#vibrant veils | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diejager · 1 year ago

Text

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention.

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes.

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument.

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body.

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail.

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him.

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight.

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours.

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures.

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you.

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home.

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him.

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him.

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty.

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind.

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition.

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to.

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition.

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you.

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live.

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much.

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures.

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room.

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making.

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal.

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue.

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave.

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him.

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying.

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh.

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back.

“You’re happy, ja?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan

4K notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Sacrifical Bride.

Commissioned by the very lovely @yanmaresu.

Pairing: Yandere!Hades x Reader (Record of Ragnarök).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Forced Marriage, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, and Mentions of Kidnapping/Prolonged Captivity. Not Canon Complacent. I Have Never Met Canon But I Hear She's Very Nice.

The wedding was a solemn affair.

Not dull, because nothing that had your heart beating so violently could ever be considered ‘dull’, and not dreary, because despite the many, many things you could say about your kidnapper-turned-husband, he wasn’t one for bland affairs. No, your dress was of the finest and most vibrant silks, your veil lined with pearls and rubies and the gown’s train long enough to swell and ebb behind you as you walked down the seemingly never-ending aisle, unaccompanied by any escort. Wreaths of shining ivory lilies and blooming chrysanthemums encircled marble pillars, low-burning lanterns casting the chapel in long, wavering shadows. The pews were empty. The only guests were his ghastly servants, and they’d never once said a word to you.

There was no officiant. Hades waited for you at the brimstone altar alone, a gentle simper playing over his lips as he watched you drag your feet and fight the urge to bolt, to run, to do the very thing that’d left you trapped in his arm in the first place. It was tempting, albeit pointless. You’d always been swift footed, but there was nowhere to escape to in Helheim. At best, you’d spend a few days hiding and struggling to survive in the empty plains that surrounded his looming fortress of a home. At worst, you’d find yourself without direction and beyond the reach of his control, hopelessly lost and stumbling through fields of fading dead and gnarled beasts and things that would make the man in front of you look hospitable, in comparison. You tried to remind yourself of that as your body begged you to flee.

As you reached the altar, his smile grew into something that could’ve been convincingly genuine, had it been able to reach the pits of lifeless ice that were his eyes. Rather, the gesture only seemed to add to the coil of dread growing tighter in the pit of your stomach as you stepped beside him, clutching your bouquet to your chest in a white-knuckled grip. He’d let you pick that out yourself, at least, and you’d taken a truly irrational amount of joy in picking wildflowers and trimming roses and breaking every rule of decorum your mother had ever taught you. Now, though, the shadows of his hall seemed to dull your vision-searing colors, and it was difficult to take joy in such a simple pleasure knowing the man in front of you sought to ensure you’d never braid daisies or sleep beneath open skies again, when he was staring you down like yet another precious gem he planned to add to his ever-growing collection. It was a cruel comparison, but not quite as hyperbolic as you would’ve liked.

There was a shallow sigh, a hand brought to the edge of your veil. He toyed with the fabric for a long moment before taking the hem in both hands and pulling it away from your face. If he recognized the terror stitched into your expression, he only deemed it worth a slight shake of his head. “Oh, beloved.” His hand fell to your cheek. “You’re as radiant as the day we met.”

The day he plucked you from your mortal life and dragged you into the depths of the earth, the day he’d forced the awful seeds of that terrible fruit down your throat and promised you would never see another living soul again. You swallowed back your nerves. “Please, don’t draw this out.”

You were lucky you’d fallen into the hands of such a mild-tempered captor. He let out an airy chuckle, turning back to the altar. It was decorated sparsely; an overflowing cornucopia posed in one corner, a standing thurible slowly releasing nauseatingly sweet incense into the stagnant air sitting in the other. Between them was only a bottle of dark wine and two twin chalices, crafted of only the finest bronze and polished until they shined in the low lighting. He filled both to the brim before looking towards you, a glint in his remaining eye as he took a chalice in either hand.

You’d been wrong when you assumed they were identical. Where one had a line of aimless, curling thorns following the rim and plunging down the length of the handle, the other was embellished with roses, abstract and nearly shapeless, forming neat columns across the body of the cup. He extended the latter to you, its contents threatening to spill as you took it in your trembling hands. You’d managed to talk him out of the more elaborate ceremonies he’d suggested, but it was difficult to remember that this was a preferable alternative now that could feel the chill of his wine seeping into your palms.

You brought it to your lips, held it there for a moment, then pulled back at the hint of a more familiar scent than that of his dizzying incense. “Pomegranates?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch.” For him, maybe. He’d always struggled to see things from your perspective. “Forgive my sentimentality.”

You wouldn’t, but you were smart enough to keep that to yourself. When he raised his chalice, you did the same, mirroring him when your own will failed you. “To us, darling.”

You nodded. “To us.”

He took a long sip from his chalice, seeming to savor the rich wine, while you drained yours in a single breath. Try as you might to enjoy it, you could only seem to taste ash.

A few vows were exchanged, a kiss pressed into the back of your hand when you flinched away from his attempt to communicate his affection more directly. Finally, he took your arm and guided you back to your shared chambers, lingering in the doorway while you collapsed onto his bed – your marital bed, now, you supposed. You buried your face in the silken sheets, letting out a soft groan. There would be a celebration later on, a feast with all of his many gloating brothers and prying sisters in attendance, but the worst of it was over. You were bound to him, for better or for worse. All you could do was weather the consequences.

You’d hoped he would be kind enough to leave you alone while you consoled yourself, while you took all that you knew and all that you didn’t and recontextualized it with yourself as the mortal bride to the God of Death, but a hand on your shoulder dispelled that fleeting fantasy. With no small amount of reluctance, you pushed yourself upward and turned your attention back to Hades. This time, without the pretense of custom, he didn’t settle for your hand. His mouth found its way to the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into his chosen targets.

When he started to move towards the curve of your throat, you moved on instinct – your hands finding their way to his hair as you dragged him away from you before he could do anything you wouldn’t be able to forget as soon as he left the room. “Please,” you said, not for the first time that day. “I… I’d rather be alone, right now. If it’s all the same to you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “You know that, if it were up to me, I would bend to your every whim,” he spaced the words out generously, as if worried your feeble human mind might not be able to understand. “But we aren’t done.”

Your expression fell. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I wore the dress, and—and I took your vows, and—”

“My love,” he cut you off swiftly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “Our union will have to be consummated, eventually.”

You felt your throat begin to swell shut.

“I know that, but—” You laid your hand over his, trying to call upon whatever pale imitation of sympathy might’ve existed in his heart. “—does it have to be consummated now?”

You watched as his gaze softened, as his head lulled to the side in that endeared-yet-condescending manner he seemed so fond of. Slowly, with a painstaking gentleness, he brought you closer to him, ghosting over the top of your head and lingering there, even as he started to speak. “I think,” he started, his voice muffled by proximity. “that it would be in your best interest not to keep me waiting any longer.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was posed like one, dredged up from somewhere deep in his chest and accompanied by his hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping underneath the sash binding your gown together. When you jerked back, reflexively trying to escape his advances, he was quick to chase you, to let his softened smile spread into an amused grin as an arm wrapped around your midriff and dragged you, willingly or otherwise, into his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And yet, your safety didn’t seem to cross his mind as his blunt nails bit into your waist, as he dragged you close enough to feel his chest press into yours, to become uncomfortably aware of the stiff outline against the loose fabric of his pants. “If I rely on my own self-restraint for another day—” Another kiss, this one to the tender patch of skin above your jugular vein. “I’m afraid I might end up doing something we both regret, when the time comes.”

“Less than a day,” you pleaded as he buried his face in your neck. There was a blur of movement, the ghost of his touch along the curve of your spine, and your bodice fell away in tatters, the ruined fabric collapsing to your waist. When you moved to cover yourself, Hades clicked his tongue and you froze, letting your arms fall back to your sides. Begging him to change his mind was one thing. Going against him so transparently would only make things more difficult. “Half a day. An hour. I just— Hades, I can’t do this right now—”

“My love.” Swift, blunt, merciless. You’d been a fool to ever think he was one of the kinder gods. “I think I’ve waited long enough to claim what belongs to me.”

Any protest you might’ve had died in your throat.

You’d been a fool to ever think he was anything less than the cruelest of his kin.

You wanted to scream. If you couldn’t run, then you would yell, raise your voice and tell him that he already had you, that he’d gotten everything he could’ve possibly wanted, but anything you might’ve said was torn away and ripped to shreds as his head dipped low, his teeth latching onto the vulnerable skin of you collar bone and sinking in. He didn’t draw blood, but he didn’t have to. A bolt of pure, stinging agony shot from your chest to your core, only dulling as he pulled away with a low groan. “Have I ever told you how much I adore the sound of my name on your tongue?” You felt his hand on your hip, then your thigh, the remains of your dress cut through and disposed of with little fanfare. He gave your bridal lingerie (pure white and so obnoxiously lacy, you’d had to wonder if this was all some sadistic joke as you slipped it on) more attention, his thumb running along the delicate trim before his fingers slipped underneath it, tracing the length of your slit before doing away with the barrier altogether.

Dread and panic dulled your reactions, but it would’ve been a lie to say the feeling of his mouth on your skin had left you completely unaffected. He chuckled as he gathered your slick on his fingertips, two of which were soon pressed into your clit with a brutal sort of precision. “And you tried to play coy.” He teased the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly, the patterns he traced into your clit too slow and too fleeting all at once. You wished he wouldn’t touch you at all, but if he was going to, it was the least he could’ve done not to draw it out. “That must’ve been why you seemed so rushed during our ceremony. If you’d asked me to make love to you on that altar, I happily would have.”

Hot, humiliated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You attempted to deny it, but a cracked moan slipped past your lips instead as two of his fingers were forced into your cunt and spread, splitting you apart. Your hands shot to his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself, but he only saw your desperation as an invitation – bowing his head and pumping his fingers into you at the kind of languid pace that left you fighting not to rock against him, not to make up for the urgency immortal creatures so often lacked. “You’re a vice,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his tone low and lecherous. You wondered, briefly, if words that fell from the lips of a god could be considered sinful. “To think my own wife would’ve had me neglect her so severely for so long.”

You shook your head. You were married to him, sure, bound to him. But you couldn’t afford to think of yourself as his wife. You couldn’t afford to think of yourself as something so limited, something so purely an extension of him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings. I can see that I underestimated just how much attention my little mortal would need.” His wrist quirked, another digit pushing past your entrance and stuffing your pussy full as his fingers curled and ground inside of you. Against your will, you felt a tight heat begin to twist and writhe in the pit of your stomach, pangs of burning pleasure coursing from your cunt to your core. Now, you cried unabashedly, embarrassment and shame burning in your cheeks and fueling the unsteady stream of tears that Hades was so agonizingly quick to coo over, to kiss away as your hips bucked unsteadily against his hand. “What a sensitive wife I have.” That word – that awful word – was enough to earn a ragged sob, but if he recognized the connection, he didn’t deem it worth his concern. “I promise, you’ll never feel so unloved in my care again.”

You would’ve given anything to be able to pull away from him, to be able to shove at his chest and swear to all the gods you’d once worshiped that there was no part of you that could ever feel loved with him, but in the end, he was the one to let you go, to throw you onto the center of his great bed and leave you whining involuntarily at the sudden loss of stimulation. He’d never been one to deprive you, though; in a moment, he was in between your open legs, one hand wrapped loosely around your thigh while the other pulled feverishly at his own clothes. His coat fell away first, then his shirt. You heard fabric shift and metal clink and, in a daze, saw him wrap his fist around something he could not have possibly planned to fit inside of you. Half out of terror and half out of instinct, your gaze flickered from his cock to his face – to the wide, fanged grin he’d been wearing for as long as you could remember.

He moved to kiss you, and you drove your heel into his stomach.

The blow would’ve been weak by human standards, but it caught him off-guard. Out of reflex, he reeled back, and you took the opportunity to scramble off his bed and towards the door, to any part of this forsaken place where Hades wasn’t. You made it a step, maybe two before something caught your shoulder, before your body buckled under a weight greater than your own. You were dragged onto your knees before you could so much as think to slip away from him, your cheek forced against the cool marble of the floor before you could hope to make your descent more dignified. You felt his broad chest press into your back, his snarling lips against the curve of your throat. You wondered if the insult would be great enough to warrant taking your life, but the thought was dismissed quickly.

Hades had never been the kind of god capable of showing such mercy.

“I would’ve made love to you like a queen,” he spat, his tone all manic venom and overdue obsession. “But, if you’d rather be fucked on the ground like a whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You weren’t allowed the luxury of bracing yourself, this time. In one brutal movement, he thrust into you, splitting you open on his cock with the kind of harsh, unforgiving force better suited to a wild animal. There was no time to adjust, no time to sob, only Hades groaning against your neck as he bucked against you, never daring to pull out completely. Whatever agony his fingers had sparked was now ten-fold. Your legs shook, your body threatening to collapse entirely, but Hades kept your ass raised and your thighs spread, his focus entirely on bucking into you as deeply and as roughly as he could.

It almost surprised you when one of his hands shot to your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he forced his mouth against yours. You tried not to cooperate, but two fingers pressed into your clit and your mouth fell open in a guttural cry, providing an opening he seemed content to take advantage of. It was a deep, lingering, messything – all tongue and teeth – but his cock ground against something soft and vulnerable and you failed to suppress the wave of pure heat that flooded through your battered body as you clenched around him, as you came undone around the cock of your kidnapper, your captor, your husband. Hades wasn’t far behind, his composure shattering no more than a second after the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. You could only choke on your misery-tinged pleasure as his hips pressed into your ass and he came inside of you – his awful warmth soon tainting every fiber of your being.

You tried to tell yourself that, at the very least, it was over - that he’d had his fill of you and now, you’d be free to console yourself elsewhere, but your hopes were once again dashed when Hades failed to release you, failed to pull out of you, failed to do anything but press himself into your back and trail his lips idly down to the nape of your neck. “Once is a pitiful amount for a king. Don’t you agree?”

You felt his hips move back, then rock against you just as quickly.

“You can forgive me when we’re done, love.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok imagines #record of ragnarok x reader #hades x reader #yandere hades #yaanderecore #yancore

4K notes · View notes

felassan · 5 months ago

Text

Dragon Age: The Veilguard - locations

"PLACES YOU'LL VISIT Enter Thedas, a vibrant world of rugged wilderness, treacherous labyrinths and glittering cities."

"Rivain A country surrounded by glistening waters where The Chantry has little sway. The Lords of Fortune call Rivain home. Arlathan Forest Once an ancient Elven city, now overgrown ruins riddled with magic. The Veil Jumpers work to uncover its secrets. Minrathous The capital of the Tevinter Imperium and one of Thedas’ most ancient cities. The gap between rich and poor is stark. Coming soon More locations coming soon."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #biowar #video games #long post #longpost

1K notes · View notes

theinnerunderrain · 7 months ago

Text

The earth destroyed itself [Yan! Capitano x Fem! Reader]

Warnings: yandere themes, minor character death, brief description of violence, Capitano and reader are married and have a son.

"...What have you done?"

You stood at the entrance of the throne room, your heart sinking as your eyes fell upon the scene before you. Your beloved husband, bathed in the flickering light of the candles that lined the walls, stood over the lifeless body of your eldest son. His hands were stained with blood, a sword clutched tightly in his grasp. The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the torches and the sound of your husband's heavy breathing. You felt a wave of disbelief wash over you, followed by a deep sadness that seemed to seep into your bones.

You took a tentative step forward, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke again, "What have you done, my love?"

The word 'love' slipped from your lips like a fragile whisper as you took another hesitant step towards him, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest. Capitano remained silent, his gaze reluctantly leaving the lifeless form at his feet to meet yours, though his expression remained veiled by the helmet he always wore. Another eerie moment of silence stretched, the air thick with unspoken words and heavy with grief. You gathered your courage and stepped forward, your gaze fixed on the lifeless form of your son. His hair, once a vibrant hue, now marred by blood, framed his pale face, his eyes closed in eternal rest.

"What have you done?"

You inquired once more, your voice unwavering, as you hastened toward your son and knelt by his side. His blood seeped into the fabric of your white dress as you cradled his lifeless form, delicately brushing his hair from his eyes in a desperate bid to find a glimmer of vitality. Yet, his eyes stared back at you, vacant and hollow, his lips frozen in a silent plea, tears tracing lines down his once-rosy cheeks.

Capitano stood in solemn silence, his grip on the sword unwavering, before he spoke, his voice carrying a quiet resolve despite the heart-wrenching scene before him.

"It was an inevitability."

"What are you even talking about...! How could you do this? He's...he's our son!"

Your voice trembled, momentarily finding resolve, as you cradled your son's head against your chest. Tears teetered on the brink, poised to cascade down your cheeks, as you clung to him, reluctant to release his form. Amidst this tragic tableau, a narrative of his making, Capitano could not help it find you to be a vision of ethereal beauty.

"He was deemed dangerous. The prophecy forewarned of his tyrannical future, predicting he would pose a threat to your life."

He attempted to explain, dropping to his knees and reaching for your arm, yet you brushed him off as though he were tainted. You regarded him, lips pressed in a firm line, eyes brimming with a blend of sorrow and disbelief for the man who was once your beloved.

"A prophecy...? How could you entrust our son's fate to such a thing...?"

Your tone held a note of incredulity as you let out a bitter laugh, struggling to accept the rationale behind his actions.

"I couldn't risk endangering your life..."

He attempted to reason, but you interrupted him, your voice cutting through the air.

"So you chose to sacrifice his life instead..? How could you commit such a grievous act..?"

Your words, though laced with sorrow and accusation, carried the weight of a thousand unspoken questions. They resonated in the chamber, filling the space between you with a palpable tension, like the charged air before a storm. Capitano remained on his knees, his gaze fixed on you, his expression unreadable behind his stoic facade. He felt the weight of your words, each one a dagger that pierced through his resolve.

"[First Name]..."

He called out your name with a soft yet commanding tone, reaching out to grasp your wrist gently but firmly, pulling you closer despite your desperate struggle. Your son's lifeless body slipped from your grasp, falling to the cold floor in a pool of his own blood as you wailed and cried, yearning to hold him once more. Capitano stood steadfast, allowing you to scratch and scream at him, though your efforts were feeble in his grasp. He remained unmoved, understanding the depth of your anguish.

"Let go of me..!"

In the aftermath of your son's death and your husband's betrayal, you found yourself overwhelmed with weariness and sorrow. Your futile struggles ceased as you surrendered to a wave of tears, the weight of the tragedy washing over you. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, your hands and knees stained crimson from the tragic events. Despite the wrongness of seeking solace from the man who had caused you such pain, his presence offered a strange sense of comfort in the midst of your grief and shock. Capitano's embrace was a gentle dance, a fleeting touch that spoke volumes of tenderness and restraint. In the depths of your sorrow, he stood as a silent sentinel, a pillar of strength amidst the tempest of your grief. His touch, like a soft breeze, caressed your pain, offering solace in the midst of your anguish.

After what seemed like an eternity, you gathered the strength to speak through your tears, your voice a fragile whisper echoing in the hallowed silence of the room, your words simple yet causing his heart to drop upon hearing it.

"You're nothing but a disgusting traitor to me, may you suffer for the entirety of your life and onto the next one."

2K notes · View notes

romugh · 30 days ago

Text

RUNNING IN CIRCLES- NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 23rd — stress relief, free use, friends with benefits

DAY FOURTEEN || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- natasha romanoff x medic!avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natty, fingering (n rcv), oral (n & r rcv), rough & vulnerable sex? not many tags in this one!

wc- 8438 words

a/n- absolutely loved writing this :') differs from my usual filthy stories, but it's still got it's smutty goodness hidden! :p very poorly edited and reread though, sorry in advance <3

synopsis- uhhh later i gotta study

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches, @lizziewitchy ❀ - comment or dm to be added :)

The crisp autumn air carried a bite that sank into your skin, even through the thick fabric of your SHIELD uniform. Outside, the trees had begun their slow transformation, leaves turning from deep greens to vivid shades of amber and crimson. As you walked down the corridor, you could see the skyline of the city framed by the headquarters’ tall windows, the buildings standing tall against the grey-blue sky streaked with the orange light of dusk.

Autumn had always been your favourite time of year. There was something invigorating about the chill in the air, the way it sharpened your senses and reminded you of the changing seasons. It wasn’t just a shift in weather—it was a time of transition, of letting go and starting anew. The world seemed to draw inward, becoming quieter, more introspective. And yet, for all its beauty, autumn was also a time of unravelling, of revealing the underlying fragility beneath nature’s vibrant display.

It wasn’t much different from life at SHIELD, you thought. The polished surfaces and steel corridors held a kind of deceptive calm, a veil over the constant motion of agents moving from one mission to the next, patching themselves up and heading right back into the fray. The medical team worked tirelessly in the med bay, patching up wounds that spoke stories of close calls and dangerous encounters, although there were always those who chose to bypass the med bay entirely.

Natasha Romanoff was one of those.

You’d seen her a handful of times in the corridors and offices, her expression always calm, almost detached, as she moved with a purpose that never faltered. It wasn’t that she was unapproachable—she exchanged words with other agents quite often, actually—but there was a clear distance she kept, a barrier that kept others from getting too close. As far as you knew, she had not once come to the medical wing. If she had sustained injuries, she kept them hidden well to an untrained eye.

You suspect that she handled most (if not all) of her wounds herself, stitching up gashes in the quiet solitude of her room and bandaging bruises with the same efficiency as she did her missions. It was the kind of self-sufficiency you’d expect from someone with her background. She had come to SHIELD from a life that demanded resilience, a life where depending on others could mean the difference between survival and death.

But the traces were there if you, SHIELD’s best medic both on and off the field, looked closely enough. Sometimes, when she crossed paths with you in the halls, you’d notice a faint mark along her jaw, or the slight favouring of one leg over the other. Nothing major, but enough to suggest she wasn’t invincible, no matter how she made it seem. It was as if she considered her injuries her own secret to keep, never offering them up for anyone else to see.

