#you are more than welcome to declare the other one as you if you want

[muiitoloko]

I looooved the daddy severus fanfic aaaaghhhh ❤️ but now can we have what he needed to do to have the baby lol

Breeding kink severus PLEASE!!! Xx

Title: A Second Chance

Summary: Surviving the war was only the beginning for Severus Snape. With your love, he learns to embrace life, finding comfort in the thought of a future that includes a family of his own.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: I'm so glad you loved the Daddy Severus fanfic! ❤️ And I couldn't resist your request, so I went ahead with the breeding kink idea—but decided to keep it light and wrote a completely new one-shot instead. Don't worry, it's more on the sweet side, nothing too kinky 😅. Hope you enjoy this one just as much! xx

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never imagined he would survive the war, let alone find himself married years after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. In truth, he hadn't even expected to live past the moment Nagini's fangs had torn into his throat. The pain had been excruciating, but it was fleeting—quickly overtaken by the cold, creeping numbness of death. He had welcomed it, that final escape from a life filled with darkness and deceit. Everything had gone black, and he thought that was the end.

But death had not come for Severus Snape that day. Instead, he had awoken to the sterile smell of potions and the clinical brightness of the Hogwarts infirmary, with Madam Pomfrey's stern face hovering above him, muttering incantations and administering salves to his ravaged neck. She had told him that the war was over, that Voldemort was defeated, and in those first few moments of lucidity, Snape had wanted nothing more than to slip back into unconsciousness. He had nothing left to live for, after all. But fate, as it often did, had other plans.

Snape had been in a coma for two long years—two years during which the wizarding world had moved on without him, during which he had been declared a hero by none other than Harry Potter, the boy he had once loathed. Potter, in his infinite idiocy, had come forward with memories—his memories—evidence that Snape had been working as a double agent, risking everything to protect the son of the woman he had loved more than life itself. It was Potter’s testimony that had spared Snape from Azkaban, and it was Potter who had ensured that he was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, and hailed as a hero in the aftermath of the war.

Snape thought bitterly of that fool of a boy now, sitting in the grand sitting room of one of the Prince family’s old mansions. The house had been passed down to him as the last living heir of the Prince family, a lineage he had long since stopped caring about. His mother’s bloodline had never brought him anything but misery, and yet here he was, a reluctant beneficiary of the wealth and status he had once despised. He rubbed the large scar on his neck, the mark left by Nagini’s fangs a constant reminder of how close he had come to death. It barely allowed him to speak without pain, a daily torment that was only mitigated by the potions and treatments he had to endure.

And that was where you came in.

You had been sent by St. Mungo’s on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, assigned to take care of Snape’s throat, which often swelled and caused him intense pain at random times. The venom of Nagini had remained in his bloodstream, a sinister reminder of the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. Snape hadn’t wanted you there. In those first few days, he had made every effort to drive you away, using every tactic at his disposal—scathing remarks, icy glares, and, when words failed him, the sheer force of his silent, menacing presence. But you hadn’t been intimidated. You had insisted on staying, refusing to leave despite his best efforts to scare you off. You were patient, determined, and unfailingly kind—qualities that Snape found both infuriating and, inexplicably, disarming.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things began to change between the two of you. Perhaps it was the day he had tried to intimidate you with a particularly venomous glare, only to find that you met his gaze with calm resolve, refusing to back down. He had pressed you against the wall in a fit of frustration, intending to finally break through that maddening composure, but instead, he had found himself kissing you—fiercely, desperately, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. That kiss had quickly turned into something more—something that left you both breathless and shaken, your bodies entwined in a feverish, almost primal need.

Months had passed since that first heated encounter, and somehow, through a series of events that still seemed surreal to him, Snape had found himself married to you. He looked down at the simple, yet elegant ring on his finger, a symbol of a life he had never imagined for himself. The ring was one he had chosen himself, purchased with the money he had saved over the years as a professor—years of putting up with those insufferable, brainless children. The irony of it all was not lost on him. Severus Snape, the cold, unyielding Potions Master, now had a wife, a home, and a life that was, in many ways, far more normal than he had ever thought possible.

He had thought he would hate it—the domesticity, the mundanity of it all. But as he sat in the quiet of the old manor, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, he realized that he didn’t hate it. Not at all. In fact, he found a strange sort of peace in it—a peace he hadn’t known in decades, if ever. It was a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, he had somehow found a place in this world—a place with you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see you entering the room, a soft smile on your face as you made your way over to him. You were dressed simply, yet elegantly, your presence filling the room with a warmth that he still wasn’t quite used to, but which he had come to cherish nonetheless.

“Severus,” you greeted him, your voice soft and soothing as you approached. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged slightly, the familiar discomfort in his throat a dull throb that he had long since learned to ignore. “As well as can be expected,” he replied, his voice low and rough, a result of the lingering effects of the venom.

You nodded, your expression one of understanding and quiet concern as you reached out to gently touch his hand, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of his wedding ring. “I’m glad,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his chest tighten. “You know, you don’t have to bear this burden alone. I’m here, Severus. I’ll always be here.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the weight of your words sinking in, filling the empty spaces in his heart that he had long thought would remain void. He had spent so many years alone, so many years building walls around himself to keep others out, that it still felt strange—unnatural, even—to have someone who cared about him, who wanted to share in his burdens.

But you were here, in his life, in his home, and he had somehow, against all odds, found himself falling for you in a way he hadn’t believed was possible. You had been a light in the darkness, a beacon that had guided him back to the land of the living when all he had wanted was to fade into oblivion.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at your hand in his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else could. “And I’m… grateful.”

You smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that lit up your entire face, and for a moment, Snape felt something stir within him—something that had been dormant for far too long. It was a warmth, a flicker of hope, of love, that he had thought he would never feel again.

Without another word, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with all the affection and tenderness that you had brought into his life. Snape closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation, to savor the moment, the connection between you.

When you finally pulled back, you looked at him with a quiet intensity, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to understand the depth of what he was feeling. And in that moment, Snape realized that you did understand—that you knew him better than anyone ever had, perhaps even better than he knew himself.

“I love you, Sev,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “I always will.”

But Severus Snape had never been one for grand declarations, especially when it came to matters of the heart. The words I love you felt foreign on his tongue, weighed down by the years of pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. Instead, he preferred to convey his feelings through subtle gestures, through actions that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight, he intended to show you just how much you meant to him.

Without a word, Snape leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss, one that was slow and deliberate, full of a restrained passion that he had kept buried for far too long. His lips moved against yours with a careful intensity, as if he was savoring every moment, every sensation. His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, his long, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer to him.

You responded eagerly, your body leaning into his as the kiss grew more heated, more urgent. Snape’s other hand found its way to your waist, his grip firm but gentle as he guided you onto his lap, your dress rustling softly as you straddled him. The fabric of his dark robes brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body.

When he finally broke the kiss, his breathing was slightly uneven, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that you had rarely seen before. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat, his gaze piercing through you as if he was trying to convey all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Without breaking eye contact, Snape’s hands moved to the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the soft fabric as he slowly pushed it up, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs. He let out a low, almost inaudible groan as he felt the warmth of your body against his, the sight of you on his lap stirring something primal within him.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper as he traced the outline of your hips with his hands, his touch possessive yet reverent. It wasn’t quite I love you, but it carried the same weight, the same depth of emotion. It was his way of claiming you, of letting you know that you belonged to him in every sense of the word.

You shivered at his touch, your own hands moving to his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric of his robes. His grip on you tightened slightly as he pulled you even closer, pressing your body against his as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a clear indication of just how much he wanted you.

“Severus…” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of anticipation and desire as you felt his lips ghosting over your throat, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses in their wake.

Snape didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his hands slipping beneath your dress, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine before moving lower, cupping your ass and giving it a possessive squeeze. His lips found their way back to yours, capturing them in another deep, fervent kiss as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that his cock was perfectly aligned with your entrance, the heat of your arousal palpable through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Snape’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes boring into yours as he uttered a single, hoarse word: “Bedroom.” The command was rough, almost strangled, a reminder of the ever-present pain that laced his throat. You could see the discomfort etched into the lines of his face, a sharp pang of concern shooting through you. Was he okay? Was the pain too much for him? But before you could voice your worries, Snape dismissed them with a hard, determined look. He wasn’t going to let anything interrupt this moment.

In a swift, fluid motion, he lifted you into his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as you clung to him. His strength surprised you, the lean muscles beneath his robes belying the quiet power he possessed. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, straining through the fabric of his impeccably tailored trousers. The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a fire in your belly.

He moved with purpose, carrying you down the dimly lit hallway of the old manor, his long robes billowing around him like shadows. The silence between you was thick, charged with the unspoken desires that had been building between you for months. Snape’s grip on you was firm, possessive, his hands settling on the curve of your ass as he held you close. The tension in the air was palpable, the only sounds were the soft rustle of fabric and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

When he finally reached the bedroom, Snape pushed the door open with a gentle nudge of his foot, striding inside without hesitation. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. The bed—a grand, four-poster affair draped in rich, dark fabrics—stood at the center of the room, an inviting haven amidst the darkness.

Without breaking his stride, Snape crossed the room and laid you down on the bed, his movements careful but deliberate. The mattress dipped under your weight as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. He stood at the edge of the bed, his tall, lean figure imposing and commanding, his dark robes making him look every bit the cold, enigmatic man you had first met. But now, there was something more in his eyes—a burning need, a primal desire that he could no longer suppress.

Snape’s hands moved to the clasp of his robes, his fingers deftly undoing it before he shrugged off the heavy fabric, letting it pool on the floor at his feet. He remained silent, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to unbutton his shirt, each movement slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The pale, angular planes of his chest were revealed inch by inch, the faint scars and the dark trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers only adding to his rugged appeal.

Your mouth went dry as you watched him, your pulse quickening with each piece of clothing he shed. By the time he reached the waistband of his trousers, you were practically trembling with anticipation, your body aching with the need to feel him against you.

Snape didn’t rush. Instead, he paused, his fingers lingering on the waistband of his trousers as he looked down at you, his gaze dark and hungry. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, roughened by both his desire and the ever-present pain in his throat.

“I’m going to fill you,” he rasped, the words sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. His expression was one of pure, unbridled lust, his eyes locked on yours as he added, “I’m going to put a baby inside you.”

The raw, primal promise in his words left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as heat pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness gathering there, your body responding to his words in a way that was utterly instinctive. Snape’s eyes flickered with satisfaction as he noticed your reaction, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your ankle, pulling you toward the edge of the bed with a firm, steady grip. You let out a soft gasp as your back arched, your dress riding up higher, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. Snape’s hand slid up your calf, his touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through you as he pushed your dress up, revealing the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice hoarse but commanding, a dark edge to his tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed without hesitation, your hands trembling slightly as you reached down to slip the dress over your head. The fabric pooled on the floor beside the bed, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Snape’s gaze raked over your body, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, the word almost lost in the roughness of his voice. His hand moved to your hip, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear before slipping beneath the fabric. The feel of his hand against your bare skin sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breath hitching as he caressed you with slow, deliberate strokes.

You moaned softly as his fingers found your wetness, your body arching into his touch. Snape’s gaze was fixed on yours, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. He moved his fingers with a practiced precision, teasing you with light, feathering touches that left you gasping for more.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as you looked up at him. “Yes, Severus, please.”

Snape’s smirk widened at your desperate plea, his hand leaving your core to grip your thigh, spreading your legs wider. He moved between them, his trousers slipping down to reveal his throbbing erection, the sight of it making your mouth water with desire.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against your wet folds as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. The sensation was electric, his lips moving against yours with a fierce, possessive hunger that left you dizzy. You could feel the tension coiling within him, the barely restrained need that pulsed through every inch of his body.

With a low growl, Snape pushed inside you, the thick length of him stretching you to the brink as he buried himself to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it as he filled you completely. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the raw power in the way he moved.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, his thrusts deep and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Snape’s gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on yours as he claimed you with every thrust, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive strength that left you breathless.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he drove into you with a primal, almost savage need. “Mine to fuck, mine to fill…mine to breed.”

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through you, your body tightening around him as you let out a low, breathy moan. Snape’s hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you against him with each thrust, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the intensity of the moment.

You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Snape’s name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he drove you closer to the edge.

Snape's breath was ragged as he buried himself inside you, his trousers bunched up around his ankles, trapped by the boots he hadn't bothered to remove. It didn’t matter to him—nothing mattered now except the primal, driving need to fill you, to claim you in the most profound and intimate way. His dark, greasy hair clung to his forehead as he hovered above you, his pale, angular face set in a mask of intense concentration and desire.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, each movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge, to ensure that every inch of him was felt within you. His normally stoic expression was marred only slightly by the flicker of pain that crossed his features when he dared to speak. The venomous scars on his neck, the constant reminder of his near brush with death, flared in protest with every word. But his voice—deep, roughened by the damage to his throat—slipped out when he could no longer contain the twisted fantasies that had consumed him.

“Mine,” he rasped, the single word filled with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place as he thrust into you again, harder this time, his need taking over. “You’re mine.”

The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding, the soft crackling of the fire the only other noise breaking the silence. His boots scraped against the floor as he shifted, driving into you with a relentless pace that left no room for doubt about his intentions. The weight of his body pinned you beneath him, the full force of his need pressing down on you.

His mind was filled with images—visions of you swollen with his child, your body heavy with the life he’d put inside you. The thought only spurred him on, fueling the dark hunger that had taken root within him. He could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye—a little girl, with your beauty and his cunning, a powerful witch who would carry on the legacy he had never thought he would pass on.

“You’ll give me a daughter,” he whispered hoarsely, the words a struggle, each one tinged with the pain it caused him to speak. But he had to say it, had to let you know the depths of his desire. His fingers dug into your skin as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You’ll carry her, and she’ll be perfect…just like you.”

The idea of breeding you, of seeing you swollen with his child, made him almost desperate in his movements. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal precision that left you gasping, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to hold onto something as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

His breathing was labored, the strain of holding back the pain of speaking clear in the way his chest heaved, but he couldn’t stop now. His fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as he watched the effect it had on you, the way your body responded to him, the way you trembled beneath him. It was intoxicating, knowing that he had this power over you, that he could bring you to the brink of ecstasy with just a few well-placed touches.

“You’re going to be so beautiful,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “Round and full…carrying my child. My daughter.” His eyes were locked on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering as he thrust into you with a newfound urgency. “I’ll protect you…both of you…no one will ever hurt you.”

His words were rough, almost growled out between clenched teeth as the fire within him built to a fever pitch. He was close, so close, and he could feel you tightening around him, the telltale signs of your impending climax pushing him even further.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding despite the strain. “I want to feel you…want to feel you fall apart around me.”

You were helpless to resist him, your body obeying his every command as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Your climax hit you hard, your entire body tensing as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Snape watched you, his gaze dark and intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with a final, powerful thrust.

He could feel you convulsing around him, the tight, wet heat of your climax pulling him over the edge with you. He let out a low, guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside you, his release flooding you with a heat that seemed to burn through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the faint rustle of the sheets as Snape remained still above you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of catching his breath. His dark hair fell forward, obscuring his face as he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips rough and warm against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered one final time, his voice barely more than a breath. “And you’ll give me everything.”

His words hung in the air, a promise, a vow, as he slowly pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness almost jarring after the intensity of what had just passed between you. He laid down beside you, pulling you close to his chest, his long fingers tangling in your hair as he held you tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

In the silence that followed, Snape closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. But even as sleep began to take him, the thought of you carrying his child—his daughter—brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to his lips.

For the first time in years, Severus Snape allowed himself to hope for the future.

After the intensity of your shared moment had begun to settle, you found yourself recovering faster than Severus, whose chest still heaved as he fought to catch his breath. His dark eyes were closed, his pale face flushed with the remnants of passion, and his hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. For a brief moment, you simply watched him, your heart swelling with a deep, unspoken affection. It was in these quiet moments, after the storm of his desire had passed, that you felt closest to him—that you saw the man behind the formidable exterior, vulnerable and human.

You moved gently, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the scarred skin of his neck, your lips lingering just above the spot where Nagini's fangs had once pierced him. His eyes fluttered open at the sensation, and he looked down at you with a mixture of exhaustion and something that might have been tenderness, though he would never admit it aloud. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he might protest your ministrations, but you silenced him with a look, your eyes conveying a wordless command.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, your voice soft yet firm as you began to reach down, your hands deftly unfastening the boots that had remained stubbornly on his feet. Snape tried to protest, his brows knitting together in irritation at the thought of you taking care of him, but the protest died on his lips when you fixed him with a pointed stare.

“Be quiet, Severus,” you instructed gently, though there was no mistaking the steel behind your words. “Let me do this.”

For once, he complied, his lips pressing into a thin line as he allowed you to help him. It was an act of trust, a rare thing for him, and you didn’t take it lightly. You removed his boots with care, followed by the trousers that had bunched awkwardly around his ankles, your fingers brushing against his skin as you worked. Despite the lingering heat between you, your touch was tender, almost reverent, as you undressed him, revealing the lean, angular planes of his body that were usually hidden beneath his dark, forbidding robes.

When you were finished, you summoned your wand with a simple flick of your wrist, casting a quiet cleaning charm over the two of you. The warm, tingling sensation of the magic swept away the remnants of your passion, leaving you both feeling refreshed, though the intimate connection between you remained unbroken.

You returned to his side, snuggling against him with a contented sigh, your head resting on his chest as you traced lazy patterns on his skin with your fingertips. Snape’s arm wrapped around you almost instinctively, his long fingers threading through your hair as he held you close. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, a soothing rhythm that calmed your own.

Lifting your head slightly, you rested your chin on his chest, your eyes meeting his with a mischievous glint. “At this rate, we’ll have a baby soon,” you remarked with a teasing smile, your tone light despite the weight of your words. “You’ve practically made love to me every day since I mentioned you’d be a great father.”

A faint flush colored Snape’s cheeks, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you couldn’t be sure. His gaze flickered with a mix of emotions—desire, uncertainty, and something deeper, something almost fragile. You knew that the idea of fatherhood had taken root in his mind, had sparked a longing that he hadn’t fully realized until you had voiced it aloud.

“It… seems to have stuck in my head,” he admitted gruffly, his voice low and rough as he avoided your gaze, his fingers still gently tangled in your hair. “The idea of… breeding you, of putting babies inside you… it… it turns me on to no end.”

There was a vulnerability in his admission, a raw honesty that was rare for him, and it made your heart ache with affection for the man who had always kept his true self hidden beneath layers of cold detachment. You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing lightly over the scar on his neck as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Severus,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “And I’d be honored to carry your child… our child.”

Snape’s breath hitched at your words, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to find the truth in them. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. “You… would?”

You nodded, your smile widening as you rested your forehead against his, your heart swelling with love for the man who had once believed himself incapable of it. “Of course. There’s no one else I’d want to share this with… no one else I’d trust with this.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of Snape’s lips, and he let out a shaky breath as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive tenderness that spoke volumes. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope—not just for the future, but for a future with you, a future where he could be the man, the husband, and the father he had never believed he could be.

As you lay together in the quiet of the old manor, the fire in the hearth casting a warm glow over your entwined bodies, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, you had found each other. And as Snape’s hand drifted to rest on your abdomen, his fingers splayed over your skin in a gesture that was both protective and tender, you knew that the love you shared would be enough to carry you through whatever came next.

[smoozie]

Grian and Scar are both loyal to an extent. They don't let their loyalty consume them nor overstay it's welcome. But they have different ideas of when loyalty ends

Grian is not a traitor. It's odd to see him depicted as one when the only precedent in canon is his rendezvous with Bigb. In 3rd Life, Grian explicitly declares his loyalty as to Scar and Scar alone. His alliances with others are tenous. He goes all in one and lets other arrangements fall to the wayside. He wasn't ever loyal to them though, they were a means to an end.

Scar has a bad case of "friend to all is a friend to none" which we will see again and again. Scar is by no means a friend to all in 3rd Life, but he still puts his brief friendship with Bdubs above his weeks long dedication to Grian. And this choice is so interesting because he clearly betrays Grian because he is on yellow not red. (I mean yes the no kill pass, but that likely would have never come into play had Grian been red). However, he expects Grian's anger when he returns. Or it seems that way because he immediately surrenders himself. So what was the point? He gets Grian down to red, only to kill Bdubs and hand him the victory. Not to mention he waits for Grian to return before he moves against Bdubs. His loyalty to Grian most definitely surpasses his brief alliances in 3rd Life (he literally tells Grian he can kill him for "keeping [him] alive this long"). But Scar is not so loyal as to consider himself above killing an ally. Scar plays a very dangerous game of balance with his alliances, he wants everyone to be allied with him despite the improbability of such an arrangement.

In last life, people seem to have a different interpretation of Grian's actions (particularly pertaining to his loyalty), than I do. I don't think Grian is betraying anyone when he kills Jimmy and Mumbo. Last Life requires all non-red alliances be severed once a party reaches red. Grian takes this very seriously, only "faltering" once when he tries to preserve his allyship with Mumbo. But even then he's trying to kill him, so I'd hardly count it. Grian removes himself from the southlands when he goes red, and on red he remains loyal to Joel. He rejoins the southlands when he returns to yellow and is back again to Joel when they're both reds. He is consistent in his loyalty and as I've said, doesn't let loyalty overstay its welcome. He knows when to let go, and he does so.

Keeping in mind I haven't watched Scar's Last Life in a hot minute, this is from memory and a recent rewatch of Joel's. Scar makes an unfortunate alliance with Joel at the beginning of the season, unfortunate because of the fleeting nature of their alliance. Scar proves again he is more than willing to set loyalty aside to do what needs to be done when he attempts to murder Joel as the boogeyman. Upon finding out Joel is also a boogeyman, he instead later tries to help Joel as he embarrassingly fails to kill anyone over and over. Even avenging Joel by killing Mumbo for his boogey-kill. When Joel is on red continously placing traps around their mountain for Scar, Scar chooses to take little offense to it. He knows he would have done the same. Scar does what needs to be done. He is a survivor first and foremost

Double life is interesting because it shows a break in Grian's loyalty habits. He doesn't stay loyal to a faction he declares at the beginning nor does his loyalty follow the games rules. Grian "cheating" on Scar feels out of character. It almost seems like an act of revenge for Scar's betrayal in 3rd Life. An overdue comeuppance. Which is a fun interpretation I like. You could also see it as an act of defiance against the watchers, to say "no I am not playing by ur rules anymore. You cannot choose my allies for me". Whatever floats ur boat. I get people who downplay the "affair" as not the serious because they just call each other secret soulmates and send presents, but I think that interpretation misses the most important part: how it is presented to us. Grian and Scar both portray the secret soulmate bit as akin to cheating, so it makes the most sense the audience interprets it as such.

Double Life Scar is often misinterpreted to be happier with Grian than he actually is. In the beginning, Scar doesn't care to find his soulmate. He doesn't even realize it's Grian until the end of the episode. First thing Scar does the next episode, is try to introduce Grian to his Jellie-pandas. Which are immediately rejected by Grian. Scar then decides he will torture Grian with pain as payback, which he also teaches to Pearl. (A really great parallel imo because had Scar been tied to Scott I think he would have also been rejected). Interestingly, both Grian and Scar understand loyalty as a necessity to survival, especially in this particular game, as such they stay together despite BOTH being displeased with each other.

Grian stays firm with the bad boys until their early deaths. Despite his button pressing habits and that one fight they had over falling off ladders, he doesn't betray them. But he doesn't let grief consume him. That's the way of the game. His allies die, he needs safety. He moves on. And he once again proves his secondary allies (not nosey neighbors as they are now his primaries) mean little to him when he kills Scar. Again. And calls it the ultimate betrayal Grian when I fucking catch you

The clockers actually seem to be the perfect alliance for Scar. Bdubs who he can betray a million times over and always be forgiven, and Cleo who has still not forgiven Bigb for his choice to kill her two seasons ago. Scar has no reason to betray these two and never does, but he does believe Bdubs will betray them.

Grian in Secret Life is interesting because it is the first time we see him struggle to get an alliance. He kinda just shows up on Cletho's doorstep one day and asks to be let inside. Scott implies he lacks loyalty because of his quick departure from the bad boys last season, but I have emphasized I disagree with this interpretation of Grian. Grian remains loyal all season. When he dies he doesn't know both Cleo and Etho were taken out just moments before him, and celebrates the amount of damage his final stand caused Gem and the Scotts. He will sacrifice himself for loyalty.

Secret Life is by far the most telling for Scar's stance on loyalty. He goes where the wind takes him. He tries to blend in for as long as he can and hopes no one notices he shouldn't be there. He only chooses the mounders over Gem and the Scotts because he is currently standing with them when the question needs answered. Friend to all friend to none. He could have easily picked either side. He refuses to take Pearl's offer for hearts, tho this is most definitely out of respect. He wants a fair fight with Pearl, and he gets it. He very quickly turns his blade on Pearl after Gem is gone. Because he was never too tied to one.

So uh tl;dr: Grian and Scar are quick to kill loyalties when necessary, but Scar will always prioritize his survival over being loyal

[ozzgin]

Hi!! Your writing it truly lovely 😭<33 If i could request anything with Zzy? Thank youuu

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader (II)

Featuring the goat-legged boy Zzy and a gloomy, newly employed detective Reader! By the way, his name is a little tribute to a series I like. Can you guess who inspired it? Hint: it's Jhonen Vasquez's first comic :D

Content: female reader, perverted goat demon yandere, dark/crass humor!, monster romance, mildly NSFW

[Part 1] [Monster masterlist]

The detective man, at the very least, kept his word. The pay is good, and you barely have any work to do. The jobs themselves are similarly not too challenging: so far you haven’t had to deal with any murder mystery out of an Agatha Christie novel. Rather, most of the time, it’s someone asking you to investigate their cheating partner, or sending you to do a background check for an employee. Every now and then you’ll get the odd client, but that’s something for another day.

Your boss isn’t all that bad either. You were initially quite hesitant to be alone in the room with him. He always seems to be surrounded by an eerie, dark aura, and you’ve only seen him smile in a menacing, villainous way. Now you’ve gotten used to his strangeness. In fact, it’s almost comforting. There’s something refreshing about another human being honest about their misery. He seems to be just as uninterested in this job as you are, spending most of his time reading at his desk. Despite his unkempt, scary appearance, he's pleasant enough and looks after you. Which, now that you think about it, is a little suspicious. You've seen him act around other people: curt and to the point, disinterested, even potentially rude. With demons, he's ruthless.

"Have you had lunch yet?" the man asks, standing up and dusting his knees. "I can get us something."

You nod and flash him a flaccid smile, although you can't help but ask:

"Listen, aren't you being a little too nice? I mean, I'm not complaining...but I've seen how you behave in general, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason for my special treatment."

He ponders your question for a moment, before his sunken eyes look ahead, somewhere behind you.

"Well…If I’m being honest, you’re kind of pathetic, aren't you? I’m just a little worried that if I’m too harsh, I’ll find out you hanged yourself in your apartment or something. Not that I’d care, but if you’re gone, I’m the one stuck with…that thing.”

Ah. That’s what it was. Almost immediately, a shiver runs across your spine.

“(Y/N)! Are you done yet? I’m booooooored”, a prolonged whine erupts from the neighboring chamber.

“I’m about to have lunch, actually. Do you want any-”

“You know I do! Spread those legs and I can start”, the goat demon declares with a grin, clacking his hooves in your direction.

You sigh.

Of course. Months ago, you were tricked into signing a lifelong contract with Zzy. It was the detective’s way of washing his hands off the matter and warmly welcoming you into the agency. It makes sense that he'd treat you with utmost care, otherwise he'd have to deal with this pest from Hell once again.

How's your life with Zzy going?

You've since found a way to seal your bedroom, in order to avoid waking up with his groping hands under your sheets. Sadly, the stubborn creature keeps finding ways to bypass your safety measurements. Who would’ve thought that lust is such a powerful driving force?

On top of the nightly shenanigans, you obviously have to deal with him during the day, at the agency. “Listen, it’s like…one of those fidget toys. It helps with stress”, he explains fervently while pointing at your chest. “You want me to do my work properly, don’t you?” He concludes theatrically. “You’re not holding my boobs. This is the end of the conversation.”

If you’re having a bad day, it won’t go unnoticed. “Boy, what a smell, what a delicacy. You’re even more miserable than usual”, Zzy will exclaim, throwing his hands together in a graceful prayer. “You know what the best medicine is? A quick fuck. Let me pound that sadness out of you, eh?”

