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tenelkadjowrites · 9 months

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Declaration - Hongjoong x Reader (NSFW)

🍒 Summary: On the brink of moving out of the apartment you share with your bad boy roommate, Hongjoong, you’re shocked to learn that he’s a virgin - and wants his first time to be with you.

🍒 Word count: 9k

🍒 Genre & warnings: one shot smut. roommates to lovers. mentions of smoking, drinking, physical violence. loss of virginity. dirty talk. unprotected sex. creampie. oral sex.

this fic is not meant to represent hongjoong in any way, shape or form.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get tossed out of here.”

“Please, the bartender loves us.”

“Does he?”

“Well, he loves our money.”

The heavy sigh you emit does not go unnoticed. Hongjoong glances up from his spot in front of the sink, casting a look in your direction. In the dimly lit, run down bathroom of the shitty bar you’ve been in for the past few hours, he appears to be in his element.

That isn’t surprising, seeing as Hongjoong and his merry band of delinquents loved to frequent spots like this, stirring up trouble and relishing it. You just wish it hadn’t been tonight, of all nights.

“Stop moving,” Seonghwa grumbles as he wraps the bandage around Hongjoong’s knuckles.

It is a familiar sight: the dirty bathroom, the muffled rock music, Hongjoong being patched up by Seonghwa, their heads bowed together as they examine the injury. Hongjoong’s hair is electric blue (“Gatorade hair” you like to call it to annoy him sometimes) compared to Seonghwa’s black and occasionally they are so close together their hair mingles a little like swirling paint.

“We can’t be in here forever. Eventually, someone is gonna need the bathroom,” You point out.

But Hongjoong doesn’t seem concerned. “Woo will take care of it.”

You don’t doubt that, seeing as Wooyoung is standing guard just outside the door. Seonghwa releases his hold on Hongjoong’s hand, briefly admiring the patch job he did to stop the bleeding from where Hongjoong had thrown a punch, missed, and struck the wall so hard some plaster fell off. Not that it stopped him from swinging again, this time finally connecting with the jaw of the man who ran his mouth a little too much for Hongjoong’s liking.

You cross your arms, tentatively leaning against the wall next to the door. The various flyers for bands crinkle underneath your jacket; some of them are so old that they seem to be permanent fixtures to the paint.

“Thanks, Hwa,” He says and then jerks his head in the direction of the door, “A moment alone though, please.”

Seonghwa shoots you a glowering look, knowing that the part of the night where you lecture Hongjoong is about to begin. As he walks past you, dressed entirely in black, his lips smacking from his chewing gum, he doesn’t break eye contact with you. This no longer phases you, entirely used to Seonghwa and his guard dog act. Making sure to roll your eyes as he pushes the door open, almost colliding with Wooyoung, you then turn your attention to Hongjoong.

“Does he always need to be like that?”

“You know, a lot of women love Seonghwa,” Hongjoong replies, flexing his fingers to make sure the bandage remains in place, “Are quite dedicated to him, in fact. They write page after page describing him.”

“Couldn’t be me,” You retort and leave your spot by the wall, going towards Hongjoong and motioning to see his hand which he extends, “I really didn’t want the night to play out this way, you know.”

Hongjoong has enough sense to look slightly abashed while still protesting at the same time. “You heard what that guy was saying about you.”

“Who cares? You always take me to some shithole like this and then are blown away when some asshole runs his mouth. You’ve never decked them before.”

“Tonight is different. We’re celebrating,” He puts emphasis on the word as if it clears everything up, “You got an amazing job and the party shouldn’t be ruined by some asshole.”

And you’re moving out, is the unsaid sentence because for all your differences with Hongjoong, he’s been your roommate for the last four years. But your new job is on the outskirts of the city and the commute just didn’t make sense, leading you to make the choice to move closer.

Hongjoong, with his slight frame, short height and diminutive appearance, would normally not fit the picture of what a hard ass would look like. But in the four years of knowing him, including moments like having to pay bail a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t sitting in a cell, you know better. Hongjoong has a ferocity to him unmatched by anyone else in his group of equally feral friends. He isn’t afraid of anyone, doesn’t think repercussions through, acts on instinct instead of logic, and tears through people and things for the fun of it.

But he never misses rent, keeps things exceptionally tidy and isn’t home very often. In all, a dream roommate which meant overlooking the chaotic way his life was lived outside the apartment.

You hadn’t made it a habit to hang out with Hongjoong regularly, seeing as it always resulted with Seonghwa patching him up in a grimy bathroom. But after asking you to come out for one last hurrah before the move, you agreed – and now stood in the aforementioned grimy bathroom.

You make sure that Seonghwa did a good job with the bandage, taking note of the blood seeping through a little at Hongjoong’s knuckles. At some point during the fight, Hongjoong’s hat went flying although you are sure someone has retrieved it. He has a baggy black t-shirt on, oversized for his thin frame, with the logo of some underground rock group you’ve never heard of. His jeans are covered in rips and tears and his combat boots are well worn with paint splattered all over them. His nails are painted black although at this point they are more chipped than not. His facial features are at odds with his clothing; he looks as delicate as a small bird which is probably why he has two eyebrow piercings above one eye and a lip ring to try to counteract that very comparison.

“I think the celebration would go smoother without some jerk threatening to sue you.”

Hongjoong gives a small shrug. “He won’t do anything. And we didn’t even get kicked out.”

“A successful night for sure,” You reply dryly, finishing up studying his hand – as usual Seonghwa had done a good job.

Hongjoong grins wickedly, “They usually are. Come on,” He nudges you with his shoulder while walking towards the door, “It’s only a little past midnight.”

You sigh, following your roommate out into the night of whatever little bit of chaos remained.

The ‘little bit of chaos’ ended up resulting in a hangover and sleeping past noon. By the time you’re up, showered, managed to eat something and are focusing on packing up the rest of your things, it is past six pm. You only have a week until it is time to move and your room is filled with boxes and a random assortment of items tossed all over the place. Stretched out on your bed, you are staring at a pile of clothes, torn between donating them or keeping them just in case.

Overthinking the clothing situation is only making your hangover headache worse. The apartment is quiet because Hongjoong, after making sure you got back home safely at two in the morning, had went back out. This is normal for him so you don’t think much of it. Seonghwa is moving in after you go and will continue his guard dog act so Hongjoong will always have someone watching over him.

As if conjuring your roommate up, you hear the front door open and the sound of Hongjoong’s boots against the floor before he removes them.

“Are you here?” He barks out into the silence and when you call back an affirmative answer, he appears a few seconds later at the entrance to your room.

His hair is disheveled, small dark circles under his eyes that means he is running on basically no sleep while in the same clothes as yesterday.

“How’s your hand?” You ask, motioning him to come inside – all these years living together and Hongjoong never entered your room without permission.

He blinks in surprise, as if having forgotten about the injury entirely, glancing down at it. “Oh? Fine, I guess.”

When he gets a step closer, you scrunch up your nose. “Joong, you stink, no offense. You smell like fifty bars threw up on you.”

Hongjoong immediately looks affronted, grabbing the front of his shirt and sniffing it. He smells of booze, cigarette smoke and the city in general. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Of course you don’t, you’re just soaking in it.”

“Well,” He sways a little on his feet, “I’ll shower.”

You narrow your eyes at your roommate, sliding off the bed and braving the smell to look closer at his face. “Are you drunk?”

“Still drunk, actually, because I was drunk last night, remember.”

“Fucking hell, what have you been doing since I got back here?”

“Uh….drinking.”

“Okayyy,” You drag the word out, gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the door, “Why don’t we get you in bed to sleep this off and then you can shower? Last thing I want to deal with before I move is you falling in the shower and hurting yourself.”

“This jerk challenged Mingi and I to a drinking contest,” Hongjoong explains sourly, “I lost.”

“Clearly. How did Mingi fare?”

“He won,” He replies brightly, his words slurring at the edge, “We spent the winnings on more booze.”

“Wonderful, truly. Let’s move it along, please.”

“Wait, wait,” His hand reaches out for the doorframe, the nail polish completely chipped off the thumb, “Wait.” His slender fingers grip the wood, knuckles turning white for a second.

You release your hold on his shoulders as Hongjoong turns around to face you. In the evening sun coming through the window, it is clearer now that he is intoxicated. This isn’t new behavior for him. In the four years of being his roommate, you’ve made a point in not asking the following: what he does when he’s out with his friends when you’re not around and how he makes his money to pay rent. Some knowledge is better off not knowing.

“You’re moving soon so it doesn’t matter,” He declares – to you? to himself? You’re not sure.

“What doesn’t matter?”

“All of it.”

“Can you be a little more specific?” You are trying to keep impatience from creeping into your tone, casting a glance at the collection of clothes you need to get back to overthinking about.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about. Ask you about? Uhm,” His brow furrows in drunken confusion for a second before he continues, “It’s about me.”

“Should we discuss this now?” You say with a small sigh.

“You’re moving so I wanted to ask if you could do me a favour.”

“I’m not helping you hide a body.”

“N-no, what? No, not that. Besides, I’d ask Hwa for help with something like that. He’s very meticulous.”

“Can you please get to the point?”

Hongjoong suddenly looks a bit unsure of himself which is strange to see. You can’t actually recall ever seeing the expression on his face before and it ushers you into silence, wondering with a quickening heart what in the world he is going to tell you.

His words are still slurred so you lean a little closer to him (much to your chagrin, given the smell) to try to understand what he is saying.

“Since you’re moving, I wanted to ask if you would – well, the thing is. You know, I’ve fooled around a lot. But never…you know. So I was wondering if you would. With me.”

You blink at him, unable to comprehend what Hongjoong is trying to say. If it had been anyone else talking, you would have assumed they were trying to tell you they were a virgin. But that would be ridiculous given the fact this is Hongjoong, who seemed to naturally have people drawn to him. You also definitely saw him making out with people in bars before too…

As the silence drags on, Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably. That same fragile expression is on his face, a far cry from the usual cocky grin he carried.

“I’m sorry, are you telling me that you’re a…virgin?” You finally ask point blank when it became clear that your roommate is not going to speak more.

Hongjoong blinks and to your surprise, there is a touch of colour across his cheeks as he replies stiffly, “Yes.”

“And you’re asking me to…sleep with you?”

He clears his throat a little. “Yes.”

You don’t know what to say and can’t really wrap your head around what he is telling you. What you do know is Hongjoong is drunk and this is not a conversation to be had at this moment. He might not even remember it come tomorrow nor the request he has made.

Carefully, you reply, “Hongjoong, I think you should get some sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow, alright? But you’re intoxicated and this is more of a…. sober conversation.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and mumbles that he understands. Turning around, he shuffles out of your room and down the hall to his own space, closing the door firmly behind him. You hover in the doorway, waiting for…well, you aren’t sure. Was he upset that you pushed the conversation off? Even if he is, you know you did the right thing.

When it is clear Hongjoong isn’t going to reappear, you quietly shut the door and stare at your bed.

How is it possible that your roommate is a virgin? He is exceptionally good with people, charming even - when he wanted to be. Sure, he might throw a punch here or there or…often but you also witnessed him flirting constantly with people.

On the other hand, now that you’re thinking about it, you cannot recall Hongjoong ever bringing someone back to the apartment to spend the night. But you just assumed that he was sleeping with people elsewhere.

Apparently, he wasn’t.

So I was wondering if you would. With me.

For all Hongjoong’s tendencies to get in trouble, you always considered him a friend. But the thoughts never crossed into anything else. You never pictured yourself taking things further with him. He had been your roommate for years, why mess that up with sex?

Since you’re moving…obviously Hongjoong gave this some thought before drunkenly suggesting you take his virginity. There isn’t anything to ruin when you’re moving out. If the sex was terrible or awkward, Hongjoong knew you’d be on the other side of the city. Through that lens, it made sense why he asked you.

Tomorrow, you think, I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow when he’s sober.

Late afternoon the next day, you stand outside Hongjoong’s door. He slept almost the entire day, waking up only two hours ago and taking an incredibly long shower. The kitchen smells of coffee and half the pot is already gone. His room is mostly quiet although the low hum of a TV show lets you know he is up.

You aren’t sure how to approach this conversation. You’ve seen Hongjoong punch multiple people, you’ve seen him get hauled out of bar fights by Jongho, you’ve watched him fix up a motorcycle for an illegal street race and have lost count at watching Seonghwa patch him up.

But you’ve never had a conversation about his sexual history or how it might include you.

Lecturing Hongjoong is second nature to you, to the point that you sometimes think he enjoys the speeches. Talking to Hongjoong about his virginity? Yeah, you’re out of your element. You’re hoping that he was so drunk last night that he made the whole thing up.

But the expression on his face during his confession lingers in your mind, giving you a sneaking suspicion there wasn’t anything false about it.

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door. You hear something clatter to the floor and then a shuffling of Hongjoong’s feet. A second later, he opens the door, avoiding your eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Joong. How are you feeling? Hungover?”

“No,” He says almost defensively as if being hungover would be a slight on his character, “Just tired.”

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.”

His eyes flick up to yours. There is a wariness that has settled across his delicate face. He remembers the conversation, you think as he moves to the side to let you into his room. The blinds are pulled shut over the window. The TV has some show on at a low volume, the screen brightness so dimmed that you know he is definitely hungover since it must hurt his eyes.

Hongjoong is wearing an oversized white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants. He looks somehow smaller than ever. Even with the eyebrow and lip piercings, you don’t think that it is possible to recall a time where he looked so tiny. He also smells a thousand times better than yesterday; the scent of clean laundry and soap clings to him in an almost comforting way.

You sit gingerly on the edge of Hongjoong’s bed. One side of his room is a chaotic mess of paintings in progress, a collection of paints shoved on top of his dresser in a teetering tower, completely unorganized. Hongjoong didn’t keep it a secret that he was an artist but the amount of people who knew probably could be counted on your fingers. He never showed his finished work to anyone and you only caught glimpses the rare times you were in his room.

Hongjoong just stands there, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. You have no idea how to start this conversation.

“Listen, this is kinda awkward for me,” You begin, “But I have to talk to you about a conversation we had yesterday when you were drunk.”

“I remember it,” His tone is defensive, straightening himself out so that he looks as tall as possible.

You’ve never had his attitude directed at you before but are familiar with it. Right now, however, it comes off as artificial, an act to protect himself from however this talk goes.

“Great, okay. Were you telling the truth?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Maybe you found it funny.”

“Why would that be funny?” He snaps, his agitation and anxiety too powerful to be masked by his tough guy exterior.

You shrug. “Seeing my reaction about something like that. You might believe that I would find something amusing about an admission like that. I don’t, by the way. But when you’re drunk, sometimes what we find funny can be different.”

Hongjoong narrows his eyes slightly, crossing his arms. He looks as defensive as ever but you get the feeling he is crossing his arms more to mentally protect himself, not because he is actually hostile. “You don’t find it funny?”

“No. So, it’s true then? You’re a virgin?”

Hongjoong flinches at the word and then scowls. “Yes.”

“Not to lecture you but you do know virginity is just a social construct –”

He waves one hand dismissively as if swatting a fly. “Don’t start. I already know. I’ve read it online a thousand times. And it’s not like I have zero experience. Casually making out in bars or whatever happen often enough.”

“Right,” You reply, “But anything more than that…”

He averts his gaze, still on edge. “Nothing. It isn’t that I’m against it. I just built it up too much in my head and now it’s some gigantic thing that gives me anxiety. I’ve had a thousand different ideas. I’ve thought about just finding someone at one of the bars or one of the shows I go to and fucking them behind the stage or something and getting it over with. I don’t want it to be some fucking…cuddly romantic thing. But when it comes to pulling the trigger, I just never seem to.”

“And the idea to ask me?”

There is a flicker of embarrassment that is wiped cleanly away by his earlier expression of hostility as he replies, “You’re moving. So, if it is awkward or terrible, it doesn’t matter. I won’t ever have to see you again. It can’t ruin us being roommates cuz you’ll be gone. You understand?”

“Yeah, I get it. But there needs to be…a level of attraction for sleeping together to work, Hongjoong. And I have to admit that I never thought of you that way because you’re my roommate.”

Hongjoong tentatively sits next to you on the edge of the bed although his posture looks as if he is ready to flee at any second. “Yeah, but we’re not going to be come next week. So…think about it.”

You study his profile since he remains steadfastly looking ahead. The curve of his elegant nose, the fragility of his features – no amount of piercings could erase those things. Even his hands resting in his lap look to be made from porcelain, the bandage still wrapped around his knuckles making you wonder how he hasn’t broken a bone from throwing punches.

You try to picture Hongjoong approaching your bed, stripping your clothes off your body, his fingers running across your skin. His lips against yours, the way his breathing would change when he would be turned on. He would probably still be in control when it came to sex, judging from how he is in everything else, even if it would be entirely new to him. The idea of him turning into a whimpering mess seems unlikely to happen.

“Just think about it,” Hongjoong goes, “I know it’s…an unusual request. But I feel comfortable with you. I don’t think the anxiety would be so bad knowing you’re moving out and if it sucks, it won’t matter. That’s why I want it to be you and no one else.”

You stand up, skin strangely hot and nod. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

Hongjoong looks relieved, nodding. “Great. Well, listen, I gotta clean my bedsheets cuz they smell like booze and I have half a pot of coffee left to go so…”

“Right, I’m going now,” You say, eyes darting to his hands one last time, thinking about how they’d feel against your thighs, “Thanks for the talk.”

Hongjoong shrugs with the air of forced casual indifference which you see right through but won’t point out. You close the door, mulling over what it would be like to sleep with him. He’s right in that there wouldn’t be any downsides. You’re moving so if it’s terrible, does it matter? It would be so easy to tumble into bed with him.

Once you’re back in your own room, you flop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

So think about it.

Hongjoong makes it sound so simple. That causes you to wonder how long he had been thinking about it, how long he imagined sleeping with you. He never gave any indication about such things but he also hides everything under his tough guy exterior.

In your four years of being roommates with Hongjoong, you always trusted and got along with him. Sure, his life was not one you fully understood nor wanted for your own but he seemed at ease in it. There was the time your car broke down and he sent Yeosang out to pick you up immediately. The rare time you’d attend a rock show with Hongjoong and he would viciously push any guy who tried to get a little too touchy feeling with you under the guise of being smushed in the crowd. Sometimes, after vanishing for a few days, he would reappear with your favourite Starbucks order for no reason at all. Or that one time your relationship ended because your ex cheated on you and Hongjoong played innocent when they showed up and accused him of keying his car. Not to mention the fact Hongjoong just punched that guy last night for being vulgar…

“Oh god,” You mumble, suddenly sitting up.

Of course it had been easy for Hongjoong to imagine sleeping with you. The gestures that you just assumed were typical roommate ones and hadn’t questioned are now very clearly indications of a larger interest in you. You’re only seeing it now because of his confession of his virginity and asking to lose it to you, of all people.

So think about it, he said, carefully hiding his emotions underneath the veneer of indifference and attitude.

You lay back down and finally, truly, think about it.

Hongjoong promptly vanishes the next two days. You have never noticed his absence before, always enjoying having a roommate that didn’t spend a lot of time at home. But with the last conversation being so serious, the silence feels intentional as if he is worried hanging around will create some sort of pressure on the choice you need to make.

With your old job winding down and the move mostly organized and settled, you spend a lot of time thinking about sleeping with Hongjoong. You carefully weigh the pros and cons, you consider what it would do to any possible friendship you could have with him after the move, and then you think about how he more than likely has been interested in you for years and just would never say anything about it. In fact, he seems content to let you go without asking you to go out on a date.

With anyone else, you’d assume this is because he is more interested in using you to rip the ‘virgin’ label off him. However, you know your roommate well enough to be aware that he wouldn’t act like that. In suggesting this to you, and mentioning his earlier anxiety about having sex, you believe that his feelings for you just make the entire process simpler and less stressful. He seems to be aware that, up until now, you have never looked at him in anything other than the light of a roommate and he didn’t want to ruin that by telling you of his affections.

But tonight, you texted him asking to talk and a few hours later, a little after eight pm, the front door of the apartment opens and you hear Hongjoong’s boots against the floor. You are nervous, unsure how this is going to play out. There is silence and then a hard knock on the door.

After telling him to come in, he opens the door and hovers in the entrance. Tonight he’s wearing a white button up and as usual, it is a little too large for him. It is purposely untucked although he has a black belt looped around it, smushing the fabric against his waist. His jeans don’t even have any holes in them and his nails are freshly painted black.

“Wow,” You say by way of greeting, “You look almost presentable.”

He rolls his eyes but the corners of his lips quirk up for a second. “New exhibit at the museum started and sometimes the staff gets bitchy if the people going during the opening week don’t look super presentable. There’s no official dress code there but you know what I mean. I didn’t feel like having a lot of old people gawk at me while I was looking at the paintings.”

“Right, I understand.”

There is a beat of silence. Hongjoong leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You can almost see the walls going up as he prepares for rejection.

“Anyway, you wanted to talk?” He prompts.

You wish he wasn’t on the other side of the room while you sit on your bed. But you know better than to make Hongjoong feel cornered, especially with such a sensitive discussion on the table.

“I wanted to talk about our conversation the other day. I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”

“Alright…” He trails off, quickly masking the sudden insecurity that is hitting him by darting his eyes away from you.

You inhale slowly and then go, “I want to. If you still are interested, I mean.”

Hongjoong’s eyes snap back in your direction, the surprise written all over his face. The vulnerability shown there takes you by surprise, a glimpse underneath his cool exterior that you weren’t prepared for.

But then the look is gone, replaced with that typical hard expression. He narrows his eyes, pushing away from the doorframe and towards you. “Do you mean it? You’re not just saying this because you feel pressured? Because it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t feel pressured. I want to.”

“Why?” His tone is laced with hostility, another defense mechanism he’s deploying in navigating this conversation.

Hongjoong stands in front of you now, smelling of clean laundry and his familiar cologne still clinging to his skin. Tilting your face to look upwards at him, you speak.

“Because your logic makes sense. If it’s awkward or terrible, I’m moving and we don’t ever have to see one another again. We’ve known each other for years. I’m comfortable with you. And…” You steel yourself for the next comment, unsure how he will take it. “And I figured it out. How you feel about me.”

Hongjoong goes very still, staring at you with a careful blank stare on his face. But for all his attempts at coming off indifferent, he flexes the fingers of his right hand to try to steady his nerves.

You continue to talk, although it is in a bit of a faster voice than before, nervous Hongjoong is going to take something the wrong way and leave. “I know you didn’t mean for me to learn that you might see more as more than friends or a roommate. I only realized it after you asked me about sleeping together. I understand your reasoning more now; it isn’t just about the fact I am moving away. Your feelings about me make the entire thing a little more comfortable, a little less anxiety inducing. I get it.”

“I don’t want you sleeping with me out of pity,” He replies stiffly.

“I’m not.”

“How is this not pity?” He says hotly.

“Because you told me to think about it. About being with you. So, I thought about it.”

“And?” He demands, refusing to budge from his hostility.

You take a steadying breath and bring your hands carefully forward, gently grabbing onto the belt around his waist, giving it a small tug to bring Hongjoong closer. “And I want you,” You say simply.

Something in his fragile face seems to shift at the words, like small cracks in fine china. One second, he stands in front of you defensive and on edge. In the next second, he is bending down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his lips hot against yours. You gasp in surprise, muffled in the kiss. Even with all your daydreaming about him since his admission of being a virgin, the reality of Hongjoong kissing you is a bit surreal.

Your hands grip his belt, pulling on it to lead him onto the bed as you lay back against the pillows, not breaking the kiss. His tongue slips in your mouth and there is heat growing in your body like a slow wave. You weren’t expecting the kiss to be this intense, unsure what it would be like to actually have him in this manner.

The kiss ends suddenly and Hongjoong is peering closely at your face. His breathing is uneven and his normally guarded expression is open with all the concerns and worries floating around in his head.

You are slightly disoriented from the kiss, wondering why he stopped.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks in a soft voice, the softest you’ve heard from him.

You swallow hard, disbelieving that he does not see the impact the kiss had on you. “Yeah, unless…unless you’re having second thoughts.”

“I’m not,” He goes and there is that same defiance creeping back in his tone, that jagged edge of his personality you have grown so accustomed to over the years. “I just wasn’t sure if you were.”

“I’m not, Joong. I want – I mean, you can kiss me again. If you want.”

His lips are back against yours, not requiring another suggestion nor word from you. This time, your hands circle around his waist, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hands, holding onto him while continuing to kiss. All that making out must have paid off because Hongjoong’s kisses are the type that leave you breathless, your heart thrumming in your chest like a trapped bird.

But he sticks to kissing and it strikes you that he is not going to be as in charge or bossy as you previously thought. He is simply too shy to act on what he wants, tying into his story about his anxiety and how it kept him from losing his virginity.

You begin to kiss along his jawline and down his neck. The touch makes him shiver and you realize how sensitive he is. Carefully, you bring one hand upwards to his hair, the blue strands curling around your fingers, feeling the softness against your skin. Hongjoong’s breath hitches; it is a foreign sound to you, something entirely brand new from a person you believed to know almost everything about.

“Does that feel nice?” You ask quietly in between kissing along his neck.

Hongjoong makes a soft humming noise in response, a mixture of too shy and too turned on to speak. Carefully, you change positions so that he is now underneath your body. You’re straddling him, leaning forward to drape your body against his, finding his lips once more. His hands tentatively move along your sides, just brushing underneath your shirt to touch bare skin.

Your body shivers from the slight touch which seems to give Hongjoong confidence because his fingers trail upwards, underneath your shirt and stopping right where your bra begins. He is stiff in his jeans and it is difficult to hold back and not grind down against his body just to hear what your roommate sounds like turned on.

Moving your hand away from Hongjoong’s hair, you bring it to meet where his hovers. Carefully, you cover his hand with yours, allowing it to travel upwards to your bra. His breathing has quickened as he begins to grope you. Shyly, his other hand comes to your chest, squeezing your tits as you resume kissing him.

Your tongue is in his mouth and your brain is overrun by the scent of him, the sensation of his hands, how he feels underneath your body. You’re wet, you realize with a jolt, turned on by Hongjoong and the gentle unraveling of him occurring so close to you.

The kiss breaks and this time you’re studying Hongjoong’s face. There is a hint of colour in his cheeks, his lips are flushed from all the making out and he has one tiny hickey already forming on the delicate skin of his neck. You don’t even recall giving it to him.

The expression in his eyes is one of an unraveling – his typical tough guy posture is being pulled away like a cover off a painting, exposing the centre of Hongjoong in a way that you have never seen before.

The desire to see Hongjoong completely undone hits you squarely in the chest. It is a powerful urge to see what he looks and sounds like when he is experiencing intense pleasure. You pull off your t-shirt, tossing it to the side. Hongjoong swallows hard, eyes widening while you unclasp your bra and bring his hands back up to your bare breasts.

He seems entranced with groping them, brushing his fingertips across your nipples. When it makes you shiver, he repeats the action, clearly studying what makes you react the most. You’re swiftly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, stopping to remove his belt which drops off the bed with a clatter. He sits up slightly as you peel it off his shoulders, removing it entirely and leaving Hongjoong bare chested.

Running your hands down his chest, you take in the sight of his toned chest and hard abdomen. Experimentally, you rock your hips just a little, just enough to put some pressure on his groin. He inhales sharply, eyes closing for a moment. Hongjoong is a delicate thing underneath you, sensitive to any and all pleasure that is entirely brand new to him.

