#they are... simply a family your honour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evermoreal · 4 months

Text

it always leads to you ࿐

pairing: simon riley x reader

genre: dad’s best friend au, fluff, smut, a touch of angst

cw: smut - this is 18+ minors dni, age gap (ghost is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), fem!reader, reader is implied to be shorter than ghost, unprotected sex (bad idea!!!!!), praise kink (excessive use of ‘good girl’), oral (m & f receiving), face-fucking (he’s gentle abt it), ummmm a man that is Not ghost makes unwanted sexual advances, small mention of blood (someone gets a cut on their forehead). please lmk if i missed anything !!!!!!

summary: coming home for the holidays is both a blessing and a curse — cheesy music, bittersweet nostalgia, and simon riley, your father’s best friend and the man you’ve had a stupidly big crush on for years.

author’s note: hiii!! um a Few things . firstly, i seldom write smut & when i do i never post it. i have put off posting this for so long bc i was so nervous — it was originally meant to be a christmas gift to u guys 😭😭 n e ways we Prevail. also i despite being Obsessed w him i’ve never written for ghost !!!! i want to do soo much more for him & the other cod men, so if u have any reqs/ideas, my asks are always open !!! love u guys soooooo much i hope i enjoy ! 💋💋

word count: 11k (sorry 😭)

credits: title is from tis the damn season by taylor swift, and the beauuuutifullll render/edit of ghost is by user dwisesz on twitter!

before you met him, you’d heard endless stories. for as long as you could remember, your father recounted tales of his friend ‘ghost’ from the army. every time he came back from deployment, there’d be something new — ghost’s snipe from 2,700 meters away, ghost making your dad laugh so hard beer came out of his nose, ghost making a new recruit cry simply by staring at them.

there were others, of course, too; gaz, who your father had quite the soft spot for; john, who quickly became your favourite when you met him a few years ago and he snuck you a sip of wine at dinner; soap, who was new to the team but had enough passion to carry an entire army on his back.

ghost, though — he was your dad’s favourite. though he claimed to be too honourable for favourites, the way your father spoke about him made it clear. a simultaneous respect and affection woven through every recounted story.

it was a shock you didn’t meet him until your freshman year of college. your father and ghost’s leave fell around the same time, and your father had invited him to stay with your family. your father never revealed much about ghost’s history, but you knew it was dark and splattered with blood. he was alone now, and though he claimed he preferred it that way, he’d accepted your father’s invitation.

from your bedroom, you’d heard the front door creak open, and without so much as a breath you were bounding down the stairs, bare feet smacking against the hardwood. your father was in the midst of putting down his bags when you threw your arms around him. “dad!”

he reciprocated immediately, pulling you tightly against him. “hi, honey. i missed you.”

as you pulled back, he patted your head, and you spotted a shadow along the floor. following it toward the still-open door, you found a broad, menacing figure, blocking most of the sunlight. he was nearly as wide as the doorway, and the top of his head just barely made it under the threshold. over his face was hidden by a black balaclava with the faint impression of a skull along the front, faded with age and use. despite the endless stories, you were immediately intimidated, and stepped closer to your father.

your dad squeezed your arm, chuckling. “lieutenant, this is my daughter.”

looking between the two of you, simon took a slow step forward, and extended his hand. his movements were careful, like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook.

hesitating briefly, you slipped your hand into his. the warmth of ghost’s hand bled through the gloves he wore as he squeezed yours once. “nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“it’s nice to meet you, um, mr ghost.” you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye.

a low, raspy chuckle rumbled from his chest, and beneath the balaclava, his eyes creased into tiny half-moons. “just simon is fine, love.”

and, really, he didn’t even give you a chance. there was no warning, no preamble. in an instant, fear ignited into something far more dangerous — attraction.

with a warm stomach, you smiled, and tried your hardest to keep it from growing too wide. “right. um. simon. yes.” you bit your cheek. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

finally releasing your hand, he murmured, “terrible things, i assume.” his wink was quick and cheeky and certainly wasn’t meant to release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and yet . . .

“mostly,” you joked, and beside you, your father laughed. it was a rude awakening — ice water splashed over your silly little daydream. this man was only a few years younger than your father — in no universe would he give you a chance, and in no world should you want him to.

as quickly and as unassumingly as you could, you excused yourself, claiming you were in the middle of packing — which was mostly true. you were due on campus in less than two weeks, and if you didn’t start now, you’d leave it until the night before and end up forgetting something.

initially, you’d dreaded spending two weeks under the same roof as simon. it was a surefire plan to end up embarrassing yourself, because you’d never really been able to act normally around a crush, especially one in the shape of a 6-foot-whatever behemoth. yet, as the days went on, that dread steadily began to lift. despite your school girl crush, simon was easy to talk to. a lot of the time he was quiet, but his eyes never wavered from you, listening intently and humming where it mattered. he was fun, too — he recommended good movies, took you shopping while your father ran errands, taught you the best places to hit a man if one attacked you.

(a picture of simon, dramatically curled up in pain after you’d accidentally kicked him in the balls during a lesson now sits in your phone’s ‘favourites’ folder).

two weeks went by far too quickly, and before you knew it, your dad and simon were lugging your belongings up and into your dorm. not a single bag was left for you — you were tasked with the important duty of telling them what went where. when all was said and done, simon handed you a tiny piece of paper with a ten-digit number scrawled messily across it.

“in case you ever need me,” he explained, warm brown eyes peering at you beneath terribly long lashes. “i know your dad’s always there, but — just in case.”

then, he’d patted your head and squeezed your shoulder, murmuring a, “good luck, kid.”

and, though he was lovely to look at and talk with and exist around, you knew it would never be anything more. no matter how desperately a silly little part of you wished it. he spent time with you because he didn’t have anyone else. never had a daughter or a niece to spoil or playfight with. it was endearing, the way he interacted with you. wholesome and innocent and if that was all you’d ever get, you’d be happy.

— ∘♡༉∘ —

college was a lot. it was simultaneously the best and worst time of your life, passing by at both a snail’s and bullet’s pace. somehow, you ended up halfway through your final year. the holidays had rolled around, leaving you on a train, weaving over the tracks as you made your way back home.

in the years you’d been away, you’d kept in contact with simon. he joined your family for every holiday, and beyond that, you texted him often. sent him photos of your proudest grades, spirit days, or yummy meals. he’d even occasionally text you first, asking how your classes were going, if it was raining there like it was here, if you got home safe on the nights he knew you went out.

the landlord he’d rented his shitty apartment from ended up selling the place and simon had to relocate, finding a place only a few minutes from your dad’s. they loved to bug you, now — sending selfies and videos. to occupy themselves on their offtime, they’d opened a car repair shop together, and it only got worse.

you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow, but you were feeling homesick and your bags were already packed. before long, you were stepping out of a taxi, bags in hand, and ambling up to the shop.

the reception area was tiny, sweetly decorated for the holidays and playing some generic christmas station. leaning against the desk was soap, slyly flirting with the blushing woman behind it.

his eyes lit up upon seeing you. “the fuck’re you doin’ ‘ere, lass?” he questioned far too loudly. immediately, you shushed him, and he caught on. “ooh, i love surprises. they’re back in the garage, workin’ away. y’want me t’film it?”

giggling, you shook your head, accepting the quick side hug he gave you. when you slipped through the garage door — opening it bit by bit, never too quickly lest it creak, soap returned to the customer.

the garage was stocked with cars in disrepair and various parts you couldn’t name if your life depended on it. the stench of motor oil, cigar smoke, and antifreeze stung your nose as you made your way over, where simon was wheeled beneath a car, thick thighs flexed inside oil-stained jeans. your father was turned away from you, bent over a shoddy metal table table and observing an array of papers. an ancient radio sat next to them, croaking out a rock song from your childhood.

“one of these days, i’m gonna teach you to use spotify,” you called, voice bouncing off the cement walls and ceiling.

a bang proceeded your words, and in the same instant, your father turned around, exclaiming your name and wrapping you in the world’s tightest bear-hug.

“we were supposed to pick you up tomorrow!” he said, voice muffled to your ears beneath the suffocating squeeze of his arms.

“figured i’d surprise you,” you supplied, stepping back from his grasp once it loosened. immediately after, you were enveloped by simon, who stunk of grease, cheap cologne, and tobacco. you inhaled; it was lovely.

“my favourite college student,” he murmured into the top of your head. “how y’been, trouble?”

when you pulled away, a dark splotch caught your eye. a small but growing patch of blood stained the top of his balaclava, turning the black fabric a murky shade of brown.

“shit! you’re bleeding!” you yelped, stepping away from him and searching your surroundings — there wasn’t much for medical supplies in a garage.

beside you, your dad was laughing; a deep, wheezy sound. “did y’hit your head?”

simon grunted, shooting you a playful glare. “if college doesn’t work out, kid, y’ve got an easy spot on the one-four-one. you’re quiet as a mouse. scared the shit outta me.”

despite yourself, you snorted. “i’ll keep that in mind. d’you guys have any bandaids?”

“there’s some in the office. bottom drawer of my desk,” your father replied, voice tinged with amusement.

“thank you, dad. simon, come. i took a first-aid course in high school.”

obediently, simon followed, keeping just a step behind as you moved through the garage. from his table, john called, “we’re going out for dinner tonight, don’t make plans!”

“sir yes sir!”

simon and your father’s office was a small room just off the garage. carpeted, with off-white walls and dusty blinds letting in yellowish rays of sunlight. dusty photos hung from the wall; a few of you and your father; the 141; a german shepherd simon adored.

moving to the desk, you bent over and dug through the mountain of junk in the bottom drawer. the box of bandaids was shoved into the corner, bent and creased. simon copied your movements, rounding the desk and sitting on the worn desk chair.

“d’you know if you have anything to clean it with? hydrogen peroxide, saline, any kind of antiseptic?” you questioned, opening the drawer above it, which contained only invoices and a chequebook.

humming, simon stood, moving to the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. at the roll of your eyes, he chuckled. “it works, doesn’t it?”

“i suppose it does,” you replied, collecting the fast food napkins you’d spotted while searching for the bandaids. then, after he’d sat once more, you softy placed your fingers at the bottom of simon’s balaclava. “may i?”

whenever simon’s eyes met yours, your breath hitched. every single time. whether it was because of that stupid crush that never went away or because his gaze were simply so intense, like an entire world existed within small pools of deep brown. pulling you in, drowning you. it was impossible to look away.

again, he hummed, granting you permission. gently, you rolled the fabric up, revealing his face inch by inch. this wouldn’t be the first time you’d seen his face — he spent far too much time around you to hide it. he still wore it more often than not, though, and every time he bothered to tug it off, it was like seeing it for the first time. roman nose, full lips, the scar across his brow, the prickly dusting of facial hair along his jaw. it was a shame he hated photographs — you’d frame it if you had any less sanity.

in your distraction, the tension had grown thick, humming in the silence of the room. clearing your throat, you took the whiskey from him, turning it over in your hands. “this stuff is shit.”

his face twisted. “how the hell d’you know what whiskey tastes like?”

snorting, you uncapped the bottle, and began to soak the corner of a napkin. “y’know, riley, i’ve been legal for a while now.”

his lip twitched, forming a crooked smile. “i know. it’s hard not to. y’keep growing. every time i see you, you’re . . .”

he trailed off. placing a gentle hand on his forehead, you tilted his head backward, and began to gently wipe at the cut. “i’m what?”

imperceptibly, he shook his head, careful not to jostle you. “more of a woman.”

you barked a laugh at that, and his smile grew. “more of a woman? what does that mean? i had tits when i met you, simon.”

simon rolled his eyes. “that’s not — what i meant. you’re . . . not a kid. you’re meaner now, for one.”

resuming the cleaning of his wound, you pouted. “mean? you wound me. maybe i’m just not scared of you anymore.”

“no, you’re not mean. always been a sweetheart.” his eyes fluttered shut beneath your ministrations. “you were scared of me?”

you giggled, and placed the bloodied napkin in the trash. then, you dug out a bandaid. “no, not really. nervous, maybe. intimidated.”

“is my handsome face really so daunting?”

this time, your laugh was lacklustre — he’d hit the nail straight on the head. “you’re bigfoot in a skull mask. before you spoke, i was a bit nervous.”

“but you’re not? now?”

peeling the parchment from the back of the bandaid, you met his gaze. “no. why would i be?”

this time, it was simon that looked away. you delicately placed the band-aid over the cut, before he said, “thank you, angel.”

you smiled, and, like you were drunk of the proximity of him, placed a quick, daring kiss to the band-aid. “if i wasn’t such a generous nurse, i’d say you owe me. you’re lucky.”

simon breathed laugh, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the tops of his cheeks were pink. clenching and unclenching his jaw, he murmured, “lucky indeed.”

— ∘♡༉∘ —

in hindsight, believing your high school friends were capable of growing up was one of your less intelligent ideas. call it boredom or stupidity, but when a few of your old friends invited you out to the bar, you were compelled to accept.

it, unsurprisingly, went dreadfully. the first half of the night was fine — the first round of shots was purchased by one of the sweeter ones. you caught up over murky-coloured cocktails, swapping stories about your new lives and reminiscing over your old ones. the alcohol warmed your skin and loosened your limbs. the night went on and the amount of patrons doubled; you recognized a lot of them from old classes or bus rides or kindergarten friendships.

a boy from high school, one that hadn’t said a single nice thing to you in the entire four years, approached you with something that was supposed to be a smirk. you were polite at first, nodding along to his slurred words, exhaling when he attempted a joke. he dragged a hand over your thigh, and when you shifted away he easily followed. you excused yourself, muttering something about using the restroom, and he took it as an invitation.

“y’like it public, huh? never took you as the type,” he garbled, sliding off the barstool and following your movements. “i like whatever you like, baby.”

“no, i — actually need to pee,” you stated, glancing around the bar for your lost friends. he stared at you for a long minute, eyes narrowing.

“mm, fine. i’ll — i’ll pull up my car, we can head back to my place.”

“no, i—” you began, eyeing his sleazy grin and glazed-over leer. “i don’t want to go home with you. i’m not interested. i’m sorry.”

it takes a few moments for him to wrap his head around your words; each one spelled out across his face as it’s processed. finally, his expression twisted into a sneer.

“should’ve fuckin’ known not to waste my time with you,” he barked, unfocused eyes glaring daggers at you. “once a whore always a whore, huh?”

the most embarrassing part of this was the tears. you didn’t let him see them — too prideful to let them fall before you muttered a “fuck you,” and escaped out the side door.

the night air was freezing, twinged with the sharp bite of early winter. without a jacket or alcohol — you’d sobered up as soon as his hand touched your leg — to warm you, you were left hugging yourself, digging your phone out of your purse.

you could have sobbed when a red battery symbol lights up the screen, before flickering back off, dead. you just might have had you not spotted a pay-phone a few meters away.

there were only a few coins in your purse. had it not been kept for just-in-case situations like these, there would be none at all. shoving a few into the coin slot, you dial the number you’d had memorized from childhood.

it rang several times, wind whistling in your other ear, before your father’s voice stated, “sorry, can’t reach the phone. leave a message.”

a choked sound left your throat. what the hell were you supposed to do? most of your friends had split off into tiny sub-groups, and you were too ashamed to ask any of them for a ride. there was the option of asking a bartender to call a cab, though the idea of that was, for no real reason, profusely embarrassing. then, you remembered the one other phone number you’d memorized.

you don’t really know why — there was no reason for you to remember it, especially over any other phone number. yet, when he’d handed you that crumbled sheet of paper, your eyes had traced over the shapes of the numbers, and for some reason committed them to memory with no further effort.

whatever the reason was, you didn’t feel like questioning it. you were merely thankful you did. with cold fingertips, you pressed the digits into the payphone.

he picked up on the fourth ring. “who’s this?” was the greeting.

“it’s me,” you replied, and you barely were able to finish saying your name before he was cutting you off.

”what’s wrong? are you alright?”

huffing a quiet laugh, you said, “‘m fine, simon. i just—” you sighed, clutching the phone tighter in your hand. “i went out with my friends, an’ i—i’m just not having a good time. i tried to call my dad, but it’s past ten, so he’s passed out. i’m sorry—”

“where are you?” he asked, and there was a rustling in the background.

there were only a few bars in town—he knew immediately where this one was. “i’m on my way, i’ll be there in ten. are you in a safe spot, sweetheart?”

“i’m in a telephone booth. my phone died.”

“of course it did. would you be willing to go in an’ ask the bartender to use the phone?”

“no.”

“alright. okay. just stay on the line with me then, okay? d’you have any extra change, in case y’run outta minutes?”

”yeah. i should be good. i’m—listen, si, i’m really sorry—”

“if i hear that word come outta y’r mouth again we’re gonna have issues,” he said, and you laughed despite yourself. “‘m glad you called. now i’ll get t’see your pretty face.”

a girlish giggle sounded from your chest, and if it weren’t so damn cold, you might’ve been embarrassed. “i hate bars.”

“y’go to the wrong ones,” he replied. “one day i’ll take you out to one of my favourites. show you a decent drink.”

“my drinks are decent,” you argued. there was a whooshing sound on the line, and you panicked. “you’re not driving your motorcycle, are you?”

“didn’t have anything else with me,” he said. “y’got a problem with my harley, trouble?”

“your harley is a death machine.”

simon chuckled. “i’ll drive slow with you.”

“you should be driving slow now.”

another laugh. “i’ll be there in three.”

“simon!” you admonished. “you said ten!”

“that was four minutes ago.”

shaking your head, you said, “your lack of self-preservation should be studied.”

in the few seconds he took to reply, your teeth clacked together, and simon swiftly asked, “are you chattering?”

your lack of response served as one on its own, and he continued, “doll, what’re you wearing in this telephone booth?”

