Tumgik
#anyway. the land remembers what was done to it <3
nanaslutt · 5 months
Note
Can we get a part 2 of when reader asks satoru and suguru if they fucked before
of course ml!! tysm for asking <3
part 1 here~
contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, choking, hair pulling, anal sex (gojo gets fucked) spanking (geto spanks gojo once), dirty talk, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, dare i say sub satoru, sub/dom dynamics if you squint, suguru and reader are competitive, u tag team gojo together
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
“so, when we’re you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?” you asked, raising your eyebrows
gojo froze in place, pausing his efforts to get a towel to clean you up, he slowly turns to you, faux innocence on his stupidly pretty face, a big hand coming to rub the back of his neck
both you and geto stare at him, a smirk plastered on sugurus handsome features, heavy hand holding up his head, awaiting his response,
“now what on earth put that idea in your pretty little head?” he questions, hand falling on his hip sassily as he does an absolutely awful job lying
“oh i don’t knoww,” you drawl, pretending to think, “maybe geto telling you he was going to fuck you like it was the most normal thing in the world,” you scrunched your nose, shrugging
“but what do i know!” your eyebrows raised, suppressing a smile,
“nothing, you know nothing,” he replied, wiggling his finger back and forth in front of him like a child
“don’t tell me you forgot satoru, you might hurt my feelings.” geto teased, from his place between your calves, tilting his head to the side, “i know we were a little tipsy, but you told me i was an unforgettable fuck.” he pouted, faking offense, “you weren’t lying to me were you?”
satoru’s hand still on his hip like the sassy man he was, his mouth just flopping open and closing like a fish out of water, trying to think of a quick retort but failing to come up with anything, because the raven haired man was right
he was a truly unforgettable fuck
“now my feelings are hurt, he didn’t say I was an unforgettable fuck..” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest,
“your mouth almost sucked the soul out of me,” he echoed from the hall
he had taken the opportunity of getos attention on you while he was ‘consoling’ you to slip out of the room, walking back in with a few damp towels, “course you’re an unforgettable fuck, way more than that monkey brained freak,” he hisses at geto, sitting next to you on the bed, using the warm towel to wipe his cum from your cheeks,
“oh? really?” geto let his head fall from his hand, landing against your knee, squinting his eyes at satoru while the blonde continued cleaning down your body, wiping up any fluids the two men had left
“think i remember making you cum..how many times was it again? 4? you were shooting blanks before i was even done with you” he smiles, rubbing your knee fondly with his strong hand while staring at gojo challengingly,
gojo looks away from your breasts, staring back into geto’s deep brown eyes,
“n they only made you cum once..” suguru mumbles into your knee,
“woah! woah, okay, I didn’t know i was competing with you in the first place!” you defend yourself, front half of your body shooting up, making gojo sigh as you accidentally knocked his hand back, “‘s not about quantity anyways, it’s about quality” you said smugly,
“n toru here, said I almost made him die so id say my quality is michelin star,” you proclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him before gojo pushed ur torso back down,
“i’m surrounded by a buncha babies jesus christ,” gojo shakes his head, pulling your leg out of sugurus grasp to access your leaking cunt better, pressing the harsh cloth against you and wiping you as gently as he could,
“sorry,” he winced for you in sympathy when you groaned out a protest, trying to close your legs on his hand at how painfully sensitive the rough towel made you feel, “anyways, you’re both good in bed, kay?” he continues,
“when suguru fucks me, it feels like my fucking guts are getting all messed up to make room for his stupidly big cock,” looking up through his lashes at sugurus smug expression, then back down to focus on what he was doing before making eye contact with you,
your arms still crossed over your chest, “n your throat squeezes me so fucking good i thought i was seein the pearly gates,” hand coming up to pinch your cheek, discarding the towel somewhere on the floor, standing once more to look for someone’s shirt on the floor he can put on,
“ ‘fucks’ as in you’ve had sex multiple times?” you stared in disbelief between the two of the large men, before settling your eyes on suguru
continuing your teasing you spoke up again, “and my compliment still sounded better,” you challenged him, a smug looks gracing your features
“you think so?” the raven haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, before turning his head to look straight at gojo’s supple bent over ass as he picked up a shirt and started to pull it over his head, “well, only one way to be sure which of us is really better.” he says to you quietly before standing
coming up behind gojo and grabbing his raised arms, preventing him from putting on his shirt, “hold that thought satoru, we’re in the middle of a little debate right now” yanking the shirt from satoru’s hands and throwing it back to its prior home on the floor,
“think you can help us? hmm?” he whispers, right into the shell of his best friends ear, sending goosebumps down his neck, “we’ll make it worth your while.”
———————————————————————
almost two hours later and the three of you were still in the same room, on the same bed,
gojo on his back, suguru fucking his cock right into his prostate as you face gojo, bouncing on his overstimulated dick, a thick ring of yours and his combined cum on the base of his overstimulated cock,
“c-cant cum anymore p-please- haaah- fuck please!” gojo whimpers out, thrashing his head back and forth on the sheets as fat tears drip down his face, making his cheeks shine under the light, “‘s too much ‘m too sensitive, ohmygodd” he drags, curses spilling from his lips one after another, his hold on your grip sure to leave nasty bruises as his hips fuck into your warm cunt without his brains permission,
“not till you tell us who’s better,” geto emphasizes with a heavy thrust, hand coming up to choke you out while he gives gojos poor hole the meanest treatment,
“‘s me right? ‘ve made you cum inside me so many times.” you slur, voice strained from getos rough grip on your throat
“bold of you to think that was your doing,” geto scoffs at you, “cmere,” he pulls your head back to press your lips together, other hand interlacing with gojos on your hip
satoru whines underneath the two of you, watching you makeout and feeling your cunt pulse around him because of suguru’s expert tongue work in your mouth had him spiraling
your hands coming up to grab geto’s wrist while he hums into the kiss, biting your lip between his teeth and pulling on it, letting it go before he chases after it and connects your lips once more
“‘m gunna cum again- please fuck- nggghhh i c-cant cum again,” gojo whines, squeezing getos hand and your hip for support as he’s falling into yet another orgasm and fast,
suguru pulls away from the kiss, releasing his grip on your neck as he pushes your lower back down twords gojos chest, “yes you can,” he growls
the raven haired man grabs your hair by the roots and pushes your face into satorus, “help him through it baby,” not needing to be told twice, you grab gojos cheeks with both your hands and slot your lips against his,
“mmmmph- mmm- can-t- p-please i-“ his protests being cut off by your lips, not letting him catch a breath
“got you, cmon” you comfort him in between your assault on his lips, geto reaching between his bestfriend and your body, finding your neglected clit, and rubbing sloppy circles on it, helping you get closer to your own high
“right there with you,” geto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back, so he can watch the show unfolding in front of him,
“gonna fill up this tight ass while you cum inside them, okay? and you’re gonna take everything we give you, right?” geto’s hips losing their rhythm, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm
gojo just whimpers into your mouth, hes trying to speak, he really is, but it’s all too much, he’s completely fucked out
“need to hear you say it satoru,” he emphasizes with a mean thrust, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight hole,
getos hand rubbing sloppily on your clit almost becomes too much, “yes! yesyes please ohmygod- gonna take it- shit-“ gojo’s whiney voice gets out just before he feels your cunt start to squeeze him,
“toru! fuuuuck me!” you whine, the blondes hips mindlessly fucking up into you helping you ride out your high as he cums so fucking hard, bordering on painful as spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you once more,
and he’s gasping, barely coherent broken moans of both of your names on satoru’s tongue
geto not far behind you as he stills, balls deep inside gojos ass, the last push he needed seeing the two of you cum all over each other,
“yesssss fuuuuck” he clenches his teeth together hard, toothy grin emerging on his face, finally letting his head fall back, eyes following suit, rolling to the back of his head, “take it f-fucking t-take it.” fucking each rope of his cum deep into gojo’s ass
all three of you bask in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms, core clenching and unclenching around gojo’s length as you finally come down, picking your head up from gojos neck and smiling at his current state,
he was sniffling and gasping, red faced, tears decorating his lashes, making them look like glitter, he appeared more fucked out than ever
geto behind him slowly pulls out his softening cock, and gojo lets out a long groan of overstimulation when he does so, digging his fingers into the fat of your sides and wincing, “fuck, please don’t move yet, might pass out if you do” he says to you, his poor dick crying for relief, still snug inside your pussy, twitching every so often against your walls
you giggle, peppering kisses all over his face, he lets his eyes shut, finally relaxing a little as he relishes in the feeling of your soft lips on his skin,
suguru coming around to sit by his head
when you stop your assult of kisses on his porcelain face geto grabs gojos cheek furthest away from him and makes him turn his head into his thick thigh, “so,” geto starts, rubbing his thumb on gojos cheek, “who was better?” he asks, cocky smile finding home once more on his face
gojos eyes shoot open, looking at him slightly panicked, squeezing your upper thighs for support before he speaks, looking back between the two of you,
“i….im afraid if i don’t answer we will never leave this room.” he gulps
geto confirms his fears, tilting his head to the side, face sporting the fakest smile of comfort gojo has ever seen, “you would be absolutely right.”
9K notes · View notes
sttoru · 8 months
Note
can we get a pervert toji? as nasty as possible :3
“ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ! ”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
ෆ note. yehahshsbe yeeass please i love perv!toji.. :3 actually any perv!character s my weakness hehdhen i went a little wild writing this oopsie this is so detailed ohmyogddd anyways….. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !
ෆ tags. perv!toji x female reader. somnophilia, age gap (reader early 20s, toji mid 30s), panties stealer, m! masturbation, daddy kink, implied threesome, cunnilingus, breeding (talks of pregnancy), manhandling, overstimulation, size difference, cum play, boob job, name calling (slut), cervic fucking, mating press, calls you ‘baby, little girl, doll’, uhh anyway toji’s just a big pervert who gets turned on by anything. includes compilation of seperate, small drabbles.
Tumblr media
toji, whom you wouldn’t have guessed was a pervert of any kind at the start of your relationship. your first intimate experience with him went as expected; it was soft and slow vanilla sex. you were just getting to know each other’s preferences in bed, so for the first few times there were almost to no signs of toji’s sexual perversity. all you remember was him being the dominant one. nothing more.
but oh, there was so much more to that. it was just hidden from your view in the early stages of your relationship. you didn’t have any knowledge of what toji was doing behind your back or what his actual thoughts were during the times you’ve been intimate.
toji, whom you didn’t know wanted to get straight into business from the very beginning of your sex life; to have your wrists pinned above your head, his hips slamming into your small cunny and molding it to remember the shape of his big cock. toji needed to see your helpless body moaning, screaming, crying and drooling from underneath him. but he couldn’t achieve that just yet; he needed to take it easy on you at first—to build up the trust between you two in bed. especially because you weren’t as experienced as he was.
toji, whom could only count on his imagination to fulfil his secret desires. he does this whenever you’re staying over and are asleep in his bed next to him. the entire apartment would be dead quiet except for toji’s muffled grunts and the faint wet sounds of him jerking off underneath the blanket.
you’d be in deep slumber with your back facing him and he’ll pleasure himself at simply the sight of your body. the older man loved just how vulnerable and innocent you seemed in your sleep—leaving your figure open and accessible to his view.
the strokes on his cock would get faster each time his eyes land on the shape of your ass. toji always imagines how it’d look when he’s giving you backshots, how the fat would jiggle with each thrust or smack of his hand. he wants to see your plump ass bounce back on him and maybe even have it covered in his cum.
toji, who sometimes stops palming himself just to turn your body around to face him. that way he can have a great view of your tits and fantasise of putting his cock between them, having the pair swallow his entire length once he squeezes them together. he’s never talked to you about it, but he will one day when you’re ready to explore more kinks and stuff in the bedroom.
toji, who keeps a pair of your panties in a secret drawer. those are his special panties, aka, the ones he uses to jerk off when you’re away. he’s done the filthiest of stuff with them; he has sniffed the insides-as if the scent of your sweet cunt lingered on the fabric- he has wrapped the cloth around his thick cock and even came multiple times all over it. he always imagines it being your pussy that he spills his load in; not his fist nor the panties.
toji, whose switch gets flipped the moment you (accidentally) call him ‘daddy’ in bed. it slipped from your mouth in the heat of the moment and the older man had to stop all movements to stare down at you— the scarred corner of his lip twitching and eventually forming a full on smirk.
not only that: it was like his entire demeanour changed. toji got more arrogant, cocky, confident and especially more dominant ever since then. that slip up of yours was the reason toji decided to let go of any restraints and just fuck you like he was always meant to do: nasty, dirty and roughly.
“yeah? mhh, fuck— say that again f’me, little girl— c’mon. if ya won’t, i’ll pull out and leave y’r cunt empty, so you better hurry up.”
toji, whose libido only increases with age rather than the opposite. you’d think dating an older guy in his mid 30s would mean that he’s going to be less sexually active. well, toji was your living proof that that wasn’t the case.. at all. he gets his dick hard just by seeing a tiny bit of your cleavage, never says ‘no’ to fucking you no matter where or when and has so much stamina that he can go on until you’re passed out. sometimes you’re fucked so full of his cum to the point that it’s impossible to push it all back into you— the white liquid just keeps leaking out of your poor pussy no matter what.
it makes toji super proud whenever you’re passed out on the bed, body still twitching and quivering in your sleep whilst he finishes himself within a few more pumps. he’s proud that he still has it in him and can last way longer compared to you, who’s still young and full of energy.
“aww, poor little baby— fucked ya right to sleep, hm? c’mere.”
toji, whose secret drawer slowly piles up with raunchy pictures of you in all kinds of comprising positions. most of them are images taken from his point of view which he captures between videos. some of them are of your ass with his dick visible between your folds, others are pictures of your fucked out self— the state which toji thinks you look the most beautiful in.
his cum dripping from your cunt, your hair a mess, sweaty skin glistening under the dim light of the room, cheeks stained with your own tears; that afterglow was something toji liked to admire. that’s why keeps those memories in his drawer (but also to masturbate to them when you’re not around, of course).
toji, who’s on cloud nine whenever he gets the chance to drown your fertile womb in multiple loads of his hot cum. he was already over the moon once you told him he could hit it raw— but then you were begging him to cum in you? that man was not going to stop at just one round. that was set in stone.
the mating press is his favourite position since it allowed him to penetrate you deep— pink tip almost painfully hitting your cervix over and over again. toji also likes it because he can get to see your pretty face whenever he shoots ropes of his potent seed inside of your womb.
toji, who’d never admit it out loud, but desperately needs to see you grow a little belly full of a new life. one which you carry with you everywhere— even whilst attending your college lectures. he can’t get the image out of his head; you wearing those skintight shirts or materinity clothes that show off your swollen stomach. he’s gonna be so proud walking next to you on the streets, knowing you’re his baby mama.
“mmh, shit— gnna fuck a baby into you, yeah? haah,, wanna see you carry my child ‘round and have you be my baby mama. hmm, you’d like that? i knew you’d do, slut— i bet everyone at y’r college is gonna know who knocked you up.”
toji, who has dirty fantasies of sharing you with his agent. he’s never thought about it before, but there was one single moment that changed his mind.
shiu visited his place once to discuss a business deal and you coincidentally were over at toji’s as well. you were kind enough to serve the two men a meal while they were discussing something which you didn’t understand. you sat down and joined them anyway (much to shiu’s dismay since it was confidential information he was sharing, but toji insisted you’d stay or he won’t take on the job. he could be petty every now and then.)
toji’s mind began wandering to some dirty thoughts as he looked at you, peacefully sitting between the two men, your fingers playing with toji’s out of boredom. your lover was instantly intrigued by the idea of having you sandwiched between shiu and him—your holes stuffed with two cocks at the same time. or just you sucking toji off while shiu was pounding your tight pussy. that alone made toji’s dick twitch in his pants.
once shiu was gone, toji wasted no time and pinned you against the wall near the front door— kicking his sweatpants and underwear away whilst his calloused fingers pulled your panties to the side;
“c’mere, lemme put that cunt to use— did y’know how close i was to jus’ fuckin’ you right in front of him? to let him see how good of a girl you can be f’me? mhmm, might even call him back so he join us.”
toji, who eats pussy like an absolute madman. he’s obsessed with eating you out and making it messy—his spit and your body fluids are always all over his lips, chin and cheeks when he’s done with you. one moment you’re chilling on the couch in your shorts and in the next you’re arching your back as toji’s head was nestled between your thighs.
he’d moan and grunt against you, his voice creating vibrations against your cunt which only adds to the pleasure that his mouth and tongue were giving you. toji’s nose would rub against your wet folds, his big hands holding your thighs apart while his tongue was lapping up all that it could. he definitely sniffs your pussy as well from time to time;
“mmm— aw, gonna cum already? do it, wanna taste you so bad, wanna see you cum all over my tongue. c’mon, you can do it—mhmmm, yes you can. do it for me, doll. cum for daddy. give it to him.”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
5K notes · View notes
rachalixie · 8 months
Text
forgive me for what i haven't done
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: you arrive at your enemy's kingdom under the guise of making peace. the prince being nice to you wasn't part of the plan.
genre: strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort
warnings: she/her reader, reader's father is emotionally manipulative and physically harms her, mentions of violence
word count: 17.5k
a/n: absolute massive thank you to @sulfurcosmos, @isilentprincess, and @woahfruity for reading this through and giving me your honest feedback. i truly appreciate you <3 this fic has sent me through the five stages of grief.
Tumblr media
you can’t ignore the bruising grip your father has on your arm as he walks you to the steps of the large palace. the journey here was a mere two hours, but it feels like this palace was built out of another world altogether. it’s shorter than your own, absent are the dull reaching peaks and towers of your home, traded for warm bricks covered in snaking ivy and the shining sun peeking through powdery clouds. where it lacks in height, it makes up for in its expanse. the building was wider than any you’ve ever seen. 
it was more beautiful than any building you’ve ever seen, too. 
you hope your nerves don’t show as you throw one last glance back at the carriage you arrived in; it would soon take away your handmaidens that had made the journey with you, and you wouldn’t see them again until you went home. it makes your heart ache that the only people you felt comfortable with were leaving you behind. you try and focus on the present instead, knowing that wallowing in self-pity would get you nowhere. you had hours of meeting strangers ahead of you, making polite small talk with them and learning whatever information you could about the royal family until you could go to bed and be upset in private. you weren’t here for pleasure anyways, your father had reminded you as the carriage had pulled in. you were here for a reason.
the first person you make eyes with is the king, a kind looking man, hair and beard speckled with gray and a soft smile on his face as he takes in his visitors. he had invited you and your father here, a gesture of goodwill, an unspoken plea for peace between your two kingdoms. 
“they want peace,” your father had scoffed, throwing the letter from the neighboring king to his desk. you watched as it slid off and fluttered to the floor. “the scum that killed your grandfather want peace, and they dare ask me to negotiate a treaty with them.”
“well,” you started, swallowing down your nerves like you did every time you spoke to your father. since your mother passed, all those years ago, you had taken over the role of his confidant, like he did with her. though, he never listened to your advice when you gave it; you were simply a body for him to talk at, to pour out his grief and frustration out on. “did the king not overthrow his own father? he is not the man that hurt our family, and i assume neither are his sons. can we not let the past stay in the past?”
the two kingdoms are small - a unity between you would open opportunities for new trading, allies in battle, new paths to resources that your people don’t see.
“their bloodline is rotten,” he says, definitive. “i would be doing the world a service by ridding it of their pitiful existence.”
his words of extremity did not surprise you; he spoke of all of the neighboring kingdoms in this way. he was not one for alliances, keeping the borders of his territory locked to outsiders, deeming them not fit to enter his kingdom. you can barely remember a time when foreigners or immigrants inhabited the now barren lands.
“and the people in their kingdom?” you question. “they are truly innocent. will they be given refuge here once their kingdom has fallen?”
“i do not care!” he spits out at you, eyes burning in anger, and you shrink back a little. “they will burn along with their miserable rulers. i will find a way to take them down, all of them, to make them pay for what they did to my family. and you, gods help me, will do as i say.”
and you would. in truth, you had barely even considered going against him. you were alone, you had no options other than following through with his wishes, no escape from him and his cruelty. you had nowhere to go that he would not find you. and yet, he remained vexed as he moved closer to you, speaking quietly in a manner that was more terrifying than if he was yelling at you. his fingers curl around your upper arm, like a warning-
“welcome,” the king’s voice breaks you out of your memory, and you muster up a smile for him. “thank you for making the journey here. and please, call me stephen. you are esteemed guests here, no need for formalities.”
your father doesn’t offer the same notion back, nodding coldly at your side. king stephen furrows his brow for a moment, and it’s clear on his face that he’s caught off guard. so expressive for a royal, you muse as he shakes his head and the smile returns to his face.
“my sons,” stephen gestures to the boys standing by his side, the ones you had yet to lay your eyes on. “crowned prince christopher, his betrothed, the lady roseanne, and our youngest, felix.”
betrothed? you did not know the older son was engaged. this complicates things. you can feel the anger coming off in waves from your father, and you place your hand on his forearm for a moment. not now, please, you mentally beg, and you almost sigh in relief when the tension leaves his body, turning your attention to the two royals in front of you.
the taller of the two dons a mop of curly hair under his circlet, cleanly pressed clothes shining with the royal blue of their family. a striking woman is at his side, an arm loosely curled around his. as he moves forward to greet your father, linking arms like the king had, your attention is drawn to the boy left standing alone. 
the shorter boy is what you can only describe as ethereal. his features are sharp in all the right places, smoothed out by soft planes and dips covered in starlight scattered freckles. his clothes are similar to that of his brother’s, but no crown adorns his head. 
he might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. it makes your knees weak. 
“i am felix,” he says, his voice deeper than you would expect from the gentle features of his face. he dips his head a bit, a sign of respect, as he takes your hand and presses a gentle kiss to the back of it. your voice is steady when you respond with your own name, and you’re glad for it. 
his attention is diverted when your father’s hand lands on your shoulder, his touch more gentle than it ever is whilst away from prying eyes. 
“my daughter, princess y/n,” he announces, a proud smug on his face when you shyly curtsey. he must think your timidness is a ploy to get their trust, and not as a result of the raging nervousness boiling under your skin. 
“it’s an honor to meet you, your highnesses,” you meet each of their eyes, looking for any sign of malice, but you find none.
“come inside, please,” the king beckons, and the circle of knights that had been flanking him move aside gracefully to make way to the tall archway leading inside the palace. you’re once again taken away by the beautiful architecture inside, melting candles lining the walls made of warm brick. “we will begin the peace talks tomorrow, spend the day settling from your journey.”
“we will go freshen up,” your father states, cutting your exploration short with a poorly concealed fake smile donning his face. you hope no one else can see through him the way you can. “and we will meet you for dinner?”
he doesn’t wait until the king answers before he pulls you off to a hallway, beckoning over a servant and barking at him to show you both to your chambers. you pray to the gods that your hosts see your father’s unorthodox behavior as a difference in customs, rather than rudeness. the servant looks flustered, eyes wide as he directs you to your adjoined chambers, and you almost feel bad for him. you’re sure he can tell when your father’s anger returns, getting stronger the further you walk from the royal family, and you keep your head bowed until the two of you are behind closed doors. 
he lets go of your arm harshly, almost throwing you off of him in his haste and if you weren’t so afraid you would remind him that he probably shouldn’t yell as you’re sure he was about to do.
“he is engaged?” he growls out, teeth gritted together in fury. “this was not in the intel that i was given. this does not fit into our plan!”
his plan was for you to woo the prince, get him to fall in love with you, and then to kill his father and take the throne. nevermind the extensive gaps that he didn’t care to think out, that you weren’t brave enough to tell him about. the thought of the prince not going along with the neighboring king taking over his kingdom never crossed his mind; it was either extreme hubris or immense stupidity on his part. perhaps it was both.
“will i have to marry him? the prince?” you asked, avoiding his eyes. you kept your voice as leveled as you could, but you couldn’t completely mask the apprehension you were feeling.
“you will do whatever is necessary to gain his trust. if the boy proposes, you will accept.” he said, clinical and cold like he wasn’t gambling with your life. if your father was correct, these men were murderers, men who killed others in cold blood. what would the prince do if he discovered your father’s plan? how long was he expecting you to keep up this charade?
“control yourself,” he says when he takes in the tears pricking at your eyes, the wobbling of your lips as the gravity of his words sink in. “those of our class do not weep so easily.”
“what do we do now?” you ask, regretting it almost immediately when his anger turns towards you. you had wished, foolishly so, that he may forget this revenge-fueled nonsense and let you go home. 
“i do not know, stupid girl. why do you not think of something instead of having me do everything for you?” you pray that no servants were listening in through the door, and no knights were making their patrol past the hallway. with how loud he’s speaking, there would be no hiding his ill intentions. “i thank the gods you were born a woman and i can marry you off. with how useless you are, there would be no helping my kingdom with you as a ruler.”
the words sting, your heart aches at the cold insult he’s thrown at you, but it’s not the first time he’s said something like this. it’s at the tip of your tongue to tell him that this wasn’t even your plan, that you didn’t want to betray this kingdom in the first place, that you’re tired of being his pawn in a game only he wants to play. you want to tell him that you would be a better ruler than he is if given the chance, that you almost hope for the day that he keels over and dies because you would be free of him. but you’ve learned to hold your tongue in times like this, knowing that he only says these things out of frustration; flashes of the kind man he used to be when you were younger play through your mind, calming you down as you scramble for some kind of answer. 
“i will go after the younger one,” you start, a half-baked plan forming in your head. “if king stephen and christopher are out of the way, he is next in line for the throne, is he not? we just have a couple more people to get out of the way. befriend the king, distract him and make him trust you. i will handle the prince.”
you disappointed yourself by expecting some kind of verbal affirmation, some kind of praise for doing something right, but all you get from your father is a curt nod and a gesture to leave his chambers.
a nod was better than nothing. a nod was silent assurance that you were doing something right, that he was wrong about you. that you could think for yourself. 
when you enter the hallway, you catch a glimpse of the servant from earlier peeking around the corridor. you smile at him, hoping that he had heard nothing and that your face didn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions clouding around in your head. he simply smiles back, foxy eyes crinkling and he nods at you before disappearing. 
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
dinner was an incredibly awkward affair; all throughout the meal, you couldn’t avoid meeting eyes with felix from where he was sitting across from you, and you flushed and looked away every time. his eyes were striking, soft browns highlighted with specks of gold reflected from the candlelight. this was the boy you were supposed to woo and manipulate, and you couldn’t even meet his eyes. gods help you.
you weren’t sure if your hosts could sense the concealed hostility in your father’s voice, but you could. he was doing a poor job of hiding his apathy, answering king stephen’s questions with short words or grunts. he eyed his food with judgment and took hesitant bites, even though you thought it was exceptionally made.
even the banquet hall itself was remarkable, banners of blue and gold hanging from the tall ceilings and plants of various kinds lining the walls. light shone down from the high windows, bathing the royals in front of you in a golden light.
“is the food not to your liking?” king stephen asked, a small frown gracing his features when he saw your father’s mostly full plate. 
“this is amazing, like nothing i have ever tasted before,” you voiced, directing the attention to yourself. your own plate was nearly scraped clean, and you might have licked it to savor the flavors if you didn’t have your royal dignity to uphold. 
your heart pounded in your chest from addressing the king so directly. 
“good, i am glad,” stephen smiled warmly at you, quelling your nerves, and his smile reached his eyes in a way your father’s hadn’t for years. “i shall make sure to send your compliments to our main cook, he was worried that the meal would not suit our guests’ tastes.”
“minho worries too much,” christopher laughs, meeting eyes with his fiancée. the way he looks at her sends warmth up your spine, like you’re witnessing kindling sparkling into a burning flame. “his cooking is the best in the entire kingdom.”
it might have turned you off that he was boasting like that if it wasn’t about someone whose status was below his. a crowned prince, giving compliments like that to a palace worker? kitchen staff, at that? it was different, for sure. 
the thought stuck with you for the rest of the night, even as your head hit your pillow at night. though you weren’t so naive to think that first impressions were indicative of their entire nature, it seems that the image of this royal family that your father painted for you might have been more skewed than you initially thought.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
while your father spent the next day with king stephen and their advisors, beginning the process of drafting and scrapping and rewriting peace treaties that you knew would never come to fruition, you were left to your own devices. venturing out of your chambers where you were bound to run into strangers was unsettling, but you pushed the feeling aside as you got dressed.
your father no doubt assumed you were jumping right into spending time gaining felix’ trust, but you didn’t know how to approach the younger prince to fulfill your part of the deal. you didn’t even know how to find him, or who to ask for his whereabouts; the sheltered walls of your home did not provide many opportunities for you to practice talking to people. 
the people here did not seem to have the same problem. wherever you turned, visiting nobles and palace staff sent you smiles, casual how are you’s and i hope you slept well’s handed out to you like spare change. it made your head spin, and the desire to retreat back into your chambers was strong.
you found your way outside instead, through an archway made of brown stone. the fresh air often helped you think. 
your casual walk allowed you to take in details that you couldn’t when you first arrived. the trees and greenery surrounding the palace were things you did not get at home, the forever winter killing off any color you longed to see. crops and livestock were held miles from the palace, outside of the reach of your vision and the invisible leash your father had kept you on, but here they thrived under the midday sun. you had a horse that you called your own, but you were only allowed to use him to travel to nearby towns on the outskirts of the palace property, right outside of the strong walls that surrounded it. none of the villagers there spoke to you past cold formalities, no matter how hard you tried, so eventually you gave up, settling for spending your time inside the castle.
here you found that you simply had to step outside of the palace walls to feel the soft grass beneath your feet, to smell the earth under your nose, to drink in the vibrant pinks and purples of the flowers in the gardens. there were so many trees, tall and strong with no walls blocking your vision of the soft foliage. you found a quiet bench under a tree, leaves and twigs decorating it’s surface from disuse, and you decided to call it your own despite having no ownership of any part of these grounds. 
no ownership yet, if your father had anything to do about it. 
you sat there for hours, drinking in the scenery as the sun made it’s path across the clear sky. you had expected boredom to creep around the edges of your mind, but it never came. the tranquility was so addictive that you found yourself back there, on that same bench, the next morning. and the next, your feet carrying you there before you were even fully awake.
“penny for your thoughts?” a deep voice disrupts your peace on that third day as a slender body sits on the bench next to you, just close enough that the warmth of his body touches your skin. you’re equal parts relieved and distressed when you see that it’s felix, and you smile at him in greeting, hoping that it didn’t come out as a grimace. this time when you meet his eyes, you make an effort to not look away.
“i do not get to see things such as this at home,” you wave your hand towards the garden, towards the birds chirping and the gentle sound of a stream bubbling. “it is beautiful. serene, you know?”
you don’t know how to act around him, and you certainly didn’t expect him to approach you. your words came out awkward, sounding unpracticed and superficial, and you try and hold back a flush from taking over your face. you hoped it wasn’t outstandingly clear how uncomfortable you were in his presence. do better than that, your father’s voice rings in your head.
“i agree,” he turns away from you, drinking in the picture-perfect view in front of you. “i am very lucky to call this place my home. what is yours like?”
“gray,” you deadpan, and the responding laugh he grants you makes your heart skip. better.
“there must be something beautiful there, it cannot just be you, right?” he says, a playful smirk tugging his lips upwards. 
“flattery will get you nowhere, my prince,” you shoot back, enjoying the moment of quick banter between the two of you before your words turned sober. “when my mother was alive, she would paint the hallways and the walls of our chambers with beautiful flowers and vines and clouds. the flowers were my favorite part, she painted them in such beautiful shades of purples and yellows. most of them have been painted over, but the ones in my chambers remain. those are my favorite part of the castle, the most beautiful things i have ever seen.” 
“i would love to see it one day,” he says, adamant and genuine as he takes your hand in his to squeeze it once before letting it go.
“maybe you could visit?” you look up at him through your lashes, a fake gesture to toy with him that left you feeling staticky and wrong. it was a complete lie - you would never subject this beautiful boy to the somberness of your home, lest it dull his brightness. even though he might not have a home soon, you push away the thought.
“only if it means i can see more of you, and not having you hide away,” he says, pointedly, though his face shows no malice. 
“it is overwhelming, for me,” you explain, embarrassed at having been caught. “to be surrounded by strangers.”
“yes,” his eyes are far away for a moment, his head deep in thought. “i understand.”
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
the next morning you had only just left your chambers, planning for another day exploring the greenery around the palace, when you spot felix leaning against the wall opposite of the door. he approaches you with a warm smile and takes your hand, his skin soft under your fingertips. how long had he been waiting there for you?
“my lady,” he bows his head, bringing the back of your hand to his lips to press a kiss there, as he had done when you first arrived. “would you care for a walk around the palace? it would be my honor to be your escort for the day.”
“if you ask so nicely,” you smile back, humor seeping into your voice naturally. “how can i refuse?”
“excellent,” his smile widens and he holds an arm out for you to take. “i’ll take you to meet my friends! that way, you will have friends here, too, instead of strangers.”
his friends, you thought, would be nobles and lords and other members of high class that you would have to make fake pleasantries with. while his gesture was sweet, you had no interest making relations with the elite members of this court, the ones whose lives you were planning on upending. the last thing you expected was for him to take you straight to the kitchens, down winding hallways and corridors, marked by the ever increasing aroma of delicious baked goods and mouthwatering herbs.
“minho!” felix exclaims, bouncing on his heels excitedly, catching the attention of a man who was frowning deeply at a pot bubbling over a fire. “this is y/n, i am taking her around the castle today. y/n, this is minho, the king of our kitchens, and a dear friend of mine.”
the way he introduced you, so casually, was perplexing; no one had ever spoken your name without princess or lady preceding it. even more so was his casual use of king when talking about someone of lower class, a term that should be solely reserved for his father. 
“hello, my lady,” minho looks up, his lips turning up into a graceful smile, slightly crooked teeth peeking through his lips. his hair curls around his ears a bit, dainty jewelry adorning his lobes, and his features look almost sculpted in perfection. he’s absolutely beautiful.
“is everyone in your kingdom this pretty?” you blurt out, forgetting yourself, and minho barks into laughter. felix’s hand moves to lay on your arm, right at the crook of your elbow, and if it wasn’t for the amused smile on his face you may have thought you upset him.
“you are one to talk, my lady,” minho says, delight on his face that quickly morphs into exasperation as the pot he was monitoring earlier begins to bubble over.
“careful, min,” felix drawls out, his fingers curling further into your arm. almost possessively. interesting. “she is our guest, not someone for you to flirt with.”
“alright, your royal highness,” minho says distractedly, stirring vigorously. “now stop distracting me, unless you want raw meat and vegetables for dinner tonight.” 
felix grins in response, shooting a wave at the cook before leading you to a door in the back of the kitchens. it follows outside to a set of fields you hadn’t laid eyes on before, a cobblestone path winding through it like a river.
“so, do you think i am pretty too?” he teases as he leads you down the path, towards a set of men - knights - sparring in the midday sun. “or is that reserved for minho?”
“well-” you laugh, startled at his boldness. “i will not lie, you certainly are beautiful. but do not let it get to your head.”
“well as you said, flattery gets you nowhere, my lady,” he laughs too, and the two of you break all composure as you lean into each other. it’s almost too easy to be casual with him, too natural to break the carefully taught formalities that were drilled into you. you thought it might be a challenge, or awkward at the minimum, to get close to the prince, but you’re finding it to be quite an enjoyable experience thus far.
as you approach the knights, sweaty and panting from the exertion of their practice, you point out two men stand out from the rest, wearing armor with the royal colors showing proudly rather than the simple silver of the other knights. they held themselves with grace, power exuding off of them almost effortlessly, and they spark your interest.
“changbin and jisung,” felix points them out. “chris’ most trusted knights, and our friends. i pray for you if you ever get into a poker match with those two, they’ll cheat you out of every coin in your purse, the rascals.”
his voice is fond as his words are teasing, a juxtaposition that fascinates you. you don’t think you can recall a time where someone has used an insult as a term of endearment as he had just done. you lock this away in the back of your mind to ponder on later as you take in the two knights in front of you. the shorter one is clearly fond of exercise, if the muscles that even his heavy armor can’t hide is any clue. his hair is as dark as a raven’s feathers, curling from sweat, and his face is kind. the one next to him is slimmer, but no less strong. his face is round, cheeks swelling from the gummy smile he’s wearing, and his eyes are so pretty. 
“felix!” the more muscular one, changbin as felix had pointed out, beams at the man beside you. “care to join? your moves must be getting rusty with all the sitting around you royals do.”
felix sends a glare to changbin, no heat behind the gesture, and him and jisung laugh in response. 
“i have company, you scoundrels,” felix complains, almost in a whine. “could you not just boast about my prowess on the battlefield? you had to make me look bad?”
“please, lix,” jisung teases before turning his attention to you. “he may not be the most powerful warrior, but he is quick. the most agile swordwork i have seen, probably. it is like he is dancing with his opponent.”
felix flushes, shy under the compliments of his knights, his friends. 
“hyunjin and seungmin must be around here somewhere,” felix muses as he walks you down the corridor lined with knights, back inside and down a hallway you haven’t seen before. “this is where mine and chris’ chambers are. hyunjin is chris’s personal secretary, and seungmin is mine. though, i would consider him more of a menace than anything else.” 
his voice is lined with fondness again, like the way he spoke about minho and changbin and jisung. it’s the same manner as how he talks about his father and his brother, his family. it was like they were all his kin, regardless of blood.
“you are on a first name basis with the staff here?” you ask after a lull of silence, curiosity winning over your hesitance. your own handmaidens did not address you by name, the women who were your closest companions since you were young girls. you had never even thought to grant them the privilege of doing so.
“we treat everyone with the same respect, regardless of status or bloodline,” he says, words sounding a little colder than usual. 
“do not misunderstand,” you quickly correct, not wanting to offend him. because you want him to trust you, your mind supplies. not because you want him to like you. “i think it admirable. it is…different, to how things are in my kingdom. i am simply not used to it. i would prefer it this way, if i had the choice.”
it wasn’t a complete lie; you were searching for words that would win him your favor, but it surprised you how naturally they came to you. 
“do you not?” he furrows his brow, looking at you in confusion. whatever iciness he had before had melted into befuddlement, like he genuinely didn’t understand. “have a choice, i mean.”
you don’t know how to tell him you don’t have many choices at all. 
the silence takes over the both of you again, less comfortable than before, but he remains quiet as if he can sense the thoughts whirling inside of your head. it’s only when you reach the limits of the palace property that you’re thrown out of your mind, glancing at him with unspoken question.
“i thought we could take a stroll through the lower towns to end our day,” he explains, no signs of lingering animosity from your previous conversation. “it is my favorite place to go to get away from the palace once in a while.”
the lower towns, like most things in this kingdom, were not what you had expected. there were children playing in the streets, laughing and screaming while their parents watched on in exasperation. markets lined the cobblestones you walked on, selling vibrant fabrics and jewelry, freshly baked goods and crisp produce, and a variety of trinkets that overwhelmed you in the best way, patrons were striking bargains for products on every corner, trading goods for coin, a smile on each face you encountered.
it was a good distinction from the towns you were used to, where knights patrolled to ensure nothing was amiss. people there lived in fear, not in joy. everywhere you turned, people smiled at the prince beside you, and he would wave back or offer a small nod, ever polite. the few times you had managed to sneak into the lower towns to buy paints and canvas or trinkets as gifts for your handmaidens, you had gone in a thick cloak that covered your face lest you be recognized. here, walking around in your day dress, you felt almost naked. 
a child runs up to felix and wraps his small arms around his legs, bouncing excitedly on his heels.
“prince lixie!” he squeals, and felix leans down to ruffle his hair, a large smile on his face. it might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. “is that a princess?”
it takes you a moment to realize that the child is asking about you. you don’t interact with children much, your father would never allow them to touch you like the boy is with felix.
“yes, she is,” felix whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. “a very beautiful princess. why don’t you say hello?”
“hello,” the boy turns shy, peeking his head out from behind felix’ leg. the child, you found, could be forgiven for his lack of decorum when addressing you. he had a lot to learn at his young age. “i am joshua.”
“hi, little one,” you say, a little awkward as felix’ eyes are trained on you. “i am y/n.” 
you were at loss for words, but the few words you managed to give had the boy practically beaming at you in response. you watch as felix tells him to return to his friends, because you and him were on official palace business, and the boy nods sagely before scampering off.
“sorry about him,” he says once lucas is out of sight. “i have been visiting him in the village since he was very little. i have taken a liking to him, naughty as he is. he is the son of one of the merchants here, and he lost his mother years ago. i see myself in him.” 
“he is precious,” you take his arm again as he continues down the path. “i always wanted to visit the children in the orphanages at home, but i-” you cut yourself off, a habit you’ve taken to since arriving here. i need to learn to think before speaking. “i have not gotten the chance.”
