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#small fic in between my time travel au
angelsdean · 10 months
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there's just a whole deanlee summer (2002) that lives in my mind and it's the same summer in every universe i write. you will all be hearing about this summer in bits and flashes. it was a very formative time for our young dean
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anantaru · 5 months
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DAY 28 — BODYGUARD AU
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kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3
a/n. this can be seen as a continuation of my previous bodyguard au fic with wriothesley, make sure to check it out as well if you're interested, anyways, enjoy loves!
𖧡 — including — wriothesley
𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, bodyguard au, a little mean wriothesley & very teasing wriothesley, fingering & against the wall, some dirty talk and ugh he's a little asshole honestly
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bodyguard wriothesley was watching you, always watching you throughout the day, leisurely, and your heart suddenly skips a beat when he calls you, "princess," again, your breathing turning shallow as his broad body stands before you, slowly pressing you against the cold stonewall in the middle of the night— and it doesn't matter on how many times he would take the opportunity to tease you, he will always pull the same, coarse reactions out from your body and mind.
without dissembling, it excites you, a liquid hotness coursing through your pumping veins and leaving tingles all over your spine when he first cradles your cheek. his nostrils flaring as he focuses on your silent pleas— spotlights the pout on your pretty face and your teeth digging into your bottom lip as he lifts your head by your chin, his eyes searing through you.
bodyguard wriothesley who chuckles lowly, his lidded eyes as deep and dark as the ocean itself, "what's wrong, boss?" he teases, his grip holding you firmly against the wall as one hand slowly travelled south before looping his digits under your skirt until resting right above the waistband of your panties. "don't tell me you're actually nervous?" he whispers, almost cruelly and it drives you insane, the moment he says it, the moment he cups in between your legs and feel how you've already messed up your underwear.
"i'm not nervous," you rasp back and feel how your blood rises, "and i'm not paying you for this, you know,"
he chuckles wetly, "not paying me for this, yeah?" his breath tickling your ear.
by now, your nipples have hardened and sticked through the thin material of your dress, and of course, he had noticed it, salivated at the sight because he watched you, he has always watched you— you're so pretty it makes his head spin, and even though you could be mean, a little brat to be exact, as your bodyguard he has to endure it because later on, he will always have the chance to pay you back.
bodyguard wriothesley who drags one finger over your wet folds before circling it across the little pearl hidden in between the flesh, smiling viciously as you rest your head against his broad and strong chest then moan out, his onslaught of touches proving to be comforting on the reactive, thin skin on your core. he presses into you now, solely focused on that pressure between your thighs when you swallow him inside, breathing heavily into his clothed body.
"well, look at you," wriothesley smiles, his gesturing mocking as he cocks a brow, "who knew my boss was so desperate, so wet and so willing to—"
"shut up!" you mewl back angrily, then whine when he pumps a second finger in, faster and harder in and out of your tight hole clamping down on his digits.
your legs shake and twitch, and you notice how your slickness had not only covered his entire hand, but began to run and gather over the insides of your thighs— you're trembling, the small winces like music to his eager ears as bodyguard wriothesley continues to send violent tremors all over the expanse of your wet sex, the soft flesh of your walls sucking him in until he was knuckles deep pumping in and out, in and out, his facial expression vicious and alluring all in the same breath.
bodyguard wriothesley who likes when you're breathing heavily due to his sweet ministrations on your wet pussy, your body pitching forward as your hips desperately ride his fingers to catch your buzzing pleasure by the root, so you could cum and feel satiated all over again.
your hands becoming clammy as you cling yourself against him, your erotic puffs of air rolling from your tongue all the way to his smooth lips being just a hairbreadth away.
a loud, cruel laugh buzzes over your pouted lips when he laps the flat of his tongue inside your mouth before circling his pink muscle over your own, never letting go of the strong and deep thrusts into your pussy rolling over his digits so fucking heavenly that the obvious growing pain in his groin was not as bad as it actually was— now, your vision was blurred and a heavy weight of pressure gathers on your throbbing cunt, it's just so hot when he touches you, so disgustingly hot and you love it dearly.
"come on, princess," he whispers, "cum for me, i'll protect you," and your teeth were knocking against his as it's more tongue than actual making out taking place as you whine out strongly at the tingling vibrations being instantly set free— your belly tight as bodyguard wriothesley easily overpowers you with two long, thick fingers splitting you in half, his hand unforgivingly thrusting up into your heat as you violently cum all over him without warning, eyes rolled back and drool running from the corners of your mouth when he coaxes a strong orgasm out of your trembling frame.
your complete figure melts forward and rests against his chest as he wraps one hand around your waist to allow your frail body to sink against his entirely.
"good.. very good," wriothesley coos proudly at you, still tracing slow shapes all over your swollen walls as he pumps into them ever so slightly, catching on to your little whimpers and sniffles— he grins, of course he did, a mocking smile lingering on his glowing face as he slants his lips towards the shell of your ear,
"now it's your turn, boss."
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©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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joelmama · 11 months
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The Fisherman's Wife | Oneshot
no-outbreak!AU, no-Ellie!AU (😞), (basically it's pretty much devoid of anything canon, I'm sorry 😭 I just was desperate to see Joel as a fisherman.)(also don't ask what time-period this is set in i have no clue)
pairing: fisherman!Joel, soft!Joel x afab!fem!Reader content: arranged marriage, angst, fluff, smut. summary: The free-spirited Reader is arranged to marry a divorced Fisherman named Joel Miller. And although she protested this at first, she soon wonders if maybe she could be happy with her new husband. word count: 28.2k (yeesh) warnings: NSFW 18+ - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. mentions of death, age-gap (reader is 27, Joel is 48), smut - oral (f receiving and m recieving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, reader is inexperienced (meaning loss of virginity), lovesick Joel, and not beta'd! (if i left anything out please let me know :))
(oh and an obscene use of Y/N bc i write in third person 😩)
Ao3 Link
A/N: Hiii~!!! so usually I write fics for a completely different realm of content. but I haven't been able to continue my most recent fic bc this idea has been stuck in my mind for fricken weeks!!! and it wouldn't get out of my head until i actually wrote it down. TLOU has just been on my brain constantly these days i guess 🙄 (🥰). anyways i thought i'd write it, post it here, and then disappear back into my usual corner of the internet, never to be seen again 😈. i hope you enjoy my story!! ILY <3
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Far out from the rainy coast of the Pacific Northwest, sat a small island, always caught in the throes of an aimless sea. It was called the Isle of Ardor. Named after the burning passion of love. It was a peculiar name for the island, as it was always embedded within dark, curling swirls of stormy rain clouds; As well as the sour emotions that came with the storm— provided, of course, by the residents of this Isle. So the island was often left without the feeling of love. Neglected, for lack of any other words. Far from the symbol of love that was known by the world. 
Sure, there was the love that was bestowed by marriage, when a man first sets his sight on his arranged lover dressed in white. Or even love passed between a parent and a child, when a mother first hears the first laugh that tumbles out of her sweet childs lips. Or the fumbling platonic love that creates itself in whispered secrets during sleepovers between friends. But none of it was burning. None of it was passionate. It was a simple form of love. A perfect representation of the simple life that was often led on the Isle of Ardor. Despite its exciting name. 
A more fitting name would perhaps be something more simple. Unembellished. Basic. Ordinary. Sturdy. Something to match the uniform march of the adults in this town, as they traveled along the cobblestone roads in early morning light. Headed towards their humdrum jobs that kept the economy of this island churning like a slow cog in the machine. Meanwhile, the children were taught about this monotonous life in school. Sat rigid in their seats, the stiff collar of their uniform scratching at their necks. Forced to listen, forced to learn that there was only one path for them to take. All signs pointed, roads led and everything suggested that these children— Just as their parents, and their grandparents—  were destined for a life of simplicity. 
It was the exact opposite of what Y/N wanted. She abhorred the idea of simple. She wanted excitement. Yearned for passion. Craved the burn of love that left scars on your heart and bruises on your lips. 
Her wants and desperate needs were proven in the way she grew up. There wasn’t a day that went by where she wouldn’t step out of line. Her wrists would be sore from the snap of her teacher's ruler. Her ears would grow tired of the constant reprimand from her father. And her knees would bleed freely from the times she would escape the horrid monotony of life, out into the nature beyond. But the island was small, and her feet could only take her so far, so she would always easily be caught. She would return home with her sore wrists, tired ears and bloody knees, and sit by her bedroom window, hoping for something greater to take her away. 
It never came.
Eventually, she grew older. She matured, and she learned how to stay in line. For the most part. But as she aged, her tongue grew sharper with wit, and she soon often got in trouble for using words that could rival a sailor’s. By the time she was of marriageable age, no one on the island wanted anything to do with her. This all of course was to the dismay of her father. Who at this point thought that he would never be rid of his rambunctious daughter. 
He loved her with all of his beating heart, of course. But on the Isle of Ardor, all fathers wanted the same thing for their daughters. By the age of eighteen, they wanted their girls to find a satisfactory suitor to take care of them so that the fathers didn't have to worry as they faded into their old age. 
By now, all of Y/N’s classmates were already married. While at the age of twenty-seven due to her wild nature, no one had brought any offers to their household for her hand in marriage. Her father grew weaker and weaker as worry settled into his bones. 
Y/N on the other hand was ecstatic by her lack of prospects. Being a spinster meant she didn’t have to worry about some silly husband, wife or partner she didn’t truly care about. If people thought she was crazy? So be it. It was all worth it for the price of her freedom.
And now as she had no other burden brought on by school or a job, she would oftentimes be found by the raging ocean. Her toes deep in the blackened sand, skin salted by the sea and her hair tangled by the mischievous winds. And this is exactly where she was the minute she found out about the news that would tear her world apart.
Her father had found her a suitor.
The news was brought to her by the young messenger boy who would carry the most recent word of mouth with him on his rusty bicycle. Her father had flagged him down, offering a bill or two to find his daughter and bring her home immediately to meet the man she was destined to marry. 
The poor boy. He didn’t deserve to be met with the rage of a mad woman, but that was what he stumbled across when the news of her arranged marriage escaped from between his lips. At the sight, he suddenly understood why she was considered the town spinster. She was angered and chaotic, screaming into the wind when his words finally registered. She looked like a feral animal, the way she gnashed her teeth, yelling about the unfairness of it all. 
Him being no older than ten years old, couldn’t really understand why she was so upset about this news. She mumbled a few things— Something about her loss of freedom and self expression. But it was all very strange. He was used to the usual reaction from young women whenever they heard the news of their engagement. They were always… ecstatic. Squealing like pigs as they clutched onto their nearest friend, family member or even just a stranger. Or if they were unhappy with the prospect of marriage— just as Y/N was now— they were always able to hold their tongue until they were alone. 
Her reaction was all just very… strange. Very different. 
And different, it was. She now sat, stewing in her anger, refusing to even spare a glance towards her future husband.
A celebratory dinner, made carefully and happily by her aunt, sat on the wooden table stretched between them. It was all the distance she needed to ignore the man she was meant to be betrothed to. But even though she could avert her gaze, there was no getting past listening in on the conversation that flitted between this man and her family members.
She had learned that he lived on the other side of the island. So now it made sense that she didn’t recognize his surname when the messenger boy first told it to her. She barely got to know the names of her neighbors, let alone those on the windward side.
He was known as Joel Miller, only learning his first name when her father greeted him at the beginning of the evening, with a sturdy handshake at their front door, the casual name falling from his tongue as they exchanged niceties. As she stood behind her father’s shoulder, she refused to look at him even then, her eyes steady on the toes of her boots. 
Now at the table, the topic of his occupation also arose during the conversation. He spoke of his adventures out at sea, and what he encountered in his life as a fisherman. 
Typical. A fisherman. The most sought out job on this island as they were mainly considered as gods since they provided the island with prosperous amounts of food and good fortune. The people that held the title of ‘fishermen’ were always the most sought after when it came to marriage. Y/N wondered how her father was able to find a man like that for her. 
But as the dinner went on, the secret was soon revealed. Because she soon learned that his wife had left him. Many years ago, late in the night as a stowaway on a cargo ship headed towards the mainland. The only thing worse than a spinster was a man whose wife had left him. And now the puzzle pieces were fitting together. 
They were a match made in heaven. The crazy woman and the unwanted man. 
Y/N felt nothing but sympathy for his first wife. Surely, she was just the same as she. The only reason a woman would leave her partner was if she yearned for freedom beyond the tassels of marriage. Maybe eventually, Y/N would make the score two for two. Leave him behind just as his first wife did. The thought brought an overwhelming onslaught of anticipation that burned within the girl's core. 
But she had to be patient. She couldn’t just leave him when all eyes were narrowed in on their engagement. The whispers on the street all revolved around her, and how she was finally able to snag a man after all these years. Even more speculation was offered when they found out who the man was. Apparently these two were a circus act around the Isle of Ardor. A horrific accident that none of the residents could tear their eyes from.
Maybe that’s why their wedding was so crowded. 
A few weeks had past, and she had yet to grant the man with her gaze. All she knew of his looks was the quick glimpse of silver she saw scattered amongst the brown in his hair, and the hard set of his jawline, clenched in an anger that seemed to always be present. So as she walked down the aisle, her fingers clenched around a wilting bouquet of daisies, she kept her eyes pointed towards the horizon that lingered in the distance.
Traditional Ardorian weddings were always held in the same place. On the cliffside, hanging over the tempestuous sea that always danced near the shores of the Isle. The same clergyman, performed the same ceremony, spoke the same gentle words every single time. She has been to countless versions of this very same wedding throughout the duration of her life. Though, she never thought that it would be her who was forced to stand under the wedding arch. Especially in her late-mothers wedding gown, in front of the entirety of the small town that sat on the coast of Ardor. 
The most surprising part of it all was when she exchanged her ‘I do’s’ effortlessly and without any complaint. 
Maybe that was what also surprised most of the wedding-goers, as they began to whisper to one another. The crowd seemed disappointed, almost as if they expected a spectacle from the woman they deemed a recluse. From the rumors they’ve already heard through the grapevine, maybe they were expecting her to grow reckless with abandon. To stomp her feet and scream out to the gods. So when they were met with this quiet, timid version of the woman, who spoke her vows with no contradiction, they all stood and left the wedding. Completely missing out on the part when the man was told to kiss his bride. Which he didn’t even do. 
A very strange wedding indeed. 
It all came to a head when the man called Joel finally brought his new wife towards the threshold of their (used) marital home. It was a few hours after the ceremony, and usually this part of the evening was paired with bright, eager smiles as newly-weds were finally allowed to consummate their love. However, as we already know with this couple, the night went very differently than the norm that is usually presented. 
As soon as he had unlocked the door for his established home, the woman stormed through the front entrance, her eyes darting around each corner as she took in each aspect of her new home. Trying to find something to dislike. But it was an agreeable home. Comfortable and cluttered with trinkets that must’ve meant a great deal to the man. It was… interesting. So after finding nothing she could truly complain about, and be the disastrous wife she planned to be, she whipped towards him in an unexpected flurry, her arms folding across her chest. 
Her eyes finally landed on him for the very first time. And she stilled. 
He was older. Much older. But she already knew that from the information she learned from her father. What she didn’t know was how good age looked on the man. He was handsome... And so much larger than she had thought. His shoulders were wide, emphasized as he stood in the doorway. His hands looked strong and calloused, obviously capable of working against the aggression brought forth by an unforgiving sea. 
Then there were the features she had only caught glimpses of, but yet she was overly familiar with— due to the flashes of her memory that blared across the dark of her eyelids whenever she tried to sleep. His brown curls were unruly across his forehead, despite his attempt to manage them with gel, most likely trying to look put together for the wedding. They were painted with faint hues of gray, evidence of the twenty-some years he had against her. 
Her eyes tugged towards his familiar jawline. Strong— just as she remembered. But it wasn’t clenched in anger, or anything else of the sorts. His features were molded in a form that looked to be like curiosity. Maybe this was the first real look he had of her as well…
That’s when she met the deep brown irises of his eyes. The sight of which was a drastic contrast of anything else she had known of him. They were almost… warm and forgiving, bordered by the faint outline of crows feet, formed over the years. His gaze was soft in the way he considered her features and dragged over the curves of her body. So different from the harsh lines of the rest of his body.
She held her arms tighter against her form. Feeling vulnerable under his stare.
“I don’t know what you’re expecting to happen…” Y/N finally spoke the first words she ever said to the man who was considered to be her husband, “But I can assure you that it’s not what you’re thinking.”
The man simply stared at her, his eyebrows raising at her words. She took a step back as he took a step inside, but felt foolish as he only did so to turn around and shut the front door behind him. The familiar sea breeze now lost to them. 
When he turned back around, he spoke the first words he ever said to the woman who was considered to be his wife. 
“I wasn’t expectin’ anything.” He replied, his sentence simple and his accent faded.
She had heard his voice before. When he was speaking to her father and reciting his vows. But now that it was directed towards her, it finally dawned on her how deep it was. How it rumbled through his chest in such a way that it settled deep within Y/N’s bones.
She was perturbed by the sensation. So much so that her next argument was lost on her tongue.
“Follow me.” He said, in the absence of her words.
Since there wasn’t much left to do, she did just that. The small house shifted under the weight of their footfalls as they ascended up the creaky stairs. Y/N’s eyes were trained on the sight of his broad back, taking up so much space as he ventured through the hallways of this two-story home. 
Her eyes were soon torn away from his form as she took in the decor of the rest of his— their house. It matched what she saw downstairs. Everything was nautical themed, something common within the homes that littered this island. But the way this house was decorated was different. Instead of the manufactured ocean aesthetic that Y/N was used to, everything about this house was… natural. The way she felt in this house felt exactly how she felt on the beaches that ringed around this tiny island. She never thought she’d ever meet anyone who was able to capture the essence of the natural world so effortlessly. She began to soften, similar to what she felt when she saw that look in his brown eyes.
She squared her shoulders against the thought, forcing her resolve back to the forefront of her mind. This was the last place she wanted to be. She had to remind herself of that. 
“This is your room.” Joel muttered in that deep voice of his, stopping at a door sat at the end of the hall. His large hand twisting the golden doorknob, it swung open as he pushed against the wood. 
“My room?” Y/N questioned, as she stood on her tiptoes, staring into the confines that were now revealed from over Joel’s shoulder. She took in the sight of a wrought-iron bed, a vanity and a wardrobe built out of dark-stained wood. Furniture to call her own for the first time. 
“Your’s.” He nodded in confirmation. And then he stepped aside, letting her venture further into the room. She breathed in the fresh air that was granted by the windows that still stood open against either wall, crickets calling through the crevices, seeping in from the dark of the night. 
She ran a hand over the handmade quilt that covered the mattress, cool against her palm, unslept in for months— maybe years. 
The floorboards squeaked under her feet as she turned quickly towards where Joel was standing. But the doorway was empty. Her words of gratitude fell flat against the air now that there was no one to direct them to. 
He must’ve snuck off as she was admiring the room, assuming she wanted to be left alone. Which she did. But no one had ever respected her privacy before. She definitely wasn’t expecting the courtesy from the man she was forced to marry. 
A weird feeling wormed its way into Y/N’s heart, one she had never felt before. She chose to ignore it as she plopped onto the mattress, springs squeaking under her weight, staring at the vacant space where Joel once stood.
~
Weeks passed by, and neither one of the newlyweds tried to make any contact with one another as they resided in their separate bedrooms.
Since Y/N was now destined to be a doting housewife, no one had any expectations for her beyond the household she currently lived in. And since Joel was avoiding her just as much as she was him, it was easy to dismiss his heavy footfalls that rang out against the house in the early hours of the morning. All she had to do was wait until they faded off the steps of the front porch, and then she was free to roam the house that was now half hers. 
Though after her exploring was finished, most of her days were spent in the garden, overgrown from lack of maintenance, but Y/N happened to like it that way. She was elated to find it, as she stood on the precipice of the backyard that very first morning. And now Y/N could be found curled on the antiquated porch swing that sat among the weeds, a book cradled in her lap, stolen from the office she also discovered on her second day of living with her new husband. 
However, as she relaxed in the garden, sun shining over every inch of her exposed skin, guilt would soon riddle her bones. It was another feeling she wasn’t used to. But now that she was married and now that she knew that Joel wasn’t the horrible intrusive husband she thought he would be, she decided he deserved to come home to a warm meal. So eventually— after a few of her days spent basking in the sun, the guilt becoming too much— she would one day venture to the market nearest their marital home and pick up ingredients to make the man some dinner after his long day at the docks.
She would never actually eat with him, of course— only leaving the homemade food in a ceramic pot stationed in the middle of the kitchen table. But she hoped her gesture proved enough that she wasn’t exactly angered by his newfound presence in her life. 
Despite the fact that she still planned on her escape.
It was obvious that Joel wasn’t a bad husband. And of course, that brought pause to the woman. She wondered what exactly it was that drove his first wife to leave him when he wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought. But the mystery still couldn’t counter with the fact that Y/N was desperate for her freedom, and desperate for a love that would set her heart on fire. Surely she couldn’t find that sort of thing on this tiny insignificant island. She had to escape. Didn’t she?
The topic stayed constant on her mind as she perused the books in Joel’s tiny library (library being a generous term, it was actually just one shelf tucked in the corner of his office). One day, in the living room, she even stumbled upon a great big atlas that Joel had left behind, turned open on a page that showcased an image of the world. All the little squiggles and lines that made up the map of their great big earth, her soulmate must have resided within one of those faraway places. He couldn’t have been so close, on the tiny dot that represented the Isle of Ardor, it seemed impossible.
Now lost in thought about chances and percentages, the young woman paid no mind to the time that passed as she flipped through the large pages of the atlas. The sun was dipping low beneath the horizon, painting the skies with pinks, and oranges. She had yet to even make dinner when Joel had walked through the front door.
She stood quickly from her spot on the couch. As a habit, her tongue fumbled through the words that would leave her mouth whenever her father would return from work. 
“Welcome home.”
Joel paused in the doorway. His brows furrowed in confusion since by this time the woman was usually found locked in her bedroom. And typically, when one welcomes you home, you’re supposed to reply with some form of gratitude, at least this was custom to the Isle of Ardor. But Joel was at a loss for words. To have his new wife, ready and expectant of him was unfamiliar. Especially since she had granted no interest in him for the past few weeks.
“I forgot to make dinner.” She told him, seemingly desperate to fill the silence. Her tone was soft with apprehension, she looked like a timid little rabbit. “I’m sorry.”
Taking in her words, and the sight of her— chest heaving as she stood by the couch, almost as if she were caught in the act of something despicable— Joel soon realized that this was all an accident. He wasn’t meant to find her like this. She had only gotten lost within whatever activity she was currently indulging herself in. 
He caught sight of the atlas he left on the couch late last night. It was there since he was currently making plans for his upcoming fishing trip, but it was quickly forgotten once the threat of sleep had forced him to make his way back towards his bedroom. Was that what she was looking at? His lips parted with even more realization, if that was the case. He had a sneaking suspicion why she would be interested in a book like that. But he wasn’t about to ask her any incriminating questions.
“That’s alright.” He breathed, shutting the door behind him and foregoing any accusations he could potentially throw her way. “I can make something.”
“No, please.” She begged, as if guilt forced her back into the role of a doting wife. “You’ve had a long day. Allow me.”
She moved through the small living room of the house in long strides, headed towards the kitchen. She was determined to be the good wife she promised to be when she made her vows. Even if it was a lie at the time. Even if it still was as she planned for her escape.
As she brushed past Joel, her wrist was suddenly encased in a pool of unexpected warmth. His calloused fingers were wrapped firmly against her skin. In the month that they had been married, this was the first time he had ever touched her. Her heart lodged itself in her throat. Her gaze shifted so that she was staring wide-eyed up at her husband.
“Let me help you.” He murmured, his own eyes pleading her for something she was unsure of. 
“Okay.” She whispered, nodding her head slightly, since there was nothing else she could do.
Now here they were, standing in their humble kitchen, stove hot and burning as they both stood over the swirling pot of spices, vegetables and fish. This form of intimacy was unfamiliar to them. It was the closest they’ve been in weeks, and it felt far more vulnerable than it did when they stood across the aisle as they spoke their vows. Joel’s hand was gripped harshly against the wooden spoon as he stirred the contents of their stew. Y/N’s fingers were latched onto the salt shaker, her eyes trained on the little grain of bitter crystal that was lodged in one of the holes. 
“Here.” Joel practically whispered, holding up the spoon for his wife to taste. She glanced up at him through her lashes, hesitantly, before slowly leaning forward.
Her supple lips formed around the wood as she slurped at its contents. Joel shivered at the sight. He knew that his new wife was pretty, but seeing as she took his requests so willingly, was a sight to behold. Her lips seemed so plush, and the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she blew cold air across his offered taste, almost had him down on his knees. His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed harshly against his dry throat, mind littered with filthy innuendos.
“How’s it taste?” He asked, his voice strained, forcing away the provocative thoughts that forged to the front of his mind.
Her brows furrowed in concentration as she held the flavor on her tongue. But soon a small grin flickered across her features. Joel’s stomach dipped at the sight. A feeling he hadn’t felt in years— maybe decades... maybe ever.
“It’s good.” She replied, wrapping her own smaller fingers around Joel’s hand as she brought the spoon up for a second taste. The touch of her hand was a shock, to say the least. It was only their second instance of skin contact and yet it was so much different than before. Only because it was her that was touching him. Willingly— no, purposefully. Embarrassingly enough, the surprise of it all was somehow too much for the older man. The spoon slipped from his grasp, clattering against the tile, splashing stew across the lower half of the surrounding cabinets, as well as the long hem of Y/N’s skirt. Joel took a large step back, the heat of shame licking up his neck to the tips of his ears.
“Sorry— I— Sorry.” He stammered, finishing his words somewhat lamely. He felt like a shy little school boy, he couldn’t even meet her gaze. It was humiliating. 
That was until he heard the sound of her laughter. Soft and tinkling, with no hint of malice. She wasn’t laughing at him, she wasn’t even laughing with him. It was more like she was laughing at the entire situation, or maybe at nothing in particular. He finally braved a glance up at her, to see those supple lips curled into a bright smile. His heart lurched at the sight.
She didn’t say anything. Didn’t acknowledge his fumbling apology, instead she shook her head slightly, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater, a smile still apparent on her face as she got to her knees and began to clean up the mess. She didn’t even worry about the splotches of blooming red that was scattered across the white fabric of her pretty skirt. She let it stain. Lasting proof of the very first dinner they shared as man and wife.
He served it up in heaping spoonfuls. Steam lazily swirling up from the hot meal, confined in ceramic bowls that Joel had pulled from the cabinets. After Y/N’s laughter had faded from the air, the only sound that graced their ears was that of spoons scraping against the stoneware as they savored their last bites.
No words were spoken as they sat at the kitchen table. And the woman couldn’t decide if it was awkward or not. She was never one to be deterred by the presence of silence, but she was curious if the man who now sat across from her was.
Not that he was a man of many words. He was silent in the very way he lived. His actions were always careful and well thought out. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t heard of him before their betrothal. You don’t turn the cogs of the rumor mill if you keep to yourself. Which is what Joel seemed to do. 
So maybe he liked the silence. Y/N decided she did as well. 
Though it was finally broken when they stood at the kitchen sink, Joel was washing the dishes while Y/N dried— All serenaded by the sound of running water and clanking utensils. That was all it was until his words filtered in through the white noise.
“I’m leavin’ tomorrow.” He told her, eyes trained on the tiny soap bubbles attaching themselves to the skin of his hands. They were iridescent in their color. The distraction of it left the furrow between Y/N’s brows unknown. She wondered where on earth he could possibly be going. But the question was soon answered as he continued.
“It’s the first fishin’ trip of the season. Gonna be gone for a week or two.” He explained. Her mouth formed around a silent ‘ah’ as understanding dawned on her.
Fishing expeditions were always a big spectacle in this little town. Caught in glimpses on her way to school, Y/N always observed the teary-eyed farewells passed between the fishermen and their families. Hands up in the air in enthusiastic waves of goodbye as the ship drew further out to sea, becoming a small insignificant dot and then turning into nothing against the horizon. 
She liked the return days far better. They always seemed much happier when loving arms wrapped around trembling shoulders, a warm embrace to signify how grateful the fishermen were to be brought home safe and unharmed. It was one of the few times this island lived up to its name. 
And now the woman was left wondering if Joel expected her to become one of the teary-eyed family members waiting down by the docks. 
“What time are you leaving?” She asked, carefully setting down the bowl that resided in her hands, it clinked against the wooden countertop.
“Early.” He replied, his large fingers hooking around the faucet lever, shutting off the constant stream of water. In its absence, the silence was louder and the same could be said of that deep voice of his. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to wake you when I leave.”
So now the question was answered. He didn’t expect anything from her. Just like he said that very first night. It was still a foreign concept for her. She wasn’t sure if she truly believed it. 
Though the belief finally found her when she woke up late the next morning, the sun deep in the sky, shining bright over her bed and warming her skin. She laid there for a minute, staring up at the ceiling as she considered the quiet state of the house. It was silent now more than ever. Left without the sound of Joel’s familiar footsteps as well as a final goodbye.
~
The time spent alone in the little house was surprisingly dreary. 
At first— once the realization that she had the house to herself settled in, the woman was ecstatic. She had never been left to her own devices before. Usually she would have to cheat her way out of the ever-present company of her family, just for five minutes of precious solitude. Now she had hours of it— days of it. It was exhilarating. It was freeing. It was… lonely.
And maybe just a little bit scary, as she curled under her sheets at night, unable to explain away the creaks that filtered in from under her door now that Joel was gone. 
Joel.
The absence of him presented Y/N with the unexpected discovery that he was a form of comfort that surrounded the walls of this house. Almost as if he were the protector of this hearth. And now that he was gone, the little noises she heard at night shifted into dark threatening creatures within the confines of Y/N’s overactive imagination.  
She cursed herself for her sudden lack of backbone. 
However, the daytime was somehow worse. Because at least during the night, her fear would soon subside once the calming tendrils of sleep coaxed Y/N back into her dreams. But during the day, when she was sitting on that squeaky porch swing, boredom would be the next thing to burden her. And there was nothing she could do to alleviate herself from it. 
There were only so many books in Joel’s collection. Only so many rooms that were left to explore (excluding the master bedroom of course). And only so many activities that she could think to do to distract herself. So as she sat there aimlessly, swinging back and forth under a late afternoon sun, it dawned on her that she was most entertained when navigating this new delicate life that she shared with Joel.
Which eventually brought her to the greater realization that it wasn’t fear or boredom that caused the ache that burned low in her stomach. No, it was the fact of the matter that she had simply missed Joel. One might describe that ache as yearning. But Y/N would definitely not be the one to do so. So she ignored the feeling.
She ignored it until it was replaced with the growing buzz of anticipation when the day of Joel’s return finally arrived. 
Excited whispers were passed from mouth to ear as everyone spoke about the ship's return. Y/N had caught a conversation while perusing the pitted-fruits at the market, relaying the information that the boat was set to dock later that evening. And as she quickly returned the contents that resided in her basket— replacing it with enough ingredients for a meal made for two rather than one— Y/N wondered if she was perhaps sharing in the excitement that took over the small island.
Which would be very odd, for she never once felt united with her fellow townspeople, and she could hardly believe that she was excited to see the man she was forced to marry. Though the oddest thing was, (and this was still unbeknownst to the young woman herself) was that she hadn’t thought of her underlying desire to escape, whatsoever. Not even once while she was left alone for the past two weeks, which by all means would have been the perfect time to plan her getaway. But the notion was completely lost to her mind as she hurriedly made her way back home so that she could start on dinner.
It was a sight to behold.
Later that evening, as Joel stood in the entranceway, limbs overtired from his harsh venture out to sea, he thought he was hallucinating. The last thing he expected when he walked through that door was to be met with the image of his wife, looking oh-so pretty in a light blue dress, waiting eagerly by a table full of food. The whole scene of it was washed in a golden light from candles set across the room. It was set to look like a dream. Was he dreaming?
He had thought their dinner the night before he left would be the last one. In fact, he had thought that would be the last time he'd ever see her. 
Joel wasn’t an oblivious man. He knew how she felt about this whole arrangement. It was obvious in the way she would avoid looking at him when they had first met. And even if he couldn’t see the hatred she harbored for him within her irises, the woman wore her heart on her sleeve. He could see her indignation in the way she huffed around the house and stomped her way into the garden. Which was all made much more confusing when she started leaving him hot meals after his work was finished by the dock. He didn’t anticipate such a kind gesture from her.
She was a mystery. But he supposed she leaned more towards the side of completely hating his guts as she was still bent on avoiding him those first couple of weeks into their marriage.
Not that he could blame the woman. He only said yes to her father’s proposition because the man looked so desperate. He was practically down on his knees. And Joel couldn’t say he wasn’t enticed by the idea of not having to return to an empty home any longer. 
But Joel wasn’t attached to the idea of their marriage. 
So if she wanted to avoid him, he would grant her the space she needed. If she wanted to huff at him in anger whenever their paths did cross, he would take the onslaught. And if she wanted to escape into the night, never to be heard from again, who was he to try and stop her?
In the meantime, he would enjoy the meals she left for him.
Then came the night when she decided to share it with him. Sure, it was an accident. And the entire encounter was fumbling and awkward. But it sparked a small bout of warmth deep within his chest. 
He supposed that feeling was hope. Or at least that was the conclusion he came to as he was rocked to sleep by the ebbing waves underneath his ship. He had felt hope before, it’s been a long time, but he knew what it was. That’s all it could ever be. But what was he hoping for?
Hope that this could be something more than a marriage certificate? Hope that she would stick around, at least for a few more weeks? Hope that he would see her face amongst the crowd as their ship pulled back into the dock?
When he didn’t see her, the warmth was lost to him. And in its absence that’s when he knew that’s exactly what it was. Without that flame of hope, he was now shrouded in darkness just like he knew his house would be when he returned under the setting sun.
So he was not expecting this. Not at all. 
“You’re here.” He said, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. A little line appeared between her two brows as confusion riddled her features.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asked, head tilting with the question.
“I don’t know. I just… thought that maybe you’d be gone.” He replied, shaking his own head slightly as he admitted his suspicion out loud.
Busted. 
Y/N’s shoulders tensed as the words hung in the air between them. She should have known that he’d catch on to her plans, she wasn’t usually the type to be subtle with her grievances. But there was a twinge in her stomach at his admittance. The one thing he expected of her was exactly the one thing she wanted. And he would’ve let it happen. The hidden honesty in his words coerced the same thing from her own lips.
“I thought the same thing.” She confessed, a small bashful smile forming on her lips. The corners of Joel's mouth twitched up into a fleeting smile. It was gone within seconds. But the gleam of it still shone within the depths of his brown irises.
Then he offered her a small understanding nod. And that was all that was needed. The flame of hope flickered on.
They both took their seats and ate the homemade dinner in comfortable silence.
