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starsofang · 3 days

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poly!141 x autistic!reader

still thinking about that anon that requested how poly!141 would be with an autistic partner, so here’s a sweet little drabble about price with them <3

tw: brief angst before cute fluff, just reader being overstimulated and price offering comfort

The entire room felt like it was closing in on you. It made you feel suffocated, claustrophobic, like all the walls were slowly constricting you and threatening to squeeze you until you exploded into a bloodied mess of splattered red.

Warm flames were trickling into your bloodstream, slowly but surely, heating you up with rage, attempting to scorch you from the inside and out. It was becoming unbearable. It was ruthless.

You loved Johnny and Kyle. Truly, you loved them to death, just as much as you loved Simon and Price. But putting them together could be a youthful night of smiles and laughter, or it could be a recipe for disaster. Right now, it was the latter.

The restraint you had was wearing thin. It was painful, both mentally and physically, to mask your anger and not snap at the two of them for how loud they were being. It wasn’t their fault, they were always the more outgoing types when they were paired together, and a lot of it expressed itself when you were around so you wouldn’t feel excluded or isolated.

But god, it was wearing thin, borderline snapping and shattering into unrepairable pieces.

You were overstimulated. Extremely.

Your mind was poisoned goo, seeping into a puddle in your head, tainting your emotions with a venomous disease. It screamed at you, flooding you with overwhelming exposure.

The air in your lungs felt as if it were monoxide. It didn’t filter through, it didn’t make you feel like you were breathing. It was a strangling feeling, one that made you lightheaded and tuned out.

Johnny and Kyle’s voices mixed together in an agonizing shrill that made your eardrums feel like they were two seconds away from combusting. It didn’t calm you like it normally did, nor did it make you laugh. All it did was make you irritated.

“Please,” you begged, voice raspy and forced through the grit of your teeth. Your hands plugged over your ears, cupping them in attempts to drown out their rowdy jokes. “Can you please just shut up? For two fucking seconds? Please?”

Instantly, the room filled with a deafening silence. The two men stared at you, guilt pooling in their eyes when they realized just how inconsiderate they were being towards you.

They were aware of things that could overstimulate you to the point of blinded exhaustion mixed with rage, but even they could forget sometimes. They’d never hurt you on purpose, nor would they want to make you feel that way.

You were their partner, all of theirs, and with five of you in the mix, it was easy to let the reminder slip.

“Hey,” Kyle called out softly, reaching a hand out to you. When you flinched away from it, an angry glare etched into your eyes, eyebrows taut firm, mouth pressed into a frown, he pulled it away, noting how you were in no mood to be touched. “Hey, we’re sorry, dove. Didn’t mean to get too much, we’ll quiet down.”

Your hands remained over your ears but you could hear him perfectly fine, though made no effort to respond. The little virus in your mind was too occupied with spreading its disease, and you couldn’t cure it in a flash. It would take time to settle.

“Bonnie?” Johnny asked. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. It was too much. You needed space to breathe, and surely, they’d understand that.

Stepping away from them and out of the room without another word, the first person who popped in your head was Price. His office was right down the hall, so you stomped towards it, keeping your head low and your ears covered.

You didn’t bother knocking. You never had to with him, and he always kept it unlocked for when you wanted to see him, or needed to, in this case.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Price greeted warmly when you yanked open his door and stepped inside, before promptly hurling it closed.

His eyes followed you as you made your way over to the couch he kept in his office just for you, watching as you plopped yourself on it. Knees to your chest, sour expression, ears covered. It was enough indication for him to read the room.

You needed a quiet space, and that was something he could always give you.

Price silently stood from his desk, crouching down to one of his drawers. Tugging it open, he pulled out one of the blankets he kept on hand for you. Normally for when you’d take a nap in his presence, but this time it was for comfort.

Walking over, he stood in front of you, head tilted and eyes taking in your appearance. You were flustered and disheveled, and his heart ached seeing you shut down. He knew it was just all apart of who you were, but he still felt pained seeing you unhappy.

“Here, bug,” he offered with a kind smile, using careful hands to place the blanket around your shoulders. He wrapped you up in it, before stepping back, allowing you the space you needed until you were ready. “You want some music?”

Shaking your head, you continued glaring down at the floor, tugging the blanket tighter around yourself in a secure cocoon.

“Alright. I’ll be over there, okay?” He gestured to his desk, but when you didn’t respond, he took no offense and returned to his paperwork anyway.

The two of you sat in silence for the duration of your visit. He didn’t mind, and would cast the occasional glance in your direction to make sure you were well, before returning to his work.

The silence was needed. It calmed you, smoothed over your nerves and ceased the thumping of your heart and loud voices in your head. When you came to, you instantly made a mental note to apologize to Johnny and Kyle, but for now, you could welcome the quiet.

It took about an hour for you to move from your spot. An hour for you to calm. An hour for you to become aware.

The wildfire was finally put out, and you could breathe again without the angry smoke of it to strangle you.

Standing up from the couch, you wordlessly walked over to Price. He glanced up at you from his paperwork, placing his pen down and leaning back in his chair. He was patient, not making a first move until you did, but when you stood in front of him with a kicked-puppy expression, he opened his arms.

“C’mon, bug,” he assured lovingly.

You didn’t hesitate, stumbling into his lap and allowing yourself to be embraced in the comforting warmth of his arms. They wrapped around you, holding you to his chest. One hand lifted to lightly stroke through your hair.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, and you shook your head from where it was buried in the crook of his neck. “That’s okay. Just needed some peace and quiet, hm?”

“Mhm,” you hummed into his skin, eliciting a light laugh from him. It rumbled against you, filling you with glowing warmth and making you sink into him further.

Price pressed a chaste kiss on the side of your head, smiling down at you when you peeked your head out from his neck, gazing at you as if you put all of the stars in the sky.

(You definitely ended up apologizing to both Johnny and Kyle later on, resulting in plenty of hugs and kisses to go around, and a brief smack on each of their heads when Simon found out about what they did.)

#call of duty #cod #cod mw3 #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #captain price #poly141 #autistic!reader #cod x reader #ghost cod #kyle garrick

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writers-potion · 6 hours

Note

Do you have any tips for deciding whether to use first or third person and present or past tense??

1st vs. 3rd Person | Present vs. Past Tense

1st Person is Best Used When...

The antagonist is abstract/is a psychological barrier that must be overcome

It's easier to weave backstory/info with experience.

Immediacy and toppling high stakes are important for the reader to keep rooting for your MC (like in the case of many fantasy novels)

You have an unreliable narrator.

You struggle to have a consistent tone/perspective. (third person not executed well will easily get confusing)

For literary fiction

3rd Person is Best Used When...

You have multiple MCs, following them more or less equally throughout.

You have freedom to move from wide, establishing views and closed-in views - this is good for conveying the theme.

You find yourself injecting too much of yourself in your writing and wish to prevent this.

You want the reader to view the MC more objectively, sometimes the narrator even offering commentary.

You wish to make use of dramtic irony (the reader knows more than the MC)

Present Tense is Best For...

The majority of novels are written in the past tense, and would be the easier one to execute if you're a first-time writer. However, present tense is certainly not inferior.

It feels like a movie: it allows you to mimic the action and suspense found in film.

It intensifies emotions: it gives the feeling of "we're in this together", the reader experiencing things with the MC side to side.

Works well with Deep POV: Deep POV uses third person narrators like 1st person, sticking with one character's mind for closeness.

Best for short-time-frame stories with constant action.

Works well for unreliable narrators: Since the narrative is so close to the action, it is easy to have a narrator that leaves out details.

However...

Readers can feel "claustrophobic, always pressed up against the immediate" (Philip Pullman quote)

Time shifts can be awkward - you're locked in the present more or less; unless you use flashbacks/dreams (which are disruptive)

It's harder to execute because you need to capture the texture of the present while acknowledging that the past and the future still exist.

It mimics film - you cannot just jump characters, speak directly to the reader or do time skips.

Books written in present tense (and are still good!)

The Hunger Games series

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

Rabbit, Run by John Updike

Ulysses by James Joyce

All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Remarque

Fight Club by Chuck Palhniuk

The White Queen by Philippa Gregroy

Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

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💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram!

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2

💎For early access to my content, become a Writing Wizard

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suguruplsr · 2 months

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NEED THAT DICKOLOGY!

— fucking your mentor?

geto suguru x fem! virgin reader , v random + pure filthy smut , oral (f) , protected sex ! , overstimulation , folding position , bar restroom scene > car scene , face riding , fingering , hair pulling , choking + spitting n mouth , not proofread + rushed so lmk what i missed ! 🪐

⸝⸝ psychology.. the study of the mind. a beautiful study you’ve always found yourself interested in, along with the long hour videos of interrogations of criminals. so having a mentor for the job you’re aiming for as a criminal psychologist, is very helpful.

like when he takes you out to dinners with large politicians to study their behaviors. not everyone’s a good person, he reminds you.

not everyone’s a good person, when suguru’s looks fucking edible with his dress shirts and slacks, always leaving out a button undone and his beautiful hair draping around him like a water fall. when he looks like a trap you’d love to walk into.

you’d do anything to imprint the image of his stupidly handsome casual+formal look in your mind, the one you love to imagine him wearing when you’re thinking about him taking you on his office desk, so why not take him out for once?

who knew you’d get so lucky..

“we’re still in public,” suguru huffs with a smile, clearly teasing you with that glimmer in his eyes. ignorant, you continue to kiss against his lips, eager and hungry to the male pressed against your body in the shammy bar restroom. “please.” you beg, nearly whining and mewling for suguru with your drawled voice.

you lick at the lingering liquor transmitted from his lips. his hands gripping your waist. his cologne filling your nostrils. his stupid smile. why did your stupid mentor have this— even more stupid, affect on you?

“please what?” “i don’t know suguru,” you impatiently bite back, frowning at his deep seductive chuckle. the kind that pulls victims like you into his aura. into a man who’ll put you into a trance. which it does, “i just need you, please, touch me suguru..”

suguru lets out a deep sigh at your words, eyes speaking louder than his unspoken words. but you can feel his growing erection against your thigh, and you’d gladly point it out if he wasn’t looking at you like he needs you just as much as you need him.

poor girl, he thinks. one of his hands on your waist trail up. his right one, going up to your throat and giving it a comfortable squeeze. he holds you like you’re nothing, and it makes you want him even more, stomach turning with need as he tilts your head back.

soon he’s attacking your exposed neck— and you’d think he’s a vampire with a how the noises of his lips on your neck fill up the claustrophobic atmosphere. his kisses form a line directly up the middle of your neck, leaving you sensitive once they drop down to your cleavage. and suguru almost has half the mind to pull off your clothing with his teeth, choosing to suckle at the peeking skin of your breast that the sleeveless didn’t hide. “touch you hm? how much? just something like this or..” suguru’s laugh is hidden in your skin once his fingers slipped between the slit of your dress, feeling the damp spot on your panties.

the yellow blinking lights above you do no better to help your failing and swirling head. a mixture of alcohol and lust overtaking your senses— and suguru geto himself. one of his large fingers find your clit way too quick, but it’s as expected of a man who exhibits a sleek ambience of sexiness. he presses the bud through the ruined fabric, “or you want your pussy stuffed full of me. you probably haven’t been fucked good for a while— no offense there..” suguru rubs the area in tight circles, catching how your breath hitches, hands immediately latching to his button up shirt. he doesn’t care for the wrinkles, or how he can feel your nails slowly dig into the shirt, probably forming crescents into the skin underneath.

you’re just too cute.

“i’ve always admired how determined you are, such a smart girl huh? so focused on studies you don’t even have time to touch yourself. but it’s okay baby, you got me now.” you almost feel undermined, despite his words. the way he ignores your pathetic whines and whimpers with each second of his exploration around your cunt..it’s all too condescending.

“i’ll fill that cunt of yours with my fingers first, shit— you can probably only take one.” suguru’s observation is made when the pad of a finger doesn’t slip into your hole easily. your panties were forced to the side already and your cunt wet against his palm. the man kneels, sacrificing his expensive slacks to meet your darling pussy face to face. the psychologist pushes your dress up, to which you get the memo, holding the blue dress and bunching it up to your waist.

suguru holds your panties to the side again, squishing it with a single hand and his thumb kneading the skin of one of your thighs. “s’ fucking beautiful down here..” he whispers, speaking to the mess in front of him.

if only you knew how his mouth watered, drool almost coming up and his muscles fighting with each fiber of his body. he just wants to attach his mouth onto your pussy, let all of your juices and wetness fall into his mouth rather then let it uncomfortably mesh together between your thighs.

let him relieve it.

but, ever the man, suguru stays true to his words, licking his lips unconsciously and bringing a hand up to your folds. yet, unlike his usual patience and prudence, he’s quickly forcing one of his fingers into your cunt. your body jerks, “o-oh. wait! please! oh fuck..” you blabber off into a tandem, curses leaving you while his finger works its way into your virgin cunt. an abnormal feeling.

“already falling apart baby. not even moving it, c’mon, just a bit longer. we don’t want you to get dumbed out at some bar, right baby? not being in the right state of mind is dangerous..” caution is nonexistent in his tone, more-so mocking as he moves closer and lifts your left leg onto his shoulder. you know what he’s implying, his words are promises to how he’s going to break you and leave your mind a mess.

is it really sickening how you clench around his finger just from the thought? you already have him here between your legs and yet, he still keeps you on your toes with each damning word that leaves his mouth.

“let’s loosen you up a bit, or maybe you want some extra work with my tongue?” suguru tsks, unapologetically moving his finger inside you, thrusting it slowly before pulling it out completely to add another, “maybe let me spit on your sloppy pussy and treat it like a whore?” you mewl as he gives your clit a pitiful hit of his palm, then massaging it between his fingers, rolling the bud before slipping two fingers in with ease.

it’s all too much.

“i.. i don’t care, jus’ wanna cum— as long as it’s from you sugu..” you whined, looking down at him with tears filling your eyes, giving little sniffles from how his fingers nudge where you need him most, you just want to grab at him, pull at his hair as he fucks your pussy with his fingers.

suguru hisses, leaving your pussy with a kiss on your clit, “we’re getting the fuck outta here baby, not gonna fuck you here.” and as annoyed as you want to be for having to wait, you follow his words reluctantly, quickly making yourself as presentable as you possible could before he’s dragging you away.

you found yourself in multiple positions in the more comfortable sleek pink BMW— regardless of the limited space in the black interior. you continue your heated session in the stuffy backseat, ridding yourself of that bunchy dress and trying your best to get rid of his clothes before you were put in the position you’re in now.

“ride me baby, keep this pussy on my face, and don’t you dare fuckin’ hover.” suguru’s demand makes you bite your lip, crawling over on top of him and briefly resting on his now bare chest to admire him. his usual put together look was ruined by you. the best you could. perhaps the ideals he had promised to you, reflected onto him. his upper body is covered in stains of your gloss, mixed with your brown lip liner. and the cresent’s of your nails and purple hickies are only more decorative additions that stained his skin in the hours of the night.

suguru’s long hair is sprawled underneath him, undone once you had mentioned wanting to use it as leverage. and who is he to complain about your wishes?

