#'THERE'S SO MUCH I FEEL THAT I SHOULD SAY / BUT WORDS CAN WAIT UNTIL SOME OTHER DAY'
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love letters and second sons | part 1.
Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.
Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.
Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader
Word Count: 5.4k
Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special
My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,
I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search.
I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition.
Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received.
I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all.
Yours truly,
A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)
My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,
Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there.
Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea.
Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws.
I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed.
Yours Truly,
Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)
My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,
I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.
I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom.
Yours truly,
Youngest Princes Y/N Kew
The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention.
Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them.
They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.
But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama.
In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters.
“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.”
“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them.
Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?”
Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?”
“Everything is wrong with that.”
“Hmm.”
He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face.
“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.”
Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?”
Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.”
Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.”
“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.
“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said.
“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.”
The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud:
“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered.
Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her.
Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.”
“Piss off.”
“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms.
Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.”
The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell.
“I don’t want this anymore.”
“Cecilia.”
“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.”
“Cecilia.”
“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.”
“Cecilia.”
“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.”
“Please, just give u—”
“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.”
“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.”
Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”
“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.”
“I second that.”
“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.”
“The princess, no doubt.”
”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything.
That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?”
“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.
“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.”
Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.”
All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society.
From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today.
But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps.
You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness.
After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get.
You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham.
Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month.
You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen.
“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.”
“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?”
“Not your room?”
“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.”
“You are getting restless.”
“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?”
“Oh yes, she’s fine.”
“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.”
Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name.
It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact.
You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.”
The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.”
“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.”
“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?”
“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.”
At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you.
“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?”
“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.”
“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?”
“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And, by the way, I already washed up.”
“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.”
You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room.
Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora.
“Oh, good. It is just you.”
“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?”
You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.”
“What?”
“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.”
“Your Highness.”
“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.”
Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.”
She gasped as you hugged her.
“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.”
“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.”
You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.
You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination.
The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?”
“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it.
The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs.
“Is there a problem, Marshall?”
He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.”
“WHAT?!”
The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back.
You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance.
Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss.
“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…”
“Keaton,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name.
“Mrs. Keaton?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all.
“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.”
“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.”
You nodded. “Simply Miss Keaton.”
“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.”
Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues.
“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.”
He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.”
“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.”
They all chuckled when you laughed.
You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.”
The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you.
“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?”
“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.”
“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?”
“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time.
You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.”
“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.”
“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.”
It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.
Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”
(part 2)
PERMANENT TAGLIST:
@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie @daykrisr999
#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton#benedict x reader#benedict bridgerton x princess!reader#benedict fluff#bridgerton fluff#fic
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forty, love | natasha romanoff
synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.
natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader
word count: 4.9k words
a/n: inspired by that one scene from challengers.
masterlist
“slice forehand.”
thwock.
“inside-out forehand.”
another thwock.
“move to the volley. hurry. your feet aren’t keeping up.”
despite the insult, the thwock lands. the ball bounces and hits right where you want it to hit. the singular drop of sweat that dripped onto the ground between your feet is not wasted, as you look up to your performance coach across the net, unamused sneer hidden behind his thick moustache.
“not fast enough?” you quipped.
he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re still number 2 in the state. if you want a shot at beating the princeton team, you’re still going to have to move much faster than that.”
you wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead, fixing the slightly loose hair tie, before nodding understandingly. still, you weren’t too happy at his latest onslaught of insults this past session. “you could have at least given me credit for the dropshot earlier when you came in. it was perfect.”
“perfect shots don’t get you the win. defeating your opponent does.”
he signalled that practice was over for the day, and you walked off court at the same time as he did to gather your things. the woman watching from the stands stood at that moment, and began her descent down to meet you in the locker room.
natasha romanoff walked up behind you as you changed, the sudden feeling of her hands on your bare skin a welcomed intrusion, as you sighed into her touch. she let herself have her hands full for a minute, roaming over your muscles until she was satisfied, before settling them on the edge of your shoulders, massaging the tight knots out of them. you were still so tense.
she pressed her lips lovingly on a scar, waiting for you to finish panting at the feeling of where her hands had been. “you were great out there today.”
“coach said otherwise.”
“mm,” she let you put on your shirt, turning you around to kiss you after, “you were fighting him back just as hard. are you okay?”
you zipped up your bag then, taking a moment to avoid her question, before, “do you think i’m like what he says? what they all say…?”
natasha motioned for you to continue. “that i’m all bark, no bite, now? that i’ve lost my mojo?”
“baby–”
“–because you can tell me straight up. i can take it. you’re my girlfriend, you can tell me, i can take it.” the room had suddenly gotten tense, a stark drop to your composure that you had managed to hide so well on the court. in the locker rooms, you were angry again. you had been angry for a while now.
“losing a few matches isn’t going to hurt your record, baby. you’re this college’s star player, you know this.”
“but losing four matches in a row is going to shatter my ego. my confidence. you of all people should know this!”
you had backed away from natasha, eyebrows raised, posture standoffish. she hated this. she hated seeing you like this. as bad as it was to say, she hated seeing you lose. it was the worst part of yourself that you let her see, when you lost. but what was she, as a partner, if not to stand by you through your career, your ups and down? she should be sharing your pain, taking some burden off of your shoulders, at the very least.
“just last week, i let it go to break point, and i still fucking lost!” you had raised your fist at this point, nearly punching it at the steel frames of the lockers, when you reminded yourself of just the complications that could arise from shattered knuckles. your coach would never let this go. but still, the gesture was there, and the fire in your eyes remained all too dangerous.
suddenly, you were pressed against the lockers, the weight of natasha’s body engulfing yours, as her arms came to hold you tight against herself. you were forced to embrace her back, despite your slight protests and pleas, but she was having none of it. she had wrapped you up in her tight, strong embrace, and her hands were finding themselves to bring your face towards hers, eyes boring into your own.
“nat–”
“–last week, last week, you were against a professional, baby. a nearly retired one at that, but she was fighting for wins at the australian open not too long ago. she’s been doing this longer than you have even started learning how to hit the ball. don’t be so hard on yourself, will you? nobody, nobody else, could have gotten to where you were with her. break point is a feat in itself.”
you didn’t look convinced. but she didn’t need you to look convinced; she needed you to listen. “do you understand? you need to look at things from a different perspective, from my perspective. not your coach’s, not your teammates, certainly not that player’s fucking groupies, who were gloating about your loss all the way out of the stadium. you need to believe in yourself, as i have always believed in you. and you can’t keep going on like this. do you understand me?”
natasha’s eyes never departed from yours, her gaze firm. her hands were shaking, a little unsure of your reaction, because as far as she knew, you didn’t look like you were going to back down from a fight. either with yourself or her, she didn’t know. she certainly hoped it was at least the latter.
but then, your gaze cast downwards, you nodded ashamedly. sighing into the air, you pressed your face into the crook of her neck for a moment, the height advantage letting you lift her up, and she cooed as she let you gather yourself.
“i understand.”
she patted the back of your head. like a mother would a petulant, but repenting child. “good. now let’s go get dinner, then a massage for your shoulders. then back to the gym first thing tomorrow morning.”
–
natasha watched you push around your vegetables for nearly half of dinner. she knew the campus meal tickets didn’t exactly provide for five-star dishes, but she had never seen you so down like this before. it was almost as if you had become a ghost of yourself.
“steve’s birthday is coming up soon.” she decided to change the topic, and hopefully, get your mind off of tennis for a minute.
you gave a nonchalant grunt, finally stabbing the piece of broccoli. she steadied herself. “should we get him the pair of boots he’s always wanted? i figured we could pull in wanda and clint too, if we want to get him a bigger gift.”
your eyes were still unfocused. it was as if she wasn’t there at all. “baby.”
you looked up, half-expecting natasha to be pissed. but she only gave you a small smile. “steve’s birthday?”
“we can get him the boots. i don’t mind paying for them. but i don’t think i’m going to his party.”
“why not? your match on that day ends in the afternoon.”
“yeah, but i think i’m going to be pretty tired.” not to mention if i lose.
natasha decided not to argue with you on it. she knew enough how touchy the subject of your career already was. instead, she jabbed the last piece of corn with her fork, and gestured for your mouth to open.
the both of you left shortly after.
–
in a friendly match the next weekend with the neighbouring college, you were faced up against the top ranking player once more. being a finals round, you had imagined that the crowd would be roaring with applause for how far you’d come, but when the sets began to balance after your first few strong starts and the heat of the afternoon sun began beating on everyone’s backs, the crowd dwindled out one by one from boredom and, to you at least, the possible disappointment of you losing.
it was only expected, from a disenchanted champion. the college’s once pride and joy, the one who was once regarded as a candidate with potential to win grand slams. unfortunately, people only really like you when you win.
but natasha stayed. and so did her friends, and your friends that she had managed to force to stay. you had gestured that they could leave if they wanted to, during the breaks, but they were afraid to even nod, or make a move, lest they wanted to be subjected to natasha’s ferocity, sitting behind them. it was almost humiliating that they stayed only because your girlfriend was forcing them to, you thought.
thwock. a missed shot from your end.
another thwock. “out!”
by your last mistake, the crowd had only left natasha, steve, and some die-hard groupies of yours that were slowly losing hope too. so when the final set was determined by your failure to execute a passing shot, and subsequently touching the net, the roars from the other side seemed almost mocking. you had lost.
natasha rushed down to the locker rooms again, only this time, your friends followed, and the absolute mortification that you felt, along with the pure anger and frustration of losing, overpowered any remaining sense of decency you had left.
the moment you spotted her coming in, then the company behind her, you almost felt like the first time the instinct to shatter your racket came to you.
“out! all of you, out!” you had screamed, not caring to be decent even to your teammates.
“come on, we just wanted–”
“–i don’t care, out! you’ve just come in here to humiliate me, haven’t you? gloating how i could lose, even in a friendly! how shit of a player i am, now!”
the people behind natasha grumbled, but one by one shuffled out. it was better to tell you about how unfair you were being another day, not when emotions were running so high. natasha was thankful they understood. but it didn’t make what you did any less unfair.
she sat beside you as you kept your head down. “that wasn’t very nice.”
“losing isn’t very nice.”
“they meant well, baby.”
“no, they don’t.”
“how many times do i have–”
“–a ton, okay, natasha?” you looked up, slamming your drink between the both of you. “a ton of times, you have to remind me. that my friends love me, that they’re here to support me. but how the fuck am i supposed to believe that when i don’t even have anything for them to support me for?”
“your friends don’t just love you because you’re good at tennis, my love. i don’t love you just because you’re good at tennis. this is ridiculous! i can’t believe we are arguing over this, i can’t believe you think of yourself so lowly like this.”
natasha was met with a deafening silence the moment she finished her last words, her chest heaving up and down from her own disappointment. the rest of the players had filtered out, upon hearing your argument, leaving only you and her there. like always.
your hand rubbed over your face resignedly, hands covering the beautiful eyes natasha loved loves staring into. she wanted to reach out, to pull your hands away from yourself, to even get you to answer her, to let her know that you at least believed you were better than this. but she was afraid of the answer she was going to get.
then, she heard a sniffle, and a small, choked sob afterwards. and that was it.
you were up standing the next second, and slinging your racket bag over your shoulder. “i’m going to the gym. i know you have class after this. don’t wait up.”
she was left there alone, the dismay and disappointment of it all weighing down on her, the moment the doors to the locker room were slammed.
