#echoes of each other i’ll cry
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cw: child abuse mentioned, child neglect
Steve, who was never allowed to play in the snow as a child because it was ‘too messy’. Steve, who stared longingly outside as he watched other kids play in the snow. Steve, wanting to build a snowman, or an igloo, or have a snowball fight, but was denied each and every time by his parents. “It’s uncouth, Steven.” “It’s dirty, Steven.” “You’ll just whine that you’re cold, Steven.” “No.” “No.” “No.” Until he stopped asking altogether, even as he stared out his bedroom window at the other kids playing. Steve who loves the snow but was never allowed to play. The one time he snuck out, he was brought inside being dragged by his ear and spanked until he cried.
And then some for crying at all.
Steve goes shopping with his mom and sees a snow globe and all but cries for her to get it for him. If he can’t have the snow outside, he wants to have a snow globe to have it inside. She lets him get it, but not without commenting ‘at least it’s not going outside’.
Thus starts a collection, of sorts. Whenever he sees a new snow globe, he makes his mom buy him it and because he never asks to go outside to play in the snow if she buys one, she keeps buying them for him.
He has around 10 or 15 snow globes by the time he’s a teenager and left alone more than he isn’t. He still doesn’t go out to play in the snow, even if he silently yearns to, because now he’s ‘too old’ to play out in the snow. Tommy doesn’t like being cold, so he never goes out, and Carol won’t do something if Tommy’s not there, so Steve doesn’t bother asking her to go outside.
Steve becomes friends with Dustin and the rest of the party, and he still doesn’t let himself play with them, even when Dustin begs him to. He passes on the same excuses to him as his mom told him, and the words feel like ash in his mouth, but he doesn’t just play in the snow like he’s aching to. It’s too cold, he’ll be wet and miserable later, he doesn’t want to get water all over the house.
Mostly, they’re excuses because he’s kind of worried he doesn’t know how to play in the snow. That somehow he’ll be bad at it.
Eventually, when he and Robin become friends and their first winter together happens, he tells her this secret fear. It’s right after the kids go out to play, and it’s just them, and he whispers to her.
“I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”
Robin is confused, of course, because how can you be ‘bad’ at playing in the snow? He elaborates to her that he’s never played and she’s less confused but more angry at his parents, which he thinks is an over reaction and she insists he’s having an under reaction, whatever that means, and the moment passes. Steve is relieved to have revealed that much to her. He still doesn’t go outside, and Robin gets cold easily, so she doesn’t want to go outside, so they stay inside together.
He still collects snow globes, when he sees them. He buys one in front of the kids and brushes it off as a white elephant gift for a family thing, but displays it in the unused guest bedroom with the rest of the snow globes. It’s on the other side of the house from where every other guest bed is, so usually no one takes it, and so he knows his collection is safe.
Even if he keeps it secret, and plans to keep it secret forever, until the following winter, after the spring break from hell and after the grueling summer and cool fall brings the snow again and Eddie Munson is a menace in his life. He’s by far the most energetic person that he’s ever been friends with, all touches and open affection, it’s almost too easy to fall for him.
Eddie is nosy as hell and of course it’s him that finds the collection of snow globes.
“What’s this?” Eddie’s voice echoes from down the hall and it takes Steve a few seconds to process where his voice is coming from before he’s rushing down the hall and into the unused guest room.
Along the left wall, there’s a shelf that stretches from wall-to-wall filled with snow globes.
Embarrassment shoots through him, and he shrugs. “…snow globes.” he explains badly, wincing when Eddie turns towards him with an unimpressed look. It quickly morphs into concern because for some reason, Steve’s started tearing up and once the tears start they don’t stop.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie soothes, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, sweet thing.”
And the thing is, Steve does want to explain. Suddenly overcome with the urge to spill everything, in fact. So he does. He tells Eddie about his mom and dad refusing to let him play in the snow, the one time he got caught and got spanked for it, the snow globes, the fear of being bad at playing in the snow, still desperately wanting to despite it.
Through it all, Eddie holds him and listens. He hums occasionally to acknowledge what Steve is saying, but never interrupts him, for which Steve is glad because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to continue if he was stopped for any reason.
At the end of it, when Steve’s tears have dried, and they’re curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch, Eddie vows to teach him out to play in the snow. How to make a snow angel, a snowman, an igloo, a snowball — everything. He whispers these promises and plans into his ear, their hands intertwined where they lay on Steve’s lap.
And he follows through. With everything.
And the next time the kids beg him to play, he plays his part and says no, because he’s still anxious he’s going to do it wrong, Eddie throws a snowball at his back while he’s busy arguing with Dustin. And silence falls over everyone, waiting for Steve’s next move. Because he’s never given in, and no one’s ever pushed their luck like that.
Steve turns towards Eddie, narrowing his eyes at him.
“Oh, it’s on, Munson.”
The kids cheer and then it’s chaos of snowballs being lobbed at one another.
Later, when everyone is warming up with hot cocoa, and Steve is curled into Eddie’s side with a blanket tossed over their laps, Steve knows he’s never been happier to have met Eddie, who taught him how to play in the snow.
“Thank you,” Steve whispers to Eddie, who hums curiously, lazily looking at him from the corner of his eye. “For teaching me how to play in the snow.”
“Always, Stevie. I’ll always help you.”
And it sounds like a promise.
#is this anything?#idk#i wrote this on a whim#without rereading it#so if it doesn’t make sense i’m sorry#christmasish fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#cw child abuse#cw child neglect#steddie#stobin briefly#unsteddie writing
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Hey
Can you write a one shot where Bucky and reader have a daughter. One day when reader and their little daughter are at home and Bucky is at the compound or on a mission, reader accidentally hurts herself. She says something like this to the daughter :"Don't tell daddy." But later when Bucky comes home she says something to Bucky and he immediately gets worried. And then maybe some cuddle time with the Barnes Family.
Thank you in advance 💗
Mommy Hurt » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier
Pairings: Husband/Dad/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Daisy
Summary: Bucky gets worried when he finds out from his daughter that Y/N got hurt while he was on a mission.
Warnings: Fluff, language, small injury, brief mention of blood, hugs and kisses, cuddling, uses of nicknames/pet names
A/N: Thank you for requesting @lives-in-midgard 🩵 I had fun writing this🥰
Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.
Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier
GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found this one on Pinterest.
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” Yours and Bucky’s 3 year old daughter Daisy comes running in the kitchen with a piece of paper in her hands. “Look what I draw!” She says, holding the picture up for you to see.
“It’s beautiful, sweetie. Tell me about.” You say, looking down at her.
“This is daddy. This is mommy. This is Pine Pine. This is me.” She says, point to each stick figure in the picture.
You were trying your best to do the dishes and pay attention to what Daisy was saying which probably wasn’t the best idea, because the next thing you know, you felt a sharp pain in your hand. You gasped and dropped the knife you had in your other hand in the sink, clutching your hand in your other one.
“Mommy?” Daisy tapping on your leg. “What happened?” She asks, looking up at you.
“I-I’m fine, baby.” You tried your best to not cry in front of your daughter. “Mommy cut herself.” You tell her.
You slowly opened your hand to see a small cut on the palm of your hand with a little bit of blood coming out of it. You grabbed a kitchen towel that was next to the sink and put it on your hand, applying pressure.
“Mommy have a boo boo?” Daisy asks.
“Just a little one.” You say.
You crouched down to her height and gave her a hug.
“Don’t tell daddy.” You tell her.
“No tell daddy.” She says.
“Good girl.” You smiled and kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go watch cartoons in the living room and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You tell her.
“Ok, mommy!” Daisy says, running off to the living room.
You went to the bathroom and got the first aid kit out from underneath the sink. You cleaned out the cut with alcohol and wrapped some gauze around it and taped it with medical tape. You put the first aid kit away and went to the living room to see that Daisy put on Barbie. You took a seat next to her and watched it with her.
A couple days later, Bucky came home from a week long mission. Bucky frowns in confusion when he didn’t see you and Daisy greet him immediately like the two of you normally do.
“Where are my girls?” Bucky’s voice echos through the house.
Bucky heard Daisy’s little footsteps running towards him.
“Daddy!” Daisy says excitedly.
“There’s my baby girl!” Bucky says happily as he picked up Daisy.
Bucky gave her a bunch of hugs and kisses, making her giggle.
“Mommy hurt.” She tells him.
“What?” Bucky felt his heart drop, thinking that something bad happened to you while he was on the mission. “Where is mommy?” He asks her.
“Kitchen.” Daisy says, pointing towards the kitchen.
Bucky walks in the kitchen with Daisy in his arms to see you putting groceries away.
“Bucky, you’re home!” You smile widely and hugged him.
“Are you ok?” Bucky asks with worry in his voice.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked.
“Daisy told me you got hurt.” He says.
“I told her not to tell you.” You say, looking at your daughter.
“Sowwy, mommy.” Daisy says, feeling bad.
“It’s ok, sweetie.” You say, moving a piece of hair from her face.
Daisy tapped on Bucky’s shoulder, telling him that she wants down. When Bucky put her down, she ran to her play room.
“Show me.” He says.
“Babe, it’s nothing.” You say.
“Doll…” He says.
You sighed and took the gauze off of your left hand and showed him the cut on the palm of your hand that was starting to scab up. Bucky gently took your hand in his and inspected it.
“How did you cut yourself?” Bucky asks.
“I was doing the dishes while looking at a picture Daisy drew and I cut myself with a knife.” You explained.
Bucky felt relieved, knowing that you’re fine. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it softly, making you smile. Then he kissed you passionately.
“How about I properly patch up your hand.” Bucky says.
Bucky led you upstairs to yours and his bedroom. You took a seat on the bed while Bucky got the first aid kit from the bathroom. He came out of the bathroom and sat down next to you. He cleaned it with alcohol and wrapped it with gauze, also making sure it wasn’t too tight and tapped it with medical tape. He brought your hand up to his lips again and kissed it softly.
“Better?” Bucky asks.
“All better.” You say, leaning forward to kiss him.
“I’m taking you to the Compound tomorrow so Bruce can take a look at it.” He says.
“Fine.” You say with a playful pout.
Bucky kisses your lips once more, but the kiss was interrupted when Daisy came running in the bedroom.
“Hey!” Daisy shouts, getting yours and Bucky’s attention. “Up!” She says, doing grabby hands at her daddy.
You and Bucky smiled at her cuteness. Bucky picked her up and placed her in between the two of you.
“I draw something!” Daisy shows you and Bucky a picture. “This is daddy. This is mommy. This is Pine Pine. This is me. Me and Pine Pine are superheros like daddy in this one.” She tells you guys.
“It’s beautiful, princess.” Bucky says, kissing the top of her head.
You guys heard Alpine meow loudly as she jumped up on the bed. You guys gave Alpine some lovings before laying down with Daisy in between you and Bucky and Alpine on the pillow next to Bucky’s head.
“I wuv you, daddy. I wuv you, mommy.” Daisy says, kissing yours and Bucky’s cheeks.
“We love you too, baby.” You and Bucky say, kissing her cheeks.
Bucky turned on Barbie for Daisy while you guys cuddled for the rest of the night. Bucky couldn’t ask for anything better than this.
🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵
-Bucky’s Doll
#sergeant james buchanan barnes#sergeant james barnes#sergeant barnes#james buchanan bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james barnes#bucky barnes#winter soldier#sebastian stan#sebastian stan characters#avengers#marvel#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x wife!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes imagine#husband!bucky#dad!bucky#avenger!bucky#wife!reader#mom!reader
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I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!
Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!
You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)
It was rare, I was there
Here’s part 1!
Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…
Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else
Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing
Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!
—
Nothing. You could hear nothing.
Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?
You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.
The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.
The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.
“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”
“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”
“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”
Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”
Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”
You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.
“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.
“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.
As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.
You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.
Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.
—
Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.
After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.
The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.
The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”
“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”
“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”
Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”
“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”
“Is it hard to find me considerate?”
“I’d rather call it pathetic.”
“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”
The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”
Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”
With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”
“I know.”
“You need to go fix this.”
“I know.”
“And you were calling me pathetic!”
“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”
As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.
But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.
“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”
Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”
“Then we’ll talk to her.”
“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”
Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”
—
“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.
“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.
“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.
“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”
“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”
You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”
“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.
“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”
The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”
As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.
Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.
“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”
He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”
With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.
For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!
Oops.
—
It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.
As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.
But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.
“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”
You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”
“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.
You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”
“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”
That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.
After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”
Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.
You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?
You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?
The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot—and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?
But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.
Then, you saw him.
Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.
It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.
As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.
Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.
In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.
The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.
“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.
You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.
You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.
They were nowhere in the bazaar.
The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.
What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?
Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.
As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.
The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.
You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.
The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.
You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”
Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.
It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.
—
Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.
Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.
As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?
His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.
A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”
He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.
And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.
It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.
Boy, did that plan go to shit.
He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”
“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.
“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”
“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.
Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.
On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?
“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.
“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.
He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”
“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”
“But it happened anyway.”
For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”
With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”
As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.
You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.
As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.
Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”
As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.
—the end.—
#genshin fanfic#genshin impact#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham fanfic#alhaitham angst#angst to comfort#4ggravate#alhaitham#alhaitham comfort#dehyarzad#genshin dehya#dunyarzad
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⋆˙ 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔 ⋆˙
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Choi San x fem!reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your best friend helps you get through a breakup, but your feelings become intertwined as you spend time together.
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐞: Angust, smut and fluff
𝐀𝐔/𝐓𝐨𝐩𝐞: Best friends to lovers
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.2k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Infidelity (not the reader's), fingering, tasting semen, unprotected sex (don't do it)
N/A: This is my attempt at writing some romance (sort of) so I'm sorry if it's not very good, but I wanted to try.
Masterlist II tag list
This content NOT is for minors!!!
This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.
It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.
When you came home after a long day at work, what you least expected to find was your fiancé with someone else. At first you thought it was your tired eyes, but when you heard the moans echo in your ears you knew it wasn't a dream.
After your heart broke into a thousand pieces, you threw the first thing you could reach, to try to come back from the trance. They realized your presence too late, your fiancé's color drained from her face and the other girl simply covered herself with the first thing she would find.
"Love…"
“Don't call me that” your voice trembled and despite the tears gathering in your eyes you weren't going to hesitate to do what you had to.
"I…"
“I don't care” the other girl had taken the things from her and she left the room in fear when she walked past you. You wedged your nails into your palms and gritted your teeth so as not to run out and stamp her face “go with her.”
"But…"
“I warned you,” your fiance got down on his knees and grabbed you by the waist, hugging you, but even though the tears couldn't stop you remained firm, “the only thing you knew I wouldn't forgive you… And you did it… I… . I…"
“Love, it was a mistake… I didn't want to.”
“The only mistake here is you” the emotions were mixing and anger took control for a moment “I won't tell you again. Go with her or I’ll call someone to get you out of here.”
"But…"
"Get out of my home!!!"
Your fiance started to cry but he knew what you were capable of, so he took his clothes and left, but before closing the door you heard his last words.
"I still love you. “
When you were finally alone you let your emotions out, the tears did not let you see and the pain in your chest made you fall to your knees, but the anger was felt in the blood that fell from your hands through your nails. You stayed on the ground trying to assimilate what just happened.
All the moments you spent with him came back into your head only to haunt you, you felt short of breath when you felt the weight of the ring on your finger. You ripped it off and threw it away from you, remembering the promise that had just been broken. That night you couldn't move from where you were and crying filled the room, leaving you immersed in your pain.
***
San noticed your desk empty again. Your missed calls got on his nerves and his unanswered messages made him nervous. Nobody in the office knew what was wrong with you, the boss said you were sick, but he didn't believe it.
When he left work he ran as fast as his legs could carry him to your house. When he saw your house number he was happy and before knocking he took a breath to recover from the marathon. One, two, three, four times were not enough for you to open.
He didn't want to go in on his own, but he was really worried and knowing where you were hiding the key guided him to open the door. He was surprised to notice the dark interior and with each step he took the fear in his chest only grew more until he heard something in the distance.
San tripped over something in the dark but he didn't want to turn on the lights for fear of being discovered. When he arrived at your room a cry was present and he knew immediately that it was you. Without thinking much he turned on the light and he was scared when he saw the state of the room.
Everything was a mess. Clothes and things on the floor, torn papers and you in a ball between the blankets. You turned around only to see your best friend at the door with a thousand and one questions in his eyes, you turned around again, covering your face with the covers.
"Do not look at me"
“But…” San slowly approached where you were and sat on the edge of the bed, revealing your swollen, red face and dark circles adorning your eyes. “What happened here?”
You opened your mouth to say something but only a whimper came out and again the uncontrollable tears accompanying your pain. San took you in his arms and you let his warmth envelop you, cling to his clean shirt and get dirty with your tears.
San stayed with you until you calmed down, he didn't pressure you to say anything, but he could guess what happened because of the absence of 'someone' Hours passed in your friend's arms, sobbing and trying to calm down while he stroked your hair. With a lot of effort you managed to tell him what happened and when you finished he just hugged you tighter and snuggled up next to you.
“Everything is fine, I'm here”
***
When you opened your eyes, your tired body did not react to the arms that surrounded you, you only clung closer to his chest, inhaling his scent. Infinitely grateful to have someone like San by your side, he had become your friend in a short time but you were very confident, as if you had known each other for longer. When you broke down you thought about calling him, but you were so hurt you couldn't even move.
San stayed by your side all the time and he even missed work just to take care of you, you didn't understand why he worried so much, but he had his reasons. Your whole life was summed up to San cleaning, San cooking, San bathing you, San, San, San. But despite your friend's good actions, your mind did not forget.
"Come on, get up."
“I don't want to” you tried hard to hold on to the bed but obviously you couldn't. San picked you up easily in his arms and dragged you to the living room “I don't want to go out.”