You often wondered what it was that kept her from seeking help. Pride, perhaps, or a simple lack of trust in others’ abilities to treat wounds as precisely as she could. Or maybe it was just a habit—an old reflex from her past, carried over into the present, one that kept her self-reliant to the point of isolation.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity whenever you saw her passing by. What kind of person could continue like that, carrying their pain alone and never asking for anything? What did it cost her to keep everyone else at arm’s length? And what would it take for her to finally walk through the doors of the med bay, to let herself be cared for by someone else?

(You acted like it wouldn't matter if that someone else turned out to be you.)

(It did matter. Who are you trying to fool??)

The Avengers, Fury and his right hand eye Maria, and Agent Coulson were seated at the debriefing table, half-listening to Fury’s voice as he went over details of the recent happenings in New York. The room felt cold and stale despite the hushed murmurs and shifting bodies of the gathered Avengers. Natasha was no stranger to these debriefings, yet today felt different. There was a tension that hung in the air, a sense of expectation she couldn’t quite shake.

Fury paused, glancing toward Maria before asking, "Where’s Dr. [Y/L/N]? I want her in here for this."

Maria nodded, left the room with a quick stride, and the space fell into a brief, uncertain silence. Natasha’s brows furrowed as she stared at the door Maria had just exited through. She had heard the name before—Dr. [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. The head medic at SHIELD, supposedly one of the best in the business. Natasha knew your name, but that was it. She’d never bothered to seek you out, preferring to handle her own injuries anyway, to keep her vulnerabilities under lock and key.

As the door opened again and you entered behind Maria, the quiet murmur of the room seemed to still completely. You stepped in with a confidence that felt almost casual, your uniform fitting snugly against your muscular frame, showcasing the strength in your arms and legs, while still accentuating your femininity. You had a kind of presence that filled the room—bold yet serene. It was something that Natasha found herself drawn to almost immediately, her attention locking onto you as you came to stand near the table.

Your skin seemed to glow against the muted tones of the room, a healthy flush brought out by the brisk autumn air outside. Natasha’s gaze drifted over you, taking in the shape of your jaw, the arch of your brow, the curve of your lips. You looked… different from what she’d expected. Not in a way that was disappointing—no, far from it. It was more that she hadn’t expected someone with your kind of beauty to be the person who spent their days stitching together the wounds of agents, taking care of others in a world that offered so little care in return.

God, you were so pretty.

Natasha hadn’t meant for the thought to hit her so suddenly, but there it was. It unfolded in her mind with a kind of vividness that startled her. You were pretty. No—beautiful. Strong. Mesmerising, even. The kind of person who stood out without trying, who seemed to belong in the very air around them.

She cursed herself quietly, realising she was staring, and that her thoughts were running away with her. Her chest tightened with a strange, unexpected sensation, something that lingered in the back of her throat, catching at her breath. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this about anyone—let alone someone she had just met, or if she ever even had felt this way at all.

She hadn’t even really met you yet. She was just looking at you—right now, at this exact moment—for the first time.

And already, there was something there. An unfamiliar warmth unfurling beneath her ribs, spreading outwards in a way that made her wonder if it was adrenaline or something else entirely.

As you took a seat at the table, Maria introduced you to the Avengers, Bruce and Tony sending you a small smile in recognition, "Dr. [Y/L/N], head medic at SHIELD, also responsible for overseeing the field medics. She’s been with us for a while now, recently keeping out of the action but always ensuring our agents come back in one piece."

The explanation seemed distant to Natasha, drowned out by the thoughts that crowded her mind. You had been the head medic at SHIELD all this time, and she had never even thought to step foot in the med bay. How many times had she stitched herself up in her room, refusing to show any sign of weakness to anyone? And now, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest hint of regret. What would it have been like to be treated by you? To have those hands bandaging her wounds?

A blush crept onto her cheeks unbidden, and she clenched her jaw to hide it, forcing herself to focus on Fury as he spoke. But then there was that moment, that brief exchange when you glanced her way, and your eyes met hers for the first time. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, a hitch so subtle she doubted anyone noticed. But she noticed it. She felt the way her pulse quickened just the slightest bit.

You were speaking to Fury now, your voice calm and unwavering as you discussed your hesitation about the new position. Natasha listened intently, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. It wasn’t like her to pay this much attention to a person she didn’t know. Yet, there was something about you—the way you carried yourself, the way you seemed both grounded and powerful, that made her want to know more.

She hadn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked in.

You let out a sigh, your mind racing with the implications of what Fury was asking. It wasn’t that you doubted your ability; you had proven your strength countless times in the field, and your physique—a testament to hours of gruelling training—reflected that. But something about this offer felt different. He was asking for more than medical expertise. He wanted you back in the thick of things, facing enemies head-on while patching up your teammates whenever that would be needed.

“What exactly would change?” you finally asked, voice steady as you pretended not to feel the Black Widow’s gaze boring into your soul.

She could sense your uncertainty as you spoke, could see the way you hesitated when Fury explained that the role would involve being more than just a medic. You’d be a full-fledged agent, an Avenger, basically. You looked at Fury with scepticism in your gaze, your lips pursed in a faint frown. Natasha almost smiled at that. She liked the way you questioned things, the way you didn’t simply accept everything at face value.

The weight of his words settled in. You would be more than a healer. You would be a warrior.

You sighed softly, shook your head, and stood up. You walked over to Fury, reaching into the breast pocket of his coat and pulling out his pen with a deft, graceful movement. It was such a simple act, but Natasha found herself watching every second of it, as if it were a dance unfolding right before her. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, the steady thrum of it filling her senses.

When you signed the paper and handed the pen back to Fury, Natasha could have sworn she saw the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the corners of your lips, as if you were silently challenging the world—or maybe just him. And just like that, you turned and walked out of the room, leaving behind an unexpected sense of anticipation in your wake.

Natasha realised then, as the door clicked shut behind you, that her curiosity was already blooming into something else, something she didn’t want to acknowledge, didn’t want to admit.

Yet for the first time in her life, she found herself wondering what it would be like to let someone in, to let someone see past the carefully constructed walls she kept around herself.

‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚

Natasha found herself standing at her room’s door, her fingertips grazing the very faint burn on her palm. The dull sting served as a reminder of her momentary distraction in the kitchen. She glanced at the door across the hallway—your door—still unoccupied. Her brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as her mind wandered to thoughts of you. You should’ve moved in by now, settled into your newly assigned Avengers room in front of hers. But for some reason, it remained untouched, a constant reminder that you weren’t there.

It was absurd, really. She wasn’t used to this—this strange, inexplicable feeling of missing someone she barely knew.

With a frustrated sigh, she turned on her heels and headed down the corridor, her steps picking up pace.

She wasn’t sure why she was doing this—why she was making her way to the med bay for something so minor. The skin wasn’t even burned, just red and slightly tender, the kind of irritation that would go away in an hour or so. Normally, she wouldn’t even give it a second thought. But this time, as she approached the med bay, she found herself hoping that you were there.

The sliding doors parted, and Natasha hesitated at the threshold, her gaze searching the room. There you were, sitting in your office behind the glass walls, a faint frown on your face as you worked on some paperwork, your work glasses perched delicately on your nose. Her heart gave an unsteady thump as she took you in, the way the light cast gentle shadows across your features. It was so mundane, so normal, yet something about seeing you there—focused, calm, and completely unaware of her presence—sent a jolt of nervous energy rushing through her.

As if sensing her gaze, you looked up from your work. Your eyes met hers, and for a second, everything seemed to slow. The tension in her chest unravelled just a bit, the weight of her own uncertainty lifting at the sight of the small, welcoming smile you sent her way.

But then, the reality of the situation crashed back in, her nerves flaring up once more. What was she doing here? Natasha wasn’t used to feeling nervous—she was the Black Widow, for god's sake. Yet the warmth creeping up her cheeks betrayed her, and she quickly averted her eyes, glancing around the med bay in a futile attempt to hide the flush that tinged her skin. She scanned the empty beds, hoping for any distraction, any excuse to turn back. There wasn’t a single medic in sight.

When she glanced back at you, you were still watching her, your expression now tinged with a hint of curiosity. The small smile remained on your lips, but your brows drew together slightly, a question forming in your eyes as you took in her hesitant stance. Natasha stood there, rooted in place, her hand still pressed to the burn that she’d nearly forgotten about.

You tilted your head, motioning her inside with a simple gesture. She took a steadying breath, feeling her pulse quicken as she pushed open the door to your office. Her steps were quieter than usual, hesitant even, as she crossed the threshold. She took a steadying breath, walking into your office with a calm that didn’t quite reach her racing pulse. Your eyes tracked her movements, and she could feel your gaze lingering on her, keen and observant.

“Natasha,” you greeted, your tone light, yet there was an underlying note of concern. “This is a surprise.” You glanced at her hand, then back to her face, as if piecing together the puzzle before you. “What brings you to the med bay?”

She swallowed, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. “Burned myself,” she admitted, her voice steady, though it felt like every nerve in her body was lit up with the awareness of how close you were, of how you were looking at her with such careful attention. She showed you her hand, revealing the reddened skin of her palm.

Your gaze flickered down to the ‘burn’, your expression softening as you took her hand in yours. Your touch was gentle, professional, but even so, it sent a jolt of awareness through her.

You gave the faintest chuckle as you looked at the ‘injury’, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Not sure this qualifies as a burn,” you said, your tone dry, though not unkind. “More like… a heated reminder that pans get hot.”

Natasha huffed, her lips curving into a small, reluctant smile. “Guess I’m not much of a chef,” she murmured. The words tasted foreign on her tongue, an admission of sorts, one she wouldn’t normally make. But there was something about the way you looked at her—patient, unhurried—that made her feel like she could let that slip.

You motioned for her to sit on one of the medical beds, and though you knew you wouldn’t need to treat her ‘burn’, you figured it would be better than letting her stand there awkwardly. “Go ahead, take a seat,” you said with a nod toward the bed. “Might as well make you comfortable while I bandage you up for, uh, safety reasons.”

She sat onto the bed, her movements graceful but not entirely relaxed, as if she didn’t know what to do with herself in this setting. You took your time gathering a few supplies—far more than you needed, really—giving her a chance to settle in. As you approached, you couldn’t help but wonder what had truly brought her here. The faint redness on her palm wasn’t worth a trip to the med bay, especially not for someone like Natasha, who you knew could take a bullet without flinching.

You gently took her hand in yours, inspecting the skin. “Honestly,” you murmured, keeping your tone light, “I’ve seen paper cuts worse than this.” You dabbed at the redness with a disinfectant wipe, more out of habit than necessity. “If you’re planning on cooking again, though, I’d recommend sticking to things that don’t involve open flames. Or hot pans. Or, well, anything that could potentially burn the whole tower down.”

A faint scoff escaped her, but there was a trace of amusement there, even if she wouldn’t admit it. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, her voice laced with dry humour. But as you worked, she found herself less focused on the barely noticeable sting of the wipe and more on the warmth of your hands, the way your touch was careful and gentle, even though it really didn’t need to be.

“You know,” you started again, your tone conversational, “I didn’t think I’d ever see the infamous Natasha Romanoff in the med bay.” Your lips curved into a teasing smile. “I thought you were allergic to hospitals.”

Natasha scoffed, rolling her eyes even as a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Not allergic,” she replied.

You began to wrap a small bandage around her palm—a completely unnecessary measure, but you had a suspicion that there was more to her visit than a minor kitchen mishap. You chuckled softly, and the sound wrapped around her, disarming her in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Well, I’m honoured to be your first doctor,” you said, your tone light but sincere. “I solemnly swear to do my best to make it worth your while.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence as you finished bandaging her hand, your touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. When you finally stepped back, Natasha found herself reluctant to leave the warmth of your presence. It felt strange—this desire to stay, to linger in your office just a little while longer. But before she could come up with an excuse, you spoke again.

“Try not to make a habit of burning yourself, okay?” you said, your tone gently teasing. “But if you do, you know where to find me. Well, you’re welcome here anytime, actually not just with me,” you said, the warmth in your tone unmistakable. “Even if it’s just to burn yourself on another pan.”

Natasha shook her head slightly, a small smile curling at her lips as she slipped off the bed. “Thanks, doc,” she murmured, her voice softer now, the weight of her unspoken thoughts hanging in the air between you. She turned to leave, but not without glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer.

When she walked out, she felt an odd mix of relief and regret, like she’d left something important behind in that small, sterile room. But there was also a sense of quiet anticipation, a nagging thought at the back of her mind that maybe, just maybe, she’d be finding her way back to you sooner than she’d expected.

As the med bay’s room clicked shut behind her, Natasha couldn’t help but notice the absence of that soothing calmness your presence brought.

Her thoughts trailed back to the feeling of your hands on her skin, the way you looked at her with such genuine care. It was foreign, this sense of wanting to be seen, to be taken care of. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. But as she headed back to her room, her mind kept drifting to you, to the thought of what it might be like to let herself be vulnerable for once. To let someone in.

And it was that thought that left her standing in the hallway, staring at your empty room again, with a faint glimmer of anticipation she didn’t quite know how to name.

‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚

The dimly lit corridors of the Avengers Tower were quiet at this hour, the stillness only broken by the sound of Natasha’s footsteps as she made her way down the hall. It was well past midnight when she returned from the mission, her body aching from bruises and scrapes that ran deeper than they looked. There were no major injuries—nothing that would keep her from reporting for duty tomorrow—but she knew she needed to see you. There was something different about this mission, something that gnawed at her. The kind of thing she didn’t talk about.

When she reached the med bay, she found the lights still on in your office. You were hunched over a tablet, reviewing some data from the Regeneration Cradle project, still in your scrubs despite the late hour. Natasha hesitated for a moment, unsure of what exactly had drawn her here yet again. But before she could question it any further, you glanced up and saw her standing there, framed by the doorway, your brows knitting together in concern as you took in her dishevelled appearance.

“Natasha,” you murmured, rising from your chair and crossing the room in a few swift strides. “What happened?”

She shrugged, the motion a little stiff, her expression unreadable. “Mission got a bit rough. Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied, though you noticed the faint tremor in her voice. It was almost imperceptible, but you’d spent enough time with her now to pick up on the small cracks in her otherwise flawless façade.

“Sit down,” you said softly, your voice steady but firm, leaving no room for argument. She obeyed without protest, settling onto one of the medical beds while you began to gather supplies. As you worked to clean and dress her wounds, you could see the signs of fatigue written across her features, the way her shoulders sagged and the dullness in her usually sharp eyes.

You tended to her in silence for a while, your hands moving with practised ease, but as you wrapped a bandage around her arm, you noticed the distant look in her gaze. Her mind was somewhere else, reliving whatever had unfolded on that mission. It wasn’t just the bruises or the cuts—something deeper had left its mark on her, something that bandages couldn’t heal.

When you finished, you packed up the supplies and glanced at the clock. You could see the exhaustion settling over her like a weight she couldn’t shake off. “Come on,” you said quietly, your tone gentle yet insistent. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity and surprise flickering across her expression. “And go where?” she asked, though her voice was softer now, not challenging.

You didn’t answer right away, just gave her a small, reassuring smile as you started toward the door. She fell into step beside you, and for a moment, the silence stretched on, neither of you quite sure what to say. It wasn’t until you reached your floor, walked into the hallway and passed by the door to your own room that she noticed your hand lingering on that handle.

Natasha watched as you pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was the first time she’d seen you enter your room, and something about it felt significant, like you were crossing a line that had been quietly drawn between SHIELD-you and Avenger-you. But just as quickly, you emerged again, pulling the door shut behind you as if it had been nothing at all.

You turned to her, and before she could think of anything to say, you placed your hand gently on the small of her back, your touch grounding her in the quiet darkness of the hallway. Leaning in close, you whispered, “You’re not going to be alone tonight, Natasha. I’m not leaving you to deal with this by yourself.” Your voice was firm, yet so tender it almost broke her resolve.

Her breath hitched, and she felt a shiver run through her at the closeness, at the feeling of your warmth pressed lightly against her. The words hung in the air, wrapping around her in a way that made her want to lean into you, to let down the walls she’d so carefully built up. But she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t used to someone offering to tend to her in this way, to look beyond the bruises and cuts and see the wounds that lay beneath.

You saw the hesitation flicker in her eyes, so you took a step forward, pushing the door to her room open with your foot and guiding her inside. She let you steer her, grateful for the quiet control you took over the situation. It felt strangely freeing to relinquish that power, even just a little, and she found herself relishing the way you took charge, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her mind was racing now, her thoughts blurring into a haze as she imagined you continuing to take control—not just over this moment, but over her entirely. She could almost see it, feel it—the way your hands would travel across her skin, guiding her to let go, to forget about the burdens that weighed on her. It was a dangerous line to tread, one she’d never dared to walk before. But as you gently steered her toward the bed, keeping your hand at the small of her back, she found herself wishing for it, craving it.

You closed the door behind you with a quiet click, the sound almost like a promise. “You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered, your voice steady, yet carrying a note of command that sent another shiver down her spine. “Just let me take care of you tonight. Whatever you need.”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, the emotions swirling inside her too complex, too raw to unravel right then. But as she sank down onto the bed, she allowed herself to look up at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. There was none. Only the steady calm of your gaze and the silent promise that you wouldn’t let your friend and teammate be alone with the darkness of her thoughts.

The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the gentle rustling of sheets as Natasha settled onto the bed. You could see right away now that something was different about her tonight—her movements were slower, her gaze unfocused, and there was a hesitance in the way she held herself. This wasn’t the confident, self-assured woman you’d come to know. She looked almost… lost.

You didn’t comment on it, though. There was no need to call attention to what was already evident in the way she slumped slightly, or the way her eyes drifted to the floor, avoiding yours. Instead, you pulled up a chair beside the bed, lowering yourself to her level. "Natasha," you said softly, your voice laced with concern, "is it alright for you if I stay here tonight?" She looked up at you, a flicker of surprise crossing her expression. "I see what you're going through," you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "You don’t have to say anything, but I just want you to know that you’re safe here. I meant it when I said you could always come to me.”

She nodded, a small, almost imperceptible motion, but there was a weight to it that spoke louder than words. "You can stay," she murmured, though the admission seemed to make her tense up even more, as if the very act of accepting comfort was something foreign to her.

You moved to sit beside her on the bed, and she hesitated for a moment before scooting closer, leaning into you ever so slightly. Her mind must have been racing, you realised, because the look in her eyes was distant, glazed over with something that lay beyond mere exhaustion. A soft flush began to bloom on her cheeks, high up on those sharp cheekbones of hers, and you could see the way her breath quickened ever so slightly.

Curious, you tilted her chin up with your fingers, guiding her gaze back to you. "Natasha," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "talk to me."

Her composure cracked like thin ice under the weight of her emotions. Her shoulders slumped, and her breath shuddered out of her. "The mission," she began, her voice raw and tired, "it was… draining. More than usual." She took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with a vulnerability you hadn’t this explicitly seen from her before. "I’m so exhausted, in my head… But my body doesn’t know how to stop. I can’t seem to switch off, not even for a few hours of sleep."

You pulled her into your arms without hesitation, feeling her melt into your embrace as you held her close. Her head rested against your chest, her breaths coming in uneven patterns as you gently stroked her hair, your fingers running through the strands in a soothing rhythm. She nestled herself deeper into you, finding comfort in the steady beat of your heart, and for a long while, you simply held her, letting the silence stretch on as she settled into the warmth of your touch.

After a while, she tilted her head up, resting her chin against your sternum so she could meet your gaze. Her eyes were dark, filled with a yearning you couldn’t quite place, and she whispered, "Do you… have a remedy for that? For this? For helping me sleep?" There was something in the way she said it that carried more weight than just the words themselves, like she was asking for something deeper, something that went beyond comfort and rest.

You shook your head softly, your fingers still combing through her hair. "I don’t," you admitted, your voice low and steady, "but I can stay with you. I’ll be here, Natasha. For as long as you need me."

A small, frustrated whine escaped her lips as she burrowed her face into your chest again, trying to get comfortable in your embrace. She shifted against you, the silk of her bralette brushing against your skin as she cuddled closer, her hands slowly trailing down your sides. You continued to rub her back, your hands tracing gentle circles over the soft material, pressing into the tense muscles to release the knots that seemed to have built up there. She sighed into your touch, her breath hot against your skin, her body relaxing bit by bit under your ministrations.

But then, as your hands wandered lower, you felt it—the slight roll of her hips against your thigh, a subtle motion at first, as if she hadn’t quite realised she was doing it. But there was no mistaking the soft, breathy moan that slipped from her lips as she continued, her body responding to the contact in a way that betrayed her exhaustion. It was instinctual, unthinking—her hips moved with a slow rhythm, grinding against the muscle of your thigh, her breath quickening as she unconsciously chased some kind of relief.

Your hands stilled for a moment, and you could feel your pulse quicken at the realisation of what was happening. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t anticipated that her need for comfort would turn into something else. But as she pressed herself against you, her breath becoming more laboured with each movement, you found yourself reacting to her in ways you hadn’t thought you would. Heat pooled low in your belly, and you felt the tension building as she rutted against you, completely unaware of just how much she was affecting you.

You slipped your hands lower, cupping her behind and giving it a firm squeeze, feeling the way she gasped, the sound escaping her lips louder than before. "Natasha," you breathed, your voice low and gravelly as you massaged the flesh beneath your hands, the heat of her skin searing through the thin silk.

She whimpered at your touch, burying her face even deeper into your chest as if to hide the flush that burned across her cheeks. Her hands fisted the fabric of your pyjama shirt, tugging at it almost desperately, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly as you reached down to help her peel it off. She pushed it up and over your head with trembling hands, her gaze still filled with that desperate, confused need that made her look so beautifully vulnerable.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your voice gentle but laced with a hint of command. “I’m here, Natasha. I’m your best friend, remember? I said I’d help you with anything.” The words hung in the air between you, their meaning sinking in as you brushed your thumb over the curve of her cheek. Her breathing hitched, her eyes searching yours for reassurance, and you gave it to her without hesitation, pulling her closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

Natasha’s body trembled against yours, the air thick with a mixture of tension and anticipation. Her breath came in shallow pants, and you could feel the way her muscles tensed as your hands wandered over her curves again, massaging the silk-covered skin beneath your touch. You kissed along the side of her neck, gentle and slow, as if to coax her into relaxing even further, but you could sense the way she craved more—something deeper, something stronger.

