summary: to your chagrin, you get partnered with an irritating DSO agent who happens to take an interest in the case you're working on.
cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, re9!leon, fbi!reader, age gap, kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blow job, p in v, spanking, choking, finger sucking, brat taming, praise kink
wc: 10k
a/n: obsession's gotten so bad i started having dreams about him <3
also on ao3!
There’s a man sitting at your desk.
You’d arrived at work a little before 9, steaming cup of coffee in hand and a stack of case files tucked under your arm haphazardly. It was only until you’d heard the curious, hushed whispers that you’d realized your desk was currently taken, occupied by an unfamiliar man clad in a leather jacket.
Were you being relocated? Promoted? Demoted?
A barrage of thoughts flits through your mind as you approach your desk slowly, mentally preparing yourself to give the man a piece of your mind. The man doesn’t even flinch when the case files drop onto your desk loudly, your coffee cup following soon after as you set it down roughly before crossing your arms over your chest.
“Can I help you?”
His head tilts towards you, shaggy hair shifting as his gaze travels over you with interest. You stare back at him blankly, brows furrowing when you take in the scruffy stubble covering his jaw and the weathered look to his skin. He had to be at least twice your age, but even you could admit the man was stupidly handsome. You’re only left with more questions than you started with as you continue to stare at him, feeling bewildered. The flex of his gloved fingers catch in your periphery, distracting you as you glance down to find him piecing together a disassembled gun with practiced ease, the parts set out neatly on your desk.
His voice is gruff when he speaks. “You’re younger than I expected.”
“You… were expecting me?” you ask, irritation seeping into your voice, patience growing thin. “Who the fuck are you?”
The man’s brows raise at your blunt question, fingers still moving deftly, his eyes flickering with mirth.
“You know, the FBI promised me a warm welcome,” he says, the chair swiveling as he turns to face you fully. “Can’t exactly say you’re delivering on that promise.”
“Yeah well, I didn’t make any promises,” you retort, giving him a tight smile, watching as he leans forward, sliding his newly assembled gun back into its holster. “Besides, you still haven’t answered my question.”
He sighs, leaning forward, his arm outstretched as he offers you his hand. “Leon–”
He’s interrupted by the Unit Chief calling out your name. Your eyes narrow when you see the case file in his hands, glancing back at Leon before you leave him, stepping inside the Unit Chief’s office, the door clicking shut behind you.
“We’ve got two new bodies,” he says, handing you the case file. “Unsub’s been crossing jurisdictions and the local police department is… well, concerned to say the least. Think you can handle it?”
You nod, flicking through the pages, nose scrunching when you see the images of the crime scene – each more grisly than the last. Mutilated bodies, blood smeared across the walls, messily carved symbols etched into the wooden door of the victims’ home.
“Seems ritualistic,” you murmur, reading through the reports. You glance up at him, clutching the case file to your chest protectively. “You’re letting me take this alone? I’m flattered.”
“Ah,” the Unit Chief shakes his head, nodding towards Leon. “Not exactly.”
“What?” you scoff, looking at Leon who gives you a smile and waves through the glass. You glare at him, yanking the blinds shut. “The old man?” you hiss, “he’ll only slow me down.”
The Unit Chief sighs, taking a seat in his chair. “That man is Leon Kennedy. DSO. It’s only a precaution. He’s more experienced than any team we could put together and after what happened with Agent Ashcroft, the FBI is trying to be more… mindful.”
“Ashcroft?” you echo, remembering the Rhodes Hill incident. “That’s– that’s because they sent an analyst into the field of all things. She must’ve been terrified. I’m a field agent, I can handle myself.”
“Agent Kennedy took an interest in the case,” he replies, hands clasping together. “If there’s bioterrorism involved, he’ll be useful. If there isn’t, use him as an idea board. The Unit Chief peers up at you, his expression stern. “My decision is final.”
Your jaw works irritatedly before you huff out a heavy breath, nodding reluctantly. “Yes, sir.”
Despite your sour mood and the urge to slam the door shut, you carefully close it, making your way back to Leon. You drag a spare chair towards your desk, sinking down onto it. Leon shakes his head when you offer him the case file.
“I’ve already read it.”
“Huh,” you stare at him, lips pursing while your eyes squint in recognition. “Leon Scott Kennedy,” you drawl, jabbing your finger at him, “you’re the Raccoon City cop. I’ve heard stories about you. Shouldn’t you be…” you gesture to him pointedly, “retired?”
“Ouch,” Leon says, his hand moving to press against his chest as he feigns being hurt. “You really don’t want me here, do you?”
“All I know is that you’re some big-shot DSO agent that I don’t need on my case, Leon,” you shoot back, flipping open the file to read the autopsy reports more thoroughly.
“The first case you’ve ever been in charge of,” Leon muses, his leather gloves creaking softly as he picks up a stray pen, putting it back into its place. “I’m impressed. Not everyone gets to be a lead on a case like this. Then again, you’re pretty good at this kinda thing.”
Was he buttering you up? He had to be. You don’t bother looking up as you mark a few things of interest off on the report.
“Thank you,” you murmur, scrawling a few notes down on a notepad before you pause, head turning to find him watching you carefully. “How did you know that?” you ask, a hint of suspicion in your voice, “we’ve never met before.”
Leon shifts, grunting softly as he tries to get more comfortable in your chair. “I took the liberty of reading your file,” he replies flippantly, his expression darkening as he tries to work the chair’s jammed lever. “Fuckin’ chair… how do you sit in this all day?”
“I don’t sit all day!” you snap, “and you read my file? I don’t care if you have the fucking clearance, you can’t just–”
You’re interrupted by a loud snap, teeth gritting together when you realize he’s pushed the lever too hard – or perhaps, underestimated his own strength – the lever cleanly detached and now clutched in Leon’s gloved hand.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he murmurs, setting the lever down on your desk, patting it awkwardly. “I’ll buy you a new chair.”
You have half a mind to reach over and strangle him. You even consider doing it, until he grumbles under his breath and shrugs off that jacket of his, your murderous intent forgotten as soon as you catch sight of his thick biceps. With those things, Leon could probably strangle you and have no problem doing it.
The sheer size of him renders you incapable of tearing your gaze away, your stare settled firmly on his shoulders, arms and chest – every part of him unfairly thick and muscular – his skin-tight shirt leaving you barely conscious of the way your throat was beginning to dry up.
Your newly broken chair creaks once more under Leon’s weight, the sound piercing through the haze of your shameless staring. You blink uncertainly, taking another lingering peek at his biceps while he’s too busy trying to get comfortable.
“We’d better get going,” you announce, grabbing the file before standing up abruptly. “The local PD is probably waiting for us.”
“We can take my car,” Leon says as he follows you into the elevator.
“I’m not in the habit of getting into cars with strange men,” you say testily, pressing a button before turning to face him.
“And I’m not in the habit of babysitting FBI agents,” Leon drawls, leaning against the wall of the elevator, his arms crossing over his chest.
The movement makes his shirt stretch tighter if anything, the fabric clinging to his broad forearms stubbornly, his watch glinting softly in the lighting. Your head tilts, eyes narrowing with irritation when you register his insult.
“No one asked you to babysit,” you say, shaking your head. “I have a gun,” you take it out of the holster attached to your hip, pointing it at him, “and I’m smart. I’ll have this case wrapped up in a day or two, so stay the fuck outta my way.”
A smile pulls at his lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he lifts his hands in mock-surrender. The amusement in his eyes makes him look a little younger, your heart fluttering with delight for a moment before you tamp it down violently.
When the elevator comes to a stop, Leon takes your bag before you can protest, his gloved fingers brushing yours briefly. You step after him, brows raising with begrudging respect when you see his car. Big-shot DSO agent, your mind supplies as he puts your bag into the backseat, gesturing for you to get in. You sigh heavily, opening your mouth to argue but Leon’s already disappeared inside his car, the engine rumbling to life. Muttering a curse under your breath, you get in his car, pulling the door shut firmly.
–
“What do you mean there’s only one room available?”
“What’s there to understand?” Leon asks, dangling the singular key in front of your face. “Rooms are all booked out. They’re celebrating some special harvest festival according to the receptionist.”
“Harvest festival?” you echo, peering up at him. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. That’s like the perfect cover for our unsub.”
“I would help,” he murmurs, nudging your shoulder gently to get you to step aside, “but you wanted me to, what was it?” you roll your eyes when he snaps his fingers, pretending to think. “Ah yes, stay the fuck outta your way.”
You snatch the key hanging from Leon’s finger, ignoring his aggrieved sigh as you push past him and stomp back down the stairs to the reception, ready to demand another room. All the receptionist does is give you an apologetic smile and offer you a discount. You swallow your pride as you trudge back up the stairs, doing your best to avoid Leon’s eyes when you find him leaning beside the room’s door, his brows raising amusedly.
“I don’t want to hear it,” you mutter, slotting the key into the lock.
Leon shrugs non-committally. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
The door is heavy as you push it open, Leon’s hand moving to keep it open for you as you step inside. You fumble in the darkness for the light switch at the same time Leon does, his strong, calloused fingers brushing over yours. It’s enough to have an unwanted shiver running down your spine, warmth blooming in your chest and a flush settling high on your cheeks despite your stubborn annoyance with him.
“Fuck me.”
You follow his gaze when he swears, taking in the lit room. There’s a shitty couch in one corner, a tiny area with a coffee machine and table, and… a bed.
“Okay,” you say slowly, staring at the one, pitiful bed you had been afforded. “Great! So I think you should go and chew out the receptionist.”
“I’m not doing that,” Leon scoffs, bending down to take off his boots, his gun clattering against the table as he sets it down. “I can take the couch.”
You look back at the couch, brows furrowing. “That’s really nice of you and all, Leon,” you begin, stepping further inside the small room, “but I don’t think you’re exactly going to fit.”
“You care about me or something?” he drawls, looking over at you with a smile as he opens his duffle bag to pull out a towel and a set of clothes.
“Get over yourself. I’m just worried about your…” you gesture towards him vaguely, “potentially geriatric bones.”
Leon chokes on a laugh, his brows shooting up. “Geriatric? I’m 49. My bones are in perfect working order.”
“Right, nevermind. You did break my chair.”
“I did you a favor,” he retorts, slinging the towel around the back of his neck. “It was a hunk of junk.”
“It was in perfect working condition!” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Do you always defend inanimate objects with such passion?” Leon muses, stepping closer until he’s only a few inches away, head cocking to the side.
“When they’re close to my heart, yes.”
“A chair is close to your heart?”
You decide to double down. “Yes, Leon.”
“Huh,” he nods slowly, clicking his tongue. “You got attachment issues?”
“Did my file not tell you that?” you smile up at him snarkily.
Leon grins, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I skipped over your psych eval.”
He turns, disappearing into the bathroom. You glare at the door and huff out a sigh, removing your shoes before grabbing the case file and flopping down on the bed tiredly. You flick through the pages absentmindedly, settling on the symbols carved onto the door. You hadn’t seen anything remotely like it before and the database search you’d done earlier in the car had come up empty.
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, glancing towards the bathroom.
You’d exhausted all your options save for one. A reluctant groan leaves you as you stand, approaching the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey, Leon?” you call out when you hear the spray of water come to a stop. “I… might have been a little difficult earlier,” your voice sounds strained, “but if you could maybe take another look at the file, then I would… you know, probably appreciate it or whatever.” You swallow, face twisting with discomfort. “Please?”
Leon laughs, the rich, deep sound seeping through the crevices. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he says, sounding entirely too entertained by your attempt to ask him for help. “I’ll take a look for you.”
You frown at the door, jolting when it swings open suddenly. A few wisps of steam escape, and you blink owlishly, finding yourself face-to-face with his bare chest. It’s hard to keep your gaze from wandering over his exposed skin, a light dusting of hair covering his chest coupled with a few scars. A strange, gurgling noise escapes you when he shifts back to grab his towel, his broad, muscled back now visible to you. You sway, moving to grip the doorframe, knees feeling weak.
“You okay?” Leon murmurs, glancing over at you as he ruffles his damp hair, brows furrowing.
“Yes!”
Your voice is shrill, pitching up awkwardly until you clear your throat and give him an equally awkward smile.
“Perfectly fine,” you clarify, this time sounding breathless as you try and fail to not look down, inhaling sharply when you see his defined abdomen and the dark, coarse hair below his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.
“It’s just that you look…” you trail off, fingers itching to reach out and squeeze and touch. Hot. Attractive. Fuckable. Really fucking fuckable for a 49-year-old man. “Like shit,” you settle on, the words tumbling out of you in a strained manner as you force yourself to meet his eyes. “You– you look like shit, Leon.” You pat his shoulder jerkily. “Unfortunately.”
“Right, sure,” he says, his head tilting as he stares down at you, unconvinced. “You really know how to flatter a man.”
“I’m charming like that,” you say, hands clasping behind your back.
Leon hums, and you stare back up at him, gaze flitting away for one moment to get a glimpse of his left hand. No ring. Perfect. You pinch yourself as soon as the thought comes.
“You gonna let me out?”
“What?”
When Leon gestures towards you, you realize you’re still standing in front of him, blocking the way out. You move to the side sheepishly, pushing the case file into his chest quickly before locking yourself in the bathroom.
You let out an embarrassed groan once you’re in the shower, burying your face into your hands. What the fuck was wrong with you? There was no way that all it took was some dorky, attractive, older man to have you feeling out of sorts. A dull ache flares between your thighs at the thought of Leon, fingers sneaking past your folds to rub at your traitorously swollen clit. It doesn’t take much, just the image of his body pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around you, mouth pressed against your ear while he grunts–
You cum with a muffled whine. Scrubbing the rest of your mortification off of your skin with soap, you dry off, slipping into a pair of sleep shorts and a hoodie. You pad out of the bathroom to find Leon sitting at the table – thankfully with a shirt on – a few containers of food littered across its surface while he’s hunched over his laptop.
“Hey,” he greets when he sees you, gaze travelling over you briefly before turning his laptop towards you. “I had a look. Your guy might be part of a cult,” Leon brings up another image, showing it to you, “they’re not the exact same, but similar enough. Might be worth looking into.”
“Cult? That’s fun,” you murmur, dropping into the chair beside him, watching as he runs his hair through his hair. “Thank you for taking a look, and the food.”
His brows raise. “Those might be the most sincere words to come out of you today.”
“Shut up,” you say, although a small smile pulls at your lips.
Dinner is quick as you both make a plan for tomorrow – visit the local PD, check out the crime scene and investigate a few related areas of interest. Leon settles down on the couch soon after, adjusting his pillow a few times before grunting as he tries to get comfortable. You were right, he doesn’t fit. He looks so awfully crammed, knees bent and back hunched at an awkward angle that even you feel bad about it.
“Leon,” you say exasperatedly, “we can both fit on the bed. That can’t be good for your back.”
“This is fine,” he replies stubbornly, shifting onto his back uncomfortably, arm hanging off the edge. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
“I can’t deal with you complaining about your back tomorrow,” you say, gesturing towards the bed. You lay down, squirming to the side to make space. “See? You can have the other side.”
“You sure your boyfriend won’t mind?”
“What?” you ask confusedly, sitting up on your elbows. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Leon grunts as he gets to his feet, dropping down onto the bed without further protests. It’s a tight fit, but you both manage, a sliver of space left between your bodies. You stare up at the ceiling, lips pursing, feeling antsy.
“Did you…” you glance over at him, feeling entirely too bold for your own good, “did you ask because you were interested?”
He stares back, brows raising. “Interested in what?”
“In what?” you repeat irritably, “are you seriously playing dumb?”
Leon smiles back at you, shrugging lazily. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe if you clarified what it was you wanted from me–”
“I don’t want anything from you!” you sputter, flushing hot. The bed creaks as you flop onto your side, facing away from him. “You’re old and weird and infuriating and–”
“I feel like you’re avoiding my better qualities.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, I know you want to, baby.”
It’s a miracle your neck doesn’t snap with how fast you turn to look at him.
“May I remind you that this,” you gesture between your bodies wildly, “is a professional relationship?”
“Yeah?” Leon murmurs, raising his brows, “is that why you got off in the shower? Rubbed one out to make yourself feel better ‘bout liking me?” He looks unfazed when your jaw slackens, tapping the wall behind his head. “Thin walls.”
“That is none of your business.” You lean closer, eyes narrowing in an attempt to hide your growing embarrassment. “HR is going to have a fucking field day with you.”
You flop back onto your side, trying to put some distance between you, but there’s such a little space on the bed that you end up half-dangling over the edge. Leon doesn’t say anything, the silence between you thick and stretching on uncomfortably until you sit up, turning to face him.
He stares back at you, the bed creaking softly as he shifts, folding an arm under his head. His shirt stretches tight, thick bicep flexed and the sight is enough to make you lose your last nerve.
Your hand cups his jaw, head dipping to press a kiss to his lips. It’s meant to be quick, fleeting, to get whatever the fuck you have bottled up inside of you. Leon doesn’t seem to agree as he returns your kiss roughly, stubble scratching against your skin, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, blocking your escape.
“Where’re you going?” he murmurs, lips brushing over yours.
“This–” you whine softly when he kisses the underside of your jaw, fingers tightening into his shirt. “This is a bad idea.”
“I happen to be full of those.”
“You’re so fucking corny,” you groan, mouth dropping open as he trails kisses along your jaw lazily.
His lips are soft, calloused fingers massaging your scalp whilst an arm slides around your waist to pull you into his side. Another whine escapes you, head tipping towards him as his hand wanders under the hem of your hoodie, hot skin drifting over your waist and higher, his thumb grazing the curve of your breast.
“And you’re a fucking brat,” Leon says, watching your expressions closely as you whine and pant, pulling him towards you for another kiss, arms wrapping around his neck tightly.
He groans into your mouth, lips slotting over yours feverishly, his hand squeezing at the back of your neck. You squirm, throwing your leg over his hip, mewling when he licks into your mouth. Leon’s a good kisser, you think dazedly as his tongue strokes against yours in a filthy motion that has heat blistering in your stomach. His hand moves, circling around the front of your throat, squeezing gently.
You blink up at him hazily when he pulls away, lips slick with spit and pupils blown out. A smile spreads across your lips as you arch into him, hands sliding up over his strong forearm, fingers wrapping around his wrist.
“You can squeeze harder,” you whisper, pressing his fingers into your skin harder, gasping when he grants your request, eyes rolling back as the pressure around your throat constricts.
“That’s a little fucked up, baby,” Leon breathes out, watching as you writhe and suck in a ragged breath, his brows furrowing.
His brows raise when you glare at him, leaning over you to let his nose nudge against yours, kissing you gently before he tightens his grip a little more, drawing out a choked noise from you. There’s a heady fog settling over your mind the more he keeps you from barely breathing, something slow and syrupy creeping into the crevices of your brain as he presses a kiss to your cheek. He’s letting go before long though, brushing the pad of his thumb over your lips roughly.
“I can handle it,” you mumble hoarsely, head tipping as he massages your throat, huffing out a breath when he laughs against your cheek.
“Yeah?” Leon rasps, his gaze darkening when you suck his thumb into your mouth, tongue swirling around the digit needily, head lifting as you feign bobbing your head. “What, you want me to put you in your place or something? Is that what you need?”
The idea is appealing. You’ve been strung tight for months, between work and the never-ending cases that were stacking up on your desk, you hadn’t exactly gotten much time to yourself, to wind-down from the constant wear and tear brought about by the commitments demanded from you by the FBI.
“Maybe,” you say slowly, looking away. “I don’t know. I guess I just want some… attention or whatever.”
“From me?” Leon says, his fingers sliding over your jaw to guide your gaze back to him. “Your way of asking for attention is acting bratty?”
“I don’t know!” you sputter, pushing at his chest, feeling shy.
“Oh, that’s cute,” he coos, smiling down at you. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll give you all the attention you fuckin’ need.”
You squeak when he moves suddenly, sitting up before he’s dragging you towards him, maneuvering you until you're bent over his lap. A whimper is punched out of you when he squeezes the fat of your ass through your shorts, lashes fluttering when each consecutive grope grows rougher until it stings lightly.
“Guess if you’re into choking, you should be into something like this,” Leon murmurs thoughtfully, squeezing your ass greedily. “‘s been a while since I’ve done this with someone.”
“Since you’ve– ah– groped someone?” you ask, hips wiggling when his touches disappear, ass lifting involuntarily to chase after his touch.
“Kissed, touched,” he sucks in a sharp breath, “groped… fucked.”
You glance at him over your shoulder, brows raising curiously. “Can you still get it up?”
A sharp yelp escapes you when his hand comes down on your ass, hard and punishing. It stings, the pain spreading out over your ass unforgivingly. You try and glare at him but his hand is coming down again, landing another heavy spank to your other ass cheek.
“It was just a question!” you protest, squeaking when he spanks you again and again, eyes squeezing shut as the red-hot pain spreads over your ass, the ache in your pussy beginning to burrow deeper.
“I know,” Leon murmurs, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “Do you want me to stop?”
You pout into the sheets, voice quiet. “No.”
He huffs out a soft laugh, tapping your hip. You lift them, letting him tug your shorts down, mewling softly when he squeezes your ass, his fingers dipping past your panties, stretching them before letting them snap back against your skin.
“Cute panties,” he says, his hand rubbing over your stinging ass, fingers sneaking between your thighs, brushing over the drenched, ruined fabric. “Too bad you’ve made them all messy, baby. So fucking wet for me. You like my hand on your ass?”
“Yes,” you grumble, glaring at the wall. “Stop asking stupid questions, you jerk.”
You jolt when he spanks you, letting out an agitated breath when his hand palms over ass before coming down again in several repeated motions. A whimper escapes you when pleasure bleeds through your body, teeth sinking into your lower lip when the pace of Leon’s slaps quicken. It hurts but feels so good all the same, your thighs trying to squeeze together with how uncomfortably wet your pussy is becoming.
“Don’t– fuck! Don’t stop,” you mewl, arching your back, tears prickling at your eyes. “Leon– please ah–”
“Please?” Leon echoes, “look at that, you’re back to being polite. Good fuckin’ girl.”
You whine in agreement, nodding dazedly as you look back at him, unfocused eyes finding his lopsided smile, heart fluttering in your chest. You reach back for him, hand fighting his shirt, lips parting, eyes slipping shut when he leans towards you, head dropping to kiss you deeply, his fingers squeezing at your ass gently.
