#hope this is angsty enough p
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starsarefire824 · 2 years ago
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Ahhh for writing prompts: how does angst sound?? Idk what specific flavor of angst, but i've been craving it lately, and i'm sure you've got some cool take on it brewing in your head :D
“Will!” Mike calls out as the huge metal door of their high school almost hits him in the face. Will shoved it open so hard that it slammed loudly into the brick wall with a heavy thrash. The October night is chilly and Mike shivers when the brisk air hits his cheeks. It’s almost a reprieve from the heat of the gym where their last Homecoming dance was still going on. And when Mike wasn’t tugging at his collar and wiping away sweat from his forehead, he had spent his time trying not to stare at Will; trying not to notice how he had grown more and more upset with each song that played; trying not to notice how he got more and more quiet and avoided his gaze and didn’t laugh when the Party joked around at their table. Tried not to notice the only time he even remotely engaged was when Lucas had slipped the flask Max had stolen from her mom underneath the table. 
It’s quiet outside, the only sound is the rustling of trees in the wind and the dampened beat of a Madonna song thumping from the gym. 
“Will! Come on man. Stop!” Mike quickens his pace, his shoes slapping against the sidewalk loudly when he finally catches up to Will. He tugs at his sleeve and Will shrugs him off, slapping his arm away as he turns forcefully on his heels. 
“No Mike! I just want to go home—-” Mike stops in his tracks when he sees Will’s eyes, red rimmed and tears streaming down his face. He wipes them roughly away with the back of his palms. 
Mike throws his arms out, frustrated. “How are you going to get home right now? You’re being ridiculous.” 
“Ridiculous,” Will scoffs angrily and rolls his eyes, then glares at him. “I’ll walk,” he continues, quickly turning back around and stomping off toward where the fence leads to the woods that lead to his house. 
“Dude, you can’t walk! That’s like a full hour and you don’t have your coat.” 
“Why do you even care, Mike?!” Will challenges bitterly and turns around again to face him directly, his gaze hard and seething under his sadness. Mike tries not to flinch beneath his scrutiny. “Why do you act like that?” Will asks him, motioning towards the gym. 
“Like what?! I was just—” 
“Like what?!” Will interrupts, his laugh filled with acid as he steps closer invading Mike’s space, chin turned up defiantly. He shoves his fingers into his shoulder roughly. “Dancing with El the whole night like you’re still together? Ignoring me in the car, while your Mom was taking pictures at your house, basically forcing me to dance with Stacy???! You couldn’t even sit next to me at the fucking table!” Will looks to the stars. “Why did you even invite me? I didn’t even want to come to this, but you said you wanted us to go….together! You said we would tell Lucas and Dustin tonight! You told me you were ready! And now you’re barely acting like my friend, let alone my boyfriend!”
 Will’s voice is loud and Mike tries not to cower when the word 'boyfriend' echoes through the parking lot. He hates himself for it, but he glances around quickly in search of any people passing by that could hear them, only to find it’s abandoned. Will’s eyes follow his and he swallows roughly before staring back at Mike with wide eyes that declare, “See? Just proved my point.” 
Mike opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find anything to say that will help. He stutters, his voice breaking as emotion sticks painfully in his throat. “I’m—I’m sorry Will.” His shoulders fold in on themselves as he wraps his arms around his torso, the weight of this stupid night finally too hard to hold up anymore. “I just—--I thought I was ready—and I—-” He ducks his head to catch Will’s gaze which hasn’t left the floor. Fresh tears pool in his eyes and he’s roughly working his jaw against a sob. Mike’s fingers twitch at his side with the urge to grab his best friend’s face and pull him close and kiss his mouth, his forehead, kiss away his tear streaked cheeks; taste the salt of him on his lips. 
Instead, he murmurs, “I’m so sorry—-I thought—-” he sighs heavily. “I thought I was ready and I was so excited and I even had a stupid boutonnière I bought you and everything that matches your vest, and then it all started happening and everyone was there and my dad was staring at me standing with El and then he was looking at you and I just couldn’t fucking breathe and I’m a fucking idiot! I know I am—-but I’m sorry Will. I’m. So. Sorry.” 
He reaches out to him, his fingers gently caressing the back of his neck and he slides it lightly over his face, thumbing away a tear. Will works his jaw again, eyelashes thick and wet as he stares down at Mike’s chest. He swallows heavily, slightly leaning into his touch as he finally meets Mike’s gaze. Mike watches his mouth, unable to keep himself from leaning in close, to kiss it all away. But then he feels Will’s hand at the back of his and he’s pulling his hand away, gently placing it back at his side. 
“Mike—” he breathes, voice rough and pained. He shakes his head sorrowfully. “I can’t be your secret anymore. I just—-” he shrugs, completely dejected. “I just can’t.” With that, he’s turning away from Mike again and Mike stands frozen in place, his heart thudding in his chest and his own tears blurring his vision as he watches Will quickly pass through the gate of the metal fence and disappear into the woods that will lead him back to his house.
@perpetualexistentialcrisis17
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bsturnzmtts · 1 month ago
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Beyond innocence - Matt Sturniolo
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Re uploaded because my account bsturnzmtt got deactivated :( Please follow and let me know if you want to be in my tag list !
Paring: dom! Matt x innocent' ! Reader
Contains/warnings: rough sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), creampie (on the pill), p in v, petnames, angsty, reader pretends to be innocent, long plot.
Summary: You were childhood best friends with the Sturniolo triplets. After moving to another state your freshman year, you stayed in touch with Nick and Chris, while Matt never really tried. Years later, Nick and Chris planned a trip to visit you and brought Matt along. They stayed at your house for a month, which gave Matt enough time to realize your innocence facade after seeing the real you.
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You are childhood best friends with the triplets. Sadly you had to move to another state when you were in freshman year. But you kept contact with Nick and Chris, Matt never really tried. Years passed and Nick and Chris planned a trip to go visit you. And made Matt come along. The trip is based on staying at your house where you and your mother live for a month and doing many fun activities. Unfortunately Nick and Chris also have an event to attend while they are there, so that obviously takes time that you could use to hang out, and means you're forced to spend more time with Matt.
You were really nervous to get to see the triplets again after many years. Especially Matt, you never really told anyone but back then you had a little crush on him. So it crushed your heart when he did even try to keep contact with you. But you're over that now, you’ve grown… right?
Matt remembers you. You always acted so innocent, oblivious and naive. But he knew deep down you were none of those things, especially after many years have passed and you two have grown
……
Your mother adores the triplets and often talks about the happy times you all had together. She sees them as part of the family and hopes their visit will bring back those happy days. Your mother believes you’re still the same innocent, well-behaved girl from back then, not realizing you’ve changed. Matt, however, always saw right through your act. Even as kids, he knew you weren’t as naive and innocent as you pretended to be for your mother’s sake.
You wake up to a notification buzzing from your phone. A message from Nick lit up on your screen: “We’re on our way. See you in a few hours!”
“Great! Can't waaaaait, see you in a few!!” You text back.
You felt excited and anxious at the same time. It had been years since you moved away, leaving behind the triplets and your shared childhood. While you had kept in touch with Nick and Chris, Matt had always been distant, never bothering to stay connected.
You glanced around your room, making sure everything was in order. You and your mother had prepared for their arrival, ensuring there was space for everyone. Your mom had even prepared their favorite meal.
After checking that everything’s in place you went to get changed. You take off your pjs and put on freshly clean clothes, brushed your teeth and hair, and added some perfume.
As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered how much you’d changed. Would they still recognize you?
Hours later, the doorbell rang, sending a jolt of anticipation through you. You opened the door to find Nick and Chris grinning widely, their familiar faces instantly comforting. You hugged them tightly, the years melting away in an instant.
“Oh my god guys I’ve missed you so much” you say hugging Nick and Chris.
As you pull away from Nick and Chris, you feel a sudden void in the air. You turn around, your heart pounding with anticipation, only to find Matt leaning against the door frame, his piercing gaze locked onto you. “Matt… Heyy it’s been a long time.” You say as you hug him awkwardly, giving him pats on his back. "Yeah, it has been a long time, hasn't it?" Matt says as he hugs you back, his voice smooth and unaffected as he takes in your appearance, a smirk playing on his lips. "But hey, I'm sure we'll catch up soon enough."
Your mother rushed in, thrilled to see the triplets. She hugged them tightly. “I’ve missed you boys! Come in! I made your favorite meal.”
You guys filled the house with laughter and stories, just like old times.
Now it’s time for them to choose a room. Your house has two guest rooms, one which is downstairs with a big bed, and another that is upstairs next to your room with a small bed. So two of the triplets will share the room downstairs and one will use the room upstairs.
“Soo who will sleep where?” You ask.
“I say we flip a coin, the winner gets to have their own room.” Matt says.
“Yeah, sounds fair.” Nick and Chris agreed.
“I’ll take tails.” Chris says.
“Me too.” Nick says.
Matt pulled out a coin from his pocket. “I’ll take heads,” he said. He flipped the coin and it landed in his hand. “Oh, looks like I got it.” Matt smirked.
“Mh great, so Matt takes the upstairs room and you guys share the downstairs room.” You say.
Matt smirks, knowing he got the better end of the deal. He turns to his brothers "You guys can split the downstairs room, don't make a mess of it." He heads up the stairs, leaving Nick and Chris to figure out the sleeping arrangements.
“K! So I’ll help you guys with your luggage.” You say to Nick and Chris as Matt heads upstairs.
"Thanks for the help," Nick says, grabbing his duffel bag. Chris nods in agreement, shouldering his own bag. They head towards their room, chatting excitedly about old times and plans for the weekend. After they finish unpacking you bring them towels and other essentials.
“Here you go guys, if you need anything ask me.” You say to them with a smile.
Then you walked upstairs and knocked on Matt’s door.
"Come in." Matt called out, his voice deep and smooth. You opened the door to find him sprawled out on the bed, shirtless with his long legs crossed and ankles resting on the pillows.
“Oh, hey… here you have towels and other things you might need.” You say.
Matt raises an eyebrow, taking in your sight, before sitting up to accept the towels, trying not to let his eyes wander too much. "Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” You say with a smile.
He sets the towels aside and pats the bed beside him in an unspoken invitation. "So, how's life been treating you?" His question is casual, but there's a hint of genuine curiosity in his gaze as he studies your face.
“Good y’know, normal” you respond.
He nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he leans back on the pillows, one hand absently running through his hair. "Normal, huh? That's good to hear.“
You stand there awkwardly. “Yeah… What about you?” You ask.
He shrugs, letting his hand fall to the bed. "It's been... interesting. Work keeps me busy, but I can't complain. It's fulfilling." He says.
“Yeah, it must be fun being a youtuber. Anyways… good catching up, I’m gonna go see if Nick and Chris need some help.” You say.
"Sure, I'll let you get back to your friends. But first" He says as he stands up and grabs your wrist. “What?” You ask with curiosity. "First, I want to show you something." He pulls you closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. "Close the door behind you, will you?" “Matt, what is this about?” You ask with curiosity. "You'll see, now close the door." he said with a mischievous look in his eyes. “… fine.” You roll your eyes and close the door.
He chuckles at your eye roll and keeps his eyes on you. After the door is closed he turns around and walks over to his dresser. He opens it and pulls out a familiar bag to you. “Mmh I think I found something very interesting about you.” He says with a smirk walking closer to you holding a very fancy bag containing the lingerie you recently bought.
Your eyes widen as you see the bag on his hands. “What!? You went through my room!?” You ask, feeling a little frustrated.
He chuckles at your reaction. “Hey! I got confused, okay? Your room is right next to mine, I just accidentally opened the wrong door, and thought ‘why don’t I take a look?’ So yea, I was snooping around, sue me… but look what I found. And let me tell you, I'm rather impressed," he says, his tone dripping with amusement and a hint of something more.
“Ugh! Give it to me!” You say and try to snatch the bag out of his hands.
"Ah ah ah, not so fast, sweetheart," he says with a playful chuckle, holding the bag just out of your reach. He takes a step back, his eyes roving over your form with a smug expression.
“What would your dear mother think about her little perfectly behaved, innocent and naive daughter buying this kind of stuff?” He says with a smirk.
You roll your eyes in frustration. “Matt-“ but when you’re about to say something your mother walks in.
“Hey! I just wanted to check if everything was good. Did you get everything you need Matt?” Your mother asks sweetly.
“Yes! I already gave him the towels and everything!” You answer quickly, then turn to look at Matt. “If you need anything else you can ask me.” You say to Matt feigning a sweet innocent tone.
Matt smirks at your sweet tone, but says nothing for the moment, keeping the bag of lingerie tightly in his grasp. He glances at your mother, who seems oblivious to the awkward situation, and back to you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Great! I’m off to work sweetie, could you finish the dishes please?” Your mom says.
“Of course mom. Good luck at work.” You answer with a smile.
Your mom gives you a peck on the cheek, humming a happy tune as she heads out the door. The moment she's gone, Matt closes it behind her with a soft click. He turns back to you, a playful glint in his eye. "Now, where were we?“
“Give me the bag, Matt.” You say in a serious tone.
He chuckles, the sound low and husky as he holds the bag out of your reach, teasing you with the temptation. "Ah, come on. Don't be like that. It's just a little fun, isn't it?”
“It’s not even mine. I’m hiding it for a friend. I would never use that kind of stuff.” You say.
The teasing glint in his eyes falters slightly, replaced by a flash of surprise. Then, he laughs again, a genuine amusement coloring his gaze as he hands you the bag. "Sure you wouldn't…Sure you wouldn't.”
“I swear! That’s probably expensive, so I wouldn’t be able to afford it.” You answer defensively.
Matt chuckles. “Fine, fine you can have the bag.” He hands you the bag, but still not believing you.
You roll your eyes and grab the bag. “Thank you.”
"No problem, sweetheart." He winks at you, then leans against the dresser, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes never leave yours, a playful smirk still on his face. "So, which friend is it for, hmm?”
“Ugh none of your business.” You say and leave the room and go to your room.
Matt smirks after you leave, shaking his head slowly. He chuckles to himself, making a mental note to double check that story later.
As soon as you get to your room you close the door and let out sigh, feeling happy Matt ‘bought’ your lie. You quickly hide the bag again, but this time in another place. After that you decided to go downstairs and see what Chris and Nick are up to.
You walk downstairs, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet house. As you reach the living room, you see Chris and Nick lounging on the couch. “Hey guys! whatcha doin?”
“Oh hey, we were just finishing getting ready for our event, it starts today” Nick answers.
“Todayyy? But you just got here.” You say.
The boys nod, confirming what they just said. Chris stretches on the couch lazily, grinning as he does so. "Yeah, we're excited to finally get started.”
“That’s good.” You say, then you har steps coming down the stairs.
Matt strolls down the stairs, a mischievous glint in his eye, he approaches the group, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Hey, don’t worry, you can hang out with me while they’re gone.” He says looking at you.
You faked a smile and answered. “Rightttt.”
He chuckles at your forced enthusiasm, knowing full well you're not entirely thrilled about the idea. He moves to sit on the armchair across from the couch, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp as he watches you. “Our car is here Nick.” Chris says. “Okay okay I’m ready! Bye guysss see you later.” Nick says.
“Byeee I’ll miss you.” You say as they walk out the door.
"I'm sure you will" he said, watching as Chris and Nick leave the house. Once they're gone, Matt turns his attention back to you. "Well, I guess it's just you and me now." He says with a smirk.
You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. “Great.”
He chuckles under his breath, finding amusement in your annoyance. "Ah come on, don't be like that" he says as he leans back in the armchair. His eyes never leave yours, his gaze intent as he studies you from afar.
“I need to finish doing the dishes.” You say and walk to the kitchen.
"Oh, alright then" He says with a playful tone in his voice. As you move to the kitchen, he follows you, making himself comfortable on the counter top.
You start doing the dishes.
He watches you intently as you start washing the dishes, his presence making the ordinary task feel charged with unspoken tension. "So, I've been thinking..." he says casually, his voice low and smooth like velvet.
“What?” You sigh.
He leans in a bit closer, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you with an unnerving intensity in his eyes. "About our little chat earlier," he begins, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I think you might be hiding something from me, sweetheart.”
“That lingerie is not mine. I already told you.” You say.
He laughs softly, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh come on, you can drop the act with me. I know it's yours." He says, folding his arms across his chest as he watches you. “Who are you planning to wear all that stuff for?” He asks.
“Not you.” You snapped.
"Ah, so feisty today," he muses, a smirk playing on his lips. "I like it." He leans back against the counter, his posture relaxed but his eyes never leaving yours. "Well then, whose is it?" He asks, his voice light and teasing. He knows you're not actually angry with him, just a bit flustered.
“None of your business.” You answer and finish doing the dishes.
He chuckles softly at your response, clearly enjoying the little back-and-forth between the both of you. Once you're done with the dishes, he slides off the counter top and moves to stand in front of you, his gaze steady and unwavering. “I guess I’ll have to find out for myself then.”
“Yeah whatever.” You say and start walking away.
He catches your wrist, pulling you back around to face him. His grip is firm but not painful, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your skin. "Whatever, huh?" He says, a hint of a challenge in his voice.
“What do you want, Matt?” You ask.
He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I want to know who the lingerie belongs to, for starters," he says, his tone teasing and playful.
“Fine. It’s mine.” You confess.
He smirks at your admission, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I knew it," he says, his tone triumphant. He releases your wrist and steps back, his hands raised in a see, I told you so' gesture. "I must say, I'm impressed.”
You roll your eyes at him.
He laughs at your reaction, the sound deep and rich. He enjoys teasing you, knowing he can get a rise out of you so easily. "Hey, I'm just saying, it takes a confident woman to wear lingerie like that,”
“Happy now?” You ask with sarcasm. “It’s mine, are you done?”
He grins at your sarcasm, clearly enjoying the banter between the both of you. "For now," he replies, his tone light and unbothered.
You pull away from his grip and go to your room.
He lets you go, his eyes following you as you walk away. His grin doesn't fade as he watches you leave, still amused by your reaction. He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, as he watches you disappear into your room.
You stay in your room for a couple of hours until you get bored and decide to text Chris and Nick.
“Hey guysss at what time are you coming back? It’s getting lateee.” You text.
“This thing got delayed, so we’ll probably be here more time than expected :(“ Chris responds.
“Yeah, we’ll get home late. But don’t worry we have tomorrow to hangout.” Nick adds.
“Okayyy it’s fineee, luv u bye!” You text.
You lay in your bed bored, not knowing what to do.
But in the other hand, Matt did have a plan. He wants to annoy you, to tease you. So immediately after he got out of the shower he went into your room only wearing a towel hanging lowly on his hips. With an excuse to ask you a question.
Without knocking he just walked into your room. “Hey do you have-“
Your eyes immediately went to his body watching the water droplets dripping from his hair to his chest, his arms, how the towel is barely hanging over his hips. But you quickly wake yourself up giving him an ‘annoyed’ look. “Do you not know what knocking is?”
He grins widely at your reaction, his eyes glinting mischievously. He has exactly the reaction he wanted from you. "Thanks for reminding me, I forgot all about that." He says as his fingers lightly graze the door frame. “Anyway, I came to ask you, if you have a bathrobe I could borrow?”
“Ugh, no I don’t ha- wait… I already gave you one with the rest of the towels.” You say.
He chuckles at your exasperation, clearly amused by your flustered state. “What? You did?” He asks, while his eyebrows furrow in mock confusion, but his grin doesn't fade away. “Mh, I guess I forgot to check. My bad.”
“Yeah whatever, just leave.” You say and roll your eyes.
He chuckles again and exits the room, still with that infuriating grin on his face.
“And knock on the door next time!” You shout so he can hear you through the door.
He laughs as he closes your door behind him, the sound echoing in the hallway. "I'll try, but no promises," he calls back, his voice teasing and light. He can't help but feel a thrill at having gotten such a strong reaction from you.
As soon as he leaves you let out a sigh feeling frustrated, at him but especially at yourself, because of how wet you got by seeing him like that.
‘Mh if he’s going to play that game, I can play it too.’ You think to yourself.
After a while Nick and Chris finally get home. You guys ordered pizza and hung out for a little bit, after that you all went to bed.
Matt settles into bed, his thoughts lingering on the evening's events. He can't help but replay the moments in his head, the way your eyes widened when he entered your room, the flush on your cheeks, the annoyance in your voice. It was exhilarating, knowing he could get such a reaction from you. And he wanted more.
The next day you took Nick, Chris and Matt to all your favorite places and restaurants. You guys had a lot of fun, until the afternoon hit. It’s currently 5 pm and Nick and Chris have to leave again.
“Ughh againnnn?” You ask in a whiny voice.
“Yessss we’re so sorryyyy, this event lasts about a week and we have to go every day.” Nick says.
“But after the weekend we’ll have a lot of time to spend together.” Chris says.
They finish getting ready and leave.
Matt watches as Nick and Chris say their goodbyes and leave. He catches your eye, a slight smirk on his lips as he sees your whiny expression. "Well, looks like it's just you and me now," he says, his voice low and playful.
“Did my mom leave for work already?” You ask.
“Yeah like an hour ago. So no need to keep up with your innocent act.” He says.
You give him a glare and stand up to head to your room. But as you stand up, you ‘accidentally’ drop your phone. So you bend over in front of him, your back facing him.
He watches as you bend over to pick up your phone, taking in the sight of your curves and the way your shorts rise slightly. He bites back a groan as he adjusts himself, trying to hide his growing boner.
After you pick your phone up you stand up and leave like nothing happened.
He watches you leave, his eyes glued to your retreating figure. "Such a tease," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head with a small smile.
He is not gonna let you win this little game you two are playing. So for that he decided that he needs a change of clothes. He went to his room and changed his jeans for a pair of grey sweatpants, and obviously he didn’t forget to take out his boxers too. This change of undergarment leaves in view his erection that you left him with. With that said he goes back to the living room and puts on a movie, making sure the volume is loud enough to be heard in your room.
You start hearing a movie playing on the tv coming from the living room. ‘Ugh i'm going to kill him.’ You say in your mind. As you’re about to leave your room you decided to get more ‘comfortable’. So you take your bra off, now only wearing your white tee covering (barely) your upper body. You storm downstairs to the living room with an annoyed expression. “What’s your problem!? The whole neighborhood can probably hear the tv!” You say trying to avoid looking at his clear boner.
As you storm into the living room, Matt watches you with a smirk, his eyes flicking down to your almost exposed chest before meeting your gaze again. "Oh, was I being too loud for you, princess?" he taunts, making no effort to hide his obvious arousal.
You glare at him. “Yes! So turn down the volume.”
He smirks at your insistence, clearly enjoying the power dynamic between you two. Rising from the couch, he walks over to the TV and lowers the volume, his movements purposefully slow so you can't help but notice the bulge in his sweatpants with each step. As he does, his gaze lingers on your chest, the movement causing your braless breasts to jiggle slightly beneath the fabric of your shirt. "There, is that better?”
“Sure I guess.” You say and go to the kitchen.
Matt watches you head to the kitchen, his eyes never leaving your back as you walk away. He can't help but imagine the swell of your bare breasts, the way they'd feel in his hands, and it makes his cock throb with desire. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse. He waits a few moments before following you into the kitchen, his movements a bit more deliberate now. As he enters, he leans against the counter, folding his arms across his chest in a nonchalant pose that belies the hardness still prominent in his sweatpants.
You ignore him grabbing a glass and pouring yourself some water.
He watches as you take a long drink of water, imagining how refreshed your lips would look after being wrapped around his cock. "You're awfully quiet now," he observes, his tone light but with an undercurrent of suggestion. His eyes rove over your form, lingering on the way your t-shirt clings to your curves, the soft swell of your breasts.
“I have nothing to say to you.” You say setting down the glass on the counter.
He smirks, unfazed by your cold tone. "Is that so? Because I seem to recall you had plenty to say earlier." His eyes drop to your chest again, the thin fabric of your shirt doing little to hide the delicate outline of your nipples.
“That’s because you decided to be annoying and put the tv on max volume.” You say
"Well, maybe if you'd stop ignoring me and actually engaged in a conversation, I wouldn't have to resort to such measures.” his voice low and husky.
“So you did that to get my attention?” You ask.
"Maybe," he admits with a shrug, his gaze never leaving yours.
“Why? You want to have a ‘conversation’?” You ask.
He raises an eyebrow at your sarcasm but doesn't comment on it. "Yes, I do," he says evenly. "Unless you're just going to keep giving me the silent treatment.”
“…fine. I won’t.” You say.
"Good. I was hoping you'd see it my way." He takes a step closer, his tall frame looming over you, the air between you charged with tension. "So tell me, what's really going on with you? Why the attitude?”
“What attitude?” You ask.
He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "Don't play dumb with me. You're clearly upset about something." He leans in, his face inches from yours, his breath warm on your skin. "Why don't you just say it?”
“Ohh I don’t know… did you do anything to upset me?” You ask in a sarcastic way.
"Me? No, never." He says with a smug smile, but you can see the glint in his eyes.
“Then I guess I’m not upset.” You say with sarcasm.
"Not upset, huh? Well, it sure seems like you are.” he growls, his voice low and urgent.
“No, if you claim you did nothing to upset me, then im not upset. Why would I be upset?” You say with sarcasm.
His eyes narrow at your tone, his jaw clenched in irritation. "Because you're still avoiding eye contact, your body language screams 'fuck off,' and you're using sarcasm like a shield. Classic signs of someone who's trying to hide their true feelings.”
“Congratulations, took you long enough to notice.” You say.
Matt scoffs and rolls his eyes. "I don't need a condescending attitude, thank you very much." But then he takes a deep breath and tries again, his voice softer. "Look, I don't know what I did to piss you off, but I'm trying to have a real conversation here. You're not making it easy."
“Maybe I don’t want to have a conversation with someone who was supposed to be my best friend, ended up ghosting me when I move away, never explained why, and decides to come back after years pretending that everything is normal.” You let out.
His eyes widen at your words, and for a moment, he looks taken aback. He takes a step back, his expression softening. "Oh, fuck," he breathes, running a hand through his hair. "I had no idea you felt that way.”
“It wasn’t that hard to keep contact, you know. Your brothers did.” You say.
He looks down, shame creeping into his features. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, alright? I was a fucking idiot for letting so much time pass without reaching out. I got caught up in my own life and... and I messed up. Badly.”
“… whatever Matt.” You say and start walking away.
"No, no, wait." He calls out to you, taking a few hurried steps to catch up. "Please, don't walk away from me. I fucked up, I know. And I want the chance to make it right." He looks at you with earnest eyes, genuinely remorseful.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice softer and more sincere than before. "I fucked up. I know I did. But I've missed you so much, man. I've realized that I can't just let things be without trying to make things right between us. Please forgive me?”
“Fine. I forgive you, it’s been years and I got over it a long time ago. But that doesn’t mean things will go back to normal.” You say.
He nods, understanding. "Yeah, I get that. But maybe that's okay. Maybe we can start fresh, build a new friendship based on who we are now, instead of trying to fit back into the mold of who we used to be." He shifts nervously, trying to gauge your reaction.
“Yeah” you let out a chuckle. “You turned out to be an annoying asshole.” You say jokingly letting out a laugh.
He laughs along with you, relieved that you're willing to give him another chance. "Well, you always had a way of calling me out on my shit," he says with a grin. "But hey, I promise I've been working on being a little less asshole-ish these days.”
“Mmhhh I don't think so, I mean first thing you did when you got here was snoop around my room.” You say and chuckle.
He groans, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay, maybe I haven't completely changed yet," he admits with a laugh. “And it’s just that… I don’t know, you always act to innocent, and I know you’re not. So I just wanted to prove myself right.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say feigning innocence.
He laughs "Oh come on, don't play dumb with me. I'm not stupid, you know. I've seen the way you operate, always playing the sweet, innocent girl, but I know you're hiding something. That's just part of why I had to snoop around.”
“I think I'm going to start locking my room.” You laugh.
He chuckles and smirks at you. "Yeah, maybe you should. Or you know, you could just give in and tell me your secrets," he says playfully.
You chuckle. “Yeah, no way. Anyways it’s getting late and I want to shower before Nick and Chris get here so we can have dinner.” You say.
"Oh, sure thing. I'll let you get to it." He says. "I should probably head back to my room as well and grab a shower myself." He smiles at you, making his way to the door. "I'll see you later then, okay?”
You both go to your own rooms. You take a nice hot shower. When you get out you blow dry your hair and do the rest of your routine. Then you put on some clothes. Your mother is already downstairs making dinner for you guys so you decide to go down and help her. Dinner's ready and Chris and Nick get home. You all sit on the table and eat dinner, Matt sat next to you. Everything was going fine until you felt his hand on your thigh.
You feel his hand creeping up your thigh under the table. His fingers trail up your inner thigh, the touch light but unmistakable. You freeze, the fork halfway to your mouth. You can feel the heat of his skin against yours. His touch is bold, fingers splayed across your leg, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you.
You swallow the piece of food that you had in your mouth and give him a glare.
He smirks at you and leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Mmm, your thighs are so soft," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, making sure no one saw or heard him. His fingers continue their trail, moving higher before finally coming to a stop just below the hem of your shorts.
“Matt. Stop.” You whisper back, pulling his hand away.
He withdraws his hand, but not before giving your thigh a quick squeeze. “What?" He feigns innocence, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture as if he didn't just grope you under the table. A devilish glint dances in his eyes as he leans back in his chair, smirking.
You glare at him and continue eating. After everyone’s done eating you help your mom pick up the table.
When the table is cleared and the dishes are put in the dishwasher, he comes over to you, his hand resting on your lower back. "Hey," he says softly.
“What?” You ask, avoiding eye contact.
He chuckles lowly and moves to stand in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk in his “Can we talk for a moment?”
“Maybe next time, right now I’m tired and want to go to bed.” You say lying.
"Aww, come on," he coos, his voice dripping with persuasion. "Just a few minutes of your time." He reaches out to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is unmistakable, a mix of desire and something more sinister.
As you look at him you feel yourself getting wetter, but you can’t let him win. “No. Sorry I'm just really tired.” You yawn.
He narrows his eyes, seeing right through your tired act. "Fine," he says, his voice clipped. "But know that this isn't over."
“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You say smiling and then walk away.
He watches you go, his eyes smoldering with a heated hunger. He knows he'll get what he wants eventually, but for now, he'll let you think you've won this round.
Next morning…
Nick and Chris had to leave early today for their event, so it was just you and Matt in the house.
As you wake up, you hear some sounds coming from the kitchen. You get up from your bed and put on some sweatpants and a tank top before you go to the kitchen to check what's going on. “What’s going on here? Why is there so much noise?”
Matt is standing at the counter, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them vigorously. He looks up and smirks at you as you enter, his eyes roaming over your casual morning attire. "Just making some breakfast," he says, his tone casual despite the heat in his gaze.
“Did Chris and Nick leave already?” You ask.
"Yep, they had an early call time for their event. So it's just us." He says with a smirk.
“Great.” You say sarcastically as you rub your eyes.
He laughs lightly at your sarcasm, but there's a touch of relief in his laughter. Now that it's just the two of you, he knows he has a better chance at getting what he wants. "Yeah, looks like it," he says, his voice low and full of promise.
You roll your eyes at his response. “Whatever. Don’t burn my house down. I'm gonna go take a shower.”
"Take your time," he says, his voice like honey, as if he's already imagining you in the shower, water cascading down your bare skin. He licks his lips and turns back to the stove, where he starts cooking the eggs.
You go upstairs to your room and start showering.
Downstairs, Matt's thoughts are consumed with you. He pictures you in the shower, your body slick and soapy under the water.
After some minutes you’re done showering and head to your room. You put on your black underwear set and start drying your hair, not noticing the door to your room is slightly opened.
When he’s going to his room he can’t help but notice your door is slightly open. He can't resist his curiosity. He quietly walks towards your room, stopping just outside the open door to sneak a peek. "Damn," he muttered under his breath as he peaked into your room. He sees you half-dressed and towel drying your hair. He felt his arousal spike as he watched the water dripping down the curves of your body.
Unaware of Matt's presence, you finish taking the excess water off your hair and decide to stay comfortable and put on an oversized shirt.
Matt swallows hard, his pulse racing as he drinks in the sight of you in your oversized shirt, leaving your legs exposed. He can't tear his gaze away. His eyes trailed down and admired your legs, feeling the heat of desire building up inside him. But he quickly left and went to his room so you wouldn’t notice.
You grab your phone and head out of your room.
He lays down on his bed, his mind still consumed with thoughts of you. He can't believe how sexy you looked even half-dressed. He groans softly as he starts to stroke his hardening cock, imagining you in more revealing states. "Fuck.” He hears you come out of your room and he decides to follow you. He quickly pulled up his sweatpants and opened the door to his room, seeing you in the hallway. “Hey, where are you going?”
“Hey.. I uhm I’m going down stairs.” You say. You obviously noticed the big bulge in his pants but try not to show it.
He smirks at your reaction, his eyes locked on yours with a knowing glint. "Downstairs, huh? I could join you." His voice is low and suggestive, the bulge in his pants straining against the fabric as he takes a step closer.
“No.” You say with a playful smile and start walking downstairs and make your way to the kitchen.
He watches as you descend the stairs, the hem of your oversized shirt riding up to reveal more of your bare legs. He groans again, the sound low and needy in his throat. He follows you to the kitchen, his gaze never leaving your body.
“I thought I told you no.” You say grabbing a drink from the fridge.
"Ah, but I'm a persistent man, aren't I?" He steps closer, his large frame towering over you as he leans against the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. The bulge in his pants is undeniable now, a physical manifestation of his desire.
“Mh, shows.” You say in a slightly sarcastic way.
A smirk plays on his lips as he catches your sarcasm, but there's an undercurrent of challenge in his gaze. He straightens up and moves closer, backing you against the counter. "Is that a problem, sweetheart?"
“It’s a little bit annoying.” You say and start walking towards the living room.
He quickly catches up to you, his hand reaching out to grasp your wrist tightly and stop you from walking away. "I think we're not quite done here," he says, his voice low and commanding. He pulls you back towards him.
“Ugh what the hell is your problem?” You say annoyed.
“My problem?” he says with a slightly offended tone in his voice. He keeps a firm grip on your wrist, his fingers digging in just enough to convey his dominance. "My problem?" he repeats, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. "I think you know exactly what my problem is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say.
His eyes narrow slightly at your response and his grip on your wrist tightens slightly at your continued ignorance. His other hand reaches up to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Don't play games with me," he says in a rough tone. “My problem is that you’ve been trying to make me hard for the past 3 days.”
“No! You’ve tried to make me wet since you got here. So don’t start complaining about something you started.” You say frustrated.
He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh at your words, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "So I make you wet, huh?" He tilts his head, his eyes searching yours.
You roll your eyes and avoid eye contact. “I’m not answering that.”
"Oh, I think you just did," he says with a smirk.
“Ugh fuck you Matt.” You say and pull away from his grip. You walk towards the living and sit on the couch turning on the tv.
He watches you storm off with a smug grin, clearly amused by your flustered reaction. He follows you to the living room. He sits down next to you on the couch, much closer than necessary, his thigh brushing against yours. “Are you wet right now?”
You feel your panties getting wetter as he asks that. “No.”
He chuckles low in his throat, his hand coming to rest on your exposed thigh. His touch is warm and possessive, sending tingles up your spine. "So you would have a problem with me checking" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands moving slowly up.
You close your thighs. “Matt, stop.”
His smirk turns into a full-blown smile at your words and actions, clearly pleased with the effect he's having on you. He continues to tease you, his hand moving up to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Stop what? Checking if you're wet for me?"
“You wish I was,” you say, giving him a little bit of attitude.
"Oh, I know you are," he says with a chuckle, his hand sliding further up your thigh.
“I’m trying to watch a movie.” You say and pull his hand away.
He raises an eyebrow, his smirk only growing wider as he hears the slightly breathless quality to your voice. "Mhm, sure you are," he murmurs, his hand moving back to your thigh and forcing your legs open. “I'm just going to check if you’re wet or not.” His hand moved further up, since you’re without pants he quickly reached your pantie.
You gasp at his action and bite your lip holding back a whine as he teases your clit through your damp panties.
He smirks at your reaction but doesn’t say anything; he just pulls out his fingers and pretends like nothing happened. “Let’s watch your movie.”
You quietly sit there trying to pay attention to the movie.
He watches you attempt to focus on the movie, a knowing glint in his eye. Every so often, his gaze drifts down to your lap, no doubt recalling the feel of your wet panties between his fingers. He faces the tv again but his fingers start creeping to your thighs until they reach your panties. He doesn’t say anything, he just ‘pays attention’ to the movie. Two of his fingers start moving in circular motion.
You nearly gasp at his touch, you look over at him but he’s facing the tv. As his fingers start to move you can’t help but hold up your whines and moans.
He smirks but his expression never faces your direction, instead, he keeps eye contact with the screen. His fingers continue to move and rub against you harder.
Without thinking you spread your legs wider giving him more access.
He smirks wider as he hears the soft gasp torn from your lips. The feeling when he sees you spread your legs wider, his finger moving against your clit in slow circles.
You whine needing to feel more friction. So your hips unconsciously start grinding on his fingers.
He loves seeing you like this, vulnerable and needy. He chuckles low in his throat as he feels you grinding on his fingers. His free hand comes to rest on your inner thigh, applying gentle pressure to keep you open for him. He whispers near your ear “fucking slut” as you’re about to cum he pulls away his fingers.
You let out a whine at the loss of contact.
His smirk is triumphant as he watches your reaction, knowing he's left you wanting. He turns to face you, his eyes dark with desire. "You’re a fucking slut, admit it." His voice is low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.
As vulnerable you are you still keep up with the attitude. “No. I’m not.”
He chuckles as he watches your squirm in need, the way you answer, keeping up with the attitude, hiding how needy you are for his touch. He knows it's a lie. “Yeah? You’re not?” He chuckles. “Like you didn’t just take my fingers without hesitation.”
He watches your expression carefully, waiting for you to back down from your defiance. When you remain silent, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "I could make you cum, right here, right now. All you have to do is admit it. Say the words, baby."
You look at him, your eyes filled with lust and desire. “Fuck… yes.” You say quietly.
He smirks, his lips curling up at your confession. "Yes, what?" His voice is soft yet demanding.
“Yes…I- I’m a slut.” You say in desperation for him to touch you.
He leans back in to whisper near your ear "That's right, you are." He watches your squirm under his gaze, his expression filled with satisfaction. His fingers move to your panties, teasing you as he spreads your wetness around. "Not just a slut, but my slut."
You whimper at his teasing. “Mh Matt please.”
He smirks as he hears your plea. "Please what, slut? Tell me exactly what you want." His fingers continue to tease your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you on the brink of climax.
“Please let me cum.” You whine.
"Ah, baby, you want to cum so bad, don't you?" His voice drips with seduction as he continues to torture your clit, his fingers expertly dancing around the sensitive spot. "Tell me, how much do you want it? How much do you need it?"
“Please Matt, I want to cum so bad.” You whimper.
Finally, Matt couldn't resist your begging and he pushes his fingers inside of you. He starts to finger you roughly while still rubbing your clit with his thumb. "Cum for me baby, cum all over my fingers." He orders as he feels you getting tense around his fingers.
“Mmmhp fuck” you moan.
He curses under his breath as he feels your walls tighten around his fingers, your moans becoming louder. He watches your face contorting in pleasure, feeling more satisfied with himself as he sees you getting closer to the edge.
“Mhh Matt I’m gonna cum” you moan feeling close.
He grins, his eyes flashing with excitement as he feels your impending orgasm. "That's it, baby, give it to me," he growls, finger-fucking you with abandon, his thumb pressing hard on your clit as he coaxes your climax from you. "Cum all over my fingers, slut,"
“Mmh fuck” you moan as you cum hard on his fingers.
"That's it, baby, let it out. So good, so fucking perfect," he praises, continuing to stroke you through your intense orgasm, prolonging the pleasure. As your spasms slowly subside, he pulls his fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to his lips. He sucks his fingers clean, a look of satisfaction on his face as he savors the taste of your cum. "Mmm, you taste so sweet, baby," he says, his eyes locked on yours, the connection between you crackling with energy.
He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, sensual kiss. The taste of your essence lingers on his tongue, a delicious reminder of the pleasure he's given you. His hand trails down your side, tracing the curve of your waist as he pulls you closer.
You moan into the kiss and move to his lap strangling him.
Matt grunts as you straddle him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you press your body against his. He can feel the heat radiating from between your thighs, the evidence of your arousal soaking through his pants and leaving a wet spot on his lap.
He groans, his hands moving to cup your ass, pulling you in closer as he deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth, dancing with yours in a sensual rhythm. "You're so fucking wet for me, aren't you?" he breathes against your lips, his voice low and husky with desire. He's hard beneath you, his cock straining against his pants as he grinds against your core. "You want this, don't you?
You nod and keep kissing him letting out muffled moans.
"That's it, baby, show me how much you want it," he growls, his hands gripping your ass tightly as he grinds his hips up against yours. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, leaving marks.
Matt groans, his hands moving to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt. "You're so fucking sexy" he whispers huskily, his voice dripping with lust. He can't get enough of you, your moans driving him wild with desire. He pulls your top down, revealing your breasts. "Fuck, look at you,"
He trails his finger over your bare breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden beneath his touch. He then leans down to take them into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around them, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "You like that, baby?"
“Mhm” you moan and keep grinding against him.
"That's right, grind on my cock," he groans, his hands gripping your hips to meet your movements. He continues to suck and nibble on your nipples, his mouth hot and eager against your skin. "I can feel how much you want this, how much you need to be filled up."
He continues to grind against you, his cock throbbing in anticipation as he whispers dirty promises into your ear. "I'm going to make you scream my name, baby. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow."
“Please Matt” you whimper. He picks you up and takes you to his room.
He carries you to his bedroom, his lips still trailing hot kisses along your neck and collarbone. He lays you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. He trails his fingers down your body, stopping to circle over your nipples before continuing further south. "I need to taste you," he growls, his voice low and full of desire. He moves down between your legs, spreading them apart as he goes.
He buries his face between your thighs, his tongue delving into your slick heat as he devours you. He groans at the taste of your arousal, his fingers digging into your hips as he eats you out with wild abandon.
“Mmhf Fuck Matt” you moan as you arch your back.
His name is music to his ears as he doubles his efforts, his tongue thrusting deep into your pussy as he sucks on your clit. He can feel your walls fluttering around his tongue, your juices dripping down his chin as he feasts on your arousal.
"Fuck yes, baby, you taste amazing," he groans against your sensitive flesh, his words muffled but filled with desire. He continues his relentless assault on your clit, his tongue flicking and circling the swollen bud as he drives you closer to the edge.
“I’m so close” you moan.
He can hear the need in your voice and he knows you're close. He sucks harder on your clit, his fingers slipping inside you to fill the space his tongue leaves behind, thrusting deep and rubbing against the rough patch of skin on the roof of your pussy.
You let out a loud moan as you cum hard on his tongue.
"Yes, that's it, cum for me baby," he growls, his face buried between your thighs as he laps up every drop of your release. He keeps his tongue pressed against your spasming pussy, prolonging your orgasm and milking you of every last tremor.
He grins against your thighs, satisfied with the reaction he got from you. He slowly pulls his tongue and fingers out of you, savoring the lingering taste of your arousal and the slick feeling of your release on his skin. "You taste so fucking good, baby,”
He presses a tender kiss to your sensitive, still-quivering flesh before crawling up your body, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices. "I need to be inside you now," he growls, his cock hard and ready against your thigh.
