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rachalixie · 6 months

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can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar.

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face.

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways.

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then.

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later.

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face.

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you.

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span.

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it.

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar.

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention.

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in.

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat.

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it.

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable.

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return.

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work.

—

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door.

god, is everything about this man endearing?

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through.

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console.

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile.

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time.

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair.

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt.

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him.

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here?

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing.

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little.

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide.

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that.

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground.

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed.

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night.

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years.

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it.

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it.

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him.

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again.

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand.

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home.

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce.

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other.

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck.

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have.

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan.

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?”

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch.

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?”

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over.

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind.

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times.

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one.

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer.

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday.

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible.

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him.

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at.

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature.

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you.

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior.

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues.

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting.

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #skz fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader

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starcrossed-lov3rz · 4 months

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The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 1

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions.

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.”

Silence.

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention.

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin.

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out.

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair.

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.”

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them.

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.”

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-”

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly.

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home.

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest.

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks.

“How long have we been married?”

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her.

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years.

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his.

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x rhaenyra x reader #married life #isekai #game of thrones #reader insert #fem reader #hotd daemon #hotd rhaenyra #hotd fic

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tlou-reid · 8 months

Text

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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highdefhoetry · 7 months

Text

in the library.

cw: nsfw!! female reader, public sex in library (discreet), penetration (vaginal fingering), handjob, blowjob

summary: you’re desperate to stay quiet. he’s determined to make you scream.

There are only a handful of people in the library when you run into Zayne. You cross paths in the last aisle, where the “adult” novels could be found. You were trying to take a Nora Roberts book from the shelf when your hand brushed against something cold yet familiar. When you looked up, your eyes met those of your classmate. Well, former, back when you two were in the same gen ed course. He stood calmly on the other side of the shelf with a piercing gaze that sent chills down your back.

“(Y/N),” he greets you with a slight nod of his head.

“Dr. Zayne,” you awkwardly return his greeting, but when you look back to the empty space on the shelf, you find he’s already gone. He appears at your side in a heartbeat, his hazel eyes focused on the book you’re holding.

“I’m not a doctor yet,” he corrects you.

“Haven’t you skipped a bunch of courses, though? You’re pretty much set to be one by the end of the year.”

“Unlikely. I still have a ways to go.”

Suddenly you become hyper aware of how close he’s standing. His shoulder brushes against yours as he takes the book from your hand in one smooth motion. You watch as his elegant fingers sift through the worn down pages, gently tugging each one at the corners.

“For Now, Forever,” he reads the title. “An excellent choice.”

“You’ve read Nora Roberts?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you only read boring medical texts.”

“That’s mostly true. But even I need breaks from my studies.”

“Breaks to read smutty novels?”

Silence. It seems you’ve caught him off guard. He clears his throat, and you notice his ears reddening a little.

“I was only curious about this one because it involved characters in the medical field,” he gives you a weak excuse. “I’m not a connoisseur of erotica, unlike some people.”

“Hey! Don’t say it like that. You make me sound like some kind of pervert.”

He chuckles softly at your expense.

“If I’m not mistaken, this novel in particular has a number of… graphic scenes,” he comments, his eyes drifting to your face in the process.

“I mean, yeah… all of her books are like that,” you say, trying to sound casual despite your heated cheeks. It was embarrassing having him comment on things like this so candidly. And by the way he was smirking, you could tell he was doing it on purpose.

“You must have enjoyed these lewd scenes, too. Or else you wouldn’t have read it.”

A sudden streak of mischief takes over. You take a small step forward, closing the gap between you. His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but he remains silent.

“Speaking of that…” you tease. “Do you remember the part where they’re in the library? I think it went a little something like this…”

You place your hands on his chest, running them over his iron-pressed shirt to feel the muscles underneath. The hem is tucked into the waistband of his pants; you tug on it ever so slightly until it comes undone, allowing you access to his bare skin. He doesn’t stop you when you sneak your hands under his shirt, nor does he protest when you run your palms on his stomach. You hear his breath hitch slightly when you wander a little too low; as soon your eyes drift down and fall on the tent poking through his fitted pants, he suddenly grabs your hand and holds it firmly.

You look up again, locking eyes with the doctor in training, whose stony expression still hasn’t cracked. Although, he is looking a bit more strained…

“Zayne…?”

He pauses for a moment. Then, you see the corners of his lips curl up in a tiny smirk.

“...I remember it going a little differently.”

His steely eyes meet yours once again. You sense something deep inside them, struggling to break free, yet his demeanor remains as cool and controlled as ever. How many times have you wanted to break through that cold facade of his and curl up with the warmth of his heart? He hid it so well, but even the strongest armor had cracks.

While you’re lost in thought, something flutters against your thigh, snaking up the hem of your skirt. The feeling makes your skin quiver, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle a small cry. Meanwhile, his fingers reach the lace edges of your panties and tug them down until they’re right above your knees. The sudden rush of cool air makes you shiver.

“Zayne…” you whisper, trying to keep quiet so you don’t garner the attention of the other visitors, or worse, the librarians themselves. You look around anxiously to make sure no one is nearby while his hands grope your thighs and hips. He takes his time feeling you up before finally caressing his cold hand on your outer lips. It makes you jump, but soon you feel a warmth spread through your body, fueled by his gentle circling of your clit.

“Shhh,” he leans forward to whisper in your ear, right before sliding a finger inside you.

You let out a tiny gasp, forcing back a moan as he curls his finger upwards, seeking out the elusive spot he knows will make you cum hard. He finds it and begins to stroke the spongy walls, slowly at first, then with a bit more force. All while pumping those beautiful fingers of his in and out, in and out, in a steady rhythmic fashion. It’s taking everything in you not to scream and moan. He chuckles as he watches your face twist in pleasure and your strained efforts to silence yourself.

“Mmm… mmph!!”

“Calm down,” he croons. “You need to stay quiet in the library.”

It’s the same thing the male lead had said to the heroine of the story. You remember it vividly, for you had pictured yourself in this exact scenario, with this exact same man. Zayne’s hands are quick and skilled; his thumb continues massaging your clit, putting just enough pressure on it to warm you up without bringing you over the edge. It’s driving you mad, how gentle yet forceful he is. He stares down at you from his massive height, lips slightly curved upwards in an amused smile while you fight to remain silent as his hands and fingers roam your body. Your heart has begun to pound so intensely you wonder if he can actually hear it.

You’re close. He can sense it, too. He chuckles again when you grab onto his arms, as if bracing yourself for impact. You squeeze your eyes shut as wave after wave of electrifying pleasures surge through your body. It’s taking everything in you not to scream. You force back every moan, only letting little gasps and groans escape when he hits you in just the right place. And from the grin on his face, you can tell it amuses him to no end.

A few moments later, you finally cum. You bite your lip, feel your eyes roll in the back of your head, let out fluttered sighs as you squirt all over his hand. He caresses your waist and hips, relishes the way you twitch and shudder under his hands. The orgasm made you extra sensitive, so every touch feels like cold fire. You open your eyes to meet his, letting your lips part as you take in large gulps of air while trying to regain your composure. His soft gaze makes your heart dance. He doesn’t say anything, opting instead to admire the sight of your flushed skin and relieved expression.

But his own expression soon turns to one of restraint. His gaze falters when he feels your hand grope the tent in his pants. You rub the tip with an increasing amount of pressure and smile when you hear stifled grunts emerge from his throat. His brows furrow slightly in determination, as if he is focusing all his attention on retaining his composure. But you see the mask slip when you unzip his pants and let loose his stiff member.

Still covered by black boxers, you sneak your hands into the slit in the middle and take hold of his shaft. He grunts softly, almost losing it when you begin caressing the tip and teasing the length of his cock. You start off slow and take your time fondling him, noting what makes him sigh and gasp and when his breath becomes more erratic, more desperate.

You pause briefly to look around, once again making sure that no one is looking, before falling to your knees.

Before he can protest, you take his cock in your mouth and run your tongue along his shaft, stopping only to kiss and lick his tip before going on. The muffled sounds he’s making are delightful. His grunts start off quiet, but the longer you suck him off, the louder they grow. He grabs fistfuls of your hair, firmly but gently so as not to hurt you, and pulls you close until his cock is hitting the back of your throat. You suppress the urge to gag; it won’t be much longer until he cums.

After a few deep thrusts and more teasing from your mouth and tongue, he erupts his load into you, gasping quietly while still holding onto your locks. You taste his cum and swallow it all, savoring the warmth he’s given you. You slowly guide his cock out of your mouth and stand back up, smiling at him while his heavy breathing subsides. He zips up his pants with a relieved sigh, as if he just released a lifetime’s worth of stress.

“Well?” you whisper. “How did it end, again…?”

Zayne looks down at you with eyes full of affection, taking your chin in hand and gently pulling your face up.

“I believe it went like this.”

He kisses you softly, and his icy exterior melts in your hands.

#love and deepspace smut #lnd zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #minors dni #love and deepspace

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pucksandpower · 8 months

Text

Pretty Woman Moment

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: you have your very own Pretty Woman moment in the glittering shops of Monaco

You take a deep breath of the fresh Monaco air as you walk hand-in-hand with Max down the cobbled streets. He gives your hand a little squeeze and smiles at you. Even after all this time, his smile still makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re both dressed casually — just simple jeans and t-shirts, with caps pulled low over your faces. It’s one of the things you love most about your life here. The two of you can blend in and just be yourselves, without the glare of fame and fortune.

As you pass a small cafe, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts out. Your mouth waters.

“I’m dying for an iced coffee,” you say longingly. “Do you mind if we stop for a quick drink?”

Max chuckles. “Of course, schatje. You stay here and keep browsing. I’ll go grab us something.”

He gives you a peck on the cheek before heading into the cafe. You watch him go, your eyes drifting down to admire his cute butt in those jeans. Yup, you’ve definitely still got it bad for him.

Humming to yourself, you continue down the street, peering in shop windows at the latest fashions.

Up ahead you spot the iconic red awnings of Cartier. On a whim, you decide to browse the opulent jewelry shop.

As soon as you enter the store, you can feel the receptionist’s eyes sweep over you, no doubt taking in your casual outfit. Her gaze lingers on your much-loved sneakers. You pretend not to notice as you begin looking at a display of gem-encrusted watches.

Moments later, a saleswoman approaches you. “May I help you find something?” The saleswoman asks in a frosty tone.

You give her a polite smile. “Just looking, thanks.”

The woman’s eyes flick to your sneakers again, and her lips press together in disapproval. Still, she gives a curt nod and stands stiffly nearby like she is waiting for you to leave.

You feel a flare of annoyance at her judgmental attitude, but brush it off. You don’t have anything to prove to her. You know who you are, sneakers and all.

As you admire a display of delicate tennis bracelets, you feel the saleswoman’s eyes on you. She hovers over your shoulder, as if worried you might steal something. You bite back an amused laugh. If only she knew the size of your jewelry collection back home. Max loves spoiling you with extravagant gifts just because.

You wander towards the case of Panthère de Cartier rings, their tiny emerald eyes glinting up at you. As you lean down to admire them, the saleswoman swoops in.

“I’m afraid those particular pieces are off limits to handle without intent to purchase,” she says crisply.

