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bumblesimagines · 4 months ago

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‘i never thought i'd ever see you again.’

‘i never got your name.’

w/ milly’s rhaenyra and male! reader ? like maybe male reader ends up being her betrothed rather than laenor xd

Pronouns: He/Him/His

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, Alicent and Viserys marriage, arranged marriage trope, not much tbh?, some lying by omission, some mentions of rhaenyra's complicated relationship with gender

Rhaenyra's veins buzzed with anger, irritation, and exhaustion, the reins tightly gripped in her hands leaving imprints along her palms as she rode through the forest. The wind lashed at her face, her silver hair whipping behind her; the closest thing she could get to mimicking the feeling of flying with Syrax. Her father's words echoed in her mind, reminding her she'd never be the son he always longed for. Always just the princess, always just the daughter meant to marry some noble arse and have a million of his babies, even as the heir to the throne.

A furious groan escaped her lips, her eyes beginning to sting with tears. She rapidly blinked them away at the sight of another person up ahead by the lake and tugged on the reins, bringing the horse's speed down to a trot. Her chest heaved with pants and her hair had no doubt lost the pristine style her handmaidens had brushed it into, the bright color of it being the only telling part of her royal blood. The stranger crouched by the lake looked over his shoulder at her and stood, wiping his dripping hands on his pants.

"Princess Rhaenyra," He bent at the waist in a bow, his boots leaving prints in the mud as he approached his grazing horse. He wrapped his hands around the reins and swept his eyes over her, his lips curling playfully. "Which fool has upset the heir of the Iron Throne so soon into the day?"

Rhaenyra released a dry, breathless laugh. "My father." She answered, half-expecting him to trip over himself to take his words back but he hummed and nodded, heaving himself up on the saddle of his horse. The horse huffed softly and raised its head, chewing on the last bits of grass in its mouth.

"Fathers make the worst fools." He said, gently tugging on the reins in her direction, the calmness in his demeanor reminding her of her uncle in a way. There he stood in the presence of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and he seemed as if he were speaking to an old friend. Rhaenyra relaxed at that, used to most trying to suck up to her or being intimidated by her titles, but she couldn't help eyeing him with a hint of suspicion.

His clothes lacked any specific coloring symbolizing one of the Great Houses for they were mostly brown and akin to what the smallfolk typically wore but even the most confident of peasant men were prone to stuttering or stumbling over themselves. The stranger simply smiled at her, dipping his head as his horse walked past her and back into the forest.

"I never got your name," Rhaenyra called, pulling on the reins and pressing her heels into her horse's sides. The horse complied and moved after him swiftly, slowing down once they were walking side by side on the small natural trail leading back to the Royal camp. With a better look at him, Rhaenyra had to admit he was handsome, especially with the mystery surrounding him.

"Surely my name is unimportant to a lady such as yourself, Princess." He spoke with a hint of a playful tone, his head tilted back to watch the birds fluttering about overhead.

Rhaenyra hummed quietly and looked forward once again, dread beginning to bubble up in her stomach. She'd made a bit of an outburst after her and King Viserys's little spat in the main tent, and she hardly had the patience or desire to face her father or the other nobles who'd witnessed it. "You claim fathers make the worst fools." She glanced at him. "What makes yours a fool?"

"He's stubborn, as most old men are." He sighed. "He never allows his mind to shift from his opinions, even if it may cost his family. Though, I suppose when my mother is the one making the actual decisions, he desires to show his fellow men he's in charge."

"I'd like to meet your mother." Rhaenyra chuckled softly, the words repeating in her mind and making her throat tighten with intense longing. Nothing would ever be able to replace the immense gaping hole in her heart left behind by her mother's passing and her father's decisions afterward. The vultures circled and circled until her body had been reduced to ash before they swooped down to peck at the leftovers. Otto... Alicent.

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply through her nose and plastered on a polite yet fake smile, turning to look at him once more. (Y/N) finally dropped his attention away from the sky and turned toward the princess, arching a questioning brow upon noticing the look on her face. "What is it, Princess? We must make haste if we wish to return to camp before nightfall."

She groaned. "I do not wish to return to camp. I... I wish I were someone else, frankly.. someone nobody would be able to sell off to some fancy man like a mare and made to live the endless cycle of falling pregnant and producing child after child until my husband is content. I am a princess and the heir to the throne yet- yet I am treated no better than your common lady."

"Us men do have more freedom, though I am afraid you'd be forced to marry regardless of being of either sex, Princess. It is what's expected of the highborn folk." He shrugged lightly, glancing over the branches above and scanning the sky for the position of the sun. "I suppose we may ride through the forest for a while longer but if anyone were to search for us, they'd be... far from thrilled seeing us unchaperoned and alone together. They may even have us wed." He winked playfully.

"Is that not what lowborns dream of? Marrying royalty?"

"Aye, some do. There's many a tale of beautiful lowborn daughters being swept away by a handsome dashing knight. You cannot fault the imagination of the desperate." He spoke and tugged gently at his reins, directing his horse off the path and further into the Kingswood. Rhaenyra followed, pleased to hear the bustle and chatter of camp drift further and further away.

"Where are you from, man with no name? A distant land?" She questioned teasingly, taking note of the way her thighs began to ache. It'd been too long since she last took to a saddle, she realized. Rhaenyra would remedy that quickly when she returned home. The stranger laughed softly, a pleasant-sounding thing, and gave her a grin.

"If consider The Reach a distant land, then yes." He responded.

Commonly known for being the home of chivalry and where knighthood was greatly esteemed by its residents, the Reach was perhaps one of the wealthiest regions in all of Westeros. Rhaenyra had heard plenty of it from Alicent back when they exchanged more than forced pleasantries. Her former friend oft' spoke of showing her around Oldtown, the home of House Hightower and the most notable city in the Reach. There were many houses, many places her newfound friend would live and work near. She tried recalling all the houses from the Reach that'd attended the hunt.

"And whom may your lord be? Lord Hightower?"

"Lord Tyrell." He answered. "He believes I am too young to not be wed with children by now. He is a kind man, if not perhaps rather daft at times. I'm fond of him, truly, even when he becomes aggravating."

"It's rather surprising to hear you are close with Lord Tyrell." Rhaenyra's brows raised. Sure, plenty of lords and ladies favored the servants who took care of them frequently, but they hardly ever got close enough with them to speak so freely.

"Oh," He chuckled. "He's known me since I was a babe."

By the time night fell, they'd strolled through part of the Kingswood in avid conversation, only putting an end to their riding when it was deemed better to collect some wood for a fire. Rhaenyra leaned back against a fallen log and listened to the comforting sound of fire crackling, the embers rising and spinning through the air with each delicate breeze that swept by. She watched them dance with the breeze while her thoughts drifted elsewhere, to what life may have been if she'd been born as her father's desired prince.

"You should sleep, Princess." The Tyrell boy spoke from his spot beside her, his arm perched up on the log and hoisting up his head. His eyes remained closed but his body seemed alert, fingers twitching with each distant crunch or animal cry. "We'll rise with the sun and return to camp lest anyone realize you spent the night away with a stranger. I'd rather remain off King Viserys radar."

"Is that so? What if I wish to tell my father of how I met an odd man out in the woods? That'll surely garner his attention." Rhaenyra giggled softly and turned to look at him, watching the corner of his lips twitch upward.

"It certainly would, Princess." He murmured and lifted his head, gently rubbing his knuckle over his eye and glancing over the dark woods around them. The fire illuminated his face in a warm, near-golden glow. Rhaenyra thought of her father's insistence that she wed someone, anyone. What would he do, she wondered, if she told him of a lowborn she liked?

"You never told me your name."

"It is of little importance, as I said. You will return home to King's Landing soon and all this will become a distant memory in days to come." His eyes slid over to her, and she hummed quietly, her lips parting to insist otherwise but she knew the life of court would sweep her up and she'd only recall him late at night when her thoughts stopped running. "Sleep."

"I do not plan on forgetting you." She told him in a surge of confidence and some rebellion, planting her hand on the forest floor beneath them and leaning forward to press their lips together. Not her first time kissing someone, for she and Alicent had exchanged curious kisses during their youth but her body nonetheless tingled with excitement.

"Princess," He sighed but she placed her other hand on his cheek before he could draw back and scold her on whichever societal rule they broke. "You-"

Rhaenyra tilted her head back slightly, swiping her tongue over her lips and giving him a small smile. "I wish to be free for a moment. Will you help me?" She asked softly, staring into his (E/C) eyes hopefully, otherwise it'd be a rather awkward night.

"Whatever the princess's desires."

The time had finally arrived when her father had grown tired and displeased with the lack of progress in their combined search for a suitable husband. He'd strongly considered Laenor Velaryon in hopes of mending what'd been broken when he chose Alicent over Laena, but the rumors of the young Velaryon preferring boys over girls reached King Viserys ears fast enough for him to change his mind and choose another strong contender.

"I believe you'll be quite content with Highgarden, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke softly, her words directed at her but eyes distant as she bounced little Helaena in her arms. Her handmaiden remained silent as she attempted to wrangle a wiggling Aegon and Rhaenyra could only grimace at the struggle. "It is.. a beautiful place. My mother was friends with Lady Tyrell in her youth and oft' spoke of the beauty of it."

"I see." Rhaenyra sighed. "I am.. certain it is as lovely as you claim. But I will reside in King's Landing, as it is my duty as heir, is it not?" She lifted her brows at her father.

King Viserys sighed deeply and opened his mouth to speak but the carriage lurched to a stop and their names were called into the air, signaling their arrival at the seat of House Tyrell. Rhaenyra inhaled through her nose and held it to calm the irritation simmering in her veins, reminding herself there was a chance at seeing the mysterious stranger from Kingswood. Her legs shifted under the skirt of her beige-colored dress, thighs pressing together as she felt the ghost of his lips roaming over her shoulders and the touch of his hands when they cupped her face.

"The Princess and heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen!"

Rhaenyra gathered her skirt in her hands and stood up from the cushioned seat, moving toward the door and carefully stepping down. Her eyes first wandered over the large white stone castle surrounded and protected by three rings of stone walls. Many of the outer walls were covered by sparse greenery, from ivy vines to beautiful roses. She could hear the delicate sound of a harp playing coming from the open doors leading into the castle. Everything felt... calming in Highgarden.

"King Viserys," Lord Tyrell greeted eagerly, bowing as far as his frail bones allowed him to while his wife gave a short curtsy and regarded them with an air of coolness. Rhaenyra liked her already. Lifting his arms and offering a pleasant smile, Lord Tyrell said, "Welcome to Highgarden. It is an honor to host our King, Queen, and Princess."

"What a beautiful home you have." Alicent complimented, her elbow subtly bumping into Rhaenyra's arm.

"Yes," Rhaenyra nodded and Lord Tyrell's features brightened with the praise. "It is... incredibly soothing being here already."

"You flatter us with your praise, My Queen, My Princess." Lady Tyrell offered a polite smile, her hand rubbing along the subtle bump in her belly, soaking in Rhaenyra with her eyes before she turned sideways and nodded up the flight of stairs for someone else to join them. "And we are incredibly flattered you answered our proposal. May I introduce my son, Ser (Y/N) Tyrell."

Rhaenyra's gaze flickered away and her eyes widened into near saucers. The stranger from the Kingswood grinned mischievously back at her, no longer clad in dirty clothes and instead in dark green with the sigil of House Tyrell. (Y/N) Tyrell... what a sneaky bastard, he was. Rhaenyra clamped her teeth into her bottom lip and forced herself to be silent under the watchful eyes of everyone around them. Her heart fluttered, a million questions and playful complaints flying through her mind.

"King Viserys, Queen Alicent," (Y/N) bowed in greeting to the two, a fond smile gracing his lips when he gazed upon her half-siblings before a playful twinkle appeared in his eyes once he turned to her. He scooped her hand into his and raised it up to his face, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "Princess Rhaenyra, what an honor to finally meet you." Rhaenyra finally smiled.

"Now with the pleasantries aside, we've hosted a feast in honor of your arrival and this beautiful betrothal." Lord Tyrell said and eagerly beckoned them within the castle as servants swiftly took their belongings into the castle and to their temporary bedchambers. Her father and Alicent followed, the two men chatting blissfully and sharing laughter while their wives walked idly side by side.

"Would you like a tour of the gardens? They're in full bloom this time of year." (Y/N) offered her his arm and she took it, giving a nod and allowing him to guide her into the castle where the sound of the harp grew closer and louder, the gentle music filling the bright halls.

"I never thought I'd ever see you again," Rhaenyra admitted, gazing over the light-colored walls. Everything in Highgarden seemed bright and warm, especially welcoming and calming. The Red Keep oft' felt dreary and cold but Highgarden seemed vibrant with life and more open with large windows allowing the light to pour in. "Why did you keep this hidden? I would not have cared if you were a noble."

"I never said I was a lowborn, Princess. You assumed I was." (Y/N) reminded her lightly, guiding her down a flight of stairs and into a large vibrant garden with a gorgeous fountain in the middle spouting water in a continuous flow. He plucked a bright red rose from a bush and offered it to her. "It appears the Gods had plans for us regardless, though."

Chuckling, Rhaenyra took the rose. "It appears so."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x male reader #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x y/n #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x male reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x male reader #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen x reader

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soulofapatrick · 11 months ago

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Kiss Me Tired - Percy Jackson x Female Reader

Summary: you can't sleep so go to find your best friend - Percy

Words: 1.9k

warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

I find myself tossing and turning, the sheets tangling around my restless limbs, as elusive sleep evades me once again. The Apollo cabin is quiet, the soft hum of night almost suffocating in its stillness. Moonbeams trickle through the window, casting gentle patterns of the wooden floors.

Grateful for being on the bottom bunk tonight, I slide from under the covers with practiced ease. The gentle thud as my feet meet the floor barely makes a sound, but each step feels amplified in the silence of the sleeping cabin. Slipping on a pair of shoes without lacing them up, I make my way to the door, my heart pounding louder than the muted thuds of my footsteps. The door creaks slightly as I ease it open, wincing at the noise before exhaling a relieved breath as it swings shut behind me.

Staying close to the comforting cover of shadows, I weave my way through the lingering clusters of campers, their hushed conversations mixing with the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The children of Nemesis and Nyx, silhouetted against the faint glow of the campfire, seem engrossed in their own whispered discussions, oblivious to my presence as I navigate the edges of their gathering.

I skirt the edges of the Poseidon Cabin, a refuge I’ve often visited, and slip inside, grateful for the cover of darkness. The familiar scent of saltwater and adventure lingers in the air. The cabin is eerily quiet, echoing with the absence of Percy—the solitary presence that usually defines it.

My steps echo softly against the wooden floor as I venture further in. The moonlight filters through the windows, causing elongated shadows that dance across the cabin’s interior. Percy’s empty bed confirms his absence, leaving the cabin strangely deserted.

