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toast-on-dandelioms · 8 months ago

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🕷️Just Another Neglected Story🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.1 - [next]

Any names that you find familiar, in this part, were taken (with permission) from the fanart made by @the-broken-truth, while some changes like description of what's happening were made by me then modified by my beta reader, my bbg, Jamie.

tw: Joker, angst/no comfort, small description of injuries, small description/mention of a panic attack (I am unsure if it was that, please tell me if I am wrong).

Weeks passed with you still being Spider and a 'normal' teenager at the same time. But some changes and new things happened in these weeks.

You got visited by Superman almost daily, or nightly since he always visited when you were patrolling at night. You never questioned how he knew where to find you, you didn't want to think about it and just let him follow you during your nightly patrols.

He also helped you train while using all of your strength because you usually held back in fear of hurting people, so his tips helped a lot considering that he also had the same problem before.

Furthermore, now that you started to help with small problems around Gotham, like small thefts and gang problems, those problems started to slowly stop, giving you more time to train with Superman and help around the community.

You still didn't join the Bats or even the Justice League whenever Superman tried to propose it, you just didn't want to fight big shots like Joker or other super villains.

You liked doing small things and loved seeing the change it brought from you helping.

Just defeating super villains won't reward you with a pie from the nice old lady after helping her move her things in the apartment and give her groceries if she can't go to the supermarket, or getting drawings of little kids after you help them go home safely.

You also scored candies whenever the moms had them, which made you incredibly happy because they always had the candies you loved.

So you were happy, especially since Alfred never mentioned your breakdown after that night and kept on the usual routine of leaving your food on the desk in your room so you wouldn't have to come down to the kitchen.

You did notice him acting a bit weird but you pushed those thoughts aside since you didn't really notice anything weird happening around the Manor so you thought he was just nervous for something Bruce did.

You gave him too much trust and sooner than later you will regret doing that.

But something did change around the Manor, you just didn't notice because you started to walk on the ceiling, without shoes or Alfred would kill you, to avoid annoying encounters with anyone in the house, even if listening to music while on the ceiling was a bit difficult but you’re managing.

Well, Alfred knew that if he walked to Bruce and told him about you and what you felt he would've been ignored, especially since Bruce barely remembers that you even exist in the Manor and that you're a member of the family.

And even if Bruce did remember that you exist he would be annoyed, especially since he clearly hated your mother and was only paying the child support because he had to, especially since your mother threatened to take him to court if he wouldn't pay when he first got the news.

Talking to any of the batkids would've also been useless, because he also knew that no one in the Manor remembers you, especially now that you could walk on walls no one could even see you.

He couldn't count how many times he almost got a heart attack whenever he could see you on the ceiling, just hanging out or doing your homework, even though he still didn't understand how you could work without gravity making everything fall.

So he decided to do it in small steps, starting with leaving photos of you around the house in places where everyone sees them.

He put almost every picture that he owns of you, like you at a dance recital as the lead dancer or you at a science fair to which you won first place with an invention of yours.

One thing Alfred knew by putting your photos was that every person would notice how in all your photos you were alone and how your face never showed any emotion.

He knew it was small but he couldn't wait anymore, he needed to take action now or before you decided to leave for the Kent family, he couldn't let you go after he heard you talk about Clark and Conner while he made food in the kitchen.

He just hoped it wasn't too late for you, especially with your break down. He hoped you could still let someone in after all these years of being alone.

He did try his best but he was only a butler and he couldn't change someone's view of another person if that view was filled with hatred.

And you never noticed thanks to your walking on the ceiling or walls, moreover, you couldn't care less if they actually noticed you now. You were finally moving on and having a new start thanks to Spider.

But now it's not the time to think of Alfred's attempt of getting you acknowledged by the family, you were getting busier thanks to all the work as Spider, school and also dance classes.

You also kept on using yourself as a test subject, just to check the process of the spider DNA that's now in your DNA and seeing if anything changed or you had some mysterious new powers, taking videos to record the process of your evolution with the now Spider DNA in your body.

One thing you acquired after a while was invisibility, or camouflage as you called it since invisibility sounded magical and you didn't want it to sound like you were a kid.

How you found out you could use it was not a good experience.

You were in the kitchen with Alfred, just hanging out with him while he cooked when Damian suddenly entered the room to ask Alfred for some food for a new pet that he adopted.

In your panic at the sheer thought of Damian seeing you and hurting you like he did in the past made you freeze up, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes that he would just disappear from existence. Praying to every god you could recall that Damian wouldn't find you, you tried to not breathe too loudly so he wouldn’t hear you.

After a few minutes of paranoia passed and you didn't hear anything around you, you slowly opened your eyes and saw Damian still waiting for Alfred to give him the food for a cat he adopted and completely ignoring you.

You were still scared he would see you so you stayed silent and waited patiently, albeit apprehensively, for him to go away before actually making a sound, which was a loud sigh of restrained relief as air poured back into your lungs. Somehow you hadn't noticed that you'd been holding your breath the whole time. Strange.

You slowly got down from the counter you were sitting on and walked up to Alfred, confused as to why the old man wasn't looking at you and instead was looking at the ceiling before softly calling out his name.

You got even more confused and slightly worried when he got scared since you were standing right in front of him but he, for some reason, couldn't see you.

After a bit of Alfred trying to explain that he couldn't actually see you and you not understanding why, you finally managed to make yourself visible.

You quickly went to work at the corporation to take a few tests to see what happened and didn't see anything with those tests but after a few days of trying to understand what happened and how you could make it happen again, you managed to go invisible on command.

It took a bit but you managed to do it, which got extremely useful to sneak into the kitchen when you need to get some snacks in the middle of the night so that Alfred doesn't catch you on the wall eating chips at 3 am.

Plus thanks to that time you found out that your eyes glow in the dark, which was a bit weird since the spider that bit you wasn't a bioluminescent one but you figured it was your own DNA that changed some things.

In the time following that discovery and training with Clark, you slowly started to join him in solo missions for the Justice League, but made sure to tell him that you didn't want to partner up with another person except him.

And you made sure that he knew you weren't an official member of the Justice League or of the Young Justice League, you just joined him so you wouldn't get rusty since Gotham is still filled with crime but fighting with teens or men who just swing a crowbar or knife is not really challenging.

You didn't want anyone except Clark to join those solo missions, not because you were scared of hurting another person since you learned to control your strength thanks to him and got pretty good with your spider senses.

You just hated being around people you didn't know or trust, especially if they were a member of the Wayne family, you absolutely detested them.

You refused to look at them and especially talk to them even though you had the voice modulator.

One of the many reasons you used the voice modulator was to not get recognised but also because you hated your own voice and the voice modulator helped when talking to lost kids or just kids in general.

You never told anyone why you hate your voice, you just refused to talk one day and learned asl to communicate with people and also used notes if people didn't know asl.

The mask was like a hearing aid, it changed your voice and helped you use it more so you could talk sometimes.

As time passed, the birdies (basically all of Bruce's kids, you just called them all bird to show how much you didn't care about them) kept on trying to talk to you and showing up where you were when you were patrolling.

You had a list of most annoying to less annoying since you couldn't really do much about them, especially since Clark forbade you to throw another one of them off a roof if they got too close to your liking or just breathed wrong.

They never sustained grave injuries since you always threw them to another building or a dumpster, or to Superman if he was around.

Most of the time in a dumpster to make yourself smile since you would take a photo then swing away before they could do anything, but they started to pose whenever you would take a photo, making you annoyed and ruining your fun.

The most annoying was Dick, with how persistent he was even if he was stuck on a wall thanks to your webs when he got too close or made you uncomfortable by continuing to call you nicknames that he would use with Damian and Tim.

You hated how he would just laugh and call you his little sibling, especially since he would never call you that if you didn't have a mask on and you felt that it was unfair that he suddenly cared about you just because of the mask.

It made you feel like you were getting ignored and forgotten once again but this time to a version of you that he likes while the one behind the mask is always getting ignored.

Just like at the Manor, the real you will never be appreciated and accepted with love.

The second most annoying in the list is Tim, it was gonna be Damian but Tim took second place with how creepy he is around you and how he knows too much of what you do.

Like, you knew he's the one who knows everything about every hero and villain since you saw him work on the bat-computer while you were stealing a few grappling hooks for your web shooters since they broke. (You were invisible and you got lucky that Cassandra wasn't there or she would've found you immediately.)

But seeing him open a folder and watching how many videos and photos he has of you in the bat-computer, like when you were fighting some gang members or when you were helping some nice old lady crossing the street.

If anyone else showed you their collection of you doing badass or just normal stuff while you were a vigilante then you would've felt impressed and very honored because you never thought someone would actually go out their way to be a fan of you.

But seeing Tim, someone you still had some respect for, having so many files, especially from when you first started and hit so many walls while swinging around made you weirded out and somehow violated, especially with how concentrated he was while staring at the videos.

Seeing that folder and all the information he had on you made you lose all the respect you still had for the boy.

Another thing he did was that, whenever you met him while patrolling or eating a few hot dogs with your favorite guy, he would always talk of things you did like he was there and creeped you out so much that you had to restrain yourself from throwing him off a roof or wherever you two were.

Most of the time you just tased him and went your way, paying the hotdog guy a little extra so he wouldn't stop selling you hot dogs.

You're also starting to think that hot dog guy is using you for the tips since you always tip him 50$ or more to stay silent and let you grab more hot dogs from him.

Third annoying but still so annoying that you want to punch his face is Damian. Mostly because he treats you like you're his older sibling.

Like he respects you and looks up to you. But you knew it was because of the mask since you also knew that if you ever took off the mask in front of him he would try to kill you.

You have to be supervised by Clark and even Jon since your only solution to get rid of Damian when he’s around you is throwing him off a roof without worrying about not using your super strength.

You hated the kid and didn't really hide it but he never said anything about it since he thought you two were bonding and you acting like you hate him is normal.

You wanted to tase him when he dared to call you his older sibling in Arabic, hating the look on his face that had so much adoration and admiration for you since it actually made him look like a normal teen.

(You learned some Arabic to get close to Damian when you found out where he was from when you were young)

Like he didn't create so many scars on your arms and legs with his sword and those batarangs. Like he didn’t make you so afraid of the Manor that Alfred had to assure you that he wouldn’t hurt you or you would get a panic attack by getting near the Manor.

Least annoying but still annoying is Jason Todd. You hate that mask he wears because you can't see his face and know what he’s really thinking about, and especially how he acts like you two are two old friends who meet up everyday.

You hate how he pats you on the head when you're distracted, since the spider sense doesn't really deem him a threat for you, and manages to evade your attempts to kick him away or throw him off a roof, laughing whenever you try to do so.

Like you two were just playing and you weren't angry at him and wanting to throw something at him but couldn't.

So your one solution was ignoring him and walking to the side of the building so he wouldn't reach you since he couldn't walk on walls like you.

Which did make you smug whenever he complained about it on the roof of the same building, finding it funny when he acted all offended when he understood you were smug by how you were acting even if your mask didn’t show your face.

Yea you and Jason did get along sometimes, most of the time if you were having a nice day and if he was the first one you would meet of the birds.

You had a decent relationship with Jason, yes you did have fun sometimes but you wouldn't call him a friend or even your brother.

Plus you never forgot about the years he would ignore you and especially when he punched you in the eye and didn't even apologize decently.

Or how he would complain about how terrible of a father Bruce is, or how annoying Dick is to anyone else while you would just stand there, completely ignored since he was probably talking to someone else or to himself.

And acted like he was the only one who's life was 'ruined' when Bruce got in his life when he's still loved even after everything he's done.

Even though he's still remembered every Christmas and given big gifts that means that the person who bought them thought of him, and birthday while no one even remembered you had a birthday and you always celebrated it with a cupcake or some friends.

So you preferred to ignore him or you would punch his skull if he tried to complain one more time about Batman and his death.

Not like Cassandra, Duke and Stephanie were any better.

Cassandra was annoying because of how silent she was. You always managed to see her but you knew she wanted you to see her.

Plus, 'hanging out' with her was just you doing your usual stuff while she followed since you couldn't push her away like the others.

And fighting wasn't in the option since she could kick your ass with just a hand and without moving, so you just ignored her, even though your spider sense was always going crazy when she was around since she was a walking threat.

Even five minutes with her would give you the worst headaches that you had to ask her to stand very far or you wouldn't be able to even walk around without wanting to puke.

You hated her because she was taken in by Bruce like you but instead of being hated because of her upbringing, she got accepted with open arms and he always loved her.

What did she have that you didn't?! Why does she get all the attention and love you always wished for while you're getting forgotten and hated?!

You saw her getting accepted, getting all the love you always wished for, seeing your father going to her dance recitals while he didn't even bother to even acknowledge that you do the same sport as her but in a different and smaller dance studio since you couldn't afford to go to the one Cassandra goes because of how expensive even one lesson was.

Stephanie was another person you hated. You knew of her past, you used the bat-computer whenever no one was in the batcave when you managed to control the invisibility.

You knew about what her dad did. You understood her reasoning to become a vigilante. You didn't hate her for her past, god you didn't even care who her father was.

You just hated her because of how loved she was by everyone. She was like Cassandra but once again, all the love was going towards the two and it never even touched you.

You did try to bond with her when you arrived at the Manor but she did look like she wanted to be everywhere but not with you.

Even when you only talked about things you knew she loved, it still wasn't enough for her. She still avoided you and preferred to spend time with either Barbara, Dick or Tim.

And after a bit you gave up and let her live her life without you in her way since she clearly didn't care about you.

The worst part was that everyone prefers Spider than you, since she also keeps trying to hang out with you when you're patrolling or spending time with kids and teens.

Or getting beat during a game of basketball since you sucked at that game and the teens you played with would tease you which made you laugh since you liked spending time with people the same age as you.

But it would be ruined when she would show up, wanting to play too even though she would just play with you and make it obvious she wanted to make you win.

Which ruined the game entirely for you and always made you leave after a bit with the excuse of being busy as a vigilante, which made the teens and also Stephanie confused.

Duke was the only one of them that you knew tried to hang out with you when you weren't Spider. That's why he was one of the ones you hang out with most if he came to see you while you were patrolling.

He came when you were almost 15, you didn't remember how old you were but you knew he was one of the ones who actually paid attention to you.

But after a while, all his duties as Signal, as a high schooler and as one of Bruce's kids made him too busy for him to spend time with you, to which he explained whenever he was late for something you two planned to do.

And you understood, you cheered for him from the back and always smiled at him whenever he was with you as Signal, even if he couldn't see it. And he did tell you the best places to get food during patrols so you liked him for that, but you remained loyal to the hot dog guy.

But then there was Bruce, acting like he was the savior from his kids that kept annoying you even though he wasn't any better than any of his kids, he was one of the worst in terms of how annoying he was.

He was starting to compete with Dick for the first spot on your list, which you didn't like since you just wanted to be alone, or with Duke and Jason.

Like he would keep on calling you kid and other nicknames you heard him give to his sons over the years, which made you sick because it reminded you of when you were little and that your biggest wish was to also get a nickname like your brothers and sisters and spend time with him as your father even if he never paid any actual attention to you.

But what you hated most was how he always smiled softly at you, even when you tried to kick him away and he would just grab your ankle like it was nothing, like you were his favorite child. Like he didn't tell you that he would never be a father to you when you gave him a father's day card when you were 12 and trying to bond with him.

Looking at you with so much love and adoration, making you disgusted since he was the same man who once looked at you with disgust and hatred just for entering his office because you needed his signature for something.

The same man who clearly told you to not expect him to treat you like his child since you weren't. You were just an annoying kid who had to come to his house since no one else wanted to take you in.

You wanted to puke whenever he looked with love, refusing to forget about everything he did just because you were a child of someone he hated.

You understood why Bruce hated your mother, you couldn't force everyone to like what you like, but you still didn't understand why he had to ruin your life by keeping you with him.

He could have sent you to a foster home, he could have sent you to boarding school all your life so he could never see the face of the one he hates. But he didn't.

No, he decided to accept you in his home and ruined your life, making you miserable by keeping you there and then basically neglecting you and forgetting you even exist.

You wanted to puke whenever he looked at you with love when you were Spider, you had to take so many showers and had to scrub your skin so hard it turned red by how hard you tried to wash away his touch whenever he managed to actually touch you on either the shoulders or head.

You found comfort in Clark since he never forced you to interact with the Robins and Batman and understood why you hated them since you explained to him who you were but didn't tell him everything.

He did annoy you whenever he tried to suggest you to come with him to Metropolis even after you explained that you couldn't just move to another city right in the middle of the school year.

Moreover you were still a minor and you would need Bruce's consent, which you refused to ask since you refused to acknowledge that he was supposed to be your legal guardian.

Plus you always had fun with his kids when they were around since they would throw you in the air and catch you, making you laugh like crazy since their throw was like making you fly for like 2 minutes before catching you.

Conner was more fun to be around because he understood what you were going through since he also had problems with Superman when the kryptonian refused to accept the clone as his son.

Plus he always made the best jokes and made you laugh whenever you would have a bad day after seeing your legal guardian and his kids having a fun outing together while you were at the Manor since they didn't even remember you existed.

Or when you had a bad dance practice and almost destroyed your pointe shoes with your strength because you thought you weren't good enough to be a ballet dancer which spiraled to thinking that because of you not being good at dancing then you weren't good enough to be recognised by your legal guardian and his family.

He was more like an older brother than Dick, Jason and Tim ever were for you. And you didn't even care, you loved him as a brother and loved hanging out with him.

Jon was nice but he was also friends with Damian and you didn't really spend that much time with him because of that. You were scared Damian would be with him and you didn't want to see the evil spawn.

But the times you did hang out with him were nice, he always brought cake that his grandparents made and shared it with you while you listened to him talk about whatever he wanted.

He was fun and very nice but you weren't used to hanging around a small teen who actually wanted to be with you and actively seeked you out for your attention.

You were more used to a small teen who would glare at you and attack you if you dared do anything, even just breathing in his direction, the scars on your arms and back proved that.

But you never said anything to Jon about what his best friend did to you, you didn't want Jon to feel like he had to choose between two sides.

And you knew he would choose Damian's side, no one ever chose your side. You knew no one would even dare to be by your side.

Well after a while of going to missions with Clark and him letting you do most of the work as training with his close by to make sure you wouldn't get hurt, you were finally going on a relatively simple mission with Conner and unfortunately with Jason.

You knew Conner didn't want him there but he probably got Batman to convince Clark and him, so you didn't say anything to him about Jason being there and just stayed by his side while you were in the small ship.

The whole ride was spent in silence, only stopped whenever Conner would check the coordinates or by the sound of you fixing the web shooters to make sure they wouldn't go haywire when you were fighting.

