#Major Salt Warning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reiding-writing · 11 months ago

Note

since you are a person of angst, i was thinking about spencer x reader where in the heat of an argument, spencer says he will only forgive her when she dies.

so in one of the cases the reader is shot by spencer and sighs "now you can finally forgive me"

happy or sad ending, whatever you want

muah 💘

forgiven — s.reid

Summary:

You lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. After weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR IAN DOYLE ARC, harsh arguments, death wishes, gun mentions, major character injury, details of gun related injury, happy ending

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 3.7k || masterlist!!

a/n: left the ending up to majority vote and majority vote said happy ending, you guys are so boring /j

happy ending or not this is still nice and jam packed with angst for all my angst enjoyers <3

Emily Prentiss had been buried for seven months.

So how on earth was she stood five feet away from Spencer with a half guilty expression on her face like she’d put salt in his coffee rather than the fact that she’d been in Paris, fully alive and well whilst he mourned her ‘death’ for months.

But he couldn’t be mad at her. Of course he couldn’t.

Instead his gaze turned towards the way Hotch, JJ, and you were stood at the head of the table, completely unfazed whilst the rest of the team stood in shock at the fact that the friend that they’d buried was still alive.

He couldn’t help that small feeling of loathing mixing with the shock when Emily pulled him into a hug, his arms loosely rested around her back as his eyes narrowed slightly in your direction.

He’d let you see him at his absolute worst, an emotional, crying, pathetic mess of a person who was desperately mourning over the loss of one of his closest friends.

And you’d let him. Whilst knowing that Emily was still alive.

His emotional state had gotten so bad over the last few months that you’d even temporarily moved him in with you to make sure he wasn’t endangering himself.

He’d spiralled into a state where he couldn’t be trusted to live on his own. And you’d let him.

He didn’t speak to you during your drive home that night, and you knew why.

You knew he was going to be angry at you, and you couldn’t blame him for it.

What you didn’t expect, was for him to immediately start unrooting himself from your apartment; Clearing out drawers and stuffing his clothes in the suitcase hidden in one of the cupboards.

“Spencer what are you doing-” You barely manage to step out of the way before Spencer walked right into you with an armful of books in his hands as he pulled them from the bookshelf in your living room.

He stacks them neatly in the corner of the open case laid on top of his bed as you stand in the doorway of your guest room turned Spencer’s bedroom, clear concern written all over your face.

“I’m going home.” Spencer’s reply is blunt, flat, with the tiniest amount of hurt lacing his tone if you were to listen closely enough.

“Spence-” You block his exit from the room with your body as he attempts to make a second trip to clear your shelves of his books. “Can we just take a second to talk about this?”

“About what? The fact that you lied to me for seven months?” He takes a step back from you as you block the doorway, looking you directly in the eyes to make sure that you could read every semblance of hurt, loathing, and betrayal that swam in his irises.

“The fact that I trusted you to the point where I let you see me at my lowest and you knew everything I was grieving over was a lie?” Spencer had given up trying to leave the room, clearing out anything left in the bedroom instead and zipping the suitcase shut.

“The fact that you let me spiral to the point where I was considering relapsing and couldn’t be trusted to live on my own?”

“Spencer-”

“I confided in you. I told you everything. All those nights I spent sobbing in your arms talking about how I just wanted the pain to stop and you left me in the dark.” He was borderline shouting at you by now, his eyes glassed over with tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks and a lump in his throat that rended his composure shattered.

“I wish I could’ve told you Spencer but I couldn’t-”

“You couldn’t?” Spencer cuts you off before you have the time to try and explain yourself. “Or you wouldn’t?”

“I couldn’t- Spence I wanted to tell you I really did but Emily’s life was in danger-” You try to explain yourself whilst he’s giving you the time to do so, words falling out of your mouth as fast as your brain will let them form. “I couldn’t say anything without risking breaking her cover and sending her right back into Doyle’s grasp..”

“What about my life?” Spencer’s voice cracked slightly as he looked at you, a light flush covering his face from his frustration. “I spent ten weeks under 24/7 supervision because my mental state was so bad-”

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t have said anything. And you let me ruin my own mental state anyway.” The end of his negation of your explanation is marked by the suitcases wheels hitting the wooden flooring.

“Look i’m sorry okay? I didn’t-”

“What? didn’t mean to let it go so far? Didn’t mean to let me consider relapsing and washing any progress i’d made over the last four years down the drain?” He pushes past you with considerable force to make his way towards the front door of your apartment with his suitcase in hand. “Well it’s too late for that isn’t it?”

“Spencer wait-” You grasp at his wrist in a moment of desperation, silently begging for him not to leave. “I’m sorry,”

“I’m so, so sorry and you have every right to be angry at me and I know that keeping it from you was wrong-” Your desperation shows through your voice, through the stray tear that rolls down your left cheek and pools under your chin. “Just- let’s talk about this, please,”

“We just did.” Spencer’s voice is much harsher than you’re used to, although he removes your hand from his wrist with a whisper of his usual gentle nature that you wish would take over the rest of his personality as he pulls your door open to leave.

“I was just trying to protect her-” Your voice hitches at the end of your sentence, stray tears turning into a steady flow that dapples your white shirt in damp circles. “..please forgive me…”

Your voice is hardly a whisper by the time you’re finished, although Spencer’s expression does not match the softness in your tone.

Nor does his response.

“I’ll forgive you when you’re six feet under like she was.”

“Spencer-”

You barely have time to be shocked by his words before the front door of your apartment is closed harshly in your face, Spencer’s presence replaced by the ghost of his cologne and a sharp coldness that runs its way up your spine.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’d been three weeks.

And aside from asking Morgan to keep an eye on him you hadn’t so much as mentioned Spencer once.

It was a little difficult considering his desk was directly opposite yours, but a mix of wanting to respect his personal space and still being hurt by his comment allows you to keep to yourself no matter how close he was.

You’re thankful that the team hasn’t said anything, but you’re sure they’ll only respect your privacy until it interferes with the case you’re working on.

Emily had tried to talk Spencer down from his underlying anger to no avail during the plane ride, and despite the countless times that Hotch had taken full responsibility for keeping Emily’s living status a secret, it didn’t stop Spencer from sending you half-glares across the station or refuting any suggestion you gave with an overcomplicated explanation of why you were wrong.

By the fourth day you were on the verge of snapping at him, the Texas heat melding with his snark and making you want to tear all of your skin from your face.

You definitely weren’t in the right mental state to enter an active shooter situation, but as you followed Morgan into the building with your 9mm planted firmly between your hands, all you could think about is the conversation you were going to force Spencer into having with you once all of this was over.

You were so tired of being in this stalemate with him, you just wanted your Spencer back.

The one who would trap you on your couch so he could explain the Doctor Who lore in explicit detail with that bright starry look in his eyes the longer you let him ramble.

It was just radio silence. And you couldn’t bare it anymore.

Your mind was clouded by your own thoughts as you swept the building, and you suppose you only have yourself to blame for not hearing the unfamiliar footsteps behind you until it’s too late.

You turn on your heels towards the noise, expecting it to be Morgan or even Spencer, finished with sweeping the floor and ready to move on.

Instead you’re met by a sharp bang that rings through your ears and a pain in your throat that makes your breath catch and your legs fail underneath you.

Your left hand comes straight to your throat, immediately coated in the dark red liquid escaping from the new hole created in your body, and you manage to fire a shot in the direction of your assailant as he runs, although whether you actually hit him or not you’re not sure.

It takes less than ten seconds for your team members to arrive at your side, and you desperately point in the direction that the UnSub had ran off in as you try and refrain from coughing up blood and in turn flooding your lungs.

Morgan and Emily share a look before running off in your pointed direction. Spencer however, ignores your arm completely and rushes to kneel at your side, dropping his gun on the floor in the process and frantically holding the radio button on his watch to yell out his need for medical services.

“You’re going to be fine- Everything’s going to be fine-” You can practically feel the panic emanating from his body, his hands trembling as he tugged his bullet proof vest from his chest to tear at the hem of his shirt and use it to block the bullet hole in your throat as your hand compression weakened with your blood loss.

You can tell he was trying to reassure you, but it didn’t sound all that convincing, even to himself.

His right hand added a copious amount of pressure to the front of your throat as he aided you into the recovery position, checking the nape of your neck for an exit wound. Nothing.

A soft “two minutes” echoes back through the radio speaker in his watch and though he tries to mutter it under his breath to not freak you out any further, you can hear his uncertain “that’s too long,” even through the tinnitus plaguing your ears.

You cough up the clotted chunks of oxidised blood stuck in your oesophagus onto the floor beneath you, and Spencer makes an effort to protect your head from the floor by elevating it on his thigh.

“You’re going to be fine-” Spencer sounds more panicked than you as his eyes blink with tears, unable to be wiped as they fall down his cheeks from the red staining against his fingers and the ever present pressure he’s adding to your injury.

“Does this mean you’re going to forgive me now?” You choke out the words alongside what could barely be considered a laugh as it leaves you hacking up more blood through your mouth, your attempt at lightening the mood falling on deaf ears as it sends Spencer into a fit of tears.

“I’m so sorry-” Spencer’s tears run hot against his cheeks, pooling at his chin and falling onto the ripped fabric of his shirt he was using to try and stop your throat from bleeding. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you and barging out and just being awful to you I’m sorry-”

The distinct sounds of sirens sound over Spencer’s profuse apology and you can see the relief flood his face as he hears them. “You hear that? You’re gonna be okay, they’re gonna get you to a hospital and you’re gonna be fine,”

He nodded determinedly at you, more like he’s trying to convince himself than convince you.

He neglected to tell you about the fact that gunshot wounds to the neck held a 78% mortality rate, or how when they obstruct major airways that number jumps to 92%.

It was fine. You would be fine.

He can hear the pounding footsteps of the medical team as they breach the building, yelling out in their direction with as much composure as he can muster.

He helped the medical team carefully position you on a stretcher so they could rush you into the ambulance, and he runs alongside you, giving the EMTs as much information as he can.

“They were shot by a 7.5mm two minutes and forty seconds ago, it breached their trachea but there’s no exit wound so it’s likely lodged in the back of their oesophagus-” Spencer speaks through heaved breaths as his body fights to take in oxygen over his will to help the EMTs treat you as quickly as possible, following them into the back of the ambulance.

“They’ve been conscious the whole time this far but I think they’re going through pulmonary edema and-”

“Spence-” Your voice is barely audible through your struggle to breathe, joined by the pressure on your throat as well as under your diaphragm as one of the EMTs checks for signs of your lungs being flooded. “Don’t backseat doctor-”

The fact that you’re still conscious enough to lightly chastise him makes Spencer feel a little less panicked, although removing a pebble from a mountain doesn’t affect its height.

By the time you reach the hospital, you’re unconscious but not yet critical, and he almost follows you right into the OR until he’s blocked from the door by one of the nurses and escorted into the waiting area.

“Well let you know the second anything changes Dr Reid,”

He nods hastily as he sits down, fiddling with his fingers and tapping his feet against the linoleum floors.

You weren’t critical yet, but that didn’t mean that you’d pull through. You had flooded lungs and a bullet lodged somewhere in the back of your throat that they were going to surgically remove.

If something went wrong, that was it.

Spencer spends the first thirty minutes mentally beating himself up.

Why did he lash out at you? You were only doing what you thought was best to protect Emily.

Why did he say he’d only forgive you if you died? You didn’t mean to cause him any harm.

Why was he constantly managing to ruin anything positive that was happening between the two of you?

Maybe he was cursed.

Cursed to live a life of eternal suffering as the perpetual cost for the gift of his intelligence.

He would give up every IQ point he had if it meant that you would recover with no complications.

He would sacrifice his eidetic memory in an instant if it meant he got to make new ones with you.

He’d give up everything that he was prided on as long as you were okay. You needed to be okay.

The next forty-five minutes was spent in an anxious silence. The team had rushed to the hospital as soon as they’d secured the UnSub’s incarceration, only amplifying the tension in the waiting area.

As the nurse calls out your name to the room, the team immediately stands to rush over, everyone silently praying that you’re okay.

“We’re glad to say that the surgery was a success,”

Those words are enough for the anxiety to dwindle in the group, a wave of relief overtaking it.

“They’ve had to have a temporary tracheotomy, and due to the placement of the bullet lodged between their vertebrae, a spinal excision, but both procedures progressed with no issues, meaning they should recover perfectly fine,”

Morgan and Emily share a audible sigh of relief, overshadowed by Spencer’s voice, less anxious but still filled with adrenaline. “Can I see them?”

“They’re currently under supervised care to make sure they don’t destabilise, but if you leave your mobile number we will contact you when they wake,” The nurse passes Spencer a small post it note and a biro pen from her clip board and he doesn’t hesitate to scribble his name and number down before handing them back.

“They’re strong, most patients don’t remain conscious for more than a minute or two after an injury like that,” The nurse takes the pen and post it from Spencer with a small smile. “I have full faith that they’ll recover perfectly fine,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer extends his stay in Texas indefinitely.

The rest of the team had left for Quantico two days ago to file out all of the necessary paperwork for the case, with Spencer opting to remain in Texas until you were fit to fly home with him.

Home. He wonders if you’ll let him come home with you. To stay with you in your apartment again and live side by side with him once more.

Maybe he can convince you through your recovery; That patients recovering with spinal injuries need 24/7 attention just in case something happens.

Yeah. That sounded like a good idea.

Spencer’s plans for taking you home were interrupted by the shrill ring of his cellphone, the screen lighting up with an unknown number.

His heart rate increases as he picks the phone up from his hotel room’s coffee table, his hands trembling by the time he holds it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“McAllen County Hospital, am I speaking to Doctor Spencer Reid?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer is in his rental car almost before he hangs up the phone, driving the speed limit as he tries to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

He runs what he’s going to say when he sees you over and over again in his head on the way there, but by the time he reaches your hospital room his mind goes completely blank, and he just stands in the door staring at you.

“Hello to you too,” Your voice is very clearly strained and raspy, still recovering from the emergency tracheotomy you’d been given during surgery.

The sound of your voice, as dry and strained as it is, immediately sends Spencer into a fit of tears, and he rushes to take a seat on the plastic chair beside your bed with the most upset, regretful expression you think you’ve ever seen. “I’m so sorry,”

“Spence…” You reach out your hand out from the hospital bed, laying it against his lower thigh and squeezing it lightly.

“I shouldn’t have lashed out at you I know you were doing what’s right and I didn’t mean what I said I don’t want you to die I promise-” He takes in a sharp breath through his nose once he’s finished his ramble, and you wait a few seconds to make sure he’s actually finished before speaking yourself.

“You’re fine Spence…” Your hand trails up to grasp at his own, intertwining your fingers with his and giving them a small squeeze. “You had every right to be angry,”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly at you. “No, i’m sorry. What I said was wrong and you didn’t deserve that,”

Spencer exhales softly through his nose, his voice wavering and his hands trembling against your own. “Can you forgive me..?”

You question whether to make a joke about whether he’s close to dying or not, but opt out of it considering his fragile emotional state.

“How about we both forgive each other and call it even?” You let out a small chuckle at the end of your question, turning into more of a cough as it dries out your throat, and Spencer grabs the glass of water left on your bedside table with his free hand.

He holds it up to let you drink from it rather than unlinking your hands to let you hold the cup yourself, placing the styrofoam back down once you’re finished.

You give him a mildly embarrassed smile that he returns with one of his own, leaning forward to gently rest his forehead against yours.

If you weren’t recovering from a spinal surgery he would’ve had you in a bone crushing hug by now, but holding your hand and leaning his forehead to yours would suffice for now.

“Forgiven?” You allow your eyes to flutter closed at the soft contact, exhaling slowly through your nose.

“Forgiven…”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

2K notes · View notes

lex-the-flex · 5 months ago

Text

Come Back to Me

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning(s): Basically porn with little plot. MEGA FLUFF, MEGA ANGST, MAJOR SADNESS + talks of character death, SMUT – 18+ oral (f! receiving), and precious aftercare + pillow talk.

A/N: No thoughts, just grieving smut with Jace. This CHOKEHOLD this character has on me and we’re only one episode into Season 2. I don’t know if I’ll continue to write for Jace, just wanted to share this idea.

He couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried. The air just refused to enter and fill his lungs as the overwhelming scents of salt and snow continue to remain in his crimson cloak.

You somehow manage to take away all the pain and sadness of grief just by standing beside him. Joining Jacaerys Velaryon on the balcony of your shared room, he just can’t wrap his mind around a calm state amidst the chaos. Briefly touching his shoulder, a long awaited sigh of relief escapes his lips.

“You okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine.” He lies, turning to face you.

Leaning his forehead against your own, the overpowering scent of sea salt and the faint smell of lilies lingers on your skin.

Wrapping his arms around your frame, Jace holds you tight, never wanting to let go. Relishing in your presence, an unwelcome wave of emotions crosses over Jace. Something wild, yet filled with sadness takes over him almost instantly. However, instead of shedding tears, he acts on the other side of what he’s feeling. Jace slowly guides his lips against your earlobe, nipping at the sensitive skin.

“You truly are my guiding light in this world, Y/N. You are the one that I was thinking about when I was riding Bermax home. To have my lips on yours and my thoughts at the door while being lost in you. I want to fuck you until you scream so the whole Palace can hear. To let them know you’re mine.” Jace explains, pulling you closer.

Feeling your breath hitching in the back of your throat, Jace nibbles on your neck, and you surround your arms around his broad shoulders. Picking you up in a swift motion, Jace captures his lips on yours before walking back into the dark room.

Collapsing with the large desk, Jace gently sits you down, his dark brown orbs staring into your own, eager with lust.

“Enlighten me, my Prince. Let me know what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.” You say, gasping as Jace unties the sash of your trousers.

Smirking in delight, Jace carefully undos the straps of your heels, and slides your trousers down your legs. Basking in your body, his once boyish eyes light up with a devilish intent.

“By the Gods… so sweet for me.” He states.

Running a series of hungry kisses along your legs, you uncontrollably shiver at the sensation. Gripping your hips in his fingers, Jace teases yours throbbing folds with his tongue, knowing how to get you numb.

“That’s my girl.” Jace whispers into your skin.

Closing his mouth around your entrance, Jace props your leg around his shoulder. Swirling his tongue past your opening, a ragged moan escapes your lips, and you run your fingers through his dark locks. Feeling your pulse rise in your fingertips, a strong growl emanates from Jace’s chest, allowing his hunger for your lust to break the very windows of the room.

Leaning your head back, multiple multicolored stars fill the darkness behind your closed lids. Briefly moving your hips against the wooden table, a tingling sensation starts to rise in your core, signaling that you’re reaching your end.

“Jace, please. I can’t…” You beg, scrunching Jace’s dark curls in your fingers.

Reaching up to cup your breast, Jace continues to venture deeper inside of you, determined to taste every inch of you. Suddenly, your legs spasm and you quickly reach your end.

“…Jacaerys…!” You gasp, not caring if anyone hears you.

Jace’s grip around your hips loosens and he crawls up your body, cocooning your shaking form in his arms. Burying your face in his neck, the collective scents of Vermax, water lilies, and the vast ocean being a wonderful distraction from the events going on outside your room.

Gazing at Jace, the two of you erupt in a small moment of laughter and delightful smiles that felt long overdue. Running your fingers through Jace’s locks, you bring his chin up to face you.

“I love you, Jace. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” You address, tracing the outline of his strong face.

“And I you.” He vows, covering you with his cloak.

a/n pt. two ~ oml this man.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacareys x y/n #jacareys fic #jacareys velaryon smut #harry collett #george rr martin #game of thrones

982 notes · View notes

millerscoffee · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals. It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it. So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front. He hands out papers, hovering by your desk. Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down. You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings. “Shit,” you say to yourself. That was it. That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course. You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling. You failed. Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind. What were you to do? How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it. The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller. Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes. His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns. He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve. A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt. Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him. “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?” Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl. Proving not to judge a book by its cover. The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff. Predicates and imagery? I’d rather be learning about biology. But I need this course, you know. And I…,” you swallow hard. God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher. He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,” Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table. He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms. Keeps his distance. “It happens, you know. There are things we can do to accommodate. You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail. You have options. I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final. Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare. You know the workload of this university. Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?” You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it. The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help. You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all. I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though. You’d have to come by my house…,” he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course. If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it. You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did. Though, that was neither here nor there. His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing. Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place. But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay. Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race. Tonight? Tonight?! Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.” How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively. “Here’s my address. 7 o’clock.”

“Seven. Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.” His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat. You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers. It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar. Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach. It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home. Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans. His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted. His stomach, soft at the bottom. You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks. You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too. Charismatic as he invites you into his home. Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks. His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower. What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home. It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time. His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures. Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children. He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right? When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too. Fuck, this feels so easy. But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language. He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that. You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally. Plump and ripe for the taking. Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you. What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression. You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen. You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?” When you take the water from him, your fingers graze. The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind. He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead. The two lines between his brow. “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table. Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree. You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop. All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down. You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster. You dread it, you really do. Going over your failures? You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,” Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift. The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head. “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought. You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax. Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself. “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything. See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.” Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format. This citation works for your research papers, right?” He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day. You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper. “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs. You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it? You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly. If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format. Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting. An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse. You shift your gaze to look at him. The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest. The freckles that splayed over his aged skin. “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement. And a pointed one, it seems. Someone to tell you what to do. And Joel wanted to be that person? Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it. Maybe he did that just because this was his house. That must’ve been it. He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next. He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either. What? I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart. Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap. You deserved better than that. He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself. He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes. He felt for you. And he was a bit lost in your eyes. You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit. Joel could see that. He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted. You threw him off without even trying. The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise. You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly. “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay. You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.” He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. The candor, the nerve. A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were. Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain. They look soft, and… willing. You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else. You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming. He’s not married? You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this? So close? Backed by the glow of his house? It was so different from the boys you were used to. In their dorms or disgusting apartments. It smelled as nice as it looked. You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself. You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster. Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway. I know I didn’t at that age.”

There. The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?” You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee. Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers. “Forty-six. You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion. How will this land? What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa. He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out. Do you fake it? Do you give it to them straight? Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you? N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you. It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp. But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge. It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you. Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone. No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet. He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day? You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing. Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans. His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that. All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things. That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready. His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing. Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually. He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination. “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses. Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does. On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat. You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this. You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.” Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request. “I – what?”

“No?” Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood. It’s just, straddling his face? Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?” His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural. But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school. Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today. He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you. “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?” You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place. And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures. His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor. “Fuck,” you mutter. This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does. You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest. Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand? All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening. “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.” Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told. Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart. Then, it’s incredibly palpable. His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him. You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself. There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too. Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt. “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks. Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do. Has so much to teach you, if you let him. Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much. Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him. An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much. It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt. Delicious, deliberate. Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was. Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last. Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you. A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained. “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly. Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery. Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips. Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there. Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you. The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you. Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too. He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin. Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally. Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone. Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar. You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was. Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly. Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor. His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons. “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had. You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm. And everything else.

“You know what you did?” Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand. You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress. “What was it?” You ask, curiously. Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you. His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance. “What is it?” You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him. “No. No. I want to feel you. It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that. At how gone your brain is. Here he was, thinking he was the only one. “Okay, okay, darlin’. I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion. But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head. You were everywhere. His mouth, his glistening chest and beard. He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation. Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock. “Such a needy little thing, now,” it’s as if someone else is talking. This isn’t the Professor Miller you know. This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it. “So fucking wet. Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock. Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it. “Take my cock.”

And take, you do. Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock. Clenching around the head and he growls at that. “You dirty thing. This how you fuck all your teachers?” It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you! Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you. It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him. “Just me, show me then. Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over. Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once. Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own. The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else. His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole. You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected. Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore. “Fuck me, Joel! Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?” Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first. Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this. When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you. How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now. His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow. The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on. The way it sounds. Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you. Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake. You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs. Over your own stomach. You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your. His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it. I know you can take it. Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby. That’s it, that’s good, darlin’. Shh, easy. Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat. Come for me, I know you can be so good for me. Good for – fuck – fuck. Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit. “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come. Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore. You feel too good. Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves. “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!” Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms. You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out. So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear. He doesn’t want to any more than you do. But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out. Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you. You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back. But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle. When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too. He’s just as disheveled. The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?” He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender. More playful. More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.” he’s finished enough for you to roll over. You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop. He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant. “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow. “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,” Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now. “You will pass by your own volition. I meant it – you are bright. You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave. And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.” You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue. Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

#bee's requests #professor!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou smut #joel miller requests #soft!dom joel #softdom!joel #professor au #professor joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller au #by bee

3K notes · View notes

pricegouge · 3 months ago

Text

Haul

Part Four MDNI

Master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

chapter cw: whump. threat of rape.

"Now," Gaz continues, twisting you in John's arms until you face him, your head lolled against the captain's bicep. "About that cheek." You're almost proud of the venom in your voice. "Don't fucking touch it."

Exhaustion and general pain conspire against you, make you fall to the bed in grim defeat once your captors leave, barely even managing enough energy to test the lock. You want to scream and rage, tear the room apart in search of an escape - push the limits of your vocal chords screaming for help. Instead you collapse in a lifeless heap and cry until your throat aches, until the salt of your tears leaves a burning wake down your face. You don't know for how long you sleep. Fitful and restless as it is, you don't imagine you've managed more than a few hours but you have no way of knowing given there are no windows in your little room.

It's hard crawling out of bed despite your general revulsion even touching it. Your whole body aches so acutely you're not sure where the pain is even emanating from, specifically, and it takes you a few minutes of flexing various limbs and appendages to determine you haven't somehow damaged yourself even more in the night. But you're at least as whole as you were before, if stiff from overexertion.

Your relief is short lived though, and once you determine you can, you clamber out of bed and take a quick turn around the room, testing the lock once more and prying at seems in the wall just to be certain there's no egress hiding in plain sight. But your search yields nothing, of course, so you take to exploring the room itself.

The tile underfoot is cold enough that you start with the footlocker, rifling through its contents and noting the wide range of sizes and styles. You can't decide which is worse, the possibility that the clothes you wear now once belonged to a previous victim, or the idea of your captors visiting a Salvation Army and throwing the widest range of sizes they could find into their cart like some sort of demented pre-puppy shopping trip. It makes your skin crawl, but you find some modicum of comfort when your search yields no children's clothes among the collection.

As far as socks go, your only options are all cutesy and fluffy. It would bother you, except the cold bite of the tile makes you wary of anything thin so you pull a pair on graciously and continue your exploration of the sparingly furnished room. Aside from the bed and the little desk, there's an empty bookshelf and a bucket in the corner which makes you shudder just to think about. As if in warning, your tummy gurgles but you cross your legs defiantly where you stand. Instead, you head toward the desk and begin inspecting it, pulling out each drawer in turn only to be greeted by dust, more dust, and a ratty looking deck of cards - benevolent of them - but no pens or pencils, or anything really that could have been used as a makeshift weapon.

You bite back a groan of frustration, determination winning out as you begin to inspect the desk itself. It's a flatpack unit of some sort, solid metal legs and a laminated MDF top. Surprisingly sturdy, and anchored to the wall as you find out when you give it an experimental shove and it bites into your hip rather aggressively. No barricading, then, although it wouldn't do you much good anyway if you couldn't find another exit. Or at least a way to pick them off as they came through the door. Your eyes rove your limited options, landing on the small metal stool tucked under the desk. You tilt your head in consideration, giving it an experimental heft as you imagine beating the large men down with something so unwieldy. It would make you laugh, if it didn't make your shoulder hurt so much.

Movement beyond your door has you stashing your stool away quickly, scrambling back to the bed to hide yourself under the blankets like some frightened child. It makes you sick, having done so, but you stand no chance against these men in your state and you know it.

These boogeymen don't bother with theatrics beyond the sounds of the locks disengaging. It's Kyle who appears first, pretty eyes scanning the room as if in search of threat before stepping to the side and allowing the captain to come through. It strikes you again how very big they are. In this tiny room, with its low slung, claustrophobia-inducing rafters and close- pitched walls, they stand taller than the bookcase, seem to loom near as broad as your bed. Kyle shuts the door behind them but it's almost unnecessary as you know in your bones there would be no slipping past them even if you weren't laid up sorer than a pussy in a pricker patch.

"Good morning doll," John beams and you nod at him absently. Morning. At least you know you got a decent night's sleep, then.

"When the captain wishes you a good morning, you return the favor," Gaz warns and you nod again, swallowing.

"Good morning, John. Good morning, Gaz," you tack on when John raises a brow at you.

"A clever one, then. Good. That'll make this next bit easier." John's smile is almost warm when he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. Pleased, he nearly looks amiable and you can almost see how he's managed to bring this group of men to heel, though the notion makes you want to clobber yourself with your stool as soon as you think it.

With the added weight on the mattress, it's a struggle to stay leaning away from him. John seems to notice, crinkling his eyes at you in a way that would suggest warmth on anyone else. It just makes him look more unsettling, the gleam of his deep blue eyes more akin to the scales littering the ground of a fish market than to the ocean itself.

"You're gonna have to let us closer, if you want Gaz to help with your wounds."

Your eyes flick to the other man, for the first time noticing the small basket he carries. You spot rubbing alcohol, some bandages, even a folded sling - they do not offer much relief, held in the hands of a man who looks like he'd much prefer to squirt the IPA into your eye.

"Gaz wants to kill me," you state, voice surprisingly bland.

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead."

John laughs when you flinch, though you certainly can't find the humor in the situation. "Gaz can be a little intense," the captain grants. His hand finds your knee in a gesture he probably thinks is comforting. "But I'm sure he'll warm up once he gets a chance to play."

Your eyes dart between the two, heart hammering. If this is the moment, you suppose you can only be grateful it's not all four of them.

John's voice is stern when he continues, "Enough now. You want Gaz to be nice to you, you'll have to be nice to Gaz -."

"He -," you start, voice sharp despite knowing better.

The captain simply holds up a hand, silencing you easily. "You nearly broke Kyle's nose, pet. Look at that pretty nose," John commands, reaching out viper quick to get your chin trapped in his meaty fingers. He turns your face toward the other man, but he also pulls you closer to himself until you feel the scratch of his unkempt chops against your feverish cheek.

"Kyle here's as pretty as they come, inn'e? And you almost ruined that, just because you didn't know your place. It's no wonder he doesn't like you, is it?"

Gaz had wanted to kill you before you'd done that, though you don't think that's worth mentioning. "No. No wonder."

"That's right, pet. Smart girl. So what do we say to Kyle?"

"Sorry, Kyle," you recite obediently, every nerve in your body alight and on edge as you study his face for a reaction. He gives none.

"Gonna have to be sweeter than that, doll," John coos. His fingers flex ominously against your jaw.

You only realize you're crying again when your voice comes out croaky. "I'm sorry for almost breaking your pretty nose, Kyle."

This time, Kyle smiles - or some approximation of it, at least. Relief floods you, strong enough you don't even mind when John suddenly drops his grip on your jaw. You flop to the bed as he stands from it, mustache twitching as he grins down at you. "Not so hard, was it? Now ask nice and he can help you with those scrapes, too." He nods at you from under his brow, face scrunching as he rocks up onto his toes, a dog with too much energy.

"Kyle, can you please help me with my… scrapes?" you ask, even though you'd rather cut your own fingers off than let any of them touch you. Even though you know there's not much he can do for your more egregious wounds anyway.

He doesn't see the same issues you do. "'Course, luv."

They start you off easy enough. Gaz inspects your hand first, pushing your sleeves up to gently prod at any discolorations he finds. John asks you if any of them hurt and you almost laugh when it takes you a moment to answer, forcefully pushing the pain in your face and shoulder away so you can reflect on the rest of your body.

"Not really."

"Where does it hurt?" Kyle asks, distracted as he cleans the patch of road rash on your palm with peroxide.

For a moment, you stare at him from under your heavy, swollen eyelid, sarcastic even without comment. He doesn't even bother glancing up to acknowledge it before rubbing a brillo pad over the sore on your palm. "My face," you hiss, breathing deep when he ceases his scrubbing to inspect the wound again.

"Sorry," he says apathetically. "Still had some dirt in there. You were saying?"

You blink between the two of them, swallowing both your pride and the instinct to slap him. "My face. And my shoulder. My hip, a little bit."

"Saw that." John's eyes are heavy where they linger on the swell of your ass. You knew they'd been watching as you'd dressed, but it still sets a low simmer of panic off in your belly to hear confirmation. "That from when Soap ran the rig into you?"

"I think so."

"At least he didn't break her hip this time," Gaz mutters, and John sends you a patronizing smile when he sees the flicker of fear cross your face.

"No worries, love. She lived."

It slips out before you fully authorize it, "For how long?"

A stillness draws around them both. John's gaze turns cold and lifeless, face less animated. Gaz watches you from beneath his brow, mouth a grim line. When he does speak, John's voice is just as stiff as his countenance. "Longer than you will, you keep mouthing off."

It's funny, how the only defense you have against that is a million funny lines you could feed him right back running suicide sprints between your ears. Funnier still how quickly you're learning to ignore them.

John's boots are heavy on the tile as he steps toward you, high treads nearly drumming one spike at a time as he takes care to walk slowly, heel to toe. When he stands in front of you, you have to crane your neck to see him because it hurts your bad eye to roll that far.

"If I give you your rules while Gaz works on you here, you gonna be able to listen? Use your words," he tacks on when you nod once.

"Ye -. Ouch," you jolt, ripping your hand out of Gaz's when he presses his thumb meanly into the patch of road rash.

"Really think, luv. Cap hates repeating himself."

You glance between the two of them, both of them stern and unimpressed. "Maybe you should… wait?"

John's patronizing, crinkly-eyed smile is back. He pats you on the bad cheek. There's no force to it, but his palm is heavy enough to give you synesthesia for a moment, pain a physical thing which blooms red-ringed and vacant across your vision. "Smart doll. Now let's get you out of those clothes so Gaz can take a proper look at you."

There'd be no fighting them even if you were brave enough to try it. John manhandles you back to your feet with a strong grip on your good arm, his other hand cupping your ribs to avoid jostling your shoulder. It slides down to your hem once he gets you standing, thick fingers blisteringly hot against your clammy skin.

"Cold as a corpse, doll. We'll need to get you some more blankets, hm?"

You don't bother answering as he pulls your shirt up and over your good arm, your head getting stuck for a moment as he changes course to slide the sleeve down your bad limb. You're almost grateful, except then Kyle is loosing the stays of your pants and sliding them down your hips, tutting briefly at the massive mottling that paints your hip. His fingers are gentle until they're not, sussing out the epicenter of the contusion to dig a bony finger in and smirk when you yelp. "That hurt?"

"Yes," you hiss and he hums thoughtfully.

"Still have full range of movement?"

"I don't -. I think so?"

Gaz nods up at John and the older man reacts immediately, turning you until your back rests against his chest and wrapping his arms under your own to keep you upright. "Tell me if it hurts," Gaz warns, and then his hands are gripping your thigh, opening it wide and testing its range.

An aborted noise bubbles up in your throat, dies off when John hooks his chin over your shoulder to get a better look at what Gaz is doing. Your breath comes heavy, lungs working hard enough to raise the band of John's arms with each inhale. The indignity is bad enough, but to have your crotch fully exposed, inches away from Kyle's concentrated face as they both look on, pretending to be uninterested in it makes you want to deflate within your own skin, shrivel up and die. You whimper when Gaz presses two fingers to your hip flexor, tears welling up in your eyes.

"That hurt, doll?" John asks, mock concerned, whiskers brushing against your temple. You shake your head adamantly and John chuckles. "Feel good, then?"

"No," you wheeze and Gaz's thumb digs into your hip, making you fold in on yourself.

"Easy," John warns - yourself or Kyle, you don't know. He straightens you back up and flattens one palm against your flank, as if soothing an agitated horse. "That one hurt, didn't it? Is Gaz playing mean?"

Words fail you when the other man looks up at you with cold, ominous eyes. You don't need to be told to know inherently that John will not tolerate being lied to, but neither do you particularly relish angering Gaz by throwing him under the bus. "It's… fine," you settle on lamely, sighing in relief when they both accept it easily enough.

"Good here, cap," Kyle declares, lowering your foot back to the tile. They'd let you keep your socks on, blessedly. It's cold even through the ridiculous things.

"Can I put my pants back on?" You ask eagerly, and John just laughs in your ear, still wrapped around you.

"Don't even want some knickers? Slag."

There hadn't been any underwear in the chest, otherwise you'd have put some on already, but you don't think that's worth mentioning. "I would like some underwear, yes. Please."

"Well, because you asked so nice." The hand on your ribs pulls away. From the corner of your eye, you see John reach into the front pocket of his cargos and then he's dangling a pair of basic cotton panties in your face. When you go to grab them from him, he yanks them away, breath hot and warm against your cheek as he warns, "Tomorrow you'll have to earn these. Understand?"

You swallow. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes… sir?"

"Good dolly," he breathes, and when he shifts slightly to let you take the panties you think you feel the hard shaft of his cock against your back. "You just keep being smart and we won't have any problems, will we?"

"N-no, sir."

"That's right. Now put those on before I fuck you about it."

No need to tell you twice. John drops them before you can grab for them again, but you catch the cotton between your fingers as they fall. Scrambling out of his grasp, you bend to dress and ignore the low whistle behind you as best you can. Though you thank Gaz prettily when he hands you your bottoms.

"Welcome, luv." You take note of how he sounds genuinely warm, perhaps the first time you've earned it from him, and resolve to try being more pleasant with him. "Now let's take a look at that shoulder."

He's nice about it this time, sitting you down easily on the bed before stroking his warm hands all over your upper arm. He squeezes gently in a few places, gives you a sympathetic smile when you cringe. He tests your movement again, face drawing tighter when he finds you can't raise your arm above shoulder height. Trying to be helpful, you inform him that you believe it's your collar bone and then his palm is there too, earning a pathetic little whimper when he presses a hair too hard.