“You gonna stop being a brat? Hm? You wanna be my good girl, baby?” Leon rasps against your lips, stealing another soft kiss, his hands still palming at the blistering flesh of your ass, squeezing every now and again to force a pitiful whine out of you. He clicks his tongue when you slur, nose nudging against yours gently. “I asked you a question, sweetheart. Use your words for me.”
“Yes,” you manage out, pushing your ass back into his greedy, awaiting palm, a few stray tears dripping down your cheeks. “‘m gonna be– nghh– ‘m gonna be your good girl, Leon.”
“Yeah?” he breathes out, voice sounding rough as his thumb strokes over your cheek, wiping away the tears. “My sweet, pretty girl.”
“It– it hurts,” you babble, jerking in his lap when he rains an unsuspecting slap down onto your ass, teary eyes rolling back when his fingers slip between your thighs suddenly, rubbing at your swollen, aching clit through the dampened fabric of your panties. “Leon– ah fuck!”
“I know it does,” he soothes, pressing harder against your clit until your legs kick up, “but you asked for this, baby. Remember? You came up to me all pretty and said you wanted attention.”
“Stop being mean,” you hiccup, leaning into his palm when he offers it to you, nuzzling into the warm, rough skin.
“Mean?” Leon whispers, “‘m taking care of you, sweetheart.” He hums as he wipes away the saliva beading at the corner of your mouth, spreading it over your lips before his thumb presses down more firmly, a grunt of satisfaction leaving him when your lips part obediently. “There you go,” he breathes out, “suck on my thumb while I play with this needy, little pussy, baby.”
You whine, fingers clinging to his wrist as you suck lazily, tongue swirling around his thumb. His fingers rub against your wet panties, drawing out a soft mewl from you as he pets your clothed pussy.
“You can take them off,” you mumble around his thumb, biting gently before sucking again, happy to have your mouth occupied. “Want you to touch me.”
“I kinda like ‘em on,” Leon murmurs, his fingers grabbing at your thighs before they move, slipping past the waistband. “Besides, I can touch you like this.”
Your eyes flutter shut when his fingers glide through your sticky, puffy folds, breath hitching while Leon groans when he feels your wet pussy. His fingers are thicker than yours, slipping over the soft skin before the calloused pads find your clit. Your thighs twitch, toes curling when he starts to rub your clit using slow, measured circles.
“Is this how you do it?” he asks, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Did you play with your clit til you came in the shower?”
“Mhm,” you nod, peering up at him, lashes fluttering. You lap at his thumb, tongue flicking against the tip playfully, letting him watch.
“Fuck,” Leon rumbles, his thumb brushing over your bottom teeth before rubbing against your tongue. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, sweetheart. Look at you.”
You smile, lips wrapping back around his thumb soon after, eyes rolling back when his fingers leave your clit to play with your fluttering hole. A long whine leaves you when he circles your hole teasingly, the tip of a finger pressing in briefly before he draws them back out to rub at your clit.
“Put ‘em in,” you mewl, hips beginning to roll against his hand, one of your hands squirming underneath you to try and move his wrist. “Leon,” you grumble, pulling his thumb out of your mouth when he tries to press against your tongue again. “Put ‘em in.”
“What happened to being polite?” he muses, dipping his finger in again and then pulling it out.
“If you put ‘em in, I’ll be polite,” you reply, blinking up at him sweetly, a smug smile on your face.
Leon laughs, watching as your mouth drops open when he finally inches one finger inside of your clenching pussy, beginning to slowly fuck it in and out of you.
“Go on then,” he coaxes, “beg all pretty for me, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”
“P– nghh– please fuck me with your fingers,” you whimper, fingers moving to rub at your throbbing clit. “Please, Leon? Want– fuck– want another finger.”
He doesn’t make you beg any further, sinking another finger into you. You shove your face into the sheets, hips wiggling back to meet the thrust of his fingers, your fingers quickening their pace against your clit.
“Taking me so good,” Leon murmurs, using his other hand to spread you open. You flush, feeling entirely too exposed as he stares down at your pussy stretching around his fingers. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy just sucking my fingers in.”
Your walls flutter around his fingers at that, hand reaching out for him blindly, fingers managing to curl into his shirt. You yank him down, mumbling something incoherent around his lips before dragging him down further, lips pressing against his. You moan into his mouth when he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you harder, curling them just right.
“Leon,” you pant against his mouth, biting his lower lip before tugging it. Leon groans, his fingers scissoring before you moan again, lapping at his lips. His eyes roll back when your lips find his neck, head tipping to bare more of it to you until you manage to move, crawling up onto his lap, his fingers slipping out of you momentarily.
His back hits the bed when you push at his chest, his fingers finding your pussy again, thumb rubbing at your clit while his fingers sink back inside. You shove your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in with a mewl, pawing at his firm chest as you let your hips drop, fucking yourself on his fingers.
“You gonna do that on my cock?” Leon moans, his fingers tangling in your hair when you kiss his neck feverishly, teeth scraping against his throat, the action enough to draw a hoarse growl from him. “Gonna ride my cock like you’re riding my fingers, gorgeous?”
“Yeah,” you murmur against his neck, latching onto his skin and sucking, all with the intent of leaving a mark of your own, like he had done on your ass. “Wanna– ahhh– wanna ride your cock, Leon.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, an arm clamping around your waist to hold you flush against him, his thumb pressing against your clit harder, the lewd noises of your pussy growing louder with every snap of his wrist. “You’re gonna drive me fucking insane.”
You smile against his throat, kissing the underside of his jaw when his throat bobs uncertainly.
“We haven’t even fucked yet,” you whisper, fingers slipping into his hair, pulling at the strands to make him expose his neck further, drawing out a pretty whine from his lips. “Think you can handle me?”
Your smile fades when his fingers pull out of you suddenly, a sharp yelp leaving you when he grabs your hips and manhandles you onto your stomach, the fabric of your panties tearing loudly as he rips them off of you and pulls your ass into the air.
“Those were comfy!” you protest, glaring at him. “Leon?” you jolt when he slaps your ass hard, pulling your asscheeks apart. “Leon, wait– ah fuck!”
You squeal when he buries his face between your thighs, lurching forward unsteadily on your knees, hands grabbing out for the pillows. He’s ruthless, tongue gliding through your warm folds, drinking down your slick with a rough growl, his hands squeezing at your hips, tugging you back onto his mouth when you try and squirm away. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw isn’t helping, scratching against your skin deliciously as he nips and spits onto your cunt.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he snaps lowly, biting punishingly into your thigh when you try kicking at his chest. “Huh?”
“I didn’t–” your leg jerks when Leon bites the back of your thigh, fingers curling into the pillows tightly when he bites the fat of your ass soon after, tongue laving over the bite.
“You didn’t what?” Leon asks, thumb finding your swollen bud, his tongue drifting over the inner crease of your thigh, barely shy of your aching pussy. “You didn’t mean it, is that it, baby?” he drawls, wet fingers rubbing over your pussy.
“Yes!” you choke out, hand slapping against the pillow when he sucks your clit into his mouth lazily, his nose pressing into your pussy, rough hands massaging your ass. “I– nghhhh– I didn’t mean it, Leon.”
“Oh, I think you did,” he sighs heavily, feigning disappointment. He clicks his tongue condescendingly. “I thought you were being my sweet girl, but turns out you’ve just got one hell of a mean streak. Just can’t help being a bit bratty, can you, pretty baby?”
“I’m not a brat,” you wail, shoving your face into the pillows the same time he presses his face into your pussy.
You don’t think anyone’s touched you like this before, let alone used their mouth like this. Leon’s strong, his hands clamping down onto you to keep you in place as he flicks his tongue over your clit, teeth scraping over the sensitive bud. You drool messily, whimpering and whining as he laps at your cunt, his tongue prodding against your hole.
“Oh fuck,” you whisper, glancing behind you, eyes wide to find Leon looking at you hungrily, his gaze dark and feral. You swallow nervously, thighs twitching when he kisses the curve of your ass. “Leon, Leon– oh fuck!”
A squeal escapes you when he presses his tongue into your clenching cunt, eyes squeezing shut so tightly that you feel dizzy, hips pressing back needily to meet the movements of his tongue. He fucks it into you, head tilting as he holds you against his mouth, a hand moving under your hoodie to stroke over the length of your back.
You arch, mewling, hips swaying dazedly as he caresses your pussy with his tongue. A soft, ragged moan leaves you when his mouth moves, returning to your clit, toes curling when he presses his fingers back into you.
“You sound so pretty falling apart on my tongue,” Leon murmurs, rubbing his tongue over your clit with a groan, his fingers crooking inside of you. “You gonna cum, baby? Pretty pussy’s clenching around my fingers.”
“Nghhh–” you slur into the pillows, trying and failing to keep your eyes open, your lids drooping shut when his fingers press against that spot inside of you, his fingers rubbing over it with just the right amount of pressure.
His stubble brushes against the backs of your thighs, lips soft as he trails hot kisses all over your skin. Your hips jerk when he fucks his fingers into you harder and faster, the pressure in your lower stomach growing greater. When his mouth latches back onto you, you moan loudly, knees beginning to buckle.
“Fuck! ‘m gonna cum– ‘m gonna fucking cum, Leon,” you whine, hugging the pillow to your chest, a sharp breath of air leaving you.
“Cum then, sweetheart,” he whispers, “be a good girl and cum for me.”
You cry out when he sucks harder on your clit, his face pressing harder into you, nose buried into your pussy. Leon groans loudly, the vibration shooting up through you, making your pussy clench around his fingers tightly. Your body trembles, knees giving out finally when his tongue flicks at your clit, another moan tearing its way out of your throat as you cum.
“That’s it,” Leon snarls, managing to hold you up despite your arms feeling rubber. “Cum just like that. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”
You whimper, still twitching as he laps at your cunt gently, tongue sweeping over your folds as he slurps down your slick, his thumb rubbing against your clit to draw out the final waves of your orgasm while his fingers slow their pace inside of you before pulling out completely.
Leon’s body is hot when he hovers above you, his hands brushing away the sweaty hair clinging to your skin, head dipping to press soft kisses to your cheek, his stubble oddly soothing as it rubs along your skin.
“You okay?” he asks softly, hands drifting down over your back, squeezing your waist soothingly, hands petting at your still reddened and slightly bruised ass. “I guess I’ve been a little pent up.”
“A little?” you murmur, fingers sliding into his hair when he kisses your neck. “I think you’re more than a little pent up, Leon.”
He grunts in agreement, dropping another kiss to your neck before laying down on his back, letting out a heavy breath.
“I haven’t exactly had time to relax,” he sighs, “too many fucking responsibilities ever since Raccoon City.”
You hum, sitting up, arms still a little wobbly. Leon watches you, his eyes tracking your every movement. You smile at him, eyes twinkling, fingers hooking into the hem of your hoodie before you pull it up over your head, tossing it to the side. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your breasts, hand reaching out before he pauses mid-reach. You take his hand, pulling it toward your breast, smile growing wider when he squeezes.
“Are my tits helping you relax?” you ask innocently, hands landing on his chest as you swing a leg over his hip, straddling him.
“Guess so,” Leon says, his other hand joining the fray, squeezing your untouched breast. “Pretty fuckin’ tits, sweetheart.”
Your eyes flutter shut as you let him play with your tits, distracted momentarily by the way his fingers move – pinching and tugging, thumb sweeping over your hardened nipples. It’s when you shift on his lap that you become aware of how hard his cock is, hips rolling against the clothed length.
“To answer your question,” he murmurs, tracing the curve of your breast, gently cupping one in his hand, thumb stroking over the soft flesh. “I can, in fact, still get it up.”
You snort, unable to stop the laugh that bubbles out of you. Leon grins back, his head tilting as he peers up at you, hands sliding down over your sides to grab your waist.
“I didn’t doubt you for a second,” you breathe out, voice laced with amusement, your hands beginning to pull at his shirt. He helps you, lifting his arms so that you’re able to pull it up over his head easily. “You do look pretty good for a 49-year-old.”
You lean forward, kissing him gently before you trail kisses down his neck and over his chest, lips brushing over his thick pecs. Leon sighs, his eyes slipping shut, a hand cupping the back of your head as you continue to lay his skin with kisses. You kiss his scars tentatively, squirming lower to kiss his abdomen, tongue darting out to trace the defined ridges of his abdomen.
“You tryna make me cum?” Leon rasps, half-lidded eyes watching you as you bite at his side playfully.
“That is a priority, yes,” you say, following the trail of coarse hair that lies under his navel and the thick bulge laying further down.
His hands in your hair tighten when you nuzzle into his sweatpants, nose brushing against the fabric. When you breathe in, you can smell him, all heady and musky and arousal is seeping into your bones once more, mouth sucking at his clothed cock.
“As much fuck– I would like that,” he grumbles, hips bucking when you mouth at him again, spit dampening his sweatpants, “I’ll cum if you put your mouth on me, baby.”
“Just one suck,” you mumble stubbornly, pulling his sweatpants and boxers down.
Your eyes widen when his cock bobs heavily, struggling with its own weight. You swallow, blinking dazedly as you take in the length and the thickness and the heavy balls that sit underneath. The tip is flushed angrily, darkened and dripping with globs of pre-cum that don’t seem to stop, his cock twitching when you lean towards it slowly.
“It’s big,” you whisper, glancing up at Leon before your eyes find his cock again, pussy beginning to throb as you imagine the stretch. “Really fucking big. You’re– you’re that hard for me?”
Leon grunts, his hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a quick pump. “Yeah, just for you, sweet girl.” He pumps it again, holding his cock towards you. “You said you wanted a taste, go ‘head, pretty baby.”
You don’t need any further invitation, licking your lips hungrily, tongue lolling out. You drag your tongue along the hot length of his cock, feeling the smooth skin and saltiness of his pre-cum. Leon groans, his hips bucking again, another glob of pre-cum dribbling out. You lean forward just in time, catching it on your tongue before your lips wrap around his thick cock.
“Fuck– fuck, baby,” Leon moans, twitching underneath you as you bob your head, beginning to suck. “Your mouth– hah– fuckkk.”
You peer up at him, eyes glittering as you let your tongue swirl around the head before you pull off, pressing a wet, sticky kiss to the tip of his cock.
“Don’t do that,” he mutters hoarsely, shaking his head, “don’t fucking kiss my cock like you’re fucking in love with it.”
You do it again, brows raising when his cock twitches, looking over to find his hand clenched into the sheets, knuckles nearly white.
“I think you like it,” you tease, moving to wrap your hand around his cock, stroking it slowly. “And… I think your cock likes it too.”
“Fuck me,” he growls, head tipping back when you take his cock back into your mouth, sucking and slurping lewdly. He groans and grunts through it, eyes peeling open to watch you swallow around his cock, your pupils blown wide with lust.
When his head lolls to the side, you take your chance, head dipping before he can stop you to suck one of his balls into your mouth. He tastes so dizzyingly nice, spit beginning to leak from the corners of your mouth. Leon’s cock kicks and you land one last kiss to the tip before he’s pulling you up towards him, muffling your whine with a messy kiss.
“Wanna ride it,” you mumble against his lips, worming closer, breasts squishing up against his firm chest.
Leon doesn’t answer, too busy tipping your head up by your chin to kiss you again, stealing your breath. You paw at his chest, fingers finally latching onto his thick biceps. Squeezing, you moan into his mouth when his tongue strokes against yours, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls back up onto his lap.
Your hips roll, bare pussy gliding along the length of his cock, the tip catching on your newly swollen clit, making you twitch. He refuses to let up with the kisses, groaning into your mouth when you pull at his hair, feverishly swallowing up every little noise that bleeds from your throat.
“Yeah?” he breathes out finally, head tipping back for a moment as he catches his breath, calloused hands squeezing at your hips. “You wanna bounce on it? Hm? This needy pussy of yours need a fat cock to keep it happy, baby?”
“Mhm,” you nod, biting your lip, arousal blistering over your skin, lust beginning to cloud your thoughts once more. You press closer, lips brushing against his ear as though telling him a secret. “It needs your fat cock, Leon.”
“C’mere,” he mutters roughly, moving you up onto your knees, hand grasping the base of his cock to hold it steady for you. “Sink down on it, sweetheart.”
You shift, lowering yourself slowly, letting out a muffled gasp when you start to take his cock, the head of it already beginning to stretch out your pussy as it bullies its way past your entrance.
“‘s just so fucking thick,” you moan softly, peering up at him.
Leon hums, his thumb stroking over your lower lip while his other hand strokes over your hip soothingly.
“You got it, baby,” he smiles, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You took my fingers and my mouth so fucking good. Only got a few inches left, yeah?”
Your brows furrow as you bite your lip harder, gasping when you finally take all of him, pussy fluttering around his cock wildly in an attempt to adjust to his sheer size. You feel so full, so much so that you think you can feel him in your stomach.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” Leon whispers, his arms wrapping around your waist as he leans against the headboard of the bed. “Take what you need from me, sweetheart. ‘s all yours.”
“Leon,” you mewl, dragging out the syllables of his name, whimpering against his mouth when he kisses your cheek. “I… I can’t,” you say, flushing hot, “it’s too big, I don’t–”
“Good girls don’t give up,” he breathes out, hands moving to squeeze at your waist, “not to mention you were so headstrong earlier. Where’s that attitude now, baby?”
“You fucked it outta me,” you retort poutily, shoving your face into the crook of his neck.
“And to think you said I was old and weird– shit, baby–”
You relish in the loud, guttural groan he lets out when the walls of your pussy squeeze around him. Nuzzling closer, you kiss the spot under his ear before your hips move, rocking and rolling in a lazy rhythm as you get used to his size.
“I’m not giving up,” you murmur, glancing up at him as he watches you, head tipping back when his hand moves up over your breasts, slipping between them to wrap around your throat.
“Atta girl.”
Leon squeezes and you moan, grabbing his wrist as your knees dig into the bedding, hips beginning to rise and fall. He pulls you into a sloppy kiss, growling into your mouth, panting as his tongue slips over yours messily, his thumb prying your mouth open. You pant, tongue lolling out as you ride his cock, the bed creaking from your motions as you fuck yourself on his cock needily.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Leon rasps, watching you with dark eyes, his hair messy and hanging over one side of his face. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, sweetheart.”
You smile at him dopily, breath slowing when his hand tightens, starting to cut off your intake of oxygen. His nose nudges against yours, breath hot as he kisses you, lips working against yours eagerly until his grip loosens, letting you suck in a breath.
“You trust me that much?” Leon asks, smiling back at you with a feral look in his eyes when your hand wraps around his throat. “You think that’s a good idea, sweetheart? You wanna choke me out while you ride my cock?”
“Oh, you can take it,” you whisper, tightening your grip. Your movements don’t slow, thighs smacking against his as you bounce on his lap, your hand landing on his shoulder for leverage as you drop yourself down on his cock harder, setting a firmer rhythm. “Heard you– ahh– kicked ass back at Rhodes Hill.”
He grins, eyes glinting, a ragged noise leaving him when you pant into his mouth, licking at his lips.
“Yeah, I still hah– got it,” Leon muses, hands squeezing at your ass.
Your brows furrow when his grip tightens, a moan punched out of you when he grips your hips starting to lift you, using you as he fucks you on his cock.
“That’s it,” he drawls, controlling the rhythm and you, his forehead pressing against yours as he jerks you up and down his thick, throbbing cock. “Take my fat fuckin’ cock, baby. Cute, little pussy’s just swallowing me up.”
You whimper, hand sliding to cup the nape of his neck, your bodies moving together as his cock carves its way through your pussy, nestling against that spot before it glides out and drives back in. His chest is pressed against yours, firm muscle pressed against your soft breasts, the coarse thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing along your clit.
“Harder,” you whisper, eyes finding his, hips starting to sway back to meet his thrusts when he plants his feet into the bed, knees bending as he fucks his cock up into you. “Want it– nghh– harder, Leon.”
“That might strain my joints, baby,” he says softly, smiling up at you when you huff out an annoyed breath. “What? You were concerned about my bones.”
“Fuck your bones,” you groan, pushing at his chest, squirming off of his lap onto your hands and knees, ass swaying up into the air. You look back at him over your shoulder, hand worming between your thighs to spread yourself open for him, wet, dripping pussy all on display for him. “‘m so empty,” you whisper, voice lilting. “Fill me up?” You bat your lashes, “please?”
Leon mutters a low curse, his chest heaving as he rises up onto his knees, using your ankle to pull you toward him, his hand stroking his cock with uneven motions, knuckles tightening when he sees the slick webbing between your puffy folds and clinging to your thighs.
You’re half-expecting some witty remark, but all Leon does is brush a rough kiss to your shoulder, grunting into your ear before he’s notching the head of his cock against your aching pussy and driving his cock into you.
“Too– fuck! Too fast!” you squeal when he starts thrusting hard and fast, the bed beginning to rock with every snap of his hips.
“But you said you were empty,” Leon rumbles into your ear, “‘m just filling up this needy, pretty fucking cunt for you, sweetheart. So stop squirming,” his hand clamps down on your hips, “and fucking take it.”
You wail into the room, thrashing under him when his hips smack into your ass, balls slapping against your throbbing clit, the lewd noises echoing through the small space. He draws moan after moan out of you, his cock pounding into your pussy unforgivingly. You think you can feel it in your throat, his fat cock sliding through your gripping, fluttering walls.
Leon’s body is draping over your back, his mouth settling right next to your ear as he grunts and groans. Your toes curl, back arching when he pushes down on the small of your back, his breathing ragged as he grinds his impossibly thick cock into you.
“Fuck,” you mewl, spying his flexed bicep near your head, drool pooling into your mouth. Your head tilts as the muscle bulges, all inhibitions lost when you follow the line of his arm to stare hazily at his veiny forearm. You lean towards his bicep, teeth sinking into the thick muscle with a moan.
Leon’s breath hitches, his hips stuttering for a moment when he realizes you’ve bit him before his thrusts start up again, his hot, heavy cock pounding back into your needy pussy. You lick his bicep, tongue laving over his warm skin, eyes rolling back when his arm moves, wrapping around your throat, his bicep pressed up against the side of your neck.
