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queers-gambit · 1 year

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Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

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wandaromanoffroses · 28 days

Text

Ovulation

G!P Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, masturbating, oral sex (R and Natasha receiving), finger sucking, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (P in V), overstimulation

Summary: You're ovulating while on a mission, causing you to be uncomfortably aroused. Luckily, the agent with you is more than eager to help you out...

WC: 4.1k

The motel was just like any other – grey, dusty and lit only by dim off-white. You would only be here for a night and when you pressed your hand against the cold metal of the radiator, you were glad. You debated whether or not you ask the receptionist about it but keeping your head low was key when travelling on an undercover mission. The more questions you asked and the more times your face was seen and captured by CCTV, the greater the risks. You decided against it.

You inspected the bedroom, following safety procedures which included searching for signs of any electronic devices but luckily, there were none. The bed was a small double with beige, striped sheets that were thinner than you would’ve liked. The back wall was taken up entirely by a sturdy, wooden cupboard that matched the tawny-brown, bedside tables covered in dust. You switched on the lamp and ran your hand over the mattress, noting that you would need to wear thick layers of clothing to bed. You assumed the other bedroom was the same but didn’t bother checking. The other agent could do that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. One of the things you hated most about being a woman and a spy was the problems it caused when it conflicted with your cycle. Missions on your period were uncomfortable, draining and painful. Ovulation week was also a mess; you had no way of dealing with the surge of hormones it triggered while on a mission. You made a mental note to take a cold shower after the other agent arrived.

You read over the intel for the upcoming mission while you waited for them, straining your ears for the door. It was a complicated mission; you had to infiltrate the base of a growing terrorist organisation and hack into their systems to gather as much information about them as you could. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew scarily little about the organisation so you were going in almost blind – anything could happen.

The plan was for two agents, including you, to blend in as one of the terrorists to get into the base. You were unaware of the identity of the agent you were paired with. You were curious to know if they were someone you’d worked with before or a complete stranger. You assumed the latter – you were still young and hadn’t been assigned to many difficult missions yet. You tightened your arms around yourself, shivering as the light outside the window was sucked from the sky, the moon blocked out by an array of dark, restless clouds.

“You look cold.” You jumped and leapt on your feet, spinning around to see a woman standing behind you. Her face was painted with a smirk and she looked at you with her hands on her hips, her jade eyes travelling up and down your body. You swallowed. How did you not hear her come in? S.H.I.E.L.D. weren’t exaggerating when they said she was the very best they had at espionage. You didn’t realise you were staring at her until she brought you out of your thoughts, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Uh, sorry,” you said, clearing your throat, “Yeah, I am. East Europe is always freezing at this time of year.” You could feel sweat trickling down your neck. Not only were you ovulating on a mission but you were stuck with an extremely attractive woman during it. You were so fucked.

“Mm, it is,” she said, stepping towards you and offering out her hand. You noticed the electrified branches of azure and emerald running down her arms up to her fingers, pushing up against the skin, your heart thundering against your ribcage. You quickly pulled yourself out of your trance. You were a spy for goodness sake, not the nervous wreck or helpless whore your elevated levels of estrogen were making you feel like. You shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, “I’m Agent Y/l/n.” You pulled your hand away from hers before she could pick up on your clammy palms but unbeknownst to you, she’d already felt them.

“I know,” she said, “I’m Agent Romanoff but to you, it’s Natasha.” You could feel your breath hitch in your throat. Natasha. You could already imagine how those three, pretty syllables would feel falling off your tongue.

You dismissed your dirty thoughts immediately, feeling ashamed of yourself. She was a stranger and your teammate; you seriously needed to pull yourself together. She nodded to the file in your hand, “I see you’re already prepared for the mission.”

“I was just double-checking all the details,” you said. The tight, black shirt and jeans she was wearing hugged her in all the right places, her sculpted arms in full view to you. She must take her training seriously, you thought, I wonder how often she goes to the gym.

“Good,” she said, dropping her bag on the floor, “I already know I’ll enjoy working with you.” You placed your hands behind your back so she couldn’t see your fidgeting fingers. Your gaze fell onto the bag and you frowned.

“Oh, were you planning on sleeping in here?” You said, “I’ll move to the other room then.” She held her arm in front of you as you stepped towards the door.

“There isn’t another room.” You felt your heart drop. You realised the other door must be to the bathroom. You couldn’t imagine how your situation could get any worse, “Are you unhappy with that arrangement?”

“No, not at all,” you lied, “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.” You swallowed, hard. You started moving towards the door, “I’m going to take a shower,” you mumbled, not waiting for her answer. You fumbled with the handle, cursing under your breath and slammed the door shut behind you.

You didn’t waste any time taking off your clothes and turning on the shower, sighing as the cold droplets collided with your burning skin. The water only offered you a few moments of relief, however. The more you thought about the redhead and how close you’d be together that night, the more you fed the raging arousal between your legs. It became clear that there was only one way you were going to calm yourself down.

You covered your hand with your mouth as you touched yourself, your mind overwhelmed by images of Natasha. It didn’t take long for you to reach your climax and you were certain that the sound of the shower and your hand had muffled out all your moans. You cleaned yourself before stepping out, drying yourself with a towel and getting dressed, praying that your body would be satisfied for the night. When you returned to the bedroom, Natasha was on the bed facing you, resting a pillow on her lap.

“You’re even prettier in real life than you are in your pictures,” she said, the unexpected compliment drowning you in butterflies. You noticed that her cheeks were flushed a bright red and her breaths seemed more laboured than before.

“Really?” you said in disbelief. You had never seen yourself as unattractive but you didn’t think you were anything special either. You were nothing compared to the Goddess in front of you, that was for sure. She chuckled.

“You’re a humble one,” she mused, “How cute.” You couldn’t quite believe her words. Natasha thought you, of all people, were humble? You searched the room, looking for any kind of escape from the conversation and spotted a clock hung above the bed.

“It’s getting late,” you said, trying to hide your stutter, “I’ll sleep on the floor.” You knew it would be uncomfortable but anything was better than being next to Natasha. You’d slept in awkward places before so you’d just have to deal with it.

“No you won’t,” she said, shuffling to the other side of the bed and lifting the sheets, “There’s room for both of us, see?” The amount of room wasn’t the problem – it was the proxemics between you and the internal chaos your body was experiencing. How were you supposed to explain that to Natasha though? You noticed the moment your eyes fell on her that her autonomy wasn’t the same as yours so she wouldn’t understand your dilemma.

“Uh, okay,” you said, knowing you had no choice. You never sounded nervous or vulnerable, not even with your close family and friends. If embarrassment was a type of poison, you’d have collapsed in agony by now. You climbed into bed beside Natasha, turning your back to her. You were reminded of how small the bed was when you shifted slightly and felt her hand brush against the small of your back. You took a deep breath. You were in for a long night.

She switched off the bedside lamp and to your horror, you could hear her unbutton her jeans and discard them on the floor. It was almost as if she was doing it on purpose. You tensed your muscles, forcing yourself to stay as still as humanely possible so there was less chance of you accidentally making contact with each other again.

“That’s better,” she mumbled and you felt her leg against yours as she adjusted her position to make herself more comfortable. You didn’t know how long it took for you to fall asleep with her body so close to yours, her breath creating goosebumps along every part of your skin that it hit. Unfortunately, you found out the hard way that your head was the worst place to escape to you in your current state.

You woke up, gasping and blinded by the darkness around you. You pushed yourself up, feeling the slick on your thighs from the filthy dream you had just experienced. Natasha’s head had been buried between your thighs and you had been an absolute mess beneath her. You could honestly die from humiliation – how could your mind conjure up something so vile while you were sleeping next to her? As you were about to move off the bed and sprint into the bathroom, a light was switched on and you felt a hand tighten around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Natasha said, a dark rasp accompanying her words, “You are not going into the bathroom to fuck yourself again.” Your eyes widened and you felt a tide of heat rush to your cheeks. She’d heard you.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “I shouldn’t have, it was really inappropriate of me…” She silenced you by straddling your hips, trapping you beneath her on the bed. Before you could react, you were distracted by the feeling of something hard against your stomach. You looked down to see Natasha in only her boxers, the bulge pressing against your abdomen straining in its confines. Your jaw dropped. It had never even occurred to you that there was a chance she’d want you too.

“I was going to let you make the first move,” she said, “But you took too long.” From how the other agents described you, she had been so sure your boldness and confidence would’ve caused you to spring onto her immediately. She was annoyed that she’d had to listen to you pleasure yourself in the shower without her but at the same time, Natasha loved that her presence had changed your demeanour so much.

You gulped and looked up into her eyes, seeing that her iris had shrunk into a thin line around her blown pupils. You drunk in the sight of her on top of you, placing your hands on top of her bare, supple thighs, her skin like velvet beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathed. She tilted up your chin, running her thumb over your bottom lip, wanting a better view of you.

“Tsk tsk. Such a dirty mouth.” You knew you shouldn’t be letting her walk all over you but you were enjoying it more than you wanted to admit. She lifted herself off your body so she could move her other hand to the waistband of your trousers. She hooked a finger underneath the material, “Can I?” You nodded and she dug her nails into your chin, “I want to hear you say it.” You weren’t used to this power dynamic – you were always the more dominant one.

“Yes,” you said, “You can. Please.” She grinned at your obedience and slipped her hand into your pants, feeling you drip onto her fingertips. She groaned.

“Oh God, you’re so wet already,” she said, “I could stuff you with my cock right now if I wanted to.” She removed her hand from your underwear and brought it to your mouth, pushing her fingers past your lips. You sucked her digits hungrily, tasting yourself on your tongue. The sight only drove Natasha even crazier but she also felt a pang of envy, wishing it was her cock in your mouth instead. You felt so good around her fingers.

After pulling her digits out of your mouth, she lowered herself onto your body and she didn’t hesitate to connect her lips with yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. Her lips moulded against yours perfectly and you moved in sync with her, your kisses becoming more and more desperate. She could taste your sweetness as she kissed you and she forced herself to forget about breathing, not wanting to pull away for even a second. Her hands cupped your face and you reached up to tangle yours in her hair, her lips staining yours with garnet lust.

You pulled her even closer against your chest, your mind a buzz of her and her only. You let her tongue slide between your teeth when you felt it press against your bottom lip, making no effort to fight against it with your own. She swallowed your whines, her crotch grinding against your thigh. You had never hooked up with anyone before; you weren’t that kind of person. But you were willing to break all your rules for Natasha and give every part of you to her without hesitation.

Her mouth moved to your jawline, littering your face with kisses, her hands trailing down your arms. You shivered under her feather-light touch, gasping as her teeth sunk into your neck, intending to leave a bruise that everyone else would see. She tugged at the hem of your shirt.

“Take it off,” she said. She leaned back to give you space to pull it over your head and unhook your bra before she pounced on you like an animal. She traced her fingers over your collarbones before venturing further down to your chest, her fingers circling your nipples. You arched into her touch as she caressed your breasts, her movements sending a spark straight to your core. You reached down to cup her bulge, noticing the wet patch on her boxers but she slapped your hand away, “No touching,” she snapped.

“Please, Natasha,” you said, “I need you; it hurts.” She tutted.

“Patience,” she husked. She pulled away from you and started taking off her clothes, freeing her aching breasts before pushing down her boxers. Her erection sprang out from the material, the tip inflamed and ringed by an enraged red, pre-cum dribbling onto the sheets beneath her.

She led back onto the pillow, giving you a full view of her body and you took a moment to admire her. Everything about her was a masterpiece – her facial features, her muscles, her curves. Her crimson hair was a mess around her shoulders and the front pieces had fallen forward, framing her face, “I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” You shook your head.

“No, Natasha,” you pleaded, “It’ll feel so much better in my pussy, I promise…” You fell silent as her eyes burnt into you. You reluctantly crawled over to her on all fours, hesitating before wrapping your mouth around the tip. You tried to irk her, moving as slow as possible but she grabbed a hold of your head and started pushing you down on her cock.

“Suck.” You gagged around her length as she started bucking her hips upwards so she was fucking your mouth but the sound only drove her more. It didn’t take long for you to start moving your head up and down her cock without any guidance, guttural moans escaping Natasha’s mouth from the warmth and skill of your tongue, “Fuck, that shut you up.”

Tears spilt down your cheeks as she hit the back of your throat over and over again, the vibrations of your whines sending even more waves of pleasure through her body. She lifted her legs onto your shoulders so you could grab onto her thighs, spurring you on even more, “I’m so close,” she breathed. Her thrusts were messy and out of rhythm by the time she came undone, spilling her cum into your mouth. You made sure to swallow it all.

She pulled her cock out of your mouth, a mixture of cum and drool coating her length, some of it dribbling down your chin, “You did so well. Such a good slut for me.” She took a moment to catch her breath, watching with eagerness as you pulled down your trousers and your panties that were positively ruined, throwing them on the floor. There were tears of white running down your legs and your clit was visibly swollen. She smirked wickedly, “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Please, I’ve been a good girl,” you whined. You tried to reach for her again but she caught hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Lie down.” You went to lay on your back but she grabbed your shoulders, her nails indenting crescent-moons into your skin before pushing you down onto your stomach. You gasped as her hand pressed against your cunt, her fingers running through your sensitive folds. Her movements were slow and deliberate, intending to increase your need but not give in to it.

“More,” you begged as her thumb massaged your clit. The smell of sex was heavy in the air and your senses were intoxicated by the vanilla and brown sugar fragrance of her perfume. She gave your clit a sharp pinch in response to your pleas, causing you to inhale a sharp intake of breath.

“You’re insatiable,” she said, “You’re begging to be fucked by a woman you just met. Like a whore.” You started rubbing your crotch against her hand, your motions erratic and frantic.

“More, please,” you cried, your thoughts becoming incoherent as the need between your legs started to burn, “Please, Natasha.” She pushed two fingers inside of you, stretching out your entrance but making sure to avoid your g-spot.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside of me,” you groaned as she added a third digit to your cunt. Natasha started to play with her breasts using her free hand; she was burning for you just as badly as you were for and the sound of your begging only worsened her desire. It took all the strength in her body to hold herself back and not ruin you right there and then. She was so glad you couldn’t see her.

“I am inside of you.” You whined.

“I want your cock. I need it inside of me, please.” She grabbed hold of your hips, smirking. As much as she enjoyed seeing you so needy for her, her patience was wearing thin.

“Then you’ll take it all.” She suddenly rammed inside you without any warning, not being able to resist you for any longer and you cried out in shock. Your initial discomfort was drowned by explosive bliss as Natasha filled you to the brim, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. She was met with no resistance as she rutted into you despite her size which stretched you out deliciously. Your pussy was so much better than she could’ve ever imagined.

She flattened herself against your back, needing to feel more of you. She grunted against your ear as her hips slammed into your ass with each powerful stroke. You were dizzy with pleasure as her speed increased, your moans intensifying as she started to pound into your sweet spot. She was older and more experienced than anyone you had been with before which was evident in how she was making you feel. Your body was coursing with more pleasure than you thought was humanely possible.

The knot in your stomach was tightening fast and the sounds of your wet cunt were echoing through the room, “Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” Natasha said, not caring about her dignity anymore, too lost in the sensation of your warmth clenching around her cock, “Tell me how you feel baby.”

“I feel so, so good,” you said, “Please, don’t stop.” You looked back at her and she tilted her head so your lips could connect for a moment before her mouth moved to your shoulder. She sucked on the soft skin there, slowing down so she could sink deeper into your cunt. She could feel your legs trembling beneath her own as you pushed back in rhythm with each of her thrusts.

“How close are you?” Natasha didn’t want to admit it but she was already teetering on the edge, struggling to hold back from how well you were taking her. You could feel her movements become sloppy as more and more of your juices gushed from your entrance.

“So close,” you said, your walls clenching even harder around her cock. It only took a few more thrusts before you could feel gasoline flood your bloodstream, ready to be set on fire, “Natasha, f-fuck…” You didn’t even have to say it.

“Let go for me,” she commanded. You let the knot in your stomach unravel, screaming her name as all the nerves in your body were electrified, sparks of searing light shooting across your vision. No drug could replicate the state of euphoria you were both lost in as your walls were drowned by white, your cunt milking her cock dry until there wasn’t a single drop left to give. You had never experienced an orgasm so strong, so prolonged, so incredible. You expected Natasha to stop after fucking you through your high but instead, she picked up her pace again. You whimpered.

“Natasha, that’s enough…” She pulled out of you and flipped you onto your back before slipping straight back inside of you. Your eyes widened.

“What’s wrong?” she mocked, “You begged for my cock, slut. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She smirked when you didn’t give her an answer, already drowning in ecstasy again despite the building ache between your legs. You were losing your grip on reality as the new angle gave her access to more places inside of you and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you were overstimulated.

She didn’t take her eyes off you, wanting to see your reaction to everything she gave you. You were growing more sensitive by the second and you could feel her cock throbbing against your walls each time you squeezed her, drops of perspiration gleaming on every inch of your skin. You reached up to cup Natasha’s breasts, the extra layer of stimulation pushing her towards yet another climax in record time.