Curiosity propels me deeper into the cabin, my gaze landing on the backdoor open, leading to the pontoons. The moon’s silvery trail illuminates the pathway to the water’s edge, inviting and ethereal. The realisation settles in—Percy, the sole child of Poseidon, often seeks solace by the lake, where the water sings the tales of his father’s realm.

The sight before me steal a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Percy sits there, silhouetted against the shimmering reflection of the moon on the water, a portrait of quiet strength and contemplation. His unruly hair catches glimmers of moonlight, creating an otherworldly halo around him.

As I draw nearer, the tranquility that envelopes him seems almost tangible. The lake mirrors the night sky, stars dancing on its surface, and Percy, the living embodiment of that serene beauty, captures my attention entirely.

He turns at the faint rustle of my approach, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his pretty lips. His sea-green eyes, illuminated by the moon’s gentle glow, hold a depth that echoes the mysteries of the ocean. It’s mesmerising, the way he seems both a part of the night and a beacon within it.

Percy’s messy black hair catches the moonlight in a way that makes it seem like constellations have woven themselves into the strands, each unruly wave a testament to the untamed spirit he embodies. His lightly tanned skin, kissed by the sun’s rays and caressed by the gentle breeze, holds a warmth that feels inviting even in the cool night air.

As I settle next to him, a comfortable ease settles between us. Percy shifts slightly, adjusting his position, and I follow suit, instinctively resting my head on his shoulder. It feels oddly natural, as if this silent language of unspoken understanding has been written int he stars all along. The coolness of the night dissipates against the warmth of his presence. His shoulder, solid and reassuring beneath my head, carries the weigh of both the wards burdens and its beauty.

His sea-green eyes, s deep and enigmatic, gaze out into the horizon, the mysteries of the universe reflecting in their depths. The seven expression on his face speaks volumes, as if he’s a silent guardian, watching over the secrets of the night. The gentle breeze whispers secrets to the night, and I feels Percy’s arm, strong and comforting, wrap around my waist, pulling me a fraction closer to him. It’s a gesture of silent understanding, an unspoken invitation to share the weight of ur silent night-time musings.

“Why can’t you sleep, Mouse?” Percy’s voice, soft and inquisitive, breaks the tranquil silence with my stupid nickname he made for me. His concern is palpable, yet I hesitate to divulge the true reason behind my sexlessness, my heart pounding against the confession I’m afraid to voice.

I shift slightly, trying to evade the truth, the words catching in my throat as I struggle to articulate the turmoil within, “Just… thoughts, I guess. You know how it is.”

But it’s a hollow response, a mere veil covering the truth that simmers beneath the surface. The mere thought of Percy and Annabeth together as a couple, a union so celebrated and cherished among demigods, twists a knot in my stomach, a painful reminder of my unspoken feelings for him.

The fear of vulnerability and the ache of unrequited affection hold me captive in a silence that feels suffocating. I can’t bring myself to admit the ache his closeness evokes, the ache that surges every time I see them together, facing the world as a pair that everyone wants to see. The perfect couple.

A grumble of protest escapes my lips, as I know he sees through my lie as he stays silent, a frustrated sound that I can’t seem to contain. I turn my face, burying it in the comforting crook of his neck, hoping to hide the turmoil that threatens to spill over. His chest rumbles with a soft laughter, a sound that’s both comforting and teasing, pulling me out of my momentary retreat.

Before I realise it, his finger hooks gently under my chin, lifting my face to meet to gaze. The concern etched into his expression melts away any remaining resistance, coaxing me to open up even as my heart clenches with the vulnerability of it all.

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, his sea-green eyes searching mine, an unspoken invitation tp share whatever weighs on my mind.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to dissipate. The urge to confess tugs at my heartstrings, a silent plea to unburden the ache that gnaws at me. But the words romain elusive, trapped behind a barrier of fear and insecurity.

My heart hammers against my chest as his thumb traces a gentle path across my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that seeps into the cracks of my guarded emotions. I meet his gaze, sea-green eyes holding mine in a silent conversation that speaks volumes.

I feel myself drawn to him, my eyes inadvertently tracing the curve of his lips. The soft moonlight casts an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face in a way that feels almost surreal.

As my gaze lingers on his lips, a surge of emotions—longing, fear, and a yearning for something more—swirl within me. Self-control wavers as my heart takes over, propelled by an undeniable urge to bridge the gap between us.

Without warning, without calculation, I lean forward, closing the space between us. My lips meet his in a moment that feels both suspended in time and yet over too soon. It’s a soft, tentative touch, a leap of faith and vulnerability woven into the tender connection.

For a heartbeat, the world stills around us, the air crackling with the unspoken truth of our shared emotions. The warmth of his lips against mine like a revelation, a stolen moment that lingers as a testament to the unspoken desires I’ve kept hidden. But, just as quickly as it happens, the weight of the moment hits me, the reality crashing down like a tidal wave. I pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, my heart thundering in my chest, uncertainty clouding my thoughts.

“Perce… Fuck, I’m sorry, I-“

Before I can finish my stammered apology, the words tumbling out in a jumble of regret and confusion, Percy’s gentle touch silences my anxious ramblings. He leans in, cutting off my faltering speech with a soft yet determined press of his lips against mine. It’s a kiss that carries a subtle urgency, a reassurance woven into the tender connection that leaves me breathless and wide-eyed.

His lips, warm and inviting, mould against mine in a way that feels both familiar and utterly new. There’s a tenderness to his touch, a silent promise of understanding and acceptance that sends a shiver down my spine. His kiss tastes like the promise of untold stories, of shared secrets whispered in the stillness of the night.

My heart leaps in my chest, responding to his gentle yet confident touch. I reciprocate, tentatively at first, before letting myself be swept away by the overwhelming rush of emotions. My hands, initially hovering uncertainly in the space between us, find their place, one resting against his chest and the other timidly finds its way to his cheek, relishing the warmth and softness of his skin.

His hands, strong yet tender, find their place at the small of my back, pulling me closer in an embrace that feels both reassuring and exhilarating. The closeness of our bodies, the shared warmth between us, creates a cocoon of intimacy that blurs the boundaries of friendship and something more.

The moment lingers, suspended in a haze of shared emotions, before Percy breaks the kiss, his breath mingling with mine as he gently pulls me onto his lap. My knees rest on either side of his hips, a sudden rush of adrenaline mingling with the warmth of our closeness. Then, he guides me down, our bodies molding together in a dance of longing and unspoken desires. His hands, firm yet gentle, cup my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks as he leans in for another kiss.

This time, there's a hunger in his touch, a raw passion that ignites between us. Our lips meet again in a union fuelled by the unspoken confessions of our hearts. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a dance of lips and tongues that express the emotions we've kept buried for so long. His fervour is matched by mine as I respond eagerly, the longing I've harboured finally finding an outlet in this shared intimacy. The taste of his kiss is electrifying, a rush of emotions that consumes every inch of my being.

My hands find their place on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer in a silent plea for more. Our bodies meld together, the heat of our closeness building an unspoken intensity that blurs the lines between friendship and an uncharted territory of passion.

In the soft moonlight, our embrace becomes a symphony of desire and longing, each movement a testament to the unspoken connection we've discovered. And as we lose ourselves in this intoxicating moment, the boundaries of what we were and what we might become blur in the heat of our shared passion.

“Come on sweetheart,” Percy finally pulls away, “You can sleep here tonight.”

Riordanverse Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

#percy jackson #percy Jackson x reader #percy Jackson x you #percy Jackson x y/n #percy Jackson smut #percy Jackson fluff #percy Jackson angst #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson series #camp half blood #pjo fandom #percy Jackson one shots #percy Jackson headcanons #Logan lerman

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littlexdeaths · 6 months ago

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eddie munson x chubby reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: established relationship, eddie is a horny simp for his girl always, alluding to smut, heavy petting

a/n: thank you to @strangerstilinski and @mugloversonly for looking this over and helping me with it. ily 💕

he’s lost it.

truly and utterly lost it. all because of a little dress.

a pretty little floral sundress that hugs the curve of your waist perfectly, that hits just above your knees so the soft pillowy skin of your thighs are on full display.

it’s the first time you’ve ever worn anything remotely like this, and eddie is convinced he’s died and gone to heaven. a heaven where he hopes to have his face buried between your legs.

it takes everything in him to not push you back inside your house and bend you over the sofa in your living room. you shift uncomfortably under his wandering eyes, unsure of what his newfound silence represents as he urgently tugs you towards his van.

eddie, of course, helps you up into the vehicle like the gentleman that he is. but seeing a flash of your lace panties has your boyfriend thinking anything but gentlemany thoughts.

but when he’s got you in the van, it’s almost worse.

once you’re seated the dress rides up your thighs, exposing even more skin to him. eddie has the steering wheel in a white knuckle grip as you excitedly chatter about your plans for the day at the lake, not even noticing the inner struggle he’s having.

however the closer he gets to lover’s lake and your friends, the more his composure begins to slip. his jeans are uncomfortably tight, and it’s truly a miracle you haven’t noticed the bulge in them. but with the blaring sounds of black sabbath echoing in your ears it was easy to miss.

“eddie, you remembered to bring the ice right?”

your soft voice finally cuts through his arousal filled haze, turning down the radio as his eyes dart back over to you.

or more so the hem of your dress that was bunched up in your lap.

“w-what, baby?” he stutters.

“did you pick up the ice?” you repeat, taking care to enunciate each word. your glossy lips further distracting him.

with a small huff you’re leaning back in your seat to glance in the back of his van, the red and white igloo cooler tucked securely behind your seat. but seeing the thin strap of your sundress begin to slip down your shoulder, your skin flushed with thin layer of sweat from the summer heat— is what finally breaks him.

the van screeches to a halt on the side of the dirt road, causing your body to jerk forward and the seatbelt to dig harshly into your tummy. eddie carelessly flings off his own as the cloud of dust begins to settle around you.

“eddie, what the—”

you’re cut off by his lips, his hands already splayed across the tops of your exposed thighs. his rings bite into your skin, pulling a soft gasp from you as he helps to maneuver you onto his lap.

“eds, baby,” you whine as his lips begin to trail down the side of your neck. “we’re gonna be late.”

his teeth nip at your warm flesh, coaxing the hem of your dress higher and higher up until his palms dig into the plush flesh of your ass.

“just say i forgot the ice…” he mumbles, the sound of his belt clinking open sends a rush of heat through you.

his actions are frantic as he slips your panties to the side, a strangled groan leaving his mouth at the wetness he finds.

“just gotta have you now, princess.”

#the freak writes 🫧#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x chubby!reader

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slytherinslut0 · 1 year ago

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Three-Info:you and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Heartbreak, ANGST AF, Dirty Talk, PIV, Praise Kink, Slight Degradation, Semi-Public Sex.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Emily's voice echoed through the air of your dorm room, her eyes widening in disbelief as she took in your drenched appearance. There you stood, next to your bed, trapped in the labyrinth of your thoughts, most likely looking like you had genuinely lost your ever-loving mind.

At last, you jerked your head up, locking eyes with her. "Apologies, Em...I'm just utterly drained. Honestly didn't even hear you come in."

"Why are you absolutely soaked?" Emily's tone switched to an almost amused drawl, one you could tell she was attempting to suppress. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed your waterlogged state. "Weren't you with Mattheo?"

Your cheeks flushed under her scrutiny, and you shifted uncomfortably before responding. "Yeah," you admitted, your tone slightly sheepish. "It's a bit of a story, really...Malfoy essentially dared me to jump in the lake, and, well, I couldn't resist the challenge."

Amusement twinkled in Emily's eyes as she settled onto her bed, her curiosity piqued. "Well, that's one way to make a splash," she quipped, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "So, spill the details. Is there some progress being made with those arsehats?"

You cleared your throat, a nervous smile playing on your lips. "I'm trying," you confessed, your voice laced with uncertainty. "It's a work in progress, but I think we're getting there, slowly but surely."

Emily nodded knowingly, her lips curving into a smirk. "Well, if anyone can handle a bunch of mischievous daredevils, it's you," she remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just be careful, yeah?"

"Of course," you replied, managing a meek smile despite the uneasy knot tightening in your chest. "Where were you tonight?”

Almost instantly, Emily's demeanor shifted, her gaze darting away, fixated on her fingers as she nervously twirled her chapstick. "I, uh...I was with Tom," she stammered, her voice trailing off uncertainly.

A sudden wave of realization crashed over you, leaving you feeling as if you were adrift in a stormy sea. Emily was with Tom?

You blinked, struggling to find the right words. "You-"

"I think I like him," she confessed, the words emerging strained, as if pulled through clenched teeth, her eyes avoiding yours. "I...I think I really like him..."

Her confession hung in the air, heavy with tension, sending shockwaves through your entire being. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat reverberating in the silence that followed. You stood there, motionless, breathless, your mind trying to grasp the reality of her revelation. What on earth was fucking happening?

Sensing your stunned reaction, Emily hurriedly left her bed, closing the distance between you two. Her eyes met yours, filled with regret and apology.

"I'm so incredibly sorry," she began, her words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "I mean, on the night of the party, we connected, and we kissed, and I haven't been able to shake those feelings since...I know you and Tom have been seeing eachother for a while, and I've felt terrible about this whole situation...I'm the worst friend, and I can't believe I let it get to this point...I just...I understand if you hate me or never want to talk to me again-"

"Emily," you interjected, your voice breaking through the heavy silence, your shock slowly giving way to a strange sense of understanding. Despite the chaos in your own life, you couldn't muster any anger. In fact, her revelation felt like a bizarre twist of fate, a surreal kind of perfect. "Me and Tom...we were never anything...I've never had any genuine feelings for Tom, not like that anyway..." you confessed, your words hanging in the air. "It's okay, Em...it's seriously more than okay."

Her eyes, brimming with guilt, met yours. "No… it isn't," she murmured, her fingers absently pushing a strand of hair off her forehead. "I just...I feel like the world's worst friend...I've been keeping secrets and hiding things from you...and that's not like us...I genuinely bloody hate myself for this…”

Her words hit you like a sledgehammer, the weight of your own secrets crashing down on you. How could you judge her when you were harbouring your own tangled emotions for Mattheo? Guilt clawed at your insides, a bitter reminder of your own deception, making it impossible to feel anything but empathy for Emily's confession.

Gently, your touch on her arm was a soft plea for understanding. "Em, please be kind to yourself," you implored, your voice carrying the weight of your own inner turmoil. "I'm far from perfect, and I completely understand...you don't ever have to be scared to tell me anything, I'll always be on your side..."

The desire to confide in her about Mattheo tugged at your heartstrings, but a tempest of conflicting thoughts raged within you. You longed to unburden yourself, to share the intricacies of your emotions--yet, doubts clouded your mind.

You questioned the wisdom of revealing a truth that seemed destined for heartbreak; one that was destined to go no where, especially after Mattheo's own cautionary words. The fear of shattering the fragile semblance of normalcy you'd managed to maintain held you back, leaving you caught between the honesty you craved and the security of your well-guarded secret.

