#it's not touching his ears so he hasn't flicked it off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

changisworld · 5 months

Text

Skz biggest kinks & pleasures (maknae line)

18+,MDNI, I’m not putting smut warnings as a surprise for readers but it’s all just smut, don’t read if underage

ONLY CONTENT WARNING ILL GIVE IS ONE OF THE KINKS HAVE PISS!!!

Word count;3,335

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

hyung line version here

**this is not proofread so sorry for any errors x**

HAN JISUNG: COCK & BALL TORTURE

I genuinely cannot imagine Han having a dominant bone in his body & also cannot ever imagine this guy being 'vanilla' in the SLIGHTEST!! Whenever you guys have sex, he is always shaking, whining & drooling absolutely everywhere & he hasn't got a single bit of shame.

You both experimented sexually within the first three times you slept together. You have both experimented with vibrators, strap-ons, handcuffs, wax etc & it did the trick.. until it didn't. Han could orgasm from these things, don't get me wrong, but since he had gotten 'used' to these things, he hadn't gotten bored or anything but you could sense he wanted more now.

You have just put the small stick candle onto the bedside table after letting it drip onto his abs & perky pecs as he is handcuffed to the bedpost, his face red as he squirms slightly, humming as the wax dries into his skin, cooling down.

You settle in between his legs before crawling up his small frame, your knees touching his balls as you kiss him (full of tongue & spit obviously) when your knee moves & puts a lot of pressure on his poor, filled balls & he squeals into his mouth. You instantly move your knee & sit up, both of your eyes wide, but for different reasons.

You are scared in case you genuinely hurt him as you look down at the site, but you then notice an even bigger puddle of precum on his lower stomach, his cock twitching & jumping as he blushes, boba eyes staring at the same thing you are.

"Did you like that Hannie?" you question, voice raising at the end, not wanting to do something & scare him. His mouth opens but he stutters for a few seconds. "Uhh, I-I don't know, it's new" he word vomits out, cheeks & ears getting more impossibly red as he looks into your eyes, trying to see your reaction.

You hum at his response before your hand reaches down & you take his balls into your hand before squeezing them, not too hard but there is still force behind it which makes him hiss as his hips jerk up, his cock dribbling at the tip which makes you chuchkle.

"My baby likes having his balls hurt, hmm? what about your pretty penis too, Hannie?" you question as you put more pressure on his balls as you flick the head of his cock a few times, making him thrust his hips as he tries to escape but also get more of the feeling. He nods enthusiastically, tilting his head to hide his reactions as much as he can despite handcuffs making him unable to use his arms to cover his face.

You don't like the way he is hiding his pretty reactions so you slap his dick with the back of your hand which makes his head jolt back to its original position, making you smirk. "Tell me if it's too much, mkay? Sit pretty f'me." you tell him, joking since you know he's not going anywhere. You get off the bed & dig through the bedside drawer & return holding a small cock ring, much tighter than any other one you have both tried, never having the right moment to try it.. until now.

You straddle his thighs, you slowly grind to feel friction as you struggle due to how much the man beneath you is hissing & squirming around but eventually roll the cock ring down to the bottom of his shaft, it beginning to turn a dark reddish/ purple colour almost instantly which makes you both drool, only hans drool actually leaves his lips.

You lean over & begin kissing his soft lips as you begin to lightly dig your nails into his cock as you drag it up & down, digging harder the closer to the tip you get. He struggles to kiss you back & loud but muffled whines escape his lips, his hips jolting & his cock twitching uncontrollably. "P-pinch my b-balls y/nnie, pu-pulease" he begs, hair almost blocking his view due to how much it's sticking to him. "You're so dirty Hannie, so slutty." you remark before beginning to kiss his neck as you do as he asks, sucking a few hickies into his neck as you begin pinching his full balls before slapping them, then repeating the motion & you're convinced you can orgasm from his noises alone.

His bottom lip is the same colour as his cheeks now from all the nibbling on it he has been doing, his eyes watering & his cheeks getting stained from the tears, not even having one thought in his head anymore, which you notice.

You sit up as his legs begin thrashing around, shaking as you use your other hand to start flicking the tip of his cock, residue sticking to your fingers coming from the area as you start to pinch in a rougher way, twirling the skin in your hands as you look at Jisung, in his own world.

"This is all it took to get you all floaty? You're so weird for enjoying this, you're seriously gonna cum from getting your dick slapped?" you laugh as you ask him, not actually meaning what you're saying seeing since you could probably fill a glass with your own juices you're that turned on. You admire Han, not even expecting an answer, drool puddling the pillow as more drool is drying into his chin, just to have even more drool cover it, his cheeks soaked with tears & also sweat.

You put his entire cock in your hand as you tighten your hand around it as much as you can & he lets out a squeal as you begin jerking him off & despite his cock literally purple because of the cock ring, you are convinced the cock ring didn't do a good job as he cums in record time, it spurting out ropes of it all over your hand & his tummy, him rattling the handcuffs, trying to get away from the sensation as his eyes completely roll back, panting heavily.

You let him ride out his high & you quickly remove the cock ring, trying to not overstimulate him too much since its the poor babys first time experiencing this before you lick the cum off his tummy to avoid having to leave him before crawling beside him & letting him nuzzle his face into your chest, before falling asleep almost instantly.

FELIX: MARKING

Nothing turns Felix on more than being able to have a constant reminder you belong to each other & what better way to show one another off when you're not together than having a hickey or two on your necks?

I can't be 100% sure if he enjoys giving or receiving them more but if i had to pick one, I'd say he enjoys giving them more seeing since he has more freedom to choose wherever he wants, unlike you seeing since he is still an idol, meaning you need to be way more cautious which makes him sad since he would do anything to have loads of hickies littered all over his neck.

You are straddled on top of Felix as your lips are locked together as your lips are locked together & he is playing with your puffy clit. You are grinding against his fingers as your eyebrows are furrowed together, letting out small gasps as his fingers are working like magic.

"Fefe, inside, pretty please." you mumble through kisses & who is he to deny you? He slides his ring finger inside your wet walls as he prods around a bit to find the gummy spot & despite him having short fingers, he is good with them & only takes a few seconds to find it & as he does, he slides a second finger inside too, rings touching your lips which makes you twitch due to the coldness.

You start whimpering & you break the kiss & start to grind against his fingers as you clench around him, making him swallow deeply. He takes this opportunity to begin kissing your jawline & working his way down as he helps you work yourself towards the first of probably very many orgasms.

His lips suction to your neck as he lets his teeth take a few playful bites which make you twitch from the slight tickle, making you giggle a bit which he returns. He litters some kisses around the left side of your neck before lightly pushing your head so he can access the right size before doing the same thing.

He begins to suck on your neck, humming at the light scent of the perfume you put on earlier in the day & also because of the taste of your skin, you both think he's addicted to it.

Your fingers wiggle their way into his hair as you lightly push at his head, somehow wanting him even closer to your neck as you melt further into him if that is even possible.

You can feel his teeth grazing every once in a while against your skin which makes you leak even more arousal as you tense up as your orgasm washes over you, Felix holding onto your waist to keep you from falling off his lap due to the amount your legs are wobbling on each side of him.

Once you come down from your orgasm, Felix slips his fingers out of you & you guide his hand up to your mouth before sucking your own juices off of him as he smirks at your reddened face, admiring it.

"So pretty f'me aren'cha babe? Made you a new necklace too, want you to give me some on my thighs, princess. pleeeaaasseee" he flutters his eyelashes to you as he give you his iconic beautiful smile. You hum a 'yes' response before you're sliding off of him, legs still a bit like jelly as you pull his sweatpants down, him raising his hips to make it easier for you, pulling his boxers down too with them.

You begin to jerk him off slowly as you kiss his balls & thighs before you begin nibbling on them playfully, before giving him the same, dark purple marks he just gave you as he lets out hums of approval, giving you butterflies.

SEUNGMIN: PISS

The reason you & Seungmin have always got on well sexually is because of how much you both have in common when it comes to kinks & how much you both love to explore together, & that is how you both eventually found out how hot you both find piss to be during sex. It started off with how much & how dying he was to help you squirt & it just developed from there.

Seungmin is laying on his back with his head on the pillows of your shared bed as you are sitting on his face (another one of his biggest pleasures is eating pussy while barely being able to breath because duh) grinding against him as his tongue is working its magic, pushing you towards your second orgasm within the last five minutes.

You are whimpering out above him, pulling on his hair to get him impossibly closer to your dripping core as his hands have a firm grip on your ass cheeks, fondling them in his fingers as he tongue fucks you.

"Min-Minnie, g'na cum." you push the words out as the feeling begins to bubble over, but before it has a chance to fully do so, he removes his tongue & pushes your hips up so you're now hovering above his face as you basically scream from the frustration as you can feel the almost orgasm dissapearing again.

"You know what I want before I let you cum, baby. Don't be so nervous, we both want it, mkay? Wanna taste you as much as possible. You deserve to let go, so good for me all the time." he says to you in a soft tone as he gives your ass cheek a small slap before letting you sit back on his face.

Despite everything you have tried together, pissing on him has always made you shy, but he always reassures you before, during & after.

He begins to suckle on your clit this time, slurping up all your juices as his spit mixes with it. He lets out small moans & grunts at your taste as one of his hands leave your ass to come around to your lower stomach before he begins prodding at it & putting pressure on it, hinting at you what he truly wants.

You try to hold off for a little while longer but the added pressure makes it impossible & you let go. Your golden stream begins to dribble out of you & straight into Seungmins mouth & face, making him moan at the taste of you, but he can tell you're holding back. He bites your clit & you yelp before your piss begins to spray out, making him hum in satisfaction.

Your moans get twice as loud as they were a minute or so prior as you see your piss now soaking his face & towel beneath you, along with his hair now getting wet, the same as your fingers since they are still weaved through it & your orgasm hits you like a car. Your legs shake around his head as your stream & also orgasm comes to a stop.

Your breathing is erratic as you take deep breaths, hair stuck to your now shiny face. "Such an angel for me y/n" he breathes out, panting as he helps reposition you so you're now on the only dry patch of the bed as he leans in & kisses you, your orgasm & piss soaked all into his chin & cheeks. You taste yourself on his tongue & it makes you moan quietly.

Your hand worms its way down into his boxers but you can feel a big wet, sticky patch which makes you break the kiss & look down & the result makes you chuckle. "You came in you underwear for me Seungmin? I'm honoured." he 'tuts' before beginning to blush. "You expected me to be able to hold off when you just did that to me? You're insane." he murmurs before kissing your neck while playing with your hair.

JEONGIN: OVERSTIMULATION

Is this any surprise at all.. HAVE YOU SEEN HIS FINGERS? they're made for pleasure i swear, they're so long & just hkvedbvbv. I feel like poor Innie is still a bit too nervous to try anything too 'taboo' or 'out there' but the things you have both agreed & have tried together, you both love.

You're on the bed laying on your back as his fluffy hear & gorgeous face is between your thighs for the third separate time that day. He is making out with your clit sloppily as he has three fingers buried inside you, scissoring in & out of your leaky opening, driving you towards your second orgasm from just this session alone & to say you're a moaning mess is an understatement.

You're uncontrollably squirming on the bed & your legs are thrashing around as you're babbling random swear words & his name as but he is keeping you grounded by having a firm grip on your pelvis with his free hand as your fingers are pulling on his pretty locks.

"Innie, gonna cum again." you whimper out as your back arches off the bed as your eyes roll to the back of your head, your pussy not getting a break even for a second as Jeongins fingers keep pistoning in & out of you & his tongue simply swallows your juice & orgasm while continuing the same pace.

Your orgasm fades but the sensation doesn't. If anything, it intensifies as the over sensitivity takes over, which makes you begin to hiss & grumble. "Too-too much Innie." you pant as your fingers do their best to pull his hair & face out from your dripping hole. "Cmon, y/nnie.. you've only orgasmed twice today, can't even just take one more, hmm?" he questions, knowing you can't say no. You've already orgasmed twelve times today & you both know this but he knows you'll do anything to please him.

You give a weak nod & he gives you a cheeky smile before diving straight back in, fingers speeding up & him taking your swollen bud back into his mouth, suckling on it before moving down to make out with your other set of lips. Your squeals are bouncing off each wall in the house no doubt & your third orgasm of the past twenty minutes washes over you as you begin trembling & shaking so much Innie decides to take pity on you & unlatches himself as he gives your swollen pussy a small slap.

You are in the middle of trying to get your breath back as Jeongin grabs a pillow & places it next to you before moving you so you're hips are now resting on it & your ass is facing upwards.

"spread your legs a bit for me, hunny. You can take it, can't you? I'm so hard for you y/nnie." he groans out as he jerks himself off behind you as he helps you move your legs just enough so he can slot himself in between as he spits onto his cock for extra lube as he drags the tip of his cock up & down your burning sensitive folds, making you hiss.

He begins pushing in & the hair gets caught in your chest as he bottoms out, releasing an animalistic groan. Once he feels you clench around him a few times, he begins to start a sharp pace & you begin to bite the duvet to try silence your screams.

His long cock hits the same G-spot that his fingers have been abusing all day & it makes you yelp as you reach back & push your hand against his pelvis, trying to stop him from going as deep but he quickly yanks your wrist away before holding it against your lower back as he leans over you, back to chest as he moves your hair out of your face to kiss your cheeks as he keeps fucking into you.

"I-innie too- too much, too big, s-slow down." You whimper as your eyes scrunch closed, trying your best to hold on as much as you can to give Jeongin the chance to orgasm. "You can do it hunny, just stop running from it n take it mkay? You're clenching so tight around me y/n, so good." You get all flustered & get butterflies in your belly at his words & you keep whining as your toes begin curling as your now forth orgasm hits you & Jeongin lets out a deep moan as he cums too after feeling how tightly you clench around him & you feel the warm liquid fill you which makes your orgasm go that extra bit further.

You both lay like this for a minute, catching your breath back before he pulls out & you let out a deep sigh. Jeongin begins to move off of you but you reach & take him by the arm & using the rest of your strength to pull him back down. "stay like this, you're like a big weighted blanket." you mumble out, eyes feeling as heavy as rocks.

Jeongin chuckles before kissing your cheek but getting off you regardless & shuffling down back to your pussy, looking at the cum dripping out along with your slick. "I'll have my dinner first then we can cuddle as long as you want, jagi, okay?" he giggles before sticking his tongue out & beginning to kitten lick your pussy again. You knew this is a long night.

445 notes · View notes

aspirationalpeony · 7 months

Text

Lucky Me

Summary: You and Mel do a little experimenting after she shares a disappointing truth about her past relationships. Content Warnings: Lots of smut. :) This fic is loosely set in the same world as "Finding Beauty," but can be enjoyed independently. AO3 Link

"He wasn't good at it," Melissa says. "Joe. Makin' me come." She blushes.

It's so not her--tough, capable Melissa, fearless and demanding. You touch her cheek, brush a strand of red hair back behind her ear. She hasn't had a touch-up in a while, and there's a streak of gray growing in at her temple. You love that she can be vulnerable with you, admitting these little truths about herself, in words, in body.

"Really?" you say. You have a well, duh moment in your own head: the last time you saw Joe, he interrupted you constantly, derailing your thoughts to tell his own stories, never letting you get to the punchline of a joke. He just feels like a bad lover, inattentive and untrustworthy. Plus, you know the stuff he said to Melissa about her body.

"Yeah." She plays with the band of her smart watch, then leans forward off the couch toward the coffee table, picking up her wine glass. (It's a weeknight, so the liquid inside is grapefruit-flavored sparkling water.) "And 'specially later on, I couldn't get wet, he'd get so frustrated."

"Even though you were telling him what to do?"

Putting her glass back down, she cuts a look at you for the assumption, but it breaks out into a smile, a little sheepish. Your heart does a flip-flop at the sight. "Well, yeah."

Your fingertip traces the shell of her ear. She shivers. You can't believe Joe would get frustrated, impatient, bored of trying to give this woman pleasure. Every inch of her has some private sensitivity: the lobes of her ears, the small of her back, behind her knees, below her navel. Getting to learn these secrets has been the most incredible privilege. And it's been fun.

It's taken her a while to learn to let you, rather than tell you; to give you a chance to explore. She's so used to controlling every moment, organizing her own pleasure and yours. You love when Melissa is the boss, but you also love when she gives up the authority; when she melts into the feeling and lets you be in charge.

"What about Gary?" you ask.

She snorts. "Gary who?" Her mouth twists and she shakes her head, at the question, at herself. "I mean, sometimes I'd take his mustache for a ride, but that's about it. He didn't have, y'know. It." Her eyes flick up to yours again. You haven't missed the way they've been down this whole time, unable to hold your gaze; how her chin is tucked toward her chest, her shoulders up. "It doesn't... Bother you? Talkin' about them?"

You check in with yourself, but end up shrugging. "Not really." You've spent time with Melissa and Joe together, and there's no heat between them, just the friendly chemistry of two people who've known each other half their lives. Gary you did see once, and he looked kind of like an uncooked ham. What is there to be jealous of?

You study her face. She's still pink and a little twitchy. "Does it bother you? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You drop your hand to her nape, rubbing your thumb comfortingly along the column of her neck. She sways into you with a sigh.

"I wanna," she says. "Talk about it. I feel like I..." Her lips pinch. "Owe ya."

"No," you say, straightening up. The plastic of the couch creaks with your movement. "Melissa, you don't owe me anything. I want to talk about it if you do, but--"

"Nah, that's--" she shakes her head. "It's not what I meant. I mean, I... It's like, it's a part of... Me. Y'know." She pushes her hair back from her face. "And 'cause I love you, and--" she laughs a little--"cause you're stuck with me, I..."

Your always-active heart gives a tremor, hearing the cautious vulnerability of her voice. You slide your arm around her and pull her in.

"It ain't that big a deal," she says, muffled, lying, against your shoulder.

Even if she can't admit it--your tough-girl sweetheart, not wanting to let her soft heart show--you can. "It is to me," you say, and squeeze her.

You loosen your grip, and she tucks herself against your side. It always surprises you how small she really is. Every day she's like a cat that's making itself big, back up, fur on end, daring anyone to come at her; here she gets to shrink back down, turn back into herself, become your kitten.

