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from-izzy · 2 months ago

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[00:05] | nct mark lee

"You're not behind," it prompts the grip on his forearm to tighten, "but you are tired and you deserve to rest now."

pairing » nct mark lee x gn!reader (fast proofread once - lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » maximum hurt and comfort because i need someone to do this for me AND IT'S EXAM SEASON FOR MEJSDKFJHDF, mwork is a fluffy boyfriend in these angst times, mark holding you tight and telling you that everything is fine, boyfriend mark lee concerned for your wellbeing, mark letting you rest against his chest

word count, estimated reading time » 1707, ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader is stressed with academics, reader hasn't slept in a while, mark implied to be physically bigger and taller

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist🤍 'especially to you...'

HEYYYY HIIII! double update in a month which is very rare for me now 😭 and thanks for beta-ing a long time ago @sohnric !!

i def still love writing but life commitments can get heavy sometimes 🥹 and with that, this one is for everyone who is in exam prep or just having a hard time academically but also just anyone who needs comfort right now! good luck on your studies and commitments everyone! you can do this!! 🫂

with that being said, my first exam is tomorrow and i am tired-

Literally from the side, you hear the door creaking open, the click of its button free from the metal that houses it on its frame. As always, you choose to ignore it even though your heart drops slightly closer to your stomach. You don't dare to tear your eyes away from the document on your screen, choosing to look at the scorching white with your tired, slightly red eyes.

He called out for you but the only thing he's greeted with is your fingers rapidly against your keyboard. Mark is no longer surprised by your dismissive actions, sighing when it seems like the rhythm becomes faster.

Slowly, he approaches your study area, a folded finger rubbing against his eyes in an attempt to blink the tiredness away even if it's just for a little bit. When he's close enough to see what you're working on, he can't help but feel proud of your progress. The title of the document takes him back to just a few days ago when you were crying to sleep in his arms, telling him about how you have no idea and that you have hit a wall in the upcoming assignment that seems to be due so soon.

In reality, it isn't due for two more months, but it's the weighting of the assignment that has you pondering if you can really bear the burden of sleeping when forty per cent of your grade depends on this one paper.

But seeing your hair messy with an overused coffee cup not too far away from the edge of the table, he isn't sure if he would just rather see you cry yourself to sleep or see the obvious dark shadows surrounding your eyes. What he does know right now though, is that you should just rest your whole body after depriving yourself of a whole twenty-four hours with no sleep—slightly more than that now actually.

Mark arrives behind you, the front of his oversized shirt hitting the backseat of your study chair. His arms fall onto your shoulders, slowly massaging your tension away.

"Dinner?" He tests the topic first, genuinely not knowing if you have eaten today as he was busy outside the house.

You respond with a hum, "I promise, I had it." The typing didn't cease as you continued to speak to him, "Go back to bed, Markie."

If only you could turn back to see the face he makes at your dismissive answer. "Can't," he answers simply for now. "Not when I know that you’re out here tired and sleepless."

You know that this is his way of pulling you away from the technology that is keeping you up but you decide to stand your ground, "Just a bit more."

"That's what you've been saying the past half day, bubs."

The specific timeframe is what made your fingers freeze and you tuck all your fingers into your palm except for two, scrolling up towards the start of the document. Reality suddenly sinks into you when it doesn't feel like you scrolled up a lot, but the grey bar on the right side of the screen shows that you reached the top of the document. The wave of exhaustion finally hits and your eyelids suddenly fall instantly. Mark immediately encircles his arms around you, pulling your back to rest against his chest.

It doesn't take him another second to realise that you're silently sobbing in his arms, upper body trembling in shame and disappointment with how time has passed yet no real effort is physically seen to the real world. Mark presses multiple kisses on the top of your head, tightening his hold and whispering words of comfort.

"Mark..." You decide to bury your eyes into Mark's arms, the salty liquid trickling down the safety of his arms. "It feels like time is mocking me right now..."

You've always felt this way. Indeed, time will never wait for anyone or anything, yet as humans, it's ironic that we always wait for the right time. It's annoying and it's infuriating to see the long hand of the clock easily circle while you just sit still and watch it happen.

Mark pulls away only slightly, pulling your seated body out from the table so that he can spin you around to physically put your work behind you. He then kneels in front of you, his hands enveloping yours on top of your lap.

He doesn't say anything at first and doesn't even dare to fully let go of you even when he wipes your tears away from your cheeks. Mark just offers you a smile with the crease between his eyebrows evident, letting you cry out your feelings a little bit more.

"You're doing so well," he affirms his thoughts out loud. "You don't give yourself enough credit for that, so I'm here to remind you every time."

And he does.

Mark Lee has always been great at that even when you were both still friends. You were worried that he only did it when you were both still in the flirting stages too, but four years with Mark Lee and he still says the words sincerely and truthfully. In your darkest times, that's all that you need.

Your legs push your bottoms to the edge of the seat and you practically slump into Mark's embrace as you push the seat rolling away behind you. Your arms swing around Mark's neck for stability, hiding your cries in the crook of his neck.

"I'm tired, Mark..." suddenly the ground felt wobbly, your knees giving out to keep your posture somewhat upright in his hold, “and I feel so dumb.”

Mark quickly refutes with a series of firm shaking of his head, craning his neck just slightly enough to kiss the trail that your tears leave on the apple of your cheeks. You whimper against the touch of his lips and you hate that you’re worrying the person who has proven to you over and over again that he loves you to the moon and back. His black hair fell over his eyes but it’s not hidden enough for you to miss the reassuring glimpse that his orbs gazed you with.

"Your past achievements prove you otherwise as well and I promise you that you’re not.”

And he really means that.

Your tiredness is physically shown further by the way you slump over his figure on the floor. Your knee isn't even supporting you on the ground anymore, slipping you further away from him as the fabric of your longer pants helps you slide on the polished floor to bring you closer to your boyfriend.

Mark supports your weight against his, untucking his legs from under him and spreading them beside your figure. Slowly and gently, he turns you around and sits you properly on the squared patterns. Similar to before, he makes you rest your head against where his heart beats calmly while he leans backwards slightly so that you're more comfortable in his arms around your middle. Your fingers stiffly grip his forearm, mind still clouded by the next paragraph of your work and Mark picks this up.

His eyes drift up to the black font against the white electronic paper. "Tell me the next one." Referring to the idea of your work.

He does this often, repeating the main ideas of your work so that he can store them inside his long-term memory. This way, he can tell it to you tomorrow. His love transcends forgetfulness, his mind jotting down all the main points so that you don't have to go back to doing work without sleep inside your system any longer. Mark gently sways his upper body and the weight of your eyelids becomes more apparent from the hum he lets out.

"But I just don't think I deserve to rest." It feels like the world is too active for you to do so. "I feel like I'm behind all the time."

"You're not behind," it prompts the grip on his forearm to tighten, "but you are tired and you deserve to rest now."

That's all the validation you need. You just needed to hear someone say, with a mellow voice and the beating of their heart that contrasts your erratic ones, that it's alright for you to rest, even if it's for a while. The affirmation that you're doing well is gratefully received, but you just needed someone to tell you that your eyelids can fall for the next few hours on a well-deserved mattress, in a safe place.

Next, your voice box finally releases the tension to the air and Mark Lee alternates between kisses to the side of your face and whispers to the shell of your ear all the words that would make the tension around your body fade.

That's the thing about Mark Lee. He would let you cry it out audibly, not like the ones you would bury your entire face to your pillow, suffocating and gasping for air as you tried to keep the weight on your shoulders to yourself when you were still living alone.

The tears from your eyes are valid and so did the sobs that did the same from your lips. The world blurs due to the remnants of some of the stubborn ones that didn't drop to your tear-stricken cheeks—but it's fine because Mark would always turn his head to you, the side of his fingers brushing on your lower lid, careful to not hurt the orbs that he finds love and security in.

Mark still holds you close throughout the whole time, eventually seeing how your chest gradually decreases its frequency in taking deep breaths.

Exhausted and spent, you managed to whisper, "Thanks, Mark." It's croaked and easy to miss if it wasn't for the proximity that you're both sharing.

"Always." His palm rests on your jawline and he softly turns your head, your ear now on his chest. Mark lands a quick peck on your now slightly upturned lips, "I love you."

"I love you more."

Sleeping is easier for him now that the other side of the mattress is occupied and that he can feel your warmth directly on his skin in a well-deserved resting position.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @haneul-and-clouds

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causenessus · 11 months ago

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Love Languages. | Bungou Stray Dogs

inc: dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, tecchou, jouno

written in 2nd pov (female reader implied)

song recc: do you love by trish toledo & baby bash

word count: 2324 words

pretty sure everything is written in lowercase except for names if they didn't look ugly capitalized bc aesthetics !!! had tons of fun writing this I apologize, this is barely proofread and for literally every character I got too caught up in specific examples and scenarios and just kept building off of it but I think they're kind of sweet so I hope u enjoy <3

dazai osamu - acts of service

“she peels an orange for us in the morning / she woke me up to give me half” golden girl - frank ocean

he’s terrible at taking care of himself, so someone who takes the time to care for him just makes every wall crumble

he’s probably horrible at remembering to eat as well, so if you make something for him he’ll treasure it forever

bonus points if your job requires you to wake up earlier than him (which isn’t hard, he def comes in a little later than his coworkers) and you leave something for him to eat when he wakes up or to take with him to work (or both <3)

he’ll start to look forward to waking up in the mornings in hope that you’ve made him something

never asks you if you’ll make something in specific or if you’ll even make him something at all. he adores anything you make and doesn’t want to make you feel obliged to do something if you happen to be tired and don’t want to cook tomorrow

voices all his appreciation for you when you both have laid down to go to sleep

“bella, I can’t tell you how much it means to me, all that you do. you really don’t have to make me anything if it’s a hassle in the morning or when you get home. you already work so hard.”