"You're the greatest friend...I don't deserve you," Emily released a long sigh, meeting your eyes softly. "Are you sure you're not upset? I swear I'll never fucking talk to him again if-"

"No! No, Emily...I'm not upset," you said, through chuckles. You were upset, but it had nothing to do with her. "I want you to be happy, Em...Dumbledore once told me that if someone makes you feel, let them..."

"Gods, that man could make a bloody brick wall tear up," she breathed, finally cracking a smile, as though you'd lifted a weight off her shoulders. "I have to say though...I just don't know how you didn't fall for him...I mean, his fucking eyes alone had me melting..."

You released a breath, unable to swallow your smirk. Yeah, his eyes were beautiful, but only because they served as a reminder of Mattheo's--whose deep brown pools were nothing other than completely fucking captivating.

"I know," you said, your voice distant, lost in your thoughts as you stared into the distance. "Tom is wonderful," you continued, your words almost a whisper, the syllables heavy with unspoken sentiments. "It's just that, my heart...it wasn't in it."

Emily's brows furrowed with realization, her eyes darting across your face as though she could read the unsaid words swirling within your irises. "Where is your heart, then?"

Emily's question hung in the air, patiently awaiting your response, but your thoughts were elsewhere, entirely consumed by Mattheo. His captivating eyes, that tousled brown hair, and his infuriatingly complicated demeanor dominated your mind. Despite his dangerous reputation, he had always been your sanctuary--from the way he protected you to the depths of pleasure he led you to, he ignited desires you were hesitant to acknowledge.

Since the day you met him, you had been drawn in, entangled in a web of emotions you couldn't escape. The fear of succumbing to your desires warred with the undeniable pull he had on your heart, leaving you submerged in a sea of uncertainty, unsure if there was a way out of the depths you had willingly plunged into.

Meeting Emily's eyes, you could only confess, "I don't know," your voice tinged with desperation, as if seeking an answer that seemed just out of reach. "I...I have no fucking idea anymore..."

Her face dropped, shock etching lines across her features as she took a few delicate steps back, studying your face intensely. The intensity of her scrutiny made you nervous, your heart pounding so loudly you could almost hear it. You knew she had just realized precisely what the fuck was going on with you lately. You knew she'd finally fucking cracked your code.

You looked away, unable to maintain eye contact, and in a hushed tone, she said, "oh, Gods no...you...he's-he's such an asshole..."

"Yes, he is..." tension gripped your entire being, your body vibrating with nausea as you struggled to find the words. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Emily's eyes, your gaze fixed on the floor as you whispered, "but there's still good in him..."

Emily's eyes widened in disbelief, her shock palpable as she struggled to comprehend your words. "You're going to destroy yourself trying to fix him," she said, her voice edged with desperation. A heavy pause filled the room before she continued, her voice quivering, "He's done terrible things, remember when he sent that poor third year into the infirmary-"

"We've all done terrible things, haven't we?" you shot back, finally looking up at her. The intensity in your gaze matched the fierce determination in your voice. "We're all just sinners judging sinners for sinning differently, but no one ever bloody stops to ask why..."

Your steps were slow, but deliberate, each one echoing with the resonance of your unwavering determination as you closed some of the distance between you and Emily. The intensity in your eyes burned brightly, reflecting the depth of your emotions.

You were acutely aware of how utterly insane you must sound, how irrational and illogical your words might appear to her. Yet, in the depths of your heart, you longed for her understanding, for her to grasp the complexities that lay beneath the surface. You yearned for her to realize that there was a profound depth to your emotions, a truth far more intricate than what met the eye.

"Yeah, maybe he's bad...maybe he's completely fucking terrible," you said, your voice carrying a potent mix of fervor and defiance. "But when he smiles…when I look into his stupid, big eyes...all I see is the good in him..."

A profound silence hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of your words. You gauged Emily's reaction, observing the flicker of disbelief and uncertainty that played across her features.

"I made a promise...to Dumbledore...to myself...to Mattheo," you continued, your voice unwavering, each syllable resonating with unshakable resolve. "A promise that I'd fucking stand by him...that I'd show him patience and compassion...who would I be if I gave up on that?"

"Yeah, but..." Emily's eyes widened, her throat tightening as she struggled to find words to counter your conviction. "He's...he's a monster..."

"He's broken," you retorted, your tone unyielding, the depth of your empathy for Mattheo underscoring your words. "I don't care what happens to me, Em...I am a woman of my word..."

Emily swallowed. "Your heart is far too pure...your heart is going to ruin your future..."

"So be it." You said, flatly, steeling your shoulders as you released a long breath. "I am coming for all the ghosts that have ever haunted him...I am coming for all the demons that twisted his dreams and turned him into the fucking nightmare that he is, and I am going to be theirs, instead."

Without waiting for Emily's response, you brushed past her, your heart racing with anxiety over the fact that you had essentially revealed the truth about your relationship with Mattheo. The weight of your confession hung heavy on your shoulders, but you needed to clear your head. Silently, you made your way out of the dormitory, the echo of your footsteps reverberating in the empty corridor.

The familiar path to the prefects' washroom felt like a lifeline, leading you to the one person who could provide the reassurance you craved. Just as you made your way into the hall, the door creaked open, and a familiar brunette exited, her sly grin sending a shiver down your spine as her eyes met yours. Recognition struck you like a lightning bolt--it was the girl from the library, the one who had been intimately close to Mattheo all those weeks ago. As she disappeared from your view, your stomach plummeted, anxiety tightening into a nauseating knot.

With your heart heavy and anxiety clawing at your throat, you mustered the strength to push open the door. Inside, you found Mattheo, leaning wearily against the sink. His eyes, usually filled with intensity, were dulled by fatigue. His head was bowed, and his shoulders slumped, burdened by the weight of unseen struggles. He remained fully dressed, his appearance reflecting the weariness that mirrored your own inner turmoil.

"What was that?" you questioned, your voice trembling, and your chin quivering with vulnerability, your eyes pleading for an explanation that might soothe the turmoil within. "I thought we were okay?"

The sight of that girl leaving the washroom shattered the reassurance you had desperately sought. Doubts consumed you, racing through your mind like a storm. Had your recent fight driven that big of a wedge between you and Mattheo? Was he seeking solace in someone else's company because he was done with you? The questions multiplied, suffocating you with uncertainty. Your voice emerged as a cracked whisper, breaking the tense silence that hung between you both as Mattheo slowly met your eyes.

"Are we ever bloody okay, Raven?" His voice, laced with a tinge of exhaustion, fell flat, his eyes dark and cold as they bored into you. The endless depths of his gaze seemed impenetrable, hiding any flicker of emotion that might have offered solace. "I'm not even sure what you're going on about, truthfully,"

"The girl," your voice wavered, your vulnerability laid bare, "the same one from the library all that time ago...I just saw her leaving."

Mattheo grumbled irritably, the tension in the room palpable as he pushed off from the sink with a heavy sigh, his movements betraying his exasperation. He spun around, the muscles in his jaw clenched, his eyes stormy with frustration as he leaned back against the counter. His arms crossed over his chest defensively, his entire posture radiating a mix of annoyance and defiance.

"That girl is nothing to me, Raven," he declared, his voice low and gravelly, the words carrying a hint of irritation as he tried to emphasize his point. "Nothing at all."

You desperately wanted to believe him, to cling to his words like a lifeline, but doubt gnawed at your insides, poisoning your thoughts. After everything that had transpired between you, after your last fight, and the way he was acting now, you couldn't simply brush it aside.

"Nothing, huh?" Your voice grew firmer, laced with a mixture of hurt and skepticism. "So it's just a coincidence that you two were alone in here...and that she was grinning ear to ear when she left..."

Mattheo blinked, his surprise evident as he processed your words. This jealousy was uncharacteristic of you, a stark deviation from your usual composed self. His features contorted with a mixture of confusion and frustration, his eyes narrowing and jaw clenching in response to your accusation.

"Do you think I fucked her, Raven?" His words hung in the charged atmosphere, heavy with hurt and disbelief. Each syllable cut through the air, a searing venom that struck your heart like a dagger. "Do you actually fucking think that low of me?"

The raw pain in his eyes mirrored your own, a painful reflection of the trust that had been shattered between you, the wounds now gaping wide open, begging for resolution.

"You don't trust me..." Mattheo's expressions hardened further, his eyes blazing with a mixture of frustration and hurt. The room seemed to shrink around you as he pushed off from the sink, his movements deliberate and forceful, closing the distance between you before you could react. "You don't fucking trust me, do you?"

You tensed, every muscle in your body coiling like a tightly wound spring, bracing for the emotional storm that was about to engulf you. Mattheo stopped abruptly, his instincts sensing your reaction, his intense gaze locking onto yours. Your breathing became shallow, your chest constricted, and time seemed to stretch into eternity as you stood there, suspended in the moment.

"I want to..." your voice wavered, a fragile whisper barely audible in the heavy silence, carrying the weight of your longing and doubt. "But...I just...can't, when there you are...directly in front of me, still so fucking far away..."

You took a moment to study his features, the turmoil in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, and the vulnerability that flickered beneath his anger. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath, as though his heart was laid bare before you.

"A man with a shield for a heart, and a sword for a tongue," you continued, your voice a fragile thread weaving through the charged air. "How do I confide in that?"

Mattheo's eyes softened, just slightly, the storm within them giving way to a glimmer of sincerity. In that moment, he shed every ounce of hesitation, closing the space between you with an urgency that spoke volumes. His hands found your face, cupping it gently, forcing your eyes to meet his. The intensity in his touch, the tenderness in his gaze, told a story of its own.

"Raven...do you think I fucking care about anything other than you?" His voice, once sharp with frustration, now held a raw, earnest sincerity that cut through the lingering doubts and insecurities. "You're the only one I need...you're the only one that keeps me high..."

Your heart thundered in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears like a war drum, each beat reverberating with the intensity of his touch. His palms, warm against your cool skin, sent waves of heat through every inch of your body, cocooning you in a haze of desire and vulnerability. You blinked, your eyes unable to tear away from the depth of his stare.

"But?" you dared to whisper, your voice barely audible amidst the charged silence, the lump in your throat growing with each passing second. "I know you aren't finished, I see it in your expression..."

He stiffened, his hands slowly falling from your face, the loss of his touch leaving a void. His gaze, dark and intense, traced a path from your eyes down to your lips, the unspoken longing palpable between your bodies. The pain that hung in the air was almost tangible, the emotions that coursed through both of you reaching a fever pitch.

"When you close your eyes...when you think of this...of us, what do you see?" He whispered, his voice a mere breath, the words hanging in the air like a delicate thread. "Do you see a future, Raven?"

The question slammed into your lungs like a sledgehammer, stealing the very air from your chest. You had never truly considered what was going to happen at the end of the school year, but it was evident that he had, his eyes haunted by the uncertainty of the future.

You sucked in a lungful of breath, trapping it there, the oxygen feeling suffocating against the weight of his question. "I...I don't know..."

"Exactly," he murmured, his voice as soft as a breeze, but carrying the weight of an entire universe. "Something's telling me we're running out of time here, Raven...I always said I'd never deserve you, and I meant that..." he paused, averting his eyes only for a moment as he threaded an unsteady hand through his hair. "If we keep this going...something's bound to give...I can't let you throw away your future for me..."

You stalled, pain rushing through you. This whirlwind of emotions felt like a chaotic storm, each moment with him a battle between your hearts, oscillating from fiery arguments to heartbreaking distance. The constant push and pull had left you emotionally battered, but this time, the pain cut deeper than ever before.

"No...Mattheo...I..." your voice stammered, trembling with the intensity of your emotions. "I would much rather be nowhere with you, than somewhere without you..."

He stiffened, his entire being seeming to freeze in response to your words. "No, Raven, come on...don't fucking say that," he hissed, his voice laced with desperation. "You will not throw away your future for me...for whatever this is...you have to know that is fucking insane..."

"Mattheo, why?" you whispered, your voice breaking as you took a step closer, your heart aching with the weight of his decision. "Why are you doing this...I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything I said...I didn't-"

"It's not about that," he cut you off, his tone soft yet resolute. "It's not about any of that. We both know this only ends in blood...why prolong it...I’d never be able to live with myself if I ruined everything you’ve worked so hard for…”

Your chest ached, a visceral pain that radiated through every fiber of your being, your eyes darting all over his face as though seeking solace in the contours of his skin, as if something tangible could save you from this nightmare. He was right. Of course, he was absolutely fucking right. There was nothing you could say to deny his words, the harsh reality of your situation hanging heavy between you.

"I know you're right Mattheo," gently, you brought a trembling hand up to his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you cupped the side of his head, your own head tilting slightly as you glimpsed his lips, whispering with a vulnerability that laid bare your soul. "But even if it's meant to fall apart...I still fucking want you..."

"I know," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours. "I fucking know..."

"I'm scared as bloody hell, Mattheo..." you continued, your fingers digging slightly into his skin, his hands seeking refuge on your hips as he pulled you closer against him. "I'm fucking terrified to want you, yet here I am anyway..."

"I'm scared too, Raven..." he confessed, his voice barely audible, pulling you impossibly closer, your bodies melding into one another. "Godric fucking forbid I ever admit it..."

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tender, a delicate touch that held the weight of a thousand unspoken words. In that moment, you knew, without a shadow of doubt, that you two were one and the fucking same. He was more yourself than you ever were. Whatever your souls were made of, his and yours were intertwined in an indescribable connection.

"Give me this before you go..." you whispered, your free hand gripping his shirt for dear life, your voice laced with desperation and longing. "Please..."

Mattheo pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," without a moment's hesitation, you nodded, your eyes locked onto his, your conviction unwavering. "I'm sure."

In an instant, he pulled you back into him, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing kiss, the intensity mirroring the state of your crumbling relationship. His hands, strong and sure, quickly slithered up your sides, finding the buttons on your shirt.

Simultaneously, your trembling fingers mirrored his movements, undoing his shirt with a fervor that matched his own. The kiss deepened, your mouths melding together in a desperate attempt to drown out the world, seeking solace in each other's touch as you shed the barriers between you. The passion between your bodies consumed every ounce of your being, a wild, untamed force that pushed back against the chaos threatening to tear you apart.

As soon as the two of you were freed of your uniforms, Mattheo pulled back, his gaze intense, his eyes smouldering against your skin as he urged you to your knees in front of him. Without a word, you obeyed, staring up at him with a widened gaze, tracing the features of his face and chest that you admittedly loved so fucking much. Mattheo's eyes were doing the same, flickering over your curves, the swell of your breasts, the flare of your hips, until finally, they came to rest between your legs.

“You’re fucking beautiful…” he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back to bring your eyes to his, the pad of his rough thumb tracing over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly before releasing it. “Don’t you think I’d chose some other bitch over you ever fucking again.”

