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wndaswife · 29 days ago

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there’s no need to be brave | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Sometimes things get to be too much, but you know you can always go to Wanda to feel safe and loved. She reminds you how important it is for you to be taken care of.

Word count: 3575

Tags: it’s all fluff, some humour, age gap, lightly implied age regression during one scene, wanda takes care of you and kisses you and is patient and loving and gentle

The front door rattled softly as you unlocked it. From the kitchen, Wanda looked up from her dinner preparation, anticipating your presence after coming from your afternoon classes.

She gave you the keys to her place a month ago when your classes didn’t align as much with her work hours as it did for your last semester. Now that you had the keys, it was easier to see each other without your schedules aligning.

You set down your bag in the living room, shedding your coat on top of it, before practically sliding your feet over to the kitchen lazily. You didn’t even lift your head; it was only the vague figure of Wanda that you needed in order to navigate around the counter and wrap your arms around her body.

Her arms were trapped under yours, forcing her to wiggle them out of your hold so she could hug you.

“Baby, are you alright?” she asked, her voice light but her tone concerned.

You buried your face in her chest. You had meant to reply to her question, but as soon as you opened your mouth you no longer wanted to answer, so you mumbled incoherently into her soft breasts.

“Sweetheart,” Wanda tried again, leaning back to get a look at you.

Finally, you lifted your head, squinting as you looked up at her in the light of the kitchen. She immediately cupped your face with both hands, brushing back your hair.

“I hardly got any sleep last night,” you said, straightening so your face wasn’t in Wanda’s chest anymore but now facing her.

Her eyes followed yours as you looked around the kitchen while you spoke. One hand dropped to your shoulder, her thumb stroking you softly while her other hand remained cupping your cheek.

“Yesterday, I woke up at eight to study, then last night I slept for two hours before my nine a.m. class, then took an hour nap between classes, and my head hurts and I think I’m getting tunnel vision and I’m scared I’m gonna start hallucinating soon, because isn’t that a sign of sleep deprivation?”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something, but you continued.

“At least I’ve eaten, but I don’t know if it’s enough, because I was still hungry while coming over here, and I can’t go home because they’re fixing the hydro so I don’t have running water until midnight — I don’t know why they scheduled the construction in the middle of the day — and I want to shower, and it was so cold outside–”

Suddenly the hand that had been cupping your cheek was over your mouth, and you finally looked at Wanda who was staring at you with a gentle gaze. Upon meeting her eyes she smiled at you, so subtly that the corners of her eyes crinkled just slightly.

Slowly, she put down her hand then wrapped that arm around your waist, holding you against her. She dropped her other hand from your shoulder and held your hand.

“You can shower here. My water is working just fine,” she said slowly. “I’m preparing dinner now, so stay over tonight and we can eat a proper meal together. If you’re hungry now, anything in the kitchen is yours.”

She watched your expression relax and your shoulders untense, and she smiled a little when you tried to shuffle closer although you were already standing against her.

“Take another nap, baby. Shower in my room then sleep in my bed.”

You nodded wordlessly.

As your face relaxed and when your mind seemed much less troubled, Wanda took a good look at you. She stroked your hand with her thumb.

“You do look tired…” she said sympathetically. “Please go up to shower — it’ll relax you. Are you still hungry? I can make something for you before you have your nap. I’ll go up after you’ve finished showering.”

Internally, you felt like teasing her for how she was very much talking to you like you were her child. But oh, how badly you just wanted to be taken care of like a child.

You nodded again, looking up at her.

Then, at the sight of her face, her pretty face and her beautiful eyes, and her soft hair and the slope of her nose and the line and curl of her lips, you leaned in for a kiss.

Wanda pulled back slightly, and your eyes darted up from her lips to her eyes. She let go of your hand, lifting her own in front of your face, wiggling her fingers a little.

“Don’t lick your lips; I was handling raw meat before you came in and I touched your face,” she warned, smiling guiltily.

You looked over to the counter and saw Wanda’s bowl of ground meat, and around it, her spices and other vegetables she had yet to prepare.

At the sight of your to-be dinner and the idea of Wanda preparing it and cooking it all up, you laid your head on her shoulder and buried your face in her neck.

“Oh, doll…” she whispered, cradling the back of your head as you tucked your face under her jaw.

“Now you’ll have to shower, right? Because I rubbed raw meat on your neck?”

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could hear Wanda’s grin forming even though your face was buried in her neck. When she spoke next, you were at least sure that she was speaking while grinning.

“Is that what you were doing?” she asked. “You could’ve just asked.

Wanda tucked your hair back, exposing the side of your face. She kissed your temple. “Give me a few minutes to finish with the meat, so I can refrigerate it. Wait for me upstairs.”

After some minutes, Wanda found you sitting on the edge of the tub waiting for her. She smiled at the sight of you wrapped in a towel, looking up at her as she entered.

Eagerly, you all but lept from your spot and turned to run the shower, testing it with your hand until it became warm while Wanda undressed behind you.

When she had taken all her clothes off, she approached you and undid your towel before laying it on the sink.

You turned, wrapping your arms around her, feeling her smooth bare skin immediately warming your own upon contact with her.

“I washed my face,” you informed her before squeezing your eyes shut and puckering out your lips.

A soft kiss was then pressed to your lips, your lips relaxing from its puckering. Wanda’s hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone tenderly.

“My sweet girl…” she whispered softly as she parted from the kiss.

In the shower, Wanda washed your hair with her shampoo instead of yours.

“I’m… feeling kinda…” you started quietly, looking down and playing with your fingers.

“Mmm?” Wanda hummed, busy with massaging her soapy fingers against your scalp.

“Kinda… little.”

”I know, baby,” she replied softly. “Just let me take care of you.“

You wondered if Wanda, too, imagined that she heard your smile when it formed bashfully at her response, like you had in the kitchen when you heard her grin.

Earlier, you had been planning to tell Wanda about the other things which had made you feel upset, like how you were behind in your readings and how you were almost certain you did terribly on your midterm paper.

But in the shower, all those things just disappeared.

A part of you worried for just a moment that Wanda might even think you were being silly or overly dramatic for being upset over only the things you mentioned earlier, so you figured you ought to tell her the whole story.

But when Wanda turned around and let you wash her hair, you knew there was no way she’d ever think that about you.

It made you feel like crying.

Really, you didn’t know why you felt the urge. Maybe it was because it was just a touching sentiment, or because you were overcome with how safe and cared for you felt, in the steam and warmth of Wanda’s shower, her hair in your hands, and her bare body just a few inches from you — Wanda just a few inches from you.

When she turned around to start washing your body after her hair was rinsed, her eyes fell upon your face for just a moment, and within that moment, you could tell that she noticed you looked like you were about to cry.

And when you really were about to cry, you didn’t notice yourself; it was Wanda’s immediate comforting that made you realize you were.

Then, at your soft hiccups, you knew for sure you were crying.

Her arms surrounded you, and you buried your face in her neck. Your damp cheeks blended with the wet warmth of her skin, making your face feel flushed.

“Shh, it’s okay now,” she spoke gently. Her arm wrapped around your waist had her warm palm against the middle of your back, her other cradling the back of your head. “I know it gets hard…”

You sniffled and opened your eyes, watching the water drip from the ends of Wanda’s hair through your bleary eyes.

“You’re tired and frustrated,” she said. “You just need to be taken care of, right?” She felt you nodding against her shoulder slightly.

“There we go. It’ll be alright, honey. All you need is a little bit of time.”

Your arms squeezed around her waist.

“I need you,” you insisted.

“I’m here, Y/N.”

Though you felt you didn’t need anything to eat until dinner, Wanda prepared a snack for you anyway, insisting that you eat something. You asked her to wake you up for dinner because you didn’t want it to get cold before you woke up.

You wanted to wear her pajamas too, so she picked out a comfy pair for you. You were practically beaming as you snuggled down into her neatly-made bed.

After a few minutes, Wanda came up with some apple slices and some peanut butter on the side. She told you to get to sleep right after eating, and you weren’t even worried you’d accidentally keep yourself up.

With dinner being prepared and Wanda promising to wake you up once it was finished, you snuggled into her bed, promptly falling asleep in her pajamas after eating the snack she put together for you.

Over dinner, now that you felt far more rested but still extremely eager to sleep cuddled up to Wanda soon, you spoke about her day, and very little about yours, since you didn’t want to think about it.

She sat beside you, touching you occasionally, her hand rubbing your shoulder as she spoke or playing with your fingers that were laying on your thigh.

She asked how you liked dinner, and scooted closer to you when you told her how much you liked it.

“When was the last time you had a full meal, baby?”

“A full meal?” you asked, thinking about what qualified as a full meal, let alone a meal at all.

She squeezed your hand as she took a drink from her glass. “One cooked in a kitchen, and warm.”

“Instant noodles in a pot, two evenings ago.”

“That’s not a meal, Y/N.”

“Then… A week and a half ago. When I went for dinner with my friends.”

Wanda let go of your hand and tucked your hair behind your ear. “You need to eat better, baby. Can you come over more often?”

“Can I sleep over more?”

The corners of Wanda’s eyes crinkled when a smile immediately formed on her face, the tips of her ears rising just a twitch. “Please do,” she answered.

While you were brushing your teeth, Wanda came up after getting the dishes into the dishwasher. She insisted she do it herself while you got ready.

She smiled at the sight of you still in her pajamas, brushing your teeth in her washroom. She approached you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, your mouth full of minty suds.

When you had both finished getting ready, you crawled over the bed and laid your head down in Wanda’s lap and brought your knees to your stomach, like a puppy. She set her phone down and laid her hand on your head, massaging your scalp and forehead softly.

Satisfied and relaxed, you closed your eyes.

“I miss you when you’re busy at school, baby…” she said softly, her voice gentle and a little sleepy.

You opened your eyes and turned onto your back so you could look up at her. The lamp on her nightstand embraced her in a warm glowing outline around the crown of her head through her hair, making the soft glow look like a halo.

“Really…?” you asked.

Her warm hand cupped your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin. She nodded. “So much. I think of you all the time, Y/N. Our phone calls aren’t enough.”

You turned your body and pressed your face against her stomach.

After a few silent moments of Wanda brushing her fingers through your hair, she asked, “Why don’t you take care of yourself? You need to eat and sleep properly, honey.”

You muffled indiscernible words into her stomach, not really trying to give an answer.

“Are you listening, Y/N?”

You spoke, intelligibly this time, albeit still against her stomach. “Yes, I’m listening.”

“Let’s get into bed,” she said, taking your chin in her hand and making you look up at her. She smiled down at you and you turned your head to kiss her palm.

You weren’t ready to stop clinging onto Wanda even after she turned off the lights and you got under the blankets together; your arms were wrapped around her waist snugly, your head tucked under her chin. Her hand gently stroked the back of your head.

Your breathing was in time with Wanda’s in a way that when her chest expanded as she inhaled, your shoulders relaxed as you exhaled, creating a subtle push and pull of your bodies’ contact.

“I think I might’ve done really badly on my midterm paper,” you said quietly, turning your head and opening your eyes, looking at the subtle shifting of her shoulders.

“Really?” she asked, continuing to stroke the back of your head. “Why?”

The heavy ache in your chest that arose when you normally thought about your terrible paper had somehow dissipated, and in its place a dull and hollowed out feeling where you expected to feel its weight.

You tightened your arm around Wanda’s waist, pressing your chest against hers.

“I knew it was terrible as I was writing it. I was just in such a rush. I didn’t take the time to plan it — nothing,” you explained. The words felt like a confession, finally releasing what you’d done without denying it to yourself and storing it deep within that ache that was presently missing.

“What happens if you get a bad mark?”

For the first time, you genuinely thought about a future that took place after receiving the paper’s grade. “I guess I’d have to talk to a teaching assistant about it… Or my professor.”

Wanda hummed in acknowledgment. “It’ll be alright, Y/N. It’s a midterm for a reason; it's not your final, and you’ll certainly have ways to make up for it.”

“But it’s just stupid…” you mumbled, hiding your face in Wanda’s chest again.

She pulled her head back a bit and looked down at you. “What’s stupid, baby? Come on, look at me when you’re talking.”

“No, I don’t want to,” you replied childishly.

Wanda gave in with an exhale through her nose and rested her chin on top of your head again. “Can you tell me what’s frustrating you?”

“I’m just stupid. I’m supposed to be able to do these things properly, and I can’t.”

“It’s not that you can’t, Y/N, it’s just that you couldn’t for that assignment. Don’t call yourself stupid.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” you insisted. “You weren’t there with me when I knew I could’ve done better.”

Above you, Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sighed. She took your chin in her hand and forced you to lift your head from her chest.

You looked up at her.

“Why do you want me to scold you so badly, hm? You want me to agree with you and tell me you should’ve and could’ve done better, and that you’ve done a terrible thing?”

The suggestion wasn’t entirely far from what you had been trying to do, but the idea of Wanda actually doing it made you upset. You felt your bottom lip tremble a little.

“Why won’t you just make me feel bad about things? Just make me feel bad about things I do.”

Pads of her fingers pressed against your cheeks and Wanda frowned as she looked down at you.

“I would never do that, Y/N,” she told you softly.

You couldn’t tell if you felt more defiant and stubborn, or overwhelmed again by the realization of how much Wanda loved you.

“Why not?” you asked.

Her hand combed down your hair until she was holding the side of your face in her hand. “I love you. You’re loved when you’re with me. That’s why.”

You rubbed eyes with the back of your wrist, feeling an onset of tears. You didn’t want to cry — it wasn’t the time, and all you’d been doing since you arrived was cry and whine and want Wanda’s attention.

“Oh, baby…” Wanda whispered, kissing your forehead and pulling your head against her chest again. “I know. You’re just feeling overwhelmed.”

You wrapped your arm tightly around her waist again, now feeling her shirt dampening against your cheeks.

“I will always be proud of you, Y/N,” she spoke against the top of your head. Her hand rubbed your upper back. “I will never scold you for falling behind or making a mistake when you tried your best. And I know you did. You’re a hard worker and a good girl.”

At her words, your silent tears grew into soft sobs and pathetic whimpers which you didn’t care enough to try and silence.

Wanda asked with a sweet and patient tone, “You’re a good girl, right, sweetheart?”

You nodded against her chest.

She pulled away and lifted your face up with two hands. She wiped your tears away and craned her head down to kiss you softly.

When she pulled away, you sniffled and immediately wrapped your arms around her neck to give her a hug.

Several quick kisses were pressed to your cheek, and Wanda hugged you tighter. You knew that her arms were hugged around your torso, but it really felt like she was hugging you all over.

“You will always have somewhere to go to be loved and cared for, Y/N. I love you so much,” she said, her lips brushing against your temple.

You were a mess of sniffles and whines. “But I can’t come over as much as I want. I wish I was with you all the time. I wish I didn’t have to go anywhere, ever.”

“I know, sweetheart. I wish you could stay here all the time and wake up with me every morning, and be here every time I get back from work. I wish neither of us had to do anything.”

Her fingers combed through your hair. “But I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. I’m not upset when you can’t visit. I know you get busy and I want you to do well in school. You’re a very smart girl.”

“I love you, Wanda,” you said. Your words were slightly muffled but your lips were close to her ear, so she could hear. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you in my life. I love you so much.”

Wanda’s arms tightened slightly around your body. “I love you too. I don’t know what I’d do without you either. Talking and being with you is my favourite part of every day. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

For the rest of the night, you and Wanda talked about how you’d figure out having you come over more. Now that you had keys to her place, you could come whenever you wanted, even if she was at work, and stay until she got home.

She suggested you come over just to eat between classes even if she was out, but you said you weren’t ready to be at her place without her yet; it would feel too lonely and you wanted to see her every time you came over.

In the morning, Wanda made you breakfast while you brewed the coffee. You didn’t want to miss her when she left for work, so you woke up early and decided to study on campus before your first class, so you could leave with her and spend more time with her in the car.

Everything in the world and in your life made so much sense when you were doing your daily tasks with Wanda, as if your ordinary life was meant to be aligned with hers.

This was the woman you were supposed to spend your life with, and it was no wonder everything felt better when you were with her.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

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aureatelys · 26 days ago

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adore you

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 3k a/n: written for @mggslover's 1k celebration event, congrats baby! i initially wrote 5k, hated it, and basically rewrote all of it but i swear i still had fun writing this. i hope you enjoy <3

summary:

Weird. You're acting like my boyfriend. - God Is a Freak, Peach PRC Your boss has essentially become your best friend. What the hell does Derek mean he looks at you a certain way?

c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, age gap ofc, feelings realization, reader is oblivious and tipsy but is a consenting party

read below or on ao3 here <3

“So, you and Hotch, huh?”

You had just finished putting your coat up, stepping through the massive entryway of Rossi’s mansion, when Derek approaches you with that familiar shit-eating grin and hands rubbing together like he’s scheming something.

You blink up at him, confused. “Yeah… he gave me a ride.”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still wearing that smile that made you want to lovingly punch him. “Yeah, I saw that. I meant, you and Hotch aren’t…?”

You squint at him, because you really aren’t sure what he’s hinting at. Also, a glass of wine has been calling your name since you started getting ready and Derek is very much in the way of that. Hotch was always annoyingly punctual, and today was no different because you were honestly about to open up a bottle when you heard his car pull up in the driveway. “We aren’t what?”

“Sweetness. You’re really trying to tell me you and Hotch aren’t together?”

You choke on your spit, coughing so loud in your fist that it echoes down the entryway and gathers the attention of Rossi and Hotch at the end of it. You wave them off when they both give you equally alarmed and concerned looks while Derek laughs heartily, like the asshole he is.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss at him, slapping him on the shoulder as he nearly makes himself tear up from laughing.

Derek puts a somewhat apologetic hand on your arm as he steers you to the kitchen and pours you a glass of red, finally. “Hey, I see the way he looks at you, I just wanted to make sure I’m up to date on everything.”

And that catches your attention.

Your chest still aching from your coughing fit, you give him another perplexed look. “What? He looks at me the same way as he looks at everyone.”

Derek’s face morphs into a nervous, almost uncomfortable one as he starts slowly backing away into the living room, as if you were an unpredictable dangerous animal. “I think I’m gonna… look for Garcia.”

And then he turns on his heel and is out of the kitchen before you can blink, leaving you with your lone glass of wine and the sounds of laughter emanating from the patio.

You’re still so fucking confused, because you and Hotch were only friends. In fact, you can almost consider him your best friend with the way you two are spending so much time together, even on the weekends.

One late night spent in his office to work on reports that were due the next day that you had procrastinated on and ordering Chinese food eventually turned into a habitual thing, now spending the last hour of the workday every night in his office. Then, he started inviting you to the park to play with Jack who had apparently been asking for you, then staying for dinner because Hotch was not eating the way he should’ve been and him and Jack didn’t deserve to eat pizza rolls with mac and cheese every night.

It's been a couple of months and now, you can honestly say you two are nearly attached at the hip. You’ve tried to tone it down for the office, because you knew you would get teased, and clearly you were right.

But dating Hotch? Honestly, the thought had never occurred to you.

You’ve been single for over a year and you were okay with that, because at least the job kept you busy. And you know for a fact that Hotch hasn’t even thought about dating since Beth moved a couple of years ago.

The sudden thought of Beth, her pretty blue-green eyes and perfect hair, causes a sour taste to form in your mouth. You had never met her, having only technically heard good things about her, but every time you thought of her or someone mentioned her in passing, you felt… upset.

For no reason.

When you glance at Hotch from where he’s talking with the rest of the team on the patio, you catch his gaze for a brief second before he’s turning his head back around to chuckle at something Rossi says.

You feel your heart start to race, your blood rushing through your ears, because what the fuck did Derek mean when he said Hotch looks at you a certain way? You were telling the truth when you said you’ve only noticed him looking at you platonically and nothing more.