"I don't get it," you say after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "It's fun making you come. I love it."

"Lucky me," Mel says, very smugly.

"I sometimes think about--" you stop. This really isn't the moment for your fantasies: yeah, you guys were talking about sex, but not in the dirty sense; it was Melissa sharing something important, something emotional, and...

"Yeah?" she says. Her voice has two registers when she's turned on: airy, almost girlish, usually when you've surprised her, and throaty, a rasp. Now it's that fainter, breathless one. The sound of it sends a tickling frisson down your spine.

"Um," you say, and it's your turn to blush. "I think about... A lot of things."

"I'm waitin'."

You huff an embarrassed laugh. It's one thing to fantasize, another thing to tell the object of your fantasy all about it. "Sometimes I think about," you say, and clear your throat, "how sensitive you are. And I want to know how many times I can make you come."

You can feel the way her breathing speeds up, her body against your side, but she doesn't speak.

"We usually stop at two," you say, "but I think you can take more. I think you can take a lot more. And--sometimes, I think about how little it takes, like, when you're right there. Like I can just breathe on your clit and you'll come. I think about getting you there and telling you 'no.'"

Her breath catches.

"I bet you'd go crazy." You're smiling a little. You touch your mouth, tapping your lower lip, thinking of it. "You'd cuss me out, you'd yank my hair. You'd probably try to finish yourself off. I might have to tie you up to stop you."

"Oh," she says.

You risk a glance at her face. She's looking up at you from where she's leaning against your side, her green eyes glassy, her cheeks pink, her lips parted.

"You like that, baby?" You slide your hand down her back and feel the muscles shift as she moves, pushing herself up, then throwing a leg over you, settling onto your lap.

Having her like this is perfect. She used to hold herself up on her knees, not letting you take her weight, until you got her to understand that you loved the pressure of her body against yours, that there was no such thing as too much of her.

She dips her head and kisses you. It's not a starter kiss, warming you up; she kisses you like you're inside her now, deep and filthy, putting her tongue in your mouth with no foreplay. You groan as her hand cups your neck, feeling the prickle of her manicured nails against your skin.

"You think about me like that a lot?" she asks you when she's letting you catch your breath. The words are low, your faces close, like it's a secret someone could overhear.

"Yeah," you admit. Your hands slide over her hips to grip her ass. She gives an encouraging little motion when you squeeze. "I love thinking about what I could do to you..." Her breath hitches again. "What you'd enjoy."

"You get off on it?"

"Yeah, I do," you say. "I get off on getting you off."

Her eyelashes flutter. She makes a noise like a whimper. You have a flash of inspiration, and before you can second-guess yourself, you take her hand from your neck, the other from your shoulder, and pull them behind her back.

She gasps. It's an arrow of electricity right to your clit. Her eyes open wide, searching for yours, as you gather her wrists into one hand. It's not a very strong grip--she could yank away from you easily--but it pulls her shoulders back and leaves her chest thrust forward.

"Is this okay?"

She nods.

"You have to tell me."

"It's okay," she says. Her voice has dropped into that second register of pure arousal, throaty and low. "It's... It's good."

"Did Joe ever do this to you?" You don't know what makes you bring him up. Not jealousy, but... Maybe curiosity. Maybe wondering if he ever took the time to catalogue Melissa's reactions, to think through what would really turn her on, if he ever gave that much of a shit.

She chuckles breathlessly. "Like to see him try," she mutters. Her blush is traveling down her throat and blotching her chest.

You follow its path to the three buttons at the front of her blouse. You watch her chest start to heave as you work them open with your free hand. They expose the center gore of her bra and a hint of the silky curve of its cups.

You palm one breast roughly, squeezing. She groans. You can just feel her hardening nipple through the layers of fabric separating you. You thumb it, pinch hard, to make sure she can feel it, turning her next moan into a whine.

Her hips rock into your lap, trying to get friction. You lean back to look at her: disheveled, red, her hair spilling everywhere, her lip gloss blurry from kissing.

"You're so fucking sexy," you tell her, voice low, making her moan again.

You'd love to finger her, but there's no lube, and she's in leggings pulled up high over her hips, with not a lot of room between the two of you to get inside them. You slide your hand between her legs and over her covered sex.

She pushes down into your palm, hard, as you nose the tender inner curve of one breast, tracing your lips against the edge of her bra. Pressing through her leggings, you can feel the plump shape of her cunt. You trace those folds down, then up, over her clit.

"Oh, fuck," she breathes as you start rubbing. "Oh, fuck..." She shifts restlessly; you think she might pull her wrists away, but instead she arches toward you, drops her head back, inviting a bite to her throat, which you give. You suck soft skin into your mouth, scrape of your teeth, nibble, move down, find another spot, repeat. You can't leave marks, but there are blotches of satisfying pink where you've touched her.

"You getting close?" You work your thumb against her clit.

"Uh huh," she says, weak and needy. She picks her head up again and there's a lost, fogged look of pleasure on her face as she meets your eyes.

You hold her gaze. "Tell me when you're there," you say. "When you're right there. Okay?"

Her brow creases as she tries to focus. You wonder if she's ever tried to do this before, parsing out stages to her pleasure, or if she's always just gone up and over, never thinking about how she got there.

"I--I--I think I'm--" her voice is wobbly.

You pull your hand away. She whines and her hips jab down toward your lap, seeking a touch that isn't there. You rub her thigh, slide your hand up, over the soft curve of her belly and down to press against her mons; her hips jolt again.

"Fuck you," she says feebly.

You rub your thumb back and forth, far above where she wants it. You know she can feel the contact here in her cunt, a phantom pressure to remind her how empty she is, how close she was.

"More?" you ask.

She squirms and nods. When you give her no response, she huffs a sigh, rolls her eyes, and says, "Yes, fine, yes, more, oh--shit--"

You've found her clit again. You know this time she'll already be sensitive, and she might not be able to tell you when you need to stop. You focus on watching her: the glazed look in her eyes before she shuts them, her parted lips, her frantic breaths, her rocking hips.

You time it; you pull your thumb away. She gives a frustrated cry and squirms in your lap. You take pity and give her a distraction, rubbing your cheek against her breast, finding the hint of her pebbled nipple, the one you neglected before, and biting hard. You feel the elasticity of her bra's cup more than you feel her flesh, muting the sting of your teeth, but it makes her keen.

"You've got no fucking clue how hot you are," you tell her. You bite again and tug, drawing out another delicious sound. "I haven't even taken your clothes off. Look at you. I want to do this to you forever."

Your thumb at her clit again, this time so lightly it barely counts. "You want to come, don't you?"

Her wrists twist in your grasp, but don't pull away. She says, all breathless, angry bravado, "What do you think?"

"I think I could stop right now." She gasps, though you don't stop gently rubbing her clit. "Even though I want to make you come. And after that, I want to take you upstairs and eat you out. I want to suck on you and get you all over my face. I want--"

"Oh, shit, I," she says weakly, her hips starting to twitch.

Realizing, you say, "Just from this?" She's really almost there again? "Fuck, you're incredible. Should I stop?"

"No," she whines.

"You want it harder?"

"Yes!"

You give her what she wants. Finally, she pulls her wrists out of your grip so she can grab your hand and shove it fully against her cunt, letting her ride your palm to her orgasm. Melissa's always noisy, but this time, she's loud, the sound of her desperate cry huge in the living room.

"Oh, fuck," she says faintly as she sags down onto your lap. "I, oh..."

"You did so good," you murmur to her and rub her back, grateful to have both hands again. She buries her face in your neck and clings to you, breathing hard. She mumbles something. "What, baby?"

She picks up her head a little. "I said, 'yeah, you too.'"

It makes you snort. It's a funny mix of tenderness, affection, and gratitude you feel, knowing that even after an orgasm that took her like a runaway train, she'll still make sure to remind you of your place. Can't ever get too smug around Melissa.

You trace a hand up and down her back, finding the hem of her blouse and rucking it up so you can touch her bare skin underneath. She's hot against your palm and it makes you sigh.

"You want to go upstairs and keep going?" you ask, mouth against her ear.

"I wanna recover first," she says blearily. "What the hell was that?" She sits up a bit in your lap and you have room to reach around her and pick up her water from the table.

"A little taste," you say.

She brings the glass to her lips and sips, eyes narrowed, watching you the way kung fu heroines watch their enemies, prepared to bust out their fists at any moment.

"Of what I've been thinking about," you add. You rub her lower back. "I think you liked it."

"I think you gotta be crazy to get off on somebody not letting you come," she says, then scowls. "Which I guess makes me crazy."

"I guess it does." You can't smother your smile. "You're okay, though?"

"What do you mean? I came, didn't I?"

"I mean, sometimes emotions can get weird," you say, "after doing that kind of stuff. You get a lot of hormones and chemicals in you and they can make you feel..." You shrug.

"You got a lot of experience with 'this kind of stuff'?" Now her gaze is accusing. "You been holdin' out on me?"

"No, not a lot of experience. A little, maybe." You hold her hips, rubbing your thumbs over their soft curves. "A little experience. And a lot of things I want to do to you."

Her whole body shudders. She reaches back to put her water down, then loops her arms around your neck and kisses you. It's her post-coital kiss, lazy and loving, the hunger more muted.

"Gee," she says breathlessly when you part, and repeats herself, a grin curving her lips: "Lucky me."

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #sorry for any editing mishaps... i just really wanted to write but WIPs were a struggle!#so fired this off very quickly #i hope you can enjoy even though it's quite short/slapdash

488 notes · View notes

nxtaliaistyping · 16 days

Note

okkk but hear me out, that car scene where lady raven was talking to him like his mom…but with x reader and hes more of a sub…

Using Cooper Adam's mommy issues against him

18+ nsfw, handjob, threat of violence, sub!cooper, dom!reader

You couldn't believe it, your boyfriend was the butcher. Sure you didn't know a lot about his personal life, with him being much older than you. But he was always sweet with you, gentle with his kids...a firefighter for gods sake.

But now he has his hand on your shoulder, leading you to his car after you stumbled on something you shouldn't. You heart is pounding as you settle into the passenger seat, looking into Cooper's eyes; now cold and unfeeling as he smiles at you.

"There, there's no use trying to get anywhere. I'm in control."

As he gets into the driver's seat, you swallow and weigh your options. Having followed the butcher's killing spree in the papers, you remember that psychologist talking about her profile for the suspect. Without thinking, you start to speak.

"Cooper no."

He stops, a little taken aback by your sudden tone.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said no Cooper." you affirm, hoping you're masking the fear in your voice as you speak, "This is not how you behave."

You can clearly see on his face he's taken aback, before he laughs. "Oh please, you think you can boss me around? Really?"

"Yes Cooper. Good boys don't talk to women like that."

That single praise makes him do something he never does...he stutters. It's slight, but you notice immediately.

"w-what are you talking about? You listen to me-"

"No, you listen to me Cooper." you demand, and you realize that while he's holding a pair of handcuffs, he hasn't asked you to put them on. "I'm disappointed in you. Disappointed you didn't tell me what you were doing."

He blinks, not the response he thought. He swears he'd seen the fear in your eyes, he’d expected you to beg, to plead, to cry just like his other victims did. But you weren't a victim, he was quickly realizing, as he squirms a little in his seat and runs a hand through his hair.

You take the opportunity to lean towards him, placing your hand high on his thigh. His eyes immediately go to your hand as he swallows thickly.

"What do you say Cooper?"

"I'm...sorry."

You praise him gently, running your hand up and down his thigh. He tenses beneath your touch, but you notice his growing bulge in his trousers. Okay...this could work.

"It's okay, I know you just reacted without thinking." you assure him, before your run your hand up to palm at his clothed cock. He moans quietly, his head falling back against the car seat for a moment. Mind racing, he scrambles to regain control in his own brain but the sensations are too much, and he's lulled into a headspace he's not used to. And the heel of your palm feels so damn good against his bulge.

"Please..." he says quietly, not knowing what he's begging for. But you know.

You unbuttons his trousers and pull them down, before freeing his hard cock from his boxers; he hisses as the air hits it, so sensitive it hurts despite the fact it's all happened so quickly. Wrapping your delicate fingers around the shaft, you settle for a slow pace up and down as you mutter soft praises and reassurances in his ear. Telling him you don't care that he's the butcher, that it's okay to be his true self around you, it's okay to be a monster as long as he returns home to you.

Cooper's hips twitch as you give him a handjob, small uncharacteristic whimpers falling from the older man's throat. Your hand is so soft, so small compared to him, and you're treating him so sweetly it's making his head spin. As you speed up, running your thumb along the head before using your other hand to fondle his heavy sack, his breaths becoming much heavier as he grips the door handle.

"Oh please...don't stop."

You smile, flicking your wrist as you jerk him off, squeezing his balls slightly and reveling in the moan that's ripped from him. "It's okay, you can let go for me Cooper."

After a few more moments, he's making a mess, cumming hot stripes of cum all over his jumper as he twitches and squirms in the seat. Sweat causes his hair to stick to his forehead, as he blinks slowly while he comes down. Looking at the stains, you look at him before giving him a normal smile, as if you didn't just make him cum so he wouldn't kill you.

"Come on, let's go back inside and get your clothes in the wash so it doesn't stain."

He just nods a little, as you get out of the car and watch as he follows you a little sheepishly. At least you know how to handle him now. Everything you said was the truth of course, you really didn't mind that he was the butcher after all.

#cooper adams #cooper adams smut #cooper adams x reader #cooper adams trap #trap #trap movie #trap 2024 #trap cooper adams #cooper adams x you #josh hartnett #josh hartnett smut #josh hartnett trap #josh hartnett x reader #josh hartnett fic #cooper adams fic #villain kink #josh hartnett fanfic #cooper adams fanfic

114 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 5 months

Text

...And The Deep Blue Sea

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 13.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW gore, CW injury, CW guns.

A/N: it's the end.

Navigation

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 15 >>>

“Hello, little birdy.” Mathias cackles like there's a pebble stuck in his throat.

He roams his sickly yellowed eyes at your body, sending shivers down your spine with every glance. “Or should I say Viscountess?” He laughs again. “You wear that gown well,” his eyes flick behind you, “Eugene, my boy!” The man beside you stiffens up. “Come get your bride and sit with me.” He drums at the table. “The Food is comin’, I heard that the bride and groom usually don't get to eat after everything is said and done. We don't want you to starve, ain't that right, lieutenant?”

The eye patched man standing in the corner nods slowly. His hands are neatly tucked behind his back like an obedient dog waiting for his master.

“You're alive?” You say breathlessly, teeth gritted, knuckles clenching tight on the skirt of your dress. Pulse rapidly thrumming, sending alarm bells to ring in your ear.

“‘course I am! No one can kill the king's flame, not even the red hydra,” he spits the name out. “or even a real fuckin' hydra.” Chuckling, scars mar his neck and hands, the only visible ones under his navy blue officer's uniform. It's still red and angry, you can tell some parts of it hasn't healed yet. You plan to add more, whether it's by your bare hands or a piece of cutlery; you're prepared to hit him where it hurts.

Numerous medals are on display on his jacket, shining under the sunlight filtering through the closed curtains. “Can you believe it? I go out to hunt the red hydra and I get myself a pretty bird.” He continues annoyingly, voice crackling, a dry cough escaping his pale mouth.

Mathias notices you still standing in the doorway, his eyes are dull, like a hurricane that's about to devastate a whole town. Eugene notices and he reaches for your arm to sit you down. You flinch away from his touch, eyes trained on the man before you.

“I said sit down!” Mathias’ booming voice rings out in the dining hall, his fist slamming on the table, champagne flutes fall over like dominoes with a harsh crack. “Fuckin’ grab her, Eugene! Don't be such a fuckin’ cock and grab her!”

“Y-yes uncle.” Your ‘fiance’ tentatively guides you towards the chair by your elbow, you brush off his touch, angry eyes gazing at his cowardly face.

Sitting down on the right side of Mathias, you intentionally choose a chair as far away from him as possible. But before you could sit, he clicks his tongue, finger wagging in front of his scarred face.

“Not there, gorgeous.” He pats the seat closest to him. “Right here.”

“No,” you stand your ground, shaking from anger, or is it fear that climbs in your stomach and crawls upwards to your quickening heart?

You refuse to get near the monster as Eugene stares across from you with anxiety in his eyes.

“Sit. Down.” Mathias enunciated, “or Lieutenant Dubois here will make you sit down.” Said uniformed man grunts, hazel eye roaming across the table, gaze boring a hole in between your twitching eyes. The sheath of his cutlass is engraved with tally marks among the ornate laurels and lions. “You already know what he'll do to you, he's quite amazing with a sharp object.”

“I am too.” You clench your jaw, still refusing to sit.

To your surprise, Mathias grins, a sickeningly hideous smile, teeth bared, tongue lapping at the gold in place of the fangs, lips wrinkling, he chuckles softly as something passes by his yellowed eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you just reminded me so much of your father.” He leans on the back of his chair, hands gesturing towards you. “I literally saw him instead of you! It's fuckin' crazy innit?” He shoves Eugene by the shoulder, the viscount flinches, wincing at the ache. “Y’know, I recognized you— wait, lieutenant! Grab her and make her sit down! This story deserves to be listened to properly.”

“No!” You try to run back to the hallway, but the man is too fast for you. With the heavy skirt and weak leg, you didn't have a chance against him. “Motherfucker—!” With his arms around your torso, you kick and flail about, Mathias gives him a look and the man headbutts you from behind.

The room spins as he carries you towards the chair. The ceiling swirls, ears flooding with your rushing blood. With your muddled hearing, you swear you heard Eugene defend you, and you swear you heard a slap right after.

With a heavy thunk, the door closes behind you, your exit closes behind you. The only remaining door is across you, it's currently closed but you're sure it's unlocked judging by the draft coming from it. Head still aching, vision warbling, the one eyed man stands in front of the only exit.

“Now where was I?” Mathias continues like nothing happened. You glare at him through the corner of your eyes, your skin feels like spikes from the goosebumps rising above. “Ah, yes! I recognized you on the ship, before a literal myth came eating my crew. By the way, what the fuck was that, huh? Fuckin' weird, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You say weakly.

