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springtyme · 6 months

Note

hii!! i saw ur inbox open and was wondering if i could request this; so, imagine dad!simon (or konig idm!!) having his son / daughter see his face for the first time since they were born and theyre just kinda sitting there like :000?? hes so pretty?? while yn is just screaming in the back?? <33 have a great day n thnaks for reading x

𝐔𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡

Thank you for the request, I had such a good time writing this! I love writing dad!Simon so much! ♡ but also, ngl, the image of this big bloke wearing a mask in front of his baby seems borderline comical to me.

Simon Riley x afab!reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: Your daughter finally sees her father's face for the first time.

word count: 2.2k

warning/tag: Mostly just dad!Simon fluff with a little hint of angst. No gendering terms are directly used for the reader, but they are pretty fem coded. It's mentioned that they were pregnant. No use of y/n.

As the soft morning light filters through the curtains of your bedroom, you slowly begin stretching your limbs and blinking away the remnants of sleep. As you slowly settle into wakefulness, you hear the screeching sound of the baby monitor on your nightstand coming to life and you feel how your heart flutters happily in your chest as a familiar sound comes through. The sweet sound of your daughter’s happy coos, accompanied by Simon’s deep, gentle voice, fill the room with sweetness.

“Morning, sweet pea,” Simon’s voice crackles through the monitor followed by the sound of your baby happily gurgling at her father and then exclaiming a little more whiny sound. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re hungry, but we have to get you changed before we can make breakfast, lovie.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you lie there, basking in the warmth and comfort of your bed. The love and joy that echo through the monitor remind you of just how much love fills your home. It’s moments like these that make your heart swell with an indescribable sense of happiness.

Your mind wanders, and you find yourself reminiscing about the journey that brought you here.

From the moment you and Simon first met, there was an undeniable connection, a spark that ignited and grew into a love that was both fierce and tender. However, it hadn’t been that easy to convince him that he in fact was deserving of such love. He had been scared that he would mess it up, mess you up, convinced himself that he wasn’t able to make anyone happy and that he was broken beyond repair. But you had been rather insisting, and he had finally let his walls crumble and let you into his heart.

And as you had expected, all his worries had been unfounded. He is the best, most loving partner you could ever have dreamt of.

The love you share with him is a love that feels like home.

And then, the arrival of your daughter added a new dimension to your love story. From the first time you had held her tiny hand, you knew that your family was complete. Watching Simon transform into the most loving and doting father has only deepened your admiration and affection for him.

And as you lie here, reminiscing on your life, you can’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the love that surrounds you.

With a content sigh, you finally pull yourself out of bed, ready to start the weekend with your little family.

As you make your way down the stairs you can hear the sound of your daughter’s laughter from the kitchen, filling your heart with warmth and you can’t help but smile and make your way towards the source of the joyful commotion. As you enter the room, the morning sun gently illuminates the kitchen, casting a soft glow over the room, and you are greeted by a heartwarming sight. Simon is standing at the stove, stirring a pot of millet porridge, your daughter’s favourite, while she is sitting in her highchair, which has been moved away from the kitchen table and closer to the counter, so she can see what Simon is doing, clapping her hands in delight.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, mingling with the comforting scent of the porridge. You can’t help but feel a surge of immense love and gratitude for the man who stands before you, effortlessly balancing the roles of partner and father.

Simon turns towards you. “Good morning, love,” he greets you, his eyes twinkling with warmth, the bottom half of his face covered by a black mask. He had started to wear it around the house again after your daughter had been born.

“Good morning,” you reply, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and adoration. “I see you two are having quite the breakfast party.”

Simon laughs softly and nods. “We thought we’d surprise you with breakfast in bed, but it seems that someone couldn’t wait,” he says, glancing at your daughter, who just giggles in response.

You walk over to them, planting a soft kiss on Simon’s masked cheek before planting another on your daughter’s, much chubbier, one. “Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed. This is the best way to wake up,” you say, gazing at your little family with a heart full of love.

Together you finish cooking breakfast, porridge for the baby and scrambled eggs and turkey bacon for you and Simon.

You begin to set the table as Simon picks up your daughter, supporting her with one arm as he settles her on his hip, so he can move her chair back to the table, but before he can grab the chair he stops dead in his tracks.

Your little girl has grabbed a fistful of his mask in her tiny hand. She doesn’t seem to be pulling on it, or otherwise trying to take it off him, but she also doesn’t seem to want to let go of it when Simon gently takes her hand to get her to release her grip.

“Sweetheart, please…” Simon says softly, but he trails off, a wave of emotions flickering over his eyes, but they end up having a sort of determinant look to them as they lock with his daughter’s.

You feel how your heart skips a beat as Simon lets go of her little hand to instead grip the place his mask is fastened.

With a deep breath, Simon removes the mask, revealing his face to your daughter for the very first time in her young life. You feel goosebumps rise along your arms as Simon’s features come to light. The room falls silent, and time seems to stand still.

Your daughter’s gaze is fixed on Simon, you can see a whirlwind of emotions flickering across her little face.

It’s a pivotal moment that holds the power to change everything. You can see how Simon, too, feels a mix of emotions coursing through him.

He has once mentioned to you that he was afraid that his scars would scare her, but you have had a suspicion that something else might be the reason he has kept the mask on in front of her for.

He does have a few scars from his work, but they are nowhere near severe enough to scare anyone. You do have another theory to why he has kept it on, one he hasn’t directly confirmed, but a conversation from your pregnancy has stuck with you.

He had voiced his concern that something would happen to him on the battlefield. not because he was that concerned for his own wellbeing, he knew what the risks of his job was, but because he was afraid of something happening to him, leaving you and your little one alone in the world. He had, on the whole, had many worries about becoming a father.

He had been worried that his past had broken him so severely that he couldn’t be the dad your daughter needed him to be. Like the fear he also had about you and your relationship in the beginning of it, the fear that he couldn’t be the man you deserved.

He has, in all the time you’ve known him, done everything to disprove that concern, he is the best partner you could ask for and now the most lovable dad to your little girl, but you know that he still has his concerns and that his feelings about them are valid.

You think the mask has served as a sort of safety blanket for him. Like he thought that it would be easier for you and your daughter to lose him if your little girl couldn’t remember his face, or something like that. You find that thought heart rending.

You know that his job comes with a risk, you had known it when you got together and you had known it when you married him and you had known it when you got your daughter. Losing him on the battlefield would be your worst nightmare come true. You know that he is smart, strong and capable, but you also know that there are no guarantees in war, which, to you, is just all the more reason for your daughter to know her father’s face, but you have let Simon choose for himself when he was ready for that.

But you don’t want to think about any of that right now, so you push those thoughts away, and instead let yourself be completely mesmerised by the sight before you

Your little girl focuses on his, now revealed, face, taking in every detail. Her eyes widening in surprise, curiosity, and perhaps even a hint of fear, her little mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as she absorbs every detail of her father’s face.

“It’s just me, princess,” Simon tells her, his voice filled with a mix of amusement, nerves and an overwhelming love for his little girl. His eyes, once guarded, now shine with warmth and affection.

The confirmation of his voice is what convinces her. A wide smile spread across her little face, revealing the adorable dimples she has inherited from Simon, on her sweet, chubby cheeks. She lets out a happy squeal, as she realises that it really is her father who’s now smiling down at her, a set of dimples matching hers on his cheeks.

She giggles happily, which, to you, is the most beautiful sound in the entire world. Her little hands starting to explore Simon’s face, her tiny fingers tracing the lines and contours of it. It’s a gentle and tender gesture that speaks volumes. You watch in awe as the beautiful moment between your daughter and her father unfolds in front of you. It’s a moment you will cherish forever.

When she finally seems satisfied with her mapping of his face with her small hand, she turns her head to look over at you with an excited expression on her little face, one that conveys something along the lines of ‘you seeing this too?’ Her eyes lighting up, reflecting the genuine joy that fills her little heart.

“Yeah, baby, that’s your daddy,” you smile at her, and she lets out another happy shriek before looking back at Simon again, happily nuzzling her little face into his neck. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” You continue as you step forward, placing a hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles over the dusty rose bodystocking that she is wearing, one that Simon picked out when he got her ready and you still laid in bed.

You look up at Simon, a soft smile on his lips as your eyes lock.

“He never wants to believe me when I tell him, but he is actually the most handsome man I know,” you say, with a playful glint in your eyes. “He’s probably the most handsome man in the whole world, actually.”

Simon chuckles, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Oh, come on now,” he replies, his voice a mix of embarrassment and amusement.“I think you might be a bit biassed there, love.”

You shake your head, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Nah, I don’t think I am,” you state, wrapping your arms around both Simon and your little girl in his arms. “Just stating facts. I actually got the most handsome husband and the most beautiful daughter in the whole wide world.” you say with a content sigh, hugging your little family tightly.

It’s a hug that speaks volumes, conveying love, affection and acceptance. In this embrace, you know that you truly have the most beautiful family in the world.

As you finally let go of them you place a sweet kiss on your daughter’s little nose. She giggles joyfully, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratefulness over what a happy little girl you have. Simon seems to be thinking the same as he smiles down at her.

But your adorable little troublemaker doesn’t seem to be done with causing havoc yet.

She reaches out her tiny hand and grabs for the mask again. Simon hesitates for a moment, looking down at the fabric in his hand, the symbol of his past, before letting her have it. The mask, once a symbol of his doubts and fears, now becomes a simple toy for your daughter as she happily shakes it up and down, a cheeky grin on her little face.

You and Simon lock eyes, and then the two of you burst out in laughter.

As your laughter fills the room, a sense of pure joy washes over you. You look at Simon, his eyes sparkling with happiness, and you know in this moment, that the love and bond the three of you share is unbreakable, and it fills your heart with an indescribable warmth.

With a deep sense of gratitude and contentment, you take a mental snapshot of this beautiful moment. It’s a memory that will forever be etched in your mind, a testament to the strength of your love and the joy that radiates from your little girl.

As the laughter subsides, you gather your family close again, embracing the love and happiness that surrounds you. In this embrace, you know that you have everything you could ever need.

Your daughter’s laughter and Simon’s unwavering love fill your life with immeasurable happiness, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the beautiful family you have created.

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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months

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Hey‼️

Soooo I was wondering if u could maybe possibly write an alastor x reader where reader has a secrets admirer and alastor is super jealous but he can't show it bc they're technically only friends and acting protective would be weird.

Bonus points if the read is completely oblivious to his jealousy and eats the snacks from the gift baskets all the time, right in front of him, and wonders why his eyes is twitching so much.

Pleaseee?

👀 I don't have time for this but-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a red flag fr

Description: ☝️⬆️

What does Alastor care if someone wants you? He has no interest in taking you for himself. Nope. Not. At. All.

Would laugh if anybody tried to claim he felt something for you other than mild fondness

It's just been a particularly annoying few weeks because of all the gifts being sent to the hotel with your name on them, from some persistent admirer

So he does his best to convince you that they aren't good enough for you

Alastor feels his mood sour when he hands you a bouquet of flowers, your face lighting up at the sight of them as you hold them like they're precious

He misses the way your smile falters a bit when you read the tag, a small part of you hoping they were from the demon in front of you instead

"Another lackluster gift from what must surely be the most lackluster admirer on this side of the pentagram. Just look at how wilted those flowers are already!"

You shake your head and toy with the petals on the flowers, picking off the dying ones delicately

He loves me... he loves me not...

"Oh hush, it's rather darling that someone took time out of their day to give me something so thoughtful.."

You walk away to put the bouquet into a vase so you miss the twitch in Alastor's eye, the tight clenching of teeth and fierce grip on his staff

"Thoughtful? Those are yellow roses! Yellow roses stand for friendship, not romance! You can do so much better!"

Or another time, you offered him a chocolate, munching away on sweets while holding a heart-shaped box

"Are you confessing to me? You shouldn't, I'm quite the heartbreaker just so you know~"

He regrets saying the words the moment they leave his mouth, but they're the only thing keeping a blush off his face, taking a chocolate to shut himself up

You only hum and roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip as you shake the box at him, mostly all an attempt to get his eyes on the candies instead of your blushing face

"No, my secret little lover dropped off a bunch of these and I can't possibly be expected to eat all of this myself, now can I?"

The sweet treat suddenly feels bitter in his mouth and he wants to rip up the box in your hand

"Oh, so that's why these taste so uninspired! Most likely store bought instead of homemade, such a shame."

You only snort and shake your head, popping another chocolate into your pretty mouth

"Who makes homemade chocolates anymore? Let alone take time out of their day to have them delivered to me?"

Alastor is embarrassed by the warmth and genuine emotion in his voice, his smile softening as he looks you over

"Someone who cares about you enough to recognize you're worth the effort, my dear."

He leaves quickly to avoid any further embarrassment, blushing deeply and sliding the rest of the candy boxes into the trash on his way out

"A-Alastor!!"

"I'm simply doing you a favor, my dear!"

He doesn't see your sputtering and blushing as you try to comprehend what just happened

Alastor can handle the flowers, chocolates and all other sorts of gifts but when the letters start pouring in?? He's about to lose his mind

It's been at least three letters a week, and he's sick of finding them outside the hotel. He actually rips up the ones he gets to first

He finds Charlie and Angel leaning over your shoulder and reading a letter in your hands, a soft blush on your face

Charlie was cooing over how sweet the letter was while Angel was obviously teasing you, making your blush deepen

"And just what is that in your hands, my dear?"

You jump and try to hide the letter but Angel quickly snatches it away to keep reading it, laughing as he does

"Toots here got another love letter from her secret admirer~ They think she's just the most precious babe around~"

Charlie is squealing and fanning herself with her hands as she jumps up and down, making you groan and hide your face in your hands

"Isn't it just so romantic? They're really head over heels in love with her!"

Alastor feels his eye twitch as he snatches the letter from Angel to read it over himself, ignoring the noise of protest that comes from you

Finally, he glances over at you, crumpling the letter up and ripping it into pieces in front of everyone

"Well now! That was about the worst thing I've read all day!"

It felt good to rip it up, picturing it to be your admirer instead

You stand there in shock, eyeing the bits of paper then Alastor, Angel and Charlie slowly backing out of the room only to peek their heads back in

"They... they said I was beautiful."

Well... now he feels a little bad...

He recovers quickly though and wraps a casual arm around you, guiding you away from the mess as Niffty runs in to clean it up

"That's exactly what they wrote in the last one! It's nothing new, I'm afraid! Truly, you deserve better than that!"

You pout and lean your head on him a little, trying not to look disappointed about the letter

"Yeah? And just what do I deserve?"

He grins at you and leans in, pulling you closer to him

"Let me show you, my dear~"

You simply roll your eyes as you let him lead you out of the hotel on a walk, enjoying the weight of his arm around you

There's no more secret admirer after that, which suits you both just fine

Here~

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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atlabeth · 2 months

Text

the first ball (aka luke goes a little insane)

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: okay these two literally just like. possess me because i am already thinking about them always. thank you to those who sent in requests, they were already things i wanted to write for them in the future so it's perfect!! we're all on the same wavelength fr i just needed to get this out before i started on them

wc: 3.2k

warning(s): luke is a lil sad </3 knightly duties are rough

once again, a mix of hc's and traditional fic!

okay so last time we left off luke had been knighted and you were kind of upset that he straight up promised to die for you.

since then, things have smoothed out a bit. The fire inside of you has cooled.

It was easy to get used to Luke’s constant presence. It was a bit more difficult to get used to what it truly meant for him to be a knight.

In private, he was mostly the same Luke you knew. When he would walk you back to your room at the end of the night and you would invite him in, and you’d sit on the floor and talk for much longer than you should. Go out to the balcony with him and stare at the stars, wondering aloud about your future. You would crack jokes in the hallway and he’d laugh like always—he’d actually talk with you, act the way you have for years.

In public, though, he had a different part to act. And that part was largely silent. During meetings he would stand with all the other knights, and the most you could get out of him was a slight smile or a glint in his eye when you looked over at him after something ridiculous was said.

More often than not, his role in your life was to trail quietly behind you or stand at attention.

Sometimes, when the knights would train in view of your balcony, you would stand there and watch, just so you could see Luke display some fierceness, some emotion other than the obedience that was required.

You had to get it into your head that you weren’t just you and Luke anymore.