Sure, Hotch was conventionally attractive, handsome even. You guess he hit all your boxes in a guy; tall, capable hands, and pretty brown eyes. He was a good boss, a good man, and was always putting other people first before even thinking about himself. He had an intense sense of justice, loves children, and would do absolutely anything for his team and even beyond for Jack.

He has a nice laugh once you break down his walls. For all he’s meticulous at work, his house is absolutely chaotic and it takes you nearly an hour sometimes to get him and Jack ready for a soccer game. He doesn’t prefer to cook but he seems to enjoy it more when you’re in the kitchen with him, laughing at his technique and groaning about the lack of certain utensils.

The sudden realization that you like Hotch, your boss that is older than you by 20 years, hits you like a ton of bricks. You nearly snap the stem of your wine glass, something like panic and mortification climbing up your throat before you could help it.

It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s normal to have a crush on someone you spend time with on a regular basis and is conventionally attractive. You can deal with that.

But the absolute possibility that Hotch doesn’t want you romantically was very real. In fact, it had to be the only possibility. You were younger and less experienced, both romantically and professionally. The only reason that he’s been spending so much time with you was because you needed guidance and reassurance as the newest member of the team.

He doesn’t look at you any differently than the others. That’s it. Derek has no idea what he’s talking about.

You take a shuddering deep breath, quickly composing yourself because, hello, you work with profilers. Which meant you couldn’t avoid or hide from Hotch tonight, no matter how much you wanted to.

When you make your way out to the patio to join the others with a full glass of wine and you spot the only space left in the circle was between Spencer and Penelope, you internally thank whatever God was out there. The sound of them talking over each other about something inane was oddly comforting as your eyes met Aaron’s from the other side of the circle.

His eyes appeared golden from the numerous fairy lights strewn across Rossi’s backyard, making his face appear softer and younger. You’re not sure how it took you this long to realize he was so handsome.

He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you were okay because, somehow, he’s grown to learn your facial expressions like the back of his hand, which means he most likely will catch on to you having a silly juvenile crush on him.

You give him a weak smile, raising your glass slightly before taking a large gulp of it. You’re glad that Rossi is Rossi and that he doesn’t spare any expenses when he throws his parties, the strong cherry flavor refreshing compared to your cheap boxed wine you’re used to. You don’t even remember what you were celebrating tonight, or if you were even celebrating anything at all and this was just another much needed get together after case after case.

You catch something soft in Hotch’s eyes that makes your chest pang painfully as he raises his own glass of whiskey before taking a sip. No one else has noticed, too enthralled by their own conversations, so the intimacy of the private moment doesn’t escape you, in fact making you even more anxious.

It was going to be a long night.

You are absolutely going to give Derek an earful on Monday morning.

It’s entirely his fault that you’re not enjoying Rossi’s party to the full extent, his words swimming in your mind.

Now, you’re psychoanalyzing and second-guessing everything Hotch does.

You had made sure to walk alongside Penelope on the way to the large round table for dinner, somewhat consciously as you continued to avoid Hotch but also because she was rambling about the show you suggested she watch. Spencer was on the other side of you, interjecting whenever he could, and you made a mental note that Hotch was still on the other side of the circle between Rossi and Tara.

So imagine your surprise when, after you tear your attention away from Spencer’s ramblings and back to Penelope, you’re met with Hotch’s pretty eyes and woodsy cologne instead.

“Oh, hi,” you say, hoping he doesn’t hear the shakiness that’s suddenly overtaken your voice as that familiar panic starts to crawl up your throat. This wasn’t going to be good.

“’Hi.” The corners of Hotch’s lips quirk up, eyes softening, and what the fuck is going on. “Can I sit next to you?”

You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. This man cannot be healthy for you. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

And then he’s pulling out your chair for you.

And it’s not anything new—he pulls your chair out for you all the time, in the conference room, in his dining table when you made not-pizza rolls, and even at restaurants the afternoons after Jack’s soccer games. You’ve never thought anything of it, but tonight, after your impeccably timed realization, your brain feels like it’s going to implode.

He’s just being a gentleman, that’s all.

“Thank you,” you manage out, heat starting to come to your face. Before Hotch, no one’s ever pulled your chair out for you. It’s nice.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, because of course not, just scoots your chair in closer to the table before he takes his seat on your right.

And he’s sitting really fucking close to you.

Have you always sat this close to each other before? You must have at least once during those late nights in his office, poring over case file after case file.

Not only could you feel the heat of his body just from sitting next to him, but his arm kept brushing up against your bare one while he ate, because of course you had to sit on the left side of a left-handed person. Every brush of the sleek fabric of his green button-up against your bare arm sent shivers down your spine despite the summer air, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

His hand kept brushing against yours as you ate and your eyes are drawn to how large his hands are as he handles his fork and the thickness of his forearms, having had rolled up his sleeves earlier. If you searched closely, you could find scars scattered over them through the dusting of hair, undoubtedly from his time on the job.

You don’t realize you’re staring at his Rolex and the way it glints underneath the lights, until Hotch is suddenly leaning into you. “Are you okay?”

Jesus Christ, hearing that smooth voice speaking lowly in your ear, breath warm as it fans over your cheek, causes all of the air in your lungs to escape. Has his voice always been that smooth, attractive?

When you risk a glance at him, conversations around the table slowly fading into the background, his face is merely inches from yours. His brows are pinched in concern and lips are pressed into a flat line. There’s something dancing in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

You clear your throat. “Sorry, I think the wine is just getting to me.”

He chuckles low underneath his breath. “Good thing I’m driving.”

And then he’s knocking the back of his hand against yours, the briefest brush of skin that causes electricity to zing up your spine, and then he’s back to listening intently to Derek and Emily’s bickering over who cheated at the last game of charades.

At this point, you think Hotch is able to read your mind. Why else would he be touching you, be sweet on you, if not to torture you?

You try to wrack your brain through these past couple of months, trying to find whether Hotch touching his hand to yours has happened before or any other sign that he actually is attracted to you. You come up short.

You chalk it up to him loosening up from his whiskey. He’s already moved onto water, because he was your ride, after all, so maybe this was a fluke. A one-off.

But it’s not a one-off. In fact, you think you’ve honestly died and gone to Heaven after suddenly tripping and breaking your head open in the entryway after Derek spoke with you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were actually on a date with Hotch, sans the rest of the team.

He must have noticed your distracted mood, because he’s making sure you’re included in almost every table conversation by glancing at you and giving you a smile that has started to make something flutter in your stomach. He’s participating minimally like usual, content to listen, but whenever he has a comment or thought he wants to share, he’s leaning in and sharing it with you.

He's leaning in to top of your wine, reaching over the table to get more of those green beans you like, and once even knocking his knee against yours underneath the table when you looked especially lost in thought while staring at your plate.

And then when the team has moved into the living room for charades, Emily wanting payback against Derek, it somehow gets even worse.

You’re quick enough to be the first to volunteer to not play due to there being an odd number of players, thus requiring Hotch to play. Everyone cheers teasingly, because Hotch is always quick to volunteer himself out of games, content to watch.

You blame the copious glasses of wine you’ve consumed and the decadent filling dinner, warmth thrumming through your entire body, when you poke at Hotch’s considerably firm bicep. “Show us what you got, old man.”

There are resounding oohs and aahs from the rest of the team. Something fuzzy settles in your chest when Hotch rolls his eyes good-naturedly at you and stands up from where he had sat next to you on the couch to JJ’s team.

You continue to nurse your wine, pleasantly buzzed, as you are thoroughly entertained by your team’s antics. Emily and Rossi argue at least 3 times, Penelope gets significantly close to having a private meeting with HR, and Hotch continues to stare at you.

Or at least, you think he’s staring at you. The alcohol has started making you second guess things even more than you already were. Because for some reason, despite JJ sitting on the other side of the living room and being on a team with her, he moved to sit in the empty spot next to you after the first round.

He’s definitely participating in the game, even in second place behind Penelope and Derek, but you swear you feel his eyes on you now more than ever.

It’s distracting as you try to follow the game and guess along with everyone else. This time, the right side of him is nearly molded against your left side, pressing into you so hard that you’re starting to sweat from how much body heat he’s radiating.

When you glance at him to try and catch his eyes, he meets your gaze steadily. His hair is starting to come undone, a few strands falling against his forehead, and his dimple seems to have made a permanent appearance from how much he’s pretending not to laugh at his team’s antics.

It’s nice to see him enjoy himself—a flush rising up his neck and shoulders relaxed. Although you understand he has a certain image he maintains for his team, it’s become familiar to you.

By the time it dwindles close to midnight, there’s a chorus of yawns around the group. Penelope’s the first to call it, stumbling to grab a hold of Derek’s arm and dragging him with her out the door to drive her home, ruining your initial plans to catch a ride home with her instead of Hotch. After that, everyone starts to say their goodnights and exchanging hugs despite the chance you may get called on a case as early as tomorrow morning.

“You ready to go?” Hotch leans to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning over you again and causing heat to rise to your face.

“Absolutely,” you exhale, clutching the water bottle that Hotch retrieved for you in the middle of the game, hoping the breathiness in your voice could be blamed on how late it was.

When you get to Hotch’s car, heart full and warm after spending another wonderful evening with your makeshift family, he opens the passenger side door for you.

You think you’re going to lose your mind if he keeps this up. How are you supposed to stop having a crush on Hotch when he keeps doing things that justify that crush?

“Do you need to stop anywhere for anything? Are you hungry?”

You blame it on the wine despite the fact you’ve been drinking nothing but water for the past hour, thanks to Hotch silently getting you and only you a water. Your body and tongue feels loose, inhibitions naturally decreased, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter if the soft lights of the driveway highlight the sharp angles of his face or the way his woodsy cologne has infiltrated your senses.

“Weird, you’re acting like my boyfriend or something.”

The silence that ensues is deafening. Your brain takes forever to catch up with you, but then you’re suddenly struck with humiliation and dread. You mind starts to race, as best as it could, when you realize that you may have just royally messed up the best job you’ve ever had and the best group of people you’ve ever met.

Before you can backtrack and say that you were just joking, Hotch carefully says “Do you want me to be?”

“What?” Wow, you really can’t hold your alcohol well, why did you drink so much wine?

And then Hotch is stepping closer, into your space, and you’d be worried that the rest of the team was going to see if the car door wasn’t shielding you from view from the front of the house. You get a whiff of whiskey on his breath again, but when you meet his eyes, there’s not a hint of the same full body dizziness you feel.

“Was I not being direct enough?” There’s amusement sparkling in his eyes, eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s politely trying to hide a fond smile. He’s teasing you.

This Hotch is the one you’ve grown to become familiar with over the past several months. Charming and unafraid to tease you when you’re away from prying eyes. Hotch is a private person, always has been, so it’s not a surprise that him essentially torturing you tonight was his version of being direct.

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

Hotch ducks his head bashfully to chuckle. It’s ridiculously endearing and you want to tug him closer and touch him all over. “I’ve been trying to flirt with you all month so I’m guessing I didn’t do a very good job.”

You stare at him as if he grew a second head, suddenly feeling much more sobered up than 5 minutes ago. Clarity sluggishly comes to you. The various invitations to spend the night or go out to dinner without Jack comes to mind. The touching had steadily increased, but you had assumed it was just due to Hotch getting more comfortable around you.

For a profiler, you weren’t very good at noticing what was happening right in front of you.

Hotch may be a ridiculously patient person, clearly since he’s been content to flirt with you for apparently a month while you didn’t notice, but you were not. You knew what you wanted. The wine still thrumming through your veins just gave you that little extra push.

You place your palms on his chest, relishing in the subtle firmness you can detect through his shirt, and you wonder if that’s his heart you feel thumping erratically or your own. “I promise I’m not that drunk and am fully aware of what is going on right now.”

Hotch hums and places his hands on your hips, the heat of him searing through the fabric of your dress. His eyes briefly flit to your mouth before back up at you. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

Instead of providing a snarky response, and because you know Hotch wouldn’t make the first move since you did have some to drink, you finally lean in to close the distance between you two to kiss him.

It’s soft, chaste in a way that makes you feel pleasantly warm all over, the barest tendrils of electricity tugging at the pit of your stomach. The intensity of how much you like him, how much you adore him, nearly barrels you over, but Hotch’s grip on you tightens, steadying you. His lips only slightly move against yours, as if briefly testing the waters, but it does nothing to quell the sudden desire slowly twisting inside of you.

When he pulls back, chest only marginally heaving, you instinctively chase after him. He chuckles again, low and comforting, as his hands come up to hold you still by the shoulders. It shouldn’t feel as nice and soothing as it does. “I should take you home.”

“Are you coming with me?” You sincerely hope that Hotch doesn’t question you and your boldness tomorrow. Again, not entirely your fault.

“I’ll walk you to your door, how about that?” As if he already wasn’t going to do that.

On the drive back to your apartment, the tight ball of panic and uncertainty in your chest quickly unfurls and is replaced by affection, tenderness, and promises of the future. Hotch’s hand, large and protective, doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way home.

You make a mental note to send Derek a gift card and thank you note on Monday.

#posting this and immediately going 2 sleep gn #lovers1kevent #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #mine #criminal minds fic

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a-b-riddle · 10 months ago

Text

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #angst #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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no-144444 · 2 months ago

Note

HI!!!! I am such a huge fan of your work, could i request something with charles where the reader is max verstappens sister but she's a pop star (think sabrina carpenter) and charles and her are dating on the dl but he goes to her concert and gets spotted and then everyone goes crazy with fan theories and they hard launch with the music video, and max is pissed because a, she's off limits to drivers. and b, why didn't they tell him.

anyways, that was just my thoughts, thank you girl!

don't dim your light- c.l

summary: you have a secret boyfriend and an album coming and you realise that hiding yourself and your life only makes you feel like shit.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! verstappen! popstar! reader

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Being the sister of Max Verstappen meant two things:

1: You were famous.

2: You were off-limits to every single other driver.

Too bad that you’d fallen for your brother’s rival (/husband???). Charles was perfect, everything you’d ever wanted in a man. He was kind, caring, thoughtful, and most of all… fucking gorgeous. It had been months of sneaking around because, while Charles didn’t feel scared at all to drive a car around at top speed, actually risking his life, he was scared of your brother. Like, scared to death.

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“Bebé,” he whined, holding you against him. “My love! Do not leave me here!”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling, as you pushed his hands off of you. “I have to catch my flight!”

“But if we don’t spend Christmas together I won’t see you until the summer!” he groaned.

“The joys of dating a popstar, I guess,” you shrugged, grabbing your suitcase. You pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled. “I’ll see you in Monaco, alright?”

He frowned then pressed his lips to yours as hard as he possibly could. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you big sap,” you smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“You are so mean to me, you know that?” he huffed.

“Bye Charles!” you called after yourself, leaving his Monaco apartment.

It had been 7 whole months of bliss with Charles. Obviously, you’d met him prior to the first date, knowing him quite well from all the stories Max had told you, but shockingly, it took a Puma brand ambassadors dinner for him to make the first move. He was evidently very nervous, but you’d started to love his weird dorky qualities. He was sweet, and kind, and that’s all you really cared about.

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“London, can we make some noise?!” you cheered. The stadium roared back to you. You had done it. You’d sold out the O2 for 4 whole nights. You were one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. “Are you guys ready for one last song tonight?” they screamed back at you. “Alright, this one is new, I hope you like it!”

The intro to Bed Chem started, and you knew everyone already knew it (it had been leaked a few months ago), but you danced and sang it exactly how it was meant to sound. One thing you loved about being on stage is how free you felt. All of those people were there to see you, which melted your heart. You loved every single fan you’d ever come across and appreciated every single one of them. They made you, they made your success.

As the song finished, ‘new album out next week! xxx’ flashed behind you on the screen, and the crowd went wild.

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You walked into your dressing room, exhausted from the night, and slightly hurt that despite offering to fly them out, none of your family came. You understood, Max’s career was important, and it was his last chance before the regulations changed to get the most out of the car. He wanted his fifth so badly, mostly because he wasn’t sure he was going to stay around from 2026 onwards. He had a family now. He had a baby and P to take care of. He didn’t like the media circus that F1 had turned into, or the fact that it was a popularity contest. Your entire family had been built around Max, and you knew why, but it didn’t make it hurt any less when you were reminded of the fact that you were just the second kid.

“My love!” Charles cheered, wrapping you up in his arms, startling you. “You were incredible! You were amazing!” he pressed kiss after kiss to your neck and cheek as you hugged him back, ecstatic that he was here.

He had taken the time out of his insanely busy schedule, on a race week, to come see you on the literal other side of the world. He truly was the best boyfriend in the world.

“What are you doing here?” you chuckled, shocked by his presence. “You should be getting ready for Japan!”

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine in Japan, I wasn’t going to miss you performing!”

You pulled him closer once again, pressing your lips against his. “I fucking love you,” you whispered, trying to make your voice sound steady.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pulling back. The way he looked at you. All the love in the world. Like you hung the fucking stars just for him. He adored you, and you felt it. You felt bathed in his light the second he walked near you, that’s how much he loved you. “Don’t cry,” he frowned, wiping the tears you hadn’t even noticed were falling, away. “I hope they’re happy tears,” he teased.

You nodded, burying your head in his chest. “They are. They really are.”

He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. “I’m glad.”

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y/nverstappen

liked by charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 8,983,837 others

y/nverstappen SHORT N SWEET OUT ON THE 6TH OF APRIL BITCHES!!!!!!! ROYAL COURT (with lady broski) OUT ON THE 8TH OF APRIL BITCHES!!!!

comments

user8: prepare to be SICK of me

brittanybroski: ROYAL COURT MENTIONED 💯💯💯💯💯💯 -> liked by y/nverstappen

user999: SHE'S GLOWING

user7: not the grinch picture 💀

maxverstappen: Congratulations Y/n! -> liked by y/nverstappen

user66: DID ANYONE ELSE SEE WHO WAS AT HER SHOW????? -> user92: LITERALLY! -> user933: charles what is you doing here loca?

calebhearon: SHE'S STUNNING -> liked by y/nverstappen

oliviarodrigo: and she's serving. as per usual. liked by y/nverstappen -> user88: LOCA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE -> user22: THE GIRLS ARE HEALING.

user09: now i need to know who bed chem is about... -> user44: thick accent... (charles leclerc) -> user94: officer it's this one! -> user88: on MY cellular device? -> user21: me when i'm delusional.

user802: BED CHEM ATE SO FUCKING HARD OMFG

user213: where is her family? she sold out the O2 for 4 consecutive nights AND is releasing her second album, and they're nowhere to be seen? jos 'i support my daughter' verstappen my ASS. -> user2342: right? It's so unfair, her entire life has been built around max and he couldn't even go see her on the biggest night of her life while pierre gasly and charles leclerc can? It's bullshit.

user90: she's so hot i cannot do this anymore.

user87: charles lurking in the likes...? -> user36: tbf a lot of the drivers follow her, it could be a coincidence.

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f1gossip

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, and 890,848 others

f1gossip Drivers Charles LeClerc and Pierre Gasly were seen at a Y/n Verstappen concert in London this week! They seemed to be enjoying themselves, though there was no sign of Max anywhere!

comments

user88: pierre and lando are messy

user99: WHERE WAS MAX? THIS WAS Y/N'S BIG MOMENT???

user929023: OMFG BED CHEM IS ABOUT CHARLES WTF -> user97437: no it's not she can't steal my husband -> user4: she can, and she did

user772: he looks so drunk in the last photo lmao

user942: WHAT A SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND!

user847: Pierre's sunglasses are taking me out rn 💀 -> pierregasly: what's wrong with them? -> user88: ARE CHARLES AND Y/N TOGETHER??? -> pierregasly: 🤷🤷🤷

user92: they'd be so cute together!!!!

user902: omfg max would KILL him if they're together

user935841: do we all remember the interview where max said he'd fucking shove any of the drivers off the track if they went for his sister? like does charles have a death with? is he not despressed enough?

user91234: charles when i catch you

user7: if he stole my wife, i'm going to be pissed (i've never met her and she doesn't know i exist)

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"People saw you today," you yawned, laying in bed with Charles. The concert was over, and Charles had surprised you with his presence, though it was more than welcome. You were both lying in the luxurious hotel bed as you settled down for sleep, his arms wrapping around you.