“um,” you started, chewing your bottom lip. “a skirt.”

“and a jacket?”

“uh.”

“christ,” he swore. “your lack of self-preservation should be studied. it’s not even 5° out.”

“jackets are a lot of work to carry around in a bar,” you argued, though you knew it was fruitless. “and i wasn’t really planning on spending any time in a telephone booth.”

“y’should always prepare for the worst,” he stated. “what if i hadn’t picked up, hm?”

“you always pick up.”

for a short moment, the other line was quiet, with only the quiet whoosh of the wind brushing past the speakers. then, “yeah, i do.”

the way he said it — so tenderly, like an admission — had any response dying on your tongue. your heart felt oddly warm, and didn’t quite know what to do with yourself, curling and uncurling the phone cord around your fingers.

“‘m here, trouble,” simon said, saving you from further awkward silence. a headlight glared against the glass of the phone booth, hallowing fingerprints and rain stains. squeaking out an, “okay,” you hung up the phone with a click and stepped out.

he was off his motorcycle already, immediately tugging off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before pulling you against him.

“god, you’re a fuckin’ ice cube, sweetheart,” he said. he held you like that for a while, arms wrapped so tightly around your frame that you worried you’d morph into him. not that you minded — he was warm.

afterwards, simon cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward as he examined you, as if you were ill or injured. furrowing his brow, he asked, “were you crying?”

you attempted to look away, ashamed, but in his grip it proved futile. “not much.”

“what happened?” he asked, and there was something in his voice, laced in the low rumble of it, that sounded threatening. it wasn’t meant for you, that was clear — he’d never direct anything hostile toward you. before he had even the barest idea of who or what made you cry, he was already furious at it.

“it’s nothing.”

“tell me,” he demanded. then, softer, “please. i just — need to know.”

moving your gaze from a far-off shape in the night towards his, you were unable to keep it from him. “i—this guy. i went to high school with him.”

a spark lit his gaze. “what’d he do?”

for a few breaths, you were quiet, trying to sort the words into something only mildly wrath-inducing. “he wanted, um, to take me home. i didn’t want to. he got upset.”

the spark caught, lighting his gaze into a furious blaze. even beneath the balaclava, you could see his jaw clench. he stepped away from you and set on a warpath toward the bar.

“simon—no,” you yelped, hurrying to catch up with him. it was a difficult task—your shoes weren’t comfortable and his long legs moved swiftly. finally, you caught his leather sleeve in your grasp. “don’t. please, don’t.”

at the sound of your voice, soft and warbled, he stopped, turning to face you once more, and whatever he saw on your face had his eyes softening.

“i don’t want to deal with him any more than i already have,” you said, staring up at him. “i just—i just want to leave. can we go to your house, please? i don’t want to be alone. i don’t want to think.”

the neon bar lights cast strange shadows across your frames, illuminating you in various bright colours as you stood, gazes caught in one another. simon seemed to fight with himself for a moment, fury and something far more tender battling for authority. the latter won out; he exhaled a long breath, hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you into him once more.

“let’s go, yeah?”

you nodded, following with your arm wrapped around his as he led you to the bike. attached to the back was an extra helmet, which he placed atop your head, adjusting it with a heady stare you couldn’t meet. the helmet smelled like pine and tobacco and vanilla and simon — it was everywhere, and you blissfully drowned in it.

when it was to his satisfaction, he tugged his gloves off and pulled them over your fingers. they were large and loose on you, and they were still warm from his skin. afterward, he pulled his own helmet back on, and held a hand out, helping you onto the back of the machine. large hands adjusted your hips, manhandling you into the right position, and it took everything in you not to make some sort of embarrassing squeak.

“okay,” he murmured, bent over your shoulder. “i’m gonna sit on the front here. you’ll have your arms wrapped around my torso, okay? and you’re not gonna let go, at all. yeah?”

you nodded. “mmhmm.”

“i need to hear your words, love.”

meeting his gaze for the briefest second, you repeated, “i won’t let go.”

“good. i won’t too fast with you, but if y’need me to pullover, just let me know, yeah?”

another nod, and this time he gave you a pointed look. “i’ll let you know,” you stated, lips just barely twitching.

with a gloved hand, simon pat your helmet and mounted the bike. after the briefest moment of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his middle. even through the leather, he was warm; you couldn’t help but burrow a bit further into him. with merely a glance at simon, it was obvious he was built — far more than any other man you knew. to feel it beneath you, though, was an entirely separate thing. he was solid and unyielding but not harsh; a thin layer of fat kept him just soft enough.

“good girl,” he praised, patting the hands you’d entwined in front of his belly. you pressed your eager grin between his shoulders.

the motorcycle rumbled beneath you, and, slowly, he eased the gas, weaving through the tightly-crammed parking lot. just as he was about to exit the lot, he asked, above the exhaust, “you alright?”

“mmhmm,” you hummed, cheek pressed against leather. then, “yes.”

with that, he accelerated onto the road, joining the late-night traffic. the wind whistled in your ears and bit at your exposed legs; you pressed yourself further against him, and his back vibrated with the sound he made in acknowledgment. above, yellowish streetlights warmed the pavement and passing cars. gas stations and markets and various homes passed by in a colourful blur.

at a red light, while you sat still, simon’s hand came down, brushing over your knuckles in slow circles. the movement was featherlight and you wondered if it was unconscious — as soon as it flicked back to green, he moved the hand back to the handles without any acknowledgment.

the ride to his place was closer than it would have been to yours. simon lived in a small, red brick townhouse, far enough from downtown to be quiet, and close enough to access it without any hassle. he could afford better, though he opted for this because ‘it was all he needed.’ a stove to cook on, quiet neighbours, and a bed to sleep in — these were his only requirements.

steering the motorcycle beside the curb, he parked it there, and leaned backward into you. “how was that?” he asked. the world seemed strangely quiet without the hum of the engine.

“fast,” you said lamely, honestly. “not as bad as i thought, but i still prefer cars. they have walls. and heat.”

simon laughed, shaking his head. the sound echoed through his shoulders, which you were still pressed against. “when i get you a jacket i’ll make sure it’s heated.”

the idea of simon purchasing you a leather jacket to ride with him more often — it made your face heat up and your cheeks ache with a restrained grin. you were barely able to get yourself under control before he was sliding off the bike and offering a hand to you. even with his help, maneuvering your way off with mostly-numb legs was a difficult task. you just barely were able to land steady-footed on the pavement. as if simon knew this, he kept a hand on the small of your back as you walked up the steps to his home.

inside, it smelled like simon. pine, english breakfast tea, and something unique to him. the only thing missing was the stench of a cigarette; you knew he refused to smoke inside.

the decorations were minimal yet cozy; it was surprisingly neat. besides the pair he’d just kicked off, the shoes were lined up along the wall. you’d been inside very few times, and never long enough to observe. in the living room, the lamp was still on, bathing the room in warmth. there was a cup of tea on the coffee table, only a few sips left. beside it was a novel you didn’t recognize, dog-eared halfway through.

every detail felt important, like a glimpse into him. had the bar not left you feeling sticky and unkempt, you could have stayed here observing for hours. yet, your shirt felt suffocating across your chest, and the nape of your neck felt sweaty despite the earlier chill.

“um,” you began ungracefully. “do you mind if i use your shower? i feel . . . icky.”

his lips twitched at your choice of words, and he nodded. “yeah. lemme show you the bathroom, sweets.”

following him up the stairs, he directed you to the bathroom, pulling two towels out of his linen-closet. then, he said, “shower’s fuckin’ complicated. too fancy. lemme get it started for you.”

you watched as he ducked in, fiddling with buttons and knobs until steam danced over the glass doors. afterward, he looked back at you, peering at your figure. “that’s not very comfortable.”

you followed his gaze, glancing over your outfit. “well, no.”

he huffed. “i’ll get y’something of mine,” he stated, and made his way toward the door. “i’ll leave it on my bed, yeah? just down the hall. if y’need anything, sweetheart, just shout. i’ll be downstairs.”

giving a soft smile, you nodded and said, “okay. thank you, simon. really.”

“no need. i’d let y’live here if it meant never going to that fuckin’ shitehole again.”

“it wasn’t that bad of a bar.”

he gave you a dead-pan stare. “shite. hole.”

amused, you rolled your eyes, and pushed the door shut. on the other side, you heard a chuckle — the smile that bloomed on your face at the sound was unbidden.

it’d be a lie to say it didn’t feel strange to strip in simon’s house. the fact that only a few walls stood between you sent a strange thrill through you. it was in your best interest to ignore it — your heart and body had incredibly inappropriate reactions to the man, and tonight they seemed to be at an all time high.

he was being kind, nothing else.

once your clothes were peeled off and discarded on the tiled floor, you stepped into the shower. immediately, the warmth enveloped you, melting the tension out of your muscles and washing it away.

simon didn’t have much of a selection when it came to soaps. you were thankful he had a decent face wash, though — at least there were no three-in-ones.

the body wash smelled lovely — that dizzying, woodsy scent native to simon danced alongside the steam in the bathroom as you lathered it across your skin. though it was tempting to stay for longer, you didn’t want to waste too much of his water. you stepped out, and wrapped a shockingly soft towel around your abdomen.

the house was quiet when you stepped out of the restroom, clothes collected in your hands as you padded toward simon’s bedroom. this was the one room you hadn’t yet seen, though you could have predicted quite a bit of it. neat, minimal decorations. a king-sized bed because anything smaller wouldn’t fit him. folded atop were joggers and a sweatshirt.

it wasn’t a surprise you had to roll up the pant legs until they were ridiculously cuffed at the bottom. the sight of yourself in the mirror made you snort; you were drowning in simon’s clothes. butterflies swarmed your tummy, too—you were in his clothes, like you belonged to him. the train of thought was dangerous, you quickly looked away.

exiting his bedroom, you heard a quiet, continuous popping sound. padding down the stairs, you followed it into the kitchen where simon stood, collecting a bit of butter and a salt shaker.

though your steps were quiet, simon’s eyes were on you before you even stepped inside the room. his gaze swept your figure, dwarfed in his clothes, lingering just long enough for you to catch it before he was shifting it away, jaw twitching beneath his balaclava.

after a moment too long, he said, “hey, trouble.” his voice was low. “making popcorn. there’s tea.” he gestured with his chin to the counter where two mugs sat, one of which you’d gifted to him nearly three years ago now. a black cat was painted on the front, a grumpy expression wrinkling it’s little face (“it reminds me of you,” you’d said). in a significantly less interesting mug was your tea, several shades lighter than his black.

“thank you,” you murmured against the lip of the glass, wincing slightly when a sip burned your tongue.

“do you—” he began, taking the popcorn out of the microwave and pouring it into a bowl. “how’s a movie sound?”

you grinned. “it sounds lovely.”

“there’re dvds in the cupboard out there,” he explained, sifting the butter and salt through the popcorn. “take your pick.”

a snort. “why am i not surprised you still use dvds?”

simon raised a brow. “i spend half my life in barracks. netflix is a scam, love.”

“sure,” you said, grinning impishly. “grandpa.”

despite your teasing, his movie collection was vast. a lot of them you hadn’t heard of, though you picked out a familiar one, presenting him with your choice when he joined you in the living room.

“diehard, hm?” he gave a crooked smile. “tis the season, i suppose. you have good taste, sweetheart.”

“i know,” you stated proudly. “but you should keep complimenting me.”

simon huffed a laugh, and placed the disc in the dvd player. “i already feed your ego too much.”

making yourself comfortable on his couch, you agreed, “you really do.” then, when he procured a blanket and draped it across your lap, you snorted. “this isn’t helping.”

placing the popcorn between you, simon shoved a few pieces in his mouth, and said, “sorry, sweets. can’t help it.” his smile was lopsided and boyish, charming. the tv flickered on, basking the room in a blueish glow, before simon clicked ‘play’ on the movie.

together, you watched the opening scenes of the movie. a few jokes were muttered back and forth, but, other than that and the sounds of the film, it was quiet. the popcorn was delicious, lathered in an unhealthy amount of butter and salt, you shovelled it into your mouth.

the tea, too, was lovely. warm and sweet, and, combined with the comfort of simon’s presence, you were sleepily lulling back into the plush couch. with low eyelids, you tried to make yourself comfortable, manoeuvring your body this way and that. huffing, you stared down at the couch, searching for a decent position, when you spotted simon’s lap.

all muscled and soft, he’d make the perfect pillow. would he mind? you sincerely doubted he would. it was innocent, after all. you simply wanted to relax. the only one it might be awkward for was you, and if you could get past your stupid crush for a single hour, it’d be perfect.

after one more moment of doubt, you stretched yourself out and hesitantly laid your head on simon’s lap. beneath you, he tensed for a moment, and you just about thought you’d fucked everything up before he relaxed back into the couch. a large hand made a home on your back, running soothingly up and down your spine.

laying against simon like this — it was so peaceful. your mind hushed to a low hum as you nestled further into him, eyes trained on the screen. his fingers trailed upward, tracing a pattern on the nape of your neck and returning south.

the movie was entertaining, though you felt yourself slipping into sleep. occasionally, simon’s fingers would slip over a ticklish slip of skin, and you’d shiver, causing him to exhale a chuckle.

slowly, as your mind quieted, so did the sound of the film, until it was an unintelligible mumble. the world started and ended with simon’s thighs beneath your cheek, and his hand against your shoulders.

against your eyelids, the screen was bright, lighting them up uncomfortably. huffing sleepily, you pressed your face into simon’s lap, burrowing further in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. beneath you, something firm prodded against your cheek, and at once you were very awake.

simon, suddenly, stiffened. the hand on your back halted, fingers hovering over your skin before dropping away completely. “oh, fuck—christ, sweetheart, i’m so sorry. i’ll drive you home, okay? or—i’ll call a cab, if you’d rather that—”

“simon.” the word was firm enough to catch his attention, quieting him if only for a moment. your mind swam—a mess of confusion, lust, excitement, and need. when it proved too difficult to sift through, too impossible to cohere, you voiced the one word you could manage:

“please.”

though concealed by his balaclava, the reaction simon had was the clearest you’d ever seen. his breath hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly. his gaze, so dilated it was almost entirely black, narrowed on your face. it darted between your features, like he was searching for some sort of hidden meaning in your words, like he didn’t quite believe you.

in retaliation, your hand, trembling only slightly, came up and grazed the too-large tent in his trousers. immediately simon’s hand gripped your wrist, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling sharply.

“kid—” he said then, and the word was wrapped in molten heat. it was gravelly in a way you’d never heard before, a rumble in his chest. goosebumps broke out along your skin. “don’t start something you’ll regret.”

“i’m not,” you stated bravely, daringly. you adjusted your position, only to face him better, and he did not let go of your wrist. you hoped he couldn’t feel the rapid thrum of your pulse beneath his thumb. “please, simon. i want this. i’ve wanted this.”

that snagged on something in his brain; caught his attention and held it. he stared at you, intense as ever. behind his gaze was a dilemma; a war you could only see traces of. after a few suffocatingly long moments spent beneath heavy tension, something won out, and the grip on your wrist loosened.

immediately, with years of want behind your touch, you grazed your hand over his clothed length once more. the breath in your chest stuttered when you grasped it, feeling just how big he was beneath your fingers.

a sound rumbled in simon’s chest; a groan of sorts. exploratorily, you tilted your head down, holding his burning gaze as you brushed your lips over his trousers.

“fuck,” simon cursed, hand grasping the back of your skull. he didn’t push or move you at all; he simply held it there, like he couldn’t bare to not be touching you himself.

the button of his trousers was difficult to undo with shaking hands, but you managed, pulling down his fly barely seconds after. with uneven breaths, you delved beneath the band of his briefs, pulling him up and out of the fabric.

the sight of simon’s cock was enough to get you off on it’s own; too thick for one of your hands to wrap around it, long enough that it bobbed against his shirt as you stared, too entranced for embarrassment. he was uncut, and there was a mound of curly, dirty-blond hair at the base, trimmed just enough to stay out of the way. you exhaled, breath ghosting along his length. the grip simon had on you tightened

again, you looked up at him. simon’s gaze was unwavering, as if looking away was some sin he was too pious to commit. it was then, as he gazed down at you with a burning gaze, that he seemed to read something in your expression. a pleading, a search for guidance. whatever it was, it had him speaking. “go ahead, sweet girl. get y’mouth on me.”

like his words triggered some sort of instinctual response in your body, your mouth was immediately moving. you licked a long, languid stripe from base to tip, revelling in the warm, salty taste. then, your lips wrapped around the head, suckling slightly before descending another inch.

“fuck,” he cursed again, hand moving in soothing circles against the back of your skull. “good fuckin’ girl. such a good listener, aren’t you?“

the words pulled a whimper from your throat. you released his dick for the briefest moment, a string of saliva connecting you, before wrapping your lips around him again, hollowed cheeks taking as much as you could manage. the fact that it was only half was disappointing.

“christ, angel. y’mouth is — heaven. fuck.” the choked sound of his voice only emphasized his point. when you made another noise, something between a whimper and a whine, he chuckled, and said, “like me talking to you like that? telling you how good you are? fuck, y’re so sweet. my sweet girl.”

moaning against him, you attempted to take more. betrayed by your gag reflex, you pulled back, choking, eyes glistening with tears.

simon cooed, hands cupping your jaw and thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a tear that’d escaped. “oh, angel, y’don’t need to take so much so fast. you’re doing so well. lemme show you. is that okay? can i help you?”

swallowing the excess drool in your mouth, you nodded, and his eyes crinkled with a smile. then, he was pulling his balaclava up, the seam stretched over his nose as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“words, love.” though his voice was soft, it was a command. “thought i taught you this already.”

