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writersdrug · 2 months ago

Note

I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader

I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex

He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?

Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.

"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."

Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?

He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."

That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.

Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.

"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.

"Sir."

Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.

"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."

Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.

He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."

With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-

For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.

And that damn bra is still in his room.

He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?

He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…

He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?

He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.

So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.

He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.

He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.

He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?

He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-

It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-

He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.

His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.

He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.

He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.

He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x reader

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tender-rosiey · 1 month ago

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Hii, can I request a fic where sukuna is trying to court the reader but she's still scared of him and doesn't realize what he's trying to do?🫶🏾

tethered — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i could not let reader be trampled on; am sorry :( i mean you can tell she is scared but she aint gon take crap from him ALSO if you guys saw that I used this sukuna panel before, pls tell me tyyy

the room feels far too small with him in it, despite its towering ceilings and wide stone floors. his presence suffocates every inch of space, like the weight of a storm pressing down on you, demanding attention.

your hands tremble slightly as you pour tea into the lacquered cup, but you force them to steady. you’ve been doing this long enough to know better than to show fear, even if your pulse hammers in your throat.

the weight of sukuna’s gaze is heavy, as always, but you keep your eyes trained on the task, pretending not to notice the way he watches your every move, like a predator biding its time.

you place the tea in front of him, bowing respectfully.

yet the air between you shifts—his presence thick with something unfamiliar. you glance up, wary, only to find his eyes, crimson and sharp, still locked onto you.

that smile—the one that sends chills racing down your spine—curves his lips.

“you’re trembling again,” he says, his voice low, dark amusement coloring every word.

you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to breathe slowly, evenly.

“it’s cold, my lord,” you respond, as calmly as you can manage, though the lie feels feeble. everyone knows that with sukuna in the room, it’s never the cold you have to fear.

he leans forward slightly, one of his lower arms lazily resting on the table, the other two still folded across his broad chest. “is that so?” his voice is smooth, but there’s an edge to it that unsettles you more than his usual biting remarks.

you’ve heard the whispers, the rumors—how he’s been different lately, his focus shifted. and it’s not hard to guess where that focus lies.

you’ve felt the shift, too. the extra care given to your meals, the finery left in your chambers, and the subtle way he’s been keeping you close. too close.

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, nerves flaring. “I don’t mean to waste your time, my lord. if there’s nothing else, I should return to my duties.”

his chuckle fills the room, rich and deep, as though you’ve just said something absurdly amusing. “so eager to leave?” he asks, his voice low. “I’ve been generous, haven’t I?”

there’s something different in his tone now, something dangerous. your stomach knots as his gaze sharpens, studying you with unnerving intensity.

“my lord, I—” you stop yourself, choosing your words carefully. the last thing you want is to provoke him. “you’ve been more than kind. but I am still just a servant. I don’t require such attention.”

his smile widens, showing more of his sharp teeth, the predatory glint in his eyes growing darker. one of his upper hands moves, reaching out to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to meet his gaze head-on.

“just a servant?” he repeats, voice dripping with mockery. “you really think I would waste my time on someone who means nothing?”

you swallow hard, refusing to flinch under his touch. his hand is surprisingly gentle, but the power behind it is unmistakable. you force yourself to meet his eyes, despite every instinct screaming at you to look away.

“I—I…think I don’t know why you would waste your time on someone who isn’t afraid to speak her mind.”

his eyes flash with something dark and unreadable, but it isn’t anger. it’s interest. you can see the amusement flickering beneath the surface, and it sends another chill down your spine.

“you think you’re brave?” he muses, his voice lowering to a dark whisper. “or perhaps foolish?”

your breath hitches, his words unsettling. “I don’t think it’s foolish to speak honestly,” you reply, voice steadier than you feel. “especially when I’ve done nothing to earn the attention of someone like you.”

sukuna leans forward again, all four arms now resting on the arms of his throne as he stares you down. the air feels heavier, charged with something dangerous and electric.

his voice drops low, smooth as silk but with a dark edge. “you’ve earned it by surviving in my presence this long. by not running when you had the chance. that interests me.”

your heart races, the closeness unnerving, but you refuse to back down. “I’m here because it’s my duty,” you manage, your voice sharp and defiant. “not because I seek your favor or your… gifts.”

sukuna laughs then, the sound deep and rumbling, like distant thunder.

“ah, so you do notice my gifts. modest as they are.” he leans in closer, one of his lower hands brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “tell me, little servant, if it’s not favor you seek, what do you want?”

your stomach flips, the closeness sending a wave of heat through your cheeks, but you stand firm.

“I want to be left alone,” you reply bluntly, trying not to flinch under his gaze. “I want to do my duties without feeling like prey every time I enter the room.”

his eyes narrow slightly, a dangerous glint flashing in them, but there’s something else too. amusement. curiosity. he’s not angry—if anything, he seems more intrigued than before.

“you think you’re prey?” he muses, his voice lowering to a dark whisper. “perhaps you are. or perhaps, you’ve already caught the ‘predator’s’ attention in ways you don’t yet understand.”

his words sending a chill down your spine, but you stand firm. “If I have, it’s not by choice, sukuna-sama.”

his smile softens, just a fraction, but it’s no less menacing. he rises from his seat, towering over you as he closes the distance between you in a heartbeat.

his four hands move with calculated grace, two of them resting on either side of your face, trapping you in place as he looms over you.

“choice is an illusion for you humans,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “but you’ll come to understand that in time.”

despite the trembling in your limbs, you lift your chin, meeting his gaze with a newfound defiance. “I’m not afraid of you.”

he smirks, his eyes gleaming with approval at your boldness. “good. fear is boring.”

then, in a startlingly unexpected move, he leans down, brushing his lips against your forehead—an act of tenderness that catches you completely off guard.

the warmth of his breath lingers, and the moment stretches between you, almost surreal.

“besides,” he continues, voice low and surprisingly gentle, “I find your spirit rather… enticing.”

your heart races, confusion mingling with the fear that had gripped you moments before.

this man, this powerful being, was something else entirely, and as you step back, you can’t shake the strange warmth that blooms in your chest.

with that, he releases you, stepping back and letting the tension between you linger like smoke in the air.

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hoshifighting · 7 months ago

Text

Bodyguard

— Synopsis: During a trip defined by your father, you, in an act of provocation, choose Seungcheol to be your personal bodyguard. — WC: 8.8k — WARNINGS: Smut, reader makes Seungcheol do push ups in front of her, choking, "ma'am calling", squirting, mentions of gun, reader gives Seungcheol lots of filthy hints, pussy eating, fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex and etc.

You walk in your high-heeled shoes inside the basement, their echo reverberating through the dimly lit space. As you enter, you're greeted by a straight line of men, all dressed in black suits, their expressions solemn and focused. Their posture straightens as they catch sight of you, a clear indication of respect.

You stop by the side of your Dad, crossing your arms as you survey the group before you. "Sweetheart, those are the recruited soldiers recently," he informs you.

You tilt your head slightly, analyzing the men in front of you, before deciding to approach one. Your eyes land on a particular soldier, his black eyebrows thick and striking. Without hesitation, you walk towards him, your gaze sweeping from his feet to his head.

"What's your name, soldier?" you inquire, your tone firm but not unkind.

The soldier meets your gaze, his expression composed. "Seungcheol, Ma'am," he replies respectfully.

You nod, considering him for a moment before asking for his last name. "Choi, Choi Seungcheol, Ma'am," he responds promptly.

Curiosity piqued, you pressed further. "Have we met before?" you ask, searching his face for any sign of recognition.

The man shakes his head slightly. "No, Ma'am," he replies, his voice steady.

Lie.

You continue your line of questioning, wanting to learn more about this soldier who has caught your attention. "How old are you?" you inquire, noting the maturity in his features despite his youthful appearance.

"28, Ma'am," he answers without hesitation.

You consider him thoughtfully for a moment before nodding, acknowledging his response.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," you command, your voice firm and authoritative.

He promptly moves his gaze to meet yours, finding your cold expression unwavering.

"Which department were you placed in?" you inquire, your tone sharp and demanding.

"East patrol, Ma'am," he responds promptly, his voice steady despite the intensity of your scrutiny.

Nodding to your Dad, you signal for him to make a readjustment regarding the department of Soldier Choi.

Your Dad, slightly puzzled, asks, "Which department should I put him in, Sweetie?"

You tilt your head slightly, squeezing your eyes as you continue to analyze Soldier Choi. After a moment of consideration, you respond with a decisiveness that catches everyone off guard.

"My private security guard," you declare, your tone leaving no room for argument.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he struggles to suppress the urge to gag. The soldiers standing beside him also try their best to conceal their reactions, but the shock is evident on their faces.

You need to contain the bubbles in your chest, which wants to make you laugh in his face.

You and Seungcheol hated each other.

Everyone at the agency knew about this tea, apparently, only your father didn't know.

You give them a last look, and they bow respectfully before you turn to Soldier Choi. "Meet me in two hours," you command, your voice leaving no room for negotiation. "In the storage room on the fourth floor," you add, glancing at your wristwatch, noting the time.

Soldier Choi nods in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as he absorbs your instructions.

"With packed suitcases," you continue, your tone leaving no room for questions, "We are going to Japan."

With that final directive, you turn on your heel and stride purposefully out of the basement, leaving behind the line of soldiers and the curious glances that follow you.

You couldn't shake the bitter taste in your mouth as the name Choi Seungcheol echoed in your mind. Years of working with the FBI had honed your instincts for identifying potential threats, and Seungcheol's sudden appearance in your life triggered a flood of memories.

Training years ago had brought you face to face with him, your Dad decided that he wanted you to follow his lineage, two young adults embarking on a journey into the world of espionage. You had formed a light camaraderie with him, feeling a connection that bordered on friendship.

But everything changed when Seungcheol made the fateful decision to follow the path of another spy agency. It felt like a betrayal, a sharp sting that left a lingering bitterness in its wake.

And when he came back to your Dad agency, because the other agency simply rejected the bunch of young men at their door, you couldn't forgive him.

Japan, 8h34 p.m.

You sit back in the plush armchair of the hotel room, arms crossed casually over your chest as you watch Seungcheol sweat it out with a series of push-ups. His muscles flex with each repetition, a testament to his dedication to maintaining his physical prowess.

"Are you tired yet?" you quip, a playful glint in your eyes as you observe his exertion.

Seungcheol pauses briefly to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling with each heavy inhale. "No, ma'am," he responds between breaths, determination etched into his features.

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his resilience. "Are you going to give up anytime soon?" you tease, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

He grits his teeth and resumes his push-ups, a low groan escaping him as he pushes himself to continue. "No, ma'am," he grunts, his voice strained with effort.

You chuckle softly, finding amusement in his unwavering determination. "Well, don't strain yourself too much," you jest, leaning back further into the comfort of the armchair. "Wouldn't want you collapsing from exhaustion before our next mission, now would we?"

Seungcheol shoots you a playful glare, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips despite his physical exertion. "Not a chance, ma'am," he retorts, his resolve unshaken.

As Seungcheol's arms tremble with exhaustion, you can't help but savor the view of his determination. Despite the strain evident in every muscle, he continues to push himself beyond his limits. It surprises you just how strong he still is, a testament to his resilience and unwavering dedication.

"Still going, huh?" you remark, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you watch him struggle through each push-up.

Seungcheol's breaths come out in heavy pants, his movements slowing as fatigue sets in. "Can't... give up..." he manages to groan out between labored breaths.

You chuckle softly, impressed by his tenacity. "Oh, I see," you tease, leaning forward slightly to get a closer look at his struggling form. "I guess I'll have to find someone else to carry me around then."

His response is a strained grunt as he forces himself to push through another repetition. The effort is evident on his face, and you can't help but admire his determination, even as his movements become slower and more difficult.

You can't help but tease him further, enjoying the sight of his struggle. "Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you taunt, feigning sympathy. "You're looking a bit shaky there. Don't tell me you're starting to feel your age."

With great difficulty, Seungcheol manages to retort, his voice strained but determined, "You're...in the same age...as me."

Touché.

Your smile falters for a moment, caught off guard by his response. Despite the playful banter, his words hit home, a reminder of the passage of time and the challenges that come with it.

"Alright, that's enough," you concede, your tone softening as you watch him collapse onto the ground, panting heavily, his arms sore from the exertion.

As you approach him, Seungcheol sits on his knees, catching his breath, his gaze fixed on the ground.

"Choi Seungcheol..." you say slowly, drawing out each syllable as you watch his reaction closely.

He meets your gaze with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, wondering what you have up your sleeve.

"You thought you could hide from me, didn't you?" you continue, your voice laced with amusement as you lean in closer, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

He shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he schools his expression into one of mock innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ma'am," he replies smoothly, though there's a hint of tension in his voice.

You chuckle softly, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease him. "Oh, please," you retort, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "You can't hide from me, Seungcheol. I always find my targets, no matter how hard they try to evade me."

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "You just love to make my life difficult, don't you?" he quips, in feigned annoyance.

"Wouldn't be much fun otherwise, now would it?" you reply with a grin, leaning back in your seat as you revel in the banter between you.

You grab Seungcheol's chin roughly, forcing him to meet your gaze as you shake his face slightly. "How pretty," you remark, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. "Wanting to work with me again, hmm? I bet you've missed me, haven't you?"

His jaw tenses under your grip, but he maintains his composure, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of defiance and apprehension.

Releasing him abruptly, you let him stumble backward slightly before continuing. "Well, since you seem so eager to work with me again," you say, your voice dripping with disdain, "you better act like the good bodyguard they recruited you to be. Or else..."

Seungcheol arches an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his expression as he waits for you to elaborate.

You lean in closer, your voice low and menacing. "Or else," you continue, "the feedback about your image within the FBI will be ruined. You wouldn't want that, now would you?"

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Seungcheol's features at the mention of his reputation being tarnished within the agency. Despite the facade of confidence he wears, you can see the doubt creeping into his eyes as he weighs the consequences of defying you.

With a satisfied smirk, you straighten up, knowing that you've effectively reminded him of the stakes at hand.

"Now come on," you say, your tone lightening as you change the subject, "I'm craving the pasta from the restaurant down the street."

Seungcheol gets up slowly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features as he adjusts the gun at his hip. He follows you begrudgingly, his expression revealing his dissatisfaction with your little revelation.

You sit across from Seungcheol at the restaurant, the aroma of freshly cooked pasta filling the air. But instead of digging into his meal, he sits with his arms crossed and a bratty expression on his face, his untouched food growing cold in front of him.

You can't help but coo at him teasingly, your voice dripping with mock concern. "What's the matter, Seungcheol? Not hungry?"

He hears you, but refuses to meet your gaze, instead opting to scoff and look away, his stubbornness evident in every line of his body.

You lean forward slightly, your playful demeanor not faltering in the face of his resistance. "Come on," you cajole, reaching across the table to nudge his plate closer to him, "don't be like that. You'll regret it if you let this delicious food go to waste."

But Seungcheol remains unmoved, his bratty facade firmly in place as he continues to sulk in silence. During dinner, you convinced him to eat the meal in front of you, after much insistence.