She started to rub your clit, hoping to speed up your release but it was becoming evident she’d have to release without you. You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her even closer and for a moment, she forgot your pleasure, getting too lost in her own. She tore her eyes away from you and threw her head back, panting like a dog.

“Cum inside me,” you said and at the sound of your words, she didn’t hesitate, letting her orgasm crash into her body with full force. She moaned your name between gasps as she was hit by waves of bliss that slowly decreased in intensity as the milliseconds passed, pulsing through her entire body. She finally pulled out of you and collapsed on the bed. You both gasped for breath, your thighs and the sheets beneath you stained with lust. You were glad you hadn’t climaxed this time – you didn’t think you’d have survived it.

“That was fucking incredible,” Natasha admitted, turning her head to face you. You nodded in agreement, too fucked out to form a sentence, your limbs still shaking from adrenaline.

That morning, Natasha woke you up with her cock between your legs, already hard and ready for another round. Her hands only left your body during the mission and three days later after its success, she didn’t hesitate to fuck you senseless until you passed out.

A/n - I have an idea for part two so let me know if that's something you'd like.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #mcu #marvel smut #mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #g!p natasha romanoff #g!p natasha x reader #g!p natasha

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skzdarlings · 7 months

Text

lady-like ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: ❛ i'd say you need someone to put you in your place. ❜ W CHAN I BEG OF YOU + original ask: requested by anonymous: “You want gentle? Wrong fucking address”+ Chan <3

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: enemies to lovers, established lovers. criminal!chan, masked!chan. dom!chan, sub!reader (background mentions of switching). choking, floor sex, rough sex, dirty talk. brief mention of some sexism in the workplace. word count: 2050 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

It is the middle of the night and you are patrolling the art gallery yourself. You do not trust your colleagues or the security team tonight. No one believes there is any way to track the SKZ gang but you have found an undoubted pattern. That motley band of thieves have struck this gallery more than once, making off with paintings and artifacts alike, but tonight you will catch them.

Tonight you will catch him.

Your thought conjures him like a devil. You turn a corner and a gloved hand escapes the shadows, covering your mouth. You are yanked backwards, right into his chest, your back to his front.

You feel a moment of satisfaction because ha, you were right. No one believed you but you knew SKZ would strike tonight.

Then you are furious because those rotten thugs are probably making off with a priceless artifact while their leader holds you hostage.

“Hey there,” Bang Chan says in that too-friendly drawl. “How’s my favourite girl tonight?”

You try biting his hand but the leather of his glove is quite thick. Probably on purpose. You have left more than one bite mark on him in past encounters.

“Ah-nah-nah,” he says, steadying you when you wriggle. “Stop that. We both know how this ends. Let’s play nice this time instead, yeah?”

You answer by stomping on his foot and throwing your head back. The smack surprises him and he stumbles, giving you an opportunity to turn and brace yourself in a more defensible stance. You face him, hands up, adrenaline thundering through your body.

Chan is wearing all black, including a beanie and mask. He removes the hat, revealing hair just as black, but keeps the mask while rubbing his jaw. The half-hidden face somehow makes the dark intensity of his eyes look even more severe.

You and Chan have a played a long game of cat-and-mouse. You are so used to his teasing that you almost forget he is dangerously competent man. A criminal. A criminal you despise. A criminal who is undoubtedly grinning at you under that mask, given the way his eyes crinkle with mirth. It should not make your heart race.

“Ouch,” he says. He takes a step towards you, inching out of the shadows. “You’ve been training. Impressive.”

“Not like I had a choice,” you snap. “Some no good criminal keeps attacking my art gallery.”

“Criminal, yeah,” Chan says. “But no good? Really?” He flicks a hand your way, not so much striking as testing your reflexes. You bat it successfully and his eyebrows lift, showing he is moderately impressed.

“You’re a dirty thief,” you say, taking a swing of your own. Yours is much more deliberate, swinging at his head, but he dodges just as easily.

You scamper backwards, his booted steps following swiftly. You keep your hands up in defense. He is still smirking under that mask.

“Thief, yeah,” he continues to tease. “But dirty? Well… I suppose you’d know…”

Heat pulses under your skin.

This cat-and-mouse game has crossed many lines. You cannot even remember how it first happened. It feels like Bang Chan has always been in the shadows, stealing paintings and kisses alike. One moment you were snarking at the infuriating cat burglar, then your hands were in his hair and his mouth was on yours.

Sometimes he wins, distracting you or holding you, giving his team time to make off with something. Sometimes you win, trapping him or his men and only letting them go if they relinquish their prize. Weirdly, Chan seems to like it when you outsmart him. It quite literally puts him on his knees.

Flustered, your next swing is more emotional than strategic. He catches your arm and spins you again, trapping you against his body. You grunt and struggle in his arms.

“That’s not very polite, you know,” he says. “I thought you said you were a lady.”

Yes, you have made such an insistence in the past, reminding him you are a lady of class, an educated woman, an intelligent academic. He did not argue. He did pin you to the wall and choke you in that infuriatingly delicious way, the way that gets you coming all over his hand in a second. That’s it, he said, with a hand around your throat and another under your skirt. Tell me what a lady you are. Letting a criminal like me make you come. Tsk, what would your co-workers say?

You stamp the memory down because it is getting you hot. He is holding you differently than before, so you cannot swing your head back again. You writhe uselessly.

“I didn’t just say I was a lady,” you snap. “I am a lady. I am a respected professional, unlike you—”

“I’m respected and professional, thank you,” he says, his tone still bright like he is having fun.

It is fun. You hate to admit it, but it is. Before he started breaking into your galleries, every day was the same. Your life was such a monotony and you dread returning to it. There is a reason you never call the authorities on him. There would be no triumph in that demise. You would lament his absence and forever feel like business went unfinished.

You are satisfied when you can face this dangerous man and win, when you can push him on his back and put him in his place, when all that danger and power and skill surrenders to you and you alone. Because Bang Chan has a notorious reputation for a lot of things, but fraternizing with civilians is not one of them.

Except you.

Except right now.

“You know what I say, little miss lady?” he asks.

He gives you no time to answer. Your breath catches when he circles that gloved hand around your throat and squeezes. It softens every part of you immediately, like a kitten grabbed by the scruff, instinctively and animalistically submissive in the claws of something powerful.

You whimper, your knees going weak. You know you are wet. You know he knows.

He pulls you against him. You can feel every hard plane of his body, his bulky body armour, his weapons. You feel either a buckle or his bulge against your body, but either way it is irrevocably suggestive. When you wriggle, he squeezes your throat, and you go pliant again.

“I’d say,” he whispers, “you need someone to put you in your place.”

Oh, he has talked about your place many times before. It’s with me, he will insist, fucking you within an inch of your life, making you come again and again, putting you on your knees and bringing out all the hidden dark and dirty parts of yourself. Come on, he will say, we’re perfect for each other, yeah? You know it. Join my team. Come with me.

You do admit, he respects your keen eye and talent, and he acknowledges your expertise far more than the other people at your gallery. It took a year to even be allowed to do substantial tasks, relegated to fetching everyone’s coffee, getting spoken down to because you were a woman whose ambition was considered a nuisance.

That is not enough to resort to a criminal life. Surely?

But for a moment, you can imagine giving into the darkness permanently. Tonight, it is you that surrenders as he drags you both into the shadows and onto the floor. He takes off his jacket and lays it out, pushing you down face-first onto it. You take a dizzying gulp of air while his hands are occupied, removing his gloves, unbuckling his utility belt.

You wait for the moment he lifts your skirt. His breath catches when he realizes you are not wearing anything underneath.

You yelp because he smacks your ass. You look back at him with as much fury as you can muster in your haze of lust.

“A lady,” he says, grabbing your hips and tugging you back. “Sure.”

“I am,” you say, but your voice is rough, your breathing heavy just from his bare fingers gliding down your wet pussy, the evidence of your desire betraying your claims of propriety.

“Sure, baby girl,” he says, because he knows it annoys you even while it makes you clench. He can see the evidence of that too, swearing as he looks at you, making you feel even more exposed and flustered. “You’re made for me, you know that, sweetheart? Always feel so good on my dick. God.”

“You’re taking your time tonight,” you say dryly. “Getting sentimental? Turning into the slow and gentle type?”

He laughs. Then he grabs you by the neck, pinning you to the floor as he sidles up behind you. The head of his cock presses at your entrance, wet with anticipation.

“You want gentle?” he asks. He is inside you with one deep thrust. “Wrong fucking address.”

The truth is, even when rough, he is careful. Your face never leaves his jacket and he knows where to squeeze and hit and press properly. Bizarrely, ridiculously, you are safe in this criminal’s dangerous hands. The biggest threat they pose are just how skilled and deft they are, making you forget about all of those details as he manhandles you and fucks your worries away.

He wraps a hand around your throat and lifts you. He is still in his mask, still almost entirely clothed except his undone fly. Your skirt is up, your shirt in disarray, your chest and throat exposed to his hands. You can hear him panting into his mask, your own breath as wild until he steals it. You clench around him, making a weak, ragged sound as he chokes you and pounds into you.

“You’re not gonna come like this, are ya?” he taunts, because he knows your body well, can feel you are the on verge just from his angles and rhythm. “Tsk,” he says. “That’s not very lady-like.”

You would tell him to shut up, but you can only manage a weepy moan as he drives you over the edge of a mind-numbing orgasm. You feel drenched, dripping down your thighs, and he still doesn’t relent, pushing you back down and holding your hips as he drills through every sensitive nerve.

“Fuck,” you say, twisting your fingers around his jacket. Your knees will probably be bruised after this. No short skirts or everyone will know something happened. Would they guess you let the most notorious burglar in the country arch your back and fuck you on the floor? Probably not. You have always been a stickler for rules.

Until this. Until him.

“Chan,” you say, breathless, rasping. “Chan.”

“Fuck,” he says. Then the weight of him is on your back, his hips grinding into yours. His masked face brushes your ear and he speaks in a low voice, “Guess where I’m coming tonight, baby girl.”

Your walls are still fluttering with aftershocks, pulling him deeper at his words. It is not the first time, no. God only knows how long ago that conversation first happened, telling him it was safe, how much you wanted it. Letting him do things you never let anyone else do. Breaking all your rules for him.

“Fuck, Chan,” you say.

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps. “That’s who’s fucking you. No one fucks you like I do. God. You can take it. So good.”

You can feel when he comes, his chest vibrating with his groan, the warmth inside you. You slump in his arms, ravaged and sore and not the least bit sorry for it.

You should be. He won this round. You should be furious at him. You should be threatening him. Your usual rapport.

His mask comes off. You hear it hit the floor. Then he is grabbing your jaw and turning your face and kissing you deeply. He holds your throat, not threateningly but possessively. He is kissing you for so long, you almost forget who you are. Then you surface. You look at each other.

“Come with me,” he says.

The haze of lust has vanished. You should be thinking clearly. You fear, for the first time, you are.

You suppose he has stolen everything else, why not you too?

You put your hand in his.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan x you #chan x you #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz smut #stray kids smut #valentinesdaystories

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smileysuh · 6 months

Text

heart aches

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper. “Never again,” he promises.

tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job hand fucking, spitting, finger sucking, inklings of oral fixation, praise, dirty talk, pining, reminiscing, breast worship, teasing, Jae being a simp, unprotected sex, handholding while fucking, Jae is pretty vanilla but pent up as hell, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k

🍭 aus. ex's to lovers, non idol au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I don't normally do angst, but Idk, this felt right for some reason this month

Prologue:

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, watching you fiddle around the bedroom while he cuddles with your cat on the bed.

Part of you wants to push back your feelings - you’d kind of been hoping to talk to him at the airport in the morning - but you should have known Jaehyun would realize something is up with you. It’s been a nice long weekend having him home with you.

It’s almost been like he never left.

Almost.

With a deep sigh, you go to sit on the foot of your mattress, staring down at your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say quietly.

The room feels achingly silent, and then the comforter ruffles as Jaehyun sits up. “This?” he asks.

“Us.” The word hurts to even say. “The distance… I mean, I knew continuing our relationship while you’re in a different city at a new university doing your graduate program would be rough… but… I just didn’t know I’d ever feel this lonely.”

Tears are welling in your eyes. You don’t want to break up with Jaehyun- he’s had your heart for four years. Starting over with someone new sounds impossible- but at the same time, being away from him hurts more than you could ever have imagined. It hurts when he calls you every night, being the perfect boyfriend, smiling and telling you about his day. It hurts because you thought you’d go through life together- you thought you’d be there to see it all yourself, not hear about it after the fact on the phone.

“Come here,” Jaehyun says softly, moving your cat off his lap so he can open his arms to you.

You allow Jaehyun to pull you into an embrace, his fingers stroking your hair. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, and you can hear it as you cuddle closer.

“I’m sorry that it came to this,” he breathes, “but I understand.”

You can’t help the tears now, and a choked sob escapes you. You grab at the front of his soft hoodie, wanting to crush the emblem of his new school. Part of you wishes he’d never been accepted into the elite business graduate program, but another part knows that Jaehyun deserves to be where he is now.

You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and that’s what makes this so painful.

Jaehyun needs to focus on his studies, to build a new life for himself across the country- and you need to do the same. You can’t be a ghost anymore, walking through life like a zombie and waiting to hear from him, constantly checking the time zone differences and calculating what he’s doing based on schedules.

“I can still…” you rub at your eyes, swallowing thickly, “I’ll take you to the airport in the morning-”

“It’s okay, baby,” Jaehyun shushes you gently, kissing the crown of your head. “I can get a cab.”

“Are you angry at me?” you ask, pulling away from his chest to look up at his face, worried about what you might find there.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun assures you, immediately stroking a thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears. “No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I knew things had changed when I moved away. I could see that the distance was a problem. You have needs, and I’m proud of you for voicing them, even if it hurts.”

“My heart is breaking,” you whimper.

Jaehyun frowns. “Mine too.”

“You’re really not mad at me?”

“I could never be mad at you,” Jaehyun promises. “I think it will be easier to talk about this with time, if that’s something you’d be interested in. But for now, how do you feel about just laying down, holding each other, and doing our best to enjoy tonight- if it’s going to be our last.”

It might be easier if he was mad at you, if he yelled and swore and tried to make you change your mind- but Jaehyun’s never been an abusive type. Instead, he holds you close, and as you softly cry on his chest, you begin to drift off to sleep.

One

Even in a crowded bar, one distant laugh makes your blood run cold. You grip your drink, heart thundering in your rib cage as you scan your surrounding area.

It’s been two years since you broke up with Jaehyun. Even so, you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“You good?” your best friend asks, reading your change in expression.

“Yeah, I just thought I heard-” as you’re about to say his name, you spot Jaehyun. He’s leaning against the bar top, chatting with a man whose back is to you.

God, he still looks so good.

Your chest aches, throat going dry. As you watch him, his eyes move to take in the bar. You’re quick to shift your gaze, lifting your drink to your lips to down the rest of it.

“I need to get out of here,” you mutter.

“What? Why?” Your friend reaches for your arm, pulling you closer to check in on you.

“My ex is here.”

“Which one?”

“Which one do you think?” You let out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Listen, have fun, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You hand her your empty glass, giving her one last look before you turn to head to the entrance of the bar.

You can feel eyes on you as you push through the crowd, but you chalk it up to being paranoid. You slip through the front doors, intent on hailing a taxi. As you make it to the cement sidewalk, you hear your name behind you, and that familiar voice has your blood running cold for a second time tonight.

“Y/N?”

Your whole body freezes, and for a moment, you truly consider running. But you’ve already run from Jaehyun once before, and you don’t have it in yourself to do it again.

With a deep breath, you turn to face your ex, your first love, the man you’ve never recovered from.

“I thought that was you,” Jaehyun mutters quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares at you.

You don’t even know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut, taking in his pretty face and the broad set of his shoulders.

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have followed you,” he admits finally. “It doesn’t look like you want to talk.”

Jaehyun turns to head back inside, and your body reacts on its own accord; you grab at his arm, and it makes him stop. He looks down at your hand, wrapped around his forearm, then up at you.

“We…” you swallow thickly, “we can talk. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us.”

You drop your hand from his arm when you realize he’s not going anywhere.

“I uh…” Jaehyun clears his throat. “I got back to town a month ago. Meant to message you- but I didn’t know what to say then either.”

“You completed your program?”

“Yup. With flying colors.”

“I guess I always expected you to be a big shot and move to some other city- what are you doing back here?”

“Unfinished business… maybe.” Jaehyun dips his head, looking down at the ground. You watch him absentmindedly kick at an old cigarette butt.

He can’t be talking about you… can he?

“Anyways,” Jaehyun meets your eyes again, “how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been…” you search for the right word, “okay.”

“Yeah? Happy?”

“Sort of. You?”

Jaehyun shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile that makes your heart ache. “Sort of. It was two years of studying. Didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, as you know.”