You finally landed in the spot where you were supposed to start your mission, near the villain's lair, if you could call it that since it was an unused bunker a group of cultists found and are now living there, which made you get down eagerly since you wanted to finally do a mission without Clark's supervision.

But your excitement immediately died when you saw Stephanie waiting for you there, making you let out a loud string of curses.

And yes, you did ignore the message on your phone from Clark that said 'language' and just walked past Stephanie and Jason, just wanting to get the mission done and go home with Conner.

Plus he did promise you his grandmother's best pie if you finished the mission and you could not pass up the opportunity of getting another slice of that delicious pie.

As you walked up to the lair with Conner, you patted him on the back before standing in front of the door as Stephanie tried to open it by picking the lock. You waited exactly 10 seconds for Stephanie to unlock the door before pushing her away, kicking the door down with your strength since she was taking too long for your liking.

You didn't even care if they were watching, you just glared at them all in silence for a few seconds before they were able to hear you say.

"Stay here and you two don't follow me, Conner don't try anything or I will tell Clark"

Then, right in front of them you became invisible before walking off, the only sound they could hear were of your sneakers walking down the metallic stairs.

(Switch Pov to Stephanie)

Stephanie knew she wasn't the best person. She knew of her father's evil doings and she knew she wasn't the best Robin or the best vigilante.

But when she saw Spider, she thought that they were perfect. They were always helping people and never too busy for everyone.

She, at first, didn't even know who Spider is because of how busy she was with her life and her vigilante job. But when she saw Tim researching them, she was amazed.

She knew there were other vigilantes in the city, it was a big city but she didn't know about a vigilante who didn't fight big villains like the others.

She saw Spider helping old ladies, stopping small gangs from forming by helping the teens and just being an image for the people to rely on.

She knew Bruce stopped high grade villains like Joker or others but Spider, Spider was different.

They didn't fight Joker, no they just fought the criminals who would bother people that couldn't do anything to stop them.

She admired the vigilante and wanted to be friends with them, maybe one day she could convince them to join her and her family at the Manor.

But what she didn't understand even though she craved to know was why they hated her. Why they hated her and the rest of her family.

She tried so much, she craved their validation so much that she trained so hard and tried so many times to interact with them.

But she would keep on getting ignored or she wouldn't be able to follow them by the speed of them swinging or when they walk on walls to avoid her.

She cried so many nights at the thought of her idol, the one person she wanted, no craved validation would hate her so much when she can't even remember or know why they hate her so much.

But when she heard of Jason joining Spider for their first mission, she was so jealous that she used the bat-computer to check where Spider's mission was supposed to be and followed them in another ship.

She wanted to show to her idol how brave she was, so maybe they will praise her and laugh like when they're with Conner, Clark and Jon.

Plus she wanted to wipe Jason's smirk off his face since he kept on bragging about going to a mission with Spider for days and how he was the favorite since compared to the rest of them, he was the one who Spider stayed the longest before leaving or throwing him off the roof.

But all her excitement and hope died the minute she heard Spider curse when they saw her, her head slowly lowering as she tried not to cry.

And when Spider told them to stay there, god she wanted to protest but strangely Jason held her back and just told her to hack in the security system to watch Spider with the cameras.

She didn't understand why she couldn't follow Spider to help them but did as Jason told her to, watching all the cameras with him and seeing henchmen getting knocked out or tased by Spider even though they weren't visible.

Plus she found it hilarious when a goon got knocked out by a flying metal tray and the others just stood there confused before also getting knocked out by a taser or a punch then getting tied up on a wall or floor.

As she watched the security feed, she noticed that Spider entered the boss's sanctuary, filled with small and useless artifacts that the Justice League used to trace the villain so they could capture him and stop him before he tried to grow his cult or summon some demon.

She kept watching and trying to find a camera inside the sanctuary, starting to get annoyed and also panicking a little because if she couldn't see anything in the sanctuary then she couldn't call for backup if something went wrong, especially by how far Spider was, and even if they were going to help them, it would take too long.

She kept on switching cameras and trying to hack into anything that was electronic, getting more frustrated as time passed since she could see the villain approaching the sanctuary with someone next to him, making her confused since he wasn't supposed to have partners that helped him.

She managed to switch a camera in time to see Joker next to the villain, the blood in her face draining as she stared at the clown on her screen in silence, her eyes wide like bugs and no sound could be heard from all three of the teens.

She went back to where Spider was and noticed a camera was on, to which Stephanie immediately tried to warn them by moving the camera a bit but it was too late and both villains entered the sanctuary and closed the door so Spider wouldn't be able to leave without getting noticed by the cultist and the clown.

She watched the feed without moving any part of her body in terror that if she even moved then the two villains would notice Spider and do something horrible to them.

She gasped when she saw Joker suddenly pulling out a gun and pointing it at where Spider was supposed to be, not managing to hear what he was saying since the cameras were old and didn't register any sounds, plus his psycho-smile made it difficult for her to read his lips so she couldn't even use that to her advantage.

As Stephanie kept watching, not noticing that she was holding her breath by how focused she was on Joker then cursed loudly when she saw the screen turn black, throwing the tablet in anger as she got up, making signs for Jason and Conner to follow as she ran into the lair.

She quickly jumped over any henchmen on the ground, needing to get to Spider immediately and save them.

She had to help. She had to stop that psychopath from hurting them. She needed to protect them.

As she ran, her vision was starting to get blurry by the tears threatening to fall as she ran. As she ran, she suddenly got blocked by the metal door that was blocking her from saving Spider.

She immediately called Conner, wanting to use his strength to open the door but unfortunately he couldn't even throw a decent punch that could leave a dent on it.

Even after a few tries Conner didn't do anything so she started to try to open it by using the panel next to the door, her frustration already growing by how useless he was.

So Stephanie sent Conner outside to call Superman and Batman while she and Jason tried to open the door as they waited for the two heroes to arrive.

As the three of them waited for Batman and Superman to come, Jason and Stephanie saw something coming out the door that made their blood cold.

Some form of gas kept on coming out the door and the only thing they were able to hear were some noises of something or someone getting hit and coughing.

Stephanie did smell the gas, trying to pinpoint what the gas was but she couldn't recognise it since the only thing she could detect was that it had a sweet smell, which was nothing like all the gasses she ever smelled before.

The only thing she knew is that the gas wasn't the usual gas Joker uses on his victims since she wasn't laughing or having a maniacal smile but she still couldn't pinpoint what the gas was.

Stephanie stayed silent, trying not to show how terrified she was while Jason was trying to kick down the door while yelling curses directed at Joker.

Conner was outside the lair to use the ship and communicate with Batman and Superman, knowing they were both on different missions and he couldn't fly to both of them to ask for help, especially since he found out that he couldn't even fly, making him even more desperate for them to come.

As they waited Stephanie tried to make Jason stop punching the door when she saw his knuckles bleed, not wanting another one of her siblings get hurt because of her incompetence before looking at the door.

The blood drained from her face, her knees giving up on her and making her fall to the ground as she heard a scream, the cold metal floor the only thing she could feel at the moment.

She knew the scream couldn't be of Joker. He heard him yell before and this scream wasn't his. She hoped for every god as she tried to hack the panel of the door, even though she already tried before, with a bit of difficulty, her vision starting to blur as tears started to fall and her hands trembling as she was trying to ignore the multiple screams she kept hearing.

She couldn't let Spider get hurt, she should've been there to help them. They didn't deserve the pain and hurt she and almost all of the Robins went through because of Joker.

She stopped when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder, the realization that she was just messing up the wires and making it even more difficult for the door to be opened when she looked at her hands tangled in between the wires.

She looked up at the man and visibly relaxed, completely giving out on the floor as Jason helped her by cutting the wires tangled in her hands while Batman examined what was happening as Conner explained what he knew, Superman next to him and waiting for Batman to give orders since he knew that if he acted irrationally then Spider would be in danger.

(Switch to Bruce's POV)

Bruce knew he wasn't a good person and a hero like Clark and Diana, that's why he called himself a vigilante since heroes save people and stop criminals but he couldn't save everyone.

Sometimes he was too late and he couldn't save someone innocent that unfortunately crossed ways with a villain or a gang.

Another thing Bruce knew was that he wasn't the best father because he let his kids get hurt by going on patrols with him as a vigilante, not thinking about what could happen to them if they fought someone too strong or if he suddenly decided to make them stop being a vigilante by saying that it was to protect them, which made everyone sneak out to be a vigilante.

He had to bury his children too early because of vigilantism and couldn't help his son when he was being trained by the League of Assassins.

But when he saw Spider for the first time, seeing a child that looked no older than 14, maybe 15, made him think that maybe, maybe he could help this one become the best version of themselves.

And if he was good enough, he could be a father again and get another child saved from the darkness and evil that surrounds Gotham.

Even if the only evil Spider saw was him and his family.

One thing he hated was that he couldn't understand why Spider absolutely loathed him and everyone of the vigilantes who live or have lived under his roof.

He couldn't understand why and even after checking every mission he ever did that included helping kids/teens in Gotham, nothing gave him a lead as to why Spider hated him.

And the worst thing was that Spider decided, out of all the heroes and vigilantes in the world, and especially in the Justice League, to trust and get close to Clark.

To Clark! His enemy! He was supposed to be the one teaching Spider to control their strength! He was supposed to be the one laughing with them while eating hot dogs and sharing funny stories of stupid people they say during patrol.

(He knows about it thanks to a small camera he put on Clark’s costume after he found out that he and Spider got close)

He didn't trust letting them go on a mission even if Clark told him that they could and that they were ready.

He thought it was too early and that they weren't trained to fight villains like he and the others fight everyday, especially with Conner since he wasn't perfectly trained so he managed to convince Clark, with much manipulation and guilt tripping, to let Jason come with them if there was trouble.

He didn't know Stephanie would also be there, especially since he didn't talk about it in the batcave about the mission but he already guessed that Jason bragged about going so she also went to also see her idol, knowing about her obsession with Spider to which he didn't say anything but encourage it with his own obsession towards the arachnid vigilante.

Not that he minded, two of his kids were better than none and Spider needed all the protection necessary even if the mission was one of the easiest possible. Especially since he chose it as a way to make sure Spider wouldn't be in actual danger.

But the moment he got a message from Conner explaining that Spider was in danger because of Joker, someone who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, made his world crumble as he ran to where his jet was, needing to get there as soon as possible.

He couldn't let another person, no he couldn't let Spider get hurt or worse, killed, by the clown bastard.

He needed to save them, he needed to stop that fucking clown and he couldn't let Clark beat him to it. He knew that if he was the first one to save them, to help them then they would trust him more.

He couldn't lose that huge advantage to Clark or it would be impossible to even be able to get Spider to trust him or any of his kids. Which was already difficult but he saw them being more comfortable with Duke and Jason.

He arrived almost 3 seconds before Clark did, even though the kryptonian made his presence known since he made a crater at his landing and looked extremely infuriated as he walked towards Conner.

Bruce was already next to the boy and listening to his explanation on what happened, his usual frown that always made him seem annoyed with everything since he didn't want to show that he was scared.

He listened to superboy as he explained what happened in detail as they walked in the lair, a small smile appearing on his face whenever he saw henchmen and cultists knocked out and all tied up in Spider's web.

As they walked he noticed Conner and Clark weren't flying even if the space was big enough for them to even float, so he approached the boy, knowing it couldn't be Clark since the kryptonian was flying just two seconds ago, to see if he had anything on him and saw a familiar glowing green stuck to the boy's shirt.

He quickly grabbed it and put it in a container to block its effect since he knew it was kryptonite, the result showing on both kryptonians because they now could fly again.

He showed the container containing the kryptonite when both Supers looked at him "it was on Superboy's shirt, not sure who put it on him" he explained, now confused but especially enraged to who dared to interfere with the mission and put Spider in danger.

When they arrived at the door he saw something that made him frown more but also worried. He saw Stephanie continuing to tangle her hands in the wires of the panel next to the door, probably trying to open it but he saw her shaking and sobbing, making him understand that the girl was too focused on trying to save the vigilante inside the room that she couldn't focus on the task she was doing.

He then turned to Jason and saw him kicking the door and punching it, small dents on it to show how much strength he was putting in it and his bloody knuckles showing for how long he was doing that.

Bruce quickly checked on Stephanie and Jason before telling Superman to get rid of the door, the silence around them being too suspicious and dangerous since almost 2 minutes before they arrived both Stephanie, Conner and Jason could hear screaming from inside the room.

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gothcsz · 10 days ago

Text

El Cumpleañero | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~8.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

Tags: friends with benefits dynamic, jealous!javi (can't help myself), flirting, dancing, javi is a little ooc here but idgaf i need him (in my head he's a bit younger in this au), some untranslated spanish, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), back shots for days, a lil bit of exhibitionism on javi's part, creampie, one use of a degrading term (slut), some dirty talk, pussy pronouns, facial, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions of reader, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: hiiii everyone! this is my humble submission to @yxtkiwiyxt's never have i ever challenge with my prompt being never have i ever woken someone else because i was too loud during sex 🙈 kiwi bb tysm for hosting such a lovely writing challenge for us, i hope you enjoy this smutty fic! oh, and i am dedicating this one to @letsmeetintheafterglow, amorcito, you left such me a juicy request in my inbox for javi that i just had to write! so, i merged it with the challenge prompt 🖤 hope you dream of him tambien ☁️ also, i couldn't help but project my fantasy of wanting to dance to corrido/banda music with javier. i feel like he's actually a pretty good dancer! swinging ya around to the beat of the song with his hand at your lower back and a modelo in the other. ugh. the song la niña fresa basically inspired the nickname javi calls reader 🍓 and just sets the vibes, i think. as always, let me know that you think and thank you for reading 🖤

The backyard is buzzing with the chatter and laughter of what feels like half the town, the smoky scent of barbecue wafting through the air and the twang of a corrido blasting from oversized speakers, making the ground shake.

You walk through the fenced yard, the southern breeze grazing your skin as familiar faces nod or wave in passing. Your eyes scan the crowd, skimming past clusters of people dancing and conversing, all of them gathered to celebrate someone who swore he didn’t want a fuss.

Of course his family didn’t listen. They turned his “keep it small” request into a blowout, like they always do, inviting anyone and everyone. Not that he could stay mad—he never really does.

When you spot the man of the hour, the corner of your lips lift instinctively and your feet seem to move on their own accord, pulling you toward him.

He’s by the bonfire, the glow of the flames painting his chiseled features in shades of gold and shadow. He stands with his hip jutting out, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, sharing it lazily with two girls you barely recognize.

They hang on to his every little move, trying to soak up whatever attention he might spare. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed too many times, and you really can’t blame them.

You’ve been in their shoes (still are, truth be told), waiting for even a flicker of his focus to land on you, and you know all too well where that desperation led.

To his bed, on his tongue, his cock—you shiver at the memory, your nipples pulling taut.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t have to try to make hearts ache; it’s just who he is.

A walking daydream wrapped in leather and indifference, with that devil-may-care grin that promises trouble and delivers every time.

You roll your eyes and huff sassily, detouring toward one of the coolers instead. You grab a drink, making polite small talk with a couple of acquaintances, though you can’t keep your gaze from wandering back to him.

He’s already looking at you.

It stops you mid-sentence the way his brown eyes are fixed on you, heavy with intention.

The cigarette is at his lips, the faint glow of its cherry pulses when he sucks in then lets out a ribbon of smoke.

He makes it look so damn hot, it’s almost enough to persuade you into picking up the bad habit.

The curly haired beauty next to him is chattering a mile a minute, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

His focus remains locked on you, sweeping slowly—mischievously—down the length of your body. You can feel it, as sure as a touch, lingering at the deep neckline of your sweater then on the way your jeans hug your curves. It’s shameless, but that’s him, isn’t it?

Your smile tilts into a puckish smirk. Lifting your hand, you wiggle your fingers in a small wave.

It’s like striking a match. His gaze narrows slightly as if he’s trying to decide his next move.

He hands off the cigarette with a casual flick of his wrist and shifts his focus back to the girl beside him. She’s still rambling, her words tumbling over each other in an eager attempt to hold his attention.

He doesn’t bother pretending to care. Instead, he lets out an indulgent chuckle, shaking his head like whatever nonsense just came out of her mouth is equal parts adorable and absurd.

You almost feel bad for her. It’s hard not to fall for that sleazy charm—especially when it’s attached to a man that’s so fucking handsome.

When she swivels to chat with her friend, his eyes immediately find yours again. A cocky expression paints his countenance, one that practically asks: What the hell are you doing all the way over there?

You entertain the idea of making him wait, savoring the power in holding his attention hostage for just a moment longer. But who are you kidding? The magnetic pull he has over you is impossible to resist. It always is.

The small box tucked snugly in the back pocket of your jeans presses against you as you weave through the crowd, sidestepping a few overly tipsy guests and slipping past the fold-out tables scattered across the lawn.

“Hey,” you say, sliding yourself effortlessly between the two girls, not caring about interrupting their conversation. Immediately, their sharp side-eyes practically stab you with twin daggers of irritation.

You don’t flinch. You’re not here for them, anyway.

You only care about the pair of deep brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you. “Happy Birthday, Javier.”

A flicker of what looks like smugness and amusement crosses his face as he licks his lips, taking another measured drag.

He’s dressed in a variant of his signature look—a white button-up with a few buttons let loose to show off his neck and the top of his chest, despite the brisk autumn air, and a worn brown leather jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

However, it’s the ridiculous tiara perched atop his head that catches your eye, and the sight makes you frown ever so slightly when you notice the matching glittery ones on his groupies, like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of.

For some inexplicable reason—it rubs you the wrong way. You can’t believe you’re slightly jealous of it. How stupid.

“Thank you, fresita.”

Ugh, that infuriating nickname. You’d been charmed by it at first, assuming it was something sweet and impish. It wasn’t until Chucho let it slip that it’s also used to describe a woman that’s spoiled and picky that you realized it wasn’t just affectionate; it was also dig at your finer tastes.

And so what if you are a little high maintenance?

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he loves coaxing it out of you. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, letting a soft undercurrent of flirtation lace your voice as you ask, “Mind if I pull you aside? I’d like to give you your gift.”

His interest is evident in the way his brow raises and the girls bristle slightly, their expressions shifting to thinly veiled jealousy once they realize he’s no longer focused on them. You captured him the moment he saw you amidst the crowd.

“We were just finishin’ up,” Javi says casually, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. He flicks a glance at the two disappointed faces, his smirk widening. “Con permiso, chicas. Thanks for the smoke.”

As he steps away from them, you feel a little triumphant thrill surge in your chest. They look deflated, their pouty expressions almost comical as they watch him leave with you, muttering goodbyes under their breaths.

The curly haired woman stares you down, and you try not to let the smug victory of whisking him away be too obvious… though you can’t help but smile condescendingly before fully turning away.

“Some fan club you’ve got,” you tease once the two of you are finally alone, near the entrance of the sunroom that’s a part of the house.