“the children here are lovely,” he says. “i like learning from them. they keep me humble, remind me that not everyone is born with such privilege.”
he says it so simply, as if it’s his right to question such things; a man born into royalty surely has no business spending time with lower-class children, learning from them. it is one thing to offer them a coin, something that the kingdom could clearly spare. but what could they possibly teach him that his well-respected tutors could not?
you didn’t bring it up, afraid that he would react the same way he had earlier, when you questioned his informality with his staff. afraid that maybe, he would react in anger, though you couldn’t quite imagine the perfect lines of his face twisted into anything but peace.
before the two of you leave, he stops at one of the many stands selling an array of sparking jewelry and scarves, and he asks you if you would like anything. you want to say yes, the handmade twists of metal and dyed fabrics captivating you, but you shyly shake your head. 
you almost miss his forlorn expression when you refuse, turning away from the stand. it’s better this way, to not receive gifts from him. there will be nothing in your possession to remember him by, then.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
as felix drops you off at your door in the evening, the day comes crashing down on you - he’s so kind. everyone here is, from the royal family to the staff and the people living in the villages outside the gates. throughout the entire day you spent with felix, you did not once think about why you were here, simply enjoying his company and learning about him, not the secrets you were tasked with uncovering. 
it’s given you a lot to think about.
as he leaves, he runs a gentle hand down your arm from your shoulder to your wrist, squeezing gently before walking away. even his strides are made in lovely, even steps that makes him look other-worldly.
you lean against the doorframe, taking a deep breath to try and settle yourself, and it’s then that a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye captures your attention. 
a servant is standing just down the hallway opposite from the one felix disappeared into, the same servant who had walked you to your chambers the very first day. the first person here who had smiled at you for no reason other than to be kind.
“hello,” you call out softly, beckoning him closer to you; you don’t know who looks more nervous out of the two of you as he approaches you with uncertain steps. “what is your name?”
“jeongin, my lady,” he almost whispers, hesitant, wide eyes trained on you. 
“nice to meet you, jeongin,” your lips tug upwards. he’s adorable. 
“we have met before,” he blurts out, smacking his hands over his mouth. “i am sorry, i spoke out of turn. i just meant…” 
he trails off, looking down shyly. 
“meant what, jeongin?” you ask, sure to keep your voice light and free of demand despite the curiosity starting to burn in you. what did he mean, you’ve met before? surely, he means within the palace earlier that week, right?
“i used to live in your kingdom,” he admits, his fingers playing with them hem of his tunic. “when i was younger. my mother was a servant in your castle.”
“really?” you gasp, understanding and puzzlement taking over simultaneously. 
“yes, but i left when i was still young,” he explains. “i remember you, though. you were always kind. i admired you for that.”
“thank you, jeongin,” you manage to force out, knowing that you did not deserve his kind words, even as informal as they were given. he was wrong; you were just as wicked as the rest of the nobles in your court. perhaps you were simply better at hiding it.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
your father pulls you into an empty corridor near your chambers the next day, his strength harsh enough to make you stumble over your feet.
“what have you learned,” he speaks in hushed tones, scared of being overheard. it’s more of a demand than a question, as if he simply expected you to have what he needs after such little time.
“i spent the entire day with him yesterday,” you start, choosing your words carefully, lest he discover that you’re actually enjoying yourself here. “he took me around the castle, and i have an idea of the layout, in the case that we need to make a hasty exit.”
“anything else?” he pushes, leaning further into your space. 
“they are…unusually fond of their staff here,” you divulge, more reluctant to give up this information. “they might be of use.”
“good girl,” his smirk is like frost, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. a gesture that, to others, may have seemed paternal, protective. though his touch sends an unpleasant shiver up your spine, his words satisfy some sick satisfaction within you - the need for his approval was met.
“your mother would be proud.”
as he walks away, it makes you queasy how those words make you straighten up, proud. pleased. living in the echo of your mother’s footsteps for so long made you doubtful that you would ever be able to fill them, but maybe this was a start.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
you see felix later, walking to the banquet hall with another boy dressed in simple clothes. they pause by the entrance, deep in conversation, and you duck behind a pillar, out of their sight. you’re just close enough to hear snippets of their conversation, when their voices raise from their hushed whispers. they must not want to be overheard, you realize, straining your ears harder. this was your chance to gather some kind useful information for your father.
you close your eyes and listen, picking up puzzle pieces of she’s sick and time off and you’ve almost completed the puzzle when it hits you - though any conversation they might have had was not meant for you to hear, this one in particular felt like a breach of privacy. not of felix’ but of the boy standing before him. 
his secretary, seungmin, that he had spoken about the previous day. the boy who, as you had just learned, had a sick mother, and was requesting some time away to care for her. as you peek around the pillar, you see felix rest a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to the boy before pulling him in for a gentle hug. 
he’s friends with his staff, and he touches them so casually? this didn’t fit. it fit nothing of the way you were brought up, formality and proprietary trained into you, and it fit nothing of the picture your father had painted of the royals that ruled over this kingdom. it seems that with every observation, instead of answers you were left with more and more questions. 
“what are you doing?” a voice sounds from behind you, too close, and you nearly jump. 
“what?” you breathe out, turning to see jeongin standing behind you, eyes wide.
“you were just standing there with your eyes closed,” he explains. “is everything okay?”
“my lady,” you correct, the words leaving your mouth as if it had a mind of its own. “is everything okay, my lady.”
“oh,” he says, twisting his bottom lip between his teeth. “apologies, my lady. there is no such need for formalities here, i had forgotten.”
“it is alright,” you assure, watching as he relaxes and lets out a breath. 
“just, a word of advice?” he says, continuing before you could tell him that no, you didn’t want nor need his advice. “if you are going to be here for some time, you should try and adapt. not to overstep, my lady, you just might find yourself more comfortable if you relax a bit.”
he walks away with a smile, and you’re left alone to reflect on his words. he did overstep, but it does not mean he didn’t give you something useful. adapt, he had said, and perhaps he had a point. felix seemed to be more open with you when you were agreeable, when you didn’t question his strange impropriety. 
maybe becoming one of them, even through a facade, was the key to unlocking whatever you needed to find.
he arrives at your door as the sun was setting, light knocks accompanied by a call of your name that you almost couldn’t hear. you call out softly for him to enter, a delighted smile taking over your face when you see what he has grasped in his hand, held out in offering.
a beautiful bouquet of flowers, wrapped in creamy tulle. the petals were a vibrant purple, highlighted by sharp yellows and soft whites towards their center. they were violas, your mother’s favorite flower. 
you hadn’t seen one since she had passed. your father had forbade anyone from growing them on his lands.
“how did you know?” you gasp, smiling at him brightly as you take them from him. you move them closer to your face, and if you were alone you might bury your face into them, savoring their powdery sweet smell. “that these were my favorite flower?”
“you told me,” he says, ears turning pink under your attention. “that your mother painted your room in purple flowers. i just guessed, but from your reaction i hope i got it right?”
how had he remembered such a small detail that you had given him, when you knew little to nothing about him?
“oh, felix, they’re perfect. you remembered such a small thing?”
“there are a lot of things i wish to know about you,” he confesses. 
“likewise,” you smile at him. 
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
smoke, creeping through the gap between the floor and the wooden door, rising in curling pillars towards you. snaking around your neck, entering your throat and your nostrils, burning your lungs to ash. you scramble for the doorknob, but the moment your fingers hit it you’re snatching your hand back - it’s icy hot, unable to touch. 
there is no escape.
the windows - covered by royal blue curtains, catch fire from below, and you throw them back. you need air, something to clear out your crumbling lungs, but when you look outside the city is on fire. red-hot flames lick up the side of the palace, trees turned barren and flowers burned to a crisp. 
in the center you can see felix, flames surrounding him but not touching. he’s whispering something, and you cry out that you can’t hear him. speak louder, please, you beg. help me.
“this is your fault,” he speaks, his voice right in your ear, but when you turn towards it, it’s not felix next to you. it’s your father.
his hand slides around your waist, pulling you close to him, embracing you. 
“good work,” he says, proud smile on his face as the both of you watch the city fall to the flames. “i knew you could do it.”
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
since the younger prince had taken you on a tour of the castle, you’ve seen him every day. sometimes he would greet you at breakfast, disappearing afterwards only for him to show up at your door later to ask you on a walk around the grounds. other times he would be waiting for you outside your chambers when you woke up with a basket of fresh pasties baked by minho for you to enjoy together, and he would watch in delight as you savored the flavors. on rarer days, you would only see him in passing while he was between duties, but he would stop to press a kiss to the back of your hand, every time. 
you played along with him, accepting his flirting and responding in turn. it came instinctively, and you often forgot that you were meant to be luring him into a false companionship, not a real one. he was alluring, smart with a fragment of recklessness, soft with sharp edges, a perfect balance of everything. 
as the days passed, he would get bolder. his touches lingered for longer, the searing heat of his hand pressing on your arm, your shoulder, on the small of your back. his kisses moved from your hands to your cheeks and your temples, to the crown of your head, and it left you aching for more. he didn’t hold back his compliments, reflecting not only on how beautiful he found you but also how thought you were clever, intelligent, good-natured. you never thought those things about yourself, but something in the way he said it made you think they were true.
in the times that you weren’t with felix, you spent time with jeongin. the boy was as sweet as he looked, the the more time you spent together, the more his shyness melted away to reveal sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. you found your own walls dropping around him too, his easy companionship making it difficult to remain closed off to him. he reminded you of the home of your childhood, the one that you missed fiercely, and you were grateful to have him by your side. he kept you humble, holding you accountable for the way you acted, even though a spark of fear remained within him any time he spoke his mind in that regard. you managed to hold back your annoyance at his remarks, and soon you found that it simply faded out of reach. you became fast friends, almost too quickly, evidenced by the way he would raise his eyebrows at you when he saw you with felix, like he could see right through you.
you were lucky that your attraction to the prince was all that he could see through. the weight of your impending betrayal was like a shackle on your ankle, following you wherever you went, impossible to truly forget about. while you had yet to learn anything about the royal family that could serve as a benefit to your father, you saw your relationship with felix as a betrayal in it’s own right. if you were better, you would leave him alone - you would leave this kingdom entirely, and refuse to play any part in their downfall. but you couldn’t physically stay away.
you couldn’t stop from filing away small bits of information that might serve to be useful, either. the prince’s brother’s favorite meal, in case the opportunity to poison him came along. his father’s daily schedule, told to you by felix freely when you had asked, your fingertip running down his arm from his shoulder to his wrist. the likely areas where secrets may have been hidden, restricted to you and glossed over by felix when he would walk with you around the castle. you hated it, categorizing this information into handy little parcels that you would deliver to your father.
a welcome distraction came in the form of the very thing you should be avoiding; on a few occasions, felix had christopher and his betrothed, roseanne, accompany the two of you on whatever excursion he had planned for that day. 
a simple picnic in the garden, juicy fruits picked just that morning and fresh baked bread and crumbly cheeses to snack on while the four of you talked. conversation came easy with chris and roseanne, once you broke out of the too familiar anxiety that surrounded you when with new people. felix’s warmth from where he was settled next to you, allowing you to lean into him, helped more than you wanted to tell him. chris was so similar to his brother, sharing his kindness and his humor, though his jokes were cheesier than felix’ dry sarcasm. roseanne was lovely, someone who you could see as a close friend under different circumstances. 
a on a visit to the lower towns, just as lively as it was the first time you went. it was then that you officially met hyunjin and seungmin, the prince’s assistants. the way they bickered with one another, and their royal counterparts, made you laugh so hard that your stomach ached with it. even they were striking, and it left you wondering whether one’s disposition on the inside reflected their beauty on the outside. 
your friendly chatter continued into mealtimes, where the kings would join you, the very few times where you would get to see king stephen at all. he bantered with his children, asking them about their days and their plans for the next ones, acted like a father instead of a king with them. it sent a pang of longing through you - your father had been like that, before. you don’t think he remembered how to be a father, anymore.
as much as you loved the prince’s company, you hated the approving nods you would get from your father whenever he saw you and felix together. the acknowledgement that you craved for just weeks ago felt near futile now - he didn’t see that instead of making the prince fall for you, the opposite was taking place. he didn’t see the genuine connection between the two of you, the way you craved for him, the way nothing else seemed to matter when he was in front of you. he didn’t care about your heart, about how it would likely break beyond compare when he he was finished here. he didn’t care about you. 
the you that was falling for felix. for his compassion, for his gentle nature, for his quick wit and effortless beauty. for the way he treated those around him, for the way he spoke to you like you were more than a pawn in a cruel game of chess. it made you sick to your stomach to think about what was to come, what you hopelessly wished you could avoid. you find yourself wishing, not for the first time, that you and your father were truly here seeking peace. that you could imagine a future here without guilt gnawing at your chest.
the closer you grow to felix, the stronger the gnawing feeling in your stomach becomes. but you can’t stay away from him, even if you tried; the sparking light in his eyes drew you in and you were helpless to his magnetic pull. the way he would beckon you over with his hand, palm facing upright as if waiting to join with your own, left you no choice but to go to him. you knew you were selfish, spending time with him out of your own desires while doing nothing to warn him of what was to come and making no actions to follow through with your father’s wishes. you knew your time here, living in peace, was running short, the last dribbles of sand slipping down an hourglass.
and yet, when he finally pulled you into an empty alcove and held you close so that he could press his lips gently to yours, you let him. you responded in kind, moving together with him like some kind of dance. 
when he invited you into his chambers and into his bed, you didn’t say no. even then, when he gave you all of himself, you took it. 
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
fire, this time contained in a ring of wooden slats, smoke curling up into the night sky. felix, by your side, you tucked into his side while the two of you claim it’s warmth for your own.
“why?” felix says, running a hand up and down your arm. you hum, snuggling further into him when a breeze makes it way to you through the trees surrounding you.
“why what?” you ask, voice syrupy sweet.
“why did you do it?” he turns towards you, the flames still visible in his eyes. he glances over your shoulder pointedly before turning back to the campfire, pulling you into him again. you look behind you, and a firestorm meets your vision. you can barely make out the outline of the beautiful palace through the inferno, but a figure stands out in the center of it. you move closer, the heat threatening to scorch your skin, to see your father strapped to stake. burning. dying.
you turn back towards felix, question dying on your lips when he’s not there. a sick feeling enters your stomach as your gaze returns to the fire, and where your father was is felix in his place.
you let out a horrid scream.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
waking up to the sight of felix, blonde hair illuminated by the morning light like a halo around his head, was something you think you could never get used to. even if you were allowed this under better circumstances, if the two of you had fallen together after meeting at a ball or a diplomatic meeting, his beauty was something that you truly could not comprehend. 
you have half a mind to scold both him and yourself for breaking proprietary, for falling into bed with one another out of wedlock, as parts of two separate kingdoms that have yet to establish ties. you don’t, though; you were as much at fault as he was, and you had enjoyed it too much to ruin it for either of you. you do not acknowledge the guilt that was creeping up inside of you from your dishonesty, or the remainder of fear that lingered from your dream. looking at felix while he slept seemed like a much better way to spend your time.
he is equal parts pretty and cute when he mumbles, smacking his lips together as his eyelids flutter, holding onto the last pieces of sleep he can. when his brown eyes peek through his eyelashes and land on you, you can see the smile in his gaze.
“morning,” his deep voice rumbles, and he pulls you close to him by the waist. you land almost on top of him, his movement making you lose your balance from where you were perched on your elbow watching him, and you both let out breathless laughter at your undignified flailing. you settle against him, his chest pillowing your head while you trace senseless patterns into whatever patches of skin you can find.
you can still feel the phantom touches that he had imprinted on you the night before, as he held you more gently than anyone ever had. you can feel the silky smooth strands of his hair under your fingers, the ghost of his breath panting against your neck. you can hear the sweet sounds you pulled out of him over and over. 
“penny for your thoughts?” he asks, just as he did when he met you in the gardens the very first time. 
“mm,” you sound, not wanting to break the peaceful silence the two of you were basking in. “just thinking about my mother.” 
“oh,” his face drops in sadness. not in pity, but in compassion. in empathy, for of all people he would understand; he lost his mother, too. “can i ask how she passed?”
a refusal is at the tip of your tongue, as it is when anyone asks about your mother, but it fizzles out when you look at him. you found yourself wanting to talk about this with him.
“she was sick,” you start, early memories of your childhood filtering into your head. “since i can remember, she was sick. it took over her body slowly, it took years for her to succumb to being bedridden. she would paint for hours and hours, back then, until she collapsed. but then, it took over her mind too. that was the worst part, her forgetting who my father was, who i was, forgetting who she was. when she passed, it was almost a relief, i could not stand to see her in that state of pain anymore. i was twelve, when it happened.”
“i am sorry,” his voice is deep, thick with sadness. “that sounds like something a child should never have to go through.”
“what about…” you trail off, not wanting to make it sound like the two of you were trading secrets like giggling children. 
“she was murdered by bandits, in the lower towns, just a few years ago,” he answered your unfinished question. “she went further than she was supposed to go from the castle grounds, and she always refused to bring knights with her. my father blames himself, and i blamed him for a long time too. but it was not his fault.”
“i am sorry, too,” you place your hand on his cheek, hoping the weight of your caress would surpass the lack of words you offered him. 
“as strange as it is to say, i-” he cuts off for a second, letting out a strangled laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “i am glad that you understand. it is hard telling these things to people that have not experienced that kind of pain.”
you don’t think it’s strange at all. it settles something within you, the part of you that had felt so alone for years. for all of his charms, it was this display of raw honesty that transformed what you had thought to be superficial attraction into something more, something deeper.
“i feel the same,” you close your eyes, trying to tamper the nausea that arose at those words. you’re going to take his father from him too, your back-stabbing mind informs you. and his brother, you don’t deserve his comfort. 
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
your father calls for you that morning, sending a note to your chambers. you only see it when you finally get out of felix’ bed and make it to your own to freshen up, a smile present on your face that you can’t help. 
every step you take towards your father’s chambers feels more and more like you’re signing your death wish, and the sound of his door opening several moments after you knock on it sounds like cannon-fire in your head.
“you asked for me?” you move closer to the desk where he had sat, and from your position you could see messy piles of paper with words that had been angrily scrawled on them. 
“i have asked you for many things,” he starts, voice dripping with condescension. “but it is good to see that you can manage to follow simple orders.”
his passive aggression makes your blood boil; after weeks of being treated so kindly by your hosts, your patience was wearing thin in the face of your father.
“i am trying to earn their trust fully,” you try to reason. “it is taking longer than expected.”
“and sharing a bed with him is not enough? whoring yourself out to them has not given you the opportunity to find out what you need?” his words were almost enough to make your skin catch fire. how did he possibly know what you and felix had done? “complete what i have asked of you, now. the faster we finish this, the quicker we can leave this horrid place.”
leave this place, and go back to what? an empty castle where you are disrespected, forgotten, ignored? a place with no life, no joy, no laughter? you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you were certain that going back was not a favorable outcome.
“i’m not a servant that you can bark orders to,” you bit out, regretting it almost instantly when he stood up so fast that his chair fell to the floor behind him. 
“watch your mouth,” he growls, stalking towards you, and you take a few steps back from him. “it seems that the only thing you’ve learned from the insolent brats here is how to be weak. how to disrespect your king, the one who has clothed you and fed you since you were born.”
your king, he said. not your father. 
he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back, back, back until you’re up against the door, his grip strong enough that you knew would leave behind a ring of bruises. you wish you could deem this unfamiliar, but the sensation of feeling pain caused by his hands was not uncommon.
“i am growing tired of your excuses. you think they care about you? they would kill you in an instant if they knew what you have been hiding.” he moves closer, until his face is inches from yours and you cannot look anywhere but at him. “if you know what is good for you, you will stop this insolence and do as i say.”
when he removes his grip from you, your knees give out, and you brace yourself against the doorframe to keep from falling. he returns to his desk, not sparing you a glance as you leave his chambers and close the door behind you.
you don’t notice the frightened frame that had been standing outside the door through the tears clouding your vision.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
you’re sitting at the fireplace in your chambers when you hear your door open, jeongin slipping in and closing it quietly behind him. he settles himself next to you, taking in your haggard appearance.
“your father is not here to make peace, is he?” he asks, his voice quiet and free of judgment. like he was confirming what he was already known to be true, not making an accusation.
“no,” you answer simply, too exhausted to try and lie to him. your friend. maybe the first real one you’ve ever had.
“you are helping him.” he says, letting a crumb of distress loose into his voice.
“yes.”
“you have come here under the illest of intentions, gained our trust,” he starts, calm. quiet.
“i know,” you sigh.
“you are going to hurt a lot of people.“
“i know.”
“you are going to do it, even though you do not want to.”
“i know, jeongin!” you snap, feeling guilty when he jumps a little.
“it’s just,” he’s playing with his fingers, a tell of his nerves. “i remember what it was like, at home. before, and then after. when things changed, when people became meaner. more cold, and closed off. that is why we left, and came here. don not make us go through that again.”
“i am sorry,” you whisper, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach at his words. all you can offer him is an empty apology, useless as it is.
“i had hoped that you would be different. that you would stay true to who you were, or who i thought you to be.” he’s looking into the fire, not blinking as if mesmerized. as if he’s trying to dissociate from this moment in a way you wish you could. “when i saw you here, you still had it. that light, from before.”
“i do not want to do it, innie,” you choke out, echoing his words while your eyes burned. “i do not know what to do. i never wanted this, i hate it.”
“i know,” he says. “i can see it. in everything you do, your hesitation, the way you hold yourself back. but you do not understand.”
“understand what?” you’re exhausted, you don’t have it in yourself to be frustrated at him.
“that you have a choice,” he says, as if it was a simple thing. “that you can choose to end this, choose to do what you know is right.”
“i am scared,” you wobble out.
“being scared is good,” he finally breaks away from the fire, but the light in his eyes burns just as bright when he looks at you. “it makes you genuine. that is what makes you different from him. but you do not have to let that stop you.”
“i do not know how,” you whisper, voice barely carrying over to him. 
“figure it out,” he says, just as quiet. “or i will do something, that you will not like. i will not let you harm my friends, no matter who you are.”
he leaves you then, slipping out of the chambers as quietly as he had come in, leaving you to your thoughts and what felt like a never ending stream of silent tears flowing from your eyes.
the next morning, you hand jeongin a note to give to hyunjin for christopher. 
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
the sun had been set for hours when you wrap a scarf around your neck to hind the greenish blue splotches forming around your neck and secure the buckles on your boots. you hadn’t seen felix all day, but you knew that if he asked you to spend the night with him that you wouldn’t be able to follow through with what you were about to to.
your cloak shrouds your face from anyone who might be awake as you quickly make your way through the gardens, to the bench that you often inhabited. christopher is already waiting there for you, a grim look on his face.
“why did you ask me here, my lady?” he asks, clearly confused. 
“please, i need you to listen to me,” your voice is hushed, like you’re scared of anyone hearing despite the hour of day and the concealed location you had chosen.”i am going to tell you things that you will not like, but i need you to listen until the end.” 
“are you alright?” he looks concerned at how desperate you sound, but you shake your head. now isn’t the time for him to worry about you.
you tell him everything. the things your father had said about his family, the plan he had concocted before even stepping foot in this kingdom, the way his demands have been increasing from your lack of progress. the way you had changed as a result of being around the people here, that you didn’t wish to play in your father’s game any longer. you watch as his face morphs from surprise to anger to betrayal and back again, a cycle of emotions that might be comical under any other circumstance. 
there were many ways you could have done this; telling the king for one, but this would open the chance of him ending your life along with your father. trying again to reason with your him, making it clear that you weren’t going to comply with his demands, but you could never see him compromising his mission. there was one single thing that you had thought of that had a chance of succeeding, with your head still attached to your body.
you end your speech with a demand, simple as it is, and that’s when he shows disbelief.
“you want me to kill your father?” he asks, incredulous. 
“i may have loved him once,” you admit, voice thick with emotion. “but not anymore. he is not my father anymore, he is a tyrant. there is not a single soul in the kingdoms that would benefit from him being alive.”
“how do i know i can trust you?” he raises a cool brow, indifference masking whatever he was truly feeling underneath. “what if this is part of your plot?”
“you do not have time to consider my legitimacy!” you cry out, desperate. “i have tried to delay him, to think of some way out of this. he is getting angrier by the day and i fear that he will do something without thinking, something bad, and soon.”
“why not just leave then?” he asks, as if giving you a test. for all it was worth, it was a test that you wanted to pass. “why go through all of this when you could just get out, save yourself?”
“that would not be fair to my people, to leave them with him,” your words come out more passionate than you expected them to. “they deserve better than that. and it would not be fair to you, either. you have shown me more compassion than anyone has since my mother was alive. i will not repay that kindness by leaving like a coward.”
“has he hurt you?” the question catches you off guard, as does the concern filtering through his gaze. you bite your tongue; you want to answer, tell him yes, but that tiny, frightened version of you inside stops the words from coming out. you want to pull down your scarf, show him visible proof of the way your father treats you, but your hands feel like lead. he takes your silence as a confirmation though, nodding and cursing under his breath. 
“i will not kill him,” he says, and you open your mouth to beg, plead for him to listen, but he holds a hand out as he continues. “but i will keep my guard up. i will not take this lightly; my father’s life is in danger, and i will take every precaution while i gain information.”
you sigh through your nose, defeat making your body sag into the bench. this was your last chance; chris may as well have just sealed all of your fates.
“please understand,” he says, weary. “i cannot go to my father with accusations when i have no proof. i believe you, i just need evidence before i can act.”
“please, just,” you say as you stand, not wanting to ask him for another impossible task he might refuse. “do not tell felix? i cannot have him getting caught up in this. i do not want him hurt.”
“you care about him.” he states, as if he is already sure of your answer. 
“more than i thought possible,” you answer, and it is the truth.
“i cannot promise you that i will keep him in the dark. he is my brother,” he frowns. “we do not keep secrets from one another.”
“please,” it’s all you can say before you walk away, pulling your hood back over your face. you can only hope that he will listen to your plea. if not for your sake, but for felix’.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
you should go to your own chambers, should stay away from felix until things were figured out, done and over. but your feet take you to his door instead of your own, and you’re inside his chambers before you can second-guess your stupid decision. you can tell he’s awake by his breathing, irregular and short, and it both pains and excites you that you are allowed to know things about him in that capacity.
“hi,” you keep your voice low, almost a purr as you climb into the bed and throw an arm around his curled up form. his nose scrunches and he wriggles a little bit, almost dislodging you, but you keep your grip strong. you don’t know when you will get this again. 
“you smell like outside,” he complains, his body going lax. “where were you? i missed you.”
“just checking on some things,” you mumble into his skin, your lips finding home on the back of his neck. “i am all yours now.”
“do you not have people to check on things for you?” he asks, opening his eyes finally and turning his head towards you. you’re glad for the lack of light that keeps him from really seeing you. seeing the stress pinching your brows together, and the guilty frown that you can’t get rid of. “i have told you, my staff are there at your disposal. for whatever you need.” 
“why trust others to do things i can do myself?” you quip back, the guilt of not telling him eating at you. you bury your face into his neck, hiding yourself, and the hand he tangles into your hair soothes you a bit. you feel tears welling up against your will and you let a shaky breath out into his honeyed skin.
“are you alright?” he tries to move your head up to look at you, but you refuse, shaking your head.
“i just really care about you, you know that right?” you admit, the last words you spoke to chris echoing in your head. “i didn’t expect to ever care about someone this much.”
“i care about you too,” confusion laces his words, and he runs a hand up and down your back. “are you sure you are alright?”
“i will be.”
so will he. you would make sure of it, somehow.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
felix is out of bed by the time you awaken the next morning, but it isn’t something unusual to wake up to cold sheets next to you. he is a prince, after all, and he can’t spend all hours of his day with you. if anything it’s better that he’s gone today; it will help you keep the distance that you failed to keep the night before.
you’re slow as you dress, the decision you made before you succumbed to sleep weighing heavily on your shoulders; you were going to speak to your father, for a final time. you were not going to give him a choice, you were going to rob him of the basic right that you he so often deprived you of. you were going to make him listen to you, for once.
but when you enter his chambers, he is absent from them. you try and dampen the dread creeping up your throat; surely, he wouldn’t act now? only a couple of days after you last spoke?
you approach his desk, looking for any sort of clue that might lead to his whereabouts, but what you find is worse than you’d imagined. pages upon pages of plans, detailed imagery of how he wanted to kill the king and his sons, how he wanted to enslave the people here, how he would take the resources here and let the land rot and decay, all scribbled down in near nonsensical sentences. 
stupid man, leaving these out for anyone to see. you swipe them off the table, folding them neatly and tucking them into the bodice of your dress where no one would find them, just as your father enters the chambers. your hand flies to your chest, covering up what you had just done, but your father must think it an act of surprise from his lack of acknowledgement.
“what are you doing here?” he asks, eyes narrowed on you. you hold your head up even when you want to cower before him. 
“the crowned prince knows of your betrayal,” you inform, watching as his eyes filled with anger. no fear, as you had expected.
“how,” he growls, making quick steps towards you and taking both of your arms in a harsh grip. his rings dig into your flesh, 
“i told him,” you say, surprised when the words come out clean and leveled and your head stays up high. “i will not help you any longer. the king will know soon, and you will be thrown in prison.”
it was an empty threat; you knew the king was still unaware of what was going on. 
“you would trade me for these people you barely know? the same people who killed your moth- your grandfather?” and it clicks into place. he made a mistake, he misspoke, and it showed the last of his cards that he had kept so carefully hidden from you. it’s clear now: he’s gone mad, searching for some kind of revenge, even if it is on the wrong people. he’s locked himself into some grief-fueled conspiracy, and you realize now that he’s truly lost to you. that he had been lost, for years now. 
“you are not fit to rule over anything,” you snarl. “you are not fit to be a father, you are not fit to do anything more than sit here and place blame on everyone but yourself!”
he doesn’t react for several moments, searching your face for something, before letting out a bark of laughter, eyes wild.
“you ungrateful, insolent, stupid girl,” he shakes you with every word, and your teeth rattle. “you think you can threaten me?” 
he raises a hand and the back of it strikes you across the cheek, metal catching on the delicate bone there. you fall to the ground, the force of it knocking you off balance, and when you raise a shaking hand to your burning skin it comes back flecked with blood. 
“get out of my sight,” he spits at you, stepping around your form as if you were a mere pest before him. “this changes nothing. your threats mean nothing, but heed mine. if you ever step foot in front of me again, i will have you hanged. from now on, you are not my daughter. you are nothing.”
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
the walk to your chambers feels longer than usual despite your hurried steps, and you can’t shake the feeling that something unfortunate was going to happen, soon. what did your father mean when he said that your warning changed nothing? did he not believe you?
you don’t dwell on his clear descent to madness for long; you curse yourself for not seeing the blatant signs of it earlier, his obsession and his misplaced fury, but you know that there are more pressing issues that need your attention. 
perhaps a further look at his aimless scribbling would give you some answers. either way, it was the proof you needed, the evidence chris claimed was necessary to have before approaching king stephen with your claims. you knew needed to act, and soon.  
when you find felix already in your chambers, his presence is enough to qualm the hurricane raging under your skin. it comes back full force, though, when you look at him and he’s angry. 
“when were you going to tell me,” he starts, voice ice cold like you’ve never heard it before. it terrified you. “that you were planning to kill my family?”
“what?” you gasp out, every nerve in your body freezing to stone. any urgency you were feeling regarding your father is wiped out, replaced with cold trepidation. chris told him.
“you came here to kill my father, to kill my brother and his love and to, to use me,” he grits out, voice trembling, and you can’t stand it.
“no, i-” you choke out, the words escaping you. you wanted to tell him everything, wanted to show him what you had found and bring the evidence to his father together, but you can’t get it out. “maybe at first, but no, not anymore-”
“not anymore?” he cries out, incredulous. “how can i trust anything you say to me? you’ve been lying to me since you got here, lying about everything, lying about caring for me-”
“no, felix, i love you,” the confession rips out of you and the timing couldn’t be worse. you wanted to tell him after, when things were not in the uncertain state they were in now. you wanted to give him the confession he deserved, something worthy of the man that he was. he shakes his head at your words, crystal tears forming in his eyes.
“you do not get to say that to me,” he bites out. “i do not even know who you are, you have been lying to me from the beginning, playing with me, you do not get to say that.”
“i did not want to,” you almost wail, the feeling in your knees giving out as you fall to his feet. the emotions that you haven’t been letting yourself feel were pouring out of you. “i did not want to, but he would have killed me, or married me off to some brute to get rid of me and i had no idea what to do.”
you want to shout, look at what he did to me, look at the evidence of what he would do to me, but you can’t. 
“stop. stop talking.” he drags you to your feet by the arm, grip harsh like he would rather do anything than be touching you right now. “get out of my chambers. i want you and your father out of my home, and if you do not leave i swear to the gods i will tell my father to have you hanged.”
you stumble towards his door, turning back to throw one last pleading glance at him, and you regret it as his next words cut you right to the core.
“they warned me about you, did you know that?” he’s no longer speaking out anger, but rather cold indifference. it’s worse, somehow. you wanted to ask who they were, but in the moment it truly didn’t matter. “they told me about your family, how vile you all are. how you would poison us from the inside. but when i laid eyes on you, i did not believe them. i know now, that i should have.”
your body remains frozen long after he leaves, and you don’t realize that your body has moved to your bed until jeongin peeks his head into the door.
“innie,” you choke out from where you’re laying over the covers. he rushes to your side, and his face falls when he sees the tears leaking from your eyes. 
“what happened?” he pushes your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers, so gentle that you can’t help but let out a sob. 
“felix,” you stutter out. “he hates me- he wants me gone. and i don’t blame him, i hate me, but innie, it hurts.”
you let jeongin pull you into his arms, tears leaking into his shirt, and even then your traitorous heart wishes it was felix holding you like this. the last thing you remember before sleep clouds your mind is jeongin whispering i’m sorry into your hair.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
fire, but this time it surrounds you. not burning, but encasing you in warmth, covering your body completely. it spreads, catching onto the surfaces around you.
it’s threatening to combust, taking you with it. you didn’t know what do to. flee? protect, your mind demands. so you run, past door after door, passing by people who beckon you inside. you can’t, you need to leave.
chris, asking you to come inside. minho, calling you in for a meal, fresh and fragrant. jeongin, asking you to join him, telling you he’s worried about you. 
felix, standing still as stone on his balcony. your father behind him, eyes dark as they narrow in on the prince. no.
you rush to them, gliding past felix, your flame sliding off his skin like water. you push your father away, your momentum carrying the both of you forward as the flames catch on his frame.
falling, falling, falling, off the balcony towards an endless pit of darkness. you look up and felix is watching, beautiful face twisted in anguish as he watches the two of you plummet.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
you didn’t leave. despite felix’ warnings, you didn’t make any moves to flee the castle. you needed to see this through, needed to ensure that the people here were safe; the only way you would leave this palace is in the absence of your father’s company. if you were going to die, you would rather it be by stephen’s hands than by his.
you almost don’t leave your chambers, terror paralyzing you as you sit on your bed, waiting nervously for something to happen. whether it be news from christopher about his efforts or a group of knights ready to take you to the dungeons, your body itched for some action. you don’t leave for breakfast, and you don’t let jeongin in when he quietly brings you a meal and leaves it at your door. you pick at it, watching the morning sun rise into the sky and wishing you had a jug of wine to drown yourself in.
by midday, you had made up your mind; you were going to enter the king’s chambers, deliver him the information you had, and sneak away from the palace at night. where you would go, you did not know, but you knew that you were not welcome in either court anymore. you had ostracized yourself from your home and from the group of people here that you hoped to one day call your family. 
you had no one. and it was your own doing.
you push away the thought as you hurry through the familiar halls, stopping at one of the only doors you had yet to enter. the king wasn’t in his chambers, you discovered, when you spent several minutes knocking on the door to no avail. the council chambers were empty as well, and you felt your heart speed up as you raced through the halls, avoiding any person you saw. your boots clicked on the stone as you hastily entered and exited chambers and hallways, searching desperately for the king, hoping he was here somewhere. 
you find them in the banquet hall, a smile on stephen’s face as he signs a long document with a feathered quill. you’re not close enough to see what it is from you’re standing behind a column at the entrance to the hall, hiding your presence from them. your father moves to stand next to the king when he finishes, leaning in close as he takes the quill from him, and he raises his hand behind the king’s back. in his hand, sunlight glints off of a piece of metal in his hand - a knife,
you look around desperately for a knight to alert, but you find none. why are there no knights here? your stomach lodges itself into your throat as you stare at the two kings, frozen as your father readies the knife, poised to strike stephen right in the center of his back -
“no!” you cry, breaking away from the spot you were glued to as you run faster than thought was possible have towards them. your father turns towards your voice in shock, the knife slicing through the king’s side in a clean movement, and the king falls. 
“what are you doing?” your father snarls, the man by his feet forgotten as his attention turns to you. you spare stephen a glance, meeting his wide eyes, and you hope he can see the apology in yours. your father’s forward movement moves your attention to him, and you see him stalking towards you with his knife poised. “i am growing tired of your foolishness, you wretched girl.”
“if you want to kill someone, kill me. not him,” you plead, backing away from him. “he did not kill her, you know that. this, this delusion you are living under, it needs to stop!”
“do not speak of her to me,” you can see his anger rising, redness traveling up his neck. “you are a poor excuse of a woman compared to her. you know nothing. everything i have done, i have done for her, and i will kill you and the rest of them if i need to.”
you’ve heard your father recount his killing of countless adversaries, spoken in cold tones with no regret, but to see him with his weapon raised at you is something you had never imagined in all of your days. it was a truly terrifying sight.
he backs you into the same column you had been hiding behind earlier, a mirror image of the way he had cornered you in his bedchambers days ago. his free hand circles your neck, covering the bruises that he had left behind then, and your hands fly to his wrist.
“this will never free you,” you choke out, tears brimming in your eyes that make your vision blurry. this way, when you look at him, his features are so unfocused that he almost looks like he used to, when he was sane. kind. “do you not understand? this will not bring her back. you will be truly alone.”
“better to be alone than living with you as a reminder of what i have lost,” he says softly, the sharp blade of the knife pressed to your side, stinging as it nicks your skin. 
you close your eyes, resigned to your fate. this was how it was going to end, no matter what. you, suffering from the result of his hands, his jolted mind. you, a mere ghost of your mother, biding your time in this world until he decided that you had none left. living a life that would never truly be your own. 
no.
your eyes fly open and meet his and he hesitates, the knife pulling back the smallest bit. you take the chance, your hand moves from one of his wrists to the other and you twist, taking in a sharp breath when he gasps and lets the knife clatter to the floor. he lets go of your neck and you drop, grabbing the handle of the knife with a shaky hand and slashing upwards, hoping that it would land somewhere. 
he drops to the floor with a howl of pain, clutching at his thigh, and in the next moment you’re on top of him, pinning him to the floor with a knee to his stomach. the knife is still in your hand, unmoving from how strongly your fingers were grasped around the handle. it would be so easy to plunge it into his chest, so simple. you would finally be free. 
you barely register when several knights finally barge into the hall, swords pointed at the two of you. your focus was purely on the man under you, at the madness swimming in his eyes and the ugly curl of his mouth shaped in scowl. 
“you will not do it. you are weak,” he wheezes out, confident even as he struggles to speak from your weight on him.
you raise the knife. 
a moment of tense silence. 
and felix calls out your name. the only voice that could break you away from the trance you were in. his lovely voice, shaped in your name. 
when you meet his eyes you drop the knife, and you’re pushed away from your father when by knights who move to secure him in shackles. you stand on wobbly feet, taking in the hall - felix, hovering by your side, hands raised as if he wanted to touch you but couldn’t. chris, standing by his father’s side, supporting him as he rises from the floor. blood drips down his side, but not an alarming amount. he would be fine. your own father, cursing angrily at the guards who were keeping him restrained, his words passing through you with no recognition.
you’re sure you looked horrible, in this moment. hair a mess, chest still heaving, clothes torn. you didn’t belong here. you drop your father’s papers that you kept hidden in your clothing to the ground, watching them flutter before settling, face up for all to see.
“i will leave at first light,” is the last thing you say before leaving the king, the princes, and your father behind you.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
you didn’t look at your own reflection until the next morning. your face was a horrible painting of blues and blacks, and the bruises on your neck are fading into green, though you’re sure more were forming underneath them. 
you look horrible.
you didn’t come with many things, and most of them were unnecessary for where you were about to go; traveling into the woods didn’t require fancy dresses and jewelry, so as you packed your bag you left them behind. 
the last thing you expected was for felix to push the door to your chambers open, a noisier affair than you were used to from the way the door banged against the wall. 
