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kittyball23 · 1 year ago

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How do you think Trolls World Tour would’ve played out if Branch reunited with Floyd who was living with the rock trolls but fled when he heard of Barb’s plan to find help to stop her only to run into Poppy and his little brother all grown up?

I think it perhaps would have played out a little something like this 🙂:

Between a Rock and a Hard Place (a Trolls fanfic)

“AAAHHHHHHH!”

The scream startled Branch and Poppy, the pair of them taken aback by the sight of their friend, Biggie, frantically scurrying through the crowd of Trolls in the Village’s clearing. The cause of his fear was made apparent when the Trolls noticed a fuzzy, bat-like creature zipping along right behind him, flapping its leathery, black wings persistently, her bugged red eyes fixed unwaveringly on him.

“Help!” Biggie cried out in desperation. “I’m being harangued by a monster!”

Giving up trying to outrun it, the big blue Troll crouched down and put his hands over his head, hoping it would perhaps go away. But, it didn’t. The creature beat its wings against him and made angry hissing sounds.

“Someone stop it!” he whimpered helplessly.

Luckily, as he’d wished, it was right at that moment that a shock of magenta hair whipped out and snatched the creature from the air. Relief passed through the Trolls, until they realized that it was not the Pop Queen who had grabbed the critter. In fact, it was nobody that the village knew.

But - standing there in the clearing donning black shorts with a large belt buckle, and a simple, black, pearl earring - the Troll seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“Gotcha! Okay, shhh, shh… Now calm down,... who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl…”

The batty creature struggled in the newcomer’s grasp for a second, not appreciating being held steadfast, but quickly was soothed as the Troll rubbed its furry little belly and spoke hushedly. Pretty soon, its flapping had stopped entirely and purred, the vibration rumbling against his teal hand.

Once the others could sense no more imminent danger, they began to gather a little closer, whispering among themselves.

“Who is that?” Legsly asked, pointing at the new Troll. “And what is that thing he’s holding?” she added, referring to the critter.

“It’s creepy!” Cooper shuddered, shielding his eyes from the creature.

“It’s scary!” Satin and Chenille chimed at the same time.

“And… naAaAAasty,” Guy Diamond yelped in his techno-like voice.

“Hold me, Daddy!” Tiny Diamond whimpered in his deep voice, letting his father clutch him close for protection.

Suddenly realizing that all the attention had gone to him, the newcomer shrunk under everybody’s gaze, bashfully tucking his head down between his shoulders and allowing his magenta bangs to fall over his face, so that it shielded his left eye.

Branch’s eyes narrowed at him, though he could feel that his gaze was not as intense as he would’ve liked for it to be. Reason being, there was something strangely familiar about this Troll. What it was, though, he couldn’t pinpoint right away. That hair, that voice… he could’ve sworn he’d seen and heard it, if long ago in his memory.

As it turned out, it wasn’t a much different situation for the new Troll, either. He looked at him curiously, mirroring Branch by slightly tilting his head and narrowing his eyes, as if there too was something he was trying to figure out. It was only when he shifted his gaze down to the leafy green vest Branch was wearing that things clicked. Recognition seemed to flash across his face in an instant, the magenta-haired Troll lifting his eyes to meet Branch’s and looking as though he were about to say something. But before he could…

“‘To Queen Poppy’?” Poppy read aloud from a scroll that the creature had dropped on the ground. She was confused to see her name written on it, and continued to read. “’Barb, Queen of Rock, announces her One Nation of Trolls Under Rock World Tour. Bring your string to the biggest party in the world has ever seen.’” Poppy beamed. “Oh, don’t worry everyone. It’s an invitation!”

The Trolls chattered excitedly. A party? With games and presents and glitter galore? That sounded like fun!

“But why does she need our string?” Cooper questioned.

“And what does ‘Queen of Rock’ mean? Who is she?” Poppy asked aloud.

“You don’t wanna know.”

Poppy whirled around to face the newcomer, his silence having her almost forget entirely that he was even there. “Trust me,” he said again, “you don’t.”

The Pop Queen was startled to hear such a thing. “But… it’s a party!” she exclaimed.

“Not the kind you wanna go to,” the Troll replied without hesitation. “Not with what the Hard Rockers have planned…”

Poppy shook her head. “But who are they?”

“Nobody!” King Peppy shouted, hurrying into the crowd of Trolls, sidling up to his daughter’s side and tearing the invitation from her hand. He proceeded to crumble it in a frenzy, all while crying out hysterically. “Nobody saw anything! Nothing to see here!” He then turned to the magenta-haired Troll and began to shove him away. “Young man, go back to where you came from! Now, please!”

“Whoa, whoa, Dad!” Poppy called, touching her father on the shoulder. He yelped, jolting and looking at her wildly. Popy was baffled. Her Dad was kicking out a Troll? What in the world for? She took his hands in hers in and spoke soothingly to calm him. “Dad, what’s going on?”

King Peppy gazed deeply into her eyes for a moment, peering between her and the new Troll, and then sighed.

“Oh, Poppy,” he moaned, “I’ve long feared this day would come. I was hoping to protect you from this.”

Poppy raised an eyebrow. “Protect me?” she asked. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Dad. I’m the queen now.”

“You’re right,” King Peppy agreed, nodding slowly. “The truth is… we are not alone in this world…”

Mr. Dinkles made a spooky sound to accompany King Peppy’s explanation. Biggie stuck a finger in his pet form’s round mouth.

“Shhh!” Biggie said to his little friend.

“You see, there are other kinds of Trolls,” King Peppy told everyone. The Trolls around him were silent for a moment, taking this in. Other Trolls? What did King Peppy mean?”

“Wow, really?” Poppy said enthusiastically. “Dad, that’s great! The more Trolls, the merrier!”

The newcomer scoffed. “If only it were that easy,” he mumbled.

King Peppy cut his eyes to him, frowning. “Young man, this conversation does not involve you. I’ve asked you to leave once… don’t make me have to call security!” He jerked a thumb over to where Smidge was standing, the little Troll cracking her knuckles in anticipation of a potential scuffle.

The Troll gulped at the sight, and quickly stammered an explanation. “N-no! Please, I’m not here to cause trouble. I came here to help you guys.”

But when Peppy did not relax, and Poppy began to show signs of discomfort at the confrontation, Branch stepped in to enforce the matter.

“You heard him,” he stated simply, but with a hardness to his voice that spoke more volumes alongside the clenched fists at his side.

“I know,” he replied. “But I can’t just leave you guys in danger, Branch.”

“We’re more than capable of taking care of our - Wait, what?” Branch blinked, surprised to hear this stranger call him by name. How did he know who he was?

The Troll offered a gentle smile. “It’s been a while, bro.”

The blue Troll gasped, realizing exactly who this was and being unable to believe it. All the years he waited and waited, until he couldn't anymore, and now he was back? He could almost feel tears pooling in his eyes as a mix of conflicting emotions assaulted him.

Poppy saw the strong reaction coming from her friend, and cautiously spoke to the newcomer.

“I’m sorry... Who did you say you were, again?”

The newcomer let out a breath he was holding, tucked the bat creature under one arm and extended his other to Poppy to properly introduce himself.

“Forgive me for not doing this sooner. My name is Floyd,” he said, “and I’m Branch’s brother.”

__________________________________________

With the manner in which the Trolls in the clearing had erupted into a cacophony of noise - a mix of questions about the Troll-turned-sibling, panic-stricken worries over the idea of the existence of other strange Trolls, and even outright screaming - it came as no surprise that Peppy had ordered for them to break into a smaller group, to allow for a little more privacy.

It was here in the beautiful secluded grotto in the company of just Floyd, Poppy, Branch, and the Snack Pack that King Peppy wove a tale unlike any other that had been heard. A story of six Tribes of Trolls, each uniquely defined by their special taste in music - Techno, Funk, Classical, Country, Rock, and Pop - and how harmony had been created as a result of it. The harmony, however, was not meant to last. Intolerance sprouted like weeds, leading to discord, leading to the ultimate separation of each tribe. But perhaps the most striking part of the tale was the revelation of their own string - the Pop string, a gorgeous pink in color and producing an equally gorgeous sound, housing the very lifeforce that made them them - the toe-tapping, finger-snapping, rump-shaking Trolls they were.

“Ohh, I get it,” Poppy murmured, “Queen Barb wants to reunite the strings so that the Trolls Kingdom can be one big party again!” The Pop Queen grinned a little. She liked the sound of that!

But Floyd shook his head. “Um, no,” he disagreed gently. “Barb has no interest whatsoever in uniting the world. She wants to destroy it. And she’s going to do it one tribe at a time until there’s none left!” He picked up the invite from where it lay (a little wrinkled, but still legible) next to the ancient scroll that King Peppy had used to depict the tale. “These invitations were just the first step. A deception. And anyone who doesn’t give up their string is going to have it taken by force.” He looked at the bat critter in his hands and sighed. “I tried to stop the invite from even reaching you guys, but I guess I wasn’t fast enough to keep up with Debbie here…”

Poppy was stunned. “B-but… why would another queen use her power for evil? Didn’t anyone try to stop her?”

“The Hard Rockers are all on board,” Floyd explained. “She managed to convince everyone that this was the best thing to do for her people. They all believed her. Well, um… except for me. But then again, I was never a true Rock Troll from the start…”

Poppy snapped her fingers. “That’s riiiight… and that’s something else I’m not understanding…” She turned on her friend. “Branch! How come you never told me you have a secret brother?!”

The blue Troll frowned. “What’s there to tell? I have no brothers.”

Floyd was confused. “Branch, what are you talking about? Just take a look at us…”

It was true. Even by sight, there was a very distinct similarity between the two of them, from their teal skin, purple noses, round face shapes, and even slight downward curve of their ears.