~
The same fragile routine had now taken place every night since then. As soon as Joel would return home from the docks, he would be greeted by the sight of Y/N chopping up the chosen vegetable for that night. If he came home early enough, there would still be certain tasks that needed to be finished, and she never complained when he would step in beside her with freshly washed hands— the sleeves of his flannel rolled further up his forearms— ready to help. 
He liked those times the most. There was something serene in the way they moved around the kitchen together, as if they were living proof of perfect harmony. So most days, Joel would finish the menial tasks at work as quickly as he possibly could to return home before she finished cooking. He was greedy for more of these interactions to hold under his belt. And he would always be slightly disappointed whenever he found the table already set. Though that grievance wouldn’t last long as he was soon greeted by Y/N’s smile, that seemed to be getting brighter with each passing day. 
Unfortunately for Y/N, she was not granted with the same reassurance. 
As it turns out, Joel was a brick wall of a man, which was a fact he was completely unaware of. So his expressions of contentedness were lost on the woman. She wasn’t observant enough to notice how he would return home from work earlier and earlier each day. Or to catch on to the way his eyes would linger on her while they silently ate their dinner. 
What she did notice was how he never smiled. It was as if he never learned how to. Maybe he had been a sad little baby from the moment he was born. Or perhaps he did know how to smile, and he just never had a reason to. Not even now. Not even with her. 
Which, to be honest, was a punch in the gut for the young woman, since she had been finding so much joy during the times they shared together. 
She tried to be rational, because Joel had always been a very unemotional man. But Y/N’s brain always kicked into overdrive whenever she was left alone with her thoughts, and it always boiled down to the conclusion that perhaps Joel just didn’t like her very much. 
Oh, how the tables have turned. One minute she detested the man she was betrothed to and in the next she lapped up any attention he had gifted her like a small pathetic puppy. She was desperate to know more about the man. What was it that made him smile? Who was he? What were his interests? What was he like as a child?
And why on earth would his first wife ever leave him?
She had found out the answer to that— as well as caught her first glimpse of the surprising range of his emotions— all in the same night. 
There was a storm that evening. Dark and unrelenting as the onslaught of rain pounded against the roof of their quaint little house. Big bolts of lighting hung low in the sky, illuminating the world in small fractions of time. The thunder rolling deep on its heel. 
Joel was hours late. The dinner that sat on the table was ice cold. Though that fact was unnoticed by the woman, as she paced the distance of the kitchen, her bones wracked with worry. This was the perfect example of how her mind kicked into overdrive in times of distress. She assumed the worst. 
She imagined Joel dead, left unbreathing, body lost under treacherous waves. 
Panic quickened the beat of her heart. Any efforts she made to calm herself fell flat. Reason and rationality were lost to her completely. All she could do was to keep moving her feet. 
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Until her feet took her further. Soft footsteps rang out against the floor of the living room and then up the stairs. They paced the length of the hallway a few times until the woman found herself stationed in front of the door to the master bedroom.
Her hand had somehow found itself gripped around the cool metal of the doorknob. 
When she twisted it, the door swung open with ease. 
It was easy for Y/N to dismiss her worries when it was replaced by a burning curiosity. She stood at the precipice of his bedroom, eyes flickering over every surface. 
There was a large bed that sat in the middle of the room, left untidy by the man who stumbled out of it early that morning. The image of his large form tangled in the sheets flickered to the front of her mind, before she forced herself to focus on the next part of the room.
There was a bay window, looking out over the back garden. The bench underneath it was adorned with countless throw pillows, a detail that must have been added by his previous wife. Joel didn’t seem to be the type to appreciate that type of decor. A weird surge of jealousy was added to the other emotions she was already riddled with that evening. It burned bright behind her sternum. 
But then her gaze roamed over the bookshelf that towered over the rest of the room. It resided next to a door, but what could potentially be hidden behind it wasn’t what had her feet moving deeper into the room. (Since it was most likely a bathroom, anyways.)
It was a picture.
Sat on one of the middle shelves of the bookshelf. It was framed in an intricate engraved pattern of gold-painted wood, a happy memory captured in black and white. 
Frozen in time was the image of a young girl— most likely not even reaching double digits in her age. Her smile was bright and somewhat stubborn as she grinned up at her from the frame. She had dark skin and soft eyes that reminded the woman of Joel. Her hair framed her face in disorderly curls, tousled by the seabreeze. Y/N smiled softly at the wild look that sparked in the girl's irises, as if ready for any adventure that would be thrown her way. She ran a finger over the smooth glass, like she could caress the girl's face in her own hands.
“What are you doing?”
It wasn’t the words themselves that caused the woman to drop the picture, but rather the rage that was intertwined within them. Her eyes snapped up to find Joel standing in the door, backlit from the light in the hallway. His brown hair was matted against the skin of his forehead, soaked by the heavy rain. The rest of it dripped off of his clothes as they clung to his skin, creating a puddle around his boot-clad feet. 
The glass of the frame shattered once it hit the floor. 
“Who told you, you could come in here?” He seethed, reaching her in just a few long strides. She cowered against the bookshelf in his advancement but the collision never came. He bent towards the ground, large hands shifting through the broken glass.
“I-I’m sorry.” Y/N stammered, dropping down to help him. He pushed her hands away.
“Don’t.” He snapped. 
“Why would you do this?” He then added, his words were harsh. He looked up at her, his eyes were dark with his wrath. A small pathetic sound squeaked out of her throat, she shook her head, unable to find the words.
And then the next thing she knew, she was running. Was it the anger that caused her to run? Or perhaps her own embarrassment. She didn’t know. But the sudden invasion of his unconventional display of emotion had become all too much. The same feet that carried her towards the master bedroom brought her out into the garden.
Y/N barely realized where she was until she registered the harsh rain that bombarded her skin, her hair and clothes instantly soaked as she ventured out among the overgrown weeds. Her legs didn’t stop until her palms wrapped around the familiar wood of the porch swing she spent so much of her time with. Her shoulders shook with shame, cursing herself inwardly for her intrusiveness. 
And then… Somehow, through the howling wind, Y/N had heard her name. 
She whipped her head towards the house to see that Joel had followed her. He charged through the storm, through the vegetation that whipped wildly in the wind, until he reached her. She expected more of his anger.
Instead she was met with two large hands cupping her cheeks.
“Are you hurt?” He asked over the raging of the storm, before she could make any questions of her own.
“I— what?” She faltered, her hands instinctively moving up to caress the skin of his wrists.
“Are you alright?” He repeated himself with new words, his brown eyes flickering over each feature of her face, as if he was making sure each part of her was still there. 
“It’s only rain. Of course I’m alright.” She answered, a bit impatiently. Did he really think so little of her and her competence?
“You certain?” He asked, and that’s when Y/N took notice of the panic that resided in his brown irises. His breathing was dissonant and in a sense, frightened. This was something else entirely.
“Joel.” She said her tone shifted drastically from annoyance to something much softer. But his movements were still frantic as he searched her for any injuries.
“Joel!” She said again, louder this time, hoping to gain his attention. When she didn’t, Y/N tightened her grip around the wrist of his right hand, and shifted it towards her beating heart. She hoped he could feel the proof of her life that thrummed against the skin of her chest. 
The evidence of her heartbeat calmed Joel down, his breathing evened out.
“I’m fine.” She murmured, tilting her chin to kiss the palm of his left hand. She was unsure of what brought her to do it, but it seemed to help as Joel then pulled her into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders. He sighed once he felt her weight against him.
“I’m alright.” She reiterated into his soaked flannel. His arms wound tighter around her.
And then they were back inside. To her objection, he had made her take a shower, to extinguish any chill that the rain might have instilled in her bones. She almost got away with not taking one until her chattering teeth proved her otherwise. He had given her such a demanding look that she had no other choice but to do as he said. 
So once she was showered and dressed in warm pajamas, (and once he did the same). They were now sitting in the living room. Her knees were curled up to her chest as she sat on the couch, Joel’s feet were solid against the patterned rug that sat beneath them, in an armchair angled directly in front of her. Their usual silence had found them again. Was it comfortable or not? Y/N had yet to find out. Joel broke it before she could.
“I’m sorry.” He told her, his cheeks pink with shame and his eyes averted to the ground. She shook her head in defiance to his apology, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
“No, it was my—” She tried to counter. But he pursed his lips, causing her to promptly keep her mouth shut.
“I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you like that.” He said after a brief pause.
“It was well deserved.” Y/N admitted, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “I shouldn’t have entered your room.”
Joel shook his head the same way she did, only slightly, but Y/N caught it.
“It was about time, anyways.” He commented. She resisted the urge to pry for more, cause she knew that eventually he would indulge in her curiosities. And he did.
“She was my daughter.” He murmured, knuckles white from his grip on the arms of the plush leather chair he was sitting upon.
“The girl. In the picture.” Joel clarified when he was met with her silence. But Y/N already knew that. Her silence to his explanation was due to the word he used. Was.
She repeated it out loud, in the form of a question. 
A sigh escaped Joel's lips, he leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He still wouldn’t meet Y/N’s gaze.
“Do you remember that storm twelve years ago?” Joel questioned, his palm running over his forehead as he prepared himself to tell this story. Y/N responded with a soft ‘yes.’ It was a horrible, outrageous storm that caused so much damage to their little town. So much loss and heartache that hung over the island, even to this day. She was fifteen years old. The fear of it all was still present in her memories.
“Well, my daughter… Sarah. She…” His voice cracked, he dragged in a shuddering breath. “Somehow she got outside. Debris from the old farmhouse across the street was picked up by the wind. Pierced right through her—” 
A sharp sob interrupted his sentence. Y/N wasted no time. She pushed up from her spot on the couch and was on her knees, sitting in front of him in a moment's notice. Her hands were splayed across his own thick thighs, she squeezed her digits around the muscles in reassurance. He didn’t need to say anything more. The picture was painted.
“She was nine years old.” Joel whispered into the hand that was still hiding his features, finding the courage to speak more about it once he felt her touch through the fabric of his pajama pants. “Nine years old, and she lost her life.”
And now everything was clear. It made sense why he was so scared for her life out there in the garden. He had experienced a loss like that before. A cruel twist of fate that took the life of his daughter. Right in his front yard.
“I wish every day that it was me instead of her.” He admitted, more sobs wracking through his body, large shoulders shaking.
It was peculiar to see him like this. Usually he was such a vision of strength, but now that these emotions were presented to Y/N, everything made so much more sense. He was hiding himself. Scared of more loss, if he opened his heart up to anyone else. This was only more confirmed as he continued.
“My wife— My first wife, she couldn't handle the loss of our daughter.” Joel relayed, “I don’t think she was happy with me. Not until Sarah was born. And once she was gone… She didn’t have a reason to stay…”
His words died in the air after that. But yet again there was no need to continue. Y/N understood. And all she could do was shift her hands so that her arms were now wrapped around his neck. She pulled Joel in as close as she could, her waist now fitted between his thighs. He clutched onto her in return, fingers gripping into her nightgown. His head resting in the crook of her neck, mouth pressed against the tendon. 
“I won’t leave you.” Y/N whispered into his hair, still damp from the recent shower. 
She wasn’t exactly sure what brought her to say those words, but once they were hanging in the air she knew them to be true. And she knew he did too once she felt his lips form into a distinguishable kiss against her skin. It was faint, but the spark of it lingered, and it changed everything.
~
A few months had passed since the night of the storm and a lot had changed for the woman, at least inwardly. But their routine? It was all the same. They would make dinner, share in their comfortable silence (sometimes punctuated with lighthearted conversation) and then they’d return to their separate bedrooms. Every. Single. Night. Nothing more, nothing less.
It was a bit frustrating to say the least. 
And then he would leave every few weeks, on a venture out at sea. Where he would be gone for days at a time. And of course, she would miss him terribly. But would Y/N accompany him to the docks whenever he would leave? No. Would she ever be there to greet him home? Also no.
So it was safe to say that the blame was partially on her. Which frustrated the woman even further, because now she couldn’t even rely on the fact that the indifference was all one sided. Her actions apparently proved otherwise.
But what was it that she wanted to change? Maybe she expected their conversations to be much lengthier now that they had crossed the boundaries of hidden grievances. Or maybe she expected him to extend an invitation to sleep in his bedroom, now that they had participated in small instances of physical touch. Whatever it was, Y/N only knew one thing.
It had seemed they were still stuck at square one.
And with every one step forward there were three steps back. Not so long ago they were so close, lips against skin in the quiet of their living room. Safe in each other's arms as the storm raged on. But now? There was nothing. 
She resented the fact that she was falling into the wants and desires of the common Ardorian townsman. It all seemed very mundane against the aspirations she held close to her heart before she was married. But as she stewed in these feelings— especially during the times that Joel was away— she wondered if these desires were just part of the human experience. Perhaps they were even the desires that came with the burning passionate love she yearned for…
Now that she knew what it felt like. It all seemed so natural. You meet the one who befuddles your heart and soul and all you want is… more, more, more.
Would she ever get what she was hoping for?
Maybe she could, if she was brave enough. 
The opportunity presented itself the eve of Joel’s next expedition. 
He had gotten home early that day, so he was around to help finish up dinner. Y/N remembered being unable to look away as his large hands sliced each potato that needed to be added to the pot. He was attentive with his actions, just as he always was. She was jealous of the knife that resided gently in his grasp. Heat burned under her cheeks at her desperation.
Of course every detail of her wants and needs went unnoticed by Joel. Everything about their usual marital customs went off without a hitch, why should he think anything different could happen?
They ate their meal in silence. They cleaned up after themselves, as always. And then they slowly made their way up the stairs, just like they did every night. 
Joel stopped on the landing at the top. Y/N followed his actions. This wasn’t unusual, the same thing happened on every eve of his long departures. He stood, towering above her, she looked up at him with hopeful eyes.
“I’ll be gone before you wake up.” He told her, his voice gruff. She nodded, once. Simple and to the point. Just like always.
Joel nodded back in confirmation and then turned to go, like a captain dismissing his subordinate. It was all very formal. Almost passionless, which was such a great contradiction to what the young woman was feeling inside of her chest. She was just about ready to burst. So even though she wasn’t exactly intending on doing so— she wasn’t surprised when her hand shot out to clasp her fingers around his wrist, stopping him before he disappeared into the secret confines of his bedroom. 
“You okay?” Joel asked, once he was facing her again. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, but that wasn’t the way she wanted him to look at her. She shook her head, but it wasn’t an answer to his question. It was more like she was trying to tell him that that was the wrong thing to ask. Or rather, the wrong thing to do. 
“What’s wrong?” He inquired. 
As it turned out, Joel was not a mind-reader. And since Y/N was too afraid to speak out loud about any of her desires, she did the next thing she could think of. 
Her hands moved to grasp firmly against the lapels of his flannel. The floorboards beneath her creaked as she shifted onto her toes. She pulled Joel closer— closer than he’s ever been. She squeezed her eyes shut— almost like she was terrified when really this was all she wanted— and then before either of them knew it, she slotted her mouth against his own in a fervid kiss.
Joel stilled under the soft touch of her lips, surprised by the action, heart thrumming in his chest as he wondered if this was real. But the hesitation only lasted a split second before he reciprocated her kiss, leaning into her. The eagerness of which had caused their bodies to shift so that Y/N’s back was against the wall. She gasped against his lips, the grip on his shirt loosening.
He pulled away, but only slightly. His nose brushed against hers as he searched her eyes for any protests. He only found her pupils blown out with lust, paired with an indiscernible nod, a concession to keep going. 
In an instant, his large hands were now cupping her face, calluses rough on her skin but she didn’t mind— in fact she relished in it. Her fingers twisted into his shirt once again as he traced her bottom lip with his tongue, pulling another soft gasp from her. He used that to his advantage, slipping his tongue against hers. She whimpered at the taste of him, earning a groan that rumbled deep in Joel’s chest, each of her sweet sounds causing an involuntary twitch from behind the zipper of his pants. 
Joel was becoming more eager, selfish for more of that saccharine sound, his hands started to inch downwards. Smoothing over the curve of her neck, following the path of her shoulders, trailing down her arms, until his hands rested near the small of her back. He pulled her in closer, away from the wall. His fingers clutched onto the fabric of her dress. In a haze, he gathered more and more of the cotton within his hands, unknowingly exposing Y/N’s skin as he did.
She shivered as the back of her thighs met the frigid air, and soon almost the curve of her ass. It brought more attention to the heat that was pooling between her legs— A more intense version of a feeling that she’s only felt a few times before. It was harsh and greedy and it only grew stronger as Joel detached himself from her lips.
A whine spilled over her tongue at the loss, but all was forgiven when he began to press ardent kisses to the skin of her neck. She arched her back into his large frame, bringing notice to her nipples pebbling under the lace of her bra, another moan escaped her lips. He returned the noise with his own grunt of pleasure as his beard scratched against her supple skin. Suddenly she was aware of every single part of him. 
His lips sucking softly at the skin just below her jawline. His flannel-clad chest was strong and solid underneath her hands, heartbeat pulsing into her palms. His own larger hands pulled her closer between every groan that vibrated through his throat. And then there was the hard heat of him pressed against her lower stomach.
The sign of his arousal had caused an ache so deep within her core that it shocked her. It was new and exciting, but it was overwhelming and it made her afraid of the strength that her desires possessed. The burn of shame licked white hot against her skin. 
Joel— unaware of her inner turmoil as his lips kissed against the tendons in her neck— was given quite a shock when her hands pushed him away with surprising strength. He stumbled backwards, back hitting the other wall of the hallway. His eyes were wide and fearful that he did something wrong. Cheeks splotched a pretty color of pink and his lips swollen from her kiss.
Y/N covered her face with her hands, embarrassment and immense arousal caused her shoulders to tremble.
“I’m sorry.” She squeaked between her fingers, “Um, Thank you for… that, but I should…”
She backed away as she spoke, her sentence unfinished as she quickly escaped through the door to her bedroom. It slammed shut, abrasive in the action itself. 
Joel stood with his back flush against the wall and a harsh strain against his zipper as he stared dumbfounded at the wood of her closed door.
~
Her humiliation kept her within the boundaries of her room the entire morning that next day, refusing to step even one foot out into the rest of the house until she knew Joel was gone. The sounds of his footsteps came and went just like they did every time he left for the docks. But Y/N’s dread seemed to have projected itself into the way time moved.
It felt like ages before he was actually gone, almost to the point where it felt like he was dragging his feet, hesitating to go. Like he was waiting for something to happen.
But that couldn’t have been the case, because Joel had his morning routine down to an art. So Y/N was convinced it was her own hallucination that caused time to move at such a snail’s pace.
Once the sound of the front door swinging shut rattled the foundation of their home, Y/N finally allowed herself to breathe. Just his very presence within this house— even separated by walls and other rooms— had such a strong effect on her that she couldn’t let herself recount the events of last night until she was certain she was completely alone. 
And once those images returned to the forefront of her mind, she immediately pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. 
Though that only made the memory of it stronger through the stars that burst behind her eyelids from the hard press of her hands. A frustrated whine escaped her lips as she squirmed in her sheets. The movement of it caused her to take notice of the slick pooling in her panties, ever present since the first touch of Joel’s lips.  
She rubbed her thighs together, trying to relieve some of the ache (though of course her efforts fell flat). 
How was this at all possible? How was Joel able to pull such aggressive lust from just one single heated interaction? 
Maybe it was because no one had ever touched her like that before.
The awkward, clumsy kisses she had shared with others in the past couldn’t hold a candle to what Joel had done to her. Forgotten was the memory of her very first kiss, which was frail and timid like a wounded bird. Or those later in life which were nice and gentle, but nothing special. Those moments of her past were now replaced by a roaring beast of want and desire. Joel had made her feel like the world had shifted on its axis, that he shifted it himself with his own two calloused hands. Just for her. And that was only with the touch of his lips. What else was he capable of doing? 
The sheets rustled under Y/N’s weight as she quickly sat up in bed, regret stirring deep in her belly. She just realized— what with the way she reacted last night— she may never be able to find out. It was such a monumental milestone for their steady forming relationship and she had ended it by pushing him away and leaving him behind in the dark shadows of the hallway. She hadn’t even spared a glance in his direction, his reaction to her abrupt dismissal will remain forever unknown.
Or at least until he returns home.
But that wouldn’t be for another three days. Sure, luck was on the girls side since it was on the shorter side of his usual expeditions. But seventy-two hours left a lot of room for her overactive imagination to run rampant. 
And she was now stewing on the outlandish conclusion that based on her reaction Joel would never want to touch her again. The frustration of that notion followed her throughout her morning.
It prickled at her skin as she stood in the shower, the hot water not doing enough to wash it away. Her skin was practically rubbed raw by the time she stepped out into the steamy bathroom, her hopes to scrub away her humiliation going down the drain, along with the lavender scented soap bubbles. 
It caused her hands to shake, as she tugged the soft green fabric of her favorite dress over her head, the skirt of it swirling around her ankles as it fell into place. Y/N had thought if she wore her favorite clothing item that she might feel better about the whole situation.
But it didn’t help.
In fact, none of the aspects of her usual morning routine had helped her calm her beating heart, or her racing mind, or even the arousal between her legs— that, yes, was still there despite her forcing away any reminder of how it felt to have Joel’s lips on her skin.
She now stood at the kitchen counter, her eyes clenched shut as she begged her brain to conjure up any other image. But that just brought up a confusing mixture of childhood memories intertwined with the heavy sound of Joel’s breathing in her ear. Which made her feel shameful as she felt so much more different than the young restless girl she was back then. Was this the loss of her innocence? She supposed it was.
But then again, she was married to Joel. And these feelings were quite expected for a wife to feel towards her husband. There was no reason for her to feel ashamed by these thoughts, especially if they seemed reciprocated— brought forth by the evidence she felt last night pressing against her stomach.
The reminder brought heat up to her cheeks and that very same ache deep in her core when she had first felt it. 
Y/N breathed in the air around her, dragging it into her lungs, pushing it out in a heavy wistful sigh. A flash of Joel’s hands flitted across her mind. Goosebumps littered her skin as she recalled the way his fingertips felt on the skin between her neck and shoulder. 
Subconsciously she brought her own fingers to that very same spot. Tilting her head, she dragged her fingernails over her skin in slow circles, causing shivers to run up and down the length of her spine. She imagined how Joel’s hand was soon replaced by the soft touch of his lips, and her hand moved to her collarbone, a place she wished he had discovered with his tongue. Another sigh left her lips as her imagination replaced her hand with Joel’s. Her eyes were closed again, softer this time as she conjured up the fantasy.
Lips against skin. Hands wandering. Breathing heavy.
Though the tantalizing image soon vanished into the air like a bubble popping, when the sound of the front door slamming shut rang out through the tiny house. A gasp slipped from between her lips as she whipped around towards the intrusion. Her palm flush against her chest to calm her beating heart.
The sight of Joel standing in the doorway knocked the air out of Y/N’s lungs. It was as if her improper thoughts had manifested him to be standing right there in front of her. The curls of his hair were askew, as if he had been running his fingers through it, over and over. His large chest was heaving with slow heavy breaths, the same way her own chest was moving. 
He swallowed, the adam's apple in his throat bobbing. He shook his head slightly, his brows furrowed, and then he looked back towards the door he just walked through. As if he hadn’t realized where he came from or what he was doing.
“Joel?” She questioned, her tone was breathless, desperate for something to fill the silence and tension that was slowly forming between them.
“’m sorry.” He breathed, when he turned back to her, his eyes shining with something that Y/N couldn’t quite place. Was it surprise? Curiosity? “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”
“What are you doing here?” She asked, somehow feeling brave enough to take a step forward. “I thought you were leaving on your trip?”
“I was— or I am.” He stumbled through the words. “It just got delayed for a couple hours. There were some last minute repairs needed on the ship…”
“And you had enough time to come back?” She questioned.
Joel paused, swallowing again. His eyes scaled over Y/N, taking in the look that resided behind her irises, the way she was breathing heavily, and how that green dress caressed her curves. She looked like she had just been caught in the act of something inappropriate, despite her just standing in the kitchen. An endeavor that was innocent in and of itself. But— god— the look of her, standing there in the golden light streaming in from the window above the sink, she looked downright sinful. Or maybe that was his own lust taking control and projecting itself onto her.
A lust that had kept him on edge this entire morning. Throughout the night too, when he was restless in his bed— remembering what happened between them— tossing and turning like the ocean tide. It never relented, so much so that when Tommy told him they had a few extra hours, Joel’s feet were already moving back towards his truck so that he could spend that time with Y/N. In this house. And even though he told himself to behave when he walked through the front door, It persisted. Even now as he stood in front of her, taking in the sight of her blown out pupils, eyes darkened with what he hoped was that very same lust. 
“I forgot somethin’” He then said, as he realized she was still expecting an answer. “Had to come back to get it.”
“Oh… alright.” She replied, blinking as if she were just pulled from a trance. “What was it? I can help you look for it.”
Joel shook his head, deliberately this time. He took a step forward, the tension growing thicker as he did. His brown eyes held her stare. “I know where it is.”
His words were soft as they rolled off his tongue, causing an involuntary shiver to forge its way through Y/N’s bones. It was much more forceful than what she had felt under her own touch, only a few minutes prior. Joel must have taken notice of the effect that his voice had over her body, as he dragged in a low shuddering breath.
He took another step forward. And then another. And another, until he joined her in the kitchen, standing right in front of her, their chests only centimeters apart. Y/N had to tilt her head up to be able to look him in the eye. Which she was shocked she was brave enough to do, considering how he looked like he wanted to devour her.
“What are you doing?” She whispered, her eyes flicking down to his mouth as Joel dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. The sight of it was magnetic, pulling her in so that her chest was now brushing against his with every breath. 
“Tell me to stop.” He said, his voice in that same hushed tone. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
Y/N, defiant in her own nature, replied. “What was it that you forgot?”
“I didn’t forget anythin’.” Joel told her, honestly, his fingers moving to pinch at a piece of her flowing skirt. As if the small action would keep her right there in front of him. Where he was desperate to have her. Hoping that it would keep her in place instead of having her running away like last time. 
“It’s more like…” He continued, tilting his head down so that his forehead rested against hers. She gasped at the skin contact, relief flooding her form as she quickly realized his touch wasn’t lost to her like she had feared. “Somethin’ I regret not doin’.”
“And what do you regret, Mr. Miller?” She murmured, her eyes averted to the floor beneath their feet. The surname fell out of her mouth unexpectedly, as if garnering his respect would grant her the knowledge of his secret.
“Well, Mrs. Miller…” The reminder that she shared that very surname with him by holy matrimony caused a jolt of surprise to coarse through her veins. But it was replaced with satisfaction soon enough. She marveled at the fact that she wasn’t exactly bothered by the concept, in fact she almost relished in it. And then Joel said his next words.
 “I can show you exactly what that is… if you’ll let me.”
She didn’t have it in her to speak. Any reply that she could’ve had was lost in the back of her throat. All she could do was to nod eagerly, any shame she could’ve had at her desperation was tossed out the window.
“I need you to use your words.” Joel said in response to her movements, his voice hoarse as if he were holding himself back and the action of doing so was terribly difficult. 
“I— Yes… please, Joel.” She whispered, her breath fanning across his cheeks. “I want you to show me.”
This time, Joel was the first to bring their lips together in a zealous kiss. The green fabric that resided between his forefinger and thumb was soon shifted to be gripped by his hands as he pulled her in. Their bodies were now flushed together. The softness of her breasts pushing into the solid form of his chest. Simultaneous sighs of relief intermingled on their tongues when they finally let themselves melt into one another.
Y/N gasped into his mouth when his teeth nipped at the plush skin of her bottom lip. She had already known how brash he was with his movements from their kiss last night, but now it seemed as if all of his inhibitions were lost to him, his hands now smoothing over the curve of her ass. Joel’s fingers gripped at the supple flesh through her dress, pulling her waist into his own. 
She moaned at his touch, as well as the sign of his arousal digging into her hip. Her arms shifted to wrap around his broad shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscles on his back, urging him to move closer, if that were even possible. 
And in this instance, she wasn’t disappointed by the loss of his lips, because he was quick to replace them somewhere else on her skin. It was as if he had to kiss every inch of her before he moved on to undiscovered territory. Joel’s lips were kissing at the corners of her lips, and the apples of her cheeks before he moved down to her jawline. 
Though this was where he became more selfish in his actions, nipping at the skin so he could hear the sweet little whimpers that would waver from between her lips. Then he would lick over the bruised skin, soothing her of the slight pain he might’ve caused, heart hammering at the soft sighs of satisfaction she gifted him. Joel groaned at the sounds she made, relishing in the glory of every moan, whine and sigh. He could feel as he grew harder against the strain of his pants, the pain of it almost too much to bear. But this wasn’t about him. Instead, it had everything to do with the woman arching into his lips.
Thick fingers curled around the square neckline of Y/N’s lovely dress, knuckles brushing against her sternum as he tugged down at the fabric. A sharp gasp rang out into the air as her sleeves slid down her arms, allowing the exposure of her nipples to cold morning air, already hardened by her arousal to the man committing these actions. The flesh of her breasts bouncing slightly from the momentum in which he moved. 
Joel pulled his mouth away from her, eager to get a look.
Y/N could feel herself flush under his stare, suddenly shy as he drank in this new image of her. She wanted to look away and hide in her self-consciousness, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of his dilated pupils and the endearing shade of pink that tinted his cheekbones. A burning need was flashing across his brown irises, the sight of it sparking an odd sense of confidence in the woman. She straightened her shoulders, letting him look at her. Because he would be the only man who would ever get to see her like this. 
He groaned again, at the sight of her perked nipples paired with her newfound boldness.
“S’ pretty.” He mumbled, smoothing a large hand up over her breast, he could feel the pebbled skin pricking into his rough palm. She hummed at the compliment as well as his touch. Though a second later it was replaced with a harsh ‘ah’— pulled from her lips when his hand shifted so that he could pinch at her nipple. 
It was the most torturous form of pleasure she had ever felt in her life. That was until he guided her body until she could feel the kitchen table digging into her lower back. His free hand gripped at the flesh under her ass, lifting her up and making it so that she was now sat against the surface. With her now stationary on the table, he was able to bend over, lips finding purchase on the nipple that wasn’t trapped between his fingers.
A high pitched moan was ripped from her throat as she subconsciously spread her legs, Joel’s hips fitting perfectly in the space between her thighs. Her hand splayed out on the wood behind her as she arched into his tongue that was now currently swirling lazy circles around the sensitive bud. And though she had never done anything like this before, her hips started to move in the only way that seemed natural. The only way that seemed to relieve the ache that pulsed between her legs.
Y/N rolled her hips up into Joel, the hardness of him firm against her clothed center, soaked from her constant arousal since their first kiss. She wondered if she would make a mess of the pants he was wearing, but the thought was fleeting once Joel pulled away from her skin.
“Fuck.” He stammered, resting his forehead in the valley of her breasts, his brown curls tickling her skin.  “D-don’t do that, darlin’.” 
Y/N stilled. “Why? Did I hurt you?”
He laughed breathlessly, the air of it fanning over Y/N’s chest. “No, nothing like that… Just feels t’ good.”
“Oh.” She said, a bit bashfully, but a small smile tugged at her kiss-bruised lips. Pride started to swell deep in her stomach at the admission that she made him feel just as good. And that idea was too precious to pass up on. “Then maybe I should keep doing that.”
She grinded her hips against him again, forcing him to remove himself from her chest, sucking in a harsh breath. His hand shot out, gripping onto the supple flesh of her inner thigh, now exposed as the skirt of her dress had shifted during their hectic movements. 
“Please, sweetheart.” Joel begged, his nails digging into her leg. “You gotta stop.”
“But I wanna make you feel good.” She pouted, hips stilled by the brace he instilled upon her. Joel released a shaky breath, moving his forehead to rest on Y/N’s once more. His gaze was averted to the green fabric bunched up under her breasts, his brown eyes lost to her.
“You have no idea how much I want that— how long I’ve wanted that.” He murmured. “But I came back here for a reason.”
His voice sounded more determined by the end of his sentence. In doing so, it made the woman’s tone that much smaller, but she was still quite the contrarian to his words.
“I thought this was the reason.” She countered, sliding her hand up behind his neck, fingers toying with the curls at the base of his hairline. This time it was him shivering under her touch.
A soft smile curled upon Joel’s lips, he shook his head against her forehead, in slight laughter. “No. It’s close to what I was picturin’... but not quite.”
“Then what were you picturing?” She asked.
Joel leaned back, finally gracing her with the sight of his eyes, He didn’t answer her question, only holding an excruciating form of eye contact with the woman. And then, the once rough fingers that had tugged at her clothing and groped at her flesh were now trailing soft patterns into the skin of her thigh. Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as they started to move closer to the spot between her legs. The ache she felt for him was now burning with great white heat.
Her own hands were gripping in their respective areas, meaning one was tugging at Joel's hair, pulling satisfied groans from his lips, while the other was locked around the edge of the table. Her hips jutted forward by their own accord when his fingertips skirted around the edge of her panties.
“Joel.” She whined, frustrated by his featherlight touch, though strangely enough also reveling in his gentle caress. 
“I know.” He whispered, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “I know… I’ll give you what you want— just let me…”
He splayed his large hand onto her thigh, pushing against it so that she’d spread out wider for him. There was no resistance from her, only eager relinquishment. There was a harsh twitch of his cock at the thought that she would let him do anything with her, along with the idea that her body was all his for the taking. A covet he never thought would come into fruition. 
“Please, Joel.” She urged again, and Joel realized right then that he was just as much hers as she was his. He would do anything for her. His body ached to give her exactly what she wanted. 
So he did.
Y/N gasped when his thumb pressed firmly against the darkened spot on her panties, a similar gasp falling from Joel’s lips when he finally learned how wet she truly was. And it was all for him. 
He moved his digit at an agonizing pace, moving in slow circles around the most sensitive part of her, not even sparing a fleeting touch to the bud of nerves. The torture of it all was exquisite. Y/N’s head fell backwards as she moaned, the tendons of her neck stretched out in front of Joel, the sight of it too enticing for his own good. He leaned forward, touching his lips against her skin. 
Now having to focus on two things at once, his movements against her core became sloppy, and his touch harshened, slipping over Y/N’s clit. An embarrassing squeal forced its way from her throat as she jutted her hips fiercely into Joel’s thumb. He grinned against her skin.
“Oh, you liked that, didn't you?” He chuckled, placing more kisses down her neck, his beard scratching her skin as he moved. Y/N had a response to his teasing tone, perhaps it was even quick-witted, but it was stolen from her lips and replaced with another desperate moan when his tongue swirled around her nipple.
It was all becoming too much with every tiny ministration he committed on her skin. She felt as though she could burst into flames. Little did she know that it would all come to a head when Joel would kiss his way down her body, heavy knees dropping to the floor. There was no patience left within him when he practically ripped Y/N’s panties off of her body, hands roughly pushing her thighs apart.
