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neteyamssock · 2 days ago

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Not so bad, after all.

╰┈➤ PART VI.

pairing: agedup!Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

summary: when neteyam and you met each other for the first time, they were overwhelmed with feelings they have never felt before.

word count: 2.5k

tags: violence, fighting, crying... (idk what else, please tell me if I left something out!)

a/n: unedited! rough draft straight from gdocs. i promise i'll revise this series once i finish it huhu. feedbacks is very much appreciated! thank you very much 😘💜

text divider credits to @/enchanthings

masterlist

part v | part vii (end)

It was one bright morning when you visited Ronal’s marui, seeking her out. Although the older woman was surprised that you were actively seeking her, she didn’t think too much about it and let you in. The tsahik and olo-eyktan’s marui is the largest marui in awa’atlu, the most intricate and grand, with decorations that represents the couple’s authority in the clan. You roamed your eyes inside and remembered how aonung would often say that once the two of you mated, he’d build one bigger than his parents’ marui.

Your stomach flipped at the thought. You know he doesn’t love you, but unlike you, he’s ready to settle if it means his parents would be happy.

“Why look for me, girl? Is there a bottleneck in your learning?” She beckoned you to sit in front of her, busying herself with her weaving. You didn’t fail to notice the changes in her stomach. The babe in her womb is growing, and its beginning to show in her body.

Noticing your gaze, a small smile graced her lips fleetingly before returning to her usual stoic expression. Caressing her stomach, she good-naturedly said. “You’re also going to experience pregnancy when you mate with my son. So it is good that you’re taking observations.”

You felt your throat getting blocked as you fidgeted, feeling of dread overturning your previous calm thoughts. When you didn’t respond as optimistic as she expected, Ronal’s eyes narrowed. “Why show such a look? Are you perhaps against the idea of getting pregnant right after mating? That’s fine. Both you and aonung are still young—”

“It’s not because of that, Tsahik…” you forced yourself to speak up, afraid of meeting her gaze. You saw her finally put down what she was weaving and looked at you with a scrutinizing gaze. You can feel her sharps dissecting you, trying to see through you.

“Then what? Speak up. Perhaps I could give you some solutions for whatever’s bothering you. This must be the reason you sought me out, am I right?”

You bite on your lip so hard it hurts. Your hand was clenched tight, you wanted to flee. Your resolve is crumbling bit by bit. It’s no secret that you are afraid of the Tsahik. You knew her ability, and knew what she could do. For a moment you considered backing out, but Neteyam’s face appeared in your mind, reminding you what you must do.

And you must do it now. Now, or never.

You never wanted to mate with Aonung. From the moment you learned how to think, you just saw him as a brother. It never once crossed your mind that you’d mate with him, even when your grandfather arranged you with him. Instead of facing the truth, you pretended the arrangement wasn’t real and cowardly hoped everyone would change their mind. Everyone seemed content with it, it was only you who cannot accept it.

“...I came here to express my desire to break my arrangement with Aon—”

“PREPOSTEROUS!”

BANG!

A small stone jar broke into several pieces in front of you. One grazed your cheek, causing it to bleed. It stings, but perhaps the pain in your heart was a lot stronger. You closed your eyes when Ronal pulled you to stand up roughly.

“What are you saying now, child?! Have you lost your mind?! You cannot easily dismiss an arrangement you worked hard for so many years!”

Before you can even reply, she pushes you roughly, making you stumble a few steps back. You can no longer control your tears as the Olo-eyktan, Aonung, and Tsireya came charging in the marui.

“What is causing all these commotions, Tsahik?” With a loud thunderous voice, the olo-eyktan questioned. At this moment, everyone noticed the commotion and was watching with confused eyes. Aonung and Tsireya were looking at you and Ronal back and forth, trying to decipher what could have led to these confrontations. You cannot look them in the eye, feeling ashamed.

Ronal sneered and pointed at you, voice shrill as she said. “This foolish girl wants to break her arrangement with Aonung! An arrangement approved by great mother Eywa!”

You can hear gasps and murmurs of your clansmen, looking at you with unapproving eyes. You almost wanted to laugh. Eywa’s will? No. The great mother would not be so cruel. You are also her child, she would not force you in a loveless arrangement, would she?

In your peripherals you can see Aonung bowing his head, clenching his hands into fist. You cannot see the expression he’s making, but you know he’s furious. At you, maybe. Tsireya was trying her best to not cry, looking at you with a sympathetic gaze. It makes you feel better, giving you air to breathe. You avoided her gaze and looked back at Ronal and Tonowari with defiant eyes, even more resolute in your decision.

“Is this true, ____?” Tonowari’s jaw tightened, his gaze held disappointment and disapproval.

“Yes, Olo-eyktan. That is true.” You were surprised at how calm your voice is, the conviction in it so palpable as if you have finally found your voice after all those years of being mute.

Tonowari closed his eyes, trying to control his temper while Ronal got even more furious. “Girl, it would do you well to remember that it was your grandfather who begged us for this arrangement! How ridiculous of you to throw all that away for your nonsensical whims!”

You understand Ronal’s anger. Of course she’d be furious, all those years of preparing you to be the next Tsahik would be put to waste, and she’d start all over again. But you’re done with always thinking about others. Of putting everyone’s happiness before yours. At least at this moment, you want to be selfish. You want to choose yourself, even if it means hurting others and yourself in the process.

“Indeed, it was my grandfather who begged for this arrangement. All he wants is to make me happy, but I am not happy, Tsahik. I have finally gained confidence to say that this is not the path for me, and Eywa can bear witness. All those years I remained silent, but I can no longer do that. Not when—”

“It’s Neteyam, isn’t it? You wanted to break the arrangement because you have fallen for an outsider!”

You froze, staring wide-eyed at Aonung as he did the worst thing he could ever do in this situation. Bringing up Neteyam. You knew things would get far more complicated once Neteyam got caught in the issue. All this time you’re treading carefully, hoping not to get Neteyam involved, but Aonung just has to ruin it for you.

“That’s not—”

“I’ll kill him!” Aonung ruthlessly pushed Tsireya away when she tried stopping him. As you were about to run after him, Tonwari pinned you at your place with just his gaze. You could only shoot Tsireya a begging look before standing back in place. Tsireya shot you a small supportive smile before running after aonung.

“You have fallen for the Sully boy? Don’t try to lie, child. I have watched you grow up, like you’re my own child. So you must tell us the truth.”

“ABSURD! I knew taking in that fam—”

“Tsahik you must calm down, you are with a child.”

Ronal scoffed, turning around in anger. She refused to look at you. Perhaps too disappointed to even spare you a glance.

You have no choice but to admit it. “Yes. I wish to be with Neteyam, but it is not the only reason why I want to dismiss the arrangement. I do not see Aonung as anything more than a brother. It would be unfair for Aonung if I force myself into this arrangement without my heart in it.”

“My son is will be an excellent man, I'm sure you'll learn to adore him when he becomes a man. You—”

“My decision is final. Begging the Olo-eyktan and Tsahik to consider my plea.”

Tonowari regarded you with a searching gaze. He had always known you as silent, reserved, and obedient. Someone who would immediately follow orders in silence. At this moment, he’s seeing you in a new light. Seeing your determination and sincerity, he waved his hand. “Are you certain of this, _____? Once you let go, you can never get it back.”

You smiled, appreciating Tonowari’s care for you, but you don’t want to go back. Not when freedom is near, almost within your grasp. “I am certain, Olo-eyktan. I will stand by my choice until the end.”

Ronal sneered at your words, glancing at Tonowari, telling him to wake you up from your delusions, but Tonowari avoided her gaze. Instead, he said to you, “I’ll give you an answer soon, but you must tell your grandfather of your plan yourself.”

“Tonowari!” Ronal shrieked, but Tonowari only motioned you to leave as he said. “Leave us, I’ll talk to the Tsahik.”

So you did. With your heart singing in joy, you ran towards Neteyam’s marui, only for your excitement to turn into horror as you saw Aonung being held back by others and Neteyam standing in front of him with bleeding lips.

“You!” Aonung’s furious shout immediately caught everyone’s attention. He was heaving, anger so palpable that everyone quickly backed away from him, afraid of attracting his ire.

Neteyam was standing in front of their marui when he saw Aonung charging at him with a furious expression. His eyes narrowed and was about to ask what’s his problem when Aonung approached him and...

SMACK!

“Woah woah woah! What are you doing?!?”

Jake immediately pulled Neteyam behind his back as Neteyam’s ears buzzed, cheek and the corner of his lips stinging. Aonung had slapped him hard enough for his head to turn. Hearing the commotion, Neytiri, Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk had also emerged from the marui, standing behind Jake and Neteyam with sharp eyes. Seeing Neteyam’s bloodied lips, Neytiri hissed at Aonung.

“You fish lips! How dare you hurt my brother!” Lo’ak angrily shouted, planning to teach Aonung another lesson when Neteyam pulled him back. Although unwilling, Lo’ak shook his head and glared at Aonung as he stepped back.

Neteyam gave his mother a glance, telling her he’s fine and he can handle it. Although worried, Neytiri took a step back and took Kiri and Tuk’s hand into hers, allowing Jake and Neteyam to take control of the situation.

It is clear to Neteyam what that slap meant. The reason why Aonung is so mad at him, as if ready to murder him any second. It was your face that appeared in Neteyam’s mind, your promise to him in your secret place. He closed his eyes and let out a laugh, joy filling his heart instead of anger. The pain in his cheek faded. It’s all worth it, because Aonung’s presence here only means you have made your move and fulfilled your promise to him.

Neteyam’s laughter seems to provoke Aonung as he begins cursing, trying to hit Neteyam. Jake on the other hand looked at his oldest son, incredulous. Did he just laugh after getting slapped?

“This is between me and your son, Toruk Makto! He must fight me!”

“Dad, let me handle this. This is something I must do.”

Jake’s jaw tightened, when Neteyam motioned for him to step back, he hesitated. Neteyam had to urge him again before he stepped away, still worried about Neteyam.

Neteyam stood face to face with Aonung, chin held high as he regarded that other man, not afraid to meet his furious eyes. “Let’s talk, brother.”

“I am not your brother!” Aonung hissed as he delivered another slap, but Neteyam dodged it easily. Seeing him unscathed, Aonung launched another hit but Tsireya had also arrived, pulling Aonung back with all her strength. “Aonung, stop! You must not resort to violence!”

“Let go sister! I must teach this kurkung a lesson!”

Tsireya cried out when Aonung accidentally elbowed her. Lo’ak seeing his girl being hurt, almost went forward again, but was glared at by his mother. Seeing Tsireya struggling, their clansmen finally regained their senses and held the flailing metkayina successor. Aonung hissed angrily at his captors, regretting that he lost focus a moment for hurting his beloved sister.

Finally held down, Aonung was no longer flailing as hard as before, but was still glaring daggers at Neteyam. The latter merely wiped his lips with his hand, not caring about the sting, seemingly in cloud nine.

“Tell us boy, what is the reason for your anger? What did my son do to get such a reaction from you?” Neytiri’s ears were pinned back, tail swishing side by side. She's displeased that her son got hurt when they didn't even have a clear idea of what warranted that slap.

Aonung huffed, pointing at Neteyam with a vicious snarl. “He stole my mate! He stole ______ from me!”

Silence. For a moment, the breeze and the waves are the only noises that can be heard, before everyone breaks into a myriad of reactions. Jake closed his eyes as he groaned, feeling a headache coming. Neytiri merely sighed, having been aware of her son’s relations with you. Kiri muttered up a few “what the fuck”, Lo’ak nudging his brother with a triumphant grin, and Tuk who looked a bit confused.

Neteyam cleared his throat. “Aonung, calm down and listen to me. She’s not your mate yet. You haven’t made tsaheylu before Eywa. She also told me that you do not desire each other, and are merely fulfilling your duties to the clan. Now that she wants to dismiss the arrangement, you must respect her ideas. Whether it's me, or any other man, you must allow her to choose.”

Aonung sneered, shaking his head as he started laughing uncontrollably. Tears began falling from his eyes as he stared at the sky. Whispering he said, “What does she even know about what I feel for her? She knows nothing! You hear me? She knows nothing!”

At this moment, Neteyam’s chest tightened. A sense of foreboding from the depths of his mind. His doubts that he tried to deny began surfacing again. “What do you mean by that?”

Before Aonung could say anything, you came running towards Neteyam’s side, shaking as you examined him all over. When you saw the bruise on his face, the tears you have been trying to control fell freely. Pain eroded your heart as traced his wounds with your fingers.

Seeing you, the panic in Neteyam's heart settled. He held you close in relief as he said, “I’m fine, ocean girl. Do not cry, for it makes me want to cry too. Shush, I’m fine.”

