JUnderTheBatSignal

You're in Gotham in tonight's dream. The old Gotham, of course. Before any bastard undead creatures could suck the life out of your city. Before Dick Grayson haunted your dreams. 

You're on a rooftop ledge, legs dangling. You stare at the harbor. The city's wet from the rain and alive. So alive. You start to cry. 

"Oh, honey," he says, and you cry harder because he sounds exactly like the Dick you knew. 

He keeps his distance, sitting a few feet away. You refuse to look at him, because this is exactly how he gets you to miss him. Dick makes a soft noise when you scrub at your face.

"Have you been eating enough?" he asks, and he almost sounds tender. But you know better. "I'll track down a produce shipment, tell my men to intercept the boat for you."

"Fuck you," you say. "I don't take food out of people's mouths."

Dick edges closer. He feels big in your dreams, looming over you. 

"You wouldn't take food out of anyone's mouth. There's no longer a faction on the planet that requires all that food." 

Because the vampires have all but wiped humans out. You snarl. 

"Why can't you leave me alone?" you snap. "I know you're cruel, but the least you could do is let me dream in peace."

"Have I been cruel to you? I don't mean to be, sweetheart. I visit to check on you."

"Bullshit, Dick." Saying his name makes you shake. "You visit to manipulate me. I'm not going to give up my location, I'm not going to turn against my team, and I'm definitely never going to be your queen."

Dick is next to you on the roof ledge, now. He leans in and you stiffen at his eyes. You still aren't used to the absence of blue.

"Of course not. I wouldn't make you do anything you don't want to," he says, hand slipping across your jaw. You immediately slap him away. He makes a displeased sound. 

"Why don't you find someone else to manipulate? I'm sure you've got countless minions who'd leap at the chance to be with you for eternity." 

"I don't want anyone else," he murmurs. "I've thought of nothing but you since we parted. I wish you hadn't run, my love. Things would be better if we were together, you’d see.”

"Hah. You used to be so much better at compartmentalizing, Grayson. Guess vampires aren't so good at controlling their own desires."

He laughs, tosses his head back. His fangs glint. Dick's smile is deceiving; underneath the charm, there's unimaginable power. Vampirism has treated him well: he's always filled out, lean with muscle, carrying an easy strength everywhere he goes. 

You, on the other hand, suffer from poor nutrition. You didn't sleep well before this mess; now, it's nearly impossible. 

(Except when Dick visits, you feel rested the next morning. You'd never admit such a thing to anybody, but it's the truth.) 

"Oh, sweetheart, but why would I bother controlling my desires now? There's no one stopping me from having what I want."

You stew in silence, turning away from him. Dick sighs. 

"What do you want, hm? Tell me. I'll give you anything." 

"I want you to free every human you're holding captive," you say. "And I want you and your people to stop this war."

"Such a golden heart," Dick says. "That's what I love about you. Always so good."

"You used to be good too," you shoot back bitterly. 

"No, I used to be obedient. There's a difference. I used to be Bruce's little, golden cow."

“He treated you well.”

“When I fell in line,” he says.

You fall quiet again. Dick scoots closer. You scoot away. 

"You know I've already let a few of the humans go. For you, honey. As a sign of goodwill. I'm not totally heartless, you know."

You roll your eyes. 

"Right. Well, us cattle don't find it merciful when we're sent out on our own to die, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't thank Your Highness on my knees."

"You are not cattle," Dick says fiercely. "Don't talk about yourself that way."

"My life is no less human and no more important than theirs," you say, temper flaring. "So, yes, I am."

"That's—"

You fall off the roof before he can say any more. Your stomach swoops similarly to how it would if you were awake. But then the stars bleed into the skyline, and there's a flash of golden light. 

And now you're in a bedroom. It's not one you recognize, richly decorated with golden accents and silk sheets and curtains. You'd almost mistake it for a room at Wayne Manor. 

"Now this is much better, don't you think? You're wearing my favorite color."

You look down and see that your pajamas have been swapped for a long, blood red, chiffon nightgown. It hugs every curve and dip of your body, the sleeves and collar trimmed in soft fur. The neckline is somewhat modest, but the fabric is totally see-through past your thighs. 

