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theconstantsidekick · 3 months

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Lit Cigarettes (Part 1)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x BestFriend!Reader, Damon Salvatore x Stefan Salvatore x Sister!Reader (mentioned) Genre: Angsty Fluff

Summary: Y/n decides that Dean Winchester really needs to know how she feels about him.

(Set after the events of Supernatural season 4 and yes, Y/n is technically a Salvatore. I love the adopted sibling trope, can you tell?)

a/n: I have another part in mind if this does well.

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of smoking, romanticisation of smoking, a lot of that yes, sorry. Don't smoke kids.

Part 2 is here

He used to light her cigarettes when she was too busy talking. That’s what love is. According to her, that is the truest, most genuine form of love. The idea might sound quite contradictory, somehow. But it would make sense to smokers all around the world.

The thought that somebody would just pluck the cigarette out of your hand, light it, take a little puff to keep the light aflame and just place it back between your index and middle finger. That’s somehow so painfully selfless that it can’t be classified as anything other than the most romantic act known to mankind.

Now, the tragedy of it all was that that was the only showing of love she ever got from him. All she ever got was a lit cigarette handed off to her while she was too invested in spewing absolutely random bullshit about the sensors on automatic doors at some blackwater motel in an unnamed town. He’d do it quietly. He wasn’t quiet but there was always a quietness about him. Not quiet in the truest definition of the word. He was quiet in a different way, he talked. He was always charming, never not charming. He smiled and charmed everyone further still, but it felt like a very well rehearsed performance. His words, his charm, his smile seemed rehearsed, practiced relentlessly. A stark contrast to how they talked, when he talked to her and just her. Or well, so she thought until she found out that he could talk with a genuine smile to just about anyone unless there was a room full of people. Until the day she found that out, she felt quite special about it.

She felt important to him, enough for him to talk around her more, smoke around her more and light her cigarettes when she was too busy talking.

He never smoked around anyone else, hid the bad habit from his brother, but never her. It made her feel like there was a precarious unspoken bond between the two of them that could break at the mere mention of it. Could it?

She’s going to find out.

“Dean,” she calls out in no urgency, with a quiet calm. They are packing up their things, leaving the small motel room behind for another one in another town. Sam’s out at the reception, settling the bill. He’ll be back soon, she needs to wrap this up before he comes back.

“Yeah?” Dean answers, never looking up from the duffle bag he’s aggressively shoving his clothes into.

“I love you.”

Dean’s motion halted at once. He doesn’t move, she thinks maybe he can’t move.

“Dean?”

The man in front of her gulps, audibly. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” It feels important to reiterate in this case.

“I—” Words seem to be straining him. “I heard you the first time.”

“Good,” she tells him and then resumes packing her shit. But there’s a few more things to add, “I know we don’t talk about it, I know we aren’t supposed to. I know you’ve always known that I loved you and we still never talk about it, which means you don’t feel the same way, which again, I know. I am not trying to change your mind, I’m not trying to get into your pants. I’m certainly not asking you to love me back. I am not asking for anything actually, so you can quit looking so fucking terrified. I just needed to tell you because you up and died and it felt like my life stopped, like I couldn’t fucking breathe anymore. I felt hollow and broken and it felt wrong to be alive…” He looks at her then. Her voice is so thick with emotions, even though she is trying to keep them at bay, he must have felt compelled to look at her, she muses.

Shaking her head, she exhales audibly. “But you’re back now and I just needed to say it. I’ve loved you since I first saw you when I was 13. I don’t know how to not be in love with you, trust me, I’ve tried. So, I've learnt to make peace with it. I definitely don’t need you to say something, I just needed you to know that I love you, always have, most probably I always will. I need you to know that you are loved.”

There is silence then, no words, just the sound of her footsteps as she goes around the room picking up things she wants to shove into her bag.

“I…” Dean tries. But the words fade away just as quickly as the thoughts strike him. She looks at him for a second but the silence that proceeded makes her look away. She has just dropped a huge bomb, not that it was some revelatory information but it was something they had avoided talking about for literally ever, so it was fair that he needed some time to come up with a response. She is more than happy to give it to him.

But then Sam walks back into the room. “I’m pretty sure the dude at the reception thinks we’re a freaking thruple.” He walks to the washroom to collect his toiletry pouch and begins packing as well. “I mean, I’m not sure I can blame him? But I want to?” He shrugs. “Dean and I really don’t look all that alike, maybe that’s it? But this is like, the seventh motel in a row that’s given me really weird looks, you know? I don’t know whether to be flattered or plain disgusted—” His words drop off, as he finally notices the atmosphere in the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks looking from his brother to his best friend.

“Yes,” Dean replies at the same time as she says, “No.”

“NO?!” Dean balks at her.

“Can you guys drop me off at the bus stop? I gotta head to Mystic Falls,” she says, zipping up her bag and exiting the room.

Dean follows her instantly. “Mystic Falls? I thought you weren’t talking to your brothers?” Running up to catch up with her, he races even further ahead to open the trunk of his car for her.

“Yeah, but that was last week,” she tells him as if that was enough explanation. She places her bag in the trunk.

“They kicked you out!” Dean seems on edge. She can’t completely understand why.

She looks at him. “It’s Stef’s birthday.”

“He’s had a couple hundred of those,” Dean argues.

She smiles, “I hope he has a couple hundred more, and I’ll try to attend them all.”

“Damon forgot yours!”

She shrugs. “I’ll pretend to forget his. But this is Stefan. And besides, Caroline invited me. You want me to bail and piss her off?”

He slams the trunk shut. “Fine!” He acquiesces, albeit very aggressively. “But I’m dropping you to the Boarding House, not a fucking bus stop.”

Meanwhile, Sam comes out, carrying his own luggage as well as Dean's—who had apparently completely forgotten about it. He opens the trunk again, eyeing Dean and her very suspiciously.

She moves to open the back door of the Impala. “You’re going to Ohio, it’s like a three hour detour.”

“It’s two hours with me behind the wheel. Get in,” he commands, leaving no room for any argument.

“I was doing that anyway,” she says almost to herself, getting in the back.

Dean stops her. “Get in the front. Sam’ll sit in the back.”

“I will?” Sam questions, lost.

Dean doesn’t care. He just gets in the driver seat, not waiting on either of the two. A look passes between Sam and her. He raises a brow in question, she just smiles and shrugs again in response and gets in.

Later, when Sam’s already asleep in the backseat, Dean clears his throat.

“So.”

She doesn’t turn around to look at him, she isn’t sure she was supposed to, and it’s drizzling, she doesn’t want to turn away from the window, not yet. “So.”

She can feel him shift uncomfortably next to her. “You gonna say anything?” He asks.

She thinks for a second. “I don’t think I have anything left to say, really. I said everything I had to say.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Dean yells out.

She has to look at him then, with ire in her eyes. “SHhhh!! He’s sleeping!” She whisper-yells at him, pointing to Sam in the back seat.

Trying to compose himself once again, Dean whisper-yells back at her, “What do you mean you’ve said everything you had to?”

“I said it, in the motel,” She explains.

“And that was it? The end of the conversation?” Dean questions, seeming very agitated.

“I mean, yeah! What else am I supposed to do?” She throws back, his agitation is quite contagious. It always has been.

“You really think that was a reasonable end to that conversation?!” Dean bites.

She’s getting annoyed now. “What do you want? You want me to elaborate? Write a thesis paper on it? Or—or would you like to read my diary where I scribbled ‘Y/n Winchester’ a million times? What exactly is the resolution you’re looking for here?”

“You wrote ‘Y/n Winchester’ in your diary a million times…?” He asks, almost as if he cannot comprehend the idea of it.

From anyone else she would’ve taken that as an insult. Had it been anyone else they might have actually been making fun of her. But it’s not anyone else. It’s Dean. So she’s compelled to look at him.

“Yeah, Dean. And it was just as embarrassing then as it is right now. But I was the nerdy teenager and you were the hot jock who the cheerleaders at Mystic Falls High were dying to date.” Just the thought of those days makes her morose. “I don’t like to think about those days.”

Then there is silence again.

Until Dean clears his throat, slowly he says, “But I never drove any of them home.” And damn it all to hell, it makes her smile. And damn it all to hell, her smile apparently makes him more confident in his approach. “I didn’t wait for them outside their place, blaring AC/DC at the crack of dawn, all to get milkshakes before school… It was you. I wanted to hang out with you.”

But that’s somehow the wrong thing to say, “Never at school.”

“What?” Dean asks, thrown off.

“You didn’t talk to me at school.” Admitting it, it breaks something in her all over again. It’s like she’s in highschool again. She hates it.

“That’s not true! We had lunch together everyday!” He defends.

“Nope,” she tells him. “You had lunch with the cheer squad while I sat on the table next to you silently eating really bad beans.”

“But I was there,” He tries.

“You were,” she concedes. “You were there but you weren’t there.”

Silence falls once again.

“I don’t blame you,” she is the one that breaks it. “For high school.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely more hurt at the fact that she doesn’t blame him than the fact that she accused him of ignoring her.

“It’s a weird time for everyone, and I think Mystic Falls High was the first time you got to actually enjoy it. You stayed there long enough to stop being the new kid and I think it was also the first time you felt like you fit in. I didn’t, and that was never your fault… or your problem for that matter,” she explains, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

“That’s not fair,” Dean opposes.

“What?”

“Your problems are my problems.”

And the finality of his statement gives her a weird sort of confidence to say, “Sheesh. Wonder why I ended up falling in love with you.”

The car skids a little.

She can’t help it, she laughs.

“YOU CAN’T JUST SAY SHIT LIKE THAT!” Dean argues.

She’s still laughing, “I’m sorry. But… Come on! It was kinda funny.”

“I did not find that funny! Not even a little bit! What’s so funny about being—” He cuts himself off.

She laughs a little harder. “That’s what’s funny! You can’t even say it! You wanna know what’s so funny about being in love with you? I can’t stop it. It’s…” She sits up to position her back towards the window and moves herself to face Dean better. “It’s like breathing. I have tried, time and time again, to stop, and for a while I can. I can try to hold my breath when I’m being mindful of it. I can remember not to breathe when I’m focused on not breathing but the moment my brain gets engaged anywhere else, I’m screwed. The moment I look away, the moment I burn my toast, or start reading a book or watch a film, the moment I’m in a rush to meet Bonnie, the moment my mind becomes occupied with anything other than the conscious thought reminding me not to breathe—BAM! I’m falling in love with you again. It’s so fucking easy, it’s so fucking comfortable. Loving you is the my most cherished accomplishment because I’ve done it so fucking well for so freaking long.” She smiles. “I feel like I deserve a prize.”

Dean stays silent.

Her smile fades.

She shakes her head, she knew what he felt. She’s always known how he feels. A long silence shouldn’t be the thing that aches her heart. Not after having been in love with this man for this long.

“Did you—” He cuts himself short. She turns to him again, eager for him to continue. And her silent pleas are heard loudly. Continue he does, “Did you decide to tell me… about this today cause we met 15 years ago today?”

“No,” she brushes him off. “I just needed to get this off my—” Suddenly his words strike her like a thunderbolt. “What do you mean 15 years ago today?”