Her hands gripped your shoulders, nails digging in as you eased her back onto the bed. She lay beneath you, her hair fanned out across the pillow, and you took a moment to admire the flush on her cheeks, the darkened look in her eyes that spoke of need.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her back arching instinctively as your hand slid between her thighs, grazing the damp fabric of her underwear. She gasped, hips jerking up to meet your touch, the thin barrier doing nothing to hide the wetness that had already pooled there.

"You're so tense," you whispered, your voice low and soothing as you slipped a hand inside her panties, finally touching her bare. The heat of her arousal coated your fingers, and Natasha’s head fell back with a sigh as you began to trace slow, teasing circles over her clit. "Just let go for me… I'm right here."

Your words seemed to unravel something in her, a barrier breaking down as her legs fell open wider, inviting more of your touch. You slid a finger inside her, her walls clenching around you instantly, hot and slick.

Her moans were soft at first, barely audible as you set a gentle rhythm, the pads of your fingers curling up to stroke that sensitive spot inside her that made her toes curl. She was dripping, her arousal coating your fingers as you slipped another one in, filling her more. Her hips moved in time with your thrusts, as if seeking even more pressure, more friction.

It was pure bliss for her; your touch was skilled, coaxing her closer to release with every deliberate stroke. Her hands fisted the sheets as you leaned down, kissing along her collarbone, and you could feel the way she trembled beneath you, her thighs quivering.

It didn’t take long before you felt her tightening around your fingers, her breath coming faster, her moans growing higher and more desperate. You kept your pace even as she came, her body shuddering in pleasure, riding out the waves of her first orgasm.

You kept your touch and movements gentle, drawing out her pleasure, letting her ride the waves as they gradually ebbed, not wanting to overwhelm her just yet.. But just as her breathing steadied, a hoarse whisper escaped her lips, "More… please, I need… rougher."

The desperation in her voice was raw, unfiltered, and it made something tighten in your chest. This wasn’t just about pleasure; she was asking for something deeper, a way to escape the weight she carried.

Natasha’s skin glowed with a light sheen of sweat, the warmth radiating off her body mixing with the coolness of the room. As you leaned over her, your hands travelled the curves of her ribs, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her silk bralette. The fabric felt smooth against your fingertips as you traced over the taut muscles of her abdomen, her body tense and ready beneath you. She let out a soft sigh, a quiet surrender as she allowed herself to let go, to focus solely on the sensations you were creating.

You shifted your weight slightly, your hips pressing into the firmness of her pelvis as you slid your fingers back into her, this time with more force and speed than before. Natasha moaned, the sound vibrating in her chest as you pushed in deep, filling her completely. Her walls tightened around your fingers, clenching with each thrust as you built up a rhythm that left her gasping, her hips rocking back against you. Her body was a mix of heat and tension, the friction of your skin against hers heightening every touch, every sound.

“More,” she whispered, the word slipping out like a plea. “Please… I need more.”

The raw need in her voice spurred you on, and you complied without hesitation. You could see how much she was aching for it, her body craving the kind of release that came not only from pleasure but from being overwhelmed, from being taken. You angled your fingers upwards, finding that perfect spot deep within her, and began to stroke it with every thrust, sending sharp jolts of ecstasy through her. Natasha’s breath hitched, a choked moan escaping her lips as her hips bucked, seeking more of the relentless pressure you provided.

“Is this what you needed?” you asked, your voice low and rough as you watched her come undone beneath you. “For me to fuck you like this?”

Her response came in the form of a breathless cry, her fingers digging into the sheets as her back arched off the mattress. Her body trembled with each deep thrust, the wetness coating your fingers making each movement slick and easy, allowing you to pound into her at a brutal pace. You could feel the way her walls gripped you tighter and tighter, the pressure building up inside her like a coiled spring ready to snap.

Then, in one swift motion, you turned her over onto her stomach, and Natasha let out a surprised gasp as you pressed her down against the bed. You kept her legs spread, your hand slipping between her thighs once more, but this time your other hand slid up her spine, following the curve of her body until you were gripping her shoulder. The position allowed you to thrust even deeper, the new angle making her whole body shudder as you buried your fingers inside her, the wet sounds of her arousal filling the room.

Natasha whimpered, burying her face into the sheets as you began to pound into her from behind, the pressure of each thrust making her toes curl. The sensation was overwhelming, her senses consumed by the way your fingers drove into her, the roughness of your touch giving her exactly what she’d begged for. She pushed back against you, her hips meeting every thrust with desperate need, as if she couldn’t get enough. The force of your movements rocked her body forward with each plunge, and you could feel the way her muscles tightened, the tension building in her core with each deep stroke.

As you drove her closer to the edge, you leaned down, your lips brushing against her ear. “You look so beautiful like this,” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “Falling apart, just for me.”

Her body shivered at your words, her breath catching in her throat as a flush crept up her neck. You could feel the way she was spiralling, her control slipping away with every thrust, every stroke of your fingers inside her. And then, just as she teetered on the brink, you withdrew your fingers, only to replace them with your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat against her slit, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from her entrance to her clit, tasting the heady mix of her arousal on your lips.

The sound Natasha made was somewhere between a gasp and a sob, her body jerking in response to the sudden shift in sensation. You felt her thighs tremble as you dipped your tongue inside her, savouring the wet heat of her. Her taste was intoxicating, each flick of your tongue drawing out another moan from her as she pressed her hips back, desperate for more contact. You alternated between licking and sucking, your lips closing around her clit to draw it into your mouth before swirling your tongue over it, sending sparks of pleasure racing through her.

Natasha’s body tightened, her legs trembling as the pressure built to an unbearable peak, her orgasm finally crashing over her in a wave that left her gasping for air. Her moans were unrestrained, desperate, as her body shuddered beneath you, the intensity of her climax making her limbs quake. You didn’t let up, continuing to lap at her with slow, thorough strokes, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was completely spent.

As her breathing began to steady, you pulled back, allowing her a moment to catch her breath. Natasha's body lay limp against the bed, the flush still lingering on her cheeks, her hair a wild mess around her face. But even as the exhaustion settled in, you could see a renewed hunger in her eyes as she turned over onto her back again, reaching for you. Her hand slipped down to your thigh, tugging at you weakly as she whispered, “I… I want to taste you.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then obliged, positioning yourself over her. As you settled above her mouth, you felt a shiver of anticipation run through you. Her breath was hot against your core, the warmth of it making your skin prickle.

Natasha's tongue darted out, hesitantly at first, tracing a slow path along the inner curve of your thigh before moving higher. Her touch was unsteady, as if she was still recovering from her own release, but you could feel the eagerness in every movement as she began to lick at you, her tongue sliding over your folds, tasting the arousal that had gathered there.

The first real contact sent a jolt through your body, a sharp intake of breath escaping you as Natasha pressed deeper, her tongue curling upwards to tease your entrance. The sensation was electric, the wet heat of her mouth surrounding you, and you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan as she began to suck gently, her lips closing around your sensitive clit. She licked with a kind of desperation, her mouth moving in frantic, needy strokes that made your hips twitch involuntarily. You could feel your own release building, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter with every flick of her tongue, every gentle suck.

But then her pace faltered, her movements growing slower and more languid as the exhaustion pulled at her. You felt her head slump slightly, her breathing uneven. Acting quickly, you grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled sharply, your voice a low growl as you demanded her attention. “Natasha,” you said, a dark chuckle slipping past your lips as you looked down at her. “You’re not done yet.”

Her eyes fluttered open, filled with a renewed determination. You stroked her jaw, feeling the wetness smeared across her cheeks and lips before guiding her back to your core. “Keep going,” you instructed, your voice firm and commanding as you bucked your hips forward slightly. “You’re doing so well. Show me just how good you can be.”

The words seemed to ignite something in her, and she dove back in with fervor, licking at you greedily. Her tongue moved in long, deep strokes, lapping up every drop as if she were trying to devour you entirely. You could feel your own body trembling with the effort to hold back, the pleasure cresting higher and higher with each pass of her tongue over your clit, each eager suck. Your fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her movements as you rode the waves of pleasure, the sensation building to an almost unbearable peak.

The tight coil in your belly finally snapped, sending you tumbling over the edge into a mind-numbing climax. Your thighs clamped around her head, your moans spilling out uncontrollably as the pleasure coursed through you in heavy, pulsating waves. Natasha’s mouth never left you, her tongue continuing to stroke you through every spasm, every shiver, milking every last bit of your release until you were left trembling and breathless above her.

Natasha’s body moulded perfectly into yours, her weight a soft, reassuring presence as she settled against your chest once more. The aftershocks of pleasure still lingered faintly in her, and you could feel the slight tremble in her muscles as she curled tighter into you, seeking comfort. Her breath was warm against your neck, her chest rising and falling slowly, as if her exhaustion was finally overtaking her.

You stroked her back, fingers moving with practised tenderness, tracing small, soothing circles over the silky fabric of her bralette. Her skin beneath was flushed from the intensity of what had just transpired, the heat from her body sinking into yours. You could feel the subtle tension still in her muscles, the kind that came from more than just physical exertion—it was the emotional weight she carried, the one that had been gradually cracking through her tough exterior tonight.

“You’re okay now,” you whispered into her hair, your voice barely more than a breath. The words were simple, but you knew how much she needed to hear them. “I’ve got you, Natasha.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat, a low hum of agreement or maybe relief, her arms tightening around your torso as if she didn’t want to let go. “You’re always good to me,” she murmured, her lips grazing your collarbone with each quiet word. There was a vulnerability in her voice that was rare, as though she was allowing herself to drop her walls completely, if only for this moment.

“And I always will be,” you reassured her, your voice soft but firm. “Whenever you need me, for anything… I’m here.”

The weight of those words seemed to hang between you, not just as a promise but as something deeper—an acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you, shifting from mere friendship to something with far more gravity. Natasha tilted her head back slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded but searching yours, as though she was trying to understand why you were so steadfast, why you remained by her side even when she was at her most vulnerable.

Her lips curled into a small, almost fragile smile. “It goes both ways, you know,” she said, her voice low and still tinged with that post-orgasmic haze. “If you ever need… anything… anytime, I’m here for you too. I mean it. If you need to blow off steam, or… just… need someone to take care of you.” Her gaze flickered with an unusual openness, her green eyes catching the low light in the room. “I’ll always be there. For you.”

You felt your chest tighten slightly, a warmth blooming inside you at the thought of what she was offering, what she trusted you with.

“You’d be up for this… whenever?” you asked, a teasing edge to your voice, though your heart pounded a little faster at the idea.

Natasha nodded, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, clearly struggling against the heavy pull of sleep. “Anytime,” she whispered, her words soft and sincere. “Even if it’s the middle of the day… middle of the night… if you need me, I’ll be there.”

Your lips quirked into a soft smile at her honesty, feeling the significance of her admission. Your hand found its way to her cheek, gently tilting her face back to you. She gazed up at you with exhaustion and trust written across her features, her breath slow and steady, her body pliant against yours.

"Good to know," you murmured, running your thumb along her jaw, feeling her relax into your touch.

Natasha's eyelids fluttered shut as the weight of sleep began to pull her down, her body growing even heavier against yours. Just when you thought she’d drifted off entirely, she spoke again, her voice slurred with drowsiness. “Let’s… keep this just between us,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “No one else… needs to know.”

You pressed your lips to the crown of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. “Just us,” you promised, your voice low and soothing as you cradled her closer. “No one else has to know.”

Natasha gave a small, sleepy nod, her arms tightening around you as if clinging to the comfort you offered. “Good,” she whispered, her words barely audible as sleep finally claimed her. “Just… ours.”

As she drifted off, you continued to hold her, feeling the steady rhythm of her breath against you, your fingers still tracing soft patterns over her skin. You knew this arrangement, this shared need for each other, was more than just a temporary fix. It was a deeper understanding, an unspoken promise to be there in whatever ways the other needed—whether for comfort, for stress relief, or something more that neither of you was ready to name yet.

#romugh's kt '24 #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #bottom natasha romanoff #wlw smut #romugh slays #romugh writes #black widow #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson reader #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #nerd natasha

480 notes · View notes

pin-k-ink · 2 months ago

Text

BACK IN THE GAME ⋆✦⋆ hinata shoyo

synopsis ➸ fresh off a trip from brazil, hinata’s crashing at kenma’s place. the last thing he expected? being drawn to his old friend’s daughter

tags ➸ dilf!hinata, dad’s best friend trope (kinda), age gap, sexual tension, hinata and kenma have some tension between them (and it’s not the good kind), sorta ooc hinata, me mentioning his happy trail every five sentences, groping, dry humping, making out, biting, spanking, daddy kink, rough sex, blow job, face fucking, deepthroating/throat bulge, nipple play, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talking, kitchen sex, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, begging, hair pulling, manhandling

wc ➸ 16.4k 💀

The rhythmic pounding echoed down the hallway, rousing you from your half-doze on the living room couch. You frowned blearily at the Netflix menu awaiting your resumption, ears perking at the unexpected sound of knocking on your front door.

Glancing at the clock, you couldn't help but bristle at the late-night intrusion. Didn't these losers ever just take a hint and leave you alone at this hour? Your dad may have been a famous streamer in his heyday, but that didn't give creeps free rein to wander up to your doorstep at all hours.

"Dad?" you called out in a raised voice to no response. Typical. Kenma slept like the dead most nights these days.

With an aggrieved huff, you snagged your baseball bat leaning against the bookshelf and stomped to the entryway. Through the peephole, the shadowy figure of a sturdily built man loomed close to the door, hand still raised mid-knock.

"Yeah, whaddaya want?" you barked out bluntly before your apprehension could spike any higher.

A brief pause, then a warm, distinctly male chuckle reverberated through the thick wood. "Well now, that's one heck of a way to greet an old friend after all these years! Kenma didn't mention his daughter was so...feisty."

You arched one eyebrow, taking in the rich timbre of his voice - smooth velvet with a hint of rasp that sent an inadvertent shiver tracing down your spine. Repositioning the bat over your shoulder, you pulled open the door to face the mystery man fully for the first time.

And immediately had to tighten your suddenly slack grip on your improvised weapon, lest it go clattering straight to the floor.

This was no vagrant creep or overzealous groupie eyeing you predatorily in the dim lighting. The figure standing there exuded the sort of unbridled masculine charisma that conjured half-baked fantasies about a forbidden tryst with your hot older teacher from high school days. Only...magnified exponentially into the stuff of genuine wet dreams now rendered flesh.

From the tousled carrot-orange thatch to the sculpted musculature rippling beneath his well-worn shirt with every subtle shift, this man was the literal embodiment of tall-dark-and-smoldering personified. And those eyes - vibrant pools of rich amber that seemed to gleam with unbridled mischief even surrounded by the crows-feet and laughter lines of someone clearly on the wiser side of his prime.

You swallowed hard against the sudden dryness coating the back of your throat despite your best efforts. Forcing a disaffected look to the contrary, you shrugged carelessly and made a point of raking an appreciative once-over up and down his form as blatantly as possible.

"Yeesh, you sure this is the right house, old man?" you drawled, deliberately pitching your tone into a low lilt that never failed to rile up horny douchebags in the past. "Because if you were looking for a hookup with a hot young thing like me tonight, we both know you're seriously barking up the wrong tree, Daddy."

Rather than look suitably shocked or affronted by your veiled taunts, the rugged older man simply chuckled again - a rough, airy sound that raised goosebumps anew along your arms in a way that set your nerves thrilling dangerously. Those striking amber eyes positively gleamed beneath hooded lids as he regarded you with an inscrutable expression.

"I always forget how spirited Kenma's little girl grew up being," he mused, the low rumble vibrating straight through you. "But I promise you this - your old Uncle Shoyo would never disrespect you like that if he was looking for a good time tonight."

At those words uttered so casually, your breath stuttered dangerously in your lungs as the ground seemed to shift sideways all of a sudden. Jaw plummeting slack, you gawped at this stranger in your doorway with fresh awareness dawning.

"Uncle...Shoyo?" you echoed dumbly. Like the legendary Monster Generation volleyball star that your dad occasionally reminisced about in his youth? That Uncle Shoyo?

The man's bright smile widened to boyish degrees crinkles radiating outwards from the corners of those molten amber eyes that still somehow managed to glitter with devilish hints despite his mature age. "The one and only! Though I guess it would be more accurate to call me Uncle Hinata these days, now that I'm an old geezer in your eyes."

Before you could summon any further response, another rich baritone voice echoed from somewhere deeper in the apartment. "Shoyo? That really you?"

You pivoted instinctively with your jaw still hanging slack as the familiar silhouette of your father appeared around the hall corner - all tousled bedhead and barely-contained excitement shining from his pale amber gaze now.

"Kenma! It's me alright, just like I promised," Uncle Hinata—Hinata exclaimed, already ambling forward to enfold your dad in a tight embrace. "Brazil hasn't changed a thing, buddy. Still somehow managed to grow taller than you even after all these years."

"Oh please," your dad retorted without any real heat, hugging his apparent childhood friend in turn. "Says the guy who spent a whole decade getting brain damage in the sand just so he could keep jumping a few inches higher until retiring."

The two men - former athletic rivals turned coworkers turned...whatever their bond was nowadays - shared a laugh you felt utterly excluded from. In that suspended heartbeat, you couldn't help but rake your eyes over Hinata's tall, rangy frame once more in renewed scrutiny.

Somehow the man beamed with youthful vibrancy and rakish appeal you'd assumed impossible for someone your dad's age and station in life - everything from that windswept tousle of sunset hair to the laidback charisma radiating from his very pores like some eternal beach spirit entranced you dangerously.

"So you're really him...?" you murmured once your mental faculties finally rebooted with a jolt. "The infamous Ninja Shoyo that Dad never shuts up about?"

A strange mixture of relief and renewed intrigue flickered across Hinata's striking features as his molten gaze returned to you - flicking up and down your frame with unabashed appraisal that made you straighten self-consciously.

"That's me..." he drawled in that low, smoky timbre that plucked straight at something deep in your feminine hindbrain. "Though nobody has called me that kinda name in years now, [Y/N]. Hard to be a ninja master when the rest of the world grows up faster than you do..."

At the playful self-deprecation, his eyes crinkled in that way that did utterly sinful things to your rapidly pounding pulse you refused to examine too closely. You forced a scoffing sound, jutting one hip out in an artless sprawl you hoped came across as aloof rather than captivated.

"Well you sure made one hell of an entrance tonight for being a 'retired old geezer,'" you couldn't resist taunting, relishing in the way his intense amber stare remained riveted to you as the faintest curl teased the corner of that full, expressive mouth.

"I just don't see what the big fuss was about if you were really such hot stuff back then," you drawled, deliberately dipping into that same honeyed lilt that had always been Kryptonite for cocky douchebags in your vicinity before. "But then again...maybe you are a different breed afterall, Uncle Shoyo..."

You held Hinata's gaze steadily, refusing to falter beneath the renewed heat you could have sworn flared behind those penetrating eyes as your meaning registered with naked clarity in the space between you. Your heart hammered a wild, furious tattoo against your ribcage that you couldn't quite place or dismiss the implications of just yet.

All you knew in that suspended breath of charged silence was that no matter how or why, this particular worldly older man - one you expected you should still view in some detached, innocuous uncle-figure capacity - had effortlessly sideswiped your flustered wits and begged exploration of places you could never revisit unscathed again.

The tension only mounted as you hastily retreated to the kitchen, mind whirling while you prepared a tray of tea with shaky hands. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the burn of Hinata's lingering stare nor the visceral lure of his powerfully-built frame.

Unseemly thoughts crept in of how those strong hands might feel on your body - calloused palms mapping every dip and curve with rough insistence as he crowded you against the nearest surface. You bit your lip hard, imagining the scrape of his stubbled jaw branding your fevered skin while pinning you in place with that intense smolder alone.

By the time the tea finished steeping, you grabbed the tray and took a fortifying breath before heading back to the living room. Uncle Shoyo and your dad were settled on the couch, deep in familiar conversation that felt almost jarring in its animation compared to Kenma's usual reservation.

You hung back for a moment, surreptitiously drinking in the sight of the older Hinata with fresh, unfettered appreciation. The sleeves of his t-shirt clung to every flexing cord of muscle in his biceps and forearms with each emphatic gesture, straining in a way you refused to find tantalizing.

More distracting still was the fabric pulled taut across the defined ridges and hard planes of his abdomen - clearly outlining the intriguing trail of auburn hair disappearing into the snug waistband of his pants. You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming as you watched that obscenely fit torso undulate and stretch with every deep inhale and rich laugh rumbled free.

"Oh [Y/N], there you are," your dad's voice rang out abruptly, startling you. He frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as his gaze swept over your flustered expression. "Everything okay there? You look a little...feverish."

Heat flooded your cheeks as Hinata turned those scorching amber eyes towards you once more, shameless interest glinting from their depths. His stare raked over your form in a lingering, unabashed appraisal that made you want to squirm like a prize heifer on display.

"Hmm, you might be onto something there, Kenma," Hinata drawled in that low, rumbling timbre that sent tingles dancing down your spine. "She did look maybe a little worked up about something when she came back just now..."

"Uncle Shoyo!" you sputtered despite yourself, outrage burning away any lingering embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine, thanks for your concern."

Kenma continued scrutinizing you with that canny, assessing look he always wore when suspecting you were up to no good. You jutted your chin up stubbornly, meeting his stony gaze in wordless challenge until Hinata chuckled softly.

"Hey now, no need to get so riled up right off the bat!" he interjected placatingly, hands raised in mock surrender. "I was just messing around, [Y/N]. We're all friends here, right?"

You opened your mouth to retort, but faltered at the heated undertone of his words and the sly wink accompanying them. Kenma scoffed loudly then, scowl deepening as his focus swiveled to pin Hinata with an exasperated glare that promised retribution.

"Don't even try it, old man," your dad growled with an almost protective edge. "My daughter isn't one of those groupies constantly throwing themselves at your feet back in Rio, understand?"

Hinata laughed again, completely unbothered as he angled that hulking frame forward. His shirt rode up obscenely, revealing a tantalizing strip of tanned, toned abdomen you couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from despite your best efforts.

"Easy, Kenma!" Hinata rumbled, lush lips curved in a wicked grin that promised sweet sin. "I think it goes without saying that [Y/N] here is way out of an old beach bum's league. Was just messing around is all..."

