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peotego · 2 months

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Unconditionally | James' POV

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Black!reader

Summary: Unconditionally but from James' POV.

Warnings: some swear words, Sirius being an ass in the beginning, my English? (since it’s not my first language)

Words: 3,5k+

Masterlist

In James Potter’s life, there was only one girl.

The only girl he ever had eyes on.

Oh, how he loved to look at her smile or laugh with her friends. How he adored the way she would throw her head back when he told a really funny joke. How absolutely and utterly in love with her he was.

He sometimes looked at her as if she was the one who hung the stars and the moon herself. As if she was the ruler of an old kingdom and he was supposed to serve her night and day. She was the first person he thought about in the morning and the last one in his mind before going to sleep.

But she was also his best friend’s sister.

She was untouchable.

And James Potter was seriously fucked.

He remembered when he first thought about her in a non-friendly way. It was quite soon when she stopped being just a buddy he would hang out with and started being the girl.

It was shortly after the Christmas break in their first year. (Y/N) and Sirius were already on a train and he came in late. (Y/N) was wearing a black dress and that was the first time when James noticed she was actually a girl. Of course, the girls in Hogwarts were wearing skirts as the uniform required it but James never paid a mind to it. However on that very train at the beginning of January, he noticed that one of his mates was a beautiful girl.

He didn’t know what to do with those feelings so he tried talking to his best friend about it.

A bad idea, right? Since his best friend was also a brother of the girl he was developing feelings for.

”Sirius, we need to talk”

”What’s up, mate?” Sirius was lying on his bed mindlessly playing with some spells he read about. Remus was in the common room trying to read a book and Peter was nowhere to be found.

”I think I have a crush on this girl” confessed James. That caught Sirius’ attention as he smiled wickedly.

”Really? Who is she?”

”It’s (Y/N)”

”(Y/N)? As in my sister (Y/N)?”

”Well, yeah”

James looked at his best friend expectantly. He did expect a piece of advice on what to do with those feelings or how to act on them. What he did not expect was the outburst.

Sirius was angry, furious even.

”James, she is my sister, you can’t have a crush on her!” Sirius stood from the bed and looked at James in shock ”She is my sister!” He repeated ”She is off limits for you. If you ever try to pursue her, it will ruin our friendship! Imagine what would happen if things didn’t work out between you two. How am I supposed to pick sides? What would you expect me to do? Side with you? Because I couldn’t do that! She is my family and I would have to pick her over you! Do you really want to ruin our friendship like that? Does it really mean that little to you?”

”Sirius, calm down” James panicked ”It’s just a stupid crush, it will pass”

”It better do, James, because we’re gonna have a big problem”

For a few days, James avoided (Y/N) like a plague. He was only eleven years old and he really thought that by acting on his weird feelings he would completely ruin his friendship with Sirius. It didn't help that by saying "we're gonna have a big problem" James thought Sirius implied he would beat him up.

James would not only lose (Y/N) but also Sirius. So he tried to get over it.

*~*~*

But in their third year, he still had those feelings. He was still crushing on his best friend’s sister. And he was truly terrified.

He started to hate those butterflies that appeared whenever (Y/N) was in the same room, whenever she talked to him, laughed with him, or touched his shoulder.

It was so obvious that Sirius picked on it and started a very serious talk with his friends one night.

”Guys, gather up, we need to talk about something very important” Remus looked at James and raised his eyebrows as if James knew what it was all about. Potter only shrugged his shoulders. When all three boys gathered close to Sirius’ bed, Black started talking.

”You’re probably wondering what is this all about. So let me explain. Birds told me that one of you has unconventional feelings for my sister. Look, I get it. (Y/N) is amazing. She’s smart, funny, kind, and she’s got this incredible smile that can light up a room. Believe me, I know, I live with her. Guys, respect the boundaries. Falling in love with my sister can complicate our friendship and put my sister in a tough spot, and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable or pressured in any way. I want you all to know that I appreciate you guys. We’ve got each other’s backs, we’re like a family. I want to trust you and I want to know that you won’t hurt my sister. Let’s keep the love we have for (Y/N) as sisterly as possible and keep our romantic interests directed somewhere else.”

”What?” Asked Peter when Sirius ended his little TED talk ”Who has a crush on (Y/N)? Is it you Remus?”

”Doesn’t matter” said Sirius quickly ”Just promise me, all of you, that you will never ever fall in love with my sister”

James stared at his best friend in disbelief. He felt betrayed, slapped in the face. What was he supposed to do other than agree to Sirius’ madness?

”Well, I can promise you that,” Remus said as the first one of the group.

”Me too” added Peter.

Sirius looked expectantly at James as the other two of their friends also looked his way. So as not to look suspicious, James shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

”Yeah, sure, I have my eyes on a different girl, I think she’ll be the future Mrs Potter” James lied. It was so easy to do so that he was surprised himself.

”Oh, yeah? Who is she?” Sirius didn’t believe him at all, he still remembered the conversation they had in their first year, and he still remembered the way James looked at his sister with lovey-dovey eyes.

”It’s… Lily Evans!” James himself was surprised when he heard what he had said. Lily Evans was one of (Y/N)’s friends, they were inseparable, always sitting together, laughing together, or whispering about some secrets during dinner. It was an obvious choice. Simple.

”My, my, James” Sirius smirked ”Then we have to ensure you go on a date with Evans soon!”

From that day forward James Potter pursued Lily Evans, even though he never liked her as more than a friend. But he wanted Sirius to stop being suspicious of him.

So he declared his love for the redhead girl the next morning to the whole school.

*~*~*

As years went by James’ feelings for (Y/N) only grew stronger. Each encounter with Sirius’ sister became an exquisite torture, a stolen sip from a well of emotions. He observed her, like a creepy stalker.

In the deepest parts of him, James harbored an affection, silent and concealed, a love he knew was not his to claim. He was a prisoner of this affection, torn between loyalty to his best friend and the magnetic pull of his heart towards his best friend’s sister.

When during one party in their 6th year Marlene suggested a game of Spin the Bottle, James was excited. That was his way to steal a kiss from the girl of his dreams without Sirius growing suspicious of him. It was only a game after all, right?

But when Remus mentioned that he shared his first real kiss with (Y/N) Black, James saw green. He sulked in his seat sending daggers into his friend’s back. If looks could kill, Remus would be long dead by now. And when he got to be the first one to kiss her in the game, years later, James’ angry fist hit the floor a little too much which made Mary look at him with a smirk.

As the game progressed James became more desperate so without his friends knowing he enchanted the bottle when (Y/N) spun it so it would definitely land on him.

He watched as her eyes went wide with the realisation of who she was supposed to kiss and James was scared for a minute that she would choose to tell the truth and drink instead of kissing him. But she didn’t. And he couldn’t be happier.

Her demeanor quickly changed and she smirked wickedly while saying ”Two out of three. Better get ready Peter”

Sirius shouted something about this whole situation being disgusting but James paid no mind to him. He was definitely too drunk to care. Slowly he got up from the place where he sat on the floor and made his way to (Y/N). When he positioned himself before her, he looked deep into her eyes and, oh Merlin, how he loved those eyes. Those eyes held the power over him. He marveled at the way they sparkled like stars in a night sky. He loved the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, how he could read her like an open book only by one look.

James put his hand on (Y/N)’s cheek and leaned into her. When his lips crushed on hers James could swear he saw fireworks. And when she kissed him back with just as much force he could only smile into the kiss. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth while she grasped his shirt trying to bring him closer. Oh, sweet Merlin, James could only dream about a moment like that. When (Y/N) bit his lower lip he couldn’t help but moan.

James tried bringing her closer to him if that was even possible, but his drunk self had too much strength and they fell to the ground, (Y/N)’s body under his.

”That’s enough, Prongs, it’s my sister” Sirius’ strong arms pulled James from (Y/N). Potter couldn’t help himself and grimaced but luckily Sirius didn’t see anything because he helped his sister get up. The only person who saw his face was Lily as she smiled at him knowingly.

*~*~*

That same night when the girls went to their dorm, Sirius started a conversation.

”How is it, Prongs, that you’re supposedly in love with Evans but couldn’t get enough of my sister while kissing her, hm? I thought you two were gonna have sex right in front of us”

”Padfoot, please, stop it already. We talked about it in our third year”

”Yeah, I remember, but I can’t shake the feeling that you lied to me”

”Padfoot…”

”He’s not wrong, James,” said Peter getting ready for bed ”You two looked very… comfortable”

”Horny, Wormtail, the word you were looking for is horny” added Sirius. ”See? I’m not the only one seeing this!”

”You’re all delusional. I’m going to bed”

So the next day during breakfast James shouted how much he loved Lily Evans even though it wasn’t true. And Evans kinda looked disappointed.

*~*~*

When the summer break between their 6th and 7th year at Hogwarts came, Sirius and (Y/N) spent it at the Potters. And while James couldn’t be more happy about it he was also angry that his best friend tried to be everywhere with them. Sirius wouldn’t leave (Y/N) and James alone even for one minute.

So when Sirius felt sick, James tried to twist the situation to his advantage and asked (Y/N) if she wanted to stargaze with him.

”Jamie, your father wants me to marry you,” she said unexpectedly and James felt shivers run down his spine. He would kill Fleamont Potter for his big mouth later.

”What?!”

”Yeah, crazy, right? He thinks I’m your mystery girl”

Because you are and he knows it, thought James to himself.

”Oh, and what did you tell him?”

”That it’s definitely not me. That I know the girl you have a crush on and he said that we’ll see”

”I have no idea why he said that, I’m very sorry” After what she said James thought that she wasn’t interested in him in any way. He needed to protect his own heart. So he distanced himself.

”No big deal, Potter”

While James was sulking and drowning in his own unrequited feelings, (Y/N) suddenly spoke again.

”James”

”(Y/N)”

”I’ve been thinking about you and Lily for a while”

What?

”Oh?”

”Yeah. I think she doesn’t deserve you”

That’s interesting, thought James.

”How so?”

”You see, Jamie, you’ve been trying to get the girl since we were thirteen years old and she’s still not even slightly interested in going on a date with you. She’s always laughing at you, turning you down. I don’t think that’s very good for you. I get that you’re in love with her but maybe you should start thinking about yourself a little bit?”

A stupid, stupid heart that started to beat faster. A glimmer of hope appeared inside of James.

”What do you mean?”

”You deserve the world, James Potter. You deserve a girl who will be madly in love with you. You deserve a girl who will love you unconditionally. You are a good guy. Sure, you have your faults. We all have them. But you should be loved the way you love other people - wholeheartedly. I don’t think Lily is the right girl for you. I'm also not saying you should do whatever I’m telling you right now. I just believe you should think about it a little bit and decide if it’s even worth it. Because you, James Potter, are definitely worth it and it’s her loss if she cannot see that”

If James Potter was confused before, imagine him in that moment. (Y/N) Black made no sense to him. She said that he should look for a girl that would give him all the love he deserved but she didn’t see that she was the girl he already loved.

So James did what he always did when he was confused. He joked.

”Wow, Black, do you have a crush on me or something?”

”You’re also an idiot” She slapped his shoulder and just like that they got back to where they started - to being just friends, which James hated by the way. "I’m your friend, I just hate to see you struggling so much."

”You are a good mate, (Y/N) Thank you for always looking out for me”

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

He didn’t mean to say it.

But what are you supposed to say to the girl you love when you’re not sure if she harbors the same feelings for you?

He gently took her hand In his and interceded their fingers. How he longed for that to mean more.

”Always”

*~*~*

After that conversation, when their 7th year began, James Potter promised himself that he would do absolutely everything in his power to convince (Y/N) Black that they were meant to be. So he stopped pursuing Lily Evans and after a long talk with her, when she advised him to just stop listening to Sirius and finally get the girl of his dreams, he began thinking about his master plan.

James Potter did everything a boy romantically interested in a girl would do, at least that's what he thought. He always sat next to her in classes, and he partnered up with her which made Sirius angry, he sat with her in the library and just watched as she was doing her homework, he walked her to her classes even when they had different ones and it meant he would be late to his.

So when the time came in October, when the Marauders’ prank was planned to happen, James was excited. He was the one who told the Ravenclaw prefect to be in that specific corridor at that time, he even paid him to be there. So when he started to chase the group and Remus suggested scattering, James paid no mind to anybody else while he grabbed (Y/N)’s hand and dragged her to the broom closet nearby.

And in that broom closet, he was finally able to confess his feelings. When (Y/N) said she reciprocated his feeling he couldn’t help himself.

But then the realisation came and James was mortified.

If he thought that the conversation with Sirius Black wasn’t going to be a big problem, he must have been an idiot. He had the girl of his dreams but he was scared to death with the thought of losing his best friend. In all of his master plan, James Potter didn’t think beyond the moment of saying ”I love you” in the broom closet. He wouldn’t dare to dream about (Y/N) reciprocating his feelings.

So now he had a problem.

(Y/N) and James dated in secret for a month while James thought about how to break the news to his best friend. (Y/N) only laughed at his imaginary scenarios because she thought her brother wouldn’t have that big of a problem.

She was right, Sirius Black grew up since they were all thirteen years old.

But James Potter was still scared.

”Padfoot,” said James looking in the direction of his best friend. Sirius was lying on the bed just like he was six years ago when they first talked about it. Remus was reading a book nearby while Peter was looking franticly for his Transfiguration essay. ”I need to talk to you”

”What’s up, Prongs? You have an idea for our next prank? Because I think (Y/N) mentioned something about invading Slytherin common room and painting it red and gold and I would love to do that”

”No, but it does concern (Y/N)”

”I'm all ears ten”

”Remember when we first talked about me having a crush on your sister when we were eleven?”

”It was you?” Shouted Peter surprised ”I literally thought it was Remus who fancied (Y/N)”

”Shut up, Wormtail. James is going to say something important. I remember. Go on, mate” Sirius tried not to smile. He knew already. (Y/N) told him but he patiently waited for his best friend to finally confess.

”And remember when you came up with that stupid rule when we were thirteen?”

”Yeah”

”And remember when I said I fancy Lily Evans then?”

”I think we all remember”

”I lied”

”I know”

”I’m madly in love with your sister, Padfoot. And I’m sorry, I really tried to get over her so as not to ruin our friendship. Merlin, I tried so hard but it’s impossible. I believe she’s the love of my life, mate. I want to make her happy, I want to be the one she smiles at, I want to tell her all the jokes just to hear her laugh, I want to marry her one day. That’s why I’m sorry, Padfoot. Because you are my best friend and I didn’t listen to you, I went behind your back, and lied to you for a month. But I'm not sorry for loving your sister. I believe (Y/N) is the one”

There was silence between the four of them for a while.

James looked as if he was about to die, Peter looked at his best friend with wide eyes, Remus tried to cover up his laugh behind a book, and Sirius… Sirius was staring at his friend without showing any emotion.

”What time is it, Wormtail?” Asked the Black heir instead.

”Um, it’s almost midnight, why?”

”And what day is it?”

”November 29th?”

”Moony, my dear, pay up”

”What?” James was surprised. He expected screaming, maybe a hex or two directed at him. But Sirius was completely calm when he grabbed a few galleons from Remus.

”You see, Prongs, I already knew. You weren’t very subtle over the years. I suspected something but you always insisted you loved Evans so I waited, patiently may I add. And finally, you broke down. I expected you would do so in our 7th year somewhere close to the end of November, Moony said that’s impossible and opted for the end of our 7th year. Prongs, I just won a bet thanks to you.”

”You’re not mad?”

”Well, you see, I would be mad if we were children. But we grew up since that time, mate. I feel weird knowing that you’re snogging my sister but as long as you’re both happy, it’s fine with me. Just don’t hurt her cause then I would be obliged to hurt you too. You know, because I’m the older brother and so on”

”I don’t intend on hurting her, Padfoot. I want to marry her”

*~*~*

Just like James Potter said, he actually did marry (Y/N) Black two years later. And Sirius gave the most hilarious best man’s speech everyone has ever heard mentioning that he always knew these two would end up together (to which Remus screamed ”NOT TRUE” so loud that Peter fell from his chair).

A year later, they all attended Sirius and Remus' wedding.

And only a few days later (Y/N) found out she was pregnant. James couldn't have been happier, and Sirius shouted something about being the best godfather on the whole planet.

When they all decorated the nursery, James could only smile. With his best friends by his side, the love of his life sleeping soundly in their shared bedroom, and the baby soon to be born, he had everything he ever dreamed of.

And all was well.

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janaispunk · 8 months

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only bought this dress so you could take it off

series masterlist • this is part I

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: I was on my summer vacation last week, and I’m suffering from severe Dave York brainrot lately, which inspired a vivid daydream of Dave taking me on a little trip and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I was planning to keep it a oneshot, but there are so many more ideas for this floating around in my head, so a part 2 miiight be happening. Please read the warnings, this one’s nasty! (it’s the murder daddy energy)

word count: ~10.4k (this was supposed to be a nice little pwp, idk what happened) (Dave was holding me at gun-point)

summary: You have been sleeping with Dave York for a few months, keeping things casual, when he suggests to go on vacation together. You’re not sure what to expect, but you agree, and Dave takes very good care of you.

warnings: bits of angst, dubious morality (Dave is cheating on his wife), kinda unhealthy relationship dynamics, age-gap implied, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, rough sex, semi-public touching, sir kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on bc in my head, but it’s not mentioned in the fic), dirty talk, Dave is a menace, spanking, choking, edging, spit kink, restraints, idiots in love, let me know if I missed any!

this is explicit 18+ content, minors do not interact pleaseeeee

Your phone starts buzzing on your work desk around 8 AM. You just got into the office and are starring at your monitor blankly, nursing a to-go cup of too expensive coffee and questioning your life choices. A regular Tuesday really.

You groan and flick your eyes down to your phone, your mind way too exhausted to deal with whoever is trying to contact you right now. You read the name on the screen and do a double take, your tiredness immediately forgotten. You hastily grab the device and press the green button to accept the call.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound just as eager as you suddenly feel. He doesn’t need to know the effect a simple call from him has on you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. What took you so long to answer, huh?” his voice sounds in your ear, calm and composed as always, but with a hint of teasing. You bite your lip, thankful that he can’t see how just hearing him speak has a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“S-sorry, just work and everything, you know?”

You can’t help the little sigh that you let out -work really has been a nightmare lately- and he chuckles sympathetically.

“You poor thing. Speaking of work, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

He knows fully well that he doesn’t need to ask you favors - you’d give him everything he wants, without question. His usual demanding tone is lacing his words and you involuntary clench your thighs together. God, you’re down so bad for this man.

This, as you need to keep reminding yourself, married man, who lives the perfect suburban life with his wife and their two kids. He’s not in love with you, you’re well aware of that, and you’re trying your hardest not to fall in love with him either.

You don’t know what exactly is going on between him and his wife and you don’t pry. He’s told you that things between them aren’t working out anymore and that they’ve agreed to stay together and play happy family until their girls are older. You’re not dumb, you know that this is the kind of story that every cheating man tells the other woman. And you’d probably call him out on his bullshit, if he were any other man. Hell, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with any other married man in the first place.

But Dave isn’t just any man and he’s got you wrapped around his finger ever since you met in a hotel bar a few months ago. You had just been stood up at said bar and Dave had been on a business trip, spending the night there. He came up to you, looking more handsome than any man should have the right to, bought you a drink and had you following him up to his room in the blink of an eye, which led to sex that was easily the best you had ever had.

Now, Dave calls you regularly, mostly when he’s close enough to meet up, but also some nights when he whispers filthy things into your ear until you come on your own fingers because he is too far away to put his hands on you.

You like to think that he cares about you, that you’re not just the willing means to an end and that you can actually give him something that he can’t get anywhere else. Something soft, a person that cares for him and gives him the chance to be soft as well. Because they exist, those moments of softness, in between tangled sheets and laughs shared in the darkness of your room, his fingers mindlessly dancing over your body when he thinks you’re already asleep and his lips pressed against yours a little too urgently when he’s saying goodbye to you.

But most of the time, Dave doesn’t like to care. He also doesn’t like to be soft. He’s ruthless, his edges sharp like a knife and he likes coming at you hard. He doesn’t tell you exactly what he does for a living, but you suspect that it’s dangerous and violent. He needs an outlet, somewhere he can let his aggressions run free, someone he can control.

This, you can definitely give him. You let him take it out on you when things get too much, you give up all control to him, and you love it. And he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if that’s the only reason he’s keeping you around, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it.

So, when your phone lights up with his name, you answer, trying to conceal your desperation to hear his voice, the hold he has on you, even if you’re fighting a losing battle. And when he’s asking for a favor, you hum questioningly, even though you already know that your answer will be “yes”.

“Take the next week off, and pack a bag. I’m having a few free days, so we’re going away for a bit, I’m picking you up on Saturday.”

He’s basically giving you an order, not stopping to ask if you’ve already got plans, if this might be a bad time, anything. Do this, be there, stat. Because he knows that you will do as he says and you know it, too.

Excitement bubbles up in you, the prospect of spending a whole week with Dave, something of a vacation, from what it sounds like, is more than you had ever allowed yourself to even daydream about. This is not what your relationship is about, it’s not what you do. Except that… apparently it is?

“I- okay, yes. That- that sounds great, Dave.” Your delight at his proposal is clear in your voice. “Where are we going? What do I need to pack? Do I need to prepare anything?”

He chuckles again and you can picture him shaking his head.

“No doll, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just bring your passport and pack for warm weather. And, sweetheart?” His voice drops an octave and he’s basically purring in your ear. “The sluttier, the better.”

He hangs up without waiting for your answer. You’re left to spend the rest of your workday in a daze, your panties soaked and your head busy with already cataloguing your entire closet and which things you’ll pack.

The days pass you by in weird chunks of time. On one hand, you can’t wait for Saturday, while on the other hand, you feel terribly unprepared, causing anxiety to creep up on you several times throughout the week. Every vacation you’ve ever been on has been meticulously organized and planned out by yourself and the lack of knowledge that you’re dealing with right now is entirely foreign to you.

What if you need a certain vaccine for wherever you’re going and you don’t have it? What if the flight has an early check-in that you need to take care of? Has Dave booked a hotel? How are the reviews? What do you need to prepare for?

The nervous urge to be ready for every kind of situation that you can’t satisfy right now is threatening to drive you crazy and you need to remind yourself more than once that this is Dave that you’re dealing with. Not one of your ex-boyfriends that would’ve come up with some half-assed plan that lacked in several vital points and required you to take care of things yourself eventually.

Dave is even more thorough than you, he doesn’t leave anything up to chance and he doesn’t forget things. You’re still reeling from the mere fact that he’s planning to take you away for a whole week. You’ve never spent that much uninterrupted time together and you honestly hadn’t thought that he would want to. This is couple stuff. And you’re not a couple. You’re just someone he sleeps with occasionally. You need to remember at least that.

You have texted him a few times, trying to get more information about the trip, but he hasn’t budged. You only manage to find out that he’ll come pick you up Saturday morning and that you’ll be gone for a whole week. And that you should pack a lot of bikinis.

“You make sure you’ll look good for me, and I’ll take care of the rest,” his text read. Followed up by a stern, “Stop worrying.”

You try taking his words to heart and get prepared in the one way you can: Buying lots of skimpy dresses and bikinis. You vividly picture him taking them off of you and it works. You do stop worrying.

