#nothing comforts me more than the thought of being buried. a soft comforting weight like a blanket. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milla-frenchy · 2 months ago

Text

Home

3k7 | Marcus Acacius x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Acacius returns from Numidia several months after his departure, and comes back to his wife

Warnings: 18+ mdni. fluff, smut, established relationship, Acacius and reader are married and deeply in love, Acacius is devoted to his wife (he’s soft, protective, caring and slightly possessive), oral (m/f), oil massages, size kink, piv, creampie. No age specified

a/n: this fic is just soft and sweet and I hope it will bring comfort to those who need it. This is my love letter to Acacius, basically, after watching Gladiator 2 (no spoilers towards the movie). I love this character so much. I did some research but I'm not an expert on ancient Rome at all.

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for always holding my hand and for beta-ing, @joelmillerisapunk for cheering me up, @iamasaddie for being a sunshine- 🫶💓 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

You felt his presence before he even spoke.

You knew he was here, because all your worries, all the tension in your body, dissipated instantly. All the weight accumulated during those last months was removed from your shoulders, allowing your body to relax and open up.

"My lady..," you heard.

You stood up and faced him, turning away from the fish pond. You murmured his name then hurried towards him to snuggle against his broad, protective chest, where nothing bad could reach you. His arms surrounded you, as his lips kissed your forehead and your hands slid along his waist to his back. The warmth radiated from him, warming your entire being, body and soul.

"You are here, my love," you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You had been holding them back for so long. Too long. Because you didn't want to seem weak, and because you didn't want to let your brain swallow you up in its darkness.

But now Acacius was here, and you could allow your fragility to consume you for a moment, to be your true self, letting your emotions overwhelm you. Because you knew that he would want to absorb them for you, to protect you. To be your man.

"I'm finally here. I missed you, you have no idea. You were always in my thoughts, my beloved.”

You hugged each other tighter, and you buried your face in his chest, rubbing against him, like a cat that marks its territory with its scent.

"I missed you too, Acacius," you replied, finally raising your face to his, staring into those soft brown eyes that you missed so much. The eyes of your husband who had returned from Numidia. Returned victorious, as always, but the worry never left you when he was gone. The intrusive thoughts that made you fear that he wouldn’t come back to you, that he had perished. Or worse, taken prisoner. The highest representative of the Roman Empire on the battlefield, the general of Rome, gods only knew what they would do to him.

Caressing his cheek with your thumb, you chased away those dark thoughts to let yourself enjoy the present. Your husband, your love was there. You brushed his wrinkles, as you took the time to admire his slightly grayer curls, before running your fingers through them.

"You are even more beautiful than when I left," he said in a low, calm voice. You smiled when you heard him, moved by his love for you that was radiating from him. Love that had never wavered during your marriage. He always came back to you, as soon as he had dealt with the burdens placed upon him by the emperors he hated.

"Let me feed you, my love," you said. "And bathe you."

You walked toward the caldarium, his arm around your shoulder, yours around his waist, your body pressed against his. You were holding each other close as you were walking, it had been so long since he left for Africa nova.

“I cleaned myself before I went to the coliseum. You don’t have to, you know?”

“I know. But I love to do it, even if it’s only symbolic.”

He smiled warmly and saw you melt under his stare, then pressed a kiss on your temple to forget the fast beating of his own heart.

You undressed him slowly, layer by layer. Taking the time to place your hands on his chest before you would remove the last fabric, to feel his torso rise under your fingers. To process the fact that he was really back with you. He watched you roam his chest, shoulders, arms along his body, face lowered towards you. Smiling, patient. Soothed.

Once you managed to stop staring at his skin, his muscles, the way his body reacted to your touch, you tilted your head up to meet his eyes. You both smiled, happy and relieved to finally find each other again. You always marveled at his softness, that side of him only you knew.

Your fingers ran along his skin, and you frowned at each new wound you felt under your digits.

“You have so many new scars,” you said with a trembling voice. “I thank the gods for bringing you back to me.”

“Thank the soldiers, my love, they kept me alive,” he replied, brushing your cheek with his thumb. He had great respect for his men, treated them well, and had their complete trust. Tears appeared in your eyes again, and he gently took your chin between his fingers to lift your face up to him.

“I’m here now,” he said, his voice still low and calm. He knew you needed to be reassured, that meeting again always made his next departures more difficult, for both of you. He knew you were already anticipating them.

“I know,” you stammered. “I know. I just missed you a lot.” You tried to push aside the worries that were already trying to infiltrate your mind.

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, I wish I never had to leave. But I have great news: I won't have to go for now. I told the emperors that I wanted to rest and spend time with my wife. Darius will lead the next battle, he's ready.”

“This is such great news, Acacius!” you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and nestling your face in his neck. “I'm so relieved.”

He held you against him, before cupping your cheeks in his hands and resting his forehead against yours.

You moved slightly aside to pull off the last layer of clothing, freeing his half-hard cock. You thought about it so often when he was away as your fingers were buried inside you.

You covered him in oil and massaged his shoulders to relieve his physical tension. Then his chest, arms, palms and belly, taking your time. Gently, your fingers worked his skin, finding their favorite spots and his. Lingering there.

Finally, you faced him and took his shaft in hand, before jerking him off gently under the pretext of applying the oil, but you both felt the need grow.

You then asked him to sit in the warm water, and got undressed. The expression in his eyes changed from softness to eagerness and desire while he was watching you.

Fully hard, he stood up when you approached the bath, holding out his hand to accompany you down the steps.

“Sit on me,” he murmured in your ear, his beard brushing your skin. You straddled him, placing your hands on his cheeks before playing with his curls. You leaned down and finally kissed him, tasting his warm, soft, luscious lips. You both moaned and it made you smile, as you felt yourself mesmerized by him being finally there, with you.

He caressed your lips with his tongue, then slid it between them. Your tongues found each other, for the first time in months, and you felt dizzy, savoring him again. His hands roamed your back, squeezed your skin sometimes, while your kiss was only growing more feral and needy. Unable to wait any longer, you grabbed his cock and nestled it at your entrance, making him growl from the depth of his chest.

“Slowly,” he stammered. “No foreplay… don’t hurt yourself.”

“Can’t promise it,” you smiled. It was almost a lie, both of you knew it, you couldn’t take him slowly, your need to feel him being too strong. You sank onto his shaft with your arms resting on his broad shoulders, and you had to bite him slightly when the fat head of his cock began spreading you wide open, until you welcomed him fully, leaving both of you breathless for a second.

“That wasn’t exactly slow,” he laughed once he caught his breath, his hand against the back of your neck as you peppered his collarbone with kisses, your cunt full of him.

“Couldn’t wait,” you breathed and kept kissing him, slowly moving up and down his shaft, mixing your moans with his, your forehead against his. Your breaths mingled, similar in their urgency.

“I missed you. I missed you,” you repeated, while one of his hands was caressing your back, the other resting on your hip to accompany your movements, but sometimes pushing you slightly more down his cock.

“Me too, my love. Finally feeling you like that, wrapped around my cock, is almost unreal after all that time. But I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he said in a breathless voice. “It’s been too long since I felt the warmth of your cunt. Only my hand could give me a release when thoughts about you invaded my mind.”

“Now I’m here. Use me. Come,” you added, rubbing yourself against his lower stomach, knowing you would come soon too.

He held you tight in his arms, setting his pace, fast, powerful, to the point that the water overflowed from the bath with every move. He chased his orgasm, growling in your ear, his body surrounding yours, and you let him use you willingly until his grunts turned into moans and he froze, coming inside you. You pulsed on his shaft just after, milking his cock, feeling him shudder inside you.

You let him catch his breath and his wits before facing him, your hands on his cheeks, and covered his lips, cheeks, forehead with kisses. Already thinking about the moment you would go to your bedroom, and finally take the time to rediscover each other.

Washed, you had dinner, and you told him what happened during his absence. Life in Rome, the dream of Marcus Aurelius long forgotten. The emperors were hated by the subjects, and the cruel games were still allowed.

His worry was growing as he was listening to you. Each time he left, he was afraid a revolt would take place and he wouldn’t be there to protect you.

He asked you the question that had been burning his lips since his return, but that he was holding back, afraid of your answer.

“Did… did anyone hurt you while I was away?” he asked, eyes lowered to the ground, your hands in his. Then finally forcing himself to look at you and hear your answer.

“No, Acacius,” you answered quickly, eager to remove that weight from his shoulders and his heart. “Nothing happened to me, don’t worry.” You knew that he would lose his mind if someone hurt you, just like those who had hurt you would lose their heads.

He kissed your hands when he heard you, keeping them between his, brushing them with his thumbs.

“I couldn't stand it if that happened,” he added, voice shaking.

“I know, my love. But the guards protect me. The ones you chose, and trust completely. I am safe.”

He nodded, even though both of you knew he would never be calm during his absences.

Once fed, he told you about the new conquests. You felt the weariness on his shoulders and in his eyes. His anger. The emperors were making him lose patience, every day a little more.

“Enough about this,” he said finally. “I don't want my return to be full of sadness and bitterness. I saw how tense your body is, I will help you relax with some oil, like you did to me.”

“Acacius… you need to rest after these last few months. Not to take care of me,” you replied softly.

“I am your husband,” he said gently but firmly, moving closer to you until he took your hand in his and kissed it. “Your man. There’s nothing else that I want to do more.” You looked at him and smiled.

Once in the bedroom, he asked you to undress and lie down naked on your stomach. He poured some oil in his hands, and rubbed them together. He didn't take his eyes off you until you were on the bed. "You're so beautiful," he said. “I’m gonna take care of you. I missed it.”

He started by massaging your neck, with perfect pressure. Hands flat, he pressed his thumbs against each tense spot, helping to release the tension step by step. You felt your muscles relax at his touch, from your neck to your shoulders. Once satisfied with the way your body responded to his movements, he coated his hands with oil again, then he took care of your lower back. Your pelvis had been stuck for weeks, and you knew that he would do wonders, as always. That the next day, when you woke up, it would be free of its tensions.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, kissing your shoulder, his moustache brushing your skin.

“Better than ever. Thank you, my love.”

“Perfect. Turn around now, please." You rolled onto your back, and you saw his eyes linger on your breasts for a few seconds, nipples hard after his hands on you.

“Well, General?” you chuckled.

“Mmm. I was staring, wasn’t I? I missed them too,” he confessed, blushing slightly, which was cute, coming from him.

He massaged your arms then your thighs, one by one, down to your ankles and feet, careful not to touch your breasts or even look at them, as if that would end the session prematurely. You didn't take your eyes off him, watching his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his tongue brushing his lip, his teeth nibbling on it.

Finally, you saw his gaze fixed on your pussy, something he had also avoided until then. The candlelight certainly didn’t allow him to see, but he probably knew you were flowing down to the bed. His hand slid from your ankle to your thigh, then brushed your folds before slipping between them, making you whine, as you heard the grunt of approval when his finger got lost in your wetness.

He took a deep breath and said “I’m too eager to taste you, now. But tomorrow I will touch, lick, worship your whole body. I want to kiss you, from your forehead to your toes. Take back what’s mine.”

“I’m yours, always, Acacius. Whether you are here or not.”

“I know, my sweet girl, I know. As I’m yours. Ad vitam aeternam. (forever)”

He got undressed and you loved that he took his time doing it, with a soft smile on his lips. You loved knowing that he would be there with you for several weeks. Every day and every night.

You were never tired of looking at him. His body was a gift from the gods. His strong neck, with veins bulging every time he thrust into you. His broad shoulders, his belly slightly softer as the years passed. His large hands, next to which yours seemed tiny.

His cock.

So massive that on your wedding night you had been so afraid that you had thought of running away. But he had assured you that he would be gentle and go slowly, that he would take care of you. After another hesitation you had chosen to trust him, his tone, his gaze, and two nights later it had seemed that you had been physically made for each other.

But more than his body, his personality, his loyalty, the way he cared about you, made him a loving, reliable, protective husband. You thanked the gods every day for making him yours.

Once naked, he knelt on the bed between your thighs, gently spreading them, finally revealing your pussy. Again, he took a deep breath. His thumb ran over your wet folds.

“You’re drooling for me.”

He lay down, bringing his face closer to your pussy and breathing it in. “Gods, I missed it.”

His tongue traced a stripe between your folds, up to your clit, making you whine. He looked up at you, adding “now, you’re gonna feed me.”

He dove between your thighs, eyes closed, your folds spread by his thumbs, burying his tongue in your core. Feasting, like he did each time he came back, but not only. From the wedding night, and all the others that followed, he had shown you how much he loved eating you out, pulling orgasm after orgasm, sometimes two in a row because he didn’t want to or couldn't stop.

“Acacius,” you whimpered while his nose was rubbing perfectly against your clit. As he had learned during all those years the way your body responded to him.

Back arched, hands lost in his curls, you moved in harmony with his mouth and his tongue, reaching for him, rolling your hips towards him. He pulled back for a few seconds to look at you, and smiled when you cried for his loss. His beard and mustache glistened with your slick and his pupils were dilated as if he had consumed opium to heal a wound. He leaned towards you again, pushing one thick finger between your folds and then sucking your clit. He quickly added a second digit when he heard your needy moans, and licked at your clit. Your hands moved from his curls to your breasts, then to the sheets, your fists clenching on them.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, pelvis tilted towards him as far as possible, as if he wasn't already so close to you. The pleasure that was growing in your core finally exploded, hands and thighs holding his head against your cunt, not wanting him to stop. Docile, he kept licking and pumping you with his fingers, until you stopped clenching on them and released him.

He straightened up, crawling between your thighs, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking on it like his life depended on it before moving on to the other, leaving them glistening with his saliva. Finally, lying between your thighs, he kissed you, his mouth and lips tasting like you.

“I want to taste you too, please,” you begged.

“Of course, my sweet girl. You don’t have to ask. I’m all yours.”

You kissed him before he rolled onto his back, and you straddled him. Covering his cheeks, lips, neck with kisses, then moving down to his torso, hands roaming over his skin. You took one of his nipples in your mouth, sucking, nibbling, licking, then the other, without taking your eyes off him. Admiring his beautiful face. You continued to move down, kissing his belly and hips, your breasts brushing his hard, oozing cock. You took his shaft in hand, and licked his balls, eyes still fixed on him, to see him drop his head back on the bed. “Gods..,” you heard him breathe.

You smiled and left his balls to suck on his tip, lingering on it, giving you some time to get used to its width, to savor him in your mouth again. His precum flowed in your throat. He had been gone for so long that you were afraid you had forgotten the taste, but it was so familiar again now. Your head bobbing on his shaft, you wanted to make him feel good, wetness dripping from your cunt, moaning on his shaft, and you closed your eyes until you heard him growl louder. Then opened them to see his head raised towards you. One of his hands was placed on the back of your neck.

“You like it, General?” you asked playfully, then licked his shaft tongue flat.

“It’s divine.”

You crawled towards him, arousal dripping from your core after sucking him, you kissed his body again and then his lips, before murmuring “take me.”

His eyes darkened and in one movement he laid you down on the bed, under him. Pressing his cock to your entrance, this time he didn't wait, hands tight on your hips, he pushed his whole lenght into your cunt. His massive cock, so hard that you lost your breath. He never took his eyes off you, dark gaze lowered towards you, soft eyes forgotten in favor of a feral stare. He was possessive, claiming your body as he claimed cities during battles, like his body and mind needed it. Like you needed it too.

You tried to keep your eyes open, to look at him, leaning towards you, eyebrows furrowed, veins throbbing. But the relentless rhythm of his shaft spreading your walls made you forget where you were, leaving you moaning and repeating his name. You clung to his shoulders, telling him how much you loved to feel him again, how much you needed it.

“Always taking me so well”, he growled, and you hummed with approval.

He slid his hand to the back of your neck, holding you close, his nose against your ear. He breathed you in, focused on your moans, eager to have all his senses filled with you, after months of being surrounded by dirt, screams and blood.

He was home now, you were his home.

“Acacius,” you whined, his crotch rubbing perfectly where you needed it.

“Come for me. Soak me.”

“Oh gods… Acacius… Acacius,” you whimpered, your orgasm rushing over you, making you pulse on his shaft, your clit throbbing against his skin.

“Just like that, squeezing me so hard… you were made for me,” he murmured, his breathing now ragged as his own pleasure rose.

“I’m… oh gods,” he said, just before cumming inside you, long spurts of cum painting your walls in white. You held him tighter against you, as he moaned in your ear. Your general of Rome, now the most vulnerable man in your arms.

His jolts finally stopped and he straightened up slightly, careful not to crush you under his weight. He covered your skin with kisses, from your neck to your lips, before rolling onto his side and welcoming you against his chest, arms wrapped around your bare body. Both of you waited for your breathings to calm down.

“I cherish it, you know,” you said, curled up against his chest.

“What do you cherish?” he asked, caressing your skin with his large, loving hands.

“Having you like this, in these moments. It always seems unreal to me, your softness and protectiveness towards me, knowing that you lead battles for Rome. Everyone who fought near you evokes your cold blood.”

He hugged you closer and kissed your forehead, brushing it for a moment with his moustache.

“I love you. I’m only myself when I’m home, with you.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

npt ❤️ tagging those who showed interest in the wip post, love you ❤️

@jessthebaker @schnarfer @sawymredfox @itwasntimethatdidit40 @mothandpidgeon

@pascalssbabyy @iknowisoundcrazy @thundermartini @604to647 @baronessvonglitter

#marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #pedro pascal #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x female reader #pedro pascal characters #general acacius

843 notes · View notes

sadnymi · 10 months ago

Text

「 ✦ Euphoria. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle x Inexperienced!reader]

Request: can you perhaps do an inexperienced reader x mattheo with like thigh riding and dry humping .

Words: 2.400

Warning: thighs riding, dry humping, f(orgasm), fluff ,smut .

Sat alone at the top of the Astronomy Tower, hidden away from prying eyes, consumed by the weight of my emotions. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably, my sobs echoing off the stone walls as I struggled to contain the storm raging within me.

Suddenly, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, I looked up to see Mattheo, his concerned eyes searching mine. He pushed the strands of hair away from my face, brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

"What's wrong, my love?" he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "Why are you crying like this Y/N?"

I hiccupped through my tears, unable to form words as the pain threatened to overwhelm me. But Mattheo pulled me into his arms, holding me close as he whispered sweet words of comfort and reassurance.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my wounded soul. "You can tell me anything, darling. I promise I'll fix it for you. I hate to see tears in those beautiful eyes."

His words melted away the walls around my heart, and I buried my face in his chest, letting myself be enveloped by his love and warmth. In that moment, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as I had Mattheo by my side, everything would be okay.

“He called me a prude," I choked out, my voice trembling with emotion. "He said I ruined our date because I wouldn't let him touch me. He said so many hurtful things...".

Mattheo's expression softened with understanding as he listened attentively, his arms wrapped protectively around me. "I'm so sorry, my love," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"You did nothing wrong. You have every right to set boundaries and expect respect and he’s going to pay for each tear that falls from your eyes."

His words washed over me like a soothing balm, calming the storm of doubts and insecurities raging within me. "I just wanted to feel wanted," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "To go on a date like the other girls..."

