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tonycries · 8 months ago

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Lemme Ride, Baby!

Synopsis. Riding your cocky boyfriend to insanity is not a want, but a need. Especially when he sits there so deliciously arrogant - you just have to break him.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, cowgirl, slight switch! boys, established relationship, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, swearing.

Word count. 1.3k

A/N. Had this in my drafts for so long.

He sits across from you on the bed. Long legs spread, eyes half-lidded, and kiss-bitten lips turned into an aggravating smirk that makes your dripping cunt clench.

“Good luck lasting more than five seconds, pretty girl.” he drawled lazily, oozing pure cockiness.

So that’s how he’s gonna play, huh?

“Let’s see if you can live up to your own hype, darling.”

“Mhm, I won’t be the one begging for mercy.”

Ah, for the life of him he should’ve known. Should’ve gotten an inkling at the way you sauntered over to him in nothing but a predatory grin. Should’ve begged for mercy at that carnal gleam in your eyes that made blood rush straight to his traitorously hard cock. You wanted to eat him alive.

And he was going to eat his words.

At first, your cocky boyfriend pretended to be unfazed, laying back leisurely on his forearms. But you saw the way his eyes flickered with nervousness when you grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and slammed him onto the mattress. You felt the way his already-throbbing erection twitched so animalistically as you urgently swung a leg over his hips. You knew you had him wrapped around your little finger.

“Let’s hope you can last as long as you talk.”

Bullying his achingly hard cock into your snug cunt, sinking down agonizingly slowly. Relishing the way his eyes roll back in sheer ecstasy as your plushy walls suck him up so desperately. “Fuck, yes. You feel s’amazing wrapped around me. Sure you can handle it all?”

You waste no time.

Abruptly slamming down on his leaking cock. “Ah- Hah-” Your boyfriend’s surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth at a punishing pace.

Pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole. Slick dripping on his length, slamming down down down - his glistening veins massaging that one spot just right. Over and over. Harder. Faster.

The sinful squelches of your cunt filling the heady air of your bedroom. Driving him to insanity.

“Oh, god yes- jus’ like that ah fuck fuck fuck…” his low groans come in ragged bursts, cock twitching wildly. A large hand shoots up to clutch your bouncing breasts, tweaking your hardened nipples, the other having a white-knuckled grip on the sheets.

“Give up ye- ah! Hngh, you little fucker-” a moan escapes your lips as he bucks his hips defiantly, chasing his high. Thick tip kissing your cervix so painfully good.

Your hungry eyes bore into his blown-out ones, a defiant glint in them as he still tries to maintain his cool façade. Biting his bottom lip, brows furrowed in heavy concentration as he fights to hold back cumming.

Stubborn bastard.

Several things happen at once.

Your hand shoots out to grip his exposed neck, nails digging into his skin, hard. Almost as hard as you ram down on his cock, sheathing him till his twitching balls smack your ass. Wasting no time once he’s bottomed out. Harsh, purposeful movements just to fuck his soul out.

His pretty lips fall into soft oh. Fucked out, gurgled moans leaving his lips around the hand at his throat. “Oh! Ah! Shit, tha’s right. Take every inch.” And if he thought he was going to pass out before then-

He couldn’t even finish the thought, brain stuck on the way you clamp down so obscenely around him, milking him greedily. Biceps curling, a hand reaches above him to hold onto the headboard - and maybe his sanity.

“Give up yet?” You grind down mercilessly, walls hugging his throbbing erection impossibly tight. Clit rubbing against his toned pelvis. Back and forth and back and forth and- Sloppy, it was so sloppy.

Slick gushing out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “God, fuck- hah. That all you got, pretty girl?.”

Thighs burning, you alternate between torturously slow strokes and frantic bouncing that left you both restless. Hypnotizing rhythm him slowly towards the edge, only to reel him back again.

He will eat his words.

You lose track of time. Maybe it’s been hours - maybe even just a few minutes.

Pulling and pushing. Over and over.

“Ah- Hngh-.” Eyes barely keeping open, torn between the fucking obscene view of your dripping pussy swallowing his cock so greedily and the lustful, power-drunk expression on your face. “Wanna- wanna cum, pretty girl.”

“Then beg for it.”

“No.”

Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead. You watch, cunt fluttering at the fucked-out little smile curling his lips, and the carnal way his neck was leaning into the tight grasp you had around it.

You lean forward, a cruel smile playing on your lips, “Beg for it.” you repeat, voice sultry and dangerous.

He shakes his head desperately, tears peeking out from where his eyes were scrunched closed. “No.” he whispers, jaw clenched tight.

You press impossibly closer, breasts hot against his sculpted chest, sticky with sweat. Not stopping your maddening rhythm, your breath is hot against his ear, “Beg for it, and I’ll let you cum harder than you ever have before.”

He throws his head back, toes curling into the mattress, and thighs quivering at the way you were using him like nothing more than a toy.

“Please.” he finally breathes, words barely audible over the sloppy slapping of skin on skin.

“Louder.”

“Please, let me cum, pretty girl.” he groans, leaning into the mockingly innocent peck you leave on the tip of his nose.

You reward him, slamming down on his throbbing cock with renewed vigor. Finally giving into the way you were drunk off his cock just as much as he was off your pussy. A hand reaching behind you to massage his balls, feeling the weight on your palm. Tugging on them in a way that has his breath hitching and dick twitching so desperately inside you. Aching for release.

“God, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He lets out a guttural moan, thrusting up into you in short, frantic jabs to match your unforgiving cadence. His leaking tip hitting that perfect angle to send sparks flying behind your eyelids.

And you let him, chasing your high as much as his, eyes locked on his greedy gaze.

How long has it even been? All he knows is that fuck if heaven was real then he was there right now, looking at a goddess herself. Ah, close. So close. His thrusts grow jerkier, cock pulsing inside you.

“Cum for me, darling. Fill me up till you’re leaking out of me.”

A sharp whimper of your name and he’s spilling into you. His body bows into yours, thick, hot ropes of his cum that fill your snug cunt. Painting your walls white to match the pleasure that runs down his spine - all the way to his leaking cock. It gushes inside of you, trailing down his sensitive cock to form a creamy ring at his base.

Stars behind his eyes, teeth gritted. He’s heard of orgasms so powerful they take control of one’s body, and right now fuck if this isn’t that then he didn’t know what was.

Nails digging into your hips - keeping you still as he pounds into you, fucking his seed deeper and deeper. Cock throbbing around your quivering walls - overstimulated as you cum around the feeling of him filling you up. Vision blurring, blood roaring in your ears as everything crashes together like a tidal wave.

Before you know it, you’re collapsing onto his heated chest. Limbs tangled and breaths mingling as you both try to catch your breaths.

You can feel his cum leaking out of you, thick and sticky. Pooling between your legs. Stomach feeling so full of him.

“Looks like you talked a lot more shit than you could handle, darling.” you grin, still breathless.

Oh. You shouldn’t have said that.

It was like a flip switched.

Seizing your moment of weakness, rolling over in the blink of an eye. You sink into the now-soaked mattress as his large hands hold a bruising grip on your wrists, pinning them right above your head.

He loomed menacingly over you, low whisper hot against your ear and sending shivers down your spine.

“My turn, pretty girl.”

- GOJO, Choso, OIKAWA, Kuroo, Suna, Tsukishima, ATSUMU, EREN

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

3K notes · View notes

thexsilentxwordsmith · 30 days ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

“Get back ‘ere,” Lt. Simon Riley’s deep voice bellows angrily at the back of your quickly fleeing head as you storm clench fisted out of his private quarters before it disappears from his sight for a moment as you slam his door behind you so hard that it bounces off the frame and swings back open. He has no clue where you’re off to, but by the direction you’re headed, it looks like you’re going straight towards the parking lot.

God dammit, this isn’t how this is supposed to go. He curses himself for the way his emotions get the best of him sometimes and especially right now.

A mess of heavy breaths and barred teeth, you try to ignore the boot steps barreling towards you from behind. Nothing and no one is going to stop you from getting out of here and away from him, so you keep your face down, eyes staring at the long shadow of your body splaying out in front of you as the sun slips down further to the horizon. When you do finally look up your car is close and getting closer; good. You need to get off this fucking base to calm down before you explode in rage and do something stupid…like put your fist through a wall.

Again the lieutenant calls out your name to your fading figure with no luck and watches as you reach your vehicle without even acknowledging him anymore. It’s no use, you’re gonna take off no matter what he does, so finally he gives up with a loudly growled “fuckin’ hell” in agitation just as you reach out for the handle, storming back into the room with another loud bang as the door shuts and stays closed this time.

The noise makes the tension in your chest ease as you get in the driver’s seat and buckle up; at least he’s decided to actually leave you alone for now. Risking a quick glance back at the bare front of his closed door one more time you harshly turn the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, screeching wheels and a flurry of gravel the only sign of your exit.

“God dammit,” you mutter to yourself under your breath, your knuckles gripping into the steering wheel until they are white as you make your way up to the security booth to get cleared to leave. “What the fuck was that? Christ, he was angry. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Why does he think I have to put up with his shit?”

The guards at the stand can see the fury in your eyes as you roll up to the gate and they are quick to guide you through, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever has got you in a mood. They share a look between them after you drive off as somehow it feels like they’ve dodged a bullet, but that relief is short lived as not even ten minutes later the next person to come up to their gate has the same sour expression, except this one is partially shielded inside a jet black motorcycle helmet and black balaclava.

Those eyes though…if looks could kill, the guards know they would have already dropped dead.

“Lieutenant,” one of them nods briskly as the motorcycle comes to a stop and the visor on the helmet is aggressively opened to reveal its occupant, “y-your good to go.”

Simon flips the visor back down with a single flick from his hand and revs the engine on his bike to peel away from the booth like a rocket towards the setting sun, headed in the same direction you had just gone minutes before. Faster and faster he pushes the engine; thank fuck there’s only one way you can go and if he makes sure to speed, he’s confident that he’ll catch up to you quick enough.

And then what? Simon’s anger is still blinding and he hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he can’t just leave it like this and until you listen, he isn’t going to give up.

Your eyes are locked on the road, but it feels like you’re driving more by instinct rather than by sight as the only thing you can see right now is red. Simon’s harsh accusations swirl about in your head on repeat; not a good soundtrack to quiet your anger. This is not how you thought this day was going to end.

He had caught you headed back to your barracks and asked to speak. If you knew it was going to be an ambush for him to unload on you about something that was none of his business, you would have done everything to get out of letting him lead you inside his room. He didn’t even give you the chance to get a word in, to defend yourself, just kept spewing his heated thoughts about what he believed you were doing until finally you were able to get out.

If only he knew the truth… whatever, it didn’t matter now. You wouldn’t be kept on a short leash by someone who didn’t care.

You aren’t sure how many miles you’ve gone before you notice a motorcycle driving right behind you. They seem to be glued onto your bumper, keeping pace with you as you switch lanes, and when you make a sudden right and another directly after, they are still behind you and now you’re sure; you know that bike and its rider.

How the fuck did he get behind you so fast?

Simon flashes his lights at you before throwing on his blinker to indicate that he wants you to pull over, but you aren’t on base and don’t feel like following his orders right now. Let him chase after you for a little while more, that’s what he deserves. Who knows, maybe he’ll realize that this is a fucking stupid idea and he should really head back. Wishful thinking; you know him too well to even pretend that he’ll give up when he has his mind set on something.

A few more miles and again he hits his lights; he’s not going to stop following you until you give him what he wants. He knows he came at you too strong before, but he isn’t done with the conversation. He is compelled to put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand, he has to. One more time, he flashes his lights.

“Really, Simon? I don’t want to fucking do this,” you curse him in a mumble with a scoff. Looking into your rearview mirror, you throw up your hands in defeat to silently indicate you’re ready to get this over with, wherever he decides to take this. It’s almost dark now anyway; you can get this done and then immediately head down to the bar to grab a much needed drink.

Up ahead is the abandoned parking lot of an old grocery store that looks like it has been closed for some time. Simon speeds up to get ahead of you to act as a guide and you throw your blinker on and turn in. He leads you towards the back of the store and away from the street and the traffic; more privacy for you to ‘talk’.

Great, more yelling, you think as you put the car in park before coming to a full stop. You scramble out in a huff and slam the door shut so hard that the windows vibrate.

“What?” you say between gritted teeth, leaning up against your car as you wait for him to get off his bike; you’re gonna make him come to you.

He removes his helmet, setting it carefully on the handlebars before stalking over to where you stand. “I said I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore,” you continue on in the same heated tone, “so why are you following me? What the fuck do you want now?”

“That’s really how you’re gonna talk ta me?” he questions, matching your energy. “I’m still your fuckin’ lieutenant.”

“That’s how I talk to assholes so stick their fucking noses where they don’t belong and then get mad when they don’t like what they find,” you return, crossing your arms across your chest to hide how labored your breathing is from your anger. You don’t want him to know just how much he’s gotten under your skin, even though you know your face is probably giving it all away anyway.

He told himself to stay calm, but there is no helping the emotional reaction he has that causes him to immediately match your energy and the fight picks right back up as if it never stopped. “Oh, is that right?” he growls. “I’m tha asshole? And what the fuck does that make ya, princess?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” you press the matter. “I didn’t do anything; you’re the one that has the problem. I just don’t understand why you can’t let it go. Do you not have anything better to do than get in my personal life?”

Simon licks his lips behind his mask to keep him from losing the shred of composure he has left. “Better watch it, luv.”

You’re done with him, his attitude, and this conversation. “I will say it again, so maybe you’ll finally get it through your thick skull. What I do in my free time is my business. You have no right to confront me about anything.”

“I think I do,” he returns.

“Why? Because we hooked up a couple of times? That doesn’t give you the right to act like we’re a couple,” you say heatedly. “We agreed that it was we needed at the time to let off some steam, that the couple times it happened meant nothing. Now you’re acting like a fucking child just because I enjoy having company?”

Your blood is boiling now because he’s doing all this without having the facts. This supposed company you are entertaining isn’t even real, it is all a rumor started by a rejected private with nothing better to do, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He doesn’t need to know because it shouldn’t matter; you’re not together, never were, and he has no right to any knowledge about what you do behind closed doors.

This is the type of arrangement he wanted after all, no strings attached. His idea, not yours, so why the possessiveness all of a sudden? After all you had done to make sure your feelings on the matter never got out it only makes you more irate to feel like a caged animal; damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Because what you really want is standing right in front of you and you can’t have it.

“Ya couldn’t even tell me ya were screwin’ around?” he says, stepping up in intimidation. “Ya don’t think that makes it sound like ya knew it was a problem?”

His entitlement feels like an attack and you won’t stand for it. “You can’t keep me on a leash like this when you don’t even have a claim,” you bark, getting in his face. “You might be my lieutenant, but what I’m doing or not doing outside of military business isn’t for you to worry about. And once again, we aren’t together. Stop acting jealous.”

He stares you down, menacing glare locked to your eyes as his chest heaves up and down exasperatedly. “Neva said I was fuckin’ jealous,” he starts, but you promptly cut him off.

“Yeah, right,” the accusation spills out like acid, finger poking into the middle of his chest. “And the fact you can’t fucking drop it is because you’re concerned, right? Bullshit. But you know what? I don’t care. I promise you, this is the last we will ever speak about it. You hear me? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

You shove past Simon as he stands there silently fuming to walk off somewhere along the building, clearly hoping that he will turn back for the base. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stares daggers into the back of your head…because you actually guessed right. He is jealous and it is eating away at him.

Blinded by his overwhelming emotions, he moves without thinking about the repercussions of his actions. Taking fast steps, he catches up to you as you walk along by the brick wall of the store and takes you by surprise. He reaches out with his large, strong hand and wraps tightly around the back of your neck to pull you backward to him, turn you around, and pin you against the brick by your throat.

Simon blocks your body with the bulk of his, trapping you so you can’t get away again. His grip is firm, but not painful and you look up into his masked face as if trying to read his eyes.

“What are you doing?” you ask, the residual anger pumping through your veins so it’s still in your voice.

There is a pause, more silence, before he speaks. “Handlin’ something,” he says with a growl.

“You clearly can’t handle anything, Simon,” you comment with an agitated chuckle.

“Shut it,” he demands in a harsh bark. “Ya think ya know every fuckin’ thing, don’t ya?” He shakes his head, jaw visibly clenching even behind the mask. “Ya can’t even see what’s right in front ‘a your face.”

Your brow furrows; what the hell is he talking about? His remark catches you off-guard and you stand silently in confusion as you contemplate what the hell he’s trying to say, but he’s gone completely silent, just breathing heavy breaths into your face. Enough, he needs to just spit out so this can end.

“Since I’m so fucking stupid, why don’t you spell it out for me. Stop playing these fucking games with me, Simon.”

Fine, no more games. His skin tingles with the heat from the adrenaline flooding his limbs and all at once everything happens in a flash. Only inches remain between you and in that moment they suddenly feel as wide as the ocean; it makes him ache and the urge to close the distance overwhelms every sense. Reaching towards his face with his free hand his mask is wrenched above his lips before he pulls your head forward by your throat and leans in to catch your mouth with his. The kiss is so full of aggression that it knocks the air out of your lungs.

There is nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do, but hold on as he takes what he wants from your mouth. He steals kiss after frantic kiss as if he has been starved for them, not evening pausing to give you a second to come up for breath.

All that anger that had just been bubbling inside you is redirected and suddenly instead of wanting to push him away you want him as close as possible. Your fingers claw into his shoulders through his leather riding jacket as you try to pull him into you, but they are immediately ripped off as he grabs them and pins the wrists to the wall above your head. Between the breaks in your mouth’s connection, he gasps out the words he should have said back in his room.

“Ya need ta understand. Can’t just have ya a few fuckin’ times and tha’s it. Can’t get enough a ya. Was a goddamn fool not ta speak up sooner. Want ya for myself an’ I don’t share what’s mine. An’ you’re mine, luv,” he gasps into your parted lips, giving your neck a squeeze for emphasis. “Ya hear that? Mine.”

He nips at your bottom lip, sharp teeth cutting into the plump flesh to make you moan at the delicious harshness. God, your desperate sounds are like a drug; he can’t get enough and the more needy you become, the better they get. Pulling back just as you try to go in for more, he stares into your eyes, his gaze darkening within the confines of his mask still clinging to the top half of his face. “Can’t ‘ave anyone else tryin’ to get at what’s mine. Any prick that tries ta take ya away from me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

Admission finished Simon’s eyes flutter closed as he dives right back into your lips, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth, parting through your lips as he forces his way in until the muscle has filled you full. It plays against the roof of your mouth and over your tongue, tasting you, devouring all he can like a beast ravenous to take all that it can get.

All that pent up desire being released onto you.

His bulky muscles against your chest crush your body into the wall and you can barely breathe, but you would gladly suffocate if it meant your curves could stay molded into each other like this for longer. Then you feel it, that bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and the walls of your pussy involuntarily clench. Suddenly you need it inside you.

As if he has read your mind, Simon wrenches himself from your lips. “Unless ya want me ta fuck ya on the side ‘a this buildin’, get to tha car,” he growls, his voice husky. “Now.”

It only takes a few seconds before you’re both jostling into the back of your car and slamming the doors shut, Simon’s jacket discarded on the ground right outside the door. His massive size takes up most of the cramped interior of the vehicle, but still he manages to maneuver onto his knees over top of you as he lays your back down against the seat. With one hand he undoes your pants, clasp first and then zipper, and pulls them down just under the curve of your ass and forcefully rips them off your legs as he rips his shirt off over his head with the other. The mask is taken with it and all the clothes get tossed somewhere into the floor of the car as he hikes one of your legs up to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Need it,” he says, feverishly kissing down the length to your thigh. “Need ta be inside ya right this second.”

“Yes, Simon,” you whimper as he undoes his jeans and pulls out his cock. It bobs up and down with the beats of his heart and he moans at the sensitivity as he takes it into his hand.