You straighten up slowly. “Of course. My apologies.”

You turn away, irritation prickling. The other salespeople eye you suspiciously too now. Pretentious snobs, you think.

Just then, the glint of your own diamond tennis bracelet catches your eye — the one Max gave you for your anniversary last year. It’s slipped partially down your wrist unnoticed. You nudge it back into place just as the first saleswoman appears at your elbow.

“Excuse me, but I believe you’re attempting to steal that bracelet,” she hisses.

You gape at her. “What? This is mine, I’ve been wearing it since I came in.”

“Likely story,” she snaps. “Jacques, could you please call security?”

A bulky guard steps forward, eyeing you distrustfully. “Let’s just take a look at that bracelet, miss.”

Mortified anger rises in you. “Absolutely not, I don’t need to prove anything to you,” you say heatedly.

The saleswoman’s expression hardens. “If you make a scene, we’ll be forced to restrain you until the police get here.”

Just then, the door opens and Max strides in, caramel-drizzled iced coffee in hand. His eyes instantly take in the situation. He steps forward, eyes blazing.

“What the hell is going on here?” He demands, voice dangerous. You’ve never seen his racing temper directed at you, though you know it lurks beneath his calm demeanor.

“It’s fine, Max, just a misunderstanding-” you start gently.

He silences you with a look, then turns his glare on the cringing salespeople. When he speaks again, his voice is lethally quiet.

“This is my wife, Y/N, and I suggest you treat her with the utmost respect. She is the most important person in my world.” Though his words are soft, they crack sharply like a whip. “Now apologize. Immediately.”

The saleswoman who accused you blanches paper-white. “M-Mr. Verstappen, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize-”

Max holds up a hand, cutting off her stammering. His sharp features are carved from stone. “Save it. Your behavior was unacceptable. We’ll be taking our business elsewhere and you can be assured that I will be speaking to corporate.”

But the security guard blocks your path. “Just a moment. I still need to verify this bracelet did not come from our store.” He reaches out towards your wrist.

Quick as a flash, Max grabs the man’s arm, halting him. “Don’t touch her,” Max says in a low, dangerous voice. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the ice in his tone.

The security guard tries to yank his arm away, but Max holds firm. “I suggest you let us leave right now, before I call my lawyer.”

He drops the offending arm as the security guard takes several steps back, then takes your hand gently. “Come, schatje. Let’s get you home.”

Once outside, Max halts and turns you gently to face him. His handsome face is creased with concern.

“Are you okay?” He asks, brushing a lock of hair tenderly from your face. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

You lean into his touch, letting it soothe away the sting. “I’m okay now that you’re here. But Max … the way she looked at me, treated me like I was garbage just because of what I was wearing …” You trail off, throat tightening.

Max’s jaw tightens, a storm brewing in his beautiful eyes again. “She had no right to talk down to you that way. No one has the right to make assumptions and treat you like anything less than the amazing woman I know you are.”

Despite everything, you feel yourself smile slightly. No one can make you feel better like Max can but furious tremors in his fingers tell you his wrath still simmers below the surface. You squeeze his hand. “I’m okay, really. Don’t let them ruin our day.”

His expression softens as he looks down at you. “Of course. I just can’t stand to see anyone disrespecting you.” He smiles ruefully. “I may have overreacted.”

You laugh. “Just a bit. But it was gallant of you to come to my defense.” You lean up on tiptoes to kiss him sweetly.

Max wraps you in his arms. “I’ll always protect you, Y/N. I love you.”

“And I love you.” You take his hand again. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I saw the most adorable baby swans in the harbor earlier.”

The tension eases from Max’s shoulders as you stroll together along the glittering marina. You chat and laugh, the unpleasant scene at the jewelry store already forgotten. Because nothing can touch the happiness you’ve found here, in the sun-drenched streets of Monaco, hand-in-hand with the love of your life.

***

The next evening, you and Max stride arm in arm into Cartier, looking every inch the glamorous millionaire couple that you are. You’re dressed in a slinky black gown with diamond earrings while Max cuts a sharp figure in an Armani tuxedo. The salespeople gape as you saunter in, not recognizing you as the girl from yesterday.

You head straight for the saleswoman who accused you of stealing. “Remember me?” You ask breezily.

She flushes, stammering apologies. You silence her with one manicured finger.

“Let’s start fresh, shall we?” You extend a hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“S-Suzanne,” she manages.

“Suzanne, my husband Max and I are looking to make a significant purchase tonight.” You gesture around the lavish store. “You have some beautiful pieces. Why don’t you show us some options?”

“Of course, right this way.” Suzanne leads you to a private viewing room. Hands shaking, she brings out diamond necklaces, tennis bracelets, rings — tens of millions of dollars in jewels laid across velvet.

You and Max pretend to consider each item seriously, before waving it away. “Oh no, that won’t do … this one’s not quite right either …” With each rejection, Suzanne’s smile grows tighter.

Finally you turn to her, feigning disappointment. “Well Suzanne, I’m afraid nothing here has caught my eye. It all seems a bit … subpar.”

She gapes. “S-subpar?”

“Mmhm. I think we’ll try Bulgari next. Their quality is much more superior.” You pause, tapping a finger against your chin thoughtfully.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I realize this just isn’t going to work out between us.” You gesture around the store. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m sure this is a fine jewelry store for some people with lower standards, but for me ...” You trail off, shaking your head sadly.

Suzanne is white-faced, swallowing hard. “Please, give us another chance. I’m certain we can find something to your satisfaction.”

You pretend to consider it. “Well … I suppose we could take another look.”

For the next hour, Suzanne desperately shows you their most elite pieces, diamond necklaces worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. You and Max have a gleeful time trying them on, admiring yourselves, but ultimately waving each one away.

Finally, after rejecting a spectacular €500,000 art deco diamond choker, you say airily, “You know what, Suzanne? I just don’t think Cartier is right for me. It’s been … educational, but I believe Max and I will be going now.”

As you saunter out, Suzanne calls desperately, “Please come again soon!”

You pause, looking back with a dazzling smile. “I would … but you made a big mistake. Big. Huge.”

And linking your arm through Max’s, you sashay into the balmy Monaco night, leaving the frantic saleswoman behind.

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insomniakisses · 3 months

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Misdirected Anger

Character: Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen (HOTD)

Reader type: Gender neutral

Warnings/Notes: mentions of B&C, mentions of blood and minor bodily harm, reader is married to Rhaenyra as is daemon, but no relationship to daemon stated, mentions of past trauma and Viserys being an awful father. Cannon Targcest, reader involved Incest, Targaryen reader. Hurt & Comfort

You couldn’t believe it. Every time you thought about it you felt sick. When your sister and wife, Queen Rhaenyra, had given the order for Aemond’s death you promised that to her along with her council. Daemon had presented you with his plan that he would sneak someone in to kill Aemond, promising it would only be Aemond who died.

You had agreed, too easily now you thought about it, helping him sneak out and sale off to kings landing while you distracted your wife. Usually you wouldn’t trust Daemon, he was known for his temper and violence but he was your wife’s husband and your uncle you had assumed you could.

You couldn’t. The news the following council meeting made you feel sick you stared at him, his smirking smug little face as your queen denied and denied the accusation. Having known the pain of loosing one’s child she would never have given such an order. Neither would you.

They excuse themselves to talk, the council departs all but you and Rhaenys. She watches you, the watery eyes and the far away expression and she scoffs.

“You thought you could trust him?” Its a statement that leaves her lips, as she knows the answer already.

Her expression, however, softens when she notices the blood dripping from your hands. Having dug your nails in to your palms and how you look like you might pass out. She moves to stand, guiding you up and to your chambers.

On the way a pissed off Daemon storms past pushing you aside in his temper. You call after him to no avail letting out a shaky breath when a guard informs you of the Queen summoning you. With a not so reassuring squeeze to the arm Rhaenys leaves you.

You follow the guard, the feeling of nausea rising and tears freely flowing. You feel like a child again, about to be berated for your actions by the ruler of the realm made to feel small and insignificant in the eyes of the crown.

You barely step a foot inside before shes yelling, her anger towards Daemon, only fuelled by their argument, all being directed at you. You can hardly think strait your head spins and your hearing comes and goes the noise of the room drowning out to focus on your erratic heart beat before an insult is thrown your way again.

Small. You feel it, like your back in kings landing and its your father standing in front of you. Her voice being replaced in your mind with his, he never did like you. A fact everyone well knows, Rhaenyra herself had been the one you ALWAYS ran to. At least until Daemon became more important. Yet here she was the same ice look in her eyes. The same insults.

“Useless.” “Idiotic.” “Good for nothing.” “Waste of a space.” “Disappointed.” “I hate yo-“

She stops herself on the last one, mouth hanging open as she gasps, having turned round to see your state. Knees to your chest head resting on them as you dig your nails into your skin breathing heavy.

“Baby!” She tells falling to her knees in front of you, but your already gone, shut down and deep into your own head.

Whimpers and babbles of apologies escaping you as you rock yourself, having learnt to sooth yourself from a young age, it breaks her heart knowing she caused you such great pain and she feels guilt at the jumbled words that leave your mouth next.

“Dae-“ *gasp* “mo-n” *gasp* “Aemond” *whimper* “pro-omised” *gasp* “kill” *breathing speeds up*

She nods scooping you into her arms, and onto her lap, her hand rubbing your back as she sways you like you would a small child. Three kisses are placed to your head as her other hands plays with your hair. Her soft voice whispering “breathe baby” and “I’ve got you little dragon”

Your eyes close as you grasp at her dress, head nuzzling against her neck as your breathing calms. Hiccups escaping now and then as silent tears fall against her neck.

She stands carrying you to bed laying you down softly you watch with wet eyes and droopy eyelids as she undresses you to your underclothes in an attempt to cool your warm skin down, undressing herself before climbing in bed with you.

She lays behind you, humming when you turn to lay on her chest, her hands doing back to playing with your hair and rubbing your back. She kisses your head again, her signature three kisses, her hand tracing “I Love You” on your back and you let your eyes clothes as she whispers apologies and praises. Promising to never treat you like that again.

You just hope this is still the case when Daemon returns.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagines #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra imagines #rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #rhaenyra x reader #hotd rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #queen rhaenyra targareyn #queen rhaenyra

767 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 9 months

Text

nobody's home (m)

Pairing: neighbor male nanny!seungcheol x afab maid!reader Genre: smut, fluff towards the end Word count: 3.8k tags: working class au, mentions kids, big dick!Seungcheol, reader wears skirt and thong and panty hose, dom!seungcheol, brat!reader, rough sex, rough hair pulling and head movement, spitting and swallowing, heavy degradation kink, window sex, overstimulation, name calling (brat, slut, mr. choi), choking unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pies Summary: Seungcheol and you have never crossed paths for long, but boy have you imagined it. Too preoccupied with your jobs working for some of the richest families in the city, you've sacrificed your grueling hours when you could've been fucked your brains out all this time. However, big risks come with big rewards when the holidays arrive. Then there's nobody home to stop you. author note: horny, horny, horny, that was the entire process writing all of this. i feel like i pulled this out one of my deepest most darkest horny moments bc why am i so into writing every part of this and thats so rare?? i enjoyed this alot, please enjoy guys and happy new year! its almost 2024 thats insane!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

You haven’t worked for this family all that long. Only long enough to realize the cute male nanny living in the house next door.