–
i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that, i apologised to my friends, now i want to apologise to you. i love you, i’m sorry. the words didn’t seem enough. the guilt that accumulated and eventually avalanched into your heart was almost insurmountable, after the incident with natasha. you weren’t even sure you were worthy of being forgiven, you thought as you sat in your car later that night, still angry at her, but making sure that she was safe in the short walk home from her class to her dorm.
which was why you found yourself in the florist off campus a few days later, asking the employee what flowers best represented i’m sorry for being such a terrible girlfriend, and which flowers were most likely going to help you be forgiven. the white and blue carnations reminded you of the colours in natasha’s room.
“how much is it?” you asked, to which the cashier then showed you the till. you cursed internally, not even knowing flowers were so expensive nowadays.
checking the contents of your wallet for a minute, you cursed even louder at yourself at the emptiness that greeted you. losing matches meant losing money, that was for sure, and it wasn’t a secret that you were mostly funding your life with prize money won from big matches in the state, with college at least funded with the athlete’s scholarship. yet another reason why i can’t keep doing this, you thought.
it was between dinner for the next few days and gas for your car, and the flowers. fuck it, skipping dinners once in a while wouldn’t hurt, and you could walk from place to place.
you handed over your card, and began the walk to natasha’s dorm.
when she received you, natasha noticed you looked almost like a kicked puppy, none of the anger or smugness you carried with you on and off the court. no, with her, you were soft, and vulnerable, and all-too pitiful for her love. she knows the power she has over you. she never had to worry.
so she brought you in, allowed you to apologise, to beg at her feet, and for her mercy and forgiveness. she allowed you to worship her, taking her to her bed and whispering how much you messed up to her skin, how much you loved her when you were making her see stars, how much you thought you would hurt yourself if she ever left you when she was chanting your name over and over again, begging you to let her come undone.
–
steve’s birthday rolled around, and natasha was once again seated in the front row for you. she never missed your matches.
you thought she should have missed this one, when the match reached a break point and you lost again. when you had gotten so frustrated, so furious, over a careless choke that you had, that you received a punishment for smashing your racket into bits as the opponent screamed in celebration.
she came down to sit with you in the locker room after, but it was in silence. there was nothing to say, and nothing to be said. there were tears streaming down your face, dripping onto the floor. your vision was obscured by the tears, and you would have lost yourself if not for the hand that was holding your own, firm, steadfast. somewhere along the line, she was kissing you, then slowly pushing for you to get up, and bringing you to her dorm. you didn’t really remember anything more after that, busy curling into a ball and crying yourself to sleep afterwards.
when she woke you again to accompany her to steve’s party, you felt almost bad that the ringing in your ears hadn’t gone away, and so had your misery from the match earlier. but natasha needed a ride, and you weren’t going to let her drive back later if she had been drinking for the night.
–
you encouraged natasha to mingle around at the party, and to not worry about you, as you stuck around your few friends for a bit. she was unsure, but you were firm, and soon enough, she too had disappeared into the crowd.
your eyes never left her after you found her again, though, leaning back into a pillar as your friend sam went on and on about his own matches so far. you didn’t have the heart, or energy, to tell him that tennis was the last thing you wanted to talk about right then.
she was by the birthday boy, his arm slung around her waist as the both of them guzzled down cups and cups of spiked punch. their circle was closely-knit, you had always known this, but somehow, the lingering touches, and his hand slowly travelling up and down her back, was ticking you off this time. you had almost half a mind to ask steve what he thought he was doing, but you knew natasha would get embarrassed, and upset. you knew you already made her upset enough today.
but then, sam quipped, “they’ve been awfully close lately, haven’t they?”
he must have forgotten he was talking to natasha’s girlfriend, of all people, as he continued, “steve’s on a winning streak recently. on track to become valedictorian, potentially getting drafted by the top teams next season, it’s only a matter of time before he wants someone by his side to share it with too, huh?”
“...right.”
“you know how natasha likes winners,” he hit your elbow playfully, breath reeking of alcohol and other illegal substances, “she just loves the game. i bet that’s how you got her to fall for you too.”
“not my good looks, or horrible attitude to anything outside of tennis?” you tore your eyes away from natasha for a moment to glare at sam. he chuckled.
“i’m just saying, better to keep your girl by your side, future federer.” he disappeared shortly after, and when you found natasha again, she was laughing and putting her head on steve’s shoulder.
instead of feeling angry this time, you were dejected, and a little bit ashamed. of course. natasha liked winners. and you certainly weren’t one anymore.
you bit back a harsh breath, and went outside to get some fresh air when steve stole a glance at her that was far too intimate to be one of merely friends. you should have known. if she wasn’t winning with you, she was winning with someone else, somewhere else.
that night, for the first time in your career, and relationship, you thought about retiring.
–
but when the competition season rolled around, and the WTAs approaching, you had managed to pull yourself up in the rankings enough to secure a spot at a challengers’ round to hopefully beat princeton and start a domino effect that could lead you to participating in a grand slam.
natasha was walking beside you, struggling to keep up as she checked your schedule haphazardly. “the princeton girl, she’s on the other side of the roster. i doubt the two of you would be playing each other unless she reaches the finals too. which…at this point…”
you didn’t want to know if she meant that you wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the finals, or that the princeton champion would be knocked out early. you were afraid you knew the answer.
steve had dropped her off at the stadium when you went outside to pick her up, his smug smile as he waved her goodbye, and his eyes following yours, making you want to reach over inside the car and beating him with your racket. you had to arrive earlier to discuss strategy with your coaches, and while you were more than willing to pay for natasha’s ride in, she had mentioned that steve would be dropping her off. she sounded almost excited, so you dropped the topic and went back to your practice. like you have been doing for the past few months.
turns out it wasn’t so hard to succeed, and win matches, when you were more or less resigned to your fate that nobody was ever going to expect anything more of you from your streak of losses all those matches ago, and you had effectively lost the love of your life to some football player who kept winning, and winning.
you were at a challenger’s round this time, so you didn't need to worry. you won, and won, and won a little bit more.
–
thwock. right over the net. the opponent misses and falls to her knees.
a serve that would have made williams roar in awe. thwock.
last one. the set was done if you landed this one. thwock.
the ball landed inside the court, right by the opponent’s feet. and you advanced to the finals.
you remembered natasha rushing down, not even waiting until you entered the locker room. she was running, running, and jumping into your arms, kissing you like her life depended on it. you spun her around, giving her a smug smile, trying to hide a bleeding heart that knew she too, was surprised that you ever stood a chance of winning.
the crowd roared behind you. people were liking you again. but you had never felt worse.
–
it turned out that the princeton champion had advanced to the finals, and would be playing against you, after all. there was no surprise for her, but certainly a surprise for you, as the newscasters and fans had aptly put, a grand shocker. they had all thought you had seen your glory days over.
natasha caught you watching the latest telecast from the hotel’s television, gaze zeroed in on the anchor who was comparing your statistics over the last few games. almost perfect scores. leaving opponents with loves in sets. behind her, were the students of your college, decked out in the colour of the university and your face and initials printed on their shirts, caps, flags. all of it. they had never looked more proud. the college had even rolled out a banner in your name, in lieu of the upcoming finals. you knew natasha enjoyed all of it more than you did.
when it came to the broadcast from princeton, the college’s president had come to give a special interview. he mentioned that he never doubted his champion from the start, unlike what your college had to go through with you. you found yourself wanting to spit at the television.
but from behind, the sound of running water from the shower had stopped, and she had come out, in a robe and her wet hair in a towel. she saw the glazed look in your eyes, and promptly picked up the remote to shut the programme off.
she settled into the spot beside you, nuzzling into your comfort. she had to pull your own arms off of the couch to wrap around her. you thought she must have known. she couldn’t be so stupid. she knew that you knew about her, and what she had always liked.
but then you remembered, beyond the resentment, and grief, of the past few months, of just what she had been through with you. when you lost your very first match in college, natasha had been your friend, still. she was dating the captain of the basketball team, you remembered, but she had gone with you afterwards to walk the long way home, encouraging you and telling you that it would get better. it always would. you only half-believed her.
but then, you won. and won, and won, and won. by the tenth streak of winning, natasha had broken up with said boyfriend, and began hanging around your dorm, the tennis courts, even the cafeterias more often. she went where you went, showed up to most of your games, was the loudest one in the crowd when you secured sets. she would wait for you after your mini celebratory sessions with your teammates, and fans, and friends, all for a moment alone with you. then, she would bring you out for drinks, for dinners, sometimes the occasional walk down memory lane to her dorm. she was kind, she made you laugh, and you were on a streak. so what was there stopping you?
you fell for her just as easily as you fell in love with winning.
to your surprise, she stuck around when you lost a few matches along the way, never letting it phase her, or you. to everyone else’s surprise, she stuck around when you twisted your ankle in your second year of playing. she had left a pattern in her wake, you see, of leaving all of her past lovers when the going got tough, or when they had simply stopped winning. it was inevitable, you thought. but no, not this time. when you fell to your knees during that tournament, screaming in agony as your ankle felt like it was folding in on itself, she was there. she was right beside the medical officer, holding you up as he inspected the injury, face looking even more panicked than yours as they wheeled you off to the hospital.
she was there, as they wheeled you in for surgery, and wheeled you out to recover. she never left, even when the doctors told you it would take months to recover, let alone get back to playing on your level. she helped you recover, was the driving force in your physical therapy success, even became the sole reason that you returned to playing so quickly after your injury. you hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, much less lose her at all. you were too afraid of the possibility of her becoming someone else’s because of your failure in your sport.
natasha stayed through your losing streak. she never got mad, or lost her patience, with you. it had been three years now, with her. she had never lasted in a relationship so long, so had you. she had talked about getting married before, right after college, to which you had entertained, but still never gotten the full grasp of. how could she talk about marrying you, with such a reputation that preceded her? what if you had lost, would she have run off before the altar?
what if you lost tomorrow? you looked at her again, this time, and she was on her phone. she was texting your friends to make sure they came for your match tomorrow. you felt horrible.
“nat.”
she looked up. “yes?”
“tell me it doesn’t matter.”
natasha sat up this time, her hand holding yours. she looked confused. “what doesn’t matter?”
“whether i win or lose tomorrow.”
her face remained unchanged for a moment, but at the quiver of your lip, and the coldness in your hands, she broke her composure. she shook her head slowly, gaze steely. “no.”
“why not?” it was your turn to harden the look on your face. “why won’t you tell me at least that?”
“because,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “you’re the professional. you’ll tell me whether it matters or not.”
you sat up as well. “i just want to know that you’ll love me…no matter what…whether i win or lose tomorrow.”
natasha’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours. she looked down, at your shirt, then away, but never back at you. you pleaded, “natasha, please.”
“no,” she remained firm, “no. i won’t tell you that, because i know you’ll beat her. you’ll win tomorrow. and you’ll go to the grand slams, you’ll be the best tennis player that’s ever played in them, and you’re going to win. every. single. one. of. them.”