He nodded. "I know. I just thought people would assume we're friends though."

You rolled your eyes. Bullshit. “You’re such a bad liar,” you chuckled as his jaw dropped at the accusation.

“I am not lying!” he stressed, but his smirk gave him away.

“Charles LeClerc, you wanted people to find out, didn’t you?” you gasped, hitting him with a pillow.

“I did not!” he hit you back.

What ensued after was a pillow fight that ended with you holding him down against the bed, and his lips on yours. The amount of alcohol you'd both consumed meant that the kiss was messy, but amazing all the same. It was all teeth and tongue, all passion, all Charles.

“You were so pretty up there,” he whispered against your mouth, completely at your mercy. “Felt like you were singing just to me.”

You chuckled, pulling back. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, biting his lip. “So perfect,” he sighed.

“I still think you wanted people to find out,” you argued, getting off of him.

“Well of course, but that’s-��

“Charles!” you squealed.

"My love!" he chuckled, holding you closer. "How in the world, do you expect me to try and hide the fact that I love you-?"

He was interrupted by your phone ringing. You groaned, he groaned, yet you got up and sat up, grabbing it, answering without looking at the caller id.

"Are you dating Charles?" Max's voice sobered you up pretty quickly. You stuttered for a moment, then laughed.

"W-what?" you questioned. "No."

He huffed from the other side of the phone. "Are you sure? What was he doing at your show?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't know, maybe he actually enjoys my music and wanted to come see me? Is that so outlandish?"

"You know that's not what I'm saying."

"Yeah, you're not even interested in my life enough to ask. The shows were great, thanks for asking dickhead," you scoffed before ending the call and blocking his number. He was so... self-involved. He'd stopped caring about you and your interests when you were only kids, too focused on the plan to notice that fact that you were there, and that you adored your big brother. Nevertheless, he didn't care, so you had to stop caring too.

"Are you alright?" Charles whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

You nodded, too fragile to answer. You knew you'd break down crying if you answered verbally, so that would have to do.

"I'm sorry," he pressed gentle but grounding kisses to your neck and back as you gave yourself a moment to soak it all in. "I know how hard this is on you. I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to apologise for loving me," you whispered, your voice breaking.

He chuckled. "I'll never apologise for that," he smiled against your skin. "I'm just sorry that your family are... difficult."

You nodded, leaning into him. "They are."

"You were radiant up on that stage tonight," he beamed. "Don't let them dim your light, please baby."

You nodded. "You're right. No more dimming lights."

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

The song was simple and from your next album, it could be your second single of the album, and you knew it was catchy and good. It was a good plan, a great plan, even. You and Charles would hard launch your relationship to the world with a music video appearance. Not only would it show the world your relationship, it would also be a great way to generate buzz for your upcoming album. Win-win. The idea was sexy and cool, and shooting it was as much fun as you'd imagined (aka, a lot of kisses, a lot of him touching you, and a lot of retakes), and by the end of the shoot you were convinced it was your best video yet.

You weren't going to tell Max before the video came out. You weren't interested in getting two different lectures, so you decided you'd prefer one long one. Charles supported your decision, and didn't tell anyone shit until the night the video came out.

By then, it was fair game.

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charlesleclerc & y/nverstappen

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, oscarpiastri and 6,893,234 others

charlesleclerc isn't she lovely? please, please, please mv out now.

comments

user92: YOU'RE JOKING

user23: WHAT A PERFECT COUPLE

user9535: stood up and applauded.

user76: this is my niche and i'm so here for it.

brittanybroski: MY WOMAN, NOOOOOOOOO

user024: she's perfect. she is so perfect.

user924084208: can i be her when I grow up? (i'm 34)

user3: she's kind of a slut... -> user9: please please please for the love of god shut the fuck up

user45: idk who I want to be more -> user83: charles. -> user82: charles. -> user08424: charles. -> user36824: charles. -> user24: charles. -> user1: charles. -> user56: charles. -> user75: charles.

pierregasly: KNEW IT FROM THE START ->charlesleclerc: is that because we told you or...? -> pierregasly: trying to steal my thunder rn is CRAZY -> charlesleclerc: trying to make this about yourself rn is CRAZY -> y/nverstappen: BOTH of you are acting like idiots, please refrain

y/nverstappen: ilysm -> charlesleclerc: i adore you -> user923: sleeping on the highway tonight!

lewishamilton: :) -> charlesleclerc: thanks bud :)

user834: what does he see in her?

user2: what does she see in him?

user5: is she aware of his cheating scandals in the past? -> user34: it's almost like people can grow and change! hope this helps xxx

user645: she is about to get her heart broken

user2321: she couldn't have picked someone more... suited to her? -> user8: mate she's a popstar and the sister of Max Verstappen, what about Charles LeClerc isn't 'suited' to her?

francocolapinto: 😍😍😍 -> user830: what is blud doing?

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y/nverstappen

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, pierregasly, and 4,873,933 others

y/nverstappen just 2 days until the album, here's so photos of yours truly to hold you over 💋

comments

user935: anyone notice how max has been MIA and angry since her London shows?? -> user5684: i'm employed what does this mean? -> user33: stop trying to stir shit up bro

charlesleclerc: beautiful girl liked by y/nverstappen

user88: max looked like he was ready to kill charles today lmao

user93940924: she's glowing

user6: not mentioning charles i see... -> user9: girl fuck off -> user4: they've been publicly dating for 2 days, calm down.

user09: sigh... i could treat you better y/n... -> charlesleclerc: no you could not. -> pierregasly: let's reel it in buddy ffs -> charlesleclerc: what??? is defending my honour cringe now? -> pierregasly: not just now, it always was.

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When the album launched, you were nestled in your apartment, alone. You were so excited for a night nice in, but of course, your plans were foiled by a knock on the door, and an outpour of dutch from your brother's lips.

"Fuck off Max," you shouted from your side of the door. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I'm missing a race for this," he sighed, his voice softer than you'd heard it.

You opened the door, and he did something unexpected. He hugged you. A full-blown tight hug, the kind he hadn't given you since you were a kid.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrugged, pulling out of the hug. "I wasn't interested in the lecture."

"But I know Charles, I could've... I don't know, helped?" he paced around your kitchen. "I just... I don't understand why you felt like you couldn't tell me."

"Max, you said you'd shove anyone off track if they went for me, so I don't understand your disconnect. I'm happy with Charles, like really fucking happy. He makes me feel great, and he cares about me. He loves me. And I'm so sick of trying to make myself smaller so that i can fit into your life. I adore you Max, genuinely, I do. You're my big brother and I love you, and you should be celebrated for your incredible accomplishments, but so should I. I'm not going to sit here and make myself any more unhappy just because it'll make your life easier. I-I won't do it. I want to be able to post my boyfriend, go support him at races, and everything else all the other girlfriends can do. I'm not going to hide him or myself to make you more comfortable," you pushed through the tears building behind your eyes, and stared him right in the eyes. He needed to hear that your life wasn't just about him.

He was quiet for a moment. "I'm happy for you, and I'm sorry that I'm not very good at... being there for you."

He looked uncomfortable. He'd never been very good with his emotions, so that was probably the best you were going to get.

"Thank you," you smiled. "And you really didn't have to miss a race for me, but thank you anyways."

He nodded. "I care about you. I want you to be happy," he explained, looking down.

You were both silent for a few seconds.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you offered.

He looked up and smiled. Same old Max. Same old you.

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y/nverstappen

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 6,243, 563 others

y/nverstappen: and she's out! thank you all so much for the love, mwah!

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen: Very proud!

charlesleclerc: i love you so much you're so pretty (please please please let me come over tonight)

landonorris: SHARPEST TOOL IS SUCH A BANGER liked by y/nverstappen

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navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

883 notes · View notes

thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

Only You || Legolas

Summary: Request: Can you do a elf reader x Legolas where he's finally home in mirkwood after the quest? Maybe Gimli is with him and he's like 'i see why you always talked about the lassie.' or something funny that exposes Legolas for how much he really likes her. He then confeses and asks to court her or something sweet pleaseee?? My fav fluff writer! Thank u!

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words and sweet as heck request. Really love this one. I didn't edit it too heavily so please be wary of general writing mistakes! Hope you all enjoy my fav elf imagine :)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.9k +

TW: Pure fluff? No LOTR triggers

You had finally gotten a free evening to yourself after training for the better part of every evening for the last year with your father, Girdirion. He had been training you relentlessly after Legolas had left of the quest his father, King Thranduil, had sent him off on. That was over a year ago. You hadn’t heard much other than they had made it to Minas Tirith a few months ago.

Your father suddenly saw you as defenseless without your longtime friend at your side. Being the kings most trusted advisor, he had been trained for centuries and was a formidable fighter. It wasn’t until after Legolas had left that you had realized how serious the threat to middle earth was. Your father must had realized it too as he worked you to the bone, training you at every chance he could.

It was only after King Thranduil received word that the ring had been destroyed and his son was heading home did things begin to change. Your father still made you train but it wasn’t at every waking moment any longer. Tonight, was one of those nights that he had given you off as he had meetings to attend to with the king.

Time felt too slow as you waited for Legolas to return. He promised he would. You knew he would. He was all the way across middle earth, but you just couldn’t seem to wait any longer. You longed for you best friend, who meant much more to you than just a best friend, to come home.

As soon as you settled on your bed to begin reading the novel you had been meaning to finish there was a quick knock at your door. Who could that be? You weren’t expecting anybody at this hour after dinner. Begrudgingly, you set the book down just as you had gotten comfortable and made your way over to the door.

When you opened the door you scrunched your face in confusion, “Father? What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the king?”

He nodded, “I was. Then we got interrupted. There is somebody here I think you may want to see.” His smile let you know exactly what you were thinking. Legolas was home. He was back in Mirkwood after nearly a year and a half away. Sure, it wasn’t that long of a time for you in the scheme of your lifetime but it did feel like the longest year of your nearly two thousand years in middle earth.

“Legolas?” You tore out of your room not waiting for his response as you made your way to the throne room. You heard your fathers deep laughter behind you before he jogged to catch up with your lighter than air pace.

Once he caught up to you he had that knowing smile on his face. He had watched the two of you dance around the obvious feelings each other had. You never thought you were good enough to be with the kings son. He never thought you were interested in that way. But to everybody on the outside looking in it was rather obvious the two of you were destined to be together. Even if it was taking longer than expected. A thousand years longer than expected. See, King Thranduil and your father had agreed they would bless the union between the two of you should it come naturally. But neither had the heart to force it. He and your father knew as good as anybody these things had to find their way on their own, naturally. Even if it drove the two elder Ellon’s mad.

“Indeed, your elf has made it home.” He spoke as the two of you walked, much faster than normal, towards the kings room.

Before you opened the massive wood doors you turned to him with a sly smile and a hint of a blush dotting the apples of your cheeks, “My elf?”

Your father raised his eyebrows at you, “Go on then.” He pushed you forward ignoring your question.

When you pushed open the doors you couldn’t find the familiar blonde hair of your best friend. Even as you walked closer to the throne you looked all around the hall and only spotted King Thranduil who was giving you the same smirk your father just did. What were they up to? Where was Legolas? And why was the king looking at you like he knows something you didn’t?

“I apologize my king.” You bowed unsure of what else to do. When you turned to see if your father had followed you in you were left biting your lip seeing the door closed without him in the room. What was he up to? “My father said…”

Thranduil put his hand up pausing you right in your tracks, “Legolas is out in the gardens with a dwarf. A dwarf!” He sounded more frustrated than excited to his son after the time away.

But you cracked a smile instead. That was so him. He was anything and everything his father was not. The two of them could not have more different personalities. Your best friend was the one to push boundaries no elves would or could do seeing that his father was the king, “A dwarf you say? That sounds like him.”

Thranduil studied your happier than he’s seen you in an entire year expression full well knowing it was because Legolas was back from his grand quest. Thranduil rose from his throne before walking down to you. Having to look up to him because he was so tall all you could do was wait on his word.

He pointed his hand towards the entrance to the kings private gardens, “Go, you audience is rather impatiently waiting on you.” He gave you a knowing smile before retreating towards the door you had originally come in, likely to go find your father. Not wasting anymore time you made a beeline towards the doors that led to the private gardens you so rarely got to enjoy. He must have deemed it enough of a special occasion to grant access to not only you, but a dwarf as well. You knew Legolas was behind that as well. He was the only one to get the king to agree to something he might not want to do.

For the second time in a few moments, you threw open the heavy wooden doors leading out to the gardens. It did not take you long to hear the pair before you saw them. You paused hoping to catch just a brief moment between the two of them before you made your presence completely known. As you suspected the dwarf had Legolas distracted from hearing you walk out.

“Look at ya lad. Pacin’ like a horse.” The unfamiliar voice chuckled. You had a feeling the dwarf poked fun at the ellon more often than not.

You just knew he was rolling his eyes, the beautiful blonde prince he was, “I am not Gimli.”

But the dwarf just kept laughing, “Ya’ weren’t even this nervous when we rode up to the Black Gate.”

“Would you quiet down dwarf. She will be out momentarily.” That sounded just like the elf that had left a year and a half prior. It was almost too easy to get him worked up and the dwarf called Gimli certainly enjoyed playing into it.

“The little lassie has you this nervous huh?” You? You made him nervous?

Legolas let out a huff, “Gimli!” And you knew that was your queue to help spare the ellon from his friend who seemed relentless. You already liked Gimli from the sounds of it. You shut the door behind you louder than necessary to signal your arrival.

Taking a deep breath, you walked forward suddenly terribly nervous after those comments. What was Gimli playing on? Why would he be nervous to see you? You didn’t want to get your hopes up on feelings as you buried those away centuries ago. Your crush for the ellon grew slowly the first thousand or so years you knew him. Truly organic in the best way possible. Childhood friends to training partners to friends then best friends after it all. Once your training to become a healer had completed you had a sneaking suspicion all his injuries in the field were so he could come see you after some time away. He would only request you. Straight refusing the other healers help when offered. He would wait for you.

But then it just stayed like that. You thought it could grow into something more, but it dawned on you over the next few centuries his father had a say in who he courts and marries. Why would King Thranduil allow his son to court you of all elves? Sure, your father was his most trusted advisor, but you were no political gain in marriage. So you did what you did best, buried the feelings deep and bottled it all up.

The two of them quieted quickly hearing the door close. When you turned the corner you finally spotted your prince after far too long apart paired with an adorably red-headed dwarf who was staring right at you. You however were staring straight at Legolas as your small smile turned into a massive one. There he was, as handsome as ever, standing right there in front of you after too long. The longest either have you had spent apart from each other.

“Legolas.” You grinned before pulling him into a tight hug. It was when he gave you a big squeeze back that you simply just melted into the ellon completely forgetting you had an audience yourselves.

“Aye lad! You left out the detail of your Y/N being quite the beauty.” Gimli spoke up from beside you breaking the trance the two of you seemed to be under. You giggled once you pulled away from him seeing the look of horror cross his face at his friends comments.

You turned to the dwarf feeling the nerves wash away. You had the advantage here as Gimli seemed to want to torture your friend, “Hello. It is lovely to meet you. I am Y/N. Daughter of Girdirion, King Thranduil’s advisor.”

He pointed at you before narrowing his eyes at you, “Do you hate dwarves as much as his father does?”

You shook your head, “Hardly. You are actually the first dwarf I am meeting. I do not get away often.” You knelt down making yourself level with him, “You are much cuter than made out to be.” That earned a few stumbling words and a rather mighty blush to the warrior who seemed to have nothing but words. You managed to render him speechless.

This earned a snicker from your favorite ellon, “Elf got your tongue there Gimli?”

That comment must have meant war between the two of them. The dwarf cocked his eyes up to his friend, shook his head then turned back to you who was now back to standing instead of crouching, “Lady Y/N. It is lovely to finally meet you too. I feel as though I already know ya lassie.” He grinned knowing exactly what he was about to do.

You looked at Legolas with curiosity framing your face before returning your attention back to Gimli, “Do you?”

“Aye.” He nodded, “Legolas here would never shut up about ye. Y/N this. Y/N that. Y/N would love this. Y/N would hate that.”

You knew your cheeks were surely aflame with embarrassment just as Legolas’ were, “We have spent quite some time together over the years.”

But Gimli wouldn’t have that, “I think it has something to do with you lassie. The way you look. The way you dress. The way you seem to occupy his every thought.”

“That is enough.” Legolas finally chimed in giving his friend a hard stare telling him to get the hell out. But that only egged the red head on further. Your eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them before Gimli relented.

He bowed his head, “My lady.”

Echoing his actions you responded, “Gimli.” Before turning your attention back to the prince. Your eyes finally were able to scan his features. Not a hair seemed out of place. He was exactly as you remembered.

“Welcome home.” You gave him your biggest smile feeling like you could finally relax after seeing him alive and well.

He wasted no more time before pulling you into a second bone crushing hug. He had never been so forward causing you to let out a slight stutter in surprise of his actions. It was the last thing you had expected from him. But then again, who knew what he went through out there. Legolas was a strong warrior, but you knew how deeply this could impact anybody who had to go through it.

“I have missed you.” He whispered into your ear not letting his arms go from around you. He had no clue how his words were affecting you in that moment. Suddenly you felt that stupid little crush, that was surely love at this point, bubbling up from the depths of your heart that you had long since locked away.

When he pulled away after a few moments he took the time to look you over just as you had moments prior. He didn’t drop his hands from around your waist though, simply holding you loosely in his embrace. You had never felt his eyes or his hands on you heavily before or that you had noticed in the past, “I have missed you beyond words Legolas. I have spent a year and a half filled with the dread of the thought you may never come home. Seeing you here is the greatest gift Eru Ilúvatar could have bequeathed.”

It was then that Legolas knew just how deep your feelings ran for him just as they had run for you. He too had spent the better part of a thousand years being absolutely in love with you, his favorite elf, but making no indication of it. For he thought you may have eyes for someone else. He could not risk losing you in the event you said ‘no’ to his request to court you. But by the way you were looking at him he knew that was wrong. Your love laced eyes could not break away from his gorgeous blue ones.

He knew he needed to take the next step with you. Gimli was right. His dwarf friend spent the better part of the journey home convincing him he needed to ask the question he had been dying to ask you. He wanted to court you. Spend the rest of his middle earth life and the next one with you. He had never been so sure of that. The thought of courting another elleth felt wrong. It was you. It was always going to be you.

“Gimli was not lying, my lady.” Even though it came out as a whisper your ears could pick it up with no problem.

That shocked you. Was he admitting the same thing that you were? Did he have feelings for you too? “Pardon?”

He grinned seeing your dumb struck face, “You do in fact occupy my every thought. You are the reason I am here now. I fought for middle earth, yes. But for you more. Thinking of your smile pulled me out of the darkest of times

Your lips parted in utter shock at his admission, “Legolas, I…” You were at a loss for words as you processed his confession to you. Your heart was giving you away completely though as it beat faster than it ever had before.

He continued seeing as you were rendered speechless, “It was only ever you. It was only every going to be you, my love. You are my very best friend Y/N. I would never want to continue this life with somebody who was not you. It is only you. It will only ever be you.” He paused finding the courage to say what had been on the tip of his tongue for centuries, “I love you.”

Your jaw might have been on the floor at this point, “You love me?”

He nodded with a nervous expression, “More than you will ever know.”

That was all you needed before you walked forward, butting yourself right against his chest, “That is a relief my prince. As I love you too. More than you will ever know.”

Euphoria. The truest form of euphoria pulsed through your body as you too admitted what had always been so hard to admit.