“you are still here,” he breathes out, panting a bit like he ran here. he eyes the bag you were holding warily.
“i am,” you answer, fear seeping into your veins as he moves closer to you. not of him, never of him, but of the power he held over you. of the way his words could break your heart into more fractures than it already was in. 
“your father is in line for execution, at midday,” he informs, placing a hand on top of yours when he reaches you, his warm skin stinging the ice-cold skin of your own. 
“good,” it’s the only thing you can think to say. the only reaction you can muster from learning that your father was about to die, like you had wished him to.
“chris told me what you asked him to do,” he says, voice low. “i did not stay long enough to hear the whole story, when he told me the other day. i came to you in anger, and i did not listen to you either. i am sorry.”
his voice wobbles in sorrow, and it breaks your heart. 
“no, do not be,” you whisper, flipping your hand around so you could tangle your fingers with his. you wanted to feel him like this, at least one more time. “i should have been honest with you. when i chose to go against him, when i chose you, i should have told you.”
“you were scared,” he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “of him. and of us, i presume. i cannot fault you for that.”
“i was scared, but-” you cut yourself off, trying to find the right words. he waits for you patiently, eyes trained on your features. “since my mother died, my life has not been my own. i have not been allowed to make my own decisions, i don’t know how to…do this. that is no one’s fault but my own.”
“this?” he asks, velvet soft as he seeks for clarification. 
“to be honest about things. to trust people with what’s going on. to…not be scared of people’s reactions,” even this show of candor was sending your heart into a frenzied pace. “i do not know how.”
“then let me teach you,” you can hear the tears in his voice but you don’t look up to meet them. you didn’t think you could handle it. selfish. “please. i do not know what you are planning to do - after, but please do not leave.”
“felix, i have never felt more free than i have here, in this kingdom, with your people. with your family,” you squeeze your fingers around his hand, the only thing you could bring yourself to do. “with you. you have already taught me so much. how do i continue to take and take from you like this?” 
“you do not owe me anything,” he vows, bowing his head a bit. “anything i give to you, i give gladly. i act without thinking and i make rash decisions, too. do not think that i am not learning from you in turn. if it were not for jeongin finding me and explaining things to me yesterday, i would have done something horrid. i could have lost you, do you understand? you and i, we are not so different.”
jeongin. once this was all over, you were going to award that boy a house. or a village. whatever he wanted.
“did he do this to you?” he says when you don’t answer, raising one hand to the bruising around your neck and another to your cheek, feather-light fingertips tracing along the lines. “did he hurt you?”
“yes,” you breathe out, admitting for the first time to someone other than yourself what kind of man your father truly is. letting yourself accept that maybe, it was not your fault. that maybe, you deserved something better. 
you stayed.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
chris meets the two of you outside your chambers hours later, looking more exhausted than you’ve seen him before. he takes in your linked hands with a smile.
“felix told you?” he asks, gentle. you nod, leaning into felix. “i am sorry, that i did not do more. that it came to that.”
“do not apologize,” you say, resolute. “if anyone should be sorry, it is me. for putting you all through this.”
“if anyone needs to apologize, it is your father,” felix swears, his grip on your hand tightening. “if he was not already on his way, i would kill him myself for hurting you.”
you squeeze his hand back, hoping the gesture would bring him some comfort. violence was not a color that you think shaded felix often, but you couldn’t deny that his protectiveness was attractive.
it is chris’ duty to oversee the affair, but you cannot bring yourself to accompany him. the thought of seeing your father again, restrained and awaiting death, was not something that you wished to experience. 
felix stays with you, guiding you through the halls and into his bed, holding you tight the entire time. his presence by your side is overrides the myriad of negative emotions inside of you and for once, your mind is quiet, failing to remind you that you needing felix in this moment was self-serving. it’s as if the thoughts were dying along with your last-living relative.
you wished that you felt happy, relieved to be released from him. or even sorrow, full of grief for your lost father. but you felt nothing.
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
chris enters felix’ chambers at dusk, waking you and felix from the sleep that neither of you intended to fall into. 
“my father wishes to see you,” he addresses to you, waiting with leveled patience as the two of you slowly rise from the bed.
“is he angry?” your voice comes out as a whisper, betraying your anxiety.
“yes, but not at you,” he assures, settling a hand on your shoulder, his touch light. “do not worry.”
but you did worry, all throughout the walk to the king’s advisory chambers to when you enter the door, startling him out of whatever hushed conversation he was engaged in with his staff. when he looks at you he is angry, and you’re glad in that moment for christopher’s warning. you moved with more confidence than you truly had, chris and felix’ presence at your sides helping more than you cared to admit. 
“you wanted to see me, sire?” you ask, your hands wringing together. felix takes one of them into his own, if only to stop your movements.
“i wanted to discuss things with you,” stephen waves off his advisors, waiting for them to leave the chambers before continuing. “regarding your father.”
“my father is dead,” you state plainly, moving forward until you were in front of the king. “i swear fealty to you, my lord.”
you slowly knelt at his feet, gasping in surprise when felix knelt by your side. 
“whatever i can do to prove my loyalty, i will do it,” you assured, keeping your head down. normally, you would internally bristle at the thought of kneeling before a king like this, in an act of submission, but this time it was different. this time, it was your choice. 
“you have proven your loyalty by going against your own kin, my child,” his voice was thick with emotion. “please, stand.”
you don’t, until felix does and pulls you along with him. you’re confused at his immediate acceptance of you, the daughter of a man who wished him such ill-will. you look at him and you’re sure he can see the puzzlement on your face.
“i did not ask for you here to make you prove yourself,” he explains, gesturing at the papers strewn about the table. your father’s notes. “i simply wished to thank you, for preventing such heinous acts from occurring. these notes…” he pauses, as if gathering his thoughts. “are unsettling. more were found in his chambers, detailing increasingly vicious flights of fancy.”
you would learn later that in your father’s notes were his plans for you, for once his own were executed. perhaps stephen felt pity for you as a result of what he saw. when you meet eyes with the king, any trace of anger is gone, replaced with a deep kind of sadness.
“thank you, for keeping my family safe at the sake of your own welfare. anything you wish for, i will grant it.” 
your mind screams at you that you don’t deserve it, that you had put them in more harm than anything, that he doesn’t owe you any kindness. 
“i wish for nothing that i do not already have,” you glance at felix, shooting him a small smile when you notice the pride gleaming on his face. 
───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───
it takes less of jumping through diplomatic hoops than you would have expected to sign your kingdom over to stephen. the lands were adjacent to one another, so rearranging property lines was as simple as removing a single line from a parchment map. you learned that it was more common than you had originally thought to combine kingdoms, though usually it resulted from acts of war. you were queen for all of two days before officially resigning.
your father, for all his boasting, did not carry many alliances with other nations, and the ones he did have stephen was glad to cut off. your father’s knights did little more than grumble about having to change their colors, and the ones that refused to were promptly dismissed from service.
the castle that was once your home was a different case; you never wished to go back there, other than to gather the things that still held your mother’s touch. that place hasn’t been a home to you in a while, but you decided that it could be a home to someone. 
it would take some time, but you had plans to turn the palace into an orphanage. a place where everyone and anyone could come and seek shelter, food and water, and company. it was the least you could do for your people, who had suffered under your blind eye for over a decade while you sat in your chambers, ignorant to all that was going on outside the palace walls.
the biggest relief was the weight of your kingdom off of your shoulders. maybe it was selfish to think that way, but you had never asked for that life. you knew your people were in better hands with stephen than they ever would have been with your bloodline, and you could think of no better successors than chris and roseanne. 
you had your ladies in waiting brought from your old palace, but they did little more than help you dress. jeongin had become your formal assistant, but you considered him a friend and a confidant more than anything. you had offered him and his family whatever he wanted, now that the riches your father held were in your name, but he had refused. he simply asked for a new house in the lower village for his parents and siblings, but stated that he wished to remain in the castle. 
you and felix decided to hold off on announcing a formal betrothal, deeming it wiser to let the kingdom that had nearly doubled in size settle first. you had not been together long, after all, and most of your time together was spent with you under a guise. you took the time to relearn each other, to memorize every miniscule detail of the other’s personality, your habits and your mannerisms and your preferences. despite your earlier reservations, propriety mattered little with the two of you; you spent even more time together than you did before, and you had all but moved into his chambers, only using yours when you wanted someplace quiet to think. 
you don’t remember a time when you were happier than you were now. for the first time in your life, you looked toward the future with brightness.  
2K notes · View notes
garrison-girl-08 · 2 months
Text
Love, Honour, Disobey
Pairing- Thomas Shelby and Reader
Part 3- (More Here)
Tumblr media
You spent the day hiding in your room. Polly was right, you couldn’t have the children seeing you like this. How would you explain it? All afternoon, you had heard your youngest Sadie asking for her Mama. She had only just turned one, and was very attached to you.
Isabella was a Daddy’s girl, well she usually was. Apart from last night, when he had scared her. And your eldest Thomas, he was a free spirit. Quite happy, playing outside, climbing trees. Helping with the horses. No matter how cold it was.
You would have to leave the room at some point…but what could you say to them?
“Wake up!” Tommy heard the stern voice of his Aunt. As she kicked his leg, “Now!” When he groaned, she grabbed hold of his collar, pulling him into an upright position. Picking up the glass of water on his desk, she threw it over him.
Gasping for air, Tommy sat up, hands shaking. "What the fuck, Pol?" he snapped, finally opening his eyes. Only his Aunt, would have the balls to do that to him. Grabbing his collar again, she used all of her strength to throw him onto the floor.
“I have never …. Ever…. Been so ashamed of you! Thomas Michael Shelby!” She snarled through gritted teeth.
Frowning, he shook his head trying to understand what was going on. Wiping the water away from his eyes, his vision blurry, head pounding like a drum.
“That girl deserves better than you. If she ups and leaves over this, it’s your fault. And your fault alone!” Turning on her heel, she strutted out of the office. Slamming the front door.
“Mr Shelby?” He heard, seeing Frances hovering nervously. How many times, had the poor maid seen him like this? He had lost count.
“Come,” he answered, pulling himself back into his chair. So confused, how long had he been asleep?
“Miss Sadie is asking for her Mummy. What shall I do Mr Shelby? Only Mrs Grey said… keep her away,” she confessed, not wanting to get involved in your domestic. "To keep the children away,"
“Away?” He repeated, now standing up. Shit... Tommy... get it together. “Just watch the kids, ey. I will go and see Y/n,”
Dragging himself up the large staircase, Tommy had little recollection of the night before. He remembered arguing with you, Mosley! That was it, you had been to see Mosley. Why the fuck had you done that?
Polly was angry with him over something. So, he had obviously pissed you off. She always took your side anyway. It was nothing new.
About to open the door of your shared room, he glanced at his hands. Noticing how much they were shaking. Shit, he needed to ease of the opium. Entering the room, he could see you sitting at your dressing table. Still dressed in your nightclothes, despite the time of day.
Sensing his presence, you stiffened. "Go away, Tommy. I don't want to hear it,"
He noticed the shake in your voice. Dabbing your eyes, you kept your head bowed. Not wanting to look at him. "Please, I can't do this now,"
"Sadie is asking for you," he breathed out, bending down next to you. His body was aching, clothes soaking from where Polly had thrown water onto him.
"What do you want me to do?" you snapped, finally turning to look at him.
Looking at your face, Tommy's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe, what the fuck? Your face was swollen, and badly bruised. Marks on your neck, eyes red from crying.
“Y/n... what's... it.... er..." stumbling back, he landed on his backside. Trying to grip onto something. "What? How?"
Keep the children away, rang through his head.
"Did he do that? Mosley? Ey?" his adrenaline was pumping. How had he allowed this to happen? "I wanted you away from him, I will kill him over this,"
Quickly standing, you held onto the dresser for support. Head spinning. "You did it Tommy!!!" You screamed, "It was you!"
Jumping up, he quickly moved towards you. Trying to reach for you, trying to take your hand. No…. He couldn’t have done that…. Not to his own wife, his beautiful wife. He loved you.
“Get away from me!” You screamed, at the top of your voice, physically shaking. Terrified, scared of your own husband. Scared to be alone with him.
“Y/n…” he paused, holding his hands up. “I … I .. would never… I,” Sinking to the floor, he tried to rack his brains to remember.
What the hell had happened?
"You would never!" you vented back, "You don't know what you are like, Tommy. I let things slide, that shit you take."
Holding back a sob, you looked at him with hatred. "You turn into someone else, how many times have you crawled into bed with me? Woke me up, like you were fucking someone else. You can't even fucking remember,"
Blinking, he frowned up at you, running his hands through his wet hair.
"Y/n... I... I'm sorry, did I.... did I really? Do that?"
Sinking onto the bed, you felt like you could sleep for a week. "You were so angry with me, I was so scared Tommy. I shouldn't be scared of my own husband, I can't have you here. Near me, near the children,"
"The ... the children, Y/n, I would never, I, I didn't," his mind was trying to catch up, to the words that you were saying. Feeling physically sick at his own actions.
"You are an addict Tommy!" you warned him, taking a step closer.
“You terrified Bella last night, are you going to push her over too?" You couldn't stop now you had started, he needed to hear this. "Or if Sadie cries, are you going to grab hold of her? And shake her? Shake her like a rag doll?”
You pointed at your arms, the deep fingerprints now visible to him.
"No..." he whispered, "No.. no... no..." holding his head in his hands, he mumbled.
Talking, but not making any sense. Breaking down in tears, shoulders shaking from his sobs. Rocking back and forward, on his knees.
“No ….no…” he kept whispering, hands moving to his hair as he began to pull.
“I can’t….I can’t breathe…” he choked out, pulling at his collar. “I can’t breathe,”
Watching in horror, your husband falling to his side. Clutching at his chest. Struggling to catch his breath. This man, this strong family man, your husband, the father of your children.
Now reduced to this…
“He… help,” he begged, as you couldn’t move.
Trying to keep your head low, you walked along the corridor of the hospital. Heading back, towards your husband's room. Blinders tipping their hats to you, as they stood on guard. Two days, Tommy had been in here. Thinking he was having a heart attack, you had panicked and called an ambulance.
A panic attack, it had turned out to be.
But, he was ill, you knew that much. He needed help, mentally as well as physically. He need rehab, to stop taking the drugs, stop the drinking. Sort his head out.
His family needed him, you need him.
You couldn't help but feel guilty. It was your visit to Mosely, that had started this. That was no excuse for Tommy's behaviour, you knew that. You just thought you could handle it. Prove something to Tommy, maybe?
That you were not just a wife, and a mother, that you were still your own person.
Flashback
Walking ahead, he gestured for you to follow. "And how shall that happen, Mrs Shelby?" Mr Mosley asked, a smirk on his face. Oh this man was sued to women bowing down to him. No doubt, falling to their knees for him. Not having a choice.
But you did...
You were not going to give yourself, for the sake of business. You were a married woman, you loved your husband. Nothing, and no one was going to come between you. Especially this creep.
"As I have stated Mr Mosely, I am a married woman. I am aware of what you are insinuating. And the answer is no." you warned, edging closer.
Mosely visibly gasped, shocked from being turned down.
"As you wish, Mrs Shelby. Leave the contract with me, I shall have to look it over again. I bid you goodnight," As you handed him the contract, he kissed your hand, before walking away.
Climbing into your waiting car, you let out a long breath of relief. Vowing, never to put yourself in danger again. You had your children to think of.
Note-
Is that how we thought it would go with Mosely?
Should she forgive Tommy?
Tags-@kaybeeboop @cloudofdisney @romanogersendgame @loveableasshole @goldensunflowe-r @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @lauren-raines-x @kathrinemelissa @datewithgianni@geminiwolves @lyarr24 @ysmmsy@mysticaldeanvoidhorse @dolllol2405 @fictionaldemon @padfootdaredmetoo @cheekybluefox @stevie75 @breely1284 @american-sataness @blyanyan @peaky-cillian @cevans-winchester @shadow-hunters-lover @look-at-the-soul@livelifewondering @duckybird101 @watercolorskyy @lespendy @raychhh @dressedinpoetrysblog @cillmequick @everyonesawhore @castellandiangelo @midnightmagpiemama @thenattitude @forgottenpeakywriter @elenavampire21 @cljordan-imperium @peakyscillian @pono-pura-vida @already-broken144 @muhahaha303 @kmc1989 @lilorphanann @amberpanda99 @bernelflo @trixie23 @cilloak @globetrotter28@in0320 @laylasbunbunny @lau219 @surfin-the-sun @fiokw @stilestotherescue @girlwith-thepearlearring @crispynutella @blondie-22 @brummiereader @mrsnshelby88@blvebanisters @snowtargaryen @shelbybabysblog @cyphah @bruher @neonpurplestars89-blog @abaker74   @myaa21212121 @brebae501
512 notes · View notes
bitchlessdino · 1 year
Text
Do it already (m)
Tumblr media
Pairing: best friend's brother!Chan x afab!reader
Genre: smut, slice of life
Word count: 6.5k
tags: actor!chan, childhood friends!chan, possessive!chan, yearning!reader, plot rich, reader with tits, reader masturbation, kitchen counter sex, reference to drugs, oral (giving and receiving), mouth fucking, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, degradation (slut, whore), praise kink, unprotected sex. tender love and care
Summary: You and the Lee siblings were like three peas in a pod. That didn't last long when Chan went for his dream and left you and sister to yourselves. That was no problem since she was the best friend you could ever have. Now he's back, hot, fit, oozing sex appeal and you're wondering what it'll take for him to rail you like a train on tracks.
author note: this banner took 3 minutes to make. It's take a lot shorter if i didn't have so many spelling errors. point is this banner is the coolest bc i found a template already premade. it's been a while since i wrote a lengthy chan thing that wasn't just smut so, here you go. enjoy! and thank you to everyone that voted on the poll to make this happen. also, every thought the reader had been once my own, I overindulged once again
tag list: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han
You remember Chan eating dirt at the ripe age of 5. You were the cause of it. You thought it was funny to make a dirt and worms pie with real dirt and worms. You were right. He’s hated you since.
His sister, Chanmi, agreed with you. She thought you were really funny. Chan eventually got over the dirt pie, and found it incomplete without your presence. You became best friends after that and basically followed them everywhere. You always wanted siblings and since mom couldn’t afford to push out anymore, you settled on being fake siblings with the Lees.
Then Chan decided to pursue his dreams when he was 14. That was okay. You had more in common with Chanmi, anyway. His disappearance made you and Chanmi closer. She relied on you and you doted on her. It was a mutual symbiotic relationship. You couldn’t see a life without each other.
You ended up in the same college as well, living across the hall from each other in the same dormitory. Now you really couldn’t see a life without her. 
When it was time to graduate, you really worried you’d drift apart by now. When she reassured you wouldn’t, you trusted her word, as she trusted yours when you made that same commitment. It was time to commemorate it, so in came your joint graduation party. Your families and mutual friends had joined together and celebrated the end of an era. You would now go off into a world that you feared more than it would fear you. But you had Chanmi. You couldn’t imagine a better person to do it with.
Chan had hardly crossed your mind in all these years until the very moment he walked through your front door. You could hardly recognize him in the Armani blazer and dress shoes, but it was him. He had the same sharp yet attentive brown eyes since he was a teenager. He was simply all grown up now, as have you. Chan had come to visit a few times in the time he’s been gone but you only ever saw him a brief passing, caught up in your own life. 
Once our eyes have landed on him, it’s as if time has stopped. The acting school must’ve done this because his image seemed to be crafted in utter perfection. He was slightly taller than you remember, chiseled than you remember, and the least of all, more handsome than you remembered. You emphasize that you never saw Lee Chan attractive, not once, but here you were, devouring every detail of him.
He saunters over with flowers in his arms–noticeably two bouquets, one full of daisies and another with sunflowers–and stands before you and your best friend with a smile on his face. He congratulates Chanmi, handing her the bouquet of sunflowers and a hug, and within earshot saying how he knew she could do it.
Then came you. The expression on his face is something you’ve never seen him make. It bordered the line of surprised, startled, perhaps aroused, and you don’t know what to make of it. You clenched your legs anxiously before you pushed yourself up from your seat, seeing how much taller he really gotten since. It was funny since you had gotten used to being the taller one in your youth but it seems some of that has changed, along with everything about him.
“Congratulations, Y/n.” He hands you your daisies, unable to tear his gaze from you, fingers brushing against yours as he places them in your hands and electricity flows through you both.
“No hug,” you ask, trying it. His grin gets wider, arms now coming around you, and you feel his larger than life biceps close in a tight embrace. The scent that entered your personal circle now engulfed your senses, blackberries and cream. He smelled sweet, comforting, and if you help it, down right edible. 
You sigh, hugging closer, closing your eyes to fully appreciate his warmth and he spoke to a lethally soft tenor, “You’re looking good, Dirt cake. Welcome to adulthood.”
He felt strong and safe, yet left you breathless when he smoothed his hand over your back. You wonder how there can be so much tension in a seemingly platonic gesture. He makes you feel like the only other person to exist, but it ends when he pulls away, and his ghost lingers over your form.
The attention is all on him when his parents see Chan arrive, proud to have gotten the family back together again. Your parents greet him the same, having once known him to be a placeholder of a son they would’ve loved to have. Everyone is joyous.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him, the rest of the party or the rest of the night that matter, thinking only what he’d like underneath those clothes. As children, you’ve had your fair share of beach days, pool parties, joint family vacations to rented lake houses, but that was a time when Lee Chan wouldn’t even be considered in your dating pool. You were both children, almost like family at some point, and thinking of him in any manner besides that was icky. So, so icky.
But you’d be lying if you didn’t watch him tear off that blazer and put it away in a closet. His muscles ripple through his expensive dress shirt, sleeves pulled up to cut off at the elbows, revealing blue veins so thick and pulsing you imagine how they’d feel against your tongue at the sight of them. You lie in bed at the thought of them, overwhelmed at the pool it causes between your legs and goes to reclaim your arousal. Your digits languidly follow the trail of their escape and bite on your other pillow to muffle your ache.
Your head throws back into the duvet as you plunge two eager digits in your sopping core. The perfect arch you make goes unnoticed in your lonesome. You pleasure yourself in solitude, when in your mind one other person takes your fingers’ place.
“Cum all over me, sweet angel. I can feel you close.”
He had never uttered those words in his life, at least not you, but can hear them almost as clear as day.
Your hips slew in a circular type motion. Your moans get more curt as you bite hard into the cotton felt. Legs tense up, lifting off the bed, and hushed whimpers are all you communicate as you’re overcome with your release, taking the time for your legs to settle down. Your pulse would take a longer time to process your journey. Chan was still on your mind after all. Along with all the guilt built up from the considered betrayal you’ve made to his sister, your best friend, you were wondering if you could ever face her, or Chan, again.
“Oh my god, when was the last time we were out together like this?”
Chanmi’s enthusiasm combated your desire to hide away forever from guilt. You pick apart your burger, making sure there were no pickles as you’ve requested, and humming content as your message was received. “3-4 years. If you include that lunch, Chan took off in 10 minutes.”
The culprit chuckled, depositing a fry in his mouth. “I'm in high demand. You should be proud to be sitting so close to me.”
Chanmi snickers, shoving a nugget in his face, “Here, shove this in your pie hole.”
He happily accepts the excuse to shut up and enjoys it like it’s the most delicious thing on earth. “Yummy.”
You all laugh at his lighthearted nature and talk as if no time has passed. It’s familiar, warm, but jarring, because seeing you all united together proved that time came with age, and apparently for Chan, a new appreciation for a fully equipped gym.
He’s the same personality-wise, but you can’t help but focus on the physical. Looking at him while talking felt like he had been body swapped with some foreign adonis. You don’t forget the more stylish hair cut he sports, tapering slightly short at his sides and longer up top. He was becoming everything he meant to be.
“How’s shooting,” you curiously ask, “I’m sure it’s really exciting to be working on a bigger project like this.”
Chan took off the middle of your childhood to enroll in a boarding performing arts school. He wanted to pursue acting professionally one day, and he believed the networking and immersion of the curriculum would allow him to hone that skill. He made a pretty penny doing TV commercials in his attendance there, but his senior year he finally got cast in a small film. His mini break.
He played a minor role but got all the perks of a lead, besides the fame. He pushed himself hard to get recognized in his field of work. Corpses on criminal mind-esque shows, taking on five-minute extra characters, becoming a regular on a cable show with a beloved modest fandom, and finally now he’s done it. He was going to be a lead on an online streaming series that would be broadcasted internationally. Although, he hadn’t gotten the male love interest he strived for. He had claimed the role of the second love interest instead, and everyone always loved the second lead more than the first, he rationalized.
“It’s so exciting. Everyone is so talented and cool. I almost can't believe it.” He expresses with an excited glint in his eyes.
“It’s a big deal,” You cover his hand with yours, squeezing it affectionately. “You deserved this.”
You exchange proud smiles at each other. You wish you could feel the warmth from his lips as he lets out a quiet “thank you” as he places his over hand on top of yours. This feels too tender to be real, and you wonder how you could ever have noticed those creased smile eyes in the past.
The moment is interrupted when a text tone goes off and Chanmi claims it. “Oh, gotta go. I have a date.”
Chan rolled his eyes as his giddy sister hops out of her chair, releasing himself from your hands, and they suddenly drop cold. “Can't believe you planned a date in one of the few days I’m in town.” 
Chanmi lands a quick peck on your cheeks and sticks her tongue at brother in defiance, scurrying away in a quick farewell and she’s gone behind those double doors of the restaurant. This leaves you three: you, Chan, and the impending arousal that slicks your walls for being alone with him any longer than a second.
“It’s crazy isn’t it,” Chan breaks your silence, “you guys graduating, me being in a lead. It’s so wild how far we’ve come.”
You nod, “It really is. Everything’s different now.”
“Well, besides school, what else has happened? Now’s the time to catch up.”
You hummed, “where do I start?”
Let’s see where you could start.
The moment you walk right through that front door, I cannot stop thinking about your hands on my body how you would press me up against a wall and fuck me senseless, stupid, or just straight up use me until I can’t even remember my own name. It’s been only a few days since I last saw you, but every day since then I thought about you. I touch myself to the thought you. I wondered how you would say my name. I wonder if you would say my name at all. I even wondered what you would want me to call you, if that was even necessary. For you, I would lay my body with only the purpose of fulfilling every one of your desires. I’d have myself milk you until the end of our days.
You kept that to yourself. You were ashamed those words even ran through your mind in the brief moment it did, and you held your breath. “Well, since college is over, I can focus on the internship I got into. It’s a lot less intense than I’m expecting, just waiting for that adrenaline to pick up when it does.”
“You’re so grown up. I can believe I missed that.” There’s so much tenderness and fondness in his eyes.
I could say the exact same about you.
“So, Chanmi’s dating. You seeing anyone lately?”
If I was, they’d be gone the second I saw you.
“No, not really,” you respond, averting your gaze to your drink, “college guys kind of suck if I’m being honest.”
Humor is evident as Chan stifles a laugh, wiping away the reminder of his sandwich away from his face. “That I’ve heard of. Good. You deserve more than a guy just trying to get his dick wet.”
You halt, pleasure churning in your stomach at his vulgar language, hunching over the diner table in anguish. The pool of arousal spreads further. “That’s one way to put it. And you? Anyone caught your eye?”
Please say no. For the love of god and Buddha, say no.
“No luck on my end, either.”
Fuck yes.
“Oh, well, that sucks.”
“I have had a lot of work on my hands, so I don’t really fall into the practice of dating. I guess I’m just taking things as they come”
You nod, completely aligned with him. You didn’t see the point in dating apps if its purpose was only to put you out there in the world. You did plenty of that on your own. 
“And sex?” What are you doing?
He snorts, his pearly whites on display. “What about sex?”
Stop before you’re in too deep. “Are you having any?” For Christ's sake.
He bites his lip, amused, taking the last sip from his sprite before setting it aside. “At the moment, no. Why? Are you offering?”
YES.
“No,” you scratch your head, blinking in feign innocence, “just gathering intel to sell to paparazzi before you become a superstar and leave us.”
He crumbles up a napkin, a scrunched up smile on his face, before launching it at you, “You jerk. And no, I’m not fucking anyone.”
God, the way he cusses feels like drugs in my veins.
“Are you asking because you are,” he asks, “are you having sex with someone?”
There’s a sense of childish curiosity in his voice, like peers gossiping about the latest tea, but beneath it is something else. He circles his drink from his hands, eyes locked in place, mouth dropped in a way that screams ‘I dare you to answer’ and how his jaw tenses up after immediately asking, sets a fire into your inner thighs.
You let out a suffocated breath, pinching the skin of your thigh to snap you back into reality before the heat in his gaze singed your mouth shut. “Nope.”
He hums, relief grazing his harsh brows. “Not hung up on anyone?”
“No. Need an ex to be hung up with someone,” you quickly answer, before the bitter taste of regret stings your tongue.
“Interesting.”
You narrow at him. “What's so interesting about it?”
You want me. Just say it so I can lunge across this table to get to you.
“I haven’t seen you in years and you’re beautiful, smart, single. It doesn’t sound right.” He answers with a shrug.
Call me beautiful one more time. I will suck your dick right now under this table. I don’t care about being caught.
“There’s not really a reason, it’s just how it is. And maybe I’m not looking. Considered that?”
The only person I’m looking at is right in front of me—God, I can smell your cologne from here. Fuck. I want to devour you.
“Maybe, but me personally, I’d sweep you up before any guy could get the chance.” He chuckles.
Then do it. Stop teasing me.
“Chanmi would probably kill me tho. Probably say it’d ruin our dynamic.”
Oh shit. Here you were, lost in a head fogged up with lust and you hadn’t considered your best friends seeing you get shacked up with her brother. You were betraying her every second you though about her brother in a lewd sense. Although, she made no indication she’d be bothered by such a thing, but who wouldn’t? You weren’t going to let yourself off on a technicality.
“Don’t think we have much to worry about, though. I think we’ll be just fine.”
His words were like an anchor dropped in your gut. You didn’t know what was worse. Messing around with your best friend’s brother or the possibility of him rejecting the idea before it even started. You lose feelings in your legs, exhaling through your nose, and cry a little on the inside. You force an agreeing smile on your face. “Yeah. Chanmi doesn’t have to worry about anything.”
The meal comes to a close and you tell Chan you should get going home and he insists on driving. You were insane if you were going to spend another second in his presence, knowing fully well how he made you feel. He’s basically rejected you. It was over. Quit trying.
“Let me know if the AC is too cold. I can turn it down.”
You were that insane. 
“All good.”
You sit in silence. The radio envelopes the air and you interlock your hands in discomfort, while Chan focuses on the road. It's not a long drive from your place, but it sure felt like it was. But it gave you all the time to reflect. You needed some of that. Maybe you could get your common sense back.
Of course, Lee Chan wasn’t going to fall for you. Not like this. Maybe if you and his sister weren't attached at the hip, it’s possible. But then again, he would be living a life of fame, the spotlight, other people way hotter and more suitable for him. Face facts.
“So, since you haven’t dated anyone, I’m assuming you’re a virgin.”
Oh. He was going to keep going.
“Um, not quite,” you chuckle nervously.
He raises a brow. “So, you lied to me.”
You shake your head, “Of course not. I’m not having sex right now with anyone or a single person consistently, if that’s what you were saying, but I’ve had sex.”
“Did you?”
Something in his tone makes you want to turn your head to his side. You don’t regret your decision seeing the whites of his knuckles as he grips the wheel. His voice may have sounded friendly, but he held himself taut, visibly restraining himself.
Oh, Chan.
“Yeah. I didn't consider them exes, just flings,” you thought to add.
“Flings.” He repeats. 
You grin to yourself. “Yeah. I think a few times in high school and then a few more in college.”
“My, my. Aren’t you all grown up now?” You can almost hear him gritting his teeth, and you relished in it.
“Well, this is me.” You point at the building Chan forces himself to park at. He tightens his jaw in view, tapping the leather of the wheel in contemplation. Possibly at the revelation you’ve revealed to him. You lean in where your face comes into view, smiling an innocent smile. “Want to come in, Chan?”
You can see the dilemma in his eyes. There's a war going on his brain and either way, he was losing. Inevitably, he helps you unbuckle his seat before deciding to do the same thing to him. He plays your game with a humorless smile. “Why not?”
When you’re finally alone in the comfort of your home, it took everything in you to not jump him right then and there. His eyes scan over your living area, taking in the kick knacks, the tchotchkes you bought over time. It was as if he was rediscovering you, all of you, and for some reason, that made you more nervous than anything else. But that meant he was curious about you. He wanted to know more past what he saw as a child. He wanted to see you.
He snorts, crossing his arms, eyes finally landing on you. “I like your apartment. Am I the only guy you brought here you haven’t fucked?”
That could change.
You shrug, gallantly walking further and further away from him. “I don’t usually bring people over here. If I’m hooking up, it’s usually at their place.”
You let him watch. His eyes trained on your walk, a resisted urge tempted in every step you take. “You know that’s incredibly dangerous, right?”
“Anymore dangerous than letting them know where I live?” you retort.
He saunters over to you, side grinning in challenge. “Why are you trusting towards me?”
“Because,” you mimic his arms, “We have nothing to worry about. You said so.”
He glares down at you, taking one step closer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Whatever do you mean, friend?”
He cocks his head, “You’re really testing your luck aren’t you, Y/n?”
You shrug, an obvious grin on your face, “I’m not testing anything. Exactly what are you implying?”
“Don’t push me, Y/n. You don’t want to find out what happens.”
“That’s funny,” now you’re the one backing him in a corner, pushing him, showing him, knee his shins until his fingers grip back in the arm of a couch, saying words you only ever dared to think, “Maybe don’t be a coward and fuck me already.”
His breath noticeably hitches and drinks in your assertion and feeds you back tenfold, pushing himself off the couch and colliding your lips, and a shock of immense arousal takes over your body. Goosebumps pebble your skin and involuntarily you moan in the lip lock, taking you longer than necessary to realize that Chan has backed you against a wall.
Your hand crawls into his hair, pushing him down to deepen your kiss as his hard member prods at your stomach. Hands run down to catch him, his clothed cock in your hands, feel how the zipper of his pants constricts him from taking up any more space, and you help spring him free.
“All this fat cock all for me? Chan, you shouldn’t have,” you playfully comment.
“It's what you wanted, isn't it?” He thrusts up against you, hiking up your leg to dig into your already pulsing core. “You want me to want you. To fuck you? Is that it?”
“Yes.” You answer definitely. “I want you to want me so bad it hurts. Just as badly as I want you.”
“It’s not some addiction you have? Move on from one fuck thing to the next?” He questions, venom on his tongue. He speaks with doubt, but his body defies him, drawn to you like opposing ends of a magnet, in need of you as much as you were in need of him.
“I don’t say things I don't 100 percent mean, Chan. If I wanted to just fuck you, I’d do it already.” You squeeze around him slightly tighter, wrapping your fingers around strands of his hair harder, hearing that stuttering grunt of his to reveal itself. “There's fucking, and then there’s you, Chan. I  don’t just want to fuck you. I want to worship you.”
You catch a glimpse of his reaction to your startling response before lightly shove him off of you to get on your knees, scraping them against the textured wood. Lowering yourself gave a good view of the shift in his eyes, watching how they go from pure animosity to earth shattering enthrallment. Your hands come up to his hips, fingering from the waistband of his briefs and pulling it down with his pants, just to push it aside. His cock is big, hard, veiny, perfect to push down your throat. 
You wrap your fingers around his girth, fingers trailing over his veins, counting the estimated inches. Disappointment didn’t even cross your mind.
“You have such a pretty, pretty cock,” you gasp, “have you thought about it? My lips wrapped around your cock. I know I have.”
Chan’s bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth. His eyes dilate as your lips purse over the curve of his tip, kissing the slit. His mind then settles on your previous words, wondering what they entail. “Worship? With that kind of offer, I’d hate to refuse. What about you?”
“What about me?” His shaft hugs the curve of your cheek.
“If you’ll worship me, what’ll happen to you?”
Your smile stretches across your face before kissing his length between speeches. “Well, if you let me. I’ll be all yours. Your tits”—kiss—“ass,”—kiss—“your pussy,”—“your mouth. I’ll be all yours.”
Chan can’t help but smile with you. His hand finds a way to thread through your hair, getting a good angle tug, and ripping a flirtatious giggle from your lips. “I get all that? Deal of the century.”
You hum in agreement before you feel him hug the inside of your mouth, fluttering your eyes at his size. Your tongue runs along his skin, taking it calmly, slowly. You make sure you’re breathing from your nose, savoring every second. 
Chan breathes out controlled breaths, boring his lust driven gaze into your presence. His cock is more than pleased in your hot, wet mouth coating him in drool Your sweet, swollen lips were like the cherry on top of sundae. They were gloriously full and glossy getting him off. “Your lips are perfect around me. And this mouth is mine, you say?”
You nod as you bob down, not expecting him to thrust inside you, flinching against the wall. He puts either hand on either side of your head, holding you in place. Your eyes shut tight, feeling him twitching in your throat before pulling out. A ribbon of translucency stretches from your lips to his head.
“My pretty, little mouth.”
There is a darkness in which he stares at you, like releasing of pandora’s box. He was lost in power, greed, filth. Whatever it was, you were ready for more and you didn’t mind what it took. He pets your hair, dragging his fingers from root to tips, saying his scary final words before he fills your cheeks more with his cock. “Cherish that last breath. You’ll need it.”
Your head stays pinned to the wall, cock plunged in your mouth, the view of Chan’s unfailing erection and groin the only sight you’re able to take in this moment of suffocation. He wasn’t slow with it and he didn’t plan to be. Groaning, his hips push in your mouth, the back of your head hitting the wall behind you with every thrust, and the length flossing the pipe of your throat. You become a makeshift version of a glory hole. Your hands steady themselves on his hips until they are forced to pin above your head.
You wretch at his sheer force, but take every inch. Your tears burn your cheeks, feeling the tremble of your limbs. You cough, gag, swallowing him as you’re pushed past your normal limits and finally meet the base of his cock. He rams in you, lips to lap, mouth stretched and sore. Full didn’t even begin to describe how it felt for him to fuck your mouth like this. 
He shows mercy when he feels close, thrusting in all the way and holds in your mouth for an exact five seconds until he lets you go. Your saliva and his pre-cum dribble all over your chin and neck, but a dazed smile on your face despite the mess. A hand to your neck, he pulls you up from the ground, pressing you full bodily back in the wall. 
“Well, aren’t you a pretty fucking whore.” he hisses.
His hand invades the depths of your pants. Your sopping folds are easy to find as they coat his fingers like syrup, sweet and thick. “Pussy’s mine, hmm? Ass too?”
“Yes. yes, take all of me.” You impulsively part your legs, the gateway of your throat closing up as his grip gets tights. All the stars you were seeing shined brighter than the stars in the damn sky.
Chan tugs off your bottoms, throws it aside like garbage and lifts you on top of a kitchen counter. The cool marble stings your ass cheeks but you hardly notice as Chan nose deep in your pussy. His fingers dig deeper, tongue flicking starved at your entrance. “Sweet Jesus, you’re fucking wet. Fucking dripping down my arm.”
“I wasn’t lying to you, Chan.” Your leg hangs off his shoulder, feeling light as his tongue makes himself home in your warmth. “I want you, every part of you.”
They were more than enough words of encouragement as he’s lost in your thighs. The curve of his lips suck on your clit, eliciting a moan and would forever be ingrained to every wrinkle of his brain. His fingers–now down to his knuckles–traveling you at an unforgivable pace. He makes it known that he’d give you what you want, anything and everything in between, but he wouldn’t give you his patience.
His hand comes down at you hard on the center of your core, rubbing between every strike as he licks deep stripes, causing your whines of ache to grow louder. “More, Chan please. Touch my pussy more, like that.”
Your pain receptors could usually take so much pain, but with Chan, you’d sacrifice your nerves just to have him cum covering every inch of your body. 
Swiftly, he reveals his upper body. Taut, firm muscles, packed in every region. Gleaming with sweat, his honey glazed abs flexes from the tension in his stomach. God, it was better than you ever imagined.
You watch as his strong arms pull you closer in his mouth. He latches on you like a leech, draw circles, finger fucking you until you’re drawing out his name in short bursts. Your jaw drops slack, clenching around his tongue, and pressing himself against you until you’re close. Oh, so close.
He pulls off at the worst moment and before you could protest, you taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling him pull off your blouse in the process. Tits in either of his hands, he roughly squeezes them, pinching tight at your stiff peaks enough for you to let out high pitched screeches. “Chan hurts!”
