#what are your moments that you go back to?? please tell me so I can go back to them too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

covenofagatha · 2 days ago

Note

Hii can you please write athlete-student fem reader x Professor Agatha, where she is her favorite student and they have a close connection despite Agatha's cold demeanor. So one day y/n comes limping to Agatha's class bcuz she got injured during the practice and her coach kept pushing her, without letting to rest, so the injury got worse and now y/n can barely step on her leg. Agatha takes notice of that and asks y/n to stay after the lecture, where Agatha discovers the truth about abusive coach. So Agatha helps Y/N to her car and takes her home, where Agatha takes care of her and they finally kiss or maybe even smut if you are good with it please. Kinda like hurt/comfort with possesive Agatha

Thank you for all your amazing writing💜

As a former swimmer with a coach that was fired for emotional/verbal abuse I fucking loved this request so thank you and I hope you like!

Swimming into her arms

You hurt your leg during practice and your coach makes it worse, so Professor Agatha has to take care of you

Word count: 3400

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight possessiveness, oral sex, soft

“Coach, can I talk with you for a second before we get in?” You ask, stepping gingerly over to him. He barely even glances at you, just waves his hand to tell you to get on with it. “I just hurt my knee during weights and the trainer said that I shouldn’t kick that much until I can go see a doctor.”

Now he looks at you, displeasure written all over his face. Your swim coach is not known for being nice and you inwardly wince to brace yourself. “What did you do?”

“We were doing band jumps from the pullup bars and I landed weirdly and there was a pop from my knee. It hurts to walk and I’m really not sure I should swim.”

He scoffs and straightens up against the fence where he was leaning. You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you were standing in more than just your swimsuit. You should’ve worn clothes to come talk to him, but deep down you knew how this was going to go.

“We have a meet this weekend and you’re our best backstroker somehow, despite your awful underwater kicks. You’re swimming.”

The dig about your underwaters doesn’t even phase you now, having heard it enough times already. But the thought of bending your knee like that makes you brave enough to protest. “Can I just pull for today? I’ll try to get to the doctor this afternoon.”

You feel your stomach sink as he rolls his eyes. “I don’t need damaged goods on this team so if you’re not going to get in the pool and you’re going to be weak, then just get off the deck and come back next week. Don’t expect to be put in any more meets though.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your jaw from dropping. You nod and turn around to hide the tears stinging in your eyes and put your cap on. You’re on a scholarship at the university for swimming, so if you quit or he lets you go, you’ll most likely have to drop out.

“That’s what I thought,” you hear your coach huff quietly behind you. “Let’s go. You’re five minutes late getting in.”

The moment you jump into the pool and push off the wall for warm up, you know you’ve made a mistake. Your leg is screaming. Every kick is pure agony and you try your absolute best to not move it more than you have to. But each flip turn makes you want to cry. You barely make it through the warm up and your heart drops when you see the main set that your coach wrote on the board.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he changed it up and made it harder just to mess with you.

Your lanemate asks if you want to go first and all you can do is shake your head. If you speak, you’re afraid you’re going to fall apart. You refuse to take your goggles off because your eyes are red and teary.

One round in, your coach stops you on the wall. “Are you even trying?” He demands.

“My knee,” is all you can get out before your voice wavers.

He squats down so he’s closer to you. “I’m 55 years old. My knees hurt every day and you don’t see me whining about it. Now either do the set right, or you’re off the relay.”

This time, when you push off the wall, you kick with both legs. By the end of the 25, you’re already sobbing into the water, choking on gasps when you turn your head to breathe. You’ve never felt pain like this before in your life and you are convinced that something is really wrong.

At one point, you think you almost black out.

You fall behind in the set because you physically can’t kick fast enough to make the interval so your coach makes you stay behind late to finish it, despite you telling him that you have to get to class.

When he finally lets you out of the pool, there’s twenty minutes until your class starts and you still have to shower, get dressed, and somehow walk across campus.

Some of your professors would be chill if you walked in late. Hell, most of them were happy if 75% of the class actually showed up.

But not Professor Agatha Harkness. She was feared by everyone on campus, even those who weren’t in her class, for her stony cold demeanor. There were rumors that she made students cry just by looking at them.

Although, she wasn’t like that with you. While she was still tough, there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at you, a certain fondness in her smile. You weren’t sure what it was about you that made her like that, but you and Agatha had grown quite close over the past semester. You would go bother her during her office hours and she would patiently answer all your questions and help you with her assignments. You knew you could talk to her about anything, and you often did. Friend drama, other classes, swimming, you name it. The way she made you feel heard and seen, plus with how hot she was, had you falling for her.

The only thing you hadn’t really opened up on was how mean your coach could be.

But just because of your relationship with her didn’t mean she would allow you to be late to her class.

For now though, your task was to get out of the pool without screaming. Your coach would throw a fit if you didn’t “get out like an athlete” by putting your knee in the gutter instead of your foot, but you weren’t sure you could do either. You maneuver yourself up using the handles on the starting blocks so you’re sitting and then push yourself up. You try to put weight on your hurt leg and you gasp loudly.

That’s not going to happen.

Your coach walks over to you and you think that he might offer some sort of help or an apology or anything, but all he says is, “See you tomorrow.”

Your head falls back in frustration and you experiment with some different movements to see which is the best for your knee. You can slide it a little on the wet ground for now to get to the locker room, but when you go outside with shoes on, you’re going to have to figure out something new.

You shower in record time while still getting all your tears out and throw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, putting moisturizer on your face while your hair is twisted up in your towel. The warm water did a little to help your leg so you’re able to put the tiniest bit of weight on it now. However, it doesn’t hide the evidence that you were clearly crying.

Still, your class starts in five minutes. The building her lecture is in is four minutes away with a good leg.

Hobbling while whimpering every step takes eight.

You try to open the door as quietly as possible, and you succeed, but your bag swings and clangs onto the metal trash can that is right in the doorway. Because of course it is.

Silence falls through the room as the sound echoes, and Agatha looks up from her place at the front of the room. You offer a shaky smile and limp down the aisle to your spot in the second row. Going down the slanted floor is a new type of pain that has you grabbing onto chairs.

“Stay after class so I can hear your excuse about why you’re late,” Agatha says coldly once you’ve sat in your usual seat, sighing when the burn in your knee dies down to a dull ache. Your heart squeezes but you do see some concern in her eyes. You realize that her tough exterior just now was an act. You nod, not able to look at her for fear that she’ll see right through you, and you dig in your backpack for paper and a pen for notes.

The hour lecture goes so slowly, your knee now starting to throb from sitting. You’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do to get it to stop hurting.

Finally, Agatha releases everyone but you stay seated. While you’re in pain sitting, you know it’s much worse if you stand up. She doesn’t seem to mind, just comes to stand on the other side of her podium and lean against it.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before and you just start hysterically crying. She looks more taken-aback than you’ve ever seen her and walks over to crouch next to you and rub a hand comfortingly up and down your arm. “Sweetheart?”

Your breath catches at the pet name and you hiccup. You swipe furiously at your eyes, embarrassed to show this much emotion in front of the older woman. When you open your mouth to start talking though, you can’t stop. “I hurt my leg in weights and I tried to tell my coach that the trainer said I shouldn’t swim and that it hurts but he made me get in anyways because we have a meet coming up and told me I wasn’t doing good enough and I had to stay late to finish the set and my knee hurts so fucking much I can barely walk.” You don’t even have it in you to apologize for the swearing and Agatha doesn’t care either.

She cups your tear-stained cheek, thumbing at it, and you meet her eyes with your watery ones. You’re a little surprised to see pure anger in them.

“That is not okay,” she says seriously. “He should be fired for doing that. He deliberately put you in a situation where you’re only going to be more injured and now look at you. This is unbelievable. I’m going to talk to the athletic director, someone needs to know about this.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, Professor, you really don’t have to, it’s not–”

“It is a big deal,” she cuts you off firmly. “There need to be consequences. He fucking hurt you and he’s going to pay!” Your heart skips a beat at how protective she’s being and she seems to realize what she said because she immediately changes gears. “Do you need help?”

It’s the first time anyone has asked you that all day. Even the trainer or your weight’s coach didn’t offer. It almost makes you start crying again.

“Yes, please,” you say and she holds out your hands, pulling you up out of the chair. You put your hurt leg on the floor and buckle into Agatha’s arms. “M’ so sorry, oh my god,” you stammer as she’s practically holding you now.

She uses her strength to get you standing straight again, and without saying anything, slings your backpack over her shoulder and puts her other arm under yours so she can act as a crutch for you.

“I’m sorry about your coach,” she finally says as she’s working on steering you out of the building.

You wince going down the steps and shrug. “He’s not a bad coach. Like his sets are good and stuff and I’ve gotten faster for him. Just not a great…person. Where are we going?” You’ve finally realized that she’s not helping you back to the dorms.

“My car,” she says matter-of-factly. Your heart skips a beat and you crane your head to look up at her. She has a variety of emotions struggling on her face and you’ve never felt so taken care of.

“Why did you park so far away?” You groan and she chuckles. It feels like you’ve been limping for a mile. Luckily, there’s not too many other people outside right now to see Agatha helping you like this, but you do find it oddly touching that she would risk her heartless reputation for you.

At last, you get to the lot where the professors park and she basically drops you into the passenger seat, sliding into the driver’s side once she puts your bag in the back.

“Thank you for helping me,” you say quietly once she’s reversing out of her spot. She pauses for a second to look at you, a new expression on her face that you’ve never seen before.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Once again, she goes in an unfamiliar direction. Maybe she’s taking you to a doctor?

Nope.

You’re still confused, even when Agatha turns into a quaint suburban neighborhood, but you think you figure it out when she stops in front of a house.

You turn to gape at your professor. “Is this yours?” She gives you a look that says obviously and then gets out of the car quickly so she can come get you out. She doesn’t grab your bag from the back but you don’t need it. She helps you hobble inside and brings you over to the couch so you can lay down on it. You swing the bad leg up and then the good one and she hands you a pillow to put under the hurting knee.

The elevation helps a little and while Agatha walks out of the living room, your eyes close, head resting on the back of the couch. It feels like you have been drained of all your energy from weights, practice, and then your knee.

You think you might doze off just a bit because you startle when you hear Agatha entering. She’s carrying a bag of ice in one hand and a plate with a sandwich and raspberries in the other. You scooch into an upright position and graciously accept the food, instantly taking a huge bite. You moan at the taste and then notice that Agatha is standing next to you, bag of ice in hand, looking at your sweatpant-clad legs.

Her eyes dart to yours and then back down. “Do you think you can take these off?” She asks, tapping your leg and your cheeks turn almost as red as hers.

“Um, oh, sure,” you answer, mouth full of food. You set the plate down on the coffee table and raise your hips so you can get your pants off. You refuse to look at her as you basically undress in front of her.

And then you begin to struggle. You can bend one leg just fine, but you don’t even want to risk moving your right knee in the slightest. The problem is, you’re nowhere near flexible enough to take your pants off while keeping one leg straight.

Thankfully, Agatha completely understands without you having to ask, saving you from that embarrassment. She reaches across your body and gently slides the sweatpants off your bad leg. And then your entire bottom half is naked except for your underwear.

You know why you’re blushing, but why is Agatha?

She clears her throat and arranges the bag of ice on your knee, but it won’t stay because your leg is slanted up on the pillow.

“Um, can you…” she trails off like she’s trying to figure out how to word it. You also understand what she needs, so you move your left leg so it hangs off the couch and she can sit in-between your legs and hold the ice to your knee.

“Are you okay?” You ask after the two of you have been sitting in silence for a little bit. It’s comfortable, but you can still see the outline of grimace on Agatha’s face.

She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s just hard,” she admits. “Seeing you in pain like this.”

“Why?” You dare to ask, the question barely louder than a whisper. She looks at you and then back to the ice.

“I care about you a lot,” she says, like it pains her. It feels like all the air has left your lungs.

“I care about you, too,” you reply, hoping more than anything that she means it the same way as you.

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“A kiss?” It’s meant to be a joke, like when your mom would kiss a paper cut or a scrap just to make it feel better. And then you inwardly kick yourself because you know you did not just ask stone-cold Agatha Harkness to kiss your knee.

But she smirks and then you realize that you never specified which part of your body you wanted her to kiss.

She leans in, hand grabbing onto the arm of the sofa next to you to hold herself up and she brushes her lips against yours. It’s barely anything, easily written off, but when she pulls back, her eyes are dilated.

“Did that make your knee feel better?” She asks playfully.

You pretend to think about it for a second and then you tilt your head. “You know what? It did. Better do it again so it helps even more.”

This time, her tongue parts your lips and licks into your mouth. Her other hand slides under your shirt to feel your stomach and heat starts to course through you. You moan into her mouth and wrap your arms around her so pull her even closer. She shifts and accidentally bumps your knee and you hiss in pain.

“Fuck, sorry!” She exclaims, jerking back like she was burned.

“No, you’re okay,” you groan. “I just don’t know if this is the best way to do this.” You pout because you want to keep kissing her, you need to feel her.

A sly smile spreads onto her face. “I know something else that might help.” You raise your eyebrows in question and inhale sharply as she carefully moves down your body so her head is right by your underwear. She toys with the waistband, checking to make sure it’s okay. You nod more eagerly than you ever have in your life. “If it hurts your knee, let me know.”

“Okay,” you breathe and you shiver when she pulls your wet underwear to the side and the cold air hits your pussy.

And then she lazily licks through your folds, swirling her tongue on your clit and your back arches off the couch.

“Fuck,” you moan, one hand tangling in her hair and the other grabbing the side of the couch. She continues softly lapping at you, fingers digging into your hips to keep them still so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself by moving. Agatha takes her time tasting you, making a noise every and then that makes your head fall back.

Your pleasure slowly builds from her hot, careful mouth on you, but Agatha doesn’t seem to mind. She alternates dipping her tongue into your pussy and then sucking your clit and back again. She gets more enthusiastic about it once she feels confident that she’s not hurting you and begins to be a little rougher.

“I’m getting close, Agatha,” you whimper and it’s the first time you’ve ever called her by her first name. She must realize it too because she groans into your pussy and sucks hard on your clit, sending you over the edge. Sounds fall out of your mouth as you cum, hips trying but failing to buck against her tight grip to ride it out.

“Is your knee okay?” is the first thing she asks when she stops licking at you. You laugh at the timing of the question.

“Yes, it feels totally fine.”

Agatha leans down to peck your lips. “Okay, good. Still, I’m going to make an appointment at my doctor this afternoon. I’ll take you.”

Even though she just ate you out, this is the sexiest you’ve ever seen her. So caring, so protective. Your heart yearns for more of this woman.

“You don’t have to do all that,” you protest though, not wanting to ask for more than she’s already given you. She waves her hand to shush you.

“Nonsense. I’m going to take care of you because apparently no one else can. And I want to.”

You smile fondly at her and tug at hair to bring her in for a deeper kiss this time. “I want you to as well.”

And she does.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along

409 notes · View notes

rafesbabyg1rl · 3 days ago

Note

You were asking for reqs for rafe x reader, if you are taking them, I have one in mind. In which rafe is extremely possesive of bsf reader, and gets easily jealous. One day she was at a kook party, and a guy approached her and they started to talk and that sh*t went down, rafe got aggressive and almost beat the guy to a pulp. Reader is like a shy cute innocent, bimbo type. And smut after the scene if you write it.

Summary: Innocent!reader X possessive!Rafe, bestfriend!reader X bestfriend!Rafe. Summary is basically the anonymous ask!

Warnings: Rafe is possessive of reader. Established friendship. Rafe almost beats a guy to death. Mentions of drugs (no actual drug use), alcohol consumption. Lots of smut; p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, SLIGHT degradation (some praise too). The classic 'what are we' at the end. The L word.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Hello Beauties! Thank you for the support and kindness you've all shown me. And thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did your idea justice. Sorry that this is a bit long, it just sort of happened. Also, I hope you all enjoyed the holiday yesterday, well those that celebrate. I'm hoping to finish part four of The Watcher soon so I can get it out, life has just been so exhausting. Anyways, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

Your best friend, Rafe, had asked you to go to a party with him. Well, more like he had told you to go. Although it’s not like you’d ever miss the opportunity to party with your best friend. So, here you are; walking around the side of Topper’s house, looking for Rafe. You two didn’t come together, he got here before you. He knows you don’t love being around his ‘friends’ and their various illegal substances, even though he says he’s clean, he likes to have time with them before you get there.

You round a corner, now entering the Thorton’s backyard. You look for Rafe as you work your way through the loud and busy crowd. You hear a friend call your name, you turn your head to her, and she waves you over. You approach her and a few others with a smile. You greet them.

The other girls chat amongst themselves as your friend speaks up, shouting over the music. “Hey!” She’s over enthusiastic per regular, probably a bit drunk too.

“Hey!” You shout back.

She begins, “Oh my god! I have to tell you something. Guess who I saw—”. Usually, you’d want to hear all the gossip she’s about to ramble to you, but not right now. “Do you know where Rafe is?” You shout over her, cutting her off.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer to you so she can hear you.

“Do you know—” You’re suddenly interrupted by some guy standing beside you. You turn to face him.

“Hey.” He says, his tone confident. A cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Hi.” You smile politely, “Do I know you?”. You say hurriedly before turning back to your friend. She looks between you and the guy a few times before facing you and giving you a knowing smirk. You know what that look means and before you can say anything, she walks away. Leaving you alone with him. You roll your eyes at her playfully, although you really are annoyed that she didn’t tell you where Rafe is.

Slowly, you turn your head back to the guy, flashing him another fake smile. He grins again before speaking, “No…no you don’t.” He pauses, stepping a bit closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the music as loud. “I’m Devin.”

Your fake smile is getting awkward, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about talking to him right now. “Nice to meet you, Devin. B-but I need to–”

Devin cuts you off, “Let me get you a drink.”

You laugh shyly, “Oh...I-I’m okay, I actually have to…”

“Let me just get you a drink, it’ll only take a second.” He moves closer to rest his hand on your lower back for a slight moment, to get you to turn toward the drinks.

Rafe was on the back patio sitting on one of the couches when someone had mentioned to him that they saw you. He went to go and find you, which is when he spotted you laughing with some guy, who moments later put his hand on you. Rafe’s already had a few drinks tonight, so his judgment clouded even more than usual, especially when it comes to you.

As you walk towards the drinks, Devin’s hand falls and he follows close behind you.

After a moment, you hear a mix of gasps and ‘ooohh’s’ from everyone. You turn to look behind you where everyone seems to be gathering. You find that Devin isn’t behind you anymore.

Immediately your eyes land on some commotion in the crowd, you squeeze through the ring of people forming around the area. Shit. You run forwards, pausing just before the fight.

Devin is flat on his back, Rafe straddling him. Rafe has Devin’s shirt clenched in one fist, holding his head off the ground as he repeatedly drives his other fist into Devin’s face.

“Rafe!” You shout. Keeping your distance, not wanting to get too close while he’s out of control. You’ve seen how he can get. In the years that you two have been friends, you’ve had to calm him down from countless fights, since nobody else can ever seem to do it. But, when nobody else steps in to try and stop the fight, you step closer, knowing something has to be done. “Rafe, stop! Stop it!” You scream.

Devin’s completely unconscious, his nose is probably broken, but you can’t really tell; his face is a swollen mess of blood and bruises. You can’t stand here and watch anymore, and nobody seems to be listening to your cries for help. Because nobody is stupid enough to get in Rafe’s way while he’s like this. You step behind Rafe, putting your hands on his shoulders. You try to pull him back all the while trying not to get punched.

“Rafe! Look at me! Look at me, Ray!” Rafe turns his head to the side, momentarily stopping his actions, letting Devin’s head rest on the floor. You put a hand up to cup his cheek. Speaking quietly now as you plead to him. “Rafe…c’mon, that’s good, h-he’s had enough…”. Your tears slow, but your breath is still erratic as you look at the unconscious man.

Rafe turns back to the guy, your hand falling from his face. Rafe pulls Devin’s head up, like he was going to punch him again. Instead, he lets go, letting the boy's head hit the floor. Rafe stands up without a word and grabs you by your wrist, tugging you away.

Before you know it, you’re being shoved into your best friend's truck. His random mumbles don’t make much sense to you, talking about ‘he got what he deserved…Should’ve fuckin’ killed him…yeah, should’ve fucking killed him for that. Touchin’ what’s mine…’

When you get to Tannyhill, Rafe wastes no time pulling you into his room. You sit on his bed stiffly, waiting silently as he paces the room.

“Rafe?” You call out softly. “You okay? What happened back there? What was that?”

“He touched you.” Rafe states. His tone is low and rough, sending a chill down your spine. Even after all the years you’ve been his best friend, you still never know how to act when he’s like this.

“Barely. He barely touched me.”

Rafe completely disregards what you say, shaking his head and blowing out a jagged breath as he continues to pace across his room, a bit slower now. “Why was he even talking to you? You were supposed to be with me. I told you to go to the party, not him.”

You take your chance to get a word in as he spews out angry nonsense. “I was looking for you and he started talking, ‘wanted to get me a drink. I was just being nice; I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even want to talk to him, I was looking for you, Rafe. I don’t even see why that matters–”.

He pauses, looking over at you. His movements are sharp as he strides over to you. “Don’t see why it matters…?” He repeats your words, more for himself than to you. “It matters because you’re mine.” His words are sharp, definitely directed to you that time.

“Rafe…you almost killed him…because of me? I don’t get it Rafe; I don’t nearly kill all the girls you fuck.” You state.

Rafe lets out a breathy chuckle before speaking. “Still don’t get it, huh?” Rafe laughs. “God you’re so innocent. So naive.” He pauses, stepping closer until he’s standing in front of you, looking down at you as you sit on his bed. “I need you, y/n. I can’t…god, I can’t even fuck anyone else anymore without thinking about you. I can’t let anyone else have you, got that? You understand now?” He asks harshly as he runs a rough hand through your hair.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. You look up and nod weakly, causing Rafe to flash a devilish grin. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, his voice coming out low.

“Yeah…” You mumble back brainlessly, too shocked by your best friend's confession. You had always thought Rafe saw you purely as a friend. Although thinking back, you don’t know how you ever thought that with how he acts, especially lately.

No time is wasted as Rafe quickly leans down, capturing your lips with his. The first kiss is hesitant, and you don’t kiss back. But when he pulls away to look at you, trying to gauge your emotion, you lean in. Your best friend takes that as a sign to continue. His lips quickly find yours again. When he feels you start to kiss back, he escalates things. Kissing you more roughly now, acting as though he’s a starved man and your lips are his meal.

His hand moves from the back of your head to your throat, lightly squeezing. At first you don’t even realize, too distracted by the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. But when Rafe squeezes your neck even tighter, you move your hands to reach up and wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull it away. Your mouth still occupied by his, the kiss is too fucking good to break. It feels like everything you didn’t know you needed. He’s giving you what nobody else could, because only he knows exactly what you need and exactly how to give it to you. Your lack of breath reminds you of your situation and you pull away from the kiss momentarily.

Rafe’s grip loosens as he pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Tell me you want this.” He mumbles breathlessly.

You search his eyes as you catch your breath. Nodding, you finally speak up. “I want this.” You say definitively.

Not even half a second later, Rafe’s body crashes down onto you, pushing you down so that you’re laying on his bed. Rafe has one arm beside your head, holding himself up as his other remains on your neck. He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Rafe leans down, his lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking frantically at your skin. He’s been waiting so, so long for this.

His lips find your ear, softly biting at it before whispering. “Let me take care of you, baby. You want that, hm?”. While waiting for your response, his free hand traces down the side of your body until it reaches the hem of your skirt. He moves his face to the other side of your head, giving some attention to your other ear. “Need your best friend to help you feel good…give you what you need, yeah?” His hand slips under your skirt, slowly gliding up your inner thigh, sending shivers through your whole body.

“Yes–” A moan escapes your lips, interrupting you. Your eyes meet his before you continue. “Please Rafey…need you…”

His lips meet yours at the same time his hand meets your clothed cunt. He kisses you sloppily, exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, your touch sending shocks through him. He rubs you through your panties. He can feel as you grow more needy, the wet spot on your panties getting larger.