“You have to do it, it's for your own good” you knew you were going to lose against him, but you still held on to the door frame in vain “the sun will be good for you and you have to get another job.”
He had a point. You couldn't stay home forever no matter how much money you had saved up, but the thought of leaving after weeks in the comfort of your home terrified you, especially because you thought that anyone who saw you would realize what happened.
"But…"
“If you don't let go, I swear I will tie your arms and drag you through the city.”
His voice was different from how he spoke to you when he comforted you at night, so sighing and with a lot of effort you tried to accept it.
The streets were wet from the rain, but a few rays of sun fought against the clouds to see the city. You didn't want to admit it but breathing fresh air helped you a little to force your body to do something, you felt a little better, so much so that you invited San to eat.
"You look better"
You looked him in the eyes and reached out your hands to take his. If it weren't for him maybe you would have rotted in your own house, but now you felt that not everything was so bad, especially next to him.
“I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me.”
San raised a hand and caressed your cheek, ignoring how warm his chest felt when you smiled.
“Just keep going.”
A lump formed in your throat, but it was different. It was no longer for a man, but for you. You had neglected yourself so much that you were on the verge of collapse, you no longer wanted to remain stagnant, it was time to move forward, you had to find a way to move on with your life, this was just a bad move.
You nodded, trying not to shed tears and making yourself a promise. You would move on.
***
The months passed and everything seemed to get better, you got rid of all your ex-fiancé's things, you no longer cried every night, you could get out of bed on your own and you even got a job. All with the help of San.
When San felt that he had finished his work he decided that it was time to return to his own apartment, but the idea of leaving you alone terrified him a little, although you didn't want him to leave either, so with fear you proposed that you live together. San was very surprised and thought that he was listening wrong, but when he saw that you weren't smiling he became serious.
"Are you sure?"
"San… You've practically been living here for more than three months, plus we're best friends, it wouldn't be so strange after all" something on his face seemed to change and you worried a little "but of course if you don't want to…"
"Yes, I want"
They both smiled hiding their true thoughts. You would never admit that you got used to seeing him walk barefoot in the mornings or his sweet voice at night or his strong arms when you relapsed. You didn't want to find out why the idea of leaving him weighed so much on you, even though deep in your heart you knew the truth.
***
"Are you ready?" San nodded, leaning his head on the couch. You delicately placed the mask over his face and held back a laugh when you saw how it looked on him.
“Don't laugh, you should try it, it's relaxing”
"Sure, Mr. Ghost."
San opened his eyes when he heard your laughter walk away to the kitchen and held back a sigh. He couldn't take it anymore. He had been in love with you for years and this whole situation since you broke up with your idiot ex didn't help him at all, least of all the fact of living together, but he had to put up with it if he didn't want to lose you. He didn't want to say a word because he didn't think you were ready to love anyone else after what happened to you.
He had been really angry, how could someone do that to you? He never liked the jerk, so he had the perfect opportunity to beat him up when he ran into him outside the office one day and even though you never came in he was content with leaving him on the floor. Furthermore, it was a little calming for him to see how you were getting better, although he felt that his situation was getting worse as the days went by.
It was increasingly difficult for him to be close to you without wanting to admire every part of your body, it was difficult for him to fight his impulses to kiss you every time he saw you smile and it was difficult to hide the reactions in his body when his hands touched or you gave him a touch. hug.
He closed his eyes again and focused on something else, but the aroma of your perfume around him intoxicated him so much that he couldn't control his body. As soon as he heard your footsteps he grabbed anything within reach and placed it on his lap to hide the problem that had started to form in his pants.
“You can't take over the popcorn,” you said, grabbing a fist. San tensed for a moment, holding the bowl tightly in his lap and tried to avoid your gaze as you turned on the television. It took a while before he managed to relax a little but a small discomfort still invaded his crotch.
Everything happened normally, small jokes between the actors' decisions, laughter involved, complaints on your part about something, but neither of you expected the phone to ring.
“I'll answer,” San said, getting up before you. When he got to the phone on the wall he noticed an unregistered number “Hello?”
"Who are you? Where is she?" San froze when he recognized that voice, he looked at where you were and it seemed like you didn't care, but he knew you could hear clearly, so he lowered his voice.
“She is not there”
“Don't lie, I know she's there” with every word your ex said her blood grew hotter, but she had to maintain her composure, she didn't want to alarm you “pass it to me or…”
"What will you do?"
“I will go to where you are and break your face.”
“Try it, last time you were the one who ended up on the ground.” San felt how all his accumulated anger was coming out little by little.
“You, why are you with her? Are you trying to take it away from me? She is mine” San gritted his teeth without taking his eyes off you, he felt her blood boiling but when he was about to hang up he heard something else “she will always be mine. Do you think that a few months by your side can erase what we had? Hahaha don't make me laugh, did you think she would fall in love with you if you were there for her? Hahaha you are an idiot”
“You don't deserve it”
“It maybe, but she will always choose me and I will prove it to you…” San stopped halfway when you snatched the phone from him.
“Stop it,” you put the phone in its place and sighed, “it's not worth it.”
“Did you know it was him?” you didn't look at it and pressed the appropriate buttons to lock it.
“I don't know how he got the number again.”
"Again?" San was angry and you could tell without seeing him, but you didn't dare find out. “Since when has this been happening?” Your silence only showed what I already assumed and I raised my voice without wanting to “tell me.”
“All the time,” you responded, raising your voice back, taking out your frustration, “he always finds a way to get the number and calls, but I never answer.”
"But…"
“Stop worrying, I'm fine” your tone came out a little harsher than you thought, but you let out everything you were thinking “I don't need you to take care of me so much” San was about to speak but you continued “yes, I know what he did, and that is why I will never forgive him, no matter what he does, I will never doubt my decisions San, I am an adult.”
San let out a exhausted sigh and took you in his arms without saying anything. You tried to walk away but in the end you gave up when one of his hands began to caress your head.
“Sorry for doubting you” you raised your head to meet his eyes and noticed that there was something behind them. The words pooled in her throat, but you bit your lip. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
You wrapped your hands around her waist and hid your head in her chest. That comforting feeling in your chest made you shiver and you hugged him tighter without thinking.
“Nothing can happen to me if you are with me”
San felt as if the barrier he had put up had just broken, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He took your face in his hands and opened his mouth to say what was tormenting him, but he couldn't, his lips trembled. He was so afraid that he couldn't move.
Your feelings ran through your entire body and you felt your heart hammering in your chest, but you still held his face and pressed your forehead to his without stopping to look at him. There were so many things to say, but neither of them knew how to do it, not after the pain, the secrets, and the moments they had shared over the past few months.
His lips met without much resistance and at first you thought it was a mistake when you didn't get a response. San was just trying to process it, he had dreamed about this moment so much that he thought maybe it was another one of his fantasies, but when your hands grabbed his hair he reacted and he started to move his lips slowly.
It was a kiss loaded with all his feelings kept from him, it was slow like the love that consumed him, soft and delicate like his trembling hands on your back.
He let out a sigh that released all the burden from his shoulders, everything he had hidden finally came to light. You clung to his mouth until you lost your breath. You pulled away from him to look into his eyes and discover all the secrets he couldn't tell while you waited for him to see yours.
They stayed for a long moment looking through his soul, they didn't need to say anything, they both knew it, they felt it deep in his heart. His bodies were getting closer again and they didn't stop when his lips collided again, releasing all the desire contained in the back of your mind.
You couldn't think of anything but San's tongue playing with yours, his soft moans muffled in his throat. San separated for a moment to admire your face, without saying a word you understood what his dark eyes wanted. To you.
You pulled him towards you again but this time his mouth was more desperate, his hands squeezed the skin on your waist and you held back a moan. You walked backwards, taking him with you until you collided with the edge of the table. San took advantage and grabbed your legs, pulling you up onto the wood. His kisses moved down your chin to your neck and he lightly sucked on your skin making you let out a moan.
Your hands ran down his chest until they reached one of the buttons on his shirt and you began to unbutton them, leaving him bare to appreciate his chest. You held back a sigh and saw him smile as he grabbed your legs, caressing your thighs, you moaned a little when his hips collided and you noticed a bulge.
You both looked into each other's eyes as you moved your hips a few times, you breathed the same breath and you threw your head back as you felt the arousal building in your belly.
“San…” you grabbed his face and approached his lips slowly. The words tickled your tongue, but you still weren't sure you wanted to hear them.
“I think I love you” San answered for you and you opened your eyes suddenly.
You noticed the tears in your eyes and kissed him before he saw that you had shed a tear. He knew it, he felt it in his veins, he knew that you also felt the same, he didn't need words.
You moaned a little when his mouth left a path of soft kisses to the neckline of your shirt and a shiver ran through your body when his hands slid under the fabric to knead your breasts.
He took off the shirt you were wearing and held back a sigh to see your breasts in the air. He covered your nipple with his mouth, feeling your fingers in his hair. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his tongue making circles and his teeth sinking into your delicate skin.
His hands were not far behind and slowly moved down your legs where he gently squeezed your thighs and approached your core. You arched your back as you felt his fingers play with the thin fabric of your shorts. You stretched the strands of his hair without realizing it when he ran his fingers over your clothed clit, you moaned his name, closing your eyes at the sensation.
“Say it again,” he asked, raising his blushing face and half-closed eyes. You bit your lips and recorded his face in your memory. San moved his fingers through your pussy and you moaned involuntarily.
“Sa… San”
You held on to his shoulders as he moved your clothes and touched your core directly, massaging your clit in circles as he kissed your neck. Her fingers moved all over your pussy until they reached your entrance and you sighed again as you felt one of her fingers enter your tight hole.
San moves his hand to take out and sink his finger in again, he doesn't take his eyes off your pretty face even for a moment and begins to move faster as he sees how your mouth opens to blurt out his name.
You rest your elbows on the table and throw your head back as you feel a second finger enter, your body is eager and trembling, San's fingers make you feel so full and they hit a sweet spot when he curves them that makes you see stars.
“Don't stop…” you manage to say between moans and you close your eyes tightly when he follows your instructions, your legs tremble and you fight to keep them open, but you release the knot in your belly without being able to stop it.
San's hands grip your waist and he pulls you into his mouth. You still feel his fingers inside you and you moan when he takes them out. You watch as he opens his mouth and licks his fingers, testing himself on them and you can't help but blush when you see that image of him.
“You taste exquisite, princess.”
Before you can say anything, take your legs, wrap your legs around his body and hold on to his shoulders while he takes you to the room, you leave small kisses along his neck and you hear him sigh.
He gently laid you on the bed and you watched him take off his clothes, trying to control the urge to run your hands all over his body. He leaned towards you and joined your lips in a delicate kiss. There was no rush, San wanted to admire every part of you, he wanted to keep this moment in his memory forever.
He shifted a little and you sighed as you felt his cock pass through your wet pussy. You both looked into each other's eyes, there was a question in them and you just nodded knowing what was to come. Your body tensed as you felt his cock enter you and he kissed your cheeks.
“Relax” you inhaled air and relaxed your body feeling how little by little it filled you “you did well princess.”
He dried your tears and kissed your forehead, containing the urge to start moving. He looked into your eyes and sighed. The love he felt for you had consumed him completely for a long time, but now that you were with him he couldn't believe it. He caressed your face and kissed your lips to realize that it was not a dream.
“I love you so much,” he gave a little push and you sighed without taking your eyes off his. He moved his hips again, starting to set a slow but deep rhythm.
You wrapped your hands around his body behind his back and wrapped your legs around his waist. There was no distance between his bodies and yet you clung to him without wanting to let go. You marked his back with your nails when he touched a sensitive spot inside you and San kissed your shoulders, leaving small marks of his teeth on your skin.
Everything felt so different from what you were used to, everything around you stopped mattering and you could only focus on the man looking into your soul. They were connected beyond the union of his bodies, you could see all his secrets in his eyes and you felt his love in his gaze.
“I love you,” you said for the first time in a long time without fear.
San stopped for a moment and took your hand, intertwining his fingers.
"Say it again"
“I love you” you repeated.
San's body shook, he was close to him, but he didn't stop moving his hips to the rhythm that you said over and over again: "I love you."
You both moaned as you felt San's release. His body collapsed on top of yours and you sighed, caressing his head. They stayed together for a long time until he moved away from you.
They settled between the sheets and hugged each other for a long time without saying anything. Your whole head was spinning, you were tangled in his arms and you could hear his heartbeat.
“Promise me you won't leave” San moved a little to see you and became serious.
“I promise you I won't leave.”
"Never?"
“Never” You didn't know why his words comforted you and you smiled, hugging him again "I love you."
-> @cultofdionysusnet
#cultofdionysusnet#choi san#san ateez#ateez#san hard hours#san x reader#san x you#ateez fanfiction#ateez smut#ateez fanfic#kpop imagines#ateez hard hours#ateez fic#ateez x reader
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— no time to die, clarisse la rue, pjo
summary — in which, in place of silena, it’s you who dies from the drakon.
pairings — clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader (daughter of poseidon)
content includes — mc death dont jump me 🙁, clarisse pushing percy, also percy crying, angst sawry again, clarisse + sadness don’t jump me, gets a lil graphic
authors note — got inspired while i was editing ep 8 im sorry 🙏🏾
it was during the battle of manhattan when it happened.
you and clarisse got into an argument over her refusing to help the camp, all because her pride overshadowed her morals, her humanity.
the conflict escalated, eventually ending in her telling you she didn’t care if you stood with her or against her, you could go and die in the war and she wouldn’t care.
a harsh, burning slap and the slamming of the cabins doors came soon after that.
it was the next morning. all of camp, except for the ares cabin, were getting final things situated. you and percy were inside the poseidon cabin, saying goodbye to your second home for what could be the last time.
percy could see the anxiety and stress on your face. you knew clarisse didn’t mean what she said, but she still hasn’t apologized. “we’ll make it.” percy told you. if there was one person who could read you other than clarisse, it was percy.
you looked up at him. tears were welling up. you knew you were one of the last people who needed to be weak, especially in a time like this; you and percy were the main ones leading the camp into this.
“i’m scared, percy.” you told him. “what if i don’t make it back to her—“ “you will. we will make it back, or i’ll haunt the gods for as long as they live. so, forever.” you laughed at him. you loved him, fully biological or not.
the conch blew, signaling that it was time to go. you looked at each other with knowing; today could be your last day, whether you liked it or not.
“come on.” you grabbed all that you needed before heading out and shutting the doors to the old cabin. outside, there stood waiting the entire camp. it was silent, a deathly wave of uneasiness washed over the crowd.
you surveyed the crowd. annabeth, silena, and more. people you’ve spent a majority of your life with so far. you shouted out a word of command, and soon the footsteps of soon to be soldiers echoed through the camp and into the fields, soon off to manhattan. clarisse and the ares cabin were in the back, standing their ground.
you pressed your lips together firmly. you let your eyes show it — you still loved her no matter what, and she knew that.
clarisse let you walk into your own death, cemented in stone by her herself.
the air electrified when the drakon was unleashed.
dust was kicked up in the air. bodies of sleeping civilians were slowly clearing out from the campers getting them to safety. the hotel where everyone was residing was getting full to burst, injured campers everywhere.
you were tending a younger child of hermes wounds when you heard the roar of the creature. a sickening silence fell over the room. “oh, gods.” you whispered.
it had to be you.
there was barely anyone left; half of the campers were injured. the other half were off fighting kronos’ soldiers.
it just had to be you.
you looked at the hermes child you were tending to. you wrapped them up as quickly as you could before ascending up the stairs. you saw percy squatting next to annabeth. “y/n?” annabeth whispered out.
“what’s wrong?” percy turned around when he heard her say your name. “percy,” you rushed forward to grip his shoulders. “i’m so, so proud of you. everyone’s proud of you.” the drakon’s wings flapped loudly.
“what are you talking about?” he furrowed his eyebrows. he was so confused, not realizing what was happening. your panicked eyes looked frantically at the sky. “i love you. more than you know. always remember that, okay? you’re going to lead us to victory, and i’ll be right there beside you.”
percy’s gears started turning. “no. no, what are you doing?” he shot up, his face morphing into pain and desperation. “percy i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” you unsheathed your sword. “y/n, we promised!” you ran to the dood you came through, not being able to deal with the pain of looking at your brother for one last time.
“we promised you’d make it back to her!”
you could your heart squeezing. squeezing so hard that it broke into a million pieces.
“she’ll.. we’ll be okay.”
you said anything, just to not have to face reality of how clarisse would feel.
clarisse felt like something was off. maybe it was the look in your eye before you left, or maybe it was the way the clouds were starting to form, indicating a storm was coming. her heartbeat pumped a little faster when the sun wasn’t shining and thunder started to clap.
she didn’t feel good.
“we’re leaving, let’s go.” she threw a bag at michael yew. “what?” “you heard me.” he was confused. clarisse was usually never one to back down from a standoff. “why?” clarisse sighed out frustratingly. “i just have a feeling. round up the chariot and everyone else. be at the front of the camp in five minutes.”
michael wanted to be defiant but there was a look in clarisse’s eye, telling him all he needed to know.
“dad, if you’re going to be a good father to me one last time, let it be this time.” you whispered out. you felt a tug in your stomach, and a fire hydrant beside you exploded. you forced the water to lift you into the air and follow the drakon.
the golden creature wasn’t hard to spot, although it was much bigger than you imagined. the sound of thunder boomed above you. “that’s probably not good.” the drakon started to head towards the main group of fighters who were attacking kronos’ army. you yelled at a curse before speeding towards it. you came below it, cutting it off.
you slashed your sword against it’s neck. the creature roared in anger, and soon fluids fell onto your face. you groaned in disgust but the drakon just roared at you.