Breath evaporated as he dropped down to his knees in front of you without warning, directing you to lay back, your head resting on a stack of clean towels.

The cool tile of the floor made your back arch and your body shudder as Mattheo loomed over you, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over your thighs as he hovered mere inches above your skin. Each touch was soft, almost reverent, as though he was worshipping every inch of your body. As he leant down to kiss you, his lips were tender yet demanding, his tongue sweeping over yours in a fierce, fiery embrace. You groaned into his mouth, your hands finding his hair and gripping tightly, until he broke the kiss and began to move lower.

His eyes travelled down your neck, reaching your chest where your breasts rose and fell with each exasperated, eager breath. His mouth descended upon one of them, suckling and teasing with skillful precision, making your head dizzy with burning need. It was as though he was worshipping at a sacred alter, paying homage to the very essence of your womanhood, his nails digging into your skin, chaining you to him with more restraint than any bloody shackles ever could.

His tongue traced spirals around your nipple, sending little shocks of electricity straight through to your core, and you mewled, back arching into him and grip tightening in his hair, silently begging for more. As expected, Mattheo delivered, lavishing attention on each peak in turn, flicking his tongue, sucking, and teasing until you were practically crying for release.

"Matty...please…" you whispered as his lips moved lower, tracing a path of heat toward your sex. "There's no time...someone could come in..."

"Eager girl..." Mattheo hummed, smirking against your skin. "Told you you'd love the way I fuck you."

Unable to suppress it, you smirked at his normal arrogance as he pulled back slowly, your eyes following his every move as he freed himself; letting loose that delicious, familiar groan from deep in his throat as he pumped his shaft a few times, his gaze darting over your body, desperate and writhing beneath him--each meticulous movement he made causing an insatiable tingle within your core.

"Mhm," you murmured, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as your hands grazed over his strong biceps, feeling the muscle tense and contract beneath your touch. "That's what I love...the way you fuck me..."

Mattheo blinked, meeting your eyes, a wicked smile creeping across his lips as he processed what you'd just said. The underlying message in your words went unspoken despite their intentions hanging heavy in the air, and without a word, he slid his free hand down between your legs, shifting your panties to the side before he gently teased and swirled over your clit, making you moan out his name without even realizing it.

"My filthy little girl..." the anticipation was almost unbearable, you were fucking dripping for him and he'd hardly even touched you. "Always so fucking eager for me…”

Inching forward, he aligned himself with your core, leaning down over you, a strong arm taking purchase beside your head, caging you beneath him. As he pushed inside you, the stretch was unlike anything you'd ever fucking felt--the lack of foreplay resulting in a sensation unlike anything else, a perfect blend of agony and ecstasy, as if he was stretching you open and shaping you just for him.

You whimpered softly, doing your best to muffle your noises as Mattheo pushed deeper and deeper, pausing for a moment once he'd fully seated himself inside your heat, giving you a second to adjust to his thick, throbbing length--his eyes never once left yours, his gaze drilling into you as he assessed your reactions, only breaking the eye contact to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"So fucking tight...fuck-you feel so fucking good..." Mattheo growled lowly, his voice thick with lust--your walls clenching and relaxing around him simultaneously. "Such a good girl, Raven...feel yourself adjust for me, baby."

His voice had a hypnotic effect on you, calming your racing heart and making you focus solely on the feelings coursing through your body. The pain was gone, a mere figment of your imagination as you revelled in the closeness of your bodies, his hot skin on yours, breathing eachother in, your mind reeling with the thoughts of this being the last time--something you'd both said many times before.

But for some reason, this time felt different. This time felt real.

"Fuck me, Matty..." you whispered, nails digging into his back as if trying to anchor yourself to this moment, to him. "Fuck me like you're going to lose me."

"Fuck...am I, Raven?" Mattheo groaned in response, meeting your eyes with an intensity that took your breath away, slowly beginning to increase his pace to your desires. "Am I going to fucking lose you?"

Mattheo's thrusts became harder and more aggressive as his movements grew more frenzied, his mind getting lost in the haze of lust swirling between you. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours filled the room, matching the sound of his heavy breathing, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through the air.

"N-no, Matty..." you choked, feeling the pleasure building within you like a storm waiting to break. It was almost too much, and you found tears on the verge of exploding from your fucking eyes. "You couldn't...even if you tried..."

"Fuck...I know..." he hissed, the words forced through gritted teeth as he met your eyes, your nails certainly splitting the skin on his back, shredding it raw. "I always know exactly how you feel when I'm deep inside you like this...those eyes don't fucking lie..."

You gasped, the words unable to form as Mattheo pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that deep place inside your body that made you cry out in toe-curling pleasure. His face was twisted into an intense frown, growling in concentration as he fucked you harder, faster, hitting places you didn't know possible.

"You love this cock, don't you?" Mattheo growled, knowing full well the answer. "You're so fucking wet for me."

"Oh...yes, I do-" you squealed, burying your reddened face back into the crook of his shoulder, pleasure ricocheting through every ounce of your body as his fingers slid down your stomach, quickly teasing over your clit. "Fuck-Matty...oh..."

"You want to cum for me, pretty girl?" he growled, nibbling at your earlobe as he shifted his position, drilling deeper into you. "Let me feel you..."

"I-I want..." the words wouldn't form. Nothing would articulate inside your brain. Yes, you wanted release, but that's not what you were trying to say here. You wanted him, you wanted this, you wanted all of it, never to end. But as he swirled your clit with rough, aggressive strokes, your brain was mush, succumbing to nothing but his touch. "I-I want you...in...I-"

"I'm in you, Raven..." a grunt when he slammed into you--his voice tight, strained, almost pained, lips pressed against your temple. "I'm so fucking deep in you..."

Another shift, and he was striking your cervix with every thrust--and the pain was enough to pop the balloon in your chest. Tears streamed down your cheeks, the pending heartache and insecurity finally breaking through the dam of emotions you had kept bottled up for months. The weight of it all was too much, overwhelming you in a tidal wave of despair. Mattheo's movements remained unyielding, his pace unfaltering, but he was swift to kiss away your tears, his own breath hitched in anticipation of the climax that was about to consume both of you.

"Oh-fuck...Matty..." only a few more thrusts, and you were there, teetering right on the edge of coming undone. “Oh…”

He growled. “Cum for me angel…fuck-“

"Yes-yes, fuck..." you keened, dragged through your climax without question, euphoria tearing through you as your walls pulsed and milked his cock.

He groaned, gripping you tighter as he poured himself into you, hips bucking until the only sensation left was sweaty, heaving, post-orgasmic rapture. And despite that, you held each other, unwilling to move, unwilling to let the other person leave the safety of the embrace.

It was a long moment--long after your breathing had returned to normal, long after you'd both dripped sweat onto each other's skin--before he moved, rolling off of you, gaze roaming your figure. You wiped your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, not daring to make eye contact with him as the two of you slowly began to redress, an awkward silence filling the air.

After both of you had regained modesty, Mattheo’s eyes locked onto yours, his unspoken emotions echoing in the intensity of his gaze. Without uttering a single word, he pulled you into him, his arms enveloping your body, holding you with a grip that felt as if he never wanted to let go, suffocating your lungs in the best way possible. As his hand moved to cup the back of your head, his fingers intertwining into your hair, you felt his throat bobbing against your temple as he swallowed, his vulnerability laid bare in the gentle caress of his touch.

“That girl,” his voice was a low murmur, as though he feared shattering the fragile moment, “she asked me to the masquerade this weekend…I said no.”

You chewed your cheek, your fingers clinging onto his shirt with force, your voice trembling as you responded, “You should go...it might be good to redirect the attention off of us…your friends seem suspicious.”

“Oh, they are…” he chuckled, his hand absentmindedly petting your hair, his touch comforting and reassuring. “But I told Nott to ask you, and only Nott, so if any of the others approach you about it, let me know.”

Your cheeks burned at the revelation, his laughter vibrating through your body, your heart skipping a beat in response. “You told Nott to ask me to the masquerade? Why?”

“He’s the only one I trust not to be a fucking pig,” he replied, his tone flat and honest. “Pretty sure Zabini or Malfoy would try to get you under them before the night even started.”

You huffed, a smirk playing on your lips as you pressed against his chest. Taking a moment to revel in his scent, his cologne, his body heat.

“Is this really it for us, Mattheo?” you murmured, your voice laced with a hint of desperation. “I mean…am I just supposed to be your friend, now? Your mentor? Your tutor?”

“Maybe we just take a break, hm?” he suggested, his voice dropping, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “Maybe just until the suspicion dies off…until we both have had some time to cool down.”

“I…okay,” you said, your eyelids fluttering as he released you, the weight of the situation sinking in. “I can work with that.”

The acceptance in your voice was laden with bittersweet resignation, a temporary reprieve in the face of an uncertain future.

————————

Chapter 24->

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dearieshima · 1 month ago

Text

MOONLIT DREAM

✦ SUMMARY

╰┈➤ Based on Zayne's Moonlit Dream card, but expanded. Zayne and you are transported back to the Qing Dynasty by a jade pendant infused with protocore energy after it activates unexpectedly in Zayne's car. Reunited after being separated, you both set out to recover the pendant and return home, leading you to a skilled but strict jade craftsman.

"I pride myself on my thoroughness," he added, his voice now a deep, sensual rumble. "I promise I won't miss a single detail."

✦ C.W

╰┈➤ AFAB!reader, a little nibbling, some boob worship (f. receiving), teasing, switch!zayne, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, a little roleplay with Zayne's status, praises, 4000+ words, idk public sex maybe, established relationship

As the sun began its slow descent, casting warm hues across the sky, Zayne decided to skip class, inviting you to a secluded picnic on the hillside, just beyond the city's edge. The air was fragrant with the scent of wildflowers, and time seemed to stretch lazily, each moment steeped in tranquility. You both lingered there, speaking in hushed tones as the world around you softened, the village fading into the distance like a dream.

The day gently gave way to the cold of dusk and Zayne’s modest home, nestled within his shifu’s Siheyuan, beckoned you back with warmth. The evening sky, now awash in the twilight’s embrace, slowly surrendered to the rising moon. Its soft, pale glow spilled across the landscape, transforming everything into silvered stillness.

After sharing a quiet dinner, you wandered together to the riverbank, where Zayne’s work table stood. Scattered across its weathered surface were fragments of jade and a small carving knife. Your gaze drifted to a jade pendant, rutty yet holding a quiet charm.

The pendant was rough and dulled in its crevices as you traced the intricate patterns with your fingers. Curiosity tugged at you, “Zayne, can I try?”

Half-expecting a gentle refusal, to your surprise, Zayne stepped aside, offering you the knife. “Go ahead then.”

Settling into his lap, you tried to mimic his movements from earlier, the jade cool beneath your fingers. Your hands fumbled awkwardly and it made you look like you were sharpening the knife sgainast the rock, when Zayne’s warm fingers enveloped yours, steadying them.

"Here, you need to use a little more force," he murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Try again.”

As you grew more confident, he quietly let go, allowing you to work on your own. Minutes drifted by in the soft silence of the riverbank, where the boats occasionally knocked together, their gentle echoes lulling the air. You’d long since abandoned the pendant, drawn instead to the lake, dipping your feet into its cool waters as you gazed at the rising moon through its reflection.

“Do you think there's a moon as beautiful as this watching over Linkon right now?” you mused, your voice soft as the night, turning to look at Zayne.

His head was supported on his hand, eyes once cradling hazel nebulas, now sealed in peaceful slumber. He was propped facing you, as though he had watched you until sleep claimed him.

With a mischievous smile, you scooted near him and reached for the ink brush on his table and lightly trailed its tip down the bare skin of his chest, revealed by his loosely draped robe. His breath hitched, a shiver coursing through him at the gentle stroke. It was only when the brush dipped toward his stomach that he stirred, his hand catching yours in a swift yet lazy motion, his eyes fluttering open with a smile that matched the moon’s glow.

"Someone gets distracted easily between carving jade and admiring the moon," he teased, drawing you into his lap.

You laughed, wriggling in his hold, but Zayne wouldn’t let you go. In a playful tumble, you both fell together, with Zayne landing gently on top of you. His weight was warm, grounding, and for a moment, you simply stared into each other’s eyes, the world around you fading. Almost caught in a trance, you let go of the brush that was hanging from your hand over the patio, feeling the tiny splash kiss your fingers.

With a subtle motion, his fingers intertwined with your newly-found free hand, warm and steady, sending a shiver down your spine. You wrapped your legs around Zayne's waist, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His breath quickened, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "During this period," he murmured, his voice teasingly casual, "the only practice in protection was abstinence."

"Really?" you purred, your voice low and sultry.

He shifted his weight, his body pressing firmly against yours, the heat between you discernible. His fingers traced a delicate path down your arm, forcing your sleeves to ball downwards. "Yes," he murmured. “Abstinence was considered the only effective birth control and prevention for sexually transmitted infections.”

"Interesting," you breathed, your eyes lowering to meet his desire flickering in their depths. "And why is Dr. Zayne enlightening me on this?"

"Consider it an added benefit of my profession,” Zayne said, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. His fingers continued to trace your skin, each touch igniting a fire within you. "As a doctor, I should make sure my patients are well-versed in the dangers of reckless sex,”

His fingers trailed back upwards to the pulse on your wrist. “And as a gentleman, I'm being cautious. But—"

His gaze darkened, a smoldering desire burning in his eyes.

"As a man, I'm testing the limits of my own restraint," he murmured.

"...Your shifu won't be too thrilled if you fail to hand over the finished pendant tomorrow."

"Then perhaps,” he murmured, his voice lowering to a sensuous tone before lifting off of you, “As a craftsman, I should direct my focus on finishing that pendant."

You pouted, your lips forming a perfect pucker as you reached out and grabbed him by the scruff of his neckline. The fabric of his shirt bunched up in your fingers as you pulled him closer, your eyes locked on his. With a sudden burst of passion, you pressed your lips against his, the softness of your mouth contrasting with the firmness of your grip.

Zayne's breath hitched in surprise at your boldness, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing into your embrace. He returned your kiss with equal fervor, his lips parting slightly as they moved against yours. His hands found your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as he pulled you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothing, igniting a fire within you.

His tongue darted out, tracing the contours of your lower lip with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, sending a tingle down your spine. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours, silently asking for permission to deepen the connection.

Parting your lips, you welcomed his tongue into your mouth. A low groan rumbled in his chest as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly. The slight sting only fueled his growing arousal. Zayne's lips parted against yours as his tongue explored your mouth. He groaned softly as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he was afraid you might transform into water the next moment and slip through his hands.

As you both broke out of the kiss, gasping for air, you couldn't help but use your first gasp to call out Zayne's name.