You slide off him, kicking off your shorts and unzipping his pants. He lifts his hips to allow them to be removed, leaving him in just his boxers. Your gaze turns to Hongjoong, making sure he is doing okay. There is a look of determination in his eyes to keep going although there is still the same hint of vulnerability that grows stronger every time an article of clothing is removed.

“You wanna keep going?” You check in.

Hongjoong nods firmly although his voice is soft when replying, “Don’t stop.”

Your hand glides over his thigh and up to his boxers, rubbing him gently. There is a small moan from him, so quiet as if he is holding back. You squeeze his cock through the boxers and his eyes close tightly, mumbling a curse under his breath.

Slowly, you pull down his boxers, freeing his cock from them. Hongjoong is stiff and warm, the heavy weight of his length against his stomach. You wrap your hand around his cock and he whimpers. Having never heard such a noise from him before, you stop, letting him get used to the sensation.

But Hongjoong doesn’t seem to be interested in stopping because in a breathless voice he goes, “P-please.”

Hearing him so desperate leaves you unable to refuse. You spit in the palm of your hand and slowly stroke Hongjoong’s length, fighting the urge to take him in your mouth. But you don’t want to overwhelm Hongjoong with too much, not now, not for his first time. Instead, you lean forward and plant one kiss on the tip which elicits a groan from your roommate.

“Is there a certain way you’d like to do this?” You ask, wanting him to make all the choices.

Hongjoong opens his eyes, casting a look downward while you stroke his length. His breathing is shallow, his pupils blown out with desire and his blue hair framing his elegant face.

“Just…if you could…” His shyness is growing by the second, completely unlike every conversation you’ve ever had before with him, “If you could be on top,” He finishes quickly, the colour in his cheeks deepening.

You’re surprised again at how Hongjoong is like putty in your hands, so swift to give over all control and let you lead the process. For someone who is usually outspoken and bossy, this turn is enticing. Seeing your roommate crumble from every touch makes the pull towards him even more acute.

Slipping your underwear off, you straddle Hongjoong. His cock presses in between your folds and he moans again. His blue hair is splayed against the pillow, a bright splash of electric ocean that only highlights his small frame and tender appearance.

Positioning yourself so that his cock is at your entrance, you lower your hips. His cock pushes inside your wet hole and Hongjoong groans louder, his head rolling back as the pleasure engulfs his length. He enters easily, your pussy slick with juices from just exploring and touching him. When he is fully inside your cunt, you go still, letting him get used to being inside you.

Hongjoong is unspooling in front of you. All the previous hostile energy he used to protect himself is gone. The fragility on display now is both a turn on and endearing. His bandaged hand grips the bed sheets, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. The colour deepens across his cheeks, making him look almost like a sunset across the ocean.

You lean forward and kiss him. He tilts his face to meet your lips, the desperation evident in how he moves his tongue and the way he is trembling underneath your body. You still don’t move your hips, enjoying the sensation of Hongjoong’s cock buried in you.

He is kissing along your jaw and down your neck, growing bold enough to bring his hands around your back, gently indicating to move forward a little. As you do so, your pussy tightens around his cock and Hongjoong groans again as his lips find your nipples, placing one in your mouth so he can suck on them. Your hands are next to his head, gripping the sheets as you begin to move your hips back, starting to ride him.

Hongjoong switches to your other nipple, his teeth grazing the skin as he gropes your other breast with his hand. When he slips your nipple out of his mouth, his hands go to your shoulders, pulling you back down so that he can kiss you again. Your lips meet his hungrily as the rocking of your hips steadily increases. His tongue is messy in your mouth, his hands against your back, a whimpering mess with each movement taken.

You pull away, straightening out on top of him, beginning to properly bounce on his cock now. All the years of being roommates are wiped away by the sight of Hongjoong delirious with pleasure. His hands glide down to your hips as the noises tumble from his lips. Hongjoong is not quiet in the slightest; there is none of the silenced pleasure you are so used to having from your past lovers. His eyes are closed once more and his eyelashes lay against his skin like small whisps of a raven’s feathers. He arches his hips at one point as you sink down on his cock and your hands lay flat against his stomach. The muscles are hard underneath your fingers and your speed increases, driving your pussy down faster to get a stronger reaction out of Hongjoong.

It works. Whatever else residing in his brain is quickly wiped away from how good it feels. He curses loudly, his eyes opening to reveal a hazy expression of lust and desire. A strand of his blue hair lays across his forehead, his tongue pokes out from in between his lips, and his grip tightens on your hips. He is a mess, each ragged gasp and whimper his way of wishing that the pleasure would never stop, a desperate plea to extend this moment forever. It is difficult to merge the Hongjoong underneath you – the one with the flushed skin, ragged breathing and slender frame trembling – as your roommate who punched a guy from mouthing off the other night, the same man who showed no hesitation in telling someone off for the slightest mistake.

It is even trickier to accept that it is you making him feel this way. You are unsure what Hongjoong pictured for his first time but did he know how he would crumble when put against your body? Did he know that everything would be this intense due to a mixture of his feelings for you and how long you’ve known one another? Was he aware of how he would be a writhing whimpering man far removed from how he acted in public?

His jaw is clenched as he gasps out, “I’m gonna – I’m so close,” With desperation he pulls at you, bringing your body against his as he pleads, “Kiss me.”

Your lips are hot on his, the kiss desperate, your tongues pressing together as you bring your hips down one final time. Hongjoong’s groan is muffled as he begins his climax. He clings to you, his arms around your back, fingernails gently pressing into your skin. The kiss ends and you watch as Hongjoong submits completely to his orgasm, erasing all signs of the roommate you once thought you knew. You can feel his warm cum in your cunt, the beautiful vulnerability of his facial expressions as he submits to the dizzying high of the climax.

Hongjoong’s hands slide off your back, his breathing hard and fast as he tries to wipe the haze from his brain. Carefully, you move off his lap, laying down next to him. Your eyes rake across his body, admiring his small frame, his chest and messy hair. He opens his eyes and turns onto his side, propping himself up a little to stare at you. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light.

You are unsure how to start the conversation. How do you ask your roommate if losing his virginity was enjoyable? His cum is leaking out of your pussy, something you never thought would happen. Casual conversation at this point seems asinine.

But before you can utter a word, Hongjoong looks crossed and goes, “You didn’t cum.”

The ever familiar expression of hostility creeps back across his pretty face, a signal to a return to form. The satisfaction that just obliterated his earlier composure is swiftly replaced by a petulant expression.

“Oh,” You’re surprised, not thinking he noticed nor care so much, “I mean, this was more about you than me…” You trail off, taking note of his frown.

“Who said that?” He demands, “Just teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

A tiny bit of timidity creeps back into his eyes but he resolutely pushes through it and goes, “How to eat your pussy.”

It’s the dirtiest thing Hongjoong has ever said to you and momentarily renders you speechless. Finally, you nod, moving back among the pillows. Hongjoong doesn’t waste a moment, shifting so that he is in front of you. His hands are on your thighs and he gently spreads your legs apart. Having him looking at your pussy which still has his cum leaking out of it feels incredibly intimate and you’re thrown off by the sudden timidness that is sweeping over you.

Hongjoong’s cheeks are flushing with colour again but the expression on his face is one of determination and a growing passion. He brings two fingers down along your slit, spreading your lips apart just enough to take in the sight of his cum in your hole.

In a shaky voice, he goes, “You have a pretty pussy.” You are unsure if it is nerves making his voice quake, lust or a mixture of both. He slips his fingers in his mouth for a couple of seconds and then brings one to your entrance, pushing it inside. “Is that okay?”

You nod but then realize Hongjoong is too busy staring at the way you’re taking his finger. “Y-yeah, that’s perfect.”

“I like pushing my load back in you,” His voice is soft and tentative, dirty talk being something new to him, but you give him credit for pushing through his anxiety, “It looks good.”

You bring your hand down to your clit, rubbing it a little while saying, “Bring your tongue here –” The rest of your explanation is cut off as Hongjoong doesn’t waste a second, lowering his face to your pussy and rolling his tongue across your clit.

You curse in surprise as Hongjoong’s tongue presses against your nub, his finger pumping in your hole slowly. At first, his movements are a little awkward and unsure but with more guiding, he switches to flicking his tongue across your clit while inserting a second finger. This feels much better and Hongjoong seems pleased to hear the moans that are flowing freely from your mouth now.

He fucks you faster with his fingers, burying them inside you. Your pussy is a mess of his cum and your wetness and as his pace accelerates, so do the lewd noises of your hole taking him. At one point, he pulls away to watch how your hole is wrapped around his fingers. He looks entranced and when he suddenly looks up, his face is covered in you and his cheeks are a deep pink.

“Am I…am I doing okay?” He asks, unsure of himself.

“Yes,” You breathe out, “Can you fuck me faster? And try sucking on my clit.”

Hongjoong, apparently ever obedient in bed, wraps his lips around your swollen clit while picking up the speed of his finger thrusts. You gasp, your hand going to his hair, curling it around your fingertips. You quietly urge him to keep going, noticing that each compliment you give him only seems to make Hongjoong more determined to bring you to climax. Out of all the interesting things you’re learning about your roommate today, finding out he has an affinity to being complimented for doing a good job has to be the most surprising.

“Don’t stop, Joong,” You plead as his fingers are buried in your cunt and he is switching between sucking and flicking his tongue over your clit as your thighs shake, “Please, you’re doing such a good job.”

He makes a noise that is almost a sigh of contentment, not stopping for a moment. Your climax begins with one final movement of his tongue. Between his fingers and how he works your clit, you lose yourself to Hongjoong. Your grip on his hair tightens as the bliss reaches its peak. His name tumbles from your lips as he stops touching your clit and instead slips his tongue inside your hole. The slurping sounds are obscene yet he doesn’t seem to care. It is only when your orgasm finally subsides that your hold on his hair releases and you are trying to catch your breath.

A second later, Hongjoong’s head pops up in your vision, his expression as earnest as you’ve ever seen it. “Was that good? Did I do a good job?”

You know that it’ll be a secret taken to your grave that Hongjoong turns into a needy little thing in bed. You would never want to ruin his reputation.

In response, you reach out, yanking him down so that the two of you are kissing. He makes a noise of surprise but returns the kiss immediately. He tastes like your arousal; he tastes like you want more of him.

Stepping back into your room after cleaning up, now dressed back in your clothes, Hongjoong is just finishing doing up the last button on his dress shirt. He glances up at your entrance. His face is back in its usual neutral expression although the way his fingers shake against the button betrays his real emotions.

“Are you leaving?” You ask curiously.

Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, got some stuff to do.” He’s lying and you know it but don’t want to press things.

Yet you still wonder what happens now. Knowing about his feelings for you combined with the sexual chemistry, you think it would be a shame if things just really ended here. You hadn’t expected sex to be that enjoyable nor had you thought that Hongjoong unraveling underneath your body would have looked so good.

“Joong, before you go…”

He looks up from zipping up his jeans, his belt hanging loosely in between his fingers. His eyes are guarded, his disposition wary. All the walls are back up.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I mean, is that just…it? You ‘lost’ your virginity and I just move out and we barely talk anymore?”

His brow furrows, his piercings glinting as he walks towards you. You aren’t sure why you’re pressing this discussion now minus a gut feeling that if you don’t do it at this very moment, Hongjoong is going to slip out the front door because his vulnerability will lead him to clamming up. You’ll move out and probably never see him again.

His back is against the doorframe, his gaze heavy on yours. His shirt hangs off him loosely, the front dipping to reveal the top of his chest. The hickey has darkened against his skin.

“What else is there?” He juts his chin out but a flicker of anxiety in his eyes exposes him.

“I liked being with you. It felt good and…” Slightly embarrassing to admit this aloud but you keep going, “I like you. I realized it when you were underneath me. I know you have feelings for me. Why can’t we see where this goes after I move out?”

He looks surprised but quickly covers it up with a cocky expression, poking his finger against your hip. “You want me to ask you out on a date, don’t you?”

“Well…yes.”

Another poke. “You had that much fun with me?”

“You’re fishing for compliments now.”

“You were quick to give them out when we were fucking,” He retorts, “Why can’t I get any now?”

“Because you’re back to being Mr. Cool Guy and I thought you don’t want any compliments unless someone is like ‘nice right hook’ or something.”

His hand comes to a stop on your hip, looking at you with the expression of a cat that just found a glass of milk unattended. “Come out with me on a date.”

Hongjoong has looked at you a thousand times over the years but never quite so openly as he is right now. You can feel it all the way down to your toes and it throws you completely off balance. The dichotomy of him during sex and outside of sex makes the magnetic pull stronger.

“Okay,” You say simply as his hand snakes to your lower back and pushes you forward just enough so that he is pressing against your body, “O-oh!” You gasp in surprise and then quickly try to brush it off with the question, “What are we gonna do on the date?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll do the typical tedious date shit,” His eyes drop to your lower half before raising one eyebrow, “Maybe afterwards though, I can do what I did earlier. I gotta admit that it was pretty fun to hear you be that loud just because of my tongue,” He leans forward, bringing his lips close to your ear, “And you tasted good too.”

Your head spins, surprised at how easily Hongjoong can bounce back from being such a whimpering mess to openly flirting about eating you out. But Hongjoong has always displayed a cocky exterior and it didn’t look like that was going to magically change. You’re also taken aback by how weak in the knees you feel.

Swatting his hand away, you take a step back, hoping he can’t tell how flustered you are or you’ll never hear the end of it. “Didn’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I was lying to get out of here in case the conversation got awkward,” He openly admits, looping his belt through his jeans, shaking his blue hair out of his eyes, “But now I’m actually hungry. You wanna grab something to eat with me? Strictly in a roommate capacity.”

“Sure. Let me get ready real quick.”

“Alright,” He turns to walk out of your room but stops when you say his name, looking over his shoulder, “What?”

“Do you feel any different? Now that you’re not a virgin, I mean.”

Hongjoong looks thoughtful for a moment and then shrugs. “Nah, I feel the same. I guess because I lost it to you.” The words take you by surprise and there is a small hint of colour on his cheeks at the admission. “It just felt natural with you. You’re ah…always the one I wanted to lose it with,” He scowls then as if disgusted by opening up in such a manner, “Come on, go change. I’m seriously starving.”

You watch him leave, shutting the door behind him. In the quiet space of your room, you press your fingers against your chest, feeling the thrum of your heart. Maybe it had been easy to overlook Hongjoong all these years due to the formality of being roommates.

But it is evident to your mind and body that you are no longer overlooking your vulnerable yet prideful roommate thanks to his drunken declaration a few nights ago.

Lucky you.

the end.

Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @halazea - @moonsangie - @woosfantasy - @yungiology - @erensluut - @yeosang-dot-mp3 - @lvnateez - @carodrug - @fruitcakebin - @yyakitori - @salam2salang - @cath1418 - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @leo-seonghwa - @silentcry329 - @shesinthrain - @northerngalxy - @ateezstanforever - @yourfatherlucifer - @jagiyaracha - @myyyshinelight - @marievllr-abg - @kibs-and-bits - @ddeonghwassimp - @oizyscherry - @lil-killer-kitten - @necessiteez - @lmnhead - @thesongofalyssa - @orithyia-eriphyle - @turtash - @mingigiggles - @tvxqnnie - @biddes-enthusiast - @seonghwasmuffin - sorry, it didn't let me tag some of yall.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #hongjoong fics #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #kpop fic #declaration #500 notes #1000 notes

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slavghoul · 9 months

Text

Interview from Metal Hammer 8/2023

LIFE LESSONS from TOBIAS FORGE

Shock rock, bad glam bands and wanting to be Venom: inside the brain of Ghost's benevolent overlord

Tobias Forge is the mastermind behind one of the 21st century's hottest metal bands, but even he’ll admit that success was a long time in the making. Hailing from the Swedish city of Linköping, the Ghost frontman dabbled in everything from death metal to glam before donning the iconic Papal attire and paint to transform into Papa Emeritus, transcending his roots to become a larger-than-life character. Here are the key parables he has to share, gleaned from more than 25 years on the heavy metal frontlines.

MUSIC AND MOVIES ARE GATEWAYS TO OTHER WORLDS

“Linköping was a nice city to grow up in. It wasn’t so small you felt like you were cramped in a village, but it’s small enough that you’d still want to eventually move somewhere else. You’d have access to all these gateways to other worlds through the record stores and the local video store. My dreams started there - everything I do now, I dreamt back there.”

I WAS A TEENAGE HEADBANGER

“I had a teenage brother growing up, so I had a free pass into teenage culture. Whatever they consumed, I got a whiff of - how they dressed, what they watched on TV, what films they rented... The lifestyle and expression that meant most to me was shock rock. Twisted Sister were a wrecking ball into my life with I Wanna Rock. That song made me want to bounce!”

THE HEAVIER IT GOT, THE DEEPER I WANTED TO GO

“When I first heard Candlemass, I was eight and I was blown away. I already liked Black Sabbath, Metallica and Motorhead through my brother, but Candlemass were local and sounded so heavy, it was like doomsday. King Diamond and Candlemass served as a segue for me to discover death metal and black metal in the early 90s. It became my calling. From the ages of 12 to 22, I spent my life in death and black metal bands.”

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (AND SOMETIMES YOUR WALLET)

“My mom is from Stockholm, so when I was 15 and started saying I wanted to move there, she was just like ‘Finish mandatory school’ and we moved together [after I graduated]. I moved back to Linköping when I was 25, because Stockholm is a big metropolitan place and it’s not fun living in those places if you don’t have money. Now I’m in Stockholm again; it’s more fun now I can afford it!”

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, FEET ON THE GROUND

“I learned the hard way in the late 90s that wanting to play 80s-inspired death metal with my band Repugnant was painfully out of touch with what was going on at the time. It broke my heart; I wanted us to be signed to Roadrunner and support Slayer. That never happened unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as it kept me grounded for a few more years and if those things had happened maybe I wouldn't be here today.”

TAKE CHANCES, BUT STAND YOUR GROUND

“Repugnant had a close shave with success. We signed to the label Hammerheart, which at the time felt like we’d made it because the first thing they did was take us out on our first tour, supporting the American band Macabre. They were a favourite band of ours - still are, and whenever we play Chicago they come to the shows - and at that point it felt like we might be going somewhere, but we quickly parted ways with Hammerheart because we couldn’t agree. It felt like our chance and we’d blown it.”

NOT ALL 80S BANDS WERE CREATED EQUAL

“With Crashdiet, we never really went beyond our home. I can’t say how many shows we did, but I don’t think it was more than a handful. For me especially there was conflict with the singer, Dave Lepard. We were friends, but he clearly wanted to take his band into some sort of glam-sleaze direction, whereas when I think of ‘glam’ I’m more Hanoi Rocks and Guns N’ Roses - never, ever the other bands. I know Poison kinda came before a lot of the latecomers, but to me they were repellent. Dave wanted to go all neon and I wanted it so that if we were glam, we’d be Hanoi Rocks meets Lords Of The New Church or The Dead Boys. I don’t want to be fucking Stryper! Fuck that!”

THERE’S NO POINT TRYING TO FOLLOW FASHION

“It was a confusing time in the early 2000s – rock was all of a sudden in fashion because of bands like Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Everyone was always looking for the next big rock band and in Sweden The Hives were huge, as were The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, The Hellacopters, Backyard Babies...so many rock bands! But there we were in Subvision, influenced by The Dead Boys, with a little-too-long hair, leather jackets, just a little too ‘metal’... yuck! You’re supposed to be more indie; heavy metal is about having the biggest dick and indie is the opposite.”

FIRST IMPRESSIONS REALLY DO COUNT

“I hated The Strokes when they first came out. Back then, everyone described them as being so natural, that they weren’t interested in being rock stars, and I was like, ‘No. They didn’t wake up looking like that.' They chose to do that to be rock stars. And they can really play! Then when First Impressions Of Earth came out it was like, ‘There you go! That's what they really sound like! After that, I loved The Strokes, because they were showing they actually did love the music, but a lot of indie rockers treated it like it was their sell-out record.”

HAVE A VISION IN MIND

“Ghost started with a song, Stand By Him, which ultimately came out on our first record. I wrote it spontaneously, as an experiment - almost a joke, if you will, in 2006. When I recorded it the first time, I had no equipment in my home, so I had to go to a friend’s house. We did this very rough demo. He said it was great. He’d been in Subvision, Repugnant and Crashdiet with me, but we’d stopped playing together. He was like, ‘Can we form a new band?’ and I was like, ‘This song is the only thing I have. If I can come up with two more songs and there’s a pattern, then of course.’ But they needed to be as playful and spontaneous, and sure enough they were.”

PRESSURE CAN DO WONDERS

“Around 2008, when Ghost were first getting properly started, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant with twins. I never said it out loud, but I was preparing for my dream not coming true - maybe I wouldn’t become a rock star, I’d never be successful... So I had to at least have something that I could live with, a hobby that I could feel strongly about and get all my inclinations filtered through. I wanted to play metal, but also write pop music, have this horror rock show with theatre... Still taking inspiration from Venom pictures in 1982 where they looked like bikers surrounded by smoke and red lights. Ghost felt like a combination of all those things. Lo and behold, when I didn’t have all the time in the world, like I had before and gotten nowhere, when I could only put so much effort in, everything changed.”

THE MYTHOS IS NICE, BUT ONLY THE MUSIC MATTERS

“It was so weird, being threatened with a ‘reveal’ [Tobias’s public identity was revealed after ex-members took legal action against him in 2017I, as if people knowing who I was would be such a turn-off that they’d never listen to Ghost again. Here I am, most of my life wanting to be known, but then I was fighting to be unknown? What a paradox!”

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

“I’ve always tried to be like a general – have a goal, like, ‘Let’s take that castle’, but knowing that things can change in the field. You need to conduct yourself with a certain level of elasticity. I know I’m a control freak and want things to be done in a certain way, but I’m also aware things never work out that way.”

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

“One of the biggest weaknesses with modern metal - and horror - is that it’s being created and curated by people who only like that thing, so it becomes regurgitation. The best horror movies I’ve seen - Jaws, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Exorcist, The Omen - were made by people who never made horror films elsewhere. They wouldn’t limit themselves. If you don’t like other things, that’s fine, but if you ever feel stuck creatively it might just be that you’re sticking too close to home. I can’t even imagine just sticking to one lane these days.”

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

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I would like to request 141 and Konig noticing that they needed something from the reader (presence, hearing the voice, something the reader gave them) to calm down and they notice they are in love with the reader and they're just "I'm fcked". If it was too vague you don't need to do it, thank you and be safe

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°⋆࿓ Needing You // 141 headcanons (+ k)

『♡』 masterlist ♡ rules ♡ ask box Warning(s): none, sfw + gn!reader Word Count: 641. A/N: might start answering requests in this shorter "drabble" format. It takes a lot less time on my end, and I think it looks better :)

SYNOPSIS; he realizes he needs you; a.k.a head over heels in love with you. ˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

price realizes when he feels his exterior soften. sure, he's still the same on the battlefield. but, even at work, when there aren't bullets plummeting toward him — you've gotten to him. he'll take the teases of his coworkers, all of it, only because you're there.

price is no less professional, no less of a leader, but even the most clueless on his team noticed how much... lighter he seemed. less tension in his shoulders, no more evenings with a half-empty body to cradle until he passes out.

he would never the subtle changes unless someone pointed it out (if they dared). you, with him, strong in the areas where he's weak. that's what a man like john needs.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

simon realizes when he can't fight himself anymore. when he stumbled his way up the stairs after an exhausting mission, ripped his mask off his head, and wanted nothing but you. your touch, your scent, your roaming fingers, the whispers of comfort you provide him.

the mattress creaks under his dead weight as he settles into his side of the bed, wrapping both arms around your torso, gripping on like you were his lifeline.

in a literal sense, you were. you were the reason simon fought so hard to get home. he couldn't restrict himself anymore. once, it was him convinced he would poison you with his past, and now he only cared that you were a part of his future.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

soap realizes when you've become a drug. him, wrapped around your finger so tight he'll never let go. once he falls — he falls hard. it's a bad habit of johnny's. but with you, this run is different. you understand him... or try to, and that's enough to make him sink to his knees in worship of you.

anything you need; it's yours. something material, something verbal, something subtle, something from himself. he'll have moments where he gains awareness of just how far he will go for you, yet he wouldn't change a second of it.

you stuck around this long for a reason, right? besides, he never learns his lessons, nor does he give up. he's your rock and that's how a man like soap wants it.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

gaz realizes when he spends every waking moment wanting to talk to you. for a man so content with his own solitude, it's a striking contrast to who he was before he met you. video calls, text paragraphs, even letters if he's deserted enough on deployment.

[password locked for safety, of course] he has countless screenshots on his personal cell. sometimes they're of you half-asleep on call, a smile he caught in time, others are blurry because you were in the middle of moving.

his letters are an array of entertainment written just for you. sights he saw across the world, a joke he heard, what he wants to do with you when he's home — all a distraction from the warfare surrounding him as the ink glides across the paper.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

könig realizes when you consume his thoughts. he's focused, driven, a calamitous workaholic, even. not for long, though. his work is still a heavy portion of who he is, and that's how he wants it to be. there's no way you'll ever be the highest priority — but you'll be the closest thing to it he can manage.

he finds himself searching for you first, no matter the situation. even when everything is in order, his eyes are glued to you. if he's occupied, you'll always get that voiceless nod from him, as his gaze wanders.

könig's touches become less about intimacy and more a reassurance to himself that you're still his.

————— ୨୧ ————— divider cred. - cafekitsune

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imaginingbleach · 18 days

Text

Something that randomly came to mind...

Enjoy!

(NSFW below the cut; espadas included: 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8 & Neliel)

Struggled a bit with 8, so forgive me. 😭

Types of Doms they are:

Starrk

This man has got exactly two modes when it comes to sex. Lazy or feral.

He's willing to do a lot with you, but if you catch him in his lazy mode you'll likely be doing most of the work.

Ride him, suck him, hell he'll even give you oral if you both find the right positions for him to laze a out.

Just remember: It's not that he isn't enjoying himself; that rock hard dick proves otherwise...

You knew what you were getting into.

Now then, switching gears: when he's feral, he'll barely let you move.

He's making you cum a minimum of one time before he's even going to penetrate you in any way.

He gets very possessive in this state.

Congratulations! You've essentially got a werewolf boyfriend who's usually lazy and can't transform like that...

But! When he needs to claim you for whatever reason? Welp!

Communication is key with this man! He doesn't mind if you have multiple partners, but he can get a bit jealous if you don't tell him!

Hell, you'll find out on more than one occasion, when someone flirts with you...

He'll bring you home and claim you all night long.

He might not even make it home.

Just... Keep him in the loop if you're crushing or plan to date another. it'll probably save some furniture.

Halibel

As she can't quite use her mouth outside of being in her release form, she's had time to master plenty of other ways to get you off.

She prefers to use her hands and fingers on you, but is not opposed to toys in anyway.

That's primarily for when she's doing any for of penetration on you, though.

She has learned to use any and every part of her body to be able to tease you and leave you squirming and begging for her.

Don't call her master. It reminds her of her fraccións.

May accept being called mommy under the right circumstances, though.