Despite his constant clowning, the demon does have moments of clarity. He becomes particularly serious when jealous. “What have you done?” You shout in despair, gawking at the client - now morphed into a pig - foaming at the mouth and running around the room. “He was staring at your ass. Only I can do that.” The horned man stands proud, arms crossed, nodding at his own courageous act. His most treasured belonging has been defended once more.

As expected, the jealous curse has gotten both of you into time-out. Zzy because he cursed the client in the first place, and you - despite your protests - because you didn't stop him in time. "Can't you wear something easier to take off? It takes two business days to unbutton this crap", the demon complains as he fiddles with your shirt. You're laying on the sofa, hands behind your head, gazing at the clock on the wall and counting the minutes passing. Unbothered, compliant. The peacefulness of someone who's given up. "Zipper is to the left", you add, aiding the process.

Another irritating detail is that the damned beast can detect the slightest arousal coming from you, and will make sure to announce it loudly, regardless of who is around. "Someone's horny! Whew, getting me all worked up, too." You slap a hand over his mouth, a deep red blush rapidly spreading across your cheeks. You turn to the detective and apologize profusely, but he remains unconcerned, flipping another page. "Let me take care of her first, Mr. Detective", Zzy manages to mumble through your pressed fingers. "As long as you get the task done", your boss responds plainly, never bothering to look up from his book.

"You should visit me down there sometimes", the horned creature suddenly mentions, his head resting in your lap as you idly browse your phone. You stop to glance down at him. "In Hell, you mean?" He snickers at the thought. "No one believes me when I tell them I have a human girlfriend. I need concrete proof, ya feel me?" You raise an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?" He disregards your inquiry and continues: "At least give me a pair of your panties to take back home." Absolutely not.

"Were you this much of a menace before I showed up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?! You can't blame a demon for being in love."

You sigh once more and roll over.

"Does that mean we can go for round two~?" Zzy is grinning at his own suggestion.

"Just go to sleep. Or something."

[ldrfanatic]

this happens once every few lifetimes

mattheo riddle x reader

synopsis - reader transfers to hogwarts from ilvermorny. she and mattheo fall in love with each other at first sight.

warnings - none, i think?

listened to while writing - the alchemy by taylor swift

i have a clara bow theo one in the works right now that i'm excited to drop at some point. ngl this gif of benjamin in deadly class inspired this idea A LOT.

part two?

slytherin boys works

you waited with baited breath outside of the great hall.

any moment now the doors would swing open and albus dumbledore, who you knew only through legend, would announce your transfer to hogwarts.

it was terrifying honestly. leaving ilvermorny was indescribably difficult. but when your father got a job opportunity at the british ministry of magic, it was decided. already you were feeling overwhelmed. you'd done your research but hogwarts was much larger than ilvermorny. it was much older as well, and thus had gained a reputation over a thousand years of producing some of the greatest witches and wizards the world has ever seen.

the large magnificent doors opened and every pair of eyes was on you.

you walked forward with sweaty palms, subtly attempting to dry them on your plain, black hogwarts robes. another change. the wardrobe was much more strict here than back in america. and where every student at ilvermorny wore the same blue and gold, students at hogwarts wore colors representative of their house.

finally, you reached the end of the walkway and stood face to face with a dusty and rather ancient looking hat. to your light surprise, it spoke. a woman whom you'd met briefly beforehand, professor mcgonnagall, picked up the hat gently and motioned for you to sit on the stool.

it was time to be sorted into one of hogwarts four houses. you'd been in wampus, the house of the warrior, at ilvermorny, and despite hours of research, you couldn't distinguish what the hogwarts equivalent would be. all four houses seemed to be good choices but there was one in particular that stood out to you.

no shorter or longer than exactly fifteen seconds after the sorting hat touched your head, a declaration was made.

"slytherin!"

an older student in green robes gestured you over to the table on the far right. not wanting to sit at the very front and continue to be gawked at, you briskly walked a little further down and took a seat at the middle of the table.

once you'd taken your seat, dumbledore began to explain that hogwarts would be hosting the triwizard tournament this year. after a flashy introduction from beauxbatons and durmstrang, you effectively decided that you were not the most interesting shiny new toy at hogwarts this year and silently thanked the universe for this turn of events.

at last, it was announced that you could eat and the tables filled with food. all around you students' plates began magically creating complex dishes. there were even some dinners that held food that you were sure you couldn't see anywhere on the table.

frustrated, you stared down at your empty plate. it was a long journey to hogwarts. you were hungry and quite frankly tired of things being so different. if one more complicated situation made its appearance at this school, you were undoubtedly going to lose it.

"just think about a food you really want to eat. it can be anything."

a boy next to you with brown hair and bright blue eyes leaned over. a thick italian accent levied on his deep voice.

you closed your eyes and thought about a delicious juicy cheeseburger with golden-crisp french fries. sure enough, when you opened your eyes, your plate had filled with food.

absolutely giddy with glee, you turned to thank the mystery man.

"no problem. i'm theodore nott. this is draco malfoy next to me."

the platinum blonde boy didn't even look up to acknowledge your existence. theodore, seemingly sensing your mild displeasure, spoke up.

"don't mind him. welcome to slytherin house. riddle, say hello to our newest recruit."

the dark haired boy directly across from you who you assumed was 'riddle' did in fact look over from his conversation with a boy with a chestnut colored complexion. yet, when your eyes found his, he didn't say hello.

he didn't say anything actually. he just sort of stared. as you held eye contact, it was like lightning running through your veins and sizzling at your fingertips.

for a moment, you wondered if he'd ever seen a person before.

then, as if he'd snapped out of a daze, a gentle smile played at his lips. dark curls fell over his brown eyes that seemed to sparkle the longer you looked at them.

his large hand crept over the table until it was outstretched towards you with a kind smile.

"mattheo."

you shook his hand with a shy smile. mattheo was currently looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered. in fact, your little interaction had gone on so long that theodore and the boy mattheo had been speaking with had both strucken up conversation with other students at the table.

"y/n."

mattheo eyed your appearance. his gaze flickered across your face, then to your hair, and all over the parts of your body he could see.

"sorry if this is a little awkward, but i can't remember the last time i was this captivated by someone." mattheo finally released your hand and you had to stop yourself from begging him not to.

"welcome to slytherin house. you're in the snake's nest now, beautiful."

---

7.8.2024

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They're Mates - with Y/N Pt 1

Summary - Feyre meets Rhys's Inner Circle and witnesses the strength of the mating bond.

Warnings - abusive family mentioned.

Other Notes - 1k words; Please note that most of these lines/plot points are inspired or directly quoted from ACOMAF; I originally posted this where Reader was given the name 'Vee' but am putting this one out for anyone who might prefer y/n.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Masterlist

✨💫

Feyre looked up to see the same two males from earlier standing in the doorway, grinning, and a new presence. A beautiful female with wings like the others. She wore a deep blue gown that reached the floor––her hair resting over both her shoulders. The two males wore black leather with a sword strapped against their backs. Feyre noted the power each of them seemed to hold.

The male who was a bit large than the other, spoke up with a light chuckle. “We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to Feyre.”

The female shot him a pointed look. “Last time I checked, nobody wanted to take you up on that offer, Cassian.” The male who stood between the female and Cassian let out a light, short, laugh before whispering something into the female’s ear making her eyes twinkle subtly. Feyre watched as Cassian gave his own pointed look.

“No secrets in front of our guest, Az,” Cassian said with a grin.

The light danced across their faces allowing Feyre to observe their physical features for a moment. Similar to Rhysand, all three were dark-haired. Both males had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Feyre couldn’t quite tell the eye color of the female standing next to Az, but she gave off an air of beauty and power.

Cassian grinned again, looking Rhys and Feyre up and down. “You made poor Feyre dress up, brother,” he said before winking in her direction. His features were rough like someone had molded him, from the earth.

The second male was more classically beautiful, though hard to read. He was certainly the one who would be a surprise in the dark, the hidden knife. Feyre noticed the light sparkle in his eyes anytime he looked at the female to his left. It piqued a curiosity in Feyre.

Rhys said, “Azriel––my spymaster,” indicating the one in the middle. He then indicated the female. “Y/N. An emissary for the Night Court.” A name, Feyre later learned, Az had adopted for the emissary after she declared she did not want the name her abusive family had given her.

She immediately offered her hand with a warm smile. “Welcome, Feyre.” She gently squeezed Feyre’s before she quickly let go and Feyre does her best to not seem eager as she stepped back to stand next to the High Lord of the night Court, again.

“You’re brothers?” Feyre asked. The two males before her looked similar. The kind of similar where people who come from the same place do, not familial similar.

“All bastards are brothers in some sense,” Rhys responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Before Feyre could ask Cassian said, “And I command Rhys’s armies.”

Feyre nodded, shifting on her feet slightly before her eyes glanced to see Azriel taking another glance in the emissary’s direction. She looked right back with a smile that showed a clear fondness for the spymaster. The moment went as quickly as it came when Az turned his gaze to Feyre. “Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand, good luck.”

Feyre was giving more attention to not being recognized as the girl Under the Mountain. She wondered, for just a moment if they knew––maybe they didn’t. That was quickly  answered when Cassian nudged past the Night Court’s spymaster requiring Az to flare his wings to keep himself balanced. Feyre watched Y/N’s hand fall to Azriel’s lower back to assist. Feyre noticed the fleeting moment of eye contact between the spymaster and the emissary, but it quickly became a second thought as Cassian asked his question about how Feyre had made the bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm’s lair, when as he put it, “you looked like your own bones could snap at any moment.”

Y/N shot Cassian another pointed gaze, but it turned into a grin after Feyre made a sarcastic comment of her own. The general laughed and Azriel’s eyebrow lifted with approval as the shadows swirled around him, tighter. Feyre’s need to understand the gift only furthered when the shadows swirled up and around Y/N’s wrist playfully, before weaving around the ends of her hair.

Her curiosity once again was pushed to the side when Feyre heard, thankfully, a familiar voice…Mor. “I hope Cassian’s howling means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.”

Y/N quickly whispered something into Az’s ear, his shadows lightened slightly from around him. Feyre’s curiosity about the nature of their relationship increasing.

“I don’t know why I forget you two are related,” Cassian told Mor, while glancing over at Rhys for just a moment. “You two and your clothing.” The High Lord rolled his eyes, but Feyre had her own focus on the emissary and the spymaster who were both standing in silence, stealing glances at each other.

“I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have tried to make an effort to comb your hair,” Mor responded.

Cassian braced his feet a little farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance Feyre recognized, perhaps too well. “Unlike some people, I have better things to do with my time than sit in front of the mirror for hours,” the general bit back.

“Yes,” Mor the said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “since swaggering around––”

“We have company,” Azriel said in a soft warning, spreading his wings as he tried to herd everyone.

“Relax, Az,” Mor said as she dodged the spymaster’s outstretched wing. “We won’t fight. We promised Rhys.”

Feyre barely noticed Az stop in his tracks, letting out the smallest of huff and his shadows seem to become thicker. She then watched as Y/N took one of Az’s hands in her own, gently pressing her lips to the back of it. His shadows lightened around him. Apparently the question about their relationship reached Feyre’s face because Rhys leaned down slightly to say, “They’re mates. Azriel and Y/N. They’ve known each other a little over 500 years and been mates just under 500.”

Feyre considered that fact, thinking there was something delicately beautiful about nearly 500 years of commitment between the two. Now she just had a few thousand more questions about the court’s spymaster and emissary. Question she decided were for another time as Mor indicated the empty seat beside her. Feyre knew the image of Az whispering into his mate’s ear and the twinkle in her eye would be etched into the back of her mind forever.

[emeritusemeritus]

Breed like Gnomes [Fred Weasley]

Title: Breed like Gnomes.

Pairing: PregnantWife!Reader x Fred Weasley

Timeline: Set after Canon (Fred lives!)

Summary: At Ginny and Harry’s wedding, you find yourself facing Aunt Muriel’s unpleasantness, so Fred decides to have some fun.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, babies, sexual references.

Word count: 1.2k

June 4th 2003, a joyful and long awaited day for all in attendance. The marriage of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley. It was a family affair, both in blood and bond, the entire venue packed with loved ones sharing in the happiness of the newlyweds.

Being Ginny's long standing friend and now sister-in-law, you were naturally made a bridesmaid along with six others who proudly stood by Ginny's side as she said her vows. It was beautiful, joyous and utterly heartwarming to see them unite and be declared husband in wife in front of the many people attending. The couple had initially wanted a much smaller affair than what had transpired but in the end, they were too deeply cared for by so many and the numbers were ever increasing, only made worse by Molly's excitement and welcoming nature.

It had been a truly magical day; getting to support your new sister in law, to see your daughter throw wild flowers down the aisle and most of all getting to check out your husband in his tux as he sat beaming beside his twin brother in the front row, holding back a tear at seeing his little sister suddenly looking so grown up.

"You alright sweetheart?" Fred asks worriedly as you lower yourself gently into your assigned seat inside the bustling marquee. It was getting late now, the party stretching into the night as people danced merrily around you.

You were exhausted from the day, the early morning, the usual nuptial stresses and from the shoes that were growing increasingly uncomfortable around your slightly swollen ankles.

You simply smiled warmly at Fred with a little nod, leaning into his touch when he placed his arm behind you on your chair, his fingers fidgeting with the strands of hair that had fallen down your back.

You both turned your heads in the direction of delighted squeals and watched as your children danced around, chasing each other and their many cousins with beaming smiles on their faces. Their nice outfits were quite frankly ditched at this point and they'd eaten more cake than you cared to admit throughout the day but as you looked at the three happy faces on the dance floor, you couldn't care less. Their uncle George took turns spinning and twirling them and you couldn't help but watch in devotion at seeing your oldest dancing with your brother in law, no doubt standing on his feet as he glided her around whilst the twins ran in circles around the dancing pair.

You let out a little surprise gasp when you felt a sharp kick to your side, just underneath your rib.

"I thought you were asleep," you say quietly with a loving smile as your hand drifts down to your blooming bump, gently rubbing over the spot where you'd felt a little prod.

"Letting you know he's there?" Fred asks with a smirk, noticing your movements. He moved closer and places his large hand over yours, wanting to feel for himself the little kicks that had you smiling at your bump.

"He?" You question sarcastically, with a slight raise of your eyebrow.

"Fathers intuition," Fred smirks with a slight shrug, "never been wrong yet."

"You didn't know there were two last time," you countered teasingly, nodding your head towards the two litttle boys causing havoc on the dance floor. He lets out a boyish chuckle and for a moment you both catch each other's eyes, both twinkling in delight and bound with love. You'd been married for nearly five years, together for much longer but it still took your breath away how much you loved this man, and how much he loved you in return.

"Good heavens!"

The nice moment passed as soon as the loud, screechy voice sounded out on the next table, forcing you apart. You jumped slightly at the unexpected noise before realising that Fred's great aunt Muriel had taken up a seat at the table beside yours and as usual her presence was unwanted. Her voice went through you, like nails on a chalkboard. The high tone and the derogatory, unpleasant undertone to her words, accompanied by the constant hateful look on her face were enough to cement a negative association in your mind. Both you and Fred deflated a little at her presence, with Fred letting out an audible sigh that you felt in your soul. Even your baby let out a sharp kick as if to announce their own displeasure at the sound of her voice.

"Yes aunt Muriel?" Fred says in the most monotone voice he can muster, not even attempting to hide the dismay in his voice, or his face.

"Godric," she mumbles under her breath, casting her eyes between the two of you, focusing her beady eyes on your bump, and where your children were currently hanging off George like monkeys in a tree. "You breed like gnomes!"

You hope your face doesn't show the depth of your exasperation at her words but you doubted your ability to keep a straight face. Fred, of course, finds it hilarious and can't keep the smile off of his face. You can feel his shoulders moving up and down with silent laughter but he manages to contain it and simply clears his throat to hide the laughter.

"Have either of you considered simply reading of an evening? Instead of what I assume are your usual activities?" She says with a bitter tone, face downturned into her usual grimace.

Fred snorts at her words and though you feel slightly offended by her accusation, just as you always did by her comments, you can't help but chuckle yourself at the strangeness of the situation. Was she really commenting on your sex life?

"Onto your fourth already! And only 25! You’re worse than your mother, all of you breed like Gnomes."

"You see I've never been one for reading, but I tried," Fred replies coyly. From his tone of voice you can tell that he's teasing, about to prod the bear. "But it only gave me more ideas. What was is called sweetheart? Some muggle book... Kama sutra! Eroticism for begginers. Let me tell you, it's changed my life! Couldn't put it down... or her," he says, nodding his head towards you with a wicked smile on his face as his hand snakes around to cradle your bump once again.

You can't hide your smile this time as Muriel lets out a disgusted squark and turns away with a deeper grimace than before. You turn your head and snuggle into Fred's shoulder to hide your laughter whilst he openly chuckles to himself, head thrown back slightly in glee.

"You're terrible," you mutter with a smirk, pulling yourself away from the soft fabric of his shirt where it stretches over his muscled shoulders. His smile is wide and wicked as he takes in your words, hearing nothing but compliments.

"Hilarious is a better word," he quips, eyes shining in delight.

"Incorrigible."

"Completely irreformable," he agrees without a single care. "But I think you like me like this."

You look up from under your lashes at him, matching the look in his sparkling eyes and can't help but agree.

Taglist part 1 ♡

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[strawberrytoki]

kairos

Jacaerys Velaryon X reader

summary: You and Jacaerys have yearned for each other for as long as you can remember, but all you could spare one another were lingering glances, hesitant touches, and stolen moments of solitude, all on borrowed time.

warning: slight changes and deviations from the books, implied smut

forbidden love, slight angst.

1 hour.

It had been 60 minutes since you began frantically pacing through the echoing, vacant halls of the castle, not knowing what your next move should be.

This was due to the explosive dispute that ensued earlier within the very walls of the keep that stood atop Dragonstone. Your parents, both proud Velaryons and representatives of the house, were invited by Rhaenyra to further discuss strategies to strengthen her claim to the iron throne. Both your houses were strongly tied by bounds of marriage, and extensive history dating back centuries. There had even been talk about further strengthening the bond both houses shared by betrothing you to Jacaerys, an idea both of you were more than pleased by. However, relations between your houses have been less than sturdy as of late, due to your father discovering Jacaerys' parentage. It was surely the whispers of the court that unveiled the truth, they were hard to silence after all. Your father deemed Jacaerys a bastard with sullied blood, viewed him as someone who'd taint the bloodline with shame, and essentially wanted nothing to do with the house altogether, but war had ways of bending even the strongest of convictions.

Your father decided to put all differences aside in consideration of the imminent threat of war, and accepted Rhaenyra's invitation. She was aware that Corlys was exposed to the truth regarding Jacaerys' father, but decided that she was not going to address the matter if he wasn't, in order to prevent further destabilization within the realm. You were elated when your parents asked you to accompany them, as you were gradually taking on greater responsibilities, and were surely to be asked to weigh-in on their discussions soon. However, that wasn't the only reason you couldn't hold your excitement.

Jacaerys Velaryon was always a constant factor in your life, and denying your feelings for him was simply postponing the inevitable. It wasn't long before you learned that your feelings were reciprocated. That being said, the two of you couldn't come forward with your love just yet, considering that both your families currently had bigger fish to fry with war looming ahead and what not. You were both aware that you'd have to eventually join Rhaenyra's forces as dragonriders and fight for her cause as rightful heir to the throne. Therefore, you both wished to spend as much time in each other's comforting company as you possibly could. Despite your protests, Jacaerys posed the idea of seizing the opportunity of the presence of both your families, and declaring your love before them this day.

As you approached the gate's entrance, you noticed Jacaerys staring at you, with a glint of adoration in his eyes, which you gladly, but subtly returned. After both families were done greeting one another, you entered the chamber, and took your seats around the painted table, where both of you continued your exchange of fleeting glances.

The determined discussions were then paused for a meal, after which you noticed your father call upon Jacaerys for a word, his face a controlled mask of fury. Fearing what was to come, you quietly followed them both, making swift maneuvers to avoid getting caught.

You saw Jacaerys hesitantly follow your father into the Great Hall and quickly made your way to the giant door before it was fully shut, leaving yourself some room for eavesdropping.

"I have always treated you with respect," Lord Corlys began, his voice low but steady. "I have welcomed you into my home as family, as kin. But it seems my respect has been misplaced." Jacaerys frowned, confusion and fear knotting in his chest. "My lord, I don't understand." He did. He understood, and his racing heartbeat and beads of forehead sweat betrayed him. Lord Corlys' eyes mirrored his blazing anger. "Save yourself what little dignity you have left and do not play the fool with me, boy! I know the pitiful truth of your birth and I am certain you do as well. You do not bear Velaryon blood, and most certainly are not suitable for my daughter."

Both the accusation and the denial of your love hung heavy in the air, making it too thick to inhale. Jacaerys was always aware of the rumors and hearsay that circulated regarding his legitimacy, but to be ambushed with it so harshly, so firmly, was a blow he was not prepared for.

"Who told you?" Jacaerys managed to choke out, his facade of confidence slowly crumbling. Lord Corlys condescendingly scoffed. "It matters not, it is true isn't it?"

Jacaerys felt his head spin, and his identity scramble with it. "My mother loved Laenor. He raised me as his own-"

"But he did not father you," Lord Corlys snapped. "And you will not corrupt my bloodline with your tainted heritage." Deciding that you heard more than enough, you stormed in the hall, desperate for your father to bring his verbal assault to a halt.

"Father! Please stop this at once!" Lord Corlys turned to face you, his expression softening slightly. "You deserve better, my daughter. You deserve a true Velaryon, not this pretender."

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked between your father and Jacaerys. "I love him, Father. He was raised as a Velaryon, he knows our ways, is that not enough?"

"It is not." Lord Corlys said firmly, maintaining his stance. "You will not be betrothed to him." Both you and Jacaerys were speechless since your throats tightened with heartache, leaving no room for words.

Jacaerys quickly turned and walked away, his head hanging low, not sparing you a glance. You looked at your father in despair, but he was unmoved. Knowing that your protests would've fallen on deaf ears, you decided to save your breath and go after Jacaerys, whose heart was sure to be in pieces after what transpired.

Ever since both of you were children, Jacaerys loved taking warm baths whenever he was upset, since he felt like they imitated the warmth he lacked at the time. Old habits die hard, so you were more than certain that's what he was about to do.

You were torn between giving him the space he needed and offering him the comfort he surely wished for at the moment, which was why you were pacing back and forth near the entrance of the bathing chamber. Eventually, you decided against your better judgement to enter the chamber, convincing yourself that this was solely to comfort him even though deep down, this was comfort you sought for yourself as well.

You stepped into the dimly-candlelit chamber to find Jacaerys soaking in the warm water, his eyes glazed and his lips slightly pouted. Even in sadness, he was beautiful. His eyes then met yours as you were idle in your spot. The silence was deafening but understandable. Tentatively, you approached the tub, and sat at the edge of it.

"Jacaerys-" You started, but were promptly interrupted by him. "He tells the truth, you know? Lord Corlys." He stated shakingly, his eyes fixed at the rippling water.

You were angry at this sentiment that he held, angry that he thought of himself so lowly, it pained you. "I've heard it all before," He continued. "I didn't wish to believe it at first, but I'd have been a fool not to. I thought it'd sting less with time, but it seems I've been mistaken. I loathe how I can be dismissed with just a word." A pensive, frustrated sigh escaped his lips, and that was when you grabbed his sharp face with both your hands, gently coaxing him out of his worried trance. You carefully caressed his face, not breaking eye contact. "My father is only concerned with titles, with names. You are a dragonrider, and dragon blood courses through your veins. He cannot take that from you."

Much to your delight, his lips curved into a serene smile, and with one hand, he pulled you in for a tender kiss. Unbeknownst to you, he used the other to slyly sneak around your waist and pull you into the tub. The water splashed up around you as you let out a surprised gasp, stifled by Jacaerys' kisses. The comfort of his embrace and the laughter that bubbled up between you two created an atmosphere that enveloped you in its warmth. Your bodies were desperate to be bound, and so you let them. In that stolen moment, you and Jacaerys found solace in each other’s warmth and could not think of anything else that mattered as much.

[explicit-tae]

One Way Or Another (2/2)

After nearly 3 years, your therapist encourages you to let the past be the past - "what can go wrong after all these years?" she says. @silversparkles11 @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @mak7sstuff @namjinsworld @laylasbunbunny @roseki @castlewolfsbane @babycandy111 @minshookie29 @btsw1fe @kyglover @trevsinz @roseki

Part 1

i'm so sorry this took a whole year :')

Word Count: 7.295

Warning: dark themes, smut, yandere, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, mentions of dark sexual desire, noncon/dubcon, creep jungkook, kidnapping, acts of violence, narcissistic behavior, unsolicited grinding/groping, unprotected sex, creampie,

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighs over the phone, his voice cracking. “she’s so beautiful…”

Namjoon sighs over the other line. “Where are you?”

Jungkook’s legs begin to bounce, the child lying against him. “With my daughter.” was not the response Namjoon is expecting. He’s silent, unsure if his ears heard what Jungkook actually said. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N never told me…” Jungkook’s voice cracks once more. “...Why would she leave me, hyung? Leave with my daughter?”

Namjoon can hear the rage in Jungkook’s voice, getting higher as he speaks. “Calm down, Kook.” Namjoon begins. “Are you with Y/N now?”

Jungkook scoffs. “No. She left my daughter with a babysitter.”

Namjoon sighs in relief. “Alright.” he begins. “What are you planning on doing?”

Jungkook presses a kiss against the child’s head, holding her in an embrace that he doesn’t want to release her from. His heart is full, even when he knows it would just be broken by you once more.

For years he had tried to search for you to come up with nothing - all until a few months prior. He had to thank Namjoon for it, his hyung having a lead that led him to you.

 You looked so different, yet still so beautiful. It causes a smile to form on Jungkook’s lips watching you - he wants to come to you. He wants to reach out and hug you and declare how much he missed you.

But Jungkook didn’t - you weren’t ready. So what he chose to do was continue to watch - and when his eyes caught on you and the small child, he nearly cried; both in rage and in joy. Joy because this was his first child that resembled him more than not. Rage because you had left him with his child, refusing to come back home where you belonged. 

Now here Jungkook was holding his child, the small girl welcoming him with open arms. She’s sweet, willingly allowing him to hold her close and kiss her head once she heard that he was her dad - even at her young age. 

Jungkook’s attention peaks when he hears the water to the shower turn off. He sighs, annoyance running through him. He sets his daughter down, upset that his time with her was so little, but the babysitter - one who was not worthy to be around his child - was moments away from returning. 

“My beautiful daughter.” Jungkook presses another kiss to her head, sighing into it. “Appa will be back, okay?” he says, smiling down at her. 

“O-kay.” the soft voice hits Jungkook’s ears and it takes everything in him to leave her there. 

“Obviously I need to get my family back, hyung.” Jungkook responds, dipping out the front door just as he hears the door to the bathroom open. 

“I agree.” Namjoon says. “Don’t do anything too rash, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but when it comes to having you and his daughter in his life, nothing was “too” rash.  He had to start with whoever this Stefan person was in your life.

“You like this guy, right? Your co-worker?” your therapist questions. 

Your head lays in your hands as you nod it, leaning back against the decorative chair - the same one you’ve sat in once a week for years now.

“It’s been a year since you opened up about your past.” she notes. “What you’ve been through with that man is terrible, Y/N.”

That man - your therapist never says Jungkook’s name. She refuses after you told her the entire truth of what you’ve endured by him.

“That does not mean love is out of the picture.” she leans forward with a soft smile on her lips. “You’ve spoken fondly of your co-worker. Do you like him?”

Your mind thinks of Stefan. You met him when you first moved and started a new job - and life away from what you were accustomed to. It was a stressful move that had you constantly looking over your shoulder, terrified that Jungkook would be there.

Stefan, however, appeared to be a breath of fresh air. He was charming in his own way, someone that could make you laugh when you needed it. He was persistent, but never pushy.

But even if Stefan was everything you thought you needed, you weren’t sure you could ever pursue him. You were left traumatized after Jungkook - the constant calls and messages to your phones; oftentime threatening. The amount of times he was able to find you when you thought you’d lost him - only when you filed for a temporary restraining order did it stop. But temporary was the keyword, nothing was ever permanent. Jungkook was a charming man to the public, flashing a smile and batting his eyelashes and everything he’s done could be washed away. 

The first chance you took to move away, you did, not caring if the restraining order would be voided. Jungkook would know where you’d be - he’ll have to know where he couldn’t go.