Saturday finally rolls around and you’re ready, suitcase fully packed and dressed in a skirt so short that it will probably have you freezing your ass off on the airplane, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

His taxi finally pulls up to your apartment building and he jumps out to meet you while the driver loads in your suitcase. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s on your face when Dave’s arms envelop you and your lips are on his before he even gets a greeting out. He chuckles as he kisses you softly, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, before he pulls away slightly to look at you. You’re breathless; the sight of him in his crisp shirt, the top two buttons undone to show off a sliver of his broad chest, his sharp jawline and those brown eyes trained firmly on you already enough to drive you a little crazy with need for him.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he murmurs against your lips, one hand still in your hair while the other one trails down to the hem of your skirt and skims the backside of your thighs before he gives your ass a rough squeeze. You nod quickly as a breath leaves you, not quite a moan but enough to clearly show him the effect his touch immediately has on you.

“Desperate little thing,” he grins and adds a playful slap to your backside before pecking your lips again and leading you towards the waiting car.

He slips in beside you, his hand immediately finding your thigh again and gently rubbing against the bare skin, creeping below your skirt’s hem again and again as you take off in the direction of the airport.

You’re falling into your familiar routine with him, the first effects of seeing him and the flare of your chemistry with each other calming down a little and allowing you to actually talk with him like a normal person, not a lovesick teenager. You’re filling each other in on the few weeks since you last saw each other, the little occurrences that you wanted to tell him about but didn’t have the opportunity to at the time. He’s not much of a texter and you understand that; he’s busy with his job and his family whose existence you still need to keep reminding yourself of.

His large hand doesn’t leave your thigh once throughout the drive, keeping a hold on you that feels especially possessive whenever his grip tightens. At the airport he grabs both of your suitcases and purposefully strides off, leaving you to walk beside him with nothing but your little purse. It’s not a grand gesture by any means, but still, no one has ever taken care of things for you like this and your want for him is bubbling inside of you.

He drops your baggage off at check-in and hands you your boarding pass. You can’t help the squeal that you let out when your eyes find the destination and you excitedly throw your arms around him.

“Are you serious? How did you know that I always wanted- But Dave, that’s SO much, I can’t have you pay for all this, I-“

He shushes you gently, though you can tell that he’s clearly pleased with how happy you are about where you’re going. He presses a kiss to the crown of your hand and rubs his hands over your shoulders.

“Of course you can. I wanted to do something nice for you, sweetheart, you’ve been so stressed out lately. And I-,” he trails off, looking almost a little bashful, “I wanted to spend my time off with you, without interruptions, you know.”

You think that he wants to add more, but he doesn’t, his expression slightly regretful like he accidentally said too much already. He barely verbalizes his feelings and you don’t push it.

“Thank you Dave, it’s- thank you. I really appreciate it.”

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly, trying to convey what you feel but can’t put into words. How you’re not even there yet and it’s already more than anyone has ever done for you. How ‘I wanted to spend my time off with you’ has butterflies erupting in your stomach, no matter how hard you try to suppress them. How it has you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might be more for him than just the girl that he’s fucking on the side because his marriage is shitty. How much you wish that you were.

But you don’t have time to ponder all this because he possessively wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you off towards security control, then to the gate where he gets you your favorite Starbucks without even asking for your order, and onto the plane, where he lets you have the window seat and his hand finds its way back onto your thigh.

You brought a book to read on the flight but you can’t make it through one page without losing your focus. Dave’s hand keeps climbing higher and higher, alternating between gripping your inner thigh tightly and drawing featherlight circles on the soft skin, and the heat that had been smoldering within you since you first laid eyes on him today is slowly but steadily becoming too much to bear.

Dave seems annoyingly unaffected, his face as composed as ever as he asks questions about your book, and you know that he notices the way you’re squirming in your seat, and how much he’s enjoying the fact that he’s the one to make you act like this.

You’re in the middle of a sentence when his fingers suddenly move all the way up your thigh and brush lightly against the fabric of your underwear. It’s a barely-there touch, but you’re so wound up that it’s enough to cause you to interrupt yourself with a loud gasp. He retracts his hand the tiniest bit, still hovering between your thighs, and tuts at you.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes that hasn’t been there moments before. You know this look and it takes everything in you to not clench your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. He raises an eyebrow, the condescension written clear on his face and his voice a low rumble, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want everyone on here to know how much of a slut you are for me, now would we? Huh?”

He pinches the soft flesh on your inner thigh roughly when you don’t answer fast enough and you bite your lip, suppressing the whine that is threatening to come out of you.

“N-no…” you whisper and Dave arches his eyebrow even higher, looking at you expectantly. You gulp.

“No, sir.”

A small smile plays around his lips and he places a kiss on your cheek. “Good girl,” he mutters and his hand creeps up again until he’s rubbing against your panties, which you know are absolutely soaked by now. Your hips chase his touch and he chuckles darkly as he withdraws his fingers, completely this time, until he’s holding them up to your face. You can tell that the fingertips are shiny with the arousal that leaked through the fabric and you feel yourself blushing.

“Lick it off,” he demands, and your eyes widen.

“H-here?” you dare to ask. His gaze hardens.

“You wanna talk back to me?” His voice is calm, but you can sense the tension that’s rolling off of him. You should be disgusted, both by his request and the way that he’s talking to you, but you’re not. This is how you want him, how you crave him.

You shake your head hastily, acutely aware that questioning him was probably enough to get you into serious trouble later on. The thought sends another wave of desperate arousal through you.

“Then lick. It. Off. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His tone is clipped, his face a hard mask, but your eyes flick down momentarily and the growing bulge in his pants tells you that he’s not as unaffected by the situation as he wants you to believe. You train your eyes back to his face and hold his gaze as you lean forward and obediently clean his fingers with tiny kitten licks. His jaw tenses as he finally draws his fingers back from your tongue and runs them across your cheek, smearing the traces of your spit there.

A small whine slips out of your throat as you feel fresh wetness flooding your panties and he grins before he kisses you again, murmuring a “Good girl” against your lips. He leans back into his seat, his hand finding an almost innocent position close to your knee.

“Why don’t you read a little more, sweetheart? We’ll be there soon.”

He flashes you a smile that could pass as genuine but you catch the glint in his eyes as he clocks your dazed expression and your slightly parted lips. You nod dumbly and pick the book back up, but not a single word that you read actively registers in your mind.

You try catching glances at Dave, until by the fourth time, he pinches your chin between his fingers and turns your head back forward. “I said, read,” he murmurs into your ear. You know he gets off on this stuff, giving you stupid little orders. And on the fact that you let him. That you get off on it, too.

Your arrival happens in a blur. Dave leads you off the plane and through the smallest airport you’ve ever been to. Your brain is still a bit muddled from the unsatisfied arousal he’s ignited in you and now you’re excitedly turning your head left and right, trying to get in as many impressions as you possibly can. You’re not paying close attention to what’s happening and you’re thankful for the way Dave is taking charge without question. You’re happy to link you fingers through his and let him lead you wherever you need to go.

He retrieves your luggage, walks you out of the airport and to a waiting car. You spend the drive staring out of the window, your eyes wide, taking in all the beauty around you. It’s like you’ve arrived in literal paradise. You tell Dave as much and he chuckles, lifting your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The unexpectedly sweet gesture has you blushing and a soft smile plays around his lips.

The hotel is, quite frankly, insane. If you had been worried about the amount of money that he’s spent on this trip before, it pales in comparison to how you’re feeling now. The building is nestled against the foot of a mountain, lush green trees surrounding the front and the road leading up to the entrance, while it opens up to a small, private bay where turquoise waves calmly roll up against the whitest sand you’ve ever seen.

There’s glass walls everywhere, giving you an almost 360° view as you step into the lobby. You know that you’re gaping and Dave actually laughs at your expression as he walks you up to the reception desk to check in. You’re not listening closely, too busy taking in your surroundings and convincing yourself that this is your real life and not some extremely realistic daydream that you’re having while sitting at your work desk.

Dave finishes up and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you to the elevators, stepping inside and pressing the top button. The doors slide closed and you can barely think about the fact that you’re apparently staying on the top floor before you’re being whirled around and end up with your front pressed against the elevator wall with Dave’s hands roughly shoving up your skirt until your ass is exposed to him.

Your surprised giggle morphs into a moan as his hand comes down hard to slap it, before gripping the flesh so roughly that it borders on painful. He presses his body up against yours and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as his other hand slides up to cup your breasts over your tank top.

“Dave- we can’t-,” you gasp just as the elevator comes to a halt and dings. He growls and flicks your skirt back down, but keeps you pressed against his side as the doors slide open again. Thankfully there’s no other people around on this floor to witness your surely utterly disheveled state.

The dark glint is back in his eyes as he drags you along to your room number. He stops in front of the door and turns you towards him, his eyes trained on your face as he stares you down. His voice is low, his tone calm and controlled, but somehow it’s more threatening than if he shouted at you.

“You think you get to tell me what we can and can’t do? You think that’s for you to decide?” His hand grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and you whimper.

“N-no sir, I’m sorry, I just thought-“ He slaps your cheek, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to shut you up. Enough to remind you of your place in this dynamic. Your eyes flicker around hastily, your mind acutely aware of the fact that you’re in a public setting and that someone could walk in on this at any time. His hold returns your face, forcing you to look at him again.

“You don’t think, sweetheart. I decide and you listen, isn’t that right? If I want you to show off that slutty little ass of yours for everyone to see, then that’s what you’ll do.”

You nod to your best ability with his hand still grasping your face, mumbling another, “I’m sorry, sir.” You can barely think, the heat between your thighs almost making your legs buckle at this point. His thumb moves to play with your bottom lip and a cruel smirk grows on his face.

“You will be, doll. This is the third time you’ve disrespected me today. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help the way you subconsciously bite your lip and you know that your desire is written all over your face, your pupils probably blown wide and your cheeks hot.

“Christ,” he chuckles and seals your lips with another kiss, “you’re a fucked up little thing.” You can only nod, prompting another laugh from him.

He steps up beside you and digs a keycard out of his pocket, holding it up against the door that responds with an affirmative beeping sound and a lock clicking. He pushes the handle down and swings the door open, holding it for you, a hand on the small of your back as you tentatively take a few steps inside.

The gasp you let out now isn’t fueled by your arousal, which is momentarily forgotten, but by your utter inability to believe what you’re seeing. You’re standing in a small hallway which opens up into a gigantic living room that’s probably bigger than your entire apartment and completely lined with glass walls, revealing a balcony and the shimmering sea several floors below you. You slowly walk to the adjoining bedroom that houses the easily biggest bed you’ve ever seen and a continuation of the glass walls. From what you can see, the en-suite bathroom features a lot of white marble.

You turn back to Dave, who has followed you silently and seems to expectantly take in your every reaction. “You’re crazy,” you tell him and he grins as you struggle for words. “This is- it’s so expensive, it’s- it’s too much, really. You’re crazy,” you repeat and he walks up to you to take your hands. His thumbs rub little circles over the skin and he smiles softly.

“As I said, I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it, sweetheart, you do.”

“But- but it’s-,” you trail off, mortified to realize that your bottom lip is trembling and your eyes are getting wet. You’re not going to cry in front of Dave, not because of a stupid hotel room. More like a fucking suite, your brain unhelpfully provides and your lip trembles harder. Dave quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, his eyes searching your face.

“But it’s what?” he implores, his features displaying a look of such genuine concern that you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen on him before. “Sweetheart, do you not like it?”

You shake your head, trying to think of some way to explain that doesn’t make you seem totally pathetic. “It’s-,” you draw a deep breath, “it’s just- this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, ever. I just can’t believe you would- for me…” You trail off, not sure how to explain that you can’t grasp why he would be willing to spend this amount of money on you. “What I mean to say is, it’s beautiful. Just- thank you. Really, thank you.”

You smile at him and the relief is incredibly evident on his face before he pulls you into a hug, his arms engulfing you, one hand stroking you head softly. For once, his hands don’t wander down your body, he just holds you tight and you allow yourself to think that you could get used to this.

You feel awkward after your little breakdown, but Dave doesn’t mention it again. He lets you traipse around the suite to explore and unpack and follows you when you step out onto the balcony where you inhale deeply, enjoying the salty air and the view down to the bay. You think that it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life and you flash a beaming smile at him.

“You like it?” he checks again and you nod eagerly. “Good,” he mumbles and steps up behind where you’re leaning against the railing, one of his arms finding its way around your middle and his head resting on your shoulder. “That’s good.”

You stay like that a little while, taking in the scenery in front of you in peaceful silence, listening to the sound of the waves that roll against the shore and watching as the sun is sinking lower, a soft golden light spreading out across the sky and reflecting in the water.

Eventually, one of his hands slowly starts gliding up your torso. He cups your breast and his fingers graze your quickly pebbling nipple. You moan quietly and instinctually push your hips back against his crotch and the growing hardness there, which causes him to chuckle as he bends down to run his lips over your neck, leaving small kisses and bites on the sensitive flesh.

You’ve been riled up and let back down so many times today that you feel a bit crazed at this point, the need for him between your legs downright painful as you grind your hips against him and another desperate moan escapes you. “Dave, please… I need you.” Your head falls back against his chest and his other arm loops around your middle, pressing you against him as he tuts softly.

“So needy that you’re forgetting all your manners, huh?”

He pinches your nipple, hard, before his hand sneaks higher and loosely wraps around your throat. The anticipation of what is -hopefully- finally about to happen has you feeling lightheaded. You don’t care that you’re outside, that anyone could look up and easily spot you on the balcony, you would let him fuck you right there, as long as he just finally fucks you at all. You haven’t given him an answer and the hold around you throat tightens. Not enough for any real pressure, but enough to remind you of the power he holds over you.

“Please, sir,” you whine and he chuckles again.

“Not yet, doll,” he whispers into your ear and his hand leaves your throat, then he turns you around until you’re face to face. You can see that he wants you too, it’s written on his features clear as day, and you can barely fathom his level of self-restraint right now. You open your mouth, ready to beg again, ready to beg for anything to relieve the throbbing pain between your thighs, but he shakes his head curtly and even in your lust-filled haze, you know better than to keep going and shut your mouth again.

He grins at your obedience and gives your lips a quick kiss. “Good girl. You’ll get everything you want soon enough, don’t worry. Just gotta be patient a little more, okay?” You nod, and dazedly let him take your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. “But first, we’re gonna have a nice dinner. Think you’re gonna need the energy, doll.” His grin turns downright feral and a small shudder runs through you. “Show me what pretty things you packed, yeah?”

You hum your agreement and turn to rummage through the closet, pick out a dress and fresh underwear and wander off into the bathroom. You half-expect him to stop you and make you change in front of him, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe seeing you naked would be even too much for his restraint right now.

You change into the dress; it’s one of the new ones that you bought only last week while daydreaming about how Dave would take it off of you. It’s a short silk dress, dark red and with an open back that basically only consists of a several straps that form a loose pattern over your skin, which is why you forego a bra and only pull on a black thong, a lacy, barely there scrap of fabric. You also redo your makeup, adding a lipstick in a shade that matches the dress and freshen up your hair, then step out into the bedroom again.

Dave is still wearing the black slacks that he wore all day, but seems to have changed into a new, creamy white dress shirt, while you were busy in the bathroom. The top three buttons are open, which is one more than usual, exposing more of his broad chest than you’re used to and you know that you’re wearing an expression of awe on your face. He’s so beautiful. He always is, he’s stupidly attractive, really, but it’s hitting you especially hard right now, in these new surroundings and with the prospect of having him all to yourself for one whole week.

He’s eyeing you as well, his gaze roaming hungrily over your body. You become acutely aware of just how short the dress is, how much of your naked skin is on display. You like your body, and you’re not ashamed of showing it off, but this place is fancy. You know you look good, but suddenly, you feel a bit awkward. “Is- is this okay? Because, I-,” you stammer a little, “I didn’t expect this kind of hotel and you said- you said you wanted slutty, so…” You trail off, biting you lip nervously.

Dave’s gaze softens. It’s giving you whiplash, how quickly he switches between the domineering, controlled, sexually charged persona that he’s displaying around you most of the time, and this sweeter, caring side. The side that wants to do something nice for you. He takes a step towards you.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

You do, giving him a little twirl before turning back around and meeting his gaze. He looks… you don’t know how to describe it. The hunger for you that you’re familiar with is there, but it’s also something else, something… more. “You look perfect,” he assures you and you can’t help but believe him. Then he continues, “take off your underwear.” You blink at him and he cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want any panty lines when you’re looking so gorgeous with that pretty dress.”

You know fully well that the tiny thong that you’re wearing isn’t leaving any panty lines, but you also know better than to argue. The thought of having nothing to protect your modesty under the very short hem of your dress makes you feel exposed, a little uneasy, which is probably exactly what he wants. Always testing your limits, always looking to see how far he can push you, how far you’d go to please him.

You slide your thong off and make to toss it in the direction of your suitcase, but he clicks his tongue and holds his hand out towards you. You put it into his waiting hand and he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants. You suppose that he’s planning something and that you’ll get to know about it when he wants you to, which isn’t now, so you keep your mouth shut and step closer to him. “Dinner?” you ask softly and lean on your tiptoes to kiss him. He returns the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth swiftly, giving you a taste of how much he wants you, before he pulls back and grabs your hand instead, leading you out of the suite and back to the elevator.

It’s just the two of you when you get on, but two floors down, you’re being joined by an elderly couple who you greet politely. As soon as their backs are turned to you, Dave’s hand is under your dress, running a finger through your slick folds. You manage to swallow your surprised gasp, but flinch slightly, and you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye. He slides his finger up and down your slit, brushing your already oversensitive clit a few times, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep the sounds inside that threaten to spill out of you.

When the elevator finally stops, he withdraws his hand and waits until the couple is a few steps away from you, until he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Good girl, learned your lesson I see. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, your legs a bit wobbly and your arousal already leaking out of you.

“That’s right.” He pats your ass in a sort of condescending appreciation and you follow him into the dining area.

The hotel’s restaurant is located on the first floor, a beautiful, light-filled space that opens onto a big terrace which seems to float over the ocean and gives you a gorgeous view of the sunset’s colors that have become even more intense since you left your room. You’re being led to a small table for two and you gape at the view, causing Dave to laugh at you again, but it’s a warm laugh, that feels like he’s genuinely happy about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

You try reading through the menu, but you know maybe half of the things that are on there, much less how anything tastes or what you would prefer. You shoot Dave a sort of helpless look and he grins. “Want me to order for you?” he asks and you nod gratefully, trying not to feel embarrassed about how out of your depth you are. He orders something, along with a bottle of red wine, which you very much appreciate. You don’t know much about wine, but this one tastes really good. It turns out that he ordered some kind of fish for you, that you still have no idea how to pronounce right, but now you know that it’s freaking delicious. You tell Dave as much and he gives you another smile that seems much too soft and overwhelmingly right at the same time.

Dinner with him is much easier than you had anticipated. Apart from your excitement about the whole trip, you had been a little nervous about spending an entire week with him, having to make much more conversation than you usually do. It’s not that you never talk, but sooner or later, you end up naked with him whispering filth into your ear. You don’t go out on hour long dates, maybe a drink at a bar, but no big dinners and extensive talks. Until now.

Now you know that he’s a great listener, making you feel heard and understood, never once giving you the impression that you’re boring him. You also learn more about him, about his past, though he stays vague about his current job and the situation with his family. But it’s nice, being with him like this. Another thing that you could get used to, but that’s also another thought to shove into some far away corner of your mind. Be thankful for what it is, don’t become greedy for more, you tell yourself.

After two glasses of wine and a dessert that you could have died for, watching the sun set over the ocean until the night sky took over, you’re buzzing with happiness, but also excitement for the next part of the evening. The whole dinner was better than you could have imagined, but you have also been turned on for hours, with the man that you want right in front of you. When Dave finally stands up and pulls your chair out for you, you all but jump up and flit to his side. He chuckles and looks at your eager face. “Don’t get too excited, sweetheart. Tonight isn’t gonna be all that fun for you.”

The dark glint in his eyes is back and you’re subconsciously clenching your thighs together. The simple thought of what he might do to you is enough to push the arousal that has been simmering inside of you to the forefront of your mind again. You’re amazed how quickly he can sink back into that domineering character that could make you do almost anything with a simple snap of his fingers. He wasn’t like that at dinner, he didn’t once give you the impression that you’re below him or that he doesn’t respect you, separating this sexual dynamic that you’ve established from other parts of your interactions with clean precision.

He leads you out of the restaurant, his fingers grazing the bare skin on your back and you’re once again reminded that you’re completely bare beneath the skimpy dress that you’re wearing. His hand dips lower, playing with the hem that feels like it’s barely covering your ass. Goosebumps are forming on you lower back and your thighs and he chuckles darkly.

He keeps playing with your dress during the elevator ride, his fingers sliding underneath and grazing your ass repeatedly, until you’re fully riled up again. You’re a little nervous now. He promised to be rough several times today and you don’t doubt that he will. You’re excited as well, you want him rough, crave his control over you, but still…

He takes out the key card and opens the door as you follow him quietly, waiting for instructions. You can feel the tension rolling off of him. As soon as the door clicks shut, he’s on you, crowding you back against it, his hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them up above your head while he leans down to capture your waiting lips.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongues as he devours your mouth, towering over you and keeping your wrists fixed to the door while his whole body is pressing into yours. You arch into him, helplessly trying to get him closer as you moan into his mouth when he bites at your lower lip, keeping it in between his teeth as he pulls back a little before letting it go. You whine, the quick stab of pain transforming into pleasure and traveling straight to your pussy, which causes you to spread your legs wider and grind your hips against him.

He gathers both your wrists in his large hand, still pressing them against the wall above your head, and lets his other hand roam over your body, grabbing at your waist, bunching up the dress there. “Looked so good tonight, all dolled up in your pretty dress…” he murmurs with his lips now dragging against the soft skin of your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking at the skin, “and all this just for me, sweetheart?” He bites down right below your ear and your hips buck against him.

“Yes, yes sir, fuck…”

Your breath catches in your throat when he abruptly pulls the neckline down to expose your breasts and scratches his fingernails over your nipples. He pinches one hardened bud between his nails and pulls slightly before he lets go and watches how the flesh bounces back, then he repeats the motion on the other side. You’re gasping, tears are welling up in your eyes, it hurts, but it hurts so good, your pussy is completely soaked and you just want him to finally, finally fill you up.

Then he steps back, his jaw flickers as he watches you, still pressed against the door, panting softly and with a dazed expression on your face.

“Get on your knees.”

You get down immediately, hoping against hope that maybe he’ll let you come sooner when you’re being good now. He allows himself a cold smile at your eagerness and steps closer until you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He opens his belt and slacks in sure, controlled movements, the only evidence of his own need for you being the massive bulge that’s right in front of your face. He doesn’t waste time, shoving his pants and underwear down in one move and letting his cock spring free.

You gasp quietly, your mouth opening on its own accord at the sight of his massive length and you look up at him hungrily. “Open wide,” he tells you softly, almost gently and you obey, sticking your tongue out and watching mesmerized as he lets his tip rest on your tongue for a few moments. He pulls back slightly, smearing a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum across your cheeks, then slapping you with his cock, which causes you to moan. “Filthy little thing,” he murmurs and sinks into your wet mouth in one hard thrust.

You gag almost immediately, your throat contracting around him and he groans as he grabs your head and holds you still. Tears well up in your eyes and you already feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He finally lets go and you desperately suck in a lungful of air before he starts thrusting into your mouth again, hitting the back of your throat every time and causing you to choke around him. The way he pushes you around, uses you for his own pleasure has a new rush of wetness flooding your pussy and you’re itching to touch your clit, just a little bit.

He notices how you’re squirming beneath him, how one of your hands is inching closer between your legs and he stops his thrusts, his cock still taking up most of your mouth, and looks down at your face.

“You wanna touch yourself? You like having your face fucked like a whore?”