“man, i heard you.” you willed the water to bring you on top of the drakon. the drakon roared as you gripped it’s horns. “come on!” and you reared the drakon back. the drakon turned and flapped around, kicking up dust.
its greenish-yellowish eyes glowed throughout the sky. you kicked around it’s body, trying to find a soft spot before finally finding one around its ribs. “there you go.” you stabbed your sword into its ribcage, and fluid fell onto your leg. you wailed in pain at the burning sensation. the drakon bellowed in anger and pain at the stab.
the acid was quickly burning it’s way down to the bone of your leg, and you knew you had to move fast. the drakon start moving faster, and you started to lose your balance. you spotted the roof of a building, and gripped the horns as hard as you could to steer it towards the rooftop.
you landed and tumbled off of the back of the drakon. “oh my gods.” you cursed out, finally feeling the acid burn. muscle was starting to show, soon to be bone. the drakon hissed out, hot air reaching you. you were quick to try and stand up, struggling with your leg.
you used your sword as crutch, before lifting it and tightening your grip. you stared the drakon down, accepting what was about to happen. you started walking towards the drakon, picking up speed.
you let out a war cry, knowing it would be your last.
the ares cabin rode into the city on the chariot with clarisse leading. she knew something was off when it slowly started to rain.
“where is she?” she scanned to find you below, not thinking to look further. “oh, gods. clarisse!” one of her siblings called. clarisse looked up, and her heart dropped. there stood you, facing off against the drakon.
“no, no, no!” she steered the chariot towards you. she watched as the drakon slashed it’s claws deep into your stomach. blood was starting to dribble out of your mouth, but you didn’t dare stop. you couldn’t.
the fate of the world depended on it.
you were tired. so, so tired.
you were losing your life force. your face paled, your blood seeped out of you in multiple places, but you refused to give up. you refused to let percy, clarisse and the others live in a world that was dominated by kronos, so you pushed.
it was almost over. the drakon was almost done with you, yet you kept fighting.
‘please..’
suddenly, you felt your body vibrate. there was a pull in your stomach, and everything fell quiet. the fighting below you stopped.
you panted, looking at the drakon. “i’m not letting you go until i win.” hydrants exploded, and ocean water met you on top of the building. “so if i have to die to save them, you’re going with me.”
water circled around you, and you ran forward, launching yourself onto the drakon. a familiar voice yelled out, but before you could realize who it was, you stabbed the drakon in the neck. you willed the water to bring you to the hudson river, and you hung on as tight as possible.
you guided the water back into the ocean, and soon, you were submerged in the dirty hudson river.
there was silence for a moment, before you were launched out of the river. the drakon was killed and submerged, the water spirits making sure of it.
the water guided you onto the streets of manhattan, close to the hotel. you were in pain, and you knew the ocean couldn’t help you this time. campers sped out of the hotel, and percy pushed through them. he ran towards you, cradling your head.
“no, please— why aren’t you healing?!” before he could get an answer, clarisse reached the street. she jumped out of the chariot before it could fully land and sprinted towards you. “y/n!” she moved percy out of the way before taking you.
“‘m sorry.” you didn’t know who you were apologizing to at that point. clarisse, percy, both of them, the camp? it was all a blur. “don’t be sorry, sweet girl, please.”
“percy..” you whispered out. “is she okay? is annabeth okay?” you asked. annabeth was like the little sister you never had. she was one of the people you loved most, and it pained you even more to leave her too. “she is, she’s healing. if you can just- just pull through, just live, you can see her— we can see her.”
tears welled up. you looked back at clarisse. tears were streaming down her cheeks, her lips trembling. “i shouldn’t have said all those things to you, y/n, i’m so sorry.” she sobbed. “this is my fault-“
you brought a hand up to her face to wipe her tears. “clar, it’s okay. it’s over.” your breathing started to get wheezy. “it was my time anyways. it’s okay.” you repeatedly told her. “i love you. always will.” you told her. your breathing evened out, eventually coming to a stop. “no, gods, please!” she usually never prays to the gods, but just this once she wished your father would be useful and bring you back, but nothing.
soon, a glow surrounded your body. it was like they were holograms, the sea creatures. there were fish, stingrays, sharks. they formed a circle, eventually rotating up towards the sky.
the ocean had come to say goodbye.
everyone watched as the creatures left, and the glow around you soon dissipated. it was silent, before it started raining, announcing the death of a child of poseidon.
rain fell on clarisse as she watched you. the rain fell onto your face, blending in with your tears that slid down your cheeks right before, clearing the path of dust on them.
she held you tighter as she let out a loud, blood curdling scream. a scream of anguish, a shout of pain, as she realized that you were truly gone.
#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x you#clarisse x reader#clarisse pjo#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson fic#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians
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sleep mad. spencer reid x reader
content — hurt comfort. bau!reader. mention of bau case. short fic.
you don’t let spencer leave your hotel room after a fight.
it was a perfectly normal reaction, to storm out for fresh air after a tense argument. spencer didn’t expect you to literally scream ‘no!’ from behind him. he turned on his heel so fast, recognising the fear in your voice from case victims, preparing himself to see you being attacked. he wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of tears, and no criminal presence.
when the two of you disagreed, it was almost always with quiet voices and levelled frustration. this time was no different. neither of you had yelled, cursed, or become enraged. it was irritation and exhaustion at the root of it, and it wasn’t worth the look on your face now. his own eyes shot wide in concern, spencer saw how you visibly trembled in the doorway, despite the evening being uncharacteristically warm, humid even. in the dingy light from the hotel hallway, he could hardly make out the contours of your face, but he could imagine what it must have looked like. why had you shouted?
you swiped messily at the damp rivets dug into your cheeks from the sudden fit of crying, effectively willing yourself to stop as you folded your arms defensively. your voice was wavering but firm as you said, “no. if you want space, i’ll go sit on the fire escape, but you can’t… you can’t leave this late spence.”
he raised a brow at you. usually, he disliked being told what to do, but that clearly wasn’t your intention here. spencer could clearly see the terror on your face, but he couldn’t decipher what you were so afraid of. so, forgetting the rule to not profile each other, he asked. you reached forward and tugged him into the room by his forearm, ever gentle, before spinning away to leave him be. but he didn’t want space anymore, he wanted answers.
“what’s going on?”
knowing you could never successfully lie to spencer, you sighed and dug your hands into your pockets. you felt guilty for not allowing him what he’d needed to cool off, but you couldn’t let him leave like that while working this case. each of the three victims left behind a brokenhearted spouse, each of which you’d been interviewing since eight that morning. the last was the worst, breaking down fully in jj’s arms, wracked with uncontrollable sobbing as they explained the last interaction they’d shared was a verbally vicious fight. their last words were venomous, and no peace was made.
“tell me.” spencer’s demand was soft. he sat on the edge of the hotel bed, and your heart twisted as the new angle enunciated the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. you were sure you sported a matching pair.
you tried your best not to shut down, to communicate, “we… we see so many grievers. how many tell us that their last conversations were full of anger? they… can’t ever accept what happened, move on, because they never go to say ‘i love you’ that last time. they think the other died hating them. if we’re apart, and something happens, and our last words were just mean…”
he listened as you struggled through your explanation, but when you finally trailed off and dropped eye contact, he stood slowly. you heard him pad across the cheap carpet to get close enough to find the palm of your hand, and you let him take it in his own. a light rain had begun to batter the small window.
“you’re right,” spencer whispered, something you rarely hear when dating a genius, “you’re right. our lives are dangerous. but i don’t want us to fight anyway. i’m sorry.”
you sniffed and tried to not think about how pathetic you sounded when you repeated his final sentence back to him, equally as sincere.
spencer thumbed lightly at the dip between your eye and cheekbone, “i love you. now, and when we fight. i- i always love you.”
again, you echoed his sentiment, accompanying it with the sweetest kiss you could press to his jaw. your fingers curled into his hair, carefully undoing a tangle, and simultaneously undoing every knot of tense muscle in his body.
most couples just worried about going to sleep mad. you weren’t sure what it said that your worries centred around one of you being brutally murdered before making up, but you supposed that unique thought process just came with the territory. there was no blanket pulled over your eyes, the world wasn’t hiding it’s most sinister corners from you. or if it was, you sought them out. but those fears that usually haunted you just melted away when you held spencer. you were just like most couples.
two young adults, completely in love, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of your breaths in a crappy hotel, blissfully ignorant to the residents of the rooms either side of you grumbling about being awoken by your hallway confrontation.
a mess of entwined limbs, you eventually made it to bed, to sleep. one of you, or maybe both, uttered an “i love you” every few minutes. an enforced reminder to linger in your half-asleep state, lulling your minds to rest.
sleep came easy, for once.
#🤍ebullientheart#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#bau!reader#spencer reid x bau!reader#hurt/comfort#spencer reid hurt/comfort#fluff#spencer reid fluff#angst#spencer reid angst
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could you write a ditzy!reader with tasm peter parker -- i have a vision of them bickering and reader just saying incredibly wrong things (ala getting things confused with each other, not flat out lies) while effortlessly beating whoever theyre fighting
“You always make this look much more difficult than it is, Spider-Man!” you call.
Peter is a little busy getting his head smashed into a wall to answer you. “Fuck! Hey, man, are you trying to graduate from robber to murderer? ‘Cos you’re getting there,” he says, shooting the front of a web into the robber’s face before ducking under his arm and quickly climbing up the opposite wall. He smacks the end of the web into the buildings and lets the guy hand there two feet off the ground, dropping down to poke at his dangling feet. “Or you could be a life-sized Christmas decoration. This is way cooler.”
“He’s not a robber, Spider-Man,” you say. He’s surprised you don’t call him Peter, honestly. “He’s a cat burglar. They’re different.”
“He’s not a cat burglar, he didn’t go into anyone’s house. What are you doing?”
You’ve strung the robber’s accomplice up like a fly in a spider's web. You’re giggling as you drop down beside him, the sound only so slightly muffled by your spandex mask. “He looks tasty.”
A honk echoes from the mouth of the alley, then a screech of tires. Peter heard a cry of, “Hey, my purse!” and then, predictably, the approach of hurried footsteps.
“Good day for robbers,” you say conversationally.
“Bad day for old ladies. Do you have the purse?”
You turn to him to show the purse already slung over your shoulder, the body bumping against your hip. “It suits me, right? Hey, did you know purses keep getting bigger because women have to carry more stuff? Soon, my purse will be the size of my car.”
“You don’t have a car. And that’s not true, purses come in a hundred different sizes.” Peter gently pushed your chest back to get a clean shot at the approaching robber. He webs him at the feet, and smirks to himself as the newcomer immediately topples forward, the stolen purse flying from his hands. “Watch your step.”
“Delivery!” you laugh, grabbing the bag off of the ground. “Hey, we should make these guys pay for the bags, considering they’re all scuffed up and broken now. What do you think?” you ask the robber stuck to the floor, who’s now lamenting a potentially broken nose. “Aw, Spider-Man, look what you did.”
“Walk it off,” Peter advises, taking you by the shoulders to lead you out of the alleyway. He’s too tired to deal with these idiots today. “It was in the name of justice.”
“I heard that a broken nose takes up to five months to heal. What justice is that?”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. I saw it on the history channel.”
“The same channel that thinks aliens built the pyramids?”
“Everyone’s wrong about something.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll keep it in mind. Now where did that old lady go?”
“There’s a Pilates studio down the street. Old people love that stuff.”
“No, they don’t.” Peter looks at you with concern. You keep on walking, unaware of his looking nor his judgement as you emerge from the alley into the New York City hub. Peter jogs to catch up, slipping an arm between yours to anchor you to him as he says, “It’s a good thing you’re so pretty.”
“That’s mildly insulting. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”
Peter can’t kiss you with the masks. He would, though. A smacker of a kiss pressed unabashed into your cheek. “You really think old people like Pilates?”
#tasm peter parker#tasm peter x reader#tasm peter parker imagine#tasm peter parker x you#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm x reader#peter parker x reader#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter imagine#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm! peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#peter parker oneshot#peter parker blurb#peter parker imagine#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#spiderman x you#spiderman fanfiction
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Back to you • Felix catton
Summary : After Abruptly ending things a few months ago with y/n Felix sees her for the first time at a party.
As the rhythmic pulse of the music filled the room, Felix’s attention abruptly shifted when y/n walked into the party. Time seemed to slow, and the vibrant chatter around him muted into a distant hum. In that moment, everything faded into the background as if the universe had conspired to spotlight her entrance. The air felt thinner, and each step she took echoed like a heartbeat resonating in his chest. Her presence commanded the room, casting a spell that hushed the clamor of the party. For a fleeting moment, the world ceased to exist beyond the boundaries of their shared gaze, and the gravitational pull of nostalgia lingered in the space between them, leaving Felix breathless and captivated by the memory of a connection that time had failed to erase.
She was in that pretty little dress he loved so much. However the arm of the guy she’d walked in with wrapped around the material tainted the image Felix has of it in his head. He wanted to tare the guy limb from limb for being anywhere near his girl. But she’s not his girl anymore.
And that was his fault.
It didn’t take long for Felix to completely abandon the conversation he was in making his way over to y/n who was just as stunned to see him.
“Hey stranger.” Felix said pretending he wasn’t having heart palpitations from the proximity. He watched as the way her eyes welled up for a few seconds at the sight of him before she blinked the tears back making a point of wrapping herself in the boy beside hers arms.
“Hey Felix, this is Danny.”, She said leaning her head onto the boys shoulder “Danny this is Felix.” She said with a tight lipped smile.
“Nice to meet you.” Danny offered his hand to Felix but Felix just looked him up and down and turned his attention back to y/n.
“Could i steal you for a second?” He asked she hesitated for a second before shaking her head.
“No, we’ve just got here need to make the rounds, I’ll see you around though.” She said before grabbing Danny’s hand and dragging him away leaving Felix stood in the same hurt and shock he left her in all those nights ago.
Felix spent the rest of the night sat sulking while the girl he was currently messing around with sat on his lap trying to keep his attention but he couldn’t take his eyes off Y/n and Danny. God what was she going with that guy, she couldn’t love him. Not how she loved Felix he couldn’t believe for a second that she could share the love they had with anyone else.
It wasn’t until she drunkenly stumbled out to the smoking area that she saw his chance to get her alone. Felix pushed the girl off his lap much to her protest before downing what was left of his drink and making his way outside.
He saw her stood in the corner struggling to light her cigarette, the habit that she’d picked up from him staining her still. Y/n fumbled with her lighter, frustration etched on her face as she shook the lighter before returning to try and light her cigarette. Felix let out a sigh before walking over to her flicking his own lighter without saying a word.
She knew it was him without having to look up, she could tell by the signet ring he wore everyday, the one she got him almost four years ago. Y/n reluctantly let him light her cigarette slurring a thank you.
“Can we talk?” He asked as she leant the wall behind them taking a drag of her cigarette.
“About what?” She said In almost a whisper, she knew when she spotted him walking towards her earlier that this would happen. That he’d somehow corner her and beg to talk about what happened. About them.
“You know exactly what.” He said she was refusing to look at him knowing if she did she’d start crying on the spot.
“I don’t want to talk about that.” she said to him staring at the floor. They both let a few moments of silence go by both silently praying the other would talk first.
“You look really pretty tonight.” Felix said and she finally looked up at him scoffing at his words.
“Oh wow you notice for once.” She rolled her eyes as she took another drag of her cigarette.
“Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything.” She now had tears welling in her eyes for that second time that evening.
“Y/n.” He said softly but she shook her head not wanting to let how gentle he always was with her affect her anymore than it already had.
“Don’t y/n me.” She said as tears rolled down her cheeks, she hated the way he made her feel. She hated that she still loved him.
“Farleigh told me you asked about me.” Felix said as she flicked her cigarette out and threw it away from them
“So what.” She whispered he hated the look in her eyes. The hurt he knew he’d caused.
“You could have asked me yourself.” He said and she shook her head in disbelief. He ended things with her out of the blue and the thought she’d still be his friend.
“You decided that wasn’t an option when you ended things.”
“Y/n.”
“No stop it, I won’t do this.” She shook her head once again her arms wrapping around herself as she moved away from him. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t walk away from him but this was Felix she could never walk away from him. She’d never be the one to walk away.
“Can we please just talk about this?” He was begging at this point. He needed a reason to keep talking to her to keep her near knowing if he let her leave right now he’d never see her again if she could help it.
“Can you just leave me alone, seeing you hurts Felix, it physically hurts.” She said as more and more tears rolled down her eyes the wind making her sway slightly.
“No,” he shook his head his hand coming to her cheek to wipe her tears away, but she batted him away “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You already did, you already left me remember.” She croaked her voice harsh from the alcohol mixed the the tears.
“I never meant for- why Felix why did you do it?” She cut him off her emotions getting the better of her as he looked at her his beautiful brown eyes glossy now as he fought back his own tears.
“I don’t know.” He whispered
“Oh wow you don’t know, real mature.” She was upset, angry and confused all at the same time. Y/n didn’t understand why he couldn’t just be honest with her.
“I’m sorry okay, I never meant for things to end the way they did.”
“I thought we loved each other.” His chest physically ached at the sadness in her voice he hated himself for it.
“We did, god I still love you.”
“Don’t say that.” She was practically sobbing at this point close to hyperventilating all the emotions she felt the day he left coming back up as well as all the others she’s buried since that day never allowing herself to grieve the loss of the relationship.
“But it’s true, I love you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” Felix told her watching the way her bottom lip quivered as she sniffled her cheeks stained with her mascara
“Then why did you throw it all away?” He almost didn’t hear her the thumping of the music from inside almost swallowed her voice but he always heard her. In the loudest of rooms he always heard her.
“Because I was scared okay! I was scared that if I let myself fall anymore In love with you that you’d get sick of me and you’d leave and that would have killed me.” He finally admitted and her response only made his heart break harder
“You leaving killed me.”
“I’m sorry, god I’m so sorry.” He chocked on his own tears “Please.” His hands are on either side of her face “please let me fix this, I can’t keep living without you.”