His expression melted to that of pure elation. Gently he placed his hands under your chin, cupping your face so carefully, “May I begin to court you, my love?”

“I would be so honored Legolas.” Your head was turned up as you looked into his eyes for likely the millionth time. It was different this time. Charged with love and lust. Like you were looking at a new Legolas. One that you could get to know at a much deeper level.

He brushed his thumb over your lips sending shivers racking throughout your body, “Only you. Only ever you.”

Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu

2K notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 3 months ago

Note

Your Declan fic was SO good. That’s how u discovered your account and I can’t wait for the other Rivals fics you have coming up!!!

If you are still taking requests, I would die for protective Declan O’Hara in any situation. Love your stuff!!

man of the hour.

the sexiest thing about a man is his moustache morals.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - cursing. a little violence and a quick injury description.

word count - 2k

authors note - I truly believe that one of the sexiest things about declan is the fact that he stands up for what he believes in… don’t underestimate the aphrodisiac powers of strong morals, ladies and gents. need him to stand up for me sometime🧎‍♀️‍➡️. anyway this ended up much softer than I meant it to be (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing) <3

masterlist. inbox.

“Can I get you another drink?”

You laugh as the man swings an arm around your shoulders, the heavy weight of it almost taking you down.

“You’ve asked me that four times in the last five minutes, Bas. Thank you, though.”

“Just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

He’s yelling into your ear, both of you fighting to raise your voices above the noise of Bar Sinister.

“I’m always having a good time with you,” you tease, leaning into his side. “I’m alright, Bas. Promise.”

“You need to let loose for once in your life.”

“I’ll let loose on a day I’m not working.”

“You’re always working.”

“What can I say? He’s hard fucking work.”

You both look over to your boss, who’s currently animatedly telling Declan a story. Rupert’s gesturing so exaggeratedly that people are ducking out of the way, both men laughing and completely oblivious as beer and whiskey splash all over the floor.

Bas presses a kiss into your hair, squeezing you tightly.

“I don’t know what he’d do without you.”

“Well, he never has to find out. We’re stuck with each other,” you chuckle. “Best job I’ve ever had, surprisingly.”

“I won’t tell him you said that,” Bas winks, laughing.

The sound of multiple glasses smashing has the both of you whipping your heads around, trying to find the source of the commotion.

“Shit. I’ll see you later, darling. Come and find me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Course.”

Bas disappears into the bustling crowd, leaving you standing at the bar. It’s absolutely manic, people packed in to the rafters and bumping into each other left, right and centre.

You’re about to make your way over to Rupert when a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you backwards so hard that you stumble over your own feet. You tug your arm away, finally getting a good look at the person who’s responsible.

“Spencer?”

“Oh, so you do remember me then?”

“… What? We were together for six months, and I don’t have short term memory loss, so… yes.”

“I just meant because you’re hanging around with the elite now. The rumour is that you’re working for Rupert Campbell Black.”

“I am working for Rupert Campbell Black. It’s not a secret, Spencer. I’m his aide and assistant. I’m working for Venturer, too, helping with their public relations. And you are… what? Still pretending to work for your father when you really just spend your days drinking and betting?”

“I do work for my father.”

“Of course you do.”

He steps forward, getting into your personal space.

“What are you doing in here, Spencer? You don’t even live in Rutshire.”

“Thought I’d pop in, see if you were here. Wanted to see if there was any truth to the rumours.”

“Well, you’ve put the rumours to bed now, haven’t you?”

“Not the only thing that’s been put to bed,” he murmurs, just low enough so you only catch half of it.

“Pardon me?”

Your entire body is taut with tension, nerves alert and heart racing. You can only imagine how uncomfortable you must look, praying that someone notices sooner rather than later.

“Which one are you sleeping with, then?”

“Spencer-”

“No, come on. You finished things with me, so there must be another man. Who is it?”

“I’m finished things with you - eight months ago, mind you - because you’re an immature prick who’s so pretentious it makes you deeply unlikeable. There was no other man, I’d just rather be single than be with you.”

His chest puffs out as he starts to go red with rage, anger bubbling up in his veins. You know that you’re not completely unsafe here in this room full of people, but that doesn’t calm your anxiety in the slightest.

“Which one is it, hmm?” his voice is raising, getting louder with every passing minute. “Which one looks like your type?”

He points at Seb first, quirking an eyebrow.

“Him?”

When you don’t respond, he moves on to pointing at Patrick.

“Him?”

You shake your head almost imperceptibly, wishing that the ground would swallow you up.

“Oh my god… it’s him, isn’t it?”

His eyes have landed on Rupert, who’s still stood across the room. Your boss is looking at you, now, quickly assessing the situation you’re in.

“You’re fucking Rupert Campbell Black?!”

The entire crowd of people goes silent as he practically screams it, everyone’s heads turning to look at you.

“She’s… what?” Rupert, Declan and Bas all ask at the exact same time, hilariously in sync.

“Fucked your way up to the top, did you? Classy as always.”

Spencer goes to continue his sentence, but hits the floor suddenly with a heavy thud. You look up to see Declan shaking off his hand, chest heaving with adrenaline. Your ex boyfriend has a busted lip, blood dripping down his chin and onto his awfully unflattering shirt.

“It’s called hard work, you arrogant little prick. Not that you’d know.”

Declan’s Irish accent sounds stronger than usual, coloured with fury and aggression. Bas has dragged Spencer to his feet, both him and Rupert holding him upright.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near here again, I’ll do more than just split your fucking lip. You understand?”

Spencer nods, clearly still dizzy from the impact of the punch. He’s dragged outside before anyone can say anything else, the crowd returning back to their drinks as if nothing ever happened.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Declan links his fingers with yours before you can register what’s happening, pulling you through the bar and out of the back door. You take a seat on the brick wall, legs dangling over the edge as you kick your feet.

“You okay?” he asks as he sits down next to you, just close enough that you can feel his body heat.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You don’t really know how to feel, confused by the whole ordeal.

“He seems like a nice boy.”

You laugh suddenly at the bad joke, shaking your head as Declan laughs with you. It’s not a sound you hear from him all that often.

“Sorry you had to punch him.”

“I didn’t have to. Kinda wanted to, though.”

“Me too.”

He bumps his shoulder into yours, looking at you carefully.

“I didn’t just hit him for a laugh, you know. I was worried he was going to hurt ya.”

“I was too,” you whisper, vulnerability bleeding into your tone.

“I’d never of let that happen. I promise, sweetheart.”

His hand finds yours again, fingers gently sliding in between yours. He rests your intertwined hands on his thigh, thumb rubbing patterns on your skin.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You sit in silence for a long moment, enjoying the way the warmth of his palm seeps slowly into yours.

“I didn’t think anyone had even noticed Spencer was there.”

“I saw as soon as he walked in, because I knew I didn’t recognise him. I tried to give you some space, thought maybe you were friends or something. Didn’t want to intervene and embarrass ya.”

“Ex boyfriend, if you haven’t already guessed. We were only together about six months all in all, about eight months ago. Don’t know what I was thinking, really. He’s fucking awful.”

“You can say that again,” he chuckles, hand squeezing yours. “Not sure what you ever saw in him.”

“Neither am I, anymore. I don’t know, maybe I just liked having someone really like me, as sad as that sounds. Dating is fun and exciting and… well, it’s supposed to be. God knows it isn’t, for me.”

Declan slides his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side to keep the evening chill at bay. You can hear the ruckus from inside, everyone in the bar carrying on as usual.

“I think you just keep choosing the wrong men, darlin’. Don’t swear off dating just because of a few bad apples.”

“I mean, I haven’t dated anyone since Spencer, and that finished eight months ago. I’d rather stay single than date any more of these posh boys who’ve never worked a day in their lives.”

He laughs, and the vibrations of it rumble through the both of you, settling into your bones. All you can think about is how warm he is and how good he smells and how if you leaned in an inch to your left, you could kiss him right on the cheek.

“What if it’s me?” you can’t help but ask quietly. “What if I’m the reason I can’t find someone?”

“What?”

“I mean, I work for Rupert - which I love - but my job is my life now. He’s a handful as it is, and now with all the Venturer stuff… all I do is work. And I know I’m not pretty like Taggie or powerful and bossy like Cameron but-”

“You’re beautiful.”

Declan stops you in your tracks, his interruption derailing your train of thought completely.

“I- what?”

“Sweetheart, the only reason I noticed that prat Spencer earlier was because I was already looking at you.”

“You were?”

“I always am.”

“… Why?”

“I don’t know, exactly. It’s like this… gravitational pull. You light up a room.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” you chuckle nervously.

“I wish it was.”

You don’t know what to say, so you lean further into his side, resting your head on his broad shoulder and breathing him in.

“I would have said something sooner,” he murmurs, “but Rupert would fucking kill me.”

“He’s not my keeper, Declan.”

“No, but he’s your boss. And for all intents and purposes, your big brother.”

He rests his head atop of yours, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“How’s your hand?”

“Perfectly fine,” he laughs, squeezing your thigh. “I’ll make a full recovery.”

“Thank God for that.”

Declan turns his body so he can look at you properly, big hands coming up to cradle your face. Neither of you say anything, waiting with tense anticipation for the other person to move first.

You surprise yourself by leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips, chaste and testing the waters. You begin to overthink everything the minute you pull back, worried that you’ve misread his kindness. As if he can read your mind, he tangles a hand into your hair and tugs you back into him, kissing you with a passion you’ve never experienced before.

His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily as you let him take the lead, happy to surrender the control to him. You’ve dreamt about this, late nights in bed spent wondering if the real thing would live up to your imagination. It definitely does.

Eventually, you both pull away, panting and flushed. You can no longer feel the chill in the air, the warmth of Declan keeping the cold at bay.

“Don’t tell Rupert,” he whispers, dirty smirk written across his face.

You can’t help but laugh, giddy off of the weight of the moment. Before tonight, you’d begun to accept that you might have been slightly delusional when it came to Declan - reading into his fingers brushing yours when you handed him something, him winking at you across the room, his palm pressing into your back as he walked past. Now you know - it wasn’t delusion. They were signals.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Secret’s safe with me.”

He pecks your lips again quickly before standing up, outstretching his hands for you to grab so he can pull you with him.

“You wanna go back inside?”

“No, think I’m done for the night.”

“Will you let me walk you home?”

You look at him smiling down at you all soft and sweet, and realise instantly that you’re in trouble. This isn’t something either of you are going to be able to just brush past. This’ll be haunting both of your memories every single day until it happens again.

“I’d like that.”

“Come on then, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

Declan links his fingers with yours, happy to let you steer him in the right direction. Neither of you say much. You don’t need to.

The way his palm fits perfectly against yours tells you both everything you need to know.

@lostinthefandoms11 @prettycoolgirl @buzzcutlip

don’t make me give the reblogs are invaluable to your writers speech again… i’ve given it one too many times… but you know the deal… reblog if you enjoyed and I shall write more for you <3

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obsessed-with-fake-men · 10 months ago

Text

After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?”

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop.

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing.

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket.

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette.

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist.

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils.

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out.

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time.

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm.

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands.

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat.

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks.

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say.

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath.

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you.

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease.

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink.

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment.

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes.

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls.

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair.

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length.

“On your knees baby.”

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls.

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts.

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.”

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties.

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole.

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back.

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man.

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.”

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand.

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night.

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a-pute11as · 4 months ago

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stubborn pt 2

summary - part 2 of stubborn, part 1 can be found here

warnings - 18+ MDNI smut, more stalker texts, angst, very possessive alexia, but a cute happy ending

words - 3247

i was sitting on the sofa inbetween cata’s legs with her arms wrapped around me, tears staining my face with a heavy chest. the blinds were down and the only light was coming from the salt lamp in the corner of the room and the tv that was being used as background noise. i could feel my phone buzzing, but that was the least of my focus right now.

“none of this is your fault, she used you” cata said, running her hand up and down my arms.

“i let it happen, i was upset about the incident, mapi and i went to a bar and she was there” i sniffled, “it was just meant to be a one time thing but she kept texting and I felt bad and it kept going from there”.

“at least you found out now rather than a couple months later” cata said, doing her best to soothe me.

“i’m going to sound like a terrible person but -“ i hesitated before remembering that cata wasn’t in a place to judge me, “i just needed a distraction from the whole incident” i confessed.

“i know how much that affected you, i think we could all see the way it hurt you” she agreed, her hands moving to run through my hair.

cata had been someone i instantly clicked with after moving to barcelona, quickly becoming my best friend. she helped me build all the furniture in the flat, helped with my spanish lessons and held me when i cried over a women who i thought i had a chance with. clearly not. cata did know all the techniques to help me open up and relax though, which i was very grateful for.

“did you ever talk to ale about why she did what she did?” i asked, sinking into her chest as i relaxed somewhat.

“nena, you’re so oblivious, she’s been into you for ages, she was just too scared about how that would effect your friendship” she explained, but that still didn’t answer my question.

“you know i won’t ever believe that until she’s the one saying it, but did you talk to her?” i asked again, pressing for an answer.

“honestly, no i haven’t” she replied, i instantly huffed, “but i did overhear her tell jenni that she wanted to make it right” she added.

as she finished speaking my phone buzzed again, prompting me to pick it up.

10m ago - unknown number : i don’t think you know how angry i am about what she did to you

she took advantage of what’s mine

i hate seeing my pretty girl hurt

now - unknown number : i need to know you’re okay

i’m coming over

my heart rate sped up, the texts reminded me of alexia. her words rang through my head, they matched the exact phrasing of the texts i had been sent earlier. surely it couldn’t be her?

and who the fuck was about to turn up at my apartment?

“everything okay?” cata said, peering over my shoulder, “wait who is that?” she asked, her voice filled with a sense of worry.

i hesitated to answer her, not really knowing the right answer myself “um, i don’t know” i whispered.

“you don’t know?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

i was quick to turn myself around to face her before i started my explanation on the possibility of who it was, until i was stopped by a knock on the door. my eyebrows furrowed at cata as i internally questioned how that happened so fast, which she shrugged in response. i motioned for her to open it, just in case my stalker had showed up and it ended up being creepy old man that was here to kill me and not the women i’d be pining over.

“alexia, uh what a surprise to see you here” cata said, as her eyes flickering between alexia standing at door and me still sat on the sofa.

my eyes instantly widened.

“can i come in?” she asked.

“I don’t think that’s up to me” cata said, awkwardly using her body to block alexia’s view of me.

“cata” she sighed, “can you just ask her”.

cata turned to me in hopes of an answer, causing me to nod in response. with that she moved out of the way to allow alexia to come in.

“well I’ll wait in my car” cata said, before picking up her stuff and heading out of my apartment to give us some space.

“hola” she said, pulling her same awkward stance from earlier, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as her eyes darted around the room, trying to find something to focus on.

“if we are going to speak about this could you at least sit down?” i asked, shuffling myself further along the sofa so she had somewhere to sit.

she sat down but still held an awkward demeanour, sitting herself just on the edge of the sofa, finding absolutely no comfort in the place we once would spend hours wrapped up with each other.

“please can you just give me a single reason why this all happen, one day we were spending every free second with each other and the next it’s like i don’t exist” i explained, my voice shaking slightly from the mix of emotions being felt throughout my body.

“i thought it’d be awkward” she replied, very bluntly, her voice staying monotone.

i sighed, “alexia, you’ve seen every part of me, why would a drunk kiss make it awkward, if you regretted it then i would’ve just ignored the fact it happened, but -“ she quickly cut me off.

“that’s why, i didn’t want it to be just a drunk kiss, i didn’t want you to see it as a mistake, i kissed you because i’ve wanted to do it for a long time, do you know how painful it was sitting here with you for hours and not being able to do exactly what i wanted to do”

“okay but -“ she cut me off again.

“no y/n, you had your go to speak, let me talk” i nodded, she took a minute to adjust herself, appearing more comfortable as she directed her body in my direction.

“we would always talk about the moments we would see each other at international games or champions league games before we really knew each other and how we couldn’t have expected to turn into such ‘good friends’ but i’ve never wanted to be just friends with you.” she took a deep breath. “do you know how hard it is to have you so close to me and not do exactly what I want to you, to not touch you how I want to touch you, to not be able to feel you in the ways i’ve dreamt about, every minute has felt like torture.”

before my mind could even process what she was saying, my body did, my legs instantly pressed together looking for some kind of friction as she spoke.

“the night we kissed was everything i wanted and more, seeing you exactly how i imagined, in my bed was like a dream, i could’ve pinched myself, but we were drunk and i wanted to remember every second of it and i wanted you to remember it too, i wanted it to happen, but not like that”

“ale i wanted it too, but why did you ignore me after? and then ask for space? that's what confused me” i admitted.

“i think i was ashamed of myself, it was like i lost out on my chance, i could’ve woke up, made you breakfast in bed and asked you on a proper date, but instead i rushed you out and ignored you, yo era una idiota, lo siento mucho. sé que no te merezco después de mis acciones, pero por favor perdóname.”

i sat with her answer for a minute, processing what she said and the apology that came with it, yet that didn’t explain everything, “can i ask you a question?”

“si, anything” she nodded, now leaning against the sofa as if she found some comfort in telling me how she felt.

“were the texts from you?” i questioned, raising my eyebrows.

“si” was all she responded.

“por que?” i asked, switching to spanish in hopes that it’d give her prompt for a real answer.

“i was jealous, you’re mine and that didn’t change just because we weren’t talking, every second I saw you with her or her hands on your body during recovery made me so angry and i assumed you blocked my number after i ignored you at the game so i needed to find another way” her reply was nonchalont, as if she would find it normal receiving the same kind of texts.

her jealously and possessiveness had my legs clenching together further, the heat spread across my body as her words went through my head, “i thought i had a stalker” i joked, wanting to lighten the mood, “it was pretty hot actually”.

i watched as a smirk grew on her face, her eyes darting down to my thighs as she watched me shuffle in hopes of getting the sensation i was desperate for.

“oh really?” she mocked, her head tilting, her tongue flicking across her bottom lip.

all of a sudden i shrunk in her gaze, any confidence i previously had disappeared, and all i could do is nod in response.

her hand reached out and met my cheek, her eyes flicked between my lips and eyes, “can i?” she asked. yet again all i could do was nod.

her lips instantly crashed against mine, any moment of tension had completely disappeared and the way our lips moved against each other felt natural and familiar. she kept one hand on my jaw as she tugged on my waist signalling me to move closer, she guided me as i straddled myself on her lap. her hands moved up and down my sides as i wrapped my arms around the back of her neck. her teeth grazed the bottom of my lip allowing her tongue to gain access to my mouth, winning the battle of dominance before it even started. my hips rocked against her lap, begging her to fulfil the throbbing feeling that was building between my legs.

one of her hands moved to the back of my neck as she tilted my head back to gain better access to my neck, her lips placing desperate but passionate kisses along my jaw before attaching themselves to the spot underneath my ear causing an aching explicit moan to leave my lips.

“tell me what you want from me” she whispered, her teeth grazing my ear lobe.

“i want you to fuck me” i whined, making no attempt to hide how desperate I was.

“be specific amor, how do you want me to fuck you?” she pressed, continuing her assault on my neck.

“ale please, do whatever you want to me, i just want you to make me feel good”

“eres tan buena para mi princesa, you sound so pretty when you beg” she was quick to use her strength to her advantage, standing up from the sofa with my legs wrapped around her waist and her hands resting underneath my arse as she walked into the bedroom and dropped me onto the bed.

“take it off” she demanded, lifting her own top over her head and discarding it on the floor.

i’d seen her without a shirt on many times, mostly in the team locker rooms, but this was something else. my eyes traced down her torso, taking in every part of her incredibly toned body, looking at her felt like looking at a piece of art that hung in the louvre yet as she stood in front of me all i could think about was how lucky i was to be the only one seeing this version of the art.