You've caught glimpses of him a handful of times on the lawn, overseeing the kids as they bask in the fresh air. His eyes sparkle like stars that lit the night sky and his smile outshines the opulence of this entire block of one-percenters. Witnessing that radiant smile aimed in your direction brightens your day each time. Without fail, you exchange polite greetings, accompanied by smiles and pleasant small talk, forming a delightful routine in your interactions.

As the housekeeper, you’ve had plenty of encounters while getting groceries, lawn or backyard parties, and windows. Lots of windows. You’d peer through when you’re cleaning, see him glance back at you, maybe sending you a wave as he’s mid-feeding the kid veggie tots. Your interactions with him were typically very brief and fleeting.

Now, there were no excuses. The holiday season is around the corner, and families in the neighborhood will soon be heading to the Alps, tropical destinations, or somewhere along those lines. That meant you’d be all alone in their mansion, much like someone else in the neighborhood.

You learn about it by seeing him at the grocery store. Trying not to get distracted by the loose-fitting dress shirt tucked in the waist of his trousers, you notice the little one he cares for rolls through the aisles full of toddler swagger in the shopping cart. You would gush at their delightful giggles if you didn’t find their caretaker so mind-numbingly distracting.

With his broad shoulders, sturdy arms, and consistently solid build, you too would trust him with something so delicate and needy of attention. It was such a natural choice. However, the nearest option you had was, well, yourself.

He mentions that his employers preferred to keep their vacation exclusive to family, providing him with paid time off to use as he pleased. In turn, you mention being offered the same form of compensation, and am eternally grateful for such leniency. His expression sparks in piqued interest, briefly glancing at you before storing the hot chocolate package away in the cart.

“Does that mean you’ll be away for the holidays?”

You muse at his question, fingers taking over your basket handle as he ponders on your response. A glimmer of optimism in his eyes beams in your direction, with a dimple etched deep in his cheek as he splays a hopeful smile. To which you answer jesterly, "Well, I hadn't implied that."

He softly chuckles, nudging you at the elbow, obviously trying to banger a proper answer. “Then tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a big house all alone during the holidays?”

His compliments delight you and warmth festers in your chest, greedy for more. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

Seungcheol doesn’t have a moment to react as the child in the cart regains their energy. He shifts his gaze away momentarily and soon you escape his line of vision, seamlessly blending in amidst the bustling crowd of grocers.

Returning to the residence, you linger by the largest window, offering a perfect view of Seungcheol dining during supper. It's a familiar scene, replaying like clockwork at the same hours each time. His silhouette in the warm glow of the neighbor's dining room becomes a sight with more to be desired, and you imagine a world where the divide doesn't exist. Staring in his eyes, you picture your entanglement. The heat of your bodies weaving together like threads in a tapestry, each bonded tightly, with only the power of shears to tear you apart.

His eyes reflect the same intensity, mentally undressing you down to the skin, making you his perfect canvas. He ponders the texture of your skin, your hair, and the sound you make when he tenderizes your flesh with his teeth. He wonders how full you feel between his fingers, or how sweet your nectar tastes. He can only envision the favor, the sensation, the warmth; holding the fantasy close to him like a secret taken to the grave.

That day would come soon enough.

Anticipating each passing hour of every day, you are elated by the promise of bidding farewell to your employers at the airport. You assure them of returning to a pristine home, meticulously cleaned from every nook and cranny. A grin, so expansive it borders on pain, graces your face, and there's a noticeable spring in your step as they fade into the depths behind the security checkpoints.

Without a moment's hesitation, you rush home, eager to connect with a kindred spirit just a few cobblestones away from your work residence. Judging by the expression in his eyes, it's clear he has fulfilled his responsibilities and bid farewell to his employers as well, eagerly awaiting your arrival. He grins at you, pleased to see you approach him.

“I see it that they made it to their flight safe?”

You hum in confirmation. “You would be seeing correctly. How did your family make it?”

"Quite smoothly," he answers nonchalantly, the dimple on his cheek sinking into a subtle but contented expression.

A palpable wave of relief releases from the depths of your lungs, and a chuckle escapes as you observe Seungcheol displaying a similar reaction. Even in the subzero temperatures, you sensed the fire of his gaze, unraveling your logical resolve and liquefying you into a puddle of your own arousal. In the depth of your gaze, he discerns your hopeful anticipation, one that matches his. “So, what are the plans for the rest of their absence?”

The corner of your lips can’t help the way lifts, smiling slyly back at him. “I’m sure you have some ideas.”

You thank the heavens every day they never reinstalled those security cameras. Utilize their vulnerability, you invite the neighbor’s nanny into their home, and the automatic door locks behind him. No use in holding back, he claims the lips swiftly, tasting need and rebellion on your tongue in a rough liplock.

His lips full and plush, they part to speak, but not with words. His tongue aligns with yours, only to tangle in incoherent mumbles that escape in between, yet communicate with you in perfect fluency. Much like the intimate gazes you share from the windows multiple times a day, the fervent kiss unfolding spoke more than the audible language ever could.

His hands work around your body, shoving off your coat and cardigan, abandoning them on the hardwood to slip his fingers beneath your shirt. A shallow breath leaves your lips and you rush him against you, planting yourselves against their pristinely white wall. The texture of the plaster digs into your backside, abrasive against your flesh and Seungcheol locks you in place by holding your thigh against his side.

“You don’t know how fucking bad I wanted to do this to you,” he growls into your kiss.

You let out a sultry chuckle, fiddling with his earlobe between the pads of your fingers. “You can say it out loud. Nobody’s home.”

He scoffs. “I said, I wanted to—“ he slams his hips against you, his cock bursting at the seams against your torso, “—fuck the living shit—“ he does so again, digging your sobbing clothed cunt with his solid thigh, “—out of this stupid, pretty cunt. That loud enough for you?”

You moan through your firm pressed lips, grinding against his steel hard thighs. “Just the perfect amount.”

In admiration, your hands roam over his body, and shamelessly rips off his dress shirt, hearing the buttons skip against the cool tile. He grunts at the sensation of the frigid air enveloping his broad stature as it pebbles goosebumps on his upper arms. Returning your savage gesture, his hand fingers through your hair and dragging it back to pin your head on the wall behind you, fisting handfuls of your locks. “That wasn’t very nice of you. Could’ve asked for permission at least first,” he snarls, baring his front teeth.

“Can’t help it,” you grin, “you just look so good without it on. I bet you look without anything on.”

His chest presses flat against your body without even space to breathe and his unyielding gaze bore into you. He aligns his conceited grin against your lips to smash it brusquely—as if thanking you—pulling at your bottom lip between his perfect teeth. “I’m sure it’s all you think about when you see me.”

Quickly, he maneuvers you; twisting your heel and guiding with a hand on your waist, he forces you against the unyielding surface of the wall and trails that same hand over your chilled spine.

You softly gasp at his touch, feeling the flood of your clenched walls seep through your underwear and layering your inner thighs. His chilling, velvet voice beckons, coating the inside of your ears. “But I’ve dealt with brats, you know that. Let me show exactly what happens when you test the limits of my discipline.”

Seungcheol lifts the flap of your skirt, barring the shape of your cheeks protected under a layer of pantyhose and caressing its plush cushion. Then came the flat palm of his hand coming against you at full force. You jolt upon contact, clinging to the foundation of this house to recover, yet mewl at the arousal erupting inside you. A sound emerges from the depths of your throat, vaguely sounding of his name as well as plead.

“You like that, don’t you? A naughty little brat you are,” he chuckles sinisterly.

You push your back against his hips, finding the mold of his cock readily and fitting between the rounds of your ass. His soft groan follows, his erection rubbing against the pantyhose. “God, you really like that.”

“I want it,” you whine impatiently, backing your hips on him, and crushing his length, “give it to me.”

“What kind of authority figure would I be if I gave into one of my brat’s demands?” He strikes your cheek again, stinging lingering dully as your flesh had barely recovered from the last hit, and drool leaking out of the corner of your lips. “Not a very good one,” he answers.

“Please, Seungcheol...”

He does do again, if not harder, and each strike collides with both cheeks. “You’ll be referring to me as Mr. Choi now, brat.”

You never knew his surname, but upon discovery, you notice how smooth it rolls off the tongue. How delicious it sounds out of your swollen lips.

“Mr. Choi…” You breathe out, your cunt vibrating at the notion of his power.

He hums pleased, rewarding the back of your neck with a gentle peck. “Good job. What is it you want?”

“Please, Me Choi, I want your cock inside me…”

He clicks his tongue. “Do you, now?” He chides, “Are you going to behave from now on?”

You nod gingerly. “Yes, just give it to me, please…all of it…”

“Mmh, since you’re being so polite. I guess positive reinforcement is in order.” Seungcheol’s hand caresses your hips, reaching for the curves of your ass in confident determination. The soft caress of his rich voice proceeds, “Let’s just get these out of the way.”

He ruthlessly tears the sheer material of your pantyhose, exposing your skin and the red lacy thong that hardly holds you up. You erupt in a startled gasp, welcoming the cool embrace of the air ventilation on your blistered skin. His voice drops to a lower octave and his groaning dissolves, melding into a soft sigh. “What a pretty little holiday gift for me. Only took me a moment to realize I have to unwrap it.”

“I thought of you when I decided the color,” you admit in feigned innocence, “you seem to like the holiday colors.”

“I do. Darling of you for noticing,” he praises with a hint of tease, “and my, does it suit you. Maybe there is hope for a brat like you.”

You hear the draw of his zipper, following the heavy drop of fabric to the ground. Slightly turning your head, you see he kicks the clothes aside and grins upon inspection of his full-length lining up between your legs. Your knees began to wobble, parting your feet for a more stable stance, and you swoon with your head against the wall. “You look so big…”

The head of his cock rubs against the lace, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small mess on your already ruined panties. You hear a smile in his scoff and feel the snap of your underwear before his tip breaches your molten warmth. He whispers, “Wait until you feel how big it is pushing in and out of that pretty wet cunt of yours…”

“Mmh, Mr. Choi…” Your breath halts as his girth parts your entrance, stretching your walls until it is Seungcheol and your lubricating arousal. He seethes in relief, letting your welcoming embrace around him soothe his intensifying erection and he bucks his hips, having you adjust to his size.

You rest your forehead on the wall, feeling him bury himself inside you. “Shit…yes, Mr Choi…”

“Such bratty pussy.” He spanks both cheeks once more, watching the recoil of your flesh. “My perfect bratty little pussy…bet you’re so used to misbehaving. It won’t be like that around me.”

He took one deep, languid thrust, automatically groaning, “Fuck,” then released his hips.

You immerse in his plunder of your voice, letting it ache in need as you repeat his name. Meanwhile, your internal temperature rises with the collision of his lap and your ass growing harsh and unforgiving. Pinning your wrist together single-handedly, he lets his other grip reclaim your hair, dragging your body to him for his own use. “You feel so fucking good around me.”