you turned onto your other side to face him, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear as you smiled, “I do it because I want to, ‘Samu. and because I love you. if I can’t spend the day with you because we’re both at work, at least I can take care of you.”

his chest buzzed with so much happiness his eyes stung for a moment. he held himself back from saying that he didn’t deserve you. saying something like that wouldn’t solve anything. instead, he’d make himself worthy of you by helping out as well

he probably can’t cook very well but he finds other ways to help, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, getting groceries, and cleaning the place so that there’s less on your plate

ask him to do anything and he’ll get it done for you as soon as possible <3

I think that for him, receiving such sweet love without any words is foreign to him but is just what he needs. he’d rather show how much he loves you than say it (although he loves to tell you it as well). getting out of bed could be so difficult for him some days, yet having a goal for himself has motivated him to become a better person. he wakes up, excited for what you may have made him and ready to do whatever he can for you

nakahara chuuya - gift giving

“they asked, ‘do you love her to death?’ I said, ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’” - mahmoud darwish

it’s easier for him to express how much you mean to him by giving you everything you want and everything he thinks you would like

he still tells you that he loves you every chance he gets, but oftentimes it is accompanied by a gift, no matter how small it may be, from just a single rose to a whole garden

for him, it gives a new purpose in his work; he’s working in order to get you whatever your pretty heart desires

he’s proud to use his hard-earned money to buy you things (rather than spending it all on wine <3 ily chuuya)

the easiest thing he can always get you is a favorite snack or drink and he’s got a whole system for it

he knows every store it’s available at and many of the clerks are familiar with him from the sheer amount of times he’s visited them to buy something for you. it never grows old for him, his favorite thing to do is buy you something on his way home from work or during the day when he’s planning to surprise you with a visit

he keeps a mental list of what your favorite things are. you’ll tell him about something you like without thinking anything of it but he’s already planned out when and how to give the item to you. it’s always on his mind what he’ll buy you each day, and it’s always worth it seeing you enjoy whatever he’s bought you

sometimes it’s as simple as a coffee and he’ll drop by your work to give it to you in person

“hanging in there, Angel? need a little pick-me-up?” he has the biggest smile on his face every time he sees you, and bringing a gift for you with him only adds to his excitement

“you spoil me, Chuuya,” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning further into him as he holds you in his arms.

“what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” he responds, rubbing your back as you sigh.

receiving gifts from you is just as sweet. no one has ever given him as many gifts as he’s given others–which is fine with him–it’s not about what he’ll get in return and he knows that not everyone expresses their love the way he does

but he’s touched whenever you get him something. since giving gifts is so meaningful to him, it means even more that someone would go through the trouble to give something back to him

he’ll keep whatever you get him close to him at all times and smile every time he sees it or remembers it

once, you bought him a new chain for his hat and he hasn’t changed it since. it only made the hat more special to him now that it reflects two people that had changed his life

akutagawa ryunosuke - words of affirmation

“my love, you are worth it all.”

we all know how the boy responded to dazai’s praise or even simply just the words “dazai wants to talk to you”

to hear a person who has persisted through his stubborn, aggressive defense say they still love him causes him to start to soften for you

he’s been surrounded by harsh words and people who have exploited him and brushed him to the side whenever he wasn’t needed all his life, so it stirs his heart to hear someone notice things about him and who tells him that they want to stay with him

it’s something reserved for solitary moments just between the two of you for sure, but that makes the time all the more special because he can let down his guard and just be with you

his past has made it hard for him to believe he is worthy of anything other than the murderous skills he’s harnessed in order to get him to where he is in the Mafia, but you’ve shown him that there’s more to him than just how well he can use Rashomon

he never bothers to try and listen to what other people are saying but he always gives his full attention to anything you have to say

he doesn’t even like to hear compliments from anyone else, he doesn’t trust them at all but he trusts and believes anything you tell him, knowing you have the purest intentions of loving and supporting him

after a job, all he wants to do is go home. by the end of the day, he’s sick of everyone around him so on the rare occasion that you decide to visit him, he won’t even notice until you call out to him

he had just finished a job, it was successful, but it had gotten messy. Mori had already told him off and he didn’t want to hear anything from anyone else. he stormed past every piece of vermin that had decided to get in his way, their whispers just barely reaching his ears

“Ryu!” you called out from amongst them, waiting by a door.

“What?” he hadn’t meant to snap, especially when he realized it was you talking to him and his face immediately relaxed when he saw you.

“oh, [y/n].” he immediately started to make his way towards you, the pounding in his head slowly starting to disappear the closer

“I came to pick you up, I’m glad I had good timing,” you smiled, offering your hand.

he took it gently, giving it a soft squeeze, “I’m sorry I responded so rudely, I didn’t–”

“you’re okay, Ryu,” you placed your other hand on top of it, looking him straight in the eyes, keeping a loving smile on your face, “you don’t ever have to be sorry. you’re doing just fine. even better, actually. I’m so proud of all your work and I’m sure you’re tired after everything today. it looked busy.”

the words erased every memory of Mori’s scolding that his head had latched on to in order to beat himself down later on. he felt his cheeks warm a little as he looked away, “you’re too kind to me, [y/n].”

tries his best to also put into words his appreciation but it’s so hard for him to verbally say it; sometimes it comes out wrong

instead, he’s opted for notes most of the time, leaving them on your bedside or in your bag, telling you how thankful he is for you and that he loves you

suehiro tecchou - quality time

“on the train we swapped seats, you wanted the window and I wanted to look at you.” - mahmoud darwish

my boy is always so busy

as soon as he’s off work he just wants to be wherever you’re at

he’d doesn’t mind silence and doesn’t care where he is as long as he’s with you

sometimes gets off work and if you’re not home yet just sneaks into your workplace to be around you

adores following you around and doesn’t always know exactly what you’re doing but he’s just happy to tag along

grocery store dates are some of his favorite moments with you

he loves everything about convenience stores

he loves food and the endless aisles of colorful packages and choices

(it gives him ideas for new food combinations <3)

once bought a himalayan salt shaker simply because

“look [y/n]! they make pink salt :0”

later put said pink salt on top of strawberry ice cream bc they were both pink

he also loves getting to look around the store all the while following you. he admires your organized grocery lists and how you’ve already planned out what you’re going to buy

once you tried to send him out to grab something in an area you’d already passed so that you could continue going down the list

“can you go grab some carrots for me, love? sorry, I forgot to pick them up when we were in the produce section.”

“of course 🙂” his heart is shattering inside of him at the thought of being separated from you.

“do you want to stay with me and we’ll go back later?” you ask, looking up at him with a knowing smile.

“yes pls”

groceries stores are not the only place you guys go tho i promise

if you’re still in school, he’ll accompany you on study dates

never bothers you under any circumstances and if he is and you tell him he’ll stop right away

he could spend all day looking at your pretty face even if you never once looked at him <3

jouno saigiku - physical touch

“you kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry / the sun has come this close, only the sun” “GPS” - Shauan Barbosa

although he can’t see you, he knows your body by heart <3

he’s spent so much time tracing it over and over with his hands

i think his favorite thing to do, especially after a long day at work is flop onto you and just listen to your heartbeat. probably also intertwines one of his hands with yours, often runs other across your skin

loves when you touch him just as much

if he’s lying on top of you and you decide to run a hand through his hair, all of his problems have just melted away

you both have definitely fallen asleep like that countless times no matter what time of day it is

he’s always finding ways to be in close contact with you, making sure that you’re safe and near him

again, he loves loves loves to hold your hand, he’ll reach for it any chance he gets

will also settle for an arm around your shoulder though as long as you’re close to him

definitely the type to also rest his head on top of yours or on your shoulder every chance he gets

if he needs to fidget he won’t even play with his own fingers he’ll just play with yours

i think that with the loss of one sense, the other senses hold so much meaning for him

it’s easier and more meaningful for him to show his love and how much he trusts you through touch rather than just saying it out loud

comes up from behind you to hug you a lot, especially in the kitchen or when you’ve just come home he’s there immediately, hugging you to recharge

“how was your day, my love?”

you always relax in his arms, turning your head slightly to kiss his face which he’s let rest on your shoulder, “it was missing you.”

he placed a chaste kiss on your lips, “i’ll make it all up to you now, darling.”

there was one time that he let you do his hair

he’s never told you how much he enjoyed it; he didn’t even know what you had done to it, but being near your warmth is all he needs and can ask for <3

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #tecchou x reader #tecchou suehiro x reader #jouno x reader #jouno saigiki x reader #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons

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xo-cod · 1 year ago

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Cockwarming simon and having a casual conversation but can't stop kissing and touching each other and moving a little bit so it's just talking about the most mundane stuff while kissing and moaning mid convo

i fell in love w this and it's so :") i hope you enjoy love.

cw: cockwarming, ooc/soft simon, rushed (but i can def go into more detail if you want 😵‍💫)

nothing in the world belongs to me but my love is mine, all mine

work had been tough.

it always was but this week had been incredibly difficult on him. not to mention with the fact that both of you had been so busy there hadn't been time for much of anything. he didn't think he could miss a person more, didn't think he could desire a person more than you. he all but rushed home, ignoring the looks from price and gaz and the call from johnny. he could deal with it all tomorrow, his mind and heart were after one thing. after one person.

and there you were, cuddled on the bed the remote in your hands as your eyes watched the movie mindlessly. the light illuminating your features making the moment that much more intimate. he definitely broke some rules on his drive over back home but it was all worth it, for this beautiful moment here.

"what's on?" his deep voice fills the air and your head turns, a soft chuckle leaving your lips when you see him pad through and feel the bed shift underneath his weight to come closer to you

"some rom com" came your answer and a soft laugh falls from his scarred lips, settling in right beside you.