He trailed off then, once more dragging his blatant perusal up the length of your body with liquid heat in his smoldering stare. You clenched your thighs instinctively, desire and outrage warring as your teeth dug into your lower lip to stifle any reactions.

The next few moments seemed to stretch into a thick, electrically-charged silence. You, your father, and Hinata simply regarding one another - the weight of unspoken tension and challenge thrumming through the air with every weighted pause. Until finally, you broke it by clearing your throat and stepping forward.

"Well, I brought the tea you wanted," you announced airily, like nothing untoward had just happened. "Then I'll be going to my room if you two want to keep reminiscing about the good old days."

"[Y/N]..." your dad started in a tone of clear warning, eyes narrowing as you stepped past their tangle of limbs on the couch to set the tray on the coffee table.

"Don't worry about it," Hinata interjected smoothly, rising to his towering height with languid, boneless grace you tried not to notice. "Your old Uncle Shoyo is probably overstaying his welcome as it is tonight."

He cast you one final, heated look from beneath lowered lashes, expression utterly inscrutable beyond the banked hunger simmering there. Then without another word, he turned and prowled towards the guest bedroom in a loose-limbed lope you tried desperately not to track too closely.

Only once his broad, muscular back disappeared from view did you let out a shaky breath. Kenma remained seated on the couch, radiating a silent but palpable displeasure and glaring accusation you refused to acknowledge directly.

So instead, you strode forward and leaned down to press a chaste peck to his cheek while avoiding eye contact entirely. "Goodnight, Dad. I'll see you in the morning."

Then before he could respond or break the tension hanging thick in the air, you spun on your heel and hurried to the sanctuary of your bedroom - every molecule buzzing with the unsettled aftershocks of Hinata's disarming presence so near.

Because as much as you tried to deny or bury it, his raw masculine vitality and promise of unshackled experience called to you on a primal, instinctual level. Echoing through your thundering pulse in a siren song of temptation you knew could only lead to utter ruination in its wake if you let your guard down...but that seemed increasingly inevitable with each passing second.

The next morning, you shuffled out of your bedroom in rumpled pajamas and messy bedhead, stifling a yawn. The memory of Hinata's unexpected arrival had already begun to fade into a vivid but surreal blur against the slate of your drowsy morning routine.

At least, until you rounded the corner into the kitchen and pulled up short with a sharp inhale. There stood the man himself - tall, broad-shouldered, and utterly shirtless, giving you an unobstructed view of his chiseled back flexing as he rummaged through your cabinets.

You felt your mouth go abruptly dry, gaze riveted to the tantalizing vee of muscle trailing down from his sculpted shoulders, dipping into the waistband of those low-slung sweatpants hugging his hips enticingly. Each subtle shift and roll of his powerful frame drew your hungry stare, unable to look away.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Hinata rumbled without turning around, as if sensing your presence instinctively. "Your dad said he had some company stuff to deal with early, so he stuck me with babysitting duty for now."

You blinked dazedly for a beat, still struggling to reconcile this morning vision of masculine glory before you. The crisp auburn hair tousled by sleep, the enticing glide of defined musculature shifting beneath tanned skin, the shameless confidence radiating off him in delicious waves...

Clearing your throat, you finally managed to find your voice around the lump of arousal lodged there. "I hardly need a babysitter, old man," you drawled in what you hoped sounded nonchalant. "Especially not from family friends who look closer to collecting social security than—"

Hinata finally turned then, bracing one hip against the counter and propping his arms behind him as those molten amber eyes swept over your body from head to toe in a single scorching appraisal. Your breath hitched at the lingering heat dripping off the heated rumble of his next words.

"Watch that smart mouth of yours before it really does get you into trouble, sweetheart," he crooned, lips curved into a wicked smirk that bordered on indecent promise. "You really think your dad asked me to stick around and play nice this morning?"

Despite your best efforts, your traitorous gaze couldn't help but skate over every taut line and definition of his exposed torso shamelessly. The crisp trail of auburn hair disappearing beneath those sweatpants seemed like an insistent beacon, taunting your curiosity.

Clearing your throat again, you forced your attention to the half-chopped produce on the kitchen island. With slightly shaky movements, you grabbed a knife and began working on the remaining ingredients to distract yourself from the living sexual fantasy just a few feet away.

"Well considering he pays the bills around here," you tossed out as breezily as possible, still not meeting Uncle Shoyo's stare directly. "I think it's pretty safe to assume your role this morning is closer to the 'creepy uncle nobody likes' end of the spectrum."

A low chuckle reverberated through the open kitchen, low and syrupy in a way that made your heart stutter. You risked a glance over to find Hinata's eyes utterly fixated on you now – devouring your every move as you brandished the sharp knife with utterly rapt interest.

"Whatever you say, pumpkin," he purred, shifting his stance subtly to cross one sinewy arm over his abdomen in a way that made all those flexing ridges pop in sinful definition. "But I gotta warn you, your little jabs don't exactly have the effect you think on me..."

Your mouth went bone dry once more as he raked that brazen stare over your sleep-tousled bedhead next, unruly mop and all. Then those full lips quirked in a way that made you want to simultaneously combust and punch him right in that shameless mouth.

"In fact, they kinda just make me want to bend you over this counter and teach you some proper manners until you're begging for mercy all night, sweetheart."

You almost missed the suggestive lilt at the end, abruptly choking as his words slammed into you like a physical force. The knife slipped in your grip slicing neatly into your thumb as a startled yelp punched its way free.

"Shit!" you hissed, sucking the shallow graze instinctively only to see a few glistening beads of crimson well forth.

"Whoa there, easy!" Suddenly Hinata was crowding into your space without any warning, large hand closing over yours to inspect the damage with surprising tenderness. "Let me take a look at that, [Y/N]."

Before you could respond, Hinata's hand was coaxing yours up towards those full lips with intent simmering in those hooded embers. You watched in stunned silence as his tongue darted out to swipe over the tiny wound in one long, heated glide—only to suck your thumb directly into the wet heat of his mouth with a low groan of apparent satisfaction.

Every muscle in your body instantly seized up at the erotic massage of his tongue swirling deliberately around the pad in a sensual slide. Watching those sharp cheekbones hollow with each languid pull, you felt the throb between your legs intensify to an almost painful ache of pure, thwarted need. But you seemed incapable of looking away, utterly transfixed.

Uncle Shoyo maintained searing eye contact as his dexterous tongue swiped over every nuance of your thumb with devoted reverence, chasing every copper tinge hungrily. Then with one final swirl that made you stifle a desperate whimper, he slowly released the digit from captivity with a harsh exhale – eyeing your swollen lips with naked hunger as a slick trail of saliva clung between you in an obscene string.

"Be careful now, beautiful," he rumbled in that deep, gravelly timbre that sank talons into your very core. His gaze scorched over your body once more as he stepped back slowly and ambled back towards the exit without a backwards glance. "I'd hate to have to really punish you next time if you keep taunting me like this..."

Then he was gone, leaving you standing there bereft and throbbing deliriously with frustrated longing in the empty kitchen. Because you knew deep down the provocative Uncle had just issued point-blank challenge and promise: that this was only the opening gambit in his heated pursuit, and he had zero intentions of backing down until you'd been claimed utterly.

Unable to resist any longer, you slumped back against the counter on trembling legs and slid one hand between your thighs with a desperate keen – already picturing Hinata's smoldering mug as you sought frantic release in his smoldering wake. Because despite your best efforts, you were now officially hooked on indulging in the forbidden byproducts of his unshackled virility – no matter how dangerous or ruinous the ultimate destination...

You barely made it back to your bedroom before collapsing against the door, legs trembling violently as the aftershocks of Uncle Shoyo's brazen stunt continued ricocheting through your veins. A whimper punched free as your thighs clenched instinctively, the memory of his ravenous stare haunting you as he slowly, purposefully released your thumb from captivity.

Heat coiled molten and liquid in your belly as you palmed your breasts roughly through the thin cotton tanks, thumbing over rapidly pebbling nipples. Squeezing your eyes shut, you could practically feel Hinata's searing presence looming over you once more - massive palms engulfing your curves as his calloused fingertips teased sensitive flesh with maddening patience...

Before you could surrender fully to fantasy's sweet oblivion, however, a strange urge gripped you. Almost frantic, you shed your rumpled pajamas and quickly rushed to the shower to freshen up before you busied yourself rummaging through your dresser and closet for a fresh dress to change into. You needed to get out of this house, away from the lingering fog of temptation still swirling thick and cloying after such an intimate morning encounter. At least for a little while...

Finally settling on a soft, breezy yellow sundress, you slipped it on hastily and attempted to secure the back tie yourself. But after several frustrating attempts, you realized with an inward groan that the ribbons were too tangled.

"Dammit..." you huffed under your breath, smoothing the front over your hips with rigid motions. You swept your gaze towards the vanity mirror, preparing to just gather your hair over one shoulder and let it hang for now.

The delicious expanse of tanned skin and flexing muscle that greeted you instead nearly sent you crashing to your knees with a dismayed cry.

There, leaning one broad shoulder against the doorframe and utterly at ease, stood Shoyo in nothing but those obscenely slung sweatpants riding sinfully low on his chiseled hips. Streaks of early morning sunlight gilded every defined ridge and hollow of his upper body in buttery warmth, licking over flaring biceps and the mouthwatering trail of auburn hair trailing temptingly beneath the loose waistband.

"You look like you could use a hand there," Hinata rumbled in that smoky baritone you were quickly growing addicted to hearing. Those molten eyes found yours in the mirror with delicious weight, smoldering openly now rather than even attempting to conceal the naked provocation simmering behind his heavy-lidded stare.

Despite the sudden lurch of panic kicking your heart into overdrive, you couldn't quite seem to tear your gaze from his inviting reflection hovering behind you. Drinking in the indolent sprawl of that powerful frame radiating unchecked masculinity and quiet dominion - like a supreme hunter casually awaiting its hapless prey's next stumbling move on instinct.

You swallowed hard but held his smoldering stare steadily, refusing to falter or acknowledge the way your nipples tightened beneath the silken fabric. Despite having watched on breathlessly while Hinata lapped at your thumb, relishing the debauched slide of his tongue over your heated flesh...something about his supreme confidence sprawled behind you now made it abundantly clear he could and would ruin any last vestiges of innocence left within you given half a chance.

"Just stay right there and let me get that for you, babygirl," Hinata purred in a low rasp that raised goosebumps rippling over your exposed arms and back.

Before you could so much as open your mouth to respond, he was slinking closer with that same predatory, liquid grace you'd witnessed in glimpses during the party last night. The air around you seemed to crackle and sing with electricity, only mounting higher as Shoyo's physical presence blotted out every other consideration entirely.

You held yourself utterly still as those large, calloused palms seared lines of blissful rapture wherever they grazed over your shoulders and waist from behind. Hinata deliberately braced one broad palm across your abdomen, exerting the barest hint of insistent pressure to pull your curves flush against his powerful torso in a silken slide you felt all the way to your molten core.

"You smell..." he growled thickly by your ear, breath fanning hot and teasing over the racing pulse in your throat as his free hand set about loosening the tangled ties at your back. "...like temptation itself, you naughty little thing..."

A piteous keen slipped free as Hinata's questing fingers completed their task, leaving the ribbons hanging undone as his palms skated back up to clasp your hips in a punishing, possessive vise. Those scorching pads scorched searing brands over the indentations of your hips, pulling you even harder against the intractable ridge of his cock notching between your trembling thighs in a single, uncompromising move.

Your lashes fluttered as the delicious pressure radiated white hot sparks dancing across your vision, mouth falling open around a shuddering exhale of helpless rapture. In the mirror, Hinata's eyes found yours swimming with naked hunger – the simmering embers of whatever tinder sparked between you last night rendered a roaring furnace in the wake of this morning's torrid duel.

"You gonna keep tempting me like this, pretty girl?" Hinata husked in a gravelly rasp dripping with promise and lingering challenge. "Or do you finally have the good sense to run now before you really earn yourself that punishment you've been courting so hard after...?"

With one final squeeze of warning that made your core spasm with empty ache, he slowly eased away and turned to saunter out of the bedroom without another word. You watched him retreat through the mirror's unforgiving reflection - powerless to do anything but gape and tremble wretchedly as the fog of his surroundings presence dissipated incrementally.

Yet this time, rather than any shaky sense of relief, you found your chest heaving with frustrated desperation and need. Because thanks to Uncle Shoyo's heated morning indulgence, you discovered an agonizing new truth:

You didn't just crave sampling the forbidden delights of his singular experience unfolding before you.

No, you utterly ached to immolate yourself completely in the smoldering rapture only he could bestow through sweet, rapturous ecstasy....or hellfire oblivion – so long as you drifted within orbit of his radiant intensity from this moment onward.

Some time later, you finally emerged from your bedroom in a dazed stupor - only to very nearly collide with your father striding up the main hallway towards you. Kenma pulled up short with a frown tugging at his features as his assessing gaze raked over your flushed, tousled state, and the frown deepened pointedly.

"Everything okay, [Y/N]?" he asked in that careful deadpan you knew meant a veiled accusation lurked beneath.

You shook your head in a vain attempt to clear the lingering afterglow clinging from your encounter with Hinata, tugging at the hem of your sundress self-consciously. "Of course, why wouldn't it be? I was just getting ready to go grab some fresh air—"

"Ah." The single syllable came clipped and flat from your father's otherwise impassive expression.

Several fraught heartbeats ticked by in heavy silence before Kenma shifted forward – not quite blocking your path, but radiating an undeniable command for your full, tempered attention nonetheless.

"Going somewhere with my old friend in tow, I take it?" His assessing stare remained level and unreadable save for the undercurrent of warning you recognized all too viscerally from childhood. "I thought we might have a... discussion about setting some ground rules first concerning his company here, [Y/N]."

Despite your frustration spiking anew at his paternal insinuations, you felt a hot flush of shame creeping up your throat. Try as you might, you couldn't meet your father's gaze directly as your mind flashed back in vivid relief to the exhilarating yet illicit thrill of Shoyo's sheer presence looming over you just minutes ago.

Seeming to sense your lack of response, Kenma finally allowed the first cracks to shudder across his typically stoic facade with a weary sigh.

"Look, ...your Uncle Shoyo might still joke and carry that same sunshine-kid energy as back then," he started evenly. "But the reality is he's still a grown man now, with...certain appetites and lack of restraint Hinata's always struggled with at times."

He paused to pin you with a searching, almost beseeching look that somehow made you feel even smaller and more transparent in his presence.

"I'm not saying to stay away from him entirely while he's staying here," Kenma went on more softly. "I remember how much you adored him back when you were little, and that bond means the world to him still."

He shifted closer then, reaching out to brush your disheveled hair aside with a tender yet firm touch that compelled your chin upwards instinctively.

"But I need you to understand that regardless of your...curiosities, your Uncle Shoyo inhabits a vastly different world of adult experience than anything you've had yet, sweetheart. One wrong seed planted could veer things down a dangerous path leading to hurt for everyone."

You shivered despite the gentle warmth and fondness radiating from your father in that infinitely precious moment. Because you recognized the stark sincerity behind his warning, and couldn't necessarily refute its validity after staring down the ravenous, unshackled hunger radiating from Uncle Shoyo's very presence earlier.

Still, even as you nodded mutely in acquiescence, a reckless splinter of thrill lanced through your core. Because now, having glimpsed the erotically-charged path being laid out before you both, you felt all the more determined to keep tumbling headlong and heedless into whatever deliciously ruinous aftermath awaited. No matter the cost or lasting implications...

The sudden, unexpected warmth of Kenma's hand cradling your cheek brought your awareness spiraling back sharply. Before you could quite process what was happening, he'd leaned down and pressed the softest, sweetest kiss against your forehead – just above the crease between your brows.

"Be smart, [Y/N]," he murmured gruffly against your hairline, eyes shining with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "And be back before curfew tonight too, you hear me? No exceptions this time."

Then he was brushing past you towards the front door, thick quiet settling in his wake like physical fog as you remained rooted to the spot. Utterly reeling between the rapidly conflicting currents of exhilarating temptation...and warning stark enough to make even your rebellious core quake in trepidation despite your best efforts otherwise.

You spent the day out with your friends, attempting and mostly failing to clear your head of the heated memories from this morning's encounter with Hinata. No matter where you went or what activity you immersed yourself in, phantom wisps of his smoky presence and provocative words lingered like an intoxicating fog.

On one hand, the lively chatter and antics provided a much-needed distraction from replaying his heated bedroom encounter over and over.

But on the other, your mind seemed to grind to a screeching halt anytime the conversation veered towards your houseguest's identity. Which, given how famous Shoyo Hinata remained in sporting circles thanks to his legendary athletic career, happened far more frequently than you were prepared for.

"Wait, wait...are you seriously telling me the Ninja Shoyo himself is crashing at your place right now?!" Mari, your most relentlessly thirsty friend, practically screeched after some sly prompting from the others.

You shot her a withering glare and mouthed for her to shut up even as the rest of the group devolved into giggles and raucous speculation over whether the confirmed bachelor was as virile and charismatic in-person as rumored.

"Oh come on, [Y/N]!" Aiko wheedled between bites of her burger, dark eyes gleaming mischievously. "You can't just dangle that kind of forbidden fruit in front of us and not expect us to beg for the details!"

Chewing your lip in embarrassed silence, you tried to tune out the rising din of increasingly risqué jokes and pleas to get them invited over for an audience with the legendary Hinata Shoyo. Phantom echoes of his deep, smoky rumble and intoxicating scent seemed to cling to the edges of your consciousness no matter how hard you tried shoving them away.

"At least get us a signed photo if you end up too chicken to let us meet him in person, you miserly brat!" Mari tacked on with a mock glare. "That'll be the closest I ever get to seeing total sex-on-legs unless I end up a cougar!"

Their laughter rolled on undeterred as you hunched further over your meal, cheeks burning and belly clenching with resurgent heat that had nothing to do with the food. Squeezing your thighs together surreptitiously only offered a momentary respite from the low, pulsing ache - one you tried studiously ignoring as well.

"Look, are you all done gawking and gossiping like vultures?" you sighed in fond resignation. "Because let's just say that if you met him properly, you'd realize my uncle is way out of all your horny little leagues..."

A fresh wave of cackling and raucous giggling met your faux-dismissive quip, spurring you to stand and begin making your excuses for the evening. Because despite your best efforts, you could already feel that reckless splinter of need and anticipation resurfacing in your gut at the prospect of returning home to your father...and his houseguest.

So you deflected the suggestive teasing and crude demands to invite Shoyo out properly, firmly refusing to think too hard on why the thought of sharing any part of Shoyo gave you pause. On some deep, instinctual level, you were rapidly becoming consumed by the urge to keep his unbound presence all to yourself from this point on out. Regardless of innocence or ruination that inevitably awaited in his merciless wake.

By the time you reached your neighborhood streets, the crisp night air helped settle your determination somewhat. One last chance to sidestep and avoid tumbling any further down whatever rabbit hole of depravity Hinata seemed intent on leading you both...

But then your apartment building's modest facade loomed into view with the lights still glowing in the windows, and you felt a strange gravitational lurch in your core. Like being reeled inexorably back towards the inescapable flames of illicit temptation despite your best efforts otherwise.

When you reached the front door and paused to let your pulse steady, the subdued sounds of a movie playing somewhere within gave you momentary pause. Maybe your dad was simply unwinding alone – granting you an opportunity to slip inside unnoticed and steer clear of potential pitfalls for tonight at least?

Only as your hand closed over the knob and you pushed the door open a crack, the rich timbre of Hinata's voice reached your ears – gruff and unmistakable in the entryway's dimness.

"Well well, look who finally decided to come back!" he called out in mocking tones. "Your poor old uncle was starting to think maybe you'd slunk off for greener pastures tonight after our fun little morning together earlier."

You froze in place with your heart abruptly lodged in your throat, berating yourself for not simply fleeing in the opposite direction while you still had the chance. But like a moth drawn to flame, you found yourself drifting further inside until the living room came into view.

There sat Shoyo, lounging at ease on the middle sofa cushion with one powerful arm slung along the backrest in apparent comfort. Weirdly, a blanket was draped across his lap – though you found your gaze drifting over the exposed vee of his shirt and every flexing cord of that tanned bicep with reflexive hunger before you wrestled your focus away again.

But it was the other person sitting opposite that really made your heart plummet into your stomach with dread. Your dad, Kenma, sat slouched in his usual armchair – dark eyes trained on the television with characteristic stoicism as he took in whatever movie was playing.

"Evening, [Y/N]," he spoke up evenly without glancing over. "Good timing – Shoyo and I were actually just thinking about putting on another film if you're interested in joining us?"

You opened your mouth, mind racing as you sought some reasonable excuse to demure and retreat to the safety of your bedroom. But before you could formulate a single syllable, Hinata had straightened upright on the sofa and fixed you with those smoldering amber eyes burning through the dimness.

"Actually, you know what?" he rumbled in that gravelly baritone that made your thighs clench reflexively. "I had something better in mind than another boring flick..."

Despite your sinking feeling worsening by the second, you watched helplessly as Uncle Shoyo rearranged the blanket pooled across his lap...then patted the cushion beside him in an exaggerated motion that would've been comically exaggerated in any other circumstance.

"Why don't you bring that cute little butt of yours over here and make yourself comfy next to your favorite uncle for this next one, hmm?" he purred, not even trying to disguise the open insolence and provocation dripping from his every word. "We can kick back...you can cozy up right here where I can keep an eye on you staying out of trouble like a good girl..."

The blatant, unrepentant innuendo left zero ambiguity over his true intentions. Despite your best efforts to shore up your beleaguered senses, you felt your face flushing hotly and palms growing damp with visceral thrill racing in your veins. Because no matter how stern your father's earlier warnings had been...this was Uncle Shoyo boldly commencing his dogged pursuit anew right out in the open.

You shifted uncertainly on your feet for a moment, caught between Shoyo's provocative invitation and the mounting tension radiating off your dad beside him. The living room suddenly felt unbearably charged, rife with unspoken challenges and wordless dares testing the fraying threads of propriety permeating the air.

Just as you opened your mouth, still grasping for some semblance of stable footing, Kenma's measured baritone cut through the hush with deceptive mildness.