“do you really wanna do this? you don’t have to..” your energy now is a stark contrast from before, unsettling hesitation within you as his arms wrap around your thighs, tugging you forward. a slick of your essence drags along his chest, a guttural sound escaping suguru from the warmth of it on him. “do i need to restate your words my love? i’d be happy to brag all about how you claimed to need me. especially when i can tell right now..” suguru scoffs, and you’re quickly lifted onto his face without warning, his mouth widened and is forcefully attached to your cunt.

the way he eat dines on your pussy is like a man starved. from the tight grip of his hands to the way his cock strains so uncomfortably in his pants. his tongue moves like a snake, flexing and gathering every single drop of you on it, then flicking into his mouth with a groan. suguru savored your taste each and every time, slowly rocking you onto his mouth until you were completely riding him with little cries and moans of your own, tugging his long soft strands.

your hands would fly to the handle of the back seat door, holding the black leather as you came or squirted. after so long, you never knew which it was— but you knew the man underneath you would eat it all up in mere seconds, his thirst for you never ending.

after so long, suguru had layed you back, his hands ghosting over the skin of your stomach with your legs sprawled around him. it wasn’t his ideal choice of scenery for the taking of your virginity, knowing it’s something so cherished. and of course, he’d want your first time, and your first time with him, to be more special than fucking you into the rough fabric of your back seats.

his girl is just so fucking needy.

“hah! ha— sug! um.. fuck you feel soo good!!” you nearly scream, voice breaking and your eyes rolled back.

suguru’s cock is stuffed inside your pussy, the only thing keeping him from your gummy walls was a condom around his dick. yet he hits all the right spots without hindrance, the thick member filling and molding you with each of his pounding thrusts. “yeahhh bet i do— clenchin’ around me baby, shit..” the long haired male groans, his arms are around your thighs— his favorite place obviously, not sure to keep you spread or to push your thighs up and fold you dumb.

rather, enjoy the creamy sight of your pussy around him, or fuck you how he wants to?

he chooses the latter, folding you easily and greeting you with a sloppy kiss that swallows down your moans. his thrusts are more methodical, but they have so much force, nudging your sweetest spot and leading you to cloud nine. his balls, slap against you ass loudly with each one thrust, stringed wet with your previous cum. suguru loves to feel it, the absolute mess between you.

“cum. go ahead princess, give it to me, don’t want you to hold back— not at all.” suguru encourages, pausing your wet and spit inducing make out session with a more firmer kiss on your lips. you whine, holding onto the broad escape of his shoulders, adding more scratches down to his back and clawing with each second you’re brought closer to your orgasm. “o-okay sugu.. g’nna cum..” you can barely speak, voice raspy and only getting worse with a thick hand wrapped around your neck. he really wants you gone, to let your consciousness float away and fuck you till you’re incoherent of even breathing.

at least that’s what it feels like once your eyes are rolling back, body stuttering as he fucks you through the impending feeling while a nasty glob of spit is forced down your throat which cause you to release around him suddenly. it’s too good, unable to feel anything, but feeling everything, at the same time.

youre awaken with his hot load shot out onto your stomach, tossing the soiled condom somewhere and jerking himself off to the sight of your cock-drunk state. through your blurry eyes, you see how his muscles contract and react, his head tilting back and his cock eventually giving all that’s left in little spurts. suguru’s mumbling to himself, probably things he’d say to you if he had came in your ex-virgin pussy.

“baby.. fuck.. you with me or dumbed out? seems i kept my promise, hm?” not trusting your voice, you nod obediently, closing your eyes in content as he sighs. “shit, lets get you cleaned up, then i’ll drive.” suguru grimaces, pulling you up to sit back, smiling from your whine of dissatisfaction. “m’tired sugu”

“me too sweetheart, me too,” suguru hushes, leaning into a soft kiss that only makes you want to fall asleep, sighing against his lips, “ you did so good princess, let me take care of you..”

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queenie-the-court-jester · 2 months

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yandere bunny hybrid x reader

A/n: the Intro was rushed because I got too excited to write the smut. Not proofread 🌺

Tw: noncon turns to dubcon, androgynous breeding kink, little dirty talk, he's a horny bastard. Mommy kink but it can be applied to any gender. Slapping body parts, he has a minor lactation kink. Mdni please!

★you met the little furball while you were out on a evening walk. It was the middle of winter and being cooped up inside the house all day was starting to get a little claustrophobic

★you didn't notice him at first since he blended in with the snow. Stopping mid-walk when you heard a weak little whine coming from behind you. Slowly turning around, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from beneath the snow

★approaching them slowly, you could finally see him more clearly. Milky white skin turning a light blue due to hypothermia. He didn't have the strength to run when you picked him up. Patting his head, you headed back home.

★giving him a warm bath and setting him next to the fireplace, you slowly nursed him back to health. He was very reluctant at first, but your touch was too comforting to pull away from. He hasn't felt this safe since he was just a baby bun! He stayed with you nearly the entire winter

★midway he starts to get himself familiar with your home, peeking under furniture and into rooms, he seemed to understand you when you'd ask him questions in English

"what's your name little fella?"

"cotton.."

★eventually you had to let him go back into the wild, just a month before spring arrived. He was reluctant but with enough convincing he finally left. Looking back at you from the forest edge, watching you wave goodbye with that beautiful smile he loves

❣️cotton who goes into heat early because he can't stop thinking of you. Burrying himself in his burrow, humping the air. Nothing is as soft as you and your bed. Nothing can make him feel as safe as your touch does

❣️he shoos any females who wish to mate away. Claiming he already has a mate. Oh he wished you'd come into the forest looking for him, to take care of him again as he fills your tight little hole up with his cum

❣️he spends most of his time shamelessly masturbating to the thought of you. His entire heat cycle has been on loop since he left, so finally gathering the balls he heads back to your cottage. Watching you from a distance, lazily stroking his already sensitive cock.

★just minding your business, you don't notice the certain bunny hybrid approaching slowly. You don't have much time to react before a familiar mop of white hair tackles you to the ground. Desperately humping your clothed sex as he whines and grunts.

"cotton!? What the hell are you doing!?"

"hah- nhg need.. mate.. pretty mate.. need to breed! Ohh!"

★you tried pushing him off, but when did he get so strong!? Pining your arms down and ripping your clothes off, wasting no time in lapping at your genitals. Eating you out like a starved man, sucking and nipping your inner thighs until he's sure you're nice and lubed up

★he carefully pressed the tip in, but he doesn't last long as he slowly sinks deeper into your gummy walls. Letting go of your arms and roughly grabbing your hips, which were sure to bruise later, brutally fucking your brains out. Slapping your chest and privates as he grinds his cock deeper

★he keeps going even after he's ripped multiple orgasms out of you. The pleasure slowly chipping off your resistance. Leaving you a blubbering moaning mess under the bunny. A pool of his cum under where your sexes kept meeting.

★it doesn't matter what gender you are, he's determined to breed you until you're swelling with his children. He couldn't wait to suck and bite your chest once it was swollen with milk!

"gonna be so pretty- mph! So pretty, all swollen 'n fat with my babies.. gonna be a good mate, right? G-gonna give me lots of 'em right? Oh ohhh! Cumming again! 'Yer squeezing all my cum out! Mommy!!"

★let's just say that you should get use to your new roommate husband, because now there's no way of getting rid of him. Ever.

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emptycardboardboxes · 1 year

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i love space but i could not travel there.

in a weird way it would be claustrophobic-

there is a pressing intense feeling of that vast forever

of sending something out and never getting a reply

of existing in an incomprehensible space

of the small ship separating you from a drifting eternity.

it is different from other infinities,

the nearly man-made, the calculated and designed,

it can only be described as lonely.

orion, do you ever get lonely?

i look to you in the sky and i feel small.

the space between your vertices is far more vast than any world i’ll ever know.

you are surrounded by stars, but then again so are we.

perhaps we really are alone.

@nosebleedclub poetry month prompt 10 orion

#not my best work by any means #but i have writers block so i need to get something out #anyway i love space but its too much #i could not go there.#i love thinking about it #but whenever i think of going there it feels like walls pressing in #which is odd because im not claustrophobic #i think its more of a feeling of being trapped #like youre just floating in a ship inside of nothing #i want to write more about space #my writing #spilled ink #poetry #nosebleedclub #prompts #april #april 2023 #might delete this later

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luveline · 3 months

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ooo i love that you’re giving me free reign over ideas for pregnant bombshell and spencer.. maybe something really angsty where reader’s hormones are getting the best of her and she’s just really pissed at spencer for absolutely no reason? hope that makes sense

thank you for requesting <3 pregnant!reader

“I’m serious, Spencer Reid, you better leave me alone,” you warn.

Spencer gawps. Morgan glances between you both in concern, having seen hundreds of your conversations over the years and never one this sour. “But I–”

“I’m not kidding.” You glare at him, press your hand to your mouth, and spin away from him to march up the steps to Hotch’s office.

Spencer attempts to follow you. Morgan holds him back with one hand to the chest. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Spencer watches you until you’re gone. He frowns, upset in his eyes and his model pout. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“Is this a common occurrence?”

“No, never! But these last couple days she’s always angry with me.”

“It’s the baby hormones,” Morgan assures his friend, patting him and pushing him toward his desk. “Or you did something and don’t remember.”

“If I did, I really don’t.”

You stew in Hotch’s office. Morgan can imagine the conversation, your annoyance and Hotch’s light bemusement, your wondering if you’re being too harsh, and Hotch giving an amiable, neutral answer. Morgan can also imagine what Spencer thinks you’re doing, watching as his shoulders sink further and further down.

Spencer scratches a stressed hand through his hair. “I’ll go say sorry,” he says.

“Maybe that’s a good idea, but not yet. She needs time to cool down.”

Spencer frowns at his hands. “I don’t like when she’s mad at me like this. We’re always on the same page, I never have to guess what she’s thinking anymore.” He pulls at the neck of his shirt and his tight tie. “I feel like I’m twenty four again.”

“This is all new for her,” Morgan says. What Spencer doesn’t know is that he’s making this up as he goes. Spencer messed irretrievably for all he knows. “You just need to remember why she’s doing it in the first place, right? She’s loved you for years, one pregnancy induced moment of rage won’t change that. Probably.”

Spencer isn’t appeased. Worse when you emerge from Hotch’s office and walk straight to your desk without glancing Spencer’s way, and worse again when he attempts to talk to you and you shake your head. “Please, Spencer. Just leave me alone.”

Spencer spends the day in agony. The worry of what he’s done eats at him, and he attempts to make it up to you, ultimately making it worse. You frown at every cup of tea or water he brings you, glaring at the plate he serves you for lunch. The bullpen of the office sags under your fury. Spencer doesn’t eat a single bite all day.

It’s by chance that Morgan witnesses the full fallout on his way to the bathroom. You’re in the hallway just on the way to Penelope’s office with Spencer, who’s clearly followed you to give apologies and concern aplenty. He’s caught your hand.

“I don’t even know why you’re mad,” Spencer says hopelessly. He sounds heartbroken.

You look at your hands for a long while, seconds stretching and aching, before you hold your stomach and look to the side. “I’m sorry–” you say, cutting yourself off as your voice wobbles unsurely.

“What?” Spencer asks, startled.

“I don’t know,” —your breath shudders— “why I’m being so mean to you–”

“Angel–”

“I feel like I’m suffocating in my own skin and you’re just making me so angry hovering because I can look after myself, but I’m starting to think I can’t, and I look really stupid in my maternity clothes–”

“What’s wrong with your clothes?”

You huff sharply.

“I’m sorry,” he says, holding out his hands. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re just really pregnant right now and the hormones are messing with you,” —you scoff, but Spencer soldiers on— “I love how you look, and I love you even when you’re angry with me, and I’m sorry you feel claustrophobic. What can I do?”

Your glare softens slowly. “You’re not mad at me?”

“You’re mad at me, lovely.”

Morgan thinks that last bit is a nice touch. You wipe your blurry eyes and squeeze his hands, still breathing too fast and too hard but the anger having completely drained from your features, returning you to your usual beautiful state. You measure his gaze for a while, before resting your forehead on his chest, your bump in the way of a proper hug. “Do you still love me?” you ask quietly.

“No.” He laughs and kisses your temple, using his index finger to turn your face by your hairline carefully, giving him better view of your face. “Yeah, I still love you. I always do. I’m sorry I upset you that much, I’m not trying to smother you.”

“You didn’t, Spence, I upset myself, and I took it out on you… I’m sorry I was mean to you, earlier, you didn’t deserve it. It’s just hard.” You shake your head. “You never make me feel bad for being a diva and I wish you would.”

“Would that make you feel better?”

You sigh. “No, please keep being my sweetheart. Please.”

Spencer says something too quiet for Morgan to hear, but can be read from the lips as a promise as he sweeps his hand up and down your back.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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pseudowho · 4 months

Text

Operation: Babymaker-- Benchpress

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

Interrupt Kento's workout? Get ready to be manhandled 💛

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, manhandling, full nelson 💛

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"How strong are you, Kento? Really?"

In just his checked pyjama trousers, Nanami Kento still cut an imposing figure. Even though his waist was thick with muscle (though not with heavily defined decorative abs-- just subtle planes under freckled skin), his chest and shoulders broadened out dramatically, his arms thick and veiny, his hands bold and angular.

Kento paused, his coffee halfway to his lips, holding his book open with one hand, before answering; "Strong enough, I should think. Why?"

Just modest, you thought. You looked him slowly up and down, your filthy imagination whirring. You smiled, tucking your legs up under you on the sofa, cupping your tea between two hands.

"No reason."

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You couldn't help yourself from watching.

"One."

A home gym was a blessing for Kento, who neither worked out for enjoyment nor vanity, but purely for the demands of his job.

"Two."

He was away from home enough. And people at the gym stared so much, that Kento's workouts used to feel cloying, claustrophobic, skin prickling with the eyes of thirsty or envious fellow gym-goers.

"Three."

As he pulled himself up again, feeling everything in his body clench with exertion, he did, however, feel one pair of eyes on him.

"Four...why are you hiding in the shadows, hmm?"

You jumped, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. Your mind had been spirited away by thoughts too obscene to say out loud. Thoughts of being restrained. Thoughts of being grappled into submission, pinned, gasping. Thoughts made so easy to have about the man who you knew would never hurt you.

Stepping out from behind the doorframe, your coy demeanour made Kento huff, a short puff of air from his nose, and you watched blatantly as he finished his set. In snug shorts set halfway up his thighs, and a loose drop-sleeved tank top, you reasoned you couldn't be expected to take your eyes off him either.

Kento continued, walking over to the narrow Benchpress bench, beginning to place weights on the bars, one, after another, after another and you felt yourself filled with wicked intent.

"You can't lift that," you scoffed. Kento's jaw clenched, a small smile gracing his lips, as he continued shifting plates. Your words rolled off him, water off a duck's back. The ungoadable man.