He can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s wanted to do this to you for so long; he’s dreamt of this moment happening in almost every way possible, but this…he never could’ve imagined this feeling. “Fuck…you’re so wet f’me already.”

“Ray…please…” You can’t help but rut your panty-clad cunt against his hand, searching for friction. Usually you’re never this bold, but you’re comfortable with him. You always have been, he is your best friend after all. You just pray that he understands what you need.

Except Rafe doesn’t respond in the way you had hoped for. No, instead he pulls his hand out from under your skirt, eliciting a whine from you. He presses a genuine, wet kiss against your parted lips before moving down your body. Rafe slides down, kneeling onto the floor in front of the bed. He grabs you by the back of your knees and tugs you down towards him until your ass is at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly removes your skirt. He spreads your legs, making them bend so your heels are on the edge of the bed. Eagerly, he presses wet, sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, his eyes trained up on you.

The sight of him like this between your thighs, doing exactly what you need…it drives you crazy. You lean your head back, letting out a moan as Rafe mouths at your entrance through the fabric your panties.

It’s not long before he’s peeling back your panties as well, sliding them off of you completely. Your legs threaten to close from insecurity, but your best friend is sure to hold them open.

“Fuck…this pussy’s even prettier than I imagined, baby. Soaked…just for me.” Rafe leans in, his mouth hovering just above your core. He silently asks for permission.

Being your best friend, Rafe knows that you’ve never done this before. No guy had ever wanted to date you while Rafe’s your best friend, they could see that you’re his, even if you couldn’t.

His breath is hot on your bare center, he watches as you squirm and clench around nothing. Eagerly you nod, giving him permission. And within seconds his mouth is on you.

At first, he’s slow; gentle as his eyes continue to meet yours. He licks a warm stripe up your center, briefly pulling back to watch your reaction. Your head falls back, your mouth parted, and eyes closed as you experience this new sensation that your best friend is so generously giving you.

Rafe begins to lick and suck at you. His tongue circles your clit as he looks up, knowing you’d like it. A moan slips past your lips as your hand flies to the back of his head, the other gripping onto the sheets beside you.

“Nnnghh…f-fuck, Ray…” You whine as his tongue fucks you relentlessly. He only mumbles against you in response, sending vibrations through your core. This felt even better than you had ever thought it would. When you heard people talk about sex, you didn’t think it could actually be this good. Though maybe that just has to do with the fact that Rafe’s your best friend, and he knows exactly what you need.

“Yeah?” One of his hands leaves your leg and moves to grope your tits through your clothes. “You like this, huh? You’re just a slut for your best friend, hm? Letting me have you like this…”

“N-need you…” You mutter, grieving the loss of his tongue on you. He stares at you with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe’s mouth continues to work on you. His tongue gathers some slick from your entrance and brings it up to your clit, circling it with his tongue a few times before repeating the process.

The feeling in your lower stomach is starting to build. It’s getting hard for you to sit still for him. It’s even harder for you to stay quiet. A plethora of moans escape you as Rafe’s mouth stays busy between your thighs. Your hand holds his head down, your other grips the sheets underneath you.

“Rafe…please. S’too much, I can’t—” You whine.

“Ah ah ah…stop running, baby. I got you. I got you.” Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you in place. “God,” He mutters breathlessly. “You taste…you taste so fuckin’ good. Hiding this from me all that time, hm?” He leans back down and continues his ministrations on you.

Your toes start to curl, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Suddenly he stops and before you get the chance to look down to see why, one of his fingers is prodding at your entrance. “Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod, allowing one of his thick, long digits to slowly slide into you. You almost scream when he starts to move it, his mouth working on you at the same time. Rafe adds another finger, now thrusting two in and out of you.

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good. Jus’ gotta get you used to this, hm? You gonna let your best friend be the first to fuck you?” Rafe asks. You nod in response, agreeing to his words. Rafe’s fingers spread apart inside you, stretching your hole, preparing you for his cock. His tongue pauses again as he looks up at you and correct his previous statement. “The only one to fuck you.” Rafe puts his head back between your thighs, his fingers fucking you mercilessly as his tongue sucks at your bud.

You nod again, followed by a whine. “F-fuck…Ray. I-I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Hm?”

“Mhmm…yes, fuckk–” You respond, your fingers fighting to grasp onto the little hair he has. Your thighs begin to squeeze around him, causing him to pull his head up against the force of your hand on him.

“Just a little more, baby. You can take it. I know you can. You gonna let me help you finish? You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please Rafey…please let me cum.” Your begging makes him chuckle briefly before going back down on you. His tongue moves with precision, working on you with a purpose; to make you cum.

Without warning, the band in your stomach snaps. You scream out his name as his tongue circles your sensitive bud and his fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Your best friend continues to work you through your first real orgasm. You’ve never felt anything like this. Why the hell did you wait so long to do this with him?

“God…baby. You’re so fuckin’ perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those pretty sounds.” Rafe carefully slides his fingers out of you, making you clench around nothing at the loss of him. He gets up from his knees, standing over you again. Rafe’s face glistens with your slick. His hand moves up to brush your hair back while he brings his free hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders. You oblige and he pushes two digits into your mouth. “Taste that? Taste how fuckin’ good you taste?” He pulls his fingers back, immediately moving down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. Rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind your ear. He whispers, “You okay?”

“Mhm…better than okay.” You reassure him. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm.

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin. “‘Cause I’m not even close to done with you, baby. We’re just getting started.” He doesn’t wait before he’s pulling off your shirt, kissing down your chest. Soon after, he unclasps your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you and tossing it onto the floor somewhere.

His lips are vicious, attaching to any and every bit of your skin. His hands gently cup your breasts, his mouth finding and attaching to one of your nipples. His eyes stay trained up on your face, he likes seeing how you react to his touch. He pulls back, straddling your lap. Your hand shoots out to grab the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it upwards. He smirks and quickly does it himself, tossing it aside. He watches you like prey as your eyes skim over his bare chest.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, you have, many times. But no matter how many times you see him like this, you’ll never get used to it. You’ve never seen him in this way though. It’s different, more intimate. You’ve never shared this kind of intimacy with anybody before. And you’re glad you’re doing it with your best friend, whom you’re comfortable with.

The low light of his bedside lamps reflecting off of his toned skin, damp with sweat. You let out a slow breath as you take in the sight. “Fuck.” You mutter.

Rafe leans down, kissing and nipping at your earlobe. He whispers, “Like what you see?” He laughs.

You nod your head eagerly. “Mhmm…”

“Use your words baby, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

“I…y-yes.” You whine as you wriggle underneath him, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in search of some much-needed friction.

Rafe knows what you need. He knows that you’re ready now; ready to give him everything, let him take your innocence, your virtue. He uses one hand to prop himself up as the other works at his belt. Once you realize what he’s doing, you try to help him out, eagerly unbuckling his belt as he kisses you passionately, like he’s never kissed anyone else before you; like you’re the only girl on this fucking planet.

Once his belt is off, you work at his pants. He leans up so he can tug them off, throwing them aside with the rest of the discarded clothes. All that’s left between the two of you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel his hardened form pressing into your leg as he kisses you, practically devouring you. Without thinking about it, you find your hand tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You beg. “Please”, your lips whisper into his ear as he bites at your neck. “Rafey…”

He leans back again, this time getting off of you and standing at the side of the bed and in front of you. You can’t help but touch yourself as Rafe frees himself from the constraint of his boxers. You watch as his hard cock springs up, hitting his stomach when it’s finally freed. He smirks, leaning down to remove your hand from yourself.

“I got you, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, moving his hand over your core again. His strong fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches as you watch him touch you, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Rafe?” You manage to ask through your cries.

“Hm? What is it?” Rafe says your name softly, encouraging you to continue.

“Will it hurt?” You’ve heard that the first time can be uncomfortable. And judging by Rafe’s size, this was going to be more than just uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to back out of the situation, you need this. You need him.

Your best friend’s expression becomes more serious as he looks at you. His hand comes up from your core to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “It might, baby. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, but I’ll do my best to make it feel good, yeah? I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it I want you to tell me. You’re okay, baby. It’s just me, your best friend. I’m gonna take care of you. M’kay?” You nod in response, his eyes darting between your eyes to get a sense of what you’re thinking. Rafe clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah. Use your words, pretty girl.” His hand reaches out for your chin, tilting your face up towards him.

“Please Ray…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me…” The words sound so vulgar coming from your sweet, innocent mouth. He’s never known you to speak this way, but he’s not against it. He pumps his fist over his cock a few times, his head leaning back as he lets out a groan. “Please Rafe…I-I need you in me…”

Your words snap him out of his amazement. “Atta girl.” He replies. You can feel his tip gently rub against your slippery entrance. Your warm juices on his cock feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. You’re like a drug to him. A drug that he can’t get enough of.

He pulls back before you can get used to the feeling of him. He leans over you, reaching into his dresser drawer. When he moves back over you, you see the shiny square wrapper in his hand.

You place your hands over his as he tries to open the condom. “No…”

His head snaps up at you. “No…? No what?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want to do this?”

“No…Rafe, I-I want this. I just…I want to feel you. No…no condom.” You explain.

“Fuck, y/n. Are you sure?” Rafe’s disbelief and shock is very apparent in his tone.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the pill.” You confirm.

“God, how much more perfect can you fuckin’ get?” He chuckles, making you huff out a quick laugh.

Soon his lips are back on yours as he uses his hand to guide his glistening, pink tip back to your puffy cunt. Slowly, he pushes into you, just so that the very tip of his cock is inside of you. He looks up to your face, pending your reaction.

“F-fuck…Rafe.” Your hands move to his hips, pushing him further inside. Rafe gives in, pushing another inch into you. “Mnghh, fuck…Rafe.” Rafe settles there for a moment before giving you another inch or two. Each time he moves, he looks to make sure you’re still enjoying it, giving you a minute to adjust each time. When he finally bottoms out, you feel so…full. The pain is there, but it doesn’t last long, fading into a light discomfort as your soft walls mold to his shape. You involuntarily squeeze around him.

“Shiiiitt, baby…Squeezin’ me so tight.” He pauses to kiss you, his lips soon finding that soft spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. “M’gonna move now, alright?”

“Mhm…please…” You whine. You hook your arms under his, bringing your palms up to grip onto his back. Rafe continues to kiss all over your neck and chest as he slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is left inside. Without warning, he pushes into you a bit quicker this time, with a bit more force than before. But you’re not complaining. You cry his name out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move at a slow, steady pace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “F-fuck…” You yelp, gripping onto him even harder.

“Fuck, baby…your nails, they hurt.” He mumbles amusedly into your ear as he nips at it. Immediately your grip loosens. You feel terrible but can’t manage to muster up an apology since you can’t think clearly with how his cock is repeatedly kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“Faster.” You beg, pressing your forehead into his arm. He listens cautiously, carefully picking up the face. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit an even deeper spot inside of you. When his digits start to circle your clit you almost let out a scream, making him chuckle.

“Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?” He laughs as he fucks you senseless.

“Fuck…Rafey, no, I…I can’t. Can’t take it.” You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes squeeze shut.

“You can and you will.” He speaks emotionlessly, overtaken by pleasure. Rafe’s hand moves from you clit up to your throat again, he applies a bit of pressure. Your hands leave his back and wrap around his wrist. Your eyes stay shut as your face contorts into that of pure bliss. His thumb slides into your mouth and you suck and bite at it, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you. You don’t see how you can ever stop; this feeling is…unlike anything else you’ve felt before. “You got this baby. M’almost there. You can let go, baby. Just let go f’me.”

Sooner than later you feel the newly familiar feeling of pressure building in your lower stomach. When it snaps, your body tenses up, a wave of moans escape your mouth as the band snaps and pleasure washes over you. Rafe continues to fuck you slowly, his movements becoming more sporadic than strategic.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“My pussy, please Rafey…fill me up?” You ask, eyes wide with tears as you look up at him. “Please?”

“Shit, you sure?” Rafe groans, barely able to hold on any longer.

“Y-yes...I’m sure.” Only seconds later you can feel his warm seed spurting out inside of you. Your gummy walls soaking him in as they squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s got.

“Fuckk y/n. Do that again.” As he thrusts into you without any specific rhythm, you obey his words, squeezing tightly around his length again. Rafe lets out a guttural moan, tossing his head back for a moment before looking at you again, watching how well you take him, as if you were made for him. The way he fills you up you is like pieces of a puzzle, just meant for one another. “Shiiitt…you’re so fucking tight. Squeezin’ ‘round your best friends cock so good.”

After you’re both worked through your orgasms, he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of him, feeling a big opening left where he had been. Rafe leans down to press a deep, meaningful kiss to your lips. He pulls back, wiping your hair and sweat from your face with a proud smile.

“God, baby. You did so good, so fucking good. That’s a good girl. My girl, yeah?” He leans down again, pressing a kiss to your neck. Rafe whispers in your ear. “m’so proud.” Before pulling away completely, he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks, your nose, and one final kiss to your forehead.

You turn on your side to face him as he lay on the bed beside you. “Rafe…” Your voice shows your exhaustion, but also your hesitancy.

He turns on his side to face you as well, propping his head up against his hand. “Hm?” He says with a smile. He can’t help it, it’s impossible for him to see you and not smile after what you just did.

You flop back down onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s too hard to say this while looking at his beautiful smile. “That was…”

“Incredible?” He interrupts, his fingers lightly tracing up and down your arm.

“What was that?” You blurt out, scared that if you don’t say it now then you never will.

Rafe’s smile fades quickly, he props himself up on his elbows, staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Woah woah, woah. Hey. What? What d’you mean?”

You give a light shrug, his fingers no longer moving over your skin. You avoid looking at his pretty eyes. “I mean like…what happens now?”

He sighs, laying back down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re my girl now, yeah? I thought that was obvious.”

“Your girl? The Rafe Cameron I know doesn’t do girlfriends.” You say lightly.

“That’s because I never wanted one. I never…needed one, I’ve got you.”

“So…we’re friends?” You ask, attempting and failing at trying to hide your emotions.

“We are, aren’t we?” Rafe responds, not knowing what his words imply or how they’ll make you feel.

“Yeah…yea we’re friends.” You say dryly.

He turns his head to face you. “Hey. Y/N. What’s wrong? Hey…hey, talk to me.”

“Nothing, Rafe. I’m fine.”

“Jesus, no you’re not. C‘mon baby, what is it?”

“Nothing!” You snap. You’re angry about your own reaction, feeling stupid once the words leave your mouth. Grabbing the sheets, you cover yourself up.

“Did I do something? What’d I do?” Asks Rafe, making you feel worse about yourself. It’s not his fault you feel like this. “Is it what we did? Look, I’m sorry if—“

You cut him off, not being able to listen to him blame himself. “I just…I don’t think friends do what we just did.”

“Jesus, y/n. Look…” He trails off, cursing himself. “Do you not wanna be my girl or something? ‘Cause I can—“

“No, Rafe. I just…I don’t get what you mean. Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He says, confused.

“Like…your girlfriend? Dating? Us?”

“Fuck. Yes, baby. My girlfriend.” Rafe says the word as though it’s a pain to say it. “Will you be my girlfriend? Please?” You could tease him about the way he’s practically begging you.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” You joke, not being able to resist. Rafe laughs, glad to hear your usual self.

“Well, I’m kinda hoping that I’m your…boyfriend, now.”

“Hmm…let me think…” You say, tapping your chin as if this is something you need to contemplate. You can see his demeanor sadden from the corner of your eye, causing you to look over at him. “What’s in it for me?” You add, a smirk threatening to appear on your face. You can barely hold back your laughter at this point, but he still looks so sad, like a puppy who can’t have a treat. “Jesus Rafe, I thought you’d never ask.” You don’t even give him enough time to respond before you’re on top of him, his lips immediately seeking yours.

“Yeah? You mean it?” He asks between kisses, almost nervously.

“Of course I do, Rafe. ‘Promise.”

You always know just what to say to him to calm down his mind, he loves that about you. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. God, I fuckin’ love you.” Your eyes widen at his confession, you look down at him. He’s almost just as shocked as you are. He didn’t even know he felt that way. The words just slipped out, but they felt so right. “Fuck, no, I meant—“ Rafe starts, but you cut him off. You kiss him again, passionately. This kiss shows him exactly how you feel, somehow being more intimate than having sex with him was.

“I love you, Rafe. I promise.” You know how he can feel like everybody is against him, so you try to reassure him as much as you can. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel cared for; he just never wanted to fuck things up with you. “Please just…can you promise me that you’ll stop beating up random strangers who talk to me? ‘Cause I don’t care about them, Rafe. I care about you.”

This is all so new, talking to each other in this way. But it’s how you’ve both always felt. “But y/n, he-“ Rafe pauses, reconsidering his words for you. He sighs and then mumbles, “Yeah…I’ll try.” He looks back at you, you with a stern look in your eyes. “I will. I promise.”

You smile, leaning down for a kiss. Quickly, things start to escalate again. Rafe flips you both over so he’s on top. He leans down to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at it as he works his way down, kissing every inch of you.

“Mnmh…fuck…” You moan.

Rafe smiles against your skin. “Yeah, baby? That feels good huh?” You only nod eagerly as a response. Rafe takes hold of his already hard cock, using his fist to pump over himself a few times, letting out a low growl. He rubs his dewy, pink tip over your sticky hole.

You let out a moan, still being sensitive from your previous orgasms. “F-fuck…Rafe, m’too sensitive, s’too much.” You whine.

“Shh…shhhh baby, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’, jus’ wanna show you how proud of my girl I am.” His mouth works it’s way down, landing back between your thighs. Your boyfriend softly bites at your inner thighs, his eyes staying trained on you as your face contorts in pleasure. Eventually he finds your soaking core, lapping up the mix of your juices. You feel his fingers gather some of your arousal, mixed with his cum. Before you know it, those fingers are deep inside your throat. “Taste that, baby? Hm? Taste how fucking good we are?”

You nod, whining when his mouth finds your core again. His tongue flicks at your most sensitive bud, making you jump. Although Rafe only holds onto harder the more you try to run. “Baby, it’s okay. Let me take care of you; clean you up.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re yet again, a shaking, crying mess underneath him. When his mouth works it’s way back to yours, you can taste both of you on his tongue. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. I fucking love you.”

You smile a weak, tired smile at him. He rolls off of you, flipping you both on your side so he can spoon you. He kisses your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing mindless shapes into your skin. “I love you too.” You respond as you drift off to sleep in your boyfriend's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave more asks, I will most likely get to them at some point. Thank you!

349 notes · View notes

dreamscapeee222 · 6 hours ago

Note

can i request arcane characters reacting to readers huge scar on the side of her waist? like shes always wearing full length shirts or hoodies but one day she was in a rush and had to wear a slightly cropped shirt that leads to them asking to see the whole thing? very fluffy of course

They react to your huge scar

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi first noticed the scar when you stretched up to grab something, your shirt riding up slightly. She froze mid-sentence, her sharp eyes catching the faint outline before you quickly tugged your shirt down.

“Hey, wait—what was that?” she asked, her tone light but filled with curiosity.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, brushing it off.

But Vi wasn’t letting it go. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Her sincerity caught you off guard. You hesitated before lifting your shirt just enough to show her. Her expression softened as she leaned closer, her brows furrowing.

“That must’ve been tough,” she said quietly, her fingers hovering near the scar but not touching without permission. “But you’re one strong person, you know that?”

Her smile returned, warm and full of pride. “I’ll make sure you never have to go through something like that again.”

Jinx

Jinx’s attention to detail was uncanny, so when she noticed the scar peeking out from beneath your cropped shirt, her head tilted curiously.

“Whoa, what’s that?” she blurted, pointing with zero hesitation.

You flinched at her reaction, pulling your shirt down quickly. “It’s nothing, Jinx.”

But Jinx wasn’t letting it go. “Nothing? That looks like a story! Did you wrestle a beast or something? Please tell me you did!”

You sighed, realizing she wouldn’t drop it until you explained. Lifting your shirt slightly, you revealed the jagged mark. Jinx’s eyes widened, but instead of her usual chaotic energy, her tone shifted to something softer.

“That’s… really something,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the air near it like she was inspecting an important piece of art. “You okay?”

Her blue eyes locked with yours, and for once, there was nothing but care in her expression. “If someone hurt you, they’d better hope they never cross paths with me.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn noticed the scar when the two of you were sparring. You moved, and your shirt rode up just enough for her to catch a glimpse. She didn’t say anything immediately, but her sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing.

After practice, she approached you, her tone gentle but direct. “I noticed something earlier. On your side. Are you alright?”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “It’s old,” you finally said, trying to wave it off.

But Caitlyn’s concern didn’t waver. “Old or not, it must have been significant. Can I… see it?”

Her request was so respectful, her concern so genuine, that you found yourself lifting your shirt to show her. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied the scar, her hand hovering near but never touching.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” she said softly. “But you’re here, and that’s what matters most to me.”

Her words carried so much warmth that you felt a sense of peace settle in your chest.

Ekko

Ekko spotted the scar during a quiet afternoon at the Firelight hideout. You stretched, your shirt riding up just enough to reveal a flash of it. His brows furrowed, concern flickering across his face.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

You froze, instinctively pulling your shirt down. “It’s nothing, Ekko.”

But Ekko wasn’t buying it. “That didn’t look like nothing,” he said gently. “You can talk to me, you know.”

After a moment, you sighed and lifted your shirt just enough to show him. His eyes widened, and he leaned closer, his gaze softening.

“That must’ve been painful,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “But it didn’t stop you. You’re still here, still incredible.”

His gentle smile told you he wasn’t judging—he was proud of your strength. “You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

Jayce

Jayce was mid-conversation with you when he noticed the scar peeking out from your shirt. He stopped talking abruptly, his expression shifting to one of concern.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asked gently, pointing toward your side.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, pulling your shirt down.

Jayce frowned but didn’t press. Instead, he gave you a kind smile. “If you’re comfortable talking about it, I’m here.”

His patience made you feel safe enough to show him. You lifted your shirt slightly, revealing the scar. Jayce’s expression tightened, not in anger but in protective worry.

“Whoever or whatever caused this…” he started, his voice soft but firm, “I hope you know how strong you are for coming through it.”

When he noticed your discomfort, he smiled warmly. “You’re amazing, scar and all. Don’t ever forget that.”

Viktor

Viktor noticed the scar during one of your late-night conversations in the lab. You reached for something on a high shelf, and your shirt lifted just enough for him to see it.

His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, concern flickering across his face. “(Y/N),” he said softly, “may I ask what happened there?”

You paused, unsure how to answer. “It’s… an old scar. It’s fine.”

Viktor didn’t press, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “May I see it?” he asked, his tone kind.

When you showed him, lifting your shirt just enough to reveal the scar, he studied it silently for a moment. Then he looked back at you, his expression full of empathy.

“I’m sorry you went through something like that,” he said softly. “But it’s clear how strong you are. That’s something to be proud of.”

Mel

Mel noticed the scar when you walked into the room wearing a cropped shirt for the first time. Her gaze flicked to your side briefly, but she didn’t comment immediately, waiting until the two of you were alone.

“(Y/N),” she began, her voice soft but steady, “I couldn’t help but notice… your side. Are you alright?”

You hesitated, her concern catching you off guard. “It’s just an old scar,” you said, trying to dismiss it.

But Mel wasn’t one to let things slide. “Old or not, it’s part of your story. And I’d like to understand, if you’re comfortable sharing.”

Her calm, empathetic tone made it easier to lift your shirt and show her. She studied it with quiet intensity, her fingers brushing close but never touching without permission.

“You’ve been through so much,” she said softly, her voice filled with admiration. “But you’re still here, and you’re still incredible. That’s something no scar can ever take away.”

See pinned.

225 notes · View notes

moonchild9350 · 3 days ago

Text

Back to you

Summary: in a world where everyone has a soulmate, you find yours in the least expected way.

Pairing: Felix x fab!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, sci fi au, slice of life au

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: time jumps, kissing lol, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, making love, dirty talk?, kinda an open ending

Notes: stuck in my sci fi era lol i had this idea for a while and decided to finish it recently. let me know what you think!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keep me motivated.

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©️moonchild9350 (2024)

“We’re done!”