Looking at his solemn eyes, you nodded and took a deep breath. You wiped your tears and turned towards Aonung. He wasn’t looking at you, tears still falling from his eyes. It hurts you to see him like this, for Aonung has never shed tears all his life. You hurt him. You betrayed his trust, broke the promise the two of you made.

But it must be done.

Walking towards him, you took his hands and held them tightly. It made him look at you, but you cannot read his eyes. “Aonung, I know what I did is something that cannot be easily forgiven. I threw all the grace that you and your family had given me, but I know in my heart that I do not regret what I did, and will never regret it for the rest of my life. I just want you to understand.”

He stared at you for a long while, taking in your features. You looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping he’d understand where you are coming from.

“You’re so selfish, ______.”

“I’m sorry, Aonung. I truly am.”

“I do not need your apologies, _______. A broken trust cannot be mended by simple apologies.”

Wrenching his hands from your grasp, he pushed everyone away, not once does he ever look back. You stared at his back and sobbed as Neteyam took you in his arms silently, warm hands cupping your face as he wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“Hush now, ocean girl. We're still far from being done. You still have to face my family.” He teased, smiling at you as he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“Shut up, skxawng. I’m having a moment and you ruined it.”

Laughing, he shrugged. “I can’t just watch a pretty girl cry y’know? Makes me want to cry too.”

A/N: screaming crying punching kicking— ahhhhh last chapter remaining! this series has a lot of holes i have to mend after i finish the last chapter. but it's a rough draft so it's expected. anyways, feedback is very much appreciated! thank you very much, mwah!

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paxny · 9 months ago

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feral screeching from offscreen

No, I definitely haven’t been thinking about this scene nonstop for almost a week straight, that would be absurd, hahaha

- The Saint (1997)

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rafecameronssl4t · 5 months ago

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Misunderstandings || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sofia knew what she was doing when mentioning Rafe to you, and she also knew what she was doing when she told you that he never mentioned you, his girlfriend.

Warnings: swearing, fluff at the end, angst

Word count: 873

A/n: kinda really don’t like Sofia 😄

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

“Hey, what can I get you?” asks a smiling girl you don’t recognize. She approaches the three of you as you and your close friends settle into the bar stools at the country club, ready to enjoy lunch and catch up. It’s been two weeks since you returned from visiting family overseas, and this gathering feels long overdue.

“Just the usual, please, Sofia,” your friends Kaycee and Jada say with a smile to the brunette server. Her natural beauty was almost unfair. “Coming right up. And for you?” she asks, turning to you. “Oh, uh, the same as them, please,” you respond.

She nods with a soft smile before turning around to start on your drinks. “Is she new?” you inquire, gesturing subtly towards Sofia as your friends glance over at her.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. She started just when you left,” Kaycee responds, her attention shifting back to the menu. You nod slowly in acknowledgment, taking in the information before refocusing your attention on the conversation.

“Is Rafe joining us?” Kaycee inquires, her tone laced with curiosity as she turns her gaze towards you. Just as you open your mouth to respond, Sofia interjects with unexpected enthusiasm, her eyes lighting up. “Rafe’s coming?” Her bubbly expression catches you off guard, and you exchange surprised glances with your friends, wondering why she’s so ecstatic about your boyfriend’s arrival.

There’s a brief moment of silence as you all process Sofia’s reaction, the atmosphere around the table becoming slightly more charged with curiosity. You can’t help but wonder if there’s more to Sofia’s excitement than meets the eye, but before you can dwell on it further, Jada interjects.

“Rafe is—” Before she can finish her sentence, you quickly kick her lightly on the shin to shut her up. “Yeah, he is. You know Rafe?” you smoothly interject, trying to keep your relationship with Rafe a secret for now.

You watch Sofia closely, intrigued by her sudden enthusiasm. To your surprise, she responds with a wide smile, her dimples on full display.

“Yeah. Yeah— he’s pretty cute. Great company too when I’m closing up,” Sofia remarks casually, her tone tinged with a hint of admiration. You raise an eyebrow at her words, sensing a shift in the conversation.

“Really?” you inquire, trying to conceal your surprise. Sofia chuckles softly as she dries a few cups, her movements graceful and effortless. “Yeah, you’d think he has a girlfriend, right? With all that charm he has,” she muses, a small sigh escaping her lips.

You exchange a quick glance with Jada and Kaycee, both of them wearing wide-eyed expressions that mirror your own astonishment.

Ignoring the wide-eyed looks from Jada and Kaycee and the unsettling feeling creeping up from your stomach, you clear your throat, attempting to maintain composure. “I for sure thought that he had a girlfriend,” you say, feigning innocence as you try to mask the rising anger within you.

Sofia shakes her head, her demeanor casual as she continues drying the cups. “Nope. He never mentioned he had one,” she replies, her tone nonchalant.

You roll your tongue against your cheek as you lean back, a wave of frustration nearly bubbling over. Despite your efforts to keep calm, the revelation leaves you feeling betrayed and unsure of what to make of Rafe’s silence about his relationship status.

Your phone suddenly pings, breaking the tension, and you glance down at it, noticing a text from Rafe saying he’s on his way. “That’s really interesting. Thanks for letting me know, Sof,” you say with forced politeness, though your lips purse together and you cross your arms, staring down at your feet, trying to process the mix of emotions swirling inside you.

“Letting you know what?” Sofia innocently chuckles, oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind. Without answering her, you and your friends silently agree to move to another table to have your meals, needing some distance from the uncomfortable conversation.

“What the fuck,” Jada whispers angrily as you walk away from the bar, her frustration palpable. “How does she not know you’re Rafe’s girlfriend? Everyone on this damn island knows it,” Kaycee adds, her voice tinged with disbelief.

As you find a new table, the weight of Sofia’s obliviousness hangs heavy in the air, leaving you to wonder how Rafe could have kept such a significant detail about your relationship hidden from someone you thought was just a casual acquaintance.

You scoff, the frustration and anger boiling over as you aggressively put your purse on the table. “Obviously not her, because Rafe made her believe that he was fucking single. What a fucking dick,” you huff, the bitterness evident in your voice.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You thought you could trust Rafe, especially after being with him for years now and never bumping into an issue like this. You would have never thought he’d do something like this, keeping such a significant detail about your relationship hidden and potentially leading someone else on.m, especially with how protective he is of you outside.

Fifteen minutes later, you notice Jada and Kaycee awkwardly looking at something behind you, and you can sense that it’s Rafe approaching. You feel his arms wrap around your shoulders, and he leans down to kiss your cheek, but you keep your gaze fixed elsewhere, unimpressed by his display of affection.

The tension in the air is palpable as you struggle to maintain composure, feeling a mixture of resentment and disappointment toward Rafe for his recent actions.

“Hey,” Rafe says to you, but you remain quiet, refusing to engage with him. “Ladies,” he greets your friends with a forced smile as he takes off his sunglasses.

“Hi,” they both respond awkwardly, exchanging glances. The next few seconds are filled with tense silence as Rafe attempts to decipher your mood.

“Uh, we’re just gonna go to the bathroom,” Jada announces suddenly, her voice strained as she gets up, pulling Kaycee along with her. Rafe lets out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as he watches them leave. The lingering tension between you and him hangs heavy in the air, leaving both of you at a loss for words.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Rafe asks, his voice laced with concern as he places his large hand on your thigh. But you quickly remove it, unable to bear his touch.

You can feel the hurt in his expression as he recoils slightly, his hand dropping to his side. The silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Despite his attempt to reach out, you remain distant, the sense of betrayal and disappointment still raw within you.

“Do you know Sofia?” you finally speak up, breaking the tense silence. “Who? Oh— yeah. Sof. What about her?” Rafe responds, his confusion evident. You let out a scoff at the nickname, unable to hide your annoyance. “How come she doesn’t know you have a girlfriend?” you demand, your frustration bubbling over.

Rafe’s eyebrows furrow at your word, shrugging, “How would I fuckin’ know—““Oh, I don’t know, Rafe, maybe because you’re the one that made her believe that,” you interject sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his attempt to feign innocence. The weight of your words hangs in the air, the tension between you escalating with each passing moment.

“Don’t give me that fucking attitude,” Rafe snaps angrily, his frustration evident. “You’re so full of shit, Rafe. You purposely left out the fact that you had a girlfriend so you could get into her pants!” you retort, your voice rising ever so slightly with indignation. He hushes you, casting a quick glance around the room before grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the table.

Sofia’s wandering eyes don’t go unnoticed as she looks at the two of you with furrowed eyebrows, her curiosity evident as Rafe leads you outside.

“Let go of me,” you demand, pushing Rafe’s hands away from you as you stand your ground, creating distance between the two of you. The intensity of your emotions swirls within you, a mixture of anger, hurt, and betrayal driving your actions.

“Look, I dunno what the fuck she said to you, but it’s not what it seems.” Your lips part in shock at his words. “Then go ahead, Rafe! Tell me!” you demand, throwing your arms up in exasperation. One of his hands pinches the bridge of his nose while the other rests on his hip, a sign of his growing frustration.

“Okay, okay, what—what’d she tell you?” His tone begins to calm down slightly. “She said you kept her company and never mentioned having a girlfriend—” Rafe cuts in sharply, “—she never asked—” “Shut the fuck up while I’m talking!” you retort, your voice laced with irritation at his interruption.

Your grip tightens on your handbag, your knuckles turning white as Rafe throws his head back in frustration, his eyes closing briefly as if trying to collect his thoughts. “She was new on the island and had no one. I was only talking about the places that she could visit around the island- that’s it- I swear.”

“What?” you snap, your eyes locking with Rafe’s as he stares at you intensely. “My phone was literally right under her nose, Y/N. She would’ve seen my lock screen of you,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. His frustration is evident, but so is yours, each of you standing firm in your stance.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I thought I made it quite clear that I had a missus when I literally picked up your call in front of her on Saturday night.” Your eyes soften at his words. You remember the call vividly: the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations in the background when he mentioned he was at the country club.

You can still hear his voice, calm and steady, as he reassured you of his whereabouts. The memory tugs at your heart, causing a flicker of doubt about your initial assumptions. You begin to question whether you might have misunderstood the situation, your anger wavering as you process his explanation.

You let out a shaky breath, crossing your arms in an attempt to shield yourself from him. “I’m sorry. It’s just—the way Sofia made it out to be, you never mentioned me,” you quietly admit, your eyes fixed on your Hermès sandals. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken tension, until suddenly you feel his arms enveloping you in a hug.

His embrace is warm and reassuring, melting away some of the lingering doubt and frustration. It’s a silent acknowledgment of your feelings, a wordless apology for any misunderstanding. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to lean into his embrace.

“Babe, ‘s fine, should’ve known she was a jealous little thing,” Rafe murmurs, his lips brushing against the crown of your head as he sighs. With the side of your face pressed against Rafe’s firm chest, your senses are filled with nothing but him. His heartbeat reverberates against your cheek, a steady rhythm that grounds you in the present moment.

NEXT PART

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lukesaprince · 6 months ago

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Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings: SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight.

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything.

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise.

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return.

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible.

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night.

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders.

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy.

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about.

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t.

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window.

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over.

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin.

You prayed it was only her being skittish.

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet.

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time.

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell.

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in.

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived.

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful.

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience.

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.”

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds.

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive.

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him.

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating.

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet.

“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily.

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him.

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart.

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside.

You wanted to save him.

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along.

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you.

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night.

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it.

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along.

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected.

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time.

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air.

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh.

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window.

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.�� He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word.

Mine.

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting.

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that?

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?”

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up.

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was.

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release.

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.”

Shit.

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.”

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all.

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin.

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now.

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street.

But tonight… you knew.

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew.

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times.

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it.

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway.

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky.

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him.

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.”

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck.

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip.

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms.

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.”

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you.

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it.

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss.

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue.

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him.

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds.

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already.

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine.

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped.

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.”

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away.

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his.

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world.

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world.

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?”

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you.

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.”

All you could do was nod.

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head.

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever.

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips.

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny.

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom.

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you.

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.”

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him.

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples.

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday.

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches.

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever.

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything.

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp.

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch.

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face.

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body.

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert.

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you.

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face.

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe.

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling.

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked.

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy.

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?”

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word.

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you.

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine.

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him.

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?”

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you.

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him.

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?”

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern.

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you.

“Mhmm.”

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you.

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle.

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way.

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit.

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore.

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.”

“Good.”

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you.

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin.

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed.

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin.

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil.

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on?

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again.

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly.

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room.

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs.

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name.

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night.

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder.

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you.

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual.

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it.

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible.

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure.

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again.

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long.

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…”

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing.

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it.

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself.

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge.

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time.

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever.

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears.