“Anywho, You looked a lot like your father but with your mother's beauty. I knew them, your father more so. Once upon a time he was my lieutenant, he was pretty good at it too. Too bad he had to disobey orders and marry above his station.”

“Why don't you ever shut up?” You lay your elbows on the table, arms flat, slyly covering the steak knife under your arm. “Are you a narcissist? Do you like hearing your own voice—?”

Mathias hurls a salad plate at your head. You dodge it in time before it shatters on the floor. You don't have time for this, you need to get to Hobie immediately, before it's too late. You have no plan, no weapons, but you'll be damned if you don't try. And you can still hear his screams echoing in your ears, as if he's already dead, as if he's already haunting you.

You need to try. Or it'll be your end too.

The monster before you clears his throat. “Don't be rude.” He points a finger at you.

You now notice how worse for wear he is, under the white paint and powdered wig lies injuries that haven't healed since the fight. You smell it, the herbs hastily smudged, and the rot in his flesh. It seeps into his bones, poisoning his body. You just wish it'll eat at him faster.

You're suddenly not afraid anymore.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted. Your father, well, he fought a good fight on the Demeter. He stood his ground till the very end until a dozen or so bullets pierced his skin.”

The crescent in your palms gets deeper.

“He was smart though, smarter than you probably. You see, he rigged the ship to blow. He had the fuckin' balls to do it even though his entire family was inside. Ain't it funny—?” The double doors swing open.

The butler interrupts his speech, a handful of staff bring in an entire chicken at his plate. One pours him a glass of wine before he snatches the entire bottle and places it right next to his glass. Hot soup and meat pie is brought in also, the smell is appetizing but you place your hand over your plate wordlessly, telling them you're not hungry at the moment. How could you be when Mathias eats in front of you like he hasn't eaten in decades?

The tension is thicker than the cream placed in front of Eugene.

He munches loudly as he takes apart the roast. String of meat flies all over, the former white table cloth turns brown when he wipes his hands on it. Eugene spares you a look, eyes staring forlornly at his empty plate. His hand inching closer towards his goblet before deciding to just drink the ruby liquid.

You're on your own.

The wolves devour their fill whilst you plan your escape. Your mind screams for you to run, to run where no one can find you. The voice echoing in your ears is right at one thing, but you'll never hide anymore, not from Mathias, not from your past, not from anyone. You'd face it with fire in your veins just like your father had.

Mathias snorts, and you wish it was a choke. “He fought well, got a few of my men. How do you think the lieutenant here lost his eye?” He points at the stoic man using a half eaten chicken leg. “Your father was brilliant with a sword. A crack shot with a blunderbuss too. But, eh, it was all in vain. He shouldn't have messed with the crown and polite society.”

He continues to loudly eat, hands slick with oil, mouth full of meat. “You see, your mother was that fuckin' woman. Wealth, looks, title, she had it all. And the king wanted it too, greedy bastard he is.” There it is, the confession. But you still listen because you know something else will come after. “But your mum decided to run off and elope with the bastard son of an unpopular lord. The king was pissed off.”

Mathias laughs roughly. “But he got over it.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could hide it, the devil noticed.

“I knew you ain't as smart as your dear old dad.” He smiles, you can see the meat stuck in his golden teeth.

“He was the crowned prince,” Mathias rips open the chicken in half messily. “And he needed a wife from one of the big families.” He doused the meat in salt, “and the greedy fuck chose someone who didn't want him, just for the fun of it. Who could blame her, all he ever wanted was a brood of children to pass on his blood.” He takes a generous bite, teeth meeting flesh, the sound of his chewing makes you hasten your plan. “Thank fuck Frederick's father ain't as stupid as his son. That man sought out the opportunity when given to him and fuckin' took it. Too bad he didn't live long enough to see the fruit of his labour.”

Anger settles in your stomach, fury in your eyes and flesh, you want to damn him, and everyone involved. Especially her.

“It's her isn't it?” You say as you slither your hand towards the ceramic bowl. “The Queen, it was all her.”

Mathias smiles genuinely, “You finally got it, little bird!” He claps. “She's fuckin' brilliant, and so are her coffers. The pay,” he whistles out, “the pay was magnificent, still is by the way. I didn't even need to become an admiral for the money when I'm earning more than a fuckin’ duke.” Kicking Eugene under the table, he makes his godson choke on his drink. “See, I told you the little duchess here is just your type.”

His voice fuels your fury. Each vowel is grating in your ears, every wheezed breath he takes is a reminder that he still lives. A reminder that your knife isn't stuck in his throat.

“It ain't as bad as you think it is,” The navy man continues. “Married to my boy, you'd have a title, a home and a decent family. At least now you don't have mister Brown crawling all over you. He'd be dead by sundown, and I can't wait to see it.”

Mathias thinks his words would make you do something drastic that'll have his hands wrapped around your neck. But you've learned your lesson, so you bide your time, taking their attention away from your wandering hands.

“You're dying.” The heat from the bowl matches the fire in you. Your voice doesn't shake, nor your resolve. “Even with all the coin she gave you, you still can't save yourself. You are riddled with sepsis, I can smell it on you. A collapsed lung from the way you cough, and whatever the fuck disgusting shit you have in you. You are dying, rotting from the inside like how it's meant to be. And the world will be better off without you. They will forget you, first, your poor family, then your men, then the entire country. Even your bitch of a queen will forget you. Then the world. But Hobie will be remembered. His name will be etched in the annals of history while your name fades into obscurity.” You laugh humorlessly, teeth bared, eyes aflame. “And I can't wait to see it.”

He seethes in his seat, hand clenching around the cutlery. The devil doesn't show his anger bluntly this time, he hides it because you struck a nerve. With a grin, you promise to Hobie and to your parents that Mathias won't live to see the day end.

“Do you remember what I told you in the revenge?” You continue with a smile that sends shivers down the spine of everyone in the room. The quiet lieutenant remembers the day he lost his eye. “I intend to fulfill that promise.”

Through a clenched jaw, he coughs again, hiding his weakness from everyone in the room and how a drop of blood stains his pale lips. “I love it when women show me their claws. But I can't stay. I would love to see the ceremony and the festivities, but I can't miss the execution. That's why I came here earlier so I could pass on my blessings.” Mathias wipes his mouth clean harshly. “If you'd excuse me, I places to be—”

Before he could stand up, you quickly fling the bowl right on his painted face. The hot soup splashes on his skin, melting the white powder off his face. With his guttural scream, within a split second before his man could intervene, you take the steak knife and plunge it into his hand and into the table.

The screams he let out was music to your ears, holding the hilt of the weapon, you twist it before yanking it out of his flesh, tearing his hand in half, ripping the nerves and letting waterfalls of crimson into the white tablecloth. With a determined yell, you aim for his throat.

Mathias recovers a second before steel meets his skin, he backhands you with the same injured hand. The knife falls off your hand. Pain blooms on your face, and you go blind as your head hits the floor. His blood dirties your pristine white gown, splotches of red drenching the bodice.

Your left eye stings, cheek heated from the harsh slap. Despite your lungs gasping for air through your possible broken nose, you crawl over to Mathias. Your scorn drives you to grab his leg, pulling him down with a strong tug, he falls hard on his back, splitting the floorboards in half. Taking the crown off your head, you use the pointy end to stab his leg and his knee in quick succession. He yells and yells but you don't stop. The ichor from his wounds drenches your face and hands, you see red, and you see his untimely death in your blood soaked hands.

Climbing further up, you use the opportunity to aim at his groin. But a pair of arms stops you before you could hit your mark. Thrashing, slashing the hands around your shoulders, you mark the man with the same bloodied tiara.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Mathias stands up, limping, he unsheathes his lieutenant’s cutlass from his hip. With a stomp over your thigh, he pushes in the heel of his boot as you let out a cry. The steel is pointed at your heart, his eyes demand blood for blood. “I should've just killed you instead—”

A shot rings out, the bullet hits the blade, breaking it in half. Mathias flinches before he smiles at the one who shot him. There on the opposite doors, stands Miguel O’hara with his gun raised, barrel aimed at his former comrade. Lyla stands next to him, her own blunderbuss raised towards the man holding on to you.

“Let her go and there won't be any more bullets flying around.” Miguel's voice is steady, back straight, eyes flicking over to you writhing on the floor.

“You better listen, cyclops, O’hara here might hesitate but I won't. Let our girl go.” Lyla reassures you with a nod, and you bite your captor's hand.

You tear his flesh open with your teeth, ichor filling your mouth as he hisses in pain, dropping you unceremoniously on the floor.

Mathias looks at you with wide eyes, disbelief in his burned face. “I guess you learned a thing or two from your man.”

You spit out the chunk of flesh whilst your eyes never leave his. Crimson dripping off your lips like rain, teeth the same colour as the wine spilled on the table, you smile at him.

“Come near me and I'll show you what else he taught me.”

The man before you laughs genuinely, yet his eyes never leave yours, making sure you stay away from him. You're more than ready to close the gap. The cutlass is still trained on you, you're about to pounce when Miguel calls your name with urgency. As if he can read your mind.

“Your girl is fuckin' insane ain't she?” Mathias addresses Miguel, like how a family member speaks about a niece he hasn't seen in years. Proud, there's a sense of pride laced in his tone. “Just like her dear old parents, eh?”

“I'm warning you, Mathias.” Miguel keeps an eye out for the uniformed man behind you. “Take your captain, Alexander, before I put a bullet in his heart.”

Mathias scoffs, legs shaking from the wounds you caused. “Please, you'd shoot me? You didn't have the balls back then, why would you do it now?”

Miguel raises his gun higher, aiming for the man's head. “Because she wasn't there,” he cocks his head towards you, “you didn't have a weapon aimed directly at my goddaughter.” Eyebrows knitted together in anger, his hand doesn't shake, eyes glowing red in the sunlight. “Now let her go.”

Mathias posture sags, “fine, but only because I've got an event I cannot miss.” He nods at his godson. “Make sure you're married to her by the end of the day or there will be consequences.” He clicks his tongue, Eugene melts into his chair, face turned away from you and his godfather.

Mathias gives you one last look. “Happy marriage, birdy.”

“You're going to die today Mathias, one way or another I'll get my hands on you.” You flick your eyes towards the man clutching his hand. “Death is coming for you too,” you say nonchalantly. “I'll finish what my father started.”

They leave with their fronts turned to you, not even twisting around to show you their backs that are susceptible to your attack. Or in this case, your teeth.

Lyla appears next to you, helping you by the crook of your arm. Pain lingers on your leg and face. “Christ, he burst your fucking capillaries.”

Sure enough, you feel the sting in your eye, a throbbing pain that leaves you nauseous. Miguel, tentatively closes the distance, weathered hand carefully holding your chin. You wince, as he moves your face.

“Fuck, you need to see a doctor.” He says whilst you flinch away from his touch.

“I'm alright, I need a horse.” You begin to walk away, Miguel and Lyla follow close behind you. “And I need my fucking knife.” I need him back, your mind whispers to you. “I need to save him.”

“His execution is in two hours.” Eugene says meekly, and you stop in your tracks. “I heard the officers talk, they're not going to hang him for his crimes, the crown gave him the ax.”

With quick steps, you take Eugene by his collar, gripping tightly as you spill venom. Miguel tries to hold you back but you blindly kick his leg.

“Delay them.”

“I can't—”

“Do you want to be under his boot your entire life? If we marry I'll be crushed with you,” You stare determinedly at his scared eyes. “because that will happen if you don't help. You said you cared about me, then help me and all will be forgiven. Please, you're a viscount, you have the means to help.”

He sniffs, lips curled into a frown. “I'm sorry, I-I can't—”

You scoff, letting him go. “If I fail, Mathias lives and that means you'd be dead too.” Walking away, leaving him cowering in his seat, your small entourage follows.

“Where are you going?” Miguel matches your stride, walking next to you, he stares with concern. “Y/N, where are you going?”

“To my room to pamper my nose.” With adrenaline coursing through you, his face flashes in your mind with every step. Save him, your mind yells, save him, save him, or it'll be the end for you too.

“Cousin?” Collette asks as you make your way towards the apartments where your chambers lie. She roams her worried eyes around your bloodied wedding gown, her hands that are clutching a bouquet of flowers shakes. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I stabbed Mathias and bit through a man's hand.” You say without stopping, she squeaks in place.

John stops in his tracks, “w-what the fuck happened?” The twins are both dressed to the nines, all fine fabrics and hair all made up. “Cousin!” He calls after you whilst you don't stop for anyone.

“Thanks for the hot tip, kids!” Lyla yells back to your cousins. “A bit of advice, tell the catering staff the wedding’s off!” She cackles. “Save me a macaroon though!”

“They called you?” You ask, your heeled feet ache but you press on. “Where were you Lyla?”

“I'm sorry, duchess, I overslept.” She shrugs. “But I'm here now ain't I? Also I got Miguel here so...”

“You should stop, Y/N.” Miguel says sternly. “You're hurt—”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

You whirl around to face him. Anger flares up once again. “You should've shot him where he stood.” You poke his sturdy chest roughly. “He's the one who killed them, yet you let him get away!”

“I know, I— there are repercussions to killing someone. Especially if they're an officer.” He falters but he composes himself. “Revenge is not the answer—”

“He killed them, Miguel!” Your broken voice echoes out into the vast hallway. “Him and the queen are the reason why they're dead, and you let him get away so he could kill Hobie.”

“It was the queen? Not—”

“Yes, not the idiot king.” You turn around to continue your trek. You curse the large estate. “I have no idea why she did it, but I'm gonna get her too. But I won't live to see that day if I don't save him.” Your tone falters as you pass by your mother's portrait. “I need to save him, even if it's the last thing I do.”

“You won't succeed.” Miguel stands in front of you to stop you, and you roll your eyes, wanting to kick him in the groin. “He's a pirate, Y/N, he won't do the same for you.”

“He has, and he would. I need to try, I can't let him die.” You choke back a sob. Reality crashes around you. What would you do once you get there? Will you be able to save him on your own? You have no one, you have no idea where the crew is, and he's going to die. You can't live with yourself if you don't try.

“Y/N.” Miguel says your name like a reprimand.

“You said back in the carriage that I can leave whenever I want, all I needed to do was ask.” You chuckle without humour. “Here’s me asking, Miguel.”

“You'll die, Y/N, I can't lose you too.”

“And I can't lose him.” Tears gather in your eyes. “If no one will save him then who will? I have to go whether you like it or not.”

“The people will,” Lyla pipes up, she casually leans against the wall, checking her nails. “there have been…whispers since they announced his execution. If you go, I'm sure you won't be alone.”

You face the taller man again. “See, I have help—”

“Rumours aren't enough! Don't you get it? You're better off marrying Thompson at this point.” You blink in surprise. He backtracks. “I–I didn't mean it that way, I meant, I'd rather see you settled than dead.”

“You might not be as bad as Mathias, but you might as well be.” You brokenly say. Miguel's face falls at your words. “You claim to love my parents and me by extension, but you're complicit,” you spit out the word full of venom. “you're only helping them by not letting me go. I don't want to be settled, Miguel.” You shake your head. “It isn't love if you make me.”

Miguel visibly shatters in front of you. None of the composure he showed to Mathias is left in his body. He hasn't seen this much devotion since your parents. He hasn't seen this much love since he felt their presence. He hasn't felt this hurt since his daughter left this world.

“You had time to grieve for them, I didn't.” You push him out of the way, controlling your sob. “Please don't stop me, or I'll fight you like how I fought Mathias.” You open the doors to your chambers.

Miguel lingers outside as you and Lyla make your way inside the familiar room. The man that has your dagger sits in front of the vanity, the large man is currently trying on a spare tiara, and is wearing one of the ruby earrings.

“You can keep those,” Your sudden voice makes him jump away, large eyes staring at you with slight embarrassment. “I won't tell a soul, just take them, give me my dagger and get out of Hazelside.”

The cogs in his head move, swallowing thickly, he nods curtly. “Can I keep the necklace too?” He asks gruffly.

“Sure,” You shrug, Lyla stifled a giggle.

Wordlessly, he shoves a ruby necklace in his pocket, then he unsheathes your dagger and places it on the vanity.

“We good, duchess?”

“Actually,” you have an idea. “You're a muscle for hire, correct?” You've noticed how he doesn't move like the other foot soldiers do, or the guards for Hazelside. His disheveled uniform solidifies your theory. The man nods proudly. “How would you like to take my entire jewelry box in exchange for you and your men's services?”

“That depends, what kind of work are we talkin’ ‘bout?”

Lyla adds to the conversation. “Murder of some pompous nobles and free a bunch of pirates. With a main focus on the red spider of course.”

“Kill the red spider too?” He asks, a thick eyebrow raised.

“No!” You say quickly, “free him and kill anyone who stands in the way.” You mutter a curse under your breath. “I don't have time for this.”

The mercenary thinks once again, he seems to be weighing the pros and cons.

Stepping closer, you practically breathe down his neck. “I'll throw in my shoes and gowns too,” you raise a hand for him to shake. “As long as you'll be there before the execution starts, and you keep my uncle and aunt distracted, scare them is all. Just don't touch my cousins or the staff.”

The scarred man chuckles deeply. “An offer I cannot refuse, duchess.” He clasps your hand, shaking it once. “Creating chaos is our main specialty.”

“Yes and I saw a glimpse of that in the barn.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, eyes lit with tamped down anger. “You better hold your end of the bargain, or you'll have my dagger in your throat instead of my necklace.”

“‘course, my lady. My men will be there.” He leaves with a grin, shoving Miguel by his shoulder.

“What just happened?” Your godfather asks as you lift your skirt to rip the metal of your petticoat off using the dagger. He turns around, closing the doors to your chambers and shuts his eyes while still turned around.

“Our girl here just used her charisma to strike a bargain. Oh they grow up too fast.” Lyla dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear in her eye. “Don't forget to change your shoes, my lady.”