"You are wanted, more than you could ever know," he insisted, his gaze burning with intensity. "Not by just anyone, but by someone who sees your worth, your beauty, your intelligence, and your kindness. Someone who loves you for exactly who you are."

His words struck a chord deep within me, touching a part of my soul that I had thought long buried beneath layers of self-doubt. "But I'm a prude," I protested weakly, the label still echoing in my mind.

Mattheo's expression softened, his eyes filled with an emotion that sent a shiver down my spine. "You're not,"

"Baby, it's not like that," he reassured me, his voice gentle but firm. "You're not a prude. Those boys don't even deserve one tear from those beautiful eyes."

I gazed at him, my heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief at his heartfelt words. His unwavering belief in me, his unwavering love, it was overwhelming. And as I looked into his eyes, filled with an intensity that took my breath away.

"But I'm inexperienced," I admitted quietly, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

His response was immediate, his tone filled with unwavering confidence. "You're just waiting for the right person," he assured me, his gaze steady.

I met his eyes, searching for the courage to express the feelings that swirled within me. I longed to tell him in that moment that he was the only boy who mattered to me, that my heart beat for him alone. But the fear of rejection held me back. He was Mattheo, and I was just me. How could I dare to dream of being more than his best friend?

"But what if the right person never sees me? What if they never develop feelings for me?" I questioned, my voice betraying my uncertainty.

His response was gentle yet firm, his touch tender as he held my face in his hands. "Then you need to look more closely," he replied, his eyes flickering briefly to my lips before meeting mine once more.

As his breath caressed my face, his proximity sending a wave of anticipation coursing through me, I closed my eyes, unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing us together. I felt the gentle brush of his finger against my lower lip, a tender gesture that sent a shiver of excitement down my spine.

"Why are you wasting your time with those stupid boys, baby?" his voice was a soft murmur, laden with sincerity and affection. I dared to open my eyes, finding myself lost in the intensity of his gaze. He was so close, his presence enveloping me in warmth and reassurance.

And then, without hesitation, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that stole my breath away. His lips were soft, so achingly soft against mine, yet the kiss held a passion and longing that left me utterly breathless.

In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time. His lips moved against mine with a gentle urgency, as if he was pouring all his unspoken feelings into the kiss. It was my first kiss, but it felt like so much more – it felt like the culmination of every unspoken desire and every hidden longing we had ever shared.

I melted into his embrace, my hands finding their way to his shoulders as I surrendered myself completely to the intoxicating sweetness of his kiss. The world around us ceased to exist as we lost ourselves in each other, our hearts beating as one in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

And as our lips finally parted, leaving us both breathless and flushed with desire

" you kissed me," I whispered, my voice barely a breath as I searched his eyes for answers.

He smiled, a softness in his gaze that made my heart flutter. "It took me so long to, but I did," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and longing.

"Why did you kiss me?" I couldn't help but ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Because I felt like I would have died if I didn't," he confessed, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through me.

I looked at him, my heart pounding in my chest as I dared to ask the question that had been lingering on my mind. "Do you... do you like me too?"

His response was immediate, his voice filled with a raw intensity that took my breath away. "Fuck, baby," he moaned, his words a desperate plea. "I'm in love with you. So deeply in love with you."

As he kissed me again, I melted into him, lost in the sensation of his lips against mine. But then I felt something beneath me, and I pulled back, concern etching my features.

"See, that's what you do to me," he murmured, his voice strained with desire.

I gasped, realizing the effect I was having on him. "It feels good," I admitted, my cheeks flushing with heat.

He smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "What feels good, baby?" he teased, his hands roaming over my body.

"this... Mattheo, oh i this so good I want more ," I confessed, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through me.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his grip tightening on my thighs as I moved against him again.

But then, I felt a pang of worry. "I'm so sorry, Mattheo. Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," I babbled, my nerves getting the best of me.

He hushed me gently, his touch soothing my frayed nerves. "Shhh, my sweet girl, you did nothing wrong. It's just... if you continue to do that, it might....." he trailed off, his words leaving me hanging in suspense.

I swallowed hard, feeling a rush of embarrassment wash over me. "Did you ever experience the feeling of orgasm before? I mean, with yourself," he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding.

I shook my head, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "No," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

But instead of judgment, I found only warmth and reassurance in his gaze. He smiled gently and kissed me again, his lips tender against mine.

"So that makes you feel good?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. As I nodded, he continued, "I'm going to give you more, but let's take it step by step, okay?"

I nodded eagerly, desperate for more of the pleasure he could offer. And as he trailed kisses along my neck, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine, I knew that I was in good hands.

As his hands trailed up my thighs, pushing my dress higher until my wet panties were exposed, I felt a surge of anticipation coursing through me. His touch was electric, igniting a fire deep within me that I couldn't extinguish.

With a gentle yet firm hand, he guided me to straddle his thigh, positioning me so that I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against me. I gasped at the sensation, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.

"You're so fucking sexy," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "I love seeing you like this, all wet and ready for me."

I moaned in response, the sensation of his thigh against my throbbing core driving me wild with need. And as he began to move me against him, guiding my hips with his hands, I felt a wave of pleasure building deep within me.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with approval. "That's it, ride my thigh just like that."

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he continued to move me against him. With each thrust of my hips, I felt the tension building, the pleasure mounting with every stroke.

His lips found mine in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as he urged me to let go of my inhibitions. "Don't be afraid, baby," he murmured against my lips. "Just feel it."

But with each movement, I could feel my pussy throbbing against his hard thigh, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. And then, as if by instinct, I shifted my hips, seeking more contact, more friction.

Mattheo groaned in response, his grip tightening on my hips as I ground against him with reckless abandon. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good against me."

And then, as the pleasure reached its peak, I felt something new, something I had never experienced before. It was a tightness in my stomach, a fluttering sensation that seemed to radiate throughout my entire body.

"What... what is this feeling?" I gasped, my voice filled with uncertainty as I struggled to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through me.

He kissed and sucked my neck gently, his lips sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. "Don't be afraid, my sweet girl," he whispered. "That's pleasure, and you deserve every bit of it."

I moaned in response, the sensation of his lips against my skin driving me wild with desire. With every movement, I felt myself drawing closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

I moved my hips against his thigh, craving more of the friction that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. His grip tightened on my hips, his touch electric as he guided me in my movements.

I felt a new hunger stirring deep within me. I wanted more, I needed more, and I knew that he was the only one who could give it to me.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely a whisper. "I want more."

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with lust as he moved me against him, his own arousal pressing against me now. "You want more, baby?" he growled, his hands gripping my hips possessively. "Then let me give it to you."

With a wicked grin, he shifted me slightly, guiding me so that I could feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against my soaked panties. As he moved me against him, the friction sent bolts of pleasure shooting through me, and I couldn't help but moan in response.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Feel how hard you make me. Feel what you do to me."

I whimpered as he continued to move me against him, the pleasure mounting with every stroke. His lips found mine in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing with mine as he urged me on.

"Ride me, baby," he growled, his voice filled with hunger. "Show me how much you want it."

With a desperate cry, I began to move against him, my hips rocking back and forth as I sought out the delicious friction he offered. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over me, building with every stroke until I was teetering on the edge of ecstasy once more.

He watched me with hungry eyes, his hands gripping my hips as he guided me in my movements. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "You're doing so well."

Encouraged by his praise, I moved faster, my body craving more of the pleasure he was giving me. With each thrust, I felt myself drawing closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

And then, with a cry of pure ecstasy, I felt it happen. My body convulsed with uncontrollable spasms as waves of pleasure crashed over me, and I screamed his name as I tumbled over the edge into oblivion.

He held me close as I trembled with the force of my release, his arms wrapped around me protectively. And as I lay there, spent and sated in his arms, I knew that I had never experienced anything like this before.

He kissed my forehead softly, his lips tender against my skin as he whispered, "You're amazing, baby. Absolutely amazing."

I looked up at him, my body still tingling from the incredible pleasure he had just given me. "Matt, can you make me feel that feeling again? Can you teach me more " I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

His eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at me, his fingers trailing lightly along my neck. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice husky with need. "The things I want to do to you, the things I'm gonna do to you...".

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle smut #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #fluff imagines #inexperienced #inexperiencedreader

1K notes · View notes

oneeyedlove · 6 months ago

Text

King of the ashes.

summary | Moons had passed since your last quarrel with your estranged husband, the events of Rook’s Rest bringing you together one more time.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x oc!reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x oc!reader (platonic).

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! Unprotected sex, PinV, arguing, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of death, Targ!cest, ANGST/little comfort, ooc Aemond (probably). SPOILERS

wordcount | 8.5K - i am so sorry

note | All the valyrian i use comes from a very shady translator so there probably are a lot of mistakes, if you have any input or helpful information pls tell me. I got really excited writing this but I feel the last part is a bit rushed, sorry about that! Any comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Find part 1 here

[ gif by @gameofthronesdaily ]

124 AC

The afternoon sun spilled its light upon the tearful eyes of prince Aemond Targaryen, almost if mocking his heartache through its refulgent heat. The young boy sheltered himself in a seemingly abandoned corridor of the Red Keep, seeking solace from the cruel hoax imposed on him during his lessons. He could still hear them, their words — “The Pink Dread”. Such title roared in his ears, humiliation engulfing the silver prince as he forced his cries back into his throat. His mother had failed in her feeble attempts to comfort him, her attention focused solely on punishing his nephews for their so called savagery — even if it was clear this had Aegon’s name written all over it.

The worst part was that she had witnessed it. She hadn’t laughed or joined them in their persecution, but he could not bear the thought of his weakness being exposed before her. Hers was the judgment he feared most after all, she was the only one he could truly call friend.

Aemond hadn’t taken notice of a blue covered figure that watched him until she sat at his side, her weight shifting the cushions of the settee beneath them. His eyes refused to meet hers, hoping to conceal his shame as he hugged his knees against his chest. The girl stared at him in silence, her back resting on the wall whilst her feet dangled over the edge of her seat.

“Aem…” Aelora finally spoke, the softness in her tone melodic as a ballad.

“What do you want?” He asked, his voice lacking its usual warmth.

She had been made aware of Aemond’s displeasure concerning the dearth of a dragon to call his own through countless protests, his state being one of constant anger towards what he deemed his fault. It was also known by her that he would grow to be the most estimable dragonrider of them all, for none were devoted to learning and practicing as he was — it was only a matter of patience. Thus, when Aelora’s eyes caught sight of the swine inside the dragonpit, her brothers knew their mother’s chastening would be nothing compared to hers.

“My brothers are fools, I wish to apologize on their behalf.” She brought her hand to hold his, a gesture of innocent assurance.

“You did not deserve it.”

The boy slowly drifted his eyes from the window to lay his gaze upon her, his heartbeat quavering at her touch. Nevertheless, her kind words couldn’t erase his shortcomings — he couldn’t accept charity for his ridicule, he wouldn’t.

“I… I have no need for your pity.” As much as he tried, he failed to stop woe from consuming his voice, as well as his demeanor.

“I don’t pity you.” Grasping his hand tighter, she looked at him through furrowed brows.

“You shall have a dragon. One even bigger than Sunfyre, I know it! In the meantime you can help me with Lyrrax, even fly with me once she’s big enough!”

It was evident her enthusiasm was a childish one, an effort to install hope over the sorrow that buried his thoughts — but she had no care for it. She noticed as a smile pulled at the corners of his lips, even as he tried to suppress it. She wasn’t the one who owed him an apology, and yet there she was, offering her own dragon for an olive branch. His gaze flickered down at their hands, her smaller one over his, and he intertwined their fingers. The tension in his shoulders visibly eased, for Aelora’s presence was reassuring and tender.

“You truly believe I'll claim one?” He asked, unable to hide the fleeting shadow of optimism that burned in his eyes.

“I am certain of it. We are Targaryens, the blood of the dragon. You just haven’t found the right one for you.” A smile crept its way onto her face, her cheeks rosy and plump with eagerness.

Aemond scanned the girl before him, his expression almost vulnerable. The feeling of indignity was one familiar to the young boy and he had enough of it. He contemplated her words for a moment, and for once allowed himself to consider she might be right.

“Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I lack patience.” He let out a deep breath, as if letting go of the bitterness that had taken hold of him.

“You would do well to remember I’m always right.” The smug grin on her face earned herself only a rolling of eyes in response.

“Come on. I know something that will lift your spirits.”

Her words had barely escaped her lips before she burst through the corridor, tugging the prince’s hand as they ran. Hurried footsteps clashed against cold stone as Aelora strided through the maze of indistinguishable aisles, her gaze occasionally flickering towards the boy behind her. The smile that stubbornly weld itself onto Aemond’s face had transformed into a beaming grin, the sound of her angelic giggles clipping away the sullenness from his features.

A deafening thump alerted the prince of their whereabouts, the wide entry of her bedchamber welcoming him inside. He stepped in and curiously observed as she struggled to close the wooden doors, trapping the pair of them in concealment. The calling gesture of the princess hand woke him from his trance as he marched towards the illustrated wall beside her bed.

“Wait, what are you doing?” His head tilted in confusion whilst he fixated his lilac eyes on her hands. Her palm grazed the intricate designs on the stone, finally encountering the familiar crease on the surface — she pushed it, a dimly lit passageway staring back at him.

“Its Maegor’s secret tunnels!”

Aemond's bewilderment had quickly given way to wonder and awe. The maesters had taught him legends of Maegor's construction schemes, rumored to be an intricate labyrinth hidden beneath the Red Keep, but he never dreamed he would get to see them for himself.

“What?! How in the Seven Hells did you find them?”He asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“A fortunate accident.” She shrugged.

“I was hoping to find the way to your apartments and surprise you but I reckon it cannot be done anymore.”

“You’re mad!” His gaze quickly flickered back to Aelora.

His eyes, violet in the soft daylight that cascaded through the nearby window, studied her almost warily, as if to gauge a reaction from her. He received no such thing. The princess brought her hand to his once again, carefully establishing themselves inside the narrow corridor as the heavy stone shut behind the two. Aemond allowed himself to be pulled along, not even protesting in favour of the tunnel. He observed the strange architecture through their route, the dim light that filtered through small gaps, and the strange cobwebs that had taken form. The limb that remained in hers seemed to squeeze it almost possessively — out of fear, or out of eagerness, Aelora could likely tell.

The hairs atop the young royals’ heads twirled at the light breeze that embraced them, the scent of saltwater filling their nostrils. A moss covered archway revealed a small, damp cavern. As they entered, rugged walls formed by weathered rock surrounded them and an opening that lead directly onto the beach offered a panoramic view of the shoreline and the rolling waves beyond. Beams of sunlight streamed in through gaps, illuminating the cave's interior with a soft, ambient glow. Their feet grazed the sandy floor underneath them, scattered with small shells and pebbles, remnants of the sea's presence. Inside the serene and veiled space, a true connection between land and ocean can be felt — a fitting discovery for a princess of House Velaryon.

Aelora’s brown orbs searched for the boy’s lilac ones, a wide grin spread on her face as she squeezed his hand tenderly.

“So… What do you make of it?”

Aemond was quietly impressed, his head tilting back to look up at the ceiling of the cave, eyes roaming across the stalactites that hanged over them, a small gasp escaping his pink lips. He slowly peeled his hand from the princess, walking over to the opening to look out at the sea.

“How — how did you find this place?” The young prince questioned softly, his head turning back to look at her with an almost admiring gaze.

“It is unimportant. We can confine ourselves here whenever we like! The others do not know about it — I’m halfway certain no one does.”

A small, pleased smile tugged on his features just at the thought of using the cave as a hideaway; a private place, just for himself and Aelora. He hums quietly under his breath, in slight agreement.

“Our secret?” He extend his pinky towards her, indicating for her to do the same.

“Ours.” She smiled as she locked their fingers together in a silent promise.

A silent minute exchanged itself between the pair, the linger of a childish oath tickling their skin. The future memory would cling to their hearts for years to come, a longing fondness drowning them each and every time — except they had no knowledge of it as of the moment, being too focused on the possible amusement that would certainly come from the cavern’s discovery.

“I can best you to the shore!” Aemond wasted no time as he sprinted to approach the broken waves at the end of the beach.

“Wait!” She shouted, avidly picking up her pace to match the boy’s, his long limbs giving him a considerable advantage over the girl behind him.

It had been an entire afternoon of nothing but running, chasing, and exploring together. The young prince had forgotten his troubles and worries completely, instead focusing on the thrill of catching a slippery, wiggling sand crab. The cold feeling of the seawater against his skin didn’t bother him either, nor did the wind whipping at his silver hair as they sat building sandcastles. By the time dusk began to settle, the two children had become completely filthy with sand, mud, and water. Their garments were most likely ruined from the seaweed’s smell, fact that would assuredly earn them serious reprimands from their mothers. Yet, he could not remember a time when he felt so alive.

As they returned to the cave, the sunset’s glow reflected in the wet stones inside, a sense of comfort enveloping the rock-strewn cavity. Aelora’s gaze fell upon the young prince before her, his valyrian grace never yielding to his disheveled appearance. She observed as he bent down, a sharp ore emerging in his hand.

“What are you doing?” She questioned through a mess of rumpled braids.

Aemond glanced up to look at her, smiling softly. With careful movements, the boy carved into the rock, his free hand resting against the stone wall for balance. After a moment, the four letters of their initials were carved into the stone. The scribbles “A.T.” and “A.V.” were jagged and a bit uneven, but still clearly visible.

”Leaving a marking… to remember.”

---

129 AC

Bleeding. Bruised. Brokenhearted. Those were the exact words to describe the state in which princess Aelora Velaryon arrived at Dragonstone. The crimson liquid that gushed out of her right side was courtesy of a Kingsguard during his desperate attempts to put a stop to her fleeing — the remnants of his white cloak hanging from Lyrrax’s teeth were evidence of the retribution he earned. The loyal she-dragon landed crudely, sharp claws sinking in the placid sand as her screeches blended with her rider’s whimpers. The princess could sense the pain inside the beast’s mind, their unbreakable connection making their emotions into one.

Pellets of rain grazed her face as she crawled up the endless stairs towards the peak of the islet, the translucent droplets mixing with tears of her own. The young woman’s sobs were filled with tales of disloyalty. She had betrayed her family, her duty, and worst of all, she had been betrayed by him. The one who stood before the gods of Old Vayria and pledged his unyielding love for her. The one who she had deemed worthy of the deserting of her kin. The one who promised her a future beyond the carnage of war. And yet he was the first to commence bloodshed. Her devotion had not been enough to subdue Aemond’s thirst for revenge — but how she wished that it had.

The mud on the soles of her shoes stuck to the stone floor, leaving behind a trail of shame as she entered the intimidating fortress. Her name and titles thundered inside her ears as the voice of a guard announced her arrival, though she hadn’t actually heard him. Her tormented psyche fevered with dread, fearful of the reactions she would receive due the forsaking of her own blood. All the eyes of her mother’s Small Counsel widened at the sight of the princess, distress and grief scattered across their faces. Her gaze flickered to the silvery locks on Raenyra’s head, the woman’s back turned to the room.