“I don’t want you to hurt me again.”
“I promise ill Never hurt you again, I need you back in my life pretty girl.” He begged wiping her tears away
“I don’t know if I trust you anymore Fi.” She whispered just as the door to the party opened snapping them out of the moment
“Y/n, there you are… oh.” Danny said as he stumbled over to them y/n took a step back from Felix wiping her own face as Felix let out a sigh “what’s going on here?” Danny asked
“This hasn’t anything to do with you.” Felix barked at him the liquor in his veins taking its effect on his tolerance of others
“I wasn’t asking you.” Danny snapped back at him “I was asking MY girl.” He emphasised the My knowing it would get under Felix’s skin
“She’s not your girl.” It took everything in Felix not to swing for Danny. The idea of anyone else calling y/n their girl made him sick.
“She’s not yours either.” Danny began moving closer to the pair
“Cut it out both of you.” Y/n said shaking her head “I can’t do this right now.” She attempted to walk away but Felix caught her wrist and just like always she was putty in his hands
“Y/n!” Danny snapped at her making her flinch slightly which only served to piss Felix off more “Are you really doing this?” He asked her
“I’m sorry.” Y/n whispered looking over at Danny who just shook his head walking away before shouting, “You two deserve each other.”
Y/n didn’t say anything before she wrapped herself around Felix her head resting on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her petting her hair softly. The pair stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before she finally broke the silence.
“Can we go home?”
“Anything you want.”
#felix catton x y/n#felix catton#felix catton fanfic#felix catton fluff#felix catton saltburn#felix catton imagine#felix catton x you#felix catton x reader#saltburn imagine#saltburn#felix catton blurb
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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter four )
18+ 5.2k homelander x plus size f!reader. office romance, stalking, voyeurism, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstim, riding. nebulously takes place post s1. part 4/4. AO3 link. CH I CH 2 CH 3
Homelander takes what's his, and you get what's yours.
welcome to the final chapter! thanks so much for reading. i really enjoyed the dynamic between these two, and i hope you do, too. 🖤
Homelander doesn’t hold it against you that you take him up on his suggestion to be absent the following day. He leaves a little peace offering in your office to say as much: a mug for your collection that reads simply, You’ve Been Mugged. He adjusts it seven times on your desk before he finally leaves it alone, surveying your office a while before letting himself out.
The thugs he lasered down in the alley don’t garner much attention, but it’s enough to warrant a statement on the truth of what happened. With them dead, the truth becomes whatever he makes of it, and his truth is that two vagabonds were assaulting a cherished Vought employee before he put a stop to it.
It’s precisely the kind of hero story the public loves.
“I acted on instinct,” he tells the newscaster. He relives the moment as he tells it, recalls only to himself how fierce you had been. How determined you were that if you were going to die, you would die fighting. “They were going to hurt her. I like to believe any good citizen in my position would have done the same.”
Madelyn taught him that conviction without contrition would always read as arrogance, so he speaks firmly but with a furrow to his brow, and he closes his eyes when he inclines his head to accept praise. No matter how dead she is, her voice remains an echo in his mind: follow the script, and you’ll be fine.
They use his words to segue into a discussion of gun control, and Homelander’s mind drifts somewhere distant, hearing without listening to the petty squabbles of humans crying about their little toys and laws. He supposes this is how God feels when humans pray to Him over every minor inconvenience. Bored and painfully above it.
While it’s easy enough to keep himself distracted during business hours, Homelander’s life comes to an abrupt halt alongside the end of the working day. Like the equipment that broadcasts him, there’s little use for him once the cast and crew goes home. All around him the employees commiserate at the end of their work day and pass around invitations to the bar.
He receives none.
Not that he would accept them if he did.
Seeking both council and companionship, Homelander finds himself in Noir’s apartment, seated in the chair Noir keeps for him. It’s the only one the hero owns, what with his interior design being deeply steeped in westernized ninja nonsense. The place is half dojo, half living quarters.
He laments his situation to Noir, explaining his patience in courting you, the lengths he’s gone to endear himself to you on a personal level, and the bitter sting of your rejection.
“See her,” Noir writes in his sketchpad, sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. “If glad to see her, good. If not–”
Homelander snorts at the series of knife sketches that follow. He has no doubt Noir would put an end to anyone for any reason Homelander gave. Simplicity has allowed Noir an unwavering loyalty to Vought, and as an extension, Homelander himself. Luckily for you, he has no interest in that happening.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noir,” he muses, clapping his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “You’re right. I’ll go see her. Thanks, buddy.”
Noir offers two thumbs up. A true uproar of approval.
Under the cover of darkness, Homelander returns to your house, the flight path a familiar one now. He lands silently on your roof this time, cocking his head. He’s not confident he’ll be able to resist your siren pull if he approaches now. He folds his hands behind his back and peers through each layer between him and your bedroom, stopping when he can see you.
You’re nestled deep in the splay of your blankets, lips parted around shallow breaths. He bites his own bottom lip, remembering how badly he’d wanted to feel them. Taste them. He’s certain now that if he allowed himself to be close enough, he would. Denial, for as much as it stung in that moment, has only made him hungrier for you. Fuck, the way he’s craved you from the moment you first brushed him aside.
He watches you shift in your sleep and his eyes narrow, honing in on a familiar flash. His stomach flips–it’s his cape, the fabric pinned between your blanket and your body. You really are sleeping with it, the star spangled blue fabric tucked up under your chin. Do you smell him on it? Homelander groans softly. Like your underwear in his bedside drawer, you sleep with a trophy of your own.
“Fuck,” he says, aching. His heart, his mind, his cock–all of it at once a cacophony of vicious yearning and impatience. The urge to peel the roof like a sardine can and carve his way straight to you nearly knocks the wind out of him, has him preemptively reaching for the shingled surface.
Only the lingering wound to his ego gives him pause. He’s been bitten once, leaving him shy to instigate, but this revelation feels like progress. You’re aching for him as much as he is for you. He’s sure of that now. It’s time that he made you feel that ache. Feel his absence. Then you’ll realize the foolishness of your coy game.
Clenching his jaw defiantly, Homelander lifts up into the sky.
He’ll be benevolent when you come to your senses.
The next day, Homelander keeps himself scarce, preoccupied. Ashley is perkier than usual, thrilled–if not suspicious–with his easy participation in whatever inane business she brings to him. It helps distract him from the endless feeling of waiting that he’s enduring.
He sticks stubbornly to his schedule, fantasizing about the torment his avoidance has surely wrought. He’s tempted a time or two to break, but each time he remembers the mortified Oh! you uttered before he kissed you, he refocuses himself.
You’ll come.
Not before lunch, but that is the perfect opportunity for it. He makes himself more available then, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.
No sign of you.
He gives you the benefit of the doubt. A meal to embolden you.
Then you’ll come.
He waits.
Lunch long since over.
He waits.
The day is winding down.
He’s fucking tired of waiting.
Where the hell are you? He’s given you the entirety of the day to seek him out, ample opportunity to come thank him for his gift, to address the aching thing ruminating between you. You’d be a fucking liar to say you don’t feel it, too. By midday, he’s seething with impatience and hurt. There’s no chance he’s going to let you stand him up.
It’s precisely the wrong time for Ashley to rear her head back up. “Okay! That’s that, now regarding the amnesty for–”
“Ashley!” He snaps, a harsh and throaty sound. “Would you shut the fuck up?”
She stops in her tracks, staring wide-eyed. Of course it was too good to be true.
Homelander all but leaps to his feet, pushing out of his chair so hard that it flips backwards and into the wall in a heavy clatter. She clutches her vPad to her chest and quickly back steps out of his way, watching in frightened bewilderment as he storms from the room, making a beeline towards your office.
He doesn’t bother knocking this time. Still, his restraint is undeniable when he pushes your door open. He barely catches himself from pushing the damn thing clean off the hinges.
Your head snaps up from your computer, eyes wide. He hears your heart jump and he savors the alarm that shoots through you. Payback for the awful misery you forced him to endure in the hours since he last saw you. Still, the sight of you disarms him. For all his seething anger, there is something small in him that retreats it when your eyes are on him.
There’s a heaviness to your gaze that his strength can do nothing to alleviate. No incredible feat of his can wrench away what it is he wants from you. What he needs. It’s something you have to give him willingly, and that alone is enough to temper his rage. The familiar fear that you won’t.
He marches to the front of your desk and levels an accusatory finger on you.
“You like me,” he hisses, bending to brace his opposite hand on your desk.
You blink owlishly, lips parted. That clearly wasn’t what you expected him to say. He’s not sure it’s what he meant to say. “Homelander–”
“No,” he says, voice pitched low, a warning. “No, no. No games, no workarounds. You like me. You do. And I like you. So,” he abandons his point to make a vague encompassing gesture, but he doesn’t know what to say next. He didn’t think this far ahead. All day he had practiced the calm benevolence he would show when you approached him, chastised and yearning. He has nothing to back up this frenzied play for.
You stand. Homelander rises to his full height with you, jutting his chin out. He watches you with all the wariness of a wounded predator as you circle around your desk, your hand gliding along the wood like you would flank a horse so as not to spook it.
He can’t determine the intent behind your gaze. He angles his body towards you, facing you head on. You look like yourself again, in your element and free from the fawn fear of the alley. He can’t entirely decide which way he prefers you. When you were in his arms, he was your hero. In your office, his position feels more precarious.
The silence stretches on for hours–or seconds, it’s impossible to say–before he can no longer stand it. Sucking in a breath, he–
You kiss him.
Homelander goes shock still, hyper aware of your lips pressed feather light to his, your breasts against his chest, your hand on his forearm. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he senses when you begin to pull away.
In a flash he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in deep, inhaling sharply, like he’s only just remembered how to breathe. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you as if he can trap you in the cycle of it. You don’t resist, you don’t tense. Instead, you sigh an angel’s breath against his lips. Only then does he break to look at you.
“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered, flushed.
“I do like you,” you say, eyes glassy.
His brows pinch. “But… That night–”
“Wasn’t right,” you interrupt. “I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not then. Not because you saved me, not because I was in shock, not because of…” you rock your head side to side. “Whatever other bullshit… You let me down that night.”
“Let you down?” Homelander echoes, taken aback. “By saving your life?” He asks, his temper a perpetual simmer ready to flare. He’s immediately tempered by your hands taking his wrists, squeezing. You hold his gaze and your expression is gentle, but there is a firmness in your stare that he finds intoxicating. Not an ounce of fear, even when his anger emerges.
Good. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. He saved you.
“I was shaken. Badly. My date was an entitled asshole, those men, they tried to…” You shake your head, holding his hands to your face. “I didn’t need you to be a man. I needed you to be a hero. I wasn’t ready.”
A light in Homelander’s eyes flicks on. You just weren’t ready. He’d been right after all. He fixates on that, choosing to forgive you for that, at least.
“Well, why didn’t… You could have said something,” he says, feeling like a deflated hot air balloon, all slack expansion and heat with no purpose.
“I would have,” you say, your cheeks soft and round in his hands, lips slightly puckered from his hold on your face. “But you ran away.”
“What? I–” He laughs incredulously. “I did not run away.”
“Flew away,” you say, pushing in to kiss him again. He screws his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck. He’s been dreaming of this, aching for it. To feel you against him, wanting him as much as he wants you. “Pretty fast, too. Looked like you shot straight up to the moon,” you say, breath hot and sweet on his lips.
“I…” He swallows, hands slipping down to either side of your neck, thumbs tilting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I wanted you,” he says, trailing his parted lips along your jaw, kissing and breathing you in the way he’s craved to. He can feel your skin growing hot against his lips, hear the uptick of your pulse as your heart begins to race.
“Do you still want me?” You ask, voice lower now. It sends a delicious hot pang all the way through him.
“You have no fucking idea,” he murmurs, nipping at the lobe of your ear, desperate to test the give of you under his teeth, the feel of your soft and yielding flesh branded into his memory the moment his lips touched your skin.
A knock snaps his attention away from you, but it isn’t at the door. He looks down and sees that it’s you knocking on your desk.
“So take me,” you say, voice laced with heat. His lips split into a wicked grin. He snatches the edge of your heavy wooden desk and effortlessly tips it backwards until everything slides off of it, clattering to the floor. He lifts you up, relishing your delighted little yelp, and places you down on the cleared surface like a doll, stepping in between your legs.
He kisses you again. Let me in, demands the press of his tongue. You yield to him, but it’s far from a surrender. Your tongue meets his eagerly, tasting him as much as he does you. Tasting you. That’s what he wants. He wants to map every inch of you with his tongue.
Homelander slips his hand between your legs, pushing your skirt up out of the way. He presses his fingers to the heat between your thighs, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties. You sigh that same seraphic sound against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair, already taking a handful of it to tug gently.
He breaks the kiss and takes his fingers from you after the barest tease of pleasure. The impatient sound you make goes straight to his cock, as does your flustered expression. He brings his fingers to his lips and drags his tongue over the leather of them, sliding them past his lips to give a quick suck. It’s not enough, too slight a hint of you. He needs more. You watch him with rapt attention, giving his hair a demanding little tug.
“You can pull as hard as you like,” he tells you with a smile, tilting his head against the grasp you have on his hair. “Tells me I’m doing a good job.”
“I’ll tell you when you’re doing a good job,” you rasp, giving his hair a sharp pull and then a downward push. That sends a shiver down his spine.
Fuck yes.
Homelander sinks down onto his knees, lifting each of your legs up over his shoulders. You give a little gasp when he yanks your ass to the edge of the desk, giddy with the way he manhandles you. He swallows, mouth dry, thirsty for the wet, heady smell of your pussy. He maneuvers his head under your skirt until he’s close enough to drag his tongue up the soft cotton of your panties. Your breath hitches and your grip in his hair tightens while you egg him on with sharp little rolls of your hips.
He closes his eyes, giving a rumbling moan for the taste of you, even through the fabric. He laps until the fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, and he can feel your clit swollen and stiff on his tongue through your panties. He closes his mouth over it, sucking you through your underwear while you writhe above him, keeping yourself quiet.
That won’t do.
He wants to hear you.
He wants the whole fucking Tower to hear you.
Hooking the crotch of your panties with his finger, it only takes one sharp little tug to tear them, exposing you to him.
“Homelander,” you moan. The sound of it lances a spear of heat through him, leaves his cock throbbing needily in the rigid confines of his cup. He groans into you, rocking his hips against the empty air. The only proper answer is to dive in, to close his lips around your clit and finally suck the rich nectar of your cunt without the filter of fabric between you. You taste even better than you smell, like salt and sex and sweet ripe fruit. It overwhelms his senses immediately, his eyelids flickering.
The more he laps at you, the silkier your pussy becomes. Between circling your clit, he drives his tongue deep into you, drinking you down noisily and messily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. Your thick thighs are tight on either side of his head, your pulse pounding in his ears. He moans low and wicked for the taste and feel of you.
Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. “F-fuck, your tongue feels-feels fucking unreal,” you moan, grinding down against it. The strength of it, the slight thrum of restrained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina is driving you wild against his mouth. “Fingers, use your fingers,” you tell him. He loves the rawness of your voice, the authority and desperation in your demand.
Removing one of his gloves, he moves his bare hand to the sweltering wetness of you, teasing his finger just below where his tongue is rubbing your clit. His index finger slips easily into the slick mess, and he savors the quiver of your velvet walls around it. He lets you ride his finger, stays all but still while you greedily bounce your hips, both hands fisted in his hair. You use him for your pleasure, and it makes him delirious with want.
Homelander's gaze flickers up. He peers through the layer of your skirt to catch a look at you, to watch you while you cannot watch him. You’re losing track of yourself, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivering with each flick of his tongue and dive of his finger. Euphoria looks good on you.
Christ, he has been patient. He would chastise himself for waiting so long to touch you, to taste you, to feel you, but he can’t bring himself to. The wait gifted him with this exquisite hunger, and he proved something important; you both yearn for the other. You crave him. He can see it in your hazy eyes, taste it in the spill of your sweet cunt.
You belong to him. He needs only to take you.
One finger becomes two, and then three. Your heels dig into his shoulders and fuck yourself down on them, moaning recklessly now, not caring who hears you. It’s music to his ears.
“Fuck, Homelander, I-I’m coming, I’m-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you beg prettily. You don’t need to, but he enjoys the song anyway. He laps at your clit in quick upward pulls of his tongue, lips creating a seal around it. His brows furrow tightly, his own neglected arousal pounding through his body like a wardrum, but he doesn’t touch himself, too focused on you.
Your whole body locks up tight when you come, breath caught in your lungs, your clit fluttering delicately. He presses his tongue to it, savoring the taste of your euphoria, how it floods your system and changes the flavor of you. Your pleasure grows his hunger into something monstrous, something demanding, but there is satiation at least in bringing you this, in showing you all the things he will be for you.
You’ll never want for anyone–or anything– else ever again.
Homelander doesn’t stop. You begged him not to. He finger-fucks you through the aftershocks, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, stroking you inside and out while your cunt squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he feels you pushing him away, your sweet songbird moans sounding more like whimpers, oversensitized. He withdraws his fingers, giving one last noisy slurp before emerging from beneath your skirt. His face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown black. He's panting, looking every bit like a beast lifting its bloodied head from the belly of its kill.
Crawling up your body, still predator hungry, he rests his knee on the desk between your legs. He cups either side of your face, fingertips digging possessively into the back of your neck. He meets your eyes, pinning you with the intensity of his gaze, wordlessly drilling into your mind that this moment, this feeling, this tingling warmth in your body is him.
I did this to you, his expression reads. You’re on my lips, he says by pressing them to yours, kissing your own taste into your mouth, his body throbbing, desperate for an ounce of that same relief. You’re mine.