The sound sent a jolt of electricity coursing through him, his arms encircling you tighter, almost involuntarily. You felt his nose press against the dip of where your shoulders and neck connect and giggled as his harsh exhales tickled you. His lips trail a hot path along your jawline, like hot wildfires spreading across it. When he reaches your neck, he nips at the sensitive skin, his voice a deep, husky murmur. "You're making this difficult," he confesses, his breath hot against your skin.

"Then should I make it easy?" You murmured as you hooked your finger over the open neckline of your robe. The anticipation was visible, and you knew that Zayne was watching your every move.

Slowly, you began to pull the fabric down, revealing the center of your chest where your breasts parted. The cool air against your newly exposed skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp.

Zayne's eyes darkened with desire as he watched the fabric slide over your skin. His throat constricted, the dryness making it difficult to swallow, and he had to force his Adam's apple to bob, trying to regain control of his body's reaction.

His gaze, now heavy with hunger, lingered on the newly exposed flesh, as if tracing the landscape of your body, feeling himself get lost in the soft, inviting curves of your breasts, parted like two lush mountains on opposite sides of a valley. The peaks, hardened from the cold, were a delicate shade of rose, as if a secret garden of roses bloomed at their tips. Each breath you took sent shivers through your body, causing the peaks to quiver, as if tiny earthquakes were tearing through these mountains.

Zayne's mind drifted, imagining the weight of your breasts in his hands, the softness of your skin against his calloused fingertips. His imagination painted vivid pictures, each more explicit than the last, until he could almost feel your nipples hardening further under his touch.

Slowly, Zayne reached out, his fingers trembling with anticipation as they brushed against your skin, sending shivers through you. He cupped one breast, feeling the softness envelop his hand, and then the other, savoring the contrast between the warmth of your body. Your arms lingered above your head, curling into fists as you allowed him to do whatever he pleased with your body.

Zayne's heart raced as his fingers explored the curves of your breasts, tracing the delicate lines and contours that made your body uniquely yours. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a stark contrast to the coolness of his own. As he gently squeezed, he marveled at the way your flesh yielded to his touch, soft and pliant beneath his fingertips.

"You're beautiful." He squeezed them in his hands once more before lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth.

He sucked gently, the soft pull of his lips causing you to arch your back and moan softly. Zayne switched to the other nipple, repeating the tender ministrations, reveling in your responsiveness. He trailed kisses down to the center of your chest, turning his head slightly to nip at the swell of the breast.

"Your pulse has picked up," he murmured, his voice low and gruff.

The deep timbre of his voice resonated within you, making your heart race even faster. "I would be nervous if it didn’t," you said, your voice coming out breathier than you intended. "Yours did too."

“I wonder why that could be," he said, his voice laced with mock innocence.

"You're the heart doctor, you tell me why."

A slow smile spread across Zayne's face at your choice of words. "’Heart doctor’?" he drawled. "Yes, as a heart doctor, it could be because we're sitting so close together," he murmured, his voice dripping with innuendo. "Or it could be that I'm thinking about how you look right now, underneath me."

He shifted closer still, his body pressing against you more than before. "It's hard to say," he added softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Without a thorough evaluation, of course.”

"Evaluation?" you whispered, maintaining a playful tone. "That sounds scary."

Zayne's warm breath tickled your neck as he smiled. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "It's nothing you haven't gone through before."

His hand on your hip slowly gilded upwards, finally fully parting the two sides of the silky robe that had been hiding your curves. The cool air caressed your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb shifted lower, rubbing against the soft, sensitive skin of your abdomen, inching ever closer to the bundle of nerves below.

"I pride myself on my thoroughness," he added, his voice now a deep, sensual rumble. "I promise I won't miss a single detail."

Zayne noticed the subtle change in your breathing, and the way your eyes darted away from his. A soft, dark chuckle escaped his throat. "You're getting shy now," he teased, his hand slowly making its way down your body.

His strong, calloused fingers gently gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense, smoldering gaze. His dark eyes bore into yours, demanding your full attention. "No hiding," he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Look at me while I touch you."

His command was both thrilling and intimidating. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to. Your heart raced as he slowly, deliberately, pushed one long finger inside you. The sudden intimate invasion made you gasp and arch your back. He watched your every reaction, drinking in the way your body responded to his touch.

"That's it," he encouraged, his finger sliding deeper, stroking along your inner walls. He added a second finger, pumping them slowly, teasingly. His thumb found your sensitive clit, circling it maddeningly.

You were panting now, your hips rocking instinctively against his hand. Pleasure built inside you with each thrust of his fingers, each brush of his thumb.

He added his third finger to your tight space, the forefinger. He quickly put it to work, pushing it deeper and curling it just so to hit that perfect spot within you that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

You whimpered, your thighs trembling with the effort of keeping them spread wide for him. The obscene squelch of his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping cunt filled the room, mingling with your needy moans. "Keep looking at me," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. You looked back into his eyes, swirling with lust.

Zayne held your gaze, his eyes intense and unwavering. "Good," he murmured, his movements slow, methodical, almost torturous.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. "Are you still with me?" he murmured, a hint of a tease in his voice.

"Yes," you groaned, your voice thick with desire. You weren't sure if it was an abrupt groan or a response to his question, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the feeling of his hands on your body, igniting a fire within you.

Zayne lifted an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I fear I might’ve lost the patient. I think I should check her vitals," he whispered, his voice low and rough. His free hand found its way trailing up your body with deliberate slowness.

He pressed his palm firmly against your chest, feeling the rapid, fluttering beat of your heart beneath his touch. "Mmm, listen to that," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Your heart is racing, thundering against my hand. It's like a wild animal, desperate to break free."

Your skin was hot to the touch, flushed with arousal and need. He could feel the heat radiating off you in waves, could see the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. "You're so responsive," he breathed, marveling at the way your body reacted to even the slightest touch. "Every inch of you is alive, quivering, aching for more,"

As if to prove his point, your legs suddenly clamped down around his hand, your muscles tensing and quivering as you teetered on the brink of release

"All signs of a healthy woman.”

He could feel your body trembling, your muscles tensing as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy. With a final, gentle touch, he sent you over the edge. Your body arched, back bowing as the pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave. A groan escaped your lips, his name falling from them like a prayer as you surrendered to the intense sensations. He held you close, his strong arms supporting you as your body shook with the force of your climax.

He slowly withdrew his fingers, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You're in perfect health," he said, amusement lacing his tone.

You huffed, breathless, your chest heaving as Zayne's lips trailed searing kisses along the column of your throat.

Zayne chuckled at your huff, his touch growing gentler as he traced patterns on the skin of your hip. He lifted you up, moving to sit with his back against the siheyuan walls, his legs stretched out before him.

You gasped softly as your fingers brushed against the prominent bulge straining against Zayne's jeans. "You're hard," you breathed, a delicious shiver running down your spine at the realization of how much he wanted you.

A deep, rumbling chuckle vibrated through Zayne's chest at your words, unnatural to his vocabulary. "I know," he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "You can blame that on you."

His teeth caught your earlobe, tugging gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. Your head fell back, granting him better access as your pulse raced beneath his lips.

"I can help," you offered breathlessly, even as you knew Zayne was notoriously strict about safe sex. His hips rolled forward, grinding his hard length against your core, and you couldn't help but moan. "Please, Zayne... I want you.”

Zayne chuckled again, his hands squeezing your hips ever so slightly. "You're getting bold," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression a mix of amusement and desire.

"I can take a Plan B when we return to Linkon," you said with a playful pout.

Zayne's jaw grew taut, his grip tight on your hips. He was clearly struggling with the temptation you were offering. "We shouldn't," he said, a hoarse whisper against your neck.

But his body betrayed him, his hands roaming further up your body, trailing up and down your back. He was clearly very tempted.

You straightened and kissed him, luring him in. Zayne groaned, his resolve slipping as you kissed him. His hands came up to cup your face, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your features. He hesitated for a few more seconds, his eyes locked with yours, before he finally caved.

Zayne groaned as you sat in his lap, his hands gripping onto your hips. The sudden heat and friction sent a jolt through him, he swallowed another groan, his breathing becoming shallow.

He kissed a trail down your jaw, his teeth grazing against your skin as he reached your neck. His body grew taut, every part of him screaming for contact.

His robe hanged loosely around his shoulders and with a slow, deliberate motion, he let the silky fabric slide off his body, revealing his muscular form inch by tantalizing inch. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, his eyes burning with a desire so intense it could ignite a wildfire.

As the robe pooled around his waist, you couldn't help but let your gaze wander over his perfectly sculpted body, taking in every detail. The way his abs rippled with each breath, the defined lines of his pectorals, and the powerful thighs that could easily pin you down in a heartbeat.

With a gentle touch, you reached out to help him remove the last remnants of his clothing, your fingers brushing against his warm skin. Zayne's hands found their way to your thighs, sliding up.

His hands, slick with your arousal, reveled in the warmth of your skin beneath them. His gaze traveled over your exposed body, taking in every curve and dip, his eyes darkening with each passing second.

Without hesitation, you reached for his thick, pulsing cock, guiding it to your entrance. You felt the tip brush against your slick folds, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you entered him. Zayne's breath caught in his throat, a low, guttural groan escaping as you claimed him. His fingers dug into your hips, trying to maintain control, but the pleasure was too overwhelming, and he failed.

Your eyes met his, both of you lost in the haze of lust and desire. Zayne's pupils were blown wide, his breathing coming out in ragged gasps. The room was filled with the wet slap of your bodies connecting, and the guttural moans that escaped both of your lips.

You began to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm. Zayne's feet were firmly planted on the patio so he could thrust his hips forward to meet yours, his thick length stretching you in the most delicious way. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, building and building and building until you thought you might combust from the sheer intensity of it all.

Zayne's hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of your skin as if memorizing it. His lips found your neck once more, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, a breathy moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your pulse point.

The open night was filled with the sounds of your lovemaking, the slick sound of your bodies connecting, and the symphony of moans and gasps that spilled from your lips. It was primal, raw, and utterly intoxicating.

Zayne's movements became more erratic, his thrusts harder and deeper as he chased his release. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within him, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. His hands gripped your hips even tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you closer, burying himself deeper inside you.

"Hah,"

You could feel your own release approaching again, the pleasure building with each passing second. Your body tensed, your muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap.

As Zayne's body shuddered with the force of his release, his hot seed spilling deep inside you, you felt your own climax crash over you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, your walls clenching around him as a wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. You cried out his name, your voice raw and primal, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

Zayne held you closer, his arms wrapped around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding against your chest. You could feel the warmth of his shin, slick with sweat, pressed against yours.

The man's breath came in ragged gasps, his broad chest heaving with each shuddering inhale. You'd never seen him like this before - usually so composed and in control, but now he trembled against you, his powerful body wracked with the aftershocks of intense pleasure. His hair was mussed, dark strands falling across and sticking to his forehead in tousled waves.

He kept his face buried in the crook of your neck, his fuzzy jawline, from the days he spent here, scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin. His eyes were pinched shut, long lashes fanning out against his cheeks as he tried to regain his bearings.

"I'll... I'll accompany you to the pharmacy store," he managed to get out between labored breaths, his deep voice slightly hoarse.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers unconsciously scratching and massaging the back of his head. Your own body still hummed with residual pleasure, your mind floating pleasantly in the clouds. "Okay," you whispered, a small smile playing on your lips.

Swallowing thickly, you gathered your courage and uttered the three words that had been on the tip of your tongue. "I love you."

The man's eyes fluttered open at your declaration, his dark gaze meeting yours with an intensity that took your breath away. A slow, tender smile spread across his handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before reluctantly pulling back to look at you fully.

His hands came up to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks with a reverence that made your heart swell. "You're incredible, you know that?" he said softly, his eyes roaming over your features as if memorizing every detail. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side."

The jade pendant rests quietly in its box.

The old craftsman lifts it, his weathered hands gentle yet precise. His brow furrows, and for the first time, you catch a flicker of unease in Zayne's eyes, a vulnerability that rarely escapes him.

“Hmmm…” the craftsman murmurs, turning the pendant between his fingers. “The edges… a little rough. The details, perhaps, not as fine as they could be.”

Yet, even in his critique, a softness lingers in his gaze, a glimmer of admiration woven into his stern words. He pauses, studying the pendant as if searching for the heart of its creation. “Did you remember what I told you? To steady your hand… clear your mind… as you carved this?”

You glance at Zayne, and in that brief exchange, a shared warmth passes between you, but neither of you can hold the moment for long. Your eyes drop, averting away from each other in sudden shyness.

The old jade craftsman, wiser than you both, sighs, the weight of years in his voice. “Ah, nevermind. Take it back. I cannot keep it… for it was shaped from love, and that cannot be sold.”

#love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lnds zayne #lnds #zayne love and deepspace #zayne smut #lnds smut #love and deepspace smut #zayne headcanons #love and deepspace headcanons #─𝕳𝖎𝖒𝖇𝖔𝖘.✦#─𝖌𝖆𝖘𝖕!.✦

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cera-writes · 7 months ago

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Can you write a gambit fic please. Like I need it to be the most heartbreaking angst you can think of that leads to the most tender of sex scenes please? Like kiss hugs tears tender sex???? Please 😊😗 thank you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

"Come back to me."

pairing: Reader x Remy LeBeau "Gambit" tags: nsfw, angst, tender sex, kissing, sweet aftercare Prompt: Reader feels dejected and heartbroken after Gambit gets sent on mission that could very well end up killing him. Reader begs him not to go, but Remy knows he has to. Reader runs off to get some space but Remy ends up going after them, leading up to some serious confessions and sweet make up sex.

Thank you @littlekidsteve for requesting this! This one's for you!

"Wait! Mon ami, please!" Remy was reaching for you but you had ran passed him, dashing out into the pouring wet rain.

"How could you think this wouldn't hurt me?" You cried, letting the rain mix with the tears streaming down your face. You took one last look at the man that you loved endlessly, unrelentlessly even, before wiping furiously at the tears pouring down your cheeks. This had hurt you. It made your chest ache with sorrow and anger. You were pissed with him.

You felt as if your world had come crashing down. The rain couldn't have been more morose, mixing with your own tears, drowning you in sadness. A flash of lightning sparked in the distance, causing a deep roar of thunder, colliding with the heavy footsteps you left trailing far behind you.

You didn't care where your feet took you, only that you needed space and you needed to get far, far away. Xavier's Institute was becoming farther and farther from view the more you ran. You felt like your throat was constricting. It was as if you couldn't breathe. The very air in your lungs felt heavier with each breath and sob that escaped your lips as you left Remy standing alone in the courtyard of the mansion.

Of course you knew he'd have to be put in situations like this, but you were just a human with no special powers. He wasn't. But dammit if you didn't love him any less. That's what made this so unbelievably more painful. You never cared about the whispers or stares on the streets from ignorant people who disapproved of humans getting involved with mutants. Remy was your person. But this felt like an act of betrayal on his part.