Aelora’s steps were slow and somber, as if her soul had faded and the lifeless carcass of who she was moved against her wishes. She skipped past Daemon at her mother’s side, lacking the nerve to meet his stare. Finally, she reached the bereaved woman before her, brown meeting lilac in a lachrymose gaze. Their pale hands intertwined in haste, and the once composed tears transformed into loud sobs as the young princess collapsed to her knees, begging for Rhaenyra’s forgiveness. Blood and teardrops met in the Black Queen’s dress, staining it as she knelt in front of her daughter. She brought up her palm to caress the side of the young woman’s face, the maternal touch conveying a juvenile yearning in Aelora’s heart.

“Oh my sweet girl.” Her mother whispered as anguish imbued her words.

---

The moons that followed Luke’s death were arduous for the princess, constantly having to prove herself before the family that once accepted her. Rhaena and Rhaenyra had silently recognized Aelora’s circumstances, acknowledging she grieved for a husband as well as a brother. Baela had hesitated in the endorsing of her cousin but surrendered to her pleads nonetheless. Daemon barely addressed his wife’s daughter, his hatred for his nephew fused inside the resentful stares he gave her. Despite her best efforts to cope with her standing, it was Jacaerys’ unyielding disregard for his sister that slayed the woman’s hope of mending their bond. The storm behind the prince’s eyes was well hidden inside his stoic expressions, seemingly unaffected by Aelora’s prayers for his recognition. It was only in the afternoon before their grandmother’s departure for Rook’s Rest that the siblings found each other.

The soft rustle of parchment echoed through the otherwise silent library, a salty breeze infiltrating itself through the window. The princess sat by the unlit fireplace as her gaze swept across the leather-bound books scattered inside the numerous shelves, each and all replete with the history of House Targaryen. The smell of dusty, old tomes was a bitter comfort in the midst of her morose silence. She had accustomed herself to this moments of solitude, seeking solace inside her soul. At heart, her deepest fantasies scampered free, picturing a simpler life as a commoner — untethered by the Targaryen name and relieved from the torment of the constant shadow of war.

Aelora was chased back into reality as Jacaerys’ presence made itself known. The young man invaded the room like a blizzard, his cold glare locking upon her figure as she rested over the armrest of the settee. Her eyes glistened with heartache once she felt how profoundly hostile her brother had become, turning on his heel to abandon her presence. The woman’s voice trembled as she spoke, her words pleading and vulnerable.

"Jacaerys, wait...please."

He halted, his shoulders tense as he looked back at her. The expression on his face was hard to read, a mixture of ire and pain etched into his features.

"What do you want, Aelora?" His voice was cold, the distance between them palpable.

"Have I stooped so low in your graces that my presence offends you? We are family, Jacaerys. Can we not even speak?" Her voice was laced with a hint of desperation as she asked.

"You ask for words as if they could undo what has already been done." His expression hardened, his jaw tightening at her words.

Aelora got to her feet, her legs trembling under her weight. He spoke as if it had been her to murder Luke, not Aemond. Her eyes met his as she stood, her voice wavering with a mix of sorrow and anger.

“Do you truly believe I have not been made aware of that?!”

“Every day of my miserable existence is plagued by guilt. I close my eyes at night yet sleep eludes me, for the ghost of Luke haunts my every thought!” She grew restless at every word, tears forming in her brown orbs as she gestured frantically through phrases.

“I know I failed him, as I failed you and our family… But don't forget I too lost a brother that day.”

Jacaerys stood frozen in place, his grief still bubbling within him and yet his heart ached at the sight of his sister's tears. Her words cut through him like a dagger, his own teardrops threatening to fall.

"Luke is gone, Aelora, and your presence here only serves as a reminder of that fact." He took a step backwards, his jaw clenching as he struggled to control his emotions.

“You cannot blame me for what was not my doing. I was Aemond’s wife, not his conscience — albeit my best efforts.”

"But you married our enemies, sister! Do you truly believe your actions have no consequences?"

"You stood by while they plotted against us and our family. How can I not blame you, when you chose to bind your fate to theirs?" A hint of anger flashed in Jacaerys' mournful eyes as he continued.

“i admit i have made my bed and I must lie in it, but you speak of matters you do not understand.” She crossed her arms over her chest, as if she could shield herself from his hatred.

“He swore to me…“ Her voice cracked, heartbreak swallowing her words.

“He swore to avoid this — to stop this insane feud. He is an oathbreaker as well as a kinslayer and he made me a fool!”

The room was still tense but as Aelora's sobbing grew heavier, something shifted within Jacaerys. He stepped closer to his sister, and without a word, pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. His body was warm against her chilly frame as he held her close, almost protectively. Their grievances seemed to dissolve in that moment, replaced only by a shared sorrow as her tears dampened his shoulder.

“Do you hold love for him, still?” He whispered.

“Only for the memory of who he used to be.”

The prince held Aelora a little tighter at her admission, his chin resting on the top of her head as they remained locked in their embrace. He could feel the weight of her broken heart and the ache it left her with. His wrath had dimmed, replaced by a sense of care and familial loyalty.

"Memories are not enough… Promise to break him should you get the chance"

“I will.”

Neither of them knew, but she lied.

Rhaenys, The Queen Who Never Was, met her fate by the hands of the newly appointed Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen.

Meleys, The Red Queen, had her head paraded through the streets of King’s Landing.

And Aelora, Aemond’s beloved nightmare, sent him a raven.

“We must speak. Find me at ghost’s hour where salt meets memory.

A.V.”

---

The stars twinkled outside the formidable walls of Dragonstone, nightfall enveloping the island in its deep shadows. The approach of ghost’s hour disrupted the princess’ heartbeat inside her chest, her previous conviction giving way to fright as she slithered into the network of caves where the dragons nested. Aelora called out to Lyrrax, her voice wavering with a mixture of stress and uncertainty. As the great beast appeared before her, its wings unfurling, she couldn't help but wonder why she had sent the meeting request at all.

The dragon’s own tension could be felt through her scales as the princess climbed onto its back, the weight of her decision settling on them like a heavy cloak. As they soared through the night sky, Aelora's thoughts were consumed by memories of Aemond and his treachery. The image of him flying over her grandmother’s corpse haunted her mind — the cold, merciless expression he conveyed twisting her guts. She questioned her own judgement in seeking him out, even as her heart yearned for the man who once pledged his undying love and protection. She looked back at Dragonstone, its familiar walls and towers illuminated by the silvery moonlight; she was abandoning her blood for him once again. The princess could only surmise she was either possessed by madness or a true lovelorn fool.

The frigid roar of wind traveled across her face as Lyrrax’s wings scraped over the tide’s surface, saltwater droplets cutting into her skin as well as her pride. She knew her grandmother would never forgive her for this, it was likely none would; she was an idiotic excuse for a Targaryen if she thought seeking the slayer of so many of her kin was justifiable. The burden of loss hung heavily on Aelora's soul as she took in the landscape before her. The faces of Rhaenys and Luke, forever etched in her mind, fueled a mix of anger and trepidation inside the young woman. Her thoughts swirled with a maelstrom of emotions as she soared towards him, recollections of the past playing out like a tragic play as her brown orbs focused upon the once affectionate site of King’s landing.

With practiced grace, Aelora guided the dragon into a smooth descent, its blue wings beating against the air as its claws set down on the shore of Blackwater Bay. The sound of their landing was muffled by the night, its velvety darkness swallowing the pair by the quiet that enveloped the world like a thick, black blanket. The crash of the waves greeted the princess’ ears as she dismounted, struggling to catch her breath and steady her emotions. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the young woman caught sight of the familiar cave that laid ahead, its entrance like a dark maw in the cliffside. The jagged edges were illuminated by the silvery glow of the moon, sending shadows dancing across the rocky surface.

Bittersweetness engulfed Aelora’s frame as the memories memories of her secret rendezvouses with Aemond brimmed in her mind. Every step she took towards the cave was like a blow to her legs, feeling shaky and unsteady. Doubt gnawed at her spirit as if a persistent rat, her stomach flipping with every crunch of the sand beneath her feet. Yet, she pushed forward, determination fueling the princess even as her disheveled heartbeat hammered against her ribcage.

The sight of Aemond standing amongst the shadows caught Aelora off guard, the dim light emanating through the cave's entrance barely illuminating his form — she had thought to be the first to arrive. Before she could stop it, a slight gasp escaped her lips and her eyes widened in disbelief. He looked different, somehow. He seemed further villainous and wearied, the once familiar spark in his eye now replaced by a bold robustness. His sharp and handsome features were now harder, almost rugged, as if her absence had left its mark on him. Swallowing hard, she acknowledged the stark contrast between the nostalgic sentiment that nearly overcame her a moment ago and the tense silence that now enveloped them. They stood opposite each other mutely, both frozen and locked in each other’s gaze.

“Wife.” He greeted, his voice grazing her earlobes like the finest of silks.

“That title does not fit me any longer.” She replied coldly.

His lilac eye examined Aelora’s frame from head to toe, her cloak hiding black leather garments — most likely dragonriding attire. She looked skinnier than he recalled, the shadows only enhancing the redness of her eyes. Aemond could not help but wonder whether she had been weeping during her journey there, grief tackling her psyche as well as her build. The princess demeanor turned stiff, arms crossing as she stood clearly on edge.

“You remain mine, before gods and men.” His gaze flickered with something akin to resentment.

“Kinslaying is a rather suitable ground for an annulment, i should think.” She said, removing the cloak from her head, allowing her braid to cascade over her shoulder.

He froze, the muscles on his neck and jaw tensed. His first reaction is one of anger, clenching his fist as he prepared hateful words inside his throat. But as he looked her in the eye, his wrath melted away into something much more dangerous and devastating — something fragile. All he could see was the girl he grew up with, the girl who stood by him at his boyhood. The woman who whispered sweet nothings amongst the vows of their wedding. The woman who played silly songs on the harp and sang with the loveliest voice he'd ever heard. The wife who's hands he dreamed of at night.

“So eager to rid yourself of the shame affixed to my reputation… And yet, you request my presence with equal vigor.” He stood with his hands behind his back, swallowing any desires that threatened to get the better of him.

“It is my understanding you have become Prince Regent.” She tried to ignore his jabs, the truthfulness they held hitting a sore point inside Aelora.

“The betrayal of your brother becomes you. Yet another broken oath in your conquest for the throne.” She returned his insults, the knowledge of his ambition stirring something within the prince.

“You speak of broken oaths. And what ought I call the oaths you have broken? The promises we made when we married in front of Heleana and the Gods?” His one eye darkened, taking a step forward as he kept his tone controlled.

“Your hypocrisy is staggering.” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he spoke.

“My hypocrisy?!” She could feel the anger boiling her blood, as if fire consuming wood.

“Your sanctimonious preaches fail to erase your true nature, Aemond. Naming yourself Targaryen whilst the sigil of our house is paraded through the streets as if some vainglorious prize of war!” Her voice turned to screeches as it echoed through the stone walls of the cave.

“You may call me a bastard if you wish to, but my blood honors Old Valyria far more than yours.”

Aemond’s hand shot to her wrist, gripping it tight enough to leave marks on the skin underneath. His single eye was wild and livid, the scar around it turning his gaze even more menacing. He moved a step closer, the scent of him overwhelming her — mint and leather mixed with a hint of smoke, the familiar essence blurred her senses in a wave of longing. The princess hid her weakening behind a wrath curtain, the disdain she held for the twisted version of him that now stood before her casting their love aside.

“Watch your tongue, Aelora.”

“Or else? Will your murder me as you did my brother? My grandmother? I can see the conqueror’s dagger in it’s seath, evidence of yet another attempt at fratricide!” She accused him further.

“Have you not done enough? Must you ravage our family and yourself in your thirst for power?”

The hand that gripped her wrist traveled up to the back of her head, grabbing the braided hair. Yanking it softly, he pulled Aelora even closer, his lilac orb flickering over her expression.

“I am Prince Regent as the Gods intended.” He hissed into her ear, a dangerous edge to his voice.

“My reign, unlike that of Aegon, will be glorious — my rule absolute. And you, wife, will be by my side when I sit on the Iron Throne.”

Aelora’s eyes betrayed her as water began to brim in their edges, a horrified gleam passing through her forming tears. A hand cupped his left cheek as she scanned him, a desperate search for the man he once was. The man she longed for each night. The man who was the source of greater heartache than she had ever felt in her life. The man who was also the root of her most joyous moments.

“Your ambition shall be your demise, husband. I was yours before all of this, before your perverseness overcame your affection for me.”

“The crown may sit upon your brow, but i have sufficiently torn my heart to shreads in my attempts to remove you — even if you are my weakness, I will never belong by your side once more.”

”No wrath or cruelty is capable of subduing my craving of you, issa vēzos (my sun).” He leaned into her touch, letting his eye flutter at the feeling of the soft skin of her palm against his cold cheek.

In that moment of contact, he seemed so vulnerable, and much younger than his years. He was weak. A pathetic, love-sick man, and he could not bring himself to care. Aemond leaned his head against hers, their foreheads connecting as his gaze softened.

“I am plagued by thoughts of you and I, each reminiscence a torment to my soul.”

“Come back to me, be my Queen and rule by my side. Our love will be known forever through the Seven Kingdoms, your belly swollen with our child ensuring our line shall never be forgotten.”

There was a moment of silence as Aelora absorbed his words. He was offering her a chance at a life she had dreamed of, one full of passion and legacy as their offspring lived on after them. But it would be an existence consumed by greed, she knew it. There could be no going back after what he had done; Lucerys would never be uncle to her progeny and Rhaenys wouldn’t be there to counsel her through hardships. Their family was torn from the beginning, the tapestry of their lives further lacerated by his actions. And she couldn’t betray her blood again.

“I would do anything for you.” He begged.

“Would your bend the knee to my mother?” Her voice was shaky as the lachrymose gaze she held shattered, its translucent shards falling through her cheeks.

"I will give you anything. Anything within my power to give." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"But not my crown."

“Then there shall be naught left to ask, issa hūra (my moon).” She sent him a smile, albeit a woeful one.

Aemond opened his mouth to protest, but knew it would be in vain. He was so close to her that he could feel her breath on his lips, the feeling slowly driving him mad. He had imagined Aelora’s face, her curves and her voice each night he had been forced to spend alone — and here she was, right before him, but he couldn’t have her. The thought of how this could be the last time he held her without being shoved away made him pull her to him, his arms wrapping around her like vines.

The princess found herself unable to resist as she pressed her head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting presence in the silent cavern. She clung to him tightly, her fingers gripping his clothing like a lifeline in a storm-tossed sea. For a moment, they stood there, holding each other without a word. The moons of distance melted away, replaced by a shared sense of desperate longing to be close again. Despite the comfort and familiarity of his embrace, she knew deep down that he would never surrender — his path set on the course of war and the bloodshed it entailed. The pain and loss they had faced would forever stand between them, but it did not matter tonight. Concealed by shadows inside the stone walls surrounding them, their grievances and broken oaths would dim at the radiance of their burning passion. For a brief moment, the pair would be one once more.

Aelora’s head parted from the warmth of his frame as her gaze followed the line of Aemond's jaw, her brown orbs traveling upward until they reached his mouth. A sharp breath hitched within her throat as she remembered the soft touch of his lips against hers, butterflies rattling in her stomach. In that moment, she was transported back to the blissful months of their marriage, when their intimacies were full of love and promise. The need to feel the familiar touch of his skin against hers consuming every inch of her being.

The prince’s mind and body were on fire. He could feel her gaze raking over him, like a caress to his spirit. The mere sight of his estranged wife in his arms making his heart pound wildly in his chest. His good eye watched her mouth as she swallowed, his one trackmindedness fixated on everything about her. He could see the memories, the same ones he saw every night, flashing through her gaze. His fingers reached up to brush a strand of her brown hair aside, her once perfect braid now half done as the long locks threaten to escape. His hand trembled with how badly he wanted to feel her body, to trace his hands over her curves and kiss her neck, as he had done countless times before.

Aelora's restraint snapped with a sharp tug as she pulled him down towards her, their lips finally meeting in a desperate, ardent kiss. A muffled gasp left her lips at the familiar touch, her body responding instinctively as she pressed herself against him, hungrily devouring his taste. The prince’s sense of control collapsed like a house of cards, his tongue slipping into her mouth as he held her close. He was a man starved, his palms roaming over her frame, as if trying to commit every curve to memory.

Aemond's hands began to roam under her cloak, his fingers tracing over the round hips hidden underneath. He could feel the heat of her desire through the thick fabric, his own body aching to devour her whole. The fingers on his left hand fiddled over the clasp of her mantle, yearning overcoming his senses as he tossed the fabric onto the delicate sand.

Before he was able to protest, Aelora broke their kiss. Her eyes glistened with arousal as she watched his lips, reddened and bruised from the hastiness of their embrace. Her nimble hands found the buckle of her leather doublet, shivering as the absence of the rougher material revealed her chemise underneath. The sheer linen did little to protect the princess’ frame from the cold breeze that made its way through the cave’s entrance, her nipples stiffening at the feeling. The young woman felt no grief for her modesty as Aemond’s eye watched her carefully, a glimpse of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. She continued to undress, slender fingers slowly untying the laces on her breeches. Her boots met the rest of her dragonriding garments on the jagged rocks by the cavern’s wall, leaving the princess in only her smallclothes.

The silver prince was left breathless by her actions, completely entranced by the sight of her exposed chest, every contour of her body on display through the translucent fabric. His eye drank in the sight and he could feel his blood rushing to a southernmost point. He wanted to worship her, to kiss and nibble her skin — to make her cry out his name until the only thing she could remember was the feel of him against herself. At this moment, he was no longer Aemond Targaryen, Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm; he was a dog at her heel, eager for her calling. His gaze never left hers, staring at her vulnerable state as he mirrored her actions. First he removed his baldric, steel clinking as his dagger and sword fell to the ground. Then, he slowly undid the various buckles on his black jerkin, his breeches following suit. He did not waver as her brown eyes found his stiffened manhood; for he hadn’t cared to remain in concealment as she did.

Aelora’s gaze followed her husband as he approached her again, his hands reaching out and his fingers gently sliding up her bare thigh. She felt him press further into her, his cock pushing itself snugly against her core. He leaned in until his mouth was just beside her ear, his breath warm against her neck as he bit the skin softly. There was no denying she was his, her soul forever branded by his sinful devotion; the princess would never trust a kinslayer twice over, but she couldn’t help but love him.

“Vestragon ao’re ñuhon. (Say you’re mine.)” His voice was barely a whisper but it was as much a command as a plead.

“Vestragon ao’re nykeēdrosa ñuhon, gīda sepār syt kiza bantis. (Say you’re still mine, even just for tonight)”.

“Nyke aōhon. Ēva tubis ōños. (I am yours. Until daylight)”. She answered, lips trembling as the words escaped her.

A primal possessiveness engulfed the one eyed prince, the part that had always longed for her roaring in victory. At that very moment, he felt that there was nothing in this world that he would not do for her. He took her mouth in another kiss, their tongues clashing in a more feral and desperate manner. Aemond lifted her, his calloused hands digging into her plump arse as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her fingers gripped at his silver locks, his sudden responde sending waves of languor across her limbs. He moved her onto the cloak that was on the ground, the velvety sand welcoming her weight over the fabric as he covered her body with his.