He shrugs, eyes on the road. “A day before Stefan’s birthday, that’s when we met for the first time.”

“You… You remember the day we met?” She asks, dumbfounded.

Dean doesn’t answer, instead the car comes to a stop. He’s pulled into the parking lot of a 7Eleven. “I’ll be right back.”

Only when she watches Dean get out of the car and walk into the store does she realise that it’s the 7Eleven in Mystic Falls. They are only a few minutes away from the Salvatore Boarding house, barely 12 minutes away from her brothers’ place.

She can’t believe she feels this way but a part of her feels like she’s running out of time. But running out of time for what? It’s Dean! He’ll be there to pick her up two days later. He’ll be there to light her cigarettes in a crowd—and not mean absolutely anything by it—in two days time. It’s not that long. They’ve dropped her off to live with her brothers’ for weeks even. Two days is nothing. It’s barely a visit. Then why in God’s name does she feel like there’s a clock right above her head counting down. And counting down to what??

“Here you go,” Dean says, as he gets in and throws something in her lap.

She catches out of reflex. “Cigarettes?” It’s two packs of menthols, her current favorite.

“What about ‘em? You like these right?” He pulls out of the parking lot. “You quit Marlboro Reds a month ago, and switched to these so I thought they’d be a safer bet. Was I wrong?”

It’s natural though. The most natural thing in the world. Dean buys her cigarettes. He always buys her cigarettes.

The thing about smoking that most people don’t understand is that it opens a whole new world. It’s bad obviously and no one should do it. But when you do it, when you smoke, there are a few things, a few rules that might not mean anything to a non-smoker but mean everything to a smoker.

Take for instance, ‘Puff-Puff-Pass’.

For any random person, the intricacies of ‘Puff-Puff-Pass’ exists to the extent of its name. But only a smoker knows that in an intimate setting, between two friends, the rule doesn’t apply. It’s rude not to follow the rule in a social gathering amongst semi-strangers, but among the two of them, it never applied.

Similarly, buying someone cigarettes is the purest gesture of care.

Having a pack ready for consumption whenever she came back from a visit to the Salvatore Boarding House? To her that always felt like the loudest way that Dean could tell her that he cared for her.

And he did these things often. Even when he quit smoking, he’d light her cigarettes for her. For as long as Dean has known she smokes, she has never lit a cigarette for herself. These gestures of… call it love, call it self-destruction, they have never not been there. So him buying her cigarettes is the most natural thing in the world but it throws her off still.

“Y/n?”

“What?” She suddenly remembers there was a question there, in his words before. “Oh yeah. Menthols… I smoke menthols now, yes. Good guess.”

He noticed me change my cigarettes? She asks herself, feeling something very close to giddy. Before she has to scream at herself inside, cause Dean has always done this and it has never meant anything. It’s just his small way of adhering to his duty of care.

“Thanks,” she tells him belatedly. She doesn’t fail to notice how the words make his nose scrunch up—the way it usually does when he dislikes something.

“You said you’ve tried not loving me,” Dean states and that’s all it is—a statement, an observation.

But she feels compelled to explain herself, “It’s not easy,” she tells him. “You’re… You’re you. You’re charming and hot and…” she’s spilled most of her guts, what harm can a little bit of spilling her heart do now? “You’re beautiful. You’ve got a different girl to take home every other night. It kills me inside, I won’t lie. It’s torture seeing you laughing with someone else. It really is. But it’s not your fault. And, I know you don’t feel the same way, and for a long time I didn’t mind this one sided affair cause, it was mine, you know? This love I had for you, it was all mine. I didn’t care if you loved me back… But then you…”

“Died,” he finishes the sentence for her.

She nods lamely. “It felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest. I don’t remember what I did when you weren’t around. I don’t remember how I survived because to me breathing was being in love with you. It’ll always be that. I just knew if I ever saw you again, I needed you to know how I felt. I’d been too selfish with my love for you. I… I don’t know. It sounds stupid now. I just needed you to know and I felt like I should tell you today so I did.”

And then the car stops again.

She looks up and she’s standing in front of the boarding house.

Clock’s run out.

Dean tries to say something but she doesn’t know if she has the courage to hear a placated, softly-worded rejection so she just gets out of the car.

He follows suit.

He rushes to open the trunk and pulls out her luggage.

She takes it for him, and then begins walking to the door.

“Y/n!”

It feels like a gust of wind.

The way he calls for her feels like the gust of wind that blows right before the lighting strikes.

She turns without hesitance.

Their eyes lock.

He’s standing next to the driver side, the door to the impala is still open. The only thing lighting his face is a street light a couple paces behind him. Bathed in yellow, he looks like a wild field of sunflowers, with his messy blond hair and painfully green eyes. He’s absolutely breathtaking.

For all her talk of her love for Dean Winchester being like breathing, in this moment, at the sight of this man looking absolutely divine, she doesn’t think she remembers how to breathe at all.

So with bated breath, she waits for him to speak.

“Y/n…” He says again, before something changes and his eyes stop shining, his posture hardens, his hand grips the Impala’s door a little harder and his face loses color. Then he says, “We’ll pick you up Tuesday.” With that he gets back in the car and drives off.

It’s only when they’ve crossed the Mystic Falls border does the silence in the Impala break.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam tells him.

Find Part 2 here.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean fluff #dean angst #supernatural fantiction #spn fic

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amuromi · 1 year

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★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 5.3k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! mamaguro!reader, tipsy/drunk sex, unprotected sex, established relationship (married), pet names (mama), oral (f!receiving), postpartum/baby weight insecurities, implied safe word (not used, just mentioned)

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ According to Gege, Mamaguro was what got Toji on the straight and narrow for a little while. I wanted to explore the thought a bit.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

The familiar beeping of the keypad cuts through the droning static of the night, trilling crickets and passing cars, as Toji punches in the passcode. The little light seems to hesitate before flickering green and blinking its acquiescence to his presence. With a dull click of the motion sensor the entryway blooms with a stark wash of fluorescence bright enough to make him squint, eyes stinging after wasting hours in the dimness of some club. His pockets are lighter and his head is fuzzier for it, the taste of alcohol still burning on his tongue as he kicks off his shoes and pads deeper into the apartment. The entryway goes dark without him to trigger the automatic light and the hall offers no light to replace it but he’s familiar enough between these walls to find his way towards where he needs to be, stumbling only once as a toy finds its way underfoot, squeaking as he kicks it away.

The room is illuminated by the faintest light leaking through the slightly parted curtains. The thread of faded yellow light slants across the bed, finding shapes in the darkness. The parted lips of his wife and the fluttering lashes of his son. He’s a tiny thing even after all these months–still a wisp of a person–but bigger than the last time Toji saw him. His face has started falling into place, fledgling features beginning to take shape. So strange that this little thing could look so much like him. Familiar black hair falls across his forehead like streaks of ink and his face is screwed up into a scowl even as he sleeps, legs kicking and arms twitching.

Toji’s shadow cuts through the beam of light as he stands over his son in his nest of pillows–“to keep him from rolling,” he vaguely remembers you saying. Toji’s hands are rough, calloused and scarred, but he can’t deny the urge to touch his son. He presses a dimple into the baby’s cheek, and his skin is plump and warm like a dumpling beneath the pad of his father’s fingertip as he begins to stir in earnest at the disturbance. He stretches like a cat, grape-sized fists reaching out above his head before his eyes blink open with a yawn. Twin pairs of deep blue eyes meet in the darkness. Toji expects the tears that ensue as his son’s sleepy gaze lands on the hulking silhouette standing over the bed. At first it’s only the whisper of a sound, short garbled whimpers that slowly work up to a volume loud enough to wake you. The reaction is immediate, platitudes ready on your tongue even as your voice slurs with exhaustion.

“What’s wrong, Megumi?” The raspy drawl of your voice is enough to soothe the baby’s tears as you sit up to hold him. It takes you so long to acknowledge Toji that he has to wonder if you’re purposefully ignoring him as you fret over the crying baby. A curt “welcome home” is all you can muster towards him as you dote on your son, shushing and cooing until his little whimpers turn into snores. The nursery is at the end of the hall–the farthest room from the front door at your insistence–and you shoulder past Toji to take Megumi to his room. He lets you, stepping aside because you’d never actually be able to move him even if you used all your strength. He’s as movable as a brick wall even if there’s a bit of alcohol numbing his reflexes and you know it. Knocking into him is as effective as a dog growling at a wolf.

While you’re gone, he tosses the extra pillows to the floor along with his shirt. It’s laced with the scent of cigarettes and folded pride after spending the day whittling away his earnings on what were supposed to be sure things. Easy money made by taking low stakes bets that all unraveled one after the other. The money is wasted now and maybe he needs a fight, some kind of outlet, to expel the lingering frustration. He’s waiting for you at the foot of the bed when you return from putting Megumi down. Like a moth to a flame you come fluttering over to him looking to get burned. You stand between his spread legs and Toji can’t find it in himself to keep his hands off you.

The tank top you wore to sleep is already rucked up your waist from sleeping and his thumbs find the exposed skin of your stomach, kneading against the new softness of your waist. It’s waning with each day as your body slowly reknits its shape after having Megumi but Toji finds himself somewhat enthralled with the lingering baby weight. You’re always quick to catch an attitude the moment he starts clinging around your extra weight. Smacking at his hands and telling him to leave you be like he cares if you’ve gotten bigger from carrying around his kid for nine months. It shows in your hips and your breasts, makes you look real good even when you moan about how long it’s taking for your body to “snap back.” It’s not like you’re a stretched rubber band to be shrinking once the tension’s gone but he keeps the thought to himself. It’s been made abundantly clear you’re not trying to hear his reassurances anytime you get to berating the body he loves so much. As if you aren’t everything he wants and more.

“Missed you.” The words sting worse than the alcohol. It isn’t in him for Toji to be saying things like that often. But both of you already know he hates being away from you, and now Megumi, too. His hands tighten around your waist as you try to pull away, pulling you closer even as your feet drag until he can rest his face against the lingering roundness of your stomach. He got you like this. Everything about you in this moment, the tired drawl of your voice and the added softness of your body is all his doing and he’s damn proud of himself. His pretty little wife that suffers his erratic presence and pitiful parenting with little more than patient sighs. Sometimes you’re upset and he always deserves it but even when your face is lined taut with anger he can’t help but marvel about how lucky he is. Makes him want to straighten up, be better. Makes him want to do right by you like a proper husband should. You’ve given him all your time and energy. Your name and everything. It’s the least you deserve but here he is, face smushed happily into the soft warmth of your tummy as you card through his hair, waiting for an explanation for his absence. After all, he said he’d be home two days ago.

Toji has been gone for nearly a month, having fed you some lies about freelancing on a construction contract a few prefectures over. It’s something simple, easy to swallow. Because he can’t very well tell you about what it is he really does to keep a roof over your head. It’s selfish, lying to you the way he does, but Toji has never claimed to be a particularly altruistic man. He’s selfish and greedy. Doesn’t want anything bad coming near his girl, tainting the charitable image of him she has in her mind. If you wise up too much you might up and leave him and then where would he be? Nah, he’ll keep telling you he’s out doing grunt work, manual labor. The type of strenuous work that pays well because you don’t need to know what it is the hands he touches you and your son with are truly capable of.