“i’ve waited long enough, don’t make me rip it off of you” she demanded, snapping me out of my gaze as she reached to tug at the hem of my t-shirt.

i was quick to comply, pulling my t-shirt over my head and shuffling my shorts down my legs before kicking them off the end of my bed and propping myself up on the pillows.

“i’d love to say i’m going to tease you and see how long you it takes to break you but i don’t think i can wait any longer” with that she was quick to join me on the bed, her knee pushing between my thighs making space for her.

her lips reconnected with mine as her hand traveled down my body, stopping at every opportunity that would heighten my arousal, gripping at my chest before letting her hand trail further downwards. her hands were quick to remove my underwear, granting her better access to what she wanted. she was quick to run her fingers through my folds.

“tan mojada para mi ya” she groaned. my face flushed a bright red as she spoke, but how else could i possible be expected to react with her on top of me, “did she make you this wet?” she asked, the jealousy prominent in her voice. i quickly shook my head, denying the claim.

“are you going to be loud for me?” she asked, her lips making their way across my chest.

“make me loud” i spoke up.

“oh amor, are you getting confident?” she replied, her head raised allowing her to look down on me asserting her control once again, leading me to feel as if maybe i overstepped with my words.

“maybe” i muttered, barely above a whisper.

“don’t get too confident or you won’t like the consequences, i want to hear everything, vale?” she raised her eyebrow, waiting for my response but the possible threat was enough to make me quiet and only nod in response.

my compliant nod was enough for her to reattached her lips to my chest, leaving marks as she went, whilst her fingers began to circle my clit causing my hips to arch towards her hands in hopes to increase the pressure and luckily enough for me she did exactly that.

she propped herself up on her elbow and watched as her hand pushed me closer to the edge. it didn’t take her long to slip two long slender fingers into me, curling them as they pressed into me. her pace quicken causing me to throw my head back whilst biting my lip to suppress the noises that were desperate to leave my mouth.

“i thought you were my good girl, do i need to remind you what i want to hear?” she asked not taking a minute to slow down and let me response, in fact pumping into me faster and harder.

“fuck, more ale please” i whined, the built up sounds of satisfaction finally leaving my mouth.

“buena chica, you feel so good” she smirked, revealing in the effect she had on me.

i could feel myself tightening around her fingers, “i’m getting close”.

“mhm are you going to ask?” she mocked, leaning her lips down to meet mine.

“please can i come alexia?” i breathed out against her lips.

“come for me bebita” she whispered before locking my lips against hers. it only took seconds for me to fall apart underneath her, bucking by hips against her fingers as she continued fucking me through my orgasm. her fingers began to slow down to the point where they matched my slow heavy breathing. she took her fingers out, leaving me feel empty without her touch.

“that felt incredible” i puffed out, trying to regain my breath.

before i could fully recover, alexia was quick to shuffle herself down, placing her head in-between my thighs as she peppered kisses along my inner thighs. her arms wrapped around my thighs, holding me down in the exact position she wanted me in.

“ale i don’t know if i can -“ i was quickly cut off.

“one more please, let me taste you” i knew she wasn’t asking me and that it was more of statement of what she was about to do. before i could agree her tongue made quick work in heightening my senses again.

her tongue flicked across my clit, making me squirm under her grasp, i could feel myself building up easily considering i had barely had a minute to breathe after her first take over of my body.

“you taste so fucking good” her words vibrated against me, sending me further into a pool of pleasure.

i could feel myself coming undone underneath her again, her tongue worked expertly, “can i ale, for you please” i pleaded.

“yes, i want everyone hear it” her permission made me buckle, my moans getting louder as her movements pushed me over the edge.

she was quick to move herself back up to my face, placing one hand on my cheek as she smashed her lips into mine, allowing me to taste myself, she pulled away with a smile painted across her face, grinning as if she won the lottery. she fell next to me, her head turning to meet my direction. I had imagined what it would be like to lay next to her in this way, after doing something you wouldn’t necessarily do with a ‘close friend’ and yet this feeling surpassed it.

“that was everything i’ve ever wanted” i smiled.

“me too” she said, returning my smile. we sat in a comfortable silence, both with grins stuck across our face smiling like two teenagers who had just kissed for the first time.

“sooo, did i fuck you better than she did?” she asked, breaking the silence with a question that i knew was laced with jealousy.

i giggled slightly, “yes, of course you did”.

“good, i don’t think i could forgive you if that answer was any different” her hand reached out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, her hand resting against my cheek.

“you’re such a mix of jealousy and stubbornness” i commented.

“how could i not be jealous of someone touching what belongs to me” she smiled innocently as if what she just said wasn’t one of the hottest things possible.

in that moment all my angst towards her disappear. this was everything i had been waiting for for months, even after she ignored me for weeks i couldn’t not give into her, especially with a smile like hers and definitely when her fingers were inside of me.

she pulled me into her chest, her arms wrapping around me as if they were made for it, i felt a level of comfort that i hadn’t felt since the day after the incident.

alexia’s phone buzzed from the floor as she reached over to grab it.

cata : i came back to check on y/n but by the sounds of it, you two are all good now, i’m never forgiving you for the things i heard

“well your bestfriend heard everything, so good luck with that” she laughed, flashing her phone in my direction.

you would think i’d feel somewhat embarrassed, but not this time “so so worth it”, i grinned.

a/n - first time writing smut so any feedback is very much appreciated, any spelling or grammar mistakes is because google docs is homophobic

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas fic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso oneshot #woso imagine #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #fcb femení

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gladiatorcunt · 11 months ago

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summary: leto atreides x afab concubine!reader

cw: daddy kink, pregnancy, power imbalance, dark fic coded, implication that the other concubines “disappeared”, overstimulation, body worship, i would do anything to be in reader’s position here i’m being so real, not included but got reader pregnant in the full nelson position, the smut is in a flashback, mention of the reader having hip dips, mention of leto with others but he realizes you’re the one after lmao, probably dune world/lore inaccuracies, reader’s a member of the duke’s breeding program, mention of choking, intended age gap but you can read it as otherwise

wc: 1k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

“It’s to wake up, my love.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Duke Leto Atreides standing over your bed, one of his hands brushing back some of your hair away from your face. He smiles warmly when you tiredly meet his gaze, and holds out an open palm. You take it and let him help you sit up, though that’s as far as he’s willing to let you go. Leto hovers his hands over your baby bump, borderline paranoid about you doing anything that could jeopardize the health of the baby.

“I thought my appointment with the doctor wasn’t until next week, my lord…” You yawn, resting your hands on your belly as you fight off sleep. Being heavily pregnant was no easy task, and most days it feels like you have as much energy as a corpse.

“It is, I simply wanted to see you.” Leto answers, petting your hair and curling one arm around your lower back to support it. “When we’re alone, get rid of the ‘my lord’, what we have is more than the results of an obligation.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch as you consider his words. Months ago, you were just another member of the Duke’s harem. One of many meant to produce heirs until your body shriveled up. Your family was noteworthy but not noble enough to stay afloat, you heard that the Duke was looking for breeders and you left without looking back. Though you will admit that Leto Atreides is not the worst man you could’ve taken inside you. He was gentle and the way he kissed you suggested that he felt more than just gratitude.

You pretended to not mind the sounds and stories you heard from the other concubines in the beginning. You knew perfectly well what you were signing up for, the feelings came from nowhere, you swear.

Leto’s mannerisms during sex were impossibly adoring and intimate, and he would tell you were special every time in the midst of the afterglow. You stopped hearing heart dropping noises and nauseating stories, and the day after you found out you were pregnant you heard nothing at all. The Duke took longer than usual to meet with you that night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Leto calls out, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you get ready for bed.

You finish tying the strings of your nightgown and turn around to face him. There are strange little flecks of red in the wrinkles on his face, but they could be a trick of the light so you brush the curiosity off.

“I am always waiting for you, my lord.” You repeat the same thing you say everyday, noting the way the corners of his smile flatten in displeasure.

He cups your face and walks the both of you backwards towards the bed, shooting his hands out to keep himself from crushing you when you inevitably fall on it.

Time passes by in a blur, every moment filled with cries of “Daddy” and overzealous movement from him that punches the breath of your lungs. He’s not incredibly rough, just passionate enough to have tears dot your lashes and his thumb buried in your mouth. Every kiss is a hot swirling mess of saliva and tongues colliding that gets you so wet, you really believe it could kill you.

“Mm, your tongue feels amazing, clumsily chasing after mine.” Leto grunts at some point, rutting and slamming his balls against your ass with no rhyme or reason. “The tightest cunt i’ve ever had, fuck-“

You hum around his thumb, suckling on it like he’s your god and his thick fingers in your mouth are your only reason to live. He grinds his teeth together when you make eye contact, and you struggle to keep it up as you hollow out your cheeks around his coarse digits.

“Wanna make you proud, Daddy, gonna be so good for you.” The words are muffled past the point of comprehension, but your eyes allow him to get the gist.

If you were not already pregnant, the flood of fresh cum in your pussy would’ve done the trick. You clench around your lord’s fat cock and let yourself break, squirting all over yourself.

When you come to, Leto’s busying himself with latching onto your tits like a leech and bullying your battered pussy.

“These are already so sensitive, aren’t they? And to think that I made them that way…” Leto trails off, licking a broad stripe over your nipple and pinching your clit.

You jolt and throw your head back, “Yes, Daddy, you did.”

He groans at the frequently used name, pinching your clit harder and digging his fingers in deeper. You’ve had more orgasms than you ever thought possible in the last hour alone, but your lord was insatiable like this. His head is too high in the clouds with visions of his future family to calm down.

Your legs shake but he takes his hand away from your clit and smooths his palm over your thigh to steady you.

“It’s alright, you know i won’t be too rough honey, you can take it. You’ve already taken my seed beautifully, growing my son in your womb.”

You know there’s no chance of stopping until Leto’s sure that he’s kissed and lavished every inch of your delectable body in Daddy’s attention. He gives each of your buds a ‘Goodbye for now’ kiss and wipes down the dips in your hips with his tongue, soothing the love bites and caressing the necklace of bruises around your neck he left when he lost control.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The bed sinks with Leto’s added weight, and your cheeks warm as you come back to the present. You look down at your joined hands to see a box clenched tightly in his free one. Like he’s scared of dropping it. You gaze up at him questioningly and he smiles once again before softly kissing the skin between your eyes.

Next thing you know, Duke Leto Atreides is kneeling before you and opening the box to reveal a large ring. It’s magnificently crafted and all the details align with your taste perfectly.

“Will you marry me?”

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marypaol · 9 months ago

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Strings And Knots

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: Reader makes a bracelet for Draco, and, surprisingly to her, it lasts throughout all their years of Hogwarts.

Warnings: Mention of death, war, murder, suffocation, air pollution, destruction, emotional/physical damage, but overall fluff! (Until the end it’s kinda sad but it ends quite well- just a sad mood.)

Note: I know I did the whole Divination thing wrong since they do it for every month but that’s okay. And I really love this one it’s gotta be in top five favorites! Maybe top three!

Masterlist

Request Requirements

One: The Making

Year: First

Her fingers worked carefully on the thread, the rough texture feeling slightly scratchy against her fingertips. Her hands were red and almost dry, twisting them together before pulling the knot up, securing it as it joined the design she was creating.

She wanted it to be perfect, despite her just learning about a week ago, but each day she practiced a bit and she could tell she was slowly improving.

She grumbled when the strings tangled together and she once again separated the colors. She could use magic, her wand sitting on her bed on top of her Charms and Potions book, but she made it her personal mission not to use the wand, for she wanted it to be made by her very hands, that way the finishing product would be much more meaningful; to her and to him.

Her fingers burned and the tips turned red as she tied the finishing knot at the bottom, taking a pair of scissors afterward and snipping the axis thread, the extra string flying off the once was connected bracelet and landing on her robes. This time she did use the wand, pointing them at the strands and made them disappear with a flick of the tip.

“Good, you’re here, look what Potter is doing, hanging around that giant again; honestly, how could you tolerate-what are you doing?”

She was half listening, her fingers focusing on tying the bracelet she made around Draco’s wrist. He made a face she didn’t see, taking his arm to his eyes once she was finished.

“What’s this rubbish?” He snarled, eyes looking disgustingly at the thread on his wrist. The girl rolled her eyes, being used to his on-the-daily-attitude.

“It’s not rubbish,” she protested. “It’s a bracelet. A friendship bracelet to be exact.”

Draco still didn’t wipe the disturbed look off his face, looking down at the thread with uncertainty.

“Look, I have one too; just switched colors.” She said, showing her own by pulling up her robe sleeve, hoping to assure him that out of the two of them he wasn’t the only one wearing a bracelet.

He looked at hers, something in his eyes that she couldn’t read. “Well? What does it mean?” He asked, still looking at the strands on his arm.

The girl shrugged even though the meaning of them meant everything to her. “It represents friendship. Ya ever heard of it?” She asked, a teasing glint in her eyes as she looked at him.

He scowled. “Of course I’ve heard of friendship. We are friends, aren’t we?”

She smiled. “Yeah, why do you think I made it for you?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Well I will admit I like being friends with you but I’m not sure about walking around with this on my wrist.”

The girl looked down at the bracelet she made herself, the strands not seeming so exciting and meaningful anymore, they seemed to be mocking her now, screaming at her that Draco wouldn’t want to wear some silly bracelet.

“Right…” She whispered, chest squeezing. Draco scoffed, leaning over and picking up her chin with his index finger. She looked at him, eyes uncertain and anxious.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t wear it- at least it matches my robes.” He stated, looking down at the green thread and then at the knitted badge of Slytherin on his chest, mouth twitching but she could tell it was his form of smiling. Her lips stretched wide, eyes sparkling. This time his grin broke, but it was small, nice and toothless.

Two: The Sighting

Year: Second

“Snape assigned another essay, I can’t believe it.” She complained with a light scowl in her voice, plopping her books down on the table beside the fireplace, sitting down on the emerald green couch, the surface silky beneath the skin of her hands. Draco grumbled in agreement to her protests, eyes scanning the paper of the Daily Prophet. She always thought it was interesting, him being so young and reading all those kind of grown up things about the Ministry. But it came with an upside: she could always get updates from him about what was currently going on in the Wizarding world. She leaned forward, finger tapping his knee lightly.

“Anything good today?” She asked, neck craning to meet his face behind the stack of papers, moving pictures all around the pages. He shook his head, folding the Prophet up carefully before throwing it onto the table, right next to her textbooks.

“No,” He replied. “And I bet there is, just wait till my father tells me. And that Chamber, he never tells me anything these days.”

It was her turn to agree with a complaint between the two of them.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do, right?” She tried to assure, but Draco wasn’t one for the ‘look on the bright side’ pep talk. She always knew that, but what she also knew was that it was worth a try.

“I wish there was something I could do.” Draco snarled, lips twitching irritably. She smiled lightly, getting off the couch and sitting the floor, pulling her parchment out with a quill and ink bottle.

“How ‘bout that essay, mm?” She hummed, voice smooth and he nodded, still looking like his head wasn’t with her. She watched him as he looked at of the window for a moment, the tallest one in the Common Room, the evening sun providing a warm glow to the space. His hand went to his head, lightly scratching his ear, when she then noticed the worn out thread on his wrist, green and slightly dirty, displaying its age. She smiled. “You’re wearing it.” She noted, and watched as his head snapped to her, eyes moving from the knotted strings to her face.

“Well we are friends, aren’t we?” He replied like it was a silly observation, shrugging half-heartedly but something brewed in her chest as he joined her, getting his things out for the essay they were about to write. It was something her young self wouldn’t be able to recognize, but it was similar to when her mother smiled at her in the morning, or how her father kissed her hair before leaving for work.

Her older self would know, oh yes, and that older mature young lady would call it love.

Three: The Teasing

Year: Third

“No.” Draco’s voice burst out as she hovered a very reactive ingredient over the cauldron, the potion brewing inside just the right temperature for him to add the alligator heart, dropping a few chunks inside. She grimaced in disgust.

“I was joking.” She then insisted.

“No you weren’t.” He instantly said, looking at her as a way to say “try me”.

She snorted, cutting up an herb he gave her. “I wasn’t actually gonna do it.” She tried to convince, yet he wouldn’t take her excuses, shaking his head.

“Yes you would; then we would end up like Seamus.” Draco responded and she chuckled, looking down at the herbs again so she failed to notice the soft smile on his lips.

“Got a friend, Malfoy? Who’s the lucky person?” Pansy’s voice suddenly broke out, and, the two Slytherins turning to her, saw her long skinny finger pointing at Draco’s wrist, a teasing glint on her face. Draco scowled at her, shooting her daggers with his grey eyes.

“Shut up Parkinson.” He spat, and she shut right up, cheeks flushing. “Not like you have any friends, bet you wish you did, don’t you?”

Pansy’s eyes glossed over but neither of them seemed to take care to it, yet the girl felt a small, very small I tell you, peck of empathy.

Pansy dismissed herself from the classroom right then, crying her eyes out.

The girl turned to Draco. “You didn’t have to be so harsh, ya know.” She whispered. She saw him look at her.

“Yeah I did. Surprised she didn’t say anything about yours.” He said softly, nudging her wrist that had the thread on it.

The girl scoffed quietly. “I’m a girl, it’s normal for us to have silly jewelry on.”

Draco’s pale eyebrow shot up. “‘Silly jewelry’?” He quoted. “So our friendship is silly now?”

The girl felt a pinch of regret hit her. She quickly shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He still had an absence of a frown on his lips, but he believed the reassurance that she provided when she gave him a kind apologetic smile.

“Good.” She heard him mutter, most likely for her to not hear, but she thanked Merlin her ears picked up on it.

Four: The Admiring

Year: Forth

The Divination book was open in front of her, propped up against her bag that was lazily thrown on the table moments prior. The usual presence of Draco wasn’t met, since she was keeping herself busy while he attended Quidditch practice. The sun was still shining, though it was evening and after supper, through the green see-through curtains.

The Professor wanted them to write predictions on how their future would go, and all she came up with was that she would “experience a heart warming moment” and that “something she dearly loved would break”.

Her eyebrows were furrowed tightly, and just when she about decided to start making them up, the Common Room entrance opened, a certain platinum blonde coming into view, broomstick hung over his shoulder. His face was twisted with exhaustion, yet once his eyes met hers she saw a different expression in his eyes, relief perhaps, for she often didn’t know how to read his eyes, despite them being friends for four years.

He blooped down across from her, next to her bag so he was still in sight. His hand was now dug into his hair, eyes fluttering but he still was able to look at her. She stared longer than she should’ve, but the sight was too warming to her chest, watching his tired eyes gaze upon hers with such softness no one would ever be able to see but her.

She had her right arm on the table, flipping through the pages of the book with her other hand.

“Divination?” Draco asked, peering over at the work she had done. She nodded, and at that moment she yawn came over her.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m about to start making it up at this point.”

Draco chuckled, reaching up and lazily rubbing his eye. “Agreed; kinda stupid really.”

She nodded once again, starting to get too tired to talk. She scanned the page that was open in front of her, spotting the sentence “you will witness a break up between two strangers” and thought that was good enough. The other predictions spoke to her but this one didn’t seem to do such, for she was at that point picking random ones out to write down. She was focused on writing, so such so that she didn’t notice Draco lay his arm down, close to her hand but the skin wasn’t close enough to brush. She also didn’t notice his grey eyes moving from his wrist to hers, the matching thread being admired scanned with his eyes.

She looked up them, feeling his finger tips brush her robe sleeve, and she met his eyes.

“What are you looking at?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing only to curve even deeper than before when he quickly responded, a little too quickly.

“Nothing.” He said shortly, taking his arm back. She held a confused expression but didn’t pry on the subject.

“Can we go to bed now?” He asked abruptly, trying to change the topic of conversation. She hummed, packing up her now finished work and putting it in her bag. She stood up, about to grab the bag when Draco beat her to it, his pale hand gripping the strap.