Aemond continued his path of kisses down her body, his hands wandering over her breasts and waist and his mouth leaving more marks in its path. He could feel Aelora shudder in anticipation, her hips arching against his as he moved closer to her core, the air heavy with the scent of her nectar. He halted, taking in the sight of her before him. It had been so long — too long — since he had laid eyes upon her like this, and he relished in the way she already looked completely wrecked by his touch alone. The prince finally reached his ultimate goal, his lips finding her mound as he licked a stripe across the sensitive flesh. He let out a low moan at the taste of her sweet ambrosia on his tongue, a loud whimper emanating from her lungs in response.

The young woman’s hair laid carelessly on the ground, grains of sand intertwining into the brown mess as she arched her back in pleasure. She cried out as he grabbed her thighs, spreading her further apart and burying his face between her legs, his tongue exploring her in ways she had missed for many moons. He could not get enough of her, his lips and tongue trailing silent prayers over her most sensitive spot as his name left her lips. She felt her walls clench as he barged inside her cunt with a long finger, adjusting to the once familiar feeling. Shivers ran down her spine in satisfaction as Aemond synchronized his movements, the overwhelming pleasure bringing stars to her eyes.

A lilac eye never left her face, watching every expression that played across her features. Her mouth parted in pleasure, each gasp and moan fueling the fire of the prince’s own arousal. He had longed to see her like this, writhing underneath him, his name on her lips and his touch on her skin. The memories of her had haunted him in his nights alone, but now, in this moment, he was finally able to worship her like the god given treasure that she was.

Aelora's cries grew more intense, her hips bucking against Aemond's skilled mouth as pleasure mounted within her. Her thighs trembled slightly, its muscles tensing in anticipation of the release that was quickly approaching. Each touch and movement only served to bring her closer to the precipice of pleasure.

A loud cry echoed through the cavern as she climaxed, her body shuddering and her fingers digging into the ground in a desperate attempt to anchor herself. As the waves of ecstasy washed over her, she felt as though she had been transported to another realm. The connection between them was somehow stronger than it had ever been before, their souls dancing to a passionate melody.

When Aelora finally gasped for air, the prince slowly moved up from her core, his body hovering over hers. He watched as she recovered from the rapture he had given her with a dark and vainglorious smirk. With his elbow holding himself over her, he pulled her leg to rest on his hip as his eye scanned her features. Her hand moved to cup his cheek, the tip of her finger caressing his reddened scar as she furrowed her brows.

“Nyke gaomagon regret ziry. Skoros nyke vestretan se mōrī jēda. (I do regret it. What I said the last time.)” She apologized, regret brimming in her brown orbs.

Aemond leaned into her touch, his good eye closing at the gentle touch of her hand against his skin, it felt nearly as soothing as a balm to his weary heart. The mention of the title she had bestowed upon him sent a chill through his spine, his monstrous behavior had earned the words even if they had maimed him. His face turned to press a soft kiss into her palm, before opening his eye to look at her again.

“It is of no importance.” His voice was rough and low as he spoke.

Aelora softly tugged at the straps of his eyepatch, earning a trembling exhale from him in response. The touch of her delicate fingers on his malady sent a wave of fear through his spirit. She removed piece of leather, revealing the puckered, scarred skin where his eye had once been. He found himself unable to look at her for a moment, the feeling of vulnerability consuming him in the dim light of the cave. The princess looked deeply into the sapphire gem in his socket, tenderness engulfing the kiss she placed upon it.

Aemond's touch was gentle as he took her lips in his, not waiting for her response as he gripped her hip and turned her on her stomach. His eye roamed over the expanse of her back, tracing his fingers over the smooth surface of her skin, leaving a trail of gentle caresses in its path. It was a stark contrast to the frenzied way he had touched her previously, this touch was far more tender, almost reverent in nature. His body pressed against hers as the length of his manhood rested on the small of her back, buring into her skin. He leaned down, his mouth finding her ear as he moved closer.

“Azantys ñuha sindigho, issa vēzos. (I have missed you desperately, my sun)”. His breath was warm against her skin as he whispered.

Aelora arched her back as she felt the tip of his cock breeching her dampened slit, her knees propping her hip upwards in search of contact. His arm reached under her, squeezing one of her peaks as he fully entered her. The pair let out breathless moans as Aemond moved against her, leaving no time for her adjustment. The sting of pain she felt had been nothing compared to the ecstasy of his length inside her, finding herself unable to focus on anything but the feeling of being around him.

The prince’s thrusts grew harder, his body moving against hers in a rhythm that was both frenzied and yet somehow controlled. Her moans and sighs filled the air, his own breaths coming quick and sharply as he took her with a wild abandon. He buried his face in her neck, biting down on the soft flesh as his hands buried into her hips.

“Avy jorrāelan. (I love you)” Aelora murmured between ragged moans, her hand reaching to grasp his hair.

His eye widened slightly at her words, a thrill rushing through him at having heard them coming from her lips once again. His lips found the base of her jawline, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin. His cock kept reaching further into her cunt as their flesh moved together with a rhythmic thrust, like the rise and fall of waves on the shore.

“Avy jorrāelan. Avy jorrāelan. Avy jorrāelan.” Aemond mumbled repeatedly in between thrusts, his words a fierce declaration of their love. He continued moving inside her, his heart racing in his ribcage as his pleasure overcame physical bounds.

Every thing about this moment was singled out from any other they had shared. The grief, pain and betrayal that coursed through their marriage dissipated amongst the dragon fire that burned within the pair. It all faded away, and all that was left was this, the feel of her skin against his, the sound of his muffled whimpers in her ear, the desperate way he repeated her name over and over. This moment felt like the calm in the middle of a storm, a rustle of the ashes of their love.

Aemond could feel his peak building, his movements becoming more urgent and frantic as he chased the pleasure he sought. His breaths came out in ragged pants, mingling with the sounds of her gasps in the air as his length clashed inside her. Aelora sensed the twitching of his manhood, threatening to spill his release inside her walls. The mere thought tightened the knot that had formed in her belly, reaching the edge of her desire.

Aemond sent a few more thrusts into the brown haired woman underneath him before both found their release simultaneously, their movements slowing as they both rode out of the ecstatic trance that washed over them. The prince’s face was buried in Aelora’s neck, a guttural moan escaping him at the force of his own pleasure. Her body shivered at the feeling of his seed drowning her cunt, pearly tears streaming down her leg as she whimpered.

The lovers stayed silent in an adoring embrace after he disconnected their bodies, a wave of comfort washing over them. For a while they simply laid there, basking in the afterglow of their passion, their frames entwined in a tangle of limbs. It was a strange sort of peace, one that they both knew wouldn't last once the sun rose — but for the moment, they were content. The night stretched on, each hour passing in a blur of whispered words and slow hands. Aemond and Aelora clang to one another, as if they could melt into one if they only held tightly enough. The threat of daylight and the inevitable parting loomed over them like a dark cloud on the horizon, anguish settling inside their hearts.

As the hour of the nightingale approached over their secret sanctuary, the prince and princess began to break away from the blissful haven that enveloped them. There were no words to be spoken as they both dressed silently, the sound of rustling fabric and soft breaths filling the air between them. The weight of war and the knowledge that this moment was fleeting hung heavily in the air. Aemond felt a pang in his chest as he looked towards her, a mute wish in his heart that they could stay like this. To be locked in this moment forever, away from the world that demanded so much from them. But he knew that was not possible. Soon, they would have to return to their duties and obligations — this feeling would become nothing more than a memory.

As they stood before each other fully clothed, their eyes met in a bereaved gaze — sorrow for the love they shared engulfing them. Aelora stepped closer to him, holding his hand softly, almost in a cowardly manner. She had no words for the man who was her everything, the man who had her in every way possible, and she was ashamed of it. His free hand moved hesitantly to hold her cheek, his eye flickering over her face, taking in every feature. He wanted to burn the image of her into his mind, to remember every detail about her, down to the smallest freckle on her nose. His thumb traced her soft skin as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, as if to say “I will be with you forever”. Tears began to form at the corners of her brown orbs as she abandoned his touch. The sound of the rustling sand underneath her feet echoed through the cave as she reached its entrance, her form never escaping his stare.

She halted at the stone archway, her silhouette framed by the soft silver light of the moon. The night air was cool on her skin as she turned to look back at Aemond, the feel of their passion still lingering in the air. For a moment, they simply stood there, eyes meeting in the darkness. She ached to say something, to find the words to convey the maelstrom of emotions that raged within her. In the end, she simply smiled, bittersweet and knowing.

“Should we meet on the battlefield, I can’t hesitate.” Her voice came out a whisper.

“I won’t hesitate to kill you.” She repeated, to herself or to him — Aemond didn’t know.

The prince’s breath had grown a little shallow at her words, a frown forming on his face. The idea of their next encounter being on the battlefield, facing off against each other like enemies was a thought that pained him, even though he knew it was a possibility. He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t hesitate either, that he would fight her with everything he had if they ever met in battle, but the words stuck in his throat. He simply nodded in acknowledgement.

Once again, she left him. Aemond would be a King without a Queen, half of his soul forsaken in his search for power. It had to be worth it.

Bur they wouldn’t meet again, not in the context of war or any other.

She would meet her demise alongside her brother in the Battle of The Gullet. Fighting hard like a Strong, dying besides her dragon like a Targaryen and laying to rest at sea like a Velaryon.

He would grow mad at her perishing, ire overcoming his every sense. And he would eventually be slayed by her stepfather at The Battle Above God’s Eye.

Their love was epic, a fierce tale of forbidden passion that would never be written about inside history books. The only legacy they would leave behind had been scribbled onto a stone wall years before.

A.T. & A.V.

---

Taglist: @onlyrealjoy @siriusblackssun @adombtch

#aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan nation

531 notes · View notes

hiddenavenues · 3 months ago

Text

Where Boundaries Blur and Desires Go Unspoken

Logan Howlett/GN!Reader MDNI 18+

a/n: I can't tell if this is good or not because I have proofread it so much... so I'm banking on you guys letting me know. Also, happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate!

CW: Mean!Logan, Logan's got some control issues, angst w/ comfort sex, yelling, jealousy, Explicit sexual content, degration if you squint, Cunnilingus, P in V, Aftercare

"How many times do I have to say no before it sinks into your thick skull?" Logan's voice was dangerously low, venom dripping off each word as he stood between you and the jet doors.

You have been arguing since you woke up this morning about a mission you want to take part in. Charles had invited you, said you were ready, and that it'd be an excellent first mission, but Logan thought otherwise. When you told him about it a few days ago, you assumed his immediate no was him being a protective mother hen, but now you see it's more than that.

"You better not be talking to me like that, Logan." You bite out, voice thick with anger. Logan had been dodgy about what he wanted between you, some days gifting you flowers from missions, other times knocking on your bedroom door late at night with nothing pure in his intentions.

Logan let out a bitter laugh, leaning down to be at eye level with you. "No one wants you on this mission. You're inexperienced, a risk to us all, and just as likely to kill one of us as the enemy." You sneered at him, a low growl ripping from your throat as a steady ache grew in your chest. Logan turned on his heel as if you were nothing to him, dismissing you with a look before striding toward the jet.

You walked after him, nails digging into the flesh of your palms in an effort to calm your rage. "How am I supposed to get experience if you throw a tantrum whenever I want to go? I am ready. I want to help." Logan stopped and turned to face you outside the jetbridge.

"Ready?" He scoffs. "You're not ready for this, and you never will be. You're a liability, and the only reason Charles invited you is because he's too soft to see what a mistake it is." His voice was louder now, and as much as you wished Jean and Storm wouldn't listen, you knew they were hearing every word. "You think this is about me being overprotective? No, I just don't want to have to drag your dead weight back in a body bag." Without giving you time for a rebuttal, Logan turned his back to you and walked up the jetbride, Jean and Storm giving you a sad smile from inside.

You felt your face crumple as his words hit home; burying his claws in your chest would've hurt less. A ringing in your ears grew louder by the second, nearly drowning out the deafening hum of the jet turbines. "Go ahead, leave. I won't be waiting for you when you come back." Your voice broke with emotion as you shouted at him, but you held your head high and your spine straight as you walked away. You could feel his eyes burning holes into your back, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of turning around.

Your blood was on fire, molten lava coursing through your veins. You waited for the doors out of the jet bay to slide shut behind you before sending your first into the wall, a colourful flow of curses following. He never spoke to you like that, as if you were nothing more than dirt under his shoe. Your chest felt like it could cave in any second; the uniform you had so excitedly pulled on this morning for your first mission felt stupid now, like you were wearing a costume you'd never grow into.

Your thoughts continued to spiral as you took the elevator up to the main levels of the house. Logan's words echoed through your mind. You're a liability. It felt as though only a husk of yourself was walking through the halls, the warm sunny day outside mocking you.

As if the day couldn't get any worse, Scott rounded the corner before you, brows raised upon seeing you. "Chickened out so soon? You wouldn't shut up about it earlier." Scott asked, concern etched into his forehead as he watched you. You have grown close since you arrived at the school nearly two years ago. You always helped each other through everything, pinging opinions off each other over any decision, big or small. Scott almost ripped your head off when he first heard about you and Logan, saying how selfish, annoying, and mean he always is. Maybe he was right.

You sigh, a knot forming in your throat at the thought of explaining your encounter with Logan. Scott must have seen the misery on your face because before you knew it, he was taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen, plopping you down on a chair at the table. While he made the two of you something to drink, you told him about the fight with Logan, trying your best not to break down where someone could easily walk in.

Scott slid a mug of hot chocolate across the table, settling into his chair with a cool, calculating look. “So, how’re you gonna get him back?” His voice was steady, but the cold anger in his eyes was unmistakable.

You bristled at the question, revenge being the furthest thing from your mind. “I’m not,” you replied sharply, shaking your head.

"Oh, come on, someone has to put kitty cat in his place. From the sounds of it, you have the upper hand." His grin widened as confusion flickered across your face. "Don't tell me you can't see it? Logan’s so fucked up that he thinks hurting you to keep you off the mission is protecting you. He's shown his entire hand." Scott leaned forward on his elbows, eyes locked on yours. "So I'll ask again. How're you gonna get him back?"

For a moment, you hesitated, Scott’s words sinking in. Logan had always been possessive, scaring off any guy who got too close for his liking. Even though you weren’t officially together, he’d growl at anyone who dared approach, flashing an innocent look your way whenever you caught him.

"Actually,” A grin creeps across your face. “I think I might have an idea."

You wake to the sound of the jet returning from its mission, early morning light seeping through the windows as you pad down the hall to Scott's bedroom door. It opens on the first knock to reveal Scott, face puffy and eyes heavy with sleep.

You brush past him into the room and stand before his mirror, fussing your hair and rubbing your eyes to pull this charade off as Scott flops back into bed. You tug at your clothes, trying your best to look freshly fucked before turning to face Scott, whose eyes were so lidded with sleep you wondered if he'd remember any of this.

"So, how do I look?" You ask, giving him a spin.

Scott huffs a laugh. "Honestly? Dishevelled. You're missing the afterglow, but otherwise, you'd fool even me into thinking you had the fuck of your life in here."

"Only in your dreams." The sound of creaking stairs silenced your banter as you listened to Logan making his way to his room.

"Ah-ah-ah, be careful, kitty's got special hearing. Don't wanna foil your plan so soon, do ya?" Scott whispered, giving you a wink before tucking back into bed, content to go back to sleep, utterly ignorant to your heart's racing. You sucked in a deep breath before opening the door and stepping into the dark hallway.

You hear more than see Logan's steps stutter against the carpeted flooring as you shut Scott's door behind you, feigning surprise when you spot him in front of you. "Shit! You snuck up on me." You feign surprise, letting a nervous laugh follow your words, eyes flickering from his to the floor.

Logan's face was unreadable. His eyebrows pinched together as he looked at you with something like hurt in his eyes. His gaze darted from your face to the room you had just come out of, the puzzle pieces in his mind slowly clicking together. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before Logan grabbed your arm and dragged you across the hall into his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

"What the fuck.” He growls, pinning you against the bedroom door. “I tell you ‘no’ one time, and you go spreading your legs to anyone?"

"Oh, someone's jealous, hm?" You tease, heartbeat loud in your ears as your breath comes in hot pants. Logan’s eyes darken with desire, his nostrils flaring as he catches the scent of your arousal coating your thighs.

"Oh, you preening slut." He mocks, pressing his chest further into yours, firmly crushing you into the door. "Straight from Scott's bed to mine? You didn't even make it two steps, baby." His voice filled with condescension. You hold back a whimper at his words, making a point to look at anything but his eyes. Bringing a hand to your chin, Logan forces your gaze on his. "Funny thing is, the only sex I smell on you is your own, and we both know Scott’s too scared to touch what’s mine." Your breath catches in your throat as Logan's knee nudges between yours, pressing into your heat.

"Admit it, you only threw a fit yesterday because you care about me. You don't want me out there 'cause the idea of me getting hurt scares you." You say, breathless and flushed, lust fogging your mind as Logan begins to grind you down on his thigh. You can't stop your hips from bucking against him, desperate for any friction.

Your gasps and whines of pleasure fill the room as you grind yourself on his thigh. Your breath mingles with his as a coil winds itself in your core, tightening with each roll of your hips. A loud whimper falls from your lips as Logan stills your movement before picking you up, bringing you to his bed and tossing you on the blankets.

With your back to the mattress, Logan kneels between your thighs, your clothed cunt inches from his face. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say about that, hun.” He whispers as his fingers brush the skin above your waistband. Even as your mind swims from the intensity of his gaze, you can easily spot a blush coating his cheeks.

“Fucking bullshit,” You breathe, hands darting out to slip your pants down. “I know you want me. I know you were jealous when you saw me coming out of Scott’s room. If this were ‘just sex,’ you wouldn’t give a shit who I fuck, Logan.” The hand he has on your abdomen starts toying with your waistband, eyes watching your face intensely. “You’re so scared you might be able to love me that you don’t let yourself do anything more than bed me and throw me out after and act like you don’t give a fuck.”

The room was silent, your words echoing against the walls. Your breathing was loud in your ears as you held each other's gaze. It felt like a millennia passed before Logan replied.

“Here’s the plan.” The timbre in his voice had you clenching your thighs together. “I’m gonna fuck you, gonna have you cryin’ for me, and only after I have you fucked stupid in my bed ‘n wearing my shirt.” Logan’s hand trails down to your knee, placing a large hand on your thigh. “Only then do I plan on being any kinda ‘boyfriend material.’”

You nod eagerly, head falling to your shoulder as Logan’s fingers lazily finish tugging down your pants, exposing your lack of underthings to him. Logan’s eyes blaze with lust, hands sliding up your thighs to hold your hips still. You nearly moan at the sight of him, eyes half-lidded, mouth slightly agape, and your thighs resting on his powerful shoulders. His breath is hot on your naked heat as he hovers inches above you, teasing you with his mouth. A breathy moan escapes your lips as Logan presses wet kisses to your core.

Logan was immortal, and god did his oral prove it. Before long, he has you moaning and writhing against him with your hand tangled in his hair. Each tug of his hair earns you a deep growl as he devours your cunt, juices coating his face. Your breath is uneven as your back bows off the mattress.