So your breakup is still a sore spot for him, you can sense it in his words. He’s not outwardly saying it, but… it’s there all the same. There’s something of an apology in his statement, because you do know how hard it was for him to find time for things outside of school- it had been the main reason you’d had to call things off with him.

“How about you?” he presses. “Any uh… any protective boyfriend who’s about to show up and beat my ass?”

You can’t believe he’s asking you outright about this, and the question actually makes you let out a small laugh. You shake your head. “No. No boyfriend.”

“Good. I mean… I hoped you were happy, but uh, you know, it’s nice to hear that, well, you know what I mean.” Jaehyun looks down again, and you can see his ears turning red.

It’s as clear as day that Jaehyun still cares about you. The way he’s acting tells you everything you need to know… well, almost everything.

“So…” you wrap your arms around yourself, “are you planning on leaving again? Do you know how long you’ll be in town?”

“Nothing is set in stone,” Jaehyun admits, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you. “Listen, I’m just going to say it.” He takes a deep breath, meanwhile, you can’t even breathe. “I never got over you. I mean, how could I? You’re everything, and- I understand why we broke up, I really do. But my program is over now, and if you give me another chance, I promise not to go anywhere ever again, at least, not without you right there by my side.”

“Jaehyun-”

“If you need some time to think about it, I totally get that-”

Jaehyun goes to take a step back, and you find yourself grabbing at him once more. Your body simply can’t let him go- not now, not ever again.

Your ex looks down at your hand on his forearm, and as you open your mouth to give him your response, no words come to mind. Your gaze dips to his lips, and before you know what you’re even doing, you’re moving in to kiss him.

Jaehyun is frozen in place at the initial meeting of your lips, but after a moment, you feel his body relax. His hands gently slip to your waist, tugging you closer as he slants his mouth against your own. You feel him release a small groan, and a whimper bubbles in your chest.

How many times have you dreamt of this moment? How many times have you thought about kissing Jaehyun?

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of him-

Someone lets out a whistle, and you roughly pull back from Jaehyun, your eyes finding the two bouncers outside the bar, who are staring at you with wolfish grins.

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Jaehyun asks, resting his forehead against your own.

“Come home with me.”

Two

It feels like deja vu to be walking into your apartment with Jaehyun. You’ve had the same unit for years- and you know it must feel even weirder for your ex to be here again after practically living here with you for half of your time in university together.

As you toss your keys onto the entryway table, you hear a familiar meow. Your cat slinks in from the kitchen, but instead of heading to you, she immediately moves toward Jaehyun’s feet, letting out an obnoxiously loud purr as she begins to rub against him.

“Looks like Mittens hasn’t forgotten me either,” Jaehyun smiles, immediately bending down to pick up the fluffy grey and white kitty. She leans into his touch, purring like an engine as he scratches he cheeks. Her paws begin to make softies on his arm, and it makes your heart ache.

You’ve dated a few guys casually in Jaehyun’s absence, and Mittens has never liked any of them. She always was a daddy’s girl- after all, you’d started dating Jaehyun only a few months after you’d picked her up from the shelter.

You still have pictures of the two of them on your phone, hidden in a secret file- you’d never had the heart to delete them, and as you watch their reunion, you’re glad you never did.

“She missed you,” you admit. “We both did.”

You watch Jaehyun’s Adam’s apple bob with effort, your words clearly invoking emotion. You’re quick to look away.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask, kicking off your shoes. “I had a few drinks at the bar, was planning on making a grilled cheese-”

“You still do that?” Jaehyun asks.

“Yeah.” Your throat feels dry admitting another ghost of your past you still haven’t been able to shake. “I still do that.”

Grilled cheese after a night out had always been your thing, and when you’d started dating Jaehyun, it had become his thing too. You can’t even count how many nights the two of you came home from university parties only to make a grilled cheese and collapse on your bed, giggling and kissing like kids in love.

“A grilled cheese sounds perfect,” Jaehyun says. “Thank you.”

He follows you into the kitchen. As you begin to make the late-night snack, you realize Jaehyun has no intention of putting Mittens down. She basks in his attention, letting out upset chirps any time he tries to stop petting her to help you in small ways.

Jaehyun asks you about your job, and from that, the two of you begin to talk about your lives over the past two years. It feels too natural to slip into this type of conversation. His presence is so calming and familiar- by the time you’re done making the grilled cheese for you to share, it’s almost as if the past two years never happened.

It’s almost as if you never left him.

Almost as if he never left you first.

“Do you want to eat in here?” Jaehyun asks, heading to the small kitchen table.

“We can go to my bedroom,” you say softly. “Unless you wanted to be here.”

“Your bedroom is good.”

He follows you through your apartment, but when you get to your room, he stops in the doorway.

“I can’t get over how little this place has changed,” he muses, looking at the layout of the space.

“Yeah,” you sit down on your bed, lifting your legs onto the mattress and setting the plate by your knee. “I guess I’m used to it like this.”

Jaehyun knows all too well how comfortable you get, how hard it is for you to make changes. You think it must be one of the reasons he never fought the breakup. If you’d gotten to the point of needing an emotional separation to deal with the physical distance, pushing you to change your mind would have only made things worse.

“Can we come sit with you?” Jaehyun asks.

“Of course.” You gesture to the mattress. “Make yourself at home, Jae.”

With a small chuckle, he comes to join you. He’s careful when he sets Mittens down, and she immediately stretches, letting out a massive yawn before coming to investigate the grilled cheese.

Jaehyun reaches for his half of the sandwich. “I missed these.”

“It’s just a grilled cheese,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but there’s something special about the way you make it. I can’t explain it.”

You can only offer him a smile as you both lift the gooey, cheesy, greasy, crispy bread to your lips. The crunch is satisfying, and Jaehyun shifts the food to his right hand so he can pet Mittens with his left.

The two of you eat in silence, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. As your meal comes to a quick end, your phone begins to ring, and you stand up to answer it. “Give me a sec,” you tell him, exiting the room while Mittens rushes to follow you.

“Hey girl,” your best friend says. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Seeing your ex must have been pretty hard.”

“Actually, uh…” you look toward your open bedroom door, swallowing thickly then lowering your voice, “he’s at my apartment with me.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, we’re talking things out.”

“Just talking?” You can hear the cheeky grin in her voice.

“Don’t be like that,” you laugh.

“Girl, you and that man were a dream couple. He’s the one that got away, and now he’s in your apartment- he’s probably sitting on your bed, eating grilled cheese-”

“God, stop,” you groan. “Am I that predictable?”

“Nah, it was hashtag just couple things. Okay, look, obviously you’re doing good- I was worried you were somewhere crying and drowning yourself in booze. I’ll leave you be. Say hi to him for me.”

“Will do.” You hang up, looking down at Mittens. She’s circling your feet, and with a sigh, you go to refill her food bowl. You’d given her lunch hours ago, and you feel bad that she just watched you down a grilled cheese with nothing for her own little mittens to get a hold of.

Also… your best friend knows you too well.

Your body is reacting to Jaehyun as if there was never a separation- or maybe, your body is reacting because there was a separation. Your pulse is picking up with each step back to your bedroom, and when you close the door behind you, Jaehyun cocks a brow, finishing his grilled cheese with one last large bite.

“You good?” he asks.

“I’m great,” you tell him, approaching the bed.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun’s gaze moves to the closed door, and he offers you a dimpled grin, mischief flaring on the edges of his expression. “You locked out Mittens.”

Nothing gets past this man. You’ve never loved getting intimate while Mittens is trying to hog Jaehyun’s attention, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he got you figured out the moment you closed the door to your bedroom.

“Don’t even with me, Jae.” You sigh, collapsing onto the mattress next to him while he moves the grilled cheese plate to the side table.

“Look, I don’t want you to feel any pressure just cuz I’m here and we’re sitting on your bed-”

“Does it look like I feel pressure?” you ask, hyper-aware of the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Jaehyun gives you a slow once-over. “I guess not.”

“You really mean what you said about not going away a second time?” You look down. “Because I don’t think I could take it if we gave this another try and three months down the line you moved cities again.”

Your ex nods. “I promise. If you give me one more chance, I won’t let you down.”

You stare at Jaehyun for a moment, studying the sincerity on his face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You open your arms, resting back against the pillows and spreading your legs. “Now come here.”

Jaehyun practically leaps on top of you. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, his mouth pressing to your own while you wrap him in a tight embrace. He kisses you like he’s been starved of your lips.

He retains some of the gentleness that he’d exhibited outside of the club, but there’s a desperation too, you can almost taste it on him… along with the grilled cheese.

The thought makes you smile, and Jaehyun breaks the kiss to look down at you, also grinning. “What?”

“Nothing, just- I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he admits, looking down at your beaming face before he grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling your head to the side so he can access your neck. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure.

You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.

“Never again,” he promises, voice husky in your ear.

His hand slides down the curve of your body, grasping at your thighs and slowly pushing your dress up. Your hips move, rutting in an attempt to spur him on. When his fingers finally find your core through your panties, you swear you see stars. He begins to rub your clit, circling it as he applies more and more pressure.

His mouth continues on your neck, and you begin to whimper from the stimulus.

You’d nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by someone who knows you inside and out- by someone who cares about your pleasure more than he’s ever cared about his own.

“Jae,” you whimper, breathing heavily as he rubs your core.

“Yes, baby?” His lips are gentle along your throat, and the feather-light touch almost teases you more than a rougher one would.

“Can we skip the foreplay? I need you.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop on your clit, and he pushes himself up on an elbow, looking down at you with a quizzical set to his brow. “Skip the foreplay?” he repeats, letting out a scoff. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you if you ever gave me a second chance for over two years. We’re not skipping the foreplay.”

“But-”

“Please don’t argue with me. Just let me have this. Just let me enjoy the body I’ve missed so much. I’ve missed your sounds, the way you react to my touch-” his fingers pick up their pace on your clit again, and you let out a whine, pushing toward him again. “See? You’re perfect. No matter how many memories of this I have, nothing compares to the real thing.”

When you’d been dating Jaehyun initially, he was - for lack of a better word - pretty vanilla. This dirty talk is new, and it makes your stomach erupt into butterflies. Your mind goes practically blank, lulled into a lusty trance by the musings of a man who’s clearly bewitched by you, body and soul.

When your gaze dips down to his hand between your thighs, you notice the way his cock is straining in his pants. “Can I…” you swallow thickly, “Can I touch you too?”

“Yeah.” His mouth returns to your throat, and he pushes your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

You mewl at his words, quickly fumbling with the button of his pants so you can push them down just far enough to take his cock out of his briefs. Jaehyun releases a low groan and it makes your pussy flutter as you begin to stroke him.

Your ex reacts by slipping his fingers into your core, two long digits going knuckle deep. He tests your walls, grazing your g-spot when he begins to lazily pump his hand, his palm firmly pressing to your clit.

A whimper of pleasure escapes you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your neck. “The prettiest sounds,” he muses. “How did you ever get this pretty?”

It’s a rhetorical question, and it makes you feel cock drunk and dumb, your chest pushing up against his own, looking for stimulus- your nipples are hard in your bralette, but you wish you were naked already, wish you could feel him better-

“Jae?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take my dress off?”

Jaehyun pulls his hand away from your core, bringing his two wet fingers to your lips. He pushes them into your mouth, propping himself up so he can look down at you while you suck his digits clean. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You groan around his fingers, the act of sucking is turning you on more than you’d care to admit, but it ends too quickly as Jaehyun pulls his hand away.

He sits up, taking off his own shirt first. Then he reaches down to grab at the hem of your dress, slowly dragging it up your form. Jaehyun’s eyes take in each strip of newly exposed skin, and you can see the way his pupils have blown with interest.

You lift your shoulders off the bed, making it easier for him to tear the fabric off of you and toss it to the side. This leaves you in your bralette and panties, both of which you’re eager to have join your dress on the floor.

Jaehyun’s hand reaches out to cup your breast, his thumb smoothing over the pebbled nipple that’s pushing through the silky fabric. He squeezes you gently, forcing you to release a moan of pleasure.

A moment later, he’s removing your panties, then your bra, fingers pinching at your newly exposed nipple.

Your hand, meanwhile, returns to his cock- only for Jaehyun to grab at your wrist, pulling you away.

You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but then Jaehyun turns your hand palm up, and he spits into the center of it, bringing it back to his cock.

There’s no way that action should have been as sexy as it was- your core throbbing as you begin to stroke his rock-hard length.

With one last lustful look at your body, Jaehyun settles over top of you again, his mouth seeking out your breasts while you pump his cock. The feeling of his tongue flicking against you has you crying out, pushing your chest toward his mouth. His teeth graze over your sensitive nipple and you respond by applying more pressure to his cock.

Jaehyun groans loudly, rutting his hips into your hand, which stills so you can allow him to fuck your palm. He continues to worship your breasts while his hips do most of the work, and you surrender yourself to the pleasurable scenario you’ve found yourself in.

“You know…” Jaehyun presses another kiss to your nipple, “I was going to ask you to sit on my face, but… it’s hard being this close to your pretty pussy and not just… slipping it in.”

“Yeah?” You guide his cock closer to your core, so that when he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock glides through your soaked folds. “Then just do it.”

“Here I was, saying not to skip the foreplay- but here I am, giving in to you like always.”

Jaehyun releases a laugh, and it makes you giggle along with him, because it’s true. Jaehyun may have this sexy, devil-may-care attitude, but he’s always been a total simp for you.

He was completely wrapped around your finger when you first met, and he’s completely wrapped around your finger now. It’s interesting how so much can change, and so little can change at the same time.

“You just feel so good,” Jaehyun groans, thrusting again, the tip of his pretty pink flushed cock just slipping inside of you-

“Fuck, Jae, please-” you push your chest up toward his face again, pumping his length, trying to guide him deeper-

He brings his mouth to your own, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss as he sheaths himself into your wet core.

You let out a low whine, wrapping your legs around his hips and releasing his cock in favor of grabbing his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck-” Jaehyun moans, staying still inside of you while your walls pulse around his shaft. “Missed this perfect pussy, baby.”

“Missed your perfect cock,” you retort, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and drawing him in for another kiss.

His tongue clashes against your own, his hands finding your hips so he can steady himself as he begins to rut into you.

You love getting lost in him. You can feel your mind slipping away, your body giving into its primal instincts as Jaehyun makes love to you the way he has so many times before.

One of his hands finds your own, taking it from his shoulder and lacing your fingers above you, pressing you into the pillow. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, breathing heavily.

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to say,” Jaehyun admits.

“Then say it,” you urge him, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

He nuzzles against your palm, closing his eyes for a moment while he enjoys your touch. “I’ve missed everything about you. You’ve been on my mind every day for two years.”

Your heart aches.

“It’s more than just the sex, and you know it. I’ve missed holding you,” he squeezes your hand, “missed sleeping next to you. Missed late-night talks and grilled cheese. Missed your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Missed the way you cry at sad parts in movies-”

As he talks, the pace of his thrusts gets faster, and you find it harder and harder not to moan like a whore and interrupt his cute little speech about missing you.

In fact, it’s hard to even keep your eyes open, but your gaze is caught in his own. Jaehyun’s staring into your soul, baring himself to you like a man who’s brought all his walls down.

“I love you,” Jaehyun says gruffly, “I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one single day. It’s you, and it’s always been you.”

Your stomach muscles clench at his admission, orgasm bubbling to the surface fast from the combination of his movements and his words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you, licking his lips. “Just rub your clit and let me feel your perfect pussy clench around me as you cum, that will be answer enough.”

With a loud whine, you throw your head back against the pillow, threading your free hand between your bodies. The first touch of your fingers on your clit has you throbbing already, and you release a gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaehyun coos, lips finding your throat. “Just like that.”

“Jae-”

“I know, I know you’re close- must be pent up like me, right? We’re both going to cum way too fast, but that’s okay, we have all the time in the world to enjoy each other- the way I’m going to eat your perfect pussy for breakfast tomorrow morning-”

Your core pulses at the thought, and you rub your clit harder.

“Gonna let go for me, right, baby? I’m so close, want you to cum with me.”

“I’m there-” you tell him, shivering as he licks the sweet spot on your throat. ‘Fuck, Jae-”

“You want me to cum inside right? You’re still on the-”

“Cum inside,” you interrupt him. “God, fuck, please- need you to fill me up-”

Jaehyun groans, squeezing your hand again. His lips move from your neck to your mouth, and your tongues clash in a breathless, moan-filled frenzy, your orgasms just out of reach-

One more whimpered “please” out of you has Jaehyun moaning, his high crashing into him. You can feel him filling you up with his cum, and it triggers your own orgasm. A gasp escapes you, your sensitive nipples pressing against his chiseled chest-

You can feel him everywhere. He’s all-consuming. You completely let go, sounds uninhibited, pussy throbbing harder than it has in the past two years.

Jaehyun fucks you through it, until you’re both sweaty, gasping messes. Then he collapses on top of you, giving your captured hand one last squeeze before adjusting. He rolls off of you just enough to tuck you close to his chest, hand finding your hair and beginning to pet you.