You could make out the scenery before you just a bit through hazy eyes. The lake lay just before you in the clearing, rain droplets pattering down violently on the water's surface. Any other day, you and Remy would've come out here to get some alone time with each other but today wasn't just any other day.

You dropped to your knees on one of the huge rocks overlooking the lake. You proceeded to let out every emotion you'd bottled up into your hands and knees as you swayed back and forth, sheets of water encasing your clothes and soaking you to the bone. You were a mess of a human being right now, feeling as if the world was crashing down on you and in a way it was.

You let out an ear piercing scream over the lake, echoing through the onslaught of pouring precipitation. In the midst of your breakdown, you almost didn't hear the sound of footsteps violently rushing towards you against the wet ground in your direction.

You didn't have time to react before a pair of warm arms had engulfed you, pulling you into that familiar scent you'd come to know and love. You knew it as the scent of comfort that could only be Remy's.

"Dammit chere! Don't run off like that ever again!" Remy pleaded half angily, pressing so tightly against you that you could hear the erratic beating of his heart.

"I ran like hell to get to you," he uttered tearfully. "I-I can't leave things like this with you, mi amor."

You pushed him away, scornfully gazing into his eyes. "But you are! You're leaving first thing in the morning for some stupid mission that I may never see you return from again!"

He looked away, bitterly cursing himself for making you feel like this.

"You know Gambit ain't got no choice, chere. Have a little more faith in me, s'il te plaît..." he begged, desperately trying to get you to see reason.

"Remy, you don't know what it's like! I can't go with you on these fucking missions! I can't protect you. I'm powerless! I'm useless and I can't do a damn thing about it!"

Your eyes were red and swollen from crying so much. This wasn't just any mission. This wasn't some 'stop a burglar from stealing a purse' or 'rescuing some lady's cat from a tree' kind of mission they were going on.

No.

Gambit and the rest of the X-men were being sent to take down an army of sentinels from barging into the city and killing every mutant in sight. This had been planned for weeks ever since Cyclops caught wind of it happening. You knew what those giant robots were capable of and it terrified you.

"But what if you don't come back? what if the only way I have of finding out that you died would be on the news, Remy?! I just can't live with that! I can't!" you shook, sobbing as your face fell downcast, burying your hands in your face again. You hated crying in front of him, although this was probably the first time he'd ever witnessed you having a panic attack like this.

"Gambit won't go down without a fight, darlin'. They could cut me, bruise me, or even skin me alive but they'll never take you from me. You'll always have a spot right here mon ami." He gently took your hand in his and placed it over his own pounding heart.

"You are what keeps this ol' heart o' mine beatin'. I promise for as long as I breathe chere, I'll live for you, breathe for you. You can bet on that," he caressed your cheek with his other hand, moving some of your hair that had matted to your face. His words were honest, truthful. There was not a single hint of a doubt to his sincerity in those words.

You placed a hand over his, more tears blending in with the rain that kept steadily falling against your skin.

"You are beautiful, mon ange..." his lips found yours, kissing you with such carefulness and tenderness that you didn't know just how badly you craved with such ferocity in that moment.

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The rain had caused the rock to be slippery, sending Remy down on top of you but it never broke the kiss between you both.

You whimpered into the kiss, not wanting to him part from you because if he did it felt as if you'd lose him forever and right now you just couldn't handle that revelation. No, not yet.

His hands caressed the damp skin under your wet white tee shirt. He pressed his fingertips hard against your flesh, surely leaving indentations but you didn't mind. He needed to feel you and make you feel alright and safe in that moment with him.

His lips trailed to your jaw, then the soft skin of your neck, before trailing sweet kisses against your heated skin. His stubble tickled your skin pleasantly as you bit gently down on your bottom lip, letting your eyes close and revelling in this moment with him. Oh gods, how were you going to send him off tomorrow?

Your arms were still bound tightly around his neck, hands kneading into his long wet hair and tugging gently, eliciting a small moan of pleasure from Remy. You knew he loved the feeling of your hands on him.

He stopped kissing you only for a moment to look you directly into your eyes. He needed you to hear these words.

"Let me have you right here, chere. I don't care that it's rainin' cats and dogs on us. I want to feel you and I know you want the same."

He didn't have to say another word before you pulled him into you again, bringing your lips to his in affirmation. You were both panting by the time you pulled away. He sat you both up for a moment, allowing himself to pull that sorry excuse of a shirt over your head in such neediness. You nipples had already been peeking through your soaked shirt, showing through the thin white cotton.

This did something to him in a feral way, but he knew he needed to hold back for your sake or he'd never be able to leave.

He hadn't been wearing a shirt when he'd found you. You were both clad in only your shorts now and Remy had the urge to pull yours off immediately.

He started leaving hot kisses up your thighs as lips dragged up your wet skin, taking his time with you. You moaned, needing him like never before.

"Mind if I take these off?" Remy looked up with a half lidded gaze.

You shook your head, urging him on. You lay bare beneath him, letting him massage your breasts, softly and tenderly as he kissed you like his life depended on it. You hadn't even noticed that he'd discarded the rest of his clothes while he was letting your tongues caress each other, just allowing the two of you to feel each other.

The rain was coming down much heavier now. Somehow, that only made the two of you cling closer to another.

"May I?" he asked permission huskily in your ear.

"Please," you shuddered.

He entered you slowly, easily. You let a soft moan escape your mouth before he muffled it with another precious kiss.

"Even hell couldn't keep me from coming back to you, mon ami. You're my everythin'." He whispered sweetly between thrusts. This wasn't hardcore sex where he'd usually have you screaming his name for the entire school to hear. He wanted this to last. He needed it to last for both your sakes.

"I need you to know somethin' chere."

He moaned, feeling your walls clenching around him as you enclosed your legs around his waist. You found yourself drowning in him now. Instead of drowning in your sorrows, you were drowning in his love for you. That real, sincere love that only movies were made of. You'd be damned if anything ever took this man away from you.

"I love you," you both said in unison. He laughed in disbelief before grinning into another sweet graze of your lips against his.

You could swear you saw his eyes brimming with tears as he made love to you. His thrusts picked up pace just a bit as your mouths were still lovingly attached. He was getting close and he could tell you were too just with how your body was reacting to his.

His eyebrows furrowed, panting as he felt intense pleasure closing in on him. You always felt amazing but for some reason you felt especially good around him right now. It was probably the onslaught of emotions that came pouring out of both of you moments before, but it made the situation ever so much sweeter.

"Come back to me Remy," you pleaded, eyes locked on his as he opened his eyes to lock with yours. You searched his eyes and he gave you nothing but the utmost sincerity back in them. Those beautiful unusual eyes of his were all it took to have you coming undone.

He was getting close by the way his hand gripped your waist, thrusting one last time as own sexual relief flooded through him.

Your legs squeezed even tighter around him, feeling him release intensely inside of you with a low groan.

The rain had started to let up until finally ceasing altogether as the two of you sat side by side by the lake.

"Care for a swim cherie?"

Remy held out a hand, leading you into the lake, the full moon just rising above the horizon encasing the hot evening in glittering stars. Not bothering to get dressed, you figured a skinny dip couldn't hurt seeing as the both of you wanted as much time together as possible.

"No amount of stars in the sky could measure up to your beauty," he held you from behind as moonlight cast a glow over the both of you.

You couldn't help but smile back at him before wrapping your arms over his as you kissed him passionately.

"I meant what I said. I love you Remy LeBeau."

"And I you, mon ami. I promise I'll come back to you. That's a promise and Gambit always makes good on his promises."

#gambit x reader #xmen #xmen97 #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau

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faguscarolinensis · 4 months ago

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Aquilegia coerulea / Colorado Blue Columbine on the Echo Lake Trail on Mount Blue Sky in Evergreen, CO

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rabbitcruiser · 1 year ago

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Five hundred Mormons left Iowa City for the Mormon Trail on June 9, 1856.

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ottpopfic · 4 months ago

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I like to think about Camp Half Blood and how its probably full of old hidden kid structures

It's an ancient sacred valley, that has trained and housed children for thousands of years, many of those kids coming from artisan backgrounds and gods. Kids build things, kids make forts and rope swings and tree houses. Kids need hidy holes and pretend play boxes and secrets.

I like to think about walking in the CHB woods, off the trail in a place you think dryads have only ever been to. And then you come to this tree with wooden planks nailed to it. You look up into this old oak and above you is a few more boards, just enough to make good seating hidden in the branches. There are initials carved in the bark, no one you recognize, and doodles on the boards. You don't know who built it or when, was it put up last year or fifty years ago, but someone dragged 2x4s miles and miles through the trees and made a place just for them. Your reminded that this place has always been here, that so many half-bloods have come and gone, but all throughout the valley there are still echoes of them

‘I was here’ says the little jerry-rigged bridge over the creek, ‘I mattered’ says the rope swing into the lake, ‘Even if I'm forgotten’ says the crumbling fort in the woods, ‘I left something behind’ says the initials in the tree

#notes #talk #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #camp half blood #chb #hoo #demigods

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 22 days ago

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The Villain’s Protector (Part 2) - Highway Tune

Summary: The reader and Soldier Boy are on the road attempting to figure out their next move when they run into a group of people covered in red streaks. As the reluctant pair comes to terms with what's happening in the world, they'll have to learn to work together if they want to try and survive...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 3,800ish

Warnings: language, violence, life-threatening situations, death (minor characters), mentions of past torture

A/N: Who wants to go on a fun road trip with Solider Boy? Any takers?....

________

You drove for over an hour, winding up on the outskirts of Albany before Soldier Boy was finally stirring awake again. He jerked up suddenly, looking all around before inhaling deeply.

“Where are we?” he grumbled, releasing your hand with a pout. He glanced out the dark window, little light to be seen. “Must be the fucking boonies.”

“We just cut around Albany. We’ll stop in Saratoga and grab gas, figure out our next move,” you said, Ben narrowing his eyes. “What?”

“What’s with the accidents?” He turned in his seat, glancing at the cars gathered in a ditch on the side of the road. You checked your mirror as you drove around yet another pile up, a small group of people suddenly appearing before you. You hit the breaks, Soldier Boy grunting when he slammed against his seatbelt. “Fucking drive much? What…”

He trailed off as he got a good look at what you’d seen a few times already on your drive. People with red streaks scattered across their skin, their faces angry, eyes vacant.

“How far are we from the city?” he asked, clenching his fists.

“Two and a half hours give or take,” you said. The group took slow steps forward, sizing you up and down. “They could be hurt.”

“Who cares? That is not blood and you know it,” he said, grabbing your wrist. Hard. You glared at him, Ben giving it back. “You are not helping them and you aren’t going anywhere without me.”

“Then let go of me so I can drive-” Glass shattered in the backseat, a hand grabbing your throat from behind. It squeezed hard, cutting off your air. A swarm of people, close to a hundred, were gathering around the car. A loud snap rattled through the dark night stillness, the people around you recoiling. You coughed violently as the hand around your neck ripped away, Ben screaming at you.

Your vision was swimming as he reached one long leg over the console and slammed his foot down on the gas. The car lurched forward, people in the road scattering. It jerked to the left when Ben grabbed the wheel, turning you sharply to avoid them.

“I got it,” you croaked out, pushing him away. One hand gripped the worn leather, the other held your neck. Ben pulled his leg away, tugging your shirt collar down.

“You’ll live,” he said, your eye catching something red on his palm. He gasped, the red streaks crawling up to his face. Instinctually you grasped his wrist, the red streaks traveling back down his arm and up yours. It burned, painfully, stopping your breath and making you cry out.

It hurt but you held on until there was no trace on his hand. Shakily you released him, violent shivers, echos of pain staying with you.

“Stop the car.” You hit the brakes now that the coast was clear, at least for a good thousand feet. He threw it in park and ran around the car, dragging your shaking form out of the drivers seat and lifting you unceremoniously into the passenger one. Three seconds later you were speeding along again, Ben shaking his head. “Where’s the fucking speedometer?”

“It’s the giant number in the middle of the screen. Newer cars don’t always have the old kind anymore,” you grit out, curling into a ball, eyes pressed tight together. He was silent, your pained breaths the only noise as he drove quickly past the Saratoga exit. “Where are you going? You need to go-”

“We’re going to Lake Placid.” It wasn’t a discussion and you were in too much agony to argue. Your finger jabbed at the window button, the cool night air hitting your face helping distract from the sharp twinges of shock jolting through your veins.

“What’s in Lake Placid?” you croaked out, rubbing your neck. He shifted in his seat when you peeled open an eye.

“A place to lay low. It’s probably not a good idea to be around people right now.” He reached his hand over, brushing yours away front he bruised column of your throat. “You’re fine.”

You rolled your eyes, the aches slowly dulling, your chest starting to loosen up. He tapped the wheel, clenching his jaw. Why was he so annoyed with you? It wasn’t as if you’d already saved his life three times tonight or anything.

“We need to get off the highway,” he said. Before you could say a word, he was driving over the rumble strip on the shoulder and onto the grass.

“What the hell are you doing?” you grit out, Ben driving right through some corn field and across a yard, hitting a quiet street. He checked the rearview mirror, your own gaze going to the side one. He turned off the lights just as in the far, far distance, three vehicles drove down the highway, well over a hundred miles an hour. “What the fuck is that?”

“Those fuckers from before. Must not be happy we didn’t turn into whatever the hell they are.” You swallowed thickly, holding up your hands, the last streaks of red finally disappearing along with the pain in your guts.

“We should try and head west-”

“We’re not getting on the fucking thruway. If it’s not swarmed with pileups then it’s chock full of those…things. Last time I touched one, I nearly died and you didn’t do much better so no fucking way.” He drove again, only the dim daytime driving lights guiding your path. You sat upright, closing your window before fiddling with the radio.

No music played, only a long loud beep you recognized from the emergency broadcast testing the government would do. Ben shared a look with you, his fists squeezing the wheel when the beeping ended.

This is an emergency broadcast for the eastern seaboard. Remain indoors. Do not attempt to travel at this time. Do not interact with any persons with red streaks on their skin. Seek shelter immediately and barricade yourself indoors. Loss of life is imminent if you go outside.

The long beep returned, the message playing over again before you changed the station, getting more of the same. Ben stabbed the power button, his broad chest rising and falling quickly.

“We have bigger problems then your vendetta against Reaper.” He was right. Reaper needed to wait, possibly forever. If the whole eastern part of country had been hit with this…

“How long will it take to get there?” you whispered. He frowned. “Can we make it by dawn?”

“Should be able to. I’m more concerned about running out of gas,” he said.

“I have an idea.”

“This is so fucking dumb,” growled Ben twenty minutes later, jogging right along your side as you snuck up behind a Stewart’s Shop. You’d parked the car on the opposite side of the treeline and made your way through the small batch of pines before settling up against the exposed cinderblock.

“Be grateful this happened in the middle of the night and no one was at fucking Home Depot,” you whispered, holding up your two empty gas cans. Ben sighed, four more clutched in his hands.