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back.

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come.

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling.

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed.

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him.

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric.

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of.

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air.

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you.

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck.

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry.

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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chaptersleftunwritten · 2 months ago

Text

Bite my lip just for the taste

nonnie request here

Blurb: Eddie isn’t only good with his hands. He worships the ground you gracefully walk on and he is determined to satisfy you in every way that he can. Your pleasure is his pleasure and thanks to your mutual friend Steve, he might just have a chance to give you what you deserve.

Pairing: Older!Mechanic!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, lust at first sight, rough!dom!Eddie (careful what you wish for, right?), oral (m receiving), p in v sex, sloppy kisses, naked bodies and underwear description, reader referred to as girl, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), alcohol, characters are of ages 25+ and 30+

divider by @cafekitsune

Not only was Eddie Munson phenomenal with his hands when it came to mending cars and tinkering around with bolts and nuts… but he knew a trick or two with his strong muscular tongue and his long skilled fingers; and they weren’t associated with playing guitar or singing a epic chorus.

Eddie knew how to fuck— and he was fucking great at it.

But he couldn’t just come out straight with it and tell you that— he had to ease into it. It was like a dark lustrous dance of longing and need and he didn’t mind if he were in it for the long run.

Eddie wanted you but he knew that perfection took time.

It all began on a sweltering summers day. The metal head was very well educated on how car batteries and engines reacted to intense heat— but no amount of study could have prepared him for the way your car trundled into his garage.

Wiping the sweat from his thick brow he watched how you swung open the door with a tired groan and a chesty grumble. Full of merciless rage as you rattled your hands against the metal plating of the evidently old vehicle. Swearing like a sailor on a sinking ship, “Piece of shit!! I hope they crush you!”

Eddie couldn’t control the way his jaw nearly hit the dusty courtyard floor as your heeled foot struck against the cars front tire multiple times. Your rage wasn’t what surprised Eddie— he was accustomed to watching customers let out their pent up rage onto their dying automobiles. But what stunned him was you. You presented yourself in a way that made Eddie question why you decided to bring your car all the way down to this side of town when you clearly could afford to go elsewhere.

Not to toot his own horn, but Eddie was one of the best mechanics this town had to offer. However, he did hold a reputation that much of the community did not agree with. He had a look that made people uncomfortable— that made them run away.

But not you.

You charged toward him fiercely and determined. You made Eddie shrink in his boots.

“Hi, I’m looking for Eddie? Eddie Munson? I’m told this is his place.” Your sugar coated tongue had Eddie’s mind reeling. The contrast of your actions and your personality made him want to laugh aloud— but he managed to keep his humour to himself. For now. You hoop your keys around your index finger, swirling the metal so they would clank and chime against one another.

“You’re looking at him, princess,” He wipes his large oil covered hands against the dark denim of his jeans, toying with the chunky silver rings that graced his fingers as he drank you in further— having a better view of you now, “How can I help?” He briefly glances over to your car, his two front teeth puncturing his bottom lip as he recalls the way you were attacking it just moments earlier.

“My friend Steve said if anyone can fix this hunk of shit then it would be you.” You offer Eddie a tight lipped smile, your hands resting comfortably on your hips as you also gaze back over at the rust bucket your father gifted you 4 years prior, “She isn’t much to look at, but she meant a lot to my old man so… I sort of have to keep her around, Y’know?” You roll your eyes comically and Eddie hums in acknowledgment, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his plump chest that is clad in a tarnish white tank top.

“I get it.” He grins and winks at you, walking over to where you had abandoned your prized possession, “I hope Harrington put a good word in for me, his car would’ve been scrapped last year if it weren’t for my talent.”

“He said you were the best… alongside some other things that I best not mention if you wanna keep your friendship with him on good terms.”

Eddie laughs as he leans against the bonnet of your car, his wandering eyes flickering from your skirt that is stretched across the fullness of your thighs and up to your face and all over again. He couldn’t seem to pull his attention away from you.

“It’s unlocked, if you’d like to have a look inside.” You gesture toward the hood of the car which the metal head is leisurely draped on and Eddie’s cheeks warm at the inkling that he was caught gawking at you.

“Yeah, I’ll pop it open. It might just be the heat…”

It was now your turn to rake your eyes over Eddie’s frame as he peers into the organs of your nearly dead vehicle. He was only older than you by a couple of years and yet he seemed much more experienced in life than you did. The tattoos against his pale skin had you nibbling on the plush flesh of your bottom lip. His jeans hung loosely on his hips, held up by a studded black leather belt and above the hem you could see the waistband of his boxer briefs peering out at you.

One thing Steve had failed to mention to you before your arrival was how smoking hot Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson was. If you had known sooner, you would’ve dressed up a bit more— maybe you would’ve gotten changed out of your PA office attire.

But still, your tight fitted blouse and shiny black heels would just have to suffice.

“What are you doing right now?” Boldly you move around to meet Eddie’s line of vision. His eyebrows knit together in slight confusion and he flicks his fingers toward the open hood of the car, “No, I mean, after this. What are you doing? Do you.. have plans? Maybe going home to a girlfriend, perhaps?” You weren’t very subtle, but screw it! You saw the hunger in his eyes when you first showed up— he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him and you hadn’t been taken care of in a long time.

You were needy. Desperate. And Eddie may as well have been served up to you on a silver platter!

“Plans? Oh uh… no. Not at all. I uh… I was going to go home and have some shitty wine,” His pink lips perk up into a toothy smile, a knowing smile, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress your own, “Does that maybe interest you? You don’t seem like a shitty wine girl.”

You shrug your shoulders and a transparent smugness settles deep into the apples of your cheeks, “I like shitty wine.”

“The good thing about being your own boss is that you can finish whenever you want.” He slaps the bonnet of the car shut and dusts his large hands against one another, “How about I look at this tomorrow and we can take my car back to mine? Or would you like to check out my ass for a bit longer?” He slyly winks at you and your face tilts toward the ground as you make a feeble attempt to conceal the blazing fire that was torturing your skin.

“Hmmm that depends— can you guarantee that you’re not some psycho and that I won’t end up on the front page of the paper tomorrow?” For someone whose body may as well be a ferness with how hot it is, you sure are making Eddie work for what you both want. Something about him made you brave, but it also made you… timid. Quiet… obedient.

And boy oh boy, Eddie was enjoying every second of the power he had over you.

“How about I let you drive? You have the keys… you have the control.” His husky voice drops an octave as he takes a few steady strides toward you. His gaze penetrates yours and his dangerous eyes have an addictive allure. Captivating and intimidating. Revealing little but knowing much… it was exciting. He excites you.

“That could work…” your voice betrays your facade of confidence and Eddie grins wider at the soft falter in your tone. He could read you like a book. Your inviting body language, the blown darkness in the centre of your glossy eyes and the way you don’t back away from him as he stalks even closer to you. You were his prey… and he was the hunter set on a target.

One of Eddie’s rough calloused hands gently takes yours. He positions your palm flat out toward the sky so he could drop his keys onto it all while his focus on your face remains unwavering, “The keys to the castle.”

“Fitting, since you called me a princess earlier.”

“Maybe I orchestrated this from the beginning?” An entertained eyebrow perks up behind his stringy damp bangs.

“Is that so?” The sound of your hushed voice echoes back at you and your lips part longingly at Eddie’s close proximity. He is close enough to kiss— tasty enough to devour. A banquet of all of the most desirable and finer things in life.

“I saw you in those heels and with those legs… I couldn’t resist. They don’t call me a Eddie the freak Munson for no reason, princess.” There is a clip to his voice, a new intensity piercing through his words like a pin to a voodoo doll.

“You might just have to show me how freaky you really are then, Mr. freak…”

Eddie was right. The wine did taste like shit.

You were currently draped across Eddie’s large sofa, the soft suede fabric welcomed the mould of your body as you sunk into airy cushions and you sipped hesitantly from your stemmed glass. Smearing your dark lipstick across the pristine rim as you did.

Eddie was perched on a chair across from you which was cut from the same material as the couch. His feet were planted to the floor and his legs were spread wide; like a King on his throne. There was a coffee table separating the two of you and part of you questioned why he was so far away.

You and Eddie locked eyes, a welcoming and long stare. It was comfortable, patient but growing. Neither of you looked away, but none of you made the first move, either.

Eddie was assessing you. He was trying to figure out how this would go. How it would play out. Who was going to be the dominant one and who was going to submit?

You wanted it to be him. You wanted him to know that you needed your decisions made for you tonight.

You bring your glass of wine back to your mouth, taking a small drink and proceeding to lick and bite your lip afterwards. An unspoken invitation that Eddie silently accepts.

The warm light that glows from the table lamp next to you illuminates Eddie in a gorgeous orange hue, darkening his tattoos and brightening the metal around his fingers and his neck. You envision how he would look above you— glistening in sweat with his necklace shimmering as it dangles atop of your face. The image nearly causes you to whine aloud.

Nearly.

You surveyed your surroundings, “This is a nice place you have— very cozy.” You place your wine glass on a coaster, coming back to snuggle into the pillows of the sofa and Eddie hums, pleased.

“It’s no bachelor pad but it’s home.” He tilts his nearly empty glass toward you and a mischievous smile toys with the edges of his lips, “Thank you.”

He finishes his drink with one swift movement before he is leaving his post from across from you. You watch him with blown eyes, eyes that are bright and eager. He settles his lean and sturdy physique against the door frame that leads into his kitchen space.

Your heart rate quickens with anticipation and your hips squirm beneath you as you try and remain confident under his abysmal and sinful demeanour.

You were overly aware of the lewd events hurtling toward you and the excitement of it causes your face to flush with colour.

“I’ve never fucked a girl in heels before… I think you should keep them on.” He prowls toward you, his body language animalistic and focused.

He’s been wanting to pounce on you from the moment you stepped foot through the door— but Eddie is a gentleman and gentlemen take their time.

Eddie was in front of you now. His eyes such a deep shade of chocolate brown that they seemed to swallow the light rather than reflect it. They were adorned by long dark eyelashes that you were envious of and strong clean eyebrows that framed the chiselled structure of his face. He looked like a painting. Like he wasn’t real.

“I… I can keep them on.” Your face tilts toward your feet as you try to remind yourself of the appearance of the shoes that you chose to wear that day however Eddie is quick to tensely grab you by the flesh of your cheeks and snatch your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me.” His voice is a hushed purr as his nose teeters on the edge of brushing yours, “I wanna see your pretty face.”

His grip remains tight and it forces your lips into a cute pout which Eddie coos at, “I wanna kiss you. Is that okay?” You nod your head feverishly. Without wasting a single second your lips finally met, tinged with impatience. His lips were magnificent, full and defined and soft. His tongue tastes of alcohol and mint and you moan at the contact of his wet tongue wrestling against yours. His teeth nip at your bottom lip and your eyes are lidded as your fingers touch the exposed skin of his shoulders with a feathery graze; causing goosebumps to arise on Eddie’s inked skin.

“I need to know that you want this…” He breathes heavy laboured breaths, “That you want me to take control. I like it rough, baby, so we need to have a safe word… okay? Safe word is Cherries. You got that?” His domineering mask slips for a quarter of a moment as his black hues sweeten. You nod again, your mind clouded with lust and desperation.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“Cherries is the safe word.”

“Clever girl.” Without a beat Eddie is dragging you up and onto your feet. You are wobbly on your legs for a moment but you are fast to regain composure. As Eddie goes to lead you through to his bedroom you stop, your body set alight.

“Eddie can I… can I taste you first?” You are a blushing mess as the words drool from your lips. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it since you seen him man spreading in front of you in his armchair earlier. You wanted to dip down between his thighs and make his cock twitch with need, “Please.”

The metal head looked bewildered for a moment however he quickly welcomed the request. How could he possibly deny such a sweet girl when she asked him so politely?

He walks the both of you over to the comfortable chair, sitting himself down and allowing his hands to have free roam of your ass and hips, “Ask me as nicely as that and I’d give you anything you want, princess.” The pet name was now tainted with naughty intention as it rolled off of his slick tongue and your knees weaken at the sight of him gazing up at you.

It was nice to be able to study a man features without any shame or embarrassment. You were so used to stealing glances at attractive men but the visual feast sitting in front of you was enjoyed without any guilt.

You offer Eddie an intoxicated smile as his eyes venture over your face, your neck, your breasts and your exposed legs. You weren’t worried about the way your body looked— there was something so calming about Eddie that struck a match of confidence within you and he seemed to like what he was looking at.

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” He rips down your skirt from around your waist, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you stood in the pile of bunched fabric. His hands work quickly on your blouse and Eddie growls at the sight of you. Nothing to you but your matching lace underwear set and your heels.