But Branch crossed his arms defiantly. “I have no brothers,” he said again, emphasizing each syllable, “because the day you walked out on me, you lost the chance to ever call me that again.”

“Branch, please, believe me, I was going to come back, it’s just - “

“Just what?” Branch cut in, scoffing. “You’re a liar. You never followed through with your promise.”

Floyd fiddled with his fingers. “Well, um, I mean, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Uh-huh… twenty years TOO LATE!” Branch turned to the others in the grotto. “Why should we believe someone like this? For all we know, he could be a spy for these ‘Hard Rock’ Trolls!” He searched his friends’ faces. Silently taking it all in, Biggie, Smidge, Cooper, Guy Diamond, and Legsly were a mixture of uncertainty and concern, not sure what to make of it.

King Peppy spoke up for them. “Branch,” he said gently, “I certainly see where you’re coming from. But… are you willing to put our tribe in danger because of it?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it’s a risk I’m not willing to take.” He then waved to the Trolls. “Hurry now! We must prepare before Barb arrives! We’ve got no time to lose!”

“Dad, wait!” Poppy cried, trying to stop her him and her friends as they shuffled off. “Guys, come on! Just because they’re different doesn’t mean that the solution is fighting! Branch, help me out here, say something!”

Branch marched right by her. “Wait for me!” he called out. But as he scurried by, he was grabbed by the arm.

“Branch, wait,” Floyd pleaded. Then he turned to Poppy. “Could you, uh… give us a minute?” he asked politely.

Branch wanted to protest, but he groaned, and did not put up a fight. “I’ll meet you in a second, Poppy,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh! Um, okay…” She trudged off, sparing one last glance at them before heading off in the direction her father had gone. The two boys were left there in an awkward, tense silence.

Floyd broke it first, clearing his throat. “Wow… you’ve really grown into that vest of mine. You’re… a man now.”

Branch kept his back turned to him as he answered tersely. “Just goes to show how long it’s been.”

Floyd sighed. “Look, Branch, I know that nothing I can say is a valid enough excuse for what happened. I guess I just got so caught up with my solo career once the Rock Trolls took me in. But I swear that there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about you.” He chuckled for a second. “Remember how we used to make up songs and dances? It was a lot of fun.”

It was, Branch recalled, almost wanting to smile, but he composed himself. “That’s all in the past,” he said coldly, turning to look him right in the eye. “And besides, actions speak louder than words. And the fact is that you never came back.”

Branch felt a tug at his heart when Floyd winced, hurt by his words. But then again, they were words of truth.

“You’re right,” Floyd said, “Actions do speak louder than words. And here I am now, trying to save my little brother from something that I know for sure is going to harm him. Because I want him to be safe. It was a mistake to leave him the first time. And I don’t want to lose him again.”

Branch felt himself loosening. He wanted to keep up the wall of ice he built around himself should any of his brothers try to come back into his life. But not even those walls were immune to the warmth of Floyd’s kindness. “I really want to believe you, Floyd,” he whispered, “I just don’t know if I can…”

“Then let's just take things one step at a time, okay?” And when Branch nodded, Floyd took the opportunity to extend his arms out, allowing Branch to decide whether he wanted to make a move or not.

It didn’t take long to come to that decision, though. Branch embraced Floyd in a replica of that very same night that he had left him. He squeezed tightly, wanting to confirm his physical presence, and afraid to let go should he have been a mirage this entire time.

“Awww…”

The pair broke apart, finding Poppy cooing at the scene. She grinned sheepishly upon realizing she’d intruded on the private moment.

“Oh! I’m sorry…”

“It’s all right, Poppy,” Branch assured. “We’re just about done here.”

“Oh, good,” she breathed in relief. “Well, I mean, because, I wanted to talk to you guys about Barb. We’ve gotta stop her!”

“Can’t say I disagree with the endgoal here, but the trouble comes in the ‘how,’” Floyd pointed out.

“Well, we can think about it as we get everyone safely hidden away in the bunker,” Branch said, waving them to follow.

“Bunker?” Floyd asked, coming up alongside his brother.

“Oh, it’s the coolest thing ever!” Poppy gushed. “It’s underground, and it’s got all these tunnels and rooms, and trapdoors, and… and so much cool stuff!”

Floyd beamed. “Wow, so you built the hideout, huh? I’m proud of you, Branch.”

“Hideout?” The Pop Queen echoed, curious.

There was a hint of a bashful blush in the blue Troll’s cheeks as he shrugged in reply. “Heh, well, it’s not that big of a deal…”

“Of course it is,” Floyd countered, bumping his elbow against his. “Did you even add the ten-story waterslide?”

Poppy gasped. “A waterslide in the bunker? That sounds amazing!”

But Branch shook his head. “Nah.”

“But then, how do you shower?”

Branch answered his brother’s teasing question with a little smirk. “I bathe.”

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #floyd trolls #branch trolls #poppy trolls #trolls 2 #trolls world tour #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #thanks for the ask!#kittyball answers #100+

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lottiecrabie · 2 years ago

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to dust and bones. part one – matty healy

they cross paths at a bar. he’s out for blood, and hers beat tantazingly beneath her flesh. (or the worst people you know are in the worst situationship in existence)

warnings: 18+, power games, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, choking, dom!matty, bratting, general toxicity, mentions of drug use, oc

part one of two

6521 words

Alana shoots back the bitter tequila, licking hot sauce off her sweaty hands. Her face scrunches in pain, head shaking. Her sinuses clear; her thoughts leak out of her head. There’s ear-splitting music ringing around her— some god awful EDM shit she’s drunk enough to dance to.

Crowded bodies push against her. She sways to the beat, hips rolling to some seductive rhythm drumming in the deepest parts of her heart. Her skin-tight black dress rises up her legs, revealing inches of tantalizing skin.

Alana feels rugged hands graze the outside of her thighs. She smirks to herself, leaning back against the hard wall of body behind her. Fingers climb up instinctively to her waist, spreading across her stomach, tugging her into him until they’re flushed together, indistinguishable from the other.

Black curls tickle at her cheek. He’s familiar against her; the muscles and dips of him unfortunately memorized in a corner of her brain she hasn’t managed to blitz out even with all the coke.

Matty Healy. Dark angel leaning over her, nosing her perfumed neck.

“Buy a girl a drink first,” Alana whispers. Thankfully he’s close— too close to breathe properly, to make sense of her scattered thoughts— and he manages to hear over the DJ’s techno beats.

“Why would I?” Matty bites back, breath blowing against her ear. Alana forces down a shiver. “I can have her without.”

She whips to face him, a furious dash between her eyebrows. Rage climbs up her spine, taking over her head, and it’s only the second most familiar emotion she feels with Matty Healy. What an insufferable asshole, looking at her all smug when he sees the anger spreading through her veins.

Cheeks red, head swimming with the alcohol and the drugs and the deafening music, Alana tries to come up with some scathing reply. She wants to leave him burning, skin red and raw where she lashed at him. Wants to dig her nails into him, tear his beating heart from two fragile ribs.

“Fuck you,” is what she manages, of course, because the world is a blurry daze around her, and her brain is working slower than her tongue.

Matty smiles saccharine sweet at her. It feels awfully condescending on the cutting traits of his face. “But you have, princess.”

“You’re—” He cocks his head, encouraging her with gleeful eyes. Alana breathes through her nose. “—not worth my time. Go do your horny act somewhere else.”

She flips on her heels, marching determinedly to the crowded bar. Matty is hot on her trails, of course, leaning into her to tease, “Horny act? I barely even touched you.”

“The most you will.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Alana pushes her way through the swarming crowd, digging her elbows in unfortunate places to get an in. People turn to her with a snarling face, but most seem to back down at the sight of her. Perhaps they recognize her, with flushed cheeks and cleavage dipping low. Perhaps they recognize the man towering behind her, following her godly parting of the sea of bodies like the privileged kid he’s always been.

She finally manages to get to the bar, hands slamming the counter victoriously. A pretty bartender bounces to her, upping her chin in question. “What can I get you?”

Alana opens her mouth. Instead, Matty cuts in, “Dirty vodka martini for her and a gin tonic for me.” The bartender nods, getting to work.

Alana’s head flips to him, daggering him with a murderous glare. “I can order for myself.”

Matty scoffs. “You practically begged me to buy you a drink.”

She stumbles over the words in sheer offense, shrill as she gasps, “Begged— Oh, you fucking asshole.”

Two drinks slam over the counter. “Put it on my tab,” Matty says, kidnapping her martini and making his way out of the crowd. Alana follows him bitterly, already planning to rack up his bill now that he’s so stupidly offered it to her. She’ll buy rounds for the whole club just to ruin him.

He leads them to the VIP lounge, nodding at the bouncer as he moves to let them in. What a douchey move, she thinks, climbing up the staggering stairs, holding the skirt of her rising dress.

The lounge is drenched in red light. Black leather couches and satin cushions scatter the place. Gray cigar smoke lingers above their heads. Some softer RnB plays, and Alana’s ears find momentary relief. She bites her lip to contain a pleased moan.

Two dancers, impossibly tall and svelte in white lingerie dresses, move against two poles on a small stage. They’re languid and confident, swaying to a temperature rising rhythm, effortlessly seductive.

Matty sits in front of the dancers, legs spreading as he makes himself too comfortable. He rests the two drinks on a black table in front of him, looking up at the girls with a cheeky, provocative grin.

Inexplicable fire twists up in her guts. Alana drops beside Matty, practically sticking to his side, one leg crossing over the other to faintly kick his shin, which he takes in chuckling stride.

Her arm reaches over him to grab her martini. She places it between her lips, glass knocking her teeth gracelessly. He considers her, eyes following the land of skin she's uncovered through her new pose.