“Good.” He takes one in his mouth, nibbling one in his teeth before pinching the other one just as hard as before. You’re stuck between pain and pleasure, but as liquid escapes past your legs and the victor is clear.
“My tits…taste so sweet…like honey.” he mumbles.
You feel loved, worshiped, wet. You were wrapped around his finger, and if you get to be soe lucky, he’d feel that same way about you. After he’s done swelling your skin, he’s escorting you to what clearly is your room despite the first time of him being there and he dumps you on the bed.
“Ass in front, right now.”
Promptly, you do as he says, getting on all fours on the bed, lifting your ass welcome for him to take.
“Spread wider. I want to see that pretty pussy.”
Your legs naturally part further, the pigment of your sensitive flesh clear on display. Chan takes initiative. Putting himself between your divide, his tongue finding that familiar sweetness he parted with only a few minutes ago. “You taste so fucking good. I forgot all about saying that while in there earlier. You seem to do that to me.”
His hands come over the flesh of your ass, the sting of his hand is momentary before his tongue’s presence takes over, tasting you, inhaling you delicious scent, “Condom?” He manages to breathe out.
You shake your head, perspiration trailing your forehead. “But I’m clean, and on the pill. Like I said, you can do anything with me.”
Chan is blown over with a sense of relief, fishing his erection before lining up at your slit. He takes full strokes inside you, achingly slow, and you quiver at the fullness but whine when you’re immediately empty. He does that repeatedly, giving you the sensation before he rips it from you in mere seconds.
Yo pound your frustrated fists in the mattress. “Chan give me your cock… I want you please..”
“Really, Is it me you want?” He teases, “Or it is my cock fucking so deep in your pussy you feel it in your mouth?”
Vivid images in your head, you shudder at the depth of his now husky voice, “I want that from you. Only you. Please, I want you to cum in me…”
“Shit.” Hearing that made close already. “F-fine. Just shut the fuck up.”
He thrust in you, finding a pace to reside in. His mouth makes an o-shape at the clench of your wall. “Fuck wet pussy,”—slap—“wet, tight. All for me.”
Chan recalling your moans laced with ecstasy. Hearing you, watching the recoil of your ass hitting his lap, it was something he could get used to, but he could try. He forces his knees on the bed, pushing deeper inside you. He finds your hair before pulling, pushing you into to the mattress and muffling your moans until they melt into an oblivion.
“That reminds me,” he thinks to bring up, not minding the fact you were drowning in the duvet, “what is it you like being called?”
You muffle a response but if you were being honest, you could hardly think with his weight pushed back into you.
“Come on. What is it? Pick your poison.” He slows his pace, a hard, deep stroke taken with every term of endearment, “Baby? Sweetheart? Angel?”
You moan, but not enough.
He blinks, thinking it’s going somewhere when a light bulb goes up in his head. “Mmh, let's try this then. Clench harder, slut.”
You moan even louder, immediately following his command. He then pounds harder in you, lacking any clear remorse as his language becomes grunts, calling you ‘slut’, ‘whore,’ ‘fuckhole,’ every name in the book until you buck at his hips.
Shake as hard as an earthquake, saying his name, speaking your orgasm into existence. It’s all you feel as your vision becomes further away from the comprehensive. You become a lifeless body that takes every second as if you never would again, collapsing on the bed. 
Chan, a man with solutions, flips you on your back. A leg of yours comes up on his chest, ankle over his shoulder and he bottoms out inside you, another tidal wave that jumpstart your adrenaline. “I’m not fucking done with you yet. You said you’d be mine and you will be for as long as I want.”
Your leg takes his side as he folds into you, lips messily meeting yours, tongue tasting the inside of your mouth, he takes you even deeper and your way to feel can't be described as anything else but bliss. You caress his face, while his hand reconnected with your neck. You’re trailing down to feel down his torso, the pads of his fingers pushing against the column of your neck tighter. Life leaving your body, you count each ab, cup each peck, palm over each stiff peak, and trace over each muscle. If you could leave earth by this method, you would. Your voice is raspy, but takes no break from praising him. 
“You’re fucking my pussy so good, feel so fucking good in my hands. Don’t. Fucking. Stop.”
“You like that,” kissing you in a curt repetitive action, sweeter than intended, “can you take…my…cum?”
“Yes,” you frantically nod, “cum in me. I want all your cum in me. Breed me please. I want you, only you, to fuck me, empty out in me, and repeat.”
His load is as warm as a home cooked meal, shooting in you, jerking into your body in a well-practiced motion. His body embraces you, closing in on you, while he tucks you in tight. You only remember the smile on his face when he cums. It looks like love in his eyes, warmth, and you are positive that that’s what it is because you're looking at him the same way. It feels like a perfect happy ending.
But nothing is over until Chan says it is over.
That day turned into night before you know it and all you’ve done is be in each other arms and fucking your shared cum back into places they belong. Despite the performance, Chan ended up being a gentleman, asking you where your spare clean towels were and helping you clean up the mess you’ve made. All the time and energy drained you both and with the lack of motivation to cook, you both called food to be delivered.
In an attempt to be presentable, you take the shirt he once wore and display it on yourself, his scent enveloping you like it were his embrace. That meant Chan had to walk around topless, and by George, that was quite the sight. You join him on the couch. His arm slings over your side, tenderly kissing your face as you feel up his body. You couldn’t help but grin like a love stricken puppy, memorizing every dent of every chiseled muscle, appreciating its entirety. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Chan hums, before muffling a thanks and taking your kiss-swollen lips in his. “I think you’re sexy.”
You giggle, reciprocating, already finding yourself straddling his lap, and that erection that’s already gone and inflated himself. This man had it all didn’t he?
Then it dawned on you. Maybe too late, but it did.
You part from him, eyes furrowed in worry.
Concern is written all over his face, and he curls your hair behind his ear, “what’s wrong?”
“What are we going to do about Chanmi?”
His expression soon matches yours as he sighs. His hand comes behind your head, kissing foreheads, and curls up in a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for us.”
“And If she isn’t?”
His hands tighten on the fabric of the shirt. “She’ll just have to.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“And she’s my sister. And I’m her only brother. We are two people she cares about and we’re happy together. Why wouldn’t she be happy?”
Your lips curl up in a small smile. “We’re together?”
His smile reaches his eyes. “I don’t think I’d spend all day like this with you if we weren’t.”
You kiss him, chaste and slow, and letting go before the heat travels back to your head, fogging your rationale. “I like you a lot, Chan.”
“I like you a lot, Y/n.”
“What about your career?”
He rolls his eyes, filling rubbing circles in your hips. “Why? Scared this superstar will run away from you for his chance in the spotlight?”
You grin mischievously, “No, aren’t you worried I’ll outshine you on the red carpet? I’ll be your date for every one of them now.” 
“Then they’ll have no choice but to put me in everything under the sun.” He grins back.
2K notes · View notes
ddejavvu · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader
Summary: months into the war and it's not as exhilarating as you'd hoped - not for your battalion, anyway. when the air conditioning in your compound blows, an old friend brings his tech genius of a padawan to fix it for you. while anakin is working, you convince his master to spar for old times' sake, and simple adrenaline gives way to a landslide of long-buried feelings neither of you should have for each other.
Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni, fem!reader, jedi!reader, reader is a general, sweat kink (? they are really sweaty and i talk about it a lot), oral (m+f receiving), semi-public sex (risk of being caught), sparring, lightsaber use, throatfucking, messy kisses, scratching/marking, lotsa spit, obligatory 'had you said the word' (sorry satine i had to steal his line)
WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox
A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! i didn't have time to write for like two months but it's done now and i hope you enjoy it <3 this is set a couple months/a year into the clone wars, but i have chosen to fuck with their ages a little bit. in this, anakin is like 12-14-ish, even though he was older in AOTC when the war began.
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Tumblr media
Neglecting the option of taking a padawan under your wing is what stuck you on this humid, blazing, hellish planet, and you almost regret it. You’d wanted more freedom in your duties, didn’t want a youngling clinging to your leg begging for help with their rudimentary saber drills, so instead you swapped it for what you thought would be constant battle, exhilarating speeder chases, and the glory of proving yourself. Unbecoming of a Jedi to wish for, yes, but you’ve never claimed to be Council-worthy.
Now your butt is sticking to the chair you’re planted in, overlooking a very empty, very desolate, very boring outpost. It’s so hot that you think you’ve melted into the chair and fused with its fabric. Standing might tear your skin away from your flesh, leaving an imprint of you behind in your seat.
“General,” One of your clone troopers calls, sticking his head through the doorway to your station, “Nothing on my scanners.”
“Nor on mine,” You drawl lazily, “We’re scheduled to be inspected today. Any word from the crew?”
“None.” He laments, “I just hope they bring a droid that can fix the cooler.”
The base you’re stationed to isn’t always this disgusting. The structure is wired with an air conditioning system to keep the inside much cooler than the outside, but after a rather unfortunate incident with a freshly manufactured astromech droid with some crossed wirings, both lay broken and singed in the maintenance bay. Your clones don’t know how to tinker with droids or heating systems, and you’d probably wind up just as ash-covered if you tried.
“Alert me when they land,” You order the trooper, leaning your forehead against the cool metal of the scanner screen before you, “I want to have time to change into an outfit I haven’t soaked through with sweat.”
The scanner grows warm against your flushed skin far too soon. Everything is hot, and sticky, and gross, and you find yourself yearning for the cold showers you used to despise at the temple. Perhaps you yearn for the temple in general, for the familial atmosphere shared among overconfident Padawans and exasperated Masters. You think specifically of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man you’d trained with, now Master to his apprentice Skywalker.
You haven’t seen the pair in years, but you remember Anakin’s blonde mop of hair, as well as his penchant for chaos. Watching Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with horror at whatever shenanigans his Padawan had gotten into that day was part of what helped you make the decision to decline one yourself, though you hold no distaste for the boy. He was simply young and untrained in the ways of the Jedi, and you were not a patient enough person to gracefully navigate that predicament then. You’re not sure you are now, either.
Even though you know you’re better suited on your own, you wonder if you’d have been more fulfilled with a Padawan learner of your own. Surely anything could be better than this, wasting away- rotting on a planet hot enough to boil your blood if you stepped outside without proper protection.
Your base is secluded and temperature-controlled, even if the contraption that the Republic had fashioned under pressure of time to keep you isolated is rather crude. It’s, in essence, a large dome, seals in place to ensure that vessels can land and takeoff without destroying the temperature control. It’s cooler within the dome than it is outside of it, but the hurriedly-designed system can only do too much, and you greatly depend on the air conditioning to do its job. Now that it’s not, you’re irritated from the heat, and you wish that the inspection team would just hurry up already. The patience you’d had drilled into you from your early years as a Youngling is nowhere to be found under the pressure of a heat wave, and your foot taps impatiently against the floor while you itch for some action.
You think it’s rather pathetic that you yearn for excitement so badly that you’re anxiously awaiting the inspection team. Their job takes barely an hour, a scan of your equipment and a survey of your troops. They’ll walk in and out without so much as a pleasantry, but you long for something new, something more, something exciting.
The call over your comms comes over an hour later, a time in which you remain at your post but begrudge it all the while. “General,” Your trooper barks, voice staticky and rough over the channel, “We’ve got visitors. Inspection team’s here. Initiating landing procedure.”
“Copy that,” You bolt out of your seat, barely remembering to lean over the microphone to reply, “Thank you.”
Finally.
Finally, someone new to talk to, even if they have the same face as everyone else you’ve spoken to on this long, dreary assignment. You’re friendly with your troopers, of course, but that itch for more is back in your brain, igniting you with vigor you don’t normally possess as you rush to greet the inspection team.
However, when you reach the landing bay, and the ship’s hydraulics hiss, clone troopers aren’t the only ones to disembark. Jedi robes make their appearance, shrouding the very man you’d just thought about, as well as the child by his side. 
Obi-Wan wears the years that have passed since you last saw him, but time has treated him well. His hair is longer now, gone is that stiff Padawan buzz. His braid is missing as well, giving way to luscious strawberry blonde strands that he’s slicked back so that they drag against the back and sides of his neck. Longer hair looks good on him, just as it had when he was fifteen and had refused a haircut for months in a typical, if rather tame, display of teenage rebellion. Anakin is also significantly older than you’d kept track of, but he can’t be older than fourteen if his lanky limbs and awkward demeanor are any evidence.
Obi-Wan smiles at you, and you nearly forget to shove down that shameful part of you that wants to take more out of him than he can give you. Even as Padawans you’d always gravitated towards the man opposite you, sneaking out to roam the gardens after hours together or sharing sly glances across mission briefings. But he’s an honorable Jedi Master - a member of the Council itself, so you’ve heard - and you wrestle down your repressed feelings to grin at him.
“General Y/L/N,” He greets with a smile so charming you lament that the Jedi Order interrupted his chances of being a model.
“Master Kenobi,” You greet, but you know he’ll chide you for the honorific if you use it more than once, “I wasn’t aware you’d be on the inspection team.”
“We’re not. Technically.” Obi-Wan admits, arm coming to press against Anakin’s back and nudge him forwards, “We got word that your air conditioning system is out, as well as one of your new astromechs. Anakin here is still an excellent mechanic, I thought we’d come out to offer you some reprieve from the heat.”
Anakin looks embarrassed by the attention that’s fallen upon him, in typical pubescent fashion, and you take pity on the timid teenager, casting your glance back at his Master, “Maker, thank you. We’re melting out here.”
“I can imagine,” Obi-Wan laughs, and you turn again to Anakin who’s anxiously awaiting your orders.
“Anakin, if you could fix our air conditioning, that would be wonderful. Honestly, I’m not even sure I want the droid fixed, it’s what got us into this mess in the first place. But they’re both over there,” You point to the shorted out panels, “And my troopers will offer you any supplies you need, like tools or wiring or refreshments.”
“Thank you.” Anakin nods, hands clasped behind his back obediently even if he looks mortified to be the center of attention once more, “I’ll have things up and running as soon as possible.”
“I’m leaving you here,” Obi-Wan warns the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t often leave you alone with machinery and tools, Anakin, for reasons we’re both aware of. Promise me you will not do anything reckless?”
“I promise,” Anakin mutters reluctantly, and you avert your eyes so he has some semblance of privacy.
“I mean it, Anakin. This is no time to experiment with your technical prowess. You simply fix their system and you wait for me back on the ship, understand?”
“Master,” Anakin pleads, “I understand.”
“Very well. Get to your duties,” Obi-Wan dismisses the boy, turning to you only after he sees his Padawan crouch by the singed panel.
“He shouldn’t take long. He most likely will try to tinker with the astromech, though.” Obi-Wan smiles sympathetically, “He’s not one to leave a droid unusable.”
“I remember he had a particular talent for mechanics,” You muse, starting off towards the main base intent on leading Obi-Wan to your rec room, “If I recall correctly, he figured out how to inconspicuously rewire his communicator to give you an ‘unavailable’ signal if he didn’t like what you were asking him to do.”
Obi-Wan scoffs as he lets you lead through the doorway, “Yes, my Padawan has always had very selective hearing. I’m sure you don’t mind not having one of your own.”
“That’s one of the reasons I justify my choice,” You chuckle, letting the door shut behind you as you make your way through the halls. The base that the Republic had granted you is spacious, even decked out with training facilities and rec rooms interspersed throughout your rows of quarters, but it’s unbearably hot and you’re tired of being cooped up inside of it.
“This isn’t bad for a base,” Obi-Wan muses, robes swishing behind him as he strides beside you, “But I hope Anakin fixes that cooling system soon.”
“Try being stationed here permanently,” You scoff, tugging at the sweat-soaked neckline of your tunic, “I have long since abandoned my robes.”
“Do you have somewhere I could set this?” Obi-Wan asks, fingers catching the front of his cloak as he slings it off. It falls gracefully from his shoulders, and he holds the garment up as he laments still having to wear the rest of his robes.
“You can leave it in my quarters,” You veer sharply to the right, letting him catch up, “They’re just down this hallway.”
There’s unmarked doors on either side of the corridor, and you’re still impressed that each clone trooper knows where their bed is at night. Your door has a plaque beside its frame that reads ‘General’s Quarters,’ and you’re not confident that you could navigate the halls without it. You type in your access code, and the door slides open with a hiss.
“Just set it on the bed,” You gesture towards your mattress, “If we have some time, I thought,” You reach into the closet, pulling out your seldom-used lightsaber, “We could spar.”
Obi-Wan laughs, discarding his cloak onto your bed as his eyes crinkle happily at the corners, “You’re lacking a bit of excitement here, aren’t you, Y/N? There’s no way you’d duel me willingly after I took you down the last time.”
You’d sparred together since you’d been handed a saber for the first time. Sure, your initial weapons were wooden, then training blades designed to be duller than their more advanced counterparts, before you’d finally been granted allowance to manufacture one of your own. But there were no more dedicated sparring partners than the two of you, and you can tell the man opposite you is fond of the reminder you’ve given him, even if he is trying to tease you.
“You did not take me down,” You gawp, “I mean- yes, I was on the floor, but I wasn’t done! You didn’t win!”
“Mm, yes. I didn’t win because no one did.” Obi-Wan sends you a sly grin, “Anakin interrupted us, don’t you remember? We never got to finish.”
“Then a rematch,” You insist, gesturing towards the open doorway, “Once and for all we’ll prove who the better duelist is.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll win. After all, I can tell you spend every waking moment practicing and making sure you lose none of your fighting abilities,” Obi-Wan’s hand darts out to switch on your holotable, revealing an in-progress game of chess. You’re losing.
“I’ve only been using that as of late,” You snap, defensive, “It’s insufferable to train without proper ventilation. And only when I’m not on duty. I don’t spend all of my time sitting and playing chess.”
“Losing at chess.” Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow, finally stepping out of your quarters so that you can shut it once more, “Come, Y/N, show me to your training grounds.”
The training room is just as hot as everywhere else on the base. You walk through the doors and humid air greets you, something that wrinkles Obi-Wan’s nose and rustles his mustache.
 “God, I hope your Padawan knows what he’s doing,” You groan, rolling up the sleeves of your own tunic but jumping excitedly into action despite the heat. You ignite your saber, slightly embarrassed by the thrill that the weapon gives you as it thrums to life. You haven’t felt this in a long time, at least, not paired with the thrill of battle. It’s significantly less awe-inspiring to ignite a saber against a training droid you know wouldn’t be able to singe your tunics if you stood stock still. Obi-Wan brings his to life as well; blue and green lights bathe your faces.
“I’ll go easy on you.” He smiles infuriatingly, cocking his head slightly to one side, “Ready?”
“Ready.” You jolt right, a fakeout before you dart left instead. He catches on rather quickly, though, and his blade clashes against yours as you aim for his leg.
“Nice start,” Obi-Wan admits, “But you can’t rely on misdirection for your entire fight. You’ll have to overpower me.”
“I could easily overpower you,” You swing left, breaking the contact of your two sabers, then jabbing so that he has to move his foot out of the way to avoid the plasma. He stumbles, barely catching himself against his back foot, but it gives you time enough to bring your blade up and around to nick at his shoulder, a hole now slashed into his tunic.
“Okay,” He stands straight, eyeing the tear in his clothing warily, “I won’t go easy on you.”
“Never underestimate your opponent,” You tease proudly, saber still ignited, “That’s one for me, Obi-Wan.”
“That doesn’t count,” He scoffs, standing at the ready, “I told you I’d go easy on you. Now I’m serious.”
“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You gloat, feet light as you step around him, “You lead this time, Kenobi.”
He does. He swings downwards, and you block your face with your own blade to stop him. He nearly jabs at your gut before you can prevent it, and you feel the heat from his blade as your own comes to block his.
You fling his weapon away with yours, and he lets you. After such a long period of no action (and shamefully little meditation) your abilities with the Force have grown slightly weaker, as have your regulatory skills. You can still sense what he’s going to do when he squares his shoulders, but you’re almost not fast enough to interpret those senses, and you barely make it to block him from swinging his blade in a fiery circle that would clip the edge of your arm.
“You’re rusty,” He taunts, his own Force abilities stronger than ever as his presence seeps through the cracks in your mind. You try to force him out, but it takes effort, and it’s effort you can’t expend elsewhere. It means that you can’t foresee his intent to aim for your face, and his blade hums inches away from your cheek as he holds it there.
You freeze; you’re caught.
We’re even,” You grunt, sweat beading at your forehead, “But we’re not finished.”
“Hang on,” He disengages his saber, letting the apparatus clatter to the ground as he tugs at one of the outer layers of his robes, “I’m going to shed a few things.”
“Stripping will not help your cause.” You tease, “I’m not distracted by sex appeal.”
Clearly, he isn’t expecting your jab, and he lets his mouth fall open as he slings off one of his garments, an incredulous laugh filling his throat.
“Y/N. You’ve obtained a foul mouth somewhere along your career. It certainly wasn’t in the temple.”
“It’s the clones,” You groan, “Try being stationed with a troop of grown men who went through puberty in record time. They’ve got the appetite of an adult with the filter of a teenage boy.”
“They’ve never tried anything with you,” Obi-Wan narrows his eyes questioningly, and you try to avoid looking at the sweat glistening against his tanned neck as he strips to his base layer.
“No, they’re respectful.” You assure him, “Just crass.”
“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan frowns distastefully, “They haven’t had Jedi training. I suppose I’m not surprised.”
He stands there for a moment with only his undershirt covering his chest, then decides that it’s still too warm, tugging at its hem to raise it over his head.
You feel your insides ignite with a fire you haven’t felt in a long time when his bare chest is exposed, skin marred and riddled with coarse, wiry hair. His stomach is flat but not as tight as you remember in your youth, softer now. You can tell there’s an impressive layer of muscle beneath the milky white skin, though, even if it’s not outwardly visible. He uses his tunic to wipe the sweat off of his face so you’re granted a moment to ogle him, your mouth watering as you try to conceal your thoughts. 
“Okay. Enough with this child’s play.” You shake your head, letting Obi-Wan have just enough time to toss aside his tunic before you plant your feet against the mat. Obi-Wan stands at the ready, both of your sabers ignited, “I want a real match. A long one, now that we’re warmed up. Best two out of three, Kenobi. Winner takes all.”
“Winner gets to stand in front of the air conditioning vent when Anakin gets it up and running,” Obi-Wan suggests, sweat trailing down his neck and over his chest. You avert your eyes, lest the fraile state of mind you’re in betrays you.
“Fine.” You shrug, reaching for the hem of your vest. It’s tactical, good for keeping with you on duty, but it’s etching lines of sweat into your back now. You sling it off, letting it land in a heap similar to Obi-Wan’s robes, and exposing the tank top you have on beneath it. “I know just the one I’ll pick. In my room, there’s one just above the bed. Maybe I’ll let it hit my back while I win at holochess.”
“I think the heat might be getting to you,” Obi-Wan cracks, a slight heave to his chest as he tries regulating his breathing. It’s hard when you’re as hot as you are to get enough oxygen, and you’re doing the same. It’s awfully difficult not to indulge in the view of his bare chest rapidly rising and falling, and you feel a tug below your gut as a vision flashes through your mind. It’s of what else could make him pant in such a way, and you can’t afford to entertain the thought, not around him. “I’m not sure which outcome is more delusional; that you’ll win this duel, or that you’ll win at holochess.”
“You’re wasting time,” You croon, charging with your blade poised for battle so that you have no more time to fantasize, “I think you’re scared.”
“Do I feel afraid?” Obi-Wan laughs, blocking your attack with little effort and redoubling to launch one of his own. The clatter of your sabers almost drowns out his words, “Reach out, Y/L/N, all you’ll feel is confidence.”
“I’m not sure I could feel you if I tried,” You lament, chest heaving as you block one of his swings, “Not while my mind is occupied with our duel. I am rusty, you were right.”
“Practice more,” He chides, “Less chess, more meditation.”
“One is a lot more boring than the other!” You groan, barely managing to get your arm up in time to take a shot at his own, “And the less boring one is chess, so that’s really saying something.”
“It may be boring but it is beneficial,” Obi-Wan lectures you, and you wonder if he thinks you’re still a Padawan. You fight with heaving breaths and monumental effort, the heat sucking your energy out through the sweat that drips down your skin. He turns and his back is glistening, which is really not a sight that helps you to stay focused.
“Now I’m starting to see why Anakin tinkered with his communicator,” You call, as Obi-Wan whirls around your left side, “You’re very dull as a Jedi Master!”
You have to throw yourself onto the floor to avoid a swing at your head, your right shoulder aching as you do so. But you scramble away from him, righting yourself and miraculously avoiding the blade of your saber coming into contact with the training mat.
You stumble to your knees, driving the forward momentum you have against Obi-Wan as he tries blocking you. You nearly get a nick out of his pants, but he pushes you backwards with the threat of his blade, and you fall with your back to the mat.
Your stomach drops when a blue blade hums hot and bright near your throat, its tip directed at your jugular. It doesn’t matter that it’s on its training setting; it’s inescapable and daunting when it’s an inch from your skin. You’re done for. 
“I may be dull,” Obi-Wan pants, beard glistening as sweat streams down his neck. His chest heaves as he speaks, bare and open for your eyes, and his pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to dart along his lips, “But I am victorious. Does this remind you a little bit of the last time we fought?”
It does. He’d been standing over you then as he is now, and you’d had to fortify your mind back then not to let slip vulgar thoughts about being on the floor below him. His thighs, meaty with muscle and strong from training, are hidden behind loose pants, but their crotch has tightened slightly, a chub to what should be a relaxed surface.
A pang of arousal shoots down your spine, and suddenly the lightsaber near your throat isn’t the most daunting thing in the room. It’s Obi-Wan.
He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as you lay beneath him.
“Your thoughts betray you,” He observes, and you feel his invasive presence in your mind, sucking out the private thoughts coursing through your brain. They’re of panting breaths, heaving chests, wandering hands, and meshing tongues; passionate embraces, intimate attachments. Things no Jedi should fantasize about, not under the code. Things that should bring shame to you, and maybe they do, and maybe you like it.
“Your body betrays you,” You’re able to muster, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth as you glance pointedly at his bulge. It’s only grown since you’d last glanced at it; evidently your visions did something to him too.
He sees, or perhaps, feels what you see, freezes, then clicks his saber off. The blade retracts with a hiss and there is a distinct vacuum of sound where its humming once was. He breaks the unnerving silence with a clatter as he tosses it aside, feet still firmly planted on either side of your hips. 
“It’s natural.” He weakly supplies, a poor defense, “It’s adrenaline-fueled, nothing more.”
“Really? So when you duel sith lords, when you chop the heads off of battle droids, you walk away with a stiff dick?” You carefully observe his body language, feet poised like he might bolt if you make any sudden moves. He’s flighty, and you have to make your next moves carefully.”
“Y/N,” He begins, his voice weak, “I wish you wouldn’t use such foul language.”
“Is it the language that bothers you?” You push your elbows against the mat, hoisting yourself up at an obtuse angle to meet his eye better, “Or is it the truth it carries? Obi-Wan, you were right. It’s natural. And it is not something to be ashamed of.”
“It is against the Code,” He reasons, his voice still fighting to sound resolute. He offers no other reasoning, and you know it’s because he has none.
“It’s not.” You insist, “The Code is ancient and rigid. And celibacy is not required, only a level head.”
“That’s the problem,” He chuckles weakly, “I don’t have a level head when it comes to you, Y/N.”
“You seem as though you do.” You press cautiously, careful not to push your luck, “I’ve never felt anything unprofessional about your feelings towards me.”
“That’s because I haven’t been around you in a long time,” He admits, “Not consistently. I was better at controlling it- no, hiding it when we were Padawans. I had to do it every day, it was natural to me. But I am out of practice now, and I have been since you were stationed here. I barely have the ability to hide how I feel about you, Y/N. And- and it is not something the Council would approve of.”
You sit up now, fully straightened. You’re still between his legs, but you’d need to rise to your knees for your face to be level with his bulge. You plan to.
“The Council is not here. Nor can they see us, or hear us, or feel us. They will not know what we do, Obi-Wan.”
“I will know.” He breathes, his voice growing weaker each time he tries raising it against you, “Y/N, I will never forget a thing we do together on this base. If we… If you touch me, I will remember every brush of your skin against mine for eternity. If you- kiss me, I will never be able to put the thought of your lips on mine out of my head. And I would not know how to live without it for the rest of my life.”
Your heart sinks in your stomach like a stone in water. He’s loyal to the Order, he always has been. But you’d been so blinded by isolation, so convinced by your own delusions, that you’d assumed his loyalty to you would be stronger. But it’s not, and you can’t earnestly be angry with him for it.
You swallow what little saliva has accumulated around your tongue to give yourself something to do, then rise to your feet.
“It sounds like you should walk away.” You mutter regretfully. His eyes hold the same feelings, strikingly painful. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but before he can follow your orders, you continue.
“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”
You feel it, his swell of emotions. Every single one is unbridled, yearning, heartache, fondness, want; all of them unleashed from the man whose mind is usually a fortress. They’re washing over you like waves, invading your brain and turning your thoughts their colors. 
“No. I couldn’t,” He admits, “But-” and there’s always a but, “The Council would never forgive me if I didn’t.”
“They won’t know.” You insist, but it’s lost on him, “Obi-Wan, please make a decision. Who is more important, you or the Council?” Then in a more timid, soft voice, as his soft eyes bore into you and beg for mercy, you give him the opposite, “Who is more important… me or the Council?”
He kisses you. There is no warning, no shift in his Force signature, only his hands on your face and his lips on your own. There is strength in his touch, his hands firm where they pull your cheeks ever-so-slightly towards his face as if he’s trying to mash them into his own. His beard is rough and grating against your face, but it’s not unpleasant, especially when it brings with it his lips. His lips, which are much softer than you’d have imagined them, merely frame your own. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and the only indication you have that he wants more is the way that he holds you against him. Otherwise you’d mistake his courtesy for disinterest, and you tilt your head slightly sideways to encourage more enthusiasm from him.
When your lips reconnect he sighs, a breath from his nose that fans over your top lip. He’s letting you lead, letting you dictate whether you want to keep kissing him or whether you’ll suddenly switch positions; it’s like he’s afraid that you’ll rip off a mask and reveal yourself to be Master Windu, scolding him for his reckless passion. But of course you don’t, and you lick gently against the plush of his bottom lip instead.
He hums at the feeling of your tongue against his mouth, but he’s suddenly pushing against your cheeks instead of pulling.
“Are you absolutely sure,” He starts, but can’t seem to resist the temptation to steal another kiss from your spit-slicked lips, “That you- mm, that you want this? Because I cannot-” He breaks off with a weary, pleading, defeated look in his beautiful eyes, “I cannot turn back if we go further. If we proceed… I will not be able to forget what we do. If you’re not interested… please tell me now, so that I may save myself from loving you for an eternity that you do not wish to share with me.”
You scoff, moving in for another kiss at his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate, only pushing you back so that you can respond.
“I just spent five minutes,” You pant, desperate to reconnect your lips, “Bargaining with you to get you to forget about your nerves. And you don’t think I want this?”
You try surging forwards again but he holds you back, eyes still begging for your words.
“Please. I need to hear you say it.” He seems almost self-conscious, worried you’re not interested in him the same way he’s interested in you. But you have been since you can remember, and you’re more than willing to work around the unconventional aspects of your relationship if it means you can have him, even just for today.
“I want you,” You breathe, the exhale hitting his lips, “Please- Obi-Wan, I want you. I want you no matter what the Code says. No matter what the Council says; I want you.”
He looks like he could cry. He is devoted to the Order, far more than you have seen most Jedi, and to hear you choose him over the Code must mean a great deal. He pours passion into the kiss you share, chest filling with oxygen that he gulps just to be able to keep his mouth on yours for longer. He consumes you, fingers pulling at your cheeks and tugging you closer still, like he thinks you might fuse if he tries hard enough.
He groans into your mouth, his tongue more exploratory now that you’ve pledged your devotion to him. He’s not afraid of taking now, of getting his hopes up only to be thrown down, and he swipes the wet muscle in a hot stripe over your own tongue. He rolls it against your lower lip, so wonderful to kiss for someone with such lacking experience.
“No one is coming,” You breathe, exhaling against his mouth as your hands wander to his waistband, “No one- no one can see us.”
“I want you in your quarters.” He protests, grabbing your wrists when your hand sinks to his bulge and ghosts over it. He jolts at the unexpected contact, but holds you back, “I want to lay you down, Y/N, I want to indulge in every part of you. Worship you.”
“I will let you,” You moan, tilting your forehead against his and mouthing at his lips in a sloppy kiss, “You may have me any way you want, Obi-Wan. But here, I- I want to have you. I need to have you now,”
“Impatient,” He notes, sounding suspiciously close to lecturing you. But he lets your wrists go, and you sink to your knees instantly. He hears them hit the training mat, knows they must ache, but he can’t find any part of him available to worry about it, not now that your hands are prying greedily at the waistband of his trousers.
He’s a near stranger to physical pleasure, at least in recent years. He’s a grown man, he has urges, but he also has responsibilities, and the constant pressure of an ambitious (read: reckless) young Padawan under his supervision mixed with a quickly-rising rank within the Jedi Order leave him with little time nor interest to indulge in his barest desires. Your hand gently squeezing his clothed bulge as you wrestle with his pants nearly knocks him off of his feet, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle having your warm mouth envelop it.
Finally you tug loose the drawstring within his pants, and yank them down his thighs. They’re seldom bare, you see from the milky white tone of the skin there, but they are muscled and thick like he does not neglect them.
You can’t help yourself when you lean forwards, tongue already protruding from your mouth to lick a fat, wet stripe around one of his thighs. It’s sturdy beneath your tongue that dips into the crease between his skin and the parts of it that are covered by his briefs. His muscles tense like you’ve struck him with a fatal blow, and an open-mouthed groan escapes his lips.
His skin tastes of the sweat that’s currently moistening every inch of your bodies, salty and tantalizing. There’s no escaping it in the brutal heat, but it makes him all the more sexy, his skin glistening before you even get a chance to smear it in your saliva.
You’re guilty of impatience as he accuses, and you can’t resist mouthing at his covered bulge. He’s half-hard, but when your lips purse around the outline of his cock in his briefs he twitches, and you feel him stiffen against the restraints of his underwear on your tongue. 
His knees give out with no warning, and he barely has the foresight to grab desperately at a bench press behind him for stability. He falls quickly to its surface, perching on the edge of it while you desperately chase his cock. You fit your mouth again over his briefs and drool against the fabric, surely soaking it through with your saliva. His cock, though restrained, is heavy and thick on your tongue, making your mouth water and produce enough drool to soak through his entire ensemble. His hands clutch the bench beneath him with white knuckles, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shouting as you suck at his clothed cock.
“Oh, Y/N,” He pants, voice strained as you get lost in your task and forget that you need to actually pull his briefs down. He reaches for your head, gently nudging you away with his knuckles against your temple.
“Darling, please, I can’t- I won’t last for very long. Please, have me properly.”
He grips at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down hurriedly and letting his cock spring free. It’s of decent length, but slightly thicker than average, its base shrouded by a patch of curled hair at his groin. It’s a similar caramel color to the rest of his hair, and his sweat has accumulated particularly within its wiry constraints, leaving him musky. The smell might bother you if it were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, but here and now, on your knees for Obi-Wan in the training room, it’s the most disgustingly tantalizing thing you’ve ever smelled in your entire life.
That’s why you bury your face into it, the hair tickling at your skin. His hips jolt as you inhale deeply near the base of his cock, groaning and letting your tongue fall to drag against just the shaft of his erect dick. He’s painfully hard, embarrassingly seconds to orgasm, and your spit now glistening on his length doesn’t help. Or it helps too much; either way, he’s close to cumming and you haven’t even had a chance to put him in your mouth.
“Darling,” He begs, pushing at your forehead once more, speaking through an eternal shortage of breath, “Please, I- it all feels too good. I can’t take it. I won’t last long.”
“That’s okay,” You pant, your breath falling over his cock as it practically pulses with pleasure, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”
“Terrible,” He manages to chuckle weakly, but any further chiding he has planned for your cheekiness is cut short when he stops breathing. He actually forgets how when your wet mouth closes around the head of his cock, your tongue licking flat over its head and covering most of its surface area. It’s so much sensation so fast that Obi-Wan has to clench his hands around the bench not to cum right then and there, and he feels pinpricks of pain over his skin that he realizes are from his fingernails digging against his palms. When you draw your head back off of his cock with a slick sound, then move in again to take more of his length into your mouth, his lungs suddenly remember their function, and heave within his chest.
His groans are filthy and they only pool more slick wetness between your thighs as you kneel for him. You don’t care about the ache in your knees, nor the pain in your neck from the slightly awkward angle you’re indulging in him at. All that matters is his cock, heavy and thick on your tongue, sweat and precum alike flooding your taste buds. 
His restraint is put to the test. He’s a member of the Jedi Council, for Force’s sake, and he should have a little more control over himself than this. But it takes almost all of his energy not to buck his hips forwards and plunge the length of his cock down your throat, and it means that he’s not able to devote as much restraint to delaying his orgasm as he’d like.
He’s twitching in your mouth, and even with your faded Force abilities, mental muscles weakened by disuse, you can feel the tension coursing through his veins, hot and wild. You don’t need to look at his strained, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench to know that he’s devoting all of his energy to restraining himself, and you take pride in being able to undo Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with merely your mouth. You indulge in his painful hardness, tongue smoothly caressing the underside of his length as you bob your head back and forth around him. Each time you draw back you flick your tongue up and over the ruddy, leaking head of his cock, something that makes that fiery tension in his body glow even hotter.
“I’m going to-” He warns you, voice petering out weakly as he tries controlling himself, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I’m going to cum.”
“Cum,” You speak in unison, your word coming out muffled as you speak it against his cock. You smooth your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles impossibly tight beneath your fingers. You stroke them soothingly, encouraging him to unclench his jaw that’s wired so tightly that you’re sure his teeth are on the verge of cracking, “Cum, Obi-Wan, please.”
Even if you hadn’t asked him so kindly, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to withhold any longer. Not with your pretty eyes gazing up at him from between his legs, lashes latticing the tender emotions swirling in your gaze. Your fingers slide calmly, sweetly over the expanse of his thighs, and the mere thought of you digging your nails harshly into them and leaving marks is what elicits the final twitch of his dick on your tongue.
Evidently, you’re more in tune with his thoughts than he’d expected. You’d caught the quick image that had flashed through his mind, now completely unguarded to you, and you curl your fingers quicker than he can comprehend, carving searing marks into his thighs that will show up red for at least a week. Paired with the movement of your fingers, you suck hard at his cock, plunging your face forwards to nestle against the base once more. His tip hits the back of your throat with force and it makes you gag, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure what sensation is more overwhelming: the vivid burning at his thighs, the way the tip of his dick nestles so securely into the warm, wet sleeve of your throat, or the way that you’re breathing in his sweat-marred scent like it’s the purest oxygen you’ve ever had in your lungs. All he knows is that together, they’re his undoing, and he lets out a rugged cry; he can’t control himself any longer when pleasure roars through him with a fury he’s almost frightened of. 
He’s always calm, collected, in control. But now he’s grabbing your face with shaking hands as he pumps warm spurts of cum down your throat, holding your jaw steady so that you can’t back away, not that you want to. He holds you in place while his thighs begin to tremble, your tongue continuously smoothing over the underside of his cock while it twitches in your mouth. He keeps himself fully nestled into the back of your throat while he cums, and if he had energy to be embarrassed about cumming as much as he was, he’d be apologizing. But he can’t, not when you’re swallowing him so eagerly, throat convulsing around the head of his cock and only milking more out of him. There’s obscene groans coming from his mouth, the kind that bring heat to your own core, and you think you could get off to the sound a thousand times over if you recorded him now. They’re deep, throaty, and desperate as he holds your face around his cock, gagging you on his dick as his orgasm takes control of him.
A part of your training that hasn’t left you yet was your extensive disaster training, in which you were taught how to extend the time for which you could hold your breath. That comes in especially handy when Obi-Wan’s hands cradle your jaw, keeping you snugly choking around his dick. You have to fight not to draw back at the strange sensation of your throat being plugged while his cum splatters against the back of it,, and you use all of your strength to keep yourself from panicking at the lack of airflow. You’re only slightly ashamed to admit that you’d willingly die like this, a fucktoy for his cock.
Once his orgasm has worked its way through him he seems to remember you can’t breathe, all of the tension having leaked out of his muscles. He inhales with a start, pushing against your cheeks and tugging his cock out of your mouth, “Oh, Y/N, darling- Y/N, are you-?” 