“You keep– fuck– staring at my arms, sweetheart,” Leon rasps, grinning against your cheek when you let out a choked moan, his breath cut off by a low moan of his own. “Is this what you need? A strong arm wrapped around your throat, fat cock pounding into your needy cunt and sweet, little kisses?” He punctuates his question by kissing your temple.
“I– nghhh– need you,” you whine, feeling dazed as he drops his weight onto you a little more, enough so that you can feel every inch of him against your back.
You can’t really do anything but take it, his skin slapping against yours and breath rough in your ear. When his fingers move, finding your clit to rub the swollen bud, you whimper, clutching the sheets, nails raking against the fabric as the string of pleasure draws tighter.
“‘m gonna cum,” you say hoarsely, cunt clenching around his cock desperately. “Leon– Leon, Leon, Leon!”
“‘m right here, baby,” Leon whispers, kissing your cheek, “taking my cock so well. Doing so– fuck– good for me, yeah? Cum whenever you want, sweet girl, I’ve got you.”
Your body jerks when his fingers rub against your clit faster, a ragged scream erupting from you as you cum violently. Leon swears, his grip on you faltering, the arm on your throat drawing away as you twitch on his cock, grasping at the sheets, at the pillows until Leon offers you his hand.
Your fingers lace together with his and you squeeze tightly, gasping uncontrollably until his mouth finds yours, capturing your lips in a kiss. You whimper into his mouth, knees weak and thighs tired, your death-grip on his hand loosening when he soothes you with soft kisses. Your pussy clenches and Leon groans into your mouth, his hips jerking forward unevenly.
“‘m gonna cum too, pretty baby,” he grunts, fingers pushing at your ass gently, hips beginning to pull away. “Greedy, little pussy’s clenching around me too tight, I can’t–”
“Inside,” you mumble, letting your hips sway back tiredly, trying to swallow down the length of his cock. “Cum inside.”
“That’s– shittt– a bad idea, baby,” Leon groans, his head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder as his hips rock into you, pace stuttering.
You can feel his cock throb and twitch, a soft mewl escaping you. “You said you were full of bad ideas.”
Leon lets out a startled laugh, his breath coming out in short, choppy bursts. “I did– hahhh– I did say that. Take my cum then, sweetheart, gonna flood this perfect fuckin’ cunt with cum.”
He grips your hips, thrusting forward with a hard drive of his cock. Leon swears under his breath, his hips jerking into your ass as he cums, cock kicking and throbbing as hot, thick cum floods your pussy.
You let out a contented noise when he moans into your ear, low and guttural, the sound making you feel warm. His softening cock slips out after a few moments and Leon pulls himself away from you, the bed protesting under the weight of you both. You curl up into his side, head dropping over his chest, eyes drooping when you feel the steady beat of his heart.
Leon’s hand settles on your head, stroking over your hair lazily as he pants, chest rising and falling.
“Do you feel relaxed?” you murmur, peering up at him with a sleepy smile.
“I feel fucked out,” Leon mutters, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek, rubbing at the spot of drool that had pooled at the corner of your mouth. “You did a number on me, sweetheart.”
“I aim to please.”
He laughs, hauling you closer and you smile, kissing the underside of his jaw. “You went above and beyond, I can tell you that much.”
You snort, arms wrapping around his neck. “Am I gonna get that in writing?”
“I’ll think about it,” Leon murmurs, his fingers slipping under your chin to tip your head, lips pressing against yours. You hum into the kiss, fingers tangling in his soft hair, a quiet noise leaving you as he squeezes your ass.
When Leon pulls away, you chase after his lips, eyes fluttering shut when he returns your kiss just as eagerly, your thigh hooking over his hip, brows furrowing when you feel his cock against your thigh.
You look down, cheeks flushing when you find his spent cock beginning to harden, the fat length bobbing gently as it fills out.
“Already?” you murmur, sighing softly when he leaves stubbly kisses along your jaw.
“What can I say?” Leon whispers, his hips bucking when your hand wraps around his hardening cock. “You uh… bring out the best in me, I guess.”
You raise your brows, unable to stop the wide smile that spreads across your face. “Your best attribute is your cock? That’s a little disappointing.”
He grins, groaning when you kiss his pec.
“You didn’t seem to think it was disappointing when I fucked you with it.”
“It is nice,” you acquiesce, head tipping back as he leans into you, trailing hot kisses down your neck, his hips beginning to rock lazily, meeting the strokes of your hand.
“I do have other nice, non-sexual attributes,” Leon says, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking over your skin gently. There’s a light flush settled on his cheeks and he clears his throat, sucking in a soft breath when you squeeze his cock. “Maybe you’d like to find out sometime?”
Your smile softens, affection beginning to creep in through the cracks of your ribs. Leaning forward, you kiss him gently.
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
Summary: He told you that he could smell the change in you, could smell your body calling him and begging him to claim it.
♱
Prince Baelor was watching you again.
Those dark eyes of his always seemed to be watching you these days, and while it was not something you particularly minded, you had never been one to enjoy too much attention, and while he was one man, having the attention of the heir to the throne was the attention of one man too many. You picked at your food, appetite long lost, in the hopes that it would bore him and his gaze would stray elsewhere.
Deep down you knew this hope was futile.
The dark-haired prince did not seem to find interest in any interesting thing you chose to do but instead in you. You supposed that you could be staring into a goblet of water and you would still find his deep gaze on you. Were you any other woman, you would have been flattered, but as it were, you hated attention, and you almost chuckled at that.
The gods certainly had an interesting sense of humor to place you into perhaps one of the most attention seeking houses in Westeros. You guessed they could not help it if you believed like Aerion believed, that dragon blood ran through their veins—your veins. Perhaps that was why you hated the attention so much, only half the amount of dragon’s blood coursing through you unlike Aerion.
Your brother never missed an opportunity to remind you that you were a mere halfling, only half as worthy of calling yourself a Targaryen and even less so because you were a bastard. That was a word that stung less in your adulthood, and you remembered hearing whispers of it growing up, eyes stinging as if the word was a blade meant to harm you.
You accepted now that it was a descriptor like any other—an insulting one, but a way to describe you and categorize you nonetheless. Not everyone said it with the same vitriol that Aerion carried when he said it, and your eyes found his just as he was on your mind. He ate obnoxiously and pointedly, and you swallowed down a sigh at his ever persistent attempts to get some sort of reaction from you.
“I have had my fill,” you suddenly said, standing. “I think I will retire for the night.”
You did not linger to see if your father was okay with that, hurrying to make your exit and find sanctuary in your chambers. The feeling of a dark gaze still heavily weighed on you as you made your way down the corridor, and you desperately wished that you were none the wiser to your uncle’s watchful eye.
“She is well past maturity,” you heard him quietly say one day. “Do you not find it worrisome?”
Your father’s response had been immediate.
“Of course it worries me,” the other man had almost snapped. “...but our house is no stranger to the odd late bloomer or two.”
The white-haired man was being nice, of course, recalling only one Targaryen to ever live well beyond their sixteenth name day with no presentation in sight. You were well beyond your twentieth and yet you still walked around with no presentation in sight. No heat, no rut nor anything to classify you, and when these thoughts plagued your mind, you would think on Aerion’s hurtful words and perhaps the truth in them.
You did not belong.
There was something wrong with you.
He all but uttered it the first time your father brought you home, introducing you to your siblings whose hair was just as white as yours. An eighteen year old halfling bastard with no scent, and years later nothing had changed, and you had the nerve to hate attention. Attention was all you drew, but not once had it ever been from him.
Prince Baelor—your uncle Baelor—had never been anything but kind to you from the moment your existence was no longer a secret. Where one brother regarded you with borderline contempt, and the rest took a moment to get their footing about how to take your sudden presence, the dark-haired Targaryen welcomed you immediately. You were far from naive, knowing that he most assuredly had an opinion or two about his brother and his parentage of you, but if he did, you never heard it.
For years prince Baelor had only ever made you feel comfortable and like family.
Now, all he ever did was watch you.
In the years that you came to know him, you recognized that he was an observant man. Perhaps that was why he was so different—so kind—because he was always watching. Watching the things people said, watching how they reacted, and watching and seeing what people tried to hide. Only you had nothing to hide, and yet he watched you as if you did.
As if he was waiting for you to reveal it.
“Prince Maekar demands your presence at supper tonight.”
Your chambermaid stood at your bedside with an even expression, though her eyes betrayed her. Your father could behave unkindly at times, and there was no doubt in your mind that the brunette before you had been on the receiving end of said behavior. You hated that whatever treatment she endured was because of you, but it was not enough to pull you from your chambers.
For days now you felt unwell.
…and that was what you told her…again.
“Yes, I made that clear to him, but he is insisting and…made it a point to remind me to tell you that it is not up for discussion.”
A break in her expression betrayed what her words did not, and you swallowed, guilt consuming you. There were many suppers and such you chose to miss due to your tense relationship with your brother, but for once, you really were sick. You knew that your father would not believe you, and yet you could not muster the strength to obey him.
Truthfully, you worried about just what was wrong with you.
You heard nothing of a deadly illness passing through the small folk, and as it were you were hardly one to leave the keep. Even still, you found your stomach twisting into knots at times so badly that you thought you would be sick. Two nights in a row now you awoke covered in a thin sheen of sweat, bed damp and body hotter than it has ever been.
Not only did you not want to be around your family, you were afraid to be, and just as you were about to reiterate that you did not feel well, there was a knock on your chamber door. You exchanged a glance with the other woman before she answered it, and something in your gut stirred at the familiar voice.
You were sitting up and swallowing down any bad feelings just as Baelor brushed past her. His eyes were on you immediately—like always as of late—and you resisted the urge to avoid his gaze. With a small nod from you, your chambermaid left you and the silence in her absence felt incredibly heavy. You pretended not to know why as he approached you.
“You do not look ill,” was the first thing he said to you.
A reply was on your tongue, but it was momentarily forgotten as he stopped just at your bedside where your chambermaid once stood, and your lips parted. A scent surrounded him that you had never smelled before, and it stumped you for multiple reasons, but most of all for how good it smelled. The dark-haired man was standing over you and looking down at you with the slightest curve to his lips as if he thought you were acting like a disobedient child yet again.
…and the entire time all you could focus on was the scent that invaded your senses.
“I assure you, uncle” you said after some time, finally gathering your thoughts. “I am.”
“My brother already has much to deal with where Aerion is concerned,” he hummed, reaching out and touching your cheek. “He does not need any trouble from you.”
It was the faintest of touches, and yet your whole body felt as if it was lit aflame. A brief sudden urge filled you to lean into his touch, and the thought was so uncharacteristic that it broke you out of whatever mental fog you found yourself in. Leaning away from him, you cleared your throat, and when you chanced a look at him, Baelor was staring down at you as he had been for months now.
Waiting.
He always looked as if he was waiting.
For what? You did not know, and telling yourself that you had enough problems without making any up, you swiped your tongue between your lips to speak.
“I know I have cried wolf many times before, but I am entirely serious when I say I have not felt well,” you told him, gaze pleading as you looked up at him. “Please get that through to my father. He always listens to you best.”
The handsome prince looked down at that with a fairly quiet chuckle.
“Only when he feels like it, I fear.”
Before you could respond to that, he continued.
“Come to dinner tonight,” he hurried to elaborate before you could refuse. “Appease him and plead your case, and I guarantee he will let you be for at least a few days more.”
His expression was comforting, and his soft eyes held a command there that you did not want to go against. Baelor had always made you feel safe and heard, but there was something different about it, now, and the calmness that washed over you in his presence desperately made you want to listen to him.
You did not have time to linger on that, watching as he offered his hand to you, and you took it without thinking. His palm was rough, the hand of a skilled knight, and you did not hate it. You never had, but in this moment, the roughness appealed to you in a way it never had before. The feeling against your soft palm made you curious, and before you could press that curiosity, he was pulling you to your feet and letting you go.
“I will send for your chambermaid,” he told you, but your mind was somewhere else entirely. “Your father has already been angered by one of his children today.”
You watched him go, and you watched her replace him, and still your mind remained on the feeling of his hand in yours. You felt as if you could have held it for the rest of the night, and the thought made you frown. It was not unheard of—especially in your house—to find comfort with one’s own blood, but you were not raised in the Red Keep nor Dragonstone or around any Targaryens before your eighteenth name day. These feelings did not feel natural to you, and doubly so because they were coming out of nowhere.
Your uncle Baelor has always been a safe space for you, and now…
Now something stirred in you that felt like a little more than mere comfort.
The walk to the dining hall was long, the walk to the table even longer, and somehow dinner felt even longer than those torturous walks. You sat across from your uncle, and if you did not know any better, you would have sworn he was right beside you.
The scent of him reached you from all the way across the table, and there were times you had to physically harm yourself to bring your mind back to the present instead of his hand in yours and his comforting gaze holding yours and his presence in your bedchamber. The thoughts made your skin warm, and yet even after you forced such thoughts away, you were still warm.
Hot even.
You ate as best as you could, and contributed to the conversation enough to be deemed polite, and still…your mind and body were in two separate places. A heat was taking over you like no other, and the food that once satisfied you was making you feel even more sick. It twisted within your gut like a fist, and at some point you found yourself abandoning your utensils and the pretense of eating altogether.
Your brothers’ and your cousins’ voices blended together and faded into the background all at once, and you weighed the ramifications of abandoning supper early after all the trouble your father went through to get you here. You considered whether or not it was worth it, and just as you started to swallow down your discomfort and stay, you chanced a glance up.
Your gaze connected with a dark one—a familiar dark one—and you blinked at Baelor as he stared at you as he had many times before. Conversation flowed around you, but it did not touch either of you, and you felt trapped. You looked between his eyes as he stared at you, and your uncle did not break eye contact as he reached for his ale, bringing it to his lips and holding your gaze the whole time.
You did break eye contact, however. Your gaze falling to his throat, watching—transfixed—as the sweet liquor traveled down it, watching it bob as he swallowed. It hypnotized you, as did every move he made, and you watched him pull the cup away, your lips parting at the stray traces of drink on the pink skin. Movement pulled your gaze away from his mouth, and you suddenly found his fingers—and the way they stroked the rim of his cup—more interesting than anything going on at the table.
The gentle back and forth of them piqued your curiosity just as the rough feel of his palm did in your bedchamber, but unlike before, you could linger on it. Watching their movement made something pinch deep in your stomach that was unfamiliar to you, and you felt the tip of your tongue touch the inside of your bottom lip, wanting a taste of something wholly unfamiliar. You could not place it…and then the heat all over your body concentrated in one place…and your heart dropped…
Your eyes met his again, and there was a look of knowing in Baelor’s gaze that could not be mistaken for anything else.
An uncontrollable heat was growing between your legs, spreading throughout your whole body until you could feel dampness on your forehead. The air on the back of your neck felt entirely too cool, telling you that the light sheen was not just contained to your face. You wanted a myriad of things all of a sudden, but most importantly you wanted Baelor to stop looking at you like he knew exactly what was wrong with you…because he did, and now you did too, and you were stumbling to your feet and out of the dining hall without a glance back at your father’s irate baritone.
Your late presentation was all anyone was talking about.
At least, that was how your chambermaid told it. Through the fever and the pain of your first heat, she murmured to you about your father’s simultaneous relief and disappointment. Relief that there was indeed nothing wrong with you, but his unmet hope of you presenting as an Alpha like literally every single one of your siblings. You could just hear Aerion’s voice now, mocking your bastard lineage as the reason for the fuck up.
“I told you,” he would say in that low mocking tone of his, full lips pursed. “You are not right.”
It momentarily brought tears to your eyes, and you squeezed them shut as she held a cool damp cloth to your forehead.
You were always told that the first heat was the worst, lasting for far longer than any that would follow, and in those moments where you found yourself alone and sweating through your clothes, you wondered… Why you? You could probably count the number of times on one hand—possibly six fingers if you thought long enough—that a Targaryen presented as an Omega.
It was humiliating, and this was a thought that plagued you even as you stumbled down the corridor in the middle of the night to a scent that had not left your mind and senses for days. You knew where it was taking you, and you only wanted to be near him, only wanted to indulge in the smell of him as you fought through this misery.
You were in the worst pain of your life and your nightdress was so soaked in sweat that you looked as if you had gone for a swim in it, but the moon was high in the sky and the halls were empty of anyone to witness your desperate plight, and no one else was awake. At least, that was what you assumed, but your assumptions were incorrect as the familiar door was opened before you even approached it.
Baelor could smell you coming.
“You should be resting,” were the words to greet you as you stumbled into his arms.
He said this, but it did not stop the older man from twisting his fingers into your hair and pulling you against him, your nose pressed into his chest. You deeply inhaled, lashes fluttering and eyes rolling into the back of your head at his scent. It was the scent that triggered all of this, and it terrified you how he could smell like all of your favorite things at once.
“Do you wish for me to retire to my chambers?” you quietly wondered, lips brushing against his thin shirt as you said this.
You both heard and felt him deeply inhale, and you could feel his nose in your hair. It felt strange to just stand there breathing each other in, but you decided that you did not care when Baelor gently leaned your head back, his nose dragging along the expanse of your throat. All you could focus on was his scent and how much you wanted to suffocate in it.
“All you have to do is command me, and you know I will struggle to disobey,” you breathed.
When his lips met the corner of your mouth, that was answer enough you supposed, but then he spoke, and his words traveled straight to the pit of your stomach, and you clenched down on nothing.
“Your father will be less than pleased…”
The cool metal of his rings against your warm skin soothed you as he kissed you, and you clung to him as he forced you to follow him inside of his chambers.
“Would you like for me to make you feel better?”
You started to nod, but Baelor interrupted you.
“Use your words,” he firmly told you, nipping at the place where your neck and shoulder met.
“Yes,” you pleaded. “Please.”
Every touch of his fingers on your skin soothed you, and Baelor seemed to understand that you did not want him to stop touching you. Ever. The fur on his bed made you feel even hotter, but it was of no consequence as he peeled your damp attire off of you, the cool air hitting your naked frame making you shudder.
The dark-haired prince was focused on soothing your heat, and he was only partially undressed when he pushed you to your knees, a hand on the small of your back while the other wrapped around himself. The slick between your legs was dripping down your thighs, and his thick cock stretched you out with ease because of it.
The noise you let out was unlike anything you ever heard escape from yourself, and with your forehead pressed to his bed and your fingers twisting into the fur, you could hear him using the time to completely disrobe. When you felt his bare chest pressed to your back, you could not hold back the soft mewl that climbed from your lips.
Baelor pulled his hips back until the head of his cock was just brushing against your folds before surging forward and filling you once again. You struggled to catch your breath at his pace, the hand on your back holding you down for him and keeping you in place to take him. Every push of his hips against yours soothed that fire within you, alleviating some of that discomfort deep within your gut.
You felt…animalistic.
Your teeth were sinking into your lip, and your nails were scratching at his plush bedding, and his Alpha pheromones were making you feral. You wanted to taste him and be as close to him as possible and be in him if you could. His face pressed into the crook of your neck as he rutted into you, and when his teeth grazed your skin, you could not swallow down your small yelp. It felt like a thousand bees in your neck, and you reached back to pull his head closer.
“I could smell the change in you,” Baelor calmly told you. “I could smell your body calling to me and begging me to claim it before you even knew what was happening.”
His words caused a shudder to travel down your spine, and he ran his hand down it as if he knew. When Baelor sat up, he forced you to your hands as well, and they shook as they struggled to keep you up as he continued to steadily thrust into you. The wet sound between your legs reached both of your ears, and you sighed when one of his hands gently twisted at your scalp again.
“You have always been so obedient for me,” he hummed.
You sighed a soft ‘yes’, weakly nodding.
“...always so agreeable, always looking to me for comfort,” he deeply said to you, a hand tracing over your sweat soaked skin. “Always looking to me to protect you.”
His cock stroked that fire in you, making it hotter and hotter.
“Even now, it was I who you ran to tonight to get you through your first heat,” his hand tightened in your hair. “...and it will be I who takes care of all of them. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” you breathed, recalling that he liked for you to use your voice.
“Do you understand what that means?"
His voice was getting closer, and you breathed another soft ‘yes’. Baelor’s nose grazed against your neck, followed by his lips, and when they parted, then his teeth. Your whole body shivered as they pressed into your skin, not enough to break it, but enough to make your heart skip a beat. Baelor did not ask nor did he warn you, and when his teeth sank into your neck fully, marking you and claiming you as his, your whole body convulsed.
Your arms gave out and you collapsed beneath him as you came around his cock, nails scratching and pulling at fabric as he fucked you through your peak. His entire frame pinned you between himself and the bed, and you could not stop gasping and moaning at the feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, the length of him covered in you, wet and glistening no doubt.
His facial hair scratched against your skin in the best way, and the ring on his finger was pressed so firmly against your hip that you knew it would leave a faint impression. Your toes curled as you struggled beneath him, eyes watering just a bit from the pain in your neck, and when Baelor finally pulled his teeth away from your skin, a gentle kiss soothed the irritated flesh.
You were still coming down from your high when he slowed his thrusts, fucking you gently and slow, and you leaned back into him in an attempt to get closer. One of his hands came around to your mouth, and you absentmindedly parted your lips to allow two fingers inside, sucking on them when he gently told you to.
His lips were at your ear now, and he deeply inhaled.
Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen x Reader, Aerion "Brightflame" Targaryen x Reader
Warnings: DUB-CON (bordering NON-CON), power imbalance, pr*stitution, violence, Baelor is your aftercare
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @whimsicalrogers
❤︎ Happy Valentine's Day ❤︎
Summary: A nephew and his uncle will have many things in common, their favorite whore just happens to be one of them.
♱
You did not get paid to judge your patrons and what they liked to do in the bedroom, but that simple fact did not mean that you did not. You were given coin and jewels to smile—or not—and to obey your customer of the night’s every whim…or not. Some were simple men who had grown haggard or beaten down by life’s cruel sense of humor and simply wanted to feel the touch of a beautiful woman. Many were husbands and kings and princes paying to have an urge satiated and a desire met as easily as they would pay a cook to prepare their meal.
Behind closed doors, you saw sides of many men—and some women—that they preferred to keep hidden away for reasons someone much smarter than you could say. They did not empty their pockets and come bearing gifts for you to judge…and yet you did so anyway. Some were much nicer than others, but some were much meaner too, and as cruel as they were to you, you knew they were only half as much with everyone else.