"should've waited for me" he hummed, his fingers pulling off his skull balaclava as he took a soft breath in. humming in contentment when his lips meet your warm skin, nuzzling deep into your neck. you figured he would settle down, turn his tired eyes to the tv and watch with you until sleep ultimately claimed his body. though in your arms now, he was fidgeting and fussing unable to get close. somehow he couldn't seem to get comfortable and with a soft grunt, pulled back a little and eyed your pajamas as if they had offended him terribly

"can you... take these off, love? please?" he asked tiredly, already tugging on the hem of your top while his eyes flicked back to yours again

"you want it off?" you clarify and he nods, brown eyes burning with emotion while he shifts further into you even if he had been pressed so close to your body there hadn't been a slither of space available. and when you give him the nod of approval, his hands reach out and gently pull your top over your head. his palms skimming your warm body with delight, pressing his face closer as he peppers lazy kisses all across your chest and neck

"long day?" your tone is gentle, your arms around his neck as they gently scratch the back of his neck making him shiver with bliss. it had been one of weak spots and he adored how much you used it to your advantage

"long long day" came his response, a soft groan falling from his lips when he stretches his back a little, big hands roaming every expanse of skin he could reach. but still, even this wasn't enough for him.

"need you, need to be inside you lovie" he murmured softly, caging you securely inside his huge arms and being so close, you can smell his musk tinged with his cologne, your body reacting on autopilot. as if you couldn't deny the sweet man in your arms of anything anyway

simon's body finally relaxed for once throughout this long terrible day, arms wound closely around you. his lips nudge yours, his lips battling yours trying to steal your breath and hold it hostage with his lips. he drank in your sounds, his tongue swiping your lower lip as it dipped into your mouth

he nudged your legs apart with his knee, fingers hooked over the waistband of your underwear before he tugged it down and delicately placed it on the side of the bed. the head of his cock rubbed against the wetness of your slit. he loved teasing himself for a second or so, knowing just how good your wetness would feel around him. he could've got drunk high of this feeling every time, you never disappointed him.

a small groan when he pushes his hips a little, relishing in the way you already clenched around him. he's usually composed even through the highs of euphoria but it had been too damn long, a soft whimper escapes him at just how good you feel. he's not ghost, he's not someone that has to be in control right now. he's relinquished it all up to you, he's just someone that wants to be in the throes of pleasure again and again.

"christ, y'feel so bloody good baby" his breathing was laboured, words slurring softly as his eyes closed almost immediately when his hips thrust the slightest bit. it's not meant to be sexual tonight, he just needed to feel grounded and closer to you. he pushes until he bottomed out, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other came to the back of your neck to kiss you tenderly again and again. his face pressed in the crook of your neck as if it had been made for him, his breathing slowing down as his body calmed down for the first time that day.

"s'all yours lovie, m'yours" he could barely keep his eyes open, snuggled up close enjoying your warmth. finally feeling safe between your arms and the blanket wrapped around him

#asks #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader smut

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alottiegoingon · 7 months ago

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hc!friends to lovers

lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: going from friends to lovers with lottie

warnings: lottie mentioned as lesbian once, pure fluff, nsfw at the bottom so MDNI there, not proofread

this was a request so i hope you enjoy it 🤞

@l0tt1emy this is me tagging youu

WHEN FRIENDS

୨୧ being friends with lottie matthews would include spend your saturday night on her huge house (more like a mansion to you) when her parents were out for work or just so busy that they wouldn't even notice you there

୨୧ you didn't know that, but she would spend the entire day thinking about you when it was a sleepover night

୨୧ sleepovers would be a casual thing for you and it was your favorite moment of the day cause lottie would turn it into a fashion show to model her new clothes for you

୨୧ speaking of it, you would constantly find yourself waiting in fitting rooms and their uncomfortable seats when lottie was trying on thousands of clothes just to buy (steal) one or two

୨୧ "do you think it looks too pink?" lottie comes out from behind the curtains to display the outfit she was trying on, featuring a fluffy pink cropped cardigan with short sleeves paired with a high-waisted, pink skirt that features vertical stripes

୨୧ "no, you look perfect," you say softly, eyes filled with affection while feeling a nervous flutter stirs in your stomach

୨୧ in parties, you would usually stick to her side and even though lottie wasn't extremely popular, people knew who she was. either because her parents had loads of money or cause, let's be honest, she fucking was stunning

୨୧ when offering to get her a drink and she would look at you with those pretty eyes and nod like "okay :)))"

୨୧ if you were part of the yellowjackets, during jackie's idea of telling the girls what you admire about them, you would DEF make her blush on purpose

୨୧ "lottie matthews..." you say lightheartedly and she's already screaming internally "you have the prettiest hair i’ve ever seen and a great fashion sense. and, yeah, you suck at french but you are so good at soccer and you have the biggest and kindest heart ever"

୨୧ and she's giggling and nervously rocking from side to side with her cheeks matching the color of her clothes

୨୧ lottie was a lonely kid and since her parents were always away, she would be taken care of by maids and housekeepers so she was easily anxious when speaking to people her age. luckyfor her, she would hide it quite well and the mean and cutesy lesbian in her would mask it greatly

୨୧ "does someone want to tell kelly kapowski to maybe worry less about prom and more about not fսcking up nationals?" lottie was mumbling in front of the mirror, fixing her bangs and makeup and you were ready to agree with anything she said

୨୧ "i know right?" but you didn't even know what kelly kapowski had said

୨୧ putting her money to good use, one of her favorite ways to show you how grateful she was for your friendship was to buy you things. not like once or twice but ALL. THE. TIME.

୨୧ books, vhs tapes of your favorite movies, vinyl, a cute dress you mentioned once, nice shoes, stuffed animals, things that reminded her of you. all you can possibly think of!!!

୨୧ "lot, you didn't have to. this must have cost a fortune!" and it's just her standing at your front door, hidden behind a huge teddy bear she bought for your birthday and a brand new walkman

୨୧ one night, when lottie's parents were home, she sneaked you in and you almost fell to your death when climbing the walls like fucking spider-man and getting to her room through the window but her perfume lingering around made everything worthy when she hugged you

୨୧ "thank you for coming, i know it's late," she lies in bed and tap the empty space beside her for you to join her. "it's okay, i was just watching a movie. i'm glad you called me"

୨୧ 'movie’ you said, but the flashback of you sleeping buried under the covers and snoring like an old guy comes to your mind...

୨୧ i feel like lottie would have a hard time opening up to people and letting them in but if they were genuine, she would trust them. but def insecure about telling you about her visits to the psychiatrist cause we all know she's just a silly girl with a few issues...

୨୧ but you were so respectful, reassuring and understanding to her that she doesn't feel ashamed or judged

୨୧ during that specific night when you were just hanging around together in her bed and talking about life, an accidental graze of her nose on yours led to an awkward moment that led to awkward giggles and an awkward and messy kiss and this was all you needed to call her your girlfriend

WHEN DATING

୨୧ even when dating, lottie would often feel insecure and ask you for help. reassuring her and telling her that there she wasn't broken and there was nothing wrong with her was something you always had to do but it didn't bother you at all. you were lottie's biggest worshiper and could spend hours just telling her how BADLY you loved her

୨୧ hear me out. lottie was a big fan of holding hands. you could be in class, watching a movie, reading together, talking with your group of friends, and even eating, but she was ALWAYS staring at you with pleading eyes and her palm facing up, extended in your direction, ready for you to hold her hand

୨୧ if you think she spoiled you too much already, you better take a seat cause that girl would show up at your place with presents all the time. "i know we agreed on saving money but i know how badly you wanted these..." you're speechless when she gives you something you really wanted

୨୧ but you can't get mad, you just thank her and kiss her adorable pout :(

୨୧ loves loves LOVES to give you small gifts as well like a pretty shell she found when going to the beach once or even her ENTIRE shell collection

୨୧ strongly believe that she would be the greatest big spoon ever and would love to cuddle you but doesn’t complain if you want to hold her

୨୧ lottie is TALL. a three would be afraid of her! im 100% convinced that she would put your stuff in a place you can't reach so you have to ask her for help. "baby, are you busy? can you get that for me?" and she's fighting demons to maintain her composure, resisting the urge to smile as she handles you the book she had just tucked away on the top shelf

୨୧ over protective lottie!!! she isn’t exactly jealous cause she trusted you a lot but is always around and keeping you in her sight. she has her arm around you all the time, drives you EVERYWHERE (makes her driver do that), and is always ready to defend you

୨୧ oh the many things that happened in the backseat that the poor driver had to ignore...

୨୧ if the crash had happened, one single mumble of yours about how hungry you were was ENOUGH for her to call nat and travis out. "lottie, there's no food. we looked everywhere!" "look harder!"

NSFW (MDNI)

୨୧ lottie spoils you with cute gifts but she’s not innocent. she would buy you the prettiest lingerie in the store just to fuck you in those 🤭

୨୧ she would adore when you face ride her. she just can’t resist to your moans and soft noises or how you feel so shy and dirty about it but just can’t stop. she loves to feel your legs around her face

୨୧ in fact, i’m a strong believer that she could just cum by hearing you moan her name. you can’t believe your eyes when you feel her nails dig into your thighs and lottie desperately closing her legs and rubbing them together, groaning into your pussy :(

୨୧ big fan of overstimulating you!!! holding your hips to keep you riding her face or her strap if she’s under you or rubbing your clit even after you made a mess on her fingers just to watch you squirm and cry for her 🤓

୨୧ i’ve mentioned this before BUT fucking you against a mirror in dressing rooms? she’s all in. even better if she’s fucking you from behind with a strap AND forcing you look at your messy and humiliating reflection in the mirror

୨୧ now when it comes to her, she loves when you suck her but keep your eyes on hers. eye contact is!!!! her fingers go crazy in your hair, pulling and holding so tight that it hurts but you don’t give a damn about it

୨୧ she wouldn't ever say no but she prefers to have her time with you instead of quickies. im a lottie hopeless romantic truther!!!

