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mo-aiki · 3 months

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One-sided Love Exist... (Yandere Fiancé x F. Reader)

Summary: You have been in love with your fiancé, but all you know is that he isn't in love with you until you do something about it.

Notes: I got this inspiration from @mayulla, their story is here. Also, I might or might not do a part 2 for this story so wait on that

Warning: fake love, forced love, obsession, I don't condone these behaviors, I just write it.

Love.

Something you have always wished for to happen to you. All of the love stories you have read. You wished to be the princess saved by her knight or to be a princess who saves the one she loves. That was all you wanted. A knight or a prince in shining armor. That's where your fiancé came in.

A duke's son. Your fiancé, Alaric de Caius. He had seemed to fit the mold, perfectly. He looked regal and handsome with his black hair and dark blue eyes. You were only 9 when you had met him, but you couldn't help but smile when you first saw him.

Overtime you had absolutely fallen in love with him. He was a man of morals, he believe in the same things as you of what was right and wrong, he was academically talented, he was athletically talented, and he treated people around him the same whether or not they held a title.

A wonderful man.

But the problems arose when you had seen he had never paid attention towards you.

He never looked you way, seemed to say anything towards you, or seem to acknowledge you at all.

"Good morning Alaric!"

He wouldn't look.

You didn't understand why he ignored you. His indifference towards you, hurt. You didn't know if it was your ego that was hurting or it was truly your heart that was hurting, but something was in pain. But you didn't give up! Both of you were bound to get married to each other, one day!

Often talking to him first, soon enough he responded.

Bringing sweets such as cookies or sweet bread from the kitchen. Watching him eat it with no signs of disgust, might have made your day.

But you must also strive hard too! To be worthy of being a Duchess, you must help him by studying, taking up hobbies such as perfecting painting, embroidery and writing poems that have deep meanings. You must also know how to manage a household, so you asked your father if you could learn how to manage the servant's wages and everything going on in the household.

Everything you did was for him.

You did not partake in gossip with your bestest of friends, you didn't spread malicious rumors about someone, and you tried not to do the most selfish thing if there was a selfless option. Your friends, love you but saw you in pain. "Why do you do these stressful things (y/n)?" they would constantly ask.

"Because I am going to be future Duchess one day, I must prepare!" You would say cheerfully.

Alina Thompson.

Her family was new money. Her father was a merchant who was able to strike gold in selling a once thought, rare ore. Opening trades with the east, she has risen to become the daughter or Baron Thompson.

Your friends didn't like her. One of them saying, "There is something off about her..." and another saying, "Why does she look at Duke Caius like that..."

You had brought it up to Alaric one day. He said there was, "Nothing to worry about, she is just an acquaintance.", and at first you didn't worry, heck you even befriended her. She was pretty. Her hair, long and blonde, her eyes a bright green color like emeralds, and her smile the brightest you have ever seen. She often wore pink and you did as well. But she always seemed to not get along with your friends after a few meetings. Or any noble women in fact. She had always stirred the pot with the other women in high society, supposedly acting different as if she had 2 different personalities in front of others. But she had always gotten along with the men. They spoke high praises of her. From her looks to personality. She even had admirers of her own. She was perfect, but most women disliked her. But you didn't think anything of it.

Until the day of the royal ball.

You saw with your very own eyes. Alaric's arm, being held by her's. She had the brightest, most shameless smile that day. All the men looked uncomfortable while the women were shocked. It was no secret that you and Alaric were engaged. And it was definitely no secret that you were in love with him.

They danced together. They wore matching outfits. Even the flowers on both of their corsages were the same. He had smiled at her as they were dancing. He gave her, her first dance of high society at her first ball, a royal one in fact. There was no way he had no idea what he meant by his actions. Your heart shattered as your friends got mad at both of them.

"Why that sly fox! How could she betray your kindness like this?!"

"(y/n)! If you need to I can kill him myself!"

"No!" you had quietly yelled out.

You friends looked at you, worried on their faces. "(b/s/f #1), (b/s/f #2), I need to...go..."

You ran away towards the royal garden, letting your tears to flow down.

Once you got home, you destroyed the books, the gifts he gave you and finally sat down on the floor and cried you heart out.

Your heart had shattered that day, nothing felt like it was going to fix it. It felt like the end of the world.

The next day came, and you holed yourself up in your room.

Your bedroom door would not open. Nothing will work. Your father was worried, your friends, pestered at you, and the servants knock and check up on you as well. But even though you knew all these people cared, you truly only wanted one person to come and see you, Alaric.

You don't know if you were a masochist or not, but you did want answers.

Soon, one of the maids came in. "Leave me alone..." you mumbled in your pillow.

"No. Duke Caius is here to visit you. So I must get you ready, young lady."

You looked up at the maid as she chuckled. "What's so funny?" you asked almost like a pouting child.

"Your eyes are puffy my lady. If you do not want the Duke to notice it, I suggest you get ready, now."

You pouted as you got up.

The next thing you knew, you had seen Alaric. His perfectly combed over hair, his eyes, calm, and the placement of his lapels, in order as followed. You had bowed your head down slightly, as he sat down at the table.

You didn't even bother looking at him. If you did, you didn't think you could bear it. It was an embarrassing night for you. All you did was look at your tea, slowly stirring the sugar cube, looking at it and spacing out in the process.

"(y/n)?"

You looked up. This was the first time he had ever called out your name. He had always referred to you as Lady (l/n), out of formality, but he has never called out your name like you do his.

"Did you hear what I said?"

You took a moment and shook your head. "No, I'm sorry..."

"That's okay, I can say it again."

Why did your heart tug at this? You felt yourself being anxious for what he wanted to say. But first you wanted the answer to why he brought Alina to the royal ball the other night.

"I had brought out Lady Thompson to the ball a few nights ago, because of her father. He had wanted to make sure his daughter secured an escort for her first royal ball. He had insisted I had better escort her, otherwise she wouldn't come."

An excuse.

"I helped her father find the rare ore that had made him Baron. I must help him again."

Lies.

"So that's your excuse..." you mumbled out of your mouth.

He looked at you, his eyes were still. He had no emotion after what you had just said. "(y/n), it's the truth."

"Lies. We are engaged, but my debutant ball and first royal ball, you didn't escort me at all."

You remember it well. He had said he was busy, and you thought nothing of it, because he wouldn't escort or dance with anyone else anyways.

"When we had our first dance, you didn't even look at me."

It broke your heart that night when you both finally had that first dance you had been waiting for, only to be sad when he didn't smile, look or seemed to be enjoying it in any way.

"I had wanted us to get matching outfits, but you held it off saying, 'you hadn't gotten measured yet'."

He would get measured for an outfit for another woman, but not you? His own fiancé?

You felt nothing but anger now towards him. "Was it a waste of my time to devote it all towards you? I know your favorite snacks, colors, meal, drink, what to do as duchess..."

You felt like you were about to cry again, but tried to hold it in. "WAS IT ALL FOR NOTHING?!" your hands slammed the table as you felt your tears coming down your face as you looked at him.

Hoping he would say it wasn't in vain. That all of these things you did for him, would mean something.

"I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."

You couldn't believe you had ever loved this man.

You immediately went back inside, and into your room to cry once more.

Alaric has never needed anyone close to him.

He never understood you and your stupid antics to get closer towards him. From bringing snacks, to gifting the books he so wanted, to talking to him way to often.

He had an alright childhood. His father was sick and his mother was dead from childbirth, so he needed to become duke heir at a young age. Relying on himself to make the right or wrong decisions while his father's health deteriorated overtime.

His father wanted him to get married to his close friend, Marquis (l/n), so he arranged the engagement before his death, and after his death when he was 15, he kept it on because it was one of his father's final wishes. To see their families united.

But sometimes he couldn't stand (y/n). When he first met her, he had no opinions of her, other than the fact that she was nothing more than a clumsy girl trying to get his attention.

She was trying to live out fairytale romances through him. She had wanted him to be her knight in shining armor. And he didn't care for it.

He ignored her until she kept on pestering him.

Soon, they did their small talks.

He ignored the food she had gave him.

Until he ate it because he was hungry and it was his favorites.

He ignored her all throughout his childhood, because he never needed her as much as he did. He saw her as pathetic, but he couldn't help but fuel her pathetic attempts to get him to love her.

He did didn't need her. He didn't need her at all.

Plus, she was well liked. Both women and men liked her. But sometimes those men that liked her too much got on his nerves to the point of threatening them into silence. She didn't need him, she wanted him. And he didn't need her as well.

But he thought he felt something when he met Alina for the first time. But later, he realized it was nothing more than curiosity. But whenever he was around (y/n), there was always a feeling that he didn't know what it was, but always put it off, until it came creeping onto him whenever he was with Alina.

It was clear she was jealous of (y/n) and her life, so she had tried to mimic her. Her cheery attitude, beautiful smile, and her happy-go-lucky demeanor, even though he could tell that she was nothing more than hollow shell of an impression. She did all these things so that he could pay attention to her. But Alina was worse than (y/n).

Her personality and character are terrible.

She always seemed to get into fights with the other women. Whether petty drama or something a tad bit more serious. She had always seem to never get along with them. Unlike (y/n).

She was terrible at any financial things. Counting money properly, distributing money equally, and figuring out the budget. Unlike (y/n)

She had always seemed to look at others as if she was better than them. Often subtly bragging a new pendant, earrings, bracelet, shoes, dress, or hair accessories. Unlike (y/n)

Her tea was awful to drink. She always stepped on someone's toes for no good reason. Her embroidery was lackluster. Her paintings, a clear imitation. Unlike (y/n).

He remembered a time where (y/n)'s tea was bitter, when she stepped on someone's feet while dancing, when her paintings were dull, and when she had a hard time managing money. It was absolutely a clumsy and nerve-racking time. But slowly, it had shown improvement, unlike Alina's tea.

All of these hobbies that Alina had picked up and all of her personal quirks have cause him to realize one thing.

He would never look her way.

He picked Alina because he thought he could finally drive (y/n) away from her antics and say he is not interested in her at all.

When he went to the royal ball and was dancing with Alina, all he could ever think of was how (y/n) would react in the same situation. Her bright smile, cheerful eyes and glowing aura would all be very lovely. He couldn't help but unconsciously smile during the dance, and it seemed to have fueled Alina's determination to take her down.

But now he wonders why he had those thoughts during the dance with Alina.

She had holed up in her manor ever since that royal ball.

Alaric didn't see her. No letter, no snacks, no anything. Nothing had came. He should be elated. Happy. Excited. Joyful.

But all he felt was a big hole. A big empty hole somewhere in his body.

He had thought he had heard her all over the place. "Alaric. You need to stop overworking yourself to death! You might get sick!"

"It's none of your concerns, Lady (l/n)."

"Huh?"

He looked up from his paperwork, only to see his secretary looking at him, confused? "What did you say, Your Grace?"'

He looked down at his paperwork. "Nothing of note."

It happened again when he was reading through the manor's ledgers. "Can I help you with that Alaric? I'm very good with ledgers!"

"It is fine Lady (l/n)."

"Your Grace?"

Once again, he looked up only to see his butler, looking at him confused.

He felt like he was going insane.

He had developed a high fever one day from overworking. His butler called in the family's doctor, and the doctor said to take a break today.

But his fever kept on running, and the maids didn't know what to do. They gave him water that was too hot, his body kept on sweating, and they gave him food too salty for his condition. They were all incompetent when he was sick all of the sudden. And to top it off, his secretary still needed him to do paperwork for the estate.

During his time with his fever, he unconsciously only thought to see one person. (y/n).

He had wanted her to be by his side when he was sick. To take care of him and to see him recover. He wanted her to scold at him for overworking. He wanted to see her happy after he did recover from this fever. He had wanted to see her, no, he felt like he needed to see her.

He slowly opened his eyes as he was asleep for a bit. He thought he saw her in his groggy state. "...(y/n)..?"

Only to finally see clearly. It was Alina. And she looked pissed, but he was even more pissed. "How dare you! How dare you call out the name of that woman when I'm here?!"

He got up and yelled. "GUARDS!"

She got mad. "Oh, now you're calling the guards?! I came here to help you! And this is what I get?!"

He looked at her with contempt. "How did you know I was sick?"

She looked anxious. "The butler told me! He contacted me with a letter! Look!"

She pulled out a messily handwritten letter as people came up towards his room. His secretary and butler came to his side. "Who is this?" his secretary asked.

Alaric's head was banging, but managed to respond. "Lady Thompson. I do not know how she got here."

Alina looked scarred as the secretary called a maid to call the guards. "How did you get in here Lady Thompson?"

"I got here because the butler told me to come here because His Grace is sick!"

The butler looked confused. "I do not recall writing a letter to anyone."

Alina got mad. "Yes you did! I have the evidence!"

She held her letter as the secretary grabbed it out of her hands. "Butler, is this your handwriting?"

The butler fixed his glasses and shook his head. "I do not write this sloppily, even when writing fast."

Alina got even more mad as the guard got up the stairs. "Your Grace?"

"Take her away, and make sure she never sets foot in the estate again."

"Wha..? HEY!" The guards took Alina while she protested. All the servants went back to work as his secretary looked at him. "I will investigate where that letter came from, Your Grace."

Alaric looked at the ceiling as he started to lay down in his bed. "There is no need. But do investigate how she got in here and how she knew. We might have a stalker on our hands if I'm not careful..."

His secretary nodded. "Yes Your Grace, I hope you recover quickly, soon."

All he could do is stare up to the ceiling. Thinking. If (y/n) had done this, maybe he wouldn't had been as mad as he was back there. Maybe he would had enjoyed her trying to fumble out a response of how she knew he was sick. Maybe he would had enjoyed her antics of trying to cure him of his fever.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he slowly fell back asleep, dreaming.

When he had gotten better after 3 days, he immediately went to the (l/n) estate. He didn't know why, but he needed to go there after his fever.

He was led to the garden as he waited for her to get ready. Then he looked around. The garden was filled with flowers. Pink, white, purple, and blue flowers seemed to be her favorite. The servants brought out her favorite tea set. A pink and white ceramic one. He has only seen it every time she had hosted her friends. She only brought out the other tea sets with him.

She looked different. She looked less lively. Her skin looked pale, her eyes a bit puffy and her hands fiddling with the tea cup, nervously.

He had only brought up his purpose at being in at the royal ball with Alina, when she started talking about his shortcomings in their relationship.

How he didn't accompany her to her first ball, didn't look at her for their first dance, and how he always gave an excuse for not wearing matching outfits.

But something came out of his mouth when talking to her. "I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."

He felt annoyed at her behavior. She got too clingy and annoying now. Bringing up insignificant things. She got annoying in this very moment.

She soon ran away as he left the (l/n) estate.

He wanted to go home and rid his memories of her immature behavior. Hoping that her behavior won't continue again.

A/N: I should do a part 2. But you'll have to wait a while.

#yandere x reader #yandere childhood friend #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere duke #yandere duke x reader #x f reader

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gloxk · 7 months

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Please give us sum eren & armin toxic hc Like armin and eren would be two different types of toxic. Ex!boyfriend eren blowing ur back out n sending it to ur bf or whoever ur talking to n ex!boyfriend armin not being able to take you talking to someone else so he fucks you a party or smth idk go crazy. 🤰🏾.

“Yeah my ex is crazy.”

A/N: No bc they are two completely different types of toxic. Like idk how to explain it? I js feel like eren is the type of ex to be petty and trifling. But armin..omg..armin goes off the fucking deep end. But i love my lil psychos🤭.

WARNING!: A lil fluff , toxic behavior, unhealthy relationships, smut, unprotected s*x, Blackmailing, Mentions of offing someone, obsession, controlling, plus other things . +17 mdni

EREN! Please for the love of god don’t let Eren find out you fucking with someone else. This man will go from nonchalant to crazy. “Oh word? This what we doing?”. He disregards the fact yall broke up a whole month ago.

He would definitely blow up your phone after seeing a post on instagram. “Who is he?” & “He fuck you better then me?”. Oh and please don’t tell him yes. Because let me warn you. He will be right there at that door knocking.

“You know you fucking lyin. But ight we gon see.” He hung up the phone and you laughed at him. Who gave this man an ego? Did he really think he was the only man with good dick?

You were confused when you heard a knock on your door but to your surprise, it was eren. “What the fuck?” he pushed right passed you walking into your apartment. “Nah, don’t fucking play with me y/n.” You could tell he was pissed just by his voice.

This man wasted no time bending you over the couch and fucking you right there.