“You mad at me?” He asks when you take too long to answer him. It’s not meant to sound so teasing, so mocking, but Toji is sardonic by nature and his tongue is plied with too many shots. It makes him sound like he’s trying to rile you up. And maybe he is. Hadn’t that been his original intention before you came back to him all soft and sweet, looking so perfectly tired. He shouldn’t push you but he wants to. It’s clear you’re exhausted but he’s wide awake and pumped full of liquor and audacity. It curls around him like armor, makes him want to poke and prod until you stoop to his level and entertain his excess energy. He needs something to help him work through the high of coming home to you. His teeth find a soft spot to land above your navel and you yelp out a sharp quit it! before smacking the back of his head as his tongue tastes the place his teeth had been.

“What do I have to be mad about?” Comes your pragmatic answer as your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at the roots to get his mouth away from you. It doesn’t work. He’s stronger than you, won’t move unless he wants to and what reason would he ever have to leave the soft warmth of your body? You smell so good in a way you probably hate. There’s no trace of perfume on your skin. No lingering scent of soap or detergent. You smell wholly like yourself. Like sweat and something sweet and it makes him want to taste every inch of your skin. You squirm as Toji pushes your shirt higher until it’s tucked up under the swollen weight of your breasts heavy with milk.

“Nothin’.” Toji decides even though he’s sure there’s a thousand things you could be mad at him for. He was gone two days longer than he said he’d be and wasted one of those days blowing his money on spoiled bets. He was late and still had the audacity to come home far past midnight, in those dark hours that linger just before sunrise, after you’ve been dealing with a newborn all day. Yeah, you should be mad, but he’s glad you’re not. When he looks up there’s the faintest hint of annoyance lingering on your face, pinched between your brows and weighing at the counters of your mouth. It’s a pretty look on you as his eyes begin to adjust to the muted darkness. Mussed hair, tired bruises under your eyes, and disheveled clothes. It’s a look only he gets to see because you’d never leave the house looking like you’ve just gotten into a fight. But fuck if you don’t make it look so good.

It’s enough to make Toji smile. Something mean and wanting as he stands to get in your face. He can hear it in your voice, that aloof attitude that you get whenever he’s in one of his moods. You’re trying your hardest not to rise to his prodding and it’s almost annoying how fucking perfect you are. The kind of woman that only exists in movies. The kind of woman that deserves more than him. But Toji won’t let anyone else have you. He made that decision a while ago. Marriage and a baby. A ball and chain to tether you to him. He watches the realization dawn on your face as he presses in until you’re nose to nose, a nervous “not tonight, Toji” whispering over his lips as you try to pull away from him again. He wants it to be tonight. And every night after. How can you be so perfect and expect him not to be panting after you like a dog every second of the day?

“Let me do it,” he asks, voice toeing the line of begging as his hands find your waist again. “Let me have it, mama.” Toji loves the way you squirm and pout and look away from him whenever he calls you that, like you aren’t the mother of his child. He kisses the corner of your mouth, a habit he picked up from you always pressing sweet little kisses to his scar. You fluster and shake your head, trying to pull out of his arms. He lets you just to see what you’ll do, frowning when you tug your shirt down over your stomach and go to lay back down. He watches you settle on top of the sheets, curling up on yourself like he won’t be able to see you if you make yourself small enough. Your breath comes too quickly for you to be sleeping, body lined with too much tension as you wrap yourself around his pillow like he’s not standing right here for you. His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling you loose from the ball you’ve curled yourself into.

“The fuck are you hiding for?” Toji snaps as you try to fix your top after his pulling rolled it up your back again. He hears you whine his name, small and petulant like you have something to be embarrassed of. It takes a moment for the realization to click into place, for Toji to fully accept the idea that his pretty little wife might not be feeling so pretty after all. Toji isn’t big on manners, doesn’t wanna stoop to saying please and begging for what he wants but he just might with the way you’re acting. It’s clear you want it. He can tell by the way you’re rubbing your thighs together. You want it just as bad as he does and yet here you are, covering yourself with the sheets and murmuring about not yet. Toji’ll be the first to admit he hadn’t paid much attention to anything the doctors were going on about when you were laid up in the hospital, sweating and crying as you held Megumi for the first time, but he does vaguely remember being advised against sex for awhile.

“Does it still hurt, mama?” He asks because he can’t be too sure you’ve fully healed from the ordeal of pushing a little person out of your body. When you shake your head and throw your arms over your eyes, Toji frowns. He’s been gone for three and a half weeks, hasn’t fucked you in just as many months, and yet here you are mumbling over excuses to keep your clothes on. Too tired, too late, Megumi might wake up again. As if he won’t do all the work to make you feel good.

Toji can’t help but scoff. “What are you on about?”

As if he hasn’t answered calls while he’s balls deep inside you. If his son wakes up he’ll go see what he needs and come back to finish what he started. You don’t even need to move. All you gotta do is lay back and spread your legs while he takes care of the rest. His fingers hook into the elastic of your waistband, keen on pulling those baggy pants off. He knows what to expect. Your thighs got thicker to match the new weight of your hips. He’s expecting the plushness as he wrestles the pants off your legs even as you weakly bat at his hands and whine about him waiting a minute. All it earns you is another bite to the softness of your thigh because why would he wait even a second more after he’s already waited this long.

He’s nearly delirious with desire. There’s no more time for waiting and your pitiful little protests aren’t doing much to convince him that you actually want him to stop. You need this. Need your man to bully you out of your clothes and prove how much he’s missed seeing your body because clearly Toji’s words aren’t enough to get it through your thick skull just how gorgeous he thinks his wife is. But fuck do you look beautiful even in the darkness. He spares a second to turn on the bedside light, ignoring your feeble attempts at protest as the dim light washes over you. He watches you try to roll away, grasping at the sheets to cocoon yourself out of sight.

“Stop fucking runnin’, mama. Lemme see my girl. Already said I missed you.” Toji groans as he grabs you by the waist, reveling in the way you squeak as he moves you where he wants. Little thing always thinking you can run from him like he won’t pull you back every time. He’s greedy, wants to keep you to himself. You’re his. His wife, mother of his son. His, his, his. And yet you’re acting like he’s exaggerating how desperately he wants you after so long. Maybe it’s the alcohol turning him mean, but he wants to prove himself beyond a shadow of a doubt in your mind. It’s all he ever wants. To prove himself worthy. He knows he not but it’s the least he can do to pretend that one day he might be. You just have to let him.

He takes pity on you as you squirm, grasping for the edge of the sheets Toji’s already tossed out of reach.

“S’okay, mama. I got you.” His hands pet over your hips, fingers playing at the edge of your panties. He wants them off of you, wants to get his mouth on your cunt ’cause he can clearly see the wet spot seeping between your legs. You’ve always loved how big he is, how easy it is for Toji to move you how he wants, and yet here you are trying to play at being bashful like you don’t want his head between your legs.

“Don’t be gross,” you whine as he works you out of your panties and brings them up to his nose. Toji doesn’t miss the way you lift your hips to help. All this huffing and puffing when you want it just as bad. It makes him want to be nastier just to get under your skin, and just like he wants you to, you whine something about him being such a nasty weirdo as he tongues at the wet spot your pussy has left in your panties. The taste has his cock swelling in his pants, twitching to be inside you after months of only using his hand. It’s nearly painful the way his dick throbs at the sight of you spread underneath him. Wet and neglected as you try to tug your shirt down over your lap. Fuck, he’s glad he married you because Toji can’t stomach the thought of another man ever being in his place and getting to see you just like this. He hears the sound of your hand smacking his shoulder more than he feels it as you try to get him from between your legs. It doesn’t work, just makes him nip at your thigh again as he shoulders your legs apart and pushes your stretched shirt out of his way.

Toji isn’t doing it for you when his tongue licks a broad stroke up your pussy but you sigh like he is before thinking better of it and going back to pulling at his hair, trying to get him from between your legs like anything could part him from your fat little cunt. The feeling prickles over his scalp and sings down his spine in a way that has his hips grinding against the bed. He’s not worried about you as he sucks your clit into his greedy mouth, tongue tracing the shape of his name over the sensitive bud. It’s his, you’re all his.

He can barely hear you whining over the sound of how wet your cunt is in his mouth. “Toji, get up. M’gonna squish you, stop it!” You’re not saying anything important and he tightens your legs around his head, trying to drown in the warmth of your thighs smothering him. When you don’t get your way he feels the hand not gripping his hair pressing against his shoulder. Not trying to move him, but using his immovable nature to your advantage as you try to scoot up the bed. He doesn’t care until you get far enough that his mouth pops off your cunt. There’s a shining mess of spit and arousal strung between the two of you and he’s eager to make you even messier. An arm is tossed over your wiggling hips, heavy as a steel beam to keep you from running from his mouth again.

“Stop movin’, lemme eat in peace.” He groans as his nose nuzzles against your clit while he tongues at your fluttering hole. His eyes watch you over the soft curve of your tummy. Your eyes are wet with tears as you whimper over the feeling of his hot tongue on your pussy. You’ve been suffering just as much as he has but you’re still acting like you don’t want him to fucking ruin you, like you don’t deserve it. You do. Of course, you do. Everything and more. He feels you relax into it, hand loosening to softer tugs in his hair as your lashes flutter and lips part. This is how he likes you, soft and happy. Quiet little moans filling the room as he makes a mess between your legs. He can feel you getting close as your pussy drools down his chin. Your thighs are tensing around his head, shaking in the way they always do when you’re close to cumming. It makes him laugh, and the deep sound sings through your pussy. It’s enough to push you over the edge.

Finally, finally, you drop the shy act and pull his mouth closer, hips grinding against his face like you’re trying to mark him up with your wetness. He can feel it glossing over his cheeks and chin, smell it as he watches you ride his face. Two fingers find their way inside your fluttering walls, hooking against that sweet spot until you squeal and he gets to hush you like that’s not exactly what he wanted to hear. Because weren’t you the one worried about waking the baby? Now listen to you. This is what he wanted and you were being all stubborn acting like he couldn’t have it. It’s not until you’re running again that he eases up. He could keep going, keep eating you until you’re all out sobbing and shoving at him to get his greedy mouth and thick fingers away from your pussy, but he’ll be nice just this once. Toji sits back on his knees and watches you cringe at the sound his fingers make as they slip out of your soaked cunt. Webs of your arousal cling between his fingers and he makes a show of dragging his tongue between them like he’s still eating you out.

“Felt good, huh?” He knows it did. You made such a big mess and you’re still dripping onto the sheets. Makes him eager to get you on his dick. It’s still straining in his pants, painfully hard from tasting you and hearing all your little noise. He gets up just long enough to strip off his pants, ignoring the mess he’s made just from getting his head between your legs. Toji eyes your shirt, still pulled defiantly low.

“Take it off.” You grab at the hem, fiddling with nervous fingers. “Take it off or I’ll rip it off.” He amends. You mumble something that sounds like “don’t wanna” as you cling to the fabric like it’ll keep him off you.