“please,” you whispered. “show me how,” his face was close enough to see the thin wrinkles around his eyes, the soft dusting of a five o’clock shadow over his jaw. “wanna make you feel good.”

simon’s lips curved before they pressed against yours, all gentle and soft like you’d break if he were any rougher. it was inebriating to be treated so reverently, hands holding your jaw like you were something precious. simon made you feel like you were.

his lips moved languidly. he took control of it easily, guiding your lips with his own. he didn’t escalate it, didn’t shove his tongue into your mouth like so many other boys had. he kissed like he found pleasure in this alone.

arms tangling around his neck, you gently ran your nails over the nape of his neck, where fabric met skin. simon groaned, softly nipping at your bottom lip. you giggled.

as much as you adored this — you’d kiss simon for hours if he’d let you — you were getting impatient. you’d gotten a taste for him, and you were quickly becoming addicted.

when you pulled away, he let you, stare darting between your kiss-swollen lips and glazed-over eyes. he watched your gaze trail back down to his crotch, and chuckled quietly.

“eager thing, aren’t you?” he questioned, leaning in to press one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. “go ahead, trouble.”

you didn’t need to be told twice — keeping your head on his lap, you laid out on your belly, across the couch. his hand found your head again, and this time, he gently guided you forward, allowing your lips to find his cock once more.

“that’s it, love,” he murmured. he had you stay like that for a while, suckling contentedly on the head and lapping your tongue over his slit.

“if y’need to come up for air, tap my thigh, alright?” he instructed. you nodded, before correcting yourself, allowing him to slip from your mouth only to voice, “okay.”

simon exhaled, the sound shaking towards the end as your long laved the underside of the head. “good fuckin’ girl.”

though you’d blown guys before, this — simon — was different. something about him, his scent or the sound of his voice or simply his presence, created a haze that had your mind going cloudy. with your lips wrapped tightly around his cock, your world started and ended with simon riley.

little by little, he inched you down his cock. never too quick and never too much. in that moment, he seemed to know your body better than you. always stopping just before your gag reflex was triggered, just before your limit was reached.

“look at you, breathing outta your nose. you’re a natural.”

your breathy moan vibrated against simon’s cock; his thighs tensed, though he didn’t buck his hips or push you down. he continued his languid pace, inching you down only when you could handle it.

“so good,” he muttered. at this point you’d taken more than half of of him. breathing steadily out of your nose, you used a spare hand to grip the remaining length, pumping it in time with your mouth. “fuck. ah, angel, ‘m gonna cum if you keep tha’ up.”

spurred on, you hollowed your cheeks and took another inch, blinking away tears. his pelvis barely a few centimeters from your nose, now, and with one last deep breath, you swallowed back the rest of his cock.

“fucking christ—!” simon swore, pulling you off of him as gently as he could manage. you sputtered, coughing and sniffling as tears ran freely from your eyes.

“oh, none of that now, love,” he cooed, big hands cradling your jaw as he kissed away your tears.

“did i do something wrong?” you asked. your voice was raw.

“no, no. of course not, love. you could never do anything wrong,” he stated, pressing a lingering kiss to your hairline. then, he chuckled, warm breath ghosting along your skin. “‘m not as young as i used to be, pretty girl. ‘n if i’m finishing tonight, i want it to be in this sweet cunt.” to make his point, he cupped you over your panties, which had become embarrassingly wet over the last bit. sensitive, you whimpered, curling further into him and grinding down. “how’s that sound, hm? y’gonna let me fill y’up?”

vehemently, you nod, gripping the wrist that’d snuck up your skirt for support. “please. yeah, yeah. i want that, si.”

with shaking hands, you gripped the bottom of your top in an attempt to yank it off. swiftly, simon stopped you, one hand large enough to catch the both of yours. “mm-mm. if ‘m gonna fuck you, ‘m gonna do it proper. y’deserve better than a shitty couch, dove.”

in the next breath, you were swept up into simon’s arms, legs wrapped tightly around his torso. a high-pitched squeak escaped you and tapered into a laugh as he carried you up the stairs, towards his bedroom.

“such a gentleman,” you joked, toying with the collar of his shirt.

“i try’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your palm when it cupped his jaw.

after closing the door behind him, simon gently dropped you on the bed. you giggled as you bounced, bracing yourself on your elbows and looking up at him. for a moment, simon stood, gaze locked on your frame, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“fucking hell,” he cursed, finally. “you’re a dream.”

“a dream?” you echoed, grin simpering into a smirk. “y’been dreamin’ about me, riley?”

in a single, fluid motion, simon tugged his shirt off. he was a mass of muscle, age just barely softening his edges. tattoos ran up his arms and across most of his chest, where hair the same shade as his happy trail grew.

“‘course i have,” he answered, like it was obvious. then, he kicked off his slippers and fit himself between your legs, arms bracing himself just inches above you. “making me act like a fucking teenager again, wakin’ up to wet boxers.”

the thought of simon having wet dreams about you made your head spin. dumbly, you blinked up at him, and found yourself unimpressed with the balaclava still covering the upper-half of his face.

“can i?” you asked, voice quiet enough you wondered if he’d even be able to hear it. his small smile, though, gave him away. he nodded.

little by little, you rolled the offending material upward, revealing every mesmerizing inch of his face. tossing it to the side, you took a long moment to admire him: the long blond lashes, the sloping scars, the light spattering of freckles, his crooked nose.

“y’so pretty,” you stated, honestly. rose blossomed across his cheeks and nose, leaving you with a wide grin. simon pressed a kiss behind your ear, though you had a sneaking suspicion it was to hide his face.

“think that’s supposed t’be my line, love,” simon replied, gently nipping your throat. as you giggled, he continued downward, kisses growing sloppier as they reached your collarbones. then, he pulled back, fingers slipping over the hem of your shirt. he met your gaze for a brief second, searching for the permission you’d always give him, and tugged it off.

left in only the lacy scrap the lingerie shop deemed a bra, simon stated openly at you. this time, it was your turn to squirm, hands instinctively reaching to hide your face. easily, he caught your wrists.

“no. no. i wanna see you,” he said, squeezing your arms once. “cover your face and i stop, alright?”

huffing, you kept your hands at your side, and he twitched his lips. afterward, he smoothed large hands across your skin, over your stomach and ribs, cupping your chest. “so gorgeous.” he squeezed. “fuckin’ hate the idea of you going out in somethin’ like this when i’m not with you. no more. if y’wearin’ this, it’s for me, yeah? no one else.”

biting your lip, you nodded, not trusting your voice enough to speak. simon disagreed with your decision, seeing as he pinched your side. “no one else,” you affirmed.

“good girl.” he drew out the words, eyes trained on your chest, before he was reaching behind and unclamping your bra with his fingers. sliding it off, he tossed it haphazardly into the growing pile of clothes on his floor.

simon wasted no time in resuming his assault on your skin, leaving a kiss here and a bite there. he swirled his tongue over your tits, paying special attention to your nipples, playing with one while he had his mouth on the other. little marks littered your saliva-soaked skin when he reached the top of your skirt.

one more glance at you and he was tugging it down, along with the flimsy nylons you’d worn. swiftly, he pressed an open-mouthed kissed to your cloth-covered cunt, easily keeping your hips down when they tried to buck.

the air was cold against your soaked cunt when he peeled back the fabric, pulling it over your ankles and discarding it on the floor. as had become his habit, simon took a moment to admire you. eyes blazing and turning the skin beneath it warm. your hands fisted the blankets as you resisted the urge to cover up.

“so pretty,” he said, moving backward down the bed and climbing off it. then, he tugged you with him, earning a tiny yelp, before kneeling at the end of it. “wanted t’taste you for fucking ever. y’gonna let me, sweetheart? hm? you gonna let me taste your sweet cunt?”

nodding, you squeezed your eyes shut and breathed, “please, simon.”

his fingers, warm and steady, trailed up your thighs, pulling a shiver from you. “spread your legs a little wider for me, baby. there y’go. good.” then, slowly, they inched towards your centre, spreading you open. you didn’t have to look to know he was staring.

all at once, his tongue was on you, licking a long stripe up your folds and over your clit. you moaned embarrassingly loudly, trailing off into a long whine when he didn’t let up. your fingers knitted themselves in his blond waves, tugging as gently as you could manage. he groaned in approval, the sound vibrating through your cunt and sending your back arching.

“fuck! simon,” you yelped. his hands held your legs apart when they attempted to close, overwhelmed by pleasure.

he slipped away from your heat only to say, “keep sayin’ my name.”

whining, you pushed his head back into you, and he chuckled, resuming his ministrations on your cunt. simon was talented with his tongue — something jealous burned you at the thought of how he got so good. the thought was quickly scrubbed from your brain, though, when he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, circling it once, twice, before descending again.

“please,” you whined, though you didn’t know what you were asking for. his pace had slowed, now, sloppily making out with your cunt like it was something he could worship. “simon . . . ”

the pleasure was inescapable; your body was torn between grinding down on his mouth and trying to wriggle away from it. it didn’t help that he was doing it so leisurely; tongue moving languidly through your folds and over your clit like it was for his pleasure instead of yours. that thought got you off all the more.

your legs trembled, winding around simon’s head and damn near suffocating him — not that he cared. when you glanced down, he was watching you, nose shiny as it brushed against your clit. simon smirked — you could feel the movement against you.

had you been in any other state, the sound you made as you tumbled over the edge might have embarrassed you. as it was, though, you didn’t have the mind for anything other than pleasure as your back bowed off the bed and your legs tightened around simon’s skull.

he was saying something — you only understood bits of it, but it sounded like a mindless litany of praise. “there you are, there we go. so good, so fucking good.”

he paired each praise with a kiss to your cunt until you were trembling from overstimulation, just pushing past the edge of too much. simon climbed up the bed and pressed wet kisses across your face; when he licked into your mouth and you tasted yourself, you moaned.

“you’re a fuckin’ vision, sweetheart. never knew you’d cum so pretty. y’gonna let me see it again? hm? y’gonna let me fuck you, baby?”

you were nodding before the words were even out of his mouth, snaking your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. without breaking it for longer than a few seconds, simon moved the two of you further up the bed until your head rested against his surprisingly soft pillows.

simon groaned appreciatively when your nails scraped against his skull. you grinned, and breathed, “you like pain just as much as me.”

simon chuckled, biting your chin. “maybe. when it’s you.”

“what was that you said earlier? something ‘bout feeding my ego?”

another laugh, and he joked, “i’m too far gone, now, i think. i’m just here to serve.”

“prove it.” your lips curved into a lust-drunk smile. “fuck me.”

with one last peck against your lips, simon smirked, and said, “yes ma’am.”

he leaned over you, then, tugging open the creaky drawer to his bedside table and fishing around. “shit.”

“hm?” you hummed, following his gaze to the foil packet between his fingers.

“‘s fuckin’ expired.” simon’s brow furrowed, and he brought the packet closer, squinting. you grabbed it from him, tossing it on the floor.

“i don’t care,” you said, probably stupidly, but the thought of not fucking simon right now had something foul twisting in your belly. “want you.”

running broad hands over your legs, simon gazed down at you, like your expression would say otherwise. you rolled your eyes. “i’m clean. i’m assuming you’re clean, if your condoms are expired.” simon pinched your side, and you giggled. ”please? want you to fuck me, simon.”

simon exhaled, and shook his head, smirking. “yeah?” he asked, fingers trailing over your belly. “y’want me to fuck you? cum in this little cunt?”

“yeah, yeah. please. want that.”

his lips press against yours again, hands continuing their journey downward until he was exploring your sensitive folds. you whimpered, quietly, but simon caught the sound and tutted. “i know, sweets. but i’ve gotta stretch you. don’t wanna hurt you, right? not tonight.”

lubing his fingers up with your slick, he started with his middle, circling your hole before slowly pushing inward. your earlier orgasm had relaxed you already, and he was able to add a second in no time. he explored for a moment, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them upward until he found that spongy spot that had your head rolling back in pleasure.

“there it is,” he said, and though your eyes were squeezed shut, you felt his smirk against your skin; heard it in his voice. “that feel good, pretty?”

the answering nod you gave was shaky and sudden, hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. “fuck me, si. please—want your cock.”

“i know, i know. one more finger, how about that? then we can give you what you need.”

with a groan, you nodded, and sent him a short glare. he snorted, and muttered, “so impatient.”

“been waiting for fucking years,” you argued, though your point might’ve been lost in the quiver of your voice. “‘m allowed to be a little impatient.”

“years, hm?” his third finger prodded at your entrance. “guess i should hurry, then. poor thing.”

the way you dug your nails into his skin was both in pleasure and retaliation. three thick fingers pumped slowly in and out of you, curling in a way that had your thighs shaking.

finally, he slipped the fingers from you, the whine you gave turning into a moan when he plunged them into his mouth instead, savouring every bit of you. “so fuckin’ sweet.”

when simon’s fat tip ran through your folds, you tensed, and questioned if three fingers would really be enough. “simon . . . ”

though his voice was strained, he stopped, glancing up at you. “yeah, sweetheart?”

“i don’t—” his tip ran over your clit ”—fuck, i don’t know if you’ll fit.”

simon tsked, the hand not controlling his cock coming up to brush the hair out of your face. “don’t gimme that, sweets. you can take it, i know you can.” he kissed your jaw. “i’ll make it fit, yeah? how’s that?”

shakily, you exhaled, meeting his gaze. truly, you didn’t know if it’d wavered from your face all night. his eyes were so sure — you could do nothing but believe him. it’d fit. you nodded.

“yeah, yeah. there’s my girl.” again, his lips were on yours, tongue licking into your mouth. minty toothpaste, tea, and cigarettes overwhelmed your senses as his thick tip pushed inside, swallowing every moan you gave.

when he’d made it a few inches, simon pulled back. “how’s that?” he questioned. “y’okay, lovey? want me to keep going?”

you couldn’t nod fast enough. there was a bit of pain, but the pleasure of the stretch won out easily. tangling your hands in his hair, you yanked simon back down for a long, messy kiss. really, it was more so a clash of teeth and tongue and heavy breathing than a kiss, but you digress.

by the time simon was fully sheathed inside you, it felt like he was in your fucking lungs. he gave you as much time as you needed to adjust, though the way his fists clenched and unclenched beside your head proved how greatly he wanted to move. digging one of the legs wrapped around him further into his skin, you urged him to.

“fucking christ,” he groaned. simon dropped his head for a moment, hot breath fanning over your neck as he slowly rocked in and out. “y’so fucking tight.”

“m’not tight, you’re just huge,” you argued, a furrow in your brow. simon bit the juncture between your throat and shoulder—you giggled, the sound delirious.

propping himself up on his forearms once more, simon slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip inside of you, before swiftly thrusting back in, setting a harsh, steady pace.

little high-pitched sounds came from your chest with every thrust, cock abusing that spongy spot inside you that lit fireworks behind your eyelids. with the way you were clawing at his back, you’d be surprised if simon didn’t look like he was mauled by a wildcat tomorrow.

“so good. gripping me like a fuckin’ vice. swear it was like you were made for me,” he breathed, teeth grazing over your ear.

sense had long since left you — you only nodded, murmuring back, “for you, f’you.”

maybe the way his cock kissed your cervix would have you cursing tomorrow, maybe the way your back bowed with pleasured tension would have you hunching over in the morning — you didn’t care. right now, your world consisted of simon’s searing brown eyes and the toe-curling pleasure he supplied.

“feels so good.” your words were breathy, punctuated with a tug to his hair.

“yeah?” he questioned, smiling lopsidedly. “good. gonna fucking ruin you. you’ll never be able to take another cock without thinking of me—thinking of how good i made you feel.”

shaking your head, you whines, “no. no one else. only you.”

simon growled, thrusting especially hard as he licked and sucked at your throat. “yeah. you’re mine, aren’t you? my girl.”

“yours,” you nodded. “‘m yours, f’rever.”

simon groaned out a slew of curses, cock twitching inside of you. one hand reached down toy with your clit, making quick, slippery circles. “want you to cum again, baby. ‘m not gonna last much longer and — fuck — i need t’see it again.”

you’d already been dancing along the edge — his thick fingers and raspy words were a harsh push, leaving you dangling by one hand.

your eyes rolled back into your head, and his other hand was swiftly gripping your chin, gently shaking you. “on me, love, keep y’r eyes on me.”

with great effort, you kept your hazy gaze on his face, which was twisted in the effort to stave off his orgasm. you whimpered, and murmured, “say it again. say i’m yours. please.”

“oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck for a moment before finding your eyes again. “you’re mine, ain’t ya? my sweet girl. yeah. an’ i’m yours — always will be.”

the second the words left his mouth, you tumbled over the edge. your entire body shook, curving inward and wrapping itself around simon like it was trying to burrow inside him. in the haze of it, you heard simon shout, before warmth was spilling inside your cunt, filling you up to the fucking brim. if simon wasn’t simon, you were sure the grip you had on him would’ve broken something by now.

when you came back to, the world was quiet — soft breathing echoed through your ears, his and yours indistinguishable from each other. simon’s head was buried in your neck, the weight of him just bridging the edge of uncomfortable. it was bliss.

eventually, he rolled over, cock pulling out with an equally disgusting and enticing squelch. his spend leaked out of you, dirtying his sheets. neither of you minded, it seemed — he easily pulled you across his chest, pressing his lips to your warm forehead.

“y’with me, lovie?” his voice was barely more than a murmur.

you hummed, hand moving upward to trace over his sweat-soaked chest. “i think so.”

a quiet laugh vibrated in his chest, breath dancing across your face. you smiled in turn, crooking your neck to gaze at him. keeping in theme with the rest of the night, simon was already staring at you — his eyes seemed to shine when they found yours, and his lips curled up in a rare smile. you were met with the embarrassing urge to take a picture.