He smirks, leaning against the siding and tilting his head, once more eyeing you down like you’re the finest thing he’s ever seen. “You jealous?”

You scoff, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Absolutely not.” It’s a little white lie, since you had felt a twinge of that pesky envy, but you don’t want him to know that. He’d either give you shit for it, or on the more extreme end, rethink this arrangement he currently has with you.

And you’d rather not lose it. Not right now, at least. You’re having too much fun letting Javier fuck your brains out on a consistent basis.

Slowly, you close the space between you, your fingers darting up to flick the tacky tiara perched on his head. “Cute.”

Before you can step back, his hands are on you—big and warm as they grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest.

The force of it has you sighing out in satisfaction. There’s something wholly fucking addictive about the way he handles you.

His hands know exactly where to place themselves, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure to set the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“No need to be, baby. You know you’re my favorite.” If your friends knew you were hooking up with the town slut, they’d definitely stage an intervention before you could finish your next sentence. Laying out all the reasons why letting Javier Peña into your bed was a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.

They’d call it desperation. They’d call it lowering your standards.

But what they don’t know is that standards start to feel awfully overrated when Javier has you pinned to a mattress, whispering filthy promises in your ear as his hands map every inch of your body. They don’t know what it’s like to have his full attention—his lips trailing worshipful kisses down your skin, his gravelly voice murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish that you don’t fully understand from how he slurs them together but feel all the same.

Being around him is electric, intoxicating, a high you’re not quite ready to give up.

So no, your friends don’t know. And as long as you can keep this thing between you and Javier your little secret, they never will.

“You gonna let me unwrap my gift or what?” His hand slides lower to cup your right cheek with shameless familiarity, giving it a frisky spank that makes you giggle.

This man and his obsession with your ass—it’s borderline ridiculous, and yet, you’re absolutely here for it.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with faux coyness, your finger dragging along his mustache then over to his pouty lips. He purses them, placing a kiss to the tip of your finger, “if you’re not too busy.”

His hold on your backside tightens, voice morphing into something more sultry, raspier, which is your absolute weakness. It makes your thighs rub together. “You know I always make time for you.”

You laugh softly at that. More often than not, you’re the one initiating while he only reaches out when it suits him. It’s not ideal at times, but you don’t get hung up on it.

You’re not about to ruin this by asking more of someone who doesn’t have it in him.

You reach back and pull the small box from your pocket. “Here’s your real gift,” you say, holding it out to him. Your voice softens, but there’s still a playful inflection. “Hope you like it.”

Curiosity fills those dark eyes as he takes the box, eyeing the tacky birthday wrapping paper with a soft smile. The sight of that grin on his face has your eyes morphing into hearts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you reply with a shrug. “But I saw it at the thrift store and just knew it had to go to you.”

You angle yourself to press a light kiss to the tip of his chin, your lips brushing against the stubble before you nip at it gently with your teeth. “Open it.”

His nimble fingers pull apart the crinkled folds of the wrapping paper to reveal the small box inside. When he opens it, you see his immediate delight, and your heart does a traitorous little flip.

The golden chain bracelet glints under the string lights strung along the roof’s edge, somehow making it look nicer out here than how it had been displayed at the store.

“Damn, this is nice,” he says, genuinely appreciative. The praise sends a faint thrill up your spine, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him lift the bracelet out of the box to inspect it.

You’ve imagined how good the gold would look while his wrist is flexing as he grips your thighs, holding you open for him. Or when he’s feeling you up, rough and greedy, fingers digging into your soft hips as he takes your pussy how he wants.

“Put it on,” he holds his wrist and the bracelet out toward you. His tone carries that easy confidence, like he already knows you’ll obey without question.

Which you do, obviously. You carefully clasp it around his wrist, your fingers brushing his skin as you secure it, and that little brush feels like you’ve just snorted a line of adrenaline with how amped up your body gets.

“Looks good on you,” you admire your handiwork, though the truth is; he’d make anything look good. Even a paper crown. Or, you know, a tacky tiara.

“Gracias, fresita,” he replies smoothly, that familiar nickname rolling off his tongue.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nah.”

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he pulls you against him again, One hand at your lower back, the other tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s eager and completely unapologetic.

“Easy there, birthday boy—”

“Can’t help it,” he cuts you off, his voice rough against your lips. “Been waiting for you to show up all night.”

You can’t help but chase after that tasty mouth of his, your tongue licking against his, teeth biting into his lower lip and the slight tickle of his mustache makes you shiver. Then his hips grind against your thigh, his erection prominent, which in turn has heat flaring all over your body.

“Let’s go inside,” he breaks away, tugging you toward the small steps leading into the sunroom.

You weren’t expecting to fuck him so early on in the night but you’re not about to complain about it. Every fiber of your body yearns for this man—but specifically your cunt. She’s obsessed.

The room looks like it’s in the middle of a renovation—a man cave in progress.

One wall boasts an unfinished bar, complete with half-empty bottles and shot glasses scattered across the surface. A brand-new pool table sits in the center of the room, its felt pristine, untouched by drunken games or spilled drinks.

At the far end, a set of leather couches and a recliner face the large television set and entertainment center.

The double doors to the house are shut tight, leaving the room dim and private, save for the warmness of the string lights spilling in through the windows.

You’re caught up taking it all in when Javier sneaks up behind you, pressing hot, greedy kisses against your neck as his hands roam your body.

There’s nothing tentative about his touch—he cups your tits with both hands, squeezing them over your sweater as a deep groan rumbles in his throat. His need for you is palpable, a force that makes your knees weak even as he maneuvers you toward the pool table.

“Here, Javi?” you pant when he sucks at your weak spot under your jaw. “Let’s just go up to your room—”

“No,” he growls, spinning you around to face him, his dark eyes alight with lust. “Want you right here on this table.”

Before you can argue, his lips are on yours again. You let yourself melt into it, your hands reaching up to pluck the ridiculous tiara off his head and tossing it aside with a flick of your wrist.

His hair is soft under your fingers as you card through it, tugging lightly just to feel the way his body reacts, the way his kisses deepen in response.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you surprise even yourself by wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently. You’re greedy and he loves it.

Javier’s grunt prompts your thighs to clench instinctively around him. His jacket hits the floor as he shrugs it off, lips trailing down your neck. You kick off your boots, his hands lifting you with ease to place you on the sturdy pool table.

Your sweater is gone before you know it. He’s in the middle of working on the button of your jeans, his fingers deft and impatient, when your eyes land on something that makes you freeze.

Or better yet, someone. There’s a figure slumped in one of the recliners at the far end of the room.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing. “Javi, stop.” Your words falter into a moan as his lips find your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, barely pausing as he tugs your pants down your hips. Despite yourself, you lift slightly to help him, even as you frantically nudge your head toward the recliner.

“There’s someone here,” you whisper.

He stops, his head snapping up to follow your gaze. His expression shifts into a frustrated scowl when he sees the figure sprawled in the chair. “Goddamnit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from you and heading over to investigate.

You watch as he approaches, his boots heavy on the hardwood. It’s his cousin Danny, completely passed out, his head lolling to the side and his mouth hanging open. Javier whistles sharply, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He gives his shoulder a firm nudge once, twice—still nothing.

“Out cold,” Javier says, his tone both annoyed and amused as he turns back to you. “Took down almost a whole bottle of tequila earlier. He’s not gonna bother us.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the unconscious form. The idea of hooking up with someone uninvited in the room feels... complicated… exhilarating, maybe? You’ve never done it before.

But your reluctance evaporates the moment Javier closes the distance between you again, his hands sliding your jeans clean off, leaving you in nothing but your mismatched bra and panties.

He drinks you in, and the rest of the party—including the slumped figure in the corner—melts away under the weight of his attention.

No words are needed, not when he roughly tugs the cups of your bra down, letting your breasts spill free, nor when he dips his head, his stubble grazing your skin as his warm mouth captures one of your nipples.

Your breath catches, back arching your breasts into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue lazily circles and flicks over the hardened bud. Then he sucks harder, pulling a drawn-out moan from you before switching to the other side.

You bite your lip, determined to stifle the sighs of pleasure threatening to break. His knocked out cousin in the corner keeps you cautious, even as your body aches to let go.

Javier notices. Always does. He pulls away with a pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his pouty lips to your nipple. “Nu-uh,” he chides. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not trying to wake him up,” you counter, though your voice wavers from how good his mouth felt.

“You won’t,” he replies, almost dismissively, giving you a peck on the lips before he drops to his knees before you. He starts at your calves, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that send sparks dancing along your skin.

The faint scrape of his facial hair adds to the wonderful torment as his mouth works its way up, switching from leg to leg.

When he reaches the inside of your right knee, he kisses it almost sweetly, before dragging his tongue slowly in a hot stripe up to your inner thigh. You can’t stop the small shiver that ripples through you, your hands gripping the edge of the pool table for balance.

Javier finally reaches your pussy and you shudder as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed clit. The heat of his breath and the firm pressure of his lips through the cotton of your panties makes your back arch.

He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it to the side, diving in immediately. His tongue parts your folds, curling and slithering against your pearly clit before moving lower.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your hips bucking involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth.

He groans, enjoying how reactive you are, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs while he holds you firmly in place. His mouth works with a singular focus, his tongue swirling and dipping into your entrance, then sliding back up to flick over your clit.

The feeling of his stupid mustache makes it that much better, scratching at your cunt lusciously.

You can’t help it now—a soft, keening moan slips out of you, echoing faintly in the dimly lit room. Your head lolls around on your shoulders as pleasure coils at the pit of your stomach, the tension winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

“That’s it,” he practically purrs. “Let me hear you.”

His lips seal around your clit, sucking gently, and you swear it feels like you’ve been possessed—holding back is impossible. Another moan escapes you, louder this time, your thighs shaking in his grip as he devours you.

Javi pushes you over the edge so effortlessly that a cry of his name spits out of your throat before you can stop it, cutting through the room.

You're grateful this area of the house is directed away from the backyard, where the party celebrating him outside continues on, oblivious of his absence as he indulges in you.

Your orgasm settles like a heavy current, fingers nearly going numb from holding on to the pool table for dear life.

You’re still disoriented and flustered when Javier stands, looming over you, cupping the back of your head and bringing you in to passionately make out.

His mouth is coated in your tangy essence, making you taste yourself as he slips his tongue down your throat.

You whimper, clawing at his chest for more and he pulls away to turn you around, manhandling you onto your stomach on the table.

His hands are firm yet impatient as he grips one of your legs by the back of your knee and hooks it over the edge of the wooden border.

Javi stares down at your sex, partially exposed and glistening for him. Your panties are askew, one swollen pussy lip peeking out while a dark, damp patch spreads over the cotton where his tongue had devoured you moments ago.

“Fuck.” The lewd sight has him hastily undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans, his dick hard and ready to bury himself inside your sweet cunt.

Propping yourself up on your palms, you glance back at him over your shoulder, a teasing, blissed out smile playing on your lips despite the burning heat between your thighs. “I figured you’d want to savor me. Wait for later…” you coo, rolling your hips and causing your ass to jiggle, feeling giddy at how his eyes zero in on the motion.

“I savor you all the time, baby. Even during these nasty, quick fucks.” Him saying that has you over the fucking moon. “You can’t expect me to wait knowin’ this pussy needs me to fuck her real good.”

The hand adorned with your golden bracelet grabs your supple ass, kneading the flesh before landing a stinging spank that makes you jolt and let out a cry. The sharp sound carries, making your eyes flick nervously toward the recliner where his cousin still lies, unaware of the debauchery happening mere feet away.

Javier seems completely unbothered, casually toying with your panties as though you have all the time in the world. He hooks his finger into the soaked fabric, dragging it back and forth against your sticky folds, smearing your slick across your pussy lips.

Your hips move on their own, chasing the friction, and you bite your lip hard, trapping the needy moan building in your throat.

“Can I come over later?”

His question is so nonchalant it nearly makes you laugh, but the way he teases you has you too far gone to do so. You grind back against his touch, desperate for more, your lips parting in a breathy moan.

“Yes.” The thought of him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning, bourbon on his lips, just for you to sink to your knees and take him down your throat makes your pussy clench around nothing, crying out for his cock as more of your arousal leaks against your panties. “Whenever.”

He hums in satisfaction, stepping closer and reaching for your jaw, tilting your head to the side roughly and meeting you for a kiss. The fabric of his shirt grazes your bare skin and he tugs your panties to the side again while his mouth continues to hold yours captive.

His cock nudges against your waiting entrance, teasing, the flushed head dragging over the fleshy cleft of your clit in languid taps.

When he finally pushes in, there’s no preamble—just the yummy stretch of him filling you to the fucking brim, shoving a strangled whine out of your mouth as he sets a brutal pace immediately, not giving you even a moment to adjust.

Your palms slip against the velvet of the pool table as you struggle to hold yourself up, but it’s no use. The force of his thrusts sends you collapsing forward onto your chest, scattering the neatly racked pool balls across the table.

They clatter and roll in all directions, but Javier doesn’t slow for a second. His grip on your waist tightens, forcing you to fuck yourself back on his dick.

“Shit,” he growls hoarsely, already breathless as he watches your ass bounce with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a loud fuckin’ mess,” he hisses, though there’s no real malice there—just straight horniness.

In one smooth motion, he grabs both your wrists with one large hand, pinning them to your lower back. He then angles your pelvis so that your clit is grinding against the smooth wooden border of the pool table while your tender nipples rub against the green felt.

The effects of that are immediate, your body feeling like it’s burning from the inside out. “Mmm, fuck yeah, keep doing that,” you moan desperately.

The raunchy sound of your ass clapping against his thighs fills the room, a filthy rhythm accompanied by the feeling of his heavy balls brushing against your cunt.

The noise feels impossibly loud, your whimpers and his grunts reverberating off the walls. Surely, his cousin will wake up—surely, someone will walk in on the shameless display Javier is putting on with your body.

Or maybe not, since Javier keeps fucking you all hot and wanton, especially when he hits your sweet spot and your ribbed, gushy walls hug around his dick like a vice.

Your forehead presses against the table as you chant his name, your vision swimming.

You try to glance toward the recliner where his cousin is passed out, but your eyes can’t focus. Everything’s a blur—two of everything, indistinct shapes swimming in the haze of your arousal.

The only thing you can truly focus on is Javier: the way his cock breaches your most intimate spaces, the heat of his body against yours, the sharp bite of his belt against the backs of your thighs.

You’re soaking him, ruining the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s splitting you open so perfectly, his tight grip on your wrists keeping you pinned and utterly open for him to take.

Your sore clit continues to rub against the smooth wood of the table, now sticky from how shamelessly you’ve been humping against it while chasing your pleasure.

Between the stimulation on your clit, the rough scrape of the felt against your sensitive nipples, and the relentless pounding of his shaft brushing your g-spot—it’s all too much.

Your body trembles, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

"Javi!" you spasm in his hold, nails digging into your palms as your wrists remain trapped beneath his firm grip. shoulders burning from his rough hold.

Your pussy clamps hard around him, wet and creamy as you come, soaking his cock and leaving no doubt about how thoroughly he fucked you.

Javier curses through gritted teeth, switching between Spanish and English as he ruts into you, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, fresita, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—just like that.”

He doesn’t falter, fucking you even as your orgasm settles over you like a heavy current.

He hauls you upright, pulling your back flush against his chest, his grip on your wrists unrelenting as he traps them between your bodies.

Both of his arms wrap tightly around your trembling frame, one hand sliding up to grab your tit, kneading it roughly while the other sprawls against your stomach and waist to hold you steady as he fucks up into you.

His mouth is at your ear now, his breath ragged. “Gonna bust inside this pretty pussy baby and you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You nod weakly, biting down on your lip as your eyes flutter shut. “So fuckin’ willing to take my cum like a real slut,” the degrading name makes your clit twitch because he’s right—you are a real slut. Only for him. Always hungry and ready to please, to do anything to satisfy him and he knows it.

“You’re so goddamn perfect—fuck.” His hips jerk a few times before he groans deeply, his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside you, his hold on your body tightening to the point where you wince but it hurts so good.

“What the fuck?”

The sharp voice cuts through the haze, yanking you back to reality. Your eyes snap open, and panic floods your system as you instinctively try to shield your almost-naked body.

Across the room, Danny sits up in the recliner, his hair a mess and his bleary eyes squinting in confusion. He looks like he’s been rudely yanked out of a drunken slumber, and unfortunately, it’s your fault.

Javier, of course, remains maddeningly calm. “Relax,” his voice still thick with that post-climax rasp as he mumbles in your ear.

Meanwhile, your body is burning—part embarrassment, part leftover heat from the sinful things Javier just did to you on this pool table.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms are like iron bands, keeping you firmly in place.

Danny rubs at his eyes, blinking hard as if trying to process what’s in front of him. His head tilts slightly, and for one horrifying second, you think he’s piecing it all together. But instead, he suddenly leans over the side of the recliner and starts retching, the sound loud and wet as he empties his stomach onto the carpet.

The sharp, acidic stench of vomit hits the air, mixing unpleasantly with the heady scent of sweat and sex. It’s enough to finally get Javier to loosen his hold.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, leaving you aching and exposed, and you both watch as his release starts to spill out of you, trickling over your swollen folds and dripping onto the table with obscene little plops.

But there’s no time to dwell on the mess. You scramble to grab your clothes, your movements frantic and clumsy as you yank your jeans up your legs and shove your arms into your sweater.

Javier’s doing the same, though far less hurried, like he’s still amused by the whole situation.

When you finally look up at him, his dark eyes are sparkling with mischief, and he throws you a roguish grin that almost makes you laugh despite yourself.

Danny, meanwhile, is still groaning and gagging, his face pale as a sheet. You feel a tiny pang of guilt, but before you can even think about offering help, Javier grabs your hand and tugs you toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Fuck no,” Javier replies without missing a beat. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle his liquor.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you can’t help but follow him.

You glance back over your shoulder as you’re being pulled toward the backyard, unable to stop yourself from throwing out a half-hearted, “Sorry!”

He doesn’t respond—he’s too busy dry heaving—but you and Javier are already sneaking out, stifling your laughter as the sounds of the party grow louder around you.

The music thrums through the air, its infectious rhythm pulling you in as your dance partner tightens his grip on your waist. His hands are firm, guiding you with confidence, but the musky cologne mixed with the sour tang of sweat is enough to make your nose crinkle if you focus too hard on it.

Still, you’re here out of spite, letting the sway of your hips speak louder than words as your body molds to his. The banda song carries you both across the makeshift dance floor, your movements fluid and natural as though the music itself has taken over.

Javier is just a few paces away, entangled with the curly-haired girl from earlier. His hands rest on her lower back, his body moving with ease.