To his amazement, your eyes mirror his own savage hunger. You kiss him hard, shamelessly licking into his mouth, huffing shallow breaths from your nose. “Lie down,” you tell him, voice as sweet and coarse as raw sugar. “I’m going to ride you.”
Homelander doesn’t need to be told twice. Exhilarated, he rolls over, flipping you with him and steadying you above him in a fluid motion. The desk isn’t as long as he is tall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already half suspended in the air with his own excitement, helping you with overly eager hands that fumble alongside yours with his belt, which falls to the ground with a distinct thud. He gives a little jump at the voracity you rip his zipper down with, grinning.
Together, you shuck his pants down to his thighs. You grip him through his red briefs, a fractured moan falling from his lips.
“Cute underwear,” you coo. His cheeks flush to almost the same shade. You flatten your palm over his cock and he bites back a whimper, teeth sinking into his tongue. You give a light squeeze, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, and he lets out a rough breath. “You feel close,” you tell him, stroking him in a loose fist, your hand warm, the fabric soft.
He nods fervently, the friction and your voice already teetering him towards the edge. He makes a sound of both anguish and relief when you release him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. You tug his underwear down, his cock bouncing free, engorged and dripping precome.
“Don’t move,” you tell him, bracing one hand on his chest and sliding forward, your other hand moving between your bodies to steady his cock against the rapturously hot press of your soaked cunt. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips biting into the softness of your body. You allow him that, focused entirely on the act of taking him into you. The fat head of his cock it slips inside, evoking a sweet little gasp from you, and Homelander fights not to slam in the rest of the way.
Both of your hands fall to his chest, your eyes meeting his. He holds your gaze, mouth twitching around silent sharp breaths. He watches you sink slowly down the length of him, engulfing him in such sublime rapture it’s a wonder he doesn’t come right then and there for the feel of you alone. His grip on your hips flexes and he gives a sharp little thrust up, forgetting himself to the divine feel of your pussy.
“I said don’t move,” you remind him breathlessly. God, you’re beautiful like this. The fluorescent light behind your head haloes you, giving you the look of a debauched angel he plucked from the heavens to have and keep as his own. He expects you to move, to bounce yourself on his cock like you did his mouth and his fingers. He wants to watch your tits bounce, see your face clearly when you come on his cock, but the only part of you that moves is your hand.
His gaze drops and quickly darkens, watching intently as you stroke your clit. The initial contact alone makes you jerk, makes your pussy spasm and squeeze him so good he almost chokes on it. Your only response is to sigh, tipping your head back and spreading your legs a little wider, taking him deeper. He wants so badly to fuck you, to slam you down and rail you until your desk cracks in half.
“Mmmm, fuck,” you moan, rubbing yourself in circles, the lewd noise of it loud and irresistible to his ears. “Fuck, fuck–ah, god,” you start to pant, head falling forward, brows tightly pinched. You’re so sensitive after the assault of his mouth, the flavor of you still fresh on his tongue. The faster your fingers move, the closer he feels you get, the clench around his cock steadily tightening. He wants to thrash, but you keep him pinned in place with your look of expectation and pleasure. You’re getting off on him as much as you are your own fingers, on the swell and throb of his cock inside you, on the sheer power you hold over a god.
You’re loud when you come, nails clawing into the chest of his suit. Homelander’s eyes roll back, lips parted on a soundless cry of his own. The spasming heat of your release is too much and he loses himself to it, eyes flaring up with crimson light as he comes with you, every shudder of your climax stroking and milking him of his own, flooding you with his own wet mess.
His restraint breaks with the dam and he sits up abruptly, startling a noise from you, which he swallows with a hard kiss, cupping the back of your head. He holds you still and he fucks you, lifting from the desk entirely so that he alone supports your weight, driving you deeper onto his cock. Your legs tighten on either side of him, shaking.
Out of his mind with pleasure, he tears your blouse open with his teeth, diving in close to lick, suck and bite at your chest. He buries his face between your breasts, holding you tightly as he fucks you both through your respective orgasms, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in your office.
Hitching your legs properly around his waist, he bounces you on his cock until the pleasure borders on pain and a secondary shock rolls through him like another orgasm, stealing his breath. Only then does he finally slow, mouthing languidly at your chest until he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He moans against you, grinding to an eventual halt. You comb your fingers through his hair and goosebumps erupt across his body, which shivers in the euphoric aftermath.
He loses track of how long he stays suspended like that, lost to the overwhelm of sensation. Your legs go slack while his angles slightly upward, his face pressed to your chest, your head resting atop his. He nuzzles at you, bleary eyed and slack with pleasure. He kisses a trail up to your clavicle, your throat, your jaw, smiling in the loose, easy way that only a good fuck can never make him.
“Wow,” he says after a while, voice thoroughly frayed.
You giggle, groggily lifting your head. He adjusts until you can relax against his chest, fold your forearms across it and settling your chin atop them, admiring him. He touches your face with his ungloved hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, then the curve of your bottom lip. His smile widens when you kiss the pad of his thumb.
“Wow indeed,” you say, swinging your legs lightly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked mid-air.”
“One of the many benefits of dating me,” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. He kisses you again, drifting slowly back down, unhurried.
Your brows lift lazily. “Who says we’re dating?” You ask, but your smile keeps his hackles from rising.
“Me,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. He lands gently on the desk, helping you to it. “You and I are officially going steady.”
You give a thoughtful hum, carefully untangling your limbs from his. You slide off of the desk while he puts himself back together, your knees trembling faintly. “Fairly sure asking someone out requires a question mark. You know. The asking part. You didn’t even buy me dinner.” You attempt to button up your shirt, but it’s obviously a lost cause.
He exhales a quiet laugh, pulling you back into his arms. “Well, I certainly ate.”
“God,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but they don’t stray from him for long. There’s a sparkle to your gaze that he wants to capture in his palm and never set loose.
“Will you go out with me?” He asks, lips brushing yours.
“Mmmmmmmm….” You hum once more, drawing it out, feigning a great deliberation. “There’s something you should know first.”
He quirks a brow. “What’s that?”
“My guilty pleasure,” you say, nose bumping his.
Intrigued, he inclines his head to prompt you to continue. Can’t be worse than mine.
“Superheroes,” you say conspiratorially. “Can’t get enough of them. Loved them my whole life. Especially this one in particular…”
He breaks into a frayed, charmed laugh. “Let me guess, name starts with an H?”
You suck in a breath through your teeth, lips curved downward in a mock grimace, and nod subtly. “ Total fangirl. Embarrassing, right?”
Homelander shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt guilty about pleasure. Where’s the harm in it?”
The harm inflicted on those thugs couldn’t count. They had it coming.
“Harm to my pride, my ego, my reputation,” you list, tapping his suit to punctuate each one. “I made a pretty big fuss about not liking you. I had myself convinced that my Homelander only existed in my fantasies, and you were just the guy who plays him.”
My Homelander. The words stir an unexpectedly sentimental surge of emotion that wells up from somewhere deep in his chest. He clears his throat lightly. “What’s the verdict now?”
You sweep him with an appraising gaze. “Still deliberating.”
He clicks his tongue, nodding. “I don’t suppose I could arrange a meeting with the jury?”
“They’re available for dinner tomorrow,” you say, the tilt of your lips sly.
“It’s a date,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You kiss him, pressing your smile to his. He doubts he’ll ever tire of the softness of your lips, or the easy way you melt against him. He wraps his arms around you, content to let this moment pass only because he knows there will be more to come. He’s determined to make every one of them better than the last.
All of the pleasure, none of the guilt.
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4AM (Drabble)
Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost
A/N: A little peek into Hubby’s mind. I’m working on a longer piece but here’s a taste for the starving.
Summary: Javier reflects on fatherhood while comforting his son.
Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)
Tags: Domestic, Javier loves his family, Javi POV, life with a tiny baby!!
Word count: 1.5k
4AM
It’s like clockwork when Lucas’ cries start echoing through the hallway in the early hours. Four in the morning and no sooner or later. You could set an alarm to wake you up at this point but each time there’s the slightest hope that it’s going to be at five the next time.
You wake first. A moment later, you hear Javier wake up beside you with a sharp intake of air. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger, “Whose turn is it?”
“It’s four a.m. He’s probably hungry,” you say with a groan and try desperately not to let your eyes close for too long, “Jesus, I’m tired.”
Lucas sounds desperate with how he sobs, hiccupping unhappily at not feeling either of you close yet. You feel bad for not having left your bed already, reaching for the covers to throw them to the side. Javier looks like he is just about to turn onto his other side but he sits up instead, “Let me. You just go back to sleep, baby. I’ll heat a bottle or bring him here if he’s hungry.”
He swings his legs out over the side of the bed, his movements slow with the kind of sleepiness that only comes from not waking up by oneself but rather being woken up by something or someone.
“Javi,” you try to protest.
“I mean it. Go back to sleep,” he stands up with a small noise, shuffling out of the room and down the hallway to avoid more protests from you. He works so much and you stay here with his infant son all day; it’s the least he can do. Plus, he wants to get all the quality time with his baby boy that he can, even when he’s miserable from sleep deprivation.
He stops and takes a deep breath right before pushing the door to Lucas’ nursery fully open. There’s a soft glow from the night light by the bed, a lamp shaped like a half-moon that shines a golden yellow over the crib to soothe.
“Hola, mi amor (hello, my love),” he says when he leans over the side of the crib to look down at his wailing son. Lucas’ hair is dark and tousled much like his own, his eyes are big and brown but right now, his face is also tear-streaked and red from exhaustion to the point where it tugs at Javier’s heartstrings. He shushes gently as he scoops his infant into his hands with practiced ease, holding underneath his arms and supporting his head with his fingers. He bounces gently when he has Lucas cradled against his bare chest. In his head, Javier goes through his usual checklist to make the crying stop but he finds that his son is neither hungry, gassy, or in need of a diaper change. He tuts softly and paces the room to make him settle.
“Did you have a nightmare?” He asks when the wails subside and turn into soft whimpering instead. The tiny hands on his chest curl up and as the sobbing stops, Lucas seems to find comfort in the familiar scent and warmth of his father. Javier kisses the top of his head, speaking gently while still bouncing carefully, “Don’t worry, I get those too sometimes but your mamá is right there with me when I do just like I am here with you. You’re always safe with us.”
Javier is floored each time he manages to soothe his baby boy. It’s a reminder that he is doing a great job despite all the doubts he had during your pregnancy, the introspection, and the constant fear that your softness hadn’t changed him enough after Colombia to be a good father.
It seems so long ago since he was living an adrenaline-fuelled and cruel life miles away from the quiet suburban life he now leads in Texas. Sometimes, he even feels like everything that happened in Colombia are experiences that belong to a whole different person. This is even if there are still nights when he wakes up in a cold sweat, his whole body aching, feeling claustrophobic, and his poor old heart racing with memories of the things he's seen and done.
The hope of everything that he has with you had always existed beneath the layer of women and booze but Lucas is the true reason for letting go of his past. He doesn’t think he has ever felt so much fulfillment in anything until he held the tiny little boy against his chest for the first time and a nurse told him that he was a natural. He sobbed when you had gone to sleep, leaving him alone with your shared creation and he just couldn’t take his eyes off him. He doesn’t think he ever thought that his heart was capable of feeling so much unconditional love for anything. He still marvels at how his chest aches every time he looks into his son’s eyes.
Lucas has drifted off to sleep in his arms by now, breaths having slowed down and eyes having fluttered closed. Javier paces around the room for a few more minutes just to make sure, and then he walks back to the bassinet and gently lays the baby down on his back.
However, as soon as Lucas loses the warmth of his father’s embrace, his eyes shoot open and the crying restarts. He writhes and hiccups and kicks the blanket off.
Javier sighs softly but there’s a smile on his face as he does it. He picks him up once again and the routine starts over, “So that’s what you needed, huh? No llores. Estoy aquí. No voy a ningún lado (Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere)."
He is so tired as he promises this, eyelids burning from exhaustion when knows he doesn’t have to be up for another three hours and they could be spent on sleeping. It doesn’t reflect what he wants though because sleep is nothing compared to hearing those cries ebb out until they stop altogether. He feels triumphant each time.
He walks to the corner of the room where an old and slightly weathered rocking chair stands. It used to be in his father’s home, more specifically on the back porch, but he received it as a gift after his pop found out he was going to be a grandfather.
He slowly lowers himself into it. The gentle motion back and forth has Lucas falling asleep once again. Javier can feel his chest rise and fall in time with his son’s and it’s so soothing that he allows himself to relax. He closes his eyes, becomes aware of their synchronized heartbeats, and then passes out with the little bundle on top of him.
In your bedroom, you wake up an hour later to pee only to find that Javier still hasn’t returned after getting up. You concentrate on listening for your baby’s cries but there is nothing to be heard. After going to the bathroom, your feet take you down the hall and into the nursery just in case Javier needs you to take over rocking your son for a while.
You find them both fast asleep and it is a relief that there’s no distress after all. It makes you smile to see them like this, looking so alike despite the age difference between them. Tiptoeing across the floor to gently place a hand on Javier’s shoulder, you wake up your husband with the intention of not disturbing your son. He stirs at your touch and looks up at you with tired but content eyes.
“Looks like you both fell asleep,” you whisper to him gently. Absent-mindedly, you stroke your hand up and down Lucas’ back.
“I didn’t mean to,” Javier blinks sleepily, reaching up with one hand to rub his eye, “Seems like he didn’t need anything.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s not true,” you cut him off with a shake of your head and a soft laugh, “He needed you.”
There’s a pause. Javier almost looks like he might drift off again. You carefully lift Lucas from his arms, “Let’s get you back to bed. Both of you.”
You lay Lucas back in his bassinet, rubbing his belly with the palm of your hand before tucking the blankets around him snugly. He stirs but only briefly and then settles back into a peaceful slumber, his tiny fingers curling around the edge of his covers.
Behind you, Javier has gotten up from his seat. You turn to him and wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both stand there in the soft glow of the nursery. It goes on for a minute or so, none of you saying anything.
Together, you quietly leave the room. In bed, Javier holds you protectively in his embrace during the last few hours he has with you. He leans to kiss your lips tenderly, “Te quiero tanto, baby (I love you so much, baby).”
“Y yo a ti (I love you too),” you reply and earn him squeezing you even tighter, “Para siempre (forever).”
Being a first-time parent is hard, you know this, but it’s not as hard when four a.m. I love yous are involved.
.
.
.
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🧸 maxiel baby taking its first steps? Thank you for writing such amazing blurbs!
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
.
As much as the boys loved racing, the winter break was eagerly awaited for both Max and Daniel.
They adored their job. They adored that they were able to do the thing they dreamed of doing their whole lives. They adored that they were lucky enough to be on the same team, be by each other’s side and help each other through what could be a taxing and rough racing season.
But, fuck, did they miss their little family.
It had just been before the end of the last race season when the three of you welcomed Beatrice Ricciardo-Verstappen into the world. And now almost a year later, they were eager to have an undisturbed three months with their daughter and with you, after neither of you were able to visit the different races over the season.
“My little bumble bee,” Daniel cooed as he prepped kisses on his daughter’s chubby cheeks as she giggled and laughed. Beatrice wiggled in her father’s arms but he just continued until the sound of her laughter was echoing through the apartment. “Oh, I missed that sound.”
“You’re hogging her,” Max complained as he sat on the other side of the carpet, both of them surrounded by most of her toys they had dragged out from the nursery into the living room. “This isn't fair. I missed her too.”
“I missed her more,” Daniel teased, only for the Dutchman to let out a scoff.
“Put her down and I bet she will crawl over to me,” Max announced, puffing his chest out a little.
Daniel’s eyes lit up. “I’ll bet you nappy duty that she crawls to me instead.”
Max smirked a little. “Deal.”
“You both are ridiculous,” you stated as you walked into the room, shaking your head as you saw the boys place Beatrice in the centre of the room before moving to different sides. “She loves you both, is that not enough?”
“No,” they both answered at the same time.
“Give me peace,” you grumbled under your breath as you took a seat on the couch, waiting to see the event unfold whilst knowing full well one of your boys was going to be pissy in a few minutes.
However, the last thing any of you were expecting was for little Beatrice to start pushing to stand up. And you especially didn’t expect her to start taking wobbly steps towards the couch where you were sitting whilst the three of you gaped proudly at your little girl.
You didn’t even realise you were crying until the warm tears ran down your cheeks as you swooped her in your arms, kisses and mumbled praises pressed against her cheeks as the boys quickly clambered over to the couch.
“What a smart girl,” Max praised as Beatrice reached out to him, a big toothy smile as she accepted her father’s cuddles and praises.
“Little Bumble Bee is learning how to fly,” Daniel murmured, his eyes wet but his grin huge as he watched his partner coddle the baby.
“Shut up,” you muttered, swatting his arm. “You’re gonna make me cry harder.”
“She is gonna be buzzing away soon.”
“One more comment from you and you’re stuck on nappy duty for the whole week.”
.
#cece's slumblurb party#maxiel#max verstappen#daniel ricciardo#formula one#f1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fic#max verstappen one shot#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x y/n#daniel ricciardo fic#daniel ricciardo one shot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot
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Hi! Can I request poly hcs of yandere bayverse Optimus Prime & Megatron with fem reader. Could you possibly add some fluff? Thank you, love ur blog! 💕✨
Bayverse Poly! Yandere Optimus Prime X Reader X Megatron
A little longer than I meant, oops-
You’re Sam Witwickey’s sibling. You were more well-read than your brother, and much more polite. When Sam said that he was going to sell your great-great grandfather’s glasses, you were appalled. You immediately snatched them away from him.
“These are antique! So are these!” You snatched other items up. “You can’t sell them, bozo!”
“But I need the money! For the car!” Sam tried to grab them back.
“What if I paid for a portion of it?”
Sam halted his movements. “What?”
You huffed. “I’ll pay for some of the car- but YOU have to make sure to give me rides sometime.”