“you’re a mess,” he stated, chuckling quietly as his eyes darted across your face and body.

narrowing your eyes, you pinched his pec, and his chuckle became a laugh. “a beautiful mess, sweetheart. ‘s the prettiest you’ve ever looked, i promise.”

you rolled your eyes, and argued, “‘s your fault.” then, attempted to sit up — though his strong grip on your shoulder kept you down. simon frowned. “where d’you think you’re going?”

“i need to pee,” you stated, and he let you up with a huff. “then i need to fucking shower, again.”

simon made a sound. “how ‘bout i run you a bath, hm? lemme do the work.”

smiling softly, you glanced back at him. he took your hand that lingered on his chest and brought it to his mouth, pressing kisses over your knuckles. “that’d be lovely.”

simon stood, and when you looked over him, you smiled. hair mussed, lips swollen, skin glazed in sweat — he was just as much of a mess as you. in a single movement, simon swept you into his arms. with a yelp, you clung to him, and he carried you, bridal-style, into the bathroom.

placing you on the lip of the bathtub, simon left for only a moment to dig through his linen closet, and returned with a wash cloth. after running it under warm water in the sink, he helped you up once more and gently ran it between your legs.

afterward, while you used the restroom, simon ran the bath, using that intoxicating body-wash as bubble bath. spotting his back, which was covered in bright-red scratches, you giggled, feeling only a little bad.

“i’d say sorry for y’back, but really i look no better,” you stated. hickies and bite-marks littered your skin, decorating your neck, chest, and thighs.

snorting, simon moved to look in the mirror, eyes tracing the pinkish abrasions trailing from shoulders to spine. “i’ll wear ‘em with pride.”

once the tub had filled, steam dancing around the mound of bubbles, simon, again, helped you up. his skin was warm, and if the bath wasn’t so enticing, you’d be tempted to stay here, pressed against him.

easily, he lifted you up and into the bath, following you not long afterward. it was a shock he could fit all of his limbs in the tub, even moreso when you could fit between his legs. it was a bit squishy, but you couldn’t have traded it for anything — laying against his chest while his hands ran up and down your body. thighs, stomach, chest, arms — he touched you softly, reverently, lips pressing behind your ear.

“did you mean it?” you asked. the quiet hum of your voice seemed loud in the silence of the room.

“mean what, love?”

swallowing, you played with his fingers, and supplied, “that ‘m yours. that you’re mine.”

simon exhaled, and you could feel the small curve of his lips against the back of your neck. “i meant it.”

435 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 17 days

Text

Chapter 1 : Forbidden Bond

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: Language, violence, physical abuse, traumatic childhood, Gojo being a jerk

Next Chapter ->

His usual so unbothered eyes grow wider and wider with each passing second, watch in slow motion how this tiny human being he’s never seen before draws closer to him. Step by step, not paying attention to the stinging fact that she’ll run straight into him. He couldn’t care less, though.

That smile.

Has he seen you before? No, he would have remembered for sure. There wasn’t a single moment in his still young life that made Gojo Satoru gaze at a smile twice, that made him wonder about the name and voice behind it. But seeing you like this, laughing to yourself so unmoved by your surroundings leaves him pondering.

Who is this girl?

He doesn’t get the chance to think about it any further. Like in slow motion, you trip over his feet first before dragging him along with you onto the hot tarmac, tiny stones digging themselves into the palms of his hands.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even look out, I…I’m so clumsy!”

“It’s okay...”

No, it’s not. Why weren’t you paying attention to where you’re walking, how dare you to run him over – him, the pride of the Gojo clan? Now he’s all dirty, his pants probably sliced open.

But instead of complaining, he simply watches how you lift yourself off the ground so awkward that you almost trip right back on top of him, brushing the dirt off the dark blue kimono you’re wearing.

“Now you’re all dirty because of me”, you sigh with a pout.

Your voice. It matches your appearance perfectly, the innocent gleam in your eyes, the way your laughter sounded earlier. Angelic, hypnotizing, so melodious that he urges to hear you talk again.

“Let me help you back up!”

You stretch out your tiny hand in front of his and out of instinct, he grabs it. How is it possible that his palm seems to swallow yours whole? You have to be around his age, an inch or two smaller. But his hands…

Your hands…

You let go way too early.

“I was actually on my way home and got distracted by that dog over there. It got so happy when I laughed so I couldn’t stop and then you came and-“

“Do you ever stop talking?”

His cold interruption catches you off guard while he shoves both hands in the pocket of his hoodie. That boy…You’ve never seen him before around here. Sure, you would have remembered those bright blue eyes and white hair. Where does he come from? Why does he look so different? All those questions piling up inside your head.

Where were you even going?

“(y/n)?”

Her cold voice makes your blood freeze in an instant, widened eyes not daring to look behind you. Why is she here? You aren’t late, did nothing wrong…did you?

“Who’s that?”, the boy in front of you questions.

“(Y/N) ZENIN!”

You swallow hard, the tone in your nanny’s voice making you realize what will happen next. Suddenly you don’t care about the boy with the bright blue eyes or the happy dog anymore.

“You…You’re a Zenin?”

He can’t believe his ears, orbs studying you up and down. Of course, he heard about your family, about the stinging fact that he should keep a safe distance from you. Out of all big jujutsu families, the Zenin clan is the worst with its members being as cold as ice. His teachers warned him, parents literally begged him to keep himself away from anything that comes from this family. And that includes you as well, apparently.

“A Zenin…”, he mumbles under his breath.

You look nothing like their description, though.

His voice fades into the back of your mind. All you feel is thick fear crawling up your veins, the dark foreshadowing making your limbs ache already.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing here with this brat!?”

Her cold hand grabs your tiny arm roughly and forces you backwards so harsh that you almost fall over again.

“I ran into him-”, you desperately try to explain yourself.

“You…You are that Gojo kid, aren’t you? The honoured one…”

“And you’re a nobody.”

Gojo.

Your eyes widen in sheer horror. If there’s one thing your father told you over and over, it was staying away from members of the Gojo clan.

“Especially Gojo Satoru. Don’t you dare to even talk to him or you’ll feel my anger.”

“I didn’t know it was him, I was on my way home when I-“

“Quiet.”

A ruthless slap right in your face sends you onto the ground all over again, blood squinting out your tiny nose immediately. You…You did something unforgivable, something your father will punish you for. Shivers haunt your whole body, thick fear almost taking your sight. One last time your glossy eyes dart towards the boy with the unbothered blue orbs that now show a hint of disturbance.

-8 years later-

“Look what we have here, Suguru! There’s that dirty brat from the Zenin clan!”

“I don’t think you should call her like that…”

“I smelled your arrogance miles away, douchebag”, you mutter under your breath.

There he stands. Probably a few inches taller than the last time you saw him but still with the same dumb smirk plastered on his dirty face. He looks horribly good, arrogance dripping from every pore of his body. Oh, words can’t describe how much hatred you hold for that boy, how much willpower it costs you to not wipe him from the surface of this earth in an instant.

“Be nice to me, (y/n). After all I’m a special grade while you’re a lousy grade 1”, he bites back at you.

“Don’t make me launch another bit of Phobia Projection your way. I’ll never forget the way you cried like a baby.”

A cursed technique rooted in the dark arts of Jujutsu, a technique you learned by your grandfather by the age of 12. Those who wield this technique have the ability to delve into the depths of their target's psyche, extracting and manifesting their worst fears into reality. Through manipulation of spectral energy, the user projects vivid illusions that evoke intense sensations of terror and anxiety, effectively trapping their victim in a nightmarish realm tailored to their deepest fears. This technique not only inflicts psychological torment but can also paralyze the victim with fear, rendering them vulnerable to further attacks. It is a formidable and sinister ability that exploits the vulnerabilities of the human mind, leaving a lasting impression of dread long after the encounter has ended.

And made none other than Gojo Satoru break down in front of your feet.

“You’ll cry as well when I’m done with you, little bitch.”

Gojo builds himself up in front of you before Geto is able to stop him, glimmering eyes staring at you filled with nothing but hatred.

“Want applause for using a dark art on me? You’re nothing but a pathetic little girl that got slapped by her parents a little too often. And even though they trained you like there’s no tomorrow, your still not good enough to face me.”

His words hit you with full force, flood your mind with memories you tried to avoid so desperately. Out of instinct, you grab him by his throat and thrust him into the grass underneath, dig his flawless white hair into the dirt. If there’s one thing your family was right about, it was Gojo Satoru.

“I fucking hate you, Gojo. You’re nothing but a waste of space, just like your whole pathetic clan”, you hiss through gritted teeth, voice dripping in venom.

“My pathetic clan? Your family roams around and kills innocent people, (y/n). Who the hell are you to judge, huh? You’re not even strong enough to even talk to me”, he barks in reverse.

“Why does it always have to end like this between you two? Get off him, (y/n).”

Geto’s firm hands grab your shoulders and yank you backwards in order to create distance between Gojo and yourself while you can’t catch your breath.

Your deadly orbs still glare at him, blood pulsates through your veins so rapidly that you feel like exploding any given minute. He has some fucking nerve, talking about your past like that. Him, who’s nothing but a spoiled brat. Him, who’s gifting just by being born. Him, with nothing but immense powers and a pretty face.

“Next time you’re getting so close to me, I’ll kill your ass without thinking twice”, you spit at him from afar, Geto holding you back with all his strength.

“I love to see ya try little girl!”

“Come on, (y/n). Just turn around and leave, this is senseless. You’re just hurting each other.”

Suguru’s calm voice has always been the only thing that kept you from scratching those bright blue orbs out of his eyeballs. You allow your eyes to rest for a brief second, your heartbeat to calm down. Your family told you to stay away from him, to be better than him and forced you to attend Jujutsu High. Why does it have so damn hard to make them happy, to show your father that you’re worthy? How are you supposed to stay away from him when he’s around you all the time?

Without gifting him a single look, you turn on your heel and simply walk away.

Training. A training session is exactly what you need right now.

“Don’t you dare to shout after her, Satoru”, Geto warns his best friend right when he takes a deep breath in.

“I really don’t get it. All that hate just because your families don’t get along?”

“You don’t get it, Suguru.”

“What makes you hate (y/n) so much?”

Satoru can’t believe his ears, the sheer question of his best friend seeming like an insult. Why would he even like you? You with your stupid pretty face, you with those remarkable eyes that shook him to his core when he first saw you, you with that laugh…When was the last time he heard you laugh?

He shakes his head violently. Why would he even care about something so stupid?

“Cause she’s a Zenin brat”, Satoru replies monotone.

You are his enemy, the biggest threat of his family, hunting after his future. You deserve nothing but his hatred, nothing but disinterest. You are the devil himself. Yes, your sheer presence on this earth is enough reason to hate you.

“Didn’t you tell me she was quite nice when you met her as a child?”

“I never said that”, Satoru mumbles under his breath immediately.

Enough of all that bullshit, all that talking about your dumbass. It’s not like you deserve his attention anyway.

“C’mon, let’s grab something to eat.”

That was the first chapter babes, hope you enjoyed! It would mean the world if you take your time to tell me what you think and how you liked it so far! 🤍

Tags: @whereismysane @risuola @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @livmarauder @sapphireandange @madaqueue

251 notes · View notes

anyonewannasteponme · 5 months

Text

Summary: Your marriage with Aemond had been one of honour, not of love, yet when subjected to your husbands cruelty upfront you cant help but ache for a way to take your revenge.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol Usage while Pregnant, Incest

Authors Note: I feel like Aemond is lowkey out of character and I kind of hate this but oh well.

You sat awestruck, in shock at the vile accusations your own husband had just made not only against your brothers but yourself as well. You held back tears as you all but waddled over to where your step father held back Jace. "I'm sorry." You whsipered to Daemon. Your step father just gave you a pitying look as you caressed your heavily pregnant belly. Your emotions were already running rampant, you couldn’t believe Aemond had been so bold as to dishonour you in front of his own family. You didn’t just feel humiliated you were furious.

Aemond caught your eye from across the room, where he stood with his brother and sister. You could barely hold his glance, simply turning away and storming out of the dining hall tears brimming in your eyes. Please. You thought selfishly. Please come after me. Because even after the insult he had dealt you and your family tonight, you still wished for your uncles comfort. Craved it. Of course as was expected of Aemond, he did not.

When you were younger you had imagined it to be customary for husbands and wives to sleep in the same bed, now you knew that was not the case. Aside from a few moments of passion, of which Aemond never spent the night you and he had kept entirely seperate chambers throughout your marriage. That usually made you saddened, wishing and wondering what your marriage could have been like if you had simply not been born a bastard. Because of course that’s why Aemond had disrespected you. He saw you as less than, nothing more than a duty he owed to the realm as the second born son.

Tonight, you must admit you felt relieved that you didn’t share chambers with Aemond, knew you wouldn’t be able to control your rage if met with him directly.

A knock sounded at your door, startling you slightly, you prayed to the old gods and the new that it wasn't Aemond. You arose overcome with a sense of trepidation as if you were moving in slow motion, if it was Aemond what would you do? What would he do? You opened the door.

"Aegon?" You whispered, slightly taken aback. He simply grinned raising his left arm, in his hand a bottle of wine, he shook the bottle slightly as if hoping to get it through your thick skull that he wasn't here to chastise, he was simply here to... drink? "It’s Arbor Gold" He said. "Your favourite... now can I come in or are you going to keep me confined to the doorway." You cleared your throat stepping aside and allowing your uncle to enter your bedroom.

"Aegon if Aemond-" Aegon interrupted you by putting his finger to your lips and letting out a condescending assortment of hushes. "Aemond never did like to share, fear not niece I haven't come here tonight to take advantage of your delicate state, I simply come to offer a sense of comfort. From one person that has been sincerely fucked by this family to another. "

You didn't understand, Aegon had taken as much pleasure in your public humiliation as Aemond and yet you didn't open your mouth to argue knowing Aegon's temper you would take this act of goodwill with little complaints unless you wanted to risk waking the dragon. "I appreciate that." You responded. "But you know I can't drink this right? The Maester insisted."

"The Maester is a cunt." Aegon replied simply, pouring himself a glass that resided on the small table you oft took your breakfast at when you weren't expeted to be publicly feasting with your family. "Truly Aegon, if Aemond finds out-"

"What are you so afraid of." Aegon laughed, turning towards you, two glasses in hand. "My brother may have trained with the sword but I doubt he would turn his hand to his own lady wife."

Truly you didn't have a clue what Aemond would do and that was what frightened you. Yet you must admit a wave of excitement went through you at the thought. Your husband, who rarely showed you any emotions at all, losing his composure, the idea was intoxicating. You took the glass from Aegon, sitting yourself down beside him on the carpet at the foot of your bead. "I do have seats you know."

"Fuck seats."

You frowned. "You curse an awful lot for a prince of the realm." Aegon smiled at that. "And your awfully prudent, which is certainly not befitting of a bastard born daughter." His words hit where they were supposed to and you shut your mouth taking a gulp from your glass of wine. There was a fluttering in your womb at that, you thought nothing of it, treating it as a mere coincidence that came with how far along you were in your pregnancy. Yet you still placed a hand on your lower belly giving a comforting caress to the babe in your womb. "Does it ail you?" Aegon asked, staring down at your stomach in what may have been awe. "No." You responded. "Didn't you have Helaena to ask these questions to during her pregnancy?"

"I was hardly around during Helaena's pregnancy and I was most certainly not at the birthing." Those words saddened you. Your Aunt had been one of the only people in this court who had shown you kindness since your betrothal to Aemond and your Mother and Brothers taking their leave to return to Dragonstone. The thought of her laboring alone hurt your heart. Maybe that's because it could very likely be yourself in a few months, Aemond would most certainly provide you no comfort.

The night escalated from there, you had hardly meant to drink as much as you did but Aegon kept pouring you glass after glass until you were both shattered, giggling messes simply lying on the floor and complaining about how your lives had ended up the way they did.

"I always wanted to go to the north, marry a Stark." You whispered. "I hear they value honor above all else."

Aegon frowned. "Do you not think my brother honorable?"

"No!" You replied, flustered. "That's not what I meant." Yet you couldn't form a coherent thought or come up with a way to defend yourself courtesy of the alcohol. Aegon simply laid his head against your shoulder beginning to doze.

You found yourself relaxing too. Until your door swung open and a visibly irritated Alicent burst in. "Aegon." She growled. "Wake up you fool." She stood above her eldest son looking exceptionally regal despite her grievances. But Alicent wasn't who you were focusing on. No it was your husband, a stony, cool look washed over his face as his took in the compromising position you were in with his brother. Alicent had managed to prop Aegon up and began leading him out of the room, not before shooting you a look filled with malice. Aemond closed your bedroom door and locked it. That act alone sent shivers down your spine and a strange feeling began to well in your lower belly, accompanied by a neediness you had never felt before.

Aemond cleared his throat, clearly aiming to appear composed, yet you saw through his illusion; through his clenched jaw and blazing eyes, it was clear he was furious. He opened his mouth appearing unsure how to start a conversation with you. "Did he touch you." He began, getting straight to the point. "No of course not." You responded immediately. "I know you think me a baseborn idiot, incapable of remaining any semblance of loyalty but I assure you, I know where my loyalties lie."

"I never claimed you to be an idiot." He responded through gritted teeth.

"Yet you treated me as such when you toasted my brothers, blatantly questioning their legitimacy." You swallowed, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. "Jace is to be your future king and Baela his queen, you ought to treat them with the respect they deserve."

Aemond tipped back his head and laughed heartily "The day your brother ascends the throne will be the beginning of the downfall of this kingdom."

You froze in pure disbelief that he would say something so bold. "What you speak is treason."