“Nobody could fuck you better the me.” He grabbed a fists full of your hair pulling you up to his mouth.“You belong to me. Don’t ever let me find out there’s someone other than me fucking you like this.” and to be quite frank, nobody could fuck you like eren.

Eren talked you through the whole thing. He knew he was rough with you, but god he couldn’t help it. So that’s why he praised you for taking his dick so well <3.

He took out his phone and pressed record. His hard thrust drove lewd moans from your lips. “Fuck right there!” you screamed every time his hips slapped your ass. He made sure he got glimpse of your face so the guy knew it was you. He made sure you screamed his name just to prove who you belonged to.

You got so many miss calls while eren fucked you to sleep. Every time ole boy called eren went faster. <3

You woke up alone, your bed empty. Your phone notifications were through the roof. Over 100 notifications from that guy. It was crazy. But a simple text from eren stuck out. “Let me hear word about you fucking w some again. Next time ima put em in a casket.”

You weren’t sure if he was joking or not. But one thing you did know was he made every threat a promise. And he always kept his promises.

ARMIN! Lawd, you let armin find out you even thought about some one else fucking you, it was over.

This man went full psychotic when word got to him about you talking to someone guy. Apparently you were at a party grinding all up against him.

The first thing armin did was collect every drop of information he had on this guy. His home address, His mother’s facebook, His phone number, Job number. He knew too much on the fucker who decided to touch his pretty “girlfriend”.

It pissed him off, how dare you try to replace him. He blew up your phone to the point it crashed. “That’s so fucking cute, y/n. You think that you can just go fuck some other guy?” , “Please don’t make me do something crazy.” . The crazy part was you didn’t even fuck the guy, he was just fucking crazy. He always assumed you were cheating for some reason.

When you didn’t answer his calls he pulled up expeditiously. if you didn’t answer within the 30 minute window he wouldn’t wait to show up to your door.

“Y/n open this goddamn door.” He banged on the door. It was 2 am- oh yeah he knew you had work later, he didn’t care.

As soon as you open the door an argument ensued. “Pick up the fucking phone when I call you y/n” He yelled at you slamming the door behind him. “You ain’t my fucking boyfriend Armin. Ion gotta do shit.”

He never made you regret your words so fast. His nails dug into your hips as his pace increased. “Ain’t yo fucking boyfriend huh? Then why you letting me fuck you raw?”

Your bed was a mess after he made you cum over and over again. After he was done all you could do was mumble incoherently ‘Nobody is better then you’. He was rough but his after care made up for it <3.

He kissed your forehead before he nuzzled into your chest. “You’re the best I ever had.” he soon fell asleep after those words left his mouth.

I love my cute lil crazy guys <3

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aajjks · 1 year

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loser ≠ lover (m)

synopsis. He wants you so much, even if you’ll destroy him, because he’d let you.

fem reader x yandere oc.

warnings. yándere, öbsession, masochïstic tendencies, mentions of physical, emotional abûse, unhealthy thöughts, èxtreme obsession, obsessive thoughts.

note. MY FIRST OC!!!!! UHHH IM SO SO NERVOUS BECAUSE IM NEW TO THIS KIND OF THING BUT I HOPE YOU ALL WILL GIVE HIM A CHANCE. HES ALL YOURS TO INTERACT WITH, send fanart?!?? Please I’d be honoured, send asks talk to him!!!! 😭💌

second instalment x

loser boy who worships the ground you walk on!

Who licks off the dirt that trails off your shoes as you walk down the school hallway.

loser boy who is so obsessed with you that he can’t breathe if he can’t get a look at you.

loser boy who can’t feel anything but love for you, passion that pumps so hard in his veins for you, who can’t say a word without stuttering except your name.

Loser boy who follows you around like a lost puppy, who doesn’t care if your ‘friends’ cuss at him, if you call him a dirty dog.

At least you’re talking to him! God, he’s so lucky!

“Goodness fuck off! You sicko! How’d you find my address!?” You spit at him, your eyes filled so beautifully with hues of disgust, your luscious lips curled up in annoyance. He smiles so brightly at you, God, you’re so beautiful.

“O-Oh please! C-Call me more names! P-Please!” He begs, on his knees, his raven hair falling on his grey orbs, his lashes wet as he begs you.

You feel embarrassed, He notices, yet he feels his heart burning from the need to hear you insult him.

It’s been too long.

And that’s why he’s here, at 1 am right infront of your door, begging.

“Fucking masochist! You’re so disgusting! FUCK OFF.” The way your shoe hits his jaw, makes him moan out your name like a prayer.

You groan in anger, he gets up again, you struggle against him, your nails scratch him, the burn feels euphoric, he missed you so bad.

“You don’t understand huh?!? LEAVE. ME. ALONE.” You try to get away from him, the boy doesn’t let you, instead he grabs your legs, wrapping his arms around them, “n-no please! take me back please!” He’s sobbing.

Yet his heart loves the thrill of your resistance, it turns him on so much, his pants feel so painfully tight, “NEVER! You ARE NOT GOOD FOR ANYTHING! You are of no use to me anymore!” you keep insulting him, it makes him feel so relieved.

You hadn’t been talking to him for so long, he almost went insane without you.

“Y-YN p-please kiss me!” He stands up, “p-please!”

“FUCK OFF Ezekiel!” His mind blurs.

His tongue lulls out and he whimpers as you finally utter his name out, it sounds so good, so erotic from your mouth, His name was made for you to call out.

He is so obsessed with you.

“S-Say it again… p-please!” Ezekiel stands up, his knees wobble, the stormy grey eyes are full of lust, craziness.

You roll your eyes at him again, it only makes him so much more excited, he loves your rejection so much, he always has.

Because it’s a unique bond between you, you treat him special, he knows.

“fuck off weirdo.” Ezekiel doesn’t say anything but pushes you against the door of your house, “YN…” he brings his face so much closer to you, he feels scared yet thrilled.

You’re so unpredictable, it makes him shake with anticipation.

“P-Please don’t leave- don’t-don’t abandon me! I-I’m sorry I disappointed you b-but he deserved it.” You raise your eyebrows at his ‘apology’

“No. Get away from me you sick freak! You had no right to beat him up like that, who are you huh? My boyfriend? Please…” you scoff, “you’re nothing to me Ezekiel, absolutely nothing.” You spit again at him.

God.

“You’re just a pathetic man who gets me off. You’re just a pastime you get that?” You point your finger to his chest.

“Y’know you’re lucky you have a big dick and a pretty face. sometimes you’re obedient too and you make good punching bag.” You laugh so cruelly, venom drips in your words.

Yet he takes it as words of praise.

“You’re like my dog.”

Yes he is.

“S-So please just take me back? I-I’m so sorry YN…. Please punish me but not like this! H-HIT ME.” He takes your hand and swipes it hard across his cheek.

You gasp in surprise, Ezekiel looks at you with pure desperation. “Please! I-I can’t live without you,” he bites his lower lip, the mole under his lips becomes more evident.

“I-I can please you! I can help you get off! Please let me- give me a chance- I’ll make you cum as many times you’ll want to- PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE AT REDEMPTION!”

“P-Please!”

#yandere #yandere x reader #smut #yandere x you #soft yandere #male yandere #yandere oc #masochistic yandere #ezekiel: loser ≠ lover #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #obsessive love #obsessive yandere #yandere fic #yandere ezekiel #yandere x yn #yandere boy #yandere smut

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tim-shii · 2 months

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a/n: im pretty sure this is my first work for haikyuu IM EXCITED I WANNA WATCH THE MOVIE ☹️ accept this offering 🫂 pspsps not beta 🤗 also the word pretty is overused .. i mean suna is pretty so 🧍‍♀️

“babe, i’m home— woah! i didn’t know we were at this stage in our relationship. finally admitting you’re obsessed with me?”

“shut up, rin.” coming home after a practice match to you lazing around on the couch, wearing his shirt? a jaw dropping view. suna admires the way his band t-shirt hangs loosely around your figure. your hair is a wet mess, you must’ve just taken a shower, and your eyes are practically begging to be closed. yet, suna thinks you look as beautiful as ever. fuck. if you guys weren’t already married, he would’ve proposed to you right there and then because you just look so perfect right now.

the light from your phone illuminates your facial features. his eyes rake from your lashes down to your lips. that brings a smile to his face. he drops his bag by the door and stalks over to where you are, dropping his whole weight on you.

“rin! get off— you’re heavy and sweaty!” try as you might but an over six foot tall athlete boyfriend is not easy to push off. “but you love me!” he buries his head in your neck with a groan.

“if i didn’t, i wouldn’t have a ring with your name engraved on the inside.” you sighed in defeat. to say that suna rintaro is a stubborn man would be an understatement. he’s pettier than a five-year-old and throws tantrums when his affections are rejected or not reciprocated.

he pushes himself up with his arms beside your head and looks down at you with a grin that only means mischief. “you are so in love and obsessed with me that you steal shirts from my closet. aren’t you a cutie?” he squeezes your cheeks with a calloused hand and makes kissing noises. he’s so stupid, you think. you just wanna stupidly shut him up.

and so you did, pulling down his chin with a hand of your own. capturing his lips in a fervor kiss comes easy as breathing. you feel his breath hitch for a second before he returns the favor.

suna pulls away first, slapping a palm over your mouth after. (“mmph?!” you glared)

“you are a menace. taking advantage of a man like me? evil!” he pulls his palm away and bit your cheek.

“i married a drama queen.” you rolled your eyes.

“you love this drama queen!”

“you sure about that? what if i married you for your money? or i married you for your— i don’t know, looks.” suna narrows his eyes at you before a mischievous grin spreads across his pretty face.

“i don’t know, babe. your vows said otherwise. what was it again? i am the luckiest person alive to be standing with you today and to be facing life with you everyday—”

“liar! those weren’t my vows!” you shove a throw pillow on his pretty face. “that is so cringe, i would never say that.”

“you are cringe. you would a hundred percent say that. hell, you’ll say something even more cringe than that.”

“you’re the cringe one. running to the stands and kissing me in front of everybody right after a game that you lost!”

“hey! i’m sensitive about that.” of course, he pouts at you. a frown on his pretty face resembling a kicked puppy.

“you insulted my vows.”

“i did not insult your vows. i was just.. recalling and rephrasing them.”

“that wasn’t anything near my vows. how dare you. i didn’t sleep for three nights writing those.” suna attacks your face again. littering kisses all over your pretty face.

“rin, stop it— your fucking saliva—”

“i love you, too.” he murmurs, plopping a kiss tied with passion and adoration on your lips.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

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messylustt · 1 year

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obsessed — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : getting a call from ghostface is never good. especially when you find out who lives under the mask—the dorky boy who you drunkenly kissed one night.

contents : kissing. a little bit of touching. obsessive ethan, blood + mention of dead body. finger in mouth. wc 2.9k.

pt one pt two pt three

god, he was obsessed. the way you danced, swaying your head without a care in the world. a red solo cup was in your grasp, as you took spacial sips.

ethan’s hands itched to do something he shouldn’t. you were a target, and his infatuation would only make you more so.

but then he catches sight of a guy slowly dancing up to you. his eyes ran down your form hungrily, and ethan nearly broke his teeth, as he clenched his jaw.

you and ethan knew each other. you were in the same friend group, but ethan never allowed himself to get closer than that.

now watching your drunk ass begin to half heartedly grind on the stranger made him crack. he pushed off the wall, skirting past the sweaty people until he reached you. grabbing your shoulders he brought you towards him and away from the stranger.

you crashed into ethan, your balance not ideal at the moment. ethan eyes the guy with a glare, as you turn to face the man again. ethan slips his hand around your waist, as you grab his shoulder, more so for balance than anything.

you look up at ethan with furrowed brows. “ethan? i didn’t see you.” you smile, your mind and mouth drunk.

ethan spares you a glance and restrains from touching you any further.

“hey angel, don’t tell me this is your boyfriend.” the gruff voice of the stranger meets both ethan and yours ears.

you open your mouth but ethan beats you to it. “yeah, i am.”

your brows further crease as you gaze up at him. “boyfriend.” you mutter out. “boy friend.” then you realise something, your forehead smoothing. in your drunk state you clued it up to ethan agreeing to being your ‘boy friend’, with that exact space inbetween.

ethan’s grip tightens around your waist as the stranger speaks. “well, your girl seemed to enjoy grinding her ass on me a little too much.”

ethan didn’t like the way he spat the words while holding a smug expression. “she’s clearly drunk, asshole. don’t let it get to your head.” i’d be happy to stab you ten times if you don’t get her out of your head too, ethan doesn’t say.

the stranger scowls but backs up, disappearing into the crowd. ethan immediately turns to you, his breath hitching when he realises how close your watching him. your smile is wide and your eyes wondrous.

“fuck,” ethan mutters under his breath, before he drags you off the dance floor and into the hallway.

you subconsciously brush a strand of hair from ethan’s eyes, and they grow wide in response. he stops, though your grip is still on his arm.

“you ‘av pretty hair.” you nearly giggle.

ethan is focusing anywhere other than your lips, neck or eyes. all things making him slowly lose control. “i do?”

you eagerly nod, as you reach up to run your fingers though it. he freezes, watching you closely. you’re drunk, you’re drunk, you’re drunk. ethan chants this in his head. but then you lean closer looking concentrated.

you run your thumb along his bottom lip, brushing something off, but all ethan can focus on is your face and the feel of your hand. ethan can’t help reaching his own hand forward to brush your bottom lip.

“oh, do I have a hair there too?” you question, about to raise your hand to replace his when he suddenly steps closer, your back hitting the hallway wall. ethan continues to watch your lips as he runs his thumb along the bottom again, and as you open your mouth to speak, he lets it brush past your lips.

his thumb grazes your tongue, as you stare at him. through your drunken haze you close your mouth, your lips wrapping around his thumb almost delicately.

ethan’s breathing turns choppy, his chest heaving up and down as he watches you begin to drag your tongue along his thumb. he steps forward again, now pressing his entire body against yours. he feels as though he’s going to pass out by the way your looking at him. wide innocent eyes, slightly heavy from being drunk. drunk. you were drunk.

ethan pulls his thumb out of your mouth, but he can’t seem to find the strength to step away. you lick your lips free from your spit, and ethan holds back a groan. fuck, he wanted to kiss you.

your hand reaches up to tap under his chin playfully. your mind was a blur. “you taste like alcohol.”

and he looses whatever self control was left as he mutters a ‘christ’ before smashing his lips against yours.

your head hits back against the wall, as ethan’s hands wander your entire body. his tongue is dancing with yours as he explores. he wants to erase every other guys touch. he wants you to only remembers his. but you won’t remember this. your far too drunk. and so, ethan forces himself to break the kiss.

but he ends up just leaving your lips. he kisses your cheek, then your jaw, all the way down to your neck. your hand is back in his hair, making him groan. he laps at your skin, tasting your perfume, as it burns his tongue.

his grip has tightened around you, his head practically burrowed into your neck, as you gasp. “oh, god,” he breathes, getting far too carried away.

his hand drifts down from your hips, under your skirt. gripping your thigh he lifts it over his hip. perfect access as his hand dips down to your panties, rubbing one stripe along your covered pussy. you jolt making him smile. he continues to rub you, trying different pressures. it was torture trying to refrain from ripping your panties clean off. but ethan wanted you to remember this.

as compensation for his restraints he kisses you, hard, as he groans into your mouth, before he pulls away with a bite to your bottom lip.

he pushes himself away from you, setting a good distance to regain control. you touched your lips, before catching his gaze. he immediately looks away, scared he’d repeat what he’d done.

he harshly runs his hands through his hair, as you step forward.

“was it not good?” your question came off so innocent. your state made you have no filter, resulting in you spouting exactly what you were thinking, no room for embarrassment.

ethan’s eyes softened as he caught your gaze. he shook his head. “that’s not why I stopped.”

“oh.” you say with a nod, before looking down to fiddle and straighten your skirt.

fuck, you looked almost sad. ethan felt terrible, wanting so badly to continue. but you would hate him in the morning.

“come on, i’ll take you home.” ethan forced himself to say, as he held his hand out.

you quickly look up, with a shake to your head. ethan frowns, stepping forward.

“it’s okay. i’ll get home.” you smile before turning down the hallway and towards the exit.

ethan rushes after you, as you both reach outside. the cold night air contrasted drastically with the humid environment inside.

ethan grabs your arm, making you spin back. you look at him questionably. you didn’t appear hurt or anything which only made ethan’s brows furrow in confusion.

“your not mad at me?” he asks.