You’re the Crown Princess, the sole heir to the throne, and Luke is the member of the crownsguard, a knight entrusted to your personal protection.

Things are different now, and you wonder how long it’ll take you to get that through your head.

and things are about to get a little more complicated for you both lol

It’s your first ball since Luke was knighted, which means that it’s the first ball he’s coming to with you.

When you were younger, you typically stayed home and you and Luke would mess around the entire night; stealing treats from the kitchens, giving your governess the runaround, and running out to the castle grounds to do whatever the hell you wanted.

Once you were old enough to accompany your parents, Luke would just have to be alone. His mother always went with your family, seeing as she was your father’s guard, but Luke only had servants and knights decades his elder for company.

He usually ended up training, roaming around the grounds himself, or thinking of you.

Actually, no matter what he was doing, he was typically thinking of you.

Luke would wait up until you came home and listen to you talk and talk and complain and talk about everything that happened. He could be seconds from falling asleep and then he would hear the horses and carriages and he would be back on his feet immediately, instantly going to find you.

You mostly complained—about how your feet hurt from the shoes, how you had to talk to so many stuffy nobles (he would remind you that by definition, you were the stuffiest noble), how you had to pretend like you cared about anything anyone was saying.

Luke doesn’t care, though. He’s always loved listening to you.

One thing is typically the same, though.

“I wish you were there, Luke.”

(So does he.)

Times seemed so simple then, when you were just there to be there—you didn’t have to think of the intricacies of politics, you were just a twelve-year-old who happened to be a princess.

And now you’re only two months from eighteen, and you’re already feeling all of the pressure.

Namely in the form of a marriage.

Relations with your neighboring kingdoms are shaky as hell but they’re a necessity if you want to keep any modicum of peace. No one likes it, but you’d like war a little bit less so you’ve gotta suck it up.

The easiest way to keep the peace is through alliances, and the easiest way to get an alliance is through marriage. Fortunately for Aurelda, the princess is eligible and seems to be the subject of many noble affections.

Unfortunately for you, that princess is in fact you.

And for like, the first time since Luke has been knighted, you’ve actually been separated from each other for the majority of the day

Luke had to get a lecture on knightly etiquette, this being the first ball he’ll have attended away from Aurelda. He’s gained a temper as he’s gotten older, and the last thing anyone needed was for him to lose it in the midst of peace talks.

And you were busy with all sorts of preparations. A meeting with your parents and their advisors ensuring you would know what to talk about, a meeting alone with your parents ensuring you knew how to act as the Crown Princess in times like these. A talk from your parents not as their daughter, but as their heir, on how to deal with the suitors you would meet.

Unlike the Aureldan nobles that would thrust their sons in front of you in the dim hopes of sparking your interest, the men you would meet at this ball would actually be potential husbands. Princes, sons of the richest dukes and earls—and you would be expected to entertain whatever advances they deemed appropriate, or worse—make the advances yourself.

The thought of it was a bit overwhelming.

And obviously, Luke is such a fan of it.

(He kind of wants to die just imagining it.)

(But he doesn’t tell you that.)

You leave Aurelda a few days before the ball to make sure you’ll make it in time (carriage rides go crazy)

unfortunately, Luke is on horseback alongside the rest of the cavalry and so you have nobody to save you from the continued lectures of your parents. They really just want everything to go perfectly, and you understand it, but you’re already tired of this.

You arrive the morning of the ball so you spend near the entire day accompanying your parents as they talk with the royal family—at one point you’re forced to go off on your own with their son who just happens to be your age.

He’s nice, at least—just dreadfully boring. You manage to slip away from him at one point after he gets distracted talking with a servant, and Luke follows you without complaint.

“Do not say a word,” you told him.

“As my princess decrees,” he said, amused.

At the end of it all, an hour before you’re meant to leave, you find yourself in your room with Luke. He’s standing guard at the door, and you’re making last minute adjustments to your appearance.

You should both probably be somewhere else—everything has to go perfect tonight, and you feel as if the entire staff has been in disarray trying to ensure that—but you had to get away.

And if you’re getting away, Luke is coming with you.

It doesn’t matter that it’s his duty—he would do it anyway. He thinks he’d do anything you ask.

You’re also very thankful that he doesn’t snitch on you—sometimes, you’re able to appeal to best friend Luke rather than Sir Luke.

You’re fixing up the last couple bits of your appearance, ensuring all your jewelry is shiny and your gown fits just right and your makeup is perfect.

The only sound is your sighs and hums and the clinking of your bracelets. You feel Luke’s eyes on you the entire time, and then he finally speaks up.

“I don’t like this, princess,” Luke said.

“Really?” you hummed. “I think I look quite dashing.”

“You always look beautiful,” he said, “but you know that’s not what I mean.”

“You don’t like much,” you mused, adjusting the position of your necklace.

“This ball is a bad idea,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you said. “It’s enough that my mother is staying home—if I don’t go, especially now that I’m of marrying age, it’ll be taken as a huge insult.”

“Let them be insulted,” he said. “Your safety is more important than their feelings.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you turned around and cocked your head at him. “Everything is going to be okay, Luke. No one would be bold enough to…”

You trailed off, your smile fading as the memories fronted. It had been almost two years and it still felt so fresh.

Of course Luke would be thinking of it—this would be his first ball in a foreign kingdom as your knight. His mind was probably reeling thinking of all the ways you could be murdered.

You shook your head before the memories could fully surface, before you could entertain any possible disasters. “It’s going to be okay,” you repeated, more forcefully this time. “You’ll be by my side the entire time, right?”

“Of course,” he huffed. “I just hate the thought of you having to go through all of this.”

“It is what I was born to do,” you said wryly. “I’m going to lead this kingdom someday.”

“Queen is a good title for you,” he admitted. “It seems so far away, though.”

You huffed. “And may it remain that way.”

You moved closer to the mirror to check your makeup, which was when you realized you forgot the most important piece.

You picked up your most prized necklace from your jewelry box and undid the tie. You attempted to get it back together around your neck, but for some reason you couldn’t get the knot from this angle. After a few fruitless attempts, your shoulders sagged.

“Luke,” you grumbled, “can you help me with this?”

You could see his raised eyebrows in the mirror. “If you can’t do it, what makes you think I can?”

You didn’t give him an answer, instead turning around to face him as you batted your eyelashes. “Please.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Please,” you repeated, jutting your lip out. “You can swing a sword—you can do up a necklace.”

Luke sighed, but he was already removing his gauntlets, setting them on your bed. “You’re dangerous, princess.”

You smiled inwardly, and once he was done and walking over to you, you held out the pendant.

Luke paused as he took it, and his eyes darted back up to yours with the slightest smile on his lips. “You still have this?”

“Of course I do,” you said. “It was from you.”

It was only five years ago, but it felt like a century. Luke had gone into town with his mother when your father was cooped up all day in meetings. He’d come back beaming brighter than the sun, proclaiming he’d gotten a gift for you.

Luke was paid a tiny sum per month at May’s request for the chores and work he did around the castle—she claimed it would keep him in order if he was rewarded for staying in order. It partially worked.

Luke saved for months under your nose, and used what meager gold he possessed to buy you a simple pendant from a merchant. Once again, your excited scream must have echoed through the entire castle.

You wore it every day for the next year and a half, but at some point after tragedy struck, it ended up out of rotation.

But you’d always had it, even when you weren’t wearing it.

Always.

“I just thought…” He glanced back down at it before looking back at you. “It’s not nearly as nice as your other jewelry.”

“It’s from you,” you repeated. “That means it’s my best piece.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, and he gestured for you to turn around. You did, and you watched his work through the reflection.

His callouses scratched your skin ever so slightly as he moved your hair out of the way, and a shiver ran up your spine both at his touch and the cool air hitting your bare skin. You were silent as he positioned the pendant, not daring to even breathe.

He tied it together with deft fingers, and you smiled as you felt the leather cord settle around your neck again.

“And you said you couldn’t do it,” you said wryly.

“Perfect,” he murmured, almost to himself. Almost as if he’d forgotten you could hear him.

For a moment, time froze. Luke’s hands just barely grazed the bare skin of your neck, and your breath caught in your chest at his proximity. He’d done what you asked, but he didn’t move. You didn’t ask him to—you didn’t think anything would come out if you tried.

You could see his lips part, but they opened and closed a few times before he managed words.

“Princess, I—”

And then there was a very loud knock on your door, jolting the two of you apart. Air finally returned to you as you tried your hardest to will the heat out of your entire body, and Luke was putting his gauntlets back on quicker than you’d ever seen.

“Come in!” you exclaimed, voice higher pitched than usual as you smoothed out your gown and fixed your hair and felt the blaze beneath your skin.

Your lady’s maid opened the door, not even paying Luke a second glance. “I was wondering where you were, Your Highness.”

You forced a smile, thankful for all your childhood training that it would be at least somewhat believable. “My apologies. I required some time alone after the chaos of today.”

She nodded. “You needn’t apologize, Your Highness, but it is necessary you get on your way. Your Majesty is nearly ready, and it is imperative you enter together.”

You swallowed thickly as you glanced over at Luke. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you.

“…Of course,” you said. “Lead the way.”

You followed your lady’s maid and Luke trailed after you. For some forsaken reason your skin still burned where he’d touched you.

and you’re expected to entertain other suitors tonight with Luke in the vicinity.

god help you.

but anyways. you manage to regain most of your bearings by the time you reach your father—Luke still won’t look at you, but you can’t deal with that problem right now, even if it’s clawing at your insides—and your father helps calm you down before you go in.

You enter the ballroom on the arm of your father as the two of you are announced, and your hold on him tightens as you see the sheer number of people here. It all feels much more overwhelming than it did when you were younger—maybe because you understand what this all means.

You continue to stand with your father, clapping politely as other royals are introduced, connecting faces to names and descriptions that you’ve been quizzed on for years.

It isn’t long after the king of the kingdom you’re visiting gives his speech that you’re pulled into a conversation with your father, and it takes five seconds for you to realize this is what the rest of the night is going to be like.

You search for Luke by the wall with all the other guards, but you can’t find him. You sigh and let your attention be drawn back to the conversation at hand.

Luke, meanwhile, can see everything. He sees you looking for him, he sees you talking with the prince of a nearby kingdom, he sees both your and his father casually moving away to leave the two of you to talk alone.

He says nothing.

Not that he can, anyways. Luke stands at attention with the other crownsguard, specifically stationed next to your father’s personal guard. He’s within view of every exit, and he can’t help but profile every person that walks past him.

He’s especially honing in on every person that talks to you throughout the night. His mind is working overdrive trying to remember all the names of foreign royalty—he feels like he’s already made up ten worst case scenarios for how this night could go.

It only takes another hour for the prince of the kingdom you’re in to find you and spark up a conversation, and a muscle works ever so slightly in Luke’s jaw.

He already had to deal with that dull prince for hours, showing you around the castle and trying to start conversation and just making everything so dreadfully boring Luke was surprised you could handle it.

That was why you were the princess, after all. You could take everything in stride with a pleasant smile—Luke fought his way through his problems.

He couldn’t exactly fight through this one.

But you sure as hell could smile through it—and gods, your smile was beautiful. No wonder you were talking with what seemed to be your fifth prince of the night.

Whatever he says makes you laugh. The prince places his hand on your arm, and Luke feels himself flinch.

He’s thankful that the guards are the same as background decorations for a majority of the people here. He’s gotten good at controlling his emotions when he has to, but none of his slipups will be noticed. Not by the crowd, not by your father, not by you.

It’s a torturous existence that Luke’s got going on here. It’s his job to look out for you, to watch the every move of you and those around you, because he has to be the first to act if anything goes wrong.

But it’s not all that great for him when he’s just watching royal after royal vie for your hand.

At least, that’s what he figures they’re doing. He can’t exactly hear everything through the revelry, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Luke keeps going back to the two of you alone, you asking—pleading, practically—for him to help with your necklace.

The necklace he got you in a childish declaration of love, that he thought you had forgotten about.

You hadn’t.

It looks out of place, he knows that much—a piece of himself among gold jewelry and shimmering gems. A leather cord holding onto a rough piece of turquoise, your initials carved into the back in the corner—his own work.

You had a part of him with you as noble sons tried to woo you, as you tried to take the next step into your future.

He doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse

Sometimes, Luke wonders if you know. Oftentimes, Luke wonders if you could feel the same.

He never lets himself entertain that train of thought for very long.

It doesn’t matter how he feels. It doesn’t matter if you went against all rationality and somehow felt the same.

Because you’re a princess—the heir to the Aureldan throne. Expected to marry and produce heirs and lead your kingdom into a golden age of peace.

Luke is just a knight.

Nothing will ever happen.

That’s the only thing he needs to remember.

But that doesn’t mean his lip doesn’t curl in disdain ever so slightly when the orchestra starts up, signifying the beginning of dances, and that tiresome prince offers you his hand.

You take it, smiling back at him as you walk onto the floor together with other pairs.

Remember your place, Castellan, he thinks.

It's a lot harder than it should be.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan headcanon #luke castellan au #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #knight!luke #sadie writes

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sixosix · 10 months

Text

cw injuries, desc of blood, scara patching reader up, profanity bc its a sixosix fic AND it’s scara, wc 500

for @scarahearts the craziest scara main

“so annoying,” wanderer hisses under his breath, cursing again. his breath is on your skin, almost as scorching as the scowl he’s wearing. “infuriating. is your hobby getting on people’s nerves?”

“is your hobby degrading your patients?” you retort, then yelp when he tightens the bandage a little too hard. “ow— fuck you!”

he smirks smugly at your defeated glare, but it fades quickly and back to a frown when blood seeps from the cloth.

you murmur and fidget, “sorry for inconveniencing you.”

his gaze snaps up, sharp. that was probably the wrong thing to say.

“thanks for helping me…?” you try instead. he rolls his eyes.

wanderer stares at your plastered arm for a moment too long, eyes tracing the curve of your elbow, where blood is seeping and staining the once beige bandage dirty red. he then sneers, a snarl of teeth; you can almost see in his eyes where he’s replaying the exact moment you were picked up and thrown to the ground.

you almost want to say that shouki no kami did the same thing to you (read: the balladeer himself), but you have a feeling that those canines aren’t for show, and he’ll end up biting your arm off or something.

you’re startled out of your skin when he suddenly grabs your chin with his hand, rough and demanding you to get a clear view of his displeased expression. ...and yet the grip he has on your injured arm is gentle. a mess of contradictions, a push and a pull, a scowl and a brush of skin—hate, and love.

“when will it get in your fucking head—” he enunciates each word by pulling you closer and closer to him, until your faces are a heavy breath away, “—that you have travel companions for a reason? am i just for show? a doll for you to show off?”

instinctively, you back away, a little bit of fear racing in your heart at the familiar hostile face he’s making. “it’s not that! it’s— i wasn’t— thinking.”

“right. because nothing ever goes in that pretty little head of yours,” wanderer muses, readily agreeing.

“hey,” you fume, face burning.

“you disagree? prove me wrong, then.” he still doesn’t let go of your face. and although puppets do not need to breathe, there’s warm air shared between the two of you where his lips are in close distance with yours. “prove to me that you aren’t forgetting i can fight just as well as you. that i am completely capable of protecting myself and you.”

“that’s not…” you want to say that your little incident didn’t involve any of that, but his gaze is fierce. you realize that it may not be your intention, but it might be what came off to him. “...okay.”

after a beat, you add; an afterthought, “you don’t have to protect me. you saw that i was able to beat their asses easi—” at his unimpressed stare, you correct yourself, “—with a bit of slipping here and there. still, i won.”