He tenses his torso to take sharper strikes, pulsing deeper and quicker. Your hand slides on the solid surface in front of you, pushing yourself against him as you take every inch. Your jaw drops low, echoing a hollow whine, devoid of incoherent thoughts and instinctive response.

Seungcheol lets go of your wrists and instead sandwiches them between your back and his chest. He finds the front panels of your shirt and tears it apart similarly you did with his, echoing that familiar sound of buttons being abandoned on the ground.

“Because you deserve the same thing to happen to you,” he softly mutters, only to cup your cladded breast hungrily, squeezing your flesh to the point it spills out of the material as his teeth kiss your neck, “and because I couldn’t stop looking at these when you’re walking around that see-through blouse by that window we share.”

Thinking about the fact that you share something made his intention all the more intimate, and you cling to his body like saran wrap due to the simple fact. You melt as he marks your body with bites, the stinging resonating on your goosebumped skin. “I wear that because of you,” you manage to squeak, “only because you wear that t-shirt that clings to your body during the summer. How it got damp from sweat fixing that broken bookcase. God, is it satisfying to rip your shirt off.”

“That window was always the culprit, hmm?”

He pries you from where you stand and drags you to the referred structure with you giggling after him. There he bends you over the dining table placed strategically in front of it, while your ass points towards the glass screen. His spanks come flying, tenderizing the already raw and blistered skin, “This damn window you always linger by.”

His nails dig into your kneaded flesh and he fits his cock right where it belongs, plunging back inside you as he secures your head against the table. “The way I wanted to fuck you on this exact table, spank this cute fucking ass,” he roughly tugs your head up, watching your tits bounce as he ruts in you like a damn dog, and meets your warm wide-eyed gaze, “Spit in that slutty, brat mouth.”

Your lips part without delay, death gripping the edge of the mahogany, and your tongue slings out enthusiastically. He breaks out in an amused grin before it melts back into a smolder, gripping you closer until he hocks a hot load of salvia in your mouth, forcibly closing your jaw with his hands.

“Hold it,” he commands, seeing the subtle frown on your face as you obey. He smiles sinisterly, hands on your hips as he slams you towards him, watching your head bob at the harsh rhythm. He places his palm over the column of your throat, teeth clawing your cheek. “Now swallow, you slut.”

He feels the shift in your throat as it goes down, relishing that light gasp of breath leaving your lips, “Good slut. You’re finally learning.”

His power, his strength, his cadence were inexplicably captivating and you succumb to his every whim. It only intensifies as you drink in his delectable lips, so soft in contrast to the abrasive snap of his hips, hitting in a spot so sensitive you don’t even predict it coming.

Your moan resonates through the entire first floor, palming the dinner table as you ride out your high in teary anguish as Seungcheol’s pace doesn’t seem to falter, in fact, it seems to have grown angrier. Furious.

“You fucking slut,” he spits, rubbing your overstimulated clit in the thick of your climax, squeezing the tears out of your eyes. You clutch his forearm in desperation, writhing uncontrollably. “S-Seungcheol—“

“Misbehaving again, I see.” He pulls out of you to flip you on your back. He watches at your hot cheeks expel heavy pants, sweat filming your entire torso, and eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You’re still conscious; you haven’t had enough just yet.”

Dragging by the arm, he takes you against the tempered glass, chilling your bare spine. He lifts your legs off the ground and holds them on either his side, stuffing himself back into you. Your heat drips around his cock, and he catches it in his thrusts, pressuring you to feel every inch of his cock rammed inside.

Your ass and the pads of your fingers press against the glass, smudging its once-pristine sheen. “Mr.Choi…”

He strokes your cheek, fondness in his eyes before it lowers to your throat and closes around it. Then his eyes penetrate through you, eying you in a dark allure as he robs you of breath, and catching the daze in your eyes as he ponders in thought.

“What are you thinking dirtying up the thing you took so long cleaning with your fingerprints and cum, hmm? Marking your claim on the house you've spent all day and night on looking perfect? A house far from being yours? How does it make you feel?”

“…Exhilarating,” you sigh shallowly, staring back at him with a smile. Your arms loop around his neck, finding security and embracing his vigorous nature. “Like it’s all worth the painstaking labor to make a complete mess of it.”

He groans at your answer, reconnecting your lips in what feels like an eternity, and cradles the side of your face endearingly with one hand still around your neck. His lips devour yours, swallowing your moans, jerking his hips, and savoring the velvet of your walls clench around him so deliciously.

“You were just as worth the wait. Made my job so damn hard thinking your pussy wrapped around my cock, made me fucking blank out most of my day. Not a good move for me, but–really–I blame you,” he slams you against the window before quickly returning to his rhythm pace.

“You and your perfect body—” He grinds up into you, relocating your sensitivity and you whimper, “—Your sexy fucking voice when you greet me,” and he finally, makes notice of your face, using that hand that crushed around throat now gripping your chin, “—or this beautiful face that I couldn’t wait to see contort when I push my fucking cum inside.”

Usually, you know better than to let that kind of thing happen, but after the long duration of having only distant contact, his offer becomes tempting—alluring even—that you knew someone had to physically pry you off of him until you were filled with his seed. “Well, you’re so good with kids, wanna make some of your own?”

Seungcheol beckons closer, grinning mischievously, “Should I? You want me to put my babies in you? Fill you up with cum?”

You mewl at the thought, bringing his warmth closer, “I’d be so full…taking your fat cock and all your hot cum inside me…it’d be a dream, especially knowing how good you’re taking care of us, especially me.”

“You’d want that, hmm,” driving himself into you until you're lost in your own world again—losing the grasp on reality—and he persists. “You want my cum making a mess of you and this house just so I could put some babies in this pretty cunt? Hmm? That what you want?”

You nod mindlessly, anchoring yourself to him until he finally lets up. When he does, you feel the power surges through you as if you’re fresh new battery, the electrical current being the cum he shoots up into you. You let yourself ride this high, rocking into his hips, and soon your weight takes over, deducing you to a puddle. He takes his final pumps, cooing softly at your lips as you share a kiss, then drops you back on the dining table, letting you catch your breath as the cum spills slowly out of you and stains the floor under your feet.

He stands between your legs, tracing over the texture of your thighs, and his other hand claims your waist, meeting your face with a tired but tender smile. “Hi.”

You softly chuckle, resting a palm on the back of his neck. “Hi,” you repeat back.

“So dinner?”

You playfully roll your eyes, bordering his hips with your legs. “Are you offering to cook?”

“My job requires me to, so yes,” he traces over your jaw, drawing in closer, “Wouldn’t want to feed my clients burnt Mac and cheese with their frozen Dino nuggies.”

“True,” your arms lock at the elbows around his neck, “But what else can you make besides Mac and cheese with Dino nuggies?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He answers vaguely.

You finger through his hair and notice how his perspiration has left him mouthwateringly disheveled, quietly contemplating how to stretch out this vacation time. Your solution: never leave each other’s side.

“I’ll tell you what. We can think about what to eat…after a shower. “

You retrieve his hand, tugging him in your desired direction and he follows graciously with a knowing grin. “We can do that, but we both know that shower will end up more dirty than clean.”

“Good thing I’m an expert in keeping a clean home, now it’s your turn to clean my home.”

His dimple graced his cheek, visibly interested. “My pleasure.”

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starkeysprincess · 3 months

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what would reader do if one of the women rafe used to dom was jealous that she was the only one he had an arrangement with after a while and “warned” her that he was going to get tired of her eventually just like he had with everyone else

nonnie, i like this question & i'm kissing your brain, this is v much yelling soft!dom!rafe to me

rafe had every single woman that he's been with completely obsessed with him, not only because of how good he is in bed but they liked the fact that he was successful, they were simply just using him for sex, in hopes of it becoming a more permanent situation.

you didn't think much of how your arrangement with rafe affected anyone until you stepped into the elevator one night, heading to the upper level of his apartment.

a woman enters the elevator and you give her a small smile. it's quiet between the two for a few seconds before you hear, "you're the one that's been going in and out of rafe's apartment, right?" the woman doesn't hesitate to ask.

your eyebrows furrow, clearly confused as to who the woman is but before you can even respond, the woman cuts you off, "you know, he's just going to get bored of you, right?".

"excuse me?" was all you could say. "look, just trust me when i say that rafe will get bored of you pretty quickly. i'm just trying to warn you" the woman shrugs. "you know, woman to woman" she adds.

"what makes you think that he'll get bored of me?" you scoff, "i was once in the same position as you are in, and look where that left me. i'm not the only one that he got tired of and you surely won't be the last".

as the elevator comes to a halt, stopping on rafe's level, you're quick to get off, the last thing you hear before the doors close on her is, "just take my advice and leave him before he gets bored and leaves you".

as you make your way to his apartment, the entire conversation continues to run through your head and it’s not until his door opens when you’re thoughts dissipate, at least, for a few minutes.

he grins as he greets you but he immediately notices the way you seem to be stuck in your thoughts, making his smile drop, “hey, what’s goin’ on?”. the next few words that leave your mouth end up leaving him shocked, “i think we should end this…whatever this is”.

he takes in a deep breath, “what? what are you talkin’ about?”. anxiousness is practically dripping from your words, your forefingers digging at your thumbs. you chew on your lip, avoiding eye contact with him, “whatever this arrangement is that we have, i wanna end it”.

he was spewing out questions, trying to find an answer, “end it? am I being too rough? did I hurt you last time?”. all you could was shake your head, “no…” there was a pause, “it’s better if we end things now before you get bored of me”.

his face softens, his hands immediately cupping your face, “hey, look at me”, making you look up at him. “call me selfish all you want but i don’t want things to end. I don’t know where this is coming from but I could never get bored of you”.

“i don’t wanna end things because i want you and only you” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek. rafe leans down, his face inches away from yours, his lips just merely hovering over yours before pressing against yours.

he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, “how could i ever get bored of you when you’re always on my mind. every single second of the day, all i think about is you”

tagging: @oceandriveab / @babygorewhore / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @sturnioloshacker / @starkeyisthelastname / @rafecameroninterlude / @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles / @redhead1180 / @rafeinterlude / @crvptidgf / @drudyslut / @amandabbbbb / @starkeysheart / @flvredcas / @fae-of-prey / @nemesyaaa / @emilysuperswag / @kisses4angel / @eddieslut69 / @rafesthroatbaby / @lilacheavenn / @rafescurtainbangz / @ihe4rttwd / @peterpan-neverfails / @hallecarey1 / @heartsforvin / @hyperfixationgirl / @eternalbuckley / @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account / @native2princess

taglist ⇢︎ masterlist ⇢︎ stargazing (thoughts)

#𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓈 ༉‧₊˚.#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #dom!rafe #dom!rafe cameron #dom!rafe x reader #soft!rafe cameron #soft!dom!rafe #soft!dom!rafe cameron #soft!rafe x reader #rafe cameron blurb #obx blurb #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 6 months

Text

Half A Bed

No, this is not the "only one bed" trope I'm afraid, although if anyone has any ideas for a fic w that trope, do drop you ideas in the inbox!

Summary: You and Astarion share a bed

At this point, it has become a habit for Astarion to move and leave half his bed free for you to plop yourself on whenever you enter his tent, despite all his grumbling about needing to move from his comfortable position. You then accept the invitation and happily lie down next to him, stretching your arms above your head with a relaxed sigh.