Has absolutely no issues with being called daddy.

Just sit on her lap and ask daddy politely if you can ride her thigh~

Not one to get jealous easily, but is definitely protective.

This is particularly true if you are someone who can be seen as weak to others.

Not very loud, but loves hearing how loud she can make you.

Ulquiorra

He struggles a lot with more human like needs and emotions

So he tends to be a heavy service top...

But it comes with so many questions.

"Why does your face warm when I kiss you?"

"Why do you avert your gaze when I-"

You get the idea.

Eventually once repeated behaviors rise up, he starts catching on.

When you make this sound, it means you really like it.

When you squirm, you're not actually trying to get away.

Just simple stuff, but you'll have had to explain it to him a bit before he starts connecting the dots.

Once he's more comfortable with you and starts recognizing these reactions...

You're in for it.

He's definitely someone who gets off on your pleasure.

As long as you're satisfied, so is he.

Nnoitra

He surprisingly doesn't mind being the one to do all the work.

It let's him be in control of, well, everything.

There's something about seeing how much you get off on everything he does to you that drives the predator in him wild.

He enjoys having control, and, having you submit to let him do whatever he wants is too delicious to pass up.

Plus, he can't help but enjoy the way you always act like such cute little prey when he's teasing you.

Those big doe eyes, the small squeaky and whiny noises you make...

The way he can make you come undone with almost any part of his body...

It's very >:))

Not entirely against sharing, but like with Starrk, if it's not discussed he can get a bit jealous

His jealousy, however, is usually more rage fueled than hormonal so watch out for that.

He's not too into being called anything "special"

May accept "daddy" now and again

Despite how kinky sex with him might be-- it is fueled by emotions (at least on his end)

You've sparked his interest in one way or another enough to warrant wanting to carnally claim you...

There's at least some attachments and calling him "master" immediately throws that out the window to him.

Grimmjow

He definitely still has some characteristics from his more beastial hollow form

His need to claim you is always in battle with his desire to see you submit to him

Kneel before the king and offer him a blowjob, he's grinning wider than Nnoitra

Seeing you beg him to pleasure you is just 😘

Part of the problem with him is that it's a bit difficult for him to give oral... Given that he has to be very conscious of every move he makes because of his hollow mask

But he is a god with his hands.

He's another one who likes to watch you ride his thighs.

Absolutely gets off on being called king, but will absolutely bust a nut if you refer to him as your husband (romantic partner ofc)

This is at it's worst before any kind of marriage, but it's still effective after.

Doesn't see the appeal in being called daddy until he *is* a daddy 👀 something about being one makes it kinkier to him for you to call him daddy

Szayel

A bit different from the others on the list in that he wants to be worshipped like a god.

He wants you to use your entire body to do so, but this is just the first act-- no form of penetration just yet. (Minus maybe deep throating him~)

Now, once that's all done he's got PLENTY of ways to pleasure you...

He's definitely into orgasm denial and overstimulation.

He likes testing your body~

If you're willing, definitely would do some experimenting...

He wouldn't do anything too drastic, though.

If not, he'll find a way to make some of his palatable for you~

You really should thank him for thinking of you.

So/so with names. The higher status the name gives him, the more he'll like it.

Neliel

Dommy mommy 🥰

She absolutely loves to spoil you during kinky times together

Another one who gets off more on your pleasure than her own

If you're not a pillow prince(ss) type of sub, she will boss you around a bit~

But she's so sweet when she does that it just has you melting at her every word

"What was that, baby? Tell mommy what you want~"

She might tease you with that one by having you with a gag in your mouth or other things 🤭

Absolutely does get off on taking care of you

Dotes on you, takes great lengths into making sure you're comfortable during aftercare!

Doesn't matter how you compare size wise to her, she's holding you on her and letting you rest your head on her chest

Makes an amazing pillow ngl

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corrodedbisexual · 1 year

Text

I am once again thinking about Steve's injuries. Specifically, the road rash on his back and the back of his arms.

So... About a year ago I slid on a wet rock on a mountain hike and broke the fall on a rocky surface with my bare knee. The surface was relatively smooth, and the overall slide was... maybe half a meter. Nowhere near close to what Steve went through.

Several points from personal observation, in case you're curious and haven't scraped your skin much since you were a child learning to ride a bike and don't remember how it goes, and the resulting headcanons. (Having thought about it, I myself will try to incorporate this into my post-Vecna fics more, bc honestly there's never enough attention paid to it, and in the long run it might just be 100 times more of a bitch than the bat bites, despite not being immediately life threatening, due to the enormous surface of the skin affected.)

1) It doesn't really hurt that much right after the injury. The scrapes are shallow, there's little blood, it's mostly just mangled skin. So despite this being a common criticism of the canon, it's entirely plausible Steve could shrug that off and keep focused on the Vecna shit without treating it. I'll allow it.

2) The fun begins about a day later, when the injury really starts to scab. A knee or an elbow is probably the worst fucking place to get scraped: every tiny movement of your joints results in extreme stretching of the scabbing skin, damaging it over and over again when it's just begun to heal. I spent a week walking with a limp. But really it applies to any part of your body that moves a lot. For Steve, I'd say the worst would be his shoulder blades. Raising his arms, lifting anything heavy, anything that stretches the skin on his back would hurt like a bitch in his condition after a couple of days.

3) Also, he wouldn't be able to comfortably sleep on his back, or lean back in a chair. No fucking way. The edges of the scabs are sharp. When pressed on, they dig into your skin. Ouch.

4) The fun continues when it really starts to heal and ITCH! LIKE! A! MOTHERFUCKER! And of course, the scabs prevent you from scratching, because your body is smart like that, so of course you start peeling them. But you can't do that if it's on your back. I just imagine Steve behaving like a flea infested bear, trying to scratch his back against tree trunks and door frames while everyone tries to stop him from doing that because that keeps opening up his wounds. Maybe Eddie or Robin could offer him gentle backrubs when they hang out. Enough to take the edge off the itching, not enough to damage the scabs.

5) The scarring. It's not gonna be super visible, but it's gonna be there, a white spiderweb of scars. I realize that everyone's skin heals differently, and there are ointments that can help, but in the end, with all that, this is my knee about a day after the injury and 10 months later.

So, uh... Yeah. Stevie. I'm so sorry baby. (Hugging him tight to my chest)

#stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things meta #steve harrington meta #tw wounds #misha-bawlins meta

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rinbowaman · 8 months

Text

ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER TEN

Its here!!!! Sorry it's not proofread, i finished this while i was eating dinner. lol.

Warnings: Mentions of murder and kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, confrontation, slight bits of voyeurism (not full throttle like MRE, but still...) smut...lots of unprotected smut, mentions of lying and deceit, forced love, punishments (mentions of) yandere love, unhealthy and toxic relationship, abuse of authority in the relationship, dom! hee-leads, sub! y/n....cursing, and i think that's it. enjoy!

“Fuck it good for me baby…you’re doing so well.” Breathlessly, Heejeong groans each word as he stabilizes the cadence of your movements. By the foothold of his established grip, he simultaneously bounces and rocks your hips, rolling them forward and back, ensuring your silken walls massages every inch of his length. Dipping and lifting, you’re pleasantly left at the mercy of his stamina, taking in each pump he gives, watching as you take one right after the other. “Go faster…” he demands, yet you could never figure out why he, or his brother at that, berates and tells you, for each time they bounced and filled you up, they never left you with much choice or freedom to stir the motions and set the pace.

Perhaps it was just the pressure of intense ecstasy that would trigger them to speak out at random, either way, their words were always followed by a level of action through their hold on you, moving your body in the direction of how they wanted it, practically fucking you around like a ragdoll. After all the time you’ve spent with them, letting them fuck you every which way but loose, you learned and valued the aspect of a healthy relationship with great sexual desire and result, despite falling into a weakened emotional and mental state of mind, losing all will to fight and escape. Instead, you found yourself fully enveloped by the effects of Stockholm Syndrome. It’s been half a year since they’ve essentially restrained you by taking away your freedom. Through all the punishments, the constant supervision, and heavy effects of their obsession and showering affection, you caved in. You had become theirs and accepted the fate of being a prisoner in their house, your own home. The only difference between now and the start of it all, was that you not only accepted their love, but returned it. Perhaps it was just the pressure of intense ecstasy that would trigger them to speak out at random, either way, their words were always followed by a level of action through their hold on you, moving your body in the direction of how they wanted it, practically fucking you around like a ragdoll. After all the time you’ve spent with them, letting them fuck you every which way but loose, you learned and valued the aspect of a healthy relationship with great sexual desire and result, despite falling into a weakened emotional and mental state of mind, losing all will to fight and escape. Instead, you found yourself fully enveloped by the effects of Stockholm Syndrome. It’s been half a year since they’ve essentially restrained you by taking away your freedom. Through all the punishments, the constant supervision, and heavy effects of their obsession and showering affection, you caved in. You had become theirs and accepted the fate of being a prisoner in their house, your own home. The only difference between now and the start of it all, was that you not only accepted their love, but returned it.

Could anyone blame you? Perhaps. It’s not everyday you find a woman or man in a relationship that encompasses the major highlights of love and passion. Everyday, they glazed you with their intense love and sweetness; since you had become obedient and accepting of their rules, ceasing in putting up a fight or attempting your escape, the two boys were able to focus in showing you nothing but their obsessive love, and it truly was an amazing feature to experience. By day, you were cherished and pampered, practically smothered by it; yet at night, they tainted your body, bellowing out their lengths into you like a whore, fucking you until the moon was laid to rest. The most blissful switch that you ever dreamed of.

“Oh fuck!...I’m cumming…” embracing you, he tightens his arms around your waist, coiling one over the other as he pulls you in and buries his face into the gaping crevice between your breasts, immediately kissing the spot. His tongue leaks out and paves the way to your nipple, slobbering over the areola while he tenderly sucks it in, feeding off of you while keeping your legs strapped around his waist and straddling his lap.

When all was said and done, Heeseung steers the car and pulls up into the driveway. “We’re home. Did you both have fun during the ride?” he teases out as he flashes a wink through the rearview mirror, in which Heejeong catches and returns it with a chuckle as he regains his breathing. “Oh yeah we did, didn’t we?” he looks up into your eyes, reaching forward to move the bits of hair that stuck to the sweat glistening over your skin.

Once inside, the boys carried out the normal routine of cleansing your body in the shower, by caressing it. Nothing out of the ordinary, it was now normal to find yourself getting dicked down between the two, either five or six times a day, sometimes more. Finishing it all off in the shower went without saying. You lost count of how many times you asked them politely for a break, desperately needing time for the soreness and increased sensitivity to wear off before succumbing to their passionate wrath. Contrary to how insatiable they were with you, they always respected your wishes, announcing how they hated to see you in pain, unless it was them who granted it, and they always did. After each break period, the longest one being seven days, the boys would always reach a breaking point and lose control. Each time they reignited that physical passion, the balance of lovemaking was nonexistent. It really wasn’t their fault, after all, you were everything to them and they couldn’t bear to go one day without touching you, let alone multiple. So it was no surprise that the moment you begin to feel better, they made up for lost time and fucked you relentlessly on the first day, and that’s where the pain was birthed.

…………………

“Fuck baby….”

“N-no more! It hurts! Please…please go slower….”

“I know baby…believe me I’m trying…I just miss being with you like this, you have no idea….to watch you everyday looking so pretty but not being able to touch you…shit baby the effect you have on me….just take the pain for now. I promise to kiss it all better once I get this out of my system. Pinky promise…ah…God baby, fuck that dick. Fuck it until it smothers you with my kids.”

………………….

And of course, you can’t have one without the other taking his turn, pumping your already cum-stained walls with his own length.

………………….

“Please! Oh my God…please….ugh! I-I can’t take it anymore!”

“Shhh…baby, you keep talking like that, it’s only going to make me stay hard. Come here and kiss me…kiss me and take it like the champ I know you are….you fucking beautiful thing. Oh shit baby…I have to fuck you faster and harder, come here…”

………………….

Of course they secretly found it sexy to instill you with sexual pain through acts of pleasure, they’ll never admit it aloud but it was obvious to tell through their dashing smirks and lip-bites during the act. However, they knew that the pain wasn’t at all pleasant, so they would make up for it through their tender acts, always treating you like the queen you truly were to them. No one would ever be able to witness it, since they loved the privacy and the idea of having you all to themselves, but should anyone be lucky enough to see, the twins had a custom built lounge chair built for you, resembling a royal throne. Made of Mahogany cherry wood, and beige damask, silk-threaded upholstery, it was made in the design of regal Victorian fashion, and was nicely stationed in your room. Why would they ever get the idea to get you such a piece was beyond you…until later that night when they had you sit on it.

……………….

“Sit up straight baby…slouching is bad for you.”

“Ugh! I….I can’t….mmm…”

“You like that, don’t you?”

“M….mmhmm….ugh!”

“Cum baby…we wanna see you drip.”

………………

It’s such a beautiful chair, and you feel bad for ruining it by chipping bits out of the wooden arm rests each time you dug your fingernails in, but again, could anyone blame you? Of course not, not if they had seen the most sickening yet sweet acts they performed white you were on that chair. Some nights, you helplessly watched as both faces shove their way in between your thighs, holding your legs spread and open as they orally attacked your maidenhood through licks and kisses. Then there were other times you found yourself leaned over, kneecap firmly planted on the seated cushion while you gripped the armrests, getting pounded from behind in a near violent momentum. And of course…how could you ever forget the nights when one of them would sit in your throne, sliding your legs through the loopholes under each arm, forcing you to straddle their laps as they controlled the pace and movement, while the other penetrated you simultaneously.

………………

“Wait! I-I can’t take both at the same time.”

“Wanna bet, sweetheart?”

“Heeseung don’t be so brash. Come here baby, you should know by now, our sexual engagement lacks filters and boundaries, that’s what makes it beautiful…like you. Now be good, and let us both do what we live for….let us both fuck you to sleep tonight.”

……………….

Of course the first time wasn’t at all the most pleasurable experience, you could never forget that type of pain, it was unlike any other you’ve felt before. But you had to hand it to the boys, after breaking you in, dragging you to the lowest point sexually, they’d praise and tenderize you with so much love and devotion. Each time they both took you all at once, the pain would gradually fade and was replaced with ferocious orgasms, bursting one after another. Ever since, you’ve never felt intimidated by the idea of being open minded, and gave yourself fully so they could sexually devour you any which way they could. Maybe one of these days you’ll ask them to take you to the library, because in all honesty, you’re curious to see just how many positions of the Kama Sutra you three had covered.

………………………..

“This is Lisa from Channel Hybe News, here to bring you the latest on the mystery behind the killings of the young women local to the area, that has riddled the entire city in constant fear for the last two years. Authorities have revealed through their public statements, that some of the victims were as young as sixteen years old, causing an emotional uproar in the nation. Police have searched each crime scene thoroughly, yet still haven’t found any evidence or leads directing them to a prime suspect. So far, the country mourns over the loss of twelve victims, whose bodies were all found in a gruesome state. Meanwhile, the latest disappearance of the 24-year old local college student has attracted the attention of detectives and authorities, igniting a mass wide search. We can only hope that she will be found unharmed and alive.”

Walking down the stairs, you rub your eyes and hazily make your way into the kitchen. You didn’t bother getting dressed, deciding to save that for after you have your morning coffee and shower, besides, the boys loved seeing you in one of their tee-shirts. Since the fit was larger and longer, each one fitted you like a gown, a short one at that. Looking over to the smart TV in the kitchen wall, you sighed while grabbing the remote, shutting it off. It was all too depressing. For the last two years, way before you had inherited your step-brothers, a series of young women had disappeared and were later found dead; their bodies horrendously mutilated and displayed harsh evidence of unspeakable torture. The age ranges were anywhere from teenagers to women in their mid to late twenties. You recalled the times before the wedding, how your mother worried for your safety when you traveled lonesomely by public transportation to and from work or school. Naturally, once she married Danny and found out that you were “moving” in with your two brothers, she felt relieved. Of course, if she had known the truth of you living in their massive house, her fears would have been replaced with a new set. Had she ever found out how you were hijacked from your own apartment with Wendy, and forced to move in with the two people that you were quite sure had something to do with Jeff’s murder. You weren’t oblivious, the man insulted and harassed you, and that didn’t sit well with the two. Hell, you had to beg them through tears and constant pleas to stop Heeseung from making his way over to Kurt that day, six months ago, all because the two couldn’t stand that the man had feelings for you. From the way they would speak and all the things they’ve ever said, you felt deep down that despite their affection and possessiveness over you, they were quite dangerous, but what could you do? After foiling your attempts to escape and find help, they punished you countless times, “trained” you to become more obedient and loyal, and it worked out in their favor. The human mind can only take so much, so you gave up and always remained careful, ensuring to avoid everyone so as to protect them from the raging obsessive love that Heejeong and Heeseung had for you.

…………………

“You belong to us….we know that you love us too. If you break any of the rules, you already know–...our punishments will help you understand and realize your love for us. And if anyone touches or talks to you….even if they so much as look at you the wrong way, we’ll do alot worse than what we did to that asshole. Because no one….no one will disrespect you or harm you….not under our watch.”

………………….

You never brought yourself to ask or clarify on who the “asshole” was, though you assumed it was Jeff. Nonetheless, you felt it better to not know the facts, because once you confirmed that you were loved by a pair of murderous boys who were infatuated with you, and loved them back, you weren’t quite sure if you could live with yourself knowing that. Sure, it was screwed up…but so was this entire situation. All you could do was to make the most of it and continue living, because no matter what, they were always going to find and keep you. Might as well make it easier on yourself and wave the white flag. But what scared you the most out of all of this, was that knowing full well that they were responsible for what happened to Jeff, you sometimes wondered….did they have any part in the murders of these women?...They were capable of murder…you’ve caught them breaching it but successfully stopped them, all through luck. But, how were they before you met them? What did they do before your mother married Danny? Seeing how much they detested their own girlfriends, you wondered if Sa-Ra and Yeon-jin were both potential victims ... .but again…you can’t think about that or confirm, because once you knew, you wouldn’t be able to live.

Your eyes began to glisten and sting; you were on the brink of tears just by questioning it, when suddenly a pair of strong arms wrap’s your waist from behind. A pair of lips cements itself on your cheek, planting a dramatic kiss.

“Mmmmmmmmmuah! Sleep well baby? I know we got home kind of late from dinner last night.”

“Oh no….it’s fine, I slept in a little bit this morning.”

“That’s good.” Patting your rear, Heejeong remains pressed against your backside, reaching over to grab the sugar spoon and preparing his own cup of instant coffee. You aid him by pouring the hot water, and stirring it, all the while presenting him with a sweet smile. God that smile…he could stare at it for hours.

“You making my coffee minx? Are you the sweetest…I love you.”

“I love you too….”

‘Don't do it y/n…..’

“Heejeong?”

“Yeeeeesss.” winking, he nuzzles his face into your ear.

“Could I….ask you a question?”

“Of course baby.”

‘Y/n….don’t do this to yourself….stop…stop it right now.’

“About Sa-Ra and Yeon-jin…..especially since during the ride home last night…”

“Did they do or say something to you? I swear if they did anything to you, I’ll rip their faces off and shred them.”

“No…no they didn’t do anything.”

Heejeong relaxes his expression, feeling relieved that the two girls hadn’t said or done anything to you behind his, or Heeseung’s back. He wasn’t wrong, Sa-Ra and Yeon-Jin had both developed a terrible reputation since their high school years, being notoriously cruel in their bullying methods towards other females. In spite of them calming down and dropping their torturous behaviors, all for the sake of putting on a front to gain the attention of the kind and gentle twins, no one could deny the fact that the two girls still had it within them to bring out their true personalities. Once the brothers had found out, right before meeting you, they’ve been long planning on ditching their horrible girlfriends, the only problem that caused the delay, was their father’s great fondness for them, which very much could affect the prosperous future for the twins, which now mattered since they had someone they truly cared for, and wanted to protect and provide for forever, you.

“So what’s up? What did you want to talk about? Little minx.” grabbing hold of your waist he pulls you in until your forehead meets his lips. Resting your hands on his forearms, you delicately trace your fingertips along the veins of his muscles as you speak. “The girls…you and Heeseung only dated them because you did fall for them at one point in time, right?”

Breaking his lips free from your skin, he slightly backs his head away and tilts it with a smirk planted on his lips. “Do you think we love them? Is that what this is about? Come on baby, you know we hate their guts. We just have to time it correctly. Knowing those two, they’ll run up to our dad and beg him to get involved.”

“No-no, that’s not it. I just….I guess what I’m saying is….” your heart skipped a beat. What were you thinking? Bringing this up without any proof that the boys were the culprits behind the murders of the local women, yet here you were, about to question whether they had intentions in hurting Sa-Ra and Yeon-Jin.

“What is it, beautiful? Come on, you can ask anything you like, we’ll always tell you the truth. We’re passed all the lying and deception, now that we have you and trained you to behave.”

The words came out effortlessly smooth and cunning. Since you’ve embraced their love for you, they have been open to admit their deceit and hidden intentions upon first meeting you. You guess it made sense, after all, what was the point of hiding the truth now that they gained your love?

“I just…I know you both don’t like them…and I don’t mind the wait until you break it off, I just wanted to express that it goes smoothly and that no-one gets hurt, that’s all.” gulping, you shifted your gaze and avoided eye contact. Fortunately, Heejeong didn’t catch on to your suspicion relating him and Heeseung to the murdered women, and shrugged off your concern. “Of course baby, it will go smoothly and trust me, you won’t have anything to worry about. Okay? Nothing is going to happen to you, we won’t allow it.”

He had obviously missed the point, it wasn’t you that you were at all concerned about, you knew that the boys would put their own life on the line for you, it was the other two that you were worried about. Despite their rotten attitudes, you couldn’t stand by and watch anyone get murdered over nothing. Just because the girls were terrible, didn’t mean you had to be.

A knock was heard at the door, breaking Heejeong’s grip. “Someone’s at the door?” he calmly states as he pats your waist and walks over towards the foyer. Heeseung meets up with his brother, both responding to the unexpected guest. “Baby, go upstairs and wait until we tell you to come back down.” Heeseung gently speaks out, reaching his hand out for you to grab as he directs you towards the staircase. You nodded and walked half way up, nothing out of the ordinary since the protective nature of your step-brothers included for them to hide you away until the coast was clear, especially when it came to an undetected guest. Heeseung stationed himself at the base of the staircase, letting Heejeong open the door, and that’s when you heard Heejeong’s gritted tone merge out. “Well-well…look who it is…”

Turning around, you become stunned to find Kurt at the door. “Look Heeseung, it’s our little friend, the ex-boyfriend.”

Heeseung remained silent, blocking the base at the stairway, developing a stern look as he glared over to Kurt.

“I’ve come to speak to Y/N, is she here?”

Heejeong leans against the door, crossing his arms and nods. “Mmhmm.”

“Where is she?”

“Watch your tone.” Heeseung spits out, never minding that you remained halfway up the stairs, facing the doorway. “He-Heeseung…” Turning his face, he reveals his side profile, revealing the sharp stare of his eye as he gently shushes you. “Go into your room Y/N, we’ll tell you when to come back down.”

“Y/N? Are you there?” responding to the faint sound of your voice, Kurt shouts out into the open foyer as he shifts his gaze past Heejeong’s intimidating stance. “Please…I have been trying to reach you for months, yet you blocked my number and I had to figure out how to reach through to you. I deserve an explanation, you just ghosted me without any reason.”

“Come to think of it…” Heejeong extends an arm and blocks the doorway as he rests his palm on the panel, “How did you remember where we live? If memory serves me correctly, you only dropped Y/N off one time, and that was six months ago. Our address isn’t necessarily easy to remember, unless….” Straightening his posture, Heejeong takes a step over to Kurt, towering over him as he emits a fearsome glare. “You have been secretly driving by.”

“No, I haven’t been over since then!” Kurt issues as he takes a step back. “I got a hold of your guys parents and your dad gave me the address, since y/n directed me the last time. I never had your address saved or used the GPS.” clearing his throat, Kurt remained peaceful with his request. “Listen, I didn’t come to stir up trouble, I just wanted an explanation. If I had done something wrong, I should at least-”

“You’re doing it right now. You should have never come over.” Heeseung issues as he joins his brother’s side and squares up to Kurt, both brothers surrounding the poor man. You hastily make your way down and reach Heejeong’s back, receiving a punishing glare for not obeying Heeseung’s order to go into your room.

“Please, just let me speak to him for a moment. You don’t have to leave, just stay here by my side and let me break things off properly with him.”

You did feel bad, considering your last conversation with Kurt was when Heeseung was on his way to Kurt’s home of record. Had you not aggressively told Kurt off, his life would have met the same fate that Jeff did, and you couldn’t allow that to happen, not then or now, even if you loved your step-brothers beyond what is considered family normality. Pulling Heeseung’s forearm, while rubbing Heejeong’s chest, you calm them as best as you could, and appeal to their loving nature for you, even though their harsh, wide-eyed stare reflected a punishment coming your way after this was over with. Whispering, you assured your brothers without letting Kurt overhear your wording. “Please…I’ll accept any punishment, and I will apologize after this is done. Just let me break things off and make sure he never comes back, I promise. It’s not his fault, It’s mine.”

Watching their murderous glare toning down, Heejeong, the ever so rational and calm of the two, looks over to his brother and pats him on the back. “We’ll stand here and watch, let her do her thing, and give y’n her punishment later. There isn’t any need to shed blood over something that isn’t necessary.” Heeseung issues a side eye as he crosses his arms. “Whatever.” shifting his gaze back to you, he takes a step as he harshly warns you, all the while issuing a sadistically violent glare. “You tell him whatever you need to. But if he ever comes back or talks to you again, I’ll kill him. Understand?” Your eyes become glaze from fear; you do your best to remain composed as you nod, taking in Heeseung’s warning as Heejeong looks at you with an expectant raise of his brow, notably agreeing with his brother’s ultimatum.

Walking in between the two, you remained close by as they stood, observing the conversation.

“We can’t talk in private?” Kurt asks.

“No, we cant!” you snap. Taking a pause, you breathed out and calmed your tone. “Listen, Kurt. I’m sorry for the way I had broken things off. Really, I am. But I have so many other things and I just can’t….I can’t be bothered with relationships or anyone else. I am sorry, really I am, but we had just one date and that was it.”

“Y/N….what is going on? I just don’t understand, if you’re in trouble, tell me and I can help.”

“I’m not! I’m not in trouble, I just…I want to be left alone.”

Looking past you, Kurt notes the invasive stance of the boys, and looks back at you. “Y/N…are you okay?...Are they hurting you?” he whispers, though the Hee-twins scoff, indicating they heard Kurt’s concerned voice.

“I’m fine. My brother’s take care of me, I just…” Looking back up to Kurt, you shook your head gently. “I’m sorry…I fell in love with someone else and I didn’t know how to tell you. I wish you could understand, but…I just don’t want to be bothered by anyone else.”

“You fell in love? What the?....Are you fucking kidding me? Is that why you couldn’t spare the time on our last phone conversation? You just called me up and told me you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and then blocked my number! What the Hell is wrong with you?!” Kurt’s voice expressed anger, betrayal, and sadness.

Tearfully, you return a gaze of sympathy as you hiccup your words, trying your best to not cry. “I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?? That’s all you have to say? Y/N! I had been trying to get a hold of you for months! You could have just told me you found someone else, instead of wasting my time!”