“and what if i don’t? not even the grand slams, not even tomorrow? what if i come in second again, after all this time?”
you were growing desperate, and she was growing distant. you suddenly thought that you would have done anything, absolutely anything then, for her to tell you what you wanted to hear. to tell you that she would love you no matter if you won or lost.
natasha watched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, eyes already teary. your hands scrambled to hold her shirt, her waist, any part of her. she held them back, but to stop you from reaching further. then, she held your face again, but this time, it was you that was begging for her. you looked downright pitiful.
she wiped the stray tear off your cheek. she knew what she was going to say would either make or destroy you. “i’ll tell you this instead.”
“please.”
“baby, if you lose the match tomorrow, i’m leaving you. for good.”
–
thwock. thwock. thwock.
princeton parried, the ball is sent to the line. you return it with ease. princeton flicks back, you work twice as hard to send it over.
your moves were clean, cleaner than ever before, aided by a brain filled with rage and a heart filled with fear.
princeton served, out. you served, in. the advantage stood, and the crowd stood to cheer. princeton hit back, you hit harder. it was a game both colleges hadn’t seen in decades. there were talks of both of you dominating the grand slams, even possibly working together, even being the next best duo to ever hit the sport.
break point. the ball whizzes. and finally…after all the pain, the fear, the lost matches and the weight of the world on your shoulders, it was over.
you weren’t quick enough. princeton won.
a/n: i just love pathetic, pitiful characters who are down so bad for natasha romanoff, is that so wrong?
#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x reader#natasha romanoff#black widow#marvel cinematic universe#tennis player! reader#challengers
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you should do a kate martin x reader fic where they are teammates who’ve been dating for awhile and then accidentally go public!!
yes of course! thank you so much for your request :)
Victorious
pairing: kate martin x teammate!reader
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your eyes fluttered opened and you picked up your phone from your bedside table. it read 6:00 AM. you sighed. it was time to get up. you rolled over and were met with your teammate/roommate/girlfriend’s chest. she just laid they’re staring down at you, “good morning sleepy girl! i’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” she stroked your hair and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “big game today, sunshine. you ready?”
you groaned and buried your head into her chest. “nooooo.” kate got out of bed and dragged you with her. you were upset to leave the comfort and warmth of your bed, but you’d go anywhere she went. she grabbed your hand and led you into the bathroom. the two of you began to brush your teeth.
“you gonna shower?” kate asked, moving her eyebrows are you suggestively. you playfully pushed her shoulder as you wiped the excess toothpaste off your lips. “kate!” you exclaimed and laughed at her antics. she snaked her arms around your waist and gave you a playful grin, “whatttt? it’s for good luck!”
“oh stop. we can celebrate tonight when we win.”
kate’s face grew red and she quickly nodded in agreement. you gave her a wink.
there wasn’t much to do to prepare for your game. it was a home game so there was no need to pack your bags. you and kate had a slow morning, with her cooking you guys some breakfast. you were never a morning person until your mornings started to include kate. she was so gentle with you, and you loved the way she helped you wake up to softness and love every morning. she flipped a pancake on the stove and you walked up behind her, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face into her back.
“mm love you so much, kate kat.”
after breakfast, you did your makeup and lightly curled your hair; kate insisting on putting it into a ponytail herself. you, of course, let her. how could you say no to her? you helped kate put her hair into a ponytail then braided it for her.
in usual kate fashion, she couldn’t keep her hands off of you. physical touch was her love language and she just wanted to hold you. that was something she loved about you, you were always down to snuggle up to her. she lifted you up, sitting you on the bathroom counter and peppered your face with kisses. “why aren’t you more excited, y/n? it’s game day! you’re usually so hyped!”
you sighed and looked up at your girlfriend, a worried expression on your face. “kate, can i ask for your advice about something?” she nodded her head as if to say of course and you continued, “i’m just, well, nervous. i didn’t have a good practice yesterday and i’m just so scared to mess up. i don’t want it to be all my fault if we lose.” you looked up at kate waiting expectantly for her reply. she took your hands in hers and stared into your eyes.
“as your girlfriend, i will always be here to support you, win or lose. i’m so proud of you everyday and i see how much your hard work is paying off, pretty girl. as captain, i need you to know that it’s not ever your fault. this game is a team effort and it will take a team effort to win it. you just need to try your best like i know you will. that’s all anyone’s expecting of you, i promise you that.”
you smiled and wrapped your arms around kate’s neck. “you are seriously so sweet. oh my god, kate i could just kiss you. thank you so much for helping, you actually made me feel so much better.”
“don’t mention it, it’s my job baby! however i will take you up on that kiss offer if you don’t mind me.” she snuck several kisses from you before you had to leave for you game.
when you arrived to the gymnasium, coach had you all circle up and gave you a pep talk. after her words of encouragement, she left caitlin and kate to give their pep talks to you. kate held your hand as she spoke to the team, in a last minute’s effort to stay close to you before the fans and media started arriving and you two had to go back to being just teammates and close friends.
you admired kate’s words of affirmation, earlier in your shared bathroom and now on the court. she really was the glue keeping everyone all together. you stared at her face and counted the freckles on her face, “who knew glue could be so cute?” you thought to yourself.
“uh what was that, y/n?” kate smirked at you. oh. maybe you hadn’t just thought that to yourself.
the game started and things were going a bit rocky at first. you’d fumbled a pass, and missed a shot as well. you wanted nothing more than to just cry into kate’s shoulder. you looked over at her and saw she was looking right back at you. she gave you a smile as if to say, ‘you got this. i’m rooting for you!’. you smiled back and she winked at you. you rolled your eyes playfully. she was going to get the two of you caught if she kept acting like that.
with newfound confidence, you played harder than ever. in the third quarter, you even scored a three! each time you made a shot, you looked over at kate and saw her beaming with pride.
the score was 67-68. you guys were losing by one point. with only 10 seconds left you were worried out of your mind. suddenly, you see the ball being passed to you. you weren’t close enough to confidently shoot it, and you looked to see who was open. low and behold, you see kate’s sparkly eyes staring you. of course there was some bias there, but she was your obvious choice. ‘let’s win this babe’ you mouthed her to and passed the ball to her.
The Sports broadcasters announced the Iowa win and you ran to kate screaming. you both were so happy you actually pulled it off. you were so happy in fact that you forgot you two were just teammates. kate lifted you up and spun you around. “oh my god! we did it!! i love you so much pretty girl i knew we could do it!” and you and your whole team just stared at her, shocked.
it took a moment, but eventually it registered for kate what she had just done. she had just revealed your secret romance to the entire media. “you know what? fuck it” you whispered to partly yourself and partly to kate. “i want everyone to know your mine.”
you grab the neck of kate’s jersey and pulled her face down to yours, kissing her softly but deeply. kate was shocked but lent into the kiss. you smiled into it, imagining what crazy edits this moment would be made into. but you didn’t care. at the end of the day, you had kate. and you had a win. you never knew victory could taste so sweet.
ahh all done i hope you like ittttt! please keep sending requests :)
#kate martin x reader#kate martin#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#paige bueckers#wcbb#wcbb x reader#caitlin clark#caitlin clark x reader
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Rely on me | Arlecchino x Reader
Where you are hired as the “mother” of the Hearth to take care of the children and to act as the partner of the ever exhausted Arlecchino.
(Heavily inspired by spy x family chapter 86)
TW: none! Just pure fluff
It’s been a long week.
“So exhausting…” Arlecchino muttered in annoyance as she mentally reviewed all the tasks needed to be submitted to the fatui. She was so tired of it all: the endless requests from the Tsaritsa, the straining tasks with almost no time to complete them, infuriating peers with bigger egos than she ever thought possible.
And all the demands of her work had lead her to work on a weekend, only being able to walk back home to the orphanage at midnight.
“I have a strong feeling she’ll complain..arriving home at this hour.” Arlecchino’s thoughts swirled as her lips formed a bitter line. “I suppose reasoning to her is just another task I have to finish” She concluded, preparing herself for your grievances.
Her hand grasped the metal of the doorknob, twisting it ever so slightly, making sure to be quiet as to not disturb the children sleeping. Her face was serious, ready to see you huffing your complaint.
“Welcome home, Arle!”
You chirped, a soothing tone ringing in the air
…
“…what?” Arlecchino heard you the first time, but her head grew blank at the sight of you. Seeing you and hearing your voice caused an uneasy peace she wasn’t used to, always accustomed to her mind racing from work. For some reason she couldn’t think anymore, and she didn’t know why.
“I said welcome home” you repeated, your smile still as gentle as ever. “you must be tired from working all day” You slowly took a step toward her direction, but were surprised to find the sight before you.
Arlecchino fell to the floor!
“Arle! Are you okay??” You rushed toward her, concern dominating your face as you knelt to her level.
“I’m alright..” She tried to stand up but couldn’t as hard as she tried. She had no clue why. She wasn’t injured or anything, every bone in her body was working perfectly until she saw you. Her mind was able to think rapidly until she heard your voice. It was as if she was carrying the weight of the world before she opened the door..Perhaps you carried all that weight away.
All she could do was look up to find that worried look on your face. “How are the children?” Arlecchino asked, trying to distract from the fact that she plummeted to the floor.
“They’re all fast asleep. I took them out to play today and they got so exhausted they conked out as soon as they went to bed…” You replied, a small smile settling on your face as you remembered the children playing.
“Arle, if you’re that tired, i suggest you do the same!” You uttered, now sitting on the floor in front of the poor Knave.
And all the Harbinger could do was sigh, head slightly tilting forward to lean on your shoulder. She could notice the faint scent of fresh laundry with a hint of Vanilla.
“Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Should I check your temperature?” A slight tinge of anxiety wavered in your question. Arlecchino could tell heavily you were worried about her state.
“No…but i do have a request. Im sorry for placing this burden on you but..would you mind if i asked you to shoulder my share of the housework? Only for today and tomorrow.” She managed to ask, a pang of guilt as she waited for your reply.
“I wouldn’t mind at all, i’d be happy to!” Your eyes squinted as you smiled in reply.
“How strange.” The harbinger thought.
“Why are you happy about this? I thought people detest chores”
“Well, I do agree that chores aren’t the most enjoyable thing …but, i guess what I wanted was to be able to actually take care of you. I enjoy you being able to rely on me a little”
Arlecchino didn’t say anything in reply. How could she when such sweet words were spoken?
“Peruere, I..know that you can do pretty much anything by yourself. And when times are hard, you try to spare me from it. But I don’t think you need to be so perfect all the time. You continued, a slight thump in your heart from the mention of her name. It felt genuine, serene.
“…”
“You shouldn’t have to put up that front so often. So when you asked me for help just now, that made me sort of happy.
“…”
“I want you to be able to relax from time to time, you work so hard even on days off. So please, don’t hesitate to rely on me a little.” You finished, a small tint of embarrassment on your cheeks as you realized how much you confessed. But Arlecchino didn’t mind at all. And you realized she didn’t when she gazed up at you, an uncharacteristic curve of her smile showing.
“Thank you. In all honesty, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
Although her common replies are distinct and straightforward, often not having a convey of emotion. This was different. Her voice wavered as if all of her emotions were coming together. Every part of her felt so relieved, she felt like putty in your hands as you held her in your embrace.
She had never felt so much, until you.
#arlecchino#arlechinno genshin#fatui harbingers#genshin impact#genshin fatui#arlechinno x reader#fluff#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#spy x family#fatui x reader#domestic fluff
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[for @calaisreno's May prompt challenge, which is thusfar h*ckin fun]
2: box
Where are you? John texts, paused in the main doorway of the-- empty-- flat.