There’s a playful challenge in both of your eyes when your gazes finally meet, knowing how this little game of yours will end.

Neither of you looks away, both determined to outdo the other, even in this small, ridiculous way.

Your dance partner spins you abruptly, breaking the moment. The move is smooth, you’ll give him that, and you find yourself face-to-face with him once again.

He’s not bad looking, honestly—sharp jawline, nice green eyes—but the cologne is killing the vibe, and his wandering hands are starting to push it.

Thankfully, the song winds to a close just as his fingers inch a little too far down your back. The music shifts, a different tune kicking in, and you step back, offering a polite smile as he thanks you for the dance.

“Got a number I can save?” he asks, hopeful and slightly cocky.

You grin, a little too sweetly, and rattle off your number without hesitation. You’ve got no intention of responding if he uses it, but you can’t resist the temptation to stir the pot. As he finally walks away, you feel it—a scorching stare burning into your back.

You don’t even have to look to know who it’s coming from.

“Baila conmigo.”

The familiar rasp of Javier’s voice cuts through the noise as he steps into your space. He takes a swig of his beer, his leather jacket gone, leaving him in just the white button-up that hugs his chest a little too well.

You cock a brow, crossing your arms. “What happened to your dance partner?”

“Sent her away,” he replies easily, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Poor girl couldn’t catch the rhythm.”

You let out an amused huff, rolling your eyes. Of course, he’d say that. Before you can think better of it, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you toward la pista.

The moment you’re there, he pulls you flush against him, one large hand settling at your lower back while the other still clutches his beer. You fall into the simple two-step with ease, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the music.

His thigh slots between yours, the friction sparking something electric, and you can’t help but press closer, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you.

“Reminds me of that night at the club,” his lips brush at your ear. It’s a miracle you can still hear him over the loud music. “When you finally let me get between those pretty legs.”

The heat in his words, combined with the faint scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, floods your senses. He smells and feels like everything your last dance partner wasn’t.

Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd as you and Javi throw yourselves into the rhythm of the song, your bodies moving like two parts of the same melody.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good dancer the first time you shared a dance—not until that night at the club.

And just like his dancing, the way he fucked you afterward had blown every expectation out of the water.

The song comes to an end, leaving you both flushed and slightly winded, sweat clinging to your skin despite the cool night air. The cheers die down as a new track begins, and Javi’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, give me another one,” he urges, his voice still rich and sensual despite the exertion.

You laugh, shaking your head as you step back, hands on your hips. You hadn’t planned to stay this long, and now your body is screaming for mercy. “Raincheck, handsome. I gotta head home.”

Javi’s grin falters slightly, but it doesn’t fade completely as your hand drifts down his chest, fingers savoring the firmness of his body.

His broad shoulders and toned frame are just so enchanting, and you can’t resist indulging one last time before grabbing his beer. You take a long, slow sip, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you drain the bottle and set it aside on one of the plastic fold-out tables.

“Not gonna stick around for the cake?” he asks, that boyish charm in his tone as he steps closer.

You flash him a flirty smile. “Save me a piece.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the rowdy chaos of his friends and cousins cuts him off. They swarm him, loud and eager, tugging at his shoulders and shouting for him to take another shot.

He laughs, but his gaze finds yours, his warm brown eyes locking on to you one last time.

“Enjoy, Javi,” you tell him with a wink. “You know where to find me.”

That familiar smirk is at his lips as he’s pulled toward the makeshift bar. You watch him for a moment before turning to make your departure.

You’re cutting across the lawn when you hear a voice behind you.

“Need a ride home?”

It’s the guy you danced with earlier, his cologne still potent even in the open air. His gentlemanliness would’ve been charming if it weren’t for the obvious expectation in his tone.

You decline politely, offering a quick smile before brushing past him and unlocking your car.

What you don’t realize is that Javi sees the entire exchange from afar. He’d caught the tail end of the guy trailing after you, his gaze narrowing as he watched you disappear into the sea of parked cars.

A flicker of irritation tugged at his expression, but he stayed rooted to his spot, letting his friends push another shot into his hand.

Instead of following, he threw himself into his own celebration, his laugh loud and boisterous as if he hadn’t seen a damn thing. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you leaving with that guy, and the glint in his eyes that had been so bright when you were there dulled just slightly.

Still, he let it go, for now.

He knew exactly where to find you, after all.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your back arching against the cold tile of your kitchen floor. Javier thrusts into you with a raw, animalistic need, his cock driving so deep inside you that it feels like he’s carving himself into your very being.

The absurdity of the situation is a bit funny—you’re still fully clothed, minus your sleeping shorts having been thrown haphazardly across the room, a stark contrast to earlier when you’d been bare and spread for him on that damn pool table.

Just as you predicted, he showed up at your door in the dead of night, his silhouette illuminated by the dim porch light. You’d barely made it to the door before his desperate, insistent knocking threatened to wake the entire block.

It felt like he might break it down if you didn’t open it fast enough. Whoever dropped him off didn’t even wait to see if you’d answer.

No words were exchanged when you finally let him in. His brown eyes, dark and searing, did all the talking.

He’d cupped your face with one rough hand, the other holding a plate with aluminum foil covering it, precariously balancing it in his palm as he kissed you with an appetite that left you breathless.

You let him back you into the kitchen, setting the plate on the counter, his body crowding yours until there was nowhere left to go.

And now, here you are, legs spread wide, the weight of him pressing you down into the tiles, his jacket still on, smelling like beer and bourbon as he ruts himself against you.

“Givin’ your number out, huh?” he growls against your lips, his words dripping with bitterness. His hand snakes up to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. You feel the subtle coolness of the bracelet against your skin and that only makes it better. “That’s all it takes, fresita? One fuckin’ dance?”

Each word is punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust that has you gasping for air.

Your hands scramble at the back of his jacket, trying to find some sort of anchor while his dick fucks into you over and over, your slick cunt clamping helplessly around him.

If your brain wasn’t fogged with pleasure, you’d call him out on his jealousy, tease him for letting something so trivial get under his skin. At least you were better about hiding it.

But god, it’s too fucking hot—seeing him like this, so undone, so unhinged, all because of you.

Javier, the man who always carries himself with that cool, confident swagger, who never seems to let anything faze him, is now losing his composure right here on your kitchen floor.

And all it took was watching some other guy’s attention on you to make him snap. If anyone is picky and spoiled here—it’s him.

“Answer me,” he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you lightheaded, his thrusts never faltering. His free hand grabs at your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, the angle forcing you to experience every inch of him.

“I—it was nothing,” you manage to cry, though your words are almost incoherent as he’s driving into you. “Javi, I—”

“You what?” he interrupts with a curt laugh, his teeth grazing the underside of your jaw before he bites down gently, making you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around, lettin’ some asshole think he’s got a chance with you?”

The thought alone seems to fuel him further, his movements growing rougher and you swear you’re on the edge of unraveling.

And as he watches the way your body responds to him—your nails digging into his back, your moans turning into screams—he knows he’s making his point loud and clear.

Javi’s grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your breath just enough to stimulate you. The pressure makes you feel somehow, impossibly, even more turned on.

“He can’t fuck you like I can,” he grinds against you, his coarse and damp pubic hairs bristling against your sensitive clit, the friction of it almost too much. “No one can.” His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your mouth falls open on instinct, tiny, wheezy moans spilling out as his nose brushes against yours.

Javier’s dark eyes feel like they’re boring straight into your soul, gleaming with hunger as he watches your every twitch, every little surrender. He leans in and kisses you all demanding and vehement.

His lips claim yours like he’s trying to eat you whole, his tongue slipping inside to taste every gasp you give him.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs mockingly as he pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop between your bodies, watching your pussy swallow his cock. “Just listen to how wet you are, baby. Think he could ever make you sound like this?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment—and arousal—as the obscene, sloppy sounds of his length plunging into you fill the air, amplified by his words. The drive of his hips is merciless, each stroke drawing you closer with dizzying precision.

Your nails dig into his forearms, bending your body beneath him as your vision starts to be blotched with white spots.

You can feel it, the winding of your orgasm at your core pulling taut, about to burst. When it finally does, your pussy flutters and squeezes as waves of smoldering intensity crash over you.

“Puta madre,” he snarls, his head falling back from how good it feels to have you come around him.

Pulling out, Javier pins you down with his weight to keep you from squirming away. His cock, flushed, drooling, and shiny with your juices, hovers inches from your face as you lay flat on the floor.

Your swollen lips part instinctively, the scent of your own headiness making your mouth water.

“Tongue out, baby,” he commands, his voice rough but coaxing.

You obey, sticking your tongue out lazily, your half-lidded eyes locked onto his. The sight of you like this—wrecked, pliant, and waiting for him—is enough to undo him completely. His hand pumps his cock, the golden accessory on his wrist jolting with each move.

With a low, rasping groan, he spills over you, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face and tongue.

You moan softly, savoring the warmth, licking your lips and swallowing whatever lands in your mouth. The taste of him leaves your tongue and throat buzzing, and you revel in the messy intimacy of it.

He uses his fingers to wipe the remnants of his release from your cheeks, then pushes them into your mouth without hesitation.

“Suck,” he orders, and you comply, wrapping your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them with eager enthusiasm. You get carried away, your tongue flicking and sucking greedily, and he chuckles darkly.

“Jealousy looks good on you,” you can’t help but tease, your voice carrying amusement as you both come down from the dazed fucking.

Javier sways a little, his inebriation finally catching up to him. He stumbles, but he steadies himself smoothly, like the world itself wouldn’t dare let him fall.

He wipes a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, still kneeling on the floor. “Not a fan of people playin’ with what’s mine,” he says, the statement edged with that possessiveness he tries to pretend isn’t there.

Usually, a line like that would have you rolling your eyes and telling the guy to take his ego down a notch. But with Javier? You don’t mind. At all. Something about the way he says it—like it’s a fact, not an opinion—makes your stomach flip in the worst (or best) way possible.

“Yours?” you challenge, sitting up on your forearms and arching a brow at him. “I thought this was casual.”

“It is,” he says without missing a beat, bringing his fingers up to caress the side of your face, more calm and sure, like he’s completely unaware of how contradictory his behavior is.

You narrow your eyes slightly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily despite melting under his touch. “Casual hookups don’t go into a frenzy after watching the other dance and flirt with someone else.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your words, doesn’t even bother to defend himself. Instead, he smirks—because of course he does—and stretches his arms over his head like the entire conversation is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.

He straightens up then stands, extending a hand to you, his palm open and inviting, the gold band of the bracelet glinting in the low light.

You let him pull you up and let out a sound of exertion, your muscles still tense from rolling around on the hard floor with him.

“Dance, flirt with whoever you want. When I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “That so?” You try to sound unimpressed, but your voice betrays you, just the tiniest bit giddy.

“That’s so,” he concedes vaingloriously. “Don’t forget who makes you feel this satisfied.”

As if I could ever. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He leans in, kissing you gently, then his voice drops into that deep, velvety murmur that makes your pussy tingle. “Yet you keep coming back.”

You don’t respond because, let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Especially not when he pairs those words with an affectionate kiss.

Instead, you finally roll your eyes, the most predictable move in your arsenal, and step around him to grab your discarded sleeping shorts.

Sliding them back on, you make your way to the counter, where the lonely styrofoam plate of half-smashed birthday cake waits for attention. Without a word, you pull it closer, grab a fork, and dig in.

Javier watches you with a grin still plastered across his face, leaning his hip against the counter. “Didn’t even offer the birthday boy the first bite, huh? Real cold.”

You stab a piece exaggeratedly, lifting it to your mouth, and chewing slowly, giving him a look that says cry about it.

But when you see the faint pout pulling at his lips—a deliberate act, no doubt—you sigh, scoop up another forkful, and hold it out. “Fine. Even though technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

He leans in, not breaking the eye contact, and takes the bite straight from the fork, his lips brushing the tines with an unnecessary amount of flair.

You swear he’s showing off, but you don’t call him out on it, not when he groans softly in appreciation and you can’t help but admire him like this, playful and flirty in your kitchen.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Javi,” you say after a moment, softer now.

He swallows, his smirk shifting into something a little more genuine as he meets your gaze. “Gracias, fresita.”

For a moment, the air between you shifts—gentler, almost intimate. Then he reaches for the fork still in your hand and steals another bite, flashing you a look that drags you right back to reality.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz .

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bloddysnow · 7 months ago

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Summary: You are an emperor, and you have your own harem consisting of four consorts.

Pairings: Sub! Bottom! Zayne/Sylus/Rafayel/Xavier x Dom! Top! Gn! Reader

nsfw minors dni

They have different features and characters, each of which is a unique combination of beauty, strength and charm.

The first consort, Zayne was a skillful healer, known for his wisdom and insight. He was not only handsome, but also smart. His knowledge of herbs and medicines helped to keep you in good health, helping to stay full of strength and energy. He often gave you valuable advice in governing the state. He had a refined taste and exquisite grace. His outfits have always been made with elegance.

The second consort, Rafayel, has a passionate temperament and burning beauty. Something about him always makes him the center of attention in any room. He chooses the most precious fabrics and jewelry to emphasize his beauty. Rafayel spends his days perfecting the art of dance, demonstrating flexibility and ability to control his body. He was not only a talented dancer, but also a skillful musician. In the evenings, he plays the lyre, hoping to attract you with melodic sounds and his angelic voice. His talent was known far beyond the palace.

The third consort, Sylus is famous for his wisdom and deep knowledge of poetry and philosophy. Passion and temptation permeates his every movement and every word. His eyes burn with the fire of thirst, giving mystery. He is also a master of martial arts. His grace and dexterity delighted everyone who saw his training. He often quotes poems and philosophical thoughts, hoping to win your heart through mind and soul.

The fourth consort, Xavier is known for his innocence and sincerity. He wears light and bright outfits that emphasize his young beauty. Its beauty is emphasized by simplicity and naturalness. He likes to walk in the garden and pick flowers. He wants to attract you with his purity and innocence. His room is filled with the scents of fresh flowers and the soft light of candles since he every evening hopes that you’ll want to visit him.

They dress up in frank clothes that barely cover their bodies to better demonstrate the traces of your caresses - dark spots and red marks from love bites that cover their delicate skin with a marble pattern. Every sign you leave is considered a pride, and they do not hide them under their makeup, but show them out.

At public meetings, banquets, parties and most social events, your consorts properly stand right behind your back and will always accompany you. Their presence behind your back symbolized the unity and strength of the imperial family. They’ll hide their faces under face veil, leaving only their eyes open. Since childhood, they have been taught that their bodies belong only to the emperor, and this knowledge is deeply rooted in their minds. Because of this, they cannot get physical pleasure on their own, knowing that their purpose is to serve only you.

As an emperor, you are aware of the importance of fair and respectful treatment of your consorts. And you try to pay equal attention to them all, making sure that each of them feels loved and valuable.

Evenings in the garden with Xavier have become an oasis of calm and happiness for you. The garden has an atmosphere of peace and harmony created by the rustle of foliage, the singing of birds and the quiet murmur of the fountain. Xavier brings the book he chose in advance and sits on the soft grass under the shade of an old oak leaning against it. You settle down next to him, putting your head on his lap. His hands begin to gently stroke your hair. He opens the book and starts reading aloud. His voice, soft and expressive, fills the space around you. Closing your eyes, you enjoy every minute spent with him.

Sylus often asks you to practice with him. One of your rules was the following: if he wins, you will fulfill any of his wishes. He attacks quickly and deftly, trying to find vulnerabilities. You, in turn, fight back, always trying to keep a balance between defense and attack. However, despite his aspiration and skills, he has never managed to defeat you. You are always one step ahead. You know that the real goal of these trainings is not victory, but time spent together. And this ends with Sylus breathing heavily with his hands around your neck, feeling the warmth of your body. Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. His lips are warm, persistent, conveying all the passion that he may have been holding back for a long time.

Rafayel, dressed in light silk clothes, slowly goes to the center of the hall, illuminated by the soft light of candles. The sounds of darbuka and qanun begin to fill the space. Smooth waves run through his body, starting from his hips and rising up his spine. He skillfully uses his shoulders. His hands gently twist, repeating the curves of the melody, and his fingers touch the invisible strings, adding a touch of magic to the dance. His hips make graceful movements, synchronously swaying in the rhythm of melody. His body is the true perfection of beauty. Each muscle contraction, each movement emphasizes the ideal lines of his figure. The light of candles plays on his skin, creating a game of shadows and emphasizing every muscle. When he looks at you, it seems that time stops. His eyes are full of depth and passion, you can drown in them, forgetting about everything in the world. It's like they bewitched you, and you can't take your eyes off him. They reflect the whole world, full of mysteries and secrets that he is ready to share only with you.

In the majestic imperial palace, immersed in luxury and splendor, your life was surrounded by Zayne's care and attention. Not trusting the servants, Zayne personally followed every aspect of your daily life. It was his personal privilege and duty that he was proud of. Taking care of the emperor gave him some pleasure. He chooses your outfit for the day, also takes care of your hairstyle, skillfully styling your hair and giving it a neat look. He makes sure that consorts didn't bother you and asks you every night if you wanted to visit someone's quarters. Zayne takes care of his emperor with awe and love, trying to protect you from all possible troubles and worries. As a sign of gratitude for his tireless care and devotion, you often took his hands in your own and gratefully kiss them. Zayne was always embarrassed at these moments, looking away.

Their hearts are pounding in anticipation of your next choice, and each of them is eager to be in emperor’s quarters again. When they find themselves in your bed, their moans and screams become loud and passionate, breaking the silence of the night. It's not only an expression of their pleasure, but also a way to show others your closeness to them. They cry, clutching your cock buried deep inside them, and whisper through tears: "I'm y-your favorite, right?" Their voices tremble with emotions, and their hearts beat in the hope of confirming their uniqueness and love.

Their bellies become swollen from the amount of sperm inside their wombs. When you gently press on their stomach, white sperm flows out of their hole, and they whine, asking you not to waste it. Each of them dreams of giving birth to the first heir, who will strengthen his position in the harem and give him power and respect.

#dom reader #sub character #love and deepspace #sub love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #sub rafayel #sub zayne #sub xavier #sub sylus #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne

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scarlet-star-witch · 8 months ago

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The moon and his sun (Part II)

Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 8.2 K

Warnings: Aegon takes minors to a brothel (but nothing sexual happens), characters get aged up, male masturbation, mutual pining, smut

AN: I am so blown away by the love you all showed for the first chapter, thank you all so much! Hope you enjoy xx

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide.

Aemond had been twirling her around the room practically the entire night. She knew he didn’t particularly enjoy dancing, but when she had asked him, he loathed to deny her.

“Are you having a good name day?”

“It’s my best one yet.” He smiled. He had woken that morning to her barging into his chambers, demanding her gift be the first one he received that day. Nothing could ruin such an incredible start to the day.