As you walk in the direction of the elevator, a mischievous glint sparkles in your eyes as you suppress a smile, preparing for the best theater of your life. With a dramatic flair, you pretend to stumble, a hand flying to your forehead as if you're about to faint.

Seungcheol reacts immediately, his reflexes kicking in as he reaches out to steady you, his strong arms wrapping around you to prevent you from falling. You suppress another laugh at his quick response, marveling at the effectiveness of your little performance.

"Oh!" you exclaim, feigning distress. "I suddenly feel terrible. These heels are killing me."

Without missing a beat, he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style as he heads towards the elevator.

You tease, unable to resist the opportunity to poke fun at Seungcheol's expense. "Wow," you remark with exaggerated admiration, "even after millions of push-ups, you can still carry me around like it's nothing. Oh! Seungcheol, you're so strong."

He lets out a slight blush, rolling his eyes at your playful comment. "If you say one more word," he warns, his tone tinged with mock irritation, "I'm going to let you fall."

You smirk in response, unfazed by his threat. "Sorry, Seungcheol," you retort teasingly, "but it's not you who gives the orders around here."

With a playful twinkle in your eye, you lean back comfortably in his arms, reveling in the banter between the two of you.

After a leisurely soak, you emerge from the bathroom feeling rejuvenated, a soft towel wrapped snugly around your body. With a contented sigh, you begin to apply cream to your arms, the familiar routine calming your mind as you focus on the simple task at hand.

But as you turn towards the bed, you can't help but burst into laughter at the sight that greets you. Seungcheol is sprawled out on his bed, his face buried in the pillow and his back turned to you, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

You shake your head in amusement, unable to resist the urge to tease him. "Looks like someone had a long day," you quip, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.

Seungcheol stirs at the sound of your voice, turning his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder. "Oh, please," he mumbles groggily, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Don't remind me."

Your phone rings suddenly, shattering the peaceful atmosphere of the hotel room. With a quick glance at the caller ID, you see that it's your father on the line. Without hesitation, you answer, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice as you listen to his instructions.

"Dad?" you say, your tone tense with anticipation.

His voice crackles over the line, his words coming in fast and urgent. "I need all the bodyguards down at the hotel right now," he announces, the seriousness of his tone leaving no room for argument.

You end the call, your mind already racing with possibilities as you turn to face Seungcheol, who is still lying on the bed, his face buried in the pillow.

"Well, Seungcheol," you say with a wry smile, "it looks like it's not the best time for you to catch up on your beauty sleep."

He lets out a soft whimper, throwing the pillow away and scrambling to his feet. Rushing to put on his suit.

As Seungcheol opens the door to leave, his hand hovering over the handle, he pauses and turns to you with a commanding tone. "Don't. Leave. The. Bedroom," he orders, his voice firm and authoritative.

You can't help but laugh at his seriousness, a playful glint in your eye as you tease him. "Aren't you forgetting something?" you ask innocently, raising an eyebrow.

He raises his gaze, and his eyes widen as he realizes that you're still standing there in your towel, holding his gun in your hand. With a sigh of exasperation, he closes his eyes briefly, his frustration evident.

"Oh my god, get dressed," he mutters, extending his hand to retrieve the gun from you.

You can't resist teasing him further, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "What's the matter, Seungcheol?" you tease, waving the gun teasingly. "Afraid of a woman only wearing a towel?"

He grunts in response, his cheeks flushing slightly as he takes the gun from you. "Just... don't leave the room," he repeats, his tone slightly exasperated, before abruptly closing the door behind him.

You had made a split-second decision to disobey Seungcheol's orders and follow your father's soldiers, the urgency of the situation outweighing any concern for staying put. Now, you find yourself in the midst of the action, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you navigate the streets, your senses on high alert.

Spotting Seungcheol in a corner of the alley, you can't resist the opportunity to tease him. Sneaking up behind him, you lean in close to his ear and whisper, "Boo." you murmur teasingly, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Fancy meeting you in a dark alley like this. Are you up to no good again?"

Before he can respond, Seungcheol reacts with lightning-fast reflexes, pushing you against the nearest wall with surprising force. Your arms are pinned behind your back, your face pressed uncomfortably against the rough bricks, as he restrains you with an iron grip.

Wide-eyed, Seungcheol freezes as he realizes his mistake. "Y/N?" he exclaims, his voice laced with disbelief as he spins you around to face him.

In that moment, the realization dawns on him, and his expression morphs into one of sheer horror. He's just smashed the daughter of his boss's face into the bricks, mistaking you for a suspect in the chaos of the moment.

Seungcheol turns you around, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration as he finds you with a sly smile on your face. Before he can say anything, you tease him, your words dripping with mischief.

"If you can handle me that roughly, too-" you quip, your voice muffled by his hand as he clamps it over your mouth, cutting off your words.

"Shut up," he hisses, his tone urgent as he scans the alley for any signs of danger. "What are you doing here?"

You remove his hand from your mouth with a playful smirk, unable to resist teasing him even in the midst of the tense situation. "Oh, just thought I'd see if you could handle a little rough handling," you quip, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, his patience wearing thin as he struggles to keep his composure. "This is no time for jokes, Y/N," he scolds, his voice tight with exasperation. "You could have gotten hurt."

Seungcheol's frustration is palpable as he glares at you, his voice tinged with annoyance. "I told you to stay in your damn room," he says through gritted teeth, his eyes scanning the alley for any signs of danger.

You can't help but laugh at his exasperation, finding amusement in his frustration despite the seriousness of the situation. With a teasing glint in your eye, you retort playfully, "Oops, looks like I missed the memo. But where's the fun in following orders, Seungcheol?"

His jaw clenches in frustration at your nonchalant attitude, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as well. Despite his annoyance, he can't help but appreciate your daring spirit and the playful banter between the two of you.

"Stubborn as ever," he mutters under his breath, though there's a hint of fondness in his tone as he shakes his head at your antics. "Just… stay close."

You cross your arms, watching as Seungcheol patrols the area with a vigilant eye. The tension in the air is palpable as you wait for any sign of trouble, knowing that the safety of your father's operation depends on the diligence of every member of the team.

As your dad's voice crackles over the radio, announcing the end of the patrol, Seungcheol holsters his gun at his hips once again. He turns to you with a stern expression, his eyes narrowed in admonition.

"Come on," he says briskly, gesturing for you to follow him. "You could've gotten me into some serious trouble if your dad found out you weren't in bed."

As you walk back towards the hotel with Seungcheol, you can't resist teasing him about the earlier incident in the alley.

"If my dad finds out you manhandled me in that alley," you retort with a smirk, "you'll be in some serious trouble."

Seungcheol turns around, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern as he quickly shushes you. "Sorry, okay?" he says, his voice hushed but earnest. "I thought you were a suspect."

You can't help but chuckle at his apology, enjoying the way he squirms under your playful teasing. "Oh, I'm sure you did," you reply, a mischievous glint in your eye. "But you know, Seungcheol, I kind of like it when things start to get rough. Are you this rough in bed too?"

Seungcheol's eyes widen in shock at your bold remark, his cheeks flushing slightly as he turns around abruptly, continuing to walk towards the hotel without another word, his eyes darting around to make sure no one overhears.

[...]

The next day, Seungcheol's sole function seemed to revolve around being around you, and you found yourself enjoying his presence more than you anticipated.

While the other bodyguards were out on a mission, Seungcheol had taken it upon himself to ensure your day was filled with activities. You had gone for a refreshing run in the park in the morning, followed by a leisurely shopping excursion in the afternoon.

Now, as you laid in the hotel bedroom, meticulously painting your nails, Seungcheol observed you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. He rolled his eyes as you swung your feet back and forth while focusing on your manicure.

"Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you cooed teasingly, glancing up at him with a playful grin. "You'd rather be in the midst of a mission, fighting off bad guys, than having a relaxing day with me? I saved you from an exhausting day out there!"

Seungcheol sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his efforts to appear unaffected by your teasing. "I never said I preferred being in the middle of a fight," he admitted, his tone teasing yet genuine. "But sometimes your idea of a 'relaxing day' is a little... unconventional."

"Oh, right, because fighting with guns and shit is way more cool," you quip, your focus still on your nails as you glance at Seungcheol with a playful smirk.

Seungcheol lets out a chuckle at your remark, unable to hide the amusement in his eyes. "Well, I can't argue with that," he replies, his tone light and teasing. "But there's something to be said about the thrill of a good Yves Saint-Laurent high heels.."

You roll your eyes playfully at his response, shaking your head as you continue painting your nails. "I'll take a relaxing day over dodging bullets any time," you retort with a grin, enjoying the banter between you.

Seungcheol lets out a scoff at your comment, but his expression softens as he watches your hair fall loose from your bun, knowing it's bothering you as you try to focus on your manicure.

Without hesitation, he gets up from his seat and moves behind you, his hands deftly gathering your hair into a ponytail. You can feel the warmth of his touch as he gently ties it back, securing it in place with practiced ease.

"Thanks," you murmur, grateful for his assistance as you return your attention to your nails.

Seungcheol chuckles softly, his fingers lingering for a moment longer before he steps back, his task complete. "There you go," he says with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. "Now you can finish your masterpiece without any distractions."

You grin at his playful remark, unable to resist teasing him in return. "Who knew my personal bodyguard was also a hairstylist?" you quip, your tone filled with mock surprise. "Maybe I should start charging extra for your services."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes at your teasing, but there's a hint of amusement in his gaze as he settles back into his seat. Despite the lighthearted banter, you can't help but appreciate his thoughtfulness and willingness to lend a helping hand, even in the most unexpected of situations.

After finishing your manicure, you eagerly show your hands to Seungcheol, a playful grin on your face as you ask for his opinion.

"What do you think?" you inquire, wiggling your fingers for emphasis.

Seungcheol inspects your nails with a critical eye before shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't like red," he remarks casually.

You can't help but raise an eyebrow in disbelief. "What?!" you exclaim, mock indignation coloring your tone. "But I distinctly remember you saying red was your favorite color!"

The smile that Seungcheol had been suppressing finally breaks free, transforming into a hearty laugh at your feigned outrage. "Alright, alright," he concedes between chuckles. "I guess I'll make an exception for your nails."

"You should," you retort with a playful glint in your eye, enjoying the banter.

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, so my opinion is important now?" he teases, his tone laced with amusement.

You nod, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. "Yes, it is," you reply, your voice tinged with mock seriousness. "Because these red nails are going to be on your back tonight."

His eyes widen in surprise at your bold declaration, and you can see the shift in his posture as he processes your words. "Uh..." he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly as he clears his throat. "Maybe we should stick to talking about nail polish and colors-"

You shoot Seungcheol a playful smirk, enjoying the way his cheeks still hold a hint of color from your earlier comment. "Not feeling so bold anymore, huh?" you tease, nudging him gently with your elbow.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but there's a spark of amusement in his gaze as he meets your playful challenge. "Hey, I can be bold when I need to be," he retorts with a grin, his confidence returning as he meets your gaze head-on.

You chuckle at his response, appreciating the way he's able to bounce back from your teasing with equal parts wit and charm. "Oh, I have no doubt about that," you reply, unable to hide the fondness in your tone.

You watch as Seungcheol leans in closer, his expression curious as he questions your sudden change in behavior. Tilting your head in confusion, you furrow your brow as you meet his gaze.

"Why did you suddenly choose me to be your bodyguard?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. "You used to hate me, and now you're even flirting with me."

You can't help but laugh at his incredulous tone, finding amusement in his confusion. "Isn't it funny how things change?" you reply with a playful grin. "Besides, it's quite entertaining having you do everything I ask."

Seungcheol scoffs at your response, clearly still puzzled by your sudden shift in attitude. "Flirting with me doesn't make any sense," he insists, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You simply shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, I don't know," you reply casually. "Angry sex is way better when you're doing it with someone you hate."

You glance at him through your lashes, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you watch his reaction. Seungcheol's mouth goes dry, and you can see him squirming uncomfortably in his seat, clearly taken aback by your boldness.

"Cat got your tongue?" you tease, leaning in closer to him.

Seungcheol shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his expression torn between desire and restraint. "We can't do that," he finally manages to say, his voice strained as he wrestles with his own demons.

You bite your lip, unable to resist the urge to push him further. "And why is that?" you press, your voice low and seductive.

Seungcheol hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and the floor as he struggles to find the right words. "It's unprofessional," he finally murmurs, his tone tinged with regret.

You can't help but chuckle at his response, finding amusement in his attempt to maintain his composure. "Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you tease, reaching out to brush your fingers against his cheek.

His eyes darken at your touch, and you can see the internal battle raging within him. "This isn't the time or place," he insists, his voice strained.

You bite your lip, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you lean in closer to him. "But if it wasn't because of that," you murmur softly, your breath ghosting over his lips, "would you fuck me?"

Seungcheol inhales sharply at your bold question, his resolve crumbling in the face of your undeniable allure. For a moment, he's silent, his eyes locked with yours in a silent exchange of longing and desire.

So he abruptly gets up and heads to the bathroom, you watch him go with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. Leaning back on the bed, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you revel in the realization that Seungcheol isn't entirely immune to your charms.

Finally allowing yourself to relax, you let out a soft sigh, feeling a sense of victory wash over you. Despite his attempts to maintain a professional demeanor, you can't help but notice the way he reacted to your teasing, the flicker of desire in his eyes betraying his attempts to resist your allure.

[...]

As Seungcheol stirred from his sleep, a sense of concern gnawed at him, prompting him to glance over at your bed. He looked once, relieved to see you there, but when he looked again, you were gone. Panic surged through him as he quickly scanned the room, his heart racing as he realized you were nowhere to be found.

With a curse under his breath, Seungcheol threw off the covers and sprung out of bed, his mind racing with worry. He searched every corner of the bedroom, his movements frantic as he called out your name in a hushed voice, hoping against hope that you would respond.

But there was no sign of you, and Seungcheol's frustration boiled over as he cursed under his breath, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a lead weight. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "This girl always manages to get me into trouble."

As you made your way to the rooftop pool, a mischievous grin played on your lips. You weren't actually in need of a breather; rather, you saw it as the perfect opportunity to play a little game with Seungcheol, to remind him of the importance of staying vigilant in his role as your bodyguard.

Settling into a lounge chair by the pool, you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself as you imagined the look on Seungcheol's face when he realized you were nowhere to be found in the room. It was all in good fun, after all, and you were certain he would appreciate the lesson in staying alert.

Suddenly, you felt hands wrap around your waist, and you were swiftly turned around to face Seungcheol, who looked both relieved and exasperated. "Are you crazy?" he exclaimed, his voice edged with frustration as he took in the rooftop's empty expanse, save for the two of you.

You couldn't help but maintain your composed demeanor, a smirk dancing on your lips as you met his gaze. "Seems like you found me," you remarked casually, teasingly raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Seungcheol's frustration boiled over at your nonchalant response, and you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "You think this is funny?" he demanded, his voice tinged with irritation as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Seungcheol's frustration was palpable as he confronted you, his voice edged with exasperation. "You could have chosen anyone, why me?" he demanded, his tone tinged with a hint of desperation. "You're so hard to handle! Did you know that?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his words, finding amusement in his exasperated state. Sliding your hand across his cheek in a teasing gesture, you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eye.