“not without an almost severed arm.”

without thinking too much about it, you say, “let’s protect each other, then.”

surprise flits across wanderer’s expression before it settles into something like muted satisfaction. “don’t make it a promise, so you can’t break it.” it’s the closest you can get a ‘yes’ out of him.

im gonna be honest i dont know where this came from like i literally tokd myself if im gonna write a genshin fic itll be HEIZOU. but this bitch held me hostage at 2am with a phone and google docs open — and then i made it happen fr for ellie cus we both lost our minds over the scara art in the 3.8 stream

#606:GENSHIN #??#genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin impact x you #wanderer x reader #scaramouche drabble #x reader #genshin x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x reader

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dontyouworrydaddy · 10 months

Note

First of all, let me tell you about how much I love your blog and your writing style. Your fics quality is top notch and I giggle like an idiot every time I see a new post from you. So, if it's ok with you can you write about our favorite COD men (including daddy Konig and Simon) whose SO keeps getting texts from her asshole ex - some of them begging to take him back and others borderline threatening, like "who's that dude you're dating now? You think you can replace me that easily?" etc. And our boys accidentally see these texts. How would they react to that situation? Thank you so much :)

𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒

Task Force 141 (+König) x fem! reader

You have no idea how much I appreciate these kind words. Like you literally just made me CRY because I‘m so happy to hear that. You guys motivate me to keep writing fr🫶🏻🫶🏻😭 I love you so much and I‘m so thankful to you! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Also I love the idea oh my god. I can imagine them being super mad at him and be like as soon as she’s sleeping I‘m gonna haunt that mf and be super caring and not leaving your side until you’re okay again. AHHHH I have so many ideas I can’t put them all into words😮‍💨😫😫

I hope you enjoy this fanfic! Thank you again for the kind words, I really do appreciate it❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

➽───────────────❥

König

König found himself in a situation he hadn't anticipated. As he and you went about your daily lives, a series of text messages from your ex started flooding your phone. König couldn't help but catch glimpses of these messages, each one more distressing than the last.

I know you miss me

I still have that red dress from you…

You can stop acting like you don’t need me anymore and just come back ;)

You date insecure guys now? Wow Y/N… I mean I knew I was the best for you but I didn’t expect that low from you

I saw you the other day… You got a lot sexier ;))

I miss you so much baby. I love you…

They were filled with toxic words, attempting to undermine the happiness you had found with König.

Upon stumbling upon these messages, König's usually calm and composed demeanor wavered, replaced by a mix of concern and protectiveness. He couldn't fathom why someone would target you in such a hurtful way and it stirred a fire within him that burned with a fierce determination to shield you from harm.

His grip tightened around his phone as he confronted you, his voice laced with worry. "Schatz, what is this? Who is sending you these messages?" His eyes searched yours, a mix of anger and concern burning in their depths. But he wasn’t angry at you. He was more angry at himself because he feels like he failed as a boyfriend. His only mission is to make you feel comfortable and it feels like he failed at it. Because you didn’t talk to him…

You took a deep breath, realizing that the time had come to open up and share the painful truth. "It's my ex. He's been unable to let go and now he's trying to sabotage our relationship. I've been trying to handle it on my own, but it's becoming overwhelming."

The weight of your words settled between you, the gravity of the situation sinking in. König's protective instincts kicked into high gear as he reached out, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "Liebling" he whispered, his voice filled with determination, "You don't have to face this alone. I'm here for you and together we'll navigate through this storm."

His words were like a balm to your soul, offering solace and reassurance in a world that felt suddenly tumultuous. You found strength in his unwavering support, knowing that you didn't have to battle your ex's toxicity alone.

With each new text that appeared on your phone, König became even more resolved to protect you. He devised a plan to confront your ex, making it clear that his attempts to sow discord and threaten your happiness would not be tolerated.

But König's reaction wasn't solely driven by anger. It was driven by love and a deep understanding of the pain you were experiencing. He knew that these messages were more than just words on a screen…they were emotional daggers that pierced your heart. And he will make sure that your ex will never bother you again. Trust him.

Simon Riley

In the midst of it all the chaos he‘s been through, there was you, a source of light and solace that gave his dead life light. The two of you navigated the challenges of life together, an unwelcome presence lingered, threatening to disrupt the tranquility you had built.

But you were constantly tormented by text messages from your ex Josh. The messages were a relentless barrage of mixed emotions, ranging from desperate pleas for reconciliation to menacing threats aimed at undermining your newfound happiness. It was a constant reminder of a past you were trying to move beyond. It was always him trying to manipulate you into leaving Simon and go back to him.

One fateful evening, as you lay beside Simon, your phone illuminated with yet another message from your ex. Simon, ever vigilant and protective, caught a glimpse of the text and as soon as he read the words "I still think about you when I’m on my bed alone", anger flashed in his eyes. He knew about your crazy ex.

Concern etched across his face as he realized the torment you had been enduring in silence. You turn your phone around and looked up at Simon. So many emotions were written on his face that made you tear up.

Carefully, Simon pulled you into his arms, offering a comforting embrace. His touch was gentle, his voice soothing as he reassured you that you were safe with him. In that moment, he became your shield, determined to protect you from the darkness that lurked in your past.

As you drifted off to sleep, exhaustion finally claiming you, Simon's heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and anger. He couldn't bear to see you suffer any longer. Resolute, he rose from the bed, leaving you in peaceful slumber and made his way to confront the source of your personal torture.

Due to his Job, it was easy for him to find out where he was living. And with determination etched upon his features, Simon found himself standing outside your ex's residence. He had no intention of resorting to violence, but his presence alone was enough to unnerve the cowardly individual who had been preying on your vulnerability.

As the door swung open, revealing your ex's face, a mix of surprise and fear washed over him. Before he could utter a single word, Simon's voice rang out with authority. "Leave her alone mate. If you ever come near her again, you'll regret it. And I‘m not a man to play fucking games with"

Josh felt the weight of Simon's unwavering resolve, cowered beneath his gaze. Fear clouded his eyes as he stammered out a half-hearted apology. Without further hesitation, Simon turned on his heel and walked away, leaving your ex to contemplate the consequences of his actions.

Meanwhile, back at home, you stirred awake, finding Simon by your side, his gaze filled with comfort and love. Wordlessly, he climbed back into bed, pulling you close, and kissed your forehead with a mix of gentleness and possessiveness.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," Simon whispered, his voice filled with a fierce protectiveness. "You're safe with me. Always."

In that moment, you knew that Simon was not only your lover but your guardian, a force that would go to any lengths to shield you from harm. And as you drifted back into a peaceful sleep, your heart swelled with gratitude, knowing that you were truly cherished by the man who would stop at nothing to keep you safe.

John MacTavish

You felt a mixture of frustration and fear as your ex continued to invade your life. The messages ranged from desperate pleas for reconciliation to thinly veiled threats, designed to unsettle and intimidate you. The constant reminders of your past were enough to make anyone's heart race and palms sweat.

One chance. Please baby.

Are you really dating a scottish man? You‘ve sunk so low.

One evening, as you and John were relaxing together, the barrage of texts became too much to bear. With a heavy sigh, you pulled out your phone, revealing the string of toxic messages that had invaded your peaceful sanctuary.

I will have you back, I‘m waiting baby.

John's eyes widened as he read the manipulative words that spilled across the screen. Without hesitation, John wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He understood the fear and turmoil that consumed you and he was determined to be your shield, protecting you from the pain of your past. His voice, laced with a mixture of concern and determination, filled the room.

"Baby" John spoke softly, "I won't let him hurt you anymore. You're safe with me, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that."

His comforting words and his strong embrace provided a temporary respite from the torment. As exhaustion claimed you, sleep finally descended upon your weary mind and body. Unbeknownst to you, John's resolve had been steeled.

As you slept, John quietly slipped away, his footsteps echoing with purpose as he made his way towards your ex's location. The darkness of the night seemed to amplify the intensity of his emotions. Anger simmered beneath his stoic exterior, a force ready to be unleashed upon the person who had dared to threaten the newfound happiness he shared with you.

John's arrival sent a shockwave through your ex's world. The smug arrogance that had permeated his messages quickly evaporated as he realized the true extent of John's determination. Fear replaced bravado, and he attempted to escape from the formidable soldier who now stood before him.

But there was no escape. John, fueled by a protective instinct, pursued your ex relentlessly, his presence an indomitable force that left no room for evasion. "Text my girl ever again and oh boy you wish your mom never gave birth to you" Cornered and overwhelmed, your ex succumbed to his fear and fled, leaving behind the remnants of a broken ego.

As John returned to your side, a mix of relief and admiration washed over him. The confrontation had served its purpose: to ensure your safety and send a clear message to anyone who dared to threaten your peace of mind.

You awoke to find John by your side, his features softened by the moonlight that filtered through the window. His eyes met yours, filled with a blend of tenderness and determination.

"He won't bother you again," John assured you, his voice unwavering. "I'll always protect you, no matter what."

In that moment, as you gazed into the depths of John's unwavering devotion, you knew that you were not alone. With him by your side, you felt a renewed sense of strength and security.

John Price

You had tried to move on from the toxic relationship that had left scars on your heart. But your ex refused to let go, bombarding you with text messages that ranged from desperate pleas to borderline threats. Each message chipped away at your sense of peace and security.

One evening, as you sat with John, sharing the burden of your past, a notification flashed across your phone screen. The words that appeared before you were a cruel reminder of the darkness that still lingered.

Who's that dude you're dating now? You think you can replace me that easily?

Your heart sank as you realized John had caught a glimpse of the message. The look in his eyes, a mix of concern and anger, mirrored the tumultuous emotions raging within you.

John's voice was steady, but determination laced his words. "Baby, I can't stand by and let this continue. He needs to understand that his behavior is unacceptable and that he must leave you alone."

A mix of fear and relief washed over you, knowing that John would go to such lengths to protect you. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "I want to move on and leave this behind. But it’s getting so difficult" All night he did nothing but hold you as you cried because the memories kept adding up. And John did nothing but kiss and hold you the entire night.

The next morning, as the sun painted the sky with shades of gold, John prepared to leave for what appeared to be a simple grocery shopping.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited, anxiety and anticipation mingling within you. Hours passed and just when doubt threatened to seep into your thoughts, you heard the familiar sound of John's footsteps approaching the door.

His face bore the signs of a confrontation, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and determination. John took you in his arms, holding you tightly, as if to shield you from the remnants of the past that clung to your spirit.

"He won't bother you again" he whispered, his voice filled with an unyielding resolve. "I made it clear that his actions were unacceptable. He knows the consequences if he dares to cross that line." and you knew that he went over and made it clear to him to never text you ever again.

Tears welled in your eyes, a mix of gratitude and relief streaming down your cheeks. You gazed into John's eyes, overwhelmed by the love and protection he offered so selflessly.

"I don't know how to thank you, John," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "You've given me a sense of safety and peace that I thought I had lost forever."

His grip tightened, his voice a comforting reassurance. "You don't have to thank me, my love. It's what love does. It protects and empowers. I won't let anyone hurt you, not while I'm here."

Kyle Garrick

You stood there, reading the text messages that illuminated your phone screen, each word like a dagger to your heart. The messages from your ex, filled with desperation and anger were a painful reminder of a past you desperately wanted to forget. His words were like poison, seeping into your thoughts and threatening to unravel the happiness you had found with Kyle. The man you want to share your life with.

Just as you were about to put your phone away, hoping to bury the unsettling messages deep within your mind, you heard a gasp from behind you. Turning, you saw Kyle, his eyes fixated on the screen, his face a mix of concern and anger.

"Love?" he murmured, his voice laced with sympathy and a fire burning within, "I didn't realize you were going through this. I'm so sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the pain of the messages threatening to overwhelm you. But Kyle, ever the steadfast protector, closed the distance between you, wrapping his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace.

His words, infused with a fierce protectiveness, resonated within you. As he held you close, you felt a sense of safety and reassurance wash over you, erasing the fear and uncertainty that had plagued your heart.

Days passed and Kyle prepared for his next mission, a dangerous assignment that would take him away from you for a while. But before he left, he made a promise to himself, and to you. He would confront your ex, ensuring that he never dared to disturb your peace again.

As he set out on his mission, he carried with him the weight of your trust and the burning desire to protect you from harm. And when the time came, bruised and battered, he sought out your ex, determined to make him understand the consequences of his actions.

Face to face, Kyle confronted the man who had caused you so much pain, his eyes ablaze with an unwavering resolve. Your ex, taken aback by the sight of Kyle's injuries, cowered before him, realizing the severity of his actions. He pleaded for mercy, promising to leave you alone for good.

Kyle’s voice filled with an authority that brooked no argument, made it clear that any further harassment or threat would be met with severe consequences.

When he finally returned home, weary but determined, you met him at the door. The weight of the past seemed to dissolve as he enveloped you in his arms, the warmth of his embrace erasing the remnants of fear and doubt. In that moment, you knew that together, you could face anything.

After seeing him all bruised up but with a smile on his face, you couldn’t help but jump into his arms. In his embrace, you found healing. The scars of the past fading into insignificance compared to the love that bloomed between you. Together, you would face the challenges that lay ahead, fortified by the strength of your bond and the knowledge that no matter what, you were not alone.

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elliespeach · 1 year

Text

no chances | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"scared yet?" ´ˎ˗

pairing: ellie x afab reader synopsis: you and ellie are on rival volleyball teams and your dangerously competitive nature gets the better of the two of you. warnings: 18+, foul language, sexual descriptions, men (the coaches), eventual smut (ellie n reader) i changed the rules a bit, ik liberos have rules tehy gotta follow but to hell w that for the plot author note: the name comes from the twenty one pilots song!! i lowkey had sm fun writing this, i watched womens volleyball as i did and yall....volleyball ellie has my heart fr. this is gonna be a series n im excited to see where it goes wordcount: 2k ishhh

ellie pressed her feet flat to the floor, eyes locked on the other side of the net. she was behind her usual middle blocker, her arms raised up to align themselves with her stomach, her hands interlocked and her thumbs pressed together. she waited patiently, the sweat dripping off of her eyebrow and down to the gym floor.

she sized up the team in front of her, ellie’s team played them often as they were rival colleges, especially for women's volleyball. her eyes scanned the team, the coach called a player in from the back row, the girl placed herself on the bench with a solemn look expression. that’s when ellie saw you emerge from the far side of that same bench, once previously blocked by standing bodies. she sighed heavily and muttered “fuck.” to herself as she watched you approach your coach. a pep in your step, and ellie rolled her eyes. you took the place of the previous girl in the back row, grinning ear to ear.

ellie was hoping you weren’t playing today, the amount of times you two had gone against each other was uncountable. both of you being exceptional liberos caused a rivalry of it’s own between the two of you to manifest over months. she couldn’t stand you and it was because you were just as good and just as passionate as she was but she refused to admit it, even to herself. despite your fierce competitive nature with ellie turning sour, you thought it was funny to taunt her. her expression would change in a heartbeat, and you knew it got to her before she composed herself. but you’d be lying if you said she didn’t get to you either because she most definitely did.

you caught ellie’s eye and waved teasingly to her, mouthing a slow and pronounced, “good luck.” and ellie darted her eyes away, not wanting to be distracted by you. she shook her head from the thought of you and heard the familiar smack of the serve from your team. the ball went up and over the net flawlessly. her team kept the ball up, passing it back over with ease and ellie glanced at you while you stared down the ball with focused eyes. your setter mistakenly hit the ball at an angle which sent you diving to the floor to keep it up, shooting it straight back into the air and the outside hitter sent it back to ellies team.

it went on like this for a while, sending the ball bouncing between the two sides of the court. the score quickly became nearly tied at twenty-two points. for a quick second, ellie caught you staring at her and her head cocked to the side, feeling her competitive nature step forward. “scared?” she mouthed tauntingly, a fake pout splayed across her face. focusing back to her team, ellie turned with the surge of confidence flowing through her, the ball came directly to her from the setter and she took her opportunity. from the back row, ellie jumped straight up, her hand connected with the ball with a hard slap, sending it flying right at you as if on purpose. she had distracted you well enough, you fumbled, the ball bounces off your hands and to the floor.

her teammates shouted in triumph, giving her several highfives and she looked back at you through the white net as they cheered, “sorry.” she mouthed again, her shoulders coming up to shrug dramatically. your face turned into a snarl, determined to do the same back to her. ellie’s team served next, shooting the ball up and over the net and it somehow went directly to you. you set the ball to your outside hitter beside you, and ellie heard you shout “back! back! back!” indicating to return the ball to you. with this ellie lowered herself, readying for a strong spike towards her head, she didn’t know much about you but she knew you didn’t miss.