“J-Joel, what are you doing?” She questioned, forearms braced against the table, being pushed back further up the furniture as Joel started nipping at her inner thigh, goosebumps following in his wake
“‘m doin’ what I came here for.” He mumbled into her skin, teeth grazing the malleable flesh. She was about to ask exactly what that might be, but the question was answered when he licked a long stripe through her slick folds.
Curses tumbled out of Y/N’s lips as he used his mouth on her. Never in a million years would she imagine that he would do something so… obscene. And she never would have anticipated how much she loved it. Her eyes were wide as she marveled at the sight of him. His brown eyes were staring back up at her from over her mound, drinking in every little reaction he spurred from her. His hair was wild, the look of it brought on by Y/N’s fingers as she ran them through the tendrils, forcing him closer and closer. And then there were the noises of him slurping and groaning and relishing in the taste of her. 
At the beginning, Joel was slow with his actions, his tongue going up and down the length of her slit. Again he would frustratingly avoid touching her clit, tracing big circles around the bud, building up anticipation deep in Y/N’s stomach. But as he continued, every so often he would flick over it pulling more whimpers from Y/N’s throat. He would moan against her folds in satisfaction, the vocalizations causing slight vibrations to run through her entire form. 
Y/N’s head fell with a soft thump against the table, her back arching up into the air, squirming under Joel’s actions. A hand snaked up from Y/N’s thigh, placing itself on her sternum. His palm was rough against the skin between her bare breasts, holding her down and keeping her in place. 
Finally, seemingly deciding that the woman had been through enough torture, Joel wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking on it harshly. She all but screamed at this new sensation overcoming her, her right leg slipping over his left shoulder, unknowingly trapping him in place. They were locked in a heated tryst, his hand still braced on her chest, her calf pushing into his back and Joel’s mouth and tongue were still unrelenting. 
She couldn’t help but to twist her fingers into his hair, tugging him closer against her cunt, she grinded her hips into his face, any tribulations that she might be hurting him lost in her pleasure. But if only she knew how much Joel adored her desperate nature as she chased after her high on his tongue. In fact he had never been this hard in his life. He could feel himself dripping inside of his pants, making a mess of his boxers as precum spilled from his tip with every twitch of his cock. His hips were thrusting into the air beneath the table in his own desperation. The seam of his zipper was rubbing firmly against the length of him. Joel honestly would not be surprised if he ended up cumming without even having to touch himself.
And as it turned out, eventually he would.
Joel’s name was now falling freely from between Y/N’s lips in broken fragments. The movements of her hips were becoming clumsy, stuttering as Joel continued to lick at her clit, groaning everytime she pulled at his hair. The heat burning low in her stomach began to grow hotter and more incessant. And with one more deliberate move of Joel’s tongue against her clit, it all began to burst.
The sight of Y/N cumming was the prettiest thing Joel had ever seen. Her head was thrust back against the table, supple lips drawn open as more of her moans escaped into the air, along with the sound of his name. Her whole body was tensing and shaking as the waves of her orgasm washed over her body. Joel’s mouth was ruthless on her cunt, drinking anything she had to offer him as the proof of her orgasm splashed over his tongue. The sight of her, as well as the taste of her, was all too much to bear as his own hips involuntarily jutted into nothing, the confines of his pants working against him in a way that had him finishing. He shuddered at the sensation, his shoulders trembling as he could feel his own cum spill into the fabric of his underwear. He whimpered into Y/N’s cunt, breathing sharply out of his nose, still trying to coax her down from her own orgasm as her body became limp and her breathing heavy, until finally everything started to slow down. 
Searching hands groped around until they finally found purchase on Joel’s shoulders. She tugged at his shirt, forcing him away from her oversensitive core and out from between her legs. 
She was met with eyes blown out with lust and a fading orgasm, red lips parted in amazement and beard shining with her cum. His clothes were askew and his brown curls were all over the place. He looked completely out of it. Though she probably couldn’t say she was much better.
And Joel admired the image of it as he stood above her. She blinked up at him, leaning back on her elbows, a look of pure wonderment painting her features. Her green dress was bunched around her middle, nipples still perked in the cool air of the kitchen, her chest stuttering with every breath. He smiled softly at her, leaning to snake a hand around her waist, pulling her up into a sitting position, her hands instinctively looping around his broad shoulders.
“You alright?” He asked gently as he stood her on shaking legs, the skirt of her dress now falling back in place. She shivered when she felt the touch of his knuckles on her chest once again as he shifted the top of her dress back in its proper position.
“I—  um… yeah.” She said breathlessly, words lost to her in her post-orgasmic state. Joel couldn’t help but grin at her flustered demeanor, bringing a hand up to her cheek. She was grateful for his touch, leaning into his hand as he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to her lips causing Y/N to taste herself upon his skin.
“Did you… get what you were looking for?” Y/N questioned, once they pulled apart. Earning soft laughter deep from within Joel’s chest. The sound of it quirking up the corners of Y/N’s lips in a shy smile, pride swelling in her belly since she was the one who caused it.
“That I did, sweetheart.” He smiled, running a hand over her hair, his eyes sparking with contentment. Her shy smile morphed into that of a bright grin, pulling him back in towards her to share a deeper kiss. He groaned into her lips, unexpected for the both of them as another surge of lust sparked between them, seemingly unsatisfied by what they had just finished. She whimpered back into his mouth as tongues started probing and teeth nipping once again. At a particularly boisterous moan from Y/N, Joel had to pull away. 
“W-wait.” He breathed, “I— We can’t, we don’t have time. I have to go back.”
Y/N deflated at his words, but ultimately nodded her head in understanding. She took a step back from him, needing the distance to quell her need to melt into him once more. Though Joel’s fingers quickly wrapped around her own, stopping her from moving away any further.
“You’ll still be here when I get back, yeah?” He asked, the question causing Y/N’s heart to drop down to her stomach. As she looked at him she found insecurities scrawled across his features. Maybe she hadn’t done enough to convince him that she wasn’t going anywhere. Or perhaps this was leftover from pain he endured in the past. She brought his hand up, brushing her lips across his knuckles in a sweet kiss, and then covered that spot with her free hand.
“I promise.” She whispered, her gaze locked on his searching eyes, flickering over her features, trying to find the truth. When he found nothing but her earnest smile he felt brave enough to go, but not before leaving her with one more breathless kiss. 
Y/N had watched silently as he got ready to leave, washing his face with the bar of hand soap left on the side of the kitchen sink. She didn’t say anything as he readjusted his clothes and threw his bag over his shoulder. And she didn’t beg him to stay when he finally placed that final kiss upon her lips. All she did was sink further and further into the throes of missing him, despite the fact that he was right in front of her.
It only grew stronger as he whispered more promises of continuing when he returned three days later. She held onto that promise, close to her chest like a dying flame, watching as the view of his truck disappeared over the horizon. 
She prayed to the gods above that time would fly quickly.
Though perhaps she should’ve been praying for something else entirely. 
Because later that night and hundreds of miles out from the shoreline, a little ship bobbed at sea. The workers on deck scrambled in preparation. Worry stiffened their brows. Prayers to Poseidon fell from their lips. A soft pattern of rain began to sprinkle over their heads, it was unassuming in its very nature. But that was just the first sign of the oncoming danger as they headed into the eye of the storm. 
Three days came and went.
Joel had yet to return home. 
Y/N knew that the life of a fisherman was dangerous and unpredictable, she had heard many stories, most of which when she was younger, whispered to her by her classmates as they relayed the most gory details from the sad news of a shipwreck. Some were overheard at the local pub, traumatic events recounted around a bottle of brandy as fishermen tried to top each other's stories.
Frankly, these stories hardly bothered the young woman like it did to others in town. She couldn’t indulge in the disturbance of it all because the way these stories were told, relayed like an unattainable fairytale. It was all folklore in her mind. She was certain that nothing like that could ever affect any aspect of her life.
She was eating her words now. 
It was on the sixth day that Joel was gone when she heard that it was a storm that delayed their ship, knocking it off its course.
The information was brought to her front doorstep by her very own father, who in his old age made the trek across the island to do so. This left Y/N’s stomach unsettled, for he would never go to such great lengths unless something truly terrible had occurred. 
She was reminded of the day her mother died. He adorned the same face that painted his features now. Eyes downcasted, lower lip trembling, hands twisting around his patched cap. He was sitting on one of the wooden chairs strewn around the kitchen table. Y/N was leaned up against the counter, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“We didn’t get the message until early this morning. Radio was down, they barely got it  workin’ when they reached us...” He said quietly, to the toes of his boots.
“And?” Y/N urged, knowing her father had more to say.
“They lost a few men.” He said quickly, as if he couldn’t stand to have the words left on his tongue. Y/N sucked in a breath. She turned around, facing the window over the sink. She braced her palms on the counter, vision blurring as tears pricked the corner of her eyes.
“Did they say who?” She asked, words choked between her tightening vocal cords, constricting from her tears.
“No, couldn’t keep the signal for long enough.” He murmured, she could hear him stand, the legs of the chair squeaking against the tile. “But they did say they’ll be returning by this evening.”
Y/N whipped around at that, her features twisted in vexation. The lead buried so much deeper than it needed to be. She would have to keep her annoyance left unsaid, however, as now there was no time to waste. 
She brushed past her father hastily, ignoring the way her name was called after her as she staggered around the living room, clumsy in the way she tugged her boots over her feet. Her jacket was long forgotten on the hook by the door as she hurried outside, the thought of it only coming once the cool winds whipped at her exposed arms and cheeks. But she wouldn’t turn back for it. Her adrenaline kept her warm, anyways.
It was a two hour walk to get to the docks. Beads of sweat ran down her spine, blisters pinched at the heels of her feet, her breathing was labored as she pushed her anxiety out of her lungs. Though none of that mattered. All she knew was that she had to get to the docks. She had to get to him. If he was even there…
She swiped angrily at the tears that now carved pathways down the skin of her cheeks. Never in her life had she ever been able to keep her emotions at bay, she was always willing to scream at the sky and cry til her throat was raw. That fact was unchanging even as she grew older. So she let her tears fall. They didn’t distract from her current mission, anyhow. Her eyes were set on the small town that appeared over the horizon. 
The whole town congregated at the docks. Passersby stood on the cobblestone streets, their inherent nosiness ill-concealed by their feigned looks of concern. Whispers flitted between them as if this were all just a dramatized show to keep them entertained. Y/N let no apologies slip through her lips as she pushed her way through them, knocking into their shoulders and earning glares as she did. 
When her footsteps rang out on the wood of the dock that's when she was surrounded by the people like her. Family members worried for their loved ones lost at sea. They all stood silently as their eyes were set towards the ocean, hands clutched in prayer, whispering hopes that it wasn’t their spouse, parent or child who lost their life to an unrelenting sea. Y/N was too impatient to do the same. She just stood and waited for any kind of sign that Joel would be home soon.
It came only thirty minutes later. When a small boy at the front of the dock screeched in anticipation, pointing out a small dot wavering in the distance. Y/N’s stomach swooped down in a mixture of hope and apprehension. She was terrified to learn the truth of what happened.
But twenty minutes after that, the truth had arrived as the ship pulled in with the tide. Everyone advanced closer to where the fisherman would eventually unboard. Y/N stayed behind, her feet frozen to where she stood. Maybe she was trying to delay the inevitable. 
Relieved cries and overjoyed calling of names soon swirled into the evening air as loved ones were reunited. Warm embraces and fervent kisses were exchanged between them. But it was all backtracked by the ones who received news of a death, heartbreaking wails mixing in with the sound of reunion.
It was an unsettling cacophony of sounds. The way love and loss intertwined within one another. Two sides of the same coin. And Y/N still had yet to know which one she was on. 
Her hands were shaking. Her sight was restricted by the many heads that stood in front of her. She scanned each face, none of them holding the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to. Her stomach sank deeper and deeper, her throat started to constrict again, a sob threatened to burst out from between her trembling lips.
She couldn’t hold it back once she registered a mess of brown and gray curls making its way through the crowd. The sob released itself, though not in anguish as she had thought, it was instead paired with the most intense form of relief she had ever known. Her feet started to move by their own accord.
His name fell desperately from her lips. 
Joel stilled once he heard the sound of it. Brown eyes wild as he searched frantically for where it was coming from. When they found her through a split in the crowd, Y/N was met with the same look of relief she knew was apparent within her own irises. 
His stride lengthened as he worked fast to cut the distance between them. As she drew nearer, he registered the tear stains on her supple skin, fresh ones following the same path. His heart lurched at the sight, the overwhelming need to hold her burning his skin. Burning hotter as she drew nearer. Setting him ablaze when she was right in front of him. 
He tossed his bag to the side in favor of wrapping his arms around her. He relished in the way she sank into his arms, curling into his chest. He felt how her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, beating in the same pattern as his own. Joel held onto her even tighter.
“You scared the hell out of me.” She cried, tone muffled by his cable knit sweater as she hid her face in his warmth. A large hand smoothed over the back of her head, bringing her in even closer if that was even possible. His nose dropped down into her hair, the scent of her invading his senses, comforting him. He was back home. Safe. And she was here waiting for him. 
“I know, baby, I’m sorry.” He murmured, the nickname falling freely in his solace. 
She didn’t seem to mind. 
They returned home just as the sun dipped below the horizon, losing the orange hues of the sunset to a dark velvet sky littered with stars. The journey was much easier on the way back now that they had Joel’s old truck that was waiting for him down by the docks. As well as the fact that the reassurance of Joel’s return replaced the heavy feeling of fear that had haunted Y/N for the past three days.
They were greeted by a homemade meal, left behind by Y/N’s father. A gift either of consolation or celebration. She was grateful it was the latter. 
And once their bellies were full and the pain of the day was washed away in soothing streams of hot water, the two of them stood in the hallway once again. Y/N was unsure of what to do. Less than a week ago they had crossed a boundary she hadn’t even dreamed of. Now they were standing at the precipice of something even greater. And since Joel was safe at home once again, the anticipation to act on it was dripping from the walls. 
Was she ready for such a feat? Was Joel expecting something like this to happen? Nerves brought a tremor to her hands. 
Meanwhile, Joel could feel the tips of his ears burning at the memory of what happened the last time they were alone together. Her moans had him weak in the knees, her skin was soft to the touch, things he only knew since Y/N had made the first move in this very hallway. A bolder woman than what stood in front of him now, as her eyes stayed glued to the floor, her breathing fragmented from timidity.
His gaze softened as he took in the sight of her.
“I don’t know what you’re expectin’ to happen...” He breathed, a soft smile turning up the corners of his mouth, “But I can assure you it’s not what you’re thinkin’...”
Y/N’s eyes flickered up at the teasing lilt to his words. She was met with a mischievous gleam in those brown eyes as he repeated the very first thing she ever said to him. She couldn’t help her own grin that bloomed across her lips. 
At her smile, he felt brave enough to bring a hand up to her cheek. 
“You have nothing to worry about, darlin’” He then murmured, stroking his thumb over the soft skin. She leaned in his touch, peering up at him through her lashes. “We don’t have to do anythin’.”
“I want to.” She whispered back, her words causing his breath to hitch in his throat. “Eventually… but tonight…”
He nodded, removing his touch from her face. “I understand.”
The floorboards creaked as he took a step back. But surprise shot up his spine when she moved to clutch his fallen hand with both of her own. 
“But tonight could you just lay with me?” She quickly added.
She looked up at him expectantly, the plush of her bottom lip dragged between her teeth. He let out a low labored breath.
“Y-yeah.” He nodded, the word weak on his tongue. He was afraid that if he spoke any louder he might scare her off. Though the grip of her fingers locked around his palm proved to him that she was there to stay. A reassurance he was always grateful for. 
Y/N tugged at his hand, urging him to follow as she guided their way into her bedroom. It was an odd choice, considering the master bedroom was just right there and the bed was bigger. But to be invited into her private sanctuary was an opportunity he would never pass on. So his feet followed eagerly.
It was dark in the room when they entered and it stayed that way as no one made a move to turn on the light. Unfortunately, what she had done to make the bedroom her own was lost to his eyes, but that regret was soon forgotten as he heard the squeak of mattress springs and the shuffling of blankets.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found Y/N’s form on the bed in front of him, he stood on the side, basking in the glory of this moment. 
“Come here.” Her whisper found him through the dark. His stomach swooped at the sultry sound of her voice. But he ignored any provocative thoughts that wormed its way into his brain. Instead, he obeyed her command, the mattress dipping as he slid under the covers beside her.
In an instant, his senses were invaded by her scent as well as her warmth. There was only an inch or two of distance between them. Both lying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
A sharp intake of breath rang out from Joel when the touch of her fingertips smoothed over his open palm in the space between them. Naturally, his own digits curled around hers. He heard as she sighed happily from his reciprocation. 
And somehow— despite how fast his heartbeat was when he had her writhing under his tongue only a few days prior, it was nothing compared to the small gentle act of holding her hand.
~
Joel was up before the sun.
As was the case every morning, since his body's internal clock was intune with the demanding schedule his occupation thrusted upon him. So he was used to opening his eyes to a darkened world, not yet warmed by rays of sunlight.
Though today was slightly different. He wasn’t woken by the natural fluttering of his eyelids as his dreams from that night slipped away; Instead it was the press of another person’s form against his body, an arm draped over his torso, legs intertwined between his own, head resting on his chest.
He stiffened once he remembered where he was and who it was.
Y/N.
She was warm through the fabric of their pajamas. So much so that Joel didn’t even miss the warmth of the sun like he usually did during these dark and frigid mornings. A deep contented sigh pushed through the structure of his chest, Y/N’s head moving in time with his breathing. The movement elicited a small whine from her lips.
The sound had his heart racing yet again, reminding him of the other noises she was capable of making.
Those noises had been replaying over and over in Joel’s mind ever since he was blessed to hear them— even better, to create them with the touch of his own hands and lips. He brought the memory with him when he was on that small boat, miles out at sea, restless in his cot as he ached to return home to her. 
When they were caught in the throes of that storm all he could think about was her. The drive of it kept him alive throughout the chaos. 
Now here he was, sharing in her warmth, despite the awkward navigation of their newfound forms of intimacy. Anticipation surged through his muscles, pulling away the last dregs of sleep that had plagued his limbs. 
Joel cursed under his breath as something else began to stir to life. 
This was a young man's game. He was in over his head with the feelings she evoked from him. Never in his life had he experienced anything quite like this. The way every part of his body begged for every part of hers. Everything he’d felt for those before her was just a crude imitation of what he felt for her at this very moment. It was almost an insult to compare. Nothing could ever compare..
And he had no idea what he was supposed to do. 
Which was funny. Because this woman was his wife. She was the one person he should feel this for. But with the way they had started Joel wasn’t sure what he was allowed to take what he wanted. Was he allowed to be selfish the way he wanted to? Everything surrounding the two of them was delicate. And Joel was terrified of breaking it with his large and clumsy hands.  
For now he would just have to hold himself back. Be gentle in the way that he navigated this unknown territory. Which meant he had to do the hardest thing in the world. 
He had to get out of this bed. 
Slowly and cautiously he detangled his limbs from the woman beside him. He trained his eyes on her face, searching for any sign that his movements were waking her up. The line between her eyebrows showed itself when her cheek lost the firm foundation of his chest, but that— and a few incoherent mumbles— was all that occurred as he slipped himself out of her bed. Luckily, she seemed to be a sound sleeper as she curled up into herself without Joel’s warmth. 
Joel stood above her, almost caught in a trance from how disgruntled she looked now that he was gone, proof of the effect he had on her as well. A small smile danced on his lips. And then he allowed himself one indulgence as he leaned over to brush a faint kiss over her forehead. He felt her features smooth under his lips, seemingly content with his departing gift.
~
To wake up alone in a cold empty bed was not what Y/N had expected that morning. There were a few instances during the night, when her dreams took a pause that she would wake up, eyes blinking in the dark. And she quickly grew accustomed to the strong presence that Joel was. The soft steady sound of his snores was a comfort to the girl’s ears as they rumbled through his chest. At some point in the night his strong arms had encircled around her waist, pulling her into his warmth.
That very same warmth, having been taken away from her, was now sorely missed. She stretched an arm out over the expanse of her bed, fingers groping at where Joel once lay. 
She supposed she should’ve expected to wake up like this, considering how early he left every morning. But she would have thought she would’ve woken up when the time came. At least long enough to spare a goodbye before he headed off to work. 
Disappointment sat heavy over her form like a stormy rain cloud. Y/N tried not to dwell on it, but as always her feelings were too strong to contain, so throughout the whole rest of the day she moved about the house wistful in demeanor. Yearning for Joel despite the fact he would be home in a few hours time. 
Was this usually how it happened when you start to feel this way towards someone? Like your whole world stops turning when they aren’t near? Whatever the case, she knew that these feelings were not to be taken lightly. There was a rarity to them that made her heart much more precious to the woman. She felt like she needed to keep it safe, deep in her pocket where no harm would find it, and no one would be able to see the extremities of her feelings.
And that’s where she kept it as her restless feet wandered into town. 
But as she walked, something funny happened. Everywhere she looked, everything seemed so much brighter. The people who passed her by greeted her with warm ‘hello’s’ and ‘how are you’s’. Kids were laughing as they played in the street, laughing. There were lovers in front of shops holding hands and exchanging stolen kisses. Birds were singing. The sun was… shining? Everything that used to be dreary about the island, everything that Y/N hated, had somehow flipped to be the exact opposite of what it used to be. Or perhaps… it had always been like this and she just hadn’t noticed, too caught up in her own pretension and desperate need to escape. 
Perhaps this island really did live up to its name.
Why was it that she had just noticed this now? What had changed?
She thought of her beating heart, hidden in her deepest pocket. And then froze in her tracks. 
She was reminded of something. Something she had only heard in the old sea-shanties her father used to sing while he cooked. In the stories her mother used to whisper to her at bedtime. And that used to worm her way into her dreams late at night, planting the idea that she had to escape in the first place. She had to go find it. 
It was love.
And it hit her like a ton of bricks. 
Well, not the love part, that made sense to her as the loose ends were finally tied together. What surprised her the most was that she didn’t have to travel to the furthest reaches of the earth to find it. It had been on this very island the whole entire time. And it was fated to be shared with the man she was hell-bent against marrying. 
Incredulous laughter began to bubble out of her throat. So much so that she had to brace herself on her knees as she gasped for air. She was definitely living up to her reputation as the crazy woman, earning strange glances from passersby. But she didn’t care. She never cared. All she really cared about was burning passionate love, that’s what she had been yearning for all her life. And she was almost too stupid to realize that it was right under her nose.
Gong! Gong! Gong! Gong! Gong!
The clocktower in town was chiming at the start of the new hour. Five o’clock… It pulled Y/N out of her unexpected fit of laughter. Joel would be on his way home right at this very moment. And without thinking twice, the woman began to run.
~
Joel returned to an empty house. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as there were some days Y/N would be out in the garden, lounging on the porch swing she loved oh-so much, having lost track of time. He would always find her, caught in the middle of a fascinating passage, one she couldn’t tear her eyes from. The idea of dinner would not have crossed her mind, as it was often lost in the clouds.
He never minded that, though. In fact, he quite liked finding her like that because then it meant that he would get the chance to be by her side while they made their meal together. And he also couldn’t lie about the fact that he enjoyed seeing the image of her, so carefree, with her knees tucked beneath her, skin glowing underneath the evening sun. He would always take a moment to stop and watch her, drinking in the sight of her peace before having to force her out of it.
A small smile spread across his lips at the thought he’d catch her like that now. His heavy footfalls rang out into the quiet household as he crossed the floor towards the back door. His anticipation flickered deep in his stomach once more, excited to see her.
But he was left in disappointment and slight worry when he was greeted with the sight of an empty porch swing. It looked so much sadder without her presence, the loss of her making obvious the peeling white paint and rusted chains that made the furniture what it was. Lackluster without her. A feeling now all too familiar to Joel as he searched the rest of the house, finding empty room after empty room.
He had seen this before. Lived through it. Deja vu in the form of his ex wife whittled its way into his brain. He recalled the day he found her missing. How he felt when he realized she wasn’t coming back. This was so much worse. Because now it was Y/N.
The woman he had unexpectedly fallen for, head over heels. The woman who promised him she wouldn’t do the same and that she would stay right here with him in this house.
It must’ve been too much to ask for. Joel must have wanted too much. Taken too much. She must have come to her senses and realized the potential she was wasting in a marriage with an old man like him. Dread was quick to overtake him, he knew that much. But he had never been a lucky man. Everything he ever loved was always lost to him. Why would anything change now?
Joel found himself sitting on the front step of his porch, head clutched in his hands. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that brought him out there. Maybe he needed the fresh air to rid the panic in his lungs. Or maybe it was that flicker of hope that still burned within his heart. Maybe she would return home to him. If his hopes weren’t for nothing.
“Joel?”
His head snapped up to find Y/N standing in front of him. She was out of breath, a sheen of sweat covering her skin, causing her to glow brighter than she usually did. Her irises sparked with worry as she took in the sight of his hunched form on the porch. Though once he registered that she was really there, standing in front of him, he shot to his feet.
“Y/N.” He replied, his voice riddled with a confusing tone of surprised awe, eyes thick with relief. The girl’s brows furrowed. He took the remaining two steps down to where she stood, his hands bracing themselves on her shoulders.
“Where were you?” He questioned, somewhat angrily, though through that she could see a form of desperation hiding behind it all.
“I’m sorry I was— I just came from town.” She answered, having not yet fully caught her breath, the words were hushed between her overworked lungs. 
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He practically begged out the question. “I could’ve brought you home.”
“I’m sorry.” She said earnestly, wrapping her fingers around his wrists. “I didn’t think of it. I was in a hurry to get back.”
“Why?” 
She looked down at the ground between their feet, the distance between them small, soon to become even smaller, she was sure. A bashful smile crept up onto her lips. 
“I wanted to see you.” She murmured, eyes still averted as a slight heat pinched at her cheeks. Somehow it was much harder to face him, now that she had put a name to what she had been feeling.
Surprise stiffened her shoulders when Joel let out a harsh breath of relief, his head dropping into the crook of her neck, arms looping around her waist. She soon softened under his embrace, her fingers tangling within his sea-breeze tangled hair. 
“I thought you left.” He mumbled into her skin. Y/N’s stomach dropped at the hidden fear behind his words. She now understood completely where this strange new demeanor was coming from. She quickly shook her head, knowing Joel felt as she did when her cheekbone brushed against his ear in time with the movement.
“No.” She whispered. “No, I would never.”
His hold on her tightened with the words spoken. Y/N smoothed her hand over the back of his head, hoping it brought some form of comfort to the man.  As his shoulders began to relax, she knew that it did. She continued her reassurance.
“I’m sorry.” Y/N tilted her head towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should’ve come down to the docks.”
“Why didn’t you?” He asked, pulling back from his hiding spot, eyes searching for the answer. 
Y/N drew in a deep breath, the heat in her cheeks burning fiercer than before. She averted her gaze towards the gravel pathway, taking a step back so that possibly she could find her words within the created distance. Nerves, fairly quickly, took over her form.
“Well… to start, I think— pretty early on in our marriage you must have realized that I wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the whole ordeal.” She rambled as she began to pace, wild with her movements the way she was erratic with her words.
Joel opened his mouth to confirm, but she was speaking so fast that he never had the chance. So he watched on, almost incredulously, eyes following her as she paced back and forth in front of him, avoiding his gaze.
“I mean… I don’t think you were totally happy with it either, considering how we were at the beginning… —Anyways, none of that matters now.” Y/N waved her arms, trying to get rid of any more unnecessary words.
“The reason I was so unhappy— at first— was because I was so desperate to fall in love.” She continued, the last word ringing familiar in Joels ear. A smile perked up the corners of his mouth as realization dawned on him, patiently waiting for the girl to finish her rant.
“And I didn’t think an arranged marriage could have any possibility of that.” Y/N glanced quickly over at Joel, finding him nodding along in exaggerated understanding, strong arms crossed over his chest.
“But then a funny thing happened, when I was walking into town and I suddenly realized…” She stopped moving, facing the man head on as she said her peace. “I think I may be in love with you— No… I know that I’m in love with you.”
As he considered her— standing in front of him, with begging eyes and shaking hands— he bit back a brighter grin. With this onslaught of information he wasn’t exactly sure how he should say what he wanted to say. If the girl would even give him the chance to do so.
“And that’s why I didn’t meet you at the docks.” Y/N finished, quite lamely, hands raised out from her sides as if offering him the floor. Though, her arms flopped back down to their original position quickly after.
“So…” Joel started slowly, killing the woman with every second his pause dragged out. “You didn’t come to the docks… because you’re in love with me?”
“It would seem so.” She confirmed, her voice small with apprehension. “Do you have anything to say on the matter?”
“Just one thing.” He breathed, before taking a step forward, he looped an arm around her waist pulling her against him. A gasp fell from her lips at the eagerness in this action, her hands impulsively landing on his chest. Joel's other hand moved to rest on the side of her face, guiding her lips to slot against his in a deep-seated kiss. 
It was as if the entirety of her being were in her lips, like there was nothing else in the world as he pressed soft kisses to the plush skin. Kisses that somehow conveyed the entire range of how he felt towards her. The passion showed itself as he nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth. The tenderness shown in the gentle caress of his tongue. The love being presented as he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, it shining in the deep brown of his eyes.
“I love you too.” He confirmed what she saw within his irises, her heart swelling that she wasn’t on her own in feeling this way.
“I didn’t realize that’s what it was until I thought you were gone.” He told her, “I think I might’ve…”
His words trailed off, replaced with a deep breath as he pulled her in closer, as if making sure she was really there in his arms.
“I think I might’ve felt this way for a really long time.” He ended. Y/N smiled warmly up at him, tilting her head to brush her nose against his own.
“Me too.”
And neither one of them really knew exactly when that could have been. Perhaps it was the very first time they laid eyes on each other. Or during one of their many shared meals as they sat across from one another in comfortable silence. Or the distance that kept them apart by raging seas. Maybe it shifted with the constant storms that would rain down over their house. Or maybe it was written in the stars, destined to happen. Whatever the case, it didn’t really matter to them now as they melted back into each other, lips crashing in a great crescendo portraying exactly the burning passion this island was supposed to be known for. 
Their next movements were like a white blinding light as they forged through the front door of their home, shoes left behind,— the excitement that should’ve been present on their wedding night was now following them through the living room and up the creaky stairs. Y/N’s grip on Joel’s hand was strong as she pulled him down the hallway towards the master bedroom, but she still wasn’t strong enough to keep him moving when he stopped abruptly. She turned to face him.
“Wh—?” Her question was interrupted when he pressed her against the wall, his lips finding hers once more. A small squeak of surprise from the young woman was muffled by Joel’s kiss, swallowing it down. His hands were firm on her waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt. Her skin was hot to the touch. 
“Joel.” She moaned against his lips, the touch of his thumb rubbing slow circles into her skin sending bolts of electricity straight to her toes.
His name sounding like that coming from her was enough to have Joel’s entire being on fire. He could feel himself harden with every moan she gifted him, as well as his resolve weakening, patience wearing thin. 
Shifting his grip, his hands were now clutching at the back of Y/N’s bare thighs (since she had miraculously had the good sense to wear shorts today). On instinct, using the leverage of Joel’s grasp, she jumped into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. The momentum of their bodies coming together had Joel stumbling backwards, back hitting the other wall. The artwork hanging on aging nails rattled in their frames, threatening to crash to the floor as they shook from the collision. Neither husband or wife paid this any mind as they clutched onto each other, lips still vehemently attached, moans and grunts being traded within their kiss.
Soon, Joel’s feet were moving once again, carrying Y/N over the threshold of his bedroom. Like a man was supposed to do with his bride, finally given the chance to do so. Though his grip almost slackened when she pulled her lips away from his, replacing them on the skin below his ear. He cursed under his breath as she began to suckle against a sweet spot he never even knew existed. 
Against all odds, he made it to the bed, falling backwards against the plush surface, springs squeaking under their combined weight. Y/N was not at all deterred by this new position, her forearms bracing themselves on either side of Joel's head as she kissed her way down his neck, hoping she was even half as good as Joel was at this sort of thing. 
She supposed she wasn’t half bad as his breathing was soon labored under the touch of her lips, thick fingers twisting into the fabric of her shirt. She smiled against his skin, especially so when she finally lowered her hips down over his own, the sign of his enjoyment pressing harshly into her inner thigh. Y/N rolled her hips into him, hoping for that very same reaction she had gotten the first time she did this. With no surprise at all, she prevailed.
“Shit—.” He hissed, hands darting to grip at her hips. “Wait.” 
Somehow he was strong enough to still her movements. Or maybe Y/N couldn’t help but obey the words said by this man. In either case, time began to slow down, their frantic movements ceasing. Y/N pushed up on her hands, sitting back on her heels so that she could meet his gaze. Joel’s hands found their home on the skin of her thighs, thumbs instinctively rubbing those soothing circles once again.
He drew in a breath, staring up at her with soft brown eyes. “Have you ever done this before?”
A shy look flitted across the woman's pretty features, her bashful smile weakened as her bottom lip was tugged between her lips. She shook her head, eyes trained to the top button of Joel’s shirt.
He swallowed against a newly dry throat as he realized she was willing to give him everything. Pink swelling up into his cheeks when his cock convulsed at the thought. Surely she had to have felt that, the gasp slipping from her lips proving that she did.  
“I… I don’t wanna rush you into doing anything you’re not ready for.” Joel murmured, “We can take it as slow as you need.”
Y/N offered him a sweet smile at his words, her fingers toying with that button she had her eye on. They were trembling slightly, not out of fear but instead a steady form of anticipation.
“We’ve been married for almost a year now.” She responded, her tone soft. “I think we’ve taken it slow enough.” 
“Alright then.” Joel responded in that same tone, a small smile matching her own, his heart lurching at what was to come next. 
And he could have easily slipped back into the pace they had set when they had crashed into the room. His desires were certainly begging him to do so. But this was their first time indulging in this act as a married couple— her first time at all. So despite the protests of his aching body, Joel would take his time, offer every part of himself to her and hope she would offer the same. 
He smoothed his hand up her thigh, carving his way up to rest his fingers behind her ear, thumb against her cheek. Without much force at all, he guided her gently until their lips were touching once again, this time in a slower kiss. She relaxed against him, chest resting on his. A small whimper escaped the back of her throat at the tenderness of it all.
The small noise spurred Joel into rolling Y/N onto her back, flipping the preexisting roles, covering her with the shadow of his form. His hands were braced on the plush surface beside her head, holding his weight above her. His knee was positioned between her thighs. She was a whimpering mess, grinding up into him, desperate to relieve the ache between her legs. Joel couldn’t help the smirk that appeared over his lips. The bold woman who was kissing down his neck just a mere few minutes ago was long gone. A dark part of him took pleasure at the sight of her like this, desperate for him. It didn’t help how pretty she was splayed underneath him, eyes darkened with lust, bottom lip trembling, hips rutting towards the thigh that was too far away from where she wanted him.