Your nipples peak at the change of temperature in the room and the sly man pinches them with the tips of his slender fingers, rolling the buds mercilessly and smirking devilishly as he does. The action causes a soft whine to emit from your throat and Eddie’s lips perk into a grin at the sound. He was obsessed with you.

“Kneel.”

And you do. The bones of your knees meet the floor with a pathetic thud and Eddie smooths the palm of his hand across the softness of your hair; enticing you that he will be gentle at first but he yanks the strands seconds later, causing you to yelp.

“Open up. I wanna see if I’ll fit.”

Bracing yourself with your hands on his jean clad knees you unhinge your jaw, opening wide as Eddie slots two of his fingers onto your tongue and they slide deep in the crevasse of your mouth. They tickle the back of your throat and your thighs clench together at the thought of him fucking of your face.

“It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I’m sure you can handle it. Right, hon?”

“Yes. I can take it. Please…” You babble around his digits.

There you are again with your manners and your begging bambi eyes. It awakens something within Eddie— something that had been sitting dormant but has now stirred from its slumber. A darkness. A line he had never crossed but he was so close to it now. He wanted to own you. He wanted you to belong to him… to be his and only his.

“Go on then, baby. He’s waiting.” He winks at you and your adrenaline shaken hands find the zipper of his jeans. Eddie’s thick bulge strains against the stiff denim and you chew on your bottom lip furiously as his long and full shaft springs from his boxer briefs.

Your mouth salivates at the sight and you look to him for permission, which Eddie gives, before you are popping his throbbing tip into the hot cave of your mouth. A vibration travels down Eddie’s cock and reaches his balls as you moan around him. He felt so good— so natural to have him in your mouth. Like sucking on your favourite treat.

“Fuck— that feels so good.” Dark curls spill onto the back cushion of the chair and Eddie’s hands fist your hair into a ponytail, guiding your slobbering mouth up and down the length of his aching cock.

Your mind was blank of anything except for Eddie’s body and the way he felt inside of you. He hadn’t even penetrated you yet and your panties were dampening with slick more and more with every passing bob of your head.

“Shit—“ Eddie seethes through clenched teeth, his hips rocking up to meet your sloppy movements and he punctuates each thrust with a rewarding moan. “I need to feel you.” It was abrupt, the way he ripped your mouth away from him— but you understood. You needed to feel him too. You hadn’t felt this desperate for anyone before; this sultry and seductive. This needy and submissive. You didn’t want this night to end.

You cant contain the soft pants that leave your throat, a mixture of excitement and arousal as you climbed onto straddle Eddie’s thighs. His body felt hard and masculine beneath your touch and you shivered at the way he laid a harsh spank to the meaty flesh of your ass.

“As innocent as you look, you really are just a dirty little slut, huh?” He slaps you again, this time harder than the last and you nearly collapse against his chest. Eddie laughs mockingly, forcing you to sit upright as his fingers plunge down into the soaking fabric of your panties.

You gasp, your already primed body becoming slippier as his fingers thrust softly into you— testing the waters.

“Such a wet pussy, all for me…” His fingers twitch inside of you and you release a sound which can only be described as a moan combined with a helpless whine. With his free hand Eddie rips your breasts from the confines of your bra, allowing the skin to spill free.

His tongue bathed your breast while he used his teeth, giving you peppered bites that shot pleasure through your body like a lightning bolt. He drew your coiled nipple into his mouth and he let his teeth roughly drag over the tip. You moaned loudly. He leaves your breast and looks up into your face.

“Tell me how badly you want my cock.” His voice is a clipped and cool demand.

“I want you to fill me up so bad. I need it, Eddie. Please… fuck, I want it more than anything.” Your hips grind against his fingers and your words must’ve struck Eddie in a pleasant way because before your brain has any time to catch up to his ever changing movements, his fingers are pulling your panties off to one side and his cock is teasing and toying with your dripping hole.

The eye contact between the pair of you was intense as Eddie’s entire length slowly slid inside of you. Your breathing catches in your throat at the stretch of him. Before long, Eddie settles inside of you and your eyes remain shackled to one another. Sex with a stranger shouldn’t be this intimate— so you screw your eyes shut.

Big mistake.

“Open your fucking eyes,” He snarls, his hand grabbing your throat harshly as he pulls your body down toward his, “I want you to watch me as I fuck you.” Your eyelids snap open and Eddie’s features are slack but intimidating as he looks at you. The feeling of being brutally and totally full was almost too much for you to stand. Too much for you to handle. He pulls back from you and begins to thrust.

“Wait—“ You plead and your hands find Eddie’s chest as you support yourself on top of him, “I just need a moment to adjust… you’re so big.” You squirm at the pulsing of your walls around Eddie’s shaft and he grins egotistically up at you.

“Perfect thing to say.”

He repositions his grip onto the back of your thighs, slowly readjusting himself beneath you and easing himself in and out.

“Okay,” you breathe with a soft nod, “You can fuck me now.”

Eddie sensed that your body was ready for his size and he then started to brutishly slam his body into yours. Unbelievably erotic sounds hit your ears as you feel and hear his hips slapping against yours. Sticky skin meeting sticky skin.

“Feels like someone is fisting my dick.”

“Wettest little pussy I’ve ever fucked, yknow that?”

“Shit, I could cum from just the sight of you.”

“Listen to that, baby. You hear how much your pussy is loving my cock?”

“Keep those stunning fucking eyes on me.”

Eddie’s deep grunts and moans mixed with his dirty commentary only heightened the erotica. You’re gentle to take his hand into yours, timidly welcoming two of his fingers back into your mouth as you bound up and down to meet the crack of his hips against yours. Eddie’s eyes gloss over from the view of you above him and his thrusts get snappier and more intentional. Harsher. Quicker. Deeper.

As his cock fucks your sweet hole, his fingers are busy fucking your mouth as well. He took note of how much you liked to have him in your mouth— no matter what part of his body that may be. Eddie got an inkling that this would be the first of many nights together. And he wasn’t mad at the idea— he was actually thrilled by it. It spurred him on.

“Rub your clit for me, sweet girl.” It was as if you were in a trance and the only thing you were able to do was obey Eddie’s every beckon and call. Your finger tips find your sensitive bundle of nerves and you sigh out in complete bliss at the euphoria that shocks up every vertebrae of your spine.

“That’s it, baby. I want you to cum so fucking hard. I’m getting so close— want you to cream all over my cock.”

The speed in which your fingers circled your clit increases and your eyes fight to stay open. You could feel the desperation punctuated in every one of Eddie’s quickened thrusts and you feel that familiar build coming to build in your tummy.

“Fuck— I’m gonna cum. Keep rubbing that clit, baby. You’re being such a good girl for me.” His tired pants fill the air and your mind whizzes and bubbles as you whine out loudly.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, of fuck!” Your mouth gapes open wide, mirroring the sweaty sex symbol below you and your eyes widen as your orgasm floods your every cell. Shaking your body from head to toe. You feel Eddie’s cock swell inside of you— causing your high to continue

“Shit!!” A yell breaks past Eddie’s swollen lips as his orgasm hits. You watch as his face contours as he cums inside of you. His eyes squint shut and his mouth is pulled into a grimace. The veins on his forearms bulk and tense. It was the sexiest thing you had ever fucking seen.

Your heart paced rabidly in your chest as you both breathed heavily, trying to control the heaving of your chests as you both came down. You’re relying on Eddie’s body to keep you from collapsing and Eddie is wise to this. His strong arms wrap around your body as he pulls himself out of you, bringing you to rest on his chest.

Too tired and sated to do anything else, you press yourself against Eddie’s bare and empty sack, grinding lightly down onto the tender flesh of his balls and the noise that leaves Eddie’s throat is indescribable.

You shoot up to look at him and it’s now your turn to smirk and it’s Eddie’s turn to flush a shade of bright red.

“Ignore that.” He coughs to clear his oesophagus, followed by a light hearted chuckle as you come to lay back against his limp body and a knowingness fills your mind.

This wasn’t just going to be a one night stand… and this wasn’t the last time you were going to be laying on top of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.

This was just the sweaty, sexy beginning.

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bueckers · 5 months ago

Text

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁

a/n | heavily inspired by that clip of caitlin & gabbie LOL. kind of a blurb

summary: paige gets caught looking at you a certain way on camera while you’re practically fuming during a game.

warning(s): just sexual tension & out of pocket comments, suggestive

pairing: paige bueckers x teammate!reader

The game against NC State was remarkably close, an unexpected challenge for only the second game of the season. As the third quarter dwindled to its final minutes, a sense of frustration began to set in. You found yourself doing everything in your power to gain composure.

The same girl had been targeting you all night, her aggressive play becoming increasingly blatant as the game progressed. Your patience was wearing thin, and when she charged at you once again, a surge of anger propelled you forward, ready to confront her. However, before you could react, Paige, Aubrey, and Ines intervened, stepping in to hold you back before you did something you’d regret.

Geno had benched you, which only added more fuel to the fire. When the other team called a timeout, the rest of the team was sent to the benches, but Paige was quick to run over to you. As soon as the whistle blew, you got out of my seat and jogged over to the referee, determined to explain that he had made the wrong call. He had been the entire game. Your frustration, however, got the better of you, and your words came out heated. The referee was clearly unimpressed with your complaints and wasn’t budging.

Paige stepped in front of you, concluding your one-sided heated conversation with the referee. She grabbed your arm with one hand and placed the other on your lower back to guide you away. “C’mere,” she mumbled, steering you back to the bench. You sat down, a little calmer than before but still huffing and puffing that you hadn’t gotten to say everything you wanted to.

Paige sat next to you, her entire body turned in your direction as she nearly fell off the seat. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and she knew exactly what to do to get you to calm down. “Talk to me,” she threw out huskily, knowing you had to actually get what you had to say out before resting. You were already on it.

“That girl has been all over me all night,” you began, words tumbling out in a rush. “Do you know how many fouls I’ve been cheated out of? It’s like she’s got it out for me. And the refs are fucking blind to it—this is bullshit..”

As you rambled on, Paige couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. She was perplexed at how you could look so good even while angry. Her eyes darted between yours and your lips the entire time, her lips slightly parted. Though you were loud, she barely heard a word, her ears blocking out all of the trash talk you let flow. Paige was captivated, caught between her desire to comfort you with reassuring words and letting you take her in the locker room after the game, which seemed to intensify with every fiery word you spoke.

Her head rested in one of her hands, and just as you finished speaking you turned to her, catching her lingering gaze on your lips. This out of all things made you crack a smile. “Paige,” you snapped her out of her short daze, her eyes averting back to yours.

“Yeah?” she mumbled, sitting up straighter now as she reached her hands behind her head to adjust her ponytail.

Your eyes followed her without your head moving for a moment, your smile only growing bigger as you realized why she was staring at you that way. “What?” she questioned, her smile being heard through it, faking her oblivion as she looked at you.

“You’re so fucking horny, bro.” you shook your head, smiling bright at her as she threw her head back, laughing, but she didn’t disagree. What you didn’t know, was that your interaction was caught on camera being televised—and of course screen recorded.

user1. lip readers get on this 😭

user2. Paige is down bad CONFIRMED

user3. The way she’s looking at her omg I physically can’t

user4. PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS!?!?

user5. are they dating?

user6. No

user7. I hope so

user8. nooo way this is real LMFAOOO

user9. her eyes shifting between her lips and eyes ohhh she’s so down bad

user10. FRIENDS DON’T LOOK AT FRIENDS THAT WAY!?!?

user11. wouldn’t be surprised if they’re fucking

user12. these comments are crazy as hell 😭

#paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #lgbtq #uconn wbb #uconn huskies

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call-sign-shark · 10 months ago

Text

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky blinders imagine #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby smut #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #peaky blinders x y/n

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beyscape · 4 months ago

Text

pillow talk

Aemond Tagaryen x reader

Summary: Aemond's wife is upset when Prince Regent does not pay attention to her, so she takes the matters into her own hands.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Mostly fluff with some mild suggestive content, just something quick!! Requests are open for more Aemond��we can never have too much of Aemond, tbh.

“Are you too busy for your wife, my Prince? Or shall I say Prince Regent?” You raised an eyebrow at Aemond, the slight smirk on your lips not quite reaching your eyes.

“I must finish reading this, wife.” Aemond did not look up from the papers he was bent over, not even deigning to answer your teasing.

You rounded the bed with a disappointed hum, taking in the figure of your husband; he had already shrugged off his leathers he was fond of wearing during the day, his sword and daggers discarded around the room. Now remaining in his linen breeches and shirt, he had even thrown off his eyepatch in an annoyed huff; beneath his furrowed brows, the sapphire gleamed in the candlelight that illuminated your chambers.

Careful to not disturb the papers strewn on the bed, you sat down next to him, head tilted to the side. “Urgent matters?” You asked, though you had a feeling that you knew the answer.

