jealous.noctis ;; possessive behaviour ;; marking ;; overstimulation ;; dirty talk ;; manhandling ;; semi public ;; sex without a condom ;; creampie mention ;; a little rough, degradation & praise ;; 18+ only.
the bar is loud, but it feels easy when it’s just you and prompto, drinks in hand, trading dumb jokes until your belly aches with laughter. he’s leaning close, animated, spilling some wild story about a hunt, and you’re grinning so wide you barely notice noctis at first.
he’s standing a few feet back, beer in hand, but his eyes are sharp, fixed on you. the longer you laugh, the tighter his jaw gets.
you only realise how bad it is when he stalks up, doesn’t even say hi, just curls his fingers around your wrist. his grip is firm, possessive and his expression brooks no argument.
“we’re leaving.”
you blink, startled. “noctis, what?”
“now.” his voice is clipped, a dangerous edge undercutting the usual lazy drawl.
prompto raises a brow but shrugs, backing off with a little wave. “uh…have fun, you two?”
you don’t get to reply before noctis is pulling you out, through the hall, and into your shared hotel room. the door slams shut, lock clicking.
you open your mouth to question him, but he’s already on you — kissing you hard, tongue sliding past your lips like he’s trying to erase any taste of laughter that wasn’t for him. his hand fists in your hair, tugging just enough to make your knees buckle.
“you think i didn’t see you?” he mutters, words rough against your mouth. “sitting there smiling like that, letting him lean close? you think that’s funny?”
you smirk, a little breathless. “what, jealous?”
his eyes narrow. the next second you’re spun, shoved chest first onto the bed. he’s behind you, pressing down between your shoulder blades so you can’t get up, his breath hot on your neck.
“jealous?” he growls. “you’re mine. you don’t get to look at anyone like that. you don’t get to laugh for anyone else like that.”
your shorts are yanked down before you can answer, his hand coming down sharp across your ass, leaving the sting blooming. you gasp, but it only makes him groan, grinding against you with his clothed cock already painfully hard.
“fuck, you don’t even know what you do to me,” he hisses, unzipping, shoving his pants down just enough. he drags his cock through your folds, smearing your slick. “already wet? you like this? you like when i get rough with you?”
“noct— ” you gasp, but he doesn’t wait, pushing inside in one long, forceful thrust that makes your eyes roll back.
“say my name,” he demands, hips snapping forward, pace immediately brutal. “say who’s fucking you like this.”
the sound of skin slapping fills the room, obscene, mixed with your cries. every thrust hits deep, and he’s gripping your hips so tight you know he’ll leave bruises.
“louder,” he snarls, pulling you up by your hair so your back arches against his chest. “let him hear through the wall if he’s listening.”
your moans spill out uncontrolled, his name broken and desperate on your lips. he groans at the sound, rutting harder, his hand sliding down to rub your clit in rough, fast circles.
“fuck! noct, too much too much,”
“shut up,” he growls, thrusts unrelenting. “take it. take all of me like the good girl you are.”
he bends you back over, presses your face into the mattress, fucking you so hard your vision blurs. tears streak down your cheeks, but you’re gasping his name, babbling how good he feels, how much you need it.
“look at you,” he grunts, hips stuttering. “so cockdrunk you can’t even think. you’re mine, say it.”
“i’m yours, fuck, i’m yours noctis!”
he groans deep, biting down on your shoulder, marking you as he pushes you over the edge again. you convulse around him, screaming his name, and he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it until he’s spilling hot and deep inside, grinding to make sure it stays.
but even when he’s done, he doesn’t pull out. he drapes over you, heavy, his lips brushing the mark he left.
“…mine,” he whispers, voice low, possessive even softened by release. “always mine. don’t forget it.”
he pulls out slow, watching the mess drip down your thighs before shoving two fingers in to push it back inside. you whimper, overstimulated, but he only smirks darkly.
“we’re not done,” he promises. “not until you can’t walk tomorrow.”