"If you think you're going to interrupt me," Kento toned, smooth and reasonable, "you're wrong. I always get my workout done in 45 minutes, and..." he crooked his wrist, checking the time, "...I won't be late for anything."

Kento laid himself back on the narrow seat, no bench left at all on either side of his hips, the wings of his shoulders gaping out over the bench's confines. As the soft fabric of his shorts stretched over his thick thighs, settling over the prominent bulge of his groin, you gulped. Your mouth watered. And as Kento began to lift, with short ragged grunts rumbling from his chest, it all became too much to resist.

Kento's eyes were fixed upwards, hyper focused, feeling the impossibly deep ache of lifting something just about too heavy for him to lift. He barely noticed the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye-- you, languidly undressing down to your underwear, eyes fixed on Kento's thighs.

Kento jolted as he felt you settle, warm and blushing, straddling his spread thigh. He almost fumbled his lift, and coughed in alarm to see you sat, almost naked, pressing your core against his tensed muscles.

"Won't be late for anything? Even me? Even when I want your baby so badly, Kento," you purred, your hands coming up to remove your bra, dropping it onto Kento's twitching abs as your breasts slipped free. Kento felt a bead of sweat drop down his temple, and he growled at you in warning, frustrated to feel his composure wobble.

"Shit...you little-- got to keep to time--" Kento's arms shook as he completed the lift, resting the bar for a moment as he panted, and you rocked your hips against his thigh, pleasure immediately churning through you. Kento's jaw twitched, fists clenching and unclenching, determined to maintain his schedule, but feeling his body betray him, his cock twitching to life in his gym shorts.

Straight after, Kento reassured himself, fighting the urge to throw you over his shoulder, throw you onto the bed, and pound his cum into you until you begged for mercy, nearly done, keep to time, keep to time.

Kento's watch beeped, and he bolted to action, gripping the bar again, beginning another set of lifts-- anything to distract himself from you slipping your underwear to the side as you continued to rock your pussy, now wet and puffy, against his bare thigh. You sighed and keened, two hands planted for support on his hips, the palm of your hand brushing temptingly against his aching cock.

Kento groaned, unsure if it was from the painful stretch of the lift or from your desperate attention to his thigh, heat spreading across his shoulders and chest. His cock was throbbing now, uncomfortably tight in his shorts, pressed down at an awkward angle.

You watched Kento shift and twitch as you humped his thigh, and shivered with a sweet little moan as his muscles fluttered under your clit. Kento felt his throat go dry when your hands drifted lazily to pinch and roll your own nipples. He could feel you getting closer to orgasm, and it drove him mad that he wasn't filling your belly with his seed at the same time.

Leaning forwards, still panting, furiously rutting against Kento's thigh, drips of your arousal now running down the sides, you ghosted your hands over the outline of his cock. Kento gasped mid-lift, almost dropping the bar onto himself.

"Fuck--" he gasped, snapping your name. He hopped one hand centrally on the bars, and clapped his other hand over yours pressed to his erection, "--wait a few minutes or I swear, you're going to kill me--" Kento's words caught in his chest, his other hand darting up to stabilise the tilting bar, as you lowered his shorts, his cock springing free against his clenching abs.

With a lip-biting, devious smile, you waited until Kento had begun another lift, still stubbornly refusing to stop his workout, before grasping his cock, and laying a long, flat-tongued lick to the underside from ball to tip.

Kento cursed like a sailor, his elbows buckling, the bars lilting sideways with a metallic smash into the dock. Spitting curses at you, coming out of him in a series of growling chastisements, Kento coughed again, a spurt of pre-cum salting your tongue as you giggled around his needy cockhead.

Kento fumbled, lost in your wet little mouth sucking him in. He struggled to lift the bars again to place them in their dock, as your thighs cramped and trembled, approaching your orgasm.

His hands splayed above him like a surprised kitten, his chin to his chest as he stared down at you in fury and alarm, Kento groaned. His head snapped back to press to the bench, then back to his chest to watch your nose graze his honey-blonde hair again.

As he moved a hand down to tangle in your hair, colours popping in his eyes in ecstasy, you released his cock with a wet suck, mouth falling open as you came on his thigh. With one hand still gripping Kento by the cock, he bit into the back of his knuckles to stop himself from emptying into your hand.

Kento still glared at you in barely-restrained fury, for having nearly ended his life through means of a deadly benchpress, and opened his mouth to bark at you. His orgasm still threatened at the edge of a precipice.

"Not only am I now late," he growled, "you almost killed me-- I don't know which one is worse, I--"

When you moved up his body, straddling his hips and rolling your slick heat along his cock, Kento gripped the bars above him again for sanity, spitting feathers at you again, infuriatingly flustered.

"Thought if you were that strong," you panted, cheeks flushed and euphoric, "you could do both at once." Kento huffed at you again like an angry bull and, as if to prove a point, rolled the bar in his palms, shifting his shoulders, brick-like and tense, ready to begin another lift.

For a second time, as Kento moved into another benchpress, you raised yourself above his weeping cock, and sunk down onto his length, your wet walls plump and stretchy and inviting him to bottom out in one slick movement.

Kento moaned, his hips lifting you clear of the bench for a second as he brought the bar down to his chest, twitching and heaving with exertion and twisted pleasure. You stayed flush, rocking backwards and forwards, revelling in the fullness of him inside you, not pulling him out of you for a second.

Kento thought he had died and seen heaven when, the moment he pushed upwards to lift the weights off his chest, you leaned forwards and whispered up to him; "Hey, Kento-- I'm ovulating."

Kento came with a hoarse, wounded cry, everything pushing out of his body at once as he completed the lift, and his cum spurted up into you with mind-blowing force. Groaning a series of short, agonised groans, his cock still jumping and gushing, he slopped the bar back into the dock. You continued to rock his seed into you, eyes closed and a satisfied little smile on your face. Kento saw red.

You felt yourself being instantly grappled. Kento lifted your thighs up towards you enough that he could spin to you face the other way, his cock still plugging his cum inside you. Lifting you against him, locking your arms behind your head and your knees beside them, Kento dropped you both to the gym mat, completely restraining you in a full-nelson.

You squeaked, trying to squirm. It was absolutely futile, and you felt Kento's hot breath in your ear.

"Not that strong, hmm?" He hummed, low and threatening, "Strong enough to open your pickle jars for years though, apparently." You started to laugh, and cut off abruptly as Kento squeezed you tighter, chuckling as you squeaked again. His chuckle stretched into a groan, low and lusty, at the feeling of your pussy throbbing around his length, which had barely softened, and was rapidly hardening again.

Grappling you with his back to the floor, Kento shunted his cock up into you, satisfied at you crying out and pressing back against him; "Not that strong?" Kento planted a harsh kiss to your temple, and bucked up into you again, satisfied to feel you melt, helpless in his hold. Kento felt a lick of pride run through him as he continued to hammer upwards into you, the air filled with the squelch of his cock in your cum-filled cunt.

"Punched men through concrete-- haaah, shit-- crushed Curses under brick walls," Kento listed, grunting and ruthless as he slammed into you now, feeling his tip bully into your cervix, "and look at you now-- more origami than woman-- and you will take every-- fucking-- bit-- of --it--" Kento snapped his hips back to punctuate each word, and you mewled pitifully at him, tears streaking into your hair.

Kento laughed, feeling himself peaking again, licking your tears away with mock-gentle shushes, captivated by the way your tits bounced every time he rutted up into you.

"So-ooo-- good-- Kentooo-ooo," you squeaked out around his thrusts, a thick hot pleasure roiling in your womb as you begged him, "h--harder--please." Kento snorted, his hands gripping your thighs harder, lifting you off him to slap you back down in time with him pressing up into you. You shuddered, marshmallow-soft, twitching in pleasure as your second orgasm washed through your belly, ready to gulp Kento into you.

Kento was awash with the closeness of you, the delicious hot wet suck of your walls around his cock, the thought of you round and full and growing, because of him. Keeping you restrained with one thick forearm holding your thighs and arms back, his other hand drifted to your belly, pressing lightly, feeling the jolt as his cock rammed against your cervix.

Feeling your pussy squeeze and flutter around him, Kento's grip never faltered as he gasped, husky and satisfied, feeling his cock spurt inside you again, rolling you from side to side as he thrust lazily up into you, careful to not allow any of his seed to slip free. He lay with you in his arms for a few moments hand massaging your belly, willing his cum to soak up inside you.

With one final slow groan, Kento pulled out of you, pressing your thighs together on exit, and releasing you from the trap of his arms. Though you had planned to fall asleep, there and then, on the gym mats, Kento had other ideas.

You felt yourself being scooped up, held upside down against Kento by the waist, and he walked you to his pull-up bar across the room. You were appalled to feel him drape your legs over it, and as he let go of you, you were forced to hang upside down by the backs of your knees, a child on the monkey-bars.

"Kento!" You squeaked, appalled, cupping your breasts in your hands as he dusted off his hands and moved to settle himself again for benchpressing, "You-- how dare you-- you can't just hang me up like wet laundry!"

Kento hummed smilingly to himself as he checked his watch, reaching up to grip the bars again;

"Well darling, I've got a workout to finish. And you've got a baby to make. Isn't that what all this nonsense was about?"

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Up next: Ditch the Party Part 2 and more surprises

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arieslost · 3 months

Note

you have pushed me to ask so here I go

I present my idea of motorcyclist!oscar and his gf who is afraid of motorcycles. He convinces her to try it onc3 and BOOM hands around him holding on the dear life.

I want to hold on to him

I can't stop thinking about that tiktok

here's a ss I took from the tiktok edit

what a yummy man

the entire time i wrote this i kept coming back to look at this picture because oh my goodness gracious. i hope this lives up to ur expectations <33 definitely wanna write more biker!osc after this

hold on tight | op81

“Just one time?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No way.”

“Do you even love me at all?” Oscar asks dramatically, jutting his lower lip out for extra effect.

“That’s not going to work on me, Piastri.” You shake your head vehemently. “I refuse to get on that death machine. It’s bad enough that you ride it all the time.”

“Come onnnn,” he whines, tugging you up off of the bed and into his arms.

The two of you look like polar opposites— him with his leather jacket and riding gloves still on, smelling faintly of exhaust, and you in plaid pajama pants and one of his worn out t-shirts. You suppose that’s what makes your relationship work so well, opposites attract and whatever. All relationships take compromise though, and this is one “compromise” that, thus far, you’ve refused to make.

In your eyes, it’s not a compromise. But Oscar has been asking you to be his “backpack” practically since the two of you met.

“What do I have to do to convince you?” He’s asking, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Hmm, nothing.” You smile up at him, and it fades just as fast when you see the excitement in his eyes. “Because it’s never going to happen. I like being alive, thank you very much.”

“Baby, you know you’ll be safe with me. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He says sincerely, his pleading tone now gone. “I’ve been riding my entire life. I did all the crashing before I got my license. Haven’t crashed since.”

“Yeah, that makes me feel better.” You mutter, hiding your face in his chest so he can’t see your resolve slowly starting to crumble.

“It would be so fun,” he continues, arms tightening around your frame as he starts to sway you both side to side a little. “All you’d have to do is hold on to me. I’ll do all the work. You trust me, don’t you?”

“With all things except the death machine,” you say, voice muffled by the material of his jacket.

“I love you, but I’m gonna need you to stop calling her ‘the death machine,’ honey.”

“Her?” You look up at him, affronted. “I’m definitely not doing it now. Wouldn’t want to get between you and the other woman in your life.”

Oscar laughs. His laugh has always been more of a giggle around you, which is such a contrast to his outward appearance that it never fails to make you melt.

“You’re the only woman for me, which is why you’re the only woman I’ve ever asked to be my backpack.” He says.

“Don’t try to butter me up with the whole backpack thing again.” You roll your eyes and try to pull away from him, but he somehow manages to twirl you and bring you right back into him.

“It’s not me buttering you up, I’m just telling the truth. Come on, baby.” he leans in and gives you a long kiss that leaves your head spinning a little. “One time. And if you don’t like it, I promise I won’t ask again.”

You let out a frustrated groan, because he has to know that he’s won at this point. That kiss was nothing but tactical. “Fine. Fine. But you can’t just kiss me like that every time you want something from me, it’s unfair.”

“Yes, yes!” He squeezes you into him, kissing the top of your head over and over. “You won’t regret this.”

“I already am a little bit.” You grumble.

That’s how you find yourself standing on the sidewalk with Oscar in front of you adjusting a helmet on your head.

“This is making me claustrophobic,” you complain as he flips the visor up so he can see your face.

“I’m just making sure you’re safe, baby.” When you furrow your eyebrows, he sighs and drops his hands to his sides. “If you really don’t want to do this, you don’t have to, okay?”

This makes you relent a little bit. “Osc, I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I don’t like motorcycles, like, at all.” You smile as best you can with the helmet on, hoping it goes to your eyes so he can see it. “I want to do this. You just… you really have to help me.”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. “Of course, honey. C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you over to his motorcycle. While you’re terrified just looking at it, you can’t deny that it’s absolutely beautiful. Streamlined and sleek, like he literally just bought it, even though you know he’d already had it for a year when you first met him.

He looks almost the same as he did when you first met— all black getup, signature leather jacket, riding gloves, and of course, his strangely colorful helmet that doesn’t match the rest of him. His hair was long when you met him, and you still remember being absolutely starstruck when you saw his face for the first time. It had felt like everything went into slow motion when he took his helmet off, pushed his hair back, and instantly made eye contact with you from where you were just exiting the bookstore.

Needless to say, you were done for. And now here you are, a year later, letting him help you onto the death machine.

He never said you had to stop calling it (sorry, her) that if you were thinking it to yourself.

“You okay? Comfy?” Oscar asks, reaching to adjust your helmet one more time.

“Yup. Mhmm. Totally.” You nod, not even trying to sound convincing considering your heart is in your throat and he hasn’t even started the engine yet.

“Great,” he kisses the top of your helmet and smiles at you cutely before climbing onto the bike so he’s seated in front of you. “Just hold on tight, okay baby? Like this.”

He reaches behind him, grabbing your hands that had been anxiously scratching at the material of your jeans and pulling you forward so your arms are wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t have to say anything else– you’re quick to tighten your hold around him, fingers clutching at the material of his open jacket. You immediately feel your anxieties begin to dissipate as soon as you’re holding onto him, and you shift your whole body forward on the seat so your front is pressed as close as it can be to his back. When he lets out a quiet grunt, you release your grip a little.

“I’m sorry! Am I holding you too tight?” “No, no,” he huffs out a laugh, patting your thigh. “Do whatever you need to do. Just warn me if you’re planning to suffocate me at all.”

“Listen, Piastri–” you begin, and he cuts you off by twisting around to look at you.

“Okay, I get it, I’m sorry.” He’s giggling now, and you let go of him to smack his helmet. “I’m done, I promise. As long as you feel safe, honey.”

“Come on, let’s go before I chicken out.” You say, quickly reassuming your hold.