You stare at yourself in the vanity, blood coats the front of your gown, a smattering of crimson coats the lace, splashes of ichor paints the front of the bodice right next to the pretty embroidery. Your face isn't any better, the makeup the handmaidens painted you with is still there, but now it coincides with Mathias' drying blood. It drips down from your cheeks down to your neck, it hides the gold underneath the crimson. Your left eye shares the same shade, capillaries burst, spreading your blood into the whites of your eyes. The gloves meant to hide the callouses and fresh scars are sticking to your skin, drenched in ruby, drenched like the floors of the revenge.

You leave it on, a reminder of your goal.

“I haven't forgotten.” Tossing the heeled shoes away, you make your way towards where you hid your old friend.

The sight alone of the weathered leather shoes would make you weep but you don't have time for that. Lifting your skirts up, still wearing the ridiculous wedding gown that has become significantly lighter, you quickly run towards the unicorn tapestry.

Dagger in hand, you're surprised to hear Miguel's heavy strides following you inside the hidden tunnels. Once the sun greets you and the grass crunches under your feet, you beeline for the barn.

A stable boy jumps at the sudden intrusion, he stutters, moreso when he sees your blood drenched form.

“Can you saddle Bernard quickly?” You ask, and the poor boy almost has a heart attack. “Please? I'm a friend of Hobie and—”

“Oh, Hobie! You should've said it earlier then. You're her! He told me a whole lot about you." He smiles at you, already picking up the heavy saddle. "You know how to ride, My lady?"

“No need for that.” You wave away the title. “And yes, perks of running away for years, you learn how to run away in different ways.”

He chuckles, yet the nervousness is still palpable in his eyes. “I'm on it, your grace.”

Smiling softly, you don't correct him anymore. Turning around, you see no one accompanying you. “Lyla?”

“She went off to get her horse,” Miguel appears from behind the barn door. “I'm keeping a lookout.” He returns to his post, acting casual while leaning on the door.

“You don't have to be here if you don't want to, Miguel.” You walk behind him, the wooden doors are blocking you from his view and vice versa.

“I…pondered your words, Y/N, and you're right. I don't want to make you do something you clearly don't want. I won't make that same mistake again, it cost me years without you. It won't make me lose another day without you, even if it means saving a damn pirate.” He chuckles, and you take his hand from where you stood. You hear his breath hitch, “I'm sorry. I think your parents would hate me right now.”

“I don't know them very well but, I think they'll be proud of you. You found me, you brought me home. You were doing the best you can with good intentions.” You squeeze his rough hand, placing your forehead against the door where his shoulders would lie. “Thank you for letting me leave. I think it's best for you to move on, uncle. They'd want that for you.” You hear him sniff, squeezing your hand back.

“Yes, I think it's best.” He lets your hand go, “starting with this,” Placing something round in your hand, he closes your palm around it gently. “They’d want you to have it, something to keep close to you when you're at sea. It helped me back then, I'm sure it'll help you now.”

“You're not coming with me?”

“Not yet, I'll follow you once I can. I'll keep your aunt and uncle here, making sure that they don't get their footmen to follow you. And I'll make sure the ruffians you hired won't go overboard and actually do what you asked them to.” Miguel tearfully chuckles, “just promise me you won't lose your humanity after you take your revenge.”

“I promise, I won't let it consume me.” You whisper your promise just for him.

Taking a peek at the object in your hand, your heart almost shatters at the familiarity of it. It's the same one your mother was clutching in her portrait. Opening the golden locket, you see a portrait of your mother on the left, and on the right, your father. They look younger in the painting, happier, more alive. They were right, you bear a resemblance to your father just as much as to your mother's features. You finally got a good look at them together, and your heart squeezes at the thought.

Sniffing, you look up at Miguel with gratitude, “tell my cousins ‘thank you,’ please.”

“I will. Keep the locket safe for when we meet again?”

“I will, I'll see you in the water, uncle.” He's the only person who's worthy of the title you've bestowed him. Lyla gallops her horse in the distance. “Now get out of here, or I'll end up not letting you go.” You tease, it has half truth in it. Your smile falters, "Tell my mother—"

“Come back and you can tell her yourself. She's still staying in the same town. I know she's waiting for you.” He finally turns around to face you. “Before you go,” shrugging off his coat, he hands it to you. “You'll get cold.”

You look at the fabric with tears in your eyes. Taking the blue coat, he helps you put it on. Sniffing, he turns you back around, rubbing the creases in the sleeves away.

“There, it's perfect but it's missing something.”

“Something blue, and now I've got something borrowed.” Joking, you smile at your godfather.

Miguel hands you a blunderbuss, it's an ordinary looking one, save for the purple leather handle that decorates it.

“It was your father's, he gave it to me when he named me your godfather.” He points at the silver barrel where three letters are etched on it crudely. “It's our first initials. He said that it gave him extra luck.”

“I—I can't take this.”

“Well, you've already taken my locket and coat, what harm falls on me if I gave you his gun? You're gonna need it wherever you're going.” Miguel shoves it in your hands, “just— save a bullet for Mathias and the queen.”

“That I can do.” You grin at him despite the pain in your chest.

“The party's here.” Lyla’ horse stops just outside, she exclaims with fanfare. “Ready to kill some motherfuckers?”

“Aye,” you nod with determination. The fire is blazing under your eyes, lightning in your fingertips, you wear the locket around your neck with pride.

For your parents that you've never met but came to love. For Miguel, for the crew and for all they've sacrificed for you. for Hobie, the love of your life. And for MJ.

—

You ride off on Bernard's back, flames in your chest, wind whipped cheeks, and hands clutching the reins tighter. Your father's blunderbuss weighs heavy on your hips, the smell of Mathias' drying blood stings in your nose. But the putrid smell keeps you awake, a reminder of your goal, a reminder of what truly matters— Hobie. Your love that is currently in shackles, hands bound tighter than the rope around his neck.

Lyla snaps you awake, her own horse huffing from the intense speed.

“Your eyes keep glossing over, duchess, keep ‘em clear for me, yeah?” She yells above the loud hoofbeats.

“I will, are you sure about your plan?”

“My guild consists of a bunch of sacks of shits that'll do anything for a quick coin.” You knit your eyebrows in worry. “But they're loyal to a fault, ‘sides, your captain used to be one of us, once upon a time.”

“What?” You spot the capital's sign, entering the city without stopping. There's a fork in the road as you ride towards the center of the city. The familiar smell of the sea fills you as you ride closer and closer to your destination.

“A story for another day, gorgeous.” She rides faster, her guns clinking against the saddle. “I'll ride ahead, gather as many as I can. Go to him, and disrupt the festivities.” Her voice fades as she hurries off.

Lyla heads towards the left whilst you ride on the right, trying to remember the directions she told you during the short ride.

Numerous buildings whizz by you as you ride faster and faster. Rickety stone buildings turn into elegant carved marble. The streets become smoother as you get closer to the palace. You heard the crowd before you saw them.

Bernard stops in his tracks, right at the edge of the thousands of people clambering to see the execution. He whines as you try to calm him down. Some of the common people are quiet, eyes straight towards the stage where a large man with a black hood stands. The scraping of the ax getting sharpened makes your heart stop.

The palace looms overhead, its golden terrace holds the royals, faces smug, wigs high as they look down at the crowd. Right next to them stands Mathias, hand hastily bandaged, still dripping in blood. His face contorts into pain as he clutches at his injury. You draw your father's gun out, resisting the urge to shoot at the man, but with how far you are, you know you'll miss.

Scanning the stage, you bite your tongue, preventing a pained whimper from getting out.

You've made it, and he has too.

Clad in a white undershirt with the sleeves too big for his frame, trousers too short for his legs, hands tied behind his back, face beaten. Hobie stands with his back straight despite all the red gashes under his thin shirt.

You whisper his name like he can hear you above the yells of the people. You're frozen, hands shaking, eyes unblinking at his form.

The uniformed men make him kneel, his knees slam harshly against wooden floors.

Hobie was never afraid of dying before, he avoided it a hundred times. Yet, his binded hands quiver, dull grey eyes scanning around the crowd, he tries to find familiar faces amidst all the strangers. Trying to find his crew, not for help, but the thought of dying in front of them fills him with sorrow. He doesn't see them, and he's glad. Moreso when he doesn't see your face, he doesn't want you to experience what he had seen before.

But there's a part of him that wants to see you for one last time before steel kisses his neck. He wants to feel your lips against his again, but for now, having the memory of it is enough. The pearl you gave him is cold against his chest, he wishes to hold it again.

Having you in his arms however brief is enough for him, he'll think of you when the blade strikes him down for the last time.

Even with his imminent death, he still finds the will to smile, the same smile you love so much. It's enough to snap you awake.

A navy officer yells above the crowd, scroll in hand, voice booming and commanding. “Here stands the notorious pirate Hobart Brown, he stands here waiting for his sentence. The crimes he has committed are atrocious enough that the crown has automatically given him the guilty verdict!” The people don't cheer, some even boo and hiss at the man. You inhale deeply, hand holding on to the reigns tighter, as you weave Bernard through the crowd. Surprisingly, they part for you.

“What say you, Hobart Brown?”

Hobie chuckles deeply, lips split and bloodied, he grins. “It's captain, actually!” His voice drives you to ride faster, gun raised. He twists around to look at the nobles in their high tower. “It's captain Hobie Brown, you fuckin' wankers!” Cackling, the officer kicks him down. He falls, gasping, neck landing harshly at the stone slab that still has remnants of its last guest.

Still, Hobie yells obscenities, “you haven't won! You might cut my head but two more will replace me! Just like how I replaced the emerald bastard from the south!” He tries to sit up but another man holds him down. “They'll be stronger and better than me! From my death, the people will gather at your gates and break your golden walls!”

The executioner raises his large ax, the sun bouncing off the metal.

Hobie quiets down at the glimmer of the ax shining in his eyes. Whispering the names of his loyal crew, then he softly calls for you like an acolyte prays for forgiveness.

The crowd parts for you like the sea parts for a sailing ship. Giddying up, hooves hitting loudly against stone, you aim.

It's the end, but it doesn't have to be.

“Hobie!” You scream as loud as you can before you shoot.

He blinks in surprise for a second, the man holding him down scampers away as a shot rings out. Now free, Hobie quickly moves away from the stone slab as your bullet hits the executioner's hood right in-between his eyes.

Gasping, the ax falls next to Hobie's head with a thud. The edge is embedded in the wood, missing his face just a few inches away. Eyes staring at the clear sky, he thinks he has died when your face suddenly appears in front of him.

“Scuttlebutt,” he softly says in disbelief.

“Hi, captain, I'm here to rescue you.” You smile at him, “hold on a minute.” Sitting up right, you shoot at the remaining officer. A body thuds, and you return to his side. “I've got you.” You say as you help him sit up, hands already untying his bonds.

Hobie looks at you like a sailor looks at the sea for the first time, with reverence, and awed by the sheer beauty. “You've got me.”

Ropes falling off his aching wrists, he moves to hold your face desperately. Without a second thought, he kisses you fervently. Life spreads back to him, fingertips electric as he holds your face close. Lips warm, you kiss back like it's just you and him. Hands instinctively sliding to his head, you pull away when you feel scruff under your palm.

“What did they do to your hair?!” You almost weep, hands roaming across his bare head. “Oh my god, they have to pay for this.”

Hobie laughs, still holding your face like holding on to a precious pearl. “It'll grow back.” Tears prick your eyes, mirroring his own. “I love you, you did good, scuttlebutt.”

“I did good?” You peck his chapped lips once more.

“Yeah, love.” He prevents you from looking at the military that has their weapons raised and their eyes targeting you and him. “You did very well—” tears escape his grey eyes when he hears the familiar click of a gun.

It's the end.

“I love you too,” you know it's the end. “I'll see you back at the revenge?”

“Save some of Finn's bread for me, yeah?” Hobie leans his forehead atop yours. “I'm sorry.” His voice falters.

“Don't be, I'm glad I fell in that net.” You hold on to him for dear life. Etching his warmth in your brain so you remember it until you're cold. “I'd run towards that dock all over again if I had the chance again.”

It's the end, and you hold him close.

As you embrace each other, as your love is displayed for all to see, your warmth radiates through the crowd. You burn together with him.

Fire consumes and burns but it also lights the way.

The silence wraps around the city center, then, someone yells, pushing off the officer who has his gun aimed at your head. The people follow, rioting against their oppressors.

You both stare below in disbelief, hand cradling your head, he shields your eyes from seeing the violence unfold. Just when bullets hit flesh, and knives slash at necks, an explosion booms above.

Hobie holds onto you tighter, battered arms wrapped around you protectively as debris and smoke fills the whole place. The building across the palace is in flames, and from the billowing ashes out comes a familiar face.

Gwen takes off her hood, feet precariously standing on the ledge, then another form comes out of the smoke, Miles takes his stance next to the first mate, handing her a long rope.

“Holy shit! It's them!” Hobie exclaims, letting you see them with your own eyes.

You grin as you spot them above, “it's them,” you say in shock. A second later, they jump off the building effortlessly, guns raised as they land on their feet right next to the stage.

“I'll cover you!” Miles yells above the chaos as more and more buildings around the palace erupt in a chorus of explosions.

Gwen clambers next to you, relief on her face, hugging the two of you. Embracing back, she leans away to stare at you and her captain.

“You fucking idiots! I'd slap you over the head if I didn't love you both.”

“We love you too, Gwendy.” Hobie smiles amidst the aches.

“What he said, Gwendy.” You beam at her with overwhelming love.

“Love you too, now we need to get you out of here.”

“I have a ship docked somewhere, it's called the osprey. Take it and—” You start but Hobie and Gwen interrupt.

“You make it sound like you're not comin’ with us.”

“Y/N,” Gwen warns as she helps you two on your feet.

“I’m coming with—” a gun goes off.

Blood splatters across your faces. Crimson blooms across Gwen's stomach.

“...oh” she looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together, hand pressing on her belly. You catch Gwen in your arms as you feel the fear in you spread. She calls your name weakly.

Hobie stares at you with terrified eyes as he clutches the back of Gwen's head.

“No, no, don't speak—just… oh fuck!” You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a part of your gown to stuff it inside her wound. Ichor spills out of her like waterfalls. “I've got you!” She yells in pain and you simultaneously hear Miles scream.

Flicking your tear filled eyes over to Miles, he has his back on the ground, face contorted into pain whilst Mathias has his boot on his shooting hand. Miles still fights, kicking and scratching at the man's leg.

“This is what happens when you disrupt—” Red appears on his side as Hobie uses your fallen gun to shoot him where he has his foot crushing atop Miles’ hand. Mathias yelps in pain, a throaty sound escaping from his pale lips.

Hobie is filled with rage, embers flickering in him, turning into flames and then a blaze that burns his insides into ash.

Miles coughs as Mathias runs away towards the enormous church right next to the palace. He pushes away people, blood trailing behind him.

“Miles!” You yell, in your relief, he stands back up, weaving around people to clamber up the steps of the stage.

“I'm here!” He crawls over to Gwen, gently clutching her pale face. “Oh god no, please,” Miles looks at you. “Fix her, please.” Tears slide down his cheeks. “Please.”

You look towards Hobie, not knowing what to do, but said man is nowhere to be found. You briefly spot him running around the crowd, cutting down coppers swiftly with your father's gun and a stray cutlass, following after the man who has shot at his family.

Not again, you think, hands drenched once again in crimson. Not again, not again. You've failed once again.

Someone calls next to you, familiar hands holding yours.

“Tell us what to do.” Yuri thaws you out from your frozen state. Gwen gurgles, grip around your wrist weakening. James appears next to Yuri as you see in your peripheral the same mercenary and his men shooting at soldiers. Lyla cackles near them, adding her guild to the mix in the chaos. “Y/N,” Yuri calls again sternly. “We need you.”

With a sniff, you compose yourself, for Gwen. “Keep your hands on her wound, pack it with cloth then keep pushing.” Gwen groans, you look at her apologetically. “I know it hurts, I'm sorry but we need to do this. Let us do this.”

“I saw a doctor's clinic near here.” James pipes up, “if we take her there will you be able to save her?”

“Yes, we need to—”

Pavitr runs towards the group, guns raised, eyes full of rage once he sees Gwen. “No…” he says weakly. He fixes his composure, for Gwen. “James and I will cover you while the three of you carry Gwen.” He instructs, voice steady.

“No, no, no!” Gwen protests. “It hurts— I can't—”

“You can!” Miles beats you to it. “D’you remember what I told you when we realized Y/N and Hobie weren't behind us after we got attacked?” She nods weakly, lips bitten to stop her pained whimpers. “I meant it, Gwen. I meant all of it yet I haven't shown it because I'm a goddamn coward. Let me show you how much I love you, but I can't do that if you don't let us carry you. So please, let us carry you.”

Gwen smiles, icy eyes staring fondly at Miles. They have a wordless conversation, then Miles gives her a gentle peck on her forehead.

“As long as the d-doc here follows our captain.” She says.

“What—? No, you need me.” You shake your head.

“We already know what to do,” she winces, “you're the only person that can stop him, he'll die, Y/N. Meanwhile I've got a chance with them beside me. And he's all alone.”

You look at the others, they all nod and you blink in surprise. “But—”

“We have her, wifey.” Yuri smiles kindly at you. “This isn't our first bullet wound. Go and fetch our captain for us would ya?”

You have no time to think about it, so you choose what they instructed you to do. “Keep your hands on her and support her back—” your eyes find the familiar large man wearing your rubies. “Oi!” He pauses from crushing a soldier's arm. “Get a handful of your men and help them get to the doctor's!”

“Do I have to?” He asks, shrugging.

“Yes! I paid you!”

The man sighs then he gestures to a few of his people to climb up the stage. Before you let go of Gwen, you stare daggers at the men in the fake uniforms. “Keep all of them alive and I might just give you a piece of Hazelside.”

“Say no more, duchess, we got ‘em.”

“Gwen—” You take one last look over to her.

“Go, I don't plan on dying today.”

“You better. Meet us back at the ship.” You roam your eyes at the crew like it's the last time you would see them. With a nod towards Yuri, you slide your hands away quickly, Yuri replaces the space you left with her own.

Wordlessly you turn away from them. You fight yourself from looking back. Running away towards Hobie, you hope that it's not too late.