His eye glinted with amusement. "Are you going to tell on me to your mother?" He chuckled cruelly. "You are no true Velaryon, that is for certain."

"Perhaps not." You whispered, approaching Aemond slowly. "But I am as much a Targaryen as you are and you'd do best to not forget it."

He went silent. Something passed between the two of you, maybe it was the alcohol acting but you found yourself staring at his lips as his tongue darted out to wet them. Wondering what they would feel like on your own.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against him, he stiffened immediately at the contact arm coming up to grip your own, as if he was unsure whether he should pull you away or not.

“I will not take you.” He said at last pulling away, lips swollen. “Not if my brother has had you.”

You hated how chivalrous he always had to be. “He hasn’t.” You whispered. Please. You wanted to say, yet you caught yourself when you realised the picture you were painting of yourself. Bedding a man who had attacked and debased your family regardless of if he was your husband or not would come across as needy. You didn’t care. “I want it.” You whispered. His eyes widened and then something changed, his gaze became hungry, his eyes roving over your body, drinking it in. You were still in your dinner dress, now crumpled and stained from your drinking with Aegon. Your pregnant belly strained against the material.

“Lay on the bed.” Aemond ordered.

You obeyed.

“Spread your legs.” Aemond approached the foot of the bed where you sat. When you spread your legs, with slight difficulty due to your belly, he snaked his hand between them, pulling down your undergarments before assisting you in taking your dress off.

Aemond pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed and sat down, his legs spread. You found your eyes drawn to his straining cock immediately. You felt a thrill, having not taken him in months. “Touch yourself.” He stated.

Your eyes widened. “Pardon?”

He smiled cruelly as if you were nothing more than a joke to him. “You want it?” You nodded. “Then show me.”

You had only allowed yourself the reprieve of masturbation on your loneliest nights when you wished for anyone to keep you company in your large, cold bed. You gulped, snaking a hand down between your legs and finding your clit. You began to rub circles around the bud, letting out a light gasp at the jolts of pleasure coursing through your body simply by having someone watch you.

“You’re filthy.” He said simply, smiling and palming between his legs as you began to buck into your touch. “Close already?” You nodded desperately. “Hands off.” He said. “When you cum I want it to be from me.”

You continued, his words barely registering. In seconds Aemond was on you, ripping your hand from between you legs and pinning you to the bed. “Stupid girl.” He snarled. “Dumb already and you haven’t even had a cock in you.” You whimpered.

“Please put it in me.” You whispered prompting a growl from Aemond. He spread your legs even wider before undoing his zipper and freeing his length. “I shouldn’t be giving you what you want.” He growled. “Not after the stunt you pulled tonight.”

He aligned himself with your entrance before pushing in ever so slowly. You let out a cry of pleasure. “Fuck.” Aemond whispered, so feint you could have missed it, his eyes fixed on where the both of were joined. “Feel good?.” He asked.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and nod as his thrusts became deeper, more frequent.

“This is all you needed huh?” He asked with a laugh. “A cock to fill you up and you’re satisfied.” His words weren’t computing, your eyes rolled back into your head. “Fuck I’m close.” He growled, thrusts picking up. “Where do you want it?”

“In me.” You said before tipping your head back and moaning as you played with your clit, walls fluttering around him as your orgasm finally overtook you. You must have been squeezing him like a vice because Aemond came shortly after you, collapsing beside you as he breathed deeply.

You lay like that for a few minutes, before Aemond placed a hand on your belly giving it a light rub before standing up. You grabbed at his wrist. “Stay.” You asked, eyes pleading. How you had gone from being furious with him to asking him to spend the night you had no idea.

Yet it was Aemond. He left anyways.

Perhaps that was for the better. Aemond was blood of the dragon, as were you and yet some days he made you feel like a sheep in comparison to himself. So you went to sleep. The only evidence he had been in your room dribbling out between your thighs.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #aegon x reader #targcest #aemond targaryen x reader smut

546 notes · View notes

rushtoprove · 1 year

Text

our little secret

part one: revelations

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader chapter: 1 rating: teen and up word count: 4k+ summary: aemond promised to take you as his wife when the time was right and you had no reason to doubt him. but when news of his engagement to cassandra baratheon is announced, and your name is left ruined by his nightly visits to your chamber, you have no choice but to flee from the shame you have brought upon your family and to run from the man you love. but not all is as it seems warnings: sexual references and nsfw scenes. period typical misogyny and course language. chapters: 1 / 2

From the moment you were born, you were told your only importance was how successful your marriage would be for the furtherment of your family. Your older brother would inherit your father’s titles and his lands, but all you had was a dowery that you could not touch for it would belong to your future husband. You were told that the only skills you needed were to please the men around you in hopes that they might take a liking and to learn the customs that make a good wife.

“Your future depends on tonight. Every eligible suitor shall be at this ball, and you must present yourself perfectly. Do not let your family down.” You felt your mother tug your hair with extra force as she readied you for the great feast to honour the king on his name day.

“Yes mother.” You whispered, desperate for her to approve.

“We have spent much gold on this dress so do not make it needless. We will not have you come back without a suiter again.” Taking in the bright blue silk that pressed tightly against you, forcing your chest to push up further than you thought possible, you bowed your head in obedience. You wished to tell her that every other gathering only presented halfwits and morons, but you would never dare speak to her that way. She would tell you to be grateful that the men had looked at you and that their house name would provide stability and protection. She would curse you for being ungrateful and spoilt, making it much easier to simply keep your mouth shut.

“I shall make you proud mother.” You wanted to. Gods, all you wanted was your family’s love and gratification, but you would not be looking for a suiter tonight. You would not allow the Lannister lord to sneak you to the gardens to talk, nor would you allow the Baratheon boy to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. The cousin of the House Strong would not be allowed to read you his poetry and you would certainly not allow the first-born Tyrell to steal a kiss is the dark. No one would court you, for you were taken. You just needed time to explain it to your family. They would not understand just yet.

“Come. You are ready for them to see you, and what a sight you are.” Submissive to your mother’s order, you stood and followed numbly behind her. The walk to the hall was a blur of noise and colour. Your father always had to be leading, standing tall in front of the courts. You all belonged to a small house, nameless years ago, but your father had built his power through his cunning ways. But as powerful as he considered himself, your house was still a small one meaning you were one of the first to enter the hall. Not many were there to see your entrance, but your father kept his head high and his strut powerful. You admired his dedication to the role.

“I am sure your mother has told you what is expected of you tonight.” His fierce gaze did not waver as you quickly ducked into a curtsey.

“Yes father.” Your family had told you of their expectations since you came of age, but they had fallen into the habit of repeating it whenever they were with you. For a year, you had remained without a suiter and your family were blind to the reason. They thought you too plain to keep any man’s interest, and too dull to be admired.

“Good girl.” No one suspected it you who was keeping the admirers away. That you would tear up the love letter’s that would arrive in the aftermath of these feasts, or that you would decline the company of countless men without fail. Some even found themselves threatened with fire and blood, but it was not you who terrorized them so.

“The Lannister Lord was quite taken with you after Princess Helaena’s name day celebrations. Perhaps try and make him remember that affection.” Your brother tried to spur you on affectionately, hoping his advice would help you. Again, you simply bowed your head and cast down your eyes.

“Here., He comes!” Your mother hissed, quickly reaching out and tugging your cheeks to brighten them. Your father instantly stood to attention while your brother quickly squeezed your arm in fondness. Not one cared that Jason Lannister was a year older than your father.

“You shall shine bright tonight little sister.” He whispered in your ear before nudging your forward. Your whole family bowed in respect for the higher born lord, but he paid no attention as he shamelessly stared at your breasts.

“Ah my little dove! You disappeared so quick the last time we met! I thought to never see you again!” Without permission, he pulled your hand roughly to his lips. He may have been more considerate if he not already drowning in his cups.

“My apologies Lord Lannister.” It was challenging to not turn up your nose in disgust and turn away from the proud bastard, but you remained passive under the gaze of your blood. He was still yet to look at your face.

“I hear the royal family are meeting so they shall not be attending for a little while longer. Let us dance to fill in the time.” You wanted to decline, but your heart squeezed at his words. The smallest reminder and you were caught in your own mind. Senselessly you agreed and repressed the shiver that ran down your spine as he grasped your waist and dragged you to the centre of the dancefloor. Other couples joined to line up beside you and Jamie Lannister finally lifted his gaze from your chest, only to stare at Cassandra Baratheon’s beside you. You watched as she lowered her gaze and giggled, slyly looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. She was good at this little play. The music jolted everyone to attention, and you slowly moved to the beat, dreading the feeling of Lord Lannister’s hands in yours. It was not his touch that you wished to feel right now. You only cared for the touch of another.

“King Viserys Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Prince of Dragonstone! And his wife Queen Alicent of House Hightower!” The dance was holted and the courtiers fell into a silent bow as the announcement was made. You felt your breath catch and against your will, your neck craned to find a glimpse of who you had been desperate to see.

“And their children! Prince Aegon Targaryen, Prince Aemond Targaryen, Prince Daeron Targaryen and the Princess Helaena Targaryen!” The family stepped forth into the hall, hands clasped behind their back as they walked straight through the parted crowd. No one dared to look too long, out of fear they may disrespect the royal family, and you too kept your eyes firmly downcast. You heart grew louder in your ears as the echo of footsteps grew closer, before stopping altogether as you gazed them walking in front of you.

“They better have poured my wine.” You heard Prince Aegon moan as he came to walk past you.

“You drink more than a Braavosi seahorse.” The sound from Prince Aemond was something you often longed to hear and left goosebumps all over you. The deep voice was enough to have you blushing, thinking back to the scandalous things he had whispered to you the very night before.

This was your secret. Aemond Targaryen, the second prince to King Viserys, and the proud rider of the fierce dragon Vaghar, was your lover. Every night he would take the secret passage to your chamber and claim you, over and over. He would worship your body and be floored by your mind while praising the gods they had sent you to him. He adored you, and you him. But it had to remain your little secret. Your family would not believe you would be able to capture a prince, no matter how high they wanted you to marry.

That’s why you prayed no one saw him extend his finger to brush through your hair as he walked by you.

“Please! Be relaxed!” The king laughed. Releasing a breath, everyone went back to standing straight and watching as the Targaryen family took to their seats. King Viserys began a speech, thanking all those who had come to attend his celebration, and you tried to pay attention. You truly tried. But Aemond had yet to move his gaze from you, leaving you blushing and trying not to make eye contact for too long. It had been a year since you had given yourself to him, and yet it still left you dizzy as if it the first time you received his attention.

“Aegon sure loves his cups.” You had forgotten that Jason Lannister remained in your presence and flinched as he whispered into your ear with his foul breath. He leaned against you, making you almost buckle under his weight in shock. It was impossible to miss the way Aemond’s gaze darkened. You tried to politely move away from the man, but you could not leave your position without him falling to the ground. For the rest of the speech, you tried desperately to ignore the weight, and the smell, of Lord Lannister and instead tried to remember something else to take your mind of it.

Watching Aemond draw his goblet to his lips, you remembered the feeling of his tongue making its way down your naked form, the feeling of his mouth on your most sensitive parts. The feeling of ecstasy as he made you crumble beneath it for the fourth time that night. The memory of last night made your experience much easier to bear.

“Now let us dance and be merry! Let us have some music!” The band were quick to restart the song, and everyone scrambled to take their places. It was a flurry of skirts and elbows, everyone desperate to fulfil the wishes of the king. You were dragged to your spot by Lord Lannister, who you did not know could even stand straight. Quickly readying yourself, you paid no attention to who lined up beside you.

“Thank you for dancing with me.” A sweet voice laughed beside you, as you flattened your skirt and pulled at the cuffs of your sleeves. You felt ridiculous in such heavy layers during the summer, but your father thought keeping the coverage would show your purity.

“Anything for you sweet sister.” With a jolt, your head swung up to see Aemond standing proudly, leaving Jamie darkened by his shadow. You had yet to see Aemond dance in public as he had only danced with you twice, privately, and under the influence of too much wine. His eye remained staring at you, and you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your lips. Only you would have noticed the way his lips also curved upwards.

“Princess Helaena. Prince Aemond. It shall be an honour to have you as our dance partners.” Lord Lannister was breathless at the sight of Aemond, as may often were. The respect he had gained from his fighting skills and philosophies often either intimidated or attracted the court. You quickly bowed in agreement.

“A pleasure.” You whispered. Helaena simply giggled before holding out her hand to her younger brother. You mimicked the move to Jamie and watched Aemond tense as your hand was squeezed much too tightly. The band began the music once more and everyone began moving in sync. You did not allow yourself to get too close to the Lannister, but the moment you spun into Aemond’s arms you felt yourself be pulled flush against the prince. The proximity could easily be seen as a part of the dance, but everyone was blind to the way both your bodies were alight with the familiar feeling of desire.

“I do not intend to spend too long here my love. I do hope you intend to leave soon.” His voice was hushed as he pulled your body up and spun you around to the dance.

“Whatever my prince desires.” You breathed out as your mouth leant close to his ear. He spun you so that your back was pressed tightly to his chest and lifted your arm to trail his fingers along.

“You know what I desire. Make sure your servants make your bath than retire for the night. I will take care of the rest.”

+++

It was not two minutes after your maids did retire that night, that the hidden door into your room swung open widely. You had no time to prepare before Aemond had you wrapped up in his arms and his hand tangled into your hair.

“You look fucking delicious in that dress.” He moaned as he moved his face to bury into your chest. You laughed and tried to push him away mockingly but took delight in the way he pressed his lips tightly against yours. You sighed at the feeling and cherished the way you felt him relax in a way that he would only do for you.

“You may take me as many times as you like tonight Aemond, but I need to bathe first. Jason Lannister spilt his wine all over me.” You cursed that you had to break away from his kiss, but the stickiness of your skin was unbearable.

“I should have cut him down right then and there. How dare he touch what is mine?” Aemond hissed but you both fell silent. How was he to know? No one was aware of your arrangement yet. Aemond first needed to gain permission from his family to have you as his wife, a proposition which you had accepted long ago. It was hard to find the right time, however due to the king’s ailing heath and rising tensions amongst the royal family. You did not mind. You would wait a lifetime for him.

“Come and join me my darling. I want to wash your hair.” You ignored the heaviness of the room, and instead walked backwards while guiding him by his hand. He smiled lovingly at you and brought your hands to his lips.

“I crave nothing more.” When you reached the tub, he moved to stand behind you and began to unlace the back of your gown. He could not go two seconds without kissing the back of your neck.

“Pay attention! The bath will get cold.” You tried to reprimand him, but your eyes screwed shut in pleasure to which he took great delight. It took longer than it should have, but when you were both finally bare you watched as he lowered himself into the water. His eyes raked over your naked form as if he was seeing it for the first time.

“Moulded from the gods.” He breathed out in reverence. Once upon a time, his attention was overwhelming. Now you were filled with nothing but bliss. You joined him but kneeled before him instead of laying against his chest.

“Do come closer I might catch a chill.” He frowned, making you giggle as the steam that rose from the almost scorching water almost made it impossible to see one another.

“Not until you are as bare as me.” Biting your lips, you placed your hands on your thighs and stared at him expectingly. Aemond held your gaze for some seconds, before humming begrudgingly.

“Fine. But you take it off. I wish to use my hands elsewhere.” Crawling forward so you leaned on top of him, Aemond grabbed your hips and quickly nipped at your shoulder.

“Ow.” You cried out in fake shock as your hands moved up towards the back of his head. Fumbling around, you loosened his eyepatch enough so that you could slip the leather off his head. He did not break eye contact as his missing eye became exposed, and in its place a perfectly carved sapphire. Delicately running you finger down the side of his face, you pressed a small kiss on his scarred eyebrow.

“Perfect.” Your sigh was enough for him to pull you down to him and yet again pull you in to a feverish kiss. Aemond allowed his hands to clutch desperately at your body before flipping you over. Holding your breath, you felt both your bodies submerge under the water, but he refused to break the kiss. You cried out in shock and could not stop laughing as you broke through the surface.

“Are you trying to drown me?” You giggled as you pushed your soaking hair from your face. He smiled lazily at you as he reclined back into the bathtub, slowly tugging you with him.

“Well, you needed me to soak my hair for you to wash it did you not?” With an eyebrow raised expectantly, Aemond pushed forward the rosewater left behind for your own hair. No one would know the way Aemond was behind your closed doors, and you were devoted to keeping it your little secret. You moved to sit behind him and allowed his body to relax into yours as you began massaging your fingers a top his skull. It was a comfortable silence as you washed him and with closed eyes, Aemond moaned at your touch.

“I must admit something to you.” He only spoke once you had rinsed his hair and his voice was nothing more than a whispered.

“What must you confess?”

“I discussed my future proposal with my father.” Your fingers stopped for a second, before hesitantly running down the fallen strands.

“What of it?” You whispered. You were no fool. You knew that the royal family would not simply allow their son to marry such a lowborn lady. But you could not help but hope for dear life that they had.

“I have requested that I chose who I shall wed. And he has agreed.” Pushing Aemond forward, you stared at him with widened eyes.

“You jest.” You glared at him but could not slow your beating heart. Shaking his head, Aemond clasped your hands together with sincerity.

“Not of this. I have given much to my family. This is all I have asked for and he says it is to be granted.”

“You're making a fool of me.” Pushing Aemond away, you quickly climbed from the bath and wrapped yourself in a gown, concealing yourself from his gaze. He was quick to follow, calling for you as he followed to your bedroom.

“You think me a liar?” Grasping your shoulders, he turned you to face him. His heart broke at the sight of the tears that had fallen down your cheeks.

“You are a prince. You will not be allowed to marry me.” You tried hard, but a sob racked your body and you desperately tried to spin away from his sight. His hands firmly kept you facing him.