He raised her hand over their heads and twirled her under his arm again, his own grin beaming at the sound of her delighted laughter.

She tilted her head back as she spun and Aemond was struck by how happy she looked. She was happy with him, she was carefree with him.

Despite how his feet began to hurt, or that he knew many pairs of eyes were staring at him, the desire to let go and sit back down was nowhere to be found. He wanted to stay with her. He wanted to continue to make her smile all night long

As she twirled again, her eyes found the head table, smiling to Helaena who was watching the dancers wistfully while her betrothed sat next to her downing another cup of wine.

She flinched suddenly as she met the hard stare of the Hand of the King. Otto Hightower’s stare was enough to make her feel as though she was burning under such a disdainful look.

Her shoulders tensed slightly before she found herself being spun again, back into Aemond’s arms. His smile faltered when he noticed her own smile dimmed.

“Are you alright?”

She forced a mask upon her face, not quite understanding the contempt coming her way from his grandsire, and brought a smile back to her face.

“I’m fine, just getting a little tired.”

“Come on, we’ll take a break.” He took her hand in his and guided her back to the table.

Her father smiled at the two of them as they approached.

“You two look like you’ve been having fun.”

“We are.” She smiled, taking her seat next to him. Aemond moved to take the empty seat next to her when his mother called out to him. She beckoned him forward with a pointed look and he sighed, promising to find her later as he left her side to make his way back to the head table.

She watched him go with sorrowful eyes, her gaze moving over to Otto and suppressing a shiver at the cold look she received.

She seemed to shrink in her seat, catching her father’s attention. He followed her gaze, his face hardening, his posture becoming rigid as he noticed the cold glare the Hand of the King was sending his daughter.

He had never liked Hightower, he didn’t trust the man. He somehow always seemed to take control of the council meetings, proclaiming he knew what the King’s best interests were. He was a snake of a man and he would not let him drag his daughter into his games.

He placed his arm over her shoulder, portraying a united front, a warning to anyone that would seek to bring her harm that he would deal with them swiftly. He may be the Lord of a peaceful house but that did not mean he did not know how to fight or that he wouldn’t commit whatever violence was needed to protect his family.

She stayed by her father’s side for the rest of the night, sharing looks of mourning with Aemond as he was sequestered to his mother’s side, unable to escape the politicking unfolding at the head table of Royals.

As the celebration was winding down, most taking their leave for the night, she bid her father goodnight and sulked out of the large hall.

She knew whatever reservations Aemond’s grandsire had of her would keep him from her, that there was no use in hoping for another moment with him.

She shouldn’t have been so upset, she had practically the entire day with him and all her previous days, but that somehow didn’t stop the twisting of her insides as the thought of his own family disliking her, of there being some kind of plot to keep her away from him.

The sound of her name being called made her raise her head, a smile growing instantly at the sight of Aemond waving her over.

“Where are you going?”

“I was headed to my chambers. I thought the celebration was over.”

Aemond took her hand and pulled her along with him. “Not yet.”

She smiled along with him, happily following him. As he guided her out of the Keep, her smile began to falter slightly in confusion.

“Where are we going?”

“Aegon said he had a surprise.”

An uneasy feeling began to fester within her. She didn’t particularly like any time she had spent with his older brother. She didn’t trust a single thing about him. Thoughts of the pink dread came to mind and she quickly held back the bitterness that grew. She didn’t want to doubt Aemond, but she had little hope this surprise would be a showing of brotherly love.

As the two of them snuck passed the gates, a hooded figure waited for them.

Aegon’s smirk dropped the moment he spotted the two of them hand in hand.

“What the bloody hell is she doing here?”

“Aegon.” Aemond admonished.

“I didn’t invite her, I invited you.”

“She’s my friend. She has every right to join us.”

The disdain on his face faltered slightly and soon morphed into a devious smirk, a laugh leaving his curled lips, one that made her stiffen.

“I do hope you enjoy the surprise, My Lady.” He drawled, the sickly sweet tone of his voice making her want to squirm and head back to the safety of her chambers.

But Aemond’s hand in hers kept her in place, her stride matching his as they followed Aegon.

The further they ventured from the familiarity of the Red Keep, the tighter Aemond’s grip on her hand became, his suspicions rising as they continued their trek deeper into the streets of Flea Bottom.

He pulled her into his side as they passed a tavern, the rowdy sounds inside and the groups of drunken men they passed making his body stiffen.

“Aegon, what are we doing down here?” He called to his older brother.

No response was given and Aemond grit his teeth in annoyance. He should’ve known better than to trust his brother.

They came to a nondescript door and Aegon turned to face them, that smug smirk still on his face that made her hand twitch, longing to smack it right off his face.

“Well, brother, you’re almost a man grown. I think it’s time you get it wet.”

Aemond’s eyes narrowed, confusion twisting his features as a pit of dread began to grow within him. Aegon opened the door and motioned them inside.

When the two of them stood still in their spot, Aegon rolled his eyes and gripped onto the front of Aemond’s shirt, yanking him forward, his hand still clasped tightly in hers pulling her along with him, the two of them stumbling through the door ungracefully.

The scantily clad women that filled the room made Aemond’s lone eye widen. He turned to his brother, his face red with both shame and anger.

“Aegon, why are we here?”

“Don’t be so uptight, Aemond.” His brother waved him off, brushing past them to be welcomed into the arms of a whore he frequented.

He was quickly guided off to a room, leaving the two of them to remain standing at the door stiffly, their shocked eyes taking in the room before them.

A group of women soon surrounded them, pulling Aemond away from her.

He tensed as hands ran down his arms and he shook them off, his head craning to catch a glimpse of his friend. He called out her name, but if she gave any response it was drowned out by the tittering laughter of the women in front of him.

“Is she your betrothed?”

“We can help you, teach you how to please her.”

“We’ll make you a God, My Prince.”

Aemond’s face twisted in disgust at the filth they began to spout, shrugging off their wandering hands, flinching as a hand landed on his thigh, slowly beginning to creep upwards.

“Don’t touch me.” He snapped, his heart beginning to race as a dreadful feeling overcame him.

He remembered it well, what it was like to not be in control. He remembered what happened the last time he had felt this helpless, wanting to scream but knowing no one was listening, no one caring about his discomfort. His scar flared with pain at the memory and he winced, pushing the woman who was trying to crawl into his lap away from him.

He called out her name again, panic seeping through his tone.

He stumbled over his own feet in his haste to escape the gaggle of whores that tried to tempt him. He pushed them out of his way, one goal in his mind, one face he desperately needed to see.

Across the room, he spotted her, his chest tightening as he saw the discomfort on her face as many pairs of hands tangled through her hair and pulled at her dress.

“You’re a pretty little thing.”

“Just imagine when your tits come in, you’ll put all of us out of work. The men will be lining up to take a turn with you.”

“Don’t worry, Honey. We can prepare you so it won’t hurt too much when your old husband beds you.”

The whores’ words made her stomach clench and she squirmed under their hands that attempted to get her out of her clothes.

The feeling of lips caressing her neck made her flinch, a small squeak of surprise escaping her before she could even fully realize what was happening.

“Get off her.” A stern voice spoke.

She let out a stunted breath as she realized it was Aemond. She reached out and within a second, he hauled her up and wrapped her under his arm as he pushed their way out of the brothel.

A ragged breath left him as the stench of perfume finally lifted, the debauched sounds of the pleasure house muffled and distant as the door closed behind them. He looked down at the girl under his arm and a bolt of worry shot through him at the sight of her blank stare.

A low hum rang in her ears, her body trembling slightly as it tried to make sense of what had just happened, of what could have happened.

“Hey, look at me, please.” His pleading voice came through and she slowly raised her head, her gaze meeting his worried eye.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what he was planning. I never should have trusted him.” He rambled, his own voice wavering slightly, his trembling hands moving to cup her cheeks. “I swear to you, I never would have come if I had known.”

“It’s ok.” She breathed out quietly.

He sighed, the fear on her face still evident.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded wordlessly and he winced, the gesture so unconvincing he quickly wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I’ll take you back to the Keep.”

She looked down the darkened alley fearfully, the thought of making her way through the streets of Flea Bottom so late had dread settling in her stomach.

“It’s ok.” Aemond assured her, taking her hand in his, noting the unease in her eyes. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

They began to walk, the silence between them stifling, something so unfamiliar to the inseparable pair.

“I’m sorry.” She began quietly. “You don’t need to- you can stay if you wish. I don’t want to ruin your night.”

Aemond stopped in his tracks, his lone eye wide with horror as he looked at her in complete shock.

“I don’t- no! I didn’t want- this wasn’t-” He was at a loss for words. He blew out a long breath, cursing Aegon profusely in his head. “I don’t want to… do what Aegon does.” He explained vaguely, unable to bring himself to speak of his brother’s depravity in front of her.

The insinuation of him acting like Aegon, of sullying himself with the same debauchery that brought his family shame made his stomach twist. He never wanted her to see him like that, he never wanted her to think he would ever act like his brother.

Aemond ran a hand through his hair. “Fucking twat.” He mumbled under his breath. He wanted to throttle Aegon

A small giggle met his ears and he looked at her, slightly bewildered by the small upturning of her lips he saw, so unlike the fear he had seen etched in her eyes just seconds before.

“I’ve never heard you swear.”

He let out a small noise of surprise, unsure if she was truly smiling or if it was a ruse to placate him.

“So unbecoming of a Prince.” She jested and he let himself laugh, her sarcasm, her humor so like the girl he knew that it was enough to ease his worry.

He liked his arm through hers, holding her closely to his side as they began to walk again.

“Did this ruin your name day?” She asked after a few moments of silence.

He looked over at her thoughtfully. His day began with her, her excited smile beaming as she demanded he open her present, her at his side loyally all day. No one had ever been so attentive to him, not even on past name days.

“No.” He answered honestly. Nothing could ruin the content she gave him, the feeling of being wanted and needed that surrounded him when she was around was stronger than any blow of shame Aegon could deliver.

Neither of them spoke of that night, the both of them too embarrassed by what they had seen and heard to say anything about it.

Though the seeds of lust were planted.

As the years passed and they grew older, their childhood innocence dissipating into adult desires and longing, it became harder to deny what was between them. The looks that passed between them were no longer the shared smiles of childhood friends, they were the looks of longing that stirred the shared hunger that grew steadily with each passing day.

After that night, she loathed to think of her friend, her Aemond, venturing back there with Aegon, indulging those whores, laying with them, letting them touch him, his own hands greedily touching every inch of their bodies. The thought of him laying with another was like a lance to the heart.

The same dread plagued Aemond.

He made himself sick thinking of his friend, the girl he always simply considered to be his, indulging one of the many suitors that ogled her.

Aemond thought of what those whores had told her, that she would have to lay with a husband leagues older than her and endure the lackluster and, most likely violent, attempts to produce an heir.

The thought had his insides twisting. The thought of any man with their hands on her sent fury racing through him.

As they grew, he couldn’t help but find his thoughts of her drifting to ones that would be considered less than innocent, not thoughts one should be having of a dear friend.

He couldn’t help but admire her curves, the dip of her cleavage she had no trouble showing in the low cut gowns she wore around the Keep. It drove him crazy.

It was becoming more and more common that he would wake, his thoughts racing of images of her lingering from his dreams. He would roll over, imagining she was laying next to him in his bed, tangled within his sheets, her sweet smile his first sight of the day.

He had no time to feel guilty as his hand ventured below his sheets, as he found his hard length that was more often than not standing at attention to the thought of her.

He would let his eye close, imagining her hand taking his place, of her sweet mouth taking him in, of the praises she would give him as he took her over and over, the sound of her delectable moans and pleas for him.

His mouth would part with panting breaths as he thought of the pleasure he could give her, of the pleasure he longed to give her and the pleasure she would bestow upon him.

His hand would speed as he neared his end, his body writhing among his silken sheets, his head fallen back against his pillow as he pictured her face, what it would look like as he brought her to climax.

The thought, as always, was his undoing.

His lips parted with a long groan, the raspy call of her name becoming familiar to the walls around him. He panted as he expelled the last spurts of spend on his stomach, his limbs feeling weak as he let his fantasy dissipate.

He didn’t know how much longer he could continue without having her in his arms. He didn’t know how he could endure meeting her gaze with such filthy thoughts of her in his mind.

Later that day, as he caught her eye as she sat with the ladies of the court, he felt his face flush, the images of her he conjured in the privacy of his chambers rushing back to him.

The warm smile and small wave she sent him only incensed him further, leaving him to contemplate for a few long moments whether he should neglect his training with Ser Criston to return to his chambers and deal with the heat she had unknowingly spread throughout his body that was undoubtedly weak for her.

He was doomed to her.

The longer he repressed his growing feelings for his best friend, the more he couldn’t get her off his mind.

He woke early one morning to avoid passing her by, knowing with one mere look at her he would be a distracted, bumbling mess for the rest of the day. He was determined to get through at least one training session without his thoughts drifting to her.

He had been successful for a short time, managing to best Ser Criston time and time again, his focus purely on the weapon he wielded with precision.

Until he heard that familiar laugh, a sound so purely wonderful, it almost knocked him off his feet.

His gaze wandered around the training yard before they found her, as he always would, her arm linked through Helaena’s their smiles wide as they watched the training commence.

As if sensing his gaze on her, she turned her head, her eyes meeting his. She smiled, the sight blindingly beautiful. He sent her a wave, hoping the blush on his cheeks wasn’t as severe as it felt.

The sound of a throat clearing beside him broke him out of his daze and he turned sharply to meet the knowing smirk of Ser Criston.

“Shall we continue or are you done for the day?”

The knight’s tone implied he knew exactly what thoughts had been running through the Prince’s mind the moment he saw his dear friend. Anyone with eyes and half a working brain could see the affection the Prince and the Ixtal girl held for each other.

Aemond grit his teeth, sending a glare the knight’s way as he spun his sword effortlessly, a flagrant display of his prowess with his beloved blade.

“I am more than ready to continue, but if you require a break I will gladly find another opponent to knock into the dirt.”

Criston snorted and raised his sword, giving the young Prince he had valiantly trained a pointed look.

With one last gaze up to the woman on the balcony, the sly wink she sent him giving him all the drive needed, he raised his sword and struck a deadly swing towards his mentor who scrambled to block it.

His heart raced with adrenaline. The wink she had sent him igniting the fire in his blood, only incenting him to display his power to her, determined to win, determined to show her his strength.

He wasn’t a boastful man, he left those frivolities to his older brother, but when it came to her he suddenly didn’t recognize the feelings within him, the desires that had taken root that seemed to unravel him to his most basic senses.

Up on the balcony she repressed a shiver as she watched Aemond fight with an ease that made her body heat and caused her mind to conjure things her Septa would’ve slapped her for ever thinking as an unmarried woman.

“He’s very good.” Helaena commented, not noticing the desire now lingering in her friend’s eyes.

“Yes, he is.” She murmured, attempting to shake herself from thoughts of him handling her in the delicate yet deliberate way he did his sword.

Later that night, as she and her father joined the Targaryen family for dinner, she couldn’t get her mind off of what she had seen in the training yard. She couldn’t help the nervous flutters that erupted within her as she took her seat in between Helaena and Aemond.

It was her usual seat, she had spent too many dinners to count by his side, but for reasons she couldn’t quite understand - or refused to - she suddenly felt bashful in her friend’s presence.

The smile he sent her in greeting made her stomach flip.

She could barely concentrate on anything besides his presence beside her. She was sure she was about to crumble into a puddle as his fingers brushed against hers as he passed her the jug of wine.

She took greedy swallows of the drink, hoping it would dull her sense enough to withstand the looks he sent her every now and again, his smile warm, his gentle affection subtle but enough to undo her completely.

As Helaena engaged her in conversation, telling her one of the many stories of her beloved twins, she let her thoughts of Aemond dissipate, smiling softly to her dear friend who glowed with her love of her children.

She listened intently, allowing her nerves to retreat to the shadows of her mind.

As conversations around the table continued, she let her eyes wander curiously. She turned her head, catching Aemond’s gaze already on hers. He straightened and abruptly tore his eye back to the plate in front of him, though the blush that grew on his cheeks was undeniable.

A shock of excitement rushed through her at his reaction, suddenly realizing she wasn’t as hopeless as she had thought. She thought back to all the times she had caught Aemond looking at her, all the times he sought her out before anyone else, all the times he had abandoned whatever it was he was doing just to see her and spend a mere moment together.

She suddenly wondered if it meant as much to him as it did to her.

She wondered if her dear friend was caught in the same haze of longing she found herself drowning in.

The slamming of the door made her flinch, the book she was reading slipping from her hands. She sat up straighter when she noticed Aemond standing rigid, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he tried to rein in his anger.

“What happened?”

“My fucking grandsire.” He seethed.

She remained seated and silent, allowing Aemond to vent out his anger.

“They want to betrothe me to some Baratheon girl.” He explained as he began to pace erratically. “They’re bringing her to court for the Summer Feast. They expect me to do my duty with that plain-” He stopped himself abruptly before any insults could pass his lips.

She frowned, setting her book aside.

“Tell them you don’t wish to marry her.”

Aemond hummed, the sound more bitter than she had ever heard it. “My grandsire isn’t as agreeable as your father.”

He knew the Lord of Ixtal had vetoed a number of requests for his daughter’s hand at her request. He didn’t want his daughter shackled to a man she did not desire.

He wished his family was as caring to his needs as hers was.

“Well, I guess you need to find the love of your life before the Baratheon girl arrives.”

Aemond looked over at her plainly, clearly not in the joking mood.

“This is not funny.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t see what the issue is. Tell your family this isn’t what you want.”

“They don’t care about what any of us want. If they did, Helaena wouldn’t be forced at Aegon’s side.”

She frowned at the mention of her dear friend and what she had to endure with her drunken leech of a husband.

“I’m running out of time.” Aemond sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’ve been able to keep them at bay the past few years, but they’re becoming more incessant, I can’t stall any longer.”

The thought of being forced to marry some girl he didn’t know, a girl who would never compare to the woman in front of him, the woman he longed for, desired before he even knew what it meant to desire a woman, left him feeling hollow.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could solve this for you, but I don’t think your mother would take too kindly to my meddling.”

Aemond huffed out a laugh at the thought. He looked at his friend curiously, noting how cavalier she found the idea of marriage.

“Isn’t your father putting pressure on you to marry?”

“Not exactly. He’s hinting at the time coming for me to go back home, but no plans have been made just yet.”

Her words made his stomach twist. The thought of her leaving King’s Landing, of not seeing her everyday, was unfathomable.

“They don’t have a courtship lined up for you?”

“No. Who I marry is my decision.”

“Is it that easy?”

She breathed out a small laugh at his disbelieving tone.