Two words, two little words. Who would have thought those two words would break Felix’s heart. He thought Xania was the one, after all she was supposed to be his soulmate.

Felix turned to walk down Xania’s stairs, taking each step slowly, one foot in front of the other. He scratched his blonde hair, messing up the little hairs that were pulled back into a ponytail. He had a frown on his face, as he contemplated where he went wrong.

Now, without Xania, he was back to square one. He needed to remedy this and fast before others found out. The world frowns upon a twenty five year old bachelor, especially in a world where people have a soulmate assigned to them since birth.

It’s the year 3050, and humanity has improved for the better, natural selection weeding out the weak. Aging is slower due to scientific advancement, where now every year the earth rotates around the sun, humans do not age as they did a century ago. Instead every five years, a human ages one year. In this case, Felix has been twenty-five for five years now. Next year on his birthday, he will finally be twenty six…and still without finding his soulmate.

Felix continues to walk down the street, muttering under his breath, conflicted on what to do next. He would have to go back to the company Soulmate and Co. and file a complaint against the lady who told him Xania was his soulmate. Deciding that this is what he’s going to do, he turns around and hails a hover car, giving the address of the building he needs.

The ride doesn’t take long as the car glides through the sky, bypassing other hover cars and buildings. Once there, he slips a coin into the pouch next to his seat and exits the car. He takes a moment to view the building in front of him, tilting his head back so he can take in the whole thing.

It seems to reach all the way to the sky, the glass reflecting the bright sun that is shining today.

He marches up the steps and through the double doors, walking past the seating area, which is filled with various other clients, some smiling while others are distraught, their heads in their hands. He continues to walk through the foyer, making his way to the front desk.

“The matchmakers please,” Felix tells the person behind the desk.

She nods at his request and signals for a guide to take him to his destination. He follows the lady, to an elevator with glass doors at the end of the hall. She beckons him to enter the glass container and presses a button labeled ‘level 50’ before stepping back with a smile.

The elevator ascends gracefully, gliding on the gears without a sound, the many floors passing by with a blur. A minute passes and then two until he finally reaches the floor he needs. The elevator doors open with a hiss and Felix exits, stepping outside of the box.

He looks left and right, before noticing a directory plastered on the wall straight ahead. He doesn’t give this a second glance, having been here before, but instead makes his way down the hall until he reaches a door with a placard on it identifying “Mavis, Matchmaker”

Felix pushes open the door and marches in, determination in his step. Mavis’s secretary looks up and smiles, waiting for him to approach the desk.

“How can I help you?” She asks pleasantly, ignoring the annoyed face Felix makes at her.

“I need to speak with Mavis,” Felix pauses for a moment before he decides to add, “now.”

The secretary eyes him, most likely deciding if he would be a threat. She must have ultimately decided he was ok because she smiled once more before pressing a button and announcing that he was here.

Felix only had to wait a brief moment when the door to the left opened, revealing a beautiful girl in the doorway. She had the signature insignia, signaling that she was a matchmaker plastered on her chest for all to see.

“Mr. Lee,” she said shocked, her eyes widened at the sight of him.

“Mavis, I need to speak with you.”

Mavis stepped out of the way, beckoning him into her office. Felix quickly walked over, sitting in one of the many chairs scattered throughout the small office.

“What can I do for you? If I remember correctly, you had found your soulmate? Why are you here?”

Felix looked at mavis incredulously. “Why am I here? Because xania broke up with me! She’s not my soulmate, which means you messed up!”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was furious, and how can he not be? Because of the matchmakers mistake, he’d be the laughing stock of his family, having to explain that he was told the wrong person was his soulmate.

Mavis looked at him, her eyes widened at the accusation. “Surely there was a mistake. Xania is your soulmate…the roster confirmed it,” she hurriedly said as she pulled up a database with her fingers.

She scanned the various documents, her hand moving this way and that as she looked up his profile. finding the page she needed, she stared at it for a moment, her eyes moving across the screen.

As she came to a certain area, her eyes widened and her mouth opened as she took a deep breath. Recovering quickly, she straightened up and looked at Felix.

“It seems there indeed was a mistake. I am so sorry Mr. Lee. Xania was not your soulmate.”

Felix stared at Mavis, fighting the urge to say something he would regret. Instead he said, “thank you, yes there has been a mistake. And now I need you to tell me who is my soulmate.”

Mavis hesitated, not sure what to say. “Well…I can but it’s complicated. It seems like your true soulmate is already bound to someone else…”

Bound to someone else? Shit. What is he to do now? His soulmate is galavanting with another person.

“So what do I do now?” Felix asked dejectedly, his head hanging down.

Mavis thought for a moment, considering the options. Typically there’s no way to go back and change the pathway of things, but she had pity on Felix. After all it was her mistake.

“There is a way…but mind you it’s very dangerous.”

Felix perked up, his ears intent on listening to what Mavis had to say. He’d do anything and he means anything to be with his proper soulmate.

“You can go back in time and find your soulmate, meet them, talk to them, convince them they’re your soulmate. Rewrite the story. You’ll have to time travel, but we can get you there. Five spins around the sun should do it.”

Time travel? Felix didn’t even know such a thing existed, but then again, he shouldn’t be shocked.

“Ok, I’ll do it,” Felix said with determination.

Mavis nodded, pleased with Felix’s answer. She pressed a button on her desk, before speaking softly, “please send a device member to my office.”

She released the button and smiled as she placed her hands on her desk. Felix shifted awkwardly in his seat, unsure of where to look or what to say as Mavis was silent. He decided to look at the files on her shelf, his eyes roaming over script he couldn’t understand.

He looked with interest until the door opened suddenly, causing him to jump slightly in his seat.

“Ah, come in please. Have a seat. “ Mavis said as a shy looking girl in blue scrubs walked in.

She looked curiously at Felix, taking him in. She carefully sat in the chair next to him and looked at Mavis, waiting for instruction.

“Melody, this here is Mr. Lee. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, he needs to go back to the past, specifically five years ago. Can you escort him to the vault and assist him please?”

Melody nodded, a soft smile spreading on her face. “Most certainly.”

Mavis smiled, “great! Well off you both go! Good luck Mr. Lee!”

She swiveled away, her back to Felix and melody. Felix got up as his escort got up and followed her out of the office. They walked through narrow hallways, went down flights of stairs, the walk seeming to go on forever until stopping at a large metal door.

Felix watched as she placed her palm on a scanner, the laser reading her dna ensuring her identity matched who she said she was. A soft beep rang in the otherwise empty corridor, the door springing open slightly.

Melody stepped in between the crack, Felix following right behind her. The door shut with a finite click, locking them within the room.

As Felix faced forward, the lights within the room turned on, illuminating the area with soft light. He scanned the room nothing seeming of interest until his eyes landed on the machine in the center of the room.

It had glass walls, just like everything in the building, a small panel just to the left of the door. Melody walked over to a switch on the wall and lifted it, a soft humming sound present within the room as things powered up.

She went to the panel and started pressing button after button, most likely setting the time frame for which he has to go back. After a while, she turned to face him.

“Mr. Lee, please step within the box.”

Felix cautiosouly walked to the glass box and stepped inside. Despite the walls being made of glass, he couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic, the walls closing in on him.

He jumped at the sound of static, melody’s voice echoing in the small chamber.

“I will transport you back to five years ago. You will still be twenty five. Complete your mission but know you only have one year to complete your task, whether you are successful or not. Once you are done, you’ll know what to do in order to get back.”

Felix was nervous, his heart rapidly beating so hard within his chest, he felt as if it would jump out any moment. He wiped the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead as he stared at Melody through the glass wall.

She gave a thumbs up and smiled before pressing a green button. The humming noise slowly intensified, until there was a buzzing sound echoing in his ear.

The air in front of him started to ripple, the atoms slowly manipulating themselves to transport him to a different time and place.

As his surroundings started to fade and become unrecognizable, he felt a tingle on his skin, almost as if he was being touched with a million needles. The feeling intensified until his belly started to churn, nausea taking over as the air became harder to breathe.

There was a flash of white light and just when he thought he would pass out from the sensation within the room, there was quiet and stillness…but only for a moment.

The air expanded, his breath caught off until…. -- -- It was a clear night, the sky black, the stars twinkling and the moon bright. There was barely any wind blowing, but the trees swayed nonetheless, providing a refreshing breeze on this summer night.

You were laying on a blanket in your backyard, star gazing, enjoying your night off. The night was silent, that is until you heard a low buzz, traveling from one ear to the other.

You dismissed the sound until the buzz got louder, almost deafening. Sitting upright, you looked around, searching for the source of the annoying sound.

You were about to give up after not seeing anything when the space in front of you shifted, a small hole opening up in the night air.

You stared horrified, unable to move as the hole got bigger, and a bright light appeared within the space.

You let out a scream as a man fell from the hole, his arms outstretched as he tumbled through, landing directly on top of you, causing you to fall backwards.

You let out a huff as your head lightly bounced on the soft grass, your eyes wide as you stared at the man who came from nowhere.

He laid there dazed, his eyes trying to focus as he attempted to breathe. You took him in, eyeing his features of dazzling brown eyes that seemed to shine even at night, millions of freckles littering his face like the stars of the night sky, and small, plush heart shaped lips.

This man was beautiful, that you couldn’t deny. An angel for sure sent from heaven. However, that thought dashed from your head as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” The man said as he scrambled to get off of you, grunting as he fell over in the process.

“Ahh!” You exclaimed, scooting over to him to help him up. “Are you alright?”

He looked at you, his eyes taking you in before he blushed and looked down.

“I’m ok,” he replied softly. “I’m sorry, I um…I think…actually, I have no clue what happened…or if I’m even in the correct place.”

You chuckled as the man stuttered through his explanation, as he clearly had no clue what was going on.

“How about we start with your name?” You suggested, sitting next to him.

“Name. Right. Yeah. Ummm…I’m Felix,” he said as continued to stare at the ground.

“Well, Felix, I’m y/n.”

'Y/n,’ Felix thought, ‘such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.’ When you said your name, he felt his heart flutter and a warm sensation spread through him, which was contrary to how he felt not even five minutes ago.

He was in the right place. He’s not sure how he knew, he just felt that it felt right deep within.

Felix returned his gaze to you, taking in your calm demeanor, despite just seeing him come out of a black hole essentially. His eyes roamed your face, your eyes trained on him in concern, your lips slightly parted.

He felt his heart race as he continued to stare at you remembering how you felt underneath him, so soft and perfect.

Felix shook his head, coming back to the time at hand. He looked around the yard, taking in the little oasis you had created. There were fairy lights illuminating the space, the lights twinkling in the night air in such a way it almost seemed magical.

In the corner was a hot tub, the steam rising in the air beckoning whoever was near to relax within its waters. He looked down at the ground in which both of you were sitting, taking in the blanket and pillows you had set up.

“Looks like I interrupted you…I’m sorry,” Felix said softly.

“It’s ok,” you said with a smile. You let a moment pass before opening your mouth once more, curiosity getting the best of you.

“So um…time travel?” You said gesturing to the air in which Felix fell from.

You wondered where he came from and most importantly why, especially why he landed within your yard.

“Uh yeah, I’m from the future on a mission,” Felix replied, as his hand ran through his blond locks.

“Ahh the future. What’s your mission?”

Felix hesitated unsure if he should tell you the reason why’s he here. He decided against it, wanting to get a feel first before diving in. He has a year after all, why rush it.

“I can’t tell you that unfortunately,” Felix said apologetically.

You hummed and brushed his statement away, leaving it at that. You knew he would tell you when he’s ready, if at all.

“Well, it’s late and you probably have no where to stay, so you can crash here while you work on your mission if you’d like,” you said as you got up and dusted the dirt from your shorts.

Felix stared at you in shock, surprised you would offer your home to someone you didn’t know so readily.

“Oh..ok, yeah…sure thanks!”

Felix got up as well, reaching down to help you fold the blanket you were sitting on. He followed you to your door, curiosity plastered on his face as you opened the door and stepped into your home.

He was taken aback, the space feeling so…homey. It was decked out in lights, their glow illuminating the space with soft light, making it more intimate. The space radiated a floral scent, one that was intense but surprisingly was not overwhelming in the small space.

Your home was just so…you.

The thought made Felix chuckle in delight.

“Well it’s not much, but this is my home,” you said, gesturing to the small space.

“I like it, it’s very comfortable,” Felix said in earnest.

You smiled and nodded, happy that he liked your little space. You bustled around, making your way to the kitchen.

“Tea?” You asked as your hands started dancing through the air, shifting through the options you had in your inventory.

“Sure,” Felix said watching as you selected an option, the kettle appearing from thin air onto the stove.

You turned the heat on, the flames licking the bottom of the kettle immediately. Felix watched silently as you bustled around the kitchen, humming a little song as you prepared snacks.

The kettle whistled, the shrill sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. You grabbed two mugs and poured the tea before carefully carrying them to the couch. You gave Felix his, and then brought the snacks over.

Sitting down, you looked at the man next to you. He seemed nervous, his fingers drumming on the cup. Your eyes roamed his body, taking in his little frame, his baby face. He really was cute you’d have to say.

Felix looked up at you suddenly, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled reassuringly, hoping he’d understand he can be himself.

It didnt take long for Felix to open up, his bubbly personality shining through. You listened to him talk about his life in the future, his job where he helps others figure out what they want to do with their lives.

He talks about his friends, how close they are and how they’ve saved him more times than he can count. He even mentioned how he thought he found his soulmate, but apparently it was a mistake, one that is rarely made.

You eyed him, noticing that something was off when he mentioned his soulmate. You couldn’t place a finger to it but decided to leave it, knowing he’ll tell you the details when he’s ready.

The night passed in conversation, you feeling at home with Felix which was odd since you’ve just met him. You looked at the clock and noticed how late it was.

“Shit,” you muttered, “I need to get to bed. I work tomorrow.”

Felix nodded and helped you clean up. He knew the night would have to end eventually but he’s sad it did so soon.

“You can have the couch,” you said as you started making a makeshift bed.

Felix stood in the corner watching as you finished his bed and then went to your closet grabbing a shirt. He took it from your hands gratefully.

“Sorry, it’s the biggest I have,” you said sheepishly.

“It’s ok, thanks.”

You nodded, happy he didn’t mind the clothes. “Well I’m going to grab a shower, make yourself at home.”

Felix watched as you grabbed some clothes and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door softly. He heard the shower start, the sound of water hitting the wall.

He sat down on the couch, his eyes roaming around the room. He can’t wait to shower you with love, take care of you, after all you’re his soulmate whether you’ve realized it or not.

-- --

The next morning, you awakened to the smell of bacon, the scent permeating your home. Your belly growled, signaling you to feed it which made you chuckle.

You stretched and stood up before padding to the kitchen. The sight of Felix at the stove cooking made your heart swell, a smile gracing your face. You stood in the corner and watched him, watching as he tried to finish the meal.

He was struggling a little bit but trying nonetheless, little curses falling from his mouth. Turning around he noticed you, causing him to drop the spoon he was holding.

You chuckled at his clumsiness, bending down to pick up the utensil.

Felix was startled at the sight of you, his cheeks instantly reddening. There you stood in your little sleep shirt and shorts, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could see your tits, your nipples hardened and poking through the silk. His eyes wandered down to your ass, so round and plush within the little shorts.

He looked away in embarrassment as you stood up, spoon in hand. He took it from your hand and went back to finishing up breakfast.

You sat down and waited, your chin in your hand. This was nice, a man cooking for you. A cute one at that. Felix walked over with your plate in hand, setting it down in front of you.

“Bon appetite!” He said, bowing slightly.

You giggled and picked up your fork to dig in. The first bite was…interesting so to say, the taste strong mixed with…

“Umm, Felix? Did you use salt in this?”

Felix looked up at you, his eyes wide. “Yeah, I did. Is it too much?”

You shook your head yes, shyly looking down.

Felix put down his fork and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’ll get better I promise. I just wanted to fix something for you after you took me in.”

Now you felt bad, your heart falling at the sight of the little pout that formed on his face. He did work hard to prepare this for you, waking up way before you to do so.

“It’s ok, it’s still good. Let’s dig in ok?”

Felix smiled at your attempt to reconcile, picking up his fork once more. You both ate, enjoying each others company.

It’s been awhile since you’ve had anyone else in the house with you, since you opted to live alone. So it was weird to share such an intimate meal with someone else and a stranger at that.

After eating, you sat back, content that your belly was full.

“Thanks for breakfast Felix. I have to get ready for work now. You can make yourself at home though.”

Felix smiled, happy you enjoyed his meal. He watched as you got up and padded away to your closet, your hips swaying with each step.

He got up and started clearing away the dishes, falling into the routine of cleaning. He had everything planned out, and would start his mission once you left for work.

Felix startled as you came up behind him, now fully dressed with your work uniform, your hair nicely done and your makeup complete to perfection

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m leaving now. If you need anything while I’m gone just call. Here I’ll send you my phone number.”

Felix watched as you scrolled through your book, punching in your number and swiping your finger away sending it to his contact list. He pulled it up, staring at the digital screen in front of him. He saved your number, smiling at the name you gave yourself.

He walked to the door with you, standing aways back as you slipped into your shoes. He wished you a good day at work, watching as you softly shut the door behind you.

Felix stood there for a moment more before turning to go back into your home, ready to set his plan in action.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, Felix doted on you. He made your meals, helped around the house, he did anything you wanted him to do.

You had game nights, movie nights, crafting nights. Any type of activity he could do while spending time with you, he did it.

Felix loved spending time with you too. He learned your habits, how you immediately went to the snack cabinet after work. How you liked your baths, the bubbles not too high, the water hot, and with a glass of wine.

He learned that you didn’t like scary movies, remembering how you locked yourself in the bathroom after a scene, refusing to come out until he coaxed you out with the promise of cuddles.

That was on the agenda tonight, a movie and cuddles. You snuggled in within Felix’s arms, your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around your body protectively.

You were growing to love these quiet moments, just the two of you in a room illuminated with fairy lights. There was a storm brewing outside, the sound of the wind rattling the windowpane. Fall has rolled in into your little town, therefore, it has rained almost everyday, blanketing the world with the little drops falling from the sky.

However, you didn’t mind, being safe and warm within his arms. You nuzzled in, your head rubbing on his chest, causing Felix to look down at you.

“That tickles,” Felix chuckled, squeezing your arm.

“Mm sorry,” you sighed as you repeated your action.

Felix chuckled and returned his attention to the screen. You listened to his heart beating loudly beneath your ear, the rhythm increasing with each passing second.

You smiled at the fact, your eyes traveling back to the movie Felix had picked out to watch. You both went back to watching the movie, the end nearing.

Once the closing scene played, Felix started to shift, causing your head to move. You let out a whine, disgruntled at the fact your pillow was moving.

You slowly got up, your hair disheveled. Felix began laughing, his voice filling your small space as he clutched his stomach. You pouted and swatted at him, crossing your arms in defiance.

Felix wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around your body tightly. He squeezed and rocked you back and forth, ignoring your giggles and protests to let you go.

You felt your heart flutter, the cute but intimate moment making your cheeks flush with a hint of red.

Felix continued to rock you, his breath hot in your ear as he laughed. You know how to make him stop. With renewed vigor, you grabbed his shoulder and bit down lightly, your teeth sinking into his soft skin.

Felix yelped and scooted back, his eyes wide as he looked between you and his shoulder.

“You bit me!” He accused, as he chuckled.

You shrugged and giggled, getting up from the couch. You were tired and ready to go to bed. Felix watched as you went through your bedtime routine, his eyes following you with every step you took, forgetting about the slight sting on his shoulder.

Occasionally, you’d stop and strike a funny pose, giggling as Felix laughed at your antics. Eventually Felix got up and started getting his bed ready, as you finished up in the bathroom.

You settled into bed and watched as Felix finished his routine. You chuckled as Felix rushed to his bed, complaining that he was cold. He settled in quickly before sitting up and looking your way.

“Night y/n!”

“Night Felix,” you said blowing him a kiss.

You let out a giggle as Felix quickly laid down and covered himself with his blanket as he let out a little squeak. You turned out the light and settled in, closing your eyes to sleep.

The rain was pelting the windows, the sound calming in the dark. You snuggled in, preparing to sleep when a loud crack of thunder rang out, causing the house to vibrate.

Did you hear a scream? Your eyes snapped open as you strained your ears, listening for the sound again.

Time passed and the rain continued to fall. You were about to close your eyes once more when you heard a soft whisper within the room.

“Y/n?” Felix whispered, listening for your response.

When you didn’t say anything, he repeated his question, calling out to you softly yet a little more loud.

“Yes?” You responded, sitting up within your blankets.

“Can I sleep with you? I’m um…I don’t really like thunderstorms…”

You could hear the panic in his voice, his voice cracking as he said the last word.

“Of course, come here Lix,” you softly said, pulling back your covers for him to join you.

You felt the bed dip and Felix shuffle beneath the covers, scooting as close as he could to you. You wrapped your arms around him, cradling his head to you as if to comfort him.

Felix was shaking in your arms, his face tucked into your chest. He was embarrassed. How could he be your soulmate, the person who’s supposed to love and protect you, if he’s scared of a measly thunderstorm?

He closed his eyes and breathed you in, your scent calming him despite the storm outside. Eventually he lifted his head up and looked you in the eyes.

You stared back at him, holding his gaze as you held him close.

“Thank you,” Felix whispered, his lip turning upwards as if to smile.

“Of course,” you whispered back, as you slowly stroked his back.

You both laid there, listening to the rain and gazing into each others eyes. You were glad it was dark, that way Felix couldn’t see the crimson that littered your cheeks.

The air was charged with want, the need to be close to each other palpable. Felix shuffled closer until his lips were inches away from yours.

You could feel his nose on yours, his ragged breath on your lips as he held onto you. Your heart was beating rapidly, as nerves took over, your palms sweaty as you gripped Felix’s shirt.

“Y/n,” Felix whispered before closing the gap between you, his soft lips pressing gently to yours.

He held them there for a moment more before breaking away, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

“Felix,” you whispered as you connected your lips again, wanting to feel his lips on yours again.

the rain pelted the windows, the thunder rang out, and the lighting illuminates the two of you, tucked away within your blankets, bodies pressed against each other as you lazily pressed your lips together.

The moment was soft, gentle, intimate, as if this moment was meant to be.

And in Felix’s mind, it was, without a doubt fate.

After the eventful night embraced in each others arms, kissing the night away, your relationship turned for the better.

Felix was ecstatic as he felt closer to his goal than ever. He was holding your hand, swinging it back and forth as you both walked home from a day of shopping.

He took the opportunity to spoil you, buying you whatever you wanted. He found himself smiling whenever you would thank him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I spy something blue!” You exclaimed, squeezing his hand in yours.

Felix’s eyes roamed the street, looking for whatever had caught your eye. Spotting a blue car, his grinned sure he got it this time.

“That blue car there,” he said as he pointed at the vessel.

“Ugh how are you so good at this?” You whined, pouting at the fact that he got another guess right.

Felix shrugged and chuckled. He pulled you along in the direction of your home, wanting to get back as soon as possible.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your home. Felix pressed his finger against the scanner on the door, the box emitting a tune signaling it accepted his fingerprint. You both tumbled into your home, laughing at the joke you had just made.

Felix dropped the bags he was holding and pulled you in for a kiss, swallowing your shriek of surprise. You relaxed instantly in his embrace, matching his pace as he moved his lips with yours.

He pulled away for a moment before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips again and again until you were giggling, your face warm, and heart fluttering at his affection.

“Such a sweet sound,” Felix cooed as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Come on, let’s get the snacks ready! I’m ready to have a nice soak!”

You both decided to have a relaxing night in your hot tub, the weather not too cold or hot. You began cutting up various fruits and veggies, as Felix gathered some sweets.

“Make sure to get my favorite cookies!” You reminded him as he piled the plate high with a bunch of his homemade brownies.

“Right,” Felix said as he snapped his fingers, hurriedly searching through the inventory for your favorite chocolate cookies.

You chuckled and began plating the food you just cut up. Satisfied with your work, you walked to your closet, reaching in to pull out your swim suit.