At the sight of your spit-soaked lips, tongue desperately running over them to collect any of the sweat that had accumulated there from being pressed against his pelvis, he lunges forwards to meet his lips with your own. He can taste the slight savory hint of his own release, your tongues meshing wetly and messily. He’s hunching now, even though you’ve straightened up on your knees, and he feels you clumsily palm at his dick, tucking him back away into his briefs. It makes his lips go slack with a gasp even though he’s just finished, and he’s more than eager to take you by the wrists and help you to your feet. You toss his undershirt at him with careless speed, and he nearly gets lost in its beige expanse from the way that his arms shake as he pulls it over his head.
“My quarters,” Your voice is thick and ragged, still recovering from your prior lack of oxygen, “We can- it’s soundproof, no one will know.”
“Yes,” He breathes, legs shaking slightly as he gathers the rest of the clothes he’d shed while sparring with you, “Um- we can... Anakin still hasn’t gotten the air conditioning running.”
“Uh-uh,” You shake your head, feeling nothing from the vent to your left, “Hurry, let’s go before-”
“General,” The door slides open, and you both startle, much less in tune with the force presences of those around you than you’d like to admit. One of your troopers sticks his head through the door, “The kid needs a multitool.”
You blink once, registering a slight soreness at the back of your throat, “Get him a multitool, then.”
You’re sure he can see your haggard appearance, and all apart from the glossy look of your lips looks like you’ve been sparring. Which you have, technically. You just hope Obi-Wan’s trousers don’t look like they’ve only just been hitched up around his waist again, or his shirt barely pulled down over his chest.
“I lost mine, general,” The trooper admits sheepishly. There was an abundance of the supplies that were offered to you before you’d been shipped out to this battle station, and more had been stocked for a long time in one of the supply closets, but your troopers are bored more often than not, and you shudder to think of all of the times they’ve used them as target practice by standing them on the balcony and opening fire. Apparently, you need to request some more from the next inspection team, as well as impress upon your troops the difference between an abundance of resources and useless clutter begging for a blaster wound.
“I have one in my quarters,” You sigh wearily, “Let’s see to it that we don’t misuse our equipment anymore, soldier.”
“Yes, General,” He nods vigorously, stepping out of your way to offer you the open door.
“Obi-Wan,” You turn apologetically, “We’ll have to continue our sparring match after I retrieve the multitool for your padawan. You’re welcome to follow us, though I’m not sure it’s any cooler out there than it is in here.”
“I’d like to stash my clothes somewhere, if you don’t mind,” Obi-Wan holds up the outer garments he’d shed, “I think it gives you somewhat of an unfair advantage if I’m liable to trip over my own tunics.”
You grant him a good-natured laugh as you pass your trooper in the doorway, and all in all, you think that the two of you have done a fantastic job at pretending his dick wasn’t in your mouth only minutes ago.
Your trooper makes the wise decision to stand outside of your quarters when you enter them, although any initial disappointment you’d felt at his poorly-timed request has well worn off by now. That’s all he’s guilty of, anyways; you find their antics amusing despite their destructive nature. It’s not his fault that you’re canoodling with the Jedi master, so you forgive him his abhorrent timing. You beeline for a locker in your closet, punching in the numeric code and letting the squeaky hinges reveal your small weapons store. It’s a multipurpose space, blasters on a rack that’s affixed to the back, a mount for your saber, and a drawer of various other mechanical supplies down below. You throw it open, and Obi-Wan watches you dig for the multitool where he stands by your bed, his tunics laid on your bedspread.
You realize all too late that one of your other mechanical supplies is in full view of the Jedi master standing behind you, black in color for subtlety but unmistakable in shape. It’s phallic and has a second prong that shoots off of the base to vibrate against your clit, something you only use when you're absolutely certain no one can hear. Besides, the sound could very well be mistaken for one of your troopers shaving their scruff, so you have ample opportunity. You snatch the multitool out of the drawer and slam it shut, making your trooper’s shoulders twitch in a quickly concealed wince. You’re thankful that only Obi-Wan was a temporary witness to your lack of organizational skills.
“Here,” You rush to hand it off, forcefully locking the cabinet and thrusting the tool towards the trooper, “Take it- uh, keep it, I’ll put in a request for more supplies tonight.”
“Thanks, General,” He nods warily at you, and you pity the way he’s taken your context clues and misarranged them to view your behavior as standoffish and exasperated with him, “My apologies again.”
“No worries,” You try not to snap at him, unnerved by the abnormal lack of mental pressure from Obi-Wan behind you. He used to tease you abundantly in your youth, prying at your mental shields and slipping snide remarks through the cracks while you fought to keep a straight face, but now that he’s laid his eyes on possibly the most embarrassing item you own, he’s completely still, completely silent.
“Goodbye.” You shut the door with a hydraulic hiss, and stand facing it until Obi-Wan speaks, pretending to fuss with the control panel.
“It seems you overlooked another multitool in that drawer,” His voice finally reaches over the silence, carefully bundled so that the underlying mirth is something you can only guess at, “Now I wonder if your battalion is really the cause of your foul mouth.”
“Shut up!” You whirl on him with cheeks blazing on opposite sides of your face like Tatooine’s twin suns, “Don’t tease me-”
“I’m not teasing you!” He insists, voice sounding aghast, like it’s out of the question, like he’s offended by the accusation, taking your arms into his grip when you look like you might shove him. His face is split into a smile - not a grin, which is reassuring - but a warm smile, even if there is amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“Yes you are,” You scoff, and you have half a mind to pull away when one of his hands releases your arm and anchors itself against your face instead. It’s warm, rough from wear but impossibly gentle. You fight leaning into it for as long as you can, pride still bruised, but he leans in to press his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss. 
Typical.
You’d gagged on his dick ten minutes ago, and he’s kissing your forehead.
“Darling,” He hums sympathetically, tucking your face against his chest so snugly that you think it was engineered for the curves and bumps of your skin. You relish the hug he traps you in, the tender hold even though you’re interested in something more carnal, feral, hungry. His voice is strong and soothing as he speaks, and the vibrations thrum through his chest and against your face “You had my cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago. I’m not going to make fun of you for having a toy.”
Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.
“Such a foul mouth,” You admonish him, tucking your grin away between the haphazardly-righted folds of his tabard. 
He pinches at your side, fingers greedily prying at the soft flesh of your belly through layers of clothing you wish weren’t between your skin and his, “Yes, well, it’s because I’ve had yours all over me.”
His hand, similarly bold to his mouth, flattens out along the curve of your side, tucking into the space above your hip bones. The other stays in place against your cheek, finger running idly across the underside of your jawline. You don’t know whether the shiver that shudders down your spine is due to the ticklish nature of his touch, or the sensual area he’s chosen, but he feels your spine thrum, and he presses further into you like it was an invitation.
“Darling,” He starts, back to that well-practiced hesitancy, “If you still want to…”
“I do,” You nod, feeling sweat drip down the back of your neck and soak into the fabric of your tank top, “Do you think we have time?”
“Anakin can occupy himself with scrap metal and multitools for hours,” Obi-Wan recollects with a smile on his face that isn’t committed to fondness or resignation. You’re sure he’s proud of his padawan’s abilities, but not of the havoc he wreaks with them.
“Hmm, that might be cutting it close,” You pretend to debate it, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, and he lets out a laugh as warm as the runoff heat from his saber with none of the bite of its blade.
“You’d occupy yourself with me for hours?” He teases, but when you nod, it’s earnest.
“I’d occupy myself with you for the rest of my life, Obi-Wan.”
The breath that he draws in when you begin speaking is the last one he draws for a while. Instead he holds it there, letting it burn and sear at his lungs while he wonders if any words he could produce with it would contain even a fraction of the yearning he feels roll over him in a nauseating wave. Very little has ever made him want the life of a civilian - his home is between the opulent walls of the Jedi temple, but any walls he shared with you would be infinitely more grandiose if only for your place within them.
“Had you said the word,” He elects to speak the truth, even if it isn’t even a chip away at the trove of feelings he keeps locked tightly away in his mind for you, “I would have left the Jedi Order.”
Would have.
You know why he won’t now, and you’re not upset with him for the reasons. You understand them, even if you don’t relate to them.
“But Anakin…”
“I know,” You nod against his chest, fingers taking hold of his undershirt’s fabric edge and fastening there, “You made a promise to your master. And to him. And he needs your help. I wouldn’t ask you to leave.”
“Would you have? When we were younger,” He idly strokes down the length of your spine, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.
“Maybe…” You admit, “Maybe if I’d known your trip to Naboo would bring about such change. Maybe if I’d known I only had a few years left with you as we were. But I didn’t. So I never asked. And I never will.”
He doesn’t react verbally or physically after your confession, but the silence that ensues isn’t an awkward one. Instead, he maintains his hold on you, and you feel a gentle wave of affection flow from him through the Force. Affection, appreciation, love, which you feel so broadly through the Force, but rarely so devoted to you yourself rather than the galaxy in its entirety. You’re no stranger to the feeling, but it’s different channeled privately between two people than it is as a way of life.
“Let us pretend,” Obi-Wan finally musters, his voice thicker than usual, though if you were not so in tune with him you wouldn’t have perceived it, “For the next few fleeting moments, that we are still young. That we don’t have responsibilities other than those to ourselves, and to each other.”
Though your youth may have escaped you, your mind weary with resignation and Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened with the perpetual exhaustion of adulthood, his touch does not feel tired or incapable. It feels strong, firm, and mindful where it slips from your chin to your waist. His other hand sandwiches you between them, and you’re tilting your chin up to kiss him before he gives any indication that he’ll do the same. But he does, his boldness almost reset from the interruption you’d suffered. Like you need to coax him out of his shell again, like he’s worried you’ve somehow changed your mind.
You take the back of his neck in your hand, finding it slick and tacky with sour-smelling sweat, and pull him down so that his lips smash messily to your own. It’s a move he’s not expecting, and a startled groan escapes his lips as proof. You drink it, sucking it down your throat and pulling him towards the bed with the same backwards momentum. He’s nimble even if he’s unprepared, probably to do with his extensive agility training. You’re more than ready to fall back onto your bed when your calves butt against the frame but he lowers you down gently, with ease, drawing back from your kiss despite your fervent protests to watch you look up at him.
“Obi-Wan,” You beg, your voice weary, “Why are you hesitating?”
“I’m not hesitating,” He answers, and you feel it to be truthful, “I’m admiring you, darling. I’m not unsure, I’m more sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“Prove it,” You plead, already pulling at the hem of your tank top. You peel its sweat-soaked binding off of your skin, showcasing the equally stained garment beneath it that keeps your chest closer to your neck than your stomach, “Please, Obi-Wan, take me like you want me. Not like you feel bad for having me.”
“I do not feel bad for having you,” He promises, mouth barely parting from yours to utter the words. His lips are pink-tinted, glistening with spit, probably a mixture of his and yours. He pants slightly, cheeks similarly ruddy, “Perhaps later I will. When I stand in front of the Council and tell them we conducted routine maintenance. When I lie, when I guard my memories of you from them. But I’m not occupied with that now, darling. Only with you, I swear it.”
“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” You hum, kissing an inch lower than his mouth, the apex of his chin that’s marred by the scruff of his beard. It’s prickly and rough beneath your lips, and when you draw back they glisten with transferred sweat, “I’m glad you’re not thinking of Master Yoda while dipping a knee between my thighs.”
“Oh,” Obi-Wan ducks his head, advances on pause as he plants his forehead against your shoulder, “That’s awful. Really, truly vile.”
You laugh, and despite his disgusted bravado, so does he. His chest shakes against yours and you relish the sound, hand still planted firmly on the back of his neck. You briefly consider breaking out your rusty Yoda impression, ‘kiss me, you must’, but decide against it, instead choosing to press his head closer to your torso, letting his forehead lay flush and sweaty against your shoulder. It puts the scruff of his beard on the curve of your tits, and you feel it burn your skin as he kisses along it lightly. 
His mouth is soft, and his beard is its abrasive opposite. They trail in tandem along the slope of your breasts, first the soft lips and then the burn of the beard, until he’s lit a fiery trail across your skin to the padded edge of your bra. When his lips meet fabric instead of skin he noses beneath it, surely smelling a morning’s worth of sweat accumulated beneath the weight of your chest. You’re self conscious, for only a flash, then he takes a deep drag of air, inhaling until his chest seems fit to burst.
“I’m sorry,” You find yourself humming, regardless of his clear interest, “I wish a shower would help. Even the cold water doesn’t prevent sweating.”
“I don’t want you to shower,” He muses, pushing his face between your breasts to kiss at the skin between them. He mouths gently, tongue sliding over your skin with little form and too much spit that blends well with your sweat, “Sex is not sterile, darling. Soap and water defeat the purpose.”
You’re not sure whether it’s his insistence on the natural state of your body or the way that his knee gently prods against your center, but whatever it is, your fingers itch and you fling them up to cup the underside of your chest.
“Take it off,” You beg, and Obi-Wan shows no hesitation in complying, his hands sliding beneath your back, rough and weathered from work. They’re gentle as they slide over the clasp of your bra, and you push yourself up onto your elbows on the mattress so that he can maneuver the stretchy fabric easier.
“Does it hook or button?” He nudges his nose against yours to ask, and your stomach flops at the question. Both the fact that he doesn’t have enough experience to know, and the way that he feels comfortable enough admitting that to you by asking so earnestly only make you want him more, and you’re barely able to mumble ‘clasp’ before pressing your lips to his own once more.
“Three,” You add later, against his lips, when he unhooks one and still doesn’t have the garment undone, “There’s three.”
He takes your orders with unfailing patience, a trait you’d admired even in your youth. While you’d been more prone to hotheaded outbursts, he’d take you by the arm and speak for the both of you, usually resulting in far less severe of a punishment than you’d have gotten if you’d spoken your mind. Then the two of you would share sneaky, fleeting glances at each other while scrubbing the floors of the refectory, trying not to laugh loud enough for the Knight unwillingly supervising your punishment to hear.
You’re pulled out of your reverie when he finally unhooks the garment and slips it off of your shoulders, meaning you have to draw back from where you’d tucked your face over his shoulder, giving him a view of his work. As your faces pass each other he offers you the same grin he’d worn all those years ago, his pretty eyes alight with the love you feel seeping from his fingertips. You see a glimpse of the boy he was through the man he’s become, and both are equally endearing to you. The first, because you’d grown with him, like ferns tangled together in sticky, clinging tendrils. The second, because he wears his accomplishments on his face, crows feet at the corners of his eyes from laughing at his padawan’s wayward antics, and frown lines for scowling at the same incidences only moments prior. He’d laughed at you in your youth, and frowned just the same at your more uncouth ideas for adventure, and now those expressions are etched into his face, like layers of makeup no longer dissolvable with remover. He’ll wear them forever, and you want to see him display them even in his old age.
He watches the way that your body moves when he peels the sweat-soaked garment away from your chest. He watches your breasts succumb to gravity’s harsh pull, sloping sideways and downwards rather than maintaining their tight compress towards your chin. He watches them sag, watches them fall to their natural state and declares, “You’re beautiful, darling.”
He takes them in his hands, their mass in his palms as he rolls his thumb over the skin of your nipples. They’d usually pebble in the cold but now they’re pulling taut beneath his touch, and when he brushes his thumb over their peak you stifle a gasp.
“Beautiful,” He repeats, and leans down to meet one with his mouth. He gravitates towards the right one first, and the embrace of his hot mouth against your skin tempts your back to arch. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, then drags up its surface, and his lips kiss over the stripe of saliva he’d left behind.
His beard rubs against your skin and it’s not rawing, not yet, but you know it will be the more he mouths at your breast. He’s licking, sucking, pulling, but never biting, teeth merely grazing your flesh rather than indulging in it. His tongue does that instead, flattening out over your raised flesh and dragging hot, wet stripes over the bud of your perked nipple.
“Obi- Obi-Wan,” You gasp, dragging desperate, heaving breaths into your lungs as your hands fly to his lengthened hair. You’d ruffled it many times when it was short and spiked, but now you’re able to get purchase in the strawberry-blonde locks, curling your fingers around the soft, sweat-darkened strands and pulling. 
You don’t pull hard, but it’s unexpected, and you feel the momentary pinch of Obi-Wan’s teeth around your breast. It floods heat to your already-pulsing core more than you’d have thought possible, considering the sweltering temperatures you’ve been in the whole time, but the soft groan that then ripples through your skin from the depths of his throat only makes you more desperate. All of a sudden the long-suffering heat is tepid by comparison, and you yank at the material of his undershirt so hard you nearly rip the fabric.
“Off,” You pant, “Please, take it- get it off, Obi-Wan.”
In a fluid, crouched movement Obi-Wan tears his undershirt off with one hand at its hem, his muscles flexing as he swings the arm up and over his head. He discards the shirt carelessly beneath him and it droops to the floor, no longer covering the bare skin of his chest that you’d admired earlier.
You have half a mind to do to him what he’s been doing to you, to sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest and suckle on his sweat-soaked skin. But he dips his face back to mouth at your tit once more, so you settle for running your hands greedily, desperately over the layer of soft skin that blocks his muscled chest from view. When he was younger, what seems like an eternity but must only be five years, his build was more defined. You’d gotten plenty of eyefuls of his bare, heaving chest during a particularly intense sparring match, or down by one of the large pools that were definitely supposed to be used more for reflection and tranquility rather than the chaos you’d wreaked upon them. But years of planning someone else’s schedule before his own has meant that he’s softened out around the middle, muscles still prominent when you dig your fingers into his skin, just not starkly visible anymore.
Age does that to a person; pushes them harder than ever before to achieve a less-defined result than they’re used to, but you find that you want to grind down onto the thin layer of pudge he’s accumulated just as much as you’d have wanted to drag yourself over his defined abs. The thought of doing both, either, anything makes you dizzy with desire that you express by scratching your sharpened nails down his skin, feeling his muscles shudder beneath your fingers.
“Darling,” He groans, choking on the word like it’s gagged him, “I- I think we ought to- are you ready?”
You marvel at his sincerity, at the idea that he’s not aware of the throbbing, slick mess that your core has become. You’d been ready twenty minutes ago, sprawled out on the floor beneath him, and you’ve only gotten more eager since then. His concern makes you want him more, and you use your grip on his soft hair to tug him upwards to meet your lips in a kiss. 
“I’m ready,” You breathe, laying the words out in a hazy moan over his tongue, “I’m ready, Obi-Wan, please- please take me.”
A groan melts from his mouth like molten butter, dripping over your tongue and down your throat. He pants, lets you suck his tongue into your mouth in a long, eager drag, then mumbles clumsily, “I want you. I want- I want to have you, darling, I want to take you.” His hips roll experimentally against your own, the tight pressure of his clothed cock digging into your panties as he nearly loses the function in the muscles that are holding him up above you.
He lets out another moan as you drag your hips up to meet his premature thrusts, and this time it’s a weaker sound, more strangled and mottled. It’s satisfying, knowing that you’ve reduced the ever-stoic, prized Jedi negotiator Obi-Wan Kenobi to a heaving mass of sweat and desire. His undershorts are rucked up around his meaty thighs, but he hasn’t yanked them off to free his stiff cock yet, so for a moment, all you do is grind against each other. 
The layers of clothing between you, one covering you and two covering him, provide frustrating boundaries but much-needed friction, and the scrape of his rough undershorts dragging against your thin panties makes your fingers curl into his back once more. You suspect that when he wakes tomorrow, your marks will still be there, and you take pride in knowing that he’ll have a very hard time forgetting you.
“Obi-” You really do intend to say his full name, but your breath leaves your lungs too quickly for it, and you revert back to the nickname he’d loathed as a teenager. Too juvenile, he’d protested greatly at the clipped diminutive, but he leans into it now. He licks the word right off of your tongue, his own plunging past your lips and dragging over your teeth in a messy, imprecise fashion. You get the sense that this is not about sex to him, it’s not about mechanics or equations or the perfect formula. It’s about you, and him, and you and him together. He doesn’t kiss you like a storybook prince because he kisses you like Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan wants to lick the spit out of your mouth and suck on your tongue. Obi-Wan wants to feel, not think, for once in his life, so he does.
“Obi-” You falter again, hands traveling from his muscled back to his hips. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his undershorts, then his briefs where they lay against the same stretch of skin, “Off. Off, please- Obi-Wan, off, take ‘em- off.”
He grunts his approval into your mouth, obscene squelching sounds coming from where his spit pools between your teeth and your tongue. He reaches down with a blind, clumsy hand to tug at his waistband, but when it doesn’t provide immediate results, he finds himself getting frustrated. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, not the frustration itself but his inability to control it, and he feels his brow crease in irritation as he reluctantly parts from your mouth to focus on the task at hand. All he needs is a little extra leverage to slide his shorts off of his waist, briefs bunched together, and as soon as they’re out of his way he’s reaching for your own underwear.
You crane your neck downwards to watch him, and the glimmering mess of saliva in your mouth practically doubles in volume at the sight of his red-tipped, rock-hard cock. It’s curved slightly up towards his stomach in its desperation, and there’s precum oozing from its tip, foaming and all too appealing. You want to suck him off again, to really choke yourself on it this time and never draw back for air, but there’s no time when he tugs swiftly at the elastic band of your panties, tearing them easily away from you. They drag beneath your thighs but he merely pulls harder, until they spring free and bunch up around your knees.
“Up,” Obi-Wan taps at your left thigh, and you struggle to bend your knees amidst their relentless trembling. He helps you, strength having stuck with him even when composure has abandoned its post. You get your left thigh up first, exposing your glistening cunt, smeared sticky with your own slick. His breath catches, you feel it stutter to a stop in his chest that you’re groping, and his eyes glimmer in the warm lights above you.
“Darling,” He breathes, taken by the mess of your drooling cunt. He reaches out, touches it carefully, with only the pad of his pointer finger. He ghosts it along the side of your slit, and even the infuriatingly chaste touch is ultra erotic. At the way you writhe beneath a single one of his fingers he brings his thumb up to stroke down your slit, catching wetness on his thumb that his mouth opens to accommodate.
He sucks your release clean off of his thumb, you’re almost certain he scrapes his teeth along his skin just to get it all. 
He leans into his own thumb, chases after it like he’s not the one taking it out of his mouth. He hesitates no further in clamoring backwards on the mattress until his knees hit the floor below, and he thanks the Force that the beds you were given are low enough for him to lean over the edge and bury his face in your cunt.
“Obi-Wan, no!” You plead, fingers tangling in his pretty blonde hair, “You’ll- you said- don’t cum yet, please, I- I want it in me!”
“I will cum in you,” He pledges, voice deep and determined as he nudges his nose against your wet cunt, “My darling, I’ll do whatever you ask. But I need you here, now. Please,” He breathes, his exhale shaky and warm as it heats your cunt, “Please, Darling, I want you here.”
“Have me,” You whimper, squirming your hips from side to side to propel yourself down the mattress. Your cunt bumps messily against his face that he doesn’t bother moving, and you buck your hips once, twice against his nose, riding his face, “Please, have me, Obi-Wan, you can have me.”
Your consent is all it takes. His mouth is open and his tongue is out the second you say the word, licking wet, tantalizingly slow stripes up your slit. He doesn’t breach it, doesn’t delve his tongue into your entrance, he laps at the slick smeared on the outside, as well as the wetness that has thoroughly soaked your thighs. Your skin is tacky with it even when he’s replaced it with his spit, and your cunt throbs at the meticulous approach he’s taken to appreciating every drop you give him. 
It’s too meticulous. 
After another slow, careful, nearly chaste lave of his tongue over the crease between your thigh and your cunt, probably just as soaked with sweat as it is with slick, you retighten your now-loose grip in his hair. You’d let go of the strands when he’d given you what you wanted, but now you want more, and you lead him straight to your core where he’d been lapping at your thighs instead.
“Here,” You beg, pulling his face against your drooling cunt until you’re certain he’s unable to breathe. You feel his nose breach your slit, nudged into your cunt by your insistent tugging on his hair.
“I need you here, inside, please.” You beg, pussy aching with abandon. His slow, careful ministrations had driven you mad, and now you are teetering on the edge of insanity as you nearly howl, “Please!”
His response is white-hot and wet. His tongue prods gently from between his lips as his jaw widens, and he watches your reaction as he fills your cunt with his slick tongue. A gush of your own wetness greets him, and as insistent as he is at meeting your eyes, his own flutter shut at the taste.
“Force,” He breathes, and the exclamation is uncommon from him. The muffled, garbled word sends vibrations straight into your cunt, and after the initial shock of his tongue inside of you, you feel his beard.
It scrapes abrasively against the sensitive, licked-over skin of your inner thighs, and prickles deliciously at the base of your leaking cunt. You feel sharp hairs prod at the curve of your ass, and his mouth moves fluidly, tongue wriggling with surprising prowess through the mess of slick you’ve accumulated in your cunt. It slides wetly along your inner walls that have made way for his tongue, and that will stretch eagerly to accommodate his cock. 
His cock, oh, you’d forgotten the thick weight on your tongue, and your jaw aches with the ghost of it. Your cunt aches, too, and when his nose softly bumps your clit you gasp as your hips jolt upwards. He catches your thighs with Jedi agility, his muscles not straining at all to hold you to the mattress. The casual, easy display of strength makes your thighs quiver, and something inside of you tighten like a knot.
He licks you out like he’s drinking ambrosia, the glistening substance smeared over his face and starting up the bridge of his nose. The noises that he makes are hungry and wild as he licks more, sucks more, takes more. He’d moderated himself at first, lapped the sticky spillings of your wet cunt like he was rationing a meal. Now he feasts, tongue losing focus from inside your pussy and rapidly licking over your clit. His lips suction on and his beard burns tantalizingly at your sloppy cunt. You feel stimulation everywhere, the knot below your belly tightening ever-stronger until you feel the beginnings of a fray. It’s a step you take, an incline that you scramble up, and each pedestal you achieve gives way to a higher one. You let yourself climb, climb, climb, against every pulse of his suctioned lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you breach the clouds as Obi-Wan broadens his sucking mouth to half-latch to your clit, his tongue delving back into your drooling cunt. You leap for the final pedestal and a surge of pleasure hits you, soaking wet like a wave that you ride back down to the surface. 
You tremble, you whimper, you love. Your thighs shake, the muscles in your stomach stuttering as your hips jolt and jerk. Your mouth produces such feeble sounds, whines and moans and ‘Oh, please, yes’s, and ‘Obi-Wan- kriff!’s. Your fingers in his hair latch tight but cling gentle, holding him to you as you lose control of yourself in the Force. All of the love, all of the passion, all of the attachment, all of the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-un-Jedi-like things that you’re not supposed to feel surge through the Force and hit Obi-Wan like Coruscant’s train, knocking the wind out of him, though he never stops sucking at you.
Obi-Wan licks you through your orgasm, tongue pressing tight and hot and wet to the quiver of your cunt, letting it spasm against his mouth. He sucks up every last drop of slick that you’ll give him, greedily mouthing at your cunt long after it’s begun stinging from oversensitivity. You want his mouth off, and his cock in, although that first part sounds like a heinous thing to wish for. His tongue is perfection, slippery and knowing you well enough to hit just the right spots even though it’s never had you before. You only push his mouth away to beg for his cock, but you’re tempted to let him white out your vision and lick at you until he passes out.
“Obi-!” You gasp, pushing instead of pulling at his golden hair, “Obi-Wan, no- no more! Here, up- here, please, and I want you inside of me.”
He lets you unlatch him from your pulsing cunt, rife with the sting of stimulation. You need only a matter of seconds to come down from your high, but they’re seconds you can’t afford to spend on Obi-Wan’s tongue, or the clock won’t ever start. He licks at a smear of slick over your thigh that he’d missed earlier, and his brain seems to register your begging.
“Alright, darling,” He pants, out of breath from the way he’d spent it all in your cunt. His voice is ragged, drowned in slick and thick with want.
He clamors back onto the mattress, all humbly-forged muscles and greed. He hovers over you, and dips down to claim your mouth the way he had your cunt: with broad, sweeping swipes of his tongue. He licks your slick across your tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.
“I’m here,” He soothes, his voice a notch deeper than usual and his words malformed due to the open ring of his mouth. He licks against your tongue once more, sloppy and hot, as his hips grind down against your thigh. He knows you need time but he doesn’t have long, and he grinds against your hip until you’re ready. You feel his stiff cock digging into your flesh, and it sends pulses of energy to your recovering cunt that make it beg to be filled. He’s not composed the way that he normally is, but he’s managing to hold himself together through grunts and groans into your mouth. If you don’t act fast, he’s going to splatter your stomach with cum, which wouldn’t be distasteful by any means, but you’d rather him paint your insides with it.
“You are intoxicating,” Obi-Wan proclaims, speaking directly into your mouth, an addict that can’t wean off of his drug, “I don’t know how I am supposed to pretend like this never happened.”
“Don’t,” You beg breathlessly, “Don’t forget me. Keep quiet around others, and- and when you are alone,” You reach down to take his cock into your hands, heavy and thick and waiting, “When you lay in bed at night, when you touch yourself-” He lets out something teetering on the edge of a whimper as you stroke your hand along his flushed length, an angry red coloring the tip that exposes how much self-control he’s composing, “-touch yourself, and- and think of me. Think of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt. Think of me, Obi-Wan.”
“I will,” He vows, his voice holding like a frayed rope with one thread remaining, strained and pulling and clinging together, “Please let me have you. Please,” He braces his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing in your palm, “Please darling, let me in. I want to be inside of you, I want to have you, please.”
You’ve never seen him babble before. Not when he’d been seven years old, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, caught with a stray tooka cat in his robes halfway back to the creche. Not when he’d been fifteen and a warrior, his side split open in a gory mess of blood and flesh and lymph and bone. Not at his old master’s funeral, the light from the pyre’s flames dancing upon his stoic features. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master at composure, but he is breathless now, sacrificing it to the dewy-warm crease where your neck meets your shoulder, and sucking up your sweat-salty scent in return.
You place your free hand on his back, sticky and flushed beneath your touch, and use it to help guide him into you. Your other hand, still wrapped around his cock, lines it up with your entrance and he needs little coaxing from there. He pushes himself into you slowly, courteously, but loses himself to some deep, primal urge that he’s buried beneath layers of meditation and balance. 
He comes undone.
His muscles surge and his hips buck in what begins as a steady pace, but transforms into a wild rhythm that pins you against the mattress. He lets out a groan into the sweaty juncture of your neck, something that sounds like it could be from a beast and not a man. You feel the scrape of his beard against the seldom-touched skin there and you’re sure it’s growing raw, but you couldn’t care less. He’s not holding your hips up - his hands are plastered to your side and holding you there with a force carefully and pointedly short of bruising - but you angle your pelvis up anyway, allowing him to hit that much deeper inside of you. The tip of his cock never hurts where it connects briefly each thrust with your cervix, but you feel it intimately, every vein and ridge and curve that his body has to offer. 
You’re grateful for the sound-proof walls of the military compound because you realize after a moment that you’re making noise just the same as he is. It’s softer, quieter, but it’s there, the underlying harmony to his leading grunts and groans. 
All the while he is soft and gentle, because what he wants is not sex, it is you. Perhaps if he were a lesser man, he’d squeeze you, or bend you, or break you, all to take you the way he wants. But it is the soul inside of you that he’s after, and he takes great care with the vessel it’s enclosed in. He holds you, but he does not squeeze you. He kisses you, but he does not bite you. He moves with you, not against you. Your hips surge upwards to meet the thrusts of his cock and he latches his mouth to yours desperately, pleadingly. Your breathing is short and staccato through your nose, fanning against his top lip as he mashes it messily to your own, and you’re much easier to bring to a climax the second time around, sensitivity still roiling in your blood from your previous orgasm.
“Obi-Wan,” You beg, the words spilling languidly into his mouth, as you move in tandem, in, out, in, out, forwards, backwards, everything, nothing.
“Obi- I’m gonna- ooh, I’m gonna cum,” You cry, overwhelmed by the consistent drag of his cock against the walls of your soaked cunt. You’re slick again, gushing enough to replenish however much Obi-Wan had licked out of you. It squelches as he drives his dick into your pussy, foamy from the repetitive motions that are only creating it at faster intervals.
“Please- please do,” He moans, his dick twitching inside of you, “Force, I- ah, there’s nothing I want more than to feel that, darling. Please- please cum, please-”
“Kiss me,” You plead, even though he’s never stopped, if the way that his mouth moves against yours can still be considered a kiss. It’s far from any conventional peck on the lips, mostly tongue and drool that seeps down the side of your mouth and into your neck, mixing with the sweat already lingering there from your workout.
He tries kissing you more neatly, his lips tightening and suctioning around your own, but the closer you both get to your impending orgasms, the sloppier his thrusts are, and the more slack his mouth goes, smothering your own instead of truly kissing it while his tongue continues its dogged pursuit of your own. It’s no matter; his spit leaks uncontrollably into your mouth and you relish the taste. You don’t need perfection, you need him.
You can’t help your wandering hand from snaking down to his waist, curving just below his cock to cradle his balls against your palm. They’re heavy and warm as you take them into your hand, and doing so elicits a gasp from the man chasing his release inside of you, his hips stuttering in their pursuit of the wet warmth of your cunt. You squeeze them, not harshly, just a gentle compression, and Obi-Wan melts. A whimper escapes his lips, still slack and pressed to your own, and though his thrusts momentarily slow, they resume at double the pace. He’s rapidly bucking his hips now, barely containing himself enough to lift one hand off of your side and bring it to your chest. He fits his palm over one of your breasts, your stiff, sensitive nipple caving against his palm. You gasp at the prickling sensation and your fingernails momentarily dig into his back, but when his dick twitches once more inside of you, desperate, fit-to-burst, you drag them down his back in searing red lines.
If you hadn’t been able to feel Obi-Wan cum inside of you, you’d have known it was happening from the cry he releases alone. It’s abrupt, like his orgasm catches him off-guard even though he’s been pursuing it. But you can feel it, you can feel his warm cum ooze out of the head of his cock, momentarily stationary as it’s snug against your cervix. You feel it gush from his dick, filling any and all available space in your pulsating cunt before flooding outwards, dripping down your ass and thighs in an obscene display that soaks right into your bedsheets. Obi-Wan rides out his climax at a pace rapid enough to coax your second one out of you, and you welcome the now-familiar sensation of cumming around Obi-Wan. It’s mind-numbing, your ears ring for a faint moment, and your cunt rapidly clenches and unclenches around his cock that’s all too happy to continue occupying the space.
He grunts, moans, and groans as his sloppy thrusts finally slow, and your cunt appreciates the reduced pace. You’re well and truly spent, difficult to achieve for someone who’d gone through endurance training since childhood, and you’re not surprised that Obi-Wan, too, needs a break. He lowers himself to your chest with a slow, shaky exhale, eyes closed and face glistening with sweat just as your own does. 
His beard grates roughly against your skin, shifted with every ragged breath that he draws in. His hair spills over the breast that his mouth isn’t nestled beside, and you stare down at his face, marveling how beautiful his barely-fluttering lashes and heaving chest are.
Before he opens his eyes he angles it towards you, so that the first thing he sees is your flushed, sweaty, open-mouthed expression. He’s in the perfect position to kiss the side of your breast, and it tingles with the phantom sensation of his palm flat against your perked nipple barely minutes before. His beard scrapes your skin like it has since you first kissed him, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to live happily without the scratch of it against your cheeks, or thighs, for that matter. The skin between your legs is still raw, stinging with the friction of Obi-Wan’s coarse hair against your flesh..
“You look beautiful, darling,” He hums, his voice grated raw from fatigue. His breath fans hot over your chest, but he pushes himself up on his tired biceps to hover over you. His weight against you had been comforting, but his gaze is even more so, and you let him loom over you.
His chest, peppered with auburn curls so fine they glisten in the poor lighting of your quarters, rises and falls deeply in front of you. You have half a mind to bury your face in it; you might if his face wasn’t impossibly more captivating.
His eyes search yours, for what you’re not sure, but you realize that his breathing gets more shallow until his chest stills completely. He only releases his breath when you reach up to thumb gently at his sternum, loosening his lungs again.
“Do you regret it?”
You suppose you didn’t have to ruin the moment so harshly, but you want to know the truth. You want to know if this was worth it, or if you’re going on the list of regrets that Obi-Wan pours over obsessively.
He takes a moment to answer, but you suspect it’s because he’s been caught off guard by your question. He shakes his head, dipping his face down to kiss the swell of your cheek.
“No, I don’t.” He mumbles against the dewy skin of your face, hiding his words there in self-preservation. You kiss the fleeting scruff of his beard as he pulls away, and your eyes find the blue of his instantly.
“You needed convincing at first,” You recall warily, something sinking in your chest now that you’re not puppettered by lust, “Are you certain it was the right thing to do?”
“Not at all,” He admits, “In fact, I think it was wrong of me. But I’ve done it anyways, and I am happy for that.”
“Why wrong?” You ghost your knuckles against his cheek, and he leans into it like he used to do when you’d clean scrapes and cuts he’d acquire while sparring. 
“I am more attached to you now than ever,” He offers simply, but it doesn’t seem like it pains him to confess. He seems lighter now, less embroiled in his own anxiety.  “And I’m not certain I can keep my personal feelings- well, personal. I don’t know that I could think rationally about you. That’s not desirable to the Order, or to the war effort.”
You bite your tongue, teeth digging softly into its muscle.
“All the same,” He continues, “Jedi are not without attachments. Younglings form friendships in the creche, and their minders love them. Padawans love their Masters, and vice versa. Masters engage in relations,” He acknowledges, then his brows tick up and he considers, “Ki Adi Mundi has four wives. Perhaps I’m not the most blasphemous Jedi they’ve ever seen.”
A laugh comes tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, and Obi-Wan’s face softens into a grin of his own.
“Five,” You correct him, “He has five wives.”
“Force, he’s a heretic,” Obi-Wan exclaims, but it’s all for show; he holds no ill opinions of the council member.
“I’m happy for his wives,” You hum, the sound just short of a giggle, “But I prefer your beard over his.”
“Oh, but he’s got a better mustache than me,” Obi-Wan settles on his side facing you, a smile etched permanently into his features as he plays along with the banter you’ve started. He relishes its lighthearted nature compared to the hesitance of moments prior, “Maybe I should grow it out and curl it like his.”
Before you can offer him another round in exchange for a promise to never shape his facial hair around Master Mundi’s, the walls of your compound give a creaky grinding sound, then a rumble, and air whooshes through the vents you’ve come to loathe for their uselessness in the recent past.
“He did it!” You gawk, sitting up excitedly, nearly forgetting that you’re topless, “Oh Force, Anakin’s a wizard! He really is, he’s a mechanical wizard, and I’m going to buy him a speeder for this.”
“Do not,” Obi-Wan groans, sitting up beside you and tugging you easily to fit your back against his chest, “The last thing that boy needs is the ability to go faster.”
“He did it,” You sigh happily, leaning back and pressing your lips to Obi-Wan’s. He reciprocates easily now, unlike before when he’d run himself ragged with doubts.
“That means we’ll be off soon,” Obi-Wan reminds you gently, and you deflate slightly in his hold, “But I don’t think comming each other should be any issue.”
“Every night?” You suggest, kissing at the prickly cleft of his chin.
“That’s- ambitious.” He chuckles, but it’s not meant to tease, “Every night, darling.”
“You can send me dirty videos,” You gush, scrambling to free yourself from Obi-Wan’s hold when he tries locking his fingers onto your sides, nipping sharply at your shoulder.
“I will not!” He insists, voice firm but chest trembling with barely-withheld laughter, “Force, if I pressed the wrong button…”
“Perhaps Master Mundi could share it with one of his wives,” You laugh, scrambling back into your underclothes and heading for the fresher to clean yourself up, “Hurry up and get dressed, Obi-Wan, one of my troopers is probably on their way to tell us the good news!”
Your suspicions are confirmed only moments later, thankfully, after you’ve both had time to right your appearances. You look flushed and sweaty, if anything, but the cool air hasn’t managed to flood the entire compound yet, and you’ve been exercising, so it’s excusable. No one but you two needs to know that exercising didn’t mean sparring for longer than ten minutes.
“Anakin, you’re fantastic,” You call, rushing through the empty hangar where he’s standing near the ramp of the ship, “You’ve saved us all. I’m fairly certain my troops would have resorted to fratricide if we’d had to melt here for any longer.”
The padawan gives you a valiant effort at a polite chuckle, and you press on, “For the record, I told your master I’d get you a speeder for helping us today, but he said no.”
“Y/N,” Obi-Wan starts, exasperated, but catches himself on the use of your first name. Perhaps it feels different now, coming out of his mouth much more measured than it had only twenty minutes prior. He doesn’t speak further.
Anakin’s eyes briefly glint at the fantasy of his own speeder, but he controls himself quickly. He’s a credit to his master, who manages to look convincingly like he hadn’t just broken a very long streak of celibacy. Still, you appreciate that war hasn’t managed to suck the most basic of excitements out of the child, and you reach up to pat his cheek in a gesture distinctly un-Jedi like. 