"Why not you?" you countered with a smirk, your tone teasing as you brushed off his question. "After all, who else would be able to handle someone as difficult as me?"

Seungcheol's reaction was immediate, brushing your hand away with abruptness as if your touch had burned him. His frustration boiled over as he demanded to know what game you were playing, his voice tinged with a mix of irritation and confusion.

His eyes blazed with rage as he leaned in closer, his frustration evident in every line of his face. "What the fuck do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger as he searched your face for answers.

You met his gaze head-on, your expression unreadable as you replied calmly, "I just needed some fun."

His eyes narrowed even further, his frustration boiling over as he leaned closer to you. "Your idea of fun is putting my serious job at risk," he spat out, his voice trembling with pent-up rage. "And let me tell you, it's not fucking fun for me."

Undeterred by his anger, you leaned in even closer, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "You mad?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you egged him on.

Seungcheol wraps his hand around your neck, his hand pressing you against the border of the building, his rage palpable in every movement. "Listen to me," he growled, his voice low and menacing as he struggled to maintain his composure. "You need to start taking this seriously. You're not just playing games with me—you're putting yourself in danger."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." he replied sharply. "Because if everything goes wrong, you're still going to be the boss's daughter, and I'm going to be dead."

Your expression darkened at his words, a frown forming on your lips as you felt his hand tightening around your neck. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the intensity of his grip, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

But instead of backing down, you met his gaze with defiance, refusing to let him intimidate you. "I wouldn't let them do that to you," you declared boldly, your voice tinged with determination.

"I wouldn't let them touch you," you continued, your voice low and husky, each word dripping with determination. "Not before I—" you paused, the sensation of Seungcheol's body pressed against yours and his hand tightening around your neck sending shivers down your spine. "—not before I fuck you," you finally breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear.

A sudden moan escaped your lips as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed you, the rush of adrenaline heightening your senses and fueling the fire that burned between you and Seungcheol.

He widened his eyes in surprise at your unexpected reaction, clearly taken aback by your excitement in the midst of the tense situation. "What—" he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to comprehend your response.

You smirked, a wicked gleam in your eye as you leaned back slightly, your gaze locking with his as you reveled in the raw intensity of the moment. "What, you didn't expect me to enjoy this?" you teased, your voice dripping with amusement as you watched his expression darken with desire.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal coursing through you, the electric tension between you and Seungcheol igniting a primal urge that refused to be ignored.

Seungcheol's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of surprise and desire flickering in their depths as he struggled to process your bold declaration. "You... you're serious?" he asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, finding amusement in his stunned expression. "Dead serious," you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief as you leaned in closer, the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Seungcheol's lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Then what are you waiting for?"

As you and Seungcheol moved with urgency and desire, your kiss deepening with each step, the tension between you reached its peak. From the rooftop to the hotel hallways, the elevator serving as a brief respite before you continued your passionate embrace, the heat between you only intensified.

Finally, as you reached the hotel room, Seungcheol threw you onto the bed, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, your heart racing with excitement as you met his hungry gaze. With a playful smirk, you propped yourself up on your elbows, reveling in the desire that burned in his eyes.

But as his gaze traveled over your figure, lingering on the delicate camisole that barely covered your curves, a flicker of disapproval crossed his face. "You walked around the hotel like this?" he muttered.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down your spine as you teased, "Don't like it? Then take it off."

The challenge in your words was unmistakable, and you watched with anticipation as Seungcheol's desire flared, his hands moving to grasp the sides of the camisole. With a swift motion, he ripped the delicate fabric down the middle, exposing your bare breasts and lacy panties to his hungry gaze.

You gasped at the suddenness of his action, a thrill coursing through you at the raw desire burning in his eyes. "Seungcheol," you moaned, your voice husky.

As Seungcheol's lips trailed along your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses, bites, and licks in their wake, you couldn't help but squirm beneath him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. His fingers toyed with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making you moan with delight.

"It's so difficult to hold myself back around you," he confessed, his voice husky with desire as he continued to lavish attention on your sensitive skin.

Your breath hitched at his admission, a surge of arousal coursing through you at the raw honesty in his words. Feeling your arousal pooling between your legs, you moaned softly, unable to contain the overwhelming sensations that consumed you.

Unable to resist any longer, you whispered, "Finally, you admitted it,"

Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk as he felt your body respond to his touch, reveling in the intoxicating mix of desire and arousal that filled the room. "Oh, so you were waiting for me to admit it, huh?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement as he continued to explore every inch of your skin with his lips and hands. "Well, now that I've admitted it, what do you plan to do about it?"

With a smirk of your own, you whispered, "I plan to make sure you don't hold back anymore," your voice dripping with desire as you pulled him closer.

As Seungcheol's hand ventured lower, his fingers slipping beneath the delicate fabric of your lacy panties, you couldn't help but inhale sharply, your breath catching in your throat at the sudden contact. A surge of electricity shot through you as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, the sensation causing you to jolt in pleasure.

He chuckled softly at your reaction, his lips pressing gentle pecks along your jawline as he continued to explore your arousal. His eyes locked with yours, a mischievous glint dancing in their depths as he teased you with his touch.

With a deliberate slowness, he slid his fingers deeper, exploring the wet heat between your thighs. As his digits entered you, you couldn't suppress the loud moan that escaped your lips, your mouth falling open in ecstasy as pleasure surged through your body.

As Seungcheol's fingers pumped in and out of you, you found yourself overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body. The sound of your wetness mingled with the filthy sounds of his fingers plunging into you, filling the air with the heady scent of arousal.

With your vision blurred by pleasure, your hands fumbled with the buttons of Seungcheol's shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling suffocating against your skin. You needed him closer, his bare chest pressed against yours as his fingers plugged deeper in your cunt.

As you struggled to undo the buttons, your fingers clumsy with desire, you let out a shaky moan, the sound a symphony of your arousal filling the room. "Seungcheol," you gasped, your voice thick with need as you tugged at his shirt, desperate for him to be as exposed and vulnerable as you were in that moment.

A shaky moan escaped your lips as Seungcheol's fingers found your sweet spot, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through you. Your body trembled under his touch, the pleasure building to dizzying heights as you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin against yours.

Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk as he watched you struggle with the buttons of his shirt, the desire burning in his eyes mirroring your own. "Having a little trouble there, sweetheart?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful arrogance as he continued to pleasure you with his skilled fingers.

You let out a frustrated groan, the need for him overwhelming your senses as his touch drove you closer to the edge of ecstasy. "Just shut up and help me," you demanded, your words laced with a hint of desperation as you tugged at his shirt, your fingers trembling with anticipation.

With a low chuckle, Seungcheol obliged, quickly undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt before tossing it aside, his toned chest revealed in all its glory. "Better?" he asked, his voice husky with desire as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a searing kiss.

"Much better…"

Seungcheol wasted no time in pulling your panties down, his eyes fixed on yours as he spread your legs apart. You squirmed beneath him, craving his touch as he caressed your inner thighs.

Rolling your hips in search of more, you let out a needy whine, biting your lip in anticipation. Every fiber of your being was aflame with desire, and you couldn't wait for him to give you what you needed.

As Seungcheol's warm tongue made contact with your wet folds, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch your back and scream his name in ecstasy. His smile against your pussy only added to the sensation.

His strong arms held your hips firmly against the mattress, preventing you from squirming away as his tongue worked its magic. Each flick of his tongue against your sensitive bud sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you unable to do anything but moan incoherently.

"God, yes," you mumbled, your eyes rolling back in your head as he continued to suck and lick you with increasing fervor. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming, and you found yourself lost in the bliss of the moment, completely at the mercy of his skilled touch.

As he teased and tantalized you with his tongue, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release. With each flick and suck, he pushed you further towards the brink, until finally, with a loud cry of pleasure, you tumbled over the edge, your body shaking with the force of your climax.

Seungcheol continued to lap at your wetness, prolonging your pleasure until you were completely spent, you cried out in ecstasy, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Gripping his hair tightly, you pulled him closer, eliciting a low moan from him as your actions only fueled his own desire.

Your legs trembled uncontrollably as the intensity of the sensation threatened to overwhelm you, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of another climax. With each flick of his tongue, the pleasure intensified, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you in relentless waves.

But, Seungcheol got up, leaving you whining with need, you couldn't help but watch in anticipation as he removed his shorts and underwear. His mouth and chin glistened with your arousal, evidence of the pleasure he had just given you, while his big pink cock stood proudly, already wet with precum.

Taking a moment to appreciate the sight before you, you let your eyes roam over the lines of his abs, the bulging muscles of his arms, and the strong, muscular thighs that spoke volumes of his training and dedication. He was every inch the epitome of strength and masculinity, and the sight of him standing before you left you breathless.

With a teasing grin, you commented on his impressive physique, "Fuck, you're so hot." causing his cock to twitch in response and his cheeks to flush with arousal. You knew the effect your words had on him, and you reveled in the power you held over him in that moment.

As you almost jumped on him, eagerly positioning yourself on top, you wasted no time in reaching for his throbbing cock, your hand wrapping around it firmly. Seungcheol let out a sharp hiss in your ear, the sound sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

With a wicked grin, you began to stroke him slowly, teasingly, relishing the way his breath hitched in response to your touch. Seungcheol's grip tightened on your hips as he struggled to maintain control, his arousal evident in every gasp and moan that escaped his lips. "God, yes, Ma'am." he groaned, his voice thick with desire as he surrendered himself completely to the pleasure of your touch.

Your movements grew more urgent, more insistent, as you stroked him faster and harder, your own arousal building with each passing moment. "You're so fucking hard for me," you whispered, your breath hot against his skin as you continued to pleasure him with skilled hands.

Seungcheol stopped your movements abruptly, grabbing both of your hands and pressing them firmly against the top of your head as he held you in place. A sly smile played on your lips as his cock tapped against your eager pussy, causing you to squirm with anticipation, desperate to feel him inside you.

"Please," you pleaded, your voice filled with longing as you begged for him to fill you completely.

Seungcheol's grin widened as he teased you, drawing out the anticipation until you were practically begging for release.

You waited with bated breath as he slowly began to thrust himself inside you, savoring every inch of his cock as it filled you completely.

With each movement, you could feel him stretching you, filling you in a way that left you breathless with desire. Every vein, every contour of his cock sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity.

You moaned softly as he buried himself deep inside you, your walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to hold him close.

As Seungcheol finally entered you completely, his pelvis pressed tightly against yours, a wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel every inch of him buried deep inside you, his cock curved perfectly to hit your g'spot with each movement.

With a soft moan, you arched your back, pressing your body closer to his as you reveled in the sensation of being filled so completely. Your hands were tied in his, holding on tightly as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment.

Seungcheol moaned in response, the tightness of your grip and the warmth of your wetness driving him to the brink of madness.

Seungcheol teased you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he remarked, "You've been wanting this since the beginning of this trip, haven't you?"

You scoffed playfully, shaking your head as you countered, "You're wrong. I've wanted this since our training days."

His grin widened at your confession, and without missing a beat, he thrust deeper inside you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he relished the feeling of you tightening around him.

You nodded eagerly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment. "Yes," you moaned, your words barely audible as you lost yourself in the sensation of being filled so completely by him.

As you warned Seungcheol that you were about to cum, he swiftly turned you onto your chest, pressing your upper body onto the bed while lifting your ass up. With a primal instinct, he thrust his cock back inside you, eliciting cries of pleasure from your lips.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you whimpered, the sensation in your stomach growing so intense that you knew there was no turning back. And when his hand began to draw perfect circles on your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a loud scream, you felt yourself climaxing, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm as you squirted all over him and the bed, coating your thighs and his in your ecstasy. Seungcheol's jaw went slack at the sight and sensation, his own arousal reaching new heights as he watched how incredibly horny he had made you.

Seungcheol's breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "I'm not done with you yet."

Your body trembled in oversensitivity, the waves of pleasure still rippling through you from your earlier climax. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper as you pleaded with him to give you a moment to recover.

But Seungcheol had other plans, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he began to thrust into you once again, his cock driving deep inside you with each powerful movement. You gasped in surprise, the intensity of the sensation overwhelming as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.

"Fuck," you moaned, your words barely coherent as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with sensation as Seungcheol pushed you to the brink of ecstasy once again. "Seungcheol, w-wait,"

As the slickness of your arousal connected your bodies, the sounds emanating from your wet pussy echoed in the bedroom, filling the air with the intoxicating symphony of your passion. Seungcheol closed his eyes, throwing his head back in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation.

Your pussy was so wet, so tight around him, that every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He could feel the creamy ring of your arousal coating his cock, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with each thrust.

But you were too much, your insatiable desire for him driving him to new heights of pleasure. As your pussy throbbed tight around him, merciless in its grip, he couldn't help but surrender himself completely to the overwhelming sensation.

As Seungcheol continued to thrust into you, he spoke to you in a low, husky voice, urging you on to another orgasm. "That's it, Ma'am," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to drive you wild with desire. "I want to feel you cum for me again."

You tensed under him, the sensation of his words sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Your body responded instinctively to his touch, every nerve ending alive with anticipation as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment.

And then, with a final cry of ecstasy, you let go, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Your pussy clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth as you rode the wave of pleasure until it consumed you completely.

Seungcheol rolled his hips, his eyes squeezed shut as he savored the feeling of your cunt wrapping tightly around him. It was deliciously intense, and he relished in the sensation of being completely engulfed by you. With each movement, he felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him—it was his, and his alone.

As he neared the edge, he couldn't hold back any longer. With a low groan of pleasure, he released himself inside you, his hot cum painting your walls white. He held onto your ass tightly in his hands, anchoring himself to you as he rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Lost in the moment, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reveled in the intensity of the pleasure coursing through his body.

As Seungcheol lay there, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, you couldn't resist teasing him a little.

"Look at you," you purred, tracing a finger lightly along his chest. "All worn out already?"

Seungcheol cracked open one eye, giving you a playful glare. "I could say the same about you," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. "Oh, but I'm never too tired for round two," you teased, winking at him.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Is that a challenge?"

You grinned, leaning in closer. "Maybe," you replied, your voice dripping with mischief. "But you'll have to catch your breath first."

Seungcheol chuckled, pulling you closer to him. "Challenge accepted," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss.

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hoshigray · 11 months ago

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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! receiving) - ball-massaging - face + throat-fucking - praise - pet names (baby, cutie, mama, sweet thing) - implied that reader has given oral prior - first-time Toji finding enjoyment in receiving oral - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of spit.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: "Toji has never really enjoyed oral. At least, not until Y/n went down on them for the first time…"

I was playing with NSFW prompts for the first time, and this was literally the first one it gave me…genius. (¬‿¬) guess kinda a switch-up from this oldie i did~ hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's, accept this as my welcome back present, hehe~ also tysm for 4.6k, hello????

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

“…Hey, Toji?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“…Can I…..give you a blowjob?”

Up until this point, Toji was never one to be given oral from anyone.

Giving oral isn’t a problem. But receiving it from someone else? That’s another thing. Call it his personal preference or years of sexual experience, but the older man never actually found pleasure in it. It could be from the many inexperienced minxs he’s had to get his dick wet, whose frequent teeth and bites sabotaged the mood for him. Or probably from the others who just really didn’t appear to know what they were doing — again, ruining the mood. Or the fact that most of the time, as mentioned, he finds himself satisfying his partner at the time more than himself.