You nod as best as you can and hum desperately, gazing up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. He furrows his brow, looking down at you with that wicked glint in his eye. “You know how to ask properly, I didn’t hear you sweetheart,” he tells you, sinking even deeper into your throat and you fight to suppress another gag. You hum again and look at him pleadingly; he’s well aware that you can’t ask him anything with his cock filling your throat like this. “Guess you don’t want to, then,” he shrugs, “hands behind your back. You’re not touching that pussy without my permission.” You whine, your clit throbbing painfully for attention, but you obediently cross your wrists at the small of your back.

“Poor thing,” he coos and pats your head in mock-sympathy, then moves his hand back to hold you in place as he pounds into your throat with renewed force. You gag around him, tears flowing all over your face and drool streaming down your chin and onto your tits. He sinks into you again and again, holding you up by your head and making you sputter around him, desperate to somehow draw air into your lungs. “Take it,” he growls, “take it like the little slut you are, down on the floor for me. That’s how you like it, don’t you?” He finally pulls out of you and slaps your cheek when you don’t respond immediately. “Don’t you?!”

“Y-yes sir,” you rasp, gasping for breath, tears and spit still all over your face.

He crouches down cups the cheek that he just slapped, his thumb rubbing at the tear-stained skin under your eye. You’re positive that you look a mess, mascara running down your cheeks and your dark lipstick smeared all around your mouth, mixing with your spit. Your hands are still behind your back, the arch in your body making you push your chest out and putting your tits on full display for him. He starts toying with your nipples again and you want to cry. An orgasm feels so close, yet so far away. You feel like you could come with just a few strokes on your clit, but you have no idea how much longer he will string you along until he finally deems it enough.

“You’ve been such a good girl, sweetheart. So patient all day, I bet you’re dripping all down those pretty legs right now, aren’t you? So desperate and ready for me, yeah?” His voice is a low growl in front of you and you whine your agreement. It’s not enough for him. “Say it. Tell me how desperate my little slut is to finally get fucked.”

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the ground in front of you. “I-,” you gasp as he roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, waiting for you to do as he said. “I need you to fuck me, so badly. I’ll be so good, I promise, just p-please, sir,” you whine, feeling pathetic, your voice trembling and your face burning. No matter how many depraved things he gets you to do with him, for him, talking like this still gets you embarrassed. Which is precisely why he makes you do it.

“And what are you?”

You feel your face heating up. “Your s-slut, sir.”

He grins as he adds another slap against your cheek. “Damn right you are.”

He straightens back up, tugs himself back into his pants and looks down at you. “Bedroom.” You scramble to get up, but he shakes his head and lands a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down again. “No, no. You’re gonna crawl.” You sink back on your hands and knees, the amount of embarrassment and arousal that you’re feeling making you dizzy, and you look up at him shyly.

He nods approvingly and bends down to tug your dress up higher until your bare ass and pussy are on full display. “Good girl, right where you belong. Off you go, come on.” You bite your lip and start crawling towards the bedroom, his footsteps right behind you and you can feel his eyes drinking you in as another groan grumbles in his chest.

You stop in front of the bed and give him a questioning look. He gestures for you to stand up and you get back to your feet with trembling knees. He steps closer, his hands ghosting over your shoulders and toying with the straps of your dress.

“Such a pretty dress,” he murmurs as he slides them off your shoulders, the garment slipping down your body, leaving you bare except for the heels that you’ve been wearing all evening. You’re painfully aware of the power dynamic between you, how you’re completely naked and at his mercy while he’s still fully dressed. His hands roam over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake and come to rest at your hips. He squeezes the flesh there, then turns you around until you’re facing the bed.

One hand reaches up to your neck and he bends you over until your upper body is resting on the mattress, your back arching and your ass up in the air for him. He takes a step back and lands a slap on your backside without warning. You yelp, your body instinctively lurching forward and your legs shaking with the strain of keeping your balance in your heels. He notices, of course, and says, “You better keep those pretty legs steady, doll,” before reaching forward and massaging your stinging flesh. You hum, trying to get your muscles to cooperate, but your legs won’t stop trembling.

Dave’s touch leaves your body and he sits down on the bed beside your head, his eyes searching your face. “What’s your color, sweetheart?” he inquires, softly stroking your cheek.

“Green,” you answer without hesitation. It has already been a lot and you’re sure that he’s nowhere near finished with you, but you like it like this. You crave it. He nods, his touch still gentle on your face.

“And what do you say when you need me to stop?”

“Red,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, before he stands up again and disappears from your field of view.

“So,” his voice drawls from behind you, “I think I’ll give you twenty-five tonight, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” You gulp, but know that there’s only one acceptable answer.

“S-sounds good, sir. Thank you,” you breathe, the apprehension clear in your voice, and he laughs quietly.

“And what did you do to deserve this?”

You bite your lip again, struggling to think through the fog of arousal clearly enough to give him an answer that he’ll be satisfied with. “I d-didn’t listen and talked- talked back at you, and…” you trail off when his hand dips between your legs, swirling through the wetness there before retreating again. You inhale sharply and continue, “…and that was disrespectful. I’m sorry, sir, it won’t- it won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dave mumbles and his fingertips ghost over your lower back. “But that was a nice little speech, sweetheart. Starting now, you’re gonna count them out for me, yeah? Lose count and we’ll start over.” You nod and your hands grip the sheets as you try bracing yourself.

The first slap meets your flesh, not as hard as you know he can go, but hard enough to get a small scream out of you. “One,” you force yourself to say and he hums appreciatively, before landing the second slap exactly on the same spot as the first one. “T-two,” you whine, his handprint searing on your skin.

You make it until eleven before your legs give out, your trembling muscles collapsing under the task of keeping you upright in your heels while your body is scrambling to get away from the oncoming assault on your ass cheeks. You fall forward, your knees hitting the mattress right after Dave’s hand connected with your backside again. “Twelve, I’m sorry, sir,” you choke out.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, stepping closer and running his hands soothingly over your back as he searches your face, a look of soft concern on his face. “What’s your color, doll?”

“Green. Still- still green, sir,” you breathe out and you mean it. You feel like you’re on fire, but in the best way.

“Yeah?” he questions, “want me to continue?” and you nod your head eagerly. The concern washes away from his face, his jaw tensing and his eyes growing cold again. “Fucking masochistic little slut,” he growls and you moan, your walls desperately clenching around nothing.

He lets you stay with your knees on the bed, your ass still up high for him, until you’ve finally reached “twenty-five, t-thank you, sir.” You’re sobbing at this point, your skin feels raw where he hit you, but you’re also damn near delirious with want for him.

Dave strokes your skin gently, telling you what a good girl you’ve been and how proud he is of you, and you bask in his praise. Then his hand travels lower, slipping between your thighs until his fingers are running through your folds, feeling how soaked exactly his rough treatment has left you. “Fuck doll, you’re dripping. You really liked that, huh?” he murmurs as he pushes two of his thick fingers into you, sliding in easily and making you moan loudly.

He thrusts into your tight heat roughly, causing you to arch your back and spread your legs wider, your release so close that you can almost taste it. He keeps going until he feels you growing tighter, starting to clench around his fingers, and slides them out of you abruptly. You sob, feeling your orgasm subside again.

“I think you were about to come without permission, sweetheart. You just promised me you’d be good, didn’t you? Guess your greedy little cunt just can’t help herself, huh?”

You whimper an apology and receive another slap to your abused skin, causing you to jerk forward. “No doll, you stay right here. Give me your hands,” Dave’s stern voice orders from behind you. You let him take hold of your wrists, leaving you completely at his mercy in the position that you’re in, and he digs your panties out of his pants pocket, looping them around your wrists until they’re tightly secured.

When he’s satisfied with his work, you finally hear the rustling of him taking off his clothes. Without warning, you feel him swipe the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing you with the tip, grazing your clit and causing you to gasp, then sliding back until he’s prodding at your entrance. You whine loudly and try pushing your hips backwards, but his hold tightens around you, keeping you in position.

“Not so fast. Be a good girl and beg for it,” he requests, in a voice that still sounds so controlled, while you feel like you’re barely able to form words anymore. You’re not embarrassed anymore, the promise of his cock so close to where you want him wiping all inhibitions from your mind.

“Please sir, I need you so badly, please fuck me, I’ll do anything, just please…”

You feel pathetic begging like this, but you couldn’t care less. Dave lets out a strained groan behind you, and then he’s pushing into you in one strong thrust. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him or how wet you are, his size always stings at the first intrusion and you wail, your body being pushed forward by his movement and he grips your bound wrists, holding you steady as he starts pounding into you.

“So fucking tight and wet you little slut, fuck you take me so good, being such a good girl, fuck…” Now his voice sounds wrecked behind you and you moan loudly at his words and at the way he’s splitting you open. This is what you had been craving for hours, the feeling of him thrusting into you again and again, and you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, to get him even deeper.

One of his hands grips your hair and pulls, forcing you to arch your back even more and slightly shifting the angle where he’s pounding into you, hitting something so delicious inside of you that you almost come on the spot, your walls already fluttering around him, but you’re not allowed, your scrambled brain reminds you, you need…

“Please sir, I’m gonna come, can I please…” Your voice breaks off into a sob when his movements slow down and he pulls out of you, pushing you forward until you’re laying flat on the bed, and he starts working on releasing your bound wrists.

“Good girl, asking for permission,” he praises, “but you’re gonna look me in the face when I make you come tonight.”

He frees your wrists and turns you around so that you’re on your back, looking up at him through teary eyes, desperate for your release. “Poor thing,” he coos as he gets between your legs, placing his large hands on your thighs and spreading them wide. His cock nudges at your entrance but he doesn’t sink back into you, his gaze trained on your face and his hand wandering up to play with your bottom lip.

“Open wide,” he tells you and you obey, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out. His breath has turned heavy by now and he hovers over you, hungry eyes roaming over your face, your open mouth and your wet eyes. He draws back the tiniest bit, then he spits into your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue and you whine, the filth of the whole situation making your pussy clench once more.

“Keep it open, show me.”

You hold still, your mouth wide open, feeling his spit mixing with yours as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. “Now swallow,” he finally says and you do, showing him your empty mouth afterwards and he grins. “Fuck, you’re such an obedient slut, being such a good girl for me. You’d do anything right now, wouldn’t you? Fucked all the thoughts out of that pretty little head, yeah?”

“Yes, anything,” you whimper, and he sinks his cock back into you without preamble. Your eyes widen at the sensation of being full again and the new angle, moans of his name falling from your mouth and you wrap your legs around him, grasping at his wide shoulders to hold onto something as he starts pounding into you again with raw strength.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing until you feel light-headed, intensifying the feeling of his deep thrusts into you. Pleading whispers leave your lips, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore, if you want more, if you want him to stop.

His movements speed up even more, hitting spots inside of you that have you moaning and squirming underneath him and the hand on your throat travels down to your breasts, toying with your nipples, pinching and pulling and sending delicious waves of pain through you.

You’re so close again, when his hand slides down to rub at your clit, making you scream and throw your head back, your eyes pinched close. He grabs at your face and forces you to look at him.

“Oh no, you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I make you come, are you gonna come sweetheart?”, he growls. You whine and nod desperately, your eyes shining with tears. “Go ahead then, come for me, squeeze my cock like the good little whore you are.”

He swirls his thumb over your neglected clit once more, gives you a particularly hard thrust and your vision swims, your whole body tensing up before you bear down on him and fall apart. You’re clenching rhythmically around his cock as the orgasm tears through your body in pulsing waves and you’re pulling him over the edge with you as he climaxes with a deep moan, spilling his release inside of you.

You’re a trembling mess, your breath stuttering and your mind still caught up in a blissful haze, and you’re only vaguely aware of him collapsing beside you, but you register the tender kiss that he presses to your cheek before he gets up and retreats to the bathroom.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping as he sits down beside you again and you slowly blink your eyes open. Maybe it’s the post-orgasmic bliss that you’re still lost in, but you think to yourself that he looks especially beautiful right now, his face relaxed with a small smile playing around his mouth, where the stubble of his beard is showing through at the end of the day, and with his brown eyes warm again now as he looks at you.

“May I?” he asks and holds up a damp towel. You nod, returning his smile and watching as he brings the towel down between your legs, cleaning you up and soothing your hot skin. He gently turns you over and spreads some kind of healing balm over your burning cheeks, careful not to touch you too roughly. He also cleans your face, his soft touches almost enough to lull you to sleep.

When he’s finished, he maneuvers you around, causing you to giggle, until you’re in the middle of the bed and he can pull the covers over you, sliding in beside you and wrapping his arm around your middle. You shuffle closer until you’re securely tugged into his side, your breath fanning against his broad chest.

“You good?” he asks, looking down at you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah,” you smile up at him and stretch to reach his mouth with your lips. He kisses you back, his hand coming up to play with your hair, and you smile even wider. As much as he likes to be rough with you, you think that what he actually needs, is the softness.

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#dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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dulcewrites · 1 year

Text

Unnerved

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol), implied aegon targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: Being at court is a game, and your favorite opponent is a certain long haired Prince.

A/N: I sort of adapted this from my fool me once series. I got an idea of the reader being slightly more ambitious. But then realized that would change the story so this kind of a new one lmao. Some elements are from like Aemond being married (this time to Floris Baratheon) and possibly cheating 👀. But anyway just wanted to explore Aemond and reader being haters but also having crazy sexual tension. *insert something smart about Aemond hating someone that is a mirror of him*

The heavy fabric of your dress seems to drag more than usual.

The extra care given to your appearance hopefully will not go unnoticed. The gown is your most expensive. A deep blue Lyseni cut dress with beaded bodice, and silk sleeves that slip open and ripple like water.

Walking the halls of the Red Keep is at night is not something you frequent. Working up the courage was always something that made you falter. But the result would make it worth it.

You bite back a smile when you see Ser Arryk not near his post. For a moment you consider knocking, worried that Aegon may be in the room with someone. The thought never bothered you till recently. A surge of confidence overtakes when you just open the door instead.

The fireplace in his is uncharacteristically blazing at this point. You stop in your tracks when you notice long legs extending from chair near the fire. Long silvery blonde hair catches your eye, and your heart sinks. Before you can turn around to make a beeline towards the door, an eye flick towards you.

“My Prince,” you bow your head softly. “You are back from the trip.”

You try to keep you voice bright, and unassuming but you are sure disappointment colors your tone. Aemond gives you sly smile.

“Come to look in on my brother, I assume,” condescension laced through his voice. He gestures to the book in your hand. There were days Aegon did enjoy hearing you read, but most of the time the conversation dissolved into other things. He would start at the seats in his room, you at his desk… till the you ended up on his bed. Faces close, and whispers soft.

“Yes, Prince Aegon always enjoys hearing about the histories.”

Aemond’s polite disposition drops, and he lets out a short laugh. “Right, I am sure he enjoys hearing about the histories from you.”

You feel yourself falter. An unnerved and unprepared feeling burst in your stomach.

But a lady is never those things. Not ever. Your mother’s voice rings in your head. A true lady never worries. The best of them can turn negatives into a positive.

You put on the sweetest smile you can and nod.

“This week we read about all about Maegor the Cruel.”

Something flashes behind his eye that you can’t quite put your finger on. He hums softly, giving you a once over. Inspecting your dress, your hair, your face. The hair jewelry holding back your hair starts to feel like it is digging into your scalp. Not feeling comfortable standing and letting him dissect you, your feet lead you to sitting in the chair opposite him.

“I do hope Prince Aegon is well.”

“What you mean to ask is where is he,” Aemond corrects. “He was not here when I arrived. He may be out on a late-night joyride with Sunfyre. Perhaps wandering the Street of Silk for another type of joy.”

You say nothing, laying the book flat on your lap. It should not shock you. Aegon is not getting that from you. You know Aemond does not believe that by the false innocuous way he mentions his brother’s indecisions. Every bit of attention Aegon puts elsewhere is a win for him. He decides to twist the knife more.

“I bet the discussions you two have are ravishing,” Aemond replies sarcastically, leaning back further in his chair. It only makes you more aware of your posture. More of mother’s words - Back straight, chest out, and head up my dear girl. “Aegon has always been known for his ability to hold a riveting conversation.”

“I think you underestimate your brother. He retains information quite well, and loves to debate,” your hands trace delicately over the large book.

Aemond’s eye doesn’t leave yours. The enjoyment wiped from his face. He just stares soberly.

“You know the sad part is that I genuinely think you believe that. You think you will be able to carry on like this. Pretending this all for companionship and light reading.”

Your eyes drift to the fire. A part of you wonders what it would be like to just stick your hand in it. Would there be excruciating pain or would the numbness that you force into you mind spread through your body? The old wives’ tales Aegon tells of Targaryens being fireproof pop into your head. Maybe that is where Aemond’s gall comes from; the inability to burn the way others would. You wish you could test the theory. What a sight it would be to see him engulfed in flames.

Aemond lip curls a bit. “But at least you can pretend with the best of them. First born sons deserve the best, even the best whores.”

The harsh words are strangely tinged with pity.

“Tis a shame, the way court changes a girl.”

Your eyes snap back to him. “I am not a girl, my Prince. The same way you are not a boy.”

The two of you are the same age. The superiority in his voice is not needed nor appreciated. You must bite your tongue not the bring up the stories of youth Aegon has told you about. His life has been court fodder many times over. It would be too easy to bring up the strife a young Aemond had to go through. Too unladylike to bring up the little boy you know is still tucked under the bravado.

He would revel in taking you out of yourself.

“You could get out of it, before it is too late,” he pushes the subject more. “Marry some lord and be swept away from here.”

The possibility sounds nice. Away from court, away from your family. Maybe a different version of you would agree with Aemond. Acknowledge that being at court, that striving for more has stolen something from you. A life of simple monotony away from the Red Keep sounds lovely. But you are not a different you. You were made and pushed into the world in your parent’s image. Simple is not enough, monotony is not enough.

“I appreciate the advice,” you smile calmly. “But I would miss everyone too much to do that just yet. I would miss Prince Aegon, along with Princess and the children. As well as you and sweet Floris.”

Aemond stands abruptly at the mention of his sister and wife. The light from the fire reflects on the side of his face. He looks like something out of a fairy tale. You are sure he wants to look intimidating but looks more ethereal if anything. He shares that trait with his siblings.

He goes to leave without another, but a sudden urge washes over you.

“Wait, my Prince,” you set the book in the chair and go to where he is near the door.

You wet your thumb slightly, watching his eye linger on your mouth.

“You have a little rogue there.”

Your thumb traces over the vein on his neck, and you feel him stiffen under your light touch. You flinch a little when his hand grabs your wrist firmly. For a moment, you don’t trust your instinct fearing your boldness has taken you to a point you cannot tip toe back from. You become acutely aware of blade resting snugly against his hip. He could slit your throat easily. But you have seen him training; he would go for a more gruesome approach if given the chance. Slow and painful.

Instead, he gently placed your hand at your side. His hand making a route from your wrist to the delicate tips of your fingertips. There is a coldness left when he lets go.

He leaves without another word.

“I will tell Prince Aegon you stopped by,” you lie as you call after him.

Aegon does eventually show up. Riding gloves on, and cheeks splotched, pink from the cold. He goes on and on about something Sunfyre did. You sit, pleasant and accommodating, the way men like him want. Hanging of every word as if you would die not hearing the next one spill from his lips.

Despite the dragon drivel, your mind does not drift often, liking the easiness that comes with speaking with an agreeable Aegon. But when it does, it only fixates on one thing.

First sons deserve the best… even the best whores

“She is not pregnant, Your Grace.”

The maester seemed nervous to tell the Queen. Aemond bites back a breath of relief when the words come out, eye fighting to go back to outside the window next to the wall where he leans. Floris’ face scutches into a frown.

Alicent chews on her cheek in clear aggravation, a tell Aemond can pick up from years of noticing his mother’s ticks. But like any good diplomat, she quickly replaces the disappointment with smile towards Floris.

“Well, it can take time,” she tries to give a good-natured shrug. “No reason to worry.”

Alicent had gotten good at giving her kids the same empty placating statements sprouted to her by her own father. Everything is going how it should. No need to worry. You will be fine.

They do not believe her the way she does not believe Otto. She can at least say she knows her children well enough to see they do not believe it. Alicent is sure her father still deludes himself into thinking his halfhearted attempts at warmness work.

Even the smartest man in the Seven Kingdoms can be mind-numbingly daft at times.

The maester and Alicent jump into words of encouragement and ideas to help a seemingly upset Floris. Aemond assumes he should join in, comfort his wife but his legs don’t catch up with what his brain tells him is best. Instead, he stares out of the tower window, a flash of deep red and black catching his eye.

He sees you walking through the castle with such sure steps, in perfect tow with his sister. A creep of bitterness works its way up Aemond’s throat. The way you have encroached into the inner fabric of his family leaves him feeling uncomfortable. As if you were always meant to be here. A harmless addition, but he knows better. There is nothing harmless about the way Aegon looks at you.

The only vindication he gets is his mother’s shared hesitance. But in the end, he knows Alicent is too tired to say anything unless true harm is being done. Even she can appreciate Aegon having a singular focus for once, even if it not his wife. And she is undoubtedly fond of your strait-laced yet kind nature. You knowing your place makes all the difference. But Aemond sees hints of boldness and rashness.

It feels odd watching a woman not of his family so garishly wear the color that matches the walls of the castle. But too terribly fascinating to look away from. The black dress with Ruby red trimming sits off the shoulders elegantly. Your hair pulled up showing off a swan like neck that he has only seen on his mother.

Poised, well-read, quick witted, and all wrapped up in a pretty package. You are the ideal vessel for a royal bastard; he knows you see it too, you are too bright not to. A perfectly placed temptation.

He knows his brother is foolish enough to try it.

Mindlessly, his hand goes to his throat. The touch is not the same as yours. His sword withered hands nothing like the dainty soft one that danced across his nights ago. He swallows thickly.

“Aemond, are you listening,” his mother voice breaks through his thoughts.

He nods. As he pushes himself from the wall, he swears he can feel eyes looking up at him.

— — —

Aemond starts to wonder if all his thoughts will be tinged with violence and paranoia.

Simple ideas can be quickly shifted into something morbid. He does not when it started. After he lost his eye? After watching Aegon and Helaena get married? After learning about get married himself. It is easy to have this to turn into dust and ashes in this family.

Though Floris is a welcomed difference. The right amount of different yet bland enough that his thoughts on her dissolve into nothing. Sweet, and palatable; things could be far worse he guesses. He could be stuck with far worse. She lets him do as he pleases. Finds ways to occupy herself that has nothing to do with him, a comfort.

When he hears laughter coming from their chambers, he assumes she must be with one of her ladies in waiting. He internally groans at the small talk he must make with them. Pretending to care about whatever court gossip they dither on about. But when he walks in he sees a table full of tea and treats.

“My love,” Floris hops up from her seat, a bright smile on her face. A warmer disposition than the one she had been sporting since the news of not being with child.

Before he can reply, the person in the seat turned away from he springs up with equal vigor.

“Prince Aemond,” you curtesy, polite smile on your face.

For today, the cold, silk targaryen-esque garb had replaced with a lace emerald green and gold gown. Coils falling in way that create a halo around you. He should add chameleon to the list of attributes. The transformation is remarkable. The typical icy demeanor being washed away with a young, sheepish, and girly smile.

Aemond bites back a sneer. His body feels like it vibrates whenever you are near. He has not figured out if it is anger or something entirely different.

“We were just having tea,” Floris looks at you then at the wine on the table, and you two share a knowing giggle. “Chatting away.”

He waits for the moment you finally excuse yourself, but it never comes. The two of you continue to whisper and giggle as if there is an inside joke no one else will be in on. He tries not to focus on it as he takes off his riding gloves, and cloak.

A guard comes into the room asking for Floris. He sends a prayer to the Gods that his wife will take you with him. But all she does is tell you that she will be back soon.