“Aren’t you gonna say thank you?” He teases as she finishes a new mouthful of her cocktail.

Alana offers him a deadpan look. “No.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing his gin tonic, leaning an arm over the back of the couch. “Brat,” he shakes his head.

The lightning is low, casting red shadows over his face, but she can still see his dark gaze, hungry for flesh and those pathetic whines she can never hold back when he’s knuckles deep inside of her, penetrating through her skin. She draws a finger around the rim of the glass.

She hates it most when Matty gets that way, intense and greedy and so fucking clear. His stare is predatory, watching her every little move to pounce on. The game feels instantly more dangerous. Anxiety spikes; some fight or flight response she never chooses right.

Matty downs half of his drink, conspicuous Adam’s apple bobbing. She watches it religiously, remembering the purple stains she scattered around it just a few days ago.

“Don’t drink so fast. We just got here,” she says warningly. She knows why he’s speeding this up.

Matty lowers his glass just enough to offer a burning stare, hotter than she can handle in this stuffy room.

I’m gonna fuck you is written bright and clear in his eyes.

He finishes his gin tonic in another long sip, licking the last drop from his red lips. Heat spreads through her abdomen, clenching it guiltily. She flexes her hands around the stem.

Slamming the glass back on the table, Matty adventures two fingers over her naked leg. It tickles, raising the hair of her skin as she shivers openly. His palm swallows the meat of her thigh, the tempting skin she so freely offered him. His hand is cold, glacial against the fire licking up her limbs.

“Drink up,” Matty whispers, a devilish smile catching his cheek. She shakes her head, words completely lost to her.

“I’m not thirsty.” Alana’s heart smashes against her ribs. Uncontrollable thing, careless thing. It always throws her into the worst situations, leaving her sober head to clean up its mess.

“No?” Matty pouts, climbing his hand to the hem of her dress. “You look a little flushed.”

“It’s the light.” She stares up at the red fluorescents to prove her point, like he couldn’t see the mood lighting reigning over the room.

“I think you’re scared,” Matty says. He’s never been one to stretch his words, coat them in syrup to swallow easier.

She racks her throat. “Why would I be scared?” Although she promised herself not to give him an inch more, Alana gulps some of her martini to shake off the nerves (not fear, just some pesky anxiety from the lingering drugs). Matty smiles at the action triumphantly.

“Because you left me naked and tied up to my bed last time.” He leans into her, whispering playfully into her cheek. “Because you didn’t let me come, and now you’re afraid of what I’ll do to you.”

More backless bravado than sense, she grins cheekily. “It was funny. It’s not my fault you can’t take a little joke.”

Fingers dipping under her dress. Alana bites her lip, hiding the breathy moan that wishes to slip her lips. It’s useless; he sees right through. “Oh, I’ll make you laugh.” He bites at her jaw, not enough to sting, but enough to know he’s serious. She scrunches her nose, tilting her head into him.

Matty leans away, grabbing the martini from her hand. He places it between her lips. Instinctively, Alana opens them, and he tips the glass into her mouth. “Good girl,” he teases as she drinks. Her eyes snap to his dangerously, some unmasked threat that she’d spit it in his face if it wouldn’t ruin some really good vodka. “So feisty,” Matty tsks, amused.

He takes the glass away. She licks at the rim, catching some droplets as it falls down the cone. Matty swirls the leftover martini, staring down shamelessly at her wet lips.

“I could fuck anyone here,” he whispers. Clarity strikes through the flames, shaking away some of that daze. She frowns at him, taking a self-conscious peek at the pair of girls still twirling around their pole. Of course, Matty catches her moment of weakness, grasping it greedily as she scowls. “Yes, especially them. Have them bent over the other for me, cunts opened for my cock. Couldn’t you just see them, screaming in my sheets, rutting against each other?”

“You overestimate your skills,” Alana bites, though it’s mostly from anger at the unwelcomed images he’s forced inside her brain. “You couldn’t handle them.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Like I can’t handle you?”

She purses your lips, face crisping. She wishes it was true. That he didn’t have enough hands and tongue and cock to work with all of her, with the mess of hair she throws back carelessly as she rides him, with the nails digging into his back mercilessly, with the hips he grasps between heavy hands as he bruises her skin. That the rage and the hatred and the head-twirling passion she throws at him wouldn’t be caught, wouldn’t be swallowed to spit back tenfold. That he wouldn’t know what to do with all of her.

But he does. Goddamit, he does like no one else ever has.

Alana refuses to dignify him with an answer. Still, Matty doesn’t need one, dipping the leftover martini in her mouth. His breath is hot against her ear, sticking on her sweaty skin.

“I could fuck anyone here,” he repeats, probably to martel home some complex she’s not interested in diving into. “But I want you.”

She’d bite back something cheeky and snobbish, something near of course you do or who doesn’t or some other grand words to deflect. Right now, she’s too busy obediently swallowing what he’s giving her, but she’s sure he reads them anyway in the burn of her stare.

As if to plead the last of his case, he raises his cold hand to the final stretch, meeting the black lace of her panties. Alana moans, alcohol dripping down her chin from the startled jump, something else dripping where his fingers meet the apex of her thighs.

“Let me fuck you,” Matty breathes, biting her jaw, this time to sting, to tear apart.

Finished with her drink, he slams the glass beside his, turning back to her quickly, afraid to miss even the smallest of shivers. “Begging already?” Alana pants, out of breath.

His free thumb wipes the alcohol off her chin, bringing it back to her lips, forcing them open. She sucks his finger into her mouth. He presses against her tongue, heavy and undeniable. Drool sticks to it as she releases it, red lipstick staining the knuckle.

His other hand, much more occupied, teases a delicious rhythm over her wet panties. She leans further into the cushions, manually stopping herself from dropping her legs open for this whole lounge to see.

“Don’t give me ideas,” Matty warns. “You know how I enjoy you begging. All those pretty sounds you make, whiney and pathetic.”

His spitful hand racks through the sweaty mess of her hair, tugging at the roots. Her head bends, throat barred. He grunts at the sight.

Matty can’t stop himself any longer. He crashes his lips to hers, licking into her open mouth. It’s a messy thing, more teeth and spit than anything romantic, hands still buried in her hair. He tugs it harshly, swallowing the pitiful moans she releases.

Alana clings to his shoulders, afraid she’d drown in the satin if it wasn’t for his buoyant body slithering around her. She curses his jacket, bulletproof vest to the claw marks she’d litter on his skin. Black nail polish tainted red by the end of the night— but he’s safe for now.

Matty bites her lower lip, dragging it from her. She shudders in his arms, head swooping ecstasy climbing up her thoughtless brain. It must be the martini downed too fast. (It’s him. It’s always him.)

His hand releases her hair, finding the slope of her neck instead, digging into the skin. His thumb presses meanly at her jaw. Alana wonders if it’ll bruise.

He pushes her further into the sofa, practically swallowing her whole under his lanky limbs. She can’t make sense of the edges of him. He’s everywhere, invading her flesh, slipping under her very skin, to the beating parts of her she wishes to banish him from. Hot pleasure drips down her veins.

Matty licks into her lazily. He tastes like gin, which he knows she hates. He does it on purpose, buying drinks she’d never put to her lips just to spit it in her mouth. Alana can’t stand the taste of it. She doesn’t know why she craves the taste of him, faintly smokey from some expensive cigarette.

He thumbs at her clit vaguely, more as a smothered promise of what he could do than any real attempt at skill. Still, it’s enough to make dangerous fire course through her veins. She clenches around nothing, groaning.

“Are you gonna fuck me in front of everyone?” Alana rasps, biting and mean like he’s not playing her like his favorite puppet.

Matty hums indulgently. He presses his index into her clothed entrance, wet and sticky for him. “Do you want me to? Let them know how good you are for me even with all that talk? All those sounds you make just for me?” He nips at her jaw, climbing up to her ear. “We can give them a show.”

Alana’s heart slams against her ribs, begging to be let out and fall to his booted feet. She breathes heavily, head falling as he continues some slow circle on her clit, never enough to wipe from her head the outrageous knowledge that it’s Matty Healy blowing the flames.

“Bathroom,” Alana gasps, eyes scrunched close.

Matty laughs lowly, shaking his head in the side of her neck. “Coward.”

Still, he sits up, dragging her body with his. Her brain knocks against her skull as she comes back, taking a deep breath of air. Reality feels very far away from the tip of her fingers. She’s drowning in him, in the smell of his cologne and that awful taste of gin clinging to his lips.

The walk to the bathroom feels like a dreamscape maze, more colorful mood lightning and stepping over leather shoes than any tangible thing.

The room is dark and clinical. The floor is black marble, sleek and easy to step on, heels clicking as she adventures further into the bathroom. The light is low. Alana has to squint to make sense of Matty locking the door behind them. He turns back to her, lion stride as he loosens his tie.

He’s gonna eat her alive.

Matty crowds her space, pushing her against the sink’s countertop as he noses her cheek. Alana’s thighs hit the cold marble, shivering at the contrasting temperature. The tip of his fingers find her skin again, climbing up the goosebumps, driving under the hem.

Alana’s own hands bury in the mess of hair at the nape of his neck. Black nails dig into the unruly locks, tugging vaguely. She breathes with him, the only surrounding melody in this musicless room. What a strange feeling to be so thoroughly abandoned by distractions.

Tired of wasting time, Matty grabs her thighs, throwing her carelessly on the marble countertop. Her legs spread wide, welcoming him in the middle of her, black heels kicking beside his knees. Hands rise to her waist, trailing greedily over her skintight dress. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

Alana grins. Compliments are always the worst moves, climbing up to her head and loosening whatever miraculous hold he had on it. She leans away against the gray tiles of the wall, cheeky and devilish, fingers slipping from his mane to the muscles of his shoulders. “Say that again.”