୨୧ i feel like she's not really loud when you're eating her out or fucking her, she just moans your name and lets lots of soft, weak and breathy noises and whimpers out 😵‍💫

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader

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venmondiese · 6 months ago

Text

HIDDEN TOUCHES

summary: Aemond decides another fruitful payment for his eye, which he has been craving a long time. in that, he makes lucerys watch how he does it.

request from my lovely @qyburnsghost

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Rhaena Targaryen. warnings: 18+ MDNI, DARK THEMES, targcest, oral (f receiving), exhibisionsm, p in v sex, forced voyeurism, rhaena x lucerys (mentioned), they are all of age bc of my mental health, no luc*mond -- ye olde enemies to lovers

note: this def got me out my comfort zone, so here it comes!! aemond x rhaena must be one of my fav ships probably. For my sake, and bc i won't write such things, all of the people involved are of age, and i didn't picture luke as his actor because he was very much a child. i assure you that luke is NOT envolved on the sex more than watching TT so... enjoy reading!!

“Prince Aemond”

Aemond turned to the hallway to see, and his only good eye took the image of her. Pompous, with her pink dress and her braids prettily decorated with some pink ribbons. She looked ridiculously pink.

“Lady Rhaena.”

He, on the other hand, was all dark. His attire black from head to bottom, except the small gold details of the embroidery of a dragon on his clothes. His boots were imponent every time he walked around, and his eyepatch was no different colour.

The only similarity between both was the silver hair and the purple eyes.

“I see you and your…” he searches for a word, mockingly walking closer, his arms behind his back. “Kin, have come back to my home.” He says, tilting his head as he looks down at her.

Rhaena looks up to him, and her hands are clasped to the front. He has to admit how feminine she is; he has heard about her. How knights fought for her favour, and made songs for her, in hopes for her to like them.

“We are one kin after all, aren’t we?”

“I suppose you can call yourself that” he says smugly.

Rhaena looks at him with impatience. He was being rude on purpose.

“And how is my mother’s dragon?” she asks, trying to fight him back.

“Oh? You mean my dragon?”

“My mother’s” she repeats, stubbornly.

“Not anymore, is it?” He snickers, a smirk on his lips as he raises his eyebrows mockingly. It makes her fume.

“Because it was stolen”

“Because your mother died” he corrects her. “Nothing can belong to the dead, can it?”

“I suppose not” she says, faking a smile. “Even though it was stolen. You wouldn’t be able to see those things, I suppose. My bad”

She sees how it ticks him off. How his one eye twitches in place and his jaw gets tense.

“You can call it however you want, my Lady. I did not steal a legitimate right to no one. Dragons do not work like that. Not like titles” He says. “Such as Driftmark’s” He adds.

Rhaena breathes in and presses her lips together. He is taunting her on purpose, because Luke's claim has been questioned, for how unvalyrian he looks. He looks none of it.

“And you’ll carry his bastard offspring” he murmurs, as he asks, as he intends to walk away.

Rhaena looks at him at how indecent he is. She blinks in disbelief at his debauchery.

“Excuse me?” her voice stops him in his tracks, and he turns slowly, having a certain air of smugness to him.

“You two have been promised to each other since you were two years of age. It is no surprise” Aemond shrugs it off with a smirk. “Imagine it. What a shame your late mother’s wish to make you Lady of Driftmark has to come by marrying you off a Strong man”

“He is not-”

“Isn’t he?”

No one else is around. Rhaena knows. She loves Luke, she really does. He is kind and funny. But he isn’t… appealing to her romantically. He was her stepbrother, and her future husband.

“He will be a good Lord of the Tiles. A good husband too” she defends him, weakly, looking at Aemond “A Lady like me only desires for someone who shall be kind and tender. If he is so, I’d love him”.

“If it helps you sleep at night, then… believe so” Aemond shrugs, looking down at her. She wasn’t aware when they got too close, to the extent that she could practically hear his scent and hear his breathing.

Aemond was gallardly handsome, in a different way than she thought Jacaerys was. She always met handsome men in search of her favour, just for after it, having to console Luke about it, that she wasn’t going to entertain the idea of any potential lovers. They were promised to each other since they were children, and she knew that. Is not that she hates him, she is just.. Used to him. To know that in their marriage, she will provide heirs.

She often thinks that they married her to him because they want to assure Velaryon blood on Driftmark, the one in her blood that lacks his.

“Why doesn’t your father care of giving you a proper dragon rather than to marry you?”

“I will ride Vhagar soon enough” her stubborn voice comes, as if it was a threat that only used to amuse him even more, as his chest inflates and he smirks widens.

“You imagine such a silly thing, cousin, but again, if it helps you sleep at night… Who am I to judge?” he says, smugly as he smirks. “Though I do not need to imagine a better life, for I am not the future breed mare of a bastard”

Rhaena opens her eyes in disgust at his lewdness, boldness and open rude comment. She feels enraged, being seen just like that. Like an animal to breed, and later to be discarded, put aside as if nothing.

Rhaena moves her hand to slap him across his cheek, a loud smack on his right cheek that didn’t even move his face away. If anything, it hurt her wrist to do that, yet she hoped her gold rings could do some damage.

His face barely moves, and his lips curl into an amused smile as he feels the stinging slap on her face. His only eye turns to her, and before she can move her hand down, he grabs her wrist.

Even if she pulls, his grip is strong, and makes her arm go stiff. She tries to pull away, but he pulls her into his chest abruptly, to lower his head and capture her lips on a forceful kiss. Her chest is pressed against his, and she is certainly sure he is stepping on her dress. His other hand moves to the lower part of her back, forcing her to be still as he kisses her.

She hasn’t kissed anyone, just a stable boy once, but just because Baela dared her to once, but she never counted that. Still, she doesn’t know if a kiss should feel so messy as Aemond kisses her. She never thought she’d enjoy a kiss with someone who calls her a whore.

Aemond drags her as if she doesn’t weigh a thing, holding her by the wrist and making her legs follow his long steps to an isolated, dark place of the keep. She guesses that Aemond would know each little corner of his own home.

She doesn’t exactly know what his weird little room is, but Aemond closes the door, and he kisses her again, deeply, as if he needed her as the air he breathes.

“Married to a Lord” He scoffs between kisses, as his hands grip her waist. “You deserve to be a real Targaryen princess…” he trails off as he moves to kiss her neck, and she whimpers softly.

She is not sure that he knows that his wife won’t be a princess, but the thought of him wanting to give her everything he has to offer is rather… oddly sweet.

Rhaena feels his lips lowering to her breasts, and she has to blush at the lewdness, the debauchery of it. She wasn’t the most devoted follower to the faith, yet she feels embarrassed by those feelings, new, lustful feelings. She might pray for forgiveness later.

Aemond is rarely tender, she thinks. She thought he would be… forceful. But he holds her as if she is porcelain.

Tender, but hungry. There is a certain pull to him; like an invisible string that held him back, but a burning desire within to give in to his whims. He looks up at her; as if for a moment to take in her features, as if trying to look some sort of disgust in her face.

It is her who kisses him back, as he presses her against one of the wood tables around the room, and she holds his jaw with her both hands, her long nails softly scratching the begging of his jaw. She didn’t know how to kiss as passionately as he did, but she did her best.

He appreciates the kiss, as his hands move to slowly pull up softly her dress, accommodating between her legs, too close as her pink dress gets pulled up and her breath gets stuck on her throat as she pulls back to watch him. He looked at her, as she could feel his hardness pressing insistently on her clothed pussy.

“Aemond-”

“Indulge me” he says, in a raspy tone.

It is not a plea, to her it sounded as if he is asking for permission to keep going, but before she can process the question, or answer it, he just kisses her again, moving his hands in her undergarments, up to her thigh more and more. He asked for permission or just informed her? She didn’t know, but it prepared her for whatever he wanted.

“Too good to be the breed of a bastard” he murmurs against his lips, before he accommodates her atop of the wood table, and he kneels in front of her.

“Aemond-”

He doesn’t seem to hear her, and if he does, he truly doesn’t care.

She tries to move the skirts of her dress to look at him, trying to move the fabric, which she regrets using such a puffy dress. She feels his cold hands moving her underpants, and when she can see his face between all of her skirts, he just leans in to taste her pussy.

The gasp that leaves her mouth sounds more like a sob and she tries to not fall as she sits on the edge, and her hands grip the edge as Aemond moves his tongue all the way up, devouring her, taking in her taste on his wicked tongue.

“Divine” he murmurs against her cunt, diving his tongue into her again.

She squirms slightly, her body accepting the foreign touch, but she was not used to it. It was overwhelming, in a sense. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Aemond…” she repeats her name again, she can’t possibly form another word.

“What? Can’t handle a little oral from your cousin?” he murmurs, and she can practically hear the smirk on his lips, as if this amused him greatly. “To think that all knights fight for your favour, yet here you are… with me…” he murmurs, with certain pride for acquiring such a price for himself.

He was possessive about something he did not possess, since Rhaena was promised long before she could even think.

“You are so…” She tries to say, but his tongue swipes across her clit, long and flat, and so thorough. He loved how easily he could rile her up, how quickly he could push her to the edge.

As his left hand, holding her thigh apart from the other, his right hand found her entrance as he pulled his mouth back a bit, shoving two fingers inside her cunt at once, pumping them in and out, as he licked her clit. He cared not if she liked it or not, because he knew she would.