“Did you have a nice ride,” your voice rings through the room. Aemond lets out a deep sigh, turning from the clothing cabinet. He turns to find you lounging in the chair, goblet in hand.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her leaning against the wardrobe.

“I have always thought about it,” your lips are stained red from the wine. “Taming a dragon, riding a dragon. Your wife is very lucky.”

Aemond blanches at the image that passes through his head. The vibrating feels like it is starting to radiate inside to outside. You down the rest of the wine.

“I am assuming she had ridden on Vhagar with you.”

She had…. once. Aemond had assumed it would romantic or a deep connection would be had. His at the time future wife meeting his first friend. She threw up afterwards, politely saying that she would never want to do that again.

Dragons are not for everyone.

“Maybe my brother will finally put you out of your misery, and let you ride his.”

Your lips curl into a cruel smile. “I would like that. I hear one good ride always clears the head. I am sure you have needed that lately.”

Aemond frowns not understanding what you mean.

“Floris was telling me about your problems. Do not fret Aemond, impotence is very natural while under pressure,” your eyes travel down his body, and you give him a fake pout in pity.

Aemond is sure he is about to lunge at you. His vision goes red for a second. “I am not impotent,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Nothing of what my wife and I do is any of your business.”

He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself to you. Insolent girl with too much time on her hands, and too many ideas in her head. Aemond slightly curses his brother for being the reason you even come around. You hold your hands up innocently.

“Your wife invited me to tea, and she brought up the conversation. I am only now trying to extend my support.”

Aemond always thinks the people around him are too trusting, too open. Helaena is painstakingly warm to whoever shows her an ounce of kindness. Aegon is easily swayed with pretty faces or a sense of camaraderie. His mother’s whole being shuts down at the sound of compliments. Floris is alone at court, in need a friend. You meet all of their needs in ways he cannot begin to. You know it as much as he does.

He should feel upset at his wife, but he doesn’t even have the passion to do that.

So, all he can do is focus on how you bring on a nagging tug in the pit of stomach. How he trusts absolutely nothing you do. How embarrassed he feels about you knowing any intimate details about him.

“But if I could give some advice,” you get up from your seat, walking towards him. “If your wife is not doing the trick, perhaps thinking about other things may help. Something that makes the blood pump a little faster.”

Aemond’s throat bobs. He glares, trying to think of cruel insult to dismiss the notion, but he finds his mouth dry and his tongue heavy.

The moment is interrupted by Floris coming in with a smile. “What did I miss?”

The transformation happens again, Aemond thinks. The low voice you had put on, and the hazy look in your eyes instantly go away. You turn to her with a chipper smile.

“I was just telling Prince Aemond about how I am looking forward to going to the orphanage with you, Princess Helaena, and the Queen on the morrow.”

You lock arms with her, and all Aemond can do is watch.

Wretched girl.

—— —

Later that night, when he feels Floris’s lips on his neck, and her hand working down his chest. He tries to think about how lucky he is. Floris is pretty, and kind. He has bolstered his family through the marriage. It should make him happy.

Despite himself, he finds himself thinking about other things. About berry red wine-stained lips, and a perceptive mind. A wet thumb tracing where his wife’s lips are. Heat pulls in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you wanting to ride a dragon. That night he cums harder than expected.

Maybe second sons deserve the best too.

#this weirdly being one of the fav things Ive written and I did it in like a couple of hours wimfksnf #like once an idea stick… it is STUCK I fear #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond fic #hotd aemond #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x fem!oc

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lovelykhaleesiii · 10 months

Note

as I was taking I am taking FULL advantage of the requests.

as I am on a roll for chubby daddy! aegon and professor! aegon may I maybe suggest an idea where his class is very surprised to discover that he has a wife and a child while they catch them onto a pic-nic and aegon is like 'yeah, why do you think that your papers comes with glitter on them? or handprints?'.

just cute chubby daddy! aegon who doesn't only have to handle a toddler at home but also at work (although he teaches either at high school or university).

ok ok that's it, I am done and I hope you'll enjoy my silly requests but if you don't, pls feel free to ignore them!

Angsti this is yet another delicious request!!! thank you for spoiling me with your ideas I can never get enough!!! hope you enjoy this xox

To Lead Astray Or Not...

PAIRING: chubby!Professor!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader [Modern AU]

WORDS: 2,381.

WARNINGS: fluff, Daddy!Aegon, professor kink (?), female oral receiving, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, size kink, slight breeding kink, non-implied references to affair/cheating, swearing.

A/N - something I whipped up on my little hiatus. still not 100% with my writing but it’s okay xx sorry my love, I changed the plot slightly, forgive me.

“Are they truly that oblivious to that shiny, gold band on your finger?” You lightly chuckle, amused at the revelation your beloved husband spoke of, upon returning home from work, with yet another spoiled gift of baked goodies in his hand.

Throughout the semester, since Aegon had commenced his new position, his pupils had taken it upon themselves, eager to delight their plump professor with delectable treats, knowing precisely the way to his heart was through his stomach. As untempted as Aegon was with their meticulous attempts, he wouldn’t deny himself to a few servings [the entire container], often plainly excusing his innocent debauchery with the line “it would be such a shame to waste food.”

“That seems to be the case… As much as I try to flaunt it on their faces. This is ridiculous, there's no time for these shenanigans. I have to put an end to their madness, or else-.” Aegon exclaims, with a mouthful of baked choc-chip cookies in his plump mouth. The fullness of his handsome face had accentuated as he gorged himself silly. Seemingly the sedentary lifestyle of working behind a desk, the most strenuous action he’d often only undertaken, was that of lifting a ballpoint pen to mark a few papers, Amounting overtime gradually, as it began to blatantly show on his newly found stout figure. Not that you had grown to distaste your beloved husband’s changes, quite the opposite, in fact.

“Or else I’d be losing my husband to some college school girls? He’ll have to roll himself out of here,” You subtly chuckle, as you continued on stirring the full, warm pot at hand.

“Y/N- Do not toy with me about this. It’s serious-” Aegon firmly put it, before reaching for another cookie, eyeing it’s detail, most likely estimating ratio of choc chip inside.

Aegon shared an immense enjoyment when it came to food, relishing in different cuisines and palates, and mostly baked treats. He was scarcely a picky eater and had a grand appetite, going hand in hand. Often in the late hours of the night when he remained tediously awake, skimming over and dotting down notes on mounds of papers, did he find himself constantly munching on something. Whether it was a sneaky fast-food takeout or some sweet snack he could scour in the pantry, his keen mouth was always full and chomping.

His plush, soft belly throughout each semester had slowly extended in size, generously pushing across his waistline that was now hidden beneath the mass. His hips had grown wider in frame, love handles now obvious in plain sight even beneath his tight dress shirts and tightly fitted blazers, tubby to hold as it would pool at the sides. Standing beside your dear husband, it was evident that Aegon's substantial frame could smother you whole, if he ever so desired as you did. Despite him paying now mind to his evident changes, you had rather relished in it.

Sidetracked in your own sensual thoughts, your lustful eyes lingering over Aegon relievingly devouring another cookie, the sudden shrieking cries erupting from down the hall snapped you back to the reality at hand.

"I'll get her-" Aegon uttered, licking the crumbs of his fingers as he strolled away from you hovering over the stove, as you busied yourself with the evening’s dinner. A minute scattered by, when you heard the familiar, heavy footsteps of Aegon re-entering the kitchen once more, only this time, with a little companion strapped to his arms.

"Look who just woke up, my sweet princess," Aegon giddily whispered, cooing at the little girl in his arms, as she rubbed her little lilac eyes: a split image of her Daddy. Resting her tiny head against his broad shoulder, Aegon swayed her from side to side subtly, bopping her lightly as he tried to feed her a cookie, taking a sneaky bite from it first.

"Hiya Mumma, someone woke up a little early."

Walking over towards Aegon and your daughter cosily nestled in his thick arms, you softly reach and grip for her hand pulling it in for a loving kiss. Earning a small little yawn from her behalf, as Aegon tenderly pecked at the base of her head.

"Sounds like we have competition, you and I, babygirl-" You taunt, exchanging a swift wink to Aegon, who in response rolled his eyes to your jab.

“C’mon Y/N. There’s no competition at all. Nothing could possibly tempt me, when I’ve already won at life. I have everything I could have possibly imagined and more, all thanks to you-”

“Not even with all these goodies, you can’t seem to help but scoff down, hmm?”

“If I’m being frank, my love… These don’t even come close to your home-cooked meals, isn’t that right, bubba?” Aegon bopping his little girl, stirring her more awake, as she nibbled at the small bite from the cookie, her face adorably screwing with disgust, in agreement with her father’s dissatisfaction with the treats.

“Well relieved to hear my cooking is keeping you grounded. Was getting worried I would be losing my husband to his schoolgirl fanclub. Perhaps their treats won’t be the only thing they’re willing to offer next time-” You tease, yet a grim tone coated your words, as you coldly turned your back to your husband, resuming your cooking once more.

“Y/N, baby, c’mon now-” Aegon earnestly sighed, as he carefully plopped his daughter down at her high chair, who now took the cookie to her own matters: the only time you were willing to allow her to play with food rather than indulging herself as her father did.

Aegon’s pudgy hands tightly gripped at your waist, tugging your body to swivel in his direction, as you face him defeatedly.

“Now how could you ever think that of me? Am I so naive to be seduced by some minor league scholar, when I have such a beautiful, accomplished wife at home, that I just can’t ever get enough of, who spoils me like a King? I mean look at me woman. Look at what you’ve done to me!” Aegon chuckles proudly, swaying his thick arms up as his eyes hover over his swollen gut pressing up against your meek frame.

“Please, Y/N. I’m going to come clear about this double life, squash all their hopes and dreams. You know how kids are at that age, don’t you remember how we were, huh?-” Aegon growls, as his hands snake their way behind, his palms finding their way naturally to your bosom, confidently squeezing at your fleshy cheeks, earning a little squeak from you. Intentionally pushing your smaller body against his cushioned frame, your blush lips meet with his momentarily falling into a passionate, longing kiss, as Aegon’s eager tongue peaks through your lips, swirling against yours. Immersing himself completely in your taste. Breaking free, his nose nuzzles against yours, as he gleefully smiles down at you.

“Don’t you ever dare to think otherwise, it hurts my feelings when you think of me capable of that, you know,” He quietly mutters, as his thumb gently grasps and pulls at your chin, nudging you to look directly up at him, your dimly joyful eyes met with his half-hearted smirk.

“I love you, and only you. My precious girl. Shall I make it up to you tonight, hmm?”

Giddily blushing and nodding to his words, just as Aegon slowly leaned in to chase another kiss, the loud babbling of your daughter tore him astray midway, interrupting the intimate moment, as you both gleamed at the little girl with sincere smiles, only to be met with her innocent frown. Just as her grandmother, Alicent, had noticed and shared, “she seems to have gathered her father’s expressive gene”, as she never seems to struggle nor shy away from her emotions.

“And you, my little one-” Aegon boasts, as he races over towards her, picking her up once more with such ease, as her weight is close to that of a feather for him.

“My two precious girls, what more could I possibly want?”

Later that evening, after you had both dined well together and the little princess returned to her crib from her Daddy’s plush lap, fast asleep in her deep slumber once more, Aegon took his steady time proving exactly what he meant. Lusting and touching at your body as he slowly undressed you piece by piece, handling you with great care as though you were some rare gem he had just unearthed, a delicate commodity in his bare hands. He could scarcely keep his hands off you even during dinner or as you washed the dishes, lulling his little girl asleep in one arm, and the other wrapped tenderly around your waist, embracing you.

“How’d I end up being the luckiest man in the world, huh? A wife that takes care of me, makes sure I’m abundantly well-fed, who blessed me with the most perfect child…. My beautiful fucking wife.”

Kissing at your tender skin across your abdomen leaving a moist trail, Aegon seated himself at the edge of the mattress, and you remained standing above, with his soft hands held firmly at your hips.

“And you think I would give up all this in a heartbeat? For a bunch of hormonal, minor league girls? You leave me no choice but to fuck some real, hard sense into you, Y/N.”

“Hmm, is that so?” You breathlessly whimper, as Aegon’s mouth lapped at your entrance between the front folds, his fleshy hands once again, finding their way to your bosom, as he firmly grips and kneads ar your cheeks.

“Gonna teach me a lesson, Professor? Have I been such an ignorant brat, needy to be put back in line. Punish me, Aeg. Teach me a good, hard lesson I won’t forget-”

Aegon releases his latched mouth from your throbbing, moist cunt, his lips glistening in the dim, cosy light. A familiar smirk strewed across his full face, one that you had gathered could only mean one thing… Mischief.

As Aegon’s weight had marvelled, so did his strength. Inevitably, his mass was heavier against you, often finding yourself squirming beneath his bulk and the mattress, as he would fuck you from atop with vigour. His thick, fat cock stretching your walls beyond relief, as you could meekly feel yourself from below clenching around his stiff cock, with his round gut laying sprawled above your own. The pressure he exerted from within your folds, bulging inside and the pressure from outside was overwhelmingly insatiable, stimulating you to an aching climax like none before.

Although, it also meant his once impressive stamina would now often exceed quickly, finding himself breathlessly huffing and puffing for more, Aegon remained insistent on continuing, with you eagerly taking the reins from above, as he would often lay himself comfortably down, pacing his rapid breath. Riding his cock was a pleasure, as he relished in watching you strenuously exert great efforts, like the obedient wife you were, keen to sate your husband’s appetite. Steadying yourself against his meaty flesh, often finding your small hands cupping and massaging at his now obviously, sensitive moobs. Not to forget on Aegon’s behalf, your tits were a glorious sight to see, enthusiastically bouncing above from the momentum of your quickening pace: especially after the birth, your breasts naturally remained somewhat swollen and plump, Aegon savouring your bodily changes just as much.

Nonetheless, the sex peaked, and Aegon remained true to his word… He indeed taught you a valuable lesson that night.

“Perhaps if I’ve fucked another child into you, that ought to keep you in check.”

“So you’ve been married this entire time?” One of his pupils exclaimed, confusion plastered across her face, as Aegon nodded keenly.

“Indeed, a very happy wife and little bub at home. With another on the way it seems, hence why I’ll be away next semester.”

“Is that why some of our quiz papers came back with glitter and weird little scribbles?”

Arms remained tightly folded, Aegon defeatedly shaking his head in disbelief, as he helplessly chuckled at the illogical discourse at hand. His wide back-side remained leaning back on his desk, the wood creaking beneath his weight, yet he paid no mind.

“Did you honestly think that was all me? And watch yourself Lannister, she’s learning pencil grip… She’s only 14 months, which is pretty impressive to me.”

“But you’ve never mentioned them before?” Another pupil hastily questioned.

“Never felt the need to. This is an academic lecture, not a TED Talk. And besides, did no one seriously not notice this?” Aegon exasperated, flashing his left ring finger, where a bulky, gold band wrapped around his thick digit.

The silence that fell the room was palpable: a few of Aegon’s avid fanatics, awkwardly attempting to pull away their filled tupperware containers, back into their bags or laps, in a poor attempt to hide their shame.

“Well I for one, would like to congratulate you Sir.”

“Nice save Lannister. Now can we actually get back to the lesson or any more questions I need to clear?”

“B-But you accepted our gifts? The cookies, and the-” One of the few Baratheon sisters that attended Aegon’s classes, stuttered, the colour in her face blush pink, yet her eyes saddened and watery, yet no tears fell.

“Who am I to deny my appetite from a little snack? And besides, what a waste it would be. I presume you ladies just wanted me to bump up your grades, yes?”

Each girl in the same exact front row that they’d been occupying the entire semester, began to nod in poor unison, not daring to venture not interrogate Aegon further, as his look now remained stern.

The single, thunderous applaud echoed across the room, as he clapped his large hands together, excited to carry on with the lesson. The subtle sounds of pages opening, and pencils clicking, as Aegon began to write across the board, he felt a burden lift off his shoulders. The clarity was a relief, and the fact that he had a loving family awaiting for his arrival was his greatest achievement yet. Spoiled with a bliss life, thanks to you, his dotting, devoted wife, there was nothing that could tempt him astray otherwise.

general taglist - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @rafesbarbiegirl @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit

credit for header - @/saradika

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goldenlavendered · 2 months

Text

welcome to my enclosure I have many thoughts and doodles abt lila (shipping mostly)

[ID in ALT!]

hc dump under cut (it gets LONGG lol)

General:

anthro au specific but since my Skid & Lila are both cats, some nights they'll just sit in total darkness (bc cats can see in the dark). it is great and enriching for both of them.

adding onto that, ever since Pump started coming over they added some glow in the dark star stickers along the walls to help him find his way around :)

Lila is transfem to me . I don't need proof or elaboration this is just something I know in my heart /lh

she probably started transitioning pretty young, which is something she feels lucky for. her parents were supportive ^_^ !!

that being said, her parents were rather protective, and she didn't get out too much as a youngin.

-- that is why she was so lax with Skid going outside. she was kind of overcorrecting for that.

She was probably deep into alt fashion in college (elaborated on later)

Shipping Opinions:

I am just some guy on the internet, if you like a ship I don't, that's great and I love that for you! Live your life.

Goldenlavender (x Jaune): gestures at url. I think it is funny. also.

I feel like they've quietly been pining for a very long time now, but they've both been friends for so long and don't want things to change.

there's something quiet and unstated, but definitely there between them. they don't kiss or anything, but they hold each other really close and aren't too shy about being affectionate. you know?

women who are best friends.

also ross would finally have a parent who can pass off as a natural reason why he has black hair. he is beating the hair dye allegations!!!!!!

Grapecandy (x Kevin): I'll be honest right now. I keep thinking Kevin's, like, 17.

He isn't, I think. But I literally didn't even think of him as being a suitable option for her for a while LMAO

I think I can sum up all of the wagegang x Lila thoughts here: It just doesn't compel me, unfortunately. I don't see their potential dynamic as being particularly funny, or spawning interesting drama. Shrugs. Sorry!

specifically w Kevin though I think they would break up as soon as Skid is brought up LMAO. like he doesn't hate the kid but he isn't ready to be a stepfather imo.

(x Bob): Do they have a ship name? Anyw the age gap isn't my main issue with it. Lila's in her late 20s at the youngest, and they're both adults. I don't think anyone means tiny witch Lila when they bring this ship up anyways

nor is the stalking or attempted murder. I had a creepypasta phase, these behaviors are obviously Very Bad irl but they can be interesting to see in fiction. morbid curiosity and whatever.

My main issue is that their potential relationship is so much more interesting if it isn't romantic, you know? Like, how do they know each other? What was he to her? Why did she react so strongly to seeing him in her past? She seems eager to try to reject the idea that the man in the photo is him, but why? Was he important to her? Did she care about him?

TL;DR: I want more fics abt these two's relationship, but specifically non-romantically.

Deadflowers (x Patty): Not sure about this ship name. I don't see this one often. Anyw, I don't actually have any thoughts on Patty, so this is going to be super short.

I think they might have a nice time together on a date, but I don't think it could be anything serious.

Though, if they did.. overworked x overworked means they'll have to take care of the other, even tho it'll mean they call each other hypocrites for working so much all the time.

I could see it as a background/dressing ship, but not really as the focus of anything. sorry girls

Poisonwine (x Skid's Dad): I want to know more from onscreen canon first!!! But I think they could be super interesting!!!

The tweet that implies that he didn't care bout Lila is. hROUUUGH (<- thang whose heart is breaking). He didn't care, but did she know that? Did she care? I feel like she did..

There's no way Lila doesn't know about the cult. I'm a believer that she was a part of it herself until he died (the robes, "Remember Lila") ...Did she join because of her own beliefs, or because her husband was in it? Did he have to coerce her at all?

I think he was a good dad to Skid.

You may notice this is a lot of me dancing around what I actually think they're like. That's because I don't want to really solidify any specific readings of what's going on here. I am embracing the future with open arms!!

they're t4t tho this is non-negotiable /silly

RoyalPurple (x Carmen): this was supposed to have its' own section but now I'm making a fic with them so just. wait a minute there HAHAHA /silly

(& Streber): this is a Specifically platonic headcanon but I like to think they ve gone to the same university. They're definitely in diff strands, Streber to Engineering and Lila to Architecture, but they could've met through an org and just been pals.

They weren't suuper close or anything, but they were birds of a feather. Girl who goes to class with chokers and giant boots, and guy dressed like a victorian fantasy LARPer.

I think she sent him flowers or a get well card in the hospital :) [miserable hand shake between them abt being personally victimized by Bob]

The Ships That Don't Have Doodles

these will just be single bullet points!

(x F. Gregor): same comments as wagegang x Lila; doesn't compel me. Nothing's wrong with it, I just don't see it.

(x Dexter): this is only funny to me because I draw Lila and co as cats in the Anthro AU. he calls her a stupid bitch, we can move on.

(x Jack): I could see a onesided crush from his side, like "the lady who keeps calling is kinda cute" but I don't know if I could see it getting serious. she can give him a smooch if he wants, as a treat.

(x John): ok this one could actually be really cute. eatyourmaker's post abt Skid and John getting along is super adorable and I could maybe imagine Lila hitting it off with him after seeing how much he cares for Skid. maybe Skid plays matchmaker. this could work. I like it.

(x Ignacio): in the deleted scenes she tried to beat a teen to death for calling Skid a dumbass, I don't think she could get over the threats.

(x Fat Thief/Thin Thief): this could be funny if she was still mad at them for breaking in repeatedly. she doesn't seem threatened by them just irritated LMAO

(x Frank): childhood friends who don't really talk but are chill with each other. they're funny. I don't feel the romance tho. S&P's cool uncle

(x Pump & Susie's Parents): Pump & Susie officially get Skid as a brother AND they finally have one (1) parent who isn't always absent, just sometimes absent. other than as a background detail tho there's nothing here.

(x Mayor Evermore): they would ignore each other on the street on purpose

(x Moloch): he didnt get to but he WOULD call her a bitch.

(x Richard): poor man's Lila x Carmen

(x Spider): please let my girl beat the spiderfucker allegations.

#pegg rambles #spooky month #lila spooky month #lila sm #sm lila #spooky month lila #spooky month sr pelo #not tagging anyone else or the ships bc I am already tired thinking abt it

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winxrewritingsandfictions · 2 years

Text

Game of minds part 1

Pairing: BloomxSky, ErendorxSamara

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, manipulation

Length: medium

It was late at night. Erendor was standing at the window of his office, observing the night. Everything was quiet around him. The silence was heavy, reflecting the king's troubled mind. His blue eyes were lost in the dark daybreak of the cold winter. Half of his angular face was enlightened by the dim light of the fire from the fireplace, the glow shining golden on his long blond waves.

His beliefs and his education forced him to keep a straight posture, even though he was alone in the room. If he had been any other man, he would have crouched on the window-sill. But Erendor was not a regular man. And neither was his son. This was precisely what troubled the blond man; his son's longing to be "normal". It had been his idea to switch the name of his son with the one of his squire. It had been all planned. The prince's security was at stake. What Erendor had not planned was his son's growth. He was proud of the man his son was becoming, but it seemed that a lot of values his education was built on were slowly perishing. That, Erendor could not fathom.

The king glanced over his shoulder. There was a stack of magazines on his desk. The tabloids were addicted to a new face. A fairy and her best friends. They were so young, and yet, they were so loved. No doubt that these girls would grow up to be very influential figures in the magic dimension.

A sigh escaped him. Another one.

Leaving the window, he went to his desk. Slowly, he reached for one, but before his hand could touch the magazine, he jerked it away. Sighing once again, he crunched over the wooden desk, putting his hands on it. Damn him. The whole situation was frustrating. The fairy was a complete paradox. How was he supposed to shape his son if the latter was so weary of his own father's ruling? Sky had voiced many times over the past years how he did not agree with Erendor's ways. How absurd!