“Take care of yourself, and don’t let Obi-Wan bore you with a million lectures on economics, or politics, or the two combined.”
Anakin nods, but bites his lower lip to refrain from smirking, saving himself a lecture on sass later on. You hear Obi-Wan exhale huffily behind you, and you turn your attention to him when Anakin retreats onto the ship.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add to my apprentice’s willfulness,” He grouses, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in fondness for you both, “He’s got enough of that on his own.”
“Take care of yourself,” You ignore his teasing, your voice tender and sweet, slightly more than it had been for Anakin, “I know they don’t send you out much, because he’s only fourteen, but- but please take care of yourself, Obi-Wan.”
Perhaps if Anakin hadn’t been lingering on the ramp of the ship, perhaps if there weren’t five clone troopers stationed in the hangar, perhaps if you were the only two people in the world, like it had felt less than an hour ago, Obi-Wan would have kissed you. But he doesn’t, all he does is nod, 
“We will,” He vows, and you nod, satisfied.
“I mean it,” You continue, more threatening than your earlier sentiment, “Comm me.” And you think back to the request you’d made earlier, breathlessly, the words fanning out against his sweaty skin, “And… think of me.”
You know he’s recalling the same moment in time when his cheeks tinge pink.
“I will,” He promises, singular this time, confirming your suspicions that his mind is flashing with visions of your flushed skin beneath his hands, “And please take care of yourself, too, General.”
Something hard and aching tugs at the back of your throat at the honorific, such a far cry from the intimacy you’d shared. But now you are General Y/L/N, and he is Master Kenobi, and that is the way things must be in the presence of others.
“Master Kenobi,” You bow, bending at the waist and noting the soft tug of soreness there.
“General Y/L/N,” Obi-Wan mimics your gesture, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes.
He turns. He pivots on his feet and strides up the ramp of the ship they’d taken, Anakin waiting until he’s passed through the doorway to follow behind him. The door hisses shut, concealing them both, and the mechanical whiz-kid has the engines powered up in no time. You watch their ship take flight and navigate the narrow entrance to your hangar with ease, waiting until they’ve passed each temperature-isolating layer of defense that enshroud your compound and disappear into the planet’s heat-hazy atmosphere to turn away.
“General,” One of your troopers lingers behind you, “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” You put on a convincing show, smiling serenely, “I’d just forgotten how much of a challenge sparring with Master Kenobi is. I’m fatigued; I think I’ll retire to my quarters for some rest.”
“General,” He nods, stating your title like a vow of loyalty, standing at attention as the hangar doors finally shut you in. 
You walk the familiar path to your sparse quarters absentmindedly, feeling that same twinge of achiness each time you take a step. Only once your door hisses shut do you release the prim tension in your shoulders, slumping and slouching like you’d just escaped the throes of battle. 
There is a shirt on your bed.
It’s white, though it’s been worn thoroughly, so the color is muddied ever so slightly with the tan tinge of sweat. It’s rumpled, from a hasty removal. It’s laid over your poor excuse for a blanket, cream-colored against the starkly contrasting black fabric. It’s impossible to miss, which means it had to have been placed there deliberately; it wasn’t forgotten.
It’s Obi-Wan’s.
You overcome your momentary stun and pad towards the bed, reaching for the shirt with a hesitant hand. You take it, feel it ever-so-slightly damp with lingering perspiration, and your stomach flips.
It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.
The shirt winds up snug around your pillow, tucked beneath the Republic-issue linen. It’s invisible to the outside eye, but when your nose is pressed gauchely into the pillowcase you can smell Obi-Wan through it, a mix of natural and artificial scents.
The musk of cologne and the acrid smell of sweat. Composure and lust. What is right and what is wrong.
You and Obi-Wan.
Tumblr media
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
542 notes · View notes
nonstoplover · 7 months
Text
sleep without you ~ charles leclerc (cl16)
my masterlist | my f1 masterlist
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader
song inspiration: sleep without you ~ brett young
summary: charles struggles to function properly without her by his side, or a story of a night without his girlfriend.
words: 2.1K
warnings: nothing, just fluff and a slightly clingy charles baby <3
a/n: idk why but this song honestly screams charles to me whenever i hear it, so i just had to make it happen. also this was supposed to be posted on my one year f1-aversary as celebration (well technically it should be more if counting my childhood f1 years but anyway), but i was so caught up in another wip that i couldn't do it. so happy anniversary to me and f1 (two weeks late) with this lil ficlet <3 thankful for all that f1 gave me.
big thanks to the amazing lovely silverstonesainz for helping me make this better and to the equally awesome monzabee for making me much less anxious with her words. love you sm queens!!
please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!
Tumblr media
Charles spends a whole afternoon trying to convince her to have a night out with her friends. Just because they're in a relationship doesn't mean they can't have fun without the other as well from time to time. There are still a couple of weeks left of winter break, plenty of opportunity to spend time just the two of them before the season starts again. So the usual point of view, the usual reasoning doesn't stand a chance – that they should spend as much time together as they can, before he's back to travelling all around the world.
"Go to a club, grab some drinks, dance and laugh the night away", he tells her. The usual bestie coffee dates or walks in the park that she usually raises as argument are not the same as a night out, and she hasn't done that for so long now. Definitely not since he's been back home, and he knows just how much she enjoys dancing her heart out.
(y/n) agrees after a short while, accepting his reasons, knowing full well that he's right, and after a few phone calls she starts getting ready, soon walking out the front door, dressed all pretty and dolled up.
Doesn't take long before Charles realises what he's done. A feeling tingles in his chest, one he recognises swiftly. He's miserable. Solely because she's not there by his side, as he makes dinner, eats it – all by himself –, before settling on the couch to occupy himself with a movie. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't pay any attention to it. He doesn't even know what's going on, he hasn't heard a single line, too busy thinking about her.
When the credits start to roll, he switches the TV off with a surprised look in his eyes – how did it already end? He doesn't even remember the first scene ending. Then he moves into the bathroom to do his night routine, from taking a shower to putting on some skincare products, all the while wondering how long she will be out for? Will she come home soon? Hope tingles in his chest that the answer to his question is yes.
Having finished with everything, Charles lies down in bed, trying to read a book, then scrolling on social media, doing anything to keep his mind from straying over and over again back to her. He knows this is stupid, he was the one telling her to go out, why is he like this now? Lying awake on his side of the bed, the fingers on his right hand tracing figures onto the sheet where her body usually rests.
This is pathetic, Charles thinks. He never thought he would be like this, so miserable and impatient just because she's not at home, with him. He's tossing around, unable to find a comfortable position for himself – it seems like he forgot how to sleep without her. No matter how many times he's had to do just that, in hotel rooms all around the world. The past few weeks erased all those nights from his mind.
The delicious scent of her shampoo fills his lungs when his face lands just a bit too close to her pillow, and all of a sudden it's like he's burying his nose in her hair. It only makes him miss her more. Sleeping is impossible, he knows it now. He's only daydreaming, not actually dreaming, of her arriving home and being in his arms again.
Charles imagines the way she dances in the middle of the floor, her hands in the air, shouting the lyrics loudly to the song currently playing – most probably something she knows and loves –, and he can't help but smile fondly. Just the thought of her having fun is enough to make him happier, even in his misery.
He pictures a scene where a random guy tries to get too close to her, as it has happened so many times, whenever he leaves her alone for a few minutes at any club they've been to. It doesn't matter where they are, doesn't matter if they spent the night so far together, all over each other, someone comes into the picture immediately when he leaves, either to grab a drink for the two of them, or to go to the restrooms.
It's not like he doesn't understand those guys. She's simply gorgeous, and radiates such a vibrant aura that everyone is drawn to her. He honestly just finds it funny at this point. Nothing makes these men back off more effectively than her. Oh, the amount of times he bit back laughter watching the scene unfold from a distance. Seeing men crumble and disappear looking all ashamed, what a sight that is. And he doesn't have to do anything.
He wonders how many times she's had to fight off guys so far tonight, with him not even in the club, and he finds he can't wait to hear all her stories of the newest victims. Pierre never understood why Charles found it so amusing, he didn't seem to get it. The trust they have in each other. Knowing that it's him she'll come home to at the end of the night is enough to make him only feel entertained by each instance, and not irritated at the slightest bit.
But thinking about (y/n) fighting off men is only good enough entertainment for a limited amount of time, and soon the smile fades back into a miserable pout on his lips, as his thoughts turn back into ones of impatience, trying to make time move faster with short little prayers falling as mumbles from his lips.
With a sigh, he eventually sits up, looking around to find something he can do. At last he decides on grabbing a drink himself, maybe it will help stop the flow of thoughts racing in his head. A little welcomed dullness.
He takes a seat at the kitchen table, sipping on the liquid in his glass, enjoying the feeling of the light alcohol gently burning his throat on the way down, numbing his tongue along the way. His fingers stay restless, now drumming on the wooden surface. A few minutes later he realises they play a song, soundless except the soft thud of his fingertips with the occasional louder tap or little scratch of his nails when a finger finds a different angle to hit the table with.
A melody appears in his mind as he watches his fingers move, imagining how it would sound if it was his piano instead of the kitchen table. He would go sit at the beautiful, white instrument and try it, but he doesn't want to be so loud at such a late hour. And anyway, he's way too comfortable sitting where he is to stand up and go somewhere else.
He looks out the window, catching sight of the moon – almost full, just a tiny bit of it missing, and Charles examines the craters that are visible to the naked eye, though only as spots of a darker shade on the round shape.
Maybe he'll name this new musical piece that's being born in his head right now after her – well, if he ever finishes it. He'll keep the usual format, three letters of a city name and a date, only this time putting the time and place of when they first met. Or should it be the time and place of when he first asked her out? Or their first date? Or when she agreed to move in with him? God, there are way too many options to choose from. He decides to put this problem aside for now, he's not in a rush to name a song not even written yet.
As the clock on the oven changes all four numbers to display 2am, the action rouses his attention and makes him tear his eyes away from the moon and look at the numbers instead.
He would've never ever thought that he'd be like this.
Raising his glass he notices that there's only a small sip left in it, which he downs in a short moment. His tongue darts out to gather all the minuscule drops that might rest on his lips still, not wanting to waste even that much of the delicious drink. Then he stands up, placing the glass down into the sink, making a mental note to clean it in the morning before (y/n) wakes up.
Just as he ponders putting another movie on, maybe only as background noise if nothing else, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his pants. Taking his time, Charles pulls the device out, expecting nothing more than a useless notification from a social media app he shouldn't spend so much time on anyway.
Instead what he finds is a text. From her.
in a cab, be home soon &lt;3
Charles lets out a relieved sigh, his lips involuntarily curving into a smile, one that you could almost call giddy. It's not just the thought that she's going to be here soon, but the fact that she remembered to text him to let him know. He's in her mind, just like she's in his, even though she's been out with friends, having fun, drinking, while he's only been at home, all alone with his misery.
Now he can move back to bed happily, knowing that shortly she will join him.
It truly doesn't take long until Charles hears the front door creak as it opens, then the familiar jingle of her keys hitting the drawer in the hall, and his heart flutters with happiness. Finally. The high heels she chose to wear hit the floor with a soft thud as she presumably removes them, and the growing anticipation in his body seems to eat him whole.
Her steps grow louder and louder as she moves closer to the bedroom, and time slows for Charles. He watches in slow motion as she appears in the doorframe, being propped up on his elbows to have a better view, a lazy smile curling onto his face, and his eyes lidded with drowsiness.
"You're still awake?" (y/n) giggles, pausing in her steps for a second as her eyes take in the view he provides lying there. His lack of reply to her text made her think he's already fallen asleep.
"Of course," he mumbles. "Come to bed."
His voice is whiny and he behaves like an actual child, he knows, but he can't help it. He wants to sleep, and he wants to sleep beside her, feeling her warmth against his skin. That's the only way he can.
"Let me get changed first," she starts towards the closet, when a grunt of pure displeasure sounds from him along with the thump of his back as he falls into a lying position once more, making her glance back at her boyfriend. "What, can't wait a single minute?"
"No," he protests, pouting . "I've been waiting for hours."
His accent comes forth stronger when he's sleepy, and she can't help but smile adoringly upon hearing it. He's just so cute.
"Okay, fine, you'll get one kiss," she gives in. Charles resembles a lost puppy and she's sure he knows that's her weakness. She can't ever say no to anything when he looks like that.
So that's how she finds herself crawling into bed, trying to get as close as possible to the boy without causing damage to her dress. He grins, as much as his tired facial muscles allow, awaiting her lips touching his own. His pout becomes even more apparent, right until the moment he finally gets what he wants. His goodnight kiss. It's soft, slow and just so full of love it makes both their hearts flutter.
Then she caresses his cheek gently, whispering a barely audible good night, sleep tight to him, before moving back off the bed to disappear in the closet, leaving Charles to think about how he'd happily convince her again of going out if it means she'll come home to him, looking so radiant, properly buzzing with energy, eyes shining, hair messy but still looking so breathtaking. It's obvious how much it meant to her that she had this night out. He made her happy with telling her to go out with her friends, and he didn't regret it, despite all the miserable hours.
By the time she finishes her night routine and walks back into the bedroom once more, he's fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the room. She bites into her bottom lip to keep in the giggle threatening to burst out, and with a heart full of adoration and a head slightly dizzy from the drinks she's had, she gets in bed beside him, snuggling up close to him, revelling in the feeling of his arms instinctively finding their way around her body even when he's sleeping.
He truly only waited for her to come home and give him a goodnight kiss to finally be able to fall asleep.
Tumblr media
888 notes · View notes
dollwrites · 3 months
Text
ᴀɴɢᴇʟs ᴏғ sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴜʀᴏɢɪ & ᴋᴀʀᴀᴋᴜ
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!hashira!reader, noncon, breeding kink, descriptions of blood and injuries, instant loss / bad end trope, dvp, the boys are meanies, choking, degradation, lots of cum, brief oral sex ( m! ), fingering, all characters featured are aged 18+
𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3
𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 ∣ @serenesaku [ thank you so much, i hope you like it! ]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“If you drop her, our fun’s over before it even starts!” you can faintly hear Karaku harping, and your head rolls around on your neck— it feels like jelly, hardly able to support the weight of your head as it droops backwards to look up at the demon who has you in his grasp. his talons are wrapped so tightly around one of your wrists that you can see a trickle of ruby, feel it as it runs down the length of your forearm. the blood mingles with the dirt and scuff that clings to your skin as you hang there, suspended in the air by merely his claw’s grip on your arm. “Give her to me already!”
all of the muscles in your arm were on fire, sore and aching, and you felt as though the pull of your weight on the one limb had knocked it out of socket. that wasn’t the worst of your injuries, however, but most of the pain from the battle had numbed at this point, anyways.
you don’t even remember where your sword had clattered, broken and useless. wherever was, it was well out of your reach as the demon flies you higher and higher, as if planning to perch you atop the moon itself.
it had been quite the game to him already, flying you higher, and then loosening his grip to let you slip just far enough to gasp and fear the plummet, before he gripped your arm again. at this point, you were praying to whatever god could allow this to happen that they would simply kill you already and get it over with. being toyed with would’ve been scary enough, but you were Hashira, and you were supposed to win this fight. not become a demon’s marionette under the moonlight.
Urogi glances down, smirking with putrid delight as he sees the dulled, defeat-snuffed gaze as you take in your position. “Wishing I would really drop you, demon slayer?” he was mocking you, spitting the words as if they were soaked in acid. “Let you die this easily?” a low cackle bubbles up from his throat, amber eyes burning. “Not a chance.” the violent flap of his wigs send blades of cold wind through your hair and ruffles your torn uniform, you could swear the sheer force of it nicks your cheek as he swoops downward, diving towards the ground. “We’re not done playing yet!” the speed makes your head spin, but you’ve not enough energy to squirm or try to stop the impending collision, so you close your eyes, brows furrowed, and brace for impact.
it comes, but not in the way you expect. with a flick of his talons, Urogi flings you from his grasp and into Karaku’s, who laughs wickedly at the way you smack against his chest like a sack of potatoes, and then try your best to grasp his shoulders. you wanted to regain some semblance of control over yourself, find your footing, but he wasn’t having it. both fists grasp your wrists and pull them back. your knees buckle with a gasp of pain, and you’re once again supported only by a demon’s will, and his hold on your arms. you dangle there, clenching your weak fists. “‘M… going to…”
Karaku’s emerald gems light up, “You’re going to what? Kill me?” you didn’t have to nod, but you do so weakly, and he leans close. only inches from your lips, his fiery breath washes over you. you shy away from a demon for the first time in your life, letting out a soft whimper, “You’re not going to do anything, girl, but let me tell you what we’re going to do to you.”
as Karaku speaks, his lips moving and grazing your cheek the closer he gets, you feel the ground shake beneath you when Urogi lands behind you, talons cracking rocks beneath his powerful feet.
“We’re going to rip this demon killing uniform off,” Urogi’s claws work diligently to make good on his counterpart’s promise, shredding the fabric of your top, down through your pants until the black garments fall away in defeated, little strips. Karaku croons yo you, in amusement, “it’s not like it’s useful, anymore. Your demon killing days are over.” you let out a grunt of discomfort, feeling the drag of his talons against your stomach, biting at your vulnerable flesh. “But your demon serving days? Well, those have just begun.”
“— And we’ll defile your defenseless, human body.” Karaku flashes insanely sharp teeth in a daunting grin as Urogi finishes his threat, his talons grasping your thighs to hoist them up. your feet, that were dragging against the ground prior to this not sweep from the ground, and dangle helplessly as he spreads your legs. completely exposed to the one thing you were meant to hate in this world, the thing you’ve trained your whole life to kill, you felt disgusting and shameful, and your thighs twitched and fought against his strength to close. “Until it all but gives out.”
Karaku takes one look at your cunt as it’s presented to him, and a low gurgle of lust rumbles in his throat, dropping your hands to, instead, jab two fingers inside abruptly. you cry out and immediately grapple at his arm with one hand, trying to pull his hand out, while the other grabs for his horn and forehead, pushing with all your might, squirming and writhing, but you’re trapped. “Stop—!!” but Karaku’s guffawing drowns out your weak demand. his fingers are thick and rough as they pump into your unprepared core, though the rough treatment coaxes your arousal to life, encouraging you to soak his knuckles as he scissors them inside you. pressing his calloused fingertips against your inner walls, he can feel them spasm and tighten.
“Tighter than I expected,” his voice is a low, raspy growl as his fingers work relentlessly inside you, pummeling over delicate nerves. you can’t help but pant and groan, but you try to steel your glare, and push him off. “Your little Hashira buddies haven’t fucked you out yet?” his digits spread, testing the elasticity of your insides, and you moan, haplessly. “All those muscles and no brains. They promote a useless, little piece of fuck meat and don’t even take advantage?”
Urogi giggles from behind you, his lips close to your ear as he hisses. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that.”
Karaku, using his free hand to retrieve his cock, wraps his fist around the girth and pumps it to life at the same velocity with which he finger fucks you, and his fangs peek out against his bottom lip as he bites down on it, moaning low and guttural. “I broke her down, so I want to fuck her first.”
Urogi had been taunting you, kissing at the shell of your ear, whispering threats and excitedly watching you jerk and squirm to get away from him, but when Karaku says this, he pauses. you can feel the air behind a powerful grit of his teeth, as if Karaku’s claim annoyed him. “We broke her together—“
“Shut up,” Karaku waved off his counter’s nagging, grasping his ready cock at the base and guiding between your thighs. replacing his fingers with his cock was a sudden switch, and a size difference your body wasn’t prepared for. “I’m already in.” your eyes widen, your nails scraping at his horns and his face as he forced his way inside you. your walls spasmed and fluttered around the intruder, clamping down, instead of trying to push him out, and your back arches. the movement was intended to bring you a moment of reprieve, and shove him out of you, but the curve of your body only gives him the room he needs to slide hilt deep.
“F—fuck!” you exclaim; you can’t help it. the force behind his nesting is almost too much to bear, and you grind your teeth, glaring up at him weakly, with your thighs trembling. Urogi’s claws dig into them, blood beading to the surface as you struggle. “Y—you despicable, vile… uh!!” you were just about to make your stand, demand he pull out of you or else you would find a way to kill him with your bare hands, but his hips rocked suddenly. back and forth, falling into a rough and hungry pace that had you scrambling for breath, your feet flopping in the air. “Y-you can’t…!!”
Karaku howls with pleasure, both of his hands now wrapping around your throat, instead, a wild and primal look in his wide eyes. his lips are etched into a permanent, open mouthed smile as he fucks you with reckless abandon, cackling and crowing as he does so. “Aha! It’s been such a long time since I’ve had tight, warm human cunt!” his thumbs press against your windpipe, teasing it closed until you’re clawing at his wrists, gurgling pleas to breathe. it was hard to focus on anything but the lack of oxygen, and yet the sound of your squelching and the smack of his balls against you pounded in both of your ears. “It’s good,” his tongue flicks at his teeth, his breaths coming out in ragged breaths, “the more I choke you, the tighter your cunt squeezes me!”
Urogi was smiling again, his eyes flickering down to the join of your bodies to watch Karaku’s cock slide in and out at a rapid pace. if he zeroed in, he could see your entrance clench down on him, as if to keep him anchored within you, and he chortles low, nipping at your earlobe. “It almost seems like she likes it, listen to how wet she is. Choke her harder, I want to see her cheeks turn purple.”
you shake your head, fervent, “D-don’t!!”
you didn’t want them to hear how your body betrayed you, how it spat and sputtered, grateful to be decimated with demon cock, but even that scream sounded less reluctant. your sounds were changing, twisting from protest to pleasure, and you couldn’t stop it. the tighter the demon gripped your throat, the more pleasure you derived from being taken against your will. the wetter you got.
Karaku’s brows knit together, focusing all of his energy into pounding deep, as he hissed through clamped teeth, “Cumming for you, little demon killer. Going to fill up that belly!”
you didn’t have time to process what his threat had been, because a few, forceful thrusts against your limit, his tip battering your insides, and he erupts with a wail, giving your neck one final, right squeeze that you thought for sure would crush your trachea. it doesn’t, somehow, and when his grip loosens, you choke on a massive influx of air, uttering a defeated, “N-no, not inside—“ though it was too late. you could feel his cum in your guts, much more than a human could produce, sloshing about as he continued. he didn’t pull out, or even slow his pace. dribbling white release out with every buck of his powerful hips, his climax only seemed to spur him to fuck you harder.
“Do you feel that, Hashira?” Karaku taunts, grabbing your hair at the roots to pull your head up, forcing you to stare deep into his eyes. every thrust pushes his release deeper into you, and you mewl and groan, “You’re full of demon cum.” your eyes roll around in your head when it shakes, but Karaku swipes his mouth over yours, tasting your kiss with his long, invasive tongue. “You’re my breeding bitch now.”
“Ours. We’re supposed to be sharing her, did you forget?” Urogi nagged, dropping one of your legs to free a hand. your toe scrapes against the ground, leg limply dangling, but you don’t have the energy to use it to fight back— all of your resistance Karaku had already fucked from your body. you assume, with Urogi’s shifting behind you, that he too was grabbing and readying his cock, and you groan at the thought of being handed off for this to happen again. if you had to satisfy them both, you would surely not survive this night. “Give me room.”
“She’s too tight,” Karaku barked, “give me a minute to open her up some more.”
Urogi snarls, and rubs the swollen head of his cock against the brutal fucking you’re getting, causing your eyelids to flutter as you try to look back at him. surely, he didn’t intend to force his way into the same hole at the same time?
“We’ll stretch her out together. I’m not waiting anymore, I want to break her, too.”
Urogi worms his way inside, spearing your elastic entrance and forcing you to stretch to not only accommodate Karaku’s brutality, but now Urogi’s cock, too. they were roughly the same size and shape, at least they felt that way, but the sensation of them rubbing together inside of you, bulging against your inner walls, was utterly maddening. you felt like you were being torn in half, or as if you were a rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war between the two demons. Urogi was just as eager and cruel as his counterpart, falling into a merciless rhythm opposite of Karaku, so as Karaku was retracting, Urogi was pounding deeper, keeping your limits brutalized with not a moment to recover.
it was difficult, at this point, to do anything short of blacking out. your eyes rolled around in your head, your mouth hanged open, drool leaking from the corners and mews and helpless babbling fell free. your body slumped, in between the two sturdy demons as they all but fucked right through you.
Urogi moans, much louder and huskier, breathing hot on your neck and in your ear. “She’s so much more receptive now that she’s been tenderized,” he takes a sharp inhale, his talons tickling your chin as he tilts your head back, instead, to smash his hungry lips against yours.
the kiss is wrong. rough and forceful, and you can’t fight it, so your mouth hangs open, gurgling quiet pleas for some sort of mercy. Urogi ignores them, and kisses you deeply, so deeply that you worry his tongue, that was prodding at every inch of your mouth, would eventually choke you as fiercely as Karaku had with his hands.
he breaks the kiss for a moment, to pull back and admire the broken expression on your bruised countenance, before he tilts his head. “You’re being ruined, you know? Turned into a mindless fuckdoll.” a wide grin teases his taut lips, “Your body is ours, demon slayer, to destroy as we please. To breed when we feel the need.” if you had any tears left, they would’ve streaked the dirt on your cheeks, but you couldn’t cry.
it felt too good.
“I’d… rather… die…” you breathe out, uneven and trembling, trying to hold on to what little denial you could still muster.
“Shut up, breeder.” Karaku chomped at your clavicle, sucking and biting, leaving his mark on you. “We’ll kill you if we get bored of stuffing your holes, but you won’t get that lucky for a good, long while.” Karaku was grunting again, speeding up, as he must’ve caught on the trail of a second orgasm, and you started to whine and whimper to punctuate each thrust. all of the stimulation— the rubbing against his shaft as Karaku pounded and the way you clench and milk the two cocks fighting for ownership of your pussy— must’ve pushed Urogi over the edge, because he dropped off along the way. coming undone and bucking his hips madly, whimpering with sordid delight as he kisses you again, his release joining Karaku’s and the load already inside as they cum together this time.
a strangled cry bubbles out of your throat, the pressure on your belly more than you’ve ever felt. you could feel a faint bulge, as if they’d inflated you like a balloon, as the excess that refused to fit seeps out between your legs, splattering on the ground underneath you. you could hold absolutely no more, and they both knew that, too. as if coordinated, they both release you, and you crumble to the ground on your belly, sliding off both of their cocks in the process. another eruption of their release oozes out from your abused cunt as you lay there, fucked out and weak.
“Look at you.” Urogi swoons, planting one claw on your arm to pin you in place, squatting down to your level. his cock swung in front of your face, still hard and smelling of your body. it made you dizzy, so you tried to look away, smearing your face in the dirt to escape. “You’re no soldier, girl. All of that training did nothing for your weak mind or your easily ruined body. Break your sword and feed you a couple of demon cocks, and your true purpose is revealed.”
you hear footsteps on the other side, and only a moment passes before Karaku grasps a fistful of your hair. you were familiar, now, with that terribly painful grip. and, upon jerking your head upwards, your open mouth is plugged by his cock, giving you no choice but to taste the cum that frosts it. it’s raw and musky, and your eyes roll back upon swallowing the taste, gurgling weakly. he laughs at this, pushing your head down to force it deeper. “Hanging off our cocks like a pathetic, human puppet.”
421 notes · View notes
holllandtrash · 1 year
Text
6 to 1 | lando norris (part 4)
pariring: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 4 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 3 here)
you and lando have gotten so used to each other in such a short amount of time that a few days apart feels unnatural. there are still lines you're scared to cross, but lando will do anything to prove he's not going anywhere
word count: 6.2k tags/warnings: social media au aspects, alcohol consumption
Tumblr media
You jumped when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders as you stood outside the hotel lobby doors. Usually it was Carlos finding any reason to scare you, but when you didn’t hear his laughter following your panicked inhale, you turned around and came face to face with Lando.
“Morning,” he smiled, eyeing the suitcase at your feet. “What time’s your flight?”
You were a little surprised he didn’t call you out for leaving without saying goodbye, but you both knew you didn’t owe him that. Whatever happened last night, the kiss you shared, it wasn’t supposed to turn into anything bigger.
You glanced at your phone, “In a few hours, I’m just waiting for the uber.”
“You’re not flying with Charles?”
The question confused you, but then you remembered that Lando was probably expecting you to attend all of the races. You had only missed a few since the start of the season and Lando had gotten used to your presence over the weekends.
“I’m going to London,” you told him. “I’m not going to the next race.”
Lando’s smile dropped, his eyes widened and was in resemblance to a puppy as we waited for you to make a joke and tell him you were only kidding.
But you were being serious and when neither of you said anything for a few seconds, it sunk in for Lando that he wouldn’t see you at all this week. 
“Why?” He swallowed. “I mean, at the risk of sounding needy, can I ask why?”
Lando thought he had done something. 
Seeing you standing with your luggage, Lando drew his own conclusion that he had done something wrong last night. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you, maybe he shouldn’t have asked about why you didn’t date drivers, maybe he shouldn’t have put you in the position you now found yourself in. 
You needed to ease his nerves, and the second you reached for his face, lightly brushing your thumb over his cheek, Lando started to think that maybe he was overreacting. 
“My friend is getting married,” you answered. “Her hen party is this weekend. The wedding takes place next. And then I’m probably just going to stay in London until Silverstone because it’s the weekend after anyway.”
Lando nodded and you could see him working through the dates in his mind, wondering when he’d get to see you next. It would be almost three weeks. 
But it wasn’t like he had a say in the matter. He would miss you, just like you would find yourself missing him, but you didn’t have any sort of commitment to him or the races. Lando almost felt as though he didn’t have the right to tell you that he wanted you to be there. 
“Where are you staying?” He asked, instead of saying what he really wanted to say. “In London?”
“Oh I don’t know yet,” your phone chimed, letting you know the uber was nearby. “I’ll call one of my friends when I land or I’ll get an airbnb. I’ll figure it out.”
Lando was taken aback by how unprepared you were, but if you were being honest, most of your travel plans were usually booked by someone else. Charles’ assistant made sure you had a room booked and transportation sorted out when you attended the races. If you ever travelled for modelling jobs, the agency would plan ahead. This was one of the few times when you were in charge of your own trip.
And clearly, that stressed Lando out a bit.
“You’re just going to land in Heathrow and hope that someone has a spare room for you?” Lando repeated back what you had told him, but making it sound more preposterous than it actually was. 
You shrugged, “I mean, yeah. Someone’s bound to. Or I’ll get an airbnb.”
“A last minute rental in the heart of London?” Again, he was wording it in a way that was making you second guess your decision. “That’s available for the next three weeks?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
Lando rolled his eyes, rubbing his hand over his face. He was in very visible distress and when his sigh was loud enough for people nearby to turn and look at what was going on, you pushed on his shoulder.
“Lando, I’ll be fine,” you assured him with a laugh. 
But he only shook his head and pulled out his phone, “I know somewhere you can stay. I’ll send you the address and key code and everything.”
“In London?”
“Redcliffe Square,” he clarified. You didn’t spend a lot of time in London, but you were familiar with that borough, nestled between Kensington and Chelsea, two of the most expensive areas in the entire city.
“Who’s place is it?” You asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t, don’t worry.”
“But whose place is it?” You asked again. Your phone vibrated in your hands and you glanced at the screen to see that Lando had sent you all of the information you needed to access the flat. 
“A friend’s,” he glanced over your shoulder when a black SUV pulled up along the curb. “He isn’t even in London. You can use the place for the next few weeks, okay?”
You weren’t fully sold on the idea, but with your uber arriving, there wasn’t much time to argue. The look you gave Lando told him you’d think about it and that’s all he could ask for. He took the luggage from you and wheeled it to the trunk of the car. 
Lando, for whatever reason, was determined to help you in any way he could. And you weren’t someone who ever needed help, but Lando did little things here and there that you hadn’t stopped to think about until now.
Like how he opened the door for you whenever he could. Taking your suitcase from you so you didn’t have to lift it. Sorting out your temporary living situation so you didn��t have to worry about it. Lando liked being able to take care of you, as much as he was allowed given the fact that you two weren’t actually together.
He shut the trunk again and returned to you, shoulders slummed as he took in a heavy breath. He looked at you as if he was trying to remember every detail of your face, seeing as he wouldn’t be able to just wait outside the Ferrari motorhome to see you or even show up outside your flat. 
Lando would be heading straight to Austria, in fact he had to finish packing because he too needed to go to the airport soon. 
“How am I supposed to move up your driver ranking if you’re not even watching the race?” He asked. 
“That’s on you to figure out.”
“Who’s next on your list?”
“Danny Ric.”
Lando’s eye roll could not have been bigger. It didn’t help that you were also wearing an oversized shirt from Daniels’ 2022 Ric Rodeo collection, finding it to be comfortable enough for an overseas flight. 
“Danny’s not even driving!” Lando exclaimed. “And the next race is at the Red Bull Ring. He’s going to be there!”
As a Daniel Ricciardo fan, you were looking forward to all of the content that would be coming up in preparation for the race. You were also looking forward to seeing what Lando had in mind to pass the reserve driver. With surpassing in points out of the question, Lando had to get creative.
“You’re smart, you’ll think of something.”
“You can’t just call me an oyster and then call me smart, it doesn’t work like that.”
“Fine, I’ll stick with oyster.”
“You little-” he clenched his teeth, cutting his words off. You could see him actively trying to mask his smile as his lips pressed together tightly. 
“I have a flight to catch,” you said, taking a moment to reach for his hand. You gave his fingers a squeeze, it was supposed to be a friendly gesture but one that held more meaning than just saying goodbye. 
And then Lando didn’t allow you to let go. The second he felt you pulling away, his grip tightened and he pulled you closer. Your heart started to race when his other hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up to his.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t use my last 12 seconds right now?” He whispered.
You had an answer. You had about three answers, three good reasons why he shouldn’t kiss you outside the doors of the hotel. For starters, there were people that you both knew in the lobby right now and if they just looked outside they would be left with questions neither of you could answer.
Neither of you could trust employees, within Formula 1 or at the hotel, to not say anything and you didn’t need this getting back to your brothers. 
But most importantly, you didn’t want to share these moments with the world. 
If Lando kissed you again, you wanted to be able to get lost in it. You didn’t want to worry about prying eyes or being interrupted or the media finding out and spinning a story into something that it’s not. 
“Save them,” you said quietly, feeling your heart sink deeper into your chest when he nodded and dropped his arm back to his side. He let go of your hand and reached for the door to the backseat to pull it open for you. 
Lando leaned against the frame of the door, watching as you made sure you had everything that you needed for a full day of airline travel. You opened the belt bag around your waist to confirm your passport, charger and wallet was safely in there. He chuckled when it took you an extra second to find your airpods, but even if you were panicked about missing something, the way Lando looked at you was enough to ease your nerves, momentarily. 
“No daisies?” He asked, referring to the bouquet he had gotten for you last night.
“I can’t bring flowers on a plane, Lando.”
He wasn’t content with that response, “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” you retorted. “I guess you’ll just have to get me some more when I see you in SIlverstone.”
“Shouldn’t you be bringing me flowers? I’m the one who got a podium.” 
Lando was stalling now, he didn’t want to watch you drive off. He didn’t want to go these next few weeks knowing you weren’t anywhere nearby. You would be in two completely different countries.
“Do it again and I’ll think about it,” you flashed him a smile, the last one he’d see from you in a while, before he reluctantly shut the car door. 
You fought the urge to look out the back window and wave at him, just like he fought the urge to send you a text saying ‘have a safe flight’. Those little meaningful actions weren’t something either of you did and you knew that the second one of you crossed that line, it would be so much harder to return to where you were before. 
——————
Two flights, three naps and eight hours of podcasts later, you landed in London. You were exhausted, starving and making a mental note to call Lando and thank him for hooking you up with a place to stay because the absolute last thing you wanted to do right now was to find somewhere to sleep.
You texted Thea, your friend who was getting married and told her you landed. She responded almost immediately asking if you wanted to grab drinks but you were ready to call it a night and assured her you’d call her tomorrow. 
You were half asleep in the uber, not even caring to look out the window to make sure you were headed in the right direction. You confirmed the address that Lando sent you and closed your eyes until the driver quietly woke you up when he stopped in front of the white period building. 
The flat was stunning, you could tell that much when you stepped outside. Even with the night sky casting over it, this home was elegant and not something you could ever afford. 
Rolling your suitcase up to the front steps, you pulled your phone out to double check the numbers that Lando had sent you. You typed in a six-digit code and waited only a second for the mechanism to unlock. You pushed the door open and jumped when an alarm started going off.
It took you a moment to get your bearings and find the next text that shared the code to disarm the system, but when the house finally quieted down and you were certain there were no other codes you needed to enter, you let yourself relax.
The flat had high ceilings with period features throughout, including a beautiful marble fireplace in the living room, large windows that led out to a stunning garden view and a huge semi-open kitchen floor plan that you couldn’t wait to use when you weren’t tired.
You left the suitcase at the end of the hallway and flipped a light switch on. It wasn’t that you were trying to pry, but you scanned the general area for any photos or memorabilia that would hint at whose place this was.
Unfortunately for you, nothing stood out.
Except for the vase of daisies in the middle of the dining room table. 
You walked over to the table, thinking that they were fake and for decor only, but the second you reached for one of the stems, you knew instantly they were real, and freshly cut.
Which meant someone had been here before you showed up.
Curiosity getting the better of you, you headed towards the fridge, thinking that if someone was staying here, there would be groceries put away. You yanked the door open and found your assumptions to be correct. There was food in there.
And by the looks of a lot of the expiry dates, this food was purchased today.
You needed answers and you needed to know if Lando was incorrect about the homeowner being away.
You wiped your eyes as you scrolled to find Lando’s contact name in your phone. There was a really good chance you were delusional and there was in fact no food in the fridge and you were hallucinating the flowers because of how exhausted you were, but it all seemed real.
Lando answered on the first ring. 
“Hey,” his voice chimed through the receiver, you could practically hear his smile. “How was your flight?”
“Yeah, good,” but when your 'good' 'was cut off by a very audible yawn, you heard Lando chuckle into the phone.
“Tired?”
“Very,” you laughed as well, leaning against the counter as you eyed the flowers again. “Hey, are you sure there’s no one staying here?”
“At the flat?” You heard a bit of shuffling on his end, like he was moving to a different location to talk to you. “No, no ones there. Just you.”
“So why am I staring at a vase of freshly picked daisies and why is the fridge stocked?”
He laughed again, what you would have given to actually be with him and hear it. You weren’t even sure what country he was currently in, or if he was somewhere in an airport waiting for a layover, but you knew you would have much rather preferred he was with you in London.
Not because you had feelings for him or whatever, it was just easier to talk face to face than over the phone.
“Well,” Lando took a breath. “Daisies are your favourite flower and you need to food to survive so-”
“You did this?” 
“You sound surprised.”
“I just-” you opened the fridge again. “When did you-” you picked up a head of lettuce and then opened up the drawer filled with an assortment of meat and cheese. “How did you-”
“I asked a friend to pick up some things,” Lando finally cleared things up. “Ria lives in the area, she went grocery shopping and picked up the flowers. I just didn’t want you to walk into an empty flat.”
“You’re so sweet,” you tucked the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you walked back over to the flowers. Another yawn passed through your lips and Lando laughed yet again, but you didn’t want your fatigue to be the reason why you had to hang up. “I’m going to get used to seeing the flowers, you know?”
“I know,” Lando agreed. “I’ll just have to keep buying them for you.”
“Or just plant your own,” you suggested. “Have a nice shrub of them in your yard. I’m sure they can grow in Monaco.”
“I’ll think about that- oh, hang on a second, yeah?” 
Before you could answer, Lando muted himself on his end. You wouldn’t have blamed him if when he came back he abruptly needed to go, he had a long travel day as well. 
While you waited for his return, you grabbed your suitcase and wheeled it down the hall, on the search for a bedroom. The first door on the right was a bathroom, the one across from it was an office and it wasn’t until you reached the last door on the left did you find the master bedroom.
Flipping on the light, an abstract painting of a vintage car hanging above the bed took you by surprise. It was a bright blue painting and it stood out, not in a good way, amongst a lot of the neutral decor. 
But again, there were no personal mementos. 
You checked out the ensuite, making sure the hot water actually worked, before heading to the closet. The racks were lined with a variety of jackets and jumpers, you assumed belonging to a guy given the size and styles. 
You really shouldn’t have been snooping, this wasn’t your flat, you were simply a guest, but the light blue hoodie called to you and you tugged on the sleeve to check out the design on the front.
“Sorry about that, had another call,” Lando’s voice made you flinch, not expecting him to come back so soon.
But your attention wasn’t on the phone call. It was on the jumper with a white logo in the top right corner, a logo that held the initials LN.