She had to bite her hand to stop the moans, little whimpers reached his ears, which was nothing but a delight.

His fingers began to move in a steady, driving rhythm, and he licked at her pussy with slow, broad strokes. His fingers curled inside her, seeking that velvety spot that would make her little whimpers turn into scandalous moans.

“Aemond, stop it, I think I-” Rhaena says, as the boiling feeling in her abdomen starts to make her legs try to close shut, because her cunt was receiving so much stimulation that she was starting to moan louder and more desperate for a something she was yet to experimentate.

He does not, because he knows what she does not; he knows how close she is to cum, to soak his mouth and he would delight himself in her taste even after she came hard on his tongue. He holds her in place, caring not if she squeezes his head between her legs, because he will not stop until she cums.

He hears her loud moans, that she tries to hide covering her mouth, her legs tremble, and he knows that she is feeling overwhelmed. She hears the little curse she says as she cums, hard on his mouth. To be fair, he has known women who cum a lot, but Rhaena… She was a new found delight of his.

“Hm, who would have said you were a squirter?” He murmurs, his face shines with the wetness, and she has to look away due to the lewdness. Good gods, what has she done? “Next time you’ll cum in my cock”

–

Those words are impregnated in her brain as she sits across the other end of the table at supper. She was beside Lucerys, as he chats with Jace, but she was drinking wine and sharing soft spoken talks with her stepmother.

Lucerys had kindness in him, true. He was.. Nice. But not… appealing to her. He tended to be like a child, and she cringed a bit at that; they were old now, at marrying age, and one had to leave the child-like reassurance in the past. And Lucerys did not.

“He is looking at me” Lucerys says in a murmur to her, which makes Rhaena look at him, out of her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Aemond”

Rhaena blinks a bit, her legs squeezing together at the name. She longed for his wicked tongue lapping her folds again.

She turns her head to watch him, in front, at the other end of the long table at the family supper. He had no expression on his face, as if one of boredom and annoyance. When her eyes meet his, she notices the slight clench on his jaw.

“He is not” she says. Imbecile. She thinks, resenting him a bit. How can he be so clueless?

He is looking at me. She wants to say, smugly even, something so unlike her. Her heart beats fast as she swallows the fact. He was looking at her.

Hearing Lucerys giggles as the pig is served, gets her clueless a bit, but she remembers the story they told her; the pink dread. That’s why Aemond said that night ‘Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride’

It stirred her wrong. The same boy who mocked a Targaryen prince about not having a dragon, many times until he stood up to them, was about to marry her… a dragonless Targaryen.

Lucerys never treated her wrong, Rhaenyra raised her boys right. But it made her uncomfortable, thinking about it. She resented him, for being able to do things, to choose, to ride a dragon, when he was… not worthy.

The rest of the dinner is a blurry image, Aemond mocking her stepbrothers, and Jace trying to defend them. Jace was dreamy, she thought, he was everything a lady like her would like. But Aemond? The bones of her needed him, and just by having one taste of him, and not him whole.

She hated herself for it. For resenting Luke, for wanting Aemond. As she walked on the halls, after her father sent them to bed, Baela went to Jacaerys, but she didn’t want to go to Luke. Why couldn’t she be like before? She accepted her fate, she is okay with it. Now it looks… like crumbs from what she could have.

“Rhaena” It’s Aemond’s voice, from the end of the stairs. She turns, and walks closer, frowning a bit. Her chambers were not on the same floor of those in the royal family, she was merely an extension of it.

“Prince Aemond”

He smirks, his chest almost inflates with delight at her words.

“I suppose you had a nice supper?”

“You were unnecessarily cruel” She states, still defending them in the kindness of her heart.

“One of my many charming traits.” He was shrugging to it, as his hand wraps her wrists. “Come on.”

She finds herself again being dragged to his chambers, and no guards are close to the hall of his rooms. Weird she thinks.

He closes the door of his chambers, which seem cold and uninviting to her, as if no one ever lived here. She can see his bed on one side, and the lonely récamier next to the fire, as he guided her quickly to sit there, not allowing her a peak of his full chambers.

“I have a surprise for you.” He says softly, a small smirk as he moves to serve her a cup of wine on the table. Her head tilts, not understanding a bit. “It’s more like a… proof of my loyalty.”

Rhaena frowns, what could he even give her? Jewels? Dresses? She takes the cup he gives her, and he goes back to serve himself another. She looks at the other side of the room, thinking about what kind of gift Aemond could give…

“Lucerys” She says, standing up immediately, her voice surprised, and her heart balls to her stomach, as she sees her betrothed, tied to a chair, and his mouth muffled as he tries to move the unmovable chair.

He doesn’t seem hurt, or bleeding, just desperate to get out of the chair.

“Aemond, why would you do such a thing?” She cries, as she leaves her cup somewhere to be quick to untie him.

“I told you” Aemond says, grabbing her elbow, and not allowing her to help him. “A gift”

Rhaena feels distressed, she looks at the dagger on Aemond’s waist, little dragon details full of sapphires, very sharp and very much him. She hesitates, and she fears that he’ll take his debt, an eye for an eye. Lucerys is at his mercy, and she wouldn’t be able to fight against him, she knows it.

“Aemond, this is madness. Untie him” she says, her voice kind, and even if she resents the boy, she loves him, as a brother. “He has done…” She stops herself before finishing, because saying that ‘he has done nothing wrong’ would throw Aemond into madness. “Take it out on me”

Aemond raises his eyebrow. Lucerys’ voice comes as a muffled scream, but she doesn’t care.

“I was there too. I have the blood of the dragon, and Velaryon blood too…” She says, standing up for him.

Aemond looks at her, and he walks closer. She can hear Lucerys’ sounds coming out as desperate, as if he was afraid that he will harm her. But she knows better than him.

“Silly girl” He says smirking, patronisingly to her. “You really don’t have a clue of the world..”

Rhaena stands still, looking at her as she blinks a bit confused. She clenches her fists, and she follows him as he sits on the récamier, standing in front of him. Surely, she daydreamed about him? Yes. Did she want him to ravish her and fuck her? Surely. Did she hope that he’ll steal her away from a betrothal that by the passing second seems dreadful? No doubts. But to make Lucerys suffer from it… she was far too kind and sweet to do so.

“Stop this madness” She tries to plead with him.

“Madness? Perhaps” Aemond says as he takes his coat off, and he grabs his dagger, pointing it to her, as he sits calmly. “But also intensely pleasurable. For me, at least” He shrugs, and smirks. “Take off your underpants”

Rhaena is taken aback, as she steps back looking at him. She turns to watch Luke, who shakes his head from side to side, as Aemond moves his dagger to press it against the fabric of her dress.

“It is not a petition” He hurries her.

Rhaena looks at the dagger. “But don’t damage my dress” she says moving back, as she leans to fetch the end of her dress to take her under pants off. It amuses Aemond greatly how she cares for such womanly things as dresses. It is endearing.

Rhaena extends to him her underpants, and he inspects them, smirking. He stands up, and moves to Lucerys, smugly. “She is truly a vixen.” He says, leaving the underpants on his lap. “You had her hidden, not so well, hm?”

Rhaena feels embarrassed, and more ashamed because it turns her on. It was a torture to her, between duty and her most hidden desires. Lucerys was the boy she was promised to, but Aemond was the man she craved.

“You won’t hurt him?” She asks as he sits back, and he sighs, moving to undo his breeches.

“I’ll spare him… for now. Won’t hurt him, physically, at least.” He says grabbing her waist and his other hand moving to her skirts to pull them up. “I’ll just make him watch as I take what’s mine. How a true dragon takes what they want.” He says smugly, forcing her to sit on his lap, her back pressed against his chest as he moves his breeches for his cock to be free.

He slides his hands, taking the edge of her dress to push it all the way up to her waist, in which Rhaena has to grab his knees so as not to fall. He has the same idea, as with one hand he holds her skirts up, and the other moves to spread her legs apart, revealing her glistening cunt to the onlooker.

“Isn’t her cunt so…” Aemond trails off, and Rhaena understands what he is doing, showing her intimacy to Luke as if mocking him for having what he doesn’t.

“Aemond” Rhaena murmurs in a whine, embarrassed as she tries to press her legs together, shy to be seen so exposed.

The oldest prince grins at her embarrassment, leaning to kiss the side of her neck. “Shy, cousin? Don’t be, you are beautiful… enough to arouse anyone just with a look” he says amused, his voice almost a low purr. He glances at Lucerys, his chin pressing on her left shoulder, and he glances over at the bulge growing on his pants. Pathetic, he thinks. “Just like it does to him, no doubt. Watching you like this must be quite… stimulating.” He trails off, letting his fingers down on her body, to her cunt.

He savoured Rhaena’s discomfort, and the Strong’s arousal. He leaves soft kisses on her neck, and exposed shoulder, as he moves her body to his delight.

“Your maidenhood..” He murmurs, looking at her “Shall be mine”

The feel of Aemond’s cock sliding on her cunt is a slight discomfort at the beginning, as she was not used to feeling something pushing insistently inside. She is wet, and her mouth falls open as she has to shut her eyes, wanton sounds leaving her.

“Fucking you right in front of him. While he watches and wishes he could be in my place” He says smugly, his voice tense due to the way her cunt clenched around his cock inside, as if she was made to take him in every way. “You take my cock like the good girl you are.”

It was mortifying for her first time being in front of her betrothed, instead with him, on her wedding night, with him as her husband, not as a viewer. She opens her eyes to look at him ,and she cannot understand his face. He is somewhat mortified, panting as he still fights against the bounds. She can see the erection on his pants, and she feels ashamed. But the feeling does not last long as Aemond’s cock is thrusting in her insides and forcing her to leave the shame away, replacing it with pure lust.