“YES!” He coughed, “I mean, yeah. Sure. You’re my sibling, of course you’d get rides.”
Then it happened- you met the Decepticons on the way to get the glasses fixed up. You dropped them off at the small antique shop and began your walk home.
A patrol car’s lights went off next to you, and you pulled off to the side into an alleyway. What shocked you the most, however, was when it transformed into a literal robot. You felt dizzy and collapsed to the ground unconscious.
“Frag.” Barricade muttered, pressing his servo to his helm. “Barricade to Starscream. I have the human, but they are unconscious.”
“Bring them to me.” Starscream ordered.
Before Barricade could respond, a loud honk echoed around the alley and a semi slammed into him. Optimus quickly transformed and snatched you off the ground, handing you off to Bumblebee. “Get them to safety!”
Bumblebee drove off with you in tow, and Sam quickly shook you awake. “Sam?” You asked. “What happened?” You suddenly remembered the giant robot that had forced you into the alleyway. “The robot-!”
“Yeah, there’s a few of them. I’ll explain in a bit- where are the glasses?”
“Back at the antique shop… why?”
Right after you went back to grab the glasses, you met the others. The situation was explained to you, and you were scared. You just wanted to go home and sleep. Unfortunately, as soon as you got home, people from ‘sector seven’ were there to take you away.
You sat crying in the backseat as Sam and Mikela tried to comfort you. “It’ll be okay, (Y/N).”
“No it won’t!” Simmons said from the front seat. “Not unless you tell us what you kn-”
The car slammed forward. Optimus ripped off the roof of the car. “Taking the children and (Y/N) was a bad move.”
Optimus scooped you up to sit you on his shoulder, holding their weapons on the aggressors the entire time.
When Sam and Mikela got taken, you stayed with Optimus. Once you all discovered where the allspark was, the Autobots began the journey there- you in tow. You wanted to go home, but Optimus wouldn’t let you. He said it was too dangerous to let you go back home.
During the trip, you and Optimus talked a lot. You both got to know each other really well. Despite it only being a few days, you developed a crush on him.
During the battle, Optimus gave you and Sam an order- push the Allspark into his chest, and kill him. You shook your head as Sam moved to do as he was told.
“NO, SAM!” You snatched it away. You looked at Megatron and brought the cube near him.
A wicked grin appeared on his faceplates, and he held his servo out. “Good, yes, human! Bring it to me!”
A sadness painted your face. Yes, Megatron was evil- but you never wanted to take a life. “I”m sorry,” You whispered. Megatron’s face contorted in rage as you shoved the allspark into his chest.
Before he died, he looked into your eyes. “I’ll get you for this, human!”
You never recovered from taking a life. Optimus was thankfully there for you, and you both grew extremely close. You were one of the few civilians permitted on the base, often helping out. Your official title was ‘liaison’. Even Galloway liked you.
You were visiting Sam when the Decepticon attacked. You were all running for your lives, with you not understanding a thing of what was going on. Mikela’s car was swept up into the air by a helicopter. You were screaming loudly as it took you all away, and screamed even louder when the car was dropped through a roof and sawed into.
Everyone stood up as Starscream spit at you. A deep voice came from behind you all. “Come here, boy.” Megatron hissed. Sam began walking towards him with his hands up. “Closer.”
“Sam, no.” You whispered in fear. Megatron’s eyes met yours for the first time since you took his life. Your body froze as still as you could make it.
Before you could say anything Megatron grabbed you up from where you were standing and held you in his servo. Sam yelled out your name. “SHUT UP!” Megatron yelled and slapped Sam across the room.
“SAM!” You and Mikela shouted in fear. “Don’t hurt him! Please!” You begged.
Megatron simply ignored you and pinned Sam down with his over servo. “It feels good to grab your flesh. I’m going to kill you. Slowly- painfully- but first, we have some delicate work to do.” Sam kept struggling as Megatron mocked him. “Ohhh, I could snap your limbs off.”
You struggled in the servo you were tightly held in. “Wait! It was me that killed you, so let him go! He didn’t do anything!”
Megatron squeezed you tighter in his grasp. “Oh, I have something much better planned for you. Now wait your turn.” You struggled to breath as the air left your lungs. Just before you passed out, he loosened his grip. It was a warning- if you weren’t quiet, he’d knock you out.
You watched in horror as a minicon send a small bug into Sam’s mouth. You had to look away in fear you’d throw up from the sight. In your mind you were hoping for Optimus to find you, to save you.
Your prayers were answered as Optimus and Bumblebee came slamming through into the building firing off shots. Megatron quickly stashed you in his subspace and began fighting Optimus.
You were thrown around in the tight space and you hoped that Optimus would figure out you were in there. Sounds were muffled, but you could make out sounds of blasting. Soon enough, the sounds faded. The subspace opened and you were taken out into the sunlight. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they did your heart stopped in your chest.
On the ground before you was Optimus- a giant hole in his chest. He was obviously dead. You felt tears well up in your eyes as a wail left your throat.
“You’re mine now, human. Optimus will never be able to save you again.”
Megatron took you with him to his hideout. He was originally going to use you to make Sam come out of hiding, but he soon realized why Optimus kept you around. You were smart for your race, and offered fairly good advice (even if said advice was forced out with the threat of violence). The Fallen left you alone, seeing the logic in a living hostage.
In your short time there, Megatron had begun to grow feelings for you. He didn’t bother denying them- he was a Decepticon. If there was something he wanted, he’d take it.
After his defeat and the Fallen’s death in Egypt, Megatron offered Optimus a deal he couldn’t pass up.
“Why don’t we share them? Frag this war, and just hide away?”
Optimus glared at him. “Do you really expect me to believe you?”
Megatron chuckled. “You can either accept it, or never see them again, Prime.”
Optimus had no choice but to accept. They hid out on a small island, inhabited with nothing but animals. You were protected as long as you were with them. You also had plenty of books, food, and water. Anything you asked for, except your freedom, was given to you.
However, at night, when everyone was resting, you were building a raft. You had a book that they gave you that had some basic instructions. When you set off, the raft was surprisingly sturdy. Your supplies were enough to last for a few days- hopefully when you would find someone to help you.
When you heard the familiar sound of a jet, tears filled your eyes. You shouldn’t have even bothered to try. Megatron scooped you up and brought you back. When you got there, Optimus was waiting with a horrible glare on his face.
“Where did you think you were going?” He growled.
Tears fell before you could stop them. “I just wanted to see my family! My friends!”
Optimus and Megatron felt a smidgen of guilt. Megatron held you closer as Optimus lifted your chin to make you look at him, a gentle smile on his faceplates. “And you will see them,” he petted your hair a little, “When you learn to behave. I can’t allow them to take you from me-”
“Us.” Megatron growled.
Optimus glanced at him and back to you. “Us. You are ours. We won’t let you get away.”
Megatron chimed in with a sadistic grin on his faceplates. “If you ever try again, I’ll lock you away so you’ll never see the sun again. Understand?”
All you could do is nod as a soft smile came to Optimus’ faceplates. “Good.”
#transformers#transformers bayverse#bayverse#bay#tfb#optimus prime#optimus#megatron#fallen#bumblebee#transformers x reader#transformers bayverse x reader#bayverse x reader#optimus prime x reader#optimus x reader#megatron x reader#yandere megatron#yandere optimus#yandere optimus prime#maccaddams#yandere bayverse optimus prime#yandere bayverse megatron#yandere bayverse optimus#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere optimus prime x reader#yandere optimus x reader#yandere megatron x reader#yandere megatron x reader x yandere optimus prime#tw yandere
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day 5 ; nipple play
↠ alicent hightower x reader
fandom: house of the dragon
word count: 835
warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader, reader has a large chest, semi-public sexual acts
kinktober m.list || read on ao3
You always took notice of how the Dowager Queen Alicent would always come visit her grandchildren whenever you were taking care of them. After the first couple of times, it no longer became a coincidence wherever she would stop by the room when it was just you and the babes.
Today, however, was the first time she visited when your breasts were out, feeding the twins, one suckled on each nipple.
“I apologize for my indecency, my Queen—” you start before she holds a hand up.
“No need for that. It was my intrusion, dear.” Alicent sends you a shaky smile, and you can’t help but notice how her eyes always manage to flicker downwards. You have had a large chest ever since you were young, and by this point in your life you can tell when people are leering at your breasts.
You never would’ve guessed the Dowager Queen would be one of those people.
She stands proudly in front of you, chin tilted up. She dons her signature Hightower green, and her hair lays down in soft waves, her youthfulness still shining through. With her kids having babes of their own, you always forgot how close to age the two of you are.
Yet her eyes tell a much different story than her posture, holding in much curiosity and a speck of shame. You’ve seen this before with various women you’ve been entangled with. The hesitancy to admit their attraction towards another person of their sex, something frowned upon all across Westeros.
“Would you like to see them?” You gesture to the twins, who you hold in each arm.
She remains silent, avoiding your eyes. You can see the way she bites the inside of her cheek, as if contemplating what to say to you. But you already know what you came here looking for.
Just give her a knowing glance. “I’ll put them down for a quick nap.”
After you get the babes settled, you turn back to the Dowager Queen. Your breasts still spill from the top of your dress, unable to adjust them while holding both of the children. Alicent no longer holds her staring back.
You approach her, pensive in your steps so as to not scare her off. You notice the way her breathing quickens, no doubt her heart racing faster in her chest.
“Would you like to touch them?” you ask her. You lower the top of your dress even more, your breasts freely hanging and nipples hardening from the cool air.
A brief gasp leaves her lips as she glances up at you, then reaches a hesitant hand out. Her hand is soft, fingers delicate as they trace your breast, focusing on your nipple. Alicent tugs at the nipple, not too hard, but enough to send tingles down your body. You moan at her touch before focusing your attention back onto her.
“May I?” You gesture to her own chest. She looks at you pensively, and just as you believe she is going to deny you, you interject.
“It will feel good. Just like it does for me.”
The Dowager Queen must see the way you derive pleasure from her touch, because it only takes her a couple of seconds before she nods. “Then you may.”
You move behind her to undo the lacing of her dress, only enough so her breasts become exposed.
She goes to cover them with her arm, but you gently take them away from her chest. You place one of her hands back onto your breast just as you place one of your own on hers.
Alicent seems to imitate your own motions, her inexperience shining through. You tug on her nipple hard as she lets out a moan, clutching your forearms as a means to balance. She arches herself into you when you circle one of her nipples with your thumb, and she fails to conceal her moan when you lean down to lick the other.
Her hands lace in your hair as you give equal attention to each breast, alternating between flicking, pinching, and sucking her nipples.
It’s then that a piercing cry from one of the babes echoes out from the other side of the room.
You remove yourself from the Dowager Queen as you crane your neck, seeing how the babes have already awakened from their quick nap.
You turn back to Alicent as you smooth out your dress. “I must return to my duties now, my queen. I believe that little Jahaerya and Jaehaerys may still be hungry.”
Alicent blinks silently, staring at you with her wide eyes. When you start to redo her corset back up and adjust the top of her dress, she seems to finally regain her composure. “Yes. Of course. Yes, you’re dismissed.” She saunters out of the children’s room, but not before you catch the faint dusting of red that covers her cheeks.
You smirk at your newfound knowledge of the Dowager Queen’s tastes, and return to caring for the children.
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#alicent hightower x reader#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#alicent hightower#alicent x reader#alicent hightower smut
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Car's Outside
Inspired by Car's Outside by James Arthur!
This went through an extensive rewrite/editing process so hopefully, it's good!
I tried matching up the dates as much as possible so hopefully things don't get confusing <3
Edit: I posted this before qualifying for the Mexico GP thinking “I need something to make me feel better” after the inevitable news that the GP will break my heart only to wake up to news that Charles is on Pole with Carlos at P2 and Danny Ric at P4. I just need this to happen so bad I will literally cry if this happens
I'm packin' my bags that I didn't unpack the last time
I'm sayin', "See you again," so many times, it's becoming my tagline
But you know the truth, I'd rather hold you
Than try to catch this flight
So many things I'd rather say
But for now, it's goodbye
“I’m sorry,” Charles frowned. His breath fanned across her face, his forehead connected to her own. Y/N’s eyes were closed, head tilted upwards as she breathed him in.
Y/N knew Charles had to leave. It’s his job. Unlike most couples, she didn’t have the luxury of spending every minute of every second of every day with her boyfriend. Not when he was a world-famous Formula One driver whose job meant he was in a different city every week. And though Y/N enjoyed the privilege of freely going in and out of every paddock in the world because of her connections, it wasn’t a privilege she could exercise frequently. Not when she was an international lawyer also tasked with jet setting to other countries of the world.
But they loved each other and so they made it work. Or, at least, tried to.
“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said with a rueful smile. Beneath the musky smell of his cologne, Y/N could smell him, familiar and deep, as if the very essence of him had lodged itself in her nose, up her brain, and made a home for himself. “I understand.”
“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Charles sighed, voice deep, as he, too, breathed her in deeply. “I’d rather hold you, here, forever, than catch a stupid plane.”
“You say that now, but when you win a race, you’ll forget all about me,” she teased, opening her eyes to meet Charles’s brilliant greens.
“Not true, cherie. You’re always the first thing I think of when I win. Every win is for you.” And, as if to emphasize the point, he placed a soft kiss on her nose.
Y/N rolled her E/C eyes, a wide smile stretching across her face at the kiss despite herself. “Charles, I’m already your girlfriend. There’s no need for your sweet words to convince me to be yours.”
“It’s the truth, cherie,” he chuckled, “I always think of you first, win or lose. That’s how much I love you.”
“I love you, too.” And then she pulled his face to hers, placing a kiss on his lips that had him grinning against her like a little school boy offered candy by his mother. He pulled her to him tightly, his arms wrapping around her waist as her hands wound itself around his soft hair. Kissing him always made her feel so dizzy, like the very air in her lungs left her to make space for him. She didn’t mind it one bit. She’d make space for him in every inch of her if she could.
But one of them had to be responsible and it certainly wouldn’t be Charles. So, despite not wanting to, Y/N found herself pulling away, breathing heavy as her hands trailed from his head, down his neck and on his chest. She resisted the urge to smirk at finding his heart beating just as fast as her own.
“You’re making it harder for me to leave, cherie,” Charles panted, his hair mused where she threaded her fingers.
“Good,” she grinned as she reached up and flattened his head, “you should miss me as much as I miss you. Now go, Leclerc, or else I’ll receive a phone call from Carlos complaining that you kept them waiting.”
“I’ll see you again, cherie,” he smiled, eyes tinged with sadness.
“Of course you will. Good bye for now, mon amour.”
“Good bye for now.” And with one last kiss, Charles left. The door to their house closed behind him, the click echoing around their empty living room. All Y/N could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and when she was sure that he was far enough away, she finally released a sob that had her chest caving, her heart suddenly feeling like beads inside a hollow rattle.
I'm starin' at the same four walls in a different hotel
It's an unfamiliar feelin' but I know it so well
Oh, but you know the truth, I'd rather hold you
Than this mobile in my hand
But I guess it'll do, 'cause for you
I would run up my phone bill
You say I'm always leavin'
You, when you need me the most
But the, the car's outside
Y/N didn’t think he was serious about getting on a flight back home, especially when she knew how busy he was on Friday on a race week. Not to mention the fact that the race this week was in Mexico, halfway across the world. But here he was, in the flesh, staring at her with those bright green eyes that she adored so much.
Of course, she should have expected this. Charles was nothing if not determined and when he said he was going to do something, he usually did it.
“You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.” Charles said as he barreled into their shared apartment, pushing past her and towards the living room, “I can’t stay long. Joris and Enzo are waiting outside to take me back to the airport.”
Past the front door, Y/N saw Lorenzo leaning against an expensive looking sports car next to Joris. Enzo as lifted a hand in greeting while Joris smiled at her. Y/N returned the greetings before she closed the door and turned to her boyfriend. Her brows were furrowed as she frowned at him, following him to their spacious living room. “What are you doing here? You have a race!”
“You wouldn’t answer my calls and I can’t race properly when I know we’re not okay.” Charles said as he ran his hands through his curls, sticking them up in odd angles. With a jolt, Y/N realized how long his hair was. The last time she saw him, he had just gotten a fresh cut from Pascale but now his hair was touching the nape of his neck. Has it really been that long?
Y/N took a deep breath before she spoke, gathering her patience as into a tight ball like freshly spun yarn. “Charles, this can wait—“
“No, it can’t,” Charles interjected, his words clipped and his tone sharp. “You were the one who wanted to talk and I’m already here so let’s talk. Do you want to end things or not, Y/N?”
“What?” She exclaimed, surprised at the sudden question. She wanted many things to happen but breaking up was definitely not on the list of things she wanted to do with him. Yes, they had their issues but she couldn’t imagine any of them could be solved by ending their relationship. “Of course not! Do you want to end things?”
Charles looked offended at the question. “No! I don’t want to end things. I want us to be together!”
“You sure don’t act like it!” She snapped before she could think about her next words. Part of her wished she could gobble up the words, stuff them back in her mouth before he could hear them but it was too late. Charles’ expression turned wounded, but his words held anger when he spoke.
“I told you about this before we started dating! I told you about my busy schedule. You came into this relationship with both eyes open, Y/N. Don’t act like you didn’t know about how busy I get!”
Y/N looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. She was beginning to get irrationally angry, and though Y/N was usually very good at compartmentalizing, there was something about the argument that had her wanting to scream. “Dammit, Charles! I know I signed up for this when we started dating but I also signed up for the breaks in between! I thought we could make it work then. But even during the breaks, you’re not here! And I make the time and I make the sacrifices to be here so imagine my disappointment when you don’t!”
“I told you to come to my races!” He yelled, his voice loud and echoing in their living room. His face was beginning to flush in anger, green eyes blazing as he spoke to her. “You’re always welcome there. I don’t know why you never come!”