Toji scoffs, “You know what to say if you don’t want to.” He reminds you as he grabs at the collar of your shirt. It’s damp with sweat as is the rest of your body. You look shimmery in the low light, eyes glittering with tears as he works you out of that last piece of clothing with a quick jerk of his arms. The shirt doesn’t put up a fight, ripping like paper so he can shove it away from your chest. Your body comes spilling out without the tight fabric clinging to you. Tits swollen with milk and tummy still holding on to that last bit of baby weight. You look like a mother and it makes his balls tighten. His mama, his girl. He got you like this and fuck if he isn’t gonna enjoy it while it lasts. He’ll leave your tits alone only ’cause you’ve been complaining–and he’s happy to listen–about how sore breastfeeding is making you. You’ve gone up a couple cup sizes and your tits look gorgeous but he won’t bother them if it’ll hurt you.

“Toji.” You’re pouting. He can hear it in your voice and see it in the way you’re squirming as he kneels over you, fisting his cock as he stares at your body.

“What?” Right about now he doesn’t really care about what you’re whining about unless you’re gonna start begging for his cock. His free hand finds your waist again, kneading at the softness he finds there. So plush and warm. Fucking you like this is gonna feel like he’s fucking a cloud. He hears you muttering about being too big and tells you to shut up.

“Don’t be fucking dumb. Acting like it’s the end of the world. Shut up and let me fuck you.” Usually he’d try to be more tactful with his words. It’s only right that you get to complain about how your body changed, but right now he really doesn’t want to hear it. You’re talking down on the body that’s driving him insane like you can’t see his cock twitching at the sight of you sprawled out beneath him. Toji tosses your thighs over his, pulling you up into the cradle of his lap, remembering only vaguely to shove a pillow under your back. You cover your face as he stares at your pussy, like he didn’t just get real up close and personal when he had her in his mouth. She’s still drooling real pretty for him as he ruts against you, wetting his dick with the mess you’re making. He feels your thighs jump every time the head of his cock catches against your clit. He pulls back the hood so he can really love on it, listening to the way you choke on your breath as he grinds over the sensitive little bud.

“Gonna let me inside, mama?” Toji asks and you nod eagerly, hips bucking in his lap. Fuck. You’re cute when you stop worrying so damn much. Acting like he isn’t dying to get his dick inside you. He can feel you clenching as he presses in, pussy gripping him so good as he drags you down on his cock. You take it so well. Inch by inch you let him inside until you’ve swallowed him down to the base, already wetting his hips with your excitement. The clenching heat is enough to stun him and Toji has to hold you still with clenched teeth to keep you from milking him to the edge too soon. You’re already trying to ride him with little bucks of your hips, hiding a smile behind your hands as you lay back against the pillows and act like you weren’t just trying to keep him off you.

“Not so shy now, huh?” Toji asks, squeezing at your thighs as he pulls back just to fill you up again with another deep stroke. You make a pretty little noise as he bottoms out, wet lips parting around a moan even as you try to catch it with your shaky hands. He’s got you good. You’re making enough noise for the both of you as Toji stirs up your insides, keeping you locked on his dick even when it starts to get too much for you. He can feel you trying to squirm away when he gets too deep inside you, hands grabbing at his wrists, trying to pry him off you. He’s mean about fucking you now, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit as you wail about it being too much.

“S’not enough if you don’t cum, mama. Lemme feel it.” You’re already clenching so tight around him, pussy milking his cock like you want another baby. He’s lucky you’re on the pill because the way your body is rippling with every thrust is getting him weak. There’s no way he’d be able to pull out even if he can barely handle the one kid he’s already got. It feels too good to stop even when you’re trying to get away from the feeling of him spreading you open.

Toji can’t help but laugh between his panting. “This is your dick, mama, stop running from it.”

“Yeah, it’s mine.” You agree, tongue getting loose the closer you get to cumming. “Want it. Want you.” He can feel you tightening up as you babble about him being yours. Your thighs start to shake again, trying to knock shut even with his legs keeping you nice and open for him.

“Get me wet, mama. I know you want to.” You cum hard, clit twitching under his thumb as you cream on his dick, getting him all sticky with your cum. Selfish as he is, Toji keeps you on his dick for a little while longer. Milking himself dry inside you while he keeps a quick pace on your clit. You’re crying and wailing–real loud like you don’t have a kid and neighbors–by the time he eases up on you. Your pussy is flushed and swollen around his cock when he pulls out. His dick is shiny with wetness, dragging out a mess with his softening cock. You’re leaking his cum in a frothy mess onto the sheets, pussy hot and twitching from how hard he fucked you. Toji can’t help but thumb through the mess, smearing the mix of your releases over your puffy pussy and circling your clit just to hear you whine about it being too much. So fucking pretty and all his.

His hands rub at your thighs as he lets you off his lap, trying to work the soreness from your muscles while you catch your breath. He watches you relax as the fatigue slowly creeps back in. He kept you up far longer than he should’ve but it was worth it for the way you seem so content to let him rub on you. An hour ago you would’ve been batting his hands off of you and cowering like you didn’t want him to see you. Now you’re content to stretch out across the bed and let him squeeze anywhere he pleases. This is what he prefers. It’s his body you were berating anyway. You belong to him. You’re not allowed to act shy and be mean like he won’t remind you just how much you’re worth. He thinks about getting his mouth on you again as he watches you cuddle back up to his pillow and decides you won’t mind too much. He can taste himself leaking out of your pussy as he drags his tongue through your folds. You whine and shift but the hand you slip into his hair is gentle, letting him have his fun as long as he goes slow. He only parts from you when a sharp cry crackles through the speaker of the baby monitor.

“I got him.” Toji says easily. You’re barely awake and it’s the least he can do after being gone for so long. “Go pee.” He reminds you as he slips back into his pants. You mumble something that might be an “okay” as he goes to see what Megumi needs. The little spud is squirming in his crib, snotting and crying like he needs something but he quiets the second Toji picks him up. He doesn’t want his bottle, doesn’t need to be changed, he’s just making noise ’cause he woke up wanting attention. Toji is content to give it to him, walking around the nursery until Megumi falls asleep again. Toji holds him a little while longer, basking in the sweet scent that seems to cling to him. Like milk and lotion as he rests a hand on his son’s back. When he gets back to bed where you’ve already changed and fallen back to sleep, Toji considers a career change.

#toji ★#toji smut #toji x reader smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #★ mine!

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whxre-bxby · 2 years

Note

what if, for ‘This Is What You Came For’ part 2 Quaritch gets his turn with you, while all the other recoms are there to watch 👀

FUCK YEAH BABY HERE WE GO THIS SHIT TOOK ME HOURS!

“This Is What You Came For” Pt.2

The Teasing Never Stops

"This Is What You Came For" 1

Masterlist

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, tiniest little bit of fluff if you squint, Non-con, ABSOLUTE HUMILIATION AND DEGRADING, mean Quaritch, teasing recoms, crying, voyeurism

A/N: I got so embarrassed and red writing this, enjoy <3 I'm also sick with a sore throat and shit but I provide :)

Word count: 7309

I can’t remember what happened after that… intense session. Lyle was carrying me and I may have very well passed out.

When my memory came back, I was in a cell-like room. My body was pressed up sideways against a wall and I was sitting on a bench inside it. It was very small and completely empty. I lift my head, looking around and seeing that the door was made of thick glass. It was an automatic sliding door. Maybe I could break it down or figure out how to open it.

I go to move off the bench but stop once I feel my limbs not move with me. I glance down to see that my wrists have been handcuffed together.

Wow, so much for them being nice, huh?

There was a green and red blinking light. It seemed like a motion sensor because it definitely wasn’t a camera.

I lean my head back against the wall, feeling sore between my legs and completely exhausted.

The handcuffs were starting to become uncomfortable and red rings formed on the skin of my wrists. I didn’t even feel like standing up.

The foreign feeling of wearing proper clothes had me unable to relax. I noticed I was wearing something very similar to what Z-Dog wearing the last time I saw her. Except I had shorts with I assume her or Walker’s tank top. No bra or underwear but it didn’t bother me.

After a few minutes of silence, I heard distant voices and some humans opened a large door, which led to the room with the cells. One of them being mine. All other cells were empty.

Leaning down and emerging on the other side was the Colonel. My ears automatically tip back but I watch him with a neutral face. I didn’t like him for what he did but he didn’t seem like he wanted to kill me last time, so I wasn’t going to push my luck.

A few humans waited by the entrance while he looked around and walked over to my cell. When his eyes caught mine he smiled a devilish smile.

“Mornin’. Or should I say, afternoon?” he teased. I must have been out for long.

“What happened?” I ask, stretching my arms and back.

“You passed out on the way back. That was yesterday, sweetheart.” he informed me, standing tall outside the glass or clear plastic door cell. There were breathing holes in it, so I roughly heard what he was saying.

“Oh.” I whisper, not knowing what to do.

He stared at me in silence for a while, as if he were weighing out his options and assessing the situation. After about a minute, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other and sighed.

“I’m gonna open this door and you’re going to come with me, understood? No struggling or fighting, otherwise there will be consequences.” Quaritch says, warning me with his stern tone.

It’s not like I really have a choice. I feel weak anyway. And my hands are no good right now, so I nod and he confirms my decision with a firm nod of his head.

The Colonel calls over a person in a lab coat and they open the door with their keycard. He moves to the side, to let me walk past but I wasn’t sure I would even be able to get up yet.

Slowly I turned to the side and let my feet touch the ground. At least my ankles weren’t tied.

I push myself off the bench and quickly lean against the wall with my flattened-out palms while I try to control the shaking of my knees.

“What? Ya need a wheelchair?” Quaritch asks, leaning against the door frame and smirking.

I scoff. Yeah right. I was going to spare myself that embarrassment.

“No. I’m fine.” I mumble, pushing myself off the wall and taking a shaky step forwards.

He huffs, seeming frustrated with how long it's taking me. But he doesn’t comment on it or get angry which surprises me. After all, I can’t walk because of his goddamn orders and his soldiers.

Quaritch offers me a hand, stretching it out in front of him and opening his palm to me.

I stare up at him, wondering whether he was serious. A gesture like that was one of the last things I expected.

“Come on, hurry it up. I don’t have all day.” he says, urging me to take his hand and follow him.

Quaritch did in fact have all day. He cancelled all his plans and tasks he had to complete today as Colonel so he could focus on you. While he wasn’t really sure what to expect and what to even do with you now that they had captured you, he knew he would have to devote his full attention to it.

“This is your doing.” I say, not looking at him but at my feet so that I don’t trip. He scoffs at my words.

I stretch out my right arm and my left follows, placing my hand into his open palm and taking another step.

“There we go.” he coos, looking down at my legs to make sure I don’t tangle them.

Once I’m out of the cell I stop and look around.

“You gonna be able to speed it up? If not, I will have you put in a wheelchair.” he tells me and it starts off by sounding nice and considerate and gradually his sentence turns into a threat. As if he can’t help himself but always be a little mean.

“I’ll be fine.” I mumble and he slightly nods before looking up at the exit doors.