as you jumped up, your arm swung back furiously but as your hand came in contact with the ball, you hit it lightly, barely tipping it over the edge of the net. ellie’s team was caught off-guard, missing the ball and letting it fall to the floor. ellie bit her bottom lip in frustration, resetting her stance and glaring at you up and down. your uniform was form-fitting, of course your black shirt standing out among your teammates making it all the more easy for her. you didn’t meet ellie’s gaze once while your team celebrated their small victory and that upset her more than if you had.

there had been times during previous games that you two had gotten in arguments across the court, resulting in sitting out for the rest of the game. “you did that on purpose!” ellie would shout, her finger pointed directly at you accusingly, stepping towards the net. “only because you did it first!” you would scream back, your teammate holding you back from approaching the net while ellie egged you on, shouting obscenities that you so kindly returned to her.

it was always childish arguments like this, and your teammates could feel the tension building on the court as the game went on, everyone was competitive but you and ellie took it to another level that made people uncomfortable. “pretentious bit–” ellie’s coach would approach her, cutting her off in fear of being disqualified. “oh, i'm pretentious?” you would bypass your team, walking up to the net furious. “you’re a fuc–” your team pulled you back and kept you quiet for the same reasons.

nearing the end of the game, ellie was sweating hard, her auburn hair sticking to her forehead from the hot gym. she watched as you readied yourself, your arms moving up swiftly and you flicked your head to the side to remove the hair that was plaguing your face. she was staring for a little too long, stuck in some kind of haze, her ears rang and her vision went fuzzy. her teammates moved in a blur around her as the ball landed on her side of the court and she snapped her head, regaining her focus quickly, moving her hands to set the ball. it fell short and ellie threw herself forward on her stomach to reach it. she managed to bounce it but not anywhere near where she had to, her teammate fell short to get it and it fell to the ground.

ellie cursed under her breath, bringing herself to her feet. she earned a look from her teammate beside her and she shrugged, annoyed. a dangerous look plastered on her face she scanned through the net for the black shirt. she spotted you fist-bumping the girl next to you and as if you felt ellie’s eyes on you, your head turned caughting her gaze. you smirked, a confident gaze settling over your eyes that ellie could see from afar. her tongue pressed against her cheek, trying to keep her cool like her coach instructed her to do. but as you two stared into each other you mouthed a steady, “scared yet?” a dumb look on your face as you mocked her.

ellie bubbled over, her hands balled at her fists and she stormed up to the net. her cheeks were on fire and her chest felt extraordinarily heavy. her coach was on his feet, but he couldn’t reach ellie in time before she opened her mouth. “you know what? fuck you!” she shouted, making sure you heard her.

you did, loud and clear. you practically fought your teammates to get to the net, only a few feet separating the two of you. your chest was heaving between the anger that filled you and the game you’ve been playing. ellie’s white libero shirt piercing your eyes compared to her team's mutual black shirts. “i didn’t do anything you didn’t fuckin’ do!” you yelled back with such aggression that it made your voice hoarse.

you watched as ellie’s coach grabbed her arm but she didn’t break eye contact with you, her hateful stare intensifying. her coach dragged her away and you turned, your heart beating even faster than before. “you’re out of the game, williams!” her coach tells her sternly, ellie tried to rebut but he told her to sit on the bench. she groaned, rolling her eyes and sitting down with a huff.

you watched as this happened a small smile crept onto your lips as she sat down, ellie never looking in your direction. your head turns to your coach who is approaching you. “you too, go!” the coach says with conviction, pointing his finger to the bench on your side of the court. your smile disappeared within an instant.

“i didn’t say anything!” you try to defend yourself, but your coach just shakes his head and repeats for you to leave as well. you throw yourself onto the seat, not daring to look at ellie for the rest of the game, and ellie avoids your gaze too.

the game didn't last much longer, within thirty minutes everyone was loaded on the buses to head back to their campuses. as ellie’s team waited for a few more people to show up on the bus, she sat in her seat to go home, wanting to desperately just forget this whole day so far despite her team ending up winning – just without her. the panging feeling of her bladder became too strong to ignore anymore and the bus ride back was over an hour. as her team celebrated from the seats, she snuck by and off the bus back into the building where they had just played.

she practically ran down the hallways to the nearest bathroom, pushing the door open and going straight to relieve herself. she heard someone in the stall beside her, it didn’t bother her until she was washing her hands and you came out of the stall. you stared at her in the mirror while approaching the sink next to her, remaining quiet.

you were wearing a large gray hoodie, similar to one that ellie has tucked in her closet somewhere. your hoodie came down below your shorts, hiding them. ellie felt strange seeing you this way, your usual hard exterior being present in your uniform. but looking at you now, all comfortable and sleepy, ellie felt a pang in her chest and before she could stop herself her mouth opened.

“sorry ‘bout that.” she spoke calmly, even though her stomach was turning over inside of her. you glanced at her, her usual black shirt replaced with a gray windbreaker and black sweatpants though her hair remained in the same half up half down style, her demeanor felt different but with your team losing, especially since you couldn’t even do anything, you were still angry.

“sure,” was all you said in response, turning back to the sink to finish washing your hands. ellies expression hardened, her arms crossing over her chest.

“really? you can’t just accept my apology?” her voice raised in defense, pivoting her body towards you.

“i don’t wanna,” you said, keeping your gaze on your hands in the sink, over washing your hands by a mile.

ellie shoved your shoulder, not hard but enough to make you look at her. “fuck you, dude!”

you shoved her back, your face growing hot because of her yet again. “no, fuck you, dude!” you mocked, your patience going thin and your heartbeat rising in your chest, heaving you pointed a finger in her face, continuing your rant. “you’re too fucking competitive.”

ellie scoffs and reaches up to grab your hand, lowering it down between you two. her breathing was getting aggressive with her anger, she moved her face closer to yours, not letting go of you. “me? have you met you!” she all but shouted in your face. you noticed just how close she was to you, breathing heavy and a daring look in her eyes. butterflies erupted in your stomach instantly, feeling so much anger towards the girl in front of you it felt overwhelming but this time you felt it between your legs. ellie could see your chest pounding up and down with force and in a weak moment she glanced at your lips.

when her eyes darted back to yours she found them bouncing between her eyes and parted lips. without thinking she quickly let go of your hands and brought them up to your face, pulling you into a deep, messy kiss.

the kiss intensified as your hands found her hair in a frenzy and you both exhaled through your noses loudly. ellies hands left your face, wrapping around your back to pull you against her. your body smashed into hers as she parted your lips with her tongue, slipping it in roughly. for a reason unbeknownst to you, you rolled your body on hers and ellie grunted into your mouth, though it sounded like she was stifling a moan.

she pushed your back to the wall, her tongue still flicking around your mouth furiously. her hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your sweatshirt. her warm hands planted themselves firmly around your figure as your fingers still danced in her hair. ellie bit your bottom lip softly, resulting in a moan escaping from your mouth and she gripped down on your skin.

the sound of the traditional goodbye honks from the buses separated the two of you fast. you looked to ellie with an unreadable expression who forced her eyes to be anywhere but on you. the realization slowly hit you and you jump past her. ellie turns her body, watching you run out of the bathroom and into the hallway. it only came to her then that the buses were leaving and she cursed before running after you.

you exited the main doors, throwing them open and not bothering to hold them for ellie who smashed through them only a few seconds after you. ellie came up beside you, panting from all the exertion and watched as the buses turned onto the street, leaving the both of you alone. “all my stuff is in my seat, fuck!” ellie remarked, her voice rising ever so slightly.

you sigh beside her, your tone filled with anger, “me fucking too.”

part two

#ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #modern!ellie #ellie williams enemies to lovers #ellie williams fanfiction

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kennedysbaby · 5 days

Text

“not bad.”

wc: 2.0k

pairings: di! leon kennedy x fem! agent! reader

synopsis: in the midst of a casual training session, leon accidentally throws a miscalculated punch, resulting in him needing to make it up to you, his favorite rookie.

warnings: age gap (leon is thirty-eight, reader is twenty-three). kind of inappropriate work relationship. mentor/protege turned lovers-ish? mild sexual content. leon riding his motorcycle without a helmet because he thinks he's too hot to (real).

author's note: i'm tired of pretending death island leon isn't the hottest leon. twink death dilf birth fr. also not my best work, i kind of just threw this up and wrote it in the span of two hours. i’m not too proud of it honestly.

even after long and strenuous missions, leon didn't care if you were beyond exhausted; as long as you came back relatively unscathed, you were required to show up to work the next morning. which, whatever, that was fair. it would be a little nice to catch up on some well-deserved sleep, though. the worst part is, it wasn't only mission reports that you were expected to complete—it was training, too.

sure, you might've had a teensy bit of a crush on your mentor, but this never failed to piss you off, even if he looked so good.

in the dimly lit training room, the air was thick with the faint scent of sweat and determination as you and leon squared off. you stood before the older man, a fierce glint glazed over your eyes, while leon maintained a more relaxed stance, his more experienced gaze assessing your every move.

"let's see what you've still got in you after last week's shitshow." leon teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

you shot back, "bring it on, old man," a playful glimmer danced in your eyes as you readied yourself for the impending clash.

"old man?" leon feigned offense, scoffing in disbelief. "i haven't even hit forty yet. you're just cruel."

you clenched your fists with a shit-eating grin, lunging forward and throwing a flurry of messy punches that leon expertly dodged—which only wiped away your smirk in an instant. your movements were fluid, visually pleasing from afar. circling one another, you searched for an opening, reaching forward with a swift jab, that he deftly sidestepped, countering with a quick jab of his own that grazed your cheek.

you grimaced from the pain, to which he responded with, "nice try sweetheart, but you'll have to be quicker than that," leon taunted, his voice laced with clear amusement. "i taught you better than this, babe."

sweetheart. babe. blush spread across your cheeks, and not from the back-and-forth punches and kicks. leon was fifteen years your senior, but unfortunately, he was also unbelievably hot—you felt so guilty for even having feelings for him in the first place.

leon was ruggishly handsome, with long-ish dark brown hair that framed his face, and broad shoulders that made him look like he gave good hugs. plus, he rode motorcycles—that he occasionally crashed—and owned this alluring charm to him that you just couldn't help but fall for. your "little" crush had gotten so inconsolable, you started laughing at his awful dad jokes.

nonetheless, you two had established a sweet relationship built on witty banter and pretentiously deep conversations. one reassuring shoulder pat and charming smile from him and all your pre-existing daddy issues withered away into nothing.

"oh please, i can hear your joints cracking from here," you grinned, determination coursing through your veins as you launched back into a flurry of punches and kicks, each one dismally met with leon's skillful evasion or expertly timed blocks.

banter flowed effortlessly between you two, subtly flirtatious comments sprinkled amongst them—a mixture of teasing jabs and genuine encouragement that only served to heighten the unspoken tension.

your fellow agents on leon's team were well-aware of the evident favoritism shown towards you. unbeknownst to them, you heard their little snide comments they'd whisper whenever you breathed near your mentor. he probably fucks her, they'd say, she probably blows him. it was disgusting, and quite frankly, sexist, but you did your best to ignore them.

though, sometimes you wished they were true.

as the minutes stretched on, the intensity of your little sparring session only seemed to grow, the air thick was anticipation as you pushed each other to the limit. but, in the heat of the moment, a lapse in leon's concentration led to very dirty move.

with lightning-fast movement, he threw a hard punch that was meant to be deflected harmlessly, but instead, landed with a sickening thud against your side. you gasped, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs as you stumbled backward, pain etched across your pretty features.

in an instant, leon's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by genuine concern as he rushed over to you, his rough hands hovering uncertainly over your trembling form.

"shit, sweetheart, i'm sorry," his smooth voice was thick with regret as his fingers tentatively slid your white tank top up. his cold blue eyes narrowed as the pad of his thumb gently brushed over the wound, frowning at the newly forming bruise tainting your skin like mold.

you winced at the contact, but you definitely weren't complaining. a reassuring smile graced your lips as your strained eyes met his worried gaze. "it's okay," you murmured, "it was an accident."

leon's lips parted slightly, as if restraining himself, before chuckling softly, "let me make it up to you," his eyes flitted upwards, landing upon your own—it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. he guided you towards the nearby bench, settling himself right next to you, his free hand strategically placed on your thigh.

i've got to use this to my advantage, you thought to yourself, before replying, "okay…how about dinner tonight?" your voice was still a little stiff, clearly still reeling back from the uncalled for punch. "i think i deserve it after putting up with your weird no-breaks-after-missions rule."

leon wasn't an idiot. of all the things you could've asked for…dinner? he knew you weren't a goody two shoes just for the sake of it. your longing glances weren't left unnoticed, the fiddling around with the hem of your skirt, your inability to hold eye contact for more than two seconds. it was glaringly obvious. he found it endearing, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't have a soft spot for you.

you really were a pretty little thing. and leon was only human.

"dinner?" he repeated, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "that's the best you could come up with?"

you nodded, smiling as if you hadn't just had your shit rocked. leon swallowed hard, knowing damn well he couldn't turn you down. not that he really had a choice at this point.

…

after what was seemingly an innocent dinner together, they found themselves engrossed in a long anticipated kiss, standing right by his motorcycle that he surprisingly hadn't crashed. it felt so right, so perfect, like fate had written this for them, despite all odds...

"i had fun tonight," you said, looking up into his icy blue eyes, standing a few inches away from each other. your dress fell mid-thigh, tight around all the right places.

leon felt like a creep just staring at how pretty you were. he was having an awfully hard time reminding himself that you were his protege, his subordinate. this was insanely inappropriate. but if his intuition was correct, then you definitely wouldn't mind if he made a move.

the air was laced with anticipation and unspoken desire as he looked back down at your pretty face, eyes lingering on your lipstick coated lips. leon brought his calloused hands up, and cupped your soft cheeks, his touch gentle yet electrifying.

"i'm glad you did, pretty girl," an amused look crossed over his features as he took notice of your cheeks that were burning up from his touch.

with a shared understanding, leon closed the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours and meeting in a fervent kiss, igniting something strong within you. throughout the night, your inhibitions had slowly but surely disappeared, evolving into this.

his lips were warm against yours, his kiss both tender and possessive as he deepened the embrace, his hands roaming freely over your body, grasping at whatever he could. luckily, the parking lot was for the most part vacant, so leon took advantage of that. he didn't know what he was drunk on, but the fact that this was inappropriate had completely slipped his mind—right now, he wasn't your mentor, and he wasn't fifteen years older than you. what could go wrong? besides, it wasn't like the dso would let go of one of its founders.

you sighed into the kiss, surrendering yourself completely to the intoxicating rush that coursed hotly through your blood. leon pulled you closer, his fingers now tangled in your hair as he slipped his tongue between your lips, eliciting a content groan from you. you pressed your body against his, backing up against the cool metal of his motorcycle. his lips meshed into yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

leon really had been holding back this entire time.

you responded in kind, fingers desperately grasping onto his back, holding on for support. the cool night winds had both of your hair blowing softly, simultaneously sending a chill down your spine. but the heat of the moment was enough to keep you warm.

time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading away until there was only you two, bound together by an unbreakable thread of desire and longing. as the kiss only escalated, your aching need for him was only reaching dizzying heights, knowing damn well that you'd never forget this moment. a testament to your intense desire for the man you knew you couldn't have.

when you finally pulled apart, both of your breaths were ragged and hearts were racing. you shared a knowing smile with him, the feeling sending a pleasant rush through you.

"i think it's safe to say i've made it up to you," leon whispered, his voice husky with lust as he pressed his forehead against yours. "don't you think?"

you chuckled softly, eyes sparkling with affection as you traced the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "i couldn't agree more," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

his hand smoothed up your dress, feeling the area he'd accidentally punched earlier, a frown creasing onto his lips, "you holding up okay, by the way?" he asked concernedly, eyes flickering with worry once again.

"mhm, don't worry about it." you replied, grimacing a bit as he applied a bit of pressure on.

"good, good. you're a tough girl, i knew you'd take it like a champ." leon lightened the mood a bit, laughing lightly to ease his nerves.