Tonight, Astarion wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck and deeply inhales your scent. He loves how you smell like him, bergamot filling his nose and he lets out a contented sigh. You exude a pleasant warmth as per usual, sharply contrasting his own cold body. He shifts a little so that you can wrap an arm around him, nestling him in a cocoon of your embrace. His cold slender finger draws random shapes on your stomach while he rests his head on your shoulder, enjoying the silence that has befallen his tent.

It wasn’t long ago when such silence would have made him uncomfortable, unsure of what to do, unsure of what you wanted to do, but you had explained yourself upon noticing his discomfort, telling him that sometimes you were just too tired to do anything but still wanted his company. He had agreed to allowing you to do that, despite his reservations about what he himself could do during that time but soon realised that you really didn’t mind what he did.

If he felt just as exhausted as you, he would simply lie next to you, cuddling in the bed. If he still had some energy to spend, he would play with your hair or trace doodles on your stomach. If he felt peckish, he would drink from your neck. The only thing he couldn’t quite bring himself to do was trance whilst you were still awake. He told himself it was because he wanted to watch over you, but in reality, it was because deep down, he still feared that one day you would leave him.

The comfortable silence washes over the both of you, save for the quiet sound of your breathing and the rustle of book pages as you read the book you had brought along with you.

You glance down to check on your vampire lover, a small smile on your face when you notice how relaxed he is and start running your hand through his hair with your free hand. He croons in response and leans into the rhythmic touch, letting the calm wash over him. Your smile only grows wider, a small chuckle slipping from your lips which causes Astarion to look up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What, may I ask, is so funny?”

“Nothing, Star. Don’t worry.” You press a kiss to his creased forehead. “Although, if you keep frowning like that, there will be permanent wrinkles on your forehead.”

“Excuse me? I am a vampire! Eternally young and beautiful, all thanks to my already handsome features from before I was turned.” He huffs, burrowing his face deeper into your shoulder.

“Mmhm, if you say so,” you hum, setting aside your book to fully focus on him. As you play with strands of his curly silver hair, he gives yet another exaggerated huff, wrapping his arms around you and lightly nips at your exposed shoulder. He gives you a pout as he has done many times before and at this point, you would think you’d be immune to it but something about the way he pouts makes your heart melt each and every time.

“Come here,” you groan, rolling over to wrap your arms around him. He grins, happily nuzzling into your shoulder and welcomes the familiar embrace, filled with warmth and love. He feels safest like this, knowing that whatever happens, he will always have you to return to, that you will always have his back just like he has yours. You’re also permanently warm, and while that was something you found annoying, Astarion thanked whoever it was that made you such. He never needed to worry about the cold, not when all he needed to do was snuggle against you whenever he started to get cold, or simply felt like it. Not once did you ever turn him down, and he doubted you would ever do so.

You bury your face into his soft curls, suppressing yet another chuckle when you hear him mutter something along the lines of being one of the most beautiful vampires in all of Faerun.

“My apologies, one of the most beautiful vampires in all of Faerun.” You snort.

“Apology accepted,” he crows, ego stroked.

You can’t help but laugh, holding him close and pressing more kisses to the top of his head.

“Simply calling you beautiful doesn’t do you justice, you know.” You ruffle his hair.

“Oh? Do go on, darling.” His eyes twinkle with amusement and happiness.

“You see,” you indulge him, “it’s really easy to call you beautiful because everyone does that, and the phrase ends up losing all meaning. Calling you…say…‘my entire world’ however, still holds a lot of meaning because nobody else calls you that.” You’re not sure why you’re being sappy tonight but you do know that you’re more than happy to give Astarion all the compliments in the world and more. He deserves at least that much.

Tears prick the edges of his eyes at your words and he quickly buries his tearing face in your shoulder, not wanting you to see how your words have affected him.

“It means everything, coming from you,” he whispers, the words struggling to leave his clogged up throat. He squeezes your hand tightly, hoping that the small gesture can convey everything he cannot say and from the look you give him, you’ve received the message.

He shifts to rest his head on your chest, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and closes his eyes, letting the feeling he can’t qute describe wash over him. He sinks into the endless abyss of warmth that is you, barely aware of your arm moving to wrap around him to pull him closer but he likes the support that it brings. Even if he were to sink, he knows — no trusts — that you will be there to catch him. Maybe he could let his guard down for just a little while, a short respite from the exhausting day and trust that when he opens his eyes again, you’ll still be there, watching over him with that soft look in your eyes. You wouldn’t leave him when he’s at his most vulnerable, would you?

Ignoring the nagging feeling in his heart, he lets himself slip into a trance, lulled by the soothing sound of your heartbeat and the warmth of your body heat. It’s times like these where he misses being alive, he wishes he could feel his own heartbeat, feel the warmth of his body but when you still curl up against him even on the chilliest of nights, he thinks to himself that perhaps he is alright the way he is, with his cold undead body and sanguine hunger. You may have already told him such when he was confronted with the choice of ascending but while you may have accepted him as who he is, he still struggles with it from time to time. Doubts continue to claw at his thoughts, no matter how many times you drive them away, but if you will continue fighting against them for him, he will not give up.

Your heart flutters when you realise he’s drifting off into a trance. He subconsciously curls tighter into your side, fingers tightly grasping whatever they can reach.

“Rest well, my star.” You murmur, lips ghosting his forehead. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off as well, holding your world in your arms.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion fic

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yourstruly-caycay · 5 months

Text

A "Loving" Husband

Yan! Poseidon x reader

Woo! My first time writing a yandere version of a character, and for the first time in forever I post something ehe.

Warning: yandere behaviour incoming

Synopsis: Poseidon never have any intention to tell Atlas, his son, about the inside of the golden door under the deep sea within the darkness. But, out of impatient and curiosity, Atlas bound to uncover the secret.

....................

The curious little boy finds himself in front of a huge golden door, a shiny one as it shines by the glimpse of the moon. He checks his surroundings once more to make sure he doesn't hear any doorstep near him as the window shows a scenery of the darkness of the sea. He sighs in relief as he's ready to find the answer that his dad has been avoiding to answer, “If this door is in this deep underground, what could dad possibly hide?”

He tries to push the door, he keeps pushing to the point his face and hand turns red. “I can open it!” He courage himself as it finally opened a little bit, small enough to fit his size.

“Ha! Dad must be proud if he knows that I can open a door this heavy.” He pat his back proudly as he goes through the door. The inside of the room is exactly as he questions it, a room full of old neat treasures and artifacts on the shelves. Out of all the treasure he saw, he spotted something bigger. A beautiful and shiny marble statue of a life-sized woman sitting on a couch with a lot of jewelry on her and white silk dress, but he notices that the clothes at the waist part are ruffled, as if that part has always been touched.

"Hmm, why does the ring seem familiar?" To get a better sight, he climbed to her thigh and sat on her. Observing the ring closer, he remembered the very same pair of rings in his dad's finger.

“But why is it on the statue? I thought mom was supposed to wear this? Perhaps I should try to give it back to her.” Carefully, his eyes focus on taking off the ring from the finger without realizing that his feets slip from the statue's silk dress as he’s hanging by the ring finger.

Unfortunately, the ring finger cracks as his head knocks onto the floor. He rubbed on his injured head, displeased seeing the gold blood on his hand from the injured head. However, the feeling of pain is replaced by panic as he closes his mouth when he sees the ring finger shatter from the statue. In a speed, he grabs the statue's ring finger and sprints all the way to his room.

…

By the next morning-

"WHY DO YOU NEED TO BE ANGRY JUST FOR A MISSING PART OF A STATUE?"

The boy jolted up from the sudden loud voice outside his room, he immediately opened the door. His heart beats fast and eyes go wide seeing his father and mother arguing in the hallway with Hades and some staff hidden in the corner or running away because they’re too scared at the sight of Poseidon.

"WHY? I'VE WARNED EVERYONE IN THIS CASTLE NOT TO ENTER THAT ROOM EXCEPT FOR ME, BUT A HIDDEN INSECT SEEMS TO HAVE BROKEN INTO THAT ROOM! I’LL FIND THE FOOL AND SHRED THEIR HANDS."

"BUT THAT DOESN'T EXCUSE YOUR SUDDEN OUTRAGE LIKE A MAD MAN."

“You insolent women-” Before Poseidon’s trident even near Amphitrite, Hades held his wrist and said in a stern voice. “Poseidon, calm down,” His eyes now turn to glare at him, but Hades still has the stoic face and staring back at him, “It’s just a statue, I don't know what's so special about that. But, if you’re still determine to punish the culprit, do it, but don’t throw the blame to the wrong person.”

And so, he put his trident down, his breath steadier and turned back to his usual stoic face, yet eyes still glare at his brother, “Just a statue? That statue is a prize possession of mine, worthy of my time to care for it.”

Hades can only sigh and shake his head in disappointment, meanwhile Amphitrite opens her mouth to say something while holding in the trembling voice with knees getting weak pressing down her fear as she stares back at him. The trident might not pierce her at all, but the sharp wind from the trident is enough to cause a scratch of gold blood to flow from her face.

"You've got to be kidding me, Poseidon, everyone already fucking know that you're protective of that precious little statue of yours. I don’t know what’s so special about it, it might be more special than me, but have you even spared a little heart for your poor wife whom you married by your own choice? Why do you marry me if you never treat me like a wife?"

"Amphitrite," Poseidon said coldly, "Since when gods married for love? Just do your own job as a queen."

Poseidon is finally out of sight as Amphitrite clenches her fist, glaring at her husband's back. "Tch, what did the statue do to make you this crazy?" she mumbles.

"Amphitrite, I do apologize for his manners." Hades pats her shoulder as he sees her in a trembling state, she gazes at him with tears spilling from her eyes.

"There's no need to apologize," she wipes her tears, "It’s his fault… no, it's my fault. How stupid and naive I am to agree to marrying him in the first place. I thought that maybe… if I become a good wife; a good mother, then maybe he can at least show an ounce of love to me like any lover does… what did I do to deserve this?"

"Don't say that, it’s his fault for being immature."

"Immature?" she snapped at him, "No no no, it’s insanity. I saw it in his eyes, the possessiveness and madness when the part of the statue is missing, all for the sake of that? I don’t know how long I will have to bear this. I can slowly go insane too for centuries living in this lifeless marriage, Hades, especially when the son he so much loved is not my own blood-" She gasped and closed her mouth, Hades got caught off guard hearing it.

"What?" He holds her shoulder, “What do you mean? Didn’t Poseidon announce to the whole Greek pantheons about you bearing his child?” Amphitrite isn’t able to hold eye contact anymore seeing the confused but angry Hades.

"Mom..."Her heart drops dead as she turns in horror to see him trembling, the familiar uncomfortable expression when he has to witness the familiar scene many times.

"Atlas!" She runs to hug him, "Did you just see the fight? Oh, I'm so sorry to have you see that."

"Mom... what do you mean?"

"W- what is it?"

"So, you're not really my mom?" His eyes are getting glossier each time passed along with his red nose. "Then, where's my real mom? Did she abandon me?" The tears fall as his crying sound is getting louder making her feeling more guilty, she hugs him tightly and pat his blonde hair.