“It’s hard to find any time to come to your races when I planned all of my time off around your breaks, Charles!” She yelled back. “Because, believe it or not, I don’t want to share you! Not when I barely see you as is. When I come to your races, I know you’ll be too busy doing your job to accommodate me and that’s okay. It’s more than fine. I’m happy to watch you do what you love to do. But, I want to at least see you. To feel you and hear you and talk to you. And I can’t do that during a race weekend because you’re busy and I refuse to be the clingy girlfriend trying to catch all of your attention. I planned my days off around your break period because I figured, that’s when I’ll see you more and actually spend some meaningful time together. But you’re never around! I get it, Charles. Ferrari comes first. I know what I signed up for. But lately, they’ve been coming second and third and fourth. When will it be my turn, Charles? Am I even on the list of your priorities?”
“Of course you are!”
“It sure doesn’t seem like it.”
Charles looked at her as if she’d struck him. “How can you say that when you know it’s not true. I love you, Y/N. You know that.”
She sighed, some of the fight leaving her body. “I do know that, Charles. I never said you didn’t love me. But just because you love me doesn’t mean I feel loved by you. I want to make things work. I try to make things work. But, sometimes it feels like you’re never around. And, I get it, you have a demanding job—“
“Don’t put all of this on me like your job is easy.” He scoffed, his eyes flashing in annoyance once again. “Your schedule is even more demanding than mine, and I’m sure that with your new job, you’ll have even less time for me.”
“Are you serious, Charles?” She hissed, her anger coming back in droves at his words, “You’re putting this on me? I make the time for you! Rather than seeing my family and friends during my breaks, I’m in Monaco for you and you always cancel on me at the last minute and I never complain! You were the one who missed our anniversary dinner!”
“And you miss my races!”
“You missed my promotion!”
“You never told me about your promotion!”
“How can I when you ditched me on our anniversary!”
“I told you why I missed it! The upgrades were important—“
“AM I NOT IMPORTANT, CHARLES?” She screamed. Briefly, she wondered if their neighbors could hear them, if Enzo and Joris could but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze at him as she said her next words softly, the fight leaving her body. “The anniversary wasn’t the only thing you missed. You missed my birthday, too. You didn’t even greet me but I took it to stride because I knew you were busy. I didn’t complain until now because I understood. Even when you promised me you’d fly home for your birthday so we can celebrate together and then you cancelled because of the Ferrari party and the interview, I understood. I plan all of my time off around you and never around my family or my friends, who, by the way, live in another country because I know you want to spend time with me. I always understand, Charles. I understand so much that sometimes I feel like I’m always making the sacrifices for our relationship and never you. And whenever I think to myself, I wish he’d choose me for once, it makes me feel like I’m a terrible person because I know you’re out there trying to achieve your dreams just like me and yet here I am, complaining that I don’t get enough time with you. You’re always promising to make it up to me but you never do and—” A familiar lump formed at the back of her throat, choking her words as a searing heat prickled the back of her eyes.
She loved Charles, she really did. But it was beginning to feel like that love was one sided. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what loving a man like him entailed. She expected that they’ll rarely see each other but at the rate things were going, they didn’t see each other at all. And judging by the way Charles was looking at her, with the anger in his eyes replaced by shame, he was beginning to realize that too.
“I missed your birthday?” Charles said taken aback.
“You were in Canada,” she shrugged miserably, “you were busy. I didn’t think I should remind my boyfriend when my birthday is. If you couldn’t remember, that just means you had more important things in mind.”
Shame coated his eyes as realization dawned on him. “I can’t believe I missed your birthday.”
She sniffled as she swiped at the tears that began to collect in her eyes. “It’s fine—“
“No, it’s not. I am an asshole, cherie,” Charles groaned as he pulled her in his embrace. His chest was warm, his arms even warmer as he tucked her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. I’m always apologizing to you and it’s not right. None of this is your fault. I’m sorry for saying those terrible things to you. I can’t believe you put up with me treating you like this for a whole year. Missing your birthday, and my birthday and our anniversary. Fuck, you’re right and it doesn’t make you a bad person to think those things because you’re right. I’m so sorry.”
Oh, darling, all of the city lights
Never shine as bright as your eyes
I would trade them all for a minute more
But the car's outside
And he's called me twice
Guilt, heavy and shameful, curled in his insides.
No wonder she was so upset with him. Every iota of her fury and more, he deserved for the shitty way he’s been treating her.
“I’m so sorry, cherie,” Charles mumbled against her hair. The smell of her shampoo, as familiar to him as his own was, invaded his sense. “I’m so sorry.”
He could feel her hands begin to wrap around his midsection. It was soft at first, tentative, before she tightened her hold on him like she was stuck in the middle of the sea and he was the lifeboat that saved her. He could feel her leaning her weight against him, the feel of her body a reassuring weight he didn’t realize he lost but was finding his whole life.
“I’m staying,” he said, pressing kisses against her head in between his words, “we’re going to celebrate everything. Your birthday, mine, our anniversary, even your promotion. You deserve as much. You deserve even more. Come fly with me, baby. Let’s go, wherever you want.”
“What do you mean?” Y/N said as she pulled away from him, eyes wide as she peered at him through her lashes.
“I’m staying here, in Monaco, with you.” He said slowly, conviction filling him as he said the words.
She gave him a dubious look. “Charles, it’s a race week. We both know you can’t miss that. It’s in Mexico for crying out loud! That’s why halfway across the world. You need to be back on the plane now if you want to make it back by Sunday.”
“I don’t care.” He said stubbornly. “None of it matters without you. Ferrari already took my breaks. I can sacrifice a race or two” And then his lips pulled into a rueful smile. “Besides, I’m not in the running for the championship anyway.”
Her eyes were still twinkling from the unshed tears, and despite the frown pulling at her lips, Charles had never thought she looked as beautiful as she did today. “But Charles, I have a job to do. I’m set to leave for London two days from now.”
His phone rang, interrupting their conversation. He fished it out of his pocket with a sigh, seeing Enzo’s face flashing on the screen. His arms were still wrapped around Y/N as he answered the phone
“Charles, nous devons partir,” Enzo urged.. (Charles, we need to leave.)
“I’m not going anywhere,” Charles replied, eyes trained on Y/N, who was watching the whole exchange with wide, reproachful eyes. “I’m right where I need to be.”
“Quoi?” (What)
“Cancel my flight, Enzo. I’m not going back. You and Joris can go home. Tell Maman I love her,” he said, ending the call before his brother could protest.
“Charles you can’t just leave in the middle of the weekend.” Y/N said, looking at him like he’d grown two heads.
“Yes, I can.” He said determinedly as he placed his hands on the side of her face, caressing her cheek as he stared deeply into her eyes in an effort to try and make her understand just how serious he really was. “I’m not racing this week. Or next week.”
“You’re going to miss Brazil too?”
“Yes. It’s time I choose you for once. I’ll race back in Vegas and Abu Dhabi but they’re lucky they’ll get even that. I chose them time and time again, cherie, and it’s not right. This is me making it up to you.” He pulled her face to his, placing a kiss on her lips. It was slow and languid, like the winding of a stopped clock that you’re trying to make right. Charles knew how lucky he was to have Y/N and she didn’t deserve to be forgotten, especially not like this. All he’s done was give her empty promises and if there was anyone in the world that deserved the best, it was her.
She pulled away from the kiss, loss of her making him groan. “What about my job? I have so much to do when I get to London. I won’t be in Monaco until the first week of November and the breaks will be far and few in between.”
“Then take me with you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” he said before pulling her into another kiss, this one searing and needy. He felt her pull him towards her, closing whatever distance was between them until their bodies lined flushed against the other. He could feel her figure through their clothes, feel the way her breath hitched as his hands found themselves on her waist, thumbs skimming the soft feel of her skin. She gasped at his touch and the feral feeling that seized him had the tether in him snapping. He kissed her harder, hands winding down to the back of her legs and lifting her. Almost instinctively, Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, her feet crossing at his back. Her hands wound themselves around his hair, pulling at the strands in a delicious way that made him shudder.
How could he choose Ferrari over and over again when they would never be able to make him feel this way? He doubted not even winning a race in Monaco would feel as she good as she does.
His phone rang again, interrupting their moment. Charles groans as he pulled away and Y/N’s laugh rang around their living room. If another phone call interrupts them again, he’s getting rid of this thing. He clicked the green button, Fred’s face flashing as he answered the call with one hand while the other continued to grip Y/N.
“Charles—“
“I’ll see you in Vegas, Fred.” Was the only thing he said before Charles clicked the red button and tossed the phone aside, focusing his whole attention back on his girlfriend.
But he's gonna have to wait tonight
I'm not gettin' in the Addison Lee
Unless you pack your bags
You're comin' with me
I'm tired of lovin' from afar
And never being where you are
Close the windows, lock the doors
Don't wanna leave you anymore
“You mean it? You’re really skipping Mexico and Brazil for me?” Y/N asked, her voice hopeful as she spoke. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, fingers playing at the strands of his hair.
“I am.” He said with all the seriousness he could muster. “I love you, cherie, and I want to love you by your side. You’re my number one priority and I’m sorry that it took me so long to remember that. I know I’ll have to leave again but that doesn’t mean I have to leave you. I love you, cherie. Will you let me come with you?”
“Of course I will.” She smiled, before she leaning her face to him, continuing their kiss right were they left off.
#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc instagram edit#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc instagram au#cl16#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#f1 instagram#formula one x you#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula 1 x you#formula 1 instagram edit#formula one x y/n#formula one fanfiction#f1 x you#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fluff
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Could you write the beach scene where Conrad gets into a fight and instead of Belly getting hit it’s reader. Maybe she was kissing some other guy and that’s why Conrad was drinking?
Continue sending requests for Conrad/Jeremiah!! I added them to my taglists, so please get on it if you want to be notified when I post a new one. Also, season 2 is coming very soon <3 I can't wait for all the Taylor music they're gonna use again
I didn't plan on going over 1k, but my fingers slipped XD
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
—
Music was mixing with the soft swishes of the ocean, marking the first night of summer at Cousins’ beach. After months in the city that never sleeps, it was nice to be back. The smell of the ocean, the feeling of the sand under your feet, the calm swish of the waves, the beautiful sunsets — there were no such things in New York.
Talking about things New York didn’t have, your mouth busy kissing the cute boy you met on the boardwalk yesterday. You didn't plan on kissing him — or anyone — at the bonfire, but he smelled really good and his smile was causing a kaleidoscope in your stomach, and before you realized what was happening, he was leaning to kiss you.
His name was Benjamin…or was it Brad? God, you couldn’t remember. What you knew was the sensation of his body pressed against yours, the intertwining of tongues, and the gentle touch of his hands as they slid to your waist and effortlessly pulled you closer.
This summer was going to be amazing.
Your bubble of summer-lovin' was popped when a sudden commotion about a beer reached your ears, drawing your attention away from Brody. He whined, trying to join your lips again, but you turned your head in direction of the heated voices, one of them familiar to you.
‘’Shit,’’ you muttered under your breath, seeing Conrad shoving another guy and getting shoved back. This was not going to end well… ‘’I’ll be right back.’’
Brody nodded as you stood from the sand and went over, foolishly believing that you could mediate the altercation.
‘’Hey, Conrad that’s enou—’’ you began, only to be abruptly halted by a forceful elbow striking your cheekbone, sending you on the ground.
The sudden assault had drawn Conrad's attention away from the beer-fueled dispute, his drunken gaze fixed upon you with concern. He tried to get to you, see if you were okay, but the other guy wasn't willing to let Conrad off the hook so easily, launching a punch before he could reach your side.
‘’What the fuck is wrong with you?’’ Conrad's anger flared as he retaliated, delivering a punch of his own.
Amidst the chaos, Jeremiah caught sight of the brawl and quickly ran over to you. ‘’Are you okay?’’ he asked, extending a hand and helping you getting back on your feet, his genuine concern evident in his voice.
You nodded, wincing as you covered your aching cheekbone. It’s gonna be bruised tomorrow. Brad, having witnessed the unfortunate turn of events, also approached to offer his support. He tried to cup your face to assess the injury, but you dodged his contact.
Seeing you were relatively okay, Jeremiah pointed towards Conrad and you nodded again, silently telling him to go. You doubted he’ll be able to break the fight, but hopefully someone will come and help.
‘’You should put some ice on that,’’ Brody advised, but all you could think about was Conrad.
Getting into fights was unlike him. But he hasn’t really been himself lately…
A sudden cry of ‘’Cops!’’ echoed through the beach, instantly causing a wave of panic and dispersal among the party-ers. People fled in different directions, seeking to avoid any potential trouble with law enforcement.
While running off, you managed to get away from Brody, no longer wanting to be by his side. It was nothing personal. Old ghosts just pulled you back in.
You emerged on the road, scanning all the cars on each side until you caught the unmistakable red of Conrad's Jeep parked on the road. The backdoor on the driver side was open as Jeremian helped Conrad get in the backseat of the jeep.
‘’Jere! Wait up!’’ you called out at him.
‘’Watch your head. Your legs,’’ Jeremiah said, making sure he wouldn’t be catching any of his drunk brother’s limbs when closing the door.
Conrad grumbled, half laying down on the backseat. ‘’I know how to get into a car,’’ he muttered.
‘’Can I come with?’’ you asked, trying to not glance at Conrad. ‘’I…I don’t have a ride home.’’
Jeremiah nodded, and both of you climbed into the jeep, fastening your seatbelts before driving away.
Only to slam the brakes two seconds later and come to an abrupt halt. ‘’Fuck. Steven.’’ Jeremiah turned to you before getting out. ‘’Watch Conrad, I’ll be right back.’’
Conrad and you were in the car silently. It felt eerily quiet, and even though it was only just past one, you were completely exhausted. In the backseat, Conrad was quiet, lost in his drunken haze. Neither of you spoke for a moment, until he started playing with a piece of your hair.
‘’How did you get into this mess?’’
‘’The guy wanted my beer,’’ he explained simply, softly.
‘’And you didn’t think you had enough?’’ Conrad was silent, so you glanced at him through the visor mirror. ‘’Why did you drink so much?’’
‘’You.’’
A frown formed between your eyebrows. ‘’Me?’’
He let go of your hair and leaned his head against the window. ‘’Why were you with that guy? Is…is he your new boyfriend?’’
No.
Brody was charming and sweet, but you didn’t see him as a potential boyfriend. You weren’t looking for a relationship at the moment. That would be stupid given you were starting college in September.
‘’That’s none of your business,’’ you said instead, brushing off his question.
After playing cat and mouse all summer the year prior — and some of autumn —, you and Conrad decided to call it quits in the spring. You never officially dated, just played around, but a part of you had been hopeful Conrad would change his mind and want to take it to the next level. Unfortunately, he was never yours to lose.
‘’I don’t like when you kiss someone else. You should be kissing me.’’
The atmosphere in the jeep became tense as Conrad's words hung in the air. Had he not been so intoxicated, he would never have said that. You could feel the weight of his emotions and the unresolved tension between the two of you.
Taking a deep breath, you tried to compose yourself, not wanting to lash your emotions at him. ‘’You dumped me, remember?’’ you reminded him, trying to ignore the sleeping pain hidden in a compartment of your heart.
‘’Seeing you with someone else... it drives me crazy,’’ he admitted, his voice filled with a mix of longing and vulnerability.
Twisting in your seat, you turned to face Conrad.
Conrad and his stupid temper. Had he not gotten into a dumb fight over a beer, the side of your face wouldn’t be in pulsing pain. You also would not be sitting in his jeep with him.
Without saying anything, he reached for your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. ‘’I’m sorry.’’
Before you could say anything, the driver side’s door opened, snapping you and Conrad from your moment.
‘’I found him!’’ Jeremiah announced, getting in while Steven did the same, complaining about having to sit in the backseat and having not enough room for his legs.
—
All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully
#conrad fisher#conrad fisher imagine#conrad fisher x reader#the summer i turned pretty imagine#the summer i turned pretty
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characters: jouno saigiku x fem!reader x suehiro tecchou
genre: smut
notes: hi hi! sooo this was only supposed to be a lil drabble based on a dream i had a few nights ago, but it grew into a full fic!! absolutely no one is surprised. please heed the warnings below, this one is a lil dark!
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, sexual torture, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, two slaps to the face, dacryphilia, noncon then dubcon, knife play, blood, a hint of mindbreak, a hint of misogyny from jouno, needles, drugs (epinephrine aka adernaline), a hint of degradation, one pussy slap, size kink/size difference, a lil bit of praise, pet names
words: 3.6k
synopsis:
“Would you like to know what my favourite hobby is?” the first man begins conversationally, busying himself with tugging on your restraints, testing their strength. “It’s breaking pretty little bratty bitches like you. Because as beautiful as you are now, nothing compares to how breathtakingly gorgeous you sound when you’ve been thoroughly shattered into tiny little shards of yourself, smeared with tears and sweat, with those sweet, precious sobs—you know, the ones that rattle your ribs and shudder your chest—spilling from your lips. Oh, it’s the loveliest sound, wouldn’t you agree?”
At your responding silence, he continues, gloved index finger tracing the curve of your cheek.
“No? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
“Where are the remaining Agency members hiding?” The vibrating wand is ground harder into your puffy clit, a plastic click! echoing throughout the dull room, the wand’s intensity kicked up another notch. “Do not make me ask a fourth time.”
It sends a shock of tremors racing up your spine, bending each vertebra into a perfect curve, and your body arches off the bed, worn leather restraints cutting into your wrists and ankles, thick silver buckles jingling as you tug and writhe.
“I told you already,” you manage to gasp out through the gaps of your clenched teeth, fury flaming in your gaze. “I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about! Don’t make me say it a fourth time!”