“Thanks.” She muttered, suddenly feeling a small flush appear over her cheeks.

“For what?” He asked, confused, like he didn’t know he just did a kind deed.

She scoffed at how oblivious he was. “For carrying my bag. You don’t have to do that.”

It was his turn to scoff, lips twitching in slight annoyance. “Well we are friends, aren’t we?”

Five: The Breaking

Year: Fifth

The Hogwarts Express seemed to vibrate underneath her, the engine coming to life as it was ready to ride on. Everyone was excited for the upcoming year, happiness flooding their features and chests.

She, however, grew worried when she didn’t have the usual company of her friend, not having seeing him yet. She didn’t spot him in the platform or while she was walking along the hallways of the train, going to their usual compartment. She was thinking he went with his other friends, perhaps he wanted to catch up with them.

But she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt, since he always at least met her before each year, in the same seats on the same train in the same compartment. Why was it different this year?

She looked out the window, miraculously thinking maybe he was running along the train’s side, yelling for it to stop so he could catch up. But of course that wouldn’t happen since the boy was always on time, so he must be on the train, just not with her.

The compartment door opened abruptly, causing her head to snap in the direction of the noise. Draco stood there, in a black suit, black tie, and black shoes. He strolled over to the seat and sat across from her, leaning his hands on the table in front of him. This all happened just in time as the train started churning, wheels turning and gaining speed as it headed off to the school.

“Where have you been?” She asked, unable to hide the worry in her voice.

“I was looking for something.” He answered simply, looking a little irritated.

“For what, exactly?” She asked, getting annoyed as well, the irritation brewing in her chest as he once again left her with no answers.

“I was looking for this.” He said sharply. He had slapped something on the table for her to see, the green thread immediately recognizable between his fingers. It was the same as it has always been, dirty as it went through the years but the knots stayed true. The only thing was that the bottom was broken, the knot becoming undone.

“Can’t wear it if it’s broken, right?”

She was half listening, still gazing at the strings that were on the table. She grabbed it gently between her fingers, caressing it like a baby and analyzed the damage.

“It fell off on my way here.” He explained, kind of annoyed that it did such thing at such an inconvenient time.

“I can fix it.” She said quietly, surprised he still possessed it. “I just can’t believe you still have it.”

“What, you don’t have yours?” He asked, looking a little hurt beneath the annoyance that she’s so surprised at that occurrence.

“Of course I do,” she started, and missed his eyes going to her arm to see if it was there, and she was telling the truth. “I just didn’t think you’d-“

Draco groaned, rubbing his head with his hand and looking at the window, grey eyes reflecting the sun’s warmth. “We are friends, aren’t we? Honestly…”

She looked down at the bracelet, the knots worn down and dirty, but the meaning stood true. She didn’t know what it was, but somehow her mind went back to her Forth Year, working on her Divination homework, and writing down “something she dearly loved would break.”

She supposed her made up predictions weren’t made up after all.

Six: The Decision

Year: Sixth

“This is stupid.” Draco’s voice blurted shortly, looking down at the homework in front of him, the essay’s words seeming to combine in his mind, creating an annoying jumble of ink.

“I know, but Slughorn insisted.” She reminded, causing his silver eyes to roll in the back of his head. He quill lazily sat on his hands, twirling it mindlessly out of boredom.

She noticed his robe sleeve rolled up at the action, wrist muscles twitching and moving as his fingers worked the quill.

The bracelet made of thread was not only repaired but still sitting on his wrist as good as ever, the green shining the meaning of it. Just looking at his made the feeling of her own on her skin a lot more noticeable, heart warming at the sight.

“Do you want me to make you a new one?” She asked, and when he turned to her she gestured to the strands that were getting older by the day.

His eyebrows furrowed deeply, displaying large amounts of confusion. “New one? Certainly not.” He replied. “This one’s just fine; don’t know what you’d think that, really.”

She smiled soft but it was unsure. “You sure? Cause I was thinking about making myself a new one.”

Draco scoffed but looked a little frustrated. “Scared of a little dirt?”

“No.” She replied. Draco then nodded towards her wrist.

“Then it stays. Mine’s as old as yours.”

Seven: The Pulling

Year: Seventh

The air was musty, ash seeping the air, suffocating the lungs of beings who breathed it in. Of course no one cared at the moment; the air pollution the last thing on their minds. The living breathing representation of evil was standing in front of them, laughing like what was happening was his dream come true. Because, realistically, it was. Deaths, damage, emotional and physical, destruction, all of it was part of his dream. To end it all and face the boy who lived, and all for what. Just so he can kill the boy who he was trying to murder ever since he was a baby?

It wasn’t that the girl was paying much attention as the living evil spoke, too busy staring at the ground that inc held healthy green grass, grass that her and Draco used to pick at while they complained about classes they had that day. Or any day for that matter. Sometimes his long skinny fingers would dig into her sides, wiggling until he heard the sound of her laughter, something he may never hear again because of the cold voice calling him.

His mother. His father. The living evil.

He stepped forward, ready to leave the cruelty of his peers and the burning stares he just knew where there. His head swam with so many emotions but he didn’t have time to look them through, just focusing on walking to the other side, the other side where evil doings were being performed. The other side that he didn’t have a choice but to be on.

He was gonna go, he really was, despite the soft tug he felt on his wrist, and, looking down, saw her index finger hooked underneath the thread of his bracelet as she pulled, the knots begging him to stay along with the maker of them. He met her eyes despite the emotions crashing his rib cage, threatening to get to his heart, but he held the gaze all the same.

“Stay.” She said softly, eyes swirling, knowing all those years with him weren’t for nothing. She didn’t last all those times with him as a child or teenager just for him to walk away.

“Why.” He muttered back, voice dry as ever so much so that he felt like his throat was filled with sand and he was speaking through the tiny rocks. She answered with a small smile, something so small making him plant his feet on the ground, making him stay away from the living evil on the other side….making him have a choice.

“Well, we are friends, aren’t we?”

#imagines #stories #x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #tom felton x reader

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dreamersworldduh · 3 months ago

Text

HI, NEIGHBOR — PART 3

• JASON TODD x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — you’re new to the neighborhood and find yourself becoming friends with the residential bad boy, Jason Todd. From his perspective, you seem like an outgoing guy yet there’s a mystery to you he couldn’t quite figure out.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Violence.

WORDS! 11.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! here we are with part three finally, I know I was supposed to post this days ago but reality interrupted my dreams and I had handle a few things, but as you can see we are locked and loaded. Also 11k words is insane, but it was getting so good—I had to finish!

I hope you enjoy! 😉

NEXT PART! FOUR

PREVIOUS PART! TWO.

In the months following your arrival at Wayne Manor, you slowly adjusted to life within its towering, stone-carved walls. The sprawling estate, with its endless corridors, grand halls, and hidden passageways, transformed from an intimidating labyrinth into something almost familiar—though it never quite lost its imposing presence. You had little choice in the matter; agreeing to let the Bat Family handle the looming threat of the League of Assassins meant surrendering your personal freedom in ways you hadn't anticipated. The arrangement came with a steep, unspoken cost: confinement.

Bruce, ever the calculating strategist and overprotective guardian, made it clear from day one that venturing outside the Manor was not an option. "Too dangerous," he had said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He cited countless reasons: the League's relentless pursuit, Gotham's ever-growing list of threats, and his unyielding need to protect those under his roof. It didn't matter how many times you reminded him—and the rest of the family—that you weren't some defenseless bystander. You'd survived the League's brutal training. You'd fought your way through far worse than Gotham's criminals. You were capable, competent, and deadly—but none of that mattered to Bruce. He couldn't risk losing another person he cared about.

So, despite the suffocating restrictions, you adapted. You weren't the type to waste energy on complaints, especially when there were...perks. Life at Wayne Manor came with its comforts—luxuries you never expected but quickly came to appreciate. Alfred Pennyworth, ever the consummate butler and caretaker, could whip up anything you requested with unparalleled skill. His meals were nothing short of culinary masterpieces, turning even the most routine days into something special. But it wasn't just the food—Alfred himself was a grounding presence, his dry wit and subtle warmth offering rare moments of peace in an otherwise tense environment.

Then there was the Batcave. Its state-of-the-art training facilities became both sanctuary and battleground. You poured hours into training, pushing yourself to exhaustion against holographic enemies and weighted combat simulations. You sharpened your skills with unwavering focus, testing weapon prototypes—some Bruce didn't even know existed. The cave's cold, metallic stillness was familiar, almost comforting. Every punch, every kick, every precise movement was a reclaiming of control, a defiant stand against the helplessness confinement tried to impose.

As the weeks turned into months, bonds you hadn't expected began to form. Dick, ever the optimist with his easy smile and magnetic charm, quickly became someone you trusted. His laughter seemed to chase away the Manor's heavy shadows, making even the darkest days lighter. Then there was Tim, sharp-eyed and brilliant, whose love of strategy and detective work mirrored your own. Together, you dissected Gotham's criminal networks like players in a high-stakes game of chess, often losing track of time in the process.

Even Damian, the guarded and sharp-tongued youngest member of the family, began to thaw. He still acted like the world's most stubborn brat, but there was something like respect in his gaze when he watched you train—perhaps recognizing a fellow survivor shaped by the League's harsh hand. The two of you shared an unspoken understanding built on shared experience, though neither of you would ever admit it aloud.

But the deepest—and most unexpected—connection you forged was with Jason.

Jason, with his jagged edges and bruised soul, had always been something of a wild card. Reckless, passionate, and fiercely loyal, he seemed to understand the feeling of being trapped better than anyone. He never pitied you for your situation—he just got it. He made being stuck at Wayne Manor tolerable, even fun at times. The two of you easily fell back into your old rhythm: late-night movie marathons sprawled across the Manor's oversized couches, sharp-witted banter flying between you like familiar, well-worn armor.

But things were...different now. The kiss you had shared—unexpected, intense, real—had shifted something fundamental between you. It wasn't just a passing moment or a mistake born out of loneliness. It lingered in every shared glance, every casual touch that lasted a second too long. Conversations turned softer in the quiet hours of the night, the edges of your banter giving way to something deeper, more intimate.

Jason's eyes lingered when he thought you weren't paying attention, a quiet intensity burning beneath that tough exterior he wore like a shield. His hand would brush yours, and neither of you would pull away. The space between you felt charged, an invisible line crossed long ago that neither of you wanted to retreat from. You both danced around the unspoken truth, hesitant but unwilling to let go of whatever fragile, uncertain thing was forming between you.

Wayne Manor might have felt like a gilded cage at times, its stone walls a constant reminder of your captivity—but being with Jason made it feel like something else entirely. He made it feel safe. He made it feel like home.

The quiet hum of advanced technology reverberated through the cavernous expanse of the BatCave, blending seamlessly with the steady rhythm of your fists slamming into the reinforced punching bag suspended from thick, heavy chains. Each precise strike sent deep, resounding thuds echoing across the cold stone walls, reverberating through the dimly lit space like distant thunder. The soft glow from the Batcomputer's towering display monitors flickered faintly in the background, illuminating rows of specialized gear and weapon racks arranged with military precision.

Beads of sweat rolled down your temple, dripping onto the steel platform beneath your feet. You inhaled deeply, letting the chilled, mineral-scented air cool your burning lungs. The BatCave's icy stillness grounded you, stripping away everything except the focus of combat—the rhythm, the movement, the power radiating from deep within your core.

Your knuckles connected with the bag again and again, each punch sharper, faster, and harder than the last. The faint pulse of Chi energy thrummed beneath your skin, a persistent force you had long since learned to harness. It surged with every strike, burning like a fire that couldn't be extinguished—only controlled.

Fighting was your language, your anchor, your defiance. The League of Assassins' brutal training still lived within your muscles, etched into your very bones. You hated that, but it was yours now—something reclaimed, reshaped into a weapon on your terms.

You pivoted sharply, throwing a vicious spinning back-kick that cracked against the heavy bag with a satisfying boom, sending it swinging wildly on its reinforced chains. The satisfying ache in your leg reminded you that you were still in control—that you were still fighting.

Then— "Your balance is off."

The cold, clipped voice cut through the stillness like the edge of a blade.

You whirled on instinct, already dropping into a defensive stance—ready to strike. But you stopped short when you saw him.

Damian stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his intense green eyes gleaming in the dim, flickering light. His posture was impossibly straight, his expression sharp and unreadable—a perfect image of practiced discipline and quiet authority far beyond his years. His green cape draped neatly over one shoulder, its hem just barely brushing the cave floor like a royal mantle.

Despite your heightened senses, you hadn't heard his approach—not a single footfall, not even a whisper of movement. He was that good.

You exhaled slowly, tension still coiling in your muscles. "You always sneak up on people, or is it just me?"

His mouth twitched—just slightly. Not quite a smirk, but close. "Consider it a compliment," he replied coolly. "Most wouldn't have even noticed me."

You snorted softly, grabbing a towel from the nearby bench and wiping the sweat from your face. "So, what do you want, Wayne? Here to critique my footwork again?"

Damian took a measured step forward, boots clicking faintly against the cold steel. His eyes remained locked on yours—sharp, calculating, serious.

"I came to talk."

You blinked, thrown by his directness. Damian Wayne... wanting to talk? That was a first.

Still, something about his tone was different—less sharp, more... resolute. Whatever this was, it wasn't just a passing observation about your training.

You tossed the towel aside, folding your arms. "Talk about what?"

Damian tilted his head slightly, studying you like a chess piece he was considering moving. For a moment, he said nothing—his sharp mind clearly weighing his words before finally speaking.

"About the League... and what comes after." His voice was quiet—but heavy with meaning.

Your breath hitched despite yourself, though you kept your expression neutral. The League. They were always there—lingering at the edges of your mind, a shadow you could never quite escape.

"What about it?" you asked cautiously.

His gaze didn't waver. "You know what it means to be made by them... to be shaped by their rules." His voice was steady, but edged with something deeper—something personal. "They make you believe that's all you'll ever be." His expression hardened. "That you'll never be anything else."

Your jaw clenched, memories surfacing like jagged glass cutting through old wounds. You stayed silent, letting him speak.

Damian's sharp features remained set, but something... raw flickered in his eyes—something unmistakably human.

"I believed that," he admitted quietly. "For a long time." His voice dropped, almost distant—as though speaking more to himself than to you.

"I thought being part of the League... was my purpose. That their rules, their code, were all that mattered." His lips pressed into a thin line, bitterness seeping into his tone. "Until I came here."

Your brow furrowed, caught off guard by the quiet intensity in his voice. Damian never talked about himself—especially not about this.

He took a slow, measured breath, meeting your gaze with quiet determination. "Being Robin... changed that."

His voice steadied, gaining strength. "My father taught me that being a weapon isn't the same as being a person. That I could choose who I wanted to be—not what the League made me."

His emerald-green eyes burned with conviction, even as something darker lingered beneath the surface. "But it wasn't easy."

You remained silent, listening intently despite yourself.

Damian took another deliberate step forward, his voice steady but low. "I still fight. I still kill, when I have to." His gaze hardened. "That part of me doesn't just... disappear. It's always there. But it doesn't control me anymore."

He held your gaze, fierce yet... understanding. "Neither does it have to control you."

The words hit you like a blow, raw and unyielding. For a long moment, you couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. His admission struck something deep, something you had buried long ago.

"You think..." your voice wavered, rough with emotion. "You think it's that simple?"

Damian's expression softened—but just barely. "No," he said firmly. "But it's possible."

The stillness between you stretched—charged not with hostility, but... understanding. For the first time, Damian wasn't speaking as Robin, or Bruce Wayne's son, or even a former assassin.

He was speaking as someone who understood.

You exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from your shoulders.

"I'm... not like you," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can change."

Damian's lips twitched—almost a knowing smirk, but softer. "Neither did I."

Silence fell between you once more—weighted, but... not uncomfortable.

Finally, Damian straightened and stepped back toward the shadows of the BatCave, his cape trailing behind him like a phantom.

"Just... think about it." His voice was calm, steady—but held an edge of quiet sincerity.

Without another word, he vanished into the dark, leaving you alone with your thoughts... and the faint, lingering echo of his words.

"It doesn't control me... and it doesn't have to control you."

For the first time in a long time... you wondered if that could actually be true.

The soft flicker of the TV cast shifting shadows across your dimly lit room in Wayne Manor. The familiar hum of an old action movie played quietly, its over-the-top explosions and cheesy one-liners filling the comfortable silence between you and Jason Todd as you lounged on the large, worn couch pushed against the far wall.

The room was simple but cozy, far more welcoming than any place you'd ever stayed before. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with books, training manuals, and a few small mementos you'd picked up since moving in. A faint breeze drifted in from the half-open window, carrying the cool scent of the manor's sprawling gardens.

Jason sat next to you, legs stretched out comfortably, his leather jacket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch. He wore a simple hoodie and dark jeans, his signature sharp, rugged features softened slightly in the dim, warm light. His sharp blue eyes stayed fixed on the screen—but you could tell he wasn't paying much attention.

Neither were you.

You leaned back into the cushions, one arm draped over the back of the couch, fingers resting just barely close enough to graze Jason's shoulder. He sat just close enough that his warmth pressed against your side—not quite touching, but close enough.

The comfortable silence between you lingered for a while, both of you absorbed in your thoughts more than the film.

Finally, you exhaled slowly, breaking the stillness. "...I talked to Damian today."

Jason arched an eyebrow but didn't look away from the TV. "You? Talking to Damian?" he teased, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Did the world end or something?"

You rolled your eyes. "He wasn't that bad... this time."

Jason chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. "What'd he want? Lecture you about footwork again?"

You shook your head, your expression growing more thoughtful. "...He talked about the League. About how... being Robin changed him."

That got Jason's attention. His teasing smirk faded, replaced by something more serious, more attentive. He sat up slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he watched you carefully. "Really?"

You nodded slowly, running a hand through your hair. "He said... he used to think he couldn't change. That being part of the League was... all he'd ever be." You hesitated, your voice dropping lower. "...He said being Robin showed him that... it didn't have to be."

Jason's blue eyes softened—not with pity, but with something far deeper... understanding.

"And what did you think about that?" he asked quietly, his voice steady but gentle.

You shrugged, though your expression stayed thoughtful. "I don't know... it's hard to believe." Your gaze dropped slightly. "I've been running from what the League made me for so long.... I don't know if I can ever be anything else."

Jason studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable—but his eyes burned with something fierce and protective.

"You can," he said firmly, his voice rough but sincere. "You already are."

You met his gaze, startled by the conviction in his voice.

Jason leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "You're not like them. You left. You fought back." His expression softened just slightly, the intensity in his voice easing into something warmer. "You've got nothing to prove to anyone—especially not them."

His words hit deeper than you expected, settling somewhere deep in your chest. You could tell he meant it, every word.

Still, you couldn't resist adding, "You sound like Bruce."

Jason's lips twitched into a faint, crooked smirk. "Don't push it," he shot back.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence again—but there was something different about it now, something warmer, charged with something unspoken.

After a long pause, Jason spoke again, voice low but... hopeful.

"You know... you could... be one of us."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Jason shrugged, his expression thoughtful but sincere. "You're already here. You've been training in the BatCave, fighting alongside us... hell, you've saved my life more than once." His sharp blue eyes gleamed with quiet certainty. "You belong here... whether you believe it or not."

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. "Me? Part of the Bat-family? You're insane."

Jason smirked faintly but didn't back down. "It's not as crazy as you think."

You stared at him for a moment longer, still processing—but there was no mockery in his voice... just earnest belief.

The warmth in your chest grew—unexpected, overwhelming.

The movie on the TV played on, forgotten. The flickering glow of the screen danced across Jason's face, highlighting the faint scars tracing his jaw, the steady intensity in his piercing gaze.

You realized... you were staring.

But Jason... was staring too.

The air shifted between you, charged, as the familiar walls you'd built around yourself slowly... fell.