He's not worried… yet. Sherlock is a cock, yes, but he's been good with Rosie, really good. Surprisingly good. So good John's stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mostly.
Hi John, this is Molly on Sherlock's phone
'Oh, fantastic,' John mutters as he hangs up his coat.
Who's injured? he shoots back as soon as his fingers allow.
Or, oh God--
Don't tell me he's in jail.
He's not in jail.
Somehow, this is not reassuring. He dispenses with clumsy fingers and hits the Call button instead.
The sounds of A & E snap into his ear and he stills. Then he reaches right back out for his coat. 'Where?'
Molly hesitates. 'I don't think-- I mean, it's all right, I'll have them home in a jiff. It's just a small fracture--'
'Molly,' he grinds out, pounding down the stairs. 'She's my daughter, tell me where she is.'
'Oh!' she says quickly. 'No, Rosie's fine! Completely fine! He'd never let anything-- John, don't be silly-- He'd rather break his own wrist than--' She falters. 'Well. I should probably let him tell you himself, but Rosie is fine. Sherlock is fine, in fact, or very nearly. They were just having a bit of fun.'
John suddenly looks around where he's landed, at the bottom of the stairs with one hand on the front door. There is a suspicious lack of hallway furniture-- Mrs Hudson's table and vase are nowhere to be seen, her umbrella stand empty and shoved back by the door to 221C-- and there is the strange addition of a very large, slightly rumpled cardboard box.
'What the actual f--'
There's fumbling noises on the other end, then Sherlock's voice, sounding only the slightest bit defensive. 'It only took a few iterations to find that the newest boxes work the best.'
'The newest boxes,' John repeats, knowing he heard what he thinks he just heard but wanting like hell to believe otherwise.
'Worked best, yes, do keep up. It was hardly a rigorous study, circumstances being--'
'Sherlock.' John pinches the bridge of his nose, counting to ten in Very Loud Internal Numbers. 'Please don't tell me you and my very young only child were using cardboard boxes as sledges in order to toboggan down the stairs.'
'Alright, then, I won't tell y--'
There's more rustling, and a muffled, 'Oh for goodness' sake, Sherlock.'
'John,' Molly's back with a moment later, using her steeliest voice, which-- to be fair-- has become quite steely in the years he's known her. 'Do not leave Baker Street, please. They'll be home before you know it. And will be needing some food and a nap.'
'Which one?' John says dryly, feeling himself unclench. Rosie is fine. He trusts Molly one hundred percent on this subject. Rosie is fine.
… he finds he keeps repeating that in his head, though, until he actually hears Sherlock's feet on the stairs an hour later.
He pushes through the kitchen door onto the landing, heedless of the half-cooked supper left behind, and doesn't breathe out until he's met Sherlock halfway up and lifted Rosie into his arms. 'Baby girl,' he mutters into her hair, holding her close. 'Are you alright?'
She wriggles with a grunt, and he reluctantly pulls back so she can answer. 'Daddy!' she starts enthusiastically, then babbles out a stream of words John only partially understands and, to be honest, partially tunes out when he clocks the delicate-looking cast peeking out from under Sherlock's cuffs.
They're stood face to face on the stairs, talkative child between them, and John feels strung up tight, balancing on some sharp edge as he searches Sherlock's expression and works out what has happened.
Sherlock has, once again, saved a Watson.
He'd also been the one to get her into the trouble, and he will get a stern lecture in a minute, but John knows in his bones, finally, that his heart is very much in the right place. And Rosie is in his arms, whole and fine and still chattering at them, her fingers playing with his collar.
'You sodding idiot,' John says finally, voice nearly uncooperative. 'You're lucky it was only a fracture.'
'We only used the bottom few stairs,' Sherlock replies, indignant. 'And I had it under control. I would never--'
Without thought, John kisses him, right on his slackened mouth. He's somehow unsurprised by how natural it feels. 'I know, I know. Trust me. You're still an idiot.'
'John?' Sherlock asks tightly, though he hasn't moved away.
'Just. Shut up.' John presses their lips together again, pressure letting Sherlock know he means it, that this isn't just a fluke. 'Let me have this.'
And Sherlock, utterly reliable in this one respect, lets him.
[❤️]
#It's gonna be MAY 2024#Johnlock#Parentlock#Ficlet#First kiss#May prompt challenge 2024#MayPrompts2024
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Not good at saying goodbyes.
part 4/4 - previous.
Lena Oberdorf x reader.
The match day came around. You were glad to be in the starting line-up. Last few days had been a little less insufferable as you tried going back to your routine.
You had been playing great. But not enough to make sure the team scored. As everyone started feeling a little desperate over time running out, you all gathered in the goal area, after managing a corner kick. As the referee gave the go ahead, you all jumped, trying to score a header.
You didn't know if you had miscalculated your actions or if someone else was at fault for it, but your head had hardly collided with another player's.
You instantly fell to the ground. You tried to say something, but your vision had quickly blurred turning black, and there was an awful ringing in your ears.
You had fallen unconscious.
"Y/N! Can you hear me?" Georgia tried to keep as calm as possible, like a captain should.
"Get out of my fucking way! Y/N? Are you okay? Y/N!" no one had ever seen Lena like this. Not in Wolfsburg, not at the national team.
She pushed everyone in her way to kneel right next to you.
"Y/N! Call the medics, the damn medics! Why are they not here yet?"
"Obi calm down! They're here." Lea said while holding her best friend back as you were being put on the stretcher.
"Hey, I'm here! I'm here, I love you...okay?"
she wiggled out of Lea's grip, as she walked, holding your hand as they carried you out of the field.
"Lena!" - they pulled her in a hug, as a small tear ran down her cheek. "You need to concentrate, we only have 25 minutes left. I need you here."
No words came out of her. All she could do was nod.
Twenty-five minutes had never seemed so long. She rant to the locker room to get showered and changed, so she could follow you, wherever you were.
"Do you know where they've taken her?" she asked Giulia. She would definitely know.
"Yes. Everyone is going back to the hotel. We can uber there."
"I'm so sorry. I was so stupid. When I saw you laying unconscious, I was so desperate, I couldn't lose you again." she said sitting on a chair next to you. You were laying down, eyes closed. "I has devastated when you left. I celebrated your birthday every year, made my mom make a cake and all. Until about 14, then it started feeling terrible. So I stopped. I insisted on setting up your stocking for christmas and-"
"You still haven't watched the Hannah Montana movie. I know." you whispered out as best as you could.
"Your awake!"
"Have been since before you got here."
"You were pretending?"
"No, I was napping, they gave me some meds for the headache. They're only waiting for the scan and test results to come back, so they can discharge me. Just a mild concussion."
"Did you just say 'just'? You blacked out! It could have been so much worse!"
"But it wasn't! Do I have a bruise?"
"No. I mean yes. Don't panic."
"Lena-"
"It's Obi."
"Obi, I'm sorry about everything. I was such a foolish child. I've regretted that every single day since then. You won't lose me this time."
"I know. And I'm sorry for the way I have been acting. I've missed you so much. You have no idea. So much has happened."
"I tried my best to keep up with everything. So, national team's best young player?"
"And you! Playing for the best team in the world! Also you clearly play like a spaniard."
"I can't tell if that's a good thing or not."
"It's both. At least you remember the same plays we used to do."
"Excuse me?" the doctor said as he walked in. "Your results are back. You're good. I'll discharge you, but you'll have to take it easy. Not playing or training for two days, just for caution. Also don't recommend you drive. I'll prescribe you medication for the headache you'll definitely have and you have to come in again tomorrow afternoon, for a check. So I can clear you, definitively."
"Okay then, thank you."
"No problem, see you tomorrow."
You both left the room to meet with Giulia in the waiting area.
"Ah good to see you two getting along."
"Thank you for coming too."
"No problem, do you remember anything?"
"Not really anything after hitting my head, until I woke up here."
"You should have seen Lena! 'Please don't leave, I love you!'. No one believed their eyes."
"Awn said you loved me?"
"No I didn't, Giulia shut it!"
"She did! She held your hand all the way out of the field. Even cried a little."
"That's cute. Thank you for being there." you said looking deep into her eyes. As she gave you a reassuring nod.
"Who won the game after all?"
"Not us. But it's fine, we're still winning the championship."
"I can't believe I won't be able to fly back with the team."
"I'll stay over too. Tomorrow is day off anyways." said Obi.
"Well were arrived at the hotel." said Giulia grabbing our attention.
Your bestfriend made sure to walk you to your room. But before she could walk away, you stopped her.
"Do you want to have a sleepover?"
Thank you for this great request! Hope you enjoyed. Sorry for taking so long on the last part 🩷
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Hello! Continuation of "Findling Charlie" (Snow White + Tangled AU) and I take this opportunity to inform that I will officially turn this into a complete fic. I will send the link when it is ready.
Stupid. He felt so stupid. In that room, surrounded by darkness and silence, he could only feel stupid, used, manipulated.
It's so easy, in retrospect, to see all the signs, how certain things didn't make sense.
He was really willing to understand Lilith, to understand that finding Charlie wasn't a priority for her. But this, this was much more than just not wanting to find his daughter. He couldn't even tell it was a postpartum impulse. This was an elaborate plan from the beginning, he could no longer deny that.
Oh, how he wanted to remain in denial. It would be so easy to say that there was some misunderstanding, that perhaps he should wait to hear her side of the story. It would be so easy to say that it was all an elaborate lie from Roo...but he would have to deny his own words.
After all, he recognized it himself. No one knew Charlie existed, and somehow, he ignored that fact all this time.
They supposedly wanted to keep Lilith safe while she was pregnant, and they were supposed to wait until Charlie was a month old, so she was strong enough to survive in hell. She was something completely new, there was no precedent, they were...he was so apprehensive, and Lilith took advantage of that so he wouldn't question her idea.
So how would Roo know about Charlie if she couldn't spy on them? How could any random sinner know about the princess? Now he's supposed to believe that a sinner decided to break into his palace and ran into his daughter by accident? Even he has his limits.
Lucifer leaves the room, feeling exhausted, empty. He looks up and can see the holes he left between the floors in his haste to get to the basement. He spreads his wings and goes up while cleaning up the mess, and it's not until he reaches the room he was in before his encounter with Roo that he thinks, what's the point?
Why fix something? What's left in this palace? A construction devoid of life, only him within its walls. Rooms full of rubber ducks. Walls full of paintings of a false life, paintings he made imagining what his family would be like, what his daughter would be like when she grew up, places they would go.
He has nothing here, the palace could have collapsed on him and it would have made no difference, nothing would have changed. His daughter, Charlie, would still be in that hotel, next to the sinner who raised her as his own.
How could he show up to Charlie and say he'd been looking for her when he did absolutely nothing?
He would love to blame Lilith, to say that she manipulated him, that he let her keep him in check and out of the way. But it doesn't change the fact that he had the choice. He could have gone for a walk through the pride rose bushes or walked through Cannibal Town, just one day and he could have found Charlie a long time ago, and he didn't.
Lucifer looks at his hands and sees Roo's note. It's still in his fist, wrinkled. Roo, for some reason, decided that that sinner should take care of Charlie, and damn, he spent enough time with her to know that the sinner, that Alastor, did a good job.