“Mhm please Matt” you whine.
“Oh, baby, you're so wet and ready for me.” He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your opening. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with desire. "You want me to fuck you, baby? You want me to make you cum again?"
“Yes Matt please”
He smirks a little at your eager answer before thrusting himself inside you. He groans at the feeling of being surrounded by your tight heat, his cock slipping in easily thanks to how wet you are. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”
“Ahh Matt you’re so big” you whimper arching your back.
"I know, baby, and you feel amazing wrapped around me," he groans as he starts to move, pulling back slowly before thrusting in deep again. He sets a steady, relentless pace, each stroke hitting that special spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your walls flutter around his cock.
You moan loudly, your walls tightening more with each thrust.
"You like that, baby? You like me fucking you hard?" He grunts, leaning down to suck a mark onto your neck, just above your collarbone, his thrusts becoming rougher, his cock slamming into your cervix with each hit, with each thrust, his jaw clenched in effort as he tries to hold back his own orgasm.
“Mhhmp oh god Matt i'm going to cum” you moan pathetically as you feel that knot in your stomach about to explode.
"Cum for me, baby! I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you come undone," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic and forceful as he chases his own release. The base of his shaft pulses against your clit with each movement, providing additional stimulation that pushes you over the edge.
Your moans nearly come out as screams of pleasure as you squirt all over is cock.
"Fuck yes!" Matt groans loudly, nearly losing his balance as you squirt, the feeling nearly triggering his own release. His hips thrust frantically as he does his best to prolong the pleasure, the pulsing of his cock growing more and more erratic as he releases inside you.
"Mmmhhh... so fucking good..." He sighs as he collapses onto you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his still-throbbing cock buried deep inside you.
Your legs still shaking a bit from your orgasm when you hear sound coming from the hallway.
“Matt, Y/n where are you guys?” Nick asks.
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dolicekiss · 4 months ago
Text
A debt
PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Velaryon niece!reader
CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni please), dubcon, lucerys velaryon reader (basically reader is lucerys velaryon but female), toxic aemond, threats, unprotected sex (p in v), near death experiment, hair pulling, rough making out, attempted sexual asssult, breeding, virgin!reader, bickering, mentions of blood, tension, kinda angsty
SYNOPSIS: Aemond could never forget that you had taken his eye out, so when you both cross paths at Storm’s End, he demands for what was taken from him. Things went haywire when a sneak attack lead you to fall from your dragon and be swallowed by the large waves. Only that you didn't die, as Aemond finds you and saves you. With nowhere to take you, the prince takes you to a brothel hoping Sylvie would keep you safe there. Little did be know, a beautiful girl such as yourself was not a thing to be put in a brothel.
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“I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine.”
Blue sapphire sparkled in the hollowness of Aemond’s eye when he peeled back his eye patch and revealed the wound you had left behind as a little girl. A regret at best but not anymore. You swallowed, heart thumping in your chest. You possessed no desire to fight him, nor did you wish to indulge with him.
You were only a messenger here.
“One would serve.” Aemond softly spoke, as you watched him reach for a dagger. “I would not blind you.”
The piercing sound of the dagger being tossed at you was more pellucid against your ears than the gushing rainstorm outside. Patterning aggressively on the cobblestones, striking thunder tearing through the sky. The seven were definitely upset, for what was about to take place. An ominous feeling looming over your head, putting your heart in a state of unease.
“Plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”
There was no way he could expect you to take out your own eye. You had acted upon impulse but you were right to do so. He was going to injure your brother and you, that stone in his hand a vivid image embedded in your mind from childhood.
You held your head high, fierce gaze focused on him. “No.”
Aemond seemed disappointed by your response. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”
You could hear Lord Borris’ rebuke in the back but it mattered little to Aemond as he marched towards you abruptly, causing you to retreat back. “Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!”
“Come fucking take it then.”
Swords were unsheathed and the sound of it echoed within the halls of Lord Borris' castle.
You were filled with panic, your long black braid moving behind your back when you took haste steps back. Before bloodshed could happen, Lord Borris stepped in and sent you back to your dragon. You were thankful for that as this could lead to something worse.
You went out, going to your dragon, Arrax who seemed in quite distress. You patted his back, once or twice and commanded for it to calm down in high valyrian but nothing seemingly worked. Rain had soaked into your clothes and the thunderstorm only grew heavier witch each second. As you mounted it, your gaze set on the empty space where Vhagar once sat.
You made it your goal to reach dragonstone safely and convey the Lord’s message to your mother.
As Arrax flew up in the grey sky, you looked around hoping to not find Aemond but when the massive shadow of Vhagar flew atop you in the clouds, your blood froze. Panic rising up and you knew very well that fighting Aemond in a dragon combat would end with you losing since he had claimed the largest dragon in all of Westeros.
You could feel your dragon’s uneasiness, same as yours and that was not a good sign.
Aemon had disappeared for now and you released a breath of relief, turning your dragon to head for dragonstone.
Only then Vhagar came in front of you, out of nowhere, with its wide mouth open sending your dragon in pure disarray. You tried to control it, in hopes that things will calm down if one dragon is calm enough but no.
Aemond’s laugh echoed in the open sky and it was enough to fill you with chills. You felt Vhagar right behind you, its loud roars having the same affect as Aemond’s malicious laughs. You saw a narrow pathway between two stones and went inside, knowing Vhagar would be incapable of fitting in there with its large size.
Your commands to calm your dragon down were pathetic and useless.
It was scared, as were you.
You could hear Aemond’s deep voice, and it terrified you.
“Jemēla gēlyēni enkā, riña.” Those words, you knew what they meant and you knew Aemond would only calm when he has ripped out your eye from your socket, a vision you would be.
Fearsome was the thought.
Your vision had blurred due to the constant pouring of the rain and your own head was everywhere. But then, out of nowhere your dragon spots Vhagar and in desperate need to protect itself, flies at the beast and breathes fire into her face.
“Lykiri, Arrax! Lykiri!” Your command in high valyrian flies over your tense dragon’s head as you fly away from Vhagar.
You can hear Vhagar losing its calm too, as Aemond’s high valyrian commands roared along with his dragon. You turned around, looking down but there was no sight of Vhagar chasing after you now, so you flew higher.
You broke through the barrier of the dark, looming clouds and when light greeted you, relief washed over you. False assumptions that everything was calm now became the reason of your fall as Vhagar out of nowhere leaped from the side, biting Arrax‘s head into two.
“Vhagar, no!”
Your eyes widened in horror, gaze locking with Aemond as you lost balance and fell down.
That was all you remembered, as you passed out due to the panic and lose of hope. You knew from then on, you were better off dead but what broke your heart the most was the gruesomely demise of your beloved dragon.
Aemond knew he had to find you.
Vhagar had missed you by an inch and the chances of you being alive were somewhat there. He did not wish to start a war, not like this, not by killing off his niece when she was at her weakest.
He had the advantage by being in the possession of the biggest dragon and he knew it was not fair to you.
Aemond dived in, lowering his dragon to the sea, in hopes that he would find you. Endlessly searching in the water, letting out frustrated grunts when he didn't find you. He flew over the shore, all deserted and he noticed something. Bringing Vhagar closer to it, he jumped off her back and ran towards your passed out body.
Thankfully you had washed up on the shore.
Your long braid wrapped around your stomach, the side of your head bloodied and Aemond fell to his knees, reaching for your face.
You were as lifeless as a corpse.
He checked your pulse and relief washed over him. You were alive, although unconscious.
Aemond buried his arms beneath your soaked body, lifting you up and taking you over to Vhagar. He somehow got you on his dragon’s back and tied you to him, your back pressed against his chest and head leaned over his shoulder.
“Fuck, what do I with you now?” He whispered, a mix of worry and frustration donning his face.
He couldn't take you back to the red keep, as they would capture you and hold you hostage. He didn't want that, not when he had not captured you with honor. Aemond was not some monster without morals but he sure could not take you to the blacks, knowing it would put his life in danger.
There was absolutely nothing he could do than fly around Westeros with you on his dragon.
An idea infiltrated the prince's mind.
There was only one place where he could keep you, without bringing you harm and that was the brothel he often visited. Under Sylvie’s care and under her orders, she surely would protect you and keep you safe.
He sighed, flying to where Vhagar usually rested. He allowed her rest while taking a horse, putting his hoodie over your very bright and pleasant features to conceal you.
The realm had seen you, he did not wish for people to take notice of you. Aemond pressed you into his chest as he rode in King's landing, making way to Sylvie’s brothel.
That was the best place to keep you.
As his own hostage.
For no one else to hurt, no one else to lay claim on you.
Sylvie was surprised to see the prince with an unconscious woman in his arms. Aemond only had to glare at her and she allowed him in. Thankfully it was broad daylight and there were not much customers — giving the young prince enough room to smuggle you in the confinement of a room in a secluded area of the brothel upstairs.
“My prince, who is she?”
Aemond sighed, tiresome all this was but it was his fault and deep down he knew that.
“Just know that she is mine and I am entrusting her to you.” Aemond said, staring at your unconscious body laying on the soft bed. “If harm comes to even a strand of her hair, I will behead you and your girls.”
Sylvie was terrified and it was rare of her to be this terrified of Aemond. His tone was dark and she knew that this woman, whoever she might be, was definitely not to sell to her customers. All the woman could do was nod at the prince, obeying his each and every command.
“Trust me, my prince. Rest assured. I shall take care of her like she is my own.”
Aemond was pleased. “Tend to her wounds, clean her and change her clothes. Give her your most expensive dress.”
Sylvie nodded, eyes lowered to the floor as Aemond continued analyzing you. You had the most longest hair he had ever laid eye upon. A long braid which reached your calves and it was as dark as a raven. You surely were no velaryon, as much as you went around parading it like your mother.
But you surely were a Targaryen.
He departed from the brothel, writing a mental note that he would visit again tonight.
Hours passed by and when you finally regained consciousness, it was not in the arms of death nor the waves but on a soft mattress, surrounded by candles everywhere and the strong sweet scent of oils and perfumes.
Your gaze fell on your attire and it was something you would never in your seven lives wear.
A long sleeved dress, made of sheer material, enough to expose your small clothes. Your shoulders revealed and glistening from the oils that had been rubbed on you. Your hand reached to feel your thick braid but instead wavy strands awaited you. Cascading down your back, surrounding you like a fucking gown. You were in a completely different attire than before.
Soft music orchestrated by someone unknown made its tunes inside the room you were in.
It was small, with a bed and a table side. A chair was also in the corner and you sucked in a deep breath, eyes flitting here and there to analyze the room further.
The door soon opened and it revealed a woman, in her mid fourties and you blinked upon seeing her disheveled state. She was practically naked and slowly the realization began to sink in.
“Is this a brothel?”
The woman had the sweetest smile on her lips as she nodded, in her hand a jug you assumed filled with wine. In her other, a golden cup. A grimace made its way on your face, disgust evident but there was also unmatched anger. You were going to slaughter whoever that had brought you here.
Had they sold you?
Did Aemond do this? It would not make sense at all since you knew he would have abandoned you the moment you fell off your dragon. There was no way he would search for you but if it wasn't him then someone else had found you and put you here.
Your head felt like it could burst at any given moment and you realized how bad of a throbbing pain was in the side of your head. It ached and when you reached for it, you flinched.
“By what means am I here? I need to know who put me in such a horrible filthy place.”
You watched with a sharp eye as she poured the liquid into the cup, extending it out for you once finished. You blinked, shaking your head. “I demand answers, not wine.”
“I'm afraid I'm not allowed to answer those but he will be here soon.”
You snatched the cup of wine from her hand and tossed it across the room, watching as the glass made contact with the wall and collapsed in the corner. The woman’s grin grew wider as she realized you were no low born for sure. The amount of money she could make off you was unmatched but she knew better than to defy Aemond’s orders.
“You have the temperaments of a high born lady.” Sylvie said, head tilted as she admired the beauty you were blessed with. “No wonder I was told to take care of you.”
There was not a mark on your face, like you'd been blessed by the seven themselves. You were a piece of art and how she'd gotten you ready only made you appear like Venus, the goddess of love and sex, fertility even.
Sylvie left the room, to attend to her guests but not before warning you. “Do not leave this room, girl. There are wolves out there and they won't hesitate to rip you to shreds. You are safe here.”
You felt chills at her words, well aware of the atrocities men committed here with women.
You chewed on your lip, knees brought to your chest as you hugged them tightly while your arms wrapped around them. You wanted to cry, you missed your brothers and your mother. Being her only daughter, you knew her whole being resided within you and you wished to send a letter at least about your whereabouts.
She surely would come to save you.
Confused, scared and cornered, you stayed glued to your position.
Then the room door opened and a man entered. Your head lifted up from your knee pads and you backed into the wall seeing how drunk this man was. His wobbly walk told you he had more than enough to drink and now he was staggering towards you.
“I knew that bitch was hiding something here.” He said, a sick grin on his face and your eyes widened upon catching a glimpse of the man's hands that were extended to grab a hold of you. “Such a pretty girl like you should be downstairs, not here. But then it's good you're here. I get to have you all for myself.”
“Touch me and I will make you wish you were never born.” You spat, a venom in your tone as your posture shifted.
You were on guard and you had always trained under your step father, Daemon. You knew how to defend yourself, as well as take down a life if you had to. There was nothing in this world that you would not do to protect yourself and when the man's flimsy endeavor to grab you slipped, you rolled over the bed to reach for the cup of wine.
You swallowed.
You had trained but you never once had to fight someone to save your life, dignity and honor.
This was real, this was what you had trained for.
Adrenaline pumped through your blood, since the man was evidently twice your delicate size. You watched with a sharp gaze as he scoffed, reaching for you. Before his hands could come in contact with your exposed shoulders, you struck down the man's hand with the sharp edge of the wine glass.
He let out a scream, nearly succumbing to his knees. “You fucking bitch.”
You stared as blood soaked his clothes, the cut deep and brutal on his hand. This only encouraged his lust for you, an anger igniting in his eyes. He seemed pretty sober now as he got back up and slammed you against the wall with newfound force.
“Fucking whore. You don't have to act this hard to get. I swear I'll pay more than what the others do.” His words were like salt to the wound, as he held you over the wall. You had nothing on him now, as the man buried his face into your neck.
He sniffed, satisfied with the scent of the oils staining your skin. Before his lips could come in contact with your skin, the door slammed open and you saw Aemond.
The moment he laid his gaze on you, in such a horrible and disgusting situation, something inside him snapped. His jaw tightened and Aemond forgot that he was in a brothel and causing a scene could put you in danger.
You felt the force of the man disappear as Aemond pulled him off you, pinning him to the ground with his knee into his neck. You watched as your uncle delivered punch after punch, ruining the set of very basic features on his face.
“How dare you lay your filthy hands on her? On her, of all people?” His voice was loud as for each word, a taut punch was sent to the man's face.
Sylvie entered the room, in a panicked state, witnessing the disheveled state of both Aemond and you in front of him. She recognized the man as one of her clients and when Aemond caught her in his eye, he stood up and grabbed the woman by her throat, pressing her into the wall.
He leaned in, darkness imposing a threat. “I gave you one fucking job, and you failed.”
“I-I swear I don't know how he found her. My Prince believe me, I-I would never misplace something you told me to take care of.”
You watched the whole scene unfold, with blurring tears in your eyes, a soft sniffle escaping you. The man's touch was disgusting and it still lingered over your shoulders, the stains of blood tainting the purity of your skin. You could not believe what was going on, all you knew that Aemond was aware of your whereabouts which could only mean one thing; he himself put you here. Was this how low the Greens were willing to go, to win the war? By tainting the Queen’s reputation and putting you in a brothel for commoners to use and throw?
“Get out of my fucking sight and hand this fucking filth to my guards. I will see what it is to be done of him.” Aemond elucidated each word for the woman and she nodded, grabbing the man and dragging him out. “And bring me some water and a clean cloth.” His head turned in your direction, gaze locking with your blurred one.
You were still frozen in that position, not being able to move an inch. Your body had stilled from how sudden and scary everything was.
Aemond took a step towards now that you two were alone and you flinched. “Please don't.”
He stilled, staring at you. You were close to breaking apart, he could see it. Tears falling down in small streams, glistening over the golden glow of the candle casting on your face.
“I would never force myself upon you.” He said, almost offended that you would expect something like that from him in the first place. He was cold, stoic, he knew but did you really see him in such a horrible light? It bothered him when it should not have, it shouldn't matter what you have got to say or think about him.
“Did you throw me in here as revenge for your eye, Uncle?” You spoke, throat feeling like it was being prickled by needles because of how much you were holding yourself back from breaking into a fit of sobs and tears.
He raised a brow and then proceeded to scoff. “You really do see me as some tyrant.”
“You chased me on your dragon and made me fall, I could have died!” You shouted, taking a step forward. Your sadness had transformed into anger, and now your tears were flowing freely. A ton of emotions overwhelming your little frame and Aemond saw it.
The tick in his jaw grew, fists still clenched and blood dripping from them. “But you didn't. I found you and I brought you here to keep you safe—”
“Safe? Safe?! You brought me here, to this god forsaken place to keep me safe? Just say it, Uncle.” You fumed, stepping up to the man you once feared. “You wanted to humiliate me. You want me to get used, be some common man's whore.”
Aemond’s patience was running thin and when he imagined you as a whore, it ran out right before you. His feet moved with such ability as he marched in your direction, slamming you against the corner, palms glued to the wall. He breathed down your face, his sharp chin brushing against yours.
Your breath hitched, being this close to your Uncle was completely new and you were rendered speechless.
“The greens will hold you hostage.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “They will parade you around on a fucking horse for the whole of King's Landing to bear witness.”
You stared into his one eye, chest rising up and down as suddenly your body had forgotten how to lure in some air. “Could've taken me home.”
“They would take me hostage for the cause of your injured state.” He whispered, in a much softer tone. “There was nowhere for me to take you in your current state, only here.”
“A brothel, Uncle.” You said, tears once again threatening to spill and they did. Your soft sniffles echoing in the room, remembering what the man had done and how filthy his touch felt. You felt defiled and he hadn't even done something worse, something that could never be taken back. Your bloodied shoulders shook violently from how much you were crying, body going slump and Aemond quickly held you in his arms, not allowing you to succumb to the floor.
His strong arms held you — with overbearing strength, holding you whilst you cried.
In truth, you hated every bit of this war. Things were much better before the death of your grandsire, King Viserys. The crown made people greedy, the more they looked at it. It possessed the type of power which was too overwhelming for anyone and everyone. Like a curse, it slowly poisoned the mind of its bearer. The same was happening with the Greens as they had usurped your mother's throne.
“You should've left me to die.” You managed to say through your broken cries.
Aemond released a bated breath. “It was never my intention for something as grave as that to happen. It was merely an attempt to intimidate you.”
You understood him. Despite all this fucked up shit, you did. You had taken his eye out, left him disabled. His siblings had all their parts but Aemond felt empty, he felt incomplete and you had played a big part in it. Both of you had realized your mistakes a long time ago yet no one owned up to it, no one possessed the courage to reach out the other for closure.
You never apologized for the bullying encouraged by his brother, he never apologized for assaulting your brothers. You never apologized for taking his eye and he never apologized for attempting to intimidate you with his dragon — which made you suffer a great loss. Remotely close to his.
“Arrax,” you sobbed, in the arms of the man who was the cause of your state. “my poor dragon. He was so scared, I could feel it. He was afraid.”
Aemond wanted to apologize. He wanted to because he was aware of a rider’s bond with its dragon. Yet no words left his mouth, his palm running up and down your back rather awkwardly. He had absolutely no idea on what to do with you now. Your forehead was pressed into his chest as you sobbed.
But then you looked up at him, with a piercing gaze. “You are as childish and as pathetic the day I took your fucking eye out, Aemond.” This time you did not address him as your uncle and your words riled him up even more. You were at his mercy, you should not have played with fire like that and Aemond snapped.
“I'm pathetic?” He asked with darkness behind his tone. “You're the one pinned neath me. I could easily have you, take my revenge.”
“You're going to take my eye out, Uncle? Do it. Finish it, once and for all.” You seethed through gritted teeth, glaring at him. Aemond tightened his hold on your frail wrists causing you to wince and flinch. He restrained both hands with one of his and moved the other to grasp your chin, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “No, I will take something more precious, something that is worth more than an eye to a maiden such as yourself.”
“You wouldn't.” You said, shaking your head after realizing what he was hinting at. You knew the significance of your maidenhood and Aemond was going to hurt you right where it hurt the most. “I am your niece, you would not.”
“Did your mother not marry her uncle, Gevives?” (Beauty)
You flinched at the way his voice dropped when he spoke high valyrian. The situation you were in didn't help either, with Aemond’s whole body weight on top of you but enough to not crush you. The room elevated with tension as you opened your mouth to protest but a knock on the door interrupted you both.
“Come in.”
The door parted, revealing Sylvie along with a cloth in her hand and a bucket of clean water.
“Leave it on the table.” Aemond commanded, not paying her any mind and the woman obliged before leaving the room.
Your uncle reached for the cloth, soaking it into the water. You struggled, squirming in his tenacious grip and all Aemond did was keep his eye on you while he soaked the fabric fully into the water. Once it was soaked enough, he pulled it out and leaned down, face only a few inches apart from yours. Your breath got stuck in your throat.
He swiped the cloth over the blood stains on your collarbones, gently and carefully. The action itself caused arousal to pool in your cunt, your thighs squeezing together and Aemond felt it. He let out a breath, sending it to tingle your skin and you gasped out at how close he was to you.
“The idea of someone else's blood on you vexes me.” Aemond confessed, moving the fabric down to the cups of your small shoulders. He swiped it across the skin, watching as your skin became free from the taints of filth.
You licked your lips, breath ragged. “You have gone insane, Uncle.”
“I have, maybe I truly have.” Aemond’s eye was focused on the sharp bone embedded in your skin, known as your collarbone. His desires were taking the best of him and he hated himself for it. You were his niece, the same little girl who took his fucking eye out and is now his enemy — the same girl who would betray him in a heartbeat for her mother.
Abandon him for her pretender of a mother.
Yet the man did not care enough to stop whatever he was doing.
“How will you take something more precious when it is painfully obvious who is the more experienced brother, according to the rumors of the Keep.” You hissed and Aemond inhaled, a serpent you'd become in such a short span. Aemond stopped cleaning your skin, since he was finished and tossed the fabric aside.
His fingers clamped around your chin. “Keep your mouth fucking shut. You are only tempting me, niece.”
It was obviously a warning but you could not back out, not when you had held hostility all your life towards him. “For all I know, I am not even of your nature. I have heard you like them older, my Prince.” A mischievous smirk ceased your features. It was all a facade to come off strong. “Like her. Is she the one you visit in brothels? You know her too well.”
“Shut your fucking mouth before I shove my cock in it. Would you like that, hm? You're probably a pathetic little slut exactly like your mother.” Aemond threatened, suppressing the urge to strike his hand over your cheek. His grip on your chin tightened, his fingers craning your face up as his breath mingled with yours.
“How sad that the one who is putting all his effort in winning the war was never bound to get the throne nor become the object of his mother's affections.” You taunted and that hit Aemond where you wanted it to hit. “How does it feel, Uncle? To not receive an ounce of love from both your father and mother.”
“At least I am not a bastard.” He spat, and you knew that was coming. It was their one valid argument after all. “I might be a bastard but both my mother and father cherish me, love me, for who I was, for what I am. You are a sad, pathetic case.”
Aemond’s hand moved to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling you over to the bed to toss you on it like some ragdoll. You gasped when your frail body collided against the bed, feeling it bounce a little. Your brows furrowed as you turned around to face him but Aemond was already standing before you, his knee dipping into the bed.
“Let’s see if that mouth of yours can still produce coherent words when I am fucking your sweet cunt.” Breath uneven and lips shuddering, you stared at him as he pushed aside the curtains of the bed and maneuvered inside, crawling on top of you.
You tried to run, a feeble and failed attempt at escaping from the dragon you had awakened. Aemond locked you in place by one hand around your leg, pinning you down against the bed. His harsh actions made you miss the man in who's arms you had cried and how gently he held you, like you were a lover and not the one he despised the most.
“Even though you never apologized, I forgive you.” He whispered, reaching for his eye and removing the patch to reveal the familiar sapphire again. A reminder of the events that took place between you two.
You felt horrible, guilt overpowering and over consuming. “You threatened me with a stone. I was only protecting myself and my brother.”
“You humiliated me, at every chance you and that bastard brother of yours got. Were the indignities caused by my brother not enough that you two had to join in?” His tone was almost sad and you realized how awfully you had been to him, all for the sake of momentarily fun. The picture from his side was painted cruelly and your lips shivered.
Was apologizing going to be enough?
Is it going to be enough when your uncle was on top of you, about to commit the most vilest of crime.
“I'm sorry.” Came a wholehearted whisper from you, a sad expression adorning your face. “It is not enough to bring your eye back or take back everything and you do not have—”
“I told you, I forgive you.” He said, his hand cupping your shoulder, fingers tugging underneath the sleeve hanging around your arm. “But you must be punished. You must face the consequences of your own actions.”
“Uncle, we were children.” You attempted to justify but that was like sprinkle of fuel to the fire.
Aemond pulled your sleeve, causing it to rip and your eyes widened in horror. His other hand ripped the other sleeve as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. You were not only terrified but weirdly aroused too. Your uncle's anger was obvious but the subtle change between his rough tugs and gentle kisses left you light headed as well as overwhelmed. You breathed in, and then released it, in hopes that he would calm down but Aemond was too far gone.
“Uncle, stop it.” He tried to push at his chest.
Aemond grabbed your wrists, locking them over his chest. “I will only stop once I put a silver haired bastard inside you.”
“Fucking me in a whorehouse, putting a bastard in me. You have truly planned this out, no?” You said, putting up a strong facade but deep down you were scared. You did not wish to give birth to a bastard, knowing you yourself were one. Born out of wedlock to your mother and her guard, sir Harwin strong.
You knew how badly were they treated and the thought of giving birth to one pained you.
“Would you be so cruel to put a babe in me and then abandon it?” You asked — staring up at him with glossy eyes. You writhed in his hold but to no avail as his one hand clamped over your wrist while the other moved to tug at your neckline, causing your breasts to spill out.
Aemond hissed. He'd realized you had grown now and you were not the same little girl who helped his brother make his life a living hell. Your nipples rosy and hardened and he sighed, fondling the plush fat. “The image of you walking around dragonstone with my silver haired bastard tugging at the skirt of your dress, demanding attention. A reminder of what his father did to you swells my cock.”
“Get off me. You're fucking mad if you think I would carry your children.” Your endeavors to fight him were a lost cause, trying to land punches at his chest but they were gone in vain. Aemond had control, he had power over you by being stronger, more muscular. “I will drink moon tea. You cannot force me to have your child."
“Then I must keep you here and breed you every single night until you are swollen with my babe.”
He got off you and flipped you on your stomach, hands covetously ripping apart the expensive chiffon dress, revealing your bare back. Your small shoulders trembling and chills dancing down the small of your back when the cold air brushed against your skin.
“Stop it.” It came out muffled as Aemond buried your face into the mattress.
Not only had he intended to fuck you, he was going to do it like you were some common whore. Either taking you on your back or on your stomach. You bit back a soft cry as his fingertips danced across your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tears glossed your vision and you let out a tentative whimper when his hand groped a handful of your plush ass.
“It is time to pay the consequences of your actions, Bastard.” Aemond’s words were hoarse making you flinch.
He had locked you in place with his own body and soon enough he also stripped himself off his attire. You could not see, but you could hear the metallic jingling of his sword and dagger against one another, his belt and briefs shuffling together. Aemond’s hand flew back to grip your nape, forcing your face deeper into the pillow.
Your body was not fully bare as his, some aspects still covered by the tethered pieces of fabric.
Aemond reached over and hoisted you up into his arms, pushing your body on your palms and knees. Despite your struggle and continuous objection, he still managed to put you in the most degrading position ever. You were like a fucking animal — ass pushed out for him and the tears finally fell. His fingers dug into the side of your hips, holding you in place.
“I hate you, I fucking hate you.”
Your constant expressions of your loathsome did not bother Aemond in the slightest. Your mouth did not matter to him, it was your cunt that did. He didn't even mind to prepare you, all he did was align his hardened leaking tip at your soaked hole and pushed. Loud grunts and high pitched whimpers tore through you both as you felt him breach your maidenhead and defile you with determination. Bittersweet pain had blossomed in between your thighs, your cunt a bleeding mess but Aemond continued, pushing his cock furthermore until he was fully sheathed inside your walls.
“The cunt of a bastard is surely more pleasurable than a whore's. I shouldn't let you go to dragonstone, I should make you my personal little whore. For me to use and breed.”
Your cries of pain and broken sobs did not falter him as he relished them — enjoying the way your hiccups sounded. Frail and light, allowing him to have the pleasure of revenge he was denied off all his life. But not anymore, as he had you right where he wanted. This humiliation was much better than taking your eye out.
“A-Aemond,” you sobbed mindlessly, trying to wriggle out of his grasp which lead it to grow firmer. “hurts, please it hurts. Be gentle, please for the Gods.”
You knew that begging him to stop was futile but maybe if you begged enough for him to be gentle, he would be kind enough to not ravage you like some beast. Your broken little sobs worked in your favor as Aemond allowed you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of his manhood, as he had forgiven you after all.
He did not loathe you.
He only wished for consequences, for revenge.
This was it.
Aemond lowered his face next to your ears, taut chest pressed over your sweaty spine as he whispered in your ear. “If I don't take you now, I would continue to harbor ill intentions for you. This is for the best.”
It was all a lie, a way to manipulate you.
You nodded, finally succumbing and Aemond felt a strong overwhelming sense of victory wash over him.
He slowly pulled out of you before drilling back inside you, repeatedly and over the course of him pummeling his cock inside you, you became a writhing, blubbering mess. It was too much for your little body as Aemond continuously fucked his cock into you. Built like him it was. Long, slender and you'd assumed it was as beautiful as him too.
Your hands were let go from their tight hold and you found them buried into the soft sheets, fingers intertwined with the pale pillows and sheets. Each thrust sent your body forwards and you whined, feeling his cock head bruise your cervix, aiming upwards for that perfect spot of yours.
“Oh!” Your eyes rolled back to your skull at one particular thrust, feeling him hit an area unexplored.
Aemond’s brows creased together, realizing he had finally found the sweet spot he was hunting for. His movement grew relentless, in fast, deep drills he abused that sensitive area as he watched you ascend deeper into the stairs to heaven. Your knuckles had gone white from the strong hold and your knees shivered from Aemond’s force.
“If you'd given yourself up to me like this, I would not have had to hunt you to satisfy my thirst for revenge.” Aemond panted, his words accompanied by loud striking sounds of skin meeting skin. “You should have visited my chambers when you took my fucking eye out. Should have stripped naked, spread your legs for me to take your sweet cunt.”
“Please, stop,” came a broken murmur from you, wishing to forget about that god forsaken night. “d–didn't want to do it, didn't want to hurt you. I was scared, was terrified of Vhagar.”
“But you did. You took out my eye, left me hideous.” Aemond had always felt monstrous, empty and incomplete. These feelings were all gifted by you and now he wanted you to feel the same.
Left incomplete, defiled and empty.
Aemond’s hand moved down to grab a fistful of your hair from the roots, pulling up until you two were one body. His chest over your spine, as he fucked himself into you, deep and vigorous strokes. Tears streamed in tiny rivulets down your face, as Aemond circled another arm around your breasts, holding you in place to fuck you like you were some doll made for his sickly pleasures.
You made the grave mistake of moving your head and found him already staring at you. Lips parted, letting out breathless little pants and the sapphire danced in his empty socket, a reminder of your actions. He saw you, close and noticed all the features littered across your face. The freckles over your nose, the dark strands clinging to your perspired forehead and the way your nose scrunched up whenever he thrusted inside you. Gods, you were a heavenly sight, one that only he was fortunate enough to witness.
Aemond fought back the urge to claim your lips in a kiss — that action too intimate, than using your cunt to satisfy his hunger.
But eventually caved in as he took your lips into an aggressive lock, a firm kiss it was. He bite and licked at your lips, shoving a wet tongue past the pair and slithering inside like a snake. You whined, hoping that he would slow down but Aemond devoured you like a starved mad man. Teeth clashing with teeth, tongue battling with tongue, he swallowed all the little sounds you produced. His gruesome kiss had left you lightheaded when he pulled back to look at you.
In a daze you appeared.
Aemond stared at your swollen lips while you gazed upon his lips, dumbfounded and taken aback by his sudden desire to kiss you like a beast.
“I-I don't find you hideous.” It was a whimper but it caused his thrusts to stall, coming to a halt. He stared at you, surprised by your words and his stomach burned in anticipation knowing well enough you would say something worse.
But what you said next left him astonished and with a newly ignited desire. “I think you're.. pretty, prettier than Aegon.”
You couldn't compare him to your brothers as the famous targaryen features were not shared amongst them but Aegon had the same features as Aemond yet you have always found him the most prettiest Targaryen man ever. He was slim, but not in a bad way — he had the right amount of muscles and perfect height. Aemond possessed the type of beauty which did not decrease by losing an eye.
“A lie.” He growled, shaking his head.
You looked at him with the most innocent doe eyes. “I mean it. Losing an eye did not make you hideous, Aemond. You are still as beautiful as ever.”
He didn't respond and his impassive face told you that he was not phased by your genuine words but Aemond felt fucking butterflies nip at his stomach. His cock hardened even more if that were possible and he dropped you on the bed, continuing his assault. His hips snapped deliberately inside you, with newfound vigor and strength. You gasped out, your gummy walls tightening around his length as he drilled his cock inside you.
The compliment, the validation he'd received from you and how genuine it was — it drove him mad. Even his own mother failed to comfort him but you, the fucking preparator out of all people managed to. It angered him but also soothed over the burn you'd left.
Aemond felt his peak near, dancing around him and soon he reached it — his hips stuttering and his hot seed spurting inside you in ropes. “Fuck, fuck. I should fill you up and leave you here. A fucking whore with a Targaryen bastard.” You felt him taint your insides, leaving a mark that would always linger like how you'd left a scar on his face. Feeling his seed fill you up, you also unravelled as Aemond fucked the hot fluid into your womb, making sure you end up with a babe of his own.
Your eyes saw white and your thighs twitched, knees giving out and body finally colliding into the sheets. Yet Aemond continued thrusting, the wet squelching sound of your peak mixed with his grossing you out. Your tears had dried so more were released, going the same route as the ones from before.
You couldn't even resist anymore, nor rebel.
Aemond pulled his softened cock out of you and watched as your destroyed, gaping hole threw up his spent. It was hot and he shuddered at the thought of you swollen with his child.
He should've hated the idea of your breasts leaking with milk for his babe, swollen and peaked but instead he found himself aching to witness it in real life, not some fucked up imagination. He couldn't take you, as badly as he wished to. You were not his to keep but he was letting you go with a piece of him inside your womb.
He laid with you, but you'd not expected him to lay an arm over your small waist. Your body spent and completely frail from his monstrosity but Aemond wished for more, he craved more yet he gave you time to rejuvenate and collect yourself.
“Did you mean it?”
You raised your gaze at him, bemused.
“A-About me, being pretty. Did you mean it or was that also to deceive me?” He asked, failing to make eye contact. He stared ahead at the ceiling and you nodded your head slowly, throat parched. “I did. I would not lie about that.”
His chest swell up with an unfathomable feeling, something beyond his own understanding as he pulled you closer to him, subconsciously. Aemond was in a dilemma, confused about what had to be done. He wanted to be more cruel, more horrible but it was not in him to show you more cruelty than you deserved.
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adragonprinceswhore · 6 months ago
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Warm Me Up
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Summary: When his wife speaks out of turn during a dinner with the King, Aemond needs to reprimand her indiscretions.
Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, wife!reader, dom/sub undertones, temperature play, (slight) humiliation, talk of obedience, heavy petting, (light) bondage, P in V, a little angsty in the begging, a little fluffy in the end
A/N: Okay so editing took much longer than anticipated - you could tell this was the first fic (read: smut) I wrote. This has had a real make-over, please enjoy!
Word Count: 3300
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Getting to know your new spouse after a hasty wedding had been a far lengthier process than your swift unification.
When first being presented to Prince Aemond, you’d been unsure of how to approach him. His stoic façade and short-worded answers left you wondering if he’d ever let you get to know him, or if you’d spend a lifetime with a shell of a person; too stubbornly proud to let anyone in. However, with time, you've noticed that the imperturbable prince is a loyal husband, and by opening yourself up a bit to him, he returned the favour by allowing you to get to know him as well. 
You’d now grown closer than you’d ever dared imagined. Most fears from the beginning of your union had been washed away by the prince's attentive nature, and you feel thoroughly satisfied with the state of your marriage.
You and Aemond connect and relate to each other immensely, being far more alike than appearances might presume. Behind closed doors, there barriers previously separating the two of you from each other had essentially vanished.
In public, however, you did not always see eye to eye. 
The grip Aemond has around your arm feels bruising as he led you into your shared chambers, letting go of you only to close and bar the door with a heavy thud.
“Have I not asked you to watch your tongue in the presence of others?”
He's still facing the door, low, soft voice sending a chill through the blood furiously pumping through your body.
The tension in his shoulders is evident, and the way his voice sounds unnaturally calm lets you know that he is trying hard to sound composed. 
You knew from the moment you raised your voice that Aemond would not approve. That he'd be displeased with you.
Yet, you could not hinder the words from spilling from your lips, entire being suddenly consumed with irritation over the thoughtless remark King Aegon had uttered during dinner.
“It was not my intention to speak out of turn, husband. But you know as well as I do that the King’s comment-”
“It does not matter! I’ve asked you to hold your tongue in public, especially when it comes to my brother”, he interrupts, the fake calmness he’d previously tried to maintain slipping away,
“Engaging with him will only rile him up. He will not relent until he’s had the last word and left you humiliated. Do you truly wish to enter a battle like that with the King? You know it will serve no good”
You swallow thickly and look down at the floor, overwhelmed with feelings of regret and shame. Your husbands eyes bore into you, challenging you to fight back, yet you do not feel brave enough to defy him.
You're not even brave enough to meet his gaze.
You hear him sigh and walk towards where you stand, voice calmer yet somehow more authoritative than before,
“Take off your dress and get on the bed”
You knew not to argue, feeling a tiny spark of excitement at the possibility of him disciplining you for your transgressions at dinner. You had gone against his wishes before, hoping he would spank you, as you had found yourself getting impossibly aroused from the act.
During such instances, however, he had been far less displeased with you. This time, you hadn’t defied him with a cheeky grin and a glint in your eye. This time, you had been unable to keep your mouth shut, momentarily forgetting yourself.
You follow his orders wordlessly and take off your dress, quickly working your fingers along the buttons of your bodice in order to yank it down your body. Stepping out of the garment, you raise your head to look Aemond in the eye, showing him that you’d follow his commands without resistance. 
“Your smallclothes as well, wife. Take everything off and get on the bed, on your belly”. 
You do as he says without much thought, feeling your heart beat harder in your chest in anticipation in what’s to come.
You cannot decipher if you feel excitement or dread when pondering on what he will do next, yet you eagerly wait to find out more.
Aemond’s seeing eye trails down your naked form, sternly observing you as you step out of your smallclothes and get on the bed, again heeding his demand without protest.
He undoes his belt and instructs you to tuck your legs under your body, leaving you no option but to press your face against the soft, moss-coloured sheets of your marital bed.
Kneeling on the bed behind you, he takes both your hands and tie them behind your back, the rough, stiff leather of his belt pressing into the delicate skin of your wrists.
He moves off the bed and kneels next to it, taking your chin in his hand. He moves you so that you’re facing him, letting his thumb rest softly against your cheekbone.
He still appears stoic, but you can see the fury dancing in his eye as he looks into yours,
“I will know if you’ve moved”
You swallow thickly. How long does he plan on leaving you here?
He stands up, takes one final look at your naked silhouette, and leaves, shutting the door behind him. 
Once alone, the reality of the situation begins to settle.
The hearth has not been lit, and the chilling autumn air easily penetrates the chambers through the large windows facing the sea.
King’s Landing suffered more from heat than chill, and the Red Keep was built to allow air to flow through the castle, rather than to keep warmth in. Without your clothes and the hearth, you found the room you otherwise regarded as a comforting haven to be chill and foreign. 
After some time of disturbing silence, unease creeps up your chill spine and enters your rapidly beating heart.
Had Aemond locked the door?
What if someone were to enter, just to find you in this humiliating state; arse on display for all to see?
Your heart beats faster.
Fiercer.
You know you could easily turn your body around and get off the bed, despite being unable to move your arms.
The thought feels more tempting as your skin grows colder; gooseflesh spreading over your unmoving arms and legs. Only one thoughts keeps you still,
What would Aemond think?
You’d already upset him, and part of you knows that what you did had been foolish. Speaking in the way you did to the King would have left others without their tongue.
Aemond had spared you.
He needs to know that you regret your indiscretions; that you are a better wife than what your actions had shown earlier.
So you relax your jaw to stop your teeth from shaking, inhale deeply, and wait.
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You do not know how much time has passed when Aemond finally returns.
You find it hard not to shiver. Your body has gone impossibly cold, and your feet and hands already feel numb.
He comes up to the side of the bed, looking down at your trembling body with satisfaction dancing in his lilac eye.
“Have you learnt your lesson yet, wife?” he asks. You hum weakly, wishing he would allow you to get dressed, if only to end your agony; both the one evident across your cold skin and inside of your chest.
His eye flickers from your exposed bottom to your face, the hint of a smile pulling at hush lips,
“And you haven’t moved since I left?”
You softly shake your head, watching as your husband’s eye crinkles from the victorious smile he wears.
“I knew you were a good wife. I am so proud of your display of obedience”
As he speaks, he places a warm palm on your cold buttock, prompting you to let out a surprised moan from the intensely pleasurable feeling.
Aemond’s smile grows wider, causing dimples to appear on his cheeks.
You don't know if you’ve ever seen them before. 
“Does my sweet wife need me to warm her up?”
He almost sounds taunting, yet you could not care less. The hand he had placed on your buttock comes back to rub your lower back, and the heat from his palm feels so good; so warm.
So comforting.
“Yes, husband. Please touch me”
Swiftly moving to kneel behind you, he places both of his large hands on the back of your thighs, slowly trailing them upwards, halting at your shoulders. You sigh loudly, relishing in the wonderful feeling of his warm hands on your cold body. The feeling of relief accompanied by his touch is so strong it feels foreign; like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.
As he continues to caress your body, you notice the demanding ache of arousal between your thighs intensify. You hadn’t really paid attention to the wetness collecting there, but now that a drop slides down your exposed thigh, you cannot disregard the effect your husbands touch has on you, even when his intentions are not of a entirely lewd nature.
The next time his wandering hands reach your buttocks, they travel to your front, caressing your belly and cupping your breasts. You moan again, no longer recognising yourself or this newly discovered inability to control your mouth. 
You hear Aemond sigh behind you as he leans down over your body, placing a few kisses on your shoulders. His touch stays on your breasts, kneading them with an increasingly harsh grip.
The leather of his tunic and breeches do not feel as comforting as his warm hands and you hiss as your chilled back makes contact with his cold, stiff attire. 