He wouldn’t give it to her. Not yet at least. He was going to take his time. He set his hand against her hip, forcing her to stop her movements, holding her in place.
Lowering himself towards her, he brushed his lips across Y/N’s in a quick kiss. He placed another on the apple of her cheek. Another on her temple. And again at the corner of her mouth. He was moving so slow that she could feel the flutter of his eyelashes tickling her skin. She sighed at each kiss, relishing in his attentiveness. 
She was cold when he removed himself from her, standing up at the side of the bed. Even more so when his hands lifted the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. Her nipples were pebbled against the white lace of her bra, made more obvious as she leaned up on her elbows. His darkened eyes roamed over her body, no inch left undiscovered. His fingers continued to do their work of revealing more, when he popped open the button of her shorts. The garment soon discarded on the floor with her shirt. 
All that she was left in was her undergarments, grateful she had put on a matching set that morning. Joel stood fully clothed in front of her, on unequal ground but somehow the thought excited her. She could feel herself flush behind the skin of her cheeks, turning her head so she could hide behind the back of her hand.
“Don’t hide from me, darlin’” He whispered, catching her in the act, fingers clasping around her wrist. She complied letting the limb fall back to its original position. She dared herself to meet his strong gaze as he continued, another gasp swirling into the air when he spread her thighs, the wetness between her legs more obvious once the cold air contrasted with the heat of her arousal. 
“Look at you…” Joel groaned, toying with the hem of her panties where her thigh met her center, the fleeting touch of his fingers causing her hips to twitch up towards him. He watched her restlessness with slight amusement, though he granted her some form of relief as he dipped his pointer finger into her soaked panties. Though he only did so to pull the fabric away from her burning heat, and a second later he let it snap back down, the sound louder than expected as it smacked against her folds. 
“Don’t do that.” Y/N whined, squirming under his teasing.
“What? You don’t like it?” He did it again, causing the girl to jolt up further on the bed. She whined once, but she didn’t exactly have any words to argue with him. She sort of did like his teasing. But impatience was taking over her.
“I— I think I’m ready.” She breathed heavily through her nose as his fingers continued to play around with the fabric of her panties. 
“Ready?” He questioned, brows furrowed.
“Ready for you to— for your…” She stammered, embarrassment flooding her senses as she couldn’t find how to put it.
“For my cock?” He finished for her. She squeaked at the unexpected harshness of his words, but was pleased by the sharp ache that probed at her core. 
“Mhm.” She nodded, shutting her eyes, almost as if bracing herself. 
They shot back open at the sound of Joel’s soft laughter filling the room, she was greeted with the sight of his bright smile, his head shaking.
“What?” Y/N asked, slightly perturbed at the fact he was laughing at her. He only shook his head, bending to loop an arm around her waist, shifting her body with ease so that she now lay properly on the bed, head sinking into the plush material of his pillows. She huffed in annoyance, lifting herself up back on her elbows so that he could feel the full force of her glare. 
“You’re not even close to ready for me, sweetheart.” He told her, a strong knee propped on the bed. His fingers were working on the buttons of his dark green shirt, revealing a smattering of hair that was once hidden by its confines. Y/N paused as she hungrily drank in the reveal of his skin, but was soon disappointed when he stopped at the third button down. Any complaints she had were lost on her tongue when he swung his other leg onto the bed, trapping the woman between his knees as he sat above her. 
He looked like a god in this position. Skin shining under the sunlight that slid into the room in its golden hour, the shadows of his strong features accentuated. She wasn’t sure if she should cower under his might, she was more grateful to be bestowed with this sight of him. Ready to sacrifice anything to him.
“I feel ready.” She murmured up to him, “Want you inside of me, Joel.”
An unanticipated shiver shot up the length of Joel's spine at her admission, his erection growing harsher within the limits of his underwear. He sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head as if he had to deliberately make the move to hold himself back.
“I want that too, baby.” He mumbled, shifting to smooth his hands down the expanse of her stomach, needing his hands on her in some shape or form. “But ‘m too big for you.”
“Too big?” Y/N parroted her eyes widening. He nodded.
“Have t’ get you ready for me.” He relayed, “Especially since you’ve never had anythin' up there before.”
“Yes I have.” She countered, her tone becoming more defiant. Joel stilled at her words, knowing that could only mean one thing.
“Your fingers?” He swallowed against the words. Y/N’s shy demeanor returned, she looked away.
“Yes.” She said, her voice small.
Joel held back a groan threatening at the back of his throat, the image of her playing with herself, cumming around her fingers, forcing its way to the forefront of his mind. He could feel as more precum leaked out of his tip, slicking against his skin. His heartbeat was ringing in his ears.
“It’s not gonna be the same.” He strained, shaking his head.
“Will it hurt?” 
“A little… at first.” He told her honestly, “That’s why I need you to be ready for me. It’ll hurt you less and I… just wanna make you feel good.”
Y/N softened at the earnest look in Joel’s eyes as he spoke, her heartbeat hammering in her chest with how much care he was providing for her. 
“Okay.” She relented, her hands moving up to grasp at the bottom of his shirt, tugging him towards her. He followed her movements with no resistance, leaning down to kiss her, deep and steady. 
“Make me feel good then.” She whispered into his lips.
“As you wish.”  He replied, in the same hushed tone.
Joel sat back on his heels, admiring her in the golden light for just a second longer before he started. They held each other’s stare, the love they confessed blooming in the air between them, warming their bones, making their hearts beat in time. 
His touch was light as he slid her panties down her legs, losing the piece of fabric somewhere on the bed behind him. He placed a featherlight kiss across her collarbone as he unclasped her bra, her back arching into him so he had the room to remove it. He tossed it in the same aimless direction. And when he sat back, she was bare to him. 
“Beautiful.” He mumbled, tracing his knuckles down her sternum to her belly button, she shivered under his touch, or maybe from the compliment. 
Then he placed himself gently on the pillow beside her. He brought a large hand to her chin, tilting her head to the side so that she’d meet his gaze. Kissing her lips gently, he slid that same hand down the length of her stomach until his fingers were pressing into her pubic mound. He pulled away from her lips, so he could see every little reaction that she had for him.
Her pretty lips fell open when he dipped his fingers lower, collecting the wetness that was pooling at her entrance. He hummed at how wet she was, the slick covering his two fingers when he brought them back up to rub circles into her clit. A moan was instantly pulled from her, her body jolting at the sensation, breasts bouncing as she did. Joel drank in every minute of it. 
And once he knew she was completely ready, he finally slipped a finger inside of her. 
Y/N sucked in a harsh breath, she wasn’t expecting his finger to feel so large inside of her. But it was nothing to what she had felt before when she tried something like this on her own. She felt so full with just the use of his finger, stretching her out so resolutely, that she wondered how it would feel once it was the real thing. She was whimpering once again due to Joel’s actions, her hands shot up to grasp at Joel’s bicep, his shirt taut over the flexing muscle. 
“You want another finger?” He asked into her temple.
“Y-yes.” She breathed, already wanting more from him. And he wasn’t going to deny her of what she wanted. So he added the second finger, the obscene sound of it squelching into the air. He changed the position of his hand, as well, his thumb now prodding at her clit whenever he thrust his hand back into her.
Y/N’s hips moved in time with each of Joel’s movements, even as he sped up, the sound of his palm smacking against her wetness growing louder and louder. Her moans were now tumbling over her tongue at a constant rate, her head thrown back against the pillow.
Joel’s eyes were still watchful over her, he gaped at how beautiful she looked, coming undone with only the use of his fingers. He couldn’t stop from grinding himself into her hip, moving at the same pace as his fingers, too turned on by her to try and hold back.
His own moans were muffled when he started kissing at her neck, and then down the soft flesh of her breasts, until he flicked his tongue over her sensitive nipple.
That was the beginning of Y/N’s breaking point. Him curling his fingers inside of her, probing at a small spongy spot hidden deep inside of her, was the end. 
Her orgasm ripped through her like a freight train, her cum splashing itself onto Joel’s palm. Her legs couldn’t stop shaking, even when he pulled his digits out of her. He chuckled softly as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his chest. On instinct she curled into him, fingers clutching at the lapels of his shirt, her body still trembling as she floated back down from the sky. 
“How was that?” He questioned, holding her tighter against him. She could feel her own slick on his fingers as they pressed into her lower back. 
“Good.” She said into the crook of his neck, voice shaky, earning another laugh from the man. 
“We can stop now, if you want.” He told her, lips pressed into her hair. 
Y/N pushed against his chest, freeing herself from her previous hiding spot. She looked at him with furrowed brows and found nothing but honesty and adoration flickering across his irises. God, he really would stop for her, if she asked him too. In fact, the look he was giving her told her that he would do anything for her. She let out a frustrated breath, surely he wasn’t so stupid to think that she wouldn’t do the same for him. 
“I don’t want to stop.” She said, genuine with her words. Maybe a bit too forceful as she sat up.
“O-okay.” Joel relinquished, eyes wide at her eagerness, following her in the action of sitting up, his back now straightened.
“It’s slightly unfair, you know.” Y/N then said, placing a hand to the center of his chest, pushing lightly so that he would rest against the headboard. There was no resistance, he did as she said. 
“What is?” Joel inquired, his breathing quickening as Y/N sat on her knees beside his hip. His eyes were trained to the crease between her thigh and waist, relishing in her every curve. It was a cruel reminder of his hardened cock trapped in his pants, twitching at the sight. He didn’t even notice as her hands started to unbutton his shirt. That was until she started kissing at each newly revealed piece of skin. He sucked in a harsh breath at the touch of her lips.
“You always get to see me like that.” She said between kisses. And he could’ve argued that it had only ever been twice, but he didn’t want to know what would happen if he interrupted her wrath. “And yet you always hide from me.”
“I don’t hide from you.” Joel countered, his knuckles white from his grip on the sheets beneath him. “You’re just not the opportunist like I am.” 
A surge of pride spread out under Joel’s skin as Y/N’s sweet laughter bubbled into the air. The sound of it doing as much to him as her moans did. He loved hearing her laugh. Like it was proof that she was actually happy with him. Though he supposed the proof was right in front of him, as she continued to leave loving kisses across his chest.
Joel’s shirt was finally discarded, granting Y/N the sight she had been desperate to see for so long. A beauty to behold. He wasn’t exactly all hard lines and jagged edges. But he was strong and large, and soft in the places he needed to be. His skin was tanned and taut over muscles that could only be carved by the waves of a raging sea. But there were scars left behind, probably a result of tragedies endured on his countless journeys. Y/N left a soft kiss over each one.
And then her hands were soon preoccupied by a new task, the metal parts of his belt clanking against each other as she removed the constriction.
Joel waited with bated breath. He had to force himself not to ask if she was really sure about this. Because if she wasn’t, she definitely would not be slowly sliding open the zipper to his pants. Or then tugging them down his thick thighs, revealing the black fabric of his boxer briefs. And she definitely would not now be palming at the bulge between his legs. Which she was.
A groan fell from his lips once she had her hand squeezing at his erection. His hips jutted forward into her palm, his need for her touch too obvious for his own good. His eyes flickered up to find a look of pure wonder on the woman’s features, maybe she was surprised she could elicit such reactions from him. 
“Feel’s s’ good, baby.” He reassured, the words falling from his lips between soft grunts of pleasure. Y/N’s eyes snapped up to meet his. He stared back, lids hooded over darkened eyes overblown with lust. His hips were now rolling up into her hand, over and over, unable to stop.
“Really?” She squeaked.
“Yeah.” He grunted out, any coherent sentences lost to him as lust overtook him. Especially when her fingers hooked around the hem of his underpants, pushing them down to follow the path of his pants.
He gasped when the cold air hit his burning erection.
She gasped at the sight of it.
His cock sprang up once it was finally free from its confines, the tip hitting his lower belly, leaving behind a splotch of precum against his skin. And Joel was right… he was big. It was thick, just like the rest of him, with protruding veins running up the side. The head of it was red and angry, shining with the proof of his arousal. 
And surprisingly, despite the aggressive look of his erection, the woman wasn’t scared like she thought she’d be. Instead she was drawn to it. Drawn to him. Because she was drawn to every part of him. So there was no time wasted when her smaller hand wrapped around his length.
Joel cursed under his breath, head falling back against the headboard with a dull thud. Just the touch of her hand already had him weak, ready to unravel. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to last once he finally felt the tight confines of her cunt fluttering around him. So for now he enjoyed the soft touch of her hand, closing his eyes as her thumb spread his precum over the tip with gentle touches. 
She was slow with her movements, which was alright by Joel. It granted him time to breathe, as well as the fact that this was the first time she’s ever done anything like this. He didn't need to move any faster than this if she didn't want to. His arousal sat low in his belly, happily waiting in the anticipation. 
Though, his blood spiked when he felt the wet touch of her tongue against the head of his cock.
“W-what are you doin’?” He asked, head snapping up to find her crouched down at his waist, hands splayed out on his thighs. She looked up at him through her lashes, tongue still unyielding against him. It was a sight he had dreamt about and longed for, but he never expected her to do anything like this tonight.
“You did this for me, right?” Y/N said between the tiny kitten licks she administered,  “‘m only returning the favor.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He replied, shaking his head slightly. He brought a hand to her jawline, ready to pull her away from his erection, “You don’t owe me anythin’.”
“Okay… Well then it’s because I want to.” She countered, ignoring the presence of his hand and dipping her head downwards again. This time she wrapped her moistened lips over the entire tip. 
“Fuck.” He hissed into the air, his hand moving from her cheek to her hair. He tried to be gentle with his grip, knowing she was new to all of this, but it was increasingly difficult to do so. Especially when she hummed in pleasure around his cock, seemingly relishing in the slight pain of having her hair pulled. She swirled her tongue around him, pulling a stuttering whimper from his lips.
She looked up at him at the sound. His head was thrown back once again, a thin layer of sweat coating his skin, he was breathing harshly through his nose, his handsome features twisted with euphoria. And it was all because of her. 
Y/N felt as more wetness pooled between her legs and dripped down her inner thighs, she squirmed slightly as her arousal increased once again. As it turned out, she seemed to like having Joel like this, writhing under her in immense pleasure, whimpering from the touch of her tongue. She wondered if this is how he felt when he did the same thing to her. If he was this hard in her mouth because he gained pleasure from her pleasure. The thought spurred her on, moving her mouth further down his length.
Another deep groan rumbled out from his chest, eliciting a sound of affirmation from the woman, the vibration of her vocal chords shooting electricity through his body. He glanced back down at her, watching as she took him in as deep as she could.
“God, you look s’ pretty like that.”
And she did. Her mouth around his rigid cock, tears filling her eyes as he pushed deeper down her throat, her pupils blown out with need for him. He could cum to that sight. No— he was going to cum at the sight. He could feel the coil deep in his core about to snap as she continued. But he wasn’t going to let it end here. 
“W-wait. Please, darlin’, you have to stop.” Joel said softly, as he gently pulled her off of him, Y/N’s features held a look of confusion and disappointment. 
“Did I do something wrong?” She asked as he pulled her into his lap, his burning shaft now pressing nicely against the curve of her backside. He could feel how wet she was as she pressed her center into his lower abdomen, soaking the coarse hair spattered across the skin there. 
“No.” He shook his head, “No, you were absolutely perfect, sweetheart. I just… I want to be inside you before I finish.”
“Oh.” Y/N smiled shyly, her head dipping down in slight embarrassment. “Okay.”
“Do you think you’re ready for me?” He asked tenderly, placing kisses onto her cheeks. She closed her eyes against his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and nodding her head.
Soon she was on her back, head surrounded by Joel’s fluffy pillows. The sun had slowly dipped further down towards the horizon, only leaving a little bit of light left in the room. It was soft and gentle, caressing the two of them in dimming shades of blue. Joel braced himself over her, bicep flexing when he lowered himself to leave a kiss against her lips. 
“I’ll start slow.” He whispered to her afterwards, leaning his forehead onto hers, a large hand smoothing over her outer thigh. The pressure of his fingertips were somehow soft within his guiding grasp, positioning her leg over his hip. A shock of pleasure erupted in Y/N’s core as she felt the length of Joel’s cock nestle in between her folds at this new position. Joel’s shoulders trembled, breathing growing heavy, his reaction to the same thing.
Y/N’s own breath hitched in her throat as Joel’s hands snaked between them. He wrapped his calloused fingers around his shaft, guiding the tip through Y/N’s slit and brushing it lightly against her clit. Simultaneous gasps intermingled in the air between their lips as they relished in the sensation. 
“Joel.” Y/N whimpered, the unsaid words begging for more. He only nodded in return, his attention locked on the space between their hips, slowly growing smaller as he finally pushed the head of his cock inside of her.
Y/N could immediately tell the difference between this and his fingers. Before was barely anything compared to this. Now she was finally full, finally complete. And it was only the beginning as Joel slowly pushed himself deeper.
She whined at the stretch of him, fingernails scratching over his back. Joel wasn’t any better, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, releasing the most sinful of moans as he was slowly sucked in by her tight, wet warmth. The feel of her around him was more incredible than he imagined. So much so that he pushed in faster than intended, earning a sharp gasp from the woman beneath him. He stilled, immediately.
“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away from her neck to gauge her true reaction. Her eyes were shut, bottom lip tucked between her teeth.
“‘m alright.” She replied, her heavy breathing causing her sensitive nipples to brush against Joel's chest, another spark of arousal surged through her bones. Another harsh moan was released from the man above her.
“Shit— baby, don’t do that.” He gritted his teeth.
Unknown to Y/N, when that bout of pleasure had traveled the length of her body, she had clenched around him at the sensation. The instance of which made Joel feel as though he might burst into flames. His cock jerked inside of her, the coil returning, slowly starting to unravel. 
“Think you can take any more?” Joel questioned, once he could calm his beating heart as much as he could have.
“There’s more?” She stammered, confused since she already felt so full.
“Y-yeah there’s more.” Joel told her, trying his hardest not to move an inch, the task becoming increasingly difficult. Y/N released a shuddering breath.
“Yeah.” She nodded, “I can take it.”
“That’s my girl.” Joel chuckled airily, the affirmation causing a nice pool of warmth to settle in Y/N’s belly. But the feeling was soon replaced by the head of Joel’s cock as it moved deeper inside of her, the length of him making her believe he was truly proding into her stomach. 
Slowly but surely the rest of him was sheathed inside of her, proven by the soft tickle of his pubic hair against her inner thighs. Joel let himself rest inside of her, allowing her to adjust to his size, his breathing deep and heavy as her walls squeezed around his cock. 
She started squirming beneath him, desperate for him to do more.
“Please Joel.” She whimpered, “Move.”
“You want me to move, sweetheart?” He murmured, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth, her desperation causing something wicked within him to start teasing. 
“Y-yes please, Joel. I need you.” She breathed, squeezing around him again. “Want you to fuck me.”
Joel’s entire body lurched at the words that slipped from her tongue. His heart hammering against his ribcage as it was completely unexpected. It caught him off guard, but he regained his bearings quickly, shaking free from the surprise as he took enjoyment from her dirty language.
“You do, huh?” He mumbled back, feeling her nod into his shoulder. “Is that what you want? For me t’ fuck you?”
“Yes.” She whined, a bit impatiently, more soft chuckles tumbled out of his lips.
“Okay, sweetheart.” He answered, “Anythin’ for you.”
And then he started moving. Slowly, so torturously slowly, sliding out until it was just his head that was left inside of her. Then, just as slowly he would sink all the way back in. He did that over and over again, causing an onslaught of pleasure to rip through the girl as the grooves of his cock carved into her walls so deliciously. She was a mess beneath him, shuddering and gasping with each slow movement he made.
Y/N arched into him, hands grasping at his back as he dipped his head, placing a kiss to her shoulder, moaning softly into her skin. Pleasure radiated throughout her body at every point of contact his skin had with hers, burning the brightest where the two of them connected. Even more so as Joel started to gradually speed up, still making long deep thrusts, but a little faster each time.
The bed started creaking beneath them, mixing in with the sound of their sensual moans as well as their skin slapping together in time with Joel’s thrusts. A cacophony of pleasure swirling around the room and serenading this moment as they finally connected in the way they always wanted to. 
The sting of Joel’s size was now long forgotten as Y/N savored in the pleasure of him. Her arms were wound tightly around his neck, holding his head into her shoulder. She could feel his lips pressing into her skin, leaving deliberate kisses after each thrust. Her legs soon followed the same pattern as her arms, looping around his waist, pulling his body in close. Now there was no part of them left untouching. 
His own arm soon snaked around her waist, drawing her in even closer if that was possible, her clit now firmly pressed against his pelvic bone. Y/N threw her head back with a deep moan, Joel’s lips attaching to her neck in record time. The heat low in her stomach returned from before, signifying that everything soon would come crashing down in a crescendo. 
Joel’s cock twitched inside of her as he felt her walls fluttering around him. His own impending orgasm weighing heavy in his chest. He pulled his lips away from her skin.
“Look at me.” He said softly, despite the fact that his thrusts became sloppier by the second, his pace staggering as he involuntarily thrusted harder inside of her.
Y/N— despite struggling under the onslaught of her own oncoming orgasm, opened her eyes for him, meeting his soft brown gaze as they chased their highs. It was strange to see that gaze in this context, especially since the first time she saw it she would have never guessed this is where it would bring her. But now that she was here she couldn’t ask for anything she wanted more.
Except for one thing.
“Kiss me.” She said in return, and since Joel couldn’t deny her of anything, he did just that, bringing their lips together in a tender kiss. The touch of it sending Y/N over the edge.
Joel felt as she came around his cock, squeezing onto him like a velvet vice, her cum gushing out around the base of him, soaking his skin. He moaned deep and heavy at the sensation, his own orgasm on the precipice. He placed his thumb on Y/N’s clit— hoping that will be enough to help her down from her high— as he pulled himself out of her.
He grunted with each spurt of cum splattering itself onto Y/N’s stomach, his free hand tight around his shaft, the length of it jerking in his hand. His thighs tensed as his orgasm shot out from his hips, shoulders trembling from the pleasure of it all, his heart racing.
Then, as the euphoria began to fade, his legs were weak as he sat back on his knees, chest heaving as he looked down at the mess he made on his beautiful wife. 
His cum was shining white against her skin, the gleam of it reflecting in the moonlight as her stomach moved up and down with each passing of her shallow breaths. Her limbs were limp against the mattress, eyes hooded as exhaustion took over her form. He smiled softly at the sight of her, sliding a hand underneath her to bring her up to his level. He pulled her into his lap, holding her flush against his chest—  not caring that his cum was now smeared across his own stomach.
“You did so well, sweetheart.” He whispered to her, stroking his knuckles across her cheekbone, she leaned into his touch, humming in content. Joel leaned forward, placing a kiss on her forehead.
They sat like that for a minute, savoring the silence between them and the embrace of their lover. But it didn't last too long as Joel spoke once more.
“Come on.” He abruptly said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, taking Y/N with him as he did. She whined when she realized she was being pulled away from the comfort of a warm bed.
“What? Why? I wanna sleep.” She argued when her feet hit the wooden floor beside his own, moving to dive back under the covers. He caught hold of her before she could.
“We gotta wash up.” Joel countered, pulling her towards the door that sat in the corner of the room, the mystery (that was not so mysterious) soon to be revealed.
“And then we can go to bed?” She questioned, as her shaking legs became more willing to follow him
“Not quite.” Joel grinned, guiding her into the shower. When she offered him a look of confusion at his words, he answered the question written on her face.
“We still have to make dinner.”
And soon, after all the proof of their passion was washed clean from their skin, underneath swirling puffs of cedar-scented steam and occasionally interrupted by stolen kisses, the two of them made their way down to their kitchen. And an hour later, as they sat across the table from one another, under the golden glow of their kitchen light. They divulged in their carefully prepared meal, sharing shy smiles and fleeting glances between each bite. The sight of them alone contradicting any statement that the island they resided on didn’t live up to its name. 
~~~
A/N: honestly this fic was born because of the smut scene in the kitchen, i can't lie 😩 and then i rewatched the music video for adore you by harry styles so i wanted this oneshot to be something romantic and whimsical in it's nature, so i hope that came across. Is it corny? yes! but I had so much fun writing this so i hope you had fun too!!! thank you so much for taking the time to read my work !! and now i'll be leaving, goodbye forever!! <33
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superblysubpar · 6 months
Note
hi !! could i get prompt 70 ("you're being shy now? really?") with eddie !
Anyone else's home plagued with the game star field currently? Just mine? Anyways, I hope you enjoy the fic that came from my own frustrations of being ignored by a video game. I actually truly don't know what came over me with this. Thank you for requesting 💛
my requests are currently closed / find more fulfilled blurbs here / this is a part of the "My True Disaster" AU - find more stories here
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You’re not sure what possessed you to do something about it tonight, and really, you were being extremely unfair. He’d given you ample warning about this commitment, and it was rare he devoted so much time to this sort of thing. Never this intense, never this distracted by something other than you. 
His dark gray sweats cover muscular thighs, spread wide over the couch cushions he’s sunk into. Ankles exposed where his tube socks bunched, you fight a smile when you see his heels bouncing up and down in an anxious movement. His dark curls cascade over his shoulders, shiny and looking too soft from the shower he took when he got home - suspiciously smelling like coconut and the ocean - smelling like your hair. The white tee he wears tonight is yours too, a thrift find you’d held up to him proudly a few weeks ago. The red and yellow logo of Jurassic Park faded and pulled tight over his chest. 
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His fingers curl, moving swiftly, wrists and forearms flexing. The muscles in his shoulders and back move under the white fabric in a taunting way. He hums along to your Fleetwood Mac playing over the speakers, despite claiming to not enjoy their music. Plump pink lips purse, the lyrics of Gypsy trailing off as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. His bright, brown eyes blink, widening at the screen. 
The controller shifts in his hands, fingers precise and big, making it look like a child’s toy in his grip. Your foot almost stomps, he hasn’t even glanced at you since you’ve entered the room. 
This means war. 
Your hands fall to the top of his shoulders, thumbs rubbing into his neck gently and he hums appreciatively, rolling his head to the side. 
Kissing the apple of his cheek that he tilts up for you, you lean over the back of the couch. Your lips travel down, skimming over his jaw in another tender kiss. The soft scrape of stubble beneath your mouth has you sighing, eucalyptus and the woods and spice linger on his skin, making your thighs press together. 
Your hands slip down hard pecs, kisses traveling lower over his neck. 
“Hey baby,” Eddie hums, eyes unwavering from the screen still, “What’s up?”
Lips pausing their assault, you let your nose drag across his skin, inhaling as your palms press flat against his stomach. You pout into his collar, “Why does anything have to be up? Can’t a girl just say hi to her guy?”
Eddie’s breath sucks in with a small chuckle as your fingers scrape at the side of his ribs. He kisses at your temple briefly. “Hi.”
Your fingers slip lower, brushing over the soft skin exposed between the rolled band of his sweats and the white shirt. Pads of your fingers moving slowly back and forth, you smile into his neck when he shivers. 
“How’s starfleet?” You nip at his ear, fingers toying with the band of his sweats. 
“Starfield baby. Starfleet is Star Trek.”
You roll your eyes. Despite the thing stealing him away from you, you do love how excited he gets explaining something to you. 
“Sorry. How’s starfield, did you win yet?” Your apology pressed into his cheek with another kiss as your fingers scrape at the dark trail of hair disappearing into his sweats. 
“Well, you don’t really win, sweetheart. Wanna watch for a bit? I just got to this part and…” his excitement trails off as your palm rubs against the half-hard bulge beneath the gray fabric, growing quickly under your slow and teasing movements. 
“And?” Your single word question drips with faux innocence. 
“Shit, uh, and, I…” His fingers slip on the controller. 
Point one - you.
Your own fingers go back to teasing at the band of sweats, and as they finally dip lower, you have to suppress the moan that’s desperate to sneak past your lips when they feel no other fabric between your skin and his. 
Eddie Munson you no underwear wearing slut.
Mouth pressing kisses up and down his neck and behind his ear, fingers wrapping around his hard length. “Come on, handsome. Don’t you wanna tell me all about this game that’s stolen me from you?”
“Aw, you jeal - baby,” the term of endearment a broken moan as his head finally turns to see you. 
Point two - you.
The victory is short lived though when the familiar pew-pew-pews echo from the TV and he curses under his breath. At least his eyes on the screen seem strained now, ignoring you a somewhat tough choice to make. 
You move from your spot behind the couch, his adams apple bobbing as you take a step closer. 
Eddie shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at the screen, determined to stay focused. “You’re mean.” His tongue licks over his lip as he swallows harshly again. 
“Me?” You question with a dramatic pout, crawling over the far cushion towards him slowly. 
His old Hellfire shirt adorns the top half of your body, red lace cutting high on your ass, disappearing under the hem of his ratty high school shirt. 
Eddie laughs, a desperate sound as he shakes his head again. “I’m not doing this, this isn’t fair.”
“Oh? You’re not doing this, huh?” Your eyebrows raise, hand trailing up the inside of his thigh and making him squirm, soliciting a groan. One that rumbles deep in his chest but he cuts it off before the satisfied smirk fully forms on your lips. 
“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’, but his eyes quickly dart to the side, taking in the small glimpse of your backside he can find before returning to the screen. 
Point three - Starfleet or whatever the shit it’s called.
Dammit. This calls for drastic measures. 
Your bare leg hitches over his thigh, careful to keep your body and head tilted so he can still see his stupid video game. 
Palms press to his chest as your hips roll against his thigh, you smooth a kiss to his shoulder. “You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?”
Pulling away, you put on a show, blinking your eyes innocently, rolling your hips and exaggerating your gasp of pleasure from the friction (because really it does feel good, but when it comes to Eddie, the more into the theatrics you are, the better). 
He clicks his tongue, pushing it into his cheek as he keeps his eyes on the screen, “Go ahead princess.”
You scoot higher up his thigh, pressing yourself down harder with the next roll as your eyes flutter. Your lips nip at his jaw as you breathe heavily, “Princesses get whatever they want right? Just ask their knight in shining armor to jump and he says how high?”
“I-” he swallows, eyes blinking rapidly. You smirk at the way you can see his dick twitch under his sweats again. Of course the princess shit gets him. 
Your lips press hot kisses over his neck, moving up until you’re at his ear, “Need you to fuck me, Teddy.”
He groans, the nickname on your lips too sweet and too pleading for him to ignore anymore. The controller falls from his fingers as he grabs at your thighs greedily. He pulls you fully over his lap, fingernails digging into the dough he loves and scratching up, higher and higher till he’s at your waist. He snaps the red lace on your hip before his fingers trace the curve of it back down. He presses three fingers over the wet patch of fabric and you swallow his moan with your lips. 
Eddie barely kisses you, pulling away and shoving two fingers to your lips with a gasped, “Open.”
Not needing to be told twice, your lips part, taking his fingers inside, tongue swirling around them as your cheeks hollow. He watches with hooded eyes, pulling the digits from you with a pop and shoving the elastic of his sweats down. Wet fingers over his cock, your saliva mixing with precum that leaks from him already. Eddie yanks you down with one hand, his other pulling the stretch of damp lace to the side, his tip nudging at your entrance making you whimper. 
Your head falls into the crook of his neck as he pushes in, the filthy slide of him against your tight walls and the lewd sound of your slick as he draws out and thrusts back in sharply making your theatrics and confident facade crumble immediately.
“Fuck, so spoiled baby,” he hisses, palms making a satisfying smack against your ass before squeezing at each cheek, moving you up and down on him forcefully. 
It feels like he’s puncturing a lung with each thrust getting deeper, worried he’s actually mad at you until he whispers into your jaw, “Princesses get spoiled though, yeah?”
Only able to whimper and nod as the smack of your thighs meeting his gets louder and louder. 
“You’re being shy now? Really? After that show you just put on?”
Heat radiates throughout your entire body, fingers curling into the cotton of his sides as your breath quickens, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach snaps as he pulls out of you suddenly. 
He smirks at your whine and taps your thigh, nodding towards the screen. “Turn around, sweetheart.”
You blink, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and stand, legs shaking despite not reaching an orgasm. You turn and he pulls you back to him causing a surprised squeak to escape you. 
He slides back into you with a grunt, his forehead pressing to your spine until you’re fully seated. He kisses your cheek, voice full of the kind of rasp he usually gets after singing that he knows gets you all hot and bothered as he says, “Princesses also need to learn their lessons. So you’re going to sit here and not move and wait your turn for attention from Teddy.”
Your cheeks heat at his condescending tone and the use of his nickname, like you should be embarrassed - even though the name turns him on. Your fingers curl into fists on your thighs as his dick twitches inside you. 
Eddie grabs the controller, hooking his chin over your shoulder, and hits unpause.
All the points - Eddie. 
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flowerandblood · 7 months
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Brother, Lover, Son (Oneshot)
The Impossible Choice Series Special Chapter
[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]
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[description: Aemond is sent to Storm's End by his father to be trained in the nature of battle and warfare under Borros Baratheon eye, in preparation for his future role as commander of his brother's army. He is to choose one of his daughters as his future wife, but Borros only allows him to choose between four of them when his true desire is awakened by his fifth and youngest child.]
[warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, masturbation, kissing, smut, angst, sexual tension, domination, violence, kind of incest but not actually]
This oneshot is an alternate reality from The Impossible Choice Series where, according to Aemond's words in Chapter 49, he is sent to Storm's End by his father when he is still just a child. It shows what would happen and how it would affect Aemond and Lady Baratheon, what his relationship with Borros, Royce and her other sisters would be like. This chapter stands apart from the main story and is a big, long "what if". This is very long oneshot (over 15.000 words).
Part two of this oneshot: To desire, to love, to care
Other oneshot form the same AU: Daugther, Lover, Sister
Brother, Lover, Son Inside Alphabet
Moodboards before you start reading and want feel the mood:
Aemond and Lady Baratheon • Storm's End Stronghold • Baratheon Family • Lady Baratheon Gowns • Aemond • Lady Baratheon Mother
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Main story and my other fics: Masterlist
______
Aemond was unable to understand his father's decision. The night after their conversation, after the king had conveyed his will to him he had cried with rage, lying with his face pressed against his pillow, his barely healed scar from Luke's cut burning and itching more than usual.
"I've decided that you will spend a few years in Storm's End, preparing for your role as commander under the tutelage of Lord Borros Baratheon. After what has happened you need a change of environment, son. It'll do you good."
Aemond wept quietly, remembering those words for the hundredth time. He thought with grief that what he needed was not a change of environment, but a father who would come in time, save him from his nephew's cut, support him later in front of everyone, hug him and comfort him.
Meanwhile, despite the fact that he had managed to tame the largest dragon that now walked the earth his father was getting rid of him. He thought that the lack of an eye made him now forever defiant in his eyes and he wanted to hide him somewhere far away from the world, condemning him to oblivion.
His mother begged his father to change his mind, but he said that his son was already eleven years old and would soon be a grown man, and she could visit him whenever she wanted.