“No no, of course not my dear… she’s umm… she-”

“I believe me and him deserve an explanation from you, Amphitrite.” He glared at Amphitrite like a predator caged its prey, unable to let her run away from the problem. After a long uncomfortable silence, she takes a breath first and stands up to glance at him.

“You both deserve an explanation… but, promise me,” she continued, “Don’t tell Poseidon, at least not now, okay?” He nods as she leads them to Atlas’ bedroom and locks the door. She sits on his bed as she massages her head, trying to find the best words to explain while the two of them wait for her.

“I already knew Atlas when he’s only a toddler, I still remember the sight of Poseidon holding him…”

…

~The night before the wedding~

To her younger self when she was still a naive princess, who was once frightened by Poseidon’s first sight. The way he always ignores her or glares at her when she makes a mistake. Hundreds of insults and mockery threw at her, driving her to avoid him even more throughout years staying in Poseidon castle as his fiance because her father thought that it’s a “good thing” for her to get familiar with him before the marriage.

When she’s ready to go to sleep, relaxing her tense muscles before tomorrow's marriage, the sudden strange calming sound arouses her suspicion. She opens the doors and follows the sound. All the way to the bottom of the sea floors. She found the source of the sound from one of the rooms and opened the door a little bit. Her eyes went wide at such a beautiful sight of the cold tyrant of the sea showing a small smile toward the unknown baby, holding the sleeping baby with such a gentle touch while humming a calm deep lullaby with the moon illuminating him heavenly like an angel.

“Impossible, how can he be so cruel, yet gentle at the same time?” She mutter

“Women, what are you doing?” She jumped at his sharp tone, once warm turned icy in a split second. She slowly opened the door, welcomed by his unamused face. She clears her throat to not feel pressured by the awkwardness, “My apologies, Poseidon, I just happened to hear your heavenly lullaby from my bedroom, I can’t help but listen to it too.”

She glanced at the sleeping baby, a smile growing wide fighting the urge not to touch the cheek, “So, who’s this baby? He’s just as beautiful as you.”

“My son.”

Silence came again, as her mouth slightly opened and eyes wide in disbelief. Unsure what to even say, “S- so, you’ve married before, then?” she frowned when he kept silent, “Where’s your previous wife?”

“Passed away.” He said in the usual cold tones, but she knew underneath that there’s a slight crack and irritation as his gaze now turned to the moonlight. Of course she passed away, or else Poseidon wouldn’t even remarry. However, deep in her heart she knew there’s a small crack discovered he’s used to love a certain woman, and now the baby is the only thing left of that woman.

“Sorry to hear that,” she continued, “What’s the name of the baby?”

“Atlas.”

…

~the night after the marriage event~

It was a cold kiss, but she received it welcomely despite his expressionless face throughout the whole wedding, but it’s okay. “It’s really okay, he’s probably not used to me yet. One day he will!” She patted herself. Emerald eyes sparkled at the whole sea regions and the Greek pantheon of deities and nymphs congratulated them, isn’t this what she’s been dreaming of? Marrying a handsome prince and living happily ever after?

During night time where everyone has a great time of feast, smiling and chattering. While Poseidon were discussing with his brothers and several gods, Amphitrite was accompanied by Aphrodite and Persephone having tea together as the both of them enjoyed their little chats while she quietly listened.

“Dear Amphitrite sweetheart, may I ask why you would want to marry Poseidon? It’s clear as day that he’s hard to be swayed by love.” Amphitrie got caught off guard with Aphrodite's question, she rested her chin on her hand thinking the perfect way to explain it.

“Well, I’m aware that a god like Poseidon is difficult to read and likes to close himself off from everyone. I’m aware too that this is a marriage for political reasons, but time itself is impossible to read too, who knows it’ll take time for him to open up to me, and maybe I can fix him.”

Aphrodite giggled while pinching her cheek playfully, “Amphitrite, I hope you can keep your words, I’ll give you the best gift if you can win his heart.”

“Haha, to be honest, I’m used to being scared of him too, but when I saw him holding his son gently in his arm it’s like seeing part of the real him open up. How can I not want to win his heart and show his other good side to me too ?”

“Son?” Persephone gasped and stood in surprise causing everyone to look at them, “What do you mean he has a son?”

Suddenly, everyone is freezed, tons of eyes now peered at Amphitrtie who was surprised too at everyone’s new discovery. “I- I thought everyone know that he has a child-”

Suddenly Poseidon touched her shoulder and leaned her closer to him as he announced to everyone, “Yes, I do have a son… with her.”

Everyone including his brothers and her families are elated by the news, congratulating the couple as they continued the feast. However, Amphitrite snapped at Poseidon who’s still avoiding her eye contact, questioning his suspicious act… head feels dizzy as she frowned at the announcement. Suddenly, Zeus wrapped his arm around Poseidon and Amphitrite in joyous, “Congratulations on having a child! So it turns out you guys already did a dirty thing before the marriage, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Congratulations, I anticipate meeting my nephew by tomorrow.” Hades shook his hand while laughing, yet despite the wonderful news, Amphitrite got left confused all alone watching the crowd in line congratulate them, leaving her deep in thought of her mind.

…

“Poseidon, what’s with all of this? I thought everyone knew about your son.” Amphitrite sat on bed facing Poseidon who’s changing his clothes to something more comfortable, once again avoiding eye contact with her. She clenches her fist when he has the nerve to ignore her question, “Not only that, but you LIED to them about him being my son in blood? What about your previous wife? How would she feel about this?”

“Don’t remind me about Y/n, Amphitrite.”

“Y/n? So that’s her name, huh? Don’t tell me that no one also knew about this Y/n.”

Another silent response made her more convinced, knowing this, she slowly moved away from him, his unreadable expression made her stomach twist. “Poseidon, why would you lie?”

What are you trying to hide?

“All you need to know is that I did all of this to keep her and Atlas safe from the gods’ eyes. If they ever discover the truth about them, I’ll gouge their eyes and shred their bodies to pieces where their mouth wouldn’t spread all over to other realm,” Amphitrite shiver at his calm tone, she felt her heart skipped a beat at his eyes finally made an eye contact, the eyes that threaten her as if a trident ready to strike her if she made a single mistake, “This include you too Amphitrite, just do your job as a queen and a mother, and I’ll turn a blind eye on you. Remember that this is a marriage that’ll benefit your family.”

…

“That’s all I know,” Amphitrite steady her breath as she lies her head down, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, “It’s true, ever since that, I wouldn’t dare to ask him about her. I- I don’t- I don’t know why my foolish self is still trying to love him despite his undying love for his previous wife.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, words unable to be formed as she cover her cry from them. “Why did I even keep pursuing?” She thought, but a sudden heaviness on her caught her off guard, uncovering her face to see Atlas hugging her.

“It’s ok, mom.” Amphitrite hug him back with more tears spilled, her heart melt knowing Atlas is still calling her mom despite the truth. However, Hades is still standing across from her as he Massages his forehead, still surprised yet angry, but at his foolish brother.

“Atlas, can you please change your clothes and go have breakfast? Your mother and I still have to discuss about… this…further through.” Atlas nods as he changes his clothes and unlocks the door to go to the dining hall, leaving Amphitrite and Hades alone in his room.

Hades approach Amphitrite to sit beside her as his hand tap on her shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that… I never thought he would do that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. As his brother, I shouldn’t have been too lenient on him, he’s just using you for his own benefit.”Amphitrite shake her head, “It’s partly my fault too for not refused it and being naive, I was too scared by my own father,” clearing her throat as she jump to different topic, “But, about her…”

“Y/n…” Hades humm, “So she’s Atlas' biological mother, why does Poseidon hide her from everyone? Out of shame?”

“Shame?”

“Poseidon is a pride god, if he loves her that much, what makes him want to hide her in the dark? Have you ever suspected her identity and background?”

Amphitrite put her hand on the chin as she recalled her moment when she was in the library, however it put a frown on her face, “I have try to search about her in the library, yet no books have had a record about her, so for now I’m assuming that she’s not a goddess from this pantheon nor a nymph.”

“Not even a nymph? How did you come up with that assumption?”

“From Atlas of course, if Y/n is a nymph from certain creatures, he will have the appearance or characteristic of that creature, however none of it are in him.”

“Fair enough.”

“How about you? Does the name Y/n sound familiar?”

“That’s… the problem, it’s new and unfamiliar within this patheon nor any other places, never for eons have I ever heard that name,” Hades massages his head and sighs as the mystery causes a headache to him., sick of his brother’s antics, he stand up, “I will ask him right now, he’s the only one who knows the truth.”

Hearing this, Amphitrite immediately stand and holds his shoulder as she shakes her head, “Don’t! If you ask him he will immediately know I told you and will slaughter me,” she continued after steadied her breath, “Please, I’m not stopping you to research about her, but don’t directly ask him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him about this too. He has been hiding this far too long, I’m disappointed at his oddly obsessive behavior-”

“Hades, your shoes.” Hearing her gasp, he looked down and froze, seeing the crimson blood seeping from under the bed all the way staining his shoes. He kneels, and looks under it to discover the missing part of the statue — the ring finger — feeling the hard rock texture, yet when he touches the bleeding part, he shivers from the soft rotten meat and bone texture.

“There’s a dead body of a mortal hidden inside a statue, how is it under his bed?” He frown, “Moreover, the ring on that finger-“

“It can’t be, that’s the same pair of rings that Poseidon has.”

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #anime #ror poseidon #snv poseidon #poseidon x reader #yandere poseidon x reader

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frogchiro · 1 year

Text

Beauty is in the eye of The Beholder

Author's note: My first kinktober entry!! Yay! We're staring with a new-ish concept so I hope you like it!

Also I apologize for the short story but I was moving into my dorm for uni today and it literally took all day so I apologize in advance :((

Warnings: slight nsfw, reader is female, general creepyness, whatever König is (human or not) isn't explicitly specified but he does some unnerving/possibly uncomfortable stuff like stalking so keep it in mind, mentioned death but nothing explicit.

The almost suffocating warmth coming from behind you is almost too much. Almost. However considering the events of the day you guess that it could be called comfortable to be cuddled and nuzzled by König, your colonel, your superior and...well, mate as he calls it. It can be sometimes tricky to hear him, for a man that size he's unnervingly silent and stealthy and his voice is low and quiet, almost whispery, not to mention that König just doesn't talk much so to hear him rasp that one word, 'mate', in your direction is a feat in itself.

While at first you were terrified of the enormous male due to all the stated reasons something about him was equally unnerving and yet alluring, like an invisible pull towards him.

At first you thought you were going crazy, everywhere you went you saw the tall, lean figure of the colonel doing nothing but just...watching you. His bloodshot eyes stared at you without ever blinking as you laid a USB stick with data you managed to hack with a tremble in your hands, your eyes not daring to meet his. Another such instance was when he almost scared you to death in an empty hallway at night when you just wanted to get a quick midnight snack from the kitchen and just barely held in a scream when you noticed König standing in a dark corner, silent and static like always, his head wasn't even moving under his cowl except for his eyes which followed you as you were scuttling and whispering shaky excuses.