“Please husband, take off your clothes. I crave your warmth”
Aemond hums in reply to your plea, pulling away briefly to discard his clothes on the floor. You try to turn your head and look at him, but the awkward position your body is in does not allow for you to move your head, cheek still pushed into the bed.
Soon you feel the bed dip again behind you, Aemond now so close that his thighs touch the back of yours. 
They say that the blood of the dragon runs hot, and perhaps you’ve never been more pleased at having married a Targaryen; revelling in the way his heated skin gives you relief from the cold air of your stoney chambers. 
Your husband begins to gently trace his palms across your body once more, stopping at your waist before wrapping both of his arms around the dip there, slowly pressing down to rest his heavy body on top of yours.
Again, you moan at how good the warmth of his skin feels against yours, the want between your naked thighs intensifying.
Aemond tucks his head in your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin,
“Does this feel good, wife?”, he mumbles into your hair. 
“Yes”, you sigh, feeling wholly consumed by him.
The familiar hardness pressing against your behind does not go unnoticed, and you take pride in knowing that you’re not completely at his mercy.
He’s at yours as well.
“You’ve been such a sweet, obedient wife for me. Ask me anything and I’ll be a sweet, obedient husband for you” he says, moving his head from your neck to press fleeting kisses down your shoulder.
You know what he wants you to answer; know that he loves you submissive, begging for him to make you feel good. 
“Please, keep touching me”, you request as he moves off of you to sit on his haunches behind your kneeling form, taking your tied up hands in his and gently undoing his belt.
He discards it on the floor next to his own leathers, gentle fingers softly caressing your wrists, noticing the red remnants of his belt there.
Grabbing your arms, Aemond carefully places them down by your head. He leans in to kiss your cheek, tucking away a strand of hair that has fallen to cover your face.
His palms travel from your arms down your torso, ending up on your bottom again. 
“Do you wish for me to touch you here, sweet girl?”
His voice is loving yet his touch is not as he begins to knead your buttocks a bit too harshly for your liking. You do not dare to protest though, the feeling of his warm hands on your cold body too good to endanger.
You simply moan again, head moving to look back at him, the same confident smirk still illuminating his face.
“Or would you like me to touch you here?”
One of his hands trail down between your buttocks to meet your soaking centre, and he huffs out a chuckle at the wet sounds of your arousal echoing in your quarters.
“Such a wanton little thing you’ve become. Does obeying your prince arouse you so?”
Though you adore the feeling of his fingers caressing your womanhood, the lack of his warm body pressing against yours causes you to shiver again.
Aemond suddenly withdraws his hand from between your thighs, evoking a displeased whine to leave your lips.
In return, he releases an amused huff, thoroughly entertained by the desperate way you’ve come to crave him. 
He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, fisting his already hard cock a few times before turning to you, beckoning you to come over with a flick of his head.
You eagerly get up from the bed, swaying clumsily as your stiff legs feel unstable from the extended time you’ve been kneeling on the bed. 
You stand in front of him, between his spread out thighs.
He appears just as calculated as he always does; long, silky hair neatly falling down his broad shoulders, and brown, worn eyepatch securely fastened around his head.
It’s only his eye, the expressive one on display, that shows his true intentions.
His hunger.
Aemond leans forward to place a chaste kiss to your stiff nipple, then moves to do the same to the other. Both of his large, warm hands find home on your hips, and you sigh at the wonderful relief yet again.
He turns you around, grabs your hips once more, and manoeuvres you so that you’re bending down with your back towards him.
He grabs his cock, hard and leaking with arousal, and moves it up and down your slit, allowing it to explore the path from your pearl, all the way down to the cleft of your arse.
He smears your slick everywhere; there’s so much of it that it taints your entire centre. Had you been more sensible, you might’ve found the act sullying and lewd. Now, it causes more desire to drip out of you.
When he places the tip at your entrance, he wraps his muscular arms around you, pushing you down in a swift motion to impale you on his cock.
Although you have had him more times than you can count, the stretch stings as he forces you to take all of him at once.
More overpowering, however, is the feeling of relief your cold skin is granted as Aemond envelops you in his arms, holding on to you so tightly it’s like he wants to squeeze the life out of you.
He does not neglect your desires though; his cock instantly finds that spot within you that makes you feel weightless and heavy at the same time.
It’s almost too much to handle; the sharp, intense pleasure.
You groan loudly, throwing your head back to rest on Aemond’s shoulder. 
He continues to thrust up into your cunt, using the grasp he has on your body to continuously impale you on his cock. You try to keep up with his pace, but the immense pleasure sprinting through you being leaves you incapable of doing much, so you stay limp in his unyielding hold, allowing him to use you in any way he pleases.
The harsh sounds of your skin smacking against his, his cock repeatedly fucking your wet hole and your combined breaths fill the room, seeping out of the still uncovered windows.
Aemond keeps a steady pace, the muscles of his toned arms flexing around your body as he takes his pleasure from your cunt.
His face is pressed to yours, cheek to cheek, as he breathes loudly through his nose. Tilting his head, his mouth right next to your ear, he whispers,
“You do not know what you do to me, sweet wife. I cannot stay cross with you for long, even when I wish to”
With the little strength and physical control you still possess, you turn your head to face him, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to pour all your pent up feelings of excitement, nervousness and devotion into the kiss.
One of your hands seeks his, and you pry it off the grip it has right under your breast, taking hold of it and guiding it down to the apex of your thighs. With his hand in yours, you begin to draw small, determined circles on your pearl, pressing on his fingers to let him know how firm you want his touch to be. 
Your peak approaches you quickly; aggressively, as the knot in your lower belly tightens within you. As it finally bursts, you press your head back against Aemond’s shoulder, a cry loud enough to alert the entire Red Keep of your activities accompanying the pure bliss overtaking you.
Your body jerks in Aemond’s arms, pleasure sending lightning bolts from your core down to your toes and up into your chest. 
“Fu-, fuck, your cunt’s-”, Aemond interrupts himself with a groan as the tightening pulsation of your heat around him sets off his own peak. 
His hips buck up into you for a few more seconds before he stills, holding you tightly in his arms as his weary head moves down to rest on your shoulder. 
“Would you like me to call for the servants to pour you a bath, my love? Warm you up?”, he inquires, still out of breath.
You let out an exhausted laugh and turn yourself slightly in his arms to face your husband again.
His cheeks are flustered and pink, eye half-open. He looks equal parts tired and satisfied, and you realise you probably look the same.
“You have successfully thawed me, dear husband. Now all I ask of you is that you allow me to stay in your embrace”
For a second he almost looks bashful at your words, but before you have a chance to ponder it further, he lifts you off of him and helps you lay down on the bed, this time tucking you in underneath the furs before quickly fetching a cloth to clean you up. When he’s done he tosses it on the floor and climbs down to lay next to you, pulling you towards him with your face right in front of his, so close your noses bump together.
“It is not my desire for you to mind your tongue when we are alone”, he speaks quietly, meeting your eyes in an attempt to reason with you.
“But you must understand that life at court is unforgiving, especially if you attempt to speak against the King”.
You nod softly.
His thumb travels down to caress your cheekbone,
“I could not bear to see you hurt. I only wish for you to obey me since I care for your well-being”
It feels like your heart is melting at his words; spilling from your chest down into your limbs. You press your forehead against his and close your eyes, revelling in the feeling of adoration you have towards your husband.
You realise that you’ve never said it before, but you could not have stopped the confession from slipping out even if you’d wanted to,
“I love you”
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spideyanakin · 24 days ago
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Omg requests for fiyero!
How about an angsty childhood best friends to strangers to lovers? Maybe growing up together, parting ways and then reuniting at shiz?
Thank you!
purple butterflies (fiyero. t)
synopsis ➾ gn! reader, purple butterflies and strawberry tarts; the memories of him who turned bittersweet with growing up. He replaced them with lovers and careless days. You replaced the memories with studying and focusing on your future, never thinking your new worlds would ever collide. [w.c 4k]
warnings ➾ reader is heartbroken and sassy, angst, fiyero being cute, me being shit at science and inventing my own rules bc let's face it this takes place in a magic land
authors note - omg stop I ADORE this request, I've had so much fun writing this <3 hope you like it. also i hope i didn't miss any accidental pronouns, i wanted to make this gn, lmk if i did!.
fiyero masterlist
main masterlist
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and strawberry tarts (p.2)
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Purple butterflies and strawberry tarts. If you were careful you could still taste the faint sourness of the fresh strawberries from the grounds of Kiamo Ko. The freshly made dough and the sugar sprinkled on top, caramelised just enough to balance it with soft bitterness.
But now it seemed the bitterness conquered it all. Turned the strawberries tasteless, the pie crust burnt to an overbearing crisp and the sugar overcooked, with it chased away the butterflies and turned the grass greener on the other side.
Kiamo Ko had been left empty by the prince a long time ago. When his turbulent personality started bubbling up to the surface, the king and queen started to grasp every straw they possibly could, clinging for any solution to mend their son’s behavior.
When the list of tutors fell short, by the twentieth one who ran out of the castle with freshly broken glasses and a dirt stained shirt, howling scandal as he pushed himself through the doors—it had been a final decision. Fiyero was to be sent to boarding school.
With him gone, emptiness was brought to Kiamo Ko, and his family decided to move away. To another castle, another place that would better suit their new needs.
Your family was thanked for their service. Your father retired from his duties in the royal guard, and stayed behind to tend your farm. Only your eldest brother had accompanied the royals in their new life.
It's not like you wanted to become strangers. You tried to grasp at your friendship. Sending him letter after letter. But when the letters went unanswered, you were left with a universe of unanswered feelings. Unanswered questions that would forever cloud your heart.
With that, the prince became a distant memory. Chasing fluorescent purple butterflies in the gardens of Kiamo Ko at night and eating his mother's strawberry tarts became faded dreams.
Your only source of information became gossips and your brother's occasional letter, reporting on Fiyero's short stays at the new castle.
You heard he had asked about you, once, maybe twice. But as years passed, and his interests fully shifted, so did yours.
~
Your vile was running out of ink. Your fingers were stained blue, from your palm to the very tips of your fingers--stains you would struggle removing.
Your scribbles were getting rougher. You needed to finish this, you wanted to finish this before the clock struck three. You were getting a headache, your blueish hand was cramping, and you were starting to stain the parchment.
But people were squeaking, whispering, and where the library once felt quiet and peaceful it now felt like a coffee shop on saturday afternoons, filled to the brim with gossipers.
You continued scribbling. Something about Munchkinland being saved from rebels. A leader, a general was involved in the lot, you couldn't remember his name, you wanted to remember his name. So you continued to fill the paper with nonsense until his name would come to your mind.
But you were running out of ink. The loops felt lighter, were lighter, you wouldn't have enough to finish. So you pressed th quill further on the page. You continued to write, a sentence than another, a word than another.
Snap.
Fuck. Your feather snapped in half.
"Dammit."
"You alright?" Elphaba broke your turbulent mind, glancing towards you.
That's when she noticed; the broken quill, the stained hands, the essay dirtied in front of you.
"Fine," you mumbled, throwing the quill aside. "I thought I could finish this today."
"It's not due til next week, you'll be fine."
"Hm," you wanted to rub your forehead, but quickly realised it wouldn't be a good idea.
Elphaba saw it, she fished for her handkerchief in her pocket and handed it to you.
You thanked her, cursing again when you realised the extent of the mess on your fingers.
"What's going on?" She asked when another sigh escaped your lips.
"Nothing," you mumbled. "I have a headache, I'm hungry, tired-"
"You're working too much."
"I need to pass this class. Since Mr. Dillamond left-"
"I know. We're all in the same situation here, don't worry about it."
"Right..." You continued wiping your fingers. She was right. The whole class had been going on a down spree since the new teacher arrived. He was harsh, focused on shallow things from history you shouldn't be studying. Where once it was about analyzing the impact history had on the lands of today, his class became about glorifying the heroes still alive and spreading propaganda.
It didn't help that the whole school seemed to be brewing with anticipation. Your gaze caught once again for the fourth time that day; three students whispering and giggling to each other about something. They were squeaking and blushing.
"What is going on?" You huffed, twisting the handkerchief.
"A prince arrived at school or something."
"Prince?" You raised an eyebrow. You wondered who it could possibly be. Most princes of Oz had already graduated university, and as far as you knew, Fiyero was on the other side of Oz studying at Killimand.
"Oh Oz," you cursed, one of your bracellets had been contaminated by the ink. You wanted to cry, or maybe it was just the nerves from the day building up. This was your favorite. It had too many memories attached, memories you didn’t want to forget just yet.
"What happened?"
"Bracelet's stained," you tried to clean it but it kept falling from your grip.
"Here, let me help," she grabbed your wrist and the handkerchief.
Indeed the small butterfly wing pendant had been stained by blue.
"Here," she smiled, wiping it clean. "All good." She dropped your hand and placed the fabric back in her pocket. "It's pretty," she noticed as you checked it. "Anyone has the other half?"
"How do you know it has another half?"
"It's half a butterfly," she suggested and you smiled at the observation.
"It is. I don't think anyone has the other half," you replied with a tight smile. You knew the other half had existed, but whether or not it still did, or was still worn by its owner was another question. You started to fold your essay and clean your writing supplies. "So, this prince?"
"Oh, yeah, everyone is already swooning over him. Stumbled across him, he didn't seem like the brightest."
"Does he have a name?"
"It's that Winkie prince, Fiyero something-"
"Fiyero Tigelaar?" You gulped, and your face must have fallen because Elphaba scrunched her eyebrows.
"You know him?"
"N-no," you quickly shook your head, "just heard of him... Everyone has-" you breathed, why your hands were getting clammy?
"I'm going to go, I'll see you tomorrow," you collected the last of your stuff. Shoving your books and quill in your bag faster than you realised.
Elphaba looked so confused, you almost felt bad, almost wanted to turn around to apologize, but your mind was already on overdrive. Your chest was starting to uncontrollably heave--you needed to get out, quickly.
Fiyero was here? At Shiz?
If you thought you were having a bad day, you didn't think it could get any worse. The one person that you thought you would never see again was now roaming the very halls of your University. You'd probably share a class or two with him if you were truly that unlucky.
Oz, what did you do to deserve this?
Would he even remember you? Would he even realize the heartache he had caused you?
Would he remember what he had told you that night under the stars when it was official he would be leaving to boarding school? How he had held your hand, squeezed it so tight so you would remember his touch.
Would he even remember chasing purple butterflies for the last time together that night. How impatient he had been, how he scared them, making them flutter away, only for the small creatures to circle the both of you.
How the butterflies, the moonlight, and the silent trees were the only other witnesses to him kissing you.
Your first kiss.
His first kiss.
Though it would be his first kiss of many; a start to a life of accumulated lovers, you reminded yourself as you clenched your books a little tighter.
You had just been his first victim.
That night, under the stars of Winkie country as fluorescent purple butterflies swarmed around you, as his hand slithered around your waist, the other brushing the apple of your cheek in a sealing touch. That night he had sealed the fate of your heart with his lips.
Because the next morning he had left you and Kiamo Ko behind with no regrets, only preparing himself for his new life ahead.
"And so this is the library," Glinda's voice mumbled over your ears. You were too focused on your boiling thoughts to even register her, or to notice the figure trailing behind her.
You royally bumped into them, full strength as you attempted to dart out of the library.
Whoever he was; he was strong. Years of training behind him as you felt his arm wrap around your shoulder in attempt to cushion the crash.
"Wow hey there, watch out," his voice was soft, charming, familiar almost- "Ranger!?" He squeaked in delight. Your mind swirled, no one had called you that since-
Fiyero.
You opened your eyes to meet his.
Indeed you were face to face with him, his arms still wrapped around you.
He was older, but then so were you. He didn't change a bit though, still as handsome, maybe even more charming than before. You found yourself staring up at the same blue eyes, the same grin you remembered and loved.
Your heart looped in your chest, and that's when you knew you had to get out of here, quickly.
But as he looked at you his eyes sparkled, and the brightest smile you had ever seen him wear raised upon his features, somehow your feet were stuck in place.
"Oh Oz! How have you been?" Fiyero did not hesitate to cage you in his arms again, and suddenly you couldn't breathe.
His hug was perfect. Just like you remembered. As if the years had never passed and you still fitted against one another like two pieces of a puzzle.
Two wings of the same butterfly.
You felt incapable of reciprocating the hug. He didn't feel the same, yet he felt exactly like you remembered. He smelled the same, jasmin, fresh roses and leather, almost intoxicating as the memories came crashing through again.
You wanted to cry. Right there in the middle of the Shiz library, as his arms were wrapped around you; you wanted to cry.
Suddenly you craved Cruck, your rabbit stuffed animal that you left behind under the soft covers of your childhood room. You wanted to be tucked into your pastel sheets by your mother. You wanted to fall asleep with a smile on your lips as you remembered the day's adventure. That sleep would take you as you dreamt of the roses of Kiamo Ko; because you knew you would wake up just to run to them again the next morning.
Because you knew that after your mother attempted to have you eat breakfast, you would run back to the castle just to find Fiyero waiting for you up in the tree by the gates.
You almost melted into the hug. Almost.
Because after the jasmin, the roses and the leather there had been heartbreak. The lost letters, the unanswered calls. The empty promises.
"I'm alright," you attempted, still crushed in his grip.
"You two know each other?" Galinda squeaked behind her books. Eye brows scrunching, of course she would be the one showing him around.
"Yeah!" Fiyero bounced on his heels, loosening his grip on you.
He was gazing at you as if you were a wonder of the world and you did not like it one bit.
Hand still on your shoulder, people were starting to gather around, curiosity getting the best of them. After all, you had suddenly become a competition in the conquering of his heart.
But the more eyes were on you, the tenser you felt--and Fiyero did not seem to care or even notice.
"Yeah! Her brother works for the royal guard, we grew up together! Oz! How have you been?" He repeated, and you blinked--was he truly this happy to see you?
You wanted to disappear into the books, melt into the shelves, and be one with the stories.
"I've been fine," it was colder, drier than you wished. You didn't want to speak to him that way, but you couldn't help yourself. "I have to go Fiyero."
He almost seemed disappointed. You almost felt bad.
"See you around?"
You didn't reply.
You left without even glancing back to him.
~
The clock was ticking painfully slow, and you watched as Mr. Willows grabbed yet again another bicker from the shelves by his side.
He placed it on his desk and stepped towards the small glass greenhouse. Five small bright neon blue mushrooms stood proudly atop a mound of dirt.
He delicately removed the glass top of the greenhouse and the mushrooms suddenly lost all their fluorescence, turning grey white. You carefully watched as he plucked one right out and dropped it into the bicker.
As he placed the glass jar back on top and the mushroom's colors shone brightly again, he grumbled in his low voice, "Now, do you know what causes their fluoresces?" He turned his glass-hidden eyes towards the twenty-six heads in front of him.
No answers.
You hesitated, but giggles stopped you. Giggles coming from the back left of the classroom, not far from the door.
In the quiet of the room, all eyes turned to them. Of course, they had bloomed from Fiyero's chest, and you eyed as he leaned back in his chair smirking, with a blushing Galinda by his side.
"Is there something funny Mr. Tigelaar?"
Fiyero seemed to be taken aback, but he brushed it off just as quickly, "no, please continue with what you were saying."
"Can you answer the question for me?"
He blinked.
"Could you repeat the question?"
"What causes the fluoresce of those mushrooms?"
"The fact that they're magic?" Fiyero poorly offered, and you were sure it had caused a laugh from a red-headed girl sitting across you.
Mr. Willows sighed, placing his glasses further up his nose.
"Anyone else?"
"It's caused by the chemical reaction of their molecules when it's exposed to dark lights. The moon is enough to light them in nature, but during the day, to see it you'd have to place it in special glass, like the one you have, Sir."
"Very good. At least someone is paying attention."
You missed the grin Fiyero was throwing you.
~
"Hey, Ranger!" His voice caught in your ears, tangling like honey and seeping through every parts of you.
You were tempted to escape, but somehow he had melted your feet to the ground, and all you could do was wait for him to catch up, "still love being the smarter one I see?" He offered, leaning to you with a sly grin.
What game was he playing?
"Fiyero, it was a simple answer, you should have known that."
"Will you come to the Oz dust tonight?"
"No. I've got to study."
"C'mon! It will give us a chance to catch up!"
"No," your reply was stern, and you could almost catch a glimpse of disappointment across his features; same as this morning in the library.
"Do it for me, please?" he pouted, big blue eyes sparkling again--and suddenly you were back in the gardens of Kiamo Ko, with a pleading boy prince, begging that you join on his mischief.
"I'll think about it," you sighed, tightening your grip on your books as you started bouncing on your heels to leave. Oz, you'd have to work on the effects his charm had on you.
You were over him.
You had been over him for years, or so you thought.
"You better be there," he pointed out.
"I'll think about it," you repeated, giving him a short smile before finally disappearing into a corridor.
~
"So what was that about? Your dramatic, I don't know Fiyero, but I clearly do?" Elphaba raised an eyebrow, looking up from her book.
"It's nothing," you huffed, focusing on your history book. You turned around on your bed, your back towards Elphaba in a silent plea to stop the questions.
"I'm calling it bullshit."
"I'm allowed my secrets," you mumbled against your pillow.
"No," she grinned. "Not with the way he was staring at you."
"Same way he stares at everyone."
"Galinda will beg to differ. She's been pestering me with questions about you all day!"
You heard shuffling from behind you, and glanced from the corner of your eye to see Elphaba closing her book and marching the few steps towards you.
"Then let her think. It will do her some good to use that brain of hers," you turned your focus back on your textbook--eyes squinting as you turned the page; only to be met with Winkie Country in bold black letters, with a drawing of the plains and cities below it.
"Ugh," you harshly closed the book, slapping it across the bed.
"Will you tell me at least?" You barely noticed as she sat by the foot of your bed.
"There's nothing much to say," your eyes met hers. "We grew up together, then we lost contact."
"And nothing else happened?"
"No," you lied.
"I refuse to believe that."
"That's what you will have to do, sorry," you sighed and stared at your ceiling lamp, a pretty purple crystal flower blooming from the ceiling.
"Right..." She paused in thought, you were almost curious as to what she would say next. "Well I don't, and I'll keep pestering you about it."
"It's almost curfew, you need to get back to your dorm," you mumbled, sitting up and grabbing your hair brush from your bedside table.
"Stop changing the subject," she warned. "Galinda's probably there getting ready with her two shadows anyway."
"Tweedle dee and Tweedle dumb," you laughed to yourself, starting to detangle your hair. "Are you going to the Oz dust with them?"
"No. You?"
You shook your head no, snuggling deeper into the cushions of your bed.
"I heard Fiyero asked you to come," she teased.
"You heard nothing," you pointed to her with the tip of your hair brush. "Now get out before I throw that book in your face," you accentuated your words by pushing your textbook toward her with your toes.
"Fine," she chuckled. "I'm warning you, I'll get the answers out of you somehow," and with those words, she disappeared through the doors of your dorm, leaving you alone with the shadows of your thoughts.
Your eyes went back to the lamp on your ceiling before fluttering closed. You sighed through your nose, heart squeezing in your chest.
Pictures of a dancing boy in a pastel green suit flashed before your closed eyes before you could stop them. The polished marble floors of the great hall as music flowed. Your father in a uniform, adorned by medals; a change to his usual knight's armor you rarely saw him out of. Your mother in her most beautiful dress by his side.
Fiyero dragging you through the dancing bodies, causing havoc once again. The Queen scolding him later that evening.
You almost expected to open your eyes to the beautiful adorned ceiling of Kiamo Ko's great hall, but when you did, you weren't met with the familiar stained glass. You weren't met with the family portraits of generations of Tigelaars.
You were met with that damned purple ceiling lamp.
Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go...
Maybe you could get some answers out of him?
Maybe you could finally get some closure.
But could you handle the hypocrisy? Could you handle seeing him dancing with Galinda, just for him to look at you with puppy dog eyes the second she was out of his sight?
~
Your outfit felt tight against your body. Tighter than it usually did. The purple mesh pooled around you perfectly as you walked, trailing behind you gracefully with each step. For a golden second, you felt like you belonged here, walking down the steps of the Oz dust.
The music was loud, echoing through the cave in its gripping melody. People were cheering, singing lyrics you did not know, and it suddenly felt as if you were drowning, maybe you were. Caged under the ocean in a bubble of music, sweat, and fairy dust.
That's when you spotted him. He was dancing with a boy you shared mathematics with. Jory, a tall handsome blonde that had most students swooning before Fiyero had stepped a foot at Shiz.
You noticed Galinda was nowhere to be found, nor was Elphaba.
You breathed.
You could do this.
If your biggest fear was Galinda's judgment, and she wasn't even there, then why was your heart beating out your chest the more your feet took you down the stone steps?
You twisted the fabric of your sleeves as you darted towards the bar. You smiled at the waiter before ordering your drink, your rings clinking with your coins as you placed them on the marble counter. to pay.
And suddenly he was there. Like a shadow he appeared, attracted to you like a moth to a flame.
"You came," there was a smile in his voice you couldn't deny. It made you at a loss for words, awkwardly swallowing as you figured out what you should say.
"Where's your date?" You finally spoke, keeping your gaze focused on your hands on the counter.
"Left with her roommate."
"Hm,"
"I'm glad you're here," his voice was soft over the music, yet you could still hear it just as clearly.
You didn't reply, simply smiled before turning your attention to the drink the waiter slid to you.
You took a sip, bathing in the silence between you.
Fiyero's silence was loud, so loud your ears were ringing.
Before you could even register, his hand reached to yours. Pinky finger searching your own on the polished counter. You watched, unable to let your attention fly from his hand. The moment felt painfully slow, and too fast all at once.
Suddenly you saw it, the pull of your butterfly pendent.
You noticed his only after, the golden bracelet amidst the myriad of others; leather cuffs, silver, and gold chains. But the one you had placed upon his wrists years ago was still there, and as his hand crept closer, the two pendants collided like they were meant to.
The magnets merged and the purple butterfly was whole again.
Two wings of the same butterfly.
You gazed up to see him, just to find his eyes already on yours.
Neither of you spoke, scared to break the silence.
Your vision was getting blurry, your breath was becoming chopped. Now you really felt like you were drowning.
Drowning in a myriad of purple butterflies.
You were back in that forest. His eyes were the ones of a small boy again, standing amidst the gardens of his home. The jasmin, the roses and the leather were engulfing you whole, filling your lungs to the brim.
"Dance with me."
"We shouldn't-"
"Please?"
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697 notes · View notes
explorevenus · 1 year ago
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addicted ♡ re2r!leon kennedy x reader
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nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call the cops
word count - 2.9k
description - by the end of the summer, you're bound for college and your boyfriend leon is bound for his shiny new police officer job in raccoon city. knowing your relationship could be threatened by the distance, your need for each other has become insatiable.
tags/warnings - porn with plot, soft dom leon, car sex, cunnilingus (f receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, mildly angsty, no use of (Y/N)
a/n - this was a request by my beautiful goth puppy wife chaos baby @nexysworld <333 special thanks to @dollfacefantasy for beta reading and believing in me and also being my momager <3
recommended listening - addicted by saving abel
my masterlist ♡
my ao3 ♡
thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w; <3
-venus ♡
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Young adulthood felt so scary and new and weird.
You and Leon had been dating since high school and now you were fully legal adults, figuring out what to do with your lives and pretending you would both fit together seamlessly in each other’s plans. Just weeks ago he had graduated from the police academy and you had until the end of the summer to spend as much time together as possible before he would move into the city to become an officer, and you would be moving states away to attend college.
You told each other you would visit as often as possible, that you would call every day, that as soon as you finished school you would move back to Raccoon City to be with him, or he would find a hiring police station near you to settle into, and you would live happily ever after.
But there was a silent, knowing melancholy that hung over you all the while, and it intensified every day. Neither of you wanted to address it, for fear of spoiling what little time you had left, so it just hung there unspoken as you clung to each other for dear life.
Leon knocked quietly on your door, hoping not to wake your roommates. It was a crisp, clear summer evening and the forecast indicated a meteor shower would be visible, so as soon as he finished up at work, he took the top off of his Jeep, loaded the back with blankets and made his way to you.
His heart softened at the image of you wrapped in a blanket, ducking out of your apartment to follow him out to the car. It was nearing midnight and you were already in pajamas, but it felt right that way. Comfortable. 
Soon enough you were sipping slushies from the gas station, your sneakers kicked up on the dashboard and the wind rushing through your hair as Leon drove the two of you up the base of the Arklay Mountains. There was a little lookout tucked away less than five miles up, one you frequented together practically since you met. This lookout had seen numerous makeouts and unquantifiable hours of conversation, silly and stupid and serious and solemn.
The car slowed to a stop and Leon threw it in park, moving his seat back so he could get comfortable. His lips were stained pink with cherry slush as he looked over to you with a gentle smile.
“Pretty, huh?” He asked, watching as you stared up at the sky, awe-filled eyes searching every gap in the void for a shooting star. His warm, broad hand still rested on your thigh, thumb skimming over the soft fabric of your sweatpants in a gentle caress. 
Relaxing into his touch, you nodded, looking over at him now. Your own lips and tongue were tinted blue and what remained of your slushie was cold in the palm of your hand. It was funny, you thought, that you’d driven all the way out here to watch the meteor shower but still, you couldn’t help but watch each other. The breeze blew warm and the radio played lowly.
“You’re pretty,” You replied quietly, playing with his fingers. Even having been together for years, he still managed to make you shy.
Leon let out a soft laugh and shook his head, his other hand coming forward to tip your chin up. “You’re pretty too,” He began, and you were just beginning to blush when he added, “Pretty corny.”
You threw your head back and groaned dramatically, swatting at his chest. “You’re pretty annoying,” You griped, but before you could continue your playful rant, he guided you back toward him and pressed his lips against your own, and just like always, you melted almost instantaneously. 
At the start the kiss was quite tender, communicating a sense of longing and connection that you had only ever felt with him. His thumb traced your jaw while his grip tightened on your thigh in an affectionate little squeeze and you felt as though you could sit here with him forever, craning your neck over the center console of his Jeep just to kiss him beneath the stars, just to breathe him in, to be with him. Leon was your safe place and even the thought of being away from him sent you into withdrawals.
Your shaking hand came up to cradle the back of his neck, fingers curling into his golden hair as you took it upon yourself to deepen the kiss, wanting to get as much of him as you could. You wanted to horde him all to yourself, you wanted to sink into him and have him sink into you, to pause time and keep him there until you were sick of each other, though you knew no length of time together would ever feel like enough. Tongue swiping against his lower lip, you flattened your palm over the crotch of his jeans and massaged gently.
“F-Fuck, baby,” Leon grunted into your mouth, feeling all the blood rush to his cock in response to your touch and your languid kisses. “I’m gonna miss this…”
“Don’t,” You whispered, “I don’t wanna talk about it… Just wanna feel you…”
With a short nod of understanding he reconnected your lips, sliding his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants to dip a finger into your folds, delighted at the realization that you had gone without panties for the evening. He grinned into the kiss and slipped his tongue past you, the pads of his fingers quickly finding your clit with practiced ease.
Your lashes fluttered and your thighs shifted together, a quiet mewl of pleasure tumbling from you as you bucked up into his hand. With each passing second your heart was beating faster and you could feel the wetness collecting beneath his touch.
“Mm, my pretty baby,” He sighed out, the pad of his thumb flicking at your clit while his middle and index fingers petted at your hole. “Put your seat back. Let me taste you.”
There wasn’t a beat of hesitation as you reached down to recline your seat and push it back, and as you did so, Leon was making quick work of climbing over the center console to join you in the passenger seat. He gripped your thighs and pushed your legs up to rest on the dashboard as he yanked your sweatpants down in one swift motion, wasting no time smothering your plush inner thighs with kisses.
His pupils dilated by the scent of your cunt alone, and while he initially planned on taking his time with you, he just couldn’t help himself. Cramped down on the floor of his own passenger seat, Leon’s fingertips printed into your thighs as he dove forward to kiss and lap at your wetness, drinking you up with a deep, wanton need. 
You tensed at the feeling, glittery heat washing over you before you relaxed into his mouth and brought one hand down to tug at his hair, encouraging him further. Your hazy eyes blinked open to look straight up at the sky, the cool night air foreign on your most intimate parts, but not unwelcome. It was quiet out, serene, private, as though you and Leon were the last two people on Earth. A shooting star cast across the sky in a blur, and you quickly realized that your wish was for you and Leon to be the last two people on Earth. Maybe that would be nice. At least your time together wouldn’t be so limited.
Losing Leon felt like losing a limb, even if he was only moving a few hours away to the other side of the mountain. Another shooting star streaked across the night sky, and you barely even noticed you had said something until you already finished speaking, “I wish you could stay… I feel like I can’t breathe without you…”
He hummed into your slick pussy, tongue swirling over your bud before pulling back just far enough to respond, “Not talking about it, baby, remember?”
Your face scrunched up a little bit as you realized your mistake and nodded, returning your focus to the glittering stars above you while your boyfriend sucked and licked at your cunt like he was starving. Soon enough his middle and index fingers were prodding at your hole, tracing the shape of you before sinking deep into your sticky, wet heat, your needy walls sucking him in.
What you didn’t know was that Leon had been focusing so much pleasure on you over the summer because it felt like making up for what he wouldn’t be able to do from thousands of miles away in the fall. You were the only thing he could bring himself to think about since roughly halfway to graduation at the police academy, when he was beginning to pester Raccoon City Police Department with his exemplary test scores and ever-growing resume– by the end of the year you would have both gone so far in separate directions, and long distance wasn’t something you ever excelled at. He knew that the day he left for Raccoon City, he would be effectively nailing the coffin shut.
So he bided his time by fucking you senseless almost daily, eating you out, pinning you down and driving you to tears with your toys, feeling every inch of you beneath his hands just so he wouldn’t forget. Every moan, every mewl, every whimper and sob and plea from you was like music to his ears, like pure heroin directly to the vein. Just like a drug, the better it felt in the moment, the more he knew it would hurt you both later on.
He felt you bucking into his nose and whining quietly, and every twitch of your muscles made his cock throb in his jeans. Leon couldn’t take it anymore, he needed you now.
Pulling back from your core, Leon moved quickly to undo his belt and shove his jeans down his thighs, desperate for some relief from the pressure and intoxicating desire. He was already dribbling precum just from the taste of you, a distinct wet patch growing at the front of his soft blue boxers that soon joined his pants down his legs, and shortly thereafter he was clumsily crawling over you in the passenger seat of his Jeep.
Almost like muscle memory, your arm fell behind you in a blind search for your purse in the back seat. You quickly retrieved it, digging through its contents as Leon’s hands shoved their way up your shirt to paw at your breasts, devouring your throat with kisses, making it a little difficult to maintain your focus. Finally you found what you were looking for, fingers coming into contact with that trusty little box… only to find it empty.
“L-Leon… mm, babe, hey,” You panted in an attempt to gather his attention. He hummed a barely noticeable sound of acknowledgment, but otherwise didn’t budge. You let him continue for a lingering second before breaking the news in a near whisper, “Leon, we’re out of condoms…”
He paused, breaths short and hips rutting into your own with need, his woefully hard cock grinding against your slit. While his body acted on its own in search of any friction he could get, his mind was spinning. He knew you weren’t on birth control and he knew a risk like this could ruin everything you’d both worked so hard for… but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
In fact, it sort of spurred him on.
He buried his face into your neck again and sucked a harsh, dark mark into your skin, a feeling of possessiveness taking root in him. “Then we’re gonna risk it,” He said definitively, his voice low and almost growling in your ear. “Just think about it, sweetheart… Maybe if you let me knock you up, you can forget all about college… I could just whisk you away to the city with me and take care of you for the rest of our lives…”
A rush of heat struck you like a moving car and knocked the air out of your lungs. You knew it would be stupid to throw away your scholarships and every dream you’d had for yourself on a whim, but it was admittedly a nice fantasy at the very least. Arching into the palm of his hand, you relented.
“F-Fuck, fuck… Fuck me, Leon, please, just fuck me…”
And just as you anticipated, he took you up on that. A cool breeze rushed through the open vehicle as he lined himself up at your hole and drove into you, his vision going white for a second just at the intensity of the pleasure he felt, being engulfed by you again. Your body was heaven on Earth to him, you were heaven on Earth to him. 
He sheathed into you down to the hilt with a low groan, one hand clutching your hip and the other tangled in your hair. Leon tugged your head aside by your hair so he could speak directly into your ear, “You’re mine, you hear me? All mine. My girl, my wife, my pretty little baby mama…”
Each declaration was punctuated by a thrust of the hips, his swollen, leaking cock stuffed so deeply inside you that it was almost like you could feel him in your throat. Any and all concerns about your future, individually and as a couple, burned to ash in the far back of your mind as he fucked into with fervor. In this moment, Leon was all that mattered.
You quivered and writhed beneath him, your gummy insides pulsing and clenching around his length, and even with the top off the Jeep, the windows were beginning to accumulate a subtle fog on them. The two of you were hot and slick with sweat, drowning in the heat of each other and the late summer air.
“Leon,” You moaned, nails biting into his shoulders as you clung to him for dear life, for any shred of stability. “Make me yours…”
At this point, you couldn’t even tell if you were serious, and similarly to Leon, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were drunk on him and everything about him, the warmth of his skin, the pheromones that clung to his sweat, the strong grip of his hands and the sound of his breaths and the feeling of him railing into you like you were made for each other. 
“Plannin’ on it, baby,” He said in response, words breathy and a smug grin tugging at his lips. He let go of your hair to plant his hand against the window as he increased his pace, plunging into you with ardor, his balls heavy and aching for release. “Gonna keep you all to myself, give you everything you ever wanted.”
The hand of his that was holding your hip just a moment ago was now wedging itself down between you to rub steady circles into your clit. You jolted at the contact, an incoherent cry tumbling from you, molten heat pooling up in your stomach. His earlier ministrations left both him and you especially sensitive and nearing your climaxes.
He could feel your peak approaching through the way you were convulsing around him, your wet cunt tightening and pulling him deeper with each stroke until he couldn’t even think anymore. Every last one of his senses was clouded– no, drenched with you. His pace stuttered just a little bit as he decided he couldn’t possibly hold back any longer.
With a loud, pleasured groan of your name, Leon stilled inside you as a torrent of cum flooded your waiting womb, warming you from the inside. What finally pushed you over the edge into your own release was Leon’s sly fingers tugging and pinching at your bud with expertise.
“G-God, fuck,” You sobbed, breaking skin as your nails raked down his strong back and gripped him as close to you as you could manage. Tears were pricking at your eyes as you coated his cock with your release, leaving behind a creamy white ring of arousal at the base of his softening sex.
Silence fell over the car as you clung to each other, broken only by your gasping breaths for oxygen. Leon buried his face into your shoulder and kissed the sizable hickie he’d left you earlier, still fresh and stinging.
“Did so good for me,” He huffed into your ear, nibbling at your lobe. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Eventually he pulled out, a sticky mixture of your juices dribbling out of your spent hole and down to the leather seat below you. As Leon climbed less than gracefully out of the passenger seat with his pants around his knees, you were both startled by the unexpected sight of headlights traveling up the very same mountain road that led you here, and the vehicle was pulling into the lookout.
“Shit,” Leon grumbled, rushing to fix his pants and toss you a blanket from the back seat to cover up with, given your sweatpants were lost somewhere on the floor of the car.
The intruding vehicle pulled up right behind Leon’s Jeep, headlights shining into the cabin as a person got out of the driver’s side… with a flashlight. Of course it had to be a cop.
Leon took a deep breath before rolling his window down with a polite smile. “Evening, officer… Nice night, isn’t it?”
1K notes · View notes
sceletaflores · 5 months ago
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"Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."
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pairing: older!patrick zweig x fem!reader
summary: it wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. it was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. and as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.
—or: it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig.
word count: 7.8k (hopefully this is long enough lol)
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex but in a loving way, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), semi-public sex (fucking in a car, you know i had to...), angst, swearing, cigarette smoking as a love language, slight mommy issues lmao, hints of mean!reader cause i still live for that shit, love confessions, rain scene cause i'm corny as hell, porn with SOOOO much plot, no use of y/n.
author's note: this might me the filthiest thing i've ever written lols. i actually DID get a couple asks for some more angsty patrick fics and ofc i love writing angst i'm just a girl i live for that shit. look at me doing what was asked of me and not just whatever i wanted! i'm a giver, what can i say. this fic was revived because of a few anon's who demanded it and i'm so glad they did. you guys got me to give this a second chance and i'm so proud of how it turned out. extra special shout out to @bii-aan-ckaa who fiercely advocated and waited very patiently for this! i'm so obsessed with you and your beautiful kind words. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.
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Fifteen minutes. 
That’s how long you can stomach sitting in the sticky booth of the bar watching Patrick Zweig flirt with a woman you don't recognize across the dimly lit room. Fifteen measly minutes until you were giving your friends some lame excuse of needing fresh air and leaving the table to escape out into the alley.
It’s been a little over twelve years since you’ve seen Patrick. A little over twelve years since you turned your back on him with tears spilling down your cheeks and your favorite racket a mangled, smashed mess gripped tightly in your shaking hand as you walked out of his life forever. 
Or at least what you thought was forever, you guess you were wrong.
To put it lightly, your relationship with Patrick was…complicated. You met him the summer before you started at Stanford. He was tall with green eyes and curly hair and he was kind of an asshole but he made you laugh, so you let him fuck you anyway. At the time, you thought that was it. One really good fuck with a really hot guy you’d never see again.
You thought you were hallucinating when you saw him on the campus courts two months later, when he sauntered up to you with an unmistakable “I know what you look like naked” smirk on his face. He was just as tall and had the same green eyes and the same curly hair and was an even bigger asshole than he was before. You still let him fuck you anyway.
You never thought you’d get sucked into the storm that was whatever the fuck was going on between Art, Patrick and Tashi. Never thought that it would completely ruin your self esteem, your tennis, your everything.
You weren’t particularly close to Art or Tashi in college. Sure, you were all in the same circle. That didn’t make you best friends. Art was nice enough, but he never went out of his way to talk to you. You and Tashi were on the same team but that didn’t mean anything. You respected the hell out of her and her game, and you could tell she felt the same. Even with that respect, there was still a tiny part of you that resented her. 
She was number one, the pride and joy of Stanford, had a constant slew of brands and scouts up to her ears. It seemed like no matter how hard you worked that she would always be number one. It felt like you were always just inches behind her.
Clawing and scratching your way through the ranks since you were twelve to be second best was never the plan. Your mother made sure to remind you of that every chance she got.
Then slowly, she started beating you at more than just tennis. Patrick wanted her, it was more than obvious. At first you didn’t care, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was just a guy you fucked, he could do whatever he wanted. You were friends. There wasn’t a problem.
When you realized you knew more about Patrick than just how he worked dick, then there was a problem. 
At first, all the things you knew about him were boiled down to the vulgar little tidbits you’d notice when he fucked you. You know that he has a birthmark on his lower back. You know when he’d be close because he’d always bite your shoulder before he came. You know his favorite position was really missionary even though he told everyone it was doggy.
Knowing all that was fine.
You also know that he’s allergic to kiwi. You know that he only holds his cigarettes with his thumb and his pointer finger. You’d always know when he was nervous because he’d start tapping his fingers on his thigh. You know that when he’d listen to music he loved, that his right hand would drum along to the beat just a little bit faster than his left would.