“I told you long ago that I would marry you. And when have I ever broken a promise? We are made to fit against one another my love. Without you I would lose half my heart, half my soul! I will not allow you to be taken from me and I have made it clear to my father! He has agreed! I swear it on my mother’s soul! You shall be my wife and you shall be the mother of my children! I would not jest of my love for you.” You could not speak for all that left your mouth were cries. Bundling you up in his arms, Aemond tightly pressed himself to you.

“You are my love. My light. If I am not with you, I shall die the most painful death, I just know it. I love you. I promise you this. You shall be my wife.”

You believed him.

+++

The next day, you found yourself nervously pacing your families' quarters, awaiting your father. You brother stared at you as if you were a mad woman, but your mother was too caught up in her own excitement. She could not believe her husband had been called to a private audience with the king.

“Gods. What could it be about!?” She clutched her pearls as she too paced around the room. Your brother simply sat upon the couch, amused by the women in his life.

“I hear the master of coins is to retire. Perhaps father is to be offered the position.” He put forward the idea casually, but your mother burst into hysterics at the mere thought. You, however, knew what was being said. You had wished Aemond had given you time to explain to your family the relationship you shared with the young prince. It would surely come as a shock.

“WHERE IS SHE!?” You father’s voice shook the doors from the mighty boom. Everyone jumped in shock.

“What...”

“WHERE IS THAT FUCKING WHORE!?” The very words struck you and you felt your insides crawl. You were instantly nauseas. You knew if you were truly engaged to a prince your father would have wept with pride. Doing your best to suppress your dread, you assured yourself.

Aemond had promised.

The doors burst open, and everyone watched in horror as your father strode in and grasped your shoulders tightly.

“You wench!” He cried out before tossing you towards your brother. He leaped to his feet to catch your stumbling form.

“Father I...”

“You have shamed this family! You have RUINED YOURSELF! YOU ARE TARNISHED! WHAT SANE PERSON WOULD WANT YOU NOW! YOU FOOLISH FUCKING WHORE!” You father’s words cut deep, and you instantly began shaking. Desperately looking between your family members, you felt your breath quicken and your mind began to race.

“Lord husband? What is the meaning of this?” Your mother cried as she moved to grab his arm, but your father simply twisted from her and pointed his finger close to your face.

“Your whore of her daughter has bedded Prince Aemond! The word has gotten to his father the king!” Your mother shouted in disagreement, but you felt your brother’s supportive grip loosen.

“Father please I...”

“He has banished you! He has requested I take you from the Red Keep this very instant! He says he is ashamed of such debauchery taking place beneath his ceilings!” You cried out at his words, and tried to stumble away, but your father would not allow you.

“There must be some mistake!” Your mother tried to protect you, but your brother spun you to face him. Wiping away your tears, he looked at you in sympathy.

“What did he promise you?” Your father shouted at the question and quickly took to pacing the room.

“He loves me.” Your voice was a whimper, leaving you unable to defend yourself against your father's onslaught.

“He desires you little sister. He is incapable of love. He is a man with royal tastes. He is just like his brother.” You began shaking your head at his mocking words and struggled to free yourself from his tight grip.

“You do not understand! He loves me. He promised he would...” You began sobbing before you could finish the sentence making your brother click his tongue in pity.

“Do you not see? You’ve been tricked. Did he promise your marriage? He is an heir to the throne! The marriage of a Prince is a political matter. You think he would simply be allowed to choose you as his wife? What would you offer the throne? You are a fool. He has tricked you sister and left you shamed.” You moaned in disagreement at the taunting before yet again trying to break his hold. Crying out in anger, you began kicking backwards.

“You do not understand! He has been promised! He is to marry me!”

“He has fooled you. You are disgrace by his actions.”

“No! I must see him! He has requested my hand! He asked his father to marry me!” You heard your father scoff at the words, and soon he began laughing hysterically. The noise made your heaving chest rattle even louder and you desperately shook your head.

“He is not here you wretched fool! Listen to your brother! His marriage has been planned for months now! All the court knows! Everyone but you because you have been too busy hiding yourself from the truth of the matter. You have acted as a lovesick fool and now our family name must pay the price.” The mocking was met with your desperate rejections, but your body began to weaken.

“No.” You whined out in anguish.

“Aemond Targaryen has ridden with Lady Cassandra Baratheon.” You whimpered now, still shaking your head at your fathers' cruel words.

“Please.”

“For he wishes to ask her father for her hand directly.” Collapsing to the floor, you became numb to your mothers' sobs and your brothers tuts. Your father leant down to your crippled form and roughly took your chin so that you had no choice but took look at him.

“Yes. Prince Aemond is to marry. And you are to be banished from his sight for the rest of your years. You are ruined my daughter. You are a shame on the family name. There is a carriage that is to take you on a ship, and from there you shall sail to Dorne. You shall live away from the mess you have created. Perhaps it mercy the king has sent you away from the scandal that shall no doubt brew. You are an embarrassment and a fool. We hope to never see your whore of a face again.” Your father’s cruel snarl shook you, but you felt yourself falling further and further into a depression.

You thought of Aemond’s promise. You thought of his laughter and his kisses. You thought of the feeling of his hands on your skin, his lips on yours. His whispers of their future. But everything seemed to be crumbling inside your memory. How had you allowed him to lead you on for over a year? Had it all been an empty promise?

Did he ever truly love you?

next chapter

#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond x y/n #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

imtryingbuck · 6 months

Text

Happy Ending

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, past Steve x fem!Reader

Summary: Happy Ending that’s all.

Word count: 1,109

Warnings: swearing, my awful attempt at fluff and I think that’s it

Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

You were wrong. About Steve I mean. Steve wasn’t the love of your life. The man sitting on the floor trying and failing to assemble a crib without instructions because and I quote ‘I don’t need instructions Y/N it’s not that difficult’. Him. He’s the love of your life.

You’re standing at the door to the nursery watching this beautiful man struggle and instead on offering help as you know for a fine fact he’d tell you no, you stand and watch. You look around the room and smile. Sam came over two days ago to help paint the room with Bucky whilst you were sat in the living room with Natasha and Wanda going through baby names both women argued with each other for ages about if the baby’s a girl to be named after one of them.

For 6 months you and Bucky dated without anyone knowing until Bucky asked if he could tell Steve as he wanted to introduce you to his newfound family as his girlfriend, you nervously agreed. Bucky came back to your apartment with a black eye and busted lip. Steve was furious claiming that you both betrayed him and when Bucky mentioned that Steve had dated your sister that was a betrayal, their argument had spilled out to the common room, and everyone was in shock not only to see the two super soldiers’ best friends arguing but to learn that you was Steve’s ex-girlfriend. Bucky threw the first punch after Steve made a comment about you which still to this day, he has never told you what that comment was. After meeting the team again things were going great, that was until you was going to the bathroom and walked straight into Steve an argument happens with him calling you all the names under the sun then apologising and proceeding to tell you how much he loves you. You tell him you don’t love him anymore; you tell him you wish him all the best and with that you go and sit next to Bucky.

Another six months go by, and you walk into your apartment and at first your confused you’ve walked into the wrong place when you take in the sight of your floor covered in rose petals and there’s candles lit up, as you walk further into your home you see Bucky standing there with a nervous smile.

“Hi baby” he says.

“Hi Buck, what’s all this?” Your minds racing thinking you’ve forgotten your anniversary but that’s not for another two weeks.

“I had a whole speech I wrote but standing here looking at you I can’t remember what I wrote” he chuckles lightly. “So I’m just going to say this. Y/N I love you more than anything in this world. You are my happiness, my forever. I- woul- Will you marry me my love?”

You didn’t even notice he had dropped to his knee; you didn’t even notice the ring, you didn’t even notice the tears rolling down your face as you nod spluttering ‘yes’.

Your baby was conceived that night.

When you told Bucky you was pregnant you was a nervous wreck, your apologising whilst he drops to his knees kissing your stomach over and over and then he’s thanking you for the best news ever.

Three months later you and Bucky get married in the field that you had your first date, Tony is adamant he’s paying for the whole thing. Natasha and Wanda are both your maid of honour’s as you simply couldn’t decide. Sam is Bucky’s best man. Bruce and Pepper are running around making sure everything is running smoothly. Your parents and sister aren’t there as you haven’t spoken to them since Steve broke up with your sister. Your brother is there with tears in his eyes and he’s the one that walks you down the makeshift isle. Steve makes an appearance which makes your heart race with worry, thinking he’ll do something but luckily he doesn’t. As you’re exchanging your vows there’s not a dry eye around. You see Steve give Bucky a smile with a nod as you both walk past. When the night draws to an end you tell everyone that you’re expecting Baby Barnes everybody cheers. Steve asks if you two could talk and you agree, you walk into an empty room and he asks you if your happy you tell him yes so with a nod he tells you that he’s sorry for not doing right by you. He congratulates you for your marriage and pregnancy, he pulls you into a hug whispering that you will always be the love of his life.

Steve has to watch the love of his life walk up to hers and there’s nothing he can do about it. He lost you and it was all his fault.

The day Baby Barnes decided to make an appearance your husband is a nervous wreck which actually helps you with the pain as your too focused on him to register that soon enough you’ll be pushing a human into the world. After four and half hours of labour you give birth to the most beautiful baby boy. The doctor tells you to keep pushing as another baby is on its way, you and Bucky share a look of horror and confusion. You give birth to a beautiful baby girl.

As your sat there with your family the room starts to fill up with your other family. Like yourselves everyone gets a shock when Bucky shows them your daughter, wide eyes and laughter fill the room.

The love of your life sits on the bed besides you with your daughter in his arms your son in yours and neither one of you can stop smiling. He tells you he’s so proud of you and repeatedly tell you how much he loves you.

You see the love of your life kissing another girl instead of your heart breaking it flutters. Bucky kisses Winnie’s face all over to make her release that delightful squeal whilst James Junior (JJ as Bucky calls him) is playing with his Captain America shield. Catching the love of your life attention you tell him your pregnant again he cries and tells you he’s so happy and so madly in love with you, the three year olds are confused but as soon as they see their parents laughing they follow along.

Sitting there later that night with the babies in bed yourself and Bucky take a minute to thank Steve for messing up and as Buck puts it ‘letting the most beautiful and incredible person walk away’.

You finally got your happy ending.

Tags: @bruher @cjand10 @themotherof10 @spngingerbread21 @behindmygreyeyes @hnnhbananananana @reguluscrystals @learisa @unaxv

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

449 notes · View notes

jgracie · 19 days

Text

HOW YOU GET THE CURL

masterlist | rules

❝ idk if you’d do percy but with curly blonde hair (like pjo series ver perce) but if you do, i’d love a fic where he teaches y/n how to maintain curly hair (she doesn’t have curly hair) cause he loves the idea of her taking care of him ❞ — anon

in which percy teaches you how to take care of curly hair

pairing percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings none

on the radio . . . romeo & juliet (peter mcpoland), san fransisco (be sure to wear some flowers in your hair) (scott mckenzie), sunflower, vol 6 (harry styles), slow dancing (aly & aj), our house (crosby, stills, nash & young)

an can someone pls tell me the titles sooo smart and funny 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

“Honey, I’m home!” As soon as you heard Percy yell those words from your front door, you left the comfort of the couch and ran into his arms. He immediately put his bags down and picked you up, twirling you around before peppering kisses all over your face.

Life in New Rome couldn’t be any better. After the two of you got into the same university, your parents bought you an apartment to share so you wouldn’t have to be separated in university dorms, knowing all too well how you were attached at the hip. You had cried at the gesture, and Percy held you in his arms as he, too, held back tears.

A wide grin on his face, he asked, “how’s my favourite girl?” As he unpacked everything he’d bought that day, you gave him a rundown of your day. It was pretty mundane - some reading, some studying - but he listened as if you were describing the plot to a sci-fi movie. Your eyes quickly took in everything laid out on the counter, mostly groceries, and landed on one bottle.

You picked it up and read the label while Percy explained what it was, happy you were amused, “that’s a new curl cream. The one I’ve been using’s a little too heavy for my hair, always weighing my curls down. I think I’m gonna try it today, do you wanna do the honours?”

“Honours of what?” You asked, confused. You didn’t have curly hair, so you didn’t know much about the effort that went into taking care of it, just that it required a lot of different products and was incredibly laborious, according to Percy. His curls were really cute though, so in your opinion, the labour was worth it.

Making his way over to you and wrapping his arms around you, Percy batted his eyelashes, “of trying it on me. I’ve been thinking, babe, you need to know how to do curly hair for when we have kids! Curly hair genes run strong in my family, so I wouldn’t be surprised if our kids inherit them.”

You felt your face heat up as you thought about having kids with Percy, then smiled fondly when you realised what he was doing. Percy’s always been incredibly shy about wanting to be cared for. No matter how many times you’d tell him you didn’t mind giving him a massage or going over his maths homework, he’d always try to conceal his true intentions with some other lame excuse, like now.

“Okay! Let’s go do it now,” you said, dragging him over to your bathroom. You grabbed a stool for him to sit on and stood between him and the bath, hand-held shower head in hand (I hope this setup makes sense LOL). Making sure the water was the perfect temperature, you began rinsing his hair, careful to make sure no water dripped down his body. While you did so, Percy told you about his day. You always loved his knack for storytelling, your boyfriend never failed to find a way to make anything sound interesting.

Next, you squirted some of his shampoo on your hand and began lathering it in his hair. You felt Percy relax and smiled, glad he was content, “it’s okay to want to be taken care of, Perce. I’ll do it gladly,” you mumbled absentmindedly, to which he simply hummed. As you conditioned his hair, he began to doze off, which made you reconsider using the cream. You didn’t trust yourself to use it without his guidance, but didn’t want to wake him up.

In the end, you decided on disrupting his sleep, since you knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night if he slept now, “how do I do this?”

Percy took your hand and squirted some of the cream into your open palm, “rub it into both hands, then scrunch it into my hair.” You did as you were told, your hands light as too little was better than too much, in case you did something wrong.

When Percy looked into the mirror, he turned to you and smiled, “hey, you’re a natural! You should do this all the time” He asked, his eyes bleary. You would do this a million times if it made him this happy every single one of them.

After the cream came the gel, which was a lot easier since it was the same scrunching motion as before. You were a little apprehensive when Percy told you to put it in, since you didn’t think crunchy curls were the outcome. However, it all made sense during the final stage: the hair oil.

“This, my love, is what stops them from being all crunchy. Just lightly pass it over my hair,” Percy explained, pouring the tiniest amount of oil into your palm. You recognised the scent - it smelled like home, like him.

You finished and admired your work. Percy was right, you were pretty good at taking care of curly hair. After running his fingers through his hair a couple times to loosen the curls up the way he liked, Percy gave you a hug, kissing your head thousands of times and saying a muffled, “thank you,” into your hair.

Nothing was more blissful than this. Well, until you smelt something burning.

Pulling away from you, Percy asked, “did you make something?” You wracked your brain for an answer then gasped, remembering what it was. Running to the kitchen with Percy behind you, you quickly pulled the cookies you were baking - once blue, now black - out of the oven.

“I wanted to surprise you with these!” You said, disappointed.

Fighting the urge to cough, Percy picked one up and bit into it, grimacing for a second before smiling and holding a thumbs up, “it’s really unique, I’ve never tasted anything like these. You definitely did surprise me!” He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice Rolling your eyes, you discarded the cookies and replied, “oh, shut up, Perce”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson drabble #cynwrites

385 notes · View notes

musicforastylesrestaurant · 7 months

Text

The Pumpkin Patch.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here, huns!

authors note - in honour of finally approaching october, enjoy this little mess that my brain magically comes up with when i’m bored…and lhh as a dad because that is simply girl dinner.

word count - 2k

in which, you and harry decide to take your son teddy to the pumpkin patch in honour of it finally hitting october, the three of you decide to make a day of things, and let’s just say the day doesn’t exactly turn out how you all expected it, a series of unfortunate events occur and that all starts out with your fiancé getting annoyed that the sat nav isn’t helping him very much.

trope: fiancé!harry x reader

October holds a special place in your heart, like no other month ever could. It was the month when you first embarked on a life-changing journey, leaving your homeland to pursue higher education in the United States. It was a time of excitement and trepidation, but little did you know that it would mark the beginning of countless beautiful memories.

During those university years, October became a symbol of friendship and camaraderie. It was when you met your lifelong friends, people who would stand by your side through thick and thin. Together, you navigated the challenges of academia, celebrated achievements, and forged bonds that would last a lifetime.

One particular October stands out vividly in your memory. It was the month of your graduation, a momentous occasion that your family didn't want to miss. They flew out to share in your joy and celebrate your accomplishments. Their presence made the milestone even more meaningful, filling your heart with warmth and love.

But the most extraordinary chapter of your life was written in the pages of an October. It was in Los Angeles, while browsing through a record shop, that you first laid eyes on Harry Styles. The connection was instant, as if fate had brought you together. In the midst of music and conversation, your love story began to unfold.

It was in October when he first whispered those three magical words, "I love you," after a night of watching a scary movie that left you clinging to his chest, finding comfort in his embrace. That moment of vulnerability deepened your bond and solidified your love for each other.

During a serene picnic in the park, surrounded by the beauty of autumn, Harry surprised you with a question that would change your lives forever. He asked you to move in with him, a gesture that symbolized commitment and a future together.

The circle of life continued to expand in October when your son, Theodore, affectionately known as Teddy, was born. The joy of parenthood brought immeasurable happiness and completeness to your lives, and the autumn leaves seemed to dance in celebration.