“Okay but why do we have to do this now?” You poked around the back corner, only a single car in the parking lot you assumed belong to the person working inside.

“Because I don’t want to have fucking stop again,” you said, urging him to follow. He stuck to your back like glue, kneeling down behind a garbage can at a pump while you stuck your card in the machine.

“Are you fucking paying for this shit?” he snapped.

“How the fuck else are we supposed to get it out? You want to go talk to the cashier be my guest,” you shot back, grabbing the nozzle and shoving it in one of the canisters. “Just top them all off.”

You went to take another canister to the next pump but Ben grabbed your arm, yanking you down to the ground. A subtle threat passed between you, his hand slowly releasing you.

“You don’t leave me my motherfucking side. Ever.” You narrowed your eyes, grabbing his crotch and squeezing the ever loving shit out of his package. His eye twitched, watching you lean in close.

“Grab me like that again and I’ll leave your ass for dead. A supe that doesn’t know how this world works? Those things will kill you in less than a day.” You slowly release him, raising your chin. “You need to start trusting me.”

“Why the fuck should I?” You rested your hand over his, a quiet breath slipping between your lips.

“You’re a misogynistic asshole that doesn’t give two shits about other people.” Ben glared, his face twisting in anger. “Soldier Boy, yeah he’s a sack of shit. But Ben? I haven’t written him off yet and you shouldn’t either.”

“Whatever.” He let you go, grumbling to himself. “Fucking hurry.”

Less than ten minutes later you had topped off the car and had the gas stored away in the back when a door slammed nearby. Soldier Boy’s ear perked up, his head whipping around to face a man with red streaks come out of a nearby house.

“How the hell did he turn if he was inside,” mumbled Ben as the man pointed a shotgun at the two of you.

“Obviously that blast was more powerful than we realized,” you whispered, the man coming a stop when Ben stepped in front of you.

“Walk away unless you want to wind up dead,” said Ben. You poked your head around him, the man smiling darkly, the red streaks pulsing under his skin. You jumped when he shot straight at Ben’s head. It didn’t seem to do any damage but Ben’s hands shot up instinctively to wipe the soot away from his eyes.

“No!” You rushed in front of him, the stranger’s hands touching your face instead of Ben’s. Your heart raced, faster than it had any right to go, every inch of skin burning like coals were dousing your body.

“Join us,” the stranger whispered, sliding his hand down to your throat. Suddenly, he was flying backwards, Ben kicking him all the way against the side of a tree. The stranger seemed unnerved as you fell but Ben was on top of him, using the fallen shotgun like a baseball bat.

“She don’t like to be touched, pal.” Ben brought the shotgun down hard on his skull, cracking it open. You would have been disturbed if you weren’t in the fetal position struggling to get air into your lungs.

Ben wore a smirk when he looked over his shoulder, face falling when he saw you shaking on the ground.

“What’s wrong?” He lifted you, setting you down in the backseat, the whites of eyes showing in the darkness. “Streaks. You’re-”

“Knock me out. Please,” you breathed, staring up at him. “Please.”

A large arm wrapped around your neck, pulling you back against a solid chest, your head thumping at the lack of oxygen. You barely heard him as you clung to the last few seconds of consciousness.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me yet.”

The air was cold when you stirred awake. You were being cradled, eyes fluttering open, met with thousands of tiny green stars etched into the fabric of Soldier Boy’s suit. With some effort, your eyes moved upwards, Ben carrying you bridal style. Leaves crunched under his boots, his chest warm against your cool skin.

“Why aren’t we in the car?” you mumbled. He was quiet a beat, footsteps hitting wood as you rose upwards. The sound of water lapping made your head turn, trying to find the source but it was too dark and his arms were too comfortable to move much.

“You want to stay in the car go for it but I’m crashing in my bed.” A door opened and you winced as a room flooded with light. It brought some life back to you though, eyes rapidly blinking and taking in the camping lodge you stood in. It was strangely clean smelling and while the furniture was out of date, it was spacious.

“This is your house.” He dropped your backpack on the ground, walking you past an open expanse of windows down a hallway. With a thud, you were dropped on a mattress, Soldier Boy’s face unreadable. When you attempted to sit up, he put a hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to lay.

“Sleep.” You frowned as he left, his large frame pausing in the open doorway. “I said sleep, Y/N.”

He yanked the door closed after himself, his loud boots quieting, the light under the door going out after a moment.

You tore off your boots with a sigh, attempting to get some rest but your body had decided it’d had enough downtime while you were out cold. After a solid hour of tossing and turning, you got out of bed and left the room. There was wood accents all throughout the hallway and high exposed beams running overhead. The light oak floors were warm under foot and you realized he’d turned on some sort of heating system somewhere in the home. Apart from the small hallway where you assumed the bed and bathrooms were, it was one large room. A kitchen, dining table and nice sitting area with a river rock fireplace that went to the ceiling.

“Wow,” you whispered to yourself. You slipped out the back door and onto a deck overlooking Lake Placid, the sun rising over the mountainous hills in the distance and scattering pink and orange swirls in the sky.

“I thought I told you to sleep,” grumbled Ben. You jumped, his arms catching you. He sighed as you noticed he was out of his uniform. Instead, he wore a white tee and dark green flannel with levi’s and no belt low on his hips.

“I couldn’t. Why aren’t you-”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” he snapped. His harshness shouldn’t have surprised you. You knew who he was. But he’d seemed…gentle almost when he’d brought you here. It was all part of his charm, though. A man like him would never change.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Back inside, you went into the kitchen, finding a pair of mugs, both Solider Boy themed, setting them on the counter. The sliding door shut with a thump, Ben bumping past you, practically shoving you out of the way.

“I was-” He grabbed your biceps, lifting you onto your tip toes. Dark green eyes bore through you, his body trembling with holding back his true strength. His head leaned in close, hot breath fanning over your chilly cheeks.

“Why won’t you fucking rest?” Ben growled. He shook you once, tears welling in your eyes. “You’re right. I don’t give a fuck about you. But if you’re dead, so am I. So fucking rest because god knows when we’ll have to move again. Understand?”

Your throat tightened, pressure from your injury and the sharp pang in your chest forcing out a shaky breath. Ben narrowed his eyes, shaking you again. “Bitch, I said do you understand?”

Your heart was racing, skin prickling like it had when you’d touched those red streaks before. But no, this was different. A familiar different. You needed to leave, you needed to get away.

Soldier’s face softened only slightly, his gaze drifting to your chest. “What the…”

He dropped you, giving you a chance to run outside. Barefoot and with your breaths getting fewer and farther between, you barely made it to a birch tree on the edge of the yard before collapsing against it.

Breathe in for four, breathe in for four. You shakily forced yourself to hold the cool morning air in your lungs before letting it out slowly. Fingertips dug into your own arms, head between your knees as you breathed over and over, the tension finally releasing.

“What are you doing?” You jumped back against the tree, squeezing your eyes shut when Soldier Boy stood in front of you.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. This had been a mistake. Breaking him out had been a monumental one. He was just like Reaper. As soon as you had the chance, you needed to take the car and run.

“I’m afraid of you, you know.” You shot your eyes open, fears falling away for the briefest of moments. Ben took a seat on the grass nearby, looking out at the foggy lake. “Everyone else in my life I can fuck things up with but you? I’m screwed without you. So I can’t fuck it up and that seems to be all I’m capable of doing.”

“You can’t grab me like that or tell me what to do,” you whispered. He didn’t turn back to acknowledge you. “It’s wrong.”

“I used to come here when I was a boy.” He tore up a fat blade of dewy grass, ripping it apart into tiny pieces with his hands. “I learned to swim in that lake. I used to love it here.”

Using your jacket sleeve, you wiped off your face, watching his shoulders slump.

“Ever wish you could be a kid again, when the world was simple?” You rested your chin on your knees, wrapping your arms around them. He glanced back at you, watching you shake your head. “Someone like you doesn’t need me to kill Reaper. It’d be easier for sure but you seem like a smart woman. So why the fuck would you break me out?”

He stood, approaching you cautiously, coming into a squat nearby. He looked…normal, in those clothes, like a guy on a weekend camping trip. The lake caught your attention, his face turning to a frown the longer you sat in silence.

“You have powers that can knock a supes out, or kill them.” You finally flickered your eyes to meet his, his lips parting in understanding. “I’m not a supe but I was hoping if we couldn’t find Reaper…but now you won’t because you need me to stay alive to keep you alive.”

Ben sat on his bottom, scooting backwards to sit by your side. You gnawed the inside of your cheek, his hand resting on top of your head.

“How about we kill Reaper’s ass instead?” You looked up at him, Ben raking a finger behind your ear. “Why on earth would I kill the woman that protects me? I’m a motherfucker, not an idiot.”

“But-” He pressed a finger to your lips. He shook his head, sliding his finger down, grasping your chin lightly.

“I don’t know what happened but I will not let him near you again. Understand?” You nodded, Ben cracking a smile. “Oh, so you do know how to answer that question.”

“You’re such a dick,” you whispered, Ben smirking as a small one crossed your face. “I meant it, Ben. You can’t grab me like that.”

“Even when you’re being stupid? Or annoying?”

“Even then.” He rolled his eyes. “Why do you do that? Grab at me.”

He dropped his hands away, clenching his jaw. “Benjamin. I need to know it’ll never happen again.”

“It won’t.” Part of you wanted to argue but he was turning away from you, whatever momentary peace between you turning icy.

“I’m sorry but that’s not good enough.” His hand rested on your thigh before you could even move. No pressure in it, nothing to keep you in place. But you stilled, his shoulders rising and falling, back to you.

“You might have been passed out on the way here but you wouldn’t stop screaming in your sleep. There’s not way you’re okay so you saying you are just…” He shook his head. “I don’t even know why I care.”

“Maybe because I cared about you first?” Carefully, you rested your hand on top of his. It was much warmer than anticipated, Ben glancing at it briefly.

“You wanted to use me as a weapon or to take you out so Reaper can’t get his hands on you again. Don’t pretend to give a shit, Y/N.” He yanked his hand away, letting yours fall.

A bird cawed in the distance, a pair of them taking flight over the water. He rose, walking across the grass, arms crossed.

“I know what they did to you in Russia.” His whole body froze. Slowly, you got up, feeling the ache in your bones from the lingering effects of those…things. The muscles under his shirt bulged, his body surely tensing up. “Do I want you to kill Reaper for me? Of course I do. But that’s not why I broke you out.”

You started back for the cabin, pausing for a beat, a cool breeze tickling your face. You glanced over your shoulder, the rising sun casting over his body and creating a long shadow behind him.

“A lot of the world turned on you. They thought you were scum, a traitor.” You sighed, heading up the small hill. “Don’t lump me in with them.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” You could feel his gaze, his angry heat, just waiting to give himself a reason to hate you. Well, screw that.

“Underneath all that rage and bravado, you’re just like me. A scared kid that’s tired of being alone, tired of being hurt and you have no idea what to do when someone tries to protect you because it’s never happened before. You’ve paid for your mistakes. You don’t deserve a never ending life of pain and torture. No one understands that like I do, Ben.” You glared back at him, his gaze softening. “Maybe I just wanted to help you because no one helped me. Is that so damn hard to believe?”

You stormed up the hill, slamming the back door shut behind you. You’d barely made it to the hallway when you heard it open again.

“Ben, I’m not in the-” Your heart jumped into your throat when two men with red glowing streaks were standing in the kitchen, sharing a look that made your skin crawl. “H-Hi.”

“You seem worried,” said one, lifting his chin, both of them stepping forward. “Why don’t you come over here and you won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

A floorboard creaked behind you, a woman with red streaks at the end of the hall and boxing you in. One of the men frowned, the other pulling a garden shears from his back pocket.

“Hard way it is, sweetheart.”

__________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys fanfic #soldier boy au #the boys au #apocalypse au #soldier boy fanfic #reader insert

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we-are-maladaptive · 6 months ago

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summer afternoon!

....

The sun is high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lake in front of your house. Sitting comfortably in your relaxing chair, you watch your four children splash and play in the cool, clear water. The warm summer breeze rustles the leaves of the trees, adding to the ambiance of the afternoon.

"Katsuma, don't go too far!" you call out to your 10-year-old son, who is testing the limits of his swim area. The boy is quite the brat but respectful of you. He moves toward the shallow area, however, not without an eye roll reaching to the back of his head.

Fumiko, your 9-year-old daughter, is quietly collecting smooth stones along the water's edge. "Look! I found a perfect skipping stone!" she says, her eyes shining with excitement.

"That's great, Fumiko," you reply, smiling at your daughter.

Meanwhile, the twin boys, Isamu and Akio, are up to their usual antics. "We caught a fish!" Isamu shouts, holding up a small, wriggling creature. Isamu then decides the best way to use the poor fish is to slap it directly onto poor Akio's face… leaving him all slimy.

"Let it go, Isamu!" you instruct, "…and STOP hitting your brother, or I will take you back inside with your father."

"Aw, Mom," Isamu whines. "I just wanted to show you."

Luckily, Akio is not too fazed, resorting to sticking out his tongue at his brother and washing his face with the lake water.

The boy reluctantly releases the fish back into the water, immediately grabbing his brother and diving back in to search for more adventures. Their laughter and shouts echo across the lake, a testament to their boundless energy and mischief.

Suddenly, Katsuma and Fumiko join forces, trying to construct a small raft out of driftwood and leaves. "Do you think this will float?" Katsuma asks, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Only one way to find out," Fumiko replies with a grin.

The twins, not to be outdone, begin building a sandcastle on the shore, their competitive spirits driving them to create the tallest, most elaborate structure possible.

After a while, you call out, "How about some smoothies? Your father should almost be done with them."

"Yeah!" All four children rush out of the lake, water trailing behind them as they run toward the house. Trailing behind them, you chuckle softly, enjoying the simple yet joyful chaos of a summer day.

That joy dies down slightly as you view their muddy feet running straight onto your precious marble floors.

Sigh.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow at the stampede of drenched children running into his kitchen. He then furrows both of his brows at the dark foot marks staining his floors.

"WHAT did I tell you 'bout running in this house with dirty feet?" He glares at his eldest, "We have pavement for a damn reason, so why the hell are you still runnin' in the grass for, hm?"

"Oh! Well… uhm…"

"That's what I thought. Since this is the third time, you're helping your ma' clean it up."

"BUT DA-"

"Nope. Now eat y'r damn smoothie before I eat it for you."

As the children eagerly grab their favorite flavors, Fumiko turns to you and her father. "Thanks, Ma n' Pa. This is the best summer ever."

You smile, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the summer sun. "I'm glad you're all having fun. Now go back and enjoy the lake."

The children need no further encouragement and quickly return to their games. You walk slowly back outside, savoring the moment. Katsuki joins you this time, but instead joins his children in the water and has found contentment in throwing his daughter high into the sky before she falls back into the water with a splash. The rest immediately want to join as well. The sounds of their laughter and the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore fill your heart with peace.