Being named Prince Regent had placed a great burden on his shoulders—those very same shoulders that were now tense as Aemond bent over the papers, the very same shoulders you loved to run your fingernails over as he made love to you.

Your husband only hummed in response. You tried not to feel hurt—you understood it, after all; how much he had waited for this moment, to finally be in charge, to finally have power over the way the Realm was ruled, and yet…

And yet.

You still felt hurt by the way his attention had shifted off of you completely—even when he shared your bed at night it was to spend couple hours in fitful sleep, he would come to the bed long after you had already fallen asleep and would often be already awake and busy with his duties long before the sunlight would break through the windows.

“Aemond…” You sighed, lips pursed in annoyance. “Have your duties not disrupted our lives enough? Must they join us in bed also?”

“Just a moment more,” His low voice trailed off, his focus on the papers unbroken; it was all-too-clear that your words had not even registered with the Prince Regent.

You looked at him for another moment, watching the way his jaw tensed and the way his eye trailed the words of some war report or another from the Realm. He was bent over the documents, his long, unbound hair falling off of his shoulder like a silky curtain.

“Fine, then.” A huff escaped your lips. “I am going to bed.” You blew off the candle by your bedside before laying down, your irritation with your husband growing rapidly as he still did not grace you with a single word or look of acknowledgement.

You laid there for a moment, listening to the crackling of the fire and the occasional shifting of papers.Any other night the sounds, accompanied by the deep, steady breathing of Aemond, would have lulled you to sleep—but not this time. Not this night, certainly not after having been all but ignored by your husband for days on end.

Unable to stand the silence and Aemond’s treatment of you any longer, you knew you had to do something, anything to finally snap him out of his deep focus. Quietly, your hand trailed to Aemond’s side of the bed, your fingers gripping the edge of his pillow. You held your breath for a moment, a silent debate ongoing within you, trying to estimate his potential anger and your chances of finally getting some quality time with your husband.

Your desire for the latter greatly exceeded your fear of the former—so you did what you had to do. You smacked Aemond’s tense shoulders with his pillow.

Aemond’s hands stilled as a moment stretched between the two of you. His head turned towards you ever-so-slightly, brows still furrowed. “Did you just… hit me? With a pillow?” He asked, incredulous.

You shrugged at him. “Whatever else was a displeased wife to do? Seemed like the tamest of the options I considered.” You raised an eyebrow, a gesture of a slight challenge.

Aemond let the paper clutched in his hands fall back onto the bed, blending in with the rest of the documents. In a flash his slender hand was wrapped around your ankle, you let out a shriek as Aemond pulled you towards himself; suddenly the previously monumental duties were forgotten as his hands travelled the length of your body rapidly, teasing and tickling at every turn and moment.

A wicked glint was in his eye as he rendered you a breathless mess—laughter came out of your lips in gasps as you tried to hold onto his arms in a vain attempt to stop him. “Aemond—I,” you breathed, “Stop, I’m sorry, stop!”

Accepting your retreat Aemond stopped, pinning your hands above your head, a slight smirk still playing on his lips. “You cheeky, insolent thing,” he chastised, leaning in as he hovered over your figure on the bed. “However shall you pay for this, wife?”

“I think I already have,” your chest heaved beneath him, still smiling as you tried to catch your breath.

He looked at you for a moment, his eye tracing your face with a careful look—one that was hungry to take in every little breath you take, every little expression on your face. His smirk faded, leaving its place to a look that seemed…apologetic, almost.

It was such an unfamiliar look on the handsome face of your husband, it sent a sudden pang of ache through you. You tilted your head a little to the side, taking in his pensive expression, the way you could practically see him process his thoughts and figure out the best way to express them. Such an intimate knowledge this was—to know Aemond so well was a privilege no one else had… Not a single soul in the Realm but you.

“I suppose,” He began, tentatively. “I suppose I have not had much time for you, as of late.” His thumb rubbed the skin of your pinned up wrist; it was still unbelievable, how the smallest of Aemond’s touches managed to affect you so monumentally.

“Any time, more like,” You offered with a pout, his gaze immediately falling to your lips.

He hummed, a low and guttural sound—his sombre air tinged with desire set a flame burning in the pit of your stomach. “Then I am the one who should make it up to you.”

Aemond’s head dipped down, pressing a long kiss to your lips. He let go of your pinned wrists in favour of his hand cupping your cheek, his other hand running down your side to tighten on your waist. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, his weight pressing down on you. One of your hands sneaked into his hair while the other wrapped around his shoulder—you held onto him as though if you let go, the world would shift from underneath you.

He pulled back slightly, reluctantly, to inhale, his eye never leaving your face. “Are you truly displeased with me?” He asked, his voice tainted with a vulnerable insecurity that never surfaced outside of the confines of your chambers.

“Aemond,” you sighed, raising your face to press a kiss to his jaw, then to the corner of his mouth. His eyes fluttered close at the contact, your name tumbled out of his lips as a plea, as a prayer. “I have missed you is all. I am not vexed with you.”

He looked into your eyes deeply, looking for any signs of insincerity or deception; he nodded once, twice, when he only found unwavering affection. Aemond dipped down to kiss you again and again, the first one being heart-achingly tender.

“There was…” You said in between kisses, “a matter of making it up to me?”

“Indeed,” His kisses trailed down your skin, his lips finding the spot connecting your neck to your shoulder. “I am in your service, dear wife.”

Your head tilted back almost instinctively, overcome with the desire to give him more access to you—to give him everything and anything he asked for.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed as his kisses continued to trail down, his gravelly voice reverberating against your skin.

“You,” a small gasp escaped your lips as his hand caressed the length of your leg, travelling up, up, up until he reached his destination and squeezed in triumph. “No more teasing. I just want you.”

Aemond pulled back with a satisfied little smirk that widened when you whined at the absence of his touch and his kisses. “As my dear wife wishes.”

He looked down at your figure sprawled on the bed with a distinct hunger in his eye—like his appetite would never be sated, no matter how much he devoured you, like he would never be able to get enough of you.

As he took off his white shirt, revealing the toned slender figure beneath, you knew one thing: Prince Aemond was going to take his sweet time giving you all the attention you desired and demanded from him—that is, at least, until the morning rays brought back to the mind the weight of duty and Crown alike, until your new reality returned.

You pulled Aemond down for another kiss, letting the taste of his lips ground you to the moment—you felt aflame, your skin flush and fingers tingling with longing to touch, to feel, to hold. It was magic; it was a blessing, a curse—to want someone so much, to be rendered half-mad with just a look, a touch, a gasp.

Damn duty and the Crown, you thought hazily as Aemond pressed a kiss to the spot above your heart—they could wait their turn. In this moment, Aemond was all yours, unburdened by the troubles of ruling the Realm, by the waging war.

In this moment, Aemond was all yours—and you would cherish every second of it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #ewan mitchell

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yawnderu · 7 months ago

Text

ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley

WC: 6,048 | Part I

Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.

His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.

He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.

Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.

“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.

“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.

“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.

“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.

“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.

“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.

“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.

“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.

“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.

“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.

Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.

“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.

“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.

“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.

“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.

“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.

“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.

“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.

“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.

“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.

“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.

“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.

“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.

“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.

“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.

“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.

Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.

“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.

He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.

“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.

His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.

“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.

“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.

His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.

John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.

He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.

“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.

“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.

“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.

Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.

“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.

“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.

“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.

“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.

As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.

The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.

“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.

“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.

Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.

“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.

“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.

“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.

“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.

“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.

“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.

“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.

“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.

“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.

“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.

“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.

“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.

“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.

“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.

“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.

“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.

“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.

“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.

“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.

It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.

Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.

“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.

“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.

You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves�� he knows you don't mind either.

You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.

“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.

“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.

“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.

“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.

He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.

They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.

You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.

“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.

“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.

Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.

He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.

“Show him how you much you missed him.” John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.

Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.

You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.

“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.

“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.

“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.

You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.

You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.

Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.

The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.

They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.

“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.

“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.

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abyssruler · 1 year ago

Text

furina’s guide on the art of matchmaking

neuvillette x gn!reader

it’s no secret that furina is constantly bored of the mundanity that comes with court, but with the recent discovery of neuvillette’s crush on you, things have just gotten a lot more interesting. if only you and neuvillette would just get together, but alas, it comes down to the great hydro archon to bring justice to neuvillette’s sad, pathetic love life.

furina pov, comedy, furina being dramatic as hell

Furina knows the best way to get under Neuvillette’s skin is through you. The Iudex may seem impassive from the outside, but she knows where to look for his tells, particularly when he’s annoyed (she has, after all, been the recipient to silently judging stares, usually those of a disappointed or even irritated nature).

And she’s seen the way Neuvillette looks at you—his face softening, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, and most damningly of all, the slightest hint of a blush whenever you stare into his eyes a little too long to be considered proper.

It’s all so entertaining to watch, if a bit miffing to endure seeing how utterly slow the two of you are. If Furina had been in Neuvillette’s shoes, she would have long since enacted a performance grander than anything Fontaine has ever seen and asked you out on a date. Not just any date though, no, she would have to pull an all-nighter to come up with the best date there is. One does not simply go on a date with the God of Justice and have it be mediocre.

But all that aside, with how boring Neuvillette is with his stricter than strict rules and views on how one must go about their day, it falls upon her to make sure he doesn’t die as a decrepit old bachelor who’s never felt the touch of another person intimately. (Not that Furina had any say on the topic of intimacy, seeing as she’s never had any experience in the romantic aspects of life, but experience means nothing compared to the wisdom of the God of Justice!)

So, after many nights spent huddled beneath her blankets, scribbling on her notebook and brainstorming the best way to get a rise out of Neuvillette, she happened upon a breakthrough. An idea so great it would not only be something worthy of the Steambird’s headlines, but also be something the people of Fonatine would speak of for years to come.

Yes, it all comes down to this very moment, standing over the highest place in the opera with hundreds of eyes watching her as she points an accusing finger at your figure standing on the very stage she’s set up.

Neuvillette watches it all with his eyes narrowed at her, hands clasped tightly around his cane, and Furina would have loved to relish in that reaction, but alas, she must continue with her script.

With a haughty smile, she meets your eyes as she yells out loud to her captivated audience.

“I charge you, (Y/N), with the crime of theft!”

The people below gasp in shock at the sudden accusation. Only natural, of course. You, an esteemed person of reputable background who most people view as a kind person, being charged with theft? How scandalous!

But that’s not all!

“You stand accused of thievery,” Furina pauses for a dramatic effect, feeling the spectators hold their breaths as they await her final verdict.

She then looks up at Neuvillette, and it takes all she has in her not to burst in hysterics at the comically pinched face he’s sporting. She moves her finger from you to Neuvillette, practically preening in place as the assembled crowd below let out varying expressions of shock.

And with a smug smile, she deals the final blow.

“For stealing the Chief Justice of Fontaine’s heart!”

One, two, three—

Screams erupt from below. Women squealing in delight while the men cheer at the sudden twist from accusation to romance.

Furina basks in the attention as the people sing praises of her.

“Of course, how could not I have seen it before?”

“Lady Furina is so sharp to have caught on!”

“Monsieur Neuvillette and (Y/N) do make a good pair, don’t they?”

“How ingenious! As expected of our Lady Furina!”

But then, Neuvillette stands, a stern look on his face as he taps his cane on the ground hard enough to rattle her eardrums.

“Order!”

His face could have been made from stone with how hard he’s looking at her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead on the spot. Yikes! Perhaps it’s time to make a swift escape…

“Lady Furina, might I remind you that charges and accusations are not to be made lightly within the court. To abuse your position in order to make a ridiculous statement. I…”

With every word that leaves his mouth, Furina slowly begins to feel that perhaps she’d been too hasty in thinking that all would turn out well. And oh, maybe she should have thought up of scenarios and what-to-dos after she finished performing her grand plan, but in her defense, she’d been too excited at the prospect of finally pushing you two together that it completely slipped her mind!

Is it too late to claim it was all an elaborate performance not meant to be taken seriously?

Neuvillette stares thunderously up at her.

She’ll take that as a no, then.

Just when all hope seemed to have been lost, a savior comes in the form of you raising your hand.

Neuvillette immediately stops speaking in favor of addressing you.

“Would the accused like to defend their innocence?”

You take a deep breath, gaze briefly flitting to Furina’s before meeting Neuvillette’s. And even without much prompt, from that single glance alone, she knew she was about to witness something extremely entertaining.

“I… I would like to press charges as well,” you say evenly, and for a second, Furina’s heart drops as she thinks you’re about to charge her for false accusations and perhaps even slander, (the first time in history that anyone has charged the God of Justice for a crime!) but then, you continue—

“I would like to press charges against you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for stealing my heart too.”