You can hear the racing of his heart as he catches his breath.

As you come down from your high, you feel a welling of emotion bubbling inside of you. You’re shocked when a tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re quick to brush it away. Jaehyun notices the movement and tilts his head to assess you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “I’m just…. I’m happy, and I missed you a lot.”

“Baby,” Jaehyun’s fingers draw pretty nothings on your back, “I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I've been reading a lot of shorter smut fics recently, and after doing such a big kick-off in January, I wanted to try a shorter piece again, and challenge myself with a little angst :)

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🔮 preview. “Listen, I promised myself I wasn't going to cum in or on you tonight - you know, seeing as you’re my wife tomorrow and I don’t want to disrespect you - but since you’re begging for it,” Jaehyun slips the tip of his cock inside of you, only to pull away, “I guess I can settle for cumming on your ass, but only if we shower together after.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, creampie, pussy eating champ Jae, pussy worship, fingering, 69, blow job, hand job, deep throating, gentle choking, begging, dirty talk, slight cum kink/mentions of exhibitionism, finger sucking, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

Since you got back with Jaehyun over a year ago, the two of you haven’t been separated for longer than twelve hours, but tomorrow is the day of your wedding, and there are certain traditions about the bride and groom staying apart- so here you are, cuddled on a couch in your hotel room, missing your fiance.

When your phone rings and Jaehyun’s pretty face shows up as the contact on your screen, you fumble over yourself to pause your movie and answer it. “Jae?”

“Hey, baby. What room are you in again?”

You think about it for a moment. You’d never actually told him where you’re staying in the hotel… “Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe I wanna send my fiance flowers before our wedding tomorrow.”

God, why’s he so charming?

You give him your room number without a second thought, hanging up with an ‘I love you.’

Five minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and you open it to find Jaehyun standing there with a massive dimpled grin on his face, and a vase of flowers in his hands. “Hi, baby.”

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2K notes · View notes

dearly-somber · 7 months

Text

hyunga’s sleeping | l.mh

-> pairing. idol!minho x non-idol!reader (f)

-> genre. Established relationship, domestic fluff.

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1101

-> warnings. None!

-> a/n. This was fueled by pure, unadulterated Minho & Soon-Doong-Dori (SDD) brainrot.

-> skz drabble, oneshot & series m.list

-> started. Feb. 23rd, 2024 @ 16:51

-> fin. Fri., Mar. 1st, 2024 @ 19:40

-> edited. Sat. Mar. 2nd, 2024 @ 15:40

-> divider credit. @plum98

“Eomoni!”

“Y/N, darling, come in!”

Minho’s mom wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling you inside with a big smile on her face. She waves you off as you slip out of your shoes and into a pair of bright pink Hello Kitty slippers Minho bought for you as a joke years ago, forcefully prying the bag of goodies you bought on your way here from your fingers.

“I hope I’m not intruding—?”

“Hush!” Mrs. Lee chides with a smile, “Stop worrying so much.” Her hand hovers by the small of your back, guiding you up the last step into the living room.

“Is Minho here? He said he was coming home today…”

“Yes, he’s here. He’s in his room.” Minho’s mom sets the plastic bag on the counter, and you naturally go to help her unpack what you bought, shelving things like you live here.

“I—hello, abeonim.” You bow at Mr. Lee, closing your eyes contentedly when he comes around the counter to give you a fatherly side-hug that squishes you against him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, ruffling your hair as he lets you go in favor of helping his wife unpack.

You shrug, walking around to the other side of the counter. “Thought I’d pop in to say hi. I missed the kittens very much.”

Mr. Lee laughs, shaking his head at you. “Of course, the kittens.” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

You can’t help the grin tugging at your mouth, clearing your throat to speak. “Speaking of, where are the babies? I haven’t seen any of them since I got here.”

“Last time I checked they were all with Minho in his room,” his mom says, putting away the bottle of red wine you bought for dinner later tonight.

“Great! I can kill two birds with one stone.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

She snickers at you, shooing you away with a fond smile. “Go say hi and then come sit with us—we found a documentary we thought you’d like.”

“Okay, eomoni.” You smile at her and hope your pure love and adoration for her isn’t written too clearly on your face, afraid she might tease you. You walk with light steps in the direction of Minho’s room, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

“Minho-ssi,” you sing-song, rounding the corner with a light and airy step-a-step you’re pretty sure you saw somewhere in Thunderous’s choreography.

Mreow?

“Doong-Doong-ah?” Your lips jut out in a surprised pout, looking down at the talkative orange tabby with a tiny furrow in your brow. Following the lump of white sheets behind him, you finally make out Minho’s all-black clad body hidden under all the fluff.

You smile.

“Is hyunga sleeping?” you whisper, walking over on the tips of your toes before crouching in front of Doongie, scratching behind his ears with a soft smile. He mrews, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans his head into your hand. To your right, Dori hugs what you think is a bottle of lotion between his white socked-paws, his tail flicking with each nibble he delivers to the hard plastic.

You let your hand wander over Dori’s side and chide him with a half-hearted hiss when he clamps his teeth around your knuckles, shaking it off with a smile when he pauses a second before giving your hand a couple of licks.

You give his side one last pat before walking around Minho’s feet, only noticing Soonie as he’s cuddling into your boyfriend’s duveted stomach.

You can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips, crouching next to the sleeping cats to card your fingers through Soonie’s fur, feeling a familiar sense of pride swell in your chest at his appreciative purr.

And then you’re looking up at Lee Minho, your body tingling all over at the serenity on your sleeping beauty’s face, unable to help but reach out and let your hand run over his hair; a little frizzy at the ends but otherwise straight; he must not have been sleeping for very long.

You drag your hand over Minho’s head with an inexplicable softness constricting your throat, wishing you could lean down and kiss him without running the risk of waking him up.

You jump a little when Minho lets out an adorable grunt as he slowly pries his eyes open.

“Jagi?” he mumbles.

“Did I wake you?” you coo, combing your fingers through his fringe.

“Mmm.”

You chuckle, letting the pads of your fingers brush over his forehead, over his eyelids. “Ever the truthman.”

“Truthman?” he grumbles, bringing a hand up to loosely hold your wrist between his fingers.

“When did you get home?” You let your hand wander over his cheek.

“A few hours ago…”

“From practice?”

He guides the palm of your hand against his lips. “Mmm...”

He kisses your hand, turning onto his back (much to Soonie’s dismay) and throwing the duvet around his hips before tugging on your arm with surprising strength.

You yelp, practically falling on top of him. He lets out a back-of-the-throat kind of giggle that sends tingles down your arms, using his hands on your hips to shift you higher up his abdomen.

Minho lets out a satisfied hum-sigh against the top of your head, his fingers massaging the skin at your waist before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your trousers, letting the elastic keep his hands in place.

“Baby,” you say, softly—knowing his parents are waiting for you downstairs but feeling so tempted to sink into his warmth and stay there until the end of days.

“No,” he huffs, nuzzling your temple. “Lay with me for a bit.”

You can’t help but laugh, subtly shaking your head. Of course he knows. “Okay, but only for a minute. Your mom invited me downstairs to watch a—“

“Shh, jagi, I’m trying to sleep.”

———

“Y/N, sweetheart, we’re—“

Mrs. Lee stops in her tracks, right outside Minho’s room. The sight she comes across brings an immediate smile to her face, and she can’t help but take her phone out and snap a picture to give to her son later:

Minho, his arms wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, legs intertwined. And surrounding you, Soonie, Doongie and Dori; the youngest of the trio laying by his hyung’s head. Doongie lays by your feet, and Soonie sleeps just off to the side, his legs stretched out in front of him.

As she sits back down with her husband, Mrs. Lee can’t help but think: she can’t wait for the day Minho asks for her mother’s ring.

1K notes · View notes

just-aake · 16 days

Text

A Feline Connection

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha makes a new furry little friend and becomes captivated by its owner along the way.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 4270

Natasha shoots upright in her bed, her heart racing and cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her hand instinctively reaches for the knife tucked nearby, gripping it tight as she scans the room, her pulse thundering in her ears.

She’s met with silence. The darkened space of her room at the Compound was empty of any threat. No footsteps, no shadows lurking—just her.

Exhaling shakily, Natasha lowers the blade, pressing her free hand against her eyes, as though she could push away the remnants of the nightmare from her mind.

The memories linger, though. They always do.

A quick glance at the clock tells her it’s 4:00 A.M. Too early for anyone else to be awake.

But for Natasha, this was normal.

Sighing, she swings her legs out of bed, trying not to dwell on how long it had taken to fall asleep in the first place.

Three hours of sleep was better than nothing.

She dresses quickly, pulling on her jogging clothes in automatic, well-practiced movements, intent on escaping the restlessness that always comes with her dreams.

The sky was still dark when she went outside, the first hints of light barely on the horizon, but Natasha set off anyway, her pace swift and determined.

With every stride, the tension in her body begins to ease, her breathing falling into a steady rhythm that mirrored the pounding of her feet against the pavement.

This was her moment of relief—where she could forget, even if just for a while—pushing her body harder, faster, hoping to leave behind the lingering shadows of her past.

After a few miles, Natasha slows to a stop beside a tree, her breath coming in even pants as she stretches out her arms.

The world was still quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves.

Then, faintly, she hears something.

A soft, distressed sound.

She freezes, tilting her head to listen.

There it is again—a tiny cry coming from somewhere nearby.

From above?

Her gaze lifts upward, and there, high up in the tree, a little black cat clings precariously to a branch, its claws struggling to maintain a grip on the rough bark.

Natasha blinks in surprise, but before she can react to the sight, the cat lets out a desperate yowl and slips.

Moving on instinct, Natasha surges forward and catches the cat just before it hits the ground. She cradles the small creature against her chest securely.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs, her fingers gently checking for any injuries. Its fur is soft and clean—not a stray, then.

Her suspicion is confirmed when she notices the sleek collar around its neck, the gold tag gleaming faintly in the early light.

Natasha tilts the tag to read the name engraved on it.

“Widow?”

An amused smirk tugs at her lips at the irony.

At the sound of its name, the cat looks up at her with wide, inquisitive yellow eyes and lets out a tiny, plaintive meow.

Natasha couldn’t help but chuckle softly, sinking down to sit against the tree with the cat still nestled in her arms.

“What were you doing up there?” she asks, her voice a soft murmur as she scratches behind its ears.

The cat responds with a long, dramatic meow as if offering some elaborate excuse for its predicament.

Natasha smiles softly in amusement before glancing at the tag again, searching for any contact information but finding none.

“Well, you obviously belong to someone,” Natasha muses, lifting the cat to meet its gaze. “They must really trust you to make it back on your own, huh?”

In response, the cat swats playfully at Natasha’s face, its soft paws barely grazing her skin.

Natasha shakes her head with a smile and tries to set the cat down to let it go on its way, but to her surprise, the cat clings to her, its claws digging into the front of her shirt.

“Hey, easy now,” Natasha grumbles, gently trying to pry the cat off, but it stubbornly clings to her, refusing to let go.

“Really? This is the thanks I get for saving you?” she deadpans, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature.

The cat chirps, blinking up at her innocently before nuzzling against her chin.

“Alright, I surrender,” Natasha sighs, settling back against the tree in resignation, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the cat’s fur.

The warmth of the tiny creature in Natasha’s arms is unexpectedly comforting. Before she realizes it, her eyelids grow heavy, and exhaustion finally pulls her under.

It’s not until a soft movement against her arms stirs her that Natasha blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. As her vision clears, the first thing she sees is your face, watching her from a nearby bench, chin resting casually on your hand.

“You have my cat,” you say, your tone flat but not unkind.

Natasha blinks again, still shaking off the grogginess from the unexpected nap. She glances down to find Widow still nestled in her arms, staring up at her with wide, expectant eyes.

As she processes your words, Natasha loosens her hold and sits up straighter.

Widow hops onto her lap, stretching languidly and letting out a tiny yawn, completely at ease.

“Your cat was stuck in a tree,” Natasha explains, her voice still rough with sleep. “I caught her when she fell.”

You raise an eyebrow, your gaze flicking to the lazily stretching cat.

“You do know they land on their feet, right?”

Natasha opens her mouth to argue but pauses, catching the subtle teasing in your tone. She leans back with a small smirk, deciding to tease you back.

“Widow is kind of a strange name for a cat.”

At her remark, you scoff and cross your arms, leaning back on the bench with a playful glint in your eyes.

“Wow, so you’re a thief and you’re judgy. Maybe next time I won’t be so nice and let you finish your nap.”

“I didn’t steal your cat,” Natasha retorts, unable to suppress the slight curve of her lips, trying and failing to hide her amusement. “She wouldn’t let go of me. Also, you watched me sleep. Isn’t that a little weird?”

You shrug with casual ease and respond with a softened tone.

“You looked like you needed it.”

Your bluntness catches Natasha off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She blinks, surprised not only by your remark but by the realization that she hadn’t woken up immediately when you arrived.

The fact that she was able to rest so peacefully with a practical stranger nearby is something she never would’ve thought possible—but here she is.

As the sun rises higher for the start of the day, its gentle light softens the tension between you. It casts a warm glow over everything, including you, and Natasha finds herself at a loss for words at the sight.

After a moment, you stand, calling Widow to your side.

The cat stretches one last time before hopping down from Natasha’s lap and trotting over to you with a playful spring in its step.

As you turn to leave, you glance back at Natasha, a faint smile playing on your lips.

“Maybe find a better spot for naps next time,” you say, giving her a backward wave. “Take care, Miss Black Widow.”

Natasha watches you walk away, something unfamiliar stirring in her chest. She exhales, running a hand through her hair as she tries to shake off the lingering sensation.

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly. “You too.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A few days later, Natasha returns to her room after another one of her early morning runs, her body drenched in exhaustion from both physical exertion and the sleepless nights filled with nightmares.

She lets out a tired sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to shake off the haunting memories of the recent dream when a soft scratching sound from her window catches her attention.

Her eyes widen in surprise as she spots the source of the noise. Hurrying over, she opens the window and carefully scoops the black cat perched on the sill into her arms.

“How did you get all the way up here?” Natasha asks curiously.

Widow meows softly in response, twisting in her arms to bat playfully at a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

Natasha huffs in amusement, leaning her head back to keep the hair out of reach.

Her gaze drops to the collar around Widow’s neck, reminding her of the lack of contact information to reach you.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she recalls the memory of you accusing her of being a thief. Now, somehow, your cat has found its way to her again, staring up at her with those innocent, wide eyes.

Natasha taps the top of Widow’s nose lightly in mock scolding.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble with your owner again,” she mutters, half-playful, half-exasperated.

Unbothered by Natasha's words, Widow glances around the room with mild curiosity before letting out a pitiful meow, pawing at Natasha with an urgent expression.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, confused. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

Her meows grow more insistent, her tiny voice taking on a more desperate tone.

“What do you want? Food?” she asks.

The cat immediately quiets at her suggestion, eyes shining with eager anticipation. Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“All right, let’s see if we can find you something to eat.”

An hour later, Natasha finds herself in the Compound’s kitchen, waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing as she reflects on the bizarre morning.

Just as the aroma of fresh coffee begins to fill the room, the elevator doors slide open, and Tony Stark comes strolling in, waving his phone at her.

“Someone explain why the emergency communication system I created is sending messages for cat food.”

Before Natasha can respond, Peter Parker swings in through an open window, landing at the kitchen counter with a large bag of cat food under his arm. He pulls off his Spider-Man mask, flashing a wide grin.

“No worries, Mr. Stark! I saw the message and picked some up on my way,” Peter declares proudly, placing the bag triumphantly on the counter.

“Thanks, Peter,” Natasha says, taking the bag and raising an eyebrow at Tony. “At least someone’s reliable around here.”

“Anytime, Miss Romanoff,” Peter replies, rubbing the back of his neck shyly as he moves toward the sitting area.

Meanwhile, Tony scoffs at her teasing jab, muttering her words mockingly under his breath as he turns to leave. But he freezes mid-stride, pointing toward the couch.

“Uh, what is that?”

Natasha follows his gaze and sees he’s referring to where Wanda is sitting on the sofa, using her powers to create a small red ball of energy for Widow, who is happily pouncing at it.

“Her name is Widow,” Natasha explains as she pours the cat food into a bowl.

“You named a cat after yourself?” Tony snorts, shaking his head. “And people say I’m the narcissist.”

“She’s not mine,” Natasha replies, rolling her eyes as she walks past him toward the sitting area.

“So, you stole it,” Tony deadpans.

“Why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?” Natasha huffs, exasperated, as she sets the bowl on the floor.

At the sight, Widow scampers over, letting out a happy meow before digging into the food.

Natasha smiles softly, scratching the cat’s head as it eats, though her thoughts inevitably drift to you, wondering how she will return your cat to you.

Wanda, who’s been watching the scene with an amused grin, chimes in, “Natasha has a crush on the owner. She keeps thinking about her.”

“Oh, this just got interesting,” Tony says, leaning on the back of a chair with an intrigued smirk. “When did that happen?”