Not that he minds at all; no, no. He finds great satisfaction in going in between someone’s legs and getting them turned on from his work. But when it comes to the thought of having his dick sucked, it’s a hard pass. Respectfully.

Which brings us to the present: him on the couch with an arm wrapped behind your shoulders, bringing you close to him as you watch television comfortably. The ceiling lights dimmed to a warm low glow, your head draped on his shoulder as his hand rubs comforting circles on yours, and the silence only filled with the voices coming from the TV isn’t awkward in the presence of you two. Why would it be? He’s with you, his little sweet thing. And that’s all he wants right now.

So, after all the fidgeting with your thumbs and the occasion glances at him (which he noticed, of course), it was apparent that you’d soon ask him something out of the blue. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that question.

“Pfft, that’s random,” he scoffs at the sudden question, and more subtle chuckles resort from the bashful turn of your head. God, you were so cute. “Why ask, sweet thing?”

“I was…just wondering, you know?” Your eyes travel down to your twiddling thumbs, avoiding Toji’s deep, observant emerald gaze. “We’ve been together for this long, and not once have I ever given you a blowjob. And I know, you always say you’re fine with it, but like…I really wanna give you one.”

And that’s when you muster up some confidence to peer up at him meekly, and that’s what seals the deal for Toji. Who is he to deny such puppy dog eyes from his baby?

“Okay then,” he chortles with a smirk, the scar on his right side rooted up. It’s just a blowjob. If not for me, then for them. “Do what you do, cutie.” Little did he know that this would blow his expectations far out.

It started out nice and slow. Toji indulged in your kisses as you snuck your hand into the hem of his drawstring pants, sucking on his tongue while fingers crept inside his boxer briefs to give his cock a rub. He groans into your mouth, liking how you’re setting the mood until you take your lips away from his and slide off the couch to be between his legs. Removing his underwear to the floor, you examine his half-soft dick before using your hands to wrap around the base, massaging around it while you take the tip in your mouth. Toji sighs in bliss at the feeling of your soft licks and rolls of your tongue, shifting around to get more comfortable on the couch.

His erection becomes less and less flaccid, hardening around your mouth. This is where you decide to take in more of his length, hallowing your cheeks as you push your puffy lips down halfway down his erection. By the time you reach this base, your throat is so full of Toji’s girth that you use his sweatpants as reins for your hands as you try to give yourself a few seconds to adjust to the limb occupying your throat. You continue to suck on his cock, bobbing up and down with your saliva coating him, your tongue moving around on the underside of his dick every time you suck up to the tippy top.

The sucks and strokes to his length become a little faster, and it’s here that Toji can’t concentrate on the television. Subtle twitches of his leg result from the hummed moan you express while taking him to the hilt. The vibrations that resonate along the inner walls of your throat are felt. It feels so good. And the tongue of yours? Fuck. His brows trench down when your tongue licks from the bottom of his ridge to the frenulum, giving his cockhead an onslaught of rough licks and kisses that has Toji exhale through his nose. “Hmmnn, fuck…Y/n, baby, y’re so good at this…Uhghh!”

You release his tip with a soft ‘plop’ with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his spit-covered cock. “Ahahhn, really?” Oh, fucking shit, don’t look at him like that. Your hooded eyes peering up at him with a soft smile while your hands maintain a stroking rhythm that has Toji squirm around your grasp. And then you surprise him with a grasp of his ballsack, oh you’re a devilish cutie. “That makes me happy to know,” you give him a giggle when Toji involuntarily bucks to your hands; the veiny limb contrasting with your pretty fingers is such a sight to see. The pulsating commotion between your legs progresses more by the second.

More dangerous licks paired with the massage to his balls as Toji huff is bliss. “Ahhh, sh–shit…Ya like how my dick tastes, mama?”

Taking his cock back into your mouth with alluringly half-lidded eyes is the answer you give him, your lips covering your teeth as your jaw relaxes to welcome his neither limb back inside your warm oral cavity. The suction of your hallow cheeks became lethal with the increased speed, your tongue now swirling around him and creating such deviant noises that only Toji focuses on despite the television vices failing to drown them out.

Holy shit, Toji wasn’t expecting this kind of treatment at all. This was downright out of the water from all the other oral ordeals he’s had in his life. How the fuck were you so good at this!? Cupping his balls while slurping his dick was such a dangerous combo; Toji doesn’t know how long he’ll contain the urge to stand and fuck your face here and now. Goddamn, the faster you bob your lips on him, the shiver down his spine is hard to ignore. His hips jerking to your mouth; he wants to fuck your face so bad. And just looking at your ass sway while you suck on him, he knows you’re enjoying this as well.

It reaches a point where he can’t take it anymore — he wants to go faster and harder. So Toji grabs your head as he stands up and dials the tempo to a harsher motion, propelling your lips down to his pelvis. And you’re quick not to panic, being sure to breathe when Toji smacks his testicles to your chin and ruts into your face and throat with no mercy. Toji moans at the sensation of your gummy walls wrapping around his length, hissing at your muffled wails as he hits the back of your throat. “Fsshhh—Hnngh!! Fuckin’ shit, just like that, mama, just like that…Ohhggh!”

You can feel the veins on his girth pulsate, indicating that his release is soon coming. The thrusts to your face get erratically faster, so you’re sure to grab onto his sweatpants to make sure you don’t lose balance as he spills his load down your throat. Ending it with a few rough hits to your lips, Toji groans with gritted teeth, shaky, strong legs pumping his semen for you to drink, which you merrily take with muzzled squeals on his shaft. The both of you experience the last moment of this euphoric high until Toji’s body calms down, heavy breaths going slower with every expel. He gives you a few moments to suck him off a little more before removing himself from you, gradually pulling his length, quivering with the aftershocks at the dismissal of your warm walls around him. And he jolts when you tease him with one last lick to the sensitive tip.

“Hahhh, damn, cutie,” Toji takes a seat back on the couch, eyeing you down with a weary smirk and furrowed brows. “Since when did ya like to get down and dirty?”

You sheepishly smile back and avert your eyes down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m glad you liked it, Toji.”

“Sure as hell did,” he bends down to grab your chin and bring you in for a kiss. The squeaks you let out when he bites your lips are too adorable and hot to his ears. “Want me to eat you out, sweet thing?”

“Really?” God, you were too cute — beaming at him like that with such a lovely smile.

“Sure thing. Besides, I saw the way you were movin' that ass while suckin’ me off. So, I got you,” Toji takes off his sweatpants, moving his legs to be on the couch entirely. His dick is still standing erect, and he gives you a suggestive grin before tapping his chest, a sign for you to get ready and sit on him. “Only if ya can do that shit on me again.” The request takes you aback for a minute, but you chuckle and stand up. You remove your bottoms and underwear, and Toji notices the wet spot on the material.

Again, Toji is never one to be given oral. But if he’s going to be treated like this, you might be able to change his mind.

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dearobinchwan · 7 months ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ?

featuring : gn!reader + Zoro, Mihawk and Ace

warning : none

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro

His heart suddenly beats more rapidly whenever he sees you smiling, laughing, or even doing the most random thing. On top of that, Sanji's overly complimentary remarks towards you make him want to reach for his swords. No, this can't be. He's stared death down a thousand times, cut through countless enemies. Yet, this new feeling blooming for you – it's terrifying.

Zoro coming to terms with his feelings for you? Buckle up, because it's going to be a hilarious journey. Denial will be his middle name for a while, trust me. This dense swordsman will be in for a wild ride before he finally connects the dots.

Thanks to Nami's interrogation skills (and a little sake), the whole crew knows Zoro has a thing for you. Now, expect endless teasing from Luffy and Usopp, who'll probably try to spill the beans before a certain mosshead gives them his best glare.

Zoro finally figuring out his feelings for you? Great! Now comes the real test: talking to you about them. Because let's be honest, under that tough-guy act, he is probably a nervous wreck, sweating bullets at the thought of rejection.

Zoro's not exactly the Romeo type. So expect a confession that's straightforward, maybe a bit awkward – but heartfelt nonetheless. If you feel the same, a weight will lift from his shoulders. But if not, he'll respect your decision and try to keep things smooth between you.

Dracule Mihawk

Don't be fooled by Mihawk's stoic facade – because he is quite aware of his feelings for you. Years have honed his instincts, and unlike his pupil, he has no time (and he is too old) for childish denial. His emotions are clear, even if unspoken.

That man has a very calculating mind. He'll dissect every interaction, every glance, searching for a sign that you love him as mush as he loves you. Despite his solitary nature, his mind might already be constructing a future by your side – a future dependent on your response.

Mihawk is probably one of the few men in One Piece who are very romantic (Oda told me so). His brand of romance is subtle yet charming. Imagine leisurely strolls through his gardens or watching the sunset with a glass of wine by his side. A subtle offer of his arm, a hint of a blush from you – that might be all the encouragement he needs to take things a step further.

Once confident your feelings mirror his own, Mihawk will approach things in an (VERY) old-fashioned way. Be prepared for a carefully crafted dinner invitation, where he can formally request the honor of courting you. His pride lies in being a gentleman, and rushing into things is simply not his style. He prefers to court you slowly and respectfully, allowing your relationship to develop naturally.

After a series of thoughtful dates, Mihawk will finally take the next step and ask you to be his partner (Perona and Zoro might have placed a bet on the timeline, of course). Like everything he does, Mihawk will approach this new chapter with utmost seriousness. Your well-being will always be his top priority.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace isn't the denial type. The ache when you're gone, the quiet competition with Marco and Izo for your laughter – these are the clues that tip him off. Ace falling for you? It's written all over his flustered face. He stutters and turns red like a tomato when speaking to you unexpectedly.

The entire crew is a nuisance and teases him constantly about his love for you. They have grilled him mercilessly – “When will you confess?” they ask, convinced you feel the same.

Denial ? Once again, not Ace's style. But baring his heart, admitting his love for you ? That's a terrifying vulnerability he fears more than anything. On top of that, I believe he is also afraid of losing your friendship by making things awkward if you don't feel the same about him.

Thankfully, Marco, ever the voice of reason, is there to guide this lovestruck dummy. And honestly, this old man is tired of watching you two pining from afar. A stern talk from Marco might be just what Ace needs to understand that silence could lead to a missed opportunity for a great relationship.

Ace's confession? A masterpiece in the making, at least in his head. Daily mirror pep talks and a meticulously planned romantic gesture – that's how he plans to declare his love. Just imagine the blushing, the stammering, the potential for minor explosions (caused by Ace's nervousness, of course).

Dinner over, Ace reaches for something hidden in his pocket. His nervousness is palpable, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he throws caution (and the letter) to the wind, ready to confess his true feelings directly from the heart.

#divider by cafekitsune #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #zoro roronoa x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #portgas d ace x reader #zoro x reader #mihawk x reader #ace x reader #zoro roronoa x you #portgas d ace x you #dracule mihawk x you #zoro x y/n #mihawk x y/n #ace x y/n

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theoldsports · 6 months ago

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SHITHEAD.

Art Donaldson x Reader.

warnings: a lot of them. 18+, slapping, begging, major angst, brat!Art, an argument with make up sex. Art is really manipulative because… he is a bit and we all know it. [Y/N] is very ill-tempered too. it’s dirty.

can be a part ii to SPONTANEOUS, or read as a standalone. this is my favorite piece of writing i have published on this account.

The bed was empty beside [Y/N]. She stared at Art’s empty side of the bed. The soft green sheets and mix-matched pillowcases went unoccupied. Not because he wasn’t home, but because [Y/N] hated Art so he had to sleep downstairs on the couch.

It wasn’t that she really hated Art. She did hate him right now. Not in a funny way. Their drive home had been silent. Poor Art didn’t know how to facilitate conversation that wouldn’t worsen the situation. His sorrowful eyes, but honest eyes kept glancing from the road to where [Y/N] sat in the passenger seat. The real showdown had started between them something awful when the door to their house slammed shut.

See, Art cried when he got mad. Or sad. Or profoundly excited. Their wedding photos were two-thirds Art crying and trying not to show that he was crying.

Art hadn’t cried tonight yet. That pissed [Y/N] off. She was furious and he seemed to feel absolutely zero discernible feelings about that.

They argued all the time. It rarely lasted all too long.

It was different this time. When [Y/N] started to say something cruel or shout or weep, Art got a little smaller, but he alarmingly stood his ground. He averted his gaze and said “I respectfully disagree,” or “What the fuck do you know about how I feel?” in a dangerously level tone.

Fighting with Art about this wasn’t fun. He was too cool about. He knew he was right. [Y/N] wanted to yell and scream because Art was so relaxed and condescending in his tone. When the man who had spent his teenage years getting referred at competition after competition as literally Ice tonelessly said: “Jesus Christ, aren’t you bored yet? What, going to over-explain the same information to me again, or…?” Finally, that had made [Y/N] drag herself to bed and yank the door closed violently enough that she felt the metallic vibration run all the way up to her shoulder.

And she was still laying there, staring at Art’s side of the bed.

At the Zweig’s party that night, there were a few hot topics in the Donaldsons’ sphere:

1) Lots of congratulations from people that had known them grow up, but hadn’t seen them since the wedding or prior.

This was mostly very kind. It dragged that smirk up Art’s face and caused his fingers to dig tighter into [Y/N]’s waist. That look of pride and tenderness on his face was more than welcome.

2) Lots of questions about Patrick. His lack of attendance was felt.

Both Donaldsons dodged these question as much as they could. Art kept an eye on [Y/N]’s liquor consumption. He knew how embarrassed she would be if she said something she regretted in front of Patrick’s family. Patrick had hurt them both, but Art’s heart went out to [Y/N]. Her world had been built around Patrick’s from a young age. Art was trying to engineer his own world higher around her so she wouldn’t be able to see the old place and people that had burned her over the walls.

3) “You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

With Art keeping an eye on [Y/N]’s drinking, she hadn’t really been keeping an eye on him. She just assumed he would keep his shit together. Art drinking in public was never really a concern. He wasn’t a big drinker anyway. At this point, his career mattered more and he was approaching his mid-twenties which made him feel surely less young than he had once. He wasn’t a casual beer guy either. It was Patrick who liked beer and Art who would have a moledo or something sometimes. Art did like white girl drinks, though. Tequila and fruity stuff. He had been able to shoot shot after shot of vodka like a pro in college at a season-end celebration.

Art was a tight-lipped man, but he was a giggly drunk who he got pretty comfortable talking out of his ass from behind a glass with an umbrella in it. Art was rarely comfortable with anything, so a drink or two at a party was welcome to him.

Another important point of context is that the largest point of tension between Art and [Y/N] was starting a family. They desperately wanted a child together, but they disagree on when. [Y/N] felt like she was fresh out of college, so she figured they had plenty of time. Art felt that he was fresh out of college, so he figured they may as well get to it.

Their arguments about this were once semi-regular. In the last four months or so, Art timidly bowed out and hoped [Y/N] would tell him when she was ready (sooner rather than later). He got tired of the low-tier shouting matches. Instead, he would pick fights about things that were decidedly lower stakes when he was bored.