He starts walking and I’m dragged behind him. My legs suffer the first few steps but quickly adapt to the feeling of walking and soon I let go of his hand. He doesn’t react when I pull it away, he just leads the way to where we are going. I look behind us to see a person in a lab coat jogging behind us and holding a clipboard. Next to them are two soldiers with their guns aimed at me.

I roll my eyes. If I would have wanted to kill them it would have been done by now.

We come to the end of the hallway and Quaritch looks behind him to see how I’m doing. Then another door automatically slides open and I see a big empty room. Well, empty of people, not equipment. There are benches and monitors and in the background, I see hologram-like pictures of Jake, Neytiri, Grace, Norm, the village that was set on fire and a picture of me. Human me. I walk inside and branch off from Quaritch who is telling a human to gather his squad here.

I stop in front of the hologram of my face. Next to it are a few other pictures of me working for the RDA. Then there is one of my Na’vi self, right next to my face. As if they were comparing the features to find out whether it was really me.

I stare at my human form, remembering what it was like. I hadn’t seen her in years. Then again, she wasn’t who I wanted to be. I didn’t like her. She used to have bad intentions and morally messed up thoughts. She was a weapon and not an individual form of life.

Quaritch had come up behind me, keeping a distance but looking over my shoulder at my past self. He seemed to be in deep thought.

I was staring at a picture I completely forgot existed. I used to have it in a frame on my nightstand when I was human and working for the RDA. It was a picture Norm took of Trudy and me with her newly assigned fighter helicopter. We were both in charge of it and it was ours to take out for missions.

She looked so happy, posing with me while we were installing the new equipment.

That was the helicopter she died in too. We both took it out after painting it with warpaint and when the helicopter was hit, it knocked me off and I fell. The huge leaves caught me and when I looked back up in the sky, the helicopter was a flaming fireball, falling to the ground. Tears swelled in my eyes and my heart ached.

I flicked to a new picture, one taken of me and… Grace. That was when Lyle and I accompanied her to get samples from the forest. He was in the background while she and I smiled for the camera.

I did miss her too.

The Colonel’s breathing seems to have stopped when he saw this picture. He knew now that he was responsible for both of their deaths but I couldn’t tell whether he felt guilty or not. But something was definitely bothering him.

Suddenly, his hand reached past my body and he picked up a holo tablet. My eyes followed his hands and he gestured over to a bench.

“Sit down here.” he says. It’s surprisingly not a stern, angry order. He’s talking to me like I’m one of his soldiers again. It warms my heart a little. But I couldn’t let it get to me. I knew they were horrible people. Worse than me. Their intentions stayed the same while mine had shifted to love Pandora.

My gaze flickers between him, the tablet and the bench. I decide not to make this difficult because he isn’t currently being awfully rude.

I walk towards him and sit in front of him on the bench. He watches in approval but his expression stays neutral and emotionless.

I cross my legs on the wooden seat and look up at him. The Colonel hands me the tablet and I continue examining my old self.

Just seeing the relationship I had with them before and seeing how happy I looked before realising how fucked up the RDA’s actions were. It was weird to think that that young girl was me. Her mind seems so different to mine now.

Quaritch is leaning against a desk, facing me and watching my reactions as I flick through the pictures.

Then my ears twitch to a new noise of distant footsteps, laughter and voices. I keep my eyes on the tablet though, getting an odd feeling of deja-vu.

The recoms walk in and stop at the entrance, seeing their Colonel and then …me. I’m awake and not being held down. Huh.

“Colonel.” Lyle greets and Quaritch snaps out of his thoughts and glances at his soldiers. Quickly, he pushes himself from the desk and straightens his posture.

He nods in their direction before they move into the room. A few of them sit down while others stand and a type of circle is formed. It’s odd that there is a structure and order in all their actions. Then again, it does seem familiar.

I tear my eyes away from the holopad and look around. I’m still not comfortable in all of their presence. They’re bad people and I still want to go home. My ears are tipped back and I don’t look anyone in the eyes.

Z-Dog stands close to her superior, eyeing me down. It doesn’t go unnoticed that my hands are still cuffed together.

Lyle takes a seat next to me but he’s not in my space so I don’t react. Mansk stands opposite Zdinarsk, also watching me. Maybe they were wondering why I wasn’t completely restricted. Or maybe they were afraid they would get beaten up again. Yeah, let’s settle for that. They were afraid.

Then Ja moves next to me, sitting much closer to me than Lyle. His legs spread in a mansplaining position and his knee nudges mine.

I glare at him and remove my legs from their previous position, keeping them placed firmly next to each other and on the ground now.

He smirked at me and my reaction, his eyes twinkling as he stared into mine while keeping his leg there where it was.

I wasn’t going to deal with his teasing so I looked straight ahead, keeping my ears flat and back. My tail flicked with irritation and I returned to look at the holopad on my lap.

“Alright squad, listen up.” Quaritch announces, clasping his hands together and gaining everyone’s attention. Ja also stops staring at me and faces forward.

“There’s a slight change in plan, now that we have accomplished half our mission.” he continues and people listen, occasionally nodding along.

I scoff which his sensitive ears capture and his head turns to me. The others also watch me, waiting for their Colonel’s reaction.

“Half the mission?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. Old Y/N is back now. My silent examining self was gone and was replaced with my attitude.

“That’s right.” Quaritch says, becoming annoyed. He says it in a way that urges me to keep talking.

“Wasn’t the mission to kill me?” I ask, tilting my head. He opens his mouth to reply but my curiosity gets the better of me.

“Which reminds me, how come I’m still alive?” I continue to push, genuinely confused why they haven’t tortured and killed me yet. While I was unconscious they had the perfect opportunity to get rid of me.

He sighs, glaring me down.

“It was. Now, you’ve helped us realise that you can make yourself more useful to us alive rather than dead.” he snarled, his own ears tipping back. Mine, therefore, perk forward at his words. What was he talking about? It better not be sexual. If I was going to become their personal toy I might as well just kill myself. I wasn’t going to willingly experience that humiliation again, no matter how good it may feel.

“If you’re going to use me as some kind of toy then I will make your lives hell on Pandora. I swear to god-” I start going off, words leaving my lips before I can run them through my head.

All the soldier's attention was really peaking now. Memories of yesterday flood their minds again, reminding them of the dirty pictures you left behind in their heads.

“I was going to say you can help us learn how to be Na’vi, but since your dirty little mind can’t help itself, we can put your wish to a test.” Quaritch steps forward, continuing to glare down at me. I hear Ja and Lyle both chuckle next to me as I try to keep my composure.

Quaritch raises an eyebrow and I look away in defeat. There was once again too much attention on me. I couldn’t handle it and I didn’t want to be blushing in front of them. I needed to gain or regain a good image.

“You gonna cooperate and teach us your damned language?” he asks and I huff before nodding. Pfft, ‘damned’ language. I’ve grown to prefer Na’vi over English.

“Words, sweetheart.” the Colonel says and I look up again.

“Yes.” The words softly leave my mouth, my voice much quieter. He smirks evilly, enjoying how he was able to make me fall back in line. Especially after I proved how much I was to handle.

“Alright then. Ms L/N, the board is yours.” Quaritch says, moving to the side for me to get up. I sigh, making sure they know I’m not happy doing this before getting up with the holopad and walking to the desk the Colonel was leaning against before.

“Anyone who isn’t part of this mission leaves now.” Quaritch orders and a few humans who were hanging around the entry door turned to leave.

Z-Dog got up too. She was part of this mission but she was working with Walker, Zhang, Warren and a few other soldiers who didn’t witness the unholy events that occurred the day before.

She walked out, closing the door behind her. The room had windows which connected to the hallway so we could still see the rest of the workforce passing our room.

Then the attention was back on me. Everyone was sitting now except for me and Quaritch.

“What do you want me to explain?” I ask, feeling clueless. Did they want me to recite the Na’vi alphabet to them or sing them children's songs?

“Whatever you deem as important.” Miles said but I just blankly stared at him.

“This is bullshit.” I say, hating that I had to do this. Prager and Mansk chuckled while Fike and Lopez exchanged looks. Brown kept his focus on me, not seeming fazed by the behaviour of his colleagues.

“Don’t push it.” Quaritch warned and Lyle grinned.

“Can you at least undo these?” I ask, holding up my cuffed wrists.

“If you give us a good lesson, I’ll consider it.” he smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest while shifting his weight from one leg to another and I huff.

“Fine.” I mumble. “Are you even getting paid for this?” I then ask, curiously.

Quaritch lets out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’ve been given a second chance at life Y/N, we don’t expect money after that.” He snarls.

“Seems like you’re kind of throwing that opportunity away.” I say looking away, reflecting on how they are doing exactly what got them killed last time.

“Start explaining some shit before I throw you back in that cell.” Quaritch threatens me, raising his voice and I flinch a little.

I start explaining basic things like greetings and the hand gestures one does.

“Can you write it down?” Lyle asks after a while and I pause. I don’t know whether his question was genuine because I didn’t expect them to actually want to learn any of this.

“Yeah, but you won’t be able to read it. The letters don’t look anything like your ones.” I say and continue telling them about anything I think is valid.

That’s something along the lines of “If you see the fruit with a red stem and purple bud, you can eat it but make sure the petals around it are yellow and not grey.” Or “Animals on Pandora are not there for our use. They live among the people and share our home.”

I was now leaning against the desk myself, feeling a little more comfortable talking until I noticed something new.

Eventually, the attention seems to leave what I am saying and focuses on my body. I notice a few eyes staring at my chest and waist and it irritates me. Quaritch him fucking self is looking me over even though he is the one that asked me to teach them.

I start saying something about the culture and clothing until Lopez interrupts.

“Did she not get a bra?” he asks Brown who is sitting next to him. Ja grins, his eyes shameless staring at my chest.

I look down to see that my nipples are visible through the fabric. It wouldn’t bother me, given the fact that the chest piece I usually wore would often slip and even reveal my bare chest. But in their presence and with their predatory eyes, it seemed to have a different effect on me.

Lyle turns to Mansk and Ja. ”Didn’t give ‘er any panties either.” he grins and immediately I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Their laughter makes me feel helpless and ashamed for something I am not responsible for.

“Hey Y/N, how do you say ‘panties’ in Na’vi?” Fike calls out in a teasing way, nudging Prager in the shoulder.

My ears strain as far back as possible. “You don’t.” I snarl, my tail wrapping around my leg. The word didn’t exist and it didn’t need to.

“How ‘bout ‘flustered’?” Mansk asks, leaning forward and grinning. My head snaps to him. Shit, were my cheeks really visibly red? I don’t respond to that because I know they aren’t even genuine questions. They’re just trying to embarrass me and have their fun.

“Can you explain how mating works?” Lyle asks, not letting it be. I want to be engulfed by the ground when I hear his question. I swallow nervously, fiddling with my restricted hands and glancing at Quaritch. I hope to see a disappointed or angry look on his face caused by the behaviour of his soldiers but he is just staring right back at me, not a hint of emotion on his face other than slight amusement. The comments and questions don’t faze him and he has no problem with what is being said.

That makes my blood boil.

Lyle is still looking at me, awaiting an answer and so are the others now too.

“It’s not that different.” I say, my voice breaking and the words almost turning into a whisper.