You were KorTac's newest asset, a skilled hacker and yet many soldiers underestimated you; you guess you can't really blame them, you're only in your early twenties and your soft build isn't really military-esque so you suppose you kinda look a little mismatched, but that doesn't excuse what people were whispering behind your back. Not all of them, not even the majority as you were considered friendly and overall harmless, and yet these few whispered sneers cut deep into your self esteem which eventually led you into the moment you were now in.

You were laying under a thick blanket with König plastered against your back, your quiet sniffles the only thing that disturbed the otherwise quiet room. You felt bad that you were taking up König's time, after all as a colonel he surely had better things to do than lay around with his 'mate' and comfort her after some asshole insulted her although a small, selfish part of you was over the moon with happiness that the huge male behind you was cuddling and comforting you so sweetly despite not muttering anything besides the occasional nuzzle and a raspy 'pretty...soft...mine'.

Turning around, you smiled tiredly at the man beside you, his wide blue eyes never blinking as they continued to stare at you with the devotion and love someone may only give their god and yet here you are, loved and cherished by this huge man, a monster many call him, a merciless goliath that kills and destroys everything in his path like a god of war but you know better. König's huge hands ran up and down your soft sides, lightly grazing your belly and finally his large, warm hands slipped under your pajama shirt and up to your breast where he squeezed lightly, pinching at your nipple.

"König...Please I-", your pleading for...whatever were quickly cut short when the long haired male leaned in with a purr deep in his chest and nuzzled his hooked nose against your cheek, scarred lips making tiny movements as if kissing you making you giggle wetly, your former awful mood lifting, instead being replaced by a warm feeling of love and pleasure as the big male above you kept nuzzling and kissing you insistently, his hand working your sensitive breasts and slipping down to your pants to finger at your clit making you moan out.

Unbeknownst to you, König already had a plan in his mind. A plan he started to make the moment his sensitive ears caught your distressed sniffles making a concerned whine come up from his chest and the moment he saw you, he could clearly see right through you. Someone hurt you. S̷̙̭̦̜͚̑͝͝o̷̹̺͓͙̭̍̚ͅͅm̸͕̹͖̩̰͝e̸̤͖̞̯̍̂̋̚͜o̷̝̫͎̬͎̟̲̦̞̍̆̿̀̀͛̐ņ̴̧͉̭̪̣̖͆̉̅̀e̵̜̜̪̯͛͑́͘ ̶͎̣̱͎̹̻͍̥̔́͝h̵̙̰͊̈́̑͛̌̚u̷͉̝̤̾̆͌̂̓̀̏̕r̸̛̞̘͉̦͙͈͎̫̩͒͊͗̓́͝t̶̯̝͎̮͕̩̹̀̍ ̷̧̨͔̮͉͇͊͂̏͌̆̅͠y̸̡̛͕͉̖͈͗̿̅ơ̷̢͖̼͉͚͔͊̍̊̂̈ͅŭ̷̦͔͚̈́̊̚. And now he needed to know who. Ah. It was Gavin huh. That overly confident, cocksure rookie who thought that the military was rainbow and fucking sunshine, shaded glasses, cool uniforms, huge expensive cars and women to fuck left and right.

He suspected that that prick made some unwanted advances towards you and the moment you rejected him it was 180 and he was nitpicking everything you did or even how you looked. König knew he was gonna be a problem from the moment he laid eyes on him and now he though it funny to make his mate cry?

You know what they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Him being the mentioned beholder and König isn't known to be the most benevolent person...If someone doesn't appreciate your beauty of a goddess, why would they need their eyes?

#kin speaks #kin's kinktober #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x reader

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seattlesellie · 1 year

Text

don’t cross the line

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol

Parties in Jackson fucking suck.

It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.

“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”

Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.

You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.

“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.

“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”

Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.

Ellie.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.

So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-

“Hey”

You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.

“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”

She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”

Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.

“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.

Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.

Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.

“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.

“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.

One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.

“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.

You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.

“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.

“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”

Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.

You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.

“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.

It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?

“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.

“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?

“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?

“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.

“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.

Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.

“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.

Ellie scoffed.

“Yeah”

You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.

Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.

“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”

“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.

“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.

“Let me walk you” she blurted.

What?

“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.

She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?

“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.

“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.

“No” she exclaimed.

“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”

“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?

“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”

“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.

Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.

She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.

Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.

“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?

“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.

“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.

Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.

“You are”

Step

“So fucking annoying”

This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.

The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.

You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.

You turned around to face her.

Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.

You took a deep breath. She looked cold.

“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.

“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.

“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.

“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.

“Come inside”

"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.

The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.

You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.

Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.

"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.

“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.

“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.

"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”

Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.

“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.

“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.

“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.

“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.

She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.

“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.

“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.

“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.

Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.

“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.

“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.

“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.

Oh, did that sentence burn through you.

“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.

“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.

You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.

“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.

“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.

Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.

That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.

“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?

You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

She took a deep breath.

“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”

The room fell quiet.

“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.

“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.

“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.

“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.

“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.

“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.

“Please” you begged.

That’s all it took.

Almost.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.

“Please” you begged.

Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.

“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.

Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.

Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.

“You dont know…” she whispered.

You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.

“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.

Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.

Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.

She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.

“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.

She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.

“Shit” she huffed.

And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.

Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.

Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.

The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.

your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.

It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.

If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.

Her body gave up on her, too.

She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.

“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.

You wiped your tears.

“I can’t” you whispered.

“Please” she begged.

You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.

“I think about you all the time” you blurted.

She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.

“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.

What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.

You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.

Ellie swallowed deeply.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.

“I need you” you whimpered.

She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.

“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.

“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.

Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.

She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.

You cupped your breast.

Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.

“Holy shit” she wheezed.

“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.

Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.

The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.

Then, you took your shirt off.

And Cat was gone.

Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.

The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.

You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.

The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.

“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.

You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.

Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”

She didn’t need to pretend now.

“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.

You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.

“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.

“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.

“Do it” she commanded.

“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.

The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.

You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.

“Feels so good” you whined.

“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.

“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.

Ellie almost went cross eyed.

“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.

“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.

“Show me how bad - shit”

You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.

You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.

“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.

In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?

“Spread” She commanded.

You looked at her stupidity.

“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.

You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.

“Fucking shit” she grunted.

Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.

“Wider” She commanded.

You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.

“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.

“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.

“Show me that fucking pussy”

You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.

“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.

“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.

“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.

“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.

“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.

With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.

Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.

Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.

You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.

Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.

She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.

You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.

“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.

“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.

You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.

It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.

“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.

Her fucking ex best friend.

“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.

“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”

“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.

The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.

“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.

“Please fuck me, please fuck me”

“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.

“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.

“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”

Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.

When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.

This wasn’t just wrong.

This was vile.

She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.

When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;

“I’m so sorry”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #the last of us #ellie williams x you #wlw #lesbian #ellie smut #ellie williams angst

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imthebadguyyy · 4 months

Text

my boy only breaks his favourite toys

pairing : charles leclerc x reader

fandom : f1

series : the tortured poets department

warnings : angst baby angst, no comfort here.

a/n : this broke my heart a little but oh well.

oh here we go again...

The late afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the Monaco apartment, casting a golden hue over the modern, embellished living room. You and Charles stood in the kitchen, a simmering tension between you.

"You know how important this event is to me, Charles," you said, your voice steady but with an edge of frustration. "I've been looking forward to it for weeks."

Charles sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I know, and I'm sorry, but you know how demanding the F1 schedule is. I have commitments I can't get out of."

You crossed your arms, your eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, here we go again," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. "Every time I have something important, it's always the same excuse."

Charles's eyes flashed with a mixture of guilt and frustration. "It's not an excuse, Y/N. This is my job. It's what I've worked for my entire life."

"And what about what I've worked for?" you shot back, your voice rising. "This event is a big deal for me, and it feels like you don't even care."

Charles stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached out to touch your arm. "That's not fair. I do care, deeply. But I can't just drop everything because our schedules clash."

You pulled away, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "It feels like your career always comes first, Charles. I need you to be there for me too, just once."

He sighed, frustration giving way to a deep sadness in his eyes. "I want to be there for you, but I don't know how to balance everything."

You looked at him, your eyes filled with unshed tears. "Maybe it's time you figure out how, because I can't keep doing this. I need to know I'm important to you too."

Charles's face hardened slightly, a storm brewing in his eyes. "This again? You think I don't know how important you are? I can't be in two places at once, Y/N."

Your voice shook with emotion as you replied, "I'm not asking you to be perfect, Charles. I'm asking you to make an effort."

His frustration boiled over, his tone sharp. "I am making an effort! But you can't expect me to be there for every single event when I'm fighting for my career."

Your tears finally spilled over, your voice breaking. "I'm not asking for every single event. I'm asking for this one. But it seems like that's too much to ask."

Charles stared at you, his jaw clenched, before he turned away abruptly. "I can't do this right now," he muttered, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair.

"Where are you going?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"Out," he said curtly, not looking back as he headed for the door. "I need some air."

The door slammed behind him, leaving you standing alone in the quiet apartment, the echo of your argument hanging heavy in the air. You sank onto the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling a cold emptiness settle in your chest. The silence was deafening, and for the first time, you wondered if your love could withstand the strain of your clashing worlds.

rivulets descend my plastic smile...

The grand ballroom of the FIA Gala was adorned with sparkling lights and elegant decorations, a fitting venue for the prestigious event. You arrived on Charles's arm, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As a famous singer, you were set to perform a song later in the evening, and the anticipation was palpable.

Charles looked dashing in his tailored suit, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly as you made your way through the crowd, greeting fellow drivers and attendees. You couldn't help but notice the pride in his eyes as he introduced you to his colleagues, but a small part of you hoped that pride would extend to your performance later.

As the evening progressed, you were called to the stage. The crowd applauded as you took your place at the microphone, the spotlight shining brightly on you. The music started, and you poured your heart into the song, your voice resonating through the grand hall.

But as you sang, your eyes scanned the audience, searching for Charles. When you found him, your heart sank. He wasn't watching your performance. Instead, he was at the bar, engrossed in conversation with a group of people, a drink in hand. He didn't even glance in your direction.

You fought to keep your composure, finishing the song with as much passion as you could muster. The crowd erupted in applause, but the hurt gnawed at you. As you stepped off the stage, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz, Alex Albon, and Pierre Gasly approached you, their expressions a mix of admiration and concern.

"That was incredible, Y/N," Lewis said, giving you a warm hug.

"Seriously, you were amazing," Carlos added, his smile genuine.

Alex and Pierre echoed their sentiments, but there was an undercurrent of awkwardness.

"We're sorry about Charles," Pierre said quietly, glancing towards the bar. "He should have been watching you."

You forced a smile, gratitude for their support mingling with the sting of Charles's neglect. "Thank you, guys. It means a lot."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you excused yourself, needing a moment to collect your thoughts. You made your way to the bathroom, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Once inside, you locked the door behind you and leaned against the sink, the tears you'd been holding back finally spilling over.

The sound of the bustling gala outside was muted here, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your pain. You couldn't understand why Charles couldn't be there for you, why he couldn't even watch you perform for just a few minutes. The hurt and frustration were overwhelming, and you let yourself cry, the tears a cathartic release.

As you stood there, you wondered if this was something you could continue to endure. Being with someone who couldn't support you in the moments that mattered most was taking its toll. For now, though, you just needed to let the tears fall, hoping that somehow, things might get better.

but you should have seen him when he first saw me...