“mad at you? why?”

ethan breaths an almost sigh of relief, thinking he hurt you. but then your almost dismissive comment made his heart ache. did you not want to kiss him?

ethan tightens his hold on your arm. “ethan?” you ask. “i’m gonna head home now.”

ethan shakes his head. “i’ll take you.” without leaving anymore room for disagreement, ethan pulls you to his car.

;;

ethan panted, his face hot under his mask. blood pooled by his feet, as he tilted his head to inspect the dead body. it was a student in the same class as tara. his dad had hoped that this would be a cut too close to home, maybe strike some fear in the carpenter sisters.

he cleaned his knife with one swipe of his gloved hand, before he stepped over the body. he was in an alleyway, halloween festivities easily heard throughout the city. he was prepared to remove his mask when he caught sight of a familiar head of hair.

you walked along the street, gaze distracted by your phone, as you most likely headed home. though a certain part of ethan wanted to make sure you did get home safe, and alive.

quinn had mentioned you as a possible first kill, but ethan was quick to come up with some excuse about how it wouldn’t hurt the carpenter sisters in the way they wanted. even so, ethan was still worried that quinn or his dad might go against his words and choose to kill you in their own time. he couldn’t let that happen.

so, he left his bag to be collected later, and began to follow you.

it wasn’t strange to see a ghostface walking around. it was halloween of course. so, ethan was quick to blend in with the other horror icons.

you skirted past people, reading the messages left by mainly mindy. she was ranting on about who she thought ghostface was. ethan was her top suspect. you had laughed it off, originally thinking how stupid that would be. but soon remembered that anyone could be ghostface, whether they were a tall, intimidating football player, or a dorky kid from econ.

your phone then began to ring. your brows creased not recognising the number. you hesitantly place to your ear, darting your gaze around. “hello?”

“hello, y/n.”

you sucked in a breath. of course it was fucking ghostface. you didn’t slow your steps as you made sure you were continuously around people.

“what do you want?” you ask, keeping your voice steady.

“oh, nothing much, just…maybe your head in a little parcel for your friends to find at their doorstep.”

you gulped down arising vomit, as you tried to look around you. “where would you send it first?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at passing hooded people. “sam, tara and quinn? or would it be to mindy—”

ghostface cuts you off. “what about ethan?”

you clench your jaw. “why ethan?” your steps have hurried.

“why not?” ghostface taunts. “I’d love to see his reaction to your head in a box.”

your breathing has quickened.

“would he scream? cry? or would he feel murderous.” ghostface genuinely sounds as though they’re enjoying themselves.

“ethan wouldn’t kill.”

“I suppose not.” ghostface replies. “I guess that’s more my sort of hobby.”

“where are you?” you ask, seeing too many fake ghostfaces along the street.

you quickly reach your apartment complex, rushing up the stairs before pausing at your front door, keys ready. “where are you?” you ask again. but then they hang up.

you pull the phone away from your ear, breathing harshly. you unlock the door, swiftly re-locking it with a slam. you don’t waste time to run to the kitchen to grab a knife. ghostface could be in your apartment.

holding the knife out and ready, you scrolled through your contacts, calling your friends. not one picked up.

“fuck.” you breath out.

your next contact to try was ethan. but as you were about to press call a smash could be heard from your bedroom.

whipping your head up you gripped the knife a fraction tighter. you weren’t going in there. ghostface would have to come out.

there was a moment of tense silence before another smash was heard, but this time it sounded more like a head was being thrown against a wall. you pause. a head?

you rush to your bedroom door, making sure your knife pointed straight before you turned the handle.

the door creaked open and to your surprise you saw ghostface on the floor, looking either knocked out or dead. you hoped for the latter. but when you raised your gaze you were even more shocked to see another ghostface looming over the previous. their head slowly turns to you and you let out a yelp, shutting your bedroom door in haste.

what the hell? two ghostfaces were fighting? now that you’d never seen before. you backed up as you watched the door handle twist.

“don’t—” you rasp out as ghostface appears in the doorway. they don’t step any further though, just watching you instead. “get the fuck out!” you exclaim.

ghostface tilts his head in an inspection of you. “is that a way to treat your saviour.” ghostface’s barratoned, hidden voice speaks.

“what?” you choke out, still keeping the knife at arms length.

“I can’t say I’ve saved many.” ghostface continues. they step once and you back up.

“your afraid of me?” ghostface almost sounds pleased.

“of course I’m afraid of you.”

“I’m glad.” ghostface nods. “I didn’t want you to act stupid.”

you’ve backed up into the kitchen again as your hip knocks your phone. you remember you were about to call ethan. you quickly grab it pressing call on his contact. “come on, pick up,” you mutter.

then you hear a phone ring. and it sadly wasn’t yours. you freeze, looking up to see ghostface much closer than before. you raise your knife as your ear locks onto where the sound is coming from.

your eyes dart down to ghostfaces hip. buzz, buzz, buzz. “you…” you drift off, darting your gaze back up to their face. “your not…”

your face has fallen as you just stare. then ghostface sighs, bringing out the phone. “I could have stolen this.” ghostface half heartedly tries.

“what…” your words are lodged in your throat. and that’s when ghostface pulls off their mask.

you stare straight at ethan, who’s chest is heaving from the previous fight.

you pause. “huh?” you hip hits against the counter as you keep yourself steady. ethan was fucking ghostface?

he smiles. “hi,” he has the audacity to sound genuine and sweet.

“ethan? You’ve got be kidding me.” you breath out. “w-what?”

“sorry, I didn’t really mean for you to find out this soon.” he shrugs, stepping further into the kitchen and resting his mask on the counter. you back around until your on the opposite side.

“if you didn’t want me finding out, then why did you have your phone in your pocket?” you ask warily.

“maybe…I did want you to find out, just not right here…right now.” he waves his tainted knife in the direction of your room. “that bitch thought it was ok to come kill you.”

“I kissed you!” you suddenly exclaim, just now coming to that realisation.

ethan smirked. “I was hoping you’d remember.”

you shake your head. “no, god.” you mutter, your hand tightening around the kitchen island.

“I’m glad you do remember, because shit did you taste good. even with all that extra alcohol on your tongue.”

you sucked in a breath. “if I would have known you were ghostface—”

“you would have what?” ethan cuts in. “not kissed me?”

“yes!” you exclaim.

ethan tsks, swaying his knife back and forth in disapproval as he nears you. you skirt around the island again, keeping an eye on ethan.

“I was hoping we could do that again.” he begins. “with you sober this time.”

“I’m not gonna kiss you.”

“well that’s a shame.” he rears closer, a quick step away. “but I guess I can kiss you elsewhere.” you back up, as he tauntingly stalks forward.

you shake your head, as he just nods in response. “maybe your neck?” he grabs your shirt, yanking you towards him. you scream before he’s breathing over your mouth.

“or maybe your thighs.”

as you struggle against him, he manages to twist you so that your hips collide with the kitchen island as he grabs your waist.

he leans so close, caging you in. “or maybe I can finally taste somewhere a little more…intimate.” he licks at your earlobe as you struggle against him. he grins before biting your ear. you jolt against him, certainly not used to this version of ethan.

he then leans slightly back to hover over your quivering lips. “or will you let me kiss you?” his voice has turned soft, somewhat pleading.

you breathing stutters as he licks his lips. “how bout I make you deal?”

you catch his gaze. “if you let me kiss you, I’ll leave. I understand it’s a lot to process.” he almost sounds caring and it’s making your head spin.

he tilts his head, his curls bouncing a fraction. “well?”

you gulp, glancing down at his lips. he would leave.

“how do I know your not lying?” you whisper.

“because I just saved you from getting murdered.” he pauses, reading your expression. “plus having consent turns me on a little more than not.”

you breath, watching him for a moment. then you find yourself nodding. he’ll leave.

ethan can’t help but smile as he pulls you closer. “thank you.” he whispers, sounding so gentle, before he’s smashing his lips against yours. you lean slightly back as his tongue grazes your own. the force of his desperate kiss forcing you to lean. ethan grabs at your waist, fisting your shirt as he laps at your bottom lip and tongue. you move your head with his, finding a passionate rhythm.

ethan groans into your mouth as you both become just teeth and tongues. he finally pulls away, breathless.

you breath heavy as you place your hands behind you on the counter. both of your chests are heaving, but just as ethan had said he backed away, grabbing his mask and placing it over his head again.

#. ( psychos )#the ethan effect #jack champion x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #jack champion #ethan landry oneshot #jack champion smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan x reader #scream #scream 6 #scream smut

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theitgirlnetwork · 12 days

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Earn it

Ch. 1: You Boys Really Like to Play Doubles

Note: Okayyy another one in the lineup. Now that I'm back in my account I think I am going to make an update schedule. I hope you all enjoy this new series along with the others and let me know what you think. This first chapter is mostly backstory building but this story is my chance to be messy lol. It will have spoilers for challengers, but also a lot of things are changed. Please feel free to interact and give feedback (constructively) it inspires me to hear from you all. This obsession came fast so I feel like I already have so many ideas for these characters. This one is short because I was dipping my toe in but they will get longer! The aesthetic board for this story will be on the masterlist in a couple hours! Thank you and enjoy!

Tashi Duncan is an athlete. Hell, she’s the athlete. Of their arena. Of their time. She’s good. Great. Passionate. Beautiful…in the words of Art.

Sexy as shit in the words of Patrick and just about every other man who managed to lay eyes on her. She’s something to marvel at. And they did. Marvel. Art and Patrick stand there, jaws slack, eyes locked on the girl as she moves about the dancefloor absently. It’s like the opposite of how she moves on the court. There she’s a predator. Moving quickly, calculated, with strength. Here she’s graceful, eyes closed and enjoying the motions.

It’s their chance. A chance to meet her. To flirt with her. Con her out of her number when she wanders away from the group of women she’s dancing with over to the couches to retrieve her drink. It’d be easier to talk to her alone. They do their best work in a double, and as far as they knew, she had no partner. As far as they knew.

And they’re basking in her attention. Taking turns in a whole new match. When one gets the gift of her gaze the other’s smile drops like a puppy waiting for its turn to be played with, her easy smirk resting comfortably on her face the whole time. Until she comes.

“Made some friends?”

The two of them can’t help but have the same thought. Art was admittedly more ashamed to have it but they both had it. There’s two of them.

“These guys are in the tournament. They play tomorrow.” Tashi smiles, holding her hand out to the girl and helping her step over the table so she can sit down next to her. Both men offer her their own hand to help her the rest of the way but she simply squeezes Tashi’s harder.

Patrick and Art don’t know where to look. Before the girl’s arrival Tashi was the only person worthy of admiration here. She’s stunning, abnormally beautiful. But so was her friend. She had a darker complexion, with full lips coupled with a pretty smile. She tosses her silky dark hair over her shoulder, exposing more shiny skin. Her pink, strapless dress compliments Tashi’s royal blue one so much that even two men with no knowledge of women’s fashion would guess the choice was purposeful. They exchange looks as the women cross their legs in sync, Tashi handing her half-drunk beverage to her friend who rolls her eyes with a small as the boys’ eyes drop to her mouth. “Are they any good?”

Tashi hums thoughtfully, tilting her head lightly as if she needed to observe them to determine that. “From what I hear? Sometimes.”

“Not good like you though.”

That takes them aback for a moment. I mean, Tashi just won a tournament, she’s proven herself enough to pass judgment, all this girl has proven to them is that she’s hot. Who’s she to decide that they weren’t in the same league as Tashi. They weren’t, but who was she?

“You, uh, know that just from looking at us?” Art asks, finding himself sitting straighter at the scrutiny, the unimpressed looks on the two girls' faces getting to him as he wonders what it would take to change them.

All the girl offers is a shrug and a small smile around the straw, earning her a giggle from Tashi.

“You know, we didn’t get a chance to see your match. What’s your name again?” Partick’s brows furrow as he glances between his friend and the two women.

The smile drops from her face and her lips curve into a frown, cheek dimpling in a way that almost has the men forgetting she’d insulted them. “Wow.” she scoffs.

“You’ve got balls. You came to my party to talk shit to my best friend?”

That has them scrambling, stuttered half apologies from Art and sarcastic denials from Patrick. Anything they could blurt out to convince Tashi and her mystery friend to stay. All of it interrupted by their burst of giggles.

“We’re just fucking with you.” The girl leans her head back against the cushion, puffing out laughter that makes Art’s head feel like it’s swimming. He blinks at the feeling and takes his own deep breath. “I’m Heaven, I’m nobody, I don’t play tennis.”

“Nobody? You don’t seem like nobody.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice when he says it.

“Nobody is nobody.” Patrick cuts in.

Tashi gives the girl a disapproving look that would put ice in the mens’ veins, pursing her lips in agitation briefly before turning back to the guys in front of them. “She’s Heaven Whitlock, she’s my best friend, and the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.”

Heaven lifts and drops her shoulder noncommittally, taking a deep sip of the drink. “Yeah. I’m the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.”

The girls left soon after that so that Tashi could take pictures and once they were done, they were pleased to discover that the boys had waited to hang out with them more. The group made their way down to the beach and found themselves talking about all sorts of things. Life, Tashi’s earlier match, tennis as a spirituality. They were shocked to learn that Heaven knew a lot about the sport and could even play a little. But based on how they described it, she only knew enough to help Tashi train.

Patrick felt aggravated and outnumbered by the fact that all three of the others were going to college.

“Okay, so she doesn’t want her only skill to be hitting a ball with a racket. What the hell are you going to school for Miss Ballerina?”

“Train. I can get better.” Heaven shrugs. “Get my name out there too, before I join a company I mean.”

“Can we see something?” Art blurts from his seat, shaking out the ash from his cigarette. “Like your favorite trick or-”

Heaven’s face lights up slightly. Her back has been straight up all night, her shoulders rolled back with poise, but she perks up in excitement at the thought of the opportunity to dance. “I like doing Fouette turns-”

“Heaven, in sand?” Tashi whips her head to look at her friend. “You don’t even have your shoes. You have your first audition for your school’s fall show when we get back don’t you?”

Heaven rolls her glossed lips inward, nodding, eyes dropping to the sand briefly before they return to the men in front of her. “Maybe another time.”

“Another time. There’s gonna be another time?” Patrick leans back in his seat, looking between the two women smugly. “Does that mean I’m gonna hear from you two again?”

“I’ll see Art at Stanford. Heaven will visit.”

“He’s asking for your numbers.” Art offers. “So am I.”

Heaven’s brows furrow as she stands dusting sand off her hands before she helps pull Tashi to her feet. “Both of you?”

“Yep.”

“Want both of our numbers?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Oh, you boys really like to play doubles, huh?” She’s met with cheeky smiles and a shrug from Tashi. “Well, I have a boyfriend, so…” she grins, gesturing to Tashi. “May the best one win boys.”

The boys crane their necks briefly to follow Heaven’s walk up the hill, her sandals in hand, watching as she turns expectantly, holding out her other hand for Tashi to come up and take. They barely get out their offer for Tashi to come to their room later before she’s making her way up the hill. Her long legs carry her to her friend, whose hand she takes before swinging their arms back and forth, singing along together to whatever song is playing in the distance together.

As soon as they’re out of sight Patrick whips his head to face Art, a wild smirk on his face.

“Which one do you want?”

“So…which one’s your favorite?”

“Patrick’s got more natural talent, that’s for sure, but he’s stubborn, doesn’t wanna learn anything new. Art- what?” Tashi tilts her head at her friend’s scoff, moving to sit next to her at the small desk chair, watching as her friend rubs lotion into her face. “What?”

“Nothing, T, tell me about Art.” Heaven laughs, shaking her head. Tennis. Always about tennis. Poor boys.

“Art wants it more right now. And he’s good. Could be great." She stands walking over to the closet and tugging on her jacket. “You set your alarm?”

“4:30, T. Gotta get our run in and practice for my audition before the tournaments start.”

“Mm, good girl.” she smiles, dropping a kiss onto the top of Heaven’s head. “I’ll have my key.”

“You’re really going? You’re gonna go to their room?” Heaven turns in the seat and watches Tashi put on her shoes. The brunette pauses to look at her friend, walking over and crouching in front of her. Her hands rest on Heaven’s legs as she looks up at her.

“You jealous?”

“Want me to be?” Heaven asks, leaning her forehead against Tashi’s with a defiant look on her face. “I know you’re not gonna fuck them.”

“Really?” Tashi hums absently. “We’ll see. I’ll be back later. Why don’t you call Trevor while you have the room to yourself.”

With that she pats Heaven’s legs, pushing off of the floor and leaving her alone in the hotel room.