Weaving through the crowd, dodging bullets and swords, you keep your head down and keep your eyes forward at the grand church waiting ahead. The spires are tall and sharp, reminding you of the dragons that rose up from the sea and blocked out the moon. Gargoyles decorate the roofs, all stone and eyes large, mouths agape, unmoving.

You lift the skirt of your tattered gown, it might be covered in blood but the white colour of it is a stark contrast to the dark chaos surrounding you. It acts as a beacon to the people as they see you in their ranks, a noble in their eyes that bears gold and silver around her neck and sleeves. Someone who fought everyone just to get to her pirate captain, they find it in themselves to continue fighting. A few even helps you get to your destination by blocking any guards or soldiers from laying their hands on you.

Smoke in your lungs, steel clanging against steel. Blades slashing at limbs, people screaming in all directions, both with rank and without, they all end up in the same fate. You run through the blood soaked field.

Feet sprinting across the field, people are few and far in between once you get nearer and nearer towards the church. Hands on the large doors, you push the heavy oak to no avail. It's locked, the evidence of it is the rattling noise it makes as you shake it in desperation.

Hobie's in there, and you'd do anything to get to him.

You go around the structure to find a window that's big enough for you to slither into. But all the stained glass windows are too high up for you to reach even if you try to break one. Losing hope, you turn a corner towards the back. You finally breathe when you see a wooden door. Without wasting time, you push it open with your shoulder, shoving it, the rust covered hinges creak with your strength. And finally, it bursts open with one final push.

The sight alone made you stop in your tracks. Clutching your dagger, a finely dressed man lays dead in a pool of blood. A sword embedded in his back, a cracked crown sitting next to his bloodied head. The person standing over the king is none other than his own wife, her face isn't one of sadness but of sheer happiness as she grins at her husband's dead body. Blood dripping off her royal hands, she lifts her head to gaze upon you.

“Hello, little bird, you finally made it.” Caroline stands in front of the altar, the kaleidoscope of lights from the glass windows acts as her spotlight. Her gown is in rich velvet, furs covering her shoulder. And a large tiara on top of her intricate powdered wig.

“You killed him.” Gripping your dagger tighter, you stay away from the bloody queen.

“I did,” Caroline giggles, a sound that sends shivers through your spine. “You look marvelous in your wedding gown by the way. A shame that you didn't get married to that fine young man.” Her voice echoes around the large church, its ceilings are high and painted with saints. They look down at you, eyes lifeless. “Lieutenant.” She calls and the man answers, coming out of the shadows and into the pews. “Do me a favour and kill her for me.”

The disheveled man walks over to you, hand still decorated by your bite.

“Why don't you kill me yourself? Like how you killed your husband.” You address the woman, taunting her.

The queen raises a hand and the navy man stops immediately. She smiles and takes the sword out of her husband's body with ease, then she steps over his body without remorse.

“With pleasure.” She unclasps her cloak, the heavy cloth thuds against the marble. “If I couldn't kill your mother personally, I'd settle for killing you instead.”

“What the fuck—!” The queen arches her sword, thankfully you parry it with your dagger. You know you'll lose in the duel with your smaller weapon against hers and her swordsmanship. A yell echoes from above, a distinct scream from who you hope is from Mathias.

“I wasn't lying when I said you remind me of her!” She slashes, right foot pointed towards you, dodging the sharp edge, the heels of your feet hit a pew, then you fall backwards, back and elbows hitting the hardwood. “But she wasn't much of a fighter just like you!” Her eyes are ablaze as you scramble away.

“Why are you doing this?!” Your voice carries off around the church. “You said you were friends!”

Raising your dagger to shield your face when she tries to slash at your chest, she stands atop you, knee right next to your thigh, leg perching her up. Steel dangerously close to your face, wrists aching from her push, you take your free hand to grip the sharp edge of your dagger to combat her own strength. You feel the knife dig into your palm.

“Why?” The queen cackles, leaning her mad face close. “Because she's the reason why I'm here, she's the reason why that man has ruined me until I couldn't even recognize myself—!”

Lifting your legs, bending your knees, you kick her right in her chest. Making her lose her balance, face falling flat on the marble floors. You take the opportunity to crawl and stand up, sprinting away from her. As you bolt off towards the altar, and towards the door to the bell tower, the stairs are within your reach, but Caroline yanks you by your skirt. You fall off the steps of the altar, body and dagger sliding off the smooth marble.

Groaning, she points her weapon towards your neck, taking your mother's necklace by her blade. “Why did you kill them? For revenge?” You ask, vision blurring from the way your head hit the floor. Everything aches in you, but you continue to fight.

“No, for the satisfaction of them being dead.” She eyes the golden necklace and you glare at her. “She was meant to take the crown, not me. Instead she ignored her duty and ran off with a bastard, and I was forced to marry that fucking beast!” Her voice booms, the saints above look down at the chaos. “Forced to carry his children, children I never wanted but loved nonetheless. Children that I never saw grow up because they were taken from me the second they came out of me!” Her hand shakes around the sword.

You slyly inch your hand towards your dagger that's only a hair width away from your fingertips. You let her continue as the tears in her eyes fall on your bloodied face.

“I never wanted to be queen, all I've ever wanted was to see the world. Your mother took that away from me, and now her daughter is living my fucking dream! The second I knew you were alive I wanted to wring your fucking neck. To hurt you just like her choices had on me.” She twists her sword so the blunt edge is kissing your neck, torture, she's planning on sawing your head off with the blunt edge. “If she can't pay, I'd settle for making you hurt instead.”

“You want to kill me because of what happened decades ago? You're fucking mad if you think sins are passed from parent to child! I never knew them!” You fight back despite the blade near your neck. “Do you understand that you caused the same pain to me that the king has caused you? Whatever you want to call it, it's still revenge!” Caroline pushes the cutlass closer, so close that you can feel it in your throat, choking you. “You're blaming the wrong people for your misfortune, blame the people who used you, who said yes to his every whim, not the couple who only wanted to marry the one they love!”

“I’m the victim here—!”

“You are, but who points the sword towards the innocent?” She blinks, lips wobbling. “Look at you, Mathias told me you're brilliant, but you never thought this part through, haven't you? What do you think the nobles of the land will do to you the moment they hear of your regicide? Who will they blame? Me, who bears the mark of your cruelty? Or you, who has the king's blood on your golden hands?”

You distract her enough to finally reach the dagger, swiftly, you plunge it to the nearest part of her that you can manage, her thigh. She screams in agony, sword and crown clanging loudly on the floor. The once favoured queen clutches her wound that's gushing blood, seeping out of her velvet dress and spilling over the white marble.

Unexpectedly, she cries as she desperately wraps her skirt around the gushing wound. You clamber up to your feet, eyes flitting over the stoic man when Caroline calls for him to kill you where you stand. He doesn't move from his position near the confessionals.

“Are you gonna fight me too? An eye for an eye?” You ask, hands shaking while you bend down for your crimson drenched dagger.

“No, your father and I are even.” The simple words turn your eyes the same shade as the fluid pooling around the queen.

“You're just gonna stand there?” You ask while Caroline's wails echo around the expansive church.

“I'm waiting for you to leave so I can help her.” He seems to be unbothered. A scream rings out from above, louder than the woman's screams. Alarm bells trigger in your mind. “Sounds like someone needs your help.”

“Don't follow me,” you threaten, knife pointed at him as you slither towards the door. “Don't help your captain.”

“Alexander!” She screams for the lieutenant.

“You're right, he's already dead anyway, not my problem anymore.” His eye follows you, “Good luck, duchess.”

With one look towards the mysterious man, you get a glimpse of him crouching next to the woman, hands casually tamping down the rushing blood. Locking the door behind you, you run once again.

The winding spiral staircase seems to go up forever, hand clutching your dagger, you don't even feel the pain in your ankles anymore. Numbness flashes over you for a second, but you carry on. The walls get smaller and tighter as you go on, the stone scratches your hands, the small windows barely provide any light for you. The sounds of struggle get louder, so you speed off with the last of your strength.

Rushing, you make it to the top where Mathias has his hands wrapped around Hobie's neck, with no ounce of hesitation, you plunge your dagger in the devil's flesh, right in between his clavicle.

With a shriek, Mathias lets go of Hobie. Your captain gasps for air, clutching his neck. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, relief washing over you just from seeing him breathe.

“I have you!” Holding his face, you thank the stars that he holds you back with his warm hands.

Hobie utters your name softly, “You have a habit of savin’ me, eh, scuttlebutt?” He smiles at you even with his left eye swelling, even with his mouth full of ichor.

You grin, getting him back to his feet. “The others are waiting—!” A large hand picks you up, wrapping a thick arm around your waist, the other is holding your own weapon in his cracked knuckles. Your own blade is placed harshly against your throat.

A trickle of blood drips from your flesh, and Hobie has the same look back on the revenge. Terrified, the swirling greys of his eyes are mortified at the scene in front of him.

Mathias still lives despite the laceration on his neck, despite his life rushing off of him in waves. He stands precariously on the edge of the tower, his back against the sea, the waves lapping against the cliffs below. He holds you tight as a noose when the wind rushes from behind.

There's a bout of silence hanging in between, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat at your fearful face.

“Don't—” Hobie's voice is broken, pleading desperately. “Please,” Not again, not again. The words scream at him. Not her, never her. “Take me instead.”

Mathias gurgles a response. “Just like old times, eh?”

As the blade kisses your neck, you could only look at Hobie. The copper bell is hanging behind him, large and magnificent, and he stands there with his hand desperately reaching towards you, his gun holds no bullets, sword lay broken in half near his feet.

It's the end, but he declines for it to end, for your life to end at hands of the same man that ended his old love three years ago.

He thinks fate is cruel, he thinks the fates hate him. He thinks his life is a Greek tragedy that was waiting to be written for the fates’ entertainment. He refuses to give them the ending they wanted.

You know it's the end, but it doesn't have to be the end for him too.

There's no other option, no other hope but, "No more sacrifices." You whisper to him even though you know he couldn't hear you, at the same time, you whisper an apology to him.

Images of the past six months flashes in your mind. Images of the tavern you once called home, images of the ship you still call your home. Images of the people you've come to love, images of your island and the sand in between your toes, and the sun on your back. Images of Hobie smiling down at you, images of him holding you close as you cry in his arms.

Images of you learning to love him.

You love him and all his sharp edges, all his anger and all his warmth. You loved him, and that's all that matters in life. To love someone so wholeheartedly that it burrows into your bones and digs deep into your marrows, never letting go. You loved him, and he's worth it for what you're about to do. To be loved back is a gift that he graciously granted you, you intend to cherish it until your end.

You call his name like the softest of silk wrapped around your tongue. "Hobie," and you smile at him, letting your smile tell him that he wasn't born to be a knife, letting your smile tell him that you love him more than the moon loves the tides.

He whispers back your name, pleading with you, for he knows you more than he knows himself, and he knows what you're about to do.

With a loop of your foot around Mathias' ankle, you pull hard, then you let yourself fall backwards.

“Alis volat propriis” You softly say, prying the knife from Mathias’ hand.

And fly you did.

Fear encapsulates him as you fall, the same fear flows out of you like spring water as you plunge into the dark depths.

Hobie refuses to look, frozen on the spot, unblinking eyes still staring at the space you left. His heart feels like it's about to give out as he says your name over and over again like a mantra.

He's a knife meant to grieve.

Slowly, his feet move for him. Body stiff, he makes it to the ledge. Grief stricken eyes darting below, he lets out a guttural wail that carries on with the wind.

Clutching his broken heart, he falls to his knees. He keeps repeating your name as he stares at the bubbles rising up on the surface, the waves deliver seafoam on the beach below, and with it, hope still clings to him.

“No,” A sob breaks through when you don't emerge a second later. “...no, c'mon scuttlebutt, don't fuckin' leave me.”

Grief rolls over his skin like tiny pinpricks of sorrow puncturing his insides and into his scarred heart. Your face flashes in front of him, and the voice inside him asks, 'will it be bad if you follow?'

“Brown?” A familiar voice calls behind him, Hobie whirls around, grief evident on his face, Miguel already knows what happend. He shakes his bloody head profusely, “where's— where is she?”

Hobie doesn't answer, he turns back towards the sea. Agony filling his very being as he stares below.

“No!” Miguel follows Hobie's eyes. And then he screams for you. He searches for you under the waves.

Hobie lays his head on the wall of the bell tower. A minute, it's been a minute since you fell, yet no sign of a body has floated up. The sky is still calm, the sun still shines, yet, you don't resurface.

He blinks away when he sees fingers reaching amongst the waves. “Did you see that?” Praying, praying to any deity out there that is listening to him, he prays that his mind isn't playing a cruel joke on him.

“What?”

Hobie stands up, taking Miguel's face to turn it towards the waters. Something moves under the seafoam, someone moves under the seafoam.

His heart picks up speed, and he rushes down the stairs. Miguel follows close by, their feet thudding loudly on the stairs. They ignore the various pains in their body, what matters is you, and they intend to get to your side as quickly as possible.

They go through the broken door that Miguel kicked, and they run over a puddle of blood without a body. Sprinting outside, the sea breeze greets them. They don't stop for anyone or anything, even though the palace burns to the ground behind them, even though the heat from the melting golden gates sears their backs. They continue downward towards the path to the beach.

Hobie trips on a rock, Miguel helps him up swiftly.

From the tides, you rise once more.

Heaving from the swim, drenched and sore. You grin at the two men rushing towards you. Like the waves lapping at your feet, relief washes over them.

You raise your arms in time just before Hobie crashes his body to yours. His face finds safety in the crook of your neck. Arms holding you tight and comfortable, he breaths you in, taking a deep shuddering breath. You smell like the sea. He can't believe you're alive, can't believe that you're back in his arms.

“I lost the dagger,” you say against his cheek as you press cold kisses on his skin.

“I'll get you a new one.” Tears flow out of his eyes, he feels like he's dreaming, he feels like fate has finally granted him reprieve. “I’ll get you a hundred more, fuck that, a thousand more if you asked.”

“I just want one.” You chuckle.

“I'll get you one then.” Hobie peels himself off you, fingers roaming your face, the heel of his hand is placed atop your pulse, making sure he didn't fall off the tower himself. “You're alive.” He says breathlessly, “you fuckin' swam!”

“I had a good teacher.” You say as you hold him tenderly. “He's dead, it's over, Hobie.” Salty tears in your lashes, he pulls you in for another hug. Eyes closed, you savour the calmness with the sound of the rushing sea behind you, knowing that Mathias lays beneath its waves with your dagger embedded in his eye. “It's over, and I'm alright.”

Holding your hand towards Miguel who sits on his knees on the sand, eyes glowing with consolation. You flex your hand towards him so he could hold your hand. He stands up, taking it willingly, squeezing once like how he held your parents’ hands once upon a time.

Miguel nods proudly at you, gently pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, he gives you and Hobie space. You mouth a thank you towards the man.

—

“Shit!” James exclaims, jumping up and down on the docks. “Look at her! She's magnificent!”

“Spell ‘magnificent’, James.” Yuri taunts.

“Don't ruin this for me!” He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear like a child in a sugar shop. “You're actually giving us this ship?”

“Mm-hmm—” before you could finish nodding, James sprints off towards the fine ship. Yuri winks at you before she follows behind James.

The sun slowly sets, bathing the waters in pink and orange light. James isn't wrong, the ship is magnificent. It's bigger than the black hellion, much bigger. Two crow's nests sit at the highest point of the masts. The body is well maintained, oak still shining in the late afternoon sun. Silver violets and hazelnuts decorate the sides, a reminder of what could've been.

Looking at your new home, you shift your gaze to Hobie, knowing wherever he is, as long as you're with him, you're home.

Your tired eyes flick over the figurehead of an osprey with its wings outstretched around the head of the ship. Hobie taps your head with his own gently.

“It needs some work done.”

You chuckle as you fix your hold on him. Still in your wedding gown, skin still smelling like the sea, you move impossibly closer to him. You're both winded, but Hobie has sustained more injuries than you and needed more help in standing up straight. “Do you think we should change the name?”

“Love,” he turns his head towards you, his smile almost makes you kiss him right there and then. “I think I've got a few ideas, for now let's get the fuck out of here.”

“Alright— wait, where's Gwen?”

“Here, worry much, landlubber?” She asks on her stretcher. Miles, Pavitr and an unknown blond man carry her.

“Well you were shot, Gwendy, I think I have every right to be worried.”

“I'm fine now, can't even feel a thing!” She smiles and you recognize her state.

“I think that's the medication talking.” You eye the stranger, “and who might you be?”

“Oi,” Hobie points at the man. “You better not cause any trouble Stacy.”

You lightly gasp, finally noticing the resemblance.

“Not planning on causing any, captain.” Gwen's father smiles and gives you a curt nod.

“Can we hurry the chit chat?” Miles groans.

“You telling me I'm too heavy, Morales?” Gwen teases but the fatigue must've taken a toll on Miles as he takes it seriously.

“W-what? Of course not!”

“You calling my daughter heavy?” Her father jokes back. They're father and daughter alright.

“No! Let's just get on the ship.” Miles pouts, you send him a smile, wordlessly giving him your thanks. He shakes his head, hiding his grin in reply.

“Pav!” You call after Pavitr, “tea later?”

He beams at you, happiness almost blinding you. “Hell yeah!” Jaunting happily, he practically skips off, to Gwen's protest, who still lays on the gurney, shakes from his little dance.

Miguel taps your shoulder, Hobie lets you go so you could hug the man.

“Room for one more?” He asks while patting your back.

Leaning away, your eyes widen, smile widening. “What!”

“I meant for Lyla, kid.” Miguel laughs, smile lines appearing.

“Oh, you're not coming with us?” Disappointment is evident in your voice.

“No, sorry. Maybe one day. I've got unfinished business” He holds your shoulders, “you better take care or I'll chase you again.”

“Oh god, don't say that!” You giggle whilst he mirrors your smile. “If you're not coming, then you can have this back.” Taking off the locket, you place it in his rough palms. “A reminder of them,” you close his fingers around the gold. “Besides, I already have his gun. You deserve something of theirs too.”

