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muntitled · 1 year

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𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

: ̗̀➛ Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader | Brief!Harry Potter x fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ Summary: Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: Alcoholism, Dark!fic, Ravenclaw!reader, Bullying, Unrequited Love, Shy!reader, Toxic Relationship, Jealousy, Narcissism, Weaponizing!Harry (sorry boo), Fluff, A bit of Angst, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DubCon, Semi Public sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Dom/Sub, CNC, humping, Spitting, Degradation, Dacryphillia, Choking, Gagging, Subspace, Slapping, Sadism, Breeding Kink

5k words

A/N: Hell truly is empty. I apologise in advance.

You have made peace with the incomparable fact, long ago, that if the muggle God existed - if he is known to shepard Muggles and Wizards alike, then he was far too busy to attend to you. There is just too much going on all at once. The wizarding world is caught in its archaic intolerance of Half-Bloods. On the mortal side, you were informed from your private tutoring with Professor McGonagall that their smartphones are threatening devolution.

“It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a wand, Lovie, so we can’t really fault them on that, can we?” 6 years into your schooling at Hogwarts and you would continue to shadow Professor McGonagall, hoping you might one day soar to her heights of academic prestige in the wizarding world. You needed to be a Professor as much as a mortal needs to breathe….

You cannot let him, of all people, ruin things. Your reputation is a fragile, flammable thing - and he is freaking Kerosene.

It's difficult to pinpoint when it started or how your sensibilities rushed away from you so swiftly. One moment you’re planting your textbook on the face of a wooden desk - the sound reaching the rafters in the highest peak of the deserted classroom…

“A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration.” Mattheo read the title aloud with a tedious uninterested drawl. “Seems a bit presumptuous to shove this down my throat so early on. Shouldn't we be starting from the beginning?"

You ignored him promptly, using the silence to arrange your colour coordinated stationery on your desk beside Riddle's,

“I had no idea," You began, brushing off your blue lined robes and flattening the invisible creases on your skirt, "-That the person residing under my tutelage would be a first year."

Riddle stabbed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your face remained passive as you continued, "You are a sixth year, correct?” You asked with a snide tilt of the head before planting yourself on the desk beside him.

“You are a big boy capable of understanding big boy books,” Unbeknownst to you, your words managed to stir something foreign within Mattheo but he conceals it with his usual veneer of arrogance as he swings his head lazily in your direction.

"May we begin?" You asked, with your back straightened - inches away from his hand now hanging on your chair.

"In a bit…" he says, "Just..." his voice trails off as his eyes scan over your visage, likely assessing it like an unseen tapestry. The truth is, Riddle did not know you prior to being forced under your tutelage. His droopy brown eyes appeared even more so as he broke the distance between you two and studied you closer. A tense silence grew pregnant in the ancient classroom, and your resolve was beginning to slip. Only one thought inflated a puddle of anxiety in your stomach:

Could this be your first kiss? Is this what first kisses looked like? Could this be your very first brush of intimacy overall?

Your brain failed to rationalise and compartmentalise his attraction, but your heart pushed your head closer.

"Call me a big boy again..." He had whispered… which evidently led you here.

Your lesson had ended with your hand covered in his release and a breathless smirk painted across his face. "This goes without saying," he breathed out with a satisfied smirk, "But tell anyone about this, and you're dead."

Ever since that day, your tutoring has been but a veneer of something much more sinister. When you were thrusted into the light of day, Mattheo overlooked you as did lots of his Slytherin friends. Besides the occasional threat and vague insult, you mean nothing to him.

When you two are alone, however, as you are right now, he would enchant you into servitude, lightly pushing your head down while he kissed you silly until your knees were planted on the hardwood floor.

Mattheo briefly opens his eyes to peer down at you. It is then when you notice the fresh bruise dotting the side of his face, and his pillowy lips split by a small incursion. He had very clearly gotten into another fight..

“Your mouth feels so fucking good when you're not using it to be a smart ass,” His words illicit a bubble of heat inside you.

Despite all this, you are clearly aware of the fact that you should not be enjoying this at all. Not one bit. For starters, you can feel the old wooden floors digging into the meat of your knees and the crisp winter chill is unkind to your scantily dressed state. Your shirt is unbuttoned because Mattheo was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to your ample breasts and his hand is buried tightly in your kinky curls, forcing his cock even further down your throat. The very bones of Hogwarts seem to be in vehement protest of your blatant whorishness.

3 silver chains hang from his neck as he plants his other hand against the wall behind you, blocking your kneeling frame between both him and cold, hard stone. You crane your neck back, keeping a half lidded gaze on the jewelry that drives you feral with lust. You are content imagining that perhaps, when he is getting ready in the slytherin common rooms, he wears the silver for you. A fanciful thought but one that consistently has your intestines weaving themselves into knots.

That, paired with his striking, jet black blazer, which is discarded somewhere in the abandoned classroom, has you keening and fighting to take even more of him into your mouth. Perhaps you were peacocking a little - flatting your tongue so his cock slid seamlessly to the back of your throat while you fought to ignore the pain blossoming on your scalp. He had turned you from an inexperienced nun to something you're not quite ready to examine yet.

"You're finally putting this head of yours to good use…" Despite his feigned arrogance you're utterly delighted knowing that only you can bring Mattheo to such an utterly restless state. He does not really know what to do with himself.

Not when you took so much of him, so well.

You clench your toes.

Feeling himself get too close, Mattheo eases his cock fully out of your mouth, languidly stroking himself but still assuming a firm grip on your scalp. He is operating on that very specific plain of narcissism that was special to Mattheo. He is aware of your presence, physically, but his words are spoken into the open air, like you are an inanimate object. A glorified toy.

"Are all Ravenclaws as compliant as you are?”

You bring a crisp white sleeve up to your lips, wiping away the excess drool as you remain kneeled in front of him, knowing he has yet to finish.

"If you ever think of finding out," your voice is hoarse, "this will be the last time I offer you any free study sessions."

"Is money all you seek?" He attempts to feign composure, continuing to languidly stroke his cock. "How utterly greedy. I thought- fuck… - I thought you were far more philosophical than that"

You watch hungrily as Mattheo bites on his pillowy bottom lip. He is prolonging the release, taking his time as he usually did... "If you plan on edging yourself in my mouth instead of actually finishing the job, I do have other commitments to attend to-"

He ignores you... his brows furrowing and smoothening at odd intervals as he continues to touch himself while studying you.

"We may not be studying… but I still intend to pass Transfiguration, hope you're aware." He punctuates his sentence with an breathless laugh- it blossoms across his usually stoic visage, raising his buttercup cheekbones towards his smiling eyes.

As he talks, you examine his scars and feel the slow essence of admiration seep into the pit of your stomach. An arguably pathetic feat, given that your feelings will not ever be reciprocated.

Brewing inside you is the need to take care of him. You knew the rest of the student body viewed Mattheo as a glorified parasite. Something that is only capable of thinking within the capacity of its own means. Something that takes, and takes, and occasionally jokes around, and takes. But how could he know anything different? You suspected that his home life was built on the foundation of survival, on needing to be the loudest, and proudest, and worst of them all.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The sharpness of his words slice through your thoughts, bringing you back to yourself. Mattheo's gaze is placed firmly on something down below. Throughout his mindless tirade, your hand had taken to rubbing soft, comforting circles against the leg of his pants, quite literally on its own accord. Mattheo is bent over, head tilted as he watches you questioningly. Seconds stretch to a minute, and your stomach sinks as time passes.

Eventually, he dismisses you. He shakes his head. "Whatever," He says, tilting your head back and lining your mouth with the head of his cock once more. His visage darkens into a cruel sadistic grin. "Tell me you want me to come in your mouth."

Almost instinctively, you do as he orders and like clockwork, you swallow his cum, wondering if he knew how deeply and truly your words actually were. There was a moment, perhaps imagined, in which his fingers gripping your hair, melted to the side of your soft, supple cheek. It stays there for longer than necessary, leaving bits and pieces of your composure scattered in its wake.

Mattheo soon straightens his posture, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his pants before making himself as presentable to the student body as they know him to be (which admittedly is not a lot) And before he turns to walk away, he leaves you stranded on a glacier with his ice cold words cutting deep into your beating heart.

"Tell anyone about this-"

"And I'm dead," You interject, "I know."

And with that, you pull your ruffled collar over your lint-free school jersey and check your reflection to assess the damage Mattheo and his iron grip might have left. You needn't wait for an extension on the conversation because your job here was done, (pun so malevolently intended).

As far as Mattheo is concerned, you are an easy conduit to release his frustrations through because your unpopularity makes you so incredibly inconspicuous. You blend into any given crowd at any given moment, your name seldom reaching the heights of ridicule among his group because you are so unforgettable… There had been no reason to point out your flaws, not because you did not have any, but because you were simply invisible.

It is particularly strange to have any social interaction beyond the bounds of group projects and class discussions… so Harry Potter gifting you even a sliver of attention had been violently unorthodox. So unorthodox, in fact, you failed to look up from the weathered pages of your novel when his gentle voice wafted in your direction during a rare free period in Study of Ancient Runes. Your professor has been summoned quite promptly by the headmaster and has yet to return. The class has been in a state of havoc ever since.

"I don't know if you're aware of this but…" A deep shadow over the pages alerted you to his presence, "They both die at the end."

It was incredibly rare that Potter, who sat at the desk directly in front of you, ever felt the need to strike up conversation that was not purely academic. Gryffindors made use of Ravenclaws as often as Slytherins.

So naturally, you peer curiously up at him…

"Sorry?"

"Y-Your book. It's a muggle book, isn't it? I haven't seen anything with a cover like that around here. It's refreshing. Everything in the wizarding world is ancient and leatherbound." He mumbles as his index finger slides into the collar of his red quidditch jersey. He finds himself suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment even though there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about… he turns his chair slightly in your direction, his eyes darting to the door and the empty teacher's seat before meeting yours once more.

"'They Both Die At The End." He says, pointing towards the title.

"Oh…" You affirm, rocking your head back and forth, "You were making a joke?"

"No," Harry snickers before waving a large hand in dismissal, "Evidently, the only thing I 'made' was a complete and utter fool of myself."

You're not sure when it happens but you feel the lower half of your face melting into what you suspect is a smile. You can feel your shoulders relaxing and your novel lowering imperceptibly.

"Work on your delivery next time and maybe we'll be getting somewhere."

"Is that how it is!?" Harry asked, pleasantly surprised by your banter, "- I could've sworn I had a shred of dignity before the start of this conversation. Now I'm not quite sure where that went."

Mattheo's feet pass over the threshold as soon as the sound of your laughter rushes past him. It is almost charming in its familiarity but incredibly curious in its rarity. He can't recall ever seeing you with your head thrown back while the instinctive sound of amusement races through your throat. He does not know he's staring until Draco shoves past him, to get to their own seats in the front of the class.

His eyes remain on you as he makes his way to his desk, hoping, perhaps, that you would turn your head infinitesimally, in acknowledgment of his presence.

You do nothing of the sort, and it not only fills him with a weird sort of dissatisfaction but it bubbles into full blown vexation when he realises who is capturing your attention so viscerally.

Mattheo has never prided himself on his patience or tolerance.

Overthinking is something he consistently lives without.

Most of his actions were spurred from things he felt in the now, and he was really fucking uncomfortable with what was happening now.

His glances at the front of the class before finding you once more in the very back corner of the class. He notices that Harry is stationed in front of you but the seat beside you is completely deserted.

Did you not have friends?

And more importantly; how did he never notice until now?

What if…

Perhaps if he…

"You didn't let me know we were having a picnic," The sound of a chair scraping against the tiles had both you and Harry rallying into silence. Mattheo appears at your side, pushing the chair against yours so he, too, sits facing Potter - who suddenly appears incredibly uneasy. Gone is the comfortable atmosphere cooked by easy and amicable conversation. Mattheo injecting himself into your little bubble created a suddenly charged and suffocating atmosphere. You cannot keep your wide eyes off Mattheo as he lowers himself to his chair beside you with his legs spread as he slouches down, like he always does.

"Don't stop on my accord," He exclaims, completely oblivious to the fact that your professor might walk in at any minute. "What were we talking about?" Your heart wrestles in your chest as you see him turn to address you. His slouching puts him a level lower than you, but it does nothing to lessen his intimidation.

"Maybe I should ask, Potter?" Mattheo turns his attention to the front, "What were you lot talking about?" There is not a trace of friendliness present in Riddle's tone. In fact, it's the very opposite. Your nerves, swelling with anxiety, only escalate into full-on panic when you feel him place a large hand on your skirt under the table.

Harry's voice is low and his eyes are trained on the floor, "Books-"

"Books!" Mattheo cuts him off with sarcastic fervour, "How utterly fascinating!" The hyperbolic wonder in his tone is utterly rude and unbecoming, but you look down at your desk in blatant anger. Refusing to be a part of whatever this is.

"And tell me, Potter, how many books have you read so far?"

It is then that Riddle's once stationary hand begins the faintest trace of movement. He begins slow and tame, his callouses barely registering on the soft fabric until his fingers prod the lining of your skirt…

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Never had Mattheo ever displayed a desire to touch you. Not in the way he made you touch him. It was made explicitly clear that only he would benefit from your secret rendezvous' and so you were left to deal with your aching cunt alone, with the image of the face he made when he came, still burned into your mind. It had never been about you.

"A couple,'' says Harry, fighting to show this bully that he was unaffected by his intimidation. If only he knew that with every advance Mattheo's palm made, you were slipping farther and farther away.

"A couple books?" Asks Riddle for clarity. He remains lax and languid on the inside, but the nature of his wandering hand underneath the desk tells a new story.

He finally slips under your skirt.

His palm connects with the softness of your thighs and he seems utterly pleased by it. His hand is immediately restless to explore how far you would let him go. Which isn't very far.

Not at all.

If he thought he could suddenly touch you after myriad occasions of using you like a discarded toy… he had another thing coming.

The tips of Mattheo's fingers make gradually increasing strokes along your thigh until his fingers prod the stretch marks on your inner thigh. It is there when you stop him, clenching your legs together, blocking his hand from any further movement.