“Ya said I didn’t ‘ave a claim, well I’m ‘ere to claim ya now. But I need ta say it, sweetheart,” he returns as his fingertips hook into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side before he angles himself against your pussy and starts slipping himself through your petals with agonizingly slow thrusts of his hips. “Say you’re mine.”

You swallow to coat the dryness in your throat. “I’m yours Simon,” you say, but the measured nature of his strokes don’t stop.

“Again.”

The tip of his cock prods against your clit and you whimper at how swollen it is and how much you need something to take the edge off. “I’m all yours Simon!” you whimper so pathetically as the throbbing intensifies the more he repeats the same.

His hand digs harder into your hip as he leans in closer to your face. “I. Said. Again.”

You close your eyes tight, clenching as you pant and gather the strength to reply with everything you have. “Simon, baby, please. I fucking need you so bad. I can’t fucking take it. I swear that I am only yours; there won’t ever be anyone else.”

The heat of his lips near yours makes you shiver. “Look who can’t handle things now,” he says with a smugness that makes goosebumps raise over your skin. “ Now, arch ya back a little more for me.” His command is direct and you follow without hesitation, presenting yourself to him like you are in heat, begging to be filled.

“Fuck sweetheart, jus’ tha thought of ya with anyone else gets me so god damned riled up,” he says with a grunt as he positions himself at your entrance, your panties nearly ripping still laced in his fingers. “No one can ‘ave ya like this ‘cept me. Understand?”

You give him a vigorous nod, praying that soon the agony will end. “No one.” Your repeated words are a plea.

Simon’s heart races at how you say it. “You’re neva’ gonna stray, are ya?”

“No,” you whine.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

With that he shoves in just the tip through the threshold, instantly feeling the stretch of your core by the girth of it, groaning through a chuckle as you mewl taking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust and snaps his hips to thrust all the way down to the base of his shaft. The wind gets knocked out of you, but again he doesn’t pause and the axle of the car creaks as his desperate strokes overwhelm everything from you to the vehicle with the force.

“Ya think anyone else can make ya feel like this?” he asks through gritted teeth as he pounds into you hard and rough over and over again in rhythm. “Some manky bastard gonna make ya moan like this?”

There’s no way you can answer him with how full your mouth is with moans, how numb your mind is as everything in you focuses on the sensation of his thrusts reaching deeper and deeper inside. It only gets worse when he decides that one leg on his shoulder isn’t enough; it needs its twin on the opposite one. From here you swear you can feel him in your stomach with how deep he penetrates.

“Ya think he would even know what ya like? How to play with your clit, how to suck on your tits till you’re vibratin’ and your toes curl?”

How the fuck did he remember all that? You’ve only been together a few times and yet it’s obvious that he’s paid so much attention to detail that he’s memorized everything of those intimate details that make you a mess. As if right on cue his hand slips down between your bodies and parts through your petals to massage the nub at the top of your pussy.

“Ya think I wouldn’t care ta know what ya like?” he asks, the gravel in his voice delicious and yet menacing as you throw your head back and release a loud moan. “How else am I gonna make sure ya belong ta me? I need ta fuckin’ ruin this sweet little pussy so no one else can compare. I wanna be the only fuckin’ thing in that pretty head ‘a yours.”

As if you’d ever have the strength after this to even think of another man that isn’t him. The fictional man that got you into this predicament didn’t even exist and yet somehow you still feel guilty about him. There is only Simon, your Simon, that you can’t get enough of; no one else can ever come close.

The lights in the parking lot kick on just as the last bit of daylight slips under the horizon and you can see now just how fogged up the windows are as Simon rips up your shirt and bra together, stuffing the clothing up around your neck and popping both breasts out of their cage before letting your legs slips from his shoulders to fall and wrap around his hips.

“Can’t forget about these beauties,” he growls before diving in face first and catching one with his mouth.

Hot lips latch on as he braces a hand against the steam-covered window to hold himself steady so that he can continue to pump in and out of your tight hole and play with your clit as his tongue teases the nipple until it’s stiff and you can feel the pleasurable sensation down between your thighs. The moans filling the car come faster and faster as the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach grows. Simon doesn’t even come up for air, just switches sides to play with the other nipple until it too is hard; he wants a matching set before you come and he is gonna get what he wants.

Your thighs squeeze down on his hips as that heat violently gathering in the pit of your stomach starts to come to a head and a devilish idea floods your thoughts. It won’t be long now and your orgasm will be coursing through you, but that’s not enough. If he wants to claim you, he is going to claim all of you…and fill you full.

“Don’t pull out,” you stammer out and he falters in his thrusts.

Simon quickly releases your breast from his mouth.“What did ya say?”

You lock your ankles together tightly behind his back so he can’t escape. “Don’t you dare pull out,” you repeat and he nearly comes right then and there just from how the request makes his heartbeat pound. “God, I’m so close, baby. Please, I need you to come in me.”

Fuck, what a request. How the hell could he possibly refuse? He made a declaration after all and he intends to keep it; he is going to ruin you and he is more than willing to breed you to do it. His hands move to your hips and he buries his fingers in the muscles.

“Then you’re gonna get what ya fuckin’ want, sweetheart,” he says as he strikes up into you with a newfound vigor that makes your body bounce. “You’re gonna take every last goddamn ounce.”

“Right there,” you moan, the pressure euphoric, “stay right there.”

He grunts. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel that fuckin’ clench.”

He struggles to repeat the same exact movements, his own release about to pop off at any second, but with a bit of effort his hard work pays off and that heat reaches its peak. The tension snaps harshly and tears through you until your body is jerking as you ride out wave after wave of ecstasy.

God, the way your walls are fluttering around him as you let go is heaven and he loses himself in the sensation. All that tight, wet, heat sends tingles through his cock and he can no longer remain sane.

“My pretty girl…” he murmurs, his thrusts slowly getting more sloppy… “mine…” he repeats, nearly there, preparing to make sure you take every ounce of his cum and coat your walls… “all fuckin’ mine.”

That’s it, he can’t take another thrust and with an open-mouthed moan he comes hard. Cum shoots up inside you as he milks himself with your body until he has nothing left to give and kneels there resting inside you. You watch the muscles along his abdomen contract and release as he slowly comes back down from that high.

Such a masterpiece of flesh.

Minutes pass until he feels like he can pull out and he spends that time peppering your lips with tender kisses. Finally he carefully removes your legs from around him and sets them down on either side of his thighs, holding them open so that he can lean back and watch his cum and your slick dribble out of your cunt onto the cushion beneath you. What a beautiful mess he’s made; he can’t stop staring at it as if he’s in a trance.

A visual sign that his claim is finally complete.

“Tha’s a sight that could do me in,” he breathes. “Ya did so good for me, sweetheart.”

He releases your panties so that they fall back into place and you can feel everything starting to gather in the crotch. You sit up and he pulls your face in for one last kiss; you’ve been here long enough that if you don’t get out of here soon it’s gonna draw unwanted attention.

“Now get your ass back ta base and make it quick,” he says as he pulls slowly from your lips, “I want ya in my room, in tha shower; ya got exactly 20 minutes so ya best not stop. I’m not done with ya just yet.”

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holybibly · 3 months ago

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The summer heat seems to be getting unbearable by the day. And there is nothing better than indulging in unholy thoughts during these times.

And here are your unholy thoughts for the day: Your roommate San fucks you in the shower when the tension between you two gets too hot for you to handle.

San was a great roommate—you might even say perfect—if it weren't for one thing: he was so damn sexy. The boy just smouldered with hotness, and on top of that, you had a hard time dealing with his intensity and straightforwardness.

You never thought you'd share an apartment with someone like Choi San; it was like you two were from different universes; he was a famous fighter in the underground arena, and you worked in a fantasy flower shop. You rarely saw him without cuts and bruises and wearing anything more than an inappropriately tight tank top and sweatpants that hung so low on his hips that you could easily see the tattoo on his Apollo belt. San was quite the homeboy too, though; he loved to spend time with you, watching films or having dinner together, which was pure torture for you.

San had absolutely no filter; he could easily comment on how he liked your panties when your skirt was riding up too high or how your nipples were hard from the cold in the house. So, you often blushed in his presence, and as embarrassed as you were to admit it, your pussy was always unseemly wet for him. You were literally dripping.

Things had only gotten worse since he'd started letting you help him with his cuts and bruises from fights. He literally couldn't take his eyes off you, looking at you as if he wanted to eat you alive or fuck you right then and there. San was on the verge of grabbing you and fucking your brains out, and you knew he might, if the four broken beds he'd replaced were any indication.

But lately he hadn't brought any girls home, and something about his presence had changed. It felt like he was really hunting you down, circling you like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

He became rougher with you, harsher—you would even say possessive—as if you were his. The tension between the two of you was like the thick air before a storm. You could feel how stifling and electric San's presence in your life had become.

And if it was possible, he became even more shameless. Words, actions, touches—the level of sexuality and vulgarity increased day by day. It got to the point that one evening, while you were cooking dinner, he pressed himself against you from behind, all sweaty and dirty from another workout, wearing only sweatpants, and rubbed his erection against your buttocks.

His hands gripped the counter on either side of you so hard that his knuckles were white, and he breathed into your neck like a dog in heat—wet, hot, and hoarse as he thrust his hips into you. You were so shocked by what was happening that you didn't even know how to react; you just stood there and let him rub against you.

After that incident, you avoided him like the plague, and he didn't like that at all. You still remember the time you stayed late at work and came home after midnight to find San sitting in the middle of your living room in total darkness, staring at you with his feline, predatory gaze.

San had you cornered that night, pinning you between the wall and his body, giving you no chance to escape. He was so damn mean, scolding you until one moment his hand was around your throat and his forehead was pressed against yours. You literally gasped as you felt his other hand slide between your thighs and touch your pussy. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and the last thing you saw was San's smug grin as the door to his bedroom closed.

His games with you continued for weeks, literally driving you mad and depriving you of sleep. Hot images of him fucking you into the mattress or bending you over and fucking you so hard you couldn't walk for days filled your mind. And San stimulated it even more, as he seemed to have decided to give up t-shirts and vests altogether, walking around the house half naked all the time, and it seemed that his underwear had also been thrown out, as you could always see the outline of his semi-hard cock under the soft fabric of his jogging bottoms.

And maybe it would have stayed that way for a while if you hadn't left the bathroom door unlocked while you were taking a shower. You didn't think you'd see San until tomorrow morning; he's had another fight tonight, and as you knew, that usually lasted until dawn, so you didn't even think about locking the door.

The hot water scalded your body, thick steam filled the cramped shower cubicle, fogging the glass, and you were so lost in it all that you didn't even hear the front door close. Your hands slid over your body, smearing the fluffy, fragrant foam of your shower gel until your fingers were on your clit, slowly rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You were so sexually frustrated by all of San's actions, and you really hadn't had sex for a while, so you just couldn't resist playing with yourself a little. If only you had noticed the dark figure behind the misty shower wall.

Just as you had inserted a finger into yourself, throwing your head back against the tiled wall and rolling your eyes in pleasure, the shower door swung open with a vengeance, revealing none other than Choi San. You didn't even have time to react because he was instantly beside you in the cramped, wet space of the shower with you. He hadn't even taken his clothes off, his crisp white t-shirt immediately clinging to his body, showing off every muscle of his perfect frame.

You gasped as his palm slapped the tile next to your head, his other hand tugging roughly at your arm, pulling your fingers out of your wet hole with a loud squelching sound. He slowly brought your slimy fingers to his mouth, staring into your eyes before he stuck out his tongue and licked up all your slime.

He moaned softly, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you, his tongue swirling around your fingers, carefully lapping up every drop of your juices.

"Mmm, you're sweet, just the way I like it." San whispered to you, letting go of your hand and grabbing your throat instead, pulling you into a hot, hungry kiss. He fucked your mouth with his tongue instead of kissing you and continued choking you. Your hands gripped his back, feeling all the tense muscles under his thin, wet t-shirt. You moaned into his lips as San emptied your mouth.

When he let you go, your knees buckled, but his arm around your waist held you in place.

"That's it, angel, I've got you, and I'm going to fuck you so good you'll never want to get off my cock again."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader #san x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #san smut #choi san smut #choi san x reader

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harryspet · 2 months ago

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well kept [4] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON/NONCON, corporal punishment, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: longest chapter yayyyy :):)

word count: 4.9k

In which Rafe's control pushes you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

well kept masterlist

Rafe Cameron could handle his liquor, you learned that quickly. After accompanying him to a few dinner parties and watching him down several shots of whiskey before finishing an entire pitcher of beer, you wondered how he maintained his physique. He never slurred his words or stumbled, he seemed entirely happier when he was drinking, a completely different person.

He’d forced you to drink a cocktail and that quickly made you feel wobbly. The nights were a blur of conversations and you were tethered to reality by the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your lower back. He never introduced you as his assistant to his rich friends. You were just Y/N. “She’s cute, yeah?” He would say to people. Usually your dress was way too short or your cleavage was spilling from your top. Unfortunately, you sipped your drink when you were nervous.

You were exhausted by the end of the night and a little tipsy though you hadn’t dared to drink nearly as much as he did.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” He’d said, hand on your waist as he guided you out of the restaurant. Sometimes it made you feel protected. Like Rafe could hurt you, sure, but at least no one else could.

“Should you be driving?” You’d mistakenly asked, words slipping out before you could stop them. He took it as a challenge to his manhood and the look on his face made you regret it.

“I’m fine,” He’d looked at you sharply before he commanded, “Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer and let him him help you into the passenger side of his truck. He kept his eyes focused on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, and you hoped he wasn’t angry, maybe just deep in thought.

When he pulled up to your apartment complex, you fumbled for the door handle, eager to escape the tension. But before you could step out, Rafe’s hand was on your arm.

“I’m coming up,” he stated firmly.

“It’s a weeknight,” you said, trying to find a reason that would convince him otherwise. “My roommates are probably asleep by now.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “I’ll be quiet,” a hint of his boozed up charm returned to his voice. Reluctantly, you led him upstairs.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find your roommates, Imani and Angel, still awake, standing in the kitchen with a bottle of wine between them. Their laughter filled the small apartment. Their expressions shifted to complete shock at the sight of Rafe behind you. You smiled, trying to give the impression that all was well, that it was completely normal to be returning to your apartment with your drunk, billionaire boss.

Imani, with her flawless olive complexion and neatly styled curls, scrutinized the scene with furrowed brows. Beside her, Angel stood tall and vibrant, her unruly tight curls escaping their single hair tie, her mouth agape in astonished silence as she stared at you. Both much more beautiful than you, a sad thought crossed your mind, and you worried for a short millisecond that Rafe would realize he’d made a mistake in picking you.

“Hey,” You did you best to sound casual, “Rafe, this is Imani and Angel. Imani, Angel, this is Rafe.”

“Your boss, Rafe?” Imani asked incredulousy, her arms crossing over her faded band tee. “I don’t understand-”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron,” Angel blurted out, practically bouncing on her bare feet, “Can I offer you a drink? We both had a shitty day so we whipped out the strawberry moscato.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. And thanks, tempting offer but I’m quite satisfied at the moment,” His voice was smooth and effortlessly disarming. He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you into him, and your eyes widened, “I’m just here to make sure Y/N gets a good night’s rest.”

Both Imani and Angel looked at you with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Imani’s eyes, in particular, were sharp and disapproving, clearly questioning how you had kept this from her. Her gaze was heavy with the unspoken question: How could you be involved with Rafe and not have told her?

“Make yourself at home,” Angel said, clearly more excited than angry, and Imani’s intense gaze snapped to her, “I’m about to make popcorn and we’re about to watch a movie if you guys-”

“Angel,” Imani whispered harshly, “Leave them alone.”

“I’m j-j-just gonna, uhm, goodnight, guys,” You took Rafe’s arm and led him away from the tension filled kitchen to the narrow hallway that led to your bedroom. You felt he weight of Imani’s disapproval lingering in the air.

Your small apartment that you shared with two other people was a stark contrast to the luxurious settings you’d been in over the last few weeks. As Rafe’s eyes wandered over your tiny room, the awkwardness of the situation continued to build.

“This is …cozy,” He said after you shut the door. He was already taking off his suit jacket and undoing his cuff links. Was Rafe Cameron really going to spend the night here with you? Maybe he was drunker than you thought. “So this is where you unwind after a long day of dealing with me?”

Was that humor you heard in his voice? Dealing with him. You more than dealt with Rafe Cameron. You practically let him walk you around on a leash.

“Do you feel bad for me yet?” You tried to joke but there was too much animosity in your tone.

He chuckled before starting to undo his belt, “I try not to feel bad for other people. Life’s easier that way. Sides’, this won’t be your life for much longer.”

As he stripped down to his underwear, he started to settle into your bed, the lines between your professional and personal worlds now blurrier than ever.

“I wasn’t expecting t-t-t-t … to have company tonight,” You said, gathering his pile of clothes from your carpet and doing your best to fold them and place them neatly on top of your dresser.

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” He winked as he folded his arms behind his head, and you had to avert your eyes from his statue-esque physique. Broad shoulders, thick arms and chest, and abs that acted like an arrow that pointed down to his … “Plus, I wanted to see where you lived.”

“Now you see I d-d-don’t have sss-space for all my new work outfits,” You started to undress now, realizing there was no way out of this long night except by sleeping. You kicked off your heels, placing them neatly at the bottom of your closet. You put an oversized t-shirt on and used it to cover your body as you slipped off your mini-dress.

“Yeah, I see that now. It’s like a shoebox in here,” You shot him an offended look and he smiled stupidly, “It’s cute.”

“You sss-say that word a lot,” You mumbled before finding a pair of fuzzy socks and taking a seat at the very edge of your bed, bending over to slip them on.

“C’mere,” he patted the spot next to him and you hesitated.

He wouldn’t, you thought, not while your roommates were on the other side of a paper thin wall. But he would, you remember, Rafe Cameron would do that. He already had the gall to walk into your apartment with his hand on your waist despite being the one who paid your salary. He would do it and you’d let him because you had no spine.

“Y/N?” You pinched your eyes shut for a brief moment before you inevitable crawled into the spot next to him. You’d never really laid next to him in bed and it wasn’t what you were expecting. Even on his side, laying down, his presence enveloped you. You felt small like you usually did. He easily pressed himself to you, impossibly strong arms pulling your fronts together.

“You hhh-have to be quiet,” You whispered.

“I’m not the loud one,” He chuckled, warm breath tickling your shoulder and making you shiver. He placed a kiss there, one arm wrapped around your back and pulling you closer while the other tickled over the skin on your bare thigh, “I could fuck you so slow, so gentle, and I’m sure you’d be screaming.”

“No,” You argued though you weren’t sure why.

“No? You think you could stay quiet?” A excruciatingly soft and wet kiss was placed on your collarbone.

Your breath hitched in your throat, “I’m sss-sserious, Rafe.”

“So informal,” He shook his head, the hand that was on your thigh started to peel up your shirt. To your surprise, Rafe ducked inside the fabric of your shirt, beginning to burrow his head into your breast, “My fucking favorite place on your cute, little body.”

He seemed to groan, something animalistic, placing kisses along your skin. His breath tickled your nipples and you tried to pull away. He flips you fully onto your back, pinning you with his weight, his mouth threatening to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You couldn’t take it, “Okay, okay, y-yess,” You rushed out, “I c-couldn’t stay quiet. You’re right.”

You look down to watch him pop his head out from under your shirt, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I-I admit it. Please.”

“Please stop? Please fuck you quietly?” Rafe teased you, “You’re not adding sir to the end of your sentences so it gets kinda hard to understand–”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” You pleaded with him through your eyes, “Please …fuck me quietly, Sir.”

“That’s better,” He pulled your shirt over your breasts before he completely devoured them.

The next time Rafe decided to have sex with you was two weeks later, right as he walked into his office. You should’ve known by the outfit he had chosen for you. The white blouse had an air of professionalism, but the plaid, pleated skirt barely reached mid-thigh, making you certain the entire elevator caught a glimpse of your underwear when you dropped your notebook that morning.