You let out a shriek as Felix wrapped his arms around you and peppered wet kisses on your neck, mumbling at how beautiful you were.

You giggled as you attempted to get away, but to no avail as his hold on you was iron tight.

Felix spun you around before crashing his lips to yours, kissing you passionately as he moaned. You let out a whimper as he nipped at your lip, your core dripping with arousal as you clutched onto his shirt.

But, what were you doing? You both really shouldn’t be doing…whatever this is.

You pulled away suddenly, ignoring the look of shock on Felix’s face. You grabbed your swimsuit and made your way to the bathroom, letting Felix know you’d meet him outside.

Felix stood rooted in place confused, wondering what he did wrong. He always kisses you like this, shows you this type of affection ever since that night of the storm.

Typically you didn’t mind, fully embracing his kisses, cuddles, and teasing. What made you pull back like that?

Felix slowly turned around and began to change, slipping on his swim trunks and tossing his shirt to the side. He went outside and made his way to the hot tub, his mind preoccupied with what just happened.

He lowered himself in the warm water, sighing as he felt his muscles loosen. Shortly after he got in, you came out, slowly making your way to the hot tub.

Felix tried not to ogle at you, at your curves that were accentuated in the swim suit that barely covered anything. He felt his self blush and his cock twitch.

He needed to calm down and not ruin this night. He took a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes, opening them a few moments later feeling renewed.

You placed the snacks down before getting in and sitting next to Felix.

You both sat there in silence, looking anywhere but at each other. Felix traced the bubbles that popped up in the water, his fingers drifting closer to you.

The tension was thick, palpable in the night air. You tried to focus on the bubbles, the way the warm water enveloped your body, but all you could think of was Felix.

Felix with his bubbly self. Felix and how he takes care of you, cooking, cleaning, treating you as if you are the only woman in the world. Felix with his blonde hair that you love to run your fingers through. Felix with the smile that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, your stomach doing flips as he looks at you.

Felix. Felix. Felix. That’s all your life has become since you’ve met him. Normally you wouldn’t care but you realized you were developing feelings for him, which was playing with fire.

You had a soulmate out there and so did Felix and here you both were playing house. You felt the tears form, threatening to spill over any moment as you continued to think of him.

You couldn’t do this. Excusing yourself, you got out of the water and walked back to the house. Felix stared after you, his lower lip trembling.

He’s messed up, big time. You can’t even look at him. He stayed a little longer, his mind racing over the last few months and how things were.

He remembers your sweet smile as he cooks yet another amazing meal for you. He remembers your giggles as he spun you around the room, dancing to the slow song on the radio. He remembers your sweet face as he rained kisses down your face and neck, the sweet sounds you’d make as he nipped at your skin.

Things were perfect and he blew it. Wiping the stray tears that had fallen, he gets up and gathers the untouched plates and carries them to the house.

You left the lights on for him, but you yourself were asleep, buried underneath your layers of blankets. He tidied up as quietly as he could and then changed.

He figured you would want your space tonight, so he made his bed on the couch, somewhere he hasn’t slept in ages. As he lays down and looks at the ceiling, his heart breaks once more, this time because of his own stupidity.

He has to fix this, make things right. And he needs to do it soon.

Things between you two did not improve. It was the middle of spring with the flowers blooming and most days the rain fell from the sky blanketing the world with a chill that went to the bone.

Felix still resided with you, still made your meals, made sure you had everything you needed. He gave you your space, too scared to approach you and here you tell him to leave for good.

You worked long hours, opting to stay at the office then be with Felix in your small house. You figured if he was out of sight, he couldn’t plague you with his puppy dog eyes and sweet pouts as he doted on you.

However, that came to an end when Felix pleaded for you to come back at a decent hour and let him cook for you. You wanted to say no, but then he looked at you with wide eyes, his pink lips in a pout.

As you stared at him, you caved agreeing to his dinner. You tried not to break the facade as he grinned, his eyes sparkling at your acceptance.

You left for work as usual, your mind preoccupied with the little night he had planned for you two. You were nervous, not having spent a night alone with him since…well since that one fated fall night.

You willed the day to go slowly, but of course that was not the case, the end of your shift approaching rather quickly.

To make matters worse, your boss let you off early, thinking they were doing you a service to get your weekend started early.

Grabbing your bags, you made your way home, opting to walk instead of riding in a hover car. Approaching your door, you placed your finger on the scanner, the pad turning green.

You stepped in your apartment, taking in the scent of something delicious being cooked in the kitchen. You kicked off your shoes and padded into the kitchen, watching as Felix scampered around the space, adding finishing touches to the meal.

It took him a while to notice you but once he did he yelped, startled at your presence.

“Y/n!” Felix said as he rushed to your side.

“Welcome home!” He said as he grasped your hand, ushering you to the kitchen. “Sit, sit.”

You sat down and waited as he dished up dinner. You had to admit everything smelled and looked amazing. Felix dished his plate and the sat down.

“Well let’s dig in!” Felix exclaimed as he picked up his fork.

You forked some of the pasta into your mouth, your eyes rolling back at the flavors as they burst on your tongue. You recovered quickly as you continued to shovel food into your mouth. How could you be mad at this man when he cooks like this?

Felix watched from the corner of his eyes, pleased that you enjoyed his meal. He needed tonight to go well. He would reveal it all to you, his purpose, his reason.

Halfway through the meal, he decided to begin, thinking it was as good a time as ever.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

You put your fork down and looked at Felix. Here we go, you thought.

“I want to explain to you why I’m here.” Felix took a deep breath before continuing on. “I’m from the future and if you remembered, my soulmate was actually not mines but someone else’s. The matchmakers proposed I go back in time to find my true soulmate, to start over almost. To find…you.”

Silence rang out through the space, neither of you saying a word.

Felix was your soulmate? Felix is your…

Maybe that’s why it just always felt good, felt right with him. Why you always trusted him.

Felix is your soulmate.

You felt your heart beat, your cheeks flush, as you fumbled with your fingers. You didn’t dare look at Felix, ashamed at how you’ve treated him over the last few months.

Shit. What a mess this is.

“Y/n?” Felix inquired cautiously.

“Sorry. I was just processing everything.”

You truly were, your brain trying to wrap around the fact that you found your soulmate.

“I’m sorry. I just felt like you should know. The timing felt right.”

You nodded agreeing. You got up and started clearing the dishes, your mind reeling with his words. Felix helped you, working silently along you.

After you set the dishes down, you turned and almost bumped into him. You muttered an apology and cautiously looked him in the eye.

Felix stared back at you, his lips parted. You watched as a strand of his hair fell in his face. His beautiful, perfect face. You stood still as he came closer, until he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You both stood there in your kitchen, gazing into each other’s eyes, taking in every detail, of the need and lust hidden behind the orbs.

You held your breath as Felix leaned forward to connect his lips to yours, the feeling so familiar, as if he was welcoming you home.

Your lips moved together softly, gently, neither one of you in a rush. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing the hairs there as he deepened the kiss.

Felix moaned as his tongue met yours, the two appendages tangling together in a passionate dance. He needed more of you. He trailed his hands down your waist, your thighs, tapping the flesh to signal you to jump.

You caught on and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. Felix walked you to your bed, his lips on yours whenever he got the chance.

Right as he got to your bedroom, he tripped over his feet, dropping you in the process. You landed on your back, shocked as Felix tumbled onto the floor.

“Oh my god! Are you ok?” You asked, scrambling to peer over the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine,” Felix responded, his face red in embarrassment.

You chuckled, not believing that just happened. Felix looked at you in shock, his embarrassment increasing so much so his ears turned red.

“Oh come here,” you giggled pulling him on top of you.

You crashed your lips on his, smiling as he immediately reciprocated. You lost yourself in his kisses as his hands wandered your body, trailing his fingertips along your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

Felix moaned as he cupped your breasts, massaging the flesh gently. He could feel his cock swell, straining against the fabric of his boxers. He ground his hips into yours, his bulge nudging your clothed core.

You whimpered at the feel of him, canting your hips up into his, silently begging for more. Felix leaned back and shucked his shirt and sweats off and made his way to you, helping you rid yourself of your clothes.

You laid bare before him, your chest heaving as you panted, your slick leaking out of your pussy.

Felix gazed down at your body, feeling like he was in heaven.

“So beautiful and all mine,” he whispered as he parted your legs to slot himself between them.

He connected his lips to yours once more as he grasped his cock, running it through your folds. You were so wet, your slick coated his length as he teased you over and over.

“Please Lix,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You let out a groan as he slowly pushed in, his cock sending shocks of pain through your core as he stretched you open. You whimpered as he continued to push in, slowly, gently until he was completely inside you, his cock sheathed snuggly in your warm walls.

“Are you ok?” Felix asked, concern laced in his eyes.

You nodded and swiveled your hips, silently begging him to move. Felix grinned before pulling out just to push back in right. Over and over and thrusted into you, the pain transitioning to pleasure as he fucked you.

He watched you with every thrust, not wanting to miss your moans, your little pants, the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit your sweet spot over and over.

“Taking me so well love. God I love you y/n.” Felix groaned as he snapped his hips into yours.

He wasn’t going to last long, not with how you clenched around him, how you whispered his name. He reached down to thumb at your clit, grinning as you let out a squeal at the added pleasure.

“That’s it love, feels good doesn’t it?” Felix teased as he circled the bud, adding more pressure as he dragged his cock within your walls.

You looked up at Felix, how flushed he looked above you as he fucked you, as your walls took him like you were made for him. You felt more arousal gush out of you as you remembered you were made for him.

You were his. He was yours.

And as your mind flooded with that thought, the way his finger thumbed your clit, at how he fucked you just right, your orgasm washed over you causing you to let out a straggled moan.

Your walls clenched around him rhythmically as you came, driving him insane. Felix let out a growl as he stilled his hips against yours, his cum flooding your walls.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, mumbling “you're mine,” again and again.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out as you came down within your lovers arms.

The days passed into summer, each day a treat with Felix by your side. You both have found each other and that was something to celebrate on a daily basis.

Felix showered you with love, waking you up with kisses as he slid between your thighs, making love to you as the sun rose in the sky, bathing you both with its warm light.

He made sure you were well fed, that you wanted for nothing. He peppered you with kisses whenever he could, loving how you would giggle as he kissed your nose, your cheeks, your lips, your neck.

Life was good which is something you haven’t been able to say in a long time. — — You both sat in bed one morning, tangled in each others embrace. As you slid your fingers through his hair, you hummed a little song, happy and content.

Felix lifted his head up and smiled. “What has my love so happy this morning?”

“Hmm maybe you,” you chuckled as you pulled him close.

“Now why is that I wonder,” he teased as he pressed a kiss to your lips and pushed his cock within you.

“Ah Felix!” You groaned as he rocked his hips into yours, slow and gentle as the wind gently blew through your open window.

Felix buried his head in your neck as he brought both of you to your highs, your fingers playing with his hair.

“Y/n, this pussy, your sweet pussy.” Felix moaned as your pussy clenched around him.

“You’re mine!” He growled as he bite into the side of your neck, soothing the area with his tongue afterwards.

“I’m yours!” You whimpered as you came, wrapping your legs around him.

Felix’s hips stuttered as he reached his climax, his seed painting your walls white in the early morning hours.

He collapsed on top of you, steadying his breath as he came down. You both laid there in silence, basking in each other’s afterglow.

“So what happens now?” You asked breaking the silence. “Do I come back with you? To the future?”

Felix thought for a moment. Deep down he knew what he had to do, but he didn’t want to leave you. What if it doesn’t work and he doesn’t see you again in the future?

No, he wasn’t going to take that chance. He would bring you with him.

“Come with me. We can go back together.”

You considered his words for a moment. You didn’t want to part with him, so going with him seemed like the best option.

“Hmmm ok,” you agreed.

“Let’s get dressed and we can go back to the agency and see what we can do.”

You agreed and got up with him. You both showered and got dressed quickly, not wanting to waste any more time.

Felix hailed a hover car and you both got in, directing the driver to go to the agency. Once there, Felix ushered you quickly to the matchmaker’s office, hoping to see Mavis.

He grinned when he saw her, running up to the woman and accidentally startling her.

“Mr. Lee! What are you doing here?”

“I was successful Mavis! I found my soulmate. We’re ready to go back!”

Mavis looked over his shoulder and saw you standing a ways back, swaying back and forth slightly.

“Ah, I can see that,” Mavis said with approval. “Come with me.”

She led both of you to the room Felix was in before, the Time Machine familiar this time around.

“Alright, get in,” Mavis said gesturing towards the glass box.

Felix grabbed your hand and pulled you into the box. Once settled, Felix gave Mavis the thumbs up, signaling you both were ready.

Mavis nodded and pressed a few more buttons, the buzzing sound Felix remembered from last time intensifying.

Felix turned to you and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you gushed as you squeezed his hand.

The air began to ripple, the room began to disintegrate. The air became thin, both of you gasping for breath as a pain hit your stomachs.

Felix closed his eyes briefly as he felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He squeezed your hand in earnest, hoping it would be over soon.

However, time passed and the feeling remained.

Something wasn’t right.

Felix opened his eyes and stared ahead in horror as his eyes took in the vast emptiness. You were still with him, gripping his hand as tight as you could, your face laced with pain.

“Y/n!” He said, wrapping you in his arms.

Felix looked around. You were both in an empty space, nothing was around. No people, no buildings, no trees. Nothing.

He felt like he was going to throw up, the pain in his chest slowly dissipating, but not fast enough.

You both sank to your knees, kneeling on air, clutching each other.

How is this possible? Where are you? Was there a malfunction with the machine?

Felix screamed for help, pleading, begging for anyone to help him. To help you.

But to his horror, no one came to the rescue, both of you trapped in some type of glitch.

Felix held you in his arms, glancing at your beautiful face. At least he had you, his soulmate.

That’s why he went back into he past in the first place right?

To find his soulmate and here you were with him, in his arms.

His soulmate, someone he can love for eternity and you both had eternity now locked in whatever place you were in.

He brushed your hair away from your face, and gazed into your beautiful brown eyes and whispered

“I love you.”

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

348 notes · View notes

st7rnioioss · 3 days ago

Text

۶ৎ FARMERS!DAUGHTER!READER x COWBOY!MATT STURNIOLO

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... smut, fingering, praise kink?, secret relationship, mentions of a gun

you panted as you laid up against matt’s chest, the old bed beneath your bodies letting out squeaks as you squirmed, your nails digging into his jean-clad thighs, letting a sharp whine slip from your parted slip.

“y’gotta be quiet for me, darlin’. can’t have your daddy catch us, can we?” his voice sounded just beside your ear, dragging another whimper from your lips. just the thought of anyone seeing you like this made your head fuzz and eyes close shut, and another sweet moan echoed through the room.

matt had made you sneak out earlier, telling you to tell your father that you were just ‘running an errand’. but! matt had taken you to the roadhouse just down the country road. and gosh, had he adored watching you let loose, twirling around in the pretty white dress that complimented your soft skin just perfectly. he didn’t care about the drinks that night, leaving the roadhouse with more than half a beer left, but you in his hands.

hence why you’re here now… one of matt’s hands rest on your lower stomach, holding you still against his body, his other hand shoved under the beautiful dress, your panties tucked to the side as his fingers relentlessly make their way in and out of your sloppy cunt. his palm occasionally makes contact with your clit, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“matt! i can’t! please, please, please..” you blabbered, attempting to close your legs, but it was impossible from his legs locked around yours, keeping you spread open just for him. his fingers continued their languid movements, curling just perfectly to nudge at that sweet spot within you.

he was enjoying every second of this. watching his little angel fall completely apart beneath him, seeing him ruin you, from just his fingers. this wasn’t even the beginning of what he had of plans.

“nuh, uh. you can, baby. or i’ll stop..” he chuckled when he felt you immediately shake your head pathetically, nails digging further into the dark-washed denim with a whine of disagreement. you had to be quiet because he was well aware that your daddy had a well-beloved shotgun, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

the whole situation has your head spinning. sure, you’ve done this before - alone. you’re so aroused from him reaching further than you could ever dream to attempt yourself, throwing your head back against his shoulder, feeling his chin rest on your collarbone to take a peek at his fingers thrust in and out of your sweet hole. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty, darlin’… cum for me.” his accent was thick, making your stomach churn and walls clench around his digits.

your eyes fell shut, back arching as his thumb made contact with your soft bud, his hand on your stomach sneaking its way to your mouth, muffling your moans as it became hard to hold back the sweet noises that threatened to slip, the only noise in the room being the wet and lewd squelching from your pussy.

“juuuust like that, huh? y'like that?” his hand tightened on your mouth when you let go of his thighs to instead dig your nails into his forearms and nodded weakly, your cunt tightening around his fingers that kept fucking in and out of your sopping cunt, his thumb not slowing the deliberate circles on your clit.

with a quiet whimper, you cum around his digits while he kisses and nibbles on the soft skin of your neck. “there we go, baby.. made jus’ for me, aren’t ya?” he cooed, slowing down his movements before they stopped completely, withdrawing his fingers from your sweet pussy.

hesitantly, he removed his hand from your mouth, his thumb running across your lower lip as he tugged it down, the fingers that had been inside of your pussy moment prior now resting on your tongue. as if your head wasn’t already clouded, it definitely was now, and it only made you want him to do it all over again.

“such an angel,” he kissed down your neck again, feeling your tongue swirl around the digits between your lips, before removing them with a pop. you turned your head to look up at him through hooded eyes, your face flushed and panting heavily.

“such an angel…” his words repeated, pressing a kiss to your forehead as a warm smile spread across your pink lips. “gotta get you to bed now, shall we?” you nodded, sitting back up in the bed as you tugged your panties back on.

“matty?” he turned around when he heard your sweet voice, putting his hat back on. “will i see you again tomorrow?” he almost melted at your words, smiling as you crawled under the covers.

“of course you will, sweet thing. i’ll be right back before you know it.” he stood by the edge of your squeaky bed, tilting your head up to meet his gaze by taking your chin between his fingers. “sleep tight, dolly.” you blushed at his words, smiling widely while looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“good night, matt.” you whispered, as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, keeping his fingers on your chin. he pulled back, taking a look at you sitting there, all pretty in your bed, before pressing a finger to his lips as if to shush you, backing his way to the window. you giggled when he fiddled with the window, offering you a wink before he disappeared out into the night.

you were sure that night, that he’d just dragged you to heaven and back.

more farmers!daughter!reader here!

୭˚. ᵎᵎ tags: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn let me know if you'd like to be added or removed at any time!

#🐇་༘࿐ works #farmers!daughter!reader x cowboy!matt #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets smut

320 notes · View notes

xoxochb · 3 days ago

Note

hi how about wedding night sex with percy pls ?

UHM fuck yes!!!!

cw: tons of dialogue at the beginning, fingering, implied oral (m! receiving) at the end, not proof read

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“have I told you how beautiful you look yet?”

“I don’t think so.” lie. he told you twenty-one times only today. “why don’t you tell me now?”

percy laughs against your neck before pecking it delicately. his hand fiddles with the top of the zipper belonging to your wedding dress. “you look beautiful. gods, I want to eat you whole.”

“what’s stopping you?” you tease. though you can already presume what he’s going to say.

“this damn dress.” he manages to get a hold on the zipper, dragging it down urgently.

“eager—” your question is cut short by percy’s lips over your own, the action alone eliciting a moan from you.

when he pulls away he speaks, “that’s enough talking for tonight, hm?”

shit weak knees. you let him re-attach his lips with yours as he slips your dress down your body, much to his surprise you’re wearing—

fuck.

“white lingerie?” he nearly breathes out. “for me?”

you shrug mischievously. percy resumes his previous actions until your shed of the white dress, somewhere now on the floor for you to discover in the morning. eagerly, his fingers fiddle with waistband of your lace panties, swiftly dragging them down your legs, you finish this process, kicking the rest off the edge of the bed.

his fingers trail the length of your inner thighs, your breath growing ragged as he reaches closer to your middle, and a shiver at the coldness of his wedding ring against your skin.

“perce, please- can you—” your sentence is cut short by a guttural moan as that same finger trailing your bare skin plugs inside of you without warning.

percy pecks his lips over your clavicle, your neck, back down to your chest and stopped over lace fabric. he pouts at this. you feel his finger reach a deeper length, the metal ring hitting you occasionally, sending a bolt of electricity through you.

you’re not entirely sure where to place your hands at first thought. but you decide if they belong anywhere it would be the raven colored hair of your husband. the mere idea that he’s your husband makes a wide grin veil your face. though when said husband’s finger curls inside you, you can’t help the pleasurable cry that leaves your mouth. the smile doesn’t stray far regardless.

you arch yourself into him, slowly rocking your hips to try and gather more friction if that’s possible. his name exits your red lips more than you’d like, unfortunately, it’s the only thing you can think of at the moment.

“perce- fuck- I-” well for starters you can’t breathe. secondly, it happens that your husband is some sort of sex god.

just when the feeling is growing overstimulating, he inserts a second finger, having you pull harshly at his hair. in response, he only laughs. you feel like you’re going to die now. though you can’t help thinking you’d rather die like this than any other way.

your tummy pools with an inferno-like heat. quickly, your peak creeping upon you like a predator to it’s prey. though the only predator here is perseus jackson who finds joy in pleasuring you until you pass out cold.

when, soon enough, with a singular swipe of his thumb, your orgasm hits you like a freight train. though percy works you through the prolonging of it, whispering quiet sweet nothings into your ear. it only half helps.

slowly, his fingers slide out from inside of you, dripping in your arousal that percy licks them clean of. you don’t try to stop the moan that the simple action causes you to let out.

still breathless and disoriented, you crawl off the bed and drop to your knees at the edge, beckoning percy to sit in front of where you sit kneeling.

“my turn?

yes, indeed it was.

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse #riordanverse x reader #riordan universe

197 notes · View notes

m1ssunderstanding · 1 day ago

Text

My thoughts on Beatles 64

Am I a terrible person or something because I’m genuinely having such a hard time wrapping my head around these people’s reactions to their president getting shot. Like I can count on one hand the people I’d give a fuck about in DC and I’m not crying if that happens. I’m angry. I’m scared. But I’m not sad.

Who is this covering all my loving? It’s pretty.

I will forever love Paul and George’s big and little brother dynamic. Deep, cloudy scouse: they’re in perfect synchronization. Bright, squeaky scouse: Are they? Like, where is George’s little chimney sweep costume?!

And Paul’s sharp tone calling John’s name. I don’t know, I could obsess over any little scrap of footage of them. I just love picking apart details that reveal dynamics.

George’s insecure, curious, “Are you filming now?” Compared to his over-it, sardonic, “Are you recording our conversation?” He aged about twenty years between 64 and 69.

John’s reaction to his own voice in his ears is always a straight shot of joy.

I like that they’re showing all the boys. You know, because if only girls like them, then they’re just a silly pop group, but if boys like them too, well. That’s something else, isn’t it?

One of my favorite moments. No wonder Paul took so well to shepherding. His blood pressure spiking if John gets out of arm's reach. And John is of course so happy to be pulled back in.

Their hair really was so fluffy!

John spreads his legs when he’s playing because he’s an anxious attachment. Paul keeps his legs closed because he’s avoidant. In this essay I will.

This mix of She Loves You is really highlighting Ringo’s drumming for me. He’s so talented and attractive.

This is why Paul’s my favorite, genuinely. Because he goes from the most polite, people-pleasing, tender-heart to an absolute mean girl cunty bitch in the span of less than a second.

Ringo is the quickest wit, I’m telling you, and if anyone says otherwise, I’m cancelling you for classism.

Why is it always Paul these middle aged creeps feel the need to touch? I mean, I know why. But it makes me sick. That kind of thing is reserved for the mutuals. Definitely not cops.

It’s literally sooooo funny for me seeing this guy choke up about She Loves You. Like I’m genuinely happy for him, but I was literally just over at my husband’s grandparents double-wide and they Still go on about how stupid the Beatles haircuts were and how they remember the days before the Beatles when there was ‘real’ rock and roll on the radio.