It's something a queen would wear. 

"Beautiful," Dick murmurs, voice rough. "Fuck, honey. This is the sort of thing you should wear all the time."

"Change me back," you demand. "I am not a doll for you to dress up, Dick."

"No, of course you're not. This is just a taste of how you'd live if you were with me, my love."

"I will never live with you. I'd rather die."

Dick hums, then draws closer. You back up until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He prowls further, eyes sharp like he's hunting prey. Your pulse quickens and you have to remind yourself that this is just a dream. 

"What happened to us?" he asks softly. "I know that, at one point, you loved me."

"Yeah, that was before you turned into a monster. I loved a man." 

"I'm no more monster than any of the men you've known," Dick says. 

You scoff. "God, where'd you get that one? Jason?"

Dick smiles, and it almost looks human. "No, that was a Grayson original. And it's true. Man has never been good. You don't like me because now I drink a little blood?"

"I don't like you because you used to be good, and now you're not."

He hums. "I'm not all bad, my love. I can be subdued, tamed. You want me to be tame? I can be good for you. I can give you anything your heart desires. Our wants are the same.”

Dick eases you backwards onto the bed. You shouldn’t let him. Shouldn’t like the cold press of undead flesh against your heat. Shouldn’t like how he holds you, how convincing he sounds. You know your wants aren’t the same, that Dick is playing you, and you’re being easy.

But… but it's not like you'll ever see him for real again. No one will know. 

And God, it's been so long since anyone touched you. You pined for this, what seems like forever ago. Dick Grayson wanting you had felt impossible, until it wasn't… but by then, he'd become the very thing you'd sworn to hate. 

"This–” You swallow. “This isn’t right.” 

But your legs part for him to kneel between. 

"Tell me to stop and I will. I serve you first."

Dick hovers over you, hands planted on either side of your head. You're getting wet. You ache in more ways than one. 

"This is cruel," you whine.

"I don’t mean to be cruel,” he says gently. “Do you want me to stop, my love? My beautiful queen, who hasn’t been touched in so long. You’ve needed me, haven’t you?”

“Not–not your queen,” you say, panting, but you let him in, let him settle above you. 

“If you say so, my love," he says, nuzzling your neck. You tense even though he can't actually bite you. 

His fingers thread with yours. The position is unbearably intimate. You’d forgotten how romantic Dick was. How loving. Briefly, you wonder if he kept that through the shift.

It’s impossible, you insist as he kisses your jaw.

"You're a dream in red," he purrs. "I might prefer it to you in blue, but it's a close call."

"Your ego is ridiculous," you say, and Dick unlinks one hand to pet the apex of your thighs with two fingers. You're still clothed, and you're still dreaming, but the heat and pressure and slick feel so real. 

"The sounds you're making certainly don’t keep my ego in check," Dick says with a proud grin, fangs on display. 

Then he rips your underwear off, ducks between your legs, and licks you until you cry. 

You arch off the bed, and even in the dream, his strength is easy, one hand keeping you pressed to the bed. Dick pushes one of your legs up to get a deeper angle, moaning into your cunt. Your leg goes up easily even though in real life, it would pinch. You’re not as flexible as he is.

"Dickie," you cry, tears slipping down your cheeks because it's so good, it feels real, you wish this was real, wish you had him back. 

He nips your thighs, groans into your sex. Dick ruts the mattress, the first loss of control he's shown. It makes you wetter, knowing that he's so gone for you. It's sick to like such a thing, but you never stopped loving him, not really. You can't seem to reckon the man from the monster. 

You come hard on his tongue, and he keeps licking until you push him away. 

"You haven't been touched in ages, I bet," he says, lips shiny with your arousal. His eyes are a brighter red. His chest heaves. He looks hungrier than before he started.

"Been a bit busy,” you say when your brain comes back online. “End of humanity and all that."

His eyes go soft. You hate that he can still make that look. 

"Why are you so stubborn? Why won't you let me take care of you? You belong at my side."

You scowl. "I don't belong anywhere, Dick. Certainly nowhere near you."

His eyes glitter and he grabs you by your hips and kisses you. You let him, because you're absolutely pathetic and because you haven't been touched in ages.