Art had let [Y/N] field comments about family planning throughout the night. Unfortunately, when Art was polishing off a second drink, he ran his mouth a little bit.

Knowing he was the designated driver that night, Art did go easy. Art was also, like, five pounds. While he could hold his liquor with grace, he always got giggly. He watched with heavy eyelids as [Y/N] walked away to collect another drink following the dinner portion of the evening. The paper placecards with their shared last name emblazoned on them rested comfortably in Art’s inner jacket pocket to be kept as a memory.

Some guy who sold boat insurance and liked to rub elbows with talent was talking Art’s ear off. Art couldn’t remember his name, but [Y/N] would know it.

This was the precise moment that got Art in trouble.

Because when the guy whose name Art was sure started with an R said: “So! You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

Art said:

“Any day now, I hope. Tomorrow. I’m good to go. [Y/N] thinks now’s not a great time for her.”

He had said it with a smirk and a stupid little laugh. It was basically locker room talk. Big deal. He would’ve said it to Patrick with [Y/N] present in the room. This guy wasn’t Patrick and he was technically speaking behind her back.

Art had forgotten how close they were standing to the bar. He had forgotten that the frequency of his pitchy tenor was known to carry. He had forgotten that he was well known to be an instigator of fights even though he never actually threw the first punch. He had forgotten that he hadn’t been whispering. He had forgotten that this guy… Richy? Ronnie? was pretty much a stranger who had no business knowing their business.

Now, Art was sleeping on the couch and his side of the bed was empty.

Jackass.

[Y/N] stared still at the empty bed and didn’t know how to articulate her upset to an Art who had seemingly yet to feel ashamed.

She had a headache and was tired. But sleep wasn’t going to come easy and all she had to look forward to was a hangover.

Art didn’t really snore, but he was a heavy breather when he slept. The lack of his white noise made the A/C blowing and the stairs creaking too loud. Maybe all of this was on [Y/N] for making Art uncomfortable, she dared to think.

Then she reminded herself that it was Art’s fault for talking too much and for drinking when he knew he was supposed to drive home.

[Y/N] rolled over to face away from Art’s spot. All she could think about is how his hands always sleepily pawed at her to pull her back when she got too far away from him before he fell asleep.

“So, what’d you do?” Patrick asked.

“She hates me.” Art replied. It was almost a question.

“I asked what you did, not what she feels. She already told us what she feels and it’s that she hates you.” Patrick stated. When Patrick had stopped through town for a match, he had come by for dinner with, well, his best friends. This had been right after they’d gotten engaged.

Art sniffled. He didn’t want to cry in front of Patrick. Art would sooner cry in front of his own father. Both men would have laughed in his face, but it would have stung more from Patrick. “We got into a fight yesterday. A big one. Like, the first, uh, big one. She’s worried about the f—“

“The future? Please,” Patrick said bitterly. He frowned and his jaw tightened, but he combatted it by tossing Art a smile before the other man noticed the tension. “Stupid. You’re gonna marry her. You’ll play tennis. She’ll do her… columns? Articles. I don’t get what it is that she does—“

“She writes for—“

“Sure, yeah. You’re gonna have two kids so you can each pick a favorite one. And she’s gonna be a pain in your ass forever. Don’t be a pussy.”

Art sniffled again and stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I didn’t think I did,” Art said meekly. “I don’t get it. She gets so mad sometimes. At me.” Patrick stared at him blankly. Art had to know that he was usually at least a little bit the problem.

“Did she do the thing where she calls you a—“

“Shithead bastard?”

“Shithead bastard.” Both boys said at the same time. Art dragged his hands through his hair and looked up at Patrick. Both of them quirked a smirk at the other.

“See,” Patrick started. “You’ll be fine. Fuckin’ go after her.”

“And say what!”

“Uh… ‘I’m sorry?’ You do that kinda shit. She’ll like that.”

It was impossible to know how long [Y/N] laid there. The clock was on Art’s side and she would get spitting mad if she rolled back over.

She could just go downstairs and tell Art to come back to bed. He was probably sleeping just fine.

“Hey, hon, you don’t hate me, right?” Art’s voice whispered in the darkness.

[Y/N] was fairly certain she had imagined it. She had not heard his sweaty feet on the stairs or his fingers against the doorknob. Quickly, [Y/N] whipped over to face the door behind her.

There was Art. His sweatpants sat low on his hips and his shirt was long gone. Clothing didn’t often survive the night on Art’s back.

Really, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken Art to work through coming upstairs so quietly. “Mm?” [Y/N] groaned in question.

Art rocked his right shoulder into the doorway to lean. His arms were crossed and his eyes straight ahead on her from what [Y/N] could tell in the glow of the hallway’s thermostat. “Please just tell me you don’t hate me and I’ll let you go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

With a sigh, [Y/N] sat up and rolled her cracking shoulders back. “I don’t hate you, Art.” Her heart melted a little bit. [Y/N] knew it was immature, but her special attack in arguments since childhood was to bandy around the word hate a lot. Not that she had said it to Art tonight, but she had no doubt said it before. More than once. More times than she could count, maybe.

She was surprised Art had never asked this before. That surprise hurt in an a way that was too complex to describe. “I could never hate you.” [Y/N] continued, voice hushed only because it was dark out.

Art’s posture relaxed slightly. “You promise you don’t?” Said Art’s evermore crippling lack of self-confidence.

“I promise.” [Y/N] replied calmly.

“Okay. Thank you.” Art said in a small voice.

“I love you, baby. I don’t hate you. You shouldn’t have to ask that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you even have to ask that.”

Art frowned sharply. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. You told me nicely not to talk about—“

“Don’t play that. You have to know you don’t feel like you did anything wrong, so you don’t have to invent a situation where you’re some horrible person.”

Art was silent.

[Y/N] continued. “I’m pissed because you told Randy,” RANDY. His name was RANDY. That’s it. “Our business. My business, really. He’s an asshole. It’s fine. Well, not now, but eventually. But you kinda martyred yourself on it. You don’t have to do that and I don’t hate you. You know I don’t… Right?”

“I’m sorry.” Art said quickly. He was gifted at making every single minor problem his own fault. He knew he was a little bit of an awful person for that, but he would die before admitting it. Art would hide behind his martyring habit as long as his cross could hold him, though. [Y/N] hadn’t noticed before this moment, but she could see the shining of his eyes in the digital blue-green glow. Tears. This time, less than obvious waterworks. Aw.

“I’m sorry. I’m still pissed at you for running your mouth, but I’m sorry too.”

Art nodded, said nothing else and reached for the doorknob.

Here is a frustrating thing about Art.

He said he was going to leave for downstairs once [Y/N] said she didn’t hate him. He started to make good on that vow. If he says something, he’s going to do it, even though he doesn’t have to do it.

“Come on,” [Y/N] called louder than she’d been whispering. “Come here, pretty baby.”

Pretty Baby by Blondie had been their wedding song. She had been calling him that for almost as long as she had known him. Saying it, or hearing the song always made that stunning, small crooked smile stretch up beyond his sad puppy eyes all the way to his ears.

Art’s kryptonite was pretty baby. They both knew it.

He turned to look at her with a slight blush on his cheeks, almost visible in the dark. Art shifted one of his feet childishly over the other in apprehension.. “Don’t make me say it again. I don’t like to ask twice.” [Y/N] reminded him.

After a hasty nod, Art was in bed before he [Y/N] blinked. The blonde sat bolt upright beside [Y/N] with his eyes wide. Hesitant, but coyly so. He knew this pattern. The agony and shame from her brutality would only last so long. Housepets loved to cause trouble for treat.

Not to say that Art liked to start fights so he could play some low-status lapdog that got to feel his wife’s fingers comb through his hair the way he liked as a reward for an apology. The man bit his cheek to avoid a devious smirk. A part of him did like to do that sometimes, though.

He always got away with it. He was such a nice boy.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes and leaned back into the threadbare pillows. With a finger, she beckoned Art nearer. Hesitation eliminated, Art flopped slowly down beside [Y/N]; she on her back, he on his side, facing her. Delicately, Art’s fingers dragged down [Y/N]’s arm to curl in her fingers.

Not long after that, his plush mouth climbed down from her neck. Then shoulders and collarbones. Then bicep. Elbow. Forearm and wrist. Down her hand to her silver-studded ring finger. Each kiss with accompanied with an honest and dutiful I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He was sorry. Genuinely. Sorry for the upset he brought his wife, but not the cause. Art’s beautiful duel-colored eyes glanced up at [Y/N]’s blown pupils through her own fingers.

“I didn’t mean to talk about you like that… I just… I love you so much that I want more of you. That’s all, honey,” Art laid his head on [Y/N]’s upper chest and his mouth moved against the front of her throat. “I’m just a little stupid, huh…”

Under his lips, Art could feel the rumble of a laugh rip through [Y/N]’s throat. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair to hold him in place. “Do-don’t talk about yourself like that,” she mumbled and gave his hair a lovely tug with both hands. He whimpered. [Y/N] wanted to bottle that sound. Art would always remember what she said next and how she said it: “Only I get to talk about you like that… St-stupid.”

This was the version of [Y/N] he was going to remember when he thought of her every day for the rest of his life. That sentence, the way her hair hung from where he had pushed it away from her neck. The sting of the cold metal from her wedding ring on the back of his neck and the stone of her engagement ring pressing into where he reached his palm to place his hand over hers. There was just the wrong amount of clothes between them. Her eyes ringed smoky from the makeup smudges and the exhaustion.

“Say it again.” Art whispered, swinging a knee over [Y/N]’s thighs so he could stare down at her. His forehead pressed softly against [Y/N]’s.

[Y/N]’s mouth fell open slightly with a breathy exhalation. Holy shit. “What, pretty baby, you want me to tell you how stupid you are? You like that?” [Y/N] almost whispered into Art’s still lips. He was too shocked to kiss her back, but too turned on to pull away. Art whimpered louder than before. [Y/N] felt him nod.

So she didn’t hold back. “You think I need to punish you after you behaved like that today or something? You need to atone for what a moron you were, shithead?” [Y/N] kept her tone light enough to just about tease as her nose trailed along the side of his. Her objective was to belittle. Her nails slid down Art’s muscular, sturdy back.

They both knew Art was a masochist on his worst days. Did he get off on being degraded sometimes? Sure. But this series of events was ridiculously new and exciting for [Y/N]. And shockingly obviously for Art too.

His hips pressed into her pathetically. “What? Did you need help with something?” She asked innocently when she felt Art’s hard-on against her thigh. [Y/N] kissed him distractingly warmly for how she was treating him. Art’s head spun and he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything anymore. He had backed himself into the best kind of corner.

Across Art’s hips and side went [Y/N]’s left hand, to the front of his sweatpants. Humiliatingly, Art blinked tears out of his eyes and screwed them shut. His mouth opened and closed, but no intelligent sound came out. [Y/N] planted a kiss at the corner of his parted lips. His strong arms boxed [Y/N] protectively in from above, but she had him locked into place, really. “Baby, if you want something, you know you have to ask for it.”

“Nnh,” Art tried, eyes stuck shut. His attention was mostly spent hold himself up over his wife. His insanely gorgeous wife. [Y/N]’s other hand grabbed his jaw tenderly. He still didn’t look at her. Art was gathering his courage. “Yo-you already told me I couldn’t have what I wanted.”

With a sharp inhale, [Y/N] grip went from gentle to nonexistent. At the lack of contact, Art’s damp eyes crept open one at a time to see if his brattiness had overstepped the situation. His frightened eyes caught [Y/N]’s. She popped the side of his face sharply with an open palm. Art blinked and tipped his head to the side like a dog.

That was big trouble, huh?

“Fuck,” he said. Both of them panted in sync. “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

[Y/N] pulled Art’s face to hers and kissed him hard. “I love… you.” She said.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson #challengers movie

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luveline · 7 months ago

Note

hellooo I have a request for Spencer x bombshell! reader (I'm not sure if you've done this before and if you have I apologise!!) but like they're on a case and one of them gets pretty badly hurt somehow & then the other is really worried about them & stuff and then I'm not sure (I think this could be good but not the way that I have spoken about it and so I'm very very sorry!!)

u r so awesome don’t worry!!

cw canon typical violence and injury

Everything is crisp and quiet at the precipice of the stakeout. You adjust your gun where it’s poised over the roof of an SUV away from a moving officer’s body. The negotiator adjusts the megaphone at their thigh nervously, waiting for Hotch’s go ahead. You’re all waiting for it. A hand raised, sending you in, hostage recovered, a long case coming to a short close.

“Don’t forget your leg,” Spencer says to you under his breath.

“Trust me, babe, I can’t forget it,” you say back, glancing quickly at him to your left. He’s facing forward, trained on the window where you’d last seen the unsub. The distance between you both and the danger is small, less than three feet of space. You and Spencer don’t have a clear shot, the agent’s behind you better equipped and better trained, but you can make do in a pinch.

“Hurting?” he whispers.

“Half as bad as it was yesterday.”

“I have a bad feeling.”

“Yeah?” You follow Hotch’s hand. The negotiation begins. You and Spencer don’t talk again.

The unsub is sour, the victim terrified. When the screaming inside begins in earnest, the FBI rolls inside, confident in taking down the unsub, if a little worried about the victims wellbeing. You and Spencer sweep in less than ten inches away from each other, unafraid, and you don’t see the sledgehammer until it’s hitting you in the jaw, spraying blood like dark ink over Spencer’s pale cheek.

—

“I don’t care if that’s what you recommend.” A drag of a soft touch somewhere on your skin. “Sincerely. I want a second opinion.”

“It’s a mandibular fracture, we have a suitable follow up procedure.”

“I understand, but I’m doing what she’d want me to do. When she wakes up, she’ll say the same thing, and so there’s no point in starting the paperwork for a procedure she won’t agree to.”

“I doubt her cosmetic preferences will outweigh functionality.”

It’s Spencer’s voice, Spencer’s hand on your leg. He’s reaching back to hold you as he defends you. “Respectfully, you don’t know her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She needs peace and quiet.”

The doctor harrumphs but leaves. Quiet is restored, and for a while you doze, the only thing at your attention Spencer’s hand where it climbs. He takes your hand. You know his fingers well where they twine between yours.

A few hours pass by in sluggish slee, the bed elevated to an uncomfortable sitting position.

“Hey?” he asks, fingertips to the hill of your shoulder. “Are you waking up?”

You can’t make your mouth form words. Your eyes flash open in shock.

“Hey, don’t panic. I’m sorry, I’m going to explain, but please don’t panic.”

You wait.

Spencer stands in a rumpled shirt, hair in his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. “Your jaw is broken, fractured, actually, pretty badly. You’ve had so much pain relief over the last few hours I’m surprised you can even open your eyes, and it’s good you’re struggling to move your mouth because it would only hurt anyways.” He claps your arm gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere though, okay? I’m right here.”

That’s not what scares you; you know Spencer’s gonna stay. It’s not a question.

Your hand strays up to your face.

“It’s not bad,” he swears, and perhaps lies.

“Spence,” you manage, a croak that aches and lisps at once.

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning down. “Please don’t get upset.”