“Ixtal isn’t as conservative as King’s Landing. We don’t force people to be together, we don’t expect women to wait to find pleasure until marriage. We don’t expect a fruitful marriage to come from sexual disappointment.”

Aemond blushed at her words, his eyes darting to the wall behind her, unable to keep her gaze as she spoke of things his mother would’ve slapped their wrists for.

“My mother said marriage is for the sake of duty. To unite strong houses.”

She scoffed, sending her friend a pointed look of disappointment.

“You’re forced to marry for every reason other than your own happiness. It’s barbaric.”

“It is duty.”

“So you just accept it? Being tied to someone you don’t love for the rest of your life?”

“Some grow to love each other.” He said quietly, though he couldn’t deny how undesirable the customs, one he had known his entire life, sounded to his own ears.

“So if you’re betrothed to a Baratheon daughter, you’ll accept it?”

“No, of course not.” He answered immediately, his tone sharper than he intended.

“Why? You’ll have to marry someday. Soon I’ll need to go home and find myself a nice man to settle with.”

The reminder of his time with her coming to an end made it feel as though his heart was turning to stone. Her previous words about Ixtal’s customs suddenly came screaming back to him and his hands tightened into fists, fury rising within him at the thought of men touching her, kissing her, making love to her.

“Aemond.”

The sound of that beautiful voice saying his name made him look up, the anger inside him washing away at the knowing look on her face. She stood from her seat and took slow steps towards him until she was only inches away, making his throat tighten at the closeness he was constantly longing for.

The unspoken things between them bubbled to the surface, reaching a boiling point as they looked at each other in the dim light, the topic of conversation causing tensions to run high, threatening to reveal true emotions that were kept hidden for so long.

“Eventually, you’ll have to marry, and so will I. We’ll have to do our duty, as you say.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes unable to hold her gaze any longer, falling onto his hands that clenched and unclenched as waves of anxiety passed through him.

She sighed heavily and stepped past him, moving towards the door. She loved so many things about Aemond, but his refusal to feel anything but anger, his stubborn nature to speak his true thoughts, angered her.

“I don’t want you to go back to Ixtal.” He admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. But she heard him. She would always hear him.

“Why?”

“Because you belong here.” He told her, his gaze rising to pierce into hers, his tone becoming sharp once more. “Because the thought of you going home, marrying some man that doesn’t deserve you, makes me furious. The thought of you-” He stopped abruptly, looking away from her, his hands clenched tightly.

“Would you be jealous knowing another man has touched me?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he turned on his heel and moved towards her so they were now chest to chest. He had to fight hard to keep his composure, to not close his eyes in bliss at the feeling of her body against his.

“I would kill every man that dared to touch you.”

A devious smirk grew on her lips, one he wanted to kiss away desperately.

“Would you feel jealous if-”

“Yes.” She answered immediately, shamelessly. She smirked at the way his breath hitched, as the hunger in his eye grew tenfold. “I don’t share.”

Aemond almost choked on his breath at her insinuation.

Her arms slithered over his shoulders, pulling him in closer to her, close enough they could feel the other’s heart racing wildly.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” She whispered and Aemond could’ve sworn he would melt into the floor into a puddle of nothing.

Her lips crashed onto his and he was powerless against her touch. He kissed her back with a furious desperation, revealing every ounce of desire he held for her. He needed her like the air he breathed and it was never more evident in the way his lips molded against hers, in the way his tongue tangled with hers, how his hands held to her hips tightly, ensuring she couldn’t part from his side.

Her nails scratched against the leather of his doublet as she kissed him fiercely, hoping he would understand, hoping the hunger in her kiss and touch was enough to make him realize she didn’t want anyone but him.

His mind was blank save for thoughts of her.

The duty he had adhered to his entire life, the duty that had been instilled in him since his birth, didn’t exist. His duty to his mother, to his grandfather, didn’t exist as he kissed her.

He knew then and there that he was going to marry her, his only friend, the beautiful girl that had his young heart racing, or he wouldn’t marry at all.

They pulled away from the kiss, the both of them breathing heavily, neither parting too far from the other. Aemond smiled softly and let his forehead rest against hers.

“I won’t marry her.” He breathed out in promise, his chest tightening pleasurably as he saw the smile that grew on her kiss swollen lips.

“Iksā ñuhon, issa prūmia.” He whispered and placed a soft, slow kiss to her lips once more.

Her mind was racing. She knew few Valyrian words but none sounded familiar.

“What does that mean?”

Aemond just smiled and kissed her again, content to stay in that moment for the rest of his life.

The gravity of their actions, the realization that anyone could have walked into the library and saw them, could have told his mother or his grandfather, didn’t catch up to him until he had parted from her side and settled into bed for the night.

He lay rigid, his mind racing, his heart heavy with guilt.

If anyone had seen them it would have ruined her reputation. She’d be painted as a whore. The court would speculate what other Lord she’d kissed or opened her legs to.

Aemond couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t ruin her.

The next morning, every ounce of bliss he had felt with her lips against his was tainted with worry. He found her in the gardens, his cold stare softening as he spotted her sitting with Helaena and the twins.

The sight of her with little Jaeheara in her arms made his heart stop for a moment. He swallowed thickly, desperately moving past the emotions, the longing, the sight stirred within him.

“Good morning, brother.” Helaena greeted him brightly.

He just nodded briefly in greeting, his posture stiff as his gaze landed on her.

“Can we talk?”

Her smile faltered slightly and she placed the babe in her arms back to her mother before taking his offered arm, Aemond guiding them away from prying ears.

“Is everything alright?”

“What happened yesterday-”

“Do you regret it?” She asked stiffly, her worry evident as her grip on his arm became lax, as if she suddenly wanted to be anywhere but by his side.

“No! Never.” He responded frantically, his eyes leaving hers to take in their surroundings, making sure no one would hear them. “Yesterday was… it was long overdue.”

“Then why are you so tense?”

“No one can know.”

She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging.

“The rumors that would spread if people saw us together would ruin you.”

“I think you’re giving the court too much credit.” She responded flippantly, her annoyance growing at Aemond’s worry. “Are you going to let me have a say in this or are we going to let the court decide our future for us?”

He spoke her name softly in exasperation, sparking her anger. She wrenched her arm out of his and walked a few paces to gain distance from him. She couldn’t think clearly so close to him.

“If you weren’t being truthful yesterday then tell me. Spare me the lies and tell me how you truly feel.”

“I wasn’t lying.” He assured her, his heart beginning to race in fear for where this conversation was headed. He loathed to hear the doubt in her voice. “I refuse to marry the Baratheon girl, I only want you.” He told her, his voice much quieter than before.

The fire in her eyes dissipated, her fears subsiding and she stayed still in her spot as he stepped towards her, closing the distance between them.

“We must keep this between us for now, at least until my father is more lucid and I can take our betrothal to him. I cannot let my grandfather know of this. He will only find a way to speed up a wedding to the Baratheon girl or any other Lady in the Keep.”

She looked up at him with a smirk, her heart jumping at his words.

“Betrothal?”

Aemond flushed and cleared his throat, as if the words were tightening his throat.

“Well, yes… is that not what-”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” She spoke in an overly saturated tone, interrupting his nervous words. He looked at her fiercely, his lone eye betraying every ounce of lust, longing, and annoyance he held for her games.

“You will never stop vexing me, will you?”

“I am certain you love it.” She teased, his swiftly pink turning cheeks all the answer she needed from him. She straightened, clearing her throat, as she moved back to the matter at hand. “So we must sneak around?”

He looked regretful, his hands gently taking hers.

“I know it’s not ideal.”

She shrugged. “If that is the only way I can have you now, then I can live with it.”

Aemond smiled, a breath of relief leaving his lips, the heavy weight on his chest dissipating quickly.

A smirk grew on her lips, one he knew signaled mischief.

“So, that means we’d have to remain as friends in public.” She surmised, stepping closer to him, much too close, as their chests brushed against each other. “But behind closed doors…”

Aemond swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed as she leaned in, his lips brushing against his ear as she spoke.

“...I can do what I want with you.”

Aemond cleared his throat, desperately trying to keep a hold of what little control he had left.

“When we are behind closed doors, which we are not.” He reminded her, sounding exasperated, making her laugh softly.

She loved the effect she had on him.

“Meet me in my chambers tonight.” She whispered and placed a soft, barely there, kiss to his cheek, before leaving his side and making her way back to Helaena, leaving him with pink cheeks and a racing heart.

Night couldn’t have come fast enough. He spent the day training vigorously, Ser Criston taking the brunt of his pent up anticipation with round after round of sparring. His knee bounced impatiently throughout dinner, paying no mind to his mother’s attempts to bring him into the conversations he couldn’t bother to focus on.

He waited, long, torturous hours, until the sun had finally set and night descended on the Keep, the halls clearing as Lords, Ladies and their servants alike settled in for the night.

He paced in his room for longer than he would ever admit, his nerves bubbling low in his stomach, his hands twitching as he longed to reach for a goblet of wine to ease his worries.

He knew if his mother were to ever discover he had entered a lady’s chambers in the dead of night, let alone a Lady he was undeniably close to, she would slap him until he found his sense once again.

Though no amount of worry, no guilt over his allegiance to his duty could ever be enough to overtake what he felt for her, what he had unknowingly felt for so long.

With only his desire to see her, he purposefully strode across his room and pushed at the stone wall, silently thanking his brother for drunkenly revealing to him the secret passageways years ago.

It only took a few minutes until he found her door. With a deep breath, he stepped in slowly, his eyes immediately finding her as she sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed the sheer slip she wore as she readied herself for bed.

He cleared his throat, feeling a blush quickly and involuntarily growing on his cheeks as her eyes rose to meet his.

“You came.” She smiled.

“Of course I did.”

She got to her feet, taking slow steps towards him, as if he were a wild animal that would spook if she got too close too quickly. She knew he had a strong sense of duty, of what behavior was becoming of a princely man, it had been instilled in him by his family since he was born.

She knew he was breaking every single one of those lessons by being in her room so late at night.

“You know we do not have to sneak around. You can wait to court me as is proper.” She reminded him, hoping to ease his discomfort.

“I can’t take that risk.” He spoke smoothly, as if it didn’t even require a second thought. “I can’t take the chance that we will be denied. I can’t lose you before I’ve even had you.”

She smiled, her heart jumping in anticipation.

“So take me while you can.”

Barely a second later Aemond had crossed the room, his hands cradling her face gently as he crashed his lips to her, kissing her passionately, revealing every ounce of his desire for her.

She moaned happily against his lips, the noise forcing his body to tighten, every shred of control he thought he possessed gone in an instant.

They kissed as if they had been lovers for years, as if he had been gone for so long and they couldn’t wait to reunite as only lovers could.

His hands greedily roamed the curves he had admired for years. Her hands wove into his silken hair she had braided many times as children. The innocence was gone between them, no childlike wonderment left, leaving only their loving, lustful desires.

They pulled away after a few minutes, the both of them breathing heavily, their swollen lips turning upwards into a shared smile as their eyes met, the pure bliss in his lone eye matching hers.

He moved in again, desperate to get her lips back on his, but her hands on his chest stopped him. His brows furrowed, a strike of worry lashing him as he gazed at her in concern.

“I want to see all of you.” Her quiet voice spoke, her delicate touch framing his face, her fingers slowly canting upwards to trace the edge of his scar.

He flinched instinctively, having never felt the touch of another there, but almost instantly calmed as he stared into her eyes that reflected nothing but love and trust.

She had been there for him through everything, she had been the only one to see him for more than his title, to respect him as he was, simply a boy trying to find his place in the world.

He let out a shuddering breath, allowing his forehead to rest against hers as he built up the courage he needed to reveal his eye to her.

“Every part of you is beautiful, Aemond. I have known that for years and I certainly won’t think differently tomorrow.” She reassured him, her velvet voice melting the hardened resentment within him.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and reached up slowly, willing his hands not to tremble as he grasped the patch over his eye. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the sparkling sapphire in place of his eye.

A small laugh left her, scaring him momentarily until he saw the delight in her gaze rather than mocking cruelty as he had suddenly feared.

“I can’t believe you really listened to me.”

He smiled bashfully, remembering a conversation years ago, when she had suggested he put a ruby in place of his eye to resemble that of a dragon eye. He never told her when he took her suggestion, feeling too silly to divulge such a thing.

“Well, I’m sorry it’s not a ruby.”

She shook her head, her smile never faltering. “Why did you pick a sapphire?”

“It reminded me of the sea.” He stated simply, watching with bashful satisfaction as her smile smoothed out, her expression one of touched devotion.

He always told her she reminded him of the calming and luxurious blue waves that crashed on the shores of Ixtal, the waves he had become mesmerized by the day he met her.

“It’s beautiful.” She breathed out, feeling unable to take her eyes off the shining gem that made the man in front of her look even more ethereal than he already did.

Her eyes found the gem between every breathless and fiery kiss, somehow lingering as he pulled his clothes off, remaining, as if for comfort, as she bared herself to him for the first time.

It was a beacon to her, the guiding light in the ferocity of a storm, calming every one of her nerves as she was reminded he was hers just as she was his, as they always had been.

She felt as though there were sparks igniting under her skin as he touched her. She felt herself melt under his delicate fingers that curiously roamed her body. She felt beautiful under his awed gaze as he eagerly took in every inch of her, as if she were a divine entity he would soon bow to.

The second a gasp escaped her as his fingers found the wetness between her thighs, Aemond’s eye snapped to hers. He watched with wonderment as she vocalized her pleasure, pleasure that was because of him.

She smiled against his lips as he suddenly kissed her with a might she had never felt before. She was powerless against his hungry lips.

He let out a stunted breath at the sound of the whine that fell past her lips as he curled his finger, seeking out her pleasure, eager for it as if it were his own

The two of them never let their eyes wander too far from each other. He watched with a wide, amazed gaze as he brought her to her peak with his fingers, delighting in the pain he felt as her nails dug into his shoulder as her hips grinded against his hand.

The sounds of her soft moans echoed in his ears, alighting his body with furious desire.

As he settled between her legs, he looked down at her, his eyes posing his silent question, the devotion she saw from the beauty of his lone eye, that she felt from the gentle touch of the tips of his fingers that traced lines up and down her thighs, was enough to have her nodding immediately, fiery want washing over her.

He never dared to look away from the depth of her eyes as he delved inside her for the first time.

He watched her carefully, whispering apologies as she gasped, the foreign feeling making her tense slightly. His gentle caresses, his soft kisses down the length of her neck, the words of praise he gave her, were enough to soothe her, her body relaxing, the pain fading.

He began to thrust slowly, the pleasure soon becoming too much and his eye fell closed as he shuddered from the delirious pleasure of being inside of her, but he forced himself to bring his gaze back to her, taking in the starry eyed look in her own.

Their hands never left each other, Aemond gripped her hips as if he feared she would soon be forced away from him, her hands gripping onto his shoulders to ground herself in the wake of the unexpected pleasure he brought her.

His nose brushed against hers as he kissed her softly, his hips finding a rhythm that made them both sigh in delight. He felt his limbs tremble, his resolve slipping the longer he stayed inside her, quickly realizing nothing in his entire existence would ever compare to this, to being with her, the woman he loved more than life itself.

“Aemond.” She breathed out, pleading for him, pleading for this never to end, to never lose each other.

He squeezed his eye shut briefly, his movements becoming more controlled as he let his body adjust to the ecstasy he was feeling.

“You’re mine.” He panted, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her soft skin affectionately. “You will always be mine.”

She nodded frantically, a moan falling past her lips as he found the spot inside her that made stars explode before her.

The noise had Aemond gritting his teeth, a desperate growl sounding and he knew this would be ending soon.

He quickened his movements, his hips rolling rapidly against hers. He choked out a surprised sounding moan as her legs wove around his waist, pulling him in deeper.

“Oh, Gods, I can’t-”

“Give it to me, Aemond. I want it. I want all of you.” She replied frantically, the growl in his voice causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.

She watched, entirely raptured by the sight before her as Aemond’s jaw dropped, his eye widening before slamming shut, his body trembling as a loud, desperate sounding groan fell from his lips. His hips became erratic, his movements becoming sloppy as he came hard, untethered from his control.

She gasped at the feeling, the tingling in her spine spreading until it burst, a cry of his name sounding in the room as she fell off the edge just a moment behind him.

Aemond slumped against her, his chest heaving alongside her own, his shuddering breaths cooling the skin at her shoulder where his head rested.

She ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and found their way into his hair and she began to run her fingers through his mussed strands gently as she found her way back to her body.

After a moment of quiet as their breathing relaxed, Aemond raised his head, his eye finding hers, her gaze locking onto the gem once more, their shared smiles bashful.

A soft giggle sounded from her and Aemond wanted to melt into her all over again. He rested his head against hers, placing a soft kiss to her lips.

“I love you.” He whispered in the quiet room.

“I love you.” She told him with just as much honesty and devotion as had sounded in his voice.

ENJOY! XX

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fic

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writing-flower · 12 days ago

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“ Between life and death, death is tempting ”

First act: “From the roots”

Prologue: “Happy fifteenth birthday! (Again?)”

WARNING: Mention of blood and death.

My memory had never been the best, it was good, but not exceptional. Nothing out of this world.

I wasn't as smart as Damian or Tim, I wasn't as strong as Jason or Dick, nor was I as sharp as Bruce Wayne.

I wasn't exceptional, but I was good, but not good enough for them. For him.

God, I was so focused on getting his attention, playing sports, try to pass every subject with the highest grade, join any club like debate or math.

Anything, but all that never leads to anything.

Well, almost nothing, everything I did only caused Damian to see me as a desperate for attention, which, he wasn't wrong.

But still, it didn't make it hurt any less, every insult, malicious insinuation even the occasional threat flying through the air, each one was the result of three years of trying to get someone to look at me.

Sometimes that attention only appeared with Dick, on the few times that he came to visit and came across a scene of me with Damian, He immediately stopped him.

Forcing him to apologize, spoiler, he never apologized.

The first time it happened I thought that my attempts had finally yielded good results, but no, I dare say this was worse.

As if he gave me hope and then suddenly he snatches it away without any fanfare.

Oh wait, that's literally what happened.

And about the others, I didn't even have the chance to talk to them, simply because I was already tired and also because if Damian continued he would have more reasons to screw me.

And let's face it, nobody wants to feed the wolf because you know it bites.

In this case, the bird.

It didn't help that almost the entire family was going on patrol, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in being part of that, but then I remember Jason...I immediately got that idea out of my mind.

Mm, but if I stop to think, or rather, remember, another thing that I learned in my attempts to get my family's attention, I fell in love with dance.

It was the only class that I didn't drop like the others, I genuinely loved it.

Once in her class, the teacher made us all dance with large, long, and thin fabrics. She made us dance what we wanted, in her words: “Dance as if you were free”.