The sun shines in his eyes. “This was Gabriella’s, she gifted it to your mother when she got sick. It's a family heirloom.”

“She was Gabriella's godmother, wasn't she?”

“Yes, and your father was her godfather.”

You tap his hand. “It's back in the right hands then.”

“Thank you,” Miguel sniffs, neck craning towards Hobie who sits on a crate. “And you,” Hobie dramatically points at himself. “Take care of my goddaughter, or I'll come after you again.”

Hobie, smirks, “aye, aye, admiral.” He mocks a salute.

Miguel shoots you a look, “you sure about that one?”

You gaze at Hobie, your Hobie. “I'm sure.” He winks at you and you wink back.

“God, I gotta let you go before I get sick.” You chortle as Miguel hugs you one last time. Pressing a kiss on the crown of your head, he nods once, staring at your face, seeing his friends’ faces in yours, saying goodbye to the three of you. “Be good, I'll see you in the sea.”

“Looking forward to it, uncle. Don't get caught by the coppers.” He lets you go with a laugh, unhitching his horse and then getting on, he rides off.

Lyla suddenly appears from the dust with a big grin on her face, she carries suitcases upon suitcases in her arms. “Where to, captain?” She asks you.

“Not the captain, he is.” You gesture towards Hobie who doesn't even correct Lyla. He just waves at her with a small shrug.

“I thought whoever owned the boat was the captain, anyway! Off to adventure!” She cackles into the sunset, feet thudding loudly as she hurls all her luggage on the ship. You vaguely hear someone yell ‘who the fuck are you?!’

You ignore it for now, how could you not when Hobie stares at you so sweetly that you prefer this than chocolate?

“She's not wrong y’know.” He says whilst you saunter towards him. Stretching his legs, he gives you space to stand in between them.

“Are you planning on giving me your title, captain?” You tease, sliding your hands up and down his arms. His own is wrapped around your middle, staring up at you with endearment.

“You're already a captain,” you raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. He sighs, so full of love for the woman in his arms. “of my heart—”

“I knew you would say that!” You laugh, feeling like the weight off your shoulders has finally turned into dust. And he feels like the fish bone stuck in his throat is finally gone.

Hobie smiles softly at you, heart shaped grey eyes full of life. “Are you sure about this? Stayin’ I mean.”

You squeeze the back of his neck, already missing how his hair would tickle your palms. But you love him even with his scruffy head. He looks handsome with or without it, you'll never tell him or his ego would implode. At least now you get the pleasure of seeing it grow, you can't help but press a sickeningly sweet kiss atop his head.

The sound of the anchors getting lifted up fills your ears so you lean closer for him to hear your words better.

“I'll stay as long as you want me too.”

“Forever then?”

“Forever.” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Until I'm cold, you can't escape me.”

Hobie has a lopsided smile on his lips, grey eyes aglow with affection. “You're still in your white dress,” you raise an eyebrow. “Y’know what that means—” Lifting you up like a bride, he carries you towards the ship as you yelp and giggle in his arms. “Off to our honeymoon then!”

As the sun sets, you set off to new beginnings. You've found where you belong, you've finally found home.

A/N: And it's done!! Thank you all so much for reading, interacting and genuinely showing your support whether it's by making fanart or sending your thoughts, I'm forever grateful for all of them!! Love you ❤️

Already missing the crew? They'll be back for Between the Devil and the Sea Book 2!! You can check out my ☕ page for a lil sneak peek!

200 notes · View notes

grocerystorelist · 9 months

Text

the body of christ – matty healy

brash and rogue, you don't know what to do with how you feel about the new priest in town. so, you find yourself in the confessional booth... aka priest!au

minors dni. dom/sub undertones, oral fixation, oral sex, unprotected sex, the man hasn't kissed anyone in a decade let him live!! wc: 3.2k

The church is dark when you approach the confessional booth, the heels of your boots ringing out and echoing throughout the cavernous room. You wonder if he hears you. A single lamp is turned on next to the booth, yellow beams dancing across the shifting fabric. You can hear Matty shuffling around inside, the shiny tips of his shoes barely visible beneath the black hanging.

It’s been a week since he kissed you, all teeth and tongue on the bench outside of his apartment, an insistent hand burning a path around your waist.

“I’ve come to confess, Father.” You smirk to yourself, crossing your ankles and shifting on the wooden seat to sit on your hands. There’s something girlish about the way you’re sitting, and you remember when your parents used to make you frequent this very booth several years ago. Then your confessions were about swiping your best friend’s eyeshadow palette, worried hands picking at your bright blue nail polish as you pleaded for forgiveness from an elderly priest. Now, the darkness of the booth no longer scares you.

“I’ve been having all of these thoughts… fantasies, if you will.” You strain your ears to your left, hoping to hear a gasp, a reaction from Matty. “I think about him all the time, and I don’t know what to do because he just won’t let himself.” A low ache settles itself between your legs, and you know that he can hear your legs cross and uncross themselves as you try to relieve yourself. As you smooth your black skirt down your thighs, you finally hear a shaky breath through the tiny window.

“I wanted him right there on a bench a few nights ago but he stopped himself after kissing me.” Your mind flashes back to the witty back and forths of that night, dangerously toeing the line of inappropriate.

“It was dark and quiet and the only thing I could hear was his heart pounding against mine.” Your cunt throbs, filled with the image of you climbing on top of him on the bench. “I tried to get off when I got home, but nothing worked.” A beat.

“What did you do?” He breathes out. In disbelief, you manage to say through the haze, “I touched myself. I touched– I was so desperate for anything. “ The wood of the confessional booth creaks as you continue.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of him bending me over, the way his fingers looked wrapped around the bottle that night.” A thunk emanates from beside you, a groan resonating throughout the booth as you squirm. “I wanted his head between my thighs, I wanted to get down on my knees in front of that bench as he fucking ran his mouth.”

“Have you-” Matty starts, hesitating. You interject before he can continue.

“I’ve never had anyone before.” You run your tongue over your bottom lip. “But I want him.”

“Stop.”

“What? Father-”

“Kneel.” You wait until he repeats himself, sliding off the bench and settling yourself on the floor. “Kneel.” Hands clasped, you close your eyes, waiting for his next directive. In the few moments of silence, your mind wanders before you ground yourself, feeling the grain of the wood through the knees of your tights.

Suddenly, the curtain is ripped open, velvet whipping inches away from your face. You blink through the spots in your eyes to adjust to the light filtering through the stained glass. Dust motes float in a haze around Matty’s head, and you swear you see a halo for a moment. Lips barely parted, his chin is tilted up, considering you as he looks down his nose.

His eyes bore through you, brown irises giving way to widening black pupils. You rise on your knees, breathing shallowly and staring up at him, waiting for him to cut through the thick soup of tension between you two. Matty’s hand rises and his eyes flick to it, as if he can’t believe he’s reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

The heat of his palm reaches you first, and you instinctively stretch to reach his hand, brushing your reddened cheek to his cool fingers. Matty’s fingers twitch away, only to return to your bottom lip, thumb collecting your sticky red lipgloss. He pushes in further and you take the chance to suck on his finger, gently tonguing at the intrusion. The rest of his fingers come to rest on your jaw, curling around the back of your neck.

He drops to the floor of the confessional and mirrors you on your knees, eyes scanning over your flushed face. Matty slowly pulls his thumb out of your now open mouth, where it joins the rest of his fingers on the side of your face, the glistening digit smearing spit over your cheekbone.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly his lips are on your lips, and you’re gasping wetly as his hand travels down to rest on your hip, pressing you into him. He kisses and kisses and kisses you, a decade of desire being unleashed in the span of a few seconds. You grip onto Matty’s black shirt, running one hand through the gel that holds his curls in place. Delight blooms in your mind, and you grin as you kiss him. A sharp tug has Matty moaning into your mouth, tongue running over your bottom lip before you let him in.

You let out a giggle, realizing you’re the first person he’s kissed in ten years if you don’t count all the hands he kisses in blessing. Matty pulls back, a questioning look on his face, and you take in the string of spit that stretches between your mouths, the rise and fall of his chest, the shadow of the veins on his forearms. Now that you have him, you want to devour him.

He asks first, though. Matty’s hands slide down the back of your skirt, toying with the hem and tracing circles on your sheer black tights.

“Let me taste you,” he tips your head up, pressing a firm kiss to your lips as your head spins. You nod emphatically as you pull away, getting to your feet to sit back on the bench of the confessional. Matty rises too, and you look up at him as he undoes the top button of his black shirt, yanking his white collar out of the lapel and discarding it behind him. It hits the wood of a faraway pew, echoing through the silence.

All you hear is the blood in your ears as Matty gets back on the floor and hooks one hand underneath each knee to drag you to the edge of the bench. You feel your cunt throb with anticipation. He flips your skirt up, sucking in a breath at the visible lace of your underwear. Matty’s hands slide beneath the waistband of your skirt, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as he fumbles for the elastic of your tights. He hasn’t looked up at you in a minute, transfixed by how the pale skin of his hands looks against the black of your tights.

You lift your hips to help Matty pull your tights off, his hands running reverently down you. They stop at your knees, grasping the meat of your thighs, digging in and pushing your legs apart to bare the damp red lace of your underwear.

“Did you wear this just for me?” Matty rasps out, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. You whimper your confession, hands falling behind you as you struggle to keep yourself upright, his kisses nearing the lace covering you. He licks at the fabric, contributing to the growing dark spot on the fabric between your legs. Your hips jump, and he presses down with a hand on your hip, silently telling you to stay in place.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. All wet for me.” His breath ghosts over you as he hooks his fingers on your underwear, slowly tugging down. “Is this what you looked like after I kissed you the other night?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out before he pulls them off, balling them up and stuffing them in his pocket. Matty finds your clit with an assured finger, rubbing circles. He bites down into the flesh of your left thigh, tongue soon following to soothe over the spot. Through the daze of the headrush, you see purple blooming as he traces his tongue toward where his finger is focused.

He attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and lapping at it with the same fervor as he had kissed you earlier. Matty eats you like a man starved, like it’s water in a desert, like you’re the sweetest fruit and all he wants is to consume you.

“Matty-” you moan. He slips his tongue into you, nose bumping your clit as he traces your walls. You grind into his face as he brings one of your legs over his shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“So sweet making those sounds for me, love,” he says, withdrawing from your cunt to grin devilishly up at you. Matty’s hair is unruly and all over the place, chin glistening with you. He looks like he’s found heaven on his knees, and he brings a hand up to swipe your juices off his face. With a smirk, he brings the hand up to your lips, pushing two fingers in. You take them down to the knuckle, laving around them, and you see Matty reach for the front of his trousers, palming himself.

“Such a good girl for me,” Matty groans, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. “Going to make you come so hard you forget your name, your prayers” He reattaches his lips to your clit and brings his soaked fingers to your fluttering hole, slowly thrusting one in.

The fire in your lower belly is rapidly building, the waves of pleasure reaching new heights as he carefully stretches you around another finger. “Matty, shit, fuck,” you whine, rolling your hips. He diligently laps at you, and the euphoria hits you, trembling on the bench. You feel yourself spasming around Matty’s tongue as he continues to lick you through the ecstasy, legs splayed out for him.

Eventually, you push him away, bringing your thighs together and grinning dopily down to him. Matty is disheveled, his face covered in your juices. The hard line of his pants practically reaches out to you. I did that to him, you think, sticky and sweaty on the bench. Matty comes up to kiss you on the lips, peppering your face with soft devotion as he tugs your skirt down over the evidence of his worship.

The two of you sit together in silence for several minutes, the rise and fall of your chests perfectly synchronized.

“Good first?” Matty mumbles into your hair, playing and twisting your locks. You twist to look at him, an incredulous look on your face.

“You’re one to talk!” Your mouth drops open, laughing at the incredulity of his question. “You haven’t had sex in ten years.” Matty’s face drops momentarily before he runs his hand sheepishly through his hair.

“You’d probably never believe it, but back in the day I used to be quite a catch.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “That’s why they sent me to seminary. The girls couldn’t get enough of me.” You hide your face in his neck so he doesn’t see your reaction, eyes crinkling and mouth widening at the thought of a Matty your age being the talk of the town parties.

Shaking your head, you stand up and push through the curtain, waiting for him to follow you. He emerges from the darkness of the booth like an angel, pushing back the sleeves of his shirt where they’ve started to fall down his forearms.

Matty presses a chaste kiss to your nose as his arms bracket you against the confessional. You tilt your head up to capture his lips, pulling him closer as he trails kisses down your neck. You let him for a moment before you slip out around him, spinning on your heel and smoothing your skirt down. Matty looks dangerous now, not understanding why you’re pulling him away from the booth — his eyes tell you he would take you right over a pew if you let him.

“The rectory,” you say, taking his hand in yours. Matty walks with purpose, his strides long, and you struggle to keep up with him.

“Can my poor girl walk after what I just gave her?” You roll your eyes at the endearment, focusing on putting one leg in front of the other. One wobble and you would answer his question, which you aren’t allowing tonight.

A few minutes later you lie on his soft white sheets, legs parted as you lazily slip your fingers through your folds. Matty stands at the corner of the bed as he pulls his dress shirt out of its tuck, nimble hands unbuttoning and sliding the garment from his shoulders.

“Didn’t know priests could be so fit,” you giggle. “Is there a priest gym?” Matty throws his head back in a laugh.

“The dress code is cassocks, and it’s just rows and rows of priests on weight machines.” He jokes. “It’s practice for lifting babies out of water.” You pull a serious face, nodding solemnly.

“I hope I’m not intruding on your priest gym time tonight.” Instead of riffing off you, Matty decides to lift you up, spinning to land you on his lap. The rough fabric of his pants zaps the nerves in your clit, and you unwittingly grind down, making contact with his length. The air in the room is charged once again, ions waiting to be aligned to carry the spark between you both.

In one move, Matty kisses you square on the mouth and rolls you over. He towers over you, eyes zeroing in on your dripping cunt. You grasp for his belt buckle, yanking it out of the loops and throwing it into a far corner. His hands replace your own as he tugs his pants down first, revealing his tight black boxers.

Your mouth waters at the sight, but your reaching hands are gently stopped as Matty breathes a question. “Condom?” He raises an eyebrow, and you frantically shake your head no. “On the pill,” you briefly explain. Matty’s eyes darken as he slides his boxers down. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and weeping.

He circles his hand around it, stroking and tugging. “You look like a wet dream,” Matty says reverently, sliding down the bed to position himself over you.

Your hand joins him on his cock, and together you guide him to your soaked entrance. He swipes through the mess, coating himself in your cum. Torturously slowly, he finally presses into you.

“So tight love, you feel so good.” You grasp at his forearms, fixating on the curl dangling from his forehead. Matty’s abs flex under your fingers as he slowly pushes into your cunt, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His pants throw a hot spear of need through you, and he stills as he bottoms out. He’s bigger than anything you could’ve imagined. Matty stills between your legs, the two of you suspended in a tableau of sacrilege.

“Move, please,” you whisper, hugging him close as the pressure subsides into pleasure. Matty draws out slowly, and you feel every ridge dragging within you. Pleasure runs up your spine, and you whimper as words leave you, hoping he can tell you want, you need more.

He slowly rocks back into you, hips setting an agonizing pace. You feel so hazy, and you have no idea how to make your mouth work and tell him to give it to you faster, harder. Your head lolls backward, eyes blurry with desire.

“Ask me,” he says, and you shake your head, not understanding. He reaches up to his own forehead, down where the two of you are connected, then to his left and right shoulders.

“Oh-” you gasp, reaching up with both hands to take hold of Matty’s fist. You press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned.” Matty moans, his thrusts finding a new vigor. He drills into your cunt, kissing spots in you that have stars exploding behind your eyes.

Bending down, Matty laves over your tits, sucking your left nipple into his mouth as he rubs at your clit. He rolls your nipple between his teeth, spit pooling on your chest. His mouth leaves your breast only to be replaced by a hand expertly tugging and twisting at your nipple.

You spread the spit from your tits, pressing down on your lower belly at the hard bulge of him inside you. And shit – you feel him, tightening your body’s grip on his cock.

“Do you like that, love, me filling you up so well?” Matty groans, dragging his hand down, interlacing your fingers and covering your hand with his. He pushes down to feel his dick in you, watching himself thrust in and out as the head pokes at your belly.

You mewl, digging your heels into his lower back, letting him roll further into you, cock hitting places so deep in you you didn’t realize they existed.

“Where do you want me?” Matty asks with a hoarse voice. You lock eyes with him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “In me.” He swallows the rest of your sentence with a kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth in time with the buck of his hips.

“Taking me so well,” his hips set a frantic pace. Your eyes roll back in your head, spots dancing across your vision. “Come for me, love.” You fight the sensation off, wanting to come with him. Matty’s hand burns circles around your clit as he thrusts mercilessly, filling you over and over.

With the first clench of your walls around his cock he twitches, a low grunt slipping out of his mouth as he hoists your hip up with one hand and somehow hits deeper. You think you might die if you don’t come soon. Hurtling towards the edge, you light up on the inside as you convulse underneath Matty. Eventually, you topple over, arching up into his chest as his cock begins to pulse inside you.

Sticky warmth fills you, and he fucks you through the last waves of his own orgasm. “You’re fucking perfect,” he moans, one hand next to your head as his hips still. His cock softens in you, but neither of you makes any move to shift.

You smile blearily up at him, and he dips his head to press a sweaty kiss to your forehead. His bed suddenly seems all the more inviting, and you both nearly drift off before you start to feel your cum dripping out around him.

Matty shakes some sense in himself to get the both of you cleaned up, and you wince when he slips out of you. The sudden emptiness colors your vision as you clench around nothing. He pads back to the bed with a washcloth, gingerly wiping your folds of cum and throwing the square into his laundry. He slips on a pair of boxers before handing you a matching pair, tugging a faded navy shirt over your head and gathering your hair to pull through the neck.

You feel as if you’re about to burst from the tenderness as you gaze at Matty curled towards you, perfect mirrors of each other.

“Stay,” he whispers, kissing you.

“I will.” You close your eyes, hands reaching out to intertwine with his.