It felt like he’d been teasing you up until that point. You'd lost track of how many times he made you orgasm in front of him during those two weeks. He had an insatiable fascination with watching you pleasure yourself, wanting you completely vulnerable, often in compromising positions, with your eyes locked on his the moment it happened. Whether it was on top of his desk, against the office window, or bent over a coffee table, you were starting to grow comfortable with being uncomfortable.

He couldn’t resist touching you, making you grind against him, or rapidly moving his fingers in and out of you until you were shaking. However, he had managed up until that point to not actually fuck you. It was getting to the point you found yourself pouting at him from your desk as you watched him complete his daily meetings.

You didn’t have a chance to get out your usual spiel about his meetings for the day because his briefcase was already on the ground, and his arms were wrapped around your backside as he carried you over to his desk, “Take off your panties,” He commanded after setting you on his desk. He stepped back, fumbling with his belt and zipper, “Now, sweetheart. C’mon.” He said and you realized you clearly weren’t moving fast enough for him.

Your panties weren’t even around your knees before he was lifting up your legs and pulling them off the rest of the way. He parted your legs, immediately dipping his fingers into you, “You’re already wet,” It was just an observance. No smile or smirk or evidence that he was at all pleased with the revelation, “Desperate little girl. You been thinking about me, yeah?”

You stared up at his lips, pink and parted and imagined them on yours, his soft stubble tickling the skin of your mouth. Why wasn’t he kissing you? Everything with him was a ritual. You couldn’t get what you wanted until you felt utterly humiliated and vulnerable. He couldn’t get what he wanted until you had tears in your eyes. You nodded, “Yes.”

“Fucking say it,” He barked and you winced.

“I’ve b-b-been th-thhhinking about you,” You admitted although he already knew it. Your own well being seemed to rely on being obsessed with him. If you wanted any sexual satisfaction, he was the one who brought it. He was the entire reason you had a good income now. He was everything.

“You haven’t touched yourself though, not without my permission?”

You nodded, “Nnn-not without your permission.”

“Cause you need me,” He finally placed his lips on yours and you nodded against them.

“I nnn-need you,” You mewled between kisses as he pressed his crotch into yours. The two of you both tilted back towards his desk, “Please, Sir.”

You had consented, despite not being fully prepared. It didn’t feel like the first or second time. The first time had been overwhelming, your orgasms crashing over you like a storm, while the second time had been so gentle that the pleasure left you feeling like you were vibrating with ecstasy. You wanted him, undeniably, but nothing had prepared you for the intensity of him filling you completely. This was what you had desirel, feeling full, but now you were overwhelmed, as though he was consuming every part of you.

With his hands braced on either side of your head, he looked down at you, his gaze intense and focused. He moved inside you with a relentless, unyielding rhythm, driving into you with an insatiable need.

The room faded away around you. You couldn’t feel yourself breathing nor could you hear the sounds leaving your mind. You just stared back, your face a mix of anguish and pleasure, and accepted your fate. You didn’t fight your orgasm this time, your body moved instinctively, squeezing around him, your hips grinding up for more friction.

When he was close, he pulled out of you. Your energy was already gone, your orgasm having taken almost everything from you, but he moved your body effortlessly. He pulled you off the desk before placing you on your knees in front of you. Your legs folded easily, weakly, “Fuck,” He cursed, pantting, and you watched him take his cock in his own hand.

You reached out to take ahold of him but he pushed your hand away. His hands moved, determined, rhythmic, “Ask me to cum on your face.”

His breaths were heavy, desperate, and he clung to that control that had slipped away when he was inside you.

“Will y-you cum on my face, Sir?”

The question hung in the air, tension thickening, until he was finally gritting his teeth. He broke eye contact only as his orgasm ripped through him. The room filled with his moans and you did your best not overreact to that warm, sticky feeling that was now violating your senses.

“Good girl, look at you,” He said and you squeezed your eyes tightly as it began to drip onto your eyelid.

You breathed deeply, the intensity of the moment deciding to peak, and tears started to spill over. You became a crumpled pile of pleasure, shame and exhaustion. It seemed like the only way to release your emotions. Unexpectedly, you didn’t sit their alone. Rafe was the one to wipe your face with a tissue. He cooed, “Hey, you did good, kid. You’re a good girl,” He whispered sweet nothings to you.

“C-C-Can you hold me?” You asked, voice trembling, so embarrassed that you didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to see how he was feeling or know what he was thinking. It was all too much.

Without a word, Rafe lifted you effortlessly into his arms. His strength was both reassuring and overwhelming as he carried you behind his desk, his body warm and solid against yours. He settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap with a sense of protective intimacy. For the rest of the morning, he worked with you nestled against him, your face buried into his neck.

Rafe Cameron’s Appalachian cabin was one of the twelve properties he owned personally. You got to it by passing though a quaint and charming town. Despite the fact that he normally spends only three weekends of the entire year there, all the locals know him.

The four of you; Rafe, you, Eleanor and Topper, made your way down main street which was lined with old-fashioned storefronts. In the middle was the town square which featured an old, courthouse building and a gazebo where you see a few locals gathering. The four of you enjoy a diner meal at the Blue Ridge Breakfast Bar before you walk through a few shops. It almost feels .. normal. You were surprised the three of them were even willing to walk through the antique buildings, let alone find the shops interesting.

You didn’t know people like them even ate at diners or were interested in antique trinkets that cost less then five dollars. It was surreal. In another life, the three of them were normal people, and maybe you and Rafe could have been a normal couple.

You often found yourself glancing at Rafe, marveling at the contrast between his usual, impeccably dressed self and the more relaxed look he wore today. Seeing him in jeans and a baseball cap, casually strolling through the town, was almost disorienting.

It was a similar feeling you got when Rafe suddenly flipped a switch after being cruel to you and decided to comfort you.

Despite the fact that he was technically on vacation, you were still his personal assistant, and yet he hadn’t asked you about anything related to assisting him since he picked you up that morning from your apartment.

You wouldn’t say it to him, partially out of fear that he would deny it, but it felt like he wanted you appear like a couple. Topper and Eleanor undoubtedly new the truth so why was he acting like this? You never held hands like them but his hand would find your knee when you sat next to each other and sometimes he wrapped around your shoulder when you were standing close by.

Sometimes, your body didn’t want to relax around him, and the intimacy brought you anxiety. Soemtimes he was easier to read when he was drunk, or inside of you, or yelling at you. You weren’t familiar with this version of him. But you were stuck with the three of them for the next three nights.

Surrounded by towering pines and the soft hush of nature, the cabin was more of fortress nestled into the natural beauty of the mountains. You followed Rafe across a gravel path towards a large front porch which was framed by sturdy wooden columns. You stared up at large windows that endorned the front of the house, undoubtedly letting in a large amount of natural light, as you walked through the entrance.

The house was a complete reflection of his taste and the extent of his success. As Topper and Rafe left for the bedroom to drop off luggage, you and Eleanor made your way to the kitchen with the bags of groceries you’d acquired from the local mini-mart. Surprisingly, this place didn’t come with it’s own personal chef.

Like with everything else, you followed Eleanor’s lead when it came to cooking that weekend. She encouraged you to get ingredients for a dish you knew you could make on your own and you chose spaghetti despite the idea of feeding billionaire Rafe Cameron your homemade spaghetti making you feel stupid.

“I’ll show you how to arrange a charcuterie board,” She said as she poured you a glass of red wine, “You’ll be the perfect housewife when I’m done with you, Y/N.”

The afternoon actually ended up being fun. You and Eleanor laughed in the kitchen while Rafe and Topper watched a football game in the living room, nursing cans of beer. The wine relaxed you and soon you were giggling over unevenly cut salami and spilled strawberry jam. The two of you ended up eating half the ingredients meant for the board, much to Eleanor’s amusement.

Eleanor loosened up even more, even getting comfortable enough to tell you a story about Topper, “You know, one time back when we lived in Kildare, he tried to make me pancakes for my birthday. From the box, not even from scratch, and he burnt every one. Literally every single one. The kitchen looked like it had been through a tornado. I don’t know how he even managed that.”

You covered your mouth, shaking your head, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“He went through the whole box! He had to serve them to me like that. No amount of syrup and whip cream can mask that taste.”

“I didn’t realize we were telling personal stories,” You whipped your head around as you heard Topper’s voice. Your heart raced for a second, worried, but he made his way around the kitchen island and hugged his wife from behind. Rafe was following behind him but made his way over to you. You composed yourself as much as possible.

“I was telling Y/N about how good of a cook you are,” She joked and he playfully tickled her sides and soon they were laughing together.

The two male’s casual demeanors seemed to complement the laid-back energy of the afternoon. You watched Rafe’s lips pull into a smirk as he surveyed your work and your empty glass of wine.

Dinner rolled around a few hours later, a relaxed atmosphere continuing to permeate through the air. You’d set the table in the dining room, the ten-person table sat next to a large window overlooking an expansive lake, and aided Eleanor in preparing her beef stir-fry.

“It’s really good, Eleanor,” You complimented her once all of you were seated and digging into your food.

“Thanks,” She grinned, “You’re a good sous chef, Y/N.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “Not better than me though, right, honey?” Topper asked.

“Of course not, honey,” Eleanor winked at him.

Small talk ensued and despite the fact that Eleanor warned the two men that business talk would bring down the room, they spent a good ten minutes talking about something called “tax increment financing”.

Eleanor interrupted after it became too much, “So, Rafe, are you going to do any more renovations on this place?”

“After they finish the pool next summer, no. Did the home theatre, renovated the master bathroom and expanded the garage this summer. It’ll probably be move-in-ready next year.”

“Oh, are you selling it?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Rafe’s gaze flickered away, an unusual reaction for him. He usually had a quip or a witty retort ready. “No, I plan to spend more time away from Charlotte after New Year's. I’ll be living here at least five days a week.”

“Oh,” You nodded though you really hadn’t comprehended his words. You looked back down at your plate, and as you took another bite, his words started to set in. It was an inappropriate time to delve further but your mind started to race. He’d never mentioned that he wouldn’t even be living in Charlotte after the next few months. Shouldn’t he have mentioned this by now? “I-I thought …”

“We can talk about it later, Y/N,” Rafe dismissed you, bringing a piece of meat to his mouth, and looking away.

He spoke as if you were annoying him now. Eleanor opened her mouth again to change the subject but you interrupted her, “I-I’m sorry … w-will you still need me then? If I’m in Chhhh-Charlotte and you’re here.”

“Did you hear me the first time, Y/N?” Rafe’s jaw set as he dropped his silverware. The clang made you jump but your mind was spinning. It was a simple question, wasn’t it? Was he stringing you a long? Would you be out of a job next year?

“I-It p-p-p-pertains to me,” You continued, your heart racing as Rafe grimaced, “Can’t y-you just say if I’ll have a job or not?”

“You’ll have a job,” Getting confirmation made your shoulders drop from relief. It was almost worth whatever seed of rage you’d planted within him, “But you’ll relocate with me.”

“What?” You pushed your plate away, leaning back in your chair.

Topper and Eleanor exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating tension. It felt like you’d already poked the bull, you felt like you had to see it through, “I’ll need you to move here. Won’t make sense to juggle from two places.”

“Mmm-my life is i-in Chhh-Charlotte. You n-never said this before,” You tried to keep your voice steady, to express your genuine disappointment despite your frustration.

“It’s not my fault you haven’t caught on, Y/N,” He spoke sharply, “You know how this works. I manage my properties and business. My plans change. You’re a part of that. You’re making it an issue when it’s not. You’re acting like you have a million options.”

“I-I know I don’t–”

You looked at Topper and then Eleanor. Now, the two of them were looking anywhere but the two of you.

“Then act like it.”

“Rafe–”

“I fucking own you, you don’t even understand that.”

“Rafe!”

“One more word, Y/N, and I swear to God.”

Your lips parted and your voice started to tremble as you felt the sting of his words, “This is so … shitty,” Perhaps it was the distance, the wood table that sat between you that made you feel so bold.

Rafe’s anger erupted, his face reddening as he slammed his hands on the table. “Boo-fucking-hoo, sweetheart! I’ve given you everything, the clothes on your back, keeping the lights on in your crappy apartment, and you’re still ungrateful?”

Your frustration reached its breaking point. “Fuck you, Rafe!” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t want it anymore!”

You pushed your chair back abruptly, no goal in mind for where you’d stomp off to but you felt your blood boiling. Was his entire goal to completely ruin your life?

“Y/N!” He called after you and you turned your head to realize how close he was on your tail. Adrenaline surged through you, the thought that you might never have control of your life left you close to completely spiraling. Determined to get away, you picked up your pace, practically running through the million-dollar home, over shiny waxed floors, moonlight shining through tall windows.

He barked your name again and before you could reach the front door, his hand shot out and seized your upper arm. You screamed, his fingers squeezing your flesh so hard that you thought your skin might break. Swinging your body around, your feet lifted off the ground as he through you over his strong shoulder.

Kicking, struggling, screaming and crying, Rafe carried you up a grand staircase, “Please,” You were begging but adrenaline was pumping though him too, making him moved with his own determination. He kicked open door and your head whipped as he stepped inside, slamming it closed. You couldn’t focus on any detail in the room but as he through you onto an expansive bed, you assumed it was the master bedroom. For a moment, you played a game of cat and mouse. You gained your balance, and tried to crawl off the bed. Every direction you went, he moved faster, until you were sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed.

“You need to understand your place,” You watched as he started to loose the brown belt looped into his blue jeans.

You shook your head frantically, “I don’t w-want this.”

“It will be easier if you just apologize,” Rafe let out a breath of air, a weary sigh, his face frustrated, “I promise, I’ll make it easier for you.”

“If I-I …w-will you use the belt?”

“I have to use the belt, sweetheart, you’ve been so bad. Tell you what, if you apologize, I won’t tie you down to the bed. How’s that sound?”

The offer was as chilling as it was manipulative. You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to apologize.

The process of what followed was both brutal and dehumanizing. You were left feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body laid bare and handcuffed to one of the posts of the canopy bed. The sting of the belt on your skin was relentless, each strike leaving a deep, aching mark that quickly turned to a disturbing shade of purple. Your apologies came out in frantic, broken pleas, but they seemed to come too late.

You even managed to ask him to hold you but he didn’t grant your wish that time. He left you to go back downstairs. You slid down to your knees when you couldn’t stand any longer, falling asleep in that position, head resting at a strange angle against the mattress.

When you next awoke, the light of morning was gently filtering through the curtains. Rafe’s arms were wrapped around you, his steady breathing and soft snoring a stark contrast to the harshness of the previous night. His nose pressed into your hair, a reminder of his physical presence.

You cried softly against him, the tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to him. The sounds were muffled against his chest as you hugged him tighter.

hope you enjoyed!!

#rafe cameron #well kept #dark fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fic #rafe obx #topper thornton #dark!rafe cameron

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natswife-marvelicious · 1 month ago

Text

Shattered Edges

Plot: After a mission went south, you come home and try to hide your injuries from Natasha. Your past has taught you to cope with them on your own instead of asking for help. However, your blood loss has made you forget that Natasha is a trained spy.

Warnings: blood, injury, trauma, angst

Word count: 3,3k

Masterlist

Y/n stumbled through the corridors of Avengers tower, each step an excruciating effort. The mission had been a disaster. One of those kinds of disasters where things went wrong before they even had a chance to go right. But it wasn’t the mission that weighed on her. It was the pain that radiated from the deep gash along her side, the broken rib that she could feel grinding against her insides with every breath, and the exhaustion that clung to her limbs like lead.

Her training had kicked in the second she realized she was hurt, long before the others had even noticed. Hydra had conditioned her well, to conceal pain, to suppress vulnerability. In her world, weakness meant death, and there had never been room for mercy, let alone care.

The familiar, sterile walls of the Tower blurred as she made her way down the hall, her vision swimming slightly. But she kept her pace steady, determined. Natasha couldn’t see her like this. No one could. The others were still debriefing, but she had slipped away, not trusting herself to stay upright long enough to make it through the meeting. She told herself she just needed to clean up. Get it under control. She would be fine. She was always fine.

The room she shared with Natasha was just ahead, and the door was slightly ajar, light spilling out into the darkened hallway. Y/n felt a small, sharp spike of panic as she saw the light, Natasha was already home. She had hoped to get back before her, patch herself up, and brush it all off as nothing. Now, the plan was ruined.

Her heart raced, and she tried to steady her breathing, ignoring the burning pain that flared with each inhale. Maybe Natasha hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe she was still in the bathroom or the kitchen. If she could just make it to the bed without collapsing, maybe she could still hide it.

But as she reached for the door, her vision blurred, the edges of her sight darkening. The pain hit her harder, a fresh wave that nearly knocked her off her feet. She gripped the doorframe, her knuckles white, and for a moment, she thought she might pass out. She couldn't pass out here, not where Natasha would find her.

Get it together, she thought, clenching her jaw. You’ve been through worse.

With a shaky breath, y/n slipped into the room, careful not to make a sound. She leaned against the wall for support, every nerve in her body screaming in protest. The door closed softly behind her, the faint click somehow deafening in the quiet of the room. Her pulse thrummed loudly in her ears, and she could feel the blood pooling beneath her suit, hot and sticky as it soaked through her side.

She moved toward the bathroom, her only thought to clean up, to hide the evidence. But before she made it halfway across the room, her knees buckled. She gasped, catching herself on the edge of the bed just before she fell completely. Pain shot through her side, so intense it brought tears to her eyes. She bit her lip hard, willing herself not to cry out.

She collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, pressing her back against the mattress, trying to calm the panic that clawed at her chest. She was slipping, and she knew it. The blood loss was more than she had anticipated. Her vision swam, the edges of the room blurring and twisting in ways that made her feel sick. But she couldn't let it show. She couldn't let Natasha see her like this.

Natasha had always been the strong one, the steady one. Y/n had seen the way Natasha handled herself in battle, the way she carried herself through life with an unshakable sense of control. She had never wanted to be a burden to her. Especially not now, when Natasha had so much else to deal with. Y/n didn’t want to be one more thing she had to worry about. She had to hold it together, had to clean herself up before Natasha noticed.

But the door creaked open. "Y/n?"

Natasha’s voice was soft but tinged with concern. The sound of her name on Natasha’s lips made y/n's heart clench. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping against hope that Natasha wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t notice the blood or the way she was barely holding herself together.

She forced herself to answer, her voice a weak imitation of calm. “I’m here.” She pressed her hand harder against her side, trying to staunch the bleeding, trying to hide the pain in her voice. She prayed Natasha wouldn’t come closer, wouldn’t see her like this.

But Natasha’s eyes were sharp, always sharp, and y/n could feel her gaze linger on her too long. There was no escaping it. Natasha was already at her side before y/n could blink, crouching down in front of her.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” Natasha asked, her tone too careful, too controlled. Her green eyes locked onto y/n, scanning her with that intensity she usually reserved for battlefields.

“I’m just… tired,” y/n replied, trying to shrug it off. She shifted, but the movement sent a white-hot pain lancing through her side. She stifled a groan, but the strain didn’t go unnoticed.

Natasha’s hand shot out, gently but firmly resting on y/n's shoulder, keeping her in place. Her brow furrowed as she looked closer, taking in the torn suit, the blood, the way Y/n was holding herself. Her expression shifted from concern to something darker, a quiet fury burning beneath the surface.

“What happened?” Natasha’s voice was low, but there was a sharpness to it now, an edge that cut through the fog in y/n's brain.

“I’m fine,” y/n lied, her breath hitching as the pain flared again. She couldn’t meet Natasha’s eyes, couldn’t let her see how much she was struggling. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Natasha snapped, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger. Her eyes dropped to y/n's hand, the one pressed against her side, and her breath hitched when she saw the blood seeping through y/n’s fingers. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a scratch,” y/n muttered, trying to brush it off, but the words sounded hollow, even to her own ears. Her vision swam again, and she had to blink hard to keep from blacking out.