Whether he wanted it or not, a week later he was standing in the courtyard wrapped in his crying mother's arms. Aegon yawned, looking around, Helaena was staring at her hands, thoughtful, and small Daeron sobbed loudly not understanding why he had to leave.
He only grunted, looking at them, not knowing what to say. He simply nodded, turned and walked away, not wanting to cry in front of everyone like a little child.
When he reached Storm's End on Vhagar a heavy rain was pouring down all around him, through which he could see very little. He struggled to land near the fortress, and travelled a long distance on foot before encountering guards who came out to meet him and led him straight into the great stone stronghold.
Frozen and with a pounding heart he stepped inside, the keep seemed huge and cold to him, his wet footsteps echoing loudly and disturbingly all around him.
He was led into a large circular hall and saw a tall, massive, bearded man before him. He was strongly built, his shoulder-length hair was as dark as his beard, his thick eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, which he recognised that he was the reason for.
"What is the meaning of this? Why haven't you given him dry clothes yet?" He almost roared at his guards, who only nodded, moving immediately back towards the corridor.
"Royce!" The man called out in a voice so tubular that it echoed loudly throughout the hall, making him swallow heavily. He tried to keep an indifferent face, but he could feel his legs trembling.
Suddenly, a boy, taller than him and reminding him a bit of Jace, ran into the hall through a side entrance. He had short, curly hair and big brown eyes.
"Lead Prince Aemond to his chamber. Let him rest, and then both of you come to the feast." He said in a firm, unobjectionable voice from which his heart trembled.
His father-king had never spoken like this and he did not know how to act.
Royce, however, did not seem at all bothered by his father's harsh tone. He approached him with a light step and bowed, looking at him curiously. Aemond swallowed loudly.
"Follow me, my prince." He said, and he simply moved behind him, snorting quietly with his nose.
They moved up the grand, richly carved stone staircase. Royce was walking so fast that it was hard to keep up with him. They turned into one of the main corridors, then Royce opened a wooden door and invited him inside.
Aemond stepped into his chamber and realised to his surprise that this room was even bigger than the one he had lived in the Red Keep. There was already a fire in the fireplace, the warmth of the flames making him tremble a little less. Royce looked at him and opened the dresser, pulling out a chemise and trousers, glancing at him.
"Get changed. Unfortunately such fine weather here is normal. You'll have to get used to it. Dinner will be in an hour, father doesn't like anyone to be late. Make yourself comfortable." He said and patted him on the shoulder, stepping around him and walking out, leaving him with an embarrassed expression on his face.
No lord had ever touched him so brazenly or spoken to him so directly, but yet he felt some kind of relief after he had done so. He thought that perhaps such gestures were made between friends, brothers, and swallowed quietly.
This was not his family.
He had been sent here as if to some great stone prison.
After a few minutes or so, the servants brought trunks with his belongings, which had been brought in several carriages, and he changed into an attire he thought appropriate for supper. A plump, smiling woman then entered his chamber and informed him that she would be his servant and that he could ask her for anything he needed. He felt strange.
He knew they were kind to him because he was a prince. Because his father and Lord Baratheon had decided that he would one day marry one of his daughters. They could not offend or discourage him. He pressed his lips together at the thought and decided that he would not fall for this cheap pity.
He wondered for a moment how he was supposedly going to get to the hall where the feast would be, but a few minutes before the appointed time Royce knocked on his door asking if he was ready. They went there together.
They entered a great hall from the ceiling of which hung a huge candlestick, behind a long table stretched a fireplace from which a fire gushed, on an oak table spread a whole lot of dishes he had not seen before.
He noticed, surprised, that Lord Borros had already eaten, ignoring the fact that not everyone was yet at the table, nor that he, the prince, had yet to sit down. He swallowed quietly, sitting down in the seat Royce had indicated to him, the curious glances of his sisters made him lower his head, embarrassed.
They were looking at his eyepatch, at his scar.
He wanted to hide, to disappear.
Suddenly he heard a squeal from under the table that Royce had just ducked under and pulled out a little girl laughing so loudly he felt uncomfortable. She tried to pull away from her brother, but he held her tight and pinched her flushed cheek.
"This is where you hid, little rascal. I'm sorry, this is no longer your place, from now on Prince Aemond sits here." He explained to her, and she stopped squirming, looking at him with furrowed brows and tightened lips.
Aemond glanced at her, thinking she was about to start crying as loudly as she laughed, but she glanced back at Royce.
"Fine. He can sit there, but you can't." She burbled, jabbing her brother in his arm with her finger, stepping under the table again and appearing on the other side, taking the empty seat next to her other sister, the only fair-haired girl, who sighed heavily as she looked at her.
"Sit down. Don't act like an animal." She said, correcting her on the seat, her younger sister looked at her resentfully but said nothing. "What do you want to eat?"
She asked her as if she were her mother, and the girl pointed her finger at the roast. Lord Borros' low, firm voice snapped him out of his reverie.
"Eat. Don't be shy. This is your home now." He said, glancing at him with his piercing brown eyes, putting some more meat on the platter beside him and handed it to him.
Aemond swallowed, nodded and took a bit for his plate. Throughout the feast he had been frustrated by the attentiveness of Lord Borros' daughters, except perhaps the youngest, who was too savage to concentrate on anything.
Aemond had hardly slept through the night, curling up in his bed, trying not to cry from sadness and longing. He wanted to return to King's Landing, to a place where the sun greeted him every day, not rain and clouds. Where there was his library to hide in, his garden, his mother and his heritage.
He felt lost, lonely, forsaken.
His maid brought him his breakfast in the morning, warm milk with a platter of rolls and vegetables he liked. He wondered how she knew this and whether Lord Borros had asked his mother about it before. Then Royce came into his chamber and said that in an hour he would be training with his father in the courtyard for hand-to-hand combat and he could join them if he wished.
Aemond wasn't sure he wanted to.
He was afraid of humiliation.
However, he recognised that Lord Borros could not see him as a weak coward, so he went downstairs, having previously dressed in the clothes designed for training, entering the courtyard from the side, through the cloisters, and stopped, looking at the square in front of him in disbelief.
Indeed Lord Borros and Royce were practising, both of them with wooden swords in their hands, all sorts of targets and shields around them, on tables surrounding them weapons he had not even seen in King's Landing. What he did not understand, however, was what his youngest daughter was doing there with them.
"Stand firmer on your feet. Improve your posture." Borros shouted loudly at her as she pushed against Royce with vigour, her wooden sword even smaller than his, her dark hair tied up in a braid, determination and focus in her big, bright eyes.
Royce deflected her attack and with a single, powerful blow knocked her wooden sword out of her hand a few metres away. She immediately ran after him, picking it up off the ground.
"Are you holding that sword or not?" Asked frustrated Royce, throwing his sword over his shoulder. "You need to have a stronger grip, focus."
"I'm trying!" She called out, running back to him and stopped, spotting him standing in front of the fortress entrance.
"Prince Aemond is here!" She exclaimed joyfully, and he blushed and lowered his head, embarrassed, feeling as if he had been caught in the act, even though he had done nothing wrong.
Borros and Royce immediately turned their gazes towards him, Lord Baratheon running the hilt of his sword over the sand.
"Come here." He said in a commanding voice, without any further pleasantries. He pressed his lips together at the thought that Criston had always addressed him with respect, not forgetting his titles.
He swallowed loudly, walking towards them with his head lowered, pale, prepared for humiliation. Royce threw a wooden sword in his direction, which he caught in flight.
"Ready?" The boy asked him, and he nodded. Royce thrust at him suddenly, his blow swishing through the air, but Aemond jumped back, spinning, trying to hit him from the side.
Royce blocked his blow and pushed him away, but he swished his sword once more, hitting him with all his strength on the shoulder. Royce hissed and recoiled, furrowing his brow, and he froze and stopped, swallowing loudly, looking at Lord Baratheon in horror. His daughter who stood beside him clapped her hands, a wide smile on her face. Borros nodded.
"Good. Royce, what did you do wrong?" His father asked, and Royce sighed heavily.
"I didn't dodge on my knees." He said resignedly, looking away, closing his eyes. His father hummed under his breath.
"Exactly. How many times do I have to tell you. Footwork is key! Again." He ordered, Royce sighed, the expression of displeasure gone from his face.
They had had several fights with each other, already more evenly matched, Lord Baratheon after each one giving them remarks or showing them what they were doing wrong. Aemond swallowed loudly as he turned to him.
"You have very good technique, but you are too tense in your shoulders. Relax them and your swing will be wider, you will be able to reach your enemy from a greater distance. Do you understand?" He asked and he nodded, unable to get the words out, his heart was beating like crazy.
His advice worked, he could feel in his hand that his sword was reaching farther, he hit Royce in the chest and he caught himself and hissed. Lord Borros came up and patted him firmly on the shoulder.
"Good. Just like that. Royce, legs." He said to him, and Aemond felt his cheeks go red, his belly filled with some kind of pride he didn't want to feel.
When they had finished and Borros said they could go and rest he thought Royce would lurk somewhere in the middle of the fortress and beat him up for the warm words from his father. Aegon always took it out on him later when he won some sparring match organised by Cole saying that he had humiliated him in front of everyone.
Royce, however, seemed to have forgotten all about the training, hot and sweaty, saying he was thirsty and hungry. He told him they could go to the pantry together, and he nodded, although he'd never been in such a place before.
They went down into the underground, there were servants walking around them, but they didn't seem to pay any attention to them, as if Royce's presence was normal for everyone. Royce went into one of the rooms and took two apples for them, on the way one of the servants asked him if they preferred to eat something warm.
"No." Said Royce, throwing him the other apple, turning back. They ate as they walked down the long, stone-cold corridors. Aemond wondered if he could ask him about it, he couldn't hold his curiosity any longer.
"Do you have a library here?" He asked feigning indifference, biting into the sweet flesh of the fruit. Only now did he feel the stress leave him, his stomach growling with hunger. Royce looked at him puzzled.
"Yes, but it's rarely used. I can show you where it is if you want."
As promised, Royce took him to a gigantic room made up of huge stone bookcases filled to the brim with dusty tomes. Indeed, the place looked as if no one had looked there for a long time.
He knew that Lord Borros could not read. However, he wondered if his children couldn't do it either. He glanced at Royce and wondered if it was appropriate for him to ask such things. So far Royce had been nice to him and was the only boy his age he could talk to about anything. He figured he'd phrase the question so as not to give himself away.
"Don't you like books?" He asked casually, eating further, strolling across the room with him. Royce shrugged his shoulders.
"I like books about the war, but they have a lot of difficult words that I don't understand. My mother explained to me that they were difficult books for adults and that I could try to go back to them when I was older." He said calmly, and he swallowed loudly, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.
Their mother was dead, but he wouldn't dare ask what had happened to her.
He hummed under his breath at his words and nodded.
"Sometimes I take books from here to read to my sister before bed. The youngest one you saw in the square today." He said, taking one of the books from the shelf, looking through it without much concentration. Aemond looked at him thoughtfully.
"Why is your little sister practising with you?" He asked, completely not understanding what she was doing there, having never seen any girl their age in King's Landing take an interest in such things before.
"And why not?" He replied with a question to question, shrugging his shoulders. Aemond was surprised by this answer and did not know what to reply.
"She cried terribly when I didn't want to take her with me. She insisted on sword fighting and that's it. Didn't one of Aegon the Conqueror's sister-wives fight with a sword?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Aemond pressed his lips together, refraining from saying that the Targaryens were not like other people and not to compare them, but he decided it was rude and left the subject.
From then on, he found his asylum in the forgotten library of Storm's End, where he spent his afternoons after training with Royce and writing off his mother's letters.
Although he still felt lonely, Royce was good company, not imposing on him, having his barriers, respecting his space. He wasn't spiteful and didn't look down on girls the way Aegon did, didn't beat him surreptitiously when his father wasn't watching, didn't play silly jokes or mischief on him.
He was a good friend.
Aemond liked to climb up to the small half-floor of the library from which he had a view of the whole place, settling in there with a few books and something to eat, spending long hours there.
One day, however, he heard, startled, as the door to the room opened, Borros's youngest daughter ran inside like a storm, approaching one of the bookcases. She struggled to pull some book off a shelf she couldn't reach, and he watched her efforts without a word. He wondered if he should help her, and then decided he didn't need to do anything for her.
The girl finally took the chair and stood on it, this time grabbing what she wanted. He blinked as she got off the chair and sat down on it, looking through some sort of large, colourful book, he could see from a distance how many illustrations it had.
He thought curiously that he would take it as soon as she had gone, however, she sat down comfortably and browsed further, wiggling her legs that did not reach the ground.
He sighed quietly and flipped the page of his book, discouraged, and she then lifted her head high and spotted him. He squeezed his eye shut when he heard her get up suddenly and run upstairs to him, he thought he could bid farewell to silence and peace.
"What are you reading about?!" She asked, sitting down next to him at the table above which her head barely protruded.
She unfolded a large but rather thin book in front of him, with an ornate red cover on which a dragon-like shape flashed before him. He didn't answer her question, pushing the book closer to himself, beginning to look through it quickly.
"Hey, I'm reading this!" She squealed in pain, wanting to take it from him, but he pushed her hand away.
"Be quiet." He growled, flicking through page after page, feeling his heart begin to pound.
Tales of the ancient Rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.
Beautifully illustrated scenes of nuptials, dragons, battles, his ancestors on gilded, coloured illuminations. In the Red Keep he had never seen such a book before. He flipped back to the beginning, wanting to start reading, but felt her hand tighten on his arm, her breathing uneven, as if she were about to cry.
"…I read it…." She mumbled, looking at him with big eyes full of tears, her face expressing as if she had never suffered so much in her life as she did in that moment.
"I'm reading it now. When I'm done I'll give it back to you." He said dryly, looking away.
He thought she was going to run off crying to complain to Royce or her father, and pressed his lips together at the thought, but she drew in a loud breath, trying to hold back the loud sobs that were pushing at her throat.
"− and can I − uh - can I sit next to − and you'd read to me, and I − I − I'd like to −" She spoke incoherently and with difficulty, and he clenched his eye knowing that she wouldn't leave him alone. He sighed heavily, pushed her chair closer to him and moved the book to the side so she could see something.
"Do you see anything?" He asked impatiently, looking at her, and she sat up on her knees to raise herself higher, looking at the open book curiously, her face completely changed its expression back to contented and gentle, although she was still red from tears.
"Yes."
He sighed heavily and began to read.
"Once upon a time there was a mysterious land called Valyria. It was known for its great sorcery and magic, and the most enchanted creatures of all had to be the almighty dragons, great flying reptiles breathing fire that resembled lizards in appearance. They had been invincible for thousands of years, sowing fear and confusion among humans who tried to tame them with prayers and gifts." He read in a calm voice and realised after a moment that she was listening to him as if enchanted, looking along with him at the text he was reading.
She glanced at him when he stopped reading, her gaze expressing joyful anticipation.
She really thought he was going to read the whole book to her now.
He didn't know how he felt about that thought. It frustrated him that he had to exert himself for her just on her whim, on the other hand she was just a child who wanted to listen to a story.
"Read on." She said softly, pleasantly, squirming in her lap in anticipation. "I really want to learn more about dragons."
He swallowed quietly at her words, lowering his head, looking blankly at the text in front of him. Even though her sisters were trying with all their might to make contact and conversation with him, he could see them trying to avoid looking at his eyepatch, afraid they would say the wrong thing or offend him.
He was tired of it.
Both he and they pretended all the time.
But she wanted nothing more than for him to continue reading a story that interested her.
So he read on.
✦ - ✦ - ✦ A few years later ✦ - ✦ - ✦
When his mother sent him a letter that Helaena had finally given birth, he flew to King's Landing for a few days to see his nephews. He was pleased, although he did not particularly show it, that his sister had endured the hardships of labour well, being able to get out of bed practically immediately despite giving birth to two children rather than one.
He stood over the two beautiful, ornate wooden cradles in which the two white-haired infants lay and pressed his lips together, knowing that these innocent creatures had just pushed him in line for the throne.
He had inherited nothing.
All he had was Vhagar.
He knew everyone thought so. As he walked the corridors of the Red Keep he felt the stares of the lords and ladies of the court, he knew they were whispering about him. He appeared in King's Landing infrequently and always aroused a general curiosity that made him want to return to Storm's End at once.
There he didn't feel like an intruder, he thought with pain.
Despite his mother's pleas for him to stay for a few weeks, he decided that he would return to Storm's End as planned, remembering his promise to Lord Baratheon to return to the fortress before his Name Day.
The last supper he spent in the Red Keep was quiet and peaceful, the only people at the table who had the strength to talk were his grandfather and his mother. Although the feast went on as usual, he could not get rid of the feeling that everyone around him was grey and dead, without energy or joy.
He recoiled from it.
Although he had always sought silence and solitude in Storm's End, dinners were full of loud conversations and laughter, usually through the banter between Borros, his son and his youngest child, sometimes joined by Ellyn.
Cassandra usually pressed her lips together, looking at him with shame, perpetually worried that he was unhappy or embarrassed, trying to mother everyone, much to his frustration.
Ellyn was sweet and kind, but everything frightened her, she was close to tears when he and Royce had fierce duels during which she almost begged them not to hurt each other.
Maris was withdrawn and immersed in her thoughts, paying no attention to him after he had growled at her several times not to enter his chamber in his absence.
Neither of them frustrated him as much as Floris did.
As he walked down the corridor she tried to catch him under his arm, turning his journey from point to point into a romantic stroll. She constantly asked his opinion when it came to choosing a gown for the feast, to which he didn't feel like answering, uninterested. Her approach tired him.
However, on the whole, he felt surprised and sad when he caught himself thinking that he was returning to Storm's End with relief. He felt like a stranger, like an intruder in his own home, his heritage, and he felt rage mixed with disappointment.
He returned on Vhagar to Storm's End late at night, flying in the middle of a terrible storm, entering the fortress all soaked.
He rolled his eye when he saw that Floris was waiting for him, dressed only in a slightly transparent night robe, holding some cloth in her hands.
"You're soaking wet, my prince, let me help you." She said, looking at him with big eyes.
"No need. Don't follow me." He said dryly, heading to his chamber and locking himself in to make sure she would definitely not come after him.
He changed into dry clothes and collapsed on his bed, falling asleep practically immediately, he heard the loud thunder outside his window.
He woke up as always before dawn, looking tiredly at the grey, overcast sky. He murmured under his breath seeing that it wasn't raining and rose, putting on his trousers, dressing his boots lazily.
He liked to practice in the morning, in solitude, before everyone else was up. Dueling with Royce was interesting and over the years they had formed a wordless, close bond, however he liked to train alone sometimes, wanting to surprise him later with an unexpected blow.
He stepped out into the courtyard and was immediately struck by the crisp, pleasant, refreshing air. He picked up one of the long swords and turned it around a few times in his hand, wanting to check that it lay well in his hand. He shuddered and almost fell over when he felt someone suddenly jump onto his back.
"Brother!" He heard a happy girlish squeal, someone's arms were embracing his neck from behind, her legs clenched around his waist.
"− fuck! − gods −" He hissed, feeling his heart pounding like a mad, looking back over his shoulder, although he knew perfectly well who he was going to see.
He felt her warm breath on his cheek, her pleasant floral scent filled his nose, her bright eyes shining with genuine joy at the sight of him, her cheeks warm and flushed from the cold. She giggled seeing the look on his face.
"Where is your vigilance?" She asked amused and he snorted.
"Get off." He growled in frustration and pushed her away so that she had to slide back off the ground.
He looked at her frustrated, his lips tightened into a straight line in shame.
"Can you finally stop doing that?" He said coolly, looking down at her, but she only smiled wider, putting her hands at her sides, not making anything of his words.
Only now did he realise that she too was wearing her training attire, tight black trousers, a buff white chemise, and over that an embroidered corset pleasantly hugging her slender waist, her long dark hair tied in a braid.
He swallowed loudly as he looked at her, wondering helplessly why he always lost his confidence in her presence.
She was driving him off balance.
"Forgive me. I couldn't help myself when I saw you." She said meekly, walking up to him with a light step, standing in front of him, her face gentle and happy.
She was glad to see him.
She was glad he was back.
He felt embarrassed at her words and looked away, pressing his lips together. She saw how tense he was and obviously felt remorse, because she lowered her gaze.
"I thought you'd come back last evening." She said softly, looking up at him again, her eyes big, sincere, warm.
She was always direct, always spoke straight from her heart, but there was no pressure or expectation of reciprocation, of an answer. Her sincerity straddled him and he usually didn't know what to make of it, embarrassed and confused by her words.
"Something kept me in King's Landing." He replied briefly and dryly, looking at the hilt of his sword, turning it steadily in his hand, pressing its tip to the ground.
"I hope the princess' delivery was quick and easy and that her children are healthy." She said softly, with genuine interest and concern.
"Mmm." That was the only thing that came out of his mouth. He felt an awkward silence ensue between them, as it always did, but she seemed to make nothing of it.
"Will it bother you if I practise archery next to you?" She finally asked politely, calmly, looking at him expectantly, shifting from foot to foot.
"Do what you want." He said dryly, turning the sword in his hand again and turning his back to her, striking one of the targets with his blade.
She answered him nothing to this, standing in silence for a moment, and then he heard her move as she approached one of the tables, taking from it the bow she always chose, given to her by her father. She positioned herself sideways to him, aiming at the shield from a long distance and hit the target immediately. They practised like this in silence until Royce finally joined them.
She and Royce formed a very strong bond between them, which manifested itself in their constant conversations and closeness. He watched from the side as Royce embraced her, picked her up, leaned against her while standing next to her and felt embarrassed, never having been this close to Helaena himself, and even if he had been, he would not have had the courage to show it to her in this way.
She knew she couldn't afford the same type of closeness to him and didn't even try. She circled around him with an amused, joyful expression though, her eyes shining brightly at the sight of him, making him feel a tightness in his throat. He could not stop the rapid beating of his heart and the heat that spread through his body when her hand lightly touched his arm when she asked him something or wanted to comfort him.
She loved to surprise him, appearing in front of him out of nowhere, almost giving him a heart attack, and walking away laughing out loud at his expression, leaving him overwhelmed with embarrassment. She repeated that his face was always stony and indifferent and that she was only testing how much she could get out of him.
The exchanges between them were usually unpredictable and chaotic, she never said what he expected of her and it made him perpetually tense in her presence. He didn't even know when she stopped being a child, changing just like him, the height difference between them even greater than before.
It seemed to him as if she were a small wildflower that bloomed day by day, her shapes becoming more and more girlish, embarrassingly pleasing to his eye. Unlike her sisters, she didn't try to look older than she was. She allowed herself to mature slowly, without unnecessary haste, without killing her innocence, joy and lightness.
Pretty soon he began to see with horror that looking at her from the side was working on his mind, drawing reactions from his body that he was ashamed of. He never lay with any woman, being like his mother a faithful follower of the Seven, believing that as a man he should be able to control himself and his desires completely.
He tried to avoid her, but at the same time he couldn't stop the squeeze of excitement in his stomach when she came to him in the library or during their joint training sessions. He never knew what she would do, what she would say, so he pretended to be indifferent, trying not to think about how hard his heart was pounding.
Nevertheless, he did not know what drove him to follow her one evening when, returning from the library, he saw that she was running down to underground crypts in nothing but her nightgown and robe tied loosely around her waist, a candle in her hand. He thought he'd go and scare her like she had done to him, to make her feel what it was like.
That he'll teach her a lesson.
He followed her quietly, watching his every step, feeling like a predator trying to stalk its prey. He saw the faint light of her candle right in front of him, saw her silhouette standing in front of one of the crypts, her head bowed in thought.
He didn't know what possessed him to grab her by her neck with his hand, embracing her waist with his arm and pull her to him so violently that her body slammed into his, a sudden, high-pitched squeal escaped her mouth.
"Fucking unpleasant, isn't it?" He hissed into her ear, feeling her whole body tremble, her breathing accelerated and terrified. His hand tightened on her neck, the closeness of her body made his manhood pulse hard in his trousers.
"I wanted to see if you are able to make other than a happy, laughing face." He whispered mischievously into her ear and felt a shiver run through her body, her hand tightening on his arm.
She turned her head towards him, her eyes big, terrified, red, full of something he couldn't describe, her lips parted slightly. They were both breathing unevenly, they had never stood so close to each other before, a silence fell between them that terrified him.
A silence full of tension.
Say something, he thought, say I'm a nasty bastard, hit me, push me away.
He swallowed loudly when he felt her put her hand on his, her skin soft and warm.
"Today it is ten years since my mother passed away." She whispered in a trembling, soft voice, looking down, and he felt his heart stop.
He lifted his gaze to the sarcophagus with the large stone statue standing on top of it and recognised in it the face of a woman holding a book in her hands. He felt an instant of shame, of guilt, of embarrassment wash over him.
He let go of her, pulling away from her, feeling his heart pounding like mad, terrified that he had gotten completely hard from their momentary closeness.
What was he doing?
He swallowed loudly, feeling like running away, sinking into the ground, disappearing, but he was unable to move.
"I come here often to pray to her to watch over us. Over our whole family. Over you too." She said at the end, and he swallowed silently, staring at the stone floor, unable to look at her, overpowered by shame.
"I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'll never do it again." She whispered quietly and turned away, moving towards the stairs, leaving him with the burning candle.
Since then, she has never startled him again.
Lord Borros celebrated his Name Day sumptuously, inviting first his subordinate lords and vassals to a great feast in Storm's End, and then setting out with his entire retinue for several days hunting in the forest.
He and Royce entered the hall together through a side entrance on the side of their table, set perpendicular to the tables where the other minor lords and guests were seated.
"I'm sure old Lord Errol and Lord Seaworth will get into a fight again. The wine is bad for their minds and they get mad. I don't understand why Father always seats them so close together." He said amused, sitting down in his seat, Aemond's face involuntarily stretched into a smirk at the memory of how Borros had to separate them when Lord Errol started slamming Lord Seaworth's head against the oak table, demanding an apology.
"Were they, by any chance, companions on one of Father's expeditions?" He asked indifferently as he sat down next to him and swallowed quietly noting how the word 'father' had involuntarily slipped from his lips.
Not "our" father.
Not "your" father.
Just father, he reassured himself in his head.
It didn't mean anything.
"Yes, they were best friends, but you know how it is. When there's no war they get bored, so they create reasons for themselves to fight." He said with amusement, reaching for his wine-filled cup, taking a sip from it. Aemond nodded his head.
He was unable to describe what kind of relationship he had with Royce. Royce never acted as if he was lower or higher than him, never let him feel his jealousy of his father, never took it out on him for his failures. Royce simply accepted his presence on the very first day he appeared in Storm's End, and this state of acceptance continued through the years.
He couldn't imagine spending time with Aegon in the way he did with Royce. Royce, unlike him, knew exactly how much he could drink and when he should tell himself enough. He did not read as much as he did, however, he was a man of intelligence, like his father often throwing in apt remarks. He was a good observer, better than Aemond, so in a way they complemented each other on a daily basis.
He looked around the room, Lord Borros was discussing something with concern with his servant, apparently about the order in which the dishes were served or a problem with the wine, which, after all, could not be lacking in his house.
His gaze traveled further and he swallowed loudly, feeling his heart hit harder when he spotted his youngest daugther talking to Ellyn, a wide smile and joy on her face, she was laughing at something, her eyes glowing.
He noticed that she didn't wear gowns like her older sisters who followed fashion of King's Landing. The neckline of her gown did not begin until below her breasts, which were covered only by her undershirt, the sleeves of her gown buff and partly slit, tied with bows from under which the white material of her chemise shone through, her hair tied in an elaborate braid.
Her attire was so impressive to him because she usually dressed similarly to them whether she was training with them or attended her father's hunts. Lord Baratheon's other lords and vassals gave her paternal affection, often laughing that Borros had not one son, but three.
Comparisons to men, however, did not take away her confidence, for she seemed to subconsciously understand that all her femininity and girlhood was released when she laughed and smiled, her face always gentle and warm, surrounded usually by a long, complicated braid.
With frustration, he began to notice that men liked to make small talk with her, finding her an interesting and entertaining companion, unafraid of uncomfortable topics. She would occasionally meet his impatient, tense gaze and he would then turn away, tightening his lips, feeling like a fool.
He pretended not to feel relieved and satisfied when, usually after a while, she sat down next to him, turning to him with some question, her knee pressed against his.
He took a deep sip from his cup, looking away.
Lord Borros finally arose and began his speech, thanking those gathered for coming, mentioning some important battles and people, before formally inviting everyone to eat and dance. With music blaring around them, Royce handed him a plate of roast meat that had literally just appeared on the table in front of them.
He tried to pretend he didn't see young Lord Wylde approach Lord Baratheon's youngest daughter asking her to dance, to which she agreed with a soft, wide smile. He tried not to glance surreptitiously as they circled around each other in the dance, her movements nimble, gentle, innocent, her hand barely touching his.
He took another sip of wine, feeling the artery in his throat pulsate, his heart pounding hard in his chest.
He felt relieved when the dance was over and they bowed to each other. He tensed, however, clenching his hand into a fist as he noticed the young boy leaning over her, whispering something to her ear, and she smiled warmly at him, answering him something quickly.
He felt anger.
He felt frustration.
He felt tension.
He tried to reassure himself with the thought that she was innocent and naïve, and he was making sure nothing happened to her, like the good big brother he actually wasn't.
"What happened?" Royce asked, clearly seeing the tension painted on his face, and he grunted low.
"Young Lord Wylde seems to have taken a liking to your sister." He said offhandedly, feigning indifference, hoping Royce would take an interest in the matter for him. He, however, blinked, glancing at them, then shrugged his shoulders.
"My sister is wise, she can handle him if he's too insistent. Let her have her fun." He said lightly, taking a sip of wine, finishing off the leftover meat on his plate, and Aemond averted his gaze, feeling a tightening in his stomach at his words.
When he saw out of the corner of his eye Floris standing up from her chair he also immediately stood up, knowing that she was going to torment him by talking about topics that he was completely uninterested in. Royce only laughed out loud when he told him he was going to go out into the fresh air for a while, knowing exactly who he was running from.
He went out a side entrance and heard Floris come up behind him, so he changed his plan and instead of the cloisters he headed for the library, knowing that she hadn't peeked in there and certainly wouldn't even stop to look.
He entered the dark room and climbed the stairs to the half-floor where he always sat when he was a child, sitting down on the ground against the wall, running his hand over his face.
He wondered what was actually happening to him, feeling tired and discouraged. He knew that eventually he would have to choose one of Borros' daughters to be his wife, but the Lord of Storm's End had let him know that he was to choose from four, not five.
"As I understand it, you will not consider her. She is still so young and childish, she would not do well in the Red Keep or as your wife. You know her nature, it's like locking a wild bird in a cage. For the rest, I am sure you are certainly interested in more mature women." He said and patted him on the shoulder, paternally, with some expression of masculine tenderness from which he felt a tightening in his throat, and nodded only, without looking him in the face.
He couldn't admit to him that thoughts of her invaded him at night, when he touched himself, when he fucked himself with his hand.
That he imagined she came to his chamber in the middle of the night, scared, innocent, warm, and he took her, slowly and tenderly, placing wet kisses full of desire and devotion on her soft face, listening to her sweet moans.
He squeezed his eye shut at the thought, swallowing loudly, feeling his member pulsate hard at the thought.
He jumped up terrified when he heard the quiet creak of the door and cursed in his mind thinking that it was Floris who had finally found his hiding place.
However, he saw in the faint light of the torch from the corridor that the figure who was looking up at him from below was wearing a completely different dress with large buff sleeves. He felt his heart begin to beat like mad, a cold sweat on the back of his neck.
"Brother? Everything all right?" He heard her quiet, worried voice, she spoke almost in a whisper, as if she was afraid someone would hear her. His voice caught in his throat.
He couldn't get anything out.
Go away, he thought pleadingly, but she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
She walked slowly upstairs, lifting her gown with her hands to avoid trampling on it, and knelt down next to him on the floor with a loud rustle, her scent immediately hitting his nostrils. He turned his head, terrified, feeling that he was already completely hard, his chest rising and falling anxiously.
"Are you unwell?" She asked uncertainly, glancing at him, but he didn't dare look at her. He shook his head slowly and heard her swallow quietly.
"Do you want me to leave you alone?" She asked again after a moment, and he pressed his lips together, feeling that his whole body was fighting not to throw himself at her, his breathing quickened and anxious, his face stony. He didn't look at her.
He answered nothing.
"I missed you." She whispered at last, and he felt a squeeze in his heart, a pain as if someone had stuck a needle in his chest. "When you're gone something is missing. Royce too…"
"Stop it." He growled colder than he would have liked, frustrated and terrified.
"Why are you telling me this?" He asked impatiently, looking at her suddenly, breathing hard, his hand clenched into a fist as if he was about to hit her. He saw her frightened, warm gaze, saw that she couldn't understand him, what frustrated him and what pleased him. She swallowed loudly, surprised by his sudden outburst.
"You think I want to listen to this? I'm not your brother. Have you forgotten who I am already? Do you feel better when you forget that you should bow before me?" He exhaled in one breath, feeling the poison gathering in his heart fly out of him like a bloodthirsty wave, drowning everything around them, including her and him.
He felt a pang of remorse as he saw her face contort in pain, as if he had slapped her across the face, she blinked rapidly tightening her lips, pulling away from him slightly, raising her arms as if in a gesture of defence, her body breathless all over. She swallowed quietly, her mouth quivering as she spoke her next words.
"To me, you will always be my brother." She said in a trembling voice, and he felt anger and hopelessness at her words.
He did not want to be her brother.
Not when she wasn't a Targaryen.
Not when he wanted to fuck her.
She squealed loudly as his hand brutally clamped down on her hair and pulled her close with a sudden movement so that she literally slammed into his body, falling over, catching his arms to keep her balance, her terrified face millimetres from his. They both breathed loudly as they stared at each other for a long moment, he felt his head spin from the smell of her.
He felt a shudder pass through him as her hand touched his scarred cheek uncertainly, his member pulsed painfully hard, leaving him breathless. Shivers ran down the back of his neck as her fingers slid slowly down his skin to his lips, pulsating and swollen. He pulled her face closer, their foreheads touching.
He glanced at her lips, soft, pink, full, and then again at her eyes, warm, misty, surrounded by beautiful dark lashes like a veil. His hand inch by inch drew her closer and closer, he could feel her accelerated breath wrapping around his face. The tip of his nose ran over her soft cheek and they both trembled, a quiet, sweet sigh escaped her lips, her fingers ran down his cheek.
When his lips brushed hers they both froze, looking at each other with misty eyes, breathing loudly. He waited for her reaction, for her to pull away, to shake her head and tell him no. But she didn't move an inch, her whole body quivered, her mouth parted as if invitingly, encouragingly. He leaned towards her, his thirsty lips pressed against hers, soft, fleshy, wonderfully moist.