He looks once again at the books, memories and photographs that Alastor provided for him to meet Charlie, and although they are beautiful memories, he feels that they are not enough, he wants to know more. But he also realizes that he has no place in Charlie's life. Alastor raised her, he did with her everything that he would have wanted to do with his daughter. And on those albums he can see that Alastor wasn't the only one involved. Other sinners were part of that strange family found. Where could he fit in?
He doesn't know, but he desperately wants to be part of it. And do it right this time.
After taking a couple of days off, he arranges a meeting with the Sins. They must be so confused after his sudden visit where he just threw the information at them that he had a daughter and then left when they showed their confusion. The least he owes them is an explanation. He doesn't want to give too many details, but he sees the look on Beel and Ozzie's face and he just can't let them go after Alastor. He doesn't really want to mention Lilith, but he has to if he mentions Roo, and he has to mention Roo because whether he likes it or not, Alastor is innocent in this case. The Sins don't know what to say about it, they don't know whether to congratulate him for having had a daughter and if they can go see his niece or if they should give him some kind of condolence.
Really, nothing changes now that they know. He asks them to stay out of it for now, he will try to keep them informed. This time he is serious, he will maintain communication.
Next on his list is to visit Zestial. Not only because he is the only Overlord he remembers and finds moderately tolerable, but also because Charlie referred to him as "Grandfather Zestial" in her album. He wants to know how informed he is of the situation.
It turns out that Zestial always knew Charlie was his daughter, but he never said anything about it.
"Why?"
"Considering that no one knew about the queen's condition, I simply assumed that the girl was, and excuse the expression, a bastard that you wanted to get rid of."
"How did you know she was my daughter?"
"Anyone who knew you, Your Majesty, would have noticed the resemblance. However, you have been missing for a long time, even before dear Charlie came into this world. And allow me to make a small correction, that you have been involved at her birth, does not make her your daughter. Charlie is Alastor's daughter."
"...you..." what could he say to that? "Does anyone else know? Have you talked to anyone about this?"
"There was no need. My dear friend, Carmilla, has her daughters with her, they practically all came together. She just assumed that it was something similar in the case of Alastor and Charlie, and Carmilla arrived in hell when Charlie was already a little older, she didn't ask questions"
"Could you...do you think you could tell me about Alastor?"
"He has been an enigma since he manifested in this kingdom. He always seems to be thinking about exactly what his next moves will be. His mind is never silent, everything with him seems to be a dance or a game of chess. He built a reputation within just a few months of arriving in hell."
"Do you think he...do you think he's using Charlie?"
"If it were any other sinner, the answer would be yes. But this is Charlie we're talking about, and no matter what anyone might think, all of us who really know Alastor know that he loves his daughter deeply. I don't know what your thoughts are on the family, Your Majesty, but we sinners treasure family, at least some of us do. It is rare to meet them, and often it is a weakness, but Alastor loved his mother in life, and in his death Charlie took that place. Of course, Alastor always has his defenses up, but he encouraged little Charlie to call me grandfather with the utmost respect, and that, personally, is an achievement and a source of pride for me."
Lucifer has no more questions. He finishes the cup of tea that Zestial offered when he arrived, and says goodbye, requesting that he keep him informed about the affairs of the Pride Ring. It's not his priority right now, but he's still the king of hell, he should be present in important matters. At least the Overlords seem to have things in order. He also asks Zestial not to talk about this to anyone.
"I would never cause any inconvenience to my beloved granddaughter...I earnestly beg you, Your Majesty, to do the same. Please refrain from being an inconvenience to her. Rest assured that if you hurt her or Alastor, there are many of us who would not mind your power, we will find a way to make you pay for such a crime."
It's funny that that, in some way, calmed him down. He thanks Zestial for his time, and returns to the palace.
After that conversation, he once again gives his full attention to the albums. Look at each page with absolute concentration.
After a few days, he still doesn't know what to do. He couldn't sleep thinking about that. He knows he should apologize, to Alastor for how he treated him, and mainly to Charlie for, well, everything.
He thinks about Zestial's words, and knows it's true, Charlie is not his daughter, but he still wants to be a part of her life. Like some sinners, he also treasures family, and he has already lost his twice, first heaven, then Lilith. He wants to be part of Charlie's family, somehow, and he has to figure out how.
His only option now is to approach Charlie's father, perhaps, if he convinces him, he can open the doors to this new family for him.
Open a portal, right into Alastor's room. When he sees him, it feels like he's really getting a good look at him for the first time.
He is a sinner, a cannibal, an Overlord, one powerful and dangerous, and from what he has learned, cruel, sadistic and manipulative. But remember the photographs, the memories with Charlie. Remember Zestial's words. He remembers his previous interactions with Alastor. He remembers how Alastor, although always present, was never hostile towards him, and now he realizes that it is because he was not Alastor's priority. He was just doing the same thing he's done all these years, taking care of Charlie.
Alastor watches him from his place on the couch in his room, with a book in his hands and soft jazz playing in the background on this quiet night. Alastor waits for him to speak, and after a moment of silence, he only raises an eyebrow, questioning his presence.
Lucifer really wants to know more, not only about Charlie, but also about the sinner, the father who stands before him. And he wants to make sure he gets it right this time.
"Can you tell me about my d...can you tell me about Charlie? Please?"
👀
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Through the Phone
pairing: jennifer jareau x cowgirl fem reader
category: smut, fluff
warnings: vibrator use r receiving
word count: 943
summary: you're horny when jj's on a case so she instructs you through the phone
To put it simply, JJ was away on a case and I was horny. Really horny. She was five states away but the only thing I could think about were her fingers knuckle deep inside of me.
texas hold 'em 🤠- babyyyy
Honey 🍯- Yeah?
texas hold 'em 🤠- need you
I took a picture of my breasts popping a bit out of my bra and sent it to her.
Honey 🍯- Y/n
texas hold 'em 🤠- jj i need you
Honey 🍯- Don't touch yourself unless I say
texas hold 'em 🤠- that's not fair
texas hold 'em 🤠- you're not even here
Honey 🍯- Drop the attitude
texas hold 'em 🤠- can i please touch myself
Honey 🍯- No
texas hold 'em 🤠- that's mean
Honey 🍯- Behave. I'll call you later.
I huffed and shut off my phone. How did she still have so much control over me when she wasn't even in state. But I wasn't going to disobey. I wanted to be good for her.
It felt like hours passed until I finally heard my phone vibrate. I picked it up and immediately answered the call. "JJ please-"
"Get the vibrator from the nightstand." She cut me off and I could tell she was in a bad mood by the look on her face and I knew how scary she could get so I got the vibrator without protest. "Highest setting to your clit. No coming tiI I say so." I let out a high pitched whine as it came in contact with my clit.
"Feels good?" I nodded frantically, propping the phone up against the headboard so she could see me. "Good." She bit her lip as she watched me.
"Fuck...JJ I need to come. Can I please come."
"Not yet."
"But I'm going to-"
"Not yet. Can you put on your hat for me?" I moaned and grabbed my hat from above my bed, putting it on with a shaky hand. I knew seeing me in my "cowgirl" attire turned her on even more. "Fuck you look so pretty." She praised.
"JJ I'm gonna come-"
"Hold it." Her demeanor changed completely.
"But I can't-"
"This is your fault for sending me that picture."
"Jayje I'm sorry. Please...can I come?"
"No." I didn't think I could hold it back any longer.
"JJ-"
"The more you beg the longer I'm gonna make you wait." I whined and squeezed my eyes shut, tensing every muscle in my body to try and hold it off.
Another 30 seconds passed before she finally let me release. "You can come now." I let out a sigh of relief that mixed with a moan as I came. It seemed to drag on five times as long as it normally did and it didn't take long for it to get overwhelming. I took the vibrator off my clit and panted.
"F-fuck."
"Again."
"What?"
"Again." She repeated.
"I can't."
"Yes you can."
"No...no JJ I can't." I wiped the sweat off of my face and took my hat off of my head. "I really can't."
"Can you look at me baby?" She asked through the phone. I lifted my head slightly, my eyes half lidded. "Breathe baby...breathe." I swallowed thickly and took deep breaths.
"Felt...so...good." I whispered between pants.
"I'm sure it did hon. Can you walk?"
"I think so. I really need water." I grabbed the phone and stood up on shaky legs, walking to my kitchen to get some water.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm ok...why?"
"We've never had sex through the phone before and I'm not there with you for cuddles and aftercare. How are you holding up?" She repeated.
"Good." I walked back to my bed and flopped down, some of the cold water spilling on me. I shivered at the feeing but it felt nice. "How are you?"
"I'm good. The case should be finished by tomorrow so I'll be back tomorrow night or the morning of the next day, ok?"
"Mhm." I slumped back against the pillows and cuddled up to one of her hoodies, wanting to feel a little bit like she was here. "I miss you."
"I miss you too baby."
"But I think I miss you more though."
"I think you're wrong." I giggled and took another sip of water. "Have you eaten anything today?"
"Yeah. I had some eggs and a sandwich. You?"
"A bagel and a sandwich. I'm about to order some room service right now."
"I wish we had room service."
"How about I act as room service when I get back home?"
"When you get home we're having sex." She laughed as I took another sip of water. "I've missed that so much."
"If you had to give up sex or cuddling what would you give up?" My eyes widened at her question.
"Um...probably sex. There's nothing better than being close to you, you know? It's really comforting to come home and have someone that's willing to cuddle me and give me hugs when I want and need them. I've never had that before." My voice got quieter as I kept speaking.
"I'm happy to be that person for you sweetheart." I smiled softly and relaxed, feeling like I could fall asleep any second. "You should sleep. You look really tired."
"It's hard to sleep without you."
"I know baby. But I'll be back soon. Just get all my hoodies and hug them, ok?"
"Ok." I grabbed five of her hoodies and laid them out, hugging them tightly. "I miss you and love you so much."
"I miss you and love you more. I'll see you soon baby. Good night."
"Good night."
#x reader#criminal minds#jennifer jareau#jennifer jareau x reader#wlw post#lgbtq#jennifer jareau x you
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Pinch Me
Gally x reader
summary: Gally isn't dead after all. In fact, he's very much alive. And so is that weird feeling in your stomach whenever you look at him.
a/n: god the lack of maze runner fics on my blog is unbelievable!!! needed to change that desperately
maze runner masterlist | main masterlist
You eye Gally carefully from the side as you wait. There's only one telescope and it's not like you're gonna line up behind Thomas to use it - no, you take the time to sit down on the ground and narrow your eyes at the newly un-dead glader next to you instead.
He's taller than when you'd last seen him. You'd noticed how much he'd grown the very first second you'd lain eyes on him. But he's got broader, too. He looks older, much older. More like an adult now. And that hoodie suits him. A little too well, actually.
"You're staring", Gally says, pulling you from your silent assessment of him. He doesn't even turn to look back at you. Some voice in the back of your head pipes up, tells you that you should probably feel embarrassed that he's caught you - but you don't, somehow. Instead, you hum in agreement. Yeah, you had been staring. You are staring.
"Are you trying to check if I'm real or what?", he asks with a chuckle, one that's surely supposed to cover up the fact that he sounds quite a bit nervous underneath. It doesn't really help. You hear the shake in his voice anyway.
It has you grinning just a little.
"Honestly?", you smile, trailing your eyes along him once more. "I kind of am."
He looks back at you then, finally, turns his head to yours and meets your eyes.