My companions danced with joy, I just stayed silent for a few moments watching them without knowing how to start.

But then I sighed to close my eyes, letting my body move as it wanted.

“Dance as if you were free” I thought, I started to imagine the music in my head. It was nice, I love it.

I went from knowing what the hell to do to starting to laugh with my classmates, I turned around and then curtsied, feeling how almost all the fabric covered my body.

I open my eyes and see my entire audience applauding, not just me, but also the rest of the dancers.

As soon as I turned eighteen I followed my teacher's advice. I didn't do it before because I was a minor, I needed my tutor's permission and blah blah blah...

Contact with my family at this point was zero, except for the new member, Duke, a sweet and kind boy.

Just looking at him made prayers come to mind for Bruce.

“If you let this kid end up like Jason, I’ll take care of throwing the Joker at you myself, you unhappy idiot.” I was thinking but also listening as Duke energetically told me what his first patrol had been like.

I used to have a certain respect for Bruce, I mean, he's Batman and he does everything in his power to make sure Gotham isn't in such a shitty place.

But then I remember that he keeps adopting children as if they were dogs to give them "A better life" by turning them into human weapons.

Sooooo, yeah, I wish that every day he wakes up with a backache and a headache.

"[Name]"

"Yes dear?" Through the mirror I watched Duke looking at me hopefully as I put on my makeup for the upcoming performance in an hour.

Oh no, I already know what he's going to ask.

"Why do you never come to the mansion?" God, I swear he does that look on purpose, brat.

I sigh as I turn around to look at him.

"You already know my answer, I have no reason to do it and I don't want to either." I said as I turned back to the mirror to continue.

"Yes! I know, but why exactly don't you want to?"

A silence reigned in the room, putting on my makeup but at the same time thinking about what to answer him.

As much as I resent the Waynes, they didn't do anything to Duke, until now, they treat him as he deserves and the last thing I want is to plant that seed of hatred towards them in Duke.

Because I know him, as soon as I tell him what my childhood was like in that mansion and those responsible, the first thing he will do is complain.

And at this point in my life I don't want any unnecessary drama with them.

I lowered the lipstick and looked at him.

"I never liked being in that mansion, since I was little I was always afraid of those giant, dark hallways, and I still am."

Duke stared at me in bewilderment. "Is that the only reason you don't want to come to the mansion?"

I nodded. "It sounds stupid, I know, but every time I walk down those halls it brings back bad memories."

That wasn't a lie.

Duke was silent for a few moments before coming up to me and hugging me.

"Aww, honey you are such a sweetheart sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Yeah, because you can be a brat sometimes too." I laughed as I ruffled Duke's hair until it was disheveled.

"A white lie won't hurt anyone." I thought while Duke laughed and tried to pull my hand out of his hair.

Without realizing it, it was already time to start. I said goodbye to Duke, telling him to go back to the mansion, but he insisted on staying.

Something I allowed, GOD, I should have begged him not to do it.

Because from one moment to the next while I was dancing, all the lights went out and when they came back on I felt like blood was flooding my mouth, like everyone was screaming in fear.

What happened? Why am I bleeding?

Duke, he was next to me trying to keep me awake, to not close my eyes.

It got to the point where I couldn't hear anything he was saying, it was complicated while I felt like a part of my body was bleeding non-stop.

I hate to see him cry, please look away... leave me here.

Please...

I don't want the last thing I see to be you crying...

Please...

She opened her eyes calmly and confusedly, all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. She thought she was in a hospital because of the light.

But when her vision stopped blurring, she realized that the light was not from a hospital spotlight, but from the skylight in the wooden ceiling.

"Wait...Skylight?" She muttered, feeling her voice raspy and her throat sore.

The bed wasn't that soft, it was really hard and uncomfortable but still [Name] didn't want to get up, after almost dying...

[Name] sat up in bed right away.

"I ALMOST DIE!" She literally jumped out of bed and ran to the closet to get her clothes.

She needed to see how Duke was doing, his desperate face and the way he held back the urge to cry and couldn't, broke her heart.

But it was when she pulled out a t-shirt that she realized.

"This isn't my size..." Confused, [Name] walked over to the mirror.

If Duke broke her heart, now she's literally having a heart attack.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" [Name] could swear that any living thing that was near her would have run away in less time than it takes a rooster to crow.

She touched her face carefully, as if it would disappear or break if she touched it hard, this is so weird...a woman in her late twenties trapped in her fifteen year old self, god, what a hell.

[Name] She stepped back without taking her eyes off the mirror while she sat back down on her bed.

On the other side of the door, she heard someone knocking on it two or three times. Accompanied by a soft but direct voice calling her name.

"Miss [Name]"

[Name] immediately turned around to stare at the door, for a few short moments no one said anything, there was only silence.

"Are you okay? You didn't come down to breakfast. That's not something usual for you." Alfred said once he got no response from her.

"Yeah, I'm fine Alfred...I just stayed up late last night that's all..." She didn't know what to say, obviously it wasn't okay, but she didn't want any more problems in her head, she just wanted to focus on the main problem.

She literally just got younger, which would be a good thing if it weren't for the fact that she also came back to this damn mansion.

"Okay, miss, I'll be waiting for you with your breakfast, you need to eat something before you start the day." [Name] was about to reply until Alfred stepped in. "Also, Happy Birthday Miss."

She didn't say anything, she didn't want to.

Alfred walked away from the door, [Name] could hear his footsteps moving away through the hallways and down the stairs.

"Was it always this quiet?" She muttered in her mind as she turned her gaze back to the mirror.

She thought about her life before coming back here, it wasn't good, she didn't earn much from dancing, but... it was her life, a life that took her time to perfect.

And now, I go back to the beginning? Shit, no.

"Alive or dead, I don't care, either way I'm getting out of here..." She said with some frustration and tiredness. "Happy birthday to me...that's new."

With nothing left to lose, she gets back out of bed to find some clothes to change into.

It was her birthday and she had to look good.

And hopefully, it would be the last birthday she would spend in this mansion.

NOTES: Hi, I hope everything is okay, even if it's better than me, I had finished the 'prologue' a while ago but I was feeling a bit unsure that something felt out of place or "weird".

I repeat and reiterate, I can understand English but in terms of speaking/writing it I am still learning. Until I feel completely confident for now I will continue using the translator (my savior).

But if there are any errors (probably some, I hope not many) let me know, I want everyone to be able to read comfortably and as long as I can I will make it happen.

Anyway, I hope you like it, I love you! Muak muak💋💋

TAGS:

@crazycaoticsimp @closetreader1864

#batfam x neglected reader #batfamily x neglected reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily x reader #negligent batfam #yandere dc #yandere batboys #platonic batfam x reader #reader insert #platonic reader #neglected reader #batfamily #batfam dc #batfam #alfred pennyworth

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wttcsms · 3 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ keep it on the low !!

ᝰ.ᐟ if there's one thing every celebrity needs to master, it's the art of the soft launch. building up the anticipation by teasing your fans, leaving little easter eggs that only the two of you could possibly pick up on, playing coy whenever questioned about your relationship status... looks like you and him could write the how-to guide on this art form. alternatively: a headcanon post on how the two of you soft launch your relationship. ( sfw + fem!reader )

features osamu miya, kiyoomi sakusa, wakatoshi ushijima, tobio kageyama, tooru oikawa author's notes blue lock version!

౨ৎ OSAMU MIYA. you are: a famous influencer notorious for being bad at cooking. you could burn water at this point. it's okay, though, because at least your makeup tutorials and your day-in-the-life vlogs are always entertaining and fun. you always joke that you feel bad for your future husband, convinced that a life of takeout and restaurants is the only sustenance your future family is going to know. you posted: a tiktok of a man cooking in a kitchen that isn't the familiar one your fans have seen from your vlogs. he's wearing a black apron, a black t-shirt that hugs his biceps, and the veins in his forearms pop out as he quickly dices the vegetables on the cutting board. you don't show his face, but you do caption the video when he tells me it's okay i can't cook <3. suspiciously enough, the owner of onigiri miya has his own tiktok page where he posts cooking videos, and his kitchen looks exactly like the one you're recording in. matter of fact... osamu miya always wears that plain apron, too...

"thank you for the meal!" your feet don't hit the ground when you're sitting on this stool, and you're literally kicking your feet as you stare down gleefully at the plate of food he's prepared for you. the meal is great, and for dessert, you decide to read the flood of comments tagging miyaosamuofficial on your latest video. you won't confirm or deny, but when osamu convinces you to stay the night, you know that you'll be more than happy to share a when he cooks you breakfast <3 video next.

౨ৎ KIYOOMI SAKUSA. you are: a cheeky pop princess. with your promiscuous persona, your flirty songs laced with sexual jokes, and your minidresses that you flounce around in while on stage, you're the girlie that has parents gasping when they take their daughters to one of your shows. while there's been speculation that you're already in a relationship, since clearly there has to be someone inspiring all these ovulation songs, you've never confirmed anything. you performed: a special dance routine at your latest concert. while you normally wear extremely bright colored bodysuits or pastel babydolls, tonight you're dressed in a sparkly black and gold getup. all your male dancers are wearing fitted black shirts with three golden scratches down the back, and you make a show of grinding against one of the dancers, running your nails against his back. you're staring into the crowd, smiling cheekily. that same night, grainy footage is captured of kiyoomi sakusa standing in the crowd, watching the whole show. the mask he's wearing covers his facial expression, but he barely blinks throughout the entire show, as if he doesn't want to miss anything.

"and there's a special guest here tonight." your chest is rising and falling from how out of breath you are after an hour and a half of nonstop singing and dancing. this is your ending speech for the concert, and the crowd is going insane. "i really hope he enjoyed tonight's show as much as i know all of you did. the love songs... they all are about him." the screams from your fans are deafening, and kiyoomi's glad that his mask covers the blush that creeps on his face as he hears your confession.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA. you are: literally ushijima's wife. you're a fairly private person to begin with, and it's not like you two have been married for long. you've been engaged for nearly a year, and you do attend most of his games, but ushijima specifically requests that the suite you watch him from doesn't get filmed. he wants to protect your privacy as much as possible, until you're okay with being shown to the public. he posted: a picture of you smiling on christmas day as you open up a gift from your husband. the boulder on your finger can be seen from a mile away, and as dorky as ever, ushi captions the photo with a happy wife happy life 👍🏻

"what does this mean?" ushijima shows you his phone screen, and you squint at it before laughing. one of the tweets tagging ushi reads leave it to ushijimawakatoshi to fucking hard launch his wife one random xmas morning. "it means you posted about our relationship out of the blue. usually people soft launch before they confirm anything." "soft launch?" his eyebrows furrow adorably as he tries to piece together what you just told him. "like, if you were to soft launch us, you would post a picture that maybe doesn't show my face but people might infer that you're in a relationship based off the photo you took." "that's dumb." he says, in his familiar ushijima cadence that had you falling for him. "i'd never take a photo of you without showing your face. why would i want to hide you?"

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA. you are: japan's favorite nepo-baby model. with a face card like yours (and connections from your parents), it's no wonder why you're gracing every billboard in the city, and you're the spokesperson of a premier skincare brand. your fame gets you international publicity, and you're selected for the latest skims campaign. with an entire country in love with you, it might be a hard pill to swallow for your intense fanboys when they find out you're in love with japan's best setter. he posted: so many reposts of your campaigns. tobio still wants to support you, even if he knows that you two can't go public with your relationship just yet. he's actually branded (and sometimes mocked) as one of your biggest fanboys, and it doesn't help that during your skims campaign, he reposted every single ad featuring you.

"tobio, baby, you're so sweet, but you don't have to repost every ad." you tell your boyfriend, watching as clicks repost to yet another one of your photoshoots. "but i want to." he says. you kiss his cheek happily. "and that's exactly why i stayed back and did some extra photos on the skims set, just for you. these are pictures you might not want to repost, though." tobio isn't sure whether his eyes should stay glued to the personal photoshoot you did just for him, or to the real life you who's ready to show him what the set looks like in person.

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA. you are: currently visiting your beloved boyfriend in argentina. people know that you two are together, even though neither of you have confirmed it explicitly. it's pretty obvious, though, considering you're constantly seen with him, and he talks about how lucky he is that his girl is his number one supporter. someone posted: a viral video of a toned man wearing aqua blue swim shorts taking pictures of a beautiful girl laying down on a beach towel. not only are the two of you so hot that you look fresh out of a perfume ad, but to have a boyfriend so devoted to getting your best angles? iconic, truly. fans don't even realize that it's you and oikawa until someone points it out.

"tooru, are you taking multiple photos or just one?" you try not to move your lips too much when you speak, uncertain of when he's going to snap a pic. "you trained me well." tooru whines. "obviously, i'm taking several at once." "and make sure the lighting is good!" you remind him. "it doesn't matter how i take the photos, baby. you're still going to look good in them, regardless." "aw... are you sweet talking me because some of the pictures are blurry?" when your boyfriend starts showering you with more compliments, you know the pics are definitely not going to be instagram-worthy. he's lucky he's so cute.

#osamu miya x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #osamu x reader #sakusa x reader #ushijima x reader #kageyama x reader #oikawa x reader #hq x reader #hq headcanons #haikyuu x reader #fluff #drabble #hq imagines #hq scenarios

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redroomreflections · 1 month ago

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Her Best Secret

1950s Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and R are having an affair.

Note: I wrote this after watching Mother's Instinct with Anne Hathway and Jessica Chastain. I needed to make it gay. I don't know what this is truly but it's here.

Warnings: Smut and fluff kind off.

Picket fences. Two-and-a-half children. A dog in the yard. A steady job. A house on a quiet street. Nuclear family. Marriage. College. This was what life was about. The checklist of happiness, painted in bright colors and polished to perfection, like the chrome trim on the cars Sam sold so well.

Tonight, it all seemed true. The music drifted out from the open windows of Steve and Natasha’s house, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass and neighbors' laughter on the patio. The neighborhood had turned out to celebrate Sam’s big promotion—another shiny star on the life everyone was striving for. You stood by the punch bowl, watching as Natasha twirled beneath Steve’s hand in the center of the makeshift dance floor. Her laughter was light and infectious, her cheeks flushed in a way that made her even more stunning under the string lights. She looked happy—effortlessly so.

Your gaze lingered a moment too long before you turned away, your hand brushing absently over the fabric of your dress. Sam was recounting the story of his big sale to an eager group of neighbors somewhere nearby. You could hear his voice rise and fall, full of charisma and charm, the same traits that had swept you off your feet all those years ago.

"Mama, come dance with us," Claire demanded as she tugged on your hand. Your daughter was the perfect mix of the two of you, and she never ceased to make your heart swell. You smiled down at her, smoothing the hair out of her face and taking in her toothy grin.

“In a minute,” you promised, swirling the punch in your glass. “Let me finish this.”

“Okay,” Claire shrugged, already distracted. She launched into her version of the jitterbug as “Why Do Fools Fall In Love” spun on the record player. Her tiny feet shuffled wildly, arms flailing with abandon. It wasn’t quite the jitterbug but hers, and she owned it.

You smiled, watching her. The song brought back memories of Sam. You could almost feel the warmth of his hands around your waist, guiding you through the steps, the two of you laughing and stumbling over each other in the middle of your living room. A good memory.

“It’s a great party, right?” came a voice behind you.

You turned to see Sarah Wilson, her warm smile disarming as always. She was one of those rare people who could make anyone feel at home. Your sister-in-law had been a steady presence in your life, offering unsolicited advice and unwavering support.

“Oh, of course,” you nodded, eyes flicking between Claire’s eclectic moves and Natasha and Steve, who were swaying comfortably in the center of the dance floor. “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Sarah chuckled, nodding toward the dance floor. “I didn’t think Natasha would ever get Steve out there. That man’s all business. But look at them now.”

You smiled into your glass, forcing a little laugh. “They seem like they’re enjoying themselves.”

“Speaking of enjoying,” Sarah said, her tone shifting as her gaze landed on Claire. “Your little one’s a great dancer. She’s got rhythm for sure.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a touch of pride.

“Have you two thought about giving her another playmate?” Sarah’s voice was casual, but her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

The question was unexpected, and you took a step back. It was a fair question. Most couples with kids would have more than one. You had known that since the day Claire was born. But the thought of having another child—with Sam, of all people—made your stomach churn.

Sarah was waiting, and you knew her well enough to know that she would keep pressing until you answered.

"Oh, well,” you began, fumbling for an answer, “I’ve been thinking about returning to work. It’s just not the right time for us.”

Sarah arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Work, huh? Well, I’m sure Sam has his own thoughts about that.”

Before you could respond, Sam appeared beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his easy grin softening the tension in your chest.

“Oh, nothing,” Sarah said lightly, though her tone betrayed her nosiness. “We were just talking about Claire’s dancing—and whether she might get a little brother or sister someday.”

Sam glanced at you, his brow lifting in amusement. “Is that so?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you shrugged helplessly.

“She said she’s thinking about returning to work,” Sarah added, her teasing smile turning to him.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Come on, Sarah. Leave her alone. She’s got enough on her plate without you playing matchmaker for the kids. If you'll excuse me, I want to dance with my wife."

Sarah rolled her eyes at her brother. Then, with a quick wink to you, she said, "Okay, okay, I can take a hint. But don't go too far. We're doing the fireworks after dinner and need help setting up all the chairs."

Sam took your hand and pulled you out onto the dancefloor, ignoring his sister, twirling you playfully before pulling you close. His eyes shone, and you wondered how much he had had to drink. It didn’t matter. You needed this right now; you needed to feel the warmth of his skin against yours and a distraction from seeing her with him.

"I didn't know you were thinking about returning to work," he said, his eyes searching yours.

"It's been on my mind, yes," You nodded.

"I thought we agreed you didn't need to," He tilted his head slightly. "You'd be leaving Claire with a babysitter or at daycare. We can afford to take care of her ourselves."

"I know, but..." You trailed off.

He grinned down at you, his frown barely noticeable as he leaned closer. “But what?”

You laughed softly, letting him spin you again, your hesitation hidden behind the dance. “I just… I like the idea of doing something for myself again, you know?”

Sam pulled you close, his hand firm at the small of your back. His grin widened, his tone teasing. “You mean besides raising the most beautiful kid in the neighborhood?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his charm. “Exactly,” you quipped, tapping his chest lightly. He pulled you tighter to him.

"I know it's what you want," He whispered. "But you look so beautiful when you're pregnant."

You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous, Sam."

"I'm just being honest," He said, his tone light and playful.

"You're drunk, and I'm tired." You tried to pull away, but he held fast, his hands firm on your hips.

"You know you want to," he teased, his breath hot on your ear. Finally, he sighed. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You muttered, closing your eyes as his lips brushed your temple. When he moved to kiss your lips, you didn't pull away. You loved Sam. You really did. You always had.

And yet...