Even now, years later, you could hear the harsh, threatening words from Jungkook. “I hate that you choose them over me.” Jungkook said about Lina and any type of friendship you had. “You’re leaving me because I care about your well-being?” when you attempted to end it with him, and the cherry on top being, “You look at me as if I would ever hurt you. I could kill you then myself…but I’ve never thought about doing that once.” and somehow, you weren’t convinced.

“Y/N?”

You blink a few times to come back to reality. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize to me.” your therapist shakes her head. “You do that often. You get in your head and it’s hard to get out of it.”

You smile weakly at her. Your eyes turn towards the clock on her desk facing you. “Looks like time is up.” you murmur.

“Ah, I suppose so.” your therapist eye’s you as you rise from your seated position and gather your belongings. “Y/N.”

“Yes?” you say to her with knitted brows. 

“Happy Birthday to your daughter. She turns 3 today, correct?”

You smile, nodding your head. “Yes. Ava is turning 3.” you say. “I actually have to go pick her up.”

Your therapist nods. “I know she’ll have an amazing birthday.”

You tried your best to give your daughter everything she needed. It’s not easy - nothing in your life ever was, especially now. 

Finding out you were pregnant in the midst of getting away from Jungkook was not something you wanted to deal with - yet and still, an abortion is not something you wanted to go through. Your pregnancy was a rough one  - you’ve grown depressed and rotted yourself in self-pity. You couldn’t fully connect with your daughter until the end of your pregnancy when reality was settling in that you were going to be a mother. 

As you held your daughter in your arms the day she was born, your heart swells with love, even if she appeared similar to the man you didn’t wish to see. You wanted her to be nothing but safe and feel all the love from you that she couldn’t feel from another parent. 

“Think about it, Y/N.” your therapist speaks as she walks you towards her office door. “You deserve happiness, as well. What can go wrong after all these years?” she says. 

A shudder runs up your spine for the first time in years at her words, unsure truly as to why.

“You’re so messy.” you laugh at your daughter, going to wipe her face from the pasta sauce that is smeared on her cheeks. 

You and Ava are seated in the small restaurant, an intimate moment between the two of you. She was older now, and you always wanted to give her the birthday she deserves. However, you aren’t making the amount of money you once were - working at Sapphire's after dark made you more money in one night than you do now with a paycheck. You could only ever afford to take her somewhere to eat and a small cake.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.Sometimes as parents, we blame ourselves for not being able to give our children the world.” your therapist has said a week prior. You had cried how you wanted to give your daughter more, but couldn’t afford to. “But children don’t want the world, they want their parent’s love and support.”

It’s advice you often have to repeat so you wouldn’t put yourself down. 

“Wanna eat your cake?” you sniffle, blinking a few times to regain focus.

“Yes.” your daughter nods meekly, her voice so soft that it causes you to coo.

The cake is small and round. It’s chocolate, her favorite, and you are quick to cut her a piece. You aren’t hungry and would often watch her eat, satisfied with her being fed. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, noticing how her eyes would flicker from her cake up towards you. “Do you not like the cake?”

Ava shakes her head. “Where’s appa?”

You’re positive that your face pales, possibly looking as if you saw a ghost.

“W-What do you mean, baby?” you stutter. Ava has never asked for her father - or any father at that. This is the first time you’re hearing this and your heart is pumping with nerves. 

“Where is appa?” Ava asks again, this time a little higher. “Appa said he will be back.”

Your heart begins to beat loudly outside your chest. Your throat tightens, unable to respond to your daughter. Your mind is racing at her words - again, Ava never speaks like this. 

What does she mean he said he’ll be back?

“Come on, baby.” you gather the cake in your hands to save it for later. You’re trembling and it angers you. You don’t want your daughter to see you like this. “We have to go home.”

“I wanna see Appa.” Ava’s voice is growing softer and you’re certain she was going to cry. You shake your head, eyes bouncing around the restaurant. The familiar feeling was coming back - the feeling of being stared at. You haven’t felt this way in over a year. 

“Ava, baby. We have to go.” you don’t allow your daughter to continue with her tantrum. You place money down on the table, gather your daughter and the cake and journey out of the restaurant. 

“Y/N?” the sound of Yuri’s voice sounds through your phone. “Is everything alright?”

“I-I…can you watch Ava?” you murmur. “I’m sorry this is so last minute. I-I know I just picked her up but-”

“Y/N, calm down.” Yuri quips. “Are you alright? You sound so scared.”

You weren’t alright, but you couldn’t tell Yuri - or anyone - anything. You look down at Ava walking besides you, her small hand in yours. Her eyes are up at you, a slight sad look on her face. 

“Y/N…” Yuri trails off at your silence. “...I can watch Ava no problem.”

“Thank you, Yuri. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize.” Yuri interrupts you. “You know I love Ava.”

Yuri was someone you were grateful for. You were grateful for your therapist for helping you find Yuri - she was her niece, after all. She was young and attending college. She lived in an apartment fully paid by her parents as long as she attended college. She was a sweet girl and Ava loved her just as much as she loved Ava.

It took ten minutes for you to be at Yuri’s door, her already meeting you. She slightly pats Ava’s head as you arrive. 

“Here’s her cake, I, um…she didn’t really get a chance to eat it.” your heart drops. Yuri notices that you’re trembling still as she takes the cake. “Thank you so much, Yuri.”

“Y/N, please. Are you safe?” Yuri drops her tone to assure Ava isn’t listening. The television is on in the livingroom and she’s already seated in front of it. 

“Yes.” you nod, even if you’re unsure yourself. “I just…have to go talk to your aunt and-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” Yuri shakes her head. She doesn’t know your backstory, and she understands that her aunt being your therapist that it isn’t something she could ask. But the terrified look in your eyes is what worries her. 

You nod. “Thank you.” you were grateful for Yuri, truly.

Within 20 minutes, you were back at your therapist's office. You were speaking nonstop, going through countless scenarios of what Ava could be speaking of about her father - stating that he would be coming back. 

“Sometimes children have imaginary friends. Especially at her age.” your therapist stands to calm you. “She probably made up her own father figure to make up for the lack of it.”

“But,” you shake your head. “I don’t think-”

“Y/N. It’s been years.” 

You inhale, counting in your head. You exhale.

“Ava is fine. You are fine.” your therapist assures. “Ava is growing older. She will soon ask about where her father is as she enters school. She will see her peers have something that she does not.”

Your head falls into your hands at her words. 

You didn’t want this for Ava - you wanted to be everything she needed. You wished she had a father figure, but if Jungkook was that, you’d rather do everything alone. 

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t an amazing mother. You are. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“She asked about him.” you say meekly. “She said that he was coming back as if…she saw him. Can children imagine so vividly?”

Your therapist nods. “The imagination of a child is unmatched. I suggest you sit down and speak with her. She may be 3, but she’s a growing child.”

As you were about to respond, your phone sounds with a notification. It’s Stefan, you note, his name dashing through your screen. 

“Respond to it.” your therapist nods. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He can be a psycho.” you murmur, but even you didn’t believe that. Stefan didn’t share any red flags with you and acted like a complete sweetheart.

But again, so did Jungkook in the beginning. 

“Don’t allow yourself to not feel love because of your past, Y/N.” your therapist gives you a small smile.

“He…wants to meet up.” you sigh. “I can’t it’s Ava’s birthday and-”

“Does he know about Ava?”

You nod.

“Do you not want to bring him around Ava yet?”

Slowly, you shrug your shoulders. You didn’t want Ava to get the wrong idea, especially now that she was growing older and wanting a father figure. Yet, you didn’t want to hide the fact that you had a daughter from Stefan.

“I can see you aren’t comfortable just yet with the idea of dating.” she says. “That doesn’t mean you and him can’t be friends, right? Hang around one another with Ava. See how he interacts with her. If he’s good with Ava, then it’s a step forward, no?”

You nod. “I suppose you’re right…”

You begin to text Stephan back, eyes glancing at your therapist for comfort. 

“I said we can um, meet at a cafe.” you murmur, a hot feeling growing throughout you. You haven’t felt this way in years - since Jungkook. 

“That’s good.” she smiles widely at you. “It’s good, right?”

“Yeah…I guess it is good.” you take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for coming back here so suddenly.”

“Please don’t apologize, Y/N.” your therapist assures. “You’re a mother and were worried for your child. Trust me, Ava and you are safe. You aren’t terrible for feeling the way you do after all you’ve been through.”

Hearing her words is encouraging. You just want Ava to be safe in the end - it’s your main goal. You loved Ava with all your heart, wanting to give her the life she deserves. She deserves a mother who wasn’t always looking over her shoulder afraid of a man who’s probably given up on her. 

“Thank you.” you mumble, clenching your phone in your hand.

“Appa!” 

Yuri watches as Ava runs into the man’s arm. He picks her up and holds her close. “Hey, baby.” he says softly to the little girl. “Happy birthday! Look what Appa got you.”

Jungkook is holding a small, pink bag in his hands.

“You said you’re Y/N’s-”

“Ex.” Jungkook nods his head, not liking the word a bit. “Ava’s father.”

Yuri has an uneasy feeling in her stomach as Jungkook speaks. “She told me to watch Ava-”

“I know. But I think I should be the one taking her now.” Jungkook smiles at the younger girl. “Y/N had a bit of a scare earlier.” Jungkook chuckles. “She told me to come get her.”

Yuri furrows her brows. “Really? She didn’t text-”

“Again. She’s going through something right now.” Jungkook interrupts, holding onto Ava tightly. He didn’t want to harm Yuri - not while he had his daughter. But if she was going to stick her nose in business that didn’t involve her, then he wouldn’t have a choice to. 

“I guess you’re right…” Yuri trails off, recalling the way you appeared seconds away from crying. Her eyes turn to Ava - the girl finally looked happy since you left. Everything she has tried to do to get the girl to cheer up has failed. “...Happy Birthday, Ava.”

Jungkook smiles, turning to his daughter. Yuri was smart, afterall. “Thank you for taking care of her.” he says sincerely then bows to bid his farewell. 

Jungkook strolls out of the apartment complex and towards his car. He opens the back seat and places Yuri inside of it, having already bought a car seat for her to sit in. He straps her in and couldn’t help but place another kiss on her forehead. “Here, baby. Happy birthday.” he says to her, handing her the pink bag with the gift inside.

Jungkook gets inside the driver seat and starts the car. Jungkook begins to drive, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror to assure his daughter was okay. “Are you happy you and Appa are going for a ride?”

Ara nods, her smile has yet to falter. Inside the pink bag had been a stuffed animal - the biggest she’s ever gotten - of a bunny. She holds it close to her that Jungkook just knows that when you finally came home, he would make it his mission to buy his daughter a mountain of them. 

“Appa?”

Jungkook’s hand clenches the steering wheel. He’s upset with you. Hearing his daughter call for him has a rush of emotions flowing through him - and he blames you for keeping this moment from him. How would you raise a child without a father in the home? “Yes, baby?”

“Where’s e-eomma?”

“Eomma is meeting us at home.” Jungkook says with a slight smile. He couldn’t wait to be reunited with you. “But Appa has to make a stop.”

“Stop where?”

Toddlers and their questions, Jungkook thinks. “To the lake.” he answers. 

Ava is satisfied with the response for now, and Jungkook continues to drive. 

Finding whoever Stefan was had been easy. He’s upset to know that the name has come up far too many times for his liking, and the months he has been following you, he’s grown to realize that the man was your co-worker - someone you had to see often. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that Stefan liked you more than he should, and that would cost him his life. Surely, it would be easier to just take you, his daughter and leave - yet that wouldn’t satisfy him. Knowing that you took his daughter from him - and took away the experience of him holding his child the day she was born - he had to find a way to punish you. “You’re too nice to her.” he recalls Namjoon saying one day. “She’ll never respect you as you are.” and his hyung was correct. Now three years later here we were - all because you wanted to be selfish.

“Going swimming?” Ava’s voice sounds through his ears as Jungkook parks the car. The sun is minutes from setting, the dark hue in the sky. The clouds are forming, as well, and he’s positive that the moon will be shining bright tonight. 

“Not us, no.” Jungkook removes his seatbelt. 

“I come?” Ava asks as she witnesses Jungkook get out of the car. 

“Of course.” Jungkook coos, opening the door to the back and removing Ava from her carseat. The bunny is held tightly in her embrace as she places her head on Jungkook's shoulders.

Jungkook goes around to the trunk and opens it. “Looks like Stefan’s awake, baby.” Jungkook cackles, his eyes darkening at the sight of the tied up man. “He was taking a little nap in the trunk.”

“Why?” Ava’s soft voice asks over the muffled screams of Stefan. He has tape around his mouth and rope around his wrist and ankles. Ava doesn’t appear to be frightened as a normal child would - but then again, she’s with her father. Jungkook would never allow any harm to come towards her. 

“Must’ve been sleepy.” Jungkook shrugs. “Appa’s going to put you down, okay?”

“Oh-kay.”

Jungkook places Ava down, patting her head slightly. He then proceeds to yank Stefan out of the trunk, the man falling with a thump, along with a pocket knife that he attempted to use against Jungkook.

Jungkook goes to grab the pocket knife out of Ava’s reach, the little girl already attempting to reach for it. He places it inside his pocket and turns back to Stefan. “Let’s go.” he states, but it isn’t like the man can move. Instead, he is dragged from the muddy scenery towards the lake.

Stefan’s muffled screams get a bit louder, but not loud enough. He’s squirming against his restraints, so much so that it begins to annoy Jungkook. “Stop resisting!” he hisses, his boot kicking Stefan in the ribs. “To think you had a chance with my girl is insane.”

The wooden dock is long and narrow. It creeks underneath Jungkook’s feet as he walks all the way to the end of it. 

“To think all Y/N had to do was not leave me.” Jungkook looks down at Stefan, the terrified look in his eyes comical. “Maybe then you would’ve lived to see tomorrow.”

Jungkook kicks Stefan into the lake. His body makes a splash, water wetting his boots. Jungkook turns away and makes his way back to Ava. “Such a good girl!” he cheers, scooping her into his arms. “Ready to see eomma?”

Ava nods, rubbing her eyes slightly. 

"You must be tired. Let’s go home, baby.”

Your eyes stare down at the text-message in horror, your body completely stiff.

Yuri: Hey, Y/N. Just to let you know, Ava went home with her father. She looked so excited to see him. I hope you’re feeling better than before. Please try to get some rest.

Your world feels as if something crashed through you. Your throat was tightening up and tears were swelling in your eyes. Your hands trembled, nearling dropping your phone several times. 

Ava’s father.

Ava’s father.

Ava didn’t have a father - not someone you agreed upon. She didn’t have someone you co-parent with.

Ava’s father.

That meant the feeling from before was true - the feeling of being stared at.

Jungkook was back.

Jungkook had found you.

Jungkook knows about Ava - he has Ava.

Your hands tremble as you go through a message thread you hadn’t opened in years - even after multiple number changes.

You swallow the thick lump in your throat as you press call, bringing it to your ear.

It only rings once.

“About time you called.”

Hearing Jungkook’s voice after all these years causes the hair on your body to rise. It brings back memories you want to suppress.

“Is Ava okay?”

“What type of question is that?” Jungkook hisses. He’s driving, you note, you can hear cars in the background. “I would never hurt our daughter.”

Our daughter. 

Your blood runs cold. 

“Please, Jungkook.” your voice cracks as you begin to cry, no longer caring. You just wanted Ava safe, and as of right now, she wasn’t. Not with Jungkook - anyone but him. 

“Aww, don’t cry, my love.” Jungkook’s taunting you. “I’ll see you at home.”

The line goes out before you can speak. 

Your home wasn’t far, only a few blocks away. But you’re sprinting there, pushing past anyone in your way. Your chest is heaving and your appearance was anything but presentable. 

There’s a car outside your home that you don’t recognize. It sits right outside of it - a sign that Jungkook was here.

“Ava’s asleep.” Jungkook says as you barge into the home. He’s seated in your livingroom, Ava in his arms. She’s asleep, clutching a stuffed animal you haven’t seen before. “Why are you looking at her like that? I said I’d never hurt her.”

You swallow. “I-I know.” you murmur. You don’t want to upset Jungkook. You’re positive that he’s already pissed having found not only you, but his child. “C-Can I…um…let’s put her to bed.”

Jungkook watches you for a moment, but nods. He follows you down the hall and towards a small room. A few toys are sprawled out on the floor. He places her in her bed and lifts the covers. “My pretty baby…” he murmurs, kissing her cheek. “So beautiful.”

The sight would warm your heart if it wasn’t Jungkook.

“I usually turn this on.” you murmur towards her desk. It’s a small humidifier that you flick on. It makes a noise as it works, a white noise that keeps Ava sleep during some nights.

“Come.” Jungkook turns away from you. “We need to talk.”

The door to Ava’s bedroom closes behind you. You usually don’t close her door at all - she didn’t prefer to be left in the dark. However, you wanted her far from you and Jungkook’s conversation.

Jungkook walks in your home as if he’s familiar with it, opening the door to your bedroom and flickering on the light. You no longer fight with your mind, contemplating if you were delusional or not.

Jungkook had been watching you - you’re sure of it. How long, you’re unsure. But you’re positive that he has. Ava is a sweet girl and far too trusting for your own liking, but you didn’t want to corrupt her mind when it came to meeting new people - and now you blame yourself. She had asked for her father because Jungkook had made himself present to her before…

Your heart aches at the revelation that you weren’t safe, and haven’t been for years.

“I thought about what I’d do when I saw you.” Jungkook begins just as you close the door to your bedroom. “When you first left, I’d admit I was angry.”

Jungkook looks nearly the same as he did 3 years prior - he added a few piercings and you’re positive he added more tattoos underneath his clothing. His eyes are the same, piercing right through you like they had many times before. 

“I never thought about hurting you more than I did the moment I found you.” The silence after Jungkook’s words is loud and deafening. You contemplated if you’d be able to get out the room and run down the hall to Ava’s for an escape, but you know he wouldn’t allow it. 

“You took my daughter away from me, Y/N. What have I done to you to deserve that?” Jungkook’s voice raises just a bit and you flinch when he steps closer to you. “You hate me that much? Was I not the one funding your lifestyle?”

“I didn’t ask you to.” you retort quietly - regretting it just as quickly as you said it. 

Jungkook scoffs. “I didn’t have to?” he says. “You were my girl. I gave you everything you wanted and more. Then you send a restraining order and leave with my-”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant!” you hiss. But even that wouldn’t have made you return to Jungkook.

“Your excuses aren’t good enough for me, Y/N.”

You yelp when Jungkook lunges at you. He flings you around, hands digging into your skin. You and he stumble a bit until he shoves you away. Your face is planted into your mattress, him pressed firmly against you.

Jungkook presses his nose into your hair and inhales deeply. He shudders. “You still smell the same.” he murmurs, his hips rocking against you.

You’re frightened to your core, unsure what in the world you’re supposed to say or do in this situation. You couldn’t think of just yourself anymore - Ava was just in the other room. You couldn’t trust Jungkook completely to not harm her if it meant hurting you.

“Why don’t you love me?”

Jungkook’s mood changes quickly, he leans back to yank your hair. You fight back a scream at how hard he tugs. You’re pressed firmly against his back, his nose against the nape of your neck.

“No answer…?” Jungkook hums against your neck. His hands let go of your hair, trailing to your shoulders. “...Did you love Stefan?”

You gulp, your breathing so loud that it echoes off of your walls. 

How did he know about Stefan?

Your heart thumps with anticipation for Jungkook to continue. 

“I hope you didn’t. He’s dead.”

Jungkook’s right hand grips your neck, a yelp releasing from your throat. You struggle to get away from his grasp, but Jungkook wasn’t going to allow it. He wasn’t going to allow you to leave him again - especially not with his daughter. 

“I’m tired of being nice to you, Y/N. You don’t like me being nice.” Jungkook squeezes your neck a bit harder, you grunts only fueling the erection in his pants. “I had to kill a man to make sure you know that I’m serious. Here,”

Jungkook is quick to remove his phone from his pocket and go through his photos. Your eyes widen at the picture of Stefan, bound and gagged in what appeared to be the trunk of a car.

Your stomach feels sick and you snap your head away to get the image out of your head. You can feel the tears lining your eyes.

“You killed him, Y/N. I wouldn’t have done anything if you didn’t leave with my daughter.” Jungkook pushes you away from him, releasing your neck. You fall against the mattress roughly, but you don’t have the strength in you to fight anymore.

“Why are you crying?” Jungkook snickers. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You want me to treat you like this, so I am.”

You’re flipped over once more, your back hitting your mattress. Your tears blur your vision of Jungkook, and it pains him to see how terrified you were of him - but this is what you wanted. You didn’t want the nice, protective boyfriend he was trying to be.

“I gave you everything, Y/N. And you left me.” Jungkook’s tugging at your shirt so roughly that you aren’t surprised it rips. Your room is cold, colder than it’s ever been. “You forced me to find you here with my daughter. You’re struggling, barely able to afford anything. The cherry on top was you agreeing to meet that man…” Jungkook shakes his head, rage bubbling up through him again. “You were going to have that man around my daughter, Y/N. How selfish can you be?”

Your bra comes off next, and Jungkook takes a deep breath. How he missed you beneath him, your sweet moans dancing in his ears. His hands grip your breast entirely, his thumbs rubbing along your erect nipples.

“I think you like the way I’m touching you now.” Jungkook murmurs. “Is this what it was, Y/N? You wanted me to be a little rough?”

You shake your head, sobs spilling out of your lips.

“Then what was it? Why did you leave me?” Jungkook’s thumb continues to rub circles on your nipples. “You took away our daughter. I didn’t have the chance to see her first steps because you want to be selfish.”

Jungkook pinches and pulls at your nipples, but you only liked that. Jungkook knows your body - even after all these years.

Jungkook’s hard, you note. You can feel it twitching against your clothed heat. Your eyes blink away the tears, throat so tight that you’re unsure if you could truly speak. “Are…are you going to hurt me?”

Jungkook tilts his head, eyes looking at your weeping figure. So fragile - so hopeless. 

Jungkook has witnessed your walls begin to crumble down. Any resistance you had was tumbling right before him. You weren’t going to fight him anymore - the sooner you realized that it was pointless, the sooner he could treat you how he wants to and not how he has to.

“I want to.” Jungkook admits. “I want to hurt you and show you how bad you’ve hurt me all these years. But I love you.”

You want to laugh - because this couldn't be love. This isn’t what you want Ava to grow up and endure.

“I love you so much, Y/N, that I can’t bear hurting you. But if I have to live with hating myself, I will.”

Jungkook’s right hand dips down slowly, as if taunting you to react. It goes beneath your pants to touch between your legs.

“If I have to hurt you to make sure you never leave me again…” Jungkook’s finger twirls around your clit, satisfied with how wet it was for him. “...I will, Y/N.”

You’re stiff, even when Jungkook removes his fingers and plop them inside his mouth. His eyes flutter, a deep groan coming from his throat. “How I missed the way you taste, my love.”

Your heart races - as does your mind. 

You’re powerless.

Jungkook was not going to let you go - not without hurting you. You didn’t know how far hurting you went, but you didn’t want to find out.

You begin to cry harder, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Please don’t h-hurt Ava.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “I’ll never hurt her!” he hisses. “Stop crying, Y/N. I want to give our daughter the life she deserves. With a mother and father.” he coos, going to wipe your falling tears. “Ava deserves to be in the best schools money can offer. I can offer. Would you really deny her an amazing life just because you want to be selfish?”

Jungkook’s words sting.

You wanted Ava to have an amazing life - she was your main priority. You couldn’t afford the best schools or luxuries like Jungkook could, and the thought has your heart breaking.

“Doesn’t Ava deserve to have two parents who love her?” Jungkook asks. “Or would you rather her grow up thinking her father left her? Are you going to tell her you didn’t allow me to father her? That you took the first man that’s going to love her away?”

Jungkook knew what to say to hurt you - to get you to submit to him fully. He was going to use Ava to his advantage - if that is what it took to have you and her back in his life. He didn’t want to hold you hostage. He wanted you to come to him willingly and be the family he knows you and he could be; for his daughter.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Jungkook’s face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin. “Don’t you want us to be a family? For Ava’s sake?”

You swallow.

You wanted Ava safe. You wanted her to have a good life - the life any child deserves. 

Your mind is screaming at you to fight Jungkook off - to take Ava and leave.

But where would you go? You couldn’t stay here and you could only run so far until Jungkook found you. You were tired of living your life in fear - constantly looking over your shoulder for Jungkook to come and take you away.

So, you had to make your own decision. You had to choose Ava over you.

Jungkook is surprised when he feels your lips on his so suddenly, but he doesn’t dwell. He melts into your lips, arms wrapping firmly around you.

“My good girl…” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “...I knew you’d choose the right choice.”

You want to laugh - you didn’t have a choice. It was either go with Jungkook willingly or against your will.

Your legs wrap around Jungkook and he allows you to flip him. Jungkook watches you with wide eyes. 

You had to do this, you think. You had to do this for your safety and for the AVa’s future. Maybe if you didn’t give in to Stockholm Syndrome, then maybe when Ava’s away at college you’d be able to escape.

You want to laugh at your unfortunate circumstance.

“Do you promise Ava will be okay?”

Jungkook’s eyes soften at your tone. He nods his head. “You have my word. You and Ava will be okay.”

You weren’t convinced about yourself, but as long as Ava was, then you wouldn’t care about the life you live alongside him.

“Okay.” you murmur. “The humidifier sometimes keeps her asleep. Not all the time.”

Jungkook nods his head. 

“Sometimes she’ll wake up because she wants to sleep with me.” you swallow. “We have about another half an hour before she might.”

Jungkook’s ear perks, and he nods rapidly.

You lift yourself from him, going to kick off your pants and underwear. You haven’t been with Jungkook (or any many) in so long, that you feel betrayed by yourself for being wet.

Jungkook wants to take his time with you - to run his tongue all over your body like he used to. To pleasure you until you’re cumming against his tongue.

But, there wasn’t any time now. And that was okay - because you are his now. Forever. What he couldn’t do now, he’d do next time.

Jungkook kicks off his own pants and underwear, revealing how excited he was to have you once more.

You swallow, getting onto your bed. You don’t want to face Jungkook - not now at least, pressing your face against the mattress and arching your back.

“It’ll get better, my love.” Jungkook murmurs, pressing himself again you. His lips are against your shoulder, peppering you with soft kisses. “If you’ll allow me to love you the way I want to, it’ll be good.”

You nod your head sullenly.

You’re wetter than Jungkook expects. He rubs his tip against your clit and between your folds to lube himself up. He gulps as he inches closer to your entrance. “So tight…” he says to himself, inching himself closer and closer until he’s in fully. “...all for me.”

Your hands grip your bedsheets, the feeling of a cock in you becoming foreign with time. 

Jungkook begins to thrust, slow at first until your wetness completely engulfs him. Then, he picks up the pace. Hands gripping your waist to completely hold you into place, his eyes stuck on the way your pussy takes him so good - just how he remembers it. 

You’re sure your clenching around him only fuels Jungkook to go harder, but your body is working against you. You don’t want it to feel good - you hated Jungkook. You hated the way he forced himself back into your life and gave you an ultimatum. He was a monster, admitting to killing an innocent man just because you left him.

But your body loved Jungkook - always had. His cock pumps inside of you with such need, never getting tired. You can feel your juices pooling out of you and onto your thighs, and even your moans are becoming hard to be suppressed.

You hated Jeon Jungkook with a passion; this is the man that got you fired from your job and turned your life upside down. The same man that admitting to wanting to hurt you for the pain that ‘you’ caused him.

But you loved the way Jeon Jungkook fucks with with such passion; such love. His right hand presses itself against your clit, rubbing with need. His lips are pressed loving kisses against your back.

Your pussy sucks him in with each thrust, never wanting to be let go. Your legs widen to have even more of him, and Jungkook gives you exactly what you’re asking for. The pleasure is so good that you no longer hide your moans as they’re growing higher and higher by the second. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Jungkook grunts, his grinding never stopping. He was so deep, hitting places that hadn't been touched in years. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I promise to be better…I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Don’t believe him, your brain tells you. Jungkook’s lying. He wasn’t sorry in the slightest - he would hurt you again and again if you didn't bend to his every will.

But your heart crumbles at Jungkook’s words. You once loved Jeon Jungkook, and maybe there’s somewhere in you that always will. Everytime you looked at Ava, you saw her father. Those doe eyes looking up at you each day are the ones belonging to the monster that was Jungkook. 