“Fuck Logan, I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!” You shout, a familiar coil winding in your core as Logan continues lapping at your clit. You pull Logan further into your cunt, needing him closer, deeper. The coil snaps, waves of white hot pleasure wracking your body as your mouth falls to form a silent ‘O’. Logan’s eyes watch you intently as you come back down, waiting for you to start pushing him away before he dares to stop ravaging you. Panting, you slump into the mattress, mind reeling as Logan kisses up your body before bringing his mouth to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Did so good, so good for me. Need you to give me a few more mk?” Logan whispered into your neck as he positioned himself above you. You nod at him as you reach for his belt, hands making quick work of the buckle before eagerly unzipping and yanking his pants down. The tent in his boxers looked painfully tight; the sight alone nearly had your mouth watering. You let out an unsteady breath as your hand caresses his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, Logan’s responding moan nothing but predatory.

“Don’t get bratty, or I’ll fuck you so loud the entire school will know who’s cock your creaming on.” Logan has his boxers pulled down before he finishes his sentence, cock slapping against his abdomen and a bead of pre-cum rolling down the head. Your eyes are glued to his cock as he begins slowly stroking himself. You grind into nothing, desperate for any friction, while Logan reaches into his bedside table to pull out a rubber, giving you a wink as if to say hey, safe sex is great sex.

Resting his forehead on your shoulder, Logan aligns himself with you, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. “Tell me when you’re ready, baby,” he whispers, pressing tender kisses along your neck. You give him the go-ahead with a slight nod, and Logan slowly eases into you. His breath shudders against your skin, a low moan escaping you in response.

He pauses, giving your body time to adjust. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it, but something about this was different than your usual bedding habits: softer, less angry. When you finally beg him to move, Logan obliges, filling you with a steady, measured rhythm that leaves you gasping for more.

Each thrust has the bed shaking, the frame groaning with each piston of Logan’s hips. Your cunt sucks him in eagerly, the sound of your soaked sex embarrassingly loud in your ears as Logan increases his pace.

“No one else makes you feel this good, right bub?” Logan’s voice is breathy and muffled as he kisses your chest, sucking love bites into any exposed skin. You moan loudly, pussy clenching around him in response as your mind fails to find words to reply. You’re drunk off his cock, obsessed with the drag of him against your core, each thrust deeper than the last. You claw at his back as his thrusts grow sloppy, both of your moans turning feral and broken as a familiar burn grows low in your abdomen.

“G’nna cum, sweetheart,” Logan pants, moans bouncing off the walls of his room. “Taking me so well, g’nna fill you up, baby.”

“Fuck Lo, please, please.” Your words descend into indistinguishable mumbling as the fire in your abdomen spreads down your thighs, burning hotter with each slap of Logan's hips. Fire sears through your veins, and distantly you can hear yourself screaming, moaning, and babbling beneath Logan as he fucks you relentlessly into the mattress. His cock fills you, rocking deliciously into the spongey spot deep inside that has you seeing stars.

“Oh, fuck-” A moan rips from Logan’s chest as his hips stutter, his release coating your thighs. Logan’s pace doesn’t slow, instead rubbing frantic circles into your clit. “C’mon baby cum for me.” The pressure in your abdomen builds before crashing down, your walls spasming around his already overstimulated cock. Your back arches off the bed as Logan kisses you desperately, letting you ride out your orgasm.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his as both of you catch your breath. In the dim light of the bedroom, Logan looked almost ethereal, his hair tousled from your fingers, pupils blown wide as he gazes at you with a softness you’ve never seen. With a low groan, Logan carefully pulls out of you, allowing your trembling legs to relax against the bed before quietly muttering something about the washroom.

Your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion and overstimulation threatening to pull you into sleep. Moments later, the sensation of something warm and soft against your skin made you stir, a quiet whine escaping you.

“Shhh, it’s alright, love. Just cleaning you up, that’s all.” Logan’s hand gently steadies your hips, stopping your squirming as he cleans you up. Once he’s done, he helps you into one of his shirts and tucks the blanket around you. A thought flickers through your mind- this is the first time Logan’s slept next to you after sex, typically insisting he sleep on the couch or carry you to your room. You mutter a thank you into his chest, fighting the pull of sleep.

Logan plants a kiss on your forehead as his arms envelop you. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up,”

You hum quietly, “Really getting the whole boyfriend experience, aren’t I?” Even with his enhanced hearing, he has to strain to catch your words as drowsiness pulls you under.

Logan listens to your breathing even out, sleep taking over your mind as he sighs into the comfort of your embrace. “Who said this couldn’t be permanent?” He whispers to the room, hoping to find the confidence to tell you in the morning.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed<3

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine #logan howlett #fanfiction #wolverine x you #hugh jackman #james logan howlett #xmen #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #james howlett #the wolverine

211 notes · View notes

dark-and-kawaii · 5 months ago

Text

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊ Please ₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Summary: You go to find Zevlor, to comfort him. Only to have it lead to him pressing your back against a tree, his lips hot against yours.

Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader

✧₊⁺ Content: NSFW - Hurt/Comfort - Fingering - Making Out - Zevlor Hates What He Is - Creampie

✧₊⁺ Notes: Thank you @madam-kumo for the drawing of Lofn <3

Zevlor found himself restless, his mind unable to escape the turmoil of the past few days. The weight of leadership, the constant threat to his people, and the unexpected depth of his feelings for you all pressed heavily on him. Seeking solace, he wandered through the grove as much as he could, his thoughts inevitably drifting back to you. He found himself missing your voice and the way his name sounded on your lips, but even more so he found himself wishing that things could be different.

That was not a new feeling.

He'd often wondered what life could have been like had things been different, had he been born normal rather than some foulblood... Had his people been born as elves or humans... But instead they were all cursed- cursed to hide and fight, to survive, to struggle for every small comfort they could find. Even now, when he had finally met someone, someone who made him feel as though he wasn't broken or cursed, the weight of him being what he was...

It would always hold him down. He would never be able to give you the life you deserved, a failure of a man... That's what he was, and the thought of you living a life filled with ridicule and judgement at his side broke his heart. He wanted more for you, more than what he could offer.

It was better this way, to keep his distance, he reminded himself. You would find a cure for the parasite within you and your allies, a home in the city, surrounded by friends, and live the happy and fulfilling life you deserved. And he... He would be happy for you.

Even if it meant that his heart would stay here, among the groves ruins, broken and buried.

As he continued to wonder he made his way just outside the gates and atop a green hill where he could stare at the stars above, watching the heavens and listen to the wind dance through the leaves, where he could allow the soft breeze soothe his aching heart. He'd been so distracted he hadn't noticed someone approach him until a small hand slid onto his bicep...

Your scent and your touch were unmistakable, but why would you be here? As he turned around with his eyes closed he found himself believe this was nothing more than a trick of his mind...

But when his lashes fluttered open, there you stood... Bathed in the soft glow of the moon and the gentle breeze playing in your hair... Those beautiful eyes of yours looked up at him, searching his face and his soul.

“Zevlor,” you greeted, your voice ever so soothing, “Is everything alright? You seemed troubled earlier-“

“You shouldn't be out here past the gates…”

“Why?”

“It's late. and it's not safe-“

You smiled fondly at him, “I think I can handle myself~”

He huffed, “I have no doubt of that, but you shouldn't be alone out here.”

“What about you, aren't you alone out here?” You continued to smile, not at all swayed by his words, and instead you nudged him a little, “Besides, i'm not alone. Not anymore at least.”

The corner of his mouth twitched and the tension in his shoulders lessened a little, but only a little.

“Why did you follow me out here?”

Your gaze fell to the ground, your voice a whisper, “Because, we may have only met a short time ago... But I can tell, Zevlor.” your smile faltered, “I can tell something is wrong…”

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat, his jaw clenching and unclenching. But the concern in your eyes, the genuine worry... “I don't want to burden you.”

You frown deepened, your grip on his arm tightening, “Zevlor, you aren't a burden. Please... Let me be there for you.”

Zevlor closed his eyes and sighed, unable to look at you, not when the way you looked at him made his chest feel tight, “Everything feels... overwhelming.” he admitted, his voice low and earnest, “I feel like a failure. A failure of a leader. If my people are ever going to survive, truly survive this journey, I need to be at my best... But-“ he looks down at his hands, his claws and his palms calloused and rough, “so many have lost their lives already, and I'm responsible for them... I'm supposed to protect them, not let them parish. There's so few of us left, i-“

He could feel your fingers slip into his hand, your touch so gentle and soft, “You've done everything you can to ensure your people survive and thrive. They wouldn't have gotten this far without you, and you have given them the tools and the strength to keep going. So many of them look up to you Zevlor, even the children-“

“How do I keep going when i'm the reason why their families are gone, when it's because of me that they will never get to know their mothers and fathers?”

You squeeze his hand, “No... Zevlor, none of their blood is on your hands. You're just one man, a Hellrider without his men to back him up. You have been fighting and teaching those who wish to learn. You have done and kept so many of them safe. It's not your fault, it's not-“

“Then why does it feel like it is?”

You let go of his hand, and before he could question your actions you had taken a step closer and wrapped your arms around him, your forehead pressing against his chest, “Because you care about your people... But you shouldn't be alone.” you looked up at him, “Don't try to carry the world on your shoulders... To shoulder the burden alone. Let me help.”

“How could you possibly-“

“I can't, not by myself, but together-“

The commander allowed himself to lean into your touch, to let the walls he had built around himself crumble, if only for a moment. You were like a lifeline, a reminder that he wasn't alone, not when you were around. And for a moment, Zevlor found himself wondering what would happen if he didn't have to be strong. What would happen if he allowed himself a moment of peace- a moment of happiness.

“Please,” your voice was barely a whisper, “Let me in.”

His need for comfort evolving into something deeper, more intimate as he reached for you, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the delicate line of your jaw, “Thank you.”

The world seemed to fade away as he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that spoke of everything he could not say aloud, everything he couldn't admit even to himself. Everything he would deny if asked. His other hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. It was a gentle exploration at first, a tentative dance of emotions laid bare.

Your arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer, the kiss deepening, a shared promise, a vow, a confession.

You both needed each other in this moment, needed one another as much as the other needed the air to breathe. The heat from the kiss spreading through your body, the sensation making your head spin, a tingling feeling growing between your legs, and Zevlor could smell it, your arousal.

And in that moment, you knew.

There was no going back. This was it.

Zevlor was the first to pull away, his infernal eyes searching yours, as if asking permission.

Your hands found his face before bringing him back to you, your forehead kissing his, your voice nothing more than breathless whispers, “I don't want to be alone either, not anymore.”

His tail wrapped around you and his lips claimed yours once more.

You were his salvation, the light at the end of the dark path, his guiding star, and he would be damned if he let you go, not when the way your body fit him so wonderfully, felt so right, so perfect. Your hands running over his skin, touching him in ways he had only dreamt of, his own hands exploring every inch of your skin, memorizing the way your body moved. Slowly, his legs moved you backwards until your back pressed against a nearby tree. His fingers tracing the contour of your breasts beneath the fabric that hid them away, your nipples hardening at his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“Zevlor~ Please- i-“

He silenced you with another kiss, his tongue parting your lips, his own need for you growing.

His fingers slipped beneath your pants, teasing your slick entrance, his claws gently scratching at the tender skin, earning him a low whine from the back of your throat, “Mnph~ Zevlor- Please-!”

Your hands traveled down his body, fumbling with the leather strap that held his pants up, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest as his mouth found your neck, kissing, licking and sucking, forever being the man he is and never leaving a mark. His own fingers slipping into you, pumping in and out carefully, his thumb circling your clit.

The world seemed to be spinning as you struggled to focus on anything other than his touch, his scent, and the pleasure that was building inside of you. Your fingers finally managed to release the catch that kept his pants up, and the moment it fell to the ground his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already leaking precum.

Taking him into your hands, stroking his length slowly, earning a sweet little hiss through his clenched teeth, “T-Tav-“

Zevlor’s fingers slipped out of you, leaving you feeling empty, only to quickly undo the belt of your own pants. Once his hands had freed your legs he pulled your pants off, throwing them into the pile his own pants had created.

You could feel his tail snake around your upper thigh, tightening its hold around your leg as his hand moved to the back of your other thigh, lifting you up with ease. Lining his cock up with your entrance, the tip rubbing against your wet folds, teasing your clit… Gods he was so warm, and so damn big-

And then, Zevlor slowly pushed his way into you, your back arching while your mouth fell open in a silent gasp… He was stretching you like no other had, his girth filling every inch of your aching pussy, making your toes curl and his name spilling from your lips.

You both stayed still for a moment, adjusting to the other, savoring the sensation of being joined, and Zevlor allowed you to move first, allowing you to set the pace. Your hips moved, grinding against his cock, and his head tilted back, his teeth clenched… A thick gulp bobbed in his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, his hips starting to rock with yours.

It started off slow and sensual, his mouth claiming yours, his tongue slipping between your lips.

And then the kiss became heated, more desperate and needy, the hunger in the pits of your stomachs growing and spreading. Your legs locking around his waist as the rhythm of his hips began to pick up, his cock slamming into you, making you cry out in bliss.

Your nails scratching his back, your lips marking his chest, his shoulder, anywhere you could reach, “d-don’t stop~ p-please Zev- don’t s-stop- a-ah- ah- oh~ oh gods~ mnn~”

His voice was barely a whisper, his hot breath hitting your neck as he nuzzled the sensitive skin, “Never.”

You could feel the coil inside you tighten, threatening to snap as your pussy began to clench around his cock, his name becoming a mantra on your lips. Zevlor could feel you were close, could smell the sweet perfume of your orgasm approaching, and it was driving him insane, his hips bucking into you, his cock bullying your insides, his teeth sinking into the junction between your neck and shoulder.

The sharp sting of his bite enough to send you over the edge, and as your pussy spasmed around him, your orgasm crashing down upon you, he buried himself inside you, his thighs trembling, the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, flooding your womb with his seed, his seed filling every inch of your greedy pussy.

Your bodies shook, the aftershocks of the mind-blowing orgasm sending shivers through your whole being, and as Zevlor carefully pulled out of you, his cum leaking out and running down your thighs, the reality of the situation crashed upon you both.

There truly was no going back now.

Your hand moving up to the mark he had left on your skin, the sting still there, and when you pulled your hand away, a crimson hue greeted you.

Zevlor’s eyes grew wide as his mind registered what had happened, “Tav… I-I am sorry, I-I didn't mean to- i- I shouldn't have- i'm-i-“

His eyes were filled with fear and regret, his mind racing, cursing himself for letting his instincts take over, for being so damn careless, for acting like a damn devil-

But his words died in his throat as you moved a finger to his lips, “Shhhh, it's ok. Don't apologize... I... I don't regret it.It’ll be a nice little reminder of you when we have to travel our separate ways.”

Your heart broke a little at the thought, at the reality of the situation, but it was the truth. You knew that the time spent here would be short lived, and yet, in this moment, the idea of having to leave his side and never see him again hurt more than anything you could imagine.

His hand covered yours, holding it gently as he kissed the back of your palm, a soft sigh escaping him. He had wanted to be a man and not a devil for just a moment, and instead he had given in, unable to control the infernal half of himself he supposed.

“Zevlor,”

He hummed, not quite meeting your gaze.

“Promise me we will meet in Baldur's Gate.”

His eyes locked with yours, surprise evident in his gaze.

You smile, and he finds himself falling all over again, his heart melting, knowing he would do whatever it takes to see that smile of yours, to keep it alive, “I swear it by all the gods above, my light.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #tav #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #zevlor x tav #zevlor x reader #bg3 smut

216 notes · View notes

ginxyy · 3 months ago

Text

Tension

Tension…. Sexual tension and jealousy

The studio had always felt like a second home. Its familiar smell of wood, equipment, and the faint traces of coffee made it a place where ideas flowed naturally. But today, that comfort was gone. Everything was different. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on me as I sat at the soundboard, pretending to work.

Mingyu’s presence was suffocating, even though he stood across the room with the rest of Seventeen. He hadn’t said a word to me since the argument, but I could feel his eyes on me, burning with a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place.

It had all gone wrong so quickly. Mingyu and I had been friends for years, close in a way that felt natural, but always simmering beneath the surface was this undeniable tension. There had been moments where it felt like the lines between friendship and something more had blurred. The way his hand would linger on my back, or how his voice would drop lower when he spoke to me late at night. But we had never crossed that line. Not until I started dating his bandmate, Minghao.

I hadn’t meant for things to get this messy. Mingyu had started seeing someone else, and it had hurt more than I’d expected. I wanted to move on, or at least make it look like I had. Minghao was kind, sweet even, and I thought maybe being with him would help me forget about whatever it was that Mingyu and I had left unsaid. But it only made things worse.

When Mingyu found out, his reaction had been immediate and explosive. We’d fought in front of everyone, the studio becoming a battleground as voices rose and accusations flew. He was furious—angry in a way that felt personal, like I had betrayed him. But how could I betray him when he wasn’t mine to begin with?

That had been days ago, and though the fight had subsided, the storm between us hadn’t. It was still there, crackling in the silence between us. Every time our eyes met, the air seemed to buzz with unresolved emotions.

Now, the rest of Seventeen was packing up to leave, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened, oblivious to the tension that still hung in the room. Mingyu stood by the door, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on me as I tried to focus on the computer screen in front of me, pretending to edit a track.

As the last of them filed out, I felt a shift in the air. The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly it was just the two of us.

I glanced up, my heart pounding. Mingyu hadn’t moved. He was still standing by the door, his jaw clenched, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Mingyu,” I started, my voice coming out more strained than I intended, “we need to talk.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he took a slow step forward, then another, until he was standing directly in front of me. His presence was overwhelming, and I could feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned down, placing his hands on the desk on either side of me, trapping me in place.

“Mingyu..”

“Why him?” His voice was low, almost a growl, but I could hear the hurt buried beneath the anger. “Why did it have to be him?”

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. “You’re dating someone else,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “What was I supposed to do? Wait around for you to figure out what you want?”

His eyes flashed, and before I could react, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was rough, almost desperate, like he was trying to prove something. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My mind was spinning, but my body responded instinctively, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him back with the same intensity.

It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was a clash of emotions anger, frustration, desire all pouring out in a whirlwind of heated touches and breathless kisses. Mingyu’s hands roamed over my body, gripping my hips, my waist, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

I pulled away for a moment, gasping for air. “This… this isn’t right,” I managed to say, but the words felt hollow even as they left my mouth.

Mingyu’s forehead pressed against mine, his breath heavy and uneven. “I don’t care,” he muttered, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “I can’t… I can’t stand seeing you with him. You’re mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and before I could protest, he kissed me again, his hands sliding under my shirt, the heat of his touch igniting something deep within me.

I should have stopped it. I knew this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. But every rational thought disappeared the moment his lips found my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. My body reacted on instinct, arching into him, craving more of the intensity he was offering.

The room seemed to blur around us, the only sounds the frantic rustle of clothes and the desperate gasps for air between kisses. It was chaotic, messy, and nothing like the quiet, unsaid feelings we’d harbored for so long. But it was real, raw in a way that neither of us could ignore.

Mingyu’s grip tightened as he backed me up against the wall, his lips never leaving mine. His kiss grew even more demanding, his hands exploring every inch of skin he could reach. It was like he was making up for lost time, for all the moments we had let slip by without acting on the tension between us.

I broke away again, panting as I looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with so many emotions I couldn’t read. Anger, desire, maybe even regret. But beneath it all, there was something else. Something deeper that neither of us had dared to admit.