Little did he know, had you been in love from the time you broke things off, you would have. Except that your new found love for the twins had only been recent, the last few months in fact. Truthfully, despite Kurt never knowing, you initially had broken things off all to save him.

“Hey!” Heeseung’s voice shouts from behind, with Heejeong walking over by your side. “You lost your damn mind…don’t ever raise your voice at her, or speak to her like that ever again. In fact, don’t even look at her, from here on out, you just pretend she doesn’t exist. Trust me, you’re going to want to do what I say.”

Kurt looks at Heejeong defiantly, taking his stern, yet calm words for granted. “Who are you to tell me? You have no part in this! This is between me and her, I don’t know why you both are so intrusive!”

You heard Heeseung’s footsteps breaching behind, when suddenly a harsh grip wraps around your waist and pulls you in. Turning your body to face him simultaneously, Heeseung leans in, and kisses you. You were shocked, but knew better than to fight him off, and so, you allowed him to proceed while returning it. Heejeong smirks as he cradles you from behind, ultimately trapping you in between his and Heeseung’s towering heights. Tapping his fingers on your hips, he buries his face into the back of your head as Heeseung continues to shove his tongue down your throat; inhaling the scent of your hair, Heejeong side-eyes a smirky look over to Kurt, who stood completely stunned. “Don’t mind us…we’re just showing love to our baby sister.”

Coating your lips with the flat surface of his tongue, Heeseung finishes his oral performance and cups your chin. Kissing the tip of your nose, he turns you around. “Give Heejeong a kiss.”

Taking hold of your throat, Heejeong pulls you in and begins to show you the same passion as Heeseung, but flickering his tongue inside and out of your mouth. Heeseung rubs the outer sides of your thighs, and slowly lifts the hem of the oversized t-shirt you still adorned from when you awoke. Exposing your panties, Heeseng pulls your hips back as Heejeong steadies your chest to remain in touch with his, essentially causing you to develop a leaned stance as Heeseung prepares to release some steam. Kissing the back of your neck, he takes a pause and glares over to Kurt. “Leave, unless you wanna watch her get fucked. Trust me, we don’t go easy on her, and if you still have feelings for y/n, you’re not going to want to see just what we do.”

Kurt’s shocked expression transitions into disgust as he covers his mouth. “Oh my God…you all are sick….fucking sick! You all are step-siblings! Y/n…” looking over to you with a questionable look, he watches as you open an eye and peek from the side as Heejeong continues to lock your lips, never releasing. Groaning into your mouth, Heejeong pulls back, just enough to where his lips faintly remains pressed against yours. “Run your fingers through my hair baby.”

Reigniting the kiss, Heejeong sucks in your tongue as you obey his demand and reach up, running your fingers through his silver strands. “Good girl.” he murmurs as he rubs his tongue on the roof of your mouth. Heeseung slides your panties off to the side, and grinds his groin against your derriere. “Baby wants to get fucked in front of ex-boyfriend?”

Again, you knew better than to retaliate. Before, you avoided displeasing the two out of fear of being locked up and isolated for days on end; if it wasn’t that, it was being subdued and forced on, receiving the roughest type of sexual fulfillment, one that you ended up loving. But now, you merely obey due to wanting more of their touch and physical nature, getting moist as their hands roam and caress every body part.

Nodding, Heeseung smirks against the skin on the backside of your neck. “Yeeeeeah you do…” Fishing out his cock, he taps it along in between your folds.

“What are you doing? Stop that! This is so sick! You all are sick people!” Kurt extends out, practically pleading as he gets his phone and prepares to call out, more than likely to tell your mother and Danny.

“I promise you…Kurt.” Heeseung begins as he reaches his arm around, and harshly wraps it around your throat. Heejeong grabs onto your arms, and pins them to your sides as he dips his tongue inside your mouth once more, before looking over in Kurt’s way, and finishes Heeseung’s warning. “You can reach out and talk to anyone you’d like, and tell them what's going on. But I think you already know that we have power and money, the two things you lack, and we are the type of people you don’t fuck around with. Unless you have a death wish, in that case, we’ll be more than happy to carry-out. I suggest you dip out and forget this whole thing.”

With a sadistic glare, Heejeong grins widely and chuckles, instilling a level of fear inside Kurt. Trembling, he loses grip of his phone out of gruesome panic; he had never seen something so frightening in his life. Hastily, he picks up his phone and quickly makes his way back inside his car, choosing to no longer stare death in the face. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something eerie about the twin’s glare initiated for him to run and never look back, no longer desiring to be involved, even if it meant doing the morally right thing and calling to notify your parents of what he had seen. No, he couldn’t do that, not with both brothers psychotically smiling his way through the windshield, both bearing teeth as they grinned while they prepared to violate your body.

No…if it meant to save his own life from the unspeakable torture that those two had meant to do, he had to leave and never look back. Starting up the ignition, the tires of his car screeches as he backs up, and pulls out of the half circle driveway, taking off and never returning.

“Well, I’m up.” Heeseung jests as he looks over to his brother. “You and I both.” Heejeong responds back while cupping your face. “Let’s go take this inside, hmm?...” Tilting your chin, he forces you to look into his sadistic gaze, one that was eerie, yet attractive. “Little minx.”

They both pull you in, walking you back inside as they locked the door, armed the security system, and took you in the foyer. It wasn’t just the entryway that the two had their way with you in, there was the living room, the kitchen, the middle of the staircase, and each bedroom upstairs, to include the sitting room. It was all a part of their punishment, though you initially didn’t feel it was as such, since the twins issued you raging orgasms one after the other, to the point where the entire house was filled with echoes of your screams. By the ninth round, you felt the effects of overstimulation hit, causing you to snap and trying to break free as each brother took his turn, allowing for one to rest while the other rigorously fucks you. Hysterically screaming and desperately trying to fight them off, you watched as they both grinned down at you, eluding frightening stares as their sexual behaviors took a psychotic turn.

“Don’t worry baby, just a little bit more and punishment will be all done. This is what you asked for, riiiiiiight?....Y/n?.....Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy/nnnnnnnnnn.”

Authors note: Oh snap! We're reaching the height of the plot and the ending, i'd say in a few more chapters. We need to explore what is going on with the murders of these poor women. if you wish to be a part of the perm taglist, please comment below. 😊 if you enjoy the content, please consider donating to my ko-fi account, it helps me stay motivated to write series and requests and is my only source of income atm. Thank you! ❤️

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

Perm Taglist: @hoyeonheeseung , @yohanabanana

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aechii · 1 year

Text

₍⁠₍ ONE OF US (2) ₎⁠₎

{read part 1 here}

PAiRiNG ?! kylian x black!femreader

GENRE ?! romance, fluff (😞)

SYNOPSiS ?! it's kylian's wedding day, and he knows it never gets better than this

C/W ?! she/her pronouns used, just fluff and romance and a tad bit of swearing cos it's me writing?!?!?!?

A/N ?! the all anticipated sequel to one of us!! man, i've hit a writer's block and idk what's going on with my writing but i'm trying to get rid of it so that's that. i would like to dedicate this to @blubffsd (who has unfortunately left tumblr, but i will always hold them dear to my heart). they've asked for this many a time, and it sucks that i released it after they departed from this hellsite. wherever you are blub, i hope you're happy!

enjoy all my wonderful consumers readers :)

“are you ready?”

the voice comes from behind kylian, but his attention remains on the mirror before him. [y/n] had chosen the suit for him, said that the colour suited him, and as he scrutinises himself, he can’t help but wonder what she looks like in her dress. it elevates his heartbeat and he has to huff out a heavy sigh to wash away the light-headedness.

“kylian?”

background noise seeps into his ears once again, and the loud seems to come with more clarity, and concern. his head turns, seeing his brother in the same style suit as him, but rather in a dark shade of blue.

“you good?”

he faces the mirror, scans himself as his body begins to feel hot and the tie around his neck seems to tighten its hold. kylian slowly shakes his head, exhaling, “i’m so fucking nervous.”

ethan chuckles, landing a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he moves to stand beside him. kylian watches him and is succumbed by a thick wave of wistfulness; his brother succeeds his height, shoulders barely touching and his mind can’t fathom how time has flown past them.

he still can’t believe he’s getting married today.

“wedding nerves– it’s normal, bro,” ethan tells him, and kylian snickers in retort.

“since when did you know so much about weddings?”

“well,” ethan slides his hands into his pockets, rocking on his feet, “when you have two siblings who are married- or getting married- you learn a lot of things.”

kylian nods understandingly, and trickles out a sigh for the umpteenth time.

“you’ll be fine, kylian,” ethan comforts, “[y/n] loves you more than i’ve ever seen anyone love someone- truth be told, you’re lucky.”

kylian can’t deny that. [y/n]’s presence in his life has changed him in a way that’s gratifying, and without her, it’s hard to visualise how he would cope. a love story that they would call, truthfully, unintentional, but undeniably destined.

“i am, aren’t i?”

ethan doesn’t hesitate to nod profusely, “yeah, you are.”

their father calls them from the door as he enters. his forehead is sheened with sweat and sounds of bustling chatter from the living room bleeds inside then muffles again as he shuts himself in.

wilfried smiles, finds it hard to withstand the unrelenting tears as he sees his son clad in the crisp, black suit. it wasn’t long ago, in his mind, that kylian played his first ever football match, reaching no more than his knees. and as much as his status quo gets now, he’s about to marry the girl who he could never have approved more of.

“you look- wow,” kylian’s father softly grips his son’s arms before smoothing out an odd crease drawn into his coat.

“you’ll make me cry, papa, stop,” kylian humours out and wilfried joins him in laughter.

“it’s just- i can’t believe you’re getting married already.”

“me too,” kylian adjusts his tie, but his father slaps his hand away. “i just cleaned up your shirt, don’t ruin it again.”

his son smiles, albeit wobbly, “sorry, papa.”

wilfried stretches out his arm, twisting it to check the watch circling his wrist.

“it’s nearly time. just about 10 minutes ‘til we have to leave.”

kylian feels a soft tremble oscillate through his skin and he fans himself as if it does anything. his father watches him as he does so, grinning.

“you remind me of how i was,” wilfried recounts, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “almost had a panic attack before we left.”

kylian looks at him, mildly intrigued, “really?”

“the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, kylian,” ethan jokes as he claps his brother on the shoulder, and it makes kylian shake his head, smiling.

“it’s normal, ethan,” their father corrects, “it’ll be you soon.”

kylian turns to ethan, whose eyes trace elsewhere as he begins to blush. he chuckles at the sight, poking his brother’s cheek.

“don’t be shy now,” kylian says as he smirks and ethan fights back his own grin, nudging his brother’s touch away.

wilfried watches on and his heart feels heavy in his chest. just one son left. he can’t believe it.

he retains himself from getting overly emotional, ascending from his seat, “we should get going now. your mum will be angry if we don’t get there on time, you know her.”

kylian and ethan emit sounds of agreement, walking to the door. ethan exits first, and kylian stays behind trying to gather as much composure as he can.

“i’m proud of you, kylian,” his father voices, and it bleeds so much joy and pride that kylian begins to feel choked up.

“thank you, papa,” kylian shakily expresses. he attempts to shake off the nerves, yet it proves to be fruitless, again.

“god- i feel like i’m about to pass out.”

“it’s all normal, kylian. you’ll be fine, i can assure you.”

“i know, but,” he pauses, shutting his eyes for a few seconds, “i don’t think i’ll survive seeing [y/n] in her dress.”

wilfried grins so widely, he feels his cheek muscles ache. like father, like son.

“believe me, i know.”

+_-

he’s absolutely trembling. it’s so palpable that one of his groomsmen, brice, has checked on him at least twice now. he had responded with the usual, automated affirmative that he’s fine, but he truly is anything but. it’s been more than 5 minutes since the service was supposed to start, but the bride, his bride, was yet to arrive.

he glances at his father who looks back at him, and his face doesn’t release his smile. it’s subtle reassurance, and he musters a small smile back just as the hall doors begin to glide open with an old rumble.

and kylian swears his heart stops. he can’t hear the congregation stand and turn as she proceeds down the aisle. he can’t feel his mind frenzy, even though he knows it does, nor can he feel his hands that will, soon, bear the weight of the unifying ring. his eyes are stuck, stitched to the sight of his to-be wife completely encompassed in an ethereal cloud of white, and for a second, he thinks he’s being visited by an angel from heaven.

before he knows it, he’s crying. tears of abundant happiness overflow as much as he tries to blink them away but he allows them to because he finds it almost prohibited to look away. ethan stands beside him, handing him a handkerchief, and he’s ever so grateful for his grounding presence right there and then.

“she’s beautiful. so, so beautiful,” he mutters in tangent. his heart quickens the nearer she gets and he senses ethan bringing a hand to his back.

then she stands right in front of him. and he stares. stares for what seems like centuries that pass until his brother whispers in his ear, “remove her veil, kylian. i have to go.”

it spurs his movement, shaking him from his reverie, and both hands, vibrating, pinch the sides of the lace, lifting and placing it behind her hair.

he feels like he’s punched. again.

she smiles so gorgeously at him, and it’s like he’s fallen in love all over again.

“hi.”

he breathes out slowly, gently interlocking their hands.

“hey.”

the priest begins his welcome and the usual protocol. when he asks the crowd if there were to be any objections, he holds his breath. he’s not aware of anyone being against them, but he knows that it happens more than one could think. silences engulfs the room and the priest, to his relief, breaks it as he proceeds with the service.

his mind and ears block out everything after that and his gaze never leaves [y/n]’s otherworldly stature. every now and then, he squeezes her hands, just to make sure she’s really here, and she always returns the gesture, as if she reads his mind.

he’s dazed when a hand comes up to touch his cheek, and his conscience zooms back into the present.

“you with me, love?”

he nods absentmindedly and the congregation collectively chuckle at him.

“i think you’ll have to say it again,” [y/n] jokingly tells the priest, and kylian, eyes wide, turns to him.

“i missed the vows?”

“it’s okay, kylian,” he smiles gently, “i’ll read them out again.”

kylian nods, this time, unmasking his ears to hear the words that he knows he’ll agree to wholeheartedly.

“kylian mbappe, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

his response is instantaneous, “i do.”

the priest tilts himself towards [y/n], “[y/n] [l/n] do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

“i do.”

kylian feels the tears gather as the priest utters the words he’s been waiting for, for the past 10 months.

“i now pronounce you mr and mrs mbappe. kylian, you may kiss the bride.”

as their families cheer, holler and cry tears of utmost joy, his lips find his wife’s, both barely able to contain their grins.

and at the back of kylian’s mind, he envisions a picture of this very moment, framed in gold and mounted upon the wall of his mother’s house.

just like [y/n] had wanted.

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wardenparker · 11 months

Text

The Viper’s Bride - ch 5

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit Word Count: 15.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* A whole lot of nudity, reflections on poor sex education, internalized shame, Mom-frontation, absurd amounts of tension, we’re not even sorry, dialing up the yearning, anxiety, mentions of parental abuse, a whole heaping dose of inadequate communication. Summary: The day of King Joffrey and Lady Margaery’s wedding holds surprises for everyone. Notes: Y’all the WAY this chapter makes me cry. There is so much going on and the day is so intense to begin with. Keri really and truly out does herself with every step forward this quartet takes.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

The sun rise does not wake you, nor the sound of servants moving in and out of the room. The warmth and security of having Raeden's arm heavy on your waist has kept you deep in a blissful sleep more revitalizing than you have had in a very long time. Food has been laid and your trunks delivered from the Red Keep while you slept with your soulmate like a rock at your back, and it is not until the scent of freshly lit incense breaks through your dreams that you even have a sense of the world outside of your beautiful dreams.

The warm sun pours through the curtains that Leyth opens, and she hums to herself softly as she moves around the room. Prince Oberyn had given her specific instructions on waking the new princess and her lover gently and hanging the dress he had produced from his trunk, even making sure that the bath room would be emptied for you to have privacy. Though why you need privacy in a whorehouse makes no sense to her. It seems rather...precious. But she does not know your story.

The moment you stir, Raeden opens his eyes. He has spent the last hour awake, holding you close as you continued to dream. As a soldier, he is often up before the sun, training. This morning he had woken due to habit. For a split second believing that yesterday had been a dream until you had sighed softly and the weight of your body pressed against him registered. There were still noises from the chambers where the prince and his soulmate slept, this time it was softer, more intimate. Making him wonder at the paradoxical nature of the prince and if he had not been toying with you when he had said he was interested in a lowly soldier like him. A man who is reliant on his good graces for taking breath today. And why Ellaria’s eyes haunted him enough to dream of her last night.

Leyth catches the movement, smiling at the broad man in the bed and whispering when she sees you haven’t opened your eyes yet. “Meal is laid and so is her dress. When you are ready, Prince Oberyn has ordered the bathing room be emptied so she can have privacy.” That is all she came here to say, so she smiles once more at the handsome man and leaves, shutting the door gently behind her.

He’s grateful that the prince seems to accept your modesty, even if he might not share those same proclivities. His hand slides from his hold on you and he strokes your side softly. “Morning has come.” He murmurs softly, kissing your shoulder. “It is near a dream to wake up with you in my arms.”

“I thought I was dreaming still.” Rough with sleep, your voice is still soft as you open your eyes and turn to burrow into his side. The mix of dreams you had are still fresh in your mind’s eye, sleep barely receding enough to allow you to be present in this moment. “Did you sleep well, my love?”

“Better than ever.” He promises, smiling at your sleepy face. If he had stayed up late thinking on the sounds that had come from next door, it was nothing you needed to concern yourself with.

“Morning light becomes you.” Reaching up to kiss him in the sunlight that streams in through the windows, your fingers dance through the traces of stubble on his jaw and even the top of his head and you giggle to yourself. “Did I hear something about a bath?” He is meticulous about his appearance, and you know that on a day as important as the king’s wedding, you will both want to look your best.

“Your husband has arranged a private bath for you.” Raeden nods and leans in to steal a kiss. He wishes he could give you those things, give you everything you need, but he holds no power.

The sentence stings for a very different reason than it had yesterday, after spending a night dreaming about both men alternately. The guilt you carry for finding yourself attracted to the man you have already married is difficult to reconcile, and you wonder how angry Raeden would feel if he knew. Or worse, betrayed. “That…is kind of him.” You murmur finally, tucking in closer to Raeden’s side.

“It is.” Readen won’t deny that, and his eyes widen when he sees the gown that had been brought in for you. “Like the dress is…shockingly brief.”

“What do you…” Sitting up in bed, you find yourself face to face with a beautiful golden gown embroidered with elaborate flowers across the bodice and vines that extend down the skirt. The light material is silky and inviting, but the brief part of it is the sleeves that look as though they will simply dangle off your shoulders, and the deep dip in the front that would surely do everything in its power to highlight your breasts for any who might look. “It’s…exceptionally beautiful,” you admit, finding it to be stunning but a little shocking. You would never see the ladies of the Vale wearing anything so revealing. “It must be the fashion…in Dorne.”

“It is a most temperate climate from what I know of it.” He murmurs, wondering how jealous he will be with eyes on your skin. “Perhaps comfort is afforded over modesty?”

"Perhaps it will be more modest on the body than it seems to the eye." It is more intimidating than you would like to admit, to come to these changes all at once, but it is what you chose. A new gown is hardly a terrible price to pay for Raeden's safety. "Either way, it is what I will wear to the king's wedding. Dornish colors and Dornish fashion."

“You will be fit to cling to the Prince’s arm.” His own robes will be splendid as well, he will make sure to take great pains to shine his boots and his sword. “It will be a grand introduction to the new princess.”

"It will be a great shock to some." You can think of a half dozen names off the top of your head. "I only hope that Lady Margaery does not view it as an attempt to steal sunshine from her day. The last thing I wish is to offend a queen."

“I doubt she will view it as such a thing.” He assures you, turning and kissing your shoulder. “It is not like the prince announced your wedding and invited the kingdom.”

“Nor would I have wanted him to.” Turning your head, you plant two soft kisses on Raeden’s lips and smile. The moans and calls to gods and the prince himself are nearly at a crescendo – a sound with which you are now well acquainted. And that, you tell yourself, is the only reason you must have dreamt of him last night. “Let us break our fast and bathe, my love. Today is sure to be long and tiresome.”

Breakfast was far more elaborate than even you were used to. The brothel apparently sparing no expense to make sure that the prince was kept happy. Dates and fruits surround fresh bread and some eggs that were still steaming in their shells. All washed down with a mulled wine that was very pleasing to the palette. It was a meal unlike anything he had experienced before beyond last night.

The bathing room is at the other end of the not inconsiderably sized building, according to the man who escorted your trunks into your chamber last night. He was personable and handsome, like almost everyone else who seemed to do very well working in Baelish’s brothel. The arrival of your trunks with most of your belongings intact meant that you can wrap up in your dressing robe to walk to your bath this morning, a luxury you had not expected. In fact, most moments spent here seemed to be luxurious ones with the exception of the luxury of quiet.

Stepping into the room, Raeden is impressed with the size of the room. The tub is sunk into the middle of the floor, water already pouring into the large cavity from a pipe that comes from the kitchen – he can only assume – as steam swirls up. That is a luxury in itself, not using someone else’s water in a bath this size. The smell of incense and spices fills the air and makes him hum in approval.

“I admit, I had no idea a brothel would be a beautiful place.” Only ever having heard of them as places a lady should never go, you had assumed they would be as dank and unappealing as the men they attracted. As much as you dislike Lord Baelish, his establishment seems to be far above what you had imagined for this house of ill repute.

“I feel as if Baelish like to accommodate the lords that come to King’s Landing.” Raeden pulls off his undershirt and smirks when he sees the shaving tools set off to the side.

“So much the better for us, then.” Your robe joins his clothing on the tiled floor beside the bath and you slip into the steaming water, sighing at the way it relaxes you instantly. There are few things better in the world than a hot bath.

“It is good?” The washing cloths are to the side and Raeden lets you enjoy the warm water as he gathers the perfumed soaps and the cloths.

"It would be better with company." Waking with him has somehow only made you greedy for more time with him, and you admit that you are trying to wipe other thoughts from your mind. Seeing the gown that was left for you this morning now makes you wonder what the prince will be wearing to today's nuptials.

“Company you shall have.” The doors to the bathing room open and Oberyn and Ellaria stroll in, half naked and without a single care. The prince grins at you. “How was your wedding night, my dear?”

“My lord!” The shock of seeing them walk in so brazen and unashamedly has you attempting – and failing – to cover yourself with only your hands and the shrinking away of your body into the far corner of the bath as if the prince might have developed poor eyesight overnight. “You are—I—that is—what an unexpected visit.”

Oberyn tilts his head in confusion at your exclamation. “I had arranged for a private bath for us before the wedding.” He reminds you. “There is nothing that I have not seen before on either of you.” He hums, reaching over and helping Ellaria out of the thin, gossamer gown that concealed nothing.

“Forgive me. It must have…slipped my mind.” It is rude to stare, you know that it is, and yet the pair of them are so beautiful that it is difficult to tear your eyes away. And that certainly is not helping you remember whatever he might have said to you the night before about bathing together.

“Don’t tease, lover.” Ellaria pouts and turns to press her breasts against his chest. “She is not yet used to the way that you view nudity.” She turns towards you and Raeden with a sultry smile.

Caught in your own mix of utter confusion, the impulse to flee is incredibly strong and has you turning away from them to hide your face and body all at once. Even from Raeden. A naked body is a thing of shame, or so you were taught. Always to be covered and hidden away. Even sharing it with a lover or husband is a brazen act of licentiousness. It is unladylike. “Forgive me,” you manage to eek out again, not knowing what to do in this situation at all.

“Do not fret.” Oberyn has no shame as he drops his breeches, revealing every inch of his bare cock as it swings between his thighs. Flaccid, yet still impressive, he turns towards his new guard who is still in his own breeches. “Soon we will be comfortable with one another.”

“Is this…the accepted way…in Dorne?” If it is then you will have to make very large adjustments very quickly, and a knot of dread forms in the pit of your stomach.

“You will not be walking around Dorne for all to see.” He steps into the bath and turns around so he can help his lover into it, holding out his hand. “None but the servants and the people in this room will see you unless you take other lovers.” That might sting; if you were to reject being in his bed and take other men and women into yours.

“I cannot see that being a possibility.” Although Raeden is at your side, holding firmly onto your hand to be an anchor of comfort, the moment is nerve wracking only for you. The prince and Ellaria clearly are more interested than concerned, and Raeden’s years as a soldier have made him far less concerned with nudity in general. He may not examine the pair of lovers who have no intention of leaving, but he certainly is not offended by them. You squeeze his hand gently, hating to be the naive, sheltered child out of the four of you. At five-and-twenty, you have not been a child for many years.

“Do you not believe that love should be shared?” Oberyn asks curiously. “Pleasure is one of life’s greatest gifts, beyond children. Especially if the pleasure is creating them.” He chuckles, kissing his lover’s shoulder and glance at you from it. “Why limit yourself?”

“Your Grace, I was raised by a woman who deemed me a shameful harlot for sharing myself with the man that the gods themselves chose for me. And my father is a man who I do not believe ever touched her more than out of necessity or for her own manipulative ends.” Still clutching your own self, you swallow the moment of fear and turn halfway around in the bath. Enough to be able to see his face, at least. “Pleasure was not precisely a topic of conversation in my household. Even my brothers’ wives considered it unladylike to discuss.”

“Then allow yourself to ask any questions you may have.” He hums, picking up one of the cloths and dipping it into the water so he can slide it over Ellaria’s tits.

“It is not so much that I have questions.” Although you do. Desperately burning ones that you have felt too ashamed even to ask of Raeden. “But more that I wonder at how easily you can share yourself.” Realizing that that might not have sounded how you intend, you end up fostering immediately. “I—I mean it as an admiration,” you clarify, stumbling to explain. “You are very comfortable and free with yourselves. Both of you.”

Oberyn looks at you thoughtfully, sliding his hands up to cup Ellaria’s tits. “It does not take away from my appreciation of these tits to admire yours. Or her love of my cock when she is perched on another.” He explains. “We have our pleasures, separate at times, but most often together. And we find that it makes our own passions for each other that much sweeter.”

“Perhaps I am not enough of the world to understand.” An anxious glance to Raeden beside you does nothing to calm the riot in your mind, and you shake your head, ready to give up on it altogether. Attraction and love seem inexorably linked to you. Or they did, before you met the prince and his paramour.

“You will not be forced to join in on anything you do not wish to.” He squeezes his lover’s tits once more before he looks to Raeden. “Although I am curious as to your views on sex. Is your soulmate your only lover or have you had more?”

“There is not the judgement for bastards that there is for ladies, your Grace.” Though Raeden might not usually hide himself from the view of others, it is a different matter entirely when the others present are enticing to him, and try as he might there is no informing his cock that this is an inappropriate time to stand at attention. “There were others before her, but none since.”

“Good.” Oberyn approves of the idea that you had at least a moderately skilled lover. It is good that you might not be dealing with a man who does not satisfy you. “And do you make sure your soulmate is satisfied?”

“You would have to ask her for the most accurate answer.” It may be the most unconventional line of questioning he’s ever had from a noble, but somehow the part of him that is affronted that the prince would even ask is almost also glad of it? He gets the impression that if he were not satisfying you, Prince Oberyn would be disapproving. “But I believe I can rightfully boast that I am never satisfied until she is.”