"Actually, [Y/N], why don't you go ahead and get changed into something more comfortable first?" he suggested without tearing his gaze from the television screen. "No sense being all dressed up if we're just lounging around and catching up on crappy movies together."

The pointed emphasis on that last part hinted at unspoken layers simmering just beneath the surface of your dad's composed demeanor. You darted a fraught look between both men, but Kenma steadfastly refused to meet your gaze while Hinata...

Well, Hinata simply sat back with that same searing intensity blazing from his heavy-lidded eyes, lips quirked in the barest hint of a self-satisfied smirk you already recognized meant danger. Despite the veneer of this wholesome father-daughter scene being painted before you, the undeniable insinuation of his unabashed perusal made you clench your thighs together instinctively.

"You heard the man," he rumbled, syrupy timbre dripping with implicit promise. Uncle Shoyo's tongue dragged over his lower lip with exquisite leisure, drawing your rapt focus there like a moth to flame. "Don't keep your favorite uncle waiting too long now, sweet girl..."

Kenma shifted infinitesimally then, casting a weighted look of silent warning in Hinata's direction before your dad finally relented and turned towards you fully. Despite the careful blankness written over his features, something simmered and roiled in those pale, flinty depths when he held your gaze with quiet gravity.

"Take your time," was all he murmured with clear emphasis, expression giving nothing away.

You felt distinctly as if you were being weighed and measured against forces rapidly spiraling beyond your ability to anticipate or control. Despite the mounting vertigo gripping your senses, leaving you adrift, a spark of reckless determination lanced through the fog.

With a tight nod, you drew a fortifying breath and spun on your heel without a backwards glance – stoically ignoring the heated undercurrents still crackling along your exposed nape from Hinata's ravenous scrutiny. This morning may have shattered the last vestiges of innocence ushering you along a dangerous precipice with Hinata...

But tonight, some primal instinct whispered darkly, tonight you were well and truly teetering upon that razor's edge with nowhere to go but fully losing yourself to the sweet, ruinous oblivion now inevitable on the other side.

The rote motions of changing into a loose cotton sleep set blurred into a trance-like haze as you moved through your bedroom mechanically. Every nerve was hyper-tuned for more veiled warnings, another blazing gauntlet thrown down anew to tempt or dismay you from your unraveling trajectory.

But deep down, you understood the futility in feigning obliviousness any longer. Not after Hinata had plunged you into the rapturous crucible with his touch, his taste, his ravenous gaze marking you in a way that could never be unmade or forgotten henceforth.

All that remained was answering the final summons echoing amidst your thundering pulse with honesty...and letting the aftermath of indulgence or consequences tear you both asunder into oblivion if need be.

So when you re-emerged from your bedroom in a fresh white ribbed tanks clinging to your curves and miniscule sleep shorts leaving little to imagination, you met Shoyo's searing amber stare levelly. His broad chest expanded fractionally around a harsh inhale, swirling embers of naked desire and insatiable longing burning behind those hooded eyes clear as day.

Even as you made your way closer, edging around the coffee table until within arm's reach of the back of the sofa where he reclined awaiting you, you refused to falter. The indolent sprawl of Hinata's powerful, chiseled form seemed utterly at odds with the palpable, carnivorous threat radiating off him now in molten waves.

You paused there, petrified beneath that searing, loaded stare raking over every bare inch of your silhouette without a shred of shame or restraint. After several suspended heartbeats dripping with escalating tension, Uncle Shoyo shifted imperceptibly. His free hand dragging the blanket aside to reveal bunched sweatpants and a blatantly obscene tenting of the fabric that made your mouth go bone dry around a whimper.

"That'll do just fine," he rasped in a guttural rasp that sent a frisson of electric heat spearing between your clenching thighs. One calloused fingertip crooked lazily, beckoning you closer with arrogant expectation gleaming from his heavy-lidded gaze. "Now get that sweet ass over here where I can keep you close and out've trouble beside me, pretty girl..."

Twin jolts of panic and exhilarating arousal lanced through you simultaneously at the naked provocation. Because even filtered through the dim lighting, you glimpsed the engorged shape promised beneath the thin material and knew without doubt what sort of wanton claiming Uncle Shoyo had in mind for you tonight.

Yet despite the adrenaline screaming through every cell, fueling your instinctive urge to flee, you felt an even deeper, more primal compulsion tugging you inexorably forward until your senses were bathed in his smoky, alluring presence. Hinata radiated unshakable dominion and leashed force, even slouched indolently before you like a serpent coiled to strike at any moment.

"Sho..."

The single hoarse syllable of warning hissed from behind made you flinch despite yourself. You whipped your head to find Kenma staring at the both of you with a stern, paternal gaze - everything about his rigid posture radiating the quiet yet firm protectiveness you recognized so viscerally.

Rather than match your father's intensity head-on, however, Hinata simply exhaled a low chuckle that seemed to reverberate through the charged space between you in a delicious rasp. You watched, utterly transfixed, as he straightened up and shifted the blanket aside in one fluid movement.

"Easy there, Kenma," he rumbled with that infuriatingly roguish half-smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "You know me better than that. I'm not about to go tarnishing this homecoming and ruin my chances at more of your lovely daughter's..." His gaze raked over you with blatant heat. "...delightful company while I'm in town."

Despite the distinctly provocative undercurrent still simmering in his tone, Hinata seemed to deliberately soften the edges in a show of placation towards your father. You felt the simmering tension ebbing incrementally even as fresh exasperation flickered behind Kenma's carefully schooled expression.

"For old time's sake, fine," your dad relented at last through gritted teeth. His pale eyes found yours with weighted meaning etched into the stony planes of his visage. "But one more toe across any line here, Shoyo, and you're out on your ass before your old bones can even try spinning another excuse. [Y/N] isn't some naive little girl anymore, either."

The naked warning laced beneath that last softly uttered statement wasn't lost on either of you. Logically, you knew Kenma was trying to shield you from potential hurt or missteps in whatever unspoken exchange unfolded before you. But at the same time, you bristled instinctively at the implication you required such explicit paternal protections - no matter how well-intentioned.

Before you could unpack the bristling mixture of gratitude and indignant frustration any further, however, Hinata cleared his throat meaningfully. When your focus snapped back towards him, he simply crooked one finger in a beckoning 'come hither' gesture that raised your hackles anew despite the clear invitation tingeing his amber gaze with yearning heat.

"Well? C'mere and park that sweet little butt already, kiddo," he rasped, patting the couch cushion beside him once more with exaggerated insistence. "Promise to keep my hands where you can see 'em for now if that'll ease your dad's worries some..."

The blatant implication behind his easy words and rumbling timbre was not lost on you in the slightest. Kenma shifted in his armchair with a weighted sigh somewhere between exasperation and fond resignation you recognized all too well. He was placating Shoyo's incorrigible provocations for the moment - not out of obliviousness, but rather mindfulness of allowing both of you a fragile pretense to navigate whatever inevitability loomed ahead.

So you exhaled a steadying breath and made your way across the living room without faltering any further. Despite the scorching simmer radiating from Shoyo's simmering mug as he tracked your approach with utterly unabashed hunger, there remained an undeniable flicker of warmth and tenderness burning behind the primal furnace in those rich depths you'd come to crave. Reassurance and promise alike, vowing he had no intentions of treading upon the sacred boundaries of your father's trust without permission first.

Instead of claiming the cushion directly beside him as originally beckoned, however, you settled primly on the outer edge of the opposite side. Leaving a respectable yet still charged gulf between your forms that both men seemed to silently recognize without verbal acknowledgement. Kenma grunted something unintelligible but otherwise maintained his silence as the weight of expectant tension clung to the air like humid fog. For his part, Hinata’s nostrils flared ever-so-slightly as he drank in this fresh recalibration through hooded eyes - once more adjusting his restless body language until every coiled inch radiated perfect nonchalance and ease despite the undercurrent still humming between you both like a plucked string.

"Well alright then," he husked out at last once satisfying whatever internal calculations measured your positioning as acceptable - for now. "How 'bout I kick us off with something a little light to set the proper mood before getting into the heavy stuff, huh?"

Kenma exhaled an audible scoff as Shoyo thumbed the remote, queuing up some random movie or TV show with practiced ease while slinging one arm over the back of the couch cushions in an artless sprawl. Pointedly avoiding fixing you with any further heated looks, but leaving little ambiguity how aware he remained of your presence like a physical magnetized force beside him.

You swallowed hard despite yourself, painfully conscious of every tantalizing inch between your bodies and the delicious masculine presence rolling off Hinata in waves once more. He may have dialed back the overt provocation for the moment...but that inexorable undercurrent still thrummed with blistering promise of the untamed pleasures lying in wait should you falter further into his orbit tonight.

Almost against your will, electricity zinged along your nerves with each subtle shift and adjustment of his powerful frame beside you. Muscles flexing, fabric straining obscenely over the rigid outline of his cock bunching the sweatpants in teasing hints of his devastating endowment. You squeezed your thighs together hard enough to feel the dig of your nails embedding crescents into your palms, warring desperately with the reckless compulsion to simply throw yourself over his lap without shame or hesitation and indulge whatever incendiary rapture could be had here and now while within reach.

When Shoyo finally settled back fully with a contented grunt, you risked a sidelong glance and immediately felt your breath catch at the heated smolder awaiting you from those heavy-lidded amber depths. His tongue flicked over that full lower lip in a slow, indulgent glide that punched the breath from your lungs before Hinata even rumbled a single syllable.

"Just making myself comfy too, little minx," he murmured in that low, liquid rasp drenched with sinful promise despite his guileless expression. You shuddered despite your best efforts as his gaze dragged over every inch of you shamelessly before fixing on your parted lips with ravenous focus. "No need to go getting all worked up on me...not until we're good and ready to really blow off some of that tension proper, that is."

Your mouth went bone dry as his blatant implication crashed over you in molten waves, stoking the already swirling embers suffusing your limbs and core alike into wildfire ecstasy despite your best efforts. Yet before you could muster even a token protest, Shoyo quirked that same wicked half-smirk of his and deliberately settled back to focus on the film playing out before you.

For a merciful stretch, the only sounds permeating the dim living room came from the television's muted dialogue and occasional commentary muttered between your dad and Uncle Shoyo. You sank further into the plush cushions, knees pulled up to your chest in a subconscious show of self-preservation from the magnetic force radiating off Hinata's form beside you.

Despite his surface placidity now that the films were rolling, you could practically feel the heated undercurrent of his focus sweeping over you in lingering, liquid caresses – drinking you in from the corner of his vision like a serpent savoring its lure. The same leashed intensity and dominance promising utter rapture in the right circumstances from the very marrow of his bones.

You shivered despite the warmth of the room, senses still humming from his earlier provocations and insinuations sizzling in memory. The fleeting image of his thick, mouthwatering cock tenting the front of those sweats flickered behind your lids with maddening clarity. Stoking the delirious compulsion to reach out and caress, grip, indulge the intoxicating mysteries promised beneath with shameless abandon—

Just as you felt your restraint slipping further towards cataclysmic surrender, the unmistakable weight of Hinata's palm settled over your kneecap with searing possession. You flinched bodily but remained rooted in place, breath catching in your throat despite your best efforts.

"Easy, kiddo," he rumbled without shifting his gaze from the screen, somehow pitching his smoky undertones low enough to avoid disturbing Kenma's engrossed state. "You're looking a little tense over there...lemme help you loosen up, hmm?"

With maddening leisure, Hinata's large palm began smoothing up the sensitive expanse of your inner thigh with heavy insistence. You bit back the whimpering keen that immediately welled up, casting a wild glance between your dad's oblivious form and the man openly caressing your bare flesh so brazenly now. Yet not a flicker of reaction showed in Hinata's cool countenance apart from the subtle curve of that infuriating half-smirk ghosting his chiseled profile in the dim lighting.

You squeezed your eyes shut and fought for some semblance of composure as those rough, calloused fingertips mapped higher over your straining hamstrings. The unbearable heat of Hinata's touch seared lines of rapturous bliss through your veins with every teasing inch relinquished until you felt his knuckles graze the hem of your minuscule shorts threateningly.

Just when you thought you might vibrate out of your own skin from the maddening denial coupled with raw primal need, Hinata suddenly withdrew his hand from between your trembling thighs. You risked a single wild peek towards those simmering amber eyes, mouth parted around a desperate plea, only to suck in a harsh breath.

Because Hinata was already twisting upright on the cushion, seemingly ready to rise and depart your coiled position after reducing you to a melted puddle of longing desire. Before you could summon even a meager syllable of reproach, however, his powerful frame angled fully towards you and those devilish eyes trapped you utterly beneath their hooded, Scorching Gaze.

"Have a good night, sweet girl," Hinata husked with sinful roughness that made your core clench deliriously. In one dizzying blur, he dipped down to ghost his lips over your tingling, parted mouth in a blistering almost-caress brimming with unbearable erotic promise. "Try and get some rest after that little warm-up session...because you and I both know I'm nowhere near done indulging my sweet tooth for you proper yet, baby."

Just like that, he straightened up and sauntered from the living room before you could even hope to recover from his relentless provocations. Leaving your reeling in his smoldering wake, swaying dazedly from the delirious whiplash of rapture and untamed yearning still ricocheting through your veins like molten lightning.

When you finally mustered the wherewithal to meet your father's gaze once more, Kenma pinned you with an inscrutable look from across the quiet space. For several fraught heartbeats, neither of you spoke or moved a muscle – hovering on the periphery of whatever unspoken undercurrent now shuddered between you in the aftermath of Hinata's brash moves tonight.

"You should go on up to bed, [Y/N]," he finally rumbled evenly, features schooled into a careful blankness you knew better than to mistake for complacency. "There's no need for you to get further tangled up with whatever your uncle is trying to play at here tonight, kiddo. Get some rest while you still can."

Despite the searing weight behind his words, Kenma refused to meet your questioning stare directly. Almost as if he already knew precisely where your treacherous thoughts ultimately lay in the wake of Hinata's scorching ministrations...and wished to avoid acknowledging the truth staring you both in the face any longer.

Because in the end, you realized with fresh crestfallen resignation, your dad would never fully reckon with the gravity of what Hinata was igniting between you – much less grant tacit approval to see where the smoldering ashes might lead henceforth. Even if it meant witnessing you surrender yourself over to devouring rapture entirely and without reservation from this moment onward...

Over the next few days, Shoyo seemed to revel in keeping you teetering perpetually on the edge of sheer frustration and desperate arousal. Whenever the two of you found yourselves alone, whether briefly in passing or for snatched interludes, he radiated casual nonchalance and ease.

Yet his every glance, murmur, or teasing brush against your side dripped with the same primal undercurrent of restrained hunger simmering just beneath. You quickly discovered Hinata possessed a diabolical talent for igniting your senses into overdrive with little more than a heated look or suggestive comment virtually imperceptible to any casual observer.

He'd catch you off-guard in the kitchen with that smoldering gaze dragging over your body with open appraisal before rasping some ostensibly innocent quip about needing to "cool off" that made your thighs clench instinctively. Or fold his large, calloused hands around your hips from behind while reaching for something overhead - the scorching bulk of his chiseled frame molding against your backside in a delicious grind before withdrawing as casually as if nothing untoward occurred.

More maddening still were the heated glances and subtle lip-licking gestures Hinata indulged whenever your paths crossed in random hallways. His tongue would drag over those plush lips with exaggerated leisure, hooded gaze promising rapturous sin as you fought not to squirm like a prize filly on display.

Sometimes you wondered if the expert teasing was intended as punishment for not surrendering fully to his rapacious desires that first night. Other times, the agonizing compulsion to fling yourself bodily at Uncle Shoyo and beg for release became so overpowering you found every shred of self-control straining not to give in.

And through it all, your dad remained oblivious - too preoccupied with long work hours down at his office to pick up on the delirious tension humming between you and his houseguest. Leaving you utterly unguarded to endure Hinata's shameless flirtations and provocations without interference, until the entire apartment felt saturated in an erotic, static charge ready to detonate at any moment.

When Kenma did happen to be around, Hinata maintained a guileless facade of easy friendship and casual indifference around him. No hint of the lascivious teasing or ravenous heat frequently ignited whenever you two were alone. Leaving you silently reeling and doubting your ability to endure the breathless free-fall into either bliss or ruination promised in his molten stare much longer...

You tossed and turned restlessly in your bed that night, sheets tangling around your legs as you fought against the endless swirl of unbidden thoughts and desires tormenting your exhausted mind. No matter how you tried to clear your head or will your frazzled senses into oblivion, the same searing flashes kept replaying in vivid detail.

Shoyo's powerful frame looming over you, those intense amber eyes burning with naked hunger while calloused palms mapped every curve and hollow with insistent possession. The way his tongue would dart out and trace his full lips in a slow, taunting glide that made you ache with thwarted longing. That low, rumbling timbre swirling like dark velvet through your core whenever he rasped some molten insinuation dripping with sin...

You released a shuddering exhale into the stillness, sweat prickling along your nape and lower back as liquid need unfurled between your tightly clenched thighs yet again. Wetness seeped through the sparse fabric covering your overheated flesh, only fueling the delirious spiral towards capitulation threatening to unhinge your last vestiges of restraint entirely.

With an impatient huff, you shoved the tangled bedding aside and sat up - realizing that sleep, let alone any semblance of inner peace, was utterly forfeit tonight. Not while Hinata's intoxicating aura and tantalizing promise lurked within such maddeningly tempting reach under the same roof, catalyzing your deepest longings with effortless expertise.

Maybe retrieving a cold drink or nighttime snack would temporarily dull the scorching inferno smoldering through your limbs enough for coherent thought to prevail?

You slipped from your bedroom as quietly as possible, bare feet padding across the hallway towards the kitchen's dim glow. The silence reigned heavy and leaden, broken only by your shaky inhales and the muted hum of the refrigerator as you pulled it open with a soft creak.

Peering inside, you allowed the soothing chill to wash over you in waves while your eyes slipped closed blissfully for a precious handful of seconds. Some of the raw, reckless tension eased fractionally from the reprieve of chilly air ghosting over your sweat-damp skin and feverish nerves - at least until a quiet throat clearing shattered the fragile peace.

Your eyes flew wide, heart leaping into overdrive as a startled shriek lodged in your throat. Before it could tear free with enough force to wake the dead, a massive palm clapped firmly over your mouth while the other arm snaked around your midsection to immobilize you completely. The scorching planes of a powerful chest pressed flush against your back, swallowing you up in a masculine heat and presence so intoxicating, so overwhelmingly familiar that the fight instantly left your body in a boneless slump.

"Shhhh...hey, it's just me, kitten," Shoyo's husky rasp tickled the shell of your ear as he pulled you tight against his virile frame. Every syllable seemed to vibrate through you down to the delicious slide and flex his raw physicality shifting behind you with predatory grace. "Easy there, I'm not trying to scare you."

You managed a trembling nod against his broad palm, eyelids fluttering despite the rising current of panic and arousal sparking deliriously across your nerve endings. Gradually, Hinata eased the steel bands of his hold, allowing you to pivot and face him properly within the tight confines of his inescapable orbit.

There he loomed in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants hanging sinfully low on those chiseled hips, fresh from sleep by the looks of his tousled ginger thatch and drowsy bedroom eyes. You swallowed hard while drinking in the sight of his defined torso and powerful shoulders bracketing you - close enough for the humid puffs of his breathing to feather over your parted lips with every exhale.

"What are you doing prowling around at this hour, sweet girl?" he husked out, searching your flushed features with smoldering intensity you already knew was a precursor to much darker, breathless indulgences on the horizon. "Surely you weren't thinking of sneaking off without me again after our last little encounter?"

Your cheeks flushed hotly at the blatant insinuation, eyes darting down to the utterly obscene tenting of his pants now on full display without an ounce of shame or restraint. The thick ridge of his cock straining there seemed to twitch in delicious invitation, spurred by your hungry stare alone.

Your mouth went bone dry at the unbidden urges surging through you in roiling waves. The maddening temptation to simply sink to your knees and indulge your starving curiosity with lips, tongue...mouth yielding in utter obeisance flooded your every synapse without compunction now that opportunity knocked so brazenly.

Almost against your will, you found yourself inching incrementally closer until Hinata's smoldering presence utterly enveloped your overheated senses once more. The hunger, the scorching craving for just a taste of the forbidden pleasures he so unrepentantly dangled ever nearer soon blotted out every other earthly consideration beyond chasing oblivion through rapturous ruin entirely.

Just as you felt your restraint fraying to mere gossamer threads, Hinata cupped the nape of your neck in a searing brand while using his other hand to urge you backwards with insistent pressure. You remained frozen in place, utterly transfixed until his thumb lifted your chin upwards and those smoldering, hooded eyes captured yours in a mesmerizing trance.

"This isn't the time or place for that, baby," he growled thickly, the words rumbling through your core down to your drenched pussy between your quivering thighs in molten promise. "At least not until I've got you somewhere quieter...more private, hmm? Where I can really take my time ruining you by the end of this little midnight rendezvous..."

His calloused palm drifted lower to map the swell of your hip boldly before squeezing with exquisite possession. You arched helplessly into the delicious heat of his body pinning you against the fridge as Hinata continued rasping heated endearments over your feverish skin.

"I've half a mind to toss you over my shoulder and finally show you exactly what happens when you push a starving man's restraint too far like this..." His tongue darted out to blaze an electrifying path along the slender column of your throat, stoking the swirling embers into outright wildfire. "Have you screaming my name and begging to take every last fucking inch until you're left utterly wrecked and spent beneath me, sweet girl..."

You couldn't bite back the desperate whine that punched past your parted lips, even as you trembled in his unrelenting clutches and chills caressed your overheated skin from the open fridge. The aching vacancy between your clenching thighs throbbed mercilessly, liquid arousal flooding your pussy at each wanton promise slipping from Hinata's tongue.

Before you could summon the wherewithal to respond or surrender further into the rising tide of blissful rapture, Shoyo sighed heavily against your jawline. You felt the last fraying threads of tension suddenly ease incrementally from his uncompromising bulk confined behind you, until his palms smoothed over your hips in a gentle sweep.

"But I won't..." he murmured in that rumbling baritone somehow laced with the barest undercurrent of regret now. "Not without your full consent first, kiddo. That's the line I promised your dad I wouldn't cross..."