“Don’t lie to me,” Natasha’s voice was raw now, the calm veneer slipping away as fear bled into her words. She knelt closer, her hand hovering near y/n’s side as if she wanted to touch but didn’t know where to start. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/n clenched her teeth, her chest tight with guilt and panic. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want Natasha to see her like this, so weak, so broken. She was supposed to be stronger than this.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” y/n whispered, the words barely audible as they slipped past her lips. Her voice cracked, and she hated how small she sounded.

Natasha’s expression softened, but the fear in her eyes didn’t fade. “You think this doesn’t worry me?” she asked, her voice quieter now but no less intense. She gently reached for y/n’s hand, pulling it away from her side to get a better look at the wound. Y/n flinched, biting back a cry of pain as Natasha’s fingers brushed against the torn fabric of her suit.

“You’re bleeding, y/n,” Natasha said, her voice tight with barely controlled emotion. “This is more than a scratch. You should’ve come to me. Why didn’t you come to me?"

Y/n felt her throat close up, the weight of Hydra’s teachings pressing down on her like a lead blanket. She had been trained to handle pain, to endure it, to push through it without complaint. Asking for help had always been a sign of weakness, something to be punished. Even now, after all these years, those lessons were hard to shake.

“I… I didn’t want to…” y/b’s voice faltered. She didn’t want to say the words, didn’t want to admit how deeply ingrained that fear still was. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Natasha’s eyes widened, her face contorting with shock and hurt. “A burden?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what you think you are to me?”

Y/n couldn’t answer. She couldn’t bring herself to look Natasha in the eye, not when she could feel the weight of her disappointment and pain pressing down on her.

“You’re not a burden,” Natasha said, her voice fierce but soft. She cupped y/n’s cheek gently, tilting her head up so their eyes met. The intensity in Natasha’s gaze was enough to make y/n’s heart stutter. “You never have been, and you never will be. Do you understand me?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat tight as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. She nodded slightly, her chest aching from more than just the physical pain.

Natasha exhaled slowly, her thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped free. “I don’t care what Hydra taught you,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “You’re not with them anymore. You’re with me. And I love you. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Y/n's defenses crumbled, the walls she had built around herself shattering under Natasha’s words. She had spent so long trying to protect herself, trying to be strong on her own, that the thought of letting someone else in, letting Natasha see the broken pieces, terrified her. But there, under Natasha’s gaze, the fear loosened its grip, and all the exhaustion, the pain, and the fear she had been holding back poured out.

“I don’t know how,” y/n whispered, her voice breaking as the tears she had fought so hard to hold back finally spilled over. She hated how weak she sounded, hated that she couldn’t even hide her trembling anymore. “I don’t know how to ask for help.”

Natasha’s expression softened, the anger melting away as she pulled y/n closer, wrapping her arms around her carefully, as if afraid y/n might break. Her embrace was warm and strong, grounding in a way y/n hadn’t realized she needed.

“You don’t have to know how,” Natasha whispered against her hair, holding her just a little tighter. “You just need to let me be here for you.”

Y/n exhaled shakily, her body sagging against Natasha’s as the adrenaline that had kept her upright finally began to wear off. She let herself lean into Natasha’s warmth, let herself be held, even though every instinct screamed at her to pull away, to run, to hide her weakness. But here, in Natasha’s arms, it didn’t feel like weakness anymore. It felt like safety.

“I’ve got you,” Natasha murmured, her voice soft but firm. “Let me take care of you.”

Y/n nodded, her throat too tight to form words. She closed her eyes, her head resting against Natasha’s shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself let go. She didn’t have to be strong, didn’t have to pretend everything was fine. Not with Natasha. Not here.

Natasha pulled back just enough to look at Y/N, her hands gentle as she brushed y/n's hair away from her face. “We need to get you cleaned up,” she said, her voice laced with worry. “I don’t like how much blood you’ve lost.”

Y/n grimaced, the pain in her side flaring up again as Natasha’s hand moved over the wound. She had been trying to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it felt, but now, under Natasha’s watchful gaze, there was no hiding the truth.

“Can you stand?” Natasha asked, her tone gentle but commanding. She wasn’t asking out of weakness, she needed to assess how bad it really was.

“I… think so,” y/n whispered, though she wasn’t entirely sure. The room still spun a little, and the pain was making it hard to focus, but she nodded anyway.

Natasha moved with the efficiency of someone who had been in combat too many times to count, carefully slipping her arm around y/n’s waist, avoiding the injured side. “Lean on me,” Natasha said, her voice firm but tender. “I’ve got you.”

Y/n did as she was told, her body sagging against Natasha’s as they slowly stood. She bit down hard on her lip as the movement pulled at the gash in her side, the pain nearly unbearable now that the adrenaline had worn off. But Natasha didn’t let her falter. She kept her steady, her arm strong around y/n as she guided her toward the bathroom.

Once inside, Natasha sat y/n down on the closed toilet seat, kneeling in front of her to assess the damage. Her fingers were gentle but methodical as she peeled back the torn fabric of y/n’s suit, revealing the deep wound beneath. Y/n winced as the cool air hit her skin, her breath hitching as Natasha’s eyes darkened with concern.

“You should have told me sooner,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than to y/n, as she reached for the first-aid kit they always kept nearby. She worked quickly, cleaning the wound with steady hands, her touch careful but efficient.

Y/n watched her in silence, too tired to protest, too tired to do anything but sit there and let Natasha take over. There was something comforting in the way Natasha moved, so sure of herself, so in control. Y/n felt a flicker of shame that she couldn’t handle this on her own, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming relief that she didn’t have to.

As Natasha cleaned and bandaged the wound, y/n closed her eyes, the exhaustion weighing down on her like a heavy blanket. She let herself relax, her head leaning against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Her body ached, every inch of her screaming for rest, but the pain was dulled by the warmth of Natasha’s presence.

After what felt like an eternity, Natasha finished bandaging her up and gently stood, her eyes still scanning y/n for any signs of further injury. “We need to get you into bed,” Natasha said softly, her voice now thick with concern.

Y/n nodded weakly, too drained to argue. She didn’t even care about hiding her weakness anymore. Not from Natasha. Natasha had seen everything now, and she hadn’t turned away. She hadn’t recoiled in disgust or frustration like y/n had always feared. Instead, she had stayed, strong and steady, like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm.

Natasha helped her stand again, and they slowly made their way back to the bed. Y/n barely registered the movement as Natasha gently guided her under the covers, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving y/n as she tucked the blanket around her.

“Are you comfortable?” Natasha asked, her voice soft as she brushed a stray strand of hair away from y/n's face.

Y/n nodded, though in truth, her entire body hurt. But the pain didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with Natasha sitting beside her, her hand resting lightly on y/n’s arm, grounding her.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Y/n could feel the weight of Natasha’s gaze, but it wasn’t judgmental. It was something softer, something that made y/n’s chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the physical pain.

Natasha broke the silence first. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “Why did you try to hide it from me?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat tight. She wasn’t sure how to explain it, how to put into words the years of conditioning, the fear of being seen as weak. Hydra had drilled into her that asking for help was dangerous, that it was something to be punished. Even after all this time, those lessons were still hard to shake.

“I didn’t want to be… a burden,” y/n admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, and she reached out, gently cupping y/n’s cheek in her hand. “You’re not weak,” she said firmly, her thumb brushing lightly across y/n’s skin. “And you’re not a burden. You never have been.”

Y/n’s chest tightened, the guilt and fear twisting inside her. “I just… I didn’t know how to ask for help.”

“You don’t have to ask,” Natasha whispered, her voice fierce but tender. “I’m always here for you. Whether you ask or not.”

Y/n felt her heart swell, the weight of Natasha’s words settling over her like a warm blanket. She had spent so long trying to protect herself, trying to be strong, that she had forgotten what it felt like to let someone else carry some of that weight. To let someone else be there for her.

“I’m sorry,” y/n whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to worry you.”

Natasha shook her head, her eyes filled with something y/n couldn’t quite name. “I’ll always worry about you, y/n. That’s what love is. But I need you to let me in. I need you to let me help you.”

Y/n blinked, her vision blurring with tears again. She hadn’t expected Natasha’s words to hit her so hard, but they did. They cut through all the fear, all the doubt, and left her feeling raw and vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

“I’ll try,” y/n whispered, her voice shaky but sincere. “I’ll try to let you in.”

Natasha smiled softly, her hand still gently cupping y/n’s cheek. “That’s all I ask.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, the silence between them now warm and comforting. Y/n let herself relax, let herself sink into the warmth of the moment, into the safety of Natasha’s presence. She didn’t have to be strong right now. She didn’t have to pretend.

Natasha leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to y/n’s forehead, her lips lingering for just a moment longer than usual. “Get some rest,” she whispered as she pulled back. “I’m right here.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes already drooping with exhaustion. She felt Natasha’s hand slip into hers, the warmth of her touch grounding her even as she began to drift off to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, y/n didn’t feel like she had to carry everything on her own. She didn’t feel like she had to be strong all the time. She had Natasha, and that was enough.

As she slipped into sleep, her hand still held in Natasha’s, y/n felt a sense of peace settle over her. The pain was still there, and the wounds would take time to heal, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she had to face it alone. She wasn’t just the soldier, the weapon, the survivor anymore. With Natasha by her side, she was allowed to be something more, something softer, something real.

Natasha stayed beside her, watching y/n's breathing even out as she drifted deeper into sleep. Her thumb gently stroked the back of y/n’s hand, a quiet reminder that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

For a long while, Natasha just sat there, her heart heavy with a mix of love and worry. She had seen y/n fight, had watched her take on impossible odds without hesitation, but this... this was different. This vulnerability, this pain she tried so hard to hide, it cut deeper than any mission ever could.

"I’ll keep you safe," Natasha whispered softly, though she knew y/n was already asleep. "No matter what."

And as y/n slept, a small smile tugged at her lips, as if some part of her had heard. Natasha leaned down, pressing one last kiss to her forehead, before settling beside her. She would be there when y/n woke up, just as she promised. Always there, through the pain, the fear, and the healing.

Together, they would face whatever came next, but for now, y/n slept soundly, wrapped in the knowledge that she was loved and no longer had to carry her burdens alone.

Another fanfic I really like :) I love these kinda angsty oneshots with happy endings.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff one shots #actress #oneshot #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #angsty #natasha romanoff angst #angst with a happy ending #natasha angst

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notanactressyayy · 4 months ago

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . Natasha Romanoff x reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . in which she finally feels heard, seen.

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . angst, emotional breakdown (panic attack), swearing, mentions of scars (sh), mentions of suicidal ideologies. Nat being honest and open about her feelings for once. hurt/comfort.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. rainy days, match sad stories. venting.

divider credits: @saradika-graphics ༉‧₊˚.

the heaviness of the afternoon air settled over Natasha — weighting down what was already heavy. her mind, her body.. everything felt like a weight, a weight she carried since she was born, or even before her soul was incarnated in her body. she felt— no, she knew that she was born in bad news, cursed, and there was no way of getting out of this. it's funny, those were the exact same thoughts she had ever since she was a child— 10, 11, maybe? and in that age, crossed her mind that probably when she grew up, those ideas would vanish and she would be free to have a normal life.

but that certainly didn't happen. and now, she found herself trapped. trapped in web that the more she struggled, more stuck she got, and that was a routine that repeated over and over and over — optimistic, optimistic delusional thoughts that came to battle with the bad ones, telling her that things would someday be okay, and the real, coherent ones, that crushed all the hope, the little sparkle of hope she had within her, making her mind a complete and total mess. chaos behind chaos. sleepless nights, restless days.

god, how good would it be if at least, her body wasn't enchanted. how perfect would it be, to throw herself down a building and don't feel anymore, instead of having just a few scratches here and there. the blade helped, even with the acknowledge that a normal person would feel 10 times more than she did. because the pain was still little, when comparing to everything this woman already endured. the red lines on her arms and thighs were just a reminder of the red on her ledge, and that it was now impossible to wipe away.

in moments like those ones, her brain desperately searched for any solution, any thought to refute her current state — it was the human instinct to survive. (yeah, she's human). her eyes squeeze tight, feet stumbling forward and hands gripping tightly the trailer's window rail, knuckles turning white.

inhale, exhale. inhale— no, let's stick to panting.

her mind would drift back to the little girls who she shared her life with in the red room, remembering each of their personalities, what each one of them would do in a situation like this. ironically, for Natasha, they deserved to be listened and helped. but herself? nah. but in the deep end, she didn't know if they were still breathing, still in this world. what was the point..?

"come on..." she mutters, hissing loudly as her legs start trembling, knees ready to give up. "stop, stop, stop, stop..."

her heart never felt so filled with anguish and pain like right now — yes it did, but it was always like that: whenever that happened, the past experiences felt like they never existed — and the now felt like too much to handle. her ears buzzed, the sounds of the wind blowing across the tree leaves around her went down to volume zero — the hair on her legs and arms went up in a deep shiver, and eyes went wide — realization.

the same fucking realization as always. nobody listens, nobody cares. no one will ever know her true story. no one will ever fix her. she won't be remembered. her life's a waste— why was she even born, when everything that happened was disgrace after disgrace. that's when the thread snaps, and her body reacts before her mind can follow.

her throat closes, as if suffocating — body falling backwards, hitting the floor with full force. her fingers run through her hair and tug on the strands, pulling them strongly, even breaking a few of the auburn locks. tears of desperation threatens to fall down her cheeks, but she doesn't really realize that yet. she's just so out of air, that's impossible to control any other action.

"why won't that fucking—" Natasha manages between gasps. she groans, grabbing on the skin of her thighs and squeezing them harshly, creating moon-shaped little marks, enough to draw blood. "won't it— stop!"

then, she sobs. wait, but.. why did it felt like.. relief? perhaps because now, she was in your arms.

a foreign, strange sensation of warmth, warmth of another human being, enveloped her. she didn't recognize who it was, nor did she care. with pure instinct, her arms wrapped around the person's midsection, clinging for dear life. and now, with the sense of security, she was able to cry freely. she cried silently, something you didn't like. her chest heaved with emotion, but you wished she was louder. she was taught that widows didn't feel pain, wether it was physical or emotional. that's why her small cries sounded as painful and miserable as loud ones. you, sitting on the floor with her, scooped her weeping frame into your arms and held her — her side against your chest, head tucked in the crook of your neck.

sadly, it wasn't the first time, and you knew it wouldn't be the last. you were always in the trailer with her when she had breakdowns like this one. and that was what broke you the most — her brain subconsciously would tell her she was alone, and she didn't know how to deal with intense feelings like those: thus, she didn't know how to ask for help, how to come to you so you both could prevent those mental draining episodes.

when you first met Natasha, the first thing she asked you was to forget that she was a deadly spy, an avenger, or whatever the hell else people knew her as. at least for a day, so you could see where things would go. this fact only, meant that since the beginning, she had a feeling about you.. one she couldn't quite put a finger on, but which made her want to be herself, with no masks or titles around you.

it was common sense everything she went through. but only you knew about her true point of view. when her own self felt like an outside observer regarding to her own life, you were always there to remind her of who she was.

"you're safe... you're safe, i am safe.. we're both safe.." you whisper, running your hand up and down her shivery arm, putting the cold away. "okay, Nat? you are safe. i am right here, ready to fight whatever evil that befalls you.''

"i don't know.. i-i just.. i'm exhausted... i'm s-so tired.." she manages between small cries, eyes pleadingly looking up into yours. her hand reaches out and intertwine her fingers with your own, grasping on every sense she had of your presence — because she knew it could fade again, that she could fall in the loop again. and it was torturous. "i never.. no one ever listened to me... i never.. told anyone.. about.. a-about..."

"i know." you nod, arms tightening around her. you crawl a little backwards, just so you could reach the blanket that laid upon the couch and grab it. you wrap it around her with one hand, not letting go of her own. she subconsciously brings the fluffy fabric closer to herself and snuggles up against your body. "but you can tell me. isn't it clear, malyshka? that you're stuck with me?"

malyshka. the endearment term in russian she had taught you. she loved it, so goddamn much. a little weak smile tugs on her lips, the kindness you were showing her easing the tension — as if you were offering to carry the weight with her. compassion, empathy. so foreign.

"i just.." she shakes her head, sniffling and taking a deep, shaky breath. she stays silent for a few minutes, and you wait. voice so quiet, small.. and scared. "before you.. no one ever.. held me. i never had anyone holding me. i never had a touch that didn't mean harm. never had anyone to listen."

"i know, Nat. and that pains me more than you think." you confirm, running your fingers through her hair, and nuzzling the side of your face against her cheek, resting on your shoulder. "but trust me, i will listen for hours, days, years and centuries. if you wanna share every single second of your life with me, i'm here to listen."

"that doesn't make any freaking sense to me." she chuckles humorlessly, a soft groan escaping her throat. she was feeling a little tired. "but.. the truth is.. few people understand what i went through. the little people who lived in the same circumstances as me are probably all dead.. and... i truly don't want you to understand. i don't want you to try and live the same horrors as i did. all i wish for..."

you take a moment to stare at her when she pauses. hurt arms, tear filled face. oh, what you wouldn't do to protect this heart. to keep it safe. never let anything harm it again.

"all i wish for, is for you to be here. to hold me like you're doing, to share your own experiences with me, to live with me. to whisper sweet nothings in my ear by the night. handle my body gently. just be here. be here and i know i'll be forever safe."

that was it. everything you ever wished for. you exhale deeply and shift her carefully, so she was on your lap. she looks down at you, and at your hand.. that slowly comes up to land on her cheek. she leans against it and breathes heavily. you smile, waiting for her next expected words.

"can i..." she clears her throat, hands shyly gripping your shoulders, eyes looking at you from below her eyelashes. "can i cry more?"

"of course." you cradle her again and settle her thighs around your hips. her arms wrap around your neck, and she gently leans her head on your shoulder... allowing herself to cry.. out of relief.

your right hand tenderly caresses her leg, tracing over the self indulged scars she had. the left one, makes slow, soothing circles on her spine, moving up, and down her back. she was letting all her emotions out, all the pain inside her heavy heart, was flowing out of her being. thanks to your patience, your gentleness, and your love.

turns out, love wasn't only for children. goodness gracious, how good it was to be loved...

"god," she sobs, squeezing you tighter, nose brushing against your hair as she allows herself to.. let go. "god, i need you."

"i'm here." you confirm quietly, looking up and kissing her temple. "i'm here, i'm not going anywhere."

#natasha marvel #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff hurt/comfort #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff #mcu #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu x you

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mrsdesade · 5 months ago

Text

Control;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (Ophera as usual) TW: NSFW, smut, sub!Homelander, praise, teasing, aftercare Words count: 2,3k Note: literally a pwp, when the voices obligates you to write something different more spicy than usual

You thought you could leave, but his voice ordered suggested you to stay a little longer. To sin again. In the private swimming pool he had built in his apartment. Only because, after months, he learned that you loved taking hot baths after missions.

This time, after another demonstration of the fact that he could do whatever he wanted with your body, you decided to act bolder, ignoring his words, elegantly. Standing up from the water and walking towards the marble steps.

''You're not the only one who can do whatever he wants here. You had fun? Very well. But I'm leaving.''

''Ah, so you think you're in charge now?''

You're disobeying, you're going against his orders. He's not a fan of being challenged, he can't deny the thrilling feeling of your rebelliousness.

"Not yet, but what If I'm feeling more brave than usual?"

You came back, still standing in front of him, but he doesn't move from his position, sitting comfortably and smiling at you. You move a hand in his direction and softly touch his chin with a light gesture, moving a little his face in your direction.

There's a certain vulnerability in his expression as you move his face towards you. His eyes lock onto yours, the usual arrogance momentarily replaced with a hint of curiosity.

"Careful, doll. Don't push your luck too far."