“Very good.” Oberyn hums, nodding in agreement of his answer. “That is always the best when your lover is limp with pleasure and unable to cry out your name anymore.” He keeps his hands moving over Ellaria’s skin as he converses.

“With all respect to your meaning…crying out is not a luxury all of us have had.” Certainly before last night, you never had been safe enough with Raeden to do any such thing. He would have been punished severely for even touching you, and even in the beauty of spending last night with him, you never would have been as vocal as the men and women in the next room. You would not have known how. “That is…i—it is not the only way to show pleasure.”

“Even the softest moan of a name is a cry when a cock is filling you or a tongue fluttering against your clit.” Oberyn counters with a small smirk. “Your small whimpers are just as erotic, maybe more so, than the most skilled whore faking pleasure.”

“Your paramour agrees,” Ellaria smiles in her amused way, the one where mischief dances behind her eyes. “Or else he is very much enjoying something that he sees.”

“Yes, he does seem to be stimulated by the atmosphere.” Oberyn is also interested in the exceptional collection of bodies that are in the bathing room. His own reaction hidden by Ellaria’s body as he caresses and washes it. “I must wonder on what is causing it.”

Raeden’s complexion grays, embarrassed to have a condition he cannot control pointed out for all to witness. “It is only natural,” he insists, though the defense is quiet and he turns his back to the pair to retrieve the largest washing cloth he can find – as if that would be any help in hiding his condition.

“It is, there is no shame in it.” Oberyn insists as he sidesteps his paramour to reveal his own erection. “In fact, if you need to take care of it, we do not care if you fuck in the bath.”

The speed at which you avert your eyes is telling, but what it is that you’ve just revealed about yourself, you do not know. Instead it is Raeden who flusters and busies himself with becoming a human shield for you so that you can wash yourself. “She is innocent of such things.” He tells the prince with an edge of soft protection in his voice. As though your innocence is something very precious to him. “Such a thing would never have even crossed her mind.”

The hand that comes up to lay against his chest is soft, the only thing keeping him from sighing in disappointment. He had hoped that after the night, there would have been some thought on your part to the doors opened to you. “As you say.” He turns around so that you don’t have to see him and starts to wash himself.

"I—" Even hidden from view, your voice is just loud enough to be heard. Unsure, faltering more than slightly, you look up at Raeden and around his shoulder to find Ellaria still carefully watching. "It might..." Swallowing the fear that it might upset your soulmate, you have to admit that there are few things that you like more than being spoken for. Your mother would do it constantly – speak on your behalf – and to be out from under her thumb now should have meant you were free from it in private. "If it had not ever occurred to me before – to make love in full view of others – it certainly would have after hearing it." The fact that you also dreamt of it? That is more telling than anything.

Raeden’s eyes widen when he hears your words, a frown furrowing his brow and he reaches out to hold your shoulders. “My love, do not feel pressured to do anything.” He urges you softly.

"I feel no pressure," you promise him, laying your hand over his and squeezing it gently. As reassuring a gesture as such a small thing can be. "It is not something I may ever wish to engage in. But..." It takes more than a moment to gather your thoughts, and you end up sighing. "I want to understand," you say finally. "That is all."

"We are all a part of each other's lives now." Ellaria agrees, looking past Oberyn to offer you a smile. "Understanding is a noble goal."

For his part, Oberyn is impatient and thinks that it might be best to just send you away. But the yearning in your voice mixed with Ellaria’s immediate offer of comfort makes him hesitate. He turns around and stares at you. “Then we will seek to guide you to the answers.”

"I..." Raeden is looking at you as if you have grown a second head, but you look between the three other people in this room – in this one bath – and swallow fear once more. "I am sorry if having to guide me is a disappointment. But I doubt there is a book I could read on the subject."

“If there were such a book, my lover would possess it.” Ellaria assures you, making Oberyn chuckle.

“Forgive me, Princess.” He murmurs after a moment. “I am getting ahead of myself. I forget that you northerners are not raised with the freedoms that I have been afforded.”

"I may never be used to being called princess, and that is the simple end of things." His laugh is relieving, and you end up smiling in your own right. "I do not wish for any of us to be strangers. And if we are to be friends, then understanding is most necessary."

The problem is that he has already realized he does not just want to be your friend, he wants to fuck you. Oberyn wants to bring both you and your paramour into his bed to see how the dynamic would work. “Are you nervous for your entrance to the wedding?”

"Yes." That is not worth lying about, or being too proud to admit, since he will be right beside you and see your fear for himself. "Social grace has never been my greatest skill."

“If you prefer, you can just stay silent.” He hums, smirking slightly since that seems to be a skill you have not mastered despite your mother’s best efforts. “It will be shocking enough to have the Prince of Dorne escorting his wife and his paramour to a wedding.”

"I am afraid silence is not my forte, either." You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. "Too curious for my own good, my eldest brother likes to say. And besides which, the future queen has...been very friendly to me. I fear keeping silent on such a day would offend her greatly."

“Then you will say what you say and damn whoever takes offense.” He shrugs one shoulder casually and leans back to wet his hair to wash. “You are a princess. Only two inside the seven kingdoms can truly tell you to be quiet.” He doesn’t add that it all depends on the day to determine if he would listen.

"I will endeavor to remember that." Raeden looks doubtful, though, and you urge him down with a hand on his shoulder so that you can kiss him. "It will do none of us any good to be rude, today, my love. I may not say much of anything of interest or importance, but you and the prince will both be there to make sure I do not stumble." Looking past him, you offer your unexpected ally a smile as well. "And Ellaria will be my guide for confidence. I am sure of that."

“You will be perfect.” She muses with a smile of her own. “Your dress will match my own and look splendid against Oberyn’s robes.”

You nod, glad to have Ellaria to bolster you, and set back to washing yourself as modestly and earnestly as possible. "It will be a day not soon to be forgotten."

******

“Do not fret and worry with it too much.” Ellaria murmurs to you as the carriage pulls up. “The more you do, the better chance you have at showing off your unmentionables.” You are very modest and have played with the low hem of the dress several times, drawing Oberyn’s and her own eyes to your breasts.

"I don't think I have ever worn anything as elegant. Or as revealing." You bite your lip when you look back up at her, holding back a self-conscious expression of concern. The gown itself is beautiful and not terribly immodest. While it certainly does show off your figure from the waist up, the thin skirts still envelope your legs and create a sort of flowing golden sea around them that would make even the clumsiest wearer appear elegant. The jewelry that was laid on your neck and hung from your ears gleams in the late morning sun, making you feel simultaneously extravagant and like a doll that has been dressed up by its owner. And perhaps you are exactly that, but the prince's gifts should be on full display today of all days. "I will try not to fuss too much."

"Your Raeden cannot keep his eyes off of you." She confides with a proud smirk, as if that had been her plan all along rather than making sure that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew that you are Oberyn Martell's bride. "We will have to remind him not to draw his impressive sword on those that stare at you wantonly." He is not inside the carriage for the ride from Flea Bottom, but Oberyn has decided that he will be the guard brought for the wedding, making sure that your own soulmate is nearby.

“He has more propriety than anyone I have ever met. You need not fear his ability to hold his tongue.” What he might say or do afterward – in private – is another matter entirely. It would not be the first time that Raeden ravaged you after a particularly long day of standing by while you were wearing something he liked very much. Unfortunately, the blue gown that he always claimed was his favorite to see you in had been torn apart by your mother’s rage. Not everything in your trunks had been intact.

"Oh, I am not afraid of what he might say." Ellaria corrects with a smile as she glances over at her own lover. "It is unusual to have a man who does hold his tongue, for our prince has never learned that particular trait."

"I have no need to hold my tongue." Oberyn counters, his dark eyes fixed on you as he answers. "Whatever my position does not afford me, my spear does."

It is not your fault for taking his double meaning. Not truly. Not when he displayed himself to you so fully in the bath this morning and let his fingers graze your neck so enticingly while giving you the necklace you are wearing as a gift not half an hour ago. It is not reprehensible to be flustered slightly by the direct attention of such a worldly man. Not even when that man is your husband of less than one day.

He notices you fidget; he notices everything about you. The knowing light in Ellaria's eyes telling him that she is aware of his attentions. and it does not matter to her. She approves of his interest in his wife, as fruitless as it may prove to be. The fact that you have not fallen at his feet providing him with a curiosity that he has not had for a long time.

“We should not be late.” It would be most impolite, if nothing else, and you do not know how long you can stand between the two of them with their attention on you. Raeden’s gaze is comfortable and warming – when the prince and Ellaria look at you with such interest it makes you feel as if you might combust fully on the spot. “That would not do well for our first appearance as a party.”

Her hand is careful not to ruin the maid's work with your hair as her hands cup your cheeks. The carriage is at a stop and any moment the door will be opened. Your lips are plush and painted with the loveliest shade of lip color, making Ellaria lean in and kiss you.

The moment lingers, just the sweet pressure of her mouth on yours as your mind races to catch up with what is happening and realize that it is as sweet and gentle a kiss as any you have had before. By the time you remember yourself and reluctantly sit back in the carriage, you have more questions about what has just happened than anything else. "I—" Your eyes flicker between Ellaria and the prince, wondering if the amusement you see in their eyes is imagined or not. "I am not...entirely sure...what I did to earn such a response."

"Beautiful things deserve to be appreciated." Ellaria hums, smirking slightly as she pulls back and scooches towards the carriage door just as she raps on it to signify it is permissible to open it. "And you might be the loveliest of all Oberyn's possessions."

The driver helps Ellaria out of the carriage while you fluster measurably, avoiding the prince's eyes and knowing smirk by following directly after his paramour. The line of carriages extends in either direction as guests disembark, and empty carriages pull away to wait for their owners to be done with the day's festivities. Raeden stands resplendent in his regalia that marks him a guardian of House Martell and offers you a small but proud smile. The prince steps out behind you, making your party of four complete, and you raise your chin slightly to match Ellaria's easy confidence. It may be unconventional to look to her as an example, but your mind is still reeling from the feeling of her lips against yours and you could use the guidance.

Oberyn saunters, he doesn’t walk up to the pair of gorgeous women. Both of them belonging to him. His sun, his world and his…wife. “Ladies.” He hums. "Are we ready to shock the Seven Kingdoms and make every man here fume in jealousy?"

"A few of the ladies as well, I hope." Ellaria adds, a satisfied smile gracing her beautiful mouth as both of you take Oberyn's arms. Raeden is merely one step behind, ready and at attention.

"With our guard here, of course the women will be jealous." Oberyn knows the weight of his own appeal and wears it easily as your fingers twitch against the crook of his elbow. His own robes are exquisite and in total coordination with yours and Ellaria's gowns and Ser Raeden's uniform.

You had told your soulmate before leaving Flea Bottom that you thought he looked very handsome in his uniform, and the light in his eyes had shone a little bit brighter at your praise. Now he looks proud as a peacock as he walks behind you, and you glance back to offer him a broad grin. "It will certainly be a very interesting day."

There is an easy air of confidence as Oberyn starts his walk towards the large sept. His eyes watchful for the bitter harpy that is your mother even though no one would think that he has a care in the world.

There are eyes on you in such a way that you have never experienced before. People whispering, wondering who you are and why you are on the prince's arm. Everyone knows he brought a lover to King's Landing, but two? Two seems outrageous even for Oberyn Martell. Guided inside, the pews and aisles of the sept are separated by an ocean of guests extending greetings to each other and inspecting each other's wardrobes for the grand event. The voice of Olenna Tyrell seems to be boisterous and cheery in the center of things, and in this moment she is nodding along with the words of a woman whose voice you would recognize across whole continents. Olenna Tyrell is being talked at, at length, by your own mother.

He is aware the moment your mother catches sight of you. Her voice dies mid word, and the sharp inhale of disapproval nearly echoes in the inner chamber of the sept despite the din of conversation behind her. Never one to shy away from a fight, Oberyn guides you towards the two women with a charming and mischievous smile on his face. "Lady Tyrell." He nods his head towards the elder woman while subtly snubbing your mother. "It seems as if the gardens around the seven kingdoms have been emptied of their blooms to provide such lavish arrangements." He compliments. "No doubt your keen eye had a hand in it."

"You've been a flatterer since you were eighteen years old." Olenna Tyrell observes in amusement, the suppressed smile on her face peaked up at the edges in delight. "I'll bow my head, Prince Oberyn, to save my knees from the curtsy. But who are your exquisite guests? Rumours have swirled over who you might bring today."

“On my right, my lovely paramour, Ellaria Sand.” He introduces her to the head of the Tyrell household as if she were a lady in her own right. He says your name as he turns towards you with equal pride. “My own bride, newly gotten.” He looks at you as if you are a precious gemstone, irreplaceable to him.

"Bride?" The Tyrell matriarch's expression morphs into one of wolfish amusement. "My darling I did not even recognize you. Marriage has given you an absolutely radiant glow." She knew of your betrothal, of course, having been the one to encourage her granddaughter to befriend you as a suitable ally. But a swift marriage between a reluctant pair almost always yields an interesting story. "My most heartfelt congratulations."

“Many thanks.” His head finally turns towards your mother. “The Princess Martell, lady.” He keeps his voice steady but there is a clear warning. “Respects are to be extended.”

The fire in your mother's eyes is unmistakable. Of the hundreds of times you have seen it, though, nothing could compare to this. Not only did you and Raeden escape the grasp of her punishments, but you had run so far that you had become untouchable in the process. Drawn up to your full height on the prince's arm, you actually feel every bit as proud as you look in this moment. As proud as you look – your mother's anger and frustration may be more so.

The moment for courtesy passes silently, your mother’s eyes fixed on you and Oberyn feels the tiniest pressure of Ellaria’s hand on the crook of his elbow. A silent plea for him to not cause a scene that will attract the attention of every lord already in the Sept. The charming smile turns pointed, his eyes hardening as he watches her stubbornly refuse to extend his wife the respect her station now demands. It is an insult to you, but also to Dorne. The delicate necklace around your neck is not just a gorgeous gift, it serves a purpose. It is a smaller, lighter copy of the heavy gold chain around his own neck. The signet of House Martell crafted into the costly metal and indicating your place among royalty. His voice drops, tone cold enough to freeze any man currently sitting his ass on the giant ice block that is the Northern Wall. “You will bend your knee or I will bend it for you.” He threatens, eyes glittering with promise.

Your eyes widen, looking to the man beside you with immediate surprise. Demanding not just a modicum of manners from your mother but a complete bending of the knee is not at all what you expected from him, and you must wonder if this is not some play for power or else a rather public admonishment to your mother. There is no need to play for power for a prince, of course, but your hand unconsciously tightens on his arm anyway, as if you are trying to warn him of her rage without words.

Her smile turns so brittle it would crack underneath the smallest breeze and he can hear the fury in her words, sweet as she might have intended them, the venom pulses underneath. “My lord, this my daughter.” Her tittering laugh is meant to disarm him, but it does nothing.

“Your Grace.” He corrects, one eyebrow arching as he stares her down. “And your daughter is now my princess, the vows recorded in the Citadel.”

Olenna Tyrell watches with fascination, aware that Oberyn had waved away her own need to bend her knee, making a special point to not accept any other form of niceties. It is intriguing and she wonders what Margery had managed to learn during your walk through the gardens. You and your prince will be allies in coming days.

Your mother – the woman who has threatened your life more than any other creature in the world – is nervously realizing that she is being watched as eyes begin to turn toward your small group on the sept floor. Olenna Tyrell looks positively tickled but your own mother could spit fire until a voice from a few yards away breaks through the crowd.

“My darling girl!” Your father turns from his conversation with Lord Tyrion and in no less than a moment is at your side to embrace you. “We did not know where you’d gone,” he murmurs in your ear, the relief in his voice obvious. “Your mother said you ran away to spite us but I knew you would never do that.”

“No, Papa.” With your voice barely above a whisper, you hug your father back with one arm and wonder just how many armies of lies your mother has told him throughout the years. More than you can fathom, probably. “I will explain it all to you later, but the prince and I said our vows yesterday at the Citadel.”

“Truly?” He looks so proud that it almost breaks your heart, and there is a small rippling gasp from the crowd as your own Lord Father bends the knee without any prompting whatsoever. “Then you are truly now my princess,” he tells you with a watery smile. “Although you have long been that in my heart.”

Oberyn watches the fury etched on your mother’s face contort as she realizes that she has no choice to follow suit or call attention to her rebellion. When your mother finally dips down, it’s the barest inch as she nearly growls. Your father, jovial imbecile that he is, doesn’t even notice. His focus is on his daughter and the prince cannot help but wonder how such a pairing exists together without bloodshed. They seem to be such polar opposites. “Forgive the haste.” Oberyn takes your hand and kisses it sensuously. “After our meeting, there was no need to wait until we returned to Dorne to make this gorgeous creature my princess.”

“It is a relief to see such happiness in the match,” your father is beaming, nearly on the verge of joyful tears, and he looks past you only for the briefest moment to nod to Raeden behind you. “Ser Stone will serve your family well, your Grace. As he has served ours. We wish you every happiness and many children in the years to come.”

Your lover’s safety is assured. Oberyn realizes your mother had never taken her accusations to the lord, making it an ill-timed bluff on her part. He nods, his dark eyes fixed on your mother. “The safety of those under my protection is something that I take very seriously.” He replies, sending her a clear warning.

Your mother swallows heavily, looking between you and your new husband as she realizes she has made a calculated error. The tales of the prince’s promiscuity and prowess as a warrior had led her to believe that he would treat you as breeding stock. Like the way a northern man would – disregarding your opinions and teaching you submissions. The Prince of Dorne, against everything she had hoped before meeting him yesterday – seems actually to like you.

“Oberyn has been most attentive and kind.” It is the first time you have ever called him by his given name and it warms through you expectedly.

“It is easy when your kindness and grace is a trait that is a credit to your house.” Obviously not from your mother but the compliment from the prince makes your father beam with pride. “She will be most welcomed in Dorne.”

Your father finds his feet again and embraces you, and for a moment it seems as though everyone present has entirely forgotten your mother, who must push to her feet in her own. Lady Olenna Tyrell and Lord Tyrion are nearby observing everything, and your father regards you fondly, with a raised eyebrow. “Finding married life not so disagreeable now, your Grace?”

The fact that your father believes that you are happily wed makes Oberyn believe that while he might love you as a daughter, he does not know you. Ellaria stands off to the side and he turns to exchange a meaningfully amused look since he is well aware of his own daughters’ desires, even the younger ones.

“I could hardly think of anything as comforting as the care I have received since marrying.” As careful as your wording is, it is also very true. The prince has been nothing but kind and understanding, even sweet, since you came to him for help. Ellaria’s own attention to you has been only welcoming. And Raeden? Raeden has been the magnificent man that you have always known him to be. If you could not wed your soulmate, this is hardly a worst-case substitute.

“Good.” Your father is extremely pleased, especially since that means good relations with Dorne. It will prove very profitable to your former house.

“We should sit.” People are beginning to rustle around you, finding seats and turning their attention to the wedding at hand instead of the one no one was invited to. “We will have time to speak more later.”

“That we will, pumpkin.” Your father nods respectfully to you and Oberyn, frowning slightly when he sees the man’s paramour but he doesn’t speak on it since you seem undisturbed by her presence.

“Yes, I think we will indeed,” you mother murmurs unhappily, and you can’t quite tell if she’s going to have opinions for your father or for you. One thing is certain either way, Prince Oberyn won’t be hearing a single word of it.

“Come, my loves.” Oberyn offers both of his arms to you and Ellaria. “The Sept and the wedding of the king awaits us.”

It is for show. You must remember that. And yet the moment the word passes his lips it pierces something in you that you had not expected. It might be hope, or affection, or simply gratitude, but when you take his arm to walk together there is a moment where you could almost swear he means it. And that is not something you had ever even considered possible until this very moment.

Oberyn does not enter anywhere without causing a stir. Especially when he comes with not one, but two beautiful women on his arms. He smirks as he nods towards another noble that he has seen at the brothel over the past few days. Now sitting next to his wife.

People gawk when the prince is near. That is something you will have to adjust to in time. For now you are simply grateful when he situates you and Ellaria between himself and Raeden in the vast pews of the Citadel to bear witness to the Union of King Joffrey and Lady Margaery.

Oberyn allows you to sit beside your lover, his own body pressed against Ellaria’s, although he drapes his arm over the back of the bench so he can trail his fingers over the skin of your shoulder. Making sure people see him touch you. As if you are his wife in every sense of the word.

The painfully tedious ceremony holds no joy or wonderment for you. The couple at the altar do not seem happy to be standing with each other – more that they are playacting at it. The words seem insincere and the vows rehearsed, and it throws into sharp relief how different a turn yesterday had taken in your own marriage. That would have been you, three or four weeks from now standing beside the prince with dread in your mouth. Instead he had saved you without hesitation. Your marriage of necessity already holds far more affection than this match in front of you. Even if he is only touching you for show, the simple fact that you do not shrink from the prince’s touch speaks volumes.

Oberyn is well aware of the affect that touching can have on a person. He feels the slight shiver and goosebumps pop up on your skin. While no one should be paying attention, any that are would think that you are anticipating a more intimate touch later. He leans over to kiss his paramour’s shoulder when Joffrey speaks.

The king may as well be speaking gibberish for all the attention you are paying, too distracted by the ghost of a touch across your shoulder to register the words echoing over the assembled spectators. If you were in private you might have closed your eyes against the feeling but as it is you are left to wonder how something so simple is able to make you feel so much. It would be downright embarrassing if anyone could see the way your body is responding – and the thin sheen of shame at being aroused to the point of dampness between your legs from anyone other than Raeden is very real.

Raeden knows the prince is touching you, he can feel your body stiffen beside his. Confusion swirling in his gut because he’s jealous. Not only because he can touch you whenever he wants, but because the guard wants Oberyn to touch him.

Ellaria, for her part, seems amused by being in the middle of you and Oberyn's lightly flirtatious touch. Having been on the receiving end of so many of his touches before she does not feel jealous to know he is touching someone else that way, but is very much interested to know how you will feel in response. From the way you are watching the altar very deliberately with faraway eyes, she would have to say you are enjoying it – perhaps very much.

Finally the vows are exchanged and Oberyn grimaces when the kiss happens. Leaning in and whispering loud enough that you and his lover can both hear. “I think that there will be some wine hastily swallowed after that kiss.”

You know you should not react, but the way your cheeks tighten barely smothers a smirk. The fact that you did not have to suffer through a ceremony as painful as this one seems a mercy now.

“Lover.” Ellaria chides, although her tone is vastly amused. “They are young still.”

Oberyn snorts and shakes his head. “I had already sired Obara by that age. Killled a man in my first duel.”

The whole of the sept are rising to their feet to applaud the happy couple, and when you stand you throw an amused smile at Ellaria with the soft memory of her kiss in the carriage on your lips. "At their age I had not even been kissed," you admit under your breath.

“That is a shame.” She pouts, shaking her head. “You should be kissed often. Everywhere.”

If the gentleman in front of you heard her he does not show it, but you look away briefly as the sept goes up in applause and cheers as the people of Westeros celebrate their new queen and her marriage to the king. "Perhaps," you murmur under your breath, not knowing what else to say.

“Come.” Oberyn slides out of the bench and reaches for both of you. “There will be wine and food. Perhaps we shall find some entertainment as well.”

"Dancing, lover?" Ellaria hums as she casts a look back at Raeden. "I believe your bride and I should both like to dance."

“Then we will dance.” He smirks and leans into you. “Ellaria is a very seductive dancer, my love.” He confides playfully.

It is only for show, you remind yourself again when that word warms through you like fire. "Raeden is a wonderful dancer as well." Is what you say instead, offering up the morsel of information to be shared within your small group. The times you had danced together in secret were wonderful, romantic moments.

“Then you and my paramour must take turns with Ser Raeden.” Oberyn knows that it will be far less suspicious if he dances with both women, as if the prince had ordered it. It would allow you to have a moment with your soulmate, being open without it being common knowledge.

"We will all enjoy the festivities to their utmost, your Grace." Raeden's voice is low but warm, full of gratitude at being able to be a part of the moment instead of simply standing by and observing. It is not easy to forever feel like an ornament.

“Make sure you eat too.” Oberyn glances over at him with a grin. “Ellaria will wear a man out if he does not eat before tangling with her.”

"I will, your Grace." The invitation could even be considered an order, but Ellaria winks over her shoulder at him and Raeden actually smiles. To be treated well – as though he is wanted by people other than you – is a welcome feeling.

As the four of you make your way to the gardens, Oberyn swaggers, aware that many have their eyes on the unusual pairing, and he hums happily. “I think the queen mother will not be happy that the attention is taken off her bastard son.”

"I only hope Queen Margaery is not upset." She had been so kind to you, after all. You would hate to sour her wedding day.

“I doubt she will be.” Oberyn doesn’t believe the girl is stupid enough to believe that the day is supposed to be truly happy. Not with Olenna Tyrell as her grandmother. He looks around and spots her brother Loras. Smirking when the third son of Mace Tyrell catches his eye.

"Do you know that gentleman?" The curly-haired blonde looks familiar but you cannot place him, thinking only that you must have seen him in the halls of the Keep during the few days that you were there. The fact that he is looking rather lustfully at the man you are recently married to does not truly factor into anything. In fact, you understand it fully.

“Hmmmm.” Oberyn guides you to a table to sit down, plopping into a seat beside you as Ellaria sits on his other side. “Loras Tyrell.” He informs you. “Our queen’s brother and the Knight of Flowers.” He hums in amusement. He sends the man a small, sly wink.

"I do not think I am familiar with that title." There are pitchers of wine and goblets on every table even before the feast has begun, and bowls of fruit and nuts scattered around the gardens for guests to indulge in with their first glasses of wine. Even after only knowing the prince for a day, you know for certain that he will focus on those bowls of treats over any other food.

Ellaria leans over Oberyn and pops a berry into her lover’s mouth as he continues to make eyes at the other man. “He is also known as the knight of pansies.” She tells you with a smirk. “It is said that half the women in the seven kingdoms want to bed him, but….” She moans quietly when Oberyn sucks on her finger. “His interest lay elsewhere, preferring a cock over a cunt.”

"Oh." Your eyes widen for a moment before you can school your expression into something much more neutral, and you almost imagine feeling Raeden stiffen on your other side. "I see." So many other people in world seem so comfortable with that attraction – the pull between two men or two women – but you were raised differently. Making your own moments of attraction to other women all the more confusing and never to be spoken of.

“Do not tell me you disapprove?” Ellaria asks, hearing the censure in your voice. If you cannot accept Oberyn’s tastes, then your marriage will be a cold one.

"No." It is out of your mouth so fast that the word is almost too loud, which surely would have gotten your group even more attention. "N—no. It is only..." It is that you are jealous, you realize with a moment of regret, and you look down at your hands in your lap instead of at any of them. "It is only that we are not so free with such things in the Vale," you explain quietly. "It is an adjustment."

“It is not free in the majority of the seven kingdoms.” Oberyn reaches for a wine goblet and takes a swallow. “I just do not care what people think of me.”

"Perhaps that is a virtue, your Grace." If you could simply disappear in order to escape, you would do it happily. This moment has made you far too aware of things that you had been trying to tamp down and your discomfort is rising measurably.