It was your job to allow them to feel comfortable being their most authentic selves.
Aerion Targaryen was most definitely comfortable being his most authentic self.
He was as cruel as he was vain and as vain as he was pretty. You supposed that was a small consolation in all of it, that you were not at the mercy of a brutal and ugly man, but sometimes you thought you would have preferred it that way. It made you nervous to look at him, and Aerion always wanted you to look at him.
“You do not have to pretend like it does not hurt,” the white-haired prince murmured. “In any case, it is all over your face.”
When he loosened his hold around the metal, you let out a large breath you’d had no choice but to hold. The small chain still dug into the skin of your throat, and his other hand was still resting on your hip, but you could breathe now and it burned. Aerion’s cock drove up into you, forcing the tears to spill over that had been resting in the corner of your eyes, and you swore that his eyes grew even brighter at that.
No, you knew that they did.
Seeing the effects of his cruelty turned him on like nothing else, only to be rivaled by the thought of what his great house once was when the symbol of it was still soaring through the skies. Aerion believed himself to be a dragon in the flesh, often whispering to you about the dragon’s blood that ran through his veins. It was a mixture of anger and sadness and awe that passed through his features then, no doubt wondering to himself how he was born during a time where that great symbol was no more, only alive in stories passed down.
You were pulled from your thoughts by soft lips and a rough kiss, making a noise in the back of your throat at how he handled you. Your lips parted against their will when the chain was tightened around your neck once again, his breathing growing heavier with every roll of your hips over his. It was hard to breathe, and your nails dug into his skin absentmindedly, lashes fluttering as you struggled to focus.
This was not the first time he incorporated such barbaric practices into his time with you, and you bore many scars to prove it, but you could only think to yourself how relieved you were that it was nothing sharp or hot. When he came, it was with a hiss, and it was times like this where any doubt about that house was diminished for Aerion sometimes moved and sounded so inhuman that you really did think him to be a dragon in the flesh.
Either that or mad.
Mad certainly made more sense, but looking at him sometimes felt as if you were looking at something other. The way he strode towards you at times certainly felt like some reptilian creature stalking down its prey, and that tongue. Oh that tongue. You both loved and loathed it, shuddering at the thought of how it would move sometimes…both on you and in you. Yes, it was safe to say that Aerion Brightflame scared you, and you judged him greatly despite not getting paid to do so.
You swore that he could tell, and you swore that he enjoyed it, evident in the way he would approach you and only stop once he was close enough to count the lashes on your eyes, looking at you from beneath his own with a look you could only describe as cruel. Yes, he enjoyed hurting you, and he enjoyed paying you to allow him to do so as much as he pleased.
Tonight was no different, and you played with the hefty coins in your hands as he redressed. You stared at the gold and wondered if it was worth him, but you had the brief terrifying thought that refusing his money would not stop his cruelty. Getting paid to let him abuse you was one thing. You could not imagine enduring it for free.
“Should you see my uncle tonight before I do…” he started on his way out, making you swallow. “Give him my regards.”
There was a mirthful glint in his eye, and you looked down, gaze focused on the stone floor as he left. The gold felt heavy in your hands, and they shook as you emptied them of it, reaching up to touch your throat. You winced at the action, knowing that however bad it looked now, it would look worse in only a day.
It was not as if many of your customers would particularly care about some mark or nasty bruise—so long as it did not interfere with how you could please them—but it was not something you would choose to wear. Especially around him, and your gaze became unfocused as you thought about Aerion’s parting words.
You made the mistake of mentioning his uncle one day, and while you were sure the young prince was unsurprised that you serviced more than one Targaryen prince, you knew that you had made an error almost immediately. Not because of what you said…but how you said it…and how you looked when you did.
The tenderness and fondness you held for the older man had slipped through, and like the vicious tormentor that he was, Aerion latched onto it and had yet to let go. He was always mean, but you felt as if he became a lot meaner after that, and you could not accept jealousy as the reason why.
He did not strike you as the type.
You did wonder though if it was a game for him, that what you deemed as cruel was simple fun in his eyes. Perhaps it tickled him that you daydreamed about his uncle like some naive child, punishing you for daring to have the thought about someone so above your station. Or maybe it was even more juvenile than that. Maybe it was not about you, at all, and instead a commonality he enjoyed having with the other man.
Perhaps that was why he always left his mark…to let the older prince know that he was here.
“You will have to forgive him…”
Baelor’s lips were gentle against your skin only hours later as your head lolled in his hand. The hair on his face scratched you in a way you liked, making your heart flutter as he kissed you again. Your fingers threaded through his soft hair, and you felt him shudder against you.
“He is young and foolish.”
He sounded equally amused as he did apologetic as he said this to you.
“He is many things, sir,” you whispered, keeping your thoughts to yourself.
Baelor Targaryen may have been kind and good to you, but he was still royalty—as was his nephew—and as comfortable as he allowed you to be with him, he could rightfully have your tongue for anything he wanted. The older man chuckled against your skin at that, seemingly understanding what you said in so little words.
“That he is,” he hummed. “...and I ask you to forgive him still.”
Where his nephew was the embodiment of cruelty, no man had ever been as gentle with you as Baelor, called Baelor Breakspear by many. He looked nothing like the average Targaryen with his dark hair and dark eyes, and something in you recognized that as the basis of his appeal. White hair and violet eyes only made you think of Aerion and the many ways in which he hurt you. It was easy to forget their relation from not only their stark personalities, but from what greeted your eyes as well.
“...but…”
“Is that what you would have me pay you for? To discuss my nephew?” he asked you, and when he looked at you, his serious gaze and the humorous curve of his lips told you that he was done with talking for the night.
You struggled to swallow, losing your voice as you shook your head.
Baelor watched you the entire time you undressed him, his fingers tracing along the skin revealed to him by your dress. It was one you had made with gold he gave you, feeling foolish at the extra coin you had to give to get it in his favorite color. However, any foolish feelings were gone when he gently brushed it off of your shoulders, his dark eyes tracing the fabric as it fell off of your skin.
“Wear this dress always.”
It was not a question or even a request, but instead an order given in the softest of deep baritones, and your nod was immediate. He had a way of making you want to please him and agree to his every wish, and you were sure you would fuck him with a potato sack over your head if he wanted it.
Luckily, he preferred to gaze at your face while inside of you, and you pulled him into a kiss when he laid you down. When Aerion kissed you—a rare thing—it was always so violent and bloody and the violet-eyed man enjoyed tasting that blood with a sweep of his tongue inside of your hurting mouth.
Baelor preferred to taste the ale on your lips, a hand behind your head as if to cradle you from the rough pillow beneath. His facial hair tickled your face and scratched your chin just right, and it was always with him that you found yourself growing wet with absolutely nothing between your legs, a rarity. You parted your legs for him so easily, eager to feel him inside of you and practically yearning for it.
Your nails pressed into his skin when he slowly slid into you, slow and torturous and purposely so if the way his smile grew crooked against your lips was any indication. He rocked against you, and it pulled a soft mewl from the back of your throat. With anyone else, embarrassment would have filled you, but with Baelor you felt no such thing.
You were too focused on the stretch of your walls around his cock to care.
He was an attentive lover, and it drove you crazy, and he knew it. His hand liked to slide beneath your thigh and trace patterns there, making your head spin as he continued to curve his hips into yours. You had no choice but to keep your head thrown back, allowing him to kiss your throat and nip at the tender skin there as much as he wanted. He chased your high as much as his own, wholly different from not just Aerion but many of your customers.
“Look at me,” he told you, his deep voice washing over you like something warm and comforting.
You obeyed, noting that they both preferred you to keep their gaze on them although ‘preferred’ was a mild way of putting it. Baelor could be cruel in his own right, but his cruelty often left you trembling and satisfied and desperately wanting more. His cruelty was something you often begged for.
His gaze flickered between your eyes as he slid his cock in and out of you, watching every expression you made and every twinkle in your eye. You could not swallow down every noise that threatened to fall from your lips, and when it made him smile, you only grew louder. You did not want to look away, holding his gaze and lifting your hips in time to meet his thrusts.
“Good,” he quietly told you, his skin slapping against yours. “Good girl.”
A shudder crawled down your spine at his words, and you lifted your head, nipping at his lip with your teeth. A light laugh caught in Baelor’s chest, and he decided to be kind, pressing his lips to yours while still holding your gaze. Your mouth was open during the kiss, breathing against his as he pushed himself into you to the hilt with every thrust.
Your nails left marks on his back that took days to fade away.
This was the endless cycle that had become a part of your everyday life, now. Prince Aerion hurt you and abused you in whatever way he saw fit, and his uncle treated you far kinder than anyone ever had. Where one harshly left his mark, the other kissed them away, and as a result you feared one greatly while daydreaming of the other in ways one could only describe as delusional.
You were at the whim of two Targaryen princes, wanting to deny one of them while unable to refuse either of them.
You could count the number of times on one hand Aerion sent for you to be brought to him. It was not often you were being led into the walls of The Red Keep, and on the rare occasion that you were, your visits were short. He liked what he liked and when your job was done, your presence was no longer needed.
Tonight, however, was not like the rest.
“I pay you handsomely, do I not?”
The white-haired prince wondered, touching that tongue of his to his lip as he regarded you.
“You do, your highness,” you defeatedly conceded.
“Besides,” he wondered, almost cutting you off. “I cannot imagine what better offer could possibly be waiting for you out there.”
You kept your thoughts to yourself, gaze tracing the wall as he ordered for a bath to be drawn. You had never slept with the prince before, and all of the nerves and apprehension in the world could not prepare you for the night that was in store for you. Bathing prince Aerion was the highlight of your night, and you swore that when you slipped up and finally begged him to stop, it only encouraged him more.
Your tearful face was pressed into a bed that was far more plush and expensive than anything you could ever hope to sleep on. His grip in your hair was painful and firm, keeping you in place as he snugly fit his cock into you. It was a pain unlike any other you ever experienced, and if you did not know any better, you would think that Aerion had a goal in mind to hear your screams and your pleas tonight.
When he was finished—for the time being anyway—he moved about the room like you were not exhausted and bleeding and nearly broken on his bed. Your gaze traveled to the teeth marks on your arm just as there was a knock at his chamber door, and when he made himself presentable, stepping out into the corridor, you did not even register the familiar voice on the other side.
Your backside was in too much pain to care, only looking up when the door opened again.
Baelor seemed surprised to see you, and then that surprise shifted into something you could only describe as disappointment. Perhaps even anger, and the dark-haired man sighed at his nephew.
“...and here I briefly wondered what poor woman had the displeasure of satisfying you this evening.”
He talked to his nephew, but his gaze was on you as he said this, and you had the sudden urge to hide from him. As if he could sense it, Baelor took his time in coming closer, and you heard Aerion pour himself something to drink.
“There is hardly reason to worry, uncle. I pay her generously for her troubles.”
The older man heavily exhaled at that, reaching for you and helping you sit up as you did your best to keep yourself covered. You did not know why, both had seen you in various states of undress, but you felt more vulnerable beneath that dark gaze than you ever had before.
“She has satisfied me for the night if you wish to have your fill,” Aerion absentmindedly told him, clearly distracted, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “Although I am unsure of what use she could be to you in this state.”
“There is hardly any need to brutalize her so,” Baelor commented, wiping blood off of your lip as he did.
Aerion’s chuckle to himself reached your ears, and you chanced a look at him against your better judgment. He was looking at you with a straight face.
“She is merely a whore, uncle. That is her purpose—to do with her as I see fit—and your fondness for her does not negate that.”
Your heart skipped a beat at that, and Aerion knew the effect his choice of words had on you, his pink lips twitching just before he turned away.
“Do have her returned to my chambers tomorrow, though,” he threw out as the dark-haired man lifted you into his arms. “I paid her far more than what she is worth, and I plan to see it through.”
Prince Baelor was already leaving his chambers, and your eyes briefly met familiar violet ones over his shoulder just before he turned to carry you away into the corridor. The silence between you unsettled you, and you were grateful for the late hour and lack of people around to see you so indecently wrapped up.
“I…” you licked your lips. “I am not sure how much use I could be of you tonight, but…”
Your words died in the air as Baelor’s eyes met yours, and you swallowed the rest of what you were going to say. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and through the pain you were in, curiosity did bleed through as he approached what you assumed to be his chambers. The guards at the door did not acknowledge your presence, and you did not know whether to be offended or grateful.
When Baelor deposited you on the edge of his bed, you looked around with wide eyes, briefly noting his presence at the door and his low voice carrying through the crack in it and into the hall. You had not even been the slightest bit interested in observing Aerion’s chambers, too petrified by what you knew was in store for you.
You were still admiring everything in the room when he returned to your side.
“I have sent for someone to bring you some bath water,” he told you, forcing you to look up at him.
You blinked when he shook his head at you, a very faint smile on his lips.
“The nerve of you,” he started. “To think that I would debase you even further.”
Embarrassment filled you at his words.
“I apologize if I offended you,” you whispered.
“You could never,” Baelor said to you, taking your chin in his hand. “Even if you did, I would not be half as cruel about it.”
Aerion’s words returned to your mind, and as if he read your thoughts, Baelor spoke.
“I do think he is fond of you too…but for entirely different reasons,” he murmured, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Only you could attract the twisted affection of my nephew.”
When he straightened again, you leaned your head against his stomach, and your eyes fell closed against your will at the feeling of his fingers against your scalp. Prince Aerion’s coin was not worth his cruelty you decided, but part of you accepted that maybe his cruelty was worth his uncle’s gentle favor. You would take one hundred bruises from Aerion if that meant Prince Baelor would kiss every one.
warnings: weed/ oral f and m receiving/ public oral/ exhibition (slightly.)/ degradation/ praise kink/ smut/ p in v sex/ pure sweetness and fluff
The first thing you noticed was that he was leaner, cooler than the others, better than how he was described. Dressed in his dark navy blue compression top and black combat pants. His pink lips were full with a blunt between them and his beautiful blue eyes had a red haze in them. The way he was sat was just so casual and dominant, his legs spread and his back slouched against the ugly red sofa with his muscular arm resting around the back. His phone was waiting on the sofa’s arm rest and he ignored every notification that pinged at his phone. He was far more interested in you, in how you didn’t seem to fit the scene. You were in your friends basement, Claire. Her bother Chris was sat in the single chair with his head tilted towards the ceiling. The couple, Ethan and Mia, was sat in the corner kissing and cuddling while in their dazed state. Then sat on the floor was Carlos and Jill, best friends but one was pining for the other. Claire had told you all the gossip about these people, including the fact that she had a huge kiss on Jill and as you look at her it’s easy to see why. Her hair looked soft and her eyes charming, a clearing of a throat breaks you away from your analysis. You gaze back up and see it was the pretty boy who had first caught your eye, he was demanding your gaze back on him, your attention in the subtlest of ways. This was Leon. The guy you had heard so much about, how he hid his sweet side beneath a personality of sarcasm and coldness.
“Who’s this?” Leon’s gruff voice says as his eyes observe you, admiring your cute trainers and white leg warmers before letting his eyes trail up to your cute lilac skirt and your long sleeve green top that clung to your body. His gaze stuck on your hands for a moment, noticing your scrunching the material of your sleeves up in your hand. You were nervous. Claire smiles, “This is the sweetheart I’ve been telling you all about!” Claire chirps before she glares down at Carlos, “Hey! That’s my spot and you sparked up early, loser.” As Claire continues her bickering with Carlos about who sits next to Jill, Leon clears his throat catching your attention again. When you finally look up to him, he pats his thighs and moves his head to usher you to sit down and you follow the silent command immediately.
Just as you reach the sofa, his big hands gently cup your hips and he guides you to sit on his thigh, you plop down onto his thigh and swing your legs. He keeps an arms around your waist before he moves his other hand to tilt your chin to face him. “So what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place full of losers like this, Buttercup?” You heart hammers at the sweet pet name he slips in and you look around the room, observing the people around you. You turn back to Leon with a pout on your glossed lips “Hey, I don’t think anyone here is a loser, you’re all unique and cool in your own way.” You mutter to which Leon chuckles, his thumb rubs against your bottom lip. “Cool? How are we cool, Buttercup?” He practically purrs to you. “Well, Chris is strong and his music taste is awesome and fun plus he’s a biker, his motorbike is so coo. Claire is just fun and she has an awesome red leather jacket, Carlos has awesome fashion sense. Claire always shows me the belt buckles he wears. Jill is pretty and super relaxed. And Ethan and Mia are a great couple.” You babbles and Leon hungrily eats your words up, hooked on your every word in his high state.
He smirks, his eyes turning mischievous, “And what about me, Buttercup?” He whispers against your ear. You blush and when you try and turn your head away, Leon’s move his hand to grip your chin making sure you can’t turn away. “Ah-ah-ah Buttercup, c’mon you can tell me.” He continues to purr at you. You shyly glance back up into his eyes, “Well, of course you’re cool. You seem so mysterious but nice, ‘n your handsome, and so chilled out.” You mutter out in a small voice and within seconds a grin is plastered on Leon’s face. “What’s your number, Buttercup?” He coos and you shake your head. Leon tilts his own at your refusal, “Why not?” You bite your lip and play with the ends of your sleeves again. “Well, you’re attractive ‘n stuff. I just don’t wanna be played or get attached.” Leon snorts before throwing his head back laughing. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as you listen to his melody of joy.
His half lidded eyes stare at you, “Buttercup, that’s not gonna happen.” He says firmly but the hint of a smile still on his face. He grabs his phone and opens it, he grimaces it. “Y’see Buttercup, if I just wanted to use you I’d ask for your social media. But I wanna know more about you. Wanna take you out and buy you pretty things. So, what’s your number, Buttercup?” He was so dominating but soft with his words you couldn’t help but pull your phone out and give him your number. Within seconds of adding your number to his phone he texts it to make sure it’s you. He hums happily. “So why are you here, Buttercup? You don’t seem the type to get high.” You rest your head on his shoulder as you settle into his la. The ambience in the room is so relaxing, some music plays in the background while everyone has their own conversations. “Claire invited me, and I was just curious y’know? Just wanted to see the gang.” He hums in response. “Well, I’m glad. Feels more complete with you here Buttercup, feels balanced out. 4 guys, 4 girls. But you’re gonna be my girl, right?” After a few second of you not responding, he cranes his neck to gaze down at you, “Right, Buttercup?” You blink out of your little stupor of admiring the group and return to looking at him. “But ‘m Claire’s girl.” He tuts at you. “No, she’s Jill’s girl. Just like Carlos and Chris are too. Mia is Ethan’s girl. But you? You’re my girl.” His voice leaves no chance to deny or squabble with him and you just nod. “Good girl.”
You and Leon stay cuddled up on the sofa getting to know each other for the next few hours. You babble to him and he listens intently making notes about you in his head. He was love struck, you were his absolute opposite but instead of shying away or avoiding him, here you were sat on his lap swinging your legs while idly playing with his fingers telling him about your family and your hobbies. And in return Leon would tell you about his life, how he’s a cop and how he didn’t have a family as they passed away in an accident when he was young. You hugged him tightly when he spoke, pulling his head to your chest so he was left resting his head against your breasts as you stroked his hair cooing to him and he revelled in the attention and the soft touches. A pretty girl taking care of him with tender touches and sweet words, he could get used to this. He could get used to you.
As Leon is coddled against you, both of you rambling away happily to each other, his high was wearing down but his feelings for you didn’t. He felt safe and content here, like you were made to calm him down, like you were becoming his new drug. Something he could be addicted to without having to worry about his health or getting into trouble with. His eyelids flutter open as he gazes up at you, “Please take a chance on me, Buttercup. It feels right when you’re here. Don’t let my looks deceive you.” His eyes are pleading, begging you to not overthink him and instead keep him safe in your arms. You run your hands through his hair, “okay.” You whisper and a soft grin spreads across his face and he cuddles back into you.
He listens to your heart beating and the gentle lull of your breaths mixed with the sweet sounds of your voice as you talk to him. He could drown in you, in how magical this moment was to him. He adored you within the first meeting and he didn’t want to part with you. But sadly the time did come and when you shifted Leon from your embrace he growled. “No, Buttercup I’m comfy.” He rumbles to which you giggle. “I have to go home, I have curfew, sadly.” You murmur and Leon’s grump demeanour quickly shifts to a hopeless look. As you stand up, he follows suit and wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles into you neck. He was like a puppy, desperate for your attention and desperate to keep you. “Promise me, Buttercup. That you’ll call me up and let me take you out on a date.” He nuzzles his head into you neck and you laugh softly. “I promise my little puppy boy.” You tease to which he faintly bites at your neck leaving a small imprint of his teeth indented on you, marking you as his. “Call me puppy again and I might have to howl at your window until you let me in,” He smirks down at you. You pull away and kiss his cheek before heading to the door and flashing him one last smile, “I’d let you in.” You murmur and the door closes behind you.
You stuck true to your word and 3 days later, Leon was outside your house on his motorbike. He was dressed in his black pants, a tight black t shirt and a leather jackets, a helmet adorned on his head hiding his handsome face from your eyes. As soon as Leon sees you he pulls it off and reveals a bright a grin on his face, he shakes his messy blonde hair. You giggle at him and walk over to him, but he beats you to it by taking long strides towards you. “I hope you don’t find me too keen that I scare you off Buttercup.” He murmurs as he places his hands on your hips and mumbles down to you. You can’t wipe the smile forming on your face from his sweet confession, You places your hands on his forearms and gaze up at him. You stand on your tiptoes and nuzzle your nose against his, “I am just as keen.” You whisper to him and he chuckles in response. “Well ain’t I lucky.” He says with a smug grin on his face, he places a small kiss to your nose and pulls away.
“Damn, Buttercup! You look amazing.” He coos down to you, admiring your white summer dress that ad thin straps and stropped at your thighs. You smile bashfully at him and he quickly returns to you and holds your hand, “c’mon give me a twirl.” He murmurs and holds your hand up high. You giggle as you spin for him and he whistles. “I don’t know what you did to me, but I want you doll. ‘S like I’m sick and you’re the only cure.” He mumbles to you as his gaze is utterly transfixed on you. You bite your lip at how blunt he is, it was like he was your fever dream. “Is it a bad thing?” You ask tilting you head and he just responds by throwing his head back laughing at you. “Never. You’re a disease I’ve been waiting for Doll. I want you to leave me bed ridden with shaking bone and flushed cheeks.” He says it so easily, the innuendos easily seen but you can tell he means it in every way.