Matty tries to dip for a kiss instead, but she dodges easily, turning her head into her shoulder. He groans at her childish antics, digging his nails into her ribs. “You’re fucking annoying.”

“‘S not what I asked.”

Matty buries his face in her offered neck, leaving wet kisses as he scales up her jaw, up her cheeks. Alana giggles, wrinkling her nose, shifting in her seat. “You’re beautiful,” Matty finally whispers in her ear, gently biting the lobe. She hums, nodding at him. Roughly, he warns, “And if you keep playing these games, I’ll leave your ass so red you won’t be able to sit for days.”

The threat should make a spike of anxiety hit her. Instead, languid fire pools at her stomach. She moans, closing her eyes, pushing her hips further into his. The angle is a little awkward, just slightly too high to really get anything working. She manages to roll her pleading hips on his belt buckle.

“Greedy thing,” Matty tsks. “So fucking impatient.”

“It’s not my fault you’re all talk.”

Matty scoffs. “You’ve got a death wish.”

Alana flutters her eyelashes at him, pouting. “I thought you could handle me.”

He groans, hands burrowing back into her skirt. Calloused fingers grab at her hips, digging into the black lace of her panties. He drags it out slowly, smirking down at her as Alana scoops herself up to help him. A brief ceasefire, just because he knows all the parts of her to press into.

She giggles in his open mouth, finding him again, embarrassingly giddy. Thrill beats in her veins, cunt throbbing for him, for the good part of this relentless chess match. He kisses her indulgently, shitty grin undeniable against her lips. Alana doesn’t even have it in her to care.

In the corner of her eyes, she sees Matty shove the lacy thing in his pocket. She releases his lips like he’s burned her, scowling petulantly. “You have to give those back. I’m running out of underwear.” Every time they fall back into this poisonous push and pull, Alana loses a pair of her favorite lingerie, forgotten in the endless pockets and sheets of Matty Healy. She’d consider going commando just to spite him if he wouldn’t like it so much, love knowing he’s gotten under her skin, made her change some known habit.

Of course, Matty shakes his head with a teasing grin. “No.”

“At least buy me new ones.”

He cocks his head, considering her. “Are you gonna try them on for me?”

Alana rolls her eyes, just a little bit turned on at the idea of it. “You’re such a boy.”

Cockily, he racks her to the edge of the countertop, finally pressing her against his hard cock. Alana gasps at the sinful feel, eyes rolling back for completely different reasons. He grinds into her, the rough material of his trousers rolling against the most sensitive part of her. A traitorous whine leaves her lips; she bites it shut just a little too late.

Matty whispers smugly, “I’m a man.”

What a fucking douchebag. Alana can’t handle this back and forth he coaxes out of her, always swaying between burning anger and choking desire like the world’s most on-beat metronome.

She gracefully lets him have this one. Doesn’t even come up with a jab or a glare in bitter answer. Of course, that might be because he’s sailing up her thighs, thumb pressing into her clit as jaw-dropping relief climbs up her spine. Her head falls against the backsplash, lips parted, rolling her hips against his fingers as he circles lazily at her.

He’s fucking perfect. She wants to cut his fingers clean off, curse them for ever making her feel this way. Peeking her eyes open, Alana swears he knows this, gathering a pool of her arousal to smear it over her bundle of nerves. She gasps in the quiet air, uselessly kicking her feet.

“You’re so wet for me,” Matty says in wonder, eyes locked to the way she grinds for him, dripping on the black marble.

“First time making a girl wet?” Alana tries to brat, but it comes out weak between two moans.

He smirks condescendingly at her, tracing her swollen lips with the tip of his free hand, coating her chin with tacky lipgloss. “We both know the answer to that.”

Without warning, he thrusts two fingers into her. It’s embarrassing how quickly her cunt welcomes him home, insides rearranging to make room for him dutifully. Her face scrunches, crying against his jaw.

“Fuck, Matty.”

“Yeah?” He arches an eyebrow, curling his hand to draw a feverish wave of ecstasy out of her.

She grips his shoulders, pushing the jacket off of them, trying to sink her claws into anything. He’s relentless between her legs, thrusting and circling and working magic. Pressure builds inside her abdomen. She's mewling in his neck, panting in his ear.

Matty stares down at her in hunger. He’s got her right where he wants her, Alana knows this. But why does he keep watching her like he’s about to rip into her throat? Smug and dangerous and voracious?

An inexplicable strike of nerves hit her. His fingers dip into her faster, swiping at her clit. The cold sink and his warm body and the feel of his rough fingers inside of her are too much. Pathetic moans spill from her lips, overflowing out of her. She wrinkles her face closed, then forces it open again. Just to keep an eye on him, on his flexed arm as he wrecks her from the inside. Bliss threatens the edges of her. She tastes it on her tongue

Alana cries, “Are you gonna make me come?” It’s pathetic to ask. She’d demand it in normal circumstances, holding onto his arm, a ruinous hand over his own guiding him into her sopping cunt.

But— She left him hard and sticky last time, screaming after her as she touched up her lipstick. And now he’s looking down at her like he’s got her exactly where he wants, brain melting out of her ears, begging for him.

He leans into her with a trickster smile, licking his teeth. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Never.”

He pumps harder inside of her, adding a third finger. The world blurs around Alana. She screams, digging her nails under his white shirt. Right—

Matty thrusts out of her as quickly as he entered. A guttural cry rips from her throat, head banging on the wall from the stolen orgasm. Soaked fingers fall limply on her thigh, drying the slick on her skin. He grins, smacking her cheek with a sweet kiss.

“You fucking asshole,” Alana bites, out of breath, fury swirling around her dazed head.

“What?” He finds her lips next, catching them with a biting kiss. “Were you close?”

“I’ll kill you.”

“I’d like to watch you try.”

Matty pushes the cups of her dress down, revealing her tits, flushed and peaked for him. He twirls two fingers around her nipple, greedily watching as another wave of pleasure hits her, as the uncontrollable rage smothers for ecstasy.

Alana is half-pissed to lose that sharp sense of anger, something to strike through the blur of him, to hold onto. Pissed that he can melt away all her hatred, make her putty in his expert hands.

He dives for her breasts, biting and licking and sucking on them like a starved man. Muted pain stretches over her chest. Alana racks a hand through his sweaty curls, gasping.

“Are you gonna ask nicely?” Matty whispers, starting that torturously cycle on her clit again. “I like when you ask all sweet and desperate.” Alana shakes her head, sloppily kissing at his jaw as he teases a finger over her entrance again. “Come on,” he chuckles lowly. “Beg for it.”

“Screw you,” Alana bites, legs spreading wider for him in complete contradiction.

“Yeah, I bet you want me to.”

Matty dips a finger inside of her, pumping slowly, unbothered by her rushing him. Her hands are everywhere on him— the mane of his black hair, the cut of his jaw, the buttons of his shirt, undone by her sloppy hands, the muscle of his working arm, the belt at his hips. Pressing and clawing and tugging at him, pleading with a silent hand to work faster.

He’s uninterested in listening, especially when her mouth still refuses to grant him the sweet nothings she always moans for him. His pace is steady and consistent, entirely not enough. She smacks the counter uselessly.

“You’re the worst,” Alana whines, head flopping around her neck. Tension builds meticulously slow inside of her. She throbs around his finger, wishing for more, but he continues to deny her.

“I just want you to be good for me,” Matty breathes, holding her head up with a heavy hand.

“Just fuck me, Matty.”

Trying to speed it along, Alana pounces on his belt buckle, frantically trying to undo it with trembling fingers. It’s a messy affair; he pries them away easily. His jaw clenches, clearly unhappy with her. He exhales through his nose. The air grows electric. Alana’s pussy shamefully clenches around him.

Matty is a fucking sight. She desperately wishes it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t perfectly sculpted to fit around her stained palms. A fallen angel crashed to Earth just to lick the vodka and red off her lips.

“Can’t you ever listen?” His hand moves again, slithering around the front of her throat. He presses meanly at the sides, blood rushing away from her head. Alana’s lips part, but only quiet spills from them. “That’s all that ever shuts you up, isn’t it?”

Alana laughs gleefully at his anger, managing a choked, “Not even,” just to spite him. He digs into her arteries, surely leaving a constellation of bruises for her to cover up.

“Fine, princess,” Matty grunts. “We’ll do it your way.”

In a second, he’s got three fingers back inside of her, fast and hard, curling just right. It’s miraculous how he manages to be everywhere inside and outside of her, how he drowns her in the feel of him.

Her head disconnects from her neck. She gasps for air, purring in their shared breaths. Euphoria coils around her belly, hot and sticky and so, so close. Sweet oblivion. She barely remembers their names, barely remembers what—

“Fucking hell, Matty,” Alana screams, slapping his shoulder with no force, missing his gone fingers. “Just— Just let me come.”

“Brats don’t deserve orgasms. I thought you learned your lesson.”

Matty takes a clinical step away from her. Breathing harshly, she tries to reattach herself to the firm reality that exists around her and not this dreamed-up land the cliff of a shattering climax brings her to.

He’s so proper, still dressed while her dress bunches useless around her waist. So put together as she drools and drips and pants for him, unhinged and unmade. How fucking embarrassing.

She’d lash at him in retaliation, bring him down to her dirty level, make him feel crass inside. She has the urge to on the tip of her tongue, feels the burn all the way to her throat.

But what would Matty give her in return? Not what she wants. Not what she craves.

God, Alana hates when she has to fucking listen.

“Matty,” she sings, finding the lapels of his shirt and tugging him back into her. She flutters her eyelashes innocently at him, licking her lips. “I’m sorry.” He snorts at her. It’s another bruise to heal tomorrow. “Please, I mean it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She grabs his cheek with one hand, kissing the other one religiously. “Fuck me. Please, please, Matty, fuck me. I need you.”