“A little louder, baby.” Ja says, leaning forward on his legs and resting his chin in one of his palms.

He smiles, pretending that his teasing had no bad intentions and was completely innocent. I knew damn well it wasn’t and their minds were filthier than my one could ever be.

He seems to be having a good time. That’s a strong contrast to how I’m feeling.

“It’s not that different.” I repeat, listening to them and speaking up. Lopez chuckles while Ja’s smirk turns into a shit-eating grin.

“Different from what?” Lyle asks, standing up now and slowly walking up to me. “From how we fucked you dumb yesterday?”

My eyes go wide at his bold words and I stare at him in disbelief. I open my mouth to try and reply but let’s be honest here, how the fuck does one respond to that?

“Huh?” he asks, not dropping it. He’s standing right in front of me, towering over me even though we’re both Na’vi.

“Move out the fuckin way, man. Can’t see shit.” Brown calls out and Lyle grins.

Lyle moves to the side and his hand comes up to grab my face. I flinch away and move away from his hands but he grabs me by the arm and grips my jaw tighter between his hand this time, making me look up at the other soldiers.

“Look at how shy she’s gettin’.” he laughs when I refuse to look at anyone and just close my eyes or stare up at the ceiling. “Aww, come on baby it’s okay. We’ve seen more than this.” he coos, mocking me and I whine, trying to move away, hoping he would let go of me.

“That’s enough.” I hear Quaritch’s stern voice almost shout from the other side of the room. Lyle lets go of my face and I drop my head down, sighing in relief.

When I glance at the Colonel, he’s saying something to Prager who then gets up and heads over to the windows.

Quaritch calmly makes his way over to me and I can feel the energy of authority he carries. It has Lyle taking a safe step back, distancing himself from me.

I can make out that Prager is pulling down the blinds on the windows from the corner of my eye but the realisation is subconscious. I’m too distracted watching the Colonel walk over to me with an unreadable look on his face. Even though I don’t work under his command anymore, he still remains so unbearably intimidating.

“Sit down.” he orders and Lyle nods, returning to his seat in a few quick strides. Prager also sat back down now and the room seems more enclosed with the windows not being seen.

He comes up to stand next to me and sends a harsh glare to his recoms.

“Leave the poor lady alone.” he says, turning to face them and placing a hand on my shoulder. It’s still bigger than my hands and almost engulfs my entire shoulder.

“She’s tryin’ to help us and teach us what we need to know and all you lot can do is tease ‘er.” he continues lecturing his team. My eyes widen and I look up at him but his eyes remain fixed on his soldiers. Some of them are looking at the ground or at their hands with their grins wiped clean off their faces.

“Look at the poor thing, you’ve embarrassed her. She can’t even look us in the eye now.” The Colonel continues.

Wow. My mind was blown. Quaritch was standing up for me. Why though? He didn’t seem to care earlier.

Finally, the teasing ended and they were told off for it. I couldn’t believe it was happening. It seemed almost too good to be true.

I was distracted by my thoughts, wondering why he chose to save me now. His words faded from my hearing slightly as I fought back a smile.

“Give me your hands, sweetheart.” He finally spoke, looking down at me. His voice was a little softer but his face was still neutral. I was hoping for an apologetic look but he didn’t give me one. I brushed it off, holding my locked up hands to him. He held them and opened the handcuffs, sliding them into the pocket of his cammies.

I rubbed my wrists which had marks on the skin from the cuffs.

Quaritch turned back to his soldiers while I stood next to him, my tail swaying from side to side now.

“If you ever speak to her like that again, we’re going to have a problem.” he continued and my heart fluttered at his words. I was saved.

“You’re never going to touch her like that again either, understood?” he added and I looked to see whether he was looking at Lyle because Lyle had just had a tight grip on me, but he wasn’t. Quaritch was looking at everyone which meant he was referring to past events. My tail stopped moving. Why did he have to bring that up again?

“And if you think you’re ever gonna get to see her like that again,” he spoke and I grimaced slightly, wondering what the point of his mentioning all this was again. “...then you ain’t that wrong.”

My heart stopped and I froze completely. What did he just say…?

I was in the motion of looking up but my movements stopped when his rough hand attached itself to the hem of my tank top and it was swiftly pulled up and over my chest.

I gasp, my eyes shooting wide open again as I go to cover my bare chest. The fabric pooled above my breasts and my hands flew to pull it down but just as they reached up, the same hand that pulled up the cloth, caught both my hands and held them in the air.

I glanced at Quaritch in disbelief and he had an evil smirk on his lips. His other hand curled around the bunched-up top and pulled it over my head.

I struggled in his grip, trying to free myself but it was absolutely no use.

The soldiers had meanwhile all looked up and their eyes were blown wide. They weren’t expecting Quaritch to do that but they sure as hell weren’t complaining.

“This,” he snarls, throwing the tank top behind him “this,” Quaritch reaches down to my shorts and since there is no belt to properly hold them up, he pulls them down my legs and kicks them away.

I’m completely bare and I put on leg infront of the other, raising it a little to cover myself in any way possible. His hand then holds my face similar to the way Lyle did before.

“And this,” he makes me look up at his soldiers again, some of who’m are grinning. “...is mine.”

I whimper, tears filling my eyes as complete and utter embarrassment and shame flood my senses.

“Don’t cry baby, they’ve seen you like this before.” Quaritch cooed, wiping a tear from my cheek but more hot tears spilt down my flushed skin.

“This isn’t- fair.” I sob. Yes, his and the recom’s presence had me feeling excited because they all looked so damn good. I also happened to have slept with all of them more or less so of course I would be a little attracted to them. But now, it seemed as though he knew that very well and Quaritch always managed to use the situation to his advantage.

“Never said it would be, sweet’eart.” he said, grinning. He let my arms go and I curled them around my body, managing to hide myself for a few seconds. Then I was picked up and placed onto the desk which to Quaritch’s delight was at about waist height. The room was built for Na’vi-sized soldiers, not humans. It came in handy.

I was placed on the desk, facing the others and Quaritch was standing to my right, scanning over my bare body. I instinctively crossed my legs over each other and watched his ears tip back when he saw the movements.

“You either open ‘em now or I’ll do it for you. What’s it gonna be?” he said, looking into my eyes now.

My ears are already strained all the way back and I bare my fang at him, hissing. I hated him for this. I hated the effect he had on me and how he knew exactly what to do and when to do it. I also knew I stood no chance and it made me hate him even more.

“Alright then.” he chuckled darkly, harshly grabbing my knees with both his hands and forcing my legs open. I leaned forward trying to curl myself over my body but he placed one hand on my chest and pushed me all the way back.

I lay on the desk, my head hanging off the other side with my legs opened in front of eight men whose hungry eyes were devouring the sight. I heard a groan which definitely did not come from Quaritch and I covered my hot face with my sweaty palms.

Quaritch smirked, holding my legs in place before one of his hands starts to rub my pussy.

A dark chuckle left his throat. “I thought you weren’t enjoying this Y/N.”

The teasing never stopped. He glided his fingers through my shamefully slick folds and then pushed a finger into me. When he pulled it out, he held it up for the others to see too.

Lyle muttered something which I didn’t understand but it made the Colonel grin.

“Can’t get enough, huh, you little vixen?” Quaritch said, lightly slapping my pussy. I cried out, flinching away from his touch and biting my fist.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ja mumbled, adjusting his pants. “Colonel, can I-” he started saying but was cut off.

“Forget it.” Quaritch snarled, almost hissing at Ja who leaned back on his deck and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You had your goddamn turn.” Miles adds, focusing his attention back on me. He pushed two fingers in and I whined.

“Please- it hurts.” I say, the plea being meant to ask him to stop. I was sore from yesterday but he interpreted it differently.

“You have it that bad, baby?” he scoffed, pushing his fingers back in. I gasped, trying to move away but I would just fall from the desk.

“No.” I cry out. “I can’t- do this. It still-”

“Shhh.” he hushed me, losing his tight grip and closing my legs. His hand rubbed my thigh in an oddly comforting way. He traced a tattoo on my hip that I got before joining the Marines. It made him smile. A part of old me would always be there. It marked me as a Sky Person which amused the Colonel.

He moved around the desk, now no longer standing in front of it but on the side. He pulled me up by my hips and moved me so that I was laying in front of him again.

The others were seeing me from the side, all of them sitting and watching intently on my right.

“You’ll be fine.” he said, but it was not reassuring to me. He said it as if he were waving my worries off. With the way he was looking at me, it seemed he was too distracted to properly even process my words.

He pulled my legs up and open again, tracing a hand down my thigh as he stared down at my glistening heat.

I wasn’t sure whether it hurt because of yesterday or whether I was feeling that needy, but my question was soon to be answered.

He let me go and started undoing his pants. I bent my legs and tried to cover myself in any way possible but it didn’t even make sense to me anymore. I was completely naked in front of them all once again and covering myself with my hands is pointless.

Quaritch had meanwhile undone his pants and pulled them down just enough so that his dick was out. I looked up at him and saw it. Fuck, this was going to hurt. He was big too.

I covered my face again, trying to turn to the side and away from the unwanted audience but he flipped me back on my back.

The hard desk beneath me was uncomfortable for my tail.

Quaritch pulled my hips closer to his and my legs were placed on his shoulders. I didn’t even fight it anymore. Even if I would kick him in the face, I would have to knock out another 7 soldiers to get away and then figure out how to get out of this building with others around. It wouldn’t work. I was too out of it to be able to think properly. I just wanted to be curled up in a ball and covered.

As attracted as I was to everyone in the room, I was most definitely not used to this much attention and it was shockingly overwhelming.

“Beg for it, baby. Then I promise to make you feel good.” Quaritch teased, his tail amusedly swaying behind him.

No fucking way was I doing that.

“Fuck you.” I snarl, glaring at him and trying to remove a leg from his shoulder but he held it in place. A few chuckles erupted from the soldiers seated.

“The sooner you beg, the sooner this will be over, sweetheart. I can have you layin’ here like this all day.” he adds, grinning down at me while his hand glides up and down my leg.

I groan out in frustration, my tail thudding against the desk. I stay quiet for a while, wondering whether he will give up but he doesn’t. Quaritch raises a challenging eyebrow and I huff. There was no good way out of this for me.

“Please.” I whisper, still covering my face.

“Louder.” Quaritch says, removing the hands from my flushed face.

“Please.” I repeat so that everyone can hear it.

“Please, what?” he grins, licking over his fangs and resting the side of his head on my calf that was on his shoulder.

I gulp, wanting to kill him for the words I was about to say.

“Please fuck me.” I whine, covering my mouth again as soon as the words leave my lips.

He chuckles.”Why didn’t ya just say so?”

Quaritch presses the tip of his dick against my entrance and I tense up, unsure of how it will feel.

Almost instantly, his hips snap forward and he’s pushing all of himself into me at once.

I cry out, fresh tears forming in the corners of my eyes. My hands grip the sides of the desk when I feel his abdomen press against my ass. He’s bottomed me out.

The belly bulge they pointed out last time had formed again and Quaritch peered down at it. God, did it raise his ego to be this big.