"Sorry, luv," he mutters, but his fingers carry on tracing the bone through your thin skin, prodding invasively where it connects to your scapula. He shushes you when you cringe away, nodding at John briefly to keep you in place again. His fingers don't stop no matter how much you whine and bat at him with your free hand. He weathers it without so much as a glance, your attempts pathetic enough that John doesn't even bother to contain them until you've already made a few swats at Kyle's arm. "Think it's connected at least," he finally decides, touch turning soothing again as he sits back on his heels.

"Fractured?"

"Hard to tell. Rotator cuff is inflamed as hell, but I'm hoping that's the reason she can't move very well."

"Ice and pain meds?"

"And the sling, to be safe."

"Think we can manage that, hm pet?" His voice is far too bright. You kind of want to vomit.

"Now," Gaz continues, twisting you in John's arms until you face him, your head lolled against the captain's bicep. "About that cheek."

You're almost proud of the venom in your voice. "Don't fucking touch it."

Gaz doesn't flinch, but John jostles you with his shoulder, his tone warning. "Language."

"You can't do anything for it anyway," you double down. It's strange how quickly your body jumps from resigned exhaustion to complete tension, drawn like a bow ready to fire. For the door or for a chest you're not entirely sure yet.

"Can tell the boys your mouth's out of commission for a few weeks."

Your breath stutters. Somehow, in all the nightmare scenarios you'd pictured in this new life, having to suck a cock while your face felt like it was collapsing in on itself wasn't one of them. "You would…?"

Kyle's gaze is heavy, but it's John who answers. A soft brush of knuckles against your swollen face, just enough to make you flinch and then he's there, whiskers like sandpaper against your skin. "We would."

In the end, Kyle doesn't touch you. He lets you do it, fingers feather light as he directs you to feel along the ridge of your eye socket first, and then down underneath, pushing on your gums through the meat of your cheek. You find it there, on the underside, up by your nose. Or at least you think you do - a clump of tissue so swollen and knotted you can't even feel the bone through it. It makes your whole body ache to touch it, and the noise you emit when pain blooms from your sinus cavity all the way to the cradle of your skull would be frankly embarrassing if you could hear it over the ringing in your ears.

They wait for you to settle, palms heavy as they stroke over your legs and arms. You want to fight them off, but you want comfort more so you allow this small trespass, turning into John when he drapes a blanket over you because you're fucking cold without your shirt, adrenaline response to pain leaving you a shaking mess. When you've come down as much as you're able, Gaz asks a series of questions which leave you confused, staring blankly at him as you answer as best you can.

"What's it feel like under there?"

"Hard. Swollen. But also tender?" It felt like if a slightly undercooked steak had pain receptors, but you're not sure that will be effectively understood so you leave that part out.

"On your good cheek, show me where it was exactly." You do and he clarifies, pointing to the fine bone below his own tear duct. "Not right here?"

"No."

"Can you breathe through your nose?"

"No."

"Any vision changes?"

You stop, think. "When I was running it went black. And when I touch it I can… see it?"

Gaz frowns, sucks his teeth. He directs John to sit you up straight and then tells you to follow his finger with your eyes as he moves it about. "Hold your head still," he corrects when his fingers wander too high and you have to tilt your head to follow.

"Hurts."

"Where?"

You point to the fine muscles behind your upper eyelid on your good side and Gaz's expression deepens.

"She broken?" John grunts, and something about the phrasing sets a panic alarm off in the back of your mind.

"Not yet. Worried about her eye."

"And what do we do about that?"

"Ice, pain meds. An anti-inflammatory wouldn't hurt, preferably something for her sinuses specifically." Gaz spares you a glance that lets you know immediately he isn't saying everything. "And an antibiotic."

John sighs, sounding world weary. "Hard to get."

"Necessary."

"You think?"

"Definitely."

The captain contemplates a moment, then turns to you with that same uncannily cheerful expression from before. "Well, no use arguing with the doctor, is it? Up you get, pet. We'll get you dressed and let you use the bathroom, get some food in you. Have you feeling better in no time."

***

The restroom upstairs is nothing to write home about, but you'd take an outhouse over the bucket downstairs so you feel grateful all the same. They don't let you close the door, but Simon stands politely off to the side of it, his view obstructed by the frame. You're quick about your ablutions despite being hindered by your new sling, but you manage. The sight of the mirror hanging over the sink gives you pause as you approach it and you avoid it at first, concentrating on getting the toothbrush they've generously left for you out of its packaging. You rinse it off, apply the paste, note you can't smell the sharp tang of cinnamon, and then steel yourself for the reveal.

It's not quite as bad as you'd expected, though in some ways it's worse. Your face doesn't sag the way you'd feared it would, the thin bone of your eye socket apparently doing the lord's work of keeping your cheek from melting to the side. Still, you hadn't expected the swelling along your brow, or the broken blood vessels in your eye. You also expected the dark discoloration of normal bruising, but this is livid - a deep crimson layered under your skin tone which mottles in a way you've never seen before, speaking of fresh blood. It makes you weak to look at, gut churning unexpectedly. You duck away and settle yourself, knowing full well any more inflammation in your nose would be the death of you. You remember what Gaz said about an antibiotic and panic a bit, thinking of vomit in your sinus cavity.

When you get yourself in order you brush your teeth, gingerly, afraid to push against your top gums too much on the one side. You ask Simon if you are allowed to take a shower and he tells you no, though he shows you where to find hair products, if you need them.

When you're feeling a little more human you follow him back to the break room area the boys had been at the previous night where he collects another bowl of bland soup from Johnny. You make no comment about it being an odd choice for breakfast, knowing full well you wouldn't be able to eat anything solid anyway. From there, Simon escorts you back down to your room, silent all the while, ducking below overhang on the stairs gracefully. John's still there, sprawling across the bed as if on a mission to remind you he owns it. You do your best to ignore them both, settling down at your desk to eat your meal while Ghost lingers at the door.

"You can stay, Si," John comments blandly and the big man nods once, leaning himself against the door frame in a way that shows off how much bigger he is than it. "Feeling better, doll?"

You glance at John. "Yes, sir."

"How's the soup?"

"Good, sir. Thank you."

"You're very welcome. When you're done, come sit with me."

You don't want to do that, but neither do you want to sit here lingering while they watch you draw a bowl of soup out until it's cold. So you nod, eating it as fast as you dare before slinking off to sit next to John on the bed. He shifts to allow you more room, revealing the pile of newspapers behind him in the process. Your gaze catches on them and you remember what he said the night before, eyes going wide as saucers as it finally registers what rules he wanted to discuss earlier.

John notices, of course he does. He chuckles darkly, retrieving the pile of old paper and placing it on his knee. Front and center, a photo depicts a large gathering of police cars, yellow caution tape fencing off an obscured patch of shrubby roadside. 'Woman Found Dead Outside of Grants, Police Suspect Foul Play,' the headline reads, and you fight to keep your breathing in order.

"Let's start here, then, shall we?" Despite his tone brooking no argument, John does not move until you look at him. "I have here the headlines associated with seven murders, pet. These are the ones that have been found, and were interesting enough to garner media attention - do you know what I mean by that?"

You nod, eying the pile of papers again. It's much more than seven articles, which means he followed investigations as well - which means the investigations were interesting enough to be written about. Your mind scrolls through endless thumbnails of true crime drama, the most gruesome killers getting the most hours of screen time.

"It means we've killed more than this, for a start. Easy ones, like your friend. Collateral. They never really get much attention," he scoffs, flicking the top page irritably before taking its top corner and flinging it off to the side. The next one tells of a missing woman found dead outside Moab, Utah. "She was a pretty one," John comments blandly, "though not as clever as you. Only kept her a few weeks. Waste of time, honestly."

He turns the page again, lets you read about the sexual assault police believe she was subject to in the days before her death. You're only aware of how shallow your breathing has become when you start to go a bit light headed.

"These ones, the ones we keep, they get some more attention. More so, the longer we keep them." The next headline must've been written by a real asshole, the humor in it tasteless and mean, 'Woman Returned Home After Six Months - In a Body Bag.'

"Do you want to see why?" John purrs, already thumbing the page.

"Please, no," you sob, shoving at the papers childishly.

John just laughs, holds your wrists not ungently. "That's okay, doll. We have all the time in the world to read them together, when you're ready." When you need a reminder, he probably means, though you know better than to call him on it. "I just wanted to get that out of the way, to clear up any confusion you might be having about your stay here, hm?"

There's no helping the tears that stream down your face, even knowing how much you're inflaming your cheek. You nod, beyond words, and John hums at you, sickly sweet.

"You'll get used to it, I promise. You're a clever one, the clever ones always do well."

Until they don't.

"I didn't even need to tell you what your punishments will be if you really displease us, and already you know it will go bad for you. Do you think she's our cleverest doll yet, Simon?"

You'd nearly forgot he was there, gaze flashing to him where he leans, unphased. "Picked 'er for a reason, didn't I?"

"Yes, and a very good choice indeed." John'sthumb hovers threateningly over your abused cheek. "But be more careful bringing them in next time."

Next time. Your stomach turns to stone.

"Yes, sir," Simon rumbles.

"So pet, are you ready to go over your rules?"

You'd rather go poking around your eye socket again, really. "Yes, sir," you sniffle instead.

"Good girl. First, some housekeeping." He points over his shoulder at the bucket in the corner. "See that lightswitch there, by Simon?" You nod when the big man motions to it, though it was hardly necessary as it is the only switch in the room. "That does not control the lights. That is actually a clever little device which rings a phone upstairs when flipped up. Go on, Simon."

He does as told, gloved fingers flipping the switch up and leaving it. Above, in the office, an ancient-sounding landline rings until Simon flips it back down.

"If you ever need something, you can call us that way - though I recommend you use it sparingly," he warns. "It is also how you will let us know when you need to use the facilities." Despite yourself, your stomach clenches excitedly at that, eager to be proven wrong about the bucket. On queue, John points over his shoulder at it. "That is for emergencies only. We're not animals, but we're not always available - and we're not unreasonable. If we come back to a mess after being away, we will clean it. But if we're home and you've simply failed to ask first, you will be the one to clean it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," he says, unnervingly cheery again. And then his face drops, dead serious as he continues, "You will earn your keep here by making yourself available to us whenever we wish, is that clear?"

You knew it was coming, but it doesn't stop the ice bath of nerves that washes over you, skin prickling as you stammer, "S-sir?"

"You will not fight us, or try to stop us. If you do, you will be hobbled in whatever manner we see fit. Nod if you understand."

It takes you a moment, tears obscuring your vision again as you blink between the two men desperately. They do not flinch or rescind the statement, and you nod.

"You will not whine," John hisses, wiping your tears away with a thumb that nearly blinds you as it pulls across your cheek. "Or cry, or be miserable. If you are, you will be put in a gimp mask so we do not have to see it. Do you hear me? Shut that up," he hisses, pointing sternly at your face.

Your lip wobbles, one last breath shudders through you as you try to calm yourself, but your voice is surprisingly even when you respond. "Yes, sir."

"That's a good doll. In return, you'll get two meals a day, and shower every other. Does that sound fair?"

"Benevolent, sir," you snipe, nerves too shot to help yourself anymore.

John huffs, humorless. "I forgot how funny the clever ones can be. Did you, Simon?"

"It's been a minute, sir," the larger man allows, not really answering the question.

"It has, hasn't it? Do you think this one will ever be clever enough to earn some time upstairs?"

It's embarrassing, the way you perk up at such measly bait, but one night in the cold basement was already more than enough for you, and even the warehouse seems like a good goal to work towards after the hours spent alone in the dark.

"Remains to be seen, sir."

Next>>

#dark fic #dead dove fic #141 x you #141 x reader #haul #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #Kyle garrick x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john price x reader #john price x you #poly 141 #💷🔪

520 notes · View notes

swaqcenix · 10 months ago

Text

The Devil was an Angel First | N. Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff x fem!stripper reader

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Summary: It was a risk and a job worth taking, simply use your ability to seduce to earn enough money to get you your university degree. Yet you didn't anticipate the owner of the strip-club to take a significant interest in you, but what can she do? As soon as Natasha saw you, you were hers.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x!fem stripper reader, employee x boss, forbidden romance

Warnings: 18+, slight dark!natasha romanoff, manipulation, strip-teasing, lap-dancing, pole-dancing, fingering, semi-public sex, oral (n to r), mommy kink, strap-on, choking,degrading, over-stimulation, handcuffs and toys, reader is easily manipulated!

Word Count: 9K

AN: This is heavily inspired by the song Pray by Xana, you could listen to it while reading this to get an extra bit of the atmosphere ;)) Also I wil be taking small requests or drabbles for this specific fic/pairing as I'm secretly addicted to this concept.. (not so secretly.)

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Slipping amongst the crowds, your eyes dart around the room as the sounds of the club itself echo through your body. The lighting was illuminating each corner of the room, but stopping in certain bleak shadow's contrasting well with those who put on a performance.

The smell of slick sweat and hot bodies mingling through the room made your nose twitch through instinct and it was around this time your mind was wondering whether this was the right call.

University had been always your major goal in life, pass through High-school get your qualifications and your grades, just don't fuck up. For most of your life you'd remained hidden in the shadows, contempt to live life remaining hidden away while the flashlight of beams hit the sky's ground touching everything but yourself.

Yet apparently life deemed it not apparent that this was the case for you. Instead when your family collided into debuts and the household becoming a simply standing memory of what once was and never could be's you knew the longing for snatching your degree's up in higher education was slipping like fog and air through your fingers.

Would that be a common knowledge concept and reality to turn towards darker paths? Well, darker in regards to your family's eye-line anyway. You simply saw it as an opportunity for people who enjoyed doing things their own way, their own style and didn't wish to follow into the lights of the sky like others we're unique.

Your family wouldn't be appreciating your actions but it didn't matter. It realistically couldn't no matter how much they perhaps frowned at the idea. You could perhaps go into depth of how it wasn't selling your body but allowing it to be seen, allowing others to get a taste of the salt and the the aroma of flavours their hearts desire, but never fully satisfied.

Pole-Dancing wasn't something you'd be opposed to doing by any means. Watching the way they drift through the air, holding onto the bar with such pristine confidence and high agility hit your stomach in all the right ways. Nimble and soft fingers holding onto the pole with such grace their body's dancing into the fire of the night, other's moving with grace and affirmation.

The men and women watching their every action their every step with such a wide eye their lustful thoughts screaming with such a power your own ears rang. Black stiletto's clinging to the poles with a strength that made you doubt your own abilities despite having the darkest of secrets lingering on thoughts.

Quiet girls always tend to have the deepest of desires, the fieriest of personality. The set determination on being quiet, being forgotten and not wanting to be seen always portrays just how difficult life could dance around in a sea of wonder and mystery.

The air smelt so much of blood sweat and tears, the smoke driving the fuel into everyone's body, an ignition lighting up. You turned towards the bar deciding to opt on a drink, probably a hardcore whiskey if you wanted to get through this alive and sane, the burning feeling would ground you heavily to reality.

Turning on your heels, your contrasting deep-blood heels clacked heavily on the floor, treading with a walk that helped you do the one thing you'd avoided doing. Being seen.

Eyes watched, heads tilted and words of whisper drifted across the room as you brought the attention away from the other worker's sensing some hard glares and other longing looks. It was no secret you had the looks, it was just never in your cards, not your line of sight, but the devil didn't always play with fire until pushed within the flames.

"Whiskey neat please," your voice was firm and held no conversation for an argument.

The barman glanced at you and you simply watched as his eyes glanced at you, looking you up and down. You could practically feel the budge in his pants grow from here and the self-refraining you were doing from rolling your eyes was repulsing.

You weren't about to start off your first time in this place by pissing off the men you could encounter more often in telling them you not into indulging in their acts. Explaining to men who couldn't understand the word no when it comes to simply not being interested in them was not a path you cared to go down for the time being, instead settling on biting your tongue.

Sure, it didn't mean you couldn't make some impressions around here though. You'd already made a rather splendid entrance by sauntering around capturing lingering eyes of the men and women which allowed your red tinted lips to tilt upwards.

The barman worked nimbly, his hands being heavy but not without meaning as he flipped bottles around like he was performing an act. Normally this would entice most women to jump for joy and use some ogle eyes towards him. However, you were in fact not most women, you simply walked through the world of shadows until you decided to finally allow the light to kiss your skin in all the right areas.

He slowly slid the drink down to you as you tossed him the dollar bills owed and sauntered off in means to find the owner of this establishment. The music moved above you like puppet's on a string as you did your best to try and move through the blinding strobe lights and bodies mingling into one.

Guessing that the owner would find you before you found them, your body decided to make it's way over to a table waiting for them to arrive with introductions, you crossed your legs simply playing with the bottom of the whiskey glass, swirling it around for play as you chucked it down your throat.

The feeling of the burn hit you instantly and you squinted for a moment before a heavy sigh escaped the opening of your lips leaning back in the chair once again becoming one with the shadows. Besides the demons in everyone else's heads seemed to be having their own rituals one of which you weren't enticed on indulging in such acts.

The approaching sound of heels made your body almost churn with anxiety for reasons currently unknown to you.

The approaching sound of heels made your body almost churn with anxiety for reasons currently unknown to you. Doing well to not attract attention you glanced through your glass trying to picture who was approaching and a flash of red curls took through the reflection.

Your lips tilted upwards in a mischievous smirk as you leaned back in your seat, a feeling of excitement coursing through your veins. Your mind wandered as you presumed the mystery woman was approaching ready to allure you into sinful acts of seduction and dance through desire into the night.

Instead, what was not predicted was the black stiletto heels coming to a stand still right behind your table, a hot and heavy breath lingering in your ear. Your body tensed and you felt the smirk dripping from the woman behind you as you tilted your head turning around to be met with someone who should be the devil in disguise, one to lure you entirely out of the shadows and touch the fires to ignite you entirely.

"You must be Y/N. Y/LN. I am Natasha Romanoff, Miss Romanoff to you. Owner of Desiring ignition. I will interview you in the back rooms if you don't mind?" her voice asking a question but orders slipping from the sinful tongue.

Your body moved before your lips did and you found yourself following after the redhead like an obedient dog, for a minute forgetting yourself entirely and not thinking, just acting like a string was tugging you along.

Her red hair was distinctive even against the darkened tone of the room, the lights dimming in and out didn't affect it as it shone like fire and ash, the devil reincarnated you knew. Her hips swayed with an intent to drive a man wild but in a way she didn't wish for any of them, simply alluding to her own intoxicating beauty, poison and toxic.

The eyes followed you both and you scampered after her down a neon-purple hallway, the colour's almost blinding you within a trance. Finding your bearings you knew you'd need to pull yourself together if you wanted this job so decided to play in the same game, the same chess board. Play with the devil.

Her hands clasped tightly around the handle as Miss Romanoff lead you into what you presumed to be her office before shutting the door behind her. The noise seemed to almost be drowned out now, as though she'd installed noise cancellation into her office.

Your eyes scanned the room trying to analyse and get anything you could on this woman. You'd always liked to get to know someone through their surroundings and what that said person associates themselves with, especially if it works in your favour.

The office itself was dimly lit but well cleaned and decorated minimally. To your left there was a desk, mahogany coloured with 2 chairs on ether side, the desk holding files that your eyes couldn't capture from the distance you stood. A solemn picture held itself strongly on the desk of what you could make out to be a younger blonde woman, perhaps the same age as you or a couple years older.

The redhead nodded her head towards the chair on the other side of her desk, before sitting down on a black leather one herself. Even sat down in the dimly lit office you could tell she was a woman of business, not one to be meddled with nor to cross without paying the price which for yourself was bad given your track record of loving to stir the pot.

Her eyes lingered over your own for a while examining you, looking you up and down in a way your body almost jolted at the sheer intensity of her gaze. Not wanting to keep the older woman wanting any longer, your feet moved on the own accord sitting down on the chair opposite of her. Her posture was still up straight, impossibly held and elegant opposite of your own.

"So," she began by looking through your files as though you'd be arrested under a warrant issued for the most wanted criminal.

"You've got good grades from schools, a track record of not seeming to show herself within public eye and even held debates and meetings within clubs. Your jobs previously consist of coffee shops and waiting so what exactly is it you have to offer here," she stated her voice was laced with disdain and annoyance.

"Well that's correct yes, but I have goals in life and things I need to achieve. I can't get there without doing this first, trust me it's a last resort," you replied cringing inwardly at your response.

It was a stupid mistake you'd created by saying this job was a last resort. That would be the last thing this goddess of a pain was waiting to hear, especially when wanting to employ you. You'd fucked up royally but like she stated, you had a tendency for debate clubs and there was nothing better you were good at than worming you way into or out of situations.

Her eyebrows shot upwards at your response and you watched with fear as the redhead perused her lips together eyeing you once again with a look of utter irritation.

"So you see us as a last resort?" She asked stiffly.

"No, nothing like that-" you tried to reason but her hand waved in the air dismissing your comment before you'd began.

"Y/L/N. Do you know how many people come here asking for jobs hm?" Her head titled to the side lips twitching while watching you squirm.

"No..."

"Over 200. How many do you reckon we employ exactly?"

The venom and toxic poison in her voice almost sent you spiralling you couldn't help but feel entirely hooked on it. Yet the feeling in your mind told you to run, leave before you headed down the road of embarrassment and utter danger.

"I'm not sure, Miss Romanoff," you voice was surprisingly even for someone being scolded in a private office room.

"The answer is 4% out of those 200 get employed. Yet, a silly girl like you walks along struts in like she owns the fucking place and says it's a last resort," she taps her finger on the side of her face mockingly.

"No.. I can dance and I'm incredibly talented on a pole," you tried to reason but she once again shushed you in a dismissive tone.

"You're dismissed off you go," she shooed you off and your legs stood by themselves your mind no longer in control of your body.

As your body walked towards the door head daring not to look back your hands went towards the door handle, before lingering on the metal for a moment. Your mind danced away thinking of thoughts and how you couldn't give up so easily. You came in this bar, this strip-club looking for a job and you'd be damned to go without one. Sure the woman behind you was a stole cold bitch, but she came with fire. You had the gasoline to set this place alight.

Turning on your heels, you faced the older woman who went from looking down at her files with disinterest to whipping her head up. Miss Romanoff tilted her head to the side as you approached with a surge of confidence that you didn't know you had running through your veins setting your blood alight. Your body leaning over her desk you smirked as she watched and you could sense her tense beneath you.

"Let me show you what I can do," your voice was whispered with sultry and laced with such confidence that was missing moments ago.

The redhead thought for a moment, her lips twitching ever so slightly at the sides before tilting up. She removed herself from her chair carrying her composure elegantly as ever before entering your personal space.

"Be my guest, show me what you can do," she smirked.

Before you could even blink, Miss Romanoff snatched your hand and lead you out of her office towards one of the unoccupied rooms. The sparks you felt when her hand clasped your hand and rising towards your wrist jolted your stomach giving you somersault's.

She on the other hand, snatched her hand away as quickly as she took it and you weren't sure why that caused such a sting within you. The older woman wasn't required to touch you in any way, but her response was as though she'd been burnt in opposition to your own body's reaction wanting to feel her touch ignite you more.

Suddenly the vast realisation of reality crashed down on you and your stomach churned in thought. Your mindset couldn't be thinking this type of way in any shape or form towards someone who could perhaps be your boss. This wasn't about to become some cliche film style where you fuck your boss, you couldn't give her that style of power.

Yet, as you let your mind indulge further in thoughts, she wasn't your boss. Not yet and not now, besides if you wanted this job a thirst to prove yourself to the flames of hell as she was, you were going to have to join the game.

Heading further down the hall, Natasha stopped at the door to her left and you titled your head in anticipation. The feeling of not knowing what you could possibly find was always thrilling yet had an edge of dread that filled your lungs and ran through your veins.

Observing her silently, you watched the redhead slip out a singular key from her pocket before slipping it with ease into the lock and turning it. Her hand which you tried definitely too hard to not focus on wrapped around the handle turning it before standing to the side awaiting you to head inside.

Silently entering the room, you found yourself coming to a sudden halt at the sight that stood before you. A singular pole stood in the middle of the room, tall and with a bolden look about it almost calling to you begging you to dance upon it. Towards the corner of the room lay what you predicted to be a lot of BDSM toys ranging from handcuffs and blindfolds to nipple clamps and leg spreaders.

Your cheeks flushed heavily at the sight as heat ran through your body and you found yourself turning away from the toys, eyes instead landing on a chaise lounge. The furniture was a deep red, crimson in fact darkened like the blood flushing heavily through your veins, perhaps darker than Ms Romanoff's hair. Turning your head in her direction you realised she'd been watching your reaction as you absorbed and gawked at the room, causing you to flush even further.

The older woman simply smirked at you before making her way over to the chaise lounge, looking you up and down in what you originally thought was a judgmental look now seemed otherwise, before sitting with determination down onto the chair.

For a moment it was silence as she only stared at you examining you for a mere moments that felt like hours before rolling her eyes and scoffing. Her hand raised upwards as her index finger- that looked incredible you might add- came out and directed at the pole giving you a pointed look. Realisation hit your face and you realised what the redhead was asking of you, which caused all sorts of emotions to run through your head.

She was asking you to to give a full example of how you'd dance within her club, within her line of work and show yourself. Normally this wouldn't be a bother as you'd come to a damn strip-club for god sake, but it was the idea of dancing alone with her that sent your nerves spiralling and your body shaking beneath you.

Still, there was no point in arguments, you'd been the one to suggest showing her, but in hopes of a more lively atmosphere. Instead Miss. Romanoff had lead you to a secluded room one of which held what you predicted secrets hiding within the 4 walls for you to dance in.

Sucking in a tight breath you closed your eyes tightly shut counting to 3 before opening them once more. Getting your bearings around you, you strutted to the pole making sure to remove the jacket that clung tightly to your skin hugging you in all the right places. The jacket was placed to the side of Natasha and you tried not to smirk too much at the feeling of her eyes travelling over your form.

Her body stood up, walking over to a speaker in the corner causing you body to tense up slightly. If it was too loud it was sure to cause an uproar of attention that in this current moment you didn't want. Your mind was too focused on earning the approval and the full attention of the redhead selfishly to yourself despite wishing that you didn't indulge in such sinful acts.

You removed your pants, leaving yourself in only your polo shirt and underwear, trying your best not to make any sort of contact with her. You could have done pole-dancing in your pants but it wasn't a risk worth taking if you didn't want any slip ups and needed the grip. Instead you walked over to the pole closing your eyes tightly before opening them and glancing over at Miss Romanoff.

Her head was tilted to the side and you were almost convinced her eyes that you noticed earlier were the shade of emerald green like the piercing ground of earth were almost charcoal now, luring you into the mist of hazing sinful creatures and touching the igniting flame. Instead of contemplating thoughts any longer you let out a mere nod towards the older woman and she smirked turning on a song that widened your eyes as, girls girls girls by FLETCHER began to echo through the room.

Trying to once again ignore the intriguing implications behind the song you stepped forward flexing your hand back and forth continuously before gripping onto the pole tightly with your left hand. Your fingers curled instinctively around the metal bar and you cleared your mind. One of the first things you'd learnt about dancing and when understanding how to use the effective ways of pole-dancing was don't think just act.

You let your mind carry through the music eliciting the illusions of thoughts and song's as your body carried you through. You started off smoothly, swinging your way seductively around the pole keeping your outside leg straight before pivoting your inside foot at the same time.

Your mind carried through song as the beat's began to pick up, your outside foot worked through muscle memory hooking around the pole before your other joined gripping tightly.

As soon as you felt your body securely fitted on the pole your hips moved in ways of wonder as though art itself couldn't touch through paintings of masterpieces. Your back arched and your hip swayed in beat swinging yourself around the pole before your body flipped itself in ways of wonder, dancing and spinning with everything it had.

The song slowly began to draw to a close and it was then your eyes chose to linger from being shut as you made your distinctive signature move, swinging yourself around with a grace you didn't know was within you. Your body swung from the top to the bottom of the pole in the most seductive way possible as your fingers crossed over, before your eyes drifted to the red head.

It took everything within you not to let out a shit-eating grin when you noticed the gawking from Miss Romanoff who looked like she was ready to eat you up whole. Given any other circumstances you would have flushed or felt self-conscious, but instead you embraced the feeling of confidence as you gently slithered off the pole a laugh almost sliding past your lips.

You sauntered over to the older woman, teasing leaning over her body to grab your jacket only to be yanked down onto the couch. You felt the blood run course through your body you heart pounding so loudly you'd not be surprised if she could hear it herself. The room came to a heated silence, the tension thick and easily cut with a knife. Natasha's hand came up to cup your jaw tilting it to the side almost as though she wanted to judge that part of you too, or better yet distract herself from what she was initially going to do.

"Tomorrow, 8:30pm your shift will begin. I recommend not arriving late, or better yet arrive earlier to prepare yourself. You work hours will differ but tomorrow you'll be finishing at 3:30am. Understand sweetheart?" Her voice husked out and you were almost putty in her hands once more.

Your head nodded unconsciously, the primal instinct in you roaring to obey your now boss's instructions. The feeling of disgust ran through your body at the realisation of what you'd just performed despite it being your job area now. It wasn't the fact you'd pole-danced it was the secluded room and the song that made your body squirm.

The redhead seemed to thrive in amusement on that power and you weren't sure whether the heat that ran to your core was feelings you wished you didn't have or anger that turned into the feeling of lust, perhaps both. Her hand tightened on your chip ever so slightly to the point you thought her nails may cause intends within your skin, marking like a hot poker within it.

"Oh no, none of that. You use words to me okay? So do you understand dorogaya?" her tone showed no time from you for disagreement.

"Yes, I understand Miss. Romanoff," your voice was strong and assertive despite inside your body was a mess of sweat and utter chaos.

Natasha leaned back, stretching her arms across the couch staring at you for a moment before taking her lip between her teeth, clamping down hard. The sight was enough to send a hot gush of wetness between your legs and your mind screamed at you in retaliation, she was your boss. Her teeth gently let her lips go with a pop before standing up and walking up to the door, swinging it open with ease staring back at you with an expected look.

"Good girl," she whispered out her lips tilting up dangerously as your fixed your tousled hair that had become slightly damaged from dancing.

Your body reacted once more to the words almost jolting in response, but you did well to keep yourself refrained and intact. Instead you simply grabbed your belongings nodding towards the woman and headed straight for the main exit. Perhaps the acts you were prepared to partake in was deemed as sinful and immoral, you wouldn't give so much as a glance if they were. It felt like the devil was standing their glaring into your soul and you didn't care for anything else other than entering the gates and feeling the flames wrap around your body.

The next evening went as smooth as it could, the blasting of the music as your body danced in between of time to the tunes. Your personal favourite was the one's that went sensual before picking pace as it allowed you to do your signature moved before flaunting around people in a seductive manner. You'd thrived on how the men and women gawked at your, eyes popping out of their heads, drooling from the mouth like you were a treat they had to have.

Fellow colleague's had taken up on asking advice, specifically your new favourite Wanda who you added on further inspection was quite a looker. The way she'd bounce her brunette curls around her face as she danced into the night like nobody was watching always had you admiring her.

She herself had wanted tips from you, always seemingly interested by your dancing to the way you move on a pole, her eyes always lingering in sheer awe and amazement as though you personally had placed each star drifting through the sky. Yet, you always felt another pair of eyes, heavy and dark lingering in the shadows.

It was the type of shadow you'd spent your whole life hiding within but this aspect was dangerous. It felt cold mixed with fire alike, bonding in ways it shouldn't mix. The soul being ice and chilled to the bone with fire in the centre waiting to burn itself from the ground up. You constantly sensed the lingering eyes on your body but chose to ignore it, for you knew the consequences of the danger, you knew who those eyes belonged to you just couldn't face them to admit it.

It continued for the next week until Saturday came faster than anticipated. Your legs carried you through the building with ease and a sense of calm now almost as though you'd been there for years. In reality you'd become rather content with the building of Desiring ignition. You'd scarcely interacted with Natasha though, (thank god.)

It wasn't the exact concept of fearing the woman, no it wasn't that. It was the way she made you feel. It was like feeling towards the devil, it's forbidden you see red with anger, lust the picture painted of danger and intoxicating aroma.

You'd done well in avoiding the older woman but she did appear to be making it easer than anticipated, despite knowing the one hiding in the shadows, lingering not wishing to be seen but knowing you felt her presence seemed to enough for the older woman.

You had settled on something different this time, usually not opting for dresses preferring to dress loose but certainly stylish all the same. However this time, you'd decided to rock the boat and you weren't sure why.

Instead you'd settled on a deep emerald green, darkened than usual but curved around your body clinging in all the right ways. The anticipation and adrenaline of the reactions you'd receive left your mind racing, despite not wanting to show anything off entirely. Definitely not for her..

Directing yourself towards the bar, you walked over greeting who you'd now become accustomed to know as Bucky. He actually was opposing to what you expected after your encounter on the first night, he was just hesitant of newcomers. Instead now you'd become close to the man always offering a term of greeting.

"Same as usual?" He questioned winking as you both knew it was wrong to drink on the job.

Albeit it was hardly your fault, when it came to this job and work environment you'd hardly be faulted for having the odd drink to get by. Most days we're enjoyable, the women ogling over you and many wanting to touch what their desired hearts couldn't reach, like seeing a pebble in the ocean before the sea carries it out, perfectly sculpted but not yours to own.

Your lips curved up into a smirk filled with fire and mischief, the look of mystery plastered all over your face. Not a word spoken, your head nodded into his direction and Bucky nodded once in return. His body moved swiftly, preparing a small yet rather what the average person would deem an intoxicating strong drink for yourself as he slid it over.

Taking your drink you sipped away at it as you made your way onto the floor, seemingly into the sea of people. It was busy & you only knew it was going to get busier. Besides; you had an hour to kill before even remotely starting your shift so you might as well busy yourself.

It started simple, sitting down mingling with guests, eyeing up who was necessarily your desire for the night. All you needed was the money, even with the weighing guilt that sometimes poured over your head you needed to make your way into the world.

God only knows how you'd found yourself onto the dance floor, one moment you were sipping on your drink waiting for the beginning of your shift the next you were dragged onto the dance floor by a taller and seemingly older brunette. Her hands were dragging across your waist causing your face to flush.

Were you sure you were entirely within protocols here? Not at all, yet there was no rules you couldn't dance with the paying guests before your own night began. Though you were indeed certain Miss. Romanoff may cause some issues with this.

Alcohol wasn't even the reason for your confidence, it felt like something was drawing you to push boundaries that night to tempt yourself into desired that you shouldn't cross. You could say you don't bring your guests into the bedsheets like you do your demons but as the brunette's hands grazed across your stomach for a moment you short circuited.

You found your head tilting an angle towards Bucky's direction who was eyeing you with a concerned expression painted upon his face. His frown that narrowed through his forehead, eyes giving a dangerous tone, almost trying to warn you.

Still, you shrugged it off instead allowing the touch of another burn your skin though whether it was a burn of desire or the burn of hell you weren't sure. You were playing with the fires of lucifer here & partially enjoying yourself. Lips grazed slightly over your neck, almost allowing you to loose yourself instantly without a sudden care or thought.

People were silencing around you within beats of the music, like a chill had passed down from a frost bite. They were parting like royalty had arrived themselves, but you were completely unaware in your own mindset in your own thoughts.

Lips grazed your neck sloppily, yet it burnt like an ignition hell fire in your skin. Yet your mind was dancing somewhere else or better yet, someone else. It was like someone snapped a finger, as within a second like you'd blinked an eye and the warmth from behind you disappeared.

Widening your eyes, you opened them but a hand snatched you spinning you straight into a body. You stumbled forward legs like jelly, hands still shaking with adrenaline as their perfume invaded your senses. It was a sexy perfume smell no doubt, the aroma making it's way into your nose poisoning you. You'd almost breathed in, wanting more of the intoxicating taste of it, yet that wouldn't be ve-

Shit. Shit, shit shit.

If your suspicions were correct, which you were highly convinced they were then the perfume and the person you'd been dragged into was someone you dreaded finding you in that compromising position. A whisper drew you from the dread in the pit of your stomach and your stressing mindset as they leaned towards you.

"Enjoying yourself darling?" The voice carried the familiar edge you dreaded.

The feeling of bile rose in your throat from sheer anxiety and you gulped hard to keep yourself at bay. Slowly looking up, your eyes met the all too familiar green ones.. One's you could get lost in and fantasise about consi-

No, not to be thought of right now.

Her eyebrows were arched consistently and the familiar look of a stern facial expression was painted on your Boss's, Miss. Romanoff's face. Her lips were painted a blood deep red and the blush on her cheeks were making your legs like jelly, let alone your stomach's feeling of somersaults.

"I..." Stuttering voices was all you could muster right now.

A swift finger placed on your lips was all it took for your cheeks to hear up and you were certainly an embarrassing jumble of mess in front of her and everyone around you.

"Shh," her voice carried an authoritative tone but you were almost certain you could sense a lace of.. jealousy?

Surely that was an impossibility; she had nothing to be jealous about besides she was your boss, albeit a damn sexy one. Reality hitting back to you slowly you sensed the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and wanted in that moment for the ground to swallow you whole.

Gone was that confident attitude you easily found yourself mustering up to her, instead replaced with a timid jealous woman wanting nothing more but to run for your life. Your eyes didn't dare leave hers despite their sea of pure intensity and fire, though you didn't think you were capable of looking away even if you tried to.

A quick flick of her hand could be seen from your peripheral vision and as if someone had press play on a remote, the crowds resumed. Colleagues danced on laps, poles and bar stools while the noise resumed like they'd been frozen in time.

Before you even had the chance to speak, you were spun back around rather forcefully. However rather than letting you go, her hands yanked you flush against her chest, allowing you to feel her radiant body heat and the heat to come back to your cheeks once more.