You tugged down the collar to confirm that this was in fact one of Lando’s merch items and not just fan made. LN4 was printed on the dark tag.
You cleared your throat, “Lando.”
“Yes?”
“Who’s flat am I in right now?”
A bit of silence followed by a faint hum, “Why?”
“Answer the question.”
“A friend’s.”
“Whose friend?”
Another pause and then a very hesitant and uncertain, “Yours?”
You let go of the sleeve and walked back into the bedroom, “Do you live here? Is this your flat?”
His silence was enough of an answer. You scoffed and you knew that Lando could hear your eye roll through the phone.
“I didn’t think you’d agree to stay there if I told you it was my place,” you quickly explained, his voice raising with humour before you could think about arguing with him. “I just thought the offer would scare you off because, I mean- it’s a little weird.”
“It’s very weird,” you corrected, eyes darting all over the room. He lived here. “Lando I can’t sleep in your bed.”
“I haven’t had sex in it with anyone, if you’re wondering.”
“Well I wasn’t, but thank you for clearing that up.”
Lando laughed, “Come on, Y/N. It’s better than a hotel or an airbnb or crashing on someone’s couch.”
But you still weren’t sure how you felt now that you knew this was Lando’s place. He might not have lived here full time, you were fully aware of his home in Monaco, but this was his flat. He handed over the keys to one of his homes like it was nothing, like the thought of you staying anywhere else was absurd. 
You had visited Milan dozens of times and Pierre never once suggested that you stay at his place. Carlos was the same, never thinking of offering up his home if he knew you were travelling to Madrid. 
You were friends with both of those guys, Pierre was on thin ice, but regardless, you considered them to be the two drivers you knew the most, that you were the closest to.
And Lando texted you his address in seconds, not giving you any other option.
You sat down on the edge of the bed, the palm of your hand curving over the luxurious duvet. If you closed your eyes and fell backwards on top of the mattress, you’d be out in seconds. 
“Hey,” Lando’s tone grew quiet, knowing he had lost you for a moment as you got sucked into your own thoughts. “Have I dropped down the driver ranking again?”
“No, you idiot,” you rubbed the corner of your eye. “I’m just thinking about how this is definitely a bit weird, but also really sweet and if Charles knew where I was staying right now, he’d run you off the track next race.”
“I can handle Charles,” there was a false arrogance to him. Driver Charles was a lot different compared to Older Brother Charles. “Just enjoy these next few weeks, okay? I know it’ll be a little boring without me there to annoy you, but try, yeah?”
“I’m going to rack up your electricity bill,” you decided, a devious sort of smile playing on your lips. You glanced towards his closet, “I’m also going to burn all of your merch.”
Lando sighed loudly, “You know what, I’ll pick my battles. This isn’t one of them.”
“So you don’t care if I set all of your LN4 hoodies to flames?”
“Well you don’t wear them anywhere so you might as well.”
“You’ve never asked me to,” you pointed out, but then couldn’t remember if that was actually true or not. There might have been a time when he offered you a hoodie or a shirt and you probably rolled your eyes at the mere thought of putting it on because that would mean you couldn’t rep DR3. 
“I shouldn’t have to ask,” Lando scoffed. “You wear Danny’s merch.”
“Well yeah I love him.”
Lando grumbled quietly into the receiver, something about Daniel not even driving, followed by a few more seconds of loud rustling. He started saying something else but his voice was muffled so you only assumed he had pulled the phone away from his face to talk to someone nearby.
This time when he came back, his tone shifted. 
“Hey, so I-”
“Have to catch your flight?” You asked, trying not to let the disappointment seep through into your words. 
“Yeah it appears so,” Lando sounded just about as annoyed as you felt.
You didn’t want to draw out this goodbye, “Good luck this weekend.”
“Thank you, I’ll, uh- I’ll talk to you later, I guess?” He sounded unsure. “I mean, I won’t call you because you’ll be asleep but yeah I’ll text you or you can text me if you want, but you don’t-”
“Lando,” you cut off his nonsensical rambling. He hummed and you could just picture his wide eyes and boyish features in your mind. “I’ll talk to you later. Have a safe flight."
ynleclerc
Tumblr media
liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 14,302 others
ynleclerc thea's getting married and we're about to make it everyone's problem
view all 213 comments
theaa_coleman i love you !!!
carlossainz55 when are you getting married
ynleclerc is this a proposal? carlossainz55 you wish
userrnorris i would give anything to see lando or carlos as her date to the wedding PLEASE
smooth_operator55 wait this explains why she wasn't at the race this weekend!!
paddockgf oh phew i thought it was bc charles banned her from hanging around w the drivers💀💀
You told Lando you’d talk to him later but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. 
You didn’t text him when you woke up, being bombarded with calls from your friends and he didn’t call you when he landed, exhausted himself from his travel days.
And then the week went on. 
The Hen party for Thea was chaotic. You were drunk for nearly 48 hours and hungover for the next 24. You didn’t leave Lando’s flat for a few days, needing to recuperate and it wasn’t until Tuesday afternoon did you finally feel like yourself again. 
You wanted to watch the races live, but your weekend was packed so you weren’t able to actually see what happened until days later when you curled up on the couch and turned on F1TV. 
Just like you expected, a lot of Daniel Ricciardo content at the Red Bull Ring, but even his presence wasn’t enough to distract you from a certain McLaren driver. 
Lando ended up qualifying eighth, not his best but also not his worst. If you had watched live there would have been a sort of obligation to text him saying ‘good job’ but you also weren’t sure if that was something you could do. It wasn’t as though you wanted to text Carlos and congratulate him on his P4 starting position. 
The race, for better or for worse, was a pretty dull one. No major incidents, nothing that caused you any concern. Charles started from fifth and worked his way up to a third place podium. Carlos started fourth and stayed there. And somewhere during those 71 laps, Lando dropped back through the grid and finished eleventh, unable to claim any points for that weekend.
Again, if you had watched it live you might have even called him. You might have said he still had a good weekend and that it could have been worse, but you were watching it two, almost three, days later. 
The worst part was you had been so disconnected from the outside world these last few days that you weren’t even aware of the driver standings until right now. You had stayed off Instagram except to share a few photos and aside from that, your phone died a lot throughout the chaos that was this weekend. 
You didn’t see anything. You didn’t see Lando’s race results. You didn’t see his post-race interviews where he sounded defeated over the lack of pace from the McLaren. You didn’t see the tweets from fans saying that Lando was missing his good luck charm (you). 
There was a lot you missed, but there was also a lot you were completely oblivious to.
You didn’t know that Lando thought about calling you after the race because he knew that hearing your voice would make his day a little better after that run. You weren’t aware that Lando paced back and forth in his hotel room, asking himself if you really were his good luck charm. And you didn’t know he changed his flights so he could leave Austria early and head to the next country the race was being hosted in.
Which just so happened to be England. 
He told his team it was because he wanted to visit some family before the race weekend. There was a decent sized gap between the Austrian Grand Prix and Silverstone, so no one thought anything of it, and it wasn’t necessarily a lie, he would go see his family, but it just wasn’t the whole truth.
So he landed in London Wednesday night.
It had been over a week now since you two last talked and it wasn’t that you were ignoring him, you just didn’t know what to say.
Days had passed since the race and you just assumed it was too late to say anything about it. Would he have even wanted a pity ‘hey I still think you did pretty good’ sort of text? He knew you weren’t planning on watching the race live, so that kind of message held the risk of sounding insincere. 
And Lando hadn’t reached out either, assuming you were enjoying your time with your friends, which you were. But you missed his voice, you missed his laugh, you missed talking to him. 
But there would be no calls or texts exchanged for the rest of the week. 
Again, you didn’t know what to say and then all of a sudden it was Saturday, Thea’s wedding and then you really weren’t on your phone. You were at the brides’ beck and call since dawn, you needed to be there to take the champagne away when she tried to pour another glass before noon. 
If you had been on your phone, you would have noticed Lando posted a handful of photos on his story and on his photography account, showcasing that he was in London. After spending the last few days with friends and family in nearby towns, he arrived in the city.
And he wanted you to know it. 
He didn’t want to come across as needy or annoying and come straight out tell you he was in London, so he teased the city on his social media, hoping that you’d see it and call or text him. It was an immature move, but Lando wasn’t sure where the two of you stood so it was all he could come up with.
But of course you had no idea what Lando’s whereabouts were. Your priority was the bride and then after the wedding, your priority was getting drunk with your friends at the reception. 
Lando was the last thing on your mind. 
Until he grew impatient that you hadn't reached out, so he was left with no choice but to leave a comment on your most recent instagram post.
ynleclerc
Tumblr media
liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 18,204 others
ynleclerc need my friends to stop getting married, im tired of crying in pretty dresses (so much love for you 2 tho)
view all 316 comments
theaa_coleman i love you i love you thank you for holding my tissues all day
charles_leclerc congrats to the happy couple !!
arthur_leclerc always the bridesmaid never the bride?
yn/leclerc im 21 leave me alone
landonorris orange suits you
Orange suits you. 
Was that him telling you that you looked good in orange or was he being sly and using orange as a euphemism and he was in fact saying that he suited you? Or maybe this was him hinting at wanting to see you in the McLaren garage or maybe Lando didn’t think before leaving that comment and it was unintentionally causing you to spin out. 
It didn’t help that you were drunk and to you, the room seemed to quite literally be spinning. Was it actually? You could be easily convinced it was.
As you sat on the bench outside of the hall, your heeled foot tapped against the carpeted floor. God your feet were killing you. This dress had rough seams that made your skin feel like it was on fire. Your earrings kept getting stuck on your hair but none of that was bothering you as much as Lando’s comment was.
What the fuck did it mean?
You don’t talk for a week and a half and that’s the first thing he says? 
You blinked a few times as you focused on his name on the app, clicking it to lead to his own profile and then clicking his photo to see what he had been up to within the last 24 hours.
It took you a second to piece together the photos you were looking at, but that fucker was in London. 
He was in London and he didn’t tell you? You’re staying at his flat. What was going to happen? You’d go back there after the wedding ended and run into him just sitting on the couch? 
Next thing you knew, you were calling him. 
You lost count of how many rings you heard before he finally answered. 
“Hey,” he sounded arrogant, like he was expecting your call. Or maybe you were just reading into it because you didn’t know what was going on and you had one too many shots with the bridal party and Lando said that orange suited you.
“Orange.”
He laughed, “Excuse me?”
You didn’t mean to say that out loud. Your intention was to call and ask if he was in London but for some reason you couldn’t get his comment out of your mind, so you rolled with it. 
“You think orange suits me?”
He paused. Or maybe he didn’t. The seconds were blurring together and you didn’t have a good concept of time.
“You’re drunk.”
Did you sound drunk? You didn’t think you sounded drunk. You diverted the conversation.
“You’re in London.”
“Are we just stating the obvious?”
“Why did you-” you hiccuped, you definitely sounded a little drunk now. A breath passed your lips as you regained a coherent thought. “You think orange suits me?”
“I do,” there was no hesitancy on his part. “I think you look beautiful in anything, but orange is definitely your colour.”
That’s all it took. A few words, a simple compliment, his smile that could be heard through the phone, and your heart was sinking into your chest. You missed him, you missed his voice. A week and a half wasn’t even that long but it was also driving you insane. 
“I didn’t-” you inhaled a breath as your words jumbled together. 
You wanted to tell him that you didn’t watch the race live and you also wanted to apologise for not saying good job and you were still stuck on the fact that he was in London so the next sentence out your mouth wasn’t understandable in the slightest. 
“I didn’t mean to say sorry, in the-” you dragged your hand over your face, trying to think of a word. “In the race, you were- you did last weekend.”
Lando’s laughter was music to your fucking ears. When something was really funny he always inhaled as he laughed and with it came a sort of squeal that was terribly contagious and you found yourself wanting to laugh along, even if you didn’t know what was funny.
Like right now, you didn’t know why he was laughing but you were laughing with him. Was it something you said? You couldn’t even remember what you said. 
When you both finally caught your breath after a minute, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying what was on the forefront of your mind.
“I think I miss you.”
“You think?” Lando repeated. “I know I miss you.”
He missed you.
“Where are you tonight?”
The question wasn’t properly worded, but Lando pieced together what you were asking. Him being able to understand drunk you was weirdly attractive. You didn’t want it to be a recurring thing, but you loved that he wasn’t asking you to repeat yourself or making you feel bad for not making any sense. 
“I’m staying at a friend's place, I didn’t want to bother you at the flat.”
“What if I want you to bother me?”
Lando cleared his throat, “Then I’d get in my car right now.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Get in your car…” you sat up a bit straighter, glancing towards the room where the reception was taking place. You had spent all day with everyone in there and now there was only one person you wanted to see, “...and come pick me up.”
You could hear the sound of car keys being thrown and caught, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. 
“Send me your location.”
And you did, accidentally hanging up on him in the process. Lando sent a string of laughing emojis before telling you he’d be there in about fifteen minutes. 
That was enough time for you to chug a few glasses of water and find the bridge and groom to say goodbye. Thea tried to pour another shot down your throat but if anymore alcohol entered your system, you’d start making some really questionable decisions. 
She was content with a hug when you lied and said you would puke on her dress. You wished them well and told them to be safe on their honeymoon. Next you found a few other members of the wedding party and said bye to them before grabbing your clutch and making your way to the front doors of the venue. 
Just in time for Lando to pull up in a sleek black McLaren.
You were so captivated by him just getting out of the car that you froze in place, your heels scraping against the cobblestone beneath you. He wasn’t in a Quadrant sweater, surprisingly, instead opting for a white t-shirt and a pair of dark grey sweats. 
There was already something about a man in grey sweats that had you, and many people, forgetting how to breathe. But Lando in that attire was otherworldly. He looked so good but it was well past midnight so you didn’t how know it was possible for someone to look that good. 
You weren’t even sure how you looked. There was a strong chance your eye makeup was smudged and your face was oily after having product seep into your pores all day. One of the straps of the dress slipped from your shoulder and you quickly adjusted it as Lando approached you, taking in your appearance like he was breathing in fresh air for the first time in months.
“Hi,” you whispered. 
“Hi,” he smiled. He raised his eyebrows when your knee buckled slightly, an indicator that you were in fact drunk but you played it off like nothing happened. “Did you have fun?”
You nodded, looking very uncharacteristically childlike, “I want to go home.”
You didn’t mean for the word home to slip out. You knew Lando’s place wasn’t home, you were only staying there for a few weeks and then you’d be travelling again. 
But even without him there, you felt so comfortable in that flat. You loved cozying up in the bed, you liked having the open kitchen to experiment with, you liked knowing that Lando wanted you there.
So no, it wasn’t home, but it was close enough for the time being and that wasn’t something you could often say, especially with your schedule consisting of trip after trip, hotel after hotel.
Lando reached for your hand. Hearing you refer to his flat as home, even in your drunken state, had his heart skipping a beat. He knew you didn’t mean it, he knew you just wanted to leave the party, but it meant more to him than you’d ever realise. This was something he would hold onto for as long as you’d allow him to. 
“Okay Little Leclerc, let's get you home.”
masterlist here
taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia if i missed someone im so sorry
1K notes · View notes
zipora666 · 9 days
Text
something I need to share with you guys..its been on my mind for months ..I HAD WH O’’C BUT NEVER SHARE IT AND NOW IM DONE WITH IT SO :>
Meet.. BUDDY MONKEY!
Tumblr media
Do you feel like your pocket got empty a bit? You want adventures and do silly pranks? BUDDY MONKEY ITS JUST FOR YOU!
So the story is buddy monkey is a character show on the summer episodes and whenever there is adventures and danger! He’s a pirate lives in a ship and he always like to find shiny stuff and treasure! he will treat you like as your big brother! He like to be sneaky and if you find your wallet missing you won’t be surprised it’s from him but dw he will return it to you (eventually) he like to do silly pranks and make others smile (but remember! He will never go far with his pranks or do on. People that are more sensitive) he is a gentleman and good “mama’s boy you can say!
some stuff they never knew: where he came from who was his family or his real name and if you look closely at the episodes at first he was ok with wally darling but with the time you can see he barely talk to him...something is off ..BUT ANYWAY LETS CONTINUE!
Ship design
Tumblr media Tumblr media
More lore to know yes he do have a rare bird..the story behind it he say like this:
buddy moneky: I find the bird when I travel to a land full of birds that was going to be doomed or destroyed when I got there and I saw all the creatures panic and the birds flew off but i hear someone was in danger I run and cut the trees with my swords to make my path easier and found a majestic unknown bird..not from this world look like and was injured on the wing then I look up saw a tree will fell on them I immediately grab the bird and go to the ship Idk what happend there ..but right when I was on the ship looking behind me ...the land got destroyed.
monkey buddy took her as his new travel partner he realize it’s a female bird called her “dimly diamond” Bc the moment the sun hit her feathers they shine like 1000 of diamonds
(The design)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
dimly diamond is a rare bird and may be the last one..they can live many years and buddy monkey like to spoil her with jewels and everything she needs so this bird very close to him and will protect him in any danger!
Now Bc I like to spoil my fav artists so..here ya go!
(@cloudy-dreams,@sketchquill,@sketchy-tour,@xx-sketchy-xx,@qep0ermint)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
WAIT THERES HUMAN VERSION TOO!?
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH *ahem* excuse me ☝️
Tumblr media
(Damn it’s been long time I did anime guys-)
Hope you all enjoy I had this character for idk..2-3 months or more lol
Forgot to mention he can stretch his body very long!
244 notes · View notes
gureumz · 6 months
Text
not my thing
like a freak, like a g [installment 3]
rating: explicit
member: sunoo, jake
premise: he might be the director of communications and relations, but he wants no part in this relation. unless you can convince him. or maybe it takes two to get the job done?
notes: fem!reader, greek life!au, university!au, sunjake threesome, dom!sunjake, dirty talk, slight degradation, blowjobs, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism and voyeurism
a/n: third installment of the 'sleeping around the frat house' series! more drama! unresolved drama! this is a threesome i haven't seen discussed here yet so i wanted to explore it. mc is halfway through the executive committee so she gets a silver star for now lol but anyways please enjoy! *divider by cafekitsune
Tumblr media
"i think we need to lay some ground rules."
jake is pacing his room, chin between his pointer finger and thumb, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. you're sitting cross-legged on his bed, hands nervously fidgeting with your sweater.
it's been a few days since the party, the one that led you straight into heeseung's arms and bed. you managed to evade jake the morning after, dashing out the door at barely seven in the morning, sparing heeseung a quick kiss and allowing him a brief grope before you made your escape.
you threw yourself into your university duties after that, (mostly) ignoring jake's texts and pleas for you to come over. what is he even groveling about? it was him who sprung up this arrangement, so it made no sense to you why he's suddenly acting all clingy.
but eventually, you had to give in.
'come over, please? i'll drive around the whole campus if i need to just so i can find you,' jake had texted a few hours ago.
with a sigh, you replied: 'stalker. be at the house in fifteen.'
"what ground rules?" you ask, finally meeting jake's gaze at present. you've avoided looking directly at him since you entered his room a few minutes ago.
jake's eyebrows crease together even more. he walks right up to you, staring down at your confused face.
"for whatever this whole thing is," jake says, gesturing wildly around with his hands.
"you'll have to be more specific than that," you retaliate, pushing yourself off his bed. you rise to your full height and despite being a ways shorter than jake, you square your shoulders, raising a brow at him.
"we need to talk about this game you're playing with my brothers," jake explains, the cadence of his voice slowing down as if recounting something to someone significantly younger than him.
"you know, the one where you try to fuck all of them, one by one?"
"huh," you huff indignantly, tongue poking at your cheek.
"if i remember correctly, you were all for it when you brought it up," you say, mildly accusatory.
jake rubs at his forehead, turning away from you. "i know! it's just..."
jake hangs his head low for a few moments, falling completely silent. your own annoyance ebbs away after a while of him just standing there, giving way to a hint of sympathy. maybe this whole thing was stupid. maybe jake is right to be jealous.
did he have the right, though?
technically...you're not sure.
"i just need some time," jake says with an air of finality. he quickly exits through his door without so much as a glance at you, sending you scrambling after him.
"jake, wait—"
"don't follow me!" jake calls out as he practically thunders down the stairs.
you halt right at the banister overlooking the living room and the front door, the same one you and jake drunkenly (kind of) confessed your attraction to each other. annoyance quickly rises in you as you watch the front door of the house slam shut. you can't help the frustrated noise that escapes you.
you walk over to the top of the stairs, fully intending to follow jake but someone at the bottom landing makes you stop in your tracks.
"hi."
another one of jake's frat brothers stands there, hands in his pockets as he looks up at you. he's wearing a plain black shirt and jeans. you notice that he's leaner compared to the others's bulkier builds, but he has the same handsome features, nonetheless, if not a little softer.
he glances back at the front door where jake had just stormed out seconds ago before returning his attention to you.
"i don't suppose you know where he's going?" you ask in exasperation.
the man shakes his head with a soft laugh. "even if i did, brotherhood compels me to act in jake's best interest."
"well, it's in his best interest to talk to me," you say with a roll of your eyes as you descend the stairs.
"clearly," the frat brother says, watching as you slowly approach where he stands. "it seems like he has a habit of not telling you where he's going, which then ends in you walking around in here asking if anyone knows where he went off to."
you stop two steps above the man. "that is eerily accurate," you say, eyes narrowing.
the man shrugs. "hey, news travels fast here."
you're hit with a wave of deja vu as he grins up at you.
"was that about...," he continues, glancing back at the front door. "your thing?"
"my thing?" you ask, confused.
"your mission to sleep with the entire executive committee."
you smile coyly, walking down the remaining steps and brushing past him. he smells strongly of citrus and fresh laundry and you almost stop just so you can take in more of his scent.
"you could say that," you respond, turning back to him.
the frat brother nods understandingly. you realize with a start that you don't even know his name.
"sorry, i don't think we've met before," you say, reaching your hand out.
the other man smiles. "i'm sunoo."
"________."
"i know," sunoo points out with a playful smirk.
"of course you do," you mutter under your breath.
sunoo chuckles, walking over to the sofa. he pats the space beside him as he plops down. you reluctantly follow, still half wanting to go look for jake.
as if hearing your thoughts, sunoo speaks up.
"look, i'm not gonna sugarcoat things and say that all will be well with jake," sunoo begins.
"you do know he talks to other girls on the side, right?"
you feel your stomach flip uncomfortably at those words. you allow yourself to sit beside sunoo, folding your legs beneath you.
"i...suspected it," you admit as you bite your lip, gaze averting to the side. "but it's not like we're exclusive or anything."
sunoo nods, observing your face.
"and are you okay with that setup?" sunoo questions.
you shrug. "i was. well, i still am. not quite sure where he stands on the matter."
"he totally freaked out on me when he heard i..," you clear your throat. "slept with heeseung."
sunoo grins sheepishly at this. "that may have been my fault. i told him about you and heeseung that night."
you raise a brow at sunoo but ultimately wave a dismissive hand his way.
"don't feel bad about it. he was gonna find out, either way. it's not like i was going to keep it a secret," you conclude.
"still, i'm sorry," sunoo apologizes. "being the director of communications and relations, sometimes my mouth has a mind of its own."
your ears perk up. director of communications and relations?
you're seriously starting to question your morals at this point. jake is out there, doing god knows what at god knows where, having stormed out after the two of you fought over you sleeping with his frat brother.
and yet here you are, thinking about fucking another one.
well, it was jake's idea, anyway.
your eyes swiftly glance over sunoo's figure, relaxed and lazily leaning back against the couch. he catches your eye just as your gaze returns to his face.
"so, what exactly do you do as director of communications?" you ask casually, resting your head against your hand as your elbow perches on the back of the couch.
"draft and proofread letters sent out to the school, other frats, and sororities, handle internal announcements, manage the social media, all that fun stuff," sunoo explains, counting off on his slender, perfectly tapered fingers.
"the frat's tiktok is really taking off, thanks to me," sunoo says proudly. he beams at you and you can't help but smile back.
"oh, you're the one posting thirst traps of the other members on the frat account?" you ask, shifting your weight to face sunoo fully.
he nods, shrugging nonchalantly.
"the likes and comments come flooding in," sunoo declares.
"i don't think i've seen an entry from you," you challenge with a raise of your brow.
sunoo scoffs, shaking his head. "i'm just the guy behind the camera. i'm better at thinking of witty captions than posing half-naked for the whole university and beyond to ogle at."
"i doubt that," you say delicately, subtly knocking your knees against sunoo's.
sunoo pauses, jaw unhinging slightly. a flash of realization washes over his face.
"you're a sly one, aren't you?" sunoo accuses lightheartedly. "don't tell me you're thinking of...it with me. really? while jake is out there sulking around?"
you scoff, eyes rolling. "he can sulk all he wants. in fact, he can go cry to one of his other girls."
sunoo seems dumbfounded, not even trying to hide his utter surprise and mild confusion. he sits up straight, bottom lip slipping beneath his teeth as he lets his eyes wander down your form.
"i'm not...casual hookups aren't really my thing," sunoo admits, voice softer and seemingly unsure.
"i'm not forcing you to do anything," you respond, holding your hands up. "you can always say no."
sunoo fidgets, his leg bouncing up and down. he eyes you warily but you can see a flicker of curiosity in his irises. something else is present in the way he looks at you. sunoo's eyes seem to sharpen before you, rendering him akin to a fox observing its prey.
men are so easy.
"but it doesn't mean i haven't thought about it before," sunoo informs quietly.
you smile, laying a hand on his knee.
"since you're the director of communications and relations, why don't you just communicate with me? let me know when to stop," you instruct, inching your way up sunoo's thigh. he stiffens and you pause, eyeing him cautiously.
sunoo remains still. you resume your movements, squeezing along the way. his breath hitches but he doesn't say anything to stop you. the tips of your fingers brush just below his crotch area and you look straight at sunoo, silently asking.
"one last chance to back away," you say.
sunoo gulps.
"go on," he whispers.
you cup sunoo through his jeans and he sighs, head thrown back. he adjusts himself, spreading his legs wider as his arms come to rest on the back of the couch.
before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward, catching sunoo by surprise as you kiss him square on the lips. his hand darts up to hold your face steady. you swing a leg over sunoo's sprawled out figure and his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you down onto himself.
you part from him briefly, lips slick with spit. sunoo's eyes are wide yet something dark lurks within. he rolls his hips up and you gasp, planting your hands firmly on his shoulders. you retaliate by pressing down on sunoo's crotch and you both moan, the friction sending heat up your body.
sunoo leans in, lips gliding up your neck. "there are cameras in the living room."
you glance up, scanning the corners until your eyes finally land on a white surveillance device on the right side of the room.
"who handles the footage?" you whisper, a soft groan following shortly as sunoo nips just below your ear.
"heeseung."
you smile, leaning your head further away so sunoo can continue on your neck.
"i'm sure we can work something out with him," you say, fingers toying with the hair near sunoo's nape.
the sound of the front door unlocking reaches your ears too late. you turn to see jake standing in the doorway, expression unreadable as he takes in the scene in front of him.
jake's face goes slack as he rolls his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping him.
"can't say i'm surprised," jake muses, kicking the door closed behind him and locking it.
you make a move to slide off sunoo's lap but jake holds a hand out.
"oh, please, don't let me interrupt," jake hurriedly says. a wicked grin takes over his features.
"in fact, pretend i'm not even here."
jake saunters over to the single sofa chair opposite the big couch. you follow him with your eyes as he plops down, clasping his hands over his stomach as if settling down to watch his favorite show on the tv.
sunoo shifts uncomfortably beneath you, hands gripping your thighs on either side of him.
"jake—"
"i said," jake presses on. you can see the way he eyes both you and sunoo darkly.
"continue."
"j-jake, if you don't want us to—," sunoo chimes in.
"if you're gonna fuck her, i wanna see it," jake cuts sunoo off.
you swallow, turning back to sunoo. he looks back at you, chest rising and falling rapidly. you feel him twitch between your legs and you bite at your lip.
"fuck," sunoo mutters softly before surging forward, enveloping your lips in his. you squeak in surprise, fingers tangling in sunoo's hair once more.
so, you're really doing this.
"suck me off," sunoo whispers, though his tone is commanding. his eyes flick behind you momentarily but his face is hardened in determination.
you stumble off sunoo's lap, helping him undo and tug his jeans down. you can feel jake's gaze burning through the back of your head but not a sound comes from the older. you dare not look behind you.
sunoo discards of his underwear too, letting his cock spring free. you take his length in your hand, circling the base with your fingers. you gather spit in your mouth, letting a drop fall from your lips down to sunoo's tip. he hisses, cradling your face as you lick a long stripe up his shaft.
you take nearly all of sunoo on your first pass down, lips stretched around his girth, more saliva building up in your mouth. you swirl your tongue as you come back up and sunoo curses loudly.
a clatter sounding suspiciously like a belt hitting the flour resounds from behind you but you focus on the task at hand. you bob your head up and down in a steady rhythm, pussy clenching down around nothing as you listen to the sound of sunoo's moans, reverberating deep in his chest.
"fuck, you're so good," sunoo praises, eyes focused on you. you peer up at him through your lashes and sunoo's eyes roll into the back of his head.
"ah!" he moans out as your teeth graze ever so slightly around him.
a sound between a gasp and a whine escapes you as you feel your scalp sting, your lips abruptly pulled off of sunoo's aching cock. you reach up, feeling sunoo's hand tangled in your hair. he's looking at you, pupils blown wide. sunoo pulls your head back even farther. you let out a strangled moan.
"face him," sunoo commands, turning to jake behind you. you finally allow yourself too look and you're met with jake, his own dick in his fist, pumping languidly as he watches the two of you.
"take off your pants then get on my lap," sunoo continues. you obey, standing on shaky legs. you shimmy out of your pants and underwear, kicking them to the side. sunoo's hands find their way to your hips as you face jake, the younger pulling you back down.
you feel sunoo's stiffness between your legs, the head of his cock rubbing lightly against your folds.
"put it in," sunoo whispers, planting a brief kiss on your shoulder. you reach down, aligning sunoo with your aching hole. you ease yourself over him, mouth falling open as he easily slips inside you.
sunoo leans back against the couch, hands still firm on your hips.
"well?" jake speaks up all of a sudden.
"ride him."
you plant your feet on the ground beneath you, hands clutching at sunoo's arms that are holding you from behind. you bite your lip, eyebrows creased in concentration as you start to move on sunoo's cock.
you keep your gaze on jake as he speeds up on his own dick, eyes hungrily taking in the obscene view in front of him. your tits bounce about beneath your tight shirt and to say that you looked absolutely debauched would be an understatement.
your heart quickens when you see jake rise from his seat, discarding of his own bottoms before making his way towards you. his cock is stiff, the tip an angry red and leaking precum. your mouth waters as jake gets closer.
"since you want it all," jake begins, a large hand grasping at your chin. "i'm sure you have no problem multitasking."
jake pushes the head of his cock to your lips and you still momentarily on sunoo. you let jake push his length into your warm mouth, flinching when you feel him reach the back of your throat.
"fuck, yeah," jake breathes. "you really are a cockhungry slut."
you whine in protest but you're cut off by sunoo landing a hard smack on your ass from behind you.
"keep moving," sunoo says through gritted teeth, his hold on your hips tightening as he maneuvers you over his dick.
you feel tears prickle at your eyes as jake takes ahold of your hair. he starts to fuck your mouth, shaking his head in disappointment.
"guess you can't take two at the same time, after all," jake comments, voice tinged with annoyance.
you start to grind down on sunoo, focusing on letting him reach deep inside you. a muffled sob escapes you as you feel sunoo hit that spot within your walls and he, in turn, groans as he feels you clench around him.
your head is spinning, with jake filling up your mouth and sunoo sheathed fully in you. your whole body seems to ignite, the feeling of having jake and sunoo at the same time nearly overwhelming you.
jake pulls you off of him, his fist moving furiously over the length of his cock. you sniffle, the tears now cascading down your cheeks. you look up pleadingly at jake while your hips rut furiously, trying to reach your own orgasm.
"open," jake commands, voice gruff with effort. you obey, letting your tongue hang out. you're panting, too, your fingers reaching down to circle around your clit while you squirm and swivel on sunoo.
"god, you're like a dumb puppy begging for cum," jake comments with a snicker, hand returning around your chin as he holds you in place.
"make him cum or i'm not giving it to you," jake says, hand stopping around his shaft.
you whine pathetically, speeding up even more on sunoo's lap.
"shit," sunoo curses behind you. "yeah, just like that, oh fuck!"
you feel sunoo twitch inside you, finishing and painting your walls with his cum. you squeeze your eyes shut, fingers pressing down desperately on your clit while you grind down on sunoo's sensitive cock. you hear him protest but you ignore it in lieu of your own release.
"that's right. good girl," jake coos. "come on, sweetheart, cum with me."
with your tongue still out, you sob as your body seizes up, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. you feel warm spurts of cum land over your face as jake finishes shortly after, a satisfied groan leaving you as you taste jake in your mouth.
you crack an eye open, the other partially covered in jake's spunk. everything is silent for a moment as the two men catch their breath. you carefully dab away at your face with the back of your hand, the sting in the back of your throat and between your legs finally catching up with you.
"________," sunoo says weakly. "please get off. my dick can't take another second of you clenching around it."
you giggle tiredly, letting jake help you pull off sunoo.
jake leans in to kiss your cheek. "that was so hot."
"yeah, yeah," you say, rolling your eyes playfully. "let's get out of here before someone comes in and turns this into a foursome."
---
"this can't be fucking real," heeseung mutters under his breath as he rewinds the video on his phone screen. the home surveillance app is pulled up, showing him the footage from the last twenty-four hours.
the audio is nonexistent but the image is clear as day: you bouncing on sunoo's cock while jake jerks off right across from you.
"this girl..." heeseung says before laughing silently to himself.
"what girl?"
heeseung turns away from his phone to see sunghoon entering the kitchen. his neck glistens with sweat, evidence that he'd just come up from the den where the gym equipment are.
heeseung shuts his phone down.
"you'll meet her soon enough."
767 notes · View notes
lucyrose191 · 7 months
Note
Hi!!! I loved A Shared History so much!! Would you consider writing a prequel of how Sebastian and Reader got together and/or a sequel of their lives after retirement? I love you so much!
A SHARED HISTORY: AFTER RETIREMENT |S.VETTEL
Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x wife!driver!reader
Summary; Sebastian and Y/N try to navigate their new life after retiring from formula one. The world is dying to know what their favourite couple is up to but the next season has already started with no appearance from the Vettels.
No Warnings. Quite long.
F1 Master List , Part 1 , Part 3
Tumblr media
February 2023
It had been 3 months since saying goodbye to the very thing that Y/N lived for, racing had been all she had ever known and leaving it behind had felt like she had left part of herself on the track.
Her decision had been rash, she was still at the height of her career when she walked away. Y/N still felt like she had so much more to give to the sport and so much more to achieve.
Sebastian had embraced this new life he had chosen, he was handling the separation much better than her. There were so many things he had been able to do; there was now a designated area on their land for him to grow all of the crops he desired and he was loving it, he had always had a green thumb and now he had the free time to experiment.
The difference between their circumstances was that Sebastian had been ready to retire, he had lost his spark and found himself having more love for things outside of motorsport but Y/N had still been winning, she was still coming home with a trophy ever other week and was still revelling in the thrill of the high speed battles and being showered in champagne.
But when Sebastian had approached her that one afternoon with an apprehensive look on his face and told her that he was thinking about retiring it felt like the world has stopped spinning for just a moment, a heavy feeling had settled in her chest as he continued to speak.
I just think it’s time for me to say goodbye to the car, it doesn’t give me the thrill that it used to.
There are so many other things that I find myself enjoying more.
It seems selfish of me to stay when I’m not enjoying it, if I stay then I’m denying younger drivers the opportunity to reach their dreams
She remembers the conversation like it was yesterday and not over a year ago, she remembers the million thoughts running through her head all at the same time. She simply stared at the blanket over her lap as he continued to speak, looking at her helplessly as he waited for her to say something, anything to let him know what she was thinking.
But despite all the thoughts running through her head, her mind could only focus on one.
How could she drive without Sebastian there with her?
She had only ever drove in formula one with Sebastian Vettel on the track with her, that’s where met, where they became friends, where they fell in love.
Y/N couldn’t imagine driving without Seb and the more she thought about it over the next few days, few weeks. She didn’t want to drive without Seb.
It was a quick decision, she’d admit that but Y/N had always been impulsive.
She had been watching Britta set up for Seb to make his video that announced his retirement when she blurted out the words nearly sending both of them and herself into cardiac arrest.
I’m retiring with you.
Her words were heavy and had hung thickly in the air as Seb and Britta simply stared at her, not believing what had just left her mouth, quite frankly she wasn’t sure she had believed it either.
But hearing the words aloud she knew it was the right thing, she was six world titles in and at the height of her career but she’d have to say goodbye eventually and why not go out on a high?
She hasn’t told Sebastian about the empty feeling in her chest, a feeling that felt so close to regret, she knew it would only make him feel guilty knowing that it was because of him, she had retired because of him.
What could he do anyways? It was done, she had made her decision and it was too late to take it back now. The 2023 season started in just a few weeks and George Russell was now in her seat, she wasn’t bitter about it because he deserved it, she was maybe just a bit envious.
Tumblr media
May 2023
Y/N groaned as she rested her head against the toilet seat, the nauseating feeling in her stomach remained despite throwing her guts up. The feeling of Sebastian’s hand gently rubbing up and down her back didn’t help the sickness subside either.
"Are you feeling any better?" The German asked his wife so gently, as if fearing if he spoke any other way it would cause her to throw up again.
Y/N merely grunted which have him the answer he needed, he was getting worried, in all the years he had known her he could count the number of times she’d been sick on one hand and yet here she was for the fourth day in a row hunched over the toilet.
"How can I help you?" He asked desperately, hating to see her so weak.
Y/N’s eyes fluttered as she felt the energy drain from her body. "Can I have a hug?" She sluggishly held her arms out towards him, removing her head from its resting positing on the loo only for it to roll into her shoulder. All she wanted right now was comfort.
Sebastian smiled at his wife and lowered hs body to sit on the floor, spreading his legs and holding out his arms to which she immediately crawled into them, curling her body into his and resting her body against his chest, sighing in relief from the immediate comfort she got. Seb wrapped his arms around her and simply held her, he didn’t say anything knowing that his actions were simply enough, if all she needed was a hug then he’d happily provide that for her. Although he was definitely calling the doctor later.
A couple of days later
Sebastian and Y/N walked through the front door of their home, Seb had the biggest smile imaginable on his face due to the news they had just received. Y/N wished she could share the excitement but it was a bit hard when the news was the reason behind the fact she couldn’t even look at food without wanted to throw up all over the place.
Seb looked over to her and seemed to finally noticed the lack of happiness in her expression because for the first time since leaving the doctors his smile finally dropped. "Are you okay, liebe? I thought you wanted this?"
Y/N sighed as she lowered her body into the couch. "I do want this, Seb, I promise. This was our plan after retirement, to start a family. It’s just hard to smile when I feel like my organs are moving around inside of me," she explained, not wanting him to feel like she didn’t want this baby of theirs, she did want it.
They had spoken over the years and had agreed that they wouldn’t have children until Y/N gave up racing because she didn’t want to have to take a break for two years and then come back, they also didn’t to be absent parents.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Sebastian asked, he was feeling really useless having to watch his wife swallow the urge to throw up at the sight of anything and everything as a result of their new found pregnancy.
"A cuppa would be nice," Y/N smiled sweetly at him as she settled herself under a blanket, she looked rough, she knew she did but looking into Seb’s eyes she saw nothing but love for her and the child she was giving him and although she had a million other reasons as to why he was the one for her, in this moment it reminded her just why she married him.
This man had hugged and kissed her without hesitation whilst she was all sweaty at the end of a race and now when she looked like she’d been hit by a bus he still looked at her like he had never seen anything more beautiful.
There were still a million thoughts and worries running through her mind, that lost feeling was still in her gut but she knew that with Sebastian by her side she’d be able to figure everything out, maybe not now but eventually they would be fine.
July 2023
Tumblr media
"And there is your baby," the nurse turned the screen so that Y/N and Seb could see the black and white image of their growing baby. It was already so much bigger than from their last appointment, time was flying so quickly for the pair of them and it was frightening.
Seb had gone to England to see the British Grand Prix and do a small interview with the Sky Grid Kids leaving Y/N in their Switzerland home. He had asked her multiple times to go with him because he didn’t want to leave her alone but she had denied every time.
They were eleven races down in the 2023 season she hasn’t watched a single race, not in person or on the tv. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it, whilst she had many things to occupy her mind with now that they had a baby on the way such as decorating a nursery, building furniture and baby shopping, she was scared of watching a race because she didn’t know how it would make her feel.