This is what summer is all about: lazy days, playful children, and the simple pleasures of life.

#mha #bnha #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki x you #bakugou x you #bakugo x you

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blueskrugs · 6 months ago

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'tis the damn season | Matthew Tkachuk

today's the unofficial official start to summer, so here's a 4th of July Matty fic I couldn't bear to hold on to for another month. once upon a time, kim @troubatrain wrote another matthew fic by the same title, but i'm fairly confident this is entirely different. as usual, @wyattjohnston was my enabler in writing this.

length: 3.0k words

It’s late when you finally peel yourself off the Adirondack chair you claimed hours ago next to the bonfire, empty seltzer can dangling from your fingertips. The bonfire has died off, barely more than some embers and the occasional spark. Even the fireworks that have been echoing around the lake for days have petered out. It’s just you, Matthew and Taryn left outside, all your other friends having wandered off to find somewhere to sleep—except you think Taryn might have also fallen asleep, wrapped up in one of Matthew’s old Calgary sweatshirts and a beach towel.

Matthew watches you with heavy eyes, watches as you stretch sleepily and the big T-shirt you’d thrown on over your swimsuit rides up over your hips.

“Don’t drive home,” Matthew says, so low you barely hear him.

“What?” you ask. You’re not heading back to the city until after the long weekend is over, and your parents’ lake house is just a couple of miles away.

“Don’t leave, there’s a lot of drunk idiots out still,” he says again, standing too. You and your friends were some of those drunk idiots earlier in the day, but you don’t point that out.

“Dude, I’m fine,” you tell Matthew. You turn to look for your flip-flops. “It’s not far, and I stopped drinking a while ago.”

Matthew grabs you by the hip. The night has cooled off, but Matthew’s hand feels hot on your skin. “I’m not worried about you being stupid, I’m worried about something happening to you,” Matthew says. “Don’t go.”

You didn’t pack enough clothes to spend the night—you’d always been planning on heading back to your parents’ at the end of the night. The house was crowded with friends of Matthew and Taryn.

“There’s nowhere left for me to sleep,” is what you end up saying.

Matthew tightens his grip. You step closer. “Sleep in my bed.”

You’d done it before, but not since before Matthew had moved to Michigan to play for the USNTDP. Not since before your crush on Matthew had shifted from something childish to something more like pining. You stare up at him, his blue eyes serious, clear even in the moonlight.

One of the logs on the dying bonfire pops and shifts, sending out a spray of sparks. You both startle, moment broken. Matthew takes a half-step back from you. You hadn’t realized how far you’d both leaned in. Taryn stirs somewhere behind you.

“Fine,” you say quietly. “I’ll stay.”

Matthew grins at you. You shake your head at him as you finally turn to walk inside.

You think you hear Taryn murmur, “Get a room,” as you pass her.

The lake house is a mess. You survey it with dismay for a moment: there’s people passed out on several different couches, empty cans and bottles scattered across most surfaces, and remnants of dinner still sitting out in the kitchen. You drop your own empty can into the recycling near the door and wander quietly through the first floor, picking up what you can. You haven’t been at it very long when Matthew steps inside as well, gently shutting the door behind him. He clicks his tongue at you when he spots you in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.

“I thought you were going to bed,” he whispers.

“I got distracted,” you whisper back.

Matthew trails his fingertips across your side as he steps past you to open the fridge. You shiver, and not because the AC is turned down low. Matthew pulls two bottles of Gatorade out, offers one to you.

You take it, suddenly surprised at how thirsty you are.

Matthew watches in amusement for a moment as you chug a third of the bottle, before he says, “C’mon, it’s past your bedtime.”

“It’s not that late—” you try to protest, before you catch a glimpse of the time on the microwave clock. Almost 2 AM. “Oops,” you say instead.

Matthew flicks off the kitchen light and heads upstairs.

You make a pit stop in Taryn’s room on your way down the hall to Matthew’s room. The door creaks as you open it, and you wince, squinting at the bed, where three of Taryn’s field hockey teammates are sleeping. No one moves. You steal a pair of shorts to sleep in and sneak back out.

Matthew is waiting for you, again, perched on the edge of his bed. The shower in his ensuite is running, steam filtering through the ajar door. “Shower’s ready for you, if you want,” he says.

There’s a bottle of your face wash and a toothbrush with your initials Sharpied onto the handle underneath his sink, the same way they have been since you were 14. You take a fast shower and try not to think too much about it.

You run into Matthew when you walk out of the bathroom. Literally. You're bumped backwards, into the doorjamb. Matthew doesn’t step away. You’re still wearing one of his T-shirts.

“I was just—I need—” Matthew stutters.

“Matty—” you breathe, before Matthew’s lips crash into yours. He tastes like beer and sunscreen, and you wrap your hands around the back of his neck so you can pull him closer.

Matthew breaks the kiss first, but he doesn’t go far, pressing his forehead to yours. It could have been seconds, or it could have been hours.

“I was just going to brush my teeth,” Matthew whispers.

You make a face instead of kissing Matthew again. His face is still so close to yours.

“Good, you need it,” you whisper back. Matthew rolls his eyes at you, presses a kiss to your forehead before ducking into the bathroom.

You’re sprawled out in the center of Matthew’s bed when he re-emerges, watching the ceiling fan turn lazily above you. You feel drunk, like the room’s spinning, too, but you think that might just be proximity to Matthew. You should have just found a couch or a corner of floor to sleep on.

“No way,” Matthew says, standing at the foot of the bed. “Scoot over.”

You think about pushing it, just to see if Matthew would push back, but you scoot over. Matthew flops onto the bed next to you in the space you just left, then rolls on top of you, anyway, braced with his hands next to your head.

You take a second to just look at him. You’ve been sneaking glances all day, over the rim of a seltzer can, from underneath your sunglasses, across the boat. It had felt illicit then, but now Matthew is right in front of you, blue eyes meeting yours. His curls are getting long, messy from being in and out of the lake water all day. He’s always tan now—living in Florida all winter does that—but he’s sunburned across his nose and across the tops of shoulders. You lift one hand and skim a finger down his nose, across his jaw.

“I miss you,” you blurt. It’s not what you had meant to say, but now that you’ve said it, you’re not sure what else there is to say.

Matthew laughs softly. “I’m right here, babe,” he says.

He’s here now, but it won’t be long until summer’s over, and he’ll be gone again. Back to the real world. You don’t know the last time you and Matthew were able to spend time together like this, don’t know if you’ll ever get this time again. It’s always been one thing after another—injuries, or vacations, or work. You don't talk the way you used to, either. Matthew's schedule clashes with yours so often that neither of you have time for hours-long phone calls anymore.

Matthew drops to an elbow and brushes your hair out of your face. You try not to sigh. His hand is on your knee next, by his ribs with your feet flat on the bed. You don’t stop him as his hand starts to slide up your thigh, closer to the hem of his T-shirt, riding up your hips again.

Matthew drags a line of kisses down your neck. You can’t stop your sigh this time. Matthew comes up for air, tucks another strand of hair behind your ear. It’s humid outside and in Matthew’s bed; you can’t breathe, gasp for air. His hand is back on your hip, burning hot on your skin.

He asks, “Yeah?”

You can feel his breath on your cheek. He’s panting, too, and it’s nice to know that he’s as wrapped up in this as you are, at least for this moment. That he might want you almost as bad as you want him. That he’s wanted you as long as you’ve wanted him.

You don’t trust yourself to get any words out, just nod.

“Think you can stay quiet?” Matthew says, before sealing his lips on yours again.

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You wake up late the next morning, the ghost of Matthew’s fingers still on your skin. He’s in bed, too, tangled in the sheets, head turned away from you. Distantly, you hear the sounds of the rest of the house stirring, your friends laughing, coffee brewing. You don’t make any move to get up.

You’re still laying there later—15 minutes, 30 minutes, you’re not sure—when Matthew starts to stir. He rolls over quickly, almost panicked, but he relaxes and smiles when he sees you still lying next to him.

“Hi,” he says dumbly. He fumbles for his phone, but it’s not beside him. “What time is it?” His words and eyes are still heavy with sleep.

You don't know either; you must have left your phone downstairs last night;. You shrug and stretch. Matthew watches you closely, the way your body moves beneath the sheets. You feel your cheeks flush.

“Dunno,” you say. Closer to noon than early morning, if you had to guess by the way the light is slanting through the partially closed blinds. “Late,” you add.

Matthew grins at you and props himself up on one elbow. You have to resist the urge to reach up and tug on his curls, even messier now from your hands and sleep.

“Then I don’t think anyone will miss us if we stay in bed a little longer,” he says, leaning over to kiss you.

You indulge him and his morning breath for a few moments. Wrapped up in your own little bubble, twisted together in Matthew’s sheets, you can pretend just a little longer—that this is real, that it won’t disappear the second you step through that doorway and back into a world where other people and other obligations exist. But then your stomach rumbles and shatters your illusion.

You push Matthew away by the shoulders—gently, though part of you wants to be harsh with him, hurt him the way you know he’s going to break your heart. Matthew goes easily, but you see the flash of furrowed brow before he smooths his expression back into something easygoing.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” you say, “but I need something to eat.”

Matthew raises his eyebrows at you. “I’ve got an idea of what I want to eat,” he leers.

You knee him in the chest in retaliation.

“Oof,” Matthew complains, but he’s laughing.

He rolls off of you, rubbing his chest and pouting at you. You just roll your eyes and slide out of bed. You hunt the floor for the shorts you’d been wearing when you went to bed, trying to ignore the way you can feel Matthew staring at your ass. Your shorts ended up across the room, by the bathroom door. When you turn around again, Matthew is pulling on a shirt. There’s a hickey on his collarbone that you hazily remember leaving there. He sees you looking as his bare skin disappears and smirks at you before throwing another clean shirt of his at your face.

You grab the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, but say, “Turn around.”

Matthew gapes at you. “It’s nothing I didn’t see last night,” he tells you.

It feels different in the daylight, though. You stare Matthew down until he heaves a sigh and turns his back.

You poke Matthew in the ribs when you’ve finished changing. It didn’t go unnoticed by you that Matthew gave you a shirt with his number stamped on the left shoulder to wear. Matthew reaches to take your hand as you start down the stairs, but you pull away and run ahead of him.

This isn’t like that.

“Oh, you’re both alive,” Taryn calls when she sees you. “We were thinking about sending someone up to check on you.”

You and Matthew exchange a look. You don’t miss Taryn smirking from her spot on the couch.

“Where is everybody?” Matthew says, instead of saying anything to give Taryn any more ammunition. The house has quieted down. There’s still a few of Taryn’s teammates lounging around, but it looks like more of Matthew’s friends have cleared out.

“Weather’s shitty, people started leaving after breakfast,” she says.

Outside the windows that overlook the lake, there’s fog clinging to the water. It looks chilly out, and you shiver. You tell yourself it’s because of the cold, and not because Matthew is standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat. He nudges your elbow, and he’s holding a cup of coffee out to you, already the perfect color for you to drink it. You shoot him a grateful smile as you take it; your fingers brush, and you try not to jerk your hand away.

“Nobody even said good-bye,” Matthew gripes.

You laugh, but it’s Taryn who says: “Maybe because you’re a shit host.”

Matthew gasps in outrage and throws a discarded can koozie at her. It falls weakly to the floor halfway to the couch, and all of you burst out laughing. You and Matthew move easily around each other in the kitchen, piecing together leftovers and assembling your breakfasts. It sends a pang through your chest, the familiarity of it, even as the years and distance build a canyon between your relationship. You don’t know when Matthew went from being your best friend, to the boy you dreamed of marrying one day, to the guy you knew so well yet barely knew at all.

You feel like you can’t breathe.

“That’s disgusting,” you say, watching Matthew take a bite out of a cold bratwurst straight from the fridge.

Matthew shrugs. “What?” he says with his mouth full. “It’s a sausage, people eat sausage for breakfast all the time!”

“But not—oh, fuck you, never mind,” you say.

You escape the kitchen, slipping through the back door to the porch. The bonfire from last night has long since burned out entirely, but you drop into one of the chairs beside it anyway, where you eat your breakfast undisturbed. When your plate is cleared, you wander down to the dock.

The late morning sun has finally started to burn away the fog, but the air is still cool. You sit down on the edge of the dock and let your feet dangle in the water. It’s quiet, especially for the day after the holiday; the weather has scared people indoors. You shiver again. You only have a few minutes of peace before you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know that they belong to Matthew.

He drops down onto the dock behind you, drapes his legs off the edge on either side of yours. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you let yourself lean back into his chest. Neither of you speak.

You’d been here once before, sitting on this dock with Matthew. You were younger then. Matthew had just been drafted, and you were heading off to college. You’d both been on the verge of something big, and you thought maybe it had been your chance to do big things, together. You wonder if Matthew is thinking of that night, too, of the silence in the darkness of midnight, when you’d both slipped away.

Matthew presses his lips to your shoulder, where the collar of your shirt—his shirt—has slid down and exposes your bare skin.

“Would you wait for me?” you asked, 18 years old and so, so scared of losing everything you had ever known. Desperately trying to hold onto Matthew.

“Would you?” he asked back. “Would you still be ready for me in another few years?” You both knew you couldn’t even imagine following Matthew to Calgary until you had graduated, unwilling to sacrifice your own future for a possible one with Matthew.

You had waited. You had been waiting for Matthew for even longer than you were willing to admit. Even when you were in other relationships, you felt like you were just waiting for something else. For someone else. You wondered now what your life would look like if you had said yes to Matthew on the dark dock all those summers ago, if you’d waited for each other. You couldn’t wait any longer.

“You could stay for a few more days,” Matthew says.

“You know I can’t,” you say. You reach back so you can run your hand through his hair. One last time. “Think we could do this again sometime?” Matthew asks. “You know we can’t,” you say. Matthew sighs. You can feel the tension in his body. He’s ready for a fight, but you don’t know if you have the energy for it. You lean more of your weight against him, and he holds you up, strong and steady.

Matthew takes a moment before he responds. “We could,” he argues. “We could do this forever.” Your heart hurts. You know he doesn't mean it.

“Matthew,” you say, quietly. “Matthew, please.” “Why not?” he asks. “We’re good together, aren’t we?”

You are, and you wish you didn’t know just how good it could be between you. In your head, you see all the things you could have, all the things you should have done. It’s so, so tempting.

“I think we both know why we didn’t try ‘us’ when we were 18, Matty,” you tell him. The petty arguments, the way you were both so stubborn that hanging out ended in slamming doors just as often as it didn't. You always came back, but you don't know if you can do it much longer.

You move to leave, and Matthew slides back to allow it. You let him offer you a hand as you stand up. Matthew squeezes your hand once, quickly, just before you let go. You leave him sitting on the dock. You don’t look back as you make your way back up to the house.

Some things are best left in the past.

#cait writes things #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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