With her free hand, she coaxes him back between her legs, spreading his long fingers over her sopping hole. “It’s all for you. It’s always just for you.” She licks his jaw, biting his earlobe. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this way.”

Alana presses his fingers into her entrance. They enter her together, a delicious stretch that has her sighing in relief. It’s crowded and nasty and, oh, my fucking god, she’s fingering herself with fucking Matty Healy.

He seems to be thinking the same whirlwind of thoughts, locked gaze on the spectacle of them between her thighs, working together for perhaps the first time ever.

Alana puppeteers him, pumping their joined fingers together. She’s quick to drive herself to the edge, already so restless and aware and turned on, constantly teetering the cliff he refuses to give her. She knows her best spots anyway, knows how to get herself off quick and easy.

“Are you gonna come for me?” Matty asks, still reveling in the sight of them. Alana nods eagerly. “Are you sure?”

He rips their fingers out of her again. Alana smothers a sob, pain tingling the tips of her. She wants it so badly.

Matty sucks her wet fingers clean, twirling his tongue around her metal ring. “Come on, Alana. Don’t you trust me?” She shakes her head childishly.

She thinks she might go insane. How fitting, completely going off her rockers because of Matty fucking Healy. Her entire body is in a frenzy, feverish and electrified, buzzing with stolen orgasms. He could blow on a bitten nipple and she’s half convinced she’d come on the spot.

But he’s not going to, is he? Alana pouts pitifully to herself, cursing the chess games she plays and then has to suffer from. She knows she put herself in this situation, pushed him too far and now has to watch as he whips back tenfold like a tense elastic.

All she can do is follow along, pleading and praying and begging for a release he’s just not giving her.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay,” Matty coos.

“Please. Please, I can’t—” Alana shakes her head. “I’m so close. Please, let me come.”

He racks two hands through the tangled mess of her hair. “You’re so pretty when you beg. If only they could hear you. If only they knew how fucking pathetic you are for me.”

Alana cries, nodding just to please him, “I am. I am.” She throbs around nothing. “Fuck me, please.”

Matty pouts at her. “See, it’s not so hard.”

He pushes her from her perch on the countertop, catching her as her legs tremble beneath her weight. He leaves her no time to adjust to gravity again, turning her hips around and bending her over the sink.

She gasps at the cold feel of the marble on her tits. His hand presses strongly between her shoulder blades. Alana manages to throw a look back his way, mesmerized by the way he undoes his buckle with one hand, by the strings of curls falling over his forehead, by his swollen, red lips parting as he pants.

By his cock as he pushes his trousers just down enough to reveal it, hard and leaking, swerving just right.

Alana bites her lip, eyes rolling at the sheer idea of it.

“‘Gonna fucking ruin you,” he mutters more to himself than her.

Of course, she can’t stop herself from breathing back, “Haven’t managed to yet.”

He tsks, spanking her naked ass. It rings deliciously down her leg. “Can’t ever stop bratting.” She giggles giddily, shaking her head.

Matty grabs himself by the base, guiding himself between her thighs. His tip rubs at her dripping entrance, still teasing her when she’s near ready to explode from the lack of him.

“Matty…” Alana warns.

He chuckles. “God, you’re impatient.” He thrusts into her, bottoming out.

A scream rips out of her throat. Alana slams her hand against the counter. How fucking right he fits, curving just perfectly inside of her. She bites her tongue, bliss loosening all her tense muscles.

No matter how fucking shit this thing with him is, this, him inside of her, will always be holy.

Matty grabs her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, and pounds into her. He has a wild, brutal rhythm going on, sliding in and out of her before she can register any of them, until all she knows is to moan, pleases and so goods and mores falling off her lips before she can think them.

His skin slaps against her, the rough leather of his belt hitting her ass with each stroke. Mostly, he’s silent for once, too. Pretty, mean words robbed from his throat as he grunts and whines openly. How victorious it makes Alana feel, drowning in the sounds of him like he’s not invading every inch of her. Like she’s won.

Her tongue burns. Ecstasy weeps down her spine. She clenches around him, again and again. “Matty—” She warns, out of breath. She’s learned her lesson. “Matty, I’m—”

“I know, baby.” He whispers hotly, driving into her faster. “What a good girl. Are you gonna say please?”

“Please,” she yells, face scrunching, cunt throbbing as she—

Her walls close around nothing. Alana chokes at the lack of him, too sudden and too quick for her to register until it’s too late. Matty robbed her of an astronomical orgasm again.

She lays there pitiful, pillaged of all fight. Her cheeks feel wet and scratchy and— oh, God, she’s actually crying.

“Oh, baby,” Matty coos, taking her arms and dragging her into the warmth of his body. Her head rolls on his shoulder, letting him play her like his favorite ragdoll. He wipes at her tears. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s too much.”

“You can handle it.” He grabs a handful of her tits, using his other hand to guide her vision to the bathroom mirror. “Look at you,” he whispers. “Look how fucking beautiful you look.”

Alana’s hair is a nest, pretty layers tangled around her face. Her face is flushed; eyeliner dripping down her eyes, lipstick smearing her chin, cheeks red from leftover blush and those pathetic tears. Her chest is blotched scarlet, freckles of growing bruises littering her skin. She’s a mess.

Yet, Matty looks at her with devotion. I’m beautiful. I’m beautiful.

He works slowly into her. His hips grind against her ass, deliciously reverbing in her cunt. Just this is enough to send burning ecstasy down her limbs. It’s this heady mix of pure pleasure and the striking fear that he won’t let her have it that reigns over her head.

Matty makes heavy eye contact in the reflection of the mirror. Pupils dark and penetrating, watching her every hitched breath with fascination. He wants her so much, it chokes her.

His strokes grow faster. Alana whimpers, gripping his arm, terrified of the orgasm building inside of her. She’s run out of words to beg with. All there’s left is pleading eyes, still wet with tears.

Matty sees the message loud and clear. “Shhh,” he whispers. “Trust me. You have to trust me.”

Alana shakes her head. Trusting him is an impossible task, bigger and grander than he’s ever demanded of her. She can’t. She can’t let herself.

He snaps inside of her, cruel and relentless, building her back to that epic cliff. He noses the side of her neck, moaning over and over, “Just trust me. Come on, baby. You have to trust me.” He licks her cheek, shushing in her ear. "Just trust me. Just trust me."

She thinks it’s the meanest he’s ever been with her. Demanding her to trust him at her most vulnerable when it’s him— and it’s her— and she can’t— and she has to.

He's irredeemably cruel. Doesn't he know that he's asking the world of her? How can he ask her to just trust him?

Still, that incessant burning edge. Pression building in her stomach. He presses over her belly, cooing, “Pretty girl.”

She wants it so bad. She wants him so bad. He'll give it to her. She just has to believe that he'll—

Her face scrunch and—

Wiping waves of oblivion. Her head falls into his shoulder, jaw growing slack. Hot, white pleasure strikes the deepest parts of her. Her fingertips buzz, oxygen just a little sweeter, just a little lighter.

Her brain loses all coherent thoughts. She’s a mess of burning fire, licking up her limbs, screaming uselessly Matty, Matty, Matty. It’s all her heart can chant, crashing down a cliff. She smashes to the ground, gracelessly and furiously. Doesn’t stick any kind of landing; just pure, unfiltered ecstasy.

This is why Alana falls into him all the time. Why she keeps this ridiculous tango, choking and poisonous. For the momentary relief of not existing, of just being a body in his skillful hands. She purrs, relieved of any burden, relieved of him, even.

Matty follows quickly after her, spilling inside of her with the sweetest moans she’s ever heard. She laughs happily, gravity still very far from her.

He lingers inside of her, dropping his head on her shoulder, breathing heavily against her naked skin.

“Fuck, Alana.”

“Fuck, Matty.” He chuckles, rubbing his forehead lazily against her. Alana peeks one eye open, nervously watching the ruins of them after their catastrophic pass through each other. “We’re a mess,” she laughs.

It’s always strangely like this when they’re done. Light and breezy. Easy.

Matty smirks, kissing her shoulder. “Mostly you.”

She slaps him, laughing an offended gasp. “Shut up!”

He thrusts out of her. Cum leaks down her thighs, which only makes her vaguely blush. Matty tucks himself back in his trousers, buckling his belt. He works at his half-unbuttoned shirt next, then his forgotten jacket kicked at their feet. Alana watches him solemnly.

When he’s done with himself, he turns her back to him. With gentle fingers, rough at the tips but oh so careful with her, he lowers the skirt of her dress, raising the cups over her bare breasts again. It’s weird to have him like this. Sort of sweet.

He kisses her nose, then smiles ruefully. “See ya.”

Alana frowns as he steps away from her. “What? That’s it?”

He looks back at her, tightening his tie. He arches a bored eyebrow. “What? Did you want to suck my dick clean?”

Alana’s lips part in affront. Fucking Matty Healy. Asking her to trust him just to slap her in the face. She can't believe she considered him any kind of sweet. Considered them anything but an unwatchable forest fire spreading in front of their very eyes.

“Only to bite it off,” she spits, fists clenching in anger.

He smirks. “Kinky.” He opens the door, stepping through. It slams behind him.

It’s dark and cold in the bathroom. Alana crosses her arms, craving a drink and a cigarette. God, she’s a fucking mess.

#THIS IS FOUL #terrible people being terrible and sexy together!!#goodluck yall #matty healy smut #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #imagine #smut #writing #to dust and bones #ewb

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elysianightsss · 2 years ago

Note

Hear me out: Prince! Techno with a Beauty and the Beast vibe 👀👀

Prince!Techno x reader

Fantasy reality

Okay it’s done, finally. I have proof read this like ten times so I’m an idiot if there’s any mistakes😂

Warnings: 18+, we are a cold bitch to begin with, slow burn, smut, NSFW, murder, blood, there will be character descriptions in here that match the time it’s set so if you don’t have long hair just imagine ;), fantasy cultural differences, plus GOT references, this shit it long, this is probably not what you asked for but it’s what my mind came up with.