Hands roamed over your body while her lips moved to your ear, a sultry almost lustful voice following suite.

"Well well, what was that little stunt hm? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for private shows not giving a full on public display of borderline sex," she snapped though her hands still cupped your hips.

"I.. I can explain..."

Her hands cupped your clothed cunt causing you to cut your sentence off and gasp out. Embarrassingly, your body jerked forward into her hand showing how putty you were, easily giving into your boss.

"No, no I don't think so. You wanted a public stunt like that hm? Who's breasts are these?"

Her hand moved up to cup them, needing them through your dress causing you to almost cry out. You couldn't lie, you were grateful for the atmosphere being so loud and disoriented otherwise you'd have cried out from sheer embarrassment.

"M-Mine," you whispered through a half gasp earning you to feel her knee rub you subtly once more in your lower region.

"Wrong answer, don't get it wrong again hm?" She said through semi-gritted teeth and your body melted back into her.

Unsure of the adrenaline you had coursing through your veins you spun around and found some form of confidence in you to cup her own lower region.

"Yours," you whisper-shouted back due to the strength of the music, though your voice partially wavered.

It was obvious she was caught off guard through the sheer surprise that danced like the force of nature the wind dancing with the trees on a stormy night. Miss.Romanoff's lips tilted upwards into a smirk and without a word or a warning her hand clasped onto yours and you were being pulled swiftly down corridors.

Everything seemed to pass you buy in a blur as you had no recollection of one door to the next, nor did you dare to look at any faces glancing and gawking your way. Simply you decided to be an obedient little thing and follow Miss. Romanoff towards wherever she was leading you.

Suddenly, you came to a halt in front of a locked door slowly coming to the realisation this was Miss.Romanoff's personal room; no one was ever allowed to enter. A surge of some sort of excitement flooded the course of your veins in some way as she led you through.

Locking it behind her she pointed to her own personal chaise lounge and you obediently followed her instructions like a lost puppy, almost falling over your own feet to get to it. A low chuckle left her lips sending chills upon chills down your spine and embarrassingly hitting your core (that was probably now soaked.)

"Miss Romanoff I don't know if this is-"

"Natasha," she cut you off instantly smirking at you.

You gawked at the older woman like she'd just spoken in a foreign language. However she brushed it off, slowly approaching you like an animal would it's prey. Lifting your chin up she grinned down at you like a cheshire cat before huskily speaking.

"Call me Natasha. Though I'd also prefer to be called a different name, can your pretty little brain think of what that is?" She asked lustfully.

Gulping you had a smart idea, but didn't want to ask a stupid question. So you kept your mouth shut but apparently Natasha had other idea's towards your 'misbehaviour.'

"Colour," her voice was softer for a moment only by a slight tone but you sensed it.

It almost made you crack for a moment and come to your senses. An employee couldn't- shouldn't sleep with their boss. Yet, as you believed earlier the devil was technically an angel first and you wanted to touch the fire, you wanted her to touch you. However, it was evidence you were taking too long as you'd received an arched eyebrow and she grabbed you firmly by the chin awaiting her answer.

"Green but.. this is wrong you're my.."

A gasp cut you off as she placed her lips instantly on your neck biting down hard before sucking. You felt Natasha's lips trail up and down biting an area she could, knowing instantly it was going to leave a mark. Moans elicited past your lips as you found your head slowly adjusting to give more access.

She sucked and nipped at your skin like her life depended on it, it was intoxicating. She was starting a fire within you no one else could ever ignite. Natasha kissed her way back up to your face before whispering sultry into your earlobe.

"Now you want to keep your job don't you, you want to be a good girl for me?"

"Y-Yes I do Natasha," you went to move your hands in her hair when you felt something restrict you.

A deep blood red-handcuffs the same shade as her hair was holding you back and your eyes widened in realisation. The demon's in your head were fighting with each other as you felt her clamber her way into your lap.

"Now.. you're going to behave for mommy aren't you?"

She grinned at you arching an eyebrow while her plump red lips glistened under the dim lights. You couldn't bring yourself to respond to Natasha, you felt your stomach twisting in knots at the word and your brain go fuzzy.

Restriction on your neck caused your airways to tighten slightly, not too much but the pressure sent a heat to your core you didn't know could happen. She frowned at you sternly, a small crease of annoyance in between her forehead that you found dangerously hot and cute at once.

"Don't make ask twice detka, you should know in the time you've worked for me I hate repeating myself. Now be a good slut and respond."

Not wanting to face the consequences of hell knows what she'd do you nodded instantly a feeling of nervousness that was fuelled by desire and lust rising within you.

"Yes mommy, I'll behave. I promise!"

Your response pleased her, yet your brain didn't have much time to respond as a loud groan escaped your lips. The buzzing sensation pressed against your panties sent you spiralling into oblivion. Natasha captured your lips with her own, red lipstick smearing your own with a kiss, sealing your fate. Signing your soul to the devil seemed like a fate that could send anyone into a panic, but when it was Natasha Romanoff, it was pure bliss.

"Your moans are a delight to my ear sweet girl," her whispers against your lips only spurred you on further.

You found your hips grinding down against the toy your bottom lip become broken and bruised from how hard you were biting it. A small slap to the thigh sent you jolting as you looked up to see Natasha's stern look.

"You move when I tell you to move slut," she slurred out high on lust and desire and you felt a spiral of wetness shoot down to your glistening pussy that was most definitely dripping with desire.

You felt the pressure of the toy increase levels and it took you everything not to cry out in absolute ecstasy but the overwhelming stimulation, it was so intense your toes could curl.

"You're already coming undone are you for your mommy?" Natasha bit down slightly on your ear lobe her fingers trailing up to your throat once more as she whispers into your ear.

"When you lay down on the chaise lounge you'll be screaming my name tonight darling. Yet, did you honestly think that you could get away with that game Y/N?" Her voice dragged down your body as quickly as possible.

Teeth sunk into your skin, nipping sucking and licking into the depths of every single area Natasha could reach. You hands tried to fling over your mouth to muffle your moans, yet your restraining handcuffs brought you back to reality.

"They'll hear Na- Mommy," Your slip-up didn't go unnoticed as a slap to your thigh and a hard bite on your chest caused a cry out from your lips.

"Let them hear you. You wanted a show, I have every intention of giving you one."

Before your thoughts could catch up to your lips a rip echoed through the room as a strength had come from the redhead herself. Gasping as she put some pressure on your clit the intense feeling driving your body into an overwhelming feeling.

As her fingers pressed against your puffy lips you knew instantly you were getting addicted to the feeling; the ignition pushing you towards Natasha's capture. She was easily trying to capture her pray within you and you'd stupidly let her.

"Please.. I need more," You pleaded your brain foggy with lust and utter craving for Natasha in every way possible.

With a single flick of a switch you felt her turn the toy to maximum levels before her fingers were swiftly replaced with a lapping tongue. The cuffs that felt like chains kept to a wall yanked down as you tried to touch.

She spat on your clit and you felt the shit eating grin pass her lips as Natasha heard the familiar sound of tugging from them. Instead she tutted and her eyes grazed up connecting with your own, purposely dragging her tongue up your slit making you cry out from the intensity.

"You're a good girl aren't you hm? Taking your boss so well. Imagine if I got to do a public show with you.. God the way the crowds would go wild as I fucked you over and over again," Natasha lulled against your pussy.

The images dancing through your brain was sinful, absolutely disgusting to others but for some reason like you were trapped in a cage of sex you didn't care. Magic was a dangerous power and a dangerous curse yet she wheeled it all within this room, your body and your mind, your essence and soul.

As she shoved her tongue into your entrance another cry of intense joy, you weren't sure lust most definitely past your lips. Her free hand moved up to your breasts massaging the buds between her tips, sending you without permission releasing your juices all over her tongue.

Ms. Romanoff pulled back and the look on her face was not one of an impressed look, though that didn't stop her tongue swirling around her mouth getting the remaining taste left. That action alone sent another wave to your core despite the overwhelming feeling and you felt your legs like jelly simply from one round.

"Did I say you could cum?" Her voice was stern, boomed against the contrasting atmosphere of what the stench danced with sex, and sweat, desire and fire.

"I.. I didn't me-"

"Did. I. Say. You. Could. Cum?" She repeated her voice was filled with such an authoritative tone sending your mind back to your original meeting.

Had it not been for the handcuffs and the familiar stern look and not wanting any more disapproval from Natasha, you'd have coward away from embarrassment. Instead you shook your head wondering what on earth you'd gotten yourself into it wasn't like you were bound together but.. part of you lived from the excitement; she was a devil, demon of angel and hell with the need to feel her touch.

"No.. No Miss.Romanoff, you did not." Your voice rasped out exhausted from screaming already.

She stood up no word uttered and she disappeared around the back, leaving you to your thoughts for a moment. It felt like you were fucking with the goddess herself, but was it sanity? Was it safe to be sharing sheets and secrets behind closed doors? Possibly not, but her blood-red lips and curves of her body made it impossible not to fall into. A trap of love or lust, it wasn't even known to you within that sight, just the devil herself you'd taste it every-time.

A song brought you from your dancing curious thoughts, one that sent your body ice-cold and your eyes widening instantly. A song called 'Pray' You'd become one to recognise. It was a favourite with your regulars at the club. Except you hadn't quite realised Natasha herself had noticed, but you'd been proven quite wrong.

On the contrary, Natasha walked in with a thick deep red strap-on, one that was already wet ether with her spit or something else it was unknown. But, she knew and had seen it caused a rage in her she hated herself for. Yet, she had to have her way with you.

"Sit back," she ordered pleased instantly you'd complied with no sudden refusals or hesitation.

Without a warning she flung one leg over your body joined by the other leg, until she was sat in your lap straddling you. Instantly, a gut feeling surged through your veins flying through every pulse point sending a fire and ice in one through your very skin. Your suspicions were confirmed when she slowly started to move her hips on you with the strap on.

A lap-dance. A lap dance by Natasha Romanoff, your boss the fucking owner of Desiring ignition. Better yet it was with a strap on.

Her hips moved in a motion not even the most poisonous temptations of the world could, but Natasha out-beat them all. Her hands moved down her body over her hips and you watched in amazement as she began to thrust onto your leg while dancing like a majestic queen. Her moans spilled past her throat, giving you everything you desired sipping her up.

Your hands begged to move and your pussy pulsated allowing some juices to spill out. Your eye's pleaded with her to undo the cuffs but all you'd received in return, was a tut and a small pressure to your throat.

"You can touch soon detka. I'd like to have my fun now. Do you know how long I've waited to have my way with you?" She whispered her hips shaking and thrusting to the beat of the music.

"N-No," you answered honestly to mesmerised by her movements to figure out an answer.

"Since you first walked into that door. I needed you away so I didn't tempt myself with the cup of sinfulness, one that I shouldn't lead by. Yet, when I saw you dance.. Oh my sweet little slut. You were perfect. I needed to ruin all of you," she husked out shaking her strap slightly.

You almost came right from the scene in front of you, gaining your own kind of friction from her strap. However while the music beat sped up one lyric spurred her over the edge and caused her to break the chains of control, fly up from hell and take her prize.

'When she lays down to pray at night.. She'll be screaming my name.'

Something about that song lyric sent Natasha spurring forward and her hips bucked against your lap causing her to cry out in ecstasy. Her hands reached up undoing the cuffs breaking the barrier as your hands finally touched her hips, her olive silky skin feeling beautiful under your finger tips.

Her fingers suddenly managed to make their way underneath her body with a precision that seemed impossible to you and slammed themselves into your now over-stimulated pussy. You cried out in part-pain and mainly bliss the coil in your stomach building up.

She worked you like wonders themselves couldn't work the song blaring in the background. Natasha still continued to give you a lap-dance of sorts but mainly focused on getting the two of you off and fingered you hard and fast, her hips meeting some sort of thrust.

"Scream my name," left her lips and that's all it took.

The coil in your stomach snapped and you came once more all over her fingers, legs shaking and your eyes pooled with tears of joy from how incredible it felt. Natasha followed suite from the sight and the friction cumming all down her strap and some spilling onto your lap causing yourself to groan.

However, she had an ungodly amount of adrenaline pounding through her system as she clambered of your body leaning over your lips and throat demanding one thing of you.

"Suck."

Her voice was raspy sending a pool of wetness shooting down once more and you felt yourself let out some dripping juices by accident. You instantly took the strap on gagging on it as she shoved it deeply in your throat. Looking down, the sight was enough for Natasha to cum right there and then but she held it.

She wanted you to gag on her strap, shut your pretty little mouth up as she took in the sight of what was hers. Her sinful prize, her desired need was sucking her cock so well it was a bliss to see. Hearing you gag she rubbed your pussy once again causing you to cry out the stimulation being too much, yet Natasha ignored you.

She ignored you until your hips jerked up once more being greedy and desperate for her fingers or strap-on and she smirked in sheer delight. She'd made you putty in her hands. You didn't care anymore the manipulation of her job had worked wonders in your mind making it hazed with fuel of her touch and knowing only she could make you like this.

Clambering down, no warning was given as her cock suddenly found your puffy and over-stimulated entrance and her eyes drifted down. Natasha groaned at the sight, how ruined and how messy you were, wetness seeping down your thighs.

Not wanting to waist another minute, her cock slammed into you thrusting hard not giving you any time to adjust. Her lips moved fast and at a ferocious pace causing animalistic like grunts to leave your lips. Your mind danced with her and only her, it was like she'd made her mark engraved her and only her within it and you'd take it all, drink all of her and whatever she'd give you.

Sloppy slapping sounds hit the four walls of the room and her lips slammed into yours as she bit on your bottom lip. Your now free hands, moved into her hair tugging lightly causing a growl fit from an animal that could kill within seconds. Natasha kissed harder, hips slamming down without a single care and you felt yourself becoming close.

"Please.."

She grinned against your lips and you knew what was going to happen then and there. Your boss had won the game of the life time, her prize possession and puppet.

"Cum on mommy's cock like a good little stripper hmm? Let me take all of you," she husked out giving a particular hard thrust.

With that your juices hit her strap-on hard, flowing out of you like a river itself your mouth screaming her name while your body shivered. Hands clawing at her back now the sight was enough to send her spiralling, leaving you just enough time to recover to see the sight.

Her back arched, releasing her own as she had her eyes closed lips partially opened and skin slick with sweat and cum mixed from both of your spots.

Your eyes shut themselves sheer exhaustion taking in and all that could be heard was panting breaths in the room. It was as she leaned down you'd known how badly caught in the trap of lust you were with your own boss, her whispers filling the room.

"I've caught my own trap now, the devil got her prize. And I am far from finished with you yet, mommy's little stripper slut."

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #dark!natasha romanoff #stripclub owner!natasha romanoff #marvel fic #marvel

2K notes · View notes

puck-luck · 1 day ago

Note

luke x older reader anon again! congrats on 1k! submitting the same request, with hearts and prompt 25 🫶🏻

warnings: unprotected p in v, age gap (not major.), religious themes & motifs, pining, childhood friends to lovers vibes, best friend's brother ofc, jealousy, occasionally insecure statements from luke, really just the sweetest sex you can imagine. i LOVED writing this. hence... the length.

WC: 4,351

You’ve been friends with the Hughes boys as long as you can remember. The first time you met Quinn, it was during your first pee-wee skate.

Your dad was a big hockey fan, so he wanted to teach you how to skate. The debate had been between figure skating and hockey– your mom loved gymnastics, dance, and figure skating, having been an artistic athlete herself. Your dad wanted you to skate regardless, but hockey felt more suited for your talents. You were a competitive child– and territorial over your toys– so your dad thought it would translate well into a hockey environment.

He took you to the Olympics in Salt Lake when you were three years old. You went to see figure skating and two of the United States hockey games– one for the men and one for the women. To your dad, it wasn’t a surprise how your eyes grew into saucers when you watched your first live hockey game.

He’d enrolled you in peewee skate the following week. There were no girls-only leagues, so you were put into a coed league. Quinn was in the same league. You became very fast friends– you liked to talk, your new little buddy liked to listen, and then you finally got him out of his shell midway through the season and your friendship was fully cemented. Actually, the second you learned his last name was Hughes– like Sarah Hughes, who won the Olympic Gold in single’s figure skating when you were in Utah– he was stuck with you. Just because you’d preferred hockey didn’t mean you didn’t love ice skating, too. It just wasn’t your passion.

You and Quinn stayed in touch after that peewee hockey season, enrolling in the same league and requesting to be on the same team until you both graduated into the boys- and girls-only leagues. You still remained friends, staying in contact as best you could when he moved to Toronto. You’d send letters back and forth and you became a pro at interpreting Quinn’s boyishly terrible handwriting. He’d tell you about his brothers, his parents, his school, and his hockey teams. You’d keep him updated on home, but then it stopped being home to Quinn. Soon enough, you were only talking about hockey and family. ‘Did you see that Crosby won the Hart Trophy?’ ‘Yeah! Ovi got the Calder though, so we’re still on even playing field. Canadian boy.’ ‘Hey, Ovi is Russian. Choose a real American and get back to me.’

It wasn’t long until you secured an invitation to visit the Hughes during the summer. You and your family went up to Toronto to visit them and you got to play with the Hughes boys for a whole week. It was so much fun, so the next summer, you begged to invite them to your place for a week.

The tradition continued for years, alternating houses and hometowns. You and Quinn both applied to Michigan– he played hockey, you did not. You were a good player, but you’re more of a beer league girl. You weren’t recruited to play college hockey– which, for a while, you thought was weird, because there are so few female hockey players in America. You’re hoping that your lack of recruitment means that there are hundreds of amazing women who are better than you at the sport, and that helped you accept your fate. After all, Quinn would sometimes bring you to the rink when it was empty. You’d get to play for a little while– and it was nice, in college, to have someone who knew you so well.

A lot of people assumed that you and Quinn were together, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Quinn was like your brother. There was that weird month when you were thirteen and you’d gone to visit him over the summer and you’d thought, maybe… but it turned out that you were just thirteen and confused because of your rampant hormones and puberty. Quinn is just your friend, your best friend.

All of the brothers were pretty off-limits. You’d seen the way girls had started flirting with Jack as he’d entered his teens. You’re able to admit that he’s a cute boy. Luke was an absolute sweetheart, always trying to play with Quinn (and, by extension, you) as you’d grown up. You felt so fond of Luke in a ‘look at how precious he is, I need to protect him’ sort of way.

And then, last night at the lake house, he’d helped you line up a shot in pool and kept his hand on the small of your back when you bent over the table, and your mind had been spinning ever since.

You can’t tell Quinn, obviously. That’s his baby brother. You’re not even sure how you feel about it– Luke’s always been your little buddy. Now, he’s over half a foot taller than you, so he’s not so little anymore. Still– he’s four years younger than you and Quinn. It’s the equivalent of a freshman hooking up with a senior and you feel icky.

Regardless, you can’t keep your eyes off of him. He likes to twirl his fork between his fingers when he’s done eating dinner. He’ll spread his legs and sit forward when he’s playing video games with his brothers. An absent-minded, crooked smile falls on his mouth every time he’s only half-listening to you or the other boys. It’s paired with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as warm and content. In twenty-four hours, you’ve noticed more things about Luke than you’ve ever seen before.

He’s grown up. It’s still a little weird to you, but he’s 21. You’re still 24, even though your 25th birthday is slowly creeping forward. You find yourself justifying the three year age gap, persuading yourself that it’s fine to look at Luke like that, but then you catch yourself and look away. You’re pushing the idea out of your brain.

But he’s goofy, and cute, and so sweet. He’s the same Luke as always, but you’re seeing him in a brand new way.

You’re able to keep yourself at bay for over a week. The boys throw a party and invite some girls over. Normally, you’re not jealous. You’re calm. You don’t care.

Across the room, there’s a girl flirting with Luke. She’s got a hand on his arm and you’re nursing a drink, seeing red. You’re using Jack as a shield, but you’re still able to look over his shoulder. You think you’re being slick, but it turns out… you’re not.

“What are you looking at?” Jack laughs, tilting his head at you exaggeratedly before turning.

Unfortunately, you know you’ve been found out. There’s only one thing that would have you glowering in such a way. Nothing else in sight is nearly as interesting as Luke and the girl beside him. Jack clocks it right away.

He turns back to you with a tight, knowing smile, like he’s trying to hold back laughter. He pushes his tongue into his cheek and quirks his eyebrows at you.

“Interesting,” Jack says, swirling his drink in his solo cup and then bringing the rim to his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he sips.

You pop the bottom of the cup, making the drink splash into Jack’s face. “Fuck off.”

He wipes his mouth and crosses his arms, cradling the drink in the pocket of his elbow. “You and little Lukey?”

You grind your teeth and glare at him in the most menacing way you can. Jack has known you for too long to be intimidated by your glares. He also never really cared that much in the first place– he’s too shit-eating to be concerned about the repercussions of his words.

Jack smirks some more. “Don’t worry,” he says, popping his jaw like he’s turning a piece of gum over in his mouth. “Your secret is safe with me.”

You clench your teeth and continue glaring. You suck your cheeks in and bite down on the inside of your mouth, lips curling with annoyance.

“You know, he wouldn’t mind if you went over there and staked your claim,” Jack says with a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t think he’d be upset at all.”

“Fuck off,” you repeat again.

“C’mon, Y/N.” Jack pushes your shoulder lightly, jokingly. “You’re being obvious.”

“Quinn’ll kill me. And– it’s Luke, Jack.”

“So what? It’s not weird. We all grew up together. We’re all around the same age. It’s not a big deal. He’s had a crush on you forever.”

“It’s different,” you sing-song. “He’s younger than me.”

“Let’s go, Cougar,” Jack teases, reaching up to high-five you.

You don’t take it, instead deciding to punch his stomach.

Jack doubles over like you actually wounded him, but straightens up smiling. “You oughta go make him jealous.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Dude, I’m serious. Let’s go flirt with Trevor or something. Someone who Luke thinks you’re better than– I guarantee he’ll be over here in a second.”

Jack actually tugs you toward Trevor and explains the plan before you can even get a word in. So much for keeping your secret. Trevor, to his credit, is a very willing subject. He keeps a hand on your waist during the whole conversation and you do your best to ignore the niggling desire to look over your shoulder at Luke.

Turns out, you should’ve been worried about Quinn.

“Get your hands off her, Zegras,” Quinn snaps, pushing Trevor’s hand off of your waist and stepping between you. “You’re not allowed to fuck my friend.”

If that’s how he feels about one of his friends touching you, then you feel a bit faint at the idea of Quinn’s reaction to Luke getting together with you. That might seal the deal– you really can’t fuck Luke.

“I’m not fucking her,” Trevor says. “We’re working an angle here, Quinn.”

Quinn scoffs. “Yeah? What angle is that, Trevor?”

“We’re trying to make Luke jealous, hello?” Trevor says like it’s obvious.

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face in your hands. “Trevor, you fucking moron.”

“What?” Quinn demands, but his look turns into sheer bewilderment. “You’re doing this for Luke?”

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, stomping away.

Trevor, somehow, is free to follow after you. Quinn hasn’t stepped in to stop him. You wish he would. He’s probably too confused. “This is good,” he says. “He’s definitely going to see us going upstairs together. Hold my hand.”

“No.”

“Dude, it was working. Luke was looking over at us the whole time.”

“I don’t care, Trevor.”

“Don’t you want him?”

“Not like that,” you hiss between your teeth. “I don’t want to make Luke jealous. I want him to come to me because he wants to, okay? Go downstairs. I don’t want to be with you right now.”

Trevor holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll go. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You disappear into your bedroom, changing into pajamas and climbing into bed. It’s nice to have your own bedroom in the lake house that Jack and Quinn bought with their NHL salaries, but tonight it’s bittersweet to be able to hear the party going on as you lay in bed. It’s not at all like when you fall asleep during a holiday party and your parents put you to bed, and you can still hear the laughter of the guests in your dreams. Now each bout of laughter reminds you of her, the girl whose hand was on Luke like she already owned him, and you wonder if he’s making her giggle with his stupid corny jokes.

God, last week you didn’t even like Luke. Now you’re burning with jealousy– or maybe it’s the fires from Hell, because you’ve got a completely inappropriate crush on your best friend’s little brother. You can never come back to the lake house like this, at least not until you’ve gotten over this shit. Why are you so affected? It’s Luke, for fuck’s sake.

It’s Luke again when someone comes knocking at your door. You thought it would be Quinn, ready to chew you out or question you extensively about this crush. To your surprise, the problem himself appears.

“You okay?” Luke asks, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. His silhouette is burly and big and you have to close your eyes to shake the pang of emotion that penetrates your chest.

“Just tired,” you reply quietly. “Couldn’t stomach the party anymore.”

“Did Trevor say something to upset you?”

Quieter: “No, Luke.”

He hovers silently. You can hear the cogs in his brain turning. His pitch matches yours when he speaks next, although his tone is much more melancholic than despondent. “Are you mad at me?”

You hesitate for a second too long. You’re not mad, but you’re certainly taken aback by the uncertainty in his words. “No, Luke,” you say again, but this time the pang that goes through your chest is more familiar. You don’t want to upset him. You’ve always wanted to protect Luke from the world, but now you’ve made him unsure and insecure. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Luke asks, and you have to take a shaky breath. He sounds so small. It’s like the time that you didn’t let him ride bikes with you and Quinn to the store, even though he begged, and then he cried and ran to his mom. After seeing Luke’s puffy red eyes and resolute determination to ignore you for the rest of the night, your soda and candy bar didn’t taste as good. In fact, they tasted a bit like cardboard. You ended up throwing half of the bar away and going home early. You swore you’d never make sweet little Luke feel that way again.

“You wouldn’t get it, I don’t think,” you tell him quietly, pushing yourself up in bed and resting on your elbows. You take a deep breath and look at him, sure that he can see the way your chest rises and falls.

Your eyes have adjusted enough that you can see the way Luke’s mouth opens, as if to say something, then closes with a shake of his head. You notice his eyes fluttering towards the corner of your room, removing you from his line of vision. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me,” Luke says, biting his lower lip in a dejected and heartbreaking way. “I get it. I’ll go.”

“Luke,” you sigh. “Don’t be like that.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t wanna talk to me,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not friends like that. I’m not Quinn.”

“Luke.” You push yourself up further, pushing the covers down and criss-crossing your legs. “It’s not that.”

“It’s always that. And if it’s not that, then it’s that I’m not Jack. I just– I don’t want to hear that from you.” Luke shrugs again, always defaulting to that motion when he’s deflecting because he’s big and awkward and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. As if he’s thinking the same thing, you watch him shove his fists in his pockets and keep his shoulders tense.

“Come here,” you request, head tilted and mouth turned down with sadness. You shift your position so that both of your knees are under you and you’re sitting back on your heels. “Luke, please.”

You hold your arms out for a hug, not for the first time in your life, and Luke shuffles over. He takes his time and he refuses to meet your eyes, just stooping down so that he can wrap his arms around your middle. It’s a weird position, given that you’re kneeling on the bed and he’s half-bent over. You can feel the pout and doubt all over Luke’s face, so you reach a hand up to his curls and run your thumb over one of his more perfect spirals. He’s letting it grow out a bit and you like how messy it looks.

“Jack told me something,” you reveal softly, still petting through his hair. Luke stiffens in your arms, but doesn’t pull away. “He said you like me.”

Luke groans and struggles in your grip, even sinking to his knees to try and get out of your grasp. He’s kneeling beside the bed, and you bring your legs around so that he’s situated between them. You keep a hand on his shoulder, the other still playing with his hair. He’s evading your eyes again, looking stoutly at the floor.

“I have feelings for you, too,” you whisper, the admission feeling heavy and wrong and like a knife to the gut. Admittance is the first step, but you just feel silly. “And I don’t really know how to deal with those. You’re– I’ve known you since we were so little, Luke.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Luke says bluntly, a hint of a complaint in his sentence. “You’ve been acting weird because you like me, too?”

“I was upset that there was a pretty girl talking to you,” you say sheepishly. “And I just didn’t want to go along with Jack’s plan. He wanted to make you jealous. Thought that would work.”

“I’m always jealous when you talk to another guy,” Luke tells you like it’s obvious. “I just, kind of, gave up. I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me. I thought I’d get over it. Stupid childhood crush, you know.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding that you yourself just experienced a similar line of thinking. You said you’d get over it, but you don’t really want to. Not right now, at least, when Luke’s sitting in front of you and he’s got a tentative hand on your calf, rubbing his thumb over the muscle and staring up at you with big eyes. You bite your lip, trying to think logically about this, but all you can do is examine Luke’s features like you’ll never get to see them again. Maybe you won’t– not like this. Not in this liminal space between something and nothing. This is one of those moments that you know won’t last– because the next one will change everything. So, for a moment longer, you just reach out and run your thumb along Luke’s cheekbone, eyes flickering between his cheek, his lips, and his eyes.

“What do we–” Luke loses his words and presses his lips together, looking up at you, expression completely tortured. He turns his head and kisses the side of your knee, which makes your heart split a bit more.

“I don’t know,” you admit. You wish you had a better answer for him. You truly aren’t sure what you can do from here. There are too many things to consider– so you won’t consider them at all.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Luke asks.

A fond burst of laughter escapes from your chest. “Lukey, this is a twin bed. We can’t both fit.”

A pout comes over Luke’s face again. “We can too,” he insists, furrowing his brow a bit. “I’ll prove it. Move over.”

He’s climbing into your bed before you can tell him no. His long and spindly limbs are coaxing you to lay back, then warming you as he holds you tight. It’s a tight squeeze, but that just means that you’re touching him everywhere. It’s nice and you suddenly wish you were facing him, so you roll awkwardly in his arms until you’re face to face. Your noses are nearly touching and Luke is staring at you, really taking you in.

Your eyes find his lips… and then he’s leaning in.

It’s charged with tension and electricity, but it’s soft and hesitant. Neither of you want to test the boundaries and you don’t think this feels quite real. Your stomach is swooping with bats, not butterflies, and it’s exactly what you wanted. This is what you expected when you found yourself imagining kissing Luke this past week, even if you shook yourself out of it because it felt inappropriate. Here, it feels so right that you swear you could start crying from relief. You’ve never felt that way before from just a kiss. Your chest could burst.

When he pulls away, you feel frozen in time. Your eyes are closed and his lips are right there, a hair’s breadth away. You swallow, touching his chest, palm flat.

“Was that okay?” Luke asks.

You nod, then slide your lips over his again.

You come together in a way that can’t be described as anything other than desperate. Your hands touch him in any way they can and Luke’s do the same. You move in tandem like you’ve got a language of your own– an indignant hum from you followed by a sweet “I know” from Luke before he touches you exactly the way you want.

Kissing the whole time, Luke gets you on your back. Your lips only part to remove your shirt, then his. Luke’s big hand cradles your jaw and neck, keeping your head and mouth exactly where he wants them. He guides you with a surprising amount of experience and sureness, although maybe he’s fueled by the same feeling of rightness as you are.

He opens you on his other hand, snaking his hand into your pajamas shorts because he can’t be bothered to remove them. His hips roll against your thigh, his long torso displacing your pelvis from his as he kisses you. He’s big– you knew it height-wise, but now you can feel him against your leg, and you want him to fill you. You want him to claim you, to take you– you want to give all of yourself to Luke. It’s madness and though you’re sure you’ve lost your mind, the crack in your chest that pours out love for Luke has taken control of your body.

After three fingers and a lot of whimpering from you, clutches at Luke’s hair and bruising kisses working in tandem with your noises, Luke works your shorts down. He breaks from your lips so that he can take you in beneath him. He touches your waist and the curve of your stomach, the one that you cringed at for so many years as a teen but finally accepted in your grown age.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, eyes portraying nothing but sincerity.

You can’t say anything to that, nothing that can match his utterly genuine sentiment or portray how grateful you are that he took the time to say those words, so you kiss him again. You muster up an embarrassingly wanton ‘please,’ which you draw across his lips like a paintbrush.

You can’t get enough of saying his name as he presses into you, his heavy body blanketing yours. You can feel his every muscle move as he works into you and you’ve never felt more like a masterpiece. There were times when you made fun of the phrase ‘making love,’ but sex with Luke feels intensely like you’re creating something tangible by coming together in this way.

The moans and cries that you’re trying to stifle so that no one comes barging in should be enough to convince Luke that this is everything to you. Sweet, sweet Luke– he seems choked up when he says, “They can’t fuck you like I can.” He says the sentence like he has to prove it to you, like you’re not falling apart under his touch. He pleads with you between the words, in the spaces where you can see his breath hitch in his throat.

You’re still not sure where this night will leave you tomorrow morning. Everything, everything has turned on its head. Somehow, you feel a bit like you’ve been leading up to this for a while, not just in the past week. Luke knew it before you did.

“No,” you agree, touching his cheeks and keeping his eyes on yours. “They can’t.” You kiss him briefly, feeling his tongue swipe into your mouth before you pull away. “I’m yours.”

Luke actually keens at that, his arms straining as he shifts his weight to fuck into you harder. Because you’re so close, the bed isn’t moving enough to bang against the walls or creak on its boxsprings, and you’re glad. This is a moment for just you and Luke– you don’t want anyone hearing. You don’t want anyone to be around. You hope that they’ve all miraculously disappeared and you and Luke are the last people in the house, maybe even on Earth.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Luke repeats, his forehead meeting yours. You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale, his breath automatically syncing with yours. You’re overwhelmed, but deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice reminding you about an ancient tradition in Polynesian culture where forehead-to-forehead contact and breathing together is sacred, like you’re sharing the breath of life– like there’s some power in the universe, a god or many, clicking things into place.

He unravels first, fucking you through his release with urgence akin to the sentence he said before. Always trying to prove himself– but Luke has always been enough for you. Maybe not always in this way, but now, there’s nothing he can do to shake your favor. All of the feelings in your heart have been poured out, shared and mixed with his own, and it’s created a puddle– or a bubble– around the pair of you.

It’s been written that sex is when two people come together as one. You finally understand what they mean, joining Luke in the seas of ecstasy.

Sweet nothings and touches like worship follow. Your hands can’t get enough of Luke’s strong figure. He runs his fingertips along your body like he’s in awe of your figure, like he gets to touch a statue so lifelike and beautiful that he can’t believe it was ever a block of marble at all.

The concerns about what will happen tomorrow don’t exist here, in your dark bedroom with Luke stuck to you like glue. For now, it’s just you. Together, breathing, touching, loving– there’s nothing else that could matter. This is it.

note: i have to work on my grad school app in the coming days, so this will probably be the last blurb/oneshot until i finish the application. but, i might get bored of writing that and could pop in to do another smut piece here and there ;) hopefully i'll chat with y'all soon! but i don't want to rush this grad school app LOL

#puck-luck's 1k celebration #puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes smut #luke hughes blurb #lh43 #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #hockey smut

225 notes · View notes

angorwhosebabyisthis · 5 months ago

Text

tfw you write up meta posts about something that hits home hard for you for Personal Trauma Reasons, and your experiences are very relevant to explaining and discussing that dynamic, but you're also just like. okay how much of this do i want to include without dropping a Huge Trauma Bomb in the middle of a fandom essay lmao

(see: it is really upsetting to me how so much discussion of hermes' situation ignores, glosses over, or straight up mocks how incredibly traumatizing his situation with the animals would be, and not just for 'unfortunately not cut out to work in that job' reasons. the dynamic and attitudes are painfully familiar to me, and i've spent my entire life trapped in or trying to avoid them; it's fucked me up so bad that i do not own, care for, or cohabitate with animals by choice, and my mental health plummets when i have to do it anyway. it's not a janky empathy or bleeding-heart animal rights activist thing, it is awful to be in that position and it is awful because people involved are being pieces of shit, not because you Just Can't Handle It.)

[major cw: irl pet death, abuse, ableism, animal abuse, neglect, and cruelty. just absolutely serial killer shit]

(all of which is probably not too obtrusive of an I Have a Personal Bone to Pick Here to include in a fandom essay. 'this subject is especially raw to me because my piece of shit stepdad killed my elderly cat in an exceedingly cruel, drawn-out way, over the course of late fall up to now, because he knew i couldn't stop him. he has been openly happy to be rid of her, while talking cheerfully about how she's probably dead somewhere by now. he did this because he was annoyed that her litterbox stank when he didn't feel like stepping up to take care of it after i became too physically disabled to do it anymore' is mayhaps a bit much though lmao)

#whosebaby talks #ffxivtag #FF tag #cws in post #generally though major warnings for irl animal cruelty because boy is my meta colored by the fact that i have seen some shit lmao #the salt files #personal stuff #warning: worm grass

2 notes · View notes

utterlyotterlyx · 6 months ago

Text

Written In The Stars

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - As Azriel prepares himself for your wedding day, he recounts the moments where all of his dreams came true.

Warnings - fluff central, slight touch of angst, pining Az, lots of love all round

If there was anything that Azriel was sure of, it was you. It would always be you.

That morning had started the same as any other, although, there were two key differences. The first difference was that his mate hadn’t woken up beside him, and he walked through his memories and smiled at the one where Nesta, Feyre, Mor, and Elain had coaxed you out of the house whilst Amren sternly told the three Illyrians to not interrupt your last night as an unmarried woman or else face her wrath.

Azriel recounted the innocent terror in your eyes and chuckled roughly as the sun warmed his skin, urging him to wake.

Then he noted the second difference to his morning, it turned out that the day ahead wasn’t going to be like any other, and that no day would ever compare to what was to come. It was his wedding day. The day that he married the love of his life, his mate, his reason for existing.

His y/n.

Remembering the past 400 years, it dumbfounded Azriel how the bond hadn’t snapped sooner considering he had spent the better part of those 400 years pining after you, hopelessly in love with you and growing increasingly frustrated at your unawareness toward his affections.

There was no one in the world that was as bright and perfect as you.