Mattheo's voice is strained as he says, "And you like reading, Potter?"

Sensing something brewing between the two of you - your withdrawn, hazy gaze, staring directly through the desk and Mattheo's overabundance in questions, has Harry reeling backwards.

"I asked you a question, Harry."

"I like reading."

"Good! That's really good!" Quite suddenly, Riddle tilts the ends of his half-moon nails into your thigh. His nails bite into your skin, forcing them to weaken and unclamp. Before you're even able to think, his palm is cupping your cunt through your panties- forcing an indecent yelp from your throat which you quickly (and very badly) disguise as a cough.

Mattheo is utterly pleased while he continues mindlessly stroking your cunt. Not for the purpose of any glorious stimulation. His hand is just there to show you (and perhaps maybe himself) that he has access to the most private part of you.

That thought alone has an unforeseen and sudden wave of lust coursing through his veins and surging straight to his hardened cock. He thinks of all the things he could have done to you but failed to do. He thinks about how, up until this point, he had ever been satisfied with using your mouth alone, not when he was denying himself the softness of your pussy all along.

He felt angry with himself, for being so fucking stupid, he is angry at Potter for seeing whatever it is he saw in you, way before he did and, possibly most harrowing of all is the fact that he is angry with you. And he can't help but be angry at you. How easily you whore yourself out to any and every man. If this thing with Potter had gone far enough, would you replace him? Had you even fucked Potter before?

You bite down on your lower lip as your head bows even further into your book. The words blend into one another, and all you can feel is a rise in temperature and Mattheo's suddenly restless fingers, pressing rudely against your clit - for the sole purpose of ripping an orgasm out of you right then and there, at the very back of an unsupervised classroom, with Harry Potter still very much a part of the conversation.

"You've got so many books to read in your lifetime," Says Mattheo. He sits up slowly, likely spurred on by the dampness seeping through your panties. "Don't cut your long life short by trying to entertain other people's girlfriends, yeah?" Gone are any traces of feigned friendliness. "Fucking Mudblood,"

Your skin feels like you are bathing in magma and you hope Potter could not see the slight tremor in your hand as you gripped the sides of your book with more force than necessary.

Mattheo's words… they have you shifting forward and widening your legs minutely. You crave for nothing more than to roll your hips in tandem with the circles he's pressing against your clit.

"Understood?"

Your orgasm is dangerously close, with the promise of sheer, disgusting shame and embarrassment if he continues. You feel Harry give you one final curious look, perhaps pleading for an interjection of denial at some point but you've taken to bouncing your knee under the table, hoping the vibrations might create enough friction to aid Mattheo's hands. He is keeping you trapped in a space of wanting. So much so, that this almost feels like a punishment.

Once Harry is turned back around and facing the front of the class, Mattheo lowers his lips to your ears. The damp smell of firewhiskey floods your nostril and you realise that he is completely drunk. In the second lesson of the day.

However, you're so completely stimulated, even the warmth of his breath as you fight the urge to hump into his hand like a lost little puppy until you make a mess all over his hand.

"You're such a fucking slut, you know that?" Your book drops to your desk - muffled by the sounds of the classroom cacophony. "You like being humiliated like this?" He asks, almost in complete awe. It takes everything in you not to moan outright.

"Fuck," You whisper to yourself, blinking your eyes shut, warding off the need but to no avail. His fingers are long and limber, and they have you nearly cumming right there, in front of your entire fucking class. Had it not been for your Professor's haphazard arrival into the class, and the swift removal of Mattheo's fingers from between your legs… you might truly have become the slut he labelled you as.

Instead of moving to his designated seat, Riddle raises his hand for the professor… the very same hand that has previously been in between your legs.

"Yes, Mr Riddle?" Asks the Professor, his voice as lacklustre as his appearance.

"May we be excused? We were excused by Professor Slughorn to assist him in-"

"Fine, fine," Says the professor with a wave of dismissal before turning his attention to the rest of the class. "The rest of you, open your textbooks to page 56."

Riddle's hand is clamped around your forearm, already leading you swiftly out the door in a long and wide stride. Had it been any other teacher at all, they might have recognized this for what it so clearly was.

"Here," you have barely made it fully into the boy's bathroom before Mattheo is stuffing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and yelp at the sudden intrusion. "Tell me how good you taste." He doesn't even bother to make sure you're truly left alone in the bathroom before pushing your front against the bathroom sink.

"Is that good?" His voice is as sweet as honey as he forces his fingers deeper down your throat, causing you to cough and gag around them.

Mattheo has half his sense to pull his wand from his back pocket, and without turning around, whispers "Colloportus," and the heavy doors snap shut.

You're supposed to be afraid because you've never seen him like this. Mattheo is always a ball of sarcastic energy between trysts, but it's usually an energy he can somewhat contain.

You don't know what to do with him, not when he's watching you choke on his fingers through the mirror, while his other hand fondles at your breasts and rips your bra down until your nipples are poking through your school shirt.

The figure in the mirror distorts as your eyes begin to water. Thick beads of tears grow pregnant at the ends of your eyes before rolling down the side of your face.

"My girl," Mattheo presses his face into your hair, breathing you in, pressing his body into your side. His hard cock in unmistakable through his school pants, "My messy little girl,"

You finally moan candidly while your fingers grip the countertops and your hips buck into nothingness. Your eyes plead with him in the mirror, hoping they relay how utterly useless with lust you have become. It would not take hard work to make you cum, you're sure one more flick against your material-clad nipples might send you over the edge.

"Fuck, why didn't I think of this sooner,"

This is all new, even for the two of you.

"Spread your legs." He commands, even though his feet are already kicking them apart.

"Come here," you break eye contact in the mirror to face the boy behind you. Mattheo removes his fingers sitting in your mouth, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake before replacing it with a long and messy kiss- one that has his tongue forcing itself inside.

Mattheo weaponizes your distraction to reach around and slide your panties to the side with one hand while he rubs your soft nub with his other, spit-coated hand.

You break away from the kiss, neck craning back and mouth hanging open while your eyebrows dissolve into crescents. You cannot look away from him, as you hump his hand.

"You wanna cum?" You nod enthusiastically. "And what if I told you, you can't cum until I've fucked that little pussy of yours? Hm? What then?" His words have you mewling from the sheer pleasure they bring and your orgasm threatens to snap once more.

"Fuck," He hisses, feeling unable to remove his hand from your wet cunt but needing to, in order to undo his belt and pull his aching cock out. "Don't you dare fucking touch yourself," He says in a deadly quiet voice before bringing his hand up to your mouth. "Spit." You don't ever think of disobeying him, not when you're swimming so deeply in your subspace, not when he's the one to bring you here.

Mattheo collects every bit of saliva you offer him before coating his cock in the stuff.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, he does what his body is screaming for him to do: he bends you over the bathroom sink and pushes cock right through your slippery folds. It's tense and painful and your voice is hoarse from doing all that screaming but the sudden contact strokes a deeply sated part inside yourself. His curved and pretty cock rams your insides with reckless abandon, all while he delivers small slaps against your cheek. Riddle keeps a firm grip on your throat. His mouth is inches away from you while his hips rut into yours. His words are being delivered through clenched teeth.

"You think you're so fucking smart but you're just my little whore, arent you? A little whore thst fucks anything that gives her the slightest bit of attention?" It doesn't even register that Mattheo wrongfully suspects that there had been something between you and Harry but you keep your mouth shut. For all his indifference in the past, this is how you would make him pay.

"Oh~ fuck." His cock bruises your cervix, leaving him balls deep and feral inside you. "Fucking Potter?! You wanna give what's mine, to fucking Potter?!" His voice is utterly depraved and animalistic and it has your orgasm cresting.

He is panting, while he mumbles into your ear.

"What would Potter think? If he saw you like this? What would he think? Would he still want your slutty pussy knowing I've been inside it? Knowing that I've cum so deep inside you? Completely ruining you for anyone else, huh?"

"You…" The tears threaten to spill, "It's only ever been you, Mattheo -oh my god! I'm so fucking close!" You fight down tears as the lava begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach.

"S-Say it again. Tell me you want me!" He exclaims, "Tell me you fucking need me."

"Oh my God, Mattheo, I fucking need you." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His voice wavers after your confession. His strokes became sloppy. His mind is flooded with the tightest of your cunt around his cock- how someone so smart could possibly ever say they need him. It has a flood of heat pooling at the base of his cock. "You're so fucking pretty… my pretty girl - my pretty whore," He nods to himself while his heavy cock finds purchase in a specific clump of sensitive tissue inside your cunt. It has you clamping your own mouth shut, your arms wavering while your back arches towards him, only allowing him better excess.

"I need you," You say once more, swallowing a ball of saliva as you nod towards him through the mirror, "I need you to cum inside me."

"Oh my fucking god," Mattheo's eyes soften in their desperstion, "M'gonna fucking breed pussy right here- fuck!" His grip on your throat grows tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. You hump his cock until you feel it twitch inside you.

"Y-Youre making me cum, baby- fuck-" You feel his hot cum spurting inside your walls, triggering your own orgasm that has you gripping his cock like a vice.

"So… so pretty" His hips stutter against yours until you've completely drained him of his cum. A sharp tremor settles over your bones and you gasp in vague increments, waiting for the overwhelming state of euphoria to subside… but it never does.

The weight of what you had done comes crashing back down but you are unable to feel anything besides an immense wave of satisfaction at having your deepest need satiated.

"I think I nearly killed Potter today." His voice is a hoarse echo within the school bathrooms.

"There is no Harry Potter," You say, watching him through the mirror, "In my whole world, there is only ever you, Mattheo."

And a part of him believes you, but he refuses to affirm something as emotionally stifling as that. Instead, Mattheo's eyes flutter shut as his nose finds your hair once more. His cock is still buried inside you, and you hiss as he moves his hips slowly, almost insitinvely. He loves being so wholly enveloped by you. He loves feeling you everywhere.

5K notes · View notes

livin4woso · 21 days

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Never meet your hero (alexia putellas x teen!reader)

Summary - After transferring to Barcelona, the reader just wants to impress their idol, yet no matter how hard they try, it won't ever be enough. Alexia only realises their admiration when they accidentally push themselves too far.

Growing up womens football was rarely spoken about but if you dug for it you could find the media and thats when you in 2019 stumbled across alexia putellas a Barcelona midfielder with promising talent to be one of the greats.

You quickly found yourself trying to be like her and while she was claiming more accolades and fame to the name putellas; you were climbing the ranks of Chelsea academy football fast and not realsing you too were making a name for yourself.

Then it happened at 17 years old. You had somehow managed to gain the attention of Barcelona for a 4 year-long contract after making your professional debut for Chelsea just 8 months beforehand. Now, this raised some spectacle across the Barcelona team, and the fans, as you were young, couldn't speak spanish, which wasn't an issue but to compete with the stacked Barcelona midfield full of ballon d'or winners and major tournament winners was where people wondered how good you were.

Even you wondered how you were going to fit into the midfield, but playing with your football hero who made you change your playing style to the one that made you succeed was another type of pressure. You wanted to impress her and not seem like some scrawny teenager who had been given way too big of boots to fill.

You had arrived in Barcelona and the club hadn't wanted you to live on your own so the only other native english speaking member of the team keira was happy to let you crash at hers for your first year. "Im so sorry for crashing in your apartment for the next year, man. i swear I'll be clean around the place, and you know, help out," you told her as you were unpacking your belongings into her spare bedroom. "Honestly y/n its fine. Don't stress about it, it'll be nice to have some company in the place," she said with a warm smile.

You had spent the week before training at keiras just to settle into the area and get a grip on the basics of spanish and some catalan phrases which wasnt going the best for you or keira who was trying to teach you. It was finally time for you to start training with the team after far too many medical and fitness tests the team made you do. Keira was driving you there, and you had started to feel the nerves build in your chest as it finally hit you that you were meeting your idol and many other players who you deeply admired.

You had stood in the changing room waiting for the rest of the girls and as you stood you were using your hand to try to flatten out the creases on your training top and pushing back the fly aways from your hair to make yourself more presentable. Meeting the team wasn't as scary as you had thought it would have been. Everyone was friendly and kind to you, greeting you with smiles and shaking your hand until you were faced with alexia.

She was rather stoic in her features, and she was rather intimidating, but she was going to be your captain anyway so you just had to deal with it "hi im y/n erm sorry about not knowing spanish yet im trying too." You said as you tried not to stare at the floor as nerves dripped through your words "its fine im alexia, you're new captain" thats all she said back to you and ignored your hand that you held up for a handshake you thought maybe it was her lack of english but you let it slide.

As the weeks progressed, alexias attitude never changed towards you she would laugh and joke with vicky pina and patri, yet when you were around, it was like she could flick a switch of pretending you weren't there or would just blankly ignore you. It had started to get under your skin as you had took extra spanish lessons to fit in and would spend extra hours in the gym to be better to get better so she could appreciate you as a team member.

It had reached international break, and unfortunately, you hadn't been selected, which you had expected, and you had to practically beg keira. You would be fine on your own for the next 2 weeks. That was a lie in those 2 weeks you had worked yourself to the bone training and in the gym every moment of the day and while you thought this would be a positive you had been neglected your bodys health by not eating enough; by this point you were only eating dinner and a few random snacks just too make sure you weren't going to starve to death.

The change wasn't too noticeable, so it was nothing anyone was going to flag off as unhealthy behaviour, which led you to believe you were doing the right thing to be better for alexia, for her approval. You wanted to prove you could be like vicky or patri or anyone else in the team because to you she was your everything and yet she only saw a teenager but she didn't release she was treating you like an outsider.

Alexia putellas the la renia she had a reputation and she saw potential in you she did but she thought a tough love approach would make you a better player yet she had took it to another level that she didn't realise. She never noticed the way your shoulders dropped when she wouldn't compliment a good goal in training or the way tears welled in your eyes when she wouldn't joke on with you like the other girls. She was oblivious to it until it took a turn for the worst.