Your heart thumps at Jungkook’s words because you want to believe them - believe that he would never hurt you or cause you such pain; but your brain doesn’t want you to lead with your heart.

“I love you, baby. You know that.” Jungkook grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppy. If he could fuck you like this for hours, he would. Years he’s been without you could that a half an hour could not satiate him. 

Jungkook lifts you from the bed. He presses you against him, continuing to pound into you. His left hand forces your head to turn to look at him. “I love you, Y/N. Everything I did has been for you.” 

“I…I know…” you moan.

You were weak - and soon you’d regret your actions and not fighting back against Jungkook.

But you missed Jungkook - you missed the kind Jungkook. The soft Jungkook who held you at night and would listen to you talk about any and everything for hours. 

Maybe that Jungkook could come back, you think. As long as you didn’t do anything to upset him and accept the fate that was bestowed upon you.

“Say you love me back, baby.” Jungkook pleads. He needs to hear it - he hasn’t in so long.

Jungkook’s right hand continues to rub aggressively on your clit, his mouth on yours. His tongue suckles on yours for dominance - dominance he already had against you. 

“What’s the worst that can happen after all these years?” your therapist's voice rings through your mind.

The ironic - a part of you feel like the universe is playing a game on you.

“I love you, too.” you say against Jungkook’s tongue, feeling your high reaching. You’re so wet that you can hear the disgusting squelching sounds of your pussy, completely satisfied that it’s getting stuffed.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grumbles, pumping into even harder. “fuck, fuck, I love you, too baby. So much.”

Jungkook lets you go to fall back onto your mattress, a twitching mess as your high was riding down. He pounds into you a few more times, the sound of skin slapping and pants echoing off the walls until he cums inside of you, completely painting your walls with his seed.

Jungkook doesn’t remove himself until he’s soft, having no more cum left to give you. He kisses your back softly, wrapping his arms around your limp body. “I’m so happy you’re coming back to me, baby. Now we can be a family. You, me and Ava.”

“What’s the worst that can happen after all these years?”

[jolapeno]

i’d look for you

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

warnings: 18+, allusion to smut ONLY. soft!din. idiots who have feelings but don't know what to do with them. jo's writing din so it gets weirdly poetic again. wordcount: 2k notes: pairing is the same as other din fics by me. but don’t need to read to enjoy. written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge - this fic has made me smile so much, I hope it does the same for you.

“Can you do something for me?”

The question hangs, burns, in the air of his bed. Your eyes blinking awake, having been roused from slumber by his gloved hand on your cheek.

You’re aware he’s waiting, biting the inside of your cheek, as you nod.

Swallowing the longer answer which burns on your tongue, finding it now tastes of acid and wrongness, having been trapped inside for so long, having let it overstay its welcome.

You suspect he knows it all anyway. Likely as easily able to read you, as you are him. Able to hear the words you don’t say, just from the way you stare at him, like a written passage all on its own.

He helps you up, but doesn’t hurry you. You almost smirk at the purposeful, cautious touches on your side, trailing his gloved hand along the curve of your back as he leads you to the refresher, awakening thoughts more sinful than you suspect is his intention.

It’s then he tells you the time, but shares nothing else about why the ship is quiet.

“What about—”

“He’s asleep.”

Your mouth clamps shut, taking the clothes he hands you as you bury the rest of the questions. Each piece you slide on, you don’t shy away as he stands waiting. Letting him stare, letting him take in the sight of you in more light than he can when your bodies usually writhe.

Are you admiring me, Din? you want to ask. Do you feel the invisible string between us too?

Sometimes, you dislike that he told you the shade of his eyes, because you look for them. Peer through the visor with more hope than you’d allowed yourself to have before.

“Can you turn around?”

It should sound like a command, but his tone is softer, more brittle. Something unspoken within it, tightening around each letter, bending and forging with it—likely things he’ll never admit.

Still, you obey. Closing your eyes as you feel him behind you, his presence crowding and looming—recollecting when he’d been barer than he is now, draped over you.

If you will it enough, you swear you can feel his breath fluttering over your shoulder—remembering how he makes you feel full and sated, content and happy. The last time, you’d been in a haze, fucked out, blissfully aware of the naked fingers resting at the base of your neck as you came down and the way he had tilted your head back and swallowed your whine like he knew it belonged to him.

You do, you think, belong to him.

Not because he has taken, but because he has earned—he has proven. A thing which rises to the tip of your tongue and sears alongside the other words which linger and ferment.

“Trust me,” he says.

Not a question, but an ask. And you don’t mean to, but an unintentional gasp escapes at the feel of the soft, smooth fabric when it slides over your eyes. Light fades as though he clicks his fingers, blanketing you in night in the middle of the day as it tightens around your head—rendering you quiet, shyer, almost smaller, as your sense is removed, willingly given but taken all the same.

Then you stand, breath hitching, anticipation threading through your veins as you wait. For him to move, to speak, to do. Each second stretches into eternity, making a protest wish to appear. A change of mind, a declaration of wishing to do something else, than this.

But, you don’t speak it. Instead, dancing your fingers against the tops of your thighs, waiting, not patiently, but not rushing.

“Relax.”

You snort to smother the shiver that darts down your spine at his voice.

Unsure how one does such a thing when you hear the ramp going down, subtly listening to the sound of water running. You feel lost, adrift in a sea of darkness—of nothingness—with every fibre of your being yearning for a familiar anchor, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you fight the urge to whisper his name into the void, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the engulfing uncertainty.

Din, you think.

Wondering if he can hear his name in your mind. If he’ll come to your calling, hold your hand; allow you to ask if this is necessary, if this—

“Breathe.”

And you do.

Chest filling, lungs flooding—his gloved fingers sliding between your bare ones, rooting you as he repeats it. Calmness spreads through you inch by inch, in the same way he makes pleasure surge through your muscles.

He gives you a minute, a moment. Likely waiting until your head turns in the direction you think he’s in, before he leads, offering stony orders to be careful—one that almost makes you grin until your steps take your soles to meet something softer than his ship.

The smell greets you first. It’s crisp and sweet—unlike anything you’ve encountered. Then the drizzle, how it forces your clothing to bind to your skin in a way that should feel suffocating, but instead feels freeing. Lips beginning to stretch, teeth showing as your cheeks ache with the intensity of your grin.

It’s then you feel him move behind you, the squelch of his boots signifying it. His chest meets your spine, the ghost of his touch along the side of his neck, before you feel the fabric over your eyes, loosen and light begins to seep in.

Then, it goes from nothing to everything. It being almost too much to take in all at once—the unveiled surprise, the thing he’d wanted you to see in its wonder and not in pieces as you descended.

And—

“It’s beautiful.”

It being the delicate blooms that stretch out before you. Each one a mysterious burst of colour against a backdrop of greenery. Vibrant splashes of colour, all wild and free, rising from the ground like the scenes from books you used to read. With each sway and ripple in the breeze, you spot more flowers. All of them stirred by the falling rain, watching each motion, all in awe; lost for words.

Distantly, you become aware that he’s moved to the side of you, but you’re unable to tear your eyes from the world. Not able to take your sight from the striking array of hues, every colour flower you think you could ever imagine swaying. Because there are iridescent blues and purples; there are some that glow with luminous gold and reds that look stained with blood. Shares you can’t even name, but are drawn to, reluctant to steal your gaze until you spot another.

Fingers reaching out, knee bending, you touch one, find it softer, more delicate than you ever thought. Tears springing to your eyes, chest swarmed with warmth as you admire the way the stems twist and spiral in graceful arcs, all beaded with the sparkling mist that continues to fall.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…”

Words fail you, a thing you’re not sure he could ever believe.

The only conscious thought is that you wish to live amongst them. No words exist that can describe how serene you feel; how as wild or as drenched as the petals you admire.

Because it’s then you really notice the rain, coming to sit amongst the living and the flowers. Ground soaked with it, it falling in torrents. Each droplet is a percussion against your skin, seeping through the layers and soaking you to the bone.

It's a different kind of loveliness. It’s all free, raw and unyielding, a mosaic of shades that aren't bowing or converting into a glistening canvas of liquid silver—even if the skies try to.

In truth, you thought you’d seen rain. But this is something different.

It is more akin to the sky having been ripped open, split in two, cracked, all but pouring its tears upon the land in a symphony of water and wind. Your fingers dig into the dirt, feeling his equally soaked thigh press against yours as he joins you, feeling him watching, studying, even if you can't see his eyes.

“My mom used to say that a flower sprouts when a person leaves us,” you say, soft, barely your normal volume. “I always wondered where they did—I guess I know now.”

Shifting, you peel your sight from the flowers to see his legs extended, his body so close to yours. So much so, it would be easy to lean into it. Into him. To press your drenched clothing against his equally drowned frame, seek warmth, and take what he will offer you in the brightness of the day.

“Din,” you continue, tuning in to the gruff noise he makes for you to continue, as you move your shoulder closer.

His head turns, the front of his helmet facing you.

Allowing you to see a bead slide gracefully down the silver, moving like a serene symphony—as others fall, and then another. All being left by the sky above, weaving paths you wish to trace with your fingers.

You shouldn’t, but you want to wipe each away with your touch, rest your palms against the places his cheeks should be and will your hands to remember the warmth you know they can be.

“Can you remember the last time you felt the rain on your bare skin?”

Silence. Rain slides against leaves before rolling down to the soil below. The sound increases and decreases in odd waves as the storm tries to square itself against the sun, against the blossoms which rise like an army unwilling to cower.

“No.”

His reply is rough, croaked out through the modulator—caked in openness you’re not sure he wishes to show.

And, it makes a memory resurface. Sharp and clear. The first time you’d felt him unmasked, the vulnerability etched into his features—frame tense, rigid. Nervousness flowed through him as easily as the blood that races. How you’d kissed him, felt his cracked lips gain confidence against yours as his muscles rippled under your palms.

In a different way than then, you reached out, offered comfort—providing something you’re not sure he easily is given.

“A person could get lost here,” you sigh, the words practically tumbling out.

A stillness follows, one only punctuated by the rain. That is, until he shifts, until you hear him exhale, before adding, “Not you.”

Dragging your eyes from the landscape, you watch as more droplets slide and skate down his helmet, against his armour. Desperate to cling. It’s nothing but mesmerising, making him appear like he’s made of the sky. Reflections of the flowers there, muted shades mirroring.

“No?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just one. “Wouldn’t let you. I’d find you.”

Smirking, you turn back to the view. “You’re good at that—practically a professional.”

He allows a beat, lets your shoulder settle against him—the heels of your boots digging into the ground of this place, hoping a little bit clings on and comes with you.

“I’d look for you.”

Breaking your gaze from the flowers and the falling rain, you rest them on his helmet. On him. On the space you think the brown eyes he’s told you about are currently watching you.

It’s slow to appear, taking its time to spread up into your cheek as the implication of his words ring out. Look, not find; search but not hunt.

“I wouldn’t run to begin with.”

You feel it, the shift, slight tilt of his head at your words.

And you swear you hear him breathe good, light almost airy—before gloved fingers find their way between yours again. Soaked, sodden. But neither moving as seconds become minutes.

“Cyar'ika?”

You hum, preening, almost blooming under the name he’s just begun using. Nestling further against him, watching the flowers sway and turn in the rain before his gloved hands come in front of you—a bunch of flowers held out to you, offered, given.

“My hair is brown too.”

You smile, taking the bunch, bringing them to your nose. “That’s nice to know.”

[lottiecrabie]

anatomy – matty healy

matty is supposed to tutor you in biology, but there’s another subject you’re much more interested in…

or tutor!au <3

tags: 18+, oral sex, unprotected sex, dry humping, dom/sub undertones, choking, cumplay, virgin!matty, freaky little loser guy

6802 words

You sit on top of the sheets of your bed, ankles crossed. You pop your bubblegum, flipping boredly through your Cosmo. Lipsticks, perfectly preened women, and the top ten sex tips flip in front of your eyes. You halt at the horoscope, indulgently checking yours. You’re not superstitious: it’s just that anything is better than this godforsaken lesson. 

“And, you see, the specific shape of the active site of an enzyme enables it to function,” Matty drawls on, unfaltered by your clear disinterest. Maybe he doesn’t see; his nose is pulled tightly in his book. “It’s— It’s really a simple understanding of 'lock and key'. You can think of enzyme activity as molecular collisions resulting in the formation of enzyme-substrate complexes.” All the terms blur together in your mind. In one ear, transformed and decorated by the pretty pink things on your page, then out the other. 

You almost feel bad for Matty, pushed into your room by your parents with pleading, desperate eyes to make you learn something. He sits at your desk while you distract yourself with whatever is more interesting which, as it so happens, is almost everything. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t say much to you other than hey and a string of jargon you don’t care to understand. It’s not like your bitchy, unimpressed stare is very welcoming. 

Matty has this nervous, twitchy energy about him. He stutters through half of his sentences, pushing his glasses up his nose, searching for the fixed point in his book he lost. He swallows thickly, starts again. An awkward, limby thing. 

Really, it’s a shame he wears all those nerdy shirts and drowning clothes, as well as those horrendous thick, square glasses. If you assess him objectively enough, he could be quite pretty. He’s lean, with a cutting jaw, and adorable curly hair. Girls would look away a flutter of red flags if it meant birthing kids with those traits. 

You sigh, pushing the Cosmo off your bed, rolling to your belly. You rest your chin on your crossed arms, eyeing Matty. He gives you a look at the shifting noise, rounding his eyes as they fall on the stripe of skin your loose lounging shorts have revealed in the crossfire. It’s barely a few centimeters of your asscheeks, but Matty blushes all the same, flipping back to his book as though burned. You smirk. Interesting.

“Matty,” you trail lightly, the cadence of a song. 

You found your bright new, shining distraction. Your smile is vicious and dangerous, ready to bite, to gnaw to the bone. 

Matty looks up at you, incertain. You rarely address him during your tutoring lessons. You’re not even sure you’ve said his name before, at least not to him. “I’m bored with biology,” you declare, artfully pouty and dejected. 

“Oh,” he says. He swallows thickly. Flips through his book. His nervous tics make him all the more tantalizing to you. Some cruel need to toughen him up. “Um—”

You lick your teeth, grinning. “I want to study anatomy.”

Matty laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That’s not in the syllabus.” There’s something about his total misunderstanding of your line that makes the need frizzle inside of you. An innocent little thing, to pick and devour through. 

You sit up, resting your weight on your heels. Your knees part suggestively, the loose shorts riding up your thighs. Your crop top sits up your ribs. Belly button piercing winks at him. Matty takes in the sight, face pale. You grin, victorious.  

“I didn’t mean that anatomy,” you say, teasing. You rest a hand loosely on your leg, purposefully dragging his stare down to it. Your pink nails flash against your skin. 

“Oh.” He swallows thickly, hypnotized by the soft flesh of your thighs. “I—” He shakes his head, as if to draw himself out of the daydream. “I, um—” He repeats, then laughs, “What?”

You sigh, kneeling up and getting off the bed. Your bare feet wiggle in the fuzzy, pink carpet. You prowl to him, predator-like. His breath hitches in his throat, right where you want it. 

“Matty,” you sing, and he chokes at the sound. Just his name drives him wild— good to know. You get close enough to lean on the desk, to tower over him. He blinks up at you, robbed of speech. You flutter your eyelashes at him. “Are you a virgin?” 

His lips part in surprise, but he doesn’t answer. Not that he needs to; the fucking sight of him is enough to know. It’s about the fun of watching him stumble, stutter, push his little glasses up his nose, telltale signs you revel in. 

You sit on the desk, bunching his careful notes. You trail two fingers up his shoulder, that awful cheap plaid. You almost resent the feel of it on your skin, if not for the way he shivers. 

You pout mockingly at him, stopping where the collar of his shirt meets the skin of his neck. “Are you gonna answer me?” 

“Yeah— yes.” You run your fingertips on his neck, a grazing touch that has him staring up at you in devotion. You smirk. 

“Have you ever been touched like this?” You run your thumb to the other side of his neck, a strong path. You want him to feel it, until your hand stretches over his throat, possessive. 

He swallows under your palm, Adam’s apple bobbing on your fortune-telling palm lines. “No,” he admits quietly. You feel it resonate more than you hear it. 

You hum, silently thrilled. “And have you ever been kissed?” You whisper. 

Matty stares up at you. He waits a second, two— takes his time. “No.” You smirk. You pick your gum between two fingers, pressing it into the corner of his notes. Perfect. 

It’s a little awkward, of course, because you’re perched on the desk and he’s sitting all the way down on his chair, gripping its arms. But, still, you bend down and kiss him square on the mouth. 

He gasps against you, freezing there. You’re undeterred; you kiss and kiss him, smearing your strawberry lipgloss, until he snaps into action and kisses you back. It’s a rhythmless, artless thing.

He doesn’t know how to kiss. 

What he lacks in technique, he makes up in eagerness, opening his mouth and licking a wet tongue into yours. You giggle a little, taste the Sour Patch kids he nervously ate from his bag between two scientific words you purposefully didn’t remember. You press at his throat, just so he’s as breathless as you are. He moans against your lips, panting. 

Matty doesn’t dare touch. His body is fixed to the desk chair, letting himself be kissed, taking only what you are willing to offer. He sits there like you are breathing life into his mouth, eating and eating and never asking for more. It’s what makes you want to give him more. 

You pull away from him, straightening like a queen taking her throne. Under you, the pages wrinkle and ruffle, and he doesn’t even care. His lips are swollen and pink, shiny from the lipgloss. Breaths puff out from there, pulling attention. 

“You’re kinda pretty,” you admit lowly, like a secret he should know. 

“Thanks,” Matty flushes. 

You release his throat, wiping your pink gloss off his lips. They part instinctively. You smile, slipping your thumb inside. He sucks the strawberry, warm tongue on your fingerprint. Power loosens your head.

“Do you want me?” You ask, as though his mouth drooling around your thumb wasn’t indication enough. You want the words; you want the worship. 

“Yeth,” he says, choking on your finger. You smile, taking it out and drying it on his cheek.

You don’t make a big show of taking your shirt off. Your hands are at the hem of your baby tee, then it’s off your shoulders, thrown on the pink carpet. Matty whines, surprised and overwhelmed, throwing a furtive glance at the cracked door of your bedroom. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand. Soft and weak; he hasn’t worked a day in his life. It’s slack between your fingers. He lets you puppeteer it to your breasts, lets you grope yourself with him as an instrument. 

He makes another small noise from the back of his throat, staring at the fucking sight like he can’t quite believe it truly is his own hand. “God,” he mutters to himself, and it’s exactly how you feel. 

“Say thank you,” you taunt him, because you know he will. 

Like clockwork, Matty revels, “Thank you.” Growing bold, he rubs a thumb over your hard nipple, a tough callus you didn’t expect on the tip of it. It makes you moan; a crack in your spotless armor, but he doesn’t even notice. Too preoccupied with playing with your tits, pawing at it greedily. 

“Can I—” He flushes, shaking his head. 

“What?”

“Can I lick them?” A drop of heat strikes through you. You clench your thighs, arching your back into his readied palm. 

“Yes.” He leans in before you’ve finished the s, sucking your abandoned nipple into his mouth. He licks and rubs and pinches, raw skill pulling at your sensitive skin. You bite back groans, breathing harshly. Your chest rises and falls into his mouth, but he’s just as diligent. 

You rake a long-nailed hand into his hair, scratching his scalp with every particularly delicious lick. He moans at that, vibrating on your sensitive nipples. 

He sticks his tongue out, panting like a dog, dipping down to the valley of your tits and pressing a kiss, then climbing up a new breast. He bites gently, and you jump, surprised by his boldness. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. You don’t like this little switch-up in power. He’s supposed to be purring for you, enthrallment shining in his eyes. You tug on his hair, making him look at you. 

Matty stares up, dutiful. He doesn’t care about the power game; hasn’t even realized you were slipping. He takes what you give. 

You soothe away the sting of his hair. “Pretty boy,” you coo. Matty beams at that. “I want to hear you scream.”

With this, you jump off the desk, and kneel under it. 

“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide as he watches you fumble with his pants. You unbutton and unzip, fast and knowledgeable, dipping into his boxers— “Wait.”

You look up at him, inches from your goal. You cock your head, frowning. “What?”

“Just—” He pants, staring at you. “Just give me a second.”

You hum, grazing a finger on the faint happy trail of his stomach. His belly sucks in. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” he says. “Yes. I don’t know.” He laughs. His hands still grip the armrests, white-knuckled. “Why are you doing this?” 

You shrug. “I want to.” You tip your head, kissing his soft hand. “Do you want me to?” 

“Well, yeah.”

You grin. “Relax.” Finally, your hand slips under his underwear, and you wrap around his hard length. He gasps, cold fingers against hot skin, fingers against him. 

His hips jump into your fist as you draw him out. Another nervous glance to the door, still half-opened. Your parents are somewhere in the house, pretending not to exist. You lick your lips.

You lightly scratch your pink nails against him. You run a thumb on his tip, smearing precum. He hisses, turning into a moan as you slowly drag your hand down. He’s frozen and tense, almost afraid of moving, as if that would make you go away. 

“Teach me,” you say. 

He blinks at you, dazed. “Huh?” 

Your eyes vaguely look up to the desk you hide under, biology notes in his scratchy writing laying wrinkled. “Biology. My parents are paying you for a reason, aren’t they?” 

“Oh—” He flushes, embarrassed. Pushes his glasses up. “Right, right.” His hands let go of the armrests, searching through the pages. You choose this moment to kiss the tip of his cock. He whimpers, shutting his eyes in pleasure. “Fuck.” You giggle, all too happy. 

He struggles to find where you disturbed him, biting his lip in comical concentration. You tease him, enjoying all the little breaths he chokes on, the soft sounds he tries to hide. Your hand pumps up and down, twisting at the wrist. 

You wonder how often he’s done this on himself, who he imagined between his legs. 

From now, it’ll be you. You’ll make sure of it. 

“Um, right, so,” Matty starts, out of breath. “In some reactions,” he continues arduously, “one substrate is broken down into multiple products. And—” Devilishly, you lick a stripe up his length. He groans, twitching on your tongue. “Shit,” he mutters. It’s funny coming from him; the swear rings wrong, like a costume. 

He drags his stare down, pulling away from his notes to watch you. You indulge him, parting your lips and wrapping them around his tip. You suck on it gently. His face wrinkles, a moan breaking from him. You pull your head down, swallowing him. He clutches at his papers, scrunching them himself. 

“Oh, God,” Matty says, trying to catch his breath as you bob your head. “I’m— Shit.” 

You let go of him with a wet pop, stroking him quickly. “Shh,” you tease him. “My parents.” Again, he throws a nervous look towards the door. 

Saliva and lipgloss and precum already lube him, but you keep your hand at his base as you spit on his cock. You drag it down his length. Matty’s eyes snap towards you. “Do that again.” He wants to see you.

You smirk, tilting your head to leave wet kisses up his cock, then lick his tip. You spit on it, and a low groan resonates from him. His hips rise up into your hand, but you push them down with your claws. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers from the back of his throat, melting on the chair. He likes it messy. You grin, peppering little kisses over his cock, smearing him in strawberry lipgloss. 

“What’s the other thing?” 

“Huh?” He blinks, tying himself back to reality. “Right, um, substrates. It’s—” Again, you choose this moment to push him down your throat. He loses speech, mumbling incoherent syllables, some broken version of your name. 

Though your head bobs quickly, pulling further and further down his length, twisting a stroking hand all the same, you pinch your nails at his hip. He jumps, struck out of the daze of pleasure, blinking down at you. 

“Yeah, it’s— The other reactions are—” You let go of his hip, pinching your own nipple instead. Matty whines, losing his train of thought. “You’re not being fair.”

You laugh, spitting him out to catch your breath. You grope yourself and he watches, not sure which hand to focus on. His cheeks are tinted red, maybe from effort, or adrenaline, or shyness. It’s cute enough to bite. 

Wonder shines in his eyes. He can’t believe this is happening; he’s eternally grateful, as he should be. As they all should have been, those faceless men you’ve blown in the bathrooms of parties for attention and a momentary stop to complete boredom. They stayed quiet, almost afraid to make noise, to show they enjoyed it, until they shook and spilled inside your mouth. Matty’s not afraid to moan. 

Your brain rushes, sticky happy. You pant on his cock, trailing a finger down your stomach, then dipping in your shorts. Matty’s eyes widen, straightening to catch a glimpse. You smile, catching a pool of your arousal. 

You come back up, fingers sticky and wet with your slick, and smear it on his cock. Matty scrunches his face, whimpering, shaking under your hands. 

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“Only because it’s easy,” you mock, jerking and twisting your two hands in rhythm, wet sounds ringing in the room. 

You free his cock, gripping the armrests of the chair instead. You wrap your mouth around it, and bend down until your nose touches the faint smatterings of dark hair on his belly. You gag on him, and he strangles the edge of the desk trying to kill his moans. 

You pump him in your mouth quickly, feeling him twitch and rise to meet you. He remembers himself, falling down on the chair dutifully, not even burying a needy hand in your hair, as though afraid that would be asking for too much. 

You drag up, making him hit the inside of your cheek, before releasing him. You spit the precum on him, blinking up through teary eyes. He doesn’t have any words, red swollen lip bitten raw. 

“I taste great,” you say, and then offer up your still-wet fingers to him. He’s eager, sucking them into his mouth. He bobs, imitating you, and the sight and feel makes hot desire drip inside of you. 

You want to squeeze him until he pops. 

You take his hand, pulling it into your hair. He grips instinctively, pushing it out of your face. “Don’t push,” you warn, serious. He nods frantically, and you trust him to mean it. 

You take him into your mouth for what you know is the final time. You’re certain he won’t last long, droopy and moaning and twitching, hissing every time your tongue runs on him. You bob with skill and precision still. He tugs at your hair, both hands in now, trembling in the mess of it. He never pushes, or fucks his hips up; trusts you to undo him yourself. 

He swears and curses and whimpers, head falling down and back, vacillating between the sky and your red, puffy face. The sink is heard from faraway, but you don’t think he can even hear it. 

“I'm dreaming,” he whispers to himself, sounding wild. “I’m gonna wake up. I’m gonna be— I’m gonna—” Matty cries, slapping a hand over his mouth, and comes down your throat. He shakes, loud moans hidden in his palm, eyes shut and forehead wrinkled. 

He lets go of your hair with a fucked-out sigh, panting. His eyes never leave you, disbelief written all over it. You pull him out of your throat, and smile at him. 

You’re about to swallow when he touches your arm, unsure of where he’s allowed to now. “Wait, can you—” He grows embarrassed, blushing. “Can you open your mouth?”

You part your lips, showing off his white cum still sitting on your tongue. He whimpers at the sight, fingers digging into your arm. His breathing turns irregular, cheeks reddening, eyes darkening. He’s so strange. 

Still, you stick your tongue out, putting his load in evidence, making a spectacle of it. He looks tortured, enthralled. 

You stay long enough that you feel it run down, long white rope hanging from your tongue, then dropping on your breast. 

“Fuck,” Matty whispers to himself. Seemingly without thinking, he runs his thumb on your breast, catching his cum and sucking it between his lips. 

You smile, slurping the cum back into your mouth, and swallowing it. You flash your red tongue at him. “All clean.”

“Thank you,” Matty says. “I— I’m not sure why you did that, but— I, you know, appreciate it.” He’s so polite. You’d laugh if he wouldn’t snap back into that little head box of his. 

“I’m very thankful for all those lessons,” you wink.

“No, you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not.” Matty’s finger rubs the skin of your arm, that strangely tough callus, and it has you leaning into his touch. “Though, this has been my favorite lesson.” 

“God, I couldn’t even get a word out.”

“Hence why.”

Matty snorts and he offers you a hand. You grab it to manœuvre out from under the desk. You push your sweaty hair out of your face, then wipe the leftover stickiness from your breasts. 

Matty, of course, follows the movement to your tits. He swallows. “Do you, um,” he pushes his glasses up. “Do you want, like, something back?” 

You arch an eyebrow, incapable of holding a small giggle this time. “Do you know how?”

He stares into your eyes. “I could try.”

And, again, there’s just something about his eagerness, his willingness, his open devotion, that has you saying, “Yeah, I guess you could try.”

You tiptoe to your bedroom door, looking left and right into the hallway, before quietly shutting it. You turn around to a displeased Matty. “Oh, so you get to have it closed?” 

“‘S more fun when you’re struggling,” you shrug, devilish. You run to the bed, falling on the pillows, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Come here, pretty boy.” He practically trips out of his chair to find you. He’s three steps in when you stop him. “Take your clothes off.”