She whispered his name quietly, and he kissed her again, each time more surely, more deeply, drawing her closer, her hand tightening on his cheek. Their hot, swollen lips danced with each other with a sticky, wet click that sent shivers through him, his free arm hugging her waist and pulling her closer, forcing her to sit on his lap.
They both panted into each other's mouths feeling their hands travel uncertainly over their bodies, the pads of his fingertips touching her hair, her nape, her neck, her cheeks, her waist, repeating it all over again.
His manhood pulsed in his trousers so hard that once in a while a low, helpless groan of pleasure ripped from his throat straight into her mouth, her lips responding timidly to his caresses, her hand trailing through his hair and down his neck.
Aroused to the limit, with a pounding heart, he tentatively slipped the tip of his tongue into her parted lips as if to see how she would react, whether it would be too much. He felt her tremble all over and draw in a loud breath, her fingers clenching tighter on his hair.
He repeated the movement of his tongue and got the same wonderful reaction out of her. He moaned loudly when he felt tips of their tongues come into contact and lick, a strong shudder ran through his body, his hands tightening on the material of her gown.
They both flinched and pulled away immediately, looking at each other in horror when they heard someone grab the doorknob and then the door swung open with a loud creak. They both stood up, swallowing loudly, noticing Royce who was frowning through the lack of light and only saw them on the balcony a moment later.
"I've been looking everywhere for you, what are you doing here?" He asked surprised and amused, seeing their faces.
"I felt unwell. The wine made me sick." He choked out wearily, avoiding her, feeling like his heart was about to leap out of his chest, running down the stairs.
"I'm better now, let's go." He said, stepping out into the corridor, trying to stop his body shaking and the sights he saw before his eyes. He was glad his robe was long enough to cover what was going on in his trousers.
Her soft lips pressed against his, her hand in his hair, her flowery, fresh scent, her warm breath, the trembling of her body, her tongue licking his.
He swallowed loudly, stepping back into the great hall, immediately bombarded with questions from Floris as to where he had gone for so long. He didn't answer her, sidestepping her, sitting down in his seat, taking a few deep sips of wine to calm himself.
What had he done?
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
What if she tells Royce? Or Father?
He ran his hand over his chin at that thought, feeling a tightening in his stomach, glancing nervously at the entrance.
He thought Borros would kill him if he found out.
A moment later, she and Royce also entered the room, her face pale, though she tried to smile, Royce telling her something amused.
She didn't tell him, he thought with relief.
Their gazes met and he immediately looked away, feeling her soft, wet tongue between his lips again, his member pulsed painfully in his trousers, demanding to be relieved at last.
Never before had he come so quickly fucking himself with his own hand as he had that evening. The loud, low moan of relief and delight that broke from his throat was silenced by the pillow into which he pressed his face, his body trembling in spasms. He involuntarily whispered her name as he slowly came down from his peak, his eye tightened, a quiet panting came from his mouth.
He was disgusted with himself and what he had done.
He was disgusted at how pleasant it felt.
She was so innocent.
In the morning he felt crushed by remorse, by the fact that he had frightened her, that she herself did not know what had happened between them. That she thought for certain he wanted to take advantage of her, to profit from the pleasure of her body and nothing more. He knew she would go hunting with them, she always went, helping Borros instead of his servants.
He did not know how he would look her in the face.
He decided he would try to go to Lord Borros and convince him somehow to let him stay in the fortress.
"This is time for you and your children." He said to him, Lord Borros' servant was just helping him put on a robe of thicker, warmer material designed for being outside in cold temperatures. Borros snorted at his words.
"My four daughters are staying and that I can understand, but you? Both my sons are to participate in the hunt." He said more commanding than stating. Aemond looked at him, pretending to feel nothing at his words.
"I am not your son."
Borros pressed his lips together at his words. He waved his hand impatiently and ordered the servant to leave them alone. After a moment, the door closed behind him and a tense silence fell between them. He felt his heart pounding fast. Borros looked at him, wrinkling his wide, dark brows.
"You are not my son by blood, but I raised you. I made you a man. You and Royce are to come with me. Do you understand?" He asked low and clear, with the impatience characteristic of him when he was frustrated. Aemond swallowed loudly and nodded his head.
You are not my son by blood, but I raised you.
I made you a man.
He did not want to admit to himself how much relief he felt at his words.
He no longer knew who he was and who he was not.
A dragon prince would never be an ordinary stag.
However, why was it that whenever Borros spoke in his presence he felt a respect and awe for him that made him unable to stand up to him? That he didn't remind him of who he was, how he should address him?
Part of him wanted to be Royce's brother, wanted to be Borros Baratheon's son.
But he also wanted something else.
Someone else.
He wondered, riding his mount beside Royce through the dense forest whether she would agree if he asked for her hand. Would she give up everything she loved for him and leave with him to the Red Keep, to the inheritance that was his by blood and law. He swallowed quietly, ashamed of the direction his thoughts were taking.
He was desperate.
When they arrived at the spot in the field where the large tents slowly floated he spotted her from afar talking quickly to his father about something and he lowered his head, terrified, dismounting from his horse, thinking only of what he had done the night before.
However, as Borros approached them in her company he began to talk about where they would be going and what they were hunting, his voice focused and pleased with the weather and the fact that it was not raining. Aemond swallowed loudly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked away from him as soon as she noticed he was looking at her.
She didn't tell him, he thought with relief and regret at the same time.
Perhaps if he found out the truth and required an explanation, he would have the courage to take her for himself and demand her hand.
He was not surprised when Borros ordered that all three of them and a few companions from his old days would accompany him on a deer hunt. His youngest daughter was, as usual, armed with a bow, much to her father's delight hitting a partridge from long distances. Borros patted her firmly on the back so that she bent under the powerful strokes of his broad palm.
"Very good." He said lightly, walking on, ordering them to move north. He saw her give him a quick glance and then immediately turn her head away, tightening her lips, all red, and run after her father.
The hunt was a success and they returned to camp with enough meat to feed all comers. Large bonfires were lit in front of the tents, the cooks skinning and quartering the animals before his eyes. Royce and he sat down under one of the trees, exhausted.
Royce called out to his sister when he spotted her from afar to rest with them, and he felt a twist in his stomach, looking away, feigning indifference.
His younger sister approached them uncertainly, trying to converse lightly with her brother about something, her hands clenched in her lap. After a moment, Borros called out to his son from a distance, saying that he needed to help him move some things, and he got up at once and ran towards him, leaving them alone. They both turned their heads, unable to look at each other, a protracted, awkward silence all around them.
Aemond looked at the sun setting in the distance which he could see between the trees, feeling his heart pounding. It seemed to him that what had happened between them earlier in the night was just a figment of his imagination.
"I will not disturb you, my prince." She said softly, quietly, pained, lifting herself from the grass, and he looked at her surprised, his jaw clenched in a held breath at her words as he watched her walk away.
My prince.
When Royce returned he told him he needed to drink some wine. He drank more than usual, watching her from afar like a predator, seeing her cast him an uncertain, frightened glance once in a while. He was frustrated and full of anger that he didn't know what to do with.
He decided to go to bed early, drunk, tired and discouraged. Royce urged him to stay up, that the campfires would burn late into the night, but he had neither the strength nor the desire to feast.
He moved towards his tent and went inside, slowly undoing the buckles of his jacket, pulling it off and throwing it indifferently on the grass beside his bed. He heard someone come inside and thought it was his servant, so he loudly dismissed him, but the person who had entered did not move from his place.
"− Brother −" He heard her quiet, uncertain voice and froze, his body went through a shiver. He turned slowly to her over his shoulder, his gaze expressing shock. He couldn't believe she had come, his heart was pounding like mad. His mind was foggy, he felt uncertain and helpless, his hands involuntarily clenched into fists.
"What are you doing here?" He asked coolly, low, coldly, and she swallowed loudly, her large, warm eyes full of terror and uncertainty, she was pale.
She opened and closed her mouth several times but nothing came out of her throat, she rubbed her fingers together in a nervous gesture.
"− I − what happened yesterday −" She mumbled out, but he interrupted her in mid-sentence afraid of what she wanted to say.
"− forget about it −" He replied, turning away from her, untying the binding of his trousers, wanting to get rid of them before lying down on his bed. "− something else? −"
She turned her head away, embarrassed and hurt by his words and what he was doing, swallowing loudly, her brow furrowed as if in pain.
"− I want you to know that I won't tell anyone about this − that's all −" She whispered turning away and walked out, leaving him with a pounding heart and a feeling of overwhelming shame.
He ran his hand over his face and, in a gesture of anger, threw all his dishes off the table, which fell to the ground with a loud clang of metal.
Why did it have to be her?
He put his palms on the table, leaning his head forward, unable to calm himself, breathing loudly through his mouth.
Why couldn't it be Ellyn?
She was sweet, pretty, modest, well-read, quiet.
So why?
He came out of his tent like a living fury and stormed aggressively into her tent, heard her squeal of surprise as she jumped up on her bed, covering herself with fur, sitting up in only her nightgown.
She looked up at him with her mouth gaping open and her eyes wide as he ripped the furs from her hands, revealing her body peeking out from under the thin white material in front of him, her breath caught in her throat as he lay down on top of her, pressing her body against the bedding, his member pulsing hard between her thighs.
"− brother − what are you −" She whispered terrified, shivering all over, clasping her hands on his chemise.
"− tell me to stop −" He breathed out grabbing her trembling thighs in his hands, lifting them slightly and spreading them out in front of him, panting along with her, looking at her face full of disbelief. "− tell me to stop or I'll take what I want −"
He said in a raspy voice, his tongue invading between her swollen lips bringing out a helpless, drawn-out, surprised moan, her hands still clenched on the material of his shirt. He ran his hard, throbbing manhood hidden under the material between her thighs and she trembled all over, whimpering into his mouth.
He pulled away from her with a loud, wet click, looking at her like a madman, panting loudly along with her, parting her lower lip with his thumb, his hips rubbing against her in a slow back and forth motion.
"− say it −" He whispered more weakly, looking down at her, her face flushed and red, her lips parted in a ragged breath, a quiet moan came from her mouth each time he pressed her womanhood again.
"− please, make me stop − please −" He growled out helplessly, but her lips only parted more at his words, her thighs spread wider in front of him, her hand running over his cheek.
He squeezed his eye shut, feeling her lower lip brush his, her hips tentatively began to respond to his movements, rubbing against him, driving him wild. He felt like he was about to explode.
"− please −" He panted into her mouth, the tips of their tongues licking each other, a sweet, lingering mewl came from her lips. His trembling hands slid from her thigh to her buttocks, squeezing them uncertainly, he sighed in delight feeling how soft she was.
"− please − please −" He sighed in a trembling voice, but her hands weaved into his hair and drew him closer, her fingers trailing down his neck, slipping under his chemise, running over his back, leaving goosebumps in the areas of her touch. They both began to moan quietly and pant into each other's mouths, their kisses messy and loud, wet, sticky from their saliva.
"− marry me −" He exclaimed helplessly, lifting her chemise higher, revealing to him the bare skin of her thigh and what lay between them. Slowly he slid his hand there, trembling along with her, her body quivering at his words, a loud sigh escaping her lips.
"− say you'll marry me −" He whispered, running his nose over her cheek, sliding down to her ear and then to her neck, placing slow, wet kisses on her skin. They both moaned helplessly as his fingers ran over her womanhood, so intimately hidden, so now exposed, her expression of complete trust in him.
He sighed wearily when he felt her juices on his fingers, wet and sticky, again and again running his hand over her entrance, her skin there hot, pulsing with heat. He felt her fingers tighten on his back, writhing beneath him each time his palm ran over the point hidden between her folds, a helpless sob escaping from her throat, her lips parted wide, droplets of sweat running down her skin.
"− Aemond −" She whimpered pleadingly, as if she were crying out to him for help, as if she were asking him to save her. He trembled all over at the sound of his name spoken so directly, so unashamedly, intimately, he felt as if his member would explode with arousal.
He began to deliberately massage her where his touch was driving her mad, his fingertips spreading her moisture all over her womanhood, his lips clinging to hers again, trying to silence her increasingly loud moans.
"− hush, my little one − someone will hear us − shhh −" He silenced her by sliding his tongue deep between her lips, almost to her throat, her hips began to move faster and faster towards his hand, searching for any source of friction.
"− Aemond − what are we doing −" She mumbled quietly between sticky kisses and the licking of their tongues, his fingers massaging around her pearl in a circular intense motion, running over her hot entrance once in a while. He tentatively slid the tip of his finger into her throbbing insides, and she trembled all over, drawing in air loudly.
"− what husband and wife do − what we're going to do every night −" He breathed out into her mouth and a quiet, sweet, surprised moan escaped her throat, he felt her wetness flowing from her entrance into his palm, he felt her body on edge, her thighs were quivering all under his hand, her hips pushing greedily against his fingers. He slid his finger into her with a wet click of her juices as his thumb continued to tease her pearl.
"− I − gods, it feels so warm − it tickles me so much inside −" She mewled, panting loudly, clearly feeling the tension gathering in her lower abdomen, and he thought with delight that she was about to come on his hand.
"− say you'll marry me −" He said in a raspy voice, watching as her body wriggled in front of him him in pleasure, her mouth wide open, her eyes looking at him in a way from which he felt like just throwing himself on top of her and sliding inside her.
"− I will − I will, please −" She cried out and suddenly froze, leaning back, pressing her cheek against the pillow.
An exasperated, pleading, startled moan erupted from her throat, she clenched her eyes shut as if what was just going through her body was too much. Waves of pleasure shook her body, and he watched the sight in disbelief, seeing female fulfilment for the first time in his life.
His hand involuntarily slid out from between her thighs and slid into his trousers, gripping his painfully hard manhood. He forced her to look up at him by clamping his hand over her cheeks and he pressed himself into her lips, panting along with her, massaging himself intensely and quickly. He felt his fulfilment approaching embarrassingly fast, her scent, the touch of her lips and what he saw was enough to keep him on edge.
"− my sweetest − gods − oh, fuck −" He growled out into her mouth panting hard as he felt his hot cum spill over his hand, a wonderful relief and pleasure filled his whole body and lower abdomen, he could hear her loud breathing, her hand gently stroking his hair and cheek, calming him, soothing him.
He collapsed on top of her at last, panting hard, not believing it had really happened. They lay like that, both of them breathing loudly, not saying a word, all around them the voices of drunken men arguing with each other and discussing loudly. He could feel their bodies trembling, hot with fulfilment. He pressed his face to her cheek, his lips against her ear.
"− Do you want me to leave? −" He asked in an uncertain, trembling voice, terrified of what he had done, what she would think of him now, what their father would think if he found out. He felt her small hands tightening on his chemise, her hand running through his hair.
"Stay with me."
So he stayed.
When he woke up, her warm body was snuggled against his chest, her fingers tightened on the material of his chemise as if she was afraid he would change his mind and leave her in the middle of the night.
He embraced her with his hands, his face snuggled into her hair, his nose filled with her wonderful scent.
He had never felt so fulfilled before.
So peaceful.
So safe.
He only gently disentangled himself from her sleeping embrace before dawn, not wanting anyone to see him leaving her tent and jump to hasty conclusions.
He also needed to speak to their father.
He had never before seen Lord Borros so furious as when he told him he had made his choice. His foster father prowled around the tent like an enraged animal as he sat in his chair, tense, playing with his fingers.
"She's just a child. I thought you had more sense." He hissed at him, and Aemond threw him a cold, displeased look.
"She is no longer a child. Would you rather she married a stranger instead of giving her to me? To your son?" He asked, his voice trembling uncertainly at his last words. Borros looked at him furrowing his eyebrows, on his face was painted the struggle that had just been going on in his mind.
"I will not hurt her. She will be safe with me." He said calmly what he really thought. Borros snorted at his words.
"In King's Landing, between one fire-breathing dragon and another fighting for crown and power? I don't want to see my youngest child perish in the flames of Targaryen greed!" He exclaimed in a low breaking voice, and he felt a pain in his chest, swallowing loudly, taken completely by surprise by his words.
I don't want to see my youngest child perish in the flames of Targaryen greed.
"It's her or none, Father." He said coldly, clenching his hands into fists, not looking away even though he wanted to.
He heard Borros growl with rage, furiously turning to his servant to summon his youngest daughter at once.
Aemond felt discomfort at the thought that perhaps she had changed her mind.
That she had only agreed under emotions, and now regretted it.
He was unable to look at her when he heard her enter the tent, Borros immediately turned to her, his voice raised and impatient.
"Prince Aemond asks for your hand, daughter. Did you know about this?" He asked menacingly, referring to all the confusion he had caused with his decision. Aemond felt his heart pounding as he waited for her words, his hands clenched into fists.
"Yes. I...I have already agreed." She whispered so quietly that he barely heard. He swallowed loudly glancing at her finally, she was pale and frightened, looking at her father pleadingly, terrified of his anger.
"You have no idea what you agreed to, child." He said, half furious, half terrified, running his hand over his face, shaking his head, still pacing around the tent, unable to control himself.
"I do not want anyone else." She mumbled with difficulty, looking pleadingly at her father, on the verge of tears. Aemond felt warm in his chest at her words and pressed his lips together.
I do not want anyone else.
Without opposition from his daughter, Borros really had no choice. When they confirmed several times that they knew what they were doing and that it was what they wanted, he gave up, heartbroken, and ordered to summon a scribe, wanting to send a letter to King's Landing.
Neither he nor she had the courage to tell anyone what had happened.
Word of his decision spread like wildfire, however, and he had to deal with a barrage of questions from Royce, shocked and unsure if he was doing the right thing.
"But why her, brother? She is so young. I mean…I was sure you'd choose Ellyn." He said, scratching his chin, just as embarrassed as he was by this conversation. Aemond didn't know what to say to him.
"I...when I looked at her... fuck. I think I knew it from the beginning." He muttered, running his hand over his face in shame, all tense, glancing at Royce, who stared at him in disbelief.
His reaction was nothing compared to the despair and bitterness that gripped his sisters.
Cassandra took it best, with dignity, though her face twisted in pain as their father informed them of his decision at the evening feast. Maris turned pale and pursed her lips, but said nothing. Ellyn let out a loud, breaking sob, got up and left, unable to look at him.
Floris asked if it was a joke.
He looked at his betrothed, pale and on the verge of tears, weighed down by what was happening around her, by what he had condemned her to.
"The king and queen have decided that the nuptials will take place in two months." Their father continued, ignoring his daughter's brazen questions. Floris interrupted him again.
"My prince, is it true? Did our father force you to make this decision?" She asked in disbelief, it was clearly beyond her mind that he could make such a decision of his own free will. He took a sip of wine from his goblet and set it down with a loud clang of metal.
"Quite the opposite. Your father tried to dissuade me from this decision, to no avail." He spoke low, coldly, his eye fixed on the one he desired, the one he chose. She looked at him, her eyes sad and terrified.
He pressed his lips greedily to hers, pinning her against the cool stone wall of the corridor as soon as they were alone, wiping tears from her face as they ran down her cheeks, absorbing her every silent sob.
"Tell me you haven't changed your mind." He gasped into her mouth, brushing them and caressing them with a loud, sticky click. She threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with such ferocity that he moaned low into her throat.
It was her answer.
To his relief, his betrothed wished their lives to go on as before. She didn't make him take romantic walks together on the cliff's edge, didn't expect flowers, letters, or other evidence of constant interest and love from him. Everything she wanted she could see in his gaze, which did not leave her for a moment.
Affection.
Thirst.
Desire.
He didn't have the courage to tell her how much he already wanted her all to himself, how much he wanted her to be the mother of his children.
He couldn't find the words to describe the heat and pride that overwhelmed him at the thought that she would be his wife, that he would be able to touch her shamelessly in front of everyone.
That he would be able to pick her up, embrace her, lean over her, touch her warm cheeks and hands the way Royce did.
No one but them knew that they both sneaked out of their chambers late at night and went to the library, shutting themselves up there, slowly discovering the pleasures and secrets of their bodies. He let her small hands slide his eyepatch off his head, let her place warm, tender kisses on his scar, holding her close.
They lay down on blankets and fabrics that they had scrupulously hidden under one of the shelves behind the books, finding lying on the stone floor very uncomfortable.
Aemond did not dare to pull off her nightgown, wanting to show her respect and make her feel safe, but the mere sight of her naked body through the translucent fabric was enough to stimulate his senses completely and drive him mad.
He let himself kiss her soft, firm breasts through the thin material and she let out sweet sighs of delight, her hand stroking his hair as she pressed his face closer to her chest, signalling him not to stop.
He had no experience with women before her, so he wanted to understand exactly what gave her fulfillment, what touch and movement of his fingers made her spasm, what his words whispered in her ear made her suddenly come on his hand with a sweet sobs of pleasure.
He felt embarrassed and aroused when she whispered to him one night if she could touch him there.
Their lips connected and parted in sticky, lustful kisses as her trembling fingers untied the tie of his trousers, timidly slipping her hand underneath them. They both froze and inhaled loudly as her fingers traced againt his length, a low, helpless, guttural moan escaping his lips.
"− fuck −" He gasped into her mouth, surprised at how intense the sensation was, how pleasantly soft and gentle her hand felt.
He saw her timid gaze fixed on his face, her cheeks red with shame at what she was doing, at the feeling of his hard member under her fingers.
"− do you want me to stop? −" She asked softly between their tender, sweet kisses.
He responded by taking her hand gently in his, squeezing her fingers around his manhood, guiding her up and down, his member throbbing painfully hard in her embrace.
"− no −" He whispered in response, panting with her, his hips involuntarily moving to the rhythm of her hand, searching for any source of rubbing.
"− how will it look like − on our wedding night? −" She asked softly, her voice slightly trembling, looking at him with dreamy eyes, what she was doing apparently aroused her as much as him.
His member pulsed harder in her hand at her question, he licked his lips involuntarily, imagining what he would be able to do with her.
He didn't know how to describe it without scaring her.
"− I − ah − I'm going to touch you between your thighs − and then −" He gasped, pressing his lips together, feeling shivers all over his body, his hips moving faster and faster in her hand, which massaged him with a steady, intense motion.
"− fuck − and then I'll put this inside you −" He whispered in a shaky voice into her mouth as he pressed his forehead against hers, gripping his hand tighter over hers as she squeezed him.
He heard her draw in a sharp breath, she stared at him wide-eyed, unsure of what she thought of what she had just heard.
"− will it be painful? −" She asked softly with fear, and he kissed her again, slipping his tongue between her fleshy lips, drawing a soft moan from her. He broke away from her with a wet click, looking at her with his mouth slightly parted, feeling the heat and tension gathering in his lower abdomen.
"− no − I − I'll do anything to make you feel good −" He mumbled helplessly, their lips pressed together again in a lewd, sticky kiss, her breathing ragged and uneven.
"− can you − can you do it now? − just for a try −" She whispered softly and he froze, staring at her in disbelief, his heart pounding like crazy.
"− I − we shouldn't before our nuptials −" He muttered hesitantly, though his whole body was screaming for him to throw himself at her and just slide inside her. She swallowed loudly at his words.
"− I know − I just − I wish I knew what it felt like − so I wouldn't be afraid −" She mumbled helplessly and his heart clenched, a million of his thoughts fighting together at the same time in his head. He propped himself up precariously on one elbow, laying between her thighs, gripping the fabric of his trousers.
"− just for a moment − agreed? −" He said in a trembling voice, his whole body quivering. She nodded quickly, breathing heavily, trustingly allowing him to lift the fabric of her nightgown higher.
They both gasped loudly as he slid his trousers down enough to release his hard, throbbing manhood. He leaned over her soft, warm face, placing a gentle, tender kiss on her lips, directing the tip of his member to her wet, throbbing entrance.
"− spread your thighs wider − yes, just like that −" He praised her, brushing her lips again, terrified of what he was about to do, yet feeling like he was about to explode with lust and desire.
They both moaned in surprise as he pressed his length against her entrance and slid a little inside her, she was so tight and hot that he was out of breath. He saw her lips tighten as he pressed harder against her, her eyebrows arching in discomfort.
"− fuck − breathe deeply − relax − does it hurt a lot? −" He whispered in a trembling voice looking at her, with remnants of his free will refraining from any movements. She shook her head.
"− n-no − I mean − a little − just − you're so big −" She mumbled out, a blush of embarrassment on her cheeks, her gaze warm, her lips puffy and pink with emotion. He licked his lips involuntarily at her words, feeling pride and shame at the same time.
"− you did this to me − always make me so fucking hard −" He exhaled in a trembling voice, his hands sliding down between her thighs, gently parting folds of her entrance with his thumbs, trying to help himself and her. He felt her draw in a loud breath and clench her eyes shut.
He heard her swallow hard and begin to breathe loudly through her mouth, inhaling and exhaling, her body shivering all over under him. He felt her walls stop pressing down on him so panicky, and he pushed deeper into her, sighing loudly, her mouth parting wide at the feeling of so intense filling. Hearing no objection from her, he thrust his hips again, entering her all the way in with a loud groan.
He stared down at her, breathing hard, letting her get used to this strange, intense feeling, and then he pulled out slowly only to thrust into her again. They both gasped loudly as he began to move inside her, slowly, hesitantly, telling himself he would stop soon.
"− you're so warm −" He panted in a trembling voice, delighted at how amazing it felt to be squeezed from all sides by her hot, tight, fleshy wet walls, all sticky with her juices, feeling a woman's insides for the first time in his life.
Her mouth parted wide and she mewled loudly as slowly his hips began to accelerate, thrusting his member into her with a loud, sticky slap, a quivering, low gasp of pleasure emanating from his throat.
"− Aemond −" She mumbled helplessly, her body trembling with each of his thrusts, panting louder and louder with him, her hands clenching on his sides. He threw her legs over his back, wanting to feel her deeper, pushing her insides to the limit with his length. She sobbed loudly at the feeling, throwing her head back.
"− just a little longer −" He panted with difficulty, feeling only pleasure, only wonderful tension and her throbbing walls that brought him closer and closer to fulfillment.
He knew he should stop, but instead he fucked her harder and harder, feeling her walls clenching on him, sticky, wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the stone room, they both moaned embarrassingly loudly, he felt he was on the verge of fullfilment.
"− don't stop − please, don't pull it out −" He heard her whimpering underneath him from which his lips parted wide in shock, her body going into spasms each time he slid into her again pressing her upper wall, clearly giving her immense pleasure with these movements.
A helpless groan ripped from his throat at her words, he slid into her with a rapid, intense motion, clamping his hands tightly on the soft, sweaty skin of her hips. He felt a shudder run through him as her hips began to respond to his thrusts, coming up to meet him.
"− I have to, my little one − shhh, it's okay −" He whispered into her mouth sliding his tongue between her lips, licking their swollen, fleshy texture, the taste of her saliva spreading across his palate like the sweetest juice.
"− I − I'm about to −" She mumbled with difficulty, her thighs responding greedily to his every thrust, he panted loudly along with her, feeling her core begin to tighten and pulsate against him, he knew what that meant.
"− go on − come on my cock, sweet girl −" He cooed encouragingly, wanting nothing more than that, to see her fulfil, himself being on the edge, his thrusts messy and sloppy.
His words were enough to make her insides clench around his length tightly, then again and again, letting out of him an almost animalistic groan, her body leaning back as if trying to escape from him, he had to cover her mouth with his hand to silence her loud, high-pitched sobs.
"− you did so well − oh fuck, little one −" He growled out, with the remnants of his strong will sliding out of her, cuming hard on her nightgown, his warm semen spilling over her white transparent material while he was still massaging himself with his hand.
She stared at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily, her whole body trembled from the fulfilment and waves of pleasure that continued to flow through her. He swallowed loudly, looking down at her with misty eye, licking his lips.
"− did it hurt? −" He asked in a shaky, low voice, and she blinked and pursed her lips in embarrassment.
"− only − only at the beginning −" She mumbled softly and he hummed under his breath, proud to see that he had given her pleasure, that she enjoyed what they had done as much as he did, and tied his trousers back up. They both glanced sheepishly at the wet spot on her nightgown.
He leaned over her and brushed her lips gently, tenderly, her mouth swollen and wet with arousal. He ran his thumb over her cheek, looking at her with a pounding heart filled only with his affection for her.
Only with love.
"On our wedding night, not a drop will be wasted."
_____
Note from the author:
Lady Baratheon and Royce call Aemond brother, but this stems from their desire to shorten the distance between them. Calling him 'a prince' already seemed too staid at one point for them, and addressing him by his first name was unthinkable. However, it is only she and Royce who do this, their sisters still addressing him as 'my prince', not wanting to call "brother" their possibly future husband - which is why Aemond is so frustrated when Lady Baratheon calls him this, as if she is willfully rejecting him as a candidate for the role.
Aemond calls Borros "father" but does not see him as a replacement for Viserys. Viserys is his blood father, who has given him a legacy of which he is proud and with which he completely identifies. Borros, however, is a father figure to him, someone whose opinion Aemond counts with, whom he respects and values for what he has done for him over the years. Aemond has an affection for Borros that he was never able to develop towards Criston.
Despite Lady Baratheon and Royce's very close relationship, they did not relegate Aemond to the background or distance themselves from him. According to Lord Borros and his friends, they formed a trio. Royce was always where Aemond was, loving to watch his mischievous reactions to various events, and Lady Baratheon was always where Royce was, so they usually ended up together.
Aemond usually pretended he didn't care about their company, but the truth was that he got impatient when they disappeared from his sight for too long, simply getting bored without them.
Part two of this oneshot: To desire, to love, to care
Other oneshot form the same AU: Daugther, Lover, Sister
_____
I can't express my love for this reality, I could keep writing this oneshot but I would make a book! This is probably my most beloved fanfic baby. Leave it some love if you enjoyed it! I'm so curious what do you think. 💐
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Taglist
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536 notes · View notes
elsmstrss · 1 year
Note
hey babe i was wondering if you could do ellie w fem reader who's trying to tie up her corset but ellie helps with reader on her lap, but they ended up "not tying" it ykwim🤭
i do know what u mean silly hehehe. ellie williams erotic dress up fic coming right up :D
ellie williams helping you "tie" your corset ;)
tags: ellie williams x afab!reader , modern au , hyperfem!reader , reader is a coquette girly , ellie manspreads , smut , stone top!ellie . bottom!reader , fingering (r!recieving) , lapslock , ellie makes reader watch them in the mirror... yeah , not proofread sorrryyyy
you had been sitting at your vanity, applying the finishes touches to your makeup when you heard the front door to your studio apartment open, your girlfriend's head popping out.
you two were going on a dinner date that evening. you both had been so busy as it was finals season and you both worked as well. it was the first time in a while that you both were free at a time that wasn't the earliest hours of the morning.
you smile and wave her in, eyes following her face as she approaches you. you have lift your head to see her from your sitting position. she leans down to give you a quick peck, "hey pretty".
"hey ellie, 'm almost done. do you mind helping me with my corset? i can't get it tight enough," you pout up at her and ellie gives you a soft smile.
"course babe, c'mere," ellie moves over to your bed, plopping down and spreading her legs, taking up the most space as usual. you stand up from the chair and walk over to the auburn. ellie reaches out for your waist, gently turning your body so your back was to her. you look up at the floor length mirror that leaned against the wall in front of you to see ellie already smirking at you through the reflective glass.
you watch as ellie's eyes travel down your backside, hands reaching out to caress the exposed skin between your neck and shoulder. she runs her fingers through your hair once before gently moving your locks to the other side of your neck. you can't help the shudder from her cold fingertips against your warm skin.
"you look too pretty in this outfit," ellie mutters under your breath. you flush from the compliment, still flustered and surprised from the effect you seem to have on your girlfriend after all this time.
you were wearing a white blouse that was off-the-shoulder. on top was a lace corset that hugged you in all the right places. it was one of your favorites and you knew ellie loved this one too.
ellie's fingers ghosted over the crisscross ribbons on your back, taking the two loose ends and twirling them in her fingers before suddenly pulling harshly.
the sharp intake of your breath causes you to snap your head up, your eyes meeting ellies sleepier ones. "els, gentle please," you tried to scold playfully but it just came out as a low whine, your girlfriend's heated stare causing a stir in your core.
ellie smirks and pulls again, this time forcing you to step back and fall in the small space between her thighs on the bed. a breath escapes you, your eye contact never breaking as ellie's hands are immediately on you.
her hands snake around you, pulling the fabric from your skirt higher up to expose your thighs. her hands latch on and she softly squeezes the warm flesh there. ellie loves your thighs, she constantly snatching any chance she can get to have her hands on them.
you suddenly feel her lips latch onto your neck. she leaves soft kisses before biting and sucking. she's trying to mark you up, always a bit possessive whenever you two are intimate.
ellie's fingers slowly begin to inch closer and closer to your heat. your breathing picks up, the rise and fall of your chest obvious as your breasts spilled from the stop of your corset.
the sight made ellie moan into your ear, "so fucking perfect."
your whine from the praise pitches up at the end as ellies fingers start to stroke over your damp panties. you sigh from the muted stimulation to your clit, fingers wrapping over ellie's wrist to support yourself.
the feeling of ellie's skilled fingers on you almost distract you from her other hand making quick work of your corset, loosening the ties and letting the garment slip down your torso. ellie gives a harsh tug, pulling the blouse under along with it, revealing your tits.
you glance over at the mirror, slightly embarrassed to see yourself like this. your mouth was hanging open a little, stray hairs moving along your face with each pleasured sigh that escapes your lips. your thighs are slightly parted, ellies strong arm covering the view from between your legs. you looked fucked out already, breasts on display and bruises forming along your neck.
"hm, look at you, angel" ellie's back to staring at you through the mirror. she pulls your panties to the side, continuing her movements in between your slick folds.
your eyes roll back to your head. you were always so sensitive, the first touch nearly knocking the breath out of you. "e-ellie," you whimper, brows furrowing.
"i know baby," ellie whispers, gathering your wetness from your entrance and using it to rub little circle to your clit. your mouth hangs open as ellie continues her attention to your cunt. you writhe in her lap, squirming and lifting your hips, desperate.
ellies other hand travels up to your breasts, groping you and flicking your hardened nipple. you moan and bite your lip, the teasing starting to get to you. "please please please."
ellie grips your jaw, forcing you to connect your eyes with her, the expression on her face could only be described as devilish.
"if you're good and keep your eyes open for me, i'll let you come on my fingers. how's that sound, princess? gonna be a good for me?" she licks her lips and slows her movements on your bud. you nod your head frantically, desperate to please your girlfriend.
"use your words my love. come on, you can do it," she teases, eyes never leaving yours.
"i'll be good els," you mewl, embarrassed. ellie awards you with a kiss to the back of your neck, her fingers resuming her previous pace. the consistent abuse to your clit has you reeling, the feeling of your climax building with each second. your eyes slip shut and ellie can tell you're close, her pace quickening.
"els m gonna c-" before you can finish your sentence, ellie promptly removes her finger. "wha? ellie no no!" you sob, your denied orgasm as your clit throbbing with need.