“Mingyu,” I whispered, my voice shaky as I reached up to touch his face, my fingers brushing against his cheek.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, his breath ragged. “Don’t,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Don’t say anything.”

But I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, I saw the vulnerability he had been hiding. “Because I didn’t know how,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And now… now it’s too late.”

The weight of his words hung heavy between us, but before I could respond, he kissed me again, silencing any further conversation. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, memorizing the feel of me against him.

The world outside the studio didn’t matter anymore. It was just us, caught in the whirlwind of emotions we had been avoiding for so long. There was no going back now.

Mingyu’s body pressed harder against mine, and the heat between us was palpable. Every breath felt like fire, every touch electric as his lips claimed mine with a passion that sent shockwaves through me. His hands roamed down my sides, fingertips pressing into my skin like he was desperate to memorize every curve, every inch.

I couldn’t think anymore there was no room for thought. The only thing that existed was the overwhelming need, the raw, unrestrained desire that had been building between us for so long. Mingyu kissed me like he was drowning, and I was the air he so desperately needed. His lips moved with a fierce intensity, pulling soft gasps and moans from my throat, and I didn’t care if anyone could hear. All I wanted was him here, now, and forever.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as his hand slid beneath the hem of my shirt. The skin-on-skin contact sent sparks through me, and I arched into him, wanting no, needing more. I tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head in a frantic rush, and when his bare chest met mine, the intensity between us only deepened.

Mingyu’s breath hitched as my hands slid across his skin, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath my fingertips. He was perfect solid, warm, and everything I had ever wanted but had never allowed myself to admit. His hand came to rest on the small of my back, pulling me even closer, until there wasn’t a sliver of space between us. His lips found mine again, more demanding this time, his teeth grazing my bottom lip, making me gasp.

I felt the cool air hit my skin as he tugged my shirt off, tossing it aside without breaking the kiss. His hands were everywhere at once, sliding up my back, gripping my hips, as if he couldn’t get enough. And I didn’t want him to stop. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, the taste of him overwhelming my senses.

“Mingyu,” I breathed, my voice trembling as I pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that took my breath away. “I—”

“Don’t,” he cut me off, his voice rough and hoarse as his forehead pressed against mine. “Don’t say anything. Just… let me have this.”

There was a raw vulnerability in his words, and it broke something inside me. I could feel the weight of everything unsaid between us the years of friendship, the countless times we had held back, the confusion of watching him date someone else while I buried my feelings for him. But here, in this moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was him, and the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world.

He kissed me again, slow and deep, and it felt like everything was unraveling. His hands slid down my sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and when his fingers found the waistband of my jeans, I shivered. He paused for a split second, his eyes searching mine for permission, and when I nodded, he wasted no time in unbuttoning them, his fingers deft as he pulled them down.

I kicked them off, barely aware of anything but the feel of him. The intensity between us was so thick I could barely breathe. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me effortlessly as he pressed me back against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist, and the heat of his body against mine sent a jolt of pleasure through me.

I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as he kissed his way down my neck, his breath hot against my skin. Every touch, every kiss was a mixture of need and frustration, of emotions we had kept bottled up for so long. And now that the dam had broken, there was no going back.

“Mingyu,” I whispered his name, barely able to form coherent thoughts as his lips trailed lower, his tongue flicking against my collarbone. My back arched involuntarily, and I could feel him smirk against my skin, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me.

“You’re mine,” he muttered, his voice low and possessive as his hands gripped my hips tighter. “You’ve always been mine.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped my lips. His mouth found mine again, and this time the kiss was slower, more deliberate. It wasn’t just about the physical anymore it was about everything that had been left unsaid for so long.

I could feel the tension building between us, the need becoming almost unbearable as his hands moved lower, tugging at the last barrier of clothing between us. My breath hitched as he slid my underwear down, the cool air hitting my heated skin, but any nerves I might have felt were drowned out by the sheer intensity of the moment.

Mingyu’s lips never left mine as he pulled me even closer, his body pressing firmly against mine. The sensation was overwhelming, and I could feel every inch of him, hard and ready, as he held me in place. The air between us was thick with anticipation, and I could feel the trembling in his hands as they roamed over my body, almost as if he was afraid this moment wasn’t real.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint as he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes.

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darkened at my words, and without another second of hesitation, he closed the distance between us. The world seemed to stop as he pressed into me, the sensation sending a shockwave through my entire body. I gasped, my fingers digging into his arms as I tried to anchor myself in the storm of emotions crashing through me.

He moved slowly at first, his breath hot against my neck as he kissed me softly, his movements deliberate, as if he was savoring every second. But soon, the restraint began to crumble, and the slow, deliberate rhythm turned into something more primal, more desperate.

Every thrust, every movement, was filled with a need so raw it was almost painful. Mingyu’s hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer, deeper, and I could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to keep control. I clung to him, my nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his back as I tried to keep up with the overwhelming pace he was setting.

The sound of our ragged breaths and soft gasps filled the room, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of the emotions between us. This wasn’t just about lust, or even love. It was about everything we had held back, every moment we had spent pretending we didn’t want each other.

Mingyu’s lips found mine again, and this time the kiss was softer, almost reverent, as if he was trying to tell me everything he couldn’t say with words. I kissed him back just as desperately, my body trembling with the force of everything I was feeling.

“I love you,” he breathed against my lips, his voice barely audible but filled with so much emotion it made my heart ache. “I’ve always loved you.”

The tears finally spilled over at his words, and I couldn’t stop them, even as I kissed him back, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I love you too,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the weight of everything finally settled over me.

Mingyu’s movements became more frantic, more desperate, and I could feel the tension building between us, the pleasure spiraling higher and higher until it was almost unbearable. I clung to him, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the world around us seemed to blur.

And then, with one final, desperate thrust, everything shattered. The pleasure crashed over me like a tidal wave, and I cried out, my body trembling as I clung to him, riding the wave of emotions that threatened to pull me under.

Mingyu followed seconds later, his body tensing as he buried his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he groaned, the sound low and raw. He held me tightly, his hands gripping my hips as he rode out the final waves of pleasure, his body trembling against mine.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, our breaths mingling in the heavy silence of the studio as we clung to each other, both of us too overwhelmed by what had just happened to speak.

The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by our heavy breathing. Mingyu’s arms remained wrapped around me, his forehead resting against my shoulder as we stayed pressed together, neither of us wanting to let go. His body was still trembling slightly, and I could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, syncing with mine in a way that felt almost too intimate.

Slowly, the weight of everything settled in the years of unspoken tension, the tangled mess of emotions that had exploded between us. This moment felt like the culmination of it all, and yet, now that it had happened, the world outside the studio seemed to feel too small for everything we had just shared.

Mingyu finally lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine, and the raw vulnerability in them made my heart ache. His thumb brushed gently over my cheek, wiping away the tear tracks that had dried there, and for a moment, all the heat, all the urgency, dissolved into something softer. Something deeper.

“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, barely audible. His hand was still on my face, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw with a tenderness that took my breath away. “I thought… I thought I could ignore it, that I could keep pretending. But I can’t anymore.”

His words hung between us, and I reached up, covering his hand with mine as I tried to find the right thing to say. But the truth was, there were no perfect words for this moment. There was only the truth the raw, messy truth we had both been running from for so long.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “I didn’t know how to handle it either. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

A shadow crossed his face, and his grip on me tightened, as if he were afraid I might slip away. “I never wanted to hurt you either,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “Seeing you with Minghao, it killed me. I thought if I could just push you away, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. But it did. It always did.”

My heart clenched at the raw pain in his voice, and I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. “I was scared,” I admitted, the words barely a whisper. “Scared that if I said how I felt, you’d push me away for good. And then… then you started dating her, and I thought that was it. That we’d never… that I’d never be enough.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, as if he was trying to find the words that would make this easier. But there was no easy way to unravel the tangled web of emotions that had brought us here.

“You were always enough,” he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a confession. “I just… I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know if I could give you everything you deserved. And when you went on that date with Minghao, it made me realize how stupid I’d been.”

There was a weight to his words that settled deep in my chest, and I could feel the tears threatening to spill over again. But they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of release, of finally letting go of all the fear and doubt that had held me back for so long.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I reached up to cradle his face in my hands. “I don’t want to pretend this doesn’t matter, that you don’t matter. I want this. I want you.”

Mingyu’s breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But then, he was kissing me again softly, reverently, as if he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my heart swell, and I felt the warmth of his love in every gentle touch.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t fueled by anger or frustration or years of pent-up desire. It was something more something fragile and beautiful, something that spoke of love that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, waiting for the right moment to be set free.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world outside the studio falling away. There was no one else in the world but us no bandmates, no expectations, no lingering jealousy or regrets. Just Mingyu and me, caught in this quiet moment of clarity.

Eventually, he pulled away, his forehead resting against mine again as he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what happens next,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how we figure all of this out. But I don’t care. As long as we do it together.”

I smiled softly, my fingers brushing through his hair as I held him close. “We’ll figure it out,” I promised, my voice steady. “We’ve come this far. We can handle whatever comes next.”

For the first time since this whirlwind between us had begun, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. The future was uncertain, and I knew there would be challenges ahead things to work through, to heal from. But for now, in this moment, everything felt right.

Mingyu kissed me again, softer this time, as if sealing the promise between us. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, and I melted into him, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last remnants of doubt.

We stayed like that, holding each other in the dim light of the studio, until the world outside started to stir again. But it didn’t matter. The noise, the chaos it all felt distant compared to the quiet certainty I found in his arms.

Because now, there was no more running. No more pretending. Mingyu and I had finally crossed the line we had been dancing around for years, and there was no going back.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to.

154 notes · View notes

evvyyypeters-fics · 5 months ago

Text

A Ghost In the Bed

Perv!Tate Langdon x dom!f!reader oneshot

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ zero plot, masturbation (male), handjob, obsession, pantie fucking, femdom, a lil mommy kink, humiliation

In honor of it being officially Murder House season (to me at least) I bring u this masterpiece I created. Inspired mainly by @fear-is-truth

It was the blood moon tonight, and suspiciously every time the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon glared down onto the cold ambience of autumn, Tate’s libido sky rocketed. His eternal teenage hormones spiking to a point that was unbearable. And it didn’t help now that you were living in the infamous ‘Murder House’, Tate’s obsession with you dark and lustrous like the red glow of the other-worldly planet.

You were out at a friend’s house tonight, Tate had overheard you asking your mom to go, and she obliged as usual. Needing you so desperately, he craved. Imagining your soft skin, biting it, tasting it’s warmth. Feeling it tingle through his cold, dead soul. The harmonic string of melodies that he could pull from your throat as he buries himself in your flesh, caressing it, pounding you. Even the way your tits rested under your shirt, your cleavage peaking sometimes and sending sparks through his body, or the view of your ass as you walked up the stairs, always making sure he followed behind you just to see it and hopefully a glimpse of your panties that day from under your skirt. The ghostly feeling of his imaginations traveling straight to his cock, twitching uncomfortably in his pants. He needed relief, and he needed it bad. If only you were there to help him, if only he knew you wanted to help him.

At first his mind muttered silent prayers that you wouldn’t somehow find him desperately rutting into your favorite pair of cotton panties, his hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as he used the soft fabric to create a strangely pleasurable friction, his pre-cum soaking them with the perfect amount of lube.

The sounds were obscene, yet muffled by the cloth. On the other hand, his moans were not. Shamelessly he whined, whimpering obscenely as he came closer and closer to the edge, using his fantasies of you as fuel as he fist fucked into your panties like a bunny in heat, but there was no final wave. No release, just the aching feeling of the weight of his hard cock, pounding. He was starting to get too desperate, his thoughts drowning as all he wanted anymore was for you to save him from this torment. He didn’t care if you hated him for it, he just needed your touch. Your comfort. To cum.

“Tate…?” A familar voice chirped curiously, the door creaking open.

Shit. He thought. You were back early.

He instantly sat up, hiding his proud cock with a nearby pillow resting on your bed. His face was beat red, his eyes watery and skin persperating with small beads of sweat. Pupils blown, his jaw slack as he stutters an excuse than hangs from the tip of his tongue, it’s clear what happened. Tate was ready for the scream, the insults, the anger, the disgust. But there was none, you surely looked surprised, but he couldn’t see any distain in your staring eyes.

“Why are you back? You weren’t supposed to be back yet!” He blurts out a little loudly, his voice trembling. He didn’t mean to be accusatory, you knew.

“I got bored and wanted to come home..” You reply slowly, taking invisble steps closer towards the bed.

“You know…what are you doing in my bed, Tate?” You ask, wanting to taunt him in his vulnerable state, see how far you can push him and make him melt even more into a puddle. He shivers as he begins to notice the growing warmth of your body leaning closer to his frozen position on your mattress. Hoping your eyes don’t look down at the conspicuous pillow, anxiety striking his heart as just in that moment you do. There’s something predatory in it that makes his spine shiver.

“N-Nothing. I just…missed you.” The words are forcefully calm and monotone, trying to sound casual. A dumb excuse he came up with spontaneously that you both knew didn’t work to hide anything.

“You missed me, huh?” You smile devilishly as you press a hand in the mattress next to him, his whole body lighting on fire, his breathing begins to labor with the pure lava of lust flowing to his dick. Your hand mere inches away from where he needed you most.

“Is that all?” He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from your hand to your gleaming eyes.

“I—uh.” He chokes on his words. “N-no..” He admits shamefully, his gaze tilting away.

“Do you want me to help you fix it?” You lean into his ear, whispering hotly against it which makes his face light up pinker, every hair on his body on end.

He swallows thickly again before nodding.

“Use your words, puppy.” You croon, pinching his chin between your fingers and gently forcing his glossy coffee eyes to look at you.

“P-Please.” He whines, causing your heart to squeeze a little.

“Good boy. Let mommy see.” You smile slyly, pulling away your hand as he lays back comfortably into the mattress, removing the pillow from over his length as you climb beside him. Kneeling over his legs.

“So naughty.” You tease as you pull away the sticky pair of panties wrapped around his shaft, precum beading thickly at his tip as he twitches from the touch or lack thereof.

His hips automatically jerk up, trying to reach your hand as you pull away the material. A small giggle slips past your lips that makes him whine into a bitten lip.

“Poor baby, all worked up, I won’t tease you any longer.” You coo, prodding a pad of your finger at the practically purple pillowy head.

He instantly lets out a muffled gutteral moan, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the pathetic sounds as you wrap your hand around him. Collecting the slick and coating his cock with it as you start a leisurly pace that slowly picks up, leading him to buck into your fist wildly.

“Let me hear you, puppy.” You say softly, watching between his perfect cock and his adorable face as he tries to hide the very obvious sounds bellowing from his throat. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.” Forcing a gutteral sound to spill from his lips as you press a finger into the sensitive head.

Your words make his heart and brain melt, the feeling of your hand on him being even better than he anticipated. He can feel himself getting closer, hips slamming at the same pace as your fist, pre-cum drooling over your hand as he moans pathetically. The sound of his voice getting thicker and more desperate, his muscles tensing.

“Cum for me, puppy. C’mon, let it all out.” You soothe, something clicks in his brain and he instantly busts, long and thick milky ropes shoot out, more than you thought was possible and drawing a long moan from his lips as his head pushed back into the pillow behind it. His thighs shuddered, toes curled until the ropes subsided and rested coated on your hand and his cock.

“Feel better?” You ask, slowly removing your hand as he comes down from the high.

Practically drunk on pleasure and blissed-out, he nods silently.

“Good. Next time, maybe just ask me first before jerking off into my panties.” You scold light-heartedly as you raise up the half-crusted fabric to the culprit’s gaze and he quickly hides his blushing face guiltily.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch

377 notes · View notes

dorotheataylor · 1 year ago

Text

Hugs and kisses

Pairing- Peter Parker x GN!Reader

Summary- Sometimes even the strongest ones need comfort and Peter finds it in your arms.

Warnings- none literally, this is just a soft fic coz peter deserves all the love and hugs in the world, my poor english is a warning tho :’)

Word Count- 687

A/N- I thought of this while listening to ‘Sweet Nothing’ by Taylor Swift and here it is. Also I changed fandoms lol. dw i still write for harry potter but i’ll write for marvel too now. And this can be read for any peter but I imagined tasm peter here :3 Hope y’all like this <3

You were about to get into bed, after having done your nighttime skincare and changing into your pyjamas, when you heard soft knocks on your window.

You went over to open it, knowing it was Peter. Whenever he visited you after his night patrols, it was always near this time. You would go on about your day while he told about his and then went to sleep together while snuggled close to each other.

Today it seemed a little different. Because when you moved the curtains to get a look at him, his expressions were different from what they always were. Like he was upset about something.

You quickly unlatched your window and let him inside. You turned to face him and furrowed your eyebrows when he didn’t meet your eyes.

Something was definitely up.

“Peter, love, is everything okay?” you said softly, not wanting him to break. “You know you can tell me anything,” you start, wanting to break the silence, but he flinches at your voice. you let out a shaky exhale and step forward, reaching a hand up, slowly, like approaching a skittish animal, to press your palm to his cheek. he unconsciously chases the warmth, his hair parting to reveal his eyes, sadder than you’ve ever seen them. your heart lurches for him. “oh, Peter.”

He leaned in your touch and sighed in content. Slowly you lifted your other hand to cup both his cheeks while he looked on the verge of tears.

“I- I just needed to see you. He- he said that,” Peter couldn’t even bring himself to properly say that. After that random bad guy he had just fought told him he had attacked you, he needed to make sure you were okay.

“It’s okay, Peter. I’m here.” You said, voice still soft as you start to caress his cheek with your thumb.

Peter couldn’t keep it in anymore, as he immediately buried his face in your neck and held you tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop your heart from breaking after seeing him in such a state. The way he sounded, the way you could feel his tears on your neck, you couldn’t help but shed some tears as well as you spoke soothing words to him.

Moments like these brought comfort to Peter. Him in your arms, you holding him tightly, speaking softly and trying to comfort him, he sometimes wonders what he has done to deserve this, to deserve you. Your arms were his go to place when things got hard, being spiderman wasn’t easy. And it felt great that you out of all people knew about him and still loved the real him.

Both of you stayed in each other’s arms for what felt like an eternity, with none of you wanting to let go of each other. But you didn’t mind it, Peter deserved all your love and affection.

After few moments, you slowly spoke, breaking the comfortable silence you both were in, “lets get you changed so that we can cuddle in bed. Sounds good?”

He seemed hesitant to let you go, but he loosened his grip and pulled away to look you in the eye, arms still loosely wound around your waist. He seemed almost meek like this—to the point it almost felt like you’re not looking at the strongest. Right now, it kinda just feels like you’re looking at a man—a man who has the entire weight of the New York on his shoulders.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said, his voice still wavering. “You- You’re everything. God I love you so much.”

You smiled gently at him as you cupped his cheek again, he kissed your palm, and you said, “I love you too, Peter. More than words can express.”

With that, Peter cupped your face and brought his lips onto yours, pouring all his love, affection, fears and everything he felt for you into it. You kissed him back with same passion, sealing a promise of never leaving him into this kiss.

Because maybe in that moment, this was all you both needed.