Dick laughs against your mouth and peppers kisses on your throat before pulling away. 

"I'll send your team food. They won't even know it's me," he says, half-lidded. "My beloved queen. You'll never starve. I didn't know it was so bad."

"I am not your queen and I don't need your charity. In fact, you know what? I'm waking up. Right now."

Dick smiles, and kisses your hand. Then he gets off of the bed, and fixes his collar. He must be aching in his slacks, dream or not, but he straightens up like he has all the time in the world to fuck you. Like he knows you’ll be back.

"Of course, my love. Whatever you want. Till next time."

The dream fades from a golden bedroom to your dark, tiny hole of a room you've camped in for a few months. 

You turn your head and look at the clock. It's still late. 

Your thighs ache. Your mouth tingles where he kissed you. 

love island!dick that has to remember to close his mouth once you step out to your entrance song. the skirt does little to hide the bottom curve of your ass. and his eyes are stuck to the mark he left the night before, right in the crevice where your thigh meets the cheek. he's not one to shy away from challenges and doesn't think of these guys as competition. he knows you're his and he's yours, so when you start climbing onto the lap of one of his close friends, he doesn't think to much of it.

you move your body in such a hypnotic way, it has the guys screaming and cheering each other one when you give them a lap dance, or even a teasing kiss on their neck. they know better than to take it too far with you, so the most you're getting are squeezes on your thighs and hips. you've been whispering things like "can you help me warmup in the locker room?" and "i've got the pom poms, but you're that one that will be shaking tonight" as you move around the fire pit.

when you finally reach love island!dick, he's spread his legs enough to accommodate you, and lets his lips break out into a big smile. you're basically bouncing on your feet from how excited you are to finally get to him. "lets see if you can handle my routine" you whisper in his ear. fully moving your body onto his lap and placing his hands on your waist. you're moving your hips back and forth, letting your core sit directly on his growing tent. once he brings his lips to yours, you feel his tongue caress yours before letting out a groan and forcefully grabbing your neck, effectively deepening the kiss.

when you finally break apart, his cheeks have a red flush and his eyes are looking at you like he's at your mercy. and to tease him even more, you lift your small top up to reveal a matching bra. getting a handful of his hair, you grab his head and place it in between your tits, letting him bite and lick however he pleases.

your routine has finally come to an end, and when you regroup in the middle of the fire pit with a small shake of your pom poms, you call out "i was here to boost morale, but from the looks of it, i got something else up too!" pointing to dick covering his very obvious problem. you walk up to the terrace, hearing the cheers from the guys as they pat dick on the back and chant your name.

all the girls have gone and your heart isn't in your ass anymore from your nerve wracking performance. you've all been directed to take your spots on the couch while they set up the heart monitors on your wrist.

the boys have gone and went, some standing out more than others, and you will admit hal looked really good in his gladiator outfit and wally in his cowboy getup, but none of them have been the one you're waiting for. they've made out with you, grabbed your hands to caress their abs while the girls have screamed in encouragement, but your heart beats in excitement the moment you count all the ones that have had their turn and notice its time for the last guy to go.

it seems that the other girls have noticed too, as they give you sly looks and rubs to your thighs in encouragement for what's to come.

he comes out in a pair of shorts that leave little to the imagination. it has a pair of suspenders that look as if they're about to burst from the way they stretch over his thick chest. and to top it all off, he has a bright red hat sitting on the top of his head saying "fire fighter" with some made up county name under it. the deep timber in his voice after he says, "no fire alarm can handle this amount of heat" is enough to have you squeezing your thighs together.

as he makes his way around the circle of girls, love island!dick is very respectful. he lets their hands roam his chests, lets them grab onto his pecs and thick thighs but makes sure he leaves them wanting more. it's safe to say, he knows how to leave a girl desperate for a taste. and when he finally gets to you, everyone knows what's coming. the cheers from the boys at the terrace and the girls around you blur, and he fully consumes you. he's lifting you from your seat and wrapping your legs around his waist.