You were working yourself into the ground, and it was clear you weren't going to stop until someone told you to. These unhealthy habits had continued but not to the extreme when keira had returned from international break. They were so subtle that unless you were looking for it, it would be noticeable.

It was a Wednesday training session, and after an early gym session, it was time for field work, which was your favourite time of training. However, you should have noticed it your passes were sloppy. Your movements were slower than normal, and you just couldn't hit the target of the net. Then it happened it was during quick fire 5v5 games with the mini goal 6 minutes on, then 6 minutes off.

It was just your luck that you had been chosen to mark alexia, and it was round 3 of the games when something didn't feel right. You looked to receive the pass from esmee to turn and move forward when all of a sudden everything went so fast you couldn't comprehend it. Your body became heavy, and so did your eyelids, and that was it. You lost all control of your body, and it collapsed in on itself to a bonless pile on the pitch.

Meanwhile for alexia it was the opposite it was like slow motion she was stood opposite you waiting to defend your play when you missed the ball completely and your body went dropping to the ground with quite a loud thud which caused the game to be stopped immediately. She was hunched over you, trying to make you regain consciousness by lightly shaking your shoulder. The medics raced onto the pitch. However, alexia wouldn't budge from her spot next to you she needed to know if you were okay.

There was a ringing in your ear which had changed to a mix of voices and random spanish words which you could translate but not in the disoriented state you were in at the moment. You tried to open your eyes, but it was like looking directly into the sun, and the only thing you could understand coherently was alexias voice "y/n are you okay?" She asked you, her voice laced with concern "mmh what happened?" You asked back groggily to her."You don't remember you just passed out onto the floor, " she said to you, and it had set panic of within you shit. im done for.

You had managed to be hauled to your feet with your body weight being supported by alexia, and you couldn't tell if she was doing this because she cared or rather it was captains duties. You were now sat on the medical table after being forced to chug a bottle of water and an energy gel. However, alexia still hadn't left your side while it was strange to you it was rather comforting. The medical staff had ran quite a few tests on you to figure out the cause of why you passed out. However, you knew why your body was physically exhausted, but you were also mentally exhausted.

"So miss y/l/n it seems that the cause of your collapse was your body being overworked and a lack of the correct nutrition. We've noticed you have a slightly decrease in body weight however you have been adding up to 6 hours extra training a week we have on record." The medic stated and well it wasnt a suprise to you but too alexia she was shocked you could be doing this to yourself. "Y/n this isn't healthy why have you been training so much extra?" Alexia states to you but unfortunately you couldn't be professional on your response you told her the truth.

"Because im clearly not good enough for you or the team all i wanted was you to appreciate me on the team yet you hate me. I learnt spanish for you i tried so hard for you to notice me yet everytime you see me you blank me or frown at me and i want to know how can i be better" the words tumble out of your mouth as tears threaten to fall down your face. And in that moment alexia could feel her heart break she was the reason you had worked yourself to the bone for her and she had treat you like a piece of gum on her shoe. "Y/n im so sorry i thought that if i was tough on you, you would improve under pressure but it was really wrong of me im so sorry I'll try to be better for you because its not fair for you" she said to you.

"Well it doesn't matter anymore i dont care about you and your opinion and im done trying for you because its clear i dont matter to you" you shouted storming out of the medical office where keira was waiting in the car to take you home. The ride home was a tense one as keira had found out about your unhealthy behaviour, but you didn't need a lecture as she could tell you knew it was wrong.

Since then alexia was much nicer to you however it had never been the same you hadn't seeked out for the validation of alexia you had realised that praise is awarded and not always found when looking for. While you had never found the love to forgive alexia for your rocky start to your time in barca she had found solace in watching you progress and prove that she knew she was right to recommend you to transfer in the first place but she wouldn't ever tell you it was her because you needed to become your own player rather than tagging along to be the next alexia putellas.

#woso #woso x reader #wsl #woso imagines #barca femeni #alexia x reader #kiera walsh #barca femini x reader #woso blurbs #woso community #alexia putellas

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sturnioz · 1 month

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shy!matt finds himself struggling when you show off your new outfits.

"what do you think about this one?" you ask, stepping into your bedroom in your new skirt, admittedly a lot longer than your usual style, but with the cold, crisp air settling in, you wanted to be as warm, prepared and cute as possible — choosing a pretty midi skirt with delicate floral patterns that sway gently with your movements.

matt lounges on your bed, his back propped against the headboard, one leg casually crossed over the other, and he's absorbed in his phone, scrolling through his social media feed, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face.

when he hears your voice, his eyes dart up, and he tilts his head to the side, taking in your look. a soft giggle escapes his lips, breaking the momentary silence.

"you um, look like a librarian or somethin'," he says, and when you respond with an unimpressed look, he fidgets, his smile turning sheepish as he backtracks, "a comfy librarian?"

"yeah, yeah, whatever." you murmur, tugging off your skirt with a huff and tossing it aside. matt chuckles softly, but he respects your privacy, returning his focus to his phone as he settles more comfortably on your bed, waiting for you to try on the next skirt.

the next one is shorter than what you were expecting — but paired with thick tights or even some thigh-highs, you're almost positive that the length of the skirt and the chilly air wouldn't be too much of a problem.

you smooth the black fabric with your hands, flattening out the creases as you gently call out matt's name, eager to hear his thoughts. when he looks up, his phone slips from his fingers, tumbling to the bed as his gaze locks onto your bare thighs. his mouth falls open in stunned surprise, shyness crawling over his features.

your eyebrows knit together at his odd behaviour, waiting for his approval or disapproval, but then you notice it — the unmissable tent in his pants.

"it's good, s'great," matt chokes out, his voice strained as he clears his throat. he rubs his clammy palms on his thighs, desperately averting his gaze to a random spot on the wall as he swallows thickly. "yeah, uh, that one — it's um, yeah.. s'nice."

"nice?" you repeat, a smirk spreading across your face as you glance down at the skirt, playfully tugging at the hem. "don't you think it's a little.. short?"

"short—yeah, s'kinda.. short. a little — yeah," matt stutters, nodding rapidly while blinking as if trying to clear his head. he reaches for your pillow behind him, laying it over his lap, fingers tugging at the pillow cover as though it could hide his embarrassment. "but it — it's pretty, y'know. nice."

you can't help but laugh softly, enjoying the way he fumbles for words, his shyness only making you feel more confident. you take a step closer to the bed, leaning forward slightly.

"pretty, hm? you like it?"

matt's eyes widen, and he shifts beneath the pillow awkwardly, his gaze flickering back to your legs for just a moment before he quickly looks away again. "yeah — yeah, i like it. s'just different, y'know? you... i like it."

you lean in more, lowering your voice to a sultry whisper. "you can look, matt... it's okay."

he stills for a moment, caught off guard. then, with a subtly shift of his hips against the pillow, his eyes slowly drift back to you, cheeks dusted a faint pink that deepens with every passing second.

but he doesn't let his gaze linger for long as he snaps it away, stammering, "yeah, no, m'good. m'soooo good."

"you sure?" you tease, biting down on your plush lip. "because to me it seems like you're having a hard time focussing."

matt lets out a choked groan, his tongue rolling across his cheek as he shakes his head, fully aware of your innuendo and teasing tone. he slips further down on the bed, rolling onto his side to turn away from you, burying his flustered face in the blankets.

"can't believe you're fuckin' doin' this to me.." he mumbles into the fabric, voice muffled but laced with a mix of embarrassment and shyness.

you grin to yourself at the scene, making a mental note to wear the skirt more often — especially if you're going to get a reaction like that.

#©sturnioz #☆ shy!matt #★ ⋮ sturniolo hours !#★ ⋮ matt hours !

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moonstruckme · 1 month

Note

hello lovely girl!

this is quite specific so please bear with me, but i am deaf in my left ear so i constantly am hearing only half of conversations i am in and constantly pulling people to my right side or sitting across so i can fully hear them. in loud areas i refuse to wear my hearing aids because it’s honestly torture with how much louder everything gets and it’s quite overwhelming.

no pressure in the slightest because you probably receive at least 100 requests a day, but if this is your cup of tea, would you do poly!marauders or any marauder x fem!partiallydeaf!reader? maybe she’s just upset she can’t hear properly and feels like a burden? however you wanna spin this darling!! thanks for even reading it xxx

Hey gorgeous, thank you for requesting!

cw: alcohol

Sirius Black x hearing impaired!reader ♡ 912 words

Sirius is talking loudly, nearly shouting, but his fingers are soft and gentle against yours. He toys with your hand like it was made for his amusement, his rings brushing against your skin as he folds your fingers in, spreads them out, runs a short nail up the length of your pinkie as light as a breeze. He smooths his thumbs over your palm like he’s flattening out the creases in a piece of paper.

“Why don’t you just go to a different grocery?” Lily is the only one who seems to find Pandora’s story more concerning than amusing.

“Because,” Pandora says patiently, “if I stop going, who will feed the goose? I’m not sure if anyone else does. He seems rather neglected.”

“He bit your hand!”

“Which makes it seem like he was quite hungry, no?”

Without warning, music blares into the room. It ricochets off the walls, rising over the cheers of your friends as they recognize the song. You wince, a hand finding your ear.

Sirius’ hand leaves yours. He holds it out in front of you for you to put your hearing aid into. You do, and he stores it safely in his jacket pocket, getting up and moving to your right side automatically.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You smile at him. “Thanks.”

He kisses you on the cheek, lips staying close to your ear. “Evans is worried about the goose being around children.” You turn your attention back to your friends, and you can see the gestures and expressions corresponding to Sirius’ account. “Rosier thinks it has a nest nearby. She’s, well, a bit unhappy that human children are taking priority. And James is back with our drinks.”

The last part you could’ve ascertained on your own. James is carrying four cups in his two hands, seemingly unaware of the liquid sloshing out on all sides to coat his knuckles in stickiness. He peers into the cups concentratedly as he stops in front of you, passing one off to Remus before holding two more out to you and Sirius.

“This one’s yours, babe.” He leans slightly to your right as he speaks. “No vodka, right?”

You nod gratefully. You know James is Sirius’ best mate, but after you’d started dating it almost felt like he became yours, too. He treats you like he’s known you forever, includes you in all their conversations, and remembers things like how the taste of vodka makes you gag. He teases you like you’re best mates as well.

“Wuss,” he says, plopping down in the spot Sirius vacated.

Sirius makes a dramatic gasping sound. “Excuse me! Darling, would you like me to defend your honor?”

You take a sip of your drink. It’s sweet and made the way you like it. “Not this time,” you hum.

“Fair enough.” He shoots James a faux glare, speaking to you. “Now Marl’s asking why Rosier goes to a grocery that far out of the city anyway. Good point.”

Sirius uses his whispering as an excuse to get you close, working a hand around your shoulders and tugging you up against him so his breath warms your ear as he speaks. The conversation is interesting, as are the little comments and opinions Sirius peppers in, speaking to you as though you’re the only one in the room instead of to the group, but you find your mind nonetheless drifting away from it. Sirius’ hand is cupped around your shoulder, tightening every now and again to keep you in place when one of you shifts or his grip starts to slip. The cadence of his voice is enthralling, dipping and curving and getting enthusiastically louder before he remembers to drop it back to a hush, and occasionally on an odd word his lips will tickle the shell of your ear.

It’s difficult to care what he’s talking about when the talking itself is so lovely.

“Thanks for doing this.” You turn towards him, half startled to find his nose hardly an inch from yours. Your boyfriend’s lashes flutter momentarily as though it flusters him too, but he collects himself swiftly, quirking a dark brow. You wet your lips. “I appreciate the help. I know it’s not…it can’t be easy, accommodating me all the time.”

Sirius grins at you. “Course it is, sweetness. It’s easy. I’m only translating.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” you reply, voice softening self-consciously. “So thank you.”

Dark eyes roll skybound before settling on you with an intensity that you should be used to but nonetheless pins you as effectively as it did the day you met. “You think I’d rather you use your hearing aid when it’s too much for you? Or leave you not knowing what’s going on? Don’t be silly, it doesn’t cost me anything to sit here and talk to you.” He stamps a kiss on your cheek. “Shocking as it may be, I like talking to you. Got it?”

Your bashful hum must not be enough for him, because he gives your ear a nibble, a little squeak coming out of you before you can stop it. You both hear and feel Sirius’ laughter, bouncing through his chest as he pulls you closer against his side. “Oh, sod off!” he says to someone, you hope not you. He turns his mouth back towards your ear. “James has just made a ridiculous comment about PDA. The gall of him! Are you sure you don’t want me to defend our honor?”

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 3 months

Note

can you please please write season 1-2 Spencer and readers first time and he’s like nervous about not satisfying her but in the end he does 😅😅😊

i don’t write smut (on this account at least) so it’ll just be the aftermath of their evening. i like to keep this page more pg-13 so i know anyone can be here, it’s gonna be a bit suggestive below cut.

fem!reader (1.5K celebration)

the bedroom was quiet, only heavy panting and fabric rustling filled your ears. the soft cotton of spencer’s bedding covered your naked chest as you stared at his smooth ceiling, letting your mind wonder back to reality.

you turned your head to the left, pillow flattening with the motion, a lavender haze bathing spencer’s profile. his pale chest was tinted in a gentle pink as it moved up and down with his breaths, his neck and cheeks a bit darker in flush. strands of his short hair clung to the sweat on his forehead, the curled ends hugging the bottom of his ears.

you noted how one hand rested over his covered stomach, his fingers curling and uncurling. he let his tongue wet his lips. you shifted your body to lay on your side and it caused spencer to look your way, his eyes pin balling about.

“hi,” a small whisper to not break this serine moment. spencer’s lips twitched at the corner, “how you feeling?” he copied your new position, one arm tucked under his pillow with the other sitting in the open middle of your bodies.

you bit into your bottom lip for a moment as you searched for the right word. you settled for, “very loved. blown away those other horrible times, finishing after a minute and not caring about me.” moving a hand to spencer’s you linked your fingers together, your thumb rubbing softly at the side of his palm.

“it was good, right?” spencer questioning after you said the experience was better than past ones. he had that crease in the middle of his brows, you smoothed it away with the pad of your thumb, “of course.”