You knew all those things because you were falling in love with him, and Patrick Zweig is not someone you fall in love with. Especially not with Tashi Duncan in the picture.
You tried your best to push it down, to pretend you weren’t hurt every time Patrick chose Tashi over you. When he’d miss your games because he was with Tashi, when he’d blow you off to go meet Tashi, when he started to stop returning your calls or replying to your texts. All things you never cared about before started slowly eating at you. You felt awful most days, holed up in your room wallowing in self-pity. Your GPA was steadily dropping as the semester went on. Even your tennis started slipping, and you lost your winning streak to a fucking scrub. When you finally cracked and broke down to your mother over the phone one night she just scoffed.
“Well what did you think would happen when you started to depend on that boy? Dependence is weakness, darling.”
Dependence is weakness. You blocked Patrick’s number that same night.
It all came to a head when he blew up at you after Tashi’s injury. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it. You’d never forget the way it buckled, the way the sharp snap rang through the court, the way she fell to the ground screaming. You’d never seen her cry before. 
Patrick found you later that night, all alone on the practice courts trying to burn the day out of your mind by serving balls till you collapsed. It was the first time he talked to you in weeks. He was pissed. Screaming at you, calling you every nasty thing he could think of, getting up in your face. It was a fucking mess. You both said some things that should have never been said, but it ended when Patrick accused you of somehow being the cause of all of it.
“You hate Tashi, fucking hate her. You wanted something like this to happen. I bet you’re just over the fucking moon that she’s finally out and you can take her place. You can finally be number one seed and you're fucking ecstatic, aren't you? You’re so fucking pathetic, so desperate for validation. Maybe if mommy paid attention to you for once, you wouldn’t be so fucking needy. You're just a sad, delusional fucking runner-up, grasping at whatever shreds of importance you think you still have.”
You stood there, stunned by his outburst, each word hitting you like a physical blow. It was insane, nothing but Patrick blowing things way out of proportion in the midst of his anger.
You wanted to scream, to deny it vehemently, but the hurt and frustration choked off your words. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of anger and heartbreak swirling in you. Vision blurring out everything but Patrick's face twisted up with rage as he glared at you, his words lingering in the air like poison. 
You told him about your mother because you thought you could trust him. You thought he was the only person that really understood you, his dad was a piece of shit too. Him using something so delicate as material to hit you where it hurts was the last straw.
You blew up, all the things you’d been keeping bottled up for months finally boiled over in you swinging your racket down on the green concrete over and over until there was nothing left of it to break. You didn’t even look at Patrick as you walked away. You never saw him again.
You’d love to say it was also the last time you thought about him, but that would be a lie. As much as he hurt you, and as much as you hated him for it, your mind refused to let you forget him.
You still smoke Camel Blues because that was your guys’ brand, even when you should have quit years ago anyway. You still buy the same color lighter, pink. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than an easy choice, that it’s a good color. It’s not at all because you can still hear Patrick’s teasing voice in the back of your head bitching, “I can’t believe you make me use a pink lighter.” when he always forgot his and had to borrow yours. 
It’s not based on a compulsive need to be reminded of him every single time you use it. It’s just convenient, okay.
You know deep down that they were the only remnants of a past that you still couldn’t fully let go of. As much as you tried to bury those memories, they lingered, melded into the corners of your mind like stubborn stains. 
It wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. It was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. Patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. And as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.
Even twelve years later you’re still trying to convince yourself that dependence is weakness, that you were better off without him. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this when the smoke curls from your cigarette and the pink lighter flickers in your hand, you wonder if he ever thinks of you, if he regrets how things ended between the two of you.
Maybe it's not that you can't escape Patrick's grip on you after all these years, it's that you just won't.
You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don't hear the heavy door to the bar swinging open, or the sound of gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps.
“Holy shit,” a deep voice rings out from your right, “someone pinch me.”
Your whole body tenses, your cigarette freezing a few inches away from your lips. Something like fight or flight starts to quietly buzz beneath your skin. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even despite the gruffer, more grown up tone that wasn’t there the last time you heard it.
Your heart’s already kicking into overdrive when you finally start to hesitantly turn your head, time almost slowing down as your eyes sweep over the alley. You kind of don’t want to believe that your luck is this shitty. That maybe it was all in your imagination, that you were thinking about him so much you were starting to hear things that weren’t really there, that he was still back in the bar feeling up that blonde girl. But it can never be that easy, and sure enough, there he is.
Patrick Zweig is standing a few feet away from you with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a wide, achingly familiar grin lighting up his face.
You’re quiet for a few long moments, completely shocked into silence. Your mind races with a million different things you want to say but can’t find the voice to. You should be causing a scene. You should be losing it, screaming, crying, throwing things, slapping him hard across his unfairly handsome face. But you don’t, too surprised to even move. 
Patrick speaks again, taking several steps towards you. “It is really you, right?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an easy, lopsided grin. To anyone else, the laid back, carefree tone he was going for would sound genuine. You can barely pick up on the stunned, almost breathless edge lacing his words, like he also can’t believe you’re standing right in front of him.
He steps into the light shining from a dingy lamp above the door, it basks around him in a yellow orange glow.
Same eyes, same ears, same Patrick.
For years you’ve thought about this exact moment, what you’d say if you ever saw him. You lose all of that practice the closer he gets. He’s less than a foot away from you now, an expectant look on his face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 
You feel like running, like stubbing your cigarette on the pavement and making a break for the door. You already ran from him once, but old habits die hard. 
You don’t run, you refuse to take the easy way out. You’re a grown woman, you’re stronger than you were in college, you’re going to the goddamn Olympics. It’s only Patrick for Christ’s sake.
“What are you doing here?” It sounds harsher than you meant, but that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t deserve kindness from you. 
“Tennis.” Is all he says, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Camel blues. “What are you doing here?” He parrots back, smacking the bottom of the carton, plucking the one that shakes out between his long fingers. “I’d think that Miss. Team USA would be too busy for bar crawls.”
You bristle, eyes narrowing skeptically. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you or not. “It’s not a bar crawl,” you shoot back childishly, feeling defensive under his heavy gaze. “We’re celebrating.”
Patrick just nods, letting out a small hum in lieu of replying. He's close enough now that you can see gray strands streaked through his hair. He looks older, a few barely there wrinkles creasing his skin as he pops his cigarette between his lips. “Got a light?” he asks around the filter, holding his hand out expectantly before you even answer.
It’s still just as annoying. You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically as you fish your lighter out of your skirts pocket. You place it in the open palm of his hand, ignoring the fireworks that go off at the base of your spine when his fingers catch on your wrist as you pull away.
He mumbles out a half-assed thanks, cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. If he notices the color, he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong that he doesn’t tease you about it, staying silent as he tosses it back to you when his cigarette finally lights. You ignore the hurt blooming in your chest as you pocket it.
Patrick takes a deep inhale, the tip of his cigarette burns bright red. The way his lips wrap around the filter has heat spreading through you. “Shocked you’re still smoking,” he waves his free hand at you vaguely, smoke flowing from his lips as he speaks. “It’s not super admirable.”
You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s really how you want to start this?
“Start what?” he asks coyly, leaning his shoulder too close to you against the brick. He’s playing dumb, the smirk on his face gives him away. 
You say nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. He has a beard now, sort of patchy and fairly new looking. You wrinkle your nose up at it. 
It doesn’t surprise you that he’s acting like this. All calm and collected like he’s catching up with an old friend, like he didn’t say all those horrible things to you. As if every single word he said that night isn’t still engraved in your mind and carried with you through your whole career. 
Patrick’s quiet for a bit, taking another slow drag. “Have you seen either of them?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s treading the water of your boundaries by bringing this up. “Or am I your first?” He lets the innuendo hang in the air, trying to joke his way through something neither of you really want to talk about.
You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the part of the street you can see through the alleys opening.
You don’t need to ask who “them” is.
You just shake your head no, not wanting to have to say anything out loud and make this into a whole thing. The smoke from your cigarette swirls through your lungs, warm and familiar. 
You’ve seen them both at multiple tennis events. Things like matches, and galas, and charity auctions. Hell, they watched from the stands when you won Wimbledon for the first time. You just make sure and avoid them like the plague, always running the other direction the second you see a short bob and cropped blonde hair.
You’ve been in the same room with them countless times over the years but you might as well have been in separate worlds. The only “contact” you’ve had with them since you all graduated was weirdly ominous.
Art followed you on Instagram after you got your third career slam, but he doesn’t like any of your posts. You’re one of the mere twenty accounts in his following. You never followed him back. 
Then, when your career first started taking off, the press somehow learned about your past with Tashi. They started using it to their advantage when picking headlines for any pieces written about you. “The only woman in the world to beat Tashi Duncan!” It pissed you off to no end. It was stupid, a way to get clicks on their sad little gossip sites. And it wasn’t even fucking true.
They finally stopped when you threatened to sue their asses. Apparently, Tashi noticed.
She sent you flowers. You threw them out.
Patrick nods back, taking his own slow drag. The sound of traffic hums in the background, the music from the bar bleeding through the wall mutely. 
“Congrats on that,” he says casually, looking you up and down slowly. You fight not to squirm under his gaze. “On making the team. That’s some serious shit. I always knew it’d be you, out of all of us.”
It’s a blatant lie. You were always four out of four in college, the one person in the group with the least potential for stardom. If it wasn’t for Tashi’s injury, she’d definitely be in your place — on top of the world.
He’s trying to pacify you, to butter you up. All it does is grate on your nerves and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 
“Did you just come out here to interrogate me? To mess with me?” you ask sharply, frustration starting to get the better of you. “Do you want a fucking autograph or something?”
Patrick laughs, throwing his head back. “Nope, I wanted to catch up. It's been a while.” he shrugs, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I just know how much you like talking about yourself, that’s all.”
You pause, picking up on the clear implication of his words. “Excuse me?” you question, turning towards him.
“Just saying,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “When we were younger everyone always thought I was this arrogant, cocky, self obsessed prick…” he trails off, an infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. It does nothing to soothe you, only adding fuel to the fire of your anger. “And they were all right, I was. But, that’s also exactly what you are right now.” he finishes, tapping the ash off his cigarette.
You feel it, all the emotions swirling inside you of at seeing Patrick again threatening to burst. Anger and misery waging a war in your stomach. The wind is starting to pick up around you, making goosebumps break out over your skin. The fabric of your skirt swishes around your thighs. You feel clammy, but it has nothing to do with the temperature drop. 
“Was?” you ask, condescending and mean, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. “You really don’t think you’re still all of those things?”
Patrick chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it. “I’ve changed, Patrick.” you say sternly, brows furrowing in displeasure. Your tone is hard, frustration seeping into your words. Considering the last time the two of you spoke, this was almost going well. It’s just like Patrick to ruin something before he needs to.
You know distantly that you could deescalate the situation, but maybe you’re more alike than you thought. Maybe you’re just too greedy to keep the peace. “So fucking sorry that I’m not the same person I was in college, but I actually chose to grow up.”
Patrick snorts, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, clearly.” he mutters under his breath, it’s condescending and sarcastic. It pisses you off.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask sharply, cigarette now forgotten and steadily burning away at your side. 
Patrick shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You’re still so lost. I sure as shit don’t have a red, white, and blue track suit hanging in my closet, but at least I know who I am.” He doesn't sound angry, only sure of himself, like he may have been thinking about this for a while. His face is passive, body relaxed as he leans against the hard brick.
Your jaw clenches, anger running hot through your veins. He doesn’t know anything about you, hasn’t for over ten years. He doesn’t have the right to try and talk down to you, not after all the hard work you put in to get to where you are.
“My wrist alone is worth ten million. What are you worth now, Patrick?” You’ll be embarrassed about bringing up status later, you always try to stay as humble as possible, but you’re too mad to care. You just need to hurt him, to hurt him like he hurt you. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that Patrick’s parents cut him off a while ago, that he’s been slumming it ever since. “I know exactly who I am, I’m a fucking Olympian.”
The venom in your tone is sharp, each word from your lips like a knife stabbing through the tense air trying to draw blood. “You’re a fucking nobody, Patrick. You’re irrelevant. Washed up. Buried. Forgotten.” You pause when your voice starts to shake, taking a deep inhale of smoke to try and calm yourself. Your hand is shaking too, ash falls from the burnt out tip down to the gravel. Patrick just watches you, his expression doesn’t change. Smoke billows from between your lips, blowing away with the wind. “We’re not on the same level, not anymore.” 
Patrick’s unfazed, staring back at you with his cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes it between his fingers, letting his arm drop to hang at his side. “I’ve been thinking about you.” he says casually, head lolling to the side lazily. He looks at you through his lashes, eyes sweeping over your face slowly. “I was just thinking about you, and now you’re here. Right fucking in front of me.” he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You look…” he trails off, green eyes taking in every inch of you. “You look amazing.”
Your pulse flutters wildly, you feel so light headed, like you could pass out any second. “I’ve missed you, missed you everyday since that night.” His expression is that same half cocked grin from before, all smooth bravado and easy smiles as if he’s not staring at you like you’re the very blood coursing through his veins. All the air drains from your lungs, mind racing what feels like a thousand miles per second. 
He sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He can’t possibly mean it.
A loud chant ringing through your skull is the only coherent thing screaming through all the mess. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking fall for it–
“Well I don’t miss you.” A lie. “You were nothing to me, Patrick.” Another lie. “You were just easy dick.” Your stomach twists painfully, like your body is physically trying to stop you from lying to yourself any further.
His face stays neutral, it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Patrick had a terrible poker face in college, you could read him like a book with a single glance. It was one of your favorite things about him, how expressive his face always was.
Now he’s just staring down the bridge of his nose at you passively, the picture of indifference. It’s another reminder of how long it’s been, that he’s lived a whole life without you in all that time. He takes a long drag off his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.
His lips are slick and pink, just how you remember them. The beard isn’t so bad, it makes him look more rugged, more like a man. It’s the most drastic change in his appearance, far different from the smooth skinned pretty boy he was before.
He exhales, a long stream of smoke blowing past your ear. “What are you still doing here then?” he muses with a small shrug. He leans in even closer, slowly, like you were a cornered animal he didn’t want to spook. You can smell him, something woodsy with a hint of musk. You can see the clusters of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, almost completely faded. “If I’m nothing,” he clarifies, simple, easy. “Why are you here?”
It’s a loaded question, one he obviously knows the answer to. It’s a dick move, forcing you to confront what you’re really feeling. Your eyes start to sting, complicated emotions welling up in your throat. “Fuck you Patrick.” you whisper weakly, all the bite in your tone getting lost in your dejection. Your lip wobbles warningly, you try your best to stifle it. You refuse to cry in front of him.
Patrick’s face does something funny, turning his eyes to the sidewalk. “I need someone like that again. Someone that isn’t afraid to fucking check me, that wants me to do better and not because they just see a check or a legacy or whatever the fuck else my parents expected from me. Someone that wants me to do better because they actually believe in me.”
The honesty in his voice takes you by surprise. He gets more worked up the longer he talks, chest rising and falling a lot faster than before. Rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.  “I fucked up that night, I know. Now my life’s a fucking mess, and I need someone to help make it make sense again.“ 
You scoff thickly, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight back tears. “And I’m that person?” you ask skeptically, brow raised in question.
“You always were,” he replies easily, his face forming into a sad smile. He almost sounds like his old self. Your brain flashes the image of Patrick leaning outside the door of your science lecture, waiting to walk you back to your dorm. He’s smiling wide enough to show teeth, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes, just like he is right now.
Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy that broke your heart on a tennis court twelve years ago. 
He was the boy that held your hair back when you threw up after drinking too much at a frat party and still stayed the night even though you didn’t hook up, his chest pressed against your back like a security blanket the whole night. He was the boy that let you make friendship bracelets on the handle of his favorite racket, and secretly kept the one you made for him braided around the neck for weeks until you finally noticed the fraying blue strings still in place when he forgot his tennis bag at your dorm room one night.
Suddenly he wasn’t anything but the boy you fell in love with when you were eighteen years old.
You swallow hard, heart pounding against your ribcage. Your cigarette falls from the slack grip of your fingers, plummeting to your feet where it burns out on the pavement. 
It’s like you lose control of yourself, like all your morals get shot out of a cannon into the sun. You’re lunging forward before you know what you’re doing, fisting the fabric of Patrick’s shirt and pulling him down to meet you halfway. Your first kiss with Patrick in twelve years.
It’s a mess of teeth clashing together roughly, with way too much tongue and spit to be classified as romantic. It’s desperate. It’s angry. It’s fucking filthy and it’s exactly what you need.
Your tongue forces its way between Patrick’s lips when he gasps in shock, mapping out the familiar territory of his mouth like muscle memory. His big hands fly up to hold onto your hips as he eagerly returns your kiss, pressing you up against the brick and sucking your tongue lewdly. He tastes like smoke and bottom shelf whiskey. You moan into his mouth, wetness starting to seep through the thin material of your panties.
You stay like that for a while, just kissing until Patrick slides the hard line of his cock against your hip strategically. You moan at the size of it pressing onto you through his jeans, breaking the kiss to inhale a couple lungfuls of air. “You’re not fucking me in an alley.” You say bluntly as he trails wet kisses down the side of your throat.
He laughs, nipping at your collarbone teasingly. “My car’s a block away,” he offers between kisses.
You think about it for a second. Deciding on whether or not you’re going to let Patrick fuck you in the backseat of his car like you’re two horny teenagers and not full grown adults.
“Lead the way.” Is all you say, finally letting yourself smile when Patrick starts to drag you away from the bar. 
You shoot your friends a quick text letting them know you decided to head home early, already in the uber you ordered when you’re actually letting Patrick drag you across a blessedly empty parking lot to an old SUV parked in the middle. A completely one-eighty from the Porsche he used to drive.
He takes a second to press you against the door, capturing your lips with his again. It’s a slower kiss, sweeter than the one you shared outside the bar. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He fumbles blindly for the car door with his other hand, pulling it open and pushing you into the back. He follows closely, climbing in and shutting the door behind him.
Patrick’s back on you in less than a second, yanking at the buttons of your shirt impatiently, fingers too big to work them through the holes as fast as he wants to. He lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing both sides and pulling hard. The buttons all go flying in different directions, landing in different spots around you.
“That was three hundred dollars,” you mumble against his lips, not wanting to stop kissing him for even a second. He looms over you, broad and all encompassing. He sits up to yank his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside and popping open the button of his jeans.
“You can buy another one,” he says simply, shucking his jeans and boxers off all in one go. His dick is long and lovely, tip red and drooling pre-cum that drips all the way down to his balls. Your mouth waters, desperate to taste it, to feel the weight of it on your tongue and down your throat. You push it to the back of your mind. There’s no time for that, both of you too keyed up to do anything other than fuck.
Patrick leans down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. He turns his attention to your pulling skirt down, panties going with it and getting tossed onto the floorboard carelessly. His eyes zero in on your bare pussy, wet and on display. The cool air shocks your system, making you want to press your thighs together but Patrick’s hands keep you spread open.
“Fuck,” he whispers quietly, moving to roll the knuckle of his right index finger over your slick entrance, just barely rocking it into you. You gasp, your whole body trembling with need. “Just like I remember.” He mutters to himself, pushing in the smallest bit deeper. 
Your leg kicks out, patience starting to wear thin. “C’mon, Pat.” you mewl sweetly, bucking your hips up in a clear invitation. “Fuck me.”
Patrick shifts up onto his knees, silently shuffling closer to your spread thighs. His cock juts out from his body, so thick and heavy that it doesn’t point straight up, instead hangs angry and red between his legs. His big hands slide halfway up your thighs, you shiver at the way they skirt across your skin lightly. He presses you backwards by them, leaning over you with your legs slung across his shoulders.
His cock drags across your inner thigh, trailing a sloppy line of pre-come as it does. You nearly wail, wrapping your arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders as you beg for him to give you what you want.
“God Patrick! Put it in. Please, put it in. Let me have it, please, fuck–,” you beg frantically, arms tightening around his shoulders like you’re trying to drag him impossibly closer to you. He goes willingly, burying his nose in the soft skin of your neck. He presses a small kiss directly over your pulse.
“I’m gonna give you this cock, baby.” he whispers lowly, hot lips brushing against your skin with every word. He slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, stopping to rub it over your swollen clit a few times. “Gonna get all up inside you and fuck you exactly how you like.” He slides the length down, letting his tip catch on your empty, clenching hole.
You’re so damn worked up, writhing and pushing back and begging Patrick to just fuck you already, that you can’t take anymore teasing. Your hole contracts around the tip of his dick like it’s trying to suck him in. He sinks in deeper, slowly feeding every thick inch into your aching cunt.
“God,” Your name falls from his lips in a shuddery breath that fans over your fluttering pulse. “You still smell the same.” It’s the same stunned, breathless tone from when he first saw you. He presses his face cheek to cheek with yours, the rough texture of his beard scraping against your skin. 
Patrick moves his hips against you slowly, deep strokes that drag every thick inch of him against the walls of your cunt. The tip of his cock stabbing that sweet spot inside you that makes stars glow bright on the ceiling of his car each time you blink. The angle has his balls pressing against your cunt as he fucks into you, the excessive pre-come leaking from his tip mixing with the sticky wetness of your juices leaves an obscene ring of creamy white around the spread hole of your cunt. It sticks wetly to the base of Patrick’s cock with each thrust, shining back at you on his skin when he pulls out.
The slow thrusts feel amazing, but you know it’s not enough. You need him to pound into you, to bully his big cock into your cunt like he’s getting back at you for shutting him out. You need him to fuck you. 
“Harder, Pat…” you whine breathlessly, clawing desperately at the polyester seats.
He groans loudly, hips immediately speeding up, getting rougher, meaner. He leans up to get more power behind his thrusts, breaking your tight hold on his shoulders. “This is where you belong,” he grits out, sweat dripping from his forehead to fall onto your heaving chest. The sharp smack smack smack of his hips bruising your ass gets louder, the lewd noise filling the car. “Where you should have been this whole fucking time, spread open on my cock.”
The only thing you can even get out anymore are pleading whines and loud moans of Patrick’s name as he pounds into you like he’s trying to kill you. The harsh snap of his hips inching you further up the backseat until your head’s knocking against the doors handle on each mean thrust. Your feet bounce by his ears, body almost completely folded in half so all you can do is lie there and take it.
The car rocks steadily, anyone who spares a glance at the SUV will know what’s going on inside. 
Patrick sneaks a hand between your legs, fingers sliding over your swollen clit. You scream, throwing your head back in pleasure as the calloused tips over his fingers work you over. “Fuck yeah,” Patrick mutters, turning his head to lick and bite at your ankle. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much, missed this pussy.” His voice is pinched, hips fucking into you impossible faster.
The wet squelching noise of your cunt is filthy, splattering against Patrick’s heavy balls with each thrust. “I know she missed me too, didn’t she baby?” he taunts, eyes wild and blown out. “Taking my cock so well, squeezing me so fucking good.”
“Close,” you gasp out. Patrick pitches forward, licking into your parted lips as he rubs tight circles over your clit faster. He kisses you sloppily, smearing spit all over your lips and chin. His sweat drips onto your face and mixes with your own, it should be gross, but it makes you even wetter. The primal part of your brain overjoyed to be claimed by him. He lifts his fingers up the tiniest bit, smacking them over your clit with the smallest amount of force.
Your orgasm hits you suddenly, back arching off the seat wildly as you gush around his cock. You claw at his back desperately, nails raking down his skin hard enough to leave angry red welts in their wake.
“Shit– that’s good, milk it out of me baby, work for this fucking load.” he groans, hips not slowing down as he chases his own release. His breath puffs over your skin, the rhythm of his hips starting to falter the closer he gets. You whine, trying your best focus on clenching your cunt over his cock in your fucked out state. “That’s it, baby– God – you’re gonna make me come, squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move…” he growls, teeth sinking into your neck hard.
You hiss sharply, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure starts to become too much. He licks over the bite mark, like he’s apologizing. “Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up so good, fuck–”
His rambling dissolves into a loud groan, hips giving one last thrust as he buries himself as deep in your cunt as he can. You feel rope after rope of warm come flood your insides, painting your walls with it. It feels like hours, him unloading into you with cut off moans and grunts. 
You're still desperately trying to catch your breath when he finally starts to pull out of you as gently as he can. The red tip of his cock popping free lets the river of his come leak out from your abused hole, spilling out of you to drip onto the car’s seat.
Patrick curses at the sight, scooping the white, creamy mess onto his fingers so he can fuck it back into you. You hiss at the over stimulation, thighs squeezing together around his hand. Your chest is still heaving, breathing erratic as you slowly come down from your orgasm. Patrick tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling warmly as he takes you into his arms and shifts around until he’s sitting up against the door with you curled into his chest.
The windows are steamy, melting all the streetlights outside into a swamp of warm colors on the glass. They shine through the car like sunlight piercing through a stained glass window. You feel light and hazy, like you’re in a dream. Patrick’s body grounds you, firm and familiar against your back. It’s quiet for a long time, only the sound of soft breathing fills the car. You're scratching your nails through the hair on Patrick’s chest when he finally breaks the silence.
“There’s…” he says into your hair, trailing off near the end. He’s idly tracing shapes on your lower back. A circle, a square, a circle, a diamond, a square, a heart. “There’s this challenger in New Rochelle in a couple weeks, I’m entering it. You should come.” 
Your heart drops, the delicate cloud encompassing you and Patrick forcefully ripped away in less than a second. You’ve already heard of this challenger, seen all the publicity it’s been getting since Art’s name came up in the conversation surrounding it. The ‘Phil’s Tire Town Challenger’ is all anyone can talk about. 
If Art’s there, she will be too. Sitting in the stands in a classy Ralph Lauren two piece, watching her husband and Patrick on the court, looming over the two of them for the first time in years. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing her. You can’t stomach the thought of Patrick seeing her, terrified that the second she spares him a glance you’ll be right back where you were in college, an afterthought left in the dust for something better.
Your stomach lurches violently, you feel nauseous. The heat of Patrick’s backseat becomes almost unbearable, making it harder to breathe. You rip yourself away from him, tearing through the backseat to find your clothes. 
Patrick startles, sitting up with a concerned look on his face. “Jesus, what's wrong?” You can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over your back, not sure if he should touch. “What did I do?”
You don’t say anything, you can’t. Your throat feels tight, chest constricted and heavy as you try to take in lungfuls of air. You tug on your skirt and panties haphazardly, grabbing the first shirt you find strewn across the car's floor and yanking it on. You know it’s not yours but you don’t care, too busy trying to shove your shoes back onto your feet and push open the door all at once.
Patrick questions you the entire time, voice confused and insistent as you tumble out into the parking lot. The cool air feels like a life jacket, the smell of rain fills your nose as you try to steady your erratic breathing. You’re still trying to tug your right shoe on as you start to speed walk away from his car.
You can hear the sound of feet slapping behind you on the pavement as you walk. A strong hand wraps around your bicep, whipping you around. Patrick only has his pants on, shirtless and barefoot in his haste to catch up with you.
“What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes searching your face closely. It makes tears burn hot at your waterline, blurring your vision and falling to trickle down your cheeks when you try to blink them away.
“This was a mistake, Patrick.” your voice is thick with emotion, you try to wrench your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, not squeezing tight enough to hurt but to try and keep you in place. You need to leave, to get as far away from Patrick as you can before you’re in too deep. “Please, let go.” Your voice is small, shaky and weak and so unlike you. The panic from the car is still wrapped around you, growing tighter every second you spend with him.
Patrick shakes his head wildly, raindrops slowly start to fall onto his bare shoulders. “No, fuck no! We can talk about this. We just need to talk–”
“Patrick stop!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, loud and desperate as you double your efforts to free your arm. “Please just let me go!”
You don’t know if it’s the way you said it or the look on your face, maybe it’s a bit of both, but something makes Patrick let you go. Dropping your arm from his grip and letting his own hang limply at his side.
Rain starts to come down all around you, large drops hitting your skin and soaking the cotton of your shirt. You let yourself meet his eyes, they're sad in a way you’ve never seen before. The green turned dull and lifeless. It looks wrong on him.
When you can’t stand the hurt look on his face any longer, you leave. Walking away deeper into the rain, small puddles splashing up around your shoes with every step. You hope Patrick doesn’t follow you, that he lets you go. You’re doing him a favor by making the choice for him, it’s easier this way.
“You know, I think I really loved you.” He calls from behind you as the rain really starts to pick up. His voice almost gets swallowed by the thunder, you wish it would have. 
Against your better judgment, you look back. Patrick hasn't moved, still standing in the middle of the parking lot. The rain is making his hair stick to his forehead, starting to seep into the denim of his jeans to darken the gray. 
“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice tiny and pathetic. Patrick probably couldn’t even hear you over the wind whipping through the air. He stares back at you, there's too much distance for you to see the look on his face. You turn on your heels and keep walking.
It’s nostalgia in its sickest form, the dark familiarity of the situation washing over you with the rain as you walk away from Patrick again. Ignoring every call of your name and desperate pleas for you to come back is new, you can’t tell if it hurts more or less than the silence of last time.
You wrap your arms around yourself, tears mixing with the trails of rain running down your cheeks. It’ll make it easier to convince yourself later on that you weren’t really crying, that it was just the rain. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and this will all be behind you. Patrick will be fine, he doesn’t really love you. In a few weeks he’ll go to the challenger and forget all about you. 
You hear your mothers voice ring out in the back of your head as you walk.
"It's for the best, my love. Dependence is weakness."
You hope to God that she's right.
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strongheartneteyam · 1 year ago
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[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to cinetrix ]
Champagne Problems.
Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader
CW: angsty, reader feeling her heart hurt, adeline being funny and shipping reader and neteyam, symptoms of PTSD (like a nightmare), sexual tension, confessions of love, angry neteyam, confused neteyam, yearning, crying, fluff, sexual content, neteyam loving reader's breasts, neteyam using his fangs on reader's body, p in v, territorial neteyam, needy and clingy neteyam, slight breeding kink, creampie
I almost cried writing this chapter and istg my pussy clenched hard while I was writing the smut part so… have a good read, I guess lol ps: I know I said I was gonna have a break from uploading my long fics (and I am!) but there was an itch in my hand to finish this story and I gave in and scratched it lol I kinda knew I eventually would. But I'm only gonna update the other fics next year. This one was an exception bc there was only one chapter left (this one lol)
Not proofread. I woke up in the middle of the night to write this, it's already morning outside and I'm sleepy and sick :(
Part 7: All I want is you
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𓇼
It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you
You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town
And I just wanted you to know that this is me trying
this is me trying (Taylor Swift)
𓇼
In the morning, you woke up and realized you were no longer sitting on the floor, resting your back against the wall of Kiri's marui, but rather laying in your mat. You had a sharp headache but you didn't really know why. Maybe lack of enough sleep, maybe tension… Your eyes searched around for Neteyam but he was no longer there. You knew instantly that Neteyam had been the one to carry you to your mat. He was the only one awake other than you when you two were talking while it was eclipse and you knew it wasn't his nature to leave a girl sleeping while sitting down on the floor in a weird position and go home. No, he was too much of a gentleman for that.
The realization that you were about to go back to the lab in a few days and leave Neteyam behind again hit you like a train. The thought of being without him and having no guarantee that he wasn't gonna find a mate while you were gone and when you'd come back and see him again, he'd be happy with a beautiful na'vi girl by his side - perhaps even carrying his baby in her womb - broke you in a billion little pieces.
Your heart started to beat fast in your chest, like it was gonna escape from inside your body and come out through your throat. But there was also a big lump in your throat. Anxiety stinged your whole body like sharp, thin needles. 
You didn't want to lose Neteyam. Just imagining having to stare at a wall in your room at night, to see his sweet face in the crushing darkness and feel the tears rolling down your face, reminding you that you would never be able to hold him again, to feel his huge but gentle hands on your skin, to smell his comforting scent… and worse: to know he would be in some other girl's arms every night, letting her kiss him, having… God, having sex with her…
No. You couldn't let him go. It would rip your heart apart.
And if Neteyam didn't go for Munì like you thought he did, that meant that he didn't stop loving you… right? That's what you were desperately hoping for. You were almost sure you had seen him get slightly happy when you acted like an idiot and let him see how jealous you were of Munì last night. Maybe that meant he still felt something for you.
If you were right about Neteyam's feelings, you didn't quite know why he loved the mess of a girl that you were but… somehow he did, and he was sad because of you, because you refused to be his mate when that's all you truly wanted, in the first place. You had let fear hold you back once again. But not this time. You had to be brave. You had to at least try.
Putting the sheet that was once over you to the side, you uncovered your body and, in a rapid motion, you got up from your mat and got to your feet, feeling the slight coldness on the floor of the marui. Your feet walked slowly but surely among your two best human friends, trying hard not to step on or kick one of the girls as they were sleeping right next to your mat. 
You got startled by Adeline's voice echoing in the morning air as she whispered energetically to you.
"(y/n), where are you going?" Her voice was hoarse and slightly funny, because of slumber.
"I thought you were sleeping!" You whispered back as you looked at her sleepy and moody face while she laid down in her mat
"I was but I felt the need to pee and woke up. Answer my question, please!" She demanded
Your heart started beating fast and you spoke "I'm gonna try and make things right with Neteyam."
"Thank God." She dramatically grunted "I knew you liked him all along, I just wouldn't try and force you to mate with the guy, of course. But damn, I've known you since we were kids and I know when you're in love. I wanted to slap you when I saw you looking gloomy and I would ask you what was wrong and you would say that it was nothing but I just knew you were missing him and regretting refusing to be his mate. And Neteyam brought you back to your mat in his freaking arms! You can't let the guy go, you idiot! He loves you! Can't you see it? You both love each other! What was stopping you before from saying “Hey, I know I'm a bit crazy but I wanna be your mate!”?” She sighed, like she was tired of that whole situation
“How do you know Neteyam carried me back to my mat?” Surprise was all over your face
“I woke up at eclipse with your chatter, mamas.” She said nonchalantly 
“Oh…” You awkwardly spoke “So, you heard everything?” You cringed
“I heard a lot of it. Enough to know Neteyam is worth it. Now do what you gotta do. I gotta go relieve myself.” She demanded like a mother would
Your laughter echoed around. Adeline didn't realize how funny she was. You loved her. So, so much. That bitch was everything to you.
In only seconds you found yourself rushing out of the marui's door and your feet walking quickly through the warm Metkayina sand.
After a good while looking around and only seeing turquoise skinned tall Metkayina people, you finally found Neteyam. The sight of his broad, striped back did things to you. It made you remember how insanely good it felt when he was inside of you that rainy night on his hammock.
"Neteyam!" You yelled, sounding way more desperate than you had wanted to, and Neteyam rapidly turned around looked at you, his face covered with surprise
"I'm sorry! I do wanna be with you!" You spoke, breath a bit labored as you felt nervous and insecure about his reaction. The next thing you saw, you were breaking down in tears. 
"Why did you refuse me, then?" Neteyam asked,  slightly angry and utterly confused 
He did not understand why you had put you both through all that pain if you did love him too.
"I guess I was just afraid of finally having something beautiful in my life again, to feel safe again and then lose it. I couldn't bear to lose you. The truth is, I've had a crush on you since we first met too and I think I started to have deeper feelings for you at the party. Maybe we fell for each other at the same time" you chuckled wearily between tears, thinking that if it truly happened, it was beautiful and seemed like something out of a romantic movie
“Were you afraid that I was gonna leave you?” Neteyam asked, furrowing his hairless eyebrows 
“Yes…” You shamefully confirmed.
It seemed like you only ever thought the worst of Neteyam, even though he was known to be a good man and only proved you again and again how much he cared about you.
"Why would I ever leave you if I love you? It's as simple as that, tawtute." Neteyam stated
An amazed smile was born amidst your tears and your heart sped up as your brain processed those words.
"Are you saying you… love me?" It still seemed too good to be true.
"I'm saying I love you more than you will ever know, syulang." Neteyam walked closer to you and tried to touch your hand
You backed away slightly and he felt frustrated. Even as you declared your love for him you were still so guarded. Neteyam let out an impatient breath out of his feline nostrils.
“Tawtute, please, be my mate.” He asked you once again, his heart open to you once again.
“But what about tsaheylu? You can’t make it with me! What if you one day realize you regret missing out on this experience? It’s such an important thing to your people…” You let out a choked sob as you pronounced those words that felt like a stab in the heart
“Not again with the excuses…” Neteyam thought
“Listen” Neteyam asked for your attention “I do not care if you don’t have tendrils and we can’t make tsaheylu. What’s even the point of tsaheylu if I can’t make it with the girl I love? Tsaheylu is about sharing your affection, your devotion, your need with your mate and I don’t need or want anyone else but you, tawtute.”
You kept sobbing and just couldn't seem to stop.
Neteyam grabbed you and held you inside his strong, long arms, one of his hands on the back of your head, pressing it against his body and the other on your shoulder. His warm embrace felt reassuring.
"It's okay, oeyä tawtute. You are safe with me."
After a while holding you like that, he gently pushed you away from him and held your chin up so you could look at his face.
"I won't ever leave you. I promise you, with the Great Mother as my witness, I will never ever let you go. I'm yours forever. I have been yours for so long…" He gave you a calm smile and wiped your tears away
Your gleaming eyes gazed up at his face. He was so beautiful, his dark blue stripes forming intricate pattern on his forehead, a pattern unique to his body. His bioluminescent freckles adorned his big face and shone slightly even in the light of day. You were so damn lucky to have such a beautiful man be so deeply in love with you.
“So, what's it gonna be?” Neteyam's big thumb caressed your reddened face as his lips were curled in a gentle smile, showing no teeth “Can I finally get an “yes” from your beautiful lips?”
You chuckled and smiled big.
“Yes.” Neteyam's heart swelled with affection and relief “Yes, I'm gonna be your mate, Neteyam.”
“Nga yawne lu oer, oeyä tawtute.” (I love you, my human) Neteyam grabbed your face that was tiny inside his two big hands and kissed you eagerly, his lips pressing against yours like he had been needing that for so long.
Neteyam had been dreaming awake every night about how it would feel if he ever got to kiss your small mouth again. His tongue touched the slit of your mouth, deliciously warm and wet and you parted your lips so he could explore the insides of your mouth. Neteyam's large tongue licked your tongue and you moaned in delight at the sensation. You had missed his kisses so damn much… Neteyam tasted your mouth like you were the sweetest berry juice in the whole Universe.
“I missed your lips and your tongue, syulang. I was craving you.”  Neteyam said and softly placed a last peck in your lips 
“I missed you too. A lot.” You smiled at him, still tasting him on your tongue "I love you too." Neteyam smiled at you when hearing those words he was dying to hear for so long.
“Come, have lunch with me, oeyä hì'i muntxate.” (my small mate)
You agreed and Neteyam took your hand inside his much bigger one, taking you to the place where the na'vi were handling food to each other.
Many curious blue eyes looked at the both of you as Neteyam possessively held you by your waist and talked to you gently.
“I'm gonna get some fish and herbs for us, okay?” He smiled happily at you, like he either didn't notice or didn't care about how all the Metkayina at that part of the reef seemed to be watching yours and Neteyam's every move.
Quickly he grabbed the fish and took you to some rocks away from everyone else, what made you let out a relieved silent breath.
You two ate your fish, that had been prepared on a bonfire - it tasted delicious, by the way. Slightly spicy but also with fresh notes of something that reminded you of peppermint. Alien food was better than you had ever anticipated while you prepared on Earth to travel to Pandora.
"By the way, I'm sorry about your arm. I bet it hurt a lot…" You brought it up, after swallowing a mouthful of fish
"Not that much. I'm strong." He played around but Neteyam truly wanted you to see him as a strong na'vi male. He knew it was boyish but he did it anyway.
He won a quick joyful chuckle from you.
"I was gonna tell you that yesterday but I guess I got too nervous and then too emotional and I ended up forgetting to. I'm sorry, I think I tend to seem self-centered sometimes…" You spoke
"Don't worry about it. You do seem aloof and a little self-centered" You scoffed in a joking manner at his bluntness but you actually said “Ouch!” on the inside.
Damn, Neteyam truly knew how to humble someone...
“But I know that's not who you really are. People just have to take enough time to get to know you and they'll see what I see." 
"And what do you see?" Your eyes shone with wonder and your voice was playful 
"I see a smart, strong, sensitive and amazingly beautiful girl."
Your cheeks turned red. You weren't expecting so much praise.
“Ok, stop… I'm not all that.” You awkwardly stated, avoiding his gaze
“Of course you are. I don't know why you can't see it, tawtute.”
Maybe because you hadn't heard that a lot throughout your life…
To be fair, you had been called beautiful and smart many times but not the other two. Kate and Adeline would tell you that you were strong when you needed to hear it but you always wondered if they perhaps just said that because they were your closest, best friends and they only wanted to make you feel better.
𓇼
After lunch, Neteyam sneaked out with you and took you to a private place on the beach where his hammock was hanging, somewhere more secluded, where the both of you could be alone. You knew just what he wanted and you could not lie and say that you were not craving the exact same thing.
Neteyam took you in his arms, winning a squeaky laugh from you as he lift you off your feet. 
Neteyam sat you on his big hammock, your legs hanging in the air and not touching the clear sand. He knelt in front of you and before you knew it, he was kissing you. Neteyam eagerly took your lower lip between his soft, full lips, suckling on it ever so slightly and then pressing his mouth against yours. Neteyam's huge blue hands cupped both your breasts over your white cropped top and you whimpered in pleasure.
"Oeyä tawtute…" he cried out "Let me see these titties" his mouth hanged slightly open with anticipation and desire
Once you let him take your bra off, Neteyam groaned in an animalistic, primal way.
"These perfect soft titties are mine now, oeyä muntxate. Only mine."
"Yours, Neteyam." You breathed, so taken by him and the moment. Your panties were slick with your juices, so much he turned you on.
Neteyam laid you down gently but eagerly on his hammock. He wasted no time and quickly brought his lips to your breasts. He had been dreaming of that ever since the first time he saw your breasts jiggle under your shirt when you were walking fast, troubled with your scientist work. Your boobs were just so different from the na'vi females ones and it made Neteyam daydream about how it would feel to have your small buds inside his mouth.
Neteyam sucked on your nipples like he was hungry and desperate to taste your skin. He licked your sensitive buds swiftly, leaving them hard and wet with his saliva. All you could do was look down at his mesmerizing blue face, staring at his bioluminescent little freckles and moan loud. You started to worry if people could hear but you decided it was not important if they did or not and you just did not care. That intimate, raw moment you were having with your Neteyam was much more important than anything else in the Universe.
He started using his fangs to tease your breasts slowly and you whimpered at the sting but also enjoyed the bittersweet pleasure it gave you. 
“If you want me to stop, just say it, oeyä tawtute.”
“No. Keep doing it, please” You asked
Neteyam bit your right breast harder this time and you moaned loud again. The acute feeling of his sharp fangs harassing your sensitive skin made you feel an incredible sensation that lied somewhere between discomfort and delight but that ended up just being incredibly addictive. Your folds were even more soaked by now.
“Neteyam, please, fuck me, baby” you begged “I need you.”
“Fuck, muntxate, you're so needy for me. It's so hot, yawne…” Neteyam's heavy breath collided with your skin, sending shivers all over your body
Neteyam undressed you quickly and took his loincloth off just as rapidly, his cock hard and proud, slightly curved to the side.