"aw poor baby," ellie fakes sympathy. "but what did i say?"
you whine, realizing your mistake, "'m sorry, i'll be good, promise!" you're eyes get big and doe-like when you shift your gaze to ellie. big tears threaten to fall and ellie coos at you, only feeling a little bad for denying you.
"dont cry my love. dont worry," ellie's fingers travel down to your entrance, slipping her finger into your heat, "i have something much better for you".
she begins to pump her finger in and out of you, adding another finger and stretching you open. your hands grip onto ellies knees, crying out from the intrusion. ellie's fingers are like magic, instantly turning you to putty in her arms.
"oh fuck ellie," you curse. ellie responds by pushing in deeper, rubbing the pads of her fingers on your gummy spot. you can help the loud moan that leaves you. you moan ellie's name over and over, your climax quickly building up again.
"ellie please. ngh 's too much, 'm close- please" you're babbling nonsense now but ellie knows exactly what to do. she whispers encouragements into your ear, her fingers moving faster and harder, the sounds of your wetness and her fingers fill the room. it's filthy and it only turns out on more.
your orgasm hits you like a truck, your body tensing up as waves of pleasure roll from your lower gut to your cunt. you struggle to keep your eyes open but you're glad you do because the sight of ellie spread out behind you, fingers stuffed inside your heat, somehow still calm and collected as you fall apart because of her is almost enough for you to cum again.
your legs shake slightly as you come down from your high. all of a sudden it's far too difficult to hold yourself up so so slump in ellie's hold, the sound of her chuckle causes a grin to break out on your face. you're thoroughly spent.
ellie pulls your top and corset back up, readjusting your panties and skirt after. she fixes the loose hairs from your face and squeezes your waist as you catch your breath.
"as much as i would love to crawl into this bed with you right now, it would be a damn waste when you got all dolled up like this," ellie whispers into your ear as she rocks you softly. you giggle and let out a sigh. you're not even sure if you can walk properly but you can't help but agree with your lover.
921 notes · View notes
jaemmphilia · 7 months
Text
★ 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 ★ || kim s.o
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★ summary: sunoo is the 3rd youngest of the enhypen kingdom's royal family. his oldest brother is in the process of becoming king, and sunoo notices how stressed out poor heeseung is. the young boy goes out to the town's market where he meets [name], a local farmer. for sunoo, it's love at first sight.
★ pairing: farmer!reader x prince!sunoo
★ warnings and rating(16+): semi-modern royal au, sunoo is the prettiest prince (i'm sorry jake, ily bae), some language, reader is taller than heeseung, and is described to have a muscular build
★ word count:
★ binnie's thoughts: sunoo?? he's not my bias, but hes a cutie. enjoy this sweet royalty au, i am so dedicating this fic to my soulmate @inniesyrup
★ requested?: yes, by @onementally-unstabel-kid
★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO WAY represents sunoo or the rest of the enhypen members as people. this fic is simply for entertainment purposes. enjoy!
© triplejracha, 2023. please do not copy to any other platform.
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Being one of the seven princes of the Enhypen Kingdom was tiring, according to Sunoo.
From constantly having to wear clothes that restrict his breathing, to wearing heavy jewelry that hangs on his small frame. It often gets to be too much for him, so he sneaks out at night to visit the town's market to get a feel for what life is like for a commoner.
With his hood draped over his mop of soft, chestnut-colored hair, Sunoo stalks through the crowds of people roaming the town's market.
Sunoo enjoys places like these. Places where everyone knows everyone, places where it feels like a tight-knit family. Now, Sunoo loves his brothers to death, but they also feel like strangers to him. He wishes he could go back to the days when he and his brothers would run through the maze gardens together, giggling as the hot sun warmed their chubby, youthful cheeks.
Now that his two oldest brothers, Heeseung and Jay are in training to take over the throne, things haven't been the same between the seven of them. His brothers are too busy to hang out with him, even if it was only for half an hour. This makes Sunoo feel lonely, the young prince often spends his time alone in the castle's many gardens.
Sunoo is pulled out of his trance when a strong arm pulls him to the side and away from the swarm of people coming toward him. Sunoo panics at first, thinking one of the guards caught him sneaking out of his room. His heartbeat picks up, his breathing coming out in short, sharp huffs.
"Woah there, darlin'! I'm not gonna hurt you!" A warm voice causes Sunoo to stop breathing altogether. The person's voice is gentle, sultry and hearty. Sunoo has never heard such a relaxing sound, he doesn't know how to respond.
"You might wanna close your mouth, you'll start catchin' flies!" The person laughs and Sunoo feels his entire body warm up. The person's voice doesn't sound like the ones he's used to, it sounds more…country.
Sunoo finally looks at the man, his eyes falling on a solid chest. The man is tall. Well, taller than Sunoo. He might even be taller than Heeseung.
Sunoo's eyes travel up, his breath catching in his throat as he observes the man in front of him. The man has a warm aura about him, he reminds Sunoo of the warm September sun before the season turns cold. The man feels cozy, his eyes searching Sunoo's face. Sunoo hopes the young man doesn't recognize him and turns him into the guards that patrol the market.
"Are you lost, darling? I haven't seen a pretty face like yours around here," the man says, the warmth on Sunoo's arm leaving as soon as he could even register it.
"No, I'm not lost," Sunoo says, his voice trailing off as he fails to take his eyes off the handsome stranger in front of him. Sunoo usually has no problems talking to new people, but this young man is different, he can tell. "I'm from… the next town over."
As Sunoo stares at the man, it begins to click in his brain. This is the same man who delivers fresh produce to the castle for him and his family to enjoy. Sunoo can't recall if he has ever had a conversation with the man, and his stomach drops at the thought of the man knowing who he really is.
Sunoo is surprised that he was able to lie so fast, but he's even more surprised that the male doesn't recognize him.
"Oh! Let me be the first to welcome you to the small town of Dark Blood!" the young man beams, his pearly teeth on display for Sunoo, "my name is [Name] and I run that produce stand just over there." [Name] points to a stand with various types of fruits and vegetables.
Sunoo is aware of that. He's very aware that [Name]'s family owns a large farm just a few blocks from the castle. Sunoo flashes [Name] a shy smile and allows the taller man to drag him around the market he's been to a million times now.
Sunoo finds himself sitting on a haybed at the Jung Family Farm. As he takes in his surroundings, he begins to realize that this might be his favorite place outside of the castle.
The moon had begun to set long ago, the sun's bright rays peeking up over the large hills of various fruit trees.
[Name] approaches Sunoo with a drink in each hand. He hands one to Sunoo who takes it with a soft "thank you."
"You know, I know who you are," [Name] says as he plops down beside Sunoo on the haybed. Sunoo chokes on the drink, entirely taken by surprise at [Name]'s sudden confession.
"You do?" Sunoo questions once he regains his breath. Why is he surprised? [Name] has been delivering to the castle since he and Sunoo were both very young.
"Yeah, I didn't say anything because there had to be a reason why you would come all the way to the market by yourself." [Name] explains, and Sunoo pouts, cursing himself for not coming up with a disguise.
"Are you going to tell the guards about this?" Sunoo asks, looking up at the taller male who sports a smirk, the left corner of his full lips twitching upward. Sunoo can't help but think that [Name] is more handsome than he remembers.
"No, why would I? Besides, if I did," [Name] pauses as he takes a sip of his drink, "I doubt they would believe a simple farmer boy such as myself."
Sunoo hums, taking in [Name]'s words. He realizes that [Name] does have a point. "Well, I appreciate you not snitching."
[Name] chuckles, turning his head to look at Sunoo under the early morning rays of the sun. "Well, it did give me a chance to hang out with the prettiest prince I ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on."
Sunoo's dark-colored eyes go wide, his neck and ears turning a light shade of reddish pink. Did [Name] really just say that so casually with the most confident smile on his handsome face?
"You think I'm pretty?" Sunoo questions, a shy smile creeping onto his face.
"'Course I do. I've always thought you were the prettiest." [Name] lightly nudges Sunoo with his muscular shoulder.
Sunoo's body and brain are buzzing, swirling with emotions he's not too familiar with. His heart beats heavily against his rib cage, and the pesky butterflies in his stomach refuse to calm.
"Look at you. You're all flustered and blushy." [Name] chuckles again as he wraps his arm around Sunoo's more petite frame.
"Stop teasing me! I can't help how I look when someone like you compliments me!" Sunoo protests, his elbow nudging [Name]'s side.
"Someone like me? What does that mean?" [Name] barks out another laugh as he falls back onto the hay bed.
Sunoo huffs and finds himself laying back as well. He turns his head, only to see a soft pair of [EC] staring at his face. He gives the male a puzzled look. "Do I have anything on my face?"
"Yeah, it's all over." [Name] brings his hand up, the knuckle of his index finger lightly grazing against Sunoo's soft cheek.
"Are you going to make a joke and say that I have beauty all over my face?" Sunoo asks, his eyebrow cocked up as he purses his lips a little.
[Name] snickers, knowing he's become too predictable. "No, what makes you think that?"
Sunoo rolls his eyes, allowing a smile to make its way onto his face. "Because it sounds like something you would do."
"You are right about that. And I will have you know that you were right. That was exactly what I was going to say."
"You're predictable and cheesy," Sunoo says, turning his body to lie on his side. His nose brushes against [Name]'s, causing the two of them to freeze for a second.
"Sunoo, can I do something bold while I still have the confidence?" [Name] asks, his eyes flickering back and forth from Sunoo's eyes to his lips.
Sunoo knows where this is going to go, and he doesn't plan on stopping it, so he just nods at [Name].
[Name] cups Sunoo's cheek, leaning in close to the male as his eyes close. Sunoo allows his eyes to close as he feels a pair of soft lips press against his own. It's feather-light and Sunoo barely feels it at first, but he leans his head forward to press into the kiss.
The two of them kiss for a bit as the sun rises in front of them. Sunoo's parents are not going to be happy about this, but like most things he does, Sunoo will keep [Name] as his little forbidden secret.
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Back to '83 AU
I've fixated on FNAF again so I'm going to be making a fic semi-inspired by @/pixlokita who made "Into the Ballpit" au but with my own spin and headcanons and such (check out their au it is so cute and honestly adorable, their Evan and Gregory are so small and adorable!!!) Like the Into the Ballpit we get some time traveling shenanigains involving the Afton sons and the SB crew Evan hides from his brother in the ballpit to escape his brother's teasing and bullying but was found. Michael chases Evan further into the ballpit and they both get transported to 2028, in the basement of the Mega PizzaPlex. They get found by Freddy and Gregory thankfully, but now they have to survive the night in an unknown location with hostile animatronics and try to get back to their own time!
Freddy (GlamMike) seems to have his own ulterior motives as stake this night as well it seems... Besides try to get them back home/out of the PizzaPlex, and of keeping certain "events" from being learned about.
Freddy seems very frigid and cold towards Michael but only Michael ever sees the signs of aggression.
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Freddy seems nervous and wary around Evan but is mostly flitting about like a nervous mother bird. He thinks he scares Evan, but Evan just sees him and thinks of a giant kicked puppy.
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He's still the lovable Freddy, little bit clueless to certain things and always trying to think of the positive's to Gregory. Gregory honestly thinks Michael is crazy for being scared of the snuggly bear. He's just so dad shaped! (Not that he would ever tell Freddy that, he hasn't gotten quite to that level of trust but he's at the tipping point) He's mostly just worried he'll mess up and get the bear hurt (not that Freddy minds, he doesn't care if he get damaged or decommission as long as the two little ones are safe).
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He is still a bear I was just really struggling to draw and I think this is a good representation of how Freddy/Mike sees himself in a way. Not fully animatronic but also not really human/zombie anymore. He is both Freddy and Michael, and there is no difference between them.
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gffa · 2 years
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Oh, friends, there is so much good Obikin fic about our two favorite idiots in the STAR WARS fandom out there and I have a huge back archive of recs to show for it, but sometimes it’s hard to know where to start when you’re new or haven’t read anything in awhile, so I wanted to put together a list of Starter Recs that I think are great places for a beginner who’s just dipping their toe into the waters! There are many, many fics that are often times some of my favorites that will not be on this list, because these are the ones that I think are specifically useful to those who are just kind of figuring out what they like or aren’t really sure they 100% ship it and just kind of want to test things out. And also because if you made me list my actual favorites, it’d be literally thirty times as long as this, and that might be just a bit overwhelming. So, here, have my suggestions for where to start! Joinnnnn usssssssss. OBIKIN RECS - CANON-COMPLIANT UP TO BEFORE EVERYTHING GOES TO SHIT: ✦ Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, sith!obi-wan (sort of), d/s, 95.9k    During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone. ✦ Upfall by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin & some obi-wan/satine & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, 166.8k    Anakin is doing just about everything he can to hold himself together; it won’t last. ✦ the sound of your voice (helps me find peace) by izazov, obi-wan/anakin, 34.7k    Five times Anakin had to ask for a story. And one time Obi-Wan offered it freely. ✦ Lex Talionis by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, sith!anakin, 187k    How Obi-Wan and Anakin fell to the dark side, obtained their revenge, and saved the galaxy in the process. ✦ starbird by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 8.8k    Anakin thinks he knows everything about Obi-Wan but doesn’t. Anakin thinks a lot of things, actually, and he’s wrong about most of them. Anakin’s whole world view is turned upside down. Obi-Wan is having the time of his life. ✦ small gestures and grand vows by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 6k    Five times Obi-Wan and Anakin show how devoted they are to each other, and one time somebody demands proof and they are insulted. ✦ Across the Stars by unfortunate17, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, time travel, 14k    A story of how Obi-Wan and Anakin have thousands of firsts between them, fates intertwined by the will of the force across space and time. Or, Obi-Wan is the Time Traveler’s Wife. ✦ love is a battlefield (not a one-night stand) by izazov, obi-wan/anakin, 15.5k    For all his skills as a negotiator, Obi-Wan does a poor job of handling the aftermath of spending the night with his former Padawan. (He gets better at it. Eventually.) ✦ what heaven did you leap from, dear love? by loosingletters, obikinn, obi-wan/anakin, 3.2k    Surely Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to call him that. It was just a slip of the tongue, he told himself. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing and his palms from getting sweaty. ✦ Abyssus Abyssum Invocat by Burning_Nightingale, obi-wan/anakin, 10.3k    While searching for Separatists on the very edge of the Unknown Regions, Obi-Wan and Anakin discover three things. A Chiss pilot in desperate need of their help; a Jedi Temple more ancient than the Republic itself; and a dire warning. ✦ Into the Archives by skygawker, obi-wan & anakin (& some anakin/padme) & palpatine & cast, 104.9k wip    After hearing the legend of Darth Plagueis the Wise from Palpatine, Anakin decides that his best chance to save Padme is to break into the restricted Holocron Vault of the Temple Archives to search for information about Plagueis. Predictably, all does not go according to plan. Revenge of the Sith AU. ✦ Satellite Mind by intermundia, septemberist, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 19.3k    Five times Obi-Wan heard Anakin’s thoughts, and one time Anakin heard Obi-Wan’s ✦ Aggressive Negotiations by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 15.7k    Five times Obi-Wan makes use of Anakin’s beauty in a negotiation, and one time someone turns the tables on him. ✦ It’s How You Learn by Is0lde, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 10.6k    Anakin and Obi-Wan spar in Jar'Kai and it ends up exactly how they both planned. ✦ Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue) by Gwendolyn (storiesofchaos), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 8.1k    Three occasions in which Anakin comes in his pants. ✦ Seed by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 44k    When Anakin falls prey to a lethal poison, Obi-Wan has no choice but use all his resources to heal him– no matter how reluctant he is in administering the antidote. ✦ Over and Over by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin, 1.4k    “I love you,” he blurts out, loud and impossible to miss. Obi-Wan blinks once, twice. And freezes. The first time Anakin tells him is a mortifying experience. ✦ hey there by retts, obi-wan/anakin, 4.6k    ‘Sick,’ says Anakin, stood in the doorway of Obi-Wan’s room aboard their ship. 'You’re sick.’ 'No need to sound so delighted over it,’ grouses Obi-Wan, bringing his fist up to his mouth to cough feebly into it. Damn. 'I’m not, Master.’ ✦ O Trespass Sweetly Urged by Artemis_Unbound, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 8.6k    Anakin and Obi-Wan witness a sex ritual while on a mission. Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why Anakin is so scandalized by this, until Anakin admits that he’s never had sex. Obi-Wan…might need a minute to process that. ✦ Too Hot by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k    Too Hot: A game where two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, that player loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser. OBIKIN RECS – THE DARTH ASSHOLE CAT DYNAMIC THAT’S CLOSER TO THE SHOW’S RELATIONSHIP POINT (SOMETIMES FIX-IT, SOMETIMES NOT): ✦ Sear me by thedunesea, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, suitless vader, 9.9k    “So here we are, a failed Jedi, a Sith, and our imminent deaths. I leave it to you to choose how we will meet our demise, whether fighting or doing something else entirely.” ✦ Make Your Siren’s Call by intermundia, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, 4.5k    After a visit to check on young Luke, Obi-Wan spends the night in a cave nearby. He struggles to fall asleep, his mind reaching out into the Force, and is surprised by a visit from his old apprentice in his dreams. ✦ to touch the light, darkest by treescape, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, 6.5k    Obi-Wan begins to fuck Vader back to the light. ✦ Mirage by intermundia, obi-wan/vader & obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, time travel, omegaverse, 17k    The Force switches AotC Anakin with Kenobi-series era Darth Vader. ✦ (Un)happy Reunions by izazov, obi-wan/vader, 4k    After defeating his former Padawan but sparing his life on Mustafar, Obi-Wan had hoped that their paths would never cross again. He should have known better. ✦ Homestead by JSwander, whohatessand, obi-wan/vaderkin & cast, NSFW, 46.2k    Obi-Wan deals with a troubled newly widowed Anakin, two twins, and desperately needs a hug. ✦ game plan by treescape, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, raised as a sith!anakin, 11.2k    Or, Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It’s kind of a thing. ✦ Neutron star collision by thedunesea, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 66.2k    In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker’s miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who had thought he had lost everything to darkness. ✦ love is not a victory but neither is it pain by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, 4.7k    Five years after Anakin Skywalker falls Obi-Wan Kenobi helps lead the Rebel Alliance against the Empire.But hope has reached its end,and General Kenobi confronts Vader in a desperate effort to save his men and the last threads of the rebellion. ✦ nothing compares to you by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin & cast, nsfw, time loop, 40.5k wip    Sometimes you only get one chance to make things right. But when you’re Anakin Skywalker, Chosen One, sometimes the Force intervenes to give you a second chance. Or a third. Or a fourth. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 5 by intermundia , obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, spanking, rough sex, 2.3k    5. suitless!Vader / resentful!Obi-Wan (Spank a Sith back to the Light AU) ✦ Don’t go blindly into the dark by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin, 3.5k    Anakin falls to the dark side earlier than expected, gets scared by his own impulses and decides to hide somewhere nobody will look for him. It doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from finding him. ✦ Replaceable by ibex_ascendant, obi-wan/vader, nsfw, ~1k    He buries hands of flesh in thick, auburn-colored hair. He knows this is a dream. ✦ Pivot by Phosphorescent, obi-wan & anakin, 1.3k    “What would you have me do, Anakin? Just… walk away?” “Or you could join me.” OBIKIN RECS - DO YOU WANT THEM TO KISS BUT DON’T WANT TO WADE THROUGH THAT GROSS PLOT WHILE STILL GETTING INSIGHTFUL CHARACTERIZATION? I GOT YOU: ✦ Collar by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, 9.4k    “You have to be sure, Anakin. Once we’re in, we’re in.” “I think I can handle being your sub, Obi-Wan.“ ✦ This Was Obi-Wan by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 5.3k    With how proper and refined his master is,Anakin just can’t figure why he sits like that, all spread-legged and obscene.But after a mission goes awry and he sees Obi-Wan naked for the first time,the question isn’t why,but more like how he’s possibly going to survive with the knowledge. ✦ Home Again by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, mild bondage, 1.7k    When Anakin’s emotions overwhelm him, Obi-Wan is always there with a firm hand and clear eye to help him find his way back from the dark. ✦ It’s How You Learn by Is0lde, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 10.6k    Anakin and Obi-Wan spar in Jar'Kai and it ends up exactly how they both planned ✦ Good Form by ranianke, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 15.1k    Obi-Wan needs help shooting a training video. What could go wrong? ✦ Lifeblood by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 8.3k    The ancient people of the Zeffo contact the Jedi in a cry for help,they need force users who can connect to the living force,who can save something dear to them. But the price of life is itself something dear,and one Obi-Wan is not sure they can pay. ✦ Persistence is Key by ToolMusicLover, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.2k    Anakin has been making suggestive remarks all day, when they’re finally alone together Obi-Wan finds himself succumbing to Anakin’s persistence. ✦ Bloom the want by ToolMusicLover, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 13.5k    Upon being reunited with Obi-Wan after a number of months apart, Anakin struggles with his Master’s continued distance, but perhaps there is something he can do to get his attention. ✦ Exile Vilify by nessa_j, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, 1.4k    Anakin struggles with the horrors of war, Obi-Wan tries to offer comfort. ✦ that which rages in the place of dearest love by shipwrecks, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.4k    He loves Obi-Wan but he’s not going to let him tell him to calm down like he’s still a padawan who doesn’t understand anything about the galaxy. He understands plenty—the galaxy is cold and unforgiving, dark and pain, he’s known this longer than anyone. OBIKIN RECS – IF YOU WANT TO GET YOUR FEET WET IN A WORLD WHERE THEY WEREN’T TEACHER AND STUDENT TO SEE IF IT’S FOR YOU: ✦ wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, nsfw, sith!obi-wan, 117.4k wip    There are rumours of yet another Sith Lord hiding among the Separatists. The Council sends Anakin to investigate. Anakin has a bad feeling about this. or, the story of how Anakin exists in a perpetual state of intense embarrassment, Obi-Wan is enjoying it a little too much, and everything is, generally speaking, a gigantic mess. ✦ Conceal Me What I Am by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, omegaverse, senator!obi-wan, 108.3k    Separatist Propaganda is turning the Republic against the Jedi Order and the Senate sees no choice but to join in a political alliance to fight dissent on a unified front.An alliance is proposed through an arranged marriage,between a Jedi Knight and Republic Senator. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are chosen as representatives of the political union by Darth Sidious, meant to bring ruin to the marriage and the public’s support of the Jedi,for Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the Beta he claims. But even Sidious does not know of the secret Anakin Skywalker keeps, that he is not the Alpha the galaxy believes him to be. ✦ Needing/Getting by chapstickaddict, obi-wan/anakin & luke & leia & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, alternate canon, 198k    Anakin is a paranoid, over-protective hot mess doing his best to raise his weird pack the way Padmé would have wanted. How the hell is he supposed to do that when his kids and not-apprentice make him haul a half-dead Jedi Master home like a lost pet? OBIKIN RECS – LOOK, JUST TRUST ME, IT’S GOOD: ✦ à la carte by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, modern au, 55.6k    Anakin Skywalker is a perfectly normal grad student. He spends his days at the robotics lab, his evenings working at an upscale restaurant and his weekends on inadvisable hookups. That is, until Obi-Wan Kenobi saunters into his workplace and sweeps him off his feet. ✦ The Snowball Effect by Ghost_Owl, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 11.3k    Anakin had not meant to nail the cute guy from his building in the face with a snowball. Obi Wan had absolutely meant to hit him back. ✦ when all we have are shadows by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, 8.3k    Anakin’s gone when Obi-Wan wakes up. He’s left a note, a little cutesy message with a smiley face and awful handwriting. He has a class he can’t miss, it says. Obi-Wan’s gone and fucked a college kid. ✦ Too Hot by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k    Too Hot: A game where two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, that player loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser. OBIANIDALA RECS – BECAUSE ANAKIN SKYWALKER HAS TWO HANDS AND REALLY, REALLY WANTS IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT SANDWHICH, AND WE HAVE FEELINGS AFTER ALL THOSE PADME MENTIONS: ✦ Only Ones Who Taste by maravilla, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 3.4k    "Have I ever noticed what?” she said, half smiling and fixing him with a stare. “That Anakin – he – I mean, we’re not here to talk about Anakin.” ✦ more than a candle by jenmishe, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 50.3k    How Anakin, Obi Wan, and Padmé realize many things, which include, most notably, how they feel about each other and how to handle said feelings. Oh, and in the meantime, they deal with a megalomaniac Sith Lord. ✦ Exposure Therapy by septemberist, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 10.1k    Anakin struggles to overcome jealousy in his relationship with Padmé and Obi-Wan. They decide to help him in an unconventional fashion. ✦ Only Ones Who Taste by maravilla, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 3.4k    “Have I ever noticed what?” she said, half smiling and fixing him with a stare. “That Anakin – he – I mean, we’re not here to talk about Anakin.” ✦ Diplomatic relations by Tenillypo, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 6.2k    It was late when Padmé Amidala got home, and there was a Jedi sitting in her living room.
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alienatedtsuki · 6 months
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Best of Time Travel AU
There are A LOT of time travel fix-it fics, but this isn't my favourite trope. That said, this post might be the only part of the recommendations for this section of Naruto fanfiction.
Uzumaki Revival by Lerya @lerya-fanfic They had been trapped in the ruins of Uzushio for who knows how long, the hastily erected barrier on the point of breaking, which would mean their deaths at the hand of Kaguya, when the Bijuu come with a solution. A solution that requires them to make the ultimate sacrifice, to give them a chance to change it all. - Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Kakashi and Obito were reborn as a part of the Uzumaki clan to fix past mistakes. This is my favourite fic, where Naruto is a functioning Kage. Everything is logical in this fanfic. Sakura is a strong and capable woman; everyone in our small group acknowledges how competent as a leader Naruto is. KakaObi and Sns are established relationships; interactions between Sasuke and Naruto are too precious. NaruSasu/SasuNaru | Time Travel AU | Fix it | KakaObi | Kage Naruto | Uzushiogakure (81,338)
French Kissing, the End of the World, and Other Impossible Ordeals by Tsume_Yuki This is it, centuries of excellent genetics, of carefully selected marriages to maximise the potential of future generations and it’s going to be Sasuke who introduces idiocy to the Uchiha bloodline. The ancestors must be rolling in their graves. In which Sasuke is smitten, Naruto is a badass, and timetravel happens. - This fic saved me from depression quite a few times. You could just read it purely for serotonin production. I just can't get over how smitten Sasuke is. They save the world together and live happily ever after. I believe this is the best-written fem Naruto I ever saw.  SasuNaru | Fem Naruto | Time Travel AU | Fix it | Smitten Sasuke | Smart Naruto | BAMF Naruto | Protective Sasuke (16,194)
Two Lifetimes by KinomiAkai @kinomiakai With every passing day, it's becoming clearer and clearer that Sasuke is dead. So what else would Naruto do, if he got the chance to try all over again? - They got another chance to fix everything. Sns is not established YET, but our boys have a happy ending. SasuNaru/NaruSasu | Time Travel AU | Fix it | Eventual romance | Happy ending (11,166)
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hannibal fic recs
its about damn time i did one of these so here we go
post-fall fics:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/34701295  Like a Lucid Dream- Hiding Now (Hiding Now) 75k: hannibal and will escape to wills cabin in the woods to recover…. where molly is also hiding with wills unsent letters to hannibal. lots of good tension between these three and this fic made me enjoy molly’s company more.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/9210245  we killed the dragon last night- inameitlater 88k: will and hannibal take their cliff dive, but will wakes up years in the past before ever meeting hannibal. really good accidental time travel fic with some of the best slow burn and exposition ive ever read. i genuinely cried at the end. ends with a cliff hanger and a link to the next stories (yes i said stories)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/31894417  through the aftermath- heartandthehead 69k: hannibal and will take refuge after the fall and will wants to explore his new capacity for violence while exploring a string of unrelated homicides. SLOW burn and amazing sexual tension. i will put the disclaimer that there is implied child abuse so if that isnt your cup of tea i wouldnt try this out. wonderful chiyoh content in this one too. ive come back to this fic so many times its not even funny.
canon divergence and aus:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39799425  dianthus barbatus- sainthannibal 84k: set ten years before canon, will and hannibal meet dumping bodies at the same place. i cant even tell you anymore because it would be spoilers, but if you told me this was a hannibal prequel, i would believe you. amazing slow burn (do you see a pattern with my taste) with tension and an ending that shocked me. i come back to this fic once a month and eat it up everytime. @saint-hannibal here on tumblr
https://archiveofourown.org/works/31970626  through the looking glass- shotgun_sinner 55k: ghost au where michas ghost has been following hannibal around for the past thirty years since her death. will is a medium that can see her. lots of chaos, fluff, and angst. a couple parts/dialogue scenes i wasnt a fan of but overall this fic did michas ghost well with an ending that wrecked me. seriously do NOT underestimate this fic as a silly ghost adventure. although it mostly is, you WILL cry.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39441234  pavlova- nbcravenstag 33k: stripper au. need i say more. will had a past job during college working as a stripper, so when the fbi investigates a string of killings involving strippers that look suspiciously like will,,,,, tension ensues. love me a damn good description of a strip tease on hannibal. nbcravenstag is honestly one of the best hannibal writers on ao3. good ass story
https://archiveofourown.org/works/33293602  the mongoose and the mouse- Hiding Now (Hiding Now) 109k: set in disney land as hannibal decides will needs to reconnect with his inner child at the happiest place on earth. also public sex. do i need to say anymore. amazingly written sexual tension and crack treated seriously perfectly balanced. first time i read it it actually got some laughs out of me, not many fics do that for me. give this one a shot if you want nasty smut and a good laugh.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/23917363  small repairs- Devereauxs_Disease 20k: during wills season two honeytrap plot, he becomes hannibals personal handyman. wonderfully written sexual tension and a resolution that leaves me wanting more. honestly Dev is an amazing writer for drabbles like this and i come back to this specific one almost every week.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/34998445  Crystalline Hiding Now (Hiding Now) 59k: another stripper au. can you tell i like those ones. hannibal is called to perform for will grahams bachelor party the night before wills wedding and hannibal is quickly infatuated. this leads them into bed,,,,, often. nasty NASTY smut and well written angst that deserves the E rating. i read this fic more often than i should. can you tell i like Hiding Now yet.
happy reading!!
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aquagirl1978 · 9 months
Note
a story in which mc goes to the past and meets the child chevalier and the boy ends up having his heart stolen by belle
Anon, this fic has lived rent-free in my head for entirely too long. I hope you're still around to see this finally posted 😊
It Was You - Chevalier Michel x Reader (Ikemen Prince)
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A/N: Part of the Different Universe, Same Love Content Creation Challenge hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady
Pairing: Chevalier Michel x Reader
Prompt: free day (i'm not exactly sure what kind of au this falls into - time traveling? soul mates? something?)
Tags: fluff
Word Count: 1674 (so long i included a word count)
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The skies were gray and the line was long as you stood and waited your turn, white rose in hand as  soft sobs and muffled whispers filled the air. Raindrops gently fell from the clouds, as if heaven, too, was mourning the loss of Rhodolite’s queen.
Two young boys stood in the distance, away from the crowds. And despite their distance, they somehow caught your eye. Your heart ached as you caught the sad expression on one of the boy’s faces; he must have been close to the queen and is grieving.
You tugged on the long sleeve of Mr. Akatsuki’s dark kimono, your wide eyes pleading. “Is it okay if I go see those boys over there? I’d like to offer my condolences.” Mr. Akatsuki turned and looked at the boys, noticing their elegant attire.
“Don’t stay long,” he replied.
“I won’t.” You turned to face the boys, the distance between you closer than you had initially thought.
As you approached the pair, their voices grew louder. 
“...from the books I’ve read. I thought I would feel something, even just a little bit, but –”
Your heart lurched; you were right, they were close with the queen.
The voices grew quieter and you couldn’t hear anything for a moment, but then you heard the same emotionless voice again.
“I realized this awhile ago, but somehow, I can only see things from a bird’s-eye point of view.”
Your heart ached hearing the young boy speak; he couldn’t be more than 10 years old. Such a young age to lose his mother. 
He must be hurting so much.
The boys, engrossed in their conversation, didn't even notice you approaching them.
“Hello?” you called out.
The two turned and looked at you. The boy with purple hair looked stunned, as if he had just heard a horrifying secret. 
The other boy, the one you had heard speaking earlier just stared at you silently, his ice blue eyes cold and emotionless.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, but I just wanted to offer my condolences…”
“It’s not necessary,” the boy with blonde hair replied, coldly dismissing you.
“Chev, please,” the other boy spoke up. “This young lady came all the way over here to offer you her sympathy. Don’t you think, as the queen’s son, you could just accept it and say thank you?”
Chev, as the boy with purple hair called him, narrowed his eyes, and looked as if he was refraining from scowling. 
“I have no need for her sympathy, Clavis. You should know that better than anyone.”
Clavis approached you, a smile plastered on his face, clearly covering his grief. “You’ll have to excuse Chev. He’s so overcome with sadness that he’s forgotten his manners.” He took your small hands in his. “Allow me to accept your sympathies, on behalf of the royal family. Thank you.”
Having done what you came for, there was no reason for you to stay and intrude on them no matter what your heart was telling you. Lifting your skirt, you curtseyed and said your goodbyes to the pair.
But as soon as you took one step away, you turned around and walked right up to Chev and wrapped your arms around him.
“What are you –?” he asked, his arms awkwardly pinned to his sides by your embrace. 
“You looked like you needed a hug. Everyone deserves to love and be loved. And you lost one who loved you.” Your eyes met his, his blue eyes wide and wild like those of a caged animal. “So I’m giving you a hug today.”
You remained in the embrace until he calmed down, his body relaxed somewhat and his blue eyes returned to their cold, emotionless state. After letting go, you took a step back, your gaze holding his.
“Prince Chev, I’m really sorry about your mother,” you whispered before turning around and walking away, not giving him the chance to dismiss you again.
Clavis stared at his brother, your figure growing smaller in the distance. He watched Chev watch you walk away, and thought he detected what could be considered a ghost of a smile gracing Chev’s lips.
*****
The bookstore had been empty all afternoon, to which you were grateful as it gave you the time to finish reading. When the bell chimed, announcing the arrival of a customer, you quickly put your book away, readying yourself to work.
The gentleman who entered was tall and lean, pale blonde hair framing a face carved from marble, bright blue eyes intense as he perused the books on the shelves. Dressed casually in a black turtleneck and trousers, you wondered to yourself if he worked at the university as a professor and that was what brought him to the bookstore today. 
As he walked around the store, you got this feeling that you knew this man from somewhere. Probably a past customer, you told yourself.
But you’d remember a man so handsome, wouldn’t you?
“Excuse me, is Mr. Akatsuki in?” he asked, his tone curt.
“No, he’s out this afternoon. Can I help you with something?” 
“Yes, perhaps you can, I had ordered a number of books from him and was told they should be here.” 
“What is your name so that I can look for your order?”
“Chevalier Michel…” His voice trailed off as he looked away, clearly not a fan of social interaction.