They had met you in Windhaven, on a night so brutal that you had never nor ever would speak of it, and it was the only place you could go where your light would blinker. It flashed on your face often. Being the daughter to an Illyrian general meant that you had unfortunately fallen victim to the barbaric act known as wing clipping, and it was something you had worked your entire life to destroy.

Despite it all, you were as radiant as the sun, you were gifted that from your mother, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever think you'd see. Until Azriel that is. There was a certain warmth about you, a gut-wrenching scent of home that Azriel could never quite explain, an aura that pulled everyone around you into serenity and soothed any of their pain.

The day Rhys had figured out that you were an empathic healer was the day he knew that you and Azriel were meant to be. No one could soothe his pain more than you, and when he slept next to you he actually slept. No demons haunted his dreams, every villainous thought evaporated from his mind, and he felt peaceful. Truly peaceful.

Azriel remembered the moment the bond had snapped as if it had only occurred yesterday. It was one of the warmer days of the year and you had insisted upon a family day out, they were too rare even though you all spent the majority of your time together; you had leveraged Tarquin's adoration of you in your collective favour and bagged the family a day on the beaches of the Summer Court, promising that you'd keep a strict eye on Cassian and personally tie him to a pole if he stepped one toe out of line. Azriel had simply chuckled at your might as the words left your mouth.

Summer had always called to you, perhaps it was the sound of the waves, maybe it was the sand between your toes or the salted breeze that drifted by. Whatever it was, it moulded with you. Azriel had never seen you happier actually. The moment the bond had snapped had taken him by complete surprise, you were walking through the water with Nyx in your arms, occasionally dunking the babe in the water and smiling at his wild laughter as he emerged; when Nyx had resurfaced and grabbed your face in his little hands, staring at you like the brightest star in the sky, did the bond snap for Azriel.

Since that moment all he could ever imagine was the image of you with your own child, his child.

Frustratingly, the bond hadn't snapped for you in that moment, which was annoying as it was the perfect setting for it. Azriel dreamt of it when you had all returned home that evening, he dreamt of you feeling the snap and turning around with Nyx bundled up into your arms, he dreamt of your eyes connecting across the beach and the most serene smile etching its way onto your lips before the most joyful giggle passed through them.

But no, the Mother had decided to drag it out for as long as she possible could.

The entire of the Inner Circle had figured it out long before you did, only, you didn't figure it out. Azriel had pretty much screamed it at you after seeing you getting a little too up close and personal with another male during Starfall.

No one could have even tried to compare to your beauty that night, you wore a sheer dress embellished with a thousand crystals, priceless jewels that had been crafted just for you. The Star of Velaris. No one could shine brighter, not if they even wished it, and all eyes were on you and the silhouette of your figure the moment you stepped into the hall that was dressed to perfection at the House of Wind.

All air had left his lungs when his eyes found yours twinkling in the faelight, constellations inking your irises, and he knew then that no matter what he was going to tell you that he was your mate. Azriel was nervous, it was very well known that no one could ever be good enough for you, and he was terrified that you wouldn't accept it; and even more than that, Azriel was afraid that he'd lose you as a pillar in his life altogether.

Rhys had instructed the quartet to play your favourite rendition of your favourite song, it was slow and romantic, a flurry of alluring strides from the violins and crashing crescendos, if you could be a song then it would certainly be that one. Though, before Azriel could ask you to dance with him to the sweet melody, another male had swept in and taken you, curling his digits around the curve of your hip in a way that was meant to be his to do and his alone.

Azriel watched from the side-lines, itching to cut in and bring his plan to fruition, but he couldn't ruin a night made for you, not when you'd gone through so much effort to be the most spectacular thing in the room. Not that you needed to try by any means.

The moment you smiled at the male, so sultry, exposing all of your gleaming white teeth into a smile that could only be described as captivating, did Azriel completely lose his mind. Azriel crossed the dancefloor, gripping your wrist just as you were about to expose your neck to the male who believed he was righteous enough to have you, and dragged you from sight leaving behind the Inner Circle who all exchanged smug knowing looks to one another at the situation at hand.

"Azriel! What are you doing? Will you just stop for one pissing second?!" Your voice reverberated against the walls, you were struggling to keep up with his stalking, the effortless curls Mor had spent the better part of two hours styling whipping past your face in the breeze he was creating. "I swear to the Mother, Azriel. Will you please just slow down?"

It seemed as though Azriel had heard the request and cut his speed by a third, making it easier for you to scramble after him. You had continued to ask him what his problem was as he dragged you through the House of Wind, all up until he pushed through a familiar set of looming doors and pulled you in front of him, taking the opportunity to close the doors upon his own exit onto the balcony.

Looking at you in the moonlight despite your fury made him forget the reason why he dragged you from the party that you had helped Feyre to arrange, the way your dress sparkled in the light made him lose all sense entirely. "Did you drag me out here to say absolutely nothing? If so, I'll just head back to the party," you went to move past him, your fingers barely grazing the doorhandle before he wrapped a strong arm around your midsection and lifted you, setting you onto the ground on the other side of the clearing, "What is going on with you? Did something happen?" When he said nothing you took a step backward, the small of your back colliding with the stone railing keeping you from toppling over the edge, "Az, you're scaring me."

He'd never want to scare you, he fumbled with his words, stuttering out what he needed you to hear, and upon the sound of his insecurity your eyes softened. Tilting your head to the side gently to inspect him further, you hadn't noticed your hair sweep across your back, exposing the skin of your neck to him which almost sent him into a frenzy right then and there.

"You were dancing with him."

Furrowing your brow, you asked incredulously, "Am I not allowed to dance with a male now?"

"No. I mean, of course you are. Just not him."

"Then with who?"

That usual wit was prominent in the way you popped your hip to the side, hand resting on the bone as your temper rose, "You're meant to dance with me."

Scoffing, you turned around to face the open air, noting the flurry of gold from the valley below, turning your head to the side you smiled at the music floating from the ballroom in the grand hall, "I always dance with you, Az."

It wasn't a lie, you always sought Azriel out at these kind of events, even in the comfort of the River House it wasn't odd for Rhys or Cassian to return home to see you and Azriel dancing in the living area to some serene folk melody. The two were the first to know of the bond, Azriel had told them one evening when you had padded off to bed in one of his jumpers that drowned you, a ghosting grin tugged at his lips and he said, "Isn't my mate the most perfect creature you've ever witnessed?"

"It's not enough," Azriel approached you, admiring the way the breeze floated by your figure, sending the tendrils of your curls dancing in the wind that his shadows immediately shot out from his shoulders to waltz with.

A gentle chuckle rolled from your tongue at the act, you had always adored them, and they always found a certain level of peace when with you, just like everyone did. Turning back to him, you leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the hem, "Dancing with you isn't enough? How about all the nights we've fallen asleep next to one another reading? Or maybe all of the dinners we've been out to? Or the thousands of evenings where we've gotten drunk off our asses and gossiped? What about the countless missions we've been on together?"

The ignorance was making his blood boil with need, and he couldn't stop the words from flying from his mouth, "I'm your mate, y/n!"

Your body stilled, your eyes widened in shock, and the tether of your soul swam out to greet his own, curling around it and shuddering in untold delight but you didn't move at the sensation, you hadn't even let out a breath, "I have loved you for 400 years regardless of it, I've loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you all those years ago in Windhaven. I love everything that you have become, everything that you have grown into. It snapped the day we went to the Summer Court, the day you told Cassian that if he misbehaved that you'd tie him to a pole?" A huff of amusement flew from your lips at the memory, Cassian had never been so terrified of you in that moment.

"I was content in waiting for you no matter if it took 4 months or 400 years, I was happy to sit a watch you live your life whilst waiting for it to snap, but I can't stand by and watch another males hands roam all over you. It makes me think the most violent things I have ever thought in my entire existence."

"I didn't want to ruin it for you, but I can't watch another male hold you when I know that it should be me," Azriel strode over to you, cupping your face in his hand whilst his other wound around your own, pulling it your chest and resting your palm over your heart, "I'm yours y/n. Completely, utterly, hopelessly yours. So please say something, anything."

A moment passed, a moment that felt like an eternity to him as he waited for those beautiful lips to make a sound, "You've loved me for 400 years?" Azriel barely heard your question, he lowered his gaze to meet yours, brushing a stray stand of hair behind your ear and grazing the shell of it.

The gates of the bond had flung right open, and all you felt was the pure adoration and certainty of his feelings for you flowing down the tether tying your souls together, it made you feel as though you were floating. Azriel nodded, "And I know that it's impossible to love you more than I do right now, but I know that tomorrow I will, and each day after that."

Furling your fingers into the lapels of the jacket you had picked out for him, you pulled Azriel down to meet your lips in a clash of desperate nips and teeth; his hold strengthened around you, leaning you back into the stone railing and allowing his hands to rest on your neck and the small of your back as he deepened the embrace, moving his lips against yours in a way he was only able to dream of. Parting for air, you smirked against his lips, "I love you too."

Then the skies opened, streaks of starlight soured across the blank canvas of the night, like they were waiting for you both to finish until they put on their show. The citizens of Velaris couldn't stop talking about how it was the most magnificent Starfall they had ever witnessed, and both of you were inclined to agree.

It had made complete sense that the balcony where Azriel had confessed his feelings to you was the same place where you had decided to get married a year later to the exact day.

Mor and Nesta had made sure that the balcony was covered in faelights, Elain had designed a beautiful flower arch of orchids and freshly bloomed cala lilies that Lucien had been instructed to erect that morning, and Feyre was in charge of everything else. Bestowing the title of maid of honour to Feyre was the smartest decision you had made in the entire process, Cassian pouted for three days after she had accepted, but then you had asked Rhys to officiate the ceremony which meant that by default Cassian became Azriel's best man.

The fact that Azriel hadn't seen you for almost a day was driving him insane, he had to be near you each moment he was in the city, and even on missions he would constantly flood the bond with his love for you so that you'd know that he was alright and that he was just as obsessed with you as he was the moment he would leave. Every second you were with one another meant that he had to be touching you, whether it be his fingers grasping the skin of your thigh or pulling you onto his lap so he that could be as entwined with you as possible.

Even when he was meant to be readying himself for his wedding, all he could think about was you, he sent a flow of love and unwavering certainty down the bond and smirked to himself like a bashful schoolboy when the same flood was sent back to him.

"Are you ready to get married, Az? You can still run, no one would judge you," Azriel sent Cassian a warning glare, earning him a small apology in return for the stupid remark. There was no reality where Azriel wouldn't choose you, your bargain tattoo was proof of that fact, a promise you had both made the night you had solidified the bond, a promise that you would always find one another in any lifetime, in any world. One would not exist without the other.

Azriel's suit was impeccable, just how Feyre had ordered it to be, a black open collared shirt and form fitting pants, and a slightly oversized midnight blazer made that way because Feyre knew you'd be asking for it at some point during the course of the night. If Azriel looked this good then he could only imagine how other-worldly you would appear at the end of the aisle.

You had both decided on an intimate ceremony, the Inner Circle only, it meant more to you both that way. But the party afterward would be packed full of friends from across the continent, a rare allowance from Rhys for such a special occasion. Which meant that all of the High Lords were to be in attendance, which meant some very luxurious gifts for you and your to-be husband.

The night was perfect, a soft summer breeze floated through the city from the west, the warm faelights sparkled against the backdrop of the night sky and the golden valley of the city below, illuminating the pristinely bloomed flowers in their collective hue.

Azriel awaited you at the end of the aisle patiently, stood between Rhys and Cassian who were beaming with pride, the latter doing his best to contain his tears. Mor, Amren, Elain and Lucien found their places on either side of the makeshift aisle and all looked back as the door opened to reveal Feyre wearing a beautiful blue-grey gown adorned with crystals embellished into the skirt; she had clearly been crying, and that fact made a silent sob catch in Azriel's throat.

The High Lady approached the arch, smiling brightly at Azriel and blinking away her tears before kissing Rhys on the cheek and stepping off to the side. A gentle song consumed the small quartet that you had insisted upon having at the ceremony, playing the most beautiful rendition of your favourite song, a song that meant a great deal to both of you.

Inhaling deeply, Azriel watched the doors open once more, revealing Nesta with your arm linked through hers, she was wearing the twin dress to Feyre, her hair was unbound down her spine, and she had began crying before the doors had even opened by the way she dabbed a tissue against her cheeks.

Then he found you, your skin shimmered in the faelight, like a star had floated from the sky and brushed against your skin. The dress threatened to make him crumple to his knees, a white long-sleeved off-the-shoulder garment that accentuated every single curve and angle of your form; a thigh high cut in the fabric exposed your calf and that bargain tattoo on your thigh. Then was the matter of the veil, intricately crafted so that the hem resembled tendrils of white shadow, his own shadows reacted instantly, flowing from his body and pecking the hem of it as you drifted up the aisle arm in arm with Nesta.

Nesta hugged you tightly before finding her place beside Feyre, and you turned to Azriel, taking his outstretched hand and stepping up to the dais, "I told you that I'd love you more today," he spoke lowly, just loud enough for you alone to hear.

This time the stars didn't wait for the descent, the moment your lips touched one another, the stars unleashed their joy across the night sky, casting their glow across the entire city and dragging themselves right across the balcony where you stood, showering you and your husband in their love and happiness.

The entire of the Inner Circle danced well into the early hours of the morning, and you were right, inviting the other High Lords did have it perks considering the gifts you had received. But when the party began to die down and the last few souls dwindled in your presence, did Azriel whisk you away back to that balcony where you had both confessed your love a year prior, pulling you close to his body and ensuring that the night at the House of Wind ended doing the thing you loved doing most. Dancing in one another's arms until Azriel scooped you up and carried you back to your shared home on the bank of the Sidra.

It was safe to say that the Inner Circle didn't dare to contact you for an entire month afterward.

Author's Note

Just a little one from me x

515 notes · View notes

storiesoflilies · 2 months ago

Text

as we fall, time is broken

synopsis: from the sea you came to me, and to the sea you shall return, for you cannot hate the place you once called home. w.c: 6.3k.

pairing: vampire!toji fushiguro x vampire!f!reader

warnings: major character death, angst, toxic relationship, allusion to smut, blood consumption, language barrier, pirate vibes, religious themes. sfw but MDNI!

a/n: an extra special fic for the wonderful @bungalowbear this piece is also written as a tribute to ‘the odyssey’ by @lovenona <3

divider / ao3 / playlist / @ficsforgaza

she used to have it all once, and more.

and not so long ago, she even used to dream. maybe she still did sometimes, but it certainly never meant what it used to.

perhaps that is why she came back here all the time, to the place where it all began to try and relive it all again. to turn back time, attempt to break through a metaphysical barrier and maybe – just maybe – she could see him again.

it was a cathartic, toxic, addictive cycle.

this is what pain is. this is what love is.

the rain was coming down hard on the sand, little water angels falling down from heaven to try and comfort her.

(that was a place she could never go.

this was as close as she could get.)

she tipped her neck upwards to the blackness of the night, letting them pass through her like a blessing she could not accept. it was too late for her to be worrying about that now. life had already hurt her so, and she’d already paid her dues. still, she raised her arms above her head, imagining a halo of starlight and moonlight was there.

she was doomed to be here, you see, all alone and trying to make sense of how it all began. like the start of a book she had to keep re-reading over and over again to try and understand the past. she couldn’t give up now, no. no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t, not after all this time.

something was broken, she could feel it.

sighing, she flicked open the cover.

and the memories spilled out onto the weather worn pages again, incoherent inky letters slowly swirling into something legible.

this is the last time, she swore.

(even though,

that is what she said the last time.)

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅

the sea was in her lungs, filling her with salt and death.

(no, not death.

that was already upon her.)

she was washed up on a beach, that much she knew. there was the smell of fresh seaweed and something fishy, and the waves were moving backwards and forwards in their dance. she stayed put, unable to move or do anything at all. the silver sky had its eyes on her, and it seemed to pity her.

no.

calling it silver made it beautiful, and it was not. it was like ashen skin kissed with coal dust, and she pitied it instead.

she tenderly rubbed the wet sand of the shore with her fingertips, feeling its somewhat smooth grainy texture run over her skin, and tried to loose herself in a tender fascination to escape how bone weary she felt. her throat burned ferociously, and her lips were cracked and sore from the salt grains embedded in every groove. she weakly looked up, and did not recognize where she was, or how she got here.

(there was a boat. the smell of oil and rum, and screams of bubbling blood.

she did know, she just did not want to remember.)

her back was to the sky. she could feel the heat of sun bearing down upon her with a vengeance she had never known it could possess. it kept her beaten and downed, unable to do anything at all as the waves rushed over her again and again. the sea was disgusted by her, she thought. and after spitting her out, it was trying with all its might to push her far away from it – a petulant child pushing away it’s dinner.

how very sad it all was.

she just wanted to lay there and dream.

the roaring and crashing of the waves was deafening. it hurt her ears and head more than the sun did, made her deaf to everything else around her.

a squelch on the sand, and hard boot pressed into the side of her cheek.

her salt crusted eyes cracked open.

it was a man.

(no, he wasn’t.

he was just like her.)

tall and built, his hair dark like smoke. she could tell he was strong, it poured from him like wine from an overflowing goblet. it was in his hands and in his eyes of emeralds and forests. there was a green fire in them that could burn her alive if he wanted it to. he looked down at her like she was scum, an ugly barnacle leaching off the bottom of his ship, and she wanted nothing more than to shrivel up into nothingness.

his mouth moved, saccharine words spilling out from between them like honey and lavender.

she thought he sounded like an angel.

but she couldn’t understand a thing.

a green flash of annoyance, and he repeated much more slowly what sounded like a question. the weight of his boot left her cheek, and she clicked her jaw painfully. he pursed his lips, and sighed in a way that let her clearly know she was already an inconvenience to him.

she wanted to cry.

(she could never,

there was no water left in her anymore.)

her voice tried to claw its way out of her dried throat, but nothing more than a pathetic, raspy wheeze came out. he raised a thick brow at her, and something sarcastic flew out of his mouth. what little interest he had in her was quickly waning.

she was to him like sand in an hourglass.

please don’t leave me here like this.

but he had already turned around. she saw the worn leather of his tanned boots walking further away from where she laid in her mausoleum of salt. she almost choked on the shoreline in fear, sputtering as a desperate strength seized her. her fists plunged into the wet sand as she pushed herself up ungracefully, falling almost immediately back in again.

she was a lamb learning to walk, and he was the wolf who had decided she wasn’t even worth his effort.

he stopped and turned, watching her stare up at him with a naive expression and sand plastered on her face.

clearly, he would not be helping her.

and so she got up sluggishly, stumbling through the sand dunes, her legs crisscrossing with every shaky step. every time she fell roughly straight on her chin, he did not budge an inch forward, did not seem to care at all.

and yet, he was still waiting for her.

her spent body was alight with renewed vigor, and the last few steps were easy, like her new body knew exactly what it was supposed to do now. she stood in front of him now, breathing in the scent of leather and his smoke.

was it disgust or pride that was making his lips curl?

his face was marble, beautiful and utterly unreadable. this was a man that did not want anybody breaking through into his soul. she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she slipped through a little crack.

(she was good at that.

after all, that was how she ended up like this.)

he roughly gripped her chin, calloused fingertips scratching her water wrinkled skin. his green eyes became slits that peered into her, trapping her in his spell. she gasped, a wet noisy thing, as she felt herself being pulled under into his depths. he was trying to dull her senses, to keep her dumb and overwhelm her in a dancing forest of kelp to drown her.

but the side of her that was logical and predatory knew that he was testing her. to see if she could resist him or not, to surmise if she could be of some use to him and his purposes after all.

but oh, this feeling.

she teetered dangerously on a knife edge between insanity and mortality, stuck in an infinite loop that was him and his green.

there was only this, them, here and now.

his gaze slid down and settled on her bare chest. she became hyper aware of her own nakedness. something ancient, a feminine violence, stirred her unfeeling heart. she slapped away his hand and bared her fangs of pearl at him.

it was a woeful display really.

she knew it, and he certainly did too.

still, something in it had made him smile.

he offered her his hand like salvation, his palm facing the heavens.

(the first woman from long ago screamed.

you will not survive this – him.)

but she was already dead, and he already seemed to know everything there was to know about her. she had already decided that she would follow him wherever he went.

she slid her palm into his.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅

his name was toji.

he’d pointed a finger at himself, slowly repeating the two syllables between his blood-stained lips until she understood what he meant.

toji.

she swiped her tongue over her teeth, licked her lips, and said it back to him tepidly, like crystal water trickling from a jug. his name was sugar dusted over her cupids bow, the most precious and sweet thing to her. she said his name like a prayer, and he seemed pleased by it.

toji was by far the most interesting creature she had ever encountered. a prince of mysteries, shrouded in royal mist and smoke.

(but he could never be king.

for there was already one, and he did not share.)

even though she had seen much and more of the world, nothing compared to him. not the great glaciers of the poles, for all their silent sorrow and imposing grandeur. not the swarming godly manta rays, nor the iridescent palaces of rainbow coral. not even the green flashes of death when the sun was just beginning to sleep or rise for the day.

and yet, toji had been there in glimpses within all the world’s greatness.

she had just been blind to him.

below the deck of toji’s ship, they lay there on the dusted-covered wooden floor in absolute silence, waiting out their penance. the sun was the vengeful michael, its rays of light a sword of justice, ready to bear down on them. if they dared to even show a sliver of skin during the day, then they would boil and blister and pop until they returned to the refuge of darkness.

toji’s ship was anchored a little way from shore, but far enough that ordinary creatures could not get to it without a boat. it had once belonged to fishermen, she knew because their smell still clung faintly to the wood; of grease and sweat and their catch. the oversized clothes toji had scrounged for her amongst the forgotten treasures on the ship still reeked of them too. the lingering sweet smell of lobster and crab shells still clung to the worn threads, even though they had been disused and covered in dust for perhaps decades.

her body could do things like that now.

it was easy to marvel at her extraordinary changes during those times of silence. how her skin was made of diamonds and moonstone, stronger than it had ever been before. no matter how hard she tried to pierce it, whether with her own nails or sharp bits of metal lying around the ship, nothing could even scratch it. but when she had attempted to use a splintered plank of wood, toji had grappled her before she could blink. the suddenness of it sent her into a hissing, flailing mess, but his overwhelming strength and stern glare in his eyes had stilled her, even frightened her.

she knew then to never try that again.

between the cracks in the boards, she could see far out into the distance. could make out where the world curled, where the sea kissed the land, and the humans that gathered mussels between the rocks. she could even tell how dirty and grimy their clothes were, how soaked they became as the waves crashed into them, and their reddening skin glistening beneath the sun.

her hearing had sharpened too, and she knew that if not for the deafening roar of the sea filling her ears like white noise, she would be able to hear things moving from miles away.

but her favorite thing?

that was to run.

for hours, she would race beneath the ship, from one end to the other, touching the stained wood with her finger tips as she pushed off each wall. toji would sometimes watch her with one eye cracked open, completely unamused. she would not stop running until her throat burned with thirst, fierce and hot. only then then would she would stop, collapsing in a heap on the bare floors, blankly staring up at the decking.

it was then that their silence was all consuming, unbearable.

she couldn’t help but think she had traded her tomb of salt for one of wood. sleep was but a memory of life now, an escape neither of them could indulge in anymore. there was nothing she could do but be consumed by thought and time. she was surprised by just how much she could feel. her veins ran with pure emotion, from the most euphoric joy, to merciless, crushing sadness in the space of a few minutes.

what was her purpose now?

immortality surely had to mean more than being a slave to blood magic.

she imagined what toji thought about. he, perhaps wisely, never moved an inch when he settled beneath the ship, arms crossed behind his thick head of hair. she wondered if he was just as painfully thirsty as she was, and was just able to perfectly hide it. what little movements he made were never careless, because toji was far too calculating for that and hated anything unnecessary.

she knew better than to antagonize him.

but the restless part of her was just so incredibly bored.

one day, she couldn’t help herself. she wanted to see just how close toji would let her get. she crept towards him on her hands and knees, knowing full well that he could hear her skin scraping against the wood.

still, he didn’t move.

she was beside him now, gazing down at his face. toji looked serene like this, perfectly still. like death, wonderful and mysterious, not at all what she thought it would be like. he was not unfeeling and cold, there was something beneath his marble stone. she knew that toji was older than her, much older. there was something beautifully ancient about him. the sort of grace that was as timeless as the giant blue whales that used to sing to her of the histories.

but toji was her home in a way the seas had never been.

she reached out into the space between them, wanting – yearning – to feel his skin beneath her fingertips.

when she finally felt the cold touch of his death, toji opened his eyes, bathing her in molten emerald. she melted under his gaze, letting out the tiniest, pathetic whimper. her palm cupped the apple of his cheek, and she worshipped his ichor and perfection. she traced the scar on his lip, memorizing it smoothness, then trailed it along his lips. she smiled widely, childishly, at how freely toji was allowing her to do this.

his green fire spread to her undead heart, and she wetted her lips, throat burning ardently, as her hand settled over his neck.

what would his blood taste like?

would it be cold and sweet? she imagined its ruby redness trickling from between her lips, and–

toji gripped her wrist, a warning blaze setting her aflame as he snarled and flashed his fangs at her.

she stilled, crippling shame filling her.

for a moment, the universe watched with bated breath as the two creatures stared each other down. she submitted to him instantly, dragging herself with haste to the other end of the ship, groping for apologetic words that toji would never understand.

eventually, he grunted dismissively. he slowly pulled himself upright, and nudged his head toward the exit. she turned and stared out through the cracks in the boards behind her.

it was finally night.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅

wherever they were in the world, it was the most unremarkable of places.

the humans here were stones hardened into the mould of this desolate place, with no hope of ever leaving. they all lived and died in their sad, grease-riddled town that made its living from the fish in the sea. she knew this because toji had taken her there one day to observe them all from a distance, when the storm clouds were heavy enough to shield them from the sun. their buildings were stained with guts and old blood, and the acrid smell of their oil lamps rose high into the air. the rhythmic sound of fish scales being scraped away was the beating heart of it all.

(she would have cried for them once,

but she did not belong to their world anymore.)

there was a port too, with sullen ships and even more sullen crew sailing them. pirates came and went with the wind, their unmarked sails pitifully flapping in the breeze. they stopped to indulge in whatever bars and brothels were there, always wiping their hands clean on their weather-stained pants when they were done, before hastily escaping back into the sea. perhaps they knew they would be doomed to remain here too if they stayed even a moment longer.

how toji ended up in a place like this, she did not know.

after swimming to shore from his ship, he would leave her on the beach. everytime she attempted to follow, toji would pin her down, shoving her arms deep into the sand and baring his alabaster fangs as a warning. she would pout her lips, petulantly crossing her arms like a child, and he would mumble what she knew were the blackest of curses before stalking off in the direction of the town.

she had no say in the matter.

all she could do was wait there for him to return, and such had been their routine for decades now.

even when her thirst was painful, she would still sprint along the beach, the adoring motherly moonlight kissing her skin. she would wade into the ocean and dive beneath the blackened waves, holding her breath between puffed out cheeks. the darting squid would watch her with their bulbous, intelligent eyes. they used to speak to her once, wrap their tentacles around her throat and tell her stories of creatures from the depths even she had dared not go to.

and now?

they spat their thick ink at her in disgust.

and then she would resurface, relishing in the loneliness of the world, and she would sing again.

to the ocean, and ode to its life and all its cruel misery.

she would sing to the moon, for its silver death and all its mystery.

(and to the king with red eyes.

for it was by his hand that the cards had dealt her a prince.)

her songs for toji came from someplace deep within her. something boundless like fire, or the mist hovering over the sea on the grayest of mornings. she would sing of how he curled over her skin like a storm rolling in from the distance. how he made her emotions rise and fall like the waves, and how she wanted to breath in the dust on his marble skin and keep him inside her forever.

her body would prickle with something unfamiliar.

she wanted to call it love.

but could creatures like them even feel such a thing?

they were predators, killers. they snuffed out love like it was nothing, fed on the ardor in the blood of their prey until the bodies shriveled and there was nothing left but dust.

thud!

she ceased her melody, and turned to face who she already knew was toji returning from the hunt.

there was a man sprawled on the sand reeking of piss and terror and rum. she watched as the moonlight mixed with the bead of sweat running down his temple, dripping down to mix with the crushed shells in the sand.

she tilted her head curiously.

in all these long years, toji had never once brought her a live human.

thump! thump! thump!

her pupils dilated, inky blackness invading the milky sea of her eyes at the sound of the man’s heartbeat.

she had not killed a living thing in so long.

(the red king had sat at the helm,

smiling at the bloody carnage spilled over the oak decking of his ship.)

toji’s eyes were green lanterns in the night, his worn leather boot pressing down hard on the man’s back. she wondered if this was a test – it had to be. toji never did anything without reason, even if she never knew exactly what went on in his mind. he was too cunning for mindless havoc, because then the resulting mess would be uncontrollable, unpredictable.

and toji did not like things to be messy.

the man looked at her, and she cooed at the fear etched into his features like scratchings on a rock. she opened her arms wide like a messiah, her body half-swallowed by the sea.

and started to sing again.

toji’s eyes widened a fraction, his fists tightening into boulders. he lifted his foot from the man’s back, stepping once, then twice backward, his mouth set in a thin line.

(he has heard you sing, and now he shall never let you go.

cried the first woman from long ago.)

she knew the magic was no longer imbued within her voice, because that had been a gift for the living. but death had not made it ugly. it was still a pretty voice, made from ice instead of salt. while she may not be able to drown the mighty ships of pirates any longer, it was still enough to captivate those who would kill for something more beautiful than the dirt they were born in.

the man stumbled forward, much like when she had first emerged from the sea. she smiled fondly as the wind carried her song over the sand dunes. still, the poor human crawled and crept towards her desperately like she was his salvation. the only rone who would soothe away all his troubles, and save him from the doom and demons in the shadows.

was this how toji had felt when she came to him? it was something more than power – godlike, perhaps.

she decided that she liked this feeling.

the man collapsed ungracefully into her arms, tears and snot streaming down both his cheeks like rain, babbling nonsense she could not understand. she cradled him to her chest, hushing him soothingly with a mother’s honeyed tongue. she met toji’s gaze, hoping that he could see just how deliriously grateful she was to him for this gift.

and with that, she fell backward into the sea, the man’s last sound a choking gasp of salt.

the squid darted frantically all around her, the only witnesses to the man’s fate in the darkness of the night sea. they had seen this dance a thousand and one times before; she killed in the death the same way she had in life.

when she had had her fill, she let the man’s body sink and hoped that at least the sharks would be somewhat thankful to her.

even if she would never be able to hear it.

she emerged from the sea, her clothes clinging to her skin like scales. to her surprise, toji was there to greet her, knee deep beneath the waves. he was a haunting vision of an angels grandeur, more than all that was considered beautiful in the world. breathlessly, she smiled at him, sinful blood coating her teeth and tongue.

he took a step toward her, and she to him.

toji moved his head to the side, his marble jaw flashing in the moon, and hummed. she could tell he was pleased by the tremble of his lips that threatened to curl upward, and the flare of his nostrils as he breathed her in.

his hand reached out to her, cupping her jaw, and quickly pushed his thumb between her parted lips. she gasped against his skin as he rubbed it over her teeth and the pearly points of her fangs, and removed it from her mouth with a provocative pop!

slowly, toji brought it to his own lips.

and sucked.

she watched him, utterly transfixed as the midnight moon, as he relished the taste of iron and salt.

in that moment, she decided to give toji her soul to him if she had one. she would submit herself to the justice of michael’s sun and fire to be with him forever, even if was just for a chance to be loved by him until the end of time on this miserable land in the vast world.

“do you want me to sing again?” she asked, hoping he understood.

toji only hummed in response, the faintest hint of a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

she did it anyway.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅

to love toji was to love a storm.

its chilling anticipation, waiting for it to hit her so she could feel something. to be in its green eye, for the rain to carelessly slash her skin, and the waves to bash against her – and still love and endure it regardless. because to weather a storm was to be strong, to be worthy enough, and it would love her all the more for it.

(or perhaps,

see her as a challenge to break.)

and when the storm passed, it meant they would thrive together.

toji had continued to bring her one starved man after the other, sometimes even two at a time, all far too eager to take their chances with her rather than him. they were pirates, forgettable and disposable, and all met death in the sea that they claimed to love more than anything. toji had noticed quite quickly how easily they came to her, how willingly.

there was no struggle, no mess.

and so, that was how they hunted.

together.

something in her haunting song had cracked through toji’s wall. before dawn, satiated from the hunt, they were a tangled mess of limbs and panting breaths – dancing, wandering hands of liquid gold looking for a crevice to settle in. when they made love, toji never faced her, hissing if she tried to look at him, and a small part of her soul would wither into a burnt, blackened rose. still, she desperately drank in whatever he decided to give her, and that was decidedly good enough.

(you are nothing in the grand schemings of the green serpent in the garden,

sighed the first women from long ago.)

their days were still spent mostly in silence, though sometimes he allowed her to rest beside him. she did not understand toji, how his passion only seemed to awaken after his bloodlust had been quenched – after she had led the sailors to their deaths. the very moment the sun appeared, that part of him was locked away in a chest and thrown to the bottom of the sea, only to be dragged back to the surface when the moon returned.

she began to loathe the sun for entirely different reasons.

still, love for toji was where she found herself. if anything in this mortal world could make her undead heart beat once more, it was that love. so, she took all his faults and smothered them in sugar, and swallowed them down anyway. if toji did not love her, then he wouldn’t make her feel so alive when the moon came out to play. he would not have bothered with anything at all if he did not feel something, even if it was just a flicker of candlelight.

at least, that is how she rationalized it to herself.

they were both lying below deck, with her running through those very conflicting thoughts in her head when she heard it.

thump! thud, thud… thump!

she parted her lips and tasted the air on her tongue.

intruders.

on their ship, in broad daylight.

she sat up abruptly and whirled around to look at toji.

but he had already disappeared.

he was much faster than she, and was probably already tucked away somewhere in between the dusty maze of crates and chests. the footsteps grew louder as the stranger passed directly over her head, and she swallowed nervously. her mind raced, and throat burned viciously with thirst.

where could she hide?

rattle! clink, clink!

the metal latches on the doors were being disturbed.

there was nowhere to go, but she knew that when those doors opened, the holy sun of heaven would surely kill her. she spied a large chest, half-open and draped with worn sheets covering it, and dove toward it.

and not a moment too soon.

the doors swung open, and she winced as a dull beige light filtered through the sheet. there were three of them, their figures outlined as blurry browned shadows through the seams. one wore an ostentatious hat with a feather peeking out from the top, and something about his sword, sheathed in a black leather scabbard, set her teeth on edge.

something menacing.

something that could hurt her – toji.

her lips curled back over her gums, baring her fangs in a silent snarl.

they were moving deeper and deeper into the maze of crates, their backs gradually turned to her and their doom.

she pounced.

michael’s sword of light seared her exposed neck and arms, but it did not deter her from latching onto one of the smaller intruders and sinking her teeth into his neck. the man screamed, clawing desperately at her face as he slipped backwards in surprise. the other two whirled around, and the one with the hat unsheathed his sword to reveal gleaming, cruel silver.

together, the four of them danced around each other to the tune of blood and silver. for every weeping bite she left, the captain slashed her with his sword. she didn’t know it could be possible, but the pain from his strikes hurt her more than the sun did. it was a chaotic scuffle, born from instinct and the sheer will to survive.

but still, the humans could never hope to endure salt and ice.

with a final thrust, the captain twisted his sword into her shoulder, his life force fading violently as his essence poured down into her throat. she slumped down to the ground, holding the human close as she took in the aftermath of their fight.

the ship was a mess.

blood was splattered across the crates and boards, with the mangled bodies of the three men scattered and sinking down into every crack in the ship, spilling straight down to the sea beneath them. she clicked her locked jaw, and detached herself from her assailant, and hurried to tuck herself away into a half-open crate, whimpering from the pain of the burning sun blisters and stinging silver.

she was not healing.

there was a rustling of sheets somewhere, a great rush of wind, and the doors slammed shut with a loud bang!

she collapsed forward, her eyes bathed in cooling darkness, gasping and coughing as the wood uncomfortably scraped her open sores. she blinked, and saw toji’s crinkled boots in front of her.

her love was perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet, looking down at her with his hands and face clean of both blood and worry. she whimpered pathetically at toji, begging and pleading with her eyes for him to do something, anything.

he sighed.

gently, toji turned her to face him, and tipped her chin back. he pushed the base of his thumb past her parted lips, settling it in between her teeth. he gave her an encouraging nod, soft clouds behind the green of his iris, and pressed his thumb a touch further into her mouth.

she froze.

her fangs grazed his marble skin, and a pearl of toji’s blood spread across her tongue.

what was that look in his eyes?

it was something almost like pride.

she took a deep breath in, and took a long slow drag from him.

she was then lost in a sea of tumbling emeralds. his blood had ignited something feral and dangerous in her, working her up into a wild state as her wounds sealed and smoothed out like nothing had happened. somehow, toji’s lips had found hers, and they kissed and bit each other’s lips in a frenzied madness.

was it all just for a taste?

she couldn’t tell if toji was life or death.