"think she's a little hot, i might need to get her wet" he teases as he's slowly moving your body in time with his grinds. in a blur of kisses, you both have made it to the floor. your thighs burning from the stretch of straddling his lap, as you move to grab his firefighter helmet and place it on top of your head. he's licking any surface he can reach, running his tongue from your neck to the spot right below you ear that makes you weak. you're so lost in each other, you forget about those around you and let him move you in any way he wants. rough hands reaching under your cheer skirt and grabbing at your ass, moving you back and forth on his shorts, you sliding his suspenders off of his shoulders and you drag your nails across his back. its just so easy to get lost in his kisses, he leaves you chasing his mouth any time he pulls away. when he's finally satisfied with his performance, he pulls you up to your feet and laughs at the fucked out look that adorned your face. your hairs a mess, the helmet is tilted on your head and your have a lazy smile on your face.

"it seems like i'm fully equipped to handle any emergency, ladies" with a cheeky smile he walks up to the terrace where he's cheered on by the rest of guys and share laughs and they watch the wobble in your legs walking back to the couch.

it takes a few minutes but when the producers have all of the results, they gather everyone together and have an islander read it off of their phone. "the girl that rose the most heart rates is....." and with a drumroll, they announce your name. laughing with the others and squeezing dick's hand that was resting on your thigh, you feel a sort of accomplishment as you lean into his chest. now for the boys, they do a similar announcement and reveal that dick also raised most of the girls heart rates.

getting congratulations and cheers from the other couples, the celebration is cut short when love island!dick gets a text.

"as the winning couple, you guys get the spend the night all to yourselves in the hideaway! #tensions are high #get your naughty on #claim your girl" and all you can do is share a look with love island!dick before chaos ensues.

You were up on your feet before you knew it, his large shirt on you pooling around your naked legs as you stared at him, the way he briefly oriented himself around the room, then spun around to face you.

In the blink of an eye, both of you rushed forward and you were lifted effortlessly into the air, both of your legs coming to wrap around his waist as he held you close. You let out a happy laugh near his ear, his arms tightening their hold around you as his hands roamed over you, touching everywhere at once.

“Fuck, how I missed that laugh.” Garrick mumbled deeply, his free hand cupping your cheek and making you look at him. You smiled brightly, placing your hand over his and drinking in the sight of him. Unharmed. Love swirling fiercely in his captivating eyes.

He was home.

You bridged the distance between him and you, kissing him slowly and with relish. Knowing Garrick, these kinds of kisses soon wouldn’t do anymore, at least not to sate the bottomless need inside of him.

He tilted his head to the side, hand sliding into your hair as he snaked his other arm around you. With a small gasp, you came to stand on your tiptoes, busy touching his biceps, his strong shoulders and neck…

Without breaking the kiss, Garrick walked over to the edge of the bed, his tongue licking fire into your mouth as he sat down with you and let his hands travel over your naked thighs. You let out a small sound at the sudden closeness before willing yourself to break away for just a moment.

He stared back at you with heavy breath and half-lidded eyes, his usually pale cheeks now getting some lovely color because of you.

“Everything went okay?” You asked quietly, shuffling forward in his lap so your chests pressed against each other, hearts starting to messily beat in sync once more.

Garrick nodded, tucking back a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand staying on your cheek. “We all couldn’t get back fast enough though.”

You caressed down his muscles as they flexed instinctively underneath your tender touch. Your eyes stayed on his, drowning in the warm hazel tone and the fire burning behind it. As your lips parted with a relieved sigh when he splayed his big hands over your hips now, Garrick tugged you even closer against the heat of his body. His scar, so familiar in the way it ran down his temple and vanished at his stoic jaw, shined silverly, the healed tissue soft and rough at once under your fingertips.

You examined him quietly, counting his exhales and the seconds where more of his patience dissolved into thin air as he did sometimes. No bruises or cuts. He was alright. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the tension having followed you for days making its leave as well.

“I’m okay.” He mumbled under his breath, not missing anything. His thumb brushed over your cheek and the gesture was so loving in this time of unease, it nearly made you cry right then.

But you had missed him, desired him when it became dark outside and the mattress beside you was still empty, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“I missed you.” You confessed under your breath, a hungering something in your stomach curling itself tight. “I hate sleeping alone.”