"y'know, there's something else i'd take like a champ—" you had to cut yourself off, surprised that you'd let something like that roll off your tongue like it was nothing in front of someone who was technically your boss.

to your surprise, leon only shut his eyes, shaking his head in utter disbelief as he laughed a little harder. but he really wanted to test that theory. "you're really something, sweetheart." his chuckle alone sent shivers down your spine.

and with that, you rode off into the night, heading straight for his apartment. you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, holding on for dear life as he sped off on the vacant highway. neither of you cared about the consequences of your actions, or how you'd be proving your teammates right. that would be a problem for tomorrow.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy oneshot #resident evil death island #di leon #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #live laugh dilf leon #not kidding when i say i need bro NOW #death island leon #older leon kennedy

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arcielee · 9 months

Text

Only if for a night.

Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3750 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving, m implied), fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: This was a request from my darling anon! This idea literally had me obsessed until I completed it, so please don't think this is the bar for my response time. 😂 Also, a big thank you to my kindred spirits who answered my v. important questions about Aegon's booty! (You know who you are and Ily 💜) Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Update: This story has a pick your own ending. And you told me I should concentrate. [Aegon x you] But you came over me like some holy rite. [Aemond x you] Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

You felt numb from the sight: seeing your husband on his knees and feasting between the plush thighs of the queen.

It formed a knot that choked you, but it did not stem from a lover’s jealousy–as you knew that you did not love Aemond and he, certainly, did not love you. You always knew your marriage was one of honor and duty, to solidify victory, a peace offering postwar.

You came from a house that was reputable and wealthy, bringing a sizable force to ensure that King Aegon II would remain on the Iron Throne. Your father boasted of marrying his only daughter into the Targaryen dynasty and you felt fortunate to be given a handsome husband, despite his scarred socket.

Prince Aemond already had a fierce reputation that preceded before you met; your ladies-in-waiting tittered over his disfigurement, his sense of bloodlust, and their hushed whispers of kinslayer that haunted him still despite that the kingly decree his actions were that of a true dragon. He was a renowned veteran of the war that was won, that instilled his brother as king without question, and in return he remained prominent on the council, serving still as the Protector of the Realm.

You were shy, intimidated even, when you first saw the severity that lined his features, the unabashed gaze with his sapphire stone that replaced the eye lost, but you decided he was handsome in a way that was uniquely his own. You also found Aemond was respectful and kind, that he was intelligent, he was considerate, and you sighed your relief, knowing all too often how ladies would be knitted to cruel lords.

For your bedding ceremony, the only glimpse of the dragon that thrummed beneath was how Aemond barked to dismiss the maesters, the Lord Hand, allowing you both privacy to complete the act. He seemed well aware of the discomfort a maiden could feel and treated you with the utmost courtesy, mindful of your sighs, your soft sounds to completion.

He was dutiful and he was diligent. It was not love at first sight, not like the stories told; there was no fluttering of butterfly wings throughout nor did your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, but you enjoyed his company, his consistency, and his consideration.

In all, it was a formidable match and you were certain the marriage would be a success.

Especially once you produced a silver haired royal babe.

Which is why you were freshly bathed and dressed in silk, just the quiet echoes of your slippered footfalls against the cobblestone that led towards your lord husband’s quarters. You thought yourself fortunate no white cloak was perched outside his door, and you pressed close to listen before you carefully turned the gilded handle of the door.

The room was cast in the amber glow from the hearth and tapers lit, and it was the lewd sounds that first caught your attention. You were rooted in the doorcase, your eyelashes fluttered at the view in front of you.

Aemond was bare from the waist up, the peaks of the silver scars peering through his silver hair, and he was kneeled before the velvet settee at the end of his bed. You watched the muscled definition of his backside, the golden glow of the fireplace highlighting his bareness, as well as the elegant arc of a calf that was draped casually over his shoulder.

Your eyes followed the milky curve of this limb to look over his shoulder and see the flushed features of Helaena. She was seated on the settee, her laces loosened which allowed the natural spill of her chest, with the peak of her areolas and the rose hues that stained the skin showing. Her skirts were rutted around her hips, the fabric spilling around, and her eyelashes fluttered with a silver glimmer, her head rolling back with a wave of her silver tresses. A smile curled on her kiss-swollen lips and there was a shudder of her pleasure that rippled viscerally over, her fingers curling against his scalp with the breathless whisper.

“Aemond.”

The humiliation was hot in your veins and burned your cheeks; you willed yourself to move, but your eyes were rapt to attention, watching the frantic rise and fall of Helaena’s chest, her nipples pebbled, and the spilled moans from her mouth.

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

You left as quietly as you entered; your steps were soft, quick to take you back, with one hand lifting the silk of your chemise and the other wiping the tears that began to spill.

We were not in love, you remind yourself, but it still pinched a nerve within your chest. He was still your husband and you were duty bound to bore him a child, a son if the Lord Hand could choose. The act itself was not unpleasant, but Aemond had never…

Your thoughts were interrupted with a singsong call of your name; you were quick to wipe your face before turning to see the king.

“Your grace,” you offered him a feeble curtsy and even weaker smile.

Aegon moved with a grace, a sway to his steps; his brow furrowed above his wide, lilac eyes, and there was a genuineness to his question. “Sweet sister, it is late, what has you out of bed?”

Before you had been sent to King’s Landing, your mother warned you of his behaviors; you were also told the tale of how the newly anointed Lord Commander and your lord husband had to drag Aegon from the streets of Flea Bottom and place him on the Iron Throne.

But this notoriety of his youth seemed to dissipate with the placement of the Conqueror’s crown he now wore proudly on his silver waves. It seemed to kindle the royal ichor in his veins, and he moved with an elegance as he pressed closer, peering at you with his continued concern.

“I… I was feeling unwell and thought that I would go for a walk,” you chose your words carefully, trying to mask the threat of emotion that brimmed beneath.

His brow quirked. “Alone?”

You swallowed. In this moment, you wished to slip away, to return to your rooms and drown in your sorrow, your failures as a wife in light of learning your new husband’s infidelities, your self-loathing for craving the passion Aemond displayed, wishing it to be shown towards you instead…

The silence hung thick, too long for his liking, and Aegon reached to take your hand, placing it into the crook of his arm. “It is late,” he repeated. “If you are unwell, allow me to escort you back to your quarters.”

You fell in step, peering at him. Aegon was handsome, as your supposed all Targaryen men seemed to be; your eyes admired his silver tresses that curled at his shoulders, that showed golden with the lights that lined the corridor, casting a gold ring that reflected in the lilac of his eyes that flitted over you; his lips were rosy, an upwards curl when he noticed your stare. “You seem so solemn tonight,” he tried again.

The proximity allowed you to smell the long day on him, mixing with the scents of lavender and tea tree oils, a regal musk that called to you to nestle your head against his chest and cry. “It is only that I am feeling unwell,” is what you said instead.

His eyes were wide and watchful, but he did not argue and instead allowed the silence to envelope as he walked with you. Before you could wish him goodnight, he pushed into your room, ordering your handmaidens to fetch something to eat, as well as red wine to help settle your stomach.

They jumped with his command, quick to listen, and soon enough you were sitting on the terrace that overlooked the coast of Blackwater Bay, holding a goblet that brimmed with a Dornish wine that stained your lips with each polite sip. Aegon sat across from you, a boyish grin as he dismissed your handmaidens for the night, before reaching to break the bread for you both.

The silence followed from the corridor, settling over in a way that was not at all uncomfortable; you peered again at Aegon, a choked cry in your throat as you watched him take care to slice the cheeses and the olives for the bread, before offering it to you.

It was a simple, sweet gesture and you chewed, forcing down the bite with the wine. Whereas conversation had to be dragged from your husband, you found his brother’s tongue would not idle; perhaps it loosened from the wine, but it was not a mindless filler in a way that words are used as though silence were a threat, but you found Aegon to be cheerful, witty, as he shared stories from his youth.

Aegon glowned from his narration, from the silver light that poured over; the night sky was empty with the clouds rolling over the black water, the air cool and salty. Your cheeks were rosy from your drink and your laughter, and when your cup emptied, he was quick to refill it.

He pressed for your turn and you shared about your life before coming to King’s Landing. Aegon was an attentive listener, with sighs punctuating; you looked to see that his cheeks were pink from the wine and the wind, a curl returning to his lips. “My brother is fortunate to have such a pretty and witty wife.”

Those words were the unknown catalyst broken; you did not sob your sorrow but instead there were large tears that rolled down your cheeks. You did not realize you were shaking until you felt his fingers, his touch warm, soft, wrapping gently around your wrist. You allowed him to pull you from your seat, towards him–now standing–and enveloping you into his arms for a moment before he sat back down, pulling you onto his lap.

Your mannerly upbringing roared in your ears, this was wrong, this was improper, to be pulled into an unchaperoned embrace of your husband’s brother–the fucking king of the Seven Realms. But instead you curled against his chest, that regal musk soothing, his warmth pleasant against the nip of the air. You indulged in his comfort–his palm rubbing slow circles along your spine, his other arm across your lap, his hand gripping into your thigh.

His touch grounded you, allowing you to compose yourself and share with him what you had found in Aemond’s quarters, making sure to elicit a detail that Aegon freely supplied.

“He was with Helaena, right?”

You looked at him. “You knew?” Your voice cracked, incredulous.

Aegon only hummed, continuing his soothing ministrations, his hand rubbing your backside. “I thought you did as well,” he admitted. “Our status within the Seven Realms… requires certain duties to be fulfilled. We are honorbound to these obligations, to ensure peace amongst the kingdoms. But it is just a role to be played for the public.”

You knew this in part already; you were always aware of the duty of your marriage, the child that you were expected to bring into the world. But still, the truth spoken brought a new wave of tears that he consoled. Your body burned with his touch, his finger curling and his thumb pressing into your chin to bring your watery eyes to his own. “Is it that you love him?” He asked with a curiosity that could not be helped, in light of your reaction.

You did not, and would never, certainly not after this night. The tears that spilled came from something deeper, something that licked your belly when your eyes lingered in Aemond’s room, and your voice quavered, hiccupping to explain this.

Aegon had an almost kingly glow in the moonlight, with its silver light reflecting in the stubble that spread across his square jaw, framing the mischievous grin that curled on his wine stained lips. “Is your husband,” he speaks of him like he is apart from Aemond, not knitted within the same womb, with the same dragon’s blood thrumming in his veins, “not fulfilling his marital duties?”

You stammered with your response. This was not what you meant, as Aemond was courteous to his completion, but it was never like what you spied tonight. You flushed remembering the shades of pink that plumed against Helaena’s porcelain skin, how her back arched with her cries, his name a fervent prayer spilling from kiss-swollen lips…

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

Aegon’s timbre brings you back out to the terrace, with his continued soft circles on the outside of your thigh. “You would know if he had,” he spoke so casually, almost flippant with the subject.

How would you know? And you regret your question, your naivety apparent with your words.

The same mischievous smirk returned to his lips, and as the moonglow spilled over him something glimmered, something knowing from how his brow quirked with your question. Aegon tilted his head up slightly, his lips now close to the soft divot beneath your ear, grazing your skin with his whisper, “I could show you.”

Your lips part in shock, your eyes wide to look him over and see the flush of color that stained his cheeks, the wine that stained his lips.

And you dared to kiss him.

Your lips are shy to touch, almost chaste with your action, but Aegon responds, quick, his fingers curling at the base of your neck and his other coming around your waist. His lips are full, soft, warm with the hint of the sweet wine to taste when his tongue runs your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue clever, careful, as he drew the very breath from your lungs.

The spill of silk showed your shoulder and you gasped softly when he broke away, his mouth ravenous to capture the skin now exposed, with a wake of love bites from his open mouth kisses, and a warmth began to bloom within you. You touched his chest with a gentle push to stand and he lets go, his lilac eyes wide and wanting; your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull him to stand, boldly leading him within your chambers.

Aegon stopped you in the archway, and you turned to see the smile on his lips as he pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs and his hands trailing your curves, settling and gripping onto your hip bones. His mouth captured yours once again, and your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer.

You almost whined when he stopped the kiss, his eyes glassy and their color swallowed by pools of black. “My brother is an idiot,” is all he said.

Before you could breathe a response, he pulled you into the room and back against his mouth, moving with the flutter of kisses along your jawline, nipping into the curve of your neck. His palms are still on the small of your waist, with guiding steps back towards the bed.

Clothes are removed with a passion, leaving a trail behind. “Lay back,” he coaxed, his hands warm against your bareness, careful to press until you laid against the mattress. Aegon followed after, climbing on top of you to meet with another kiss, with his sweet murmur, “Let me show you.”

It is a tickling sensation, the mixture of his stubble with the softness of his lips against the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest. Gooseflesh rippled over, your nipples peaking from the warmth of his touch; his palm cups one breast while his hot mouth latches to the other, teeth and tongue teasing.

You squirmed beneath him; his chuckle was low and warm against the valley between your breasts, from shifting his focus from one to the other. “So impatient,” and his hot kiss sends shivers down your spine, with an intensity that you know will mark you.

You shivered again with that thought.

This reaction encouraged a tensity shown to your nipples, his tongue swirled and another crest of pleasure rippled over, your hand moving to cover your mouth to muffle. Again, his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling your arm down to your side and pushing up to find your lips. “None of the that,” and his lips curled into an almost wicked smile, “your king wishes to hear you.”

Satisfied with the crimson that flooded your cheeks, Aegon moved towards your core with sporadic kisses trailing, a warm tickle of his exhale as he nestled between your thighs.

Your heart fluttered with the intimate kiss he placed, something that sparked a warmth that began to spread out towards the apex of your thighs and beyond. Your hips buck slightly from the sensation and you can feel him grin against your cunt.

“So eager,” he breathed, a warm thrill against your slick slit, his tongue flitting with a precision that had you panting. “Yes, just like that,” he praised, his fingers now pressing within your velvet walls and stretching as one curled within, then another.

His mouth, his touch was practiced, pulling something to blossom within the pit of your stomach, a fluttering sensation that built with the tandem of his fingers and his tongue.

You gasped, peering to see the top of his head, the spill of his silver waves as he moved, ravenous, determined. You writhed, a pitiful mewling sound, and his one hand moved to curl underneath your thigh, holding you in place with his continued sinful motion, your arousal spilling onto the bedsheets.

It was too much, and you whimpered, “A-Aegon,” as your hands balled to grip the linen.

“Just like that,” he purred against, his rhythm building still, a pressure threatening to burst within you. “Come for me, sweet girl.”

It engulfs you as though you had been dropped into Blackwater Bay, a rush that spilled with the come hither curl of his fingers, pressing his lips against the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You see the stars when your eyes flutter closed, the spill of tears that pearled in the corners of your eyes, your chest heaving to catch your breath and your thighs trembling.

His praise was low, husky. “You are so beautiful like this.”

You slowly propped yourself onto your elbows, flushed, and reached towards him, but he stopped your hand. “Next time,” Aegon promised with a cheeky grin.

You are flushed from his actions, from his words, your heart rate picking up again as Aegon climbed on top of you, nestling into the cradle of your hips. His expression was smug, his lips and chin slick, and you kissed him, hungry for him, curious of your own taste; you enjoyed the salty sweetness from the Dornish wine that mixed. His hand dipped between, lining himself with your entrance, and you sighed into his mouth.

Aegon has girth, a thickness to him that stretches your walls. You gasp, then another whine that spilled as he pushed to sheath fully within you; Aegon swallowed your cries with his kisses, his hips still to allow you to adjust to his size, checking before he began his slow rut against your hips.

You pant against his chest, your fingers digging into the twin divots on his lower back as he filled you with each thrust, a bruising pace that began to spark in front of your eyes. You cling to him with a desperation, still sensitive from your first release and flustered from the touch of his bare skin against your own.

There is the sudden emptiness when he pulled away, positioning himself on his knees, his palms wrapping around your ankles and pulling to place your feet against his chest; your hips cant up, allowing him to be swallowed by your warmth again, a guttural groan that reverberates through when you clenched.

This new angle sparked another cry, lights dancing across your eyes with his pace; he was grinning down at you, pausing to turn his head with a quick kiss to the arc of your foot, and you giggled.

His large hands moved to press onto the mattress, caging you, and he rolled his hips against your own; the wet squelch with your soft cry as he bruised within. You mewled his name when his pace quickened, pistoning his hips against.

There was the returned flutter of pleasure and Aegon lifted one hand. “Open,” and you obey, your tongue touching the pad of his thumb, swirling to coat it with your saliva. When he pulled back, a bit of spittle broke off onto your chin, and his hand dipped to press against the bloom above, his touch soft, searching.