(she was too far gone in her sin and indulgence,

that she could not tell the difference anymore.)

there was something inherently intimate about blood sharing. she could not explain it, but it was more profound than when they fell into each others embrace every night. toji was gripping both sides of her face, her lips bloody and bruised as she tasted herself on his tongue. perhaps it was her imagination, but she felt toji’s soul running through her – raw and angry and full of smoke.

she wondered what he thought she tasted like.

and hoped that he enjoyed it.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅

immortality was not truly immortal.

death still hovered over them with his scythe, a mere inch away from their waiting, vulnerable throats. nobody knew that he was there, always watching, never knowing exactly when he might urge his midnight stallion just a little closer.

she certainly hadn’t known it either.

not until it was upon her.

they were on a beach sometime during the summer, a thick storm cloud hanging over the sea and shore. it was a taunting, teasing thing, making her jump as the thunder rolled through her bones and made her marrow tremble.

toji was lounging beneath a lopsided palm tree, its trunk bent and twisted so that its leaves draped to the side and covered him. even when the clouds cover was as thick as it was now, he still opted to stay in the shade, squinting his eyes as if the sun was burning him. he would watch her play in the waves, grunting dismissively when she would teasingly curl her fingers at him, urging him to come closer.

when that didn’t work, she would sing for him.

and the creases and ripples in the marble of his forehead would soften and smooth – only then could toji relax in the sun.

she turned her back to him and the shore, spreading her arms to the heavens as she sang to the jealous sea, declaring how grand immortality and their love was.

but she should have remembered where she was in this unfeeling world.

so loud was the call of the birds on the summer breeze and the waves beating against the sand and her ears, that she did not hear them until it was too late.

those horrid, vicious humans.

they had grabbed her by the arms and legs, with what seemed like twenty men still struggling against her strength. she spat and cursed at them, hissing and snarling as they pressed their silver crosses and flaming torches to her skin, marring her forever.

she wanted to cry, but remembered she could not.

toji’s green flames were upon her, she was sure of it. she could feel his presence was near, and could still smell him and his leather boots through the sour stench of the rotten fish from the townsmen surrounding her.

he was watching.

and doing nothing.

would toji be proud of her in this moment, as he had been when she defended him all those years ago? when she took the lives of those that had threatened him and his peace. she felt the flames soften and knew that he was – he had to be. she was sparing him from the fire and silver, so eager to take his place and save him from haunting the seas.

it was better that toji had not said any sort of goodbye at all, that they had not shared any sort of special last moment together.

but still.

a part of her hoped that he would sweep in to save her. that the part of him that had perhaps loved her could not bear to be parted from her. that immortality was worthless without her love and song.

but she knew that was not in his nature.

he was a survivor, through and through.

(how could it have been love? you were just as blind as i was,

wailed the first woman from long ago.)

she wondered if he would come to her after she was gone, as a stake was driven into her chest, shattering and splintering her ribcage. would he pluck out her heart and suck it dry from all the love it had for him? even though toji had taken everything and more from her, she wondered if he had at least realized he had been selfishly incapable of putting her out of her misery.

“お許しください”

but the fragile, momentous realization she had was that if immortality was true, and she had to choose to relive all of this – toji – over and over again.

she would.

and she did.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅

if anybody would like to pop into my inbox to discuss the fic and share their interpretations, please feel free to do so! <3

#toji x y/n #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n

265 notes · View notes

ninii-winchester · 3 months ago

Text

Lie to me

Pairing : Dean Winchester X reader

Word count : 4k

Warnings : angst, hurt/no comfort, Major character death, depressing thoughts, canon violence.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean was tossing and turning in his bed in the motel room. Sam was soundly asleep on the other bed. The two of them had just burn the bones of an old lady who was haunting her old house after she'd committed suicide. Dean was tired but he couldn't fall asleep. He quietly left the room and made his way towards Baby. He knew he shouldn't disturb Y/n this late but he knew she barely slept herself. It was two in the morning and he texted her asking if she's awake and she called him instead of answering.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Was the first thing she asked as he picked up.

"I could ask you the same thing." He retorted settling in the front seat of the Impala.

"I'm not the one who came from a hunt." She replied and he chuckled. He loved how she reprimanded him for the exact same thing she does herself. He knew she wouldn't let it go unless he turned the conversation around, so he filled her in all about the hunt and how she should've joined them for this one.

"It was literally just a ghost. Salt and burn. It didn't even need two people and you're saying I should've came along too." She replied sassily. They talked for a while when she suddenly asked, "why didn't you find someone to entertain you for the night?" Dean shrugged even though she couldn't see him.

"Why would I need to find someone else when I could easily call my sweetheart." He replied with a smirk and she could hear it in his voice. This was something she hated about Dean. He constantly flirted with her and called her nicknames but never went further. She knew she had a small crush on him, who wouldn't. But he never showed any interest in her other than his incessant flirting. He hooked up with women left and right. He never even bothered to react when she was approached by guys or even if she left with one, once in a blue moon. She wasn't the type to sleep around but a girl has here needs, and finding a partner in this type of lifestyle can be a hassle. She knew Dean wouldn't turn her down if she made a move but she didn't want to be just another woman in Dean Winchester's bed so she never acted on her feelings. But his behaviour made it harder for her to keep her feelings at bay.

"I think you should've." She replied try to keep the bitterness out of her tone but it didn't go unnoticed by Dean.

"Why should I have?" He questioned curiously. He couldn't quite understand why she became so dismissive when the two were having a great conversation.

"I'm going to sleep, Dean. You should too." She faked a yawn and he could tell something was off. She was his best friend and he could tell she was hiding something. But at the same time he knew she wouldn't tell him no matter how hard he tried to get it out of her. That's just how she was. He let out a sigh and said goodbye hanging up. Dean wondered what made her cut the call short. He recalled the whole conversation hoping he could remember if he said something to upset her. But nothing came to mind. He let out another sigh before getting out the car and going back to his motel room.

Y/n dropped onto the mattress of the motel room she was staying at. She herself had finished a salt and burn two days ago in a town in Michigan, but she didn't leave because she liked this place. The motel room wasn't as bad as the others she'd been to and the people were nice. And there were no other hunts that she knew of. She didn't like the research work to find hunts so she mostly relied on Bobby to send cases her way. Or any other hunter who needed backup.

She laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling. She wasn't aware of the supernatural and she lived a normal life. John Winchester once saved her from a Wendigo in the woods and she'd been grateful to him. When she had another run in with a supernatural creature, a ghost in her apartment, she called John but he didn't answer and she found his son's number from his voicemail. And that's how she met Dean. He was a flirt, she gathered the minute he walked inside her apartment and confirmed it when she cheekily asked her if she wanted to thank him some other way. She remembered the way she rolled her eyes at him and told him off and how he chuckled, sending a wink her way, telling her to call him if she changed her mind. But she also remembers how she found him extremely attractive.

Knowing about the supernatural and running into trouble twice she decided to learn to defend herself. She called Dean and asked if he could teach her. Luckily for her, he agreed saying how he didn't have anything better to do since his brother went to college and his father left him on his own. She learnt stuff quickly and after a hunt with Dean, she knew she wanted to help save people for the rest of her life. He introduced her to Bobby and Sam, when he came back and the rest was history.

Her phone rang and she groaned not wanting to deal with anyone at the moment. Calls with Dean often mess with her and she had a hard time convincing herself that it's just how he is and it's nothing serious. She looked at the caller ID and furrowed her brows.

"Do you ever check the time before calling?." She spoke into her phone.

"Good morning your highness, my apologies. Did you have your tea yet?" Bobby sassed from the other side of the phone and she rolled her eyes.

"I drink coffee. Keep up old man." The man grunted in response and she chuckled. He told her he found a case and its a huge vampire nest, with probably fifteen vampires and they're causing trouble in Rockford, Illinois. "Are you really so tired of me that you're sending me there by myself?" She joked making Bobby roll his eyes to the back of his head.

"I've called Sam and Dean too. They'll meet you there." He replied. She affirmed that she heard him. Saying their goodbyes she hung the phone.

Just what I need.

She met up with the Winchesters the next day. Dean tried to get her to talk to him but she brushed him off, not bothering with him unless it was hunt related. Sam furrowed his brows at the interaction clearly baffled as she's never dismissed Dean before. The hunt went pretty well and Y/n finally let loose. She went to her friendly self as they hit the nearest bar for celebratory drinks. Her mood instantly dampened when a pretty brunette walked up to Dean and he flashed her his ever so charming smile. Y/n frowned as Dean let the woman whisk him away for the night. She'd expected him to stay but it was just wishful thinking. She knew he would never refuse a good time.

"Why don't you just tell him?" Sam quipped from beside her as she peeled at the label of her beer bottle, fingers picking at the edges absentmindedly. She sent him a glare but he didn't waver, and shot her a look.

"It's Dean. The chances of him cutting me off are far greater than him wanting anything real with me." She replied taking a swig of her drink.

"That's not..." Sam tried to defend his brother but then he stopped himself mid sentence. He knows Dean wouldn't want to risk getting close to anyone, even if it's Y/n.

Y/n patted Sam on his arm, reassuring him that she's fine and he doesn't have to make excuses for his brother. Surprisingly enough, Dean left the Impala to Sam so he left early and since she had her own car, she took her time going back. She arrived at the motel but she didn't want to go inside their room, not yet atleast. She noticed a swing set right outside the motel which was unlikely for places like these. She made her way to the swings and sat down on one. Self deprecating thoughts thoughts swarmed inside her head as she looked up at the sky.

It's her own fault she fell for the hunter anyways. She should've known she wasn't someone he'd want to be with. She's not the ideal woman one would want. At least not someone like Dean would want. She doesn't have the perfect curvy figure or any specific features that make her stand out. Her hair's unkept most of the time and she's got scars all over her body. She's not desirable.

She didn't know how much time had passed but she could see the darkness fade around her. The sun wasn't up yet it wasn't dark anymore. With a loud sigh she continued to stare ahead to figure out a way she could get out of this mess without a heartbreak. She heard the familiar thump of boots against the pavement and looked up to see Dean walking towards the motel. He had his jacket in his hand and he was whistling as he walked.

At least someone had a good night.

Dean noticed a figure perched on a swing and recognised the silhouette. With hurried steps he approached her and took a seat beside her on the swing. She turned to look at him and immediately regretted seeing the red and purple hickies that lingered on his neck.

"What're you doing out here?" Dean asked staring at her face.

"Just thinking. Did you have a good night?" Y/n replied, she wondered if she's some sort a masochist who finds pleasure in inflicting pain upon oneself.

"Yeah it was good. What're you thinking about?" Dean was curious, she'd been acting distant and he wanted to know why. She's even sitting out here in the early hours of the day when she should've been sleeping. "You're distant." He added like a child who lost his toy. He missed his best friend if he was being honest.

"Really Dean? I wasn't the who one left my friends for sex." She didn't intend to snap but his words struck a nerve and she felt the need to defend herself.

"You say as if you've never done that before!" Dean replied sharply. "Something is going on with you that you're clearly not telling me." He was getting frustrated with her behaviour and he needed to know.

"Well maybe I don't like watching you go off with women all the time." She answered harshly and he flinched at her tone. He could only managed to choke out a 'What?' not getting what she meant. She stared ahead keeping quiet.

"What's the supposed to mean?" Dean asked again.

"You're really gonna make me say it, won't you?" She scoffed and he shook his head in confusion. "I like you Dean, more than a friend." She said quietly, hoping he didn't hear her but the silence enveloping them made it left no doubt that he heard her loud and clear. She had prepared herself for his rejection but she didn't think his silence would hurt this bad.

"Y/n I, I've never-..." he stuttered not knowing how to get his point through without breaking her heart. "I've always thought of you as my best friend, is all." She looked down at her lap, nodding her head in understanding. There we no tears however her heart was being ripped apart inside.

"Why'd you always make me feel special? Constant flirt with me and gave me those nicknames. Why'd you act like you cared?" Dean rubbed a hand over his head. "Why'd you lead me on?" Her voice was small and accusing.

"It wasn't an act. I do care about you. I didn't mean to. I thought..." he trailed off not wanting to hurt her any more than he already did.

"I get it." She cleared her throat. What else was she supposed to say or do? Throw a fit? The option she had was to accept the fact that he wouldn't love her ever.

"I do love you, Y/n/n. Just not the way you-" He started but she interrupted him.

"I said I get it, Dean." She nodded again. "I think we should go inside." She said standing up from her place and heading towards the room. Sam was fast asleep when she entered the room. She sat on the pullout couch when Dean entered the room and settled on the other bed. They would usually share the bed since they'd been best friends for years but now it all seemed too awkward. Even being in the same room as him was suffocating her.

After hours of tossing and turning Dean finally slipped into a deep slumber and Y/n took it as a chance to grab her stuff and slip out of the room, and their lives. For good.

When Sam woke up he noticed Y/n was gone. Her was not in the parking lot and her bag was gone too. He shook his brother awake notifying him of her departure. Dean knew she would want to have some time apart but he didn't expect her to leave without as much as a goodbye.

"Why'd did she leave without saying goodbye?" Sam wondered out loud and Dean looked at his feet. He knew the reason she left, he was the reason she left. He shouldn't have been so careless with his gestures that gave her the wrong idea. Sam recognised the look on his brother's face as guilt. "What did you do?" He asked and Dean looked up.

"What makes you think I did something?" Dean felt offended at his brother's accusation.

"Because it's written all over your face so fucking spill." Sam glared at his brother folding his arms across his chest.

"I just told her the truth." Sam raised his brow, gesturing him to continue. "She told me she liked me and I told her I don't feel the same. It's not my fault she couldn't be an adult about it." Dean snapped, his anger flaring up as he felt unfairly portrayed as the villain.

"You told you her you don't reciprocate her feelings?" Sam asked incredulously. "Dean are you insanse why would you say that?"

"Because that's the truth!! I told her I loved her as a friend, not in the way she wants me to." Dean snapped back. Sam shook his head at his brother's stupidity. Sam knew deep down Dean loved Y/n more than anyone. She was his best friend but most of she was that one person had made a special place in his brother's heart.

Sam didn't say anything instead he went out to call Y/n. She didn't any of his calls and it went straight to voicemail. She didn't want to talk to anyone. All she wants is to deal with her heartbreak once and for all. And then she'll go back to her friends, to Dean. And they can pretend it never happened.

Four months passed without any contact with the boys and Y/n was nowhere near getting over Dean. She'd assumed hearing him reject her would get her the closure she needed to get over her crush it seemed to be more than a crush. Over the four months Sam continued to call her and leave messages for her and she would always just send him a little text telling him alive. Nothing other than that. He was atleast greatful that was alive.

Y/n had found a ghoul case in Ohio and as much as she hated those awful creatures she decided to go. The ghoul had been digging up graves to feed on the dead, so she made her way to the cemetery, a molotov cocktail and lighter safely tucked in her jacket and a machete in case something goes southways.

With a flashlight tightly gripped in her hand she entered the cemetery. It was late and she could she a silhouette a few feet away from where she stood. It was hunched over something and she could tell he was feeding off of a dead body. She grimaced as she neared the creature. The crunch of leaves beneath her boot resounded in the otherwise quiet cemetery making the ghoul turn to look at her. The ghoul hissed at her and jumped at her before she could react. With a swift motion she dodged it and moved aside kicking it away. The creature seem to grow angry and lurched towards her, it managed to hold her arm and bit her forearm. She screamed in agony as it’s sharp teeth dug into her flesh. She took a deep breath before she pushed at his chest, the ghoul taking it as an opening to dig its claw in the side and rip a patch of flesh from her body. Y/n headbutted it and the ghoul went barreling straight into a tombstone. She fell to the ground and quickly took out the Molotov cocktail and lit it up before throwing it at it, burning it alive.

Now that the ghoul was taken care of she moved backwards until her back hit one of the tombstones and cradled her side. She was bleeding profusely and she knew she couldn’t make it out of here on her own. She could call for help but she wasn’t sure who to call. She was too prideful to call the boys. She dug out her phone from her jacket and called Bobby. He grumbled as he answered the call.

“This better be good.” The old man said over the phone. Y/n let out a chuckle at his words.

“Heya Bobby. Ran into a bit of trouble.” She said sheepishly.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Ghoul ripped my side if that’s your definition of trouble. And he bit my arm.” She scoffed followed by a chuckled.

“Where are you damnit?”

“Ohio.” She breathed out feeling herself getting tired. Bobby cursed under his breath. Ohio was a good hundred miles away. It would take him hours to reach her.

"Ohio? Damn, y/n, that’s a long way. How you even end up all the way out there?" She didn’t answer, instead she coughed, spitting the blood beside her. Bobby sighed knowing he couldn’t get to her in time. “Hey keep talking. Describe your surroundings to me.” He put her on speaker as he called Sam from his other phone. He didn’t answer so he left him a voicemail.

“Its a dark cemetery, trees are pretty though.” He heard her voice becoming quiet. “Not bad for a last view huh?” She chuckled and Bobby took in a sharp breath. He really wanted to reprimand her not to say things like that but at this point he wasn’t even sure if she’d make it. “Hey, can I call you back?” She asked randomly. The old man frowned asking her why but she didn’t respond. Instead she hung up on him. With her vision blurred she managed to call Dean. The phone rang for a few seconds and to her surprise he answered.

“Y/n?”

“Dean.” She mumbled. “I didn’t wake you up did I?” breathing was shallow and irregular, each breath coming in ragged gasps as if the air itself was slipping away.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? You sound-” She interrupted him.

“You have pretty eyes. They’d make good for a last view.” She chuckled. Dean's heart skipped a beat at her words. There was something in your tone, something that made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘last view’?" Dean clenched his jaw, a sense of dread building in his gut. Something was wrong, very wrong. He quickly woke Sam and filled him in on the situation.

“I’m sorry I walked out.” She coughed up more blood and sputtered, choking on it. “I’m sorry for ruining….our friendship.” Dean shook his head already making his way towards his car. Sam following behind.

“Where are you? What happened?” Dean was now getting anxious. She sounded so fragile, as if she was on the verge of her end. God—he didn’t even want to think about it.

“Ohio Cemetery, Ghoul.” She heard him open his car door and slamming it shut. “I just wanted to….. I love you Dean. Tell Sam I’m sorry.” She could feel her tears builidng up as hot white pain surged through her body.

“No…no no, don’t you dare die on me.” He growled stepping on the gas. “I’m coming to get you.” She smiled wistfully, knowing it’s futile. She’s not going to make it.

“Hey Dean.” Her breaths came in faint, uneven whispers, barely rising above the sound of the surrounding silence. “Do me a favour?” Tears sprung to Dean’s eyes and he nodded his head even though she couldn’t see him.

“Anything. Just please hold on. I’m on my way.” He begged, his heart felt like it was being crushed under a weight of helplessness.

“Lie to me.” She whispered and Dean’s foot stepped on the brakes making the Impala swerve a bit. Sam looked at his brother as the car came to a halt. “Lie to me once please.” Dean knew what she meant, he knew what she wanted him to say. But he couldn’t lie to her. Not when she’s taking her last breath. And because it wouldn’t be a lie.

“I can’t.” He whispered and she sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t lie to you. But I can tell you I love you. It’s the truth.” Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the overwhelming sense of grief, sorrow and regret. “I love you so much it hurts.” He cried. Sam patted his brother on the back, unable to hold onto his own tears.

“You sound pretty convincing.” Y/n chuckled feeling the strength in her limbs drain with every passing moment, and her once-strong grip had become weak and feeble.

“It’s the truth, I just didn’t want you to be in danger because of me. I wanted to protect you. I pushed you away. When all I wanted was to hold you close to me. I do fucking love you.” Dean said angrily. Not angry at her but with himself for being a fool, for letting her go. For not being there to protect her.

“It’s okay.” She whispered. The atmosphere around her felt heavy and somber, marking the approach of an inevitable end. “I love you.” She felt the phone slip from her grasp as she took in her final breath. The phone fell to ground with a thud, and Dean panicked.

Dean’s desperate pleas through the phone fell into a haunting void, the line now carrying only the echoes of his sorrow. The sudden, silence left a heavy, unspoken grief that seemed to linger, a stark reminder of a love that was cut short by the cruel hand of fate.

“Y/n? Sweetheart? C’mon please talk to me.” He begged through the phone but all he got was silence from the other end. “Baby please.” Dean was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of guilt, his chest tightening with every recollection of what had transpired. He was the reason it ended like it, she left him twice, all because of his own cowardice. He was scared to love her and she left him forever. His every thought was consumed by the desire to undo the harm he believed he had caused. But it was too late now and he’s left behind to bare the consequences of his own actions.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #sam and dean #spn fanfic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader angst #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles characters #spn fanfiction #spn angst #nini writes

299 notes · View notes

beomiracles · 8 months ago

Text

sex with a ghost ft yeonjun

─ dark lustful eyes pierce yours, "still think I'm not real, angel?", he taunts as he moves in and out of you slowly.

A/N ─ heh, hey :3 I've been working on this all evening but I sorta gave up on the proofreading part... it's 1am ok. My longest one part fic yet, coming in at 7.3k words exactly >_< I am DESPERATE to know your thoughts on it !!!!

pairings: ghost!taehyun x psychic!afab!reader warnings: major character death, slight descriptions of character death, ANGST, cheating???, eventual smut, fingering, oral (f rec), vaginal penetration, slight degradation but also praise, multiple love interests if you close your eyes squint and believe.

A screeching sound can be heard echoing through the quiet neighbourhood as your car comes to a stop. You really needed to invest in a new one soon.

Gathering your supplies, you step out to be faced with a large apartment complex. The neighbourhood was foreign to you, though the houses looked to be well maintained.

Climbing the stairs to the entrance you curse yourself for choosing heels today. The doorbell rings, once, twice, you're greeted by an elderly woman's voice through the small speaker. "Hello ma'am, it's y/l/n, from-"

"Oh! Yes of course I know where you're from, come on in!", the doors swing open and you make your way through the entrance. The elevator makes a noise as the doors open on the seventh floor and you walk out.

The elderly lady whose voice you'd heard on the speaker is already standing in the doorway, waving you over. As you reach her you bow, "miss, y/l/n y/n, ma'am". The woman smiles as she introduces herself as Mrs Kang.

Mrs Kang leads you through the small hallway into a spacious living room with a marvellous view of the city. "Tea, coffee?", she asks as she takes place behind the counter in the joint kitchen space. "Just water will do fine, anything else tends to mess with my work", you say as you sit down by the dining table.

Taking out a wax candle you place it in the centre of the table. Around it you lay various dried herbs, the whole thing is finished off with a ring of salt around it. Mrs Kang returns with two glasses of water as she places one in front of you. You thank her and take a sip.

As Mrs Kang takes a seat in front of you she eyes the candle. You bring out a box of matches, "before I start, would you mind telling me about your son?".

The woman nods as she clears her throat, "I...well he passed just two months ago", she says, fingers picking at her cuticles in an anxious manner. "May I ask how?", your voice is soft as you keep your gaze on her.

Mrs Kang swallows, "it was a car accident, he...it was his friend who was behind the wheel", she shakes her head, "my Taehyunnie, he wasn't...he wasn't irresponsible like that he...", tears fill her eyes as she continuously shakes her head.

You offer her a tissue to which she silently thanks you. Wiping her eyes with shaking hands before she finally meets your gaze again. "It's wrong", she states, "I should not have to bury my child...". She holds back a sob as she continues, "I should witness him fall in love, g-get married and...", a sob escapes her throat, "a-and start a family of his own".

"He was so young", she cries, burrowing her face in the tissue. You extend your hand to caress hers. "I know, and I am so incredibly sorry for your loss".

Despite doing this for a living you still felt rather stale in situations like these. It felt as if you were invading a very private and personal part of her life.

As Mrs Kang's breathing slowly returns to normal you try and shift the direction of the conversation. "Why don't you tell me about how Taehyun was?" you give your most kindhearted smile. "What did he enjoy, was he afraid of something, did he have any dreams?"

Mrs Kang smiles, "he wanted to become a singer". She scoffs as she leans back in her chair, "I always told him he would do good as a model, he was very beautiful you know", she says and you nod, "I'm sure he was".

Mrs Kang shakes her head, "but there was no changing his mind, music was his sole passion". "The hours he would spend cooped up in his room, writing his heart away".

So he liked music? "And what about friends? A girlfriend?" Mrs Kang is silent for a moment, "he didn't have many friends growing up", she admits, "he wasn't very social...", a troubled look presents itself on her face, "perhaps I could've done more I.."

"You did an amazing job raising him, I'm sure", you say as your hand gives hers a squeeze. Mrs Kang gives you a thankful smile, "he did find a few friends through music", she frowns, "but he never brought a girl home".

She shakes her head, "but what do I know? he moved out years ago... I just, could never bring myself to do anything with his room...he's my only baby". Her bottom lip quivers slightly as her voice cracks, "and now...now it's all I have left of him.."

"I completely understand, and I appreciate you sharing all of this with me, I know it isn't easy for you". Mrs Kang nods as she blows her nose with the tissue before discarding it. "Whatever helps you maybe get in contact with him, I'm willing to do anything", she says, a hopeful look on her face.

"Then shall we get started?" you bring out a match, lighting it as you place it next to the wax candle. As the flame takes to life you blow out the match and place it down on the table.

You close your eyes as you take both of Mrs Kang's hands in your own. It doesn't take long before a familiar feeling fills your chest. It's sharp, pushing at your ribs, it feels as if they're about to crack, but it doesn't hurt.

That's how you know that there's something else present, someone else. "Kang Taehyun?" you ask and the surge in your chest grows tighter, you smile. "My name is y/n, I'm here with your mother", you can feel Mrs. Kang's grip on your hands tighten.

"He's here", you say as you open your eyes, "do you have any questions for him? anything you want him to know?". Mrs Kang nods, "I want to tell him that I love him..", she whispers, almost pleadingly. You nod.

"Your mother tells you that she loves you, Taehyun", you await his answer. The spirits never spoke verbally, but would send off different auras, they each held different emotions.

The surge in your chest suddenly felt warm, you smile, "he loves you too". Tears once again fill Mrs. Kang's eyes as she lets out a small sob, "ask him if he's happy, please, I need to know that my baby is alright".

You refocus your attention to the surge in your chest, "your mother asks if you're happy, Taehyun". You're unable to hide the surprise on your face as the pull on your chest immediately darkens, it's almost painful, you've never felt something quite like it before.

Mrs Kang is quick to notice the change in your expression, "what? what's wrong?", she asks worriedly. You shake your head as you close your eyes. The intensity of the surge grows with each second, "he's not happy", you admit and Mrs Kang lets out a small cry.

A soul lingers between the living and the dead for one of two reasons, it can stay behind to watch over loved ones, or it is unable to move on. Judging by the dark pull on your chest you would assume the latter. "Taehyun, why do you linger?", you ask, eyes closed.

The pull on your chest starts thumping rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. It's quick, harsh, angry. Your eyes snap open, and your hand grips the collar of your shirt.

Mrs Kang immediately stops crying as she looks at you with a horrified expression, "what's wrong dear?" she exclaims. You shake your head, "I've never felt anything like this before", you admit as you take a deep breath.

The thumping is so loud that you fear your eardrums might burst. Quickly leaning forward you blow out the candle and everything comes to an abrupt stop.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself as your breathing returns to normal. When it finally does you look up at Mrs Kang, "may I see his room?".

Taehyun's room is neat, it feels almost melancholic, frozen in time. Your hands graze along the the shelves filled with albums of different artists. His closet was empty, to be expected. Your gaze lingers on a piece of paper discarded on his desk.

Picking it up you study the words scribbled on it, the handwriting is neat but most of the words have been erased or drawn over. It looks to be lyrics, was it a song he worked on?

"That one was no good", a voice speaks. You shriek, immediately dropping the paper. As you turn around you're met with a young man, possibly in his early twenties. His short black hair lay messily atop his head, his eyes are dark as they study you. Hands digging deep into the pockets of his denim jeans.

"What the fu...who are you?", you ask as you take a step back, your legs hitting the desk behind you. The man raises an eyebrow, "thought we met already".

It takes a moment for you to piece together his words and his comment about the paper in your hand. The way he was standing so causally... as if it were his own room.

"Kang Taehyun?"

He smirks, "in the flesh, well not really". Your jaw goes slack as you stare at the man in front of you. "But...that's not possible, you're...you're",─"dead?", he asks to which you nod.

He shrugs as he takes a step toward you, "your black magic seems to have done a lot more than you expected it to". His dark eyes pierce yours as his brow twitches slightly, "I'll give you that though, I never really believed in the supernatural".

Your mind is still in shambles as you try and make sense of the situation, "how are you here? it makes no sense..". You blink, once, twice, but he remains. You close your eyes for a solid thirty seconds before peeking them open. "You're strange", Taehyun comments and you feel as if your legs are about to give out.

"This can't be happening", your hands claps around your head, "I must be going crazy, yeah that's it, I'm hallucinating". You let out a short laugh, "I really need to get more sleep, I'll take a nap as soon as I come home, yes, that'll solve it".

"Do all psychics talk to themselves?", he asks as he tilts his head. You breathe in, then out, "you're not real", it's a statement not a question. And just like that Taehyun vanishes, the tension in the room slowly lifts and you feel yourself relax as you blink a few times.

Then he suddenly appears again, closer, so close that you could touch him. "Then what am I?" he inquires. His pale hand reaches out to graze yours and you jump, knocking the decorations on his desk.

"Is that not real?", he asks to which you shake your head. Taehyun frowns, he looks almost as if he's about to say something but stops himself. He vanishes, but in less than a second he reappears, now sitting on his bed.

You're about to speak again but the sound of the bedroom door opening has you snapping your head in said direction. Mrs Kang enters, "is everything alright? I heard a noise..."

"I'm fine but I...", you begin as you turn toward the bed, it's empty. Taehyun was gone again.

Mrs. Kang thanks you over and over as she promises to treat you to dinner whenever you wished. You too, thanked her immensely for her hospitality and made sure that you would let her know should anything happen.

You didn't tell her about Taehyun, you were sure it had all been a hallucination. It was true, you were sleeping a lot less these days. You didn't know why, you had never had a problem with insomnia before but you suppose that surrounding yourself with the dead had a certain effect on people.

Still, it didn't explain the fact that you had felt his touch. His hand had been cold, hard as if made out of steel. It was like his whole body was frozen in time. Lucid hallucinations were not something you'd heard of so how...

Thinking that all you needed was a good nights sleep, you made your way home. The keys jingle in the lock as you twist them around in your hand. Kicking your damned heels off, you stumble into the kitchen.

Your hands still had a slight tremble to them as you poured yourself a glass of wine. Drinking on weekdays, alone, wasn't usually your forte but you figured that you needed it if you wanted to get any sleep tonight.

Bringing the glass to your lips you take a sip. "Didn't take you for a drinker", Taehyun's voice is loud, it feels as if its coming from within you. It startles you and the glass slips out of your hands and shatters onto the floor. Red liquor coating the wooden planks.

"Fuck", you look up to be met with Taehyun's figure on the other side of the countertop. "You followed me?". Taehyun shrugs, "if that's what you can call it".

You frown, this was way out of your level of knowledge. You had never heard of a spirit taking a physical form, even less clinging to a host. Were you the only one that could see him? Was that why he vanished when Mrs Kang entered the room?

"I don't understand...", you study his face, unable to read it. "I wish I did but it seems I am as clueless as you are", he says as he leans his forearms on the counter.

"I...I did nothing different today", you mumble as your mind retraces the events of the day. "Then how are you able to take on a physical form? granted I'm not going crazy of course".

"I couldn't, not before at least", he drawls, "then you came along", he smirks, "and suddenly I could". You thought you might've officially lost it now.

You cross your arms, "it doesn't explain why you're following me of all". He frowns, "you're the only one who will listen", he leans closer over the countertop, "I thought you knew that already".

I'm the only one who will listen? He had to imply that others did not see nor hear him. You chew on your bottom lip nervously, "you have to excuse my manners earlier", he grins, "it's been ages since I last had human interaction".

His words make your eyes snap back to him. That's right, he wasn't human, not anymore. He was a ghost, and the only reason he was still here was because he's either watching over someone, or he's unable to move on.

"Why don't you let your soul continue? Why do you still cling to this world?" you ask. Taehyun's expression visibly darkens to the point where he almost looks demonic. "I've got unfinished business here", his words are almost inaudible.

"Unfinished business? what kind?" you press for answers but Taehyun remains quiet. "Does it have anything to do with your mom? your friends? your music?". Every question has his muscles tensing further until he slams his fist down on the countertop, "quiet, please".

You gulp, his knuckles leave a small dent in the marble stone but his hand remains untainted. Despite his harsh outburst another question bubbles at the surface that is your mind. You can't help but ask it.

"Was...was your death not an accident?"

Taehyun's dark eyes find yours as he locks them in place. It feels as if the room temperature dropped at least ten degrees and a shiver creeps up your spine. Yet you stand your ground as you refuse to break eye contact with the ghost.

It's quiet for what feels like forever until the soft rattling of keys from somewhere in the hallway grabs your attention. "Babe, 'm home", a voice calls out and soon Yeonjun comes into vision.

He's carrying two bags of groceries as he sets them down on the countertop. "Hey, you okay? you look like you've seen a ghost", he says as he makes his way around the counter to you.

"I...", you eyes flicker between your boyfriend and the now empty spot where Taehyun had previously been. "Shit, what happened here?", he asks as he bends down to pick up the remains of the wine glass. You had completely forgot about that.

"Oh, right I...I'm just tired I, I was going to clean it up", you rush to help him but a hand on your wrist stops you. "Go rest, babe", Yeonjun smiles as he gives your forehead a kiss, "I'll make us dinner, yeah?".

After the two of you have eaten you offer to do the dishes since Yeonjun had been nice enough to cook for the two of you. Yet you felt your hands trembling as you turned the plates over in your hands.

The whole day had put your body in a state of constant unease and you felt watched at all times. Lean arms wrap around your waist causing you to jump in surprise, the plate falls out of your hands and down in the sink again. Luckily it doesn't break.

"What's wrong, babe?" Yeonjun asks against your neck as he presses a soft kiss to it. You shake your head, "it's just been a long day", you say, and it's partly the truth. Your boyfriend hums as he turns the sink off, "I'll finish it up, do you want me to stay the night?".

Not even thirty minutes later you're laid in bed, your boyfriend's arm draped across your waist as the comforting sounds of his snores fill the room.

Though you hadn't seen Taehyun since earlier that evening you still felt that he was there. You didn't know why but it put you on edge and it wasn't until the early morning hours when you finally fell asleep.

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, as you make your way into the kitchen the dishes are done for you. A small note is placed on the fridge, "leftovers packed in the fridge for lunch, don't forget to eat, ─ love Yeonjun".

You smile as your fingers trace the outline of the small note. Glancing over at the oven clock confirms the fact that you had indeed slept in. Though your next client wasn't until this afternoon, it gave you plenty of time to get ready.

You don't see Taehyun, not when you shower, blow dry your hair, eat your breakfast or do your makeup. Leaving your supplies in the car the day before meant that it was only for you to get going. One last look in the mirror and you're off.

The google maps on your car glitches a couple times making your way to the client's house a huge detour. Nonetheless you still manage to make it in time.

When you arrive you're greeted by the younger man who'd called. He looked your age, perhaps even younger. He led you through the small hallway and kitchen into a cute living room.

The house spoke to you in many ways and you found yourself admiring the paintings on the walls as you waited whilst he brought the two of you some water.

He sits on the sofa across from you, wiping his hands nervously on his pants. You smile, "I understand that you have called me regarding your late grandfather, correct?", he nods.

"He passed almost four years ago...", he says as he looks down at his hands. "May I ask how?", your voice is soft as you place your hands on your lap. "Cancer", he says and you nod, "I am incredibly sorry for your loss", you reach a hand out to grab his.

His eyes widen as they travel between yours and the way your hands interlinked. "If you trust me, I will be happy to reach out to him for you", you say and the man nods.

"I will require both of your hands", you say as you extend your other hand, he quickly takes it. His hands feel sweaty against your own, probably nerves you thought.

Closing your eyes you search for that familiar pull on your chest. When you find it you instantly smile, the pull is soft and gentle, like that of an old person.

"Mr Park, my name is y/n, I'm here with your grandson", you say. The pull on your chest instantly blooms into warmth. "He's here", you smile.

As you blow out the small candle the pull on your chest seizes. The man is quick to thank you over and over. You notice how his hands still haven't let go of yours.

"He likes you".

Taehyun's voice is a stark contrast to that of the man in front of you as he sits on the sofa next to him. If you were surprised by his appearance the man in front of you hadn't seemed to notice.

You frown toward Taehyun, but his gaze is fixated on the man next to him. "I uhm, I wanted to say that I really admire the work you do.." he says shyly and you smile.

"What an ass kisser", Taehyun comments in a disgusted tone, "he just wants to get you in bed, it's written all over him", he grimaces. You ignore him as you offer the man a smile. "Thank you", you say as you squeeze his hands in an attempt to make him let go.

He lets go as he nervously begins to fiddle with his fingers, "I was hoping...no, wanting to ask if...", he clears his throat nervously, "if maybe I could see you again?" You nod, "if you would like to request my services again that's completely fine just-"

"No I...I was wondering if I could see you...", he says as his face flushes with color. Oh. Taehyun scoffs and averts his gaze, arms folding over his chest.

"I'm uh, I'm afraid that's not possible", you say as you rub your wrist awkwardly. He quickly nods and clears his throat, "right, of course, it's quite alright", he reassures as he stands up. "I'll see you out?", you give him an awkward smile as you nod. "That would be nice".

Despite having had a shower that same morning your body yearned for a second one. The sweat of that man felt as if It clung to you and the whole situation had been so awkward that you just wanted to get in the shower and wash it all off.

The warm water cascaded down your body and your ran your fingers through your hair. For some reason you found your mind wandering to Taehyun and you didn't like it. He made you feel an unexplainable way.

He had pestered you all way home, dodging all your questions about him and somehow always managing to turn the conversation around on you. Only for him to disappear once the car parked outside your apartment.

"He was practically fucking you with his eyes the whole time", he said as he leaned back against the leather of the passenger seat. You roll your eyes, "he wasn't".

Taehyun snorts, "how would you know, you kept your eyes shut the majority of it". Your hands grip the steering wheel tighter, "what's it to you anyway?".

He looks you up and down as he grins, "nothing really". You sigh, "then why bring it up in the first place", you mumble as you keep your eyes on the road ahead. Taehyun doesn't answer.