“You don’t have to for a long while, trust me.” Garrick promised confidently and then you were kissing again, all softness from earlier forgotten as he nearly devoured you, needing to familiarize himself again with the feel of your soft lips, the taste of you.

You wound your arms around his strong neck and bucked your hips forward only to make him groan when your core brushed right over his hardness. Fuck.

“You don’t smell like me anymore.” He stated between hurried kisses, his tongue licking over the sensitive spot underneath your ear, making you arch against his tall form. Garrick always knew how to make you melt in just a couple of moments and his impatient nature was only intensifying the need, especially after you had been separated for so long.

You looked at him, a little out of breath, and slowly leaned forward to playfully nip at his bottom lip with your teeth. Not breaking eye-contact, you whispered: “You should change that, Lieutenant.”

He was on you in a split second.

He quickly rose with you in his arms, spinning around and then falling onto the sheets with you. Letting out a squeal at the sudden movement, you had no time to recover as he slid above you and kissed you hard, biting down on your plump bottom lip and pushing his hips forward. The warm riding leathers rubbed over your panties and you groaned. As hot as this was, you needed something else. Something only he could give you.

“Too many clothes.” You gasped against his lips and he hummed in agreement and switched to kissing down your neck, soothingly sucking at your favorite spot all your friends would soon tease you about. “Get the fuck naked, Tavis.”

Sometimes you wondered if his signet came with the power of unnatural speed as well, because within under a minute by far, Garrick had torn away your clothes entirely, leaving you wanting and naked on the bed before him, his eyes travelling lazily over your body as if he suddenly had all the time in the world again.

Lifting his shirt over his head, Garrick took a deep breath as the muscles in his stomach flexed. He was hard through his briefs and subconsciously, you licked your lips.

“Show me.” He said quietly and you spread your legs, presenting the evidence of your desire to him, your hunger a roaring pit in your stomach as you felt yourself drip onto the sheets for him. Your own company hadn’t been enough to fill the hole he left behind when he had to leave.

Garrick slowly licked his lips, eyes staying on your pussy as he crawled forward and finally got rid of his shirt. When he pulled down his briefs, your breath hitched, enticed by his hard dick springing against his abs, deliciously leaking at the tip.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered in awe of you and you beamed at the praise, your back arching into his touch as he drew a circle around your belly button, slowly travelling down… “So fucking wet for me, hm?”

As if to prove his point, he gently pressed your thighs further apart, breathing heavily as he let a trail of spit fall down on your folds, the sudden contact making a nerve in your calf twitch. Finally.

The first touch of his fingertips against your clit set you aflame.

Your hands fisted the sheets, your entire body suddenly helpless underneath his touch as he began to draw slow, wet circles on your most sensitive part, the friction so heavenly you could not help but throw your head back and gasp for air.

“Eyes on me, love.” Garrick commanded calmly and you obeyed, every cell in your body needing to please him, to be loved and adored by him.

A needy whimper left your lips as he kept rubbing you and you writhed against the bedding, willing to let him play with you however he wanted if you only got to come soon, or even better -  have him inside of you again. He bit his lip, an approving rumble going through his chest as you bucked your hips into his touch.

“Garrick…” You breathed longingly as he fisted his weeping cock, his thumb stroking your clit in adoration as his other fingers swept through your wetness. “Please.”

“Shh, just a moment longer.” He said, transfixed and uncharacteristically patient as he slowly eased a finger inside of your hot pussy, the tightness and warmth of your walls making his dick twitch. You reached out in an attempt to jerk him off, but midair you froze and you nearly forgot yourself as he suddenly curled his digit upwards.

“Have you touched yourself while I was gone?” He asked curiously and you almost managed to roll your eyes on him before the first was quickly joined by another finger and you groaned at the pleasurepain of it.

“Have you?” You managed to bite back, instantly rewarded by his beautiful low laughter.

“Baby…” His thumb brushed over your sensitive folds and clit, the other hand soothingly stroking your thighs. “Just about every night, you know?”

Gods, how he pleased you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so well.” Garrick promised huskily, a smug grin taking over his face at the filthy sounds your pussy made as he fingered you.