Natasha glares at Wanda before answering, “I met her on one of my runs. We talked. That’s it. Also, what have we said about reading people’s minds?”

Wanda raises her hands in mock surrender.

“I’m not, I swear. Your thoughts are just…really loud, and most are about her.”

Tony chuckles at the revelation, thoroughly entertained. He raises an eyebrow at Natasha, grinning.

“Nat, there are better ways to get someone’s attention than stealing their pet. I could give you some tips if you want.”

Natasha huffs, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need your help, Stark.”

Tony, unbothered by her dismissal, smirks.

“Then why haven’t you contacted her about the cat?”

“I don’t have her contact info,” Natasha admits reluctantly. “I didn’t get her number.”

Peter, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly perks up.

“I have an idea!”

He pulls out his phone from his backpack, snaps a picture of Widow, and begins typing. A moment later, he shows the screen to Natasha.

The post reads: “Cat found at Avengers Compound,” with Widow’s picture attached.

“What’s this?” Tony asks, peering over Peter’s shoulder.

“It’s the ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ app,” Peter explains animatedly. “You told me to focus on local stuff as Spider-Man, so I made this app where people can report crimes or activities happening in New York. This way, Miss Romanoff’s crush will see the post and know where to find her cat.”

At his last casual remark, Tony bursts into laughter while Wanda hides her smile behind her hand.

“All right, that’s enough,” Natasha says, scooping up Widow and grabbing the food bowl. “Come on, Widow. Let’s get you some peace and quiet.”

With that, she leaves the room, escaping the playful teasing of the others.

Later that afternoon, Natasha returns to the common room and finds Peter frantically overturning the sofas.

“What are you looking for?” she asks, arms crossed.

Startled, Peter jumps, dropping the sofa back to the ground with a loud thud.

“Please don’t tell Mr. Stark,” he pleads.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “What did you lose?”

Peter hesitates, then slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“Mr. Stark gave me a USB with the new suit design, and I was going to show him my modifications, but now I can't find it anywhere.”

He starts pacing, clearly panicking, as he continues.

“I thought I put it in my backpack, but it’s gone. If I lost it in the city, Mr. Stark will never let me help with modifications again!”

Natasha steps forward, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, calm down. Tony will understand,” she says, nodding toward the window. “Why don’t you go check your place again? I’ll keep an eye out here.”

Peter takes a deep breath and nods.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Miss Romanoff,” he says before pulling his mask back on and swinging out the window.

Natasha shakes her head with a small smile and resumes her original task—finding Widow, who had somehow slipped out of her room without Natasha noticing.

The little cat was proving to be surprisingly clever and stealthy. It seems you obviously trained her well.

After searching around for a bit, Natasha is about to check with Wanda when a pair of yellow eyes appear from the shadows on one of the black sofas.

Widow stares up at her, completely unbothered.

Chuckling in realization, Natasha sits beside the cat, gently scratching her head.

“You’re pretty good at hiding. I didn’t even realize you were there.”

Widow responds with a bored yawn, stretches her body, and then hops onto Natasha’s lap, curling up contentedly. As her eyes begin to flutter closed, Natasha frowns in realization.

“No, no, you can’t fall asleep on me. I’ve got things to do.”

Widow ignores her, already deep in sleep. When Natasha hears the soft sound of the cat’s snoring, she throws her head back against the sofa in disbelief.

Sighing, Natasha spots a tablet on the nearby table. She carefully reaches for it without disturbing Widow and begins doing some work.

After a moment, the rhythmic purring from the cat brings an unexpected feeling of calm and comfort to her, and before she knows it, Natasha’s eyes start to grow heavy, and she drifts off without realizing it.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep when she wakes up, blinking groggily. As her eyes adjust, she notices a familiar face beside her—you.

For a brief moment, Natasha wonders if she’s still dreaming. Though, she doesn’t usually have dreams this pleasant.

But then your eyes lift from your phone at her movement, and you raise an eyebrow, amused.

“For a hero, you sure take more naps than I expected.”

Natasha blinks away the remnants of sleep, sitting up straighter, and tilts her head at you curiously.

“How did you get in here?”

You gesture casually toward the elevator.

“I came by after seeing the post, and your teammate—Wanda, I believe—she said she recognized me, so she directed me here.”

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, you lean your head on your hand as your eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I thought I told you to find a better napping spot. This one’s just going to give you neck cramps.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a small smile as she gestures to Widow, still sound asleep on her lap.

“Wasn’t exactly my choice.”

Your gaze drifts down to the cat, and you sigh knowingly.

“Widow, stop pretending and get off her.”

Natasha frowns in confusion at your words and snaps her gaze to the seemingly asleep creature on her lap.

For a second, the cat doesn’t move, but when you call her name again, a little more sternly, the cat’s eyes snap open.

Widow lets out an indignant meow before hopping off Natasha’s lap and licking her paws casually as if nothing happened.

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief.

“What a little liar.”

Groaning softly, she stretches out her stiff muscles and catches you watching her, your gaze lingering for a second too long.

When you realize she’s noticed, your eyes flicker back to your phone.

Natasha smirks, about to tease you, but then you show her the screen of your phone—the post Peter made about Widow.

“I need you to take this down,” you say, your tone serious.

Natasha furrows her brow but nods.

“Sure, I can do that. But why? It looks like she’s a hit with everyone.”

Your smile turns faint as you stand, the lightness in your expression turning somber.

“Not all attention is good attention,” you say cryptically.

Before Natasha can ask what you mean, you grab a pen from the table and reach for her hand. She watches in surprise as you scribble something on her palm. Your touch lingers for a moment, making her feel unexpectedly flustered.

“Here,” you said, finishing. “If Widow finds her way to you again, you’ll know how to reach me. Though, hopefully, you won’t need it too often.”

Natasha glances at the number on her palm, then back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Am I only allowed to use this for cat-related emergencies?”

You smirk, though there’s a hint of something more serious in your eyes.

“I’m not sure I’m someone you’d want to get involved with.”

Natasha holds your gaze, intrigued.

But the tension is broken when Widow hops back onto the sofa, drawing both of your attention. The cat tries to burrow into the cushions, as if searching for something or determined to get comfortable again.

You sigh, picking her up despite her annoyed yowl. Before leaving, you glance back at Natasha, tilting your head thoughtfully.

“Though… I guess a hello from the Black Widow every now and then wouldn’t be too bad.”

With that, you head to the elevator, disappearing behind its doors.

Natasha looks down at the number on her palm, a small smile playing on her lips. She finds herself hoping that Widow might "accidentally" find her way back to the Compound again soon—if only for another chance to see you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha didn’t have to wait long for another chance to see you, after all.

Just a few hours after your departure, late at night when the Compound was quiet, Natasha—still unable to sleep—wandered into the common room.

To her surprise, there you were, dressed in dark, stealthy clothes, frozen the moment you noticed her.

Her instincts kick in immediately, and within seconds, Natasha has her weapon drawn, pointing it directly at you.

Yet, you show no sign of panic. Instead, you raise your hands slowly and tilt your head at her with a calm, almost amused expression.

“You really shouldn’t be up this late, you know,” you say lightly, as if this was a casual conversation. “Messes with your sleep schedule.”

Natasha ignores the teasing, her gaze unwavering and her senses on high alert. She didn’t feel any malice from you, but the situation is far too strange to let her guard down.

“How did you get in undetected?” she asks, her voice low, tinged with suspicion.

With deliberate slowness, you gesture with one hand toward the open window behind you.

“That was left unlocked. Pretty reckless for the Avengers.”

Natasha’s frown deepens as she glances at the window, already making a mental note to have Peter redo security training.

“And the alarms?” Natasha asks, her weapon still trained on you.

You shrug casually.

“Let’s just say we have a lot of experience when it comes to not being seen.”

Natasha's eyes narrow at your words. "We?"

You nod toward her feet, and Natasha briefly glances down.

Widow is there, casually walking through her legs and brushing her fur against Natasha with a soft purr, completely at ease.

When her gaze snaps back to you, you gesture toward her weapon.

“Mind putting that away? I’m unarmed. You can check if you like.”

Natasha hesitates, her eyes studying you carefully, looking for any hint of deception.

But there is none.

Reluctantly, she holsters her weapon and steps closer, reaching out to pat you down.

You stand still, hands raised, letting her search you for any hidden weapons or gadgets.

“So, what are you?” Natasha asks, her tone sharp. “A spy?”

“Reformed thief, technically,” you reply with a casual shrug. “I don’t do this sort of thing much anymore.”

You sigh lightly, casting a glance at Widow, who had settled by Natasha’s feet and is now nonchalantly licking her paw.

“She, however, is still struggling to break her old habits.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, glancing at the cat.

“You’re telling me this cat’s a thief?”

You chuckle softly, catching the disbelief in her voice.

“I’m serious. Check my pocket—it’s the reason I’m here.”

Frowning, Natasha reaches into your jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against something small and metallic. She pulls out a USB drive, her eyes widening slightly in realization when she notices the small Spider-Man logo sticker on the side.

“I didn’t realize Widow had swiped it before we left earlier,” you explain, your tone sheepish. “I came back to return it before there’s any trouble.”

“Is that why you wanted the post deleted?” Natasha asks, her suspicion now tinged with curiosity. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

There is a brief pause as you meet her gaze. Your smile turns slightly rueful at the concern in her voice, and for a moment, something unspoken lingers between you.

“Let me worry about that,” you say softly, your tone more serious than before. Then you lift your hands slightly in surrender, a playful glint returning to your eyes. “So, are you going to arrest me, or am I free to go?”

At that moment, Widow trots over, settling in front of Natasha and meowing softly as if to plead on your behalf.

Natasha crosses her arms, her lips curling slightly in amusement at the sight, though the concern hasn’t left her eyes.

“You two sure know how to double-team a person.”

You chuckle, realizing Natasha’s letting you go, and call your cat’s name. Widow immediately jumps into your arms, curling up comfortably. You look back up at Natasha, your expression softening.

“I told you—you wouldn’t want to get involved with someone like me.”

Natasha’s gaze softens in response.

“Your cat seems to think otherwise.”

You smile at that, gently shifting Widow in your arms.

“She’s got good instincts. A good judge of character, too. So, you must be really special if she’s interested in you.”

For a moment, silence settles between you, broken only by Widow’s soft purring. The tension eases, but something still lingers beneath the surface—an unspoken understanding that there was more to your story, more to you, than you were letting on.

With a small smile, you take Widow’s paw and give Natasha a playful wave.

“You should head to bed soon, Miss Black Widow,” you tease softly, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want you napping in random spots again.”

As you move toward the window, Natasha steps closer, her voice lowering.

“You know, I don’t mind the visits from Widow. And the two of you don’t have to sneak in or anything. Just…come by whenever.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her offer.

“Are you sure about that?”

Natasha holds your gaze steadily. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

You study her for a moment, then smile—a genuine, appreciative smile that softens the usual teasing banter.

“I’ll think about it,” you say with a playful tone.

With a quick nod, you adjust Widow in your arms and slip through the window with practiced ease. Natasha watches you disappear into the night, her mind spinning with questions and curiosity.

One thing’s certain: this won't be the last time she’d see you and your cat. And to her surprise, she finds herself looking forward to the next time.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 2

a/n: thank you for reading!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

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fairysluna · 8 months

Note

HERE AGAIN

43. “Go on ride my thigh.” WITH HARWIN

knight in shining armor.

When the Red Keep is attacked, Ser Harwin is the one in charge of your protection. Spending the night by your side, he finds it hard to keep his emotions under control.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Harwin Strong x Targ!Fem!Reader.

TAGS — fluff (a bit too much, I'm sorryy), smut —thigh riding, nipple play, oral fixation, praise, virgin!reader, dirty talk—, sexual tension, descriptions of nudity, mentions of blood and violence, murder. If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — small context: here the dance of the dragons doesn't happen, Rhaenyra never fucked Harwin and the greens and blacks are a lovey dovey family. Long live fanfiction for this. A big, big thank you to @bucknastysbabe for beta reading this!! Ilysm!!🤍

My baby bel, i think i put a bit too much fluff into the mix while writing this, but i hope you like it and enjoy it. Ilyy🤍

WORD COUNT — 3.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

A thunderous sound woke you up from your peaceful slumber. By looking around in the darkness of your chambers, you could tell something was wrong; a strange atmosphere appeared in the air, something odd that brought an inexplicable chill in your spine. You arose from your bed, walking barefooted towards the nearest window and peeking outside - the cold wind that entered the room sent shivers through your body, causing goosebumps to arise across your skin. It had to be the hour of the Wolf, you could barely see a thing.

There was a group of guards marching towards the entrance of the Red Keep; you heard them bellow, but you were not able to make sense of their words. They ran from one side to another, picking up their swords and shields, giving commands to one another. You grew curious to know the reason behind such a fuss and the answer came quicker than you expected. While you were observing a knight standing beside the arsenal and keeping guard on the perimeter, another man silently approached him- wearing all black, camouflaging in the darkness of the night.

A small part of you told you to look away, but you stood there - eyes fixed on the guard. Curiosity killed the cat.

Out of the blue, the black-clad specter reached for the knight, and before you could discern what the man had done to him, you saw red flooding out under the moonlight - staining his prestigious white cloak. You froze in your place as you saw the guard falling to his knees before his entire body reached the dirt on the floor. The air escaped from your lungs as you witnessed such a gruesome scene, feeling your heart beating frantically in reaction.

It only became worse once the unknown man looked up, right at your window. Right at you, steely eyes glinting.

Immediately, you took a few steps back - your hand covering your mouth and muffling a squeal as soon as you realized what had happened. Chills traveled around your body, and before you realized, your cheeks were soaking with tears of horror and fear. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your chest feeling heavy and tight. That man saw you, he would certainly come after you now.

Your feet kept moving, eyes fixed in the window as you walked backwards, as far as possible from that frightening scene. In that moment, you felt your back hit something cold and hard before two strong arms wrapped around your body and squeezed you between them. You yelped, screaming hysterically with the thought that it will be your turn now - squirming desperately as you tried to be freed from the arms of the person who was holding you down.

Then you heard his voice.

“Princess, it's me!” The familiar voice exclaimed, loosening the grip around your body and allowing you to turn around to see him. He removed his helmet, throwing it onto the floor. “It's me, my sweet princess,” he repeated, this time more calm and with a soothing tone in his timbre. He placed his big, calloused hand on your cheek.

The relief washed over you as you saw your beautiful knight in shining armor standing before you, tense shoulders instantly relaxing as you locked your lilac eyes with his deep brown ones. His gaze was soft, but it still showed signs of his preoccupation for you. His thumb brushed against your skin, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face. You leaned towards his touch and he sighed.

“You're safe with me,” Ser Harwin murmured. “Everything will be okay…” His impressive frame towered over your smaller one; you had to look up at him as your hand wrapped around his wrist.

Harwin was taken aback once he felt your trembling arms wrapping around his armor. You hung from his neck as he picked you up from the floor. One of his hands held your waist, while the other went to your nape - keeping you close to him. The coldness of the metal was pressing against your cheek, and you closed your eyes - silently crying against his shoulder. Your heart fluttered inside your chest once he tightened his grip around your body; you felt safe in his arms.

“Shh… it's fine,” he cooed against your ear. His lips pressed against your head. “No one will hurt you if I'm with you, princess. No one will harm you.”

“What happened? What's going on?” you asked between sobs.

“Some miscreants managed to go through the gates, they're now being secured in the black cells. They’re trying to find those who are inside the Keep,” he explained while he slowly put you back on your feet - a soft whine involuntarily left your lips once you stopped feeling his warmth. “I've come as soon as I heard.”

“Is my family safe? My mother, my siblings? Rhaenyra and the children?”

“They are all being guarded by members of the king's guard,” Harwin replied.

You nodded before you took a look around his face, as if you were trying to search for some wound - just in case he needed your help. “Are you hurt?” A little smile appeared on his handsome face once he noticed your worry. “Did- did they hurt you?”

“No,” he answered. “And you shall not worry about me, princess…”

You pressed your lips in a thin line before murmuring - a bit embarrassed, “you know I'll always worry about you.”

Harwin paused to take a look at you; his heart beating fast with the mere sight of you, feeling like a green boy whenever you were around, staring up at him with those pretty, sparkling eyes of yours. So beautiful, so precious. It was no secret between you two that your feelings had flourished like roses in Spring. Yet, even when the deep affections were obviously mutual, both of you were scared to act on it. It was forbidden, and - somehow - that made it even more tempting for both. How scandalous, King Viserys daughter has the Hand’s son as a paramour.

“Mayhaps your royal highness should go back to sleep,” Harwin suggested. “On the morrow all this would be just a faint memory.”

“I don't think I will be able to do it,” you told him, taking a step back and wiping your tears away. “I lost all my sleep with what I've just seen…it was awful, terrible…”

Harwin approached you again as he noticed your despair - your voice breaking in the middle of your words and your eyes glistening once again by a layer of new tears. He cupped your face, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks.