The warm water did little to ease the tension in your muscles and you turned the shower off and got out. Wrapping a towel around your body you begin running your hands through your wet hair.

A cool sensation against your neck has you spinning around only to be met with nothing but air. You frown as you turn back to the mirror, grabbing the blow dryer as you plug it in.

A cold hand on your shoulder makes you jump and you turn around to come face to face with Taehyun. "What the fuck!" you shriek as you pull the towel closer around yourself.

"Just because you can appear at your own will doesn't give you the right to invade my privacy", you retort as you cross your arms over your chest tightly.

A smirk creeps its way up on his face, "this is the least I've invaded your privacy so far", he says as he takes a step toward you. "You think?" you snap back.

Taehyun tilts his head to the side before vanishing. His voice echoes through your mind, "would you rather I stay up here?". The sensation has your head pounding and you press a palm against your forehead. "No, get out", you order and to your surprise he complies.

A fragment of a second later he's in front of you again, a smirk on his face. He reaches a pale hand up to trace your jawline and neck. His fingers are cold as they leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"What are you.."

"I like you".

His words have your eyes widening but Taehyun's expression is indifferent. "What?" Your tone does little to hide your disbelief.

Taehyun's thumb grazes your bottom lip, and you let him. Why? you didn't have an answer. "I said I like you", he repeats as his hand falls back to his side.

You shake your head, "you don't, you're confused, it's normal your soul is in a transitional state". He chuckles, "you think you got me all figured out huh?". You frown, "what are you implying?".

He takes a step closer, cold chest almost touching your warm one. "I'm...drawn to you", he speaks slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. You sigh, "because I'm the first person you've interacted with since your death, it'll pass", you assure.

"Really?" he asks, a playful grin on his face. "What am I to do until then?" his lips form into a slight pout. You were sure he could hear your heart literally pounding out of your chest.

The sharp ring of your doorbell has him gone in a second. You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. Remembering that you had ordered takeout before your shower quickly has your mind shifting. Pulling on a robe you make your way to the door as you retrieve your food. Sitting down on the sofa, you pull out your phone to text Yeonjun.

"Come over tonight."

The bed squeaks in rhythm to the deep thrusts of your boyfriend as he pounds you into the mattress. Bare legs wrapped around his waist your long nails claw at his back.

His hand grips onto the headboard as the other gently caresses your cheek. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous tonight, babe", he groans as his face contorts into one of pleasure.

Your lips part in a soft moan as your back arches off the bed. Sex with Yeonjun was bliss. It always seemed to get your mind off things and relax you.

His head dips down to kiss and suck at your neck and your eyes flutter closed in pleasure. When they open again your heart almost stops as you find Taehyun's eyes staring right back at your own.

Hands in his pockets he leans against the wall as he looks at you. Only you, it's as if he's not even registering that Yeonjun is present. His gaze moves from your fucked out face, down your naked body. It stops at your core, as Yeonjun's cock slides in and out of your throbbing cunt. He stares shamelessly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Your grip on your boyfriends hair grow painfully harsh earning a soft groan from Yeonjun, "need more?", he asks. You nod, your eyes locked with Taehyun's as you speak, "yes, need it so bad".

The night Taehyun had watched you get fucked out by your boyfriend had been the last time you saw him. Four days had passed without as much as a peep from him.

You were relieved, ready to put it all behind you. Writing it off as a weird hallucination of sort. It must've all been in your head. Though a part of you, a very small part, felt weird.

It wasn't that you missed him, you thought. But something was gnawing away at you every moment spent without even feeling the presence of his soul, tugging at your chest.

You had even for a split moment considered to bring out your supplies and summon him yourself. Thought you quickly discarded the idea again.

Your days were slow, uneventful and almost boring. Yeonjun was away on a business trip and you had spent the past nights alone in your dark bedroom. He wouldn't be home for another three days, you groaned at the thought.

Scrolling mindlessly on your phone as the late evening turns into early night. You didn't have any clients tomorrow so you didn't see an issue with staying up.

By 2am your eyes finally began to feel heavy. Putting your phone away you pulled the blanket over yourself as you got comfortable. You had almost drifted off into a deep sleep when the light squeak of the floorboards made your eyes snap open.

Sitting up, you pulled the covers closer to your chest as you squinted in the darkness. It was quiet, but you knew that you weren't alone. The tugging sensation in your chest had returned, he had returned.

"Taehyun..?" your voice is barely above a whisper but a soft hum coming from somewhere in the room confirms your suspicions. Carefully reaching over, you flick on the lamp on the bedside table.

The room is immediately cast in a dim light as Taehyun's figure comes into vision. He's standing exactly where he had been, four days ago.

Was it bad that you were relieved to see him? Probably. Yet you couldn't hide the smile etching its way to your face.

Something was different about him, you couldn't pin point it until your gaze met his. Dark eyes were piercing yours much like they had the first time you met, but this time they held something else, lust.

You barely have time to blink and he's by your side. Standing next to the bed he towers over you from where you're sitting. Cold fingers slide under your chin as he turns your face up.

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen, "T-Taehyun..?". His thumb pulls at your bottom lip before he lets it go. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he takes a few steps back.

Left confused you shift awkwardly on the bed. "What's going on...?", you whisper, he doesn't reply. It's strange, you hadn't seen or heard from him for four days and now, he just shows up acting all strange without even speaking to you.

"Listen Taehyun, I..", your words get stuck in your throat as he suddenly appears in front of you. Your back is pushed against the headboard as Taehyun cages you against it. Arms on either side of your head, his hands grip the headboard tightly. His knees hit the soft mattress as he straddles you.

"You what?", he asks, his voice is low, rumbling from deep in his chest. You swallow, "I...uhm...I...", your eyes shift from his own to his lips. Your tongue subconsciously darts out to wet your lips as your gaze travels back up to his eyes.

Taehyun lets out a frustrated groan as he mumbles something under his breath. You can't make the words out and before you know it his lips are on yours.

Your eyes widen but only for a moment before they flutter closed. His lips are cool against yours, but it's not unpleasant. The kiss is tender but it's full of desire. A sense of longing and yearning emits from him as his lips move softly against yours.

Though Taehyun is quick to pull back, he studies your face for a reaction. You bite your bottom lip softly as your gaze falls on his lips. "One more", he breathes out before crashing his lips against yours once again.

This time he doesn't hold back as his tongue forces its way inside your mouth. You happily comply as your lips part, your hands find their way to his hair, tugging softly at the ends.

Teeth clash together as Taehyun presses himself impossibly closer to you. His hands move from the headboard to gently cup your cheeks. His touch is electrifying.

But is it right? Your mind goes to Yeonjun, your boyfriend. You had a boyfriend for christ's sake, yet here you are making out with...with a ghost.

Could it count as cheating if he wasn't even a real person? You didn't know, and in that moment you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Taehyun is first to pull away as you chase after his lips, a soft whine emitting at the loss of him. He smirks, "so eager", he coos as his thumb massages your saliva coated lips.

His other hand finds the end of your blanket as he pulls it down. You're wearing nothing but your satin nightgown, it barely reaches your upper thighs. Perked nipples prominent through the thin fabric.

"Don't tell me you've been getting this dolled up every night", he mumbles as cold fingers trail along your collarbone, down the centre of your chest.

You shiver as you squirm under him, "you wear this for him too?", he glances up toward you. You bite your lip as you shake your head no. You usually wore something more comfortable to bed, but the past four days had been affecting you greatly. Perhaps it was the absence of your boyfriend, or maybe it was the absence of the soul you had grown so accustomed to in such a short time.

Taehyun hums in approval as he pushes the thin gown over your hips, revealing the white lace concealing your aching core from him. Index finger finds the hem of your panties as he pulls it up, "and these?".

Your face flushes all shades of red as your eyes meet his, "they're new..", you whisper. Taehyun lets go of the fabric wrapped around his finger, it snaps back against your skin.

"A shame for them to get ruined on their first wear", he says as he presses his thumb against your clothed clit. A soft gasp escapes your lips as your thighs twitch slightly. "But you don't mind do you, angel?"

The nickname catches you off guard, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. His other hand rubs small circles on your hip as his fingers on your clit move your panties to the side.

"Knew you'd be fucking perfect", he slides two fingers inside of you without much struggle and you arch off the bed with a whimper. The hand on your hip holds you back down against the mattress as Taehyun watches his fingers slide in and out of your dripping pussy.

"That boyfriend of yours aint enough?" he tilts his head as he looks at you, your lips parted as soft moans spill from your mouth. "Greedy fucking bitch", his fingers curl inside of you making you cry out in pleasure, "one guy aint enough for you?"

You shake your head, "n...need you", you whimper. Taehyun hums softly, "you will". He retracts his fingers making you whine at the loss of contact, "let me taste you first, dollface".

His fingers are quickly replaced by his soft breath as he inhales the scent of you. "Smell like fucking heaven, angel", he groans, "bet you taste like it too".

Your thighs clench around his head as he presses his tongue flat against your clit. Hands in his hair, you force his face closer to your throbbing cunt. Soft whines and moans leave your lips and when he inserts his tongue you swear you see stars.

Air wasn't a necessity for Taehyun and he used it to his advantage as he devoures your cunt like it was his last meal, ironically enough it could've been.

Cold hands caresses your plush thighs as they tremble under his ministrations. A familiar feeling fills your stomach as your climax approaches. Taehyun looks up from between your legs and you swear that the way he looked at you almost made you orgasm on the spot.

"Gonna give me a taste of your heaven, angel?"

You whimper as your orgasm cruises through you, Taehyun is quick to greedily lick and feast on your high, his nose stimulating your clit as he does in an almost taunting way.

Once your legs stop trembling he finally sits up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. You're left a panting mess as you lock eyes with him. "Can you give me one more, dollface?" he asks as one of his hands palms himself through his jeans. You eagerly nod.

His smirk is the last thing you see before he grabs you by your thighs, pulling you down so that you lay flat on your back. Propping himself up on one arm Taehyun leans over you, fingers brushing a strand of hair out of your face as the tip of his cock prods at your cunt.

He leans down to connect your lips with his as he slides himself inside. Thick cock stretching you out in a blissful way, you moan against his lips.

"Greedy fucking pussy sucking me in like it's been starved", he says as his lips move down your neck and collarbone. He moves slowly, filling you out with each thrust. "Bet it has", he says as he teeth graze the flesh of your breast.

"Your boyfriend is sloppy", he grunts as he thrusts back inside of you, "doesn't know that he's got heaven right in front of him". His mouth finds your nipple through the thin material of your nightgown, twisting and pulling it between his teeth.

You whimper and feel yourself clench around him, pulling a groan from Taehyun as he sucks marks onto your chest and neck. One of his hands travels down your thighs, pushing it up, allowing him to sink deeper into you as you both moan in union.

"Shit angel, you were made for me", he breathes out as your lips find each other in a messy exchange of kisses. Pulling away for a short moment, his dark lustful eyes pierce yours, "still think I'm not real, angel?", he taunts as he moves in and out of you slowly.

"Just shut up and kiss me", you moan as you pull his lips back down on yours again. You can feel his smirk against your lips as he snaps his hips against yours, earning a loud cry from you.

Your breath grows short and ragged as you feel your second orgasm of the night approach. Taehyun's thumb finds your abused clit as he rubs it teasingly. "Gonna cum for me a second time, angel?"

Your cunt throbs around him as you release all over his cock, hands pulling at his hair as a soft whimper escapes your lips. Taehyun's teeth graze your skin as he buries his face in your neck, a low groan leaving his lips as he finishes deep inside of you.

The sensation is unlike anything you've felt with anyone before, not even with Yeonjun. Taehyun rests his forehead against your as he waits for you to catch your breath, the perks of being dead you suppose.

His gaze remains lustful as he studies your face but there's something else too. The back of his hand gently caresses your cheek as he speaks, "my room, on the desk, top drawer to the right, there's a blue USB stick, take it".

His words confuse you, but he doesn't let you overthink it as he reconnects your lips in a soft kiss.

When you wake up the next morning Taehyun is gone. At first you think that the previous night might've just been a feverish dream, but the mess that were your bedsheets and your missing panties told you otherwise.

A warm shower later you're sat by the TV. Taehyun's words from the night before still ringing in your ears. "USB stick, desk, top right drawer", what did significance did the small device hold? There was only one way to find out.

You still knew the way to Mrs. Kang's apartment, she greeted you with a smile. After a rather long moment of small talk you find yourself in Taehyun's room.

Heading straight for his desk you pull out the top drawer to the right. And just like he said there it was, a small blue USB stick, you take it.

When you arrive back home you rush to your computer, as you plug it in a small set of files pop up. Curious you click the first one, at first it's dark, you frown, was it broken?

Then an image floods the screen, no a video, your eyes widen, it's a dash cam. More specifically it's the dash cam of the car that had taken Taehyun's life.

Anxiously you skip ahead, it's not until a few days later when the event actually takes place. Taehyun passes by the front of the car as he makes his way to the passenger seat.

While in the car you can only make out their voices, the engine roars to life as the car starts moving. They drive for a good thirty minutes, their conversation shifting between ordinary subjects.

It's not until they make it out on the highway that things start going wrong.

"Hey, slow down", Taehyun says. The car is visibly moving faster than the ones surrounding them. "I'm trying!" his friend then exclaims, his voice slightly panicked.

"What the fuck do you mean? Just slow down!", Taehyun's voice rises, and his friend curses under his breath. "I fucking told you I'm trying, it's not working the brakes..."

You close your laptop. You don't want to see what you already know is bound to happen. Though it's clear that someone messed with the car beforehand.

Taking a deep breath you reopen your laptop, clicking off the file you go back in time. It takes you a couple of hours to go through all the footage but then you find it.

Almost five days earlier, a man you don't recognise comes into frame. He walks around the car a few times, slowly, cautiously as he scans the area.

Then he gets inside, so he had a key? You don't exactly know what he's doing but you know enough to be certain that he's not fixing the oil. After a mere five minutes he exits the car and leaves.

That's what Taehyun wanted you to see. It wasn't a car accident, it was murder. And the person guilty was yet to be caught. It would explain why he wasn't able to move on.

You had to get this USB stick in the right hands. And that's exactly what you did.

The footage proved to be crucial evidence directly linking the man to the crime. He had turned out to be a direct family member of Taehyun's friend.

When Mrs Kang found out she was heartbroken. Though she thanked you immensely for finding out the truth behind her son's passing. You continued to visit her regularly after that.

You never saw Taehyun again, but every now and then a warm pull at your chest would remind you of his gratitude toward you and that he was forever indebted to you.

#txt #txt fanfic #kang taehyun #txt post #taehyun fanfic #taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #txt taehyun #beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #beomiracles hard thoughts ✧˖#tyunnie's dreams

545 notes · View notes

into-the-grey · 2 months ago

Text

Rehab (18+)

Noah Sebastian x F!Reader

You've been through some things that no one should ever have to go through. You're determined to reclaim your body and your pleasure, and Noah is more than willing to help...

Warnings: Allusions to SA, Oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V (PLS Wrap it), mentions of assault scars, mild panic attack signs, some dirty talk and praise, possibly more, I'm really bad at warnings

Taglist: @anything-more-than-human @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc

WC: 2.1k

Fic Masterlist

Look I had another story that got a little heavy so I trashed it, but I really liked this scene...

Noah stood in front of her, his hands behind his back as he looked down to her nervous brown eyes.

'You're in control,' he told her softly. 'Anything you want, it's yours, all you have to do is say it.'

Y/N eyed him warily. 'So if I tell you not to move-?'

'Then I won't move.'

'Okay...' she nodded slowly, 'so don't move, within reason.'

Noah nodded once before freezing in place. Y/N took a tentative step towards him, gingerly placing her hand on his chest.

Beneath his shirt she could feel his heart hammering behind his ribs. She let her hand run across the black fabric, trailing down to the hem. Timidly, she began to lift his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Noah only moved to help her take it off, immediately returning to his position once he was free of the shirt.

'Close your eyes' she said softly.

Her fingers lightly traced his tattoos, her skin cool against his. Noah closed his eyes, hanging his head and chewing his lip. He desperately wanted to kiss her, but she was in control. She needed to be in control.

Slowly her fingers traced lower. Her shaking fingers curled into his waistband, tugging his sweatpants down. His underwear dropped with them, landing on the carpet quietly. He stepped free of the pile of fabric, kicking it away and returning to his pose.

Noah could hear her stuttered breaths as she looked at him.

'It's okay,' he said gently, 'you have all the power here.'

'I know,' she whispered. She took a deep breath, stepping closer and reaching for his face, her soft hands on his cheeks.

She lifted his head just enough to press her lips to his. Noah could taste the salt on her lips, her tears dribbling down her face.

'We can stop,' he told her, 'you don't need to push yourself.'

'No,' she told him, her body brushing against his. Her skin against his torso caught him off guard. 'I want to keep going. I'm just scared.'

'Okay,' he breathed, letting her pull him into another kiss. Her lips were feather-light against his, his stomach flipping with each taste.

'I want you to undress me...'

With a nod, he slowly shifted in place. His arms moved from behind his back, cautiously resting on her back as she let her lips come back to his. His fingers found the clasp of her bra, unhooking it with ease and guiding it off of her.

Her bare chest pressed against his, her heart pounding heavily in her chest.

'Are you okay?' He asked, his voice low as his hands sank to her pants.

'Mhmm,' she hummed, letting him slip her pants and underwear down. She copied him, stepping out of the fabric and kicking it away. She stepped back from him, taking his hands in hers and breathing deeply. 'Open your eyes,' she told him.

Noah abided, opening his eyes and taking in the sight of her. Her body was marred with eight deep pink scars, mostly concentrated around her legs and belly. One traced around the right side of her ribs, almost tracing one of the bones. Another broke his heart, seeing the old stab wound that marred her chest. The blade must have missed anything major by only millimetres.

A dark gash ran across her lower belly, a sign of the surgery she had needed to remove her ovary. Seeing the damage for the first time, his heart twisted. How did she survive?

'It's a lot to see,' Y/N said, her eyes low with shame. 'I still can't look at it-'

'Y/N,' Noah cut her off, 'don't. You are still as beautiful as the day I met you. All this is, is proof of how unbelievable you are. I'm not afraid of this, and I still love you, okay?'

She nodded, chewing her lip. 'Okay.' She stepped closer to him, taking his hands and guiding them to her waist. 'I'm still nervous...'

'It's okay,' he assured her, 'take your time.'

'I don't really know what to do from here,' she admitted sheepishly.

Noah smiled, chuckling softly. 'Do you want some help?'

'Please? Just, go slow, no surprises?'

'Of course.'

With a smile, Noah guided her to the bed, sitting her down on the edge and kneeling down in front of her.

'Lean back a little and put your legs on my shoulders,' he instructed. Y/N carefully followed his instructions, her legs hanging over him and his face hovering just in front of her.

'Noah...' she breathed, 'what if I can't do this?'

'All you have to do is tell me to stop, and I'll stop. No questions asked.'

Y/N chewed her lip for a moment before she nodded. 'Okay.'

Gently, Noah dipped down; his tongue slipped through her folds with ease, brushing her clitoris and sending a wave of tingles through her lower body.

She gasped softly, feeling him establish a rhythm with his tongue. Bit by bit, she leaned herself back to rest on her elbows and opened her legs for easier access.

Noah hummed between her thighs, revelling in the sound of her sighs. He held a hand up, raising only his middle and fourth fingers.

'Yeah,' she said, understanding what he was saying.

His tongue paused its languid strokes as those two fingers found her entrance, dipping slowly into her. Her back arched as his fingers slid deep, her pussy enveloping him knuckle by knuckle.

'You're doing so good, baby,' Noah told her, resting his other hand on her thigh. 'Just listen to your body, okay? Stay out of your head. How does it feel?'

'It feels so good,' she sighed, waiting for him to move. Gingerly, Noah began to curl his fingers, his fingertips stroking her plush walls. Her head tipped back, a quiet moan leaving her throat as he touched her, searching for the perfect spot.

'God, you look gorgeous,' he breathed against her, wishing he could sink his teeth into her thighs. Instead, he sank back into her, his tongue resuming its lush patterns.

Y/N shuddered under his touches. Her skin felt electric, and each touch sent shockwaves across her body. Letting her eyes close, she let herself be overcome with the sensations. Each stroke, each circle, each tremble and flex.

Her wetness mixed with Noah's saliva, dribbling down onto the bed. His other hand kept a strong grip on her leg, cautiously stroking her skin.

A tingle began to build in her core, a spark of need. Each time Noah flicked his tongue, the spark grew, stealing her breath away.

'Oh fuck,' she whispered, 'Noah...'

Noah's cock twitched at her voice, jealous of his fingers. But he had her, he wasn't going to stop until she asked. Pushing his fingers deeper, his fingertips grazed across a fleshy spot on her upper wall, and her body trembled at the touch.

The spark ignited, coursing through her veins and lighting her on fire. The edge of an orgasm smouldered in her cunt, her muscles contracting around his fingers and begging for more.

'Noah, I think I'm gonna come...' she moaned.

Noah's tongue left her clit, his thumb taking its place. 'Do you want to come now, or do you want to try and go further?'

She gasped, her walls closing around his fingers as he stroked the bump again. Sweat began to bead on her flushed skin and she chewed her lip as a whine left her throat.

'Oh, shit, both,' she whimpered.

'Greedy,' Noah chuckled, kissing her thigh, 'but I'll allow it.'

He plunged his tongue back into her clit, smirking at the sounds of her pleasure. Her orgasm was building, and he knew what she needed.

The smouldering became a blaze, the warm feeling filling her body as her lower belly grew tight. Her mouth hung open, undignified moans and whines mingling with heaving breaths as Noah found the perfect spot.

'Don't stop,' she begged, 'it's right there, please don't stop.'

Noah wished his mouth was free to say all the things he wanted to say, but he wasn't about to disobey an order. Holding steady, he listened, his cock throbbing in envy as she crested her high.

Her voice tightened, her breaths staggered, and her pussy squeezed his fingers tightly, begging him not to stop.

'Oh shit, Noah, fuck,' she squealed as her climax short circuited her brain. Her fingers tangled into his hair as she searched for anything to hold on to.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, kissing her skin before looking her over. She laid panting, her chest heaving as he lowered her legs.

'Are you sure you have another one in you?' He asked with a smile.

'I don't care if I do or don't, please, try,' she said with a breathy laugh.

Noah chuckled, standing up. 'You'll need to move further onto the bed.'

Eager, Y/N shifted, shimmying her way to the middle of the mattress. Noah followed her closely, hovering over her.

'I love you,' he whispered, kissing her sweetly.

'I love you more.'

His wet tip grazed her skin in search of her entrance, teasing her as he positioned himself.

'Ready?' He asked softly. Y/N nodded, kissing him again and breathing sharply as his tip brushed her swollen clit.

Noah reached down, aligning himself, and slowly began to sink into her. Her pussy was swollen and tight, her warmth enveloped him as he inched his way in. Their sighs mingled in the space between them, their eyes closing and revelling in the feeling.

'How do you feel?' He asked softly.

'Good,' she assured him, 'so, so good.'

'Good,' he said with a laugh, 'that's my girl.'

Y/N's muscles clamped on his cock at the phrase, earning a smirk from Noah. 'You like that? When I praise you?'

'Yes,' she nodded.

'My beautiful girl, do you like how it feels when I fill you? Is it better than my fingers?' Noah purred, rolling his hips against her and feeling his length drag across her favourite spot.

'Mhmm,' she moaned, biting down on her lip.

'Oh, baby girl,' he tutted, drawing out of her and easing back in at an agonisingly slow pace. 'Don't try and hide your sounds from me now, I like it when I hear you. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.'

'Noah... oh god,' Y/N whimpered, her eyes rolling back as his hand ran through her hair.

'You're my beautiful girl, aren't you? You look so good when you come... can you show me again?'

Y/N's muscles flexed again, and Noah began to speed up his thrusts, shortening them so the ridge of his tip tormented her g spot. Her mouth fell open as she gasped, her nails sinking into his back.

'Holy fuck, Noah.'

'Are you gonna come for me? Show me how perfect you are, come for me, princess.'

'Noah, please.' Y/N felt the smouldering in her body become a blaze yet again, this time hotter than the last. Her whole body shook with tension, sweat dripping from her brow as Noah's thrusts deepened.

'It's just you and me, baby. Scream for me,' Noah coaxed. 'Scream, I want to feel you fall apart.'

Grabbing at his back, Y/N bit into Noah's shoulder, the blaze turning to fireworks.

'Oh fuck, oh fuck...' she whimpered against him, 'I'm so close, please.'

'Do you want me to come inside you, princess?' Noah purred, nipping at her neck. 'You want my cum dripping from your pretty pussy?'

'Oh god, yes.'

'My beautiful girl, wring it out of me. Come hard for me and squeeze my cock dry, earn it baby girl.'

Diving down to her neck, Noah kissed her flushed skin, forcing her head up so he could suck on her pulse point. Licking her skin, nipping at her, rolling her nipple in his fingers, her pussy flexed and spasmed at the feelings.

Her mouth hung open, her cunt squeezed Noah's length hard as she raced towards another high. Noah's own orgasm chased hers like a fox after a rabbit.

'Good girl, come for me princess,' he groaned, deepening his stroke. 'God, I'm so fucking close. I'm gonna come, baby.'

'Noah, don't stop, I'm coming,' Y/N cried, her arms wrapping around his neck and holding tight as an earth shattering scream of ecstasy left her throat.

'Oh fuck, baby I'm coming, Jesus fuck I'm gonna come.'

Suddenly freezing, Y/N squealed as Noah plunged his cock deep into her throbbing pussy. His cum shot out in thick ropes, filling her with warmth.

'Holy shit,' he panted, collapsing on top of her, 'I love you.'

'I love you, so much.'

'And you're okay? Did it do anything?'

'I'm okay,' she confirmed, nodding weakly. 'No flashbacks, no panic attacks. I'm a little shaky, but I think that's normal,' she said with a flushed smile.

'Definitely normal,' he grinned, kissing her.

Chuckling, she raised a shaky hand and brushed a strand of hair from Noah's eyes. 'I think I like rehab.'

'I think I do too.'

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah bad omens #badomenscult #bad omens band #badomens #bad omens smut

267 notes · View notes

sebastainstansupremacy · 3 months ago

Text

Sea Salt

Pairing - JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, teasing, piv sex, public sex, choking, daddy kink, use of pet names. Not proofread!

Word Count - 2978

Summary - Rising temperatures mean spending the day at the beach with the Pogues. And with you looking oh so tempting in that skimpy little bikini, JJ can't help but take you for a swim.

One thing about your friends was they never missed an opportunity to spend their days lazily longing around at the beach. And lucky for them, the scorching sun had called for exactly that. As you all trudged through the hot sand, shoes in hand letting your toes burn under the scolding floor, finding a perfect spot nestled within on of the coves far down the beach. Within seconds the boys had discarded anything they had been holding prior replacing their grips with their surfboards.

"Not so fast Maybank" you scolded, rifling through your bag trying to find the suncream you had packed earlier this morning. As soon as your hands pulled out the white bottle you saw JJ roll his eyes and huff, "ugh mom do I have to wear that?" he pouted, teasing at the fact that you mothered him, probably way more than you should. You couldn't help yourself, you were the only constant female figure in his life - you may be his girlfriend, but you felt responsible for him like you had to step up and show him a love a mother should give.

You raised your eyebrows at the boy watching him throw a fake tantrum as your friends laughed along at him. "All of you, suncream!" you exclaimed, it wasn't just JJ you mothered it was the entire group. You'd somehow become the mother of the Pogue group; you had no idea how providing the fact that it was usually you being carried home after a few too many drinks or dragged down from any surface you found fit to dance on. Maybe it was because you had a constant supply of whatever was needed to hand; bandaids? you had them. lighter? of course. snacks? always something to keep JJ quiet when he was hyper and chewing your ear off.

You'd rubbed cream all over your boyfriend making sure you take extra time massaging over his yummy abs, wouldn't want them to burn after all. Though that would mean you could lather him up in aloe vera later... maybe you should let him burn? "Your turn princess" JJ whispered against your neck, letting his hot breath linger on your skin. He took the bottle from your hand squirting all over your chest with no precaution leaving a string of white cream all over your skimpy bikini holding your tits up.

"Hmm think I've seen this one before" he joked, such a filthy mind. His hands eagerly spreading them all over your upper body, hands slipping in between the material flicking lightly at your now erect nipples. A small moan escapes your lips, JJ's face laced with a shit-eating-grin knowing it took absolutely nothing to have you putty in his hands. Your eyes flashed to your friends, unfazed by the two of you, too busy talking with one another.

JJ's greasy hands hung on your waist spinning your body so you were facing away from him, soaking in the view of the waves crashing ahead of you. His hands continuing to knead at your skin from your shoulders down to your lower back and then to your ass. His hands lightly pulling your cheeks apart letting your bikini bottoms slide between the crease. You could feel the heat rushing between your legs.

That boy knew exactly what he was doing. And with a tap of your arse and a kiss on the crown of your head, his hands left your body. Leaving you a little touch starved. Your head turning over your shoulder to see him already back with John B and Pope grabbing their surfboards. You shook away all the dirty thought from your mind and lying down next to Sarah and Kiara.

The day ticked by slowly, spending the majority of it sipping beer, watching the boys surf and gossiping with your girls about anything and everything. That's what you loved most about Kie and Sarah, even though things were not always smooth sailing especially between the two, the bond you three now shared was unbreakable.

You hand one of JJ's caps resting on your face blocking the UV from scorching your cheeks anymore than it already had, as you lay with your hands resting by your hips dozing in and out of consciousness. It was nice for all of 5 minutes until you were abruptly awoken by your lover shaking his soaked hair all over your slightly pink skin leaving you slightly gasping at the contrast of cold, salt water.

You slowly lifted the cap off your head to meet his lopsided smile and wide eyes towering over you, how could you stay mad at him. He laid behind you lifting your head so it sat across his damp trunks, sighing contently as his hands rubbed against your scalp. Your eyes flicking over to your friends each talking to their own lover in their own bubbles.

One thing about JJ was he could not sit still for 2 fucking minutes, unless he was stoned out of his mind - which was pretty frequently. And so his pestering began, 'come swim with me darlin', which you dismissed promising you would in a little while, which he knew would be a lot longer than he was willing to wait.

Your heavy lids opening when he shifted to sit up, forcing you to do the same giving him a sleepy smile as you cupped your face with his large, rough palms. "hey pretty girl, come play mermaids with me?" he pouted, he knew you loved any excuse to act like a stupid fool with him and there was nothing more idiotic than when the two of you shoved snorkels on your faces and splashed around in the sea.

But you were oh so tired and you felt so cosy resting against his lap dozing off whilst he stroked your cheek and whispered silly little facts and words at you. You hummed, conflicted with the idea of just lying with your friends and he could see that on your face but the boy was not going to take no for an answer.

So there you were being thrown over his shoulder, giggling like a school girl as he ran towards the crashing waves. Your friends shaking their head, humoured by you two fools. "How cold is it Jay?" you asked, now pouting yourself, you loved the sea and that's why you loved your life so much having such easy access to the beautiful beaches of Outer Banks, but the initial feeling of icy water against your skin always put you off, only slightly.

You didn't even have time to mentally prepare yourself for the shock of cold water as JJ dropped you down into the sea, causing a huge splash which sent your entire body below the waves. As soon as your face emerged he was wading away from you knowing what was coming, chasing after him ready to drag him below the surface in revenge.

"It's only a lil' cold baby" he joked trying to make light of the situation but watching you slightly shiver with your nipples poking through your bikini top made him feel slightly guilt. Calling truce and swimming over to you, let you rest your arms around his neck and legs around his waist providing you couldn't quite stand in this depth. But he could, he was so dreamy and tall, hands resting on your butt stroking circles across each cheek.

Your wet lashes fluttering looking at his blue eyes, full of lust and love. He used one hand to gently push your face closer to his own, noses touching. His tongue slipped out and across your lips, before you parted them allowing him unrestricted access to your mouth. Your hands running through his damp curls tugging at the ends. Your tongues gliding across one another, sucking and biting at anything the two of you could get a hold of.

"You taste salty" you laughed in between kisses. "You taste so fuckin' good" he growled back, his mouth parting with yours and latching onto your neck peppering it with wet kissed, biting slightly at your ear before whispering into it, "And I can't wait to taste something even fuckin' better later". And with that he let go of your waist leaving you to tread the water as he splashed around you.

Those words left your cunt aching, desperate for his thigh, his fingers, his tongue, his dick, anything and everything. If there was one thing you knew about that boy it was that he would alway act nonchalant after teasing you and leaving you a desperate mess, even though you knew he would most certainly have a raging boner, he'd never show it on his face. You took a sharp deep breath trying to compose your self and swimming over to him joining in his splashing antics.

The two of you had spent longer than you'd like to admit 'playing mermaids', telling each other 'watch this' before doing a handstand under the water or some sort of silly trick like you were kids. It was JJ's turn to show off his next 'impressive skill', he swam towards you with a cheesy grin and suggestive eyes, "watch this bae" he winked before plummeting below the surface.

Your eyes squint at the water, the reflecting rays making it hard to work out where he was until you felt his hand graze your foot, then your calf, then your thigh and then in between your legs. Your breath hitched, a slight moan caught in your throat and before you could process what exactly it was he was doing you felt the cold water against your now exposed lower half.

That little shit had skilfully untied your bikini bottoms and swam further into the ocean with them. Your eyes widened. It wasn't the first time you were bathing the nude, you and your friends were partial to a skinny dip but that was usually when you had alcohol fuelling your system and it was way past midnight.

"JJ Maybank! Get back here right now!" Your voice laced with warning. He'd push his luck, he always did. And that's why you were following the blonde further into the sea till the water was a deeper shade of blue. His hands still grasping your pathetic little excuse for bikini bottoms, flinging them around your neck and dragging you closer to him. Your exposed pussy rubbing against the fabric of his trunks, the friction causing you to moan.

"That's right baby, no one can he you out here, moan as loud as you can for me" he teased, his eyes slightly darker in this state. He tugged at the material around your neck pulling you closer, latching his lips against yours whilst you grind your hips against his rock hard cock. Even in the depth of water you could feel your core was dripping wet, begging for his dick to be deep inside of it.

Your hands leave his shoulders, fumbling around with the elasticated waist band of his swim wear, tugging them down slightly just enough for his very large and very erect cock to spring free. Hitting your clit as it escaped the restrictions of his pants. Your hand positioning his length to rub against your folds, causing him to moan against your lips.

"You feel so good mama" he panted, his lips licking up and down your salty skin. Sucking lightly at your neck, not enough to leave marks. He'd do that later, when he was balls deep inside your pretty little cunt painting your tits a dark huge of purple. You continued rubbing against him, eyes rolling back as you lined his tip up with your entrance, not quite allowing him to push his full length into you. "Quit teasin' baby, let daddy fuck that little hole of yours yeah?" he whispered.

You nodded, giving into him, as much as you'd love to have teased him just as much as he had been teasing you all day - you couldn't deny the feeling of his girth stretching out your tight pussy. Lower yourself onto his dick slowly, he didn't move, not yet, allowing you to adjust to the slight sting your cunt felt being opened up as he always did. The salt water not quite helping the situation, causing tears to gather in your eyes.

"Shh pretty girl, no need to cry gonna take such good care of you" he soothed, his dick twitching slightly at the feeling of your walls squeezing against him. He was trying his best to start of slow, but being that you were both so far out into the ocean, his legs were treading carefully to keep you both afloat which was causing his cock to shift up deeper into you.

It didn't take long for your aching pussy to adjust, begging for him to thrust deep. And that he did, frantically pushing his hips against yours. The both of you panting frantically, him more than yourself considering he was doing the majority of the work alongside keep both your faces above the water. Lips hungrily finding one another again, salt water occasionally splashing into your mouth, not that you minded you enjoyed having salty liquid fill your throat...

You knew you wouldn't last long, you'd been dripping wet the moment you saw JJ pull his shirt over his head earlier that day revealing his huge biceps and toned abs, he really was your weakness. The feeling of his dick pumping in and out of your tight little cunt tapping against your cervix threatening to split you open, had you screaming his name. His name rolling off your tongue in such a whiney and desperate tone had him bucking his hips faster against you, his chest flush against yours. His public hair tickling your clit, the friction making you subconsciously grind against him in an aggressive manner.

You were so drunk of his dick you'd forgotten the two of you were fucking in the middle of the ocean, right in plain sight. If anyone were to look out at the two of you bobbing up and down, tightly grasping at one another, greedily kissing one another they would most definetly know exactly what you were up to. But neither of you cared, needing a release more than ever and the thrill of being so out in the open, in public, begging to cum over his dick was making this all the more better.

One of his hands dropped your bikini which was hung loosely around the back of your neck, as the now single hand grasped the other side of the material and pulling tightly behind your head choking you. Your eyes rolling back at the slight lack of oxygen mixed with the intervals of salt water splashing into your wide open mouth every time JJ flexed his hips against you. His free hand now dragging down your wet body before his thumb grazed across your swollen bud.

"Jay- Fuck- Don't... Stop" you panted bucking your hips to grind against his digits. Begging him to give you that final push over the edge. As your pussy clenched against his cock, his moans becoming louder, you were both so close. "No cummin' 'til I saw so, yeah?" he taunted. "Mhmm ye-yes daddy" you growled back, desperately shaking around him.

It only took a few rough thrusts and fast fingers toying your sensitive clit for you to be wriggling against him, screaming out his name, finger nails digging along his back that'd be sure to leave a few marks. You were coming undone, the familiar feeling brewing in your pit, your walls squeezing his cock ever so tightly pulling him into a trance. "You' gonna cum all over this dick now, aren't you mama?" he growling, coaxing you to your release.