“you- you didn’t fake… anything?” his voice went up a pitch. it cracked your heart to think spencer wasn’t practiced in bed, well technically he wasn’t, said you were his first girlfriend and first everything.

you pushed off your side and shuffled to spencer so you could throw you legs over his waist, straddling him naked with only his burgundy sheets keeping a barrier. you toyed with his arms so his palms could mold to the shape of your waist, his long fingers spreading a warmth into you.

“spencer reid, i would never fake anything with you. i’d only pull that trick if i wasn’t feeling into it after a few minutes and wanted it to be over.” his thumbs rubbed at the side of your stomach, “but i wanted to enjoy every second with you. i wanted you to feel good just as much while you made me feel good.”

you let your hands slide over his chest, fingers tracing the curve of his collarbone or letting your pointer drag over his sensitive nipples causing him to shudder a breath. you leaned into him, your breast resting on his skin as you let your lips trail a line of kisses over his jawline. “i could enjoy you all day if possible. i just want to be skin to skin with you, feel every inch.”

spencer’s hold tightened and it caused a surprised moan to slip from your lips, his legs shifting and you can feel something else growing. “we- we could test that out. if- if you’re-“

your lips crashed to his causing the sentence to fall off. you’d be happy to test your theory for the day, after all spencer is a man of science.

#a 1.5k movie night🎞️#erin's blurb request #erin writes spencer #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid early seasons #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid season1 #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

Text

pornstar!gaz x fem!reader drabble

cw: smut smut smut, no plot (: unedited this was just a real quick thing sldfj

uh... blame @groguspicklejar and her post about sucking gaz's dick mwuah i love you

Harsh studio lights threaten to wash you out, but Kyle couldn't care less about the creasing of your foundation or the smudging of your eyeshadow; not when you're on your knees so pretty for him.

Usually, he'd rather give than receive. He can never get enough of that sweet whining you do when he selfishly sucks on your clit, forcing your orgasm out of you faster than your body can perceive. But this? These gentle moans as you flatten your tongue and lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip? That's a pretty close second.

Ignoring the camera man on his right, zooming in on your face, he brushes the tips of his fingers along your cheek as you lap at his tip, head gently bobbing with the movement. It's wet. Spit sticking to your bottom lip and the tip of your tongue, it lingers in thin ropes before breaking.

"Christ, doll," he curses. His cock pulses with heavy need, and you smirk as you feel him dance in your hand and on your lips. "Gonna make me come apart just with this."

A smirk pulls at your lips as you squeeze the base with your hands, and you pleasure him with a few teasing kisses as he shifts his hips on the edge of the bed.

"Haven't even started yet, Ky."

You were right; you haven't, and he is very much aware of this fact when you finally take him into your mouth. It's slow, almost agonizingly so, the way you slowly begin to swallow him. It's almost enough to get his head rolling back, but he refuses to take his eyes off of you, not even for a second. You don't move far enough for him to prod against the back of your throat before you're moving back, pulling away from him with a slick pop!

His hips buck at the loss of stimulation, and you hold back your chuckle before you take him in your mouth again, deeper this time. Your jaw opens wide and welcoming as you press your head down, and down, and down, all the way until he's reached your throat, and even then you press further. You're so fucking tight like that, slick muscles pulsing around him as you try to loosen them enough to take him further. He hisses underneath his breath, and you see the director nodding in approval out of the corner of your eye.

That's your queue to get to work.

You work at him with a heady need, head bouncing up and down along his length, nose touching the trimmed hairs on his stomach before you glide back up to his tip. The toned muscles of his abdomen tense and untense in a mesmerizing dance, yet you can hardly make it out at your speed.

His hands rest on the back of your head now, aiding you in your movement, but not forcing you any further than you're able to go. Heavy breaths fall on your ears like a sweet symphony, and you can't help but groan at the sound. Kyle shudders at the vibration that rips through his body, and it's then that you lean back as a panting, out of breath mess as a string of spit connects the two of you together.

Before his hand drops from the back of your head, you catch one of them and place his palm flat against your throat. His brows twitch and eyes narrow in confusion, but you only grin before diving in for seconds.

Kyle's eyes roll into the back of his head as he feels your throat swell to accommodate his size. It swells, then sinks, then swells each time you move, and you can tell by the way his legs twitch that he's not going to last much longer. But you don't let up. Don't let him get off easy.

"Fuck, y-you like this, don't you?" Kyle asks between groans. "Like suckin' my cock like this? You sweet thing. Sweet, greedy fuckin' thing. Christ, gonna make me come, fuck."

You don't back off when you feel his cock twitch and pulse in your mouth, but you do slow down to savor the briny taste of his cum on your tongue. His groans are guttural, divine, and they don't stop utnil he's given you every last drop of his spend. You lap along the underside of his cock, drawing more out of him, and you don't let him free until the camera zooms in on your face.

Maintaining eye contact, you let your tongue roll out, coated in spit and milky white cum, and you smile before you swallow it whole. Kyle's thumb presses against your lips, like he wishes he could kiss you himself, but he doesn't. No, nothing in the world could get him to take eyes off of the cock-drunk expression that lingers on your face.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he whispers to you once the cameras cut.

"We've still got a good hour left of filming to do," you chuckle.

He hums with a smirk as he presses his thumb into your mouth. You welcome it without resistance, and he swipes it along the flat side of your tongue.

"Good. 'Cause you're gettin' yours, next."

#gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader smut #kyle garrick x reader smut #pornstar!gaz #f!reader

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bambi-slxt · 4 months

Text

subby!chris:

✨a very very long concept✨

quiet and collected in public. no one has any idea his cock is suffocating in his pants every time you brush his arm.

he holds your hand tightly in the Uber home.

"somethin' wrong?"

"...no ma'am."

"you sure?"

you trail your fingertips along his thigh and he twitches.

his lips part on an exhale, blue eyes locked on yours like you're the only thing keeping him alive.

"please, ma..."

streetlights fade behind you, flashing across the car window.

when you get home, chris is no better than a man starved.

he closes the door and guides you against the wall, not domineeringly, but desperately, softly, like your body is his prayer and the wall at your back is the ear of god.

"please," he says again, trailing his hands down your body as he sinks to his knees, "ill starve if i can't taste ya."

a nod from you is all it takes, and chris is done for.

he shoves his nose between your thighs, his heavy, panting breath warm against your core.

chris's fingertips hook around the hemmed edges of your panties and he slips them down, gingerly helping you step out of them.

he looks at the fabric in hand for a moment before touching it to his cheek, his eyes closed and lips parted.

a dribble of pre-cum begins to stain his already-dark pants - he can't help it.

you lift your thigh to his shoulder, shivering as the ends of his curled hair fan against your skin.

"i need you, mamas," chris whispers, his voice sending tremors from your stomach to your clit.

"how bad?"

with an almost primal noise, he wastes no time and buries his face into you.

chris's tongue separates your folds, already slick with pleasure.

he flattens it against your entrance and tightens the muscles within it, moving up to your clit until only the tip of his merciless tongue is touching you.

that wouldn't do.

you reach down and yank his skull into you, to which he responds with a groan.

chris laps at your pussy, paying special attention to the divide righr below your clit.

the noises are lewd at best and pornographic at, well, better.

you feel suction and gasp at the sensation - he's drinking from you. you feel his throat bob on your thigh as he swallows you one, twice, four times, seven, all the while, his hands steady on your hips.

his tongue plunged into you as his nose bumps softly against your nub. electricity crackles up through your body, and your thigh clenched around him.

chris welcomes it, trying to shove himself further and further into you, tugging your pelvis impossibly close to his face.

in all the excitement you didn't notice what his pelvis was up to.

as he drank the mounting pleasure from your body, chris's hips had begun to rock back and forth over nothing, his rock-solid cock begging for friction against something, anything.

the image made you see white, and with a spiraling whimper, you creamed in his mouth.

"hhnngfuck," he mumbles sloppily, positively slurping you clean. his jaw aches but he doesn't care. "more. more."

you grind your clit against him, fingers fisted in his hair, his groans and panting breaths swallowed up by your body in an effort to get closer to you.

suddenly, chris cries out. concerned, though reeling, you lean back to check on him, only to see his crotch shivering and twitching, the dark evidence of his lust painting the inside of his boxers.

his moans and whines would be pathetic if it wasn't so...reverent.

chris kept his eyes open, staring up at you with creased brows, panting lips, his tongue even lolling out of his mouth, rutting quickly into his palm, not even bothering to strip.

"you're gonna cum just from eating box?"

he nods with a strangled whimper, still spurting white into his pants.

"say it."

"i-i'm c-cuhhh..." he pants out, shoving his other hand down quickly to open his fly.

"say it."

"i'm cummmmfucki'm cumming fr-fr-shit-"

more noises of desperation as he yanks his squirting cock free from the confines of his clothes.

you wrap your hand around his throat, not tight enough to hurt him, just firm enough to hold him.

"i will not ask you again."

chris fell on his back now, spread on the floor, pumping his cock like he'd just fallen into heat. the hand around his shaft became the fingers around his tip as he stuttered out, "i'm gonna cum from eating you out, ma-FUCK!"

ropes of his desperation spray across his stomach as he fingers the head of his manhood, his own head thrown back in humiliation and ecstasy.

he paints his torso, holding eye contact with you once more.

"hhhh..." chris breathes out, rolling to the side, his seed spent, his cock still twitching and dribbling in an effort to breed the nothingness that surrounded it. "ohhh god..."

"you're such a good boy, sweetheart," you say, sinking down to sit next to him and pressing a gentle, quite loving kiss to his temple.

"thanks...holy shit..."

you can't help but giggle. "come on, big man, let's go shower."

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov

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cckaisen · 6 months

Text

୨ৎ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝓙𝓔𝓩𝓔𝓑𝓔𝓛, nanami kento !

an indulgence in nanami, his sweet intern, and their shared insanity.

ಇ. summary. fem!reader, smut, dark content, age gap (reader early 20s, nanami late 30s), mildly dubcon, power imbalance, boss/intern relationship, daddy kink, dubious morality, dom/sub elements, seduction, internal conflict, corruption. minors do not interact !!

ಇ. notes. believe it or not, i love nanami, but with that comes my desire to absolutely ruin his life. sorry hun 🩷

nanami's index and middle eagerly dip into the cavern of your mouth, swimming in your saliva as it fills up the crevice between his thick fingers. his features contort in anguish at the way your tongue swirls around him. the noise he lets out is almost wounded, bringing up his other hand to cover his mouth.

digging your knees into the carpet, you tighten your lips around his digits, sucking him in like a whore, gruesome imagery that has his cock straining his pants. every logical bone in nanami's body aches to push you away, yet here he is, ensnared, watching with a strange contained horror as you drool around him.

watching. like a monster lurking in the shadows, knees spread as he sits back in his wanton throne.

he lets your eyes roll back, thumb poking against your cheek as you suckle on his jaded fingers.

it's so much easier to keep from thinking with your satiny mouth enveloping him, soothing him in a violent sear all through his body.

experimentally, nanami pushes his fingers back just enough to trigger your little reflex, watching you gag, lashes fluttering in brief panic as he lets out this awful, guttural groan—he's endeared.

what is wrong with him? what the fuck is wrong with him...?

and why can't he stop?

he's reigned in from bliss by a slurry of soft sounds that drench his hands, the cold steel of his watch bumping your chin.

"what is it?" nanami blurts, question incongruous with his own dizzied tone.

"wanna tashte yoh..." you mumble, fluttering your lashes even though they're thick with globs of tears from where you gagged around him. "please, nanami..."

no. he can't let you. he can't. he's already let this go too far—

nanami bites the inside of his cheek. before he can even reply, you're unfurling his belt, metal clinking darkly.

"fuck..." he pants, wet hand moving out of your mouth to slide across his face. his nose-bridge glistens with your sticky saliva, "goddamnit..."

his lets his eyes shut briefly as you free him from his cotton confines. leaning forward with intent, you take his cock into your palm, noting the way your fingertips struggle to meet around him. he pants harder, gasps for breath, grits his teeth.

"s—sweetheart..." nanami breathes.

open your eyes. see how disgusting i am.

you only answer him with a soft exhale, hardly a sigh. he's alerted to the pink of your lips first as your mouth pools around his tip, and then a shaky, untried breath, and then a barrage of images strike him, a violent, vivid list of things he wants to do to you. his muscles seize up in an attempt to keep himself restrained.

strategically flattening your tongue against his tip, you watch for any kind of reaction like a hawk snatching up its prey. made-up eyes sparkle while inspecting the new crease in his brow, drowning in his destruction.

he stares at you, despairing, a large hand coming up to brush against your cheek. you lap up the affection, crooning into it, insatiable greed spilling out in the form of syrupy saliva. it dribbles messily to the base of his cock, a token of your yearning, the same that held him in his chair as you puddled at his feet.

there was nothing right about this. nothing remotely, possibly, vaguely right. nothing that nanami could scramble to find while taking advantage of your naivety, surmising that perhaps you two could be together, fleetingly, as two adults in two very different stages of life.

because it's so easy. it's so easy to take you when you're so willing, so eager. all his. you leap for his attention, at any cost—how high is never a factor in your decision. his greedy little intern.

his precious little girl.

he's cradling your head in his palms, feeling the heat pooling in your cheeks, nesting in your hair when he breaches your throat with a strained grunt.

squinting your eyes, you rush to take it all, inviting nanami to meld you to his will. he grimaces when your nails dig into his skin through his pants, imagining the terrible thoughts gushing through your mind about wanting to please him more than anything. then, pleasure lurches through him, his own body betraying his morals.

you rut your mouth up and down on him, slobber drenching his thighs. nanami's touching you, holding your head, but not for better use—his hands are hot and gentle, like sapped concrete.

"it's okay. you can be rough," you ebb him on, popping off briefly with a smarmy look. "i'm not made of glass, you know."

nanami sneers at the comment. "don't."

"what? don' wanna hurt me? c'mon, i can take it." you pepper kisses up the side of his cock, flushed and magma-hot, rubbing against your cheek.