#ok well hi guys! im leila nice 2 meet u all this is one hell of an introduction #fleabag if they fucked in the confessional instead of him being scared off #tell me if u like pls #sorry for the end being abrupt i kind of got sick of it #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #the 1975 #priest au #fics

271 notes · View notes

dream-a-dream-for-me · 1 month

Text

Clicker training puppy!Art has been the only thing revolving in my mind rn, so i treat you all to this

He felt so humiliated and exposed when you two first tried it. Looking up at you with those cute puppy ears, the headband covered by his hair, the puppy tail plug resting on the floor as he kneels. his wet pink tongue lolling out, beginning to drool while his arms bend at the elbow, fingers curling, wrist bent as though he were begging like the good dumb bitch he is. to top it all off, a collar is wrapped around his pale throat with a little gold tag that hangs down, reading "property of" with your name centered in capitalized bold letters under it.

"Who's a good boyyy?" You tease in an extremely condescending tone, exactly like you were talking to an actual dog. as much as he hates to admit it, his cock does kick, starting to grow half hard as he blushes in embarrassment, turning his head to break eye contact with you. Clicking your tongue, you grab his chin with two fingers, forcing him to look at you.

"Look at me, and answer, mutt. Are you a good boy?" Your tone is soft, but he knows you're dead serious, "Speak, puppy, speak!" You encourage, grinning down at him. He moves his head forward slightly before letting out a tiny bark and his blush some how deepens.

Immediately you praise him, pushing the button on the clicker a few times, making sure he hears it before you give him his reward. "That's right, baby! You're such a good, good, dog! I think, for listening so well, you should get a treat. Don't you agree?"

Again, he barks softly and you pet his head, scratching his scalp lightly before spreading your legs, letting him get a perfect view of your soaking cunt. He stares at your pussy, drool falling from the tip of his tongue and onto his chest, but he doesn't notice, too enthralled with your body. he rips his eyes away from your core, looking up at you expectantly, it takes a begging whine from him for you to realize what he's waiting for. Your permission.

Grinning at how well you've trained him, you nod "Go ahead, Art, it's your treat." the second those words escape your lips he drops his hands down to the floor instead of gripping your thighs to keep himself stable, knowing he hasn't earned the right to touch you yet. then, he buries his face in between your thighs, lapping at your pretty cunt, taking your clit in his mouth and sucking on it. Anything that will give you pleasure.

Burying his tongue deep in your cunt, his eyes hazy and unfocused, the only thing on his mind right now is making you cum. god, he lets out the sweetest whimpers when you pull his hair, his tongue working faster around your clit, needing you to use him. when you're about to cum, you click your tongue against your teeth twice, just as you'd do to get any dog's attention. His eyes flick up and catch sight of the clicker held up in your hand, immediately moaning into your pussy like an absolute slut. "Mhm, that's right sweetheart, m'gonna cum and you can lap it allll up!" he whines again, eyes wide with excitement. If he had a tail it'd be a blur with how fast it'd be wagging.

Yanking his hair and grinding against his face as you cum, clicking the button three times again next to him, needing that noise to be ingrained in his mind. like a good boy, he doesn't waste a drop<3

He doesn't stop until you pull him away, even then he tries to lick your cum off of his own face. "go on puppy, use your paws" he cocks his head to the side, confused for a second before he understands. wiping at his face with the back of his hand before licking it off. he looks so cute that you have to use the clicker again, only two this time but it's starting to rile him up anyways. His gorgeous cock hanging hard between his soft thighs, "oh? are you needy, baby? you need mommy to milk you?" he pushes his face into your thigh nodding slightly while blushing hard at your tone, so embarrassed that he gets off on this.

"Up! On the bed, you're allowed," He crawls to the side, rubbing his face on your leg for a second before pulling himself onto the bed. "Roll over!" he falls back onto the bed, keeping his legs and arms up and bent at the joint. you laugh at how cute he is, running your hand up and down his thigh before moving to his soaking wet cock.

He throws his head back, letting out high pitched moans, trying his hardest to not buck his hips up into your hands. rubbing the pad of your thumb over the slit of his cock, watching how much it leaks out all over your hand. leaning down, you flick your tongue over the slit then take the head into your mouth. his eyes screw shut, fingers clenching and unclenching the sheets, biting his lip while his cute thighs shake. he's always been extremely sensitive<3

He opens his mouth to tell you that he wants to cum, then promptly shuts it, puppies aren't meant to use human words! So he barks, louder than the times before, far more confident, "What is it, pup? Do you need to cum? Is that it?" He nods, barking again and whining, cute face scrunched up, so close to cumming. "Go ahead, cum for me. cum for me puppy, make a mess" of course, you use the clicker again and it sets him off, cum bursting from his dick, getting all over your hand and his chest.

What a dirty pup

#and yes #he does accidentally get turned on whenever someone plays with a pen #might write something about Patrick finding this out and making fun of him then fucking him (with your permission ofc)#sage's drabbles❣#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art challengers #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x you #challengers x reader #challengers smut #mike faist smut #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you

124 notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 1 year

Text

➤ kissing in the shower

pairing: solomon x gn!reader

content: nsfw (18+). making out and smut. wc: 0.7k.

“This always feels like coming home,” Solomon murmurs against your lips between lazy kisses. You’re both wet from the showerhead spraying down a gentle stream of warm water. One of his hands is curled around your nape, and he scratches lightly at your scalp when he brings you forward for another deep, unhurried kiss. His other hand is draped loosely around your waist, a gentle embrace to make up for days of not being able to hold you like this.

You lick your lips when you pull back from another kiss, and his bright eyes open slowly and drink in your naked body like he hasn't seen anything so wonderful in ages. He smiles at you fondly, but the intensity of his gaze makes you feel weak-kneed.

You smooth your palms down his bare chest, flicking away traces of the soapy lather you massaged him with earlier. The steamy air around you smells like the vanilla-sandalwood soap you both like to use.

“Want me to wash your hair next?” you ask him as you turn around slightly in his arms to reach for the bottle of shampoo.

He considers your offer for a moment and shakes his head with a grin. “Not yet, darling,” he suggests, and he takes the bottle from you and sets it aside. He puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around so your back is to him. “I think I’d like to take care of you first,” he whispers against your ear, and he chuckles when you shudder.

His lips pepper your shoulders and bare neck with lazy kisses and occasional nips of his teeth as he plasters his chest against you. His weight is heavy against your back and you let him nudge you forward until your upper torso is pressed flat against the cold tile of the shower wall. The fingers curled around your hip pull your body into a deeper arch; you can already feel how hard he is when he grinds against you.

His other hand slides up the gentle curves of your belly. He snakes into the space between your bare chest and the wall until one of your nipples is caught between his splayed fingers. He pinches your nipple gently when he squeezes his fingers together, and your quiet moan encourages him to do it again. You rest your forehead against the wall and close your eyes; you’re already so needy for him. The sight of his hand sneaking over the top of your thigh and between your legs threatens to undo you already.

“I missed this,” he groans when he drags his fingers up and down against your arousal. “I missed you.”

“M-missed you too,” you whine, your needy declaration trailing off into another moan when he touches you with more urgency. Days without him have taken their toll on your restraint and you want to lose yourself in him. You would be embarrassed by how touch-starved you feel, except his hips rock against you with desperation that mirrors your own.

“Not gonna last,” you admit breathlessly, and you gasp when he tweaks your sensitive nipple in rhythm with the skillful hand working you relentlessly towards release.

His hot breath against your neck and he drags his lips across the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping and sucking lightly at whatever skin his greedy mouth can reach. “Come for me, darling” he urges you with a groan. “Come on my fingers.”

It’s impossible to deny him anything when he begs you in that rough, lustful timbre, and your thighs shake when he finally pulls you over the edge. The running water barely drowns out the sound of your broken cry that echoes in the small room, and your body jolts as he teases you through the aftershocks.

You whimper from sensitivity when you can’t possibly take anymore, and he finally pulls his hand away. Warmth blooms in your cheeks when he holds his hand up for you both to watch your cum trickle down his nimble fingers. You stare at him with wide eyes when he draws the slick fingers to his mouth and licks them clean with his greedy tongue.

“You taste so good, darling,” he coos gently as he rocks his hips against you. His hard cock is still trapped between your bodies, and the hungry look in his eyes reminds you that he’s not quite done with you yet.

read more: solomon masterlist | obey me! masterlist

#obey me #omswd #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #solomon smut #obey me smut #omswd smut #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader #jes.2k event

685 notes · View notes

callsignmarz · 8 months

Text

‼️MDNI‼️ - Keegan P. Russ x Y/N | Fem

“Claim Me.”

"Just grow a pair and go talk to him." Keegan insisted, slamming the door to a humvee, clearly checked out from the conversation.

"That's not how nature works, Keegan." You riposted, turning your attention back to Logan, who was currently across the motor pool, chatting to a few other soldiers.

It was no secret that you had a little crush on Logan Walker.

Whenever he was in the area, you felt like a teenager again with her first school crush. Just the sight of him made your cheeks flush a light shade of pink and your knees ready to buckle. And If Keegan had to sit and listen to how fine of a man Logan was one more time, he swore to himself that he will end it all, right then and there.

"Besides, I'd rather just...you know, let things...happen..? Yeah. Let's just go with that."

Keegan raises an eyebrow, shaking his head, unconvinced by your sad attempted claim.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Keegan makes his way over to the mobile toolbox that you've been leaning on for the past half hour — instead of helping him like he asked you in the first place.

Sensing you needed a little help in the love department, out of the kindness of his cold grinch heart, he gives you some words of advice.

"Standing on the sidelines isn't going to get you far, y/n. A man likes it when a woman takes charge. It's hot as fuck, actually." Keegan galled, giving you a friendly wink. He obnoxiously clicks a pen that he had tucked behind his ear and retrieves the clipboard next to your elbow, scribbling down the required maintenance notes.

He had a point though.

But you would never admit that, especially with how vulgar he put it.

So, you just roll your eyes in protest. "Is that so? Then tell me this. Since when did you become such a 'Love Guru?' Last time I checked, you still had trouble finding yourself a girlfriend." You implored the 'notorious' ladies man.

He hands you the clipboard and you promptly grab ahold of it. You watch him lift up the hood of the truck with one arm as if it weighed nothing.

Why did anything he did always had to be so..?

"That's where you're wrong, Sweetheart. I'm not looking for a girlfriend. Just looking for a good time." He chuckles dryly.

"You're vile." Your face contorts in disgust, but he just shrugs off your jab.

"I've been called worst, Sweetheart."

The sound of a boot scuffling against the gravel, pulls your attention away for a moment and your heart flutters when you realize Logan was standing a few feet beside you.

Okay. Act normal, Y/N...what the fuck is normal!?

"What's up, kid?" Keegan greets cooly, snapping you out of your head.

Tearing himself away from the vehicle, Keegan and Logan clasps their hands together, briefly pulling each other in, bumping shoulders before releasing one another.

"Let me guess, causing trouble?" Keegan quipped as he folded his arms across his chest.

Logan gives a friendly smile, his voice came out a smooth baritone, "Always." He flicks his gaze to you, with eyes now wide and mouth agape with incredulity.

"Who's your friend, Russ?" Logan asks as he gives you a once-over look, intrigued and wondering why he hasn't seen you before.

"This is y/n. She more of a thorn in my ass than a friend." Keegan half-jokingly introduces while giving you a look that says 'Now's your chance.'

Clearing your throat of all the cobwebs that formed within the few minutes, you extend your right hand as you give him a quick run down, "Sergeant Y/N L/N, PCS'd from Fort Wainwright about a month or two ago." Logan listens intently, taking ahold your hand with a firm grip and a surge electricity to shoots through your body.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sarge. Alaska must've been one hell of an experience." He mused with his dark caramel eyes locked in on yours. Slowly, Logan lets go of your hand, but purposely allows his touch to linger.

"I'm surprised you didn't go AWOL." He chorkles.

Slightly shrugging your shoulder and batting your lashes, you pick up on his subtle cues.

"There were days where I was tempted to, but I'm pretty good at being on the straight and narrow." You say coy-like with a smile that matched your tone.

"Good, good. But, hey! I actually have to get going, but uh...You should stop by later tonight and we can finish up this conversation. What do you say?" Logan asks with a quizzical smile, his teeth were pearly white and straight, just the way you like them.

Your mouth gaps open slightly, surprised by how fast everything was moving. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren't in a dream but the look from Keegan was an obvious indication this was no dream. Far from, actually.

"Uh, y-yeah. I don't mind." You finally answered.

"Cool...See you then, y/n."

With that, Logan walks off with your eyes following him until he's no longer in sight. You then whip around, almost tripping over your own feet, turning to Keegan and exploding with screeches of excitement.

"Did that actually happen!?" You squeal, rushing over to vigorously shake Keegan's shoulder.

Swatting your hands away, Keegan keeps his eyes forward as he tick in his jaw serves as a seedling of jealously that grew and bloomed a vibrant sprig of green.

"Yes. Now can I get back to work?" He sneers in frustration, retreating his focus back to the engine of the truck.

⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

As painful as it was to your ego, you take Keegan's advice and with newfound determination eddied in your irises, you come up with an idea.

A man likes when a girl takes charge.

Keegan's voice resounds in your head. The heedful reminder causes your eyes to roll into the back of the your skull. Then your attention shifts back to your reflection. Surveying your outfit one last time as you twist and pose your body in the mirror making sure you were up to par.

Adjusting your black crop top so it flattered your boobs and the ripped up mom-jeans you wore were loose but they hugged you curves just enough to accentuate the roundness of your ass.

And underneath...a matching set of magenta laced lingerie.

There was no way you were not getting laid.

It was a quarter until midnight. The plan was you were going to sneak into Logan's room undetected and surprise him in his bed.

As crazy as it sounds — it was foolproof.

Like, what man wouldn't dream of a woman, as feral as you were, crawling into their bed in the middle of the night?

Right?

After applying the last layer of your clear lemon flavored lipgloss, you roll your plumped lips together followed by a loud suckered pop and you set out on your mission, making a swift exit out the door.

Approaching his quarters, you had to move quickly and quietly. You discreetly reach into your bra and redeemed a simple black bobby-pin.

Good ole reliable.

Throughout the years you've served in the military, you were taught a lot of different things. Tactical insertion being one of them. You knew how to breach any area. From battering rams to hacking security systems but, none that required something so mundane as a hair accessory.

While you expertly pick the lock, you kept your head on a swivel, making sure no one spots you committing this heinous act.

Once you hear the audible click, the corners of your mouth lifted into a confident smile.

Getting up to your feet, you casually make entry.

First thing you noticed was the overpowering smell of cedar wood. Coughing up a lung, you came to the conclusion that the air quality in here was 99.9 percent cologne and that last .1 being oxygen.

Getting past that, it was also rather dark.

Carefully waving your hand around, you try your best not to crash into anything. Eventually, you find yourself bumping into his bedpost, startling Logan out of his sleep and the same familiar baritone voice calls out in surprise, "What the fu—Y/n?"

"Wait! Shh...Just listen, please!" You say right away, hoping it'll calm him down.

"I know this is a bit crazy but just...listen. Okay? I've had a crush on you for a while now and I don't want to blend in with the other girls. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is," You swallow hard, your tone drops to barely a whisper, rolling your lips together as you crawled your way into his bed.

"Just let it happen."

In the dark, your lips find his, silencing any doubt or apprehension from leaving his mouth. A bolt of electricity shoots throughout your body, awakening the longing desire within you.

Not only was he surprised by your assertiveness but it came as a shock to you as well. Being an introvert, you wouldn't have guessed in a million years that you would've be the one to make the first move — all thanks to Keegan.

Logan's lips end up prying your lips apart, deepening the kiss with his tongue, ravishingly exploring your mouth and eliciting soft moans to muffle out as your mouth moves in sync with his.

His rough hands snake their way to your waist before hauling you over onto of him.

Your breath hitches when he breaks away from the kiss and his nose creeps up alongside your throat. Once he finds the most sensitive spot, his mouth latches onto your skin, nipping and sucking until little plum colored splotches decorate your neck.

The two of you wasted no time tearing the clothes off each other. The lingerie you wore for show, unfortunately went unnoticed as it was discarded just like the rest of your wardrobe.

You felt a firm grip on your left breast, before you were greeted by the warmth of his mouth. Not only did Logan have a pretty smile, but he knew what to do with it as his tongue swirled and his teeth gently gnawed on your erect nipple.

A symphony of orchestral moans filled the room.

The sexual connection and burning passion between you two was undeniable.

It was as if this moment was supposed to happen.

As if the two of you were meant to come together and become one.

A dream verging to come true.

Digging your nails into his back, you align him up against you seeping cunt, slowly slipping his swollen cock inside. A small whine of pleasure leaves your lips as you allow your slick walls to accommodate and adjust to his size.

"Ride me, beautiful." He rasped, his tone dripping with ascendancy and urgency.

Like flipping a switch, your back arches, rolling your hips and taking your time descending down only to spring back up when you couldn't fit any more of him.

His size was impeccable.

Your ex wasn't even close to the size and length that Logan held and from the one night stands you've had in the past, they could barely last two whole minutes.

You were in for one hell of a joy ride.

Logan's hand creeps its way from your navel, up and between your breasts to wrap around your throat accordingly.

Taking back control, he bucks his hips, crashing them underneath your thighs, barbarously driving himself deeper into your tight pussy. With your hands on his chest, you prop yourself to hover your ass over him as he kept his unwavering assault.

"Yes, yes, yes! God fuckin—Please don't stop." You whine breathlessly.

"Does the princess want to cum all over my cock?Mmm...such a needy little whore, you are..." He growls, his tone edging you closer to unraveling.

Your body felt as though God sent an angel down just to solemnly fulfill your sinful needs, relieving you of your last unholy act, right before your soul ascends to the heaven's gates.

Delirium intoxicates and overwhelms your senses, clenching your silky walls around his otherworldly cock, urging him to spill his load inside.

"Keep it coming and drown my cock. Fuck...I'm about to cum...Say my name, baby." He grits through his teeth, his thrust becoming more erratic by the second.