The thick length of his cock grinds deliciously in her walls, Aemond loves the feeling of her cunt just trying to milk him, as she moans loudly, for the bastard to hear. He holds both of her wrists on her back making her bounce on his cock to fuck herself. He smiles, her dress surely would be wrinkled, and he takes the chance to slap her ass as he turns his gaze down to watch his dick disappearing on her cunt.

“Watch closely, Strong. This is what a real man looks like. This is what it means to truly claim a woman” Aemond smirks, as his cock went in and out of her, his cock slick with her juices. “See how hard he is from watching us. Knowing that if you truly liked him, your maidenhood would have been his. But it is not, and you won’t be his”

There is a certain air to Aemond that Rhaena craves. She finds herself nodding along with every word he says, his cock inside barely leaves her any room to think. She just needs him, deeper, harder, more and more.

“You will cum, pretty girl?” Aemond asks softly, voice more tender when referring to her. He loved to praise her, he realised. She was such a pretty thing to admire, it was inevitable. He reached around to rub Rhaena’s clit, his thumb rolling the sensitive nub as he pushed his cock deep into her cunt. “Cum all over yourself, darling”

Maybe it’s the endearing name or the overwhelming sensation of his cock so deep,slamming against her cervix and his balls smacking against her ass, but she moans wantonly as she cums, her purple eyes rolling back in her head as her orgasm hit, the sweat on her body makes her feel more overwhelmed, and spilling her release all over his thrusting cock.

“Take it, fucking take it…” He groans at the sensation of her tight cunt clenching around his cock, using her pleasure to spur himself on. “Such a good girl…”

Aemond buries himself to the hilt inside Rhaena, his cock pulsing as he pours his seed deep into her womb. He smirks to himself, as his forehead rests against her back as they pant, the Strong bastard long forgotten by both.

As his softening cock slips out of her used cunt, he knows one thing; she is his now. He puts his cock back to his pants, and he finishes the last remnants of the wine, leaving Rhaena panting on the chair.

He watches his pathetic nephew, still struggling against his restraints, and gazing at Rhaena, as if wanting to check her security. Aemond rolls his eye before taking his dagger once again, which makes the little shit struggle even more.

If Aemond wanted his eye, he would have got it before Rhaena came in. He instead cuts the bounds and grabs the neck of his shirt, pulling him to walk out the door as he takes off the restraint on his mouth.

“You will— Regret this” Lucerys says panting, trying to gain his composure as Aemond pushes him out of his chambers.

“Yeah, yeah, I surely will, bastard” He says patronisingly, kicking him out of his chambers. “Deal with your pathetic cock first” He added before closing the door on his face.

He is quick to return to Rhaena’s side, holding her into his arms as he lays in the récamier, with her cuddling atop of him.

“I didn’t ruin your dress…” He murmurs, and she faintly smiles.

“Thank you” Rhaena murmurs softly.

Aemond hesitates, his hand caressing her back. He is not good with words, never has been.

“You can… stay” He says softly. “Vhagar is big enough for both” He adds “And she puts eggs from time to time, and… One of her eggs can be yours” He says softly “Like your sister has Moondancer from Vhagar, maybe another egg will be for you…”

Rhaena looks at him, and is a bit confused by his change of demeanour. “Thank you” she murmurs softly, nuzzling to his embrace. “For caring”

“I know how it feels” he adds quietly, still caressing her back. “To be trapped too”

Rhaena hesitates a bit, not sure if to reveal her heart’s secrets to him, but at this moment, when Luke is probably snitching on them, she trusts in him.

“I just… They are good boys. But… Driftmark… and such… Baela would be an excellent lady. She was born to do that.”

Aemond nods softly “And you?”

“I am not worthy in my father’s eyes.”

He can sense Rhaena’s loneliness and he hugs her tighter. “You are more than worthy to me. Perhaps, and only perhaps, I will die very soon to leave Vhagar to you”

Rhaena chuckles a bit, and she looks at him with her soft, tender purple eyes. “Don’t. Tomorrow you and I will ride on her, go to Oldtown and escape from our families. My father will be absolutely mad”

Aemond smirks at the prospect, and he takes the challenge.

“I hope your silly dresses don’t take too much space” He jokes, and she giggles a bit.

They talk for a bit more, Rhaena feels exhausted, but she forces her eyes to stay open and listen to Aemond respond to her questions. After some time, he insists on getting up, and at least for her to have a decent nightgown if she was sleeping around here.

The banging on his door makes him know who it is.

“Open the door, you one-eyed bastard!” It’s Daemon's voice, which Aemond feels not so bothered about.

“We can leave through the passageway if you want” He says to Rhaena, while she shakes her head, she has to face her fears.

She walks silent, as she hears the voices of her family on the other side, and she opens the door all by herself. She watches his father, as if he was ready to depart King’s landing, alongside with Rhaenyra wearing her coat, and Lucerys behind her.

“Are you okay, Rhaena?” Rhaenyra asks, but Daemon interrupts her.

“I am going to kill him-”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rhaena says softly, looking at the three of them. “I am fine”

Aemond walks behind her, and smirks. “Sister. Uncle, nephew. Don’t you want to enter?” He asks mockingly, crossing his arms.

Daemon seems furious, but Rhaenyra stops her, trying to calm her husband from killing Aemond.

“What has gotten into you?” Daemon asks, “Giving yourself as if-”

“Daemon” Rhaenyra stops him, trying to hold him back, and Lucerys looks at Rhaena, with… something she can’t decipher. Disappointment? Disgusted? She can’t understand the face, and it shames her a bit to hurt him like that, but it’s not like she regrets it.

“He forced her” Lucerys corrected Daemon, still defending Rhaena’s honour. “I saw it”

Rhaena cringes, and she can see that so does Rhaenyra. She bites her lower lip as if considering her words, before speaking up again “He didn’t force me to anything.”

Rhaenyra looks at her, and she tries to get the best of the situation. Daemon seems more upset, but Rhaenyra shushes him.

“Well, we can always go back to Drag-”

“I’d say she rather enjoyed it” Aemond speaks up in a smug tone.

The four of them turn to look at him, as he so smugly shrugs.

“You bastard!” Daemon says before jumping to hit Aemond in the face, which the younger prince takes no interest in fighting, despises the hard hits on his face.

It’s Rhaenyra with the help of Arryk that helps them to separate (or to separate Daemon from Aemond), as she reprimands him for making the situation much worse. No one else about Aemond and Rhaena’s affair, and he was taking out any mean to talk them out of it, to remind Rhaena of her duties as a future bride to Lucerys, instead, Daemon entertains the amusement in which Aemond seems to relish himself into into torturing them all.

“You will marry Lucerys Velaryon” Daemon tells her daughter, pointing his index finger at her, not leaving room for her to protest.

“I challenge prince Lucerys Velaryon to a duel, then” Aemond says, standing up with no problem, despising his bloody cheekbone. “For Lady Rhaena Targaryen’s hand in marriage”

Rhaenyra’s face is pale, out of any colour that she might have, and so does Lucerys. Rhaena looks at him, shaking her head. Sure, she wanted to get out of the betrothal, but to murder Lucerys? She won’t be part of it.

“Aemond, don’t”

“I’ll kill you before you put another finger on my daughter”

“Gladly, uncle. Only after I kill the little lord Strong”

"Do you dare to duel for my daughter's hand with her betrothed? What kind of-"

"Didn't you do the same with mum? You killed her betrothed in a duel" Rhaena says frowning, and Daemon gets quiet to that.

Rhaenyra looks at Lucerys, horrified at the prospect of it. He doesn’t seem particularly thrilled or prepared for it either, and there was nothing he could do to possibly win in a duel with Aemond.

Rhaena tries to make Aemond understand the reason, to do anything but.

“Just break the betrothal” Rhaena says to Rhaenyra. “I am not a maiden, and Aemond will take me as his.”

Aemond sees the face of his half sister, she finds herself in an impossible situation. He turns to the little bastard pup, shitting himself behind his mum, unable to do any harm to him ever again, and he will make sure of it. That it hurts once he stabs him in the eye.

Her sweet Rhaena has such a pure heart, and his hand finds her to feel the warmth of her kindness, that he sometimes lacks. But they'll manage, he knows that.

#rhaemond #rhaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond x rhaena #rhaena of pentos #aemond one eye #hotd #house of the dragon #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond smut #hotd aemond #rhaena x aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemondtargaryen #prince aemond targaryen #lady rhaena targaryen

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trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired.

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase.

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion.

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything.

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all.

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever.

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her.

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it.

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done.

At least since the murder of their mother.

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth.

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this.

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does.

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done.

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine.

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space.

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability.

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess.

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer.

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped.

He’s pissed.

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?”

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother.

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s.

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him.

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her.

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet.

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—”

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.”

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial.

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. ��The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience.

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary.

And the day isn’t even halfway over.

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message.

Roman: Come over tonight.

As expected, her reply comes almost right away.

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline.

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people.

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well.

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen.

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves.

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity.

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in.

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops.

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons.

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors.

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger.

“Where’s the room?”

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest.

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance.

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room.

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts.

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning.

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located.

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper.

And that’s exactly what happens.

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one.

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse.

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection.

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight.

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though.

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.”

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go.

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome.

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.”

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face.

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing.

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.”

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable.

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store.

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is.

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked.

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary.

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t.

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more.

He’s ignored them everytime.

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight.

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight.

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…”

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected.

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone.

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized.

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?” His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all.

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him.

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest.

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

—-----

Roman finds her out back on the patio.

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone.

And she is.

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day.

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him.

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about.

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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poetryvampire · 22 days ago

Text

Nsfw Alphabet for Gil Galad ✨

💛 Gil Galad x gn Reader 💛

The brainrot has gotten to me so bad and I need more high king content like yesterday. Pls enjoy!