Heaven takes her best friend’s advice. She calls her boyfriend. It was a mistake.

Trevor hates Tashi. He hates tennis. He hates dance. He hates everything.

He didn’t use to. He used to think the girl’s dedication was cool. He used to love to come to showcases, recitals, even some of Tashi’s tournaments. But then he realized his place in everything. His place in Heaven’s life. Dance and Tashi, those two things would always come before him.

That’s the hard lesson everyone always had to learn. Tashi was always gonna win when it came to tennis and Heaven. Tashi was Heaven’s first…period. First best friend, first kiss, they’d taken each other’s virginities. They met in middle school. Heaven had been at the community center gym with her mother, running and doing weight training while her mom took a zumba class. Out on the court was Tashi. Beautiful and focused as ever. Heaven chose a treadmill that she could watch Tashi practice out the window from. She’d been startled when the taller girl came into the building and stood next to her machine and asked her if she knew anything about tennis and if she wanted to play.

She wasn’t good. Tashi was determined to make her good enough to play with. Soon enough they were inseparable. Heaven would sit in the stands at Tashi’s games, yelling as loud as the girl playing when she won. Tashi would go to see Heaven dance, offering her applause when she won awards or starred in a show. Having Tashi was intense, but Heaven was intense too, in her own right. They were both passionate about their crafts, and loved the art of working hard. They liked making each other proud.

Tashi was Heaven’s first everything except her first love. That was dance. Her muscles stretching into beautiful motions. Using her body to tell all kinds of stories. Becoming someone else entirely over the course of a song. Heaven would die if she couldn’t dance.

She doesn’t feel like that about Trevor. He was a sweet guy, and she liked him. Despite Tashi’s constant digs that he wasn’t good enough or amounting to anything, Heaven liked him. Not everything has to be an intense feeling. Content can be good enough. I can be satisfied with content.

But Trevor wished she would be normal. He wished she wasn’t so close to Tashi. He wished she wasn’t constantly working at something. At least that’s what he said when he dumped her over the phone.

“Trev-Trevor. Trevor are you fucking serious?”

Dial tone.

Heaven’s lip curls up in frustration as she feels her eyes watering. She throws her phone against the wall, hearing the distinct crack of the screen. “Fuck. Fucking shit.” She…needs Tashi.

Pulling a baggy t-shirt over her sport’s bra and underwear she goes to the bathroom and rids herself of any evidence that she’d been crying before she heads to the room Tashi told her she’d be in. She creeps past her friend’s dad’s door so she doesn’t wake him and alert him that neither she nor Tashi were in bed. As she gets off the elevator on the boys’ floor she straightens as she goes to knock on the door, hearing the faint sounds of lips smacking and moaning.

That makes her feel worse then she did when Trevor told her she wasn’t worth the hassle.

Heaven turns on her heel and goes back to the elevator. Her bare feet pad on the rug of the hotel hallway as she wraps her arms around herself until she gets back to her door.

She ties her scarf around her hair before climbing into the bed the girls had been sharing, facing the window. The blinds rattle as the wind blows and the quiet tears on Heaven’s face are dry by the time Tashi slips into the room and into the bed behind Heaven.

The bed dips slightly under her weight and suddenly hands are planted onto Heaven’s side. “Hev, I’m back…I had fun. Come on, I know you’re awake.”

“Cool.”

“I hooked up with them.”

Heaven turns then, laying on her back as Tashi leans over her, her hair making a curtain around her. “Which one?”

“Hmm…both. We didn’t have sex or anything but…I made out with both of them…and then they made out with each other. S’fun.” Tashi grins, flopping on her back next to her friend.

“They…ever done that before?”

“Nope” she smiles, popping the ‘p’ loudly. Both girls burst out into laughter as they think about the difference between their friendship and the two boys they met, so similar yet so different.

“You’re evil. You fucking homewrecker.”

“Ahh, they’ll be alright. It’ll be a good fuckin’ match tomorrow…winner gets my number.”

Oh.

“Trevor dumped me today.”

Tashi turns on her side at that. Her ever-inspecting eyes scan Heaven’s face before narrowing a little. “No bullshit? Good fucking riddance. Should’ve dumped him when I told you to. Damn, would’ve been an even better match if I knew that earlier. Imagine how they’d play if the stakes were the winner gets both of us at the same time.” She laughs, putting her legs under the blankets. “It’d be fucking funny.”

“Yeah, T. Fucking hilarious.”

Tashi is at the courts by 5 am the next morning, and Heaven is running on the beach. She normally loves training with here friend, but right now, she needs a fucking break. Being drilled about the audition or talking about this deathmatch for Tashi’s phone number doesn’t feel like something she wants to do right now.

Still, her and Tashi’s workout playlist blasts in her ears as she fights the sand’s resistance, panting out breaths to Lose My Breath by Destiny’s Child. That is until she sees something moving out of the corner of her eye.

It’s the blond one. She wasn’t sure which one’s name was which, but to her, the blond one was the cuter one. She liked his smile and he looked like he had a nice body under his baggy shirt yesterday. His tight athletic tank today shows her she’s right. Popping an earbud out, Heaven slows to jogging in place, offering him a smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, you’re up early, aren’t you?”

“Might not play tennis, but I’m still an athlete. I get up at 4:30 everyday. Clearly you do too.”

“Uh,” he adjusts his cap on his unruly blond hair before covering it back up, matching pace with her in her jog. “Not really, but the match is in a couple hours and I gotta explain to my family how to watch it. There’s a lot of them. And Patrick snores.”

“I see. Well, you’re gonna have to get used to it if you’re gonna get with Tashi.” His mouth opens and closes at that, like he’s shocked she knows he’s interested in her friend. “She told me about the stakes for today…and the other stuff.”

He falters in his step at that, placing his hands on his hips as he laughs in disbelief, before pulling her shirt over his mouth for a second to hide his face, ears red. “You guys share everything, huh?”

“Apparently you do too.” Heaven laughs, pausing in her jog to stretch her leg when she feels tightness in it, bending over to work the muscles. If her eyes hadn’t slipped closed she would see Art’s eyes dart to her backside before looking away in an attempt to be respectful. He absently thinks that Patrick is right. Hot girls usually are friends with other hot girls. “But I’m rooting for you…uh…?”

“Oh, Art. I’m Art.” he breathes, willing his eyes not to slip again.

“Short for Arthur?”

“Um, yeah, but nobody calls me that. Except my grandma when I’m in trouble.” He blushes. Heaven straightens, and offers him a pretty smile.

“If one of you is gonna be seeing Tashi, I need to know your full name. I’m sure you can carry the speech to the other one too. If you hurt her, you die, I’ll kill you little white boy, you get it right?”

“Right.” he hums, rocking on his feet. “So, you guys are close huh? She talked about you a lot last night. Fucking hates your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, she won’t have to worry about him anymore. Done. As of last night actually. Tashi was saying she wishes would’ve known that before your little bargain. Then, it would be both her and my number on the line. What can you do?” Heaven shrugs absently. She was flirting a little. Sue her. She’d just been dumped and was finally free to start having fun. All summer she’d been traveling with Tashi, being a good little doting girlfriend, turning down every hot guy she met. Only ever having one slip up, with Tashi. She knew they both were into her friend, she didn’t expect anything-

“So raise the stakes.”

Heaven’s eyes widen as Art looks at her earnestly, looking embarrassed by his own words. “What?” she laughs.

“You can…definitely tell me to fuck off…but…we would be interested in having your number added to the…pot? Fuck, that sounds awful, Patrick and I want your number too. I want your number too. If that’s okay.”

“And you wanna play for it?”

“Those are the rules right?”

Heaven observes the man in front of her. Boyish. Cute. And nervous. He doesn’t know how hot he is. Not like his friend. Not like Tashi. He doesn’t know what he looks like. And he seems sweet enough, nervous to offend them, but determined enough to push past the embarrassment to get what he wants. “Tashi’s rules. Not mine. Do you guys want to play for my number?”

His jaw sets slightly as he looks her up and down. “I wanna earn it.”

“Okay, winner gets Tashi’s number. And mine.”

#oc #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers 2024 #mike faist #challengers movie #challengers #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x patrick zweig #art donaldson x tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x tashi duncan #challengers spoilers #love #earn it

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asumofwords · 8 months

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Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til Death Do Us Part

SUMMARY: You and Aemond had been married for years, but he was not the man you thought he was. Discovering his affair with his secretary Alys Rivers, you had decided that enough was enough. You packed up your things in secret and left, leaving divorce papers on the table, and booked a one way ticket out of the country.

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. She/her pronouns, stalking, abuse, toxic relationships, infidelity, divorce, NONCON, manipulation, gaslighting, marriage, rough sex, choking, hitting, punching, yandere, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, forced orgasm, violence, daddy kink, dacryphilia, head injury.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

Word count: 10.2k

NOTES: Well, well, well.... Here we are. You have all been so feral waiting for this to drop and I am honestly so excited to see you all crawling about in my walls after. Probably shouldn't have to say this by now but will for new folks, READ THE TAGS, this is a DARK!FIC. There is no fluff or happiness lmao. This has been so fucking fun to write hehehe.... Anyway.... Without further adieu... Enjoy ;) <3

The soft hissing of the kettle took you away from the book you had been reading, nestled against one of the many windows in the small cottage you now owned.

Taking the kettle from the stove, you poured the boiled water over your tea leaves, watching the herbal mix swirl in the strainer.

The soft aroma of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the cup and you inhaled deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench as you waited for it to steep, no use going back to your book nook until the tea was ready to take with you.

The leaves from the pine trees in the forest outside had turned a deep green, the cold chill of winter having rolled through the valley of the quaint village you lived in early this year. Condensation rose from earth as the sun heated the mildew on the grass, the smokey illusion seeping from the forest floor.

It was different to the city. No more were the days of craning your head up to look at the crawling skyline of buildings, the sound of traffic, or yelling of people on the street. No more did you hear cars blare their horns or music, or the melodic sounds of people chattering in the late hours of the night or fights between lovers from apartments surrounding.

Now, the most noise you heard was the occasional storm that rolled through the valley, or the deer that wondered the pasture at the back of your property.

You could remember the first night you heard them, such a different and unfamiliar screeching that had set your hair on edge, eyes darting about to each window and front door as you raced around the house to make sure they were locked.

They always were.

You were meticulous that way. Always vigilant, always ready.

But in reality, you shouldn’t still be on edge.

It had been months since you left.

Almost an entire year since you packed your things and left the papers and your ring on the table for him to find. And what’s more, there would be no way for him to find you out here.

Not that he would even try.

You hoped.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t love him, or loved him; the lines were still blurred there. But Aemond had broken you in ways you never knew he could.

The lies, the secrecy, and then, her.

You remembered when you had first met Alys; a work event Aemond brought you along to. The pretty wife and happy family image did wonders for his company and the press, so he often brought you along on his arm, smiles and grins for the cameras, whispers of starting a family or trying for one, until you were out of view.

But that time had been different.

That time, something had changed.

You had known about Alys Rivers for a while, a new hire going months back. A woman from no notable name, nor background, a start up of her own, worked hard to get where she was, or at least, that’s what you had first thought when Aemond had described her to you; his new secretary hire.

An older woman, not one a wife would usually find as a threat.

It’s almost always the younger ones. Older men seeking out their youth between the thighs of a barely twenty-something, whilst their wives are none the wiser, or perhaps knowing and too resigned to care, birthing them children at home as their marriage dissolves into nothing but a loveless legal contract.

But this was different.

She hadn’t come to introduce herself at first, not at all, and that’s what you found the strangest.

Alys Rivers, a few inches taller than you, with pale skin and bright green eyes, had stood in the far end of the hired venue, sipping a glass of red wine, perfectly manicured maroon nails tapping on the glass, whilst she tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear.

You had felt the heat of her gaze immediately, your eyes meeting hers, and yet, she didn’t look away, didn’t smile softly, walk over and introduce herself as any other woman would have. She just stared. Right into your very soul. It had sent shivers down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that something was wrong.

Off.

Aemond had done his rounds with his private investors, higher employees, friends, if you could call them that, and press alike, all whilst you stuck by his side, smiling pretty and responding with shallow answers that didn’t give too much or too little for them to talk about later.

You hated those stuffy events, men and women alike always trying to get closer to you in order to get to Aemond, who was a fortress to begin with. Some people often commented or made joking remarks at how surprised they were that you had married him. That you had managed to thaw the Ice Man himself, that he was even capable of such things, and you would always laugh and make jokes back in good nature, smile never reaching your eyes.

But really, he was amazing when you were first married. Doting, loving, loyal, and always there, though that was sometimes overbearing. There was of course the little things, the teeny red flags that you ignored more often than not, rose tinted glasses and all that, but you had been young and in love and crazy about him, and he had been the same about you.

But as the years rolled by, and the two of you grew, you also both changed. The business expanded rapidly with the death of his father Viserys, and Aemond became more preoccupied with that legacy, most of the empire being passed along to him, and not his older brother Aegon, who had no desire to work and would rather live off his inherited wealth with drugs and weekend benders surrounded by lusty women. Occasionally men too.

And then when Alys came into the picture, it was like a switch had been flicked.

As though the Aemond you had thought you knew, never existed at all.

Alys had sauntered her way over half way through the event to introduce herself, all saccharine smile with razor sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into your flesh. She was polite, pleasant, overly pleasant, too sweet, too complimentary, and it felt off. Like an overripe peach, or wine that had been left open for a week too long.

Your husband had been stiff at your side, hand flexing around the tumbler of whiskey the entire time she stood beside him, too close to be friendly, and most certainly far too close for a boss and his secretary. And really, you should have listened to your instincts then and there, for they screamed that something was amiss.

But Aemond had a way of getting into your head, making you believe every word he said, push away your own instincts, and question yourself over, and over.

And that’s what you had done.

Questioned yourself, over and over.

Yet one day, something in the back of your head nagged at you too loudly. Aemond had not answering his personal number, calls you could understand, but usually he responded to his texts. But that day he hadn't. And so you called the office, where he spent most of his time these days, which had become a frustrating new normal, as was the depletion of your small weekends away, romantic dinners, spontaneous days out together.

The marriage felt stagnant, stale, and you knew in your gut the true reason for it. His desk had rang for too many rings too long. And when Alys had finally answered, she sounded rushed, caught unawares, awkward.

That was all it had took.

You had asked if he had his lunch yet, that you were nearby in the city and wondering if you should drop by, knowing that he had been spending later evenings in the office ‘working’, or weekend trips away to Harrenhal for business there, his secretary tagging along.

Alys informed you that he had just ate, but the way she said it was with that same overly sweetness that set your brain afire.

It was almost smug.

And so, without even hesitating, like you had for months on end, you picked up your keys and left, heading straight to his office.

Your heart had raced the entire time you drove there, weaving through traffic, just knowing, knowing, something, deep in your gut was not right.

And you were right.

Because there they were, caught like two deers in the headlights as you had swung the door open, Alys, seated on his desk, skirt pushed up to her hips, one shoe lost to the floor as Aemond thrusted into her parted legs.

They hadn’t even heard you at first.

But she saw you.

And she had smiled.

You will always remember his face.

He had turned and looked at you with shock at first, but then it turned to anger, as though you were at fault for this, as though you had ruined his fun, as though you should have known better, scar on his cheek crinkling with the sneer he threw your way.

You left in a flurry of hot tears, immediately calling your lawyer.

You drove straight to your best friend Sara’s house, and crashed at hers for the week, ignoring the constant buzz of calls and texts, and yes, even emails from your husband. Aemond in his desperation to reach out to you, even drove to Sara’s house, demanding if you were there. You had hid in the bathroom, holding your breath in the tub, shaking with anger and heartbreak and fighting the urge to go out there, to yell at him, scream at him, or more dangerous still, forgive him.

Then you were gone, speaking to your solicitor to get everything set into motion, friends loyally supporting your decision. You left the divorce papers on the dining room table, packed your bags and left whilst he was at the office, giving him no chance to manipulate you into staying, no chance for argument, and no chance for your heart to win over, taking your essentials and sentimental possessions with you.

You stood in your home, looking at everything inside, at all the memories that you shared in there. From when you had first looked at the house, to buying it, to Aemond's insistence on christening every single surface in the house to make it yours, all giggles and smiles, pleasure and joy.

But gone were those days, gone was the joy and the giggles, the pleasure and the smiles, and so with shaky fingers, you ripped off your wedding ring, finger feeling bare in its absence as you left it atop the pages.