Yours cries are unbridled at the touch of your pearl, and his satisfaction was apparent on his flushed features, his hips finding a new pace with his new ministrations. Your muscles tightened in response, your back arching against, and it comes, a tidal wave, an intensity that shudders throughout, rattling your bones beneath.

Aegon continued through your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy to chase after his own release before melting against you, with a low groan into the junction of your neck that rumbled pleasantly through you.

You both lay there in an intimate tangle of bare limbs until your breathing evened. Aegon rolled onto his side and reached to touch your hip, his lilac eyes roaming over you, admiring you. “Beautiful,” he declared, then leaned closer for a gentle kiss.

You giggled again, pulling away to clean up. Aegon allowed it, but was adamant that you remained bare, pulling you back to bed after and curling up against, his face nuzzling into your neck; your skin rose in response.

“For duty, for honor,” he murmured, moving to pull you until your head rested on his chest; his soothing scent and musk of sex now clung to the linen. “A silver haired child all the same,” and he kissed your hairline with his confession. “The twins, Maegor, I am not even certain they are mine or not, but I love them nonetheless.”

“The blood of the dragon,” you whispered, tilting your head back and allowing him to kiss you once again.

You felt a new satisfaction, a new understanding of your role within the Targaryen dynasty. The thought warmed you, I love them nonetheless, as you nestled against his chest, allowing the rise and fall to lull you to sleep.

arcie's masterlist

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x you #aegon x reader #this was also inspired by the tag #aemond aemond aemond #only if for a night #update 9/27

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floralcyanidee · 8 months

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ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘs, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘs, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘsᴇ - ᴄɪʟʟɪᴀɴ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ

Young!Cillian Murphy x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

A night over at your best friend, Cillian's, leads to something more than friendship but something less than romance. Will you ever tell him how you feel, or will you always just be friends with benefits?

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, cock warming, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, mentions of choking, love confessions

word count: 4409

author’s note: I'm shadowbanned on my main account everyone please clap (not for nsfw, I was flagged for spam yay) so I'll be posting on this shiny new blog, ao3, and wattpad for the time being. (those are both linked on my masterpost) hopefully I'll be unbanned soon because I've had my main tumblr for a decade and it has 2.5k followers on it and I'll fr cry my eyes out if I can't get unbanned!!! anyway please enjoy this!! I wrote a good chunk of this while at work this week. the horny really unleashes in the second part haha. please leave feedback if you enjoy! <3

PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG. BUT ALSO, DO NOT UNFOLLOW MY MAIN BLOG!

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

Cillian’s lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath hitting your face. His eyelashes almost touch your cheeks, and his nose is beside yours, barely brushing against it.

“I want you so bad,” Cillian whispers, his hands finding your hips.

You have been friends since the 90s when Cillian first arrived in Hollywood, stumbling upon you at a local bar where you worked. Ever since, you’ve both been the best of friends. But tonight, that’s being challenged. The lights in Cillian’s place are dimmed, candles are lit, and wine is flowing through the two of you. Having a bit to drink in a comfortable setting isn’t out of the norm, but for some reason, tensions were high tonight. You could almost cut it with a knife. Everything about him is more mesmerizing tonight- his eyes, his freckles, the way he smiles. You needed him, and apparently, he needed you too.

“Then have me,” you mutter against Cillian’s lips.

He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head slightly, “I don’t want to ruin us.”

“You won’t,” you look down at his lips- they’re so close to yours that you can feel them move whenever he speaks.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you breathe, grabbing hold of Cillian’s face as he finally puts his mouth on yours.

The kiss immediately becomes hungry, your teeth nearly clashing together as Cillian slips his tongue around yours. He’s gripping your hips fiercely, and his sideburns press pleasantly into your palms as you hold his head steady. Cillian pulls you onto his lap from your sitting position on the couch next to him, seating you firmly on his thighs. Your fingers find his hair, tugging it slightly as a small whimper vibrates in Cillian’s throat. The sound spurs you on, and you take over the kiss, dominating his tongue with yours. You explore his mouth and suck on his tongue harshly, pulling away from the embrace to catch your breath.

“Fuck,” Cillian curses, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re good at this.”

You scoff, putting both your hands on his cheeks as you trace your thumb along his sharp cheekbones, “And to think you would’ve never known.”

“Not necessarily,” Cillian looks you in the eyes, “I would’ve gotten you one way or another.”

“Then why have you waited so long, then? Hmm?” you ask.

“I value our friendship,” Cillian admits.

“I do, too, Cill. But god, if I had known you were so good at kissing, I would’ve done it ages ago,” you smirk, running your finger across his bottom lip.

His eyes follow your movements before they flick up to yours, darkening, “I’m not just good at that.”

His words shoot straight to your lower belly, warmth spreading through you, “Is that right?”

“Mhmm,” Cillian pulls you closer to his chest, your core settling right on his.

“Show me.”

Cillian attacks your lips again, this time biting down on your lower lip and rolling it between his teeth. You watch his face as he does it, his icy eyes becoming a darker shade of blue. His hand moves from your hip to your hair, his fingers sliding through your locks before they tighten, pulling your head backward to expose your neck. Cillian leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he bites at the skin, leaving a small bruise to form below your jaw. You squirm slightly at the feeling of his teeth pressing into your skin, dangerously close to breaking its surface. Cillian then kisses your collarbones, stopping when he reaches the neck of your shirt, well, his shirt. You always took from his wardrobe, whether it was a beanie, t-shirt, or hoodie that he forgot he had. He slides his hand from your hip to underneath the shirt, pressing his palm to your feverish skin and pushing it up slowly until he reaches your breast.

“No bra?” Cillian asks, surprised.

“I never wear a bra when I’m over here,” you admit, “I’m surprised you’ve never noticed.”

“I’m glad I never noticed, or else I’d be underneath your shirt constantly,” Cillian pulls his hand from your hair to move it under the shirt along with the other.

“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” you giggle, but it’s cut off by a quiet moan when Cillian grasps your breasts.

Cillian brushes his thumbs over your nipples, circling the buds as they harden under his touch. You hum, letting your head fall back at the sensation. Cillian pushes the shirt up and over your chest, and you help him pull it all the way off, tossing it somewhere in the living room. Immediately, Cillian latches onto one of your nipples, toying with the other one with his fingers. Electricity shoots to your still-clothed core, and you know that Cillian can feel you beginning to throb through your thin shorts. His playing with your breasts could get you off alone; his touch is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s sometimes sensual and soft and rough and firm when needed. Cillian grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud, pulling it toward him as you let out a yelp. You involuntarily bare down on his lap and feel him growing harder underneath you. He lands a slap to your breast, and you gasp, hands going to grip his biceps to ground yourself.

“I can feel you getting excited,” Cillian teases, raising his hips a little to let all your weight sit on him momentarily.

“What are you gonna do about it, then?” you stifle a moan at his bulge pressing into your clit harshly.

Cillian pushes you off his lap and onto the couch, where he spreads your legs and yanks your shorts down your thighs, discarding them wherever the shirt also previously went. He pulls your calves onto his shoulders, laying on his chest between your thighs. His breath hits your dampened underwear, sending goosebumps across your skin. You bite your lip as Cillian plays with the edges of your underwear right against where you need him most. He toys with the fabric, letting his fingers barely touch you underneath.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Cillian confesses, his intense eyes flickering up to your face.

You feel your cheeks burn, “Me too.”

Cillian smiles his typical beautiful smile, teeth and all, as he pulls your underwear down your legs painfully slow, “I’ve always imagined how wet you’d get just from me teasing you.”

You bite back a whimper as he removes your underwear from your legs, letting them fall to the floor.

“You’d get soaked from me playing with your pussy, rubbing your clit slowly, and eating you out until you cry,” Cillian lets his filthy words fall from his lips as you shiver from them, wanting to close your legs subconsciously.

But they were perched on Cillian’s shoulders, and he was about to go in for the kill. He kneads your thigh before pushing it to the side, letting it drape off the edge of the couch and opening you up further to him. Cillian’s fingers brush against your hardening clit like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, making you tremble as you grunt from the sensual feeling.

“Please,” you sigh, your hips jerking up when Cillian pulls his hand away.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me, Cill. God, I need you to touch me.”

Cillian strokes your entrance with his index finger, gathering your wetness before dragging it up to your clit. He circles the bundle of nerves slowly, making you whine above him.

“So wet already,” Cillian moans, “You’re so beautiful.”

You throw your head back against the arm of the couch when Cillian finally replaces his finger with the tip of his tongue, going around and around the sensitive bud, never coming directly in contact with it. He changes his mind about that and starts to lap at your clit, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers travel back to your now-dripping entrance. Cillian hums in satisfaction at the feeling of your arousal seeping out of you at his expense. He flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe up your slit before swirling his tongue around your clit, his tongue still flat and giving your entire bundle of nerves attention. Cillian probes you with a single finger, pushing it in as you moan his name. He pumps it in and out of you, curling it against your g spot with every thrust. He adds a second finger, and the sound of your wetness grows louder, mixing with your breathy moans and Cillian’s pants.

“Say my name again,” Cillian bites his lip, watching as his soaked fingers move in and out of you.

“Cillian,” you whine, moving your hips along with his fingers.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers, darling,” he says, adding a third finger in you.

To say you‘re a mess is an understatement. You need Cillian inside you, as your walls are clenching around his fingers with desperation. You grab his shirt, “Fuck me, please.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Cillian smirks, lifting his shirt off his lean body before standing up to tug his pants and underwear down and off his legs.

Cillian teases your clit with his leaking head before lining himself up with you. He looks at you with an unsure expression, and you nod in response to the unspoken question. He slowly pushes himself into you, your warmth already fluttering around him. Cillian guides himself all the way to his hilt, letting out a throaty groan when he feels his entire length surrounded by your velvety walls. His hands run up and down your abdomen, stopping when he palms over your breasts. They’re still sensitive from the previous activity and your growing arousal, causing you to wriggle when Cillian’s fingers deftly pinch at both your nipples as he slowly pulls himself almost out of you entirely before slamming back into you. You cry out, your hands flying to where his back meets his shoulders, nails digging softly into his flesh. Cillian moans when you clench harshly around him when he tugs at your nipple particularly hard.

“You like these pretty titties to be played with, huh?” Cillian runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure when he pulls at the sensitive skin.

You nod, but he lets go of your breasts, running his hands over your body before his hand snakes between the two of you, rubbing tight circles on your clit. You let out a throaty moan, and Cillian curses under his breath as his hips snap against yours at a steady rhythm.

“Fuuuuck,” you drawl, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your body heaves into the couch from the velocity of Cillian’s perfect cock slamming into you without mercy, “You feel so good inside of me.”

You push Cillian up and off you, shoving him onto the couch behind him. You climb on his lap, throwing your legs over his thighs as you line him back up with your aching cunt. Feeling him stretch you out completely while at a different angle makes you moan uncontrollably as you set a pace, riding Cillian as if your life depended on it. Your ass slaps his hips as he guides them up and down, thrusting into you dead-on. Cillian’s tip hits your cervix flawlessly, and you feel that tightness in your belly.

“Cum inside me, Cillian,” you swivel your hips, “Fill me up and make me yours.”

“Gonna cum around my cock first?” Cillian’s lips are swollen from incessantly biting as he watches you fuck yourself on him.

You decide you’ll milk him for all he’s got and lean down to land a bruising kiss on his lips. Both of you pant into each other’s mouths as you near your peak, reaching underneath you to flick your clit. Cillian grips your ass as you feel yourself unravel, your orgasm ripping through you. Your walls cave in on CIllian’s length, causing him to reach his own orgasm before he’s ready. He squirms underneath you as you continue to bounce on his cock, coaxing every drop of cum out of him.

“Fuck,” Cillian exhales as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair, looking just as fucked out as you.

You lay down on his chest, him still inside you. He doesn’t bother moving either; the feeling of you still cloaked around him made him dizzy. Cillian is still trying to wrap his head around how this is real. He also is trying to figure out where to go from here. He’s terrified of telling you his true feelings for you, fearing you won’t want to be friends anymore. Obviously, tonight the dynamic has changed from just friendship between the two of you.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you trace shapes into Cillian’s bare chest, peering up at him when he doesn’t answer.

He appears deep in thought.

“Everything okay?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows at the man underneath you.

Cillian nods, his hand finding your hair before stroking it softly, “Just thinking.”

“About?” you rest your chest on his collarbone.

“How much I’d like to do this again,” Cillian says, and you chuckle.

“That can be arranged,” you leave a kiss on his neck, his eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, though,” Cillian says worriedly.

“You haven’t ruined anything. And I’ve had just as much to do with this as you,” you say, putting your finger under Cillian’s chin to look at him directly, “You’re still my best friend.”

“And you’re fine with whatever this is?”

“It’s the best of both worlds,” you shrug with a smile.

Cillian moves to sit up against the couch's armrest still sheathed inside you. And as you start yet another make out session and begin to rock your hips with your walls still hugging his cock, you try not to think. The idea that you must hide your feelings for Cillian even more is hard to wrap your mind around.

But little did you know, he was having the same problem. He tries not to think about it as he thrusts into you sloppily, letting you ride him as you please.

—

“Jesus, shit!”

“God, you’re so fucking drenched. All of this for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, letting out a pornographic moan as one of Cillian’s hands holds your swollen cunt open while the other rubs at it vigorously.

“Just like that-” Cillian moans at the sounds you’re letting out, “Need you to cum on my face, pretty thing.”

You cry out, rocking your hips against Cillian’s merciless hand as it flies across your pussy with no sign of stopping. He pokes out his middle finger to catch your clit with every swipe of his hand. Your orgasm explodes in your stomach, your core gushing cum as Cillian hurries to dip his face down. He latches his mouth onto your cunt, flicking his tongue over your bundle of nerves, causing you to squirt again.

“Fuuuck,” you squeal, your hands gripping Cillian’s hair like a vice.

Cillian can’t get enough. He’s not gonna lie, he thinks he’s absolutely obsessed with making you squirt. He could do it all night and still get off at the sight. Cillian laps at your pussy, spreading his tongue around your folds, stimulating the sensitive area further.

“Cill, I’m gonna cum again,” you warn, but Cillian just keeps his eyes closed as he sneaks two fingers inside you.

His fingertips brush against your g spot and send you over the edge a third time, and Cillian’s nipping at your clit causes you to gush again. You were slightly embarrassed but incredibly turned on by it. And you know Cillian is relishing in it, literally and figuratively. He pulls away from you, a little reluctantly, and wipes his mouth and face with the back of his arm. You grab his face and pull him into you as he collapses on your naked, heaving chest. You stare at Cillian, the light from the side table’s lamp shining into his eyes just right. They’re returning to an arctic blue as his heart rate calms, his pupils going back to normal size. Cillian stares back at you, studying your features just as you are his. Freckles sprinkle Cillian’s cheeks and nose, dotting along his forehead and chin as well. His lips are red and swollen, and he’s sporting a lopsided smile as he looks at you.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, “Literally everything you do, say, and how you look is just flawless. Are you sure you aren’t an angel?” you joke.

A smile spreads upon Cillian’s face as his cheeks tinge pink, the warmth traveling to his ears, “I’m not perfect by any means, and no, I’m not an angel,” he says, his accent thick and raspy from the previous exertion.

“Mmm, I’m not sure about that,” you say as CIllian softly kisses your neck.

God, I love you, you want to say. Because you do; you love him. You always have, but sharing such intimate moments with Cillian has just strengthened the feeling you already had. You’re honestly exhausted but still blissed out from Cillian going absolutely feral on you. You have never squirted before, and if you could, you’d let him make you squirt all night. You’d watch as your arousal covers his pretty face, delighting him much like it did earlier. Cillian looked like a kid in a candy store as you gushed for him.

“I’ve never squirted before, so,” you mutter, covering your face with your hands, “Yeah, I’d consider that angelic.”

“Really?” Cillian asks incredulously, “Never? Not even by yourself?”

“Especially not by myself,” you chuckle, uncovering your face to look at Cillian, “You’re better than any vibrator or dildo I own.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cillian bites your jaw playfully before reaching down and grabbing the duvet, covering the both of you with it.