He grows shy under your gaze. Staying in place, fingers shaking, he starts to unbutton his plaid shirt. He kicks off his sneakers and his baggy jeans until he stands there in his boxers. He’s as scrawny as you imagined him to be. You smile. 

Matty crosses his arms. “Can I see you, too?” He whispers.

You shimmy your shorts off your legs and throw it beyond the bed. Matty’s stare stutters on your pink thong, wet patch where your desire pooled. 

You draw a hand towards him and he takes it, falling over you on the bed. He doesn’t waste time, giving you a sloppy kiss before mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, your tits. He laps at them first and you wonder if he’s trying to get the last lingering taste of his cum. He catches a nipple next and sucks it. 

Gaspy moans leave your lips. You part your legs instinctively and he buries between them, already hardening. His cock hits your thigh and he sucks and pinches and plays until you start thinking he might really be able to try. 

Your hands descend down his back, freckled under your nails. You grip his small waist, pushing at his hip, the hem of his boxers. Matty understands, leaving you long enough to kick them off. He pants in front of you, leaning back already, wet, swollen mouth parted. 

Matty lays over you again and his hard cock presses into your need. You scratch your nails up his back and he jerks, bucking into you. A moan leaves both your mouths. He tries again, artless, just off your clit. 

“Oh,” he whispers, mostly to himself. He does it again, building and building heat inside of you, yet never relieving. 

You huff. You sneak a hand between your bodies, moving your thong aside until he slips under it. 

Another boy would have taken the opportunity, would have buried inside before you even had time to nod, but Matty doesn’t even think of it. 

He humps your wet cunt, tucked tight under your underwear, hem pressing his length. Matty moans every time, quickening, desperate. He tilts his hand to better see as his cock bulges the cloth, a wet patch forming where his precum stains. 

“Fuck.”

And it’s better; he’s faster, and firmer, and mostly there. He follows your little puffs of shameful breaths, staying where they transform into slack moans. Pleasure starts waking up inside your belly, sickly warm. 

But you’ve had boys hump at you before, had them bucking between your legs. You know it’s not what will get you off. You need your mind stimulated, to be so thoroughly hot and desperate you finally let yourself go. 

You pinch the nape of his neck, making him look at you. A slack, messy smirk lays on your lips. You tease, “Have you ever thought of me during our tutoring sessions?” 

Matty’s hips stutter. He looks away. “Like…”

“Yeah, like, on my knees.”

Matty blushes. “Well, yeah.” 

You grin, too pleased. A deadly smile, hunting. “When?”

“I don’t know…” He mutters. You scowl to yourself, and maybe he senses that, because his chin grazes your shoulder and he admits shamefully, “When you ate that popsicle. And you licked and you slurped and you sucked and, just— I’m a guy. I had visions.” 

“I had visions.” You imitate, mocking. You tsk, “You're such a nerd.” You roll your hips back against him and a whimper buries in the skin of your shoulder. “Was it how you imagined?”

“Better.” He nods fervently. “So much fucking better. I actually died, I think. Still unsure whether I’m dead or not.” Pride and power makes your head loose, makes pleasure ripple through your flesh. 

You claw at his skin, warning dangerously, “Tell anyone and you will be.” All it does is make him moan, bucking faster against you. Your toes curl. You breathe in his ear, “Tell me more.” 

“I, uh— Shit.” The tip of his cock burrows in your underwear as he slides, wet and slick from you. He shivers over you. “I’d think about— bending you over the desk.” 

Your smile ghosts your face, grazing his soft, fresh cheek. “Really?”

“Just, you know, when you wouldn’t listen. And you’d pop that chewing gum, and you’d ignore me, and you’d be mean.”

You smirk, clicking your tongue. “So you wanted to, what, toughen me up? Take your revenge?”

His cheeks redden. “No.” His lips brush your shoulders, and he kisses, opposite. “I don’t know. I wanted you to pay attention.” He licks your neck. “I wanted to make you scream.” Mouths at your jaw. “I wanted to fuck you. Or for you to fuck me— I wanted you.”

You can’t believe you’re now the one blushing. You pant, glad he’s buried in your throat, that he can’t see. A moan slips from you as he nips gently at your skin. Your eyes roll in your skull. 

“You like when I’m mean to you?” You tease meanly, out of breath. You scratch his back, burying your hand in his hair, and tugging until he looks you in the eyes. “Gets you all bothered?” 

Matty shivers, whining, “Fuck, please—” 

You push him onto his back, rolling over. Two hands press into his chest, and you might very well concave his ribcage. You stare him down, divine. “You wanted me to fuck you?” 

His messy, unbrushed hair falls around his head like a halo. He’s sweet enough to make your head spin. He watches you openly behind the glass of his specs, breathing, “Yes.”

You trail your fingernails on his hard cock, down to his base. “And now?”

Devoting, “Yes.”

A rush of thrill fills you. You kneel up, shimmying your underwear off. Matty gasps at the sight, raking a hungry gaze up and down your body. He holds the sheets of your bed with white-knuckled fingers. 

You waste no time, rocking your cunt against his tip once, twice, before slowly lowering yourself on him. You inhale at the stretch. Matty’s eyes shut, whining. “Look at me,” you order, and he listens. 

His eyes flash open. He blinks at you as you bottom out. His head rolls, shaking. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” You go to move up, but he holds your hip down. He takes deep breaths. “Can we— Just, this is—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand and placing it over the regular beating of your heart. He thumbs your nipple while he’s there, breathing in sync with your pulse. You slowly roll your hips on him. 

Matty moans, gripping the flesh of your thigh. You let him adjust to the feel of it, rocking softly, dragging your clit on his pelvis. You bite your lip raw as pleasure blooms inside of you. Your thighs ache to go faster, harder, but you maintain the delicate pace for him. Just that has him shaking under you, and you once again grip his hand over your heart to ground him. 

“Sorry,” he says with an embarrassed laugh. “Fuck,” is immediately added when you circle your hips, his eyes rolling. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you order. “What are the other reactions?” You say, attempting to drag him out of his anxiety-filled head. He frowns at you. “Of enzymes.”

His lips part. “I didn’t know you knew that term.” 

You roll your eyes, then your hips, euphoria fizzling under your skin. “I listen to you.” His unconvinced look betrays him. “Sometimes.”

“They’re, um— Shit. They come together to create one— fuck, one larger molecule or—” You finally rock faster, angling your hips to have him bury inside you right where you need him. You moan, chest rising and falling quickly. Your legs grow desperate; you chase that sickly pleasure. 

“Yeah?” You encourage him on, seeing his own pleasure resonate in his face. He bites his lip, pawing uselessly at your thigh. “Or?” You’re out of breath. 

“Or swap pieces,” he finally finishes between two moans. Chuckles, “Actually, pretty much all biological reactions you can think of probably—” Your hips fall harsher on him and he loses his train of thought, overwhelmed. You smile, setting a wild pace, completely unfair. 

“Probably what?” You say, teasing, “I’m always thinking about biological reactions.”

“Don’t tease,” he pouts, and you slow down your thrusts just to spite him. He whines, pressing his short fingernails into the skin of your thigh. 

“Come on.” You make him look you in the eyes, mocking, “Educate me.”

“They all have enzymes,” Matty finally finishes. You reward him by reaching down and pinching his nipple. He whimpers, cursing your name. “Why have you suddenly decided to be a good student?” 

“‘Cause you’re adorable when you’re struggling to find words,” you answer honestly. You hold your weight up on the hand pressed into his chest, angling your hips until your clit rubs and rubs his pelvis. Your eyes roll, fucking him quicker. “Fuck. I love when I can make you all stupid for me.” The power in changing up his DNA composition, making a smart boy incapable of remembering all the jargon you yourself don’t know, is addictive. Undoing him block by block until he’s putty in your hands. Matty just moans, not arguing. 

Sweat pearls his forehead. The white sheets make him angelic. He breathes your name, fluttering his eyelashes at you. “Can I try on top?” Maybe it’s because he looks so reverent, so innocent, that you nod. 

Matty doesn’t push you and roll you over, instead staying there, as though waiting for it to just magically happen. You giggle to yourself, unmounting him and falling back on the mattress, legs parted. He swallows thickly, laying over you. 

His glasses fall down his nose and you laugh, grabbing them and carefully placing them on your nightstand. He blinks, adjusting to the blurry sight. 

His hand shakes as he grabs himself and lines up. He misses once, twice, until you rest a soothing hand on his and guide him. Matty moans in your hair as he slides in. He stays in your wet heat for a second, catching his breath, before he thrusts. 

And it’s bad, of course. He doesn’t have any rhythm, bucking blindly inside of you. It’s a strange pace, irregular and powerless. He certainly can’t find any type of mindnumbing spot. Pleasure simmers lowly in your belly, heat turned off almost to nothing if it weren’t for the pretty moans that bury straight in your ear. 

You grab his hip, making Matty look at you. “Start slow,” you instruct, guiding him. He follows the movements of your hand, rocking back and forth, slow but regular. “There,” you nod, arching your back. “Just, tilt—” He repositions himself, eager to learn, and you shudder. You call his name, syrupy with moans. 

He’s a fast learner, following diligently the guidings of your gripping hand. He fucks into you slowly, but surely. Your toes curl. Pleasure wakes up again, coiling in your belly. “Like this?” He breathes. You nod, encouraging him on. 

“It’s like I’m tutoring you,” you remark, chuckling to yourself. Matty snorts. “I like being the smart one for once.”

Matty frowns. “You’re always smart.” He says it without thinking, because he means it. Something wet chokes your throat, tugs at your lips. “You just don’t listen.”

“Would you like me to?” You say, tone taunting. A self-destroying instinct, telling you to hurt, to ruin. “Make me your little pet? Be all obedient? Have me sucking your cock while you tell me all about biology?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Do you want me to do that?” All your bullets don’t land. He’s unconcerned on what he wants. You huff.

Instead of reckoning, you order, “Faster, now.” Matty nods against your cheek. He obeys, thrusting quicker. You let go of his hip, climbing up his back just to rake your nails down it. His hips snap faster, harsher, endeavored. You grin, licking his jaw, kissing the bone. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, catching your lips and kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him there as he ruts between your legs. You swallow all the sounds he makes, kill the swears you think of saying. Euphoria washes you. 

He leaves your lips just to smack wet kisses over your face, again and again. On your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin. He mouths down your throat, starts sucking and nipping at the side. You bury a hand into his hair, pushing him further down. “Not the neck,” you explain, breathy. 

Matty finds the side of your tits and he buries there, sucking at your skin. You arch into his mouth, pleasure rushing up your side at the pinpricks of pain. He moans against you, bucking faster. Your mind spins and spins. “Matty.” Again, he speeds up, harsh and wild. “Fucking hell, Matty.” 

You tug at his hair and he releases you, lips wet and swollen. He pants over you, eyes dazed with pleasure. A new wave of heat strikes you just from the sight of him, unmade and wild. You sneak a hand between your bodies. You find your clit easily, rubbing. 

Matty’s head drops to watch you. He whines, seeing where he disappears inside of you, over and over, where your pink nails swipe at you. 

He leans his weight on one arm, joining his own hand with yours. You’re surprised at the act, at the willingness of involving himself in the complicated business of your pleasure. Your fingers stop, resting up on your stomach. 

He paws blindly at your cunt, just a little off where you need him. You grip his wrist, angling him at the right place, gently circling and swiping with his finger. The callus presses on your clit and it’s a delicious sensation. You roll your eyes, crying out, then slapping your palm over your mouth. Matty grins proudly, continuing to rub at you. 

“This is good, right?” He whispers, pretty eyes all vulnerable on you. 

You nod frantically. “Yes. It’s good.” You melt on the sheets, parting your legs further. “It’s really good.” His cheeks flush at the compliment. You wrap your hand around his throat, resting there with silent ownership. “Did you ever think it’d be me?” 

Matty chokes on a laugh and a moan. “No. I never thought you’d ever even give me a look.” 

You hum, pleased with the answer. He realizes it’s a privilege. You grin, pressing your fingers on the sides of his neck. His hips stutter, then snap even faster, a broken cry leaving him. His lips part in quiet ecstasy. His eyes shut,  rapid movement behind his eyelids. 

You grin at him. “Say thank you, pretty boy.” 

You release him, at least giving him a chance. He falls into your shoulder, taking deep inhales, shaking. “Thank you,” he says, mumbly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You rake through his hair, soothing. “Aw, fuck, I’m gonna—” He twitches inside of you. 

“Not inside!” You shout. Matty gasps, thrusting out of you. He cries as he comes on your navel and cunt. He catches his breath, blinking himself back to this reality, still shaking. 

“Sorry,” he says, shortwinded. A pang of disappointment hits you. It’s not like you’ve ever come with someone else before, but it had felt really close this time. 

At least Matty tried. 

Matty watches his cum painted over your skin, catching your piercing, mixing with the slick of your cunt. He moans to himself, then bends down between your thighs. 

You rest on your elbows, frowning. “What—” He licks a stripe over your cunt, tasting both your juices. Euphoria strikes through you. Your back hits the mattress as you fall back, legs shaking. “Matty.” He hums, faraway, licking and licking to clean you all up. You bury a hand in his hair, grounding him in place. 

He finds your clit, rubbing it with the tip of his tongue, circling then sucking it. You jolt on the bed, biting back a scream. You frown to yourself, tugging on his hair, fire boiling inside your stomach. What the fuck. 

He laps at you, moaning every time your nails scratch his scalp, the sound vibrating against you. A hand wraps around your thigh, keeping you open for him. He devours you eagerly, hungrily, until you’re a mess melting into his mouth. 

“God, Matty,” you cry. You have to actually hold back another one with a slap of your hand, shocked at yourself as you scream into your palm. 

Matty stops, breathing harshly, and you throw a glance down in question. He climbs up your stomach, lapping at your skin, cleaning the last of his cum. You whimper at the dirty sight, desire drumming down your limbs. 

He throws you a hot look. Tongue out, full of white cum. He goes back between your legs and buries it in your cunt, fucking it in. You jump, cursing to the ceiling. Matty laughs, greedily tasting you. 

You roll your hips into his face, hitting the tip of his nose on your clit. Every strike has ecstasy resonating in your bones. You feel light on your bones. 

His lips wrap around your clit. He sucks, grazing a tongue, swiping and circling like you showed him. You recognize the same pattern, recognize the rhythm. Of course he’s a fast learner. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, choked by your hand. You raise your hips into his mouth, silently begging. Your legs shake, desperate. Pressure pushes at your belly. Your eyes roll. “Don’t stop.”

He mumbles something in your cunt, probably a promise or a praise, dutifully not stopping. He laps and eats and fucks until your brain melts into your skull, dripping down your spine. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m—” Your head shakes fervently. “Just stay— Shit, Matty, just— I—” The pressure snaps and you come on his readied tongue, screaming. Hot white flashes in your vision. Relief washes you, dipping to every crevices, relaxing you. He moans against your cunt. 

Matty continues to lick you, mission-bound, until your lungs are on fire and you physically push him away. He smiles up at you, chin sticky and wet and red. He wipes it, kneeling. 

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” You say, shortwinded, shocked to your bones. You stare at him like he’s grown a second head. 

It’s the first time someone other than your knowing hand made you come. And it’s fucking Matty Healy. You blink at him. 

“What?” He laughs, falling beside you on the bed. 

You gesture vaguely downwards. “That.”

“Oh,” he blushes. Shrugs. “I don’t know. I researched it once.”

“You— Oh, my God.” You stare at the ceiling in disbelief. “Oh, my God. You’re such a nerd.”

Matty grins, cheekily proud. He gently grazes the bruise he left on your breast, the splotch of red that will darken, be a leftover trace of him. 

“Thanks,” he says simply. 

“You’re welcome.” You shift your legs, feeling the wetness still between them. “Thanks to you too, I guess.” He grins, hiding in the white pillows. 

He gives you a look. “Will you listen when I tutor you now?” 

You smirk mischievously. “Maybe if you have my fingers in your mouth.”

“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide. “Will you— Will this happen again?”

You make a noncommittal shrug, though a more definite answer hums in your heart. “Maybe if you’re really good.” You smile to yourself. “Or really boring, and I need to shut you up.”

“You can shut me up any day.”

“I know.” You linger in that moment for just a second more, eyes locked together, smiles tickling your lips. Then you sit up, reaching for your underwear. “Session’s almost done.” 

Matty nods, lips thin. “Right.” He pats the nightstand for his glasses.  

You dress yourselves, wiping away sweat and cum, brushing wild strands. You give an awkward goodbye, incertain, and Matty slips from the room. You don’t follow him to the door. You never do. 

Downstairs, you hear your parents thank him and give him a crisp 50 dollar bill. You giggle to yourself and fall on the bed, bone-deep exhausted. 

[yuoimia]

WELCOME TO MY HEART

summary: how has loving you changed him?

characters: neuvillette, alhaitham, diluc, xiao. (seperate)

notes: gn! reader, fluff, getting poetic in xiao, weird time skips. wc: 2k!

neuvillette

Hesitancy lingers like a translucent mist around Neuvillette. Thick, but also not thick enough to be indiscernible. As centuries tick by, soon enough, that protective mist wanes into nothing but a fragile facade that threatens to vaporise. That outcome is most unfavourable; simply visualising it already causes a spike in distress in his chest.

Fast forward a few 'scenic meetings’ later, Neuvillette wonders where that mist disappeared off to.

He needn’t put up a missing poster with a contact number because, shockingly, the Chief Justice no longer desired that prudential coverage.

You evaporated Neuvillette’s final layer of defence, stripped his rationality with unwavering strength of character, and erased any uneasiness within the language of love.

Throughout your shared timeline, every point marked with a memorable moment, there are many small aspects about each other that only the continuation of time can reveal. It’s as sweet as it sounds, unless, well, the other finds out about something you did try to conceal.

Sometimes you think to yourself: Who knew the Monsieur Neuvillette could be so…earnest in seeing you flustered?

Truly, there are only very few opportunities Neuvillette would starve himself from such delight. The other times, though, they consist of your rose-tinted cheeks and his charmed chuckle, florid promises ending with a trail of marks of his love down the slope of your neck.

Neuvillette is quite the bold one. Far too cheeky for his own good, really.

alhaitham

It was a warm memory. Still as vivid as ever, despite the years that have passed. A golden tattoo, activated whenever the dazzling drops of summer sunshine radiated down.

Three years ago, summer, the Akedemiya.

Heatwaves weren’t a rare occurrence in Sumeru. For weeks on end, the city of wisdom experienced boiling highs and dry, scorching winds. The streets were empty as shopkeepers resorted to staying under the cool of shaded roofs. That was the correct response, the only response to such situations.

Yet, there were still people willing to test your limited patience even more.

“We’re going to get a heatstroke,” you explained to each member of your darshan. “We can postpone the field trip to the desert some other day.”

“But this weather is indefinite, and knowing Sumeru, it is going to last a very long time. We can’t afford to waste time,” someone argued as nods of agreement travelled across the table.

Wow, you huffed to yourself, sitting yourself down. You were doing this for their own good, and partly yours.

“We should go ahead with the trip,” said the agitating, raucous noise again as a cacophony of voices arose in agreement. Maybe he should be in charge, then. As if you wanted to cancel this trip, you’ve spent endless nights planning the perfect itinerary! Also, the last time you remembered, you were appointed leader of this whole excursion.

“Facing the facts, there’s no traces of concrete evidence that our planned area holds the ruins,” you declared as the table fell silent. “Theoretically, we have more to lose than gain.”

“We’ve already decided,” came another voice. Archons, these people were going to be the end of you. “We’re still going to go next week.”

You came to the conclusion that, to knock some sense into their brains, you needed someone more intimating to interfere.

“…You want me to be pretend to collapse from a severe heatstroke?” the (acting!) grand sage repeated, not even attempting to conceal his bewilderment. “And, preferably, making it look as dramatic and exaggerated as possible?”

At the other end of his desk, you nodded with faux solemnity. “I’m afraid so.”

“Afraid so?” Alhaitham humours. “Everything from your…request to your actions betrays that.”

In the end, you didn’t manage to convince Alhaitham to put on a show showcasing the risks and dangers of heatwaves and heatstrokes, but he did agree to go out for lunch. To negotiate alternatives, of course.

After that lunch, he asked for your presence for dinner, and after dinner, you found yourself making breakfast at Alhaitham’s place.

“Since when did you come over so much?” you asked, sleep clearly clinging to your senses. “Last time I remember, I was waiting by your office door waiting to sneak in ten minutes of your time.”

The coffee he freshly brewed threatens to burst from the confinement of his mouth as he stares at you with a curious expression. “This is my house.”

The realisation spreads through your face like ink in water as you glance at the surroundings. “Oh yeah…that’s right.”

Alhaitham subtly rolls his eyes, letting out a lighthearted tsk as he disappears off into the kitchen. “Do you feel like going to Gandharva Ville in the evening?” he asks, the clatter of dishes echoing through the lounge. “You were groaning over how you hadn’t seen Collei and Tighnari in ages a few days ago.”

He remembered that?  You gawk to yourself, mouth and eyes wide open as you trod towards the sunshine of the kitchen . Moreover, he certainly wanted to go. Since when did Alhaitham suggest you leave the house for purposes such as catching up with friends?

“I’d love to,” you answer as you help him load the dishwasher. “You beat me to it.”

A soft smile imperceptibly brightens his face, casting you in slight awe. “What? You don’t think I disregard your desires just like that, do you?”

Alhaitham is the hopelessly romantic one. Those intricate plans he sets up for your happiness are nowhere as simple-minded as he plays them out to be.

diluc

There was always something peculiar about Diluc Ragnvindr. The snarky remarks about the Knights of Favonius’ poor service, which you found highly offensive in the presence of an employee (you), the genuine air of mystery he upheld, but the most interesting thing you were desperate to crack down on was his frosty distaste for the Cavalry Captain, your co-worker, Kaeya.

As far as you knew, Kaeya was a lovely co-worker. considerate, dedicated and reliable, he was an admirable worker. You didn’t understand why Diluc didn’t applaud him for his discipline renowned throughout the city, especially if he was continuously murmuring about the incompetence of the staff.

Amidst the possible explanations, you came to the conclusion that the unwelcoming atmosphere stemmed from something more personal. Jealously? Past disagreements? No, that couldn’t be. They didn’t appear the closest.

Little did you know that all you needed to do was ask. Not really, but you get the idea.

“You…want to talk to Diluc?” Kaeya spluttered, wide-eyed at your determined face, before moving his gaze towards Angel Share’s bartender with a smirk. “Ah, I see what’s going on.”

“You’re very far off, by the way,” you replied silkily, taking a sip of the apple juice. “I’m not interested in him romantically, if that’s what you were thinking.”

Kaeya raises an eyebrow. “If not romantically, then what could you possibly talk to him about?”

You shrug, making a beeline for the counter. “Thanks for the drink.”

Diluc had caught the words, ‘interested in him romantically.’

According to those four words he heard from you, the context of you and Kaeya’s conversation could already be visualised.

For someone who seemed to be interested in him, your choice of words regarding his interest in you were a little all over the place. So, he assisted you.

“How about we discuss this over dinner?”

Sometimes, you think to yourself, how did this ever happen?

For example, the weak beams of lighting from the east signify that it’s the birth of dawn, your neatly tucked in bed, except this bed isn’t actually yours.

The evidence lies with the person’s arms around your waist, tight and warm against the chills of early morning.

“Good morning,” a sleepy voice suddenly erupts from besides you. “Have I told you how even more striking you are in the sunlight?”

Diluc Ragnvindir is the passionate one—the one who would give you his heart if you asked. In some ways, he’s still as mysterious as the first time you laid eyes on him.

xiao

The moon is the muse for thousands of people. Whether it’s written in a rhyme, painted on a canvas, sung in a song or resonated with a soul, it has immersed itself in the complex depths of the sensitive human heart.

There’s a particular interpretation that has stuck with you since the first time you read it. A lyrical piece of literature from somewhere long lost. You were especially tired that night. A most unlucky dilemma, as it might’ve guaranteed to be one of the most critical and serendipitous nights of your life. Not that you knew at the time.

From that somewhere long lost, between the rolling tides of shadows, tucked away in the safety of peaking mountains, a mysterious figure observed with curiousity at your sentiment.

However, the discreetness of Xiao’s hiding spot was tested most instantaneously when you suddenly made a decision to look up. To the sky, or to him? Truthfully, you were actually aiming for the moon, but the pounding chambers of his chest crashed his steaming trains of thought.

He had to restrain himself from investigating further as your figure dissolved one by one into the night. Maybe you'll be there again tomorrow.

What started off as a little exchange of words soon blossomed into short conversations. Short conversations soon bloomed into a gap in time filled with occasional laughter and encouraging smiles. He learned your name, and you learned his secrets. Vicious, woeful secrets plaguing his dreams, or perhaps the title of nightmares suited it better.

On their own, the characteristics were incessant in disaster. Fusing those characteristics with centuries of solitude and emptiness, it assisted in further igniting the raging fire burning away his will.

The idea of somehow unravelling those years of pain seemed so clearly impossible, even if that person felt like they had a chance. Even if they felt just the tiniest bit more special than all the others.

“Some things are impossible,” Xiao had muttered as he watched you go through an assortment of books he lended from Verr Goldet, eyes flickering from your face to the yellowing pages. “It’s better to admit that than spend years searching for hope.”

Skimming through the columns of ancient literature, a strong feeling of suspicion arose as you distinctively felt like he'd seen you do this once before.

“But what if you find the hope?” you whispered gently, switching your attention to his avoidant gaze. “There’s always that outcome, too.”

That outcome. Of course he’s considered that conclusion, wished for it. But Xiao would never dare to believe that far.

“I read a poem a few nights ago,” you started again. “A comparison of us and the moon. Humans, just like the moon, need to wax and wane. We’ll grow and shine our beauty, but that can’t be achieved unless we remember to rest, to wane. After all, a full moon only lasts around three days out of a whole month.”

How can you just return to reading after you told him that?

That moon analogy was shared about a year ago.

It’s likely that you brushed it off, but for Xiao, it’s still freshly etched into the shelves of his mind. And it would be a lie if he said that he didn’t change in small, irrevocable ways because of it.

Particularly tonight.

An exhausted sigh escapes from your lips as you sink into bed. Lying like a starfish, a hollow expression is evident in your eyes alone.

“This project is never going to work,” you spoke, turning to stuff your face in a pillow. Adjacent to you, Xiao observed as you screamed, once again the same words into the fabric. Only this time, the words were separated by sharp heaves and quiet sniffs. Being a little inexperienced with scenarios such as this, Xiao could only reassure you with the same words and actions that you had endlessly showered him with in similar situations.

He knew you were listening, despite the softness of his voice, which was hardly detectable. He repeated the words you told him a year ago when he felt as if the world was about to end.

“Someone once told me humans and moons are alike,” he smiled as he saw your face lift just a bit, as if you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “We both need to wane before we can emit our light in full greatness.”

Xiao is the quiet one, whose love is often under-looked, but in truth, it’s expressed just as vividly, if not brighter.

[myspacebrat]

throuple, throuple, toil and trouble

modern steddie x only fans reader

summary: after adjusting to life under the same roof, you and the boys decide to throw a Halloween party. Most of Steve and Eddie’s friends drive in from Hawkins, too excited to meet their friends new girl, they’ve heard so much about. But not everyone comes barring good intentions.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, pictures are for aesthetic purposes only(no mention of skin color or hair texture), consented somnophilia, oral sex (m receiving), allusions to frotting, showering together, jealous!steddie, slut shaming, mentions of reader being drugged and sexually assaulted, smoking weed, drinking, fighting, blood, unprotected double v penetration, body worship, cream pie, the boys reminding you who you belong to.

authors note: part two of ‘welcome to the dungeon…’ I hope you enjoy (: as always thank you to @xxhellfiregirlxx & @take-everything-you-can for being the best betas <3

wc: 7.2k

series masterlist

“Mmm, well good fuckin’ mornin’ to me.” Eddie growls, as two of the most beautiful people he’s ever witnessed lay between his hairy, pale legs.

“Yes, suck the tip Stevie, while our princess sucks my balls.” He continues through gritted teeth, “fuck yeah.” He hissed before bringing both hands to rub down his face and through his frizzy, bed hair.

“God, if this is just another wet dream, I’m gonna be pissed.” He chuckles before it turns into a loud whimper caused by the particularly hard suck you gave to his balls while Steve pushed his head down further, bringing Eddie’s cock deeper down his throat.