And then, in an enchanting October evening, Harry knelt down on one knee and proposed to you. Under the starry sky, he presented you with a ring, promising a lifetime of love, happiness, and adventures together. Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you said yes, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

October, with its vibrant colors and meaningful milestones, had become more than just a month on the calendar; it was a testament to the beauty of life, love, and the incredible journey you had embarked upon. It was safe to say that October had etched its place as your favorite month, forever holding the key to cherished memories and boundless love.

As you, Harry, and your almost two-year-old son Teddy set out for the pumpkin patch in Harry's sleek black Range Rover, there was an air of excitement in the car. The vibrant colours of autumn and the promise of pumpkin picking had everyone in high spirits. However, it didn't take long for things to take an unexpected turn.

Teddy, safely strapped into his car seat, began to cry, his little arms reaching out for his father. Seeing as Harry had been up all night comforting his baby boy who appeared to be getting his molars growing, he had tried everything, and the only thing that seemed to help the poor boy was to be cuddled up with both parents in their bed, with a teething toy in his grasp.

So, when the two of you woke up this morning, you had decided to take everyone’s tired minds off of things and have a fun little day out, but that didn’t seem to be going the way you had originally planned.

Harry couldn't easily comfort him, as he was engrossed in a battle with the aggravating sat nav system that seemed determined to make the journey anything but smooth.

You turned round in your seat and leaned over to Teddy, offering him a soothing voice, "Hey, ted. Daddy's driving right now, but he'll be with you soon. Look out the window, see the pretty leaves?"

Harry, growing increasingly frustrated, muttered, "S’thing is driving m’nuts. S’like a maze."

Teddy's cries persisted, and you rummaged in the bag for a toy to distract him. "Teddy, how about this colourful toy? Can you play with it?"

Harry let out another exasperated sigh, his eyes fixed on the sat nav screen. "All I want is t’find that pumpkin patch."

The journey went on like that for about another ten minutes before Harry finally got the hang of where the sat nav was trying to take him, and Theodore succumbed to silent sniffles when your fiancé reached his hand back and let his son hold onto his finger like he was a newborn all over again.

Theodore Styles was born just a year into the two of you officially dating, on October 18th, 2013. You and Harry were only nineteen. Although both of you were only young, you both had support from your family and friends and even though Harry’s job was a very demanding one, he always made sure to put the two of you first, so fast forward to October 2016 you were the perfect family unit and you were one step closer to becoming a Styles just like your other two boys.

As you, Harry, and Teddy finally pulled into the sprawling pumpkin patch, a sense of excitement filled the air. The fields were covered in a sea of vibrant orange, and the prospect of a fun-filled day lay ahead.

Driving through the muddy terrain, Teddy was securely strapped into his car seat, but his little face was pressed against the window. His bright eyes were wide with curiosity, and he couldn't contain his delight as he pointed at everything in his limited vocabulary, his baby talk filling the car.

"Look, Teddy," you exclaimed with enthusiasm, "those pumpkins are huge, aren't they?"

Teddy responded with bursts of infectious laughter, his tiny finger continuing to point at the pumpkins, each one seemingly more fascinating than the last. His joy was like a contagious wave that washed over the car.

Harry, his long hair falling in front of his eyes, expertly navigated the muddy path. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh, occasionally glancing at Teddy's adorable antics.

"That's right, Teddy-Bear," Harry chimed in, his voice filled with affection, "those pumpkins are as big as y’are!"

The car rolled on, winding through the pumpkin-filled fields. Teddy's laughter and baby talk were a constant source of amusement, brightening the atmosphere in the car.

You couldn't help but join in the excitement. "Teddy, do you see those scarecrows over there? They're guarding the pumpkins!"

Teddy's laughter escalated as he looked at the scarecrows, his tiny hands reaching out toward them. His innocent joy made the entire journey worthwhile.

Harry put the car into park and turned to you. "Alrigh’ m’love,"

As you worked on getting Teddy out of his car seat, Harry made his way to the trunk. He looked at you, holding the baby bag, and asked, "Do y’think we'll need t’stroller?"

You considered for a moment, remembering that Teddy hadn't slept well during the night. You nodded, knowing that he might get tired later. "Yeah, H, I think it's a good idea. Just in case."

Harry nodded in agreement and began setting up the stroller while you gently unstrapped Teddy from his car seat. He wriggled out of your arms, his little welly boots and beanie adding to his adorable appearance.

With Teddy on the ground, you smiled down at him. "Look at you, ready for some pumpkin picking, little man!"

Harry, now with his hair tied into a man bun to keep it out of his face, locked up the car. He glanced at Teddy and then at you. "Alrigh’, s’make some pumpkin memories."

As the three of you approached the entrance to the patch, The stroller stood empty as Harry navigated it through the muddy pumpkin fields.

Teddy, in his infectious excitement, was far too eager to explore on his own. Instead, you held onto his tiny hands, and he practically pulled you along, his chubby legs wading through the mud, creating tiny boot imprints with each step.

The pumpkin patch sprawled before you, a vast sea of orange and green. Teddy's eyes danced with wonder as he darted from one pumpkin to another, each one seemingly more fascinating than the last. His little voice bubbled with delight, even though his words were a jumble of baby talk and giggles.

Harry manoeuvred the stroller skillfully, occasionally glancing over to check on Teddy's progress. Teddy's tiny boots splashed through puddles, his beanie bobbing atop his head as he explored this pumpkin wonderland.

You marvelled at the sheer joy radiating from your son. Holding his hands, you let him lead the way, following his excited tugs and twirls. The mud-splattered boots and the occasional stumble didn't dampen Teddy's enthusiasm in the slightest.

About fifteen minutes into your visit to the pumpkin patch, you found yourselves standing in front of a scarecrow, admiring its rustic charm. Teddy, so far, had been on a mission to pick up every pumpkin he walked by, not quite grasping the concept of a pumpkin patch and getting upset when you told him that you needed to find the perfect pumpkin before heading home.

As you were enjoying this quaint moment, a friendly woman from another family who was passing by noticed your trio. She offered with a warm smile, "Would you like a photo of the three of you by the scarecrow?"

Harry didn't hesitate for a moment. He beamed and said,

"Yes, please!" as he quickly handed the woman his phone, which was already open on the camera. He gently scooped Teddy into his arms, holding him on his hip, and then wrapped his free arm around your shoulder.

The woman skillfully captured the moment, ensuring you were all framed by the scarecrow and the vibrant pumpkin patch behind you. Teddy, still clutching a small pumpkin in his chubby hand, looked at the camera with curiosity, and his innocent smile added an extra layer of charm to the photo.

After the picture was taken, you thanked the kind stranger, and Harry, still holding Teddy, shared a grateful smile with her.

Ten minutes after Teddy's encounter with the scarecrow, the pumpkin patch adventure continued, with Teddy now running ahead of you and Harry. His tiny legs carried him with an uncontainable exuberance as he darted between pumpkins, each one a new discovery in his eyes.

You pushed the stroller, its wheels rolling through the earthy paths, while Harry walked beside you, holding your hand. Both of you watched Teddy with hearts full of fondness as he explored this autumn wonderland. His laughter was a symphony of joy, filling the air and brightening your day even more.

The pumpkin patch seemed to be Teddy's playground, a place where he could express his boundless curiosity and energy.

About five meters ahead of both you and Harry, Teddy suddenly stopped in his tracks, captivated by a rather large pumpkin. It seemed to be the biggest one he had seen so far, and his little hands eagerly reached out to try and pick it up. However, it was a challenge even for his determined efforts.

Harry and you shared a chuckle at Teddy's determined endeavour. He didn't give up, though, and instead, he called out to Harry in his adorable baby talk, "Dada, hep! Hep, Dada!"

Harry couldn't resist the plea, and with a playful grin, he made his way over to Teddy. Together, father and son wrestled with the pumpkin, their laughter filling the crisp autumn air.

While they worked on the perfect pumpkin, you put the brakes on the stroller and crouched down in front of your little boy. You asked in a sweet baby talk, "Is this the pumpkin you definitely want, Teddy?"

Teddy nodded his head vigorously, a bright smile on his face. He wrapped his little arm around your neck, expressing his delight and contentment with the choice

“S’settled then,” Harry grinned up at you, holding the pumpkin in his tattooed arms. “Fancy grabbing a coffee at the lil’hut before heading off? God knows we need it.”

400 notes · View notes

dolldefiler · 2 months

Note

The hold you have on me should really be investigated. I'm not even into half of the things you write about, or well I wasn't, now I can't tell if they're my kinks or another thing of yours I'm obsessed with.

I have always worn very modest clothes but there is not a doubt in my mind that I'd give it all up if you said so, I'd go from never even wearing crop tops to walking around naked for you. You would only have to imply it and I'd alter my entire life if you so wanted; a stranger, but with so much power in your words, power crazy enough for me to forget my morals and principles and just get on my knees. Let you use me as you want and shame me for it.

Would it matter to you all that I'd have to give up to be your amusement? All the respect, dignity and honour that would be lost forever. All the friends and family that would never talk to me again if they found out all the depraved things I'd do for you. The worst part is that it wouldn't matter to me, I'd give it all up in a heartbeat simply for a taste of your cock.

Oh my, hello there. I've been watching you slowly like my posts ever since I dragged you from Reddit. Doesn't it feel so fucking good becoming a brainless little toy for me? For your head to become all mushy while your body reacts to the depraved kinks I write about. You're just finding out what a pretty little slut you can be.

You'd give up your morals if I asked? You'd become a silly cocksleeve if I snapped my fingers? For me? You're giving me quite a bit of power over you, aren't you? Are you sure you're not a depraved, eager fucktoy deep down that just needs to be claimed? Are you sure your cunt wouldn't be throbbing at the thought of stripping away your soul for my cruel delight? It would, wouldn't it? It'd get all wet and sticky while you finger fuck yourself to becoming a stranger's immoral sex toy.

It's okay, sweetheart. Give up your dignity. Your reputation. You don't need any of them. You don't need your friends and family when you can become another fleshlight for my cock. You'll be happiest when you're doing the most depraved things for the twisted pleasure of my cock. I promise.

#asks #corruption kink

247 notes · View notes

orionremastered · 3 months

Note

Anon here! I just saw that your requests are open for Batfam? If you’re still taking requests can you do a regency era Damian Wayne x reader. If you don’t want to do Damian I wouldn’t mind any of the batboys!

xxx

I am always taking requests (they're for my sanity) except for the next three days because I'm on a plane, busy, or sleeping :/

(for this fic, they are Bruce's biological kids) (not completely historically accurate. like at all. but i tried)

Masterlist

Jason Todd x (probably fem due to the law back then unless you want to dream that being gay was allowed in 1817 (some sources also state that lesbianism was never illegal, but I don't know for sure. Just found it interesting))!Reader

Regency Era AU

The poor man is being swarmed by potential— and in all honesty, very desirable— women and their family members who are desperate to introduce the most suitable option for his wife from their family line. Constantly ignoring beginnings of phrases such as "this is the honourable—" and "perhaps you would like to be introduced to my lovely daughter—", and with each one his jaw ticked.

You hide your smile behind your fan, gazing at him from across the ballroom. It is the marriage season and your childhood friend clearly hated it. But that was expected of him as the second son of Bruce Wayne, Duke of York and member of the royal family. Especially since the duke's eldest, Marquess Richard, had recently married a young woman, Marchioness Barbara.

Locking eyes with the green you have known for so long, you tap the top of your open fan. I wish to talk to you.

With abundant relief, he shoos off one particularly frustrating Earl and almost rushes to be by your side. "Thank you," he says sincerely, a smile stretching his face.

"Why do you not wish to talk to them?" you inquire, Jason's smile dropping subsequently. "They are fine young women, after all."

"They're boring," he sighs, "I do not wish to be married to someone who's personality is dull."

"They're not dull," you chide, and he raises a brow. "They are just taught to be agreeable and respectful, my Lord."

"If I asked them about my theory of a novel I am reading, they would simply say, 'Well if you think so, it must be true' and not..."

"Something like I'd say?"

"Exactly."

You suspect it's a common theme with the Waynes; they're seemingly more inclined to look for a spouse that challenges their opinions and joins them in their love of science— the recently wedded Wayne couple bonded over their love of physics, in fact. A quality like that in a women was usually seen as undesirable.

When you were younger and your father made you visit the Waynes, you learned about sciences that your father would've frowned upon; even the daughters, though there were only two, enjoyed the conversations like you did. With Jason and the youngest son, Damian, you would have lengthy conversations about the novels you were reading altogether; these conversations happened so often that their father was tired of having three copies of every novel he owned.

"I have an idea," Jason says, straightening to his full height beside you— tall enough for you to need to tilt your head up if you wanted to look him in the eyes (you always did— something that beautiful was designed to be looked at). "What if you and I get married?"

"You can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

You consider him for a moment— you really do— and see no sign of a lie or joke behind his offer. And now that you think about it, it wouldn't be terrible. It was better than your father marrying you off to some old man you didn't know.

Or weren't attracted to.

"Usually there's a dance or two before the proposal," you point out almost teasingly, "And then courtship. For at least a few months. Don't forget, a man should dance with multiple women before deciding who he wishes to wed—"

"Fine," he sighs, rolling his eyes. Yet a small grin remains on his face. "Would you like to dance, then?"

"Hmm, let me think—"

Jason pointedly fake-yawns while playfully glaring your way.

"I would appreciate a dance, yes." And with that, he leads you to the centre of the ballroom, passing his father who watches the two of you with confusion as you begin to dance.

"Are they—"

"Relax, dear," his wife Selina interrupts while lightly leaning against him, also watching the two of you dance, a smile on both of your faces as you whisper quiet yet teasing words to each other. "Don't tell me you couldn't see it before?"

Her husband's silence answers for him.

#batfamily #batfam #batfamily x reader #jason todd x reader

240 notes · View notes

kingconia · 8 months

Note

Hello I js read ur MC who takes inspriration from the protag of their stories and if you're still taking requests, is it possible to do a part 2 for it?

A/N: You are welcome. I pondered a little about the continuation of this concept, and figured out that Leona & Vil had the most potential for the second part, since I left a cliffhanger in their stories. Others seemed quite cliche or obvious—Riddle has a crush, he can easily deal with, and same goes for Malleus, Azul & Idia. I hope, you don't mind.

The first part can be found here. Obviously, read it first for the context.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR & VIL SCHOENHEIT WITH THE READER, WHO IS INSPIRED BY THE PROTAGONIST OF THEIR STORIES.

Leona Kingscholar. 💛

— Leona is bad at admitting aloud that he made a mistake, but it doesn't necessarily mean he has no realisation of it. He knows, he hurt you. That is obvious;

— He starts paying more attention to you in the school, since he hasn't figured out how to fix your relationship yet. And that is when he notices that... You are actually not as cheerful as he remembered you to be? Most of the time, you sit away from other students of Savanaclaw?

— When he asks Ruggie about that, he shrugs. He tells Leona that you were always like this, and they even call you ”the sombre heir” among themselves, since you are not quite fun to have around. Leona is surprised. You were so different with him...

— In the end, Leona simply decides to speak with you honestly. He has this feeling that you will accept him either way. You always did before. But, oh, seems like he is not on your good side anymore, isn't he?

•

”Oi, kittie, watcha doin'?” Leona plops in front of you, putting his elbows on the table.

He is nervous, he will not lie about. It is the first time he feels such an overcoming anxiety before someone alive, and that is strange. It is just you, after all. Right?

”Dunno,” you answer slowly, putting a slice of meat in your mouth. ”Thinking about my family, who died so yours could take our throne away. You, Leona?”

Well, you definitely are not planning to forgive him so easily.

Leona shifts uncomfortably as he tries to catch your gaze. Without a luck.

”I accept my fault,” he murmurs quietly, hardly audible. ”And if anything, I understand your pain. I, too—”

A sudden laugh from your lips makes him stop in the tracks. As you wipe your mouth with the napkin, you smile suddenly. And when you raise your eyes on him, Leona almost flinches. Because there is nothing kind or gentle in these orbs now. Instead, they are cold. They are cold, and at the same time, they are awfully mad.

”What would you know about it, golden boy?” Your voice shift in a condescending tone as you shake your head slightly. ”Kings like your brother, Leona, they have honour. And princes like you or your little nephew have a bravery and heart. But people like me, Leona, the fallen ones, we only have rage. So, excuse me, but I don't think we are at the same page, kittie.”

You are hissing your last words, hand coming to grab Leona by his chin, tip of claws scratching his skin. He wants to back away, he intends too, but he is suddenly strangely fascinated by you. Intimidated, even.

”If you want to apologise, Leona, then do it properly. With falling on your knees, at least,” your fangs flash in a carnivorous smirk. ”And until then, have your dreams. Sweet or not—we will see in which mood I am going to be today.”

Leona gulps as he watches you leaving, eyes fixated on your back.

Perhaps you ignored his existence until now, willing to forget his rudeness. But now, it seemed, he lost the last pieces of your mercy.

...And he needs to figure out how to have your forgiveness really quick.

Vil Schoenheit. 💜

— Vil is not surprised when headmaster warns him, that someone from his dorm attempts to take away his housewarden title. He already knows who it is, and he is not surprised to see your face, when he enters the main hall;

— He had a bad week already: his hair products worked awfully, your number of followers outnumbered his own, and Neige practically took the role that was his in the very last moment. It is only logical that in the same week you attempt to take his title;

— And, of course, you succeed. The poison you created can be only worth of the Pomefiore housewarden, and no one can deny that. Even Vil. In fact, he always acknowledged your brains and wilt, so of anything, he feels it is fair win;

— What makes him stop frozen, though, is the person you want to see as your vice. Originally, Vil thought that you will take Rook—he is quite aware of his attraction towards you—but then... You chose him? Why? Why would you do that?