At first you were just hoping to get some space to clear your head and not be manipulated by your husbands lies and very convincing words again. You knew that if you gave him a chance, you would be stuck. You knew that if he pleaded, if he begged, if he smiled with his signature smirk, it would be your downfall. He knew you far too intimately now. He knew how to get you to bend to his will. So you booked the nearest ticket you could and raced to the airport, not once looking back.

You had just landed in Paris when you turned your phone back on, watching the screen as it lit up, where you were immediately bombarded with multiple missed calls from him and a barrage of texts that became more, and more aggressive as time went on.

It was your fault really, to poke the dragon the way you had.

And yet you still did it, answering one of his frantic calls to hear the cool and icy tone of Aemond, barely keeping it together on the other end.

“Where are you?” He had asked, voice deep and quiet, small growl on the end; a tell tale sign that he was furious.

The airport was loud around you, people moving to their next gates, or stopping to move to the small cafes to eat, others continuing onwards towards the baggage claim to collect their luggage.

“It's none of your business.” You had responded, tone clipped, irritation and anger surging through you at his audacity to even be mad.

“I think it’s plenty my business. You’re my wife.”

“Not anymore. Have your solicitor talk to mine. Sign the papers, Aemond.”

You heard him breathe heavily into the speaker, “If you think for one fucking second that I’m going to-“

You pressed the red button on your phone and hung up on him, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you moved lazily through the queue to get through customs.

By the time you had gotten out the other end, you checked your phone again.

There was only one text on the screen that had sent panic blaring through your mind.

‘See you soon.’

You hadn’t planned to run, you hadn’t even planned to leave the country indefinitely, you just needed an out, but Aemond’s aggression had extended it, triggering your flight instincts. You didn’t believe that he would hurt you, but this new anger had frightened you. This new Aemond frightened you.

But Aemond Targaryen’s anger was not new to you either, his possessiveness was not new, and at one point you had even found it endearing. But after years of being married to what you thought was the man of your dreams, the other shoe dropped, and the true man was revealed.

So you made quick work of it, going to an international bank, taking every single cent out of your combined account.

You knew he wouldn’t struggle financially from such a loss, having another seperate offshore account, or two, or five if you were really counting. Not to mention his inheritance which sat in a vault in Budapest.

Comes with being descended from royalty.

But in the end, you knew you needed every dollar if you were going to get away from him and make it stick.

So you got a new passport, ID, and hitchhiked your way across several countries until you finally settled, finding a cottage, nestled in the woods, a solid thirty minute drive from town, buying it from the local farmer in cash. No contract. No deed. Just cash and his silence.

And that’s where you had been ever since.

You took your tea to the window, settling against the nook, pillows and blankets strewn all over as you curled inside. You looked out at the trees, the sun slowly setting for the day.

It was cold in your cottage, not too cold, but cold enough. Winter had come early that year, and you had used more logs of wood for the fire than you had thought you would have needed.

It was strange, to be so far away from the life you used to live. To be so removed from the world. But in some ways it was good. You had no social media, having deactivated every single one you had, and you also had barely any use of your phone unless you turned on the broadband, which was shaky at best and if it was windy, the reception would cut out.

The only people you really spoke to anymore was the people who lived in the town just a ways away, and Sara, who called every Sunday like clockwork, well actually like clockwork, you needed to turn the broadband on for Skype to work on the laptop you had taken with you.

In the almost year you had been gone, you had taught yourself how to make your own clothes, pickle and preserve foods, and even became quite handy at baking the odd loaf of bread here and there. The farmers whose cottage it was previously had left his belongings behind, taking only his clothes and things of memory with him.

There were books almost everywhere, the old man having been an avid reader, and amongst the books had been one on horticulture, and so slowly but surely, you had grown your own self sustaining vegetable patch. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented you from going into town too often, and also allowed you to not seek employment just yet.

That would come later when Sara would tell you that Aemond would sign the papers.

But every Sunday was the same.

“Any news?” You asked her that morning, Sara had frowned, pixelated to hell, but the frown still evident on your screen.

“Nope. Nothing. The asshole won’t sign them still. Solicitor can’t even find him to talk.”

You sighed, wiping hands down your face angrily.

Why was he doing this?

Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

Something about it made your skin crawl.

Those messages, those calls.

The ‘See you soon’ text.

Something had snapped in Aemond, and you didn’t like it one bit.

Your only consolation was that you were far away with a new name, new life, hidden amongst rolling green hills and large forests.

“How’s Cregan?” You changed the subject, and Sara had given you an update on everyones lives, her brothers first, and his new girlfriend. Then to all your other friends who you longed to see again.

But not yet, you just needed a little more time and for your husband to agree to the divorce.

When the sun had lowered in the sky, you moved to turn the lights in the house on, throwing some logs into the fire and lighting them with a match. You made sure to thank the Gods for solar panels.

The warmth of the fire heated up the small cottage quickly, and you made quick work of reheating a lamb soup you made a few days earlier, crisp homemade bread on the side with butter from a nearby dairy farmer.

It was hearty and warm, and filled you up, having a soporific affect on you. You had a glass of red wine as a treat afterwards, bought from the local markets and found yourself sinking deeper into fatigue.

It was a routine of sort, wake, eat, read, work on the garden or house, eat, drink, sleep. It was comfortable, and it eased much of your worries, always keeping busy. You didn’t realise how stressed and anxious the life you used to live made you.

The week went by, much the same.

The same routine.

The same walls, and floors, and rooms.

Same window nook, and cups of tea, and warming your hands by the fire.

By the time Saturday rolled by, you had been elated, excited even, to get out and look at the homemade wares and farm grown produce. To see the people you had grown to care about and make as your quiet friends. Still at arms length of course with your fake new life, but you let them in more than you had intended to.

It was never a large market, merely the other people who lived in or around the tiny town. But it was cozy, sweet, and some faces were more familiar than others. You looked forward to seeing them all and catching up on their weeks, especially an older lady named Lucy, who crocheted and knitted some of the most wonderful things. She had kind grey eyes, and would always insist on you taking something from her for free.

Today was no different.

“You make this most difficult, hen.” The grey haired woman frowned, coming round the side of her small stall to shove a large, grey knitted jumper into your arms, the same colour as her eyes.

You shook your head, “Lucy, please, at least let me give you some money for it.” Grabbing the soft wool that was pressed against your chest.

The older lady smirked, hands up in the air in submission, “It’s too late,” Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent, “You best be taking that, girly. It’ll be a cold winter that comes round this year, I feel it in my bones already.”

You sighed, “Then let me give you some money for it, and you can buy some more wool to make yourself some warm socks.” Fishing around in your bag to find some cash to give her.

Lucy crossed her arms across her chest, “Gonny no dae that. If you give me any money I’ll be right offended by you, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug. It’s a gift, you dafty.”

You shook your head and chuckled, there was no point in fighting.

You would never win anyway.

“Fine.” You acquiesced, “But I’m coming to drop you some muffins and scones when I make them next week.”

The older lady sat down heavily in her chair behind the stall, “I expect nothing less. Will you bring some strawberries from yer plot? Dang caterpillars got into mine and tore them to shreds.”

“I’ll bring you a mix of goodies from my wonderful garden that has no caterpillars.” You teased, rubbing the woollen jumper between your fingers, “Thanks again, Lucy, but you’re a menace.”

“Got to be when yer married to my husband.” Lucy joked, but it made your heart race instead.

You swallowed thickly and smiled shakily at the woman, nodding before bidding her a goodbye.

You walked through the rest of the market for a while, getting some fresh honey from a local farmer, some potatoes for a stew later on, and even buying yourself a new handmade mug.

It was a bustling affair, small children giggling with their parents, and older members of town who had been born and raised there walking about and stopping to talk with their life long companions.

Bright bunches of flowers caught your attention, and you moved over to look at them all.

Native flowers of all kinds were bunched together; roses, petunias, anything that could survive the chillier climate. And as you looked at a peculiar shaped purple flower, hooded like a bell, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and instinctually you turned, eyes darting around the rest of the market, looking at the sea of people, young and old, walking with their wares, chatting amongst each other or smiling.

Not one had that familiar head of silver hair.

You breathed out a sigh, shaking your head.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

It’s just your anxiety. It was probably just Lucy’s comment that set you on edge.

Not even Sara truly knew where you were.

You looked back at the flowers again, eyes on the purple ones that were nestled amongst pea flowers and other pinks and yellows.

“Devils Helmut.” The man told you, noting your interest in its peculiar shape, “Monkshood to others, or Wolfsbane to those witchy ones.” His eyes looked at you intently, “You ok? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.”

He was tall, older, but not by much, with deep brown eyes and wavy brunette hair that came to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. His jaw was sharp, a nice shadow across the skin from his stubble, with lips that were full and pulled upwards slightly. He had broad shoulders and large hands, tiny freckles dusting the pale skin as he watched you.

He was relatively new to town like you, but not really. Duncan, you remembered, had moved back to the little town after his father had passed away, inheriting the plot of land that was next to yours. Lucy had spilled the tea, over a cup of tea, about him with you a few months before, telling you that he was an eligible bachelor with a wink, trying to set the two of you up.

And although he was undeniably attractive, you worried for the implications of getting to know him, and eventually having to tell him about your marriage, and why you were truly where you were. You doubted the man would want anything to do with your baggage.

“I’m okay, just a bit cold. How have you been?” You asked him, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of your head.

“Fairly good.” Duncan rolled his r deeply, same low Scottish timbre as Lucy, distracting you from the rancid feeling that curled in your gut, “The winter’s come early this year.”

Duncan leant a hand against the table, and you noted that there was no ring on his finger.

Stop that.

“That’s what Lucy said too. Can definitely feel it.”

Duncan looked pointedly at the jumper still in your hands, “And what’s she given you this time?”

Unfolding the jumper in your arms you held it up, holding it against yourself to show him, “A new jumper. Will be perfect when it gets colder. Wish she’d stop throwing things at me and not letting me pay though.”

Duncan laughed, a deep chortle that rumbled his chest and warmed your cheeks, “That’s Lucy for you. She does the same to me too, the auld blether.”

You laughed heartily, “We should go in doubles to the markets when you’re not selling. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

Oh gods. Why did you say that?

A soft smile pulled on his lips, “You don’t know Lucy well enough if you think we’d stand a chance against her. She’d bowl us over without even blinking.”

Another laugh, and a shrug, "Worth the try.”

Duncan’s eyes scanned your face softly before he stepped forward, grabbing the bunch of flowers you had been looking at from their little vase, holding them out towards you, “Here.”

You looked at the flowers in his hands and frowned, “What?”

“Take them.” He insisted, “You looked right keen on the Monkshood, mean bloody flower that one. Be careful you don’t touch it too much.”

You shook your head, tucking your jumper into your bag, “I can’t possibly-“

“-Please. I insist.”

You reached forward to take the flowers from him hesitantly, feeling guilt bubble inside of you. What was with all these people and their generosity? It was going to give you an aneurism.

Your fingers brushed against his, and the warmth carried up your arm and straight into your chest. Duncan must have felt it too, because a soft blush creeped across his freckled cheeks.

Holding the bunch of flowers to your chest you smiled.

“You don’t have any pets at home? Any cats that might try and make a snack of the flowers?” Duncan pointed to the Monkshood.

You shook your head, “No it’s just me.”

His eyes danced as he nodded, and you felt as if you had answered his second question without him even having to ask.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

A large hand waved the thanks away, “Dinnae worry about it. Though, I have heard good things about yer baking.”

“Have you now? Has Lucy spilt all my secrets?”

A smirk, “Not yer secrets no. But yer baking, yes.”

Feeling bold, you smirked back, “I could make you something, if you’d like." You held up the flowers in show, "As a thanks, of course.”

“What can you make?”

“Anything you want.” You said quieter, swallowing the anticipation that rose in your throat.

“Can you make a good scone?”

You scoffed, “Easiest of things to bake.”

Duncan mirrored your stance, pursing his lips, “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that then. Do you have enough wood for yer fire? Snow will be falling soon, and we dinnae want you chittering in the cold.”

“I’ve got some left, but I know I’ll probably have to go over to Douglas and Lucy’s to get some more.”

The brown haired man paused in thought, tongue in cheek before he spun around, crouching down to rifle through a bag beneath his table, pulling out a pen and paper.

Duncan placed the small notebook in front of you.

“How about this, you give me yer number, and I’ll come round and bring you some more wood, maybe chop some for the fire as well, and you can thank me by making some scones. I can bring some of Elsie’s jam with me.” Duncan looked up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

And although he had spoken with confidence, it was clear that he was just as nervous as you.

It was hard to fight the heat that creeped up your neck. Excitement and anticipation coursing through you, the feeling of being desired making you giddy.

It had been so long.

You bit your bottom lip softly nodding, leaning down to write your home phone number, making a note to plug the old thing in, praying that it still works, as well as your address into the notebook.

Duncan smiled softly, taking it back and looked at the note, “You didn’t have to write down yer address, I know you bought Macnair’s property a while back, we're practically neighbours. Not accounting for the acres between us.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly, “Sorry, I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Hard to not know everyone here, especially when you grew up around them all. Plus, hard to not notice the bonnie lass who moved here. Quite the stir you created.”

You shook your head and blushed again, Gods damn him, “Not my intention.”

You both stood shyly for a moment, staring at each other, a warm pleasant tension building around the two of you.

Duncan cleared his throat, and clapped his hands together softly, “Right. Well, It’s a dreich day, so you best be off before the rain comes again.” He held the notebook up in his hand and shook it lightly, “You’ll be seeing me soon then. I’ll be coming to collect some of those scones.”

You grinned, and held the flowers gently in show again, “I hope they’re up to your standards. Thanks again for the flowers. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

The blaring ring of the Skype call filled your cottage. You raced from the kitchen to the desk, answering Sara’s call with a bright smile.

“Sar!” You smiled, pulling out your chair to sit in it, looking at your best friends face. But her excitement did not match yours, and instead, her face filled you with dread.

“Sar, what’s wrong?”

You watched as Sara visibly swallowed, leaning towards her computer, “Aemond’s left the country.”

Chills ran over your body.

“Oh, he must have a conference in Rome or Budapest. He always used to-“

“-No.” Sara interrupted you, and her voice instilled a rising sense of fear that you had been battling with for months, “Y/n, I don’t think that’s it. He’s already been gone over a week. That’s why the solicitor couldn’t talk to him him.”

Your heart raced in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Sara continued as you felt the walls around you move closer, “That’s why the solicitor couldn’t get in contact with him. They went to his office. Apparently he’s on leave, not even Alys was there.”

You licked your lips, swallowing dryly, “What do I do? Fuck, Sara, what do I do?”

“Don’t panic. He doesn’t know where you are! Hell, I don’t even know where you are.”

“I know, I know. But still…” You paused, breathing shallowly, “Sara, I went to the markets yesterday, and it was… Off. Something was off… And I just couldn’t shake this feeling that I was being watched.” You felt like you were going to be sick.

Sara’s face fell, head turning to talk to someone else quietly in the room.

“Who’s that?”

“Just Cregan. He’s talking to Helaena.”

You scoffed sadly, “Helaena won’t know anything. She didn’t even know about Alys.”

Sara shrugged, image becoming pixelated, “I-…-ow…-bu-….-o….-harm…-“

“Sar, you’re cutting up.”

You swore, swatting the computer lightly as her image froze.

Fucking broadband. Gods, maybe you should invest in getting a satellite dish here. At least you could get some cable tv if you did.

“-come to you.” Sara unfroze, the pixels evening out to an almost smooth image.

You groaned, “I didn’t catch any of that. Fucking internet cut out.”

“Can you get a satellite or something like a normal person and not be such a hermit? I said, why don’t I come to you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Sar. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt me, not that he’d ever find me. He’s just an asshole. Probably curse me out and tell me I’m making it all up.”

Sara’s face dropped again, and you wished she was pixelated so you couldn’t see it, the image making your skin crawl, “Y/n. Theres something you don’t know.”

You straightened in your chair, “Is Alys pregnant?”

“No. She’s too old for that. Something else. Something Jacaerys told Cregan one night years ago. I didn’t want to tell you then, you guys were so in love, and I had never seen you so happy. I just,” She sighed, “I didn’t even really believe it until recently.”

“Sar, you’re scaring me.”

She shook her head, “I know, I know. But as you said, he doesn’t know where you are, and he won’t find you. But Y/n, Aemond isn’t who we think he is.”

“Are you about to tell me he’s some sort of international spy, or politician in hiding?” You tried to joke, but the joke fell flat.