“It's okay, my sweet angel,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours - you closed your eyes. His closeness made your heart beat faster, and the syrupy way the name that came out of his plump lips almost caused you to sigh. “Come here, let's sit down for a second, alright?” Harwin motioned.

Obediently, you grabbed his hand as he guided you through your room, finding a comfortable spot in the large settee right in the middle of your chambers. Once Harwin turned around, he finally noticed what you were wearing; a thin see through nightgown. His eyebrows twitched and mouth went dry. He knew that the right thing was to look away, give the privacy you needed - yet he couldn't manage to take his eyes off of you, his lovely princess. He followed a path from your face, going downwards towards your neck and collarbones - he even imagined how they would look with small marks from his lips printed on them. He continued shamelessly eyeing you, finding your breasts; he felt his throat getting dry once he noticed your pebbled nipples peeking through the white fabric of your nightgown. His mouth watered, resisting the urge to think how they would feel against his tongue. Unexpectedly, he felt his pants getting tighter.

That's when he knew that enough was enough. You were a princess; his princess. You deserve the utmost respect. He couldn't allow himself to think of you in that way, especially on a night like this one.

Harwin cleared his throat, sitting down on the couch and tapping the empty spot by his side - once again, you obeyed. Your body curled by his side, clinging into his armor, laying your head on his chest as his arm went around your shoulder to keep you close. You squirmed a bit, trying to make sense of the feeling between your legs - the one that grew more intense once you noticed the desire on his eyes.

“Close your eyes, try to rest. I'll be here when you wake up,” he promised.

You nodded, making yourself comfortable and doing what he told you to do - and you really tried, yet it seemed impossible for you to take that horrid image off your mind. Your whole body would tremble with the thought of being murdered in the same way. Each time you would close your eyes, that was all you could see. It was torturous, a bone chilling fear that didn't let you rest.

That scarlet blood seeping down white cloth played over and over again in your racing mind.

Before you noticed, you were sobbing again. Harwin, chivalrous as always, grabbed your quivering body and placed you on his lap, rocking your body from side to side as a desperate attempt to try and calm you down. It wounded him to see you like this, so scared and defenseless - he even wondered what he could do to make your anguish go away.

“He saw me… he'll come and try to- to kill me!” you whined - your lower lip shaking uncontrollably. “I cannot- I cannot stop thinking about it all.”

Growing up as a princess left you inside a bubble. Behind the thick walls of the castle you never had to watch or see something as such - the evilness of people. Harwin has always told you that you had a pure heart and soul, always oblivious to the wrongdoings of the people. You never knew how cruel people truly were, and now that you saw it you couldn't stop thinking about it.

“Nothing will happen to you, not if I'm here,” Harwin softly whispered. “I will always protect you, my precious angel.”

But then he thought of his words again; he might protect you from the enemies, from the dangers of the world, but how was he supposed to protect you from the torment that was caused by your own mind? How could he possibly make you forget about it?

He knew the answer, but he knew it was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Come here.” Harwin invited you to sit on his lap. In any other occasion you would doubt a bit before assenting to do it, but in that moment all you wanted was to feel safe, to feel him against you as he got rid of all your fears with his mere presence - you couldn't resist.

His hands grabbed your hips as he lifted you up and motioned you until you were sitting on top of him - your arms around his broad body as you laid on his shoulder. His hands went to your head, his fingertips softly caressing your scalp while he soothed you again.

For him, it was quite hard to ignore the fact that the only thing in the middle of your nudity was a thin piece of fabric that did nothing to hide your body. He could see it, but you could feel it. At first you just sighed - the coldness of the metal covering his thigh would touch the heat between your legs, which was growing more intense with every passing second. You shivered, holding back a gasp when you accidentally moved your hips.

Out of the sudden, a thunderous sound similar to the one that woke you up was heard again. Your body jumped due to the shock, and your eyes widened with terror.

“Harwin…” you mumbled his name, almost as if you were begging him to make it stop, even when you knew he couldn't do anything more than stay by your side.

“Look at me, Princess,” he replied, his voice becoming slightly raspy as his big hands went to your hips. You felt how he started to pull your nightgown upwards - he had given up his hesitation to do this, defiling the pure little angel. How your doe-eyes and small body contrasted against his large frame, Strong was ensnared. The knight no longer fought against the carnal urges. He needed to take your mind elsewhere, and this was the only way he could think of. You tried to look down as he kept pulling the only layer of clothes that would cover your body - the only thing that separated your warmth from the coldness of the metal on his thigh, and he grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “Don't look away from me, angel…”

You obeyed, slightly parting your lips as the fabric brushed against your flesh, and once your cunt was laying naked on top of his leg, you felt a shiver running down your spine. Harwin’s honeyed gaze did not tear from your face at any moment, reluctant to see your most vulnerable places. He felt unworthy of it. He wasn't going to see you, he wasn't going to touch your vulnerable petals - he was just going to let you use him as you please.

“Ser Harwin…” you repeated his name in a gasp as his hands moved your hips on top of him. Gentle movements at first, just to see how you would react; that's when you moaned, feeling metal rubbing directly against your clit. It felt odd, but extremely good.

“Don't stress your mind any further,” he whispered, almost feeling breathless. “Forget about everything, just focus on what you feel…”

With your eyes closed, you placed your hands on his shoulder in order to find some stability when he slightly quickened the pace. The whimper that left your lips would be carved in Harwin’s mind forever, haunting his nights and increasing his need for you. You were there, in front of him looking so angelic, yet so sinful - he was tightening his grip on your hips, digging his fingertips on your flesh as a desperate attempt to hold back; the urge to rip that nightgown was almost unbearable. He needed to touch you, even when it was awfully wrong to do so.

One of his hands left your hip, moving upwards until it cupped your face. Your cheeks were burning beneath his touch, too flustered and shy to hold his haze for too long. You weren't stupid, you knew what was going on and you knew what it meant, yet it was hard for you to care when it felt this good.

Involuntarily, you started to move your hips on your own, growing needy and aching to feel more of him. You longed for his hands on your skin, touching every inch of you until his scent was spread all over your body - yet, he denied you of that, too scared of not being able to stop if he got to fondle your curves.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice so deep and husky, almost making you purr like a kitten between his arms.

“S’good…” you whined in response, mouth agape and letting gasps fall from your lips.

Harwin shifted his position, trying to find some comfortable posture that would make him forget about the ache inside his breeches. He laid back on the settee, spreading his legs and letting you place your hands on his chest. You soon started to move your hips again, moaning his name.

“Fucking hell…” he groaned, now getting a full view of your body. “Go on, ride my thigh…” Those words slipped his lips before he was able to stop them. He felt ashamed, but you loved to hear them, driving your pace harder in reaction.

Your eyes opened and you found Harwin looking up at you as you used him for your own pleasure. He sat there, your weeping cunt coating his armor with your slick as you rubbed yourself on him; you quickly noticed how hard it was for him not to look down - not to look at the sinful view of your swollen bud brushing against him. Instead, his eyes remained on your face, lost in your glossy eyes and swollen lips. He was bewitched with the way your face would express the pleasure you were feeling; Blessed may be the gods for giving him the opportunity to see you like that.

His thumb moved closer to your lips, and you were quick to trap it inside your mouth, sucking and nibbling at it while your movements became more intense. Harwin couldn't resist, and he moaned once he felt your tongue swirling around his digit, imagining how that very same tongue would feel on his cock.

“This feels better than your pillow, doesn't it?” He suddenly groaned. On any other occasion, he would be too ashamed to mention that - the fact that he has heard you pleasuring yourself, yet he couldn't help it… the words slipped out of his mouth before he was able to hold them back. “Do you think of me when you do it?” He asked, almost begging to admit it, longing to hear you say it.

Though you were in no position to speak - too overwhelmed already, you manage to mumble a positive answer, humming as you nodded. A little smirk appeared on the knight's face, making him look even more charming than he already was. You felt your body melt in his arms.

With the motion of your body becoming more intense - faster, your nightgown slowly started to fall down your body, exposing your pebbled nipples to the hungry haze of the man beneath you. The struggle inside his mind was killing him, he wasn't supposed to touch you yet his body craved for it. His mouth watered at the sight while you kept moaning around his finger.

“Touch yourself for me, my angel,” he murmured, as if that would cease his cravings.

He removed his hand from your face, grabbing your wrist and relocating it to your breasts. You moaned at your own touch as you pulled your nipples and played with your own flesh. You leaned forward then, pressing your forehead against his, open-mouthed as you gasped when he grabbed your hips to control your movements once again. Harwin closed his eyes, groaning when you whined and mewled.

You sounded so beautiful.

“Come on, my princess,” he breathlessly said. His lips were merely a few inches away from yours. He fought the urge to devour your swollen lips. “Fucking hell… my angel, keep rubbing your sweet pussy against me. It feels so good, doesn't it? Bet you can’t think of anything else…”

“Harwin, I- I feel…”

“Sh… just let go. Fuck yourself on me, use me as you please. Let me help you empty that pretty head of yours.”

Harwin gave one last look at your trembling body before he started to bounce his leg, thick thigh adding more stimulation that almost made you scream. It was too much - the possessive grip around your hips was making it hard for you to think about anything else. You fantasized about him, about his hands, about his mouth… you longed for his touch, to feel huge calloused hands on your silken skin. You wondered how it would feel to have him inside of you, to let him defile your body. You wanted it so bad.

The thoughts soon started to push you over the edge. The metal covering Harwin’s thigh was soaked with your slick, it was slippery enough to fasten your movements until you couldn't hold it any longer. Your body weight fell forward, your hips twitching as your release oozed out of your weeping cunt, his name falling from your lips like a chant - as a way to thank him. Harwin felt his cock aching underneath his trousers, painfully hard, too damn close to coming undone.

“So good, my beautiful princess…” he whispered as he caressed your hair. His touch burning against now sensitive skin. “Bet you're not thinking about that bad man anymore, are you?”

You could only whine in response. Tired, overstimulated, and sleepy.

“Let's get you to bed now, shall we?”

Harwin grabbed your waist, lifting you up effortlessly as you leaned on his shoulders. Ever the gentleman, he fixed your gown and covered your nudity as he took you to the bed. He placed you delicately over the soft mattress and you hummed when he wrapped your trembling body on the silk sheets.

He leaned back then, but you grabbed his hand before he could go further away. “Please, don't,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Stay with me… Lay here.”

“My princess-”

“Please.”

And he couldn't say no.

You heard how he started to get rid of his armor, slowly detaching the pieces of metal from his body until there were just thin layers of clothes covering his body. He cautiously laid behind you - not wanting you to feel the hardness under his trousers, yet you grabbed his hand and forced him to wrap his limbs around your body, feeling the need to have him as close as possible.

Silence fell on the room, just hearing his calm breathing as he closed his eyes and smelled the sweet perfume lingering in your hair. But then, you spoke again.

“Ser Harwin?” you uttered his name so delicately it almost felt like a caress.

“Yes?”

There was a small pause, a moment of doubt. You continued regardless.

“I… I think I might be in love with you.”

Harwin's heart skipped a beat on his chest, and a smile appeared on his face. He felt a joy that he had never felt before.

“Princess?” Now it was him calling your name.

“Yes, sir?”

“I am in love with you.”

TAGS — @islandfantasydream

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

#harwin strong #harwin strong imagine #harwin strong smut #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin #harwin strong x you #harwin strong x y/n #harwin strong x targ!reader #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you

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stayteezdreams · 8 months

Text

Bf!Skz Favorite Habits Headcanons

Headcanons: BF!Stray Kids and their favorite habits of yours

Requested By: @thunderous-wolf

Pairings: Bf!Skz x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Not all of these will be relatable of course, and some are a bit personally fulfilling. Headcanons related to food/eating in Changbins, Seungmin & I.N's.

Words: 1.6k

Bang Chan:

Bang Chan loves listening to you hum or sing quietly as you are working or doing errands.

Your soft voice or hummed melodies send a gentle comfort through him that makes him happy.

He also uses it as an indicator to tell how you are feeling.

If you are stressed or upset in any way, you tend to stop humming or singing.

This allows him to know something is up without you having to tell him anything.

You are always confused how he could tell when you weren't showing any signs (that you knew of).

In a similar vein, you often drum or tap your fingers or pen/pencil when you are lost in thought.

He also finds this quite cute and sometimes get distracted while watching you hum and tap your fingers as you work.

When you come back to your senses you often find him staring at you with an adoring smile on his face.

Chan can't help himself sometimes and when you are humming or singing he will join in.

He sometimes pulls you into his arms and starts singing and dancing with you to make you laugh.

Lee Know:

Minho always notices your habit of stacking, straightening or lining up objects.

Your notebooks are always stacked straight, your pencils lined up or placed in their own holders.

You sort your belongings like books in very specific orders, that might only make sense to you.

If you notice crooked paintings or objects you subtly straighten them.

Every time he notices he smiles softly to himself.

He is always careful not to mess up the way you straighten things.

He also has his own habit of noting this, so if he ever has to use something, he will put it back the exact way it was.

If he wants to playfully annoy you he will purposefully move something so its crooked while making eye contact with you.

Peak cat behavior.

You also tend to by matching things. Decorations, kitchenware, pencils, notebooks, etc, that all match or go well with stuff you already own.

So if he ever buys you anything, he makes sure it matches.

Even at his dorm, he has a mug that matches his own so you can use it.

He uses this habit of yours as an excuse to buy cute matching couple stuff, even though he also likes matching with you (but he wont admit it).

Changbin:

Changbin finds amusement in the way you eat food.

Saving the best bite till last. Eating everything individually, eating your least favorite thing first, and leaving your favorite food until last, things like that.

He noticed it early on in your relationship, and it eventually bled into his own eating habits.

He would find himself saving the perfect bite until last, or his favorite food till the end.

He didn't notice he was doing it at first until I.N pointed it out.

If you have particular ingredients you don't like, you pick them out and put them on the side.

If Changbin orders food for you, he does this ahead of time so you don't have too.

He also finds your gym/work out routines adorable.

The way you psyche yourself up, and then prepare the perfect playlist of songs before you start anything.

He also notices how you do the same stretches in order each time before your workout.

If you ever miss out on any or skip them he knows you aren't feeling it that day, and often tries to psyche you up himself or will tell you to rest and not force yourself.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin loves that when the two of you are hanging out, you often doodle or sketch things on loose paper.

He will find little doodles on sticky notes or pieces of paper he was going to throw out.

They make him smile because they are little reminders of you, so he often keeps them when he finds them.

If you are in college, he will sometimes flip through your notebooks and see all of the little drawings you did when you got distracted or bored during class.

When the two of you are hanging out doing nothing, he will purposefully give you a pencil and paper, or he will give you his arm to doodle on.

He jokes about getting some of the things you drew on him tattooed, but you would never let him. (But he definitely thinks about it)

He thinks it would be a nice reminder to always have you with him.

But he settles for taking his sketchbook with him and often flipping through the pages he let you sketch on.

Sometimes you take turns on a drawing, adding to it randomly, like a co-op piece. You did it with some paintings as well.

He has a few of these framed.

Han:

Han was confused at first, when he would find his hoodie ties braided or tied into knots.

It wasn't until one day when the two of you were lounging together that he noticed you absentmindedly making a decorative knot out of the tie on your own hoodie.

It clicked in his mind that it was you who had been doing it to his when you would wear them.

He thought it was adorable, and began purposefully wearing hoodies with long strings on them so you could play with them when cuddling.

At times when you are fidgety or antsy, or even just bored Han will ask you to play with his hair, knowing you will add little braids and get distracted by doing it.

It's his way of not only silently comforting you, but it also makes him feel good.

Yes he does forget about the braids and leave them in, often resulting in teasing from the others.

He doesn't care though and just calls them love braids, displaying them with pride.

Sometimes he takes selfies of them and sends them to you, 'The others keep making fun of me, but I love it!'

Felix:

Felix notices a lot about you, and something he noticed that he absolutely adores, is your habit of silent acts of service.

The way you help people without them noticing, or you making it obvious.

Casually fixing something without someone noticing. Picking up something they dropped without realizing. Making sure they don't hit their head when they reach down to do something.

You have a knack of noticing when someone wants something but is too shy or afraid to ask for it.

So you do it for them. Whether it is getting a drink, listening to them speak when others are talking, or asking them to do something with you, when in reality it was what they wanted and you are silently helping them to achieve it.

Felix is similar in this way so he noticed you do it as well.

He admires it and adores it and believes it shows just how lovely of a person you are.

You are also the type to pick up trash on the street, tell people is their shoes are untied, or if they have something in their teeth even if they are strangers.

You do the things you wish more people did for you, and Felix loves this about you.

Seungmin:

Seungmin notices your routines, big and small.

It ranges from doing the same steps every morning and evening with your facial care, taking showers at the same time of day, when you have your meals if your not working, etc.

He was able to figure out your routines pretty quickly so now he motions himself around them so you do them together.

This turns into him sharing the bathroom with you and being a menace.

Messing you up when you are brushing your teeth, cause you to smear toothpaste on your chin.