“Does that feel real enough?” You tease before sliding your tongue across the metalhead's sensitive sack and down to his gooch.

“Oh, someone’s fucking mouthy this morning.” He declares, making Steve giggle with a mouth full of cock.

Eddie tugs at Steve’s luscious locks, pulling him off as a loud pop rings out into the sunlit room, causing the little cock slut to whine, but before you can tease him, the older boy is grabbing a handful of your hair and wrapping it once around his knuckles, pushing you down onto his spit soaked cock.

“Yeah, can’t say anything now, can you baby?” Eddie mocks, making your cunt clench around absolutely nothing.

The groggy boy thrusts his hips harder into your mouth before bringing Steve’s needy lips to his. They kiss and suck at each other as Eddie continues to fuck your deliciously sore throat.

The smacks and moans coming from the head of the bed, egg you on as you twist, suck and gag on Eddie’s painfully hard cock.

“Can Steve come help me?” You beg as you bat your lashes up at your boys, making them break their hot as shit, kiss.

“You want Stevie boy to help you clean up my cum? Is that it?” Eddie knows how much you and Steve love swapping his cum through sloppy kisses, hell Eddie loves it more than both of you combined, so who is he to deny you?

“Get down there with our girl, baby.” He whispers to Steve before bringing him in for one last kiss.

The pretty boy obliges by sliding down and planting himself right beside you.

“Hi.” He whispers sweetly, giving you a quick kiss to your lips before bringing his to one side of Eddie’s shaft, moving up and down in quick but calculated movements.

You shadow him by bringing your lips to the other side, matching his pace and occasionally licking the vein that runs up Eddie’s throbbing cock.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” The older boy mumbles under his breath as his eyes shift from yours to Steve’s. Both of you looking up at him while your mouths move simultaneously along his cock, will have him busting in your mouths in seconds, it’s honest to god his weakness. He feels like a king being worshiped by two beautiful servants. Like the luckiest son of a bitch, alive.

You and Steve rub your tongues together over his tip, spit and precum clinging to both sets of lips that continue their assault on the bright pink, spongy skin.

“Oh fu-uck! Tongues out. Now.” Eddie demands through loud huffs of pleasure. Once both of you have your tongues displayed for the metalhead, warm spurts of cum hit one before he brings his tip to the other, giving his two cum sluts their well deserved treat.

You both hold the cum exactly where it landed, letting Eddie get a good look at his mess before you and the pretty boy begin kissing, swapping loads back and forth, the treat drips down Steve’s chin and you eagerly lick it away before continuing the sloppy share of Eddie’s beloved seed.

It’s been a month and a half since Eddie and Steve have moved in with you, the first two weeks were a mixture of awkward and taut energy as you three adjust to life together. Not to mention the sexual tension between you and the boys, having to hear them some mornings or nights being intimate with each other while you knew you wanted so badly to be a part of it and them wanting you to join but not wanting to come off too strong.

It was a challenge, that is until Steve finally had enough and sat you down their second week of residency, with a very shy but eager Eddie by his side.

“So what did you guys wanna talk about?” Your voice low and your fingers fidgeting with nervousness as you pick up the haphazardly strewn about mail laid out on the kitchen table, stacking it together before shuffling it like a pile of cards.

“Well…” Steve draws out, “to just put everything out on the table…Eddie and I felt something that night, the night we came over and ya know, filmed with you… and we thought we’d just kinda continue whatever it is we had going on, but it just sorta seems like you’ve been pulling away from us.”

He runs a nervous hand through his chestnut locks before continuing “did you not feel it, too?” Eddie and Steve look at you with doe eyes, filled with sadness as they both search your face for answers.

“I did feel something, too…” you begin as you look back and forth between the pretty boy and metalhead, “I just didn’t want to come in between anything or insert myself where I didn’t belong.” You admit, as your anxious fingers continue to fidget, now with your rings.

“Baby,” Eddie starts, giving you that puppy dog look that makes you weak in the knees, the one where he tucks his chin into his chest, looking at you through his long lashes. “Trust me when I say, you belong between us.”

And that’s how your month-long relationship with the boys started. They quit their job at ‘the dungeon’ to make content with you full time.

After you had posted the video to your only fans, your subscribers went crazy for Steve and Eddie, wanting to see more of them with you, along with so many requests for them to make their own; where they could do solo content, which you heavily encouraged.

You and Steve came up with the idea of turning one of the guest rooms into a “sex dungeon” as Eddie called it. Shelves lined with dildos belonging to all three of you; the flesh like one that attached to the strap on you’ve used to fuck Steve with sat front and center, a sex swing; compliments of the boys sat in the corner next to the window lined in black sheer curtains. Ring lights, tripods and any electronic equipment were placed neatly in the spacious walk-in closet and lube, handcuffs, vibrators and butt plugs took up the two drawers in the bed side table.

The other guest room; that was now left vacant, belonged to Eddie and Steve when they first moved in. Now you all share the primary room with discussions of purchasing a bigger bed as Eddie was a stage five clinger in his sleep, he enjoyed being right underneath you or Steve at all times during the night, but you had a feeling a bigger bed wasn't going to change that habit.

Things were perfect, like all levels of the honeymoon phase, perfect. There was only one thing left in your relationship to do, and that was to meet their friends from Hawkins, and for them to meet Michelle. So like the genius you are, you planned to throw a Halloween party with it being mid October, the leaves now beautiful shades of orange, red and browns. It was going to be perfect.

So some cleaning and decorating were in order.

“Fuck.” Eddie huffs, before stretching with a loud yawn. “You both wear me the fuck out.” He chuckles to himself before finding his previously discarded boxer shorts, that were covered in dried up cum from last night's tryst of frotting both boys until they came all over each other's spent cocks and the fabric that Eddie was too impatient to remove all the way.

You and Steve giggle at the metalhead between kisses, you can still taste Eddie on his tongue as you continue devouring his mouth.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, you two have fun.” Eddie smirks down at you both, giving a salacious wink, before sauntering over towards the bathroom.

“Mmm, I get you all to myself?” The pretty boy purrs before kissing down your jaw towards your sweet spot, just under your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you full.” He growls into your ear making you moan and shiver. “I know after sucking cock together your pussy turns into a slip-n-slide.” The honey eyed boy whispers before softly biting at your earlobe.

“Mhm.” You moan back in agreement. “Need it so bad, Stevie.” You gasp as one of Steve’s fingers roughly pinch at your peaked nipple.

“I know you do, baby.” He nods with a mocking pout on his lips. “My little cock slut.” He playfully chides, giving one last tug to your nipple.

“Yeah, you and me both.” You retort, making him laugh into your neck.

“You're not wrong there.” He guffaws, “but, I'm a pussy slut right now.” His response pulls a belly laugh from you as you lay your head on his shoulder. God, you love him.

Wait what?

“Lay back baby, let me show you how much of slut I am for your pretty pussy.”

You and Steve make it down stairs an hour later, all giggles and flirty banter as you both walk into the kitchen, taking in the mess and calculating what needs to be cleaned and where decorations should go.

Eddie went to pick up last minute things for the party, giving you and Steve a sweet kiss while the pretty boy pounded into you from the back. Eddie smiled to himself, shaking his head in complete adoration for the both of you. With anyone else, Eddie would have been an angry, jealous mess; walking out to see the person he’s in love with fucking someone else. But with you, it was different because that love now extended to you, too. You weren't just a random person to them, seeing you and Steve together made him anything but angry. He loved taking a backseat and watching his two lovers, love on each-other. That shit was pure ecstasy, man.

Once all the dishes were washed, floors were swept and mopped and all surfaces were wiped down; you and Steve decide to take a quick shower together before getting straight to decorating.

While you were washing the shampoo out of the pretty boy's signature locks the shower curtain was being ripped open, making you and your boyfriend yelp from sheer terror.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie says with a snicker, “Is that how you’d protect our girl from an intruder, huh Stevie?” The metalhead jokes as he removes his clothes,

“Oh, I didn't expect anyone to pull a psycho on me today, sorry my guard was down.” Steve sasses as he rolls his eyes.

“Always gotta be on guard, baby.” Eddie responds with, as he steps into the shower leaving you squished between both boys. You couldn't help but to giggle at their banter, you loved it.

“Sorry angel, don’t mean to take up all the room, but I missed you both and I just wanted to be next to you.” The long haired boy confesses as he playfully grabs for yours and Steve's ass. “Two juicy asses, how’d I get so lucky?” He says through gritted teeth, as his eyes glaze over in lust.

“I feel the same way about your cocks.” You admit, bringing both boys in towards you as you share a threeway kiss, all lips and tongues. Both of them moan into it, making you want to say ‘to hell with the party’ and spend all day in bed fucking each others brains out, but you knew that wasn’t an option.

“Come on, we still have so much to do.” You say, delivering swift slaps to both of their behinds, before you're grabbing your towel off the rack and stepping out.

Finally, after all your guys’ hard work, the house is set up for the Halloween party of your dreams.

The front door was lined with pumpkin lanterns, an animatronic ghost face stands tall on your front porch, the fog machines are on and smoking up the walkway, spooky sounds ready to go off when the party goers ring the doorbell.

Once inside, all the light bulbs have been changed to either orange or purple and there’s a walkway of stickers that look like bloody footsteps and splatters leading to the snack table in the dining room. Everywhere you look there’s a bat, spider or pumpkin; even the guest bathroom was decorated in some type of Halloween fashion.

But the snack table was the real star of the show, it sat lined with all of the treats Eddie ran out and picked up; caramel apples, cookies, cupcakes, cake pops, even a s’mores bar.

A cauldron filled with dry ice and jones green apple soda sat in the center as it bubbled and fogged up like a real potion, a spider web tablecloth laid beneath the display and orange lights were intertwined between the trays of sweets.

On the kitchen island lay the appetizers; nachos, mummies in a blanket, a cheese board with a plastic skeleton lying in the middle, and finally the numerous boxes of pizzas you ordered.

Everything was perfect.

How you all got it done between quick make out sessions and groping each other every five minutes was beyond you, but you were proud of the outcome, nonetheless.

When your first guests arrived you were already fitted in your tight shiny black tube dress, matching gloves that went up mid shoulder, a little pointy witch hat, black knee high socks and your black platform Mary Jane’s.

The boys were in their matching black cat costumes which mainly consisted of all black clothes, cat ears, cat collars and their faces painted with whiskers and a snout. They were the cutest little kittens.

Steve answered the door as the spooky Halloween sounds rang out through the house.

“Hey, baby.” Steve called from the front door as you were setting out the black solo cups.

Once you and Steve are standing side by side, Eddie runs downstairs, ready to greet the first guests.

“Baby, this is Robin and her girlfriend Chrissy.” The pretty boy says, beaming with his million dollar smile, as he motions to the two beautiful girls standing in front of you. Robin was Mia Wallace from Pulp fiction while Chrissy was the bride from Kill bill, they looked equally amazing.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you.” You say as you go in for a hug. Chrissy gives you a bear hug as if you’ve known eachother forever while Robin gives an awkward side hug that makes you giggle in amusement.

After introductions Steve gives Robin and Chrissy the grand tour, while you get back to setting up the finishing touches.

Throughout the night, new faces continued to show up; you met the hellfire kids, their girlfriends and will’s boyfriend, Eddie’s old bandmates and their girlfriends, some friends of Steve’s from high school and Eddie’s old buddy Rick and a couple of his friends.

For living thirty minutes from Hawkins, it was a pretty good turn out.

You stride into the living room from the kitchen, looking for one of your boyfriends. Finally catching a glimpse of Eddie’s wavy brown locks as he takes a seat on the couch surrounded by familiar faces, blunt in hand and ready to light up before his eyes meet yours. He sends you a smile and a wink before waving you over.

“Hey, pretty girl. Come take a seat.” He says as he pats his lap, gently pulling you down by your arm before you situate yourself on top of him. “Careful there, angel.” Eddie whispers into your ear with a smirk as your bottom slid against his now growing bulge.

As Eddie was sparking up his blunt, too preoccupied for his surroundings, you caught eyes with two boys you had met earlier and were introduced to as Steve’s friends from high school; Billy and Tommy if you remembered correctly. They were eyeing you up and down hungrily from across the room, cocky smirks on their lips as they spoke back and forth, clearly about you.

You looked away as quickly as your eyes found them and when you glanced back over, they were gone.

You let out a heavy exhale of breath you didn’t realize you were holding as your attention went back to the metalhead underneath you.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Eddie asks as he softly kisses your neck before offering you a hit.

“I’m okay,” you say with double meaning towards Eddie’s question and his offer of the blunt.

“I actually have to pee, I'll be back in a bit.” You announce before Eddie quickly takes your chin in his grip and pecks your lips as he says through each kiss “okay…I’ll…see…you…later.”

You walk to the bathroom quickly, hoping not to be stopped by Steve’s “friends”.

You should’ve told Eddie about the way they were looking at you, but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that could potentially be nothing. Maybe they weren’t even looking at you, maybe there was more to it… whatever it was, you didn’t wanna be the thing that came between any boyfriend and his friends.

You make it into the hallway just outside the bathroom when you’re stopped by a rather tipsy Robin.

“Hey,” she cheerfully chirps, “I’ve been meaning to thank you, all night.” She beams but her words of gratitude confuse you.

“Thank me for what?” You ask curiously.

“For making Steve happy, Eddie too…” she says with a bashful smile, “they’ve been through a lot. Steve was pretty torn up over his ex, he wouldn’t move on for years, and was convinced no one else could love him. Then he found Eddie and don’t get me wrong I know he’s so in love with Eddie and they're happy…but now he has two people who will love him and give him what he’s always deserved… so thank you!” She goes in for a hug, this time it’s not an awkward side hug, but the same bear hug Chrissy graced you with, earlier.

“Of course, I intend on always making them both happy.” You admit as your heart flutters at her words.

She nods in satisfaction “I’m gonna go dance with Chrissy, if you want you can totally come and cut in, I’m sure Chrissy would love to dance with someone who actually knows how.” You both chuckle before going separate ways.

You use the bathroom quickly, wash your hands, then give yourself a once over in the mirror before heading back out into the barely lit hallway.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you.” Steve says sweetly as he hugs you, both hands slide down your back slowly before he grabs at the meat of your ass through your tight dress. “Need you and Ed’s so bad tonight.” He whispers into your ear making a chill run down your spine in anticipation.

“You’ll have us baby.” You whisper back before kissing him deeply. You both moan into it before you pull away or else you’d end up fucking him right in the middle of the hallway.

“Mmm, I’m gonna use the bathroom and I’ll find you back out there, unless you wanna…” Steve nods towards the bathroom with a sly smirk. Fuck, these boys were gonna kill you.

“I think we should wait until everyones gone, get real filthy, ya know?” You purr as your fingers slowly walk up his chest before you boop him on the nose, then turn to leave.

“Fuck.” He exhales, shaking his head in utter disbelief and amusement as he heads into the bathroom to relieve himself of all the jones green apple soda mixed with vodka, he’s been drinking like water.

When you walk back into the party, you instantly find Chrissy and Robin in the middle of the living room dancing to Thriller with a few of the girls that came with Eddie’s band and DND club, they’re all laughing and smiling and the whole thing makes your heart feel so full.

Before you’re able to talk yourself out of the invitation you were given, you walk up to them; Chrissy immediately invites you in as she hooks her arm in yours giving you a bright smile.

“Hey, you.” She cheerfully greets you with. You could tell you and Chrissy were going to be fast friends, which you were thankful for considering making friends was never your strong suit and your one and only friend wasn't able to make the party.

You all dance, laugh and joke together for a long stretch of the night, you really haven't had this much fun and let loose with other girls in a long time.

Amber, who you now know is with Gareth, brought over fireball shots for you all to take.

The crowd cheers when you all smash them back.

You almost immediately make eye contact with Steve and Eddie who are sitting on the couch in perfect view of you after the hot liquid seeps down your throat. They’re smiling at you like love sick fools, making your stomach flutter and heart skip as your cheeks grow hot, making you look down towards your feet as if they've suddenly become more interesting.

But before you have a chance to look back up, your body immediately snaps to the voice in your ear that comes from behind you.

“Hello beautiful.” You tense up as a terrifying chill runs through you.

“Um, hi.” You meekly respond with, as your head turns to find Chrissy and Robin dancing, kissing and smiling no longer paying a lick of attention to you.

You didn't want to be rude and tell Billy to leave you alone so you continued to sway back and forth in front of him while he smiled down at you with the most predatory eyes you've ever encountered.

“This is a cute little party you’ve put together.” He chuckles as his minty breath hits your face before he's moving in closer to you.

“Thanks.” You dryly say to what felt like a condescending comment.

“Aw, you shy princess?” He asks before he’s tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Actually, I just came over to tell you I'm a big fan...” He reveals, before getting closer to your ear. “A huge fan.” He whispers.

You feel almost stuck to the ground as you make no moves to get away, until you feel a hand being wrapped around your waist.

“Sup Hargrove? You’re a little close to my girl, don’tcha think?” The metalhead says through clenched teeth.

“Oh, my bad Munson. You're right, you're right..” He says as he takes one more head to toe glance at you before turning and walking back to his freckled faced friend.

“I fuckin’ hate that guy.” Eddie growls as he grabs onto you possessively, as if to mark his territory in front of the two creeps.

“Why is he here then?” You ask curiously as you place your arms over Eddie's shoulders, gently grabbing onto the nape of his neck.

“They’re friends with Steve, use to play basketball with him in high school but they don’t really keep in touch anymore so I honestly have no fuckin’ clue.” He scoffs, giving them one more death glare from over your shoulder.

“You both okay?” Robin asks as she now stands beside you with a bubbly and drunk Chrissy.

“Yeah, we're good.” Eddie speaks up as his grip on you tightens. “You wanna come get some pizza with me, baby?” He whispers before placing a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You agree as he eagerly grabs at your hand, interlocking your fingers as you both walk into the kitchen on a hunt for the last few pieces.

Most of the night you find yourself in heavy rotation with Eddie, Steve, Robin and Chrissy but occasionally making your rounds to talk to and get to know more of the boys’ friends.

You find yourself in an interesting conversation with Jeff and his girlfriend Lily who want to start an Only fans of their own, asking for tips and the do’s and don'ts of it all.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.” Steve whispers to Eddie through the lewd smack of their lips.

“I know baby boy but we have to wait, okay? Can you be a good boy for me?” Eddie asks, making Steve whine into the kisses he was placing on the older boy's neck, making him chuckle.

“So damn needy, aren’t you?” The metalhead growls as he grips and pulls his boyfriend's hair, immediately removing his lips from his skin.

A voice coming from the garage stops Eddie in his tracks.

“She looks so fucking good tonight.”

“Yeah, but you’ve seen her, she’s all over Steve and Eddie man, she won’t go for it.”

“Fuck that. Trust me she will, she’s a slut, plus I think they’re in an open relationship or some weird shit anyway, they’re sure as shit not serious if they’re all fucking each other. Come on man this is why we came.”

“Hmm, I don't know dude might have to slip something in her drink to guarantee a sure time.” One of them snorts at the sick joke.

“Hey, we’ll do what we gotta do.”

The boys are absolutely sure now that the voices coming from behind the garage door belong to Tommy and Billy.

Eddie is seething, his hands are clenched so tight all the veins in his arms are sure to be popping out as his breathing becomes ragged.

Steve goes from horny to fucking fuming in seconds.

“Hey assholes!” Eddie shouts as he rips open the heavy door making the two idiots freeze in a state of shock.

“Oh fuck.” Tommy says under his breath as he sees the looks on the other boys' faces.

“You thought you were gonna come into our house and fuck our girl?! You two fucks are even dumber than I thought.” The metalhead spits as his ringed finger points at them in a blind rage.

“Hey dude, chill the fuck out!” Billy growls, stepping up into Eddie’s face.

Billy fucking Hargrove, always looking for a fight.

‘Well he came to the right place’ Eddie thinks to himself.

“You both need to get the fuck out of here. Now.” Steve says with so much indignation, if Eddie wasn’t so pissed, it would’ve been sure to make his cock twitch.

“Nah, I think there’s a fine piece of ass in there waiting for me.” Billy snides, pushing both boys out of the way as he takes a step inside.

Before he can, he’s being pulled back by his leather jacket, falling flat on the floor. Eddie immediately straddles the mullet haired boy, hitting him with his fists until his knuckles begin to ache and blood becomes visible from both him and Billy.

Tommy goes to pull Eddie off but Steve is there in a flash, punching Tommy and instantly cracking his nose. Steve’s never been one to fight or win one for that matter, but the anger that came over him at their words and their threats to drug and rape you, made him see red.

You along with the older hellfire boys make your way out into the garage after hearing some of the commotion. When you walk in you’re met with a bloody scene; Eddie’s on top of Billy, his fists flying and his face screwed up in complete rage.

Steve has Tommy by the collar of his shirt holding him up against a wall, the freckled faced boy's wounds match Billy’s as crimson red streams from his nose.

Steve says something through his teeth before he’s letting go and letting the boy drop to his knees.

Gareth and Jeff pull Eddie off, holding him back as he tries to get away and finish off what he started.

“You shitheads need to get the fuck outta here, now! I’m not gonna fucking say it again.” Steve roared, making both boys get up and stumble back to their cars, as they grab at their faces that are now gushing with blood.

You look on in horror, completely confused as to what started the whole brawl.

You go for Eddie first who is still shaking with fury.

“Baby, what happened?” You frantically question as you grab at his leather jacket, trying to calm his shaking form.

He immediately grabs you, tucking you into his chest as his arms close in around your body, tightly squeezing and swaying as if he hadn’t seen you all night. He continues by kissing the top of your head over and over until you look up at him, his eyes glassy and red but now all you can see in them is love, so much love that it almost takes your breath away.

He cups your face, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks before he’s kissing you, deeply.

Steve comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around you and Eddie as he lays his head on your shoulder, making you and Eddie break from your kiss.

Steve had been explaining what had happened to Gareth, Grant and Jeff as well as to a wide eyed Robin who walked in at the tail end of the confrontation.

“I think we should tell everyone to leave.” Steve whispers, making you and Eddie nod in agreement.

You all say your goodbyes with lots of hugs and ‘nice to meet yous’ as everyone heads out to their hotels they’d booked around the city.

Robin and Chrissy head up to your guest bedroom, falling asleep almost instantly on the comfortable, fluffy bed.

You take your boyfriend’s into the guest bathroom to clean up their fists while they explain what happened with Tommy and Billy. You were not shocked to say the least and decided to inform them on how you caught the creeps looking at you when you were sitting on Eddie’s lap, more anger filled them as Eddie and Steve agreed they deserved worse than what was given to them.

Finally, while you follow each other upstairs they can’t keep their hands off of you, it’s almost as if it’s primal instinct, like they now have to show you who you belong to. They both tug at your dress exposing your tits while halfway up the stairs. Steve gives your nipples attention until you reach the top where Eddie picks you up bridal style walking you to your shared bedroom as Steve follows behind.

The metalhead throws you onto the bed as both boys eye you with complete, carnal need.

Steve removes your shoes before he’s tugging your dress off the rest of the way, this time they take your knee highs off, wanting you completely naked for them.

Each boy kisses up and down your body, worshiping you as they whisper sweet words of praise into your skin.

“You're so beautiful, baby.” Steve says, before Eddie cuts in with “and you’re all ours.”

Eddie snakes an arm around you, moving you up towards your pillows as if you weigh nothing. He tears your panties off with a loud rip with promises to buy you a new pair as he and Steve lay on either side of you. They kiss your jaw, neck and arms as they each take one of your thighs, rubbing their palms against the meat of them before they're spreading them wider, hooking each foot over their laps so they have easier access to your center.

A shiver runs through you, the parallel in which you felt with Billy is staggering as you realize you will never want anyone, the way you want them.

Both boys bring their wet lips down to your already peaked nipples as they lick and suck at the erect buds, they snake their hands higher between your thighs as they each moan at the wetness that has built up for them and them alone.

Eddie slips two expert fingers into you and hooks them, immediately finding your g-spot, while Steve runs his thumb over your already throbbing clit.

“Holy shit!” You whine in complete and utter pleasure as they both worship and play your body like an instrument.

“Yeah? That feel good, angel?” Eddie mocks, making you moan out louder as both boys’ fingers pick up their pace. The metalhead fucks his into you, as wet squelching could be heard over your wanton screams.

“That’s a good girl, taking everything we give you so good.” Steve praises after popping off of your nipple, that now shines with his spit.

“Just fucking made for us, weren’t you baby?” The long haired boy says while continuing to hit your spot, making your toes curl and your eyes roll back as your peak hits you like a blinding light.

“I’m g-gonna cum, please!” You whine as you throw your head back in complete bliss as both boys attach to each nipple again, their fingers continue to make your spread legs shake.

“That’s it, pretty girl, cum for us. I can feel you squeezing my fingers, just let go.” Eddie whispers

Their unused hands intertwined together behind your head, leaving you all attached to each other.

You’ve never felt so loved, as you let go and give them just what they want.

“Oh fuck!” You shout as you squirm in between them, a gush of fluid wetting their hands up to their wrists as they continue to fuck your through it.

“Fuck, that’s so hot!” Steve moans as he brings his fingers up to your mouth. “Open. Taste yourself.” He demands, you take his appendages that are now dripping in your cum and juices into your mouth, licking and sucking before taking them deep into your throat. Both boys groan as you bob your head, cleaning Steve’s fingers until the only wetness that is left is from your spit.

“That’s right, clean up your mess, dirty girl.” The metalhead growls as he brings his dripping fingers up and shoves them into your mouth after Steve’s removed his. “That’s a good girl.” He coos as he makes you gag, tears immediately fill your eyes as spit seeps out of your mouth and down onto his still reddened and split knuckles.

“Jesus, you’re so perfect, angel.” Eddie mutters as he nuzzles his nose into your jaw before placing more sweet kisses to your skin, a total juxtaposition to how he’s fucking your throat with his fingers.

The other brown eyed boy beside you nips at your ear as his fingers tweak at your sensitive nipples. All of their attention on you is so overwhelming in the best way possible and the fire that they just snuffed out in your lower belly, comes rushing back with a vengeance.

Eddie instantly removes his fingers as he feels you trying to clench your thighs together, that still lay over each boy's clothed lap.

Spit from your mouth dribbles down your chin and onto Steve’s hand that continues to play with your nipples, he roughly rubs the drool off your chin before he’s bringing it back down to your peaked bud, he oh so gently rubs it in with the pad of his index finger, creating goosebumps to form across your body.

The gentle touch to your nipple pulls a whine from between your lips as you grab onto both boys, “I need you.” Is all you can get out, as their hands work your body like their own personal work of art.

“Yeah sweet girl? What do you need, hm? tell daddy.” Eddie mocks with a fake pout.

Steve smiles into the kisses he’s placing onto your neck, at the use of Eddie’s title. There was once upon a time where that was his name for the metalhead but now it belongs to both of you, and fuck, If that's not an instant realization that he loves you and wants to share the other love of his life with you forever, then he doesn't know what is. It's almost as if there is no them, without you. Not anymore.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” Steve mutters to you, making you and Eddie stop, as both of your heads instantly snap towards him. Your wide eyed expression makes the pretty boy want to bury his head in the pillows in complete embarrassment. The metalhead’s stoic expression isn't helping.

“I-I love you too, both of you.” You admit, as your eyes switch from one boyfriend to the other.

Steve exhales a deep breath as Eddie’s face splits into a beaming smile.

“I love both of you, too. I think an unhealthy amount if I'm being honest.” The older boy jokes, but you and Steve both know there's so much truth behind his words.

“I need to feel you both, right now.” Steve whines, and as much as he’d love to have his boyfriend fuck him, what he really needs is to feel you, as his and Eddie’s cocks rub together.

“My two little needy, sluts.” The metalhead chides, before he’s up on his knees in an instant, pushing Steve down on his back and ripping off his clothes before he’s lifting you by your hips and placing you down on the pretty boy's lower stomach. You gasp in surprise; his strength causes the wetness between your thighs to puddle down on Steve’s happy trail, as he takes Steve’s throbbing cock into his mouth and sucks before he’s taking him deep in his throat and bobbing his head.

Steve sweetly takes your face into his hands, as he brings you closer to his lips, feverishly kissing you as his moans slip into your mouth.

Before you know it, Eddie is popping off of his boyfriend's cock and plunging it into your dripping pussy, making you both groan into the heated kiss.

The long haired boy comes up beside you, watching you both. Steve can no longer keep still, he bucks his hips up into yours causing both of you to moan out louder.