Erendor's attention was drawn back to the door. He could hear his wife's voice on the other side. A second later, the door opened on her. She was dressed in her night robes, a long dressing gown over it.

Closing the door behind her, she watched her husband. Of course, she knew what was bothering him. A quick glance at his desk and her suspicions were confirmed. She looked away, recalling the multiple conversations she had with their son.

Erendor watched her. He knew what she thought of the situation. He knew what she wanted. And no matter how much he cared about his wife, and how much he valued her opinion, he found it hard to share her view.

"Erendor..." She said, getting closer.

"I have told you, Samara! I do not want to play with the future of my kingdom. It is but too risky."

"I'm not telling you to marry her to our son the moment you agree to give her a chance."

"See, this is the issue here. I'm cornered by you, by Sky, by these!" He said, pointing to the magazines. "I'm tired of being pushed over." Samara rolled her eyes. "Do not roll your eyes at me, Samara! It is not a game."

"Nobody said it was," she answered calmly.

"Ha! Nevertheless, you all act as if it was a game. Giving her a chance, you said," he scoffed, "a chance implies risks as much as it implies success. I will not gamble on the fate of the kingdom!"

She looked up at him, a hint of spark in her eyes. Noticing it, he squinted his eyes at her.

"What is on your mind, wife?"

"Here is the thing. Who said you had to gamble?" Erendor was now curious. A sly smile transformed her face. "We know of her heroic tendencies. We also know she loves our son. And truly, the part of risks you assimilate with her is a consequence of her education, or rather, her lack of education. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are. However-" he started but was cut off.

"She does not have any party favoring her. No pedigree whatsoever. I am well aware of this, dear husband. But look at what she could be giving us." The queen's voice was stable. Strong. Her arguments were sharp. She knew where she was going. "She might not have blue blood, but she has a reputation, and certainly not a bad one." She took one of the magazines. "Even those mediocre publishings have a high opinion of her. She is, after all, a hero." She saw his eyes squinting, even more, an indication that his brain was making connections. "Imagine what it could be if we were to officialize their relationship. The Golden Prince and the powerful and unstoppable Guardian Fairy ?" She let the information sink in. "Forget about her lack of education. Make sure she spends her summers here and this will be dealt with. She shall learn!" Finally, she backed down. "Then, and only then, will they be the most powerful couple the magic dimension had ever seen. Heraklion will be elevated to another status, Erendor! Not royal, but celestial!" At this, Erendor's eyes shone. "She does have potential. Maybe more than any good party we know of."

The silence following her tirade was deafening.

Solemnly, the king set his eyes on his wife, hypothesis merging in his brain. Yes, maybe the fairy was something they could use.

-------------------------------------------------

I'm really happy with how this turned out! Really, the couple being ruthless toward Bloom is something I love, because it only builds the cliff they will fall from when Bloom will be acknowledged as princess Bloom of Domino, and not just a commoner. They are calculating and manipulative. There will be a second part where they decide to spy on her.

I want to thank @gins-potter for letting me use her modifications of Erendor.

You might want to read this series as it follows up on the plan Samara exposed.

Here are you few suggestions if you want to keep reading :

Colonel Riven

Finals

Dragon's land part 1/3

#winx #winx club #skloom #winx bloom #winx sky #heraklion #royal #plotting #royalty #fanfiction #writing #my writing #season 2 #bloom x sky #winxclub

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annesthaeticc · 2 years

Text

Midnight Love | Dr Strange x Fem!Reader

| a song fic, kinda; Midnight Love by girl in red (listen to the song here)

| 3451 words

| angst, fluff, implied smut (dirty jokes)

| You've just had enough. It's been two years of the same thing and you want something to change, you want him and only him, you want to finally love him and him to love you.

| NOTE: hello i am back bitchezz! oh wow, i feel like it's been a long time since i wrote a dr strange one. i was playing with the wedding!stephen idea for a long time now and last night at around 3 am, i outlined this fic. i hope u guys like it as much as i do! pls let me know ur thioughts ! comments, hearts, and reblogs, are much loved by moi <3

You sighed as you took in your reflection in your vanity mirror. Still wondering why you are even doing this, you absently picked up the bottle of mascara and wiped the brush across your lashes, making it curl. Why are you doing this? Just why? Today was the dreaded date, the day that’s been marked with a red—no, blue highlighter on your diary. Just get through the day, you whispered to yourself, applying the last spritz of perfume on your neck. You stood up and teetered on your heels, shiny and sparkly to match your dress. You were once again berating yourself for being anxious and nervous for such a stupid reason when the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of on Dr Stephen Strange. The renowned surgeon now retired from performing neurosurgery and now a very much active superhero protecting reality and time. You opened the door and it revealed such an immaculate sight of Stephen, one you’ll definitely never forget. You whistled, a wide smile threatening to form on your lips, and he rolled his eyes in response.

“You scrub up well, doc.” you giggled.

“I prefer the robes much more. Now please can we get a move on?”

“And I prefer this, sorry but I am such a sucker for men who wear suits.” you stepped out of your house, clicking the door shut. Stephen scoffed and walked forward, stopping a few steps from you.

“You’re fucking the wrong guy, then.” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I think I am.” you replied with a small smile. You reached out and touched his tie, adjusting it lightly.

“You look beautiful by the way.” he complimented you, watching your cheeks burn red.

“What? No clever comeback on that one?” he challenged you. You ducked your head and smiled.

“Are you wearing that blush makeup thing or are you actually blushing?” he pushed further, laughing at his attempt to tease you. You turned and face him, shyly looking up at him, “Thank you.” He stepped closer to you, and lightly kissed the corner of your lips. “I mean it. Now come on, we’ll be late.” his baritone voice grumbled before he drew you in, held your hand, and led you to the waiting taxi.

As the yellow taxi morphed into the busy streets of New York, you watched the streets and the high buildings fly past the window. You opted to be quiet, to be left alone with your thoughts as Stephen idly ran his thumb on your hand, soothing you and not helping you calm down at all at the same time. Why were you so nervous, anyway? Well, it’s because of the mere fact that you are attending as Stephen’s plus one in Dr Christine Palmer’s wedding. There was history between them, an ex of some sort, and Stephen didn’t like to talk about it too much, because it was in the past. And it’s going to stay that way.

Why were you bothered so much anyway? You and Stephen are just friends.

Friends; not the kind of friends who run to each other when they’ve got boyfriend or girlfriend troubles or problems in life in a general sense, a shoulder to cry on, that kind of friends. No, you and Stephen aren’t that kind of friends, you were the kind of friends who come over to each other’s’ flat, fucks, and at least have 5 orgasms in a row. It’s a bit much but hey, it’s true. Dr Stephen Strange is your fuck buddy and sometimes your stamina cannot keep up.

You stole a glance at the said man and he was also deep in thought. Sometimes, you want to crawl up in his head and stay there, just so you could know what he’s thinking about. Stephen sensed this and squeezed your hand and looked at you. He asked if you were okay and you nodded before gazing back at the window.

Yes, you were friends. The kind of friends who hold each other’s hand at the back of the taxi. But not the kind of friends who should have feelings for each other.

How the two of you started this arrangement, was actually unexpected. You remember the night clearly. As if it’s embedded itself right there in your core memory, one you’re sure you’ll never forget; never in a million lifetimes.

You were in line, waiting for your fried rice and orange chicken when he walked in the restaurant. It was a tiny Chinese place in Greenwich Village, the place only consisted of a few tables, a counter, and a kitchen at the back. But people loved the place, it was run by family to family and the menu and the recipes almost never changed. Just like your life, you were wondering, no, hoping, for something new to happen into your mundane life. You were idly thinking about it as your ear pricked up as the number of your order was called. You collected your food, thanked the staff who gave you service, and checked out the bag of food, subtly inhaling the delicious scent.

As if the universe, or some mighty being out there heard you, something in your life changed. You literally bumped into the change himself. Said change was wearing light blue shirt, black jacket, and sweatpants. You felt him before you heard him and before you knew it, your fried rice was all over the floor of the restaurant. You apologized profusely, flustered and a bit angry for having to buy another carton of fried rice.

He apologized too, and gave you a kind smile.

And unexpectedly, he offered to pay for half of your fried rice. Stephen was surprised too, when he heard himself say that.

But there was something in the air that night. No one knew what it was. You of all people were clueless of what it is. Maybe it was an after effect of the Blip, loneliness hung in the air like a perpetual sort of way, it was always there, spreading misery like it is a disease. Anyway, people sought out people when it happened. People suddenly valued the company of another, appreciating it and treasuring it like a precious stone.

People lost people, and then they moved on, gained more people in their lives.

Maybe Stephen was feeling particularly lonely that night. But who really knows?

And so, the two of you exchanged contact numbers and separated ways. The next time you saw him, you both ended up on his bed, panting and relishing the post-orgasmic high. That was also the night the two of you agreed that whatever you have; it’s purely physical. It’s just sex. No commitments. No chocolate hearts and flowers. No romantic dates. No Christmases, no Valentine’s. It’s just sex.

Lizzie, your best friend, scoffed at such an arrangement. It’s bullshit, she said. You’ll always remember what she said; “it’s a bunch of nonsense. Because it just doesn’t stop at sex. You’ll want more. Next thing you know, he’s cooking you breakfast. Or he’s asking you to go somewhere with him. And then you’ll be hanging Christmas ornaments on his tree. Next thing you know, you’re invited as his plus one at a wedding or some shit—"

“Your relationship with him, whatever it is, is none of my business, for now. But when he breaks your heart, when this—whatever you two have breaks your heart, it becomes my business.”

How right she was. Especially the wedding part. And this, whatever you two have has been going on for two years. In those two years, it wasn’t just sex. Because somehow, in the middle of it, the two of you craved for more. But scared to do so much more. Scared to cross the proverbial boundary that leads to commitment. Scared to be free; free of feeling and being in love.

The car rolled to a stop at the church and your thoughts stopped too. It was time to focus, time to stop thinking about being in love with Stephen. Ever the gentleman, he paid the driver and helped you out of the car. In instinct, he offered his hand and you took it. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the small chapel, quietly processing and musing about the event.

It wasn’t over the top, it was simple. Almost endearing in a sort of way. You wanted a wedding like this.

“But will you ever get married?” Stephen replied, and it later registered to you that you said that out loud.

“I have no idea. Why don’t you check your time thingy if I do?”

“I don’t want to.” he quickly responded.

“Why not? That way I’ll have one less invitation in the pile.” you joked. He looked at you questioningly.

“’Cause I won’t send you one. I’ll just tell you to come, RSVP your name and badger until you come.” you laughed softly.

“Either way, I won’t check if you’ll get married or not. I don’t think it's worth it.” he said stoically, trying to mask what he really meant to say. I don’t want to see if you’ll get married because I want to save myself the disappointment that in the far future, I won’t be the man you’ll be marrying.

You hummed, waiting for his harsh words to sink into you. You looked up at him and offered him a small smile that he graciously returned. He led you across the room, introducing you to his past colleagues.

“This is Y/N, my friend.” he said, too many times. Repetitive, like a chant that has started to poison your head. My friend. My friend. It was painful to the point you wanted to cry and leave. But before you could, the ceremony started.

The bride, Christine, was really beautiful. For a moment you forgot your insecurities and stared at her in awe as she walked down the aisle in her white gown. You tore your gaze from her and turned to look at the man beside you. His face was impassive, giving nothing away, but you could feel his trembling yet elegant hands gently trace your lower back, you folded your arm into your back, his fingers found yours and interlocked them together into a subtle hold.

You couldn’t read him, you couldn’t figure him out, but you were sure you could feel him. And for a moment, that was enough.

Stephen remained quiet throughout the ceremony, the vows made by the newlywed, the excited cheers, muted in the background as his thoughts wildly bounced around his head. He was overthinking, yes, and it was such an understatement. The instant second, he laid eyes on you; you were wearing a navy-blue dress and glittery strappy heels, your hair in a beautiful mess, your face relaxed, laughing and blushing, his heart stuttered and his mind malfunctioned.

You were stunning. And you were not his.

It troubled him greatly that you were settling on your arrangement, almost too content in just being fuck buddies. Because no, he was getting tired of it. He doesn’t want to settle on just that. He wanted you. And only you. But something always held him back, perhaps it was the amount of work he has; his plate is almost too full for his liking, perhaps it was the fear of suddenly losing you because of the dangers of his superhero gig. But when you held his hand behind your back, it was when he realized why was afraid of so many things when your smile and your touch are enough to chase away the fear. Stephen decided it was enough. Whatever you two have needs to stop at being just that, it needs to be more.

“I do.” “I do.” Rings were exchanged. Tears were shed.

“Are you okay?” you asked him as he glanced at you.

“Yeah, I am.” he exhaled.

Soon enough, the ceremony ended and people started to pile outside, taking pictures and congratulating the newlyweds. Soon enough, you were introduced to the bride, Christine. She pulled you away from Stephen discreetly and said, “He told me a lot of things about you.”

“Did he? Good things, I hope.”

“It’s all good, don’t worry. And your dress, you look amazing.” she smiled, and you knew, you like her.

“Not as amazing as you. Congratulations. Really beautiful ceremony.” you said with a smile.

“I hope he is treating you well, he’s a bit of dick but I know you’ve been really good for him.” she said, holding your hand lightly. You giggled and reassured her that it’s all fine, that he is treating you well.

“Now come on, let’s look out for a glass of champagne, I am dying for a drink.” she sighed and smiled. The two of you got along fine and you could see why Stephen was smitten with her. She was charming and nice.

The two of you, you and Stephen, found yourselves within the wedding crowd, waiting to get settled in the assigned tables and chairs in the reception, flute of champagne in your hand and in his, the banter started.

“Weddings huh, the end of an era.” you sighed dramatically.

“Hardly, I think it’s the beginning of one.” he replied with a smirk.

“Who are you and what have you done to Stephen Strange?” you asked with your eyebrows raised.

“You’re forgetting the ‘doctor’, darling, and no, it’s still me, just a bit optimistic.” he chuckled.

“You’re hardly a doctor anymore,” you scoffed and gave him a wink.

“Perhaps, I should remind you later, when we’re alone. Remind you that I am your doctor whether you need one or not.” he whispered into your ear, and immediately you sucked in a breath, taken aback. A shiver ran up your spine and you exhaled the breath you were holding in.

“I’m sure I don’t need a doctor, I’m perfectly fine. But I’ll let you check me up, examine me, probe me and poke me anyway.” you replied and winked at him before moving away from his presence.

Wedding receptions were always fun, or at least that’s what you think. There’s food, booze, and cake. Things you’ll never turn down even if you were secretly pining for the man next you and secretly angry at yourself for letting yourself fall in love with him. As the night wore on, your wine glass was refilled almost always. The dance floor opened up and under the colored lights, you watched the newlywed dance for the first time. Their movements are slow and sweet, matching their favorite song. Under the spinning and altering colored lights, you wondered if you’ll ever experience the same with the man beside you, Stephen Strange.

As if he heard your thoughts, he stood up and straightened up his jacket before offering his hand to yours, silently urging you to join him on the dancefloor. You accepted with a smile, holding on to his hand, scared to let go, scared to let this fleeting moment end.

He led you to the side of the dancefloor, guided your hands where it should be, and drew you in close to him, your bodies almost touching. Stephen swayed into the song, leading you with him. You watched him, your gentle gaze meeting his nervous one.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice almost drowning into the song.

“You.”

“What about me?” his voice was laced with curiosity.

“You really look amazing in that suit; I want it to stay on while you’re fucking me.” you whispered into his ear, it was now his turn to get flustered.

“And I want to fuck you too, but your high heels will stay on.” he retaliated, you giggled and you let your head fall into his broad chest.

You could hear the steady pounding of his heart and you wanted nothing but to stay there, right there in that moment. If you could just keep it in a bottle and save it for a sad rainy day. The song morphed into another and the two of you still swayed along to the melody. You were a bit drunk and you wanted nothing but Stephen’s company.

There was something about the song that made your ears prick up and listen carefully. Maybe it was the dull and steady beat, almost matching Stephen’s heartbeat. Maybe it was the powerful piano accompaniment, or the hauntingly beautiful voice of the artist. Maybe it was the lyrics.

Oh oh,

I can’t be you midnight love,

When your silver is my gold,

Oh, oh oh,

In this light I swear, I’m blind,

Oh, oh oh,

In this light I swear you’re mine.

The song was appallingly apt to what you were currently feeling, it bothered you, a niggling feeling that crawled up your skin. As the song drew to its end, you were distancing yourself more from Stephen. You finally had enough.

I can’t be your midnight love. When your silver is my gold. You finally had enough calls during the middle of the night, calls full of want and need. You finally had enough of the uncertain and empty words that hung in the air. You finally had enough of all of it.

You wanted him. You want him all to yourself. You want more of him. You want to stay in the morning and wake up next to him. You want to finally stop leaving, and him leaving every after meeting.

In this light I swear, I’m blind. In this light I swear you’re mine. How could you be blinded by fear for so long? You were blindfolded for a long time. You forgot to actually look for the light, the shining light of realization that there’s nothing you want more in this world but to be with him and only him. You want nothing in this lifetime but to love him and only him.

Tears pricked your eyes as you parted with him, leaving him on the dancefloor. Stunned, Stephen stood there, watching you disappear under the lights and within the party crowd. It took him seconds to realize that he should follow you and at least make sure you get home safe, as he always did.

He found you outside the hotel, waving for a taxi. Stephen cautiously approached you and noticed you were lightly shivering. So, he removed his jacket and walked towards where you were pacing.

“Y/N,” he said, passing his jacket to you and you shrugged, moving away from him. You hastily wiped your tears and sniffed. He looked so beautiful and it’s heartbreaking.

“Y/N please, let’s talk. Tell me what’s wrong.” he said, his voice dripping with sincerity. You still looked away from him, gathering the strength to face him and show him how you were so in love with him, it’s breaking you. You took a few deep breaths before the words tumbled out of your trembling lips.

“I can’t be your midnight love.” you echoed the lyrics of the song. 6 words that meant so much. Meant so much love and so much pain.

“Not anymore, Stephen. I’m ending this.” you continued. You watched him with glassy eyes. He walked the small distance between the two of you and draped his jacket on your shoulders. Finally, you felt a sense of warmth. You ducked your head, embarrassed at crying in front of him.

“Look at me.” he said gently, tipping your chin lightly. You did and your gazes met.

“If you want to end this, then I’m with you. I want to stop whatever is going on between us, because I want more, Y/N,”

“I want you, and only you. Selfish as it may sound, and I know you deserve better—” you cut off his speech, holding your finger up to his lips.

“And I want you, Stephen. Only you. I don’t deserve better, no, I deserve us.” you said, your voice fading.

Stephen gave you his shy smile, the one you’ve come to know, the one he’s only reserved for you. He leant in, lightly touching his soft lips to yours. You kissed him back, chaste and sweet, short with full of promise. When the two of you parted, he planted his forehead against yours, whispering the words against your lips; “You should know, and you should always remember, you weren’t just my midnight love. I loved you and I will always love you in every second of the day, every second of the night.”

“And you were mine, Stephen. I will love you always, and timelessly.” you replied before kissing him once more.

“Will the suit still stay on?” he asked jokingly and you giggled.

“And I’ll keep on my high heels, Strange.”

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( hi! hope u guys liked that piece, pls let me know what u think, it's much appreciated as always <3 have a great day and stay safe! )

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

Meet the Parents

Based on the request: Imagine Peter Parker trying to ask Steve and Bucky if it’s okay to take their daughter on a date. He would be shaking in his boots.

Pairing: Stucky x Reader, Peter x Reader

Summary: You are daddies’ little girl, and Peter wants to take you out.

Words: 1.2k

Warning: incest (kinda? And only implied), daddy kink, 18+ ONLY.

A/N: It was a Peter request, trust me to turn it into Stucky

He had May choose him an outfit. Something that doesn’t scream trying too hard, but not something too lousy either. Peter was head over hells for you. Ever since you’d sat by him in Physics class, he knew he’d never be the same again. There was this instant connection, this electricity that cackled down his spine when you laughed with him.

You’d been best friends for a while, but now Peter wanted to be more. He wanted to take you out to coffee where you could share a dessert and hold hands. He wanted to take you dancing and put his coat over you when you got cold. He wanted to walk you to your door with a kiss of promise to pick you up in the morning. He wanted his phone’s wallpaper to be a picture of you both cuddling.

But there was this one obstacle that made his palms sweat. Peter knew you were very close to your dads, he’d seen them coming to the college campus to pick you up. You were well into your 20s and yet they doted over you like you were 5. Anytime Peter thought he’d ask you out, an image of Steve and Bucky towering over him made his heart beat faster.

After months of deliberation and waiting, he’d finally decided to do it. He was wearing his best outfit, he got flowers and had given himself a pep talk in front of the mirror. He’s going to drive to your home, ask your dads if he can take out their little girl and be a gentleman.

He may have stood outside the door for few minutes too much, but he finally rang the bell. The door opened so fast he wondered if the other person was listening in, waiting. Piercing blue eyes, like those that Zeus must have when he’s about to rain hell on someone, fixed on him.

“Parker” Bucky said, an eyebrow raised in amusement as Peter shuffled.

“Mr. Barnes” He greeted, offering him a hand that Bucky smirked at before taking in his own. Peter had to suppress a wince at the firm grip, and he resisted the urge to massage his fingers after he let go. Bucky beckoned him inside and Peter followed, marveling at the beautiful house. He smiled at your pictures on the wall, mostly smiling with your dads on either side of you.

“You are two minutes late.” Said a voice that broke Peter away from staring at your pictures. Steve was standing against the table, hands on his waist. When he stood like this, shoulder to shoulder with his husband who was just as big, Peter was reminded of how you said they’d been in army and right now, he felt like the enemy.

“Mr. Rogers, sir.” Peter said, shaking Steve’s hand which left his already bruised hand aching even worse.

“Dad, please. Stop.” You said, coming down from the stairs. You looked gorgeous, even though you’d dressed only casually for the movies. It was a bit ridiculous to be doing this at this age, but Peter knew to win you over, he needed to get on you fathers’ good side.

“A man who can’t be on time cannot be trusted.” Steve said and Peter looked down, cursing himself for lingering on the doorway too long. You huffed, smacking Steve on his chest with a grumbled ‘be nice’ that had Peter smiling. He shyly gave you the flowers he got and you took them, taking a huge whiff.

“I’m gonna put them in a vase and then we’ll leave.” You said, shooting a look at Steve and Bucky who were glaring a hole in Peter’s head.

“So, what are your intensions towards our girl?” Steve asked, looking very much the Captain he was.

“Entirely honorable sir.” Peter promised, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re going to movies and then dinner.”

Bucky chuckled sarcastically, walking around Peter as if examining him.

“We know what happens in a dark movie hall. You gonna leave a seat in the middle.” Bucky ordered and Peter opened his mouth in shock. He could hear your angry shouting from the kitchen from where you appeared with a scrunched nose.

“Dads, enough. Ease up.” You snap, glowering at their hazing. Steve rolled his eyes, sharing an exasperated look with Bucky as if you were the one being ridiculous. When you didn’t budge, they sighed, relaxing their arms.

“You gonna bring her back before 11. She doesn’t like her food too spicy and she hates drinking –”

“– Right enough, we’re going. I can tell my preferences for myself, thank you very much. Come, Peter.” You hastily said, cutting off Bucky. Peter nodded, barely having time to say goodbye to your dad as you ushered him towards the front door.

“Should I shake their hand?” Peter whispered when you were almost out.