With aching deliberation, Hinata began extricating himself from where he caged you against the kitchen counters. Every subtle shift and retreat of his rangy, scorching frame sent a new frisson of loss prickling along your sensitized nerves - until he'd repositioned entirely behind you again with respectable distance.

You blinked dazedly for several suspended heartbeats, mind whirling from the roller-coaster of sensations still ricocheting through your limbs and core alike. When you finally mustered the courage to turn and face Shoyo once more, you found his stare guarded yet intense - still burning with the weight of visceral, undeniable yearning despite his display of restraint.

"You should probably head on back up to bed and try getting some rest, [Y/N]," he rumbled out lowly, running one hand through his wild bedhead in a gesture of reasserted nonchalance that rang hollow to both of you in the aftermath. "We can talk things out properly tomorrow after I've had a chance to cool off and think..."

Despite the gently-uttered suggestion, a daring splinter of molten want lanced through you at the weighty implication behind his parting murmur. Some impulsive, elemental part of your soul recognized this as the precipice you'd been hurtling towards all along: the choice to finally tumble into Uncle Shoyo's waiting inferno utterly and surrender whatever innocence remained...or reluctantly retreat from temptation's siren call.

He finally moved to slip back into the shadows—only for your hand to shoot out on pure reckless instinct, snagging his wrist in a vice.

Shoyo froze in place, chest swelling around a shuddering inhale that stirred the tendrils of hair fluttering across your flushed nape. Despite your bravado, you found your throat working convulsively as his piercing focus zeroed in on the fragile point where your thundering pulse danced below your jawline.

"[Y/N]..." he rumbled in that smoky timbre that made your core clench deliriously. "Don't go starting something here you ain't fully prepared to see through to the bitter end now, baby. 'Cause I promise you won't be leaving this kitchen the same sweet, blushing little minx you wandered in here as—"

"Please," you burst out in a desperate, trembling rasp before you could overthink the impulse further. Tears of frustrated yearning stung the corner of your eyes as you maintained your fragile grip on Hinata's wrist through sheer force of will. "Please, Uncle Shoyo...I can't—I need—"

You broke off in a piteous whimper despite your best efforts. Because how could you even begin to articulate the smoldering vortex of compulsion and visceral craving warring through your veins in the wake of his unapologetic provocation? How starved for his touch, his possession, his claiming rapture you'd found yourself since that very first night permitting him to infiltrate beneath your boundaries?

Hinata's chest heaved in visible effort, muscles tensing and bunching as his control clearly wavered on a razor's edge right alongside yours. Then with a low, guttural groan of surrender, he turned fully back into your space - allowing your trembling grip to capture his wrist once more as those smoldering amber depths searched yours from mere inches away.

"Okay, kitten," Shoyo rasped out at last in a voice gone ragged around the edges. "Okay...I hear you loud and clear now. And lucky for us both..."

His free hand snaked around the small of your back in one fluid yet inescapable glide, crushing your body flush against his chiseled torso with insistent possession. Despite your initial startled inhale, every fiber of your being instantly melted into the scorching heat and masculine power radiating from Hinata in molten waves of delirious ecstasy.

"...I would never in a million years dream of denying a sweet, desperate thing like you exactly what she so clearly craves from the very core of her being ever again..."

Those plush lips skimmed teasingly along your cheekbone, eliciting a shuddering sigh as your eyelids fluttered in utter surrender. Then Shoyo's sinful mouth ghosted a trail downwards, tracing the contours of your jaw and neck with such agonizing precision you nearly sobbed aloud from the unbearable ache of anticipation unfurling inside.

"So let's start this proper now, baby," Hinata murmured directly against the shell of your ear. You couldn't help arching against his frame like a bowstring as the low, sinful rumble washed over you - his hands already sliding down to capture and squeeze your hips with bruising force.

"You’re not going to call me uncle anymore, kitten," he continued with a sinful lilt. "And you're certainly not going to refer to me as Shoyo either. Not while I’m fucking you. Understand?"

Hinata's palm smoothed over your trembling flank before cupping your ass in an unmistakable act of dominance. You gasped out a broken mewl, only for him to hitch you tighter against his virile torso as you fought to keep from melting into an absolute puddle at his feet.

"When we're all alone together like this, you'll be calling me Daddy instead," he growled directly against your racing pulse, tongue darting out in a hot, electrifying stroke along your feverish flesh. "Is that understood, pretty girl?"

You managed a dazed nod, eyes slipping closed entirely as molten arousal coursed through you in heady torrents. Hinata clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, releasing your hip only to give your bottom a swift, resounding slap. You jumped at the unexpected impact, yelping as a new flood of liquid heat soaked through the already sodden fabric of your panties.

"Words, kitten," Shoyo husked against your fevered skin. "I need to hear the words. Are you gonna be a good girl and obey, or do we need to have a proper lesson before we move on to the fun stuff?"

A shiver raced down your spine as a fresh surge of liquid arousal spilled from your throbbing pussy, dripping onto the hardwood beneath you. You whimpered aloud at the scalding sensation, squirming within Hinata's steely grasp as he pressed a chiding kiss directly below your ear.

"I—I'll be good, Daddy," you gasped out at last. Your cheeks burned with equal parts mortification and wanton desire while Shoyo hummed his approval against your flushed nape, trailing hot kisses and playful nips all along the sensitive flesh.

"Mmm, I knew you'd make a sweet, obedient little angel for me, kitten," he murmured in that low, hypnotic rumble. One hand slid from your hip to trace the line of your spine, teasing along the hem of your tiny tank top with aching slowness. His fingers hooked around the fabric and began tugging it upwards, the pads skimming over the feverish expanse of flesh he gradually bared to the balmy air.

"It's just too bad your first lesson will have to be the roughest," he rasped directly against the shell of your ear. A frisson of raw anticipation rippled down your spine at the dark, dangerous undercurrent of lust that laced each syllable. "After all, we're long overdue for a proper punishment for how brazenly you've been taunting and teasing poor Daddy, don't you agree?"

The tank top soon flew into the darkness, leaving your quivering, exposed form in nothing but the thin satin of your panties. You couldn't help squirming under Shoyo's piercing stare and the searing weight of his touch as it skated back down to grip your bottom possessively.

"So, how does that sound, kitten?" he purred lowly, kneading the firm, supple flesh of your ass in his broad palm. You keened and arched against his towering frame, unable to resist the overwhelming compulsion to surrender every last scrap of your remaining dignity under his sinful ministrations.

"Punish me, Daddy," you whispered breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut as his thumb dipped tantalizingly beneath the soaked silk of your panties and brushed a feather-light stroke against your throbbing clit. "Want you to spank me, please..."

"Spank you? Now there's an offer I can't possibly refuse," Hinata replied with a dark chuckle. His palm smoothed over the swell of your bottom, the calluses sending delicious frissons of sensation zipping through your nerve endings with each passing stroke.

"But, I think it's only fair I give you a chance to make up for all that mischief and teasing you've put poor Daddy through first." His lips captured the delicate skin of your nape in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that made your toes curl against the hardwood. "What do you think, kitten?"

Before you could even process the question, Hinata's other hand abandoned your hip in favor of hooking one finger under the thin strap of your thong. He gave a swift, sharp tug that snapped the delicate lace and left the garment pooling at your feet in an instant.

You trembled with unabashed desire as Shoyo's gaze swept hungrily over the newly-bared expanse of flesh, his nostrils flaring and pupils dilating until his irises were nothing but thin rings of liquid gold. You could feel his thick, twitching cock straining against the sweatpants, and couldn't resist squirming back against his pelvis to draw a choked-off groan from the man pinning you.

"Mmm, you're soaked through, aren't you, pretty girl?" Hinata husked against your flushed, damp nape, his other hand still kneading the firm curve of your ass as he pressed forward. His cock grazed the seam of your thighs, sending a shuddering gasp tumbling from your parted lips as the aching vacancy between your legs throbbed.

"I can feel how desperate and empty you are for it, kitten," he rasped, giving your bottom a brisk, stinging swat. You gasped and jerked into his hips with a helpless whimper, eyes rolling back as another gush of liquid arousal dripped onto the floor between your legs. "Look at you, dripping like a little river and squirming like a bitch in heat, just begging for Daddy's cock to fill you up nice and tight..."

He rolled his hips in slow, torturous friction, cock catching against your drenched pussy and the underside of your clit until a wanton whine slipped from your lips. Then with a low, rumbling groan, Shoyo withdrew and took a deliberate step backwards - putting enough distance between the two of you to make the sudden loss of contact nearly palpable.

"But first we’re going to train that bratty little mouth of yours," he murmured huskily, reaching out to cup your chin and tilt your face upwards towards his. "Get on your knees, baby."

Your breath hitched and your knees trembled as the words registered. Even in your thoroughly compromised state, the implications sent a jolt of fear lancing through the molten haze of arousal clouding your brain. But, when you dared a glance back at Hinata's piercing golden stare, your heart skipped a beat and your pulse quickened at the raw, unbridled hunger etched into every hard line and angle of his features.

"Don't make me repeat myself, kitten," he murmured warningly, giving the supple swell of your ass a swift, stinging swat that had you squealing and stumbling towards him on unsteady limbs.

You sank onto your knees with a soft huff, blinking dazedly up at Hinata from beneath your lashes. He stood above you like a towering titan, silhouetted by the faint moonlight slanting through the kitchen window and the shadows enveloping the two of you. The sight of him, wild and feral and utterly irresistible, left your core clenching and your breath stuttering.

"Go ahead, baby," Shoyo urged you huskily, fingers skimming over the flushed, feverish skin of your cheek before tangling in your hair. "Taste Daddy."

You shuddered, eyes fluttering closed as his grip tightened and he began guiding you forward. There was a single, suspended moment of anticipation as you hovered just before the massive bulge tenting the front of his sweats. Then, just as you reached out to tug the waistband down, Shoyo halted you with a harsh tug on your hair.

"Ah, ah," he warned you lowly, eliciting a whimper of frustration from you that had him chuckling lowly in response. "You don't get to use your hands. Just your mouth, baby."

Heat rushed to your cheeks and a fresh flood of arousal pooled at your core, dripping down your thighs and onto the hardwood in a steady stream. You bit back a frustrated groan, squirming in his grasp as his cock twitched and throbbed beneath the cotton, mere inches away.

Then without allowing yourself another moment of hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right where the mushroom head strained the fabric. Hinata's breath hitched and his grip on your hair tightened, a low hiss of approval slipping past his clenched teeth.

You glanced up, meeting his burning stare with your own as you traced the outline of his cock with the flat of your tongue. The taste of salt and musk and him, all man and virile power, exploded across your taste buds. A shudder rippled through you, leaving your core clenching and dripping in the aftermath.

"Fucking tease," Hinata groaned, his eyes falling closed as you began mouthing at his clothed erection, the wet patch slowly spreading and growing more obvious beneath the force of your ministrations. "Get to it already, kitten."

He yanked you forward and you gasped at the sudden pressure against your mouth, squirming and shifting as he ground his cock against the seam of your lips. Your cheeks burned, arousal pooling deep in the pit of your stomach and spreading outwards like molten honey as the musky scent of his precum filled your senses.

Then finally, you caught the elastic waistband between your teeth and tugged it down, allowing Hinata's heavy, aching length to spring free at last. You blinked, momentarily stunned and dazed by the sheer, impossible girth and size of his cock as it bobbed before your face, droplets of precum glistening on the swollen mushroom head and a prominent vein snaking down the underside.

"Open wide for Daddy, kitten," Hinata husked above you, giving your hair a warning tug. You barely had time to suck in a desperate breath before he was thrusting forward, spearing between your parted lips and sliding along your tongue in a hot, thick slide of molten flesh.

A garbled moan spilled from you as his cock hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your vision go blurry. The salty tang of precum burst across your taste buds, only to be washed away as he withdrew in a slick, obscene glide and plunged back down with a guttural groan.

"Oh fuck, that's a good girl," he grunted, his hips setting a relentless pace as he fucked your mouth with abandon. You whimpered, tears streaking your cheeks and spit dribbling from the corners of your lips as the force of his thrusts rocked you on your knees.

Hinata's breathing grew labored, his muscles bunching and tensing as he pistoned into your mouth, chasing his own pleasure with a single-minded fervor that left you delirious with want. His cock throbbed and pulsed on your tongue, swelling impossibly larger and harder until you could hardly breathe past the sheer thickness filling every inch of available space.

Your hands scrabbled for purchase against his hips, fingers clawing into his flesh and digging into the ridges of his Adonis belt as he drove deeper into the tight, constricting tunnel of your throat. A strangled groan spilled from him, his pelvis snapping forward until his balls slapped against your chin and your nose was buried in the thatch of hair at the base.

"God, such a perfect fucking cockslut," he grunted, voice reduced to a ragged rasp that had you shivering and quaking with a fresh wave of liquid arousal. You whined in response, eyes rolling back as he slid down your gullet, the flared mushroom head forcing your throat to stretch impossibly wide around his girth.

Then suddenly, Shoyo wrenched your head back by the hair. You sputtered and coughed, gasping desperately for air as the string of spit connecting his cockhead to your mouth snapped and a trickle of saliva dribbled down your chin. Your vision was blurry and tears clung to your lashes, but the sight of Hinata's cock, flushed and gleaming and positively coated in your spit, made your core clench and ache with a renewed desperation.

"Such a pretty mess," he murmured, the pad of his thumb catching the rivulet of drool and precum and smearing it along your lower lip. You whined and leaned forward, trying to catch the calloused digit between your lips, only for him to yank it away with a chuckle.

"Not so fast, kitten," he admonished, releasing your hair and taking a single step backwards. You swayed on your knees, eyes following his movements as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them down in a smooth, sinuous glide.

The fabric fell in a rumpled heap at his ankles, leaving him bare and exposed in the moonlight. His cock jutted proudly from his pelvis, swollen and twitching and absolutely dripping with your saliva and an ungodly amount of his own precum. You licked your lips, the taste of salt and musk still lingering there, and squirmed where you knelt.

"You look so hungry, kitten," Shoyo said with a devilish smirk. He wrapped one large hand around the base of his cock and gave it a slow, deliberate stroke from root to tip. You watched, utterly mesmerized by the flex of his arm and the sinful glide of his fist, until the tip was once more dripping and you could practically feel the throbbing pulse against your tongue.

"But you know, I don't think you've learned your lesson just yet."

Before you could fully process the words, Hinata had seized your arm shoulders and shoved you back until your spine hit the cool marble of the counter. You yelped at the sharp, sudden impact, only to have the sound muffled by Hinata's cockas he leaned forward and stuffed your mouth full.

Your head thunked back against the marble and you whimpered around the heavy, thick length. Above you, Shoyo grunted and set a brutal, unforgiving pace as he speared past your lips and fucked into the tight, hands braced against the edge of the countertop and eyes dark and glinting.

You squirmed and writhed beneath him, eyes rolling back and a steady stream of saliva and precum dribbling from the corner of your lips. Your fingernails scraped at the hardwood, hips bucking and core clenching around nothing as his cock dragged along the flat of your tongue and plunged deeper than before.

"That's right, kitten," he husked, reaching down to grip the hair at the crown of your head. His pelvis rolled forward in a devastatingly deep thrust, drawing a choked gasp from you. "You take Daddy's cock so fucking well, like you were made for it, weren't you?"

A low, needy whine spilled from you, sending a frisson of vibrations racing up his cock. He hissed, head dropping and his fingers tightening to an almost-painful grip on your hair as his thrusts turned wild and frenzied. The wet slap of flesh on flesh echoed off the walls, mixing with the lewd squelch and slurp of your mouth and the ragged groans that tumbled from his lips.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—gonna cum, baby," he panted out, his movements growing erratic and the swell of his cock pulsing. The words were a trigger, sending your head spinning and your vision going hazy. You moaned, a fresh rush of arousal dripping down onto the hardwood between your splayed thighs.

Shoyo's hips snapped forward once, twice more, and then with a strangled, wordless shout, he pulled out and pumped his cock. His release shot in pearly white streaks, splattering over the hollow of your throat and the tops of your breasts.

You panted, blinking up at the ceiling as your head spun and a dazed smile curled the corners of your lips. His cum, warm and sticky, slid down the slope of your chest and between the valley of your breasts. But, the euphoric haze was shattered when Hinata's fingers slid around your neck, pressing hard against the sensitive skin as he squeezed and forced you to tilt your head up.

"Open up," he demanded, the head of his cock nudging against your lips and painting them with a thin sheen of his release. "Be a good little cumslut and clean me off."

You parted your lips and allowed him to push his softening cock past the seam, the salty-bitter tang of his cum exploding across your tongue. He held your head still as you swallowed, his gaze never once wavering from the sight.

"That's a good girl," he purred, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek. You whimpered, leaning into the gentle touch, only to have it vanish. "Now, on your feet. We're not done here yet."

It took you several long, painful moments to gather your wits and regain control of your limbs. Your thighs were quivering, weak and unsteady, and your mind was fuzzy. You staggered upright, clinging to the edge of the countertop for support, and glanced back up at Hinata.

He had stepped back, the golden halo of his hair glowing ethereal and unearthly in the moonlight and his eyes burning into yours. You shivered, feeling a fresh trickle of his cum slide down your chest and drip onto the floor.

"Look at the mess you've made, kitten," Shoyo drawled, a predatory gleam to his eyes and a devilish smirk curling his lips. "Such a naughty little slut, making a puddle on the floor and dripping with Daddy's cum."

His thumb swept beneath the curve of your breast, smearing the pearly streaks of his release over your flushed skin. He gathered up a thick dollop and pressed the calloused digit onto the sensitive peak, leaving you trembling and breathless as his thumb and forefinger closed around it and rolled the hardened nub between the pads.

"I think it's only fair that I clean you up in return," he murmured, voice dipping into a husky, sinful timbre. He leaned forward, his lips skimming over the sensitive shell of your ear and eliciting a full-body shudder.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, he was crouching before you and his lips were closing around the puckered nipple, lapping at the salty, musky cum with a low, rumbling groan. Your head dropped back, a garbled moan spilling from your parted lips as his tongue swirled around the aching peak.

Your knees quivered and buckled, but Hinata's hand clamped around the back of your thigh and held you in place. His other hand came up, his broad palm cupping the full swell of your breast and squeezing it. He flicked his tongue against the bud, sucking and laving and coaxing the bead to distend even further, before switching sides and repeating the motion.

"S-Shoyo, please," you whimpered, the ache and need between your legs growing more desperate and unbearable. "I-I can't, I'm gonna—"

His teeth immediately closed around the taut peak, sending a jolt of electricity shooting straight through to your core. You arched into the sensation, a garbled whine slipping past your lips as your hips bucked and ground against the air.

"Ah, ah," Hinata warned, lifting his head and meeting your gaze. His pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of molten gold encircling them. "That’s not how you address me, kitten. Be a good girl and try again."

Your stomach clenched and the ache in your core intensified, the molten pool of arousal spreading throughout every nerve-ending. You swallowed, a whine slipping past your parted lips as you squirmed and fought to form coherent words.

"D-Daddy, please," you finally managed, voice barely a whisper and hoarse and raspy.

"Please, what?"

You could see the way his eyes darkened, the gold flecks seeming to glow. It left you shuddering and quaking in the aftermath, your hips jerking and twitching as his gaze trailed over every inch of your flushed, heaving body.

"P-Please, fuck me," you whispered, cheeks burning and the shame and humiliation making you ache all the more. "Please, Daddy, I-I can't wait any longer."

A low growl, deep and guttural and primal, slipped from him. Then, before you could blink, he was standing and spinning you around. His hands landed on your shoulders, pressing you down until your cheek was flush against the counter and your ass was arched in the air.

"Don't move," he grunted, stepping back and giving your ass a resounding smack that had you mewling and squirming. You could hear him rustling behind you, the slick, obscene glide of his hand over his cock. Then, just as suddenly, his hands were on your hips and his pelvis was pressed against the curve of your ass.

"You want Daddy's cock, kitten?" he husked, the mushroom head slipping between your folds and parting them. He dragged his cock up and down, the blunt tip catching against your clit and the flared ridge rubbing against your swollen, hypersensitive folds.

"Yes!" you keened, back arching and hips grinding and trying to force him inside. "Yes, yes, please! P-Please, give it to me."

Hinata chuckled, his hand coming down in another punishing slap against the swell of your ass. You jerked and moaned, the sting and heat sending a fresh surge of arousal pouring down onto his cock. His cock twitched, the mushroom head catching against the rim of your entrance, and a low hiss spilled from his lips.

"Fucking slut, look how fucking wet and eager you are," he grunted. His hips rocked forward, the tip of his cock just beginning to breach your soaked, tight channel. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you, kitten? Just couldn't wait for Daddy to bend you over and stuff you full of his cock, huh?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, tears burning the backs of your eyes as the need became unbearable. "Oh god, Daddy, I-I've been such a good girl. Please, just—"

His hips snapped forward, the flared mushroom head of his cock splitting you open in a single, brutal thrust. You choked on a gasp, fingers scrabbling against the marble for purchase as a strangled moan slipped from your lips.

"Fuck, look at you," Hinata growled, his fingers digging into the flare of your hips and his cock buried to the hilt. He kept a firm grip on your waist, not allowing you to squirm or wriggle or try to adjust to his massive, pulsing girth, as he slowly pulled back until just the tip remained nestled between your folds. You were dimly aware of how your feet weren’t even touching the floor, how you were simply being held aloft by his bruising grip on your hips and the sheer, impossible size of his cock.

"Look at how easily you take my cock," he hissed, and then slammed back home with a wet, obscene slap. You cried out, eyes rolling back and blunt nails dragging across the countertop, as he set a ruthless, merciless pace.

"F-Fuck," you whimpered, the tears burning the backs of your eyes now trickling down your cheeks and mingling with the saliva dribbling from your lips. "S-Shoyo, please—"

"What did I tell you?" he growled, his pelvis slapping against the curve of your ass and driving his cock even deeper. He reached around, his fingers delving between the apex of your thighs and finding the swollen, aching nub there.

"You don't get to use my name, kitten," he hissed, his middle and ring finger sliding up on either side of the bud and pinching it between them. You squealed, hips jerking and back arching as the pleasure-pain had your head spinning and your vision blurring. "Now, let's try that again, shall we?"