Your statement is followed by a stunned silence that only lasts for a brief moment, before it’s overcome by exclamations and whoops at the sudden turn of events.

Furina falls back on her seat and howls with laughter as she watches Neuvillette be struck speechless, red creeping up his cheeks as your statement echoes across the cavernous hall. She reminds herself to gift you something extravagant for saving her at the very last moment.

Ah, what a delightful way to end the show.

She watches you direct a besotted smile towards Neuvillette. Another day, another poor sod saved from the horrors of a nonexistent love life.

Furina mentally pats herself on the back for a job well done.

#furina: another day another slay #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin neuvillette x reader #gn reader #furina #focalors

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vanteguccir · 4 months ago

Note

i can’t stop thinking about when matt has been gone for a while and ur too tight and he gets frustrated because he keeps slipping out 😣

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb where Matt's cock keeps slipping out of you after he was away for too long

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

Matt had been gone for three long weeks, traveling with his brothers, and every day without him had felt like an eternity for Y/N. The moment he walked through the bedroom door, the air between them was charged with unspoken desire. They barely managed to exchange a few words before they were all over each other, lips crashing together with full force.

Matt's hands roamed over Y/N's body, relearning every curve, every dip that he had missed so much. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could never get enough of him. They stumbled towards the bed, shedding clothes along the way.

By the time they reached it, Y/N was breathless, her body trembling with anticipation. Matt's eyes were dark with lust as he looked down at her, his chest heaving. He took a moment to just drink her in, the sight of her lying there, waiting for him, driving him wild. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that mirrored her own.

Matt's hands were everywhere, caressing, squeezing, and teasing, eliciting soft moans from Y/N's lips. He kissed his way down her neck, over her collarbone, and to her tits, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking gently before giving the same attention to the other. Y/N arched her back, pressing herself against him, desperate for more.

When Matt finally positioned himself between her legs, Y/N was already wet and ready for him, her body aching with need. He took his time, teasing her folds with the head of his cock, spreading her arousal over himself.

She whimpered, her hips bucking, wanting more. But as he began to push inside her, he found it difficult. She was so tight, her body not having had him for so long that he could barely get the head in.

"God, babe." He groaned, his voice rough with need. "You're so tight... I can't..." He tried again, pushing slowly, savoring the way her body enveloped him, but just as he felt the head slip inside, it popped back out.

The sensation was maddening for both of them. The brief moment of penetration sent jolts of pleasure through Matt, making his breath hitch, and his grip on her thighs tighten. For Y/N, the feeling of being stretched, even momentarily, was electrifying. But each time he slipped out, it left them both on the edge, the pleasure cut short.

"Fucking hell, angel. How could you even become this tight? Never been like this since I fucked y' for the first time."

Matt's jaw clenched in frustration. He adjusted his angle, trying to find a way to ease himself in without losing control. He pressed forward again, feeling the delicious resistance as her tightness gave way, the head of his cock slipping just inside her entrance. The sensation was exquisite, her heat and tightness making his whole body shiver. But as he tried to push further, he slipped out again, the sudden loss of contact leaving him groaning in frustration.

Y/N could see the tension in his eyes, the way his muscles strained as he tried to control himself, a moan scaping her lips with the vision, moving her hips.

But Matt's patience was wearing thin. The weeks apart, the constant longing, and now the barrier between them, it was all too much. With a growl of frustration, he tried again, the head slipping in and out, each time sending a shock of pleasure through them both. The sensation was intoxicating, the constant edging driving them both wild with need.

"Look at you." Matt growled, his voice low and harsh. "So tight, can't even take me properly." He pushed in again, only to slip out, and Y/N whimpered at the loss. "Pathetic, huh, angel? Desperate for it, and yet your body can't handle it. Can't handle my cock."

Y/N's breaths came in quick, shallow gasps as she felt him tease her entrance again and again. The brief moments of penetration were enough to send sparks of pleasure through her, making her body tremble. But each time he slipped out, the pleasure was abruptly cut off, leaving her whimpering for more.

Matt's frustration reached its peak. The need to be inside her overwhelmed him. With a growl, he gripped her hips tightly, knowing for sure her skin would be bruised by morning, and thrust forward with force, burying himself inside her in one swift, deep stroke.

Y/N cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure as he filled her completely, her body stretching to accommodate him. The initial pain of his forceful entry sent a shockwave through her, but it was quickly overtaken by a flood of intense pleasure. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her eyes rolling back in her head as she struggled to breathe. The sensation of being so utterly filled, so completely taken, made her stomach flutter wildly.

"Fuck, angel." Matt groaned, his voice thick with desire. "You're so tight, squeezing me so good... It's like you were made for me."

"Oh, Matt..." She moaned, her voice trembling. "So good... so full..."

Matt's eyes locked onto hers, his own breath ragged.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice low and strained, a drop of concern despite his overwhelming need.

Y/N nodded, her body still quivering.

"Yes... don't stop... please..."

Matt didn't need any further encouragement. He began to move, pulling out almost completely before slamming back inside her with a force that made her gasp. Each thrust was hard and deep, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the room.

The combination of pain and pleasure was intoxicating for Y/N. Every time he slammed into her, it sent a jolt of sensation through her entire body, making her toes curl and her fingers dig into his back. Her eyes rolled back in her head again, her vision going white with the intensity of it all. The fluttering in her stomach grew more intense, spreading warmth through her entire core.

Matt's pace was relentless, each thrust harder and more powerful than the last. The pleasure built within Y/N, a tidal wave of sensation that grew stronger with every moment. She could feel her orgasm building, the pressure mounting with every thrust.

"Matt... I'm so close... Fuck." She gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah, angel?" He groaned, his own voice filled with strain. "Hold on... just a little longer..."

Y/N held on as best she could, her body writhing beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. When her orgasm finally crashed over her, it was like nothing she had ever experienced. Her entire body convulsed, her muscles tightening around him, her cry of ecstasy filling the room.

Matt let out a guttural growl as he felt her clench around him, squeezing him completely, his own release crashing over him with a force that left him shaking. He buried himself deep inside her, spilling into her with a final, powerful thrust.

For a moment, they were both still, their bodies pressed together, the only sound their heavy breathing. Then Matt collapsed beside her, pulling her close, their sweaty bodies still tangled together.

"Missed you. So much." He murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

#⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #matt sturniolo x reader blurb #matt sturniolo x reader smut #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #blurb #smut

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bunnys-kisses · 6 months ago

Text

jailbird (3)

prisoner!simon "ghost" riley

the series master-list

cw: (former) prisoner!simon, civilian!reader, smut & fluff, dom!reader, sub!simon, gentle sex, size kink, pregnant!reader, wife kink

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own!

you rubbed your back as you cooked up some breakfast. you then yawned into you fist. it was hard giving up coffee for the sake of your unborn baby, but simon promised that when your son was born, he'd buy you the fanciest coffee at the supermarket.

it had been over a year since simon got out of prison, and now you two were expecting your first child. right now he was the size of an avocado and simon couldn't help but put his hands on the small bump.

"mornin', love." he said as he came up behind you and his hands on the bump. his hair was a mess and his large tattoos hands were on your hips, "bacon for me?"

"it's turkey bacon. less fat." you reminded him.

he grumbled, "not as good." then leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, "how did you sleep." his hands linked under your bump as he held it gently.

you flipped the bacon and focused your attention on the eggs in another pan. you felt a shift of your child in your womb, "it was alright. i think i'm getting used to your snoring."

he kissed you again and grumbled, "i'm sorry."

you chuckled, "I don't mind. either you've gotten quieter or i'm just used to it." you tilted your head up and kissed him on the lips briefly, "if you can get the toast ready that would be great."

"anythin' for ya." he said as he pulled away and went to make some toast for the both of you. it was domestic, it was quiet. a woman and her much larger, tattooed ex-convict of a boyfriend.

simon called you his wife often, despite never actually being married. you didn't mind it. you shared a home were building a family, but you often wondered if you would ever get married. you were never keen on a huge celebration, but something would be nice. regardless you were his missus.

regardless of your pregnant size, he handled you with ease. there were times where he'd simply guide your hips as you rode him. he was he one in control. you held onto him and moaned as you felt his cock press up into you.

"beautiful wife." he smirked as he kissed your face.

you wondered if it was possible for to control the pace. to have your boyfriend give up control and let you work his body? while your bdsm together was short lived, he stopped any rough play when you announced you were pregnant, you wondered if the roles could be reversed? the tiny girlfriend in control of her beefy, scary boyfriend.

it was a rather arousing thought. to watch simon squirm while you made sure he was taken care of. it didn't have to be vicious or rough, which would make simon happy (for your sake), but tender and slow. you rubbed your thighs together while seated at your work desk, you had to focus on work! not on your boyfriend's cock inside of you.

you leaned back in your desk chair and rubbed your swollen middle as you gazed at the spreadsheet you had been working on. simon gave you the gift of your first born child, you believed it was time to repay him for it.

"simon." you said as you were curled up with him on the couch. simon's head was in your lap and his legs were hanging off the couch. you were running your fingers through his short blond hair.

"yeah, love." he said.

"i want to ask you about something."

he lifted his head and looked at you, he looked at your curiously. for a brief moment he was worried that he had done something wrong. but a closer study of your face revealed that you weren't upset with him, which settled him down. he simply said with a kiss on your bump, "ask away."

"i was wondering, if maybe... i can take charge when we have sex? just for tonight. i know you like being in charge, but i thought it could spice things up with anything too intense."

he said gruffly, "i don't want ya puttin' strain on yourself." as his broad hand rubbed your middle, "worried you'll get tired out."

you reached down and cupped his face, "well, then if i get tired then you can take over... it wouldn't hurt to try." you smiled, "i think it'll be fun."

simon learned very early on that he could never say no to his girl. he simply pressed his cheek back on your bump and rubbed it. he said, "alright, but don't push yourself too hard."

he lingered closely during dinner, his hands on your hips as he watched you make dinner. he was in charge of chopping vegetables, but when he wasn't, his hands were on you. he wanted to be close to his wife.

even though very few thought of him as a gentleman, the way he sat you down on the couch after dinner so he could wash the dishes of your dinner left you feeling pink.

when he came back to you however, he held out his hand. you took it and he helped you up off the couch. he stared down at you for a moment and you reached out for him. you framed his face in your hands and leaned up to kiss him.

"i'm fine."

once in the bedroom, he marveled at your body as you started to undress. he shirt was already off as he sat at the edge of the bed, ready to help you if you needed it. but you shooed his hands away. he admired the slope of your pregnant belly and the heaviness of your breasts. you had a figure his admired, a lil pregnancy fat to keep you and the babe warm.

"you're staring."

"can't i?" he asked, "i made you this way. my girl carryin' my kid. i think you look hotter now than before." he smiled.

you gave him a look as you got your underwear off, you stood there in front of him, naked with your hands at your hips. you said, "so you're into milfs?"

he shrugged, "only when i'm the ones who 'em a mama." he reached out for you and you went into his arms. he pressed his face against your bump and sighed, his cock twitched in his pants.

you petted his soft hair and felt him place kisses against your swollen middle. he had taken to being a father the way a fish takes to swimming. after a little worship to your belly, you nudged him at his shoulders.

"lie down."

he looked up at you and laid down. he watched you work as you got his pants and underwear off. his cock stood at full attention and you could already feel the heft of it inside of you. it made your stomach flutter.

there laid your convict boyfriend, the man who was in prison for some time. he was laid out on the bed you shared while you tried to straddle his waist. he made you his girl, and you made him a better man.

"gonna be comfy like that?"

"this is about you, simon." you tapped his nose, "the goal is to make you cum." then trailed your finger down his neck and across his chest that was littered with tattoos.

he held onto your hand and placed it on his cheek, "i know... but i still want you to have a good time, love." he kissed your wrist before he placed both hands on your hips.

"hey!" you smacked his hand away, "my job."

"sorry." he said softly. he was a hardened man, he often scared people. but with you, he was so supportive and loving. he adored you the way plants adored the sun.

he watched you with careful eyes, they felt heated on your warm flesh as you tried to move yourself (with the bump not helping). it took everything in him not to do it himself. but he had to trust you.

you slowly sank on his cock and pressed your chin to your chest as you exhaled deeply. you noticed that simon was holding onto the covers tighter. you said softly, "trust me."

"yes, love." he said softly, he tensed up when you started to roll your hips. you hand one hand on his chest for leverage and the other on your swollen middle as you moved your hips against him.,

"holy shit, love." he groaned.