"You wanna pinch me to make sure?", he asks, seemingly serious with his eyebrows raised, but with a twinkle in his eyes that you've rarely seen in them. Your grin widens even further.
Without another word, you lean forward and pinch his arm. Just like that.
He doesn't even flinch.
He's warm under your fingertips, warm despite that thick, woolen hoodie he's wearing that looks so comfortable you honestly want to steal it from him. You pull back with a satisfied grin.
"Very much real", you approve, and then the corners of his lips tug up and you almost black out. Your heart really skips a beat. Just because he's smiling back at you. Oh, lord.
You settle a little further back and let out a breath.
"I'm glad you're not dead, Gally", you mutter, trying to keep your voice down so Newt and Thomas won't necessarily hear you. It's not that you want to keep it a secret, you just want to keep it private. It doesn't concern them. This is something between you and Gally. Something personal. Something that tugs at you and pulls you to him.
You don't know what it is exactly.
Maybe just relief, relief that at least one other glader is alive after you've already lost so many others. Maybe it's happiness, happiness to see an old friend. Or an old acquiantance? An old.... God, you don't even know what you and Gally were back then. Two people who threw glances at each other, who smiled at each other, who... Did barely anything else for the three months you'd spent there before Thomas had come up the box. Two people, three months and absolutely nothing that happened.
Ever.
But now he's back. And that something that never happened? That's back now, too.
...
You're nowhere near safe, really. You're anything but safe. You're the absolute, complete opposite of safe. You're running through a city on fire, your legs burning, burning, burning with the strain of carrying yourself- Fuck, fuck, fuck!
You can see the aircraft already. It's right there, you just need to run a little faster. If you had any oxygen left in your lungs, you'd shout for Minho and Gally to check if they're still right behind you - but you don't have the oxygen and you don't have the time either, so you push on, on and on until you're close, closer and closer and then, finally, inside the aircraft. You collapse onto the floor and gulp down what feels like a litre of air.
"Serum", you wheeze. "Serum. Newt."
You hear a body collapsing close to you, then another. You force your eyes open and turn your head to one side - Gally, his chest heaving and his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to calm down.
You're safe.
He's safe.
And you're both still alive.
Your ears ring so loudly that you barely hear how Jorge starts the aircraft. You don't care, either.
You're safe. And alive.
For the moment.
And that's all that matters.
So you steady a palm against the floor, heave yourself up and reach over him. Your hand comes down next to his head just as he opens his eyes.
Fuck.
Your heart is racing. You don't know if it's him or the adrenaline. You're not really bothered to think about it either, to be honest. He's too close to think. So close. Closer than ever before.
And you truly are drunk on adrenaline. Which is definitely the only goddamn reason for why you lean down, just like that, and press your lips to his.
You catch him off guard. You catch yourself off guard, too.
He tastes like sweat and blood, bitter and metallic and absolutely perfect considering you're still very much in a life-threatening situation, blood rushing in your ears and minds reeling with the heaviness of everything that's happening.
You shouldn't be kissing him. You shouldn't be planted half on top of him, with your hands shaking and your body so heavy you almost collapse. And then his fingers close around your waist and you do collapse, right on top of him.
He's broad and tall and most definitely more comfortable than the floor. Fuck, his hands on you feel so good. They're so wide and big and he's such a good kisser, his lips against yours so perfect.
God, how have you never done this before? He's always been right there, you've always felt that tug. And now that you've given into it, you never ever want to stop again.
He's heavenly. And he's holding you so firmly, so easily on top of him. He's so broad and tall and comfortable and firm and perfect and-
"Shit!"
Jorge's voice startles you so hard you flinch away from Gally, your head jerking up, your eyes searching the inside of the aircraft -
Everyone's staring at you.
Absolutely everyone.
Oh, god.
Oh, lord.
Oh, fucking hell.
Heat rushes to your cheeks. With a start, you push off of Gally and turn onto your back again. Your eyes squeeze shut as your breath evens out. Slowly, but steadily. Ever so steadily.
You can't think.
You're exhausted. Simply and just exhausted. This entire day has been too goddamn exhausting. And it's not even over yet. It's nowhere near over.
But as Gally reaches out for you, as he slips his hand into yours and interlocks your fingers... Yeah, you'll be fine. You'll be just fine.
#x reader#gally x reader#gally tmr#tmr#maze runner#the maze runner#gally maze runner#tmr gally x reader#maze runner gally x reader
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since i'm back in my stucky feels, i just need to know why they chose "it's been a long long time" to reintroduce bucky to steve. i mean what in the actual fuck were they thinking if they didn't want us to be absolutely unhinged about them?
#HAVE YOU EVEN LISTENED TO THE LYRICS????#THEY MAKE ME INSANE#'NEVER THOUGHT THAT YOU WOULD BE / STANDING HERE SO CLOSE TO ME'#'THERE'S SO MUCH I FEEL THAT I SHOULD SAY / BUT WORDS CAN WAIT UNTIL SOME OTHER DAY'#'HAVEN'T FELT LIKE THIS MY DEAR / SINCE I CAN'T REMEMBER WHEN'#'YOU'LL NEVER KNOW HOW MANY DREAMS / I'VE DREAMED ABOUT YOU / OR JUST HOW EMPTY THEY ALL SEEMED WITHOUT YOU'#anyway#ANYWAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY#i mean it's been what? ten years? whenever that fucking movie came out#AND I STILL THINK ABOUT WHAT A DELIBERATE CHOICE THAT SONG WAS#fuck meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee#anYWAYyyyy#stucky#captain america#marvel#steve x bucky#bucky barnes#steve rogers#catws
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Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]
Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”
In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor.
Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader
Word Count: 7.9k
Sigewinne is evil.
You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)
It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.
You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.
Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.
You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.
…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.
“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”
Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—
“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”
And you’d responded with—
“Errand girl.”
“What?”
“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”
—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.
“Hmm. Very convincing.”
The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.
So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.
Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.
Safe to say, the two of you get along.
…which Sigewinne notices.
You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.
The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.
However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.
Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.
“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.
“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”
Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.
The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.
But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.
“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.
“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.
“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”
You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.
“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”
“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.
“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”
Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.
“What?”
She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.
“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”
Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.
Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.
“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”
Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.
“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”
You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.
Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.
“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.
“Of course!”
“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.
You nod.
“I see.”
“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”
She cutely huffs.
“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”
“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”
“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.
“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”
You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.
“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”
“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne.
“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”
The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair.
“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”
“I suppose that’s fair.”
Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—
“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”
“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.
“Hmm…”
He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting.
Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.
“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.
“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”
“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”
You shake your head.
“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”
Sigewinne cutely laughs.
“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”
Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.
“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”
“Good! I want both of you to drink up.”
Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?
“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.
Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.
You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today?
You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.
“Oh! Y/N!”
Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.
“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”
“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.
His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.
“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.
“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.
Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.
“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”
You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.
There’s sweat beading on his brow.
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”
You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.
Your tummy starts to ache.
“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”
Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face.
“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”
You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing.
What’s this about doctor’s orders?
You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.
His pants feel too tight.
“Sigewinne, you did not—”
There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing.
He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.
“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…
“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”
She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.
“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”
“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.
“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”
Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor.
Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…
So, she decides to cut to the chase.
Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.
“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”
“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.
“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”
“Sigewinne—”
Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.
Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.
“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”
Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.
“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”
With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.
A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.
"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."
You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.
You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.
"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."
Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.
"Have I been acting like a hardass?"
"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…
"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."
"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.
"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"
"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."
"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.
However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .
So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.
"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"
"Ah, you caught that."
He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.
"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."
"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"
"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight.
"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"
Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth.
"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."
You pout.
"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"
"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."
Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.
You sigh.
"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"
You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.
"And?"
You take a deep breath.
"That you're a cute puppy."
He blinks in shock.
"...excuse me?"
Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.
"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."
For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs.
Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak.
With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair.
Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.
He coughs, pulling himself back together.
"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."
You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.
The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.
"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."
You swallow, anticipating his next words.
"Would you be…interested in having sex?"
Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.
"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded.
"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"
"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head.
"We are."
In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.
Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.
You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.
You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another.
Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.
“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.
“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.
“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”
Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.
When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.
“Wh—”
Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.
“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.
“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.
“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.
“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”
Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.
Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.
“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”
His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue.
“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.
And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.
So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.
…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.
Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.
No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.
Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.
The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.
Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…
“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.
“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light.
“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”
You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.
However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.
With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.
Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.
Shit, he thinks.
His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.
There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—
“Let’s get you right side up.”
—and the world spins again.
Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.
“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.
You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.
You glance down at his lap.
“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”
“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.
“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”
Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.
“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.
“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”
His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.
It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.
“Here we are.”
Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots.
By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.
His lips twitch into a little smile.
“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”
Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.
“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”
Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.
In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.
“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…”
He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt.
“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.
“Why? Because you like it too much?”
He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them.
Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.
“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…”
His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.
“...what say we continue like this, hm?”
Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy.
His icy eyes catch yours.
“Any objection?”
“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets.
Wriothesley nods—
“Good.”
—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.
Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.
His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.
It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.
Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him.
And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.
“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.
Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.
“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—
Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!
“Fuck! ”
You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.
The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.
…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.
“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.
You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.
Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you.
The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.
“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.
His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.
Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…
Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.
Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.
So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.
The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.
“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”
Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.
Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.
“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin.
“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”
You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.
Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.
He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.
Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.
To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.
“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.
Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.
“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.
You can’t take it anymore.
Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.
He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy.
His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.
It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.
The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.
He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.
After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.
…only to realize that you’re laughing.
“...puppy…”
He props himself up, glancing at you.
“What?”
“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”
You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.
“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”
His hand rubs against your waist.
“...right?”
Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.
“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”
Wriothesley chuckles.
“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”
“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.
“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.
You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.
“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.
“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”
Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.
The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.
For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath.
…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.
“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”
“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”
You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.
“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”
“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.
“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”
His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?
“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.
“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”
The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.
“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”
“Sounds good.”
The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle.
Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.
“So, I’ll…see you later?”
His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.
“You’ll see me later,” you promise.
With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.
Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.
To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.
…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.
With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.
When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.
“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”
Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.
“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”
“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.
As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.
“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”
Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.
“...maybe.”
Sigewinne smiles.
That’s good enough for her.