"D-Daddy, please," you choked out, a sob tearing free as his fingers began to slowly, agonizingly roll the bundle of nerves between his fingers.

"Mmm, much better," he cooed, his tone soft and honeyed, though the brutal pace of his thrusts never faltered. His cock seemed to swell even more, the throbbing length spearing impossibly deep and drawing a garbled cry from you.

"God, such a perfect, pretty little cocksleeve," he grunted, his voice a ragged rasp as he leaned forward, blanketing his torso along your spine and pressing you down. The new angle sent the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot, forcing the air from your lungs and leaving you a sobbing, trembling mess.

"Gonna fill you up, kitten," he groaned, lips skimming over the curve of your ear and his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin. You shivered, hips arching and thighs quivering and core clenching, and a desperate mewl spilled from your parted lips.

"Is that what you want, baby? Want Daddy to stuff you full and paint your pretty pussy white?"

"Yes, yes, oh god, please," you babbled, the words tumbling freely and incoherently from your lips. Hinata grunted, his hips snapping and the drag of his cock against your g-spot sending sparks skittering across your vision.

"Fuck, gonna cum, kitten," he panted, his lips moving to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the curve of your jaw. He reached up, his large hand curling around the column of your neck and squeezing. You felt your eyes flutter, a high, keening cry slipping from your lips, and a moment later, you felt his teeth close around the tender flesh where neck met shoulder.

He slammed his hips forward one final time, and the pain of his bite coupled with the unrelenting assault of his cock, his fingers, was too much. Your release hit, hard and sudden, and it tore a strangled scream from your throat. Your eyes rolled back, limbs seizing and spine arching as the pleasure washed over you in an unending torrent.

Dimly, distantly, you felt Hinata's teeth release their hold, and then he was groaning and his cock was pulsing and twitching as his cum painted the inside of your walls white. The flood of his release was enough to prolong your own orgasm, sending another wave crashing over you and leaving you choking and gasping.

Hinata slumped forward, his weight pinning you to the counter and his cock still nestled deep inside you. You could feel the slow trickle of his release and your own arousal slipping from between your folds and coating the insides of your thighs, but you were far too exhausted and fucked-out to care.

His lips skimmed over the marks left by his teeth, and he slowly straightened. You whimpered at the sudden movement, the stretch and shift of his softening cock still lodged inside. His hands stroked soothingly up and down the expanse of your back, fingers dancing across the knobs of your spine and his lips brushing feather-light kisses along the curve of your shoulder and the slope of your neck.

"I've got you, kitten," he murmured, his tone soft and gentle, in direct contrast to the way his cock was still splitting you open and his cum was still leaking out around it. He eased off of you just enough for you to set your feet on the ground, and you felt the instant your knees buckled.

With a grunt, Hinata wrapped his arm around your waist and kept you upright, his cock still buried to the hilt and his hand splayed flat against your abdomen. You shuddered and sighed, a small, content smile curling your lips and the exhaustion beginning to set in.

"Such a good girl," Hinata hummed, his lips finding the curve of your ear and his hand smoothing up and over the curve of your ribs. "So, so good for me. Daddy's good girl."

You preened at the praise, a shiver skittering up your spine. The ache between your thighs was becoming more bearable, the overwhelming need and desire ebbing away. You felt him shift, felt the slow drag of his cock as he finally pulled out, and whined.

"Shh, it's okay, kitten," Shoyo crooned, his arm still curled around your waist as he reached around and slid his hand down your front. His fingertips dipped between your folds, smearing the remnants of his release and the thick mixture of his cum and your arousal over your aching, abused pussy. You gasped, hips twitching and thighs trembling and your core clenching around nothing.

"I know, baby," he cooed, his palm resting against the apex of your thighs and keeping the heel of his hand pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. You whimpered, squirming, and his arm tightened.

"Stay still, kitten," he ordered, voice dipping into a growl, and you shuddered. "We don’t want to waste a single drop of Daddy's cum, do we?"

Your stomach clenched and you shook your head, lips parted and a thin, reedy mewl spilling out. His cock gave a weak twitch, the fat, swollen head nudging against the curve of your ass, and you felt the slow trickle of his cum leak out of you.

"N-No, Daddy," you mumbled, a shiver running through you and the molten pool of desire reigniting within your core.

"Then be a good girl and stay still."

You did, the only movements coming from the trembling and twitching of your hips and thighs. His palm kept a steady, unrelenting pressure against your clit, his fingertips slowly stroking the slick, sensitive folds and smearing his cum into your skin.

"That's a good girl," Hinata murmured, pressing another soft, tender kiss to the back of your neck. "Now, let's get cleaned up and get some sleep. It's late."

He pulled his hand away, and the sudden lack of contact made you whimper and writhe. You could feel the mess between your thighs, feel the thick, pearly ropes of his release dripping down onto the floor, and the knowledge of it left you breathless and needy.

"Daddy—"

It was just then that the kitchen light flicked on.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #hinata shoyo smut #hinata x reader smut #hinata shoyo #hinata smut #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyuo #hinata x reader #hinata shouyou #shoyo x reader smut #shoyo smut #shoyo x reader

515 notes · View notes

starvrse · 20 days ago

Text

TANGLED DESIRES

| pairing : kim minji x fem!reader

| summary : idfk ill update ts later

| warnings : g!p minji smut, drunk driving, aggressive (idk😭), skz hyunjin mention, ichillin yuju mention, minji calls u a bitch like once, not proofread, etc.

| unnecessary bs : like 3.5k words (ik guys it’s long, glaze me later 🙏😅)

minji stands in front of the mirror, thoroughly admiring her own reflection. she runs a hand confidently down the front of her costume, feeling the fabric cling perfectly to her form. a bold smirk spreads across her lips as she assesses her appearance, practically radiating self-assuredness. “fuck yeah,” she declares, “this is the one.” with a playful twist to the side, she checks her reflection from another angle, her eyes glinting with mischief. she knows she looks incredible, and it shows.

“you chose the most basic costume ever, watch there be like— 100 other spiderman’s at the party” you say, interrupting her as you walk next to her to adjust your own costume in the mirror.

“yeah but who else is gonna look as sexy as me?” minji responds, her eyes unbashedly wandering down your body, taking in your corpse bride costume.

you laugh lightly before responding, “me, obviously”

she raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “you think that tattered veil and that pale makeup can compete with this?” she gestures dramatically to her figure.

“oh girl please, i’m a bride, and you’re just…the friendly neighbor hero” you tease, making eye contact with her through the mirror.

“you’re so corny, just hurry up” minji replies as she steps outside to start her car up.

you giggle to yourself while quickly taking a few pictures before going outside to join your girlfriend in the car.

pulling up to the party, minji parks near some cars on a curb, and turns off the engine. she looks out at the house and can see the lights and hear the faint thump of music from inside. she takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the night ahead. she checks her appearance in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair and adjusting the spiderman mask on the top of her head.

glancing over at you in the passenger seat, watching intently as you apply your lipgloss. her eyes fixate on the way your lips move as you swipe the gloss over them. “are you ready?” she asks, licking her lips.

you smack your lips together, the gloss glistening under the soft glow of the streetlights, letting out a quick “mhm”

“alright then.” minji takes a moment before finally stepping out of the car, jogging to your side to open the door. as you both walk toward the house, she feels the cool night air wash over her, grounding her.

stepping inside the house, the music swells, enveloping you both in a vibrant atmosphere. people are mingling, laughter bubbling around you, a few even sleep.

minji hangs close, her gaze sweeping the crowd as she takes in the scene.

“look,” you say, pointing to a peter parker and miles morales standing next to each other. “just walked through the door and already spotted 2 spidermen”

the older girl shrugs and sucks her teeth, “yeah, but they don’t look better than me”

you lightly laugh at her response, “of course they don’t,” obviously no one could look better than your girlfriend. “anyways, wanna grab a drink?” you ask, pulling her attention back to you. “yeah,” minji replies, grabbing your hand.

as you make your way to the makeshift bar, she can’t help but notice how effortlessly others are drawn to you. a few friends greet you with enthusiastic hugs, and lots of “i love your costume!!” or “you’re so pretty!”

after a couple of shots, boredom starts to creep in.

“babe, let’s dance—” you begin, but a voice cuts you off.

“yoo, it’s emily!” turning toward the sound, you spot hyunjin, your acquaintance (you wouldn’t really consider him a friend) dressed in victor costume.

your mouth curls into a wide smile, and you can’t help but exclaim, “oh my god, victor!” you stand up from the chair, excitement bubbling inside you. “hey, I’ll be right back,” you say to minji, flashing her a quick grin before making your way over to hyunjin.

minji watches intently as you talk to hyunjin, the way he touches your shoulder, looks at your lips, and stares at you with hunger in his eyes. she notices it all.

pouring herself a cup of gin mixed with soda, she downs it as she continues watching your interaction with the boy. the latter couldn’t even lie, his costume next to yours looked perfect, people walking by definitely would’ve assumed he was your boyfriend. even she was regretting her choice of picking spiderman instead of matching with you.

twenty minutes tick by—though it feels like an eternity—and you’re still engrossed in conversation with him, barely glancing in your girlfriend’s direction. and at this point, she feels tipsy, and she knows that one more shot could push her over the edge.

just as she’s about to take that final shot, a girl saunters up to her in an all-black bodysuit, complete with a miniskirt, cat makeup, and playful cat ears.

how basic, minji thinks as she sizes up the newcomer.

“hi, spidey~” the girl says flirtatiously, sliding into the seat beside her. “uh, hi?” minji replies, raising an eyebrow.

“you seem pretty drunk, and who wants to be drunk and alone at a party?” the cat girl continues, her tone overly sweet.

“i’m not alone…” minji retorts, her voice flat.

“really? because i don’t see anyone next to you,” she pretends to look around before looking back in the taller girls eyes. “and honestly, i wouldn’t mind getting tangled up in your webs,” the girl purrs, her hand resting on minji’s bicep and giving it a squeeze. “i’m yeju…” she whispers, leaning in closer, her fingers trailing down to caress your girlfriend’s stomach, feeling her abs underneath the costume. “how about we get outta here, and go somewhere more priv-“

“how about you fuck off,” minji snaps, pushing the girl off her and downing her shot before standing up.

she storms over to you and hyunjin, her frustration bubbling as she sees his hands on your waist, his nose buried in your neck as you snap pictures together. it ignites something fierce inside her, and she grabs your arm, pulling you toward the door. “we’re going home,” she says in a monotone voice, desperately trying to mask her jealousy.

“minji, what the fuck?” you exclaim, stumbling slightly as she drags you. she ignores your protest, her grip tightening as she leads you to the car.

once at the vehicle, she swings open your door and gives you a gentle push into the passenger seat before making her way to the driver’s side. the tension hangs thick in the air, and minji can feel her heart racing as she prepares to confront the emotions swirling within her.

as she starts to drive, worry creeps in.

“babe?” you call out softly, hoping for a response.

silence hangs heavy in the air.

“minji, what’s wrong?” you try again, glancing at her profile, searching for any hint of what’s bothering her.

still no answer.

“minji, please talk to me so i can help!” you plead, your voice edged with concern.

the silence stretches on, each passing moment intensifying your anxiety.

finally, you decide to give up on the conversation for now. reaching for your wipes, you start wiping the makeup off your face, wanting to get it done before you step inside. it feels like a small act of normalcy amidst the tension, but your mind races with thoughts of how to bridge the gap between you.

after driving for a while, you finally pull up to your home.

minji gets out of the car with a grunt, slamming the door shut. “big headed bitch boy…” she mutters, stomping over to your side to open the door. but instead of closing it behind you, she just walks past and heads into the apartment, leaving you standing there, feeling a mix of confusion and worry.

once you step inside, she finally turns to you, her expression still tense. “go in the room,” she says, her voice firm and edged with frustration.

you nod at her request (demand) and quickly rush to the bedroom. as soon as the door closes behind you, you unzip your dress, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. the fabric falls away, and you start removing your accessories, the clinking of jewelry echoing in the silence.

your mind races as you try to process the tension from the car. you wonder what’s going through minji’s head, hoping you can figure it out before things escalate. taking a deep breath, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, trying to shake off the unease.

after a moment, you hear footsteps approaching the door, your heart pounding as you prepare for what’s next.

the raven haired girl steps in the room, her spiderman suit zipped down, only covering her bottom half, while a black sports bra covers her top.

you snake your eyes down her body, staring at her crotch area. you can see the outline of her thick, hard cock straining against the tight fabric of the costume.

she approaches you, slightly tripping over her own feet. minji can’t grasp how she managed to drive home safely while drunk; perhaps it was the adrenaline, but that rush is long gone now, and all she knows is that she’s mad and horny.

as you stand there, paralyzed by her intense gaze, you feel the heat of her breath against your lips. her pupils are dilated, almost completely concealing the iris. she cups your face in her manicured hands, her nails digging into your skin. and then, without warning, she pulls you closer, pressing her lips firmly against yours. the kiss is hungry, urgent, and demanding, as if she can't get enough of you.

tasting the tang of alcohol on her lips. she sucks gently on your tongue, eliciting a small moan from the back of your throat. Her hands slide into your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, tugging. the kiss is deep and hot, you find yourself losing yourself in the moment, forgetting everything else except the feeling of her mouth against yours.

you pull back, your labored breaths filling the space between the two of you. she takes a few moments to catch her own breath, eyes half lidded and lips plump from the kiss. almost immediately, she tries to lean in again, desperate for more, but you gently push her back. "wait," you murmur breathlessly, trying to keep your own desire under control. “slow down.”

the bear-like girl furrows her thick eyebrows at your words, wait? you’re telling her to wait?? and not only are you telling her to wait, you’re telling her to slow down.

she clenches her jaw, gripping a handful of your hair and pulling it to command you to your knees. “so you can whore yourself out to that boy, but you tell me to wait? i’m not waiting to have something that’s mine” she says, angrily.

you moan and wince slightly at the pain throbbing in your head. then, you feel your lover grab your jaw, forcing your mouth open. she holds your head, guiding your mouth around her clothed boner.

minji let’s out a low moan at the feeling of your mouth around her, deciding that she needs more, she pulls your head away, snickering at the wet spot your saliva left.

finally, pulling the suit down her legs, the tip of her cock peaks out from her boxers, red and angry with precum oozing out of it.

her underwear joins the discarded costume on the floor, and with a eager bounce, her rigid length springs upward, slapping against her toned stomach with an audible smack. she wraps her long fingers around her thick base, the digits barely meeting as she holds it steady, her heavy balls hanging low.

she gently taps your lips with her wet tip, painting them with her essence. “come on, stick your tongue out bitch.” she says in a husky whisper, her breath hot and heavy with her dazed eyes locked on to yours, daring you to disobey.

and just as she thought, you stick your tongue out. she hums in approval, a string of saliva drips from her parted lips, landing directly onto your waiting tongue.

as the saliva slides down your throat, you feel a thrill of submission mixed with the rush of her approval. her smirk grows wider, and her eyes gleam with satisfaction. without hesitation, she guides the swollen head of her cock past your lips, the velvety skin gliding smoothly into your mouth.

you wrap your lips around the thick shaft, your mouth stretching to accommodate her girth. she starts to thrust slowly, pushing her dick deeper with each movement. the salty precum coats your tongue, and you swallow it eagerly, desperate to please her.

she moans lowly at the feeling, but it’s not enough for her. she needs more. the images of you and hyunjin at the party start playing in her mind, getting more upset, her pace quickens, hips snapping forward as she dives deeper into your mouth. the head of her arousal hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.

“f-fuck, relax your throat,” she demands, her voice hoarse with lust. she grabs your head with both hands, holding your mouth in place as she starts to fuck your face. her thick cock pistons in and out of your mouth at a furious pace, the sound of your gagging and choking filling the room.

tears stream down your face, un-removed mascara running in black streaks as she continues to thrust mercilessly. shes beyond caring about being gentle now. all that matters is the heat of your mouth and the sounds of your distress. "look at me," she growls, tilting your chin up.

her eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and a hint of cruelty. she holds your gaze as she slams forward, burying her entire length down your throat. your nose presses against her pelvis, inhaling her musky scent. she grinds against your face, giving you no chance to breathe.

"shit m’ gonna cum—y-you're gonna swallow it all," she pants, her voice tight with impending release. her movements grow erratic, hips bucking forward as she buries herself balls-deep once more. with a final cry, she comes, pulsing warmth filling your mouth as she unloads onto your tongue.

she holds your head in place, forcing you to gulp down every drop of her thick, salty release. tears and drool run down your chin as you struggle to swallow it all. finally, she pulls out, leaving you gasping for air. a string of cum connects your lips to her softening cock.

breathless and spent, she leans against the wall for support. her chest heaves as she looks down at you, your face a mess of tears, saliva, and her seed. she smirks, getting hard again at the sight. “you look so pretty baby,” she says, kissing you, tasting herself on your plump lips. “i’d like to see that assholes reaction when he sees your face covered in my nut.”

she reaches down and cups your mons, finding your core drenched. she hums appreciatively, "looks like someone enjoyed that." her fingers slip between your folds, easily gliding through your slick heat.

her touch is gentle yet firm, her fingers slowly circling your entrance before slowly pushing inside. you gasp, back arching, as she slowly pumps her hand, crooking her fingers to hit that spot deep inside you. your hands grasp her shoulders, nails digging in as she continues to toy with you.

“minji— i’m gonna-“ just as you were about to release on her fingers, she pulls her hand back. “not yet," minji whispers, a wicked grin spreading across her face. she stands up, holding her hand up to her mouth and licking your juices clean. you let out a frustrated whine, legs trembling as you try to hold yourself together.

“get on the bed.“ minji urges, helping you up from the floor. “lie down, spread your legs, and keep them spread," she commands, her voice low and authoritative. you quickly comply, crawling onto the bed and lying down, your legs spread wide, baring yourself to her.

climbing onto the bed and positioning herself between your spread thighs. her hands grip your hips possessively, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. her thick, veined member pulsed in her hand as she lined herself up with your entrance.

she slowly pushes forward. the thick head of her length spreads your folds, inching inside of you. her thick manhood stretching you open.

you grip the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white as she slowly pushes into you. the sensation bordering on pain. "minji— it's too much—" you gasp, back arching. she leans down, kissing and biting your neck softly.

"shh, you can take it," minji coos encouragingly. she gives a final thrust, burying herself to the hilt inside you. you moan loudly, your fingers digging into her back. she pauses, letting you adjust to her size before slowly pulling out and thrusting back in.

she sets a steady rhythm, her hips snapping forward as she buries herself inside you over and over. with each thrust, she hits that spot deep inside, making your eyes roll back and your words slur into unintelligible moans. "min— it's— it's too—"

"—It's too good?" minji finishes for you, her voice low and taunting. "well, take it. show me how well you can take it." her pace quickens, her breath growing ragged as she pounds into you.

“holy shit—you’re always so tight-“ she loops one arm under your knee and lifts your leg up, placing it over her shoulder. the new angle allows her to delve even deeper, each thrust now hitting that spot with unrelenting precision.

“please— so deep!" you beg, your voice barely a whisper.

minji ignores your pleas, continuing to fuck into you with reckless abandon. her thick member splits you open, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. she leans forward, her arm tightening around your leg as she uses it to pull you further onto her length with every thrust.

"f-fuckk— oh god— it’s too much—“ "shut the fuck up with all that complaining, yn. just take it." her pace quickens, her thrusts becoming almost punishing. the sound of your moans and the headboard slamming against the wall could probably be heard by the whole apartment complex.

the girl reaches between your bodies, her calloused fingers finding your sensitive clit. she rubs tight circles around it, the added stimulation making your inner walls clench around her throbbing shaft. "fuck, you're so tight. gonna make you cum on my cock,"

you let out a high pitched moan as your orgasm crashes over you. your back arches off the bed, and eyes roll back as your walls spasm and clench around her throbbing member.

but, instead of pausing to let you ride out your release, minji continues her relentless pace, chasing her own high. her dick plows in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure but also making it almost painful.

"minji— please— it's— it’s too much— I’m too sensitive” your voice shakes as your body is wracked with aftershocks. her fingers still moving against your swollen bud, prolonging the overwhelming sensation.

"come on, yn. just a little longer for me, baby. i'm almost done," minji pants, her hips starting to stutter as she nears her peak.

with a final, powerful thrust, minji buries herself to the hilt and lets out a guttural moan. "yn..." her voice trails off into a series of incoherent grunts and pants as her own release consumes her, her hips jerking as she spills warmth inside you.

the sensation of her hot release flooding your insides proves to be the final push. your back bows off the bed as another intense orgasm rips through you, your inner walls milking her cock for every last drop. your mouth remains open in a silent scream of ecstasy.

after taking some moments to calm down, minji slowly pulls out, her softening member slipping from your sensitive folds. fingers trace your trembling thigh almost tenderly. "you did so good for me, love," she murmurs, a note of praise and satisfaction in her voice.

the loss of her warmth and the gentle stretch makes you whimper, your hips hitching forward as if trying to follow her. "m-minji..." your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse from the overwhelming amount of stimulation.

you reach back blindly, trying to pull her closer once more. your body is oversensitive, your mind hazy with aftershocks. she chuckles darkly and obliges, her strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against her.

"just relax... i've got you..." her voice is low and soothing, her touch gentle as she strokes your skin.

minji's hands continue their soothing path over your skin, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other traces idle patterns on your hip. She presses soft kisses along your shoulder and the side of your neck. "my perfect girl..." she murmurs against your skin. “so good for me”

your breathing slows and deepens, your body relaxing completely in your lovers embrace. "i'm sleepy..." you mumbled, burrowing back against her. she tightens her arms around you protectively. "then sleep, my love. you've earned it..."

she wraps herself around you like a warm blanket. she kisses the top of your head softly before settling in to hold you close, her own breathing slowly evening out as she drifts off to sleep alongside you.

this was for halloween but i’m like late asf 😭😭 alr now that you’ve read it all you can glaze me 😅

#starvrse #minji x reader #minji smut #newjeans minji #kim minji #g!p #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #wlw fanfic #halloween #g!p minji

330 notes · View notes

unboundprompts · 4 months ago

Note

hi!! i was wondering if you could do something that was similar to ‘how to describe hair colors’? kinda like how you did the eye color one? it’s alright if you can’t but thank you in advance either way :)) 💕

Different Ways to Describe Hair Colors

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Blonde Hair Descriptions:

She had hair like the sand on the beach, and it reminded him of home. Of long summer days and the music his dad used to play for him.