You blink tearfully. You don’t remember what happened, just the flash of pain and now Spencer looking down at you like you’re wounded. He sits carefully on the side of your bed and grabs you by the waist, two hands on your sides and arms resting on your stomach, like a hug that hasn’t crept forward.

“You won’t like the bruise,” he says apologetically.

“Bad?” you whisper.

“It’s all the way up to your eye. He also chipped two of your teeth… I’m so sorry, angel. It was my fault.” He thumbs your ribs. “I’ll fix everything. I already talked to your dentist, and tonight they’re coming back to talk about your plastics because the blow split your skin, okay? But you're mostly fixed already.”

“‘M I… still pretty?” you ask.

“Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, not half as shyly as he’d usually would.

You cry panicked, dribbly tears. He rubs shapes into your sides and swears again that it’ll all be okay, and it’s not that you don’t believe him, it’s just that it’s really starting to hurt.

“Had a bad feeling,” he says, wiping your tears as gently as he can before they can wet the bandaging on your jaw.

“Did you get him for me?” you ask.

Morgan clears his throat from the doorway to announce his arrival, a coffee cup in hand, pastry bag hanging between his pinky and marriage finger. He sounds like he’s about to laugh, “Did you, lover boy?” He beams at you. “I’ve never seen him pistol whip someone before. You would’ve loved it.”

You groan in agony. Missing out on seeing that is almost as bad as breaking your jaw.

“I’ll recreate it for you,” Spencer promises.

“And now it’s time for him to eat,” Morgan says, putting the pastry bag on the bed, “and get some sleep. He hasn’t slept in the two days you’ve been in here.”

“I had important stuff to take care of,” he says, rubbing your side. “While you couldn’t do it yourself.”

“Sleep,” you insist through your achy mouth.

Spencer’s eyes go soft and sad. “I will.”

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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idkyetxoxo · 1 month ago

Text

Aegon Targaryen - Debt Owed

Summary - A marriage, once feared as duty, blossoms into love. Tragedy strikes shattering their bliss when ruthless debt collectors demand a terrible price, leaving them adrift in a sea of sorrow. Now, haunted by loss, they cling to fragments of hope amidst shattered dreams.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Violence, infanticide, pregnancy complications (very slight)

Word count - 2275

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"I cannot join you tonight, the babe hinders me from even walking long distances, let alone staying up and drinking with you and your companions," I explained softly. The disappointment in my voice was impossible to hide, even from myself.

My loving husband, Aegon sat across from me, concern etched on his handsome face. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of my hand, a gesture that never failed to soothe me.

"Then I shall accompany you in settling the twins abed," he offered suddenly, standing up and extending his hand for me to take.

I hesitated, feeling torn, the words catching in my throat. Part of me longed for his company, while the other feared robbing him of his deserved celebration.

"That is not necessary," I replied with a gentle strain as I pushed myself to my feet, using the chair for support. "You should celebrate with your companions. You deserve a moment to breathe, laugh, and be free, if only for a few hours. I do not require any assistance."

Aegon's expression softened, his eyes warm with understanding.

"Try not to startle me awake this time," I teased affectionately, feeling a surge of love for him as he kissed my forehead in return, the warmth of his lips lingered, a silent promise of his unwavering presence.

With a warm smile, he opened the door, allowing me to exit.

When our betrothal was first announced, dread had seeped into my bones. The whispers of Aegon's reputation haunted me, conjuring images of a life steeped in cold cruelty and indifference. I steeled myself for a marriage of duty rather than affection, prepared to endure whatever fate awaited me.

But reality, it seemed, had woven a far different tapestry.

To my surprise, Aegon was nothing like the man I had feared. Instead of coldness, I found warmth, instead of disdain, I found respect. He never found a reason to dislike me, and in turn, I gradually began to see him in a different light.

As days turned into months and then years, we grew to understand each other deeply.

Aegon has shown me a kindness I never expected, and in return, I have given him my heart. Though our union was born out of political necessity, it has blossomed into a genuine love story, one that neither of us could have anticipated.

As I walked out of the room, I glanced back at Aegon, who was still watching me with that familiar look of concern and affection. I smiled, feeling a profound sense of gratitude.

I entered the nursery, my heart filled with a mother's joy as I greeted the wet nurse with a warm smile.

"Your Grace," she curtsied respectfully before leaving the room, leaving me alone with our precious twins. Their innocent faces, nestled in their cradles, brought a moment of peace.

The tranquillity shattered like fragile glass as a sudden noise caught my attention.

Before I could react, a strong arm wrapped around me, crushing me against a solid chest. A cold, sharp blade pressed against my throat, and a rough hand clamped over my mouth, stifling any sound of protest.

Terror gripped me as I stared into the eyes of a burly man who emerged from the shadows.

"Who's this?" His voice was gravelly, filled with menace.

"The queen," the man behind me chuckled darkly, his grip tightening with every second. Tears streamed down my cheeks unchecked, as multiple horrifying scenarios flashed through my mind.

"Who are you?" I managed to mumble through the stifling grip on my mouth.

"Debt collectors," the man answered callously, his voice a cruel contrast to the tenderness of the nursery. "A debt is owed, an eye for an eye, a son for a son."

My heart pounded against my ribcage, a frantic drumbeat of impending doom, as the man's foul breath brushed against my ear, his grip on my throat tightening like a vice.

"Tell us which one is the boy, and no one else will be killed," the man demanded, his voice edged with menace as he held the blade steady against my throat.

His accomplice's eyes darted between the cradles, calculating and cold.

"Kill me instead," I pleaded, desperation cracking my voice as the tears continued.

"You are not a son," the man behind me sneered, his grip tightening on my mouth and the blade pressing deeper, sending a searing pain through my neck.

The physical agony was unbearable, but it paled in comparison to the overwhelming anguish of knowing my innocent children were in danger.

My mind raced, frantic with fear and helplessness. The nursery, once a sanctuary, now felt like a trap closing in around us. The twins, my twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, lay peacefully unaware in their cradles, oblivious to the horror unfolding around them.

Every fibre of my being screamed to shield them, to protect them from the cruelty of the world, but I was powerless, held fast by the brute behind me.

The man in front of me took a deliberate step closer to the cradles, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the infants.

"We don't have all night," he muttered impatiently, his voice a harsh reminder of the ticking clock counting down to unspeakable tragedy.

"Please," I gasped, struggling against the iron grip that held me, my heart pounding with frantic desperation. "They're just children. They haven't done anything wrong. Whatever debt is owed, take it out on me."

The man behind me chuckled darkly. "Do you think we're here to negotiate?" he sneered, his breath hot against my ear. "A son for a son. That's the price."

His words hung in the air like a death sentence, each one a cold dagger to my heart.

Tears blurred my vision as I pleaded with them, my voice raw with emotion. "Please, let them live," I begged, my entire body trembling with fear and sorrow. "They are innocent. This isn't their fault."

My voice cracked each word a plea torn from my soul. "Please," I begged, the strain of my sobs turning my breath into ragged gasps. "Spare them. Take me instead."

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the soft rustling of the infants in their cradles. Then, the man at the cradles turned to his partner, his tone chillingly casual.

"Which one, then?"

The pressure on my mouth loosened slightly, allowing me to speak through ragged breaths.

"I'll tell you," I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely audible amidst the turmoil within me. "But promise me, spare the other."

"Get on with it before I kill them both and then carve this one out of you," the man sneered. His mocking hand rested on my swollen stomach, a reminder of the life growing within me, now threatened by unspeakable violence.

My arm trembled uncontrollably as I lifted it, pointing at Jaehaerys with agonizing slowness. The man behind me released his hold, shoving me aside with a brutal force that sent me stumbling.

I watched in numb horror as both intruders descended upon my precious son's cradle, their movements swift and efficient, devoid of any trace of humanity.

Tears streamed down my face unchecked, my entire being torn apart by the unimaginable agony of witnessing such brutality against my own flesh and blood. Every fibre of my being screamed to intervene, to protect him, but I was paralyzed by fear and shock.

The sack they brought with them soon bulged with the weight of my son's head, their callous satisfaction cutting through me like a knife.

Then, as if snapped out of a trance, a surge of primal instinct took hold of me. With Jaehaera clutched tightly to my chest, I turned and ran my vision clouded by tears and fear.

Desperation fueled me as I dashed towards the stairs, every part of me focused on reaching safety. Panic clawed at my throat, threatening to overwhelm me, but I pushed forward, driven by the need to protect my remaining child at all costs.

To my horror, there was no sign of the Kingsguard. Dread surged through me, clouding my thoughts and then, disaster struck. My foot caught on the edge, sent me crashing to the ground with a sharp thud.

The world blurred into a fog of grief and terror as I stumbled, my vision dimming, consumed by the horror of what I had just witnessed.

My son, my sweet Jaehaerys... gone.

Pain shot through my body, but it was nothing compared to the anguish that gripped my soul. Jaehaera startled awake by the commotion awoke and I finally let out a piercing cry.

Before I could gather my bearings, rapid footsteps approached, and strong arms enveloped my trembling form. Aegon rushed to my side, his eyes wild with fear, his face a mask of panic and fury as he assessed the scene before him.

"What happened?" His voice trembled as he gently pressed his hand over the cut on my neck, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"They killed him," I managed to choke out between sobs, my voice breaking with every syllable. "They killed our boy, Aegon."

A guttural cry of anguish tore from his throat, mirroring the devastation in my own heart, a sound that would haunt me forever.

"Who did this?" His voice cracked with desperation, his eyes searching mine for answers that I couldn't provide in my shattered state.

I could only bow my head, desperate tears coating my cheeks, unable to find the words to articulate the horror that had unfolded moments ago.

"Lock the place down! Nobody leaves!" Aegon's command rang out with authority, his fury fueling the urgency of the guards who swiftly moved to secure the area.

Their faces were grim, hardened by the gravity of the situation.

"Aegon, he's dead," I repeated, my voice a hollow whisper, as he held me tighter.

Aegon's hands trembled as he tried to shield me from the brutal reality of our loss. "I swear to you," he vowed through clenched teeth, his voice thick with determination and sorrow, "we will find them. They will pay for this."

But his words felt distant, like echoes in a void. My mind replayed the last moments in the nursery, the terror, the helplessness, the sight of Jaehaerys being ripped from me. Each thought was a dagger to my heart, each memory a fresh wound.

I clung to Aegon, my body shaking with sobs, as the reality of our shattered lives sank in.

"Aegon," I gasped, my eyes locking onto his with desperation. "It hurts," I whispered, my hands instinctively cradling my swollen belly.

The pain intensified to an unbearable level, drowning out Aegon's voice filled with concern amidst the flurry of activity around me.

As darkness closed in, I reached for him once more, my voice barely a whisper, "Aegon... it hurts."

The pain wasn't just physical, it was a deep, all-consuming agony that hollowed out my soul.

The last thing I remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was the haunting echo of the queen dowager's screams resonating through the hall.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

When I woke later, I found myself lying in bed, the soft light of dawn filtering through heavy curtains. My head felt heavy as I struggled for a moment to recall where I was. Then, I felt the warm, reassuring grip of Aegon's hand clasping mine.

The maester stood nearby, his expression a mix of relief and ease.

"You are awake," he said softly. "The babe is fine, your grace. The pain and discomfort were due to strain and worry, nothing more. Rest assured, both you and the babe are safe."

"Aegon," I gasped again, turning my head to find his eyes filled with concern and love. "I want to see Jaehaera," I insisted, urgency trembling in my voice. I threw off the sheets and attempted to stand, but Aegon quickly rose and gently eased me back into bed.

"Please, rest," he urged, his tone both soothing and firm.

Just then, a voice called from the doorway, "Your Grace." It was one of the guards, and beside him stood Jaehaera. The sight of her filled my heart with relief and joy.

As soon as she saw me, Jaehaera broke free from the guard and rushed to the bed, throwing herself into my arms. I held her close, feeling her small, warm body against mine.

"Mother," Jaehaera whispered, her voice muffled as she buried her face in my neck. I stroked her hair, crying softly.

"My sweet girl," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion.

Though Jaehaera was too young to grasp the full extent of our loss, she sensed the absence of her brother. I tried to be strong for her, but my own strength was waning, my heart too shattered to offer comfort.

In the following weeks, Aegon and I grew distant, our shared grief creating an insurmountable chasm between us. He became consumed by his quest for vengeance, while I found myself trapped in a relentless cycle of despair.

Our conversations dwindled, filled more with echoes of pain than words of solace.

One night, I sat alone in the dimly lit nursery, clutching one of Jaehaerys's tiny blankets close to my chest. His scent lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what we had lost.

Unable to contain the torrent of grief any longer, I allowed myself to weep freely. The tears flowed unrestrained, a mixture of sorrow and anger that had been building since that dreadful night.

Aegon found me there, his face etched with sorrow as he knelt beside me. His hand rested gently on my shoulder.

"They will answer for what they've done" he whispered with resolve, his voice tinged with heartbreak.

But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that no amount of vengeance could fill the void left by Jaehaerys's death.

The wound was deep, aching with a pain that would never truly heal.

A/n - I did listen to Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby by Cigarettes After Sex on repeat whilst writing, might have influenced some of the heartache

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #team green #aegon the second #aegon targaryen #king aegon #hotd aegon

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rosesareredrosa · 3 months ago

Text

Quick Realizations

Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has always known everything about everyone—except his own feelings. When a playful conversation turns into an unexpected confession, Mattheo realises he might like you more than just as a friend.

w/c: 1287

a/n: send in requests pls I have no clue what to write about

To no one's surprise, Mattheo knows almost everything.

For example, he knows that he's your best friend.

He knows that you prefer studying by the Black Lake rather than in the library, that you secretly adore Herbology even though you complain about the dirt, and that you like sneaking out after curfew just to wander the castle halls at night. He also knows that Pansy has been in a better mood since Draco complimented her new potion-brewed perfume, and that Theo's been practicing his wandwork more than usual because he's been trying to impress a certain Ravenclaw in Charms class.

Simply put, Mattheo knows everything about everyone.

"And then what did she do?" He leans back against the stone bench, casually tossing a stray pebble into the lake, watching as the water ripples outward.

"We just talked afterward," you shrug, watching as a pair of first years try to coax the Giant Squid to the surface. "It was nice catching up with her; it's been a while."

"I bet. She's a nightmare," Mattheo chuckles, popping a chocolate frog into his mouth as he speaks. He chews thoughtfully for a moment before glancing over at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh!" Your eyes brighten as you recall something, turning to face him.

You can't help but burst into laughter when you see his face, but you quickly compose yourself, keeping your smile in check. "She also said the funniest thing—she said that she thought you had feelings for me!"

His eyes widen in surprise, his jaw dropping ever so slightly. "That's ridiculous."

"I know, right?" You snicker, adjusting your scarf as a cold breeze sweeps across the grounds. He joins you in laughter, the idea of liking you as more than a friend clearly absurd to him.

"Hahaha!"

But as your laughter dies down, his smile falters.

"Theo, what do I do?!"

His roommate sits at a desk in the Slytherin common room, poring over a detailed Quidditch strategy diagram. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he plans out moves for the upcoming match against Gryffindor.

"Just tell her."

"I’ll hex you into next week."