#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley smut#wriothesley genshin#genshin fic#bean fic#fic#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin smut
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imagine you’re running late, trying to move some laundry, because of course as the inferior sex, you do the cooking and the cleaning
you’re almost done moving your clothes when you see your favorite sock stuck in the back of the machine, you try to stick your arm as far into the machine as possible but you still can’t reach the sock
you maneuver your body until your head and both arms are in the machine, you successfully grab your sock but when you go to pull your body out of the machine you find you are stuck
you wiggle and squirm but can’t seem to get out of the washing machine
your partner was supposed to pick you up for a date later (you had left them a little note hoping to suprise them when they got home) so you knew eventually someone would come to your rescue
20 minutes later you’re scared shitless when you hear a loud knock at your door, it can’t possibly be your partner because they have a key and it’s way too early for them to be back
you start to panic a little but try to ration that a burglar wouldn’t try to knock first before entering, you hear the loud knock again followed by your door opening
“maintenance”
you don’t know if you should holler for help or pray to god that they don’t enter your laundry room, you’re beyond humiliated at your predicament
luck was not on your side, you hear heavy footsteps approach you, you hear a low whistle behind you
“and what do we have here?” rumbles a deep voice
you swallow your pride, “hi, um, sorry about this, wo-would you be able to help me … please?”
large hands grab your hips, you naively think you’re about to be set free
when instead of attempting to pull you out of the machine, one hand retracts and lands a hard smack on your ass
you scream in pain and jolt a little in the machine
“what the hell is wrong with you?!” you scream trying harder to wiggle your way out
“well sweetheart, when i enter a house and find a note that says i can’t wait for all the dirty things you want to do to me and then find a hot babe with an incredible ass on display, i have to oblige and give them the fucking of a lifetime”
you still at his words, he had found the note you left for your partner, he thinks you set up this elaborate plan to have wild sex with a stranger
“no you don’t understand that was meant for my partner i am seriously stuck please help me get out” you start pleading and begging
“sure, and i’m sure you’re gonna keep screaming no and for me to stop, even while your cunt squeezes and cums on my hard cock over and over again, is that the game we’re gonna play tonight sweetheart?”
you really start to thrash inside the machine, it doesn’t matter what you say, this stranger is about to r4pe your tiny holes
he shushes you as he continues to grope your ass with his giant hands
he flips the skirt you had been wearing up over your ass, giving him a perfect view of your thong
your boobs hadn’t quite made it into the machine, he yanks your tank top down freeing your titties, smushing them against the cold machine
the cold instantly makes your nipples hard and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips
“oh is someone finally getting excited?”
the strangers rough hands pinch your nipples as you start back up your protests of no’s
he gives your titties a rough smack and you scream and jolt in the machine again
he alternates between painful pinching and rough slapping, you start crying with how rough he’s being
“doesn’t matter how much you protest princess, i know you’ll be soaked when i go check on your princess parts again”
you refuse to believe him, but when his hands stop abusing your tits and go to remove your thong, you can feel the sticky trail being pulled from you
you feel his rough fingers collecting the juices at your enterance, the embarrassment of it all makes you leak around his hand even more
he wipes your girl juice along your thighs and all over your ass, the more his fingers just barely touch your cunnie to collect more, the more you drip for him
you hate how your body is betraying you
he removes his fingers and you hear some shuffling, you emotionally try to prepare yourself to be thrusted in to
you weren’t expecting to feel a wet tongue
you werent expecting to feel a wet tongue eating out your ass
you try to squirm but in the process accidentally push back more onto his tongue
his big hands deliver a hard smack to your thighs before pinning them down and holding them in place
“i can also go in dry baby doll”
you totally still at the implication he’s going to fuck your ass
you whimper and cry more
he removes one hand from your thigh and starts to play with your inferiority hole while he continues to eat out your asshole, he alternates between rubbing your nub, a little too hard, and roughly fingering your fuck hole
you don’t know how but his rough administrations make you have cummies
you clench the fingers inside you tightly as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm
before he stands he spits a glob of saliva right on top of your asshole
seconds later he’s rubbing his hard cock up and down your slit, collecting all of your girl juices as you continue to leak
without warning he starts to slowly and painfully shove his dick into you
each inch is excruciatingly painful and his dick seems to go on forever and ever
by the time he bottoms out you think you might pass out, there has to be at least eight inches of dick in your freshly r4ped asshole
he stills for a moment and decides to abuse your body some more while you adjust to his length
he smacks your ass and your titties, runs your overstimulated clit too hard and too fast
when he’s done playing with your body he grips your hips painfully and begins to piston in and out of your ass
he sets a brutal pace from the start, roughly fucking you against the washing machine
your abused and sensitive tits sway with each thrust, causing them to smack against the machine over and over again
you lose track of time, only knowing the sensation of your asshole being abused
without warning you hear a guttural grunt and feel a warmth deep in your gut
the maintenance man pulls out with a plop
“don’t worry baby, i’ll make sure to get a video of your gaping asshole leaking my hot sperm into your delicious cunt”
you’re horrified at every aspect of what he just said, your stomach churning at that the thought of such a video getting uploaded to the internet
as he said, you can feel the cum leaking out of your open asshole, slowly dripping towards your inferiority hole
as the sperm starts to pool, his fingers are on you again
or rather in you, his fingers easily slide into your gaping asshole, collecting his own jizz
to your continued horror he then shoves his fingers deep into your cunt, fucking his cum into the proper fuck hole
you aren’t on any birth control
his fingers move in and out of you slowly, you’re humiliatingly wet so he has no problem getting a few in you
“should i cum in your pussy next or try to get my fist in your ass?”
#rough cnc#nsft concept#an@l wh0re#an@l slvt#wet and needy#dumb slvt#dumb wh0re#use me pls#send me threats#corruption kink#r4p3 fantasy#r4p3 kink#r4p3b4it#r4p3 m3#cvmslut#cvmdump#c0cksleeve#hand k!nk#hand kink#send dirty asks#attention wh0r3#dumb puppy#cvm wh0re#pain k!nk#slap my ass#free use slvt#f1ngering#fr33use#cnc free use#f
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Don't feed him he'll come back
simon riley x neighbour! reader
summary: The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can't help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.
word count: 1.6k
part 2 here
There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment block. Though it feels more accurate to say he’s an occasional visitor. He comes and goes, like a lost spirit, unsure and aimlessly wandering. He slinks silently through the hallways like a wraith in the few instances when he is there.
The first time you see him is just a glimpse from the corner of your eye, a large hulking shadow standing at the door next to your apartment as you step out from yours.
Your feet stutter to a stop, the landlord had mentioned a neighbour but in the 3 months you’d lived there you’d never seen him. As if sensing your eyes lingering curiously on his form, deep brown eyes turn to meet yours. You can make out no other details of his face, the black material of his balaclava obscuring most of his features.
A century could have passed in those few seconds and you doubt you’d have noticed. Despite the weariness in his gaze, you found yourself pulled into the deep pools of those stunning eyes. Like a predator, his gaze never moves from your body, even as you offer him a friendly smile and wave before walking down the hall to continue your day.
You’d heard the uneasily whispered tales of the Ghost that haunted the apartment next to yours from some of the older tenants, though you’d never put much stock into the idle gossip. His burning gaze bores into your back and follows until the doors of the elevator close and you suppose you should feel intimidated.
It’s hard to conjure up any such feelings, even with the knowledge of the wariness he elicits in others. It’s hard to fear the hulking figure of the Ghost when he had such sad eyes.
He hid it well but you recognised the loneliness that lined his shoulders, the bone-deep exhaustion for life that managed to slip through tiny cracks in his self-imposed shield.
You suppose at that moment that even Ghosts can be haunted.
Maybe that’s why you found yourself knocking on his door later that evening with the tray of pasta bake. Initially, you’d made a large batch to have a few days left over for yourself. Yet just as you opened your fridge you’d hesitated, mind flashing to the man next door. Did he have any food for himself? There was likely nothing fresh, and he’d seemed too exhausted to pull himself to the grocery store during the brief encounter earlier.
Donning your Crocs, you’d marched over and knocked on his door before it properly registered that you were in pyjamas. The door swings open and your eyes trail up, the balaclava is gone, replaced with a simple black face mask letting you glimpse blond hair.
“Sorry if this is a bit intrusive, but I figured you probably didn’t have any food so…” you trailed off, pushing the tray towards him, expectantly waiting for him to grab it. It took a few seconds before he robotically took the tray, probably out of sheer confusion more than anything else. Stepping back before he could return the food you offered one last smile before fleeing to the sanctuary of your apartment.
Two days later you exit your apartment to an empty and cleaned tray, a small note with a simple ‘thank you’ placed within.
His name’s Simon, and apart from an introduction and the occasional dish left at his door, you don’t actually interact with him again until nearly a month later. And that had simply been a case of forced proximity a la broken elevator style.
Simon remained unflappable as ever, and it’s at that moment you decide to try and get a reaction that isn’t stoic silence.
“A bear walks into a bar and says give me a whiskey and …cola” Brown eyes turned to look at you curiously, brow raised to let you know he was listening. “Why the big pause? Asks the bartender. The bear shrugged. I’m not sure, I was born with them.”
The joke doesn’t land, silence is the only reward for your comedy genius. “Ok, playing hardball. Alright then… Why did Susan fall off the swings?” Again, there is no answer, but a glance at his relaxed posture indicates he’s listening. “Because she had no arms.”
No laugh but you blaze ahead.
“Knock knock.” It takes a few seconds but with a playful glare, he responds quietly and with a tinge of amusement.
“Who’s there?” It’s not the first time you’ve heard his voice, but it still births a serious case of butterflies in your gut that takes more than a few seconds to fight down and regain your composure.
“Not Susan.” You can’t stop the peal of your giggles at that one, and while you swear you see the corner of his cheek curve upwards a little it’s not enough for you to be satisfied.
“I can’t believe it’s come to this, but I guess it’s time for the big guns. You better prepare yourself Riley 'cause I’m done holding back.” You pause for a few seconds to let the anticipation settle.
“What is… Whitney Houston’s favourite type of coordination?” You take a deep breath before positively belting out, “HAAAAAAAND-EEEEEYE.” Whether it’s the shock from the sudden musical number or the joke itself you’re finally rewarded with a faint chuckle.
“Aha!” you shout in triumph, a smug grin splitting your face, “I heard that laugh, you can do more scowl!”
The doors suddenly open with a ding and Simon pushes off the wall, but not before rolling his eyes playfully your way. Silence once again descends during the walk to your respective apartments, yet it’s not uncomfortable. Swiping your key card it’s just as you step through the threshold that you hear it,
“Why did the chicken go the seance? To get to the other side.” Whipping your head around, you are met with the sight of his door closing behind his large frame, but a win is a win and you celebrate mentally over the exchange.
The next time you leave a dish at his door it comes with a written joke. Sure enough, a few days later you received one back. The months start to blur, and your Ghost comes and goes, but the jokes remain.
Month three sees you snagging his number, a daily joke sent his way even when he can’t respond. Because as much as Simon Riley tried to hide his hurts from the world, he couldn’t hide them from you.
You’ve loved a soldier before in your brother, can see the signs and smell the gunsmoke and blood from miles away. Apart from his team, it becomes obvious the man has nobody left, and believes he doesn’t deserve to be cared for.
You’re not foolish enough to think you can be that for him, but you are understanding enough to give him the choice. So you continue to send him jokes, puns, pictures of your cat Bingbong and anything that you think will get him to at least smile.
Three months turns to six turns to eight. He’s not physically there most of the time but you take every opportunity he is to coax him from the loneliness of his apartment like a stray kitten.
Once-a-week dinners at least. Freely sharing your life’s story without expecting anything in return. One evening you’d plopped your chunky tuxedo cat down on his lap and watched him freeze, hands hovering with wide eyes as he considered the ball of fur making biscuits on his thigh.
It was cute. He was cute. Even when he whipped around to glare when you took a photo, the corners of his lips downturned and tugged at the scars on his face. His bare face wasn’t necessarily a new sight but it causes your breath to hitch nonetheless.
Something you think he notices given the way his lips quirked up suddenly in a smirk. Rolling your eyes you huffed before plonking yourself down next to him on the couch. Bingbong doesn’t scramble onto your lap like you expect, instead deciding to remain on his new favourite human, traitor.
You pay very little attention to the movie even though you’d chosen it, too acutely focused on the large bulk of Simon next to you. Your shoulder rests against his arm, his body heat emanating from beneath his hoodie and absorbing into your skin.