He rolls off you, much to your dismay. But he immediately pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly with his arms as if you’ll disappear. Cillian slides a leg between yours, his knee pressed against you softly. He rubs his nose against your ear, “Still wet, pretty?”

“Shut up,” you mutter shyly, burying your face in his arms.

“Only if you make me,” Cillian teases you, nipping at your earlobe.

You groan, “Too tired,” you feel Cillian’s hand travel down your navel to gauge how wet you still are, “I don’t think I can move.”

“Who said you had to move?” Cillian asks, pulling your thigh up until your leg is draped over his hip, spreading you open for perfect access.

Before you can ask him to touch you, Cillian lines his length up with your still-needy cunt. You’re surprised you had any remainder of horniness left in you. But there’s something about Cillian that naturally turns you on. You’ve noticed it’s gotten more intense now that he’s your sexual partner. It’s like you can’t get enough of him, and he can’t get enough of you, either. Cillian nudges his tip into you before letting it glide in without a hitch. The way you’re laying makes the angle at which he’s inside of you feel irresistible. You let Cillian play with your still-sensitive clit as his hips snap into your ass. His hot, heavy breath is in your ear as he fucks you slowly. You toss your arm behind you, grabbing the back of Cillian’s neck for leverage as you turn your head around. His lips meet yours hungrily, and he swallows your guttural moans as you fuck yourself on his cock. Cillian’s other hand snakes from underneath you, his fingers wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t press them into your skin but lets them rest there, almost possessively.

You’ve been exploring each other’s bodies ever since the first night you had sex- trying different angles and positions. But you told Cillian that you didn’t want anything rough. That was reserved for a romantic relationship. Cillian felt a twinge of hurt in his chest when you said that, as if you had meant you weren’t planning on a romantic relationship with him specifically. But he understood and respected your boundaries despite his weird sadness about not being able to do certain things with you. Cillian thought it odd because you were not his, so he had no right to hurt you consensually or mark you as his. So, he shouldn’t be so upset about it. Yet he is because he wants you to trust him with everything you have, and he wants to take care of you after the roughness. Cillian wants you to be taken care of. But he knows his limits and that he can’t break the rules of the friends-with-benefits situation. So Cillian doesn’t choke you during sex, or slap you, or kiss you outside the bedroom- especially in public. He bites his tongue every time you do something that melts his heart. He refrains from saying those three little words every day. Cillian has no idea how much you wished he would break the rules just once or how you wished he’d say he loves you.

Something comes over you, though. You reach a hand up and cover Cillian’s that is on your neck and press his fingers into the sides of your throat. You sigh contently as your head becomes cloudy from the lack of blood flow to your head. Cillian stops rubbing your clit and takes your hand from over his, slipping his fingers between yours and pinning it in front of you.

You whimper in detest, and Cillian nips at the skin behind your ear, “Naughty thing. Don’t break your own rules, sweetheart.”

You sigh in defeat, but before you can pout, a moan rips through your chest. Cillian pushed your clave up into your thigh, thus making it easier for him to ram his cock against your cervix in a way that sends stars floating across your vision. Your hand squeezes his as you feel your release creeping up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, watching as Cillian’s length moves in and out of you quickly.

It was erotic yet romantic, him being so close to you and inside you. You and Cillian are now one, but you wish things were different.

“Good,” Cillian kisses the back of your neck, his nose drawing circles in your skin delicately.

You breathe deeply, feeling your stomach clench. You cry out Cillian’s name as you unravel, his fingers pressing to your clit. Your body trembles and shakes as he continues his assault on the bundle of nerves, still chasing after his own high as he keeps thrusting into you. Your back arches, toes curling as another wave of pleasure hits you.

“You’re doing so good, angel,” Cillian praises in your ear, “Taking my cock so well. I’m almost there, just hold on.”

The feeling of Cillian exploding inside you sends you over the edge for the third and final time. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your body convulsing from pleasure. Your pussy clenches around him as he rides out his orgasm, panting in your ear. He almost doesn’t hear you say it. Almost.

“Fuck, I love you,” you whine quietly.

You gasp, immediately realizing what’s slipped from your mouth in a shroud of cloudy pleasure. But you hide your gasp as you catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling sharply. You pray to whatever is out there that Cillian didn’t hear you proclaim your feelings in a vulnerable moment.

Cillian grunts as he pulls out of you, letting your leg go limp and relax back on the bed. He keeps his hand entangled with yours. But you pull your grasp out of his, turning around and facing him. You hurriedly bury your face in his chest so you can’t look at him and see how he’s possibly reacting to your words. Cillian wordlessly wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him. You fight the urge to cry at the silence of the dimly lit room as Cillian tugs the duvet over your sweaty, naked bodies. You try and steady your breath and keep your heart from racing.

“Can you say it again?” Cillian finally asks after several minutes of dead silence.

You lift your head from his chest, looking at him confused, “Say what?”

Cillian looks at you seriously before lifting his hand to touch your face gingerly, “What you said a moment ago.”

“You didn’t hear that, did y-”

“I did. But I want you to say again.”

Tears brim your eyes as you feel heaviness in your chest- will he make fun of you? Did you just ruin everything?

You let out a choked sob, hiding your face in his neck, “I love you. I fucking love you. There, I said it,” you slam your fist against his chest. “Feel free to hate me, but it’s true.”

“I could never hate you, gorgeous,” Cillian pulls away from you, his hands grabbing your cheeks so you’re looking directly at him.

His eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, much like they did the first time you kissed him weeks ago. You blink away your tears, but Cillian wipes them away with his thumbs.

“I love you too,” Cillian confesses, “I love you so much. You know that?”

Your lips tremble as you nod, but Cillian presses his forehead against yours, and you try to ground yourself. He loves you. Cillian loves you back. Cillian kisses your lips gently as if he’d break you. You grasp his hair, kissing him back passionately.

“I love you,” you say, pulling away from his lips and kissing his eyelids instead.

“I love everything about you,” you brush your lips across his cheeks, then kiss his nose, “Your angel kisses. Your beautiful eyes. Everything about you. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re perfect.”

Cillian laughs, and you melt at his smile.

“You,” Cillian says, “Are everything to me. Everything that brings me joy, everything that makes me happy.”

You wrap your arms around Cillian’s neck, pulling him close to you as you tuck your face into his neck.

“Never let go,” Cillian says, his arms snaking around your waist and holding you close.

“I won’t,” you say, a heaviness lifting from your chest at last, “I never will.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr @flwrs4aust @langdons-slut @shynovelist

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x you smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy imagine #young cillian murphy #floralcyanide writes

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riizeblr · 2 months

Note

SM 🤝ugliest boy group light sticks

Why in the world did they make the Riize light stick a finger... Whoever approved of that design should be condemned fr

Oh, and thoughts on bully Sungchan and/or Seunghan who likes to pick on the reader who seems to be hanging out with nerd Wonbin a bit too much recently?

-<3

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: noncon, nonconsensual filming, features sunjeongz. (don't like? don't read!)

seunghan didn't even notice. his face contorted in confusion when sungchan mentioned it. it was a sight that was becoming too familiar. a head of inky black locks, deep laughs, and big eyes framed by thick glasses followed you around with an air of lovestruck desperation.

sungchan quickly found out that it was park wonbin. sungchan seethed knowing that it was park wonbin capturing your attention. it was park wonbin that made the sparkle return to your eyes and the genuine glee in your grin. park wonbin, sungchan's favorite childhood punching bag. the teary-eyed boy with wobbling lips and long strands of soft hair framing his face, glasses crushed beneath seunghan's feet as sungchan stood by and watched, later joining in to have his own fun with sweet wonbin.

though unlike sungchan, seunghan seemed amused. especially when he caught sweet wonbin with his hand down your pants.

sungchan couldn't contain his disbelief as an image filled his screen, a scoff bubbling from his throat. seunghan seemed even more amused, commenting about the look on your face, how desperate you looked and sounded from where he stood. seunghan belittled wonbin as he detailed how pathetically aroused wonbin was by the simple feeling of your cunt under his fingers.

sungchan opened the picture again. your expression was one sungchan didn't see often. your eyes were wide, darkened, and wet, and your lips were pulled apart, your throat drawn in as the picture captured a deep inhale. seunghan had made you look that way once. years ago when this had just begun. when you still didn't know what they wanted. it had been so easy for seunghan to arouse you, a few touches to your inner thighs and a light pinch to your nipples had you glancing up at seunghan with that same expression. but seunghan hadn't gone through with anything after sungchan knocked some sense into him. what was seunghan's plan? was he going to fuck you? sungchan wouldn't let him. seunghan could never stoop that low.

wonbin, on the other hand, was just as insignificant as you were. seunghan said that was why you were drawn to each other. one useless human making another feel worth something.

it was seunghan's idea. a perverted fantasy sungchan had heard about for years. it was seunghan's dream to witness something like this. to have someone's free will in his hands, barking degrading commands that would always be unwillingly obeyed despite the camera waving in their face.

wonbin had never been able to overpower seunghan, let alone sungchan. it was all much too easy. sungchan knew seunghan thought so, too. seunghan always loved to see a fierce struggle.

that's why seunghan liked you so much. he liked walking away with bruises and scratches almost as dark and painful as the ones he had littered along your skin, but not quite. where seunghan had a cut, you had a gash. it was proof that no matter how much you tried, they would always win. sungchan never missed the way his best friend's pants tightened when he cleaned himself up.

sungchan currently stared at the scene in front of him. your lip pulled between your teeth and your hands over your eyes, shielding you fron the blinding light of seunghan's flash. wonbin had his eyes aimed at the ground beside you, plump lips parted as he heaved. sungchan craned his head, locking eyes with wonbin as he pushed wonbin's hips forward once more, pushing his cock as far into your welcoming cunt as he could. wonbin hissed, eyebrows pulling together as his pained look shifted into a glare.

"aw," sungchan teased, shoving wonbin forward, forcing his cock into a spot that made you cry out. seunghan grunted at the sound, pulling your hands from your eyes and tracing the sides of your face with his fingers. you turned away, concealing your face from seunghan's camera.

sungchan continued pushing wonbin. "are you angry, wonbin?" the younger's lips quivered, a sight sungchan quickly realized he missed. "you can't be that upset. you're so hard. you probably wouldn't pull out if i let you go, would you? you'd use this pussy all on your own."

wonbin looked away again, fixing his eyes on your face. tears streamed down your cheeks and seunghan was suddenly much too close, lips hovering over yours that babbled unintelligibly. "oh, come on, wonbin. she won't notice." wonbin blinked away his own tears.

sungchan ran his thumb over wonbin's bare hip, "i know you want to... or maybe you want me to do it. do you like it when i touch you?" wonbin squirmed, cheeks reddening.

"sungchan," seunghan called. sungchan tore his eyes away from wonbin, looking at the phone seunghan held in his direction. he shook it wordlessly, gaze flickering to where your hips met wonbin's.

sungchan took it, pointing it at wonbin's face. "go on," he said, "show us what you can do."

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oldfashioned-lovergirl · 19 days

Note

omg hihihi!!! im obsessed with the fic you wrote for niki and james and i was wondering if you could write one for ayrton senna? maybe with the reader being his teammate and its their first season and just him falling in love with her? idk tbh. its criminal that theres so little fics of him im obsessed with him currently xx

old money — AS27 x reader

cw: car crash

note: fr there are no fics about him and he’s one of the most handsome men i’ve ever seen. also i love old f1 vibes

masterlist

When you first met him, you immediately noticed how oddly he was looking at you. You couldn’t get whatever he was thinking, so you just assumed he didn’t like you. For a time. Then one day something changed.

You crashed in Imola. You got out of the car without even a scratch, but the faces of the people when you returned to the paddock with the ambulance made you guess it mustn’t have looked good from the screens.

And there he was. Despite the very few words you exchanged since you knew each other, rushing towards you, none other than the best driver on the grid, your rival and teammate Ayrton Senna.

Brown eyes filled with worry and hair still soaked in sweat, he called your name and took your arms in his hands. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I– I think I’m okay. I just got scared.” You didn’t know why you were telling your feelings to him, you just didn’t think much about it.

“Me too.” For a moment you thought he was gonna pull you in a hug, but he didn’t. He just softly put a hand on you cheek and then let go of you. “Glad to know you’re well, pequena.”

You found Ayrton standing in front of his Porsche Cabriolet at the end of the day. It was getting dark, few people were still in the paddock to celebrate his victory.

You hurried to reach him before he left. “Ayrton.” He turned around, but you know he was already looking at you from afar. He clearly had a shower because he smelled fresh and the red overalls had given way to a white elegant shirt. “I wanted to congratulate. Also, thank you for worrying about me earlier, you kind of reassured me.”

“No need to thank me.” He made a pause. You wondered if it was time for you to go. “You know, I was going to dinner with a friend but he won’t be able to come. Would you like to join? I have a reservation for two.”

You stared at him, surprised by the invitation, then looked down at your own jeans and blouse outfit. “I don’t know if I’m suited for the situation.”

“You are.” He opened the front seat door for you. “Let’s go.”

The restaurant was a villa in the Emilian countryside. You had never seen such a beautiful place in your entire life.

The dinner went very well. You ate pasta on a table in the garden. There were warm lights that made the location very cozy. Ayrton was so sweet, very different from the fierce man everybody saw on track. You talked about the race, but not only. You learned more about his personal life and viceversa. He asked if you were seeing someone, you shook your head. “And you?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

You thought of the gorgeous girls he was often photographed with. You didn’t believe yourself to be that pretty.

“I’m sorry if I’m not very talkative between one race and the other, I’m just trying to stay professional.” His freckles were as glaring as ever in that light. After his words, you realized you may have misinterpreted his detachment. “But when you crashed today… I don’t know, it seemed dangerous from my point of view. The thought of not seeing you next to me anymore scared me a lot.”

Spelling those words, Ayrton was playing with the glass of water in his hand, his eyes shyly looking downwards. “So I wondered if you’d like to hang out. Outside of work, I mean.”

In his own words, that was a declaration.

“I–“ That was what you wanted since you saw him introducing himself in that conference room, however you knew how risky the situation you were putting yourself into was. But right there, looking up at you with those eyes full of hope, surrounded by that magical place, he was so handsome. “I’d love to.”

#ayrton senna #ayrton senna x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #formula 1 #f1

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whorediaries-09 · 7 months

Note

Hi, I hope that you're having a nice day! Could I request angry sex with Sirius with the prompt 28? Maybe they've had a fight but Sirius got tired of the whole ignoring each other thing and took matters into his own hands?

hi dear anon! i hope you like this xoxo

i think you make me a maniac

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content. a/n- gahhhh. this is just pure filth 😵‍💫

kinkotober rules the slut club

prompt- angry sex + 'you want gentle? wrong fucking address.'

one of his hands hastily unlatch his belt while the other pins you against the door of his bedroom. you try to squirm away, but he holds you close, his lips bruising every inch of your body which you had left uncovered.

'you think you can ignore me?' he rumbles into your ear, pushing through the door. he slams you against his mattress and you let out a squeak of protest, but he doesn't acknowledge it. he's angry and you know it. it sends electrifying lust through your veins, but you try not to show it. he's rogue, he's rough while he tears off the clothing off your body.

but you love it. it drives you crazy, it drives you into a high, scorching you with emotions of desire and fierce addiction of his touch.

and although he's just wearing his boxers and shirt, he can't get rid off them fast enough. his lips trail every inch of your skin, he breaths hotness with every rogue brush of his touch. he blows cool over your hot mound of nerves and you arch your back. he smirks, inserting two fingers into you at once, stretching you deliciously. you moan, as he rams his fingers into you, his thumb rubbing at your clit.

his cock is big and you know it. and he's preparing you for it. you had heard tales about it, but never experienced it. of course. you were supposed to be friends weren't you? but now you were in his bed, naked, as he rammed his fingers into you, driving you into an insanity of pleasure you had never experienced before.

he shoves his fingers soaked in your juices inside your mouth. it tickles your throat and you gag. and before you know it, the walls of your cunt burn, and sirius pushes all of him inside you. you scream, your hips rolling. tears creep at your eyes, his hand curling under your waist, as he picks you up, pushing your bare chest closer to his. you whisper,

'gentle, please.'

darkness hoods his eyes, and he smirks.