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

There's going to be so much cuddling and you're not going to be able to escape, those strong arms are around you and you're locked in. The high king may be satisfied sexual for now but he still craves the feel of your body and intimacy of having you close to him.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Though sometimes he's still a bit self conscious of his broad chest and shoulders (he'll never have that classic slender elf look) he loves seeing how much you adore his build, its been a big confidence boost.

As for you, it's a hard choice but probably your lips he's def got a low key oral fixation you didn't hear it from me. He's mesmerized by them always. Watching them curl into a smile, feeling them on his skin. Kiss him all over and he's yours forever.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

The breeding kink this elf has? Insatiable. Regardless of your situation Gil Galad's chomping at the bit to pin you down and fill you as much as he can. Careful though, if you tease him or really lean into it bag for it you're in for a very long, very overstimulated night. The sight of his thick seed running down your thighs is enough to get him hard and ready to pump you full again.

D - Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs)

Would never under any circumstance admit it but if you're going to be separated for a while he will make a point of taking some of your clothes and under things. The comfort of your sent has helped him through a lot of stressful lonely nights.

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Fairly experienced. Despite giving off the appearance of a prim and proper king he's pretty open to casual sex and experimentation on the rare occasions he can find the time. That being said he loves learning about his lovers and figuring out how best to give them what they need.

Gil Galad usually falls into the role of a soft dom. That's definitely his favourite. But he's open to anything especially with a trusted partner.

F - Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Mating press Honestly he just adores looking at you, so any one where he has a good view. Like a variant on missionary like anvil or butterfly. Also once you've been together for awhile and Gil Galad becomes fully comfortable with you taking charge he loves when you ride him. Will beg and whine and cry for it if you work him up enough.

G - Goofy (Are they serious or humorous in the moment?)

He's pretty serious for the most part during the act as he wants to make sure you know exactly how much you mean to him. He saves all his witty remarks for the lead up or during aftercare. Gil Galad can never get enough of your smile and will sass and tease you to no end when the time is right.

H - Hair (How well-groomed are they?)

Listen. I feel like I see a lot of people lean into the hairless high elf thing and that's just not my jive. Let me have this

By elf standards Gil Galad would be considered very hairy. He's very well groomed but doesn't bother to shave it. He has a good amount of chest hair but a thick, dark happy trail and bush.

I - Intimacy (Romantic aspect)

Once the High King gives himself the time for a partner he needs it to stay sane. He had a habit of using work as a distraction for the lack of intimacy in his life but now that he has you he craves it very often. Physical and emotional closeness means the world to him, they're one of the simple joys of nature that make life worth living.

J - Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

Tries his best not to when his kingly pride gets the best of him but of course this only leads to him being more pent up than ever. He'll often do it in bed without evening meaning to. Either unable to sleep or dreaming of you and his body will just take over. He'll be painfully hard and start rutting desperately into the mattress or a pillow. He won't be able to stop until he's cum all over himself, one hand over his mouth trying to stifle his groans.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Gil Galad is and absolute king of soft doms. Good lord nothing makes him feel as good as pleasuring you, especially when its before he's found any satisfaction. He really wants to work for his release. Adores lavishing you slowly and sweetly until you're and overstimulated mess.

L - Location (Favorite places to have sex)

When his plans for the night are long- which they often are- he prefers his chambers. However, his majesty has a bit of an exhibition kink he likes to explore now and then. There's something about seeing you naked in nature that really takes his breath away. He loves how your skin looks in the sunlight. So he's been known to get frisky while out on a walk or picnic in the woods.

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Gil Galad may come off as a bit cold or temperamental at times but at heart he's an old school romantic so a lot of it can be little acts of kindness and devotion. Witnessing them make him mushy and emotionall at times, overwhelmed buy how lucky he is to have you. And suddenly he'd be filled with passion and desperate to kiss you everywhere at once.

N - NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He's not doing anything that could actually hurt you, so he's really not here for hard domming. Remember he's not just a king but a very seasoned and capable warrior. He's much more strong than you and keeps it in mind during sex just in case. He's very ok with pinning you down, light bruising, even spankings but anything that could draw blood is out of the question.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's completely mad for the taste and sent of you so he defiantly prefers giving. The feeling of you pulsing and dripping against his tongue gets him hard like nothing else.

P - Pace (Fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

More often than not it's slow and sensual. He really wants to luxuriate in your bodies and pleasure, really make sure that his desires are not only for your body but also from a place of love.

Q - Quickie (Opinions on quickies)

Ok I know what I just said, but as high king he's also busy as hell and sometimes just needs to grab you and lose himself in you as soon as possible. On more than one occasion he has taken you on his desk in-between meetings.

R - Risk (Do they experiment or take risks?)

Gil Galad is willing to take risks but depending on what kind it may take a bit for him to get comfort. One of the biggest ones for him was letting you dom him. He's an elf that likes control and so used to controlling himself and others and letting goes of that wasn't easy at first. Learning to let go under your guidance was not only extremely pleasurable but did a lot to ease his anxiety. You make him feel safe and that means everything to him.

S - Stamina (Rounds, how long they last)

High. Very high, too high at times. Especially if you've been parted for a while or if you really work him up over breeding you. We're talking all night long best of luck walking tomorrow kind of stamina. Sometimes he wont even need to fully pull out between rounds. You'll be coming down from the high, still wrapped around each other, feeling his soft cock inside you when suddenly its growing and he's slowing bucking into you again.

T - Toy (Do they own/use toys?)

Not so much toys but Gil Galad loves adding in adornments like silk ropes, blindfolds, lingerie and massage oils. Again he likes to take his time and go all out.

U - Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

LOVES to tease and is so so smug about it. Lives to work you up and leave you hanging, seeing you writhe and beg for him over and over. However he will also be a whiny overdramatic nightmare if you do the same to him.

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Lots of noises but it's usually pretty low until the end. Even simple affections like kisses can draw soft sighs and hums from him. He's very vocal once into it, lots of deep throaty groans, tends to ramble out either sweet earnest words of love or the filthiest descriptions of what he wants to do to you youve ever hear.

W - Wild Card (Random headcanon)

Thinks bathing together is the most romantic thing in the world. If you come to him after a battle and help him out of his armor and into a hot bath he'll get very emotional. Wash his hair? Hold him and help wash away his heavy thoughts? Will actually cry.

X - X-Ray (What’s under the pants)

Just like the rest of him he's quite large, both in length and girth so he's also very careful to give you lots of prep before you take him. Also veiny as hell. No matter how long you've been together nothing gives him as much of a high as watching him stretch you open to accommodate him.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Good at keeping it under control until he's in a relationship then it goes sky high. Constantly yearning to touch you, doesn't even need to be sexual. He's aching to feel you at his side or your hand in his. Your presence is such a comfort to him. And of course he is just a man elf and will often find his mind drifting to the curve of your lips or the breathless moans he could be pulling from you during a dull meeting.

ZZZ - Sleep (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Somewhat quickly- especially after a few rounds- but only if you're pressed against him. Gil Galad Loves feeling and holding you after sex. He'll keep you close while alternating between soft kisses, caresses and murmuring words of love until you're both passed out. Gets the best sleep of his life like this.

#lord i need him #rip #the brainrot is real #high king gil galad #silmarillion #trop #nsft alphabet #gil galad #gil galad x reader #smut #the rings of power #Gil-Galad #nsft

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francisofthespook · 6 days ago

Text

Daryl SFW Alphabet !!

I'm leaving for a roadtrip tomorrow and idk how active I'll be so here's a little something I wrote today. Writing this def gave me some good ideas for some oneshots... :)

Words: 3,291 (including the prompts)

Warnings: None really, mostly fluff/ one teeny tiny little mention of suggestive content but it's literally like half a sentence/maybe some allusions to violence

Template from: https://the-coldest-goodbye.tumblr.com/sfw-template (@the-coldest-goodbye )

((I only proofread this once so I may go back in and edit it if I find any mistakes))

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At first, Daryl, would be super affectionate, but only in private. He might interlock a pinky with you while you’re all around the campfire at the quarry and the farm, but when no one else is around he would be so mushy. Maybe later on, around the time they get to Alexandria and they begin to feel some safety and stability, he would be a bit more affectionate in public. He would place his hand on the small of your back and stand close to you while you talk to the Alexandrians to subtly let them know you were taken, and maybe he would kiss your temple before he or you went out on a run without the other.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Daryl would be your best friend at first. He would always find a way to make you laugh, even if he wasn't really trying to. He would bring you little things he finds while he's out hunting like pretty flowers and rabbit's feet for good luck. He would always stick up for you when the group makes you feel like your suggestions are stupid. There would be a slight shift pretty soon into the friendship though where he realizes that he wants something more. He wouldn't say anything, he would wait for you to make the first move, or at least until he was pretty positive you felt the same way. He wouldn’t want to risk ruining your friendship if you didn't feel the same way. He would happily be your friend for the rest of your lives if that's all you could give him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Y E S! Daryl loves cuddles, there is nothing that makes him feel more loved than at the end of the day, regardless where you are, when you guys lay down and you curl up into his arms. He would usually stay awake for a little longer than you to make sure that it was safe…( totally not because he loves watching how your face relaxes when you finally fall asleep…) (and definitely not because your little snores warm his heart so much…) (and for sure not because he is enamored by the cryptic mumbling you do in your sleep, always trying to stay as still and quiet as possible so he can try and decipher what you're saying…)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