She was scared that watching a race would truly make her regret her decision to retire and that was something she didn’t want to feel so whenever Sebastian sat down on a Sunday and turned on the tv, Y/N would get up and go to another room, what she didn’t see was the defeated look on Seb’s face every time she walked out.
Y/N thought she was being subtle but Sebastian always caught the lost, empty looks on her face as she stared out the window. He caught the fake smiles she’d give him when she tried to pretend she was okay and it was breaking him. He wanted his wife back, the one that was filled with energy and humour, it was defeating to see this shadow of a woman in front of him.
He hoped that he could persuade he’d to attend a race with him before the season finished and their child was born because he knew that it wasn’t the actual racing she missed, it was the sport and the atmosphere. Y/N just didn’t know right now that she hadn’t lost that when she chose to retire.
"Are you wanting to find out the gender?" The nurse asked, looking between Y/N and Seb.
Sebastian looked at Y/N with a raised brow to which she nodded causing him to burst into a large smile before turning to the nurse. "We’d love to know."
The nurse looked back at the screen for a moment just to be sure before looking at the couple with a kind smile. "Well then, congratulations you’re having a boy."
Sebastian looked at Y/N in amazement and soothed a hand over her hair, he loved the care free smile of pure delight that was taking over he face. Whilst he himself had been hoping for a girl, she had wanted a boy and as long as she was happy Seb couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed in the slightest, he was looking forward to having a mini him.
"Oh, thank god. I don’t think I could’ve handled a girl," Y/N laughed, boys were so much easier in her opinion. She had met so many babies in her life and girls were just crazy.
The nurse and Seb both laughed at her words before the nurse asked "I know you suffered quite a lot with morning sickness, has it gotten any better since the last time I saw you?"
Y/N nodded "Way better, now that I’m in my second trimester it’s pretty much disappeared."
Too right it had, Seb thought. As soon as her second trimester hit his wife had turned into a different woman. She was much happier in everything she did and it made him wonder if some of her negative feelings were due to her hormones, he would never ask her though.
What he had noticed though was that as her morning sickness vanished, it had been replaced with something entirely different. Over the last few weeks his wife had turned into- well, a horn dog to put it lightly.
The only way Seb could think of to describe it was that Y/N had turned into a sex maniac, she wanted it all the time and he would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the new side of her but he was worried he couldn't keep up. What he will say is that he didn't think he would be doing this much cardio after retiring.
August 2023
"Are you okay, liebe?" Sebastian asked in a worried tone, taking notice of the grimace on his wife’s face. The bread dough was long forgotten on the kitchen counter as he turned all of his attention onto her.
"Your son is using my ribs as a football," Y/N sighed, rubbing the side of her stomach where she had felt the kick. She was six months along now and whilst the sickness has gone she was now slowly entering the stage where everything was getting uncomfortable.
Her bump wasn’t overly huge but it was now hardening and it was very clear that she was pregnant, not that anyone outside of their family and the doctors knew.
Seb tried not to show his amusement at her words, he hasn’t failed to notice that whenever the baby did something that she wasn’t overly fond of, their son suddenly became his son.
He never commented on the habit she had picked up because she was going through so much to give him the life he had always wanted. Obviously, she had wanted a family too but for Sebastian it had been his dream, he had always been a family man and now- to have his own, it was still hard for him to believe at times but what he did know was that watching his wife, who he had loved for years, grow their child had only made him fall in love with her more and so he would happily take the blame for the brunt kicks their son forced into her ribs or bladder.
He walked closer to where she was sitting on a bar stool and placed both his hands on the sides of her stomach, caressing it gently, before leaning down and placing a firm kiss over her shirt. He laughed when he felt a force being returned from the inside of her stomach, it felt like a slight nudge, like when Y/N would press her index finger against his lips to shush him whenever he was sprouting anything silly.
"He’s partying in there," Seb looked at her with his cheeky smile.
Y/N scoffed "He’s got two racing drivers for parents, he’s bound to not want to sit still. Honestly, i dont know what we were thinking."
Sebastian nodded "You’ve got a point, this has never happened before has it? God, our son’s going to be all over the place with racing genes coming from both sides. We’re going to have quite the handful."
Y/N hummed in agreement "It’ll be worth it though, I’m glad we retired now, I’m happy with where we are." Over the past few weeks she had found that the gap in her heart had slowly shrunken and barely did she worry about the decision she made, her and Seb were starting a new life together and the love she already had for their unborn son made it clear that she had made the right choice.
September 2023
It was silent between the pair of them as Y/N folded some of Seb’s clothes on the bed, helping him pack his suitcase for his trip to Japan. The approaching Grand Prix had always had a special place in Sebastian’s heart and he had always planned on attending this one.
"You know, you could always come with me," Seb hesitantly broke the silence.
Y/N was seven months pregnant now, all their baby had to do now was grow. Soon, it wouldn’t be safe for her to fly so now was really his last chance to encourage her to attend a Grand Prix. That and he really did not feel comfortable leaving her home alone.
Just as she was about to protest, Seb started speaking again. "Mick will be there, he’s been asking a lot about you and the baby. He said he misses you."
It was a poor move on his part, he’s well aware of the soft spot his wife had for the young German. He hasn’t lied, Mick had been asking about Y/N a lot, he’d been thrilled at learning he’d become an Uncle and had hoped that he’d have the time to fly out to Switzerland to visit but he hasn’t.
Every Grand Prix that Seb had attended since they had found out they were expecting he had been forced to watch Mick’s glances over his shoulder wondering if Y/N was going to appear, he had actually been forced to watch every driver do that, albeit none of the other driver’s knew of the impending Vettel baby.
"Fine, I’ll come," Y/N relented and for a moment her words hadn’t clicked but then Seb froze and looked at her in disbelief.
"Seriously?" He asked, praying she wasn’t pulling his leg.
Y/N nodded. "You’re packing my bag though," she told him.
"Done. Great." Seb smiled widely, still in disbelief that she’d agreed but nonetheless he turned and walked into their closet to get her suitcase to pack it before she had a chance to change her mind.
A couple of days later.
"So, how’s the season gone so far, what have I missed?" Y/N asked Seb from her position on the hotel bed, she should’ve probably asked this question sooner rather than an hour before they left to the track for the race. Seb had went to the qualifying sessions yesterday but she had chosen to stay behind, no one knew that she had been here for the weekend or that she would be ah the track today.
Seb sighed "Well, at the beginning of the season RedBull was dominating with Fernando getting a few podiums but then it was Max dominating and everyone else pretty much a lap behind but now the McLarens have seriously improved with their upgrades and are closer than anyone else even though there’s still a large gap."
Y/N was glad that RedBull was winning again, they hadn’t really since her and Seb left the team in 2014 but now they were back and better than ever. "What about the Mercedes?" She asked, wondering how her team of six years were doing without her, she had won five of her titles with that team.
Seb grimaced at her question. "Not very good if I’m being honest."
"What!?" Y/N looked at him shocked. "How?"
"There car hasn’t been as good as it could be and they aren’t used to not winning so there’s been a bit of tension within the team, especially with Lewis. He said some things he probably shouldn’t have and the media isn’t really helping. Mick told me that there’s a lot of people saying that it’s not a coincidence that you’re not there and now they’re not winning."
"I definitely did not miss the media since I’ve been away from the track," Y/N said.
"Well, I just run away from them," Seb said when a cheeky smile.
Y/N looked at him deadpanned "I’m seven months pregnant, I can hardly run with this stomach in the way."
"We’ll speed walk," Sebastian shrugged, trying not to laugh as his wife rolled her eyes at him.
Suzuka circuit
"This was not a good idea! Why did you have to pick the lowest possible car? You’re going to have to help me out." Y/N huffed, the car was so low to the ground and the seats were so deep that there was no way for her to get out because her stomach was in the way.
Sebastian burst into high pitched chuckles as he saw her the and move forward in her seat, he had already been spotted and could see a few cameras waiting near the entrance for him but he was sure they had no idea that Y/N was in the passenger seat.
Still chuckling, he got out of the car and worked his way round to the other side, ignoring the cameras that were recording him. He opened the passenger door and tried to bite down his laughter when he met Y/N’s unimpressed face, he held out his hands for her to take and pulled her up and out of the car.
As soon as she stepped out they both heard the gasps and murmuring from fans and media workers, not just at the sight of Y/N but also the baby bump she had. "You ready?" Seb whispered.
Y/N took a deep breath and nodded "Ready." She told him.
Sebastian didn’t let go of her hand once as they made their way towards the entrance, they ignored the cameras and questions but smiled politely and couldn’t help but laugh at some of the excited fans that had spotted them.
As soon as they got into the paddock it was crazy, every garage they walked past, they were greeted and spoke to by mechanics and engineers that were over the moon the two were here.
Sebastian led the way to the RedBull garage and as soon as they stepped inside they were crowded, bombarded with ‘congratulations’ and other sweet messages before eventually people got back to their jobs.
Christian Horner soon found them and embraced them with a welcoming smile, his two prodigies that had pretty much up started RedBull in formula one. "It’s good to see you, Seb," he said before turning to Y/N "And you, it’s good to have you back, finally."
Y/N was feeling all sorts of happiness being back at the track and she was glad she came, or glad that Seb had persuaded her to come. "It’s good to be back," she replied.
"Congratulations on the baby, I’m really happy for you both. God, Seb, you’ve kept this under wraps," Christian looked between the two in disbelief.
"We’ve enjoyed the privacy and going through it without the interruptions," Seb said for the pair of them and Christian understood, it was easier without the extra stress.
"Hey! Heard there was a baby Vettel in the garage!" Daniel barged into the place, loud and drawing attention to himself as usual.
Y/N smiled as he wrapped her into a bear hug before placing his hands on her stomach "my god, they weren’t joking. Congratulations guys!"
"Thanks Daniel," Y/N laughed.
"I didn’t know Seb had it in him to procreate"
Sebastian scoffed as everyone around them laughed at his expense. "It didn’t take long," he smirked as everyone laughed more. Y/N rolled her eyes at his witty response.
"It’s good to have you back, it’s like you fell off the face of the Earth! Seb kept saying you were doing good and that you were fine but i didn’t believe him, I was worried. Turns out he was right, you’ve been having lots of fun," Daniel eyed her baby bump with an amused smirk.
Y/N lightly slapped his arm at his words, she truly hadn’t expected anything different from Daniel.
"So, who’re you supporting? Me?" He asked.
Y/N shook her head "Honestly, I’m just here to get out of the house, I haven’t been watching so i dont know what the cars are like but I heard Lando was doing good which I’m looking forward to seeing."
Daniel looked at her offended "I see how it is, he was always your favourite."
"That’s not true!" Y/N laughed, "Kimi was my favourite but he left and then I hated everyone," she joked.
"You know I thought it wasn’t a coincidence that you left only a year after! I have Kimi to blame then," Daniel replied.
"Anyways, are you happy to be back in the car?" Y/N asked.
Daniel nodded "Very, the break was nice but the car is where I belong."
"Well, I’m glad your back at it," she told him before he left back to AlphaTauri to get prepped.
Y/N turned to Seb who was watching her with a smile, happy that she was happy. "Can we go to the Mercedes garage for a bit before the race?"
"Of course, whatever you want," Seb replied, they both waved goodbye to the team before leaving and heading two garages down to the Mercedes garage.
It seemed that the team had been waiting for her because as soon as she stepped in the mechanics all cheered for her, the atmosphere buzzing as the team was happy to have their star driver back in the garage.
Y/N saw Lewis was already in his car and walked over, she crouched down even though it was a struggle but she braced herself on the side of his car, he slid his visor up so he could look her in the eyes.
She reached her hand inside and grabbed his "Are you doing good?" She asked.
Lewis nodded "It’s been a rough season so far but we’re getting better, it’s good to have you here." His voice was muffled under his helmet.
"Yeah? I’m glad you’re doing good, how’s George as a teammate?" She asked, looking at him softly.
"He’s great. Not as good as you of course but he’s a great driver, you made the right call choosing him." Lewis said.
Y/N smiled "That’s good, I’m glad I didn’t sabotage you."
"No, no. Might need some of your good luck though," Lewis eyes crinkled to show he was smiling inside his helmet.
"I’ll try my best," She told him before letting go of his hand and using his car to stand back up. "Have a good race, I’ll be cheering you on."
She turned and found Seb a short walk away, talking to Mick although his eyes were trained on her, making sure she was okay and didn’t need any help. She pointed over to where Toto was sitting in front of a few screens to show him where she was going and he nodded.
She walked up behind her old boss and placed her hands on his shoulders causing him to jump, he looked over his shoulder and once he saw it was her he smiled and removed his headphones. "Y/N! It’s good to see you," he turned around in his seat and wrapped one of his arms around her in greeting.
"It’s good to see you as well," Y/N told him. "How’s everything?"
"It’s okay, could be better but could certainly be worse," Toto replied.
"I heard things hadn’t been too great but I’m glad to know they’re improving," She said.
"Barely," Toto scoffed.
"Well, improvement is still improvement," she said.
"I guess it is, congratulations on the pregnancy by the way!" He nodded towards her bump.
"Thank you," She said, brushing a hand over her stomach. "I don’t want to distract you but I’ll be around"
Toto nodded at her words before turning back to the monitors in front of him.
She was getting a bit tired now and made her way over to Seb and Mick who were still conversing, Seb wrapped his arm around her waist when he felt her at his side but continued his talk.
Mick soon turned to her, glancing at her stomach before looking back up at her. "It’s good to see you again, Y/N. Im glad you finally made time for me" he teased.
Y/N shrugged "How does the saying go? Always save the best for last."
Mick smiled and nodded "How long until my nephew’s here?" He asked quietly, knowing that only family knew the gender.
"Two months, they can’t go by quick enough," Y/N replied, leaning her head on Sebastian’s shoulder as she felt all of the socialising start to take a toll on her body. The race hadn’t even started yet.
"Where are you two watching the race?" Mick asked.
Y/N shrugged and looked at Seb.
"We can watch from here?" He proposed.
"I don’t care as long as I can sit down," she replied honestly and Seb nodded before Mick turned and showed them where they could go and sit down.
Y/N sighed as she felt the pressure disappear from her feet the moment she sat down. "You okay, liebe?" Seb asked from beside her.
She nodded "Yeah, I’m just tired," she told him.
"Are you glad you came?" He asked, knowing she had been resigned about it.
Y/N hummed "Yeah, I needed this. Thank you for persuading me to come. I know I’ve been a pain lately."
Sebastian soothed his hand over the side of her face "Don’t worry about it, liebe. I’m just glad you’re okay."
"I love you," Y/N told him.
"Ich liebe dich auch," Seb replied before he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips.
2 months later
Y/N looked down at her son, who was resting against her chest, in awe. She could not believe the life she was living now.
He was utterly perfect, he looked exactly like his father and she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad about it.
Y/N looked up at her husband who stood beside the hospital bed, his hand was resting over their son’s blonde curls but he was looking at her like she was the most gorgeous sight he had witnessed, even with her messy hair and sweaty face from giving birth. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple and sighed. "I love you so much," he whispered.
"I love you more," She replied.
Seeing the sparkle in Sebastian’s eyes as he looked between her and their son, his family, she knew she had made the right decision in retiring.
The baby in her arms was everything to her, so much more than racing could’ve ever been and it was all thanks to Seb.
She couldn’t have done it without him.
1K notes · View notes
tac-bat · 10 months
Text
You know what I love? I love that the valley twins aren’t carbon copies from each other!!!
and you might be wondering, well how exactly? I’ll show you!!!!! (Because I’ve spent way to much time staring at them, also this post is very long) (and i use old concept art names to refer to them as such, its just what i'm used to, they aren't cannon)
Body types
Tumblr media
different body types! Sah (spike hair) has more wide shoulders than Mekh (flat hair). And because of this, Sah has the most slay snatched waist I’ve ever seen JEBEJVDHE even mekh's waist isint as snatched
Prosthetic's
Tumblr media Tumblr media
If you don’t already know (and I don’t blame you) the twins have prosthetic arms on where their eyes are missing. (They’re practically invisible in their cutscene, and even their pin doesn’t have them, I hate it.) anyways they both have different patterns!
Mekh’s, is more detailed, has a shoulder decoration and generally more to it.
And Sahs’ is more simple, it gets the job done. I feel like from the look on their prosthetic's alone you can get an idea of their tastes :3
Another quick think but it also seems Mekh’s uniform is sleeveless on the side of where their prosthetic is! Sah has both of their sleeves. I wonder why?
Gloves
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Even their gloves are different! Sah’s glove (left) for their prosthetic is thumbless, the other fingerless. When both of Mekh’s (left) gloves are fingerless!
A detail i'm not sure off, but it also seems like the gloves on both twins prosthetic's are bunched up more compare to the gloves on their live arms.
Sticks
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I noticed this on my recent eden trip that the sticks the twins hold when you complete the constellation are different too!! Mekh's stick on the ends have more width, and Sah’s is more consistent with width. Which is just— so fucking cool!! They have their own sticks!!!!! They’re not just copy and paste!!!!!!!!
Stances
Tumblr media
this isint leaked, this was a wip from their orbit gift animation by Ari Flesch from his artstation account (who made the animation) which i've linked.
Anyways different stances!!! Mekh has their feet together when Sah doesn't! You can also see what I mean about the ends of their sticks having different width's much clearer!!!
Sah’s Cracked Mask
Tumblr media
My fav detail is Sah’s mask (also not in the pin and invisible in cutscenes), they have a crack over their eye when Mekh doesn’t! This small detail has gave me so many evil ideas on how they got it and it makes me wonder HOW it even happened. :3
Cutscene Details
OH BOY CUTSCENE TIME, HERE'S THINGS IVE NOTICED!!
Sah seems to hold their paddle backwards when Mekh doesn’t. But Sah still ends up in the same position as Mekh despite that! (maybe to one up, who knows) But that show's that even here, their animations weren't just copy pasted, there's DIFFERENCES!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mekh is faster than Sah, and even shows Mekh being the first to leap up and land when approaching the player, when Sah is just starting to land in the 2nd image. This makes the timing of it intentional!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
okay i think thats it thats all i can remember atm!! Ofc there’s so much more, but this post is more focused on the details that can be missed by normal folks. So I thought I share the ones that might be interesting to see that you might’ve not known about.
but yes, thank you to the folks of tgc in charge of their character design's and animation's for not giving the twins the copy paste treatment. Thank you for making them have their own quirks, their own personalities, and their own differences!!!!
Thank you for making them their own person!
537 notes · View notes
nervousgardenerkid · 9 months
Text
So anxious
a/n: LMAO hey yall this is my first fic after a LONG time and it's from across the spiderverse😭i can't help it i love that movie sm. ANYWAYS i was listening to so anxious by ginuwine and i got this idea sjjsisj i hope you all enjoy it bc it was so fun to write! happy reading and credit to the gif owner!! <3
warnings: none really, some cursing ofc, hobie lowkey teasing you, not proofread (bc that's a warning itself), and me not knowing how to write with a british accent in mind (i'm so sorry)
this fic doesn't have any gender specific pronouns or any specific racial qualities so it's free for EVERYONE to read! <3
Tumblr media
You were staring. You knew you were staring too, but how could you not? Your eyes fell onto Hobie’s hand as he did god knows what with the technology that was spread out in front of his desk. Your eyes trailed up his toned arms, blushing you remember how easily he could lift you up no matter what.
“You're staring again, love.” his voice broke you out of your thoughts, your eyes flicking over his face.
God, he's so pretty. Your heartbeat speeds up when the sun shines on him just right. The golden light reflecting off of his piercings nearly blinded you but not in the same way his beauty was. Your eyes fall to his sharp jawline, up to his lips as they sit in a small frown. God his lips. Heat flows throughout your body as you imagine his lips pressed against yours, leaving gentle (and not-so-gentle) kisses all over your face. Before you have time to admire the rest of him he turns to you, a smirk replacing the frown that was on his lips.
“I got something on my face? Why you staring so much?”
A familiar warm feeling falls over your cheeks as you reluctantly tear your eyes off of him and nervously look down at your hands.
“Nah, Nah,”
His hand reaches out and gently grabs your chin, making you look at him again.
“Don't go acting all shy now. Why you staring at me so hard, hm?”
A soft whine leaves your lips as you hide behind your hands, peeking at him from the spaces between your fingers. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and you feel like you can't breathe with the way he's staring at you. As if on instinct you shrug your shoulders, clearing your throat nervously as you calm your nerves.
“You're a shit liar,” he chuckles. He gently grabs your wrists, prying your hands away from your face, as your eyes look everywhere except at him.
“What, you not gonna stare anymore?”
“Hobie…” you whine throwing your head back with a giggle.
“That's my name. Don't wear it out now, yeah?”
Finally, your eyes land back on him and his beautiful face.
“Ah, there you are,” he says softly as he brushes a piece of hair out of your face.
You feel yourself getting lost in his facial features again before he snaps his fingers.
“Oi, don't go off in your own little world now. What's going on with you?”
A smile stretches across your lips.
“You're pretty,” you say quietly, almost as if you've never told him this before.
He smiles at you, his hands gently gripping your waist as he brings you close to him.
“Yeah?” he asks, a teasing tone lacing his deep voice.
You nod your head as your hands rest on his cheeks, gently caressing the skin.
“Should see yourself then. A real piece of art is what you are.”
Your giggles fill the room making him smile. He could listen to you laugh all day and never get sick of it.
“‘M serious Hobie!”
His brows furrow.
“Yeah, I am too. ‘M not one for labels but you're easily the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Besides myself of course.”
Your laugh fills his ears once more and he swears he can feel his heart skip a couple of beats, he's not sure how he's still alive right now. He places a kiss against your lips, smiling into the kiss when he feels you sigh happily and wrap your arms around him.
He pulls away looking at you with hooded eyes and gives you one more peck before he returns to the broken device that’s sitting in front of him.
“Just keep admiring me for a while, ‘m almost done here, love.”
You sigh happily, relaxing on the couch as your eyes scan over him once again. You're staring again. You know it, Hobie knows it too but he doesn't mind.
He never even had a problem with it in the first place.
530 notes · View notes
Note
hiii are you by chance writing a part 3 for anger?! you write so well for 2007 and it makes me so happy because no one write for them anymore 😭
BUT IF YOU ARE IM SUPER EXCITED FOR WHAT YOULL COME UP WITH and there’s just so much suspense… CLIFFHANGER😹💋
Anger: part 3 (18+) (Angst)
2007!Raphael x reader x 2007!Leonardo
Tumblr media
Part 1 Part 2 / Leonardo's Ending Raphael’s Ending
-----------
A/N: Thank you so much!💚 I’m so happy that you like it💕 I’ve been wanting to make a part 3 for sooo long, but I’ve had no idea how to finish it. I’ve now decided to make two different endings; one for Raph and one for Leo, because I can’t choose one myself, so I don’t expect anybody else to be able to pick😂 Anyway, Raph and Leo’s endings will probably first be posted on the other side of Christmas.
------------
After the events on your roof, you, Raph and Leo are shaken. You need time to think, and Leo and Raph try to come to terms.
Warnings: Feelings of betrayal, feelings of guilt, emotions of sadness and regret, memories of sex. Spelling
------------
Raph ran as fast as he could, getting him as far as his feet could get him. He leaped across roofs, jumping over alleys, fighting the prickling feeling in his eyes. His mind was spinning, his thoughts in a chaotic mess as he remembered the look in Leo’s eyes, and fear upon your face. It hurt him to think of it. How angry he was. How he had wanted to hurt Leo. The words he had said to him. All of it came together and made his chest and stomach hurt. He felt nauseous and lightheaded. He had hurt Leo, his own brother. And he had hurt you, the girl he loved, the girl he had spent so much time dreaming about. He had fucked up.
Caught up in his running thoughts, Raph didn’t notice the bump on the roof, before stumbling his foot against it. He fell to the roof’s surface with a veil of agony, landing on his side, his arm slamming against the hard surface underneath him, causing a piercing pain to erupt through his elbow. The fall broke the barrier he had fought to keep up, finally letting a sob he had held back slip out. After the first came out, the rest came like water bursting through an open dam. Tears fell down his face as he slammed his fist against the roof, sadness and anger flowing through his every being, with no clear way to direct them at.
Ignoring the pain coursing through his foot and arm, Raphael stood up, before hurrying in the only direction he could think of. Home. Even with all the anger and confusion that stormed through his body, Raph just wanted to go home.
The silence Raph had left behind on the roof was heavy. Neither you nor Leo said a word, still shaken from the events that hand just transpired. Your legs shook as you sat down on the roof, your head in your hands as you took in a shaky breath. It was as if the world came crashing down on you. You did not know what to think, and you did not know what to believe. It was as if the world around you was shaking on its own, and you were just being thrown around, unable to stop it.
Leo sat up, breathless, unsure of what to do with himself. What to think… What to say… What to do… He felt heavy and cold, his body shivering and his head slightly spinning. But then he heard you, your rugged breath and the subs that were threatening in your throat. He felt a sudden need to comfort you, just like he had done before he left for South America. Hold you close against him while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But he hesitated, unsure if you would welcome him if he did so. As much as he wanted to comfort you, he could not deny the small pain in his chest. He felt betrayed. But the sight of your tears softened him enough, to the point where he dared sit down beside you.
His throat knotted together when you looked up at him, tears down your cheeks as you sobbed. “I’m sorry, Leo. I thought you were gone”.
“You… you have nothing to be sorry about”, Leo managed to get out of his closing throat. His fists tightening and loosening in his lap, as he tried to calm his own breathing. Though Leo felt betrayed by you, he had to collect himself and remember, you knew nothing. He was the one that stopped writing to you and his own family. He was the one that left you all in the unknown, with no clue about his well being.
But yet, there was one thought that kept pushing its way forward to the front. The words Raph had yelled at him. They taunted him and did exactly as Raph had intended for them to do; make Leo question. Make him unsure about himself and his own abilities. It was a selfish thought, he knew that, but he just had to ask. He just had to know.
“Was- was he better than me?”, Leo asked, not being able to bring his eyes to yours. He tried to swallow the knot in his throat, but it just wouldn’t go away.
You hesitated, not sure what to say. Because in all honesty, you did not know. You did not know if Leo was better than Raph, or if Raph was any better then Leo. They were just so different. Two different personalities. Two different people. Each unique in their own way, they both had hurt you.
But was this really all it was about? Who fucked you the best? Which one of them made you cum and scream the most?
Although Leo never made you scream, he kept you close to the edge, feeling your legs shake as you got close to your high, only to retreat, enjoying your whimpering, before continuing whatever he had been doing. Fingering you while watching you intensely, or eating you out with the skilled tongue of his, before finally, after what felt like heavenly torture, he would fuck you with intens passion, watching your face and whisper sweet nothings while you came around him, pushing him to his own high.
And then there was Raph. Rough and hard, making you cum over and over again, telling you all sorts of dirty things that made you cling around him. Forcing your face down into the bed with your ass high up in the air, he would fuck you with intense speed and strength, making you scream in pleasure.
“I don’t know”, you said, avoiding your gaze when he finally looked at you. It took you a moment before you stood up, your legs shaking to give out under you. Leo hurried up, his hands out in an offering for you to hold onto them. But you stopped him with your hand held out in front of you. At that moment, still feeling overwhelmed, you did not wish to be touched, even if it was just Leo who wanted to help you stand. “I… I need to think”. Those were the last words before you turned, heading back to your fire escape, climbing back down to your apartment.
Leo stood back and watched as you left. It reminded him of that day he told you he had to go to South America. It had made you sad, although not like you were right now. You were honest and told him you didn’t like it, but you did not try to force him to stay. He should just have stayed. He should just have fucking stayed. Had he stayed, then this mess would never had happened to begin with.
Leo stayed on the roof, until he heard you shut your window close. That was his que to leave. Back then, after a long night of deep conversations, tender hands, building you before an earth shattering orgasm, Leo would not leave your fire escape before you closed the window. You in turn would not close your window, before Leo had left your fire escape. It was like couples on the phone with each other, refusing to hang up before the other.
Leo went home, his feet feeling heavy as he walked through the sewer. His head was hurting and this throat was still tightly knotted together. He just wanted to sleep for now, and get some time alone. He just wanted to get home and recharge. But when he walked into the lair, he was far from alone. Donatello and Michelangelo were in the living area, waiting for him to come. Mikey sat on the couch, the television blaring in the background, watching Donnie and Leo in concern. Donnie watched Leo walk in with a stern yet worried expression, his arms crossed as he walked to his oldest brother.
“What the shell is happening, Leo?”, he asked, brows frowning in concern. “Raph just came in with a limb and an injured arm, but he refuses to let me look at it, let alone even talk to me and Mikey! What happened out there?!”
Leo thought for a moment, his eyes locked on the closed door that led to Raphael’s room. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No! He just growled like he usually does and threatened to punch Mikey if he took a step closer!”
“It’s true!”, Mikey said, still seated on the couch. “And I wasn’t even near him!”
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow”, Leo sighed after another moment of thought. “A lot happened out there”.
“What happened?”, Donnie asked, following Leo as he started walking towards his own room. Mikey rose from the couch and followed his two older brothers. “Anything dangerous? Are you injured too? Did you see what happened to Raph?”
“No”, was all Leo said as he placed a hand on his door knob. “Don’t worry about it. It’s between me and Raph. I’ll talk to him tomorrow”. And with those words he slipped into his room, leaving Donnie and Mikey on the other side, sharing looks of confusion and concern.
Leo could not stand the smell in his own room. Once it had been so pleasant, with soft scents of you and him. But now it was violent, attacking his nose with you and Raph. He could almost see it in front of him. You and his brother, on his bed, doing it in ways Leo never had thought of doing it to you. It made him sad, tired, angry… It was too much for Leo at that moment. He therefore waited for his two youngest brothers to leave for bed, before he went to the living area, so he could use the couch as a bed for the night.
He covered himself with a blanket and stared at the pipes on the ceiling above. His thoughts went straight to you, just like they had done while the two of you were together. Just like they had done while he was in South America. God, why did he stop writing? He thought about you every night and every day, but he still decided to stop writing. Was it because he had been so sure that he had to stay in the jungle, to save those poor women and children, who’s lives would have been cut short if he didn’t? And staying in the jungle meant letting go of you? Yeah, that must have been why. His wish to be a hero had cost him the person he loved the most; you.
Leo turned onto his side, as he wondered what would have happened if he never had stopped writing. Would he had returned after a year, just like had promised you at first, or would you have waited out for him all two years? You probably would, and he would still have you. He would have you comfortably in his arms, and feel as you slowly drifted to sleep. Your beautiful face next to his, your eyes closed in a peaceful expression, feeling safe with him.
Leo continued to think of your face as he fell asleep. Your beautiful smile, your pretty eyes, and the way your nose would wrinkle whenever he teased you, or your blushing cheeks when he kissed you. How you would bite your lip while watching him train, or how your lips would be slightly agape whenever he would kiss your neck. The look of your face whenever you were close, or how your beautiful face would form when you came for him. Leo missed it. He missed you.
The next morning Leo was the first to wake up. Under normal circumstances, he would meditate and train before eating breakfast, but still feeling tired and drained from the night before, he went straight for breakfast. As the morning unfolded, he watched as his brothers woke up. He and Donnie greeted each other warmly, before Donnie went to clock in with his phone service job. Mikey woke up with a smile, before bringing a full bowl of cereal to the living area, where he ate them in front of the television. Master Splinter told all of his sons good morning, before he went to the dojo to meditate.
Leo watched and waited, until he was sure his family was fully distracted, before he went up the stairs to the second level of the lair, where he made his way to Raphael’s bedroom. Once Leo got to his door, he didn’t knock, nor did he try to walk in. Instead he waited with his back resting against the wall.
Raphael woke up in pain. His foot was still hurting and so was his elbow. He sat up and listened to the sound of his family outside in the living area. Raph did not wish to face them. He didn’t want to have Donnie bug him about his arm, and he didn’t want Mikey to come and try to do whatever he thought was helpful. Much less did he wish to talk to Master Splinter, and even less did he wish to talk to Leonardo. If he even was home. As far as Raphael knew, Leo could have spent the night at your place. After he ran, the two of you could have decided to get back together. Or, that was at least what Raph feared.
Raph went out of bed with a sigh, pain shooting through him the moment his foot touched the ground. He groaned as he started moving towards the door. His goal was to get to the kitchen and get something to eat. A quick grab and go before anyone noticed. Just like the ninja he was trained to be. No one would see him, no one would hear him.
Raph opened his bedroom door and slowly made his way out on the floor that overlooked the floor below.
“Donnie said you hurt your arm”.
Fuck.
Raph looked left of his door, where he found Leo standing. Leaning against the wall, waiting for him to come out. How long had he been there?
“Did I do that?”, Leo asked, his expression stoic, his gaze avoiding Raphael all together.
Raph tugged his arm closer to himself, feeling the pain once more. “None of your business”.
Leo didn’t say anything to that. He knew his brother, and that meant no.
Silence fell between them. None of them moved, none of them said a word, their eyes did not meet. The tension was thick, so thick that Raph could puncture it with his sai and Leo could cut it with his katana. They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, before Leonardo finally broke the silence.
“We have to let her choose”, Leo sighed frustrated, his knuckles tightening around the thin air. “No matter how much it might hurt, we have to respect her decision. It is her choice now”.
Raph tightened his jaw, felt the muscles in his arm tense before staring off into the distance. “You know I’ll still be angry if she chooses you”, he said, feeling the air build up on his chest as a knot formed in his throat.
“I know”, Leo said, still not looking at his brother. Raph felt that familiar feeling of irritation grow. The way Leo avoided his eyes, and the way he kept his breath calm as he spoke. That God damn big brother talk, that had gotten Raph so angry in the first place. “I don’t blame you. I would be angry too if she chose you”. He swallowed as his eyes fell to his feet. “I was angry when… when you told me. Almost blinded. For… for a moment I wanted to hurt you”. He finally looked Raph in the eyes, with an expression he had never seen on Leo’s face before. “Is that how you felt? Even before I left?”
Raph almost forgot how to breathe. His fingers began to feel numb, shaking slightly by the sudden shock. He would cross his arms to form a kind of barrier between him and his big brother. He felt his lip tremble slightly, bitting it on the inside of his mouth to keep it still.
“Yes”, was all Raphael said. It came out like a growl, frustration building further as he fought to keep his breath calm. A pressure formed from behind his eyes, threatening to make his eyes water. No! He would not cry! Especially not in front of Leo. But Leo’s next words almost broke him.
“I’m sorry”, he said with a deep sigh, voice trembling as he spoke, his eyes searching for Raphael’s. “I didn’t know”.
“No”, Raphael pushed out. “You didn’t”.
Silence fell upon them again. They heard Mikey laugh at something on the television, and Donnie telling him to keep it down. This time it was Raphael’s turn to break the silence.
“Did… did she say anything after I left?”
Leo sighed. “She said she needed to think. I don’t blame her. It was kind of a lot. She didn’t even want me to help her”.
Raph nodded and tried to swallow the knot that was building in his throat. “Then we should let her think”.
“Yes, we should do that”, Leo agreed. He pushed away from the wall and turned to his brother one last time before leaving. “Please let Donnie look at your arm. Him and Mikey are very worried. I almost had to run from them last night”.
Raph nodded. “I will”. This made Leo give him a small smile, before he turned to leave, but then Raph started to feel that burning feeling. He had to say something. “Hey, Leo?” The blue clad turtle turned to look at his brother, one brow muscle raised. “Welcome home”.
Leo smiled once more, this time a little bigger. “Thank you”.
167 notes · View notes
azullumi · 1 year
Note
i don't know if this counts as a request or not but i just want to know how do you think thoma, ayato, and tighnari say "i love you" to their s/o without actually saying it? it could be about love languages or anything, you're free to do what you want! i'm just really curious on what you think :) also, i love your writing so so much im in love with it <3
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary — there are many ways to say "i love you" and he has his own ways of saying it.
characters — ayato, tighnari, and thoma (w/ gender neutral reader)
tags — fluff, different love languages; headcanons
word count — 1116
a/n — hooray to the very first request that i have done! please don't hesitate in sending me more requests because ideas are not unlimited inside my head. anyways i hope this was what you wanted anon! ^^ i tried to do the best that i can in executing this idea because god it's hella cute
Tumblr media
“What do you want? I'll get it for you.” — Kamisato Ayato
Gift-giving is definitely his love language. He’s the type of man to always spoil you with gifts, ranging from simple to extravagant ones. Even if you have never asked for those things, he always will and I mean what I mean with always when he has a gift for you daily. It can be a bouquet of flowers from another land or just your favorite ones or it can also be an accessory customized only for you. Nevertheless, he always has something to give you whether small or big.
If you ask him for something, he’ll immediately get it for you. Just mention it and you’ll have it at once on the foot of your doorstep. No cans, no ifs, no buts, it’s always a will. He will always find a way to get it even if it’s at the end of the world as long as it will make you happy.
You told him once how you would like to have the heart of a rainbow, an item that doesn’t exist in the continent of Teyvat nor in other lands and you only made up on the spot to see how he would react. But he… He fell into a deep thought and went: “Alright, however, it might take me a long time as that's the first time I have heard of that.” You couldn’t help but panic and explain that it was just a joke and the item actually doesn’t exist.
He remembers everything about you, especially what you like even if you only have mentioned it once in all of your conversations. You’ll suddenly find him giving you something, an item that you said you would like to have from a conversation that happened 4 months ago, and would apologize for only attaining it just now. It just renders you speechless whenever he does that.
Giving you all that you want is just one of the ways he shows his love for you. He has different means of showering you with affection but gift-giving just tops everything. It’s also one way to tell you that he is willing to do anything and give you anything, anything to make you stay, anything to keep you happy.
Tumblr media
“You mean so much more to me than you think.” — Tighnari
This statement was an explanation for his actions that he has done and the words he has said. Tighnari might have never explicitly said those three meaningful words in a relationship but he finds ways to say it to you in different forms and would show it through his actions also. After all, saying “I love you” without having any form of base just feels so empty for him like promises that aren’t going to be kept. He prefers proving himself through a variety of words and acts.
He doesn’t mind anything as long as it’s you. He doesn’t mind teaching you everything that he knows as a Forest Ranger as long as it's you. He doesn’t mind accompanying you every time you have the urge to go deeper within the forest—he reasons that it is part of his task and he’s also there to look for some things but honestly, he just wants to be there with you. He also sometimes can’t help but overthink that something might happen to you once you go in alone because what if you encounter a dangerous situation and he’s not there. He just wouldn’t be able to rest easily. If ever he wouldn’t be able to accompany you, he’ll send Collei out with you.
He doesn’t mind doing anything as long as it’s for you. However, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have any boundaries that he has set and as long as you respect and understand it, everything is fine. He doesn’t mind having his ears touched as long as it's you though, just ask for permission.
As such, neglect happens to himself especially at times of danger just to keep you safe and away from harm. He reasons that he is used to those things because of his work but seeing that look of worry and sadness on your face made him swear to not do it again.
He worries that you think that he always focuses on his job and would abandon you because of it so he tries his best to show you that you hold so much meaning to him and the thought of losing you has already made him overwhelmed with fear. 
Tumblr media
“I always have time for you.” — Thoma
Thoma and his everlasting loyalty and consistency with his actions and words. Despite his busy schedule with his constant running around and assistance, he would always find ways to spend time with you. Even if his day is rough and he’s exhausted, he always finds his way to you and your arms. It just feels like he has an empty slot on his schedule saved just for you. 
One minute, you’ll find him all around Ritou, talking to the shopkeepers and helping them with any issues that they are experiencing, then the next, he’s having a walk with you on your side while holding your hands as he tells you about what he has learned from that day, all the stories and gossips that he got from the citizens that he has helped and gotten close with.
Of course, on his day-offs and breaks, he will always have it dedicated to you. He’ll take you out on his day-offs on a date that he has planned for a long time or he will seek you out on his breaks and invite you to lunch with him. He loves having picnics with you outside while you two are watching the scenery as the sun sets and when he’s free by the evening, you two would often have dinner together and would go on a walk to your favorite spot to watch the stars.
When he’s really exhausted, however, plans are canceled— if there is one—and you two would instead spend your time holding one another in each other’s arms while being lulled to chase after the much-needed rest. Those moments of peace and tranquility are greatly appreciated and are meant to be cherished.
Although, it doesn’t mean that he’s being pressured to always have some time on his day saved just for you. Being a housekeeper of the Kamisato Clan and a well-known “fixer” in Inazuma sounds like a really tough job so you do understand that there are times wherein he gets really busy and you two can’t spend time with one another. You simply love the fact that he always has time for you despite everything.
— navigation | masterlist
1K notes · View notes