You smiled a little, sitting on his lap once again in that long night, inside the hot water of the bathtub, and moving slowly close to his face. Showing no fear, the adrenaline of playing that dangerous game with him makes you feel alive. You know you're the only one, at the moment, that can handle him.

"You always say that, but in the end, we just end up fucking all night. You need to move on to something more creative, or I might get bored."

That dangerous last phrase, lips a few millimeters from his, just because you wanted, not thinking about the consequences, you never did. What a terrible mistake.

As you sit back on his lap, he can feel the thrill coursing through his veins. There's surprise in his eyes. He tries to keep his composure, but your words send a shiver down his spine.

"You little minx, you really think you're invincible, don't you?“

He grips the edge of the bathtub, knuckles turning white. The tension in the air is electric.

You remained still, trying to don't flinch and don't esitate, trying to be more in control of the situation. Everything is just a test, a dangerous test to see If you can keep him under control.

"Little minx, doll, etc All nicknames. I have a name, Homelander. Use it."

You ordered, pushing his patience even more. He grabs your waist, pulling you closer, until your bodies press against each other. His fingers digging into your skin as he tries to control the situation. He looks up at you with dark, fiery eyes, almost challenging your audacity.

"Oh, you want me to use your name? Is that it? You want me to remember you're more than just my pretty little toy?"

Your hands run before on his chest, then on his neck and at the end, on his blonde hair. At the beginning is just a caress, but suddenly you grab his scalp and move him in your direction with a firm movement.

"Am I really just a toy to you? A little fragile and useless toy? Really really really?"

You say in a low tone, your voice is sexy, melodic, the voice of a manipulator. Oh damn, you're really pushing him over the edge.

Homelander's breath hitches as you grab a handful of his hair, his body responding to your touch immediately. The pain from your grip is oddly thrilling, and he can't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through him. He's absolutely not used to being dominated like this.

"What do you want me to say? That you're special? Unique? Are you looking for me to boost your confidence, Ophera?"

"Special? Unique? Oh dear, tell me something I don't know."

You purred at his ear, trying to make him shiver. To make shiver the most powerful and dangerous man on Earth. Your grip on his hair is firm, you can clearly feel his body under yours responding clearly.

That mixture of pain and desire is perfect to ignite his fire.

A low growl escapes Homelander's throat as you whisper in his ear, your voice sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel himself responding to your touch, his body betraying him, showing his desire for you.

"You really know how to tease, don't you?"

You sighed dramatically, since he's not giving what you're so kindly asking, you decided to play even more with him. Trying something more effective.

You moved on his naked lap, while he's waiting for an answer, with a decisive gesture, unexpectedly, you let him entering in you. Your eyes are fixed on his, to see every single reaction from him.

"So what about this method? This isn't teasing at all."

His blue eyes widen in shock as you unexpectedly guide him inside you, a mix of surprise and pleasure overtaking his features. He can't help but let out a gasp, his body tensing up at the sudden and overwhelming sensation.

"Ngh... F-fuck. What are you doing?"

He can barely speak, his voice strained and raspy as he struggles to control his reaction. His grip tighten, holding onto you like a lifeline.

"Just trying to be convincing.''

You smile, as mischievously as you've ever been with him, your movements are slow, absolutely intentional. Looking at him surprised by your actions. The grip you have on his hair has loosened a little. And you started caressing his cheeks, mixing pleasure and a mischievous care.

This time, you're in control.

"You're... playing dirty..."

"Of course I am, and I've just started.''

And then you add your last weapon, neck kisses. Delicate and sublime. Subtle and whispered kisses on his sensitive neck. Last shot to drive him mad.

Homelander's resolve crumbles completely under your touch, his body shuddering at the sensation of your lips on his neck. He can no longer hold back the low, shaky moans escaping his throat. He closes his eyes, unable to resist the wave of pleasure washing over him.

"Ah, f-fuck you..."

"Oh no, no no, don't say such bad words to me..."

You turn one of your kisses on his neck into a sharp bite. Interested in leaving a mark on his perfect skin. You've never stopped moving your hips, tormenting him so well. Just to get an answer. Just to feel in control. All just to assert dominance in him for a couple of minutes.

He gasps sharply, his body arching involuntarily at the unexpected sensation.

"F-fuck. Damn, don't y-you dare to stop..."

He grits his teeth, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you continue to torment him with that pleasure. He's struggling to hold onto his control, but you're driving him to the edge.

"Come on admit that I'm more than a toy for you. Or you can trust me, I'll stop on the best part."

His usual dominance is now melting away under your onslaught, you can feel it, his greedy body is already at your command, and even his proud mind is slowly getting caught in your trap of pleasure.

"You… you're more than that, ok?"

Homelander's voice is strained, his usual arrogance slowly cracking as you continue to torment him. He's frustrated, but so overwhelmed by the sensation of you moving on top of him. He looks at you with a mixture of arousal and irritation.

"You have what you wanted. Now give me what I want."

"You can do better than that, pretty boy. Give me what I want."

You've slowed down your movements, he feels the pleasure slipping away, his only way to get what he wants: is to obey you.

He lets out a frustrated groan as you slow down your movements again, denying him the release he's craving. He knows what you want, and he's clearly torn between his desire to resist and his impatient need.

"Damn it, you're really going to make me beg, aren't you?”

He grits his teeth. He hates being in this position. But the desire to satisfy his carnal desires is too strong.

"Fine. You win. You're...not a toy. You're...y-you're..."

"You're struggling baby, but you're so close. It's easy. Finish your sentence. And I'll give you what you want so badly."

You're talking with a gentle but mischievous tone, caressing his face, being caring and dominant at the same time. You move on him only when he's speaking, bringing him so close to the edge.

His body trembling under your touch. He's struggling to find the words you want to hear, and his usual arrogant composure is now replaced by pure devotion to you.

"Y-you're... something more. You're...different. I can't... I can't ignore you even if I...I want to..."

He looks at you with pleading eyes, his voice shaky as he speaks.

"Please, give me what I want. I can't stand it anymore..."

You looked at him with a satisfied smile, finally feeling that you win against him this time. You felt incredibly powerful.

"Oh, you've no idea how much knowing this makes happy. You've been so good baby. So damn good..."

Your tone is sarcastic but some sort of caring and romantic. You give him another caress, and then you decide to gave him the reward for being so obedient. You purred at his ears and started moving more faster, letting him holding you to reach his final pleasure.

He lets out a guttural moan as you begin to move faster. His eyes flutter closed, lost in the flood of sensations coursing through his body. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his ragged breaths hot against your skin.

"Oh god... please don't... don't stop. I...I can't hold it any longer..."

"Let go, release yourself. That pleasure, is all for you."

Your legs are trembling as well because of his movements under you, but this isn't the moment to flinch. You remained still and in control. Whispering lovely things to him. Like the most gentle love he ever had.

Your whispered words and comforting touch send continues shivers down his spine, adding to the already intense sensations building within him.

"I... I need... you... f-fuck..."

You gasp softly. He caught you by surprise with that last sentence, you definitely didn't expect that from him. Getting a slight emotional kick from it, his words hit your heart in an unexpected way. And you can feel a single shiver of pleasure run down your spine, stronger than the other. But you don't have much time to realize.

Homelander feels your body shudder in response, but he's too far gone to pay it much mind. He's completely lost in the moment, his mind and body consumed by the intense moment. His body shakes violently as the pleasure reaches its peak, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he finally reaches his release. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding you close against him as if you were his lifeline in the midst of the overwhelming sensations.

He buries his face in your neck once again, his body still trembling with aftershocks as he tries to catch his breath.

"...you've certainly got a knack for being… persuasive."

A calm silence hangs in the air for a brief moment, the only sound being the steady flow of the still-running water. You're immersed in thoughts, trying to understand why his previous affirmation made your heart beat, it shouldn't have happened, but his voice interrupts your flow of thought. He speaks again, while you are still gently caressing his hair.

"I don't understand how you manage to get under my skin every damn time."

He looks up to you, finding comfort and a unique form of vulnerability in your arms. Irritation and admiration running in his veins.

''...you're messing with my head. You're making me feel things... goddamn it, you're making me soft."

You remained silent until that moment, just listening to his words, not knowing what to say, but his last statement makes you laugh a little.

"Why the hell are you laughing? Hey, don't laugh at me!''

''I'm laughing because I didn't say anything at all, you're doing everything by yourself.''

Your tone has softened, and your eyes are fixed on his so unusual expressions. You're discovering parts of him you never imagined. Some of them also very ridiculous. Like the overthinking he's showing right now.

Deep down he knows that you're right — his reactions are revealing more than he probably wants to admit.

He tries to maintain his usual stern demeanor, but the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile. Can't resist a response in his usual sarcastic tone.

"Fine, go ahead and laugh it up. Just don't expect me to become all nice and mushy every time we do this."

''Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, it will be our little secret. I would never want anyone to think that the great and powerful Homelander is being put down, no matter how hot the situation is, by one of his teammates.''

You give him one last caress, resting your arms on his shoulders, showing an adorable grin on your fiery red lips, where your lipstick was still perfectly in place.

''You always have to be in control, right?''

"Damn right I do. I'm the leader here, I'm always in charge."

He rolled his eyes at your teasing, but secretly enjoyed the soft touch of your hands and the sight of your perfect lips forming that adorable grin. He tried to fight a growing smirk, but failed miserably.

"It's just that... you happen to have a way of making me... forget that."

''And you have to admit that my method is almost perfect.''

You smile, with immense charm, victorious. He could dominate the world If he only wanted to, but in this situation he couldn't fight you in any way, you make him vulnerable with just a few caresses.

''I must say... surprisingly effective."

Oh, what great power you now hold in your hands.

-------

Hope you enjoyed this as much I did! Kisses for all of you <3

#homelander smut #homelander x reader #homelander the boys #homelander fanfiction #homelander x fem!reader #homelander x oc #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #the boys amazon #the boys oc #the boys fanfic #the boys series #original character #my post #the boys season 4 #the boys s4 #the boys #the boys tv

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ariseur · 6 months ago

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hiii can i req a sephiroth fic where he's a new dad who doesn't really know how to hold his daughter but he wants to while reader mama is asleep hehe thanks

soft shushes left sephiroth’s lips as he held a finger up to them, trying his hardest to calm his little baby before she woke you up. her wails filled the room, bouncing off the walls as he cautiously extended his hand out inside her crib. the white wooden material of the cradle brushed against his hand as sephiroth grazed his daughter’s cheek, her soft skin smooth against his knuckle. she squirmed in her onesie, her head flopping against her small pillow while she sobbed.

“shhh— it’s alright.. your father’s here.” how foreign it felt for him to call himself a father in the third person, he still wasn’t used to it yet after four months of officially being a parent although he referred to himself so formally. it was almost comical to you.

he didn’t mind getting up and soothing the baby sometimes, but by the way you were stirring in your sleep when he woke up told him that this would be more diffficult than the previous times; especially considering how his daughter wouldn’t stop crying no matter what tricks he used this time. soft rattles, her pacifier, even her favorite bunny toy didn’t calm her down, instead smacking the plush away when greeted with it. such attitude, he thought. wonder where she got that from.

he cooed at her and rubbed at her cheeks, even going so far as to awkwardly jingle a toy in front of her— instead being met with her iron baby grip. until he finally realized, she wasnt calming down anytime soon. he dreaded having to pick his daughter up, having no experience with babies whatsoever made his fear even worse. he wasn’t built for being a father, and he certainly didn’t know how to handle children with baby talk, but he’d try his damndest to soothe his baby. even hearing her whines made his heart ache.

his rough hands slipped under her tiny body and lifted her head up first, trying to carefully pick her up without letting her wiggle herself out of his grip. his callouses caught on the soft fabric of her pajamas, and although he could pick her up with one hand so easily, he couldn’t take any chances on hurting his own baby. he’d never let himself live it down if he did.

she peeked one eye open at her father, the color similar to yours— and he couldn’t help but watch in awe as she stopped wailing for a split second, looking up at him with wonder. until she finally scrunched her eyes again; frown deepening before it opened again to release a cry.

he adjusted his hold on her, his mind thinking back to the times where he’s watched you hold her, the time where you had gotten back from the hospital and taken her home. sephiroth snaked a hand up behind her neck to support her head, his daughter’s sniffles and sobs gradually getting softer. he brought her to his chest, rocking her a little bit as he replicated your motions. usually, with enough time, she’d fall right back to sleep once she was held enough. looking down at her, she peered up at his mako green eyes in curiosity, watching as they curved with the small smile he gave her.

sephiroth brought her up to his upper chest, having her lean on his shoulder instead as he held her neck and placed his other hand under her bottom for support, rocking her as he hummed a soft lullaby he used to hear in his training days, more like a shanty if anything. although it certainly did the trick— the only thing left in his ear were soft noises and sniffles by the time he had already recited the song twice.

he let his eyes trail across her room, memories flooding back to him in an instant. with all the childproofing around the house, the small loosely colored drawings pinned on the wall, the overhead stars set up above the crib, everything reminded him of you. even looking at his baby girl, she had your eyes. he remembered a few years earlier, having a conversation with you of how you both craved domesticity, a nice life, something better than the one you already had. and now look at him, cradling his baby in his arms and singing sweet lullabies to lull her to a slumber. he never imagined this far into the future, but god, did it make him feel so warm.

sephiroth eyed the tiny couch in the nursery, littered with toys and cartons of formula. through the window behind it, he could see the lightening sky through the sliver of curtains beyond the sofa, signaling that it was probably time for you to wake up soon. he walked back over to the crib, his baby now calm and serene as her head kept lolling downwards when he put her back in his arms.

setting her back down in the cushioned crib, he slid down on the side of it and brought his knees to his chest, hugging them to himself. he listened to her sleepy coos and slight shuffling, waiting a while to ensure she truly fell asleep. when sephiroth looked back at her, his eyes lit up to see she had finally gone back to sleep.

breathing a sigh of relief, he let the back of his head rest against the cradle, closing his eyes with a breath of victory before letting himself fall asleep on his own, occasionally waking up and checking on her sleeping form— making sure that her chest is rising and falling the way it’s supposed to.

and when you woke up, rushing to your baby’s room as it had been way too quiet, you found sephiroth snug against the cradle with your daughter asleep inside, the soft twinkling of a lullaby playing from the overhead rotating mobile hanging above the crib. your mouth dropped into a silent ‘o’ as you took the sight in with awe, a hand flying up to cover your mouth.

sephiroth may not have known how to become a father, but nobody knows. all he knows is that he’d do anything for his baby, he’d do anything for you. your baby was a part of the both of you, a piece of evidence that proved that the both of you existed. below his glare is adoration, and he’ll do anything to protect the ones who have known him before anyone else has; for he is not a war hero, he is a father. he is a lover. he is merely, sephiroth.

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lizzyiii · 1 month ago

Text

Fire and Family (1)

SUMMARY | chapter name: Aemond's Mysterious Girlfriend

WARNINGS | no warnings really, perhaps slight homophobia as well as slight rhaenicent, modern au

TAGLIST | if you'd like to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

A/N | I had so much fun writing this omggg

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

“Stop worrying."

Aemond’s grip on the steering wheel was tighter than necessary, his knuckles turning white as he kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“I’m not worried,” he replied, his voice flat and unconvincing.

You raised a skeptical brow, your silver hair catching the light as you observed his tense posture. “Is that why your fists are strangling the wheel, and your eyebrows remind me of an angry bird?”

“I’m not worried,” he murmured again, deadpan.

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention to the window, watching as the city of King’s Landing whizzed by in a blur of traffic and buildings. “Still not convinced, but I’ll drop it.”

As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, Aemond reached over without a word and pushed your feet off the dashboard.

“You’re going to scratch the dashboard,” he said, his tone more parental than necessary.

You huffed in response. “You know what would’ve made this situation so much better?”

Aemond sighed but humored you. “What?”

“If you’d introduced me to her beforehand,” you replied, casual and flippant.

“Little late for that,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the wheel again.

“Not really,” you continued, undeterred. “We can fix it tonight. You can introduce me to her, and I’ll give her a briefing.”

“A briefing?” Aemond finally turned his head to give you a raised brow.

You shrugged, completely nonchalant. “Yeah, you know, some tips on how to handle everyone. I mean, you know how our family can be.”

He turned back to the road, the light now green as the car lurched forward. “You’ll meet her tonight. That’s final.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, rolling your eyes again at his attempt to sound authoritative.

For a moment, there was silence in the car, the tension hanging in the air until you decided to poke at him again. You turned to him with a mischievous smile.

“So, can I at least know her name?”

Aemond sighed, his patience clearly running thin. “You’ll know it tonight.”

Once again, you huffed, fingers reaching for the radio, but before you could even touch it, Aemond slapped your hand away.

"Aemond!" you protested, glaring at him.

“I am not listening to the Mamma Mia soundtrack again,” he grumbled, his gaze firmly locked on the road.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms in a huff. “It wasn’t going to be Mamma Mia,” you mumbled in a quieter voice, “It was going to be Pitch Perfect.”

Aemond’s lips twitched upwards, but he said nothing, clearly not wanting to start an argument.

After a moment, you spoke up again, “You know everyone's going to be there, right?”

Aemond glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, silently asking you to elaborate.

“Jace is coming back from Winterfell University, Helaena’s flying in from her Dorne trip, and of course, Baela and Rhaena are going to be there too. The whole circus.”

Aemond closed his eye and sighed deeply. “That’s absolutely fantastic.”

You gave him a sickly sweet smile. “I know, right? It’s going to be great.”

CUE THE FRIENDS THEME SONG

"i'll be there for you..."

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - ᴜɴɴᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇʀᴀᴘɪsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ-ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ-ʜɪɢʜᴛᴏᴡᴇʀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ʙᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ғᴜɴ (ᴀᴇɢᴏɴ's ᴡᴏʀᴅs)

ʜᴇʟᴀᴇɴᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ sʜʏ ɢɪʀʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ

ᴀᴇɢᴏɴ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - "ʜᴇʀᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ."

ʙᴀᴇʟᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

ʀʜᴀᴇɴᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

ᴊᴀᴄᴇ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - "ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ" (ʜɪs sɪsᴛᴇʀ's ᴡᴏʀᴅs)

ʟᴜᴋᴇ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - ɪs ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

“Family, I’m home!” you called out, stepping into the elaborate white foyer, adorned with red and gold accents, the unmistakable colors of House Targaryen. Almost instantly, you heard a high-pitched squeal of, “Mandia!” before a blur of silver hair zoomed toward your legs.

Before Aegon could tackle you, you scooped him up in your arms. His delighted giggles filled the room as you peppered his chubby cheeks with endless kisses. His tiny hands pushed your face away, but his smile said he loved every second of it.

Still grinning, you carried Aegon further into the house and walked into the living room, where you found your Joffrey sitting at the dining table, looking miserable. His dark hair was a mess, and he seemed to be staring at a mountain of papers.

“What are you doing?” you frowned, setting Aegon down and taking a closer look at the chaos.

Joffrey sighed dramatically, shooting you a pleading look that screamed, Save me. “Mum’s making me do homework.”

“Homework?” You scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “It’s summer break!”

“Please tell her that,” Joffrey begged, his eyes wide with desperation as you ruffled his shaggy hair.

Smirking, you patted him on the back. "Good luck with that, babe. You're on your own."

After that you made your way into your room, tossing your suitcase haphazardly onto the floor, you began the half-hearted process of unpacking. It wasn’t long before the monotony of folding clothes drove you to abandon the task altogether. You had barely been home for an hour, and already you were bored out of your mind.

Deciding you needed some distraction, you wandered downstairs to the nursery, where your baby brother, Viserys, was babbling away in his crib. As soon as he saw you, his face lit up, and he let out a delighted squeal. You couldn’t resist scooping him up, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses until he was giggling uncontrollably and swatting at your face with his tiny hands.