“Does that feel good?” He asks the pretty boy, making him bite his lip and nod with a little “mhm” before he’s fucking up into you even harder.

“Tell her, tell her how good she feels around your cock, Stevie.” Eddie whispers into his neck, sloppy kisses being trailed up to his jaw as the younger boy's eyes are rolling into the back of his head, so much pleasure being given to him, he can barely form the words.

“Y-you f-fuck, you feel so good baby, so good, so good…” he continues to repeat like a prayer as his eyes find yours, watching you as your face contorts in complete contentment.

Eddie’s moving back up onto his knees, not able to take anymore teasing as his cock is rock hard and painfully throbbing from just watching his two loves, making love. He needs to be inside one of you before he explodes.

“Inside her pussy.” Is all Steve says before he’s inching himself in right along the other boy's wet cock.

As much as you all have fucked, they’ve never been in one hole at the same time, well besides your mouth.

“Holy fuck, yes please!” You keen as your hand grasps at the headboard, gripping in such a fashion that your hand begins to ache but you can’t let go, as their cocks move simultaneously inside you.

“Yeah baby, take it.” Eddie growls as his hands cover Steve’s, who’s gripping your hips for dear life.

“I love feeling both of you at the same time. Fuck, it’s too good.” Steve whines before taking your nipple that sways above his head, into his mouth and sucking so hard you cry out, wiggling between them as your hips try to meet their matching thrusts.

“Stay still.” Eddie demands with a harsh slap to your ass, “Let us fuck you, kitten.” He groans as his thrusts get harder, skin slapping echoes out into the dimly lit room.

“Yes, daddy!” You sob as tears begin to form in your eyes at how amazing they feel, how much they’re stretching you out and how the steady fire in your belly begins to ignite deeper and blaze hotter, causing your whole body to shake and your eyes to snap shut.

The familiar build up of fluid can be felt before you're almost being pushed over the edge, about to cum so hard you feel as though you may lose consciousness.

A loud “ahh” is pulled from you as both boys perfectly abuse your g-spot with the tips of their achingly hard cocks. You clench around them so tight, making their sensitive tips rub closer together, bringing even more friction and stimulation.

“Oh fuck yeah, cum for us. Soak our cocks baby, c’mon.” Eddie whimpers, pulling your head back by your chin before he’s spitting into your open, wanton mouth.

You swallow it all down with a content sigh, so fucking close to the precipice of pleasure you can feel it as your toes begin to curl and your now grip on Steve’s shoulders gets tighter.

“Come on, fuck come on, pretty girl. Give it to us, baby. We need it.” The pretty boy groans as he tries to coax your orgasm out, faster.

“Oh, yes! I’m cumming!” You warn before a big splash of liquid drenches both boys, along with your new, red sheets below you.

“Yes, yes, I-Im mmm.” Steve moans as his cock begins to twitch, he paints Eddie's cock and your insides making both boys whimper into your skin.

The metalhead is the last to let go and when he does, he fucks his cum so deep inside you, it brings on one more intense but short orgasm from you. Making you clench again, around their sensitive, overstimulated and softening cocks as more liquid splashes onto their thighs.

The mixture of cum seeps down their shafts and to their balls. Eddie thinks the sight of all three of you mixed together is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, he fights his cock from twitching and coming back to life within seconds of such an intense release.

You and Eddie both fall off of Steve, into your respective places with you in the middle.

Both boys grab onto you and each other as if one of you could disappear into thin air, like losing either of you would be instantaneous.

After everyone's breathing settles and the room becomes quiet, Eddie chirps up. “I love you, both. Forever.” He says before he’s placing his head on your chest, his hand slides over your stomach as he reaches for Steve’s, they intertwine their fingers together before their hands settle on your lower stomach and over the sheet you’re all now laid under.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with my two favorite people.”

•taglist•

@likedovesinthewnd @lil-quinnie @danielabrandt @prettypeachsworld @youare-hackskellington @sebs-oxygen @livsters @wheel-of-hyperfixation @imonhereforareasonsadly @kingdomkitten32 @munson-magic @tiannamortis @katwinchester64 @the-unforgivenn @micheledawn1975 @josephquinnsfreckles @jasminelafleur @emsgoodthinkin @manda-panda-monium @munsonsuccubus @teletubbysteroids @eddies-puppet @munsonssecretblog @eddieslittlewh0re @itsgonnabeoktodsy @randomworker @starrthemushroom @imaautisticchicken @creativename01 @m-chmcl-rmnc @emmerson-1 @siouxiesiouxtryhard @munsonology @pillow-titties @cherryc1nnam0n @wyverntatty @spicedandicedtea @justmeinadaze @violettaskies @bebe07011 @devilinthepalemoonlite @lunatictardis @taintedcigs @aol19 @wheel-of-hyperfixation @m-chmcl-rmnc @sobbingcryingattsizzles @jesuisbenny @munsonsfire @harrypotterzzx @tatianah26

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare part.4

Aemond Targaryen x reader Description: Aemond has won the love of his handmaiden, but he worries that her shyness is stopping her from feeling truly comfortable expressing her affections. When Y/N receives unwanted advances from another Lord, Aemond proves just far he'll go to protect his lady.

Previous Part Part 5

Writer's note: I cannot express enough how much all your lovely comments mean to me. I still feel quite new to writing fanfic so it's amazing to know people actually want to read what I write. There's a brief mention of sexual assault in this so please don't read if this is triggering or upsetting to you in any way.

Warnings: female reader, brief mention of sexual harassment and attempted assault, protective (aka violent) Aemond, incredibly fluffy, lengthy as always, I have an obsession with Ewan Mitchell's hands; I'm being so brave about it but I will make it everyone's problem.

Aemond gently grazed his knuckles up and down Y/N's ribcage absentmindedly as he read to her, her body pressed into his side. She had appeared nervous when he'd first suggested it, a week having passed since then, but she never seemed so relaxed in his company as she did now listening to him read of ancient Targaryen dragon riders. He had been so happy, so relieved, when his shy girl had reciprocated his love. But he had not accounted for her shyness around him persisting even now that she knew he loved her. She was always tentative about expressing her feelings, and rarely initiated any physical contact with him. He had been concerned at first that she had reconsidered her feelings, a worry exacerbated by her reticence to inform anyone else of their betrothal. He thought back to the moment she'd agreed to marry him, how he'd immediately wanted to take her to see his mother and declare his intentions. It had been Y/N who had stopped him, frantically grabbing onto his arm and pulling him back to her, immediately putting him on alert.

Crouching back down in front of the chaise where she sat, his gaze had softened as he saw her eyes widened in alarm, hand still gripping his sleeve tightly. He spoke in as calm a tone as he could muster as he tried to ignore his own disquiet. "What is it my love?" Y/N smiled at him, but he noted that it did not reach her eyes.

"You might find me rather silly." Aemond brushed his knuckles lightly over her cheekbone in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "I assure you I will not."

"It is only that I cannot help my more reserved nature. I feel comfortable with you not to judge me for it, but not others. And I know there will be whispers about your choice of a handmaiden to wife."

Aemond's good eye narrowed slightly. "I will have the tongue of anyone who bismirches you."

Y/N had lightly shaken her head at his suggestion. "I do not wish you to. Just allow me some time to get used to the idea that you love me first. I wish for it to be only us for now."

Aemond took hold of both her hands, saddened by her choice of words though desiring to be understanding of her wishes. But he would be firm on one matter.

"I do love you."

Aemond tried to oust these thoughts from his mind, comforting himself that Y/N did not shy from his touch at least, rather she always leaned into it. Though, it would always have to be him who took her hand, pulled her in for an embrace, or brushed his lips against hers. And he had begun to worry she did not think she could touch him. That their difference in status, her naturally timid disposition or, gods forbid, fear of him or his reaction prevented her from doing so. He wanted her to know she did not have to ask for his permission or wait for him to initiate, although he was more than happy to do so. He wanted her to understand that he adored her and would gladly welcome any and every affectation she would permit him.

Y/N seemed to be the most comfortable when he read to her and sometimes she would even rest her head on his shoulder, her breathing slowing so much he thought she might have fallen asleep. It made his heart soar every time for her to feel such trust in him to do so and he would always wrap an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer,  tilting his head down to lean it against hers, in the hopes he could encourage her and assure her that he appreciated and greatly desired her affection. Removing his hand from her to turn the page, he noticed that her eyes followed his movements. From their first meetings, when he'd observed her watching him weave a coin through his fingers, her gaze had always gravitated towards his hands. It had pleased him to know that she found him attractive despite his scar, though for him she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Dropping a hand down from the book he was holding, he took hold of his lady's hand, which was resting in her lap, and interlocked their fingers, a smile forming at the light dusting of pink on her cheeks at his action. He only wished she'd feel more comfortable to take his hand herself should she want to.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat as Aemond took hold of her hand in her lap, sure he must have spotted her staring. She thought every part of Aemond beautiful, but she had a particular fascination with his hands from the beginning. At first she'd just thought them elegant for someone who looked so fierce, whose sword was almost an extension of his hand. Looking down at their intertwined hands she marvelled at how large his looked over hers. There was a time when this might have frightened her. Now, along with his ever present gaze that always seemed to follow her, the warmth of his hand encasing hers just felt safe, protective. She struggled to initiate any physical affection with Aemond, still not fully able to comprehend his regard for her. So she was ever grateful for his patience with her, always taking the lead. But Y/N knew it would be unfair for her to always rely on him in this way, and she worried that he'd begin to think she did not love him in equal measure.

Resolving to at least try to set aside her nervousness for him, she separated their hands in favour of taking his in both of hers. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a look of confusion cross Aemond's face until she began to lightly trace her fingers across his knuckles, making her way slowly down his hand, tracing veins and drawing patterns along his skin. She heard his sharp intake of breath at her actions and willed herself not to be self-conscious or alarmed by this, slowly turning his hand over to trace patterns along the lines of his palm. Aemond seemed only too happy to relinquish his hand to her, awkwardly turning the page with one hand in favour of withdrawing the one she held. She continued her ministrations and Aemond continued to read without comment, perhaps not wanting to draw attention to her affectionate gesture in case it should embarass her. Y/N smiled at the thought, keenly aware of how gentle and caring Aemond always was with her. While she found it difficult to be confident in showing affection, Y/N determined to find small ways to express her love for him.

Aemond was pleasantly surprised to see Y/N grow in confidence each day, his gentle encouragement helping to make her more sure of herself. She'd begun by simply taking his hand of her own accord. Yet this small attention still served to drive him almost to complete distraction as he tried to focus on reading the words before him rather than the soft touch of her fingertips against his skin. It was not long before Y/N was comfortable to take Aemond's hands whenever she wished, assured he would only grasp hers tighter in response. Thereafter, she would reach up on tiptoe to sweetly kiss him on the corner of his mouth as she saw him off to the training yard each morning. She had looked away from him sheepishly the first time she had done so, but quickly lost her embarassment as he eagerly pulled her in to kiss her himself.

The Prince came to realise that Y/N would always retain her shy disposition, but his heart was gladdened to find that this was not a reflection of any wariness towards him any longer.  Throughout Aemond's life, he had lacked the unconditional love he'd longed for, ignored by his father, relentlessly teased by his brother and bastard nephews. The loss of his eye had only served to distance others from him further, and it was only the strength of his bond with Vhagar and the kindness of his gentle sister Helaena that prevented him from succumbing to his overwhelming feelings of loneliness. He could not understand how Y/N, who seemed to be made of pure light, could be drawn to him in spite of the darkness that festered within his heart. But he was everyday grateful she had chosen to love him and he admired her bravery to push through her trepidation and show him as much. This only emboldened him all the more in his own expressions of his love for her.

Y/N was lost in thought as she passed along the halls of the Red Keep. She often found herself so, thinking of Aemond when she was not with him and pondering on her own apprehension to marry the man she loved. She knew that Aemond would have married her the instant she'd agreed to be his wife. He'd told her as much. Yet she could not fully suppress her fears over the judgements of others, the potential opposition they would face for such an unorthodox match. Though, day by day she found herself growing less concerned by these possibilities, moved by the extent of Aemond's love for her and patience to wait until she was ready. With her mind thus preoccupied, she was thoroughly startled when a hand encircled her wrist and tugged her into a sequestered passageway, letting out an audible shriek. The momentum caused her to fall forward into whoever had accosted her. Arms wrapped around her, hands splaying out to cover her waist...Aemond's hands, she realised as she looked up to see him grinning at her playfully.

Before she could scold him for scaring her, he crashed his lips against hers. Y/N's hands flew up to grip Aemond's shoulders as he slowly shifted them backwards until she felt the cool stone of the Keep's walls pressing against her back. Aemond brought a hand up to rest against her cheek, tilting her head up to his to deepen the kiss. Y/N broke away from him a few moments later, shoving lightly against his chest, out of breath. She was sure she didn't strike a particularly intimidating figure, panting for breath, her hair mussed and cheeks surely ablaze. But she tried to fix the Prince with a stern look nonetheless, lightly swatting at his chest. "Aemond, you scared me half to death."

Aemond only smiled wider and grabbed her hand before she could retract it, placing a gentle kiss upon her knuckles before lowering his head to brush his lips against her jaw, his breath tickling her skin as he spoke. "Are you very angry, my love?"  Y/N found herself unable to reply at all as he slowly planted kisses along her jaw, her cheek and finally her forehead. He paused briefly to hum at her questioningly, having received no response. When Y/N only gripped his tunic to pull him closer, he recaptured her lips with his. She reached up with her free hand to entangle her fingers in his hair, feeling him smile against her lips as she did so.

It was Aemond who pulled away then, resting his forehead against hers. "I earnestly apologise for scaring you my love. I missed you and it could not be helped." Y/N ran her fingers through the lengths of his soft white hair.  "You are forgiven." Aemond smiled at her and went to kiss her again but she quickly turned her face from him, laughing at his boyish eagerness. "Aemond, I have my duties to attend to and I am certain you have your own. You are Prince Aemond Targaryen of the Seven Kingdoms, you cannot spend all your time with me."

Her tone was jesting but she laid a particular emphasis on his title. She did not wish to distract him from his duties as a Prince of the realm.  Aemond shot her a smile so dazzling she felt her heart stutter, before tilting his head down to meet her eyes and speaking so softly it was almost a whisper. "I am your Aemond." Y/N gulped, her hand subconsciously tightening its hold on Aemond's tunic. Seemingly pleased with himself at having once again left her speechless, he pulled back. "But if you insist, I will accede to your wishes and withdraw." Y/N shook herself from the dazed state she too oft found herself in around the Prince, taking embarrassingly deep breaths to calm the uneven fluttering of her heart.

But she grew suspicious when Aemond remained planted to the spot, a strangely knowing smirk upon his features. "Aemond, I promise to see you later. But we must go our separate ways for now." Aemond's eyebrows glinted mischievously, in complete contrast to the seriousness of her tone.  "In order to do that you would have to let me go, little one." Y/N's eyes widened with alarm as she looked down to find herself still clutching onto Aemond's tunic, abruptly releasing her hold. Aemond laughed before affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It is alright my darling, I did not wish to let you go either." The rogue did not wait for her response before turning to walk briskly away from her and out of the passageway.

Y/N's heart leapt in her chest as she watched an ornate vase emblazoned with the Targaryen House sigil shatter on the stone floor of Aemond's chambers. She'd knocked it off a side table by accident whilst she'd been making her survey of the room for the evening, and as she cleared up the mess she was racked with nerves at the prospect of telling Aemond, not knowing if the vase was valuable to him in anyway and if he would be angry with her for her carelessness. In her guilt she took him by surprise as he returned to his chambers for the night, all but barrelling into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and hiding her face in his chest.

Aemond had immediately brought his own arms up to wrap around her and return her embrace, letting out a pleased laugh at her display of affection. "While it gladdens my heart that you are happy to see me, might I ask what fortuitous circumstance has prompted you to throw yourself at me?" He spoke low and teasing close to her ear. When his lovely handmaiden only tightened her grip on him in response to his jest he grew truly concerned.

Pulling back from her slightly so he could see her face, he was startled by her penitent expression. "Has something happened?"

Y/N looked up at him regretfully.

"Promise you won't be angry."

Aemond's face had fallen at her request. While he had kept his promise to never again raise his voice to her after he'd first done so and frightened her, the memory still pained him.

"I give you my word."

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath before rushing out "I broke the vase on your side table. It was done accidentally and I am sorry for it."

Aemond nearly laughed again with relief that it was such a small thing that concerned his lady, but did not wish her to think he was being cruel or laughing at her. He bent his torso slightly so he could look into her eyes. "Is that all? You can change anything to your liking or break it if you will, these will be your chambers too one day when you are my wife. I do not wish you to worry yourself about such an inconsequential matter."

Y/N was grateful that Aemond had not been angry, indeed he was not in the slightest bit perturbed at her clumsiness. But his allusions to their marriage and shared life together had her cheeks turning red with embarassment and she quickly returned her head to his chest to hide the fact. She'd felt his chuckle resound in his chest as he gently extricated her from him oncemore to hold her face. "Do not hide from me, my love. I will not rush you. We will marry when you are ready."

Y/N rushed from Helaena's room, brushing aggressively at the tears blurring her vision. She'd hoped to visit the Princess and return a book she'd borrowed, having grown to see her as a friend. But she was surprised to find her chambers empty save for Martin Reyne, one of Prince Aegon's retinue of friends. His lecherous smirk upon spotting her sent shivers down her spine, as she watched him mentally undress her.

"No need to leave on my account, I was just looking for Prince Aegon. Alas, he is not here."

Y/N bristled at his presumption to skulk about the Princess Helaena's chambers, only shooting him a furtive look before she turned to leave, not wishing to remain in his presence alone any longer. But he quickly closed the distance between them, grabbing her arm forcibly and pulling her further into the Princess's chambers. No sooner had his hands began to wander than the door was flung open by Ser Erryk Cargyll, who'd angrily shoved the Lord away from her. She had only just been able to whisper her thanks to the knight before falling apart and fleeing from the room. Y/N could hardly breathe through her attempts to stifle her sobs as she stumbled down the halls of the Keep, hoping she could avoid running into anyone. She needed to be find somewhere to calm herself and found herself headed in the direction of Aemond's chambers, where she felt safest, before she had even consciously made the decision to do so. He was never in his chambers at this time of the day so she did not expect to see him standing by his desk, back turned to her. She let out a startled gasp at which Aemond instantly turned to face her. Falling against the nearest wall for support, she placed a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her frantic breathing and stop the flow of her tears, aware that both were causing her to feel faint and unsteady on her feet.

At the sight of her distress, Aemond ran to her side, lightly taking hold of her elbows to keep her steady as he looked over her rapidly for any signs of injury. Y/N couldn't speak, she could only fall against him and sob into his chest as his hands flew up to hold her against him. One hand stroking her hair, he tried to whisper words of comfort to her and hush her cries for long enough to ascertain the cause. "It is alright, you are safe. Can you tell me what happened?" When her breathing only became more erratic, Aemond swept her up into his arms, her own instantly finding purchase around his neck, and carried her over to his favoured arm chair before setting her on his lap.

In any other circumstance he would have been deliriously happy to be able to hold her this close, to have her nuzzle into his neck as she did now. But he had never seen her so upset, not even on the one occasion when they'd argued, and he felt his own heart race and dread seep into his very bones at what could have prompted such a response from his lady.

It was a long time before Y/N felt able to tell Aemond what had happened and she could not bring herself to meet his gaze as she did so. Aemond had to tilt his head to hear her voice muffled against his shoulder, stiffening and feeling rage rise up in him at every word. He did not interrupt her, only speaking once he was certain she had finished. Kissing the crown of her head, Aemond tried to contain his anger so as not to frighten her further, promising to himself that he would deal with the bastard who'd dared touch her later. But for now he knew Y/N needed him more. "No one will ever harm you again."

A short while later, Aemond stormed into the throne room, where Ser Erryk had informed him Aegon and his lickspittle friends would be. He heard their laughter before he saw them, and that only served to fuel his rage further. It did not take him long to pick out the object of his ire. Aegon had turned upon hearing his heavy tread "Ah, brother."

Ignoring his brother entirely, Aemond headed straight for his friend, his voice booming across the hall. "Reyne!" The Lord in question looked thoroughly alarmed at being addressed in such a manner by the one-eyed Prince, taking a cautious step back, his own voice wavering. "My Prince?"

Aemond roughly grabbed hold of the Lord's front. "Did you think your actions would go unpunished you craven bastard?"

Reyne's eyes widened with alarm as he took note of the dangerous glint in the Prince's eye and his venomous tone. "My Prince, I do not recall committing an infraction against you."

Aemond shoved Reyne against a nearby pillar, hearing a satisfying smack as the Lord's head resounded off it. Aegon swiftly stepped in to aid his friend.  "Come now brother, what is the meaning of this?"

"He assaulted my handmaiden in our sister's chambers" Aemond all but growled through gritted teeth. Realisation dawned on Reyne's face and Aemond narrowed his eyes, feeling the blood of the dragon heat within him as a light-hearted grin broke across the bastard's face. "All this over a girl? It was only a bit of fun, she didn't need to go getting upset over it." Aegon saw the danger before his foolish friend and made a grab for his brother, but Aemond was stronger and quicker, merely shoving his brother aside before punching Reyne in the face with enough force to break his nose. As blood began gushing from the Lord's nose and he unceremoniously fell to the ground clutching at his face in pain, Aemond grabbed him by the back of his neck, roughly dragging him from the hall. He dragged him all the way to the front entrance of the Keep before throwing him atop the stairwell, leaning down into the Lord's face, his voice low and dangerous. "If I catch you within the walls of The Red Keep again I will fucking kill you."

When Aemond returned to his chambers dusk had fallen and Y/N had yet to move from where he'd left her, curled up in his favoured chair. Seeing her look so fragile, her arms wrapped about herself, he wished he'd killed the blaggard after all and resolved to comfort her as best he could. Her head snapped up at the sound of his footsteps and she jumped up to greet him, her eyes gravitating towards his still bloody knuckles. He quickly moved to assuage the concern forming in her eyes. "The blood is not mine. Mostly. He will not touch you again." Y/N took his hand to place a tender kiss upon his grazed knuckles. "I am grateful, Aemond. Though I would not have you hurt yourself in defence of me."

Aemond was moved by the sweetness of  his beloved's temperament and her concern for his wellbeing. But he wanted her to see him as her protector, for he always would be. He levelled a charming smile at her. "Do you really think me so fragile and weak?"

Y/N's eyes widened. "Of course not Aemond, I did not mean that."

With the hopes of amusing her, and thereby distracting her from her current troubles, he feigned offence. Pulling away from her he paced to the other side of the room and sighed exaggeratedly. "Alas, my lady does not think me fit to protect her. I do not know that I can stand the shame."

"Aemond, I know you are powerful and perfectly capable of defending me. You are a formidable swordsman. That is not..." Y/N started to apologise but stopped mid sentence as she looked suspiciously at the upturn of his lips, realising he was just teasing her. "Aemond that isn't funny", she tried to look stern but struggled to repress her own smile at his antics. Aemond quirked an eyebrow up at her. "So my lady thinks me powerful, does she? Formidable even?"

Y/N blushed at her own words thrown back at her, stuttering out her response. "You know what I meant, Aemond. Don't be arrogant."

Aemond's smile broadened in response and he slowly began stalking back towards her. He had a playful gleam in his eye that had Y/N stepping backwards in response and moving around his desk, unsure of what game he was playing. "What are you doing, Aemond?"

Aemond halted on the other side of his desk. "It would appear I have to assure my lady of my capability to defend her."

Y/N's confusion at his words lasted only a moment before he darted around the desk, reaching for her, and she turned to run from him. It wasn't long before she found herself giggling as he chased her about the room. She knew he was only pretending, purposefully allowing her to escape his hold each time his fingers grazed her waist, but that only made her laugh harder. She'd not known Aemond had such a playful side to him.

Wishing to hold his lady, Aemond decided to end their game, pleased to have made Y/N laugh and to have distracted her for the moment. He caught up to her and swept her back into his arms, her back flush against his chest as he spun her about, picking up speed in accordance with her laughter. Placing her gently back down he cupped her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, wanting her to know he was in earnest now.

"I will always protect you, defend you with my life if I have to. You are my love and will be my wife one day, whenever you give the word."

Y/N smiled up at him with gratitude and love in her eyes. "Aemond, I think I am ready to be your wife now."

Aemond could not contain his joy at her words, feeling a weight lift from his chest. He had been willing to be patient for her, but each day Y/N continued to feel unsure of their marriage, of him, the deep seated insecurity that had haunted him since childhood had grown stronger.

"Truly, my love?"

"Truly." That was all he needed to hear before he captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

You were expecting Aemond fanfiction and instead you got an ode to Ewan Mitchell's hands. Whoops 🤭

@jjkysnk

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[raya-hunter01]

WIP Wednesday-Bad Habit

Thank you @theninthwonder and @empressdedefor the tag. This is a one-shot I started but never finished.

“Roman!” I screamed, as his eyes twinkled with mischief, his smirk making me want to reach out and slap his ass, but he felt so fuckin’ good inside me.

“Yea, I’m here baby, daddy’s here,” he moaned as I clawed at his back whimpering beneath him as gripped my hips, bending my legs towards my head as he plunged deeper inside me.

“Baby!” I gasped at the new position as he growled against my lips.

“Uh, huh I got yo’ ass now,” his body trembling against mine as our lips found each other once again. "Let Daddy take care of you."

“Fuck! Ouuu wait,” I whimpered against his lips, gently pushing my hands against his stomach. His trust became more powerful as he swam deeply in my welcoming ocean.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ wait, move dem hands and take all this dick. Daddy, missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too!” I exclaimed unashamed as he reclaimed me. “Have you been givin’ him my pussy?” he questioned as I whimpered against him.

 “Nah, answer me, has he had my pussy?" Roman groaned snapping his hips, thrusting deeper inside me.  “Yes!” I whimpered, refusing to look at him.

 “Look at me Savannah,” he growled grasping my chin as our eyes met.

 “Tell Daddy you're sorry for givin’ away his pussy,” he groaned, grasping my hands, pinning them to the bed.

“I’m sorry Daddy, oh!” I cried, truly at his mercy.  “Good girl, Daddy forgives you,” he murmured against my lips. His strokes long, hard, and deep as I tightened around him.

  “Fuck! Yea, grip dat dick and don’t let go,” he groaned his thrusts becoming more wild as he released my hands.

On instinct, I entangled my fingers in his beautiful mane pulling him closer.

“Baby, I can’t let you go. I know what we said, but I can’t,” he growled grasping my throat, claiming my lips in a possessive kiss.

 “Me either, but I don't want to hurt him. We have to stop this," I moaned feeling overwhelmed, as we gave in to our desires.

“I don’t care about Carmelo; I care about us,” he panted as I clawed at his back, whimpering in pleasure.

"It's not right," I whimpered as he claimed my lips once again, silencing me.

 “You were mine first...You still mine." he declared hitting my G-spot over and over, as I silently prayed my legs wouldn't cramp up as my feet touched my head.

Each stroke was more powerful than the last as a low primal growl escaped Roman's lips. "I'm cummin!" I cried as he groaned in praise.

"Fuck, you're such a good girl," he moaned, claiming my lips one last time as we fell over the cliff of ecstasy together.

And just like that, I had fallen back into my bad habit…..

Tagging @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @kyleoreillylover

Taglist:

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[maxxxineminxxx]

I wanna be more part 2 || eddie munson

part one: https://www.tumblr.com/maxxxineminxxx/730923192165826560/i-wanna-be-more-eddie-munson?source=share

warnings: angst, jealousy, cussing, underage drinking, kissing.

summary : y/n attends the party she was unsure about going to, only to find out that Eddies there as well with his "girl?'' Eddie is still ignoring y/n and she is determined to find out why.

A/n; I decided on making a part two I hope its okay. I tried to finish this part and upload it as fast as i could so if there is any errors let me know!

You haven't spoken to Eddie all week, and every attempt to catch his eye seems to fail. The guys from Hellfire, while friendly, are just as clueless about Eddie's behaviour as you are. You've missed being with them, but with the way Eddie's been acting, you doubt he'd even want you around at this point. You can't shake the feeling that he's got Roxanne as a stand-in for you. The two of them seem awfully close.

Yesterday was the first day of the week that you had biology, Eddie was in the same class as you and sat right next to you so you thought you would finally be able to maybe get him to even acknowledge your presence. But he didn’t in fact he didn’t even sit next to you he moved his seat and sat next to Roxanne instead. The two of them giggling the entire lesson.