So, Paul’s been telling the story of Jim critiquing She Loves You for literally sixty years now, and originally it was with mix-ins from John and George and without a lot of artificial sweeteners. Here’s the sixty-year-old version:

Back home in Liverpool, we used to sing over some of our songs to relatives—I did to my Dad and my aunties,” he recalled. “My Dad would look at me looking disappointed. ‘I don’t know young Paul,’ he’d say. ‘I try to get you to speak properly, and you drop your aitches. Why sing ‘Yeah, Yeah’ when you mean ‘Yes, Yes?’ I tried to explain this was the whole point of the song,” Paul continued. John broke in: “Anyone ever heard someone from Liverpool singing ‘Yes’? It’s YEAH.” Paul continued: “Well, we just laughed. My Dad gave us some of the worst advice ever. He said this music thing will never last. It’s all right on the side, he’d say, BUT PAUL IT WILL NEVER LAST!” “Remember,” said George, “he always wanted us to sing ‘Stairway to Paradise’?” – Ray Coleman article 1964

What a cutie. Shouldn't be allowed.

“That wasn’t really the case.” (that America was the land of the free). He always almost gets to his political views. You know? Microdosing? Left-bating? Maybe both. Whatever.

I LOVE their funny little accents with all my heart. John does posh scarily well.

Ringoooooooo!

“Go on! Defy convention!” Quotes that define the speaker. He should sell t-shirts with that slogan.

This girl’s Brooklyn accent and her confidence are so beautiful!

Why did they buy John an ID I’m actually dying! Oh! They don’t mean, they mean like Paul’s and Ringo’s bracelets. Got it. Okay. I was like ‘are you trying to help him ten years in advance with his immigration struggle?’

The juilliard girl is phenomenal.

I want the nylons and I want the shoes.

“Would you do me a tremendous favor?” “I’m not gonna kiss you like Elisabeth Taylor.” See? Ringo is the funny one. Ringo is so fucking sharp and nobody gives him the credit he’s due.

Ronnie Spector you deserved better, Queen! I love her. She’s so gorgeous, she’s so cool, she’s so young and energetic!

Two excellent Lennonisms right in a row. “Have you been watching the newsies?” and “I don’t care,” I say as I care caringly. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, he has the most sunshiny smile in the Beatles.

Ringoooooo!

Not the picture of JohnandPaul singing together as “with lovers and friends” plays.

Love Paul offering Ringo a candy. In yet another accent. People need to make them talk in goofy accents more in fic because it’s incessant. But I just love them offering each other food. It’ll always get me.

See, this is what I love about John. “People have been tryna stamp out rock and roll since it started.” “Why do you think that is? What are they afraid of?” “I always thought it was cause it came from black music.” He’s not ‘honest to a fault’ or whatever the boomer men love to say. But he’s very, very blunt, and he’s not going to try and skirt anything. You know?

Literally the most embarrassing thing a person can ever be is white.

“I thought it was very weak. You know what I think, I call a spade a spade. I thought it was weaker than weak.” Cook him! And then the mimicking! I love him so much! Holy shit, that would’ve been so enraging.

And then the quiet sass of the guy being interviewed right after. “Well, the versatility, the originality. I like anything that’s original.” I love some clever tumblr web-weaving in my documentaries.

In my husband’s grandparent’s defense, the “real rock and roll” they loved before the Beatles was literally only black artists.

I love this picture for ever. Look at how tight he’s holding on to John with one hand and the other hand raised in joyous triumph, engagement bracelet visible. This is Paul in heaven.

“The whole assumption of male vs female is not prominent. They’re sort of in-between.” Yes. Love. Keep going.

Ringo’s got all the quips, again. “Ringo, look over here!” Puts his hands up. “Don’t shoot!”

I didn’t know Smokey Robinson and the Miracles went to the Cavern, that’s cool! And here I was thinking I wouldn’t learn anything new from this doc. His whole interview is very lovely and generous.

I always think “You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me” probably spoke to John in terms of his relationship with Paul, but I go there so easily. Anyway, Smokey Robinson had every right to be pissed that they released a cover of his song without even asking. Like that would be illegal nowadays, right? And yet he’s so kind about it.

We talk about how scary Beatlemania was and we should because it was, but it really puts it in perspective for me personally hearing Smokey say he was shot at for trying to use the bathroom.

Oh I love that we have footage of Paul taking Ringo’s picture! Makes me think of “eye of the storm” obviously, but also the way he’s mocking the photographer's jargon of the time as he’s doing it. The fact that he ended up marrying a photographer who made a point to depict him as not just “some doe eyed sex object” in her pictures, and also of his song “pretty boys” and his quotes about the sexualization of “male models”. Definitely not about anything he himself experienced. Anyway, thoughts. Strings. Pins. Etc.

Also Ringo turning to the camera still filming him, “what do you think I am, a monkey?” Remember that part in this footage where Ringo says something like, “are we ever going to have a break from all these cameras?” And he’s exhausted. It really seems like, from the footage selected by this doc at least, that Paul and Ringo were doing the bulk of the lifting at this time just with cooperating with the show biz stuff. And isn’t that (interesting? Sad? Poetic? Good?) that they’re the ones still cooperating sixty years later.

How dare they cut out “but we ain’t written no poetry!”

As John’s panicking, “how are we gonna – have you seen the kids? How are we gonna get in, then?” Paul’s just calmly going, “Hi girls!” With a patient smile and a cute little wave. “I’ll just go in and speak to the people first, okay?” I love Paul “calming-down-other-people’s-hysteria-is-my-calling-in-life” McCartney.

Cute, George introducing a song he’ll do a viral backflip to in twenty years.

I wonder what that letter is. John’s being very tender with it.

“You’re fired!” “It’s Love Me Do, whacker!” With the sweetest most innocent smile. I love when John is John, you know?

“To me they’re all obviously low or middle class, highly illiterate, unintelligent wild kids seeking a little fun and pleasure . . . I think there’s something very strange about it at the same time, something very sick. . . . I’m sure that sexual reasons have something to do with it. They find the Beatles sexually attractive and they’ve made some kind of psychological tie with them. I think the whole thing’s a little bit frightening and quite sick.” Where’s that old meme with Trump describing the democrats in the most hateful terms he can think of and people being like “yep that’s me”?

Paul stopping to say goodbye by name to each of the people who've been in their hotel room one by one. It’s giving *Opra voice* “and you please don’t hate us and you please dont hate us and you please don’t hate us”

Ringo coming back because he went the wrong way is the most me-core thing.

Paul will come in with the random shouts and yelling in the middle of a song he’s singing lead on all the way from the very beginning and all the way to the very very end, huh.

I just get filled with so much rage at this image of the Bernstein family, especially after the footage of the Gonzalezes. Like, I know I need therapy. I know. But it costs money. Anyway, all rich people can go straight to hell. “I was allowed to wheel the TV set down from the library, down the corridor and into the dining room.” Oh, were you! Well, you must be very special, then.

I wonder if Paul’s title of his exhibition has anything to do with this quote from John about “It was like being in the eye of a hurricane.”

The girl hanging on Ringo like a jungle-gym is me. I love the way he flirts, it’s so smooth, physical, casual.

Classic John moment and he doesn’t even open his mouth.

My dearest wish is that these two are happily married now, holding hands in the theater watching this.

The voice of the woman asking Paul “what do you think of the American TV” sounded extremely like Linda’s. I sort of panicked for a second. Linda’s voice is lower, but the accent and cadence and the sort of wealthy slouch is the same.

I love them picking up on the dystopian beginnings of America’s version of late-stage capitalism and broadcasting the ridiculousness of it all to a public that didn’t know any different. “The situation in China is very bad. Have you ever wondered, when you’re eating at home?”

The guys setting up wearing Beatles wigs? Ew. Why?

Ringo’s so funny! “Watch any band. If anything goes wrong, they go – Blame the drummer.” And he’s so endearing and sweet. “I just always wanted to be IN the band, not like ‘oh, I’m over here.’” Reminds me of his quote about being lonely as an only child and ending up with three brothers. What a tenderheart.

Huh. Always thought some idiots just set up his rostrum backwards. The rest of the stage spinning around it makes much more sense.

That little smile between the two of them.

George in tears! Poor baby! I really do think, with the way this affected him on another level than it affected the others, and with the way he talked about his experiences at the Inny compared to Paul (not that you can trust Paul to say anything actually gets to him) that George maybe was more sensitive to classism than the others.

I hope Paul said something to that affect to George after. “They’re working at an embassy. We’re on the road, rocking. I don’t give a flying fuck.” You know? I could see it.

Another thing I love about John. You need that guy on your team, whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish. That when people are being bitchy, you tell them to fuck off and you leave. I bet Paul, George, and Ringo were so relieved that John did that for them.

After Ringo talked about not wanting to be back behind and separate from the band, I’ve noticed all three of them stepping back sometimes to stand more in line with him when they’re not singing. I don’t know if it was conscious or natural, but either way, I love that they did that and I’m sure Ringo did too.

The looks and smiles

I usually maintain that Paul is only sexy from 60-61 and from 68-98 and from 18-now. But. This is just objectively hot, I don’t care who you are.

It’s so sweet to see George being such a ham, getting John to do silly bits with him, putting on a waiter’s uniform and passing out drinks, climbing up in the luggage compartment. I wish they could’ve somehow kept it at a pace that was manageable for him so he could’ve kept on being so happy with his life, you know? I mean it’s not like it just disappears completely. There’s some of it in Get Back and even in Anthology, but it’s just not the same.

This is what happens when you’re a slut, Paul. You get paternity suits that ruin your mood. Shame, shame.

Interesting that Paul points out Brian’s “defying convention” by having them play their scandalous rock and roll shows in all these “hallowed halls”. I’d never thought about it as Brian’s conscious decision but obviously it must’ve been, and that’s very clever and snarky of him.

“That man, who is strong enough to be gentle, that is a new man.” Betty Friedan is pro-beatle. We love to see it!

Watching Paul try to behave like a human being on stage with all of his early twenties energy is honestly painful. It’s like Kurt Vonnegut’s Harrison Bergeron, you know? Like I can just see him aching to let himself free, but there are weights put in place for a reason. I know Brian was right to calm them down, and this documentary is proof that if he hadn’t done his taming, either they never would’ve made it or there would’ve been all-out class warfare or something, but it breaks my heart, it really does.

Ronald Isley, again, just like Smokey Robinson, being so so charitable here, and managing to do so without playing down the fact that things were absolutely rigged against him and his group at the time. “We should be on the Ed Sullivan show doing . . .” Yes. Yes.

I looked it up, and this quote is genuine. “If it wasn’t for the isley brothers, we would still be in Liverpool.” – Paul McCartney. That’s one thing I love about him. He’s always giving – very much due – credit to his black contemporaries. People ask him about Elvis and he always says, “yes, and Little Richard.” People say he was the most innovative bass player of his time and he says, “yes, and Fred Thomas.”

Ringo literally gets me every time. George: I don’t remember Wales. Ringo: It was before you joined the group.

The way Paul talks about George living “the good life” is very much in the tone of an older brother who’s helped his little brother do well for himself, you know? It’s adorable.

Of course Paul’s out feeding seagulls.

Not even going to comment on the “i love you” thing. Nope.

Okay I do have to say, the end of this guy’s story about going to liverpool and getting deported is incredibly sweet. I was kind of ignoring him, and then when he said he met John during Imagine, I sort of braced myself. But it turned out absolutely adorable. I love John’s little antenna miming and that he promoted this guy just for having made the front page of the Liverpool Echo. It’s all very John, very endearing.

I hope Paul and this weepy old guy had a talk about healing yourself from abuse through music. There’s like a 1/100 chance, but I still hope they did.

John loves a good boat analogy, doesn’t he? “There was a ship going to discover the new world. And the beatles were in the crows nest on the same ship [as everyone else] and we just said ‘land ho!’

Love the use of “Roll Over Beethoven” as the final song.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #george harrison #ringo starr #brian epstein #beatles 64

145 notes · View notes

mrs-elsie-barnes · 2 days ago

Text

In The Middle of the Night | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | Drabble 1k

Bucky takes a chance on staying the night at your apartment for the first time. But he wakes with the smell of blood in his nose and a feeling that everything has gone wrong.

Warnings: Nightmare, Bucky has PTSD, descriptions of blood, angst with a fluffy happy ending.

A/N: Maybe I woke up in the night convinced I was having a period so bad it rivals something from a horror movie. And naturally I wrote this to help me go back to sleep.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Hydra had come.

Bucky was half awake, his mind dragging itself back to consciousness with the sure knowledge that spending the night here at your apartment was a terrible idea. Hydra had been watching, they must have been, watching and waiting and now they had hurt you and he would be back in that chair within the hour. He had known it then, protested and put it off and he'd given in and now.

Now.

He could smell blood, it had an iron tang that always lingered in the back of his throat. This was your blood, he had smelt it once before when you had sliced your hand cutting pizza. He'd helped you clean and dress the wound. How could he forget anything about you?

But blood is blood, no matter if it was yours, and it finds its way into his nose and clings there. He could smell it even in his dreams and now, eyes closed but conscious, he can smell it in the room.

Bucky slid his left hand under his pillow, the right was still holding your close. If this was the end, if this was his final moments, he wanted to stretch it out for as long as possible.

You were still warm, so they were close, maybe he had time, maybe -

He sat up with a start, knife in hand and surveyed the room.

Empty, dark, light from between the curtains sliced the carpet it two, but there was no sign of anyone else.

Beside him you sprawled in the sheets, your back to him, but searching for the hand that had been clutched in your own. Movement. You're moving, your hand reaching for his and, not finding it, you roll forwards into your pillow and cuddle that instead.

If you're moving you can't be dead.

Bucky repeats it to himself. If she's moving she can't be dead.

But why is there still that smell. His dreams are vivid but this - it lingers.

He looked down at his hands, reluctant to give up the knife, and there it is smeared all over his right hand.

Your blood.

And his hands and his leg. God it's everywhere and he can't tell now what's real and what's the trick of the light, just a patch a shadow or a pool of blood?

Is this worse than Hydra? This feeling that he's hurt you? Which fear had he ranked at number one? And did it matter now that one of them had happened and he'd done the unthinkable?

Bucky moved backwards, quickly and quietly, he moved away, dropping the knife to the floor and sinking onto the hardwood, wrapping himself in his arms.

"Bucky -" your voice is sleep rough but sweet, shards of handmade toffee, grains of brown sugar at the bottom of his coffee cup, all that's good in his life and he had hurt you. "You okay, Buck?"

There's a rustle as you push back the sheets and then, "oh - shit."

Is that all you can say to the obvious pain he's caused, you're too good. Too good for him, too good for anyone really, who could compare to -

"Baby, why are you on the floor?" Now you're just confused, fully awake and moving in the room.

Your hands cup his cheeks and brush away tears he didn't even know he was shedding.

"Don't, please, I've hurt you, you're bleeding and I thought it was Hydra but it was me-"

"Oh," your laugh is just as wrinkled and sleepy as your voice, "you didn't hurt me Bucky, I - well I'm kinda embarrassed, haven't been caught out since school, but I got my period."

Bucky looks you over now, the flimsy night dress you'd worn to bed only just touches the tops of your thighs, it's white and the satin shines in the moonlight, but all he can see is the rose of blood on the hem, the sticky shimmer between your legs.

"My hands, I woke up and my hands were -"

"Remember how we fell asleep?" You coo and he nods shyly.

He does remember, he remembers kissing and sliding a leg between yours and then his hands and it had been so soft and slow. You'd fallen asleep tangled together.

Bucky's mind is racing but he knows one thing now with clarity, he needs to take care of you.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?" There's a frantic urgency to each movement that he makes, trying to stand and sliding on the floor instead.

You laugh again and kiss him, full and hard, on the mouth. It's easy and loving and there's no anger in it at all.

Because he hasn't hurt you.

"No, but thank you. I'm going to take a quick shower, get myself cleaned up and sorted. Then I'll change the sheets. Are you okay? I'm worried about you. Did you have a nightmare?"

Tears well again, he doesn't deserve this.

"You do."

"What?"

"You do deserve this, me, us and I deserve you. I love you, Bucky Barnes, every little bit of you, even the bits that you don't want me to see."

And you kiss his temple, your hands cupping his stubble rough cheeks.

"I love you too." He says with finality, "and I'll change the sheets for you, please go and get comfortable."

It doesn't take Bucky long to strip and change the bed. He soaks the bottom sheet in the sink the way his Ma showed him, and sets a cup of sweet tea and an iron tablet on the bedside table for after your shower.

Before he knows it he's spent his adrenaline on making you comfortable, his eye lids suddenly heavy as soon as you slip back in to bed.

The light clicks off but he doesn't remember doing it. He does remember wrapping his arms around you and tugging you close.

"I love you so much," he whispers into your hair, kissing the top of your head. He can feel your smile when you tip your chin up and kiss his jaw.

"I love you so much, too."

137 notes · View notes

letstrip13 · 2 days ago

Text

💐 - stood up

summary: when you get stood up on your first date, you call your best friend to come pick you up. but instead of taking you home, he has a better plan.

warnings: none, just fluff!

word count: 1,571

author's note: reupload!! also new acc theme!! + don't forget to read the very end bc i have a couple things to say! enjoy the fic <3

------------------------୨୧------------------------

you bring your phone up to your ear, listening to it ring and waiting for him to pick up. you pace around a little in the parking lot of a small italian restaurant. the cold breeze makes you shiver in your dress and heels, and you regret even wanting to go on this date. you took the time applying your makeup and styling your hair to perfection.

but the date never happened. you got stood up. you waited around for almost twenty minutes before you got the text from your date. all it said was, “sorry, can't make it. something came up.” but you knew nothing came up. just a few minutes ago, he posted on his snapchat story. he was with another girl. he not only stood you up, but he stood you up for someone else.

one ring, two rings, three rings. finally, you hear chris’ voice on the other end. “hello?” he says in a confused tone. “i thought you were on your date.”

“not anymore,” you tell him, holding back tears. “can you come get me?” “yeah, of course. i'm on my way.” he hangs up and you send him your location.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

chris’ pov: i grab my keys and wallet before rushing out of the house, ignoring my brothers calling after me, asking why i’m leaving in such a hurry. you’re the only thing on my mind right now. it sounded like you were fighting tears. you’re my best friend and i want to do everything in my power to make you happy.

i drive to the location you sent me as fast as i can and i pull into the deserted parking lot. the only one there is you, sitting on the curb in your dress and heels, looking so sad yet so beautiful at the same time. i park and get out of the car, quickly coming over to sit next to you. i wrap my arm around you, gently rubbing your arm and shoulder. “hey, what happened?” the way you look up at me, your eyes glossing over with tears, makes my heart ache.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

you look up at him, trying your best not to cry. you know he hates to see you upset like this. you unlock your phone and open it to the “sorry, can't make it” text. he takes the phone from you, eyebrows furrowing as he reads it. “really? he didn't even give you a reason?” you take your phone back. “oh, it gets worse.” you go onto snapchat and open his story before passing it to chris. you watch as his jaw clenches, a subtle but clear sign that he's mad.

“i can't fucking believe this guy,” he exclaims as he hands your phone back to you. “i don't understand how he could do that to you. it's his loss though, you look beautiful.” you smile at chris, a genuine smile, he always knows how to cheer you up. “thank you. and you're right, i can do better.”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

chris’ pov: there's a few moments of silence before i take a deep breath and speak up again. “listen, i have an idea. i know that neither of us have ever been on a real date, but i want to take you out on one.”

i watch as you shake your head. “no, it's okay. i think i should just go home. i just wasn't meant to go on a date tonight.” i run my hand through my hair. “please? you deserve to be taken out on a real date.”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

you think it over for a moment before you end up agreeing. he takes your hand as the both of you stand up and he holds it the whole way to his car, only letting go to open the door for you. you both get in and get comfortable. “so, where are we going, princess?”

the nickname catches you off guard a little, but it's sweet that he's calling you that. “honestly, i kind of feel like just going to a drive-thru.” he chuckles as he starts the car, not expecting that to be your answer. “alright, whatever you want.” he starts the car and starts driving around the city.

he pulls into a drive-thru lineup of a place you both agreed on. the line moves fast and before you know it, you're holding the bag of food while he's driving to some sort of mystery spot.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

chris’ pov: i know the perfect spot to take you. i like coming here to have a moment alone with my thoughts, and it has an amazing view. by the time we get there, the sun has just started to set. it's completely deserted, not far from the beach. we eat our food, talking and laughing between bites. it seems like you completely forgot about the other guy and it puts me at ease to see that.

after we finish eating, we watch the sun go down, enjoying the comfortable silence between us. you check your phone and i don't pay any mind to it, deciding to check mine too. i glance over and notice that you're on snap, more specifically, his snap. i snatch your phone out of your hand before you can check his story. “nope, you're not doing that. forget about him. he's not good enough for you.”

“i wasn't even going to-” “shhh, i know what you were doing.” you're silent for a moment. “what if i get back at him?” “and how would we do that?” i ask with an amused smirk.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“i could post us on my story. he doesn't know who you are, so he'd think i'm on a real date.” he scoffs, pretending to be offended, “wow, not a real date, huh? i thought we had something, princess.” you nudge his shoulder with yours, causing him to smile after trying to hold it back.

you take your phone back from him and go onto snapchat to take the picture for your story. he leans in close to you as you get the camera angle just right. suddenly, he turns his head and plants a wet kiss on your cheek, just as you hit the button. you weren't expecting it, but it came out perfectly. “ew, chris, it's slobbery!” you giggle. he laughs too and posts the picture to your story for you.

“wanna go for a walk on the beach?” he asks. “sure, sounds fun.” he gets out of the car first and as he shuts his door, he notices your hand on the door handle. “wait!” he climbs over the hood of his car, almost falling in the process as you laugh at his ridiculous gesture. he opens the car door for you, a goofy grin on his face. you step out of the car, thanking him between fits of laughter. “you could've just went around, you know.” “i didn’t think of that.. it was more fun that way anyways.”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

chris’ pov: we make our way down to the beach and we walk along the shoreline, stopping every now and then to admire the clusters of stars that are appearing in the sky. as night falls, i notice you begin to shiver in your dress. i unzip my gray hoodie*, shrugging it off and draping it across your shoulders. “here, take this.” “thank you.” you slip your arms in and zip it up about three quarters of the way as we continue to walk.

*yes, that gray hoodie.

you suddenly stop, giving my arm a gentle tug as you do so to get my attention. i always thought it was so cute when you did that. “can we get ice cream?” i look to where you're pointing and there's a small ice cream shop. it's hidden, kind of tucked away but it looks open. “mhmm, whatever you want.”

we go in, ordering a bowl with two scoops, each getting a scoop of our favourite flavour. we sit across from each other in a booth and share the ice cream. we stay until the last workers are practically shoving us out the door so they can close up.

we walk along the beach together, back the way we came, hand in hand. it's nice to take our time, not having a worry or care in the world as we enjoy each other's company and the sounds of the waves.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

you eventually get to the parking lot and once we're in the car, he lets you pick the music. it's about a twenty minute drive to your house. when you're about five minutes away, he notices you starting to drift off a little. he places his hand on your knee, giving it a gentle shake to wake you up. “hey, don't fall asleep on me now,” he murmurs, “we're almost there.”

he parks in your driveway and turns the car off so you can both get out. you shoot him a confused look. “you don't have to walk me to the door, it's like 30 steps away,” you say with a light smile. “i know but i wanted to.” he walks to your door with you and you start to unzip his sweater. “no, it's fine. i'll get it another time.” he holds you tightly as you pull him into a hug. “thank you, chris. this was the best date ever.” you pull away and give him one last goodbye before going inside, shutting the door behind you.

------------------------୨୧------------------------

author's note 2: follow my bestie pinkfilipowicz on instagram, i'm trying to help her with her goal of getting 100 followers by the end of 2024!! she's also doing a new thing called "madi monthly recap" i'm not fully sure what it is but don't miss it bc i know it's gonna be good!!

check out my masterlist for more!

join my taglist!

#chris x reader #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

124 notes · View notes

atenea585 · 2 days ago

Note

I loveeee ur works, could u do 15 with Ben?

💕

Awww, I'm glad you like my works and I hope you continue reading them. Here goes what you asked for❤️

Prompts: “I could ruin you.” “You mean… In a kinky way or bad way?”