Winter is coming, that you were sure of. Too many people shivered in the streets, too much coal and wood was being burnt to save from the nasty chill of winter. Although you didn’t mind it. Taking a stroll through your now frozen gardens had given you the most pleasure you’d felt in months. Ever since your father promised you to the Prince of Rinesdale.

Your guards heavy footsteps thumbed behind you as you walked, their metal armour creaking when they moved. The sound made you sigh as your leather gloved hand plucked a black rose from one of your many rose bushes. Your long wavy yet partly braided hair blew in the cold wind leading one of your guards to speak up, “My lady it is far to cold to be out here, your father wouldn’t like it.”

“Then it’s a good think he isn’t here, Ser Ren.” Your sharply formed words make the guard step back into line with the other three, his eyes however stay on your figure examining the dark black cloak you wore over your dark black dress, your hair falling down your back. They linger for a moment before they’re torn away by your brothers new bride.

“Sister!” You internally groan at the sound of your new sister in law, her happy and giddy energy making your stomach churn as she links her arm with yours making you drop your rose.

“I heard about your marriage to the Prince! How amazing!” She squealed like a little girl coming to stand in front of you stomping your black petals into the ground.

“Amazing? How so?” Your tone is harsh and maybe you should have tried to soften it for the halfwit but you can’t find it in yourself to do so.

“Well it’s the Prince which means you’ll get to be Queen one day.” She giggled smiling a little too much, “and that would be very exciting for you.” her hand reaches up to push a piece of hair behind your ear but you catch her wrist in a tight grip before she can.

“If you ever call me sister again, I’ll have you drawn and quartered.” The words scare her but your cold eyes are what’s making the girl shake in your hold, she whimpers and soon she’s gone.

“My lady I don’t think that was wise.” Ser Ren mumbles once again a little closer to you than you both know he should be. You whip around your eyes blazing with wildfire, the ruthless dangerous guard steps back as if burned.

“You are not here to tell me what you think, you are here to guard me.” You spit through gritted teeth trying to control your anger, the same anger that’s been bubbling since summer last, since the announcement. Any little thing threatening it to bubble over and you’re not the only one who notices.

“You’ve not been the same since the announcement of your betrothal My lady.” The bald and rather plump priest speaks walking slowly beside you, his devotion to your father clear in his voice. The only reason he’s here is because your father ordered it.

“No? Gosh how strange that I’m not happy about being sold like a piece of meat by the man who’s supposed to love me.” You scoff looking around the cold gardens.

“You know your father loves you very much, he’s only doing what he thinks is best.” The priest speaks but all you hear is your father’s voice ringing in your ears.

“Oh yes? Then where is he? Why isn’t he here? Oh that’s right, he’s forging the alliance with the Blades and I’m to be the prize of it all, like a succulent pig at a feast. May as well stick the apple in my mouth now.” You rant watching the older man smile slightly.

“There’s so much of your mother in you.” He smiled softly, fondness in his eyes.

“I asked you never to speak about her with me.” Your voice is suddenly small and you feel it too. Small and weak when your weakness is suddenly brought to light once more.

Your mother The first lady Draygon. Stark black hair, wonderful figure, beauty screamed from her. It was a tragedy when she was murdered, your father destroyed the men who did it. Her statue resides in the crypt that runs below your cold home and you visit it every chance you get.

“I apologise Lady Draygon, you won’t hear me speak of it again. I must get back to the temple soon, I have only come to inform you that your departure will be tomorrow at dawn. Good day my lady and safe travels.” The priest leaves before you can argue knowing that was what was coming.

“Fuck.”

“My lady-“

“Oh stick a sock in it Ren.” You grunt marching off trying to ignore the quickened sound of those footsteps until your wooden door is slammed right in their faces. A place they can’t enter. A place that is entirely your own, you revel in it for tomorrow you’re certain you’ll never have anything like it again.

—

Your goodbye from your brother wasn’t much, though you suppose after threatening his wife it was what it ought to have been. The carriage ride then the boat ride then the other carriage ride was tedious and far too long in your opinion. You were bored and a bored Lady Draygon was never a good thing.

You heard the rustle and bustle of life, people making a fuss as your carriage came to a stop outside the Gold Keep, your guard helping you step out. The city of Rinesdale was very large, built with sturdy stone and brick. The castle was the biggest building here you’d noticed, your cold eyes purposely ignoring the group of people that stood in front of it. Royals.

Your midnight coloured dress stood out amongst the bright reds and yellows and oranges that plagued the city. It was a statement along with how you wore your hair regardless if your handmaiden had advised you otherwise. You wore it in the Northern way, where you were from, where you were now was the South and you would not conform to their ways despite being betrothed to a southerner.

“Lady Draygon what an honour it is to have you with us.” The Queen was the first to speak after you climbed the steps and curtsied to the southern royals.

“The honour is mine, Your Grace.” You smile but you’re one hundred percent sure she can tell it’s fake.

“You were only a babe the last time I saw you.” The kings accent is strong and it makes a real smile pull at your lips, the same accent as your mother had.

“I’ve grown since then your majesty.” I joke and he lets out a hearty chuckle, it’s deep and comes from his chest making his round belly shake.

“Indeed you have my dear, come and meet your betrothed.” He smiles his voice turning slightly serious as he eyes my four guards behind me, respecting them with a nod.

“Lady Draygon, this is Prince Techno, the fourth Blade to sit on the Silver throne, a knight of the white realm and my son.” The king’s chest swells with pride when Techno steps forward grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. The feel of his lips against your skin has shivers running down your spine.

Only when he stands do you manage to get a real good look at him and by the gods he was gorgeous. A true Prince if you ever saw one, his long wavy pink hair with braids in it was a little like yours but styled the southern way. His ruby eyes, his sharp face, pale skin. He was big too, he almost looked a little too big to be a royal, more like a kings guard or knight, someone who’s sees regular action. Even through his belted tunic, breeches and royal coat you could tell he was all muscle. You were just hoping that he was brains too.

“My lady, may I say you are beautiful.” The prince’s monotone voice has a need beginning to grind inside you that you’ve never felt before.

“I think you just did.” You quip pulling your hand away from his touch and turning to the king. “If you please your Majesty, might I see my father?” You try to be as polite as you can speaking over the crowd that cheering in the background.

“He did not tell you child? He left for Fell yesterday.” The king said with a small frown that seemed to be contagious for all the Blades now wore it even the two little princesses that stood next to Techno, his sisters.

“No, he didn’t tell me a thing.” You push a tight smile onto your face, it didn’t stay there for long at all. You know why your father didn’t tell you he was returning from where you’d just come from, he didn’t want to deal with your wrath. It said so in the letter that was left in your new quarters.

“Well fuck.” You grunt sitting down on your bed and scrunching up the letter in your hand, the chambers were nice enough but you didn’t take much time to examine them. You knew you’d be moving rooms once you’re married anyway so it hardly mattered what it looked like.

The sound of a knock at your door had you standing to attention, “yes?”

“It’s Prince Techno my lady.” The deep voice echoed in the hallway.

“Come in.” You sigh trying to force yourself to sound even remotely happy. The door opens and Ser Ren gives you a look but you give a subtle shake of your head, you knew how to protect yourself if anything happened and with that the door shut.

Techno looked almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself, the awkwardness in the air was pungent. “I apologise if I interrupted anything.” He said gesturing to the scrunched up parchment in your hand.

“It’s quite alright my Lord, I had already finished reading it when you knocked.” You cleared your throat placing the paper on your bed.

“It must be odd coming here.” He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yes, it’s um rather warm compared to what im used to.” You reply.

“Do you miss it?” He asked an underlining hopefulness in his voice, hoping for you to say no but he knows you won’t.

“Yes. I do, very much. Why are you here may I ask?” You snap and although it’s a little too subtle for others to pick up on, he does.

“You are to be my wife soon, I suppose I wanted to get to know the woman who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.” He answered searching your face for any feeling and coming up empty.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of time for that.” You don’t smile this time having had enough of those pleasantries. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get ready for dinner.” He looks a little shocked at your answer but nods and leaves you.

You were cold he had assessed, certainly suited Fell but now you were here in Rinesdale and you were to be his Queen one day. How was he to break through your tough exterior? How was he to tame the beast inside you? Only time would tell but he hoped he could do it.

Seeing how his mother was walked all over by his father while said father got drunk, ate too much and fucked too many whores. He didn’t want to be like that, he didn’t want his marriage to be like that. He was determined it wouldn’t be, but by the gods how was he supposed to tell you of his own beast? He was sure that your father had not told you of what he became once a month on the nights of the red moon.

No, right now getting to know you and wooing you were far more important than anything else. He would deal with his family line’s secret after you’d fallen in love with him. It was the safest option.

The feast they called dinner went by deathly slow, dancing, drinking and eating was enjoyed by everyone. Everyone in the castle showing signs of merriment, the king a little too much in your opinion.

You were all too happy to leave. You excused yourself to the bathroom and soon after found yourself in the gardens. They weren’t frozen nor did they sprout your beautiful black roses but they seemed nice enough under the stars.

Your stroll was soon interrupted by none other than the man you had been promised to. “I saw you slip out and wondered where you had gone.” He explained when you asked him why he wasn’t at the feast.

You nodded taking his arm when he offered it to once more walk. You noticed he seemed on edge and truth be told he was. He was getting agitated for the blood moon would soon be upon him. His father told him a few years ago that there were several things he could do leading up to the time but they were all vulgar and he refused them. He didn’t want to get drunk or fuck or kill. So he didn’t.