He coughs and walks to his bike, “Anyway, I said I’d take you on a date and um-” He hands you a pink helmet, something a man as grungy and dark as him would never have. “I um painted it, kinda hoping you become my permanent passenger princess.” He murmurs and you giggle. “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” He beams at you and his baby blue eyes gleam. “Yeah?” He asks almost shyly, “Yeah.” You confirm and place it on, you strut over to him. You pull up the screen of the helmet and gaze up at him, “Y’know, we’re definitely moving fast. Hold back the love confessions for a few months.” You tease him and he smirks and slings the screen of your helmet back down with a flick of his risk. He straddles his bike and you follow suit, wrapping your arms around his muscular torso, you can feel every abdominal muscle he hides under his tight shirt and you can imagine his smirk already getting even more smug. “Fast is what I do, Buttercup. But for you, I’ll take it slow. Don’t wanna love bomb you.” He says underneath his black mask.
He starts the bike and pulls off the side and soon you begin to drift with him on his bike. You flash through the streets with the sun beaming down on you and the purr of the engine rumbling between your thighs creating a delicious little tingle. Leon smirks already imagining the effect his bike is having on you, so he throttles it making the bike roar and he speeds down the road, focusing on his directions but his mind drifts off to the idea of how wet you panties are and how they were dripping all over his seat. He groans at the thought and changes his direction, and drives you both to the woods. As you stand off the bike and peel the helmet off, you gaze up and see Leon tearing his off and throwing it down. Before you can question him, he rushes to you and pulls you to a gathering of trees, barely any sunlight gets though and you doubted anyone could see you.
Leon’s large hand frame your hips as he pins you against a tree, he falls to his knees panting his once vibrant blue eyes now dilated and nearly black. He gulps as he gazes up at you, “Can I?” He whispers shyly and you blush but nod, “Words please, Buttercup.” He pleads, a vision on his knees before you begging and pleading to hear your voice and to let him take something that he’s desperate for. “Yes.” You murmur and Leon’s head disappears under your dress, You can feel his sweet kisses being littered on your thighs leaving little mark against your skin. His hands fall down from your hips and under your dress too. He grabs your panties and drags them down and you lift your feet up for him.
You let out a gasp as his hands slide to your ass and he squeezes it before he buries his head between you folds. He groans as you let out a whimper, he licks between your folds, tasting you. You watch how his shoulders slump and for a second you fear you’ve done something wrong but those thoughts are quickly silenced by him letting out his own moan of pure pleasure and he begins to eagerly lap at your pussy. Your cunt drenching his tongue, your thighs shake and shiver and he squeezes your ass again as he latches onto you clit, bullying it with his tongue lashes and kisses. He suckles on it desperately and you whine before moaning and folding over your hands landing on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You whimper and you feel his tongue exploring your hole. He licks against your walls before he moves back up to nuzzle his nose your clit.
You cry out as your thighs tremble again. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you cum hard and he laps up every drop, like a man who had been walking the desert for years without a drop of water. You whimper at every tender licks and he pulls away. His face is flushed and his eyes are still black, yet despite his lust he remained a gentleman and pulls your panties up. He stands to his full height and you rest your head against his chest and his arms wrap around your smaller frame. His hands gently stroke your hair. “Thank you, baby. Taste so good, could get drunk off your perfect, little pussy.” He whispers down to you, you whimper how crude his words are yet he said them so soft.
You can feel his bulge against your hip and your innocent eyes peer up at him, you bite you bottom lip as he looks down at you, “Can I?” You whisper and he crumbles, “Are you sure, baby? Don’t wanna overwhelm you or ruin your pretty makeup.” He mumbles his hands grazing your cheeks. “Please? Wanna practise and Learn.” His resolve snaps, he pulls his leather jacket it off and lays it on the floor, “Don’t want you hurting or dirtying your knees.” He mumbles. As you’re getting on your knees, he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants before pulling his zipper down. His pants fall to his knees and you gulp gazing up at him shyly. Your delicate fingers slide under the waist band of his boxers and you pull them down slowly, you watch in wonder as his cock slings out. He was painfully hard.
He leans against the tree panting already over how erotic this was, he lets out a choked gasp as your fingers gently trace the veins on his cock, from the base all the way to his tip. You gently pull the foreskin back and gaze at his thick, pink tip in wonder. “Fuck, Buttercup. I’m about to cum over your damn face with your soft, little hands.” He grumbles out. His eyes are focused on your solely, and you lean forward and place a small kiss to his tip. You can feel his cock throbbing in your hands from where you’re holding it from the base. His hands catch in your hair and pull it into a sloppy pony tail. “Wrap your lips around it baby, gently.” He mutter and your wrap your puffy lips around it. Leon whimpers and you wish you could bottle that noise up and repeat it in your mind forever.
You ben to work your mouth up and down his cock, using your hand to move up and down to meet where your lips don’t meet. And soon you’re in a rhythm of sucking his cock and tongue lashing his tip, just like he did to your clit. He pushes your head gently down your cock and you gag, but Leon lets out a delightful little moan at the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock. He repeats this action being careful to not hurt you or make you throw up. Your eyes are teary as you gaze up at him, all while your nose is buried in his pubes, your throat tightening around his cock. And the second Leon looks down at you, the noise that leaves his lips is heavenly. He cums down your throat before you pull off his cock with a wet ‘pop’.
You stand up and swallow his cum, grimacing at the taste and texture but you knew you’d get used to it one day. He tucks his cock away and pulls his pants up. Once he’s finished buckling his belt, he strides quickly towards you and cups your cheeks and kisses you. His lips moving against yours desperately trying to find a way to make you feel as amazing as he did. He breaks away for air but places his forehead against yours. “I don’t deserve you, pretty girl. Haven’t even kissed you or taken you on our first date and you’ve made me cum. To fucking good for me.” He mutters.
You smile, “Could say that to yo-” He immediately cuts you off, “No, doll. This is different. You’re innocent, baby. I’m not. And you just rocked my world. You want me to spoil you, yeah? Let me.” He begs and you shake your head. “Let me, Buttercup.” You sigh, “On one condition,” You murmur, “Anything, baby.” He whispers earnestly. “Can we get a bottle of water first? My throat aches.” Leon lets out a bark of laughter and wraps his leather jacket over your shoulders and then slings his arm over your shoulders. “Absolutely Buttercup.” He coos.
Hours later, The sun was coming own ad the evening darkness was crawling up the streets but it didn’t matter as you and Leon were tucked in an underground bar. There were a few other couples around but none paid any mind, you were all far too wrapped up in your own romances. And at the moment you and your romance were gathered around a pool table, the balls were scattered around. You lean against the pool que and pout at Leon, “This isn’t fair you’re like really good! This is our fourth game!” You whine and he walks over to you. His hips knock against your ass, he makes you bend over the table and he folds on top of you. He directs the que in your hands, his mouth breathing against the shell of your ear, “Focus, baby.” He whispers and you shiver. He draws the que back for you and pushes it forward and hits the white ball and you pot 2 other balls.
Leon stands up and beams down at your proudly and you squeal in excitement back up at him. He can contain himself but lean forward and press his lips to yours. He moves softly and slowly against you, trying to taste your joy in that moment, he wanted you to share that feeling with him so you did and moved your lips against his. He pulls away, “Haven’t I let you win all four games?” He muses, his lips brushing against yours as you giggle. You nudge him away with your hips and return back to the game. All while Leon directs you and holds you, any excuse he jumps at it. He was desperate to be around you.
When the games finished he pulls you to his side, his gaze scanning you. Trying to memorise every part of you, from how your pretty eyes flash with happinesses, to how amazing you look. He was hypnotised by you, completely and utterly at your mercy. He wishes he could have this memory as a drug, his forever moment, your first date together. You watch as his eyes are filled with contentment, how fast his heart beats under your small hand that rests on his chest. You two were completely and utterly in sync with emotions, how they rose up and crashed inside you like the ocean that was trapped in Leon’s eyes.
He rests his forehead against yours, “Tell me,” he mumble, “Tell me this was the best date you’ve ever been on and you want a lifetime more and I will happily provide it. I can’t give up this. You. I haven’t felt this happy- no complete- no- I haven’t felt like everything was so perfect...ever.” He whispers and your heart aches. You close your eyes and press your head against his, embracing this sentimental moment. “This was the best date ever, give me all your dates, and I’ll give you an eternity more. This feels like the universe is finally right.” He chuckles and brushes a lock of hair from your face, “Had to out do me, huh? A lifetime of dates versus an eternity of dates. Damn baby, you got me beat and begging on my knees just so I can be near you.” He confesses and you giggle. “This is just the honeymoon stage thou-” He presses a finger to your lips.
“Yeah, and it means that in the future when we’re not in this stage it is still going to be the most wonderful thing. Even if we fight, it will always be good. You said it, I’m like a damn lovesick puppy, I’d follow you everywhere even when we hate each other. I’ll always follow you.” He whispers and your heart melts. He pecks your lips, “C’mon lets get you home. I do actually wanna take you on an another date and I wanna be in your parents good books.” He chuckles as you both begin to run to his bike, an almost silent race between you that he would obviously let you win. Always.
Of course, after that Leon was desperate for another date, for more time. And within two days you were on your second date. Riding on the back of his bike again in the pink helmet he had decorated just for you. Your arms were tucked around his waist tightly again as you flew through the scenery. Old friends seeing you cuddled up on the bike of the brooding guy they had so often thirsted for, and here you were riding freely with him while he was obsessed with you. Leon was a well known cop in the area, a sweet guy that served his community and made sure peace was secure. Grandparents loved him, and parents did too it seemed.
You had heard your father speak of Leon’s good deeds, but only a few knew of him breaking the rules. Of letting a few stragglers go, smoking weed. But in all other means, he abided the law and adored his job. And you did too, especially when seeing him in his uniform, he was hot and dangerous with a belt looped around his hips and a gun attached. The threat was sexy but the man was so soft you could never comprehend him ever hurting a soul. Even though his hands were calloused and rough, the way his touch was gentle and almost shy made your heart flutter.
As you daydreamed you had hardly realised that Leon had stopped and parked. He hops off his bike and pulls his helmet off, he shakes his messy blonde hair and grins down at you and offers one of the very same rough calloused hands you had been thinking about. You slide it into his grip and are gently pulled off the bike, his hands leave yours for a moment and he places them on the helmet and gently tugs it off your own head before hanging them off the handle bars of his bike. No one would steal them because of Leon being a sweet cop everyone knew him and what e rode so they would never mess with his bike. His hands frames your face and stoke your cheeks, “Hey Buttercup.” He murmurs and you beam up at him like seeing heaven’s light. And at that moment Leon can feel his heart melt he leans down and kisses your nose. He soothes any stray hairs on your head before sliding his hand back into yours. “C’mon doll.”
He begins to tug you to a brightly coloured building where loud fun noises swell out into the car park you are walking through. You scale your eyes up to analyse the building, seeing pictures of coins and ways to win, it was like a candy fun land, as you look up at gaze at the huge neon purple and yellow sign your eyes go wide with awe, it says ‘ARCADE’. You squeeze his hand and squeal, he just kept out doing himself and all you could do is give heart eyes to the man. You begin to skip, practically dragging him along with you and he can’t help but chuckle as he jogs to catch up.
As you step inside you’re greeted by flashes of colour, teenagers and couples and children. A place where many went too gamble but in a safer way, you walk further into the arcade looking down at the navy blue carpet that had a disgusting design but in this environment it fit perfectly. Leon follows you and grabs the classic paper cup which you put your coins in and empties a small money bag of coins into it. Leon had come prepared, he didn’t care how much he spent today just as long as you were happy. The reason why was because he felt bad about doing sexual things so fast while you guys hadn’t even been on your first date. Despite you reassuring him that it was fine and that you still had fun, through texts, he wanted to make it up to you. He wanted to win you a big plushie in those scam grabber machines. He was determined to make it happen.
Soon you and Leon were playing Mario Kart and you couldn’t help but giggle at watching his tall and big frame tying to fit into the seat. When he did eventually you were red in the face from laughter then the games began. Whilst trying to play the racing game, you both had a smaller game going on, ‘Who could distract the other the most?’ It was simple at first, you’d poke his side and he’d tickle you back but it progressed to you playing footsie and kicking his feet off the pedals and then he back to squeeze your thigh and began to slide it under your skirt. Eventually the game ended and you were panting at his teasing, despite it all Leon had let you win. You had come in 6th while he came in 7th and your heart races with love and joy, He had let you win.
You continued around the arcade trying to shoot hoops to which you were terrible but Leon loved watching your tits bounce as you jumped. When his turn came he began to shoot perfectly getting hoop after hoop. He had on so many tickets for you and after his round you both decided to team up, Leon’s front was pressed firmly against your back and as he kept getting the balls through the net you would gather than and hand them to him, and when the time was nearly up his hands held yours and together you both scored the last hoop. You couldn’t help but squeal and kiss his cheek. Leon was now your ticket carrier and you decided you’d get something at the end.
You traversed to the air hockey game, but this time Leon wasn’t going easy. You couldn’t help the laughter that spilled from your lips when you managed t score a goal against him. But for once he had one and his prize was a kiss form you which he eagerly accepted, how could he not? Having your lips against his was close to going to heaven and he’d take every second of his religious moment that he could. Eventually you looped ack to the grabber machine and pointed at fluffy gold wolf plush. He raises and eyebrow and you flash him an innocent smile, “What? It reminds me of you. ‘m gonna called him Leo,” You coo and within seconds Leon is loading his money into the machine.
By the end of the day, Leon had won you your mini Leon Plush and at the counter you both decided on getting matching bracelets and a huge bunny plush. It was a perfect date and at the end you sat outside on a bench eating greasy fries and giggling together. This was beyond perfect to you both. The sun was settling and you were sharing and stealing fries from one another as you gushed about the day and joking around. You knew that this was inly the beginning and you couldn’t wait for this fairytale romance to continue. It would never end not when life could be as beautiful and happy as this.
Seven magical months had passed and you two were beyond close, You had confessed your love to each other while camping underneath the starry sky. It was no mystery now that Leon as no longer a bachelor for the town, he was head over heels for you. To the point you had began to sleep over at his place. You clothes were beside his in his drawers and your big bunny plushie he had won you was laid in the middle of his bed. He was always waiting for you, always eagerly wanting you at his apartment. Everyday after work he would drive by your house and on most days you’d join him and drive to his where you would cook dinner together and Leon was kiss you senseless. The man worshipped you and you worshipped him. Together you were a perfect pair, soulmates.
But the reason you had started staying more often at Leon’s was because of a lot of reasons, but the main one was due to many incidents of you and Leon getting frisky in you bedroom and a family member nearly walking in giving you a heart attack while Leon’s fingers were deep inside you rubbing and thrusting away, almost daring you to cum all over his fingers and your pink bedsheets with someone so close to walking in. He would do it so often, his lust was insatiable. But he was smart and every time just as you were about to paint his fingers with your sweet juices, he would kiss you hard silencing your moan, leaving you breathless and panting beneath him as you came hard.
But the most notable incident that stirred this change was when you and Leon had stated innocently watching a movie together. His hand was rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you were dressed only in one of his t shirts and he was dressed only in his loose grey joggers after along day of work. You gaze coasted up to him and you began to lazily kiss along his jaw, and he couldn’t help but groan. His hands shifted down to your hips and he tilted his head don and caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. His tongue swirls around your mouth and within seconds the beast is loose, he quickly turns you and pins you down on your bed. Your wrist locked above your head with one of his firm hands. You whine and he bites your bottom lip, “No buttercup, we gotta stop before I spear you on my cock.” He breathes out.
You can’t help but squeeze your plush thighs together at his words, “Wan’ that.” You whisper and any sense of control is thrown out the window. Leon sits up his knees and thumbs the waist bands of pants and boxers and slides them down with one quick motion. You watch as his hard cock springs loose and before you can even begin to drool, his hands slide up your thighs and grip the waist band of your panties, “Hips up.” He commands and you eagerly obey and he pulls them off and throws them on your floor leaving them a crumpled mess near the bed.
He pulls a condom from his pocket and you raise an eyebrow and as he rolls it down his cock, “What? Gotta be prepared for fucking your tight little cunt.” He mutters and lays his body over yours like a blanket, you wrap your legs around his waist as he rubs his tip between your folds before nudging at your entrance. He slides into your tight, wet heat and you moan while arcing you back and throwing your head back. He arms cage around you above your head, you watch as his muscles flex and he pants. “Fucking perfect. This fat little pussy takes care of my cock so well. You feel it don’t you? How your tight little cunt wraps around every fucking vein. You were made for this cock, my slutty little buttercup.”
You whimper as he gives a sharp thrust, he smirks down at you. “Eyes on me, understood.” He whispers against the shell of your ear as his hips grind against yours, you can’t help but obey again. Your eyes hazy with pleasure as Leon pants down at you “Look at you, dumb on my cock, Buttercup. S making e so fucking hard,” He groans out and then he leans down and kisses you eagerly and sloppily, your tongues are wrapped around each other as the tip of his cock rubs against your g spot and bullies your cervix. You felt so full and Leon showed no sign of stopping.
You mewl and moan beneath him your eyes closing as he pulls away from the kiss, the string of spit that connects you falls down all over your chin, you were drooling and panting, your body complying to every thrust and drag of his cock. “Painted with my spit, need to paint you with my cum like a good girl, because you are my good girl, right?” You nod desperately and he can’t help but groan as he gazes down at you, as the sound of skin slapping fills the room you both hear the front door open and you tighten around him to which Leon buries his head into your neck and bits down to hide the whimper that leaves his throat. You were both so close to cumming and so Leon gives a few shallow thrusts and clamps his hand over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up, be a good little slut and don’t make another noise, just cum around my cock. Fucking mark it as yours. This is your cock, what you were built for.” He whispers down harshly into his ear, adrenaline running through his veins. When you hear footsteps climbing up the stairs, Leon quickly begins to circle your clit and thrust faster, his balls slapping and he presses his forehead against yours. “My cunt. My girl. My buttercup.” He hisses and gives one last thrust and you both cum.
You don’t have time to clean up, instead Leon quickly pulls his boxers and pants up and pulls you tot sit on his lap, the blanket covering your lap as you watch the TV just as your door opens. You heart hammers in your chest as your mum enters she smiles and waves at you and Leon and quickly babbles about her day and what’s for dinner and you nod dumbly, a little out of from your orgasm a few seconds ago. Leon holds the conversation to seem less suspicious and when your mum leaves, Leon pulls you closer to his chest and showers you in kisses and praises. You couldn’t help but shiver in delight and soon Leon is cleaning up and throwing his condom away, putting your panties in the laundry, cleaning your thighs up and your pussy gently before he puts on some clean underwear on for you ad passes you a drink of water. The only things hat ran through your head was That was too close and from then on, you decided to have sex at Leon’s apartment rather than your princess bedroom.
And of course the dates only got better, from carnivals to quiet cabins. You had gone on so many wonderful adventures together. Your family had met him so many times that they adored him, he was part of the family. He was the most wonderful man, a provider and he supported your hobbies and even drove you to work at the nearby cafe where you were a waitress. Multiple times a day older customers would ask how it was going and you would tell them the truth- perfect. You were out of the honey moon stage and were well into jut being a comfortable and happy couple, but it never dimmed your love and obsession with each other.
And now here you both were, a year later. You had moved in with Leon now, and his apartment was now a perfect mix of you both pink and navy blues mixed with blacks and whites littered the apartment and it felt good. It was home. It was heaven. Nothing could compare to the feeling of walking home from work and into the apartment, having a relaxing shower and beginning dinner just in time for when Leon arrived home. He would pepper you in kisses and whisper words of adoration before telling you about his day nearly pleading at you for you to tell him about your day.
But it came back to now, sat in Claire and Chris’ basement. Claire, Chris and Carlos all sat on the floor surrounding Jill who was talking animatedly. None of them had managed to date her yet and you can’t stop the giggle leaving your lips. They would continue to try and You and Leon had a bet, You bet that Claire would win Jill’s heart whilst Leon said Chris was going to. Poor Carlos, but in both of your defences he was a well known ladies man, a player but he had the sweetest soul. Chris was dressed in black baggy jeans and a heavy metal t shirt and you noted his hair was Cut. Clair had a cute long sleeved red t shirt on and black leather pants and she looked amazing, her hair was in a claw clip and she had some eyeliner on. Carlos just had his grey sweats on and a black t shirt, he was definitely trying his best but you noted that he had started to take care of his curls and his hair was beautiful and healthy. The leader, Jill, say in navy blue jeans and a black print t shirt, she was stunning without even trying.
But your attention was quickly pulled away by a clearing of a throat, but it wasn’t from the sofa like the first time, instead it was from right beside you. You turn your head and there he is, his eyes already red and a dopey grin on his face. His hair his fluffy and despite the red and dilated eyes you can still see that beautiful ocean blue colour shining through. He was dressed in his black compression t shirt and some black jogging bottoms. And you were dressed in one of his t shirts, it had long sleeves and feel to your knees. It was a black, long sleeve t shirt that had a cool goth design of death on it. Matched with some white thigh highs and white trainers, you hair had little white bows.
Leon gently guides you to the sofa where you first ever saw him and he sits down first before gently pulling at your hips and pulling you onto his lap. You swing you legs and look around before you see Mia and Ethan again, both of them whispering sweet nothings and making you awkwardly before sharing a blunt. Leon pulls you closer and he rests his head on your shoulder. “We’re back, Buttercup.” He whispers. You nod and idly play with his fingers, “We are,” He hums, his eyes dazed from the weed and from sentimentality. “My girl,” He mumbles and you remember when he first staked his claim on you.