"see, a wife knows how to please her husband." you replied before you smacked his hands away from you, "no. stay still." there was a bit of a command to your tone.

he liked it.

he continued to hold the sheets as you moved up and down on his length. his breathing got heavy as you started to really put work into riding his cock. he watched your breasts and belly bounce like a hypnotized man.

he made you this way. he never thought when he was in prison that he'd have a woman in his life that was carrying his child. he watched to reach out and worship your bump. but for the time being he'd just have to play the thoughts over in his head.

part of him wondered if he was still a bad man. maybe there should've been more time between when you met in person and your pregnancy. but you were happy. happy with him, of your situation.

he tried to move but you kept him pinned by the shoulders. you were without words as you rode him, all you could do was shake your head. he groaned and leaned back into the bed.

"please, love. let me touch you. i want to touch my wife." he was almost begging.

you pushed hair out of your hair and looked down at him. your hands were on his shoulders to give yourself more leverage. you moaned, "okay... but be good."

quickly his hands were on your hips and he rubbed your love handles. you felt so good under his touch, it made his brain buzz. what the hell did he do to deserve an angel such as yourself.

"like it, simon?"

he nodded, "you're doing great. my girl." his voice was practically a purr.

you continued to ride him. you felt hot all over but you held onto him. you tried to be sexy about your thrusts. but the burn in your soul to get to climax forced you to bounce on his cock.

simon's eyes were transfixed on your body as it moved. his cock ached, as did his balls. he bred you so good, he didn't know what he did in a previous life to deserve this.

warmth pumped through your bodies as you fucked. it felt so good, and the angle made your core ache. it wasn't long before you felt the curl of orgasm in your gut.

you placed his hands and yours on your bump as you moved on his cock. your moans filled the air of your bedroom. your mind became hazy and your thrusts were disorganized. you came first by holding his hands, your cunt clenched around his cock. and as you continued to ride him until he finished as well.

"shit."

"simon."

he laid sprawled out next to you for a moment to catch his breath. by the time he calmed down, he pulled you into his arms and kissed your face. he could feel your bare belly bump up against his abdomen. he felt relaxed against you.

he said quietly, as he assumed that you were dozing off in the after glow of pleasure, "you'll get your ring soon. just gotta find the right time to pop the question." his voice was a low rumble.

but you were still awake and safe in his arms. when he mentioned a ring your heart skipped a beat. you stayed still for a moment and let him bask in your love. soon you'd be his wife, for real.

the question was, where was the ring? <3

#bunny writes #jailhouse rock au #prison au #call of duty fanfic #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #pregnant reader #pregnant!reader #pregnancy

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feyascorner · 10 months ago

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Please please please I am in desperate need of Astarion comforting Tav.

Like Tav is always comforting everyone else, but there is never anybody to hold their hand when they are scared or hug them when they are sad. Please let them be scared. Let them be sad, let them be vulnerable and let them feel their own emotions.

Tav needs a hug :,)

a/n. no you're so right because I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TAV LOVE!!!!! This ended up a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I expected but I hope that’s okay! :) also this is not proofread pls excuse me for the grammar errors that are definitely in here.

You don’t mind helping others, really. You don’t mind guiding Shadowheart to escaping her evil goddess, you don’t mind finding a way to aid Gale’s ticking time bomb, and you don’t mind spending hours in battle to find a piece of infernal iron for Karlach. It’s natural after all, because they’re your precious companions.

But it’s also made the thought of being something else—the one being comforted—more shameful than anything.

It was just a bad day, honestly. Bits of your life being pricked at with needles. The whole week had been hellish, but today seemed to be bent on finally wiping you clean. A battle going wrong, the lake freezing over and preventing you from taking a bath, the pot of soup you were in charge of burning to cinders—they’re all small, but they add up. And when you find that your favorite pair of gloves are splitting at the seams, it’s your final straw.

You stumble into your tent, barely holding back tears as you close the flap shut behind you, signaling that you wanted to be alone. You collapse into your bedroll, face first as even the blanket beneath you isn’t enough to cushion you against the hard floor.

Gods.

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging your tears to leave. The others have a lot more problems at the moment—ones that wager between life and death—but you can’t help the overwhelming burst of emotions you’ve kept bottled in for weeks now. So many bad things are happening, but there’s no time for you to mourn, because the least you can do is stand beside your companions in their own grief. It forces you to constantly stay alert, keeping your heart open for them but shut closed for yourself.

It’s so, so overwhelming. It almost feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You hadn’t even heard him entering the tent, and immediately your shoulders tense as you shoot up into a sitting position, wiping desperately at your eyes. You know they’re red, but you hope he ignores it. “No, I’m just tired. I’m turning in early for tonight, sorry.”

He stares at you, making his suspicion blatantly obvious to urge you to continue but you don’t, forcing your eyes to the ground. “No need to be sorry, my love. I was just making sure.”

You want to throw yourself into him. To let him hold you as you complain about the more mundane parts of life as well as the feelings wracking the sobs of your chest. To let him soothe you as all you can do is cry.

But you don’t. It’s just not what you do.

“Pity, these pretty things of yours,” he lifts your gloves that had been discarded on the ground with a cock of a brow. “I quite liked them. But…they don’t seem to be at a complete loss yet.”

You finally look at him.

“Why it just needs a bit of stitching and some polish. It’ll look even better than it did before with my handiwork,” he inspects the fabric closely. “Hm, I was finished with fixing Karlach’s shirt anyway, I suppose I could spare some time for your gloves.”

Despite his words, his eyes are gentle as they shift over to you, and it makes your lip quiver.

“I’ll ask again,” he says softly, and you know it’s an effort in vain to resist. “Are you alright?”

Like a river breaking through a dam, you fling yourself into him, tears already slipping down your cheeks as they smear against his shirt. You worry about the snot for a split second, yanking away, but he just pushes your head back to him, sighing with you practically wrapped on top of him.

“You should have told me before things had gotten this bad, my love,” he says, no true judgment laced in his words. If anything, he sounds amused. It makes you cry even harder as you wail loudly into his chest, with his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks eventually after what seems like eternity, and your sobs have calmed to sniffles.

“…not now.”

“Very well,” he laces his fingers with yours, and you tilt your head up just enough to see the fond smile stretching on his lips. “I shall remain here until you’re ready. Until then, I have no quarrels with our current arrangement.”

You mumble against him as he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “…thank you for this.”

“You needed this,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not you, of course, which is why comfort is not my strong suit, as charming as I am. I much prefer blowing off steam in a bloody battle, but this—“ he runs a hand through your hair, gentle enough not to pull at any strands. You resist the need to sigh into the feeling. “—this, I can do as many times as you need.”

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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daycourtofficial · 7 months ago

Text

Wingspan Matters

Summary: based on this request, you, Nesta, and Feyre catch your mates in a pissing contest over their wingspans

Author’s note: silly little crack hehe

Word count: ~1k

You poured yourself another cup of tea as Feyre and Nesta began squabbling over something you really couldn’t bring yourself to care about. You looked out the window, taking in the nice spring weather. A light breeze was flowing through the trees, causing the branches to move in a dance to the wind’s patterns.

You watch as the birds flit by, their song a lament to the end of winter, as if they too were sending their thanks to the Mother for spring to return. It’s the first warm day in months, the first day that your forearms won’t get cold being exposed to the air.

The life around you seems to dance and sing at the joyous return of spring - insects buzz past the windows, their high pitched frequencies a delight to your ears. You don’t let yourself think for too long about how the resurrection of spring will cause Cassian to snore even louder than before.

Perhaps you and Azriel can plan an escape to the Summer Court for a few weeks. Hopefully the distance and the crashing of waves will be enough to block out Cassian’s loud snoring.

You get lost in a daydream of laying on the beach with Azriel, either in the sand or in hammocks, applying a protective balm to his wings. The sun is warm on your skin, the salty spray of the ocean in your hair.

Muffled shouting disturbs both your daydream and whatever quarrel Nesta and Feyre were in the middle of. The three of you open the doors to the balcony, leaning over the railing to find your mates in a circle in a clearing on the property, their tan skin and large, dark wings making them stand out amidst the greenery that surrounds them.

Azriel was standing to the side, looking incredibly smug with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches his two brothers. Cassian has a piece of ribbon that he was holding up to Rhysand’s back. The two kept bickering, over what you couldn’t discern.

Before any of you could question what the two were discussing, Rhysand took the ribbon from Cassian and pushed him off. Cassian landed on the ground, but immediately sprung back up, his hands coming up and shoving Rhysand off the rock he was perched on.

“Looks like the bats are finally measuring themselves,” Nesta muses, bringing her cup to her lips.

You could hear Rhys’s laugh from the balcony as he sprung up, keeping low to the ground as he charged at Cassian, his shoulder hitting Cassian’s hips. He pushed Cassian into the ground, causing Cassian to push his weight upwards so the two of them begin rolling around on the ground, punches and curses being shared to and fro.

Feyre chuckles, “it seems Azriel’s already won.”

Nesta peers back to you over her cup, “I don’t think it’s just Azriel that’s won.”

“Don’t draw yourself up too short, Nes. I think Cassian’s in second place.”

Nesta looks back at you, eyes roaming up and down your frame, “I’m more surprised he hasn’t broken you in half yet.”

Feyre laughs as you reply, “you’d be more surprised if you saw some of the things we do.”

You waggle your eyebrows at Nesta as Feyre continues laughing, but Nesta’s not quick enough to hide her smirk without your notice.

“How long do we wait until we have them measure Feyre’s wings?” you ask.

Feyre thinks for a moment, hand on her chin, “maybe when Azriel gets a little too cocky.”

“Or Rhysand gets too pouty,” Nesta adds.

From across the courtyard, you could see Azriel’s amused smirk as his eyes met yours, a light tug on the bond urging you to keep your gaze on him. You smile, pulling back softly. He raises his eyebrows up and down a few times, and you send some amusement down the bond as you roll your eyes at him.

He stretches his wings out at your attention, making them as large as he can. You’re pretty certain you’ve seen birds do similar things in mating rituals, but the unfortunate thing is seems to actually be working on you.

He looks over to his brothers, still rolling around in the dirt, and gently takes off for a short flight up to the balcony the three of you are on. He lands softly in front of you, his wings creating a small wind, his chest glowing in the sunlight as his hands reach for you, pulling you into him by your hips.

You melt into him, arms going around his waist, your head resting over his heart as he supports your weight with the railing behind him. The warmth from his skin is soothing without being overbearingly hot.

“They make me want to gag,” Nesta tells Feyre, and you move your head so you can see the two pairs of eyes looking back to the two of you. Azriel wraps his wings around you, making you nearly impossible to see if it weren’t for your feet. You can hear the smile on Nesta’s face at her words, though.

You weasel an opening between Azriel’s arms so you can make eye contact with Nesta as you tell her, “he makes me gag too,” as you make an obscene gesture with your hand.

Nesta’s face immediately goes into her hands while Feyre chuckles, but her laughs are drowned out by the male in front of you, his laugh rumbling in his chest beneath your ear.

He peers down at you, one eyebrow raised in question. You nod slightly, and the two of you vanish into his shadows, leaving Feyre and Nesta to watch their mates continue to fight in the dirt, forgetting who really won the competition.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar writing

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rafecameronssl4t · 3 days ago

Text

The Swell || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: S4 ep 4 scene but it’s Sofia’s perspective + abit more angst but still reader x Rafe no use of her name

Warnings: angst!!!!! Mention of dead baby turtles (?), Ruthie (yeh she deserves her own tw),

Word counts: 2,267

A/n: how could I not post on our my man’s bday 😣😔

MASTERLIST

Divider by @h-aewo

As you drive down the beach, the Pogues come into view, their carefree laughter and familiar presence tightening the knot of unease in your stomach. You glance at Rafe, silently hoping the car won’t stop near them, your thoughts spinning in quiet desperation. But when Topper's Jeep slows down and pulls to a halt right next to them, you shut your eyes for a brief moment, taking a sharp breath through your nose to steady yourself.

Rafe, ever attuned to your mood, notices the shift and squeezes your thigh, his touch firm and reassuring. “It’s fine,” he mutters, his voice low and confident, though the tension remains. You look down at his hand resting on your leg, a gesture that says more than words ever could. Rafe helps you down from Topper’s ridiculously raised Jeep, his grip steady as you hop down onto the sand.

The sun beats down, casting long shadows as you take in the scene around you—Topper and John B already in conversation, their words tinged with the familiar undercurrent of rivalry. The air feels thick, charged with a subtle tension that lingers in every glance exchanged between them.

You go through the motions, helping set up blankets and gear, though your attention keeps drifting back to Rafe. He’s sitting a few feet away, legs stretched out in front of him, gaze fixed on the surfers gliding across the water. His sunglasses hide most of his expression, but you can tell he’s watching intently, his mind elsewhere.

When you finally make your way over, he turns his head slightly, reaching for a towel and placing it beside him without a word. You settle down next to him, the sand beneath the towel still warm from the sun, and you let out a small sigh. "Hey, Rafe," you say softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.