His grip against your throat tightening as muffled moans escaped your puffy lips, your orgasm washing over you, tightening around his cock milking his cum out of him letting it paint your walls. Both slowly riding out your highs, lips finding each others once again sucking and biting against one another, piercing the skin ever so slightly. The irony taste mixing with your salty spit and your eyes rolling out the back of your head.

"Always such a good girl f' me" he whimpered, releasing the material around your neck which had left a slight mark. You didn't mind, you both loved marking your territory in one way or another. The slightly raised scratches on his back and the littered hickeys across your body a constant reminder of that. His dick slowly sliding out of your aching pussy, leaving it feeling empty, almost begging to be stuffed again. And it would as soon as you got home, he'd be worshiping your sweet pussy, licking and fingering it before filling it once more with his cum.

JJ pulled you close, planting a kiss on your forehead before flashing you a lazy smile. A yawn escaped your lips, all that swimming clearly tiring you out. "Let's get you back to dry land huh, pretty baby?" he whispered. He released you from his grasp splashing back under the water placing his lips on your sensitive bud before quickly pulling your bikini bottoms back where they belong and emerging from the water.

You giggled, "thanks merman", alluding to the stupid games you had been playing way earlier. By now the sun was slowly starting to set and your finger tips were all pruned. He turned allowing you to rest your shoulders on his back as he began your decent back to your friends, they'd probably be wondering where you had gotten to. Then again they probably knew exactly what had you both so caught up in time, some things never change and you two were always going at it like wild rabbits.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks fic #outer banks jj #outer banks smut

238 notes · View notes

hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦 - modern royalty au!lee felix x female reader

wc: 16.2k words (i’m sorry)

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: felix and mc being dumbasses part 2, no use of y/n, again a vast use of sickeningly sweet petnames, MORE ANGST, MORE FLUFF, unrequited feelings (or is it), chan being a sweet but teasing older brother, feminist bang chan, smut warnings under the cut!

synopsis: it's getting close to your arranged marriage to your best friend, and you're getting more and more conscious of the guilt you feel that he doesn't know you love him. why can't you just be honest with him for once?

a/n: this is part 2 to my fic fairy flowers - thank you all for showing so much love :D I HOPE U LIKE THIS PART TOO

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: making out, use of petnames in bed (again), oral (f&m receiving), fingering (f receiving), felix talking u through it, dirty talk (not too graphic i swear), handjobs, cum eating, loss of virginity (both), maybe a slight breeding kink or a major one idk, felix crying cos it feels too good

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’d loved Lee Felix since the day you met him, and you were soon to be married to him.

It was something that you’d hoped would diminish with age, but the feelings only seemed to get stronger with every inch you grew in height. You dreamt of your sunshine the night after his brother - the Crown Prince - interrupted you two, the scent of baby’s breath filling your nostrils. It almost distracted you from the feeling of dainty fingertips traveling softly up your thigh to between your legs. It had, of course, been only a dream, much like any of your others about your best friend.

Other than your not-real sexual trysts, the pressure of becoming a Princess was heavily weighing down your mind. You wouldn’t be able to do all the things you used to do - gone would be lazing in the meadow on a Saturday, and you could probably forget about your book club altogether. You had little freedom beforehand given that Felix was a Prince, but that little freedom would be stripped away completely once you two were married. You’d be expected to appear by Felix’s side as an almost monarch, with a solemn but friendly expression on your face. You had to be careful, you had to be perfect.

Needless to say, you felt like a fucking fraud. There you were, completely and utterly in love with your best friend, and having to pretend that you were only pretending to be. You hoped this wasn’t obvious by your flustered facial expression while you sidled up close to Felix during your engagement party, dressed in all of your finery and feeling like a dickhead, to be honest. Felix had made sure that he had a tight yet comforting arm around your waist the whole time, a hand resting above your hip conservatively.

As if he hadn’t been making out with you a mere few hours before. That was something you hadn’t really addressed yet. It hadn’t been awkward, it had been far from it - you hoped that anything could make the atmosphere awkward between you and your prince - but you still felt guilty. You’d been going along with it, agreeing to it just being practicing. In reality, you felt like you were flying a bit too close to the sun, like that fucking Icarus guy in the Greek mythology tale Felix had forced you to read when you were still spotty teenagers.

“My lady?” You focused back on the man standing in front of you, Felix’s fingers digging into your side softly to bring you back into reality. He was some sort of noble, you weren’t sure of his name - he stood there with graying hair, a salt and pepper beard trimmed neatly and beady dark eyes staring at you. He didn’t even seem like a noble, really, more like a reporter designed purely to get information from both you and Felix.

“I’m sorry. What did you ask? I just got lost in my own thoughts. The excitement, y’know,” You mumbled in response, making Felix smile at the man in way of an apology. You tried not to play with the hem of your sleeves, another dress your mother had forced you in. You always thought you were of reasonable education, even having etiquette training, but you still felt out of place as the prince’s intended wife. The prince’s betrothed, even. You wished for a moment where you and Felix could be alone and more like yourselves again.

“That’s alright, my lady. I was asking about your love. I’m just curious, when was it that you realized you were in love with each other?” The man cocked his head to the side. You were flustered, leaning further into Felix’s side. He was beautiful tonight, he always was really - and he was ever so eager to save you when you were in an awkward position.

He did so at that moment. “I think we’ve always been in love. Just took a bit of thinking to notice it, right, sugarplum?” You blushed at the cringey nickname, elbowing Felix. The man chuckled at the display of banter and bid you both farewell, entering the crowd of bustling nobles. Felix’s statement weighed on your mind. You wished to believe that he meant it, that he loved you too.

You turned to Felix, humming as you placed your hands on his shoulders. His shoulders were broad now, unlike the way they had been when you were younger and he was smaller, narrower. You brushed off nonexistent dust on his dark navy suit jacket, playing with the soft blonde tendrils of hair at his nape. He’d been placed in sophisticated wear not dissimilar to yours, a dark velvet matching suit with a white shirt underneath. “Thanks for the help, Lix. I’m really nervous, to be honest.”

“You should always be honest with me,” Felix gave you a toothy smile, his eyes forming crescent moons. “You’re doing amazing, you know that? I know it’s awkward for you, so I had an idea. How’s about… do you want to sneak into my room tonight? I have to speak to Chan about some stuff once we’re done here, but I was thinking we could make a blanket fort and just talk. Just us, like old times?”

You smiled at the memory. You and Felix, prior to it being frowned upon to be in each other’s chambers, building blanket and pillow forts and reading books draped over one another. Your mothers would both smile upon finding you two drooling in the morning, books still open and more often than not fallen on your face and giving you a sore nose the next day. You were still as enchanted by him as you were years before, staring at the constellation of fawn freckles on his face.

“Of course, Lixie. I’ll be there.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You had a plan.

A plan to confess, actually. You’d never made such a brave decision in your life, not even those times you kissed Changbin when you were younger. You’d been studying, investigating, brainstorming - much like those detectives in the television shows Felix made you watch who stand with a board adorned with pictures and red string, going insane. You’d had an idea following the ending of the engagement party, and decided that you were going to recommend a book to Felix. It was an action that wasn’t out of the ordinary, and you had just the right idea. It would be a confession without being so explicit and embarrassing.

Following the party, you made quick work of your plan before your blanket fort date with Felix. Were you allowed to call it a date, now that you were going to be getting married? You decided you could. It was your turn to discuss a book for your book club, and you decided you were going to recommend Emma by Jane Austen. It was one you’d never discussed, and once you flicked through the few copies of the novel in the palace library, you were sure Felix hadn’t read it. His signature dog-earing of the old pages was nowhere to be seen in all of the pages you flicked through, so you tucked a random copy under your arm and returned to your room.

You hadn’t even read the book yourself, but you knew the gist from studying it briefly. It was a tale of multiple relationships between different characters, with a particular focus on a slow burn love that sprouts between protagonist Emma and her close friend Mr. Knightley. You hoped Felix would read between the lines and take notice of what you were trying to say when you handed him the book that night. You liked the concept of Mr. Knightley’s character - considerate, fond of Emma and had extremely high morality. He reminded you of Felix. Emma was nothing like you, however, apart from the fact that she made regular mistakes. That was exactly like you, you mused as you pulled your pajamas on to head to Felix’s chambers. This whole thing could be categorized as a mistake, but it was the boldest thing you’ve ever done and you knew Felix would be proud of you if he knew you were planning on doing it.

Or, he’d be absolutely scandalized. It was concerning him, after all.

You raised your hand up to knock on your Prince’s bedroom door, only to have the door swing open right in your face. The friendly, casual smile you’d plastered on dropped as soon as you laid eyes on him. He was dressed in a tight black tank top, joggers slung low on his hips and hair still slightly damp from a shower. You felt subordinate in a baggy hoodie - that actually previously belonged to Felix - and pajama shorts, a flimsy linen tote bag slung over your shoulder with a toothbrush and the copy of Emma laying inside. Your eyes were widened, staring at his almost bare shoulders, freckles littered all over the exposed skin. You hadn’t even put shoes on, for Christ’s sake, only a pair of fuzzy slippers with a baby chick on your feet.

“Hey, sugarplum,” Felix smiled brightly, before his dark eyes flicked to your tote bag. His smile fell, focusing on the rectangular shape concealed by the linen. “Please tell me that’s not a copy of Princess Diaries. I can’t do it again, I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, pushing past him and throwing your tote bag on the bed. “It’s a fucking book, Pixie. For our club, remember?”

Felix let out one of his award winning giggles, throwing himself down onto his plush bed. His room was obviously more lavish than yours, and you took a second to take it all in, given that it had been so long since you’d entered the room. The sheets were soft - the type of comfort that was obvious just from gazing at them, and the four poster bed was adorned with a sheer beige canopy that hung over the bed frame. You tried to avoid looking at Felix as you spun around and stared, taking in the moonlight flickering in through the curtains. The room was lit only by two bedside lamps, giving it a cozy ambience and making your Prince look even more ethereal - if that was possible. His hair fanned out around him as he waited in silence.

When you finally looked at him again, the signature Felix smile was plastered on his face. Dumb Felix comment incoming, you registered. “I have two issues with this current situation, sugarplum.”

You groaned, throwing yourself onto the bed. You made quick work and shuffled your slippers off, letting them drop to the hardwood floor unceremoniously and hiding your face in the pillow. You let one eye poke over the pillowcase as you looked at him, speaking, “and what would that be, your majesty?”

Felix elbowed you playfully at the quip before rolling over onto his side, his light blonde fringe taking up a lot of the beautiful face that you wanted nothing more than to stare at. “Firstly, it’s not book club day, which means all talk of books is strictly prohibited and also frowned upon. It is the agreed upon rules.”

“By whom? Who agreed to that?” You were teasing him, grinning into the pillowcase.

“Me!” Felix yelled. “And you. You established the rule! Secondly, you should be staring at me, your smoking hot fiance, not the room! You’ll have plenty of time to lay in this bed when we’re married, plenty of time to stare at the walls while we-”

“F- Felix!” You screamed, trying to push him off the bed with your feet, using all your body weight. He simply smiled at you cockily, pushing your feet off of him and widening his eyes to taunt you. “I- Don’t talk about us doing that! It’s… uncouth.”

“Uncouth? Were you thinking of us having sex?! I was going to say watching films together, but seeing as you’re so focused on what almost happened earlier…” You were lost for words as Felix stared at you, raising an eyebrow. You tried to stutter out a few things before just giving up, groaning in response to Felix’s giggle at your struggle.

You jumped up from the bed, grabbing the pillow with one hand and hitting him with it. Felix squealed, kicking his legs out playfully. You avoided looking at the sliver of skin that was revealed through the action, courtesy of his loose-fitting joggers. You sighed. “Blanket fort, Pixie. It’s game time.”

After half an hour of you and Felix bickering over the construction of your blanket fort - he insisted on using the bed frame and the canopy to make it cozier, but you tried to explain you had nothing to use to attach his spare blankets to the frame. He quickly realized that you were, in fact, correct once the blankets fell off of the wooden posts and onto your head, blinding you with fluffy cotton - you were finally settled. You both laid wrapped up snug as bugs in the blankets, only your heads poking out as you stared at each other comfortably.

“Let’s sleep like this,” Felix chirped. “Burritos.”

You giggled, nuzzling further into the blanket wrapped around you. “We should’ve put a film on before we got all cozy like this.”

“No need, we can talk about the book you brought here. What is it you wanted me to read?”

You blanched, staring down at the blanket. Felix’s head barely poked out of the fabric. He gazed at you as you struggled to speak yet again. “It’s- no book club talk. It’s not book club day.”

Felix rolled over and hit you in his blanket burrito, headbutting your chest softly. Now that he’d rolled over on the mattress, he was closer to you, almost nose to nose. You bit your lip, not noticing his eyes flickering down to your bottom lip.

“It’s called Emma,” you began. “One of, um… Jane Austen’s books. It’s- It’s. It’s good. I just thought… you’d enjoy it, y’know? Then we can like, discuss theories, or something. Discuss the book. The characters. The plot. There’s, like- yeah.”

This had to go in the top three, if not the top of worst confessions ever. Felix was simply staring at you, nodding, letting you speak. He’d always been understanding. Okay, you thought. You can say it.

“There’s two characters that remind me of us. Emma, she’s um- the main one. She’s the main character, the protagonist, or whatever. Then there’s Mr. Knightley, he’s like… you. Like you. He reminds me of you, and then Emma would be me, and then-”

You were cut off with a chaste peck to your lips, your eyes remaining open and widening with shock. Felix pulled away with a smile. You didn’t even have enough time to process it before he was speaking again. He was acting like the kiss was normal.

“I’ll read it, sugarplum. Sounds really good! I mean, if that guy is like me, he must be really fucking hot, right?” He was smiling ear to ear, trying to encourage you by joking around. He must’ve noticed that you’d never been so shy to talk about a novel you’d found before. You were normally the one who spoke more between the two of you, gushing about all of the language analysis and plot devices you’d discovered. You even went so far to link it to historical context around the novel most of the time. This was different though, you’d used yours and his love language of books to confess and he’d have no clue until he actually read it.

You briefly registered that you’d maybe made a mistake by doing this. First of all, you knew this could ruin your friendship. That was something you had actually considered, and you’d still decided to do it, because you were impulsive and nervous. That was by the by. But, now that you’d decided to give him this book, it meant that you had to wait until he’d actually read it and realized what you were trying to say - if he even realized, actually. Princes live very busy lives. Perhaps he wouldn’t even read it until after your wedding, in which case it was just plain fucking awkward.

Wedding. It still hadn’t really sunk in for you yet, the fact that you would be a princess by marriage.

You shut your eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. “Anyway,” you trailed off, desperately wanting to change the subject. Felix hummed in response, going with the change of pace. “What did Chan- erm, Chris, want to talk to you about?”

It was Felix’s turn to get flustered, shifting awkwardly in his cocoon and repositioning so his head was on your chest, pushing you flat on your back. You pulled your arm out of your own blanket to rest on his head, stroking through the strands. “Okay, so you know my mother is abdicating before she gets too old?”

“Yeah, it’s just a matter of time, really. Palace gossip has been running wild since Chan got married.” You felt awkward addressing Chan by his Korean name - it always felt too personal, but Felix didn’t react, simply nodding against your chest.

“Well, the Queen isn’t the only one who’s abdicating,” Felix began. His head was still on your chest, as if he refused to look you in the eyes. Was he insinuating…? “Um, yeah. So, Chan is abdicating so that his wife can rule her own kingdom, something against two heirs being married and both being monarchs. That means that I’m gonna be the King, so then you’ll be the, um…. Queen Consort. I didn’t want to- well, no, I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to be scared off.”

“I’m not scared.” You really fucking were.

“You should always be honest with me,” your Prince chirped again, a familiar phrase. He shifted onto his forearms, chest looming above yours and his face mere inches from your own. You stayed cocooned in your blanket, your one arm hanging out and still positioned uselessly on his head. “Are you scared, sugarplum? It’s a lot of power. I understand if you’re scared.”

You sighed. “I guess I am, maybe a little bit. But I’ll be okay with you by my side, Pixie. I suppose I’ll be fine being your Queen,” You tried to joke, grinning, but the look in Felix’s eyes was anything but amused. He stared at you with his facial expression showing nothing but timidness. Your smile fell and you blinked owlishly at him, jaw dropped. “I- Sorry, was that not funny?”

“That’s… shit, sugarplum, that got me fucking turned on?” Felix admitted, his eyes darting down to his crotch concealed by the joggers and the blanket. You gasped, your eyes following his own as if you’d be able to see his naked cock through the layers of clothes. “I think it was the Queen thing.”

“The Queen is your mother, Felix.”

“Don’t- Don’t ruin the mood,” Felix groaned, throwing himself down so he was lying on top of you, chest to chest. “I meant like, you being the Queen. ‘M gettin’ all hot because of that. Sorry, sugarplum.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Felix’s cheeks were blazing while he pushed the blanket down to his waist with his right hand, fanning himself with the left. “Just you like, I dunno - being mine? You being the Queen? Yeah. That does it for me. Shit, it’s so warm in here. Are you warm?” He was still wrestling with the blanket, starting to grab yours in frustration. Your sunshine Prince was looking shy, and he rarely got shy. He rambled when he was shy. You wanted to save him from his awkwardness.

“Um,” You stated, rather intelligently. Good start. “I guess. Yeah. I’m warm. Do you want to like, maybe… practice? The wedding is soon, Pixie.” It wasn’t for another few weeks, at least. They were bringing the marriage forward, previously for an unknown reason to you. You knew after Felix’s explanation that it was because the Queen was planning on giving up the throne to Chan, who would then abdicate, leaving Felix to be the heir. She clearly wanted you both to be married before Felix took the throne, and you assumed the whole situation would take a lot of paperwork and celebratory parties.

You quickly registered that you wouldn’t even be able to sneak off and get drunk with Changbin at the parties because you were now officially a public figure. Shame. It was probably the only thing that helped with your nerves.

Still, you were now feeling the tell-tale fluttering of butterflies in your stomach and a growing tingling sensation between your legs at the idea of your best friend being horny while in the same bed as you. While on top of you, actually. You wanted to punch yourself in the face.

Felix went still on your chest. “I mean, that is actually such a great idea. Maybe my stupid brother won’t walk in this time,” He didn’t even look at you. “Actually, we should probably stop talking about my family members right now.”

“Yeah, you should shut up, Lix,” you chided him, trying to lighten the mood. You tried to seem false-intimidating, but you couldn’t even do the false part given that you were still half wrapped in a blanket. With a soft ‘hey!’ and a quick scolding tap to your ankle, Felix was shifting again, moving so he was looking directly at you. Your Prince, you thought, staring into his dark doe eyes and following the slope of his button nose down to his full lips.

You wondered if it was strange, what you two were doing. Chan hadn’t really acted like it was - he had teased you more than anything, but isn’t that what big brothers do? You wondered if anyone else had ever been in this situation, in love with their best friend and completely aware of the fact that they were taking advantage of the situation by being able to kiss said best friend.

You decided you didn’t care, especially when Felix was shooting forward to press those full lips against yours and immediately keening softly into the open mouthed kiss. This was something you knew how to do, considering you were making out earlier that same day. Was that weird? It had only been a few hours… Were you insatiable? Yeah, probably.

Felix did well to distract you from your racing thoughts, his dainty hands going up to your jaw and gripping softly. You always thought his hands were well matched for someone of his status - small and delicate, but when clad with rings they looked to be nothing but powerful. You let out a soft sigh when his tongue started to dance against yours, hands going up to rest on his shoulders. You loved the feeling of his lips against yours and decided you’d never get sick of it as you returned the kiss with just as much energy. You let your hands slide up to his hair, pulling softly at his mullet.

Felix liked that, apparently, since he groaned softly in his deep timbre into the kiss before pulling away. His chest was heaving and flushed crimson with a blush that showed over that fucking black tank top.

He looked shy again. “I want to touch you, like, in that way,” He blurted out, your eyes focused on the expanse of skin showing on his chest. You glanced up at him, seeing him biting his lip. “Is that strange? I mean, we’ll have to do it when we get married anyway, right?”

You nodded, shrugging your shoulders and trying to act nonchalant. “I guess we would’ve ended up doing it earlier anyway,” Felix smiled, more confident at your agreement. “I just don’t really know what I’m doing, Pixie.”

Felix cooed, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks and squishing them together. “That’s okay, sugarplum. Neither do I, to be honest, but I’ve been researching.” He hadn’t done anything like that either? Had he… he hadn’t waited for you, right?

You immediately wanted to change the subject, not wanting to be disappointed. “Researching?”

“I asked Chan,” Felix admitted, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. You scoffed, kicking his leg softly with your foot. “Hey! He ‘bones’ a lot, you said it yourself-“

“No talk about family members, remember?” You chided, smiling. You felt so relaxed with him - as you always had up until your recent love crisis - and you decided that if you were going to do anything sexual with anyone, it had to be Felix. Your Prince. You wriggled out of your blanket burrito, kicking your legs out triumphantly once you were free of your confines.

Felix did the same, pushing the rest of his blanket off and letting the fabric fall around his feet. He looked at you, smiling fondly and shifting so he was comfortably on top of you, your legs slung over his hips. He licked his lips. “Mm, come here.”

With a swift move forward, your Prince was kissing you again, this time with a renewed intensity. His lips were almost harsh against yours, but the fullness made up for his aggressive nature. His hands went up to your hips, pushing up the fabric of your shirt and his thumbs rubbing circles. Felix breathed heavily into the sloppy kiss you were sharing, and you shifted impatiently as you wished for more.

He was getting antsy too, something you noted when his mouth separated from yours and instantly pressed against your neck, licking and biting at the skin but making sure not to leave any marks. You couldn’t have people believing you’d had sex before marriage, of course, but you still whined the same as if he was giving you a million marks and claiming you as his. You thought about earlier, when you’d been caught by Chan. What would have happened if you kept going?

“We- Lix-” You were cut off with your own whine when Felix’s teeth nipped at a particularly sensitive spot on the crook of your neck. “We can’t have- Lix, fuck, listen to me! We can’t have sex.”

Felix’s head poked up at that, his eyebrows raised in shock and amusement. “We’re not going to have sex. Jesus, you just want to jump straight into it, don’t you-”

“No! I meant that we can’t have sex until the wedding. You seemed to be getting pretty excited, so I thought I’d just remind you,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to shift away from him. He didn’t permit this, his hands pulling you back to your old position by your hips. Your mind went blank at the show of dominance.

“We’re not going to have sex, duh. I want to touch you. I said that, didn’t I?” Felix was giggling again, flicking your forehead as a way of teasing. You frowned, and Felix immediately pulled his hands away from your hips, resting them in your hair instead. “Is that okay? Do you want me to touch you, sugarplum?”

He was asking for consent. You didn’t think Felix had ever asked you if it was okay if he did anything. Then again, this situation was different, and you smiled softly at the reassuring question. Of course you wanted him to touch you. You thought someone would have to be blind to not want Lee Felix to touch them. You personally wanted his hands touching intricately all over you at every second of every day. “I- Yeah. I want you to touch me.”

At your consent, Felix gave you a quick smooch to your nose and started to kiss down your body. He didn’t remove your shirt, only pushing it up at the hem so that it rested just underneath your tits. You’d foregone a bra for comfort, but you were quickly regretting it when you saw the hard peaks of your nipples poking through your shirt. This didn’t go unnoticed by Felix, and he grinned against your tummy when his eyes landed on your nipples, reaching up to brush his thumbs over the sensitive buds teasingly. You moaned softly in response, a high-pitched, embarrassing noise - but Felix seemed to like it, if the kick of his hips against the mattress was any indication.

“Never fucked anyone, you know that, sugarplum? Wanted it to be you,” he breathed out against your tummy, button nose nudging at the top of your underwear and bottoms. You squirmed, sighing out loud. “Wanted it to be you, always. But you’re so fucking…”

You almost forgot to reply when his teeth grazed against the fabric, heavy breathing now being spilled over your core. The sensation was hidden by the two layers of clothing, but it sent shockwaves up your spine just the same. He looked to be going insane, hair mussed with sweat and darkening the strands to a milky coffee shade while his eyes were blown wide with lust. His mouth was slightly open, exasperated, pouty rose lips permitting the erotic breaths of air to escape from his lungs. They rang off the walls like church bells, incredibly pleasant to your ears, juxtaposing the precariousness of your situation. “S-So what? Felix, just… please…”

“So fucking oblivious,” Felix whispered. His thumbs found themselves yanking both layers down at once to expose your dripping hole, clit swollen and throbbing, aching for the touch of your best friend. You felt yourself blush while he took you in, a deep groan rasping through the air at the sight of you wet and needy for him. Only for him, you thought, legs spreading wider to let him get a better look despite your embarrassment. He was looking at you in your entirety, eyes tracing a path over your labia and down to your twitching hole. He was murmuring incoherently, his jaw dropped in shock. “You’re so wet, sugarplum. Jesus, you’re so fucking wet, what the fuck?”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your face to hide. “Lix, shut up. It’s not like I can help it. You were kissing me, and- and stuff.”

“And you think your bestie is so totally hot, yeah, I get it,” You huffed again at the comment. He was getting closer now, breaths warming up the wet slick that had accumulated around your bottom set of lips. Your hands dropped to your sides, gripping the sheets awkwardly as if you didn’t know where exactly to place them. “I’m gonna taste you. That's okay, yeah?”

You nodded, shifting around impatiently once again. He let those small hands go up to hold your hips down, the show of power once again going straight to the pit of your tummy. The feeling was meant to be reserved just for your dreams, but here Felix was, reenacting everything that you’d tried to push to the back of your mind.

Just as you hit that realization, Felix was shooting forward once again, delivering a fat lick up the middle of your core. He groaned as he tasted you. His precision was anything but perfect, but he was eager, licking through your folds and cleaning you of all of the sweet dew that had accumulated there. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit, those plump lips wrapping around your button and giving it a quick suck before he pulled away.

Felix swiped his middle finger through your folds, groaning in that deep voice as you got wet despite him just cleaning you up with his tongue. “You taste so sweet, like fucking sugar. I knew there was a reason why I was calling you sugarplum.”

You whined when his finger breached your hole, immediately curving upwards to find that spongy spot inside of you. Chan had told him how to do some good things, you’d muse afterwards - but your brain was too fuzzy to think about anyone else when your best friend reattached his lips to your clit and sucked hard. You wondered if his finger would reach so deep inside of you, given his small hands, but he had clearly hit the exact right angle and pressed on it just as he sucked. Your hands went down to his hair gripping harshly. You didn’t realize just how hard you were yanking the strands. “Mm, fuck- more, more, please-“

Felix hummed in response, his tongue swirling around your clit while he continued to suck. You writhed and whimpered out loud, not caring of who heard you. That was something you’d also consider later, when your brain wasn’t so foggy with lust.

Looking down at Felix between your legs, you wanted to paint that image onto your eyelids so that you saw it every time you blinked. His hips were still kicking up a fuss against the mattress, small, aborted thrusts as if he was a bit too embarrassed to do it fully. His hair was messy from you grabbing onto it, something that made you retract your hands immediately. His eyes were practically rolling back into his head as he tried to keep his eyes on you to see your reactions, and his free hand was still pinning your hips down to keep you from moving too sharply away from his ministrations. He looked beautiful, as he normally did, but even more so now - your Prince looked thoroughly debauched. You hadn’t even touched him. You couldn’t wait to touch him.

You quickly noticed that just the image of him was making you hurtle closer to the edge. You’d felt this before, of course, many times when you shoved your hand down your trousers in your way of settling down to go to sleep. This was stronger, though. Every cell in your body felt like it was igniting with white hot lust, your toes were curling as you tried not to squirm and your jaw was dropped, unabashed moans and whines tumbling out. Your hands subconsciously went up to your tits, yanking the hem of your comfy t-shirt up and pinching the buds of your nipples harshly.

“Lixie, please, just a bit more, I’ll-“

Felix let go of the button between your legs with a wet smack, keeping his finger moving rhythmically as he came to lie next to you. His free hand moved from your hip into your hair, pulling you to face him. His eyes looked to be trying to figure out where they wanted to look - darting around your pussy, your fingers tweaking your nipples or the euphoric expression on your face. “Can you cum just from my finger? I want to see you when you cum. I want to see you when it’s all me, just me doing this to you.”

You whined, nodding as your hips started to pick up, thrusting into the rhythm of his hand. You briefly thought of how embarrassing this was - cumming from just your friend’s finger inside of you, only one finger at that, but you decided that was just the effect Felix had on you. “Yeah- yeah, I can cum from this, fuck- aah! Lixie, Lixie, please!”

“What are you begging for, sugarplum? I’m here,” He kissed your face, peppering small pecks all around the expanse of your flushed skin. He had positioned his hand to grind his palm into your clit. “I’m here. I’m all… I’m all yours.”

He seemed hesitant to say that, but it worked its intended effect anyway. You gasped and hurtled into an almost silent orgasm, but as if expecting a loud, nosy climax, Felix’s lips instantly attached to yours. Your toes curled as the bubble finally popped, so to speak. An euphoric sensation took over your body, beginning from the pit of your stomach and feeling as though it traveled all the way to the tips of your hair. You whimpered softly into the kiss, your hands gripping onto Felix’s wrist as he steadily slowed down his pace.

Your chest heaved with exertion. You were acting as if it was you who had done all the work, cheeks flushed and legs feeling stiff. You groaned as you stretched, your arms above your head until you realized Felix was pointedly staring at your exposed tits. Your nipples were still hard, perking upwards and Felix was almost salivating. A quick look down at his crotch revealed he was still sporting an extremely rock solid erection that looked fit to burst out of its confines.

“Was it… good?” He was licking his lips while he asked you. He wasn’t even looking at you; still staring at your tits with hunger in his eyes. You blushed, nodding.

You motioned at his erection. “Do you want me to…?”

Felix blinked owlishly. He had that deer in the headlights facial expression again. “Yeah. I mean, if you want to? ‘M really fucking hard, sugarplum, and if I’m honest, my dick will hate me forever if I force it to enjoy my own hand again, y’know-“

You shut him up with a kiss, giggling into his lips. A darting of his tongue into your mouth made you taste yourself on his lips, and you moaned, sucking on his tongue filthily. You had a burst of confidence then, as if it had only just hit you what you were doing. Your hand went down to his length and gripped it firmly through his trousers.

“Jesus, you are hard,” you stated, shocked. Felix choked back an embarrassed giggle, simply blushing and nodding with the teasing of a smile on his lips. “I’ll… yeah. Can I take these off, Pixie?”

Felix nodded eagerly, making you smile fondly at him. Rather than allowing you to take them off yourself, his hands were pushing at his joggers and wrestling them off in one go with his boxers, quite like he’d done with your clothes. He flipped you both over, positioning so you were on top of him with him laying on his back. You tried not to notice how you still weren’t wearing anything on your bottom half and your t-shirt was barely covering your pussy.

You instead focused on the skin newly revealed to you. He’d shucked his tank top up so his abs were exposed to you - those fucking abs. You thought you’d get over seeing him shirtless once you weren’t sixteen and hormonal anymore, but the tell-tale clenching of your pussy when you looked at his body told you otherwise. Your eyes went down to his length, chestnut hair trimmed neatly above the shaft and his cock resting against his tummy, hard and leaking. You felt bad for what you’d put him through minutes before. No wonder he was grinding against the mattress.

Taking initiative, you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock, pumping twice in quick succession.

“Fuck-“ Felix was whining immediately, hips canting off the bed. He yanked you down next to him by your free hand, your legs slung over his thighs and your head right next to his. He wasted no time, grabbing your head and bringing you in for another kiss.

You tried to focus on kissing your Prince back while you stroked his cock, but you knew you were kissing him very badly. He didn’t seem to mind, just breathing heavily and whining into your mouth. His voice had shifted several pitches higher. It was so fucking hot to you.

“Mm- sugarplum, tighter as you get to the tip- and- and… hnng.. use the, um, the precum to make it wet. ‘Kay?” You smiled, nodding at his instructions. You knew you weren’t brilliant at it, knew you hadn’t done research like he had, so you appreciated the tips he gave you. You swiped your thumb over the head of his cock, through the slit, and dragged the wetness down to his shaft. The pumping sounded wetter now, a slick noise that was simultaneously pleasing and distracting to your ears.

“God, can you spit on it? Sorry, sugarplum, just feels really good when it’s wet,” Felix whispered. He looked embarrassed and horny at the same time. It looked fucking amazing on him, you thought, as you spat in your hand and returned it to his length. He immediately shot his hips up, toes curling into the sheets and his jaw dropping. “Oh God, yeah. Like that, Jesus, you’re good at that.”

“I’ve had a good teacher,” You rested your head on his shoulder, staring down at your own hand pumping his length quickly. He was leaking precum steadily, adding to the mix of the already leaked substance and your spit on his cock. You wanted to taste it.

Before even processing what you were doing, you were shifting again, settling between his legs.

“What are you-“

You sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth. The precum tasted like nothing, really, but it had a slightly salty aftertaste that wasn’t unpleasant. Felix’s jaw dropped in a shocked moan, his hand going to your hair and pulling on the strands softly.

“Shit, I won’t last long,” he admitted. You simply hummed and sucked harder, bobbing your head on his tip. You could’ve sworn you were meant to use your hand too. You had seen porn, after all. You reached up, squeezing the rest of his shaft and pumping it along with your hand. “Sugarplum, oh-!”

Felix moaned and bucked his hips up, stammering and trying to stutter out sentences. You weren’t sure what he was trying to say, so you assumed it was blabbering in the throes of passion and continued.

His fingers linked into your hair then, pulling your head off of his shaft. You blinked at him, hand resting still on his cock.

“Sugarplum, I was going to cum in your mouth.”

You frowned. “That’s the point, and you say I’m the fucking dummy-“

Felix sat up, pushing you down into the mattress once more and sitting between your legs. You tried to ignore how his cock was so close to your pussy, rather unsuccessfully as your core gave a betraying clench and leaked another rivulet of wetness. “I want to- sugarplum, I want to cum somewhere but it’s literally so weird.”

You tilted your head to the side in confusion. You reached down and gave his cock another few pumps. “Tell me, Lixie.”

“God- I want to cum on your pussy. Is that weird?”

You pulled away and sucked your thumb into your mouth, cleaning it of the fresh precum. Felix groaned at the sight and started to pump his own cock, pushing your shirt up again to expose your tits. His eyes immediately settled on them as he waited for your response. You didn’t even need to consider it. “Do it. Nothing’s ever weird between us, right?”

Felix nodded quickly, moving closer to you and positioning his cockhead above your clit. It rubbed against your button teasingly, making you squirm and writhe underneath him.

“Shit, be careful, sugarplum. I could slip inside,” He leaned fully over you, kissing your neck. He was breathing heavily into your ear now, making you play with the swollen buds on your tits again. “Could… could slip inside, and fill you up, and-“

“Y-You could. Can. Please.” you whined, wiggling again.

“No, no, can’t. Fucking can’t, not yet. Fucking want to- fuck- fuck-! I’m g’na…” He was panting, barely able to get words out that weren’t littered with profanity. You shuddered.

“Cum, Lixie, c’mon. I’m yours, all yours.”

You hadn’t even noticed what you’d been babbling in response, but his body seized up and you felt hot stripes of white cum shoot from his cockhead onto your clit. He was loud through the orgasm, swearing and whining in a high pitched tone. You were making noise too, little noises as if you were shocked. The warmth of his cum on you was erotic, yet weirdly comforting. Strange. Maybe it’s because it was his, like he was marking you as his territory.

“Shit,” Felix panted, flopping down next to you with a loud sigh. “Shit.”

“Shit.” You agreed.

“That was fucking good though, right?” He turned to you. You looked at him and noticed he looked like he needed some validation, eyes soft and vulnerable.

“Um, duh. It was amazing, Lixie. Thank you,” You smiled. “We should get cleaned up now though.”

Felix nodded, as if realizing the urgency of the situation. He darted around the room, using a small face towel to quickly wipe his softening cock and then he threw it at you for you to wipe yourself. It landed on your head unceremoniously, blinding your vision as the blanket from the blanket fort had done. You groaned. Felix giggled. Of course he did.

“Um, your underwear is still… wet. I’ll grab you a pair of my boxers, okay, sugarplum?” You nodded, slightly embarrassed. You made quick work of wiggling the boxers he threw at you up your legs, yanking your t-shirt down to cover yourself. It didn’t bother you being so uncovered in front of him, just like it didn’t bother you wearing a pair of his boxers. You’d done all of this a million times before - just not after doing… what you just did. You couldn’t even fathom saying it, not even in your head.

Felix switched one of the bedside lamps off on his way back into bed, a hairband pushing his hair back and a fresh pair of underwear on. He wiggled underneath the quilt, putting himself back into a cute burrito and gazing at you expectantly. You sighed, kicking the hand towel onto the hardwood floor and wiggling into the blanket with him. It was like you could read each other's minds in situations like this.

“Yay, sleepover,” He chirped quite happily. You let out a small laugh. It didn’t feel awkward. The relative silence was comfortable. You couldn’t wait to marry him, your best friend, your Prince. “I guess Chan told me some good things then, huh?”

“Oh my God, shut up,” You giggled. You let your face fall, giving him a serious look. “It was alright, I suppose.”

Felix gasped theatrically. “Take that back! I’m a master at it already, I know it.”

“You’re not a master if you had to ask your fucking brother-“

You huffed as Felix wrestled you to the bed, pinning your arms down and tickling your skin. You squealed when he hit your sides, thrashing around and trying to kick him off of you.

You hoped that you were right, that it could never be awkward, not even after he read the book and knew you were madly in love with him.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You stood on the day of your wedding two weeks later wearing a dress that had been worn by the Queen to her own wedding, many years earlier. You were grateful that the Queen had trusted you with her own dress, showing how much she approved of you, you supposed. It had been altered by one of the palace tailors so that it wasn’t too old fashioned, but still, the feeling of the satin against your skin reminded you of the many memories the fabric held.