“Do you want them to break your hand? Hurry!” You hiss back. You were right behind him, scurrying to his car when the clearing of a throat stopped you. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before looking over your shoulder to see Bucky and Steve with your jacket.

“You wanna catch a cold?” Steve asked, holding it out. Peter was sitting in his car, looking as you sheepishly smiled and stepped back inside, letting Steve slip the jacket over you. Bucky zipped it up for you, holding your chin with his thumb and finger gently.

“You call me the moment you think something is going wrong. He touches you anyway you don’t want him to, I’ll show up and beat his ass.” He assured you and you hugged him, burying your head in his chest and smelling his soothing scent.

“I know how to protect myself. You got nothing to worry about, I am your baby girl.” You mumbled and Bucky held you tighter.

“Damn right you are our baby girl” He said, pressing a kiss on your temple.

“Sweetie” Steve said, pulling you away from Bucky and into him. “You love your daddies, don’t you?”

You looked into his blue eyes, biting your lip at the authority and love there.

“Yes daddy, I love you both. This is a one time thing, I promise.” You said and felt them both relax. They really could deny you nothing, not even some other dick.

“He can never give you what we can.” Bucky said sulkily. He had a more difficult time coming around to this idea than Steve did, and you took his hand in yours, gently squeezing.

“I know daddy, I just wanna try something else. But I’ll always come home to you. You both are my life.” You told him and he squeezed your hand in return.

“We’ll keep the bed warm for you. It won’t feel the same.”

You almost wanted to cancel the date, but Peter was so sweet. And you needed a few hours away from both of them and their company. Every night you’d spent in their arms and under them in their bed, you have been in heaven. You just needed a night away where you could be a normal girl who wasn’t sleeping with her adopted fathers.

“A few hours, and I’ll be yours again.” You said softly and Steve stroked your cheek.

“You’ll always be ours” He corrected, and you turned your back to them and joined Peter in his car.

Peter glanced at you as you buckled your belt, nervously taking your hand in his after he started the car.

“They really love you” He commented, sneaking soft looks at you as he drove.

“Yes, they really do.” You agreed, watching the landscape pass you.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #peter parker x reader #peter x reader

1K notes · View notes

lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

Sooo, I saw someone else do this, and I really loved the idea. Since ur my fav writer👀 (*winkwink), I would absolutely die of happiness if you did an aot boys househusband headcannons. Idc which aot boys as long as Reiner is in it (fr tho he's the most househusband material 😩).

aaAAA i feel honored, thank you so much!! i hope you like it <3!!!! o(≧∇≦o)

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ shingeki boys!

❁ eren, armin, reiner, jean, connie, levi, porco, niccolo

❁ little implied mentions of sexual themes

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

eren:

- he tries his best, don’t judge him.

- if you’re out for more than a week, he’ll die of hunger.

- “honey how am i supposed to cook pasta?”

- “just put it in boiled water.”

- it wasn’t that difficult, but he left it in water for too much time while playing some video games and it is now a mass.

- he stays by your side while you cook, watching it cautiously, but he ends having you against the kitchen island.

- “Eren, i’m cooking, please.”

- his mouth bitting your ear playfully.

- “i’ll be satisfied just with you, no need of food.”

- usually he orders a pizza after that because the food ended being a mess.

- “Eren Jaeger, the next time you distract me from cooking...”

- but, he cleans really well.

- he’s really constant and he keeps doing it until it shines.

- he usually cleans while you work, and he leaves the automatic vacuum working before leaving for his work,

- but, once he puts his headphones on and connects online with his friends...

- his desk is a huge mess, full of energetic drinks’ cans and empty packs of snacks. he cleans it once he’s finished playing, but sometimes he forgets,

- he’s waiting for you on the couch when you arrive late, dressed with his shorts and with his hair tied in a man-bun.

- “i was waiting for you, i missed you so much today...”

armin:

- he’s really clean because he doesn’t mess or mess up things, so you can have the house organized.

- he only makes a mess when he's studying for important exams.

- a lot of books on his desk and around his chair. A lot of papers with appointments.

- "just leave this, i promise i’ll clean it once my exam is done!"

- he cleans it, unless he arrives really tired from the exam, then he goes to sleep automatically.

- when he's alone, he cleans the pets' houses and gets rid of their furr

- also takes naps with his cat while waiting for you.

- he’s really good at ironing, he’s really fast at it.

- his shirts are always impeccable.

- he’s also trying to learn how to cook.

- trying.

- “i made breakfast but i think i burned the pancakes”

reiner:

- he's a huge man and he seems clumsy, but no

- he's incredibly good at tasks.

- he wakes up early, even earlier than you, to prepare you a bath and breakfast for you two.

- “Rein, you don’t have to do this, you can sleep until your work hour”

- his work has night turns, but he shakes his head and keeps doing it for you.

- when you try to wake up early to do the same for him, he’s already awake, pulling you closer to him again.

- “why were you up so early.” he says , his sleepy voice caressing your ears when he speaks.

- he’s also really clean, and it is not new, Bertholdt says he was like that when they shared a flat.

- his breakfasts are the best of the world: strawberry smoothies and fruits salad with fluffy pancakes.

- when he has free day, he likes to buy little things that remind you to him when he walks with the dog.

- “I bought you this chocolate lip balm because you said your lips are getting hurt because of the cold.”

- he also loves kids so much. he wants to have a family.

- “just imagine a little girl waking us up at morning to accompany her to school.”

jean:

- he's so clingy he would do tasks just to be next to you.

- like, doing the laundry in the washing machine room, so small for two people, and be really near to you...

- and at the same time, he wants to show you he deserves to be your husband.

- he works a lot just to show you he can be your husband and the daddy of your children.

- "look babe, try my spaghetti"

- they were actually good, if he cooked a little bit more he will master it for sure.

- "imagine if we make here a garden with a couple swings for our babies?"

- he started working o a cute garden for you two spend the summer days out.

- he put white roses and pink dahlias, and a table with a couple chairs.

- he also put some lights for the night, to power them on and be a even more incredible garden.

- he also proposed to you under this lights.

connie:

- he lazy

- he just wants to watch tv, eat and sleep.

- but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do tasks.

- not a lot of them, but he does.

- like he does, but not all of them.

- “i don’t know how to use the washing machine.”

- “then mop the floor.”

- “but that’s so boring, baby please...”

- when he goes to the supermarket, he buys cups of instant ramen and sodas.

- “Connie we need real food to survive. We can’t eat everyday instant ramen and cola.”

- “but you look the color of the lettuce and i don’t know why, so imagine i take a poisoned lettuce because i didn’t analyze the color and we both die”

levi:

- he cleans the house in deep every two days.

- he also keeps it organized.

- actually the thought of having kids bewitches him but scares him, just thinking about all the toys in every part of the house.

- he’s a really clean man, and you also clean up the house while he works.

- he likes to spoil you with his acts, like preparing you bubble baths, helping you to sew your clothes and making you braids.

- fortunately, your bathtub is big enough for the two of you bathing together.

- he likes to caress your waist and torso quietly, just the sound of water and your quite breaths.

- his hands on you makes your skin feel electricity.

- he enjoys that moments of privacy and intimacy.

- also drying your hair when you’re about to go to sleep.

- "if you sleep with it wet you'll catch a cold, dummy"

porco:

- he usually avoided the chores, but when you moved with him, he started to pay more attention to what he had to do.

- he’s more fixed on the way your hands take his clothes than on the things he has to do to wash them.

- “i’m paying attention!!”

- his excuses are always that you're a distraction for him.

- "but you're so gorgeous... i need you. now."

- "porco it's the fifth time you say that today..."

- "and not the last."

- you can't say no because you're as needy for him as he is for you, but you try to hide it.

- at the end, he needs help for all the tasks.

niccolo:

- he cooks sooo well

- every time you arrive home, he’s cooking something.

- pizza, seafood, cakes...

- the house always smell so nice...

- you don’t know how to cook that well, but you help him cleaning all the things he uses for his plates.

- and you help him giving him what he needs.

- “could you pass me that knife, please?”

- his hands always touches yours when he takes the knife

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vanillanaps · 3 years

Text

Unthinkable | Bucky Barnes

Summary - Tired of hiding your relationship with Bucky, you decide that you’re ready to go public, but when he doesn’t have the reaction you expect, things take a turn for the worst

A/n - Unthinkable x Alicia Keys

Category - 40s!Bucky x black!Reader, angst

Warnings - well it’s the 40s with a black reader so, language, implied smut (if you squint) talks alluding to racism.

Word count - 2.0k

♡♡♡♡

A soft breeze gushed through the open space of the cracked window, filling the room with crisp air. Yours, along with his, body laid beneath the thin fabric that barely covered anything. Slick with sweat limbs were limp, chest heaving as your breathing tried to regulate. You were connected to one another, his fingertips trailing the side of your naked hip as his warm lips pressed soft kisses onto your shoulder.

“I should go soon, doll.” He muttered into your neck, a smile gracing his lips once he heard you groan. Wrapping his arms fully around your waist and pulling your body flush against his, “I know, I know. I don’t wanna go either, but I have to.”

You relished in the moment for a while longer. The way his lips felt against yours, his calloused hands following along the curves of your body, gripping it where he pleased before it all ended. Bucky pulled away from you with one last kiss. You watched him as he sat on the side of your bed, pulling his boxers up his legs and over his hips.

A quiet sigh escaped you as the dread flooded in. You hated this. Bucky quietly sneaking his way into your neighborhood, into your window to spend a few hours of the night with you. A whole 19 hours passing by before you could hold him in your arms again. Sure, you’d see him on the streets, but what good was that? You couldn’t walk over to him, hug him, hold his hand, kiss him. Hell, you would barely be able to speak to him without receiving the looks you had gotten for simply just living in your skin. But, was it worth it? Was fearing the way people viewed you worth you finally being happy in public with the love of your life? Would it be worth letting the plethora of women that came up to flirt with Bucky fly free? Countless amounts of times had you watch women walk up and flirt with your man. Of course, he’d turn them down but not without that charming smile that had them still thinking they had a chance. That charming smile that won you over in the first place.

You wanted to be able to flaunt Bucky. To tell those women that he was taken by you. To be able to tell your family that you were in a happy relationship and found someone to spend the rest of your life with. A man that you were so deeply in love with and who were ready to have a family with, but you couldn’t do that in hiding.

Your eyes followed Bucky around your room as he collected his scattered clothes, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He glanced over at you, letting you know that he was listening before pulling on his pants. Taking your lip between your teeth, watching him dress, you started second guessing yourself. What if he didn’t feel the same as you did? What if he only liked you because it was a secret? He would be satisfied with his lay for the night and was relieved in the fact that he wouldn’t be bothered by you until he would be by your window again—No, no. Bucky wouldn’t do that, Bucky loved you inside and out, he would never use you in the way that you're implying. He’d never use you in a way that you didn’t want to be used, “Doll? What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?”

The concern in his voice pulled you from your thoughts and pushed away all the bad ones. He sat besides you, his steel blue eyes locked into your brown ones. You finally spoke, “..What do you think of me?”

Bucky eyebrows shot up in surprise. He could tell by the look on your face that something was bothering you, but was he expecting this question? Not in a million years, “What kind of question is that?” He huffed out a laugh.

“Buck, be serious.” You pouted, pulling yourself up to lean against the headboard, using the blanket to cover your chest, “What do you think of me?”

His eyes searched your face, finally realizing that you were serious. Had he done something recently to make you doubt yourself in such a way? Had he not been showering you in enough love whenever he got a chance to see you? Did he not call you beautiful enough? Spew to you much he loved you?

He nodded taking your hand into his, letting his thumb brush over your knuckles, “Well first, I think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You’re gorgeous, smart, hilarious, compassionate. You’re the only woman that I have ever loved more than anything in this world. And I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you...someday.”

Someday. Someday. Someday. The word repeated over and over in your head. Someday when? Today? Tomorrow? In the near future? How could it be someday when there wasn't a day the two of you had been seen together.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Nerves taking over your entire body. It was now or never. If he loved you like he said he did, there would be no objections, “I don’t wanna hide us anymore, Bucky.”

This time, it was Bucky’s turn for his heart to beat out of his chest. Were you being serious? Where did all this come from? The two of you had a schedule and it was there for a reason.

His eyebrows furrowed as he let out a nervous chuckle, “Baby, you’re joking—right? Tell me you’re joking?”

Your chest filled with pain as the tears bubbled in your eyes, pulling your hand from his grasp as you cleared your throat desperately not wanting to cry, “I’m serious, James.” His face dropped at the usage of his first name. He hated when you called him that. It was too serious—too formal. James didn’t feel like him. To you, he was Bucky, baby. Now you sat here calling him by his government, it definitely wasn’t a joke.

“But, why? Why would you want that? I mean, we do this for a reason, Doll.” He expressed, trying to reach out for your hand again only for you to push it away as you scrabbled out of the bed, scanning the room for your clothes now as he took your spot from watching on the bed.

“Why would I want that? Maybe because I’m sick and tired of us having to hide. Seeing you for what? 5 hours out of the 24 of the day? Sometimes even longer due to us working, or just having separate lives completely?” You ranted, pulling your undergarments on, picking up your dress from hours before and tossing it in the hamper, “I want to be seen with you, Bucky. I want to be able to kiss and hug you without a care in the world. Walk down the street holding your hand. Cuddle up with you at the theatre while watching a movie. I want to tell those girls that come up to that you’re taken! I don’t want to watch from the sidelines anymore! I’ve been doing it for a year and I don’t want to be your dirty little secret anymore!”

“Y/n, lower your voice before someone gets suspicious.” Bucky told you as he stood from his spot on your bed and made his way over to you, stopping you from wandering around the room. You were frustrated and he could tell by the way you had started cleaning in the middle of your rant, “Look at me.” He pleaded, face following yours as you turned it in every way trying to avoid him, but eventually his hand came up to grab your chin, forcing your face to stay still as his eyes came in contact with yours, “I hear you baby, loud and clear. I love you and I’d never want you to feel unhappy or insecure in our relationship—but we do this for a reason. Do you have any idea about the things people will say about you? The looks you’ll get? Baby we can’t, not now at least.”

“What can they say about me that they already haven’t, Bucky?” You sighed, finally letting that tear slip down your cheek, “I don’t care about them, I care about you! I care about us! And this—situation we have is hurting me.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.” He tried explaining.

You pushed his hand away, moving away from his body as you walked to the opposite side of the room, “Trying to protect me or trying to protect you?”

“Excuse me?” Bucky was taken back by your words.

Your tongue ran over your now dried lips, the saltiness from your tears now lingered on your taste buds, “How can you say you want to spend the rest of your life with me when you don’t even want to be seen in public with me?”

Now it was his turn to get defensive, “Don’t put words into my mouth.”

“How else am I supposed to take it?! What are you protecting me from, hmm? Have you listened to anything I’ve said?! People are going to talk about me because I’m just me. Simply because my skin is darker than yours and theirs.Whether I’m with you or not! I don’t care about what people think of me, if I did they would’ve ran me out of this town a long time ago. The only opinion I care about is yours!” You argued, “But clearly you do care about what everyone else says.”

Bucky stood there, shocked and confused. Just a few days ago, you were perfectly confined in what the two of you had been doing for over a year now. What had drastically changed that had you wanting to risk it all, “Yes, Y/n, I do care because I don’t want to sit and listen to people shit talk the girl I’m in love with! I want to marry you! I will marry you! I’ll propose to you right now and go out to get you a ring. I will do anything to make you happy and you know that. Why can’t you do this for me and just be patient?”

“Patient ‘till when? No matter where we go, we will get looks from people, Bucky! There’s no stopping that!” You were exasperated. This was getting nowhere, he was hellbent on staying a secret and you were the exact opposite. You were foolish to ever think this would work. Not in these times, “It’s getting late. Maybe you should just go.”

“So that’s it? You’re gonna kick me out now?” He questioned, waiting for response, but when your eyes never left the ground he got his answer. Bucky shook his head as put his shoes on before grabbing his jacket and going over to your window, opening it more. His escape route since it caused less attention than your front door. He glanced back at you one more, “I love you.” If possible, you’d be able to hear his heart shatter into a thousand pieces when you didn’t return your affection. There was never a time he didn’t leave you without the both of you saying I love you. This has done it now.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he left through the window. You waited a minute before going over to check if he was clear as you shut the window. Not a moment passed by before the tears began rolling. You questioned how a simple request had turned into this whole fiasco. You should’ve listened to your gut and never asked that stupid question because now everything you worked for, had gone to waste. All the love and commitment that had been put into your relationship was in the trash. Guess it wasn’t meant to be after all.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes

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ren-therose · 3 years

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The Penthouse Plot

Sherlock X F!Reader (3.8k words)

Summary: Sherlock, John and Reader all go to a penthouse party to pick up some clues about their newest case. But Y/N and Sherlock are put in a compromising situation.

Warnings: smut 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), creampie, squirting, after care

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“We are going to a party”

This was an incredibly abrupt statement from the detective who was still in pajamas at four in the afternoon, slouched down into the arm chair with the news paper covering his face. I couldn’t see his emotions, but I could tell that the idea had already been formulated, and he had not quite been excited out of it. His boredom was chronic, and it would often times only be soothed by myself to get him out of it.

The first time we met, I was sitting on a park bench in Paddington Street Gardens, not but two blocks away from his flat. As if drawn to the cigarette I was smoking, he walked up as casually as he could, coat turned up, and sat on the bench over from my left. I didn’t look, but I was aware that a tall, dark man was watching me as I tried to solve today's crossword in the paper.

He leaned closer, trying to take in the smoke for the nicotine high. With a slight glance his way, it was all I needed to take the cigarette from my mouth in my left hand, and casually rest it on the bench next to me. I blew out the smoke to the right side of my mouth though, purposefully keeping it from him, allowing my lips to guide the smoke in a stream to dissipate into the morning air. Still looking at the crossword, I began filling in 20 across, feeling a sense of intrigue and frustration emanating from the man next to me.

“It’s not diva, its aria,” a deep voice says. I smirk, not looking up to his face quite yet.

“No shit, Sherlock. 18 down is ‘erie’, so why would I put down diva?” I inquire, but before he could answer, I reply myself. “I was proving my hypothesis: is the detective next to me just trying to second-hand smoke, or is he actually paying attention to me? And the answer was both.”

He stands and comes to sit on my right side, not looking at me directly. The cigarette dangling from my lip wasn’t his main concern anymore.

“How quickly did you realize it is only an herbal cigarette Mr. Holmes?” I ask, erasing my trap from 20 across.

“As soon as I first looked at you. You have no stains on your fingers from the smoke, as well as no burns, which tells me you don’t smoke often. If you were a smoker, you would need at least a pack a day, and these tell-tale signs would be there. You don’t need to smoke because there isn’t an addiction. I presume you do it to attract men, though possibly women too, and to fit into the culture of London, as you are not from here. But you specifically looked up this park because you were looking for something or someone. I would presume it is me, considering you recognized me through my name” he says smuggly, finally looking at me. I didn’t know it then, but he later explained that he was shocked to see the prominence of my “subtle beauty”, and the way in which I held posture in every way that symbolized I was relaxed next to him. This of course was followed by the fact that I was so comfortable that I had gained a pound within the first year of knowing him.

“So you are as good as they say,” I reply, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Those eyes dart down to my lips where the cigarette is still being held by the moisture of my mouth. I remove it, holding out the cigarette between my fingers. “I can imagine it is worlds different from a regular cigarettes addictive effects, but the smell of smoke and the herbs inside might calm you,” I offer. He leans down and takes the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply. I let go of the cigarette as he leans back and removes it. He exhales out, happy to have something other than CO2 leave his lungs.

“You could have phoned” he said nonchalantly. I closed the newspaper and turned my body slightly more towards him.

“No I couldn’t. This isn’t about a case or me looking for my parents or some shit. I needed you to listen. I am a doctor and I am looking for the topic of my next publication” I state. His eyes widen a bit, as he gives me a once over. I was quite young to have a doctorate, but the ambition I have was intriguing to him.

“Great, another doctor. And you must study some form of psychology right?” he implies.

I chuckle as I brush the hair behind my ear to look at him as I explain my credentials.

“BA in a social science and a minor in Women's Studies and Gender, just to make it easier on you. Two masters in something to do with policy and a knack for behavior trends across cultures. A PhD in…” I trail off to let him figure it out.

“International Relations. You couldn’t let go of the need to work abroad and help other. You also study the difference in human behaviors and how it can be interpreted and persuaded. It is why you are now living in London, after living in a southern European country, and I’m going to go with Italy” he responds.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Italy was fun. I spent most of the time on the mainland with a friend and would visit their family in Sardinia”.

“He was gay wan’t he?”

“Not that he himself knew.”

The detective laughed. It was the beginning of a friendship, with many late nights, bad coffee and fighting. I lived in the basement of 221 Baker Street, after coming to a bargain price with Mrs. Hudson if I agreed to get rid of the black mold and redo the space for future renters. When I asked her why she was already thinking of future renters, she just smiled and told me Sherlock's door was open and I could just walk in.

Now, a year and a half later, I was in his flat, in my own night gown and robe, working on pot of tea to make a London foggy, one of Sherlocks favorite drinks I could make. I had told him that if he got to work in his pajamas, or just a sheet at times, then he couldn’t expect anything less of me. But his abrupt statement that we were going to a party had me do a double take.

“A party? Are we feeling like clubbing tonight Sherlock?” I tease.

“It is just a bit of field work. But I need you to come with as my date so that I am not bothered by lonely, sad women.”

“Ah yes. All the lonely, sad women will flock to the handsome, cocky detective for comfort and an inquisitive night,” I mock, bringing the tea to him.

“Isn’t that what you did?” He says without looking up.

Offended, I grab the paper from his hands and smack him on the head with it. He flinched, protecting his tea from me.

“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m here for John” I say, tossing the paper into his lap. Sherlocks mouth slightly gapes before he snaps it shut, looking behind me.

“I’m sorry, what did I just walk in on?” John says from the doorway. Sherlock turns red as I walk up to John, pulling my leg up on him, placing my hand on his cheek while giving him a lingering kiss on the other, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock. “Afternoon John,” I say with a flirtatious growl. He didn’t move since my dramatic act, and as I exited the apartment to get ready, I hear John exclaim “I could get used to that kind of welcome”. I laugh as I hear the paper get thrown at the doctor.

Two hours later, and a lot of fighting with a curling wand, I hear a knock at my door. I do a once-over of myself in the mirror. It was a high-end party, requiring a more put together look, and I was determined to look my best. In helping Sherlock and John, I realized that I rarely dressed up-practicality and professionalism is key.

I put my phone into my handbag, and slipped my feet into my black pointed stilettos. One more once-over in the mirror next to the door, and I unlatched the lock. As soon as I opened it, the detective couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. My hair was in loose curls around my face, and the dress, oh the dress, flattered my body in every way. It was a silk green dress, that hugged every curve. It was ruched in the sides, creating a tight draping across my abdomen. The fabric on my bust sat just below the tops of my breasts, and dropped to my off-the-shoulder sleeves. I was wearing a simple emerald necklace with matching earrings, and a ruby ring on my left hand. My legs were well accentuated, and the stilettos did wonders for my posture. Still, I was the same girl in pajamas at this now well suited man's place as I was now.

“You’re giving yourself away Detective,” I flirt, walking by him to climb the stairs to the front of the building. I make extra care to add a little movement as I climb, knowing he would be right behind me and very distracted. It was my favorite game to tease both of the boys, but especially Sherlock. It was always a game, and he loved games. As I exited the building, John was waiting for us outside, also dressed sharply. His eyes widened as I walked towards him.

“In the words of a great detective, ‘Your body betrays you’ John. It’s still me inside this get-up. Now where is the cab?” I ask.