So much had changed yet nothing had, it seemed mundane but it was so peaceful. The plumes of smoke fill the air and Leon presses a small kiss to your pulse points. “I’ll never forget when you first walked in, dressed so damn cute, what else was I meant do baby? Not fall in love with you? And you were scared I’d play you-” He snorts and bursts into laughter, “Not ever gonna happen. Prettiest girl, with the best personality. Best pussy, Funniest girl, Sweetest smile, Kindest eyes. Ain’t another girl like you.” He rambles and you kiss his cheek, getting your lip gloss on his cheek. His eyes light up and the dopey smile grows wider. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met. Thank you for letting me date you.” You whisper.
He nuzzles his nose against yours, “Don’t thank me. Was never gonna say no. That’s just dumb, only wanted you. Now I have you and I’m never letting you go. Gonna marry you, have kids anything and everything. ‘S me and you,” He coos and you kiss him slowly and softly as his hand creeps up your thighs and squeezes it. You smile and peck his lips again. “I love you.” You whisper. “I love you too.” He responds.
As you continue your idle babble together, watching your friends fight for affection and love you can’t stop yourself from repeatedly reflect on how it all started in this room. From a single glance and Leon being a stubborn and jealous pretty boy desperate for your eyes on him, after all he had his eyes on you from the second you walked in. You’re snapped out of your trance from shuffling and a clang, Leon huffs having dropped his lighter. You lean down and grab it and Leon puts the joint back in his mouth, “C’mon. Spark me up, Buttercup.” He mutters as the joint wiggles between his lips. You leave forward and light it up for him. “Anything for you, puppy boy.” You coo back, your first ever nickname for him and he smiles. Nothing could be more perfect than this.
Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER/violence/kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers
➥ series masterlist
summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.
~
What had once been a great fear of yours had turned into something akin to a comfort.
The basement was a lot of things—dark, isolating, and creepy to name a few—but in the weeks that you’d been exiled to it’s suffocating walls, you slowly found solace in being left with nothing but your solitude and your thoughts. At least it felt that way. In truth, you didn’t feel much of anything at all and had grown content in that feeling.
Or lack thereof.
The days blended together until it was one long endless stretch of darkness, and it gave you so much time to think. You thought about every decision that had landed you here, all the way from your first conscious memory to that fateful day when you and your friends stopped in some seemingly unassuming town for food. If you thought about it too hard, you could feel a chill creeping over your still form.
Lingering on the day your friends were murdered threatened to put you back in that headspace you’d been in when you were first brought to this house. Your breathing would become shallow at the memory of your erratic emotions and your inability to hold your bodily fluids and the time you’d nearly lost your mind at the mere sight of blood.
You had quite literally lost your mind.
You’d been driven insane by the abuse you’d suffered and had been forced to witness, mind shattering and falling apart from the actions of the same person tasked with putting it back together in whatever manner benefited him. Peter had torn you down and built you back up like some demented caregiver and despite the fact that you knew this—recognized this—you were essentially powerless to do anything about it.
You were in too deep, this was your life now, and such a thought was both comforting and suffocating. On the one hand, you knew what was in store for you. The rest of your days were laid out before you so meticulously, a breakdown of what every single day would be like for the rest of your life. In a way…it was relieving to think that you’d never have to expend any more effort into planning a single thing about your life ever again.
…but in the same breath, that was so tragic.
The excitement of possibilities and opportunities was something you’d never feel again. You’d never have that wonder about what the next day or month or even year would bring. You briefly recalled fleeting thoughts of grad school once and possibly living abroad for a while. Peter would never allow that, and even if he wanted to, Steve would never allow him to even consider the thought.
This was your life now.
Such a simple sentence brought on far too many emotions for you to handle, and so you didn’t. Handle them, that is. You didn’t feel anything and it didn’t just start and end with the complexities of your heart. You didn’t feel the pillow beneath your head nor the thin sheets over your frame. You didn’t even feel the shift in the room when someone—no doubt Margaret or Christine—opened the door and descended the stairs to bring you food.
Surely you ate.
You were still alive, after all, but you didn’t recall eating. Truth be told, you didn’t even recall bathing or using the bathroom. If you thought long and hard about it—struggling with your memory so much that it made you frown in the darkness—you could recollect brief flashes of memories that painted a picture.
Sharon’s worried face before you as she held some orange juice in front of your face, Margaret standing in front of you in the bathroom, tone pleading as she encouraged you to empty your bladder, and even Tony and Pepper standing over your bed as Pepper said something to him, her stricken expression clear even in hazy memories.
The days and everything that happened in them blended together so seamlessly that it all started to feel like a dream. How funny it was that you once feared the basement so much it was enough to give you a panic attack, and now that you were down here you felt the calmest you’d ever felt in months. You felt unreal—untouchable even in a way—and it wasn’t long before you forgot that this wasn’t meant to be forever.
You forgot that a day would come where Peter would come down—likely with Steve in tow—and tell you that your punishment was over and you could finally rejoin him amongst the world above ground. You didn’t know how you felt about that, and you found yourself wondering if you even wanted that.
Of course, you wanted that.
You couldn’t live in darkness and solitude forever, but stepping out of this room meant going back to the problems the basement currently shielded you from. When you stepped through that threshold again, Steve and Bucky and all of the other husbands would likely still be upset with you with the mentioned being more cross than the others. You would have to step back into an atmosphere where you weren’t trusted—again—and you’d have to earn it all back…again.
You supposed you still had friends in the wives, but who was to say. Yes, you’d remained silent when you witnessed Nat escape, but you had a feeling that someone like Margaret likely wouldn’t agree with what you did. You recalled a conversation you had with her once about the needs and sanctity of the house coming first. Allowing one of the wives to escape and possibly ruin everything wasn’t exactly in line with that.
Nat didn’t seem upset with you, at all the last time you saw her, but you didn’t truly know verbatim what Peter had said to Bucky to get him to take her out of the basement. Sure, he could’ve insinuated that keeping her down here and punishing her in a harsh manner after they’d been trying for a baby wasn’t smart, but he also could have flat out said to him that according to you, Nat thinks she's pregnant.
You only wanted to save her, and while you liked to think she’d understand if she knew you told Peter, you also weren’t so sure. You weren’t sure of a lot of things anymore, and your uncertainty about so much—the result of whatever truth you thought you were living being turned upside down—made you retreat into yourself even more.
“Y/N, you need to eat something…”
The familiar voice faintly reached your ears, and as you slowly turned your head, you thought to yourself that you hadn’t even heard Margaret open the door and walk down the stairs. She was staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite name, and it was only after some time did you register the weight in your lap.
Your gaze landed on a tray of food, and as appetizing as the toast and eggs and sausage looked, you had no desire to eat. You felt lucid for the first time in ages, and you slowly blinked before shaking your head. The words to tell her you weren’t hungry were on the tip of your tongue, but the redhead spoke before you could find your voice.
“You barely ate anything yesterday. And the day before…and the day before,” she breathed. “Steve wants to see an empty plate.”
You blinked again at that, and despite the fact that she was repeating Steve’s words, you could see her own concern in her eyes. You struggled to recall just how long you’d been down here and just how many plates you’d barely touched. You couldn’t recall, and despite the nagging at the back of your mind, you couldn’t bring yourself to want to eat.
Even so, you and Margaret knew better than anyone how Steve could be, and so you slowly reached out for a piece of toast.
“I’ll eat,” was all you said.
She seemed relieved as she left you—albeit reluctantly—and you nibbled on the bread in your hand. The taste of it on your tongue made your stomach twist, and you put the rest of it back down without thinking. You had every intention of finishing it later, but once your food was set aside, all you wanted to do was sleep.
Your sleep wasn’t dreamless, and it rarely ever was. Sometimes you dreamt of your mom and your friends and your life before Peter took you for himself like some villain. Those dreams served nothing more than to torment you, and you often woke from them with tears in your eyes, vision blurry even in the darkness.
More often than not though, you dreamt of Peter and your life here. Sometimes it was awful nightmares about Steve—and even Bucky sometimes—where his handsome face was contorted in that perpetual frown it always seemed to be in when he laid eyes on you. Only it would be so much worse.
Your brain liked to conjure up visions of him where he was absolutely murderous, and it was no secret as to why. There’d been the brief moment here and there where you wondered if Steve would just say ‘to hell’ with all of his rules and get rid of you—in the most violent and dismissive fashion—and force Peter to find a sane wife.
A better one.
That left a bitter taste in your mouth…and you hated it.
You liked to think that the thought of Peter with someone else only upset you because you didn’t think any woman deserved to be subjected to this. You liked to think that righteously and noble of yourself, but the truth was much more demented and depraved and twisted. No woman did deserve any of this, that was true, but the thought of Peter loving someone else made your stomach churn.
You could say it until you were blue in the face that this wasn’t love—it couldn’t be—but it didn’t change how you felt. You couldn’t fathom the thought of being tossed aside and replaced, and being replaced by someone better would only add insult to the injury. It wasn’t fair that they got to break you until there was hardly anything left only to cast you aside because they didn’t like the inevitable results of their choices.
The thought made you want to be sick.
Peter would never, and you knew without a doubt that he would never, but for all that he put you through, the least he could do was remain by your side and look after you forever. Something deep within you hated him so much for what he did—the dark-haired man worse than you initially thought him to be—but a larger part, the part that had been carefully put back together by him, only wanted him to show an endless display of apologies for the rest of your days.
You deserved that.
You deserved to be free, but that was never happening, and as it were, could you even function properly if you were allowed to walk off of this property tomorrow? Your mind didn’t work the way it did before you were brought here. It had been taken apart and scrambled and replaced with one that wasn’t your doing. You feared that you would never be able to function right again, and who would want you?
Who would want you besides Peter?
You were an abused, broken, and genuinely unwell mess…and Peter loved you for it…in his own way. You could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at you that the thought of losing you would send him over the edge, and you knew you felt the same, but you were sure it was for entirely different reasons. At this point in your life…what were you without Peter?
When you weren’t dreaming of your friends and family, and when you weren’t conjuring up nightmares of a familiar blond, you were dreaming about the man who put you into this mess. Sometimes you dreamt about who he actually was and in those dreams there was no doubt about his motives and his actions and you felt the appropriate fear when staring into his eyes.
…but more often than not you dreamt about the man he manipulated you into loving. You dreamed about welcoming him home from work and kissing him and touching him. You dreamed about the days where he simply held you as you cried, conveniently ignoring that he was the reason for your tears. In this house of horrors, Peter was your safe place, and you knew that was purposely done, but again, you felt powerless to do anything about it.
It shouldn’t be that way, but your only other choice was to spend the rest of your days in torment.
“She hasn’t eaten properly in weeks,” the soft words reached your ears, and you knew they weren’t meant for you.
There was a beat of silence, and as you were slowly gripped by consciousness, you took note of the smell of food. It didn’t tempt you, and you almost turned your head away.
“Do you think it’s because of Peter?”
Jane.
You absentmindedly wondered why she was down here and not resting. You hated to think that she’d come down here just to check in on you when she should’ve been looking after herself. You felt her hand on your head.
“She hasn’t seen him in a month…and we know how she—how they can get…”
You squeezed your eyes tight at that, heart aching for the first time in forever at those words. Had it been that long already? Had you really gone a month without seeing him, talking to him, touching him? Was that the cause of this…numbness? You were sure Peter wasn’t the only factor here, but you couldn’t deny that you missed him. You weren’t used to being without him, and this was the longest you’d ever gone without being with him since you first woke up in this house.
…but you knew that this was as much of a punishment for him as it was for you.
What if he didn’t miss you at all? What if you were in hell while each day only brought him more peace not having to be around the crazy one? That thought made your heart ache more, and for a brief moment, you never wanted to see him again.
“Steve only thinks it’s been a handful of times, but she’s not eating. At first, we weren’t too alarmed, especially considering…”
You placed Margaret’s voice now as she trailed off.
“...but then every tray just went basically untouched, and she’s lost a lot of weight. I think we need to tell Steve to contact Dr. Banner.”
You recalled a familiar face with glasses and dark hair.
“She doesn’t use the bathroom every day either. She mostly sleeps,” the redhead added.
“Have you mentioned this to Peter?”
“So he can come barging down here and start a whole other thing with Steve? They’ve only just settled back into being civil with one another. If Peter finds out she’s like this…”
Margaret scoffed, and you detected the unease in her tone.
You had never thought about the aftermath that followed your punishment and how it might have affected things upstairs. You had never thought to, you supposed. You had just assumed that Peter would fall in line with what Steve wanted as usual. After all, no matter how you felt about what you’d done, the household—or more importantly the husbands—did not agree. You’d broken their rules, and rules were rules.
It had never occurred to you that this whole ordeal—and you being at the center of it—might cause friction between Peter and Steve.
You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your name, and you were loathed to admit that it took so much of your strength to open your eyes. Jane was as pregnant as ever and glowing, and she gave you a small smile when your gazes met.
“Do you want to try eating something today?
Her tone was light, but you detected a hint of pleading.
Your gaze shifted, and you looked at the tray of food in Margaret’s hands. You eyed it, wanting to eat for their peace of mind if nothing else, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You swallowed, and Jane must have seen the guilt and conflict in your eyes.
“It’s okay,” she assured you. “You don’t have to.”
You didn’t miss Margaret’s look.
“We’ll leave it here, and you eat when you’re ready.”
She touched your face, and with a few lingering looks, they left you.
It wasn’t long before you dozed off again, but it wasn’t a deep sleep, and you drifted in and out of consciousness. It felt like no matter how much you slept, you just couldn’t shake the feeling of being exhausted. Exhausted, not tired. Your whole body seemed to ache, and you dreaded the moment you’d have to get up and shower.
The next time you were even halfway lucid, you felt a hand at your back and a spoon at your lips. On instinct, you turned your head away, but the person’s hand was firm.
“None of that. You need something on your stomach,” the voice was just as firm as the grip, and it was comfortingly familiar.
Your eyes widened a bit at the familiar face, and you unintentionally parted your lips, allowing her to give you a taste of broth. It took you by surprise, and you coughed a bit, but swallowed it nonetheless. Nat gave you another spoonful, and so in shock at her presence, you accepted it.
“Sharon’s supposed to be in my place…but…Steve and Bucky are at work,” she shrugged, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. “...and I had to see you.”
For the first time in a month or so, you felt…something. For a brief moment, your perpetual numbness had lifted, and you both spoke at the same time.
“I’m sorry.”
It was said by two different voices, but it echoed as one.
“You’re sorry…?” Confusion filled you. “Why are you sorry?”
Your voice was small and unsure, and Nat looked so like you were unused to seeing her. She was normally so strong and fierce—a great source of envy for you—but now she looked sad…and regretful.
“You felt more obligated to protect me than yourself…and had I thought for a moment that you’d see me…I never would’ve left.”
Your shoulders fell at that, and you hated that Nat felt…guilty over your predicament. Your own choices had led you here, and that was what you told her after clearing your throat.
“It doesn’t change the fact that I thought the best thing that could happen was I’d get help and we’d all leave this place…and the worst was that I’d get dragged back,” she fed you more broth. “Not once had I considered that someone else would get dragged into my mess.”
You didn’t quite know how to respond, because after all, you didn’t really agree with her. You hadn’t felt obligated to do anything. It seemed like a no brainer to you to not say that you saw her that night. It was never even a question, never even a consideration to tell Peter Nat had escaped.
You swallowed, only taking a tiny sip when she offered you another spoonful. The green-eyed woman frowned at that.
“Nat…”
The words were on the tip of your tongue, but she merely shook her head.
“Bucky was practically ready to flog me for leaving him,” she lightly said despite the severity of the topic. “When they threw me down in here, I was prepared for it. Even with my possible delicate condition.”
Your eyes met hers, and she sent you a crooked smile.
“I knew only one person could talk them out of whatever they prepared to do to me…and I knew there was only one thing you could say that would change their minds…” you bit your lip at that. “Thankfully, I thought wrong, but even if I was pregnant, I’d still understand why you did it.”
She gave a small, bitter laugh.
“I may not have agreed with it nor been the biggest supporter of that decision…but I get it,” she shrugged. “After they found out what you did, I think I was scared for you more than I’d ever been scared for anyone…and I imagine that’s what you’d felt like.”
Your gaze found the sheet on your legs.
“If I had known something that could save you too, I might’ve done the same.”
When she offered you more broth, you sadly shook your head. A look passed over her features at that, and her face fell. She set the spoon back in the bowl with a small sigh before standing.
“I had to check on you,” she told you. “They said you haven’t been eating, and I didn’t realize how bad it was…”
You noticed the way she eyed you, and you suddenly had the urge to find a mirror. She set the bowl down, and she looked unsure about it.
“I’m going to leave this here. Just in case…” she trailed off, a bout of worry crossing her features. “I’ll come check on you again when I can.”
You nodded at her words, but the shock from Nat’s presence and the few sips of broth had taken more energy than you cared to focus on, and you were already sliding back down in bed.
It took her a long time to climb the stairs and shut the door behind her.
It could’ve been days later when you heard the low timber of a voice that wasn’t wholly familiar to you. It scratched some part of your brain, but not enough for you to pinpoint where you’d heard the tone before. Unfamiliar fingers were prodding at your face and neck, and the feel had you frowning in your semi consciousness.
The man hummed to himself.
He was speaking, but you were in and out of sleep, so you couldn’t tell—nor cared—if he was speaking to you or someone else whose presence you weren’t aware of. A voice spoke back, and both sounded so muffled and far away to you.
You felt those same fingers on other parts of your body, as well as cold metal, and the intense temperature against your warm skin made you jolt a bit. You pushed at the hand, but a voice shushed you, but it didn’t sound close enough to have the intended soothing effect. Words were exchanged again, but you were already falling back asleep.
It was a dreamless sleep, the first in a long time, and it made the passage of time feel like a blink.
A voice so hauntingly and achingly familiar to you reached your ears, and you thought you were dreaming.
“I don’t give a fuck about what Steve would’ve wanted. His wife is healthy and coherent and probably getting ready to give him another Goddamn baby,” the voice hissed, interrupting a smaller more feminine one. “She’s been like this for weeks, and no one said a word to me.”
“Peter-.”
“Dr. Banner should’ve been here weeks ago. I should’ve known about this weeks ago. I should have seen her weeks ago…!”
Sleep was pulling you back in again, and the louder the voice got, the more it started to fade. The wrathful pitch grew higher and higher but also fainter and fainter until it was gone entirely, and sleep welcomed you again.
Your mind was struggling to put pieces together, and in your sleep, you thought to yourself that those words sounded like they came from some demented doppelganger, the tone sounding so much like Peter but not at the same time. You had never heard him so angry, and a voice in your head convinced you that you dreamt it, used to a sweet disposition from your dark captor, the dichotomy of which never failed to throw you into greater mental turmoil.
When your senses came to you again, you felt stronger than you had in probably two months at this point. You weren’t entirely sure, completely confused by the passage of time. The basement smelled different, and even the bed felt different, but as you shifted, you understood why.
The numbness that you had started to find comfort in was gone, and you could feel the bed and pillows and sheets beneath you…and they felt familiar. Too familiar. They felt like home. They felt like the place where you’d spent hours in Peter’s arms and hours sleeping and hours accepting the affections of the man who’d kidnapped you.
You thought you might have conjured the feeling up, but then you inhaled, and Peter’s scent filled your nose, and you thought of the nights he’d slept here alone in your absence. The faintest of touches disturbed the back of your hand, so featherlight that you could almost ignore it, but the slight pressure in your chest wouldn’t let you.
When you opened your eyes, his face was the first thing you saw.
His hair was a little longer, a little curlier and brushing his ears, and his face was as pretty as ever, but the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed his sleepless nights. Had you the strength to move, you would’ve reached out to touch them.
Peter was knelt beside the bed you shared and his hand was in yours and his brown eyes lit up at the sight of your own. His face shifted so suddenly and seamlessly that you would've sworn he’d been smiling at your sleeping face this entire time instead of with that pinched brow and clenched jaw you’d been initially met with.
“Hey,” he softly and slowly greeted, dragging the word out in a whisper. “...my pretty girl.”
You swallowed, blinking a few times before briefly glancing around to confirm you were where you thought you were. Your gaze caught onto the medical equipment by the bed, blinking at the bag two feet above you with unidentifiable liquid in it. You absentmindedly reached up with your free hand as you traced the direction of the tube.
“Hey, hey,” Peter softly admonished, taking your other hand too. “Don’t touch it.”
You looked down at the feeding tube going into your chest, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Confusion filled you, and you were just about to speak when Peter let one of your hands go to take your chin instead. Still in the process of escaping sleep, you could only blink at him, a million questions running through your mind that you didn’t have the capability to voice.
“You’re really weak and…you haven’t been eating,” you watched his face as he said this, and you took note of the dark shadow that passed over his features, and you thought to yourself that perhaps you hadn’t dreamt that interaction at all. “Dr. Banner gave you that because you need to eat.”
Peter appeared to get choked up, and your eyes widened a tad. Sniffing, he rose a bit to press his lips to yours, fingers brushing over your cheek.
“You need to eat, you need all your strength,” you felt his tears on your face. “...because we’re going to have a baby.”
He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes, his own looking between them as he spoke.
“My pretty girl is going to have a baby,” he whispered more to himself than you. “...and you want her to be healthy and fat, don’t you?”
His thumb brushed over your lips, but it was hard to focus on anything he said after ‘baby’.
“I need you both healthy,” he said, voice cracking, and he kissed you again.
His arms circled around you, and you felt his wet face fall to rest against your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there that peeked through above the large shirt, his whispered happy words reaching your ear.
Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, mentions of DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
➥ series masterlist
summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.
Your rescue just comes with a price.
⭑
You gasped, stomach tight at the feel of the warmth that slid over your folds. Your leg—the good one—was being pushed back, knee bent and almost painfully close to your head. The healing one was resting on the bed, a hand gently massaging your thigh. The soft feel of those fingers were a stark contrast to the tight grip on your other leg, and you reached down to twist your own fingers into blond hair.
“JJ,” you breathed.
You were mindful of the fact that you weren’t alone in the house. It’s not like your parents were the lightest sleepers, but they knew Rafe wasn’t staying over, and so you didn’t feel like lying to them should you wake them up. JJ hummed against your mound, and the vibration against your skin made your toes curl. His hand slid up, straightening your leg a bit and pushing it back a tad more.
You shockingly liked the slight burn from the stretch.