"god," his hips roil in response to your torment, his breath labored around the words, "the mouth on you..."

"mhm. i'm good with it, right?" you giggle before getting back to your little task. in dizzying motions, you roll your tongue along him, sweet kitten licks souring his conscience, all his fantasies rolling into one diabolical act.

nanami's brain fizzles in dying sparks, eyes rolling. he attempts to let go of you in order to sink his grip into the chair for crushing purchase, but you refuse; little fingers snatch his and bring them to the back of your neck.

kento chokes on a moan as your nose brushes his pelvis, your body floundering weakly for a moment. your instinct for air is obstructed by a growing pressure against the back of your head.

"good girl, that's it..."

pride flourishes in your chest when you're given praise, panties growing stickier from under your skirt. you can't breathe, but it feels too good. the way he keeps you there, maintaining the invasion in your throat, selfish, unchecked lust bleeding out through the cracks of his dignity.

and it's too easy. when he tugs you back, lets you bob your head, gagging on needy gulps and whines, it comes so easily he hardly knows why he was ever so reluctant. so hesitant, and for what? what's the point in holding back if you want it? when you want it rough? when it's exactly what you're begging for? when it's clear that all you want is to be treated like those girls in porn, those girls with fathers who don't care for them, those girls who ask for it, who don't know any better, who get found shot dead in a ditch, legs askew and panties twisted around their ankles, one of those girls.

nanami thrusts forward. shoves his cock down your throat, really, punching a gasp from deep inside your body. he comes with a strained grunt, a ragged whisper of your name, croaked out into the cosmos.

your throat squeezes, something hot and thick gushing into the tight space. gargling, swallowing, spluttering as you thrash for air, nanami's grip slackens.

"s-stop," he jerks, gritting his perfect set of teeth until they creak under the pressure. "stop it, don't—"

the second his grasp on you loosens, the yearning floods again tenfold. in an attempt to regain his rugged affections, you suckle at his cock, panting greedily, tearful eyes wide and owlish with glutton. "d—daddy..."

nanami hisses, overstimulation pricking his nerves. in an instant, he flares up, acid in his gut fizzling, lurching at you.

a choked noise—a squeak—jumps from your spit-glossed lips at once, barely reaching his ears. you're balking at him, not in your usual girlish inflection. this was different. it was scared.

it takes him a few beats to make out the jaunted figure of his knuckles squeezing around your neck, calcifying. a milky rapture. the sight ingrains itself in his mind, carving the image of your wobbling pupils into the shadows of his careful persuasion.

that simple pleasure dissolves as quickly as it came. guilt rears its ugly head, a pit of ice settling in his stomach. nanami churns. had he just...?

recoiling at his own affliction, kento shudders, releasing you at once.

relief is immediate. your lungs swallow up all the air they can, chest expanding for a giant gulp of air. fright begins to subside, but that foreboding darkness in his eyes flashes through your mind in harsh, bright bursts. willowy fingers tremble on-top of his knee, the same that had just lured out that murk in him he desperately despised.

a necklace of torrent red rises to the surface of your skin in the wake of his foul touch. you paw at it weakly, stunned turmoil heavy in your gaze as you blink up at him.

"i—i'm sorry," nanami chokes out, "god, i'm sorry... i don't know what came over me."

"it's okay," you dispel quickly, wiping off the wet trails along your cheeks, because you liked it—his cruelty. it's been your goal since the very beginning. to break him down, to expose that carnality that simmered in his veins. you'd done just that. and even though it had only been for the briefest of seconds, the wound it left was raw, broiling and morbid.

but you liked it.

right?

"no, it's not okay. i went too far." nanami's blood pressure slides as he makes the admission. "i hurt you just now."

"yeah? so what?" you shrug a 'couldn't care less', holding his careful gaze, "i liked it."

a line of revulsion carves into nanami's forehead, deep and unmistakable. fear that it's aimed at you pangs in your chest until he suddenly groans, palming his chiseled face. thin brows sinking, that new wrinkle exaggerated by the untimely turn of events. "god, what the hell have i done to you...?"

your breath hitches at the self-imposed question. it's engrained with frustration, gaunt and responsible. so nanami of him.

and yet he leers inwardly, venom rising in his throat. "can't you see i'm ruining you?"

nanami's words teem with unvarnished emotion, corruption burbling in his deep baritone voice, the corruption you share so blindly, so willingly. it wreaks turbulence unto your vision, wetting your eyes again.

"nanami..."

"i'm so sorry," he pleads. "forgive me. i didn't want this for you. please believe me... you believe me, don't you? that i didn't want—i don't want to be like this."

you fall quiet again. you're still below him, knees starting to ache as you catch your breath.

"i'm sorry," kento mumbles, lifting you so gently upright and pulling you towards him. your head meets his firm chest as his hands come up, one cradling the back of your skull, the other at the small of your back. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so, so sorry."

"it's okay. i forgive you." you whisper, wrapping your arms around him. despite the soggy shards of concern that lay in pieces at your feet, you croon into him none the less, giving chase once again. to him. to his touch, his protection, his patience.

you want it all.

the anguish, the control, the lacerations of his love.

hurt me.

and i promise i will like it.

likes n reblogs are appreciated !! 🩷

#୭ ˚.⁺⊹ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓪𝓻𝓭 .ᐟ #cckaisen too obscene!#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk

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bitchimasnake-sss · 6 months

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tryin' his best ft. roronoa zoro!

i am once again thinking about zoro as a clueless boyfriend, completely new to the dating scene. no imagine, just imagine with me 😳😳

[modern au; zoro is a martial artist]

dont talk to me, im too busy thinking about the roronoa zoro as a confused husband boyfriend🤭 like can you imagine? the greatest martial artist of all time, the beast, the demon, the lord of the underworld. and yet, when you say, "i'm so tired, babe", he stands in all his 5'11 ft glory and goes blank. blank.

roronoa zoro was the sweetest man alive but holy fucking shit he was such an idiot clueless. for the past few days or so, the man had witnessed first hand how tired you were. your eyes were puffy, face dull and spirit broken. all those meetings at work; the relentless late-night calls, stay-backs and what nots had left you a mere husk of the woman you usually were. and so, he had decided to try his best to make sure his failing actions could comfort you when his words couldn't. and that started the chronicles of roronoa zoro's day of fuck-ups.

💚 zoro can't cook for shit. he knows that, you know that and your neighbour sanji (who is a chef by profession) knows that too. and yet one of these mornings, while the dew still clung helplessly onto the green leaves, he had gotten up and slipped into the kitchen. his plan was to surprise you with some breakfast. nothing too extravagant, maybe some easy mix pancakes? but all those plans came burning down when you were awoken with a shrill crash. hair knotted, face puffy, shirt slipping off of your shoulders and the first thing you see in the morning is zoro standing with flour on his chest and on the floor. and there lay an upside down steel bowl on the floor at the edge of his feet. "zoro?" you mumbled sleepily, assessing the damage, "what are you even upto? it's seven on a sunday." "yn- uh, you go back to sleep-i'll deal with this mess." if he was trying to appear nonchalant, he was failing. his eyes were blown out, forehead creased, lips pursed as if he had committed the worst atrocity mankind had witnessed. in a way, he had. he knew it was a sunday. he also knew it was your only day off so you should have been sleeping in instead of picking after his dumbass in the kitchen. "zoro?" you asked again but he refused to say anything more. when you gave him a look of steel, the moss-head carefully avoided your gaze before sheepishly admitting, "sorry. i was trying to figure out how to make you some pancakes." your gaze softened, "were you? that's so sweet of you, zo." you walked towards him, careful as to not step on the mess. your casual touched dusted off the flour from his navy shirt that had he slept in. once you were satisfied with the state of the shirt, you had resorted to an honest smile, "come on, let's clean this up first, yeah?" "but you should sleep-" "babe- with all due respect- if i leave you to clean this, i think you will set the kitchen on fire"

💚 on his next attempt to cheer you up in the afternoon, he planned on giving you a massage. you both had been dating a good few months and he had certainly touched you in more ways than just hand-holding but... this was new. he had never really done this for anyone before and so, what if you hated it or he did it wrong? but the man had put all his wayward thoughts aside. maybe his hands could knead away the stress from your aching muscles where his words failed to comfort you? and so, the bed dipped next to you as he came and sat down. you were lying on your stomach, scrolling on your phone. his fingers lightly skimmed your back and you jolted involuntarily at the intrusive touch. looking back, you muttered, "zoro? baby?" "just um, try to relax okay?" his palm flattened against your back. he applied some force, moving his hands up and down against your tank top, kneading the flesh underneath. you seemed to melt under his earnest touches, allowing your muscles to go slack under him. dropping your phone on the bed, you carefully had tucked your head under your arms and then, you yelped, "zoRO-" "yeah?!" he stopped all movements, panicked at your sudden reaction. "it hurt." you gave him a pained look before sighing, "you put too much force, babe." "did i? sorry" he chewed on the inside of his cheek, "sorry, really. do you want me to try again?" you gave him a kind smile before tucking your head back in under your arms and stuffing your face against the pillow. "it's okay, i am just gonna lay down for a while okay?"

💚 as truly a last resort, he called up nami and told her his problem (all grumbling and shit). after the red-head had laughed for five minutes at the martial artist's inculpabilities, she finally decided to help. she pondered for a second, staring at the screen intensely before saying "i dunno? me and vivi usually get like our favourite take out and just re-watch a comfort movie. it's pretty cozy and an easy way to deal with the general stress of life, you know?" "should i do that?" zoro mumbled, resting his head against the headrest of his car. he sighed, "did she tell you anything else if it's been bothering her? other than work i mean?" "she didn't say it out loud but having you as a boyfriend must be a pain in the ass anyways." "has anyone told you you're a royal bitch?" the words were harsh but his lips were pressed into a easy smile. "hah, yeah they have. but anyways, aren't you her boyfriend?" nami snapped back although she sported a smile of her own, "shouldn't you know what you should be doing to cheer her up? honestly she doesn't deserve an idiot like you." "hey, i've had a rough day okay? lay off of me." zoro bit back. "fine, whatever. just surprise her. i am sure she'd like it."

💚 and so, roronoa zoro's final mission had begun. he had picked up your favourite food from the chinese restaurant that you always ordered from. he had picked up a huge bouquet of flowers. and he had picked up a chocolate cake as desert. on the ride back home, he had even thought about what movie you both would watch. yes. yes. there's no way he could fuck it up now. he was ready to do his best. he opened the door with a wobbling right hand while his left held onto all the things. the cake carton was perched on his fingers, the takeout on another two fingers, the bouquet tucked between his bicep and chest. he wouldn't lie. it was a struggle to get everything in in one trip (especially with his level of patience when it comes to small, annoying things like this.) but it was all for you, so, it had to be worth it. tumbling in, he set everything on the coffee table in front of your tv. and then, he walked into the bedroom where you lay sleeping in the same position he had left you in the afternoon. it had been over three hours and you hadn't stirred even one inch. god, how tired were you? slowly closing the door behind him, he stepped back into the living room.

💚 your eyes were hazy and throat unusually dry when you stepped into the living room. your muscles were somehow even more tired and you were sure your body, mind and soul were incapable of doing anything but curling up and falling asleep again. on instinct, you searched for your boyfriend. "zoro?" you squinted at the man in front of you as he was in the process of setting down food on the table. and looking around, you noticed the huge bouquet perched on the sofa. "hey-" he turned towards you wide-eyed as if you had caught him doing something wrong, "uh- hi? hey? you're up already?" "whatcha doing? what's that?" you mumbled as you walked over to him, still not processing reality. as you stared down at the table, you wondered aloud, "food?" he sighed, defeated, "yeah." your brain fog cleared up and you looked up at his blushing face wide-eyed, "wait! you bought me food?" you turned on your heel to look at the bouquet and picked it up, "and this?" rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away from you, "it was actually meant to be a surprise cause i thought you were sleeping. but-" "zoroo!!" you practically lunged at him. your hands closed in around him as you rested your head against his well-built chest. hearing his quickened heart-beat, you eased even more against his familiar, scorching skin. you buried your face even deeper against him, "thank you!" his fingers danced over your scalp. his husky voiced was accompanied by calculated strumming of his finger over your hair, "i am sorry, it was meant to be a surprise, really." you pulled away from him to look at him in disbelief, "why are you sorry?!" he swallowed thickly, eyes scattering away from yours, "because- i dunno, i suck as a boyfriend?" he winced at his admission but continued nonetheless, "i tried making you breakfast, ruined it. i tried giving you a massage, ruined that too. i tried to set up a surprise date and fucked that shit up too." "zo." your fingers are delicate against his cheek, bringing his eyes back to yours. you gave him a small smile, "you tried. for me. that's what matters." although a smile blossomed on his lips, he washed it away with another sigh, "you're just saying that 'cause you don't wanna admit i'm a fuck-up in the boyfriend category." you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, "i am saying this because i love you. and you make me feel loved." "really?" you laughed, "i mean your massaging skills can use a bit of work but... yeah, other than that you're good. really." "i'm glad me being an idiot is endearing to you." he gave you a grin, "so, wanna eat? i'm kinda hungry." "yesss!!" you mirrored his smile. you paused for a second then wondered aloud, "you know what? i think i'm gonna call in sick tomorrow. we can hang out, just you and me." "oh, really?" he scrunched his nose up as if in deep thought, "then we gotta celebrate. you know there's cake in the fridge." "OMG I LOVE YOU!!" so, yeah, roronoa zoro might be kind of an idiot. but he was your idiot.

i wanna take domestic zoro and trap him in a bottle. i wanna just keep him like that. i really liked how this turned out lol. hope you guys did too <3

#one piece #opla #op #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro fluff #one piece fluff #zoro imagine #roronoa zoro x reader

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sweeterelease · 8 days

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boy next door james potter who finds a best friend in his long haired energetic neighbor, someone that keeps up with his energy and even indulge him further. james potter who notices this guy’s family scene isn’t ideal, so he does everything in his hands to shield him from the cruelty of it all.

james succeeds in letting sirius know he’s arrived fairly quickly, it only takes a couple rocks into the window for a hand to come through and unlock it for him. james climbs up swiftly, too busy going on about how they're sneaking out tonight to notice the furniture arrangement isn't the one he remembers, did sirius always have a whole library in his room? james stops and looks around, seeking out long hair framing a grin but instead he's meet with gray eyes and freckles. He startles, frozen in place as he stares into the boy's calculating gaze.