“Umm...uh, there hasn’t been an available one yet...” he forces out.

London was busy on a Saturday night, and it could often be difficult to find a cab. Lucky for us, my dress is pretty reflective, and I was going to use that to my advantage. I stepped off the curb just slightly, jutting out my shoulder blades and putting my weight on one foot to give myself more shape. By the time I had raised my hand, two taxis pulled up. I heard a cough behind me, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson both smirking at me.

“I’m sorry, did you have a better idea?” I shoot at them. I open the door for myself and climb into the cab. The two men clambered in after me.

The party was at a lovely high-rise in the middle of London. It looked to be a penthouse, but one grander than I had ever seen. As the three of us exited the elevator, we looked at each other once more, setting our plan in motion. John was to walk around and mingle, while Sherlock and I were to snoop about the place, looking for context clues. I grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the trays, and Sherlock and I began our promenade. We quickly realized that I was drawing a bit too much attention in my get-up and we would need to look around before people noticed we were gone. Our arms entwined, we strolled past the main crowd into a hallway, casually chatting the weather. The detectives hand was on my waist, holding tightly, as though I might leave his side. It was different than they way he usually grabbed my arm to move me around or out of the way of harm.

We were looking for the bedroom of our hosts place, though, it did not seem there was one here. The penthouse was more of a party pad then a living space, which lends more to our profile of him. We continued to walk, and came across a study. His hand slid off my waist as he entered the room. I stood outside with my drink, while Sherlock took note of every little detail there. As he came out of the room though, I heard footprints coming round the corner. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom next to the study. As I pushed him in, our eyes searched each other for the next move that we hadn’t initially planned. Though we were going as a date, it was never really a date. Until now.

Grabbing the lapels of the detectives suit, I slammed my lips on his, pushing us both backwards onto the sink. Knowing that he was more recognizable. I spun him around so that my back was to the sink and his was to the door. I jumped on to the sink, hiking up my dress a little higher, so that I could hook one leg around his waist. Instinctively, his right hand went to my leg to hold it up, and his left hand was in my hair.

His lips. I had seen them a million times before, studying his face as he rambled about a case. While he was just a colleague and possibly a friend, there were a few times when I would fall asleep thinking about those lips. And here he was, kissing me on a bathroom sink at a party, with enough force to make me melt into it. My hand went to his hair, as he began to trail kisses down my neck, hiding his face in me so that his reflection could not be seen. My other hand was gripping his waist, trying not to slip into the sink itself. My shoe was dangling on my toes as our bodies continued to crash. We heard the door click open, and my eyes opened to see the host and his assistant wide-eyed at us.

“Occupied,” I panted, smiling with a small wave. The two quickly shut the door, their footprints receding down the hallway. As soon as it was quiet, Sherlock froze on my collarbone, neither of us moving for a moment. I removed my hand from his hair, trying to pat it back into place. He stood up, and looked down at me. My dress had ridden up further, and my black lace panties were definitely on display. So was the red in both of our faces. I glanced over his shoulder to look at the door, realizing that there was a lock on it. Sherlock didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on me.

He knew there was a lock. He wanted the situation. He wanted to get caught.

“Lock it” I demanded.

He took a few steps back and turned the button, locking the door. His eyes didn’t leave me. I was still propped up against the sink, both hands propped up behind me. My legs had still been open, and as his eyes raked over my body looked, I grew self-conscious and went to close them. But he stepped towards me, grabbing my lower thigh. I hesitantly opened myself back up for him. His hand moved up my thigh, while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing himself closer to me. I placed a hand on his chest, running it up until it was at the nape of his neck, playing with his soft, black curls. I gently tugged him toward me, and our lips attached once more. This time, it was more more sensual. Taking the time to just allow ourselves to feel one another. As he pulled away, I let out a small gasp as I felt his growing bulge against my clothed core.

He seized the opportunity to kiss me again, letting his tongue wander and explore my mouth, pulling me as close as I could be to him. He pushed himself against me, causing a soft moan to escape, as I involuntarily rolled against him. He smirked against my mouth, moving once more against me. I hissed, feeling myself grow wetter.

Sherlock pulled me off the sink, wrapping both of my legs around him before pinning me against the wall. I was sitting just on top of his cock, and the friction was even more frustrating. I grinded down on him, kissing his neck, while leaving small bites in between. I needed more though. I unwrapped my legs, and he lowered me to the ground. When he placed me down, I kissed him with passion while I started to undo his trousers. He walked backwards to the sink, leaning up against it, as I palmed him through his suit. His low groan made me quiver as I licked a long stripe up his neck to his ear, wear I softly bit the lobe. This drove him crazy.

Pants still undone, he whipped us around so that I was against the sink again. He pulled my dress up enough so that he could hook his fingers in the lace of my panties and pull them down. He lifted me up on to the sink to get them off of me. He worked them past my heels, and placed both of his hands on my thighs, rubbing circles into them with his thumb. His forehead was resting on mine and we were both breathing in sync. I opened my legs for him, as he traced his way between my legs. The violinist in him was showing, and he was going to work out the tension and boredom he had been feeling all day. His fingers came in contact with me, running through my folds. He went from my clit down to my opening, just toying with me. I let out a whimper as he placed his middle finger just barely inside of me. He slowly pushed his digit inside of me, causing a guttural groan to escape. I bucked into his hand, desperate for more. He pumped it casually, as if he had done this to me a million times and knew how I would react. He then slipped a second finger into me, causing me to emit another moan.

“Please Sherlock. No games,” was all I could manage.

He began to pump his fingers in a come-hither motion, curling them to hit my g-spot. I gasped with every movement, keeping as quiet as I could. He was working his way to get me as wet as I could be for him. I was starting to feel the tension in my stomach build when he placed his thumb on my clit and made sharp movements with it. I cried out, gripping his shoulders for support. I was going to need him soon if he wanted to me to finish with his cock inside me. But he kept pumping and rubbing, watching as my face conveyed every emotion he had ever made me feel. My arm wrapped around his neck, as I could barely keep myself up anymore.

“Sherlock, you-you’re gonna..m-make me..c-cum…” I stutter out. I am rocking against his hand, chasing what I can’t stop. This only urges him more, as he quickens his pace. Without warning, I cum all over his finger with a cry. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to work my pussy, until I gasp out “I’m...I’m gonna squirt”. He steps out from between my legs, his fingers not stopping. As he steps to the side, he leans in to my ear and finally says something.

“Show me”.

It was all it took for my orgasm to elongate itself, as I squirted on his hand. I couldn’t stop and was shaking, barely able to keep myself up. I almost crumpled backwards before he caught me. Once again, he was between my legs, his hands on my neck and waist. I reached for his painfully hard cock, pulling it from his pants. I started stroking him, causing his eyes to flutter close. I was still coming down from what he had done with just his fingers, but I needed his dick inside me. I looked up at him, and said something that I knew would only boost his ego, and he would probably use against me later.

“Mr. Holmes, I need you inside me, now”.

His eyes shot open, as I looked back at him with lust-blown eyes. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him. He and his god-complex were completely enamoured with my new take of teasing him. I lined his cock at my entrance, but not before teasing him through my folds. Just that little movement caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin. As I put his tip in my entrance, he searched my eyes once more for the consent he needed. I pushed myself onto him a little, letting him know he could take me. He leaned in, pushing his length all the way into me. I let out a loud gasp, wrapping my arm around his neck once more, my other hand on his back. I was still throbbing from my previous orgasm, and I knew he could feel my warm pulse inside me. He slowly pulled out, and then quickly sheathed himself inside me again. Our pelvises were against each other and his gently movements drove me crazy. I let out a cry of ecstasy, letting my head roll back, exposing my neck. He kissed it gently, and then, lifted me off the counter and back against the wall. All I could do was struggle to remain quiet as he began quick thrusts deep into me, relentlessly hitting my sweet spot. He was open mouthed against my neck, breathing erratically as he continued to hold me up.

“You feel, s-so g-good,” I moaned, urging him to continue. He loved it when I complimented him, he had always been that way. But to be inside me as I told him how much I loved his cock, it was heaven for him. The guttural sounds from his throat proved to me that he felt the same.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna last much longer” he said, as though it would deter me. As he began to remove himself, I grabbed his face to look at me.

“I want you to cum inside, Detective,” I whisper, wrapping my legs tighter around him to prove my point.

His eyes widened searching my face as I was in taking all of him, bouncing on his dick in a penthouse bathroom, loving everything he did. Seeing what he could do to me, looking into my eyes as I stifled my moans, he began to stutter inside of me. I was on the edge too, and when his hot rope of cum shooted inside of me, my own orgasm exploded, milking him of the rest of his cum.

When we had both stilled, frozen with him still inside me, we could hear the party still going and the noise of London below us. He pulled his softening cock from me and as he did, our cum dripped down my thigh. My legs were incredibly weak, as he continued to hold me up. I reached for a hand towel to clean me up, but he beat me to it, wiping up and between my legs, careful not to cause pain from the sensitivity. He picked up my underwear that he had tossed on the ground somewhere, and helped me step back into it. I was still shaky if I bent my legs, but I knew he would hold me up. As we looked at each other, there was something new we both saw. Romance. The sexual chemistry that had been there was a response to the catalyst of romance.

Before we could discuss the aftermath of our actions though, there was a loud banging on the door. Smoothing out my dress just past the door, Sherlock opened it to find John, arms crossed, waiting outside.

“Are you shitting me Sherlock? You look like you just took a hit of something. Did you seriously lose Y/N at this party because you were trying to get hi…”

The door widened to reveal me, just behind Sherlock, makeup slightly down my fae, and both of our hair tousled. I smiled at John, knowing it wasn’t what he had expected. His jaw dropped, “Tha..you were,,,um...has this been long or...?” Dr. Watson stuttered.

“No John, that was the first time and it won’t be the last” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me past him.

“Don’t be too jealous John,” I said with a wink.

John didn’t know what to say except, “Are we done here?”

Sherlock and I walked arm in arm down the hallway, casting back a look at John as if to say “What do you think?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was my first oneshot and was it trash? Yeah, maybe. So if you know me, no you don’t :)

Leave suggestions if you’d like, I’m writing smut I can’t find.

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #sherlock bbc #benedict cumberbatch #cumberbitches

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

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In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter three rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter arrived at the Avengers tower with a little pep in his step. His new neighbor was on his mind and he couldn’t get her off. He knew it was a long shot, after all you’d only had one conversation, but he felt like there was a connection between you. You were awkward, he was awkward. What more does a relationship need?

Tony was quick to notice the change in Peters mood. A dreamy smile crept across his face every now and then while Tony was trying to explain something about his nanotechnology.

“Alright Underoos, whats on your mind? A girl? Boy? That gorgeous Aunt of yours? Oh wait no, that’s what’s on my mind.” Tony smirked, making a blush paint Peters cheeks.

“Nothing sir. Sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Peter answered quickly. Tony scanned Peter up and down skeptically.

“So its a girl. Alright. Who is she?” Tony asked, motioning for Peter to sit down with him.

“This girl moved in across the hall from me about a week ago. I’d see her on the stairs sometimes, or in the lobby. She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark. I mean, really beautiful. And I know girls are a lot more than their appearance, trust me, but I can never look away. It’s like God made a perfect batch of cookie dough, and then made a perfect cookie cutter, and then hand made her just for me. There’s just, there’s something about her. I feel like I’ve always known her, and I don’t even know her yet. She knocked on my door this morning and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her through the peephole. I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know she lived across the hall.” Peter started to explain. A twinge of embarrassment struck him at the memory of what he said to you.

“Oh God. You said something stupid, didn’t you?” Tony inquired, noticing the look of embarrassment on Peters face as he recalled their conversation. Tony leaned on his hands like a child, this stuff exciting him more than anything.

“I insulted her dead father and called him smelly.” Peter admitted, and Tony laughed.

“But she found it funny and agreed with me.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Wow. Normally I’d say there’s no coming back from that, but she seems like a keeper. So, are you gonna throw on your Spidey suit and take her for a ride around the city? Works with all the ladies.” Tony wiggled eyebrows, but Peter shook his head.

“No. Spider-Man isn’t a party trick or some tactic to pick up girls. Plus, I want her to like me for me. That’s why I invited her over for dinner tonight.” Peter answered. Tony looked down at his hands, not wanting Peter to see how proud he was. He couldn’t let Peter get too cocky.

“That was a test and you passed.” To y quipped. “Alright, spider child, you have my blessing. But no funny business tonight. If I find out I’m gonna have to design nanotech baby clothes, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Peter blushed at the mere thought of what Tony was implying and spent the rest of his time at the tower going over missions to get you off his mind.

You arrived at Peters at 6:07. You were done getting ready at 5:45, and sat in the living room on your phone until you were slightly late. You didn’t want to be early, like some loser. Or even worse, on time. You had to be fashionably, but not rudely, late.

You knocked on Peters door at 6:07 and waited. The door swung open instantly, as if he’d be waiting right behind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He stated. “I’ll let you decide if I was waiting at the door for you or if I’m just really fast. “

He had successfully broken the ice, and you gave kudos to him for trying.

You, on the other hand, were drawing a blank. You had no idea what to say and you were a reporter for crying out loud. You didn’t get tripped up on my words, but something about Peter Parker and that damn collared shirt rendered you unable to formulate a thought. All you could do was stand there and smile at him. You felt like you were standing weirdly and all the sudden had no idea where to put your hands. Do you leave them at your sides? That felt too stiff and soldier-like. But where else would they go? You were pretty sure every brain cell had left your body at that point, leaving you defenseless.

“You look nice.” Peter blurted, interrupting the awkward silence that had settled between you. Even he seemed surprised by his statement. You looked down and shrugged. You looked as nice as a lazy person who didn’t fully unpack their clothes could look. You had on a casual grey dress that was made of some sort of t-shirt material, and your hair was in a loose bun with a few curls framing your face. Peter took in your appearance with what looked like approval. Then you noticed Peters gaze falling to your feet.

“Converse with a dress.” He noted. “Bold move.”

You felt your personality re-enter your body, finally, and nodded.

“Oh yeah. You know me. Quirky and cool and not like other girls.” You joked as you clicked your heels together. “You look nice too. Very…Freddie Benson.”

Freddie Benson? Who the hell makes an ICarly reference to compliment someone? This night was going downhill fast and you regretted ever knocking on his door.

“Dude. You’re tanking.” Venom said in your ear, you had to agree. This couldn’t be going worse.

But lo and behold, Peters beautiful laugh filled your ears once again.

“That’s what I was going for!” He cheered. “My friend Ned always teases me for wearing sweaters and button downs but he just doesn’t have the vision.”

“Come in.” He suddenly stepped aside and gestured inward. “Dinners almost ready.”

Peters apartment looked just like yours, but much more homey. You saw his baby pictures on the wall, coupled with pictures of him and his parents through the years. You noticed a framed picture of a different couple on the coffee table. They resembled Peter but you didn’t see them in any photos with him past the age of around 7. There was a candle next to the frame, as well as a ceramic cross. You quickly looked away, not wanting to overstep.

“You must be Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” You heard a woman’s voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a woman in high pants and a yellow tank top, recognized her from the pictures with Peter.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Parker.” You said politely and shook her hand.

“Please.” She shook your hand. “Call me May.”

“May.” You repeated with a smile.

You turned around and saw Peter pulling out a chair for you, so you sat down while May finished preparing dinner. You offered to help, being the polite ass bitch that you were, but May insisted that you were the guest. A plate of “meatloaf” was soon placed in front of you and Peter. The term “meatloaf” is used very loosely. It looked more like an old shriveled brain. Peter made eye contact with you and winked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He whispered. He glanced at May, who was busy pouring the drinks, before leaning in closer and whispering, “it’s way worse.”

You playfully kicked Peter under the table and he giggled, quickly masking the sound with a drink of water.

“So, Y/N, where do you go to school?” May started the conversation. You took a bite of meatloaf, nearly died, and swallowed before answering.

“I’m actually taking a gap year before I start my junior year at Berkeley.” You told her. “And I work part time as a reporter.”

“That’s a very good school.” She complimented. “And I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen your show on YouTube.”

“I haven’t.” Peter realized. “What’s it called?”

“The L/n Report.” You answered. “I started it my freshman year and it just kinda took off.”

“Oh. I’ve read some of yoru articles, but I haven’t seen the show.” Peter realized. “I can’t believe you do that. That’s really cool. You’re really cool.”

“Thank you.” You winked at him, not used to being praised for your work.

“Peter told me about your father.” May changed the subject. “I’m so sorry to hear that he passed. He left the apartment to you?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And it’s all right. We were estranged anyway.”

“It must be so different living alone in a city.” May sighed. “Did you dorm while at Berkeley?”

“No, I lived with my boyfriend.” You shook your head. Peter began choking on his water at the mention of a boyfriend and May shot him a look.

“Peter. Manners.” She said sternly.

“Boyfriend?” Was all he managed to say between coughs and sputters.

Oh great. Time for this conversation.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected. “I got him demoted to traffic duty for two weeks and he wasn’t too happy about it.”

“He broke up with you over that?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s gotta be the dumbest reason for a breakup I’ve ever heard.”

“May I ask how you got him demoted?” May wondered.

“Well, I’m an investigative reporter, and my ex, Andy, is a cop.” You began. “I looked at some classified files on his computer and used them against someone.”

“Carlton Drake, right?” She realized the story sounded familiar. “I read about that. Your exposé about him was everywhere.”

“Didn’t he die in his own rocket?” Peter asked you, fully invested in the story.

“Yea. I was there. Me and…my friend.” You caught yourself before almost mentioning Venom.

“Gosh I read that story forever ago.” May recalled. “It was all over the news here. I remember Peter ranting to me that this girl was straight out of high school and already taking down shady guys in San Francisco. You were obsessed with the article, remember Peter? I’m pretty sure you hung it up.”

Peter, you guessed it, turned bright red.

“I just thought you were cool. You know, taking down bad guys and all at such a young age. It really inspired me.” Peter explained. He suddenly looked panicked, like he said too much, and you wondered what it inspired him to do.

“Thank you Peter.” You smiled fondly. “How old are you anyway?”

“19. I’ll be 20 on August 10th.” He said proudly. “What about you?”

“He’s legal.” Venom whispered in your ear. You couldn’t even be mad at her, you were thinking the same thing.

“I’m 20.” You told him, and smile crept across his face.

“And this boyfriend, where is he now?” May asked. May wasn’t blind to what was happening between her nephew and this new neighbor and knew that’s what Peter was dying to ask.

“I would very much also like to know that.” Peter said, almost robotically. He leaned in closer and stared at you while he awaited the answer.

“He’s engaged, actually.” You said between sips of water, making Peter sigh in relief. “To a friend of mine. They’re getting married this summer.”

It was the first time you said those words out loud. You didn’t feel sad, like you thought you would. You didn’t really know how you felt. The smile that broke out on Peters face gave a clear indication on how he felt, though.

“That’s great. I mean, not great great. Great for him, I mean. It’s always good to move on. Wether it be with an old friend or a brand new one. Maybe it’s with someone you just met. You never know. Things just happen between the most random of people. Could be a stranger. Or, or, hear me out, it could be less of a stranger. Like a barista, or a mailman or a…a neighbor.” Peter stumbled over his words, the last part coming out very quietly. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out though. Between you and him, I mean. ”

“Thanks.” You shrugged. “It was tough at first but, I’m okay now. He wasn’t the one.”

“When you do find the one, you’ll know. I knew almost immediately that Ben was the one. I saw him and my heart said “that’s the one you’ve been looking for” and I believed it.” May sighed wistfully. You could see her eyes glistening behind her glasses and did something rather bold. You put your hand on top of hers and squeezed. She gave off this loving motherly vibe that you had only seen in movies but never felt for yourself. May gave you the warmest smile and squeezed your hand back.

“That’s lovely May. Although, I always thought when you met the one, your heart wouldn’t say that it’s been looking for that person. I always thought it would say ‘welcome home’, or something like that. You know? Like, you’ve always known them. I don’t know though. Maybe I’ve just seen The Princess Bride one too many times.” You shrugged.

“Ah. That’s a classic in this household.” May recalled. “Peter would refuse to go to bed without watching it.”

“Because it’s a cinematic masterpiece.” Peter sassed. “You’re trying to embarrass me by pointing out that even as a child I had impeccable taste? Oh please.”

You laughed at his remark, making May noticed the smile that broke out on Peters face when he succeeded in making their new neighbor laugh.

May looked at you for a while with a content smile on her face before saying, “Yeah. I suppose you do have good taste.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #peter parker imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader

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lifeofkaze · 2 years

Text

Twenty-Two

Happy Birthday to my favourite wild-child of them all! You're the most frustrating, headstrong and yet amazing of my children in how you refuse to let me write the story I want for you - you have your own story to tell.

Don't ever change, Reva, but for God's sake... just let me know what you want every now and again, yeah?

The idea for this fic as well as the amazing edit are by @whatwouldvalerydo, who kindly let me write her crack thought into existence 💛

OCs featured or mentioned belong to:

@whatwouldvalerydo (Scarlett Tempest)

@the-al-chemist (Zadie Taylor-Allen, Rory McTavish, Saffron Summers, Dante Briarwood)

@kc-and-co (Sage Carridan, Nova Mae)

@thatravenpuffwitch (Rylie Hopper-Lee)

@that-scouse-wizard (Robin Willows, Nick Willows)

Warning: mentions and consumption of alcohol, implied drug abuse (weed)

Even for late March it was an unusually cold night in Edinburgh and Reva shivered as she drew her shoulders up against the cold drizzle. She buried her hands deeper in the pockets of her coat and craned her neck trying to see the end of the queue. But from what she could tell, they were as far away from the entrance to the club than they had been ten minutes ago.

“By that rate we’re going to still be here by sunrise,” she muttered, bouncing up and down the balls of her feet to keep warm. “What’s taking them so long?”

“No idea, but they won’t hurry up for you complaining into my ear,” said Reva’s brother Dylan. He had his arm around his girlfriend Dana, who Reva shared a sympathetic look with. Just like herself, Dana was only wearing a dress and tights, and seemed to be just as cold as the rest of them.

“And besides, it was you who insisted on coming here,” Dylan went on, not noticing or not caring about his sister and his girlfriend rolling their eyes. “We could have just stayed at Dante’s bar, have some more drinks there and be nice and warm all around.”

“Maybe, but you only turn twenty-two once,” Reva said. “Stop being a bore.”

“You turned twenty-two three days ago.”

“And how am I supposed to celebrate with all my friends during the week, Mr Look-at-me-I-know-it-all?”

Dylan shared a look with his friend Dante, who was the owner of the bar where they had all met for a warm up, but Dante only shrugged. He knew better than to get involved with Dylan’s and Reva’s bickering.

“What did you expect?” Rory McTavish chimed in from behind Reva. He clearly had no problem with getting involved at all. “This is one of the most popular spots in Edinburgh. Obviously there was going to be a queue.”

“Didn’t stop the others from going in without us,” Reva muttered.

“Maybe we could talk to the bouncers,” Rory said and craned his head like Reva had done.

The girl next to him made a sceptical noise. “I doubt the Muggle bouncers will give us preferred access only because you and Reva happen to have a name in Quidditch. But do go ahead and try.”

Rory laughed softly and gave Rylie a kiss on the cheek. “No, but I can’t have you ladies freezing out here.”

“They’re not the only ones being cold,” Dylan pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m quite cold myself. Not that you would know, Dylan. You’re too furry to freeze.”

Dylan’s brows drew into a scowl but before he had a chance to answer, both boys received an elbow to their sides from their girlfriends and fell quiet. Reva saw Dana biting her lower lip in an attempt not to laugh, however.