Sara’s head looked to the side before back at the screen, “When Aemond was young, he had a temper. A real bad one. Never got along with his nephews.” She took a steadying breath, “When Lucerys was thirteen and Aemond was nineteen, he attacked him. It was probably years of pent up anger after the accident, a fight had been brewing, but he didn’t stop. No-one could stop him, Y/n. It was bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach roiled.

“Y/n, Lucerys nearly died.”

Your mouth gaped open as you could scarcely get air into your lungs.

Oh gods.

“Breathe.” Sara cooed through the computer, “Girl, you need to breathe.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hand rubbing your chest, “What the fuck?”

“I know. I know. But they were young, I mean, Aemond was a lot older, but still. They were boys. And Aemond would never do anything like that to you. Not that he will ever find you.”

You counted your breaths as Sara spoke to you, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Y/n, y-….I-…t wi-…ll be fine-…. I-… ca-…n…-“

You growled at your screen, standing up in anger and frustration, anxiety pulling cruelly at your gut. You paced in front of the desk as you waited for your friend to come back into view.

When she de-pixelated and came back, you leant heavily against the table.

“You got your phone with you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Yea.” Sara lifted her phone to the screen.

“Okay, I’m going to give you my address. When do you think you can come?”

A cry flew from your lips.

The cottage was bathed in complete darkness, generator slowing to halt outside, the soft hum of electricity disappearing. Your heart lurched into your throat as you stood in the darkness. Skype screen blaring a ‘Lost Connection’ notification at you.

You took shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself.

This wasn’t unusual.

Just last month a squirrel had been trying to burrow into the electrical box for warmth and chewed through a cable. Luckily for you, Douglas had come over to fix up the wiring and helped you on your way. But with all that had been happening, it gave you a right scare.

Your heart did not slow in your chest, nor did you calm with the way your ears pricked at any noise inside or out. You stumbled through the darkness of the cottage to the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for your emergency torch.

Grasping it in your hand, you clicked it on, lone beam of light shining a path for you through the house to the front door. You crept slowly forward, the sound of your loud breathing in your ear as you got to the door.

You would have to go out and flip the switches manually, and make sure the damned squirrel wasn’t back.

Throwing on your wellies, you unlocked the four deadlocks you had installed on your door one by one until you opened it wide, the valley blanketed in the darkness of the night, clouds shrouding the moon and stars. The shadows of the forest around your house made you more on edge, every trunk or branch causing your eyes to linger that moment longer to decipher what it was.

But they were just that.

Trees.

You trudged around the side of the cottage, shoes crunching on the ground below as you made your way to the back. The icy air nipped at your skin, and you tugged the jumper that Lucy had knitted tightly around you.

They were right, winter had come early this year.

You would have to thank her later.

When you reached the electrical box, you tugged it open, shining the torch on all the different switches inside.

The main switch was flicked off.

For fucks sake.

The broadband must have blown it out.

The cottage was old, and the electricals likely older. But the solar panel were new, and you had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps the different generations of technology were clashing. You briefly wondered how costly it would be to have someone come to rewire the house for you.

As you looked at all the other switches, making sure they all looked in order, and the wires coming from out the back were all in tact, you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

You never liked coming out here in the dark.

It was scary, and although there was nothing out here to hurt you, unless there was a miracle lone pack of wolves that came strolling by, which you knew could never happen, since Lucy had told you wolves were hunted to extinction there. So it was just you, the trees and the moon.

The sound of a twig snapping in the woods made you spin on your heel, shining the torch out at the trees in vain. The light didn’t reach very far, illuminating just the front row of trunks, leaving the rest to be bathed in its dense darkness. Your heart thumped in your chest as your eyes scanned the woods.

It’s fine.

It’s nothing.

I’ve just worked myself up.

Gods.

It was probably just a deer or something.

You remembered the day you woke up to a whole herd of deer outside your cottage one morning, quietly munching on the grass outside. You had nearly screamed with joy, but kept the excitement inside, tiptoeing to sit in your window nook and watch them graze.

Holding the box open with one hand, you popped the small torch in your mouth with the other, holding it in your teeth as you flicked all the switches off, and then back on again.

You looked to the house.

Still dark.

You groaned, and did it again.

Again, nothing.

No hum of the motor kicking back on.

“Third times a charm.” You mumbled with the torch in your teeth, flicking the power back on.

The steady buzz of electricity came back, and the lights from the house illuminated a path for you back inside. You all but slammed the box shut and sped back inside to the safety of your cottage, spinning quickly to shut the door behind you, rapidly locking it tight with the deadlocks.

One, two, three, four.

You sighed a breath of relief.

See? Nothing. Just country electricals and wild deer.

You toed off your gumboots, hanging your keys on the hook beside the door.

You needed a glass of wine.

That would do it, a glass of wine and maybe some baking.

“Took me a while to find you.”

Ice ran down your back. Your heart leapt out of your throat as you spun on your feet, fear crashing over you.

You blinked.

And there he was.

Standing in your lounge room.

He had found you.

Aemond’s jaw ticked.

You were so in shock, so terrified that you couldn’t move, entirely rooted to the floor in place as your breath was caught in your throat. Your mouth opened as you tried to suck in air, head feeling light, but you couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t even let the scream out that clawed at the back of your throat.

He had found you.

Aemond took a step towards you, dressed in all black, his long silver hair pulled away from his face in a braid, “I told you, I would see you soon.”

Instincts kicked in, and like a startled deer, you ran. Tearing down the short hallway to get to your room, where you knew the old shot gun Macnair had left behind was hiding beneath the bed. But Aemond was quicker, and you heard his loud steps before you felt him, grabbing you from behind as you kicked your legs back and screamed, trying to get out of his grip.

“Did you really fucking think you could get away from me?” He grunted, holding you impossibly tight, “That I’d ever let you go? It was just by chance that I saw you today, I didn’t even think to go to the markets.” He explained, and tears prickled in your eyes.

You were right, you were being watched.

“But there you were. The Gods brought us back together again, Y/n. I was about to give up. But it was fate that our paths crossed again. It was meant to be.”

You thrashed against him, his arm locking around your chest and neck tightly. You turned your head and bit down on his arm, hard, tasting blood fill your mouth. Aemond hissed, tearing himself from your teeth as he dropped you to the ground, knees collapsing beneath you as you scrambled along the floor to get away.

“Fucking bitch.”

Pain rippled up your scalp as Aemond gripped you by your hair, throwing you back against the floor. Your head hit the wooden boards, eyes sluggishly blinking as the room spun and nausea curled in your stomach.

Your husband stood over you, sneering.

“You’ve been hiding out here for months whilst I’ve been looking for you. Having an affair with that other man who gave you the flowers.” Duncan, “Almost paid him a visit, but that can be done later. Spent all this time searching for my ungrateful cunt of a wife, but you didn’t hide well enough.”

His lone eye narrowed as he looked down at you, lips pulled back in a sneer. Strands of his silver hair had fallen from his braid and puffed with each breath as he stared down at you, chest rising and falling roughly.

You scrambled backwards, nails digging into the wood as he stalked forward, hunting you like prey.

“Money talks. And I have a lot of money. Which you would know, since you cleared out our joined account. Very naughty, Y/n.”

“Fuck you. Get out!” You screamed, kicking a leg at him.

Aemond laughed, dodging your kick, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my wife.”

“I’m not your fucking wife, you psycho.”

“No?” Aemond paused, cocking his head, “Then why are we still on the marriage register? Hm?”

Your back hit the side of the bed, hands swiping underneath desperately in search as you kicked at him again. Aemond swatted your legs away with ease, smirking down at you meanly. But he couldn’t block your kicks forever, and your foot hit him squarely in his groin.

Aemond grunted, doubling over in pain.

You took your chance, desperate to escape as you crawled forward, away from the bed, dizzy and horrified, all instincts telling you to run, not fight.

Besides, you didn’t even know how to use the gun, let alone if it was even loaded.

You stood, side stepping him as you moved to run out the bedroom door.

Your head hit the wooden frame with a crack, smashed into it by Aemond’s large hand. Stars bloomed behind your eyes, pain shooting through your skull. You tried to catch yourself on the door, your nails digging painfully into the wood as you cried, the hand gripping your hair, pulling you back into the room.

Aemond threw you onto the bed, looming over you, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? To see you again? How hard it was to find you? And you’re acting like such an ungrateful little bitch.”

You grunted and cried, trying to get away, desperate to get yourself off the bed as he pushed you back on it.

“Get off me!”

“But a husband needs his wife,” He leered down at you, pupil wide, “I’ve been dying without you, Y/n. I’ve been bereft ever since you left me. Abandoning me like a coward.” Aemond shook his head, “You could never really leave me. You’re mine.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at him.

Aemond smiled down at you softly, stilling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at him, “No you don’t.”

His smile dropped from his face in an instant, shadow cast over his scarred cheek as he looked at you blankly, “And if you do, I’ll make you love me again.”

His hands slid down your body, and began to tear at your pants, busting the button from your jeans, sending it flying across the room, then ripping the zipper apart.

Sobs flew from your lips as you pushed up at him, desperate to make him stop, fear escalating within you, “Stop! Aemond. Stop!”

Your fingers tangled in the bed sheets as you kicked at him, knuckles going white as you tried to drag yourself up and away from him on the bed, nails pulling sharply as you used every ounce of strength you had left. The room still spun as your head throbbed with every movement or jolt of your body.

Long fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your jeans and tugged them and your underwear down your legs as you struggled and cried and clawed at him.

“Been a while since you played this game with me.” Aemond chuckled darkly, “Do you remember when you used to pretend you didn’t want it? When you’d say ‘Stop! Please, no!’ and cum around my cock all coy?”

You blinked, memories erupting inside your brain. But those days were consensual, that was fun, something he had even introduced you to. But now? This? This was different. This was not a game. This was not play.

You kicked at his chest, heel clipping his shoulder sharply, a grunt falling from his lips. Aemond slapped a leg away, other hand gripping your thigh tightly. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin meanly, pain rippling up it.

Your hands tried to pry his fingers away, but the glinting of his wedding ring caught your attention.

He was still wearing it.

He ripped open his belt, and terror struck inside of you.

“Aemond, no. Please. Stop! Aemond stop, please!”

But all the man did was smile down at you crudely, “Gods, I’ve missed your begging. So sweet and small when you’d get on your knees and beg for my cock.” He pulled his length from his slacks, hard and angry, a drop of arousal smeared across his tip, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re mine. My wife.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, thrashing beneath him as he crawled atop of you.

You dug your nails into his arms, trying to swipe at his face and neck, your teeth bared, ready to bite down onto whatever limb came into their collision course.

“Stop.” He growled, slotting himself between your thighs, overpowering you completely.

You sobbed beneath him, begging him to stop, screaming at him to get off, grunting as you twisted beneath the sheets, your head still spinning with small stars that continued to multiply in front of your eyes, the corners of your vision shrouded in black.

In one final attempt, you went for what you knew would hurt him, what you knew would stop him, slow him down.

Give you time.

And so with the heel of your hand, you thrust it upwards into his face, connecting with his prosthetic eye, clipping the painful scar tissue that would sometimes wake him in the middle of the night in tears.

Aemond’s head withdrew with a sharp and pained cry, one palm pushing into his eye socket as he tried to calm the agony. You pushed against his shoulders, trying to move out from underneath, but Aemond was quicker, and his enraged gaze landed on you. The hand that had been pushing into his face, curled into a tight fist.

Your head whipped to the side, and a cool blanket of darkness washed over you.

You laid in it for a while, with no thoughts, no terror, no fear, just that darkness that curled around you quietly.

It was nice for a moment, almost comforting.

Just the feeling of not being there.

But then the blanket faded away, and pain bloomed in your face, iron on your tongue as you blinked in confusion.

There was movement and a weight atop you. Something sliding against your core.

And then, pain.

You whined, hands shoving against the chest above you as Aemond speared you on his length, thrusting sharply and dryly into you as he reached his hilt, the tip of his cock pushing painfully against your cervix.

You gagged quietly, head throbbing as the room spun, your arms weakly pushing at him, feeling as though they were made out of lead. Each movement of your body sent pain rippling through your skull, and bile into your mouth.

“Take it like a good wife.” Aemond growled, pulling his length out of you before thrusting it back in sharply.

You cried loudly, pain spreading through your core as you felt him tear at your walls.

He was always larger, much larger than anyone you had had before, and when you were together, he would have to spend ample time to prepare you, but you would always be wet to help.

The only wetness you felt now, was from your own blood.

Aemond began a harsh and rough pace, with long sharp thrusts that jolted you up the bed on his length, cries of pain bleeding from your lips as you cried, turning your head away from him.

You still tried to push at his chest weakly, nails scratching at him through the dark shirt he wore, but it was no use.

He grunted above you, picking up his pace, wrapping his hands around your neck for leverage. He squeezed, not tightly, but as a warning, and your eyes shot open to look up at him, hands clawing at his to try and get him to release you. The more you dug your nails into his skin, the more he tightened his hands until you were wheezing beneath him.

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, you just need to give in, baby. Come on. Be a good girl for me. Be a good girl for daddy.” He groaned, one hand leaving your neck to pull up the soft woollen jumper to reveal your breasts to the room.

Your nipples stiffened in the chill of the air, fireplace not having been lit yet and the cool of the early winter air seeping into the cabin.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hand coming to squeeze your breast roughly, pinching a stiffened peak between his fingers, rolling it through forefinger and thumb.

You whined in protest, hand trying to move his away.

Aemond lightly slapped your face, “Behave.” He accentuated with a hard thrust, another warning, sending pain shooting through your gut, “I’ll even let you cum. Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you cum, hm? Is that what my pretty wife wants?”

You shook your head weakly, tears overspilling from your eyes and down your cheeks, a sob working its way through your lips.

Aemond bent down and licked the trail of tears from your cheek, “Fuck.” He moaned, thrusting into you faster, “Forgot how fucking tight you were. Gods. Gonna have to make up for time lost aren’t we? You’ve been such” Thrust, “A naughty” Thrust “Girl.” Thrust.

Your core clenched around him instinctually, Aemond adjusting his hips upwards so that his length would brush against the soft spongey spot within. His pace faltered, and a smirk pulled at his lips. Warmth spread through your gut.

“There she is.”

“No. Please, stop. Aemond, please. I’m begging you.” You wailed, hands gripping his arms as your nails clawed into him.

Your husband smirked down at you, “Not so cocky now that you’re mine again, huh? Where’s that bratty attitude from on the phone?”

Aemond continued to fuck at you from the new angle, one hand on your neck in a promise, the other pulling a limp leg up his hip, revulsion barreling through you as you found yourself growing wet from the angle, your body betraying you.

The sound of your slick was loud in the room, adding to your shame.

Aemond only tutted at you, “See? Only I can make you feel like this. Duncan would never be able to make you cum the way I do. No-one can. You’re mine. This pussy, is mine. And what I do with it is for me alone.”

The light in the room was too bright above you, making your head spin even more, the clapping of his hips against yours loud in your ears as his thrusts rocked your head and body backwards, a familiar coil beginning to wind in your stomach.

It was all too much.

Even the smell of him overwhelmed you.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna cum for me, baby?” He cooed, mocking you.

“P-Please st-op, Aemond. It h-hurts.” You sobbed.

“Oh it hurts does it?” The sneer was back, Aemond’s head leant down beside your ear as he pushed to his limit, your walls gripping him tightly, and whispered, “Now you know how it felt when you left me.”

You weeped.

“I hope it fucking hurts.” Aemond leant back, fucking into you with new found vigour, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled your hips onto him, the coil getting tighter and tighter.

It was horrifying, to find your body finding pleasure from his assault, but you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. He knew you too well. Knew your body too intimately. Knew everything that made you tick, twitch, or moan. He had spent hours, years, learning how to expertly map out your body, and he knew your body better than you did.

A slick thumb pressed down on your bud.

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on me. If you cum for me, I’ll forgive you, okay? You cum for me and I’ll know you love me back. Come on, be a good girl, cum for me.”

His thumb swirled roughly against your bud, your hands tightening around him, unsure if you were pulling him toward you or pushing him away. Your mind hazy and confused, the world having been turned upside down.

You came with a cry, back arching off the bed as Aemond praised you through it, fucking into you harder and faster. Warmth spread through your limbs, your eyes scrunched tightly shut, bright lights behind them as your skull throbbed.

Aemond fucked your limp body, thumb leaving your clit as he held your hips with both hands, drilling into your wetness with a painful force, pulling agonising pleasure from you.

You weeped below him, keeping your eyes shut as you just wished for it to be over. For him to just finish.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my pretty wife up so we can have a baby. Hm, doesn’t that sound nice? Start a family.”