"wrong room, you're his friend aren't you?" the boy asks, head resting on his knees where they curl up in front of him.

james feels strangely restless, his hand twitch and he can't quite find his voice, "is sirius home?"

the calculating gaze softens, barely, "yes, he's expecting you."

faintly, james can begin to hear rock music coming from outside, no doubt his best friend getting ready for a night out.

"i'm sorry, where am i?"

the boy tilts his head in question, like he doesn't think james is asking completely substantial questions. a line creases between his eyebrows, james fights the urge to flatten it with his thumbs.

"his brother's room, don't fret he's just across the hall" he nods towards the door, gesturing for him to move along.

"right—" james pads across the room, still looking at black curls, much like the ones he knows but shorter. james somehow thinks these look softer.

"well then?" gray eyes look around, waiting for james to leave or trying to figure out what else he needs.

james blinks, "just— what's your name?" he can't help himself.

pale hands reach for the book he'd put aside and bring it back to his lap. gray eyes finally drop, james' surprised to notice he misses their gaze.

"regulus."

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #harry potter #marauders #jegulus microfic #jegulus meeting #james falls in love #sirius black

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

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See No Evil, Hear No Evil {1}

Aemond One-Eye x deaf!fem!reader Summary: Love blossoms when you get to know the sweet man and not the cocky Prince. Warnings: fluff, Aegon being a predator, more fluff. I know lip reading is not easy or infallible but for this the reader is able to read lips almost perfectly. WC: 4.9k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three ||

Couples were dancing around the space that had earlier been occupied by long tables for the feast, their joyous smiles twisting your gut with jealousy. No one would ask you to join them, not when you could not hear the very music that set the pace.

Returning your attention to the table that you were seated at, you watched the men and women intently. Some glared at you when they caught your eyes on them, waving their hand as if it could blow you out of sight and out of mind. Moving on to the next, you found a single blue eye staring back.

Prince Aemond. He was another social outcast, though his personality was as much to blame as the jagged scar that ran through his left eye. There was always a taunting smirk on his lips and a cold gleam in his eye, it sent the courtiers vying for the hand of anyone but him. Not even the power hungry, attention seekers dared to subject themselves to his viperous nature.

His brother captured his attention and whatever spell had kept you enthralled with his stare broke. The two Targaryen princes leaned together and Aemond’s lips pursed as Aegon spoke with nervous mannerisms that warned you they would have been whispering, but you could read his lips.

“There is something desirable about a silent woman,” Aegon said as his eyes flickered your way. “But I would do anything to make her scream.”

Aemond’s lips pulled back with a sneer before he answered, “I can only imagine the depravities that fill your mind.”

“I do not think you have the creativity needed to imagine them, little brother.”

“Thank the gods for that blessing,” Aemond said as he leant back. “She is too intelligent for you anyhow.”

“Intelligent?” Aegon rocked back with a laugh that drew the others’ attention to him. “She cannot hear and does not speak.”

Aemond turned his eye back to you. “Then she must see a great deal, for there is definitely intelligence behind those eyes.”

“Then I would face her down when I bed her.”

You looked away and wrapped your fingers around the silver goblet so they were occupied and the trembling was hopefully unnoticeable. You had expected no better of the eldest son of the King, he was known to stick his fingers in many pies - though sometimes he didn’t stop at his fingers.

You might have been deaf to the tales the maids spoke of as they prepared you but you saw everything from the tears in their eyes to the bruises barely hidden by their uniforms. Just the thought of Aegon even noticing you had a knot twisting in your stomach.

Pushing the velvet-lined chair back, you rose from the table and nodded silently to the sickly Viserys. He gave a weak dismal wave of his hand that rested on the arm of his chair and you pressed your fingertips to your chin in return, thanking him for permitting your leave. After flattening the layers of skirts that had creased beneath the table, you laced your fingers together and ignored the two stares that watched your retreat from the dining room.

The feeling of spiders dancing down your spine didn’t ease, even after you had snaked your way through Red Keep to the atheneum. There would normally be a maester wandering the quiet halls full of books, organising the rows into alphabetical fashion and finding requested pieces for others, but with the late hour it was empty.

The scent of dust and beeswax greeted you as you closed the door behind you. Someone had been waxing a leather bound book cover and the yellow bar had been left beside a half shiny cover as if they might return at any moment. Walking over to the small table, you opened the cover to see what the book was and found it to be a personal journal of Aegon the Conqueror.

Warmth touched your nape and your lips parted with a sharp intake of breath as you spun around, your legs tangling in the skirts and your hip hitting the table with a sharp jolt of pain. Aemond stepped back with a smirk, his hands raised in innocence that was betrayed by the amusement in his eye.

“Apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

You rubbed your palm over the bruise that would no doubt be forming and narrowed your eyes at the blatant lie. “I shall rephrase, I did not mean for you to get hurt.” Aemond’s smirk grew until his lips parted and his shoulders bounced with a laugh. “I know you can understand me.”

He reached for you and you froze at the closeness, and his scent that washed over you as his hair nearly brushed your cheek. He smelt of the woods you had run through as a child, pine and earth, fresh and rich. Then there was the fruity yet tarty hint of wine that followed as he exhaled slowly, as if he had taken an equally long inhale of the floral perfume you wore.

As quick as he had come for you, he was gone, Aegon’s journal with him and you let out a shuddering breath as you realised you were not the object he had been reaching for. He seemed to take pleasure in the confusion on your face as he smirked once again and tucked the novel under his arm with a mocking bow.

His eye lingered on your hip as he straightened. “Take care, milady.”

You could not breathe again until the door sealed shut but you no longer felt the calm that you usually found in the athenium, the books no longer welcoming as the tall shelves towered above you with their dark shadows. Angered by the effect Aemond had in your place of sanctuary, you swiped a book from the closest shelf and made for your chambers and the thick lock bolt that you could hide behind.

The courtyard was busier than usual as you took a seat on a stool against the Keep walls. The airy space had become a favourite place to sit since you were not allowed to leave the high red brick walls without an escort. Since this was not your House territory you had to rely upon King Viserys’ white cloaked guards but you did not wish to make a fuss so you had not utilised the soldiers.

The sky was blue and the clouds that had blanketed the city at dawn were quickly evaporated by the heat and it enticed many others to step into the sunshine. Pulling your small bound notebook from the pocket in your skirt, you unwrapped a stick of coal and looked around for something to catch your eyes. The twin guards, Arryk and Erryk, were huddled close as they entered through the gates and your hand moved across the page.

E: She paid another maid to leave last night in the cover of darkness. That is the fourth this month. A: What did you expect? Bastards don’t belong in the Keep. E: Someone needs to stop him. A: Careful, brother, what you speak could be considered treason.

They disappeared deeper into the Keep and you read over the dialogue trying to understand what they had been talking of when a shadow passed over the page. You slammed the book closed and looked up, momentarily blinded by the bright sun reflecting off the head of long silvery white hair.

The stick of coal had fallen to the dirt in your rush to hide the page and Aemond crouched before you to gather it, holding it out in his palm. Your eyes lingered on the calluses from hours of training and the thin scars that littered the skin that peeked out from under his tunic.

You had not seen him since the incident in the atheneum and you had forgotten the connection that had seemed palpable in the days gone by but now you were once again caught by his eye. You had failed to notice the flecks of violet in the pale blue iris when you last saw them but that was in a dimly lit room, in the sun they were almost iridescent.

It wasn’t until he took your hand and unfurled your fingers that you realised how long you had stared, breaking away with embarrassment as he placed the coal into your palm. The hairs on your nape rose under the intensity of the moment and you curled your fingers around the coal gently so as not to crush your writing tool. You slipped the coal back into your pocket and pressed your fingers to your chin.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a small smile. He reached for your face and your breath froze in your lungs as he ran his thumb softly across jaw. “Can’t have a smudge of coal hiding your beauty.”

You were certain you read his lips wrong but the flutter in your chest betrayed your common sense and a smile tugged at your lips. His eye followed the curve of your smile and he had to shake his head to clear his thoughts before rising to his feet.

“Care to walk with me, milady?”

You could feel eyes on you as the crowd snooped to see why the One Eyed Prince would be talking to you. You had long ago learned to ignore the stares but for some reason that seemed a harder task today. Tucking your notebook away, you accepted his offer with a nod and let him lead the way to the Royal gardens that were usually off limits.

“I must admit, you intrigue me,” Aemond said after stopping beneath the weirwood tree and facing you. “You and your notebook that you carry everywhere.”

You automatically pressed your hand to the reassuring weight and frowned, wondering where this was leading to.

“May I see it?”

Your fingers tightened around it and you shook your head adamantly. A heat flared across your skin at the thought of him reading your notes and looking at the drawings that you attempted. He appeared within the pages far too often for your own liking.

“As prince, I could demand it of you,” he said as he stepped closer. The wind changed and caught his hair, flicking wayward strands over his shoulder and the scent of lemon verbena shampoo drifted your way along with the purely masculine musk of sweat from training.

You walked away, needing to clear your senses that he overpowered much like his very presence in the garden. The notebook suddenly seemed like an anchor and each step was heavy as you took a seat on the edge of a long bench in the shade. From the corner of your vision you saw Aemond sit at the other end, the entire length separating him from you.

Tap, tap, tap.

Your fingers tingled with the vibrations as they rested atop the bench beside your legs.

Tap, tap, tap.

You turned to face Aemond and found his smirk growing as he used his fingernail to tap and scratch the wood.

“You can feel that, can’t you?”

You nodded your head and his smile grew, transforming his face and erasing the harsh lines that were usually shaped with a scowl. You startled with the realisation that you found him handsome and your palms grew warm as you wiped them on your dress that was suddenly too heavy for the spring weather.

Tap, tap, tap.

You were pulled from your thoughts and looked back at the prince, hoping he could not see the effect he had on you but the intensity to his stare made you feel naked, as if every thought you ever had was laid bare for him to read.

His lips parted with a sharp intake and he leant closer, though he was still far from reach as he mouthed the word, “Beautiful.”

There was something therapeutic in being around the horses and you often found yourself wandering into the stables. The servants and stableboys no longer sent you odd looks as they grew used to your presence most days and you were grateful to be left in solitude as you combed the black and grey haired stallion that had caught your eye.

You had just placed the comb back on the hook that hung beside the gate when you felt vibrations in the wood beneath your hand.

Tap, tap, tap.

Stunned, you turned to find Aemond resting against the gate with a lazy smile on his face.

“I hope you aren’t planning on stealing my horse, gorgeous.”

You rolled your eyes and didn't dignify him with an answer as you reached into your skirt pockets and found the carrot you had stolen from dinner the night before. Aemond’s shadow followed you as he opened the gate and stepped inside the stall, his hand landing gently on your shoulder so you were aware of where he was, as if you hadn’t been keeping track.

“No wonder Storm was slow to gallop,” Aemond said as he faced you from the other side of his horse, his hand petting down the long mane. “You have been spoiling him.”

You kept your palm flat as you Storm’s lips pulled back and he greedily took the carrot. The name suited the horse with his colourings of the turbulent stormy skies and you scratched his ear while he finished his snack.

“As much as I enjoy hearing my own voice, there must be another way for us to communicate.” Aemond stepped around the front of Storm and you frowned as you no longer felt the urge to back away from him as you had in the past. “Teach me the signs I have seen you do.”

You were shocked by his request even though you knew him to be an intellect and a scholar, the fact that he spent so many mornings training to be a warrior seemed to fill you with the idea that he was more brute than student. Your nursemaid had been the one to help you create the secret language but it had never really expanded past what a child might need to convey. You had relied upon written communication but that was only useful with the highborns who were educated, unfortunately most of the servants were illiterate.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the notebook you were never without and tore out a blank page before he could see what secrets the book held. He watched as your handwriting sprawled across the page and you could see his chest bouncing with a laugh before he took it from you.

He slipped the note into the folds of his cloak with an amused smile, not at all offended by the message you had given him. You smell. Bathe first, then I will teach you.

“I shall meet you in the library, milady, after bathing of course.” He bowed at the waist though his eye never left you and you didn’t see the mocking smile he had given you the last time he had made the gesture. The pale blue orb seemed to zero in on the pulse at your neck, as if he could see how rapidly it raced in his intense presence. “I shall see you soon.”

Three Months Later

You had seen neither hide nor hair of Aemond as you strolled the halls of the Keep, the tourney for his brother’s name day was about to begin and you did not wish to enter the highborn box alone. Giving up hope on finding him, you followed the few other ladies who were late and slipped into the back row in the hopes your presence would go unnoticed.

The bench seat kept shifting as ladies rose with their garlands, tossing the favours to the lords who asked in hopes they might win their challenge with the luck. Each time they moved you cursed inwardly and settled your heart that pounded erratically, wishing the entire event be over with.

You were tracing the embroidered floral design on your skirts when a hand waved in front of your face and you nearly fell back in fright. The only person you knew it wasn’t was Aemond, he knew to touch your shoulder to get your attention so as not to give you a heart attack. Peering up as you clutched your chest, you found Lady Reyne looking apologetic as she pointed to the front where the jousting course was set.

Aemond sat atop his horse, patiently waiting with a smile as he caught your eyes. A thousand questions ran through your head as you rose from the bench and clutched the favour of woven asters and budding chrysanthemums to your breast. You could feel the eyes of the entire crowd following your steps down to the front of the highborn box and past King Viserys, but there was only one that held you captive.

“May I ask for your favour, milady?”

You nodded with a smile, grateful that you had taken his advice to make the flower crown. When he said that someone may ask one of you, your head had fallen back with a silent laugh before you shook your head, but he had insisted and you could not deny him.