It’s times like these where you appreciate just how buff your boyfriend is. He has something of a sleeper build, so one quick glance at him wouldn’t really reveal much, but when you’re pressed up against him like this, you can feel the muscles in his back and shoulders and his abs through his shirt when your hand slips past his jacket. He’s warm and solid against you, and that in itself is comforting enough that you don’t go flying off the seat when he starts up the engine and you instantly feel your whole body start to vibrate from the force of it.

“I’ll check in with you, okay?” He says over the loud rumbling. “Hit me in the head or something and I’ll pull over. Sound good?” Having him to hold on to is nice, but your throat is still dry thinking about all the dastardly possibilities that could occur when the bike starts moving, so you have to swallow a couple times in order for him to hear you over the engine. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Your heart falls out of your ass and lands on the pavement when he pulls out onto the road, the engine roaring as he accelerates.

“God, please spare me,” you say out loud, grateful that Oscar can’t hear you over the engine.

As soon as he gets onto the freeway, that’s when you realize just how much fun you’ve been missing out on.

It’s never been a secret to you that Oscar loves going fast. There have been plenty of occasions where you’ll drive somewhere, do whatever it is you have planned, and then you’ll turn to him and ask if he wants to drive home just to give him some peace of mind knowing that the journey back will be cut down by a few minutes at least. Being in the car is fun enough, but being on the back of his motorcycle is different.

You thought you’d be more scared. You’re terrified, sure, but even though you can feel the wind whipping against your clothes and you’re flying past cars on either side of the freeway, you’re holding on to Oscar, and you could easily do that forever. You’re quickly warming up to the concept of being his backpack, and you can feel yourself relaxing your death grip around him. This is actually kind of fun. Okay, really fun. You actually can’t believe you were so adamantly refusing to do this this whole time.

Every so often, he reaches back with one hand and rubs your thigh, or holds one of your hands that is now tucked comfortably into his jacket pocket. You thought you’d be freaking out about him taking a hand off the handlebars, but he exudes confidence on the bike, and he never wavers no matter what he’s doing with his hands.

He doesn’t go very far; the whole ride lasts maybe 20 minutes, but it feels like half that with how quick the bike is. Your arms ache from all the muscles in them working the whole time, and when he helps you off the back of the bike your legs feel like jello.

“How was it?” He asks, helping you pull the bulky helmet off your head.

Your hair falls in your face and he brushes it away for you before you can even lift your hands. He cups your cheeks, a small smile on his face as he admires you.

“We are definitely doing that again.”

His smile grows, and he places a sweet, adoring kiss on your lips. “I knew I finally found my backpack.”

word count: 1,787

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: writing this has me thinking up a whole biker au for multiple drivers... thank you for this gold mine of a request <33

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings

#aries answers #venus <3 #op81 week #full fic #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff

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yxngbxkkie · 5 months

Text

7 minutes in heaven (b.c)

so, i found a forced proximity prompt list and decided that i want to dabble in a few of them. and, channie is the first one 🤭 i hope you guys like it! let me know what you think 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

“Jihyun, I told you I don't like these kinds of games,” you tell your roommate, trying to get her to stop dragging you.

She stops, and you almost run into her. “Oh come on, Y/N. It's our last year of college. You need to live a little,” she scolds you, narrowing her eyes.

“I can live a little. I don't have to play childish games in a frat house to live,” you remind her, not fond of how she's speaking to you.

“Just one round, and then we can leave,” Jihyun attempts to negotiate, squeezing your hand in hers. “Plus, Chan is playing.”

The tips of your ears start to turn red at the thought of Bang Chan, the president of this frat, Theta Kappa Phi. You've had the biggest crush on him since your sophomore year.

You press your lips together before glancing around. “One round, and I'm gone,” you tell her in a hushed whisper.

Your roommate claps her hands and continues leading you into one of the many bedrooms. Your heart pounds in your chest as you lower yourself onto the floor.

“It's a strange sight to see you, Y/N,” Chan greets you with a soft smile.

A shy chuckle leaves your lips as you nod your head. “It's strange to be here,” you giggle, tucking some hair behind your ear.

Chan chuckles and pats your leg. “Well, Jihyun talks about you a lot, so I'm glad that you could make it.”

Butterflies swarm around your stomach at his touch. Hyunjin runs in with an empty bottle before either of you can say anything else. The other drunk students around you cheer as the taller man sets the bottle in the middle of the circle.

“Who would like to start?” Hyunjin grins, holding his hands out.

“How about our wonderful President,” Felix suggests, smirking lightly.

Chan laughs, and he shakes his head. “I don't want to go first,” he mentions, his eyes dancing between his two buddies.

“Too late, spin old man,” Hyunjin laughs, lowering himself to the floor.

You watch Chan sigh and move to sit on his knees. His veiny hands grasp the clear bottle before he spins it fast. You don't realize you're holding your breath as you keep your eyes on the bottle.

No fucking way… You think to yourself when the bottle stops on you. You can feel your heartbeat pounding as his eyes meet yours.

Cheers and hollers echo off of the walls as you grow more and more embarrassed. Chan releases a sigh, standing to his feet before holding his hand out to you.

“Come on,” he whispers loud enough for you to hear.

You swallow thickly, reaching out to grab his hand. Chan pulls you off of the floor and leads you towards the hallway closet. He opens the door and allows you to go in first.

Clasping your hands together as you peek into the dimly lit closet. “Uhm,” you pause, tilting your head to look up at him. “Is now… is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?”

“Shit, really?” He mutters, a frown settling in on his face. Chan starts to mumble incoherently, trying to figure out a solution.

You tuck your lip between your teeth and decide to do it anyway. “If we keep the light on, I'll be okay,” you reassure him, not wanting to miss out on this opportunity.

“Are you sure?” He asks while stroking your arms. “I don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“With you, I'll be okay,” you end up blurring out.

Chan's frown turns into a smile, and he nods his head. “Okay. I'll go in first,” he says before stepping into the tiny closet.

You follow him, pressing your hand against his chest as he shuts the door. You can feel the palms of your hands beginning to sweat, and you start to fiddle with his shirt.

“You okay?” Chan whispers, bringing his hand up to move the hair out of your face.

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head slowly.

He brings one of his arms around your waist, tugging your body closer to his. You lift your head to look at him, hoping he can't feel how fast your heart's beating. His eyes stare into yours as his hand gently rubs your lower back.

The longer the two of you stare at each other, the more you notice the light freckles decorating his cheeks. Your gaze flickers between admiring his freckles and his dark eyes.

“I've never noticed your freckles before,” you whisper to him, lifting a hand to gently touch them. “It's cute.”

Chan giggles, dipping his head down. “You can see them?” He asks, bringing his free hand to his other cheek. “I haven't gotten much sun, so they're pretty light.”

“Mm, yeah,” you agree, dragging the tip of your finger to each one you find. “They're pretty light, but I can see them at this angle.”

“And, you think they're cute?” He asks, leaning his face closer to you.

You nod your head, not trusting your voice as the guy you've had a crush on for two years gets closer. Your eyes flutter shut when his nose brushes yours, your breath hitching.

“I'm going to kiss you, okay?” Chan mutters against your lips, your heart jumping at the light touch.

“Yeah… yeah,” you breathe out, releasing a deep breath.

He fully plants his lips on yours, and your grip on his shirt tightens. You're kissing your crush. He asked to kiss you. He's actually kissing you. The hand on his face glides to the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the ends of his hair.

“Shit, your lips are so soft,” Chan mumbles, pulling away from you.

Giggles leave your lips, finding yourself a blushing mess. He leans in to give you a quick kiss, a groan coming from him after.

“It's that great?” You ask with a laugh, your hand stroking his clothed pec.

“You have no idea,” he whispers before reattaching your lips.

A moan comes from you while sliding your other arm around his neck. You kiss him back with just as much passion, leaning on your toes to deepen it further.

Chan glides his hands down your waist, resting on the back of your thighs. “Jump for me,” he mutters, and you do as he says.

He holds you in his arms, pressing you against the wall behind you. Your ankles lock together, a little scared that he'll end up dropping you.

Pounding on the door snaps you from your little makeout session. Chan's lips find a place on your chest as Hyunjin calls from outside the closet.

“Time's up! Come on!” He laughs, pounding his fist against the wooden object again.

“Chan,” you giggle, tugging his head back by his hair. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut while keeping his plump lips parted. “We have to go.”

“Stay over?” He asks, gently setting you back onto your feet. “We can get breakfast in the morning.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling even more. This man… When he's like this, he's irresistible. You can't say no.

“I'll stay over on one condition,” you tell him, tapping the tip of his nose. He nods his head, motioning for you to continue. “When we get breakfast tomorrow, it's a date.”

Chan grins ear to ear, nodding his head vigorously. “Absolutely, deal. Seal it with a kiss,” he says before stealing one more kiss.

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 2 months

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Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfics #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff

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d4yl1ghts · 9 days

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late escapes (2)

benedict bridgerton x shy, fem!reader

summary: after an unlikely spark flies between you and benedict, you spend a scandalous moment in a carriage together

warnings: breast play (barely)

A/N- here is the much requested part 2! it is a bit cringe but…

part 1

You and Benedict had been talking in your hidden corner for an hour and a half before you decided to leave. The two of you talked about the most obscure things; it was typically Benedict who spoke his new thought. That is what lead you to now, gazing into Benedict’s gorgeous eyes as he stared back with his lips curved upwards.

“Shall we head home? You can enter my carriage with me if you would like.”, he offered. “Of course. Thank you.”, you smiled at him before glancing down at your hands nervously. He then linked your arms which left you with a blazing blush across your cheeks. As you reached the entrance of the carriage, Benedict guided you up the stairs like the gentleman he was.

Amidst the cosy atmosphere of the carriage, you couldn’t help but feel slightly claustrophobic as Benedict was opposite you with your knees almost touching. You liked it but also didn’t at the same time.

You delicately gazed out of the window, admiring London’s landscape. Benedict was almost admiring something- you. You turned to look at him after seeing him staring at you through your peripheral vision. You looked at him quizzically and he looked down in shame almost. You continued to ignore him for most of the journey.

Benedict abruptly grabbed your hand with a careful touch and you alarmingly pulled away. You flushed deeply. “Sorry.”, you muttered as you avoided his caring eyes. “I am sorry.”, he apologised. This time, however, you felt more confident and so you decided to gaze at him for short periods of time.

At that moment, the carriage just had to drive over a large bump and so you were shoved onto the edge of Benedict’s lap. “I apologise. It seems the carriage drove away a bump.”, you gently stared at him. You pulled away from his lap but before you could do so, Benedict grabbed your hand as he did before. You had the urge to move your hand away but resisted.

He stared into your eyes and you could feel his breath fanning your face. “Benedict…”, you mumbled quietly. “Hmm?”, he uttered as he surveyed you and admired your features. You simply stared at him. He slowly leant in, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips before you could kiss back. You placed your hands in his chestnut hair before gently kissing him and he copied you with an increased sense of passion.

He moved his forehead against yours as you pulled away for air. He then began kissing your neck and you pulled at his hair. He continued kissing down until he reached your breasts where he stopped and glanced at you for consent to which you nodded.

Benedict placed his lips on your right breast and gently bit it as he moved his hand to your other breast, squeezing it through your dress. You let out quiet noises of approval. He continued nipping and playing with your breasts until the carriage suddenly stopped and only then did you realise that you were outside your house.

“I hope no one saw us.”, you voiced your worries. “If they did, they will have only sped up the process of our marriage.”, he stated charmingly. You glanced at him before exiting the vehicle. “Lady Y/N, it has been a pleasure. I do hope to see you soon. I’m sure I will find you in a corner of a ball.”, he smirked as he waved you off. You knew that you would see him in the future and as he had previously mentioned, you could even get married soon.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #fem!reader

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qtboni · 11 months

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╰﹒ 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: After an argument with you, Simon feels a deep sense of remorse for the pain he caused and the distance he has created between himself and you. He proposes watching a movie together as a way to reconcile however, during the movie, Simon notices that you were zoning out. And when confronted, you burst into tears and reveal deep-seated emotions that you have been keeping to yourself.

C/W: Angst + hurt w/ comfort !! mentions of alcohol (drinking), offensive languages, mentions of overthinking for reader, both parties are hurt 'nd crying

W/C: 3.5k bubs

The silence was almost unbearable as you sat alone in the dimly lit living room, feeling increasingly claustrophobic. The weight of Simon's words hung in the air, making you feel like you couldn't catch your breath.

The room felt cold, the air thick with your tension. You tried to breathe deeply, filling your lungs with oxygen in hopes that it would calm the pounding of your heart. But it was no use.

You were trapped. Trapped in the silence, trapped in the aftermath of the argument.

You couldn't shake the feeling that this was all your fault. Maybe if you hadn't said anything, or if you had just kept your mouth shut, things wouldn't have escalated like they did.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you fought back the urge to cry again.

This wasn't how your night was supposed to go.

The pain in your heart was all too real, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. You wanted to scream, to cry, to let go of the emotions, but you couldn't.

Instead, you lay on the couch, your body motionless except for the tears running down your face.

"Can you just stop being a bother?"

Exhaused. You felt so exhausted that you find that sleeping right now would've sufficed your hurt. Even if the tears would have left dry tear marks in the early morning when you get up.

Your thoughts raced, your mind filled with the sound of Simon's words, replaying over and over again like a broken record.

"I didn't even ask for any of these."

You couldn't stop obsessing over what he'd said, what he'd meant, whether or not he meant it. All you knew was that the hurt was too much to bear.

Until your body had enough.

After taking a moment to process what had just happened, you felt... numb. Your breaths came slowly and evenly, your eyes no longer brimming with tears, and your hiccups no longer piercing the silence of the room.

You sighed and sat up properly on the couch, rubbing your eyes as you tried to banish the images of Simon's anger from your mind.

You decided to distract yourself by focusing on the task at hand: cleaning up the living room from the party's remnants. You made your way over to the coffee table, picking up the empty plates, the two drinks for you and Simon, and the now cold popcorn.

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar scent of butter and salt waft up from the table, and started to gather everything up.

As you worked, you couldn't help but think about what Simon was up to in the bedroom. You didn't want to know, but the silence was deafening, and you couldn't help but wonder.

'Maybe he's finally sleeping...' you sincerely thought.

After cleaning up the living room, you made your way to the kitchen, your feet dragging against the hardwood floor with each step. You opened the fridge and grabbed a light alcohol, pouring yourself a glass as you made your way to the countertop.

You sat down, swirling the liquid around in the glass, then taking a slow sip. The familiar taste of alcohol burned in your throat, sending a shiver down your spine.

You closed your eyes, feeling the headache coming on, and massaged your temples. Your mind felt tired, your body felt heavy, and all you wanted to do was slip into bed and sleep.

You took another small sip and sighed, feeling a little bit better as the alcohol began to take effect.

Suddenly, a hand gently touched your arm, making you jump. "What-" you muttered to yourself.