"If it’s between you being a miserable pain in my arse and getting hexed, I’ll take the hex, mate," Theo mutters, not bothering to look up from his plans.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow. "Why are you so sure you’re going to get hexed?"

"Because I’m associated with you," Theo replies dryly, finally glancing up from his Quidditch strategy with a smirk. "Help me out first, and then curse me later. C'mon, don't be stingy."

"I literally already gave you advice, just tell her how you feel."

"One small problem with that."

"What now?"

"I—" Mattheo opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find the right words. He eventually settles on giving Theo an innocent smile. "Well, I actually don't know if I like her like that? It was an in-the-moment realization kind of thing, but now I'm just confused—"

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh, tossing his quill aside and turning fully to face Mattheo. "Are you serious?" He glares at Mattheo, disbelief etched across his face. "She can’t even brew a simple potion without asking for your help, and you’re practically useless in class if you can’t sit next to her! You two have the most ridiculous relationship I’ve ever seen!"

Mattheo crosses his arms, frowning. Theo sighs again, rubbing his temples. "...Respectfully, of course."

"Talk rubbish about her again and I'll jinx you into a toad. I'm serious."

"That’s literally my point."

"That doesn’t mean you get to be mean! Take it back!"

Theo bites back a retort, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "For someone who’s so observant," he says slowly, "you know nothing."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Mattheo’s eyes narrow, suddenly on the defensive.

"Well," Theo shrugs nonchalantly, "I’ve noticed that Comrac McLaggen has been showing a lot of interest in her lately. He might even confess soon, who knows? Maybe even today."

Mattheo stares at Theo, completely stunned by the revelation. His mind races as he processes his friend’s words; Theo can practically see the exact moment the realization dawns on him. Like a flash, Mattheo jumps to his feet.

"Theo, I’ve got to go! Good luck with the Quidditch match!"

"Gryffindor's not going to know what hit them."

But before he can finish, Mattheo is already out the door.

The key to your dorm unlocks itself, and right on time, Mattheo bursts through the door, slightly out of breath, his hair messier than usual from the wind.

"What’s this—?" You barely get the words out before Mattheo grabs your shoulders, his eyes wide as he searches yours for a moment before blurting out, "I like you."

You blink, taken aback by his sudden confession, but he doesn’t give you time to respond before he continues.

"I was going back and forth with Theo, and honestly, he messed with my head a bit, but I’ve come to a decision, and I know I like you. So don’t even think about dating Comrac, he’s a decent bloke and all, but he’s not right for you. And besides, if you dated him, you'd have to deal with his mates, and that sounds like a nightmare."

You knew who Comrac was, but you stay silent to let him continue speaking. Mattheo was always the more talkative one between the two of you (he’s also the one with the warmer smile, which is funny because his hands feel like ice against your sweater).

His hands move from your shoulders to your arms, and he swallows nervously. "I’m usually not this anxious around you, y'know," he admits, words tumbling out in a rush, "normally I feel at ease talking to you, but right now I feel like I’m going to pass out."

"Did you run here from the common room?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Mattheo!" You soften instantly, placing your hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he sighs in relief. You frown at his recklessness, "You know how much running through the castle exhausts you. Why didn’t you just use the Floo network?"

"I just really wanted to see you." He pouts, opening his eyes to look at you with a vulnerability that makes your heart melt. "Like I said, Theo really messed with my head."

"I’m going to jinx him."

"Please do."

"And Mattheo?"

"Hm?"

It’s really sweet, actually—how he’s forgotten about his whole reason for coming here. But you can’t blame him too much; he’s just dashed through half the castle after battling his own nerves, and every hero deserves a reward for their courage. Especially Mattheo, who more than deserves a happy ending, and you couldn’t be more thrilled to give one to him.

"I like you too, by the way. Theo may be a little meddlesome, but he’s got great intuition; I was actually about to head to your dorm to tell you."

He gasps. "But running exhausts you!"

You smile sheepishly. "I guess I just really wanted to see you."

His jaw drops for the tenth time that day, and he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his head into your neck, murmuring against your shoulder. "I love you, I love you, I love—"

"I love you too." You smile because you do love him. He’s been your best friend since first year, your partner in crime through every adventure, the boy you admired before you even understood what admiration was. "Since you’re here, want to watch a movie? I’ve got that Muggle DVD player you’re always curious about."

"Absolutely!"

As he hums to himself, cutting up some Honeydukes sweets for your impromptu movie session.

#slytherin x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott #fluff #drabble #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo fluff

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ozzgin · 1 month ago

Note

For the folclore I thought of a duo... although, they are from the Brazilian folklore.

You could do Boitatá and Boiûna, they are two giant snakes, Boitatá is a giant snake on fire, that protects the forest and the other is completely black and is about how the night was created.

Although, there are other ones that I think it's funny to use, like the pink dolphin, literally a dolphin that turns into a human and fucks married ladies.

There are others that are really interesting that I can send if you want.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance (?), respectfully humorous

You wanted to be more adventurous. Thus, on a whim, you decided to pack a bag with necessities and begin your little hike through the Brazilian forests.

What could go bad?

Good question. You’ve considered many risks, yet your first aid kit did not foresee that you’d be stuck in the hollow of a tree, pressed between two enormous serpents.

What were you even doing out there by yourself? Oh, you silly creature. As the guardians of the forest, it is their duty to ensure safety at all times. Not everyone’s, of course. You just happened to catch their eye.

Despite your pleads, they refuse to let you go. Too many dangers out there, and besides, they’re rather fond of the little human they just acquired.

Your only hope had been a young, handsome man who happened to pass by. To your great shock, he was rather indifferent to the monstrous beasts, and they were equally unbothered by the intruder.

“I could use a hand”, you huffed under the weight of the scaly, slithering bodies.

“Are you married by any chance?” he asked. Then, he glanced at the two snakes, and back at you. “You know what, I might just return later.”

Later? You groaned as the cold grip tightened.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist]

#you can absolutely share more anon #ozztober #monstertober #brazilian folklore #monster x reader #monster x human #terato #doodle

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

I’ll Be Waiting

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Hedeby, 952

The crackling fire casts long shadows across the great hall as Toto sits upon his ornate wooden throne. His piercing brown eyes scan the room, filled with boisterous warriors celebrating their latest successful raid. But his gaze keeps returning to you, his most favored thrall, as you move gracefully among the revelers, refilling their horns with mead.

“You there,” Toto calls out, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Come hither.”

Your heart quickens as you approach, head bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Jarl?”

Toto leans forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, how fares the celebration? Are our warriors content?”

You risk a glance up, meeting his intense gaze. “They are in high spirits, my Jarl. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“And what of you?” Toto asks, his voice lowering. “Are you content in my service?”

A flush creeps up your neck. “I am honored to serve you, my Jarl. There is no greater joy.”

Toto nods, satisfied. “Good. I have a task for you. Meet me in my private chambers after the feast.”

As you turn to leave, a hand grabs your arm. It’s Ingrid, Toto’s wife, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What did my husband want with you?” She hisses.

You try to keep your voice steady. “He merely asked about the celebration, my lady.”

Ingrid’s grip tightens. “Do not think I am blind to the way he looks at you. Remember your place, thrall.”

She releases you and you hurry away, your mind racing. As the night wears on, you can feel Toto’s eyes following you, and the weight of Ingrid’s glares.

Finally, the feast winds down. With trepidation, you make your way to Toto’s private chambers. You knock softly.

“Enter,” comes his voice from within.

You step inside, finding Toto standing by the window, silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“Close the door,” he says without turning.

You obey, your pulse quickening. “You wanted to see me, my Jarl?”

Toto turns, his expression unreadable. “I did. Come closer.”

You approach cautiously, stopping a respectful distance away. Toto closes the gap between you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” He asks softly.

You swallow hard. “No, my Jarl.”

Toto’s hand cups your cheek. “I think you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. It mirrors the way I look at you.”

Your eyes widen. “My Jarl, I-”

“Shh,” he interrupts gently. “You need not speak. I know your heart, as you know mine.”

He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. But know that you hold my heart in your hands.”

Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. For a moment, the world falls away, and there is only Toto and the fire he ignites within you.

Suddenly, the door bursts open. You jump apart to see Ingrid standing there, her face contorted with rage.

“I knew it!” She screams. “You treacherous whore!”

Before either of you can react, Ingrid pulls a dagger from her belt and lunges at you. Pain explodes in your abdomen as the blade finds its mark.

“No!” Toto roars, catching you as you collapse.

He lowers you gently to the floor, pressing his hands against the wound. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, but only a gurgle escapes your lips. The world starts to fade around you.

“Guards!” Toto shouts. “Fetch the healer!”

But you know it’s too late. As your vision darkens, the last thing you see is Toto’s anguished face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I will find you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life or the next. I swear it.”

With your last breath, you manage to whisper, “I’ll be waiting.”

As your eyes close for the final time, you feel Toto’s lips press against your forehead, sealing a promise that will echo through lifetimes to come.

Vatican City, 1493

The opulent halls of the Vatican echo with hushed whispers and the rustle of silk as you make your way through the winding corridors. Your heart races, not with the excitement of a bride-to-be, but with the desperate resolve of one about to take a drastic step.

As you round a corner, a strong hand grasps your arm, pulling you into a shadowy alcove. You find yourself face to face with Cardinal Toto, his eyes filled with concern.

“My love,” he whispers urgently, “what are you doing here? The wedding is but hours away.”

You place a trembling hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the rich fabric of his robes. “I had to see you one last time.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? Speak plainly, I beg you.”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. “I cannot go through with this farce of a marriage. My father may sell me to the highest bidder, but he cannot sell my heart.”

Toto’s eyes widen in alarm. “What are you planning? Tell me you haven’t done anything foolish.”

You pull a small vial from the folds of your dress. “It is already done, my love. The poison courses through my veins even as we speak.”

“No!” Toto gasps, gripping your shoulders. “How could you? We would have found another way!”

Tears well in your eyes. “There is no other way. My father’s ambition knows no bounds. This was the only path left to me.”

Toto pulls you close, his voice breaking. “Then I shall follow you into the darkness. I cannot live in a world without you.”

You push him away gently. “You must live, Toto. Live and remember me. Perhaps in another life, we will find each other again.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I will not let you go. Not again. I’ve only just found you in this life, and I refuse to lose you once more.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

Toto cups your face in his hands. “I’ve had dreams, vivid as memories, of us in another time. A great hall, a celebration ... and a tragic end. I swore I would find you, and I have. I will not be parted from you now.”

You sway on your feet, the poison beginning to take effect. “Toto, please. You must let me go. Your life, your position ...”

“Mean nothing without you,” he finishes firmly. “Come, we must get you to a physician. Perhaps there is still time to counteract the poison.”

As he tries to lead you away, you stumble, your legs giving way beneath you. Toto catches you, lowering you gently to the floor.

“Help!” He calls out, his voice echoing through the halls. “Someone, help us!”

You clutch at his robes weakly. “It’s too late, my love. But know that I go to my death with a heart full of love for you.”

Footsteps approach rapidly. A group of guards rounds the corner, led by your father, Pope Alexander VI. His face contorts with rage at the sight before him.

“What is the meaning of this?” He thunders. “Cardinal Wolff, explain yourself!”

Toto looks up, defiance blazing in his eyes. “Your daughter lies dying, Your Holiness. Will you not call for aid?”

Your father’s gaze hardens. “My daughter knows her duty. She will marry as I have decreed.”

“She has taken poison rather than submit to your schemes,” Toto spits out. “Is your ambition worth more than your daughter’s life?”

For a moment, shock flickers across your father’s face. Then his expression hardens once more. “Guards, seize the Cardinal. He has clearly bewitched my daughter’s mind.”

As the guards move to comply, you summon the last of your strength. “Father, please. Let me die in peace, with the man I love.”

Your words give the guards pause. They look to the Pope, uncertainty in their eyes.

Your father’s face twists with conflicting emotions. “You would throw away everything for this ... this upstart Cardinal?”

“I would throw away everything for love,” you whisper. “Something you have long forgotten the meaning of.”

A tense silence falls over the group. Then, to everyone’s surprise, your father waves the guards away. “Leave us,” he commands.

As they retreat, he kneels beside you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in years. “My child, what have you done?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “I have chosen my own fate, father. For once in my life, I have made my own choice.”

Toto holds you closer, his tears falling freely now. “Is there truly nothing to be done?” He asks, his voice raw with anguish.

Your father shakes his head slowly. “The poison she favors ... it is swift and irreversible. I had thought to use it on our enemies, not ...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

As your breath grows more labored, you turn to Toto. “Promise me something, my love.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Live,” you whisper. “Live and do good in this world. And when your time comes, look for me in the next life. I will be waiting.”

Toto presses his forehead to yours. “I swear it. I will find you again, in this life or the next.”

With your last ounce of strength, you pull him into a final kiss. As your lips part, you feel the life leaving your body.

The last thing you hear is Toto’s anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the halls of the Vatican, but across time itself.

As darkness claims you, a strange sense of remembrance washes over you. You’ve been here before, you realize. And somehow, you know you’ll be here again. For your love is one that transcends death itself, destined to play out across the ages until, at last, you and Toto find your happily ever after.

Virginia, 1863

The makeshift field hospital buzzes with frantic activity as wounded soldiers are brought in from the front lines. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Amidst the chaos, you move with practiced efficiency, your nurse’s apron already stained with the day’s grim work.

Suddenly, a commotion at the entrance catches your attention. Your heart stops as you recognize the unconscious figure being carried in on a stretcher.

“Toto!” You cry out, rushing to his side.

The soldiers carrying him look grim. “It’s the Commander, ma’am. He took a bullet meant for one of his men.”

You quickly assess the wound, your medical training warring with your rising panic. “Put him here,” you direct, indicating an empty cot.

As they lay Toto down, his eyes flutter open. “Y/N?” He murmurs weakly. “Is that you, my love?”

You grasp his hand tightly. “I’m here, darling. You’re going to be alright.”

Toto manages a pained smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my dear.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you scold, fighting back tears as you begin to clean his wound. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”

He chuckles, then winces. “If only your determination could heal bullet wounds.”

As you work, you keep up a steady stream of conversation, partly to distract Toto from the pain and partly to keep your own rising fear at bay.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You ask, your hands moving swiftly to staunch the bleeding. “At that ridiculous ball in Washington?”

Toto’s eyes soften at the memory. “How could I forget? You were the most beautiful woman in the room, and I was the fool who spilled champagne all over your dress.”

You laugh despite yourself. “And then you insisted on giving me your jacket to cover the stain, even though it was three sizes too big.”

“It was worth the embarrassment,” Toto says softly. “It got you to talk to me.”

A sharp intake of breath from Toto makes you pause in your ministrations. “I’m sorry, love. I know it hurts.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing your best. You always do.”

You blink back tears, focusing on the task at hand. “We have so much left to do, Toto. Remember our plans? The house by the lake, the children we talked about ...”

Toto’s hand finds yours, squeezing weakly. “Tell me about them. Our children.”

You swallow hard, playing along even as your heart breaks. “Well, there’s little Torger, of course. He would have your eyes and your stubborn chin.”

“Poor lad,” Toto quips, his voice growing fainter.