Jason's breath hitched slightly, his sharp features softening as his gaze dropped just briefly to your lips—hesitant, waiting.

You leaned in—just barely—testing the distance between you.

Jason didn't move... but his eyes darkened, something unspoken burning in their depths. His hand brushed yours, tentative... gentle.

You closed the small distance between you—finally.

The kiss was slow at first—steady, like neither of you wanted to break the fragile, perfect stillness of the moment.

Jason's breath shuddered against yours before he deepened the kiss, pulling you in closer, his hand resting lightly on your jaw, fingers brushing your neck in a way that left fire in their wake.

Your heart pounded against your chest, steady and certain, chasing away every lingering shadow.

Soon Jason's hands move to your sides, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of your shirt with slow, deliberate intensity. His touch was warm, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine that you couldn't suppress.

The kiss between you deepened, turning from tentative to desperate, fueled by weeks of lingering glances, quiet moments, and feelings left unsaid. His breath hitched when you threaded your fingers through his thick, dark hair, tugging gently—just enough to draw a low, rough sound from deep in his chest.

Jason pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his sharp blue eyes locking onto yours with fierce, burning intensity. His pupils were blown wide, and you could feel the tension radiating off him—wanting, waiting, but still holding himself back, as though afraid you might change your mind.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Before you could think, his strong hands found your waist, gripping firmly—not rough, but secure. His gaze flicked to your lips for just a heartbeat before he moved, effortlessly pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion.

A soft gasp escaped you as your knees hit the mattress on either side of his thighs, straddling him as his hands settled firmly at your waist, holding you in place like he needed you there—like letting go wasn't even an option.

"Jason..." you breathed, barely able to get the word out before his lips claimed yours again, fierce and demanding. His fingers pressed into your hips, anchoring you closer, as though afraid you'd vanish if he let go.

You melted against him, your hands bracing against his broad shoulders before sliding down to rest against his chest. His heartbeat pounded fast, strong, echoing the frantic rhythm of your own as the kiss deepened—hot, urgent, and hungry.

His lips moved against yours with a fire you hadn't expected—like he'd been starving for this, for you, for far longer than he'd ever let on. His fingers tightened their grip just enough to make you feel it, keeping you anchored firmly against him.

Your breath hitched when he broke the kiss, trailing slow, heated kisses down the line of your jaw, leaving a burning path in his wake. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot beneath your ear, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips as your hands tightened against the hard planes of his chest.

Jason smirked against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction—but there was nothing cocky about the way his breath stuttered when you rolled your hips just barely against his. His grip tightened, a low, rough sound escaping him that you felt more than heard.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, his voice rough, low, and wrecked as his forehead rested against yours.

"Good," you whispered, voice breathless but teasing, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at your lips.

Jason's answering grin was dangerous, laced with heat and something far more intense—something real. His hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer until there was nothing but fire between you.

Your fingers moved almost instinctively, skimming over his broad shoulders and trailing down his chest, feeling the faint tremor beneath your fingertips. His body was solid, built from years of combat and survival—scarred, strong, and completely real.

Without thinking, your hands slipped beneath the worn fabric of his hoodie, fingertips grazing over the taut, heated skin of his abdomen. The breath he sucked in at the contact was sharp, his muscles tightening instinctively under your touch.

Jason pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression unreadable for a fleeting moment—intense, unguarded, as though you'd caught him off guard in a way no one ever had before. His breath hitched, lips still slightly parted as he stared at you with something dangerously close to vulnerability.

Slowly, Jason tugged the hem of his hoodie and shirt upward in one smooth motion, pulling both over his head and tossing them carelessly to the floor.

Your breath caught.

His chest and shoulders were a patchwork of old scars—deep, jagged, and unforgiving, crisscrossing across his toned skin like the remnants of countless battles fought long before you'd ever met him. Each mark told a silent, brutal story written in flesh—survival, pain, resilience.

Jason's expression shifted—not defensive, not ashamed—but... uncertain. Like he was waiting for something—rejection, disgust... anything.

But you didn't look away.

You let your gaze trace every faded scar, every rough edge, your fingers moving slowly, reverently, as though trying to memorize all of him.

Gently, you leaned in, pressing your lips softly against a long, faint scar that curved just below his collarbone—a wound that looked like it might've been fatal once. His breath hitched, muscles tensing beneath your touch, but he didn't pull away.

You kissed the scar again—slower this time, lingering—before trailing your lips lower, tracing the rough line of an old slash across his ribs. His hands flexed against your waist, tightening their grip as though holding himself together.

Your fingers followed the faint, faded scar running just beneath his right pectoral, brushing over it with deliberate care before pressing another gentle, lingering kiss there. Jason's breath shuddered, his head tilting back just slightly, lips parting with something between a gasp and a low, desperate exhale.

"You don't have to—" he started, his voice rough, strained—but you silenced him with another slow, reverent kiss along the edge of a ragged scar near his shoulder.

"I want to," you whispered against his skin, your voice steady but soft—earnest.

Jason let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to cradle your face gently, thumbs brushing over your jaw with surprising tenderness. His expression was... raw, stripped of every wall he'd ever built, laid bare in a way that felt too much, too intense—but he let you see it.

You pressed another soft, lingering kiss against a scar just over his heart, feeling its steady, strong rhythm beneath your lips. His hands trembled—just barely.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting himself feel it—really feel it—like no one had ever touched him like that before.

"You're... unbelievable," Jason whispered, his voice wrecked, almost disbelieving, like he couldn't comprehend what you were doing... or why it felt like it mattered so much.

You met his gaze again—steady, grounded—and saw something breaking in his expression... something open and real.

"You're not just your scars," you whispered, voice low but fierce. "You're more. You've always been more."

Jason inhaled sharply as his hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing over your heated skin with deliberate care. His touch sent shivers up your spine, making your breath hitch as his fingers slowly tugged your shirt upward, exposing more of your torso inch by inch.

His gaze never left yours—intense, focused, hungry—watching for any sign of hesitation... but there was none. You wanted this—needed this—and he could see it in your eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, Jason stripped your shirt off in one smooth motion and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His strong hands immediately returned to your waist, gripping firmly, grounding you as though anchoring himself just as much as he was anchoring you.

Before you could even catch your breath, Jason gently pushed you back against the soft cushions, guiding you down with a quiet, silent command that sent a thrill down your spine. His weight settled comfortably over you, strong and solid, radiating warmth that made your heart race in your chest.

His gaze flicked over your bare skin, dark and possessive but still tender, like he was memorizing every inch of you—every scar, every line, every breath.

"You're so—" Jason started, his voice rough, wrecked—but whatever he was going to say got lost as he moved.

He pressed his lips to the side of your neck—soft at first, almost reverent, tasting your skin with slow, measured intensity. You exhaled sharply, your hands instinctively threading into his thick, dark hair, tugging gently—not to push him away, but to pull him closer.

Jason groaned softly against your neck at the sensation, his fingers tightening on your waist with just enough pressure to make you feel it. His mouth returned to your throat, his breath hot and ragged as he trailed slow, lingering kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck.

And then... he bit down—just hard enough to leave a sharp, stinging sensation that melted into something deeper, more intense. A gasp escaped your lips as Jason followed the bite with a slow, soothing kiss, his tongue flicking lightly over the spot.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice breathless, shaky—but filled with need.

He smirked against your neck, clearly pleased by your reaction—but there was nothing cocky about the way his breath shuddered, his hands trembling just barely as they roamed up your sides, exploring every inch of your bare skin.

Jason's lips returned to your neck with renewed purpose, his kisses growing more intense—hot, wet, and deliberate—as though he was claiming you with every kiss, every bite, every mark.

He sucked gently at the base of your neck, his teeth grazing sensitive skin before biting down again, harder this time—leaving his mark. A sharp, helpless whimper escaped your lips as your body arched beneath him, pulling him closer, deeper.

Jason groaned, low and rough, his voice thick with need as he kissed the freshly made bruise—possessive, protective, yours.

"Mine," he rasped against your skin—unspoken, undeniable, raw.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him up just enough to crash your lips against his in a desperate, hungry kiss. Jason kissed you back just as fiercely, his hands sliding up to cup your face with surprising tenderness even as his lips moved against yours with absolute intensity.

Before you knew he changed your positions. He hovered over you, his strong hands resting firmly on your waist, grounding you, anchoring you. His body radiated heat, and his touch burned where his fingers grazed your skin, leaving fire in their wake.

You could still feel the faint, lingering sting from the marks he'd left along your neck—his marks—possessive and unapologetic, like he wanted the world to know exactly who you belonged to.

But now... it was your turn.

Your breath hitched as you slowly dragged your hands down the hard planes of Jason's chest, tracing each scar, each line, savoring the way his breath stuttered beneath your fingertips. His muscles tensed with anticipation, every inch of him coiled like a spring just waiting to snap.

His gaze darkened, pupils blown wide with want as you let your hands drift lower, trailing down his stomach, feeling every ridge of muscle beneath your fingertips until you reached the waistband of his dark jeans.

Jason's breath shuddered audibly when your fingers brushed over the rough fabric of his belt, lingering just long enough to make his jaw clench. His fingers tightened on your waist, his grip firm, as though holding himself back.

You could feel the tension thrumming in his body—barely contained, ready to break. His blue eyes burned into yours, hungry and wanting, but still... waiting.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers found the button of his jeans. You toyed with it slowly, deliberately, watching the way his breath hitched, his entire body going still—tense—as though his entire world balanced on that single moment.

But before you went any further... you paused.

Your hands stilled, resting gently against his waistband as you lifted your gaze to meet his, your breath coming in uneven, your voice quiet but steady.

"...Is this okay?" you whispered, earnest, serious—vulnerable.

Jason's inhale was the only sound in the room. His eyes softened—just barely—but enough for you to see something deeper flicker behind them—something raw and real.

He exhaled slowly, his grip on your waist easing into something gentler—still firm, still grounding, but filled with quiet reassurance.

"Yeah..." Jason rasped, his voice wrecked, thick with emotion and need, but steady—certain.

His gaze held yours, steady and intense, as his hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your skin with reverence.

"You can—" He stopped himself, breathing out a shaky laugh, his expression softening with something almost... tender. His voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper.

"I want this... I want you."

His thumb brushed gently along your hip, grounding you as his intense gaze burned with trust and longing. "But only if you want it too."

Your chest tightened—not with fear, but with certainty, with need, with something far deeper than desire. You leaned forward, your hands resting firmly on his chest, feeling the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.

"I do," you whispered, voice fierce but soft, trembling but sincere. "I want you... Jason."

You unbuttoned his jeans with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his sharp intake of breath shattered the tense silence. The click of the button sounded almost deafening in the stillness of the room, followed by the soft whisper of the zipper being drawn down.

Jason's jaw tightened, a faint tremor running through his body as your fingers brushed over the exposed waistband of his briefs, the warmth of his skin searing beneath your fingertips.

His breath shuddered when you let your fingers trail lower, brushing lightly against the hard outline of his swollen length, already straining against the confines of his jeans. The sharp, ragged gasp he let out was wrecked, his head tilting back just slightly, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat.

"F—" Jason bit off the curse, his voice rough and hoarse, like he was fighting to hold himself together.

Your fingers moved again, slow but intentional, feeling the heat radiating from him as you pressed just lightly against his hardness through the thin fabric. His hips jerked involuntarily, a strangled, needy sound escaping his parted lips.

His hands tightened on your waist, trembling just barely, as though he was using every ounce of control to keep himself from pulling you closer, from taking more than you were offering.

His gaze snapped back to yours, intense, desperate, and pleading without a single word spoken.

You could see it all in his eyes—need, want, trust... and love. He was bare, stripped of every wall he'd ever built around himself, laid open only for you.

"... Are you sure this is okay?" you whispered, voice steady but soft, your hand resting just barely against him—asking, not demanding.

Jason's breath hitched again, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at you with something deep and unspoken.

"Yes..." he rasped, his voice trembling but firm. "God... yes."

His fingers loosened on your waist just slightly, his touch shifting from a firm grip to a gentle caress, grounding you even as his entire body shook with restrained need.

The sound Jason made was low, raw, and devastating, like something had broken inside him—but in the best way. His hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your bare skin with reverence, as if memorizing every inch of you.

Before he suddenly realized something as he looked back to see the slightly ajar door at the far end of the room, the faint hallway light spilling through like an unwelcome reminder of the reality beyond these four walls.

For a moment, Jason's expression shifted, his sharp features tightening with thought, instinct kicking in like it always did after years of surviving in the shadows. He was always aware of his surroundings—always watching, always calculating.

But this wasn't just anywhere. This was Wayne Manor. A place where privacy was a luxury, where anyone could walk by... or walk in.

His fingers lingered just barely against your bare skin, resting at your waist as he hesitated, clearly debating... thinking.

You could see the thought cross his mind—the realization—as his eyes flicked toward the door again before he exhaled sharply, muttering a quiet, "Damn it..." as he reluctantly pulled away, the loss of his warmth making your skin ache in its absence.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed with practiced ease, muscles still tense from more than just desire, his sharp gaze cutting back to you for just a heartbeat—checking, making sure you were still there, still his.

Without another word, Jason rose to his feet, his powerful frame moving with that same effortless grace he always carried, like he was born to be in motion. The faint creak of the floor beneath his boots was the only sound as he strode toward the door, his shoulders still slightly tense, as if expecting someone to appear on the other side.

He reached the door in two long strides and paused, his hand resting on the cold brass handle. His sharp eyes darted down the hallway one last time—searching, scanning, checking—before he quietly clicked the lock into place with a soft, resolute snap.

The sound seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, final and certain.

Jason lingered there for a moment longer, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, steadying breath, his fingers still resting against the locked door as if needing a moment to reassure himself—that this was safe, that you were safe.

Finally, he turned back toward you, his blue eyes locking onto yours—soft, focused, but still burning with that same fierce longing that never seemed to fade.

He crossed the room again with purpose, every movement deliberate but unhurried, his lips quirking into a faint, half-smile—almost teasing, almost smug—but there was something deeper behind it... relief. Need. Want.

Jason's voice was low, rough, but soft as he came to a stop at the edge of the bed, his hands resting firmly on the mattress on either side of you, caging you in once more.

"No interruptions," he replied, his voice thick with promise, his intense gaze flicking to the locked door before settling back on you—focused, possessive, and certain.

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his bare skin flushed from both exertion and anticipation. His hands hovered at the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans, his fingers twitching slightly as if weighing the moment—letting it sink in, letting you see him—all of him.

He was always in control, always ready, alert, prepared—but this was different. You made him feel different—unraveled, open, seen.

Jason swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he held your gaze—his expression flickering between desire and vulnerability, like he was offering something he didn't know he could.

Slowly—deliberately—Jason hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, his breath hitching slightly as he eased them down over his hips, inch by inch. The sound of denim sliding against his skin seemed deafening in the quiet, intimate space, leaving him standing there in just his dark briefs, his body tense, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath.

His intense gaze never left yours, watching every flicker of emotion across your face—searching, waiting, hoping—until he saw nothing but want reflected back at him.

With slow, measured movements, Jason's fingers grazed the waistband of his briefs, hesitating for just a heartbeat. The faint tremor in his hands was barely noticeable, but you felt it, saw the way his breath shuddered as he finally pushed the fabric down over his hips.

His briefs dropped to the floor, forgotten, leaving him fully exposed—unprotected—in a way that seemed more vulnerable than any wound he'd ever taken in battle.

Jason's chest heaved as he stood there, still, watching, his gaze fixed on yours—not with fear, but with trust, need, and hope—like he was waiting for your reaction, waiting for you to make the next move.

But there was no hesitation, no doubt in your eyes as you slowly rose up on your knees, closing the distance between you. Your hands reached out gently, fingers brushing against his waist, anchoring him, making him feel.

You could feel his body quake with restraint, his broad shoulders tight, like he was fighting against every instinct to take... have... claim. His need for control was practically etched into every line of his body—but right now, that control was hanging on by a thread.

Your hands slid slowly up his torso, savoring the way his breath hitched at every lingering touch across his toned stomach, every scarred ridge of muscle. His skin was warm, real, alive—a living map of battles fought and survived.

Jason's breath shuddered when your fingers drifted lower, tracing the lines of his hips, your touch deliberate and slow—teasing, exploring. His blue eyes never left yours, flickering with want, need, and something deeper... vulnerable trust.

"You're killing me..." he whispered, trembling with desire as his fingers tightened on your waist, digging just enough to make you feel how much he was holding back.

But you didn't stop—you couldn't. You wanted to see him fall apart, to watch Jason Todd—always in control, always ready—come undone because of you.

Your fingers grazed lower, dipping beneath the edge of his waistband, tracing the trail of muscle that disappeared beneath his skin. His hips jerked involuntarily at the touch, and a low, rough sound escaped his lips—a growl, raw, desperate, and completely unrestrained.

Jason's head tipped back for a brief second, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat as he sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

He bit back a curse, his body practically vibrating beneath your touch. His grip on your waist tightened, trembling just enough to show how much control he was losing.

You moved your hand lower—slow, intentional, watching every flicker of desperation and longing in his expression until your fingers finally brushed against his swollen ten inch dick.

Jason let out a broken, ragged groan, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily into your touch as though he couldn't help chasing the sensation. His intense blue eyes snapped open, darker now, completely consumed by you.

"Sh—" Jason exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you wrapped your fingers around his dick, feeling the heat, the hardness, and the faint tremor that ran through his entire body at the contact.

His reaction was instant—his hips jerked again, pushing into your hand with a barely restrained desperation, as though he was already too far gone to care about holding back.

His forehead fell against yours, his breath hot and uneven, every exhale spilling over your lips as he tried—and failed—to regain control.

"Shit..." he hissed, his voice rough with barely restrained need.

But you weren't done—not even close.

With deliberate slowness, you leaned in and pressed your lips to the hard plane of his chest, tasting the faint salt of his skin, still warm and flushed from your earlier touches. His breath shuddered again, his broad hands trembling as they gripped the bedsheets beneath him, like he needed something to ground himself.

Jason's sharp intake of breath turned into a low groan when your lips trailed lower, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down the center of his chest, following the faint line of an old scar that cut across his ribs. You traced the rough edge of the mark with your tongue, feeling the faint twitch of muscle beneath your touch as his hips jerked again, entirely helpless under your intentional exploration.

"Fuck.." he hissed, a needy sound tearing from his throat. His intense gaze dropped down to watch you, his pupils blown wide as if the sight alone was enough to drive him wild.

Your lips lingered just beneath his sternum, leaving another slow, lingering kiss against the sensitive skin there, savoring the way his entire body tensed beneath you. His breathing came in uneven, shallow bursts, his fists still clenching the sheets like he was using every ounce of control to keep from pulling you closer.

You let your free hand slide up, tracing a slow, teasing path down the line of his hip, feeling the way his body reacted—shaking, tightening, desperate. Every tremor, every ragged breath, every shuddering gasp only fueled your need to push him further.

"You're driving me insane..." Jason groaned as he bucked into your hand again, chasing more of your touch like he couldn't help himself.

"Good," you whispered against his skin, teasingly—but filled with want just as much as power.

You kissed lower, your mouth following the faint trail leading down his abdomen, feeling the sharp, defined lines of his stomach tighten beneath your tongue. His breath stuttered, chest heaving, his hands twitching as though aching to grab you—to anchor himself—but he didn't.

Jason was letting you lead... completely surrendered in a way you knew he never allowed himself to be.

You pressed another slow, deliberate kiss just above his waistband, feeling the way his entire body shook beneath you—needy, wanting, and bare in a way that made your chest tighten.

"Damn..." Jason moaned.

You could feel the faint tremor in his legs as you slowly trailed your hands along his thighs, feeling the way his breath hitched at even the lightest touch. His body was tight, coiled with tension—a mix of expectation and need that left him visibly shaking beneath your fingertips.