#marvel #peter parker #love #taylor swift #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader fluff #marvel comfort #comfort fic #sweet nothing #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fluff #peter parker fluff #fluff #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x y/n

306 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

pairing: jack daniels x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2.5k

summary: jack comes back home only to find you in a compromising position.

warnings: established relationship, female masturbation, getting caught, nipple play, pet names (darling, sweet/good girl, sweetheart), no y/n, bondage (i have dreams about that whip, i had to), edging, piv, come eating, some hurt/comfort vibes towards the end

additional warning: alright since I know not everyone can do this physically I'll just say it here just in case; reader does suck her own breast before jack catches her but there are no physical descriptions other than that, enjoy xx

a/n: this ended up being more filthier than I thought please don't look at me, my period is close

**divider by @firefly-graphics 💗

God, you missed him.

You missed the feel of his rough hands coursing down your skin. His soft plush lips going hungrily down your neck. His words laced with something dark and sweet whispered into your ears over and over again.

Jack has been gone for just a week and from what he’d told you, he might be gone for another week. You’ve been counting the days, waiting for the phone to call every night at 7 pm. He could hear the need in your voice, the ache. Jack had a sinful mouth. A mouth that could make the devil itself blush. Dolly enough you felt the tremors of hic vocal cord even more through the speakers, his hushed tone urging you to move your fingers faster, to bury them into the sweet pussy that he was missing around his cock.

You shiver at the thought of it.

You aren’t proud of your position right now. Your legs bare and spread, fingers drawing slow circles as you lift a breast to your mouth, ignoring the crick in your neck you suck. Your nipple hardens between the gentle bite of your teeth, a moan seeping into the flesh with the flick of your tongue. It shouldn’t feel this good. Despite being alone you feel embarrassed. How can you not? But in your defense, as you do it, you only think of him. His mouth, his tongue, his lips. You release the tight grip of your lips and flatten your tongue against the peak, your hot breath catches against the spit-slick skin, a whimper echoes from the back of your throat.

The familiar heat of your orgasm starts to build, it’s a slow climb, one that makes you raise your hips off the bed to meet the tantalizing brush of your fingers. Your eyes flutter closed and you drag your tongue around your nipple, gently biting into it.

“Jack,” you breathe out, unfiltered. “God, Jack, it feels so good.”

You don’t hear the door, you don’t hear the familiar steps nearing the bedroom.

You don’t hear him.

“What’re you doin’?”

You freeze. Your building orgasm dies between your legs, your fingers hovering helplessly above your throbbing clit. Your body screams, muscles grow taut and uncomfortable. Gently, you rock your hips forward and hope he doesn’t notice. Your eyes might be wide but you’re not looking at him. You can’t. His gaze is like hot iron pressed against your already burning skin. Your lungs shake.

You swallow, your answer comes out broken, “Nothing.”

“Really? Nothin’?” he steps closer, head cocked to the side. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, one that makes you squeamish. “Seems like to me you have a tit in your mouth darlin’. I wouldn’t exactly call that nothin’.”

“I—” You pull your hands away and draw your knees up to your chest. His eyes drop to your burning core, hunger dilating his pupils. “I missed you,” you mutter, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, I can see that.”

The bed dips under his weight, two fingers curl under your chin, and pull your gaze away from the spot on the wall. Your lips part when you meet his gaze, your body warming and melting like ice cream left under a summer shadow. His smile is crooked, his eyes growing soft the longer they stay on you.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he says. “That’s why I’m home early. But really, you should’ve just called me sweetheart, I would’ve loved to help you out. You know that.”

He removes his hat, exposing a messy mop of dark hair that curls right above his ears. A smile touches your lips. “I know that, it kinda happened spontaneously.”

Jack cups the underside of the breast that was still wet from your tongue. He slightly lifts it, weighing it under his palm.

“I liked you callin’ out to me. Definitely helps the ego.”

You don’t answer, only watch with a hungry gaze of your own. His eyes are fixed on the rise and fall of your chest, sliding his hand up, he swipes a thumb over the sensitive peak.

Heat drips down your spine, gathers at your tailbone, and warms you from the inside out. Your lips are pressed together when he pinches, your moan caught against your teeth. His grin is wicked, devilish.

“I wanna play with you, sweetheart,” his grin widens when your breath catches in your throat. He leans forward, lips only an inch away, breath hot across your skin. “Will you be good for me?”

Your sense of time and space has been completely destroyed by the man underneath you, his hips pressed snug against your own, lips latched on your collarbone. He sucks and bites, pulling you apart with nothing but his mouth. You want to touch him—Oh, how your body aches for it. To wrap your hands around his thick cock and pump him until strings of come drip down your knuckles.

But you can’t.

You fucking can’t.

The leather of the whip digs painfully into your wrists, your skin feeling raw and open. Every time he forces your hips into an agonizingly slow grind, the thick handle hits the soft curve of your ass with every move. And the most painful part, the part that makes you wetter than you’ve ever been—he’s not inside of you. His cock drags between your soaked folds, bulbous head catching your clit every time. A generous amount of precum is gathered at the soft swell of his stomach, trickling down to the sheets. He must be painfully hard at this point but he’s still going. He feasts upon your chest, tongue swirling and pressing hard against your nipple while his hand kneads the flesh from underneath.

It’s too much. Your head spins, a desperate sound twisting through you. His chuckle vibrates through your skin and he slides a hand up the back of your neck, fingers curling.

You’re shaking now. Trembling. Burning.

He kisses along your collarbone, wet lips leaving shiny streaks, his voice all gravel. “You know,” he purrs. “When I saw you like that, the desperation you had for me. . .” he cuts off, pressing his lips to yours and licking himself deep into your mouth before continuing. “I wanted to fuck you right that second, darlin’. Nearly lost all control. You drive me insane.”

“The feelings mutual,” you gasp, grinding down on him. His thighs tighten underneath you, a groan leaving his lips. “So why don’t you just fuck me. Please, Jack, I need you.”

“You need me, hm?” he smooths your hair, kisses your cheek. It’s incredibly tender compared to the tight grip his whip has on your wrists. Your back arches instinctively, pushing more of yourself into his hands. “I could keep you like this for hours. Just like this, writhing on my lap, beggin’ for me, achin’ for me. I’m very tempted you know? I did say I wanted to play.”

A whimper scratches your throat. Your head drops to his shoulder and you find solace in the crook of his neck. His scent fills your lungs, gunpowder, leather, and the earth itself. Safe. So safe. You kiss him, drag your lips across the tender skin, leaving goosebumps. His hands move to your arms that are tied behind, his nails skimming down until fingers curl around the knot of the whip.

“We can play,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I just want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he answers quickly. You can almost hear the frown in his voice. “Of course you do. You’re my sweet girl, you always make me happy.”

Jack’s fingers start working the knot, you quickly pull back, “Don’t remove it,” you blurt out. His brows raise with amusement, a toothy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Cheeks burning you look away, “I want you to fuck me like this,” you utter with a jutted bottom lip.

“God, I need to be inside you,” he drawls, accent thick, and everything in you grows taut. “Been jerking myself almost every night thinkin’ about this sweet pussy.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he smirks, helping you raise to your knees. “You’re not the only one with a vivid imagination.”

Jack positions his length against you, his fingers biting into your waist, watching the slow fall of your hips. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting painfully. You’re quick to move, dragging your nose down his, you lick at his mouth and urge him to release the abused flesh. He does so with a breathy moan, hips stuttering deeper into you as you suck it between your own lips, easing the pain of his bite.

He takes your neck in his hands, thumbs caressing over the sensitive skin of your throat. His touch grows more insistent as he continues to trace circles and feathery touches up your jaw and around your ear and back down again. You hear him groan, deep and low, sending thrills through your body.

Jack shifts his hips up into you, pushing himself closer to the entrance of your heat. He traces the curves of your body, pressing against you with every inviting motion. You can feel every inch of him pressing firmly inside of you. You groan at the stretch, you’ll never get sick of this. Never get sick of the feeling of being so full. He hooks a finger into one of the loops of the whip and pulls you down, hips flush against his. Your lungs convulse, breath hitching, pleasure burning you from the inside out. Your lips drop open and he shoves his tongue inside, ravaging your mouth and swallowing your cries.

He guides the jump of your hips, snapping his hips at the same time you drop yours. Tears blur your vision, overwhelmed. Jack’s gaze is fixed on where you two connect, watching his cock disappear into the tight fist of your cunt. His movements grow harder and more aggressive, pushing you to your limits. His breath tangles with yours, his hands alternately caressing and holding tight to your wrists while his hips rotate into you. The room is filled with the sounds of rugged breaths.

“Atta girl. That’s it, feels good don’t it?”

“So good,” you say hoarsely, rolling your hips. “Don’t stop.”

Jack fully laughs at that, it’s boisterous and loud, a small smile of your own makes its way to your lips. You would’ve laughed too if it wasn’t for his cock sliding in and out of you, a shudder rolls down your spine. He quiets down, eyes gazing deep into your own.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, voice dropping into something dangerous. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He moves inside you, pushing himself faster and deeper. His thrusts become more powerful, almost urgent as he works to take you to the brink of ecstasy. His hands reach for your wrists, tightening their embrace and pinning you down to him, hammering up into you. All your focus narrows on the feeling of him. Heat builds between your thighs, cock drilling into you without hesitation.

Finally, as the intensity builds to its peak, Jack's thrusts become almost frantic, and with each movement, waves of pleasure ripple through your body, leaving you gasping for breath. You’re both lost in each other.

Your moans become louder and higher pitched as he drives himself ever deeper into you. You feel his velvety hardness pulsing inside of you, his hands grasping tightly—and he breaks you.

Your entire body jerks, every fiber of your being coming to a sudden halt only to come back alive again. You think you cry out his name but your mouth is dry, your throat sore. He hisses at the way you squeeze him tight, your walls pulsing and gushing around him. You press your nails into your palms and a moment later Jack forces your hands open, the sharp ends finding purchase above his hands instead.

“That’s it,” he sings his praise. “I got you, sweetheart, you feel so good, so fuckin’ good.”

Jack withdraws slightly, still deeply embedded within you, before gently pushing you back down on the mattress. Your shoulders ache at the pressure yet you welcome it, pleasure still heavy in your veins.

“I wanna come over your tits, darlin’,” he nips at your chin. “Is that okay?”

With a moan, you nod. You manage to push yourself up, capturing his lips in a quick kiss before you fall back down again. He smiles down at you, eyes shining.

Your eyes grow wide at the sight of him, strong body straddling your stomach, his flushed cock in his fist. He strokes himself, thumb swiping the slit as he pushes the head against the swell. Jack groans at the added pressure, gently rocking his hips. Slick trickles down from your core, forcing a shudder up your spine. Jack’s breathing goes ragged, eyes finding yours as his chin drops with a moan rattling his chest.

He spills himself between your breasts, he grinds helplessly against them, cock twitching and throbbing as his come lands on your chest, throat, and chin. Your tongue slips from between your lips by instinct, sadly you can’t reach the traces of him.

“Fuck,” he rasps, deftly bending over. He leaves you short of breath as he cleans you up with his mouth, licking himself clean off your skin. “Come here,” he utters, holding you by the shoulders and pressing your mouths together. He slips his tongue between your lips along with the remnants of himself. You groan at the taste. Bittersweet. Filthy. You swallow him down, tongue searching for more. “Greedy little thing,” he mutters between breaths.

His kiss lingers for a moment until finally, he pulls away and smiles. Then, once again, your surroundings shift. You find yourself buried in his chest, your arms and legs angled awkwardly.

“Let me get you out of this,” he says, untying you. “And then let’s shower, put some ointment over these marks.”

You hear a hint of remorse at the end, brows furrowing, you cradle his face between your sweaty palms. With smushed cheeks, he gives you a confused look.

“I wanted this, Jack,” you say clearly. “Don’t feel bad.”

“I don’t,” he grunts. When you give him a look he relents. “I don’t, really,” he tenderly touches your wrists and gathers your hands between his own. “I enjoy it but I can’t help feelin’ a bit bad. It just happens.”

“Come’re.”

You pull him into a tight embrace, ignoring the soreness of limbs and burns. Jack buries his nose in your neck and inhales you, deep breaths raising goose bumps over your skin. Your fingers snake into his hair and you gently scratch his scalp, he hums, laying a kiss on your shoulder.

“You take plenty of care of me. Just know that, okay?” his arms tighten around you. “Feel what you’re feeling but just now that I’m happy and satisfied.”

“Okay,” he swallows, pulling away from you. “Now let’s get cleaned.”

By the time you both climb into the bath, you’re both smiling, giggling (more so you rather than Jack), and briefing each other about all the things that happened while Jack was away.

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #kingsmen golden circle #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

437 notes · View notes

thenanbakacorner · 7 months ago

Note

Can you write an Elf one-shot with a fem reader who gets cloying with him after watching a movie where one of the protagonists dies because he is afraid of losing him please? I just want that madman to get soft and shut up for a few minutes.

Absolutely! I want that too haha

(⚠️Light TW for mention of death and description of how a character dies⚠️)

* * *

🔪What's the Matter, Dearest? - Elf x Cloying Fem Reader Scenario🔪

While waiting for Elf to come back from work, you were sat on the couch, watching a movie. It was quite the nail-biter, leaving you on the edge the whole time.

However, what you hadn't expected in the slightest was for one of the protagonists to get shot, more less practically pelted with lead, and killed. It was quite graphic, and it had you yelping in shock at the fact that one of the main characters, let alone one that you had gotten attached to, was offed.

You had to pause the movie not even a few minutes after the scene thanks to your mind wandering to the possibility of your beloved boyfriend, Elf, getting killed in a similar way thanks to his dangerous work.

You couldn't bare to see that happen to him. The thought terrified you.

Then came the fear of if he wouldn't return from work this very day. After all, it's a bit past nine. He should've been home already! Oh god, what if he's hurt? Or worse?!

You ended up pacing the living room as your mind darkened with these worries, until the sound of the lock clicking broke you out of your scared trance.

When Elf appeared in the doorway, lifting a hand up in exaggerated greeting with a cheery "Oh honeyyy! I'm homeee~!", it felt like a thousand pounds worth of weight was lifted off your shoulders.

"Elf!!"

You chirped in a more heightened voice than you intended, running up to and grabbing onto him, nuzzling your face into his chest.

"Oh!" Elf exclaimed, a bit stunned by how seemingly excited you were that he was back. Sure, you were always excited to see him come home from work, but this was.. different. "What's the matter, dearest? Missed me?"

You simply nodded your head as you kept your face buried against his shirt, letting out a tiny noise reminiscent of a whimper as you did. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, leaned down, and placed a little peck of a kiss on the center of your head.

"How cute.~" He cooed, nuzzling his own nose against your hair. "Wanna take this to the couch, baby?" He gently questioned, and you nodded a bit more eagerly than you meant to.

Shortly after, the two of you found yourselves laying together on the plush fabric of the couch, legs tangled and arms wrapped around one another. Your face was now resting in the crook of his neck, holding onto your man as if he'd disappear.

Elf's eyes were closed as he rested them, which was much needed after a long day. He was content, comfortable, as you clung to him, although he did mentally note that you were being a bit more lovey than normal.

Eventually, you spoke up.

"Elf, honey.."

"Mmm?"

"Promise me something?"

He opened an eye and glanced down at you expectantly with a hum of question.

"Promise me you'll be careful? I can't stand the thought of losing you.."

You nuzzled deeper against him to further express your worry, and the ticklish sensation of your breath on his skin made him shiver a little bit, before he turned to fully look at you with a soft expression.

"Oh, baby.. is that why you were so anxious to meet me after work?"

The only reply you could manage was a little whine, and Elf was quick to startle at the sight of tears in the corner of your eyes. He moved to sit up with you, using his thumbs to wipe your eyes dry.

"There, there, little one.. I'll be careful. I promise."

You sniffled and moved in to hug him tight, nuzzling against him once more. He returned the gesture and peppered your head with little kisses, whispering sweet nothings to you of comfort and reassurance. You sighed, finally allowing a smile to come to your face, feeling safe and comforted in your lover's embrace.

#nanbaka #canarical nanbaka #nanbaka imagines #nanbaka x reader #elf nanbaka x reader #elf nanbaka #nanbaka elf #elf x reader #elf #nanbaka scenarios #scenarios

65 notes · View notes

kodathings · 8 months ago

Text

𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Ning Yizhuo x gn!reader

No warnings, i think

Gender: Angst but still cute

When Ningning entered your apartment you felt the pressure and weight she carried with her. You immediately noticed his sunken eyes, slumped shoulders, but the moment she saw you, a small smile appeared on her face.

"I missed you" She whispers softly, finding peace in the warmth of her arms wrapped around the girl's tense body "I'm glad you're here."

With a gentle touch, you rub her shoulders with the intention of relaxing her "And why wouldn't I be here?". A soft murmur escapes Ning 'I don't know' sighing when she feels your fingers in her hair.

A smile decorates your face and you pull away a little to try to look into her eyes, but she stops you when you try "No, don't leave" she explores softly, her fingers grip his shirt.

"what's wrong? I'm not going anywhere" you went back to being close to her even though it wasn't the best position to stay in for a few minutes. Your girlfriend still seemed tense and nervous about something which made you worried, but you know that if you asked it would be worse.

"You know...no one can carry their own problems alone" You began, your voice as soft as possible and your tender touch on her hair and tense back "We always need to vent to someone when something affects us...someone we trust" Two backs are the first to shake as she begins to sob softly as she lets her frustrations go.

You never imagined your girlfriend could be so strong, fear instilled by the way she looks "don't keep it to yourself, Ning" his whispers were more than enough to make her collapse into his arms "I'm so scared they'll find you out..." Then that's it.

So many have been happening in the world of idols that affect not only those who are being discovered by force, but those who have not yet been discovered, including Ningning.You can't send it because it would be horrible for everyone to find out without any of you having consent.

"I'm so afraid that they'll hurt you...that we'll break up" Her grip tightens, not letting you go like she said. Ning Yizhuo needs you, she needs comfort, she needs love, she needs rest, and you need to protect her.

You have so many words formed but it's like a spell that won't let you say any of them. Telling her that 'everything will be fine' or 'nothing bad can happen' wouldn't be enough to remove the darkness of bad thoughts from her head.

"I'm not going to lie to you, anything can happen in the future and we don't know if it can be good. But I guarantee you that if something happens I will always stay with you no matter what they do..." You stopped and held her face to make those tearful eyes look at you "...I will always be with you even far away. I love you with every word"

She agrees, her eyes saying more than words, much more than words. Her throat was dry from tears, dry sobs coming from the poor crazy girl with problems that haven't even arrived and won't arrive. So hard to look at her like that. You hug Ning tighter, making her head bury in the crook of her neck as comfort.

"I love you, Ning Yizhuo, and there will be no news that will separate me from you" Kisses were placed on her hair with affection and care as if it could break with anything simple "I will always love you, always".

She can't answer you with how touchy she feels right now and you know, you know every feeling, every word she wants to say but can't. It's too much pressure that prevents, so much that she keeps it stuck in her throat and absorbs it for herself. Ning can only hold you close and shed tears, enough tears for you to read her like a storybook.

She loves you, you know, you feel.