You’ve never been one to fall asleep during movies, but there’s something about Simon’s presence that soothes you, lulling you into a restful slumber as you slump against his chest. Bingbong meows his discontent as you accidentally squish him, jumping away with a huff, none of which you notice.
It’s the sun shining straight onto your face through the open blinds that wakes you the next morning, a groan of confusion leaving your lips as you stretch and look around to orient yourself.
Sitting up, the blanket that you just now realised covered your form fell down to your waist. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes your phone falls to the floor when you stand, the screen flicking on to display the time.
It’s not until you sleepily stumble into your bedroom, plugging your nearly dead phone in and face-planting onto your pillow that you realise Simon must have tucked you in. The smile that covers your face is so wide it is painful and you fall asleep once more, dreaming of the phantom sensation of his arms wrapped around you.
#x reader#cod mw x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#ghost cod
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MORNING LOVE — GOJO SATORU
content warning: pwp, pussy whipped gojo is my favorite gojo, sex in the kitchen, very light spanking, dirty talk, hint of cnc.
word count: 0,6k
note: this is a follow up to this piece right here. i hope you enjoy it :)!
if there was anything you learned from dating satoru, it was the fact that he was all about touching you. whether it be a hand resting on your thigh, or his lips pressed to your cheek as he drills into you from behind--the man couldn’t get enough of you.
you tried to stop him, tried your best to tell him to wait at least until you were done with breakfast before touching you. but the man was on a mission the moment he saw you dancing in his shirt in the kitchen. and you dare ask him to wait?
“toru--the pancakes,” you cry out the last part, his big hand reaching over to fondle with your boobs. he was incredibly touchy, always all over you like you could escape at any moment (you obviously couldn’t with his massive weight on top of you).
you feel a little guilty to be doing this in the kitchen and over your counter, but his cock was drilling into you so well. you didn’t know why you were so sensitive this morning, perhaps you were ovulating and so your body felt like putty the moment satoru put his hands on you.
he didn’t even bother taking off your shirt, simply pushed it up and let out a ‘fuck’ at the sight of your ass. this made you push back on him, whining when he delivered a harsh smack to the skin.
“later baby--fuck, I promise.” he was out of breath, hands roughly grabbing your hips to keep you in place. he loved having this much control over you, to see you trying to run away from his cock. only for him to hold you in place and force you to take it, force delicious sounds out of your throat.
he grins lazily when you try to look back at him and your eyes are glossed over, lips parted and face contorted in pleasure. you look like you’re trying to say something, but the pleasure consuming you wiped every coherent thought out of your head.
“oh baby, you’re so pretty,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the back of your ear, chuckling when your breath stuttered. you were always so weak, so easily breakable when he had his dick inside of you.
“oh god--satoru!” you cry out when his hand travels down, rubbing at your clit all while his other hand lets go of your hip to press on your stomach. his pace is unforgiving, a string of curses leaves his mouth when he feels you clenching around him as you approach your orgasm.
“that’s it baby, come on, come on,” he hisses out, his chin resting on your shoulder to peek at your face. he especially loved how fucked out you looked when you coated his dick with your juices.
“that’s right, give it to me. all of it, I can take it. take all what your pussy gives me--shiit, you feel so good,” it’s his turn to whine, his forehead resting on your shoulder when you finally reach your orgasm. your pussy felt like heaven, it was a miracle that he held in for so long.
his orgasm washes over him soon after yours, and you’re both left a heaving mess. satoru refuses to pull out even when you whine at him to do so, only presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder and hums.
“if I pull out, it will be a mess,”
“then what should we do?”
“the paper towels are right there, lemme grab some.”
“...you’re unbelievable.”
2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.
#moon's works#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo smut#jujutsu gojo#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen headers#jujutsu kaisen imagine
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You’ve just moved in with Simon. Great.
There’s one slight problem, though: Due to the nature of his work, the guy interprets everything as an order. And executes accordingly.
———————————————————————
You sit on the kitchen’s table, enjoying breakfast together, when you notice the full trash bin.
“The trash needs to be taken out,” you casually mention, not giving it too much thought.
But, to your surprise, Simon shoots up from his chair like a coiled spring, leaving his half-eaten food behind. “Roger that,” he responds and jogs towards the trash bin, leaving you baffled.
“Simon?”
He stops and turns to look at you.
“Hm?”
“You don’t have to do it right now.”
“When do you want it done?” he asks, waiting for your next command.
“Wh-whenever you can,” you reply, uncertain how else to phrase it.
“I can do it now,” Simon declares and proceeds to the trash bin.
“Babe, we’re eating.” You say and point at the semi-eaten food on the kitchen table.
He looks at the food, then back at you. He shrugs.
“No,” you state, “Come sit down and finish your breakfast first.”
He nods as if Price just gave him the objectives for his next mission and jogs to the table to resume his breakfast.
He’s always like this. Last week, you found a cockroach running in the bathroom, and you screamed so loud that he almost kicked the door. When he asked you what you wanted him to do, your first instinct was a very loud and clear “KILL IT!” without thinking about your statement’s repercussions. He chased it around, murmuring stuff like “Target’s on the move” and other nonsense until he trapped the cockroach in a corner. He stepped on it once and twisted his foot. The cockroach was dead. Gone. Kaput. But he wanted to do it again, to “confirm the kill.” When you told him there was no need since the cockroach was already a pulp and left you all to a better place, he refused and ordered an “evac” of the bathroom to “do it properly.” And when you asked if “properly” meant an AK-47 and camo apparel, he thought about it long and hard before agreeing that further escalation would be unnecessary.
Be it his ingrained behaviour as a soldier to execute orders, deeply rooted within his system, or his fear not to let you down, he was finding it difficult to leave his work duties at the door. He always carried them inside—in the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. He acted like Ghost, not Simon. Everything was a matter of order to him, and there was no time for relaxation.
But it doesn’t have to be like this; you want him to know that. He doesn’t have to be so rigid at home. He can relax and take a step back from his institutionalised habits.
To prove your point, you decide to give him another instruction, this time more indirectly.
You glance at the sink; some pans are picking out from making breakfast this morning.
“Oh boy,” you moan, trying to pull off an act, “we have to clean the dishes at some point.”
He raises his head to look at the kitchen sink, then sides-eyes you.
“Any particular time you want that done?” He asks, ironically.
“I said ‘at some point’, Simon,” you snap, “there’s no urgency.”
“You also said we ‘have’ to do it,” he snaps back. “‘Have to’ has some sort of urgency in it, doesn’t it?”
You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You’re right, but it’s more of a general statement,” you reply. “We can do it whenever it’s convenient.”
Simon processes your words and nods.
You stare at him while he eats, and you feel a tug at your heart, urging you to address the underlying issue on your mind. You take a deep breath, searching for the right words to express your feelings without offending him. You reach out and touch his arm to grab his attention. He turns to face you.
“You’re so dedicated to what you do; it’s one of the things I love about you,” you begin, “but our home should be a place where we can both unwind and be ourselves without feeling like we’re constantly on a mission.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks.
You take a moment to collect your thoughts, wanting to explain them in a way that resonates with him.
“Well, when you jump to fulfil every request or task like it’s an order, it sometimes feels like we’re always on duty,” you explain gently. “I want us to create a more relaxed atmosphere here, where we can enjoy each other’s company and take things at a slower pace.”
He thinks about it for a while.
“Am I doing that?” He asks.
You slowly nod with a gentle smile.
“Affirmative,” he replies, “I’ll try to take it down a notch.”
“No ‘roger’, no ‘affirmative’, nothing like that is needed here,” you explain.
“Is ‘alright’ alright?” He asks.
“Yes,” you smile, “alright is alright.”
He finishes his breakfast and puts his dish in the sink.
“So,” he says, pointing one hand at the dirty dishes and the other at the bin. “Is there any particular order in which you want these two to be done?”
You smile. “No, babe; you take out the trash, and I’ll do the dishes.”
“Underst-alright, alright.” He corrects himself and walks to the garbage. He ties up the bag’s strings and picks up the bin. He spots you looking at him.
“Am I doing something wrong?” He hesitates.
“Why are you taking the entire bin with you?”
He keeps looking at you and places the bin on the floor.
“Just in case the bag’s ripped,” he explains, “I don’t want to spill garbage juice on the floor.”
“Oh.”
“Should I take the bag only?” He asks and begins to remove it from the bin.
“No… that’s pretty smart, actually.”
He raises his eyebrows and points a thumb at himself.
“Yes, Simon,” you nod and smile, “you’re pretty smart and considerate. I’ll carry out the same procedure while on trash bin duty.”
He puffs up his chest and picks up the bin with the bag in it.
“I’m dedicated, smart and considerate.” You hear him boast to himself as he walks towards the exit, ready to execute his mission.
———————————————————————
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#cod ghost#ghost cod#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost mw2#ghost cod mw2#simon ghost riley fic
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don’t know if this makes any sense but, genshin man as older boyfriends? like there is age gap between them and us (might be significant or not, choose yourself), like they are in “should get married and have kids” age, so how would behave and be with their younger significant other? if you want to add some smut-ish thoughts feel free to do so, thak you!
( <3 your work, feel free to ignore!)
I won't ignore! This one is so good. Cute.
Pairing: Dottore, Pantalone, Pierro, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Zhongli x Reader
Tags: fluff, slightl, suggestive, age-gap, power dynamics, kissing, tail shenanigans, protectiveness, planning to have kids, domestic fluff
A/N: Well some of them are definately way older already so, this might as well be canon.
Dottore tells you you're a fucking brat but a good assistant to him so he keeps you around. There's a lot of flirting going on when you're working, a lot of him pulling you against him. He tells you that you just need to say the word and the two of you can make some lab babies.
Pantalone doesn't always keep up with your energy, he's pretty calm compared to you. Not a bad thing in his mind, everyone tells him to loosen up more and he can do that with you. Around you he doesn't need to be stoic or serious all the time, he can kiss you whenever he wants and not feel like you'll make fun of him for it.
Pierro has thought of starting a family with you more then once. He wouldn't push you into it as long as you're not ready but he brings up the subject a few times in bed. A family with you would be wonderful, but at the same time there's much to do still, so he doesn't mind waiting a few more years.
Neuvillette is so much more experianced then you, but he will never hold that experience over your head. Would mention it in passing when he wants to try something that's new to you. He assures you that everything will be fine, his lips soft on yours but his tail firmly protective on around your hips.
Wriothesley would love to have kids with you, he really would and he's not hiding that fact. But because he started off as your boss he makes sure that it's what you want too, otherwise he'd feel like a pretty shitty husband. Your power dynamic is fun to explore when you're intimate, and never to make you do things you don't want to.
Zhongli keeps you close to him while he tells you the stories way back from he was younger. Don't feel bad about what everyone else is saying, he didn't find his mate, you, until now, he didn't want a family until now. Your life might be shorter but live it how you want to and he will stay by your side until your very last moment.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#dottore x reader#pantalone x reader#pierro x reader#neuvillette x reader#wriothesley x reader#zhongli x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin imagines#genshin impact headcanons#genshin headcanons#genshin impact fluff#genshin fluff#genshin impact x you#genshin x you#dottore fluff#pantalone fluff#pierro fluff#neuvillette fluff#wriothesley fluff#zhongli fluff#x reader
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