“Are you alright My Lord?” You asked blinking up at him, your cautious eyes watching him carefully. The creaking of heavy metal behind you gave you a reassurance that you were safe calming your beating heart.

“Yes I’m quite alright just a bit too much to drink I think, and please call me Techno.” He confessed with a guilty smile that made you giggle.

“Most men feel guilty for more than having too much to drink.” You smile, maybe you had had too much to drink too?

“I’m glad to be one of the few that feel guilty for less.” He smirks giving your hand a gently squeeze. You both continued to walk around the gardens until you became tired, Techno escorted you to your chambers and bid you goodnight.

“My Lord? Where are you going?” You asked seeing the king and the kings guard all on horses outside the Gold Keep. You had become more familiar with the castle in the past two months you’d been there.

“Ah my lady, a hunting trip. We shall be back tomorrow. I’ll bring you back a present.” Techno winked, his masculine spiced scent making you light headed yet you managed a goodbye.

“Until tomorrow then my Lord.” You smiled softly, watching his face soften significantly.

“Until tomorrow my lady.” He kissed your knuckles before jumping on his horse and galloping away.

Tomorrow was such a long time you had concluded as you tossed and turned the night away under the red moonlight but when it came Techno was true to his word. His clothes were a little torn and bloodied but he brought you back some soft pelts of whatever animal he had clearly hunted.

The same pelts that now graced your bed and kept you warm now that the temperature had dropped a little signalling that Winter had arrived in Rinesdale. There was no snow but it was colder for certain, making all the women wear long sleeved dresses and the men adorning their cloaks a little longer.

You had remained wearing dark colours the entire time you were in Rinesdale, a detail the Queen certainly hadn’t missed. “Do you intend on wearing those darknesses forever?” She asked, her tone a little too harsh and her words a little too slurred to assume she was sober. A golden goblet in her hand as she stared at you from across the dinner table where you and Techno and all his family sat eating.

“They are colours that remind me of home.” You replied with a smile trying to make her see you came in peace. The past month her kindness to you had dulled.

“This is your home now. You should-“

“She can wear whatever she’d like mother, leave it alone.” Techno grunted shutting the Queen down.

“I meant no offence-“

“No harm done my lady.” Techno looked at you with all seriousness his hand gripping yours to stroke his thumb over your skin. The rest of the dinner was tense, you received hateful glances from the Queen while the king got drunk and started to flirt with one of the maids at that point Techno gripped your hand once more and dragged you away.

You walked arm in arm around the large castle sometimes talking, sometimes not but either way you felt soothed and peaceful. You both stopped at a small balcony sitting down on a bench so you could overlook the city.

“Your guard follows you everywhere.” Techno chuckles glancing at Ser Ren, “most ladies have handmaidens instead.” He jokes his large fingers entwining with yours.

“What good is a handmaiden if my life is in danger?” You replied with a little laugh, “I’ve know Ser Ren since I was a child, he protected my older brother and when I was born he swore to protect me.”

“Well I’m glad you’ll have someone to protect you when I’m not around.” He said pushing some hair behind your ear making you turn to face him, your eyes meet and your entranced just as much as he is.

“My Lord.” You sigh not being able to look away as he leans in closer and closer until your lips are barely touching.

“How many times must I ask you to call me Techno?” He breathes smashing his lips on yours stealing a moan from your throat and swallowing it hoping to treasure it forever. It’s intoxicating and perfect all at once. To feel so satisfied and unsatisfied at the same time, both of your hands scramble for purchase on each other’s bodies.

His arm hooks around your waist pulling you carelessly close, his other hand tangling in your hair while yours grip at his royal coat, clawing at the material. You feel it as he deepens the kiss, feel the ice around your heart melting and seven hells it feels so good. Feels good to be held and kissed and caressed by a man.

His lips suck on your own, his mouth hot and unforgiving as he continues to kiss you until your head is swirling and you know your cunt is soaked. If this is what just a kiss can do you’d love to see what else he can achieve.

“My Prince, my lady. A Lord Grytion to see you.” The words from Ser Ren have you pulling apart panting, breathing each other’s air. Even when the Lord comes onto the balcony with you Techno doesn’t let you go, doesn’t tear his eyes away from your face even when you blink up at the man you think you recognise.

He bows before he begins to speak, “My Prince, Lady Draygon, I’ve simply come to give you my best wishes on your marriage. I hope you two are very happy together.”

Even as the man speaks Techno doesn’t look away, his large hand coming up to stroke his thumb against your cheek, “You can tell my mother that if she wishes to spy on me and my betrothed then she should send someone I don’t know is her spy.” Techno grunts red eyes darting all around your face even though you’re looking at the man who clears his throat bows and leave without another word.

“Where were we?” He grins, it’s cheeky and cocky but it makes you giggle and lean back into his eyes warm embrace, lips slotting against his once more. He can’t stop the groan that escapes him at finally feeling you against him, so pretty and all for him.

Another week passed by and you find yourself in the gardens once more, Techno being the one who led you here this time. You are pleasantly surprised by what the Prince is wearing today, his toned and large body graced with black. Your colours, Fell colours. If you didn’t know any better you would call him Lord Draygon.

“What is that?” You ask gesturing to whatever he was holding on a red velvet pillow, it was an odd shape and covered with a yellow cloth.

“It’s a gift.” He smiled sitting beside you under the gazebo, wood being entwined and tangled with vines and flowers. You frown your gaze flickering to his face then back to the object, he chuckles pulling the yellow sheet away. What’s underneath makes your mouth open, breath picking up at the pure beauty.

A rose standing on it’s own underneath a glass dome.

“It’s gorgeous.” You smile, fingers itching to touch it.

“It’s yours my lady.” He hands the pillow to you letting you take it from him, but it’s so fragile you feel scared to hold it making you place it on the table in front of you.

“I also have some news.” He grimaces when your happy eyes turn cold and stick to him like glue.

“What news?” You ask, an eyebrow raising when he stands walking towards the stone balcony, one that overlooks the large ocean surrounding Rinesdale.

“We will be wed next week, my father just informed me.” He speaks so softly watching your reaction cautiously. Honestly your feelings are conflicted, you are really starting to feel something for Techno but you’re not sure that you want to be married. Not like you have a say in the matter however.

“Alright.” You smile but it’s a little forced as you push yourself from your chair and move next to him. Techno picks up on it instantly, his fingers coming up to push hair behind your ear and cup your cheek. Your eyes meeting his rubies.

“I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make you feel loved, cherished and wanted. I will protect you and put you and any children we may have first in every decision I make. I will be yours just as you will be mine. No other woman will ever so much as kiss me. No one but you my lady, my love, my future Queen.” His sincerity shone in his eyes, it made the last little bit of ice melt away but you tried to grip onto it as hard as you could for the continued feeling of safety.

“I Thankyou for the promises you are making to me my lor- Techno. And I in no way want to seem rude or harsh to you but I can only believe your promises when I see that they are upheld.” You speak slowly and carefully as not to upset him.

“I understand, you don’t have to believe me now. I will spend the rest of our days proving it to you my sweet sweet girl.” His last words are whispered against the skin of your cheek before he pressed his lips to yours. They capture all of your happy sighs and moans before moving down to caress your neck.

“Techno.” You gasp so softly and he swears it’s the most precious thing he’s ever heard. He wants to devote all his time to making you gasp his name again just like that. His teeth rake over the tender spot where your neck and shoulders meet and you can’t stop your knees from buckling thank the gods for Techno holding you up.

It’s at that moment when he feels your body give in so he’s the only thing supporting you, when he hears you moan so fucking sexily, that’s when he knows he’s going to ruin you for any other man. He wants to be the only man in the entire world who can satisfy your needs. You will never even be able to think about going to anyone else, because of him.

But all good things and thoughts must come to an end, “My lady, your Father has just arrived.” Ser Ren calls to you and Techno feels your body become tense. He pulls back from your neck to stare into your eyes.

“Everything alright my lady?” He asks frowning a little.

“Yes, I just haven’t seen my father in a while and as much as I can handle him, I never know what mood he’s going to be in.” You laughed making him laugh too.

Techno escorts you to the front of the Gold Keep where your Father greets you with a smile after greeting the royal family. “I’ll catch up with you later my darling daughter.” He says before he and the king walk away together. They’d been friends for many years.

The Queen leaves the front with her daughters not looking best pleased, this was going to be an entertaining week that was for sure.

The feast that was held that night was glorious but once again it was too many people, too much wine and food and noise and the king flirting. “Want to leave?” Techno grumbles in your ear his golden cloak making him look so handsome.

“Gods yes please.” You groan missing the way his eyes light up when he takes your hand and leads you away from all the noise. The lanterns are lit creating the perfect ambiance for another leisurely stroll arm in arm except this one you’re a little buzzed from the tonight’s fruity wine.

“Techno.” Your voice is a little lighter but you’re fully aware of everything going on around you especially when he turns to you.

“Yes my love?” The new term of endearment has your cheeks heating up and your thighs quivering.

“Will you do something for me?” You ask just as you turn round a corner that’s a little darker than all the rest.

“Anything.” He replies not expecting you to grip onto his gold and red patterned cloak and pull him against you, your back pressed against the cold stone castle wall. Out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Ren with his back to you both on the look out for if someone comes by.

“Kiss me.” It’s not a request anymore, it’s a demand from lover to lover, from wife to husband, from Queen to King.

It brings a grin to his face, the Prince flashing his pearly whites before he brings your body against his kissing you passionately. Your thoughts were a mess as both of his hands grip onto your hips making sure they’re flush against his, he wants you to feel how much he wants you not that you can through your dress.