Pairing: Soldier Boy/ Ben x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: Sexual tension, language.

Ben was not one to deny himself the different pleasures in life. He saw something, he wanted it. He wanted to feel good, then he would get it. The same thing happened with women.

Except with you.

No one knew what was wrong with you and him, but everyone noticed how he seemed to ignore you when it came to flirting. Maybe it was because you were too “young” to fit his tastes or that you were simply too insufferable for him to turn around to look at you.

The truth is that Ben saw an innocence in you that he didn’t want to ruin, an innocence that he wanted to maintain. But your attitude did not match that image he had of you.

When you got angry, Ben saw you as an adorable puppy. It wasn’t for anything specific, he just saw you like that. He had created this image of you and nothing and no one could take it away from him. Not even you.

That’s why he ignored your advances.

You wanted Ben, you really did. And it made you angry to think that he ignored you because you were just a little and innocent child to him. You weren’t innocent, at least not to a certain extent. You didn’t know why he saw you like that or why he insisted on not wanting to ruin it.

Damn, Ben, ruin me.

“I just don’t understand why you ignore me.”

“Believe me, darlin’, you’ll thank me later.”

You frowned and put your hands on your hips.

“You know something? Just tell me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why do you sleep with all the women in the world, but you reject me as if I had the plague?”

“I won’t talk about my reasons with a damn little girl.”

He turned to leave, but you held his arm. He turned to look at you, and it was obvious that he could easily push you away if he wanted to. But he just sighed and stared at you.

“So that’s it? Am I a just a little girl or too childish for you?”

“Doll…”

“I’m not a kid, Ben.”

He watched you carefully.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” He asked.

“You know what I want.”

In one swift movement, he broke free of your hold with ease and grabbed your arms, making you walk backwards until your back hit the wall, making you let out a surprised gasp.

“Don’t you fuckin’ see it? How can you be so fucking blind?” He said under his breath close to your face. “I could ruin you.”

His fingers digging into your arms firmly, but not painfully. A shiver ran down your spine, his breath on your face was like the air needed to breathe. You felt wetness between your legs. You smiled sideways.

Why couldn’t he understand that that was exactly what you wanted?

“You mean… In a kinky way or bad way?”

He stared at you for a few moments, perhaps thinking that you must be fucking joking or that you had gone crazy.

But at the same time that your innocence kept him away from you, your attitude was what attracted him back.

He looked down briefly at your lips and let go of you, taking a step back to keep his distance and his lust in line.

“You’re fucking insane.” He said under his breath, as if he were spitting venom with every word spoken.

“I am aware of it.” You whispered.

He snorted and shook his head, giving you one last look before turning around and leaving. But Ben couldn’t contain the smile that appeared on his lips as he walked away, his mind replaying the recent moment.

You stayed there, against the wall, your breathing and heartbeat still irregular. You smiled and closed your eyes, remembering his touch and savoring the moment

Please, Ben… Ruin me. You prayed up to this point.

Special Hundred Followers

Soldier Boy Imagines/Headcanons

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Masterlist

Join my Tag List

@yjessi @s7nburn @tommysaxes @rxouxcesss @deaniemyboo @mrs-nesmith @jackles010378 @ineffable-moons @ailishnovak @dilfsandmartinis @cravemeintellectually @montyrokz @k-slla @v1v1-3 @l-05

#fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #the boys series #the boys #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys x reader #drabble #jensen ackles characters

77 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 13 hours ago

Text

Cannibals [Chapter 4: Foxes and Sailfish]

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), awkward interactions on a boat, making friends in the Vale, references to war-related violence, Aemond flashbacks haunt the narrative, Red and Jace share an exciting new experience!

Word count: 5.8k

❤️ All my writing can be found HERE! 💙

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

The fireplace crackles, there’s smoke in the air. The shards of seashells take shape on the board as you affix them with paste made of boiled bones, unloved bodies you’ve scavenged: rabbits, foxes, deer, weasels, squirrels, snakes, turtles, birds. Sometimes Criston will find you searching for carcasses in the garden or the Godswood—a basket full of skulls and ribs, hands covered with dirt—and beg you to go back to Maegor’s Holdfast where you belong. He says: Please, princess, let me do that for you. I’ll bring you all the bones you need. This is too grisly a task for young ladies. And then, when you try to refuse him: Red, it hurts your mother when you’re like this. And so you accept his offer and surrender your basket, knowing that being the daughter Mother wishes you were will always require pretending.

Aemond is in bed, freshly rid of his left eye and floating in a silent, pearlescent lake of milk of the poppy. He is unconscious for now, but he can only have a dose every six hours, and when it begins to wear off he becomes feverish and fearful. You can’t leave him. Aemond is a year older than you, always just a little bit wiser, always quicker and steadier on his feet; you have never known a world without him in it. But now he is the one who needs you. This is a strange feeling.

Mother, Criston, Helaena, and Maester Orwyle are always gliding in and out of the room—whispering, grim-faced ghosts—but at the moment you are alone with Aemond. A shadow appears in the doorway. It’s Aegon, and his face is marred too: there’s a bruise on his cheekbone from where someone hit him, Grandsire or Mother. He is slumped against the doorframe with a goblet of wine in his hand. He takes a slurp and uses his cup to gesture to where Aemond is sleeping. It’s a question.

“He’s alright, Aegon,” you say. “He’s resting. He’s healing.”

He licks his lips and skims his fingerprint around the rim of the goblet, pensive. “I wasn’t there.”

“None of us were.”

“Does he blame me for what happened?”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“But you would know if he felt it.”

Would I? Sometimes you don’t believe you know Aemond as well as they imagine you do. There have always been things he doesn’t tell you. You didn’t know he was planning to claim Vhagar. He is unpredictable, he is a deep reservoir of secrets; he taunts you, he guards you, he ignores you, he comes rushing back. You say to Aegon: “I don’t think he blames you.”

Aegon exhales, drunken exhausted relief. “Good.”

Beneath blankets that Helaena has embroidered with legends from the Age of Heroes, Aemond stirs. His remaining eye—glazed, drugged, an empty anemic blue—flutters opens and drifts to you. “Now we know why you don’t have a dragon,” he says, weak and raspy. “The price has gone up. They cost an eye each.”

You paint a sliver of a cerulean-colored shell with glue. “I’d pay that if I knew it would work.”

Aemond asks, as if it has been weighing on him: “Do I horrify you?”

You smile softly. “No more than you did before.”

From where he still loiters in the doorway nursing his wine, Aegon snickers. Aemond grins, then winces from the pain it causes him. “What are you making?”

“It’s Symeon Star-Eyes,” you say, tilting up the mosaic so he can see it better. “You read us that story, remember? He was a knight who used a staff with blades at both ends to cut down his enemies. He was blinded in combat, so he replaced his eyes with sapphires.”

“Sapphires,” Aemond mumbles drowsily.

“Yes.”

“Blue.”

“Like you,” you say, thinking of his game piece: the blue wolf, a mournful color, a beast that kills.

“Hm,” he murmurs to himself as he sinks back into sleep; and it’s not until Aemond’s wound has healed that you learn of the idea you’ve given him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Vermax is not an especially imposing dragon, a drab sort of green and smaller than Sunfyre, but he is frightening enough when he bares his teeth. He snarls and snaps at you, unloosed fire roiling up in his throat. You stand perhaps ten paces away from him, flinching away from the heat that refracts the air and puts ripples in it like disturbed water. Jace is attempting to soothe Vermax, a palm pressed to the beast’s scales. Rhaenyra and Daemon are watching, confounded.

“Mother wasn’t exaggerating,” you tell them. You are crestfallen; this is a humiliation. You have silver hair and undisputed parentage, and yet Jace is the one whose egg hatched. So who is the true Targaryen?

“Very, very peculiar,” Daemon muses, scratching his chin. He turns to Rhaenyra. “Make her get closer, let’s see what happens.”

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra says impatiently. In the light of day, you can observe her face more clearly. There are dark semicircles under her eyes, and lines that didn’t exist before Luke was killed. She is ten years closer to the grave than she was the night her father died.

You cannot see the riots from where you’re standing in the castle courtyard, but you can hear them, the ambient rumbling of people rejecting Rhaenyra’s rule. They decry the slaughter of Jaehaerys. They shout demands of proof that the imprisoned Greens are alive and well: Mother, Helaena, Jaehaera, Maelor, you. Fear of Rhaenyra’s soldiers and her dragons may delay their wrath, but you don’t believe she can quell it. High overhead, Sheepstealer sails past the Red Keep, casting a massive shadow. Rhaenyra’s frown deepens. Daemon pretends not to notice.

“Very well,” Rhaenyra sighs, summoning Jace to return to her and abandon his attempts to quiet Vermax. Dutifully—though perhaps not without resentment—he acquiesces. Vermax is still growling at you. You glower back, wishing that Vhagar was here to eat him. “There are other ways to get to Heart’s Home. A ship will take longer, ten days or two weeks depending on the wind. The journey should be safe. The Sea Snake’s blockade controls Blackwater Bay, and the Greens have no navy.” Rhaenyra looks to you. “That’s still correct, isn’t it? The usurper was refused by the Greyjoys?”

“I don’t know,” you lie.

She gives you a disapproving glare and then turns her attention back to Jace. “Alyn of Hull can take you to the Vale in his ship. I’m sure Corlys can manage without him for a matter as important as this. I’ve sent a raven ahead to the Corbrays. They’ll be expecting you, and you’ll be married upon your arrival, with Lord and Lady Corbray serving as witnesses. You have until then to get accustomed to each other.”

Jace begins to mutter a protest, low enough that you can’t hear. Rhaenyra shushes him. Vermax takes flight and soars out towards the ocean. You step closer to the castle wall and listen to the clamor of the crowds, willing them to rise up and free your family, to destroy Rhaenyra’s. Daemon stalks you around the courtyard, unsheathing Dark Sister and whistling so you know how near he is. You refuse to acknowledge him.

Rhaenyra is telling Jace: “When the war is won, the Greens’ surviving loyalists will accept you as my heir if you are married to her and father her children.”

“What about Aegon? What if Aemond and Criston manage to smuggle him into hiding somewhere, and then one day he reappears and—?”

“Aegon won’t live,” Rhaenyra says confidently. “From what we’ve heard, his burns must be dreadful. He will succumb to them, hopefully slowly and with great pain, and in the meantime Aemond and Vhagar will be pinned down in the eastern Crownlands tending to him. And even once Aemond is unincumbered, he will not want to fly into battle against Caraxes and Sheepstealer together. Vhagar is fearsome, but she is old and slow. Aemond is cunning. He knows this.”

“You told Alicent we’d pardon him,” Jace says, and his tone is accusatory. How could you? How dare you?

“I said I’d spare him if he’s still alive when the war is over,” Rhaenyra replies with a sharp glance. “So let’s make sure he isn’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner is sailfish, which you’ve never eaten before. All afternoon you saw them zipping through the water as Alyn of Hull’s ship cruised out of King’s Landing and towards the Gullet, their sapphire dorsal fins cutting up through the surf. Then the crew caught some and hauled them up onto the deck—large bulging eyes, toothless mouths agape as they suffocated in open air—and you watched as the fish were gutted and their scales and organs scrubbed from the planks with seawater that turned rosy with blood. Refuse washed back into the ocean: bones, fins, disembodied eyeballs dragging tails of optic nerves.

Alyn is a bastard of Corlys Velaryon, you’ve gathered; he is young to have been entrusted with his own vessel, and the resemblance is undeniable. He is chivalrous but very strict. You are not permitted in the room where several caged ravens are kept in case Alyn has to send a message back to the capital. You are not permitted to stand too close to the ship’s railing. You are not permitted to handle anything that could be used as a weapon. You are not permitted to converse with the crew. In truth, you are allowed to do almost nothing.

Now you are below deck, you and Jace seated at opposite ends of a long wooden table and alone except for two guards posted by the door. Tall white candles flicker, wobbling in their brass stands as the ship rocks. You drink too much wine and pick at your sailfish, pinkish lumps of meat seasoned with garlic and lemon juice. Jace pushes roasted parsnips and green beans around aimlessly on his plate. You can’t stop thinking of the family you’ve left behind: Mother and Helaena in a dungeon, Jaehaera and Maelor taken hostage by Rhaenyra, Daeron at war in the Reach, Aegon horrifically burned, Aemond and Criston battling to save him.

I shouldn’t be safe while they’re suffering. It’s wrong, it’s treasonous. I’m the least worthy of us. I’ve done nothing to help us win this war. I haven’t saved anyone.

You keep hoping for a vision of what Aemond is doing, what he is feeling, but you’ve never had any control over the glimpses you get into his mind. They are random, and brief, and fragmented. You don’t know if Aegon is still alive. You don’t know if Aemond is thinking of you.

“So that’s why you don’t have a dragon,” Jace says suddenly, and you look up at him, startled. He’s staring at you from beneath the dark curls that have fallen over his face, the mark of House Strong. He’s not entirely unappealing, if you don’t judge him as a Valyrian, an enemy combatant, a traitor. You can’t tell if Jace is being smug or sincere; you barely know him. “Because they hate you.”

Mother’s words resurface in your skull like sailfish dredged up from the waves: If you care for Aemond, as I know you do, you will give him a chance if he and Criston cannot win on the battlefield. You will earn Jace’s affection and convince him to spare us.

You aren’t sure how to earn anybody’s affection. With everyone you’ve known before you either had it or you didn’t, and that never seemed like something you could change.

“It’s not for lack of trying,” you say, fidgeting uneasily with your wine cup. “I tried to claim Vermithor when I was a child. He nearly killed me.”

Jace’s dark eyebrows go up. “Did he? On Dragonstone?”

You nod. “Grandsire arranged for us to visit the island while your family was travelling elsewhere. Driftmark, maybe, I don’t remember. I had always wanted Vermithor, and I felt…I knew that if I found him he would bond to me and let me ride him. I followed him all over Dragonstone for days, but he kept moving, and then…when I finally got close enough…” You’d outrun Criston and the other guards, but Aemond had been there to pull you out of the path of Vermithor’s flames; yet you don’t think Jace will want to hear this. It feels impossible to extricate Aemond from your memories. You’ve never known a life he was not intrinsically entwined with. “The Bronze Fury made his discontentment clear.”

Jace narrows his eyes and gives you an ironic smile, as if he’s thinking: Too bad you lived. “So you gave up.”

“Oh no, I tormented the others too. Silverwing, Grey Ghost, Seasmoke, none of them were very welcoming. I don’t recall Sheepstealer being there at the time…maybe he was feeding elsewhere in the Crownlands. I’d know if I’d seen him before, I think.”

“Sheepstealer is very…unique in appearance.”

You smile at the memory of Grandsire calling him hideous, then go somber when you remember he’s dead. “Grey Ghost was sweet, though. He didn’t attempt to burn me, he just flew away.”

“You’ve tried all of those dragons?” Now Jace seems genuinely intrigued. “Just…one after the other?”

You shrug and swig your wine. Jace gives you a disapproving glance; you put the cup down and begin eating instead. “I wanted a beast for myself. Everyone else had theirs, it seemed inevitable that I would find mine if I searched long enough. I even approached the Cannibal.”

“The Cannibal.” Jace shakes his head and forks sailfish into his mouth; it’s the first bite he’s taken tonight. “You were desperate. Or stupid.”

You smirk. “Or both.”

“What color are his flames? Green, like his eyes?”

“No,” you say softly, remembering the massive black dragon covered in spines like the stalagmites of a cave. “No, the Cannibal’s dragonfire is red.”

“Do you think yourself to be…” Jace gestures vaguely with his fork. “Lacking in some way? Less capable than Helaena or your brothers?”

This is a rude question. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I must be inadequate, or I would have a dragon.”

Jace seems to contemplate this as he eats.

“Why do you ask?” you provoke him, before recalling you’re supposed to be winning his affection, if such a thing is possible, and you very much doubt it. “Are you concerned I’ll pass this fault on to my children?”

“Well, it’s an interest of mine,” Jace says. “Locating dragonriders. What makes someone alluring to the beasts, as well as what doesn’t. This war will be won by dragons, I’m sure each side aspires to have more of them.”

You study him, taking nibbles of your sailfish. Recruiting dragonriders outside of the immediate family is not something Aemond would ever consider; he would not trust them, he would view them as supplanters of the natural order. But a bastard himself… “Was it your idea to find someone to ride Sheepstealer?”

Jace grins, cagey and teasing. He spears green beans with his fork. “I’m not going to tell you that.”

Because I can’t be trusted with the Blacks’ strategies. Just with birthing their heirs. “I didn’t know you had ideas.”

“Yes, well, Mother and Daemon try very hard not to notice them.” He points to your braid with his knife. “Do you wear your hair like that because of Visenya?”

You touch it self-consciously. You’re surprised he noticed. “Yes.”

“She married her brother,” Jace says, and this sounds like an accusation.

“She was also fearless, and dangerous, and she had a dragon.”

“Unlike you.”

“Right.”

Jace chuckles to himself. Now he is certainly being smug. Somewhere out in the night, Vermax is trailing the ship and will reunite with Jace once you’ve docked at Heart’s Home. You keep listening for Vhagar, imagining that Aemond will sense it as you sail near where he and Criston are tending to Aegon at Rook’s Rest, and he will fly to you and torch this ship and bring you home like he’s always promised. But perhaps Aemond is forgetting you. Perhaps he resents that you cannot help him win the war; perhaps he is beginning to hate you. Oblivious, Jace eats his sailfish.

“I had a bat named Sailfish,” you say.

Jace is puzzled. “A bat? Like…?” He makes flapping motions with his hands.

You smile and nod. “I kept bats.”

“Why?”

“Because I enjoyed them,” you say, and again you must stop yourself from mentioning Aemond. He cared for them because I did. “They horrified most people, but the children thought they were adorable. I’d teach them how to hold the bats and feed them bugs and fruit, and Jaehaerys couldn’t stop laughing when they licked honey off his fingers…” Then you shudder and go quiet, because you cannot think of Jaehaerys without seeing his hemorrhaging, headless body in Aegon’s arms.

Jace frowns down at the table. The wooden beams of the ship groan; the candlelight flickers. “Just as Mother and Daemon do not often heed my suggestions,” he says carefully after a while. “They do not share many of their plans with me. I knew nothing of what my stepfather arranged to happen that night. And if I had known, I would not have allowed it.”

I don’t believe you can control Daemon at all, you think. But instead you reply hoarsely: “I’m glad you recognize it for the atrocity that it was.”

“I know I’ve spoken harshly in the past. But if you are truly to be my wife, I wish for us to be in harmony as much as possible. I hope you feel the same way.”

“I do.” You don’t have much of a choice. How can you sleep with a man who hates you, who you hate in equal measure? “And Jace…I didn’t know what was going to happen to Luke or Baela. I had no part in either of their deaths.”

“I can’t…” His voice breaks; he swipes at his dark glistening eyes, like flecks of onyx. “I can’t talk about them.”

You are alarmed. “Jace—”

“Goodnight,” he says as he leaves, already halfway across the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first time you’re together—at your vanity, late for dinner—Aemond doesn’t try to put his fingers inside you, and he doesn’t the second time either, or the third, or even the fourth. And this is just fine as far as you’re concerned, because the way Mother has mentioned the duty of a wife implies that there is a great deal of sacrifice involved for the woman, discomfort, pain, even harm, and what you have with Aemond—despite its many peculiarities—has never been painful, and you don’t want to ruin it. You don’t want to find out what other women mean when they talk about boredom and dread and blood.

Then one day you are in the garden, and you and Helaena are trying to teach the children how to play the game with the animal pieces, but they must not be quite old enough because they won’t listen. Jaehaera pokes Jaehaerys with Helaena’s yellow butterfly, Maelor chomps indifferently on Daeron’s purple shadowcat. You and Helaena laugh and give up the attempt as maids swoop in to corral the children.

“We’ll try again in a few months,” you say. “Perhaps they’ll be more tame by then.”

Helaena begins to gather up the game pieces. “We should ask Aegon to carve new animals for the children. Jaehaerys likes seals…” Then her hands go still and she stares at someone who’s standing behind you.

Before you can turn, Aemond leans down to where you’re kneeling on the cobblestones, grabs your braid, and wraps it around his fist. “Follow me,” he whispers into your ear.

“Why? Where?”

“Follow me,” he says again, more forcefully now. “I’m not asking.” Then he releases you with a rough shove and walks away.

You rise from the cobblestones and go after him, weaving through the paths of the garden, fountains trickling and flowers blooming and bees droning in the air. Aemond glances back to make sure you’re in pursuit, then disappears into an arbor grown over with roses, a tunnel of red blossoms and snagging thorns. Aemond sits on a stone bench that is draped in shadows and hidden from view; no one will see you unless they enter the tunnel. You can hear the distant sound of the ocean waves, and gulls and bluejays and the red-tailed hawks the noblemen hunt with. You take a seat beside Aemond, and immediately he lifts your legs so they rest across his lap, reaches beneath the hem of your maroon gown with his right hand, skims his way up the inside of your thigh as you pretend to fight him, all the while smiling and needing him closer, all your blood and muscles screaming for him, your bones aching like fractures that must be set.

“Look at me,” Aemond commands, catching your jaw in his left hand and holding you still, the transparent blue of his eye fixed on your face, where he reads every line and movement like a dead language, like the High Valyrian almost no one left can understand. “I want to know if I’m hurting you.”

Beneath your gown, his fingers are stroking you, waiting for you to be wet and relaxed enough, parting your lips.

“Are you afraid?” Aemond asks.

“No.” Maybe you should be, but you aren’t.

There is an unfamiliar fullness, strange but not unpleasant, and then when Aemond’s fingers begin to move inside you, you moan softly and close your eyes, breaking the spell. He lets go of your jaw and his palm shifts to cradle the side of your face, to bring you in closer, to hold you against him. And now you know that when he finally takes you, as a husband does a wife, it will be painless; and it will never be something you warn your silver-haired children about with dark resignation in your voice.

“What if they won’t let us marry?” you whisper against the warmth of his throat, dreading this more than anything. You don’t know that Targaryens and their dragons will soon be dying. “What if they send me away to wed some lord in the Reach or the Westerlands or the Vale?”

“Then I’ll find you,” Aemond says. “And I’ll burn down his castle, and I’ll bring you home.”

“You’re a monster,” you purr; but there’s a grin on your lips as he kisses you, something scalding and primordial like magma flowing beneath the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

Heart’s Home is a small grey castle in a vast grey world, the shadows of mountains filling the horizon, the sky overcast and bleak and the air tasting like metal. The last time you were in the Vale was as a girl, when Aemond pushed you into a frigid stream and you caught a chill that almost killed you, and he never apologized but he slept on your floor like a dog so he could be there to climb into bed and hold you when you shivered, and surely that is a greater sort of repentance than two vanishingly small words that anyone could say and perhaps not even mean.

You and Jace disembark from Alyn of Hull’s ship on the banks of where an inland river meets the saltwater of the Narrow Sea. Outside the castle walls, Heart’s Home has a stable and a sizable field, surely green and fertile in the summer, that is surrounded on three sides by a thick forest of coniferous trees. Cawing ravens perch on the branches; a hunting party emerges from the pines accompanied by braying hounds and carrying corpses of foxes to be skinned. You are greeted warmly by Lord Leowyn Corbray—who is tall and ancient, over seventy years old—and his wife Lady Carolei, around fifty and very round, with dark hair and pale skin that the harsh mountain wind rubs pink. While her husband fawns over Jace—“We were so honored by the queen’s request,” “We will ensure that your every need is attended to, Prince Jacaerys”—Lady Carolei Corbray watches you with an amused little smile, as if there are many questions she is impatient to ask you. Then you and your betrothed are ushered into the castle and served mutton pie full of gravy and vegetables, dark bread slathered with butter, blackberry oatcakes for dessert. You drink too much wine, because you know what will happen next. Jace does not reprove you this time; he’s drinking a good amount of ale himself.