"Okay, lovebirds,” came Natasha’s voice, cutting through the music with playful ease. “Sam, let me take her away. It’s my turn to dance.” She said it with a teasing grin, the kind that made her so easy to like. Natasha, your closest friend, was a familiar presence, one the neighborhood never found threatening.

Sam chuckled, loosening his hold on your waist. “Fine, but don’t wear her out,” he replied with mock seriousness. "I need her tonight."

You pulled away and offered him a polite smile, careful not to meet his gaze.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sam exchanging a glance with Steve. The two men shrugged, their silent communication as effortless as their friendship. They knew nothing could come between the two of you.

“You alright?” Natasha asked softly, her voice low enough for only you to hear.

“I’m fine,” you replied.

She smiled, her lips curving into that mischievous way of hers, her eyes sparkling like she already knew the truth. “Good. Let’s go find some real fun.”

Before you could respond, she grabbed your arm gently but insistently, steering you off the dance floor and down toward the basement. She fumbled for the light control before pulling the string.

“What are we doing down here?” you asked, a small laugh escaping as she guided you to the landing. "I'm going to twist my ankle."

Natasha continued. “Sometimes a girl needs to breathe,” she said lightly, though there was an undercurrent to her words. "And Steve keeps the good beers down here."

"Well, thank God for Steve," you laughed.

"Amen," Natasha nodded as she rumbled through the deep freeze. "Ah, we only have one."

"We can share it," You shrugged. "We have the best stories, and I think we've earned it."

"Cheers," Natasha said as she raised the can and pulled the tab to open it. She wasn't anticipating the rush of foam that exploded from the top, so she stepped back in horror. Droplets landed on the floor and her dress.

"Oh no," You groaned.

"Shit," She muttered, trying to brush the beer off her front.

"Oh, no. Natasha, I'm so sorry. Come here," You reached for the paper towels on the table and tried to wipe off the beer. "I think I made it worse."

"Yeah, me too," Natasha muttered, frowning as she dabbed at the wet stain. "God, I can't believe this. This is the worst."

You sighed, trying not to laugh. "It's not that bad. Just tell people it's a design feature. Or... or pretend it's a bloodstain. Tell people you got a little violent."

Natasha's laughter bubbled up, and she gave you a playful shove. "Don't joke like that! My blood is supposed to stay on the inside, thank you very much. Also, it's clear, and blood is red."

You chuckled, reaching for the can. "Here, give me some of that."

Natasha relented and watched as you sipped from the can. Her eyes never seemed to leave you.

"So...how's Sam?"

"He's...good."

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's it?"

You shrugged. "What do you want me to say? He's...good. Things are good."

"Mmm," she hummed, tilting her head slightly.

"What?" you asked, your voice coming out more defensively than you intended.

"What were you guys talking about?"

"Nothing. It was nothing. Just...work. Stuff. Things. Nothing important."

Natasha pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

You sighed, trying not to fidget under her stare. "He wants another baby."

Natasha blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what?"

"How do you feel about it?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "I mean, I love Claire, and I don't know if we're ready for another baby. And..." You trailed off.

"And?"

"It's just...hard," you admitted quietly. "He's so attentive when I'm pregnant, and I get to spend a lot of time with him, and then when the baby comes, he gets so busy. It's just...hard. And sometimes, I think maybe it would be better if we didn't have any more kids."

"You don't want Claire to have a sibling?" She probed. "Are you guys being careful?"

"By careful, do you mean not letting him finish inside me?"

"Um, yes?"

"Then yes," you confirmed, nodding. "Do you really want to hear the ways Sam and I are practicing safe sex?"

Natasha laughed, the sound soft and low, a private melody just for you. “No, no, I don’t,” she said, shaking her head slightly. She would rather you not sleep with him at all. She sighed, the corners of her mouth tugging downward, then licked her lips—a slow, deliberate motion that drew your attention, as it always did. That shade of red was your favorite on her, and she knew it.

Her green eyes met yours, steady and probing. “Are you happy?”

The question hit you like a stray gust of wind, sudden and disarming.

“Of course,” you replied, the words tumbling out too fast, too practiced. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Natasha raised a single, elegant eyebrow, the expression laced with skepticism. “Because I can tell when you’re lying,” she said plainly, her tone cutting through your defenses like a knife through butter.

Your shoulders slumped slightly as you leaned against the countertop. The calm surface grounded you, though it couldn’t stop the swirl of emotions rising in your chest. “It’s just hard sometimes,” you admitted quietly, almost to yourself.

Her gaze softened, the sharp edges of her wit giving way to something warmer, something more tender. “Yeah, I know,” she murmured.

She set down the beer can she’d been holding, the metallic clink almost imperceptible under the weight of her words. Her fingers drummed on the countertop; the rhythm was uneven, nearly hesitant, as if her thoughts were tangled in the silence between you. The crimson polish on her nails caught the dim light, matching the glow in her eyes as she studied you.

“Sometimes,” she began, her voice barely audible, “I think we forget we’re allowed to want more.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the implication hanging like unspoken truths. You glanced back toward the stairs, where laughter and music blasted above you, but it felt a world away from this moment.

“And what if we can’t have more?” you asked, your voice trembling just enough to betray the depth of the question.

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Then maybe we take what we can get,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving yours. Before you could respond, Natasha's lips were on yours. Soft. Warm. Inviting. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body.

A quiet moan escaped her, muffled against your mouth, and you could taste the sweetness of the beer lingering on her tongue. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the warmth of her touch, in the familiar scent of her perfume. Your mind raced, and yet your thoughts were perfectly still. Her body was so different. Her touch was so different.

A loud thump, followed by the unmistakable sound of laughter, cut through the air. Then a cry and a scream of "Mama" followed. Natasha pulled away quickly, her face flushed, her breathing uneven. You glanced at the ceiling, the spell between you broken. That was the cry of your child.

"I should probably go and check on her," You said while Natasha spoke.

"We should probably get back," Natasha murmured.

You nodded, unable to meet her eyes. Wiping your mouth, you glanced back at her before heading upstairs.

*****

You could smell the firecrackers before you saw them, the sharp scent of smoke mingling with the sweet smell of hamburgers grilling. Claire sat in your lap, the three-year-old tired and sleepy from all the excitement. You couldn't blame her after the day chasing the other kids around the house.

Claire leaned her head against your chest, her eyes heavy with sleep. You rubbed her back absently, smiling at how her small hand curled around yours.

The sky was dark, but the backyard was lit by the string lights draped over the trees and the fireworks in the sky. You were amazed at how she could sleep through this. Sam sat next to you in the grass, his arms wrapped around your waist and his hands rubbing your side. He felt at home.

Briefly, you could see a flash of the light catching across a couple, and your eyes moved towards them. It was Natasha and Steve. He stood almost a foot taller than her, his arms wrapped around her midsection as she leaned back into his chest. They looked comfortable like they belonged together. How their bodies seemed to mold into each other was the kind of thing romance novels talked about.

They were so beautiful together.

The thought made you uneasy.

Sam leaned over and whispered in your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," you murmured, leaning into him. "Just a bit tired. She's a heavy sleeper."

He chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek. His thumb brushed your skin, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"You know, it's our anniversary tomorrow," He said, his tone casual, but the meaning behind his words clear.

"Oh," you said, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

"Yeah, five years," he smiled.

"Wow, I can't believe it's been that long," you admitted.

"Me neither," he grinned, kissing your lips softly. You couldn't see Natasha's eyes on the two of you.

Sam looked up and noticed the fireworks lighting the sky. He nudged Claire and whispered, "Come on, sweetheart. You're going to miss the fireworks."

Claire lifted her head, blinking blearily. "No, Daddy. I'm sleepy," she whined.

"Come on, pumpkin. Let's watch the show," Sam coaxed, his voice gentle and coaxing. Claire groaned softly but let Sam lift her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Alright, pumpkin,” he said with a chuckle, “just for a little while.”

You watched them walk toward the edge of the patio, where the first bursts of fireworks lit up the night sky. Claire’s sleepy eyes reflected the vibrant colors as she yawned against her daddy's chest.

Five years. It was a long time. You'd built a life together. One you were proud of. One you were comfortable with.

Your eyes drifted to the couple again, and your chest tightened. Natasha and Steve looked so natural together. So at ease. And then there was you, feeling like an imposter. You weren’t the girl Sam fell in love with anymore. You weren't the one who wanted all the same things he did. And you couldn't tell him. You couldn't shatter his image of you.

Sam whispered something into Claire's ear, lifting her head to look at you.

"Mama, come watch."

"In a minute, baby," you called, your voice thick with emotion.

You swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears. How could you be so selfish? Sam had given you everything. He had given you Claire. You were blessed, yet you couldn't seem content with what you had.

Natasha echoed in your mind: Sometimes we forget we're allowed to want more.

*************

Tuesdays were sacred. At exactly 12:30, without fail, Natasha would appear at your front door, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she walked the three doors down. By the time the clock struck the half-hour, you would already have the kettle whistling on the stove and the good china laid out.

It started as a casual thing—a neighborly gesture during those quiet, lonesome afternoons when the house felt too big and Sam was at work. But over time, it became something more. A ritual. A promise.

This Tuesday was no different. You were finishing the vacuuming when you heard Claire shriek with laughter from the living room. You smiled to yourself, knowing what that meant.

You rounded the corner, the vacuum still humming, and saw Claire spinning in circles as Natasha crouched down to her level, a broad smile on her perfectly painted red lips.

“She’s getting good at this,” Natasha teased, catching Claire mid-spin and lifting her off the ground.

“Too good,” you replied, switching off the vacuum and leaning against the doorway. “She’s going to join the circus at this rate.”

Natasha laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her gaze traveled to the hallway and the bags of groceries waiting by the front door.

"Let me help," She said, setting Claire back on the floor.

"Thanks," you murmured, grabbing the nearest bag. "I don't know why I let Sam talk me into doing this today."

"Probably the same reason I let Steve convince me to get the new patio furniture," Natasha chuckled, following you into the kitchen.

"He can be persuasive, can't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he can," She agreed, her tone wistful.

"It's not a bad thing," You said, placing the bags on the counter.

"Tasha, come play," Claire begged.

"In a minute, little one," Natasha promised. Claire nodded and rushed back into the den with her toys.

"How about some tea?" You offered.

"You read my mind," Natasha smiled.

You took the teapot from the cupboard and filled it with water, watching as the steam rose from the spout. Your thoughts drifted back to that night in the basement, and you wondered if Natasha felt the same. There had been many nights like that. Many shared kisses. Shared looks. You think back to that night months again when you'd given her her first orgasm at the hands of a woman.

It was a moment that changed things. It was the moment you knew you were done pretending.

"I'm glad we have this," Natasha murmured.

"Tea?"

"No, silly. Time." She turned to look at you, her green eyes softening. "I'm glad we have this. This friendship."

You couldn't help but smile. "Me, too."

"So," Natasha said, leaning against the counter and folding her arms over her chest, "how are things going with you and Sam?"

You shrugged. "Good."

"That's all you're going to give me?" She prodded, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"There's not much to tell," you admitted.

"You guys had an anniversary a few nights ago," Natasha reminded you.

"Do we discuss the juicy details like that still?"

Natasha hesitated, then shook her head. "No, but I'm asking because I care about you, and I know Sam has been a bit persistent about the baby thing."

You sighed, turning back to the stove. You were silent.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said quietly. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no, it's fine," you assured her. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, it's just me," Natasha reminded you gently, reaching out to touch your arm. "You can tell me anything."

You hesitated, then blurted out, "What are we doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "What are we doing? Is this just a...thing?"

Natasha blinked, her expression unreadable. "A thing?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know, an escape or something," you tried to explain. "Like, a distraction."

Natasha shook her head slowly. "No, no, I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you say?"

"I'd say that I enjoy spending time with you. I'd say that you're a beautiful, smart, funny woman, and I'm lucky to call you a friend."

"But what does that mean?"

Natasha stepped closer, her hand moving from your arm to the small of your back. Her gaze never left yours, her eyes searching for an answer to a question she couldn't quite voice.

"It means that I care about you," she said softly. "And if you ever need a distraction, I'm here."

"What if I don't want a distraction?" You breathed.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You didn't answer. Instead, you pulled her across the kitchen to the laundry room. You left the door open to hear Claire in case she needed you. In an instant, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to hers, kissing her like it was the last time.

She kissed you back, her hands resting on your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. Her tongue parted your lips, and you tasted the sweetness of her breath. Her hands moved lower, sliding over your curves, and you moaned softly against her mouth.

"Tasha," You gasped as her fingers traced the waistband of your jeans, her touch burning hot against your skin.

She broke the kiss, her eyes dark and hooded. "Yes?"

"I want you."

"I'm yours."

Her lips crashed against yours, and her hands fumbled with the button of your jeans, her touch making your skin tingle.

"Tasha, we can't Claire's here." You reminded her between kisses.

"She's playing," Natasha muttered, her fingers finally popping the button. Before either of you could ponder her statement, the front door opened. In a flash, Natasha was in the kitchen, pushing the rest of the groceries into the fridge as you attempted to gather your bearings. She was so fast.

"Hello?" Sam's voice called from the foyer.

"We're in the kitchen," You answered, closing the laundry room door and ensuring it was locked.

Sam walked into the kitchen, his suit jacket draped over his arm and his tie loosened. "Hey," he smiled. "I thought I'd surprise you guys."

"Well, it worked," Natasha laughed.

"Sorry, I forgot my lunch. I'll grab it and head out," Sam said, moving past the two of you. He glanced between you, his gaze lingering on your face.

"I'm going to finish the dishes," You murmured, turning away.

Sam stopped and frowned. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just feeling a little tired."

"You should rest," Sam stepped closer to you. "Have a cup of tea?

"I will."

"Good," Sam leaned forward and kissed your cheek. "Love you."

"I love you too," You said, the words coming out automatically. Sam lingered, landing another sweet kiss on your lips.

Natasha looked over her shoulder at you, her expression unreadable. "Sam, before you go, can I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can I borrow a screwdriver? We're working on the deck chairs, and one of the bolts keeps slipping," She explained, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Sure, no problem," Sam said, digging through a drawer. He pulled out a screwdriver and handed it to Natasha. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Natasha smiled. "Oh, and before I forget, I'll have those pictures of Claire for you next week."

"Thanks," Sam replied. "And thanks for keeping them company."

"My pleasure," Natasha grinned.

"Okay, I'm heading back out. See you later, baby," Sam kissed you once more before disappearing into the foyer. The front door opened, then shut, leaving the house strangely empty.

"That was close," Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Yeah, it was," you agreed. "But it was worth it."

"Do you regret it?"

"No," you said without hesitation.

"Me neither," She murmured, stepping closer.

You leaned into her, resting your head against her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. "Tasha?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there. For being my friend. For just being...you."

Natasha hugged you, her arms wrapping around your waist and her chin resting on your head. "Anytime," she said softly, and you knew she meant it.

*****

Drive-In Night was interesting. It's a couple's night, truly. The four of you would get together and watch whatever movie was playing. This time, it was How to Marry A Millionaire. You all piled into Steve’s car, a vintage Chevy that seemed as timeless as its owner. It was a tight fit, but no one complained. The air buzzed with the crowd's excitement as headlights flickered across the makeshift parking lot of the drive-in theater.

Natasha sat into the passenger seat, leaning her elbow out the window, her eyes scanning the packed lot with a subtle smirk. “I’m impressed, Rogers. Didn’t think you’d show up for something so… pink.”

Steve laughed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What can I say? I’m broadening my horizons.”

From the backseat, you chuckled. “You mean Natasha dragged you here, didn’t she?”

“Guilty,” Steve admitted, glancing sideways at Natasha, who simply shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like Sam and I had a choice.”

Sam, beside you, snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Real gentlemen, right?” He stretched his arm along the back of the seat, pulling you closer. “But hey, don’t think I’m above enjoying a rom-com. I’ve got range.”

Natasha tilted her head back, laughing. “Sure, Wilson. You’ll be crying by the second act.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sam fired back, grinning.

You rolled your eyes fondly. They constantly bickered like this, but it was good-natured. You could tell they were friends. Real friends.

The movie began, and the warm glow of the screen washed over the car. The plot unfolded with charm, full of meet-cutes, sassy best friends, and conveniently timed rainstorms. It wasn’t bad, but you couldn’t help but notice Sam shifting every so often, clearly restless.

“Alright,” Sam announced midway through a particularly swoony montage. “Steve, snacks?”

Steve glanced at Natasha, who was far too engrossed in the movie to notice him leaving. “Yeah, good idea. You girls want anything?”

You and Natasha exchanged a look. “Popcorn,” you both said in unison.

Sam and Steve left the car, their silhouettes fading into the crowd as they made their way to the concession stand. Moving closer to the front seat, you shifted and settled comfortably against the backrest.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, a smile playing on her lips.

You smiled back.

The moment passed.

"You're so far away," You whispered.

"I know," she whispered back, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Come closer," She whispered. You climbed into the front seat, quickly glancing at the long concession line.

"Is this better?" You asked, settling in.

"Much," she said, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"You're cute," She said. What she was doing was risky business. While it was dark, anyone with eyes and the guts to look your way could see.

"So are you," You responded.

"I want to kiss you."

"You do?"

"I do."

"I want to fuck you," She said.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the heat between your thighs growing with each passing second. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You leaned in. Her hand rested on your thigh, rubbing you through your skirt. "Tasha," you whimpered.

"Yes, kitten," she whispered.

"We can't"

"Why not?"

"It's too risky."

"No one's looking."

"What about Sam and Steve?"

"They're at the concession stand. And the movie is loud."

"But what if someone hears?"

"We'll be quiet."

"We've never been quiet," You giggled.

"We'll try," she whispered. She knew she didn't have much time. She needed this to happen and fast. Her hand slipped under your skirt, and she felt the dampness of your panties.

"Jesus, you're soaked."

"I can't help it."

"Neither can I."

She slid her hand down, pushed your panties aside, and plunged her fingers inside you. Your hips bucked, and you bit back a moan.

"So tight," She moaned.

"So good," You whimpered. She was an expert by now. She knew your body well and learned how to make you cum.

She fucked you hard and fast, her fingers hitting all the right spots. She was gentle while somehow being able to get you there so quickly. You couldn't moan or tell her how close you were. You couldn't even thrust into her fingers. You could only sit there and take it. Your face remained natural even as you closed your eyes. The pleasure was too intense, and you wanted to focus on it. You wanted to savor every second.

When you came, you bit down on your lip, drawing blood. Natasha watched you come undone under her hand.

"You are perfect," She whispered, leaning in and kissing your cheek. You were a trembling mess.

"Tasha," You breathed, trying to catch your breath.

"I can't wait to do that again," She said.

"Me too."

She kissed your cheek once more before sitting back.

You were her best secret.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you

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