The cheerleaders have been persistent in trying to convince you to go to the party tonight, but all you really want to do is wallow in self-pity. On Saturday nights, you and Eddie would have your cherished movie nights. This tradition had been going strong since you were twelve, and you hadn't missed one. But tonight, you couldn't help but feel that it would mark the first Saturday where this tradition would be broken. Eventually, though, you decide that it might be good to take your mind off the situation and distract yourself for a couple of hours by going to this party.

As you approach Olivia's house, its exterior gives off elegance and warmth. The well-maintained structure stands as a testament to a comfortable and inviting abode. Olivia's mother graciously welcomes you inside. Following the lively symphony of girlish laughter, you navigate through the house. The source of the cheerful laughter and singing leads you to a room where a flurry of activity unfolds. The air is scented with cosmetics, a delightful blend of powders and perfumes.

 Within this lively environment, a group of girls are engaged in the transformative ritual of hair and makeup, each one a portrait of focused determination. Some of them in pairs, offering assistance and sharing opinions on outfits. The room is vibrant with colour, style, and a shared sense of excitement as they prepare for the party soon.

"y/n, get over here so I can get started on your makeup," Chrissy said to you, patting the spot next to her on the bed. You complied and settled in, letting her work her magic.

Meanwhile, Layla declared herself the outfit maker and designer, convinced that jeans were a no-go for a party. You observed as Carol and Olivia playfully teased each other and spritzed their hair.

 "y/n, you're up next for hair," Olivia informed you, stealing glances at her own reflection.

“y/n is there anyone you like?” Chrissy asked as she finished up your blush. “Yeah, but I don’t really think he likes me back like that, he kind of only sees me as a friend.” You admitted to her, she looked at you with pitiful eyes. “Well, his loss yeah?” you hummed in agreement and carol placed her hands on your shoulders and then spoke. “Hold your breath unless you want to pass out from inhaling too many hairspray fumes, I’ve learnt from experience.”

 This was going to be a long night. Slightly uncomfortable too, outfit wise.

Arriving at Jason's house, a wave of discomfort washed over you. The dress you wore hugged your form, its hemline leaving you feeling more exposed than you were used to. Layers of makeup adorned your face, a foreign sensation that you tried to ignore. Taking a deep breath, you pushed those sensations aside, determined to make the most of the evening. A break from the Eddie situation was much needed.

Compliments from fellow partygoers began to flow, and you couldn't deny the boost to your confidence. It made the uncomfort worth it. Though you couldn't ignore the lingering gazes from the basketball team. In the kitchen, an entire table was dedicated to a bunch of alcoholic drinks. You poured some into a cup, leaning against the counter as you took a sip. It was a moment of peace before you had to socialize. Although it didn't last very long before the girls were running up to you. The girls all come rushing up to you, whispering in hushed tones among themselves.

"Oh my god, you're never going to believe who even dared to attend tonight," Layla announces to the group, imitating a gag. "Eddie Munson and Roxanne are here together," she adds.

 You scan the room, and there they are.

The sting of hurt cuts deep, a familiar ache settling in your chest. It's a harsh truth you've come to accept - Eddie's reluctance to attend parties with you is a wound that never seems to fully heal. No matter how much you plead, his answer is always the same: a resolute no. You've always turned down invitations like this because Eddie didn't enjoy them, and you didn't want to go without him.

You wonder if he would have done the same for you. And now, he's here, amidst it all, with her. She likely didn't need to utter a plea, a thought that only adds to the pain. You watch as she leans into his side, and he holds her close. Your gaze remains fixed on them until your eyes meet Eddie's. He looks at you, then turns to Roxanne, whispering something in her ear. They both giggle.

The alcohol begins to work its gentle magic, enveloping you in a comforting warmth. Leaning into Jason, who's positioned himself protectively between you and Carol, you find solace in his presence. It's surprising, yet oddly comforting. He places a protective arm around your waist.

“you, okay?” he asked with genuine concern you nod and give him a smile. “Just tired.”

Jason had promised to be your protector, ready to confront any guy who overstepped boundaries and made you uneasy. His genuine concern touched you deeply, especially when you confide your uncertainty about the party during your lunch conversation. As the party swirls around you, the noise and bright lights closing in, you start to feel slightly overwhelmed.

You stumble towards the front porch, craving the cool embrace of fresh air and a moment of peace. The alcohol has taken its toll, pushing you on the edge of emotions. Your heart aches for a chance to talk to Eddie, to find out the reason for his distance.

Lost in your thoughts, you settle onto the porch, consumed by all your questions and concerns. It takes a moment before you even register the presence beside you. Glancing over, your breath catches in your throat. There's Eddie, his expression etched with deep contemplation. It appears he, too, is lost in his own world, unaware of your arrival. The weight of your unspoken connection hangs heavy in the air between you.

But when he finally noticed you, he stood up, already ready to head back inside and ignore you once again. But you grab his arm before he can enter the house once more. Your voice trembles with frustration and hurt as you confront Eddie. His attempts to avoid your gaze only fuel your determination.

“Why are you ignoring me, Eddie? I think I deserve a damn explanation," you press your grip on his arm firm. His response feels like a dismissive blow.

"I don't know what you mean," he mutters, a fake innocence in his tone that grates against your raw emotions. It's as if he's trying to gaslight you, making it seem like you've imagined this distance.

"You don't know what I mean? How about how you ignored me all weekend, and then still didn't speak to me at school, no matter how many times I tried to reach out to you?" Your words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your broken connection. The ache of longing for an explanation pulse through you, demanding acknowledgment.

Eddie's fingers dance nervously over his rings, a visible sign of his stress. He lets out a shaky exhale, struggling to find the right words. "I Dunno," he mumbles, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Your frustration grows, demanding an answer. "What do you mean you don't know? You just woke up and decided you were going to ignore me for no reason, huh?" The hurt and confusion well up within you, desperate for an explanation. You feel your eyes swell up with tears, and you blink them away, worried about messing up your makeup. Eddie’s confession hangs heavy in the air, each word dripping with sincerity and vulnerability.

"I love you, y/n, so much it scares me," he admits, his emotions laid bare.

"I've been working up the courage for years to ask you out or say something, but I figured you would never see me that way, and then I'd ruin our entire friendship. So I needed to get over you. And I couldn't do that by seeing you all the time, I only came to this stupid party to make sure you were okay,” he admits ‘’i even asked Roxanne to help me i don't know, maybe make you jealous, see if you even cared.’’

The sight of you with Jason seems to further drive home the point for Eddie, a bitter confirmation of what he feared. "But you look pretty cozy over there with Jason, so it looks like you couldn't care less," he concludes, his tone laced with hurt. Your heart aches, the weight of his words settling in. This is a mess of misunderstanding.

His words leave you momentarily speechless. He wants more than just friendship, and the weight of that realization settles in, both thrilling and terrifying. As he turns to leave, you find your voice, a mixture of surprise and longing colouring your words.

"Eddie, wait." But you've answered too late; he's already walking towards his car to leave. You run after him, yelling out his name, and he finally looks back at you.

The weight of the moment hangs heavy in the air as you try to muster the words. "Eddie wait” But your attempt at an explanation is abruptly cut off.

His voice trembles with pain, a raw vulnerability in his eyes. "Y/n, save it okay? I don't want to hear it," he interjects, his tone laced with sadness. His words struck you like a blow, and in that vulnerable moment, you couldn't hold back any longer. "I love you too," you confessed, the truth tumbling from your lips as he moved towards his car. You couldn't bear to watch him leave, to be ignored again. You had to tell him now.

As he turned to look at you, his face registered shock and disbelief, a thousand emotions dancing across his features. The weight of your unspoken feelings hung heavily between you, a bridge waiting to be crossed. He moved closer to you. So close that you could feel his breath fanning over your face. “Say that again,” he asked, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and locking eyes with you.

“I love you, Eddie.” He cupped your face with both his hands, and you felt his lips crash into yours creating an electrifying connection that sent shivers down your spine. It was a passionate moment filled with desire and longing. Our bodies pressed against each other as if trying to merge into one. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in the intensity of the kiss. The kiss was hungry and passionate. You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. He broke away from the kiss and looked at you with a smirk. “I haven't told you how beautiful you look tonight,” he said, his hands roaming your body. You blushed and hid your face in his neck. He held you close, pressing kisses to your cheeks.

‘’Please don’t ignore me again Eddie, i wish you would have spoken to me " you said attempting to make the situation serious again so you could understand how he was feeling.

"I know, I know I should've just told you how I was feeling, but I just couldn't,” he admitted softly. You brushed his bangs out of his face and watched as he gathered his thoughts.

“i didn't know how to talk to you about it or even approach the situation, i thought that if i admitted it to you i would mess it up and become a stuttering mess, ‘m sorry.” he expressed to me, he buried his face into the crook of my neck for a moment before he pulled away and looked at me with a smirk.

 “So what's this I'm hearing about you loving me huh?”

 “Eddie, stop, I'm still mad at you,” you said, fighting the urge to smile.

“Nonoo y/n you love me’’ “Y/N L/N LOVES EDDIE MUNSON’’ he screamed on top of his lungs “Eddie people are staring” you laughed and tried to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.

“Let them stare, I'm only telling the truth.’’ he leaned in to kiss you once more. “How about I make it up to you with a milkshake?” “Only if its chocolate”

You and Eddie walked hand in hand to his van. It felt like a dream, the reality of your shared feelings sinking in with each step. The joy in your heart was palpable, unable to tear your gaze away from him, grateful that he felt the same way you did.

“y/n do you know what this means” he looked over at me and was suddenly extremely serious. “A cheerleader is in love with me.’’

“You are actually such a dork” you say as you grab his hand to hold whilst the two of you walk over to his van. “Yeah, but I’m a dork that you love.”

tags: (i hope this is everyone tumblr wasnt allowing me to tag some ppl so if i missed anyone im so sorry )

@thedyingwriter @daisyridleyyyy @munsonzgf

@sazifer @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @sashaphantomhive

@boomitsallie1 @emma77645 @ziggeddie @ahoyyharrington

@inesven

[pampushky]

Disk Florets

Roronoa Zoro/Reader - angst, hurt/comfort - 4k

ao3 link | masterlist

Roronoa Zoro is an idiot. That much is obvious, and a well known fact. He is incredibly well versed in battle, able to adapt and think on his toes, one of the finest warriors to ever live, in this life and the next. He is a strategist, through and through, able to turn any losing situation into a win for himself and his crew. He is confident, training day in and day out, a marvel of what pure human strength and determination can conquer.

But he is an idiot. Especially around you

Roronoa Zoro is an idiot. That much is obvious, and a well-known fact. He is incredibly well versed in battle, able to adapt and think on his toes, and one of the finest warriors to ever live, in this life and the next. He is a strategist, through and through, able to turn any losing situation into a win for himself and his crew. He is confident, training day in and day out, a marvel of what pure human strength and determination can conquer. 

But he is an idiot. Especially around you. He stumbles on his words, even when you’re not even talking, only standing a few feet away, watching whatever nonsense Luffy has started on about, eyes always so observant. Whenever you do speak, he listens, and he listens well. Your voice is firm, but soft, stating nothing but facts in a dry, humorous tone, delivered straight to his door with your sharp tongue. You had made a joke at his expense once, during dinner— something about how his lack of brain was made up for in his rather impressive chest— and he had broken the glass he was holding, blushing rather violently, his drink exploding onto himself and the table as you very slowly closed your mouth, looking at where his cup had been, and then looking straight at his face, before saying, in the kindest sarcasm he has ever been blessed with hearing, “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Roronoa.”

Oh, and he lives for those backhanded compliments from you. He would crawl on his hands and knees, groveling at your feet for you to even speak to him, but the way you compliment him, in such a cruel way? Slut shame him all you want— Zoro knows that’s the closest he’s ever going to get to you lavishing praise upon him. And it’s pathetic, he knows, the way he worships the ground you walk upon when you’re so clearly taken. 

He’s not oblivious to the way you and Sanji interact. How the cook can draw a bright, blinding grin onto your face with the smallest of gestures. How gentle he treats you, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you so much as a shiver, and how dedicated the two of you are to each other. It’s… honestly, a bit inspirational, to see you two together. Granted, you’re never holding hands or anything, and Zoro’s never seen you so much as kiss, but he knows how people act when they’re in love. He may not be the smartest man on the seas, but he can add two and two together to make four. You and Sanji are meant to be, written in the stars. You’ve come through on top from so many trials and tribulations, proving your loyalty to the crew time and time again, more than any of them, your dream being threatened at one point, should you stay with them, and dammit, you still found a way to make it work, spitting up blood and declaring your loyalty to Luffy with a sword to your neck, ready to die even if it meant you would never see your dream come to fruition.

It had been Sanji, who held out his hand to welcome you back, not Zoro. So, he’s settled into his peace. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance against the cook, however much he loathes the fact that he talks so frivolously to other people while he has you. But, Sanji knows you better than Zoro. Has fought more battles with you than him, and you work perfectly in sync with each other. There is no competition when Zoro loses the moment it starts, so why even try?

He bottles up his feelings for you in his sake and training. Lets you make your dry comments, and watches you from afar, as Sanji brings you snacks as you dig through some articles, looking for some clue as to their next move, leaning over your shoulder and pointing at something you missed. Because one day, he’ll die, and those emotions will die with him, and he will never have to see how you react to them. He won’t have to fear rejection, because he knows he’s not strong enough to hear you turn him down. 

Naturally, he does get a bit worried when you catch a cough. It sounds bad, and they had just passed a winter island, so he assumes you’ve caught a rather nasty cold, and he gruffly instructs you to see Chopper as soon as you’re done with your chores for the day. You roll your eyes at him, giving him a sarcastic, “ Yes, Vice-Captain.” As you continue to roll extra barrels of fresh water into the storage room, back turned to him as he watches for just a few more seconds, before walking off, needing to complete his tasks. 

He doesn’t hear you cough again for about a week when he asks Chopper in passing if he has given you some medication to help with your cough. The doctor looks at him in confusion. 

“But… I never even talked about a cough with them,” Chopper strokes his chin with his hoof, insisting that you had not come to see him at all that week, and it seemed like you had been actively avoiding him. Zoro lets out an annoyed tch and thanks Chopper anyway. He is stupid, but he’s at least kind sometimes, especially to Chopper.

He keeps his ears peeled for any sounds of coughing for the rest of the day, lazily patrolling the ship instead of napping like he normally would. That’s when he hears it. The cough. It sounds like it’s gotten worse, now actively with retching and hacking added into it. He can hear you gag, along with a small groan of pain. You’re nestled between some crates and a barrel, shoulders shaking as you cough into your fist, trying to silence yourself as you hear footsteps approaching. Zoro stops and holds still for two whole minutes, and that’s when you start again, the cough ugly and wet, with hiccups in between, as if you’re actively puking. A final, wet splat hits the ground, and that’s when Zoro can’t take it anymore, striding over, a bit frightened that you’re still coughing so violently. 

What he sees makes him stumble a bit. You look so small, curled up in the fetal position and shaking in pain. Tears are pricking your eyes, and blood is trickling from your lips. In front of you, lying on its side, the stem thick and covered in phlegm and blood is a sunflower, deceivingly cheerful and massive. It must be a mammoth, the largest of the many varieties, and it’s a wonder it even made its way out of your mouth without ripping your skin as it pushed its way past your teeth, and through your lips. You let out a small moan, trying to shift away from Zoro’s view, tears now falling freely as you lay on the floor. Small sobs rattle from your chest, and it breaks his heart to see you this way, it feels damn near violating to witness you in such a state.

The petals, a vibrant gold, have blood splattered on them. Smaller, un-bloomed buds are scattered around it, none of their stems quite as thick or as healthy looking as the bloom, though. It makes him panic, his breathing growing erratic as he gets down on his knees, and you whimper. He’s never seen you like this. You’re always so cool, so collected, the level-headed member of the crew that holds back Luffy’s impulsivity. But now, you’re trembling at his touch, letting out a yelp as his fingers brush your skin as if you’ve been burned. You’re so, so small, he realizes. He’d never seen you as that, even if you were shorter than him. Your attitude was larger than life, how could you ever be so small now?

You let out another weak moan, and he pulls you closer, gently hushing your attempts to slip from his arms as he stands, nearly sprinting up the stairs to get you to Chopper. For the first time in a long time, Zoro is scared. He is utterly terrified he is going to lose you, or at least the idea of you that lives in his mind, in his heart. He wonders how this could happen to you— how Sanji could let this happen to you— and his stomach bubbles with red, hot rage. 

How could Sanji not love you? You were funny, you were witty— you were the smartest fucking person on the crew! You were a brilliant strategist and investigator, working side by side with Robin, delving into the mysteries of the Ponegylphs and so much more, able to bargain with just about anyone, in any situation, and still give the impression that no matter how stacked the odds are against you, you have cashed in all your chips, with no intent to lose. You were, in Zoro’s eyes, an ethereal creature, more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen, and he would lay down his life, ten times over, dying in agony again and again, if it meant you would so much as smile his way. He would die at the altar of your love if it meant there was so much as a chance you could return those feelings for him, and love him just as desperately as he loves you. You take another rattling breath in, letting out a cry of pain as another bout of coughs racks your chest, the precipice of another bloom starting to crown out of your mouth, the flower, with sharp disk florets forcing its way out, as the stem pushes its way up your throat. Zoro watches the flower bloom as he takes the first step above deck, the flower and stem fall from your mouth as you wail in pain when he's so close to the infirmary.

He shouts for Chopper, and the reindeer is already there, the crew crowding around Zoro as he holds you, wide-eyed and looking down at your trembling form. He can hear Nami gasp, uttering the names of the various gods that once watched over the world as he rushes you to the infirmary. Sanji is by your side in a heartbeat, panicked, shouting your name and clutching your hand. And he looks utterly disgusted that Zoro is the one carrying you, shoving him away the moment you’re laid on the cot, forcing him from the room with a flurry of kicks. And Zoro, stupidly, lets him, too scared, too deep into the shock of just how much pain you must have been in, to even fight back against the cook who he thinks might be causing it. 

Because Zoro is an idiot, and he is helplessly in love with you, and he wishes he was the one with sunflowers choking him, constricting his lungs, and crushing his heart with their roots. But the world is cruel, so endlessly cruel, and it’s you who is suffering.

Chopper solemnly informs the crew he’s helped you stabilize, but that it doesn’t look good. The roots are so strong, so ingrained in your lungs, that you may have a week to live, at most. Zoro breaks at that, collapsing to his knees, catatonic. And that’s when something inside Sanji finally snaps, and he lands a solid kick against Zoro’s head.

Who is this man, this pig-headed, muscled idiot, to act so devastated when he is the reason you’re like this? Sanji remembers when you first confided in him, two years ago, as they sat on Thriller Bark, about your love for the swordsman, watching over him in his unconscious state. 

“He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met,” you laugh at yourself, shaking your head, a blush dusting your cheeks as your closest friend gapes at you. “What’s that look for?”

“Roronoa Zoro. Marimo. The swordsman. Mossy Hair,” Sanji repeats, “Is one of the smartest people you’ve ever met?”

“He is!” You insist stubbornly. “He’s a menace in battle, Sanj, you’re just too prideful to admit it. I’ve never seen anyone, besides yourself, come even close to thinking as quickly on their feet as he does! The calculations he must do in his mind, it’s amazing!”

Sanji listens to you gush over Zoro, smiling as he realizes how deeply you’ve fallen for the man. And why shouldn’t he? You deserve a chance to be happy, especially with someone you so clearly view as your equal. But that joy fades, after meeting up in Sabody again. You’re still you, clever and quick as ever, but something’s changed. 

Sanji finds out you’re sick when you leave Fishman Island. He finds you late one night bending over the kitchen sink, hand covering your mouth as you struggle to keep petals from spilling past your lips. His heart breaks when you look at him with a watery smile, blood staining your lips red, and small buds and petals falling into the sink as you move your hand away.

“Guess he doesn’t like me back,” you try to laugh, though tears are running down your cheeks as you say this. Sanji can only hold you as you cry into his arms, trembling in grief and pain.

Zoro looks up at him, enraged when Sanji goes to kick him again. He blocks the blow with one of his arms, shaking from the impact.

“You have no right,” Sanji’s voice trembles when he’s pushed away, breathing hard, seeing red. “You have no right to act this way!”

Zoro lets out an angry cry, tackling Sanji and hitting him to the ground. “You’re the reason!” Zoro roars, bringing a fist down where Sanji’s face is, fully intending to kill. The cook moves his head, and Zoro’s fist gets stuck in the deck. “I saw the flowers! Do you know how painful that must have been?! How dare you say I have no right to be angry when you’re the reason the flowers are there! ” Zoro rips his hand from the deck, not caring that he’s bleeding.

“How dare I?” Sanji seethes, looking up at the swordsman in rage, “Do you even know what you're talking about?!”

“I know enough to know that you’re a fucking playboy! ” Zoro gets kicked off by Sanji, who gets up, and they start to circle each other. “You’ve led countless people on, proclaiming your love for them and moving into the next, never thinking your actions will have consequences,” Zoro sneers, hands tightening into fists, before murmuring your name, closing his eyes briefly. “Do you know how I fucking found—”

“I don’t care how you found out, not when you’re the reason someone’s dying in the first place!” Sanji finally screams, a flaming kick slamming into Zoro’s chest, sending him into the railing. The wood groans underneath him, and Zoro looks up at the cook, picked up by his collar and pulled against his face. Angry blue eyes look deep into his. 

“It’s so painful, how deeply someone can be in love with you this entire time and you just brush off everything like it’s nothing!”  Sanji screams, throwing him down, breathing ragged as it finally dawns on him what’s happened, holding his head in his hands.

“Roronoa Zoro, you are a fucking idiot .”

Zoro’s breathing stops, his eyes wide. The crew is silent around him, tense from what just happened. Zoro blinks once. Twice. And then he gets up, crossing the deck in three strides to get to the infirmary, leaving the entire crew in stunned silence as the door swings open then shut, open then shut, and finally closes, as the Straw Hats all stand around in shock.

You’re so hopped up on painkillers that you think Zoro walking into the infirmary is a hallucination. Because you actively smile at him, small and gentle, hands folding on your stomach, in your shitty paper gown, heart rate monitor beeping gently in the background as he makes his way to your bedside, staring down at you in what can only be described as utter pain. 

“It’s not so bad,” You hum, leaning back on your pillow, and Zoro’s breath actively shudders when he sees the outline of some of the roots in your skin, bumping out. “I won’t feel it, anyway. Chopper says I’ll be out when I do go.”

“You won’t,” Zoro insists fiercely, taking your hand. It makes your breath hitch, a dark blush coming to your cheeks. “Oh, gods, how could I let this happen—”

“S’not your fault,” you laugh, a few tears slipping down your cheeks, and you smile at him again, full of regret for making him feel guilty. Even if it’s not reciprocated, you love him. And you don’t want to hurt him, even as you lay on the verge of death. “You can’t help it.”

“But I can,” He looks at you, devastated, slumping over, holding your hand to his forehead. His voice shudders, and he wishes so desperately that things were different. And that his insistence that you would never feel the same hadn’t turned into this, for you. “I— I can’t, I can’t do this without you.”

You only hum, taking your hand from his grip and running your thumb over his cheekbone, wiping away his tears with a small smile. This must be some hallucination, brought on by the drugs. Zoro was cold to you, avoidant, and blunt. Oh, what cruel tricks the mind can play when your organs are shutting down. “Hey, no tears,” you chide, and Zoro lets out a wet, heartbreaking sob, holding your hand to his face so delicately. “You’re smart, You’ll be able to adapt without me. It’s okay—”

“It’s not! ” He finally snaps, falling to his knees and clasping your hand tightly, crying freely as you look down at him in confusion. “I have loved you, for so, so, long, and this isn’t fair !” He looks up at you, gasping for air, “I love you!”

You look at him. He looks at you. You’re shaking, trying your best to push yourself up and he panics, standing up in an instant, trying to gently get you to lay back down. But you’re stubborn, gods, he loves that you’re so stubborn, and you’re fighting against him, tears on your cheeks growing fatter as you look up at him in terror, realizing this isn’t a hallucination.

“You’re joking,” And Zoro wants to die at how afraid you sound. So, so afraid, thinking that he’s playing with you, toying with your emotions like he’s playing with a meal. Because you are the last thing he would ever joke about, and he can’t imagine a world without you in it, somewhere around him, so long as you are near him, he can breathe easier. “You’re playing some cruel joke on me.”

“Never,” he chokes on a sob, wishing so, so desperately he could wipe the tears from your face as you had done for him. “Gods above and below, I swear that I love you. That I have always loved you,” he starts to cry harder, gasping between his sentences and sobs, “And that I’m a fucking idiot, who cannot live without you.”

You stare down at him, looking at the way he refuses to meet your eyes, slumped and crying against your stomach, hands clasped over yours as if in prayer. 

“You love me?” You sound breathless. 

“I love you,” He looks up at you, eyes red and puffy, so uncharacteristic of him, “Please,” he begs, a shaking hand reaching up to touch your cheek, as if he's afraid you’ll crumble under his touch, “Please don’t leave me.”

You let his hand touch your cheek, placing your own on top of it. It is times like this, that you wish your wit didn’t leave you the moment anxiety prickled your skin. You tremble like a leaf in the wind under him, so much smaller, so delicate in your current state as he looks down at you, dwarfing you in every way. His tears burn you, hot and stinging as they fall on your gown, and you feel like you’ve been stripped barren before him, left out in the cold, fully exposed with all of your dirty secrets on display for him to judge.

Yet he doesn’t. Zoro holds you, carefully setting himself on the cot, and cradles you in his arms, shaking when you lay against his chest and cry out, hot tears falling against his scar. He holds you so tenderly as if you are the most precious artifact in the world to him, scared that he will break you, somehow even more than he already has. Guilt weighs heavy on his mind, as you whimper into his chest, his tears still falling as he looks down at you in wonder. You love him. So desperately that the thought of unrequited love, accidentally planted by his careless actions, bloomed into a flower that had nearly killed you, leaving you just a few days from death. 

How will you ever forgive him? He did this to you, caused you pain for gods know how long, before he found you just two hours earlier, shying away from his touch as if he were a demon of hell— which he may as well be, with what he has done to you— to now, held against him, sobbing. 

He thinks of the flowers he found you with. The one that had bloomed as he carried you. How long have you suffered? Had you lain awake at night, crying because of him? Coughing up blood and petals and seeds, because of his cold demeanor? And why couldn’t the gods have done it to him, instead? Why were they so cruel to make you bear all of this on your own, to suffer because of his sins? He looks down at you, how you shake as if you’re afraid this is all going to fade, and a deep pain fills his chest. It is nothing, he thinks bitterly to himself, as he holds you tighter, one hand cupping your head, It is nothing compared to what I have done to you. 

He lets out a low, mournful cry, and you look up at him, startled. 

“How can you love me, after this?” He looks down at you, at your form, noticing how sickly you have become, the thinness of your wrists, and the dullness of your hair. “I’ve hurt you, so terribly...”

“You didn’t know,” you lift a hand to his face, and he bows his head to make it easier for you, going so low that your noses touch. He closes his eyes when both of your hands touch his cheeks, he lets out a small groan from the back of his throat. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have,” he insists, opening his eyes, and looking straight into yours, “I worshiped the ground you walked on. Every word you spoke I hung off of. I should have noticed, it was my duty.”

“Y’here now,” you manage to smile, and it makes his heart break all over again. He should have been there from the start. He could have protected you, stopped the pain before it even started, and he whines at how you still fall into a fit of coughs, though no blooms come up, only a few, wilted petals. Carefully, he tucks you into his jacket, stroking the back of your head until you fall asleep in his arms, held against his chest, quite possibly one of the safest places in the world.

“I will not leave,” he hoists you up, cradling you, and taking you out the door, “I am yours, for as long as you will have me.”

The crew looks at the both of you. Zoro looks regretfully at Sanji, whose steely gaze meets his own, and for the first time in his life, he backs down from it, only holding you closer, before making his way up to his quarters, nestling you safely in his bed, and curling around you, holding you to his chest as he presses his first kiss, of hopefully many throughout his life, to your forehead, his heart fluttering as you mumble out a quiet, “ Love you, Roro..” and cuddle closer to his chest as his hands fall naturally on the back of your head and lower back. 

Roronoa Zoro is an idiot. But he would gladly rip his heart from his chest and hand it to you, still beating, if he could get you to smile.