They’d fast tracked your wedding to your best friend and it was a lot sooner than you’d hoped. You hadn’t seen Felix in a full week, due to him being preoccupied with wedding plans himself, and the only hint you’d had that he’d still been thinking of you was the bouquet of baby’s breath flowers that were dropped off to your chambers earlier on that day. You’d decided that would be your wedding bouquet. You didn’t even know if he’d read the book you recommended, if he’d even realized what you were trying to say.

The anticipation was killing you. Your dress was an off-shoulder beauty, a tight form fitting design that clung to your figure and flared off into an a-line hemline. It was conservative nonetheless, a bright shade of ivory that was almost blinding along with your mother’s necklace that she’d insisted you wear. She was fussing with your hair while you stared into the mirror. You weren’t displeased at what you saw, but you still felt a bit fake, like you weren’t meant to be the one standing across from the nation’s favorite Prince in the next hour.

Your mother sighed in frustration at someone entering the room, because your head spun to face the intruder and forced her to promptly drop the ornate clasp she was holding. Chan stood there, holding a box of chocolates with a cheerful smile.

“I come with a gift for the bride,” He chirped, placing the box of chocolates on the small coffee table of your dressing room. It was a spare room in your designated section of the palace that had been repurposed just for the day. You wanted to slap Chan because he reminded you of Felix, and more importantly, the fact you hadn’t seen Felix. You shut your eyes and pursed your lips, reminding yourself that it really wasn’t Chan’s fault. When you opened your eyes, Chan was motioning to the bouquet of baby’s breath on the table. “You got Felix’s flowers then.”

“Yeah, and no sign of the actual Felix,” You sounded petty, and you knew it. Even your mother scoffed at your statement as she fled the room to do something else - probably flitting around in panic, trying to get the tablecloths at a perfect angle. Chan laughed at you nonetheless, sitting down on a chair and still grinning at you. You pulled the off-shoulder sleeve up self consciously. “Have you seen him much? Is he okay?”

“Eh, not really. When he’s not preparing for the wedding, he’s had his nose in that book you gave him.”

“Huh?!”

Chan’s smile dropped, looking at you with confusion. “Well, yeah. He always reads the books you gave him. Why’s that a shock?”

“B-Because… no. It’s not a shock, just- I don’t know.”

Chan hummed. “Today’s probably got your head feeling fuzzy, I don’t blame you for feeling weird.”

“Yeah.”

He came behind you and you stared at him in the mirror. He kept his distance, but was smiling at you cheekily. He shoved his hands in his pockets in a nonchalant manner. “I mean, I’d probably be nervous too if I was in an arranged marriage with my best friend. Especially if my best friend also didn’t know that I was madly in love with them.”

Your eyes widened. How did he…? Okay, no. It was probably super obvious to everyone apart from the actual love interest in your life, to be honest. Instead of berating him, you did actually stomp your feet in anger. “Okay, well. The book was sort of my way of confessing. There’s two characters who are friends that fall in love, and I told him they reminded him of us. It’s sappy, I know-”

“‘S not sappy at all,” Chan cut you off. “I think that’s really fucking sweet, to be honest. I’m not entirely sure he’ll understand what you’re trying to say, though. He’s oblivious like that.”

“And he said I was oblivious,” you muttered. Chan’s head tilted to the side, as if asking you to repeat yourself louder, but you simply shook your head. “I’m going through with it.”

“Well, yeah, I know you are? You’re standing there in a wedding dress?”

“It’s going to be awkward when he knows. I’m regretting everything.”

Chan shook his head. He stalked across the room, placing his hands on your shoulders comfortingly. “Nothing could ever be awkward between you two. Who knows? Maybe he even feels the same?”

You groaned in distress. “He doesn’t feel the same, Chan. Shut up.”

Chan shrugged. “I mean, how would I know, anyway?”

You blinked at yourself in the mirror as Chan left the room with no further comments. How would he know? Um, maybe because he’s his fucking brother?

Wait.

You sighed, ridding yourself of the thoughts in your head. You had to leave now, to walk down the aisle, given away by your mother rather than your father and given away to your best friend. You didn’t have time to consider what Chan was saying. He was being fucking cryptic and annoying.

It was all backwards. It shouldn’t have felt right, but it did, weirdly enough. You’d been freaking out about it all day. You had been told by your mother to wear heels with your dress, and although they were only simple white kitten heels, if anything, you still teetered precariously on them and had horrible thoughts about flying ass over tit on the aisle in front of everyone. Felix would laugh. Hell, Chan would probably cry laughing too, but you’d be actually crying of embarrassment.

Your mother returned shortly after Chan left, and she had clearly given up on your hair. It had decided today of all days to be classed as an unruly mane, and so she’d tried to clip it up with some clasps but your hair just hadn’t obeyed. She huffed, brushing through it and letting it hang limply over your shoulders. It was your wedding day and you felt like a pig with makeup on. You sighed, pulling the veil over your face while your mother linked arms with you.

You looked at you both in the mirror. Even with your face obscured by the sheer veil, you were both so similar. Similar in height, similar in stance.

“Are you ready, dear?”

You felt tears welling in your eyes. “No. I don’t think I am.”

Your mother sighed, her fingertips brushing down the hair that she could access. “I know. I promise you, dear, everything will be just fine. You and Felix will always be fine, no matter what.”

You knew she knew. You knew she was trying to comfort you, despite knowing. She’d always been like that. Even when you’d been getting up to no good with Felix and his friends as kids and you ended up crying and throwing a tantrum upon being caught - she still comforted you. She was your mother, your inspiration.

You nodded solemnly in response to her statement, and she smiled a comforting smile on her face that was so similar to yours, yet weathered and aged like the books you and Felix enjoyed flicking through. She must have so many secrets, she must have known and seen so many things - yet she was still by your side, because you’re her daughter. You were grateful she was ignoring her job duties to comfort you and make sure you were feeling decent enough for the wedding. It had always been the two of you, after all.

You were led out of the dressing room by your mother, her arm wrapped around yours and her dressed elegantly, similar to you. She looked better, more comfortable in her own skin and more important, demanding authority everywhere she walked. You hoped you’d become even a fraction of the woman she was one day.

She led you down to the hall where the Queen normally took court, repurposed for the reception. You assumed everything would be taking place there, but then she was leading you out to the palace gardens and you were astonished. It was like having your wedding in a forest, beautiful greenery everywhere and the sound of soft tinkling music coming from a piano. You were being taken down the aisle before you even registered what was happening.

The guests all stood up politely, turning to look at you. A few of them even looked in awe, and you really hoped there was a God who would prevent you from falling flat on your fucking face as you walked down. Your sweaty palms clenched onto the plastic paper of the baby’s breath bouquet, crinkling under your touch. You were just staring at the crowd, jaw dropped rather embarrassingly.

Your mother spoke to you in a hushed whisper. “Smile, dear.”

They can’t even see my fucking face through this veil, you thought, but you smiled dutifully anyway. You noticed people starting to murmur, and you could’ve sworn you heard that people were saying how elegant and regal you looked. You wanted to scoff. Fat chance. You still felt like a peasant being forced to marry a Prince in a medieval show, or something.

Your eyes finally landed on him. There he was, your Prince, standing at the end of the aisle underneath a wooden wedding arch covered in forest green vines and baby’s breath littered all over the structure. You almost forgot how to breathe, and almost did fall on your face. He looked amazing. Well, he always looked amazing, but even more so on that day. The greenery made him look like some form of faerie prince. They’d dressed him traditionally, a white shirt with frills on the sleeves being exposed just underneath a black suit jacket. The frills went all the way up to his neck, clasping tightly beneath a silver chain necklace. Most importantly, on top of perfectly tousled blonde waves, a crown full of ornate jewels sat. You really did forget how to breathe, then.

You smiled softly at Chan and Hyunjin, stood on Felix’s side as his best men. Hyunjin looked beautiful, as he always did, straight out of a magazine. He wasn’t a patch on your Prince, though. You chided yourself mentally for that. It’s not as if you’d kick Hyunjin out of bed, it’s just that you’d now had, erm… bedtime activities with Felix and knew that he was a sex-god. Sexprince. Whatever. On your side, where you were meant to arrive, Chan’s wife stood as your one and only bridesmaid. You didn’t have many real friends in the palace, only Felix really, and she’d been fucking ecstatic when you had asked her to be by your side at the wedding. She didn’t have many true friends either, it turned out.

Before you knew it, you were standing across from Felix, eyes gazing into eachothers.

He mouthed a sentence, a simple “you’re fucking beautiful”. You’d slap him later for swearing at your fucking wedding. Seriously, he needed to have some respect.

The wedding officiant - another random noble - began to talk at that moment, now that everyone had sat down and settled. Your mother was staring at you with a kind smile on your face. You avoided her eyes. She’d pissed you off, but you weren’t exactly sure what she’d done this time. Maybe it was her being so nice. Maybe it was because everyone kept mentioning the fact you’re in love with Felix. “Repeat after me, I, Lee Felix, take you…”

You honestly zoned out, staring at your Prince. He didn’t even seem to be listening either, but you’d gone over this part in the wedding rehearsal. You knew what you had to say to solidify the marriage, but in all honesty, your mind was on what you’d have to do afterwards to consummate the marriage. Having not seen him for a while, your hand had become acquainted with the inside of your knickers rather frequently, and you’d come apart way too many times to the thought of him to be considered normal. You wondered if he’d done it, too.

In your train of thoughts, you almost missed that it was your turn. “Ah, sorry,” you mumbled, making everyone in the audience chuckle. You even heard a faint ‘the Princess is cute’, making you feel flustered and want to throw your shoe at whoever said it. You got on with your speech. “... f-for richer, for poorer. Um. In sickness, and in health, to love and cherish always.” It felt like you’d been reading it off a script. In all honesty, you kind of had been - you’d been staring at the space behind Felix and squinting to remember what had been written on the piece of paper placed in front of you so many times.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Don’t use that fucking tongue, Lee Felix, there’s children present, you thought. He, as if reading your mind once again, leaned forward and pressed a chaste peck to your lips, lifting your veil before doing so. You smiled, satisfied, and he took your hand, leading you out of the ceremony. The reception would be straight after, a gathering of people of high status drinking expensive wine and doing that stupid fucking laugh they do. You couldn’t say much - you’d been educated and instructed to do the exact same.

Only one thing was on your mind though, amongst the cheers and applause of the public at their favorite Prince getting married. You couldn’t help thinking that this was the beginning of a union, so why did it feel so much like an ending?

Once everyone was seated, you sighed and began to pick at your food in front of you. It was some posh recipe made by the palace cooks - everyone sitting in the reception was eating the same thing, and seemed to be enjoying it a whole lot more than you were. The whole room was decorated similarly to outside, green vines and flowers hanging everywhere from potted plants. Felix sat next to you, thanking everyone who wished you both well.

“I want to apologize, sugarplum,” He began, eyes staring at the plate of food in front of him instead of you. “I haven’t had a chance to read the book you recommended. You know, with all the preparations and stuff.”

Wait. What? Someone’s fucking lying here. Was it Chan or Felix? To be fair, you hadn’t had much time to do anything else either. But Chan had told you that Felix had his nose in that book all the time, and Felix was intensely avoiding eye contact with you now. Unless…

Oh, fucking hell. He read the book, knew what you meant and is choosing to expertly say nothing about it - because he doesn’t feel the same. He wants to just act like nothing happened. You felt tears brimming in your eyes. It’s not that you didn’t expect this outcome, because perhaps a small part of you did, but it still fucking hurt your heart nonetheless. A large part of you had hoped for something cheesy, like a large declaration of love and you two running to each other in the meadow and maybe him spinning you around in his arms or something.

This was reality though, not one of your romance novels. You blinked to try and destroy the tears in your eyes, before giving him a smile. “That’s okay, Pixie. I’ve been busy too, I get it.”

Felix held your hand under the table, clenching it tightly. He was smiling ear to ear. “‘S fucking sick though, right? We’re married now.”

You tried to return his energy. He’d sounded absolutely gushing, full of happiness, practically over the moon. “Yeah. So fucking cool.” You sounded devastated.

Felix glanced at you quickly with concern, his eyebrows furrowed. Before he could manage to say anything, Chan and his wife were standing in front of the table, looming over you. It was intimidating. She looked beautiful, dressed in a tight floor length pastel blue dress. It matched Chan’s own blue suit, and pastel blue had been your intended color for your bridesmaids dresses, had you had more than one.

Chan clapped his hands together. “So, we are excited for tonight?!”

You blushed, turning to Felix. He looked just as shy as you for once. His eyes were widened and he was finding the white linen tablecloth very interesting all of a sudden. Chan’s wife slapped him on the arm, grumbling about having etiquette. “I’m so sorry about him.” You found it funny, their dynamics - you followed Felix around like a lost puppy, whereas Chan’s wife seemed to have him on a tight leash.

In reality, it was extremely fucking daunting. You found yourself still nervous, even when the festivities had ended and you were standing in your own chambers. It all felt too formal. You hoped that in another lifetime you and Felix would’ve been able to do this whole thing at a more casual pace. Maybe you even would’ve been able to lose your virginity to him before you got married.

You were greeted with a white slip of chemise laying on your bedsheets when you returned. You knew you’d be expected to wear something like that but it still shocked you, and you stared at it as if it was an illegal piece of evidence for a solid few minutes. It was delicate, the satin between your fingers, a perfect juxtaposition to what you’d be doing in less than an hour. You took your wedding dress off quickly, laying it out on the bed and putting it on the hanger. You wondered if your matching white lace underwear would be okay for Felix, before realizing that it was actually a miracle that it was even matching.

Once you’d slipped the chemise on, you stared at the mirror next to your armoire. You looked at yourself in surprise. It actually looked good, and you’d chosen to leave your bridal leg garters on. The dress met your legs mid-thigh, meaning the garter on your left leg was about one gust of wind away from being exposed. You thought you were meant to leave it on anyway, that you were meant to have your newlywed husband take it off for you in a sign of like, possession or something. The whole thing was so fucking medieval to you.

Slipping your coat over your shoulders, you decided to forego proper shoes and just slipped your white sandals on. Well, they were white, until you and Felix had commenced a full on wrestle in the meadow one day and now they were permanently stained beige from your efforts of planting your feet in the mud to punch him. Playfully, obviously. He still whined when you did it as if you’d battered him black and blue.

Stalking over to your Prince’s chambers, you realized something. Soon, probably in the next few days, you’d have to move all of your things here and then you’d be living with Felix in the palace. It would be both of your chambers, not his. The thought made you feel giddy with excitement but it also made your head dizzy with confusion. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore. You were in love with him, sure, obviously - but you didn’t know how long you could keep up the facade if he wasn’t about to address that fucking book you gave him in all of your bravery.

You stood there awkwardly. Were you meant to knock? Surely you were meant to knock. Or maybe you just open the door. You’d be moving in soon, anyway, so it would make sense if-

The door swung open in front of you. “Oh, hi! What a nice surprise. How long have you been-”

“Just got here, like, this second,” You grumbled, arms crossed across your chest. Felix laughed behind you as you pushed past him into the room, clearly knowing that you had been standing there for a solid minute just staring at his bedroom door. You turned around when Felix pushed the door shut. He was wearing just pajama shorts and a t-shirt. You wanted to scream. Maybe you weren’t even meant to wear the stupid fucking nightgown. He’d clearly dressed for comfort.

“Why are you wearing a coat? It’s summer.”

You blanched. You looked down at the coat. You’d have to take it off eventually. “Okay, don’t laugh.”

Felix nodded. He was already holding back a laugh, and you could tell by the stifled look on his face. “Not gonna laugh.”

“You so are,” you huffed, unzipping your coat and letting it fall to the floor. You scrunched your eyes shut tightly, waiting for the impending cackle to come from your best friend. You felt like an idiot. You’d walked in here, all dressed up to the nines like some fucking prize for him to unwrap, and you’d been met by him in his comfy pajamas. Not even the nice, princelike pajamas!

After a moment of silence, you opened your eyes. Felix was staring at you, jaw dropped and a visible tent in those stupid shorts. Any sign of a smile had disappeared from his face.

Your brain was working at 100mph, deciding to have a severe case of word vomit. “Okay. So, this was on my bed. I’m assuming Chan’s wife left it there or something. I don’t know. I didn’t… I wasn’t sure if I should wear it. I feel really stupid now, and you’re staring, Lix, so can you just say-”

You were cut off by his lips against yours. He was pushing you backwards onto his four poster bed with ease, moaning deeply into the kiss. You squealed with surprise, hands going up to his hair to try and keep yourself steady. Once he had you situated on the mattress, Felix was immediately in between your legs, bunching the fabric of your nightgown up in his fists and his tongue dancing around your mouth.

You hummed, spreading your legs wider to accommodate him. You found your lips sucking on his tongue in a filthy kiss, much like the one you’d done weeks prior before his head was between your legs. You desperately hoped he would do it again. His plump lips were harsh against yours, his hands traveling everywhere across your body as if he was trying to be able to draw your body by memory after this.

Felix pulled away, breathing heavily. It seemed he really enjoyed kissing, because after everytime you kissed he looked fucking debauched. His hair was scrunched up everywhere - courtesy of your hands - and his chest was heaving. “Trying to- fucking hell, sugarplum. Trying to fucking kill me, I swear,” You giggled. He liked it. He liked the dress. You felt like a thousand rocks had been lifted off of your back. Felix smiled back at you, letting out a small laugh and shutting his eyes as if he realized the severity of the situation. His eyes opened, looking down at you. They were a deep brown, blown wide with lust. “I- Jesus. Do you want me to fuck you? We don’t have to, y’know-”

You shifted, bringing him back down into another heated kiss with a hand on the back of his neck. He moaned, his hands going to grab your nightgown again. This time, his hands went further down, sliding up your thighs and then he positively keened into the kiss.

He pulled away again. “Tell me you’re fucking joking.”

“H-Huh? Joking about what?” You sat up on your forearms. Felix yanked you closer to the edge of the bed by your hips, moving backwards with you and landing on his knees. You squeaked in response. He was sitting on the floor, right in front of you as your legs hung over the edge of the bed. His hands went up to your nightgown, pushing it up, and you finally realized what he meant. The garter.

Felix groaned, loudly, so loud you were worried that everyone else would be sending noise complaints to… well, who? They’d probably just pass an angry note under the door in the morning if anything. His button nose went to your left thigh, nuzzling into the lace garter. He was breathing heavily, harsh puffs of air being spilled all over your skin and making you feel warm. You squirmed, feeling ticklish.

Felix looked insane. He looked like he’d thoroughly lost his mind, all over you arriving at his bedroom door in a satin nightgown and a bridal leg garter. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and vast, as if he was looking for approval, licking his lips. You didn’t know what he was looking for approval for, but you nodded anyway. His teeth immediately bit into your garter, catching the skin just a tad and making you whine. He dragged it all the way down your leg, spitting it out on the floor before his head was back between your legs, licking fast stripes over your clothed core. The dress obscured his head just a tad, making you feel like you were doing something you shouldn’t be.

“Lix-” You whined, spreading your legs wider. He moaned against the fabric, using his hands to push your legs up and against your chest, to where you dutifully held them up for him. You had no idea why he’d made you do that, but all of a sudden, your underwear was shifting to the side and his middle and ring finger were sliding into your wet hole. It was all so fucking fast, you couldn’t keep up - your brain felt ten steps behind. “Aah- hnng, fuck, Lixie, so quick, Jesus- a- ah-”

“I’m sorry. Need- need to make you cum, so then I can fuck you,” you nodded at his words, hips canting into his hand. Felix stood up, sliding back on the bed to loom over you as he finger fucked you. You’d never had two fingers inside before, but God the stretch felt amazing, and it had you wondering what it’d be like when he finally got his cock inside of you. “I’m sorry. Wanted- wanted to go slow, shit. You’re driving me fucking insane, sugarplum. We don’t have to- we don’t gotta-”

“I want to, God- I want you to fuck me so bad, Felix,” you moaned in a high pitched tone. You were almost embarrassed about the way your words came out, but Felix was smiling, curving his fingers to hit your g-spot.

“Yeah? Do you want it that bad, sugarplum? Thank God, because I can’t wait to make you mine.”

You nodded eagerly, trying to wiggle your hips to get some stimulation on your clit. Felix shifted then, his palm rubbing up against your clit like he had done before. “I’m- I’m already yours, Pixie.”

Felix groaned, a deep groan that came straight from his chest. His fingers went faster, his palm rubbing your clit sloppily and giving you barely any friction. It was enough though. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer. He’d started to actually suck marks into your neck, something you knew you’d have to cover afterwards but you didn’t care so long as he kept bringing you this insane pleasure.

When he shifted again, bringing his thumb up to rub your clit more precisely, you dropped your legs and whimpered. You couldn’t focus on anything, head dizzy at the biting pleasure that was mounting and mounting up and bringing you close to your climax. He was so good with his hands. You wanted to feel him finger fucking you everyday, and a sick part of you reminded you that you could now. You were his legally, married, you were his wife.

Felix let your legs drop and came up to nuzzle at your earlobe, biting it softly with pearly teeth. You were babbling again now, hips canting rhythmically to meet his thrusts. “You getting close, sugarplum? You get nice and squirmy when you’re close.”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, gonna- g’na, yeah, g’na cum-“ You managed to stutter out. Felix simply hummed, and kept his rhythm the same. His thumb continued to swipe precisely over your swollen bud. That combined with the dainty fingers inside of you made you whine, and you grabbed the back of Felix’s head to kiss him as you came.

You moaned into the kiss, him dominating your mouth while your eyebrows furrowed and you let go around his fingers. He moaned back, feeling the slick from your pussy coat his digits and making the thrusting in and out much more slippery.

“Got so wet just for me, sugarplum. Mm,” Felix slipped his fingers out. You almost short circuited and died when he sucked them into his mouth, letting out a puff of air through his nose while he licked them clean. He giggled at your facial expression. “‘S sweet, sorry. You still wanna… do more?”

Felix giggled again when you nodded eagerly, a sweet chime of happiness. You were happy to please him. You wanted to fuck him anyway, because you weren’t blind and could see how fucking hot the Prince was, just like the rest of the nation could.

Felix was laying by your side, nuzzling your cheek when you spoke. It was probably the most declarative, decisive thing you’d said in a while. “We need a condom.”

Felix’s head shot up. He was looking at you with a guilty expression. “Um… I don’t have any, you know, heirs and all that.”

You hummed, saying “that’s fine” just as he said “kidding, lol”. You wanted to berate him for saying the word ‘lol’ out loud, but you were more taken aback by the fact you were fine fucking your best friend raw and hadn’t even put a second thought into it.

“That’s fine?!” Felix shrieked. “I was kidding! I totally have condoms, I was just winding you up-“

You punted him in the shin, sitting up to wriggle your nightgown off. It successfully distracted him and he went quiet, staring at your tits confined in your bra. “Get a condom then, Pixie. There’s nothing stopping you.”

Felix gulped, audible in the room. He was still staring at your chest. “Well, now that you’ve said it, I’m kinda thinking about fucking you raw. It’s hot.”

“Fuck me raw then?” You shrugged. Felix looked like he was about to die. He immediately shot up, wriggling his pajamas off. His cock sprang out of its confines, even more hard than it had been two weeks ago - if that was even possible. It was leaking just like it was before though. Without another moment to think, he was back on the bed, hands tracing shapes on your thighs.

You managed to unclasp your bra and flick it off to the side, and he was on you instantly. His mouth was wrapped around the bud of your right tit, sucking and making you moan. You tried to shift out of your underwear while he was occupied and he conveniently shifted upwards to allow you to do so.

With red raw lips from the suckling, Felix pulled back. “I… Please? Can I?” You nodded, spreading your legs. He took in the sight of you again with your pussy on display and groaned, pumping his cock a few times before positioning it at your entrance.

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. You’d heard horror stories of women bleeding on their first time and even feeling like they were being torn open, but all you felt was a bit of an uncomfortable sensation when he pushed in. It was a stretch obviously, but you found yourself wanting more of the feeling as soon as you experienced it. You could feel the stretch it gave your walls, wet core stretching to accommodate his length. He gave you a second, giving you kisses around your face in anticipation as he bottomed out.

Felix wasn’t faring too well, by the looks of him. His cheeks were flushed red beneath the fawn freckles and his lips were wet, as if he’d almost been drooling. He hadn’t moved yet, only just buried to the hilt inside your sopping wet hole, but his eyes still brimmed with tears at the pleasure.

“That feels… sugarplum, oh, please.” He whined.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pecked his lips fondly, before pecking both of his flushed cheeks. “C’mon. You can move, Pixie.”

Felix immediately started grinding his hips at a slow pace. It was inexperienced, but the speed worked to make you feel a little bit more open and pliant for his cock to bully inside of you. It hadn’t really hit you yet, that you were losing your virginity to your best friend who you’d also just married. That could be because of the immense pleasure you were feeling, or maybe because Felix looked so fucking beautiful whining on top of you. Fuck, if the feeling wasn't heaven, just because it was him - you were getting fucked by your best friend and you knew you'd able to come back for more.

You moaned as he jolted into an extremely sensitive spot inside of you, making you clench your walls around him. “Oh G-God, yeah, like that. So good.”

Felix nodded, chest heaving. He positioned his hips so that he was thrusting directly into that spot, still at a slow pace but just deep and hard enough to feel fucking amazing. “Good? There? Is it- am I… am I good for you?”

You blinked. You took just a second too long to respond as Felix’s newfound submissive nature registered in your brain, and you smiled, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, s-so- ah- such a good boy for me, Lixie. So good.”

Felix’s hips stuttered at that, him wanting to go faster but not knowing if you could take it. He was terrified, worried about hurting you since he knew of horror stories, too. He also knew that it felt so fucking good that he could cry. He was about to cry actually, you’d noticed, his eyes watering just a bit more with every thrust.

His abs rippled above you with exertion at every thrust, his legs pinning yours to rest either side of his. He leaned down, kissing up your neck as he started to pick up the pace just a tad. His hair fanned out around him as he breathed heavily, eyes scrunched shut. He looked ethereal. He was clearly trying not to make too much noise, but deep moans and whines were ringing out when it felt especially good. "God, not gonna last long, sugarplum, I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize, Pixie. F-feels really good for me too," You moaned out, stretching your legs out further. You just needed it a bit deeper, just rub your clit a bit and you were sure you wouldn’t need much else. He was staring down at your core, where his cock was entering and reentering you at a steady pace. "Mm, Lixie?"

"Y-yeah?" Felix responded instantly, head raising to look at you. He looked as if he wanted to stop to check you were okay, but his hips had a mind of their own, pushing back and forth into the wet hole you'd provided willingly for him. His eyes were nearly rolling back in his head.

“I need… can you rub my c-clit, please, need- need it, need it to cum around you,” Felix nodded eagerly, groaning. He used one hand to reach down and rub your clit. You thrashed your head around in response, letting out the most guttural moan you ever had. “Oh, oh yeah, so good for me- hnnf- I’m not gonna last long!” He kissed your nose in response, heavy breaths and moans panting right into your face and only doing more to turn you on. He was beautiful, perfect, and all for you. He was listening so well, caring the most about your pleasure and the way you wanted him to do it.

All of a sudden, his pace picked up, his hips moving in a frenzy. You whined when you felt it, hand going down to his abs in an effort to get him to slow down. It felt way too fucking good, his fingers still rubbing your clit. “G-Gonna cum with me, my Queen? God, please cum with me, need to feel it, I-" Felix was stuttering now, his head thrown back as he tried to keep a solid rhythm on your clit. You decided not to address the title he gave you. You also decided not to address how fucking wet it made you. “Sugarplum, my Queen, fuck, where do I- can I- inside?”

You moaned, feeling your orgasm building up. You pressed further into his hand and length using your hips, gripping onto the sheets behind you with your hands. His eyes were watering as he waited for your response, hands gripping your hips.

"Yeah, yeah, inside- in- inside, Lixie. Pixie, Pixie, oh God, you gonna cum in me? You gonna give me an heir?” Felix moaned loudly at your words, his hands clenching you tighter. You were babbling, going on and on about him letting go inside of you. He was loving it, hanging off of every word, tears now coming from his eyes at the pleasure.

“Yeah, ‘m gonna- Gonna fill you up, sugarplum, mine, mine, gonna- gonna- fuck, ‘m gonna give you an heir, gonna make you full of me-“

You whined out, clutching onto his arms and pushing back against his thrusts. “S-So good for me, Lix, gonna cum-'' You groaned, clenching down on his length one last time and positively exploding around him. You felt it all get wetter between your legs as his hips halted, pressed firmly against your asscheeks. His cock spurted ropes of white inside of you, making Felix let out a loud groan.

Felix collapsed on top of you, making you let out a “hmph” at the added weight. You let out a small laugh nonetheless when he started nuzzling into your neck like a cat, very nearly purring and smiling into your skin.

There were a few moments of silence before he decided to speak. “That was like, so fucking good. I’m g’na need that everyday, mmkay?”

You shook your head, grinning. “Should’ve never given it to you. Now you’re gonna want it all the time.”

“I just want you all the time,” he whispered. “Love spending time with you.”

“I…” You began, flustered. Felix was looking at you with pure admiration in his eyes, his now softening cock still inside of you. It was weirdly comforting. “I love spending time with you too, Lixie.”

“Mm, good. You’re stuck with me now, sugarplum.”

You fell asleep naked that night, cuddling your best friend after getting cleaned up and talking about the meaning of life. He hadn’t mentioned the book, and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or upset about it. It felt right, being in his arms. He was giggling, happy, poking fun at you when you said something stupid and kicking you playfully when you teased him. It felt domestic, like you were meant to be together in bed after sex for the rest of time.

You wished you could allow yourself to do it more often, but you just had no clue what he felt for you anymore.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You woke up next to your Prince, freshly married and freshly fucked. You let yourself laugh internally at your own joke before realizing the actual situation.

You’d fucked your best friend. More importantly, you and your best friend had just lost your virginities to each other and you’d loved every fucking second of it. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? You couldn’t even look him in the eyes during this, after moaning his name while he pummeled his cock inside-

Okay. You needed to wise the fuck up. You also needed to get out of Felix’s room, fast. You had to run. You’d never run from Felix before, but with the anxiety mounting in the pit of your stomach and your head feeling like you’d been dangled upside down for hours… yeah, no. You needed to go.

You shot out of bed, looking at your Prince still tucked up in bed. He was letting out deep breaths, not quite snoring but obvious he was still deep in his slumber. You felt guilty for leaving him, but you were due a long advice session with your mother. You hadn’t heard from her or seen her, apart from the note she left you on your bed with the chemise dress.

The same chemise dress that you’d now have to wear back to your mother’s room. You sighed, pulling the material over your head and slipping your shoes on. You’d worn basic white sandals over, and had thankfully worn that oversized coat, so it should hide you from judging eyes.

You looked at Felix again. You felt so fucking guilty. He looked so beautiful in bed, quilt pushed down to his hips now and showing off his body. The sunlight was blaring in through the curtains and highlighting his abdominal muscles, and you just wanted to bury your face in his tummy and bite hard. You shook your head. You needed to speak to your mother. You were driving yourself insane at this point.

You scurried over to your mother’s chambers, thankful that it wasn’t too far from the Royal Family’s side of the bedroom wing. You’d always been placed close together. You did get a few confused murmurs from staff in your direction, but a quick scathing look from you had them shutting up immediately. Perks of being a Princess now, you supposed. People needed to mind their fucking business though.

You raised your hand up, knocking one knock, and three quick ones after. She’d known it was you from the knock, and the door swung open almost instantly. Her face gave away her surprise to see you at her door so early. You immediately crumpled, throwing yourself at her chest and sobbing.

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” She soothed, stroking your hair. She led you into her room and sat you down on the chair, kissing your forehead. You felt immediately a bit better upon being in her company, but you couldn’t shift the guilt that you left. You’d done it for yourself, but when did you ever do anything for yourself? Apart from marrying Felix just so you didn’t have to see him with anyone else. You’d done that and disguised it in your head as being so that he didn’t have to marry someone he didn’t know, but in reality, you’d been selfish. It had fucking backfired in your face massively. “You… consummated it, I assume?”

You groaned at your mother’s words, reaching up and almost tugging your hair out of your scalp. “D-Don’t wanna talk about it. I need to… I can’t. I fucking can’t.”

Your mother sighed at your language. She kneeled in front of you anyway, placing her hands on your knees. “It’s a bit too late for that, I’m afraid.”

Sniffling, you tried to blink your tears away. It was of no use. They were tumbling down your cheeks freely like the summer rain you and Felix used to dance in when you went to your meadow. You groaned internally. Could you just not think about him for five fucking seconds?

“I… I’m not upset I married him,” you whispered. Your mother nodded, waiting for you to continue. “I think marrying him was one of the greatest things I’ve ever done. I also think it was the worst. I’m… I’m in love with him, and I tried to tell him, and… I just can’t process it. I can’t think straight. I need to get away, just for a bit, just so I can get over my feelings-“

“Going away is not going to rid you of the love you have for that boy, my dear. Things like that are eternal,” Your mother was firm, but soft. She hummed, looking at a space on the wall behind you before nodding. “How about you go and visit your dad’s brother? Your uncle? You’ve not seen him in a while, and it wouldn’t look out of the ordinary at all to go and visit family in the next town after getting married.”

Trust your mother to always think of the way the public would view it. Her job duties still ensured she was a diplomat in every case. You looked at her, in her eyes the same color as yours. It was a good idea. “That’s… yeah, okay. I’ll pack a case and I can go today. Is that alright?”

Your mother smiled again, her long nails going to scratch your scalp. “No longer than a week, my dear. Is that okay?”

She was approving of it. She must understand. You wondered if perhaps your mother had been in a similar situation years ago where she was in a catastrophe and needed to get away. She seemed understanding, and she was telling you what you needed to hear.

You wiped your eyes once more, giving your mother a quick hug before returning to your chambers. You managed to find a large duffle bag that you hadn’t used for years. You struggled to remember what you had even used it for before, before realizing you've used it to smuggle alcohol out of the palace and to a party. Made sense, because now you were using it for another bad fucking decision. It seemed to be all you did.

You shoved a few items of clothing in there, chucking your barely used phone and your charger in there too. Just in case he tried to call, you told yourself. As if you’d pick up anyway, you never used the fucking thing. Quickly getting changed into something more presentable and comfortable for the bus ride over, you slid your shoes back on and slung the duffle bag over your shoulder.

This was it. You were fucking running, like a coward. A part of you knew a week wouldn’t be long enough to rid you of a lifetime full of love for your Prince. A part of you still wanted to try. Seeing family would be the cover - you would actually be seeing family, but you were thinking of it as more of a mental health retreat than anything.

Padding softly out of the palace grounds, you gave a soft wave to the guards posted at the front. Luckily, they didn’t question you. You got a confused facial expression but you simply walked out, making your way down the street to try and find a bus stop.

You almost stopped when you heard quick footsteps behind you. You’d know the sound of those footsteps anywhere - you’d heard it enough times running up and down the palace trying to find you, or trying to run away from you when you were playing some dumb game. You shook your head. Not now, not fucking now. It’s too soon.

“Hey- wait!” It was Felix. You sighed, picking up the pace and dragging your heartbreak along with you. It was hurting you to leave your best friend, your only love, the one that had you enchanted by something a lot more complicated than fictional magic - love. You reassured yourself mentally that you just needed a week, just a few days to process everything and hopefully try to sedate your feelings.

“Jesus, when did you become a fucking athlete, oh my God sugarplum, stop running so fucking fast! Please, just hear me out!”

You stopped dead in your tracks. His pleading always got to you, and you were met with puppy dog eyes you knew you’d see when you spun around to face him. He was dressed casually, baggy sweatpants clad on his legs and a loose hoodie almost falling off one bare shoulder, exposing the freckles littered on his skin. He hadn’t even put proper shoes on - he stood in front of you in sliders. No wonder it had been so hard for him to keep up, you thought, rather pettily. The fucker hadn’t even put shoes on.

You huffed nonetheless, crossing your arms over your chest. “What is it, Felix?”

“I- I just wanted to tell you something,” he bent over, trying to catch his breath and putting his hands on his knees. You wanted to roll your eyes, but he still had you under his spell, and you felt sorry for him. Why had you been running so fast? Why didn’t you just slow down and let him catch up? “I… I know it’s hard. I roped you into marrying me, and it clearly upset you so much you wanted to leave, and I understand that. But then, the book you gave me, the fucking book! And… I know it’s difficult, I know you’re mad at me especially since we had sex, but I’ve been feeling this for like, ever, and-”

You blushed, arms dropping to your sides. “Lix!”

“I just wanted to say that…” Felix huffed, finally returning to his standing position and running a hand through his hair. His hair was wet with sweat, no doubt from running to catch up to you and in his thick clothes. You felt guilty for even wanting to leave. You knew you wouldn’t even be gone long, a week, max - but Felix was nothing if not dramatic. “This is so fucking hard to say, sugarplum. I had a whole thing planned, a big one. That’s why I never mentioned the book. But then you left.”

“God, Lix, will you just get it out?! I don’t have forever-”

“I’m in love with you.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @moasworld . @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad . @queenofthegardengnomes . @boomfrogg . @hoeinthehouse . @msaddictions . @sunnyhonie . @hizliyuruyen . @jyu037 . @jouoy . @drhsthl . @seungincore . @jellylver . @veedoesntknaur . @meloncremesoda . @k-poplv . @livieloo914 . @fekixfmp . @fawnpeaks . @minnielvr . @imastraykidsfan . @hanjisung2023 . @hoelynecujoh . @kyrviu . @sxgeofprohets . @everydreams-penumbra . @chaneomma

2K notes · View notes