#ningning x reader #aespa fanfic #ningning aespa #ning yizhuo x reader #aespa #ningning #ning yizhuo #aespa x reader

46 notes · View notes

lorkai · 6 months ago

Text

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I, uh, don't even know how to explain this. My fingers just started typing the more I was thinking about Cater and his trauma.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Angst, hurt / no comfort, gn!reader.

Cater Diamond wore his smile like a knight wears his armor. To the world, he was always cheerful, always ready with a joke or a charming comment, he was the start in the spotilight. It was what people expected from him, after all - someone always expected something from him, first was his sisters, then his friends that he long forgot the names and faces, later his followers.

He was the carefree Cater who could lighten any room, the perfect friend, the flawless entertainer. But beneath that practiced smile and lines, a gnawing emptiness grew, a void he couldn't escape.

He had tried to fill it with countless things — hobbies and pleasant conversations, and most of all: social media. For a while, it worked. It made sense, made him feel like he belonged somewhere. The likes, the comments, the adoration from fans gave him a momentary high, a brief illusion of being seen and valued.

But the rush never lasted. Nothing ever lasted. Day blend together, minutes turn into hours and he is still stagnated on the same spot, unmoving, an actor left behind on the stage.

The second the screen went dark, the emptiness crept back in, colder and more consuming than before. So suffocating.

You were different, though. When you looked at him, you really looked at him, it was like you saw through all the layers he had built up around himself, saw the mask's strings that attached itself on his flesh. Your eyes searched for something real, something beyond the mask. It scared him, that look. It made him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn't been in a long time. He tried to push that feeling away, bury it beneath more jokes and casual touches, but it lingered, always there, just beneath the surface.

And he didn't know what to do. What to say. He was so used to indifference, he was used to the void on his chest.

And so, he ran away from that problem. From you.

"Cater, you can talk to me," You had said one night, your voice soft, filled with a genuine concern that twisted something deep inside him. He wanted to believe you, to open up and let you in. But the thought of it terrified him. What if you saw the real him and decided he wasn't worth it? What if you turned away, disgusted by the broken, hollow person beneath the mask?

So he kept up the act, even when it hurt. He told you it was nothing, that he was just tired, busy, whatever excuse he could think of to keep you from prying too deep. Each lie felt like a shard of glass lodged in his throat, but he swallowed them down, smiling all the while.

The more you tried to reach him, the more he pulled away. He couldn't bear the thought of you seeing through the cracks, of you realizing that everything he was, everything he did, was just a performance. He started responding to your messages less, making excuses to avoid seeing you. It was easier that way, to distance himself, to keep you from getting too close, even when his vision was blurry and he didn't know why.

But the void didn't go away. It only grew, gnawing at him from the inside, leaving him feeling emptier with each passing day. He hated himself for it, for pushing you away, for not being able to be the person you thought he was. The guilt and shame ate at him, making the void even deeper and dangerous.

When he finally sent that message — "Sorry, been busy. Let's take a break, okay?"— it felt like the final nail in the coffin. He knew he was hurting you and your feelings profoundly, that you deserved so much better than the hollow shell he had become. But he couldn't stop himself.

He couldn't bear the thought of dragging you down into his darkness, of letting you see just how broken he really was.

As he stared at his phone, the words blurring together, he felt the weight of his own facade crashing down around him. The truth was, he didn't know how to be real anymore. He had worn the mask for so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to be genuine, to let someone in.

Cater Diamond was a performer, and in the end, even he couldn't tell where the performance ended and the real him began. So he let you go, knowing it was the only way to protect you from the void that had consumed him. As the silence settled in, the emptiness felt more suffocating than ever, but he told himself it was for the best.

And yet, even as he tried to convince himself, the ache in his chest grew, a constant reminder of what he had lost. He had pushed away the one person who had seen him, truly seen him, and now all he had left was the cold, unyielding void. In the end, Cater Diamond was left with nothing but the echoes of his own hollow laughter and the bitter taste of regret.

#twst #twisted wonderland #cater x reader #cater x mc #cater x yuu #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond x yuu #cater diamond x mc #twst cater #twst cater diamond #twisted wonderland cater #twisted wonderland cater diamond #cater x y/n #cater x you #cater diamond x y/n #cater diamond x you #lorkai imagine

40 notes · View notes

atinyslittleworld · 3 months ago

Text

The Void Series

Summary: After being ghosted by her boyfriend, Y/N seeks comfort from her best friend Yeosang.

Word Count: 840

Genre: angst, comfort, slice of life, friends-to-lovers (implied)

Warnings: emotional distress, ghosting

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, her phone lying uselessly next to her. She stared at the screen, willing a message, a call, anything—but there was nothing. The silence was deafening, a void that seemed to echo every doubt she had about herself.

A month. They had been dating for a month. And after they finally took that next step, after she had trusted him completely, he just… disappeared. No explanation, no apology, just vanished from her life like a ghost. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she could have done wrong. Was she not good enough? Did she do something to scare him away? The more she thought about it, the deeper she spiraled into self-doubt.

Before she realized it, she had grabbed her keys and left her apartment, making her way to the one place she knew she could find comfort—Yeosang’s home.

Yeosang had been her best friend for years. He was the one who always knew how to make her smile, who would listen to her ramble on about anything and everything, and who had this uncanny ability to make her feel safe, no matter what. But tonight, she wasn’t sure even he could help her piece herself back together.

When he opened the door and saw her standing there, tears streaming down her face, his heart clenched. Without a word, he pulled her inside, his arms wrapping around her in a protective embrace. She buried her face in his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt.

“What happened?” he asked softly, leading her to the couch and sitting her down gently. She shook her head, unable to speak, the words caught in her throat. Yeosang waited patiently, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back until she finally found her voice.

“He ghosted me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “After everything, he just… left. Like I didn’t mean anything.”

Yeosang’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching in anger. He had always been protective of Y/N, and the thought of someone hurting her like this made his blood boil. “That asshole,” he muttered under his breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. He’s the one who’s messed up.”

But Y/N shook her head again, her self-doubt rearing its ugly head. “But what if I did? What if I wasn’t enough? What if—”

“No.” Yeosang’s voice was firm, more intense than she had ever heard it. He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You are incredible, Y/N. If he can’t see that, then he’s just a jerk. He’s the one who isn’t enough.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, surprised by the fierceness in his voice. She had always known Yeosang cared about her, but this was different. His words, his intensity—it was like he was seeing her in a way she had never seen herself.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Yeosang continued, his voice softer now but no less sincere. “Inside and out. And if I ever see that guy again, I swear I’ll break his face for what he’s done to you.”

His words sent a jolt through Y/N, her heart pounding in her chest. She had always felt safe with Yeosang, but now there was something else, something deeper, something that had been there all along but was only now coming to the surface.

Yeosang’s face was inches from hers now, his eyes locked on hers, filled with a mix of anger and something else—something she couldn’t quite place. She could feel his breath on her lips, warm and soft, and the proximity made her heart race. She could almost feel the tension in the air, thick and charged with emotions neither of them had spoken aloud.

But Y/N didn’t move any closer. Instead, she let out a shaky breath, the weight of the moment settling over them both. She blinked, trying to clear the tears that had gathered in her eyes once more.

Yeosang’s expression softened as he saw the turmoil in her eyes. He gently placed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. It was a comforting gesture, intimate in its own way, and it grounded her in the here and now.

“You’re not alone,” Yeosang whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “You’ll never be alone as long as I’m here.”

Y/N closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She didn’t feel broken anymore, not when he was here with her. For the first time that night, she felt a flicker of hope, a reminder that she was worth more than the doubts that plagued her.

“Thank you,” she whispered back, her voice fragile but sincere.

Yeosang pulled back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek to wipe away the last remnants of her tears. He smiled, a small, genuine smile that made her heart flutter.

“Anytime,” he replied, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Always.”

#ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez #kang yeosang #kang yeosang imagines #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang imagines #yeosang x reader #yeosang

38 notes · View notes

happysparklingshadows · 1 year ago

Text

𝚅𝚊𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚎𝚛 + 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 (’96)

Warnings: Gore, Smut, Melodramatic fights, mentions of a mommy kink, and mature themes.

Note: Vanessa Palmer is my wife and my favorite yellowjacket! I just want her to be mine in so many ways lol! I hope you all like it! @zhivaxo @g1rlsriot

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Van is very affectionate in her love for you. She loves to hold your hand, puts her hand on the small of your back, links pinkies, maps shapes on your arms and back, she fixes your hair just to touch the soft strands. Her hands are always on you. She kisses you whenever possible and just wants to be there with you. Because Van is autistic (our collective headcannon), she gets into things so much and can’t help it. She gets rough in sex without meaning to or realizing it, you can sometimes hear her overthink when she touches you, and she doesn’t do anything. She freaks out when your feet or her feet touch each other, and she doesn’t like the feeling of cuddling when she falls asleep. She will cuddle you but turn away when she goes to bed because it’s not how you fall asleep. I also think some bonding time with her would be watching new shows and sharing media to talk about. Funny enough, sometimes you fight about characters more than actual relationship stuff.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get regarding their darling?

Van will do anything for you. She is very aggressive and feral out in the woods. Think of Shauna’s postpartum hallucination where they eat her baby and van SNARLS! Van is very loving and gives off overthinking golden retriever energy, but Van is very in touch with her animalistic part to her. Pre-crash, I think they would go into fights for you, but nothing bloody. She would do anything for you after the first winter in the wilderness. She will hunt whoever, she will kill whoever threatens you, and she is willing to be hunted if it means you would be fed. The thought of being inside of you forever comforted Van.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Van would never abduct you. The worst they would do is trap you in a room with them by standing at the door and stopping you from leaving in a fight or something. Van would not mock you at all, she hates condescension so much because of her mother, so she just tries to calm you down to talk about whatever is starting the fight. She can’t handle you being mad at her and can’t stand you being away from her.

“Fuck off, Van!”

“No! You’re not leaving before we talk about it!”

“I don’t want to talk about it-”

“WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE THIS ISN'T US!” She screams at you with tears in her eyes. She moves her weight from foot to foot and waves her hands frustratedly. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to be away from you right now! I can’t do this-” You sob as you try, and she stops you again. You groan in frustration and let out a whine of annoyance in your angry sadness at the stupid fight over nothing.

“NO! (Y/n) Stop. Please. Please.” Van begs in her cries, she wraps her arms around you, and she hugs you with dear life. She doesn’t have any support anywhere. Her parents are shit, and her friends don’t know about her being gay in a homophobic town; she only has you as her light. You bury your face in her neck and cry; you are overwhelmed and tired. You let Vanessa win.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Van wants to be good to you and loves you as best she can, but sometimes what is good for you isn’t what you want. That is okay. Van is willing to ensure you are in order behind the scenes. Van will take people out of your life for you, and if they are a problem, she has no problem getting in trouble for punching the shit out of them. If Vanessa feels like a friend is getting too close or someone is taking her away, she will beat them to a bloody pulp, tells them to never speak to her again, and says that she will do worse if they rat. In the wilderness, she will just evolve, and she will make a co-dependent relationship with you to the point there are no threats out there in the woods outside of you getting picked for the hunt. Funny enough, Van was more relaxed in some ways because of the wilderness and trusting the girls she was with not to take you; so much more energy she has now because she doesn’t helicopter you 24/7 with 90s tech.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Vanessa is very bare and vulnerable with her lover. She doesn’t have much of a filter once you are inside her walls. She hasn’t had many inside of there and the ones who have hurt her deeply. Wine stains and cigarette burns from her parents and whispers from girls behind her in classes about how she is “dykey, right? No boys ever ask her out, and she never tries with them.” And you are the first to hold and nurture her without any motives outside of wanting to love yourself. Dating Pre-crash, she tells you all her thoughts about shows she masked all day and her special interests; she tells you about her mom and her emotions. She does have problems crying infront of others and being seen by others.

In the wilderness, Van vents her frustrations and gossip with you. Lowkey Van is a quiet bully with you about other people. It’s fun because Van would die if someone ever heard her and felt horrible about it. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings because that was a line in the sand. Like beating someone up or hunting is one thing, but messing with emotions is horrible. Van cries to you at night, crying because she misses her shitty mom and shitty dad and her shitty house. She hides her face in your breasts and cries as you pet her hair. She needs extra love because she is still very soft despite having a rough upbringing.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Van would shut down and hide away. She doesn’t want to push you away further by reacting, and she has disassociation as her trauma response, and she just leaves her body for a long time. Van just gives herself space, and that gives you space. She doesn’t like being away from you, but sometimes, tensions grow from being around too much in a relationship.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No. Van doesn’t play games with her heart or with you because this is fucking real. This is the most healthy and comforting relationship Van has ever had, and she will not let you go without a fight. She would let you go if you broke up with her, but she would try to win you back. She gives you space even if it kills her. She will win you back.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

I feel like with Van, and the worst things would be typical screaming fights when you are young adults and figuring things out.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Vanessa incisions you two getting married, living in New York by central park, and having some kids. Vanessa has a more traditional idea about what she wants out of romance and you. She takes things very seriously under the surface. Van in the wilderness thinks about rings she will get for you when you are saved, she knows she will never want anyone else, and she knows she will make sure you will want anyone else. She wants to claim you in the ways she was raised with. Van thinks getting married is a fuck you to Republicans who would meltdown at the thought of two women marrying.

Van lays on her side beside you in the cabin’s attic, it’s cold, but Van is enough for you as you both try to fall asleep. Van’s jade eyes watch your face as you try to go to sleep, and she blurts out, “Will you marry me?”

You’re eyes pop open, and you look at her in surprise. Two women getting married was insane in normal 1996 America, a world you wished to be a part of again, but these could happen inside the wilderness that traps you. “Van, we can’t get married.”

“Yes, we can.” She said back, determined as she cupped your cheek, looking deeper into your eyes. “I want you to be my wife.”

“Van, I would love to be your wife, but we can’t get married in Jersey! We must move to San Francisco or Hawaii to get married.”

“Then, we’ll move to Hawaii, Care Bear.” She says to you as she cuddles into your chest. She closes her eyes and breathes in your scent. “I love you, and I only want you.”

You’re eyes well with tears as you happily cuddled her back and said, “I will marry you. I will do anything for you, Vanessa. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

She gets jealous but is very good at masking her feelings enough to bite her tongue. Don’t get me wrong, if someone was hitting you or making you uncomfortable, and she would not hesitate to confront them. Vanessa primarily manifests her jealousy in the dirty whispers and vice grip on you when you two are alone.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Van is a supportive and goofy girlfriend who wears her heart on her sleeve. She is very much a golden retriever girlfriend and just wants to make you happy. She spends time with you as much as she can and always has a hand on you; she likes to praise you when you do good things! She is possessive and vocally says intense things sometimes, but overall a wonderful girlfriend. 10/10

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Van would be somewhat shy, and she would follow you around almost like a puppy. She approaches you in a way that seems like she just wants to befriend you, but quickly, things would become sexual and romantic. She doesn’t know anything about you or why there is this pull for her to get you. Becoming a couple would take a few weeks of being friends.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from how they act around everyone else?

Somewhat. Van has had to meet the more primal parts of herself and the selfish inner human instincts we all thought could be fought with logic and morals. Van is very aggressive and Territorial. She is a murderer but does it all because she was pushed to that point. I think Van is masking her Yandere behaviors very well to the point you couldn’t tell, but it’s more open afterward. And you kind of like that in the brutal wilderness.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Van isn’t someone in the relationship to punish anyone because she doesn’t like to punish. When Van is unhappy with you, she shows it clearly on her face but just tries to ignore her anger with you. She doesn’t like feeling this way. She gives cold shoulder and snippy comments that she doesn’t even mean to say. The worst punishment would be getting into a screaming fight together like an average couple.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Only a few. Vanessa would give you standard monogamous rules and doesn’t like you giving other people attention in a way that seems like the attention you give her.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Van is very patient because of how her mother was all her childhood. She doesn’t mind things others can’t stand, and she has had to tolerate worse than an 18-year-old girl expressing emotions.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Van would straight up never move on and would even give up. Simply a shell and doesn’t have the will to live on when the sun goes away. Everything is dark with her only light, especially in the isolated woods where Van is trapped without you. Van would become Shauna in the show, tbh.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Van wouldn’t ever abduct you, but she has no regrets about the bloodshed she spilled for you. Never. Van would let you break up and get back with her because she knows she will always win you back somehow.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Childhood. This need for someone to validate and love her comes from her distance and abusive relationship with her alcoholic mother. She always felt like she would never be good enough and never be loved because if her mother didn’t care, how could anyone? When Van first feels the safety and warmth of your arms and love, she never wants to let you go. She is paranoid and scared at times people will steal her away or she will grow to not love her.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Van comforts you and tries her fucking best, man. Van doesn’t mind being a shoulder to cry on for you. She doesn’t mind being a punching bag when you scream and doesn’t mind giving you space if she can see you. Isolating in the wilderness, Van is so chill. Isolating pre-crash, Van is so not chill.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic Yandere?

Van is like Shauna in the way they are chill and okay with their darling having their own life and being able to leave them. Van does understand how ordinary love is and knows that she is somewhat crazy, but she doesn’t think she is that bad. But she is crazy territorial and possessive during and after the events of the wilderness.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit to escape?

Three words: words, pets, and boobs. Van’s favorite spot in the world is in your breasts as you pet her hair and say sweet words to her. It’s kinda like giving her some motheringly affection she has never had; she thinks it’s some kind of magic in your heartbeats. She loves your breasts and finds a lot of comfort in them. Just coo at her and pet her. You will get whatever you want.

She hums in the valley between your breasts, her cheek rests against your left breast, and she kisses the other. She looks up at you with her green eyes and sighs, “You’re perfect.”

“What? No way, van-” You giggle at her, pushing her away from your naked body from how tender she sounded.

“You are, Care bear! I love you!” She giggles back and kisses your breasts, and she bites down on the fattie flesh as she moans in pleasure of feeling the skin in her mouth. She then moves to suck onto your nipples again, as if it was her guilty pleasure in sex.

You bite a moan in your lip as you arch your back to the sensitive feeling of her sucking onto your breast. Her thick finger slides down your down hotly as she starts to pound into you again with her palm.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Van tries not to, but she is just a human being in a relationship with you. It’s bound to happen, and words are shared that hurt the other, not intentionally. Van doesn’t mean to leave marks from her bites, kisses, and touches, but sometimes it happens. She would never intend to hurt you in any way.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Van worships you like you are an angel; she will prey on you and ask for forgiveness for her bloodshed. It always is because you were fed and alive. You love her, which seems unworldly to her, and she will keep you as long as possible. She will not stop until she has you or to get you back after a breakup.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

After a few weeks, she puts her moves on very quickly, even though she only has cheesy jokes and autistic rizz.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not in any way outside of breaking your back with her strap.

Yandere Level

6/10 (She tries her hardest to hide these dark tendencies and isn’t the best at not showing her motives for keeping you. But she is so cute and sweet that it doesn’t show much of a problem.)

Freedom Level

9/10 (You are free, but Van tends to follow you.)

Taissa ✿ Misty ✿

#Yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #Dark! Yellowjackets #dark!au #Dark!Van palmer #vanessa palmer #Van palmer #van palmer x reader #vanessa palmer x reader #Van palmer smut #van palmer angst #van palmer fluff #lesbian

178 notes · View notes