Neteyam took his cock in his hand and rubbed his swollen tip on your glistening clit, making your body tremble.
“Neteyam… please.” You protested
“Say you want it.” He looked into your eyes, his big golden irises shining with the sight of you in front of him, his mouth in a teasing smirk. His accent drove you insane.
“Please, fuck me…” Your face showed him how desperate you were to feel him
“Do you want me to fill you up with my cock, tawtute?” He dig for more
“Yes, Neteyam, I need your big cock inside of my pussy, please, please…” It's like you couldn't take it anymore. Your cunt felt so empty without him.
After hearing those enticing words, Neteyam swiftly placed his large blue cock at your soaked entrance and pushed it all in at once, making you moan loudly in sheer, raw pleasure. 
"Eywa, how I missed this pussy! Your ekxìn pussy feels so fucking good, my little tanhì." (star) Neteyam murmured as he thrusted hungrily into you, his big, girthy cock stretching your insides and filling you up completely.
Neteyam's feelings for you were just so strong that he felt like no words would ever be enough to express his emotions so, he was trying to show you how he felt about you by loving your body instead, pouring out all his yearning for you through his kisses, his desperate caresses, his thrusts…
"Tawtute" Neteyam cried out as he thrusted roughly into you "Oeyä muntxate." (my mate) "Mine. All mine, yawntu…" (loved one) He whimpered in your ear, melancholic and driven wild by his desire and ardent affection for you "Nga yawne lu oer." (I love you) "So, so much."
Neteyam's breath was heavy and irregular as he pounded himself into you as hard as he could. He needed you so much, he felt like he would die if he could not have all of you, if he could not claim you once and for all. It was so good that he didn't last long and came inside of you, his thick warm seed shooting strongly towards your womb. He hoped to breed you but he didn't know you were taking birth control pills. Neteyam's load of cum was so big that it leaked out of your cunt even as he was still inside of you. That was so dirty and sexy that your pussy clenched around his cock as you felt his warm liquid leaking out of your stretched entrance.
After cuddling for a while, when you were looking to find your bra that Neteyam had thrown somewhere in the sand, he looked at your breasts, the two of them full of his bite marks and a big beautiful smile adorned his full lips, followed by a joyful chuckle.
“I marked you well, syulang. Now everybody can see that you're mine. Oeyä muntxate. Mine forever.” He leaned in for a kiss, pressing his soft lips on yours, so needy. Neteyam tasted so sweet but so unique at the same time. He tasted like himself. Nothing else could compare.
You chuckled. “You're so pervy.”
“But you love it.” He smiled at you, his sharp fangs more charming than ever
“Hey! Just because I'm your mate now it doesn't mean you get to be all cocky again.” You teased, pretending to be angry, as you pushed his arm away with your hand
Neteyam only smiled wider. He was over the moon that you were now finally his. All his. Until the end of time.
Neteyam yawned, body still in full bliss because of the powerful orgasm you had given him.
“I'm sleepy, oeyä tawtute. Take a nap with me.” He was already grabbing you in his big striped arms and laying you back on the hammock with him.
“You're not giving me a choice, anyway.” You chuckled and yawned too.
Soon your tired eyes fell shut, as you felt his warm breath on your skin.
𓇼
In the middle of the afternoon, you woke up crying, desperately breathing gasping for air. Neteyam woke up startled with your panicking state. Another nightmare... One of those that left your heart aching and your mind confused for long after you woke up, wondering if it had been reality or not.
“What's wrong, yawntu?” (loved one) 
When you realized Neteyam was by your side, still holding you against his warm body, you felt relieved but only seemed to cry more. You buried your head on his soft chest and he just let you cry there, petting your head softly with his hand, his slender fingers running through your locks of hair every now and then, trying to comfort you.
Eventually you stopped crying, sniffing one last time. You placed a kiss on Neteyam's chest, your lips lingering on his skin for longer than they normally would, as if to try and make sure that he was really there with you, that he was real and was not going away.
“Wanna tell me what happened now, oeyä muntxate?” (my mate)
You looked up at his face, eyes reddish.
“I had a terrible nightmare…” just the reminder made your heart ache again “I dreamt you left me. You got tired of me and found a better mate.”
“Tawtute… that's never gonna happen.”
“You promise?” You needed to hear him promise…
“I promise.” He tried to kiss you but you backed away a bit 
“What if your parents don't approve of us? Will you leave me then?” You hated how clingy and annoying you were sounding 
Neteyam started thinking that he would have to have an endless amount of patience with you. Your fear controlled you way too often. He would have to teach you how to be a little more free. But he would do it gladly.
"Listen, yawntutsyìp" (little loved one) Neteyam held your small face inside of both his huge blue hands "We will fight whatever we have to, whatever comes our way, and we will stay together forever, okay? I'm not letting anything separate me from you. Nothing, you hear me? Nothing." He promised you.
You breathed in and decided you had to try and believe him, otherwise you would end up sabotaging your relationship with Neteyam, you would end up contributing to what you feared the most: him leaving you. What you did not know was that there was actually nothing you could do to drive Neteyam away. He had been chasing you for way too long, he had fought for you like he had fought in the war against the Sky People. Neteyam was too much of a good warrior and too proud to let you go after all that. And damn, he could not imagine a life without you. Not a life where he would be happy and fulfilled, at least. He needed you to see the morning air as fresh, to hear the song of the birds as lively, to see the light of the stars as a guide.
“Okay. I trust you, Neteyam.” You stated, utterly sure of your words this time.
𓇼
♡ Epilogue ♡
You felt safe for the first time in so long while Neteyam held you inside his big arms, his body heat spreading all over you. It felt so cozy and just so… right. Like you had finally found what you needed, what you were unconsciously looking for all along.
Safety, trust, shelter… love.
Funny how sometimes when we need love the most is when we push it away the most, hurt the people who are trying to give it to us the most because we're so terrified to get hurt again, to finally trust and be let down again that we would rather keep drowning in our pain and in our loneliness. Pain can feel comfortable, as crazy as it sounds.
Turn a curse into a kiss
You could have never seen it coming, you could have never imagined back on your Earth days that your safe place to fall would be in the arms of an alien in an exoplanet, outside of your home solar system. What a weird happy ending. But it doesn't matter. There's still much more to come. This isn't the end, it's just the beginning.
𓇼
Change the meaning of your world
Love makes no sense, love has no name
Love drowns you in tears and it sets your heart on fire
Love has no fear, love has no reason
So infinitely vast and we're standing at the edge
Take my hand, erase the past forever
Love Exists (Amy Lee)
𓇼
This is the end, guys 🥲🤍 Feels so good to give Teyam and Reader a beautiful happy ending. Thank you all so much for reading my story 💕
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@lala-1516
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@yeosxxx
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freyito · 9 months ago
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hiii first of all i just love your drabbles 🫶🫶🫶 Can i request mk1 characters reactions when their partner is hurt? yk when they found out that their s/o is in the hospital or sth. You can write for whoever you want but I would love if you include Raiden, Johnny Cage, Kenshi and Syzoth in this ❤️❤️
✭ pairing(s): liu kang, bi-han [sub zero], kuai liang [scorpion], johnny cage, kenshi takahashi, kung lao, raiden, zeffeero [rain], tomas vrbada [smoke], baraka, syztoh [reptile], havik, general shao, shang tsung, reiko (seperate) x gn reader
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✧ a/n: thank u smmmmmm anon!!! i hope this doesnt sound egotistical or anything, but i really cant get enough of people telling me they love my writing, it's really affirming and i will always appreciate it ! it's always like... woah.... really......
this is the perfect request, but i am gonna put my own little spin on this and make it pretty angsty, whoops :P super sorry this one took so long too.... ough i put my heart and soul into it. i hope i am not only tumblr user freyito to you, but an angst writer too... well most of these are angst. some are a little more fluffy and less dire... also just could not for the life of me figure out what to write for geras' so no geras in this one :(
🗒 cw: gn reader, certain character's deaths, gore/blood, depiction of death, angst, in some you are close to death, stitching without painkillers in havik's, kidnapping in shang tsung's/mention of kidnapping in rain's, not proofread
✎ wc: 6.3k
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ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ + ᴀ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
⎯Liu Kang
Not much evokes emotion in him. He is a god, he must been even with his feelings, and any shift in the balance could set so many things wrong. On the battlefield, there is no room for failure. With you, he's always been relatively neutral, he makes sure you know he loves you, and he's gentle with you. Yet, he keeps a distance. Liu Kang harbors a fear deep down, that his actions, his status, will bring you to your end. He's a sought out target, after all.
So, when those fears come true, Liu Kang can't help but feel his rage consume him. To watch Shang Tsung's claws dig deep into you, festering, plaguing your own strength. Ripping into you, decorating his hands in your warm blood. Shang Tsung had done this because of Liu Kang, he was so sure. Flames engulfed him, near incinerating the foot soldier he had been fighting. He approaches Shang Tsung, as you lay at his feet, struggling to breathe. Unforgivable. To do this to his starlight, Liu Kang will not make this mans death slow and savory, no. Within an instant, he pushes Shang Tsung's head through his own body, splitting the man in half, as well. Death is too merciful, but alas, that is not important, now.
Once the initial wave of anger washes off, adrenaline and logic set in. Liu Kang picks you up, he treats you as if you're porcelain. Just barely, as you struggle to stay conscious, you can hear him assuring you it's okay. That nothing else will happen. It is unclear whether he is saying this to you, or himself. Regardless, he leaves the battlefield quickly. He knows his comrades can handle the rest. But knowing that he is so close to losing you, as you bleed out within his arms, it is haunting. Every second counts, and he knows it. He entrusts your care to the medics at the Wu Shi academy, as much as he trusts them, he cannot bring himself to leave your side. For hours, he is still covered in your blood. His eyes do not leave your face, resting and peaceful, even with death knocking on your door.
Liu Kang is there every step of the way. When you are in recovery, he makes sure to attend every session. He brings you books, something to keep you occupied on the days where you are stuck in bed. Regrettably, he can't enjoy a lot of alone time with you, because duty calls. He'd love nothing more than to spend every waking moment with you, but he still has stuff to attend to. However, when you are cleared to leave the academy, he keeps you close. Liu Kang is afraid it will happen, the image of you bloodied and ripped up still fresh in his mind. He's only a little protective, the thought of you going back into Kombat a little rattling. But he does not stop you. Because it makes him feel better knowing that you are back on your feet.
⎯ Bi-Han
As the grandmaster's partner, Bi-Han knows that you could be caught in danger. But he does not lament this. He does not celebrate it, either. He admires that you can fight, and he loves fighting by your side. He always looks out for you, of course he does. But he cannot be by your side in a large fight, he knows you can hold your own.
It is a sharp cry that draws his attention towards you. That is all he needs. Bi-Han prides himself on being an even and logical man, but the minute he sees A Tengu assassin's knife dug deep into your ribs, he snaps. Within an instant the battlefield grows colder, and the second you blink, the assassin already has his spine ripped out and shattered. A little bit of a flashy display for a man like him, but he wastes no time in bathing in the glory of his kill. He was lucky enough that the fight was nearing an end, the last of the Tengu clan that was sent out were either retreating or being taken care of.
Off you go to the medics of the Lin Kuei, and he insists you are priority. The one thing Bi-Han was unfair with was you, near fighting with the medics to tend to your wounds. Your blood paints his hands and upper torso, and he refuses to wash it off. Not until he knows that you have priority. When the medics relent, he finally disappears to wash off. He cannot stay by your side as much as he'd like, but he's not only restricted by his title, but his emotions. He takes a couple minutes outside, to calm down his own nerves. Bi-Han does not cry, but a few shaky breaths escape him as he tries to calm himself down. His mind races with every possible outcome, ultimately landing on the worst.
But, Bi-Han's thoughts do not come to fruition. The medics have worked their magic, and you are on the path to recovery. As much as he'd love to be with you, he cannot. But, he does send you a bunch of gifts. Letters, mainly. Small incentives for you to recover quickly, but he sends in flowers frequently, as well. The days he does visit you, he is a softer man. He's especially gentle with you around your ribs. He keeps a very close eye on you during missions once you are out of recovery. He doesn't mean to seem overbearing, but his position alone paints a big ol' target on your head. This attack was the first that brought that to his attention.
⎯ Kuai Liang
Fighting alongside a pyromancer is tricky, to say the least. There's a lot of variables to account for, and aside from that, Kuai Liang can't really keep an eye on you in certain instances. This was one of them, a rather messy battle, one where he couldn't keep track of you. Not that it mattered, he knew you were strong enough to hold your own.
However, it is a stray spark that leads you to stumble back. You flinch, which drives you back into the sword of the enemy.  When Kuai sees this… the world goes silent. Water stills, flame fizzle out, swords clash and the dull clang of steel against steel quiets. Only for the water to suddenly form a raging tide, the flames to burn brighter, and the steel fades against the sound of a brilliant flame. In your fading vision, you see your partner's kusarigama impale your attacker's jaw, and pull it clean off. It is a sight he will regret later.
When the battle is over and the medics have taken you away, all Kuai Liang finds himself doing is worry. Pacing constantly, he messes up the mission report and has to have Tomas or someone else from the Shirai Ryu. He can recount things normally without a hitch, but knowing that it was him and his own ‘reckless’ use of his pyromancy with you in such close proximity makes him trip over his words, and even his thoughts. With what little free time he has, he’s pacing outside your cot, frequently checking in on the medics and the progress, until they ultimately have to push him away. Which calms him down, somewhat.
When the medics assure him that everything is fine, and that you are on the path to recovery, he’s much more relieved. He’s a lot less tense, and he’s a lot more coherent. He’s able to compose himself. Granted, he tends to sneak off (when appropriate) to check on you. He really just loves talking with you afterwards, he doesn’t want to bring up any unpleasant memories or thoughts (particularly what you saw before you blacked out), but there will always be a point where you have to talk about it. He’ll also ramp up his affection. The entire ordeal (while he knew what would come with forming the Shirai Ryu) made him realize that maybe he takes you for granted. Kuai Liang has been surrounded by death, sure, but for some reason, when it comes to those he loves… it is hard to understand that life is fleeting.
⎯ Johnny Cage
Johnny is used to deaths and his partner being hurt… on screen. He’s so used to the dramatized version, where his stage partner dies in his arms, and he wails real loud. He’s blissfully unaware that it could, in fact, happen to you in real life. He likes to think of himself as a great source of protection, believes no harm will come your way, not when you’ve got just a big, strong, handsome hunk around. And one of Earthrealm’s Defenders. As much as he’s grown, he still needs to learn a few lessons from the world.
And he’s in for a reality check. There are some unsavory characters out there, ones that aren’t too happy about his status as a whole. All he gets is a call from the hospital and a nice little greeting from officers. The only things he can make out in his newfound panic is ‘attempted murder’, and he’s REELING. He wasn’t there, he reminds himself. He doesn’t know what went down. Officers are still trying to figure it out. In his hazy and reckless state, he goes to his best friend.
Kenshi helps ease his nerves, and gives him a couple of LOGICAL ideas. Considering Shang Tsung had wormed his way into Kenshi’s life to steal Sento (and ultimately got his ass beat), he brings it up. Which leads to a whole meeting with Liu Kang, Raiden, and Kung Lao. To discuss the possible threats, and the future. Johnny cannot sit still that meeting, he’s practically bouncing off the walls, asking what this means for you. Every single question is about you, and you alone. Liu Kang dismisses him, and he practically speeds off to the hospital.
Johnny relaxes when he’s able to finally enter your room,– after a lot of arguing with the doctors about visiting hours– but his mind still spins. How could he let this slide? He should’ve been there, right? Regardless of how much blame he puts on himself, (which it was never his fault to begin with) he’s sat by your bed, sulking. From the police report, it’s clear that it was AT LEAST linked to Shang Tsung, but that’s no longer his problem. He gets you anything from the cafeteria if you ask, and he brings you flowers every. damn. day. He’s got so many gifts coming your way, that when you get discharged, you’re practically smothered by all the gifts he got you as an ‘apology’. When you ask him what he means by an apology, he doesn’t say a single word. Johnny’s very on top of your medication, he’s soooo very delicate with you, he almost condemns you to bedrest. But with enough pushback, you’re able to be up and about; but that doesn’t mean he won’t be worrying over you for quite a while. Even if Liu Kang assures him that it won’t happen again.
⎯ Kenshi Takahashi
Kenshi is aware of the danger that surrounds him and his existence in general. He’s protective of you, of course. And he knows full well that you could be swept up into the mix of the Yakuza, and his work with Liu Kang and the OIA. But, you yourself had fought hard for the relationship and made it clear that you could care less about the potential dangers; even if he felt a little frazzled at all the dangers out there. All the hands that could be grabbing at you, the guns, the knives, the weapons that would be pointed at you the minute you were spotted next to him. You didn’t care.
Yet, when he gets the call that you were involved in some crime, landing you in the hospital, his mind omits all the other details. Aside from the hospital you’re at. He even skips over the fact that it was Jax calling him. Part of him wants to cry. And he probably would, if he could. But he tries to keep himself composed. Whatever he’s been occupied with is now a distant memory, other agents can take over. As calm as he looks on the outside, there’s a war raging within him. He knew this would happen. Ever since he felt feelings for you, he knew.
When he finds you at the hospital, Sento left behind, he’s scared. He doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he can’t see you, or if he should lament over it. While the doctors had described your injuries as non-fatal, and that you’d recover in no time, Kenshi’s mind has already spun a horrifying image, but once the doctors have left, he can hear your soft breathing underneath all the bustle of the machines. And it soothes him. Only then does he find some peace of mind, you are safe, and the danger has passed. Somewhat. When his worry starts to dissipate, he remembers that Jax had actually called him first, not the hospital. When he calls Jax back, the first thing he says is that he’s taking time off, and Jax doesn’t protest. They discuss what happened and that it is now a government matter, and something that expands past OIA boundaries. The short version of the conversation is that someone from a different timeline had managed to worm their way into this one, and harm you. Someone with striking similarity to himself. 
Now that Kenshi has calmed down and knows you’re safe, he understands why the nurses and the law enforcement seemed tense around him. It unnerves him, to say the least. That another version of himself would hurt you. His heart, his guiding light. It’s also an entirely new threat that he hadn’t accounted for. Once discharged from the hospital, you have all of his attention. He’s oh so gentle with you, like any little touch and you’ll crack. He does every chore around the house for weeks, until you’ve fully healed. He cooks a lot (with the help of Sento), even bathes you (despite your protests). It’s his way of an apology for what happened, and not just that, but an apology for being with him. He holds immense regret over this, knowing that– even if it was another him from another timeline– he did this.
⎯ Kung Lao
Kung Lao is… protective, alright. And that often gets swept up within his cockiness. Of course, you do feel pretty safe with him. Maybe not around the hat, but you do feel safe around him. Aside from his interesting choice of weapon, he’s a great martial artist. And also just someone who’s really nice to cuddle with. He’s a Shaolin Master, of course he’s going to be a horrifying opponent.
And, there would be hell to pay if anyone hurt his love. He isn’t just all bark. Even the thought of you being hurt has him seething, he tends to overthink. There’s a lot of things that have made him realize that he may be a high value target– even if he can’t help but think he’s done nothing to get to that point. But, under Liu Kang, and just the title ‘Defender of Earthrealm’, there’s some sort of pride that lingers. Something that makes him want to challenge anyone and everyone he can, tell them to ‘bring it on’.
But not at the expense of you. The one thing bigger than his ego? His heart. So, when you stride into Wu Shi Academy,– though, limp is the better term– all cut up and bruised, barely able to speak or see, there’s a rage that burns within Lao. One that even Raiden hasn’t seen. He can’t help but run his mouth about how he’ll teach whoever the hell got to you a lesson. But he’s also despondent, he barely touches his food, he barely shows up to Madame Bo’s… and that makes her worried, until she learns about what happened to you from Raiden. Now not only does the culprit have a bastard with a really sharp hat after them, but the most badass little old lady after them, too. Madame Bo loves you like one of her own, really. She dotes on you, where she’ll normally scold the boys. You are her golden child.
Ultimately, their shared hunt leads to a dead end. Your mind is too hazy to remember anything aside from a silhouette, before getting beaten senseless. As much as Lao seems hellbent on tracking the culprit down, he ultimately gives up when you ask him. But, as you recover, he seems to be in much better spirits. He likes to curl up next to you at night (despite the monks telling him not to), just to reassure him that you’re safe. And Madame Bo arguably puts on more of a show than Lao does. She treats you with free food every day of your recovery, and when you’ve got clearance to be walking around without supervision again, she’s made a FEAST for you. While it feels all sunshine and rainbows once you’ve recovered, Kung Lao works tirelessly to get better. He blames himself, mainly for the fact that no matter what he did, he couldn’t find the one who did this to you. Even if you tell him outright that it is okay. It’s another mark on his list of failures, to him.
⎯ Raiden
When he got the amulet, Raiden didn’t exactly have it down. It took a great deal of focus and strength to hone it, more than he’s known. Sure, there have been some points where it feels like he’s got it down, like he can actually control the lightning. But before the tournament, he had a hard time controlling it, and spent many days doing his best to hone this new power. It was exhausting, and took a toll on him, both physically and mentally. He might have been trained nearly his whole life in martial arts, but that doesn’t necessarily correlate to any sort of magic.
However, it is his connections that ground him. Kung Lao, yes. But you, mainly. Normally, his training sessions with the amulet consist of him trying not to fry Lao, while you sit by and encourage him. A positive environment encourages progress, right? That’s what Raiden thinks, anyway. And all things considered, he’s doing well today. The lightning had been easily tamed, Lao hadn’t been zapped, and all was well.
While training with a staff, however, one wrong move sends a strike horrifyingly close to you. You barely register what happened, the loud bang by your right is followed by a popping feeling, like you’ve been in high altitude, a sharp pain through your eardrum, and then a dull ringing in your right ear. Raiden comes running up to you near immediately, checking over you. Your mind spins at how fast things happened, so you can’t necessarily explain clearly to him what you felt. Before you can collect yourself, Raiden is suddenly set on high-alert, and hauling you away to the medics at Wu Shi. Even Lao is a little confused as he follows after the two of you.
At the medics, you’re able to piece everything together. Ruptured eardrum, and Raiden can’t help but blame himself for it. When you’re getting checked over, Raiden is pacing outside, and Lao is trying desperately to calm him down. It had been a fear of his since the very start of his training. But as time went on and you went unharmed… it started to slip into the back of his mind. He feels horrible for letting go of that worry, for letting it happen. And when the medics let you go and tell you that it’ll heal in a couple weeks, you do your best to comfort him next to Lao. When it’s just you two, however, Raiden is a lot more calm. The adrenaline of the moment got to him earlier. Still, all he feels he can do is apologize, as much as you assure him it’s fine. Over the next couple of weeks, he’s very, very mindful of himself. He’s practically banned you from his training sessions, he makes sure to approach you from your left side or make his presence known if he’s coming up from behind you.
⎯ Zeffeero
There’s not much Rain has to worry about in his day-to-day life, even with his status as High Mage. He knows his title holds weight, but he believes that if he spends all his time worrying, something will happen sooner or later, and he’ll be more of a mess if it comes true. He’s more worried about his actual duties, coming home to you (almost) every night, and what books he will read on his days off.
That being said, he isn’t able to spend all his time with you. Which is a bummer, really. His job isn’t necessarily ‘remote’. He doesn’t worry over you too much, he knows you’re strong enough to cover for yourself. And those who are against him and the royalty should be smarter and focus their attention towards him and Sindel. Keyword, should.
So, when Zeffeero is met by the couriers during his duties, he’s confused. The only words he can make out in their frantic speech is your name, and hostage. Which snaps him out of his normally calm demeanor. But, regardless, he does his best to stay collected. He gets the couriers to explain the situation clearly, that Sindel’s detractors had chosen you out of all people to make an example. The good news is that it was dealt with just as quickly as you had been taken away, criminals don’t really get their way so easily in Sun Do, especially.
But that doesn’t mean they didn’t do a number on you. Rain immediately puts his work to the side and meets you at the infirmary. You’re pretty beat up, a couple bruises on your arms and a gash on your forehead, and the medics inform him that you’ll need to stay here for at least another week, you’ve gotten a couple of bruised ribs, as well. For the next couple of days, he is by your bedside, perfectly on time when the medics open up visiting hours. He’ll even do his work by your side, filling countless journals and going through way too many reports as he does.
⎯ Tomas Vrbada
Stealth missions require the utmost focus, especially ones of this caliber. Tomas is confident in your ability, so he doesn’t worry unnecessarily over you. But his mind can tend to wander sometimes. Still, he does his best to remain on track, stalking through the rampart. It was a simple recon mission, keep an eye on the territory. It had been left abandoned after the events of Armageddon, but there had been indications that Bi-Han was looking to start something there again. Considering the cyberization of the Lin Kuei, Kuai Liang and Tomas agreed to simply check it out, make sure nothing was being done.
And they were right to be suspicious. Either out of paranoia, or a hunch, Bi-Han had sent scouts as well. This makes the operation a lot more high-risk, both parties may be aware of each other, but have no idea where the other is. It looks as if there’s a rather hefty amount of spies in the rampart as well. As Tomas stalks through the tops of the wall, searching for anything slightly out of place, he gets the sudden feeling that he’s being watched.
Just as he raises his head, he hears the thwip of a bow string, causing him to jerk away from his position. An arrow flies past his head, a few centimeters from it, and as he follows it’s trajectory, he sees you, across the rampart. Fighting with two ninjas, doing your best to, well, stay alive. Realizing that you two are horribly outnumbered, he completely ignores the archer behind him. Utilizing his practical magic, he wastes no time disappearing and taking off. It’s not as easy as it sounds, practically throwing himself off the wall and doing what he can to make it across the rampart. As adrenaline rushes through him, his actions are near mindless, reckless, jumping over stray ballistas and rubble.  Does he know that this could put his life at risk? That it puts the mission at risk? Yes. But there’s a tiny voice inside of him that screams at him, tells him you are much more important than the mission. He got the intel anyways.
Things blur together for Tomas after that. He can’t remember exactly how he reached you, he can’t remember what he did with the two ninjas, the only thing that brings him back to the present moment is the pained breaths of yours and heaved gasps. He’d been singing some lullaby that he couldn’t remember the name of, his voice cracking here and there. His throat is raw, blood pouring from a head wound, and he can’t tell if the blood coating his arms is from you, who lay motionless (but thankfully breathing) in his arms, the ninjas, or his own. He’s barely noticed that he’s made his way to Harumi’s house. Not to Kuai Liang– to Harumi. Which, eventually, the knowledge that you’ve been hurt and that the Lin Kuei are pushing to claim territory over the Rampart. When Harumi guides the two of you to a room while she calls for the medics, all Tomas can do is blame himself. He’s spaced out the entire time, the only thing that snaps him out of his catatonic state is when they try to separate the two of you. He doesn’t let them. He doesn’t let anyone separate you from him. He’s too scared that he will lose you.
⎯ Baraka
While the restrictions on those inflicted with Tarkat have been lifted slightly, there is still some public animosity towards Tarkattens. And some of those people tend to direct their anger at those who support this decision, or those close to those afflicted with Tarkat. And unfortunately, you just so happen to be one of those people.
You aren’t entirely vocal about your relationship with Baraka, but you aren’t entirely quiet about it, either. The only reason Baraka doesn’t talk about you two is because he is afraid of what could happen to you. It doesn’t matter if the public’s opinion will turn, if there will ever be a cure, he has always been distant. He loves you, and good god, he’d do anything to even hold your hand. But he is afraid. He can’t help but be afraid of what will happen to you.
And rightfully so, when you are visiting Sun Do with Baraka. It’s a routine visit, to talk about how to integrate precautions for those with Tarkat, and how the vaccine progress is coming along. It feels like hours in a stuffy room, talking with Mileena. Eventually, you step out for a moment, to get some fresh air, and to clear your head. Unfortunately, one of the people against the aid for Tarkattens takes this as an opportunity to attack you in broad daylight.
Luckily, you don’t have to suffer much. A couple of kicks and hits that have left a couple of bruises, but the Constabulary was able to pull them off you quickly. The commotion brings Mileena and Baraka out, which leaves you feeling a little flustered. Needless to say, the talks for that day are cut short, and Baraka spends his time worrying about you. He asks you to stay in Sun Do for a while, that he can handle the talks himself now.
⎯ Syzoth
Syzoth’s biggest fear is Shang Tsung. Even after all is said and done, the fear still lingers. With his past, he can’t help but worry, especially about you. He wants to imagine a future with you, and he’s more than content with the days you two spend together, but he will never be able to shake the idea of his happiness being ripped from him again. While he is still all cuddly with you, there is something always gnawing at him. An eternal dread.
And his fears come true, in some way. He had to leave home for a couple of days, out on official business. It was nothing major, nothing that would pull him from you for longer than a week. Integrating yourself along with Zatterans was a challenge alright, something you didn’t mind facing. Syzoth had said it was a good way to get them used to humans, to earthrealmers.
However, when he comes back home, he is greeted by you, with a black eye, and multiple, bandaged, gashes down your arms. You smile at him warmly, despite your injuries, which have had at least two days to heal. He’s stunned, and after a moment of silence, he’s all over you, asking question after question. Despite what he asks, he knows what the Zatterans have done to you.
He tells himself he should’ve known, as they had killed those with his mutation, he should’ve known that they would’ve treated you the same. You can’t give him exact details, you can’t even give him a description. It happened all too fast, and you were helpless in the moment. He spends the next week by your side, never leaving, unless it was for food, or necessities. When you two are out, he’s very diligent about his surroundings, and those around them. Most of the Zaterrans express their apologies to you, even if it wasn’t them, which makes Syzoth even more wary about who he should be keeping an eye on.  
⎯ Havik
Danger comes with the territory of dating Havik. Yeah, he keeps you close, but he’s wanted. And he’s well aware, he tends to get himself in fights quite often. If you wanna participate? Hells yeah, he’s all in. But if you’d rather sit back, hide away, anything like that, he doesn’t mind. Even if he prefers a more active partner on the battlefield. Just because he’s got his anarchic ways and enjoys a little bloodbath every now and then, doesn’t mean he’s thrown care and (at least) sympathy into the wind. Granted, it’s hard to coax that reaction out of him.
But, it’s different with you. His heart; quite literally. He’d do anything for you, he’s (almost) as obedient as a dog. But when he gets to watch you in kombat… it’s a treat. He’s like actually drooling. He’s got a twisted sort of smile on his face when you slash through enemies. Sometimes just the thought of it makes him blush. He’s a little fucked up, actually! But for a being who thrives on chaos, that’s the norm.
When it comes to you being injured, if it’s just a little nick, (which is categorized very loosely; can be deep cuts, slashes, not just a scrape) he doesn’t find any reason to retaliate against your assailant. Havik is proud to have a lover that can take care of things themselves, but that doesn’t mean he won’t leap at the chance to tear someone limb from limb. Especially if you’re wounded near fatally. That’s when any semblance of humanity leaves him. He’s brutal, horribly so, and for once, you have to turn your head away.
When the fight’s done, Havik returns to you, covered in blood and viscera. He made it quick, as much as he would’ve enjoyed making it slow and painful, he knows that time is of the essence. Given his situation, he can’t really take you anywhere. So a little impromptu ‘healing’ session is underway. Some alcohol (that’s 100% not stolen) and some pressure to make sure the bleeding stops and that you don’t get an infection. After, he’s got to stitch up the wound. As he does so, he’s murmuring praises,– a rare thing from him, really– doing his best to make this as painless as possible.
⎯ General Shao
There is no greater place than the battlefield to Shao. It is something he grew up on, and to be fighting side by side with his beloved, it fills him with pride. Of course, he knows the dangers, he knows there’s a target on his back, but he could care less. He almost revels in it. Yes, he’ll worry about you, but he also knows that you can handle yourself.
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t above teaching those who choose to hurt you a lesson. He’s sensible, he’s strong, and he’s just a little, teensy weensy bit protective of you. Of course, you can handle fights on your own. But it’s when the enemies got you in a tough spot, managed to daze you, anything like that. That’s when Shao lets hell break loose.
A sword pierces through your arm, and while it’s not fatal, the minute Shao sees it, he’s raging. A bloody warpath follows him as he marches towards the assailant, the opponent he had been fighting long forgotten. He can’t gloss over an injury like that, he is unsure if they had cut through the brachial artery. So he makes it quick, practically splitting them in two as you watch. The battle continues to rage on, but all Shao can do is huff and encourage you to make an escape,– mainly because he’s afraid you might bleed to death– even if you don’t want to.
At the end of it all, you oblige, retreating and making it to the field medics. You are glad to hear that they did not cut through your brachial artery, and that you won’t bleed to death. But the gash in your arm still needs treatment. You’re stuck in that tent for quite a bit, mourning the loss of a good fight. That is, until Shao interrupts. He’s barely pulled back the tarp of the entrance, and he’s already looking for you. And when he spots you, lying down with a defeated look, bored as hell, he’s at your side within an instant. He needs to know the damage, if it’ll take you out of combat, etc etc. He quietly worries over you, which is quite charming in its own way.
⎯ Shang Tsung
Shang Tsung is no pushover. He may be despised, he may have been outcast, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stand there and take it. Especially when it comes to you. He’s a bit of a drama queen, sure, but he’s charming. Even after everything, it seems like people won’t forgive him. They aren’t wrong to leave him unforgiven, either.
But, their anger should be pointed towards him. So when he receives a letter for ransom via courier, he’s rightfully pissed. How dare they take his sunshine away from him, all because of what he’s done. What he’s done. And to try and rip him off, as well. You aren’t worth a mere 50,000 koins! You’re worth at least 5mil! Needless to say, he’s fuming.
What’s he going to do? Ask the Constabulary to help? No! He’s more than capable of handling it himself. A little dirt on his hands never hurt anybody. Time is short, so he rushes over the details. A couple sleepless nights spent scouting, collecting any sort of information, and he’s off to a shabby little shack in the wastes. The audacity of these people to not only take you from him, demand 50k koins, but also keep you in some run-down place! As much as he’s nitpicking what they’ve done to you, he’s doing it to calm himself down. Yeah, he’s got this in the bag, but any one taking his love from him, especially with malicious intent, makes him scarier than his most evil counterparts.
It is there where Shang Tsung finds out the kidnappers haven’t necessarily… prepared. Only two captors, and they’re dealt with easily. Torn into like meat, left to rot. He disregards their state, food for the vultures and whichever desperate soul wanders past. You’re a mess, head down, mind hazy, legs weak. He treats you like a knight saving his darling, picking you up bridal style. He coos at you, whispering things like ‘you’re alright’, and ‘I’m here now’ as he takes you away.
⎯ Reiko
It’s a calm evening, paired with a little sparring. As Reiko watches you train an over-ambitious rookie, he seems lost in thought. Why? It’s unsure. It feels like he’s simply lost his grip lately, he feels that he hasn’t been doing well in combat, and has actually regressed with his progress. Seeing you humble the soldier over and over again somehow reminds him of this, telling himself he needs to catch up on his training, build on his weaknesses.
It’s a subtle snap that brings him back to reality. It seems the trainee had enough of your teaching, and didn’t quite enjoy the lessons you were drilling– punching– into them. They’ve managed to pin you down, thanks to a very direct, very heated punch to the face. They’ve got you in a headlock, spouting nonsense at you like you’ve greatly offended them. You groan, so close to yelling out uncle. But, you’ve gotta admit, you like their fire. Even if it severely clouds their judgment.
Reiko is quick to pull them off of you, grabbing them by the nape as if they were a dog. It’s a little bit of a struggle, mainly the trainee squirming and protesting like a child who’s been denied candy. It’s shameful for him, but the very thought of the runt taking advantage of the moment to hurt you makes him believe they are unbefitting of a soldier. And it makes him a little pissed. He’s lecturing them, doing his best to hold back some very choice words. All the while you’re nursing your possibly broken nose, trying to get Reiko to let up on them. Eventually, you just shoo them away, and then give Reiko his own lecture. They’re your student, so they’ll get your discipline.
He’s not the best at consoling you, especially over something that he’s deemed ‘minor’. A quick ‘are you okay?’ and a nod is all he really gives you. But, after you’ve ended the training session early, and confirmed that your nose isn’t broken, Reiko picks up the opportunity to hone in his skills. Given the fact that you still had time left in your schedule, you take up his offer.
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wutheringcaterpillar · 8 months ago
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Omg pleeeease I need a dark/angsty Tommy fic where he ends up hurting the reader? Like an argument gets too heated and he ends up slapping her or something. Like maybe she was flirting and dancing a bit too much with someone at a party they’re hosting and he gets jealous and drags her to their room, then they start arguing and he gets so enraged that he basically sees red and absolutely slaps the hell out of her (some non con/dub con smut after as well???). Just need some heavy, dark, possessive, violent, scary/mean Tommy Shelby 😫 The darker the better lol
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Warnings: noncon, p in v + anal, physical abuse, degradation, threats with a gun, some blood play, misogyny, name calling
Hope you enjoy! Thank you!
Tommy watched from afar, seeing you and Ada drunk, giggling like a bunch of school girls at a table filled with men. He may not be able to control his sister but his wife was another subject. People were beginning to stare, especially the men Tommy needed on his good side for now. The dress you were wearing was skin tight, your panties just barely showing through the thin black fabric. 
Tonight was a prestige dinner with delegates that Shelby Limited was in talks for business deals. The plan was too conversate, find weak spots, understand the patterns of movements, but the only thing Tommy was focused on was you, a long with every other man.
Even Arthur made a remark, a statement that angered Tommy even more. “Y/N’s quite the appeal tonight isn’t she?” Arthur chuckled, taking someone’s glass of whiskey and finishing it himself.
“What are you talking about?”
“Look at her, need to cherish her better brother before another man makes a move.” That was it, that was enough. When Tommy slammed his glass down and started to walk away Arthur pulled him back, pleading and convincing Tommy to just allow you to have fun for a night but he wouldn’t listen. Frowning, Arthur returned to the table, grabbing another drink whilst Tommy tried to keep his compusure. Greeting and checking in with the guests before approaching your flailing, inebriated body.
Three tradesman of London were in attendance, the blatant look of disgust from where they stood at the bookcase, giving your husband a look of disapproval before carrying on in conversation.
“Tommy! My husband, come here!” When you attempted to pull him down by the sleeve of his expensive suit, he pulled back, tucking his hands in his pockets, giving you a stern expression that told you to follow him.
Pouting, you crossed your arms, rolling your eyes annoyed, picking up a bottle of champagne before walking away with him, making flirtatious remarks to random men as you wobbled away until you were in the master bedroom.
Closing the door, you fell onto the floor laughing in a disarray of emotions, your vision blurry and your eyes dilated. Tommy pulled the nearly empty bottle from your hands, tossing it into the corner of the room before grabbing your wrist forcing you up onto your feet.
“What the fuck are you doing, eh? Are you stupid, is that it? You know how important tonight is and you go and fucking wreck it, bidding yourself off to other men when you are a married, taken woman.”
“Relax Tommy, we’re just having fun. What the boys can do whatever they damn well please but because of what’s between my legs I’m expected to just be formal, elegant?” Tommy looked at you with expecting eyes, not understanding where the confusion is. There were important men here tonight and seeing you galavanting around like some whore and being incoherently drunk made his blood boil. 
Biting dowm on his tongue and locking his jaw, he pointed with dictation, sapphire eyes raging with fire as he seethed out the following words.
“Yes. It’s that fucking simple. You can’t even fucking stand up straight.” Scoffing, you tiptoed around the room, holding onto the dresser to keep your warm, sweating body from falling. The room was spinning but that didn’t change the anger from the double standard that was always set against you. You hadn’t thought before speaking, the words simply sputtering out what you’ve held in.
“You should be thanking me for flirting with them, without me you’d have nothing. I’m simply the means to an end to the shit deals you can’t make on your own.”
Tommy cut you off with the back of his hand slapping across your cheek ferociously, silencing you for good. Grabbing for the bruising skin, you looked back at your husband in shock and fear. He’s never, ever layed a hand on you.
When you ran for the door, he was faster, shoving the wooden object closed with his hand and yanking you back by the strands of your hair, pushing you carelessly onto the bed.
His hands tightened around your wrists as he shoved his hardened member upward against your mound.
“I’d have nothing eh? I’ll show you what it’s like to be treated like you’re nothing.” 
Screaming hysterically, you wept as Tommy ripped the expensive gown, exposing the bare, delicate skin of your thighs. Hitting and fighting against his chest to push him away, he simply lifted his hand, slapping you harshly once more to stop the whining. 
You pressed your hand gently against your temple, a headache forming in the core of your mind from the impactful blow. 
Hearing the buckle of his belt, you panicked but were too weak to defend yourself from the man who claimed to be your husband.
“Maybe if you had just listened and weren’t a fucking whore tonight we wouldn’t be in this postion. Someone’s forgotten their place eh?” Pushing the thin laced fabric of your panties aside, he thrusted upward, letting his thick length penetrate you without any lube. Writhing and seething in pain below him, tears prickled at your eyes, not recognizing who was staring at you anymore.
Spitting at his face, he smiled slyly, a dark twisted grin bellowing at what you had done.
Returning the favor he spat back, hitting you once more with a forceful, strong slap that echoed through the room and knocked out your hearing in one ear.
“Don’t forget sweetheart. I own you, you’re my property.” Wrapping his hands around your throat, you struggled for air as he drilled into your dry cunt, shredding open the sensitive skin like a grater would cheese. Blood slowly leaked out from your pussy, the ability to scream non existent as your airway was constricted, bruising as his nails dug into your skin.
When your hands reached up to try to push him away from your neck, desperate for air, he shed himself of his tie, wrapping the fabric around your wrists tightly to the headboard and shoved his underwear in your mouth. 
Slapping your cunt repeatedly, he mocked your whimpers, feeling your walls slowly start to produce your sweet syrup against your will.
“How pathetic, is this what you wanted? Someone likes me cock, who knew my wife was a little fucking whore.” Screeching beneath the makeshift gag, your skin seethed in pain, wanting nothing more for this to be over.
His hands grasped at your breasts, tugging and pulling at your nipples, smitten by how easily your body gave in to him. 
Flipping you over onto your stomach, he spread your ass cheeks, pulling the fatty skin apart finding that tight, untouched hole you’d been denying him for so many years, now he was going to take it for himself.
There was nowhere for you to go, your eyes searched, panicked looking for anything to get you out of these bindings, but there was nothing. 
Aligning himself with your taint, you could feel the rounded head of his shaft resting at your virgin entrance. Every bone and muscle in your violated body tensed when his head pushed through your strained, congested walls. You screamed in agony as he wasted no time burying himself balls deep in your taint.
“Oh fuck…Didn’t know you could feel this good love. My little slave, that ass devouring me cock. About time I reminded you of your place. Nothing but a slut, a mere stupid little bitch.” He moaned in between thrusts as he fucked your anus, pounding your ass up and down on his shaft while holding the cheeks of your ass roughly. The sporadic pain was different than your pussy, far more intensified. It didn’t feel like stinging anymore, the size of his penis sent flames of fire through your hole.  
When he buried his neck into the crook of your neck while he continued to pump relentlessly into you. You fumbled with the bindings while he wasn’t paying attention. 
Realessing a choked sob, you were on the verge of being free, fidgeting with the tight knot with a tremendous effort, working over the fabric through the tears and painful agony, but you weren’t as smooth as you thought. Tommy’s hand shot up, slamming down on yours and pulled you arms behind your back, causing the gag to fall out in the process.