•

”Well,” Vil says, when the two of your are left in the room alone, and there is no need to act as you were friends anymore. ”What else are you planning to do with me? You are the housewarden—you won. Why making me your vice?”

You turn on your heels to face him, a big and shiny smile plastered on your face as you step closer to him.

”Don't be so mean, Vil-sama. Why do you act as if I hate you? I don't,” you put yours hands on chair handles he is sitting at, invading his personal space gracefully. ”I cannot hate a person, who helped me to understand what my signature spell is.”

Vil furrows, pressing his back to the chair more firmly, not trusting you coming close to him. Yet, it hardly changes anything—the tips of your noses are practically touching.

”I apologise, but I cannot recall such a thing.”

He had never helped you with anything in your life. Now, Vil is ashamed that he didn't.

He remembers your first day in the dorm. How you clinged to his side, with stars shining in your eyes, asking him about this and that. How you attempted to befriend him. How you only originally started to speak with Rook to understand him better.

Vil failed the little student of his.

And the person in front of him didn't want his acceptance now.

”How come?” Your hands are suddenly on his head, fingers wrapped around his favourite diadem, taking it off slowly. ”After all, you were the first beast I spoke with.”

He flinches, and you carefully kiss him on the cheek before putting the diadem on your own hair. It looks nice.

Vil hates that.

”I miss the kid you were,” he murmurs against his best judgement.

You hum.

”Bear the monster you created, instead.”

You left him on the vice position so it could be a remind for his mistake. For his cruelty. For his arrogance. He realises it now. You don't need to do anything special to hurt him, if he does it to himself, working under your command on the daily basis, seeing you shine, when he burns out.

You are beautiful, Vil accepts that. Your revenge is a charming one, too.

”I heard Neige got that role?” You ask suddenly, when he reaches doors, unwilling to turn back. ”Such a shame. Something must happened.”

He grits his teeth.

Vil hates himself for making you like this. Yet, he can't help but feel proud. Whatever he created you as—you would take what is yours, with blood and sweat. He can admire that about you. And deep inside, Vil thinks you do that, too. Deep inside you enjoy it as much as you hate it.

”Yes. Something.”

After all, there is truly nothing Vil can do, but accept his defeat.

The king is dead. Long life to you.

A/N: Based on protagonists or not—they had some darkness in theirselves as well; just as Simba was quite ruthless, when the situation required of it, in many interpretations of the tale, Snow-white learned how to be cruel, too. I think it is enamoring how these said protagonists can be just as their villains, especially if they were growing up around them in one way or another.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader

940 notes · View notes

iiotic · 2 months

Text

｡‧High School Sweethearts༻༉

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

༉‧.tw - Toxic relationship, cheating (not alastor nor reader), swearing, manipulation, mentions of death, murder and kidnapping, slight nsfw?? Situationship Please inform me if you'll find more.

༉‧.words - 3.4k

༉‧.a/n - High school sweethearts and your good friend combined!! Bcs I'm not continuing this series. I really hate how I wrote "Your good friend" which was the part 2 and I simply don't have the motivation nor ideas to continue it.

"Can we just be honest?"

"These are the requirements."

"If you think you can be my one and only true love."

You've been in many relationships before. Not even a single one worked, you were devastated, so you decided to give yourself a break from everything. You thought that you needed to focus on yourself more and many agreed with your decision.

However the fact that guys were practically drooling over you at school, wasn't helping. They truly just went for looks, they'd leave you after becoming more popular and having his way with you.

You were so sick of that. Can't you just have a healthy relationship? Whatever, you didn't care anymore.

"You must promise to love me."

"And damn it, if you fuck me over."

"I will rip your fuckin' face apart."

Numerous rumours were spreading, fast. You had absolutely no idea why. You didn't do anything stupid nor risky this time.

It started with harmless jokes about you being in love with the new guy, Richard. He quickly became popular as girls thought that he was very handsome and they weren't wrong. He was quite charming.

The rumour quickly stopped when Richard started courting one of the girls in your class, Dorothy. Girls were fuming with anger at the sight of him and her acting all "lovey dovey" as people called it. You were relieved, Dorothy was such a sweet girl.

However then their relationship crashed. One rumour said that Dorothy dumped Richard for being "Selfish" and for having "a big ego" then another rumour said that Richard dumped Dorothy for having a poor family. Their relationship went on and off again. You didn't really care as long as it didn't applied to you.

"Step one."

"You must accept that i'm a little of my mind."

Then fate decided to punch you right in the face or rather Richard with his boldness. You were just walking to your next class with your small group of friends and then he approached you. As the conversation quickly tuned down he started his little speech.

-" Doll, I have decided to give you this honour, of going to the prom with me." - Richard declared taking one of your hands, looking definitely not at your eyes. -" So, you're welcome."

You looked at him with disgust, what makes him think that you'd ever want to go with him? What makes him think that you will ever go to the prom? You weren't going to. Snapping back to the reality, you quickly snatched your hand away from his grip.

-" The audacity to even ask me that."- You said, looking at your friends. Some of them were already giggling and some of them stared at you with confusion. -" The answer is no."

He chuckled nervously as you continued. -"I thought that was obvious? Why would i ever accept your "invitation"? Besides Dorothy would be truly heartbroken to hear that you don't want to go to the prom with her. I heard her talking about a new dress she just bought and I bet she will look stunning. So why won't you ask her out? Shoo.. Before I will tell the whole school about this conversation.

He was just standing there, truly shocked, mouth open, no words left. Richard snapped back to reality after hearing your friends laugh at him and his stupidity or maybe his state?? You didn't care you just wanted to go to class without any disturbance.

"Step two."

"This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line."

As days passed by, more and more people asked you out. You always politely declined. You didn't even know most of the people who asked you out, never saw them in your entire life.

Besides its not like you were going to prom anyways and even if you wanted to, you'd like to go with someone who is important to you. Someone who'd care about you, someone who wouldn't use you for looks or popularity.

"Step three."

"Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion."

However at the time, you didn't realized that there was a boy, your age, watching and admiring you from afar. He like many other boys thought that you were quite attractive, but he knew that he was out of your league.

You didn't even know he existed besides he heard that your "requirements" were almost impossible to fulfil. Rumours said that your standards are very high, and that's because you aren't in a relationship.

Alastor didn't know much about you. All he knew that you live close to eachothers and that you have a good sense in fashion. Well not many knew that because the school required school uniforms.

He always wanted to start talking to you, but never actually did. What would you say? You'd probably just laugh at him like at that kid on the hallway. So Alastor decided to try something different..

"Step four."

"Give me more, give me more, more.."

Some days ago you found an anonymous letter in your locker with a single rose attached to it. You were not really surprised by the rose itself however it made you smile and you appreciated the small gift. You were shocked upon seeing a letter so well-written, it made you blush slightly as you read word by word what someone wrote about you.

Saying how someone adores everything you do and they even complimented your handwriting which, you thought, wasn't very attractive.

After seven days you sound a little key chain, a letter and once again a rose attached to it. The letter was still as good as the first one, it made you smile. From now on every Thursday you found a letter with an rose attached and sometimes a little gift with it. You've got a secret admirer.

"If you can't handle a heart like mine."

"Don't waste your time with me."

"If you're not down to bleed, no, oh."

Your secret admirer never failed to make you smile, after a month you grew more and more desperate to know his identity. You'd watch your locker all the time to see if someone is putting something in, eyeing every single kid that walked by.

On another Thursday you pulled out a letter and a rose attached to it, as always. You really wanted to make a whole bouquet with it, you always carefully put them in a vase when you came back.

On that day a guy saw you pulling it out, thinking that it would be a perfect idea to make you think that he wrote all the letters and carefully trimmed all the tosses you received from an anonymous person.

Little naive you believed him and soon you both started dating. You really thought that he would be a little more romantic and charming in person but who could complain? You were happy that someone actually loved you and cared about you just as much as you cared for them.

Soon the day of the prom came and you agreed to go with your partner. You were getting ready for hours to make sure you'd look good for him! You really hoped he'd like it.

However you grew a little suspicious why the love letters didn't stop.

He picked you up at 7 just like he said he will. It was quite the quiet walk, nobody dared to speak for some reason, it was almost uncomfortable. When you arrived he suddenly vanished. You spend all the time getting ready just for him to walk away like that? really ungentlemanly behaviour.

You really didn't have much time to think about it, as your friends dragged you to the dance floor, you were dancing your heart out. However then the slow dance started, you quickly had to scramble off the dance floor as you didn't really want to interrupt other couples. Besides you really wanted to find your boyfriend to dance with him.

And then, once again, you felt like you just got slapped across the face, your own boyfriend dancing with someone else. It really would be fine if they weren't so close to eachother, eyes closed and lips almost touching. You just wanted to dissaper.

Heartbroken you ran out of the building, to get some fresh air. Tears streaming down your face as you thought about all the memories you shared with him. Everything was a lie. You sat on the edge of a fontann, your makeup completely ruined and your hair a mess.

After a minute or two, you heard footsteps approaching. You didnt bother looking up at this someone, since you weren't in an amazing state right now. The footsteps stopped and the wind alarmed you that someone sat beside you.

"How could he do this to me?" You wondered, kicking your heels off.

-"Are you alright?" You heard a masculine voice ask, empathy radiating from his tone.

-"Do I look alright to you?" You murmured, not wanting to look up at him nor wanting to talk about anything that happened.

-"My apologies, dumb question." After few minutes of sitting there in silence you finally decided to look at the anonymous someone who sat beside you.

Your eyes were met with a boy, your age. Brown-ish hair, caramel skin and mesmerising chocolatey eyes that were looking directly at you. He was wearing a black suit with red accents. his lips were formed in a small smile.

-" This might seem rude, but i saw everything what happened, and I think that guy was just a waste of your time. A pretty lady like you deserves so much better." He stated, trying to make you feel better. As much as you wouldn't like to agree with some random dude you never saw before, you have to admit he was right.

This was just a waste of time.

"If you can't handle."

"The loving, the smothering."

"Til you can't handle it no more, no more."

"Go home."

You soon learned that the boys name was Alastor and you had to admit that he was such a gentleman. He was always so polite, always opening doors for you, pulling the chairs, helping you with anything you'd ask. He was quite the charmer.

You two quickly developed a good friendship and Alastor even introduced you to his mom! She was such a sweet woman, she raised her son perfectly.

When you first met her you were nervous, very nervous for some reasons, but you relaxed seeing that she accepted you and even made you her famous jambalaya. It was delicious.

"Can we just be honest?"

"These are the requirements."

You were bored, extremely bored, so you decided to write out all of your "requirements". You always heard that you had high standards, but you highly doubt thats true. You just wanted to be loved and accepted the way you are.

You sat on your bed, shuffling through your drawers to find an empty notebook. After some minutes of searching you found it! noting that you have to clean your room soon.

You grabbed a black pen and began writing..

"You must promise to love me."

"And damn it, if you fuck me."

"Over, I will rip your fuckin' face apart."

Your notebook soon turned into a diary. Besides the requirements, you began writing your secrets, likes and dislikes, how's your day been as well as your little crush that you slowly started developing on your friend, Alastor.

You weren't sure that your feelings were reciprocated. Hell, you even began wondering if he thinks that you're his friend. However you had an other mission, finally finding out who your secret admirer is.

"High school sweethearts, line up."

"They're trying to waste my time."

"High school sweethearts, shut up."

"If you're not my type."

It was extremely hard to find out who it is, 'couse you weren't going to school anymore. The letters with a rose attached to it started appearing at your doorstep. "So this certain someone knows where i live.."

You decided to tell Alastor about you secret admirer, thinking that maybe he'd help you find them. He agreed, holding in a laugh at your stubbornness.

You were gathering clues all day but then it was time for Alastor to go back, take care of his loving mother. Before sleep you decided to grab the pen and write something in your diary..

"Step five."

"You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand."

"Step six."

"If you can't put in work, then I don't know what you think this fucking is."

"Step seven."

"This one goes to eleven."

"If you cheat you will die, die."

As for the guy you went to prom with? You didn't know where he went. He just suddenly dissapered, vanished. Pheraps he moved houses? Maybe he had an accident?

Whatever happened to him, you were glad that he was nowhere to be found. You just couldn't bare to look at his disgusting face, again.

However you discovered something more surprising. You caught Alastor, sneaking in on your parents property and leaving the letter with a rose that knew oh so well.. By now you have a whole bouquet, just like you wanted.

You just wished that he wasn't joking about all the compliments he gave you. That he was just lying, making fun of you. You really wanted for him to be genuine about them, about all the things he wrote.

You decided to keep it a secret, waiting for the proper time to say that you discovered his secret or pheraps when he'll tell you it himself? By now your crush on Alastor has grown so much that you couldn't even look him in the eyes. Always blushing slightly when he's around. You've fallen for his charm.

You had all these fantasies and cravings when it came to him. If you didn't do anything about it you would just burst, so you decided to vent to your best friend.. You diary.

"Could you hold me through the night?"

"Put your lips all over my mine."

"Salty face when I start cryin'."

"Could you be my first time?"

"Eat me up like apple pie."

"Make me not wanna die."

"Love me rough and let me fly."

"Get me up, yeah, get me high."

"Tie me down, don't leave my side."

"Don't be a waste of my time."

Alastor really didn't mean to read it! You just left it open on your desk and curiosity got ahead of him. He really didn't mean to read you fantasies nor your secrets. What kind of gentleman was he?

Then the guilt hit him in the face, he really shouldn't be reading your private notebook. He should respect it, he should respect your privacy.

Alastor closed your diary, in a hurry, when he heard your footsteps getting closer. Quickly sitting on your bed, pretending to be interested with your room decor.

He saw the way you hide the notebook as soon as you saw it laying on your desk. After he asked you what it was you brushed it off quickly. He decided to keep it a secret, waiting for the right moment to confront you. However he was glad that his feelings were reciprocated..

Soon you and your good friend, Alastor graduated highschool. You planned on going to college, however you were struggling with degree course and you didn't have any money.

Alastor, however had full scholarship. He worked hard through entire highschool to go to his dream university. You were so proud of him when you found out about determination.

You got a job at a local coffee shop, as a waitress. It took you a long time but you finally got your first job! Soon enough you moved out from your parents house and rented your own, small apartment.

At first it looked terrible; windows broken, wallpapers hanging off the wall, some of the panels of the floor were missing basically a whole disaster.

But somehow you managed to make it look quite cozy! Of course it took a long time and some financial help from your friend, Alastor. Obviously you told him that you didn't need any help, that you can manage on your own even though it was a lie, however he didn't take "no" as an answer.

You didn't want to admit it but you were extremely grateful for his help. Without him you wouldn't be where you stand right now. He was always so caring, kind and comforting you when you needed it. Such a gentleman..

-"Here's your order Mrs.Lraise. "- You said handling her the coffee and cake she ordered, from the plate with caution.

-"Ah thank you darlin'!" She said not being able to read your name out of the ID. "You're such a sweetheart. "

-"I'm just doing my job." You said before walking away to continue your job. Putting the plate away you heard a familiar voice calling you. You turned around and your eyes were met with the familiar mesmerising chocolatey eyes.

-"Dear, I'm ready to take my order" Alastor stated now putting the menu back on the table. You walked up to him, taking your notepad with the pen from your pocket.

-"Proceed"- In that moment his angelic voice was taking his order. Black coffee with no sugar nor milk, as always. Of course you remembered him order, he was a regular and was your best of the bestest friends.

-"You know i didn't saw you come in." It was a lie, even in this busy cafe your working at you could feel his presence. Your eyes met his as you write his usual on your notepad. -" I'd recommend our new cheese cake, it tastes amazing."

-"Well I can't blame you, I can tell you're quite busy at the moment." He stopped to fix his glasses. -"And thanks but you know I'm not a big fan of sweets."

-"And you know that's our policy to reccoment new things." You chuckled quietly, taking your leave as you heard other, this time unfamiliar voices calling out to you. -"Your coofee soon will be with you, sir."

At the end of your shift you waited patiently for Alastor to come and pick you up. He suggested that, knowing that you end your shift after the sun dissapered. It was quite cute of him. Caring about you like that..

You didn't really want to admit it but your feelings for your childhood best friend never faltered. You knew that woman was basically hanging and fuming all over him and you couldn't bare it. He was a popular radio host, you knew that but oh the jealousy was rising more and more.

Your deep thoughts were interrupted by familiar footsteps and soft humming coming in your directions. You looked up to be met with his soft grin.

-"What's a such a buetiful lady doing alone, at this hour?" Alastor joked around, offering you his hand to hold onto which you gladly accepted. You thought for a moment as you started walking.

-"I don't know, waiting for someone to kidnapp me? Or pheraps waiting for my prince in the shining armour." You decided to play along, chuckling softly. "Is that so?" You heard him mutter. The next thing you knew is that the rest of the walk was surrounded by comfortable silence.

After some minutes of walking, you finally arrived next to your house.

-"You know you didn't really need to walk me home, Alastor." You smiled at him. -"I could manage on my own." You both stopped in front of your front door.

-"Oh please, dear.."- He chuckled. -"I wouldn't want someone ruining this pretty face of yours." He took your hand in his, kissing your knuckled lightly. You blushed slightly at the gesture, not sure if it was noticeable in the moonlight. You both said your goodbyes after that, him leaving you speechless with his charming words and gestures.

You opened your frontdoor, seeing your adorable sleeping cat, Sophia. You were extra careful not to wake her up since she was sleeping on the front mat. Deciding to leave her be, you waddled into your kitchen, wanting something to eat.

Your mind wandering to the events that just happened. You thought carefully about every word Alastor said and then you realized. Almost fainting, your face turned red. "Oh my... Has he called me pretty and buetiful in the same day?"

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #human alastor #human alastor x reader #human! alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n

158 notes · View notes