"Alright, alright, no more kisses," you chuckled, carrying him out toward the backyard. "Let's go hang by the pool. It's hot enough to melt dragon eggs out there."

By the time you settled onto a lounge chair by the pool, it was around 3 p.m. Viserys lay on your stomach, gurgling happily, while Aegon and Joffrey were busy running around with the family dogs, chasing after balls that had long since disappeared under bushes.

Naturally, the estate wasn’t complete without its own mini-zoo: four large dogs—Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, and Stormcloud—were bounding around, while Syrax, your mother's obnoxiously spoiled Ragdoll cat, lounged on a nearby chair, surveying her kingdom with complete indifference.

You were just about to doze off when the sound of heels clacking against the stone patio jolted you awake. Your mother, Rhaenyra, burst onto the scene, looking as though she’d just sprinted from the boardroom to the backyard. She was still dressed in a sharply tailored business suit, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, phone in one hand and a look of mild panic in her eyes.

“Hey, twin,” you greeted lazily, raising a hand in half-hearted acknowledgment from your pool chair.

She barely slowed her pace, but she leaned down to kiss your cheek and then pressed a quick kiss to Viserys’s forehead. “Oh, you’re home,” she said, clearly distracted as her eyes scanned the chaos happening around the pool.

“Yup, back from the university zoo,” you replied, glancing at your phone. “By the way, what time are we supposed to be at Alicent’s dinner again?”

Rhaenyra frowned, her silver brows knitting together as she thought. “Five. Why?”

You tilted your phone toward her, raising a brow. “It’s 4:55.”

“Seven hells,” she muttered under her breath, eyes widening. For reasons beyond your comprehension, she always treated Alicent Hightower’s monthly dinners like they were state banquets.

“I know I’m late,” she said, already halfway out the door again. “Just give me five minutes to change.”

As she reached the door, she paused and did a quick headcount. Her eyes narrowed. “Where’s Jace?”

You absentmindedly tickled Viserys’s tummy, earning more giggles as you replied, “He texted me. He’s meeting us there. And he’s bringing a friend.”

Your mother turned around, her interest piqued. “A friend, or a friend?”

You gave her an exasperated look. “Mum, it’s his roommate, Cregan. Calm down, please."

Rhaenyra sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. “Well, considering the way you lot are going, I’ve given up hope for grandchildren.”

You rolled your eyes, pointing at yourself, “First of all, your eldest child—that’s me—is only 21."

Then you gestured at Viserys, who was now trying to chew on his own hand, "And second of all, why on earth would you want grandchildren when your youngest is two years old?”

Your mother waved you off, muttering something about you distracting her before she rushed back inside.

She disappeared inside, muttering something about being late. You let out a long, exaggerated sigh, lifting Viserys off your stomach and handing him over to Elinda, the family nanny who had looked after you when you were a babe.

Once Viserys was safely in her arms, you heaved yourself out of the lounge chair and trudged inside to change, mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable awkwardness that always came with family dinners at Alicent’s.

You settled on a white, lacy top, a floral skirt that was just the right amount of "summer chic," and a pair of simple heels. You gave yourself an approving nod in the mirror. Definitely Alicent-approved.

Feeling confident, you grabbed your phone and headed out of your room, only to bump straight into Luke, who was coming down the hallway. He grinned at you, but your smile quickly turned into a frown as you eyed his outfit—jeans, a wrinkled graphic tee, and sneakers that had definitely seen better days.

"Are you serious?" you said, crossing your arms. "Are you going in that?"

Luke looked down at himself, confused and mildly offended. "What’s wrong with this?"

You gestured dramatically to your own outfit, then at his. "This is a formal dinner, Luke. We're not going to some burger joint."

"It’s a family dinner," Luke said, clearly not seeing the issue.

"Yeah," you emphasized, "hosted by Alicent. You know, the Queen of Passive-Aggressive Judgement? If you show up in jeans and a t-shirt, she’ll feel disrespected. She’ll probably spend the whole evening giving you the side-eye over the salad forks."

Luke crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s not that big of a dea—”

Before he could finish, your mother appeared at the staircase, looking like a force of nature in her sleek, all-black ensemble, her eyes narrowing immediately as she took in Luke’s choice of attire.

"What are you wearing?" she demanded, her voice carrying that “I’m not mad, just disappointed” tone that only parents can master.

"It’s a family dinner," Luke mumbled, pouting like a child caught sneaking biscuits before dinner.

Your mother gave him the look. The one that could send grown men running. "Go change."

"But—"

"Go. Change," Rhaenyra repeated, in a tone that left zero room for argument.

Luke groaned loudly, throwing his head back in melodramatic exasperation before stomping back toward his room like a scolded puppy.

By the time 6 p.m. rolled around, your mother had somehow managed to corral the entire chaotic family into the car. Aegon and Viserys were strapped securely in their car seats, with Joffrey wedged between them, poking Aegon every few minutes just to get a reaction.

Luke sat in the very back seat, arms crossed, radiating the kind of grumpy energy only a teenager could muster. You claimed the front seat beside Rhaenyra, already bracing yourself for the inevitable passive-aggressive showdown awaiting at Alicent’s.

"It’s 6 p.m.," you muttered, stating the obvious as your eyes flicked to the time on the dashboard.

Your mother shot you a side-eye glare that could freeze molten lava. You quickly clamped your mouth shut, deciding now was not the time to point out that being late to Alicent’s dinner would no doubt set off a chain reaction of looks and carefully veiled comments that would last the entire evening.

Rhaenyra turned on the radio, flipping through stations until she settled on some boring classical piece that did nothing to soothe the tension in the car.

As she drove through the sprawling estate, known to everyone as The Red Keep—a legacy of your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror, who apparently thought "over-the-top" was the only acceptable style choice—you stared out the window at the endless rows of manicured gardens, fountains, and random side buildings that no one in your family had probably set foot in for years. The mansion itself loomed in the distance, more of a castle than a house, with its stone towers and stained-glass windows.

When your mother finally parked the car, you all piled out in a semi-organized chaos. Rhaenyra retrieved Aegon and Viserys, who immediately started wriggling in her arms, while Joffrey sprinted off toward the front door like he was being chased by dragons. Luke, the embodiment of teenage apathy, slouched behind the rest of you with a heavy sigh that spoke volumes about his deep emotional struggle of having to attend a family dinner.

As you approached the towering entrance, the ever-present bodyguards, Erryk and Arryk Cargyll, stood on either side like twin statues. You gave them a quick nod as you passed, wondering if even they were secretly judging how late you were.

Before you could step inside, a flash of auburn hair appeared, and Alicent was suddenly in front of you, her expression teetering somewhere between mildly annoyed and disappointed but not surprised.

"Rhaenyra," she greeted coolly, her tone carrying just the right amount of disapproval to let you know you were late—very late.

"Alicent," your mother said smoothly, slipping into apology mode. "I know, I know—we’re late. Work ran long." She leaned in, giving Alicent a quick kiss on the cheek that seemed to linger just a second longer than necessary.

You raised an eyebrow, watching the subtle exchange with some curiosity. You were used to Alicent’s uptight demeanor, but there was always something… odd about the way your mother and Alicent interacted. Maybe it was because, once upon a time, they had been best friends—until Alicent up and married your grandfather, effectively making her the stepmother to her childhood bestie.

Yeah, you supposed that would add some awkward tension.

Alicent sighed, pulling back from the greeting with a tight smile. "Well, let’s just hope the food hasn’t gone cold. You know how my father hates to be kept waiting."

"Wouldn’t want to upset Lord Hightower," you quipped under your breath.

Both Alicent and your mother gave you identical disapproving glares, but before they could say anything, Alicent leaned in to greet you with a polite kiss on the cheek. Of course, you had to be you, so you obnoxiously wrapped your arms around her in an exaggerated hug.

"Hello, grandma!" you said, grinning mischievously.

Alicent rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of affection in her sigh. "You know I hate when you call me that."

"Which is exactly why I do it." You winked before clearing your throat. "So, is Aemond here yet?"

Alicent’s smile faltered for a moment, and you could see the familiar worry crease her brow. “No, not yet. But while we’re on the topic…” She gave you a pointed look. "Care to enlighten me on this mysterious girl he’s apparently been dating for two months? You’re usually the first to know these things."

You raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know a thing about her.”

Both Alicent and Rhaenyra looked like you’d just told them that dragons were real (again). Their jaws dropped simultaneously, and you glanced between them, confused.

“What? Why is everyone looking at me like I’ve grown a second head?”

“You don’t know?” Rhaenyra said, her tone somewhere between disbelief and accusation.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "Why does everyone expect me to know? I'm not Aemond’s personal secretary."

Alicent waved her arms in exasperation. "Perhaps because you two have been attached at the hip since you were in nappies?"

"Well, for the first time in my life, I don’t know!" you whisper-shouted, your frustration finally bubbling over. "And, yeah, maybe I’m a wee bit hurt that Aemond didn’t trust me enough to tell me her name or introduce us, but hey—that’s his deal!"

Both women stared at you in stunned silence, your mother’s mouth twitching as if she was processing this new information, while Alicent blinked in surprise at your mini-outburst. After a beat, Alicent softened and gave you a light, comforting pat on the shoulder. “The girls are in the lounge,” she murmured, trying to be supportive in the most Alicent way possible.

Lifting your chin, determined to keep your dignity intact, you gave a firm nod. "Thank you." With that, you turned and strode off toward the lounge, making your exit with as much grace as possible.

You took a deep breath, shaking off the last remnants of your frustration, and plastered a bright smile on your face before walking into the lounge. It was one of the many rooms in the Red Keep that felt like it was trying too hard to be both cozy and luxurious, with its intricate tapestries and way-too-expensive furniture that no one was allowed to actually use.

But all thoughts of the décor flew out of your head when you laid eyes on your brother. The first words that escaped your mouth were, "What the fuck happened to your hair?"

Jace looked up from his conversation with Luke and his friend, touching his newly curly locks with a sigh. “Gee, thanks, sis.”

“Not in a bad way!” you quickly backtracked, making your way over to him and playfully ruffling his curls. "I'm just glad you finally abandoned the straightening phase. Natural is always better."

Jace rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly used to your commentary. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway,” he waved a hand toward the guy sitting next to him, “This is Cregan Stark, my roommate.”

You turned to greet Cregan, but the words froze in your throat as your brain registered the sight in front of you. Standing there was a man who looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of Northern Lumberjack Monthly. Dark, unruly hair, piercing blue eyes, and shoulders so broad you were pretty sure he could carry a small house on them.

“Wow," you said before you could stop yourself, your eyes a bit wider than necessary.

Cregan chuckled at your reaction, a deep, rumbling sound. “Not the first time I’ve heard that,” he said, clearly amused.

You quickly regained your composure, throwing on a dazzling smile. "Well, I mean... you're just very Northern."

“Guilty as charged,” Cregan replied with an easy grin.

Trying to focus on literally anything else other than Cregan’s annoyingly attractive face, you turned back to Jace. “Where are the girls?”

Jace, already halfway through his beer, gestured lazily toward the patio with his glass. “Out there. Probably gossiping or plotting our demise.”

You snorted. “Sounds about right. Cheers, boys,” you said, giving a mock salute before heading out to find Baela, Rhaena and Hel.

You let out an excited squeal as soon as your eyes landed on Helaena. Without a second thought, you rushed toward her, practically barreling past Baela and Rhaena with a quick, “Move!”

Helaena, equally excited, squealed back, and the two of you collided in a tight embrace, jumping up and down like you hadn’t just seen each other in a few lifetimes. Which, in fairness, felt true. Helaena had been in Dorne for four months on what could only be described as the world’s longest vacation.

Rhaena watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, while Baela rolled her eyes and dramatically placed a hand over her heart. "Wow, cuz, it’s so nice to know how deeply you value us," Baela said, her voice dripping with mock offense.

With your arms still firmly wrapped around Helaena’s neck, you stuck your tongue out at Baela. “I see you two every day. I haven’t seen Helaena in months, so shush.”

You turned to Helaena, pecking her cheek, before launching into your usual barrage of questions. “Okay, spill! How was Dorne? How was Sunspear? And…” You wiggled your eyebrows dramatically. “How was Quentyn Martell?”

At the mention of Quentyn, Helaena’s cheeks flushed a light pink, and she immediately looked away, pretending to be oh-so-casual. “Dorne was... hot,” she muttered, fidgeting with her sleeve. “Sunspear was beautiful, and... well, Quentyn was lovely too.”

You smirked. “Lovely, huh?”

"Someone’s being a prude," Baela chimed in with a teasing grin. She leaned back against the bench, throwing a glance at Helaena. “Just say what we’re all thinking: you shagged him.”

Rhaena, who had been sipping her wine, nearly choked from laughing, patting her sister on the arm. "Baela, don't tease her. I’m sure it’s all very innocent."

Baela raised an eyebrow and gave Helaena a knowing look. "Yeah, as innocent as Aegon Targaryen with his sisters."

Helaena groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you all.”

You chuckled, plopping down on the bench next to her. “You love us. Now tell us everything. Was there hand-holding? Eye-gazing? Did he pull the classic ‘let me show you the Water Gardens’ move?”

Helaena shot you a look but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her face. “Fine, fine! He did show me the Water Gardens, but that’s not the point!”

Baela and Rhaena leaned in closer, wide-eyed like they were hearing the most scandalous story of the century. “Did he kiss you under a lemon tree? Were there doves?” Baela gasped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Helaena sighed, clearly regretting sharing anything. "You guys are taking the piss at me. And no, there were no doves. But we had a good time, alright? He is very sweet."

“Sweet is good!” you said, nodding approvingly. “But we’re going to need more details later. Like, what’s his deal? Tall, dark, and broody? Or more of the sensitive, soulful type?”

“Definitely broody,” Helaena admitted, almost shyly. “But... in a nice way?”

Baela snorted. “Classic Martell. Broody and mysterious. I’m telling you, it’s the heat in Dorne. Does something to their brains.”

You wiggled your eyebrows again, completely ignoring Helaena’s growing embarrassment. “Well, sounds like you’ve got yourself a Martell boyfriend. Now we just need to figure out how to drag Aemond’s mystery girl into the spotlight, and we’ll be set for tonight’s entertainment.”

Helaena gave you a playful shove. “You’re impossible. But fine, I’ll fill you in on the nonexistent doves later.”

Before you could embarrass Helaena further, Orwyle, the Red Keep’s ever-serious butler, appeared on the patio, clearing his throat. "Ladies, dinner is about to be served. And Miss Helaena, your brother has arrived."

Helaena raised an eyebrow, "Aemond or Aegon?"

"Both," Orwyle replied in his usual dry tone.

The girls perked up, but before anyone could say another word, your phone blared with the opening notes of "A Whole New World."

Baela gave you a dry look. “Seriously? Aladdin?”

You shrugged unapologetically, "Aladdin is a top-tier movie, and you know it."

As the girls made their way inside, you checked your phone screen where the name "Daeron the Forgotten" flashed in large letters. Rolling your eyes, you hit accept, and Daeron's boyish face filled the screen, silver hair tousled and lilac eyes gleaming with mischief.

"What do you want?" you asked, not even trying to hide the exasperation in your voice.

Daeron feigned shock. "First of all, rude. Second of all, I want to know about Aemond's girlfriend. Is she real or just a figment of his moody imagination?"

"You’re such a busybody,” you teased. “How about actually showing up to family dinners for once and finding out yourself?"

Daeron rolled his eyes dramatically. "I would but I was just there two weeks ago. And you know how much my mum can be..."

“Alicent Hightower? Overbearing? No!” you gasped, clutching your chest in mock disbelief.

Daeron smirked, but then his expression shifted as he groaned. "Plus, last month, when Rhaena announced she was a lesbian, and Mum started quoting the Faith of the Seven like she was auditioning for a preach-off... I’m not in a rush to sit through that again."

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, remembering the uncomfortable but hilarious scene. Wiping away an imaginary tear, you shook your head. "Oh, that was iconic. Alicent with the Seven verses... classic."

“Anyway, turn to the back camera so I can see Aemond’s girlfriend," Daeron insisted.

Rolling your eyes, you juggled your phone awkwardly, trying to press the right buttons with your manicured nails as you navigated through the massive Red Keep. “I’m doing it, relax!”

“Well, hurry up!” Daeron complained, his impatience crackling through the speaker.

Finally, after an eternity of fumbling, you stepped into the dining room. "Okay, got it," you said triumphantly as you flipped the camera.

"Ho-ly shite," Daeron whispered in shock.

Your brow furrowed.

"What?" You looked up, following the collective gaze of your family, all of whom were staring wide-eyed at Aemond. More specifically, at the woman latched onto Aemond’s arm. A woman who, you quickly realized, was a lot older than him.

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as you finally recognized her familiar face. No. No. No. No.

You blinked, your mouth going dry as you looked at Aemond, who, to his credit, was meeting your gaze with the most desperate “help me” eyes you’d ever seen in your life.

Clearing your throat, you plastered on your best smile, trying to break the god-awful tension in the room. "Professor Rivers! Wow, it’s been a while! How are you?"

The silence in the room somehow got worse, if that was even possible. From your peripheral vision, you caught the sound of someone choking on their wine—most likely Jace—and Alicent’s audible gasp as she clutched her pearls, literally.

This was bad. This was so bad.

Great. Because of course no one else knew that Alys Rivers was your and Aemond's former professor.

Aegon, ever the king of timing, leaned in with a smirk. “So, do we still have to call her Alys? Or is ‘Professor Rivers’ more appropriate?”

You shot him a look that could kill, while Aemond, standing as still as a statue, whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m going to die.”

Alicent looked like she was about to faint, while Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot so high, they were nearly in her hairline. “Aemond,” she finally said, her voice tight. “I think you forgot to mention this at the last family supper.”

The room was thick with tension—enough to choke on—and you were just trying to figure out how to survive this nightmare. Grabbing your phone, you whispered into the speaker, "Daeron, I need backup."

On the other end, Daeron was losing it. “Oh, I so wish I was there. This is gold.”

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

A/N — tell me what you think!!!! I forgot to put in the word count: 3.9k words. Also for context of all their ages.

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@missyviolet123 @luckyfirebasement @champomiel @targaryenfamilywreath @lovewithmary @babypink224221

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra x alicent #rhaena targaryen

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slayfics · 2 months ago

Text

Katsuki breaks up with you.

1k words

Katsuki hands shook, as he let out a shaken breath. Running his hands over his face, before returning them to resting on his knees. His eyes fixated on the floor never once looking up at you.

“Katsuki, what is it?” You asked softly.

Katsuki leg shook at your question. Elbow moving to his knee as he placed his chin in his palm. Never moving his gaze.

It wasn’t a secret to you that a rift had come between you and Katsuki. The past few months he seemed to be drifting further and further away. Still, you kept your wits about you. Maintaining your same routine, loving affection, and undying patience for him.

It’s a phase, you told yourself. Even the best relationships have their ups and downs. You’d come back stronger than ever in no time, you were sure of it... But then an ominous text came.

[Katsuki] Can we talk tonight?

Now he sat on your couch in a state you’d never seen before. His eyes started to gloss over as his mouth slightly parted, still finding the right words.

“I don’t know how to say this shit,” he grumbled, and you heard the crack in his voice.

“Just tell me Kats, whatever it is we can work through it,” you said quietly.

At that, the gloss in his eyes formed into full tears. The room is so quiet the soft drops of tears seem to echo.

“You know I love you right?” he asked, glancing over slightly at you before looking at the wall. He couldn’t handle the expression on your face. You had to know it was coming. Your body looked like it was braced for a shock. Hands gripping at your seat so tight your knuckles were white.

“Of course, I love you too Katsuki…” you whispered, the lump in your throat forming. This wasn’t what you thought this was- was it?

“That’s why… I can’t lie to you anymore,” he said, wiping the tears from his face.

You had so many questions but felt paralyzed in your spot. Lie to you? What could that mean?

“It’s… not fucking fair to you and…,” Katsuki threw his head back on the couch, both hands covering his face.