“Lover, you are embarrassing your bride.” Ellaria tilts her head slightly as she looks over at you.

"Upsetting." Raeden corrects softly, knowing the look on your face as intimately as any lover possibly could. He cannot comfort you in public, but he can certainly alert those who can to how you are truly feeling. What he does not know is why you are upset. Unless the idea of two men indulging in each other is that dismaying for you after all.

That makes Oberyn look away from his potential conquest to look over at you. “Why is my princess upset?” He demands softly, reaching out and caressing your cheek.

"Please..." If they ask then you will be bound to say, and that could be more embarrassing for you than upsetting. Or perhaps it would be damaging altogether, you cannot tell. All you know is that someone is bound to be hurt by it and you do not wish to hurt anyone at all. "Please, do not fuss. I am simply not feeling myself."

Oberyn is not a man who listens, especially not when he can see now there is something bothering you. You might not be his lover, but you are his wife, under his care. And like everyone under his care, he listens. Turning to Ellaria, a silent conversation passes with a look and flirtations with Loras are put on hold as he stands and draws you to your feet. “Come with me.”

There is nothing you can do but obey, and not only because he is your husband. There are eyes on you from every direction and you refuse to cause a scene. So you are left to simply nod, letting him take your hand and lead you from the table as guests continue to arrive and mill about, greeting each other before the king and his new queen arrive to their own banquet.

He knows that some will think that he is stealing his wife away for an intimate moment, and he might have if circumstances had been different. As it is, he guides you towards a deserted part of the gardens before he stops. “Princess?”

"I am still not used to being called that." And you cannot bring yourself to meet his eyes, either, looking down at your hands and skirts to avoid it entirely. "And I apologize if I have upset you at all."

“I am not upset.” He captures your chin and tilts it up, watching you with serious eyes. “However, you are.”

"I am..." His eyes are warm despite their seriousness, and you are reminded that he has been a father almost as long as you have been alive. It makes you wonder if he is treating you like he might treat one of his daughters – which is a terrible thought for entirely separate reasons. “I am.” You admit softly, and your eyes close to avoid looking at him again. "But only with myself."

“Why are you upset with yourself?” He frowns slightly and looks back towards the garden where the clapping had started. Obviously the king and queen had shown up. “Does the idea of those things disgust you?” He had not gotten that feeling before, but maybe he had been wrong.

"Those things?" It takes a moment for your mind to catch up again, but you shake your head. It feels like you are swimming when you do, a very disorienting feeling to begin with and now it makes you feel like you are drowning. "You mean...no. No, it does not...love is not disgusting. That is not..." You sigh out a long, deep breath and wish to all seven gods that you had been able to simply keep your composure at that table. Or that Raeden had not ratted you out to your new husband. "My first experiences with intimacy were with a woman. It is not that I am disgusted at all."

He is stunned into silence for a moment before he slowly starts to smirk. “Princess.” He picks up your hand and kisses the back of your hand and squeezes it gently. “There is no judgement here.” He promises. “If you wish to resume those experiences, you are most welcome to. As long as your Raeden does not object.” He longs to ask what kind of intimacies you have experienced but you look like you are about to expire. “If Ellaria is not your choice, there are dozens of clean, gorgeous whores to choose room when we return tonight.”

"Ellaria is remarkable. Anyone she even looks at twice should be honored." The last thing you would ever want is for either of them to believe that you were not grateful for their help and appreciative of their attention. Having the prince and his paramour turn their attention on you for even a moment is like being bathed in summer sun. "I simply..." Although there is nothing simple about it. "Never met anyone before who ever seemed to be able to make the difficulties of caring for more than one person seem possible. And it is...more difficult to understand than I would like to admit." It breaks the very foundation of what you thought was true about love and attraction, and so it is causing you more discomfort to think about than you are willing to admit. "Forgive me if that is a disappointment."

“The only disappointment will be if you do not live how you wish to.” Oberyn assures you, starting to understand your dilemma a bit better. “Men can have their wives, their lovers, and whores while no one would think it odd. A woman is held to a different standard because men want things their way. They wish to never believe they might not satisfy the wife or there is no need for another lover beyond his visits to her bed.” He shakes his head and scoffs. “They are fools.”

"Before very recently, I thought I knew well what life I wanted." It was one you never thought that you would be able to live, but you were convinced that it would have been what made you happy. To be Raeden's wife in a small village somewhere in the unknown world would have been wonderful. To birth and raise his children, to work for his happiness would have made your own. That unattainable dream is now even further away and you find yourself wondering now if happiness might actually be attainable with the life you have been handed. Or if Raeden would despise you for being glad to have Prince Oberyn and his paramour in your life.

“If you wish, I will send you to a small estate.” Oberyn frowns, not liking the idea much. “You and your Raeden. A place without servants or pretense.” He really doesn’t care for the idea, but you don’t seem to know what you want.

"But then I would not see you." Your response is immediate, shaken slightly, and your eyes dart up to his with surprising speed.

He relaxes slightly and nods. “Then you will figure out what makes you happy and enjoy it to the fullest.” He predicts with a soft smile.

"I can only hope that it does not take too long to understand myself." Although, you have an immense fear that it will. Apparently you have been lying to yourself just as you have lied to others. Just about different things.

“It takes however long it takes.” He pats your hand. “Did you enjoy your night with your soulmate?”

"It was a relief to not be afraid," you tell him quietly. Being patted makes you feel like a child, and once again you wonder if he thinks of you with the same regard as any other young girl his daughters' age. "I hope you enjoyed your night as well?"

“There is much pleasure to be had within the walls of that brothel.” He hums happily. “Cal very eagerly bounced on my cock while Ellaria sat on my tongue and licked her pretty little redhead’s cunt.” He chuckles, “I am hoping tonight to find out how talented the Tyrell boy’s ass milks a cock.”

"And that much physical pleasure does nothing to diminish your love for Ellaria?" It is the bare minimum that you can do for him, in the way he has done so much for you, to try to understand him. The way he indulges his lust seems to be a fundamental need for him, so as much as it is new for you, you will do what you can to become more comfortable with it.

“Never.” Oberyn shakes his head. “Everyone would have to stand in line behind her.” He smiles and gives a very dreamy look. “It actually makes our own love sweeter. Her pleasure is my pleasure and she feels the same.”

"The way you love her is admirable." On your best days, you hope that you love Raeden half as well. It is only that the wish in the back of your mind for love and happiness is beginning to include him, and that is startling to you.

“Despite the fact that we share scars, I choose her.” He explains. “Every day we choose each other.”

"That makes you both very lucky. To be able to choose each other without fear." Your hands are still in his and they flex gently in his grip. Despite being married to this man under the eyes on the gods, you feel irrevocably shy in his presence.

“You can choose your soulmate, Princess.” He reminds you quietly. “Now, we must return and pretend that we were fucking.”

"I do choose him." A wave of boldness rises up from your toes that you do not understand or truly even want to comprehend, but it is there anyway. "I did not know before now that I could choose more than one person." His hands are firm in yours and before you can stop yourself, you are pulling him back to you and pressing your lips to his in earnest, only hoping that he does not consider you foolish for acting impulsively.

Oberyn had promised you that he would never take what you did not offer and he had meant it. However, you have initiated this kiss and as much as it shocks him, he reacts. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back so he can guide you towards the nearest tree as his tongue pushes past your lips and he kisses you with a hunger that surprises even him.

The fire of the moment leaves you breathless, shaken to your core just the same way you were the first time you kissed Raeden. There is passion and need there, to such a degree that you cling to him as he cages you between his body and the nearest tree, letting him map every inch of your mouth as you eagerly do the same with him.

It is a change of heart from yesterday but he won’t question it. Not when you are pressing yourself against him and gripping his robes as if you are afraid that he would pull away. Making him groan quietly as his tongue strokes yours eagerly.

It is only the need to breathe that makes you pull away from him, and even then you feel your head spin. “I—” You do not need to apologize for kissing your husband, but still it feels like an intrusion. Like you ought to have asked, or spoken to Ellaria first. Spoken to Raeden first. But it was done in the heat of the moment. “I do not yet know exactly what I want,” you admit, your heart racing. “But I wish for you to be included in it. Somehow.”

“Then I will fit into whatever slot you determine.” He is panting slightly and he cannot deny that his cock has hardened under his robes. You are disheveled and that will play into the rumor that he fucked you in the gardens nicely.

“We should return.” Your body is on fire the way only one other person has ever managed in your life, and you have to consciously make the decision to let go of his robes and step back so you don’t do anything inappropriate.

“We should.” Oberyn wants to kiss you again, but the moment has passed. Offering you his arm again as Cersei comes into view. He huffs quietly and stares.

The flustered expression on your face coupled with the Dornish prince looking like the cat who got the cream makes Cersei rankle, but she says nothing as the pair of you glide past her. Another slut for Oberyn's harem, she thinks with a roll of her eyes.

“That will be a burr in her cunt for days.” He predicts quietly with a smirk.

"Surely she knows your reputation." You murmur, looking back at him. "It should not surprise her."

“One would think.” Oberyn hums, knowing it is only a matter of time before Cersei lowers herself to actually approach him with her real problem, her daughter. She has never been happy that Myrcella had been sent to Dorne, betrothed to his nephew. “She is not to be trusted.” He advises you quietly. “The Lannisters lie.”

“I do not believe a Lannister has ever spoken me to before our meeting yesterday.” You breathe as he ushers you quickly through the gardens.

“Count yourself fortunate.” Oberyn sneers. “Even more so if you do not have to converse with another until the day their house lays in ruin.”

“Do not let her presence sour your mood, my lord.” Until catching sight of the Dowager, he had seemed to be in a relatively good humor, and you are still very much buzzing from kissing him. The last thing you want is for that good feeling to be overshadowed.

He relaxes slightly, aware he was letting his personal animosity for the Lannisters get to him. “You are right.” He looks over at you with amusement. “Is it all women, or those that I am around?”

“I am not sure I understand?” Perhaps you might know what he is asking you if your mind were not so hazy, but with your hand wrapped around his arm as you walk, there is no escaping it.

“The women around me seem to always be right.” He jokes, sending you a small wink when your frown of confusion seems to make him want to kiss you again. While you might have kissed him a moment ago, he doesn’t believe that you have given him permission to reciprocate whenever he wished.

“Ellaria is very clever.” Something which you do not know if you can claim for yourself, but you certainly can praise her from sunrise to sunset.

“As is the woman who is my princess.” He hums, patting your hand. “Clever and brave.” He praises. “You decided that your lover’s life was worth everything when another would have never been brave enough to venture through the city or come to a man you had no interest in marrying.”

“You were my only hope.” There is no shame in admitting that, especially because he had proven to be so much more than just understanding. He has so much kindness to share. “And I am very grateful to you for your mercy. Not everyone would have opened their arms to their betrothed’s soulmate the way you did.”

“It would have been a shame to have such a man put to death for a lie.” He does not think he did much. “Nor would you have been happy if he had.”

“Yes,” you agree with a nod. “But do you realize how few would have taken either my happiness or the lie into account?”

“All but those few are fools.” He tells you with a shrug. “Liars will continue to lie and happiness in your home is the greatest treasure a man can possess.”

“And you are a good man, which I am grateful for.” When Raeden and Ellaria are in sight again, you can see plainly that they have been having their own intimate discussion and though you expect to feel nerves or jealousy, it is relief that washes over you.

“There are some who would not agree with you.” Oberyn sees that Raeden has shifted closer to Ellaria, his protective nature apparently extending towards your husband’s paramour. It is warming to see.

“Then perhaps it is that you are a good husband?” When he pauses in his step you offer him a shy smile. “And for that I am grateful as well.”

Retuning to the feast, Oberyn sets you down and nods towards your lover, assuring him that you are not upset any longer. Another, longer conversation would be needed, but it could wait for another time.

Ellaria tucks herself into Oberyn’s side easily when he sits again, and there is mischief in her eyes but the first thing she does is lean into him. “All is well?”

“Of course.” Oberyn leans in and brushes his nose against hers. “My wife feels guilty that your kiss is not the first she has ever shared with a woman.”

“No?” This seems to delight Ellaria, or at least it is unexpected enough that her eyes light up. “But that is not a reason for guilt. I do not desire to claim her innocence.”

“I think she does believe that to want another means that she does not love her Raeden enough.” Oberyn ventures quietly.

“Or is she afraid that he will think so?” Ellaria frowns, tutting softly. “I hope neither does. For their sake. Love should not include fear.”

“We know that.” His hand links with hers and he brings them up to kiss hers softly. “But we have been free to love for longer than they have.”

“I am fine,” you assure Raeden quickly after sitting down again, touching your hand to his leg ever so briefly under the table where it cannot be seen. “I was overwhelmed, but I am better. Did you…have a conversation with Ellaria? While we were gone?” The urgency of the question in your mind makes you wonder if you hope they did more than speak, but that is too vast of a thought to conquer right now.

“I did.” Raeden nods, sure that he hears hope in your voice and wonders about it. Something has shifted slightly, as if the bath this morning changed things and he is not sure how to align himself.

"And...all is well?" There is no reason it should not be, but the sudden guilt you feel at having enjoyed kissing the prince so thoroughly floods you and makes you reach for your wine.

"It...is." Raeden does not tell you what Ellaria said, you are aware of her interest in him, you have spoken on it. However, he wonders if you are really aware of her interest in you.

"You are upset." The weight on your shoulders presses down on you, chastising you for daring to enjoy the prince's attention while leaving your soulmate to be upset by someone else. " I—I should not have...have left you. Forgive me."

"I am not upset." Confused, confounded and wholly unsure of himself – but he is not upset. Especially considering that you are wearing a slightly dreamy expression on your face. One that reminds him of the look that you carried when the two of you were early in the days of your secret romance.

"If that is what you say then I believe you." After all, he has never lied to you. Or made you believe that he was hiding something. It is only you who are hiding things from him. At this very moment. The fear of what he would think if he knew you were feeling attraction for the man you married is deep and terrifying.

He is very aware of the fact that you do not sound completely convinced. And yet he finds himself nodding as he looks towards you again and then around the feast to make sure that no one is watching. "All is well." He promises, reaching down and stroking your thigh gently under the table.

"You are smiling, lover." Ellaria leans into Oberyn's side, her voice quiet and a berry between her fingers already destined for his lips. She has a feeling that whatever passed between you and the prince, it was more lighthearted than what was spoken between her and Raeden.

"She kissed me." Oberyn reveals quietly, accepting the berry eagerly and turning to watch his lover's reaction to that little bit of news.

Her eyebrow raises in interest, and Ellaria tucks her smirk into the corner of her mouth. "More than a polite peck? Otherwise you would not look so pleased with yourself."

"Much different from the shallow kiss we exchanged at the Citadel." He hums, finding it to be a small victory. The woman he had married yesterday had no intentions of ever kissing him again, by all accounts.

"So your idea to invade their bath this morning turned out the way you wished?" It had not been a malicious act, or even a manipulative one, but it had been Oberyn's intention to attempt to knock down the walls between the four of them this morning. Or at least to begin to fracture the strength of those walls.

"Perhaps." He won't say that you are willing to jump into bed with him, but the idea of more is certainly there. "How was your conversation with our Ser Raeden?"

"He is, I think, a harder nut to crack." Which is disappointing, but not exactly surprising. She reaches for his wine to put the goblet in Oberyn's hand. "As you say, we have been free to love for longer than they have. It is harder to admit one's wants when you have not been allowed to even think of those things in your own mind."

"They are both very repressed creatures." Oberyn sighs softly.

"It is not their fault." She tuts softly, feeling sympathy rather than pity. "Your princess is already making strides."

"Yes she is." He looks over at you and watches as you Raeden talk quietly between yourselves. "Perhaps Ser Loras would enjoy our company this evening?" He asks, shifting his gaze back across the garden towards the other man.

Taking that to mean that you have not made much progress, Ellaria simply nods and leans in to brush a kiss or two along her soulmate’s jaw. “A delectable choice. You will fit perfectly between us, or else I will enjoy my evening quite thoroughly with Cal and Leyth.”

The music starts quietly as the minstrels begin to play. Filling the courtyard with the sweet strands of joy and light. Oberyn looks over at his lover and leans in, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. "Whatever we do, it will be together, my sun."

The crowd applauds dutifully to see the newly married couple dance together, the steps long practiced and rehearsed. The queen is resplendent and joyful, laughing as she moves with elegance, and soon enough others are standing to join the festivities.

Oberyn leans over again, making sure that he keeps his voice loud enough for any nearby to hear. "Ser Raeden, would you take my wife to dance?" He asks, standing and holding out his hand for Ellaria to take. "I would wish for her to enjoy all the festivities this wedding has to offer."

“It would be my honor.” Standing to offer you his hand for the very first time under the public eye as though you had not danced dozens of times in the woods or your chambers, Raeden bows his head respectfully and keeps his smile soft when you take his hand. Most people here have no idea who you are – who Raeden is – but can follow the pattern of two guests in House Martell’s colors getting up to dance together. For the other Dornish nobles that surround you? They simply could not care less who you dance with. There have been polite nods and smiles but nothing more quite yet. For now, your only focus is not stepping on Raeden’s toes in the dance.

Oberyn and Ellaria move fluidly with one another. Years together has allowed them to move with a grace that compliments one another both in bed and when dancing. Sweeping out onto the area that is designated as the dance floor, Oberyn pulls his paramour into his arms and holds her close as he looks towards you and Raeden. If he weren't attracted to both you and the other man, some would say that his bemused smile might seem fatherly as he watches you dance with approval on his face.

“No one can stop us, love,” you whisper quietly, trying to soothe Raeden into relaxing a little in the hold he has on you. Not that you don’t appreciate his strength, but you can tell it comes from nerves. “We could dance until sunup if we liked.”

It's surreal that your mother could not interfere with your dance. Almost as if he is in a dream that is not quite perfection but close enough. His eyes slide over to your husband and he hums. "Unless the prince would not like it." He reminds you.

“He specifically asked you to dance with me.” The music is familiar and wistful, and you turn easily in Raeden’s arms. “There is no reason for him to object.”

"True." He murmurs quietly, pulling you closer and swallowing. "I wish I could kiss you now." He admits, just loud enough for you to hear. "That this was our wedding dance."

“We can pretend,” you murmur back, wishing the same in the depths of your heart. The voice in your mind that reminds you that you are wed – spoken for by a good and clever man – gives you only the smallest measure of guilt. It occurs to you in a wave of confusion that you wish you could have married them both. But that is truly impossible.

"It should be your wedding dance with the prince." He reminds you, not quite as bitter as the comment might have been if he had not experienced how generous the man could be.

“Why can I not dance with both of you?” Well aware of the question that you are not brave enough to ask, this is the best and closest you will probably ever come. And perhaps that is for the best.

"You can." Raeden's hand on your back flexes slightly, the thin material giving him a tantalizing closeness to your flesh that your normal gowns would never permit. "I would never deny you anything you wished, my love."

“You would not feel slighted? Or that I wanted to dance with you any less?” It feels unbelievable that he might actually understand your true meaning, but you have to ask. It feels as if you might burst if you do not.

Raeden pulls back, his dark eyes boring into yours for a long moment, interpreting the question with the same fears and desires that have been plaguing him since meeting both Ellaria and the prince. "Do you want to dance with them?" He is not misspeaking, he is including Ellaria into the question as well on purpose. "I— I would not feel slighted. It does not change my love of dancing with you."

“Do you want to dance with them?” A gasp catches in your throat, shock and that sheen of hope fluttering over you once more.

"Do not ask me that." Raeden begs you, biting his lip and looking across the dance floor. Unable to meet your eyes with the shame of his desires. You would not understand, not really. The things he wants are...unreachable. "You might not accept the answer."

“Do you really think so little of me?” You are not angry, only hurt that you are asking him if he wants the very same thing you want and he thinks that you would deny him. That you would think less of him. The man you love with your deepest heart, and he doubts you. “I would give you anything.”

"I think..." Raeden inhales roughly and meets your eyes. "That we know very little about lust and love." He confesses quietly as the dance comes to an end.

It is not the honesty of his answer that stings, but that he is so correct. That in your excitement and anticipation you had forgotten that there could be a difference at all. It does not matter much now, as you bow to each other in the changing of the music. He is already stepping away from you.

Oberyn appears next to Raeden, his hand on the guard’s back. "Ser Raeden, will you dance with Ellaria while I take the next dance with my wife?" He asks quietly, not sure why you both suddenly look so unhappy.

“As your Grace commands.” Raeden steps away from you fully and bows his head to the prince before moving to Ellaria’s side, leaving you and your husband alone on the vast dance floor.

"I had believed that you would be happy with a dance with your lover." Oberyn reaches for you as the music starts again. Pulling you into his arms and looking over to find Raeden doing the same with Ellaria. "Yet unhappiness clouds your pretty eyes."

“He is keeping something from me and I do not understand why.” Despite the matter of a day being all you have known the prince for, you have found yourself being fully honest with him this afternoon. Something which is more comforting than you might have guessed. “I fear I may have pressed him too far.”

"It is hard for a man to admit weakness to anyone, especially the woman he loves." Oberyn hums quietly, wanting to reassure you. "Especially if it is something that he is afraid of how it would be received."

“There is nothing he could tell me that would make me think less of him.” The prince’s presence is steadying, keeping you upright and grounded even when you feel near tears. “I do not understand what could be so terrible. Unless he intended to step back from me entirely, but even that…it would break my heart but it would not cause me to hate him. He would surely have a reason.”

"Your soulmate's bond with you is not one that is going to suffer." Of that, he can be certain. He moves around the floor with you effortlessly and bends you down when the dance calls for it before he pulls you back up. "I acknowledged unusualness when I was very young, my family did not rebuke me." He murmurs quietly. "No one dares to speak ill of it to my face because of my family name. Your Raeden has not had that luxury."

“There is nothing so unusual that it would make me love him less.” Not fully understanding what is being said, you do still know that for sure.

Oberyn hums, deciding that he will not push the issue, looking over at Ellaria draped over your soulmate and he smiles. She is very attracted to Raeden and the poor man is having a hard time hiding his own attraction to Oberyn's paramour.

“I have said too much and made you uncomfortable as well.” Your eyes drop from his face and you nod solemnly. “Forgive me.”

"You have not made me uncomfortable." He promises, his arms tightening around you. "I am aware you are not fully aware of what I am speaking of, and I hesitate to discuss it with you when it should be your lover."

“My brother says I apologize too much.” You offer, hoping it gives him some insight into who it is he had married. “Though if he knows the reason why, he has never said.”

"Because of your bitch of a mother?" Oberyn hazards a guess, his eyes finding the harpy watching unhappily from her seat in a relatively obscure area.

"Most likely." You blow out a sigh in that unladylike way that would normally get you reprimanded. "She is kinder to my brothers, though. It seems only to be me that she despises."

"Obara's mother was jealous of her." Oberyn hums. "Hated that I wanted her. Wanted to take her away from the hovel that she kept her in. Tried to prevent me from taking my blood, tried to convince me that she wasn't mine."

Grimacing slightly, you shut your eyes briefly and try not to look terribly upset, since there are eyes on you. "My mother has told me more than once that she wishes she had drowned or dashed me at birth. It is not easy to be told such a thing."

"Bitch." He hisses, eyes narrowing in anger at the abuse you had been dealt. "I am glad that she did not get her way." He promises you quietly. "The skies would be a much darker place without stars such as you."

"You are kind." At least, he is to you. And you are more certain than ever that you would never want the prince to be upset with you. You suspect it would hurt your heart if he was.

"No I am not." He shakes his head and chuckles. "I am arrogant, quick tempered and selfish." He knows that he is not the paragon of virtue that you are making him out to be. "I will kill a man if he angers me on the wrong day and think nothing of it."

"And yet?" Your eyes find his ever so tentatively. "It was you who I went to when I needed safety. And you who has comforted me when I was upset. So perhaps you are more than either of us says."

"I am safe." It amuses him to find that to be the case because most would believe that Oberyn Martell is not safe. "I do not hold your heart, so I cannot hurt you."

"You hold my life," you remind him gently. "It is in your power to hurt me in extraordinary ways if you wish. But I do not think you will."

"No, I will not." Oberyn assures you. "You are like the moon in the sky, lovely and unobtainable. Shimmering like a diamond that makes me wish to bask in the soft glow you give off."

It no longer surprises you to know that he occasionally writes poetry, although the new feeling is the wish that he would write some for you. "That sounds very lonely, even as beautiful as you make it out to be."

"The moon hangs closest when the waves lap against the rocky shores near Sunspear." Oberyn reaches up and caresses your cheek. "Making me believe that I could reach up and capture it in my palm, holding it with all the wonder it possesses." Your strength and resolve calls to him. Makes his heart stir like he has not felt in a very long time. Like he had imagined was not possible since he had met his paramour. Yet your eyes on his has his heart quickening.

"Oberyn..." His name is barely a breath when it floats from your lips, wide eyes looking at him with that same sense of wonder that he has described. The claim that does not hold your heart at all might be the most ludicrous thing you have ever heard, but that thought is something you have not tangled with enough to articulate.

"My moon and stars." He hums quietly, watching you with a softness that seems to make everything around the two of you fade to the background. He knows that it might be too much too soon, but he feels it. A connection between you that is impossible to describe beyond meant to be.

"I—" Wishing desperately for another surge of bravery like the one you felt in the garden, the presence of so many eyes on you is the only thing stopping you from kissing him again. Being acutely aware of being thought of as the prince's young or eager bride is not as horrible a thought as it might have been to you once, but you still have no wish to embarrass him.

"It is alright." He promises, seeing the conflicting emotions in your eyes and his fingers trail down your neck until they fall away from your skin. "Nothing needs to be said."

The moment of hesitation has lost you the feeling of his closeness – the feeling of deep intimacy between you – and in that moment you could weep for your own foolishness. But the song is ended and the other couples around you exchange their bows, forcing you to do the same. "It is only that I do not know the words," you insist softly.

"When you decide what they should be, they will come to you." He leans over and kisses your hand gently before straightening as Raeden moves back to your side. "Dance with your lover, star." He urges you gently and reaches for Ellaria when she stands within reach. "The day is still young."

******

A day so young and beautiful that no one present could ever fathom that it would end in blood, tears, and screaming fury as King Joffrey lay dead on the dais and Queen Margaery clung desperately to you in her grief and confusion. The terror of watching Lord Tyrion be carried away in irons, the chaos of the despondent on-lookers, the utter uncertainty of the entire situation have cast a pall over King's Landing by nightfall.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord

TVB: @janelongxox @ischysiaclark @amneris21 @septimaseverinaficrec @ficsbynight @inkededucatednnerdy @spookyxsam @fishingforpike @spishsstuff @theolddemon @heareball @thatrageingbisexual @dinoflower @i-am-amora-the-enchantress @smallestsnarkestgirl @kiki13522 @wheresonichedgehogwnt @br33zy-blizzardz @justpeachyandyou @rhymingtree @sophiedore1700 @benwitcher @secretmoonsalad @emily-12342 @victorian-cherub @princessloveweird @savannaisthebombdiggityyo @darkness-falls-xo @dont-tell-anybody8973 @fishingforpike @julesonrecord @gooddaykate @pedropascalfan221 @trekinthruthestarswars @thgswsnitg @gianlucasnutella @lilwrldbigwlrd @eddie-munsons-mommy @margaridass @monicapennington @im-sylien @we-could-have-been @stinkyfishy @boo8008 @whatthehellisgoingonsblog @rollerblader527 @ace-spades-1 @whydoilovehim @theolddemon @heareball @coldlonelydays @movievillainess721 @catsandgeekyandnerd @imtheonewhothrewthepaper @bucketbunny @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @justgonewild @quinnnfabrgay @s-stark @emilianamason @missmarmaladeth @trimbooksflatlink @thatrageingbisexual @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @mrsparknuts @sillylittlepenguin181818 @stoneredsworld @fatima-marisa

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x f!reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #reader x m!OC #male OC #female reader #male original character #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage #purple wedding

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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ctitan98official · 4 months

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@wife-of-gwendolinechristie : Hey hey! Could you give me an Alcina Dimitrescu with a jealous Y/N??