The people of the Vale worship the Seven, and for all you know Jace does too, because there is no mention of a Valyrian wedding with fire and blood. Instead you exchange your vows in a tiny sept with plain glass windows and cold slate stones. A weathered, bony septon presides over the ceremony, and Lord Corbray stands in for your dead father. Even if Viserys was still alive, he wouldn’t feel like much less of a stranger. You are covered with a maiden’s cloak of your house—Lady Corbray announces proudly that it was sewn especially for this occasion—but it’s wrong, because they’ve used the old black and red sigil of House Targaryen rather than Aegon’s banner, a golden dragon on a green background. But you suppose it’s fitting because Jace’s cloak isn’t right either, as it depicts the seahorse of House Velaryon rather than the tri-colored flag of House Strong.

At the septon’s direction, Lord Corbray removes your cloak from your shoulders and Jace covers you with his own. And once you’ve exchanged the requisite words and Jace kisses you—him swift and uneasy, you trying not to flinch away—you realize that this is the first time you can remember him touching you. On the journey northward, Jace would sometimes find you pacing the ship’s deck and ask you silted, shallow questions: What kind of weather do you like best? What are your favorite desserts? Do you prefer swimming or horseback riding? What colors do you favor? Your nightly ritual was trying not to discuss your murdered relatives over dinner.

You are put to bed in a grand chamber at the top of one of the castle’s towers. There is a fireplace where logs snap and hiss, and a rug made of a shadowcat’s pelt; a chandelier of lit candles hangs from the ceiling. Through the window, you can see a silvery full moon obscured by clouds. You and Jace—freshly bathed and wearing loose, cotton nightclothes—wait in the quiet once your hosts have left, the blankets pulled up to your waists. All the bedlinens are white, you realize; you don’t think this is by accident.

They want to know if I’m truly a maiden. They want to know if I bleed.

You have no idea if you will or not. Nothing that Aemond has ever done to you has resulted in blood.

I don’t want it to hurt, you think with abrupt panic. You look around for a jar of oil, olive or rose or peppermint, something to help him enter you. You open the drawers of your nightstand and are disappointed to find them empty.

“What are you doing?” Jace asks.

“Nothing.” You can’t explain without revealing you know more than a virgin should.

Jace turns to you. “You really haven’t done this before?”

Your nervousness must be evident. Surely no whore who had already been defiled by her monstrous brother would be sitting here wringing her trembling hands. “No.”

“Okay.” Jace takes a deep breath. He seems resolved to be brave for both of you; that is a husband’s role, after all. “I haven’t either.”

“But you’ve…I mean, you’re a man, it’s different for you. You have experience of some sort, I assume…?” With Baela? With anyone?

Jace blushes and can’t meet your eyes. “I’m not above temptation. We kissed a few times.”

This is not reassuring. “Do you think you’ll be able to…? With me?” The daughter and sister of enemies?

He nods and smiles faintly. “Oh yeah, I think it’ll all work as it should.” Then he looks at you, dark eyes, dark curls, not ugly but not who you’ve ever imagined you would give yourself to. His gaze settles on your braid. “Here,” he says, and then he gently begins to unravel it.

You aren’t sure what to do. You’re not going to hit Jace, or fight him, or shove him or grab him or scratch him, and so you don’t know where you should put your hands. Once your hair is loose, you sink down to the soft feather mattress until you are lying flat on your back. Jace yanks off his shirt and tosses it to the floor, then he leans towards you, gesturing to your nightgown.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“Sure,” you say, and help him pull it off you. Even beneath the blankets, your bare skin feels the chill of the night air, and with the apprehension and fear there is something else too, a longing, a craving that has gone unsatiated. It’s crude to think, but it’s true: you’re used to being fed, and you haven’t been since Aemond went away.

Unexpectedly, Jace’s eyes don’t go to your breasts or lower; instead, they catch on the scar that cuts down from your left collarbone. He touches it with careful, weightless fingerprints. His voice is tender. “What happened here?”

“An assassin’s blade,” you say. “The night Jaehaerys died.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Here—in bed, in the firelight—he is not Rhaenyra’s eldest son and someone you are supposed to hate, someone who is a threat to your life, someone who once played a part in Aemond losing his eye. Here Jace is just a man, and you are naked, and beneath the blankets he is taking off his cotton trousers and then positioning himself between your legs. You are a little wet already, you can feel it, but you know you need more, you know he needs to make you ready with his fingers and his mouth, but Jace isn’t aware of this and you can’t tell him.

You gasp as he starts to push himself inside you, overwhelming burning pressure. “Jace, I’m afraid.”

He stops and looks down at you with seeking, sympathetic eyes. His skin is flushed, his breathing quick. If you could read his face, you’d think it says: What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything. “We can stop.”

“No, just…just please go slowly, okay? Please don’t hurt me.” No more than you have to.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, and then—perhaps because he doesn’t know what else to do—he kisses you, and at first it is formal and unnatural like it was in the sept, but then Jace’s lips begin to move with yours and the kiss glows warm like embers. Your fingers go to his hair—not a Targaryen’s, a Strong’s—and tangle in his curls. His hands explore your breasts, grazing and circling your nipples with his fingertips. You wrap your legs around Jace as his tongue darts into your mouth, wanting this, maybe even wanting him.

Jace thrusts into you, and there is a moment of blinding pain that makes you cry out; and for everything that has been said about Aemond—a monster, a murderer, violent and arrogant and wicked—nothing he has ever done to you has hurt like this. Immediately, Jace moves to pull away, but you stop him. “Don’t.”

He shakes his head. “But you’re hurt—”

You hold his face in your hands to make him listen. “I’m alright, I promise. Just wait here, just give me a moment.”

“Okay,” Jace sighs into your throat that’s damp with perspiration. He kisses you there, tasting your salt, fear that has turned to lust. “Okay, okay…”

Already the pain is fading, and your muscles are relaxing, and you are slick with wetness to ease the razored friction. And it’s nothing like the way Aemond knew how to touch you—you are nowhere near a climax—but still, there is something pleasurable about it, there is something nice about being tangled up with a man this way again.

“Go on,” you tell Jace; and he rests his forehead against yours as he thrusts into you, very slowly, and he’s shaking all over, and between breathless kisses he is moaning, in shock that a feeling this good exists, in mindless ecstasy, and then he spills himself inside you and collapses onto your chest, still kissing you, thanking you, asking if you’re alright. Before you can answer, he throws back the blankets and examines the sheets. When you look down, you can see that between your legs is a stain of pale pink, a miniscule amount of blood.

Is that all? you think, relieved. It wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t so good either, but it was tolerable. And it will get better.

“No, no, no,” Jace murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh. He is distressed, he is repentant. “I wounded you. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll be alright, Jace,” you say, rather amused.

He crawls back to you and lies down beside you on the bed. He is struggling to keep his eyes open. “You weren’t lying. You’ve never done that before.”

“No.”

“I won’t hurt you again.” He kisses your cheek. “My wife. My princess.” And then he rests his head on his pillow and within a minute he is snoring softly.

“My prince,” you whisper, trying it out. It doesn’t feel right yet, but maybe one day it will. You have to clean yourself off; Jace doesn’t know this about women, but you do. You climb out of bed, and Jace stirs as you leave.

“I love you,” he says, like it’s a reflex he’s repeated a thousand times, like it takes no thought at all. You stare bewildered at him. Jace’s eyes are still closed. And you think of Aemond—suddenly, with great clarity, as Jace sleeps in your shared bed—and you will yourself to be able to see where is and what he’s thinking. But there is nothing: only silence and firelight and the full moon hovering in the overcast, indigo sky outside.

Is he thinking of me? Does he feel lost too?

You have the maids draw a hot bath and you wash it all away, the sweat and the blood and the wetness and Jace’s seed that might give you a child with the unruly dark hair of the Strongs, and still you cannot stop thinking of Aemond.

Did he love me then? Does he love me now?

Back in your bedchamber, you gaze into the flames of the fireplace and try to remember the sound of Aemond’s voice, but you can’t. It keeps bleeding into the words of other people: Aegon, Daeron, Maelor, Jace.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #jace x you #jace x reader #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon

88 notes · View notes

seongwars · 13 hours ago

Text

strangers by nature | iii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 4.9K Warnings: just a little angst but we're finally on a lighter, fluffier chapter

Fic Masterlist | Taglist Signup

As you pulled into the parking lot of an unfamiliar apartment complex, Mingi’s ears perked up, his dark, expressive eyes widening with what could only be described as alarm. He’d been unusually fussy this morning, darting away every time you reached out to put his collar on, his little legs scurrying under the grand piano. And when you crouched down to coax him with chicken, he bolted under the couch, telling you that you’d never catch him.

“Maro, guess what! You’re going to have a sleepover with Hetmon!” you announced, patting him gently. The words slipped out with casual enthusiasm, thinking it’d be fun for him to spend a night with someone who’s growing so fond of him.

As a human, Mingi wouldn’t have cared. He would have come and gone as he pleased, slipping through life without a second thought. Back then, you were just a fleeting presence—someone whose affection he had easily shrugged off. He never thought twice about the way you looked at him or how you cared in your own quiet way.

But things were different now.

You had become the one constant in his new world. The way you fussed over him, made sure he was fed, safe, and warm—it was something he hadn’t realized he needed until it was gone. The thought of being without you, even for one night, filled him with a fear he didn’t fully understand. What if you didn’t come back? What if you left him behind for good?

He let out a soft whine, his eyes flicking to you as if trying to convey the thoughts swirling in his mind: Don’t leave me. Not like this. Mingi squirmed under your touch, his soft fur slipping through your fingers as he wiggled in his seat. His gaze darted to the complex in front of you, his ears twitching at every sound, the unfamiliarity of it all clearly overwhelming.

When you opened the car door, he hesitated, his small paws stiff against your hands as you gently lifted him from the seat. Holding him close, you pressed your cheek into his soft fur.

“It’s going to be alright,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the ache tightening in your chest. “I’m going to miss you.”

With every step up to Yeosang’s door, Mingi clung to you, his gaze darting between you and the unfamiliar entryway. When Yeosang opened the door, his gentle smile eased some of the tension. Kneeling down to greet Mingi, Yeosang reached out, offering a reassuring presence to the uneasy figure in your arms.

"Hey, Maro! We’re going to have so much fun! I know Hetmon can’t wait to play with you! We have tons of treats and toys, and we can stay up as late as we want!”

Mingi burrowed deeper into your hold, his nose pressing against the crook of your arm as though trying to shield himself from the unfamiliarity of the moment. You could feel his heart racing, a rhythm that matched your own.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. He didn’t pull away this time, but the tremble in his little body didn’t fade.

"I love you," you whispered gently, feeling the words catch in your throat. "I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Mingi blinked up at you, momentarily pulled from his anxious thoughts. You love me? The words settled over him, unexpected and profound. His tail gave a faint wag before drooping again.

There was something almost unbearable about the way you said it—so soft, so certain. As if he mattered. As if he was worth loving. He wanted to cling to his anger, to the bitterness he’d nurtured, to all the reasons he convinced himself to hate you. It was safer that way.

But in this moment, with your arms around him, his resolve began to falter under the quiet strength of your love. A lump formed in his throat as he let himself feel the ache of wanting to believe you. Slowly, he pressed himself into your chest, seeking refuge in your scent, in the fragile, fleeting comfort of your presence.

“Have fun, okay? I'll be back before you know it',” you promised, setting him down after one last hug.

Mingi wanted to believe you—to believe that you’d come back, that this wasn’t just another moment where he’d be left behind. But the fear was louder, whispering cruelly that once you were gone, you might never return.

When the door finally clicked shut behind you, an ache settled in his chest. He wanted to hate you for leaving him, for making him feel so vulnerable, so helplessly tethered to you. Anger and resentment would have been easier to bear than the raw, twisting pain inside him.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you held him—the way your arms had felt so steady, the way your lips had pressed gently to his head. And those words. I love you.

Did you mean them? Could they be real? Did he even deserve them?

As he was left to contemplate on his own, Hetmon plopped down with a soft thud, his large frame settling next to Mingi’s much smaller one. The doberman nudged him gently with his snout, his warm brown eyes filled with quiet sympathy.

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Hetmon said quietly. “It’s scary at first but then you get lots of snacks and snuggles! And I have lots of toys you can play with!”

But Mingi barely reacted, his tiny body stiff and unmoving, his gaze fixed on the door as though sheer willpower could bring you back. The sound of your footsteps fading down the hall felt like an unbearable loss, each step tugging at a string inside him he hadn’t even known was there.

“Maro,” Yeosang said gently. His voice was soothing, though it didn’t carry the same comfort yours did. “Why don’t we go into the living room? It’s more comfortable there.”

Mingi sprawled on the floor in his fluffy, sulking form, letting out a deep, reluctant sigh. His big puppy eyes darted toward Hetmon and then to Yeosang, filled with quiet resignation.

Yeosang didn’t push him, simply standing back and letting the puppy sulk in his own time. As a human, Mingi had always been used to getting his way. Pampered and spoiled, he’d rarely had to ask for what he wanted—everything had been handed to him, either out of obligation or fear of his temper. People didn’t treat him with kindness because they cared; they catered to him because it was easier than dealing with his tantrums.

But Yeosang and Hetmon were different–they were giving him something he didn’t quite know how to handle: genuine care and patience. They didn’t push, didn’t try to force him into compliance. It wasn’t about control or convenience—it was about seeing him, even when he was at his most vulnerable.

Yeosang exchanged a look with Hetmon, as if the two were silently agreeing on what to do next.

“Alright, let’s make this space cozy,” Yeosang said, his tone gentle but upbeat. “Something just for you and Hetmon.

Curious but still sulking, Mingi tilted his head as the living room was a flurry of motion. Yeosang draped blankets over the back of the couch and anchored them with cushions, creating a cozy little den. Hetmon grabbed a toy, carrying it over and dropping it right next to Mingi with a proud wag of his tail.

“There we go,” Yeosang said, standing back to admire the setup. The blanket fort was simple but warm, with soft lighting spilling through the gaps. He knelt down, peeking inside.

“What do you think, Maro? A place just for you and Hetmon.”

Mingi hesitated, his small paws inching forward as he sniffed cautiously at the fort. The structure, carefully built, carried faint traces of Yeosang and Hetmon’s familiar scents. Pausing at the entrance, his big, round eyes scanned the space nervously before retreating slightly, his posture low to the floor.

Yeosang settled beside the fort, keeping a respectful distance as he offered a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay, Maro,” he said gently. “I promise we’ll take good care of you until Y/N comes back.”

⋆

You lay on the couch in the private suite, staring blankly at the ceiling as the low hum of the machines filled the silence. Your gaze drifted instinctively to Mingi, his frail form nestled amidst a series of wires and tubes. His chest rose and fell in steady intervals, yet the sight brought little comfort. He seemed so small, so fragile, swallowed by the sterile hospital bedding and the weight of his condition.

A shaky breath escaped you, uneven and strained in the stillness of the room. Part of you yearned to reach out, despite knowing he wouldn’t feel it. But the other part held you back, paralyzed by the thought that crossing that line would tear apart the fragile distance that had shielded you for so long.

Instead, you let yourself collapse further into the sofa, its cushions swallowing you whole. Your body sagged under the weight of exhaustion and grief, the kind that lingered in the pit of your stomach, making it hard to breathe.

“Hey,” you murmured softly, the word catching in your throat as though it could break the suffocating silence in the room. Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, hoarse and uncertain, but the need to fill the stillness outweighed your discomfort.

“Do you dream of anything?” you asked quietly, your gaze flicking to his still form. “I mean, I hope it’s something good. Something better than this.”

Your fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket draped over you, the repetitive motion grounding you just enough to keep going.

“You know, I read somewhere that people in comas can hear things. I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, you’re probably thinking, Why won’t Y/N shut up?” You let out a shaky laugh, the sound bitter, more like a defense mechanism than actual amusement.

You shifted again, resting your head against the arm of the sofa, your gaze never leaving him. "Oh, uh, I got a dog," you said, the words coming out almost hesitant, like a confession.

"I found him outside of the hospital at 5 AM. It was after you were brought into the ICU. His name’s Maro. Cutest little thing ever. He’s really fluffy, kind of like a Pomeranian, except he has one floppy ear."

The corners of your mouth twitched into the faintest smile at the memory, but it disappeared just as quickly. Had he always seemed this small? Or was it the weight of his vulnerability now that forced you to see him differently?

You clenched your fists, willing yourself not to cry. Was it pity, guilt, or something else entirely? You weren’t sure if you were mourning the man you never got to know—or the one you never had the chance to leave behind.

"What am I doing?" you sighed to yourself, the words escaping in a combination of frustration and sadness.

You were talking to him. Hoping, somehow, that he could hear you. That even in the liminal space between life and the unknown, he might sense your presence. That he might know, even if you’d been so far apart in life, you weren’t going to leave him alone in this.

“I hate hospitals,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly as you glanced at the stark white walls.

“And now here I am again. Back in a place I never wanted to see again. And you’re the one lying there, hooked up to machines.” Your voice caught, and you swallowed hard, fighting the lump rising in your throat.

“And I hate it just as much as I did back then. Maybe more.”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands as you fidgeted with your sleeves. “I talked to your mom,” you began softly, your voice heavy with unspoken frustration.

“I tried to convince your parents to take turns staying overnight,” you continued, your voice cracking slightly.

“I thought maybe...maybe it’d be an opportunity to bring you closer together. That this—” you gestured faintly to the machines, “—would wake them up. But it’s like...nothing’s changed.”

The room fell silent again, save for the steady, monotonous beeping of the machines, a sound that felt almost mocking in its rhythm. You looked at Mingi’s face, so peaceful it made your chest ache. It felt unfair—like the calm didn’t belong here, not with everything unsaid hanging in the air.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat.

“They don’t deserve you, Mingi. I just...I just wanted them to see you. Really see you. Not the version of you they’ve made up in their heads.” You exhaled shakily, your gaze dropping again to your hands.

“You’re more than that. You’re just Mingi,” you said quietly. “And that’s enough. You’re enough.”

Your words drifted into the stillness of the room, fading into the hum of the machines. You pulled the thin hospital blanket closer, wrapping it tightly around yourself like a fragile shield against the cold. Closing your eyes, you told yourself you wouldn’t sleep—but the weight of exhaustion crept in, relentless and unyielding, until it finally pulled you under.

And in the quiet of your dreams, it felt as if he were also reaching out for you too.

Mingi laid on his belly, eyes fixed on the front door, refusing to move. After dinner, despite Yeosang arranging a cozy pile of blankets by the couch and Hetmon checking in persistently, Mingi remained rooted in place.

Hetmon was fast asleep in the blanket fort, while Yeosang lay stretched out on the floor next to it, his head propped up on one arm. The faint glow of the moonlight spilled through the curtains, bathing the room in silvery light.

"You must really love Y/N," Yeosang observed quietly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He turned his gaze toward Mingi, who sat a short distance away.

Mingi had never waited for you before, not like this. He had never looked forward to your presence, never longed to see your smile or hear your voice. But his heart ached in a way that he couldn’t explain. He could barely remember the last time he’d truly listened when you spoke to him, let alone considered that you might see something in him worth loving.

What could you possibly love about him? The man he had been was callous, dismissive, too caught up in his own bitterness to care about the hurt he caused. But you didn’t deserve any of it. He had been too proud, too angry to see that then.

But now, stripped of his humanity, stripped of his defenses, Mingi saw everything clearly. No walls to hide behind, no excuses to shield him from the truth. He couldn’t help but wonder whether it was too late to try and make things right.

Yeosang offered him a small smile, the kind that was patient and unwavering.

“Y/N loves you so much. You’ve become her whole world, even if you don’t realize it.”

Mingi’s ears flicked at the words, a pang resonating deep in his chest.

“Honestly,” Yeosang continued, “I’ve never seen anyone dote on a dog the way she does you. She keeps saying you’re special, you know? That you’re not like other dogs. And the way she looks at you—it’s like you’ve hung the moon.” He chuckled softly, his expression tender.

“I don’t think she’s wrong, though. There’s something about you.”

Mingi’s ears twitched again, and his eyes slid closed as a wave of bittersweet warmth washed over him. Yeosang had no idea how close to the truth he was. He didn’t know that the little dog lying here was the same Mingi who had spent years pushing you away, too afraid to let you in.

The weight of those thoughts grew unbearable, and Mingi slowly got to his feet, his small frame shivering slightly. He padded softly toward the pillow fort, and didn’t hesitate as he nudged his way inside, his nose brushing against Hetmon’s side.

“Hey,” Mingi murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he crouched next to Hetmon. “You’re a good listener, right?”

Hetmon perked up immediately, tail wagging in eager agreement. “The best listener! Try me!” he chirped, his eyes bright and inviting.

“Remember when I told you…that I got turned into a dog because I did some…bad things? And you said you’d help?”

Hetmon tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he let out a quiet, supportive huff. The playful glint usually present in his gaze gave way to something warmer, deeper—a promise that he was here.

Mingi swallowed hard, his ears lowering as his voice faltered. “Well I need your help…listening. I—I don’t even know where to start. I just…” His words trailed off, and he stared down at his paws as though they held the answers he was too afraid to find.

“I…I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want Y/N to leave me here, I want her to come back. I think…because I’m always used to being left behind.”

His gaze dropped, as if the weight of his words were too heavy to carry for his little form. “When I was a kid, my parents weren’t around much. My dad worked all the time, and my mom…she didn’t know what to do with me. I wasn’t easy—loud, stubborn. I broke rules just to see if they’d notice. And when they did, it was only because I made them look bad. That was the only time I felt…seen.”

Hetmon nudged closer, his nose pressing gently against Mingi’s side in quiet support.

“I just wanted their attention,” Mingi whispered. “For them to be proud of me, to love me for something good. But it never felt like enough. I only existed to them when I was a problem. Whatever it took to remind them I was there. And eventually, it wasn’t an act anymore. I just…became that person.”

“I wanted everything on my terms. Most people just gave me what I wanted because it was easier than dealing with me.” He paused, the next words catching in his throat before spilling out.

“Except for the engagement.”

He glanced away, unable to meet Hetmon’s gaze. “I accepted it because I thought it would make my parents proud,” he admitted quietly.

“I thought if I did this one big thing, if I played the role they wanted me to, I’d finally be enough for them. But it wasn’t what I wanted—it was never what I wanted.”

“I thought it would earn their approval, but all I did was hurt everyone—especially Y/N.”

Mingi curled in on himself, his nails digging into the cushion as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I made her life miserable because it was easier than letting her in. I couldn't be vulnerable with her.”

“She was the only one who ever stood up to me. And that scared me. Not because she made me feel small, but because…” His voice faltered. “Because she made me feel like I wasn’t in control. Like she could see the real me. Some spoiled kid desperate for someone to care.”

He stared down at his paws, uncertainty clouding his gaze. The enormity of his mistakes felt insurmountable. Would you even want to hear him out? Could he find the right words to make you understand how sorry he was?

He thought about the way you cared for him—not just the way you fed him or ensured he was comfortable, but the way you spoke to him softly, as if he were the most important thing in the world. The way your eyes lit up with genuine affection every time you saw him. You loved freely, without conditions or reservations, and he saw it in every small act, every moment you cared for him. It wasn’t just something he noticed once—it was unyielding.

And it made him realize just how deeply he’d failed you.

“I don’t know what it’ll take to turn back,” he murmured, “but I know I have to fix things. I owe her that much.”

For a moment, Hetmon didn’t move, as if processing the words. Then, with a cheerful wag of his tail, he shuffled closer, his dark eyes warm with encouragement.

“I’m glad you told me all that!” Hetmon chirped, his voice bright and unburdened. “It means we’re friends now, right? Real friends!”

Mingi blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of Hetmon’s declaration. He turned to look at him, his tail swishing lightly against the floor as Hetmon beamed up at him.

“Yeah…I guess we are,” he replied softly with a small smile.

“I don’t really know what ‘vulnerable’ means,” Hetmon admitted, his head tilting curiously, “but it sounds like sharing your favorite toy with someone, even if you don’t really want to! Because… you’re nice!”

A quiet chuckle escaped Mingi, and for the first time in a long while, the heavy knot in his chest loosened. “Yeah,” he said, his voice lighter, “it’s kind of like that.”

“Well, I’ll always share my toys with you,” Hetmon said, his tail wagging faintly. He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully before continuing, “Maybe you should share your toys with Y/N. You know, to show her how much you care.”