“Katsuki please just tell me…”

“I’m trying,” he grumbled more tears forming, voice unrecognizable.

“Did you… find someone else?” You finally managed to ask, mouth drying out, ear ringing from the intensity in the room.

“No. I mean… not in the way you’re thinking,” Katsuki said, sitting back up.

“I don’t understand Katsuki.” You said, heart squeezing. What could he mean?

“I… fuck. Look I’ve come to some realizations recently. It’s been hard… and I…,” Katsuki broke off, legging shaking faster than before. No matter how hard he tried there just weren’t the right words for this situation.

“Please… tell me so I can be there for you,” you urged.

A final sigh left his chest deflating, “I’m not straight.”

“Oh.”

The room froze.

Your eyes darted from side to side as you processed. Katsuki stayed silent and no longer moved. 'Oh' isn’t what someone wants to hear when they come out, but he knew couldn’t expect you to be supportive when he’d just shattered your heart, the vision of your future with him. All gone.

Tears left and he didn’t care if you felt you needed space, he needed to comfort you.

“Come here,” he pulled you to him wrapping his arms around you he cradled you in his lap. “I’m sorry,” he whispered forehead pressed to you. Both of you wept.

He squeezed you and you tried to gather the thoughts racing through you. Trying to catch one and make sense of it. He’d been going through this alone for how long?

“You’ve been struggling with this alone?” you asked, hiccupping back tears.

“Don’t- don’t worry about me,” he demanded. “I just- betrayed you. Be mad at me.”

“Katsuki,” you cooed, placing a gentle hand on his face. Thumb brushing away tears. “You could never betray me by living authenticity.”

Tears flowed freely, how could you be so kind and understanding to him? He pressed a caring kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t deserve that,” he muttered.

“Of course you do.” You said silencing his self-hatred.

“You know I’d still do anything for you right? I’m not disappearing. I’m going to look out for you, the rest of my life.”

“And I’ll always be your biggest fan,” you replied resting your head on his chest.

He rocked you both, moments passed, and tears subsided.

The lingering question becomes too strong to hold back. “Is it Eijiro?” You asked.

How were you so perspective, Katsuki wondered. He didn’t answer but squeezed you tighter, “I didn’t cheat on you, I promise. I’m sorry I just… need to figure this out.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” you said relaxing more into him, “and please stop apologizing Kats.”

He mumbled into your hair, chin resting on your head. “I hate myself for hurting you, I- never wanted to do that.”

“You could never hurt me by being happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you.” You replied.

“Don’t lie. I fucked this all up. You’ve- got to be hurting don’t hold back,” he pressed. His stomach twisted. The masochist parts of himself wanted you to hate him. It’s what he deserved for throwing away all the hard work you put into him.

“Of course, I’m hurting, and I will for a while. But- I’ll be ok. And anyway, what’s the alternative? Keeping you in a relationship you’re not satisfied with? I love you far too much to wish that for you,” you said picking up his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“You’re still the best thing that’s happened to me,” he whispered. “I… don’t think I could have been this honest with myself if it wasn’t for your unconditional affection. So… let me at least take care of you tonight. Make your favorite meal. Whether else you want. I owe you that much.”

“You aren’t in my debt Katsuki but, I’ll never say no to your cooking.” You answered a small smile tugging your lips.

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialsapphire @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99 @jays-adventure3 @bythevay @my-beloved-fandoms

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libingan · 1 month ago

Text

i havent had a proper sleep since monday!!!! do you know how much caffeine ive consumed to be able to pull these damn all-nighters?!?!?!? jesus fucking christ man

hopefully ill be able to sleep tonight 🙏

könig’s always been a little shy, a little hesitant. you’ve known that since the first time you met him, towering over you but never quite looking you in the eye. it’s almost amusing, how a man his size can be so... submissive, so easy to unravel with just a few soft words and gentle touches.

he’s practically trembling under your touch now, hands clenched into the sheets, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. he’s trying so hard to hold himself together, but you can see the cracks forming, the way his body is betraying him. it won’t take much to push him over the edge.

you lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “good boy.”

that’s all it takes. the moment those words leave your lips, könig lets out a strangled moan, his whole body shuddering as he finally loses control. thick ropes of cum spill from him, coating your hand and splattering across your face. he’s gasping, whimpering, his eyes squeezed shut in shame and overwhelming pleasure.

you can’t help but smile, watching him come undone so easily. pathetic, you think, though there’s a strange sort of affection in the way you look at him. he’s always been so desperate for your approval, so eager to please.

his cock is still twitching, hard and needy despite the mess he’s made. könig looks up at you, eyes wide and pleading, as if he can’t believe what just happened. his chest heaves with each breath, and you can see the flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“look at you,” you coo, wiping his cum from your face with the back of your hand. “can’t even handle a few touches without falling apart.”

he whimpers again, shifting uncomfortably under your gaze, but he doesn’t move to stop you. if anything, he seems even more desperate now, his hips lifting just slightly as if begging for more.

“still hard?” you tease, glancing down at his swollen shaft, twitching in the air. “such a needy thing, aren’t you?”

könig doesn’t respond with words, just another low, pitiful moan as his hands grip the sheets even tighter. he’s completely at your mercy, and he knows it. the shame on his face only makes him look more pathetic, more desperate for the attention you’ve been giving him.

you hum softly, wrapping your fingers around his length again, watching the way he shudders beneath you. “don’t worry,” you murmur, stroking him slowly, deliberately, “i’ll take good care of you, könig. you just have to be a good boy for me.”

your lips curl into a sly smile as you see the desperation in his eyes, the way he’s barely holding himself together, trembling under your touch. it’s almost endearing, how a man like him—so massive, so intimidating—can be reduced to this. needy, helpless, and all for you.

“such a good boy,” you murmur, letting your thumb brush over the sensitive tip of his cock, smearing the remnants of his release across his skin. he gasps, his body jerking at the touch, but his hips instinctively lift towards you, chasing your hand, craving more.

you slowly pull your hand away and watch his reaction, savoring the way his brow furrows, the soft whimper that escapes his lips. he looks so lost, so desperate for you. and you’re more than happy to give him what he needs.

“you want more, könig?” your voice is low, teasing as you straddle his waist, letting your wetness brush against the head of his cock. his eyes widen, breath hitching at the sudden contact, but he stays still beneath you, waiting—like the obedient thing he is—for your permission.

“please…” his voice is barely a whisper, almost broken.

“please what?” you ask, leaning down to brush your lips against his ear, your breath hot on his skin. “use your words, könig.”

his hands flex against the sheets, knuckles white as he tries to keep control. “please... ride me,” he finally manages, his voice thick with need, and you can feel the way his cock twitches beneath you, aching for you.

you grin, positioning yourself just above him, letting the slick head of his cock press against your entrance. the anticipation is killing him, you can see it in his eyes—the way they’re locked onto you, wide and pleading, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each shallow breath.

“good boy,” you whisper again, and before he can say another word, you sink down onto him, taking him in inch by inch. könig moans—loud and unrestrained—his hands shooting up to grip your hips, his eyes rolling back as you stretch around him.

he’s so big, filling you completely, and the feeling of him inside you makes your breath hitch, pleasure sparking through your veins. you take a moment, letting yourself adjust to his size, feeling every inch of him pulsing inside you.

“fuck…” könig groans, his voice low and broken. his hands are shaking against your hips, fingers digging into your skin, but he doesn’t dare move. he’s waiting for you to take the lead, to set the pace.

and when you start to move, slowly at first, rolling your hips against his, könig’s head falls back against the pillow, his mouth falling open as a choked moan escapes his lips.

“so tight,” he mutters, almost to himself, his eyes squeezing shut as you ride him, your pace slow and deliberate, teasing him with every roll of your hips. “fuck… you feel so good…”

you can feel him twitching inside you, so close to losing control already, and it only spurs you on. you pick up the pace, riding him faster, harder, watching the way he falls apart beneath you, completely at your mercy.

“look at you,” you purr, leaning forward to press your palms against his chest, keeping him pinned beneath you. “so desperate to be fucked… so needy for me.”

könig’s breathing is ragged, his chest heaving beneath your hands as he looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes. he’s a mess—moaning, trembling, completely undone by the way you’re riding him.

“please…” he gasps, his grip on your hips tightening, his voice trembling with need. “please don’t stop…”

you smirk, leaning down to capture his lips in a bruising kiss, your hips never slowing. “i won’t,” you murmur against his mouth, feeling the way his cock twitches inside you, knowing he’s close. “but you have to be a good boy for me, könig.”

he moans again, louder this time, and you can feel his body starting to tense beneath you, his release just within reach. and you know, with just a few more thrusts, he’ll be yours—completely and utterly undone.

your hips roll harder against him, setting a brutal pace, and you can feel könig’s entire body start to tremble beneath you. his hands grip your waist like a lifeline, and his moans grow louder, more desperate with every movement.

“f-fuck—” he chokes out, his voice breaking as he tries to hold back, tries to keep it together. but you can feel it—how close he is, how badly he wants to let go.

“you’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?” you tease, your voice low and breathy, leaning down so your lips are just inches from his ear. “you’ve been such a good boy, könig… i know you want to.”

he nods frantically, his face flushed, sweat beading at his temples as he struggles to keep his composure. “i—i can’t hold it,” he gasps, his hips bucking up into you uncontrollably. “please… i’m so close…”

“then cum,” you whisper, grinding your hips against him harder, feeling him throb inside you. “cum for me, könig.”

that’s all it takes. with a broken, guttural moan, könig’s body tenses beneath you, and you feel the sudden, hot pulse of his release inside you. his grip on your hips is almost bruising as he rides out his orgasm, his entire body trembling with the force of it.

you don’t stop, your pace relentless as you push him through it, milking every last bit of pleasure from him. his moans turn into whimpers, his cock twitching inside you as you keep moving, pushing him further and further into overstimulation.

“don’t think we're finished,” you whisper, leaning down close to his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “i haven’t cum yet.”

könig's eyes widen, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he looks up at you, completely overwhelmed. “i—I can’t—” he stammers, his body twitching underneath you, sensitive beyond belief.

“you can, and you will,” you murmur, gripping his shoulders as you start moving again, this time faster, chasing your own release. “be a good boy and take it.”

könig groans, his hands weakly grasping at your waist, but he doesn’t stop you. he can’t—he’s too far gone, completely at your mercy. every movement sends shudders through him, his overstimulated cock still twitching inside you as you push him to his limits.

you’re close, the tight knot in your stomach coiling tighter with every roll of your hips, every moan that slips from könig’s lips. “just a little more,” you breathe, your pace quickening as you ride him harder, chasing that edge. “i’m so close…”

könig’s eyes squeeze shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he struggles to hold on, his entire body trembling with the effort. but he takes it, just like you told him to, his moans turning into desperate whimpers as you grind against him.

and then you feel it—the sharp wave of pleasure crashing through you as you finally reach your climax, your body tensing as you ride out the high. you cry out, your nails digging into könig’s shoulders as your hips buck against his, drawing out every last bit of your release.

only then do you finally slow, your body going slack with satisfaction as you collapse onto könig’s chest, both of you panting, completely spent. he’s still trembling beneath you, his breath ragged, but his arms wrap weakly around you, holding you close.

“good boy,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his neck as his body finally relaxes under your touch.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #cod x reader #call of duty smut #konig call of duty #konig x reader smut #konig smut #konig x reader #konig x female reader #konig #konig x female reader smut #könig x reader smut #könig smut #könig x reader #könig x fem reader

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anantaru · 2 years ago

Text

PLEASE ME LIKE YOU LOVE ME

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — it‘s only natural to bring your husband lunch while he‘s busy at work.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — this was supposed to come out on his birthday but i lowkey forgot about it until randomly finding it in my drafts today, anyways, enjoy <3

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 1.6k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, semi public, reader is referred to as his 'spouse', established relationship, he's your husband

"zho-zhongli, wait!"

you panic before being roughly pushed back against his work desk, panting as you heard a small rustle and jingle, the sound being a clear result of the way zhongli clumsily got rid of the bothersome materials on the wooden table, swatting them against the flooring.

swiftly, you were lowering your face as you observed your husband quietly settle in between your spread legs, his hands, like sharp daggers, scramming your instinctively moving body.

"we shouldn‘t do this here."

you gave him an unsure look, one that emphasized your point and indicated towards the obvious.

what started as an innocent visit to zhongli's workplace, to hand him his lunch that he had forgotten at your shared home, soon followed into something much different.

"i was just about to indulge in my meal." zhongli kindly spoke, a bit raspy but focused, a coy smile perfectly utilized and working hand in hand with his turn of phrase.

"ah- what a shame." he‘s tumbling over your pretty thighs, ghosting his lips over the squishy skin. Your muscles tensed up of the solid grip he had on you, seizing you close.

but no further, his hands fell lower to where your precious core was which was still covered and sweetly tugged in, hidden under the flimsy material of your dampened panties.

"but what if someone sees us."

it's so sickly sweet to him, really. How your knuckles had turned white at the way you were nervously gripping onto the edge of the table while silently begging.

yes or no? and you know you shouldn't do this here, the possibility of someone catching you both during the act would be not only embarrassing but surely held their own consequences.

in the way he would handle you, with such significant caress, you could taste the experience in his touch when he planted a warm kiss on the inside of your thigh, "i will notice, you needn't worry."

your chest heaved, though reluctant you knew he wasn't one for empty promises, "o-okay." you nodded and trusted his instincts more than anything else, your zhongli wasn't careless, never.

you knew him, all of him, like the back of your hand you had him memorized entirely.

in one slow action, he gingerly hooked his digits into the waistband of your panties that were, much to your embarrassment, already wholly drenched in your slick, dragging the wet garment down your legs and leaving it dangling around your ankle.

your warm cheeks, that further gave rise to your undying beauty, or your unmoving eyes observing his every move, you seemed ethereal, delicate when your body responded.

the heat coiled deep within you as he lowered his fingers to playfully run them through your seeping folds, assembling your slick on his pads. "do you want this?"

zhongli wanted to make sure, gazing from under his thick lashes as you propped yourself up with your arms, returning his call. "i do, please touch me."

he laughed at your words, a little coquettish, outlining the inside of your folds and gently massaging the spongy spot with your flesh engulfing his finger pads.

in under a heart beat, he drew his face close again, there was nothing that could've prepared you for the pleasure he was about to inflict on you. You were quick to twist your hand into his hair as he began to plant a couple of kisses on your wet core, inducing tiny whimpers off your throat.

the strength that was imbued behind his clasp on you was nothing that would ever make you uncomfortable, ever.

for zhongli, you were his angelic spouse, his loved one and he handled you as such, with serious devotion, his breathing too, tiptoeing on your skin and electrifying a heart stirring sensation deep into the furthest depths of your belly.

he slowly slides his tongue on your pulsing pussy, you were excessively wet which made it possible for him to taste your slick immediately, drinking in the pure pleasure of your essence.

zhongli's eyes are closed in concentration and his mouth was parted, his tongue wiggling its tip past your dripping folds to catch the spongy spots, multiplying his tempo as his arms around your hips tightened.

your body responded - or at least made an attempt to respond to him in ways where words weren't needed, not that you were able to say anything in the first place.

your back arched off the cold desk with your hand further twisting through his hair, dragging him near you.

at his precise targetting, your heart clenched deep in your chest, his wet tongue hit all the right aching places in your cunt.

placing enough attention in your expressions made it possible for zhongli to target every area that had you hopelessly gushing around his tongue, had you screaming his name in downright enjoyment.

"r-right there." you're whispering through a broken moan," there!" you mewled again, accentuating your breathless words and begging that he, hopefully, had heard you through the rasping current of your violent sobbing.

zhongli lightly raised his brow and flicked his tongue faster as to try to find out which spot you meant or if it's the place he currently was remotely digging his wet muscle right into, his fingers dancing on your shuddering thighs.

you held your breath, kept yourself still and indulged in his mouth wrapping around your clit, suckling on your sickly sweet nerves, further eliciting the satisfying tingle on your skin.

"do you enjoy this?" zhongli heaved, for a second stilling his mouth on your soaked pussy while blowing cold air on the swollen flesh.

he tore every square of control off your body with his sly tricks, tore it off you without an inch of leniency, he was undoubtedly smothering into you and slurping off everything you had gifted him with.

"yes- yes!" a mewl, your response was weak, hardly to be distinguish, "i'm so close, baby." zhongli lightly snickered at your words that he personally found very cute, sweet and so fucking adorable, not to mention at how flustered he would become whenever you referred to him with a pet name.

his flattened tongue was now, dropped heavily into you, flashing its skill into your bristling spots when he moved his hand from your lower stomach to right above your clit, digging his thumb past the flesh to reach your sensitive blotches.

you jolted forward in surprise when he began to rub you fiercely in combination with his maddening strokes, holding you open while you were desperately clasping around his brown hair strands.

zhongli loved when you tightly seized your legs around his head, kept him there, how warm he felt on the inside, aside of how your thighs were perfectly fitting all throughout him, as if you were practically made for him by the heavens.

your slick was gathered on the lower side of his face with his chin taking most of it, the white, almost translucent essence was messily gushing from your flailing hole, your shaking moans coaxing him on to bring you over the edge so you can gingerly release on his face.

at another low groan, the vibrations of it all were hitting your deepest ends, tickling the dense twist in your belly as you started to use his head as you please, without warning feverishly grinding your pussy on his flattened tongue while his nose was ever so often filthily nudging your soiled cunt.

zhongli could only perceive your taste, his mind overtaken by your aura as he started to be surrounded by the natural scent of you.

his hands greedily grabbed onto you to fold you in half as he suddenly stood up from his seat, quickly shaking his head and sloppily lapping your pulsing folds.

"fu-fuck baby!" your attempted screaming fell on deaf ears, truly, the thought of someone catching you during the act was long since thrown out of the window, locked in a vault without caring for the possibility of a negative outcome.

the newfound intensity of his roughened flicks made your eyes dwell with hot tears, turning glassy as you closed them, yet a couple of tears still managed to escape as you approached your sweet release.

your jaw was straining, your mouth hanging low but nothing came out, but you tried, so hard to voice a single word to him, anything so zhongli would know how blissful he made you feel.

your walls tightly squeezed together when you bended your back off the sweat covered desk, your body losing on self control as you began to furiously shiver at your intense orgasm washing over you, catching the entirety of your nerves off guard.

zhongli groaned when he felt you release, slurped your filth off and indulged in you, thoroughly dragged his tongue on your throbbing cunt as he remotely tipped the tip in your tight hole, loudly swallowing your juices and honeyed cries.

he didn't move until you finished, plastering your swollen spots with open mouthed kisses, his warm breathing bringing out a chorus of whispery mewls from your throat.

zhongli was so proud, so persistent to make you cum and have you feel amazing because of him, after all you deserved it, deserved to be pampered and pleasured as much as you desired.

as he felt you calm down, he carefully lifted his head before lazily brushing your slick off with the back of his hand, drawing himself to your face to kindly look at you.

"it seemed you enjoyed yourself." he spoke, quite pleased with how much he was able to get our of you, lovingly dropping a small peck on your pouted lip when you continued to drag your hands over his hair, deepening the kiss.

"thank you for the meal." you sighed out a breathless laugh in surrender at his shameless words, a tiny bit embarrassed when you faintly tasted yourself on his tongue.

"you're crazy."

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fan fiction #genshin impact zhongli smut #genshin impact zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader smut

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kikker-oma · 3 months ago

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I made a small fic for this piece of art you did bc it stuck me with emotion and I couldn’t resist

the art:

Time walked through the inn hallways, carrying a glass of water for the traveller, who had succumbed to magic exhaustion and was resting peacefully for the time being. He heard a keening sob, and then a sniffle and paused, the water splashing slightly from the abrupt stop. He followed the sound to the room where the sailor, the smithy, and the captain were staying. Worriedly, he knocked on the door with his free hand. “What?” Came a worn, small voice and the old man’s heart stuttered.