Yeah! (Might have self-projected here lol) Let’s get into it!

Y/N is a little bit insecure sometimes about their standing as Alcina’s S/O.

It’s perfectly natural, to be honest. This woman is like a goddess.

It doesn’t matter how many times Alcina reassures Y/N, they can’t help but feel a stab in the heart when Alcina pays any person (Except her daughters) the least bit of attention.

Y/N is the type of person to want to overcompensate when they feel jealous.

Oh, you need that super heavy bookcase moved? Let me pick it up with my bear-strength and move it across the room while Alcina watches. Check out this fucking badass scar I got from doing an awesome kickflip on my skateboard. It totally didn’t even hurt! I got right back up and did one even better than the last!

Alcina, bless her, does her part to look impressed and compliment Y/N on their strength and/or abilities… She knows what they’re doing.

It hurts Alcina that she can’t seem to prove to Y/N how much she loves them.

Alcina notices that Y/N becomes a lot less talkative when they are jealous.

Y/N tries to keep unnecessary chatter to a minimum when they feel this way so as not to look foolish in front of Alcina.

Sorry, Alci. No cool fun fact for you to learn from Y/N today.

What Y/N fails to realize is that all of their little quirks are what made Alcina fall for them in the first place.

They brush off her questions about their feelings and state that they are completely fine… Only for Alcina to later find Y/N curled in a corner of a dark room rocking back and forth to ease their anxiety.

Alcina lets out a sad sigh at seeing Y/N so upset. She leans down and opens her arms for a hug.

Y/N does one of two things in this scenario: They either school their emotions and try to play things off, or they run straight into her arms and let her whisper soft words of encouragement to them. There is no in-between.

Y/N is a bit of a handful sometimes, but Alcina wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #y/n is stupid #re8 shitpost #re8 incorrect quotes #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #alcina dimitrescu x reader #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #sorta angsty

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forget-you-morelike-fuck-you · 1 year

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A Taste of the Divine- E.M.

OKAY OKAY OKAY so I based this one off of a song I have been utterly OBSESSED with lately called The Summoning by Sleep Token. You can find it here: https://youtu.be/wJNbtYdr-Hg

I definitely think Modern!Eddie would make this kind of music and you can fight me on that. The other song I have quoted in here is I Have A Problem by Beartooth, which you can find here: https://youtu.be/KTUCGRu_DL4

Masterlist

You go to your first rock show and you get a much different experience than you bargained for.

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, angel, etc.), pnv, protected sex (wrap it up, babes), dom!Eddie, degredation kink, praise kink, slight corruption kink if you squint, drinking, cursing (lmk if I missed anything!)

Pairings- Modern!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Word Count- 6,335

(Pic and gif not mine, credit to owner!)

There’s just something about him.

Past the intimidating exterior of black leather, studded belts, and cigarette smoke is someone whose sole mission in his life is to worship every inch of skin on your body.

You never meant to end up with someone like Eddie. You never even heard his name before your friend laid a poster down in front of you at your weekly lunch date, squealing as she told you about the show. You looked at the paper, detailing the time and place of a band you had never heard of, and honestly didn’t really have any interest in learning about. You were never one for rock music, instead favoring the sound of smooth indie and pop. But your best friend was so keen on going. Her boyfriend is in the band, but all of the friends she had that liked the kind of music they played weren’t available, so she was begging you to accompany her.

“Pleaaase, Y/N! I’ll do anything you want! It’s just their first headlining show and I don’t want to be in the crowd alone!” She pleads, giving you those best friend puppy dog eyes. After careful consideration and a lot of bargaining, you finally relent, resolving that she would buy your drinks all night.

“Corroded Coffin, huh? Sounds like pretty heavy stuff,” You eye her with uncertainty. “I really don’t think this is gonna be my scene,” Your best friend rolls your eyes at you, wagging her finger at you.

“No take-backs! You already said you’d come! And you don’t have to like them, I just really want you to be there with me to support Gareth! You know how big a deal this is to him! I’ve never asked you to come to a show with me before, and I swear, if you absolutely hate them, I’ll never ask you to go again! I promise,” She sticks her lip out in a fake pout as an attempt to further suck you in to her plans.

“Okay, okay, fine! Just this once, because I love you!” She does a happy dance in her seat across from you, giggling like a madwoman.

“Okay, great! Oh, Y/N it’s gonna be so much fun! And you definitely have to wear something hot. You can borrow some of my fishnets! We’re all hanging out after and the lead singer, Eddie, he’s so fucking fine. If I didn’t love Gareth so much, I would totally be on that.” The face she makes as she speaks makes you laugh, which helps you feel better about going.

“Alright, fine,” You roll your eyes, chuckling at her giddiness. “But this Eddie guy better be, like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

“I really don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” She promises with surety.

When you get to the venue, it’s packed wall to wall with people in black, decorated with studs and leather. The smell of alcohol and sweat was heavy in the air, and you take it in as your best friend keeps a very firm grip on your hand as she drags you toward the front, near the stage. She pushes past people with authority, and when people give her dirty looks, she just exclaims “MY BOYFRIEND IS IN THE BAND!” This makes you laugh, because more often than not, the people just move out of her way. People respect that sort of thing around here, you guess.

As you near the rail, your friend flags down one of the security people hovering near the stage, and your friend introduces you to him by name. “Carlos! This is my best friend, Y/N. I’m gonna go get us some drinks, so can you just make sure no one’s creepy to her? She’s never been to one of these shows before.” Carlos, a nearly middle aged gentleman who stands at least 6 feet tall and looks like he could wrestle for WWE, nods.

“I got you hon, no one gets past these eyes,” Your best friend pats him casually on the shoulder with a smile.

“I know I can count on you, buddy.” With that, she starts making her way toward the bar, pushing past people like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You look over to Carlos, not wanting to just stand there awkwardly.

“So,” You begin, shouting slightly over the din of all the other concertgoers, “Do people get pretty rowdy at these shows?” Carlos makes a face and shrugs.

“It really just depends on the crowd. I’ve had to knock a few assholes out in my time, but generally no one gets too rough with the people who don’t want it. Just try not to get sucked into the mosh pit. That’ll do some damage if you’re not careful.” You nod solemnly at his sage advice, clinging a bit closer to the rail for safety.

“And what if I do get sucked in?” Carlos raises an eyebrow as he mulls it over.

“Don’t be afraid to push your way out. They can get pretty nasty, but usually it’s just a bunch of people dancing like maniacs,”

As your friend returns, holding the drinks above her head, Carlos takes a step back toward the stage. “Here you go! Tequila Sunrise for you,” She hands you the clear plastic cup, careful not to bump someone and spill it, “Vodka Cran for me,” She holds her cup out to yours, and you tap them together before taking a big drink.

“Is it gonna start soon?” You ask.

She nods, “Yeah! I saw Gareth and the guys walking through the back door. Should be any minute now.” You keep talking and drinking and laughing for a few more minutes until the lights start moving across the stage, and everyone starts screaming as the band comes out from behind the curtain.

“Whoa,” You mutter, eyes going wide as you spot him. Eddie Munson is wearing nothing but a tight pair of black jeans and a leather vest, his arms and torso covered in intricate tattoos. His hair is a wild mess of dark curls, and he wears a serious expression. There’s a glint of silver around his ears as you spot a rows of earrings going up to his cartilage, and a little hoop in his right nostril. His broad hands are littered in heavy silver rings and necklaces drip from his neck to swing at his mostly bare chest. You feel your best friend nudge you, and you look to her as she gestures up toward Eddie.

“Disappointed?” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully.

“No, no I don’t think I am...” You give a bark of a laugh.

“I knew you wouldn’t be! Wait until you hear him sing!” You make a face of bemusement before turning your attention back to the stage, where Eddie has started shredding on his red and black crackle-painted Warlock guitar. Everyone goes crazy, including your best friend, as Eddie’s voice comes screaming through the music.

“I found my vice, I found my vice. It lives in a bottle and wants me to die! I found my vice, I found my vice. It lives in a bottle and wants me to die! But I wanna be alive.... Go!”

The sound is overwhelming, and it sends your eyelids flying open wide as you listen. You’ve never heard anything like this. You can’t tell if you like it, but you’re definitely impressed by the lung capacity Eddie surely has to be able to perform like this as often as he does. He doesn’t even start to sing until he gets to the refrain, and the suddenly smooth sound of his voice sends a shock through your body like you’ve never felt before. He grips the mic stand with both hands, eyes closed as the guitar swings by his hip.

“I guess a bottle can’t save my life, I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind... This is my reward, a barely beating heart? But I still lie to myself, I always lie to myself. My hands are in the air, and God, I hope you’re there! Cause I can’t make it myself, I’ll never make it myself...” You’re stunned as he switches back and forth from screaming and singing so easily, and you find yourself start to move your body to the beat of the music, a smile growing slowly on your face. Your best friend is jumping up and down next to you and then the whole venue starts screaming with Eddie, “SUBSTANCE THERAPY NEVER SET ME FREE,”

By the time the song ends, you’re dancing with your best friend. Although you’d definitely prefer your music taste to this, you can’t deny the intoxicating rush this music sends through your bones.

When the next song starts, the mood in the room shifts a bit, and you can see why. Eddie’s body language changes from angry to seductive, his hands caressing the microphone like it’s a long lost lover. A stark comparison to the death grip he held on it during the last song. You watch as he pushes the hair out of his face, a soft synth echoing through the room before the guitar starts. Then Eddie begins to sing, his lashes low on his eyes, his tongue darting to lick his lips. “I’ve got a river running right into you. I’ve got a blood trail, red in the blue. Something you say or something you do, a taste of the divine... You’ve got my body, flesh and bone, yeah. The sky above the earth below...”

He runs a hand up his toned torso, gripping lightly at his throat as he lets his eyes scan the crowd and you stand, mesmerized by the way he moves. When his eyes meet yours, you almost gasp at the intensity of his gaze. He holds it for just a moment before he flits his eyes away, probably to some other beautiful person he sees among this sea of people. Still, you can’t tear your eyes away from his performance.

There are a couple minutes in the middle of the song where Eddie has a guitar solo, and it almost looks like he’s making love to the guitar in his hands as he walks around the stage with it. He comes to the edge, just a few feet from where you stand, front and center with your best friend, falling to his knees and throwing his head back, his plush lips open in a silent moan as glistening beads of sweat trail down his forehead and chest. It makes heat flood through you, and you watch his nimble fingers as they move across the strings like lightning. You wonder what else he can do with those fingers...

As he gets back to his feet, his eyes open and land on yours again. The look on his face as his eyes bore into yours makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room for a moment, and then he’s gone, sauntering back to the microphone, the guitar dropping out as gentle synth intermixed with piano float over the room again. He takes his time taking his guitar off his neck, grabbing the mic stand and dragging it with him as he walks, back toward where you stand. Your best friend starts shaking your shoulder and you rip your eyes away from the delicious sight.

“This is the best part!” She yells excitedly. “You’re about to get soaked, so get ready!” She squeals and turns back, gripping the rail, whooping in excitement.

When Eddie stops, he lets his face fall forward, his bangs brushing over his eyes as his lips hover right over the microphone. The drums kick back in and he raises one hand over his head, ripping the mic out of the stand as the song drops into half time. “Oh, and my love, did I mistake you for a sign from God? Or are you really here to cut me off? Or maybe just to turn me on...” He drops down to kneel on one knee, one hand still holding onto the mic stand as he taps his fingers on the mic with the other, keeping time. He’s so close you can almost hear his rings clink against the metal. “Cause, these days I would be lyin’ if I told you that I didn’t wish that I could be your man. Or, maybe make a good girl bad...” His eyes graze over you once more, and you watch as they rake up and down your body, sending a shiver through your spine. Then, he gets up, mic in one hand, stand in the other and walks back to where he was before to finish the song. All of the air is sucked out of the room for a moment as the final chord dissolves in the stale air before the room erupts like a million firecrackers.

You have to take a deep breath to keep your cool. There’s never been music that made you feel exactly this way before. But then again, you’ve never been eye fucked by an insanely gorgeous metal singer as such dirty, beautiful words spill from his perfect lips before.

The rest of the night goes on like this, and as you indulge in a few more drinks, you loosen up even more, letting your body flood itself with the sheer vibrations of the music around you. It’s like you’re waking up in a brand new world filled with raw emotion, no matter what kind. “We’ve been Corroded Coffin! Thank you!” Eddie screams as the lights come up, and the whole place, including you, is chanting as they exit the stage, all high fives and smiles in the euphoric haze of a good show well done.

“Come on!” Your best friend has to pull your shoulder to get your attention, the rush of adrenaline written all over her face as she starts pulling you through the crowd. You make it to the edge of the rail and a security guard lets you through, knowing that you’re with the band, and you find the back door to backstage to go through. You run up the steps with her, laughing as you finally find some semblance of quiet behind the closed door. Your ears are ringing, adjusting back to the lack of chest rattling music as you go find the band. “Baby!” Your best friend runs to Gareth, and he lifts her off the ground, spinning her as they embrace. “You did so good out there! You guys were so amazing! I swear to God a record deal is coming any day now.” She then turns to you, “This is my best friend, Y/N, she’s never been to a rock show before, but I think we’ve won her over,” She explains. “I can tell you liked it! Don’t even deny it!”

You laugh, smiling sheepishly as the band looks at you expectantly. You give a nod, “Yeah, that was... A rush.” You turn to Eddie, who smiles coolly as he takes a drink of water. “I’ve never in my life heard a voice like yours. It was incredible.”

“You see, Eddie! I told you she’d like you!” Your best friend interjects. You shoot a glare over to her accusatorily, and she shrugs, a smug smile on her face as she holds Gareth close. You feel a heat rush to your cheeks as you turn back to Eddie, who’s still looking at you.

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His voice doesn’t even show a hint of strain as he speaks, which is mind-blowing considering all of the screaming he did on stage. You follow awkwardly behind the band as they make their way to a sitting room of sorts, complete with a TV and a few couches. You sit near your best friend and Gareth, who share a plush armchair, but making conversation with them is no use, they’re too wrapped up in each other, kissing and talking to each other in hushed tones about the show and how much they love each other. While it’s a cute sight, it feels as though she’s stranded you on a desert island with a bunch of strangers, one of them being the scorching hot singer sitting next to you on the couch.

You smooth your impossibly short skirt as you sit, trying to keep yourself from saying something stupid. “So,” You hear from beside you. You look up and Eddie is laying back against the corner of the couch, legs spread. You can see now the faint smudge of black eyeliner on his eyes, and it only makes the dark chocolate of his irises look that much more tantalizing. “You not really a rock person?”

You scoff, quirking your head to the side a bit, “No, not really. Well, I never have been before anyway. I’ve never really enjoyed the screaming.” He nods, his brows raising in recognition.

“Yeah, it’s not for everyone, I suppose. But you liked it tonight?” He raises his brows hopefully. You bite your lip lightly, eyes flitting up, remembering the feeling as the intense sound washed over you.

“Yeah, I did. I have to say, I think you may have completely converted me.” You both laugh lightly at that. “Can I ask, how do you do that? It’s the most baffling thing I have ever seen!” Eddie’s smile widens a bit, and he makes a sound like he’s trying to find the words.

“It’s a lot of practice. There’s some technical bullshit you need to understand to fully grasp it, but essentially, it’s all about breathing and the way my mouth is shaped,” He shrugs, letting out a short laugh, “That’s a pretty shitty way to put it, now that I think about it, but it’s fine.” You breathe a laugh and nod in understanding.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. Not like I do a lot of screaming myself, anyway,” Eddie smiles out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes looking you up and down.

“Really? That’s a shame...” He takes a gulp from his water bottle, and you feel heat rush over your whole body. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt again as you try to think of something else to say.

“Y’know, that second song you did... The girl you wrote that about sounds pretty lucky to have you to come home to.” You look at him through your lashes, gauging his reaction. You watch him clench his razor sharp jaw, his hand running over his thigh lightly as he adjusts himself to look at you better.

“There isn’t one,” Your brow raises in feigned curiosity and bat your lashes at him sweetly.

“Oh? Then who’s that one written about?” You lean toward him ever so slightly. His eyes rake over you once more, and he leans in toward you, his mouth hovering just over your ear.

“Could be you, if you play your cards right...” A jolt of lightning streaks right through the center of your body, and you feel your heart thump loudly in your throat. Damn, he’s smooth. You try to clear your throat and recover your control, but Eddie sees right through you. It’s a game of sexy chicken, and he’s winning.

“And what makes you think that I’d want that?” Your voice isn’t as stable as you wish it was and you inwardly curse yourself as Eddie gives you a playful, boyish smile.

“I saw the way you were looking at me out there. And I think you saw the way I was looking at you, too.” He leans his arm against the back of the couch, laying his head on his hand. “Y’know, you don’t fool me, Y/N.” The way he says your name sends a shiver up your spine and wonder how he’d say it from between your thighs... “I can tell that beneath that bohemian, hippie girl façade, there’s a wild little girl just begging to be let out of her cage. All I’m saying is that I could be the key to her freedom, if you want.”

He’s done it now. You bite your lip, a heat rushing over your face, all the way up to the tops of your ears, and you have to fight to keep your breath calm. You get up, letting skirt ride up just a touch so he can get a good look at the garters running down the backs of your thighs before holding your hand out to him. “Wanna give me a tour?” You ask innocently, but your eyes are wandering over him, fantasizing what he’ll look like once he’s on top of you. You see Eddie’s cool exterior crack for just a fraction of a second before he takes his time reaching for your hand. His feels massive in yours, his fingertips rough with callouses. The rings he wears make cold indents in your skin.

“Right this way,” Eddie starts walking, his hand tightly holding yours. You shoot your best friend a quick look over your shoulder, and her eyes are bulging out of her head as she watches you walk away. She sends you a quick thumbs up before getting back to her conversation, a silent “Good luck!” as you walk towards a darkened hallway.

“Where are we going?” You ask, your eyes scanning the dim hallway covered in posters and sharpied graffiti.

“Right here,” Eddie opens a door to the right of him, and pulls you in. The room isn’t very large, but there’s a vanity sprinkled with a few pieces of jewelry and makeup items, and worn couch. Eddie closes the door behind you, and you hear a lock click as you look back at him. “So,” The tone on his lips is warm and sultry, and you inhale sharply as you feel his fingers barely graze your bare sides, the bustier top you wear coming only to just under your breasts. “This is my dressing room...” His lips hover right at your ear, and your lashes flutter when you feel the slight tickle of his lips just grazing the skin there.

“It’s- it’s nice,” You’re losing your resolve, the slight wobble in your voice is giving away your rather compromised position.

“Why, thank you,” You can hear the amusement in his voice as his lips travel down, not even touching, just teasing you with the hope of contact. His hands, however, grip at your hips a little more now, pulling you closer to him. A mad rush of heat spreads down your thighs as you feel the bulge of his cock starting to form in his jeans. “I’ll tell you how this is gonna work,” He mutters. “I’m gonna ask you what you want, and you’re gonna tell me. I don’t like playing guessing games. Do you understand?”

You’ve never been spoken to this way before, but damn, is it sure erotic. Borderline pornographic, really. You nod, barely finding your voice as you say, “I understand.”

“Good.” His lips brush over your shoulder now, and with all of the anticipation it almost makes you go weak in the knees. “Now, can you tell me what you want first?” Your eyes flutter closed, and you move your head out of the way of his lips.

“K-kiss me?” You breathe. Eddie chuckles darkly behind you as he presses a firm but gentle kiss to your shoulder, moving the strap of your top out of the way as he blazes a path up your neck, taking his time to find the spots that make you hiss in pleasure.

“Like this?” He taunts. You nod lightly, your brain growing fuzzier with every sensation. He suddenly turns you around, spinning you by the hips. One of his hands presses into your back as the other grabs your chin, pulling your lips to his in a wanton display. His tongue darts into your mouth and you taste the faint menthol of what was probably a cough drop to soothe his vocal cords. The moan that escapes you is swallowed by Eddies mouth as he moves you backward, your legs hitting the couch. He lets you go as you sink down, and you move yourself so that your legs are spread apart to accommodate for him while you lay back. Your hands find his chest as he comes to lay with you, one hand finding your face, the other supporting him on the arm of the couch as he kisses you again. His lips move lazily down your neck again, sucking soft bruises occasionally, and you let out a soft whine, not wanting to be heard by the band members outside. Your body arches up into his, craving the feeling of his body against yours.

“Do you want something, sweetheart?” He presses chaste kisses just below your ear, nipping lightly.

“I want... Fuck... I want your fingers... Please,” Your eyes screw shut, and you feel his lips meander back up your face, capturing your mouth in another hot kiss, Eddie’s thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

“I think that can be arranged...” The hand on your face starts moving down, over your collarbones, the curve of your breast, giving a squeeze there, down and down until you feel his large, rough palm against your heat. You grind into his hand pathetically, the scant fabric over your clothed pussy doing very little to hide the mess you’ve made. Eddie lets out a little laugh as he plays with you, and you can’t help but whimper at every touch. “Not so tough now, are you baby?” He presses kisses to your jaw, letting his tongue swipe along the skin. “You just wanna be a good girl, don’t you?” You almost want to protest, but it seems impossible as his fingers pull your panties out of the way and dip into your sopping pussy. He pulls his fingers up your slit, and you gasp harshly as he flicks over your clit, the callouses on his fingers creating a new sensation that that of your own.

Eddie rubs slow circles round your bud, and your hands find his back, nails digging in as you get further lost in the pleasure. “I want...” You pant as Eddie’s mouth travels down to the tops of your breasts. “I want your fingers inside.” Eddie hums against your chest in acknowledgement, fingers moving down to toy with your aching hole, dipping gently in with two fingers. You push yourself further onto him as he curls up, and you tighten your grip on his body as he moans gently at the feeling of your velvet walls wrapping around him.

“Goddamn. This pussy’s gonna make me cum quick, isn’t it. So fucking tight. You suck me right in, pretty girl.” He purrs. He pumps in and out of you at a decent pace, letting you reach your peak on your own time. You’re sure he’s done this so many times he must have it down to a science. Your moans get needier as the seconds pass, your release approaching in near record time. Eddie can tell. It’s like he can read your mind, or at least, your body, like an open book. “You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna be a good girl and soak my fingers?” The encouragement only spurs you on as you get closer, closer until finally, your walls flutter, and Eddie kisses you to swallow the sounds of your release. He groans as he continues fingering you, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit as your legs shake from the intense climax. You pant hard as you find your way back to your body, and Eddie pulls his fingers out, his lips still on yours. He pulls away as he brings his hand to his face, and he stares intently into your eyes as he sucks his fingers clean. You almost whine just at the sight of him, brain completely melted out of your skull, replaced only with the carnal need for him to fuck you, good and deep. “Next time, I hope you ask for my mouth,” He muses, “I need to get a proper taste of that sweet pussy.”

“Next time?” You breathe. He gives you a smirk.

“If you want,” he says. “But now, I’m hoping you tell me you want my cock inside you.” You let out a girlish laugh at that, hands reaching for his pants before you feel his hand cover yours. “Ah, ah, ah... Words first, angel.” He commands. You look at him through your lashes, hips moving up so your pussy grinds lightly against the knee positioned between yours. You see a subtle flutter of his lashes as he waits for your reply.

“Please, Eddie,” You press kisses to his jaw, sucking deliciously. “Will you stuff my cunt with your cock?” He lets out a groan, his hips driving down into yours.

“Good girl,” He rasps, and he lets you continue your task of undoing his heavy belt. You can see the strain of his cock against his pants, and you can’t help but paw at it, your mouth watering at the mere thought of him filling you up. He reaches around to his back pocket to pull out a condom, and unceremoniously rips the foil open with his teeth while you pull his pants down, spitting the ripped piece in his teeth away. You pull out his cock, stroking the long, thick length of it a few times, collecting glistening droplets of precum on your thumb before sticking it in your mouth, relishing in the taste. Eddie watches you rub the pad of your finger down the length of your tongue, a devilish smile breaking out on his face as he rolls the condom down his length. He leans back down, necklaces tickling your chest. “I knew there was a bad girl in there somewhere,” He hisses as his cockhead comes in contact with your entrance. You can’t say anything, moaning as he pushes into you harshly. “You like the taste of me, don’t you?”

You nod pathetically as he grabs your legs, pulling you into a better position for him to snap his hips into yours. Every thrust punctuated with a heavy breath. All you can do is try to hold on to any surface, teeth clenched to keep you quiet as you writhe beneath Eddie’s command. The pace he sets is borderline bruising, both of you struggling to keep your breath as your bodies meet. Eddie hooks your legs behind his back, one hand going to grip the meat of your waist to hold you steady as the other starts playing with your clit, making your goal of keeping quiet enough to keep everyone outside from hearing that much more impossible. “God, you feel so fucking good,” Eddie throws his head back in a low moan, eyes screwing shut as he continues pounding into you. “I can fucking feel the end of you. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” His eyes open back up and settle on your face, contorted in this piece of bliss he’s giving you. The hand on your clit reaches up to your face, the finger coated in your slick pushing into your mouth. You accept it greedily, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue.

“God, so fucking good for me. You look so pretty like this. So fucking pretty.” His cand comes back down to rub your sensitive bud again. You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, your breath coming in short pants. You squeeze your legs around Eddie’s middle, needing him to be even closer.

“I’m- gonna- cum- Eddie...” You stare into his eyes like they’re art, and bite your lip as the tension in your core approaches a precipice. You shut your eyes, letting the feeling take over as you lose yourself.

“That’s it. That’s it... Fuck, Y/N, I can fucking feel you...” He lets out a divine whimper as your walls pulse around his cock, his hand tightening around your waist, but he doesn’t let up, not for a moment. “Gonna... Gonna fucking fill you up, pretty girl.” You whine as you feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you, and then his hips stutter, a deep moan tumbling from his lips as he cums. He fucks into you a few more times, slowing down, the fingers on your cunt rubbing languidly now. Finally, he stills, and you’re both just staring at each other, breaths heavy, pupils blown in the euphoria of the mind-blowing sex you just had.

Finally, you let out a light laugh, your hand going to wipe a few stray hairs from your forehead. “That was...” You close your eyes and lay your head back against the seat of the couch. “That was fucking amazing.” Eddie gently pulls out of you, and you wince as he helps you set your legs back down, the muscle ache already seeping into your thighs.