“And our daughter,” you continue, your voice wavering. “She would be as smart as her father and as headstrong as her mother. Heaven help us when she would’ve gotten older.”

Toto’s eyes begin to drift closed. “They sound perfect.”

Panic seizes you. “Toto? Toto, stay with me. Please, darling, you have to fight.”

His eyes open again with visible effort. “I’m trying, my love. But I’m so tired.”

You look around frantically. “Doctor! We need a doctor here!”

But the overwhelmed medical staff are all occupied with other critical patients. You’re on your own.

“Look at me,” you plead, cupping his face in your hands. “Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day? You said you’d love me in this life and the next. You can’t break that promise now.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face. “The next life,” he murmurs. “Yes, I remember. I’ve always remembered, somehow.”

Confusion mixes with your fear. “What do you mean?”

Toto’s gaze becomes distant. “I’ve loved you before, Y/N. In other times, other places. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.”

You shake your head, tears flowing freely now. “You’re delirious, my love. Save your strength.”

“No,” Toto insists with surprising force. “Listen to me. This isn’t the end. I will find you again. I swear it.”

His words stir something deep within you, a sense of déjà vu so strong it takes your breath away. “Toto, I-”

But before you can finish, Toto’s body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

“No, no, no,” you chant, redoubling your efforts to save him. “Don’t you dare leave me, Toto Wolff. Don’t you dare.”

Toto manages to lift a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “My brave, beautiful Y/N. How I wish we had more time.”

You lean into his touch. “We will. You’ll get better and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

But even as you say the words, you can feel Toto slipping away. His breathing becomes more labored, his skin growing cold beneath your touch.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. “One last time.”

Choking back a sob, you lean down and press your lips to his. You try to pour all your love, all your hope, all your desperation into that kiss.

As you pull back, Toto’s eyes meet yours one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” he breathes.

And then he’s gone.

For a moment, you’re frozen in disbelief. Then a wail of anguish tears from your throat, echoing through the hospital tent.

As you collapse across Toto’s still form, sobs wracking your body, a strange sensation washes over you. It’s as if you’re remembering something you’ve never experienced — other lives, other deaths, other heartbreaks.

In that moment, you know with absolute certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Toto will find each other again.

As the chaos of the field hospital swirls around you, you whisper a promise against Toto’s cold lips. “I’ll be waiting for you, my love. In this life or the next.”

And somewhere, beyond the veil of death, a spark of hope ignites. The wheel of time turns, and two souls begin their journey once more, drawn together by a love that refuses to die.

London, 1894

The London fog hangs heavy in the air as you hurry through the winding streets, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. You pull your cloak tighter, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t been followed. Finally, you reach your destination: a nondescript townhouse in a respectable neighborhood.

You knock quickly, a pre-arranged pattern. The door opens almost immediately, and you’re pulled inside by strong, familiar arms.

“My darling,” Toto Wolff murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “I was beginning to worry.”

You melt into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent. “I’m sorry, love. It was difficult to get away tonight.”

Toto’s brow furrows as he notices your wince when he holds you. “He hurt you again, didn’t he?”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing, Toto. Please, let’s not waste our precious time together talking about him.”

But Toto gently cups your face, turning it towards him. “It’s not nothing. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. Let me take you away from all this. We could start a new life together, somewhere far from here.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “You know we can’t. The scandal would ruin you. Your business, your reputation ...”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Toto insists. “I care about you. I love you.”

Those three words, so freely given, bring tears to your eyes. “And I love you. More than I ever thought possible. But the world isn’t kind to women who leave their husbands, no matter how cruel those husbands might be.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Then let me confront him. I have influence, connections. I could make him disappear.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, I won’t have you risk everything for me. These stolen moments ... they’re enough. They have to be.”

Toto pulls you close again, more gently this time. “They’ll never be enough. Not when I know you’re suffering. Not when every fiber of my being aches to make you my wife, to give you the life you deserve.”

You look up at him, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “Sometimes ... sometimes I feel as though we’ve lived this before. This longing, this impossible love. Does that sound mad?”

A strange expression crosses Toto’s face. “No, my love. It doesn’t sound mad at all. I’ve felt it too. As if we’ve known each other across lifetimes.”

You’re about to respond when a loud banging on the door makes you both jump.

“Open up, Wolff!” A familiar, slurred voice calls out. “I know she’s in there!”

Your blood runs cold. “It’s him. Oh God, Toto, it’s my husband. He must have followed me.”

Toto’s expression hardens. “Stay here,” he commands, moving towards the door.

But you grab his arm. “No, please! He’s drunk, he’s dangerous. Let me handle this.”

Before Toto can protest, you rush to the door and open it slightly. Your husband’s red, enraged face greets you.

“So it’s true,” he snarls. “My own wife, carrying on with this ... this upstart robber baron!”

You try to keep your voice calm. “Richard, please. Let’s go home and talk about this.”

But Richard is beyond reason. He shoves the door open, nearly knocking you over. Toto is there in an instant, steadying you.

“Get your hands off my wife,” Richard growls.

Toto’s voice is ice cold. “I suggest you leave, sir. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Richard laughs bitterly. “Regret? The only thing I regret is not seeing this sooner. How long has this been going on, eh? How long have you been making a fool of me?”

You step forward, hands raised placatingly. “Richard, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” Richard roars. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

In his rage, he lashes out, his hand connecting with your cheek with a sickening crack. You stumble backwards, crying out in pain.

Toto moves with lightning speed, tackling Richard to the ground. “How dare you lay a hand on her!” He shouts, his fist connecting with Richard’s jaw.

The two men grapple on the floor, trading blows. You watch in horror, frozen in place.

Suddenly, Richard’s hand emerges from his coat, clutching a revolver. Time seems to slow down as he aims it at Toto.

“No!” You scream, throwing yourself between them just as Richard pulls the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the small space. For a moment, everything is still. Then you look down, seeing the rapidly spreading red stain on your dress.

“Y/N!” Toto cries out, catching you as you collapse.

Richard stares in shock, the gun falling from his limp fingers. “I ... I didn’t mean ...”

But Toto isn’t listening. He’s cradling you in his arms, his face a mask of anguish. “Stay with me, my love. Please, stay with me.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Toto ... my Toto ...”

“Don’t speak,” he urges. “Save your strength. Help is coming.”

But you both know it’s too late. You can feel your life ebbing away with each labored breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry we never got our chance.”

Toto’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll have another chance. I swear it. I’ll find you again, in the next life.”

A sense of peace washes over you at his words. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Toto vows fiercely. “This isn’t the end for us. It can’t be.”

With the last of your strength, you pull him down for a final kiss. As your lips meet, memories flood your mind – not just of this life, but of others. Viking halls, Vatican corridors, Civil War battlefields. Through it all, one constant.

Toto.

As darkness closes in, you manage one last whisper. “Until we meet again, my love.”

Your eyes close, your hand going limp in Toto’s grasp. The last thing you hear is his anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the room, but across time itself.

Indiana, 1932

The dilapidated streets of the once-thriving town are a stark contrast to the sleek black car that rolls through them. A powerful mobster sits in the back, his sharp eyes taking in the changes a decade has wrought on his childhood home.

As the car stops in front of a run-down tenement, a young boy approaches cautiously. Toto steps out, adjusting his expensive suit.

“You Toto?” The boy asks, eyeing him warily.

Toto nods. “I am. And you must be Jimmy. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Jimmy’s face darkens. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed. You here to see her?”

“I am,” Toto confirms, his voice softening. “How is she, Jimmy?”

The boy’s shoulders slump. “Not good, mister. Not good at all. Follow me.”

As they climb the creaking stairs, Jimmy speaks in a low voice. “She’s been sick for months. Tuberculosis, the doc says. But she won’t stop giving her food to us kids. Says we need it more.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have-”

“She wouldn’t let us,” Jimmy interrupts. “Said you had your own life now, that she didn’t want to be a burden.”

They reach a door on the third floor. Jimmy hesitates before opening it. “Just ... prepare yourself, okay?”

Toto steels himself as they enter the small, dimly lit room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you lying on the bed, a mere shadow of the vibrant girl he remembers.

Your eyes light up when you see him, even as a coughing fit wracks your frail body. “Toto? Is it really you?”

He’s at your side in an instant, taking your hand in his. “It’s me, my love. I’m here.”

You manage a weak smile. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe for you here.”

Toto shakes his head, fighting back tears. “To hell with safety. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill? I could have helped.”

Another cough shakes you, and this time, blood stains your lips. Toto reaches for a handkerchief, gently wiping it away.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you whisper. “You’ve done so well for yourself, Toto. I couldn’t bear to drag you back here.”

Toto’s voice is fierce. “You could never be a burden. Don’t you know that you’re everything to me?”

You look at him sadly. “We were children then. The world’s changed. We’ve changed.”

“Not where it matters,” he insists. “My feelings for you have never changed.”

Jimmy, who’s been hovering by the door, speaks up. “I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy.” He slips out, closing the door behind him.

Alone now, Toto takes in your gaunt face, your hollow cheeks. “Why haven’t you been eating?” He asks softly.

You look away. “Times are hard. The children need it more than I do.”

“And what about what you need?” Toto demands, his voice breaking. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help you?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve built a new life. I’m just ... I’m just a relic of the past.”

Toto cups your face gently, turning it towards him. “You’re not a relic. You’re the love of my life. The only thing that’s mattered all these years.”

You search his eyes, seeing the truth there. “Oh, Toto. I’ve missed you so much.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get you better and then-”

But you shake your head weakly. “It’s too late for that, my love. I can feel it. I don’t have much time left.”

“Don’t say that,” Toto pleads. “You can’t give up. Not now that we’re together again.”

Another coughing fit overtakes you, more violent than before. When it subsides, you look at Toto with a strange mix of sadness and wonder.

“You know,” you murmur, “I’ve had the strangest dreams lately. Of us, together, but in different times, different places. Is that mad?”

Toto’s breath catches. “No, it’s not mad at all. I’ve had them too. Like ... like we’ve lived this love before.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps we have. Perhaps we always will.”

Toto brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Then let this not be the end. Fight, my love. Fight to stay with me.”

“I’m trying,” you whisper. “But I’m so tired, Toto. So very tired.”

He climbs onto the bed, gathering you carefully in his arms. “Then rest. I’ve got you now. I’m not letting go.”

You nestle against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in years. “Toto?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you tell me about your life? What you’ve been doing all these years?”

Toto hesitates, not wanting to speak of his less-than-legal activities. But he sees the genuine interest in your eyes and begins to talk, telling you sanitized versions of his rise to power.

As he speaks, he feels you relaxing in his arms, your breathing becoming more even. For a moment, he allows himself to hope.

But then you look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of love and regret. “I wish we had more time,” you breathe.

Toto’s heart clenches. “We will. You’re going to get better, and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

You shake your head slightly. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Look after them. Jimmy and the others. They’ll need someone now.”

Toto nods, tears flowing freely now. “I promise. But you’ll be here too. You have to be.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Kiss me? One last time?”

Choking back a sob, Toto leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, desperate kiss.

As you part, you look into his eyes one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” you whisper.

And then you’re gone, your body going limp in Toto’s arms.

For a moment, the world stands still. Then Toto’s anguished cry echoes through the small room, a sound of grief so profound it seems to transcend time itself.

As he holds your lifeless body, Toto makes a silent vow. He will find you again, in this life or the next. For a love like yours cannot be bound by the limits of a single lifetime.

Monaco, 2024

The bustling energy of the paddock swirls around you as you make your way through the crowd, one hand resting protectively on your slightly swollen belly. Despite the chaos, you move with confidence, knowing that at any moment ...

“There you are, mein Schatz,” a familiar voice calls out. Toto appears at your side as if by magic. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern. “I’m fine, Toto. Just taking a little walk. The baby’s been restless today.”

Toto’s hand immediately joins yours on your belly, his face lighting up with wonder. “Is that so? Well then, little one, let’s find a more comfortable spot for your mother, shall we?”

Before you can protest, Toto is guiding you towards the Mercedes hospitality area, his arm protectively around your waist. As you walk, heads turn and whispers follow. It’s still a novelty for many to see the usually intense and focused Toto Wolff so openly affectionate.

“Toto, really, I’m okay,” you insist, even as you allow him to lead you. “You don’t need to fuss so much.”

He gives you a look that’s equal parts love and stubbornness. “Nonsense. It’s my job to fuss over you. Both of you.”

As you enter the cool, quiet Mercedes suite, Toto immediately starts arranging pillows on a plush sofa. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Perhaps a foot massage?”

You laugh, settling onto the sofa. “A water would be lovely, thank you. But then you need to relax. Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto waves a hand dismissively as he fetches your water. “The team can manage without me for a few minutes. You and our child are my priority.”

As he hands you the water and sits beside you, you can’t help but marvel at the man before you. Toto Wolff, the billionaire, the racing mogul, the man whose mere presence commands respect throughout the paddock — and here he is, fussing over you like a mother hen.

“What are you thinking about?” Toto asks, noticing your contemplative expression.

You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Just ... how different things are now. How perfect. Sometimes I feel like we’ve been waiting lifetimes for this happiness.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face, a mix of recognition and wonder. “You know, I’ve had that same feeling. Like we knew each other before.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine. “It’s odd, isn’t it? But it feels ... right, somehow.”

Toto pulls you closer, his hand resting on your belly once more. “Perhaps we have known each other across lifetimes. And perhaps this is the one where we finally got it right.”

Just then, you feel a strong kick from the baby. Toto’s eyes widen in delight.

“Did you feel that?” He exclaims, his usual composure completely forgotten.

You laugh, wincing slightly. “Trust me, I felt it. I think someone’s eager to join the conversation.”

Toto leans down, speaking directly to your belly. “Hello there, little racer. Are you practicing your podium celebrations already?”

As if in response, there’s another kick. Toto looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

“I never knew I could be this happy,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me everything. A love I never thought possible, a family of my own ...”

You cup his cheek, touched by his openness. “Oh, Toto. You’ve given me just as much. More, even. You’ve given me a home, a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.”

Toto turns his head to kiss your palm. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always feel that way. Both of you.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Toto sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

“Come in,” he calls out, his ‘team principal’ voice back in place.

A nervous-looking intern pokes his head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the strategy meeting is about to start. They’re asking for you.”

Toto nods. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.”

As the intern leaves, Toto turns back to you with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Will you be alright here?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine. Go, lead your team to victory. We’ll be right here cheering you on.”

Toto stands, but hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I could have someone bring you some snacks or maybe a blanket if you’re cold ...”

“Toto,” you say firmly, but with affection. “Go. We’re fine. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”

He leans down to kiss you softly. “Alright, alright. I’m going. I love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” you reply, giving him a gentle push. “Now go be the brilliant team principal I married.”

As Toto finally leaves, you settle back into the couch, your hands resting on your belly. You feel another kick and smile.

“Your father’s quite something, isn’t he?” You murmur to your unborn child. “But don’t worry. No matter how busy he gets, no matter how many races he wins, you and I will always be his greatest victory.”

As you sit there, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the paddock, you’re filled with a sense of contentment so profound it almost overwhelms you. After so many lifetimes of heartache and separation, you and Toto have finally found your happily ever after.

And as your baby kicks again, you smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.

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