“Fuck-” I swear, whining out and clenching my eyes closed.

“You okay?” Quaritch asks with a hint of worry. His words surprise me.

“Hurts...” I whimper, biting my lip while my chest heaves.

He doesn’t move for a while, he just traces patterns on my skin until my face is no longer contorted in discomfort.

“It’ll get better.” he hushes my small cry and pulls out, before gently letting himself be engulfed again. He exhales shakily, his own needs finally being heard.

Before being able to complain or do anything else, he pulls out again and I’m flipped over. My chest presses into the cool material of the desk and my hips are now hanging off the edge while my toes barely touch the ground.

Miles almost immediately thrusts back inside and I arch my back, leaning on my forearms now. My teeth are clenched and I hiss at the feeling of the new angle.

He thrusts into me with precise and strong strokes before he stills and I feel a hand wrap around my braid. My eyes shoot open and I tense up again. I feel him run his hand down it before picking up the tip.

“No!” I shout, trying to turn around. “No- don’t do that.”

He holds me down by placing his hand on my back.

“Why not?” he teased, examining my queue. I notice that everyone is watching the small strings of nerves move around in my braid.

“It can’t be undone. It’s for life. Don’t you dare.” I threaten him, looking over my shoulder and snarling the words at him.

“Do you have some boyfriend you’ve done it with?” he asks mockingly, wondering whether I was perhaps already mated. I let my head drop down and into my arm. “Does he fuck this pussy as good as me?”

“No.” I mumble, but he hears it. It answered both questions.

The answer is like music to his ears.

“Don’t you wanna try it? I am the reason you’re alive after all.” he says, trying to hit me with some of his twisted words of truth. Then again, he was also the reason I was captured here.

I don’t answer because I’m rethinking my choices. I did meet a nice Na’vi man once, but as soon as he found out I used to be human. That ended it. It would always ruin any chance I would get. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea?

My silence shows Quaritch that I’m not protesting, so he doesn’t wait any longer.

He pulls his own braid over his shoulder and pinches the base of both out queues. I flinch and look over my shoulder, in anticipation of what is to come.

He held our queues together and the strings created a bond, shining a small white light before becoming one stable string. Both our pupils were blown wide as our senses were flooded with the feeling of being connected to each other. My eyes fluttered closed a little when I felt his arousal and he growled, grasping my hips before setting a pace again.

Quaritch was thrusting into me, hitting all spots inside me and showing attention to my body. He could now feel what felt good for me and focused on that.

My tail curled upwards and I stretched my arms out in front of me, pushing back against Miles.

He was being filled with the need to deeply breed me. Something he had never thought of before. He needed to fill me up with his cum until it was seeping out of my pussy and I couldn’t take anymore.

Never again was anyone except for him going to touch you. You were his now.

I bit my lip and with the next thrust, I moaned. He felt so good it was making my mind fuzzy.

He grinned, while breathlessly panting a little. Miles stabilised himself by holding my hips and one of his hands wrapped itself around my tail and tugging me back with every thrust.

“Shit.” I cursed, balling my fists up before pressing my chest off the desk again and arching my back while leaning against my forearms.

“That’s it. Take it baby.” Miles hisses between clenched teeth. His hips were starting to stutter every few thrusts and I knew he was as close as I was. My tail wrapped around the arm holding it and I let my head fall back, not caring about how exposed I was to the rest of the soldiers.

They were mesmerised by the sight before them and I couldn’t even focus on anything else except the way Miles was fucking me into the desk.

His hand reached back and he delivered a stinging spank to my ass, making me cry out again.

“That’s for being such a pain in the ass.” he chuckled before picking up his speed and making the desk wobble. My mouth is hanging open in pleasure and not a proper thought is able to reach my mind at this instant.

“I’m gonna fill you up now and you’re going to take it all.” He growled, leaning forwards and placing his outstretched arms on either side of my back while his hips continued to rut inside me. His fangs were bared as the primal instincts shone through both of our bodies.

I quickly nodded, needing to feel him do that otherwise I would explode.

Within the next few seconds, he thrust so hard that it pushed me over the edge. My whole body tensed and I clenched around him. Miles’ hips stilled and he buried himself as deep inside me as he could before releasing his load into my throbbing pussy.

“Fuck.” he moaned while white waves of pleasure shot through our bodies. It was twice as intense because I felt my orgasm along with his.

Our bodies relaxed against each other and I panted against the desk, dropping my head down again.

He was leaning against my angled hips and soon enough our tsaheylu’s bond disconnected and my braid fell onto my back. It was done. We were mated for life. The realisation hit me only now and I didn’t know how to feel about it.

Miles slowly straightened his posture and pulled out, tucking himself back into his pants before watching his cum flow out of my pussy. The sight was one of the best things he had seen in years.

When he looked at my limp body, he felt guilty for his actions and for forcing himself onto me.

“Give me that.” he ordered Mansk to give him my shorts and top.

I was lifted and re-dressed by Miles. My eyes scanned the room and I felt slightly ashamed. I looked down, my ears tipped back again, showing my discomfort.

Quaritch noticed it and stopped. He didn’t quite know how to make me feel better but he wasn’t going to let anyone else comfort me.

“I’m sorry.” he spoke softly, his gaze no longer intimidating me.

I hesitate to answer. “It’s okay.” I reply, even though I’m not sure it is. We were mated for life. I didn’t know what would happen now.

He smiled at my words but he could tell I wasn’t sure of them either.

“Dismissed.” he announces to his squad. “Go deal with yourselves.”

They all stood up, some grinning and looking at me before adjusting their pants a little and leaving.

The door closes behind them.

“It’ll all get better soon.” Miles says, placing a hand on my back in comfort. I look up at him, wondering what he means. But he as well isn’t sure of his words.

I nod and he embraces me. Something we have never done before. I had my head pressed against his chest while his arms cradled my upper body.

“Let me take care of you baby.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my head. The gesture makes me melt and I lean further into him, accepting his offer.

(please don't ask me to make part 3.I have no ideas for that and I promise I have so many more story ideas coming)

Tag list:

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lovekeeho @luciddasherer @misscaller06 @clora95 @mxddymay @nanamislut321 @dangerslutx @ndjhs7 @winxschester

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god-has-entered-my-body · 5 months

Text

Do you see me? - Matty Healy

A/N: okay it's sort of short and a bit shit and i played around with the dynamic so it might seem off xx thanks @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff you absolute legend for finding the titles for my blurbs by scouring the 1975's discography based off my extremely vague parameters❤️

wc: 3.5k

content warnings: matty in lingerie (again), mpind typical cursing, bondage (handcuffs), thigh riding, cumplay, begging, switch! Matty, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, matty being a knob as per use

Your head is throbbing, the beat of the shitty house music still echoing in your skull even twenty minutes later. Matty is hanging on your arm, weighing you down as he rambles on about how shit the drinks were, and that you shouldn't have bothered going out in the first place. He was right, the diluted alcohol and trashy EDM ruining a perfectly good sunday night, better spent at an actual club instead of some random blokes house.

Matty’s hands grip your back as you push the front door open, keeping his balance as the platform boots he had borrowed from you made it quite difficult to walk normally. The light in the foyer automatically comes on, the fancy motion sensors painting the space in a warm glow, casting a shadow over the unorganized pile of shoes on the floor.

His hands run up your sides as you toe your heels off, tugging your dress down when it rides up, lace scratching the skin of your thighs. Your choice of attire this evening was a tight bodycon dress, red lace details adorning the neckline and bottom hem, a pretty contrast against the black fabric, clinging to your body like a second skin. Matty’s mouth fell open when he saw you slip it on, adjusting its straps in the floor length mirror in your bedroom.

“Look so pretty tonight, love this dress on you.” he mumbled as his eyes raked up and down your body, drinking you in.

The party was a flop, both of you promising never to go to that specific house ever again, also deciding to better stay clear of the friend that had extended the invite.

Since you arrived, his hands were always on some part of your body, whether they were wrapped around your waist, resting on your lower back, or intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing small circles into the back of your hand.

Matty leans down to press a kiss to your glossed lips, a peck quickly transforming into his fingers weaving into your hair, pulling you against him. You give into his touch, your bodies flush as he pushes you backwards in the direction of the living room, your knees hitting something wooden.

“Just- yeah, this is better.” he says as he seats you down onto his posh little decorative chair, the wood smooth against the back of your thighs. Matty’s favorite piece of furniture was a oak wood sitting room chair, the armrests cared to look like trees and flowers, painted in pretty pastels. You always found it a bit morbid, seeing as a tree had died to create it, and painting its living counterpart onto a corpse wasn't really to your taste.

His lips are hot against yours, tongue licking into your mouth with fervor as you sigh into the kiss, letting your eyes droop closed. Your breathing is heavy, chest heaving against his as he leans over you, dominating the kiss. It felt odd, him above you while you let him kiss you, not the other way around. Lost in your thoughts, you don't even notice one of his hands stop touching you.

The click is impossible loud as you feel a cool sensation on the skin of your wrist. Your eyes snap open, landing on Matty first before dragging down to your left hand, a pair of handcuffs coming into view. It takes a few seconds for it to actually click. Handcuffs. Matty had handcuffs, and they were on you, also on the armrest. Wait, what?

Matty chuckles at your confusion, taking the opportunity to reach into his back pocket, pulling out another pair, snapping them onto your right wrist before you could even react properly.

“What the fuck- Matty?” you sound a bit panicked, tugging at the restraints, not really understanding the purpose of his actions. That was, until you see a filthy smirk spread onto your boyfriend's face.

“Let me out, I swear to fucking god. I don't care what you are playing at.” you resort to immediately throwing around threats, the feeling of being trapped overwhelming you. All he does is watch you struggle, a mischievous expression on his face.

He presses a finger to your lips, shushing you condescending as cures spill from your lips, the metal of the handcuffs harshly digging into your skin.

“In a bind?” he taunts, his hand stroking your face as you glare at him, not liking the lack of control you possessed. It felt strange, your eyes searching his for a hint of humor, maybe this was a prank? A crude joke to rile you up, his incessant need for attention always finding new, innovative ways to get it from you.

“Fuck you, what do you want?” you spit, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“There's so many things I want, but let's start with a simple task first.” he twirls a strand of his hair around his finger, pouting at you. Annoyance bubbles up inside of you, threatening to overflow.

“Be nice to me, won't you? I’ve put in so much effort into your seduction, give me some credit.” His definition of effort was distracting you long enough to snap two pairs of expensive looking handcuffs onto your wrists, but it was more elaborate than his usual routine, which was constantly being nuisance until you gave in.

“Seduction? More like trickery, you dickhead.” he winces at your insult, clutching his chest over his heart, playing up his offense.

He tuts at you, mimicking exactly what you did whenever he mouthed off at you. The lightbulb in your head finally clicks on.

“You could have just told me you wanted attention.” your expression darkens as his eyes dart around, acting caught. That couldn't really be it, right? This was way to much extravagance, even for Matty

“That's it, isn't it?” he waves a hand to dismiss your words and you scoff, bewildered and intrigued, wondering how long he was going to keep this up for until he finally gave up, letting you free. He spins around on the heel of his foot, hips swaying as took a few steps away from you

“Watch me.” His voice is thick, sultry, different.