Casting the favour out, it twirled down the length of his jousting pole until it reached his hand. His smile was brighter than the sun as he pulled at the reins of his stallion and made his way to the lists. His mother caught your hand with a gentle smile as you passed by and she patted the space beside her in invitation.

You ringed your fingers nervously as you watched Aemond’s armour shimmer in the sunlight while his horse paced, awaiting the drop of the flag to begin the match. Alicent placed her hand over yours, unclenching them and lacing them with hers as she fretted over her son. You could tell she liked the idea of seeing her son facing a jousting opponent as much as you did. You had seen the heinous injuries one could get in the sport.

Alicent patted your hand and you tore your eyes away from Aemond to look at her as she said, “He will be fine, dear. Aemond is one of the best.”

You nodded and hoped it looked reassuring before you noticed the flag drop. Aemond kicked his boots in the stirrups and his horse took off, kicking a spray of sand up behind him. You barely breathed as he raced along the fence and levelled out his pole, his opponent doing the same. Time seemed to slow as the poles crossed each other and crashed wood against armour, shattering into splinters.

The air in your lungs exploded from you as you jumped to your feet and rushed to the rail to see Aemond still atop his horse. His opponent was sprawled across the sand but Aemond paid him no mind as he circled back to the rail where you waited and pulled his helmet from his head before shaking out his long hair that was mussed up.

“Is your heart still in your chest?” Aemond asked as he looked up at you, amusement teasing a smirk on his lips.

You pointed to yourself and curled your fingers over your face before pointing to him, his lips parting with a laugh that shook his shoulders.

“Why are you mad at me? I won.”

Waving him off, you noticed the next opponents were arriving to request their favours and he shot them a dirty look as they interrupted you.

“Meet me in the library.”

You nodded and moved away as two ladies reached the railing, missing the smile Alicent had after watching the interaction.

The tourney would continue all day so it was no surprise to find the athenium empty when you arrived and took a seat on the plush settee. The stained glass windows cast a colourful shadow across the stone floor and you reached into your pocket for your notebook and coal to capture the image.

You were just finishing with the shading and smudging the shadows onto the parchment with your fingertip when you felt the air shift around your face. A smile was already pulling on your lips when you looked up to find Aemond dressed once more in his finery and his hair still damp from bathing. The citrus tart of his soap teased your nose and you reached for him as you closed your book.

He let you pull him onto the cushioned seat beside you and chuckled to himself as you ran your hands over his fitted shirt before he caught your hands. “I am unharmed.”

You narrowed your eyes at him until he released your hands to continue to make their own assessment. When you were satisfied that he was not just trying to placate you, you shuffled closer and slipped under his arm that he opened for you in invitation.

While waiting for his arrival you had been wondering how you could return the gesture he had made for you in front of the entire city and he could sense your unrest as you shifted in your seat. Unable to look him in the eye, you grabbed your notebook and placed it on his lap.

His fingers traced your jaw and turned you to face him so you could see what he had to say. “Are you sure?”

You nodded before you lost your courage and he carefully opened the bound covering as if it were an invaluable, fragile piece of history. He treated it knowing how you cherished it.

You did not look to see what pages he perused, some drawings and some snippets of passing conversations, but instead watched his reactions. With each turn of the page you knew what he would find and your nervousness grew. The drawings of Red Keep and the Royal Gardens would soon change and he would see himself through your eyes.

It had not taken long for him to become your muse, in fact in the last few months it had become an addiction. There was not a day that passed where you didn’t want to capture his likeness, sometimes it was when the sunlight caught his hair or the smile that he reserved just for you.

His lips parted with surprise and you knew he had reached the moment you had first given in to your desire and drawn him content in the gardens. Your palms turned clammy and your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest as he turned each page until he reached the last and closed it.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he turned to you and you saw his eye shimmering with unshed tears. Of all the reactions, that was not one that you could have expected. Aemond was always so collected and cool until you had peeled back the layers of his self-protection but this was the last mask to fall away.

You reached for his cheek, cupping the warm skin as you wiped away the single tear that escaped before he closed his eye and leaned into the touch.

“Thank you,” he said as he opened his eye again, blinking away the rest of the tears before they could fall. “No one draws my eyes.”

You frowned at the statement and he sighed from the heavy breath of air that brushed over your skin. “The artists who take our portraits do so from my right, this,” he tapped his leather eye patch, “makes them uncomfortable.”

Tears welled in your own eyes as you saw the pain he still felt though the wound had long healed. Though it was compromising, you rose to your knees and straddled his legs, shock flitting across his face before fear seeped in as you reached for the leather patch.

“It is not pretty, milady.”

You circled your palm over your chest and you thought he would deny your plea for permission as he pursed his lips but then he bowed his head with a nod.

His eye stared intently at you as you traced your finger over the leather that had been warmed by his body heat. The smooth material was softer than you thought it would be as you eased it from his head and bared his scar for the first time. Your breath rushed through your parted lips as you saw the crude line that had carved through his eyebrow, down his eye and across his cheek.

He turned away and your heart clenched as he hid himself from you but he had to know, it wasn’t the scar that caused your reaction, you were horrified at how he had been hurt so badly. Cradling his cheeks in your hands, you gently guided him back to you but still he refused eye contact.

There was only one way you could show him how you felt and your stomach fluttered at the thought as you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his cheek, just below the scar. His breath warmed your shoulder as he shuddered beneath your touch and you kissed him a little higher, grazing the skin that changed from smooth to raised. The tension in his shoulders relaxed with each soft kiss and when you pulled back you were able to admire the sapphire that replaced his missing eye without him turning away.

“Are you not repulsed?”

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you shook your head and stood up, instantly missing the warmth of his hands where they had rested on your hips. He watched curiously as you grabbed your notebook from where he had placed it and fished your pockets for the coal. Though you wanted to sit close to him it was not the right place for what you wanted to do and so you took a seat on the settee opposite.

Not liking how far you were away either, he tried to stand and join you but the stern finger you pointed at him had him sinking back into the cushions while you found a blank page. He remained still as you captured his likeness on the page and the colourful shadows of the stained glass window reached his hair.

You knew of merchants that could recreate colours with ochre and malachite collected from Essos but even with your family’s wealth the rare minerals remained out of reach. You were left with the common sticks of coal and on your name day you often received the finer illustrator of graphite.

Satisfied by the portrayal, from the long strands of hair that were now dry to the strong jawline that had felt better than imagined in your hands, you rose from the chair. Aemond welcomed you back into his arms and eagerly looked at the page that was still open. His throat bounced with the swallow he took and you chewed on your bottom lip as you waited with bated breath.

He turned slowly so you could see his lips before he spoke, “This is how you see me?”

You looked at the picture and smiled at the face of a confident, handsome young man as he faced the world without having to hide. Looking back at Aemond, you placed your hand over his heart and nodded.

His arms pulled you closer as he dipped his head and your body trembled in anticipation. Every nerve ending flared to life when his lips caressed yours ever so softly and your hands tangled in his hair as you returned the kiss with more force. You could feel his smile against you before he gave you what you needed and deepened the kiss, stealing your breath until you broke away feeling lightheaded.

His thumb traced your tingling lips as you slipped back into the seat, tucked under his arm, and you saw his kiss-swollen lips. You imagined yours looked the same and heat flooded you with the thought of being caught in the compromising state. A sliver of panic grew in your chest, if rumours spread then you would be shamed from your family so you scampered from the chair and brushed your hands over your skirts.

Alarm erupted from Aemond at the sudden change and he watched you right yourself, hurt haunting his blue eye before he too rose. “Please do not regret what we shared.”

You froze, your jaw dropping at what he had mistaken your fear as and against your better judgement, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist as you shook your head. He curled himself around you until you felt entirely enveloped by his arms and his scent as he buried his face in your neck.

Pulling away reluctantly, he took your hand and placed it on his chest so you could feel the thunderous beat of his heart as it raced. “This belongs to you and I am yours if you will have me.”

His face blurred as tears welled in your eyes, the fierce nod of your head sending them cascading down your cheeks until he wiped them away with a proud smile.

“I thought of another sign,” he said as he lifted his right hand up so his palm faced you before tucking his middle and ring finger back down. “When you see this, know that I love you.”

You raised your own hand and watched his tremble as you admitted what had been growing with each passing day since that first walk in the gardens. I love you.

Click here for part two.

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond fluff #deaf!reader #aemond fic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic

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ariseur · 3 months

Note

how about... a lazy, married morning w/ Nanami? i love your writing btw :3

kento nanami was beautiful, you thought — as you admired him for the umpteenth time this morning ( which technically, hadn’t been a lot of time considering it was only about six in the morning ).

squinting at the brightness of the large window beside your bed, you blinked wearily, rubbing the slight crust from your inner cornea and massaging your temple to adjust to the sight better. enduring the sun’s hatred was instead considered a blessing as you looked down at kento — with what once was creased brows only holds serenity in place of it.

his hair, typically slicked back as you’d recall all the times you’d giggle as he’d frustratedly try to stick down that one cowlick, now bed headed and messy. your lips pulled themselves into a soft smile as you tilted your head at his stirring, his fingers twitching along in sync with his slow breaths.

your hand traversed from underneath the warmth of the comforter and into the foreign coolness of the new air, finding its home in kento’s golden strands. a small sigh left his throat as your nails lightly scratched at his scalp, the scent of tea tree seeping into the air. his hand reached up to grab yours, locking around your wrist as he heard your soft giggles through his slumber.

“ken? kento, baby,” you muttered — almost cautious so as to not interrupt the silence so abruptly.

he turned his head at the call of his name, one eye peeking open quickly once he recognized it as your voice; ever so sweet with a dulcet lilt. nanami gave a sleepy, “hm?” before letting his eyes close once more, sinking back into the comfort of your shared mattress.

“don’t leave t’day, please.”

again, his eye peeked open at you before turning back over towards the window — brown iris morphing into a honey gold. “i promised gojo i’d arrive at the school earlier to talk about some things.”

your elbow flattened from under you, allowing you to lean down and curl around his side.

you pressed a kiss to the tendon of his bare bicep, “please?”

“if i could, i—“

“at least, stay in bed with me a little longer?” another kiss.

“my love,” he began with a soft huff before you pressed yet another kiss; this time trailing up his arm to string along the cords protruding from his throat. you felt the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, the way his mouth opened and closed in thought of a response, and you cherished all of it.

moments like these were rare with nanami, the pressure of your jobs always getting in between you two — not to mention the fact that somehow, as much as you loved those kids to death, ino and itadori would always somehow manage to cockblock you was frustrating. kento was grateful for whatever moments you had with each other, whether if they were spent in silence or filled with whispers of sweet nothings; anything was good when it came to you, he always told you.

“indulge in me for today, please? you’re just so wonderful,” a kiss.

“. . and sweet,” another kiss.

“. . and sexy—“

“i think i get the idea, sweetheart,” he laughed. you turned fully on your side to face him, your kisses coming to a half as he propped himself up on his elbows. your eyes couldn’t help but roam around his figure, lips subconsciously curling into a grin at the sight of your beloved merely existing.

“i’ll stay for a little while longer, but don’t be so sad when i leave, okay?” now both of his eyes fluttered open blearily to look at you, crinkling with the gentle, meager smile that flashed upon his face.

you nodded as you laid belly-up, sprawling your limbs out as the soft bedsheets rustle from your stretching.

kento nanami was beautiful, you thought — as you watched in awe at how the sun managed to perfectly reflect off of him. he was an angel to you, even with bed head and indents on his arms from how well he had slept. little did you know, that he felt the same way, and he spent the whole morning admiring you two, simply with his eyes half lidded enough for you to believe he was asleep. sometimes, witnessing something beautiful must come from being a little sneaky, he must admit.

𐙚 taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @ch3rryfiles

𐙚 requests are closed — july first, 2024 ( 2:02am )

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crosshairlovebot · 10 months

Text

moonlight devotions / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: you ask crosshair if he would still love you if you were a worm. he gives you his answer.

word count: 1,319

warnings: none. just fluff.

i have requests to do but this popped into my head while i was trying to sleep and i had to get it out first. this was fun to write! hope you enjoy <3

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

Moonlight streamed into the room, illuminating a path from the window to the bed, stretching across the bed sheets and Crosshair’s bare chest. It was a regular warm night on Pabu, but there was a sporadic cool breeze coming off the ocean that billowed the thin curtains. It wasn’t strong enough to reach the bed you both lay in, but it cooled the room slightly, pushing you up against Crosshair’s side – not that either of you complained at the closeness.

The lantern on your bedside table was barely lit, slowly dimming throughout the night as you whispered and spoke lowly to each other about anything and everything, even though there was no one else to risk waking in your shared bungalow. You had been talking for hours, too wired up to sleep straight away after a late dinner with his brothers and sister.

Now, you were in a lull of conversation, the only sound between you was your breathing. Crosshair’s arm encircled your frame in this position, holding you to his side, his thumb rubbing your arm softly. You had hooked one of your legs over his and drew patterns into the soft brown skin of his ribs with the tip of your finger, which broke out in prickles at your touch. You suppressed a yawn and angled your head up at him from the crook of his arm, studying his features. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply and evenly. His skin had tanned even more in the Pabu sun, and the crease between his brows was a little less prominent. You loved him like this. You knew he liked being like this too, even if he never expressed it in words.

“Cross?” you asked, flattening your hand against his solid stomach.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his hand squeezing your arm briefly.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

You delighted in the way his face creased in confusion. He looked down at you. “What?” he questioned, the word forming slowly.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” you repeated, lips itching to smile at him.

He looked at you, gears turning in his head as he processed your words. “Why would you be a worm?”

You turned in his grasp, so you lay on your stomach, his hand gently falling to your waist as he adjusted to look at you, the moonlight softening his face.

“Maybe there was a…sorceress who was jealous of your affection for me…and was so mad that she decided to curse me to being a worm forever,” you tried to keep a neutral expression, biting the inside of your mouth to stop it from curling in amusement.

Crosshair’s brow raised, his hand absentmindedly moving back and forth across your waist. “A sorceress?”

“Yes.”

Crosshair hummed before he thought for a moment. “Is it just you that’s a worm? Not me?”