As your moans grow louder, your body quivers, riding the wave of your own insatiable orgasm.

"Oh God, Yes! Logan!" You screamed his name.

Your lips collided with his own as he lets out a deep groan. The heat of his load erupts and pulsated deep inside of you, filling you up to the brim. You slide off of him, allowing the contents to pour out of you. The two of you pant and gasp for air, coming down from the euphoric high of your releases while your bodies entangled together.

If you had to be honest, he was more than good, probably the best sex you've ever had.

Silence fills the void with the lingering scent of sex in the air.

Without saying a word, Logan sits up, detangling from your arms and walks out of the room then returns with a towel in hand.

Your eyes strain trying to make out his features as an unsettling tension builds between you two.

"Lo—" You say faintly, making an effort to comfort him.

However he sharply cuts you off, "Lemme stop you right there." His tone dripping with grimness.

Your face twists, utterly confused, watching his dark silhouette walk over to a drawer, pulling out a pair of sweats to slip in.

"I was bound to break it to you one way or another." He says sardonically, scuffling his way across the room, flicking on the light and blurring your vision temporarily until it steadily returns to adjust to your surroundings.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sweetheart. But unfortunately I'm not your knight and shining armor." He says with a disdained sniff.

Your mouth flops open, struggling to form any sentence, but ultimately one phrase rolls off your tongue.

"What the fuck..."

The .1 percent of oxygen left in the air was sucked out the room completely, leaving you to suffocate on the distressed revelation.

The love story you'd hope for came crashing down hard. Once again, he was right about one thing...

He was no Prince Charming.

He was Keegan motherfucking Russ..

#call of duty fanfic #call of duty #call of duty imagine #keegan p russ #cod mw2 #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ smut #keegan russ x you #keegan cod #mw2 imagine #fanfic #Spotify

140 notes · View notes

whosjunglejim4322 · 2 years

Text

Incarnadine - E.M

Warnings ® angst, fluff, SMUT, you suck him off<3 Established relationship, mentions of injury, scars, Eddie has nightmares and is still recovering from the Upside Down, lots of reassurance and praise, he's needy but he will never admit it, this story involves wounded Eddie, you show him how beautiful he really is, no matter what <3 good boy! Eddie

Today marks five months exactly. Chatter still moves around town like an echo of an old friend. People are still nervous when they're in crowded spaces, even more nervous when they're alone in their homes, big and ostentatious or small and quaint. They still talk about him like he's a monster, like he's not a victim.

It's excruciating. And maybe you're selfish for saying that, but knowing what you know, it's hard to hear anything negative come out of any snooty or high strung suburban residents mouth's.

The only saving grace is being able to be with him. Everyday, give or take. But this week he will be under your care entirely. After what happened to Chrissy Cunningham, and what happened after, which is regarded as 'the incident', the town of Hawkins did nothing to cover Eddie's medical bills. Despite the fact that he and your friends became faces of a bullshit cover story - to save everyone else's asses.

Wayne has been doing doubles for the past four months and twenty nine days, but his boss has given him an out of town gig that pays twice as much, and goddamn it he will make everything right again. That's his words, not yours. Wayne has taken it hard, understandably so.

You had to explain to him, and your boyfriend alike, that you love Eddie. Dearly, without judgement, with an open heart and mind. Eddie isn't a pass off, and you making sure he's alright is second nature, not obligatory in any definition of the word.

Eddie hates this feeling, admittedly. Like he's a burden, like he's got to be watched after and like everyone has to redirect their lives for him of all people. You'd kill him if he ever said that out loud. The only thing that makes it even remotely worth it, is that you're the one here by his side every day. And not just at the hospital anymore, but here, in his home.

Now, you're gonna be a permanent resident for the foreseeable future and he can't hide his excitement despite the physical pain he's in.

"Eddie, Eds, baby -" Your scolding falls on deaf ears and turns into a full blown giggle before you're able to establish any actual authority. The brunette is too worried about kissing your face like an overly excited golden retriever, elated that you're finally here. "you're not healed."

You keep your eyes from staring at the mauve and plum colored scar that decorates the side of his neck.

He groans petulantly, nipping your earlobe. His chest and back and sides are still on fire after all this time. It doesn't really go away, it just simmers down like someone has stopped on the flames. He's gotten used to it, but not enough to push it. Not enough to forego your advice and pounce you like he normally would.

"l probably won't ever be healed, what harms' a little lovin'?" He toys with the strands of your hair that are unruly, smiling down at you like he hasn't been through the literal pits of hell and back. It'll never not amaze you, his resilience. He doesn't even notice it in the creases of his smile lines or the shake of his hands.

"We have plenty of time for lovin', Munson. Just not right away. I haven't even gotten a good look at your pretty face."

His blush burns across his nose, cheeks, and brow bone. You reach up to cup his jaw, to stroke his skin. He leans into the touch like he hasn't felt your warmth in eons, sighing through his nostrils. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and opens them when you lean in to kiss his chin.

"I really...I'm glad you're here. You don't have to -"

You flick his nose.

"Shut up, I love you, dummy. Don't you know that I practically begged Wayne to let me tend to sweet little Eddie? Hmm?" You've grabbed two thick handfuls of his hair, swinging it above his head like puppy dog ears. He chortles, scrunching his face.

"and by the way, you're right. I don't have to do anything. I want to." His cheeks are squishy and moldable between your palms, lips pouty and too kissable to bear.

He believes you. He believes it in the way you peck his mouth over and over again, little strings of your shared saliva in the middle. He believes it in the way you allow him to wrap his arms around your middle and pull you close to his still healing body. In the way you trust him enough to let him grab your hands and place them on his waist.

You tense, and then relax when he pulls away with sparkles in his eyes.

"Just didn't want anyone else to be here playin' doctor with me, did ya sweetheart?"

The nights always start the same. Eddie gets up halfway between the movie that's on, wincing and giving you an apologetic smile. Cold showers help when they burn, which seems to happen mostly at night. You're still new this, to the interdimensional eldritch horror situation - but you know enough about it through Dustin Henderson's graphic retellings to know that it is having some residual effects.

As far as when they will go away, if they go away, everyone is still in the dark about it. No one has had such awful injuries from being in the Upside Down, and survived.

Doctor Owens is only sure about a few things. It won't spread. And it won't kill him. However, the pain will stay as long as the scars do.

Eddie is still apprehensive about letting you see them. The one on his neck is the only one that's visible. Instead of waltzing out of the bathroom with just a towel around his lithe hips, he returns fully dressed, wet hair drenching the tops of his broad shoulders. It's like this for almost an entire week.

And you're not angry, you're not hurt. You're just worried. Worried about the tossing and turning in his sleep, the fearful whimpers that sometimes escape him during the midnight hours. He sometimes even clings to you so hard in his half consciousness, that you wake up with fingerprint shaped bruises.

Tonight is no different.

His hair is still damp against his pillow case, he wriggles and writhes and mutters words you can't quite interpret. Your back is facing his, warm and solid. You feel him twitch and whine, and it tears you from the half conscious state you're in.

You roll over, carefully placing your arm around the expanse of his hip, resting your nose against the nape of his neck. This usually calms him down, sometimes he even sleeps through the whole night if you hold him like this.

"Burns..." His voice is small, almost silent. Your body reacts instantly, removing itself from his proximity so you can sit up and give him a once over. He rolls over onto his back, and a tear slips from the corner of his half opened eyes.

Your heart cracks in half, and all of your love for him spills into your body, lighting you up like a bonfire.

"What can I do? Please, tell me what to do." The lump in your throat is obtuse. He reaches out, grabbing at your arm like he's offended you left him. He blinks a few times, licks his lips, and you know he's awake now.

"Ice pack - there's an ice pack in the freezer." He sounds reluctant, like the idea of you doing anything for him when he's like this, hurts. It should be the other way around. He thinks to himself. He's in too much pain to put up a fight about it.

You bound out of bed, around his long legs and over the clutter on his floor until you're booking it towards the dark kitchen. Slinging open the freezer, you search for a quick minute until you see the blue ouch sitting atop a miscellaneous selection of frozen meat and vegetables.

A Hershey's bar in the door calls for your attention, but you save that thought for a later time.

"Got it," you breathe out, returning to the quiet room. Eddie is sitting up, panting, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. His bottom lip quivers and you feel like you're breaking in half. You sit across from him, moving his hair out from in front of his face. "baby, let me see."

He stalls for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. He has to prepare himself for the worst, for you being so terrified of how he looks now that you may run. He isn't the same, his body isn't the same as the one you touched before. He takes a deep breath.

"I gotta...gotta get this off." He gestures to his shirt, arms stiff from the searing pain coursing through his nerves. You move slowly, gently. You grasp the hem of his shirt, Black Sabbath, and carefully lift the material past his abdomen. A strained whine leaves his lips when it's almost over his head, when he has to lift his hands in the air so you can pull it off.

The moonlight is beautiful. A pale iridescent light that serves as a reminder, I'm here you're safe, I'm bathing lovers in my essence. It's the only thing that illuminates his body, the still healing skin. They're pink and purple and form ridges and valleys across his belly, sides, chest. It takes your breath away, the thought of those things doing this to him. You gasp when a tear cascades down your bottom lip.

Wiping it away fervently, you realize you've been staring. Eddie is so still you have to look up at him just to make sure he's still here.

Big brown eyes stare back at you, glossy. He looks crestfallen, like hes waiting for the worst. Waiting for you to scream, look disgusted, call him a monster. His bottom lip is wobbling again, and you are careful to avoid the injuries when you reach over and smash your lips into his.

It takes him a moment to realize that you're kissing him. Not just kissing him, you're fucking consuming him. Now he's the one breathless, clenching fist-fulls of his bed sheets while you hold his fevering face in your soft palms. Your noses are scrunched together, neither of you can breathe, and you hold it for just a moment longer so that you can taste his tongue before you're pulling away.

"Holy fuck." He pants. For some odd reason, the pain has lessened.

"Lay back, tell me which one hurts the most okay?" You say it like you his pupils aren't blown out, like his breathing isn't eerily steady. You say it like he isn't blush and kiss bitten. He listens, leaning back. How the fuck have you made him speechless?

You crawl beside him, sitting on your heels and pretend not to be disheveled. His hand has found purchase on your hip, rubbing circles against the skin that's exposed from your shirt rising up.

"The one in the middle...s'the worst." He watches you with intensity, every move, every breath. You hover over the healed wound with the blue ice pack. His belly tenses.

You're light with your hands. So gentle, all he feels is relief instead of discomfort or pain. The doctors had been rough, probably had something to do with their own biases. But you. You're a fucking angel, your touch is heavenly and all consuming. He's melting into the mattress, sighing in relief as the coolness graces his skin.

You feel your heart piecing back together, looking over to see his eyes half lidded, his tears dry. He keeps a steady pace with his thumb against your hip.

"Better? Worse? Talk to me." Your voice isn't scolding. It isn't judgmental. It's curious. He smiles like he's drunk, staring up at you. He's never looked more beautiful.

"Better, much better." There's a mischievous lilt in his tone. You quirk your eyebrow, giggling.

"What is it, Munson? You look like the cat who got the cream. Or however that goes," you trace the blue veins that branch outwards at the corner of his inner elbow. "it's cute, but I feel like I should be worried."

"I thought you'd think I was horrendous. A real freak show." He tries to sound like he's half joking, widens his eyes comically and snarls his lip sardonically - but you cock your head, confused.

Eddie thought you wouldn't love him anymore.

"Are you fucking insane?" It's the harshest you've sounded all night, and he can't help but to chuckle. It hurts his ribs, but the giggles bellow from him like smoke.

"Eddie, you're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. I don't say that to blow sunshine up your ass, I say it because I mean it," you stroke his face, and he seems bewildered. "you're so pretty it hurts. You always will be, to me. How could I? Why would I-?"

You sound like you're on the verge of tears again, and his bones feel heavy, stomach churning. He sits up, disregarding the burn, and places his warm palms against the sides of your neck. You look at him like he's just said something inhumane.

"Baby, hey," he presses his forehead to yours. "I love you, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, his curls tickle your face. "You don't have to be sorry Eddie, of course not. Just...I love you so fucking much."

He wants to cry again, but he doesn't. He mouths the side of your cheeks. Your eyelids. The tip of your nose. "I love you too sweetheart," he pecks your mouth. "more...more than I'll ever really be able to say." And again. And again.

You probably shouldn't be as slick between your legs as you are right now. But you can't bring yourself to feel guilty about it. Not when he's kissing you like this, the way he knows you like, in a way that you haven't felt for three entire months because of the state his body has been in.

His hair billows through your fingers, and you absentmindedly pull him closer to your mouth by the roots. He groans in your mouth, a sound that reverberates through your throat, downwards behind your ribs. It flurries through your body like a memory that's so close you can taste it; feel it.

You pull back hastily, wired from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. He looks so goddamn pretty, so messy and raw. You stroke his plump bottom lip with your thumb. He resists the urge to suck it into his mouth. He doesn't know if you're ready for that type of thing yet.

"I wanna suck you off, Eddie."

Well fuck.

He looks as incredulous as you expect, eyes practically bugging out of his head. His cheeks puff outwards when he lets a breath out.

"Really? You're serious?" He knows the answer. You're looking at him like he's the reason for your starvation.

"I want to...I want to make you feel good Eds," his cock was already growing, now it's practically bursting at the seams. You grab his big hands, bringing rough knuckles to the surface of your lips. "wanna make you cum. Will you let me? Do you want that?"

He feels a little dizzy. He honestly didn't know when you two would ever be able to do anything like this again. Hell, he couldn't fathom you liking his appearance anymore, let alone asking to suck his dick with the lilt of a beg in your voice.

"Jesus Christ, yeah baby 'course I want it. Y-you're sure you want this- ohh, ohh sweetheart."

You've already brought your palm to his pants, stroking the twitching appendage underneath. He's so touch deprived he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he settles for throwing his head back, gripping at the sheets once again for dear life.

You don't want to wait. You're set a fire on the inside, between your legs aches to be filled but you're too focused on making him feel good to really want anything done about it. Him. That's what matters right now. The desperate groan that escapes him, the vein bulging at his jugular.

"Lay back baby." You kiss his throat, and he does as you ask.

You're careful when you kiss his chest. You move around the scars, teetering around the perimeters. He's stuck between wanting to close his eyes, and wanting to watch every move you make. You're careful, delicate like he's the most important thing in the world.

As you kiss the trail of hair underneath his belly button, across alabaster hip-bones, you pull his bottoms off all the while.

From your position, it nudges against your chin when it's out of the confines of his pajamas, dribbling with precum, sticky all the way down the shaft. You coo, kissing the tops of his thighs. Eddie doesn't know what to do with himself. He's never felt this vulnerable, this fucking horny. His balls are about to burst.

"Eddie...you're so hard. Baby, mm, my boy." You grip the very base, starting your mouths ascent from there. He whimpers into the cool air of his bedroom, holding on by a very thin veil of consciousness. Your elbows rest between his thighs, belly atop his mattress. You close your eyes and hum when you get to the swollen, ruby tip.

"Oh god - please," he doesn't know what he's begging for. For your mouth, your being, your soul. His fingers grasp your face as your tongue gathers the pre arousal that's made such a mess of him. You have to hold his shaft steady so that the twitching doesn't move him away from your lips. "feels so fucking good, you've no idea."

The praise is getting to your head. You feel wetness leaking from your hole, dripping into your underwear. You pull his cock forward slightly, angling it so that you can take him in your mouth.

His whole body clenches when you slide it in.

He's moaning obscenities into the wind, writhing like he's too overwhelmed to think. He is. It's been so long. Too long, since he felt you like this. Since he felt your mouth. You're feeling the same sentiment as you begin to stroke what you can't fit, from the thatch of brunette hair to the glossy head. The salty aftertaste of his pre-cum keeps you satiated.

It's intoxicating, being able to make him feel like this. Feeling him fill your mouth and throat up like this. Just knowing the sounds he's making are not only for you but because of you - that's enough to have you on the verge of an indescribably neediness yourself.

"Taste' so good Eds, missed this."

It's barely coherent, but he knows your voice too well - knows your sweet talk too well. The most excruciating part is that you mean it, you say it with so much truth he feels it in every part of his body.

You suck him off like you've missed it as much as he has. Because you have. You're not shy, not ashamed. The sounds are lewd and sticky and wet, it's driving him fucking mad. He reaches down to grasp one of.your hands that are around his cock, replacing it with the intertwinement of his fingers.

You take him further, till the head of his cock touches your uvula, and you gag. Eddie groans like he's in pain, but you know he isn't. He's thrusting up into your mouth, chasing all of your warmth, all of your spit even though most of it has leaked from your mouth and coated his balls and inner thighs.

"Ohhhh shit, m'gonna cum baby I can feel it," he looks down, fucked completely out by this point. You're a fucking goddess, messy hair and a wet mouth and fluttering lashes. "don't stop, p-please."

You wouldn't dream of it, not when he's so close. Not when you can feel the muscles in his abdomen clenching, convulsing. Not when he sounds so pretty, so unbelievably yours.

You moan around him, elated by the fact that you're able to please him like this, and Eddie is a goner.

"Cu-cumming!" He's barely able to breathe it out.

He shoved his face into the pillow beside him, biting down on the fabric. The sound that rips through him is animalistic, and you have to use a good bit of your strength to keep his thighs parted as he spurts his seed into your mouth, down your throat.

You don't let up until you've swallowed every drop, every remnant of his arousal. His chest is rising and falling with such a rapid pace, you're almost worried you've hurt him.

But then he's looking down at you, with your mouth releasing from his semi softening cock. He's got glossy eyes again, blotches of red on his neck and chest and face. His hair is sticking to him like saran wrap and this big, dopey smile is etched across his face. His tongue darts out to lick the perspiration from his upper lip.

He doesn't have to ask for you to start moving towards him. When you're in close enough proximity, where he can actually manage to move a limb, he's grabbing your face and pressing your lips to his like a man starved.

Your giggle echoes his own.

"When I'm mobile again," he suckles your tongue, tasting himself.

"I'm showing you no mercy, sweetheart"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson x you #stranger thigs smut

953 notes · View notes