“Help! Help! Ah-“ Striking you in the back of your waeay head, he shoved his fingers between your lips, invading your mouth and pulling at the sides of your lips.
“Shut the fuck up. Listen to me, are you listening sweetheart?” You whimpered through his fingers, nodding your head, squeezing your eyes closed in a pained expression when he thrusted his cock violently with a force of strength and dominance.
“No one is coming to your rescue, you belong to me, and I have the right to use and abuse my property all I want and you will listen, or suffer the consequences as you are right now. Get up.” Tommy pulled you onto his lap, reinserting his lengthy shaft into your soaking wet walls. You mewled from the discomfort, struggling to make eye contact with Tommy. 
His lips connected to your hardened nipples, biting down on the flesh harshly, aiming to draw blood. Slapping you across the face once again, your head whipped to the other side fiercly.
“Ride me. Go on, you claim to be so great in bed to those men out there. Can’t treat your husband the same?” Another backhand, before his hand gripped the fat of your ass cheeks, slamming you up and down on his cock, an immense joy curdling within him from seeing your pathetic tears.
Then an idea struck you, if you’r just get him off surely he’d let you go. A satisfied grin spread across his face when you began to rotate your hips, staring slowly at first before picking up speeding. 
“Ah, fuck, that’s it love. Show me what that worthless cunt can do.” You continued to whine and whimper as you rode his cock, your ass landing on his thighs with each powerful bounce, your breasts flying up and down for his amusement.
You could feel him begin to pulsate, he was close, very close.
Arching your back, Tommy focused in on your pussy devouring his lengthy member with each pivotal motion of your hips. Your walls tightened, constricting his length, and within seconds his seed was filling your tortured void, flooding into your ovaries.
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At that moment you moved as fast as lightning, taking the lamp and smashing it over his head to try to escape his bitter soul. Rushing to put clothes on, you ran to the door, thinking that someone would help you but Tommy wasn’t weak and you were nowhere nearly as strong as him. He was quick to recover, but not as quick as you. Throwing on a nightshirt and slipping on the closest thing to work as underwear, you opened the door just nearly out when Tommy pulled on his pants, rolling over the bed and running, rushing toward you, slamming the door closed once again. 
You punched the door in defeat, frightened to turn around until he forced you to, pulling out something you’d never thought he’d use as a threat to you.
“If you think I am playing some sort of sick game, you are sadly mistaken sweetheart. Now get back on the fucking bed, you’ve done enough tonight.” Removing the safety, he pointed the gun directly on the middle of your forehead, the cool metal barrel sending chills down your spine. Is this what your marriage had come to? How were you supposed to move forward from this catastrophic night? Surely people would notice the bruises but then again, no one ever questioned Tommy Shelby, not anyone that gave a shit about their life.
Surrendering you rose your arms, the shaking of your trembling hands visible. The man facing you, you no longer recognized. There was no guilt, or shame, or any type of love present in those venomous, frigid eyes, he really wasn’t joking. Making your way back to the bed, you tucked your head onto the pillow, weeping relentlessly into the case of the feathered object. Tommy layed the gun down on the table, taking a seat beside you. You flinched away from his cold, heartless touch, terrified of what was to come next.
“I need to go back and entertain our guests. You stay here and be good. Can you do that?” He twisted your labia, pinching the sensitive skin, causing you a tremendous amount of pain, reminding you what could happen if you don’t listen.
Nodding with fearful, tired eyes, you watched as Tommy dressed himself, and stayed in your fragile position on the soiled sheets, eventually crying yourself to sleep in the dark room.
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nayedoll · 4 months ago
Text
Baby came home
joost klein x fem!reader
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rpf below, pls don’t read if you’re uncomfortable!!!
read part 2 here
summary: reader and joost used to be together but broke up. four years later they meet again, having realized their mistakes.
warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut (blowjob, unprotected p in v), angsty
word count: 6k
a/n: this is kiiiiind of based on the songs ‘baby came home’ and ‘baby came home 2/ valentines’ by the nbhd fyi if u want to listen to them!! also im sorry that im yapping sm in the first paragraphs i promise joost is gonna show up lol🥲. anyways enjoy!!!!!!
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You enter the bathroom, the deafening music from the club reducing to a muffled sound as the door behind you closes. Your hand immediately reaches for the sink and you look up to see your blurry reflection in the mirror. The dark red tint of your lipstick has faded by now and your eyes look tired under the bathroom lighting, lightly smudged with mascara.
You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut in order to get ahold of yourself. The floor underneath you is vibrating with the sound of the loud bass, mirroring the quick rhythm of your heartbeat as you open your eyes again, meeting your distressed gaze in the mirror. You feel lost, unable to recognize yourself under the layers of makeup as tears threaten to spill from your eyes.
Today wasn’t supposed to go like this. You expected it to be another long night of partying with your coworkers, the group of you sat in the fancy vip sofas as always, drinking champagne and gossiping. You never really liked them or their snobbish attitude, the only reason you always agreed to go out with them being your job — a stylist for one of New York’s biggest fashion magazines.
You had always wanted to be involved in fashion so naturally when you got the opportunity to work for such a prestigious magazine two years ago, you accepted every part of the job, the good and the bad. It was sort of an unspoken rule; if you wanted to go higher, you’d have to make compromises — and for you that compromise was to tolerate all the rich elites you worked with, pretend to be one of them.
You thought your plan had been working, especially with how your boss was treating you lately, even promising to give you the promotion you so badly wanted and deserved.
So naturally, when she announced another person as the art director today, you couldn’t help but protest, ask for an explanation from your boss who called you crazy in her usual patronizing tone. With the help of alcohol in your system, the complaints soon turned into a heated argument as you resigned, left the table and ended up… here.
Maybe I should have never left the Netherlands; this is the only thought going through your mind right now as you let out one last shaky breath and your tears gradually come to a stop, leaving a reddish blush on your cheeks as a confirmation that you have been crying. You slightly fix your makeup, clearing the smudged mascara under your eyes before leaving the bathroom.
The music gets progressively louder as you re-enter the large venue filled by people dancing.
You glance at the vip section one last time, easily spotting the people you unfortunately know so well, dressed in expensive designer clothes. They are chatting and laughing as if nothing has happened, the same fake smiles lingering on their faces. You scoff to yourself, all those years of working together and not one of them cares enough to check on you.
You don’t bother to stay any longer and make a turn for the exit door, as the music from the club gradually fades.
The familiar security guard opens the door for you and you smile subtly at him for what you hope will be the last time.
The air is cold and humid against your hot body, causing you to wince as you put on your lightweight jacket that doesn’t do much to warm you up.
You look around you, blinded by the vibrant lights reflecting off the windows of the tall buildings and restaurants. Despite how late it is, the city is still as busy as ever with numerous people walking by, going from club to club and the loud music from cars is booming at every corner.
You decide to rest on a wall a few meters away, seeing as your ride home was one of your coworkers but that scenario doesn’t seem very likely anymore.
You pull out a cigarette from your purse and your trembling fingers rush to light it, desperate to feel the addictive burn in your throat.
For the first time in a long while, you suddenly feel better, relieved as if a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It almost feels liberating to not work at that place anymore, knowing you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not, that this may be your chance to escape the toxic environment you’ve been living in and find your old self back.
“Y/n?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you instinctively whip your head to the direction you heard it come from, then pause. In front of you, is standing Joost.
Joost as in your ex boyfriend from the Netherlands.
You met him shortly after having moved to the country because of your dad’s job, both of you being just 17 without the experience of any previous partners and big feelings. It didn’t take long before you got into a relationship, the newfound passion of a first love quickly drawing you closer together and taking over your minds. It was the first time in your life that you had such strong feelings for someone, especially someone you had known for so little at that. You really thought you had found the perfect man, the one you would someday marry and start a life with, no matter the hardships.
But as time passed, the problems soon began to emerge in your relationship. The main issue lied with the fact that you both didn’t exactly know how to convey your feelings and emotions to one another; Joost opted to ignore them and move on, whereas you often came off as controlling and selfish in an attempt to show him just how much you cared.
You loved each other a lot — and you both knew that — but inevitably you broke up with him in the heat of an argument, the biggest one you’d had yet. In the following month, you barely talked and it was then that you made the impulsive decision to move back to New York, finding no reason in staying in Amsterdam anymore. You didn’t tell Joost but he found out eventually, leading to another big argument just one day before your flight and then another month of no contact.
At last, you did talk things through, him calling to apologize and try to make things right again as you cried over the phone because you knew it was too late for either of you to make up for all the problems.
It’s been 4 years since then in which you kept some sort of communication, mostly on your birthdays and on holidays or when he replied to your story sometimes and vice versa.
You stare up at him in shock. “Joost?” You blurt out, blinking repeatedly as if to make sure he is actually here.
He smiles, his dimples bringing back a bundle of memories and you get chills just at that.
“Hey,” He pulls you into a hug which you reluctantly return, careful to not burn him with your cigarette as you linger in his arms a moment longer, taking in the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with what seems to be cigarettes.
“How have you been?” You ask, eyeing him up and down.
He looks slightly different, having grown into his face through the years. His hair is still the same shade of blonde, though grown out as it sticks out under his hat and you notice the small trimmed mustache on his face. He’s just about the same height, maybe slightly taller as he towers over you even with your heels on.
“Good, everything’s good I guess,”
“Yeah? I heard your album did well last year,” Albino; It had popped up on your feed a few times but you hadn’t looked into it too much, in fear of undoing all your efforts to get over Joost.
“Are you stalking me?” His question coaxes a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes at him.
“Get over yourself,” You say playfully, “I saw Tantu post about it on Instagram,”
Joost grins and nods as a response. “How have you been?” He redirects your initial question to you.
You take a moment to respond as you awkwardly look away from him. If you were to be honest with him, you’d say you’re basically all alone, crying and second guessing yourself on the daily — also without a job from now on — but you find that it may be too direct of an answer for the situation.
Instead you say, “Not too bad either,” giving him a weak smile.
“Still in fashion?” He asks, his words unknowingly sting but you try your best to look okay.
“Mhm,” You nod, “I uh- I work for a fashion magazine,” Or maybe worked would be a better word, you think to yourself.
“That’s awesome,”
“I guess so,” You can’t help but let a sigh fall from your lips, hinting at the insincerity of your words. Joost senses it because he furrows his eyebrows at you as if to ask you what’s wrong but you don’t let him.
“Want a cigarette?” You hold out your pack of cigarettes that’s almost empty, in hopes of changing the subject. Joost gets the message and takes a cigarette from the package, deciding not to bother you with any more questions. Besides, it isn’t exactly his business after so many years of barely any contact.
You light the cigarette that hangs from his lips as your eyes meet over the small orange flame and you stay silent, watching as he takes a long drag.
“By the way,” You utter “Why are you in New York?” Maybe it’s a dumb question as obviously a trip would be the reason, but frankly you’re more curious about who he is here with.
Joost goes on to explain, “Me and my friends booked this trip a while ago,” He exhales a thick plume of smoke.
“I don’t see anyone here,” You look around, searching for the familiar faces of his friends.
“They’re sitting at that bar over there,” He nods to the small building that is just a few meters away, the one you have passed by countless times after leaving the club. “I just came out here to make a few calls,” He adds.
“To your girlfriend?” You can’t help but ask him, the drinks you had earlier playing a part in your bluntness. You’re not drunk but definitely intoxicated enough to not feel embarrassed, especially when you see how Joost’s face lights up at your question.
“Nee, I don’t have one,” He gives you a cheeky smile, “Why? Are you curious?”
You shake your head, looking down to the concrete ground, “No, just… asking,” Your voice is weak as you shy away from your words.
“Alright,” You hear him chuckle, it makes you smile too for some reason.
“But I’m sure you have a boyfriend,” He says causing you to look back at him in confusion, “He must be waiting for you inside that club,” He points to the same building you were in just a few minutes ago.
“Where did you get that from?” You laugh in between your words, making it clear you do not in fact have a boyfriend.
“I don’t know,” He shrugs his shoulders, smiling down at you. “You’re pretty, why wouldn’t you have a boyfriend?” You bite the inside of your mouth, fighting back a smile but Joost sees you, secretly enjoying the effect his words still have on you.
“Haven’t found the right one yet,” Both of you know that’s not true. You had found the right one, in fact he’s standing right next to you but you both just had to ruin everything.
Joost knows you don’t mean that, but still, the thought that you have moved on from him stings even though it’s normal all these years later. He has matured, you both have and he often thinks how things would turn out if you got back together again, right now.
His silence doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you put out your cigarette with the sole of your shoe and turn to fully face him.
“Anyways,” You sigh, “I was going to leave soon,”
“Oh,” Joost takes one last puff of smoke before also putting out the cigarette on the ground, then he looks at you again. “Ja, I should probably head back inside too,” He says but none of you make a move that indicates you’re leaving.
You don’t want to say goodbye and possibly never see him again, knowing that once he’s gone you’ll sink back into the misery of your life. He’s currently the only person you feel comfortable talking to and you don’t want to lose that feeling just yet.
You say, “Joost?” Your voice soft and quiet.
“What?” He gives you a sweet smile.
“Do you want to… come to my place?” You’re reluctant in your words, trying not to make them sound suggestive because really, they aren’t.
“Sure,” He smiles, not having to think about it for long which leaves you satisfied. “I’ll just call Appie to let him know,” He adds, pulling out his phone.
You wait for him to end the call as Joost raises his voice ever so slightly, presumably because the music from the bar is too loud for Apson to hear. Your Dutch isn’t the best but you manage to make out most of what Joost is saying, catching your name in between sentences. You hear Apson yell something on the other line which makes Joost giggle and mumble shut up as you give him a weird look.
He hangs up the phone, “Should we go?” He asks, you nod as you walk with him to a taxi down the road and usher him inside.
The ride is quite long, given the inevitable city traffic as you pass by more tall buildings that are sparkling with light. You’re sitting next to Joost in the backseat as your shoulders lightly bump into one another every time the driver makes an abrupt turn. Joost whispers little jokes to you every now and then, making you laugh with his humor that has not changed one bit. It fills your heart with warmth, reminds you of the old times. You keep glancing at him as he looks out the window and the lights illuminate his face beautifully, bringing out the beauty mark under his lips or how blue his eyes really are. He catches you staring a few times, smiling to himself at your poor attempt to hide it and the pattern repeats itself until you reach your apartment complex.
Joost thanks the driver, quickly closing the car door behind him to catch up with you as you’re already at the old-looking entrance door of the building, unlocking it.
“Quick, quick!” You giggle as he jogs to you in his usual silly manner and you let him in.
You take the elevator and on the way up you lightly hold his hand, bringing it closer to see the tattoos on his knuckles.
He chuckles to himself, “You like them?”
“Mhm,” You nod, letting your thumb lightly graze his digits. Your eyes return to his, he’s much closer now and you feel your heart beating faster than ever with the way he looks down at you, a subtle smile on his lips.
Your faces get closer and closer as you let his hand fall from yours, forgetting all about his tattoo, then ding.
The elevator door opens, revealing the narrow dimly lit hallway your apartment is in and just like that, the moment ends as you both step back from each other and out of the elevator.
You hurry to the end of the cold hallway and unlock the door to your place, ushering Joost inside.
The lights reflecting off of the surrounding buildings come through the big windows of your apartment, illuminating the room with a faint brightness. The space is relatively small and simply decorated, the only luxurious thing about it being the view of the city.
“Do you want anything to drink?” You ask, already making your way into the kitchen. “There’s wine and tequila,” you say loudly.
“Tequila,” Joost responds quickly, taking off his puffy jacket and leaving it on the coat rack next to the door.
By the time you’re back to the living room, Joost is sat comfortably on the big couch and you notice he’s turned on the lamp next to him which now casts a warm yellow light in the room.
You hand Joost his shot placing the half empty tequila bottle on the table, then sit down next to him, maybe in closer proximity than truly needed.
“Cheers!” He grins as you both down the shots, the feeling of the hard liquor going down your throat momentarily giving you goosebumps. Joost drinks it like it’s water before slamming the glass on the table, a sight that makes you laugh in surprise as you remember how easily he used to get drunk when you first met him.
“I needed this,” You sigh, your words implying how shitty your night — or life in general — has been.
Joost narrows his eyes at you; he had already sensed that you’re not well from your previous implications but now he has to ask. Even after everything he still worries the same amount, hates seeing you unhappy.
“You okay?” You turn to look at him, smiling at his question. You can’t even remember the last time someone asked you that.
“Yeah,” You nod repeatedly in an attempt to convince Joost, not wanting to ruin his night with your seemingly unimportant problems but he sees right through you, his face making it clear he doesn’t believe you. “Or no,” you laugh to loosen the tension, covering your face with your hand in disappointment.
“What’s wrong?” Joost asks calmly while he caresses the small of your back.
“I don’t know, it’s just…” you mumble, “Sometimes I get the idea that I made the wrong choice returning here,”
You’re looking away from him, not used to oversharing like this. Usually, you would have stopped at the first sentence but the drinks from the club paired with the shot you just had, make it harder for you to shy away from sharing your feelings.
“Like what if I’m not good enough at this? Maybe this life isn’t for me after all,” Your voice becomes strained as you fight back tears, this being the first time you express your fears out loud.
“That’s not true,” Joost raises his voice ever so slightly, “You’re great with fashion, you’ve always been great. You even picked my outfits for me sometimes, remember?” He chuckles at his last words, the shared memory making you both giggle as you finally face him again.
Your eyes linger in his and you get the urge to kiss him, realizing that you may want this night to end differently.
He stands up straight in front of you and says, “Here,” smiling widely as you look up at him confused, “Judge my outfit,”
“Judge your outfit?” You repeat his words to him and laugh. Joost nods as he turns around, letting you see the full outfit and posing in between. You’re clearly amused, letting small chuckles slip from your lips every now and then, watching as Joost shows off his clothes one by one.
Your eyes can’t help but fall to his belt as he plays with it, the metallic letters that read Albino glowing in the darkness of the corner he’s standing at. Your body feels warmer at that as a sinister thought flashes through your mind which you quickly shake off.
“Models aren’t allowed to touch their clothes, you know?” You point out sarcastically, mimicking the tone that your boss usually had when she talked to the models.
“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” He says in a half serious tone as you nod.
“So?” He asks, you’re assuming he’s waiting for you to judge his choice of clothing as you sit up straighter on the couch.
“Well…” You take a coy expression, holding back the smile on your lips, “It could use some changes, with my help,”
“You think?” Joost takes a look at his outfit, not directly understanding the true motivation behind your words. “Like what?”
“Come closer and I’ll show you,” Joost pauses for a second, a smirk grows on his lips as he starts to catch on to what exactly it is that you’re suggesting. He takes a few steps forward, so close to you that your face is practically aligned with his belt as you suck in a deep breath. You don’t really know where you’re going with this but the alcohol in your system doesn’t let you think of your choices thoroughly right now, instead you’re overcome with need, the desire to touch Joost in any way possible.
“I’m all ears,” He says, his voice low and raspy.
You bite back a smile, tugging on the soft material of his t-shirt. “This needs to go,” You say, masking your lust with an innocent voice.
“Do you want to style me or undress me?” Joost raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused by your intentions.
“I need a clear canvas to work,” You respond coyly and once again pull on his shirt, coaxing him to take it off.
“Fair enough,” Joost pulls the shirt over his head, revealing the blonde hairs on his happy trail. His pants are hanging low on his stomach, making the waistband of his underwear stick out all the more, the letters supreme on it and you shamelessly take in the image of his bare chest.
Joost soon brings his hand to your chin, lifting your head up so that you can see his face clearly. Your body is practically aching with need by now, imagining how his fingers would feel in other parts of your body.
He silently leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You’re initially taken by surprise as it takes a few seconds for you to part your lips before you finally get to feel him against your tongue. He tastes like cigarettes and liquor but you don’t mind, it only serves as a reminder that this is actually happening.
Joost lowers his body, resting one knee on the couch to balance himself as he pushes you back into the big pillows. His lips wander off to your neck, peppering small kisses on it which later turn into gentle bites that are sure to leave marks on your skin.
“Do you like that?” He asks, noticing the small whimpers that escape your mouth. You hum in agreement, feeling yourself grow more wet under his continuous touch.
“It’s been so long,” He mutters in between more kisses distributed evenly across your neck and jaw. You wonder if he has missed this as much as you have, whether he has also been thinking of you every now and then, searching for you in every girl he has met since you left.
At this point you’re eager, unable to keep your composure any longer. You pull him away slightly, ignoring the confused expression on his face as you quickly shove him back against the couch, switching roles with him.
Your knees fall to the wooden floor, you bring both hands to his knees, looking up at him then towards his belt.
“Your pants are next,” You say, in reference to your previous conversation. Joost chuckles, mumbling some curse under his breath, he’s flustered and it’s because of you. He unbuckles his belt impatiently, shifting slightly to pull his pants down as you do the rest for him, tugging on the rough material of his pants to fully take them off.
His legs are also littered with tattoos, similarly to his arms and your fingers instinctively trail up his thigh until they reach his underwear. You can see the outline of his hardened cock as you gently press your palm on top of it, earning a stifled groan from him.
“These can stay on,” You decide to tease him, Joost laughs at that.
“Fuck off,” He says, earning a smile from you.
Gladly, you think to yourself as your fingers play with the elastic waistband of his boxers.
Your eyes shift to his face briefly, quietly asking for his consent to which he nods at. With a final pull, his cock springs free from his boxers, reminding you of its big size. The tip is leaky with precum as you lick it, making Joost hiss at the sensation.
You take him in your mouth eagerly until the tip reaches the back of your throat, causing you to wince ever so slightly.
“Easy there,” Joost coos, pushing your hair out of the way for you and keeps it in a gentle grip as you skillfully begin to suck his cock. The way your mouth stretches around him coaxes a mixture of groans and curses to fall from his lips, his hold on your hair tightening. He looks down at you, still in your fancy little dress and on your knees for him, the sight turning him on all the more.
The fact that you’ve gotten so good at this makes him think of all the men you’ve probably been with after him and he can’t help but feel a little jealous at that.
“Like that,” His voice is breathy as he mumbles different kinds of praises to you, sending a rush of heat through your core. He starts guiding your head with gentle force, careful not to hurt you, slowly pushing his cock until it nudges the back of your throat . Your face feels hot and despite Joost’s gentleness, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, most definitely smudging your mascara and the dark eyeshadow on your eyelid.
Joost is close but he doesn’t want to come just yet, opting to come inside of you later. He pulls your head back slightly, drawing his cock out of your mouth with one last breathy moan.
You’re breathing heavily as you lock eyes with him, your lips swollen and eyes glossy with tears. He caresses your cheek with his big tattooed fingers, a soft smile lingering on his lips.
“You wanna get undressed too, baby?” He says in a low tone.
“Sure,” You mumble softly, getting up from your knees that are red from how long you’ve been sitting on the floor.
You take off your black boots that end just below your knees, uncovering the rest of your black patterned tights. Your fingers impatiently reach for the zipper to the back, fumbling with it until you finally loosen the silk dress you’re wearing, letting it fall to the floor as you stay in nothing but your black lingerie adorned with tiny bows here and there. Joost’s eyes linger on your body and he swears this is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, noticing how beautifully your body has grown over the years and how confidently you stand in front him now, more like a woman and less like a girl.
You can sense his infatuation with you with the way he’s looking up at you and it only fuels your ego, a sudden cockiness coming through you.
“Are you just gonna stare?” You taunt him, Joost smiles at that.
“As if you don’t enjoy it,” He says, you assume he’s right.
He reaches his hands out to your hips, pushing you closer in between his legs as you place your arms loosely around his neck. He massages the area of your ass, though the material of your tights is in the way, preventing him from fully feeling your skin against his palms.
“Let’s take these off, shall we?” You smile in agreement and give him a small nod as he begins to lower your tights inch by inch, exposing the soft skin of your legs. Once they’re off, he presses wet open-mouthed kisses on your thighs, making your pussy clench around nothing but solely the idea of his mouth in between your folds, tasting you with his tongue as it swirls around inside of you.
The momentary fantasy draws loud sighs from your lips, correspondingly to the kisses Joost places on your skin. He notices, unable to hide the cocky smile on his lips as he starts moving higher, towards your stomach.
“Your bra,” he mutters, continuing his work on your body, “Take it off,”
You do as he says, trembling fingers rushing to unhook your bra, all the while Joost keeps on kissing your stomach that is rising up and down from your intense breaths. You pull your bra off, tossing it to the floor where the rest of your clothes are as Joost stares at your breasts, your nipples hardened as a result of his previous touch on your skin.
“You’re beautiful,” His small compliment sends a warmth to your face, a sweet smile forming on your lips and you can’t help but caress the sides of his face with your thumb.
You place one knee on the surface of the couch as you come face to face with Joost, giving him better access to the upper half of your body. Now that you’re this close to him, you notice the small stain that your red lipstick left on his lips earlier, letting out a small laugh at that.
He smiles, kissing you deeply on the mouth, jaw, collarbones, then finally your breasts. The tingling of his tongue on your nipples makes you moan quietly as he takes one of your tits in his mouth, sucking on the sensitive skin.
The inside of your thighs is practically burning with anticipation now as more moans fall from your lips. “Joost please,” You breathe out in desperation as he hums against your boobs, “I can’t wait any longer,”
“I get it baby,” Joost withdraws from your chest, places a peck near your lips then nods to his side, “Come on, lie down,”
You lie down on your bare back, resting your head against one of the pillows to get a better view of your body. Joost turns to you, his hands slowly sliding up your stomach as he gazes down at your naked body, the only thing covering it being your panties.
“Alright, you ready?” He asks, his voice soft.
“You make it sound as if I’m being drafted into the military,” You say, causing him to giggle.
“Just asking,” He slightly puts his hands up in the air, “It’s been a while,” He says ever so softly as you both share a smile, silently expressing how much you want this. To anyone else, it would just look like a casual hook up but to you it’s so much more than that, layered with feelings and memories.
“Okay, you have my consent,” You say slowly, your voice close to a whisper. He nods satisfied, planting one last quick kiss on your lips before his fingers find the waistband of your black lace panties. His cock is hard, falling on your inner thigh, an image that only adds to the heat you’re experiencing.
You lift your ass, only a little so that Joost can slip your panties off of your legs, not bothering to tease you much about it. The air of the room feels cold against your wet pussy, causing it to twitch as Joost mumbles some curse in Dutch.
“So wet for me,” He coos as he collects the wetness from your folds with a quick stroke of his tip, making you gasp, your thighs closing at the sudden friction. He props one hand close to your face for balance and lines his cock with your entrance before starting to push into you slowly. The sensation of your walls clenching around him inevitably lets a shared moan fall from your lips as Joost bottoms out, then begins to thrust into you in a controlled manner that makes your head dizzy with pleasure.
“You’re so tight schatje,” The pet name is familiar, yet you still fight back a smile at the sound of it.
You stare up at him in adoration; his bare chest is glistening in sweat, his blonde hair is messy and his lips are slightly parted as soft grunts escape them. He was and is still the most beautiful man to you, despite all the insecurities that linger on his mind.
You notice he’s kind of tired because he’s struggling to stay propped up on his arms above you and you wrap your arms around his back, pulling him down to your chest. His body is heavier against yours but you don’t care, you embrace him while he continues his deep thrusts to your core that gradually become faster.
The way he fucks you is so perfect that it drives you wild. He knows your body so well, knows all the right places to touch as his tip keeps on hitting that one spot inside of you, pushing you closer to your climax.
Joost is close too, burying his head on the crook of your neck as you feel his hot breaths and the vibrations of his groans on your skin.
Your fingers dig into the sticky flesh of his shoulders, your breaths are shallow and you can’t suppress your loud moans given the frantic pace at which Joost is now slamming his shaft into you.
You try to tell him but it seems like the only words you can utter right now are continuous curses in between your uncontrollable whimpers.
“I’m- fuck,” Joost breathes, “I’m coming baby, I promise,”
Before you can respond in any way, you’re driven over the edge. Your vision becomes blurry, the only things you can hear are your embarrassingly loud moans and Joost’s own groans as you come on his cock.
Joost follows shortly after your orgasm, his warm release spilling inside of you while he sloppily fucks every part of you.
“Fuck,” He exhales and collapses on top of you. Your fingers graze his back, trying to soothe the red marks that your fingernails left on him earlier. Joost places his arm around your waist as you both let your deep breaths fill the silence of the room.
You stay like this for a minute or so, then he carefully pulls out of you as you hiss slightly at the feeling.
-
You’re the last one to take a shower and as you come back to your bedroom, you see Joost lying comfortably between the pillows and your stuffed animals, an image you wish you could see everyday. You climb atop the bed, also lying down as you cuddle him without hesitation and he’s quick to wrap an arm around you as well.
“When are you leaving New York?” You ask, hoping for the answer to be never, despite how unrealistic that sounds.
“In two days,” You nod against his chest but really, you want to break out into tears at the simple thought of losing him again and so soon.
You feel him take a deep breath, “Joost?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hm?”
“Can we spend the day together, tomorrow?”
He smiles even though you can’t see him, a bittersweet smile at that. He feels the same way as you, dreading the moment he’ll have to leave you, wanting to make up for the lost time. “Of course, liefste. Where do you wanna go?”
“I don’t know,” You mumble, “Oh! Maybe I’ll take you to my favorite restaurant, it’s not too far from here,”
“Okay, that sounds perfect,” His hands caress your hair and he leans down to place a reassuring peck on the top of your head.
You wish this moment would never end. If you could, you’d move with him back to the Netherlands tomorrow and start over, do everything right this time. But for now, all you can do is hold him tighter, make every moment count until he leaves. And then who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be together again.
───────────────────────
thank you for reading !! <3
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gyuswhore · 7 months ago
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Never Shall We Die (3; final)
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«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »» 
PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader
PLAYLIST: right here!
pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)
SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.
GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk
WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k
Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k
@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman
masterlist
WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out
[AN]: final part oh my god if youve read the other parts up till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it, im really proud of this fic and im so happy so many of you have enjoyed it so far. @highvern betaing as always ty for not giving up on me. AS ALWAYS, PLS TELL ME YOUR THOTS IN THE RBS OR THE REPLIES OR SEND ME AN ASK LITERALLY WTV MUAH MUAH HAPPY READING <3
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THIS IS THE NICEST PRISON Hoshi has ever been in, which was saying something, because he had been in quite a lot of prisons. 
But it was uncomfortable nonetheless, six grown men tied up and shoved into a crouching space to be done with as the men that prowled above pleased. 
Hoshi would be lying if he said he hadn’t had to restrain from pushing some of those sorry soldiers into the ice waters beyond the glaciers. He had resisted, the crew had resisted, but just enough to convince them of their unwillingness. 
Hoshi had realised early on that there was no possible way of getting aboard Tigress without somehow climbing aboard the King’s boat first. The king wasn’t about to simply hand Hoshi’s ship over, and there was no indication that they'd wait till after nightfall to depart. 
Hoshi also knew that the King would refuse to have him die so easily in the waters of the Green Islands, his pride depended on it. He imagines the man drawing up the specifics of the most gruesome execution the Kingdom would ever see. Hoshi was counting on it. 
The bounds could’ve been broken out of and the locks somehow picked, but Hoshi also knew that he had to wait. Wait for you to find him first. 
“What’s taking her so long?” Jun asks. He’d been the most anxious out of all, the shaking feet and restless moving making it clear. 
“The bomb won’t…go off still strapped to her, will it?” Minghao asks and Hoshi isn’t quite sure he wants to know the answer. 
“It shouldn’t. Not until she pulls the tab. But…”
“But?” Hoshi whips around. “Why is there a but? You were supposed to make sure there was no but!”
“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!” 
“Are you sure we can’t break out and look for her ourselves?” Mingyu grumbles, the most compromised with his longer limbs folded in uncomfortable positions.
“The minute they know we’re loose they’ll swarm her. There won’t be a way to get to her, not without fighting off every last bastard on this ship. They’ve taken our stuff too, we don’t stand a chance.”
They did, actually, stand a chance. But that was only if they were to break away and head straight for Tigress that was empty and standing right beside this very ship. But they couldn’t. Hoshi couldn’t. Not without taking you with him. 
Nobody dares to suggest the easier route, and he doubts it’s just because of what he wants. 
But panic was beginning to trickle into Hoshi’s veins anyway, the closed off brig refusing to give him any indication of the time of day. 
The sun was only beginning to set when they were taken to the ship, and he knew they were near done for if they didn’t finish what they started before nightfall. He can’t tell how long it’s been, and it eats away at his insides. 
Please be okay. 
And then he hears it, the sound of a body hitting the floors with a loud thud, a chortle of air before it’s knocked out. He finds himself sitting up straighter, pressing his hands to bars of the prison, trying to peer out the narrow walkway that leads to the doors. 
And then you appear in the lamplight, haphazard and ruffled up beyond measure. 
The knife in your hand drips with blood, your shirt torn at the arms, your hands bloodied and bruised. 
When Hoshi sees your face he almost doesn’t recognise you. 
There’s angry blooming marks of red and purple all across your neck and collarbone, your eyes bloodshot and red, watering like you’d been swimming in salt water. 
“Who did this?” he asks before anything else, watching you drop to your knees in front of the prison, unanswering as you fumbled with a giant ring of keys in your hand. 
You jam each key into the lock, twisting it to no avail. Your hands are shaking. 
The crew finally twist out of their loose bonds, Minghao lurching forward immediately, swatting your hands away. He picks out a few skinny pins from his boot, picking the rusty lock. Despite the strange angle, the bars creak open within seconds. 
“There’s…There’s ropes hooked onto the ship on the main deck.” 
Your voice sounds like you’re speaking through sandpaper, talking while struggling to emerge with the bomb you had. 
Hoshi doesn’t know what to do when he crawls out of the space. 
He’d had it all figured out in his head, what would happen in every possible outcome. You getting hurt wasn’t in any of his universal conclusions; especially not on this ship. They’d kill his crew, they might even kill the King with themselves, but you were meant to remain unscathed. 
“Why–why do you look like that? What happened?” Nothing registers in his head, not even when Jun is pushing him out into the hall. 
“Get up to the deck and get out across the lines!” Jun gruffs in his ears. “That bomb’s gonna go off with us still on here.”
He sees the canister that lies in the same prison they had just exited, he sees your mouth moving without sound. All he can think of are the distinct fingerprints around your throat and how it looked like somebody tried to kill you before they tried to kill him. 
“Soonyoung,” he hears you say in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for him to snap out of it. 
His crew is looking at him expectantly. He looks back at the door and sees the crumpled bodies of the prison guards. 
So much for leaving quietly. 
The minute Hoshi is out the door of the brig, he finds a chest next to the collapsed, bleeding soldiers. Kicking it open, he can only scoff as he finds the entire crew’s weapons in such close vicinity. 
He feels better with his dagger at his hip, along with the rest of his knives that he slips into the loops. Even more so with the rest of his crew armed and ready. 
“We know where the deck is.” He swallows, eyeing his crew’s weapons in their ready hands. He knew they’d agreed to ensure the clean sinking of the ship, but the fallen bodies on the floor were an ode to a different route they’d have to take. “Don’t hesitate if someone gets in your way.”
Taking cautious steps to the upper decks, he finds more bodies collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and unconscious. He opts to ask you the details later, wondering how you were able to take down all these guards by yourself. 
It isn’t until they reach the stairs that lead to the main deck that he comes across a guard. 
Before the witness can raise any alarm, Hoshi’s slamming the butt of his dagger into the side of his head, knocking him clean unconscious as he falls off the side of the short railing. 
Clambering up the steps as quietly as possible, he raises a hand behind him to signal his crew to halt, peering into the main deck first. 
The sun is still out, but low in the sky as it dips in the sky. There’s a few people on the deck, pacing and moving about in preparation for departure. Angling his gaze, he finds ropes suspended over the edge of the railing, parallel to the water. 
He can’t see Tigress, but he knows that’s what the ropes are hooked on to. 
“Jun,” he beckons. “How long till the bomb on the other ship goes off?”
The bomb Jun had planted in the first ship they had arrived in should be going off any time now, and Hoshi finds himself needing it to go off now. 
Jun barely opened his mouth to reply when the ship shuddered. 
For a moment, Hoshi thinks the bomb in the brigs had gone off, but when he finds the clambering of boots to one side of the ship, opposite to where the ropes tied to Tigress, he realises their surrogate ship had given its last gift to the crew. 
The rest of the ship would be bounding to the main deck to inspect the noise soon, so he shoots a quick, “Hurry!” behind him before stepping onto the main deck. 
The entire deck is occupied with the ship that lies a ways away across the expanse of sea, the beginnings that would soon lead the entire ship to be engulfed in flames. It’s tilting at a dangerous angle. 
Hoshi stands as he uses the crew straight towards the ropes that lead to Tigress. Glancing, he finds Mingyu and Chan already hanging on the suspended ropes, making their way towards the empty deck of their ship. 
Hoshi keeps his eyes on the occupied men on board, still staring at the lightshow that was their old ship. It isn’t until one of them turns, eyes towards the stairs that lead to the lower decks, that his eyes dart to the unfamiliar men on the deck. 
“Fuck,” Hoshi curses, before lunging, grabbing the man by the shoulders and covering his mouth, dragging him wordlessly to the edge before throwing him off the ship and into the icy waters below. 
“Go!” he hears you rasp brom behind him, ushering him to the ropes. 
The crew is gone, Jun making the last jump to land on the deck. They’re running around, pulling ropes and fastening the sails to push the ship off into open waters as soon as possible. 
There’s two ropes that tie the two ships together, and Hoshi ushers you onto one of them, pushing you to suspend yourself before he follows. 
“There’s not enough time, go to the other one!” you tell him, pushing him to hold onto the other tattered rope. 
Soonyoung eyes your state, “Are you sure you can—”
“Yes! I promise I can, please, before they cut both the ropes.”
So he trusts you, eyes straight ahead to the railing of his ship, gripping the rough, frayed rope to push himself towards the deck. His hands burn, but he finds himself moving ever closer to his final destination. 
His hand grabs hold of the wooden railing of his Tigress at long last, pulling himself onto the deck of his beloved ship. Immediately whipping his head to his right, he tries to find you reaching the ship with him. The crew is preoccupied in attempting to get the ship ready for departure, he finds your form nowhere. 
When he looks back, the rope he had climbed was gone, leaving gaping space in its absence. He trails the second rope, from the hook that had dug into the railing of Tigress’s wood, trailing it to the naval ship’s deck. 
What he sees puts his heart in his throat. 
You stand on the deck of your father’s ship, swarmed by now alert guards and soldiers who swarm you, yelling profanities and orders as they watch their prisoners get away right in front of them. 
Hoshi watches as you lift your dagger, and cut the last rope that ties you together, free to fall and hit against the hull of his ship.
He calls out your name in what could only be described as a guttural scream. 
His crew halts whatever it was they were doing, taking the steps to realise what had just happened. 
Hoshi’s boot meets the top of the railing, ready to take the plunge into the water. He’d climb back up the ship and get you out. He doesn’t know what you were thinking, what he was thinking when he left you there, but he’d get you out. 
Arms pulling him, he’s yanked back and positively thrown onto the deck.
“What is wrong with you?” Minghao yells, pushing his captain back as he springs up. 
“She—”
Your father emerges from the crowd of guards and soldiers that run rampant on the deck, approaching you at the railing of the main deck. 
Hoshi sees the hand that remains on his shoulder, the blood that covers the still bleeding wound, the effort it takes him to simply walk. 
The bruises on your neck, the wound at his shoulder that looks like it was slashed through by a knife. 
And then it clicks in Hoshi’s head, what had truly happened in the hours that you were out of his sight. And all he sees is red.
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WITH THE WAY THE words on the pages seem to double, you would’ve thought you were going mad. 
You’re a child, barely grown into your own body as you sit in the dimly lit library of the palace, utterly exhausted, wishing to be anywhere but sitting at the wooden desk with your name on it. The moon barely shone through the window, your only source of light the fireplace that burned in the corner and your lamplight. 
It was a time where you felt like you could prove yourself, that perhaps, the reason your father refused you his approval was because you were simply not working hard enough. And now, at an hour where you should be fast asleep in your four poster bed, you attempt to understand diplomatic structures and everything that made your country what it was. 
It was late, and there was nothing you would’ve liked more than to put your head on the table and rest your eyes for a few tantalising seconds, which you do, right over the book you were reading. 
You awoke in the same place, shaken awake by a panicked looking servant, the sun shining through the great windows of the palace library.
It seems your disappearance from your bedchambers had put the entire palace in disarray, not realising the princess was fast asleep behind the giant pile of books other servants had already skimmed past thrice. 
Not only were you unable to recite the rankings of the constitutions with the vigour your father required, but you were unable to give him a reason as to why you were absent for both breakfast and morning lessons. 
He made the servants kneel in the throne room for hours, and did not fail to tell you that it was all your fault.
And now, in the ice cold of the Green Islands, old and wise enough to know that your father simply needed a reason to despise his heir, you accept the hands around your throat as his final act of terror. 
Red faced and arms shaking, your father does not speak to you as he presses down on your windpipe with all his might. Your vision is going dark and splotchy, and you decide, for a moment, to let him have this moment. 
He’s too preoccupied in applying his pressure to realise that you’ve raised your right foot enough for your hands to fish out your knife from its place, taking positivity in the handle of your knife that fits in your hand. 
Before you can lose consciousness, you raise your arm high, and plunge it directly into his neck. 
Howling, he releases you from his hold, both of you dropping to the floor of the ship with a resonating thud. You cough, sputter and hack, cold hands finding your now warm neck. 
Your father lays clutching his shoulder as he remains in agony on the floor, and you realise you missed the crucial plunge in your own disarray. 
It was good enough, rendering the old man incapable of finding his bearings. 
You watch as he writhes on the floor of the quarters that almost became your figurative deathbed, the same hands that wrapped around his own daughter’s throat now clutching the shallow wound that renders him useless. 
Standing over him, throwing your own shadow on his body, you feel a surge of power, a rush of adrenaline that shoots straight to your head. Perhaps this was your circulation returning from the deprivation, but you let the feeling imprint in your soul, let your father’s broken figure bring you satisfaction.
You leave him there, writhing in pain, digging your knife under the lock of the quarters, pulling back to break it away from the door. The guards stationed outside do nothing as you leave, and it isn’t until you’ve taken to lower decks that you hear the distinct yell of, “Your Majesty!”
Two more guards, who don’t expect an altercation from their princess, simply buffer as you send your knife plunging into them both. You do it deep this time. 
Nobody was innocent, you knew these people as your father’s closest men, and knew that all of them were to remain silent as their King murdered his daughter. And when the remorse doesn’t do that thing where it trickles in after doing a bad thing, you decide you weren’t part of the innocents either.
It’s easier than you would’ve expected to get to the crew in the brig, letting out a sigh of relief as you appreciate the familiarity of people on your side. 
And when Hoshi took his place to guide everyone out and into the open space of the main deck, you let your racing mind rest and decide to trust the man in whatever decision he made to lead you all out. And he did, he led himself and his crew right into the ship that was theirs, safe and where they would have the upper hand. 
Hoshi didn’t know it when he climbed onto the ropes that lead to his boat that he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stayed, hadn’t used your voice of authority to keep the soldiers from attempting to shoot at the escapees, cut the rope while Hoshi remained suspended from it, still only halfway there. 