You turned to face Simon, who was standing behind you. He looked exhausted, with red eyes and bags under them. He couldn't look at you in your eyes after that and so he resorted to lean himself closer to you when he noticed that you eased your body to him, obviously calm with him touching you after the argument you guys had.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to say those things. I was just so angry, and I didn't think about how much they would hurt you."

His voice cracked as he spoke, and you could feel the sincerity in his words. You could also feel your heart breaking all over again at the thought of the things he had said, even though it was clear that he was truly sorry.

"I know it doesn't make it right, but I just wanted to apologize," he continued, his tone softer than you've ever heard before. "I shouldn't have let my anger get the better of me like that."

Despite your hurt, you found yourself nodding. "It's alright, Si'." You replied, eyes averting away from him. With a sigh, you took a sip from your glass. "Everyone has their moments, hun."

"Can we just start over?" he asked gently, reaching out to touch your hand. "I'm sorry, I... I just want us to be happy..."

Your gaze met his, and even though it was filled with regret and remorse, you could still see the love and care in his eyes. You knew that he meant every word he said, and that he would do anything to make things right between the two of you.

"I'm..." You said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "willing to try, sweetheart..."

As you sat beside Simon, taking in his words of apology, you felt a pit form in the bottom of your stomach. You had wanted to hear those words from him for so long, to know that he was truly remorseful for the pain he had caused you.

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn't quite escape the feeling of hurt that still lingered.

"I'm willing to try, for us." You continued so softly, your voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "I know it takes a lot to admit when you're wrong, and I appreciate you doing that."

You reached out, taking hold of his hand in yours, trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be okay. But deep down, you still felt the pain of his words, and you weren't sure if you could ever truly forgive him.

"I can't deal with this right now."

You had buried your true feelings deep inside, hiding them in the dark, just for his comfort. And in that moment, you didn't know which way was up.

Just for his comfort? What about yours?

The silence stretched between you and Simon, a small part of you wanting him to say something to make it better, to make it all go away. But he merely looked at you, his expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice filled with sincerity. "I know it won't be easy, but I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make things right between us over and over again."

You wanted to believe him, to feel the hope and love that you had once shared. You really do.

But the pain still lingered, a constant reminder of the broken promises and the tears that had come before.

You sat in silence for a few moments, processing Simon's phrases. His words sounded sincere, and you wanted to believe that he was genuinely sorry for the hurt he caused you.

But you can't shake the feeling that you may never be able to fully forgive him.

Simon reached out and took your hand in his, and you couldn't help but notice the warmth in his touch. His voice was steady, soft, with a hint of tenderness that sent shivers down your shoulders.

"Say, love?" He called out to you. "Do you want to go and have that movie night again? 2.0?"

You were caught off guard by the proposal, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I..."

You had been expecting to spend the evening alone, nursing your wounds and attempting to forget the hurt in your heart. The thought of going back to that place was excruciating, but the look on Simon's face was one of pure determination.

He wanted to make it up to you, and he was willing to do whatever it took. You hesitated before speaking, not wanting to give in to the emotions that were racing through your mind.

"Do you really want to?" You asked, turning your face away from him as tears began to form at the corners of your eyes.

You had been trying so hard to stay strong, but your heart ached with the realization that you still loved him, despite the hurt and betrayal.

'God, were you just so pathetic.' A voice in your head echoed.

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied, his tone gentle and full of affection. "I want to make it up to you. Please, let me prove it to you."

Despite your doubts and insecurities, you nodded slowly, allowing yourself to be overcome by the overwhelming love you felt for him.

"Let's do it," You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

You can't believe it, can't believe that you would really put him first than yourself. You can't believe that you considered the proposal just because Simon's words and actions spoke volumes to you.

You could see the determination in his eyes, and the way he looked at you made your heart ache. You had been so torn apart by his previous actions, the thought of him trying to make it up to you and showing he cared about you brought you even more glumness.

You watch as Simon's face broke into a wide smile, and he reached out to take your hand again, exclaiming, "Fantastic! You won't regret it, love. Let's make it the best movie night we've ever had!"

The movie became a haze, and you barely spoke a word, lost in the emotions that were running through you as you sought out comfort in the awkward room.

Save from Simon's often comments about the movie, it was just your thoughts swimming around. It was quiet. It was making you feel self-conscious.

But you wouldn't want to upset him, god, was it so wholesome trying his best to make it up to you. You couldn't afford to do something that might impact this negatively. So you stayed quiet, only answering in small replies to his comments about the movie.

Even though you were with Simon, you felt like you were alone. You were battling thoughts and feelings that would take over if you let them. But you were holding on for Simon, not wanting to break what you guys have in this moment.

You appreciated his efforts but it was hard to forget what happened. You wanted to let it go but it was still so fresh and raw.

The silence was deafening but you didn't want to break it with how you were feeling. You were still processing what happened and didn't want to burden Simon anymore than he already was. So you stayed quiet, watching the movie with Simon and trying to distract yourself from your thoughts.

So you sat silently next to Simon, watching the movie in front of you as he blabbered on and on about the movie. At this point, you don't even give a shit at watching it anymore.

You tried not to let your thoughts wander to the things that were weighing on your mind, not wanting to ruin the peaceful moment. It was so hard to keep up the façade, though.

You knew that if you let even a little of the sadness seep through, it would be so hard to keep it all contained in the face of his concern. It was so nice to have him by your side, but the thought of him seeing how much you were hurting just made everything worse.

So you stayed quiet, trying to keep your emotions in check. Then, you felt a lump forming in your throat. You were unsure of how to move forward from here.

And what will happen onwards? Like nothing had happened?

Suddenly, the silence was broken by Simon's voice. "Hey," he muttered, his eyes fixed on you now. "What's wrong?"

You swallowed hard, feeling your emotions welling up inside. "It's nothing," You dryly replied. "I just zoned out is all."

You wanted to tell him how much his words had hurt, but the words refused to come. Instead, you just sat there in silence, staring at the floor, your heart pounding in your chest.

Simon seemed to sense your discomfort, and his expression softened. "I know I have a lot of things to work on," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I promise I'm going to do better. For you."

His words seemed to fall flat against your ears, almost lost in the overwhelming pain you felt. You wanted to believe him, to believe that things could get better, but a part of you was still unsure.

The silence filled the room again, thick with the weight of your emotions. You wanted to say something, to tell him how you felt, but you just couldn't. Instead, you remained there, silent, feeling the loneliness settle around you like a blanket.

Tears started to well up in your eyes as the words and emotions started to bubble up from inside you. You tried to hold back the tears, but they just kept overflowing, streaming down your face.

"Simon," you managed to say through choked sobs, the words barely intelligible. "I don't know how to say this, but I just can't keep it all inside any longer. You've hurt me so much earlier, over and over again. And I know I've probably hurt you too, but it's just that I can't seem to fix it. I feel like I've tried everything, but nothing works."

Your voice was shaking with emotion as you spoke, the words coming out like a river. You weren't sure if Simon was listening, but you kept talking anyway, the tears streaming down your face.

"I feel so hopeless," you managed to utter, the words catching in your throat. "I don't know if we can ever make this work. But I love you so much, Simon, and I want to try. I want to try so hard, because I know there's something between us that's worth fighting for. I just don't know what to do. I don't know anymore."

The silence filled the room again, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. You were left feeling vulnerable and exposed, with nowhere to hide.

You continued to say how you felt, the pain in your heart pouring out with every word.

You told Simon about how much his words had hurt you, how his refusal to listen to your thoughts and feelings made you feel like a burden to him. You couldn't help but wonder what you had done wrong to deserve such treatment.

As you talked, the tears fell from your eyes, each one representing the pain that you had been holding inside for so long. As you cried, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, a weight that had been dragging you down for far too long.

"I've been trying so hard to show you how much I care," you sobbed. "I don't know why it's not enough. What else can I do to make you see me? To make you understand that I love you, and that I'll do anything to make this work?"

As you finished speaking, you fell silent, the tears still streaming down your face. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the only sound the soft sob of your breath. You felt a sense of exhaustion wash over you, as if all the emotions you had been holding back had finally been released.

The silence continued to fill the room, and for a moment it seemed as though time itself had stopped. Neither of you spoke, and it was as though the weight of your words hung in the air between you.

After what felt like an eternity, Simon reached out and took your hand. His touch was warm and comforting, and it seemed as though some part of him understood the pain that you were feeling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant to hurt you like that. I just got caught up in my own thoughts, forgetting how important you are to me- which is a pretty damn shit move. I'm really sorry, darlin'."

You looked up at him, tears still streaming down your face. You wanted to believe him, to believe that he truly understood the pain that you were feeling. But you couldn't shake the fear that it was all just a temporary moment of kindness, and that soon enough he would go back to treating you the way he had before.

You didn't want to get hurt again, but you couldn't help but hope that this time might be different.

Maybe this time, he truly did understand...

Simon reached out and gently wiped away your tears, his touch providing a small measure of comfort.

You watch as tears pooled into his eyes too, but he still continued, "You're not a burden, my love, and you never have been. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I'm the fucking asshole here. I want to show you that.. that I can make things right."

Simon's voice was hoarse with emotion as he spoke, his words barely above a whisper. He couldn't believe what he'd done to you, how he'd hurt the person he loved the most. He hated himself for the pain he'd caused, and he cursed himself out for not being able to do better.

As you watched, tears pooled into his eyes as well, his emotions rising to the surface. But despite the pain he was feeling, he was determined to make things right. His love for you was stronger than any mistake he could make.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "You deserve so much more than what I've given you. I want to make things right, to show you that I love you, more than anything else."

His words seemed to echo in the room, filling the space between you with all the love and guilt that Simon was feeling in that moment. You watched as he wiped away his own tears, his determination burning bright in his eyes.

For a moment, there was silence, as you both stared at each other, overwhelmed with the weight of everything that had been said and done. But then, slowly, you reached out and took his hand in yours, and you knew that despite everything, you were both willing to fight for your love, to make things work.

You felt a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he truly did mean it this time. Maybe, despite the hurt and disappointment of the past, there was a chance for something better.

"I believe you," you said softly. "But I need you to show me. I need you to put in the effort... to try."

As you finished speaking, Simon could only watch as tears continued to stream down your face. The guilt and remorse weighing heavily on his shoulders was almost too much to bear.

How could he have let you down like this, after all you had done for him? After everything you guys had been through together?

He wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock and make everything right, to show you that you meant more to him than anything else in the world. But he knew that it would take more than just words to convince you that he was telling the truth.

Simon would have to show you with his actions, prove to you that he truly was committed to making this relationship work.

"I promise," He said through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise to do whatever it takes to make this work, to show you that I love you no matter what. I'm sorry, my love, sorry for all the pain I've caused you. Fuckin' hell... I'm going to make things right, I promise you."

As he spoke, his resolve only grew stronger, his determination stronger than ever.

"Don't cry anymore, pretty girl."

He might not deserve your forgiveness, but he was going to do damn everything to earn it. Even if it meant fighting tooth and nail, even if meant facing his greatest fears and demons.

Because in the end, you were all that mattered to him. And Simon would do whatever it took to mend this relationship.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

A/N: now that we've made up, i can now sleep peacefully 🙏🙏 i hope you’ve all been enjoying the second part of this. i have to say though,, your support and enthusiasm has been overwhelming, and it means the world to me to know that you’re all enjoying my work <//3 this has been the heaviest fic ive ever written holy shit. listening to nbhd songs to this, esp this playlist, is such a vibe !! i couldnt stop rereading all this and crying my ass off on repeat 😘😘

special mentions <//3 . @mockerycrow @pandoramyst @monanight @casualunknownrunaway @invaderzim13 @xsoftdead18 @colorfulbanditempathhero-blog @aliilium @rhyanna6012 @ghostlythots @duskwo0d @b1rds3ye [ thank you guys for loving this lil silly fic of mine and for the supports, really, i am like so over the moon that y'all liked it ! thank you so much for your patience and support while waiting for the p2. i'm so grateful that you've been willing to stick with it, and i really appreciate all the comments you've given me along the way. i rlly hope this brings you all the comfort you guys were looking <3 ]

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eraenaa · 4 months

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One More Night (Modern AU)

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: You were quick to leave after a one night stand, leaving Aemond dissatisfied, for he wanted so much more. When he found you again, he was sure to never let you go.

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, Grinding, Squirting, Cum Shot, P in V sex, Overstimulation, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Submissive Reader, Not Proofread

Word Count: 3,278

Another night spent in the bar— it was not as if it was your choice. The other nights, yes, it was you who dragged your friends to your favorite spot, but for this particular night, you had planned to spend it alone in your flat. Yet, here you are once more in your third tight dress of the week and fifth drink of the night. Scanning the crowded room for an escape, suddenly growing claustrophobic even though you were happily squeezed with the other bodies the previous nights.

There was an open area to your right, a balcony overlooking the cityscape, and offered the space the dance floor did not provide. But before you headed to the empty space, you went to the bar to order another drink. Your eyes glossed over the room to look for your friends. But instead of locking with familiar eyes, your gaze was captured by the gaze of the lone eye of icy sapphire. Never had you encountered such a gaze— calculating and serious with just the tiniest hint of mirth. You removed your gaze from the man… unnerved and growing cautious as you took your fresh drink and headed out.

You stood by the glass railings, the serene city skyline before you as the music poundeed behind you. You believed you were alone but when a silky deep voice cuts through the dull music, you were proven wrong. “Do you have a light?” He asked, resisting the urge to smirk as he noticed you were slightly startled. Glossed lips parting, unconsciously making Aemond want you more. You were the first girl who caught his attention in a while. The way you almost reluctantly walked into the room with your friends dragging you along was enough for him to grow curious. God, you were gorgeous in your crimson dress and oversized leather jacket that Aemond prayed was not of your boyfriend’s. His eye quickly trailed to your luscious thighs that temptingly pressed together, then to your legs that were clad in your knee-high boots.

“Sorry, I don’t,” You answered as your eyes locked once more, and you were the first one to break contact again, returning your gaze to the skyline. You thought he had left, but you heard the click of a lighter, and the first smoke of a cigarette was quick to follow. You turned to the man with silver hair and a sapphire eye, his leather eye patch making him fearsome yet utterly attractive. “You have a lighter,” You said as he threaded closer, standing beside you, his other hand holding a cold glass. “I do,” He answered, gazing downward. You knit your brows. “Then why would you…” You trailed, confused.

Aemond shrugged; he had never felt the need to approach someone so openly and first. He usually waited for the others to come to him. But there was something about you that made Aemond feel the need to approach you first. “Needed an excuse to speak with you,” He said, finally letting his smirk slip as he noticed that a blush bloomed on your cheeks, matching the color of your dress. You hummed and tried hard to appear unaffected by his tactics, but it was hard. Never had you been so attracted to someone— a strange no less. Just looking at him made your body turn warm.

Things were quick to escalate. One moment, you and Aemond were engaging in conversation on the balcony of the club, then the next, he led you to the bar for another drink, until finally, you found yourself leaning in to kiss him. A kiss that only left both of you wanting more, and who were you to deny your bodies what they needed?