Definitely not a professor, you told yourself as you went into the back room where Mr. Akatsuki kept all the orders. It wasn’t hard to find the order – it was a large stack of romance novels. Only romance novels. In many different foreign languages. Impressed, you were stacking the books, double checking the list to make sure everything was there, when it hit you.
Chevalier Michel. The Second Prince of Rhodolite. The late queen’s only son.
Chev. The boy you hugged on that sad day so many years ago.
Despite all the years that had passed, for some reason, your heart remembered him when he walked through that door into the bookstore.
You put the books down, an attempt to catch your breath, somewhat relieved in knowing he would not remember you, so there would be no need for any awkward conversations about that day.
How you had wondered about that little boy you met that cold, gray day. You had heard the stories about Bloodstained Roses Day; you had heard of the prince they called the Brutal Beast. 
But for some reason, the man waiting in the other room did not seem brutal nor beast-like to you. To you, he was a boy who had just lost his mother. 
“Here you go,” you said as you returned with the books, placing the pile before him. “Feel free to check over them and make sure everything is in order.”
Your hands were still on the books when his hand darted out, his fingers encircling your wrist.
“Do you remember me?” he asked, his voice cold and emotionless, much like it was all those years ago.
Your eyes widened in shock. “You remember me? After all these years?” 
“I don’t forget a name or a face. Ever.”
“Oh,” you whispered, swearing you felt his thumb gently caress the inside of your wrist. You closed your eyes, wishing for a moment that he was a professor and not royalty.
“I don’t normally come in to pick the books up myself…”
A chill washed over you as he removed his hand from your wrist, knowing you’d likely never see him again.
“Thank you. For the books.” He gathered the books in his arms, and without as much as a smile, he turned and walked out of the store and your life.
“Royalty and commoners cannot mix,” he muttered to himself, more reminder than commentary, as he closed the door behind him, leaving you for good.
*****
“Do you have any questions?” 
You looked at Sariel, who was waiting for your answer. Your eyes flicked down to the voluminous contract placed before you; your eyes flicked up and found eight sets of eyes on you.
No, that would be incorrect. Seven sets of eyes stared at you, one set looked down at the table, his eyes not meeting yours the entire meeting.
Sariel sighed as he stood up. “If you have no more questions, you have a bit of reading to do now.”
“Belle,” he added, as if to remind you of the role you just accepted. 
You quietly waved goodbye to Sariel and the other princes as they all left the room.
All but one.
He made his way towards the door, as if he was leaving with the others. But he shut the door, his body pressed against it, blocking any entry as he glared at you.
“You.”
A chill ran down your spine as he spit the word out, his body seething with controlled anger.
“I didn’t ask for this task….” you tried to reason.
How were you going to spend 30 days in this castle – his home – with him this angry.
“Of all the people in all the towns of Rhodolite, they had to pick you.”
“You keep appearing in my life. Why?” When his eyes finally met yours, you felt sadness, not anger.
Your heart ached; pushing back your chair, you stood and walked over to Chevalier, placing your palm on his cheek. 
He bristled at your touch causing you to slowly withdraw your hand.
“Don’t,” he whispered. He let out a low sigh before continuing. “No one has ever touched me.”
“Except me…”
“Except you.” 
His hand found yours and he tugged you roughly, pulling you closer to him. You looked up at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, his pale blue eyes softening, shards of ice melting. 
“It was you, all these years it was you. It was always you.” His lips crashed against yours in a kiss you had both waited a lifetime for. Deepening the kiss, he wrapped his arms around you in an awkward embrace.
“It will always be you.”
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Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @violettduchess @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage
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shadowfear-art · 3 months
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I saw your one piece animated for terror au and it's amazingggg!
But could you maybe tell more about it? Is there gonna be a fic of it? (It there is it'll be awesome-)
Sadly no fic cause I can't write a full story to save my life... Anyway-
Ah ye! If you are new to the Au itself (because I've been using the concept for other fandoms so there are established rules and world building that carry over) I'll give a quickest general background summery then the story itself.
Future me note: This ended up being more than a summary.
There's a ancient eldritch pen that turns anything into a toon/living drawing, usually with the needed help of a human hand to wield it.
Basically pen finds a vulnerable human, tempts them to draw out their woes or wants (whether they want to or not), leaves them with the consequences and fate of creating a living cartoon character with all the chaos that happens in between. There's an abundance of good, bad, ugly, and bitter sweet endings to these "stories".
Toons tend to dissapear sometime after as they have a place to dwell.
Now for Luffy, age 5, modern universe setting, living on Windmill Island (but not for long). Tho this story deviates from the normal formula.
Luffy has always been surrounded by people and his two close 'brothers' for the short 5 years of his life it was perfect. Until it wasn't and does what it always does, life changes. The people around the boy had begun to move on as they were needed elsewhere.
Garp was called over seas, something military? Luffy didn't really pay attention.
Shanks travels the world as an occupation.
Funny enough both of his brothers were involved in a custody battle and were required off the island to attend.
And so on and so forth, all promising to return.
Leaving Luffy alone in the care of Makino, as time went on a large ache began growing in his tiny chest. Taking the notice of something sinister.
"...Follow me... follo... me..."
"... I have... Something to... show you..."
A dark pied piper began singing it's deceitful tune into the childs dreams and eventually lure him out at night.
---
On the other end of this trap is two murder toons Crocodile and Doflamingo, both sent from toon world to take care of a certain annoying goup of intrest.
Toons are chaotic creatures thats no secret but thier existence is due to how crafty and dangerous they can be as a whole (not that humans haven't tried to let the world know about them just always seemingly fail from coincidence) so obviously there's an agency out to take care of these creatures, N.E.T (Neutralization and Extraction of Toons) Is their codename.
The more violent toons are sent out remove the growing annoyance.
And this night was no different, NET agency was taking root on the island so the duo are there to be an effective deterant... And relive some violent needs. Win-win.
Then Luffy walked right in to the situation.
Crocodile knew a trap when he saw one, just was figuring out what type... Or the boy actually wandered into a massacre in the middle of the night, ALONE.
Right.
Needless to say he had the right approach, scare the child and inflict a small "scratch" to cement he's not supposed to be here, if everything goes right the boy will run away bawling his eyes out. A better option than what Doflamingo had in mind.
What he didn't account for was the half dead agent behind his distracted self shooting right through him unable to see the small human due to the toons large size and cloak. It didn't hit Luffy but splattered him with ink, which is essentially the toons blood, new problem for the child.
The black liquid is 99% lethal if it entered a living beings blood system and just having inflicted a wound across the boys cheek Crocodile can now count the minutes before the tiny human collapses.
Unfortunate but perhaps the boy may appreciate the large toon return the favor to another neglectful adult in his short life.
Quick work.
Doflamingo was the first to catch that the kid wasn't dead after.
For the first time in years Crocodile felt his ink run cold, it was a trap.
It was always a trap for him.
The 1%, only if the two are compatible, instead of dying forces beyond understanding would convert living creatures into what they are.
White and black splotches have already begun to appear across the boy's skin, hair, and clothes with increasing speed.
Unsurprisingly both boy and tthon start to show two types of panic, Luffy being the louder soon becoming disoriented with confusion and Crocodile's mind racing to find a option that didn't involve killing a kid... That being said It wasn't off the table.
Before he could come to a conclusion both large toons noticed that their time was up and had to leave immediately.
All three of them.
The last thing heard were echoing wails for those who promised to return to the child's side now gone to a place they could never reach.
End. And the Beginning.
(This au has a B plot)
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seafoamwaffle · 3 days
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Next Stop: Pelican Town // Stardew Valley AU
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Ever since @norinenglish posted about their stardew ranchers fic concept I haven't been able to get the idea out of my head, so I've decided to make it everybody's problem.
I'm not going to be following the farmer's story beat for beat, instead, I'm just taking it as a loose inspiration and seeing where it takes me. Is there going to be more? Who knows, certainly not me!
First draft of Jimmy coming to the valley can be found under the cut :D
The bus travelled down the lonely highway, the slight unevenness of the road sending Jimmy’s head bumping against the window. There were endless mountain ranges just on the other side of the glass and peaking between the small crevices he could even see the ocean. Verdant grass covered every inch of the place—such a far cry from the dull greys of Zuzu City. 
Which, he supposed was the point. Looking back at it, it was only a matter of time before the city chipped away at the last bits of himself until all that remained was just a shallow husk of a being. It was too loud, too full, too much. 
Though who was he kidding? He could blame all his recent troubles on the city all he wanted, it wouldn’t get him anywhere. There was no guarantee things would get better in Pelican Town either. 
Positive thoughts, Jimmy, warned Pearl’s voice somewhere in the back of his head. Positive thoughts. 
Right. Things at least—probably?—couldn’t get any worse than they had been. And now he at least wouldn’t have to burden his cousins with coming all the way out to Zuzu City to keep an eye on him. 
It had been their idea to have him move back to Stardew Valley in the first place. Grian had suggested he stay with him up in the spare bedroom of his cabin, though Jimmy had resisted the idea with all his might. He’d caused them enough trouble as it was. The last thing they needed was to have him leeching off their kindness at all hours of the day and invading their personal space. 
After that conversation though, the incessant need to move out of that city to get away increased tenfold, until his small apartment full of stuff that wasn’t even his own began closing in on him, until there was no longer enough space for him to even breathe. 
“What about Gramps’ old farm?” Grian had asked as they were lounging on the couch one evening. “You wouldn’t have us breathing down your neck all the time there and we’d be a few minutes walk out if you ever needed company.” 
“Have you been to that place at all in the past few years? It’s so overgrown you can barely get to the house!” Protested Pearl. Her legs were draped across the both of them while she nursed a bowl of popcorn in her arms. 
“Okay, so it needs a little bit of cleaning up—”
“Understatement of the year.” 
“—but it would solve our conundrum here, right Timmy?” 
Two sets of eyes turned to stare at him as Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pretended he’d still been paying attention to the long-forgotten movie playing in the background. 
“I… I think I’d need to sleep on it.” 
Up until that point he hadn’t thought about the old ranch much. Though he had spent most of his early childhood there, he and his mum moved to Zuzu City after Grandpa passed away. He can’t even remember if they ever came back to visit, although that’s not exactly something he could ever blame her for. What was there to return for besides memories now painted over by grief?
He had loved that place to bits as a kid. How could he not? It was a pocket of the world that always felt as if it had been carved out just for him, endless fields and meadows he could run around until he could no longer catch his breath, chasing around friends whose faces he could barely recall anymore. And the animals—the chickens, the cows, the goats, creatures that at times understood him better than any person could. He wanted to become a vet because of them, though that dream was now long forgotten, locked away with every other ambition. 
It had been the happiest he’d ever been. 
That realisation had hooked its claws underneath his ribs and refused to disappear, reminding him of its existence with each breath he took. 
He could have that again if he gave it a try. 
At first, he attempted to squash that idea down as best he could, to lock it away in a small box tucked at the very back of his mind. It tasted too much like the sickly sweetness of false hope and he wouldn’t—couldn’t let himself be overtaken by it again before he inevitably came crashing down into reality. 
But it was too persistent, growing louder and louder the further down he attempted to push it. So, when he had gone through the few things he still owned from back then and found the deed to the old ranch tucked between photo albums and Grandpa’s old books, it felt as though fate had made the decision for him. 
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
It was all too soon that the bus hissed to a halt at a small clearing with barely any indication that there was a bus stop to begin with, besides a ticket machine tucked to the side that anyone could miss easily if they didn’t know it was there. With dread and anticipation both mixing in the pit of his stomach, he stepped out into the open. 
“Timmy!” 
Before he processed what was going on, there was an arm that hooked around his neck, pulling him down enough for Grian to reach and ruffle his blond hair. It took him a moment to pull out of the grasp. 
“What happened to a good old-fashioned hello?” 
“Welcome to Stardew Valley!” A theatrical voice boomed from the side, immediately catching Jimmy’s attention. 
On the dirt path leading to the bus stop stood a man dressed in elegant reddish clothing. He leaned heavily on an ornate cane while his other hand held a matching tophat. A wide smile overtook his features. Behind him he caught a glimpse of Pearl, sitting on a wooden fence.
The stranger made his way over to them. “I’m Scar, mayor of Pelican Town.” He offered a small bow, before placing the tophat back on his head and offering Jimmy the now free hand. 
“I’m—I’m Jimmy Solidarity.” He stumbled over his words as he shook the hand of this clearly important man. His brain wasn’t going to let him forget that for weeks to come. 
If he noticed anything amiss, Scar didn’t comment on it. “I’ve heard a lot about you! It’s not every day someone new moves it. It’s quite a big deal! The entirety of Pelican Town is anxious to meet you.” 
The words sent Jimmy’s stomach tying up in knots and though he attempted to cover that up as best he could, the pitying look Pearl sent his way told him he hadn’t done a good job at it. 
“How ‘bout we take him to the cabin first, yeah? I’m sure others are gonna be able to wait until he gets settled in.” 
Scar’s smile never wavered. “Why of course, of course. Just follow me!” 
An uncanny feeling crept up his spine as they walked down the dirt path he must’ve walked through thousands of times as a child. It seemed much smaller now, the wooden fences surrounding it were much worse for wear. Something so familiar growing into something foreign. 
They stopped once they reached another big clearing and oh—he’d thought Pearl had been exaggerating about how overgrown the property had become. But weeds and debris stretched as far as he could see and where there used to be fields full of crops now grew sturdy trees. 
And the house… Well, it looked as though no one had set foot in or around it in more than a decade, which he supposed must have been the case. 
“Told you it was bad,” Pearl half-snickered, though there was no real malice in her tone. 
“You’re exaggerating! With enough time this can all be fixed up easily.” 
“Says the carpenter. The house looks like it’s being held together with duct tape and Gramps’ old stubbornness! Are you sure this is even safe to stay in?” 
Grian waved a hand in dismissal. “I went to check it over a few days back. It’s not a luxury hotel or anything, it’s covered in about an inch layer of dust and I’m pretty sure most of the wiring and plumbing needs to be redone, but it’s not going to collapse at a moment's notice.”
“Reassuring,” Jimmy chimed in, though his gaze wouldn’t leave the old house. It stood tall, with warm-toned wooden walls and a big front porch leading to the reddish front door. The attic window had been broken, with plastic stapled on from the inside to prevent rain from soaking the inside. 
This was what had become of his childhood home. A broken, empty mess. 
“I mean, it’s got character, it’s rustic!” Scar jumped in.
“Crusty’s a better way to put it—” 
“Listen,” Grian jumped in, cutting off whatever Pearl was about to say. “I’ll help you get it back into proper shape as long as you’ll get all the materials, deal?” 
Jimmy mumbled something vaguely affirmative as he continued staring at the overgrown ranch in front of him. 
It was going to be one hell of a fresh start
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cherubispunk · 6 months
Text
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ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (part i // ichor.) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader
summary: stranded. alone. a traitor to your people, your family. aeaea is the prison of paradise you call home, and he is the prophecy you like to call an enigma. the 'man made from metal', forged in fire, melted by your spell that is no witchcraft on your part. he is the hunter, you will always be the prey. it is the way as the fates designed it.
a note from lucy: so, its back. i'm officially back! basically, I went through it. accidentally deleted my blog. had to start from scratch. repost it all. but! I'm here. you're here. we're all here! Greek mythology is a huge love of mine. I always like to add a small sprinkling into my fics where possible. and now im writing one based wholly of two greek myths: eros and phsyche, and circe. I've read Madeleine Miller's 'Circe'. I fell in love with it, it's genuinely one of the best books ive had the pleasure of reading --hence the fact that this is heavily based off it in terms of 'lore'. Din is the perfect character for these myths to be translated into fic. So, without further ado, I present to all you lovely people (again lol), my mythology!au; ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. for @inklore and @psychedelic-ink's haunted hoedown. A three part fic with our beloved space cowboy. I really hope you enjoy it as I put a lot of time and thought into this. I love you all, you wonderful Pedro fanatics.
playlist
wc: 2255 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to past sexual assault (very mild), cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eating, choking, breath play, oral sex - f receiving, edging, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?
series m.list | other fics
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You had done many things under the pseudonym of Circe. Bird. Crow. What your mother and siblings used as a knife to your throat. An insult in the form of a name. One that man whispered in myth around fires. One a sailor would call out in fear upon reaching the shore of any island in the vicinity of Aeaea. It clung to the disgusted curl of their tongue like the tang of sour fruits. Lemons of Sicily. Limes from crete. Wrapped in letter parchment, sweetened with ink. 
Across from you is the god responsible for many of those tall tales. In his gold sheathed glory, olive skin gleaming with a ripple of muscle against the warmth of your hearth. Under it flows ichor, steadily. His winged sandals flutter in a twitch every few minutes. A subtle sound that is heard little too often over the lilt of his voice. Hermes. A deity you invited to your bed when he would visit, indulge in the stories of how he stole cattle as mere youngling, delivered messages of ruin to mortals. Travelled the planes of the underworld from the Styx to Elysium Plains. Hades and his sunken eyes on his throne. Where winged sandals would carry him overseas with his travellers cap and staff of entwined twin snakes. 
He would sit upon your chair, open his loose lips and a drone would pour out, Maybe to a mortal he would seem all so interesting. One to dote hours of your day to the thick honey like pouring of his voice in your ear. But to you – the witch – a goddess in your own right, he was a mere drag. A rake. A god worthy of being turned to swine at the unjust sight of his curling smirk. 
You would have drifted off it weren't for his voice picking up in interest, your ears perking up with it. The high buzz from his drone of white noise faded, ebbing into coherence while his lips drifted in voice. Practised and perfected movement the way any divine being did. 
“The fates speak of a man. Made of metal.” He mused, studying his thumb and forefinger as a stand of your lionesses hair was snagged between it. You wished to singe it from his fingertips. “A warrior.” “From overseas of Greece?” Now, and only now,  he had your attention. 
“Further.” 
You muttered a curse under your breath. Where would be further. “He will sail on a ship, strand himself on your shores engulfed with fire. And you shall do as you have before.”
“Take it?” You sneered, sitting forward in your seat, teeth bared at him. “I suppose I shall feed him before he sets his disgusting hands upon me.” 
“Oh come now,” He smirked, “Were you not to take him to your bed regardless?” 
“I shall sew your mouth shut for such accusations.” 
Hermes sighed, rolling his eyes in all his dramatics. Lounging in his seat. 
“Circe, you humour me with your feral tongue.” 
“And you disgust me with your plight.” “Ah,” he held up a single finger, humour on his face at the top of his curled lip, “I may be bored. But at least I have the world. You, Circe,” he spat, raising a brow in sickening amusement, “have nothing.” 
Your face drained of colour. Your heart aching in its chasm of a chest, ribs pinching. He was right. Your oasis was still a prison. Despite its bars of gold, it still held you. Contained you. 
He stood in his victory over you, taking one last look around. “One last thing–”
“Oh, there’s more, is there?” You sighed, staying seated. For all his heirs and graces, he was no more worthy of your respect than the dirt caked to your bare feet in winter's first bite. The god merely crossed his arms, a diving wind rustling the blonde curls upon his head, wrapped in laurels, 
“You must never look upon his face.” 
You sat in a furrowed brow muddle. He had drifted to the wind, turned to a shimmering spectacle of dust, in nothing more than a blink. 
He came with a blundering sputter. In a ship that was no ship of wood that sailed on tides. A hunk of chrome with spitting fans of fiery heat. A thwip through your cloudless skies to crash upon sandy shores. 
He came…with a child. A green creature with pointed ears similar to satyrs, no taller than your mid calf, alien to you. Wide hickory eyes that masked his face with innocence, having seen things unspeakable to even brave sailors. And when they sat at your table, piled plentifully with sweet figs, legs of mutton infused with rosemary, steamed and seasoned greens, and honey in its jar, the man of metal left all deserted by his lips. His plate was clean, wine untouched in his cup. Never once needing an added refill. Nor did he speak kindly. Rather, reserved. Gruff, distorted by something in his helmet seemingly fused to his head. While the child chewed on the fleshy roasted bone of lamb. 
Rhythms of autumn, songs of summer, ballads of winter watched over you and the meadows you walked. Gardens you tended to. Woods you roamed. And he did too. There was something within him. Under that beskar. It called, howled, growled in insubordination. A vulgar hatred of being vulnerable out in this position. Where you held an advantage of both terrain and power. 
So he took in a way he knew. In carnal, biting desire paced by him. Phallically. Reversed the role of who won who, made you beg in your own bed, in the drowning pools of darkness. Never to see his face. 
But oh so familiar. 
The first time he took you was akin to a memory in the very moment it happened. A haze of something so absurd it couldn't possibly have been true. Played out the way it did. The Mandalorian watched while you bathed. In a creek not too far from the path. A rock for your lioness to splay out over, sunbathe and make her coat gleam gold like the ichor in your veins. Her ears pricked at a sound he made. One you did not hear with your head submerged under the clear pool. 
She looked up, lifting her whiskered chin from her large paws, and her eyes met his. He did not fret. Nor did he stop and turn away from the great willow he stood below. Only glanced from her to the curve of your bare chest rippling above the crystal waters rippling surface. 
From there, he had stalked you to the deeper parts of the forest where even your familiar did not follow. Watched as a wicker basket was tucked under your arm, flowers and mosses being picked from the ground as you went about gathering pharmakeia for your draughts. 
He appeared, bringing his musk while his hand clamped down over your parted lips. Pressed your front firmly into the tree, hands scraped gold raw by the silver birch’s peeling bark.  
“Don’t.” He growled upon your demand to turn around. “Face the tree.” 
And you obeyed in tandem with the hiss of something– his helmet– as it dropped to the dewy floor by your bare feet. A single kiss, seasoned with sparse prickled hairs was laid to the nape of your neck, a wondrous dichotomy to the events yet to unfold, noises of restraint on the tip of his tongue, the back of his throat. The skirts of your dress were gathered in messy haste, undergarments pulled to the side, revealing the shine of your own slick. How you dreamed in secret nights of this very moment. His taking of you, his claiming of your cunt— grunting while he invaded the tightness of your walls, flayed you open forever like a sacred text, ready for him to read once again. 
A large palm of his, gloved in leather, pressed to the nape of your neck where the notch of your spine ended and your skull began to curve, thumb pressed to flesh, fingers curled into gnarled hair. You gasped, cold air nipping the back of your exposed thighs, fully clothed still, yet bent to submission by the masculine will of him. Naked. 
The orgasm was The Mandalorians. And the Mandalorians alone. You never questioned the burning ache of pending release. Merely let it simmer in the tight heat of your walls at the mouth of your cervix. His noise still stinging in your ears, shocking the breath from your lungs. He took no time. It was a rush for his release. His domination of the witch of Aeaea. 
From that moment onwards, you imagined his lips, recited in drugged sleep to the egyptian cotton and goose down of your pillow. His irises. To write a poem on parchment about something you could not see, nor ever would per his and Herme’s telling. Fingertips itching to feel warmth of skin, not beskar. While his armour was smooth, buffed, polished to shine in rays of Helios's chariot, it was cold to the touch. You had his visage mapped in your mind. Well trodden by fingertips such as the paths by the tall cliffs. The Mandalorian. Nameless. Faceless. 
He spent each night for a fortnight in your bed. The first, he parted your legs himself, and the rest they were already spayed open for his wanting. He snuffed the candles with his thumb and forefinger, unsheathing them from his gloves before doing so. You watched with intent from the sheets as his visage dominated the tall door frame. Shoulders broad and intimidating the negative space he occupied. Only when he was shrouded in utter darkness did he remove his helmet, climb his way up to your parted lips. Curating a careful path from them, over the column of your throat, descending your navel to the forbidden fruit gleaming, ripe and juicy for his lips. Ready for his first damning lick of your sex. 
Like the apple in the garden of Eden, temptation on Lucifer's forked tongue, he delved deeper, rested his naked face between your tensing thighs. Broad arms, still sheathed in beskar curled under them, dragging you closer to his open mouth while your arousal, slick and thick as honey, drizzled out your weeping hole to his open, wanting mout. 
His tongue drew ellipsis over the twitching bud of your clit. Thick and firm, the tip pressing into your cunt, following your hot seam down to your quivering hole. He dipped inside, curling it to draw the taste out. You couldn't see his eyes. But you liked to imagine they were open to feast on the sight of your quivering and naked chest the best he could without the guide of the candlelight. Now snuffed into curling stings of smoke. Staring while you were shaking under the pleasure rolling up from your centre and cascading like a landslide down your spine. It made you shiver. The soft plush of your legs swallowing his exposed ears, the small, neatly trimmed curls tickling the sensitive flesh. His coarse beard, scruff scattered in a smattering over his sharp chin scratching your skin. 
A low groan rumbled from the back of his throat, your tang dancing with light feet over his taste buds And his nose bumped into your clit as he tasted more. Devoured your cunt like his last meal. 
It wasn't long before you felt the burn behind your eyes replicate in knots in your belly. Tightening at the mouth of your cervix while he ate at you. A cry of his name bursting from your chest as he flicked his tongue with vigour. He had one aim in mind. To taste your release. The sticky mess that would coat his lower face. 
“Give it to me.” He commanded. And oh, how you tried. You willingly left this realm while he licked at your pussy, his tongue languidly rolling up one side of your labia, up to your clit and circling it, then down the other side to plunge into your tight, clenching hole once more. 
You nimble fingers curled into his hair. It was coarse, wispy at its ends where it started to coil loosely. And you gripped it as you ground your core into his face. RIding and grinding into his face that was exposed to your quivering cunt. Not ready to part with the way his ips enclosed around your clit and added enough suction for you to see Ouranos and all the stars that tattooed his blue skin. 
You panted a chorus of heavenly oh’s. Breath came in heavy as he pulled back to spit. You felt it, cold in contrast to your own heat, drooling down to your slick entrance. It quivered when he added a finger, curling up from the second knuckle. It was merely one digit. But it stretched you out, had you reeling while he beckoned your orgasm closer to materialising in your belly. 
He could smell the musk of you and it was divine. 
He had your orgasm building and building into a near state of harrowing oblivion before he let it rip through you. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And then it broke, like some great epiphany from him as an enigma. 
He stood, replaced his helmet, leaving you boneless. A quivering, babbling mess of sweat and slick in your own sheets.
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lavena · 7 months
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Since I am so incredibly desperate for tmnt fic recs, here I am supplying mine. All of these i HAVE READ AT LEAST 3 TIMES
pretty much all Mikey centric and jsyk every one I recommended I reread b4 posting this. Sorry If I repeat any, this took me over a week, college is kicking my butt and midterms are next week, kill me. If you have any you red please lmk either in comments or with rb I need the ficss guys please I am desperate.
On AO3
Train-wreck of thought by halogalopagost
A beautiful 2003 tmnt where Mikey is having trouble meditating and gets some tips from his dad and brothers, he struggles with his ADHD, he over comes it and turns out there is a lot more to this meditating than he thought. he intends to use it to his advantage.
The Legend of the Heiwa no Buki by abz_the_turtle
2012 Mikey is pure of heart and turns out that causes some problems for him, his brothers and a certain bother in blue from the future
exhaust trails through space by SpectrumWriting
2012 B team realizes they really need a break, after a fight between Leo and Donnie, B team pull a few favors and go to visit a few planets, look at some extraterrestrial inventions and get to see a festival of food. Each brother learns new things about each other and finally get to take a few deep breaths.
Surface Pressure by TheKeyBladeMaster1994
Mikey watched Encanto and something abut their family feels familiar. Honest to go so good, it is unfinished and only at 3 chapters but it is 32k words and by god if it isnt one of the best books I have read over 5 times already, featuring mikey being a helpful little brother and managing to stress his big brothers out in the proccess.
Pretend That I Never Left by redstingraven (sirimiri)
2003 Mikey gets taken into the Horizon Zero Dawn universe rather than the superpowered turtle universe in the SAINW episode. Positively glorious, he gets bashed and bruised and comes out the other end with an arrow sticking out of him.
All The Small Things by taizi @taizi
2012 Donnie gets deaged and Mikey gets to be a big brother. Positively adorable, Mikey is an enabler and the poor toaster will never be the same, plus just the right amount of angst to make me squeal.
Underdark by Nekotsuki
2003 Mikey and Leo and stuck in the sewers after a collapse, both are hurt and oh looky here it seems Leo has fainted and Mikey is panicking, it would be great if he could take a full breath to hyperventilate with.
We've been here all along by Taizi
Beautiful 2007 tmnt, Mike gets shot, worries about making Donnie abandon him, Casey says fuck that.
walk with open hands by taizi
Mikey can't get over his fathers death and knows his brothers cant get over it either, and he is going to do something about it, been if it almost costs him everything. Was originally 1 chapter, but a second chapter from Splinters POV makes everything gorgeous.
traveling so far to get there by taizi
different age turtles, 2012 universe, Mikey and Raph gets transported to a post-apocalypses time-line aptly called the after party, no one lives, but Mikey does manage to find himself a monkey companion and Raph really wishes his little brother and him would be back home. Little moment of Mikey and Donnie being twins that is positively adorable and I need more of it ASAP. Its 10k words but reads like 30 in the best way possible, like literally a must read!
Closer by Taizi
adorable human woodyangelo
Problem child by taizi
human AU, Mikey is going to give his big brothers a heart attack, he makes questionable friends, and it seems he has a lot of growing up to be doing
Things You Never Outgrow by taizi
Mikey might just have picked up some less than stellar habits from his family as a baby, and now its coming out to bite him in the butt as his brothers notice.
Know the world in yourself by taizi
Donatello is an aspiring Egyptologist, and close friends with part-time thief and sometimes-scoundrel Casey Jones, who pickpockets an ancient map of the fabled City of the Dead off a young man he stumbles across in the Casbah—a young adventurer, it turns out, and none other than the little brother Donatello hasn't seen in almost eight years
Small spaces by Taizi
After 2012 Mikey gets captured and held by the Kraang, it seems he might just have a new fear, his brothers are not happy about it.
While you're here enjoy the view by taizi
Cute little woodyangelo 2012. They have my heart
Sleepwalking by TheKeybladeMaster1994
Splinter wakes up in a cold sweat and notices that Mikey is missing, and it seems like a dark entity is after his littlest sons light, good thing its just a nightmare, right? A few nights later it seems that is not so. Only 4 chapters but has 30k words and is a positive joy to read, I hope it continues to update.
The Ultimate Weapon by TheKeybladeMaster1994
Mikey is pure of heart and just about everything knows it, including but not limited to an eldritch entity that he swears is just try to make his life hard no matter what it tells you.
Interrogation or Malpractice by Professor_Anxietree
2012 Mikey when he got captured by the triceritons, their mind reading machine doesn't do quite what was intended and it spells out pain and sufferings for the smallest of the Hamato clan. Its pretty much being over stimulated to the max, like your skin feels too tight and you can hear your nerons firing in your brain type stuff, beware if you have overstimulation.
Someone to Protect by Koalagriton
2012. Mikey's big bothers get captured by Hun and Mikey doesn't take it well, that's going to become Huns problem.
Flowers by intomyfireyoushallfall
Mikey meets Tang Shen
The shinobi's garden by taizi
buncha one shots that you have to read, you have to istg 66k words of nothing but amazing.
family sticks together, bruh by hellomyoldheart
Mikey (Bayverse) discovers online shopping and sends it to Aprils place, April gets a package addressed for Mikey O'neil
too bad, but its the life you lead by angelmichelangelo @angelmichelangelo
2k7my beloved. Mikey is having trouble at home, good thing this new cat he found, affectionately named Klunk, can help a little. You will cry, I cried, still have read it four times, but crying non the less, read the tags or it will hit you like a freight train
the dad diaries by angelmichelangelo
pepaw Ronin and the new babies, adorable and angst ( in the form of flashbacks) nuff said
a minute from home by taizi
bteam for the win, I cant get enough, baby don and mikey wonder off and survive 3 months, it changes them
I've been afraid of changing by taizi
2007 Mikey really hates his job, Donnie didn't get that, but now he does
Give up the ghost series by taizi
Mikey can see ghosts, and that means he can see his one and only dead brother too, donnie, it causes problems for eveyone around him. human AU
The Gauntlet by T33la
Mikey and Don have to take a leap of faith, good thing Mikey has complete trust in his big bros tech
Flipbook by T33la
the 2003 SAINW donnie boy planned just in case and mikey finds the first bit of the plan, talks happen
Chronicles of the Cretaceous by T33la
Mikey boy manages to befriend a T-rex because of course he does
Words to be Spoken by Mona_E_Lisa @mona-e-lisa
Soulmate Au with woodyangelo, its got angst, just not for the boys, nd holy shyt I need more
The Silver Sentry by Mona_E_Lisa
2003 Mikey gets a son, and he deffo has some problems with Splinter, and I love him more than words
2088 by Mona_E_Lisa
If you haven't read this you haven't lived and that's all I can say. What are you doing? go read it??? like asap, will change you. Its 6k and this post will still be here when you get back, get going now sho sho
A Tale of Spirits by unorthodoxx @unorthodoxx-page
ATLA x tmnt 2018, everyone thinks they are spirits, donnie boy isn't going to correct them, and mikey ends up malnourished, but it updates this sunday so GO Go Go asap, it great
turning over stone by angelmichelangelo
2012 mikey gets angry, and kami does it suck, but good thing his big brother has experience in dealing with it.
caught in the rip tide by angelmichelangelo
Mikey gets hurt, and it might just be leos fault. 2012 based on the season 4 episode broken food.
yolk by angelmichelangelo
Mikey can't take the fighting anymore, too bad it took wrecking a midnight breakfast for his brothers to notice.
december 18th: raise a glass by angelmichelangelo
Mikey turns 21, and they really should be winding down by now, but Donnie doesn't have the heart. technically tagged with 2012 and IDW, but could totally see it with 2007 if u ignore that raph is in japan
december 15th: a size too big by angelmichelangelo
2007 Mikey was supposed to be bac an hour ago, he is gonna be the death of Donnie I swear.
the Kappas constellation by angelmichaelangelo
bunch a one shots
Honestly just anything by angelmichelangelo or taizi, but you can see that with how often they show up in this list
FF.net
Its a cycle by GhostiesandGhoulies
Adorable 2007 Mikey being hurt while doing cowabunga car and his brothers looking after him
Clogged drain by Goblin cat KC
Horror, the poor boys were not ready for this one but I adore it. Nothing more I can say than they will have nightmares and all of them will have night lights.
Hero among them by oliviasbizzaremind
2007 gang gets a call after a rough night, its for cowabunga carl, so how exactly does this lady know Mikey's name? Mikey always was a bleeding heart.
If Wishes were Fishes by Taisi (this is also on A03 I believe I just found it on ff.net fist so i figured id share that here too)
Human AU, adorable must read, like I cant stress this enough, you haven't lived without this. And as a former foster kid, damn.
Mikey's truly awful, incredibly sucky, super hella bummer of a day by Orange4Days
Exactly what the title says and you will enjoy this boys suffering and eventual comfort.
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