“Just me.”

Crosshair hummed again. His hand still moving slowly, this time his fingers tracing circles on the small of your back, as he considered the question. “I guess.”

You gaped at him. “You guess?”

He raised a brow at you, lips quirking in an amused smirk. “Do you want me to say no?”

“No,” you poked him hard. “I want you to be more certain!”

Crosshair chuckled, his fingers still dancing over your skin. “Why do you want to know so bad, ka’tra?”

“Why are you avoiding the question?” you huffed.

Crosshair gave a rare grin, stretching his face. “I’m not.” You rolled your eyes. “Why are you asking me?” he asked, gently touching under your chin with his free hand.

You shrugged. “I would still love you. I’d make you a little house. Maybe even a little hat.”

Crosshair let out a breathy but confused laugh. “A hat?”

“You don’t want a worm hat?” you grinned.

“What do I need a hat for?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, worms don’t even have eyes.”

“You can still have a hat.”

Crosshair sighed, shaking his head, still smiling. “If you were a worm, would you be able to talk?”

“No, I’m a worm.”

Crosshair tapped his lips as if in thought. “Hmm…so it would be a lot quieter then…”

You laughed, shoving him playfully, though not hard enough for him to budge even an inch. He laughed warmly as he pulled you closer with both arms around you this time.

“I would still love you if you were a worm, ka’tra. Keep you in my pocket. Take you around. Make sure no one stepped on you or used you for fish bait,” he told you, burying his head in the crook of your neck, kissing you gently there.

“Such a romantic.”

Crosshair laughed along with you, his breath tickling you as the gravelly sound filled the room and rumbled in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and shifted you both, so he was on his back with you on top of him, chest to chest. You placed your head down on him, your ear above his heart. It beat steadily in there, as it should. It was a rhythm that comforted you beyond words. He ran one hand up and down your back, the ministration soothing you enough for your eyes to begin to get heavy and for your breathing to match his. You were on the fringes of sleep when you heard him a moment or several later.

“I would try and find a way to break the curse though,” he told you, his voice almost a whisper, his gaze stuck on the ceiling again. You lifted your head to look at him, chin resting on his sternum. You were a little surprised at his declaration, and yet…not at all. He was just like that – devoted, even in hypothetical and impossible scenarios.

You smiled softly at him, touched. “You would?”

Crosshair met your eyes, his hands slowing to a stop. “I’d miss your voice…and this,” his hands stopped and wrapped around you, so he held you tight against his body. “I’d miss holding you…having you close.”

You smiled and sat up, his arms sliding against your sides as you moved to straddle him. “You could hold me in your palm if I was a worm.” You grabbed his hand and circled his palm with your finger, then kissed it.

Crosshair shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the same…” he sat up, that same hand reaching up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. You gazed at him, the side of his face lit by the moon, the soft brown of his eyes full of something he only ever let you see. You could count the lines on his face that had appeared from the Pabu sun and see the inconsistencies in the lines of his tattoo, where the ink had bled into the texture of his skin. Words couldn’t express the ways in which you loved him.

His hands fell to your hips as he leaned in to capture your lips in his, kissing you sweetly but not without the searing heat that all his kisses held. With your arms wrapped around his neck, he drew you closer and you rocked yourself forward, moaning softly into his mouth as you pressed your heart into his as if they could be physically fused together. His grip on your hips tightened before he slowly pulled away, kissing down your jaw to behind your ear.

“Couldn’t do that either,” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

“Good thing you’re going to break the curse.”

He pressed one more kiss on your temple. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

He laid back down, pulling you with him. Tiredness suddenly seeped into your body, and you looked to see the lantern was now completely out. You sighed as you lay against his chest, letting your heavy eyelids close as Crosshair’s hand moved slowly up and down your back just as it did before, soothing you to sleep.

banner art by @vimse

mando'a / ka'tra = night sky thank you for reading! <3 hope you enjoyed this little bit of fluff! i'm on a mission to write as much soft crosshair as i can. wanted to get this out before i finished off the gen requests that have been patiently waiting to be completed. once i finish those requests, i have a few other fic ideas stuffed in my brain so stay tuned :')

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @ladyanidala @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @snarky-mans-gf @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @rexamongthestars @r2d2staser @bluebird-dreams @pb-jellybeans @a-streakofblue @theawkwardartist12 @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo

TAGLIST FORM

#larissa writes #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader fic #crosshair fluff #soft crosshair #tbb x reader #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair fic #the bad batch fluff #crosshair the bad batch #tbb crosshair #bad batch crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you

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rayassecretlife · 2 years

Text

Do you still love me?

Pairing: Aged up!Neteyam Sully x Fem!Omaticaya!reader

Summary: You and Neteyam’s family has stayed the same for many years, only one daughter who was now 4. But you fear that Neteyam doesn’t want more, scared he had fallen out of love with you after the birth.

Warning(s): Mature language, mentions of miscarriage, dad!Neteyam being a warning himself, just a lot of fluff and angst etc. not proof read

“Mama!” Your ears twitched at the voice, your daughters crying voice echoing through high camp. You had been working on one of the hunters but quickly excused yourself at her call, pushing past the groups of people to get to her voice. “Where is mama!”

“Aratakai!” The people moved away from you once they noticed, all bowing their heads as you passed and apologizing for stepping in the way. You finally got to the center of the circle, a sigh of relief leaving your chest as you made eye contact with her. “What’s wrong?” She runs to you, clinging to your leg like she had been scared somebody would take her away. You looked up at the other person, forehead creasing at him.

“Look, Y/N-“

“Bad men! Bad men!” Your four year old cries against your leg and your eyes quickly glare at him, watching his ears fall. “Try to get uncle Lo’ak”

“Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to bring her in the middle I-“

“You brought her on your scouting trip?!” Your voice is enough to alert the whole village and everyone around you is staring at Lo’ak, watching in fear of when Neteyam would approach. He was nowhere to be seen, which was a surprise being that he could feel your emotions and most definitely could feel your rage. “I won’t even let Neteyam bring her outside the barriers! Her own father!”

“She was already out there!” He interrupts, kneeling down to your daughter who had been clinging to your leg. “Arat, tell her what you were-“

“Enough!” You hiss, reaching down to pull her into your arms. Your heart was beating terribly fast, and her cries only made it worse. “I thought you grew out of your immature faze, Lo’ak. I guess I was wrong-“

“T-try get the fruit, mama” You looked down at your daughters face, tears staining her small cheeks. “Uncle Lo’ak take me home” Your ears flatten at her words, taking a second to look back at your brother in law. He understood your frustration, he wasn’t mad at you for snapping.

“Lo’ak-“

“Make way!” One of the hunters called, the very large Ikran coming to the group. Lo’ak gave you a reassuring look and you nodded, hand pulling your daughters head to lay against you, making sure she felt safe.

“Ma’Tìyawn, what happened?” Neteyam’s voice makes her lift her head, now allowing him to see her tears. You could feel his fear and anger raise almost instantly, looking around to find the route of the problem. “Arat-“

“She got into the forest, Neteyam” You tell him, now feeling your own tears ghost your eyes. You were so worried, so angry that someone had brought her down there. She was only 4, there was no way she could’ve made it herself—not without an Ikran. “Somebody brought her down there”

Your husband looks around at your clan, jaw clenched tightly with his eyes strained on each and every one of their faces. When Arat was born, he set strict rules to never bring any harm to her. The people were sworn to protect her at all costs, so who the hell put her in danger?

Whoever it was, he was going to find out—and he was going to kill them. There was no debate about that.

“Lo’ak found her… brought her home” His eyes turn to his younger brother, watching his eyes soften at the sight of him. When Lo’ak found her, he didn’t know how she had even gotten there—so confused he searched the area for the person.

But he got caught between sky people, and Arat almost got hurt. He had never been more disappointed in himself—never been so terrified something could happen.

You and Neteyam kept her secluded from anything that involved danger. It was your biggest fear that something could happen to her because even though you’d feel like this with any child of yours, she was your only one.

You needed to protect her.

He thanked his brother before turning back to you, noticing how badly you’d been holding your tears back. “If you saw anything of my daughter leaving high camp, I suggest you tell me” He raises his voice to the clan, anger even worse now that his family was upset. “I will find whoever did this. And if not me, you better pray she doesn’t find you” The clan chants to him and his word, knowing their fear of you and neteyam was much greater then their fear of the sky people.

“As I’ve said before, my daughters safety is all of your priorities in battle! Let one finger touch her, I won’t hesitate to retaliate against you, do I make myself clear!” You close your eyes as you stroke your daughters hair, letting a few tears fall from your eyes with a sigh. You just wanted to go home now. “You are dismissed”

Lo’ak places a hand on your shoulder and presses a small kiss to his nieces head before leaving, Neteyam finally turning to tend to you and your daughter.

“Y/N-“

“I want to go home” You ignore him, turning to walk back to your cave with Arat still in your arms. He followed of course, but very confused as to why you were acting so angry at him. Why were you so upset? He understood, but there is nothing more he can do.

“Fruit?” Your daughters voice is soft against your ear and you sigh, nodding your head with a sniffle as you set her down onto her feet. Neteyam leaned against the doorway, watching your every move as you put out some of the fresh fruit you had from before. “Thanks, mama” her little lisp surfaces and Neteyam couldn’t help but chuckle, watching you wipe off her tear stained cheeks.

“Excuse me” You cleared your throat before making your way into you and Neteyam’s shared room, not even making it to the bed until his voice chimed in.

“Can you talk to me?” You continued to ignore your mate, walking over to the basket that sat on the floor to pull your small cover up from it. You already knew this argument that was bound to happen. Always doing this around in circles bullshit. “Y/N”

“Leave me alone, Neteyam. Please” yeah, now he knew you were mad. Usually you’d be all over him by now, knowing that he had to work a lot and most of the time wasn’t home to spend time with you unless it was at night before going to bed. What he didn’t know, are the thoughts you’ve been having the past couple of days.

Before you gave birth to your daughter, Neteyam would talk about wanting a huge family. He wanted boys, girls, even a pet. You wanted all those things with him, but as soon as you gave birth—it was like everything you had planned changed.

Neteyam never showed interest in mating any more, barely even seeing you during the day due to his duties. You’d cry when he wasn’t around, wishing you still had that teenage fever love. Was it the birth? Did he not love you anymore? It was so unusual for a Na’vi to lose interest in their mate, but your relationship just felt so one sided.

And then there was the miscarriage.

The loss of your second baby took a huge toll on your relationship for the worst. Neteyam and you would be constantly fighting, and you didn’t work for the longest time just trying to get out of the cave. You felt useless, the people hadn’t seen their Tsahìk for many two weeks.

That is the reason you were so protective over your daughter. She was the only child you had and probably would ever get to have. It stung, you loved the idea of a big family. You never even bothered to confront him.

“Y/N, I can feel your upset with me. What is wrong?” He grabs your hand, turning you to face him. His face was full of worry, taking in the sight of your tears in front of him. Eywa, how he hated it when you cried. His hands reach to cup your face but you push them away.

“Don’t act like you care now” His forehead creases at your words and he’s already shaking his head, more then confused as to what you had been talking about.

“What? Your crying, My love. Of course I’m gonna care-“

“Really? Because you didn’t the last few weeks” Now he was full on mugging you, knowing for a fact that if you had been crying he would’ve known. He would have felt your sadness… he should have felt everything. “Our daughter could’ve gotten hurt today, Neteyam. Where were you?”

“She’s here, isn’t she? I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but you know I have duties and you cannot worry so much. I will find out who took her-“

“Not worry so much? I don’t have a choice, Neteyam! She’s our only daughter! Our only child! If I lose her… Oh Eywa, if we lost her…” You shook your head, wiping your tears as they quickly began to fall. “She’s all I’ve ever wanted, Nete. I can’t lose her”

“That’s what this is about? Why were you crying before-“

“Because you don’t love me anymore!” You snap, your husbands jaw dropping at your accusation. Didn’t love you? Was that a joke? “Y-you promised me a family, and I give birth and you just lose all interest in me!”

“Y/N-“

“I’ve gone through so many heat cycles, Neteyam. If you don’t want more just tell me!” He was took aback by your sudden outburst, hand pulling your waist so you could be closer to him. “And then the miscarriage… Am I just not good enough anymore?”

Eywa, you were so clueless. “Not good enough? Was that a joke?” He reaches up to cup your face in his hands, finally being able to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Y/N, my mate, my wife, my beautiful fucking Tsahìk—you really believe I don’t love you anymore?”

“Everyday I wake up to you sleeping next to me, praying to Eywa that she keeps you safe while I’m gone. Telling you how beautiful you are everytime I see you, bringing home gifts for you and Arat, talking peoples ears off about you. I can’t even remember what my life was like when I wasn’t in love with you”

“And mating? I’ve always wanted to, but it’s been so long I didn’t think you wanted to anymore… and Arat’s birth hurt you so much I didn’t want to hurt you again” He thumbs away your tears, lifting your head so you could stare directly at him. “The miscarriage was not your fault, Baby. I promise you, everything you’ve been feeling, is the exact opposite of what I feel”

“Because I love you, and I want to build a family with you. I still want it all with you, Y/N. You hear me? Don’t cry, don’t cry because of this” His confession only made your tears worsen, arms wrapping around him tightly so you could cry. You were so naive, so stupid to believe he didn’t love you. Neteyam was a busy man, you should have known.

“I don’t want to lose you, Teyam” he shushes you, hand caressing the small of your back and your hair. Lose him? As if you could get rid of him that easily. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, I wish you would’ve told me before so I could’ve fixed it” He sighs against you, pulling away after awhile and almost instantly taking your head back into his hands. “I love you so fucking much, Y/N. Do you hear me? Never say something like that ever again”

You sniffle, nodding your head with a small smile, leaning into your mate to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you so much more” He only pulls you back in, hands gently resting on your throat just to hold you there. He wanted you to know he was there, not going anywhere anytime soon.

“So, about baby number two?”

This is probably bad, I threw this together randomly butttttt finished in an hour so new record ��. Enjoy this little fluff while I prepare my smut writings!!

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