“Yeah,” he says. His lips form a Chesire cat smile, a few beads of sweat falling from his hairline. “I think that I would agree,” His bangs are stuck to his skin, and even though you’ve just had some of the best sex of your life, you can’t help but already want more. You start to sit up a bit as Eddie moves off of the couch to throw the condom away, and he grabs a small towel to hand to you before getting one for himself.

“So,” He looks to you as he puts his softening cock back in his pants, pulling his belt back through the buckle. “About next time...?” You ask. He lets out a small laugh as he throws your towel into the corner of the room.

“What about it?” He has a coy smile on his face, eyebrows raising slightly.

“Will there really be one? Or was that just dirty talk?”

He considers this for a moment, looking you up and down as you smooth your skirt back into place before nodding. “Yeah, there’ll be a next time. How about you give me your number, and I’ll take you out to dinner sometime?” Your brows flick up in surprise, not thinking he would offer a date.

“Do you offer that to all of the girls you fuck after shows or just me?” You’re almost genuinely curious. Eddie shakes his head, his lips downturned slightly.

“No, just you. I don’t really make a habit of this, if I’m being honest,” He confesses. You’re genuinely shocked by that. Not only is he insanely talented both on stage and in bed, he’s also one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever had the privilege of laying your eyes on.

“What’s so different about me, then?” Now you are really curious. Eddie shrugs.

“Well, Y/BFF/N has been talking you up ever since she told us all about you, so that helped. And Gareth seems to think you’re a pretty decent person...” He looks at you pointedly, “But what really sealed the deal was the look on your face from the stage. It was one of the best reactions to me that I think I've ever seen. You came here tonight, not thinking you’d really have a good time, and then you just let yourself get lost in it. It was... intriguing. More than that, really. It was kind of magical.” You cast your eyes downward, a blush creeping onto your face as you smile sweetly.

“Oh,” You breathe, feeling prettier than you have in a long time. Eddie offers you a hand, and you take it as he helps you to your feet, not letting go as he opens the door for you. You start walking toward the doorway, but he stops you, pulling you back to him and walking you backward until your back hits the cool metal door. His free hand finds your face, pushing the hair away before leaning down to kiss you, deep and slow.

“How about Friday night? I’ll pick you up at 7,” He suggests as he pulls away, forehead resting on yours. You nod, heart thumping in your throat.

“Yeah... It’s a date.” You open your eyes to see that beautiful boyish smile again, and he kisses you once more, just a gentle peck on the lips.

“Okay, then,” And with that, he leads you back out to the living room. You blush wildly as people take notice, a couple of them whooping as you and Eddie sit back down on the couch, except now, he doesn’t let you sit at the other end, like before. He pulls you close, having your head rest against his shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the couch.

The rest of the night is spent talking and laughing with the band, Eddie deflecting every playful jab that comes your way about the activities in the back room. And when it comes time to leave, he kisses you again sweetly before you part ways. “I’ll see you Friday,” He promises.

“Friday, yeah,” Your best friend starts tugging at your arm, but you don’t look away from him until you have to, giving a small wave as you start your way out of the venue.

“Soooo,” Your best friend asks, wiggling her eyebrows at you as you make your way to the parking lot. “You reaaaally liked it then?” You laugh, hitting her on the arm playfully. But still, you nod, remembering the feelings, the sounds, the sensations.

“Yeah, I really, really did.” You beam at her widely as she gives a whoop in excitement. You get into her car to go home, closing the door as you find your seat. As you buckle in your seatbelt, you hear your phone ding, and so you look to see a new number texting you, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you open the message.

“Can’t stop thinking about you. Mind if we move our date up to tomorrow?” Your breath hitches in your throat as you type out your reply.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

227 notes · View notes

egcdeath · 2 years

Text

sunday kind of love

request: I'm still so so so in love with jake lockely, and wanted to request something with him and his girl being domestic af, like going to the night market together to get stuff for a late dinner, him not letting her get an uber because he's the best, dancing with her in the kitchen while it cooks 🥺 you're so good at writing intimacy it kills me honestly (in a good way)

pairing: jake lockley x reader

summary: a glimpse into the best and most domestic day of the week for jake and the reader.

word count: 5.1k

warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF!! you will need to see your dentist after this, domesticity, playful nagging, a lot of references to food idk why, dialogue heavy towards the end, really really soft, not beta read

author's note: i want to preface this by saying that jake is ooc. to be fair we’ve seen like 3 minutes of him in canon, but he is just a big old teddy bear softie in this fic who loves his gf more than anything. this fic involves the same couple from love in bloom. i wrote it with them being together for at least a few years in mind, but it’s really up to interpretation, and you definitely don’t have to read that before you read this fic! i hope you enjoy.

Saturdays used to be your favorite day of the week; that was, until you fell into your Sunday routine with Jake.

You woke up to the rhythmic snoring of the sleeping man beside you, the familiar vibrations from his chest rattling through your own body, fueling your reluctance as you slowly and quietly slipped out of bed, attempting to escape the heavy arm laid across your own chest. Despite the knowledge that he often slept like a rock, you made sure to avoid your one creaky floorboard as you escaped your bedroom.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you evaluated the ingredients you’d picked up from the farmer’s market just a day prior before turning on a playlist of some of yours and Jake’s favorite music.

It was almost alarming how easily you’d fallen into a familiar rhythm with the man—beginning with routine visits to the market on the weekend, to second, third, and countless other dates, then escalating into spending more time at each other’s places together, and collaborating on little things together when you couldn’t be together, like watching the most recent season of Acapulco Shore while sending texts with commentary to each other, or adding a song you thought he might like to your shared playlist. Falling for Jake, and loving him, was easy—something you frequently thought about, like now, as you evaluated your pantry and fridge for something nice for your partner to wake up to.

You eventually settled on dressing up some avocado toast on Jake’s favorite artisanal sourdough, and got right to work with washing and cutting produce, along with arranging the avocado in a manner that was simply unnecessary—although, as you’d learned, it was the little details that Jake appreciated. Singing under your breath along to a song that Jake had added to the playlist, you found yourself focused and lost in making a clean green spiral of avocado slices.

“Morning,” Jake said raspily, voice low and groggy from sleep. He casually snaked his arms around your hips as he approached you, setting his head on your shoulder, giving you the tiniest start. You couldn’t deny that one of your favorite parts of spending the weekend with Jake lied in how you kicked off the morning. The back hug and cheek kiss was now a classic move, one you always looked forward to while you stood alone in your kitchen, despite the tiny scare it always seemed to give you.

“‘m glad you finally decided to wake up,” you teased, setting down the butter knife in your hand that you’d been using to design your own toast, and reaching up to gently scratch the stubble on the cheek next to yours.

“It’s hard for me to get my beauty sleep without my girl,” he shot back, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. You fought (and lost) a smile as his stubble gently rubbed against your face, a familiar comfort that seemed to make your heart leap no matter how many times you felt it.

“I dunno, you still look pretty beautiful to me,” you shrugged, reaching back down to the cutting board to grab a washed strawberry by its stem before holding it up to Jake’s mouth for him to bite while you held your free hand under his chin in order to catch any mess. “Open.”

Jake gladly took your strawberry offering and practically purred. “Delicious. But not as sweet as you, cariño.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, watching Jake with nothing short of hearts in your eyes as he shuffled away from you and made somewhat of a beeline to your Keurig. You paid him no mind as you moved over to your stovetop to work on cooking eggs to go on top of your toast. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’d sleep better if you didn’t leave me,” he sighed dramatically, grabbing two mugs and coffee pods as the machine gurgled at him in a frankly uncouth manner.

“I was gone for like, ten minutes tops. You’re just clingy,” you teased right back, setting a lid on top of the popping skillet.

“Can you blame me for wanting to spend every second of the day con mi corazón?” Jake questioned, walking to your fridge and grabbing your respective creamers. “You’d be complaining too if one of your major organs got up and left you alone in the middle of the night.”

You scoffed playfully, “It was nine in the morning! I’m tired of this honeymoon phase. Will you ever stop being lovesick?” you whined, setting your hands on your hips as Jake took a detour to snatch yet another strawberry off the cutting board on his way back to your now fully functioning coffee machine.

“Unfortunately no. Doc says it’s chronic. I may never recover,” he sighed, adding the creamer and sugar to your piping hot drink in just the way he knew you liked it. “And Doc told me that the only temporary cure is for you to stay in bed with me all night.”

“That’s too bad,” you feigned disappointment, sliding the now over-easy egg onto Jake’s overdressed toast. “I guess I’ll sacrifice the possibility of ever bringing you breakfast in bed. Those are just the kinds of things you do when you love someone.”

You made quick work of putting finishing touches on the slice before grabbing your plates and heading over to the table.

“Eh, I’ll live,” he shrugged, setting your mug in front of you, then leaning down for a quick kiss that you gladly returned. “Everything looks amazing. You’re amazing.”

You shook your head fondly, “sit down and eat before I make you take me to the dentist for being so sweet.”

—

There was never a dull moment between the two of you, which was why something as simple as doing the dishes had somehow managed to become a ‘moment.’

It all began when Jake insisted that he do the dishes, as he often did, followed by you protesting (as you often did); something about you being a good host and him being a good guest. Either way, it ended with you at the sink, and Jake on drying duty standing in a comfortable silence as your joint playlist flipped through some of your favorite songs.

Eventually, one slow song in particular popped onto your speaker, eliciting a soft gasp from the both of you— one that said ‘This is our song!’ without really having to say anything at all.

All at once, the fork in your hand fell into the basin of the sink, and Jake set the partially dried mug onto your countertop. You gave each other a certain look, and Jake reached out an expecting hand, one that you gladly took.

He pulled you close to him and hummed softly along to the words as he wrapped his arms around your waist once more and softly swayed you along to the music.

You draped your arms around his neck and wordlessly grinned up at the man who seemed just as happy as you to be dancing along to the song that had grown to have so much meaning to the two of you.

Catching you off guard, Jake lifted an arm, encouraging you to do a little twirl in the tight space of your apartment dance floor, and twirl you did, returning to him with a giggle as his ever passionate eyes locked on yours, as if you were the only person in the entire world.

You held on tight to Jake once more, heart (and body) practically melting as he sang the last few lines of the song to you, maintaining that intense, yet adoring eye contact before he leaned down once more to give you a soft, tender kiss.

Jake stepped on your foot a few times, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t catch your own on his, but standing in your kitchen, swaying along to your song, there was no place on Earth that you’d rather be.

—

There were only so many times that you could playfully tell one another that you didn’t smell the best until you finally had to do something about it, so it was no surprise when you and Jake ended up in the shower together, somewhere between comfortably and uncomfortably cramped between the tile of the wall and the flimsy curtain.

Showering together had become yet another staple in your Sunday routine—something about saving energy and money on a water bill, or maximizing your time together. In reality, you knew there was nothing Jake looked forward to more than the intimacy of something as simple as a joint shower… and the promise of a thorough scalp massage just happened to be a bonus.

You lathered up your hands in your favorite lavender body wash and gently massaged the suds into Jake’s back, smiling to yourself when he unconsciously let out the sigh and tension that his body had been holding onto.

“When are you gonna let me take you out to get a real massage?” you asked, running your hands up to his slowly untenseing shoulders.

“Never. You do a good enough job,” you could practically hear the bliss in his voice as you both cleaned and kneaded his back.

“While I appreciate the flattery, I promise you that once a professional gives you one, you’ll never go back,” you lightly ran your nails down his back before passing off the body wash for him to take care of the rest of himself while you worked on shampooing his hair.

“You’re perfectly adequate enough for me,” he countered as you rubbed the product into his scalp. “And if you keep that up, I’m going to fall asleep.”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to fall asleep before you lather me up. Those are the shower rules,” you paused from your scalp massaging to peek around Jake’s torso, and didn’t miss the slightly too relaxed expression on his face. “I’m serious, Jake. I’ll make the water freezing cold right now if I must.”

“Fine, fine. Turn around,” he ordered, voice slightly more alert from the new threat of a cold shower. You gladly followed his direction, pleasantly humming to yourself as Jake rubbed soothing suds onto your body.

“Stop, you know I’m ticklish there!” you laughed, attempting to slap away your partner’s hand as he unnecessarily emphasized rubbing on your neck. Jake’s laughter joined with yours, the sound of your shared giggling filling up the room. “You have one more strike, Jake Lockley,” you threatened emptily.

“Yeah? Or what?”

“Or you’ll be showering alone for the rest of your life,” you snapped back, suddenly reaching for the sides of his torso, eliciting a mixture of Spanish curses and laughter as you tickled him back in his most vulnerable spot.

“Okay, okay, I get it, we’re even now,” he wheezed out, grabbing your hands to stop you. “I don’t even know if I want to shower with you anymore.”

“I don’t believe that coming from the biggest shower sap in the entire universe,” you looked up at him expectantly, using your joined hands to wipe out some of the water in your eyes. “You come here every weekend practically begging for a shower and massage.”

“Fine, you got me there.” Jake conceded. “It’s time for you to rinse, though. I’m starting to prune up.”

You nodded in agreement before awkwardly shuffling around so you could rinse yourself off at a somewhat better angle, and you cringed at the heat. “I’ll never understand why you need it so hot. Are you trying to boil us to death?”

“Hey, I just like my showers hot,” he defended. “But I guess dying with you is my ideal way to go.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to lightly hit his chest. “You are something else.”

—

“One day we’re gonna move into a place with two sinks,” you mumbled against the toothbrush in your mouth. “I can’t go much longer like this,” you glanced up at Jake in the mirror, fighting laughter as you peered at his foamy mouth and ridiculous appearance with just his waist wrapped in a towel.

“Why? You don’t like being close like this?” Jake asked, gently bumping his hip against yours and smirking at you through the mirror.

“Something like that,” you muttered back, spitting out the remaining toothpaste and reaching across your countertop to grab a roll of floss.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Jake asked after a beat as he watched you quietly floss your teeth.

You shrugged cavalierly, but the heat practically radiating off of you betrayed your true feelings on the matter, and it certainly didn’t help that Jake was standing so close to you. The truth of the matter was that you would love to move with him, maybe go upstate and have a pet and a garden, and eventually even children—but for now you were just enjoying your Sunday with the man you loved in a bathroom that was far too cramped to comfortably brush, let alone floss your teeth—and that was plenty for you.

Besides, Jake knew what you really wanted regardless of what you did or didn’t say.

—

Rain lightly pelted against the living room windows, a soft soundtrack of serenity that contrasted awfully well with the overdramatic reality show playing out on the television while Jake laid against your chest, half-lidded eyes falling closed every now and then as you ran your fingers through his curls and occasionally scratched his scalp.

“This is just ridiculous,” you murmured, glancing down at Jake as you aimed your commentary toward him. “Can you believe they’re doing all of this for fucking Flavor Flav?”

Jake grunted out a sound of agreement, not really processing anything you’d just said as he was clearly much more interested in being spooned and having his hair played with than the trashy television playing in front of you.

“Having a good time?” you asked with a cheeky grin, obviously picking up on his distraction.

“With you? Always,” he hummed. “I’m not having a good time with Pumpkin, though. She needs to leave New York alone.”

“Right?!” you laughed. “You just get it. I’m glad I have you to indulge me in my shitty shows.”

“I feel like you’re indulging me. These have always been a guilty pleasure of mine,” he confessed.

“Really?” you asked with raised brows. “I never would have guessed. Really! I’m not being sarcastic or anything.”

“I guess our terrible television taste makes us the perfect pair,” he suggested.

“Yeah, just our television taste,” you retorted, amusement ever present in your voice.

—-

While your local grocery store was no farmers market, it was nice to grab a few pantry staples for the week at a much more understandable price. It also just so happened that you had an extra pair of hands and an Uber driver to assist you during your weekly trip.

You happily strolled through aisles, tossing whatever looked right into the basket that Jake was faithfully following you around with through the store.

“You’re doing a great job sticking to your list,” Jake teased as you checked off pasta from your list after tossing various other grains that were not exactly pasta into your basket.

“Thank you,” you gave him a tight smile. “Y’know, it didn’t always used to be like this.”

“Really? Tell me more,” you gave the back of the cart a little tug to let him know that you were on the move once more.

“Alright, once upon a time, long, long ago, only one person lived in my home for all seven days a week—me,” you continued to guide him to a checkout lane. “But then, one day, a man, a very handsome and lovable one, ended up essentially moving in for two of those seven days. And my pantry could no longer keep up with those two mouths. Especially when the handsome dork thinks that finding a bunch of ingredients and cooking together is the ideal date.”

“Is it not?” Jake asked, setting one of the fully checked out and packed bags into your cart. “I understand now. I’ll never question you ever again.”

“Stop,” you laughed, grabbing the next bag from the cashier. “You don’t have to stop questioning me, you just have to stop judging me.”

“I’m never judging you! Just making observations.”

“You’ve done enough damage today. There’s no coming back from the things you’ve said in the walls of this store.”

—

Sundays were a day of domestic chores, which meant laundry, and ever since Jake started staying with you more often— a lot of it.

You were fortunate enough to have your own washer and dryer in a practically microscopic closet next to your kitchen, meaning that you had a more than ideal view of Jake working on your next meal as you fidgeted with the settings on your washing machine.

You attempted not to pay him too much mind as you moved one load of clothes into the dryer, but the very obvious scent of burning herbs was too much to ignore.

“What’cha doin’ Jake?” you questioned, wandering over to him as he peered into the oven.

He looked back at you and gave you a guilty half-smile, eyes shifting back to the mystery item in the oven. “Just admiring the view.”

“The oven view?” you asked, already slipping on a mit and maneuvering yourself in front of the appliance.

“The you view, pretty girl,” he attempted, knowing that neither of you were buying his words.

“Mhm. You’re a cute liar,” you laughed, opening the oven and coughing as a mixture of steam and the stench of a burnt item hit your nose.

—

“Come run another errand with me,” you asked as you finished folding up the last of your laundry. Jake peeked out from the closet and raised a curious brow at you.

“What’re we doing?” he questioned, hooking one last piece of clothing onto the valet rod before flopping onto his back atop your bed.

“It’s a surprise,” you sat down on your knees next to him and leaned over his face.

“I’m scared,” he countered, the dopey, lovesick smile on his face not matching his comment at all.

“Trust me,” you reached down and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze. “It’ll be fun. It’s just a surprise. You trust me, right?”

“I do, but when you keep bringing up trust it makes me not want to trust you,” he laughed.

“Fine. Don’t trust me. Just trust that you’re gonna have a good time.”

“Hey! I never said I don’t trust you! I would trust you with my life, and even more.”

“I’m convinced you really will never grow out of being a lovesick sap,” you teased, pushing down that warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach in favor of nuzzling his nose.

—

“I love when you drive my car,” Jake commented as you parked in a spot of the mystery location.

You really didn’t drive too often, only when you had a secret date you’d planned that you didn’t want to have spoiled by Google Maps. Other than that, Jake practically insisted on being your chauffeur, even when it came to mundane tasks, like a trip to the hair salon on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Stop being sarcastic,” you scolded, your tone not matching the silly smile you shot Jake.

“I’m not! It’s very endearing,” he countered, grabbing his wallet from the center console. “So what is this mystery errand?”

“We’re at a night market! They have a bunch of vendors selling neat things they made, and a ton of street food, since lunch was kinda a flop.”

“So it’s like the farmer’s market?”

“Yeah, but at night. So it’s different.”

“Sounds different and fun,” he concurred. “What are the odds we’ll need an umbrella at this market?”

“Slim to none, since it stopped raining hours ago. But we will be outside.”

“It stopped raining hours ago, but the sky looks ominous as hell right now.”

“It’s only like that because it’s late. And because of pollution.”

“Mhm, sure.”

“I’ll bet you that it doesn’t rain.”

“And what do I get when I win this bet?”

“Prizes are to be determined. But don’t hold your breath. There will be no rain.”

“I’m sure,” Jake nodded as he reached into his backseat to grab an umbrella. “Just in case.”

“You won’t need it, but okay. Come on,” you popped out of the car, hurried around the front, and opened Jake’s door for him as well. “M’lady.”

“Keeping chivalry alive as always,” he mused as he slipped out of the car.

Jake slipped his hand into yours and you gladly wove your fingers together—a comforting and familiar motion that seemed to warm you up from the inside out— before you led him into the entrance of the market.

It started with one droplet hitting your cheek as you stood in line to pick up bao that was allegedly the best in town, then another, and suddenly it was as if all hell broke loose from the heavens above. You both glanced up at the sky in a synchronized act, then back down at each other.

In one quick moment, Jake had popped open the umbrella and held it over both of your heads before too much rain had the opportunity to drench the two of you.

“Start thinking of what I’ll get for winning our little bet,” he goaded, shifting the umbrella slightly further over to you to ensure that you wouldn’t get too wet.

“It seems like you’re already having enough fun with bragging rights that you really don’t need a reward,” you shot back, moving in closer to him to attempt to avoid getting too wet, as it turned out that the umbrella was not quite big enough for two people.

“I’ll gladly take your permission to bring this up at every opportunity I get,” Jake continued on, perking up when your names were called with food. “Why don’t you go find us seating and I’ll grab our food? You can take the umbrella.”

You nodded, taking the umbrella and briefly basking in only being a little wet before hurrying off to find a seating area with some kind of roof.

After searching a good amount, you stumbled upon a little tent with only a few people scattered about, sitting at various different tables. It wasn’t too long before Jake showed up in the tent, lifting up one of the little paper trays as if he were waving at you with it. You could’ve sworn that man had a sixth sense for where you were located, but you weren’t particularly mad about it.

Your partner walked up to you, pretty much drenched from the less than pleasant weather. He sighed out something that seemed like relief as he sat down next to you, passed you your similarly damp food and wasted no time getting straight to business.

“This is really good,” Jake commented between ravenous bites. “Here, try mine,” he held up his bao to you and you took a bite, humming pleasantly at its flavor.

“Okay, okay, try mine,” you held one of yours up to his face, and didn’t miss that his eyes lit up after taking a little bite. “Wanna swap?”

He gave you a smile that said a thousand words, and you gladly switched the paper trays in front of you. “You know me so well,” Jake hummed, extremely content as he finished off your order.

As you sat, the cold wind and a stray drizzle of rain continued to batter you, despite you being under the overhead safety of a tent. You couldn’t help but shiver as you and Jake played Words with Friends, attempting to wait out the rain.

“Are you cold?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your hip and pulling you closer to his side in an attempt to share some of his warmth.

Jake’s observance was both a blessing and a curse. Sure, you were shivering a little, but it really wasn’t that bad. And since you were showing any sign of discomfort, you had a feeling you knew the direction of this conversation.

“I’m okay,” you dismissed.

“No,” he countered stubbornly, already shrugging off the shoulders of his jacket in preparation of draping it around you.

“Jake,” you whined.

“No, really. I was overheating. You feel the heat radiating off of me, right? Why not share some of the heat with my girl?”

There was no other protest you could make, as Jake was already slipping his surprisingly warm jacket around you.

A few rounds of your game and facetious arguments later, the rain still hadn’t cleared up. You were usually quite patient, but the thought of getting out of your wet clothes and laying in your warm bed was far too exciting of a prospect to stay under the shelter for one minute longer than you needed to.

“Think we should just brave it?” Jake asked as if he could read your mind.

“Please. I was literally about to ask you the same thing,” you both were already getting out from your seats as you spoke.

“What’s our plan here? Duck and run?” Jake asked, already popping the umbrella back up.

“I think so. And my honest opinion is that the umbrella is only going to slow us down. We need to raw it.”

“Ew,” he cringed at your word choice, and began to fold the umbrella back down. “But you’re right about it slowing us down. Okay, let’s go.”

You two looked at each other and took a dramatic deep breath before grabbing one another’s hand and rushing out from under the tent.

You had an idea of just how ridiculous the two of you must’ve looked, holding hands and running in the rain as an umbrella dangled off of your wrist, but you would be lying if you didn’t admit just how fun it was.

It was surprisingly easy to find your vehicle, but before you could slip into the passenger side, Jake grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into a rather dramatic and surprisingly passionate kiss.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he gasped breathlessly, winded from both running and kissing you so intensely.

“Rom-com kiss? I think we can both cross that off of our bucket lists,” you giggled, pecking his lips once more before getting into the car.

“That was fun. We should do it again sometime,” Jake chimed as he sat down next to you, immediately blasting the heat in the car.

“I think we have different definitions of fun,” you panted.

—-

It was a miracle that Jake had managed to stay over so long, usually opting to leave your apartment sometime in the evening with a gentle kiss and a promise to be back the following weekend. But not tonight. Following a second shower together—the result of getting so damp at the night market—Jake followed you to bed and laid on his side as he watched you get a book out and try to relax your mind enough to fall asleep.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t love when he decided to stay over an extra night, or that you didn’t love when he got into one of his ‘lost puppy dog’ moods where all he wanted to do was follow you around and be close to you. Hence, why you didn’t comment on him laying his head on your stomach while you attempted to read, despite the action distracting you every time you noticed the heap of wet curls sticking out from the top of your book.

“Would you marry me someday?” he asked out of the blue, looking up at you from where his head was resting on your stomach.

You would be taken aback, but it wasn’t the first time one of you pulled out a future card after a long day of domestic bliss.

“What do you think?” you asked, setting your book down on your bedside table.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you,” the earnest look on his face telling you that he genuinely was curious—if not a little concerned—about what your answer would be.

“We’re practically a married couple already,” you slipped your hands down to cup his face. “Some of my friends think we’ve been engaged for months. I’ve received texts asking why they haven’t been invited to the ceremony.”

You both chuckle at that, Jake’s sounding slightly more nervous than your own. You rubbed at his forehead gently with your thumb, as if you could wipe away his worry lines.

“Please don’t look so anxious. I will marry you someday. Hell, if you proposed to me right now, I would find a minister online and marry you in this bed at this very moment. How else are we gonna have two and a half kids, a few cats and dogs, and a garden full of meaningful flowers in our suburban upstate home?”

“We could be lifelong partners…?”

“Shh,” you cooed before beckoning him closer to you. “C’mere.”

Jake readjusted himself so he could properly spoon you, giving you a second to hit your bedside lamp before wrapping his arms and body around you.

“That wasn’t you proposing to me, was it?” you asked, your hands finding his as you cuddled.

“No! No. I just wanted to gauge how you feel about me.”

“You really think I would say no to marrying you?”

“Possibly.”

“Jake!”

“I just come with a lot of baggage, you know? Seeing each other is one thing, but marriage?”

You rolled over a bit awkwardly so you could properly face the man. “I would spend the rest of my life with you if you had three eyes, a tail, and were the owner of the baggage factory. We all have our things. I don’t love you any less because of it.”

Jake sighed, and you weren’t quite sure whether it was a sigh of relief or surrender.

“It’s true. Really. You need to worry less about whether or not I’d say yes, and worry more about how you’re gonna propose. I love you, but asking to get married while I’m trying to read before bed isn’t gonna cut it. I might end up thinking it’s a dream.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe even add it to my proposal notebook.”

“You have a notebook on how you’re gonna propose to me?”

“Maybe…” he drew the word out.

“You are so…” you broke out into laughter. “I don’t even know. I just adore you.”

“Would it be redundant to say that I adore you?”

“Maybe a little bit. But I wanna hear it anyway.”

“I adore you. I truly love you to the moon and back,” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Mm, music to my ears,” you yawned sleepily. “I love you too. Sweet dreams.”

“With you? Always.”

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockely x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight

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