You sobbed loudly, hiding your face in your hands as you turned your head away from him, the taste of blood still thick on your tongue from where he had struck you.

His pace became sloppy, thrusts uneven as he began to lose himself to pleasure.

“Fuck!” He hissed, thrusting into you sharply as he came, hot ropes of cum coating your walls as he thrusted weakly through his climax.

You chest stuttered with sobs, head spinning, but exhaustion taking over.

You were so tired.

So tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

Wanted to fade away back to that darkness again. Back to nothing.

“Shh,” Aemond hushed you from above, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss against your wet cheek and forehead, “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You sobbed even harder.

Aemond pulled out of you with a hiss, a small whimper falling from your own lips as you felt pain strum through your brutalised walls. He flopped back onto the bed, dragging your body up beside him as though you weighed nothing, black blooming before your eyes as you knocked your head against the pillow, a wave of sickness rising inside.

But you didn't fight it.

There was no point.

No escape.

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide.

You couldn’t run, even if you wanted to.

And so you laid in his arms as he held you whilst you cried, curling into him as the tears kept coming. He cooed at you softly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your arm in a way he always used to.

It was so stomach turning, the different sides of Aemond, and if it wasn’t for the concussion that you certainly had, his actions alone would send your head spinning.

Because this Aemond, the soft Aemond, was the one you had known. The one who used to hold you to him, and whisper words of praise. But that was a long time ago, and the Aemond who held you now was a different man.

Someone you didn’t even know.

This Aemond was not the man you married.

Aemond pressed another kiss to the top of your head again, “It’s okay, cry it out. I know you’re sorry. And it’s okay. I'll forgive you. Alys was a mistake, but she’s gone now. She won’t be a problem anymore, okay? It’s just you and me.”

You sobbed louder, and he pulled you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours.

“I know, baby." He cooed sweetly, but it was insincere, hollow, cold, "I’ve missed you too. I love you so much, Y/n." Aemond exhaled hotly at the top. ofyour head before his voice fell to barely a whisper, "So much, you don’t know what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

A chill rolled down your spine.

You knew now what he was willing to do.

And with the added news of what he did to Lucerys, you wouldn’t put it past him to harm anyone that came between you again.

A wave of mourning crashed over you.

Mourning your past.

Mourning your future.

And mourning the person that you would become with him. There was no escaping this.

Him.

You inhaled his scent deeply.

He still smelt as he always did, but there was a lingering smell of pine in his clothes. The pines from the woods surrounding your home.

How long had he been out there?

How long had he been waiting?

“You’ll love me again, I know it. I’ll never leave you again. We will be happy together. Here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide against his chest.

“You’ve chosen the best spot, baby. You always were clever, we can start our family here. Somewhere quiet, no-one around. Just you and me, and eventually the children. Like it was meant to be.”

A shiver rolled through you.

“Marrying you was the best decision I made in my life.” He kissed the top of your head again, smoothing your hair down with his hand lovingly, “I’ll make you see.”

You laid there as you cried, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. Having no real power over the situation, having no real way to escape or get out. If not for Aemond's sheer will, the four dead locks on the door assured it as well. He hummed softly as he let you cry, pain crashing through you in waves.

Aemond paused in thought, his thumb coming beneath your chin as he tilted your head to look up at him.

Your vision was fuzzy from the tears, and the edges were seeped in black, but you could see it. The crazed look in his eye as he gazed down at you with a hungry possessiveness.

“Do you remember our vows?” He asked, watching as you blinked at him, your lip wobbling as you tried to stop the endless stream of sobs that worked their way up your throat.

His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a sharp sting sparking in it as his finger brushed over the split.

And then he smiled at you, in the same way that he had the day of your wedding, lips pulled wide, teeth revealed.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him.

The man you had loved, the man you had married and planned a future with.

The man you had been on the run from.

His mouth parted again, smile becoming softer.

“Til death do us part.”

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imthebadguyyy · 7 months

Text

Earned It

pairing : carlos sainz x reader

fandom : f1

summary : you and carlos celebrate his gp win

warnings : smut smut smut smut

a/n : on a carlos high right now and im just very obsessed with this man ❤️

"I'm so proud of you"

the words echoed like a refrain, from the moment carlos had gotten out of the car till much after the celebrations were over, and the both of you found yourselves pressed against each other, against the walls in your hotel room, frenzied hands running up and down both your bodies.

panting, you let the silky material of your red dress fall to the floor, hands reaching down to unzip carlos' race suit. you had decided to dress in his colours, and it had driven him crazy the moment he saw it, and you knew it was a good choice as you felt his hot lips press against the skin of your neck, pressing wet, smacking kisses to the delicate skin.

"it's unfair of you to look this gorgeous mi niña bonita my pretty girl, you were glowing, could see you sparkling from the top of the podium, the prettiest fucking person in the whole world" he mumbled, lips pressing against yours. the clash of tongue against tongue had you gasping for air, pushing yourself up even closer against him.

"you did so well today bebé, fighting to the win? ending redbull's winning street? that's some pretty badass driving, and it was really fucking sexy to watch as well" you mumbled against his lips, feeling him smirk against yours as you did."you did so well, i think you deserve a reward. after everything you've fought through, you came out on top like the winner you are" you continued, walking backwards onto the bed, reaching up to caress his collarbone, leaning down to suck on the skin of his neck, gently running your hands down to his underwear, tracing his waist, gently squeezing the hardened muscle, fingers tracing his abs feeling him harden against you.

"mi ganador" my winner you whispered, feeling his cheeks heat up

pushing him gently down onto the bed, you began to kneel down in front of him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as his dark eyes lingered on you. "let me show you how proud I am of you", you pleaded, sinking down onto your knees, dragging his race suit and fireproofs down his legs, followed by his underwear, looking up to him with lust clouded eyes.

carlos leaned down before you could go down on him, pressing a sugary sweet kiss to your lips, tasting the raspberry lipbalm you had applied, the kiss as delicate as spun sugar, and as silken as a soft feather.

for a moment you you softened under the gently graze of his fingertips against your cheeks.

you pulled your hair into a ponytail, hands gently trailing down his stomach, feeling the goosebumps break out on his body, watching as you sunk down to your knees crawling forward, swaying your ass seductively behind you, and you felt his cock get visibly harder.

"you just sit back love, i'll do the work." you whispered softly,running your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles clench as you did. nodding his approval to you, he cleared his throat, hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

licking your lips when you reached level with his cock, you let your hand cup around his length, giving it a few strokes. tucking the lose strands of your hair behind your ears, you leaned forward to kitten lick his throbbing tip. his breath hitched, head tilting backwards voice faltering slightly at your motions, a soft moan of "joder, mi amor" leaving his red lips, hand reaching down to grab you hair in his fist. letting the tip of your tongue swipe past his slit to collect his pre cum, you licked to the front of his head, looking up at him through hooded lashes as you did.

you could hear him muttering profanities in spanish, every word through slightly gritted teeth, making you bite back a smirk. his fingers yanked your hair, the burning on your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, straight down between your legs.

the sharp burn of your scalp only acted as encouragement. it made your skin burn, only encouraging you to keep it up.

you took to humming against him, feeling him tense up, the vibrations making his eyes roll into the back of his head when you finally took him into your mouth.

carlos whimpered, an action that he did not usually partake in, more used to being the dominant one in bed, as you hollowed your mouth around him, moving your head up to swirl your tongue around him, before taking all of him again, carlos biting back a moan as you continued working your mouth around him, as he thrusted his hips up, pleasure clouding his senses, making him hit the back of your throat as he pushed further down your throat, triggering your gag reflex.

carlos yanked your hair harder as a form of punishment, eyes shut and head thrown back, adams apple bobbing in his throat as he moaned and grunted in pleasurem

he thrusted his hips up again, letting out another loud moan of your name, hands releasing their grip on your hair softly, gently stroking your hair, the gentility of his touch and the roughness with which he was fucking your throat raw creating the most poetic juxtaposition.

but that was your carlos, hot and cold, sharp and blunt, passionate and gentle, a fierce loved and a gentle lover.

hollowing your cheeks out again, you continued to suck him, before you were rudely yanked off of your knees, and pulled into the bed, and you gasped for breath, still tasting his salty pre cum on your tongue.

"quiero correrme en tu coño mi bebita hermosa" i want to cum inside your pussy my beautiful baby girl he groaned, yanking you down for a searing kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth, pulling your legs around his waist to run a hand down your back, squeezing your hips and gently rocking your hips on his cock, your clothed pussy weeping at the friction from the grinding.

his hands pushed your panties to the side, fingers sliding into you, making sure you were wet, and sure enough, you were dripping, it was a slight surprise to feel how soaked you were and probably had been for hours, ever since the race had ended.

you could feel his fingers pressing against your walls, and he could see the glorious sight of your juices leaking out of you, and the sight of it made him moan again, bending your legs slightly so he could have your pussy facing him at a better angle.

his fingers made scissoring motions with his fingers as they ran through your folds, causing you to arch your back, leaning closer to his touch. you felt him rub rough circles around your clit, experienced fingers stimulating the bundle of nerves perfectly bringing the sweetest moans from your lips like notes being played on a piano.

carlos knew how to play you like a violin, knowing which strings to pull to trigger that one feeling in you that had you seeing the stars and had your eyes rolling to the heavens, breathing hitching as the pleasure burst forth in your veins.

"yeah, you like that don’t you? una chica tan traviesa such a naughty girl" he grunted as he pressed his thumb down on your clit.

the moan that left your lips was pornographic, his hands roughly grasping onto your cheeks. flipping you around to push you down onto the bed, spreading your folds before shoving his head between them. his tongue found your folds and flicked through them, letting his tongue lap through the pink lips, licking up your arousal, continually sucking on your clit, before grazing his teeth at your folds before finding your clit and sucking on it.

moaning at the intense flurry of pleasure, you let your eyes fall shut, squeezing your eyelids so tight you could see little white dots burst forth. practically shoving your whole bottom half into his face, he drank every drop of your arousal like water, the squelching sounds so filthy, they were spurring you on.

"need you inside me amor" you whined out, gasping when he pulled off of you and flipped the both of you over.

"come on darling, deja que papi te cuide" let daddy take care of you he growled as he pressed a kiss to your neck again. settling yourself on top of him, he guided his cock into your fluttering entrance, dark brown eyes fixed on yours, leading one of his hands up to use his shoulders as leverage when he entered you, eyes closing when you groaned as soon as his tip slid into you.

he let his other hand press into the skin of your cheeks, forcing you to look directly at him

"you’re so fucking wet, you feel so fucking tight" he groaned as he felt your slick-covered center squeezing him, moaning at the sight of your engorged clit, begging for attention.

"baby, please fuck me, por favor muévete papi" please move daddy you cried desperately as you felt your arousal grow. you were too high strung foreplay. carlos ground his hips into yours, his hip bone sliding against your pelvis, and he moved back, softly biting your ear, nibbling on the soft skin before moving his lips down to your chest, lips wrapping around your pebbled nipple.

he sucked on your nipple like a man starved, flicking his tongue against your nipple, one hand playing with the other neglected one, fingers stroking around the tissue until it pebbled around his fingers.

he pinched the nipple, smirking as your chest rose up to press against his.

he drew back from your nipple, a clear string of spit trailing from your nipple to his lips and he blew on it gently watching as your breath stuttered, winking at the reacting he could pull from you.

"mocoso" you muttered brat

"tu mocoso" your brat he grinned, flashing his pearly whites at you.

what you weren't expecting was for him to pull out, lifting your body up like it weighed nothing to flip you over, so you were resting on all fours and you began to rock yourself against him.

your eyes closed as a whimper left your swollen lips, as you felt him rub harshly against your wetness. "for fucks sake carlos, please, just fuck me" you grunted out, too strung up for coherency. taking your words as affirmation, he thrust his hips forward, pushing fully into you, bit by bit, letting you adjust to his massive size once again.

the swollen head of his cock stretched your pussy, and his hand took your messy hair, twisting it into a ponytail, yanking you back up to his chest.

he had barely begun, and yet, you were already shaking. his lips curved into a smile, pressing against the shell of your ear before muttering, "you with me darling?" he asked, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

"yes papi" you moaned, throwing your head back again to rest on his shoulder. your nails dug into his thigh, as you held onto him tightly, feeling so full with him inside you, it was euphoric.

he pressed soothing kisses to the back of your neck and your ears, before catching you off guard, and wrapping his hand around your neck tightening his grip around your throat, making your eyes roll back.

"que buena chica, tomándome tan bien, hmm?" such a good girl, taking me so well, hmm? he tightened his grip around your throat, cutting the airflow slightly, so all you could do was let out a strangled moan, no word leaving your lips." you feel so good you know, so warm and slick and tight" he groaned against your ear, relishing in the whimper you let out.

he began to fuck you hard and fast, any traces of your soft gentle carlos vanishing.

he pounded into you, your body shaking and your cries becoming louder and louder. your nails dug into him even harder, leaving little crescents on his skin, the burn increasing his pleasure. you could feel your orgasm approaching, his cock hitting spots in you that had you seeing stars.

"I'm so fucking proud of you carlos" you moaned out, almost blubbering incoherently. "gracias mi dulce querida" thank you my sweet darling he grunted out.

"oh yes, yes, oh fuck! daddy! fuck!" your body began to shake harder as he squeezed your hip and throat harder, but carlos didn’t want you to cum so soon, oh no.

half of his reward was leaving you desperate and whining, so overstimulated and horny that all you could do was moan his name.

he pulled out, earning a groan of disapproval from you, before pushing you onto your back, before he sank his cock into you again, making you back arch off of the bed as he let your leg rest on his shoulder, pushing the other one away from you so you were perfectly spread out for him nearly making you touch your ear, from how far the stretch is.

you couldn't help the cries leaving your lips, feeling him so deep in you, the weight of his body against you, so warm and homely.

"fuck, fuck! you’re so deep papi,oh fuck!" you moaned as his thrusts became animalistic, as he lost control over his own pleasure.

"do you want me to go slower, querida?" he asked, knowing full well you would sob if he did, when he was fucking you so good, fucking deeper into you, hips snapping against yours like a rubber band.

you shook your head, eyes rolling back at the intensity, as tears began to pool in your eyes, making you bite your bottom lip so hard you knew you'd have torn the skin.

the smirk on his lips told you that it was gonna be a long night and that carlos wasn't done with you just yet. your shaky legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing it. he grabbed your face, fingers digging into your cheekbones, before pushing your face sideways into the silky pillow, making you close your eyes at the contrasting sensation of your hot cheeks against the cold pillow, the feelings setting your body on fire.

he was hard, throbbing inside your silken walls, and you could feel every inch of him, making your head spin, while your heart threatened to just leap out of your chest.

although your moans were slightly muffled, and the desperate whines leaving your lips fuelled, him, as he continued snapping his hips into you, nails digging into your thigh, the pleasurable sting sending you spiraling. you could feel ths tight muscles rippling in his back, and you scratched down the bare expanse of his back, knowing it always drove him crazy.

the sensation of you digging your nails into his back, had his hips falterring and stuttering slightly as he let out another lke growl into his ear, as he allowed himself a moment to bask in the burn of the sting before regaining his pace and thrusting back "you're so, so fucking good, just squeezing me so well hmm?" he growled out, watching as your walls squeezed him harder and your eyes shut.

"oh, shit, merde, oh yes, fuck right there, carlos, right there baby, please, oh fuck i'm so close" you managed to get out, words beginning to slur as you began to near your end.

the red hot pleasure in the pit of your stomach began to tighten, making you pant. your words just made him fuck deeper into you, which you didn't think was possible, and the filthy sound of your wetness and the sounds of your skin slapping together echoed across the hotel room. the bed began to knock against the wall, the thumping sounding sweeter than the sweetest symphony you had ever heard.

"yes, yes yes, oh fuck, carlito, te amo!" you moaned out, voice nearing the decibel of a scream.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head once again, mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. for a second, you thought you lost your hearing, as a low hum filled your ears, and you could feel your heartbeat in your head, echoing through your body,and through the blinding pleasure, you heard carlos moan your name, before letting out a low grunt, feeling him release his chokehold on your throat and hips, watching as you squirted all over him.

"that's it, baby, let it go all over me, so fucking gorgeous. esto es todo para mí? this is all for me hmm? you're mine, aren't you darling? todo mío" all mine" he concluded, watching as your body shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

a series of profanities" and moans of carlos' name left your lips.

you thought you were done, but just as you began to come to terms with the force of your orgasm, you felt his thumb on your clit, making you jerk your hips away, shaking your head. "papi, por favor, please, no more, i can't, not anymore" you whined out, feeling your pussy throb.