Mingi blinked, startled by the simplicity of the suggestion, but the earnestness in Hetmon’s voice made something inside him soften.

“We’re gonna go to the park tomorrow, so we need to save our energy to play chase… and maybe fetch too. Gotta make sure we’re ready. And then…” He trailed off for a moment, his breathing slowing as though on the verge of sleep, before murmuring, “And then we can think of ways to help make you human again.”

Mingi glanced up at the dog pressed against him. He’d never thought much about companionship before, but Hetmon’s unwavering optimism and warmth chipped away at the walls he’d built around himself.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’d like that too.”

Unbeknownst to Mingi and Hetmon, Yeosang sat quietly outside the fort. The sight of them—Hetmon nestled snugly against Mingi, both looking so peaceful brought a smile to his lips and a sense of relief. Maro was finally settling in. With a soft click, he snapped a photo, capturing the unexpected tranquility of the moment before shooting you a quick text.

“How do you know when you’re done with a task?” Hetmon asked, as his long legs carried him easily down the path to the dog park. The sleek doberman slowed his pace so Mingi could keep up.

“I don’t know,” Mingi muttered, his fluffy tail wagging in uncertainty. “Maybe… when it feels right?”

“That’s not an answer! What does ‘feels right’ even mean? Like when your belly’s full after eating?”

“Well…no. There’s something about my transformation that I didn’t tell you about. There was a man…he referred to himself as The Judge. I think I have to find him.”

Hetmon tilted his head curiously, moving gracefully beside Mingi. “Like an adventure? Are we going on a really long walk?” His tail wagged once, and he nudged Mingi playfully.

“What’s a judge, anyway?”

Mingi let out an exaggerated huff, his fluffy body bouncing slightly as Yeosang unleashed him. “A judge is, like…someone who decides stuff. Big stuff. Like who’s right, who’s wrong, and what happens next.”

“Oh, like my dad?”

“Not exactly.” Mingi frowned, struggling to explain. “A judge is about…being fair.” He paused, his small ears twitching as dogs of all shapes and sizes zoomed past. Mingi barely noticed them, lost in thought.

“The Judge decides if you’ve been bad or good,” he said, his tone growing quieter. “And if you deserve a second chance.”

Hetmon slowed his pace, glancing down at Mingi as they weaved through a bustling cluster of dogs sniffing at a water fountain. “So, what does he do if you don’t?”

Mingi froze, his fluffy tail stiffening as the unsettling atmosphere settled around them. The playful barks and chatter of the park faded, replaced by an eerie silence that made his hackles stand. Hetmon’s sharp ears swiveled forward, his nose twitching as he scanned their surroundings.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice lowering to a cautious rumble.

Before Mingi could respond, a new presence entered their field of vision. A black cat perched atop a nearby bench, its eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity. It was a small thing, lithe and elegant, yet its presence carried an almost tangible weight. Its tail swished lazily, but there was nothing casual about the way it stared at them.

“Surprised to see me, Maro?” the cat purred, its voice smooth and taunting as it stretched languidly. Without breaking eye contact, it hopped down from the bench with a graceful leap and began to saunter toward them, its paws making no sound against the ground.

“You’re looking...lighter. Did someone have a little emotional breakthrough last night?”

Mingi’s ears flattened against his head, and his nose scrunched in irritation. “Who are you?”

Hetmon’s tail wagged excitedly, oblivious to the tension. “Hey, it’s a cat! Are you here to play too?”

The black cat let out a soft laugh, the sound equal parts amusement and condescension. “Oh, I’m always here to play,” it said, its tone dripping with mock sincerity. Its piercing eyes slid back to Mingi, a playful glint in them.

“But I don’t expect you to remember me in this form. You know, considering the state you were in last time we spoke.”

Mingi blinked, confusion spreading across his puppy face as he studied the cat more closely, trying to make sense of the situation. “The last time?” He squinted, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air, piecing the puzzle together.

“You’re the Judge.”

“In the flesh,” Wooyoung said, with an exaggerated bow. “Though, this is only one of the many forms I can take.”

“Why are you here?” Mingi growled, his nerves beginning to fray. There was something unnervingly calm about the cat’s presence.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Wooyoung replied casually, his voice light but carrying an underlying warmth. “And I couldn’t resist seeing how our dear Maro is holding up. Word is, someone’s been dabbling in a bit of self-reflection.”

He circled Mingi, his movements more curious than menacing. Mingi, however, wasn’t taking any chances. He scowled, puffing up his hackles instinctively, his narrowed eyes following Wooyoung’s every move.

“Imagine my shock when I heard whispers about you sharing your feelings and letting others in.”

Mingi’s fluffy tail gave an involuntary twitch, and his ears flattened against his head. If dogs could blush, he would’ve been beet red. “And what about it?” he barked, his voice rising in embarrassed frustration.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Wooyoung teased, his grin spreading wide and sharp, though his eyes sparkled with something closer to amusement than malice. “It’s adorable, really.”

Hetmon, ever the optimist, wagged his tail harder. “Sounds like you’re doing great! Even the kitty thinks so.”

“But I give credit where it’s due,” Wooyoung said, pausing mid-step to preen his face.

“You completed your first task, and it looks good on you. Dare I say, you might actually be growing as a person.” He let the compliment linger before flicking his gaze to Mingi’s fluffy form. “Or… dog. Whatever.”

“Uh… thanks, I guess?” Mingi muttered, his defensive posture softening slightly, though his tail still twitched with lingering unease.

“Don’t let it go to your head, fluffball,” he said, his grin returning, but now it was less sharp, almost fond. “You’ve still got a ways to go. But…” He tilted his head, his golden eyes glinting in the soft light.

“I suppose I’ll be watching with mild interest.”

For all of Wooyoung’s teasing, there was an odd comfort in the knowledge that someone—however mischievous—was paying attention to his journey.

“Maro!”

Mingi’s ears perked up instantly, his heart leaping at the sound of your voice. His head whipped around, and there you were, jogging toward him, grinning ear to ear. He didn’t think—he just bolted toward you, his excitement erupting in a series of joyous barks that echoed through the park.

Before you could even brace yourself, he launched himself into your arms. You stumbled slightly under the force of his leap, but your laughter bubbled out, ruffling his furn in that perfect way that always made him melt.

“I missed you so much!” you said, your voice warm and full of affection. You leaned your cheek against his head, holding him like you never wanted to let go.

“Looks like you had fun while I was gone.”

Fun? Sure, the dog park was fine. Hetmon was great. Even the bizarre encounter with Wooyoung had been…something. But none of it compared to this. None of it compared to you.

Mingi leaned his fluffy body into you, letting out a soft whine as his eyes closed. Your touch, your voice, your laugh—it was everything he didn’t know he needed until now. He’d missed you more than he could say, more than this form would allow him to show.

His mind wandered, as it often did, to a future where he wasn’t just a dog but himself again. Would you see him differently? Would you understand how much he cared, how much he’d changed? Would you give him a chance?

Maybe, just maybe, you’d look at him the way you did now—with a warmth that made him feel like the center of your world. The thought sent a spark of hope blooming in his chest, as bright and fragile as the first rays of sunlight after a storm.

Your arms tightened around him slightly, pulling him back to the present. And for now, that was enough. Mingi let out a soft, contented huff, nuzzling into you as if to say, I missed you, too.

“What’s gotten into you?” you teased.

Yeosang trotted over with Hetmon by his side. “He was a champ while you were gone,” he said, “but I think someone’s been counting the minutes until you came back.”

You laughed again, running your hand over Mingi’s head as he leaned into your touch. “Is that true, Maro? Were you waiting for me?”

Mingi barked softly in response, his tail wagging furiously now. In this moment, everything felt perfect. There was so much he wanted to say, words that his current form couldn’t fully express. But he would wait. He would wait for you, no matter how long it took.

<< ii | iv >>

taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1

@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

@desi2go @beabatiny @sangilov-r @roomsofangel @symmieangela

@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8

@yoonrixx @jean-swolo @silent-potato @jiwoongsblondehair @sanriomilk

@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills

#song mingi #cromernet #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #arranged marriage au #ateez #mingi x you #ateez fic #mingi angst #ateez angst #enemies to lovers #strangers to lovers

73 notes · View notes

eiluned · 3 days ago

Text

Sweet Little Death (Lucanis/Rook; explicit)

by eiluned

Read it on AO3

Info: Explicit, Lucanis/Rook, no Veilguard spoilers, set after the romance soft lock scene. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED.

Summary: There was only one bed. Clearly Lucanis can’t share it with Rook without losing what’s left of his sanity.

Notes: Thank you to Amanda for coming up with the idea even though she hasn’t played Veilguard yet and has just been on the business end of my hyperfixation firehose. And enormous thanks to Amanda and Trina for beta reading!

Please enjoy the fruits of my 1 am writing binge. Feedback makes me happy. <3

There was only one unused guest room in the House of Valor, at least according to Isabela, but they were welcome to it.

Lucanis made sure his expression was set to stony-faced acceptance and followed Rook as she led him through the warren of hallways. Taash had decided to stay with their mother, and hopefully that wouldn’t end in her house going up in a blaze of dragon fire. But sharing a room with Rook was the more pressing concern in his mind.

“Here it is,” she said, unlocking a rather nondescript door and pushing it open.

The only guest room available in the House of Valor had only one bed.

They both stood in the doorway for an awkward moment, Rook blushing slightly and Lucanis trying to tamp down a vague sense of panic at the sleeping arrangements. “Well,” Rook finally said, stepping into the room, “This is cozy?”

The room was perfectly fine, cozy even, but the fact of the matter was still that it had one bed. Just one. And clearly they couldn’t share it without Lucanis losing what was left of his sanity.

“You take the bed,” he said, closing and bolting the door behind himself. “I’ll sleep on the…”

He looked around to see a small table, two very straight-backed wooden chairs and very little else in the way of furniture.

“The floor?” Rook said skeptically, dropping her pack beside the door. “The cold stone floor? Lucanis, don’t be ridiculous. You look dead on your feet; you need to sleep. We can share the bed.”

His stomach swooped at the thought, and he felt Spite’s interest stir. “No, the floor is fine,” he said a little too quickly, and Rook cocked an eyebrow at him, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “Or the chair,” he added a bit lamely.

Rook looked from the bed to the chair to the floor and then back to him before shaking her head. “Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging and starting to remove her armor.

Someone dropped off food and ale, and they ate in a silence which was only slightly awkward. It was already late, and it had been a long day fighting Antaam on the beaches. Rook stretched, raising her arms and arching her back in a way that made her shirt stretch enticingly over her breasts.

“YES YES,” Spite rasped in the back of his mind, and Lucanis made an effort to stare at the table until her stretch was done.

“Fuck, I’m exhausted,” she said, hauling herself to her feet. “I’m going to turn in. When the chair or the floor or whatever gets too uncomfortable, just nudge me over and take your half of the bed.”

There was absolutely nothing sexual in what Rook had said, but Lucanis’s mind immediately went to skin against skin, his arms around her and her legs around him, the scent of her overwhelming his senses. He stared very hard at the table, gripping his fork so hard he thought he might bend it, as Spite started up a litany of all of the dirty things he wanted to do to Rook.

“You all right?”

He jumped at her question and found her giving him a look of concern. “I’m fine,” he replied, making an effort to relax his posture. “Spite is acting up.”

Rook gave him a little smile that made his stomach flip. “Tell him I said to behave,” she said, climbing into the bed. “Wake me if disaster strikes.”

She fell asleep quickly, leaving Lucanis to awkwardly move the chairs around so he could prop up his feet and attempt to sleep. It was a little ridiculous, how awkward he felt around Rook. He was never awkward; he strove to be cool and collected no matter the circumstances, but Rook… She was beautiful, yes, but also clever and funny and kind, to everyone but especially to him. He was used to being treated with deference or wariness or fear, but not kindness.

And he wasn’t entirely sure what to say in response to her flirty little comments. He wanted to kiss her, to be completely honest with himself, but they hadn’t discussed their near-kiss in the pantry since it happened. He just assumed he had fucked that up and resolved to pretend it hadn’t happened.

Of course, pretending didn’t keep him from wanting her so badly it made his body ache.

Scowling at himself, he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the chair back digging into his shoulder blades.

It took two hours of uncomfortable dozing for Lucanis to give up.

Rook was right; he was painfully tired after too many nights of hardly any sleep, and he would be useless in the morning if he didn’t get some decent rest. Sighing in frustration, he got to his feet and went to stand beside the bed.

It was wider than his cot in the pantry, but it certainly didn’t seem to have been built with two sleepers in mind. Rook was curled up on her side close to the far edge, and there seemed to be enough blanket for the two of them. Lucanis was a compact man, but he still wasn’t sure there was enough room in that bed for them to sleep without touching. And touching seemed… dangerous.

“TOUCH HER. WANT. TO FEEL,” Spite hissed in his head.

“Shut up,” he muttered back, lifting the blanket so he could slide under it.

The bed was made of a net of ropes tied to the frame with a mattress on top, and when he settled his weight in, everything rolled toward the middle. Rook murmured in her sleep as her body shifted, and Lucanis froze for a second, hoping she wouldn’t wake. When she didn’t, he grabbed the edge of the frame and hauled himself over, making sure no part of his body was touching hers.

“TOUCH HER. COWARD.”

He ignored the demon in his head and closed his eyes, sinking swiftly into sleep.

It was the best sleep he’d had in as long as he could remember. He was remarkably settled, with no nightmares that lingered.

He slowly came awake, breathing in a sweet scent, warm and comfortable, and he thought for a second about just falling back asleep and staying there as long as he could.

“SMELLS GOOD,”Spite purred in his ear. “SO WARM.”

Awareness shot through Lucanis like a lightning bolt. He and Rook had somehow rolled together during the night, and he was currently spooned up against her back. Her body was tucked against his from head to toe with his arm slung around her waist, and to his utter mortification, his groin was firmly pressed against her ass, his cock hard as a rock.

“STAY,” Spite hissed, looming over him. “TOUCH HER.”

Lucanis didn’t dare answer his demon for fear he’d wake Rook. And he did want to touch her, to keep touching her like this. It was intoxicating, the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her hair in his nose, the heat of their bodies mingling through the layers of their clothing.

But it was definitely not right to be this close to grinding his erection against her, not while she was sleeping, and despite Spite’s protests, he started to slowly disengage. But Rook sighed and caught his wrist in her hand, pulling his arm more tightly around her. He froze, and she sighed again, wiggling a little as if trying to get closer to him.

“I can tell you’re awake,” she murmured, and he could feel her chuckle when he jumped in surprise. “You don’t have to move. If you don’t want to, I mean.”

He sucked in a somewhat shaky breath, which was a mistake as it filled his nose even more fully with her scent. “Mierda,” he groaned, pressing his face into her hair. “This is a bad idea.”

Rook’s hand snaked back to his hip, her fingers digging in as she pushed herself more firmly against his body. “Doesn’t feel bad to me,” she said, and he could hear the smirk in her voice.

“You are going to kill me.”

“Mm, but won’t it be a sweet little death?”

Brushing her hair out of the way, he pressed his lips against the nape of her neck, tongue darting out to taste her. It was her turn to gasp, her grip on him tightening as she rolled her hips against his. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, propping himself up on his elbow so he could better pepper kisses across her skin to the tender spot just below her ear.

“NO. DON’T STOP,” Spite growled, but Lucanis pushed him to the back of his mind.

“Don’t stop,” Rook moaned, arching in to him, echoing Spite even though she couldn’t have heard him.

Lucanis was utterly lost. His objections, no matter how logical they may have been before he was in bed with Rook, vanished into nothingness. He wanted her so desperately, and she wanted him, something that still baffled him. But she was there, in his arms, pressed against him, wanting him, and the why didn’t matter anymore.

Twisting in his arms, Rook pressed her lips to his, her hand sinking into his hair, and oh, was he thoroughly lost.

He kissed her hungrily, and she met him with enthusiasm, tilting her head to let him kiss her more deeply, hooking her leg over his hip. She arched against him when he slid his hand under her shirt and over the soft skin of her stomach, up to cup her breast.

“Yes,” she breathed against his lips, whimpering when he rubbed his thumb across her hard nipple.

Her own hands were busy unbuttoning his shirt, and he stopped touching her just long enough to yank it off his arms and toss it to the floor while she whipped hers over her head, leaving her hair wild around her face. The oil lamp he’d forgotten to extinguish gave off enough light for him to see that her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated, and he didn’t think he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life.

She pressed herself against him again, kissing him deeply, her hands roaming over his bare chest and down to the waistband of his trousers. Her pants and underwear slipped down over her hips easily, and she kicked them off, somehow managing to unfasten his trousers at the same time.

His pants hit the floor, and then they were gloriously naked, skin pressed against hot skin. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips, pulling him on top of her, and Maker, she really was going to be the death of him.

Lucanis trailed a series of sucking kisses across her jaw and down her neck, enjoying the way she shivered underneath him when he brushed his beard against her skin. She arched when he licked at one nipple, her legs tightening around his ribs, and oh, that was a nice reaction. Closing his lips around the stiff nub, he suckled at her, and that reaction was even better; she writhed against him, her breath coming in quick gasps.

Switching to the other breast, he gave it the same treatment and groaned as she sank her hands into his hair, her fingernails grazing his scalp deliciously. “L-Lucanis,” she whimpered, shuddering when he tugged at her nipple gently with his teeth. “Please…”

“TASTES GOOD,” Spite rasped inside his head. “SO GOOD. WANT TO. FUCK HER.”

The shared thought made his cock throb, but he didn’t want to rush into that just yet. “I want to taste you,” he purred, lifting up enough to kiss her mouth deeply again. “Can I taste you?”

“I will murder you if you don’t,” Rook replied with a breathless laugh, and he grinned at her as he slid down her body.

There wasn’t enough room on the bed, so he slipped off to kneel on the floor and pulled her toward him so that her hips were right at the edge. She opened her legs eagerly for him, and he let his eyes feast on the sight of her spread open for him, her folds glistening with wetness in the lamplight. Propping herself up on her elbows, she met his eyes, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, and holding her gaze, he dipped his head and slowly licked up the line of her cunt.

He was admittedly not experienced with this sort of thing. His only real sexual experience had been a few fumbling attempts years before, and after that he had been just too busy or focused or…

“AFRAID,” Spite added helpfully, and Lucanis swore silently at the demon.

But inexperience be damned, Lucanis was observant, his attention to detail superb, his instincts finely honed. And he had read a ridiculous number of rather explicit romances, so he thought he had a good idea of what he needed to do.

Using his thumbs to gently part her folds, he licked her again, dipping his tongue inside of her, and Rook collapsed onto her back, crying out as he dragged his tongue up to lap at her swollen pearl.

His finely honed instincts told him to keep doing that.

In seconds, her body had tensed like a bowstring, her heels pushing against the bedframe, her hands coming down to fist in his hair in an effort to keep him where she clearly wanted him to be. With a hum of pleasure at the taste of her, he closed his lips around her pearl, sucking gently. She cried out again, her hips coming off of the mattress, and he grabbed her ass with both hands, holding her against his mouth so he could devour her.

“DELICIOUS. TART HONEY,” Spite rumbled, and for once, Lucanis was in complete agreement with his demon; Rook was the best thing he had ever tasted.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair, her body shaking as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub. “Please don’t stop, Lucanis, please…”

Looking up her body, he met her eyes, and wildly, that seemed to be what pushed her over the edge. She shuddered hard, her thighs tightening almost painfully around his head, and he sucked at her as she came against his tongue.

It was so good that he nearly came, even without a touch.

Her thighs eventually slacked and she released his hair, squirming away from his mouth with a breathless laugh. “Stop, stop,” she gasped, pushing herself back up onto her elbows. “It’s too much, too good.”

Taking a few deep breaths to get himself under control, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her inner thigh, enjoying the way she sighed, her eyes slipping shut for a second. They opened again when he climbed onto the mattress, catching her under her arms to pull her back up to the head of the bed, and she smiled up at him lazily. She was soft and pliant under his touch, her thighs parting again so he could settle between them, and she pulled him down into a kiss that took his breath away.

His cock strained away from his body, and when she hooked her heels around the backs of his thighs, it pressed against the slick heat of her cunt. Oh, he wasn’t going to last long, and he hoped he didn’t embarrass himself too badly.

“Are you ready?” he asked breathlessly.

“If you’re not inside of me in the next five seconds—” she began.

He laughed and pushed steadily into the wet, gripping heat of her.

“—oh fuck,” she finished, the word drawn out on a moan.

When he was buried to the hilt, he had to stay perfectly still for a moment. He had never imagined it would feel so incredible to be inside of her, and he really was going to embarrass himself if he couldn’t get himself under control.

“TIGHT AND HOT. AND GOOD. SO GOOD,” Spite rasped, and Lucanis buried his face in Rook’s hair, gasping when she hitched her legs a little higher on his hips.

Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him down onto her fully, and that contact nearly did him in. “Be still, mi tesoro,” he rumbled, his heart pounding in his ears.

Thankfully she mostly obeyed, just tightening her arms around him. Nuzzling his jaw, she pressed her face against the side of his neck, her own breath stuttering into her lungs as they adjusted to the feel of each other.

“Maker, you feel so good,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his earlobe.

It didn’t matter if he had himself under control or not; his hips rocked against hers, his cock slipping out and back into her. With a groan, he took her mouth in a kiss again, stroking his tongue against hers, sliding one arm under her shoulders to hold her against his chest. He cupped her cheek with the other hand, pressing his forehead against hers when they broke apart to gasp for breath.

She gazed up at him, right into his eyes, and he was drowning in her. Her hips lifted into his thrusts, her body taking him in so perfectly, and her fingers gripped his back, holding him tightly as he lost himself in her. He held onto his control by his fingernails, wanting this to last longer but hurtling inevitably toward the sweetest oblivion.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, kissing him deeply, holding him even tighter. “You can let go, Lucanis.”

He hadn’t realized he’d needed to hear that until the words fell from her lips. All of the tension in him, all of the anxiety and fear and desperation, suddenly snapped.

Throwing his head back, he shouted out her name. Spasms wracked him, his cock throbbing as he spilled deep inside her welcoming body. She pressed wet kisses against the corded line of his neck, murmuring encouragement and pleasure and sweet nothings, holding him as he slowly came back into himself. It was like dying and being reborn in a burst of fire, and he had never felt anything like it before.

They lay there for a long moment, kissing languidly, her hands caressing him so gently. He hadn’t dreamed it could be so good, nor that he needed this so badly. He needed the release of their bodies coming together so intimately. He needed the acceptance of her embrace, her kisses, her soft eyes meeting his, and her smiles and her affection. And he didn’t know if he would be able to live without it after this night.

When his softening cock slipped free from her body, Rook nudged him to roll to the side and got up from the bed, padding into the little adjoining privy. Lucanis suddenly felt awkward again; what the hell was he supposed to do? Did she leave because she needed to get away?

“STOP THINKING,” Spite grumbled. “JUST WAIT.”

A moment later, she came back into the room, still gloriously naked, her hair spilling over her shoulders and her hips swaying with each step. He gasped in shock when a wet cloth smacked into his chest, and she laughed in delight. “So that’s how to catch you by surprise,” she teased, climbing back onto the bed. “Just walk around naked, and you’re so distracted that you’d never see it coming.”

“I’d be happy to see you coming,” he teased back, sitting up.

“Oh, I see you’ve regained your faculties,” she said with a grin, unabashedly watching as he cleaned himself up with the cloth. “Should I be on my guard for more seductive banter?”

The cloth landed on the floor with a splat, and he pressed his lips against hers, loving the way she moaned and melted into his kiss.

Rook curled up against him, pulling the blanket over their entwined bodies, and she quickly fell asleep with her cheek resting on his chest. Her hair smelled so sweet, and her body was warm and soft against his, wrapped around him, relaxed and comfortable like she was at home in his arms. The demon in him purred in contentment, settled like he had never been before.

Lucanis was so lost.

But maybe he needed to be.

#lucanis x rook #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis fanfiction #lucanis fic #fanfic by eiluned #veilguard fanfic #dragon age veilguard #da4 #dragon age fanfiction

81 notes · View notes