"You're killing me..." Jason whispered as his head tilted back against the pillows, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat as he struggled to breathe through the electric tension crackling between you.

His entire body shuddered when your hand wrapped around his swollen dick, feeling the heat, hardness, and the faint twitch of anticipation beneath your fingertips. His hips jerked involuntarily, chasing your touch like he couldn't help himself, a needy groan escaping his parted lips.

"F—..." he hissed, biting back a curse. His sharp blue eyes snapped back to yours, pleading, searching, as though waiting for you to end the torment.

But you weren't done teasing—not yet.

With deliberate slowness, you leaned in, letting your breath ghost over his dick, watching the way his entire body tensed, his fists clenching the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Jason's hips buckled just slightly when your lips brushed his sensitive skin, pressing the faintest, teasing kiss along his dick—just enough to leave him gasping for breath.

"Mhm..." he groaned, desperate, his voice breaking on the word.

His hands twitched, aching to touch you, to ground himself—but he held back, barely, like he didn't want to break the moment.

You met his desperate gaze, seeing the way everything burned behind his blue eyes—longing, trust, love. He was open in a way he never allowed himself to be, his control stripped away, leaving only you.

With slow, deliberate precision, you let your tongue trace a slow, lingering line from the base of his length to the tip, savoring the salty heat of his skin as Jason shuddered violently, his head falling back with a sharp, wrecked moan.

His breath hitched again, chest heaving, every muscle in his powerful body tightening beneath your touch as you explored him, tasting every inch of his sensitive skin with slow, intentional movements.

Jason's hips jerked, chasing your touch despite his best efforts to stay still, his hands fisting the sheets with helpless need. Every shaky breath, every low, desperate groan spilling from his lips only fueled your determination to push him further.

"Fuck..." he hissed through clenched teeth.

You pressed another slow, open-mouthed kiss along his shaft, feeling the way he throbbed beneath your tongue, completely lost in the sensation.

Jason's voice broke again as he gasped, his hips lifting instinctively, chasing more, his eyes blazing with plea and passion as he watched you through heavy-lidded, desperate eyes.

His trembling voice barely managed a ragged, "Please... don't stop..." as his hands fisted tighter, his entire body shaking with how badly he needed you.

Every inch of him was laid bare, exposed not just in body, but in soul, stripped of every defense he'd ever built. He wasn't Red Hood now—he wasn't the fighter or the survivor—he was Jason, your Jason, open and vulnerable in a way he'd never been with anyone else.

His hands gripped the sheets tightly, fingers twitching with barely restrained control as he watched you, chest heaving, his jaw clenched tight as though holding himself together was the only thing keeping him grounded.

But you weren't about to let him hold back—not tonight.

With deliberate slowness, you let your lips brush softly against the sensitive skin along his length, placing a slow, open-mouthed kiss at the base. Jason's breath shattered, a harsh, desperate groan ripping from his throat as his hips jerked involuntarily at the sudden warmth of your mouth on him.

"F—" he hissed sharply, his head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the strong line of his throat as his entire body tensed, muscles rippling beneath scarred skin. His eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving, as though trying to process the sudden rush of pleasure that overtook him.

You didn't let up—you couldn't. You needed to see him unravel, to watch Jason Todd—always in control, always ready for the next fight—come undone because of you.

Slowly, you flattened your tongue and traced a slow, deliberate path along his length, savoring the faint taste of salted skin, warm and alive beneath your lips. His hips jerked again, a low, wrecked sound tearing from deep in his chest as his fingers fisted the sheets tighter, clinging to them like his life depended on it.

"God—" Jason gasped.

His body was shaking beneath you, torn between holding still and chasing more, helpless under the heat of your mouth. His breath hitched sharply when you slowly took him in deeper, letting your lips stretch around his length while your tongue teased every sensitive inch.

Jason's reaction was instant—his hips jerked again despite his best efforts, a deep, wrecked groan ripping from his throat as though you'd stolen the breath right from his lungs.

"Shit..." he groaned, his head tossing back, exposing the taut, scarred line of his neck, his sharp jaw clenched tight as though he was desperately trying to hold on.

But he couldn't—not anymore.

His hips arched, pushing deeper into your mouth as he lost himself in the sensation, every sharp intake of breath shattering into ragged, desperate groans. His hands twitched, aching to grab you, to anchor himself, but he held back—barely—letting you lead, completely surrendered.

"Please..." Jason pleaded, trembling with desperation. His blue eyes fluttered open, glazed and dazed, burning with plea and longing as he watched you, utterly lost in the sensation.

The warmth of your mouth, the heat, the intimacy—it was too much, everything, perfect. He was melting, breaking, falling... and he never wanted it to stop.

"You feel... so good..." Jason groaned.

His fingers finally loosened their tight grip on the sheets, you barely had a chance to catch your breath when Jason's hands grasped your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, sending a thrill down your spine. His grip was secure, steady, but not demanding—asking, needing.

Without warning, he moved—swift and decisively —rolling you seamlessly beneath him in one fluid motion, his powerful body hovering just above yours. His strong hands pressed into the mattress on either side of you, caging you in—but instead of feeling trapped, you felt protected, anchored.

Jason's breath hitched, his intense gaze burning into yours, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts as if he couldn't quite process what was happening.

"I need you..." he whispered.

Before you could respond, Jason's hands were already moving, desperate but careful, gentle but intentional. His rough, calloused fingers traced slow, deliberate paths along your sides, grazing the sensitive skin of your waist, leaving fire in their wake. He paused just briefly, as if silently asking for permission, his breath shaking with restraint.

"Jason..." you breathed, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with need, trust, and love.

That was all he needed.

Jason moved, his fingers hooking beneath the hem of your shirt, tugging it up in one smooth motion, exposing your bare chest to the cool air. His sharp blue eyes darkened, his gaze scorching as he took you in, his breath shuddering like he was seeing something precious—sacred.

"You're... perfection," he whispered roughly, almost disbelieving, the words slipping free before he could stop them. His voice trembled with something real, raw, and aching.

You barely had time to process the sincerity in his voice before his mouth claimed yours again—fierce, hungry, and needy. His lips moved against yours with desperate intensity, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, like he couldn't stand the distance between you.

His hands moved again, rough, urgent, tracing the waistband of your pants before pausing—his breath hitching just barely, his gaze flicking back to yours, silently asking, pleading, his sharp features softening with vulnerability.

"Is this... okay?" Jason asked you in a low voice.

"Yes... I'm yours," you whispered, fierce and unwavering, your voice steady but soft, filled with trust and certainty.

Jason let out a shaky exhale, something in his expression breaking, his eyes softening with relief—and love.

"Good..." he growled softly, possessive, but tender, his fingers tightening their hold as he tugged your pants down in one smooth, determined motion, baring you fully to his intense, hungry gaze.

His hands slowly slid down the curve of your hips, his breath hitching when his fingertips brushed the inside of your thighs, pausing for a moment—asking, waiting, needing you to want this too.

"Can I...?" Jason whispered, his voice filled with care—still asking even when you were already his.

"Yes... Jason... please," you breathed, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with want, trust, and need. You couldn't hide the desperation in your tone, couldn't stop yourself from reaching for him, from wanting him closer.

Jason's intense gaze softened at your words, something deep and unguarded flickering behind his blue eyes—relief, devotion, love.

With a exhale, he slowly shifted, his hands sliding beneath your thighs, lifting them with gentle strength, his thumbs tracing slow, reverent circles against your skin as he spread your legs apart. His fingers trembled just barely, as though still processing that this was real, that you were his.

“God... you're so fucking beautiful..." Jason whispered, the words slipping free before he could stop them.

His hands tightened their grip—secure, steady, grounding—as he gently guided your thighs open, positioning himself between them with a deliberate, controlled intensity that left your heart pounding in your chest.

His eyes never left yours, searching, watching every flicker of emotion on your face, every tremor of desire, every gasp that escaped your lips.

Jason settled between your thighs, his broad frame fitting perfectly against yours, pressing you firmly into the mattress without ever making you feel trapped—only safe, only wanted, only needed.

His chest pressed against yours, warm and solid, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in slowly, deliberately, letting his lips brush against your skin with agonizing tenderness. You felt the soft scratch of his stubble, the heat radiating off his body as his mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck, claiming every inch of skin he could reach.

You gasped sharply, your hands finding his back, fingers digging into his taut, muscular shoulders as he pressed closer, the weight of him settling perfectly between your thighs, making you ache for more.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice trembling with want and need, begging without even realizing it.

Jason groaned low in response, his breath shuddering as his hands tightened on your thighs, holding you securely, firmly, like he needed you to stay right there, like letting go wasn't an option.

"I've got you..." he whispered, voice thick with emotion, his intense gaze locking onto yours once more. "I'm right here..."

Jason slowly shifted, positioning himself perfectly between your open thighs.

You felt the heat of him pressing against you, solid and hot, making your breath hitch in anticipation. Jason groaned softly, his forehead resting against yours as he adjusted, his fingers tightening their hold on your thighs with a protective intensity, anchoring both of you in the moment.

Then, with one slow, controlled movement, Jason pressed forward, slipping inside of your hole with agonizing deliberateness, his breath breaking into a sharp, ragged gasp as he finally filled you.

The sensation was everything—intense, deep, perfect. The stretch, the heat, the way he fit against you—in you—felt so right it stole the air from your lungs.

"Oh— Jason...!" you gasped, your voice trembling with a moan, your head tilting back as pleasure spiked through every nerve in your body. Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, clinging to them as though they could keep you grounded.

Jason groaned, his hips trembling as he fought to keep himself controlled, steady, his jaw clenching with the effort.

"Shit..." he hissed, breathless, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he felt you—all of you—wrapped around him so tight, so perfectly that his entire world seemed to tilt. His fingers dug into your hips just enough to keep him grounded, to anchor himself in the overwhelming sensation.

"You feel... so good..." Jason groaned, his voice breaking on the words, filled with wonder and disbelief, as though he still couldn't quite process that this was real—that you were his.

Your body arched into him, your thighs tightening around his waist as you let out another sharp, breathy moan, your fingers dragging down the hard planes of his back, feeling every tense, straining muscle beneath your fingertips.

"Jason..." you whispered helplessly, your voice shaking with pleasure, desperation, and love.

Jason pulled back just enough before slowly thrusting forward again with deliberate, controlled intensity.

His rhythm was slow, sensual, each movement intentional, measured—worshiping. Every slow roll of his hips sent waves of pleasure through your entire body, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

"You feel... so good..." Jason whispered, his eyes never left yours, watching, memorizing every gasp, every moan, every shudder he drew from you.

"Jason..." you whimpered, your fingers dragging down his back, feeling every tense, straining muscle move beneath your touch. "Don't stop... please..."

"I won't..." Jason growled softly, promise etched into every ragged word. "I've got you... I'm not going anywhere."

His pace stayed slow, steady, deep, his hips rolling in a way that made your entire body tremble. Each thrust was precise, intimate, personal—filled with love, devotion, and longing.

A soft, needy moan escape out of your mouth as you leaned up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, your fingers tangling into his thick, dark hair as you pulled him closer, until there was no space left between you.

Jason let out a low groan, his grip on your waist tightening as your lips brushed against the side of his neck, feeling the warmth of his pulse pounding beneath your mouth. His entire body shuddered, his sharp inhale sharp, like he hadn't expected the rush of sensation.

You lingered, your breath hot against his skin, placing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath his ear, feeling the faint scratch of his stubble against your lips. His hips jerked, pressing deeper against you, a broken gasp escaping from his lips.

Jason pulled you even closer, anchoring you like he couldn't stand the thought of letting you go.

"Jason..." you moaned, his name spilling from your lips in a soft, breathy whimper as you pressed another kiss into the curve of his neck, slow, intentional, savoring the way he shuddered beneath you.

"Say that again..." Jason growled softly, his voice low and dangerous, thick with desire and need, like the sound of his name from your lips was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Jason..." you whispered again, breathless, your lips brushing against the taut, straining line of his throat as you kissed him deeper, feeling the way his entire body tightened in response. "Jason... please..."

His breath hitched, his forehead falling against yours as he groaned your name in response, desperate and wrecked, trembling like he was losing control.

"You're... gonna kill me," Jason muttered, his voice breaking as his lips brushed yours in a slow, tender kiss that was somehow fierce, devoted, and loving all at once. "God... you're perfect..."

His hands gripped your hips, steady and firm, grounding you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His fingers tightened, pressing just enough to leave a burning trail across your skin, not from possession, but from need, want, and worship.

Your hands slid up his back, fingers digging into the hard planes of his shoulders as you held him closer, urging him deeper.

His blue eyes softened, something deep and unguarded flickering behind the desire—love, trust, and something more, something real. He lowered his forehead against yours, steadying himself, his lips brushing yours in a soft, reverent kiss filled with everything he couldn't say.

With one slow, deliberate movement, Jason pressed forward, his hips rolling as he slipped inside you with such precision. His breath hitched sharply, a low, wrecked groan tearing from his throat as he felt you—all of you—surrounding him, holding him, pulling him in.

The sensation was everything. He filled you completely, stretching you with perfect, intense fullness, leaving you gasping, your back arching off the mattress as a sharp, breathy moan spilled from your lips.

"Fuck— Jason...!" you cried, your voice trembling with pleasure and want, helpless against the overwhelming sensation of having him so deep, so intimately connected.

Jason shuddered, his body trembling as he buried himself fully inside of your hole, his chest heaving, muscles taut as he held still, giving you a moment to adjust. His sharp jaw clenched, and his hands dug into your waist, grounding himself as his breath staggered, spilling into the heated space between you.

"F—... You feel... so fucking good," Jason groaned.

Your body tightened around him instinctively, drawing another deep, desperate groan from his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezing shut for just a moment, overwhelmed by the pleasure that consumed him.

"Jason..." you whimpered, your voice shaking, filled with want and need, pleading for him to move, to never stop. You arched beneath him, your thighs tightening around his waist, urging him closer, deeper.

"I'm right here..." Jason whispered, his breath shaking as he slowly pulled back, only to thrust forward again with deliberate intensity, filling you to the hilt with a deep, slow roll of his hips. "I'm not going anywhere..."

The sensation was overwhelming, perfect, each slow, sensual thrust sending shockwaves through your entire body, leaving you gasping and aching for more.

"I want to see you... All of you..." Jason voiced, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let me..."

You could feel the tension in his strong arms, the way his fingers flexed against your waist, fighting to stay in control, even though his entire body shuddered beneath yours, aching for more.

"Take what you need..." he whispered, his voice rough, filled with love and desire. "I'm yours..."

Before you could process the depth of his words, Jason's hands shifted, guiding your thighs slowly until you were straddling him, your knees bracketing his solid, strong hips. His eyes burned with intensity, searching your face for any sign of hesitation—but there was none.

You were his, and he was yours.

His hands tightened around your waist, his strong fingers digging in just enough to make you feel how much he needed this—how much he needed you. He held still, his breath shuddering as he watched you, waiting, letting you lead.

A slow shaky breath escaped your lips as you sank down onto him, feeling every inch stretch and fill your hole completely. A helpless moan spilled from your lips, your back arching as the intensity of being so close, so connected, overwhelmed you.

Jason let out a broken, wrecked groan, his head falling back against the pillows as his hips jerked instinctively, chasing more of your warmth. "Shit... You feel... fuck," he whispered as his hands tightened on your waist, anchoring you firmly in place.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice breathless and shaking, your nails dragging down his taut, muscular chest as you adjusted, savoring the way his body tensed beneath your touch.

Then you started moving, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles as you ground against him, feeling the way his entire body shuddered beneath you, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts.

"Fuck... Just like that..." Jason groaned, his fingers digging deeper into your waist, guiding your movements while still letting you lead. His blue eyes burned into yours, dark and consumed, like you were the only thing that existed in his world.

Your breath hitched as you moved faster, feeling the way his hips thrust up to meet yours in perfect rhythm, filling you with every slow, deep stroke. The intensity of being so close, so connected, left you breathless, your body shaking from the pleasure building between you.

"God dammit..." you moaned, pleading, your fingers clutching his shoulders as your movements quickened, driven by need, love, and something far deeper than desire.

With one strong thrust, he pulled you down harder, his hips slamming into yours, drawing a sharp, helpless cry from your lips. His breath shuddered, his forehead falling against yours, his hands sliding up your back, holding you close, keeping you safe even as he lost himself in you.

You let out a breathless moan as your hips rolled against him, feeling the stretch, the heat, the way he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, perfect, and left you aching for more.

A groan escaped Jason's parted lips.

"Just like that..." he whispered, his hands flexing on your hips as though fighting to keep control. "Hold on..."

Jason pulled you down while lifting his hips, filling you so deeply that a helpless cry spilled from your lips. Your fingers clutched at his broad shoulders, digging in as you shuddered beneath the force of his movement.

“Fuck..." Jason groaned as he watched you intensely. "That's it... Just like that... I've got you."

He set the rhythm, controlling your movements with expert precision, slowly at first—each deep, rolling thrust deliberate, intentional, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. His breath shuddered with effort as he watched your reactions, his grip steady but firm, guiding you exactly how he wanted.

"Jason..." you gasped as you clung to him, begging for more.

"I know..." he whispered with full devotion. "I know, baby... I've got you... I'm right here..."

His pace quickened, his thrusts growing stronger, deeper, until you could feel him completely—intense, all-consuming, perfect. Each snap of his hips sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body, leaving you breathless, helpless, wrecked.

"You're mine..." Jason growled, his voice low and possessive, his fingers tightening on your hips as he drove into you harder, deeper, like he couldn't get enough. His lips brushed yours in a fierce, desperate kiss, swallowing your moans as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Say my name..." he demanded softly, his voice breaking with need, his forehead pressed against yours, his hips rolling into you with intense precision.

"Jason...!" you cried, helpless, your voice trembling with pleasure as your hands gripped his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you in reality.

"That's it.." Jason whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his rhythm never breaking, never stopping, his love etched into every thrust, every touch, every breath.

"I'm gonna cum..." you gasped with pleasure, helpless beneath the intensity of his touch.

His lips found your neck, hot and possessive, leaving a trail of fire down your jawline, his breath ragged and uneven as he groaned your name like a prayer. His hips rolled with perfect rhythm, hitting deeper, harder, right there, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"Cum, baby..." Jason whispered in your ear.

The pressure inside you built, hot and unstoppable, coiling tighter with every thrust, every touch, every breath shared between you. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming, intense—a storm you couldn't escape, couldn't fight, couldn't resist.

"Jason... please..." you cried out.

"I know..." Jason voiced, barely hanging on as his pace quickened, his hips slamming into you with purpose, power, and precision, driving you closer, higher, further. "Cum for me..."

Your body shuddered, trembling on the edge of release, every muscle tightening, every nerve sparking as the heat in your core exploded, spreading through you like fire.

And then—you broke.

"Jason—!" you cried, helpless and overwhelmed as pleasure erupted, unstoppable and all-consuming, crashing over you like tidal waves that left you breathless, shaking, and completely lost in him.

Your body arched against his, your head tilting back as you gasped for air, clutching him like he was the only thing keeping you together. His name spilled from your lips in ragged, pleading cries as the pleasure surged again and again, leaving you dazed and wrecked in his strong, steady arms.

Jason let out a shaky, low groan, his breath breaking as he felt you tighten around him, his entire body tensing, trembling, losing control right along with you.

"Fuck—" Jason gasped, his hips stuttering, jerking into you with desperation, his breath hitching as he followed you, breaking apart in your arms with a raw, helpless sound torn from his chest.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close, securing you, like he couldn't stand the thought of being anywhere else. His forehead pressed against yours, his blue eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps.

"I love you..." he whispered such with emotion, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss that felt like promise, devotion, and love.

#dc #dc x male reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x male!reader #x male reader #batboys #jason todd #jason todd imagine #smut #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake

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