Aemond was quick to open the door of his flat and pull you in, pushing you against the wall to kiss your lips again. Pinning you up and grounding your hips against each other, finding friction that both of you desperately sought. You were distraught as Aemond placed kisses on your neck… you had never been in this situation before. You never had a one-night stand before. You thought it would not be enjoyable for you— that you could not sleep with a stranger that you met in the bar. But as Aemond cupped your breast and placed his knee in between your legs and met your cunt, you knew that you would have been collecting one-night stands like trophies if all of them were as good as Aemond. And to think, you haven’t had him inside you yet.

“Fuck… look at you, grinding on my thigh, so fucking desperate to be fucked by a stranger?” Aemond hummed with a vicious smirk as he moved his knee upward to create more pressure just to see the look of utter pleasure on your face. “Yes… Oh god,” you muttered, fastening the pace of your hips as you were so near your release. But a whine left your lips as Aemond cruelly removed his knee between your thighs. Backing away slightly, leaving you unsatisfied and wholly wanting for more. “Aemond,” You whined, but he only relished at your complaint—a chuckle leaving his lips before kissing you once again. “You’ll come when I say you come,” Aemond whispered against your lips, his eye growing dark, his hold on your waist growing tight. A whimper left your lips, and Aemond relished the sound of it.

“Do you want to come, hm, baby?” Aemond asked and tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. “Only good girls get to come… will you be a good girl for me?” You nod your head fervently as his hand trailed upward your thigh, teasing you as his finger would lightly graze your cunt. “Words, sweetheart,” Aemond hummed. “Yes,” You quickly said. Aemond raised his brow as his hand trailed higher— making you think that he’d finally settle his touches on the part that needed it the most. “Yes, what?” He asked. “Yes, Aemond,” You answered, wanting to feel pressure and friction on your sex again. “No, try again,” Your lips parted, and brows knitted once more. “Yes, what?” Aemond asked once more.

“Yes…” You trailed as you scanned his eye for an answer. “…daddy?” You guessed and were quick to moan as his hand cupped your cunt that was dripping with your needy essence. “Good girl.” Aemond hummed and let his fingers draw circles on your cloth-covered cunt. You moaned aloud as you found someone who had the same sexual interest as you… someone who had forced your hidden desires out and would present you with your deepest sexual fantasy that you were ashamed of.

Aemond pulled you off the wall and dragged you to his bedroom. Him sitting on the bed, leaving you to stand and pulling you between his parted legs. “You’re my good girl, yes?” Aemond asked, now the one to look up at you. His hands trailed your body and rested at your backside, gripping your flesh firmly. “Yes, Daddy,” You answered, and Aemond hummed at how responsive you were. The others he brought home in the past just didn’t understand what he wanted— what he needed, greatly discouraging him from playing out his desires. But here you were… so obliging and obedient, the perfect match.

“Prove it.” Aemond stated, “Strip,” he added. You licked your lips as hesitancy peaked through— but you were determined to ignore it as you moved to undo your dress, letting it pool on the floor, leaving you in your undergarments. You kept your eyes stead on Aemond as you reached back and unhooked your brasserie, letting it fall and exposing yourself to the man you’d met mere hours before. “Fucking hell,” Aemond muttered under his breath, not able to resist and cup the ampleness of your tits, his thumb teasing the pebbled buds. You bent down to remove your boots next, but Aemond prevented you from doing so. “Keep them on,” he ordered, and you nodded. “Whatever you want, Daddy,” You answered and relished as a groan left his throat. “Fucking perfect,” He muttered as you embodied all he ever wanted.

“You’re being such a good girl… you really want to come, huh, baby?” He hummed as he massaged your tits. “Mhm… yes, Daddy. I want you to make me come so bad,” You moaned as his fingers pinched the sensitive buds in unison. “Then kneel,” You did as told and watched Aemond undo the zipper of his trousers, expectingly waiting on his cock, relishing when it was finally revealed. God… he was beautiful. “Show me how a good girl you are and suck daddy’s dick… make daddy come on that pretty face if you want to come over and over again tonight,” You wasted no time and took his shaft in your hand, placing your tongue flat on its base and slowly licking upward, noting that mere action alone had left Aemond’s breathing staggered and his cock already twitching in your hands.

Aemond let out a low moan as you bobbed your head on his length, the tip of him hitting the back of your throat perfectly, and your soft hand massaged his balls. Aemond could no longer hold it in, pulling out of your mouth and positioning his cock to come all over your face, just as he promised. He breathed heavily as he watched you gratefully grin and use your fingers to gather his seed and bring it to your mouth, licking it clean. “Was I a good girl, Daddy?” You asked innocently, still kneeling before him, eyes wide and imploring him to say yes. “The best fucking girl there is,” he growled, pulling you to straddle his lap and kiss your lips once more.

“So fucking eager,” Aemond said in-between kisses as you his grounded at his soft length that was quick to harden once more by the feeling of your cunt atop it. “I want my reward… please, Daddy, you promised,” You said and moved your hips faster, now utterly desperate for your own release. You squeaked as Aemond stood, tossing you to lay on the bed and placing himself between your leather-clad legs that his hands forced apart. “So, so pretty,” Aemond hummed as you lay completely exposed to him. Your fingers playing with the buds of your tits whilst your cunt begged for his touch.

Without warning, Aemond dipped his head down and met his lips with your cunt. Eagerly lapping at the folds, sucking art the bud, and darting his tongue out to tease your entrance. You bit your lip harshly, not wanting to be loud, guessing it would not be appreciated by his neighbors. Aemond furrowed his brows as he was doing his best work eating your cunt, but all he could get was a whimper and strained moan. Your breathing shallowed as the wrapped arms on your thighs tightened their hold. Aemond looking up at you with glazed eyes. “Do not hold back your moans.” He ordered as he saw you harshly bitting your lip, only making it more plump and tempting to kiss. “Let me hear how good I make you feel,”

Aemond smirked and continued his torment as you were quick to do as you were told, finally spewing your heavenly moans that were music to ears. That made the blood in him somehow stream faster; his heart beat louder, and his cock so much harder than it had ever been. If just hearing your moans could elicit such a reaction from him, Aemond could not wait to feel the whole of you. Have himself buried deep in your sweet cunt and have you scream his name. Aemond saw the telltale sign that you were about to reach your peak as your legs that rested comfortably on his shoulders started to tremble. “Daddy… I’m—I’m,” Words could not be comprehended as you were so close to the peak that you had been craving for the whole night. “Is my girl gonna come?” Aemond cooed as he abruptly pushed a finger in you, making your eyes roll back and your body arch in surprise. “Yes… yes!” You cried as you were on the edge, “Come.” Aemond ordered, watching you squirm on his bed, his fingers being coated with your essence.

But even as you came, Aemond did not his torment; his lips still sucked on your nubbin, and his tongue would vibrate on the sensitive bud, making you cry out. Tears would stream at the side of your face as it was all too much. “Aemond— I— No,” Aemond shook his head disapprovingly, switching his tongue for his other hand to continue to draw circles on your cunt. “Not Aemond, sweetheart,” He taunted as you tried to squirm away. Quickly retrieving his fingers that were inside you, licking them clean first before using them to keep you in place. “Daddy— please, stop! It’s too much!” You cried as you were about to reach uncharted territory— a place Aemond wanted you to reach.

Aemond savored the sound of your cunt reaching another high— spraying liquid all over Aemond’s bed, but he did not at all mind. He looked at you, fisting the sheets, eyes still rolled back. He called upon your name but you did not respond, too lost in the pleasure that you were so desperate for. Already exhausted, Aemond had pushed you over the edge, overstimulating you. It was a miracle you did not black out in pleasure. Aemond moved atop you, kissing your lips that were swollen and red—letting your slick skin tangle each other, brushing away the hairs that clung to your neck.

“Is that what you wanted, my pretty girl?” Aemond hummed, moving his lips to pepper kissed on the upper part of your chest, resisting the urge to suck at your nipples because he knew you needed a moment to recompose yourself. “Yes,” You breathed out after a while, Aemond chuckling at the time it took for his words to register in your pretty little head. “Do you still want more?” Aemond asked, nipping at your neck, leaving a mark that would make you think of him each time you saw it. You swallowed thickly and licked your lips before answering. “Yes, Daddy, I want so much more,” You answered, making Aemond feel he had truly found his match.

Aemond smashed your lips and glided the tip of his cock against your folds, making you moan against his lips. “I want it, Daddy— I want you so bad,” You uttered as you felt a hint of hesitancy in him. Your lips parted as Aemond obliged your wants. God, he was huge. It was a rather good thing that Aemond had prepared you ever so much because if it weren’t for your two orgasms, you doubted that he’d even fit. “So fucking tight— such a good girl taking all of daddy,” Aemond praised, and you could only moan as that made your walls tighten and, in turn, made Aemond moan as well. “You like being praised, huh? Don’t you, my pretty girl?” Aemond bit his lip as you clenched around him once more— if he had less self-control, he could have come already. You nodded your head, “Yes, Daddy, thank you, Daddy,” You answered as Aemond cupped your cheek, finally moving in and out of you.

“My good little girl, so responsive and so grateful,” Aemond grunted. God, he was already close but could not let himself come until he coaxed another one from you. Aemond licked his tongue as his eye was locked in on you, placing his finger flat on your nubbin once more, rubbing it to aid you along to another orgasm. Aemond groaned as he watched your eyes roll back again, your back arching and creating a different sensation for Aemond, who pounded in and out of you. “Oh… daddy— it’s so good, you’re so good!” You cried as you felt the familiar coil in your abdomen. “Is my good girl going to come again? Hm?” Aemond asked and fastened his pace, no longer having restraint. “Yes, Daddy— please, can I come? Please?” You asked permission first. Aemond loudly groaned as he didn’t even have to ask you to do that. God, you were utterly perfect— the personification of all he wanted.

You tiptoed around the room, trying to gather your clothes as Aemond lay sound asleep on his bed. You’ve never had a one-night stand before, but guessing by its title, it meant that one should leave before the following day. Aemond tossed around, and you quickly wore your jacket and completely disregarded your search for your underwear. Clutching your boots to your chest, you sneaked your way out of his bedroom and eventually out of his flat.

Aemond woke a few moments later, his arm reaching for the warm body that clung to him last night. Wanting to feel the softness of the girl he had decided would be more than just a mere one-night stand. Aemond furrowed his brow as the left side of his bed was empty and partly cold. He sat up and called your name, quickly going to his feet and searching for you in his bathroom; it was empty. He walked nakedly to his living room, and no trace of you was to be seen; only now did he realize that you had left without even a goodbye or a note. It was early in the morning, but Aemond’s mood was already at its worst.

A week had passed, and Aemond was growing desperate to find you once more. It was cruel of you to give him the best moments of his life and just abruptly leave. He found himself frequenting the bar you two had met. His eye steady on the door each night, willing it would be you to enter next. It was his fifth night in the bar; hope was wearing thin. He was entertaining the possibility of just picking up a random girl just for the sake of it— knowing he’d imagine that it be you he was fucking instead. He was growing tired of pleasuring himself through the night; he lewdly needed the feel of an actual cunt.

Aemond downed his drink as his eye glanced over a girl who had been staring at him the entire night. He sighed heavily as he knew he had no other choice than to let himself settle for another night of mediocre sex… nothing would compare to the night he had you. But before he could approach the girl, his eye flew to the balcony once more. Aemond’s stomach pitted, and he blinked rapidly as he thought his eye had deceived him, that his desperation for you had led him to hallucinate. Aemond forgot everything around him, threading closer to the space where you and he first met, praying to whatever deity that it was really you who stood by the balcony once more.

Aemond hasn’t called for you yet, but you have already turned. The same eyes he had been longing to look into, the same lips he had been fantasizing all week now before him. You smile sheepishly at him, not expecting to see him once more, “Hi… daddy,” You whispered lowly at Aemond, who was still enveloped with shock. When he made no answer, you stepped forward with a furrowed brow; it was then Aemond regained himself, pulling you close to him and kissing your lips like a man starved. Arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

He found his perfect match again and swore to himself that he’d never let you go.

#house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond modern au #one night stand

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dolldefiler · 4 months

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[I posted this on Reddit initially. I figured Tumblr would enjoy it as well.]

“Dr Raj will see you now.”

The smooth, pleasant voice of the receptionist put a stop to Lucy’s descent into that realm of dark thoughts. She looked up to see her warm, polite smile. Her fake smile. Doubtless, this innocent-looking secretary knew exactly what Dr Raj was making her feel. And yet she did nothing to stop it.

“Thank you,” Lucy said, slowly getting up, shuffling towards the office, her breath losing its evenness with each small step. By the time she’d made her way to the door, her breath was ragged in anticipation of what lay beyond. Turning her head back, she saw the receptionist’s face plastered with the same polite, unfeeling smile back at her. She entered the office.

The office was small. Very small. A desk, a chair, and a sofa large enough to fit two people, barely. There were no windows here, the only light being a single unshaded bulb casting a flickering warmth into the room. Neither walls nor the desk were particularly decorated, dull and neutral. The room was hot, almost like a sauna, and in the background, a low buzzing sound could be heard. This was closer to a closet than a room. Moreso a torture chamber than a therapist’s office.

And sat upon that chair was the man she’d been dreading to meet. Dr Raj. He was ageless and plain-faced, not a person that would be easily noticed. He seemed unconcerned by the heat and claustrophobic room, beckoning her to sit down on the sofa.

She sunk into the sofa, her heart thumping.

“Hello, Lucy, how have you been?” Dr Raj smiled broadly, as if last week had been a dream. A nightmare. He always did this. He’d start with a flawless sense of professionalism and charisma that’d ease you in, and tempt you into lowering your guard. And then when the moment came, he’d turn on you. Tear at those insecurities you’d exposed to him. She endured the small talk, drawing out each answer, knowing how futile it all was. The moment came.

“Now, shall we get started?” Dr Raj asked, his smile never faltering. Sensing her hesitation, he squinted. “What’s wrong, Lucy?”

Lucy panicked. All thoughts of pushing back, resisting, fleeing her. “W-well, it’s just that… Do we have to do it like this? Telling you every detail of… everything.” Even she could tell how much her voice trembled. She couldn’t help it. Fear and anxiety gnawed at her.

Dr Raj peered at her over the rim of his glasses. Perhaps it was her imagination but a streak of annoyance flashed across his face. And then his face relaxed into one a little more comforting. Relaxing. Kind. Gentle. “Lucy, we’ve spoken about this, haven’t we? You need to get this out of your system. You need to be brave again, for me.”

Lucy nodded, knowing if she spoke, they’d both know how terrified she was. Dr Raj smiled his pleasant smile at her. “Now I believe you were going to tell me what happened after your evening at the nightclub.”

Lucy’s gut sank as she recalled that dreadful night. The heat of the room felt heavy on her as her breath faltered slightly. Dr Raj sat patiently, his smile unceasing. “Right… I left the club at around midnight. My house is about fifteen minutes away, so I thought it would be fine. There’s this dark alleyway near the club which cuts off about five minutes, so I thought I’d be fine taking that but-... But…”

The humiliation rushed back to her. The memory of it all. The masked man appearing from the shadows pinning her down and clamping a sweaty hand over her mouth. The nasty words that had been whispered furiously into her ears, the-.