His hair was like sunlight spun into silk.

Their hair reminded her of fields kissed by morning sun, or the gentle glow of a candle's flame in the evening.

Brown Hair Descriptions:

Her hair was a tapestry woven with earth's hues.

His brown hair resembled the deep, mysterious tones of a forest at twilight, where shadows play among the trees.

As the light touches it, their brown hair shimmers with hints of copper or amber, reminiscent of autumn leaves ablaze in the sun's last rays.

Black Hair Descriptions:

Her black hair was like a midnight veil, absorbing light and drawing you into its depths.

His hair was like a night sky adorned with stars.

Their hair shimmers like a raven's wing, catching glints of iridescence.

Red Hair Descriptions:

Each strand of her hair is a brushstroke of copper, auburn, and gold, intertwining to create a vibrant mosaic that captures the essence of a sunlit forest in fall.

His red hair evoked the warmth of a crackling hearth on a winter's eve.

Their hair flows like molten copper, radiant and alive with energy.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #dialogue prompt #story prompt #prompt list #ask box prompts #how to describe hair colors #hair color description #hair description

588 notes · View notes

starrylanex · 10 months ago

Text

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

PAIRING - bucky barnes x reader

SUMMARY - bucky cant help but get jealous at stark’s party as he watches you interact with the others, because all he wants to do is kiss you then and there

WC - 1,1k

EXTRA - one use of y/n, bucky being jealous and overprotective, stark being a smartass,

NOTES - hi angels, if i made a patreon where i would update regularly with longer fics and answer your asks quicker, would anyone support me there too?

PS. - english isn’t my first language so if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes please don’t hesitate to point them out:))

—

the rhythmic pulse of music filled the opulent halls of stark tower, the vibrant lights casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the dance floor. tony stark's parties were legendary, a whirlwind of glamour, extravagance, and hedonism. yet amidst the glittering throng of guests, bucky barnes found himself feeling distinctly out of place.

clad in a sleek suit that hugged his muscular frame, bucky stood at the edge of the room, his steel-blue eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of wariness and apprehension. his grip tightened around the crystal tumbler in his hand as he watched the scene unfold before him.

amidst the sea of revelers, his gaze inevitably found its way to you, the object of his affection and the reason for his unease. you moved with effortless grace, your laughter ringing out like a melody amidst the voices.

bucky's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched you interact with the other guests, a swarm of admirers vying for your attention. he knew he had no right to feel this way—no claim over you—but the sight of other men hovering around you like vultures sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through his veins.

"hey there, buckaroo," a voice interrupted his thoughts, and bucky turned to see tony stark himself sauntering up to him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"enjoying the party?" tony asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief and sipping on his own glass of champagne.

bucky forced a tight smile, the tension in his jaw betraying his true feelings. "yeah, it's a real blast," he replied tersely, his gaze flickering back to where you were standing across the room.

tony followed his line of sight and chuckled knowingly. "ah, i see. keeping an eye on y/n, are we?" he teased, nudging bucky playfully.

bucky bristled at the implication, his jaw clenching in frustration. "she's just a friend," he muttered through gritted teeth, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.

tony raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mock disbelief. "right, just a friend," he echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "tell me, barnes, do you always look at your friends like you want to devour them whole?"

bucky's cheeks flushed crimson at the implication, a surge of guilt mingling with the simmering jealousy in his chest. he opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word, a commotion erupted across the room.

a group of boisterous guests had gathered around you, their laughter ringing out like a chorus of bells. bucky's heart plummeted as he watched a particularly persistent admirer step too close for comfort, his hand lingering on your lower back.

without a second thought, bucky was striding across the room, his jaw set in a steely resolve. he reached you in a matter of seconds, his presence looming over the other man like a thundercloud.

"is there a problem here?" bucky's voice was low and dangerous, a warning laced with thinly veiled menace. winter soldier coming through for a second.

the other man recoiled at the sudden intrusion, his eyes widening in surprise. "n-no, no problem at all," he stammered, taking a hasty step back.

bucky's gaze never wavered from yours as he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "come on," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos of the party. "let's get out of here."

you nodded wordlessly, your heart pounding in your chest as bucky led you away from the crowd, his protective presence a shield against the world outside.

as you slipped away into the quiet solitude of the night, the tangled web of jealousy and desire that had ensnared you both seemed to unravel, leaving only the fragile threads of something deeper—a connection that transcended words and boundaries, binding you together in ways neither of you could fully comprehend.

the cool night air greeted bucky and you as the two of you stepped out onto the balcony, the cacophony of the party fading into the distance behind you. bucky's grip on your hand remained firm but gentle, a silent reassurance in the darkness.

"i'm sorry," you murmured, breaking the tense silence that hung between them. "i didn't mean to cause a scene back there."

bucky shook his head, his expression softening as he turned to face you. "you didn't do anything wrong, angel," he replied earnestly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "i just couldn't stand seeing you surrounded by those assholes."

a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, gratitude warming your heart at his words. "thank you, bucky," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "for always looking out for me.

bucky's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in your eyes, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. "always," he vowed, his voice filled with quiet determination.

for a long moment, the two of you stood together in comfortable silence, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind against the city skyline and faded music coming from the party. the weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air.

then, without warning, something came over him, and bucky's hand cupped your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. time seemed to stand still as you gazed into each other's eyes, the world around you fading into obscurity.

he waited patiently for you to move away form him, to give him a sign that this wasn’t what you wanted, but you stayed still, waiting for him to finish what he started.

and then, with a soft exhale, bucky closed the distance between you two, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled. it was a moment of pure vulnerability, a silent confession of the feelings that had long simmered beneath the surface.

as you finally pulled away, not because you wanted to, but because you had to take a breath, the world seemed to shift on its axis, the weight of uncertainty replaced by a newfound sense of clarity. in each other's arms, the two of you found solace amidst the chaos, a beacon of light guiding them through the darkness.

"i don't ever want to lose you, precious," bucky whispered, his voice barely audible above the whisper of the wind.

you smiled softly, your heart overflowing with emotion as you pressed closer to him, seeking refuge in his embrace. "you won't," you promised, the words a vow etched in the depths of your soul. "i'm right here, bucky. Always. and i dont plan on going anywhere anytime soon."

and as you stood together beneath the starlit sky, your intertwined hands a symbol of the unbreakable bond that bound you two together, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in a love that defied all odds.

#fanfic #x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #mcu x reader #tony stark #mcu bucky barnes #tony stark’s party

1K notes · View notes

novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

Chasing the Inferno

- Summary: It was during Rhaenyra’s and Laenor’s wedding feast, that the king noticed something he was blind to for far too long.

- Paring: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

This whole work is inspired by this brilliant anonymous ask:

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has striking resemblance to her late grandmother Alyssa and is younger sister of Rhaenyra. These events happen after The Flames We Hide. To read all the chapters in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 532

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The evening air carries the scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh flowers into the grand hall, mingling with the vibrant sounds of revelry. The hall is a living tapestry of silks, banners, and candlelight, casting everything in hues of crimson and gold. A sea of finely dressed lords and ladies flows beneath the arched ceiling, the thrumming heart of the grand wedding feast of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.

You arrive with the grace and splendor expected of a Targaryen princess, a vision that commands the attention of every eye that lands on you. The dress you wear is a rich deep plum, the color of ripened plums at dusk, lined with golden thread that shimmers in the light. The sleeves are long and bell-shaped, flowing with each movement, while the bodice is tightly laced with intricate embroidery of dragons in flight. Around your neck, a delicate chain bears a pendant of a dragon curled around a glittering ruby—a gift from your father. Your silver hair is braided in intricate patterns, falling down your back with hints of shimmering ribbons intertwined through each strand.

You sit beside Rhaenyra at the high table, your twin sister glowing with happiness under her finely woven veil. She leans toward you with a playful smirk. “I see you’ve decided to steal the attention for yourself tonight, Y/N. Not even the newlywed princess is safe from your charms.”

You laugh softly, returning her smirk. “It’s not stealing, dearest sister, merely borrowing for the evening.” Your eyes flick toward the bustling crowd, scanning the faces, seeking a particular one even as you engage in idle conversation.

You find him across the hall—Ser Harwin Strong, the Breakbones, the man who has captured your heart in ways you would never openly admit. His broad shoulders and easy smile cut a striking figure amidst the revelers. He leans against a pillar, eyes fixed on you with a heat that makes your pulse quicken. Even from here, you can feel the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken challenge in those dark eyes. A smirk pulls at your lips. Tonight is not just about celebrating your sister’s marriage—it is a dance, a game of fire and shadow that you and Harwin have played many times before.

As the feast progresses, the lords and ladies rise from their seats, drawn to the center of the hall where the dancing begins. You stand, gracefully gliding down the steps, the train of your gown trailing like liquid night behind you. Many lords vie for your attention, each more eager than the last to have the honor of a dance with the daughter of the King.

You indulge them—one by one, offering your hand with a practiced smile that promises nothing but amusement. Lord Beesbury twirls you first, his steps light but unremarkable. Lord Tyrell is next, his flattery sweet yet forgettable. Each time the music swells, you shift, gliding seamlessly into the arms of another suitor, all while casting sly glances over your shoulder to see if Harwin is watching.

And he is. His eyes never leave you, following every step, every spin, the set of his jaw tightening each time you turn away just as he moves closer. You can feel his impatience building like a storm, the tension of the game heightening with every dance.

Finally, after what feels like endless teasing, you find yourself caught in a whirl of movement, spinning until you are only steps away from him. Harwin’s expression is a mix of hunger and frustration as he makes his move to claim you at last.

But just as his hand reaches for yours, you slip away, turning instead into the arms of a young knight from the Westerlands, offering him a dazzling smile that is only for show. “My, Ser Harwin, are you growing weary of this dance already?” you tease, your voice lilting as you catch his gaze. You can see the fire in his eyes, a silent vow that he will not let you slip away so easily next time.

When the dance ends, the Westerlander knight bows low, eyes filled with admiration as he releases you. And as you turn, Harwin is there—closer than before, a step ahead of any other. This time, you do not pull away when his hand grasps yours, his grip firm and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, rough with suppressed desire, as he murmurs into your ear. “Do you truly believe you can keep running from me, Y/N?”

You tilt your head, lips curving into a smirk as you meet his gaze fully, violet and brown heat clashing. “Run, Ser Harwin? I am only leading the chase.”

Without giving him the satisfaction of a response, you spin away from him, the hem of your dress sweeping across the floor as you are swallowed back into the crowd. You glance back over your shoulder just long enough to catch the frustration in his expression before disappearing into the throng of lords and ladies once more. Harwin will catch you like he always does—of that you have no doubt. The thrill is in making him work for it.

But for now, the game continues, and you savor every moment of it.

The night is young, and so are you—dragon-blooded and bold, playing with fire and reveling in the heat that comes with it.

The music swells, a lively tune that fills the hall with mirth and energy, but it does little to settle the unease that creeps into King Viserys’ chest. Seated at the high table, he holds a goblet of wine, though he has barely touched it. His gaze drifts from one side of the room to the other, watching the mingling guests, the lords and ladies spinning in intricate dances. Yet his eyes keep returning to the center of the hall, where Rhaenyra and Daemon move together with a fluid grace that borders on impropriety.

His brow furrows as he watches them—his daughter and his brother. The distance between them is too narrow, the smiles exchanged too familiar. Even now, after all these years, Viserys cannot fully discern what lies behind those shared glances. His hand tightens on the armrest of his seat, his knuckles whitening with the effort to maintain composure. The court is watching; he cannot afford to let his concerns show. Not here. Not tonight.

But then, from the corner of his eye, something else catches his attention—a flash of deep plum silk, a braid of silver hair glinting in the candlelight. His eyes shift, narrowing as he tracks the movement, and there you are, his younger daughter, Y/N, weaving through the crowd with that same effortless grace, the very image of your late mother Alyssa in her youth.

Viserys watches as you glide from one partner to the next, a playful smile ever present on your lips. Each lord who steps forward is charmed, entranced even, but there is one figure whose presence never strays far from your orbit—Ser Harwin Strong. The son of his current Hand, a man known for his strength and loyalty, but also for the intensity of his gaze, a gaze that now rests solely on you.

Viserys leans forward slightly, frowning as he observes the exchange unfolding before him. Harwin moves closer, clearly intent on catching you, and you—ever the playful one—tease him with fleeting glances, spinning just out of his reach each time he draws near. The way your eyes gleam with mischief, the way you turn your back only to glance over your shoulder at him, invites more than just a dance. It’s a game, and one that is all too familiar to Viserys, who remembers his own youth, and the thrill of such pursuits.

But then Harwin catches you. His large hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, closer than what is proper for a dance in front of the entire court. Your laughter rings out like silver bells, light and teasing as you push back against him, yet the way Harwin’s hand lingers—fingers splayed possessively against the silk of your gown—does not escape your father’s notice. The look on Harwin’s face is far too unguarded, a mixture of admiration and longing that sends a jolt of concern racing through Viserys.

Viserys’ chest tightens as he watches you lean in, saying something that makes Harwin’s smile sharpen, though the words are lost to the music and laughter that fills the hall. Then, just as quickly as he caught you, you slip away again, your skirts swirling as you twirl out of his grasp, leaving Harwin standing in the middle of the floor with a look of mingled frustration and desire. The scene plays out before Viserys like a vivid memory, like something he should have noticed sooner, something he should have acted upon long before tonight.

His eyes narrow as he follows the thread of events with growing unease. You laugh and dance your way out of the hall, light-footed and swift, and though Harwin remains behind for a few moments, his gaze tracks you with the keen eye of a falcon. Then, as discreetly as he can manage, Harwin moves toward the exit, following you.

Viserys’ grip on his goblet tightens until he fears it might shatter in his hand. He remains rooted to his seat, unwilling to cause a scene, yet the implications churn in his mind like a dark tide. The daughter who bears his blood, a Targaryen of pure lineage, slipping away with the son of his Hand? It is unthinkable—and yet, Viserys cannot ignore the undeniable connection between the two of you. The way you moved in tandem, how easily you played off one another as if you were two parts of a whole. It stirs something in Viserys, a deep-seated dread that this could lead to something more—something he has not prepared for.

His gaze shifts, and he meets the eyes of Lord Lyonel Strong. The Hand is seated farther down the table, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as though he too is aware of the precarious position his son is placing him in. When their eyes lock, Viserys does not miss the brief flash of unease in Lyonel’s expression, followed quickly by a nod of acknowledgment, as if to say he understands what Viserys is thinking. And, undoubtedly, he does.

The memory rushes back, clear as day—months ago, when Lyonel Strong came to him with a proposition a second time. “Your Grace,” Lyonel had said, his voice steady and filled with the gravity of a man who understood the weight of his words, “there are many fine matches to be made for your daughter, Y/N, from prominent houses across the realm. But I would humbly suggest that what my son Harwin offers may be worth more than mere lineage. His devotion to the princess is unwavering, and his love is without question. He would be a husband who honors her above all else, a union built on something deeper than mere alliances.”

At the time, Viserys had dismissed the notion—politely, but firmly. His daughter was a Targaryen, and surely she deserved a match that would strengthen their house politically, not merely satisfy matters of the heart. Yet now, watching the scene unfold before him, Viserys finds himself second-guessing his decision. Could there be merit in such a match after all? Could Lyonel’s words hold more truth than Viserys had been willing to see? But then again, to allow such a thing would be to acknowledge a love affair that has clearly grown far beyond simple courtly affection.

Viserys’ thoughts whirl, torn between the duty of a king and the love of a father. He knows that if he raises the matter now, it could cast a shadow over the entire evening, drawing unwelcome attention to something that should remain hidden, if only for the sake of peace. And yet, can he afford to remain silent, knowing the path that such unchecked desire could lead his daughter down? His gaze flicks back to the entrance where you vanished, and a part of him itches to rise from his seat, to go after you and demand answers.

But he stays rooted in place, forced into inaction by the eyes of the court and the weight of his crown. Instead, his gaze returns to Lyonel, and he sees the older man swallow nervously before looking away, clearly wishing to be anywhere else. The tension between them is palpable, unspoken yet undeniable.

Viserys takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The decision he makes next could have lasting consequences, for both you and the realm. As the music swells and the laughter of the court continues around him, the king’s mind churns, trapped in a web of duty, love, and fear.

For now, he decides to wait—he will watch, and if Harwin oversteps again, then the matter will be brought to light. But the seed of doubt has already taken root in Viserys’ heart, and it will not be easily dismissed.

The night is long, but Viserys’ thoughts are longer still.

You slip through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, your heart thrumming in your chest as you make your way deeper into its shadowed recesses. The sound of music and laughter fades behind you as you reach a secluded passage, hidden away from the eyes of the court. This path is familiar, a secret shared only between the two of you. You’ve met here before, during stolen moments when the weight of duty and the eyes of others became too much to bear. The flickering torchlight casts long shadows along the stone walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality. Yet there is nothing dreamlike about the tension that crackles in the air as you wait, anticipation coiling like a serpent beneath your skin.

Footsteps echo faintly down the passage, the heavy tread unmistakable. A smirk tugs at your lips as you press your back against the cool stone, the thrill of the chase still buzzing in your veins. He always catches you in the end; it’s a part of the game, a part of the dance you both know so well. You hear him approach, his steps purposeful, a hunter closing in on his prey. You hold your breath, relishing the thrill of being caught, knowing what comes next.

And then he’s there—Ser Harwin Strong, towering and fierce, the firelight casting sharp angles across his rugged features. He looks at you with that smoldering gaze, dark and intense, his chest heaving as he closes the distance between you. “You run from me as if you ever wanted to get away,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You don’t reply with words, only a wicked smile that dares him to come closer. And he does, with a predatory grace, until his body is pressed against yours, trapping you between the stone wall and his broad chest. “Caught you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, one hand sliding up to cradle your jaw while the other grips your waist possessively.

Before you can retort, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s all fire and hunger, the pent-up tension of the night spilling over as he devours you with a need that’s impossible to hide. You kiss him back with equal fervor, fingers tangling in his dark curls as you pull him closer, desperate to close the distance that’s been kept between you all night. Every touch, every bite and nip, is laced with the emotions you can’t express openly—a love too dangerous to voice in the light of day, but undeniable in moments like this.

Harwin’s hands roam over your body with a familiarity that sends heat pooling in your core. He tugs at the laces of your gown, his fingers rough but practiced, until the fabric loosens and falls away, exposing the soft skin of your neck and shoulders. You gasp against his lips as he nips at your throat, the scrape of his teeth drawing a moan from your lips. His own garments follow suit—his tunic and belt discarded hastily, the sound of cloth hitting stone echoing faintly in the small space.

The air between you crackles with a desperate need, the kind that’s built up over countless stolen moments, secret touches, and longing glances. There’s no pretense here, no titles or duties—only the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Harwin’s hands slide down your waist, gripping your hips firmly as he lifts you, pressing you harder against the wall. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, gasping as you feel him against you, hard and ready. The anticipation coils tightly in your belly, every nerve alive with want.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment, and in them, you see everything he can’t say aloud—devotion, desire, and the promise that he would burn the world for you if you asked. But words are unnecessary now. You reach down, guiding him until he’s pressed right where you need him most. There’s a brief, charged pause—a moment where everything hangs on the edge—and then he pushes into you in one smooth, powerful motion.

The world tilts, pleasure and need blurring everything else as he sets a rhythm, hard and fast, the way he knows you both like it. It’s familiar and yet never loses its edge—each thrust, each gasp, sending sparks of electricity through you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on the rough skin to muffle your cries, while his own growls of pleasure vibrate against your ear. His hands grip you tightly, fingers digging into your flesh as he moves, driving into you with a force that leaves you breathless.

But it’s not just the physical pleasure that binds you in this moment. It’s the intimacy, the shared understanding that this is where you both belong—together, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world. Here, you are not a princess, and he is not merely the son of the Hand. Here, you are simply two people who have found something rare and precious, something that defies the rules of the world you live in.

He kisses you again, slower this time, a searing heat beneath the tenderness as he deepens the connection between you. Your bodies move in sync, finding that perfect rhythm that drives you both higher, closer to the edge. You can feel it building, a tightening coil of pleasure that threatens to snap at any moment. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea, and he responds with your name in kind, low and reverent.

The world narrows to just the two of you—the heat of his body, the rough press of stone at your back, the intoxicating scent of sweat and desire. And then, with one final thrust, the tension breaks, pleasure crashing over you like a wave, drowning you in bliss. Harwin follows a heartbeat later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buries himself deep, his body trembling with the force of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you move, the air thick with the aftermath of your passion. You stay entwined, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath, your heartbeats slowing in tandem. His hands are still on you, holding you as if he’s afraid you might slip away even now. And for a moment, the world is quiet, all worries and responsibilities forgotten in the haze of sated desire.

But reality is never far away. Slowly, you both come back to yourselves, and he reluctantly pulls back, letting you slide down until your feet touch the ground once more. There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, a wish that this moment could last longer, but he says nothing as he helps you adjust your gown, his touch gentle now.

You smooth down your skirts, fixing your hair with a practiced ease, though the flush of your skin and the brightness in your eyes would give you away to anyone who looked closely enough. Harwin lingers, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a soft, almost reverent caress. “You always make me chase you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fondness.“

And you always catch me,” you reply, the smile on your lips tinged with affection. “Perhaps I simply enjoy the chase.”

He chuckles, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze as he cups your face in his hands, holding you still for a moment longer. “One day, I won’t let you run again,” he says quietly, the promise heavy in the air.

You don’t answer, not with words. Instead, you lean up to kiss him one last time, slow and lingering, tasting the bittersweet mix of what you have and what you cannot yet fully claim. When you pull away, you give him a final smile before slipping out of the shadows and back into the world where duty and decorum await.

Harwin remains behind, watching you go with a look that holds both longing and resolve. He knows this is far from over.

#house of the dragon #hotd harwin #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #harwin x reader #harwin x y/n #harwin x you #harwin breakbones #ser harwin #harwin strong #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd viserys #viserys targaryen

376 notes · View notes