He faces you, his whole body shamelessly on display for you to gawk at. A thin white button down covers his chest, the first four buttons already open, showing traces of his tattoos. The leather trousers he wears look painted onto him, clinging to his legs, the waist of them so low it was obscene.

His fingers work at the remaining buttons as you drink him in, unabashedly staring at his lower half, the leather barely concealing his growing erection.

The faint trail of hair under his belly button becomes visible as the shirt slips down his shoulders, pooling onto the ground next to his feet. His hands run over his skin, feeling himself up while you sit exactly three feet away, unable to do anything about it but watch, the sight driving you insane.

He had never denied you like this before, always being ready and willing for you to touch him, feel him, graze your nails over his cock as his back arched into you, begging for relief. It had always been the other way around, Matty on his knees, pleading for your hands, mouth, anything.

“You're so rough with me.” His voice is whiny as he makes eye contact with you, trailing his fingers over the myriad of hickeys and bite marks that littered his neck, all various shades of purple and red, some faded more than others.

“So aggressive, turns me on.” he breathes harshly, pressing down onto a particularly prominent mark, hissing at the pain that radiated from it.

“Does it now?” you say, fighting to keep your composure.

“Yeah.” he parts his lips provocatively, throwing his head back as his hands leave his throat, running through his tangled mess of curls instead.

“Is that why you wouldn't leave me alone at the party?” you try to keep your answers short and simple, attempting to conceal the blatant arousal clouding your mind. Your thighs clench together, your dress riding up slightly.

“Among other things.”

You swallow as he takes two steps towards you, his movements fluid and sensual, the look in his eye unrecognizable.

His hand suddenly grabs your face, squeezing it harshly between his fingers. Your lips pucker, a bit of drool falling onto his digits, and you can't do anything but take it, a foreign feeling taking over your body.

“Gorgeous.” he mutters, slipping his thumb past your parted lips. Breathless, you let him explore your mouth, saliva pooling on your tongue as he presses down.

It all feels surreal, the way Matty just does, not once asking for permission. You can see that familiar glimmer in his eye, an unconscious urge to submit, to serve still present, even if his actions tell a completely different story.

“Do not take your eyes off me.” you nod mindlessly, like you’d ever dream of missing a second of what was happening in front of you.

His slender fingers toy with the zipper of his trousers, and he smirks at the way you lunge forward, promptly hindered by the cuffs still around your wrists. You seem to keep forgetting that fact, your entire body on fire as he makes delicious eye contact with you, unbuttoning the leather.

You stare, entranced by his movements, slow and deliberate, yet still never letting you get used to one singular thing. He pushes the trouser down, a hint of his underwear visible over the waistband.

Green catches your eye, and it's not until his fingers reach to snap the fabric against his skin that you realize what he’s wearing.

“Let me out.” you warn, breathless. The panties you had eyed at that store, the ones he had put into the basket and paid for with a wink.

“No.”

“LET ME OUT.” you pull violently, yanking at the metal, hoping it would snap off or break or something, anything to get your hands on Matty. He chuckles at your reaction, raising his eyebrows as you cease your struggle

“Where's the fun in that?” he says, palming himself through the underwear, moaning at the relief. You whine, rapidly tapping your foot against the floor when you realize that your efforts are futile. Leave it to Matty to buy handcuffs made out of titanium, even if the pink color of them made them look cheap.

“Matty, let me out- you can't just- not when you look like that.” you choke, not knowing where to look as he sets his hands on your shoulders, grinning wildly, the expression on your face satisfying him.

“Relax, let it happen.” he coos into your ear, his legs moving to straddle you in the spacious chair.

His lips catch yours in a passionate kiss, your teeth clashing against each other in a mess of spit and tongue. You moan pathetically into his mouth, your mind clouded in lust and desperation, begging him to uncuff you.

You let yourself be kissed, his mouth slowly moving down your jaw, nipping the skin with his teeth, leaving light scratch marks in their wake.

He alternates between sucking and biting your neck, the sensation making you dizzy with need, your thighs squeezing together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“What do you feel?” he asks, pulling away to get a good look at your face. His eyes dart over your face, drinking in the mess he’d reduced you to.

“What?”

“You’re not in control, I have you. What do you feel?” he breathes against your ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth. Your breath hitches, a familiar heat spreading throughout your body, your nipples hardening under your dress as he cups your tits.

“It’s-” you gasp, being cut off by his erection grinding down onto your bare thigh.

“Good?” he finishes, the words dragged out as the pleasure blooms inside of him, all the blood in his head rushing south.

“Amazing.” you know he cant help himself, and you tense your leg under him, feeling his cock twitch against you.

His arms wrap around your neck as he ruts against your thigh, moaning into your ear, holding nothing back. You whisper small praises back, encouraging him even if you don't want to, the blissed out look on his face making you crack a prideful smile.

“Feels so good taking you like this, can't even put me in my place, can you?” he mumbles as the wet patch on the front of his panties grows larger, precum leaking onto your skin.

“You're fucking finished once I get out of this.” you threaten, fists clenching and unclenching around the armrests.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he deliberately pitches his voice, letting out performative moans as his hips stutter, the tip of his cock brushing against a rough bit of lace.

“God- fuck, you were onto something with these.” he snaps the waistband of his panties, hissing at the sting.

“Feels amazing, especially if it's you I'm rubbing up against.” his hand strokes your face, his chest and cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as you eye him up and down, your lips slightly parted.

“It’d feel so much better if you’d let me go.” you try, knowing it's futile to fight him. He pretends to ponder, stilling against your thigh as his eyes narrow in deep thought. You knew better than to believe it was a genuine debate, his filthy smirk returning when you realize he wasn't going to release you anytime soon.

He laughs in your face, borderline delirious as he grinds against you, whimpering dirty strings of curses into your ear, his breath hot and intoxicating.

He uses you to get himself off, feeding off of the undivided attention you give him, your eyes never leaving his body.

His moans grow louder as his cock leaks all over you, his panties completely ruined by now.

“F-fuck, i’m so close. Wanna watch me cum? See how good you make me feel- shit.”

Your pupils are blown out, eyes wide as you watch him cum with a choked groan, spilling all over your thigh, sullying the bottom part of your pretty dress.

Matty’s breathing is erratic, curses falling from his lips as he shakes from the force of his orgasm, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you squirm desperately.

“Are you satisfied?” you mumble, slightly fucked off at the fact that you hadn’t been able to touch him at all, that he had gotten there all on his own.

“Very.” his voice is muffled by your hair, his hands trailing up to cup your tits, groping them with a glint in his eye. You shiver under his touch, pleasure blooming from your chest.

“I could've done it better.” he chuckles at your words, pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your mouth.

“I know, but it was worth it seeing you all riled up.” you roll your eyes in annoyance, hips bucking upwards against the weight of him, searching for any sort of relief.

“Are you desperate?” he coos into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek as his fingers toy with the hem of your dress, covered in his cum.

You scoff at him, trying to calm down and steady your breath as he drops to his knees, nuzzling his face into your lap, peering up at you.

He parts his lips, tongue lapping up the remnants of his orgasm, licking you clean. You feel the world spin around you, every single part of you screaming at him to you fucking do something.

“Please.” you force out, his hand parting your legs further.

“Oh?” there's a hint of victory in his voice, knowing he’s won. You were giving in, scooting to the edge of your seat, anything to get closer to him.

His fingers push the lacey hem of your dress, your damp underwear visible against your aching cunt.

“You’re so wet, I can see it from here.” you blush, moving to close your legs. He stops your attempt, digging his nails into your skin.

“Keep them spread, m’gonna make you feel so good.”

“I need you, please Matty fuck-” his palms grip your thighs as he mouths at your cunt, licking the fabric of your panties, occasionally grazing his teeth other your clothed clit.

You whimper and moan, bucking into his mouth as he slips them off with his teeth, winking at you when you make eye contact.

He balls your underwear up and throws it off to the side, forgotten, in the corner. Faced with your glistening core, he licks up your slit, relishing in the way you clench your walls around his tongue, getting lost in the taste of you.

“It tastes so good, I could spend my whole life right here.” you can only whimper in response, the metal of the handcuffs around your wrists digging into your skin, the dull pain only amplifying the pleasure of Matty sucking your clit between his lips.

Wet sounds fill the room as he lets you grind against his face, taking back a sliver of the control he had ripped away from you. You feel lightheaded, waves of pleasure washing over you as he doubles his efforts, almost as if trying to apologize for everything he had done to you up until this point.

A particularly loud moan spills from your lips as he latches onto your clit once again, letting his teeth into the mix. It's slightly painful, but only adds to the overwhelming sensation, the elastic band in your core tightening more and more. He smirks and you feel it on your cunt, a filthy look on his face when he realizes you're close, only needing a little push to get you over that delicious edge.

“Gonna cum for me? Make my face all dirty?” His voice is muffled, but you hear him loud and clear, his nails digging deep as he buries his tongue into your cunt, feeling you twitch and convulse, your orgasm so close you could taste it.

“Oh god, i’m so close- fuck.”

“Cum all over my face, paint me yours.” he moans, sucking your clit between his wet lips, feeling you tense up, fingers clutching the armrests they were bound to for dear life.

Your vision whites out for a few moments as you violently cum, thrashing and gasping for air as the pleasure washes over you in stages, Matty working you through it.

It takes a few moments for you to regain your position, Matty’s eyes peering up at you from his position on the ground, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. He licks his lips provocatively, moaning as the remnants of you hits his tongue, sickly sweet.

He moves to uncuff you, your wrists an angry red from the fight you had put up earlier in the night. His mouth peppers light kisses over the bruises, quote un-quote “kissing it better”. It was endearing, watching him take such good care of you, even if you did insist that you were perfectly fine.

“See how good it feels to let go?” he asks, trailing his fingers up your bare arm.

You nod, your hair sticking to your forehead as you breathe shallowly, completely exhausted. His expression is one of love, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re so pretty like this, all fucked out. Finally I get to see the other perspective.” you chuckle, his words ringing true

This was the first time in your relationship the roles had been even slightly reversed, him restraining you instead of the other way round. His cocky and confident nature, one that usually crumbled after skilled touches and a few whispered words, stayed present the entire way through, stripping you of the control you were used to.

You were never opposed to him taking on the more dominant role, it was just that neither the situation, nor the opportunity had ever presented itself, with Matty always being more naturally submissive, dropping to his knees in front of you at the flip of a switch.

You smile at him fondly, delicate fingers reach out to cup his face softly, mindlessly swiping at the skin

“You’ll be seeing a lot more of it if it feels like that.” he sniggers, his eyes crinkling up as laughter fills your ears.

“Does this mean I get to take pictures too?” he sounds so hopeful, making it impossible to just say ‘no’. You huff instead, a smile spreading onto your face, telling him all he needed to know.

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lenaspeaksthings · 2 months

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Do you see me? - Matty Healy

A/N: okay it's sort of short and a bit shit and i played around with the dynamic so it might seem off xx thanks @dh--ii you absolute legend for finding the titles for my blurbs by scouring the 1975's discography based off my extremely vague parameters❤️