You didn’t look at him when you sliced both ropes before either party could pull back, didn’t register him screaming your name across the void, pretending it wasn’t taking everything out of your strength.
But you couldn’t jump into the water, not now when a dozen of the royal guards remained ready to take the plunge to save their princess as their duty. The same guards that would comply with their king when told the princess was dead for reasons they all knew but were to forget. 
The bomb had to go off first, and you had to keep them away from hooking another line to the ship in the meantime. You were operating on a flawed plan and an overenthusiastic crowd of guards that were moments away from shooting a canon straight into the side of the disconnected pirate ship.  
The distraction comes in the form of your father parting the crowd of soldiers like the red sea, swatting every soldier that attempts to help his bleeding form for anything it was worth. He approaches you at the railing, and for once, you don’t look at the ground in his presence. 
“Bold,” he heaves, the effort in his voice apparent. “Bold of you to think you could slip away.”
“I haven’t tried to slip away, father,” you correct. “I’ve stayed right here, even after you failed to kill me. And I, you.” 
“Nobody is going to listen to you, child. Give in. This is the easy way out,” he says. 
As if on cue, Jun’s bomb goes off for the second time, but this time the ship shudders with more force. It has your father unbalance and fall, along with multiple other soldier’s stumbling. You grip the railing tight, counting on your father’s need to live. 
Despite your horrid throat and the ache in your body, you announce as loud as you can. “The bomb is in the brig, this ship is sinking.”
The fallen king trembles in a rage you had never quite seen before. Any other time of your life, you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole to be the subject of such anger. 
Except, in the setting sun, a burning ship in the background, a pirate ship that awaits you, and the ground beneath your feet that was actively sinking into the freezing water; you smile at your doomed King. 
“Get to the brig! Secure the lower decks, do not let this ship sink or so help me God!” His voice rings across the deck, spittle blowing from his mouth at the situation. 
And just like that, your father gives you the final gift of clearing the main deck out for you, leaving but a few straggling soldiers that are too preoccupied with either the sinking ship or their bleeding sovereign. 
Looking back, you find the crew of Tigress standing at the railing, you find Hoshi already half over the edge and send him a slow nod. 
Turning back to your father that remains on the floor of the ship that would become his coffin, you utter your next words; for yourself, and the girl that was every second before this, all the way to her first ever memory of sad:
“You’ve taught me to be a ruler fit to be the best for our Kingdom. Consider your death my first act of service for the Crown.”
And then you jumped into the darkening void of the waters below. 
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THE COLD FEELS LIKE every nerve in your body ceased to work. 
It was nothing at first, the temperature so intense it had your body numb in the face of shock. And then it grew, to a striking cold, and then a feeling that pricked every inch of your skin like a million needles plunging into your body. It was only getting worse with each passing second, before it was so painful it was hot, going from cold to searing and blistering like you’d plunged into the licks of flames. 
Nowhere in your body did you find a rational sense of mind, something to tell you to kick, flail or float. The warped sky was an orange through the green, only more vibrant. Like there were two ships actively burning on the surface of this water. 
Hoshi’s face appears behind your closing eyelids, like a mirage or a taunt. Like he was there with you when he wasn’t. 
Would he come for you? Would he take the plunge for the girl he held in his arms, promising her something to fill the gap of a companion, right before she killed her own? 
You’d given him what he wanted; your father, his worst enemy, dying as he sank slowly into the bottom of the ocean. You’d run your course of use, and if he was as smart as people claimed, he’d leave you to suffer the same fate as your father. 
He could find his freedom elsewhere. 
And you would find your freedom in the close of your eyes, and the sinking feeling of nothingness. 
Except, you feel a hardness against your body, stronger even than the current of the waters. Moving impossibly upwards, you remember opening your eyes to find a leather cord suspended in the float of the water, before you remember nothing. 
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THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.  
But as unnatural as it seemed, Hoshi had no inclination to register anything but the way the ship in front of him tilts so far out it's already half submerged in the waters. He’d assumed they might have to ready the cannons, but with the way debris and hollowed wood floats in the waters below, they would not need to. 
The King was about to be introduced to Davy Jones’ Locker at the hands of his enemy and successor, but Hoshi could not care enough right now to relish in it. 
Right now, he stares at the direct circumference of water your body had made contact with and disappeared into, like the world would explode if he lost his place. 
“Should I jump as well?” Mingyu asks, already half taking his boots off. However, when the man turns to find his captain gone, he lurches over the railing to find his captain diving into the water through all the debris.
Hoshi lets the momentum of his dive take him as further down as possible, whipping his head around as soon as his eyes open into the abyss. The water ripples and erupts in showers of bubbles as broken pieces of ship come apart to fall into the water. It blurs his vision immensely, any ripple that could be you in the water coming out to be yet another piece of wasted wood. 
The deeper he goes, the more the water presses into his ears. He was a good swimmer, good at holding his breath when needed, but even he had limits. 
When he cannot see any sign of you, he begins to feel the churning of something skin to panic brew. Panic was never good, not this deep in the water. 
Twisting and turning, flailing about in place, moving dangerously closer to the burning ship that continued to drop flaming bits of killing slabs, he finds no sign of you in the water. 
Instead, he watches men in uniform sink deeper and deeper in their failed attempts to stay afloat. 
All he can think about is if they were losing the battle for air, then so were you, somewhere deeper in the void than he was. He prays that he’s looking aimlessly, that you’ve already somehow made your way to the surface by yourself, and you were safe on the deck. 
The beaded bracelet that remained on his wrist, but belonged to you. 
“A reason for you to come out of this alive.”
Even without the encasing on his wrist, you had given him more than enough reason to want to come out of this alive, to want to live beyond just for himself and his duty to the crew he’d taken in. 
He chose the life of a pirate because it was his only out, and every member of his crew that he recruited in succession, he acted as the hand he had needed so desperately in that awful brothel where his mother despised him and his father, a faceless man of Port Ash. 
Amphitrite was not kind, it was a lesson he learned quickly in his first ventures out at sea. So he too, had to learn to be unkind, to survive in the horrid bellies of ships that weren’t his own. And when Tigress came into his life like a vessel of hope, he found a home in her merciful wood, in the ship that he could call his very own. 
Hoshi lived as a free man on his ship, with his crew that had become his brothers in ways beyond what the thick of blood could offer. He did not care if he lived or died after that, as long as it was on his ship, in the waters that held no quarter for anyone, but gave him everything that nothing else could give him. 
And so when you approached him with a proposal so bizarre yet so apt for a man like him, he could not refuse. It may have been the way he saw himself in you, terrified of the prospects  but thirsting for an escape more than the fear that came with it. 
Besides, the king was a nuisance that needed to go, and he found himself agreeing to play the hand too complicated for you. 
What he did not expect was to end up here, in the depths of the ocean in the most uninhabitable part of the earth, trying to pull you out of the cold, unrelenting sea. 
Hoshi realises in that moment that this might ruin him, the possibility of breaking the surface without you. 
He decides that if the heavens do not let him find you, he would simply drown in the same waters that gave him purpose, and find peace with the idea that he would lay rest in the same waters as the person who might have given him something more. 
Kwon Soonyoung, the deadliest pirate to cleave the seas, was in love with you. A princess, so undeserving of a man like him; a bastard, a rogue, a good for nothing criminal. 
And when he spots the all too familiar build of your form, the linen shirt under the corset he had tied for you just hours ago, the dark brown trousers that signified the change he’d brought into your life, he swore to leave everything he’d ever known to thank the skies and seas for bringing him to you.
His burning lungs, screaming and searing for air, grabbing for your suspended arm that looked as defeated as your closed eyes. Tugging you towards him, he wraps his arm around you to press you to him as tight as he could. 
Relief. And with the warm sting in his eyes that he doubted was from the salt in the water, he’s sure of everything he’s felt with the feeling of you in his arms. 
With the bruising on your neck, the bleeding wound in your father’s shoulder, he finds it within his breaking body to begin kicking upwards. 
Every limb, every cell, every hint of life in his body shrieked with its efforts to make him stop. There was no air in his lungs and he’d lost track of time in his search for you, he doesn’t know how long he has. 
But if the blots of nothingness in his eyes were anything to go with, he doesn’t presume he has much. In a last ditch effort, he attempts to kick his boots off to weigh him down a little less, holding your dead weight tighter than anything. 
He was so close, he could feel the warmth of the upper levels of the water change in its temperature on his skin. The glow was near blinding as the orange refracted on the disrupted surface of the ocean, so close yet so far. 
Inch by inch, kick by kick, memory by memory, he does everything left in his drained power to touch the surface. 
And he does, breaking out hand first into the burning air of the world above, taking the longest gasp of air he ever has in his life. Once he’s sure he knows where he is, he pushes you up further on his chest, your head resting against his collarbone, still unconscious. 
“Stay with me, princess,” he pants into your ear, hoping you could hear. “I’ve got you.”
Chan and Mingyu are in the water beside him, pushing him towards the pulley that awaited them. 
Mingyu makes an attempt to take your weight of his already struggling captain, but Hoshi finds himself holding on to you tighter, simply urging him to help him back on the deck. 
The minute your head hits the wood of the deck, he’s checking your pulse. There’s no regard for the chaos that ensues around Tigress, both him and his crew too preoccupied with the way you were not breathing. 
“I–I can’t feel anything,” he stutters his words as Seungkwan places a less panicked hand at your neck, under your nose. 
“It’s weak, she’s taken in too much water.”
In an instant, he reaches for his knife at his hip, only to realise it was gone, lost somewhere in his rescue. 
“Knife,” he rasps before repeating louder. “Someone give me a knife!” 
The minute a hilt is in his hands, he’s pushing you over, to reach the back of your constricting corset, pushing his knife into the complicated sailing knot he’d tied it into before, breaking it free. With both hands, he takes hold of the top of the corset and rips it clean in half. 
Turning you back over, he presses his hands over your clothed stomach, pushing into it with all his strength in an attempt to get the water out of your system. He keeps his eyes on your face, and when he sees no sign of you coming round, he feels another set of hands pushing him off. 
Seungkwan takes over for his weakened captain, pushing into your stomach harder, attempting to get a break out of you. 
“Why isn’t she coming around, what’s going on?” He throws the question aimlessly as he takes your unmoving face in his hands, trembling from everything. 
Only a moment later, he hears the glorious sound of you sputtering like something was stuck in your throat, promptly spilling out an ungodly amount of water onto the deck as you retch loudly. 
Sitting up from the force, your hands clamp onto the deck as you cough and heave, Hoshi’s hand coming behind you to thump your back hard, pushing you to throw up any remaining seawater from your body. 
The sight of your back moving up and down, the audible sound of you taking in air; it was enough for Hoshi to simply lay on the deck and pass out. 
You rear your head and look up at him, both of you still breathing heavily. 
“You’re okay,” he assures, gulping. He takes your face in hands cupping it very gently as he speaks to you. “Go with Seungkwan, you’re okay, you’re safe.”
Nodding, you let yourself be helped up by the rest of the crew, watching as you’re led to the lower decks of the ship. 
“Open your shirt, let me see the wound,” Mingyu says, and Hoshi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Looking down, he sees his shirt soaked in red, sticking to a wound on the right side of his torso. He didn’t even know where he got it. 
It looks like a shallow gash, but enough to leave a scar. He takes it better to have it tended to while he was still high on adrenaline and he couldn’t feel much of the pain. 
By the time Mingyu and Minghao are done cleaning him up and Hoshi’s standing upright with wobbly legs, he finds the two burning ships beyond his own mere floating structures of wood that were in slow flame. There’s too much debris, too many bits of everything that bob in the large expanse of water to make out any bodies. 
“There’s nobody,” Mingyu tells him. “Most of them were in lower decks when it all went down. Trapped themselves.”
“And…?” he asks in silence. 
“He stayed on the deck until it sank,” Minghao informs. “Yelling about how he…about how he should’ve finished her when he had the chance.”
“Horrible king and somehow an even worse father,” Mingyu scoffs. “Made it better to watch him die.”
“He didn’t suffer enough,” Hoshi croaks as the marks on your throat dot his vision. 
Just then, floating in the water, illuminated by the final streaks of setting light, Hoshi sees it. A darkened purple cloth right next to the hull.
“That,” he points out. “Get that out of the water.”
The late king’s purple cape laid on the deck of Tigress, darkened with water, but also with his blood.
To the Kingdom, this cape would be the last piece of their King that was gone too soon. But for every person on this ship, it would forever be their spoils of war.
Hoshi makes sure the cape will be dried and stored, ordering his crew to begin their slow journey out of the Green Islands, before he too crumples onto the deck unconscious. 
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IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element. 
Something about how he seemed to beam, like this ship was charging him a different kind of energy. It was infectious, the rest of the ship decreasingly sour as they put on musical performances on the main deck while they cleaned the floors. 
As relieved as you felt, the tight ball of anxiety refused to leave the pit of your stomach as you grew closer to the Kingdom. Nothing could prepare you for the shitstorm you’d have to deal with the moment you’d step onto the soil off a pirate ship of all things—let alone as Queen. 
The first few days following the ship's exit from the Green Islands were difficult, if that was all you had to describe it. You took to your hammock for most of the day, curled up as you pretended to sleep, only waking up when one of the crew would come down to force feed you and to make sure you hadn’t died. 
You knew they were doing all this to make you feel better, and somehow it was working. More than halfway through your journey, you began to feel more like yourself, emerging from your cave to visit the deck on times other than the nights. 
Even now, as you sit on the floor of the deck with Seungkwan, who hands you an all too familiar stack of parchment, you feel nothing as you take them into your hands. As you read his handwriting scrawled in ink, you appreciate your past self for having the sense to keep them all. 
“I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” he says to you. “Had us worried for a while there.”
“Sorry.” You smile weakly. “But thank you for…everything. I don’t think I could ever express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. All of you.”
“I’d like to think we’ve gone past the status of mere business partners,” Seungkwan chuckles. “Lion befriends the bear? Whatever it is. But know we’d do it again.”
Blinking back the sting of tears and doing your very best to not let the warm feeling in your chest overwhelm you, you place the letters on the floor next to your folded legs. When you look up, Seungkwan's eyes are on your neck.
“They’re taking their time to fade, aren’t they?” you say. 
Seungkwan has a hard look in his eye, “I guess you didn’t need your letters to remind you of anything after all.”
Your mind wanders, drifting past how easily this crew could have been forgotten in the unforgiving elements. Perhaps you would have let the man that wrapped his hands around your neck finish his job.
“Was getting captured part of your grand plan?” you ask Seungkwan. 
“Hm?” It takes a moment to realise what you may be questioning him about, smiling slightly. “What makes you think we went in with a plan?”
“I thought I asked you to man the wheel?” Hoshi stands above the both of you.
“Not to batten down the hatches,” he side-eyed his captain. “Clear waters ahead, the wheel does not need manning.” 
You zone out as they squabble over nothing, not finding the heart to be entertained by their back and forth. Seungkwan either loses or forfeits, because you feel him rise from next to you, only for his captain to take his place. 
“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks. 
“Everything,” you sigh. 
“How come Seungkwan gets a thank you for your service and I don’t? Need I remind you who jumped for you and who didn’t?”
Rolling your eyes, you answer him, “Thank you, Captain Hoshi Kwon, I am forever indebted to your service.”
He chuckles in exaggeration, “Oh please, all in a day's work.”
“I mean it.”
“Hm?”
“I never did say thank you. But you did jump for me when you didn’t have to.”
“Who said I didn’t have to?”
“Our deal was done.”
“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Our deal was to get you out when you jumped. I merely honoured that promise!”
“Merely?” you raise a brow. “Was it all merely a matter of conscience?”
His gaze locks with yours. “Don’t ask questions you know the answers for. I would’ve jumped even if you asked me to rope myself to the mast.”
“Please. I have enough blood on my hands and I haven’t even sat on my throne yet.”
“Blood is only on your hands if you tell a soul of what you’ve done,” Hoshi utters. “You’re the only living soul who knows.”
“And you are…?”
“Pirate. Our word means nothing.” Hoshi smiles. 
The thought hangs in the air as you take in the man in front of you. He’s changed an era’s worth, yet all the same. His hair is longer, going from his initial shorter crop to curling around his ears, shielding his eyes. It makes him look younger, like a boy with much to live for. 
That, and the multitude of notable scars he’s added to his collection, many of which have somehow been because of you. The wound at his torso is doing better, but far to go in its quest to heal. 
Hoshi senses something amiss even after his sermon. Breaking his gaze, he turns to look straight ahead at the raised bow of the ship instead. 
“Do you know how I got my splendid reputation for being the filthiest pirate on the seas?”
You can only stare, “I have a few guesses.”
He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”
“Tell me.”
“Unnamed sailors have the odds of a peanut facing its inevitable fate of being crushed under a straggling boot. Pirates don’t see the government as their enemy when they’re own supposed brothers are more likely to jam a cannon in their mouths.”
He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “My mistake wasn’t that I was on the losing side in my early days, but more about how I was leaving nothing behind when I was done.”
“How humble,” you hum. 
“Dead men tell no tales. When it’s worth it, it might be better to leave a straggler or two to live to tell the tale. A routine stab in the jugular can turn you into somewhat of a myth.”
“Am I a survivor?” you question. 
“You may be sovereign on land, but you’re also an unnamed pirate,” he responds, turning back to lock eyes with you. “And you’ve left nobody to tell the tale.”
No one listens to a pirate, and everyone listens to a Queen. 
“This isn’t to say there won’t be a legend that follows you.” He quirks a brow as he speaks. “Shows up and claims her father and his entire ship and crew sank at sea, only to befriend his sworn enemies in the aftermath. And then it evolves; she sent a cannon through her fathers ship, he died at the end of his own daughter's sword, she cursed him to captain a crew of the undead for eternity.”
“Have I planted the seeds for yet another ghost story?” It’s difficult to not giggle at the thought, despite how morbid. 
“You’ve given yourself substance,” he says, a little stronger than before. His eyes too, wander to your neck and the bruises that refuse to budge. “Beyond just a royal or even a pirate. You did it for your honour as a human being, and that may be braver than anything I have ever conquered.”
In your anxiety ridden, feeble mind, your thoughts had convinced your conscience that everything would be over the minute your father’s heart stopped beating. That it would bring you peace at last. 
And it did, especially when it felt like you’d gotten rid of this constant monster under the bed that had followed you far into adulthood. But from the bleeding heart of the creature emerged yet another one of its brethren, and then another and then another. 
Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless. 
Weeks of this, and in one short interaction, Hoshi seemed to have given you the key to turn this monster into a pet. 
On instinct, you feel your hand reach up, brushing against the skin of his cheek. It’s an all too familiar setting, seated on the deck of a ship too close for anybody but yours’ comfort. But without the rum and resentment, of course. And how you doubt he’d pull away this time. 
Very lightly, you brush your lips against his. It was nothing but to simply feel him again, to feel a semblance of familiarity. 
You feel him take your hand that rests on his cheek to place a kiss on your palm, nuzzling his nose into the concave of your hand. 
Everything that was to come seemed a little more possible in that very moment. 
Even more so when his fingers found the sensitive areas of your coloured throat, when his lips closed against your jaw, only to trail lower and to press into the marks his fingers continue to trail tucked into your neck. 
That night, when slipping into your hammock felt like the most unbearable prospect in your near future, it couldn’t possibly be worse than uttering your next question to the man that seems to fix it all.  
“Will you stay with me?”
With nothing but the light snores of the rest of the crew and the creaking of the ship, both you and Soonyoung laid in a hammock most definitely not meant for two. Head on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart beats under his scar, it’s bliss. 
The feeling of his warm body against yours and the scent of him settling in your lungs, you decide that this was enough. At least for now. 
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IT WAS DIFFICULT TO give yourself the full list for obvious reasons, but it does seem to help when you tick off all the possible reasons why your patience has run as thin as it has. 
Sitting at the decorated seat at the convened court of old men appointed by your father, you briefly wonder if you should finish them off too amidst your flash of anger. The men continue to squabble and babble about the next course of action, slamming their wrinkled hands on the pristine table and sending their own daggers of threats to the other inhabitants of the table. 
“If you’d like to send a search party for the King’s body, be my guest,” you finally speak, having had quite enough when the throb in your temple worsens. “But remind me what troops you’ll be sending to the North if your best men will be gone for months attempting to find a body they never will.”
The dispute in the North side of the Kingdom was taking up most of the conversation anyway, and you doubt they’d put customary burial rites over their own glory of victory the North would bring. 
“Your Majesty—”
“I would happily jump on the next search ship for my father,” you lie through your teeth. “But I watched him drown in front of my own two eyes, and as the next sovereign I cannot let you waste our resources for something that will both risk our soldier’s lives and have them come back home empty handed.”
Perhaps you had come off slightly more heartless than you intended, so you quickly add, “Please, let my father rest in peace.”
That seems to end the conversation easier than you had expected, but they’re quick to jump to the next issue not long after. 
“The court would also like to bring light upon the palace guests.”
Tightening your jaw, you slump against your seat slightly. “What about them?”
They remain silent as their mouthpiece attempts to form the right words for the following question, mostly because you’ve addressed this multiple times beforehand but they continue to sit restless. 
“Allow me to help you, Lord Bridge,” you sit up straighter, intending to put this matter to rest. “My guests will remain here for as long as they do, and if you have any more arising issues towards my guests I will only take it as your collective issues towards me.” 
In the moment of silence, you continue, “The Kingdom is in a place of instability as we are all well aware. I find it most appalling that you remain fixated on trivial matters of the palace’s domestic code of conduct than you do for the wellbeing of this country!”
Silence yet again as you wait for their forcibly rehearsed chorus of apologies. 
“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”
The pain in your temples becomes near unbearable as you dismiss the table after that, screeching your chair as you push it back as loud as you possibly can to do nothing but spite the men. 
Turning the corner out of the room, you catch the open gates that lead to the paved gardens outside, the sun seeping into the marble floors indoors. Taking an instinctive step towards the gardens, you find most of the crew sprawled onto the grass as they soak in the sun. 
Chan and Seungkwan look like they’re wrestling, their laughter ringing throughout the open court while their captain snaps at them to cut it out, only to get roped under one of their headlocks all the same. 
There’s a call of your name and a giant wave from Mingyu, who spots you from beyond the flower beds. Still leaning against the gates, you smile and wave back. 
Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit. 
Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart. 
Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted. 
He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company. 
“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents. 
“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms. 
“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”  
There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed. 
He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him. 
“Stay. Please.”
True as he has always been, he does.
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THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.
And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life. 
Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner. 
The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night. 
Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion. 
Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented. 
“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone. 
“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile. 
“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”
Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”
“Disappointed?” 
“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”
“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment. 
“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.
Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”
“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”
Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”
At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?” 
Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”
He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours. 
But you don’t. 
“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”
With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”
It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”
“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”
Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?
“Are you going to abandon me too?”
His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him. 
“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.
“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably. 
In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you. 
“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”
Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”
“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”
“I don’t want someone! I want you!”
He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly. 
“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”
He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.
“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”
Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him. 
“I—” he stutters. “The court—”
“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”
You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer. 
“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”
Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth. 
It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again. 
“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”
He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”
For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more. 
The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath. 
The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back. 
“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”
As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face. 
“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”
With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight. 
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BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely. 
Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign. 
But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own. 
Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask. 
“Has the Captain approached?” 
“No, your Majesty.”
You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.” 
Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body. 
Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep. 
That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss. 
Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out. 
Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock. 
“Your guards mortify me.” 
“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”
“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”
Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. 
“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”
“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”
It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”
He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”
Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway. 
Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it. 
If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle. 
From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.
He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving. 
Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.
With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him. 
Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed. 
“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”
“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute. 
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”
Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”
“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”
He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much. 
Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether. 
Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing. 
By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed. 
He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable. 
Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar  that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound. 
You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound. 
On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist. 
The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air. 
Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up. 
“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh. 
The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard. 
“Soonyoung!” 
Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced. 
Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs. 
Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach. 
Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.
“What…What’re you doing?” 
Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question. 
It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—
Ah. 
If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him. 
Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know. 
The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive. 
Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten. 
“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?” 
Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him. 
“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 
It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his. 
Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly. 
The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white. 
With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers. 
You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.
Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused. 
All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were. 
You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue. 
He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit. 
“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder. 
When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt. 
It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further. 
And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system. 
It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree. 
“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible. 
Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were. 
Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”
Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath. 
“I need words, my love.”
Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”
The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you. 
You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 
Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him. 
You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence. 
Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks. 
His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling. 
Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth. 
Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you. 
In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before. 
Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up. 
And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”
He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?” 
It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”
You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”
Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear. 
“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”
His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions. 
The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth. 
“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”
Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”
“You weren’t?” 
He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”
Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.” 
Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.” 
You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”
Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”
The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you. 
And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you. 
“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest. 
“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again. 
Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before. 
“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely. 
“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud. 
Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own. 
But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open. 
“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely. 
Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay. 
He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake. 
Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern. 
It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—
Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you. 
“Oh, Soonyoung.”
Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched. 
All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed. 
He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure. 
One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast. 
It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.
And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again. 
“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”
You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further. 
He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop. 
“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”
Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you. 
It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made. 
He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs. 
You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed. 
“Hi,” he grins. 
“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face. 
He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could. 
You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth. 
“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest. 
You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping. 
He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face. 
“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek. 
“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.
“I’d let you, but…”
“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine. 
He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”
“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark. 
Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart. 
“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”
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BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens. 
It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.
The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace. 
Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this. 
The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same. 
“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”
He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”
“Soonyoung—”
“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”
Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.” 
“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name. 
“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly. 
“I love you.”
“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”
You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.” 
It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes. 
Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers. 
Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers. 
He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone. 
And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly. 
Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”
Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens. 
You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow. 
You could get used to this. And you will. 
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THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace. 
The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses. 
The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer. 
And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks. 
You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship. 
There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow. 
His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take. 
Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago. 
By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.
“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern. 
“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom. 
It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?” 
“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”
His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”
By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you. 
“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”
Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.” 
There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s. 
“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands. 
You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port. 
“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at. 
He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace. 
“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”
“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light. 
One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder. 
He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back. 
As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon. 
There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend. 
For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings. 
That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you. 
Always. 
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[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3
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hannie-dul-set · 1 year ago
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YOURS TO KEEP.
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p — SHEN QUANRUI x female! reader. g — college! au, exchange student! ricky, fluff, very very lightly angsty. w — swearing, alcohol consumption. kdrama references and misquoted quotes. 3.2k words.
note — dreamt of ricky. vomited out.....ricky as ur cute bf who behaves like a cat and whose favorite forms of cross-cultural exchange is receiving headpats and watching kdramas. only 2 scenes are actually inspired by my dream 😭 if someone guesses which line/s were extracted directly from my dream, i'll reward u with a gyuvin drabble how about that 👍
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you picked up a cat from the university’s foreign exchange program.
however, he did not come in a box. he came in a louis vuitton tracksuit and balenciaga sunglasses, which very much caught you off guard when you came to meet him at the admin building, and you greet him after mustering the courage to finally walk up to the cat’s imposing presence. “h—hello! are you perhaps shen quanrui?”
he takes off his sunglasses, meets you with a pair of pretty swoopy, pretty eyes, and says, “oh. yes. are you my owner?” 
you pause. you’re taken aback because that...that doesn’t sound like the right word. “ah, um. i’m the person assigned to help you around the campus and the city for the semester, yes! it’s nice to meet you!” but you brush it off because of language barriers and all. his mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape when you tell him the correct term.
“oh, sorry.”
“it’s alright!” you say. “hope we get along!”
quanrui tells you that you can just call him ricky, and gives you a small smile. one of many that you’ll be graced with for the duration of the semester.
“i’ll be in your care.”
your new cat is a little intimidating at first, clad in all black at all times. the night you helped him first settle into his dorm, even his pajamas were reminiscent of an abyss— like a white ragdoll trying to disguise itself as a panther because you later find out that he’s actually a really sweet, really polite, and really clingy cat.
“um. knock, knock.”
you look up from your laptop, ricky in a long leather coat hesitantly peeking out from your half-open bedroom door (you gave him a copy of your apartment key. your cat needs a way to get in by himself somehow). he texted you earlier, asking if you can help him out with an essay, and you assume he’s right here right now for that very reason.
“do you have your paper?” you ask, closing your laptop. he nods and lifts up his ipad, showing it off. you have a very cute cat. you scoot aside and pat the empty space on your bed, and ricky comes padding in, mattress sinking when he settles beside you, making sure to maintain a respectable enough distance and hands you his device with the google doc open.
“oh. i marked the parts where i’m not sure about my vocabulary,” he mentions the moment a yellow highlighted part came up on the screen. 
you give it a once over. “i think this is right. yeah, you did good.” when you turn your head, you’re met with a pair of proudly sparkling eyes. you stifle out a laugh. “what? do you want a head pat for that?”
“maybe i deserve one?”
you let your fingers sink into the fluff on the top of his head. again, he’s really sweet, really polite, and really clingy. but maybe a little too clingy sometimes, especially when he finally got a lot more comfortable around you.
comfortable enough to hiss at your friends.
“oh, you signed up as a student-helper for the exchange program too?” hanbin asks after seeing you walk in the classroom with ricky in row, trailing behind you like a shadow. 
“yeah, i can’t miss the extra points prof choi baited us with.” you nudge ricky with your elbow, noticing how tense he is all of a sudden and how he’s looking at your senior with a bit of a glare. perhaps he’s threatened by another feline presence.
“nice to meet you!” hanbin greets with a bright, an arm outstretched before you, meant for ricky, but he keeps tucking himself behind you with his hands fixed on your shoulders.
hanbin has his hand left unshaked for five seconds too long now. you nudge him again. he won’t budge.
“ah, ricky is still a little shy!” you exclaim, trying to salvage the situation by grabbing hanbin’s hand instead with both of yours, swinging it around, left and right. you’re lucky your senior is so easygoing. he laughs along with you and says of course, of course, he totally gets it, merrily swinging your arms together back and forth. “he’s still not that confident with his korean. right, ricky?”
“keep holding her and i’ll claw your eyes out.”
you freeze. you leer back at ricky shen, giving him your what the fuck are you saying look? he maintains his stance, tugging you back by the shoulders. you twitch out a smile and try your best to defend your clingy and jealous cat. “ahaha. he’s picked up some weird things from all the dramas he’s been watching,” you say. “sorry about that seonbae! we’ll get to our seats now!”
“haha, it’s alright! nice to meet you ricky!”
“what was that?”you snap back at him the moment hanbin leaves the premises. all ricky does is shrugs and steadies his hold on your shoulders, aiming your body somewhere and he starts making you walk to the back of the classroom— far, far away from where hanbin is sitting.
your cat is a little weird sometimes, sure. gyuvin finds him entertaining enough though. they play tennis every weekend, and ricky started picking up even more weird things from him and all the rest of your friends that you’re starting to think they’re not very good influences.
case in point—
“if you drink this, we’re dating.”
the grape juice he poured into your paper cup nearly spills over from shock. you look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed, cheeks burning and heart racing because what the hell? “seriously, where have you been learning these things?” 
ricky looks satisfied for eliciting that kind of reaction. he pours himself a paper cup of grape juice as well because it’s a weeknight, and you have a quiz tomorrow, and getting wasted is off of the table, so you two settled for juice and chips on your living room floor to relish in your academic misery.
“jiwoong hyung and gunwookie recommended me some movies for me to watch.” he sets down the juice bottle after screwing the cap shut, and you fear the other movies those two gremlins recommended him come from a list of top 50 movie pick-up up lines to woo an unsuspecting victim. next thing you know, he’s gonna invite you to have ramen at his place or go see freaking butterflies with him. “i just watched a moment to remember earlier. my pronunciation is getting better, right?” 
ricky is looking at you with his eyes all big and his lips all pressed together expectantly. he’s waiting for your praise. you feel your chest swell. the grape juice feels heavy in your hand. gosh, he’s such a needy cat. a needy cat that deserves all the praise in the world.
“yeah. i’m proud of you. c’mere.”
you leave your cup on the table to focus on more important things— that is, giving ricky his well deserved pats on the head. you don’t recall how your relationship with him managed to get this far, still remembering how intimidated you felt when you first met him. now he’s on your living room floor, head laying back on your couch with a drama playing on the tiny laptop screen settled on the coffee table, both of you barely paying attention because he’s looking at something on his phone, and you’re gently rubbing his head as you reply to some messages on yours.
“ah, gyuvin is seriously annoying,” you complain. “he’s trying to get me to join his club. coding club he says, when i’m pretty sure he’s just starting it as an excuse to play games on campus.”
“are you going to join?” he asks, bumping his head against your palm when you stop giving him scratches.
“mm, i don’t think so.” you set down your phone to pour all your focus into satisfying your needy cat’s attention requirements. ricky lets out a satisfied rumble when set his head down onto your lap, raking your fingers through the tufts of his hair as he lets his eyes flutter to a close. “i’m already too busy this semester to bother with those things. maybe next time if he’s that desperate to fill in the member numbers..”
“yeah,” he mutters. “you’ll be too busy spending most of your time with me.”
your fingers stop moving.
ricky looks up at you, confused as to why you stopped petting him, and you’d eat him right up if you could. but you can’t keep your cat for too long. it’s only a matter of time before you get your last opportunity to coddle him like this, to shower him in unabashed affection disguised as friendship because the exchange program is temporary, and he’s returning back to china at the end of the semester.
so why is he raising your hopes up if he’s just going to leave anyway?
“i meant my acads, silly,” you say, picking up your untouched juice cup from the table, feeling the weight of the drink slosh around the paper cup as you let it hover in front of your lips. 
he’s raising your hopes up and you’re letting him. you know this is gonna end in a disaster.
still.
“but if you put it that way—”
the sharp taste of sweet grapes hits the back of your throat, swallowing down the lukewarm juice that’s been sitting since ricky poured a cup for you. if you’re gonna crash down at the end of this, might as well crash down from two thousand feet above the ground. 
“are we dating now?”
you set the cup back down on the table, gaze flickered down at ricky, whose face is flushed in surprise one moment— easing into understanding the next, and he props himself up from your lap, reaching out for the back of your neck to pull you into a sugary tart kiss.
yeah, you think, feeling the softness of his lips brush against yours, his eyelashes tickling your cheeks when he pulls you in even closer. if your time with him has a deadline, might as well make the most out of it.
“i was disappointed when you didn’t drink it the first time,” he says, drunk on sweet juice and the feeling of your mouth against his. “jiwoong hyung said that line was effective.”
“can you not think about another man when i’m kissing you?”
he lets out a laugh, “‘m sorry,” then presses a fluttering kiss on your temple, tip of your nose, until his lips meet yours once more at last. “let me try again. ahem. i like you. i don’t need a rainbow.”
“you got the line wrong, baek yijin. try again next time.”
if he’s going to leave anyway, might as well make his departure as heart wrenching as all the dramas he’s so fond of watching.
“looks like our friend here got more than just extra credit for volunteering to help out the exchange students.”
you look up from the stack of papers on your table, only to have more dropped off by taerae with a thunk. hanbin, gyuvin, matthew and ricky are also loitering around the classroom— not that they’re helping you and taerae check the test papers your profs asked you to grade as a favor. at least the constant yelling and arguing and meowing noises(?) are making things a lot more lively.
“congrats, you lucky bitch,” he says.
“you sound like you want to covet my cat,” you raise a brow at him, adding the new set to your pile as taerae grabs a new stack as well.
“your cat for this mutt,” he points his thumb at matthew, who’s currently tucked in the to answer an evaluation sheet on taerae. ricky’s doing the same evaluation about you, somewhere. you’re not sure where your cat went, but he’s probably just around. “are you perhaps open for negotiation?”
“matthew isn’t a mutt. he’s a cute golden retriever.”
“well, your cat doesn’t seem to appreciate you calling someone else cute.”
taerae swerves off to reveal a pouting ricky. he’s got his arms crossed, the evaluation sheet folded in between the fingers of his right hand, and you have to hold back a laugh. “did you finish my evaluation?” you ask.
“i did, but i wanna redo it now. negative points for you,” he protests, but lets you snatch the paper from him anyway. you scoot your chair to the left to give him some space next to you. he grabs an empty armchair and nudges his nose close to your face when you start reading his note at the bottom.
“mid-semester evaluation. my student-helper is very acommodatimg. she has been helping me adjust to korea very well. you spelled accommodating wrong, angel.” 
“i did it on purpose to test you. good job. you pass.”
you roll your eyes, free hand absentmindedly reaching out for the top of his head, and you hear ricky let out a noise of satisfaction. “she always answers my questions and is…very pretty and smells nice,” you set the paper down. your cat is looking at you expectantly. “ricky, i don’t think you can submit this.”
“why not?” he asks. “professor choi said to be as honest as possible.”
your cheeks grow warm.
gosh. this makes things even harder knowing your cat has to leave eventually.
“what did i tell you?”
the convenience store lights need to be replaced soon, you note. it keeps flickering intermittently against the dim night— reminiscent of how you’re feeling right now when you called jiwoong out for a few drinks two weeks before finals, but you’re not depressed because finals are near. you’re wallowing in tear stained sniffles because the exchange program will be over soon, meaning you only have two weeks until ricky has to pack his bags and leaves.
“not to get too attached because he has to say goodbye eventually,” you lament, a puddle of soju burning your lips. jiwoong looks at your pathetic state with remorseful sigh.
“and what did you do?” he says.
“got too attached and now i have to say goodbye to him eventually.” you groan and swallow down a shot. you’re about to pour yourself another, but jiwoong pulls back the bottle— maybe your third one of the night, you’re not sure— away from your reach, and pushes you a plastic bottle of water instead. 
“you just had to go ahead and start dating him like an idiot,” he cracks open the water for you when you don’t do anything with it. he pours it in a shot glass, and you take the bait, drinking down the water, eyebrows furrowing when it doesn’t burn your throat like you expected. “maybe if you tell him to say, he might listen to you.”
you let out a gasp. “i can’t do that! that’d be so selfish of me!”
jiwoong can’t do anything to help you but share your miseries tonight. he simply sits in silence, waiting for the owner of the number he texted a while ago to make an appearance, and listen to your drunk ramblings at eleven in the evening.
“i miss my cat. i haven’t seen him the entire day because he says he had things to do with hanbin and hao.” you’ve melted into the table. high pitched whines aside, he’s surprised you’re still coherent at this point. “bring me back my cat. i miss him so much. i miss my cat. i miss my ricky. i wish he’d never leave me.”
jiwoongs eyes flit up. “looks like your cat misses you too.” he pulls himself up from his chair and picks up his jacket from the backrest. “took you long enough.”
when you tip your head back in confusion, wondering who the hell jiwoong is talking to, you’re pleasantly surprised to see the upside-down face of the cat you’ve been missing.
“ah,” you sound out. “you’re here.”
“thanks, hyung,” ricky settles a hand on the top of your head. you blink. now you understand why he liked headpats so much. “i’ll take care of her from here.”
this is eye opening. you feel your eyelids growing heavier as ricky continues to massage your head, his and jiwoong’s faraway voices talking about something, something you can’t really hear, until jiwoong waves off, and it’s just you and ricky in front of the quiet flickering lights of the convenience store entrance.
you hear yourself whine when ricky’s hand disappears from the top of your head. “you should’ve called me if you missed me,” he says, circling from behind the chair to being in front of you now. he crouches down, settling his crossed arms on your lap, and he looks up at you with his pretty swoopy eyes. “why didn’t you call me?”
“i need to get used to you not being around even if i miss you,” you say, letting your fingers sink into the soft strands of his hair.
ricky lets out a questioning hum. “why wouldn’t i be around?”
“because your deadline is near,” you grumble. “i have to return you to where i first picked you up, but i don’t want to. but you have to. this sucks so much.”
you’re still saddled with insobriety, and the fact that your sweet cat isn’t purring like usual when you’re patting his head is making your bottom lip quiver and your eyes sting because you fear you might’ve said something wrong. “aren’t you gonna ask me what i did today?” he simply asks. you suck in a wavering breath and swallow a lump in your throat.
“what...did you do today?”
“hanbin hyung helped me settle the requirements for my transfer” ricky lands a gentle hold on your wrist and brings your hand down to the side of his face, cupping his cheek. it’s warm. “i’m going to continue attending here. hao hyung is too.”
you blink at him. “w—what?”
“i don’t have to leave. you don’t have to keep missing me.” he brings your hand down palm to the front of his lips, pressing a kiss into your palm. “i’m not going anywhere. i’m yours to keep.”
it takes you a moment to register ricky’s words, so you stay there for a while— sitting frozen in cold silence until the warmth of his messages finally settles in to thaw you out. oh, you think. “oh,” you repeat out loud, voice wavering. ricky hums out a smile at your reaction. he rises, pulling you up to your feet, and you stumble into him.
“i think i know the perfect line for this moment,” he says, steadying a hold on the small of your back. “what was it? if I don't see you, i get upset. If you're depressed, i get curious. something like that?”
“it’s the other way around, dummy.” you sniffle. “why do you keep quoting nam joohyuk?” 
“because he’s cool,” he says. “let’s go watch start-up at your place once you’ve sobered up.”
the cat you picked from the university’s foreign exchange program is clingy, sweet, and is for some reason obsessed with quoting the dramas he’s been watching. he keeps an arm around you when he walks you back to your apartment after grieving over his departure, only to kiss you with the news that you don’t have to return him any time soon.
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YOURS TO KEEP. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.
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839 notes · View notes
aemondapologistfrfr · 4 months ago
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Command Me 2/2
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knight!benji blackwood x strong!fem!reader
Part One
Summary: The following days after Brandon’s death your emotions are all over the place. You make a confession and a plea to Benji who will do anything to see you happy. 
Warnings: 18+ mentions of death and murder, swearing, oral(f receiving), fingering, p in v, breeding kink, preg!reader for a bit but no birth scene, face riding, nipple play, smutty and sweet, time jumps bc i can, 2% angsty in the beginning 
Authors Note: finishing up @chainsawsangel request, they deserve a happy ending fr
Word Count: 3.1k
⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Two days after Brandon’s death
I sit in my chambers with Benji at my side and my mother in front of me silently talking to me. I nod my head not taking in any of her words as Jace eyes me from the hearth. Benji rests his hand on mine and I look down and smile up to him. I turn my head back to my mother as I feel a tear slip down my cheek. 
“My sweet girl.” she coos pulling me into a hug. I don’t even know why I’m so emotional. I asked Benji to do this and I loathed Brandon. I’m just never good when it comes to dealing with The Stranger. My mother rocks me as I let my tears flow and I sniffle and sit back. 
“The silent sisters said he’s ready to be buried.” Jace speaks up and I see him looking over me and Benji. “I don’t see why you insist on waiting and letting his body sit.” 
“We all mourn in our own ways.” Benji says from my side. 
“Mm, the ever faithful protector. Where were you when this happened then?” Jace walks over to the chairs. 
“Outside of my chambers. He’s sworn to me.” I say through my teeth. 
“That’s enough.” our mother stands. “His funeral will be held tomorrow and then we can begin to heal and move forward. Jace, come.” she nods her head along with her to the door. 
I relax back into the couch curling up within myself as Benjis hand grabs mine. I sigh and pull my hand away wrapping it around my legs. My feelings are everywhere right now and everyone is expecting me to act a certain way and I’m just feeling overwhelmed. 