“Touch me.” You surprise yourself as well as Techno when you say those words, you conclude that you maybe have said them a little too loud due to the quick creak of metal armour.

“My lady I don’t think, we shouldn’t until we’re married.” Techno tries his hardest to grasp onto what’s left of his self control but one look in your needy eyes and he’s done.

Techno leans in leaving open mouthed kisses down your neck and your breathing starts to pick up, your hands gripping his cloak for an anchor while you moan. A hand that’s slow and hesitant hikes up the skirt of your dress gently and makes its way in between your legs, thick knuckles glide through your wet folds rubbing over the small nub.

The ambience and desire making everything heightened. His touch felt hotter. His kisses softer. His hold tighter. You felt as though you were going to burst from the passion. Basic primal instinct taking over, causing you to ignore the fact you were in a dark corner of the Gold Keep with your guard just meters away from you. You wanted him.

And that’s all that mattered. Moans slipped from your mouth, to which he covered it with his free hand. You pressed your head back against the wall as he slipped his fingers inside you, pumping slow and careful his rubies staring down at you with nothing but pure hunger.

“That’s it, just take it my Queen.” He groans, only loud enough for you to hear with his lips pressed against the shell of your ear while he continues to ruin you with his fingers. It’s the first time a man has ever touched you like this and fuck it feels so good. So good you sob against his hand hips bucking for him to faster and he does.

His fingers move quicker and skilfully, a question tugging in the back of your mind that you push away for now. Right now you’re feeling too much to think, your body burning with need for the orgasm to wash over you.

“Your Grace there are people coming this way, I suggest you hurry up or stop your little transgression.” Ser Ren says making your eyes fling open, you’d forgotten he was there. And for some reason his words make you clench around Techno’s fingers that curl in a come here motion until your eyes roll back and your cumming all over them.

“Come back to me sweet thing, there you go.” Techno coos softly until your eyes flutter open, blinking up at him, watching him remove his fingers from you only to put them against his lips, sinfully licking them clean with a groan at how you tasted. “Our wedding night will certainly be a night to remember my beautiful woman.”

And as if you and time couldn’t wait any longer your wedding day was here, the bells ringing signally to all those in Rinesdale that today would be the day the Prince gets married.

“Don’t be nervous my lady, the Prince is half in love with you already.” Your handmaiden comments receiving a frown from you from where you stood on a little podium. She being knelt by your feet straightening your hem.

“I’m not nervous. A Lady of Draygon doesn’t get nervous.” You snap making her nod quickly as she got up to tighten your corset. It was probably the tightest it has ever been in your entire life, making your waist singe and your hips puff out. She brought the last layer of the dress, helping you slip it on over your under dress. It was a gorgeous dark white, you could even compare it to a light grey or silver.

She helped you clip your long veil into your half braided hair, the other parts of it falling down your body in curls. Your gaze never left the mirror you stood in front of, you felt truly like a royal, truly like the princess you’ll become.

“Your mother would have loved to be here.” Your father says with a sad smile his hands cupping your cheeks as you wait outside the large doors that lead inside the Gold Keep.

“I miss her.” You blink away the tears that threaten to ruin your happiness.

“I do too.” He mutters kissing your cheek, it’s then that the big doors open and the music begins to play. Your father links your arm with his and soon you’re walking your way down the steps and down the isle.

You notice your brother and his wife who looks swollen with his child and give them a nod. The Queen is glaring at you, but you suppose that it’s understandable, next week Techno and you are supposed to be pronounced King and Queen. The idea makes you nervous but not as nervous as you feel when you finally look up at your husband to be.

His beautiful long hair braided all southern like, his brown breeches, a beautiful gold and black over coat that was graced with a cloak. His red eyes were sparkling with want as they gazed over you, a smile pulling at his lips.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” The priest says making Techno un attach his cloak and cover your shoulders with it before taking your hand in his.

“Your Grace, Your Grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife.” The priest speaks loud and his voice booms while he ties the ribbon of one around your hands that are holding one another.

“Let it be known that The Lady of the house Draygon and The Lord of the house Blade are one heart, one flesh, one soul, cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.” Techno announces letting all in the crowd know before his lips land on yours, taking them for himself. It’s quick and chaste especially compared to the other night but enough to stir up the gentle claps of congratulations.

It was truly a grand celebration, nobles and royals from all over came to celebrate and feast. The Gold Keep was loud with happiness coursing through it, nothing compared to what you were feeling.

“Are you happy my love?” Techno asks the back of his knuckles caressing your heated cheeks.

“Yes, I actually am.” You smile brightly at him and in turn he smiles back just as happy.

“Time for the bedding ceremony!” The drunk king shouted a whore on his arm as he did so, “men help the new princess remove-“

“Enough!” Techno’s deep voice is the loudest you’ve ever heard it, his knuckles turning white while he glared at his father, from where he’s stood up next to you. “There will be no bedding ceremony.” Techno grunts into the silence not even looking around to see all the shocked people at his outburst.

No, instead his eyes land on you sitting in your chair next to him. He extends his hand for you and immediately you take it letting him guide you out of your chair. What he does next is definitely the surprise, Techno takes you in his arms holding you bridal style as he carries you out of the throne room.

You glance over his shoulder your eyes temporarily taking in Ser Ren in all his black metallic glory before they look ahead seeing your destination. Techno’s room. Now your room.

He kicks open the door and carries you across the threshold dropping you onto the bed making you giggle. “Keep the halls clear my good ser.” Techno says to Ser Ren with a smirk before closing the door and latching it to lock it.

It’s quick and hurried but your husband helps you with your dress, pulling at the strings of the corset and pushing at the layers until there’s nothing left. Not a single stitch on you.

Techno’s hands slide up your body cupping your breasts, his thumbs tweaking and rubbing your nipples. You whimper loving the feeling of his hands on you, it’s new and it’s euphoric. Just to be touched, showered with pure want and love. You only have to blink before you’re on your four poster bed splayed out for the hungry prince in front of you.

Soon enough he’s ridding himself of his clothes, letting you admire his striking body. His arm muscles rippling as he grips the top of the bed frame leaning forward towering over you. Your new husband sliding down to his knees before he pulls you to the end of the bed.

He grunts his thick long index finger taps on your clit, your hips jerking when he does, sensitive with need.

His head lulls to the side, his cheek smushing against the inside of your thigh “You’re absolutely gorgeous wife.” He sighs, the tip of his finger spelling out his name on your bundle of nerves. His piercing eyes meet yours and your breath gets caught in your throat, the lust swirling in his dark eyes is so enticing.

A silent ‘fuck yes’ paints itself on his face, his brow furrowed in pure amazement at the sight of your glistening pussy.

Your clit pulses erratically anticipating his next move. It’s quick and it makes you jump but then you’re whining into the air, because how can you not when he’s sucking you into his mouth like a starved man. Your body burns with pleasure but it’s oh so delicious his tongue working wonders on your cunt.

“Please Tec-“ he pulls off you with a soft pop stopping your begging. His lips smack together as his eyes leave yours once more, the pad of his thumb sliding through your folds. He grunts leaning forward pressing his nose against you with a sharp inhale.

Techno looks up his crimson eyes finding yours at the exact moment his mouth latches onto you once more. It feels so good it hurts, the heat from his mouth has you twisting and squirming.

You sob, your body starting to shake when he pushes two ring adorned fingers inside you, the cold metal making you gasp. They rub along your velvety walls bringing a new wave of pleasure, the feeling builds becoming more intense with every thrust.

His tongue laps at your clit while he searches and searches until you squeal “There it is”, he finds exactly what he was looking for striking the spot over and over again watching your back arch off the bed. Curses slipping out when you gush all over his hand just like he knew you would.

You excepted him to move away, to release you from his torturous mouth but he doesn’t. The Prince stays, the tip of his tongue flicking against you, the sensitivity pulling whines and whimpers from you.

You think it was three, no four definitely four orgasms heck you lost count after the first. Your body tired but fuck do you need his cock more then anything. You lay on your side gripping the sheets so tightly as Techno slides in behind you, his arms pulling you taut against him and you mewl.

“I know sweet girl I know you just have to let me in is all, nothing more.” He strokes your hair moving it out the way so he can press his cheek to yours, it’s so intimate and sweet. And yet when he lifts up your left leg, bending it at the knee so he can slip his ridged veiny shaft inside your tight cunt. You feel the sweet sweet burn of the orgasmic stretch that is so new but so good.

You just about manage to make out your wedding gown discarded on the floor before your vision blurs and tears streak down your cheeks meeting the dried ones that had already fallen earlier with your over sensitivity. He feels so fucking good, with each thrust you’re pushed closer to the edge.

Your moans and his mixing together in the late evening air, his pace building dramatically, becoming more and more intense the longer he fucks you. It’s brutish, rough and bare. Yet loving and gentle at the same time. “I will love you til the last petal falls, sweet girl.” He groans thrusting in and out of you so fucking delicately it has you crying. “And that rose will never wilt.” He hums in your ear kissing your cheek.

“Yes right there don’t stop!” You don’t care how loud you’re being, you don’t care who hears you, especially not when his swollen tip glides over the spot inside you, your body goes still and you can’t do anything except let it happen.

And you do, you let the tsunami of pleasure crash into you almost painfully, it pumps through your viens absolutely demolishing what’s left of your energy. You’re barely awake when warmth blooms inside you a deep groan rumbling against your cheek, the rose beside your bed in the glass dome long forgotten.

A kiss to the top of your head and you’re out like a light unaware of the large hand rubbing at your tummy, the sky completely dark now, unaware of the thoughts bubbling in Techno’s head as he watches your chest slowly rise and fall. It lulls him to sleep, pulls him into a world that is entirely his own.

Neither of you aware of the red tint the moon was starting to have.

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