Him taking a shower as you are doing your nighttime routine, and singing loudly to entertain you.

When you are in the shower, he does his routine.

You also tend to get the same types of drinks and foods when you stop at the same places.

So if you are ever unable to make it, or he wants to surprise you with coffee/tea or food in the morning he knows exactly what to get you.

You never have to tell him what you would order, because he knows what you would order on pretty much any menu.

He says you are predictable, but in a cute way.

Bonus: If there are two dishes you can't decide between, he will get the other so you can try both.

He acts like he didn't do it for you, and says its because he wanted to try it but you know this is a lie

I.N:

I.N. loves that when you cook (especially for him), you put your heart into it, often making the food cute or aesthetically pleasing.

You cut strawberries into hearts, and the vegetables into cute or fun shapes, you are alarmingly good at coffee art, making cute desserts, etc.

He sees the care you have, in every small detail and he loves it.

He has a photo album dedicated to the cute food you make.

Sometimes he has trouble convincing himself to eat it because it's too cute.

I.N adores that you get happy and do a little dance when the food you are eating is good.

Other habits you have that he finds cute is when you are angry, you chew on the inside of your cheek or absentmindedly mumble under your breath.

He finds it adorable, and will tease you to lighten the mood. But he also just finds you cute when you are irritated. (He will pinch your cheeks before hugging you and being cute).

Folding paper/Origami

When you are bored you have a tendency to turn random pieces of paper into various forms.

Planes, flowers, stars, animals, etc.

I.N has kept an embarrassing amount of them and you will find them in various places around his room.

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson, @the-lemon-boy

Stray Kids Taglist: @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3, @prettymiye0n, @thunderous-wolf, @dlmlufics, @thedistractedwriter, @briqnne, @dancelikebutterflywings, @dinossaurz, @staytiny2000

Changbin Taglist: @lieutenantnLee Know, Seungmin + I.N Taglist: @hongjoongsprincessHyunjin + Han Taglist: @dear-dreamieFelix Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn

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thundercatsxreader · 29 days

Note

How would Lion O accidentally fall on top on human reader who is in the middle of looking at cute animals that natives to the land

The rest you can do whatever

Okay- Bet

Your hands twirled into the fur of the little creature. You weren't sure what the creature was, but it sure was adorable. You were so caught up in the creatures, that you didn't notice a pair of eyes watching you.

That was until you felt a large, fluffy weight being pressed against your back. You squealed as your face smoshes against the ground and you hear apologies from behind you.

"Oh- God, I'm so sorry!"

You groan as you finally get him off you and he stutters over his words. You push your hair out of your face and sigh. You look back to the animal, only to frown when seeing it was gone.

"Oh, Y/n- I swear I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine Lion-o." You push yourself off the ground avoiding his hand.

---

🦁 He was stalking you before he had fallen on top of you. He thought you looked some cute as you played with the animal. Kind of wants you to run your fingers though his hair like you did the pet

🦁 He finds it hard to talk to you- So when it appears he was stalking you, which he was, he becomes even more tongue twisted

🦁 He feels like such an idiot. You were having such a beautiful moment and he ruined it

🦁 He avoids you after that, because he's worried that you know that he was watching you

🦁 Can't stand his feelings for you because they make him feel so many feelings- Will probably try and initiate to hang out with you if he sees you with another animal- Maybe you can bond over that?

#lion-o #thundercats #lion o x reader #lion o #yandere thunder cats #yandere lion o #yandere lion o x reader #lion o thundercats #thundercats x reader #thunder cats x reader #yandere thundercats x reader #thundercats 2011 #thundercats lion-o #yandere lion-o #lion-o x reader #yandere lion-o x reader

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anonymousfiction211 · 2 years

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Thunder&Mischief: neutering

Loki: You want to do WHAT?

Y/N: It is a standard thing here in earth. I just want to get the cats neutered, nothing more. Just to prevent us from them having kittens.

Loki: I would argue that humans are torturing their pets. How can you even think about doing that to a man?

Y/N: Well, once the 'man has done its job' the woman is stuck with kittens in this case she might now even wanted. And I don't feel like paying for the care and making sure we give them a good home once they come.

Loki: First of all, the fact that you think we would give any of them up is beyond me. Secondly, they are inside cats, they won't encounter anyone else.

Y/N: Mischief is not an inside cat.

Loki: *grumbling* That's because Mischief is a little devil who somehow gets by the extended measurements I have taken to keep him inside.

Y/N: Well, like father like son. Anyway, I don't need eight kittens, two cats and a baby.

Loki: Baby? What?

Y/N: Calm down, I'm not pregnant. I meant you.

Loki: *annoyed* Fine, do what you want. But you have to go explain it to them.

*a few days later. Y/N with Thunder&Mischief at the vet*

Thunder&Mischief: *angrily meowing*

Y/N: *whispering* Look, I know you guys are mad at me, but this really is for the best.

*The moment the vet tries to take them out of the container, they vanish in a green glow*

The vet: *ehm.. what is happening?*

Y/N: *angrily storming out* For fuck sake, I'm going to kill a baby today.

The vet: Wait what???

@lokiestorch @shereighties @littlemortals @fandoms4life-always @high-functioning-lokipath @briarrose26 @lilyevans1 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @geeky-politics-46 @vbecker10 @eleniblue

Let me know if you have an idea :)

#loki of asgard #loki fanfic #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fiction #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki cat dad #loki cat mom #loki kittens #thunder&mischief

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romanteacism · 24 days

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Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Gloomy

Synopsis: Finding solace and warmth in your chambers with your constant and only companion, Ser Aemond. Warnings: None (yet), Domesticity, Aemond and Princess Growing Closer, Realizations, Fluff PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: Aemond's love language: Acts of Service (and maybe touch)

“Is my sister inside? It’s our time for supper,” The prince questioned as Ser Aemond stood outside of your chamber doors, finally obliging you with a moment of privacy as you tried to regain composure after your mother’s outburst. “The princess does not wish to be disturbed,” He relayed your wishes, looking upon your brother to deduce if the prince was aware of your mother’s treatment of you. He had witnessed the queen’s harshness— how she almost laid a hand on you and how you had flinched as you had expected such cruel actions. He began to wonder how many times your mother had been so cruel to bestow upon you such behaviors and if others were aware of it, and if they were, why they had not hindered her.

“Oh… is she well? Is her injury bothering her once more? Shall I fetch the maester?” The prince fretted, and Aemond was half-convinced that your brother had no clue that such heinous happenings had occurred as he witnessed his concern for his sister. “She did not say; all she said was she wished not to be disturbed,” Aemond answered, not certain if he should be the one to say what had transpired just hours before. The prince parted his lips to speak, but a loud clap of thunder echoed through the castle, catching the two men’s attention and startling a princess who tried to sleep her sadness away. “Very well, I’ll have her maid send her supper— and I think it’s best if you return to your post inside her chambers… my sister is quickly frightened by thunder; she would want companionship.” The prince advised, and Aemond nodded, wholeheartedly obeying the prince’s orders.

Aemond opened the door to your chambers, his gaze immediately moving towards you, who lay in your bed, clutching your pet cat in comfort as another roar of thunder came. “Princess, it’s alright,” Aemond said, announcing his presence. “I hate storms,” You suddenly said as you braced yourself as a flash of lightning shone and was accompanied by another clap of thunder. “Your brother had mentioned,” He hummed, turning to the candles that flickered from the wind and to your balcony as heavy drops came pouring down. Unlike you, Aemond found monsoons quite comforting.

A knock sounded out, and Aemond opened your door to reveal your handmaid who brought your supper. As your mother had promised, the sweets were kept from you, noting the absence of your usual dessert from the tray. You moved to the common area of your chambers, looking with disinterest at the food brought for you. “You must eat, princess,” Aemond said as you only stared at your supper, the once steaming meal growing tepid. “What’s the point? There is no confection at the end of it,” You sighed, running your finger through Theodore’s fur to soothe yourself. Aemond sighed, shaking his head. “You still need nourishment,” He countered. “Skipping one meal will not be the death of me, Ser Aemond.” You sighed, further pushing away the plate.

Aemond pursed his lips, watching your desolate frame. He observed your tear-stained cheeks, your swollen eyes, your cracked lips, and the mere sadness in you that was a stark difference from your actuality. “You staring me down would not make me eat this meal,” You sighed as you burned from the gaze of your knight’s lone eye. Aemond blinked, growing conscious of your awareness of his stare— he did that quite often as of late, and he began to wonder if you were aware of it the other times, and if you were, why had you not told him or at least reacted? As a gust of wind came once again, you sighed, “Good night, Ser Aemond.” You say, moving to stand to tuck yourself and Theodore in your bed. “Good night, princess,” Aemond nodded.

“Are there no custard tarts?” Aemond asked the cook. After his quick meal, he rushed to the kitchens in order to sneak away some sweets that your mother deprived you of. You had skipped your supper the night before and even your meal that morning; it was noon, and Aemond deduced that you still would not eat, concerning him. “The queen ordered that we cannot make them for a month— a shame since the princess truly enjoys them,” The cook sighed as she stirred the food she was preparing. Aemond turned to the window; the sun that they usually looked upon to tell the time was hidden by thick, dark clouds. Aemond turned to what his hands were carrying: a few pieces of lemon cake that he acquired just for you. You were not keen on them, but he had naught a choice since those were the only desserts he could find. “Could you not make at least a small batch? I’m certain the queen will not come to know,” He whispered, trying to convince the cook.

“Ha! You are asking me to get myself in trouble,” the cook said. “There are other sweets by that table— mustn’t be picky, Ser,” The cook added, thinking it was Aemond who wanted the sweet treat. “It’s not for me… it’s for the princess,” He whispered, further trying to convince the cook. The elderly woman raised a quizzical brow and rested her hand on her hip. “The queen has banned her from eating desserts… but I’m certain you know how much she loves them. She won’t eat her meals unless she has a sweet treat at the end of it,” Aemond informed, the cook nodding in understanding as it did sound like something that you would do.

After a moment, the cook sighed and gave a nod. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do… but in the meantime, take the creams and berries cake instead— the princess does not like the lemon—but you could give her the candied ones atop of it,” The cook said, pushing towards Aemond a few a hefty slice of the cream and berries cake, the knight bundling it into a cloth as if it were contraband— and perhaps it was.

Aemond returned to your chambers, relieving the knight who watched over you as he had his quick meal. You turned to your newly returned knight as you sat across your untouched meal for the afternoon. “You cannot convince me to eat this,” You sighed, startled as another clap of lightning came. Aemond turned to look upon the sky as he threaded closer to your place. It would seem the weather was controlled by your mood. Your light that often shone upon them grew dim and cold, and so did the sun. “Really?” Aemond questioned, slowly unwrapping the sweets he brought for you. You nodded, but your gaze was caught by the cream and berries cake, and candied lemons your knight had brought you. You moved to take hold of the sweets, but Aemond was quick to steal them away before your hands could grab them. “Your meal first, princess,” He smirked as you had no choice but to eat. You nodded eagerly, eating your meal as fast as you could, as you were already craving the sweets Ser Aemond so kindly acquired for you.

“Thank you, this is very sweet of you.” A smile finally came to your lips, and Aemond nodded, contented to finally see a speck of joy in your eyes. It should be concerning how easily your mood was altered by just mere sweets, but Aemond could not be wholly concerned as it provided him with an easier way to cheer you up. “You’re welcome, princess,” He nodded. “I’m guessing my Mother had ordered them to stop making custard tarts,” You say as your knight observes you savor the treat he smuggled into your chambers. “She has. How do you know that?” He questioned, watching you slowly eat the cake and candy, prolonging it. “Well, she knows that’s what I enjoy the most.” You shrugged. Aemond could not hinder the frown that came to his face. “That’s quite… mean,” he commented, but you breathed out an unamused laugh. “That’s how she administers her punishments… once when I was a child, she grew cross with me, and in consequence, she sent home some of the court members whose daughters were my friends as my punishment.” Aemond’s frown deepened. “That’s why I am often alone… the other girls my age grew scared to befriend me because their family might face the same fate.”

“Did you not tell the king?” Aemond questioned, moving closer to you just in case you would need comfort once more. “I tried to, once. I waited for him in his study, but Mother caught me, and that only made her angrier so I never attempted to do it again,” You said, acting as if you were not bothered by it, hoping your feigned emotions on the subject would eventually turn true. Aemond sighed, not knowing what to do; he had the sudden urge to throw his arms around you, his only attempt at comfort because he never had the right words, but the knight restrained himself as he tried to push down and repress his realizations made only a few days before because he knew what he felt must be ignored— that it was perhaps only brought by the unfamiliarity of someone genuinely caring for him. He had to remind himself that your treatment and kindness were nothing out of the ordinary— that if it were any other person in his place, you would offer the same kindness you so graciously bestowed upon him. He had to convince himself that he was not exceptional, though it was only you who could tell him otherwise.

When night came, your brother returned to your chambers, but you once again refused him entrance, Ser Aemond standing outside your door to wait for the prince to relay your wishes. The prince sighed and shook his head, not entirely privy to what had fully transpired between you and your mother. “Had she at least eaten?” Your brother questioned Ser Aemond. “She has, my prince,” Aemond confirmed. “Really? I heard mother had disallowed her to consume sweets— she never eats her meal without the promise of it,” He muttered. Aemond could only stay silent as the prince began to be bewildered about your behavior. “Am I truly not allowed inside?” Aemond stared at the prince in question— with his station higher than his and yours, he could do whatever he pleased and push past the knight, but still, your brother was gracious enough to respect your wishes. “She only said she does not wish to receive anyone,” Aemond answered. “Very well,” the prince sighed before walking down the hall, Aemond waited for a moment before he once again returned to his post inside your chambers.

“Do you have siblings?” You suddenly questioned as your knight entered, closing the book you read to turn your full attention to Ser Aemond. “I do, princess,” he answered curtly, but your expectant gaze left him no choice but to explain further. “I have two brothers and a sister,” He added, and you nodded. “Are you the oldest?” You asked, but you quickly regretted your question as you remembered that Ser Aemond came from noble birth and only became to be a knight since he was set to inherit nothing, the plight of a child who was not meant to be the first. “No, princess, I have an older brother and sister,” He replied, ignoring your lapse. “Oh… what are they like?” Aemond questioned as you tried further to get familiar with your knight. If it were any other person, he would ignore their prying, keeping his familial matters to himself, but he observed you, toying with your hands in anxiousness as the persistent storm only grew; he could not be so cruel as to deny you of conversation that would distract your mind.

“They’re… there. I was not particularly close with any of them growing up.” He informed, “But I must say that I do have a slight favor to my sister— my brothers and I never particularly saw eye to eye.” Aemond did not expect a small, sad smile to come to your lips. “I’m sorry about your brothers… but I must admit I envy you, for you have a sister,” Aemond did not even realize it; it was a force of habit as he threaded closer to your sitting frame. “I’ve always wanted one— whether she is younger or older than me; it did not matter because at least I would have had a constant companion.” You smiled sadly, “You would like her— my sister Helaena. Your tempers are very much alike.” Aemond informed, and that only widened your somber smile.

As days proceeded, your mood and the weather never returned to their sunny, cheery state. However, Ser Aemond did provide you with some comfort in not letting your demeanor grow worse. It had been a week since the sun last shown upon them and since you last stepped foot out of your chambers. Aemond was not certain if he liked the ordeal or should grow wary of it. With every day passed, it was only you and him, a sense of domesticity forming between the two of you to the point your knight no longer resisted when you would offer him to sit or find respite, and Ser Aemond even began to have his meals with you, so that you would not feel so isolated and lonely. He was as well successful in convincing the cook to make you your favored custard tarts— you were eternally grateful for your knight, for no one beside him had dared to go against your mother’s orders. You had the urge to embrace him, to show him how grateful you were because you feared that your words were not enough, but you knew your knight would not care for such gestures, so you settled to giving his hand a grateful squeeze to relay your thanks. The action only brought heat to you and your knight, who were still left cold by the absence of the sun.

Aemond glanced outside your window, which overlooked the gardens that were starting to flood from the constant rain. The flowers you loved so much did not even bloom because they missed the warmth of the sun, and he wagered your gentle touch as well. “Will you truly not leave your chambers?” Aemond asked, now unable to stomach to see you still glum. Though he enjoyed the moments it was just the two of you hidden in your room and away from the scrutinizing eyes of the court, he could not be so cruel to let you continue on with such melancholy consuming you.

“What’s the point? I cannot go to the gardens. I cannot have my afternoon tea and treats; I cannot even paint my useless landscapes, for the fog would not leave.” You sighed, toying with a feather that Theodore tried to take hold of, distracting yourself as you distracted your pet from boredom. “You could go to the library,” Aemond suggested, turning to the towering bookcases that rested on one side of your room. “What for? I have books here,” You answered. “You could go to the prince… I’m certain he has missed you; he had come twice today,” He added, and you only shook your head, having no wish to be in the presence of anyone besides Ser Aemond.