The sharp sound of skin slapping skin slices through the dense atmosphere as his knuckles connect with your cheek, strong enough to have your head whipping to the side, hard enough to leave stinging little indents of his bones in your flesh—marks that will inevitably blossom into blotchy petals of navy and violet.
“Such a foul mouth for such a pretty lady,” he tuts his tongue. “Didn’t your Daddy ever teach you it isn’t polite for a woman to use such nasty words?”
“Fuck you,” you spit, but the word quivers with your bottom lip, pins of pain searing through your cheek. Reflexive tears coat your vision, burning and bleary, and your nose twitches with a hard exhale, a feeble attempt to quell your crying, bottom lip sucked between your teeth.
“Aw, crying already? Just from one teensy slap?” the man with the crimson-tinged hair shakes his head, as if he’s disappointed, as if this is such a shame. “Looks like we caught ourselves a cry baby, Tecchou.” The man’s head tilts toward your face, lips curled up in sadistic glee. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
“Indeed,” the man with the chestnut tufts agrees, idly swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek and killing a teardrop mid-stream, salt water collecting in the grooves of his fingerprint. It shimmers in the dim light as he brings it to his face to examine it, turning his finger one way, then the other, before finally sticking the whole thing in his mouth, lips puckering as he sucks it clean.
“Would you like to know what my favourite hobby is?” the first man begins conversationally, busying himself with tugging on your restraints, testing their strength. “It’s breaking pretty little bratty bitches like you. Because as beautiful as you are now, nothing compares to how breathtakingly gorgeous you sound when you’ve been thoroughly shattered into tiny little shards of yourself, smeared with tears and sweat, with those sweet, precious sobs—you know, the ones that rattle your ribs and shudder your chest—spilling from your lips. Oh, it’s the loveliest sound, wouldn’t you agree?”
At your responding silence, he continues, gloved index finger tracing the curve of your cheek.
“No? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
Several denied orgasms later—you don’t know how many, you’ve lost count—and everything hurts, muscles dense and sore from the constant coiling before relief is abruptly snatched away, again, fibers unwinding, unraveling, slow and sluggish, barely afforded a moment to rest before they’re being wound back up again by a vibrating toy or two slender, gloved fingers.
It’s hard to gauge how much time has passed since this whole thing began, the officers’ questions dribbling into one another, gooey as they drip from their lips, melding together in one continuous stream before they melt again, mix again, spit out rephrased and repeated.
They’ve since freed your wrists and ankles from the restraints, the man with the crimson tips—Jouno, you’ve learned—twisting his face in revulsion at the thought of you staining them with blood.
She’s too weak to fight back now, anyway, he had reasoned. His partner had agreed.
Crusted salt weights your eyelashes, lids heavy as you blink, hard and slow, in an attempt to rid the bleariness from your vision. But it’s no use, another thick wave of tears rushing to coat your eyes only seconds after it’s been dispelled, rendering everything in your line of sight soft and hazy.
The sterile walls are bleeding into one another, corners fusing into wavering curves, sticky and watery. Someone’s talking, but it all sounds muffled, as if they’re murmuring to you from above the surface, and you frown.
Another slap to the face—open-palmed, this time—throws you back onto their frequency, the pain momentarily clearing the thick static from your head and tuning your ears into their voices.
“I think she’s about to pass out,” the deeper voice—Tecchou—says, a faint note of concern woven into his tone.
“Oh no,” Jouno gasps mockingly. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”
Metal clinks together delicately, then the sound of a nail being flicked against plastic twice before something pricks your arm, sinks in about an inch or so, and sends a substance rushing into your blood; little bolts of electricity that zip through your veins, alighting your frayed nerves but doing little to eradicate the stuffy haze blanketing your mind.
Another question is asked, another question you don’t have the answer to, brain so soupy you can barely comprehend the words hanging over you, suspended in the air. The vibrations from the wand climb another grade higher, your whole body shivering with them. You whine a little, a pitiful sound stringy in your throat, before managing to push a few heavy words from your tongue.
“Incompetent,” you gurgle out, the mangled insult oozing past your lips with large, fizzy dollops of drool. “S’what y’are.”
“Oh, are we?”
“Yeah,” you rasp out, head nodding in messy, lethargic motions. “Wasting time on th’wrong person.”
Jouno laughs, and it’s mocking, mean, stitched together with malicious threads of amusement.
“I don’t think we’re wasting our time at all, actually. On the contrary, I’m having quite a pleasurable time.”
The wand rubs over your clit, first in slow, almost soothing motions, back and forth, back and forth, the touch resembling something gentle, before it begins to build speed, higher and higher, faster and faster, matching the pace of his rapid-fire questions, and you can feel it, a concentrated ball of flames roiling in your gut, furling in on itself quick and tight and hard, and then—
It’s gone.
Again.
He can read your body better than anyone else ever has, better than you yourself have ever been able to, keen senses picking up on those tiny telltale signs of an impending orgasm: the sweet little hitch of breath in your throat—catch, hold, exhale; the muscles beginning to be pulled tense and taut by accelerating pleasure—stomach tightening, thighs clenching, face scrunching; the gentle yet desperate twitch of your hips towards the toy—a pathetically cute attempt to milk your own orgasm from your body before he inevitably takes the toy away.
It’s entirely unfair.
You’ve gone delirious with delayed pleasure again, hysterically hedonistic, nonsensical babbles pouring from your lips in thick, unbroken weeps, sopping with spit and tears.
But that’s okay, Jouno can decipher them, can wring them out and and lay them out to dry, brutal berating falling from his lips in reply as he presses two fingers to your puffy clit, sensitive skin rubbed raw and abused, stroking the swollen nub in slow, purposeful circles.
It’s hard to concentrate on anything when he does this, when you can feel the warmth of his skilled fingers through the thin fabric of his gloves, when he’s laughing at you for being such a good little slut, and look how quickly you drench his gloves!
Because there’s something so much more personal about this, about his hands on the most intimate parts of you, leading you by the nose to the crest of pleasure and allowing you to teeter on the edge, so close to falling, before he harshly hauls you back with a swift slap to your cunt, the heat of his fingers gone in an instant, replaced by a painful tingle.
And then he’s appearing, your brief salvation, your fleeting angel, broad shoulders blotting out the faint light as he leans over your body to wipe you down, strands of chestnut falling to frame his kind eyes.
“I know, I know,” Tecchou’s humming, dabbing a cloth along your damp hairline, soaking up the little dewdrops of sweat caught in your hair. “It hurts, I know.”
“Please, Tecchou, please,” you’re whimpering, trembling fingers curling weakly at the hems of his shirtsleeves, nails scrabbling against the thick material. “Please, make’im stop! I can’t—I can’t—”
“You have the power to put an end to this immediately,” he reminds you gently, as if he genuinely believes you have a choice. “You just have to tell us one piece of information, blossom.”
His palm is cool against your clammy forehead, sweeping hair back from your brow.
“No piece of information is too tiny or insignificant. Anything helps. Just one.”
Another torrent of tears floods your vision again, instantly overflowing past clumpy lashes, your head shaking in disbelief, fragments of denegation on your tongue.
“I don’t—” you hiccup. “I du-dunno what to tell you—I dunno what you want—”
With a sigh, Tecchou clicks his tongue as if he’s disappointed in you—and that hurts, too, an inexplicable ache taking root deep behind your ribs, throbbing with yearning—before slipping easily from your clumsy grasp and melting back into the shadows, Jouno taking center stage again.
“No, please! Wait!” you cry out, head shaking quickly, fingers twitching. “I swear I don’t!”
“Pathetic,” Jouno spits, a merciless type of glee painted across his face, the word so caustic it sears into your flesh, corrosively gnawing away at your skin.
“No, no, no,” you’re whimpering to yourself, eyes shutting tightly as your head shakes again, tears leaking from the crinkled corners. “This is—This is wrong, ’n I—I’m gonna, gonna report—”
“Yeah? And who are you going to call? The police?” they both chuckle, sharing a look between themselves.
A flash of fury slices through your chest, cutting clean through the decadent daze they’ve effectively cast over your consciousness, and you blink hard, red rage incinerating the tears in your eyes in an instant.
With an indignant sniff, you lift your dense head from the pillow to glare at them. Their cocks, impressively thick bulges, strain against maroon fabric, the only physical indication this torture is affecting either of them at all, voices calm and features composed. Jouno’s since removed his hat and his cape, the sleeves of his jacket stained with your sweat—ugly irregular patches of dried salt, material crusty and stiff. He shrugs it off easily, tosses it over a chair in the corner and unbuttons the cuffs of his starched shirt, rolling them up to his elbows.
“Oh?” Jouno tilts his head, a subtle response to your morph in mood. “Are you ready to talk now?”
“I told you already,” you cough out viciously, grinding the words between your molars. “I have nothing to say!”
“Hm. Shame. Maybe this will help jog your memory.”
His fingers dip into his pant pocket, feeling around laxly for an item, a soft hum vibrating on his tongue when his fingers come in contact with what they were looking for. He pulls a piece of glinting silver from the depths, the sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal slashing through the atmosphere as he flicks it open.
A Hattori Higonokami switchblade, beautifully crafted with Jouno’s full name elegantly engraved into the nickle of the handle, the edge of the blade glimmering in the fluorescent light.
“I know it’s not as impressive as Tecchou’s sword,” he begins, turning the knife over in his hand, the very tip of the blade pressed precariously into the fleshy pad of his index finger. “But it still serves an exceptionally important purpose.”
As if to demonstrate, he runs the point of the blade along the line of your jaw, featherlight and stinging. It’s so sharp it leaves a raised scratch in its wake despite its gentle pressure, quivers coursing through your body as your nerves furrow.
He circles the hinge of your jaw, then continues down the curve of your neck, outlining your collarbone before tracing your sternum, coming to a stop in the middle of your chest, pressure of the blade increasing ever-so-slightly, piercing the thin skin.
“Shall I cut your heart out?” he asks, voice irritatingly calm, lips curled into a polite smile. The tip of the blade travels back up your sternum, retreading its previous trail, before it sinks into your skin, right above your left breast.
A yelp catches in your throat, pitchy and cracked, and your body instinctively bows off the bed, pressing further into the knife. A laugh falls from Jouno’s lips, the sound silk and syrup.
The blade curves, then drags down your sternum and to your ribs in a perfect slant before sharply pivoting upward in a V motion, curling around your breast to meet its initial starting point.
A heart.
It isn’t dire, the wound too shallow to require any stitching or attention, but it’s deep enough to have blood seeping from the slashes in a slow, smooth ribbons. They flow as one, not as singular drops but as a whole entity, cascading warm and sticky over your breast and ribs.
“I bet you look so gorgeous like this,” Jouno breathes, and that’s the most impacted he’s sounded all night. Two fingers trace the heart carved into your skin, slow and hard, smearing blood across your chest in crude strokes.
Inhaling deeply, he brings his blood-glazed fingertips to his nose, whole chest expanding as he fills his lungs with the coppery scent. A deep moan rumbles behind his ribs, and he presses both fingers flat to the back of his tongue, dragging them along the expanse of the slimy muscle and depositing thick streaks of crimson.
Revulsion churns your stomach, features puckered in sour distaste, but you can’t help the way your cunt flutters pathetically, wickedly, a shameless gush of heat flooding the apex of your thighs—so much so that you can feel it, leaking down the soft skin, slick smudged and slathered across the dry layers from earlier as the muscles clench and squeeze together—and Jouno laughs.
He can smell it.
Tecchou emerges from the shadows then, the pungent stench of alcohol clinging to his fingers.
It burns as he pats a rough cloth drenched in the substance across your steadily weeping wound, pacifying condolences falling form his lips in little hushes as he works, attempting to ease your pain, his words working as a salve to his partner’s crimes.
“Can’t you just be a good girl and cooperate for us?” he murmurs as he tilts a glass to your lips, sure to feed you in short streams of water. His eyes are brimming with mercy, begging you to to be good, to obey, like the proper little girl he knows you are.
And, really, its his kindness that breaks you, that thoroughly smashes you to pieces, his sheer and unwavering compassion—so genuine, so real—that has a sob tearing from your throat as your head shakes in slow, lethargic strokes, breath stuttering in your chest.
“I don’t—I’m, I’m not—” your tongue fails, trips over itself as the letters tangle around it, curls in on itself and drowns in pools of saliva. “I’m trying, but you aren’t—aren’t listening—”
A fierce sob smothers your words, whole body shuddering from the force of it, and your limbs weakly curl into your chest in desperation, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together, to keep your ribs from splintering and splitting you in two. Your voice is thin, stretched and staining beneath heavy distress.
“Please, please, please,” you’re nearly wailing, nails scraping against your own skin. “Please, stop—I promise—”
A coo of contemplation marinates on the back of Jouno’s tongue, both men peering down at you.
“Perhaps we do have the wrong girl after all,” Jouno muses after a moment, voice painfully indifferent, as if they didn’t just spend hours torturing you. Your heart leaps, potent relief melting your bones, and he chuckles, a thumb caressing your clammy forehead. “Oh?” he questions, a teasing laugh infused in the question. “Does that make you feel better, cry baby?”
Yes, yes, yes, your head is nodding, fingers latching around his wrist and clinging to him. Another soft chuckle slips from his lips, and he lets you hold him, maneuvering his hand to lace his fingers with yours.
“I’m beginning to think so, as well,” Tecchou chimes in, frowning slightly, head tilting as he observes you. “They usually talk by now, and she’s been thoroughly broken, yet all she can seem to say is that she doesn’t know...”
“Well, Tecchou, I think we owe her some relief from all of this, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do. I will handle it.”
And it’s decided so easily, so simply, so fucking quickly it has you wondering if there was ever any doubt that you were the right person in the first place, if you were merely chosen because you were a pretty girl in a short skirt, plucked from the street between Jouno’s forefinger and thumb, just because he wanted to. The thought tugs at your consciousness, but it’s too frayed and and ruined to fully sew it together, to make sense of it all, the sound of clothes rustling—the drop of a heavy pair of pants against the tiled floor—recapturing your delicate attention.
With an affirmative nod, Jouno pulls his hand from yours, the action more tender than anything he’s performed all night, grinning at the discontented little whine that sounds at the back of your throat.
“How curious,” he murmurs to himself, Tecchou busy unbuckling his belt and shoving at his waistband. “Even after all I’ve put you though, you’re still seeking comfort in me, huh?”
You can’t say anything, can’t do anything but nod dumbly and gurgle to yourself, mind stuffed full of the solace that comes with the promise of repose.
The mattress dimples as Tecchou crawls between your legs, knees spread wide and digging into your thighs, effectively keeping them open and wide. He wraps a palm around the base of his cock, massive and drooling out thick dollops of pre-cum, fat crystalline drops that roll down the shaft to pool in the creases of his fisted fingers.
“Tecchou, T—Tecchou,” you’re whimpering as you reach for him, the name a knotted mess, soaked in spit, hands little grasping claws at the space between the two of you, desperate for the man that has been so sweet, so sympathetic, to end this, to take the pain away and relieve the bulging pressure in your gut, finally.
“She’s been on the verge of cumming for hours,” Jouno says nonchalantly, concentrated on the dirt he’s cleaning from his nails. “She’ll probably cum within seconds of you shoving your cock into her.”
“Shh,” he hushes you gently, taking your shivering body in his strong arms, your fingers scrabbling at his shoulders. “I’ve got you, I’m gonna make it feel better, hush, now.”
The head of his cock bumps against your hole bluntly, taking a moment to find its proper place before he pushes into you, pace slow and steady. He’s fucking huge, thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and you can feel your delicate flesh stretching, straining, splitting to accommodate him, cute little hole sucking him in, gorging on his cock as it stuffs you full.
The sting isn’t too terrible, though, his motions aided by how embarrassingly aroused you are, another onslaught of slick streaming down his shaft as he bottoms out, head pressed snug to your cervix, juices pooling in the folds of his heavy balls.
And, as always, Jouno was right.
Because it’s over pathetically quickly, only a mere three snaps of his hips before you’re creaming all over him, tears cascading down your cheeks in glittering streams, collecting in the hollows of your tired eyes and leaking into the hair at your temples.
Tecchou doesn’t fair much better, though, collected composure splintering beneath the pleasure as your cunt convulses around him, the whines flowing from his lips stuttered by the uneven rutting of his hips, hard and fast and flexing against your body.
“Holy fuck,” he’s gasping out, a dewdrop of sweat running down the bridge of his nose. “H-Holy fuck, she’s—she’s so tight, she’s so tight, it’s so good—”
It only takes a few more pumps before he’s following after you, cock pulsing almost viciously as it spurts load after load of thick, hot cum into you, so much so that you can feel it oozing out of you, seeping past his cock and rolling down your ass in fat globs to form shimmering ivory puddles in the ridges of the rumpled sheets.
Sobs are still scraping your throat, lungs swelling painfully with them, so violent they have your whole body shuddering, expanding with each wail before it shrivels up again. Because the alleviation is so pure, so potent, so intense that you’ve gone boneless and pliant, your flesh rippling with chills.
It feels so good, to finally have the tension that had wound your organs and muscles into tight knots releasing, tissues and fibers disentangling, dissolving, stress seeping through your pores; it feels too good, every brush of the threadbare bedspread against your sensitive skin nearly painful, as if your entire body is overexposed, nerves frayed to the nub.
It’s hard to stitch even a single word together now, letters unravelling at the seams, disintegrating into strands of smoke every time you try to grasp them.
But it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything, Tecchou gathering what’s left of your body in his arms.
“You did good, petal,” he pants out as he cradles you to his heaving chest, voice barely more than a wisp of breath. “You did so good for us.”
“Yes,” Jouno chimes in with a murmur and a small, knowing smile. “I think we’ve caught ourselves a very good girl.”
#jouno saigiku x reader#jouno saigiku smut#suehiro tecchou x reader#suehiro tecchou smut#jouno smut#tecchou smut
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