Turning your head to the side, you stared at the window with half hooded eyes and parted lips. Your breathing was coming out in short uneven gasps, fighting the urge to let a moan escape. Sinking your teeth into your lip, an almost inaudible whine escaped when JJ repeatedly thrust his tongue into you. The rough texture against your insides made your back arch, making JJ hum and let your leg go.
It rested over his shoulder as his hand slid up your torso, pushing against your chest and pinning you down. Reaching up, you grabbed his hand, clinging to it as he ate you out, and you almost wished you’d told your father to leave the A/C on. Sweat was clinging to your frame, losing track of just how long JJ had been in between your legs.
Rafe hadn’t been by in two days.
You knew it was Ward’s doing, and for once, you found yourself grateful to the older man. You didn’t know the specifics of that conversation following the hospital visit, but you knew it involved Rafe spending less time around you—until he could get his shit together at least. This was the third week in a row where your boyfriend wasn’t with you every single day, and JJ took full advantage.
It was just hours earlier when he’d climbed into your room just as you were about to take a shower, startling you and forcing you to tell your mother you’d just bumped into the bed. He’d kissed you the moment you’d told him Rafe was at home, and you couldn’t swallow down your gratitude when he offered to help you in the shower.
While still a little sensitive and faintly bruised, your nose was pretty much better. Your knee on the other hand still needed weeks of recovery, and you could only imagine how much longer the process would be dragged out without physical therapy. Your therapist told you that you were doing good and that your recovery was right on track, something you’d been happy to relay to JJ as he peeled your towel off of you.
The teenager in question had long released his hold on your torso, fingers sinking into your soaking cunt. Your juices made a mess of his hand as he massaged your walls, curling his fingers into you and against you and making you reach out to grab your sheets. He added a second and then a third, and when he added a fourth, you grabbed his hair again.
“Oh my God,” you gasped, repeating yourself as he roughly fucked you with his hand. “F-fuck.”
The blond chuckled at that, his amusement at your torment evident. His mouth came down on you again, sucking on your clit and flattening his tongue against your folds. You could feel your legs starting to shake, and JJ cursed when you tightened your hold on his hair, grinding yourself against his face. Running his tongue over you a few more times, JJ turned his head to gently nip at the inside of your thigh just as he curled his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, and your breath hitched.
Spots danced in your vision as you came, JJ guiding you through it as he kissed and bit at your skin. You were making a mess of your sheets, coming all over his hand, and he hummed at the feel, leaning in and tasting you again. Your chest heaved as you continued to come—out of breath—and JJ was content to lap up all you had to offer while you came down.
When he lifted his head, your leg fell from his shoulder, and you felt like a noodle as he climbed over you. His lips were shiny, and when he kissed you, you tasted yourself on them. The kiss was gentle—sweet—so different from how he was just handling you, and your core buzzed with every movement of your thighs.
“Do you want me to stay the night?” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be gone before the sun is up.”
You should’ve said no. After all, it was risky, you knew that, but basking in the bliss of your orgasm and with JJ’s lips so close to yours, you couldn’t resist nodding. You wanted to spend the night with him, relaxing in your bed with your head on his chest. At your agreement, JJ stood up, and your gaze lowered.
“What about you?” you wondered, pointedly glancing at his evident arousal at the look of confusion on his face.
JJ chuckled at that, and you watched him search your drawer before pulling out a t-shirt. You pushed yourself upright as he neared you, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head. He kissed you again once you were dressed, still mindful of your nose, and you reached for his own shirt. He made a slight noise of protest, grabbing your hand.
“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured into the kiss. “Your knee is still healing.”
You rolled your eyes, appreciating the concern, but it wasn’t needed.
“I can still…”
Your smile faded as you glanced down, JJ’s shirt still in your hand as you’d started to lift it.
The bruising peeking from underneath was clear as day, and you blinked when JJ put his hand on yours. The sight took your breath away, having been some time since you were confronted with JJ’s own tumultuous home life. He’d been staying in your pool house so much that you had to guess he was hardly ever at home to experience his father’s abuse.
“What happened?” you finally wondered, voice quiet.
When he didn’t answer, you looked up, and JJ looked like he was going to tell you to forget about it before thinking better of it. With a small sigh, he took your hand into his.
“I crashed a bike he was trying to sell,” he shrugged, relaying the information like it was nothing. “He wasn’t too happy about that.”
You blinked at him, eyes wide.
“You…you what?” you gasped, reaching for him again. “Why didn’t you say any…?”
“I’m fine,” he assured you with a smile, and you shook your head.
“You’re not though! JJ, that looks really bad,” you whispered, pushing yourself towards the end of the bed.
JJ tried to stop you, but you pushed his hands away.
“I can walk, you know,” you lightly told him, making your way to your bathroom.
JJ was close behind, hands hovering around you.
“I know, but…if you don’t have to, you really shouldn’t.”
You searched your cabinet for some cream, facing him as soon as you found it. JJ looked like he wanted to protest, but with one look from you, he relented. With his help, you sat on the sink, JJ moving to stand between your legs as he reached behind his head to pull his shirt off. You couldn’t stop your small gasp as you took in the bruise in its entirety.
It covered so much of his chest and even part of his lower back.
You could see some faint scratches from the accident he hadn’t told you about, and your frown deepened, worried about what came from the accident and what came from his father. As you put the cream on his skin, ignoring his hiss, you wondered why he didn’t tell you.
You asked him.
“You’re already dealing with so much,” he said, and you looked up at him. “I was angry about Rafe, and I’d crashed it before I realized what was happening, and…”
You watched him swallow, eyes troubled.
“I hated that you were being put through his bullshit,” he roughly whispered. “I felt like…I don’t know…like… Like you shouldn’t be the only one hurting.”
Your heart sank at that, lips parting.
JJ scoffed.
“I kept egging him on…”
You softly sighed, gently brushing your fingers over his skin. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the dark coloring, and when you paused, you felt JJ’s hand on your cheek.
“How long?”
You didn’t need to elaborate.
“Too long.”
You didn’t know what to say funnily enough.
Your situation with Rafe was so similar but also just as different in many ways. Rafe was your boyfriend, someone with no familial ties to you whatsoever, fear and conditioning keeping you at his side. JJ’s abuser was his own father, and you didn’t want to imagine the turmoil he felt to remain so loyal and open to the person who raised him. The same person hurting him…
When he helped you back to your bed, you took his hands as you sat down. Glancing up at him, you leaned in, only breaking eye contact when your lips came in contact with his stomach. The skin tightened briefly beneath your touch, but the blond eventually relaxed. You kept your lips against the bruise, wishing you could kiss every single one away.
“Your face looks much better,” Sarah commented, a smile on her face as she sat on your couch. “The last time I saw you, it still looked a little scary.”
Her chuckle was nervous, carefully watching you as you joined her.
“You sure you should be walking?”
You gave her a reassuring smile as you handed her the muffin your mother had baked.
“I can walk, Sarah, it’s fine,” you gently told her. “I just can’t be on it too much.”
She nodded at that, picking at the pastry. There was a look on her face like she had something on her mind, and you watched her shoulders heave.
“Rafe’s tied up with dad and business stuff,” she said. “You probably already know.”
“Yeah, he was here yesterday,” you let her know, swallowing at the memory of his hand on your throat as he fucked you against the couch. “He’s been tied up with Ward a lot recently, so there’s been a few times a week I don’t see him.”
Sarah hummed at that, taking another bite.
“You…don’t seem all that bothered by that,” she commented.
When you looked at her again, her blue gaze was on you, and you frowned slightly.
“I mean, we always spend so much time together. A day or two apart isn’t the end of the world, especially when it’s for a valid reason.”
Sarah slowly nodded at that, and again, you could tell that something was on her mind.
She finally voiced it.
“I never got the chance to talk about what JJ said at the hospital…”
Her demeanor suddenly made a lot more sense, and you let out a soft ‘ah’.
“Every time I visited you, your parents were around, or Rafe was around, and it just didn’t feel like the right time.”
You gave a light chuckle at that, supposing you agreed.
“I mean… that was crazy,” she scoffed. “I don’t even know why he would say that. Do you?”
You shook your head at her, wholly aware of the fact that the man in question was just upstairs in your bedroom.
“You know how JJ and Rafe are with each other,” was all you had to add.
Your words made her eyebrows shoot up.
“Yeah, they fight and can’t stand each other, but JJ accused Rafe of hurting you. He’s an asshole, that I’ll never disagree with, but…” she glanced away, shaking her head. “You broke your nose.”
She frantically blinked.
“You fractured your knee,” she stressed. “I don’t understand why JJ would accuse Rafe of doing that.”
Pretending like you had no idea why he would, you sighed.
“Did you ask him? I just… I don’t know, I just assumed it was because of his feelings about Rafe.”
Running her hand through her hair, Sarah sighed in frustration.
“Yeah, I did, and he just keeps saying to forget it…that he was mad. I know you guys hung out like twice, but I didn’t even think he cared about you like that. Not enough to accuse Rafe of something so horrible,” she mused. “You guys don’t even talk.”
Her face was pinched as she tried to make sense of it, and part of you felt bad for lying to her.
“Why would he say that?” she wondered more so to herself. “I can’t really imagine JJ going that far just because he hates Rafe, you know?”
You nodded, and she continued.
“…and you know more than anyone how much I hate you two together, but it’s just because you could do so much better. Rafe just can’t seem to get his shit together, and he treats you like a child, but I…” Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think I could ever think Rafe is capable of what JJ accused him of.”
Your eyes met hers at that, and she shrugged.
“God knows Rafe is such an asshole, but even I can’t imagine him hurting you like that.”
You pressed your lips together, taking in how upset the thought made Sarah, and you got it. They fought and hated each other at times, but from what you’d seen, that’s just how siblings were sometimes. You never once thought Sarah genuinely hated her brother. She loved him, and even if she didn’t like him most days, she’d never want to imagine he was way worse than what she already thought him to be.
“I think JJ was just worried. It’s like you said, I looked scary coming out of that room,” you chuckled. “…and it probably just got the best of him, and Rafe was an easy target.”
Sarah seemed to stew on that, and you briefly glanced up the stairs.
Her next words shocked you.
“Do you think he likes you or something?”
Your eyes were wide when you looked at her again.
“JJ?”
“Yeah,” she lightly said with a shrug. “Anybody could see that he did seem really concerned about you.”
That was the last thing you wanted to hear, because if anyone could see that, then that most definitely included Rafe.
“Worried enough to full blown attack Rafe? You two only talked like two or three times, but…I guess that’s enough to get a little crush.”
The blonde was smiling, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to return.
“Sarah,” you nervously warned, and she waved you off.
“I know, I know. You and Rafe, and…Rafe would lose his mind if he thought JJ liked you, but I can’t see why else he would react like he did. I do get it though,” she shrugged, leaning back. “You’re pretty, and you’re sweet, and you’re dating the guy he probably hates most in this world.”
Her words brought out a lot of emotions, and you couldn’t deny the way your chest bloomed at the idea of gushing over JJ with Sarah like he was your boyfriend instead of Rafe. You couldn’t though, and swallowing down those feelings, you rolled your eyes at her.
“I don’t think about JJ like that.”
“I know, I know,” she huffed. “You and Rafe, but I’m not going to pretend like I’d hate the idea. I’d definitely love it more than you with my brother, that’s for sure.”
Part if you wanted to tell Sarah the truth. God knows that you did, but it was too risky. While you suspected she wouldn’t care about you cheating on Rafe, she also knew you well, and wouldn’t believe you’d just decided to start sneaking around with JJ without an airtight valid reason. If you told Sarah about you and JJ, she’d know that something was seriously wrong with your relationship with her brother, and considering recent events like JJ’s accusation…
It was just too risky.
You pressed your forehead to your bed, nails dragging along your sheets as JJ pushed his cock into you. His chest was pressed to your back, forearms resting on either side of you and keeping you caged beneath him with every descent of his hips. His face was pressed into the place where your neck and shoulder met, peppering kisses along your skin as he fucked you, and you reached back to glide your fingers through his damp hair.
After showering with you, JJ hadn’t exactly been in a hurry to help dry you off, and you found out why when his lips had met the back of your neck. His hands on your waist had guided you towards your bed, his soft voice in your ear telling you to just relax. You hated being so limp beneath him, but you knew that JJ just wanted to be mindful of your knee.
He was comfortable between your parted legs, taking his time in thrusting into you, skin dragging against yours. Your toes curled as he stretched you out, and a shiver crawled up your spine as he pressed kisses along your shoulder. You really wanted to face him, but every time you tried, JJ warned you off.
“Relax, princess,” he lightly laughed against your skin. “Let me do all the work.”
You rolled your eyes, a laugh on the tip of your tongue when a particularly forceful thrust made you gasp. He nipped at the skin of your neck as you moaned, eyes rolling as he plunged his cock into you. After taking a few deep breaths, you replied.
“Please, JJ,” you sighed, tone pleading.
He hummed at that, and you could feel the smirk on his lips.
“I think I like you when you’re needy.”
You pulled on his roots, making him hiss, but it quickly faded into a chuckle.
“I swear you’re only this bratty with me…”
You didn’t refute him, but a smile did dance along your lips as he pulled out of you. He was gentle in pushing you onto your back, and he softly tapped your right thigh as he climbed over you.
“Keep this leg down,” he warned.
His tone was mirthful, but you knew he was serious, and you gasped when he bent your other leg, pushing the head of his cock past your folds. He took his time in slipping into you again, and your back arched up towards him. The blond groaned at the tight grip around his cock, fitting snugly inside of you, and you reached up to clasp your hands behind his neck.
JJ held himself above you, one hand pressed into the mattress while the other kept your leg hooked on his hip. His blond hair hung onto his forehead, just as damp as it was before due to the thin layer of sweat that clung to his skin. Pulling him down, you lifted yourself slightly to brush your lips against his.
You could hear how wet you were, hear the sound of his cock disappearing into you, but even if you didn’t you could feel how wet you were. You were dripping around JJ, making a mess of your sheets, and as if reading your mind, he looked down to watch his cock go in and out of you. You were just about to reach down and touch yourself when you thought you heard the last thing you wanted to hear.
You froze beneath JJ, quietly telling him to stop.
“What?” he breathed, kissing your jaw.
He was still thrusting into you, and you turned your head towards the window. Heart dropping, you quickly and gently repeatedly hit JJ’s arm.
“I think I hear Rafe’s truck,” you gasped.
At that, the guy on top of you did stop, and in the silence, you confirmed that it was indeed the distinct sound of Rafe’s truck you heard pulling into the driveway.
You remained still for half a second more.
You sat up as soon as JJ got off of you, and you were quick to grab your T-shirt, pulling it on and limping a bit towards the window. You already knew it, but the sight of Rafe’s vehicle in your yard—confirming your suspicions—made your heart drop to your stomach. To make matters worse, any hope you had that JJ could sneak out while you let your boyfriend in were quickly crushed.
You could make out Topper in his passenger seat, and you didn’t doubt that Kelce was in attendance too.
“Oh my God,” you breathed, voice shaky.
You felt like you were going to be sick, and when you turned towards JJ, he’d already pulled his pants back on.
“Topper and Kelce are in his truck,” you choked out, and JJ met you halfway.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he reassured you. “I’ll hide, alright?”
It seemed the only option, and although you nodded, you wanted to throw up as you thought about what could happen if he was caught. You heard your phone vibrate then, no doubt Rafe telling you to let him in. You trembled at the sound, and JJ ran his hands over your temple and cheek.
“He won’t fine me,” he told you, kissing your face and lips. “If they’re with him he can’t plan on staying long.”
That did reassure you, and you nodded, telling yourself you only had to entertain him for a bit.
“Look, JJ…whatever you hear…”
You didn’t continue, and when you looked at his face, you noticed the way it clouded over. He seemed to understand where you were going with this, and after some time, he gave you a nod.
“You can’t come out no matter what. I don’t care what you hear—what he does, you cannot-.”
“I know,” he said, sounding unhappy with that, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.
At JJ’s urging, you hurried downstairs as best as you could. You took deep breaths the entire way, fixing your face and repeatedly telling yourself everything would be fine. The guy you were cheating on your boyfriend with was currently hiding upstairs, and your volatile boyfriend was about to walk through the door…but everything would be fine. Your stomach twisted more and more the closer you got to the door, and when you finally opened it, you gave him a small smile.
“I thought that maybe you’d get your mother to get the door or something,” was how he greeted you. “You shouldn’t be on that leg unless you need to be.”
Swallowing down a sigh, you gave him a look.
“She’s asleep, Rafe, and I wasn’t expecting you to drop by at eleven at night.”
He nodded at that, leaning in to briefly kiss you on the lips.
“I know,” he huffed. “…but my dad has basically been keeping me hostage, and I’m going to Top’s tonight, and I haven’t had the chance to see you in like three days.”
When he brushed past you towards the stairs, your heart skipped a beat, and you quietly took his hand as he offered it. As he helped you back to your room, you thought to yourself that Rafe didn’t like being away from you, sure, but it was more than just about missing you. He never wanted you to get too comfortable with not having him around.
This unexpected drop in was to confirm you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
When you crossed the threshold to your bedroom, you glanced around. There was no sign of JJ, and you even noted that your bed had been straightened. Heat flooded to your cheeks as you recalled what you’d been doing there just moments before, and one glance towards the cracked bathroom door had you wondering if JJ was in there. You knew he’d be smarter than that, and as you sat on your bed, you realized that you were facing your closet.
The door now closed where it had once been partially open.
“You could’ve let me know you were coming,” you told Rafe. “I just would’ve left the door unlocked.”
Your boyfriend softly chuckled to himself, and it didn’t exactly sound humorous.
“So, you could know when to expect me…?”
His eyes bore into yours as he said that, and you sighed.
You wondered if he’d ever get over that night you’d slept at John B.’s, and you rolled your eyes.
“I have a still healing leg, Rafe. I’m not going anywhere, something I’m sure you took into account when…”
Your words died in the air as Rafe’s face twitched, and you swallowed down the rest of what you were going to say. He made his way towards you, towering over you, and you shrank away from his gaze as he looked down his nose at you.
“…and I’d do it again if it kept you bedridden for months.”
You swallowed at that.
“It’d be worth it to know where you are at all times and having you ready and waiting for me.”
You looked away from him at that, pushing back tears.
“Did you come to make me feel like shit for not being able to go anywhere or…?”
When you looked at him again, he was rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.
“Believe it or not, baby, I did miss looking at you,” he murmured, reaching up to cup your chin. “You know I like falling asleep to this face every night.”
His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, and he bent down to kiss you. This kiss wasn’t as brief as the previous one, and you were forced to move your mouth against his. When he deepened it, his hand circled around your neck, and you flinched, but not because of his fingers on your throat.
There was a spot on your neck that felt more sensitive than the rest.
You knew what it was, and you were relieved the lights were off.
“God, I’d fuck you, right now if Top and Kelce weren’t downstairs waiting on me,” he sighed the moment he pulled away.
You glanced at your closet as his lips moved to your jaw and then your neck. Rafe struggled to pull himself away, and when he did, you leaned into the hand that was on your cheek. He brushed his thumb over the skin, studying your face.
“Sarah told me she came by the other day to check in on you,” he told you.
At the mention of Sarah—and the reminder of that conversation—you blinked.
“Uh…yeah, she did. She didn’t stay long,” you confirmed, and you watched Rafe frown at you.
“Did she say something to you?”
Now, you frowned.
“Like what…?”
When you gave him a questioning look, Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you. His thumb was still tracing circles into your skin, and you hated the way he drank you in. His blue eyes flitted over your features, taking in every shift, and by the time you evened out your expression, it was too late.
“You know I know you like an open book,” he said, making your shoulders sag. “Somethings bothering you.”
Yeah, the guy in your closet.
The reminder of that conversation about JJ forced you to unintentionally focus on the fact that the man in question was currently in your bedroom. It was a thought that made you want to throw up, and unfortunately, that wasn’t a feeling you were able to keep hiding. While impulsive, you knew JJ understood the severity of his and your current predicament and wouldn’t dare reveal himself. With that being said though, you couldn’t stomach the possibility of Rafe discovering him somehow.
However, that wasn’t the only thing bothering you, just what was currently bothering you, so a half truth spilled from your lips.
“She was just talking about…what happened at the hospital,” you slowly confessed.
The mention of the incident had Rafe’s jaw clenching, in turn also causing him to tighten his hold on your own face.
“Right,” he responded, tone clipped.
Rafe moved away from you, and you watched him poke at something on your dresser.
“JJ’s lucky my dad didn’t have him arrested,” you heard him sneer. “That Pogue is always looking for trouble.”
“I’m sure he just wanted to blame you, Rafe, that’s all.”
You heard your boyfriend scoff, and he shook his head. He turned around to face you, leaning back with his hands on your dresser as he stared you down.
“He probably has a little crush on you.”
His tone was mocking, and you raised your brows.
“He doesn’t know me,” you argued.
“He doesn’t need to. You talked…what…? Once?” he wondered, head tilted. “That’s more than enough for the likes of him.”
You remained silent.
“I mean, come on,” he dragged the word out. “You’re pretty, you’re rich, and you’re my girlfriend.”
Rafe softly laughed to himself.
“That last point alone is enough to have that Pogue wanting what he can’t have,” your boyfriend spat. “After all, why the fuck else would JJ Maybank of all people care if you fell down the stairs? Enough to want to fight me? He’s nothing to you.”
“Sarah and I aren’t exactly strangers, Rafe. She was worried, so it makes sense that he’d be worried too,” you shrugged.
Rafe pulled his lip between his teeth as he regarded you.
“So, that makes what he did okay?”
“No, I just think you’re trying to make it something it isn’t. JJ barely knows me, and what he does know is that I’m a spoiled Kook princess who’s dating Rafe Cameron. Call me crazy, but I don’t think I’m his type.”
What you were doing was the literal definition of gaslighting, and if Rafe wasn’t an abusive jerk, you might’ve felt bad about it.
“You’re the quickest way to get me to break his nose. You’re exactly his type.”
Rafe found himself funny, and you rolled your eyes, feeling uncomfortable with this conversation for obvious reasons. Your boyfriend decided that he’d kept Kelce and Topper waiting long enough, and when he approached you, you were prepared for the kiss. Rafe deeply inhaled when he pressed his lips to yours, hand resting on the back of your neck.
You made a slight noise of protest when his hold tightened.