The apartment in Monaco was filled with the echoes of another heated argument. You were standing in the middle of the living room, tears streaming down your face, your voice rising with each word.

"Why can't you understand, Charles? I need you to be there for me! It's always about your career, your races, your commitments! This is the grammy's! the most important awards night ever! Why can't you make time for me?!" You screamed, the frustration and pain evident in every syllable.

Charles stood across from you, his face a mixture of anger and helplessness. "I do understand, Y/N, but you know how important my career is! I can't just drop everything whenever you need me!"

Your hands trembled as you wiped away the tears. "You should have seen you when you first saw me," you cried, your voice breaking. "You looked at me like I was the most important person in the world. Where did that go, Charles?"

The memory hit Charles like a punch to the gut, sending him back to the first time he saw you. It was at the Monza Grand Prix. He had just finished his race, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, when he saw you standing near the paddock. You were talking animatedly with a friend, your smile lighting up the entire area.

Charles had stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. He remembered how his teammates teased him about looking like a lovestruck puppy, but he couldn't help it. You were captivating, and he had been instantly drawn to you.

In the present, he struggled to reconcile that moment with the reality of the argument unfolding before him. "I remember," he said quietly, his voice filled with regret. "I remember how I felt when I first saw you. But things have changed, Y/N. The demands of my career... it's not easy."

"Things have changed because you let them," you shouted, the pain in your voice cutting through him. "You let your career come between us. You promised you'd be there for me, but you're never there when I need you."

Charles took a step towards you, reaching out, but you recoiled. "Don't, Charles. I'm tired of empty promises."

He dropped his hand, feeling the weight of your words. "I don't want to lose you," he said softly, his voice breaking.

"Then start showing it," you whispered, your tears flowing freely. "Because right now, I feel like I'm losing you."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken fears and regrets that had been building between you. Charles stood there, torn between his love for you and the relentless demands of his career. And you, feeling the ache of his absence even when he was right in front of you, wondered if things would ever go back to how they once were.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Charles turned and left the apartment, the door closing softly behind him. You sank to the floor, the tears coming harder now, the memories of better times a bittersweet reminder of what you had lost.

he saw forever so he smashed it up..

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the room as you and Charles lay entwined under the covers, the quiet hum of the city outside barely audible. His arms were wrapped around you, his heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your back. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments when everything felt just right.

You turned slightly to face him, your head resting on his chest. "Charles," you began softly, tracing patterns on his skin with your fingertips, "do you ever think about our future? Like, where we might be in a few years?"

Charles's hand stilled on your back, and you felt his body tense slightly. The question hung in the air, and a heavy silence settled over the room. You waited, expecting him to respond with his usual confident assurance, but instead, there was only hesitance.

"Charles?" you prompted, your voice quieter now, a hint of uncertainty creeping in.

He shifted slightly, looking away as if searching for the right words. "I... I don't know, Y/N," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed felt deafening. You tried to hide the sinking feeling in your chest, forcing a small smile as you looked up at him. "It's okay," you said, attempting to sound light-hearted. "We don't have to figure it all out right now."

But the emptiness inside you grew, a hollow ache that his words had planted there. You cuddled closer, burying your face in his chest, hoping the warmth of his embrace could fill the void. Yet, the unspoken truth lingered, a shadow over the moment of intimacy.

Charles held you tighter, as if trying to reassure both you and himself. But the hesitation in his response, the uncertainty in his eyes, left you feeling more alone than ever. You had wanted a glimpse of a shared future, a promise of what could be, but instead, you were left with doubts and questions.

As you lay there in his arms, you couldn't shake the feeling of loss, the odd emptiness that settled over you. The love you shared was real, but the future you hoped for seemed suddenly fragile, like a dream that might slip away at any moment.

ill tell you that he runs because he loves me...

The lively buzz of conversation filled the upscale restaurant as you sat with Charles and a group of fellow F1 drivers—Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz, Pierre Gasly, and Alex Albon. The evening had started well, laughter and camaraderie flowing easily around the table.

Charles had been in good spirits, joking and sharing stories, but after the main course, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. At first, you thought nothing of it, but as the minutes ticked by, the knot of anxiety in your stomach grew tighter.

Carlos glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Everything okay, Y/N?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You forced a smile, trying to appear unconcerned. "Yeah, he just went to the bathroom. He'll be back soon."

The conversation continued, but your eyes kept darting toward the hallway, hoping to see Charles returning. After what felt like an eternity, the worry and embarrassment began to creep in. You knew the other drivers were aware of the growing tension.

Lewis leaned closer, his expression kind but concerned. "Do you want to go check on him?"

You shook your head, swallowing hard. "No, it's fine. He runs because he loves me," you joked, trying to keep your voice steady. "He just needs a moment."

The table fell into an awkward silence. You could see the sympathy in their eyes, a silent acknowledgment that they understood more than they were letting on. It stung, their pity, but you held your head high, determined not to let your emotions show.

Pierre reached over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "We know he loves you, Y/N," he said softly.

Alex nodded in agreement, though his eyes mirrored the concern you felt. "Sometimes it’s just hard to see someone we care about struggle."

You nodded, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate it."

Just as you began to lose hope, Charles finally reappeared, looking slightly disheveled but smiling as if nothing had happened. He slid back into his seat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Sorry, I took so long," he said lightly. "I got caught up talking to someone."

You nodded, leaning into him, though your heart ached with the knowledge that something was off. The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the camaraderie tainted by the lingering unease.

As you all said your goodbyes and headed home, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. Charles held your hand, but the connection felt fragile, like a thread that might snap at any moment. The sympathy in the other drivers' eyes haunted you, a reminder that love alone might not be enough to bridge the growing distance between you.

he took me out my box...

The dim light of your bedroom lamp cast a soft glow over your face as you lay on your bed, your phone propped up on the pillow. Charles’s familiar features filled the screen, but there was a distance in his eyes that you couldn’t ignore. The nighttime quiet amplified the unspoken tension between you as you spoke quietly over FaceTime.

“So, how was your day?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Charles smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Busy, as usual. Lots of meetings and prep work for the next race.”

You nodded, offering a small smile in return. “I miss you. It feels like we haven’t really talked in ages.”

He glanced away for a moment, his attention seemingly captured by something offscreen. “Yeah, I miss you too,” he said absently, his focus clearly elsewhere.

The silence stretched, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. You studied his face, searching for the spark that had once been so evident. Your mind drifted back to a time when things were different, when his love had been your anchor.

It was a little over a year ago, at a time when you were at your lowest. The world seemed bleak, and you had felt utterly lost. Charles had been there, though, in a way you never expected. He spent every day by your side, offering comfort and support. He made you laugh when all you wanted to do was cry, held you close when you felt like falling apart. It was during those dark days that he had fallen for you, his love a beacon of hope that guided you through the storm.

You remembered the gentle way he would look at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world. He would bring you your favorite tea, sit with you in silence when words were too much, and remind you every day of your worth and strength. It was those moments that made you fall in love with him, his unwavering presence and the way he seemed to understand your pain.

“Do you remember when we first started dating?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Charles’s eyes flickered back to you, a hint of confusion in his expression. “Of course I do,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I was just thinking about how much you were there for me when I was going through a tough time. You spent your days looking after me, making sure I was okay. It meant the world to me.”

His face softened slightly, a small sigh escaping his lips. “Yeah, I remember. You needed someone, and I wanted to be that person for you.”

Your heart ached at his words, knowing how far things had drifted. “I needed you then, and I still need you now, Charles. I miss how close we used to be.”

He looked at you, the conflict evident in his eyes. “I’m still here, Y/N. Things are just... different now.”

The emptiness you had been trying to ignore settled heavily in your chest. “I know. It just feels like we’re growing apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Charles remained silent, his gaze dropping to the floor. The connection that had once been so strong now felt fragile and tenuous.

“I love you, Charles,” you whispered, hoping to bridge the gap between you.

He looked back up at you, his expression weary. “I love you too, Y/N. I really do.”

But as the call ended and the screen went dark, you couldn’t shake the feeling of loss that lingered. The memories of better times clashed with the present reality, leaving you with a deep sense of longing for the man who had once been your everything.

im queen, of sand castles he destroys...

The tension in the air was suffocating as you and Charles stood locked in a heated argument, words flying like arrows, each one piercing deeper than the last. His face was contorted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides, and in a moment of blind rage, he reached out and grabbed the grammy award from the shelf.

"No, Charles, don't!" you cried out, but it was too late. With a violent motion, he hurled the award to the ground, the sound of shattering glass filling the room.

You gasped, the shock of his actions leaving you momentarily speechless. Tears stung your eyes as you stared at the broken pieces of your prized possession, a symbol of your hard work and dedication. Anger surged through you, hot and fierce, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, numbing emptiness.

"You... you destroyed it," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles's chest heaved with exertion, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and regret. "I don't care," he spat out, his voice dripping with venom. "I'm sick of pretending like everything's fine when it's not. I can't stand being with you anymore."

The weight of his words crashed down on you like a tidal wave, leaving you reeling in disbelief. He had shattered more than just an award; he had shattered your trust, your love, everything you had built together.

Without a word, you turned away from him, your heart heavy with grief and betrayal. You couldn't bear to look at him any longer, couldn't bear to see the man you had once loved reduced to this. With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, dialing a number you never thought you'd have to call.

"Hello?" a voice answered on the other end.

"Mom," you choked out, tears streaming down your face. "Can you come over? I need you."

As you hung up the phone, you felt Charles's eyes boring into your back, but you refused to turn around. The damage had been done, irreparable and irreversible. And as you heard him storm out of the room, you knew that this was the end.

when I fix me, he's gonna miss me...

The stage was set, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as you stood under the bright lights, microphone in hand. Your heart raced with nervous excitement, knowing that tonight would be a turning point in your career. As the music swelled and the spotlight found you, you took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I have some exciting news to share with you all."

The audience leaned in, hanging on your every word as you made the announcement they had been waiting for. "I'm thrilled to announce that I'll be releasing a new album," you declared, a smile spreading across your face as cheers erupted from the crowd. "And not only that, but I'll be dropping the lead single tonight."

As the excitement built to a crescendo, you couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. This was your moment, your chance to take control of your narrative and reclaim your power. With a sense of purpose, you raised the microphone to your lips once more.

"The lead single is titled 'My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys'," you announced, your voice ringing out clear and strong. "And to the boy who broke all his favorite toys and my fucking heart, this is one big fuck you from me to you."

The words hung in the air, charged with emotion and defiance. There was a collective gasp from the audience, followed by a thunderous applause that seemed to shake the rafters. In that moment, you knew you had struck a chord, tapping into a universal truth that resonated with people far and wide.

As you launched into the song, pouring your heart and soul into every word, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. This was your anthem, your battle cry, and you sang it with a fierce intensity that left no doubt in anyone's mind that you were taking back control of your life.

And when the performance went viral, spreading like wildfire across social media and capturing the hearts of millions, you knew that you had made the right choice. You had turned your pain into power, your heartbreak into art, and in doing so, you had found a strength within yourself that you never knew existed.

a/n : thanks for reading! as always comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