"yes you can, one more bebita, just give me one more" he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again harshly, in a rough, dirty, demanding kiss.

you could feel his hips stutter, his thrusts becoming sloppy, signalling he was close to his own orgasm. you moaned into his mouth, taking the opportunity to suck his tongue.

"come on mi ganador my winner, cum for me won't you. heavens knows you deserve it mi amor my love" you asked through hooded lashes, looking up at him with doe eyes.

at your words, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his tongue poking out to lick patterns on the skin there, and you could hear his low, soft grunts as he chased his release, making the veins in his neck and his hand pop slightly. you could see his body glistening in the layer of sweat that had covered him,

“please baby. please cum for me, por favor papi?” you muttered sweetly, hand gently massaging the muscle of his taut shoulferm

he continued to thrust into you for a second or two more, before a deep groan left his swollen lips, and an even deeper moan of your name echoed in your ear, as he spurted his cum into your warm pussy with a groan.

your body shuttered at the warm liquid dripping into you, moaning in pleasure as the warmth of his release spread through you, enveloping you in a warm daze. panting softly, he rolled off of you.

he brought you to rest on top of him, as you let your head lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly come back to a normal pace.

his fingers entangled in the knots in your hair, moving the sweaty strands from your hair and combing out the knots, pressing kisses to your forehead and face and kiss, soft mutters of "mi niña perfecta, mi dulce niña, mi ángel, te adoro mucho, te amo tan profundamente" my perfect girl, my sweet girl, my angel, i adore you so much, i love you so deeply leaving his lips like a mantra.

you trailed kisses up his bare tummy, up his chest, before meeting his lips with yours, kissing gently to avoid bruising his pink lips even further.

you basked in the moment, enjoying the passionate kiss and the warmth of his lips and body against you. you felt his teeth tug your bottom lip into his mouth once again, letting his tongue trace your lips.

you let out a soft whimper before positioning your legs on either side of his waist, feeling him entering you once again, still hard.

carlos groaned softly, moving his hands to your ass, letting his hands trace it, before delivering a harsh smack to it.

"thank you for that, mi hermosa" he said sincerely, fingers gently tracing your knuckles.

"I'm so proud of you carlos. you never cease to amaze me" you smiled at him, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face to press a loving kiss to his nose.

the loving aura in the room was broken by the ding of carlos' phone, and you nodded to him to pick it up.

you watched as his eyebrow raised at the sight of his group chat blowing up with messages, resting your head on his chest, humming softly as you traced delicate patterns on his chest.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

lando 🥛 : carlos, im filing a noise complaint. 🍆

lord perceval 👑 : lando 😂 let them be. it's been a while :)

pierrito - carlos celebrated tonight huh? 😏

lando 🥛: he did but at what cost...

lord perceval 👑 : it was obviously some goooood 'some' ;)

maximus 💪🏻- i unfortunately could hear em too, and im on the other end of the hall.

lando 🥛: my valued sleep has been broken carlos.

lord perceval 👑: don't be jealous lando

pierrito: yes lando don't be jealous that carlos is getting the best sex of his life and you're not

lando 🥛: fuck off

alexander 🎊 : aint no way they're still going, carlos hasn't read our messages yet

lord perceval 👑: ...... good for his stamina??

maximus 💪🏻: intensive circuit training and core stability has been achieved

chili 🌶️: guys were so sorry we didn't know we were being so loud

pierrito : had fun sainz?

lando 🥛 : carlos sainz vasquez bla bla you were so fucking loud all of singapore heard you fucking

chili 🌶️: don't be jealous lando, now adios

lord perceval 👑: round 2?!

pierrito: round 2?!

alexander 🎊: round 2?!

maximus 💪🏻: round 2?!

lando 🥛 : im getting earbuds.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you let out a startled laugh as carlos showed you the group chat, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you hid your face in his neck.

"ahora querida, no eras tímida cuando te estaba cogiendo el cerebro, ¿por qué te escondes ahora? now darling, you werent shy when i was fucking your brains out, why are you hiding now? he smirked, a devilish smile painting his lips.

"dont tease me chili" you whined, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"alright i won't tease you, querida, but they were right about one thing" he said, throwing a suggestive grin your way.

biting your lip in anticipation, you ran a finger down his toned stomach, batting your eyelashes at him innocently.

"whats that, amor?"

"we are definitely going for round two."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : ahhh idk how to feel about this??? but it was just a sour of the moment fic i wrote on half an hour so not my best work 😕 but as always, likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated 🩷 happy reading and much love always xoxo

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dazednmatthews · 4 days

Text

your lips, my lips number neighbor!matt x reader part eleven

y/n is already outside by the time matt pulls up. she’s telling herself that she doesn’t care that they’re about to spend the night together, doesn’t care that matt’s about to be in her bed, and doesn’t care that he drove all this way at basically midnight to see her, but she knows it’s a lie. she cares so much it might kill her.

when matt shuts his car off and steps out, y/n feels her stomach tie up in intricate knots. his hair is messy and fluffy and he has her favorite chain on. it’s addicting, the way his muscles flex as he slings his backpack over one shoulder.

he raises an eyebrow with a half smile when he sees her sitting on the curb in her pajamas. “someone’s eager.”

she stands, wiping the pebbles from her shorts. “of course i am,” it takes him off guard, his eyes watching her walk up to him. she takes the drink from his hand and takes a sip. “been waiting all night for this one.”

matt bumps her with his shoulder. “annoying.”

she says nothing as she leads him up the stairs to her apartment. it’s the first time he’s been physically inside, but matt pretty much knows his way around. with the amount that they facetime, he’s been propped up on every surface there was.

when they get inside, she leads him to her room where he drops his bag, then they settle in her small but comfortable living room. they’re sitting about four feet apart on her sofa, tv playing lowly. even though she shouldn’t, she feels semi-awkward. the nerves are pressing against her temple, headache forming. it’s ridiculous.

and like the ever-knowing being matt seems to be on all things y/n, he stares at her, eyebrows furrowed. “what’s wrong with you?”

she’s shaken out of her stupor. “what?”

“you’re acting weird.” he observes, eyeing her up and down. “and you’re quiet. you know i hate that shit.”

this makes her roll her eyes. “you tell me i talk too much constantly. like i’m pretty sure you’ve said it at least twice every day we’ve ever talked.”

“no, i say you talk a lot,” he rolls his eyes back at her. “never too much. for some ungodly reason, i like hearing you speak.”

it makes her warm all over. “going soft on me, matty?”

“enough with the matty shit.” his face is highly unamused and it makes her giggle. “why the hell are you all the way over there?” matt grimaces instantly. he goes to retract the words, but y/n beats him to it.

“wow,” she snorts. “that might be the most god awful thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“i didn’t mean it like that.”

“what did you mean it like, then?” she teases. one of her legs is folded underneath her and her body is turned towards him. “cause it sounded like a line.”

“barely.” he shakes his head. “i meant why are you being even more of a freak than usual?”

she pretends to be offended. “one of these days i’m just going to hit you on that big ass head of yours.”

matt laughs. something about it catches her so off guard she falters. maybe it’s the way his eyes catch the light and are shining brighter than usual. or maybe it’s the way she can see his teeth, which she has a strange obsession with, poking out under his top lip. maybe it’s just the fact that she is painfully aware that this man is becoming important to her.

it’s like autopilot, the way she crawls over to him. like he pulled a magnet out his pocket and aimed it directly at her chest. his body turns to her instantly and it makes her heart stutter. almost as if he was finely attuned to her movements. they’re face to face, inches apart.

they do the thing again. “hi.” she says, smiling.

“hi.” he says back, flicking his gaze down to her mouth.

“what do you wanna do?” she questions, pretending not to be distracted when he runs his tongue over his top row of teeth.

“i could think of more than a few things, really.” he says, in a tone that makes her want to pounce on him. “it’s all about what you want, sweetheart.”

shockwaves. through her entire fucking body. she keeps up the bit anyway, though. “all men are the same. only want one thing.” she kisses her teeth in fake dismay.

matt’s hand moves from his side to a stray hair framing her face. he pulls on the curl, releasing it and watching it bounce. he does it twice more before he says anything. his face is thoughtful. “i was thinking more like play a game, watch a movie, talk… you clearly have something else in mind.” he leans forward, bring his mouth to her ear. “dirty girl.”

y/n almost falls off the fucking couch with the way the shiver racks through her body. she puts her forehead on his shoulder. “you’re evil.”

matt laughs again, but he doesn’t reply. before her mind can go absolutely buckwild with salacious thoughts, she redirects it. when the idea pops into her head, she lifts it suddenly. it startles matt so much he moves back.

“what the hell?”

she doesn’t say anything as she stands, tugging him up with her. they’re half way to her bathroom when she says, “i have something we can do.”

matt just complies, following her lead. it’s becoming a trend for him. he kinda likes it.

“this is absolutely fucking ridiculous.”

matt has been grumbling since the moment y/n put the cat eared headband around his head. she thinks he looks absolutely adorable, but he thinks he looks crazy.

“finish washing your fucking face, matt.” she has a playlist on her home speaker, entire space filled with her favorite songs. she’s sitting on the closed toilet, bare faced and amused as matt aggressively scrubs his own with her face wash.

when he pats his face dry and looks at her, he has that painfully dry matt look on. his skin is slightly red but clear, and she thinks he looks so pretty it might kill her.

the words come out before she can stop them. “you look pretty.”

matt does a double take, stopping mid stretch. the red waistband of his boxers are peaking through the top of the pj pants he’s wearing, a different color than usual. god knows how many pairs he has. he probably bought and wore these specially to torture y/n.

there’s a smile toying at the corner of his lips. “yeah,” he says. “you too.”

she doesn’t let the blush form under her skin before she’s jumping up. “okay, face mask time.”

matt groans, rubbing at his jaw. he’s clean shaven, which she’s definitely noticed, which will help. y/n gets the tube and squeezes some into the bowl she grabbed, taking the small brush and dipping it in. and because she just can’t help it, she tells him to close his eyes and slaps it across his cheek.

matt flinches and stumbles back. “oh, you fucking-“ he sighs, opening his eyes. “i hate you.”

“i’m sorry.” she says, completely unbelievable through all her giggles. “i so couldn’t help it.”

he rolls his eyes, muttering a quiet, “pain in my ass.” while y/n gets to work actually applying the mask. it’s quiet in the small space save for their breathing. she can feel matt looking at her intently as she concentrates, no matter how hard she tries to block it out.

his eyes are intense, looking at her like she was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. she can’t take it. “why are you looking me like that?”

she brushes under his eyes gently. “i like looking at you.” he shrugs.

her movements falter for a moment. “shut up.”

“i hate when you do that.”

she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, so she waits for him to keep going. “when i say things to you and you brush them off like i can’t possibly mean them.” he catches her hand, making her stop. “i don’t say shit i don’t mean.”

she’s speechless for the first time in her life. matt drops her wrist, so she continues. when she’s finally done, she admires her handiwork. it’s a funny sight, matt in a pastel green face mask, hair pushed back by a fuzzy headband.

“all done.” she says, gesturing for him to look.

“can’t believe i let you do this. i look like shrek.”

“not nearly as sexy.”

“you’re a sick person, you know that?”

when y/n turns to lean over the sink, ready to apply her own mask, matt stops her. she turns to him, confused. “what?”

“what?” he parrots. “i don’t get to do you?”

she grins, raising an eyebrow. he rolls his eyes yet again, “you know what i meant.”

“do you even know what you’re doing?” matt grabs the tool from her hand.

“nope.” he says, popping the ‘p’. “but i think i’ll manage.”

it’s sickeningly sweet, the way matt concentrates on the task at hand. how he takes extra care to outline her lips right. how he makes sure not to get it in her eyebrows. his own are furrowed tightly, eyes darting all around. he’s taking his time, pausing to look at his own reflection to make sure it looks the same.

when he’s done, he gives her a proud smile that makes her head spin. “now we match. shrek and fiona.”

“that might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“that’s concerning.”

matt grabs his phone from his pocket, pulling y/n to his side. his hand rests on her hip, fingers casually curled under the hem of her shirt. “smile or something.”

she looks at him, because she can’t help it. she wonders what planet he came from. she grabs his phone, flipping the camera, taking another picture. their faces are close, careful not to touch so they don’t mess up all their hard work. when she hands him his phone back, she catches a glimpse of him favoriting the picture before he slips it into his pocket.

fuck.

y/n is quite literally about to die.

not really, but the way that matt looks sitting against her headboard, her bedside lamp illuminating his face has her patience running thin. it’s like three in the morning, she thinks, or at least it was the last time she checked the time. after washing off their face masks, they returned to the living room, talking, laughing and snacking for hours.

matt had a way of listening, really listening, that made it even easier for her to talk. he asked all the right questions, laughed at all the right moments and teases her just enough to keep the conversation going. he wasn’t a big talker himself, but she noticed that the second he felt comfortable, he could go on forever. it made her feel accomplished.

they were in her bedroom now, because she yawned once and matt just had to make fun of her, saying it was her bed time and she couldn’t hang. she had a few words for him. none of them were appropriate.

she’s leaned against his shoulder watching a movie she’s seen probably six times before, cause he never had, debating on whether or not to make a move. his hand is on her thigh, just sitting there, and it’s been driving her crazy for twenty minutes now.

“the main character is fucking stupid,” matt says, voice deep and raspy. “why the hell would he-“

y/n doesn’t care about his thought, doesn’t care about this fucking movie and doesn’t care about anything other than kissing him. so she does. she turns his head to hers, slotting her lips over his.

matt falls into her immediately, hand finding her waist. she forgot how good he was at this. she wishes she kissed him the second he got out his car.

there’s a tiny bit of time where they stay like that, before matt gets fed up and pulls her into his lap. his hands find themselves on the swell of her ass, pushing her into him. she rocks back and forth, grasping everywhere her hands can reach. his shirt, his hair, his neck— she needs to feel it all.

“you,” matt says, breaking the kiss. “have to tell me-“ y/n can’t help but chase his lips. “-what you want.”

“you.” for once, she not she’s not thinking about whether or not it was too much to say. “i want you.”

matt smiles into the kiss, chuckling. “you have me,” he slides his hands up her sides, thumbs resting under the underside of her boobs. goosebumps break out. she forgot she wasn’t wearing a bra. “but i need you to be specific.”

she can feel exactly what he wants under the thin fabric of both their pants. she rocks her hips again, making matt groan. “fuck, y/n.”

she nods, trailing kisses down the base of his throat. “yeah, that’d be nice.”

matt flips her over, making y/n gasp when her back hits her mattress. “you piss me off so bad,” his lips leave a searing kiss on her throat. she’s letting out incredibly embarrassing sounds, mewls and whines that she just knows matt won’t let her forget later. she can’t bring herself to care. “cause why is it,” he sucks on her collarbone roughly, nipping the skin. “the one time i need you to talk to me,” he ghosts his lips over the valley of her chest through her shirt, “is when you want to be the woman of few words?”

she laughs, breathlessly. “maybe i just want to get you all riled up, matthew.”

he brings his face back up to hers, chain dangling above her. his eyes are alive, bright blue pinning her to her spot. “trust me when i tell you that you don’t have to do anything special for that to happen.”

the words are sexy, yes, but it’s the way he says it. it feels like a confession of sorts. like he’s telling her something without actually saying it. it sobers her up.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

y/n tames her restless body, thinking for a moment. “is this okay?” she asks, uncharacteristically shy.

matt smiles softly, reaching up and pushing her hair out of her eyes. he places a gentle kiss on her lips. “more than okay. we could stay like this all night and i’d be happy.”

the mood shifts, from sinful to sweet. it may not be what she initially wanted, but it’s exactly what she needed.

matt settles down next to her, pulling her closely. they lay there, hands roaming and lips colliding, for who knows how long. they learn every dip and valley of each other, pressing buttons and soothing them too.

it’s tranquility and raw emotion. it knocks y/n clean off her feet. tomorrow, she’ll think about what it really means. tomorrow, she might even get in her head about it. but tonight, her and matt are laying in between her sheets, blocking the world out. it might be her new favorite place to be.

a/n: this was not even supposed to come out for a couple more days 🙄 but there were so many asks and i felt inspired so here it is!! it is so late LMFAO and i have to be up so early but it was so worth it because i really like this. i’ll probably post part twelve tomorrow night!! hope u liked this!! alr love u all byeeeee

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