When he pulled his lips away, he kept his nose touching yours, and his gaze was devoid of humor as he looked between your eyes.
“You should probably tell Sarah to watch her friend,” he whispered. “Next time he puts his hands on me, I just might break his neck. You think you can relay that?”
His thumb was painful against the front of your throat, and you gave him a shaky nod. You reached up to touch it when he roughly let you go, and he threw a comment over his shoulder as he left, telling you he might come back later to stay the night. Your fingers trembled against your skin, and you didn’t relax until you heard his truck start again.
The sound of it was gone completely when the closet door finally opened.
“I’m fine,” you breathed, JJ wasting no time and hurrying to kneel before you.
He turned on the lamp, and you hated how cold his eyes were as he inspected you.
“I told you, JJ, I’m fine,” you assured him, reaching for him.
His entire body was vibrating, and you knew it took everything he had to control himself.
“God, I hate him,” he breathed, pulling you into his arms.
You hugged him back, burying your face into his chest. You inhaled his scent, the smell and feel of him helping you calm down. Rafe’s presence had shaken the very atmosphere in the room, and you took deep breaths, JJ’s hands rubbing up and down your back.
“He said he might come back later,” you murmured.
“I know,” JJ exhaled. “I heard.”
“Maybe…maybe you should leave,” you said, looking up at him.
Rafe’s visit had spooked you, and you knew it was evident, but JJ didn’t seem as disturbed. A small smirk danced along his lips, and he brushed his hand over your cheek.
“Don’t worry,” he slowly leaned in, giving you a tentative kiss before deepening it. “I’ll be out of your room before he gets back.”
He kissed you again, and you shuddered when his hands slid along your thighs, dipping beneath your shirt.
“He insulted me…so now I really want to fuck his girlfriend,” he bit out against your lips, pushing you back and covering your frame with his own.
You couldn’t deny the effect those words had on you, hating how quickly your fear of Rafe started to fade at the sound of JJ’s playful tone.
“JJ,” you warned, but your tone was light, and he smiled into the kiss.
He tapped your right thigh, pushing your shirt up with his other hand, blue eyes glinting as he held your gaze.
Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, mentions of DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
➥ series masterlist
summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.
Your rescue just comes with a price.
⭑
“Okay,” the woman before you exhaled, looking at your paper work. “While broken, your nose should be much better in about three weeks.”
Rafe’s hand gently massaged your shoulders at that, standing at your side as the doctor gave you her final prognoses on your situation. Her dark eyes scanned the paper, humming to herself as she glanced at you. That particular action made your heart skip a beat, and you tried to ignore how nervous you felt. Rafe had done most of the talking—for obvious reasons—but you couldn’t forget how almost disbelieving she’d sounded when he told her what happened.
“I’d recommend icing it for about twenty minutes every 1-2 hours while awake, and I highly suggest taking some Ibuprofen while pain persists…”
Her words died in the air as she trailed off, a small sigh escaping as she flipped the paper.
“You’re going to experience some swelling and bruising for sure, but it’s that knee of yours I’m most concerned about.”
At that, she looked at you head on.
“You said you landed right on it?”
At your nod, she continued.
“I can’t imagine how fast you were falling to do this much damage. It’s definitely fractured,” she commented.
Your heart sank at that, and even though you’d long suspected this was more than just a bruised knee, you didn’t relish hearing it. You felt Rafe lean down, and you slowly blinked when he pressed his face into your hair, rubbing your arms in what you were sure was meant to be a soothing manner.
“What do we need to do?”
She lifted her gaze again at the sound of his voice, and you didn’t think you liked the way she looked at him.
“Rafe…right? You’re the boyfriend?” he nodded, and she spoke again. “We’ll be getting her a splint to hold her leg in place while the bone heals, and I’m making physical therapy mandatory.”
“Of course,” he said.
She looked at him for what felt like a long time before her eyes met yours again, much softer now.
“You’re going to need to stay off of it a lot, okay? We need to keep as much weight off of it as possible, and I’ll just go ahead and write you a prescription for Ibuprofen seeing as you’ll need it for both your nose and your knee.”
Just then Rafe’s phone vibrated, and you turned to look at him. He gently squeezed your arm as he looked at it, throwing you a small smile.
“Your parents are downstairs. I’m going to go get them,” he said, giving you a brief kiss on the lips. “Let me know what else she says.”
With one last final squeeze, he left you, and you weren’t stupid.
You knew it was a warning rather than comfort.
“It’s going to take about six weeks to heal. I’d personally even give it a week or two more just to be sure,” she continued once he was gone.
At your nod, she studied you, and with a sigh, she pressed her clipboard against her leg. You didn’t miss the way she glanced at the door, and you reached up before thinking better of it, tempted to touch your nose. You dropped your hand back into your lap.
“Your boyfriend said you fell…”
You nodded, swallowing.
“Yeah, I… I wasn’t paying attention,” you gave a bitter chuckle. “The stairs in his house are insane.”
She gave a slow nod.
“So, this happened at his house?”
“Yes.”
Her face was unreadable, and you watched the way she pursed her lips.
“…and where was he when this happened?”
You didn’t like her questions, nor the tone in her voice, and considering you were already on medication, the last thing you needed was to let something slip. You recalled Rafe’s harsh grip on your face just before answering the door for the EMTs, the way he’d sneered at you to behave. After all, this was your fault somehow, a mess you’d gotten yourself into, and he was going to be the one to clean it up.
“The bathroom. I thought he told you that…”
Her smile was slow.
“He did,” she confirmed. “I just wanted to rehash things, understand exactly what happened.”
At your slight frown, she continued, albeit reluctantly.
“We just don’t normally see these kinds of injuries with someone who fell down the stairs,” she admitted to you, and your heart sank. “The knee…sure…I suppose, but the broken nose…”
She hummed to herself.
“It’s a head on injury. Like something came straight at it.”
The silence between you was thick, and you forced yourself to speak.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but…that’s what happened,” you assured her.
You didn’t miss the slight way in which her face fell, and she glanced at the door again.
“Rafe Cameron… Is it safe to assume he’s Ward Cameron’s son?”
Your silence was answer enough, and before she could say anything else, you heard the man in question’s voice coming down the hall, your parents’ mixed within.
Your mother was ever dramatic, rushing to your side and almost touching your face before thinking better of it. You assured her you were fine, hating the tears in her eyes. Your father seemed just as worried, but he handled it better, only turning to the doctor to ask her everything he wanted an answer to. Your mother pressed her lips to your forehead, sniffling.
“Sweetheart, just what were you looking at to pay so little attention to where you were going, huh?”
It seemed more of a rhetorical question as she kissed your forehead again, going on about getting you home as soon as possible. You heard your father talking to the doctor about a wheelchair, and you glanced over just as Rafe came to stand by your bed again. His hand was gentle on your back.
“I’ll come over as soon as everything is finished up here. She doesn’t need to be on her feet, at all,” he said to her. “I already feel bad enough that I wasn’t around when it happened.”
“Oh hush, Rafe,” she told him, briefly pulling him into a hug. “You’re always looking after her, such a knight in shining armor, but you couldn’t have prevented this. Let’s just be glad it’s not much worse.”
She smiled at you, touching your chin, and you gave her a small one back.
When she looked away to join in on the conversation with your father and the doctor, Rafe’s hand slid up towards your neck. His fingers pressed into the skin, and a shudder crawled down your spine just as you heard him softly exhale. When you glanced up at him, those baby blues of his were already focused on you, and you blinked as he leaned in.
Mindful of your nose, he pressed a gentle kiss against your lips.
“Oh, God.”
That was the first thing Sarah said as Rafe rolled you into the hallway.
You were wide-eyed at the sight before you, lips parting in both shock and apprehension. You weren’t surprised to see Ward waiting, even if the sight of him did make your stomach twist. Rafe—and his home—were involved, after all, so you expected the oldest Cameron to show up at the hospital too. You hadn’t expected, however, Sarah and her friends to be waiting with him. Even the sight of Kie stumped you, but not as much as the sight of JJ.
You hadn’t seen him—talked to him—since that night.
…and your heart both sank and soared.
You were too preoccupied with the sight of his troubled eyes to pay attention to the noise going on around you. Ward and Sarah were asking Rafe all kinds of questions while John B., Pope, Kie, and Cleo were fussing over you. You absentmindedly answered their questions, telling them you were fine, but the entire time you couldn’t look away from the blond.
You didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched as he ran his gaze over you, eyes hardening as he took in your bruised face and the splint on your leg. JJ, so unlike himself, was deathly silent, and no one seemed to notice but you. When his eyes met yours again, they softened a tad, his face falling, and you forced yourself to look away when you felt Rafe’s hands come down on your wheelchair again.
“I know, dad, but her parents are downstairs pulling the car around, and then I’m heading over there,” you heard him say from above you.
When you glanced over your shoulder, you noted the stony look on Ward’s face as he and Rafe stared each other down. You didn’t need to be a genius to guess what the tension was about, and you wondered why Ward ever thought that Rafe would care about treating you better. Especially when he knew you’d never leave him, and his daddy would be there to cover his ass every time.
Just then the older man fixed his gaze on you, face not so taught now.
“How are you feeling?”
You didn’t answer him right away, and at your silence, he at least had the gall to look sheepish.
“Fine,” you eventually said, just loud enough for him to hear, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about the guilt that passed through his eyes.
You looked away from him before he could respond, and you only smiled at Sarah when she told you she’d drop by later to check on you. The tension between Rafe and the rest of her friends was palpable, and you recalled the last time he’d even been almost this close to any of them—the night you’d fallen asleep at John B.’s place. It was an awkward situation seeing as they didn’t like him, and he definitely didn’t like any of them.
Just as Rafe pushed you past them, you heard the last voice you expected.
“Did you do this?”
Your heart dropped at those words, and both you and Rafe turned around in shock. Well, you did as best as you could in a wheelchair, anyway. You struggled to look around Rafe, but even if you couldn’t manage to, JJ’s voice was as clear as day. Your eyes were wide and disbelieving as you stared at JJ, but he wasn’t looking at you, at all.
His eyes were colder than you’d ever seen them—so unlike his normal easygoing self—and the short-sleeved shirt he wore showed the tightening of his arms at his side. You were sure you’d never seen JJ this angry, not even after the night Rafe had raped you for lying about going to John B.’s. The younger blonde’s lip was curled over his teeth as he stared your boyfriend down, and you reached out to touch Rafe’s arm just as he stepped away from you.
That didn’t go unnoticed by JJ.
“Are you asking me did I do this to my girlfriend?” your boyfriend slowly wondered, an edge in his voice.
“JJ, what the hell?” Sarah wondered, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.
JJ shook her hand off as she reached for him, moving towards Rafe.
Your attempt to stand only resulted in pain shooting through your leg.
“Yeah, I am…because I’m looking at her nose, and I’m thinking to myself ‘she got that from falling down the stairs’?” he scoffed. “You’re a piece of shit!”
You gripped the back of your chair as JJ shoved Rafe, forcing everyone else to jump into action as the severity of JJ’s anger became clear. Pope wasn’t enough to stop his friend from hitting Rafe, and you felt frozen as Ward hurried to hold Rafe back as he started to do the same.
“Hey, hey,” Ward screamed, grabbing the attention of other hospital personnel. “Get yourself together!”
Rafe struggled to listen to him, his angry gaze focused on JJ as Pope and John B. pulled the other blond back.
“I know you did this,” he spat, his voice echoing in the hall. “You’re such an asshole to her, and we’re just supposed to believe this bullshit?”
You felt helpless as you looked between them, feeling at fault. JJ only suspected the truth because he knew the true nature of your relationship with Rafe. If you’d never told him, he wouldn’t be so invested and bold in his accusations, and they wouldn’t be currently yelling at each other in the hospital. You swallowed, hating how upset JJ was.
By now, hospital staff as well as a security guard had joined you, and Ward was angrily conversing with them as he pushed Rafe to take you and go. JJ was still trying to get to him even as the security guard was threatening to arrest him, and as much as you didn’t want to, you reluctantly forced yourself to turn away.
However, that wasn’t before you noted the way Sarah looked between JJ and Rafe…and then finally you.
Your gaze was focused on your lap as Rafe angrily pushed you down the hall and farther from JJ. You could still hear the commotion from the other blond, and you fiddled with your fingers. Your heart felt like it was in your throat as Rafe pushed you along, a loud rush in your ears that was replaced by Rafe’s voice the moment you were truly alone.
“Why the fuck would he say that?”
Rafe had stopped pushing you, and when you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you. The look on his face was thunderous, and you leaned back some just as he started to lean in. His arm twitched, like he was seconds away from grabbing you, but he clearly decided against it, and you suspected it had something to do with the cameras.
“Why the fuck would he say that?” he quietly repeated, slower this time, and you swallowed.
“I don’t… Rafe, I don’t know.”
Your heart was threatening to leap from your chest, and your boyfriend sneered at you.
“You and JJ aren’t even friends…and all of a sudden he’s accusing me of hurting you?” Rafe tilted his head to the side with a scoff. “You see how strange that looks to me, right?”
“Rafe, I don’t talk to JJ. I don’t know why he would say that, I mean…”
You scrambled for something to tell him.
“You know how much he hates you,” you lazily threw your hand up. “You’re surprised that he would accuse you of hurting me?”
Rafe’s nostrils flared as he stared at you, looking between your eyes. You could tell that he was seriously considering that possibility, their rivalry and animosity towards each other no secret. When he reached up to touch your chin, you flinched, slowly blinking as he brushed his thumb along your skin.
“JJ’s always trying to start something with you, isn’t he?” you quietly wondered, and Rafe eventually hummed in agreement. “It’s not like anyone will believe him, anyway.”
You tried to ignore the memory of Sarah looking between you three in that hallway as Rafe finally nodded. His expression was unreadable, but he seemed convinced enough, and you didn’t allow yourself to relax until he was meeting your parents at their car.
Rafe had pulled out of the driveway all of five minutes ago when a figure at your window was pulling it open.
Even if he hadn’t been texting you nonstop since you left the hospital, you expected it. The scene JJ had caused was on repeat in your mind, and it was hard to make sense of all the emotions you felt. On the one hand, it warmed your heart that he cared so much, but his boldness to stand up to Rafe—especially so publicly—worried you. It was like JJ hadn’t considered the ramifications of his actions and how they could possibly come back on you.
Not to mention, you still hadn’t quite sorted out how you felt about the last time you were alone with him.
With that being said though, in the wake of recent events, you found yourself pushing that to the back of your mind for the time being. You felt that was something you could figure out later because with one look at the blond as he slipped through your window frame, you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. JJ was now the one person you could be completely vulnerable with. You didn’t have anyone else, and the day’s events came crashing down on you.
You smiled in the face of that doctor—even your own parents—and lied about what happened to you. You’d had to welcome Rafe’s touch, accept comfort from the same hands that had done this to you. Recalling the way your mother had expressed appreciation for your boyfriend made your stomach turn, and when JJ quickly approached you, you let him take your face into his hands.
“I fucking knew it,” he murmured, pressing his face into your hair. “I knew it.”
You wanted to tell him what an idiot he was to make a scene like that, but you couldn’t manage to stop crying. You reached up to rest your hands on his forearms, sobbing against him as you pressed your forehead to his chest. Your entire frame shook, and you fought to get yourself together, knowing that Rafe wouldn’t be gone that long.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” you managed to say, pulling away and looking at him.
JJ at least looked sheepish, and if you knew him as well as you liked to think you did, then you knew he regretted it almost as soon as you’d left. His own blue eyes shined as he looked at you, and you watched him struggle to swallow.
“I know,” he quietly admitted. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
He gently grazed your cheek, looking over your face.
“I just… When I saw you? I wanted to be sick,” he told you. “I wanted to bash his face in…because I knew he did it.”
You looked down at that.
“I was really scared, JJ,” you confessed, voice almost inaudible. “He threw me, and…and I couldn’t stop falling.”
More tears fell.
“I was really scared,” you tearfully choked out.
He pulled you into his arms again, cheek resting against his shoulder, and your lashes fluttered at the way his hands fell from around you in search of your own. His fingers intertwined with yours, and your conflicting emotions about JJ reared their ugly heads again.
He was kind to you and fiercely protective, and he wasn’t afraid to stand up to Rafe, but the night in which you’d slept with him was so confusing. You’d been drunk and upset—because of Rafe—and JJ hadn’t exactly listened to any of your protests…but he was so kind to you. You could’ve tried harder to make him see you hadn’t been quite ready for that, this was true, but was that supposed to be on you? He hadn’t listened…
…but he was so kind to you.
It was the first time you’d had sex with anyone without being afraid, and surely that had to count for something. The whole thing could’ve used better communication, but you certainly didn’t feel the same by the end of the night. In fact, you’d happily pulled him closer and was eager to feel him inside of you again. By the end of that night, you’d wanted him just as much as he wanted you.
It’d started off weird…but JJ was no Rafe.
Your first time with Rafe wasn’t even comparable to your first time with the blond that was currently holding you. JJ made you feel safe, and maybe it was like he’d said before. Maybe your relationship with Rafe just made you scared to do anything for yourself, scared to let yourself be loved properly.
“Where did he go?” he wondered after some time.
“Home,” you whispered. “Ward’s mad at him.”
When you pulled away to look at JJ, there was a slight frown on his face at that.
“Ward knows Rafe did this, and…he’d promised to be better. He-.”
“…is an idiot for thinking Rafe would actually treat you right. He’s just as bad as his psycho son,” JJ scoffed.
You didn’t argue with JJ on that, and when you looked at him again, he was running his eyes along your nose and the surrounding area. You couldn’t decipher all of the emotions on his face, but you could tell that he was sad, and he closed his eyes before turning away.
“I hate him.”
Sometimes you hated him too.
Mostly, you were just scared of him.
“They gave you some medication for it, right?” he wondered, looking at your nose again before briefly glancing at your knee.
“Yeah,” you told him. “They said my nose will take three weeks and my knee will take at least six.”
“Jesus,” you heard him murmur as he glanced away, jaw tight. “I don’t get how he can do that to you.”
His hand tightened on yours when he met your gaze again. His fair hair was going every which way, some hanging onto his forehead, and his blue eyes sparkled in the light of your bedroom. JJ looked so sad and beautiful as he gazed at you.
“You’re…you’re probably the sweetest girl I’ve ever met,” he quietly admitted. “…and I don’t get how he can look at you and want to hit you and shove you and make you bleed.”
One of his hands was resting on your cheek, now, mindful of the bruising.
“I don’t understand how he can know you and be so mean to you.”
You looked down at that.
“I wish I could lock you away and protect you from the world,” JJ said, more to himself than you, and when you looked up, your gaze fell to his lips as he leaned in.
The kiss could barely be called that, and when he pulled away, guilt settled in your chest.
“I’m sorry,” you eventually said, continuing at his look of confusion. “…for…ignoring you after that night.”
Understanding settled over his features.
“I was really confused,” you shakily breathed. “About…well…everything.”
“It’s okay-.”
“I’m still confused,” you hurried to add. “I don’t know what I genuinely don’t want or what I’m just afraid to want.”
Your words came out slow, fighting to understand your own mind.
“…and part of me feels like I’m doing something horrible to Rafe even though I know that isn’t true,” you tearfully continued. “I know that nothing I do will ever compare to what he’s done to me, but I feel so horrible.”
JJ wiped your face as best as he could, shushing you, but you shook your head.
“…and I know…”
A feeling of dread weighed you down, a chill gliding down your spine as your next words settled on your tongue.
“I know that if he ever found out about us…he’d kill me,” JJ shook his head at your words, wanting you to stop talking. “It’s true, I know it’s true…”
“Don’t say that,” he said, taking your face into his hands.
“He would, JJ,” you dazedly whispered, recalling that day in his truck and the night of his birthday and the day you called the cops. “Rafe would strangle me without even thinking about it-.”
“Y/N, stop. Don’t think like that,” JJ gently shook you.
“…but you make me really happy,” you tearfully told him, looking into his eyes. “I’m happy when I’m with you and…”
You looked between his eyes.
“…and sometimes…sometimes I think it’d be worth it,” you murmured.
JJ was standing, now, making you keep your eyes on him.
“That’s not happening. Do you understand me?” he continued at your silence. “I won’t let him do that to you. He’s not taking you away from me.”
More tears spilled over because there was no way to guarantee that. Even if you and JJ stopped this, right now, there was still a chance Rafe could go too far one day and just…kill you. It was something that was always in the back of your mind, even when you tried your best to keep him happy with you.
JJ pressed his forehead to yours, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs.
“Don’t you wanna be with me? Huh?” he breathed. “Don’t you want to go on dates with me and hang out with my friends and hold my hand out in the open?”
You gave a trembling nod.
“Okay,” he shakily exhaled. “Okay, so don’t…don’t say things like that.”
JJ knelt before you, looking up at you and wiping your tears.
“You’re going to be fine,” he assured you. “I’d kill him before he ever killed you. Do you understand me?”
Again, you nodded.
Standing, he pulled you against him, burying his face into your hair and running his hand along your back.
“He’s not taking you away from me. That I can promise you…”
Your lashes fluttered as JJ massaged your scalp, and the conviction in his voice made you want to believe him.
Last song I listened to: Mirela by Mirela Pachou (currently listening to it actually)
Currently watching: a lot of stuff but I guess mainly Egklimata
Currently obsessed with: probably hazbin hotel
Tagging: @geolato @instantpansies @anxiety-cheese @newtness532 @el-loves-writing @iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife ... I don't remember any other urls rn😅
Currently Watching: Nothing rn, I just finished Helluva Boss and I’m probably gonna watch Revolutionary Girl Utena next though
Currently Obsessed With: Tokyo Ghoul
Tags (no pressure!): @video-killed-the-radio--star @hazycae @just-another-tokyo-ghoul-fan @backgroundcharacterno15 @uriekukistan @thornofarose01 and anyone else who wants to join :>
Currently obsessed with: Tokyo Ghoul and Persona 3
Tags: @unsatisfiedgourmet @juuheizou @opalsthirdeye @holyhounddog @canadianlucifer @uriekukistan @tg-headcanons @t0ky0ghoul @xphntmhvx (y'all know the drill, only if u wanna!!)
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
kaledo-art
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
2087
vaporwave