Your gaze shifts to Sarah, longboard in hand as she walks out of the water, her eyes locked on her brother. A light smile tugs at your lips as you watch her, the hope in you flickering. "There’s Sarah," you continue, trying to sound upbeat. "Do you think she’d want to talk?" Rafe doesn’t respond right away. His eyes stay focused on the horizon, his expression unreadable.

After a beat, he finally looks towards Sarah, their eyes meeting across the sand. The moment stretches out, thick with everything they’re not saying. "No," Rafe says flatly, shaking his head. "She can come to me if she wants." His voice lacks emotion, as if he’s already resigned to the distance between them. He lifts his beer, taking a slow drink, his nonchalance masking something deeper. You nod in response, sighing softly.

You tried, but it’s not enough. It never seems to be enough. The next few minutes pass in quiet observation. You watch the surfers, your gaze following JJ and Topper as they glide across the water, their competitive nature apparent even in something as simple as catching a wave. JJ, always the wild card, edges too close to Topper and bumps him, sending Topper tumbling into the surf.

Rafe shifts beside you, sitting up a little straighter. "Hey! Blatant poach, man!" he calls out, his voice carrying over the beach, and you can’t help but smile. There’s something almost boyish in the way he yells, a rare glimpse of lightness in an otherwise heavy day. Your momentary smile fades when Ruthie’s piercing voice cuts through the air.

"What the hell was that?!" she shouts, her tone laced with irritation. You roll your eyes instinctively, already feeling the familiar annoyance settle in. Ruthie. She’s always been a thorn in your side, and she knows it. She thrives on it, always pushing just enough to get under your skin, but never enough to cross any real lines—at least not with Rafe around. She wasn’t stupid—she knew better than to challenge his authority, even though she could get away with nearly everything else.

JJ, still in the water, celebrates his small victory with a cocky grin, looking over at you both. Rafe’s response is swift, flipping him the middle finger without even blinking. JJ shrugs it off, giving a sheepish smile, and you laugh softly, shaking your head at the playful exchange. "I don’t know what JJ’s deal was," Kelce chimes in as he and Topper make their way back to the shade.

"That was bullshit, jumping in on you like that." His tone is casual, but there’s a slight edge to it, the kind that always lingers when someone feels disrespected. "Classic low-rent move," Topper agrees, brushing sand from his hair. Rafe’s snarky grin returns as he helps you up from the sand. "Surf violence is violence, man," he comments dryly, earning a chuckle from the group. But before the mood can lighten, the unmistakable sound of an engine revving catches your attention.

You glance over, spotting Ruthie now in the driver’s seat of Topper’s Jeep, her expression smug as she glances towards the Pogues. "Instead of whining about it," Ruthie cocks her head in their direction, a dangerous gleam in her eyes, "let’s drift. Give them a taste of their own medicine." Topper immediately shakes his head. "No, no. We’re not doing that," he says, his voice firm but calm. For all his bravado, Topper is often the most level-headed among them, the one willing to walk away from unnecessary drama.

You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, hoping the situation will diffuse. Ruthie, however, isn’t backing down. "Are you afraid?" she taunts, her tone condescending as she stares him down, tilting her head with a smirk. "I told them we’re gonna be cool," Topper says, shooting a glance at Kelce, as if looking for backup. "Yeah, but they jumped in on you, bro," Kelce replies, still riled up from the earlier incident. "They stomped all over our home base."

"Never knew you kooks owned the beach," you mutter under your breath, loud enough for Rafe to hear. He chuckles softly, glancing at you with an amused look. Ruthie, undeterred, turns her attention back to Kelce, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That doesn’t seem fair, does it? Are you cool with that, Kelce? It’s kind of sad, bro." "Pathetic," Ruthie adds, and a few others let out chuckles, their laughter only adding fuel to the tension.

Topper’s face tightens, his expression darkening as the tension between him and Ruthie reaches its peak. "What’d you say?" he snaps, his tone sharp with frustration, eyes narrowing at her. He’s clearly fed up with her antics, embarrassed as she goads him in front of their friends. The heated argument escalates quickly, Ruthie's biting comments cutting through the air like knives. Topper, red-faced and tense, tries to rein her in, but Ruthie only digs in further, her smirk never fading.

You lean into Rafe, resting your head against his broad back, arms loosely wrapped around his torso for comfort as you watch the scene unfold. It was horrifying but impossible to look away from. Ruthie, always the instigator, keeps pushing, her voice rising above the murmur of waves and laughter. She’s relentless, her eyes gleaming with reckless energy.

"Well, I’m about to buzz down there and show them whose beach this is," she declares, the wild determination in her tone sending a ripple of unease through the group. "You gonna make me go by myself?" You lift your head, casting a glance at Rafe, silently asking him to do something, anything. His eyes flicker with annoyance, but he doesn’t intervene, his usual detached demeanour firmly in place.

Topper, as much as he tries to keep some semblance of control, eventually gives in, rounding the Jeep and sliding into the passenger seat with a defeated huff. The sound of the engine revving cuts through the beach as they prepare for another display of immaturity. "This is ridiculous," you mutter under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch them speed off. Sand flies up behind the tires, scattering across the shoreline.

Rafe shrugs beside you, seemingly unbothered, his voice calm but clipped. "She’s just being Ruthie." "That’s not an excuse," you retort, sharper than you intended. "Is she fucking insane?" Your words are laced with disbelief as you scoff, eyes narrowing as the Jeep swerves wildly down the beach. Ruthie, clearly drunk on adrenaline, comes dangerously close to losing control.

You hold your breath as she veers sharply, missing the Pogues by mere inches. Your heart races in your chest, the tension in the air palpable. Rafe watches in silence, tipping his head back and taking a long swig from his beer, the bottle tilted lazily in his hand as if none of it phases him. You, on the other hand, can’t tear your eyes away from the scene. "Jesus Christ…" you mutter under your breath, jaw slack in shock. Suddenly, a splash of liquid flies through the air, dousing Kiara.

You watch as she recoils, visibly shocked and angry, while the Pogues gather around her, already shouting in response. The kooks around you jeer and laugh, their obnoxious behaviour only adding fuel to the fire. You roll your eyes, disgusted by the immaturity that surrounds you. How could they find this funny? Your gaze shifts back to Rafe, searching his face for any hint of how he’s feeling, but his expression remains unreadable.

His jaw tightens ever so slightly as he scratches his head, eyes flicking back and forth between the Jeep and the chaos Ruthie has left in her wake. Frustration bubbles in your chest — was he angry? Amused? He was impossible to read, and that drove you mad. You couldn’t stand his indifference, not when things had spiraled out of control. "You good with that?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but the irritation seeps through as you turn to face him, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

He doesn't respond immediately, which only adds fuel to the fire. His silence grates on you. Then, after Kiara and JJ confront Ruthie and she threatens to press charges over some meaningless provocation, your patience wears thin. You’ve had enough of the childish antics, the toxic energy swirling around the beach. It was exhausting, and you wanted nothing more than to leave.

"Not cool, Rafe," you say, your voice wavering with disappointment. There’s an ache in your chest, a familiar one that resurfaces whenever you feel let down by him. You want him to see how wrong all of this is, but instead, he shrugs and brushes past you, his focus only on grabbing another beer. His casual indifference feels like a slap in the face. "They deserved it, baby," he mutters as he opens the cooler.

His words make your blood boil. Deserved it? You can’t believe him. It’s like the two of you are on completely different wavelengths, and the divide between you feels wider than ever. Spinning around, you glare at him, anger and hurt flooding your system. "I want to leave," you say, voice firm, holding his gaze as he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing in challenge.

"Now!" you insist, your frustration bubbling over, leaving no room for negotiation. You’re done with the day, with the drama, with everything. Without waiting for his response, you turn on your heel and start walking away, the sound of the waves crashing behind you drowned out by the pounding in your chest. You can feel his eyes on your back, the tension hanging thick in the air, but you don’t stop.

“Babe, hold on,” Rafe calls after you, his voice almost pleading, but you don’t slow down. You grab your beach bag, throwing it over your shoulder with more force than necessary, eyes fixed ahead. You refuse to let him see how upset you really are, not in front of Ruthie and Topper. Especially not when Ruthie’s wearing that smug smile, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s stirred up.

Your jaw clenches as you storm past them, feeling the weight of their judgment. Rafe’s footsteps grow louder behind you, his longer stride quickly closing the distance. "Just calm down," he mutters as he reaches out, his hand catching your elbow in an attempt to stop you. The touch is gentle, but it ignites the anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you immediately yank your arm away, shoving his hand off with a sharp motion.

He steps in front of you, blocking your path, his brows furrowing as he tries to read your expression. "That wasn’t fair, Rafe," you say quietly, your voice cutting through the space between you both. The frustration, disappointment, and anger you’ve been holding in all day spill over. "You saw what Ruthie did! How can you just stand there and act like it’s fine?" Your words come out sharper than you intended, but you’re past caring.

You need him to understand, to see how wrong it all is. Rafe’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze shifting momentarily to the ground before meeting yours again. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but it’s quickly replaced by defensiveness. "She’s Topper’s girlfriend," he snaps, his voice low and tight. "What do you want me to do? I can’t control what she does or doesn’t do."

You let out a bitter laugh, stepping back and shaking your head in disbelief. "So what? You’d rather watch her humiliate people instead? Watch her throw stuff at Kie like a child? Drive over those baby turtles?" Your voice rises, sharp and raw. "That’s what you’re okay with?" His jaw tightens as he scratches his head, avoiding your gaze. "It wasn’t that big of a deal," he mutters, but there’s something in the way he says it—a hint of guilt that he’s trying to bury under his indifference.

"Not that big of a deal?" You repeat, your voice thick with disbelief. "You know what she did was wrong, Rafe. I know you do. You just stood there and didn’t do a fucking thing." He sighs, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. "You could’ve stood up for Kie, for anyone. But instead, you just stood there and let Ruthie act like a total psycho, and now you’re defending it?"

Rafe’s face hardens, but you can see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, the way his gaze shifts uncomfortably. He knows. He knows what Ruthie did was messed up, and it infuriates you even more that he won’t admit it, that he’s hiding behind the excuse of not wanting to cause drama with Topper. "It wasn’t worth starting a fight over," he says, his voice tight, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "It’s not about starting a fight! It’s about doing the right thing! You just stood there, Rafe. You watched it happen, and you knew it was wrong, and you still did nothing!" His eyes flash with irritation, but underneath it, you can see the guilt he’s trying to bury. "Why are you making this about me?" he snaps, his voice defensive. "I didn’t tell her to do anything. It’s not my fault."

"No, but you watched it happen, and that’s just as bad!" Your voice cracks slightly, the frustration and hurt blending together. "You know Ruthie crossed a line. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have let it slide, but because it’s her, and because it’s Topper, you’re acting like it’s no big deal." Rafe clenches his jaw, his frustration evident, but there’s something more in his eyes now—regret, maybe.

He’s not used to being called out like this, not used to being the one who’s wrong. "What do you want me to say?" he mutters, his voice lower, less confident. "It’s not like I could’ve stopped her." Your heart races, and you shoot back, your voice steady but laced with heat. "You chose to stay silent, and that says more than any half-hearted excuse you could come up with. It's pathetic!”

As you confront him, he steps closer, a tangible tension crackling between you. His voice turns low and icy. "Watch it." The warning hangs in the air, but you refuse to back down. He exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair, a gesture of agitation that betrays the storm of emotions brewing inside him. "I don't want to fight with you over something like this," he insists, the frustration lacing his tone, making it tremble with barely contained irritation.

"It’s not worth it." You stare at him, incredulous, your heart racing as the anger you felt moments ago begins to dissolve, replaced by a deeper, simmering disappointment that settles heavily in your chest. It’s a familiar ache, one that stirs memories of past arguments where the same sentiments echoed in different words. "Not worth it?" you echo, your voice soft but laced with hurt. Your words hang in the air, and for a moment, you search his eyes, hoping to find a flicker of understanding.

But he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the sand beneath his feet, as if the grains can offer him some comfort. You see a flicker of doubt cross his features, and for an instant, you think he might actually admit it—might actually acknowledge the truth you’ve laid bare. But instead, he shrugs, a small, helpless gesture that only deepens the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to dismiss the weight of the situation, but it only leaves you feeling more isolated.

"That’s all you can say?" you press, hurt and disappointment lacing your tone again. "I don’t know what you want from me." "I want you to care," you say, your voice quieter now, the fight slowly draining out of you. "I want you to care enough to stand up for what’s right, not just for what’s easy. But I guess that’s too much to ask."

Rafe’s face flickers, something like guilt or frustration passing over his features, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, jaw clenched, the space between you filled with everything he won’t say. You shake your head, the disappointment settling in like a weight in your chest

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