There is nothing Daryl wants more than to be able to settle down with you. But given the state of the world, it wouldn't be easy for a while. Sometimes at night, before you get to Alexandria, he would almost tear up watching you fold your clothes and arrange your shared tent, longing for some normalcy in this world so that he can just enjoy his life with you instead of having to fight for it every day.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Early on in your relationship, Daryl might try to leave you a few times. Not because he has fallen out of love, but because he’s worried you're too good for him. He thinks so little of himself and that you deserve better than him. Sometimes just a small thing can trigger this thinking and he will go off into the woods for a while to try and work through his thoughts. But you always find him and tell him that you don’t want anyone else, only him. Once he finally feels comfortable enough in the relationship, there is absolutely nothing that can tear you apart. The only thing that would end the relationship, is if one of you dies.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Daryl had never envisioned himself settling down and getting married. But when you guys get together, he is so overwhelmed by his love for you that he kinda starts to want that. Of course, it isn't really a possibility now, but he would find you a ring one day while out on a run and bring it back to you. He would walk you down to the edge of the prison yard where no one can see you and lay with you in the grass for a while before he rolls over and gently grabs your wrist, lifting it up and slipping the ring onto your finger. “Daryl Dixon, are you proposing to me?” you would say in a smug tone. “Dun need a ring to know I’m yers, but thought it would look pretty on ya” You wouldn't say much after that, not wanting to ruin the moment. This world was filled with so many uncertainties that it was scary to get so close to someone. But at the same time, the ring would become a symbol to you of what you were fighting for, a world where you could just be safe and have a happy life with your partner.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Typically, Daryl is the biggest softie around you, ‘no’ is not a word in his vocabulary when it comes to you. He would be so careful with you that it almost sometimes frustrated you. But when it came to your safety, he would be a bit more firm, blatantly telling you ‘no’ when you ask to come on a riskier run. He would not take any chances, so sometimes he was a bit more rough when he really had to put his foot down. But you knew that he was only like that because he cared so much so it doesn’t really bother you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Being hugged by Daryl would be one of your favorite things in the world. He would engulf your entire body like a warm blanket and hold you firmly close to him. He would always put one arm around your back, the other holding your head while he leaned his own into your shoulder. Sometimes he would gently rub your back in soothing circles while he embraced you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear when no one else was around.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would probably be a while before Daryl told you he loved you, but he would have known it for a long time before actually saying it. He would probably wait for you to say it first, not wanting to scare you off by making things more serious. As much as he would want to make a big deal about it, his anxiety would get the best of it and he would probably say it in passing one day, without bringing too much attention to it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Only God himself could save someone from the wrath of a jealous Daryl. It was never something that he really had to deal with while you guys were on the road, maybe a few times here and there, but let's just say that the guys you ran into who made remarks won't ever make them again. When you get to Alexandria, he would have to reel in his rage a bit more, given these were people you would have to live with. But there would definitely be a few guys who suffered a fist to the face when they looked at you a certain way. The residents of Alexandria picked up pretty quickly that you were off-limits.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Daryl would kiss you alllll the time. He would kiss your head a lot since he’s much taller than you and there wasn't much privacy in the early days. You guys would never get into anything too passionate in public obviously, but behind closed doors, it was like he was the thirstiest man alive and you were the last drop of water left on earth. Before he would leave for a run he would hold the sides of your head with both hands and press a long kiss into your forehead before giving you a small peck on the lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Children make Daryl a little uncomfortable at first. He never really knew how to act around them and what not to say. But over time he would grow very fond of Judith and RJ. When you guys get to the Commonwealth, you would basically adopt them. He would treat them like his own, playing with them when he had time off and reading them books in the evening. He wouldn’t want kids of his own, which was fine because you wouldn't either, but he would be more than happy being the appointed guardian of Rick's kids for the time being.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Much to your dismay, Daryl was a morning person. In Alexandria and the Commonwealth, he would get up early in the mornings and make you something to eat while you slept a little while longer. He would quietly slip into your room and gently wake you up before handing you the plate of whatever he threw together. You guys would just sit in bed for a bit while you ate and talk about what you had to do for the day. Usually, he would eventually have to go do some sort of work, so he would tuck you back in and give you a kiss on the forehead before heading out and letting you catch a few extra hours of rest.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

In the evenings, you would cuddle up close to each other while you would whisper stories from your childhood. Over time, this nightly routine would become an exchange of stories, and he would share a few short memories from his own childhood. When you both eventually either ran out of stories or simply began to forget them, you would both talk about the future. What your imaginary house would look like, and how many cats you would adopt. When you had those talks, he would end them by leaning close to your ear and whispering “one day”, before giving you a kiss and drifting off to sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Figuring out Daryl would be like trying to put together a puzzle with pieces you find hidden around a maze. Every once in a while he would drop a little tidbit about himself and you would memorize it and store it away, placing another piece in the slowly growing puzzle until you eventually begin to see the picture. Each time you would reference something he had told you before, or picked up something for him on a run that reminded you of a story he told you, he would fall deeper and deeper in love. It was the little things that meant the most to him, he was never one for grand gestures.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

To this day, the group still cannot comprehend how well he’s able to keep his patience with you. There were more than a few times that you made dumb mistakes, or got hurt, but he rarely broke. Sometimes, he would crack just a tiny bit when you did something that could've gotten you injured, but he would take a deep breath to calm himself down before apologizing and reminding you that he's not upset, he just doesn't want you to get hurt.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You would begin to think that Daryl knows you better than you know yourself. Not only did he remember every single thing you ever told him, no matter how big or small, but he also became an expert in analyzing your every move. He could spot your emotions sometimes before you even understood what you were feeling, always knowing how to approach you and talk to you based on your mood and expressions. You wouldn’t realize it at first, but when he begins to bring you little things like candy you mentioned once that you used to like, or your favorite color sweater, you knew he was in deep. No one had ever made you feel more loved or more seen than he does.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He would probably just enjoy all the quiet moments you were able to have together. Maybe his favorite would be the day you both went out to an empty field near Alexandria, devoid of walkers and had a picnic in the grass. You laid around for a while, watching the clouds pass by before you realized that he was watching you and not the sky. “What?” You stifled a laugh and asked him. “Nuthin’. You're just so beautiful” You blushed a deep red and that only made him grow more enamored. He wasn't able to help himself, he leaned over and kissed you. He knew it was risky, but his need for you overtook him and you made lazy love in the field.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

In his mind, Daryl’s number one job is keeping you safe. Yes of course, he cared greatly about the group’s safety, but you were always top priority. Hell hath no fury like Daryl when he’s coming for someone who hurt you, on the rare occasion that they got through him. He would die for you in an instant, no hesitation. It would worry you, how much he risked his own life to keep yours safe, but you knew that it was a moot point. There was nothing you could say or do to convince him to back down. He would protect you until he was no longer breathing.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Daryl has never really been in a relationship before, so he doesn't know what to do. He's constantly asking Carol for ideas of gifts, dates, and small kindnesses he can do for you to show how much he loves you. She would tell him that he just needs to follow his heart and do whatever feels right, not try to force it. On the rare occasion that you had the time and safety, he would plan little dates. Taking you out to a spot that he had cleared the day before while telling everyone else you were going on a run. He would give you little handmade bracelets, trinkets he found while he was out, and cook for you as often as he could. But would feel like no actions could ever portray how much he loves you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

You would be frustrated by how quick he would be to defend your honor. Even when someone would say something so small and insignificant, if Daryl thought it was an insult, fists would begin flying. But secretly, you loved how defensive he was of you. And you had to admit, it was pretty funny seeing Spencer whimper and scurry away from Daryl whenever they locked eyes, it's a shame his nose never did heal right.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Daryl doesn't care at all how he looks, unless he thinks that you don't like something. He would let you cut his hair when it got too long, and trim his beard when it got unruly, but you thought he was perfect just the way he is so he was content with himself. He would be a little insecure about his scars when you guys first get together, but it wouldn't take too long for him to feel comfortable enough with you to take off his shirt.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

When Daryl was without you, it was like a piece of his heart was missing. He would constantly be on edge and anxious to get back to you. He had fallen so hard, it would be actually impossible for him to exist without you anymore. Runs were hard, especially when he would be gone for a week or more, but he would keep a little polaroid photo of you in his vest pocket to try and fill a tiniest bit of the void that you left.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Daryl would write you notes. Whether it be a sticky note on your pillow in the morning when you woke up telling you that he had run to Ricks and would be back soon, or a note he slipped into your backpack before you left for a run telling you to be safe, and that he would miss you and couldn't wait for you to get back. When he is working on the bridge, he sends you letters by ‘mail’, making whoever is running back and forth to Alexandria drop it off on your porch. These letters would be longer, detailing what all they had done that day and how much he missed you. You would write letters back to him and every time he saw the courier coming up on the camp, he would rush over and grab your letter before retreating back into his tent to read it. He keeps all of them in a small box hidden under his bed, and sometimes when he can't get to sleep at night, he’ll read them for a while until he's able to drift off.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Daryl wouldn’t like it when you wore makeup. Sometimes you would find an old tube of concealer or eyeshadow while you’re out and you would take it home and wear it for a bit. He didn't necessarily think it looked bad but he thought you were beautiful just the way you were, so he would tell you that you didn’t need it and sometimes try to hide it so you can't use it again. Although, he did love it when you got wine drunk and put on your reddest lipstick and gave him kisses all over his face and chest while giggling and telling him how much you love him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Daryl is such a blanket hog. When he first falls asleep he cuddles up next to you and holds you close, but as the night goes on he begins to slightly toss and turn, and usually he ends up taking the covers with him. It wasn’t unusual for you to wake up in the middle of the night to a chill breeze and see Daryl on the other end of the bed with the covers half hanging off his side, half wrapped around him like a cocoon. He would always feel bad when he woke up and saw you were uncovered, so eventually, he would find an extra large blanket that covered you both, no matter how much he moved around.

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon headcannons #daryl dixon sfw headcannons #daryl dixon fluff

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