“What about the jesters and performers? I’m certain that they are still here— you could command them to perform a show to entertain you,” Aemond pursed his lips as you shook your head once more. “Their material is trite— I have seen all that they can do,”

“You cannot stay here forever,” He said, “And why not? Is it not the custom to lock princesses up in their towers? Who am I to break such traditions?” Aemond pinched the bridge of his nose, confused about whether he should be amused or concerned. He moved forward to get closer to you and implored you to leave your chambers, as he made himself believe that the inclement weather was because you stayed in your chambers and stewed in your sadness. As Aemond reached you, the door of your chambers was forced open, and he was quick to draw out his sword and tuck you behind him, the shock making you cling to the cloak of your sworn protector. When the two of you set eyes on the interloper, both of you let out a relieved sigh.

“You have been hiding here for a week! Enough now!” Your brother boomed. You frowned and still hid behind Ser Aemond, who cautiously sheathed his sword, his hand itching to take hold of yours as a sort of comfort. “I do not want to— and I do not wish to speak to you nor see you!” You said, still clutching the cloak of your knight that smelt of him—the mixture of mint, spice, and leather bringing you an odd sense of comfort. Your brother let out an exasperated breath and ran his hand through his face. “Ser Aemond— could you step outside for a moment?” The prince requested, and usually, Aemond was quick to oblige such orders, but you tightly clinging to him made him forget all of his duties. “No! I want him to stay,” You countered, glaring at your brother as you peeked up at him through Ser Aemond’s shoulder. Aemond bit the inside of his cheeks at your words and how you moved your hand to cling to his arm.

“Sister— you have been here for a week! The court is starting to wonder and be concerned by your absence, and I no longer have half-truths to offer Father when he questions your absence during supper! Come now, I can even convince Mother to remove her ban on sweets!” He tried to convince you, but you were not persuaded, for your knight was more than generous to acquire for you the sweets you loved, and the peaceful moments with Ser Aemond were more than enough to let you stay in your chambers for a prolonged period of time. “No!” You said stubbornly. Your brother’s agitated gaze turned to your knight, imploring him to convince you as well. He had come to learn that Ser Aemond did have a way to persuade your stubborn mind. Aemond blinked, not liking his station between you and your brother, not certain as to which side he should take.

There was a silence that befell the room, and you finally removed yourself from behind your knight. “If that is all— you can leave. You cannot convince me otherwise. I will leave my chambers once I wish.” You said civilly, gesturing towards the door for your brother to exit. The prince had no choice but to. The look in your eyes told him that you truly could not be convinced. You rested your uninjured arm on your chest and huffed, stomping towards your feathered bed in frustration, leaving your knight to return to his post and make him miss the arguments he would have with his own brothers.

Night came, and you and Ser Aemond sat before the hearth, playing a round of cards. You two had grown a routine since your first day of locking yourself in your chambers. It was a rare occurrence that your knight forgoes his duty and obliges you with his companionship, but you were grateful for it. “You win again?” You sighed in disappointment as Ser Aemond had a small smirk rising on his lips. He tried to let you win some rounds, but his competitiveness got the better of him. And he must admit, he quite liked the pout on your lips every time you would lose. Aemond took the cards in your hand to shuffle it and begin a new round. He purposefully let your fingers brush to feel the familiar heat whenever they touched.

You bit your lip as you felt the familiar flutter in your heart and heat rise to your cheeks whenever your skin touched. You turned to the fire to hide it from your knight, and as your room was enveloped with silence, the door being forced open caught your attention once more. Aemond quickly stood, ready for an attack, but it was only your father, the king; the knight quickly bowed and placed further distance between the two of you. “You have been in hiding for a week,” Your father stated, his gaze flying to you, then to the cards on the floor, and then to your knight, who still bowed.

“I have no wish to venture outside— they might force me upon a lord once again.” You said in truth, keeping the true reason for your hiding to yourself, though you knew your knight assumed it was because of your argument with your mother; it was not. It was not the first time she said such hurtful words to you; in truth, you had gotten quite used to it. Your father sighed, moved to you, and assisted you to stand just so the two of you could sit on your settee. Aemond moved silently towards the door. He felt like he should be stationed outside, but he could not do so just in case your father had the same reaction as your mother.

“You need not fret about such matters, my darling,” Your father comforted you as he came to know of your mother’s outburst in your chambers a week ago. Ser Aemond stoically stood by the door as a witness, a protector, and, if need be, a shoulder to cry on as you were once again distressed about the matters of courtship— your knight finding some relief in your reluctance. “But mother—“ Your father hushed you. “Though lord Dumont’s house does hold a hefty influence in the kingdom, you forget, we are still the rulers of it,” Your father said lowly, trying to comfort you, his confidence in his station effortless and edging into smug. “Mother and brother are insistent on me meeting my suitors, but father… I do not wish to get married yet or be betrothed!” Aemond breathed out in relief as he heard your words.

“I know, my darling, I know. And you must not let them get to you— you have my word, I will not force you upon a betrothal until you are truly ready, pay no mind to your mother and brother. I still have the final word— and you will not be married until you wish it to be,” he smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead as you gave him a smile. “Thank you, Father,” You said in relief. “And mother anbd brother?” You questioned as he stood. “Your mother has been wanting to see you married off the moment you were born,” He admitted, his heart lightly pinching at the devastation in your eyes. “And your brother only does her bidding.” He added, cupping your cheek. “I’ll handle them. As long as I live, you will not marry until you wish— if you want, you could be a spinster and be in my care forever,” Your father smiled reassuringly, as he, too, was not ready for the day you shall be taken from him. “Now, I hear the cooks made cacao pie. Shall I send you a piece? Or perhaps two?” He questioned, glancing towards your knight, who he came to learn had always been by your side. That Ser Aemond was the one to break your habits of escaping and even became your companion, for everyone in court never had the courage to grow close to you as they feared your station. You smiled a true smile and nodded, watching as your father went towards your knight, who straightened his stance.

“I commend you, Ser Aemond. May you not falter from your duty,” The king said lowly, clapping the knight’s shoulder before he exited the room. When the door closed, Aemond turned to you, and all the melancholy you harbored disappeared as your lips finally regained your constant small smile. Aemond swallowed thickly as the conflicting emotions in him battled. He had to force himself to remove his gaze from your frame as the look in your eyes made his knees weak. Aemond turned his eye towards the window, the thick dark clouds departing, and finally, the light of the sun that refracted to the moon finally shinned down the kingdom; just as he wagered, the weather improved the moment your mood did.

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hurlingdown · 2 months

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HUNGRY WORK — TOP! MALE! READER X RORONOA ZORO

synopsis. these days, making love to zoro feels different. it always leaves a part of you so complex and insatiable, like you're always hungry for more. or: you come into terms with the raw hunger that has wormed itself into your every living thought. wc. 2.1k

tags. sub! zoro, dom! reader. religious sex, porn with feelings, by that i mean so so much feelings, body worship, metaphorical womb-fucking, breeding kink, mentions of vore, unhinged religious dirty talk lol. title taken from a hozier song.

There are many shapes that want can take form in. For you, there’s only one.

Zoro lies underneath you, basking in the glow of the tender sunrays, stretching lazily like a cat. The corners of his lips are lifted, and there’s something quietly smug about the way he’s looking at you, watching as you sit back on your haunches and roll your hips against him.

“Mmm. Feels good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper. You didn’t mean for it to come out like a whisper, but it just did. The sight of him so sweetly unfurled by your touch, the way he would part his thighs a little more without having you coax them apart, being so comfortably unguarded around you, so carelessly vulnerable. It left you breathless.

“Yeah,” he says. His lidded gaze never leaves you, not even once, silently waiting. For what, you think, is the question. A flip of the coin could bring about maelstrom and thunder and Zoro—Zoro would follow. It was the fun part of him, in the thick of all the pieces you want to consume within you: keep him inside, away from the rest of the world, in a picture of a locket hung on a throbbing heart.

You wish it were that easy.

“Something’s—mm.” He parts his lips to let out a soft, guttural moan as the tip of your cock crushes against his sweet spot. “Something’s on your mind.”

It was always, always like that. The way he reads you as though he were deciphering text, and the funny thing about all of it was that Zoro does not read, but he reads you still. You feel your heart squeeze at his small, concerned frown, dark grey turning silver under shallow light.

You want to crawl into him, or swallow him whole, it doesn’t matter. You would resort to begging if you could, you would drain the sea and burn every gritty bit of this vile world into cinder and offer him its remains in the shape of a heart on a platter, if you could.

Death was far too light of a promise.

“It’s alright,” you tell him, because you’re not alright, but it doesn’t matter.

He gives you a look, one that tells you to try harder, not convinced. His hands skid up your forearms, resting in the crook of your elbow, thumbs pressing into the tender meat there. Then he takes one and guides it to palm the sharp jowl of his cheek, and nestles his face into it.

You seize a shaky breath. You're not sure why it happens at first, but it does.

“Move,” he murmurs, nudging his hips against the base of your cock, as though he doesn’t see the way your eyes burn with the water of tears, doesn’t feel the stutter of your heart in the way his lips press into your pulse.

“No. You don’t,” you choke, throat tightening, “you don’t understand.”

Do I have to? is what you think he would say, but he doesn’t, only sighs.

“You don’t know how I feel about you,” you say, feeling oddly defensive. “You’d feel sick to your stomach if you did.”

His eyelid flutters close until there you can barely, barely see the tint of grey beneath, unwilling to acknowledge you, but he’s listening.

“You would hate me,” you continue, almost rambling at this point, baffled as to why it feels so hard to breathe all of a sudden, like you’re drowning in your own false words. “Sure, you would pretend not to, because you’re good at that stuff, and I’m not. You would pretend to love me. You wouldn’t even mention it to the crew—and—and everything’s going to be fine, but in reality it wouldn’t be because you’d hate me.”

You want him to see you. Both sides of you. The one he fell in love with—the sinless, pristine one on the surface; and the one who wanted to carve yourself into him, take him apart and devour him wholly.

Zoro’s quiet, and you’re seized with a sudden fear that maybe he did fall asleep, and you were talking your heart bare to nobody. But then he opens his good eye, and there’s almost nothing, nothing within, except for a warmth so potent and all-consuming, so tender and selfless, that it sends sweet bile rising in your throat, makes you want to kiss and take and love so much, all because he is willing.

The words come out all wrong.

“I can’t stay,” you tell him, weakly. “Not if it’s like this.” Not if it feels as though I’m hiding myself from you, constantly, always. I want you to love me. The whole of me. Please.

There’s too little to fill the silence, each moment pressing new bruises into skin, branding a new kind of ache into you. “Say something. Zoro.” You’re desperate, even for a goodbye. A profanity. Anything.

It takes him a while to respond. But then all he says is, low and unwavering, as though none of this is affecting him, none of this matters to him as it does to you—

“I won’t keep you if you leave.”

The words sink in for half a second, before your eyes snap to his—in hurt, bewilderment, both, you don’t know. You suppose you are deserving of his harsh words, but it still tears into you like a jagged, unsharpened blade, an ugly tool only meant for breaking. You prepare yourself for the next.

“—but I want to.”

It drowns you like a tidal wave.

You would’ve thought you were dreaming, if not for the tightening of his fingers wound around your wrist, as though to forbid themselves from trembling. A strong, firm grip, heavy warmth oozing from underneath. Zoro’s hands have always been the steadiest part of him, if not his heart.

“Do you understand?” he asks, almost pleading, and the sound trickles into every crook of your soul.

“Okay,” you whisper. You find that you can breathe, finally. “Okay.”

“I won’t keep you,” he continues, “because you are free. I don’t own you. But I want to. Gods, I want to.”

Zoro does not believe in god, but he will pray to a religion of your name.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, stifling any noise, but your vision blurs and all of a sudden there’s wetness spilling down your cheeks and dribbling onto the face of your lover. You wipe them away with your thumb, sucking in a wobbly breath, but they keep coming and coming, trying to submerge you in a sea where everything will drown.

“Fuck—shit, ’m sorry. Give me a sec.”

It's no longer fresh pain, but to have him here, his touch surrounding you, telling you that what you feel for him—this carnal hunger that has wormed its way into your every living thought—is the truth, is the surviving, that you aren’t insane, and it makes you ache so impossibly sweet. Because he wants you too, wants to own you in a way that he knows he shouldn’t, can’t. It grounds you to reality.

You feel his hand on your cheek, a soundless comfort in return, and you lean against it.

But then all of a sudden, in a twist of events far too brisk for your liking, there’s a sharp glint to his smile, and he coos in a disgusting voice, “Aww, crybaby,” because of course he would. Frustrated, you snap up and thrust your hips against him, and he yelps, letting go of your face to fist the sheets, surprised.

This is the fun part of Zoro, you recall. Always. Maelstrom and thunder.

“You’re a bastard,” you hiss. “We were having a moment!”

“Were we?” He tosses you a dirty smirk, legs locking around your waist so casually and innately that makes something inside you churn. “You were the one, ah, fucking into me so suddenly, if I recall.”

He has no cover, as usual, vulgar and to the point, and you begin to think that somewhere within him dwells a part as hideous and self-seeking as yours.

“I don’t plan on stopping,” you mutter, fingers pressing bruises into his hips as you ram back into his hole. “Zoro. I want—I want to do so many things to you. With you. You have no idea.”

The drop in tone makes his demeanour shift. Slightly, but you see it. These things do not escape you easily.

“I know,” is his breathless reply. “Please.”

“I want you so much it drives me mad,” you breathe, “I don’t just—want this, and I am happy if this is all you want to give, but I want all of you. Every inch. Every scar. I want to read your body like a book. The insides and the outsides. All of it.”

He lets out a soft almost-whine at your words, head tilting to the side to expose his neck. “Please,” he repeats, with a little more meaning.

“I want to—to break you apart and seal you back together because that would mean I created you. This version of you, not some dirty god out there, not some nameless devil. Zoro, do you understand? Zoro.”

“Yeah,” he pants. “Yeah, please. Do it. I want it.”

“I want to carve you, bone and marrow. I want to make your womb swollen with me, they're gonna think someone's knocked you up. Make you all mine. Fuck, I want to eat you,” you groan, “want it so much I think about it every day—want to bite you, sink my teeth into you, drink in your blood.”

Zoro’s pupils are blown wide with lust, and he clenches around you, gasping. “Fuck. Yeah, do whatever you want, I want it all, so please, already—”

That’s his answer enough, and you bend down to kiss his exposed neck, nipping and biting carelessly, leaving a trail of raw purple wherever your teeth go. You pound into him harder, and he moans, snaking a hand to grip the back of your head, pressing you against him, as though you weren’t close enough, still.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, and it feels like a truth’s been pulled out from you. “So divine. I want to ruin you.”

Zoro shudders in your arms, and he gives a shaky nod, strong arms compressing you from above, keeping his thundering chest pressed to yours. “Ruin me,” he rasps, “and leave a scar, so everyone would know you did it.”

Then he’s seizing a sharp breath, pulling you into a kiss as sweet moans needier than the last spill into your mouth like sour wine, and you vaguely hear the wet splatter of his come against skin before his hole grips you wickedly tight.

How ironic.

These are the words that you last register when you finally spill out all of your sin into him, and he locks up around you tight to keep it all inside his filthy, tarnished womb, and it takes you straight to heaven.

You cry out in pleasure, or maybe it’s him who does. Holy light pours into you from above, and you part your lips to drink in it.

It might have taken a minute, or two—maybe more, but you feel so blissed out and high that it takes you a moment to notice that you’re almost sinking, all the strength leaving your body. You realise that the thing beneath you is the only thing that belongs to you. It is solid, and warm, and you hold it to your chest to feel it breathe.

“Y’okay?” your thing asks you between heavy breaths, and you shake your head, far too dizzy.

There’s a low chuckle, one that resonates in the entirety of it. And as the vibrations seep into you wave by wave, tremor after tremor, there’s a slow, heavy bubbling in your chest. It begins in small fizzes, like the ones that froth when billows collide, but then it starts to grow larger, and larger, like hot, gurgling lava in the midst of a volcano. It feels tight, hard to breathe, almost.

“Zoro?” you ask, unsure, and the hand on the nape of your neck squeezes.

“I’m here,” he answers, tiredly. Always here.

“I feel weird," you tell him, truthfully.

“Is it a good kind of weird?”

You take a second to think, that he must be right. “... yeah. Maybe.”

“Then it’s fine,” he sighs, arms wounding around your shoulders to shift your weight to the side. “You deserve to feel good.”

He presses the side of your face to his chest, your ear right above his heart, before slowly drifting into slumber.

The bubbling within you simmers, gradually, over time, and you close your eyes. You deserve to feel good, his words echo in the dark.

It hits you, the belated apprehension, that this—whatever you’re feeling—is happiness.

It breathes life into you. masterlist! # feeding the zoro lovers. repost of my old work btw - fav thing i've ever written for him so far. zoro canonically has a complicated relationship with god and religion so it was fun to explore how he views religion in carnal desire

now all i need is to write something filthy for his asura form

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