She sensed the therapist get out of his chair and sit next to her. There wasn’t nearly enough room for the both of them, so their legs were pressed against each other’s. She felt a hand touch her shoulder, patting her worries away. She hated it.

“There, there, Lucy. What happened next?” Dr Raj’s voice cut off her thoughts. His voice was smooth and even, contrasting the low, constant buzz of the heater or generator or whatever it was. Lucy collected herself, pausing for a minute to regain her voice.

“But then a man appeared. I thought he’d just walk past me. He didn’t. I didn’t realise what was happening until there was a hand on my throat and another on my mouth. I couldn’t even scream.” Lucy could feel his hand patting away at her shoulder, almost rhythmically.

Her fists were balled up, her body tense. That night was the worst she’d felt in her entire life. The way some man had stolen her dignity from her. Ripped it away from her, as if she truly deserved no happiness to begin with. She’d never wish it upon her worst enemy… So then why was she so aware of Dr Raj right now? Every pat gave her a jolt of some unfamiliar, tingling energy… And she didn’t know what to do with that.

“He must have noticed how pretty you are. What were you wearing?”

He’d called her pretty… She felt so dirty, so alone, so utterly stained, yet here a man was calling her pretty! Some small part of her knew that he was a pig underneath that insincere smile. A monster that thrived off her suffering. But she chose to ignore it. Because it felt better this way. “I was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt,” she mumbled.

“You were wearing such provocative clothes. I know this might upset you, but did you consider you dressed like that to attract a man’s attention?”

Lucy could hear her heart beat louder and faster. Was this her fault? If she’d worn something less revealing, would she have been left unscathed? She didn’t want to be raped. Nobody did. Right?

“But perhaps it wasn’t the way you dressed. Could you show me how short they were?”

Lucy looked at him, confused. How was she to show him how short they were? And then she felt it. She looked down and saw his hand press against her thighs. She froze, unable to breathe for a moment. She could feel her eyes water up, as she looked down at his warm hand. His fingers were wrapped tightly around her thighs, his thumb almost caressing her. In the background she could hear him coaxing her, telling her to breathe.

When she finally managed to draw in a jagged breath, he looked at her, his warm smile ignoring the tears in her eyes, the heat of the room, and the constant, fucking buzzing. The room was far too small. There was hardly any room for a single person in this closet, let alone two. And yet she didn’t take his hand off her. She didn’t even resist it.

“Was it shorter than this?” Dr Raj asked. Lucy nodded her head, her eyes closed to hold back the tears. Why was it always her? Could they sense how weak she was? How frail and vulnerable she was? How easy to manipulate she was? She felt his hand draw further up her thigh, the tips of his fingers getting precariously closer to her groin. To her hot, wet pussy.

“About here?”

Lucy nodded. The patting stopped. She felt his arm wrap itself around her waist, his wandering hand making its way to her midriff, just underneath her chest. She shuddered. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stop this. Her body was putty in his hands, soft and relaxed on the comfortable sofa. She hated this so much. She hated Dr Raj, her rapist, and especially herself, she could almost throw up. So why was her needy cunt so fucking wet?

He knew exactly what he was doing when he asked her the same question about her crop top, his hand eventually grazing her boobs. There she was, sat in some stranger’s office with his hands all over her. She’d let this happen again. She truly was pathetic. Perhaps, this was always meant to be.

Dr Raj’s voice came in whispers, soft and teasing. “And then what happened? Did he touch you? Drive his penis into your vagina?”

Lucy couldn’t suppress the tears any longer. She nodded. “He called me an attention-seeking whore. A dumb rapeslut that was going to get what she deserved. I felt a hand under my top, fondling my chest… My tits… And then something pressed against my pussy.”

Before she knew it, she was inching her way into his hands, her desperate cunt craving for the touch of a man that wasn’t disgusted with her. It was hard to care about her dignity anymore. Hadn’t it been raped away that night anyway?

“Oh? Did he touch you like this?” His hand rose from her midriff, and with practised ease, slipped under her top, sliding directly onto her tits. “You’ve not worn a bra. Perhaps you really are an attention-seeking cockslut.”

Lucy’s body wracked with silent, heavy sobs, as she looked down at his groping, lecherous hand under her top, violating her as she’d been violated that night. His hand was hot on her skin. Her head spun, light-hearted from his touch. She looked up at him. His kind smile had never left his face. This was the face of the devil himself. She nodded her head.

“He… Didn’t last long. I can’t remember it. Not really. Just a few thrusts… and it was over.”

But it was enough to make her question her own humanity. She felt his hand slide up her thigh and slip under her jeans. She couldn’t hold back her moan as his fingers met her aching cunt. A hole, she now knew, was made for dick. She heard his voice again.

“But that’s all that mattered, isn’t it? That he came in the end. It doesn’t matter how short it was. All that mattered is that he was satisfied and drained.”

She sobbed and nodded. Again. She couldn’t deny this man. Even if she hated him.

“Look at my lap, Lucy.”

His throbbing tent was hard to miss.

“Take it out.”

She didn’t struggle or argue or resist. This is the best she could hope for. At least he was telling her what he wanted her to do. Her trembling hand reached his zipper, slowly pulling it down before fishing his thick, brown cock out. Like his hands, it felt so warm, so alive in her hand. She hated it. She wanted to yank it off and eat it. She wanted this to end.

“Jerk it, you little rapetoy. We both know you need this.”

She wanted this to end. But she stroked his dick anyway. Some twisted satisfaction rose within her as he groped and molested her body. As she let her hand slide up and down his erect cock.

“Faster, you whore. You should always strive to help a man cum. Grip my cock and fucking jerk me off like the nasty slut I know you really are.” She could no longer cry. Perhaps she’d run out of tears. Perhaps she didn’t care. Perhaps she couldn’t care anymore. They sat there for a few minutes, silently fingering and stroking each other. Acting as lovers, when in reality there was only a monster and its prey.

She could hardly feel his fingers, the blood rushing from her head. She could only focus on his twitching cock. The warmth between her fingers. Her painfully hot body. And then with a slight groan, thick, warm cum spilled out from his cock, coating her fingers. She sat there, his dick in his hands still. Her eyes were probably vacant. Lucy was no longer there, not really. Only the empty shell of a human being remained. Only a piece of meat made for rape and abuse remained.

She felt him push her hand to her mouth, telling her to clean it up. She complied. He tasted salty. Disgusting. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered.

“You can pay at the reception. I’ll see you next week.”

Dr Raj had seen her.

And he’d destroyed her without losing that sickly smile.

#cnc k!nk #free use slvt #degradation k1nk #r@pe fantasy #r@pe k!nk #r@pe kink #degrading k1nk #corruption kink #rough cnc #rough kink #rapekink #rapetoy #dark kinks #cnc free use

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melzula · 3 months

Text

Smoke and Shadow

part two

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: final part is here! hope you guys enjoy and thank you for being patient as always

summary: the group is one step closer to finding the missing children and Azula, but that doesn’t mean all of their problems will be solved

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

“We decided to do some investigating after Zuko kicked Aang out of the throne room,” Suki explains to you as your trio runs after the Avatar and Fire Lord. “We wanted to see if there were any clues left behind from Kiyi’s kidnapping or Azula’s Kemurikage attack on the palace last night.”

“And even though we couldn’t find anything, I realized there was something fishy about the way she was able to escape so quickly!” Ty Lee adds with a keen smile. “When we used to play hide-and-seek as kids, she’d always manage to win by hiding in this secret passage way tucked into the palace walls. It must be how the Kemurikage were able to escape so quickly.”

“Good thinking, Ty Lee. Although, I still can’t believe she kidnapped her own sister,” you note with a disgruntled shake of your head. “That’s low even for her.”

“This is Azula we’re talking about,” Suki reminds you, and that in itself is enough of an explanation for her behavior.

You finally skid to a stop after reaching the palace rooftops where Aang and Zuko land. The Avatar carelessly drops your boyfriend on the tile, and you wince on his behalf before offering Zuko your hand to help him back up onto his feet.

“Did you have fun?” You ask with a teasing smile only for the Fire Lord to scowl.

“Don’t ever do that again!” He scolds Aang whilst dusting off his robes.

“Okay, okay, but look!” the boy insists before pressing down on a loose brick that opens up a hidden doorway.

“A secret passageway! So you think this is how Azula and the other Kemurikage escape? How did you figure this out?”

“They searched for clues after you kicked them out of the throne room,” you tell him with a pointed look that has him shrinking guiltily under your gaze. “I think you owe Aang an apology.”

“You’re right,” he murmurs sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I should have been more open to your ideas.”

“Apology accepted!” Aang chirps happily. “Now what’s our next move?”

“Well… Kiyi could be on the other side.”

“Tom-Tom, too. I’m coming along,” Mai interjects firmly, seemingly forgetting Kei Lo’s presence until he corrects her statement with a “We’re coming along.”

Zuko instructs Suki and Ty Lee to stay back and guard the palace, so you bid your friends goodbye before beginning your descent into the narrow passageway. The hallway is cold and claustrophobic, but Aang and Zuko lead the way with their fire bending, cautioning you to watch your step behind them.

You’re quiet for the most part, mulling over your thoughts and insecurities now that you’re given a moment’s silence to think. You’re still feeling a bit insecure about walking in on him with Mai and about his animosity towards Kei Lo, but you haven’t had the chance to talk to him yet. The long distance has been hard on your relationship, and sometimes it’s hard to keep consistent communication when both of you have duties to tend to and entire nations to run, but you never thought it would be a problem. Now, you’re not so sure.

You recall what Azula had told you during your time in the Forgetful Valley, how you and Zuko were an “unnatural” pair that would never work. You hate to admit it or even think it, but what if she’s right? What if you’re just kidding yourself? Maybe Mai really has been the right girl for him all along. After all, she is Fire Nation, and she certainly is more qualified to be dating the Fire Lord than you are. You wish Suki were here to talk to, surely she’d know just what to say and could stop you from spiraling like you are now, but without her it seems it’s just you and your thoughts for now.

“Hey, I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier,” a voice says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I’m Kei Lo, Mai’s boyfriend.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, everything’s just been so chaotic. I’m y/n, Zuko’s girlfriend.”

“That’s right, Mai told me. Say, aren’t you a Chief? Should I be calling you Chief y/n instead?”

“Just y/n is perfectly fine,” you correct him with an awkward laugh. Unbeknownst to you, Zuko is listening in on every word. He doesn’t trust Kei Lo, not one bit, and he doesn’t want him roping you into any trouble. He doesn’t care if he really isn’t in cahoots with the Safe Nation Society, if Kei Lo so much as looks at you in a way Zuko doesn’t like he’ll be tossed into a cell immediately.

“So how’s a Chief of a water tribe end up dating the Fire Lord?” He asks with a laugh.

“It’s a very long story.”

“Please spare me the details,” Mai says with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, it may not be the best time for that story,” you note with an apprehensive smile.

“You’re probably right. Still, it’s a pretty awkward situation we’ve all found ourselves in.”

“You can say that again.”

After some time group is finally able to reach the end of the passageway, and the only thing standing in your way from the other side is a solid wooden door.

“This must be it,” Zuko announces hopefully. “Behind this door could be Kiyi and Tom-Tom.”

“And Azula,” Aang adds apprehensively before helping the Fire Lord push the heavy wood open. The creak of the old hinges is deafening, echoing in the silent hallway, and you watch with bated breath as the light from the other side slowly begins to seep in. Carefully, you follow the two out the door only to be met with a disappointing site.

There are no missing children and there is no Azula. Instead, you’re faced with a gloomy and desolate graveyard.

“What is this place?” You murmur in awe, your eyes scanning across the expanse of withered headstones. You’ve never seen anything like it.

“I’ve been here before,” Zuko notes thoughtfully, “this is the royal family graveyard.”

“I thought that’s what the Dragonstone catacombs were for,” Aang questions with furrowed brows.

“No, the catacombs are only for Fire Lords. This place is for everyone else. It’s called the Garden of Tranquil Souls.”

“Really? Well, I hate to break it to you, Zuko, but…” the Avatar begins uneasily, and you follow his shifting gaze towards the clouds of smoke that begin to surround the graveyard. Taking a step back, you reach to unclip your water pouch as the dark figures begin to close in on your group. “The souls here don’t seem all that tranquil!”

The group of Kemurikage don’t hesitate to attack, and immediately your group is split apart as you all begin to defend yourselves against their assault. Blasts of fire are shot your way left and right, but you’re able to deflect it every time with your water bending. You manage to take down two of the spirits by encasing them up to their necks in ice, but your progress only seems to make a dent in their ambush. Zuko and Aang are still corned back to back, and Azula has managed to single out Mai and Kei Lo. She holds the boy by the collar of his shirt, eyes full of malice and hand ready to strike him with her blue flames despite Mai’s pleas for her to leave her boyfriend alone.

Before she can harm him, you send a blast of water towards her with an effortful grunt that shoots her across the graveyard and into one of the pillars. The impact is forceful enough to put a crack in the tombstone and disorient Azula momentarily to allow Kei Lo and Mai the chance to escape.

“Are you alright?” You ask him after rushing towards the couple. Mai helps him to his feet before looking to you, her eyes full of gratitude and sincerity.

“Thank you,” she says earnestly, and you give her an appreciative nod in return.

Rising from the ground with a grunt of pain, Azula is filled with rage at your assault on her. How dare you think you can beat her at her own game?

“Helping out your competition? That’s pathetic even for you, dearest,” she insults, irises aflame with fury. “Perhaps you and Zuko are more compatible than I thought.”

“What’s pathetic is the fact that you’re still obsessed with becoming Fire Lord,” you spit back, water cloaking your arms to form tentacle-like limbs for attack.

“Oh, I’m much past that now. I have a new mission,” she notes airily with a passive wave of her hand. Her eyes harden suddenly then and electricity begins to spread across her fingertips. “One that simply won’t work with you in the picture.”

Before she can raise her hands to strike you with her lightening blast, Zuko is quick to send a hail of flames her way to distract her. “Leave her out of this! It’s me you want!”

“Oh, Zuzu, always so dramatic,” she mocks before creating a cloud of smoke to cover her as she runs away.

“You have to go after her!” You exclaim urgently. “I’ll stay back and help Aang handle the rest of the Kemurikage.”

After ensuring you’ll be fine without him, Zuko gives you one final nod before chasing after his sister. You, on the other hand, rush back towards Aang to see if he needs any help. However, it seems he’s been able to manage the assailants just fine on his own.

“Princess! Where’d everybody go?” He asks, perplexed at the sudden disappearance of your group.

“Zuko went after Azula. I’m not sure where Mai and Kei Lo are,” you note as you scan the garden for any sign of them. “What do we do now? We still haven’t found the missing children.”