'you want gentle? wrong fucking address.'

and he's ramming into you. it drives you crazy, he explores your guts, and he somehow hits all the perfect spots. he groans and whispers dirty words in your ear, but the slow sensual way his words beat against your eardrums is nothing like the pace he slams into you. his pelvic bone rubs against your clit oh so perfectly, and you think it won't be long before you're screaming his name, cumming on his cock.

he drives you crazy, and you feel like a maniac. heat surges through every inch of your body and he slams hard and fast into you. it's a sweet symphony of abuse. a punishment you think. but you like it. the saccharine bliss of his roughness, his hot touch, the feeling of his cock in you, ruining you, breaking you apart, you like it.

and he knows you like it. he smiles like a fucking devil when you scream his name in a string of profanities.

'sirius-fuc-shit-OH! don't you fucking stop-'

'yeah? i won't. ignore me again and i'll fuck you till you're fucking braindead.' he promises.

you think you're already a bit braindead.

he's ruining you, exploring all of you, rutting into your guts. he hits your g-spot perfectly and you groan, your head falling slack against his shoulder. his hair tickles your face and the overwhelming desire of orgasm grips you. so close, you think, your walls pulsing around his cock, gripping him tight. the coil of your orgasm bubbles like boiling water in your stomach. you hear the smugness in his voice,

'cum around my cock darling, i can feel you,' you mumble incoherently, the pleasure numbing your senses. your walls flutter, and the coil breaks free. you scream, as he rubs your clit while you release,

'god, thank y-shit-sirius!' he growls, ramming into your harder, chasing his own release. he paints your insides white, releasing white hot ropes of cum inside you. he smiles, placing a chaste kiss over your forehead.

it's maniacal.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black thoughts #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you #sirius black fanart #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x oc #marauders era #kinkotober

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starogeorgina · 11 months

Text

Children of the dragon

Warnings: Incest, violence

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen × Targ oc

1.09

Beads of sweat drip down your back as you try to push the cries of a mother mourning her babe that plagued your dreams into the back of your mind. Two days have passed since you arrived at Dragonstone—two long days without hearing anything from Aegon, leaving you mentally exhausted while the strain of your due date creeping up on you was physically draining, although you would never complain out loud given the circumstances.

After holding a funeral for her stillborn daughter Visenya, Rhaenyra was crowned queen with the same crown that belonged to your late father.

Guilt bubbles in your chest as you cradle your bump, feeling the smooth velvet material beneath your fingers. The dark purple dress was a gift for Rhaenyra, made to fit her during the last term of pregnancy, but as she would no longer need it and you came without any clothes, she insisted you wear it along with her other gowns made to fit a swollen stomach.

You hold your head high while stepping up to the carved table in the shape of Westeros, engraved with its major cities, castles, and landmarks. The painted table was surrounded by the black council, consisting of your uncle Daemon, Corlys Velaryon and his wife Princess Rhaenys, Rhaenyra’s two oldest sons, Ser Erryk Cargyll and Ser Lorent Marbrand. Even with smaller numbers during this meeting as the other lords and bannermen weren’t in attendance, you found it intimidating to talk in front of them; you felt judged for who your lover, husband, mother, and grandsire were. While some tried to think of a way to prevent your brother from being crowned, it was suggested by Jacaerys to focus on the aftermath instead. As it was unlikely there would be any way to stop the inevitable.

Your mouth runs dry as you step forward to counter what Daemon had just said: during his assessment of the biggest risks, he had put your mother's sworn protector far too low down on the list. “Ser Criston Cole is no fool uncle, and he will have no boundaries. He will not hesitate to shed blood first, and because of this, I don’t believe it will take long for him to become my brother's hand.”

“And you’re sure of this?” Lord Corlys asks, “Aemond will make Ser Criston the hand of the king if he is crowned?”

“My guess is Aemond will keep my grandsire as hand of the king for a week at the longest to please our mother, but he will grow frustrated with his strategizing and replace him with Cole. Both hands will be a threat equally, but attack differently.”

“In what way?” The fierceness in Rhaenyra’s voice was almost scary.

“My grandsire will find alliance in any enemy you have ever made, while Cole will look for another approach, a deadlier one.” You glance at your nephews, not wanting to continue in front of them. What you wanted to say next would most definitely scare them, and that was not your intention.

“Luke go check on your brothers, Rhaena, and Baela. They should be in the nursery and attending their lessons,” Rhaenyra says softly.

When your nephew is out of earshot, you say, “The main difference is the target.” Daemon slams his fists against the table, giving you a fright. Gulping, you nervously continue. “My grandsire will aim to take out the biggest threat first, which is our queen, Rhaenyra. He won’t feed into Aemond’s desire for revenge, but Cole will. Their goal will be to tear the blacks apart; I believe the first act of war will be on the children.”

A roar of outrage fills the room as Rhaenys and Corlys both argue against such a horrid suggestion. You understood; they had both lost their children and desperately wanted to keep their grandchildren safe. Rhaenyra stares ahead blankly, looking lost in thought; it probably never occurred to her that her former best friend's children would try to kill her own. Surprisingly, it’s Daemon who steps in to defend you, “the princess has some insight on which we do not; perhaps we best let her speak freely.”

You give him a curt nod, thanking him without actually saying the words. “There is a fishing village below the Dragonmont, with men coming and going at all hours. All it takes is one man to slip undetected for blood to start spilling.”

“Who do you think Aemond and Ser Criston will target first?” Jacaerys asks.

“My daughters, Alyssa and Alina, then Prince Lucery. Aemond still believes he is owed a debt for losing his eye.” The room falls silent as fear sets in. Hoping to lighten the mood slightly, you change the subject. “As of now, the Greens only have one dragon, Vhagar. Truthfully, I’m unsure where my brother Daeron’s loyalties will be, but both he and his dragon Tessarion are currently in Oldtown. Dreamfyre is no threat, as my sweet sister Helena would never-” You stop talking when the slight pain in your back and lower abdomen begins to intensify. Rhaenyra immediately rushes to your side, but you try to dismiss her as she calls for the maester. “I am a fine sister, truly.”

“You need to rest.”

“I will do no such thing; I cannot rest while you plan a war that I’m partly to blame for.”

“Leave us,” Rhaenyra says, addressing everyone in the room. When the room is empty, she takes your hand in hers and says, “I know how lonely life in the keep can be. I understand why you turned to Aegon for comfort.”

“It’s more than that, Rhaenyra. I feel as if the gods themselves are looking down on us and giving us their blessing when I’m with him. I’ve always loved him; Aegon is the other half of me.”

Rhaenyra wipes away the tears rolling down your cheeks. Softly, she says, “Then it couldn’t possibly be wrong, dear girl.”

“I just never thought the consequences of our actions would be so dire.”

“You are not to blame for this war,” Rhaenyra says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You feel a sense of motherly love coming from her that you never felt was given from your own. “The greens would have usurped me regardless; the only ones to blame are Otto and Alicent. I swear to you now that no harm will come to you, Aegon, or Helena. And I will protect your children as if they were my own.”

“Thank you,” you sniff. It had already been discussed many times what should happen when Aegon eventually arrives on Dragonstone, as he did steal his own sister's crown. However, Rhaenyra understood the difficult position he was forced into, and as long as he bent the knee to her, he would be welcome among the blacks.

“Perhaps it won’t come to war.”

The hopefulness in her voice made you smile slightly. “Aemond is just as spiteful as he is proud. He’s going to stop at nothing to try and sit on the iron throne, but luckily for the people of Westeros, that’s not going to happen. We already have our queen.”

—

Frustrated, you rub at your eyes, trying to fully wake yourself up. On Rhaenyra’s orders, you were to rest for the remainder of the day, which you grudgingly agreed to.

A handmaiden filled you a bath with the finest-smelling oils, leaving your hair and body feeling extremely soft to the touch. It was supposed to help expecting mothers relax. Afterwards, you tried to sleep but kept tossing and turning. Something was nagging at you, but you couldn’t place the feeling. Sighing, you fluff your pillow before resting your head against it, trying to sleep.

“Do you ever have other dreams?”

“Yes, I had a vision of our nephew Jace dying.”

“I definitely don't want Aeron interacting with bastards.”

“Your fight with the Velaryon boys is not mine, and it's definitely not my children's.”

Letting out a gasp, you leap forward when you suddenly feel as if you’re falling from a great height. Your eyes are fixated on the sky above, and you observe clouds gathering in the distance through the small window. I'm in the sky, surrounded by clouds. The sun is shining down on me, and then it disappears. Your own words echo in your mind, and then the realization dawns on you. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. You had it wrong all along; it was never Jace you saw in your dreams; it was Luke.

You grab the gray long coat that was hanging over the back of a chair, using it to keep yourself decent since you didn’t have time to change from the thin nightdress you wore. Swinging the door open so suddenly, the knight who was posted outside it asked, “Where is Prince Lucery?”

“He’s gone to Storm's End as an envoy for the queen.”

“On dragon's back?”

The knight looks slightly concerned by your questioning but nods.

You start to run down the hallway as fast as your heavy body will allow, ignoring the knight calling after you. “Let my sister know I had to leave at once and that the children are in danger!”

“Princess! Princess!”

—

Somehow you managed to make it to Dallax without being detected; the last thing you needed was someone stopping you from leaving. If you had tried to explain your dream to your sister and uncle, they would have thought of you as mad. You didn’t know if they believed that some Targaryens saw visions in their dreams or not, and you didn’t have time to find out.

You searched the sky, hoping to spot your nephew before he reached Storm's End, but you feared you might have been too late. You weren’t sure what your dream meant other than that you needed to find him quickly. As if the gods were answering your silent prayer, you hear wings flapping in the distance. Dallax flies in the direction of the noise, and you spot Arrax below.

As you descend towards Lucerys, he looks up and screams, “He’s coming!”

You’re confused by what he means until a dark shadow clouds over you. Vhagar. Aemond shouts a slur of commands and insults in High Valyrian, but with the wind ringing in your ears, it was hard to fully understand. He was chasing the young prince on a dragon that was three times larger than Arrax, which was just a baby dragon in comparison. It was sickening. Aemond only turns his attention away from the young boy when he notices you. Vhagar swiftly changes direction and comes straight for you, jaws still open.

“May the mother have mercy on us all.”

A loud roar rips through the air as Sunfyre swipes at the older and much larger dragon. You catch a glimpse of Aegon with Aeron strapped to his chest, and panic sets in. Your precious son was caught up in this, and you couldn’t bear to lose him.

You were so caught up staring at Aegon and your son that you almost didn’t notice Aemond charging at Luke through the air again.

“Aemond no!” You scream as you watch Vhagar’s jaws about to close around Arrax, “Dracarys!” Dallax breathes fire in the direction of Aemond, your brother… your husband. There's no going back now. You could not undo what had been done. “Lucerys, go!”

Before Vhagar has a chance to attack you in return, Sunfyre claws at her face, causing the dragon to let out a roar that was so loud you were sure the people in King's Landing would have heard it. You watch helplessly as the two dragons claw and bite at each other. “Aemond stop!” You beg, knowing which dragon would win if this continued, “Please just stop-ahh!”

You scream as shooting pains travel between your lower back and pelvis. Through tear-hazed eyes, you watch as a third dragon joins the fighting. Lucerys never left. Despite both riders' best efforts, neither of them were a match for Aemond and Vhagar, whose full attention was now on you.

“Dracarys!”

You’re unsure of what happens next as it happens so fast, but you cry out in anguish as Dallax crashes into the sea, while above, Vhagar bites down on Arrax before turning her attention to Sunfyre.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x you #Aegon ii Targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #children of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #Aegon Targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen/oc #Aegon ii Targaryen x fem oc #Aegon ii x oc #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x fem oc #Aegon Targaryen/oc #aegon targaryen x oc

340 notes · View notes

outro-jo · 9 months

Text

nct 127 and their black cat partner

pairing: nct members x (gn) reader

type: headcanon?

warnings: none really

request: yes?

notes: i got an interesting request and i wasn’t sure how to go about it until i saw this svt reaction and so i went more this route

how i personally define a black cat personality: dark energy/vibe usually accompanied by a dark aesthetic but doesn’t always have to. not super fond of affection or prefers affection on their own terms. sassy with good quips and comebacks. has an interest in “darker” topics such as horror, the occult, “dark” psychology, etc. chronically unbothered. FIERCELY protective once you gain their love/loyalty. occasionally unhinged and feral (gets the zoomies whether physical or mental/verbal). big scorpio energy tbh

not taking requests at this time/cleaning out my inbox

masterlist | info

——————————————

taeyong- god he’s in love with you. like simp doesn’t even begin to cover it. you eventually become his protector since he’s so sweet and pure, you must fight anyone that hurts him. the best thing in the world is when you’re in your head and to everyone else it just seems like your brooding or annoyed or something, but taeyong sees right through that. he just comes over, kisses your face and hands you a switch like, “let’s play some animal crossing” 🥰

taeil- he’s like the brighter version of you in that you’re both really lowkey and don’t say much but he has like a happier energy. like you’re there to spread negativity and he kinda cancels it out. like black cat and brown cat vibes. he just generally finds you amusing. like all these people in the room and the only thing he really cares about it you. as much as he loves how protective you are of him, he does have to keep you reigned in a bit bc you are a bit of a “feral cat”. he still loves you all the same.

johnny- he’s lowkey your golden retriever bf. he’s like bouncing around and has all this energy and you’re sitting there like 😐. he makes you do more things than you really wanna do bc he’s an adventurer and you’re an indoor cat fr. “fine i’ll go but i’m not gonna be happy about it.” “yes!!!” he’s just happy to have you around and eventually you do kinda like wherever it is he’s brought you to. he brings you out of your comfort zone and you ground him.

yuta- my god does he love you. you’re the only one that can keep up with him. he’s mean but it’s in a flirty way and you’re mean in a “jokey” way but he loves it sm. sarcasm is y’all’s love language fr. he would quite literally d!3 for you if necessary but a big ol’ uno reverse card on that one. you’re just as fiercely protective of him and god, does he love it. one time you nearly got into blows with a “fan” who was harassing him. the smirk on her face when she went running, PLEASE!

doyoung- you’re his angel… fallen angel but an angel nonetheless. he LOVES teasing you in a playful way just to have you stare at him like 😒. he’s also super affectionate with you which you’re mostly indifferent about but he’s amused by your lack of amusement. his favorite thing is the way you show love bc it’s v cat like. you find little things to gift him like his favorite snack you picked up while you were out or a crystal you think he needs or something he said in passing that he needs or wants. you’re also great a quality time. just sitting with him reading a book or playing your switch while he’s doing something for work or himself. you’re just his favorite person to be around.

jaehyun- he just has this permanent smirk on his face watching you. like you’re 1000% in full gremlin mode, eating peanut butter from the jar, messy hair, in a hoodie that hasn’t been washed in a while, but he’s just like obsessed with you. he LOVES how sassy you are with people and the comebacks you have are god-tier. he loves to spoil you bc you kinda sit there and just stare at the thing for a few mins trying to process why he would spend money on you but 1) you’re his whole world and 2) he likes your reactions. it’s funny and cute to him.

jungwoo- so this man is so baby girl it hurts. some days you don’t even know how or why you’re with him or why he likes you but you learn just not to question it. but you’ve gotten attached to him and anyone that hurts him 😈👹 must d!3 👹😈. you’re the only one that can “be mean” to him but he has a degradation k!nk so he loves it. he’s pretty respectful of your space but every once in a while he needs a cuddle.

mark- another beast boy and raven duo (see my skz one) but y’all are so chill with each other but mark is chill… in a doofus (lovingly) way. i can also see kinda april and andy vibes. “someone will d!3…” “of fun?!” he’s a little scared of you but also a little turned on by you. but he’s always down to invoke the powers of darkness with you as long as you go get food together.

haechan- he’s intimidated by you in like a simp way. normally with everyone else he’s a little shit but you’re so hot and intimidating that he can’t help but 🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️ sometimes all you have to do is give him a look and he 😐. but he loves you so fucking much. if you aren’t a cuddly or affectionate person, you will be by the time he’s done with you. he gets real excited when your feral streak kicks in and y’all are lowkey manic together. the way this man hypes you up in a fight, if you ever get that far 😂

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