“What’s wrong?” his words hushed as I turn to him and take in his furrowed brow. 
“I think I need to be alone.” I nod my head to him and he offers me a sad smile before slipping out of my chambers. 
I rush to my wardrobe and start sliding on my riding gear. I pull my boots on and I’m in the tunnels in an instant. I can’t stand to be in this castle a second longer. I race down the stairs and slip out the side of the Keep closest to the pits. From there I stitch my way through the city streets avoiding the guards. Relief pours through me as I start up the incline. I hear my dragons distinct rumbling and he’s coming up from the pits by the time I step foot in the dome. 
“Let’s disappear for a while.” I hum patting his snout. I begin to mount and as I secure my last clip Benji runs through the doors. 
“Princess wait, please,” he reaches up to me and my dragon jogs past him and shoots us into the sky. 
We cast a shadow over the city and my dragon offers them a fearsome cry. We swoop low to the buildings and then glide over the Blackwater. He drags his claws into the water encasing us in a mist. The sun kisses my face and dries my tears as we continue further from the city. We loop back around and enter the Kings Wood through the back hoping to go unnoticed offering us a couple hours of reprieve. 
My dragon starts a small fire for us before we curl around it. He brings his wing to canopy over me and I look up and admire his scales. I run my fingers against them as he chuffs and coos. We lay in silence and watch the sun start to dip under the trees. I feel a deep grumble come from my dragon and I’m on my feet in seconds. I quickly mount my dragon and we’re in the skies but not before I can see the hurt express across Benjis face. We land on the coast and the only sound is the waves crashing. 
“I killed my husband.” I look up at the moon. 
I kick off my boots and make quick work of the rest of my clothing. My dragon watches me curiously as I begin to step into the Bay. I dip my head under and swim out further. I hear my dragon offer low chuffs as I float near the sands. 
“Get back on this shore.” Benjis voice is muffled by the water in my ears. 
“No.” I sigh as I turn myself to float further away from the shore.
“Then I’m coming out there.” I hear him enter the Bay. His hand wraps around my arm and I look up to him. “What’s wrong, Princess?” he brushes my wet hair off of my face as I continue to float. 
“I’m sullied, I’ve sullied you, I’m a liar, and I’ve killed my husband.” I sigh and dip my head beneath the waves. Benji pulls me up and starts to carry me back to shore as I hold onto him. 
“You didn’t kill him, I did.” he sits us down on the sands. 
“Why did you kill him?” my voice barely audible as I try not to shiver at the breeze against my skin.
“You asked me to.” his eyes slide to mine. 
“Do you remember my wedding night?” I see him ball his fists. “You told me you would kill him in that very moment. Why did you want to?” I tilt my head studying him. 
“I was mad and frustrated with him. He treated you so poorly and kicked you out of his chambers after. He knew-“ he shakes his head sighing. “He knew, as well as everyone else in that castle, that I wanted you, that I still want you. He would tease you in front of me like some toy I could never have, but you’re not a toy. You’re smart and fearless and a bit reckless. You are to be Queen and should be treated as such.” his eyes finally meet my watery ones and I sniffle pulling him towards me. I can’t contain the small gasps that leave my mouth at the cool touch of his metal armor on my bare body. 
“I want to marry you, Benji. You take such good care of me.” I whisper as I burrow into his neck. His hands stay firmly on my waist as his fingers dig in. 
“We can’t.” he shakes his head. “I’m a knight and your sworn protector.” his voice strained as I stretch to unclip his armor. 
“You were a Lord before.” I hum lifting off his chest piece. “Lord Benjicot Blackwood of Raventree Hall. They call you Bloody Ben for all the accomplishments you achieved for my mother.” I take off his last piece while his fingers are still pressed firmly into my hips. 
“Y/n,” his voice wrecked. 
“Wed me, rule with me. Please Benji, I don’t want anyone else.” my hands start to pull up his shirt. 
“People will talk.” he grunts as I start to unlace his trousers. 
“Let them.” I kiss his neck. “Must I beg you to wed me?” I slip my hand beneath his trousers. 
“You will never have to beg me for anything.” his lips crash into mine and his hands finally begin to roam upon my exposed skin. He lays me on my back and places kisses down my torso before dipping his head between my thighs. 
“Benji,” I cry out as he offers me teasing licks. He chuckles against me before lashing at me with his tongue. My head falls back into the sand while whimpers cascade from my mouth. He holds me against his face as my legs begin to shake while coaxing pleasure from my body.  I arch off the sand as the coil snaps and my legs close around him. 
“Gods look at you in the moonlight.” he kisses up my body before capturing my lips. I gasp into his mouth as I feel his fingers slide through my sensitive core. He dips a finger in and chuckles against my mouth. He slips a second finger in and starts a slow lazy pace as I squirm beneath him. 
“Do you like the way I make you feel?” he asks curling his fingers pulling a moan from me. 
“Yes,” I mewl rocking my hips on his fingers. 
“You look so beautiful like this.” he starts to push his finger into me faster and I can’t contain the sounds coming out of me. “Come for me, Princess.” he murmurs into my neck before sinking his teeth into me. 
“Benji fuck,” I cling to him as I pulse around his ever moving fingers. “I need you in me, please,” my nails dig into his back. 
“You really want to marry me?” his voice low as he kneels up to push down his trousers. 
“I do,” I nod my head ignoring my ragged breathing.
“Do you want to have my children?” he slowly strokes himself and I open my legs wider for him. 
“Yes, Benji please,” I reach out to him.
“I’m going to fill you until my seed is seeping out of you and I’ll keep fucking and filling you until you’re swollen.” my body shudders at his words as he spreads my thighs. His tip slides around my wetness before he pushes into me. He rolls his hips into me and moans begin falling from my mouth. 
“So good, Benji fuck,” I whine as I feel my pleasure begin to wash through me. He leans down and kisses me fiercely as he pounds his hips into mine. I cling around him and I feel my stomach start to tighten. His thrusts get sloppier the more high pitched my whines are. He bursts inside me as my toes curl while I contract around him. 
“Taking it all so well,” he rasps as he continues to push his hips into mine. He dips down and licks across my lips. I open my mouth letting his tongue coax small gasps and moans from me. “When these fill with milk I’ll be tempted not to even let you leave our chambers.” he chuckles rolling my nipples. 
“Benji,” I move my hips and he pushes into me deeper. He shushes me as he continues to roll his hips into me. I writhe beneath him as he litters kisses and bites across my chest. I start to feel him harden the more he pumps into me. He brings a finger down to swirl against my bud and I come undone as he begins to start pushing into me. 
“Squeezing me so good.” his fingers dig into my sides as he makes my hips meet his. I wrap my legs around his waist and cry out as his hips snap into me. I feel my high approaching again and Benjis thrusts become more erratic. As he starts to fill me again I come crying out his name. He pulls out and looks down with pleasure glazed eyes. 
“Look at you dipping with my seed.” he slides two fingers around and starts pumping it back into me. My hips jerk at his touch as my legs shake. 
“Benji,” my voice cracks as his tongue licks against my bud. “I’m gunna-“ a cry tears from my throat as I come again with my eyes rolling back. 
“You’re perfect.” he hums laying down in the sand next to me. 
⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Six months after wedding 
I walk down the main steps of the Keep with Benji hovering around me keeping both hands on me at all times. Once we make it to the bottom I huff and bat his hands away. I should’ve know that since he was overbearing as my sworn protector he would be so much worse as I’m carrying his child. 
“You’re lucky I didn’t carry you down the stairs.” he says bringing a hand to my lower back and holding my arm with the other. 
“Benji I’m not going to break.” I sigh. “I just want to go for a walk around the grounds.” I pout looking up at him. 
“We are going for a walk.” he hums leading me out of the main doors. 
“I don’t need your hands guiding my every step.” I try not to snap. 
“I just want to help you and touch you. My beautiful wife.” he coos sliding a hand to my swollen bump. “Men need to know you’re mine.” his voice low.
“They know I’m yours, husband.” I look up to him and place my hand over his on my stomach. 
“I still see the way men look at you. Makes me want to take you in front of them.” he dips down to my ear. 
“Benji,” I breathe out. 
“Spread these beautiful thighs of yours and lick you until you cry.” his arms pull me closer. “And then-“ 
“Benji, please,” I mewl feeling my wetness pool between my legs. 
“Look at you all worked up.” he chuckles gazing down at me. “You wanted to go on a walk not come, so let’s go.” I follow after him with pink cheeks. I wrap my arm around his as he leads us through the gardens. 
“What else would you do?” I whisper and he turns to me with a smirk. 
“It might be too scandalous for the gardens.” his lips brush against my ear. 
“Tell me.” I whine breathlessly. 
“Let’s go back to our chambers.” I nod tugging him back to the main doors. 
Once we’re sealed in our chambers he starts to unlace my dress before sliding it down my body. He groans kneading the tender flesh of my breasts. I let out soft whimpers as he ghosts across my nipples. He pulls the slip off of me and brings his hands to my bump while pressing his lips against mine. I pull up on his shirt and he pulls it off and is stepping out of his trousers a moment later. I sigh feeling his skin on mine and his hands caressing my body. 
“Benji,” I whine against his lips as his fingers trail over my slit. 
“Yes, Princess?” his fingers spread into my wetness and swirl over my sensitive bud. 
“I’m gunna come,” I cling onto his arms getting lost in him.
“I just started touching you.” he chuckles speeding up his fingers. 
“Benji please,” I whine as my body goes taught coming undone. 
“Someone’s sensitive today.” he purrs backing me to the bed. “Sit on my face.” he lays out on the bed pulling me to him. 
“I’ll suffocate you.” my cheeks heat. 
“Then I’ll die happy. Let’s go.” he helps me straddle his face. He licks a long stripe up my center and my whole body trembles. My legs start to shake as I lean my head back letting the whimpers trickle out. I grind against his face as my pleasure starts to wash through me. He holds me closer as his tongue slips through my wetness before pushing into me. 
“Benji, it’s too much I’m gunna-“ I squeeze my legs around his face as he laps up my release. His tongue continues to lick sending aftershocks through me. He helps me off of him and lays me next to him on my back. 
“I just wanna keep making you come, my beautiful wife.” he kisses against my chest while trailing a hand down to my core. His tongue circles nipple and I squeeze my thighs shut before he can even reach my wetness. He chuckles against my nipple and I melt beneath him. He pulls his other hand up from my thighs and brings it to my neglected breast. He kneads into me softly as I mewl above him. 
“Yes,” I pant breathlessly holding him against me. His teeth graze against my peak while his fingers roll my other and I come undone. 
“I know you can give me more.” he purrs slipping his hand down to my core. 
⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Four years after wedding
I hold tightly to my daughter who’s clipped against me. My dragon soars through the clouds as she giggles wildly in my arms. Her baby dragon flies next to us crying out. I was absolutely terrified to bring her with on dragon back the first time but my dragon was calm and accommodating. As we land in the pits her dragon comes bounding in stumbling on his lengthy legs. We slide down off the side and I unclip her so she can run over to her dragon hugging him tightly. 
“She may steal your title for youngest dragon rider.” Benji kisses me before pulling me into a hug. 
“Her dragon has grown quite fast.” we look at our daughter playing with her dragon. “Did she show you which one she picked out?” I turn to him with a smile and he shakes his head no.
“Let’s go show daddy which egg you picked out for the babe.” I kneel down holding my arms out for her. She runs into my arms and I scoop her up. 
We travel down the incline and turn into the hot room where they house the clutches. Our daughter wiggles out of my arms before grabbing Benjis hand and dragging him to the back wall. 
“He’s gunna have this red one.” she lays her little palm on the egg. 
“He?” Benji turns to me with a smile. 
“She’s decided she’s having a brother.” I smile rubbing my bump. 
⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Just under five years after the wedding
“If the family tradition keeps up like this your grandchildren will come out on dragonback.” my mother chuckles next to me bouncing my son on her hip as we watch my daughter fly around the courtyard a couple moons shy of five. 
“Did you hear that his is already spitting fire.” I sigh brushing his hair back. 
“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” she smiles to me. “I’m happy to see you content.” 
“I am.” I smile as Benji scoops up our daughter before jogging over to us. My mother hands off my son to me before sweeping out of the courtyard. 
“My perfect family.” he showers all of us with kisses before pulling us into a hug. 
⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
masterlist 🔌 
i’ve been neglecting the His Wife mini series but this def got the ball rolling again for me 
taglist ✍️ 
@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shin0n
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ss-tier-simp · 6 months ago
Text
"mine" - bucky barnes x f!reader
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Summary: Bucky is getting a little anxious to show you are his.
Warnings: angsty in the beginning (mentions of war and death) and then BAM here comes the smut. Bucky has a bit of a marking kink, there is a hint of cockwarming, p in v penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) . This is NSFW and contains +18 content, so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
A/Ν: This is my first time dipping my toes in +18 territory, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Any mistakes made are my own, as it is unbetad and english is not my first language.
The world was a cruel place. He saw it in Brooklyn while his mother barely made meets end, just to put food on the table for his sister and him.
He saw it in the trenches of war as men, both friends and foe alike fell to their untimely demise, without a trace remaining to be sent back to their folks.
The world's cruelty was marred into his skin, wounds that never properly healed, aching. A constant reminder of what exactly was taken away from him. Memories of a past he desperately tried to forget always haunted him, never giving him much-needed peace.
It took his family away from him, his friends, his innocence, his sanity, his arm.
And it kept taking.
And taking.
The world has helped form and shape him into the man he is. A man who put a stake in things he found precious in this unfamiliar era, refusing to let the world take them away from him.
One of his most precious things was you. A fact that he was proud to show off to the world with the marks he was now sucking into the delicate skin of your throat. A brand that reminded everyone that you belonged with him.
"Bucky!" you whined as you felt his lips sucking another mark. The feel of his tongue laving against the delicate skin of your throat made your pussy clench around him.
Your chest heaved against his, trying its best to bring in the oxygen your body desperately needed. You felt lightheaded. The heat and the closeness of your bodies brought out a neediness in you.
Friction. You needed friction. You needed to feel him move. Yet the unrelenting grip he had on your hips rendered any attempt to grind against his lap futile. He got you where he wanted. Panting, moaning, writhing. Wanting.
Your hand made a beautiful trip, mapping the taut muscles of his back before it reached its destination. It found the locks of his brown hair and yanked just enough for his lips to abandon their task and force his eyes onto your pleading ones.
"Bucky, please!" you gasped, your eyes blurry with tears at the delicious torture that Bucky had subjected you to. His metal hand left its place on your hips to caress your cheek and wipe the tear that threatened to spill.
"Please, what?" his tone was taunting, but you paid it no mind.
"Bucky, please move!" the words tumbled out of your mouth, not caring about how desperate you sounded.
"Whatever my pretty girl wants." both of his hands were on your hips again. A shiver went down your body at the loss of his body heat. He straightened his body putting more weight on his legs, in favor of watching your pussy clench and weep around him.
You almost sobbed in relief when you felt his hips finally move, the slow drag of his cock stealing any coherent thought in your mind.
He moved his cock from your deepest parts, feeling your pussy tighten around him as if she was afraid that he would abandon her, leave her high and dry. He let his thrusts be shallow, the head of his cock bullying a spot in you that had your eyes rolling back in pleasure.
He indulged in the sounds that left your mouth, the intense heat of your pussy that sucked him in greedily, the way your back arched against the mattress.
"B-Bucky." you started but another shallow thrust managed to rob you of your words and instead replaced them with loud moans.
"What pretty girl?" Bucky couldn't help but grin at you, loving the way he reduced you to a babbling mess.
"P-please Bucky." you started again. "Please, move."
"Move?" he questioned, his thrust continuing to punch at that special spot inside you. "I'm moving baby. What do you want? Are you going to use your big girl words?"
"Want more Bucky." you sobbed. "Want it harder, want it deeper. Please Bucky, please!"
His hands found the back of your knees, as quickly as the words left your mouth, bringing them towards your chest. "Keep them there for me." His tone was firm, a demand you were more than glad to fulfill.
When you did just that, he found support on the mattress putting once again more of his body weight on you and then finally his cock found its home at your deepest part.
The pleasure robbed you of your voice, your mouth stuck in a silent scream. His strokes were deep, showing off the strength that he hid whenever he touched you. Every time he filled you to the brim. The coarse patch of hair ground against your clit giving you that extra shot of delicious pleasure.
Your moans, his grunts, the slap of skin against skin, and the squeaking of the mattress that you had to get rid of, filled the room building a beautiful harmony. A crescendo that built until it reached its climax.
"I-I'm cumming." you gasped. "Fuck, I am cumming."
"I'm close too," Bucky said. "cum for me, baby."
The tightening of your walls was the only answer he received as the pleasure got too much, your body jerking before going still as you fell off the edge into one of the most mind-blowing orgasms.
The vice-like grip of your heat as it spasmed around him was enough to set off his own orgasm, losing the tempo that he had set, and he buried himself  close as it was humanly possible.
You felt his cock pulse as he spilled inside you. An overwhelming sensation that seemed to prolong your orgasm. Bucky dipped down his head, his urge to kiss you winning over every other instinct and your lips met into a messy kiss, as you both relished in the aftermath.
He let all of his weight on you and the wheezing laugh that escaped you interrupted your kiss. You let your knees fall and instead pushed against Bucky's chest, trying to get him off you.
"Bucky, you are heavy!" you complained as you laughed, a laugh Bucky mirrored before he rolled off you and onto his side.
You felt his eyes on you and you turned to see him staring at the marks he had left on your neck, proud of his handiwork.
"You have to stop giving me hickeys, " you declared, his eyes meeting yours, their disappointment evident. "They are a bitch to cover up, every time I go to work."
"Stop with the puppy eyes." you couldn't contain the laugh at the antics of a man who is supposed to be over one hundred years old.
"What about a compromise?" he offered and you looked at him quizically.
"How about I start leaving them in places, others could only hope to see." he continued and you snorted.
"Bucky Barnes, is this a possessiveness sort of thing?" you asked and he shrugged or at least he tried as he was still lying down.
"I like people knowing you are mine," he admitted. A smile bloomed on your face and you pecked his nose enjoying how his face scrunched up.
"Unbelievable, you possessive grumpy old man!" you started to rise from the bed, to head towards the bathroom. "How about you join me for a shower? We are both sweaty and yucky."
He followed suit, sneaking upon your retreating form to grab you and lift you in his arm, a squeal leaving you at the sudden loss of the floor from your feet.
"You know I've heard great things about fun time in the shower." He commented. You were in for a long night.
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whimsicalpolitical · 7 months ago
Text
He’s begging babe stay, stay, stay- Matty Healy x Reader
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a/n: self titled era has a special place in my heart and I wanted to write a proper story regarding this era. Sorry if it’s shit and it feels like it’s very long.
content warning: maybe a bit angsty? fluff, smut, 18+ MDNI, p in v, dry humping, fingering, praise, dirty talk
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It’s a shit day. All you have done until now is count the hours until your brother Ross is leaving to go on tour with his band.
The past days the boys were at your house just hanging around, smoking and to practice in your garage. You know because you spent time in the living room, pretending to work when all you’ve done is watch him or listen to his voice.
Matty's voice, raw and magnetic, cut through the music. Every time he sang, it felt like the world around you blurred, leaving only his voice in sharp focus.
Some times in their breaks you prayed that he would leave the garage to get a drink and when he did you felt giddy, like a nervous school girl.
Your eyes followed his every move. His black skinny jeans clinging to his body, the black shirt and leather jacket matching his persona. He’s just so attractive.
You’re grateful that Ross is part of the band. The past years have been a blessing because you could innocently see Matty and be around him without it being weird.
Your heart started racing when he entered the room, most of the times it was the middle of the night and you were grateful for the darkness that hid your flushed cheeks. You tried to focus on your breathing, but it was futile. The mere thought of him noticing you made you feel like a bundle of nerves. You had been around these boys all your life, but Matty—Matty was different.
You’re dreading the moment he leaves the house for good..
21:18- You’re sitting on the porch trying to smoke the thoughts away but every drag hurts your lung immensely.
They’re playing ‘you’ right now and you can’t help but close your eyes to the muffled music. You really will cry to the end. Cry until there’s no tears left. Maybe it’s over the top because you can’t even hold eye contact with Matty and he would never fall for you.
You’re very aware of the many different girls he had or has. And you, you had your first kiss a month ago with some football player because you tried to forget about him but you just can’t.
The reality of their imminent departure is settling in. The garage is alive with music, but you feel the weight of the upcoming silence. You will miss Ross, of course. His absence will leave a void in the house, but Matty's absence will leave a void in your heart.
You take another drag, the smoke burning your throat. The stars above are a blur through your tears. You wish you can be brave enough to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection is paralyzing. You would rather suffer in silence than risk the delicate balance of your current reality.
As the song changes to ‘robbers’, you let yourself sink into the music. The lyrics feel like they are written for you, capturing the longing and the heartache you can’t express. Tomorrow, they will be gone, and you will be left with nothing but memories and unspoken words.
You exhale slowly, the smoke dissipating into the night air. The porch light flicker, casting fleeting shadows. The night is as restless as you are, and the loneliness is beginning to set in. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the cold concrete against your skin, and let the tears fall.
The music winds down, the final chords of hanging in the air like a whispered goodbye. You feel the silence settling in, heavy and inevitable. The garage door creaks open, and the boys' laughter floats out into the night, but it feels distant, like it belongs to another world. You crush the cigarette under your foot, watching the embers fade, a mirror to your fading hope.
You’re sitting there hugging your knees, covering your face and you can’t even hear footsteps approaching.
“D’you mind some company?”
This can’t be.
You look up, mascara completely ruined but you wipe your face with your sleeves. Matty is looking at you and his gaze drops, you think it’s almost a bit of worry.
“Shit,” he says, “sorry, I can go if I’m interrupting?”
“No no, it’s ok.” You say, pulling out another cigarette.
He nods as he leans against a wooden beam in your driveway, mirroring your movements by also lighting a cigarette.
The silence is sickening. You sure as hell won’t say anything because he caught you crying like a wimp in front of the door while they are playing their songs.
“S’ it Ross?” You think about how stupid the question is and you agree with Matty even though you want to say, ‘No, it's you.’
"Yeah," you lie, nodding. "It's Ross. Just gonna miss having him around."
Matty takes a drag, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the darkness. "He'll be back, you know. It’s just a tour. He’ll come home."
You nod, the lie sitting heavy in your chest. "I know. It's just... different without him here."
He flicks the ash from his cigarette, the glow illuminating his features for a brief moment. "Yeah, it's always different when someone's gone. Makes you realize how much you take them for granted."
He’s looking at you. He’s seeing you. The way he looks at you makes your breath catch in your throat. There's an intensity in his gaze, a softness that you rarely see. It's like he's trying to understand, to reach out without words.
You wonder how he sees you. Here you are, sitting on the porch with ruined mascara, tears staining your cheeks, and your heart on display. It's embarrassing, and you feel exposed under his gaze. But there's something in the way he looks at you that makes you think he sees more than just the tears and the smudged makeup. Maybe he sees the vulnerability, the raw emotion that you've been trying to hide.
You want to tell him it's not just Ross. That the thought of him leaving is what's tearing you apart. But the words stick in your throat, and you just nod again, staring at the ground.
“Ross became my family as well,” he says softly, “means you’re family too and we all are going to miss you.”
Your heart aches at his words, knowing how much more they mean to you than they do to him. "Thanks, Matty.“
You wonder if it’s the last time you’ll say his name, how long it will take for you to say it again.
“How long until you leave here?” You ask hoping deep down he tells you they won’t leave at all.
“Planned on leaving at 2,” he tries to smile, “punctuality isn’t our strength as you may know.”
You manage a small laugh, though it feels hollow. "Yeah, I know."
He glances at his watch and then back at you. "It's not too late. We still have some time. You should come inside, hang out with us for a bit.”
“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit.” You want to be alone with him, and the thought of being in a room with the whole band right now feels overwhelming. So you decline, shaking your head gently.
He seems to understand, not pushing further. Instead, he surprises you by sitting down next to you on the porch steps. The proximity sends a rush of warmth through you, even in the cool night air.
"Y'know, I've always liked these quiet moments. Sometimes, it's nice to just... be.”
You nod, appreciating his words. "Yeah, it is.”
He turns his head slightly to look at you, and you meet his gaze. There's a softness in his eyes, a hint of something that feels almost like longing.
You notice Matty's smell—a mix of his cologne, a hint of leather from his jacket, and something distinctly him. It’s comforting and intoxicating, a scent you know you'll miss.
You shift slightly, turning to face him. "Do you ever think about what comes next?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He looks at you, his eyes reflecting the dim porch light. "Sometimes," he admits. "But it's hard to focus on the future when the present is so demanding."
You nod, understanding all too well. "I get that. But I mean, beyond the tours and the music. What do you see for yourself?"
He takes a deep breath, his gaze thoughtful. "Honestly, I don't know. I guess I hope for something more stable, something real. It's easy to get lost in the chaos, but I want to find something that grounds me." His eyes drop to your lips and if you would have blinked in that moment you would have missed it. “Someone who grounds me.”
“I understand,” you gulp, wanting to be the person.
“I think about it.” You frown, not knowing what he means. “What it would be like to settle down, find someone real.”
“Like a relationship?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, “someone who just gets it. Would sort me out I think.”
“Maybe.” You could fucking punch yourself. You’re giving short ass answers but you’re scared to say more. You’re scared that if you reveal yourself it would be so much worse when he’s gone.
He leans back slightly, his arm brushing against yours. "Maybe it's not so far off, you know? Sometimes, the right person is closer than you think."
You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you look away, hoping he doesn't notice. But he does and he thinks it’s for the wrong reason.
“Do you have a person?” He asks.
“Don’t you think you would know, you’re here all the time.”
He chuckles and it might be your favorite sound. “Alright you’ve got a point there, love.”
Love. It’s a british thing but your heart still skips a beat, and a warmth spreads through your chest, melting away any lingering doubts or fears. The simple term of endearment feels like a promise, a glimpse of something more between you.
“Does it mean you still haven’t had your first kiss yet?” The question surprises you, he’s very forward and it makes you regret that you didn’t wait. Because maybe he could’ve been your first kiss.
“No I had my first kiss,” you say, “wasn’t anything serious though.”
“How was it?”
That’s the Matty you’re familiar with. Not the ‘romance talk’ kind of guy but the guy who has a shit eating grin on his face because he’s experienced and wants to know everything about the sex life of others.
“Not sure,” you cringe, “wasn’t how I imagined it.”
“How did you imagine it?”
“I didn’t imagine him slipping me tongue the second we kiss,” you groan at the memory and he laughs, “and he was just so violent, didn’t really feel good.”
He hums, stepping out the cigarette. “S’ a bummer, everyone should know how a good kiss feels.”
You don’t know what he’s hinting at because it would be dumb to assume he’s projecting the statement on to you.
“Not every guy is like that.” He says and your eyes find his again, “mate was bloody inexperienced.”
Matty is only 23 years old, three years older than you. Can’t be that much of a different between the guys.
"Yeah, well, it's not like I've got a lot of experience either," you admit, feeling a bit exposed.
He gives you a sympathetic look, but there's a playful edge to it. "Experience isn't everything, love. It's about the connection, the moment. And trust me, when it's right, you'll know."
You do know. You know with him, you’re sure that you want to kiss him. You want to experience life with him, do everything.
“A good kiss shouldn’t leave you feeling anything but wanted.” He shifts closer, his thigh now next to yours.
You look at him, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Yeah?"
He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah.”
You can feel the electricity in the air as Matty leans closer, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, fear, longing. For years, you’ve harbored these feelings for him, tucking them away in the corners of your heart. He’s always been more than just your brother’s bandmate. He’s been the one who makes your pulse quicken, the one whose presence can light up your entire day.
You've watched him with other girls, feeling a pang of jealousy each time. You've imagined what it would be like to be the one he looks at with that mischievous grin, the one he holds close in the quiet moments. And now, here you are, on the brink of something you’ve dreamed about for so long.
Your thoughts are a jumble, your heart pounding in your chest. You want to kiss him so badly it aches. The desire has been building for years, a slow burn that has now become an overwhelming flame. The way he makes you feel—giddy, nervous, hopeful—no one else has ever come close. He’s the reason you find yourself smiling for no reason, the reason your heart feels too big for your chest sometimes.
You glance at his lips, and the anticipation makes your breath hitch. You’re nervous, of course you are—this is Matty, the guy you’ve loved from a distance for so long. But beneath the nerves, there’s a deeper, more insistent feeling: the need to finally close the gap, to feel his lips on yours and know what it’s like to be kissed by him.
You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "Matty, I... I don't know what I'm doing."
"That's alright, love. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Just tell me what you want." He gives you a reassuring smile, his hand brushing against yours.
You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I want... I want to know what a good kiss feels like."
His smile widens, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. "Well, I can help with that."
You nod, feeling a rush of anticipation.
He leans in slowly, giving you time to back away if you want. But you don't. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.
The kiss is gentle at first, his lips soft and warm against yours. There's no rush, no urgency, just a slow, deliberate exploration. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.
You relax into the kiss, feeling the spark, the connection. It's everything he said it would be—electric, grounding, and utterly unforgettable.
It's like every dream, every late-night fantasy you've ever had is coming to life in this single, perfect moment. His lips are warm and soft, moving gently against yours, and it feels as if time has stopped.
Your heart is racing, pounding so hard you're sure he must feel it too. There's a nervous excitement bubbling inside you, mingling with a deep, almost overwhelming sense of joy. The kiss is tender, unhurried, and you can feel the care and attention he's giving to every movement. It's everything you imagined and more.
Years of unspoken longing, of watching him from afar and wishing for this very moment, flood through you. You've dreamed of this kiss, of being close to him like this, feeling his breath mix with yours. The reality of it surpasses every fantasy, every hopeful thought. The connection you feel is electric, a spark igniting between you that sends shivers down your spine.
His hands are gentle, one cupping your cheek, the other resting lightly on the small of your back. The warmth of his touch sends shivers through your body, grounding you in this moment. The way he holds you feels protective, yet respectful, as if he's cradling something precious.
You almost whine when he pulls back.
“How’s that?” He asks, a soft murmur, his thumb still caressing your cheek.
You don’t have any words. You have to concentrate that you won’t start crying because of all the things you felt while his lips were on yours.
“Where’s your mind gone, love?” He asks, lifting your chin, not even realizing that you dropped it. “Care to tell me?”
He stops and he puts his hand back to his own body. You’re scared now, that you’ve done something wrong, that you’re too innocent for him.
“Was the kiss shit?”
“No!” It comes out way too fast, “it was the opposite.”
You can tell he’s relieved but he still doesn’t know why you’re reacting this way.
“I just don’t- ugh,” you groan.
“Take your time.”
You would but the truth is you don’t have time.
“I don’t want it to end but I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me.” You admit and it’s a huge step for you.
“I think we have a lot to chat about hm?” He says and stands up. You don’t, you only stand up when he offers you his hand.
Matty’s hand reaches out, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours. The contact is gentle yet firm, his touch sending a thrill through your body. Your fingers are cold from the night air, but his are warm, and the contrast makes you shiver slightly.
The warmth of his hand spreads through you, soothing the anxiety that had been knotting in your stomach. His fingers fit perfectly between yours, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. It feels so natural, so right, and you can’t help but squeeze his hand gently, as if to reassure yourself that this is real.
He smiles, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and relief. "Your hands are freezing," he murmurs, his thumb lightly brushing over the back of your hand.
You laugh softly, the sound a little shaky. "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly warm out here."
“Let me talk to the boys real quick, then we can go inside yeah?”
“Sure.” You don’t know what he’s going to say to them, if he’s going to tell them the truth about where he’s going and what he’s doing but on the other hand you don’t even know what he’s doing.
He’s leaving you on the doorstep and you already pull out your keys to open the door. When he comes back you embrace him. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He's wearing that familiar smirk, his hair tousled, and you can't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looks. There's a magnetism to him, a charm that draws you in
“Your room alright to talk?” He asks as you both go inside, where it is a lot warmer. The heat is getting to you and you feel a familiar tingly feeling in your stomach.
You don’t want to wait until you can talk or kiss again or feel him on you. You want to grab his arm and pull him against you and devour him whole. But you’re too shy to let him know.
“It’s straight down the hall,” you mumble, letting him lead you upstairs, his hands now intertwined with yours again.
22:30- And you’re in your room, sitting on the bed which is fucking exciting because Matty is sitting on your bed.
He’s getting rid of his jacket and throws it on a little chair next to your dest. He’s wearing a basic black shirt with a cutout, his tattoo on display for you.
“Talk to me, I want to know what’s on your mind, and clearly there’s a lot on your mind.” You both sit on the edge of the bed and after he’s gotten rid of his jacket he grabbed your hand again.
“I don’t know where to start,” you whisper truthfully.
Matty's hand tightens around yours, and you feel a rush of nerves as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and warmth, encouraging you to speak your mind.
“I don't know how to say this," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I've... I've liked you for a while now."
He raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Is that so?" he says, his tone light.
You nod, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks. "Yeah. And I don't know... I don't know how to interpret the kiss. Why did you kiss me?"
Matty lets out a soft laugh, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Why does anyone kiss anyone?" he replies, his gaze meeting yours. "Because they want to, I s’pose."
You can't help but scoff at his nonchalant response.
“You think too much, love.” He chuckles and grabs your chin to look at him. “I kissed you because I like you as well.”
“You do?” You ask.
This is all happening very fast and you doubt his words, not believing that he likes you.
As Matty's words sink in, you feel like you're floating in a dream. Did he really just say that he kissed you because he likes you too? The thought sends a rush of warmth through your entire being, and you can't help but let out a breathless laugh.
“I do,” he nods.
“Now what?”
“Up to you, love,” your head is pounding, the room is spinning, the kiss from earlier still in your head and you just want the feeling back.
You lean forward to kiss him again, your lips finding his and his hand on the back of your neck, making sure you won’t leave his your place. You can’t breathe which makes you gasp and matty slides his tongue into your mouth.
You didn’t know that this can be hot, you go with the flow, letting your tongue brush against his in a steady rhythm. You’re getting hot, your skin is on fire and you’re sure he can feel it.
You’re panting more than Matty when you both pull back to breathe. Your pupils are already dilated and you’re ready for more. You’re never ready for anything but with Matty it just feels right.
“Can we just do this for a while?” You ask, wanting to be absolutely sure of what you’re going to ask him in a couple of minutes.
“Of course, love, it’s your pace we’re going for.” You smile at his answer but before you can kiss him again he speaks.
“Can you get on my lap, it’s more comfortable this way.” You blush but nod.
You waist no time to sit yourself fully on top of him, your legs on each side of his narrow hips. You stare at him through half lidded eyes, if you were a cartoon there would surely be hearts drawn all over them, as he captures your lips in a slow kiss. The two of you sigh and grunt into each other's mouths, moaning softly when hands met bare skin, pulling and squeezing all the right places. 
“Breathe, love, we’ve got time.”
“We don’t.”
You melt into the next kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. You feel him, he’s hard and you want to grind your hips but you have self control and you don’t know if that’s what you want.
He feels the same though, wanting to touch you everywhere at the same time, wanting to undress you and show you how much you mean to him.
He finally lets his hands wander over your sides, under your shirt and you sigh into his mouth. You still need more. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, referring to your boobs and you nod.
His hands meet your waist, run over your tummy, and up to your breasts, palming them lightly, not quite the way you are expecting. You grab wherever you can get your hands on — his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer and closer — huffing when it’s getting too much, or too little.
The kisses you share are still slow, sensual, following the rise and fall your shared breathing, but this time he follows your lead, running his hands over your thighs, your hips, grabbing your ass and dragging it over the front of his jeans, where you can feel him. You bite his lower lip, and your eyes are still closed but you can feel his smile.
“Need to tell me f’ you want something,” he says against your lips.
You hum, not saying anything but you roll your hips again, whimpering when the friction is perfect against your clothed pussy.
“Wait, love,” he makes you whine as he stills your hips. “Need to know what you’ve done.”
“Nothing more then kiss.” You say and he’s not even surprised anymore.
“Oh,” he groans, he’s fully turned on and he can’t believe it’s him who’s going to show you how perfect you can feel. “I don’t want to pressure you, I’m fine with kissing.”
“I’m not,” you interrupt, “please just do something.”
You’re begging and it drives him insane. “Alright alright, lay down for me, will you?”
You lay down on the bed and watch him get rid of his shirt, throwing it on top of his jacket. He’s crawling over you, kissing your face before moving down to your neck.
“You touched yourself before though right?”
You nod, feeling too embarrassed to let out words. He’s sucking at your neck so sweetly you’re sure you’ll forget your name.
“Can I?” He refers to your shirt and you answer with a short ‘yes.’ He pulls your shirt over your head and you reveal your black lace bra to him.
He groans, “if you want me to stop,” he says, his lips returning to your fiery skin, trailing barely there kisses down the expanse of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, hands grasping at his bare sides. “You tell me right away.” His kisses litter your throat, your collarbone, all the way to your breasts. “Understand?”
“Yes,” you moan.
“Clever girl,” the praise goes straight to your core which you are pressing against his bulge.
“Lift up—” he says, giving your thighs a light tap. You lift your hips from the mattress, allowing him room to shuffle the fabric off your legs. You assist him towards the end, fluttering your feet until you could kick the jeans to the floor. Within seconds, he is back between your thighs, this time straddling his shoulders as he settles further down the mattress. His face inches away from your cunt, now only protected by the thin cotton barrier. 
“And when you touch yourself,” he continues, fingers tracing the softest shapes on the outside of your thighs, over your hips. You can feel his hot breath through your panties, and it makes you squirm. “How many fingers do you use?” 
“Two- sometimes three, like to rub my clit though.” You are even surprised that you’re vocal but your eyes are on the clock and you know there’s no time for being shy.
“Can do that f’you, let me?”
“Yes yes.” He slides off your panties.
He never takes his lips off of yours when you feel the pads of his fingers prod at your hole, already leaking with desire. You anticipated his fingers to be much larger than yours, but when he sinks his two digits in, the stretch is satisfying. The way he works up your arousal aiding in how easy it is to slowly pump them in and out, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. 
“Matty.”
He begins to quicken his pace, the flex of his forearm curving his fingers up into that sweet spot with precision, leaving your toes to clench and your thighs to squeeze around his head.
You are begging for his name like a prayer, the only word you can find as your abdomen tightens, a subtle tremor cursing through your legs.
“You’re a dream come true.”
You brush his hair from his forehead, wanting to have a clear view of his eyes when your jaw falls slack, the euphoric high starting at your core and bursting out over the rest of you.
At first, you couldn’t move, can’t think, couldn’t breathe. But Matty keeps working thumb on your clit and his fingers inside of you through your orgasm so adamantly that your head flings back, and a lewd moan echoing off your lips.
“Fuck,” you whine and when he drags his fingers out of you, you can hear the sound of your slick.
He takes them into his mouth, licking the glistening off of his finger. “Taste so sweet, love.”
He lays completely on top of you again, he’s trying not to rut into your leg but you got him so turned on it hurts.
You whine into his mouth, wanting him to fuck you but it’s your first time and you’re nervous and your mind starts rushing again.
“I got you, love, it’s just me,” yeah that’s the fucking problem. “We don’t need to go any further since you have never.”
“My first time was shit, don’t want that for you,” he continues, now you wonder about the details but maybe he can tell you some other time.
“I want this, with you Matty, no one else.” You earn another kiss to you lips.
“Hang on then,” he stands up to grab his wallet from his jacket and he pulls out a condom, it’s cliche and it’s making you giggle that he has a fucking condom in his wallet.
He pulls his pants down and his boxers and your eyes drop down to his fully hard length which is dripping red. He’s big. Now you’re scared of how it will fit.
He puts the condom on and moves on top of you again. “I’m going slow, don’t want to hurt you now do I.”
“If I do though, you tell me or tap my head okay?”
You nod and he tuts, “tell me, love.”
“I will, I promise.”
His mouth lowers down to yours as he slowly begins sheathing himself inside you, inch by inch. He is taking it slowly, which you appreciate. Feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes at the painful but pleasurable fullness, he leans down to kiss them away.
“I will make it better yeah?, s’ normal that it hurts.”
Once he’s fully buried inside you he keeps his hips still, peppering kisses all over your face. “Shit,” you hiss, still feeling a sting.
“I know,” he keeps kissing your face, your neck, your arms to try to make it better. “Don’t worry, keep that head here with me.” He realized that you wanted to drift off again, but he keeps you in reality.
After a while the smile that adorns your lips makes him feel relieved, hating that he hurt you even for a minute. Once you are some what used to the feeling of him inside you, you lift your hips gently to show him you are ready. Matty is still hesitant with his movements, that is until you start moaning. The pain still lingers faintly, but the pleasure that’s coursing through you is enough to over come it.
“You’re such a good girl,” your hands grip his shoulders as continues to rock his hips into yours, his pace beginning to speed up. Matty is pressing a messy kiss to your lips, tongues dancing together as he makes love to you. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that this is what making love should feel like.
He brings his finger between your bodies, gently rubbing your clit. You don’t stop the constant cries from falling from your lips, head falling deeper into the pillows behind you. Matty can’t help but groan, your noises spurring him on further.
“You’re doing so good, showing me how good you feel, keep that going.”
Your nails are leaving behind crescents in the skin of his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to mind. With his available hand he slips a pillow under your hips. Providing him a deeper angle as his thrusts become sharper.
“Stay, stay Matty, stay,” you moan. You both know how you mean those words. Of course you want him to stay inside of you but the real meaning behind those words are that you don’t want him to leave ever. You can’t handle him going away.
“It’s alright, everything’s alright hm,” You can barely get a sentence out, Matty fucking any remaining thoughts from your head.
He knows you aren’t going to last much longer, as your walls repeatedly pulse around his cock. He rubs your clit faster, feeling himself starting to loose it as you scream out his name. Your orgasm shakes your frame, as he continues to fuck you through the euphoria. It only takes a few more thrusts before Matty meets his end, singing you sweet praises as he spills into the condom.
“You’ve done so fucking good, Christ,” you can’t help but smile as he nearly collapses on top of you, his lips leaving kisses anywhere he can reach.
You’re both sweaty and exhausted, as he slowly slips out of you. You try not to wince as you feel so empty, already missing the feeling of him nestled inside you. You wonder if you ever going to know the feeling.
You watch fondly as Matty ties off the condom and tosses it in bin next to your bed. You immediately reach for him once he’s done, pulling him back down onto the blankets with you. Matty lays his head on your breasts with a content sign as you stroke your hand through his hair. The only sounds are of your breathing.
00:30- and you’re cuddling in your bed, you’re clinging to him, holding on to the remaining touch he can give you.
“Are you alright, love?” He asks.
“Yes, thank you matty.”
“Nonsense,” he says, rolling on to his back to pull you on top of him, “thank you, big step for you.”
“Yeah,” you sigh in contentment.
You drape one leg over his thigh, a hand of yours traveling over his tattoos.
“Matty?” You break the silence, looking up at him. You want to tell him how you feel, how he made you feel and how you want him in your life. You don’t want this to be the last time and you don’t want him to come back in two years with some random girl. You want to be his girl.
You think about how you tell him, if you should tell him. Minutes pass and he lifts your chin to give you a kiss. “I know.” Is all he says.
You stay like this for some time, not wanting to know the time.
-
2:15- and you look outside your window to see him driving away.
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