As if on cue, a shrill voice coming from the passageway calls out for help. You exchange an alarmed glance with Aang before immediately sprinting back into the doorway. A breath of relief leaves you at the sight of Mai’s father with the children in tow, but your ease is short lived at the sight of the two Kemurikage that hold them captive.

“Look!” One of the kids exclaims. “It’s the Avatar and Chief y/n!”

“Hi kids, we’ve been looking all over for you!” Aang says with an overjoyed wave.

“Are you guys alright?!” You call out protectively. “Is anyone hurt?”

“We’re great!” Kiyi calls back prompting you to let out a relieved laugh. You’re so happy to see her and see that she’s okay, but your joyous reunion is quickly cut short by the two spirits who begin to approach the two of you with whips of fire.

“Hang on, kids!” You tell them before beginning to take on the Kemurikage. There’s two of them, so you and Aang each take on one. They’re powerful fighters, but the safety of the children is on the line, so you use all of your might to fight them off as best as you can.

You counter their whip with one of your own, slicing through their weapon each time before it can strike you. While one of your hands controls the water whip, the other sends constant shards of ice hurtling toward the cloaked woman. You can tell she’s beginning to tire, your attacks too much for her to keep up with, but you’re too focused to notice the second figure approaching closely behind you. The Kemurikage’s whip is raised to strike you in the back, but their attack is halted by the blade that slices through the air and pins their hand against the wall.

“What-!” You exhale in surprise, turning just in time to see Mai swoop in and finish the job. The last two spirits have been apprehended, and you’ve been spared a wound that surely could have been fatal.

“Someone had to watch your back,” Mai explains with a faint smile. “You had ours.”

“Thank you,” you utter with a breathless grin. It feels nice to not hate each other for once, and you actually seem to work quite well together.

“Y/n! Y/n!” A voice calls, stealing your attention away from the girl and back to the children. Kiyi sprints towards you with a gleeful smile, and you’re quick to scoop her up into your arms and give her the tightest hug. “You came back!”

“I promised, didn’t I?” You say with a playful smile, carefully pushing back the hair from her face. “I’m so relieved to see you’re okay, and I know Zuko will be too.”

“Guess what? I’m a fire bender now!” She boasts proudly. “I burned a hole through the door so we could escape!”

“That’s incredible!” You praise with a laugh. “Wait until your brother hears this.”

Across the way, Mai cradles her little brother in her arms and watches you speak animatedly with Zuko’s sister. Your interest in Kiyi’s story is completely genuine, and she can see just how much the girl values your opinion. It’s so different from the way Azula used to talk about you, speaking poorly of your character and diminishing you to nothing but a weak Princess. Maybe Mai had judged you too harshly. After all, she might not have been able to get her brother back without your help.

“Thank you again for your help,” she tells you after setting Tom-Tom down to allow him to bid his goodbyes to his new friends. “I was wrong about you, and I shouldn’t have let my resentment cloud my judgement the way I did. I guess I really don’t hate you as much as I thought I did.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” you express with a careful smile. Perhaps things will always be awkward between the two of you, but this is at least a good start.

After making sure all of the children are accounted for, your group exits the passageway just as Zuko emerges from one of the mausoleums. Kiyi is quick to sprint towards her brother, and you watch on with a smile at the way his eyes seem to light up while hugging her close.

“Kiyi! I can’t tell you how worried I was about you.”

“I wasn’t worried at all!” She notes with a grateful smile. “You should’ve seen it, Zuzu! Y/n helped the Avatar take those nasty ladies down!”

“She did, did she?” He asks playfully, glancing over to you with a grateful smile. You simply give him a sheepish shrug in return. “I’ll have to be sure to give her my thanks.”

“And Azula?” You ask him, but his solemn gaze is enough of an answer. “She said she had a new mission, did she tell you what it was?”

“She wasn’t interested in becoming Fire Lord, she was interested in turning me into the type of Fire Lord she would be. The type that rules with fear, ruthlessness. Just like my father. Azula says I can’t escape who I am, and it will only be a matter of time before I’m just like her.”

“You don’t believe that, do you? You’re nothing like Azula,” you say earnestly. “You never will be.”

“I know,” Zuko murmurs softly, but you can see the slightest bit of doubt in his eyes and it saddens to you to know he doesn’t fully believe it to be true. “But either way she escaped. I don’t know where she is or when she’ll return.”

“We’ll be there to help you if she does come back, buddy,” Aang consoles with a comforting hand on the Fire Lord’s shoulder. “For now, let’s just focus on returning these kids back to their families.”

“Good point, Aang. Now,” you say, looking to the children who stare up at you with tired eyes that immediately brighten when you ask, “who’s ready to go home?”

~~~

Peace has been restored in the Fire Nation; the children have been returned safely to their parents, and Zuko has earned the forgiveness of his people for his mishandling of the situation. Everything is almost perfect.

You lean against the balcony of your room for the night and stare up contemplatively at the moon. Yue shines beautifully as always, and you find comfort in her light as you battle against the darkness clouding your thoughts. Your doubts about your relationship still rage on, and you haven’t been able to fight them off no matter how hard you try. You haven’t mentioned anything to Zuko, not wanting to distract him from his duty to his people, but the suffering in silence act you’ve been pulling all day hasn’t been helping your state of mind. Suki had urged you to talk to him, stating you had nothing to worry about because she’s seen firsthand how much he misses you when you’re away, but you were too anxious to follow through. What if you won’t like what you hear when you finally speak to Zuko?

You’re too engrossed in your thoughts to hear your door open or the quiet footsteps that head towards you, and it isn’t until he’s right beside you that you finally feel the familiar warmth that constantly emanates from his body. You don’t have to look to know that it’s Zuko.

“Suki said I should come to talk to you,” he says softly, golden eyes looking to you inquisitively. “Is everything alright?”

“I… I’m not sure,” you admit quietly, nervously fidgeting with your fingers and refusing to meet his gaze.

“What is it?”

His hand sneaks its way in between your own to halt your fidgeting and reassure that he’s right there with you and ready to listen to whatever it is you have to say. Sighing, you finally look to him with uncertainty swimming in your eyes.

“Do you have feelings for Mai?”

He’s stunned to stay the least, eyes widening slightly in surprise at your question. It’s certainly the last thing he expected you to ask him.

“Is this what you were trying to talk to me about earlier?” He presses gently, frowning at the way you slowly nod your head. “I see…”

“Just be honest with me, Zuko,” you plead desperately. “We promised we’d never keep secret from each other anymore, so if there’s something to tell then tell me. I can handle it.”

“I can’t stand here and tell you that it didn’t look bad when you walked in on Mai and I,” Zuko admits with a sigh. “But I can tell you that nothing was going on.”

“I heard you say you care about her.”

“It was out of context. I was trying to make things right for the sake of finding the children- she was obviously still upset over what went down between us, and I was trying to keep the peace so that we could work together to find our siblings. I’ve known her since we were kids, and if it weren’t for her I never would have been able to escape Boiling Rock and come back to you. So in a way I guess I do care for her, but it’s nothing compared to how much I care for you.”

“What about your animosity towards Kei Lo? You seemed… jealous of him.”

“I wasn’t jealous, I just didn’t trust him. I still don’t,” Zuko says adamantly. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to release him because I didn’t want him to try and pull anything. I didn’t want Mai getting hurt, and I especially didn’t want him putting you in any danger.”

“So… so you don’t have feelings for her?” You ask meekly, the slightest bit of doubt still present in your voice.

“I’ve never had feelings for her,” Zuko says earnestly before gently taking your hands in his own. “You’re the only girl for me, y/n. I was stupid enough to let you go once, but I’m never making that mistake again.”

You can’t help but smile at his admission, tears beginning to well in your eyes as you throw your arms around him in a tight embrace that he immediately returns. It feels like a weight has finally been lifted off your shoulders, and all the worry and self doubt you had is finally beginning to melt away.

“I never want you to feel doubtful or insecure about our relationship ever again. I’m going to do everything in my power to do better,” he professes earnestly. “I love you more than you know, and you don’t ever have to worry about someone coming between us again.”

“I love you, Zuko.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, and with the moonlight shining down upon you both, everything is almost perfect.

For neither of you notice the pair of golden eyes that stare down at you from the rooftops with disdain and disgust before disappearing into the shadows.

“Pathetic.”

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

#fire lilies #atla #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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bkgml · 5 months

Note

hii! i have a hurt/comfort idea with pro hero bakugo where basically his pro hero wife (or gf) comes home looking like shit after getting called to save civilians from a flood caused by a villian (but her quirk doesn't have to do with water) since the other aquatic heroes weren't available n basically shes upset with herself since she wasnt able to save everyone :( anddd bkg comforts her and cleans up her wounds

ive had this idea for a long time and i thought youd execute it perfectly 💙💙

“i made dinner! you better like it because i lowered the spice level for you!” katsuki yells from his spot in the kitchen.

you shut the door lightly. there’s a hollow expression on your face, dried tear streaks covering your skin.

you can’t find the strength to reply to him.

“hey, did you go deaf on patrol??” he calls, voice getting closer as he rounds the corner.

he stills at your sullen face, his fingers twitching.

“baby? what’s wrong, what happened?” he says in a whisper, trailing over to you.

your empty gaze stays glued to the wooden floors of your shared home, unable to look at him.

he immediately goes into protection mode.

“can i touch you?” he whispers softly.

you offer a small nod, letting him know you won’t flinch or get uncomfortable.

he brushes his hand across your cheek before moving down to grab you from under the armpits.

he pulls you to him and you gently wrap your limbs around him, a small sniffle escaping you.

“shhh i know.” katsuki comforts you, starting to walk to the couch with you still tight in his hold.

he sits you on the couch and gets on his knees in front of you, grabbing your foot to unlace your boots.

when he’s done he stands and places your boots in the front hall before returning in front of you.

he grabs your hands while still just kneeling there for you.

“ready to talk?” he asks slowly.

your brows furrow and you shake your head.

“okay, let’s go shower.” he says before lifting you again. he’s never pushed you to talk in situations like these and you’ll have to remember to thank him for that later.

the walk to the bathroom is silent. he strokes your soaked hair and rubs your back over your equally drenched hero suit.

he wants to ask what happened, wants to tell you he’ll be able to help you once he knows what it is.

he sits you down on the toilet seat before grabbing the first aid kit and resumes his spot in front of you.

“you need to take your suit off baby.” he says gently.

you look down at your suit covered in blood and soaked with water and tears.

sniffling, you grab the zipper on the front of your suit. you tug on it gently and it won’t budge. tug on it a little harder, frustrated tears burning in your eyes. you rip the zipper as hard as you can and start to tug on the fabric of your suit. you feel constricted and claustrophobic and hurried sobs rip from your throat.

“hey. hey. stop. i’ve got you. katsuki’s here.” he mumbles grabbing your wrists and peeling your hands off your body.

“i can’t- it won’t come off! i can’t do this.” you whimper, squirming in his hold.

he shushes you gently, caressing your face to wipe the tears.

“i got it, okay?” he assures you, reaching for the zipper and pulling the trapped fabric that stopped the mechanism from working before freeing you from the suit.

you continue to sob as he takes your suit off and once you’re free there��s a myriad of kisses pressed into the skin of your face and hands.

he waits with you. doesn’t rush you by immediately cleaning your wounds, he just waits. letting you cry while he rubs your thighs to keep you warm and kisses your face.

once the tears slow he presses a last kiss to your forehead before pulling back to his spot on the floor.

“can i clean you up now?” he asks softly.

you sniffle, wiping your hands down your face and nodding.

“okay.” he says sweetly, opening the first aid kit while assessing your wounds.

the alcohol he uses to disinfect your cuts stings, but every wince you make disgusts you compared to what the victims of the flood endured.

he finishes disinfecting your wounds and makes a note to himself that there were only small cuts and bruises, they should all heal quickly.

“okay, we gotta shower now baby.” he says, grabbing your face in both hands to make you look at him.

“kay.” you nod and stand on shaky legs to remove the last of your clothes.

katsuki does the same after turning the water on, the pitter patter of the water hitting the tiled floor mimics the white noise in your head.

you feel katsuki wrap his hand around yours, pulling you into the warm shower.

you sigh deeply at the feeling of the water against your skin.

katsuki starts to clean you up, top to bottom. shampooing your hair before grabbing a loofa and dragging it down your arms and stomach, careful not to irritate any of your cuts, then gets back on his knees to scrub your legs.

a whimper makes break his focus. looking up at you, he watches as you break out into wailing sobs, echoing off the walls of the shower.

“i know. just let it out.” he says, continuing to clean you off.

when the tears don’t stop he puts the loofa down and look up at you.

he’s never seen you cry like this before.

standing from his spot on the ground, he drags his hands up your body, caressing you with care.

“it’s over now. you’re safe.” he whispers, arms wrapping around your head to pull you close.

“they’re not safe.” you mumble uncomfortably.

he looks down at you, trying to be eye level.

“who’s not?” he questions.

“i couldn’t save them. i was drowning. the villain covered the city in water and-” a choked sound rips from your throat.

“windows on the apartment shattered and all the bodies… they all got swept into the water.”

katsuki’s eyes widen, he didn’t know what to expect but it definitely wasn’t this.

“it’s not your fault baby, you did everything you could.” he soothes, kissing your face in a desperate need to convince you.

your eyes meet his for the first time tonight, you look broken. it’s like the light from your eyes has been drained.

“i know it’s my fault katsuki.”

your words suffocate him, he doesn’t understand how to help you and it’s killing him inside.

“and they know it’s my fault too.”

your eyes bore into his skull and he tightens his grip on you.

“what? what do you mean, what happened?” he’s desperate. desperate for answers. desperate because he couldn’t help you. desperate to get his girlfriend back.

“the woman’s husband. the boys mother. the little girl whose mother died because of me!” you’re desperate too. you don’t deserve to be held and comforted after what you did.

you struggle in katsuki’s grip but he doesn’t let you go.

“you didn’t do anything wrong. this wasn’t your fault, and you did everything you could. this isn’t a villain you should’ve been sent to deal with, especially on your own. you can’t punish yourself for things that were out of your hands. you stopped the villain, okay?” katsuki says firmly, voice not wavering once.

you stop struggling, knees going weak in his hold. he picks you up and lets you koala around him, the vibrations from your whimpers and sobs echoing off his skin.

“it wasn’t your fault.” he whispers into your ear.

he shuts off the water, taking you outside and wrapping a towel around you.

you’re shivering. partly from the cold and partly from guilt and sorrow.

but katsuki’s there. to hold you up, to keep you from falling apart.

“i’m here.” he whispers as he lays you down in bed, not caring about your wet hair and choosing to forgo getting you both dressed.

he climbs in next to you, pulls the covers over your cold body and wraps his arm around your waist, the other coming to play with your hair in a final attempt to soothe you.

“i love you. more than anything, okay?” you nod, silent tears streaming down your face.

“i’m so proud of you.” you sniffle, inching closer to him to tuck your face in his warm chest.

you both stay like that, his fingers running through your hair and your steady puffs of breath hitting his chest.

“goodnight angel.”

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