“Can I come in?”

“I—“ A hiccup. “Yeah.”

He turned the knob and opened the door, stepping inside and examining the room, seeing the familiar blue tunic of the sailor’s and recognizing Wind, sitting on one of the bed’s with his legs dangling on the ground. He met Wind’s eyes and saw the tears and softened, closing the door shut as quietly as he could. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Time approached the kid slowly.

When all he got was a barely bit back sob he sat down next to the sailor and noticed he was clutching a telescope tightly to his chest, so tightly his knuckles were white. He didn’t press, merely laid a hand on his shoulder. And Wind looked back at the old man with streams of tears falling down his cheeks and dripping down his chin, his eyebrows pressed and he released his tense grip on the telescope holding it up slightly. “Y’know—sometimes I stay up…A-and I think about what she went through.”

She. Time held his breath, wondering who this girl was but also finding himself nearly at tears seeing and hearing this. Wind hiccuped again. “And—I th-think that.”

A sob tore its way out of the kid’s mouth and Time uttered something softly, a reassurance. Wind continued anyway. “It r-really should’ve been me.”

“No. I don’t know what happened, but you don’t deserve whatever was so bad that she went through.”

“My s-sister, she was kidnapped. She was only six years old—“ Wind gasped. “And she has nightmares of her time in a cell. I would’ve been able to handle it, old man. It should’ve been me.”

And didn’t that make Time’s heart ache more than ever. He hugged the kid. “She’s safe now, right?”

“W-well yeah…”

“Because you rescued her. Who would’ve been there to save you had you been in her stead?”

He got no reply, just a muffled hiccup. Time wiped the kid’s tears away. “We can’t change the past. And no matter what your mind may tell you, even though your sister has gone through a lot, she still has you, right? You’re both still alive.”

He wasn’t expecting a response. He wasn’t expecting anything from the poor kid right now.

Kids. These are just kids.

Time waited patiently, keeping the sailor company as he took in what was just said and continued to cry, until Wind spoke, saying, “This telescope is my sister’s. She let me borrow it, before she…Y’know got kidnapped but when I tried to give it back she insisted that I needed it more.”

“I see. She sounds kind.”

“She is. She helps out where she can and she comforts me when I have nightmares and Grandma isn’t there to,” Wind sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “Aryll’s the whole reason I’m out there, looking for a new place to call Hyrule. I just wish she hadn’t had to go through what she did.”

“I find myself wanting to meet her,” Time hummed. “Is she younger or older than you?”

“Younger. When she got k-kidnapped I was about 11.”

And so the old man stood up, and smiled softly back down at the sailor. “Would you like to check on the traveller with me? I was giving him some water.”

“Yes!” Wind smiled back, hopping up and following the old man through the inn.

I feel sick. These kids have gone through so much…because I wasn’t there. I abandoned them.

ASHAJAJAHFJF

Time comforting Wind is SO PRECIOUS!!!

Dad vibes DAD VIBES DAD VIBES!!!

Oh wind is such a selfless older brother, he cares so much and is so sacrificing out of love!

I adore that time doesn't expect anything from wind, just talks with him and comforts, and then gives him the option to help Hyrule totake his mind off of it. A nice distraction while also fulfilling the need to do more and help❤️

Oh but Tiiiiimmme don't you start feeling the same way!! Someone tell this man to listen to his own words!!

Thank you Uni, this was SUCH a lovely surprise!!!!!

#sweet uniquevoidflowers #eeeeeiiiiiii #i love this so much🥹🥹🥹#just the way you wrote them?! wind is so saaaad #i also wanna comfort him🥺#and time wiping his tears away?!#AAAAAHDJSK #love them #FAMILLYYYY #ive also sobbed over my siblings #I feel you windy my boy #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu wind #lu time #fics for oma

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lxndonorris · 2 months ago

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doubts - Max Verstappen

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: a little bit of everything cheering up Max after a frustrating qualifying session x word count: 2500+ taglist: @cloud-55 I needed that.... open for requests. Gif by @countingstars-17 thank you bub!

The motorhome is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the roar of engines that filled the air just a short while ago. The walls, adorned with racing memorabilia, framed photos of victories, and splashes of Red Bull blue, feel like a sanctuary from the outside world, a cocoon away from the glaring lights and curious eyes.

But now, the energy inside is tense and heavy, almost suffocating.

Max is sitting on the leather sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging down loosely as he stares at the floor. The upper half of his racing suit hangs limply around his waist, the fireproof undershirt clinging to his chest and back, soaked with sweat and frustration. His hair, usually slicked back, is tousled, his face a mix of fatigue and quiet anger.

The qualifying session was a disaster. A car that wouldn't behave, tires that wouldn't grip, and a series of small, infuriating mistakes left him far lower on the grid than he has any right to be.

And for a man who built his life on perfection, on pushing limits, on winning, this was unacceptable.

You watch him from the kitchenette, silently taking in his frustration, feeling the tension radiate off him in waves.

You know this side of Max well—the one who lives for the thrill of the race, who feels every setback as a personal failure. It hurts to see him like this, wound so tightly that he seems ready to snap.

You move quietly, almost hesitantly, from where you are standing, as if afraid any sudden movement might shatter the fragile silence that settled between you.

The sound of your footsteps is almost inaudible against the soft carpet, but you can feel Max's eyes flicker toward you as you approach.

"Max," you say softly, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

You reach out, resting a hand on his knee, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't respond either, his eyes still focused on the ground. You sense the storm brewing inside him—a mixture of exhaustion and self-recrimination—and you know you have to find a way to break through it.

"It wasn't your fault," you begin, your voice gentle but firm. "You did everything you could out there."

"Did I?" he mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice is low, rough, like gravel.

"Maybe if I had pushed harder or backed off in that last corner... maybe..." He trails off, his firsts clenching, the knuckles turning white.

You shake your head, even though you know he isn't really looking at you.

"You can't control everything, Max. Not the weather, not the track conditions, not even the car sometimes. You know that."

He sighs heavily, finally looking up at you, his blue eyes clouded with doubt and frustration.

"But I'm supposed to be able to handle it. That's what makes a champion, isn't it? Being able to deal with anything and everything?"

You give him a small, sad smile, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

"You're already a champion, Max. You don't have to prove that to anyone, least of all to yourself."

He closes his eyes at your touch, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension seems to drain away.

"I hate this feeling," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "This helplessness... like I'm not in control."

You lean in closer, sliding your hand from his knee to his stomach, feeling the taut muscles underneath the thin fabric.

"You're still in control, Max. Tomorrow is another day, another race. You can still turn this around."

He opens his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability that he rarely shows to anyone.

"How do you do that?" he asks quietly, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing it gently against his stomach.

"Do what?" You ask, your fingers tracing small, soothing circles on his skin.

"Make me believe it's going to be okay, even when everything feels like it's falling apart."

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of him—engine oil, sweat, and the faintest hint of his cologne.

"Because it is going to be okay," you murmur against his skin. "I believe in you, Max. And I'm not going anywhere."

He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. You feel the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.

It is just the two of you, cocooned in this small, private space, where nothing else matters.

When he pulls back, his eyes are softer, the tension in his body less pronounced.

"I don't deserve you," he says quietly, his voice tinged with self-reproach.

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"You deserve all the love and support in the world, Max. You give so much of yourself to this sport, to your team, to the fans... it's okay to let someone take care of you too."

He doesn't say anything; he just leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he lets out a slow, shaky breath.

You feel him slowly relaxing under your hands, the storm inside him beginning to calm. You shift closer, tucking yourself against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, your hand still tracing soothing patterns on his stomach.

You sit like that for a long time, the silence between you no longer heavy or oppressive but comforting, like a shared understanding. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythm of his breathing slowing as the tension ebbes away.

"Thank you," he whispers after a while, his voice soft, almost fragile.

You lift your head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"For what?"

"For being here. For knowing what I need, even when I don't."

You smile, snuggling closer to him.

"That's what I'm here for. You don't have to go through this alone."

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, his fingers gently brushing against your arm.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he admits quietly, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"You'll never have to find out," you reply, your voice equally as soft.

He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he breathes you in.

"I love you," he whispers, the words carrying the weight of everything he can't say, everything he feels but can't express.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love and affection for this man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders but still finds the strength to let you in.

"I love you too, Max. Always."

He smiles then, a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes, chasing away the last remnants of his frustration.

Leaning down, he captures your lips in a kiss that is slow, tender, and filled with unspoken promises.

Max's hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you even closer as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more insistent. You feel the last of his tension melting away, replaced by a different kind of heat, a desire that is as much about comfort as it is about connection.

You shift, sliding onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as you press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his chest against you.

His hands move to your waist, holding you there as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for affection, for touch, for the reassurance that he isn't alone.

You feel the fire in him, the same fore that drives him on the track, that pushes him to be the best, but here, with you, it is tempered by something softer, something more vulnerable.

It is a side of Max that few people ever see—a side that he only ever shows to you.

When you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other, you see the change in him.

The frustration and anger are gone, replaced by a calm determination, a quiet resolve that tells you he is ready to face whatever tomorrow will bring.

"I'm ready," he says softly, his hands still holding you close.

You nod, brushing a thumb across his cheek.

"I know you are. And I will be right there with you, every step of the way."

He kisses you again, a soft, lingering kiss that leaves you breathless.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he murmurs against your lips.

You smile again, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You don't have to do anything to deserve me, Max. You just have to let me love you."

He closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours.

"I can do that," he whispers.

As you shift on Max's lap, you let your fingers trace the contours of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his undershirt.

Your touch is slow, deliberate as you move just beneath his pecs, right where you know he is most sensitive. His muscles tense momentarily at the contact, a shiver running through him, but then you feel him relax, his head tilting back against the sofa with a deep, contented sigh.

You smile to yourself, enjoying the way his body responds to your touch—how even in the midst of his frustration, you could find that one spot that makes everything else melt away.

Your fingers dance lightly across his skin, just enough pressure to coax a reaction, but not too much.

You watch his eyes flutter shut, his breath hitches slightly before he lets out a soft growl of contentment.

"Mmm..." he murmurs, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. It is a low, rumbling noise that sends a thrill through you.

His hands move to cover yours, holding it against his chest as he opens his eyes to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The tension that gripped him earlier seems to have evaporated, replaced by a warmth and ease that is rare for him in moments like these.

"Right there," he whispers, his voice a mix of amusement and pleasure. "You always know exactly where to touch."

You grin, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I know you too well, Maxie."

He chuckles, the sound rich and deep, vibrating against your lips as he kisses you back.

"Not that I'm complaining."

"Good," you tease, brushing your thumb across his skin again, watching as his eyes darkened with that familiar spark of desire.

Max's smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he relaxes completely against the sofa.

The frustration and weariness from earlier melted away, leaving behind the man you know so well—the man who thrives on competition but also craves the simple comfort of touch and connection.

He sighs contently, the sound almost a purr, as you continue to stroke his chest.

"You have no idea how much I needed this," he admits, his voice soft and low.

You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "I think I do," you whisper, your breath warm against his skin.

He turns his head slightly, his lips finding yours in a slow, languid kiss that speaks of gratitude, affection, and something deeper.

When he pulls back, his eyes are bright, a smile playing at his lips.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his fingers trailing up and down your arm in a gentle soothing motion.

"Not for that."

As the warmth of your embrace lingers, you feel Max's breathing slow, the tension fully drained away from his body.

Sensing that he needs a moment of deeper comfort, you gently shift off his lap, sliding down to sit beside him on the sofa.

He looks up at you with a mixture of curiosity and contentment, the corners of his mouth still curved in that relaxed smile.

Without a word, you reach for him, your fingers threading through his hair as you gently pull his head down towards your lap.

Max doesn't resist, his body easily following the motion until he is lying down, his head resting comfortably against your thighs.

His eyes close as he settles in, a soft sigh escaping his lips, and you see him relaxing even more.

You look down at him, your heart swelling with love and tenderness for this man, so eager, so passionate, yet now he seems so at peace, so vulnerable in this moment.

You begin to caress his cheek, your fingers moving in slow, soothing strokes along the strong lines of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble that starts to form there.

Max leans into your touch, a soft hum of contentment vibrating in his chest. His body seems to melt even further into the sofa, his entire being surrendering to the comfort you are offering.

"This feels so goood..." he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You lean down slightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm glad," you breathe deeply, your fingers continuing their gentle dance across his skin. "You deserve to rest, Max. You work so hard, and sometimes... you need to let go."

His eyes flutter open, and he looks up at you with a gaze full of gratitude.

"It's easier with you here," he admits. "You make everything easier."

"That's what I am here for."

He reaches up, his hand covering yours where it rests on his cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a mirrored gesture.

Max's breathing grows even slower, deeper as the exhaustion of the day finally catches up with him. His eyes drift shut again, and you could see the lines of stress and worry smooth out as sleep begins to take hold.

You continue to caress his cheek, your touch light and gentle, hoping to keep him in this peaceful state for as long as possible.

Watching him like this, so calm and serene, you feel an overwhelming sense of love for him.

Max is so much more than the fierce competitor the world sees on track; he is kind, strong, vulnerable, and so incredibly human.

And it is moments like this that you feel closest to him, when he lets down all his walls and lets you in completely.

As you continue to stroke his cheek, your fingers moving in slow, rhythmic patterns, you whisper softly.

"I will always be here, Max. No matter what happens tomorrow or the day after, I'll be right here with you."

He doesn't respond, but the small smile that tugs at his lips tells you he heard you. His hand still rests over yours, warm and reassuring, even as sleep fully claimed him.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smut #fomula 1 imagine #max verstappen angst #mac verstappen fluff

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roanofarcc · 3 months ago

Text

PINKY PROMISE

pairing. javi rivera x reader

summary. trapped in a car as a horrifying 'fire-nado' rages towards you sends you into a panic and a fit of memories from the accident 5 years prior.

warnings. inaccurate movie scene. PTSD, mentions of injuries & characters' deaths. hurt/comfort. that fire-nado was crazy crazy.

word count. 1.4k || masterlist

Fear was something you had tried, time and time again, to swallow down and bury deep in hopes of getting rid of it all together. That was why you joined Storm Par under the impression that facing your fears was the only way to get over them; it had started to work too. Each time you faced down a tornado, you felt a little bit braver, and the tight knot of fear loosened just slightly.

It had been a long time since you felt the overwhelming, all-consuming, kind of fear you had that day underneath the overpass. The day your friends slipped from your grasp, even after you promised not to let them go. It used to come back in nightmares, but they had faded as the years passed. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you had a handle on it all.

A part of you worried that Kate being back would dredge up your fears and guilt, but it turned out to be more comforting than anything. And even though she was pissed at the less-than-ideal methods of Storm Par as a company, to which you didn’t fully know the ins and outs of, having her back felt like another step in the right direction.

Javi started Storm Par because of his own guilt, a desperate claw at a fresh start. You joined him on a whim, partly because your love for storms never left you despite the accident and partly because you missed him more than you cared to admit.

The two of you were on the verge of a relationship when the accident happened, two kids starry-eyed and full of love. Nothing happened afterward, the ties cut rather harshly as you, him, and Kate all tried to grieve on your own. But eventually, Javi found you again, and you didn’t plan on letting him go. You had to build back up to where you were, leading you back to the verge of a relationship but yet to fall into it, yet. But it was okay because you had plenty of time.

At least, you thought you did.

“Holy shit!” Javi gasped, wide-eyed as he gripped the steering wheel white-knuckled. Your heart beat against your chest, watching the tornado rage through an industrial site, getting swirled up in smoke and flames. You’d encountered a lot of storms, but never have you seen one catch ablaze like that one. The sky was a terrible wall of gray and orange, and even though you were inside the truck, it was hard to breathe.

With a shaky hand, you tapped on Javi’s shoulder, feeling that knot tighten as the wind picked up around you, beating like fists against the truck. “Get us out of here!” you shouted above the roar of blood in your ears.

He tried, he really did, but Mother Nature had other plans for you, Javi, and Scott. Before you could take off or even escape the confines of the truck, the entire thing flipped on its side.

A scream tore from your lips as you closed your eyes tightly, knocking your head against the door. Pain bloomed across the side of your head but what was more painful was the memories that forced their way to the front of your mind. All you could do was think about the accident, holding tight and teary-eyed. You felt your body shaking with sobs, but you felt disconnected. You felt back in college, thinking you were going to die.

Something brushed against your wrist, clumsily. In the distance, you heard someone call your name. At first, it sounded like Praveen, low and carried by the wind. His hand had reached out for yours as you all ran for the overpass. His fingers brushed your wrist before he was violently pulled away, along with a scream from your throat. But that time, the touch on your wrist didn’t leave. It stayed, frantically searching for your hand.

You forced your eyes open, half expecting to be back there, but you were still inside the truck with Javi’s arm twisted behind him from the driver’s seat to hold your hand.

“It’s o-okay,” he said, his voice shaky.

Scott’s labored breathing was the only noise he made for a long moment as the tornado, burning, raced too close. “We gotta…w-we-” he cut himself off as the noise grew impossibly loud.

You squeezed Javi’s hand tighter, tears blurring your vision, and braced for the worst. But somehow, the worst never came. The wind pushed on the truck, but it hit it just right, rolling it for a horrible moment before it was pushed back upright. Something mixed between a sob and a sigh left your lips as Javi dropped your hand and booked the dented and damaged truck the hell out of the way of the storm. He drove in the tense silence of the truck for a good while, until the coast was clear.

Pulling off to the side of the road, the three of you sat with nothing to say. It seemed like you all were fairly unscathed, but the knot inside of your gut was pulled so tightly that you felt like you were going to get sick.

Scott fumbled around in his pocket for his phone, muttering about calling the rest of their team. You hardly heard the words exchanged between him and Javi before you shoved open the door and stumbled out into the road, trying to get fresh air to reenter your lungs and calm you down.

A hand grazed your shoulder, and you flinched, spinning around to face Javi. Your body refused to stop shaking.

“Hey,” he said, softly. “Are you hurt?” You shook your head. You didn’t think you had hurt anything, but the awful feeling running through your veins was the only thing you could feel.

“That was close,” you whispered, not trusting your voice beyond that.

“Too close,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

You wiped your cheeks and tried to regain some composure, but when you glanced at your wrist, you caught sight of the bracelet you hadn’t taken off since your first day of college when a bright and smiling Addy appeared in your doorway with a bundle of friendship bracelet she was passing out to other students on the floor. Normally, it filled you with a sweet remembrance of the blonde, even after she died it brought you a strange sense of peace. But looking at it at that moment filled you with something else. The bone-breaking guilt and terror from that day lingered in the back of your mind like an unstable bomb, going off at the slight disturbance.

It brought more tears to your eyes against your will, causing you to bury your face in your hands.

Javi was quick, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. You cried into his shoulder, wetting the fabric of his uniform. The two of you stayed like that for a while, until your sobs subsided and the knot in your chest allowed you to breathe more steadily. When you pulled back, he loosened his grip around you but didn’t let you go. One arm stayed hooked around your waist as he used the other to wipe the tears tracked down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you said, a little embarrassed at your tense emotions. But Javi was quick to shake his head.

“None of that,” he said, brushing this thumb across the zigzagged scar that decorated your forehead, gained from the accident.

You raised your hand with the bracelet on it, a frown on your lips. “All I could think of was them.” Maybe you weren’t as healed as you thought you were.

Javi closed his eyes for a brief moment, lost in his own pool of memories for a moment before he looked back at you. “Me too,” he admitted before something flickered in his gaze, like he was trying to snap back into his current self and not the version from five years ago. “But we’re okay.” He raised his pinky finger up, a small smile playing on his lips. “And we still have each other.”

You hooked your pinky around his, your own little handshake/promise to each other. “Promise?”

He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, where your scar was, and said, “Promise.”

#javi twisters #twisters #twisters 2024 #javi x you #javi x reader #twisters fanfic #kate carter #anthony ramos

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