A smirk on her own lips, she turned her attention to the non-progression of the queue again. As the banter with her friends passed, the familiar, heavy feeling which had been bothering her for the past couple of days returned to her chest.

Reva had felt on edge for a while now, but lately, the feeling of running against walls in her attempt to make a name for herself among the Montrose Magpies - a name that wasn’t immediately connected to her parents’ past accomplishments - had steadily increased. All she had wanted from tonight was a carefree evening with her friends, and not needing to stand in the cold night air, shivering in her short dress and wondering if this was where she really was supposed to be.

Next to her, her best friend Zadie, who had come over from New York especially for the occasion, nudged Reva into the side.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

Reva sighed and tore her eyes away from the flashing sign above the entrance. “Yes,” she said, “I just want to get inside and meet everyone, that’s all.”

She could tell from the look on Zadie’s face that she knew Reva was lying, but thankfully she chose not to comment on it. Instead, she gave Reva’s arm a squeeze and left her alone. Reva was grateful for it; like so often these days, she realised how much she had missed Zadie being by her side.

It took them another fifteen minutes, but eventually, Reva and her friends had found their way inside the club. As soon as they walked down the stairs leading to the dance floor, Reva’s contemplative mood subsided. The room was heaving with people, colourful lights were flashing in time with the beat and Reva could feel the reverberations of the base thrumming through her body. She took a deep breath and a confident smile formed on her face; this was what she had been looking for.

They quickly found the rest of their friends seated on comfortable looking leather sofas around a low table next to the bar, and Reva’s smile widened with every one of them she greeted. Before long she found herself chatting and laughing with each and every one of them, catching up with those she hadn’t seen in a while and trading gossip with those she saw regularly. Reva felt more at ease than she had done in weeks and she leaned back into her seat with a content smile.

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” her friend Sage Carridan said and sat down next to her. “It’s been a while, I can imagine.”

“Meaning?” Reva said and raised her eyebrows.

“I read the latest articles in The Daily Prophet on the Magpies’ winning streak,” Sage explained.

“I’m not surprised you have.” A defeated expression crossed Reva’s face. The general tone of the articles was positive, but she had been on a few unsuccessful dates with the guy who’d written them, and from how he talked about her, Reva could tell he wasn’t as over her as she was over him. There wasn’t a single day where she didn’t find herself being compared to her mother’s scoring record or her father’s technique and frankly, she was sick of it.

Sage seemed to sense Reva’s shift in mood because she made a sympathetic face and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I want you to know that this amateur has no idea about Quidditch. What he’s writing is far-fetched, to say the least. You’re a fantastic player in your own right, and I’ve never seen a statistic more inaccurate than the ones he’s making up.”

“My godfather said the same,” Reva muttered. She should feel glad about Sage’s encouragement, but all she felt was tired.

Sage seemed to want to add something but was interrupted when Nova Mae slumped into the seat on Reva’s other side.

“Why that face?” she asked cheerfully, looking between Reva and Sage. “Is Sage boring you with rules and numbers again?”

Sage rolled her eyes. “They’re not boring, Nova.”

“Oh yes, they are.”

Reva had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling. Nova’s and Sage’s friendly banter was infamous and their bickering was already brightening her mood considerably.

“I won’t allow you to be sad today. I know something to cheer you up,” Nova declared. From out of nowhere she produced a clear plastic bag containing what looked like brownies.

A sly grin appeared on Reva’s face but when she reached for the bag, it was snatched away by a stern looking Sage.

“You’re not going to be giving Reva edibles while I’m watching,” she hissed at Nova.

Nova shrugged and shoved a piece of brownie into her mouth. “You’re free to go any time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Shame.”

“That’s irresponsible, Nova!”

“They’re brownies. Nothing else, I swear.”

“As if.”

“Can you just stop it?” Reva sighed and looked between the two unhappily, her good mood gone as fast as it had come. She usually had fun watching Nova and Sage bicker, but tonight, it was making her restless. “All I want is to have some fun.”

“Right you are,” came the voice of Scarlett Tempest from behind them. She had gone to get new drinks and was now looking at Nova and Sage warningly. “The girl’s twenty-two and here you are talking over her head like she isn’t here.” She took one of the small shot glasses off her tray she was carrying and handed it to Reva. “She wants to have fun and that is what she’s going to have. Screw the public, screw the press, and screw the guys - that one writing shit about you in particular.”

She raised a glass of her own to Reva and downed it one go. Reva did the same and shuddered as the tequila burned its way down her throat. She decided to leave Sage and Nova to themselves and follow Scarlett and her tray instead.

Having had another round of shots with Robin, Zadie and Victoire, there was nothing keeping the girls off the dancefloor anymore. Reva took her turn dancing first with Robin, then Dana and eventually Rory for a while. She would have loved to dance with Zadie as well, but like always when music was playing, Zadie was in a world of her own; she was twisting and twirling across the dancefloor like nothing Reva had seen before and there were more than a few people staring at her admiringly, even though Zadie never noticed.

After a few more songs, everyone but Zadie and Reva had left the dancefloor again. The crowd had gotten thicker and soon a wall of people was separating them. Reva stopped and stepped to the edge of the dancefloor, letting her eyes wander over her group of friends back at their table.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves; Rylie was sitting on Rory’s lap, laughing as he said something into her ear; Nova and Sage were still bickering but seemed to be having fun doing it; Victoire and Robin were clearing up the last of the shots, while Dylan and Robin’s twin brother Nick were quietly suffering their fate with a bottle of beer each. They were listening to Dante, who was probably explaining to them why the drinks in this club were awful and what he would do differently. A little to the side, Dana and her friend Saffron were dancing with each other; Saffron was staring at the lights above them and had her hands up in the air, waving them from side to side in tune with her body, looking a little like seaweed underwater.

Reva made a move to go back to them but hesitated; everyone was having a good time and neither did she want to enter a conversation, nor did she want to drink any more shots with Robin and Victoire. All of her friends were fine and Reva felt like she would disturb them, so she turned around and returned to the dancefloor.

She had lost sight of Zadie, so she danced on her own for a little while. It wasn’t long before she was approached by a guy around her age who asked her to dance with him. Reva didn’t see a reason not to, but when he got closer and closer and bowed his head to kiss her, she quickly took a step back. She wanted to turn away and return to her friends but the guy grabbed her by the hand and held her back.

“What’s the matter all of a sudden? You weren’t so shy a minute ago.”

Reva flashed her eyes at him. “Let go, right now.”

“Or what?”

From across the room, Reva’s situation hadn’t gone unnoticed. But before either Rory, Dylan or Sage had any chance to come to Reva’s help, Scarlett had already slammed down her drink and came pushing through the crowd. When she reached Reva, she gave her suitor a look that would have made Reva’s blood freeze if it had been directed at her.

“Hands off her,” she snapped and the guy looked her up and down derisively. He clearly wasn’t impressed by what he was seeing.

“What do you even want?” he scoffed.

“Something you can’t have,” Scarlett said wryly. She freed Reva’s wrist from his hand, took her face into her hands and pressed a kiss to her lips that tasted of tequila, salt and lemon.

Reva stiffened for a second when their lips met, but when the jaw of the guy who had been harassing her dropped, she wrapped her arms around Scarlett’s neck and returned the kiss.

Out of the corner of her eye, Reva saw the guy mutter something to himself and shake his head. With a dismissive gesture he pushed past them and had vanished into the crowd a moment later.

Scarlett let go of her and her hazel eyes were sparkling mischievously. There was a smug grin on her face that made Reva giggle.

“What in Godric’s name was that about?” she wanted to know as Scarlett linked arms with her and led her back towards their friends.

“Someone needed to put that bloke in his proper place,” Scarlett replied and handed Reva a shot. “I’ve said it before - screw the guys. This evening’s about you, and I wasn’t going to let a lowlife like him ruin it for you.”

Reva took the glass off her and Scarlett raised her own. “Here’s to you, birthday girl.”

“No,” Reva shook her head as she clinked glasses with Scarlett and the rest of her friends, who had all come to celebrate with her. “Here’s to all of us.”

#hpma #magic awakened #reva amari #scarlett tempest #dylan amari #danielle parkin #sage carridan #nova mae #zadie taylor allen #saffron summers #rory mctavish #dante briarwood #rylie hopper lee #robin willows #nick willows #oc birthday

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

after hours || kuroo tetsurou

➵ a late night study session might just end with kuroo having a heart attack over how stupidly cute you are.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: f!reader, i guess it’s implied she’s short?, kuroo’s Dumb, i can’t stop thinking about the in-between someone get my own story out of my head please

a/n: hi i wrote this on a whim and for some reason it’s 3k i’m gonna yartz,,, kuroo brainrot let’s go! but thank you ren for beta’ing it yet again :(

the in-between m.list

“But I’m tired,” you whine, plopping your face cheek-first onto your textbook.

“We’re all tired,” Kuroo goads, shaking his head. “Come on. The more we do now, the less we have to worry about later.”

“I know,” you whine. “You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

“I wouldn’t have to remind you if you just did your work,” he grins. “We know for a fact that leaving things to the last minute makes you really stressed.”

“Maybe I work best under pressure,” you mumble. “Ever considered that?”

“I have,” he smiles. “Now you tell me: is it worth the nervous breakdown?”

“You’re cruel and I hate you.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you mutter.

“I think someone’s trying to procrastinate,” he chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

“It’s late,” you groan. “I’m tired.”

“You’ve made that very clear,” he grins.

You lift your head off the textbook, glare-pouting at him. Your attempts to look intimidating rarely succeed, and this is no exception.

Kuroo can’t hold back his fond smile.

You look exhausted.

Your eyes are a little blearier than usual, shot through with red. Your hair’s a bit of a mess – not that you’ve really made an effort with it anyway – and you’ve got that dull pallor that seems to befall everyone deficient of adequate sleep.

Maybe ten forty-six in the evening was a bit late to be starting homework. And unfortunately for you, the focus for this evening is maths and chemistry.

Of course, Kuroo’s adamant that he tried to get started earlier.

(He didn’t think that the two of you would end up wasting so much of the afternoon just watching Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, but when he’d checked the time, he’d tried to move onto studying.

You, on the other hand, had other ideas.

“Just one more episode.”

“No,” he shook his head. “We’ve got work to do.”

“But we can’t stop here,” you whined. “I wanna know what happens.”

“We’ve got to study,” he’d replied, firm and strict and resolute.

But when you’d grabbed his arm and pouted up at him, saying “Please, Tetsu?”, his resolve toppled in on itself like a poorly constructed engineering assignment made of straws.)

“Hey,” he sighs, patting you on the back. “Let’s just try to get this chapter done tonight, okay? That’s all.”

“Okay,” you mumble.

He knows it’s a bit unfair; the chapter in question is a rather long one, with far more activities in it than the average. But he trusts you to understand what needs to be done – he wouldn’t be putting you through this if it wasn’t so relevant.

He wants you to succeed. He really does. And you both know just how hard he’s been working to help you get to where you need to be.

Time and time again, you apologise for taking up so much of his time, for asking so much of him. He always smiles, saying that it’s actually good practice for him, too – and, of course, you’re managing the volleyball team.

He insists it’s a two-way street.

Not that it matters. He knows that he’d still do this for you, even if he gets nothing out of it.

He finds it too hard to say no to you, after all.

Kuroo jumps as a solid three-rap knock rattles his door.

“Are you still up, Tetsu dear?” His grandmother’s voice sounds far too amused for his liking.

“Uh, yeah,” he swallows, getting out of his chair and opening the door.

His grandmother stands in front of him, dressed in her purple silk pyjamas.

(They’re a recent birthday present that you’d chipped in a bit of money for, even though Kuroo had told you it was fine – you didn’t need to.

You’d just smiled and told him that you wanted to say a little thank you for how kind she’d been to you.

He remembers that his heart skipped a little at your smile.)

“Goodness, Tetsu, I keep forgetting just how tall you are,” his grandmother chuckles, craning her neck to get a good look at his face.

“Maybe you’re just shrinking,” Kuroo grins.

“Don’t even joke about that, my boy,” she laughs, shaking her head. “That’s a very real possibility at my age.”

She pokes her head through the doorway, catching sight of you slouched in your chair.

“You look exhausted, dear,” she smiles, tilting her head at you.

“I am,” you whine, stretching your arms over the desk. “Your grandson is a tyrant.”

“Perhaps you and Kenma should stage a coup,” she suggests, eyes twinkling. “Dethrone this despot king and free yourselves from his incessant nagging.”

“I don’t nag!”

“Oh, is that so?” her smile widens. “‘Oh, don’t forget to drink this whole bottle, Obaa-chan. It’s important to keep your fluids up – especially at your age,’” she coos, dropping her voice an octave or so in her best attempt to replicate Kuroo’s tone. “‘Oh, Obaa-chan, come take a walk with me! You’ve been sitting in front of the TV too long. Let’s get those old bones moving.’”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kuroo grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “we get the picture.”

“‘Obaa-chan! You shouldn’t be up this late! You don’t wanna wear yourself out!’” She continues, cracking a grin.

“Okay, okay!” Kuroo grouches, a sour look on his face. “Point taken!”

“I’m just teasing,” she grins. “Goodnight, Tetsu. And goodnight, dear! Don’t let him boss you around!”

“Yes ma’am!” You bark cheerfully.

She chuckles, shaking her head. But she says nothing more, ambling out the door.

Kuroo sighs.

If anything, he’s just glad she didn’t poke fun at him for having a girl in his room. Though he’s well-aware he should be grateful for the fact that he's trusted enough to not have his family snooping on him every five minutes.

Besides, being alone together in a room doesn’t mean anything. Even if…

He swallows roughly, forcing his mind to go blank.

No space for unsavoury thoughts here. None at all.

He shuts the door with a firm slam, turning back to you with his best poker face.

“So,” he hums, ambling back over to you and glancing at the textbook laid out on the desk. “What do you want to focus on?”

“Well, I think it’s time for us to talk about Pride’s true identity—”

Kuroo tsks, shaking his head. “We’ve had enough Brotherhood for one evening.”

You whine, slouching back in your chair. “Just one more episode?”

“No,” he laughs. “If we keep putting this off, we’re just going to have more to stress about later.”

“Fine,” you sigh, sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m starting to think hiring you on as manager was a mistake,” he grins.

“Excuse me?” You gasp, affronted.

“You’re supposed to be responsible,” he chuckles. “You know – able to make good choices and all that.”

“I do make good choices,” you glare at him. “I just hate any and everything to do with maths.”

Kuroo snorts. To be fair, he’s had the sneaking suspicion that you might be much better at chemistry if it didn’t involve so much mathematics.

“Besides,” you huff, crossing your arms, “the first years would riot.”

“You mean Lev would riot.”

“I’m sure Inuoka would stick up for me,” you say. “And you don’t want to make Shibayama sad, do you?”

“I didn’t say anything about kicking you out,” Kuroo grins, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I know,” you hum. “Just making sure you’re aware.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes playfully, flicking your forehead. “Whatever.”

The two of you settle down after that, returning to your blasted enemy.

You do fairly well, all things considered. Your focus is a bit off, but you make a good effort. And, like always, you manage to understand Kuroo’s layman explanations of things.

Of course, the two of you can’t help yourself – your study is punctuated by straying conversations that last a little longer than they should (Kuroo’s a big believer in the fifteen-five-fifteen study method, but sometimes there’s simply too much to say; a mere five minutes doesn’t cover it). Sometimes you simply demand to see Inu-chan, not budging until you’d given the Akita a good pat.

But tonight, even Kuroo tires quickly. He figures it’s probably because you started so late; something he promises himself he’ll never let happen again. Although, he’s not willing to bet money on it.

“Alright, I’m gonna go get a drink,” he sighs, stretching his arms above his head as he stands up. His interlaced fingers almost brush the ceiling. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” you sigh, putting your pencil down.

You’ve got that look on your face. The one you get when you’re faced with a particularly confusing equation or a concept you need a bit of time to wrap your head around. Kuroo knows it well; it’s usually soon followed by a quiet confession of worry and doubt.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand and ruffling your hair gently. “You’re doing better than you think you are.”

He wishes he could do more for you, wishes he could kick those awful feelings out of your brain. But there’s not much more he can do than this.

You look up at him with wide eyes. Your features look so gentle in the light of his desk lamp, the shadows soft and diffused. You look fond.

Kuroo tries to ignore it.

“You think so?” You pout.

“Would I lie?” He chuckles.

You peer at him closely for a moment, leaning close.

Too close.

Close enough for him to make out the intricacies of your eye colour. Close enough that he’s sure you can feel just how hot his face has become. Close enough for his mind to wander to a place it really shouldn’t.

He stands up sharply before he’s even processed what’s going on.

“I’m, uh…” He clears his throat roughly, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m gonna go get some water.”

“Okay!” You nod, smiling sweetly at him.

He doesn’t let himself linger, rushing off to the kitchen and pouring himself a tall glass of water.

He gulps the whole thing down at breakneck speed. His punishment for such hastiness is a hiccup that lurches his whole chest. Well, at least it shifted whatever weird feeling was there before.

What time is it?

He turns to the clock on the kitchen wall.

His eyes blow wide.

Twelve thirty-six. Oh, shit. He ponders, for a moment, if the clock is a few hours fast.

With a little nugget of guilt in his chest, he rushes back upstairs to his bedroom.

He opens the door slowly, not wanting to disturb the house. He slips through just as quietly, turning to say something to you.

You're lying on the desk again. But this time, your head is laid on crossed arms, your back rising and falling gently with each breath.

Kuroo’s heart feels like it might damn well shatter.

His first instinct is to pick you up and put you on his bed.

His first coherent thought is ‘what the fuck, dude?’.

He slinks towards you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. He flushes at the contact.

What are you, twelve? He chastises himself. You’ve touched each other plenty of times before.

He immediately regrets that phrasing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, shaking your shoulder slightly. “Wake up.”

You’re motionless.

“Hey,” Kuroo whines.

“Hm?” You croak, stirring a little.

Kuroo draws back.

You lift your head and blink at him through bleary eyes.

Holy shit, he thinks. Holy fucking shit.

“It’s past midnight,” he says, ruffling your hair on instinct. Why he made the effort to yet again make physical contact with you, he doesn’t know. It’s a terrible idea, really.

“Ew,” you frown. “No.”

Kuroo shoves both his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. There’s no risk of him doing something stupid if he does that, right?

You’re staring at your phone, your eyebrows drawn together and your lips pursed.

He knows that look.

It’s the one you always pull when he (reluctantly) calls an end to whatever you’re doing before walking you home in the evening. And he doesn’t miss how you stick a little closer to him when it’s dark, or how you always seem to glance over your shoulder at each and every peculiar sound. And he certainly doesn’t miss how you ask him to text you to let you know he’s gotten home safe.

You don’t need to tell him that you don’t want to walk all that way in the dark.

“Do you just want to stay here tonight?” He asks. He loathes himself for the weird fuzziness that churns in his gut.

You pout at him. He’s seen that face enough times to know that it means ‘please.’

“Wait here,” he smiles.

He hurries to the laundry area, rifling through his grandmother’s pile of clean clothing. There’s no way he’s going to let you sleep in your school uniform; it can’t be comfortable, and the fabric doesn’t seem breathable.

He goes through the pile once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing. There’s nothing he can lend you for the evening.

“Shit,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Surely there must be—

Oh no. Oh no.

He catches sight of a plain black shirt sitting atop his pile of clean clothes. His face suddenly feels very, very hot.

It’s fine, he thinks. It’s not a big deal. My heart is not racing at the thought of her wearing one of my clothes. It’s not.

He grabs the shirt with a certain boyish carelessness, as if to prove to himself that he’s not losing his mind.

Sure, the blurry image of you wearing one of his shirts keeps trying to barge its way to the forefront of his mind, but it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s just a teenage boy thing.

He stalks back to his room with the whisper of a scowl on his face. Man, he needs to go to sleep.

As he opens the door, he catches sight of you mid-stretch. Your face is screwed up like a cat’s, nose scrunched up and eyes screwed shut.

But you’re cute. How is that cute? Why is that expression so endearing?

I’m delirious, he surmises. Probably because it’s so late.

He holds the shirt out to you with a stiff arm. “Here.”

Would you find it weird, him giving you one of his own shirts to sleep in? Would you think he’s being creepy?

You just nod as you take it from him, holding it to your chest with two hands like it’s a blanket.

Ah. So he’s overthinking it. Like an idiot.

“Did you let your family know?” He asks, trying to distract himself from his own fraying thoughts.

You nod. “I called them.”

“And they’re… fine with it?” His eyes widen slightly. Their daughter, staying over a night at a boy’s house…

“They were more angry at me for waking them up,” you pout. “But they didn’t have any problems with it.”

Kuroo’s heart swells. He’s trusted – your parents don’t mind this little arrangement. He’s not quite sure why he’s so proud, but he lets himself bask in it.

“Hey, Tetsu?”

“Hm?”

“Could I please have some water?” You mumble, rubbing one of your eyes with your knuckles.

He dashes out of the room a little quicker than he usually would – almost like his body had moved on instinct to fulfil your request.

By the time he gets back to his room, you’ve finished changing.

Kuroo’s certain he’s going to explode.

His shirt is so big on you – it’s already a bit roomy on him – grazing your lower thighs and giving him the overwhelming desire to wrap his arms around you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your cheeks puffed out a little, your hair all messy and unkempt. You look so sleepy, so cute, so—

He thrusts the glass of water towards you, cringing as the liquid sloshes dangerously close to the lip of the cup.

“Thank you,” you smile, your face lighting up as you take it from you.

Kuroo doesn’t fail to notice how your fingers brush against his as you do so.

God, he really needs to get some sleep.

“You stay in here,” he swallows, gesturing to his room.

You blink at him for a moment before realising what he means. “Wait, really?”

He nods. “I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

“No—” You’re pouting at him, misplaced guilt shining in your eyes.

“It’s fine,” Kuroo grins, ruffling your hair on reflex. He swears he zaps his fingers. “Now, you get some sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble, glare-pouting at him. “But you’ll… you’ll pay for this.”

“Will I now?” His grin broadens.

“I will,” you nod, comically resolute. “Wait, no—no, you will.”

Kuroo laughs, ruffling your hair again and reaching to—

Woah. Woah.

Where’d this sudden urge to kiss you on the forehead come from? That’s… weird.

He draws his hand back quickly. He can’t risk doing anything stupid.

“Now sleep,” he tuts, pointing you to the bed. “But don’t forget to drink your water.”

“I know,” you huff, turning around and scuttling towards the bed.

Kuroo turns around sharply, making a beeline for the door. If seeing you in his shirt was enough to make his brain go haywire, then seeing you in his bed…

He’s pretty sure he throws you a ‘good night’ before pulling the door to his room firmly shut, but he can’t be certain. He’s too busy taking a deep breath, trying to filter all the unsavoury and alarming thoughts out of his brain.

You’re his friend. He’s not supposed to want to kiss you on the forehead, to hold you in his arms. Hell, you’d probably think it was weird enough that he finds you so damn cute. And God, the thought of making you uncomfortable…

The guilt roots itself deep as he grabs himself some blankets and pillows from the laundry cupboard, dragging himself towards the couch.

He throws himself onto it face first, trying to ignore the burn running through his body. It feels like he’s on fire – and that pouty, sleepy expression of yours is scorched on the back of his eyelids.

This is normal, he reasons. He’s just a normal, hormonal teenager who likes girls. And you, a dear and beloved friend, just so happens to be a girl. This is unfortunate, but it’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything more. Right?

You’re just friends. Nothing weird going on here.

Besides, it’s not his fault. Anyone would’ve been endeared by what he’d seen tonight.

You’re just too damn cute.

Right?

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuro tetsuro x reader #IDK WHAT TAGS ARE ANYMORE

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