“Then do it.” You gasped, shivering as he scissored his digits once more before he pulled them out, a string of your wetness following him as if a part of you just couldn’t let him go this easily. “I need you to fuck me. Now, Garrick.”

“Such an attitude.” Garrick grinned, shaking his head as if he didn’t love every fucking second of this. His girl, soaked and trembling under him, the scent of her welcoming heat clouding every rationality in his mind.

You held on to his broad shoulders as he lowered himself down on you, his hips resting snugly between your thighs and for a moment, it was quiet and good and you finally felt whole again.

You moaned shakingly in union with him, briefly biting down on his collarbone as he eased inside of you, inch by inch until your thighs were already shaking and his hips were cradled warmly between your thighs. Garrick grunted, resting his forehead between your tits, his breath fanning over the warm skin and making it break out in pleased shivers. The strong arms resting at your sides were trembling slightly.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed, his tongue swirling around one of your aching buds before he looked at you awe-struck, not knowing how the hell he deserved to return to a heavenly woman like you. “’s been way too long…”

Your muscles flexed around him and he groaned, cock twitching inside of you. In a breathless whisper, you protested: “You’ve only been gone for two weeks.” Now you were challenging your luck.

“Two weeks too long, baby.” He muttered seriously before he caught your mouth in a hot and messy kiss, your moan swallowed by him as he pressed forward once again and then slowly pulled back, just to slowly fuck into you again when your head dropped helplessly onto his pillow.

Garrick rolled his hips, building up an intoxicating rhythm as you shook, your neglected pussy overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of it, of feeling him inside of you when you had to put up with your own fingers for the last days when the longing had become too much.

“Fuck baby, you’re gripping me so tightly…really missed me, huh?” He smiled at you brightly and if he hadn’t been balls deep inside of you right then, dragging his dick just right against your walls, you might’ve slapped him playfully.

“Don’t get cocky now.” Gods, you sounded ruined already and you knew he had not even started with you.

He grinned down at you, relishing the little twin pains in his shoulder blades where you held on to him tightly, still at his mercy while he oh so slowly fucked you. Garrick winked before he looked down to where his cock was sliding out of you, the sounds slippery and absolutely filthy as he used your puffy cunt to lube himself up more before he pushed back in. “Too late, hm?”

You glared at him, purposefully flexing around him and throwing your legs around his waist, causing him to plunge deeper inside of you. Garrick gasped in surprise but quickly regained his posture of confidence as he leaned down to kiss your chest, beginning to fuck you in earnest now.

The change was so sudden, it nearly gave you whiplash.

You were so wet, he could easily pound into you, his arms caging you in as his hips met yours. You bit back a scream as he lifted your bum from the mattress, holding on to him for dear life and then suddenly, the air split in two and-

- he suddenly stood with you in his arms, adjusting his grip on your thighs. You blinked at him in a second of confusion, peeking over his shoulder to see the abandoned messy bed where you two had just laid.

Garrick had wielded the distance. With you.

And he was still very much inside of you.

Your naked back hit the wall behind you and he bent his knees just slightly, the new angle making the delicious curve of his cock dragged over your sweet spot. You moaned loudly, the back of your head hitting the wall as he stared at you like you were his own personal goddess.

“Better.” He decided and lifted you, only to push you down onto his cock again. As if you weighed nothing in his arms, he resumed to fucking you once again, his thrusts sharp and passionate, lacking the patience from earlier and gaining more wildness with every push and pull.

You could do nothing but hold on to him as he fucked you, your high moans swallowed by his deep kisses when he wasn’t busy with ravishing your bared neck. He seemed to be everywhere at once, insatiable in his want for you.

Your nails raked down his muscular back and he moaned right into your mouth, utterly consumed by the feel of you as he rocked into you like it’d be the last time in his life. And you met him with each thrust, rolling your hips and feeling the mouth-watering friction of his abdomen against your clit every time.

“Come on, come on.” You urged him on raspily, sensing the familiar stutter in his rhythm, the way his fingers in your hair trembled. “I know you’re close, I’m right there with you. Let go, Gar…”

With a final shout, Garrick buried his face in your neck and released deep inside of you and as he reached down to touch you, you followed him right over the edge with a scream, your orgasm crashing over you like a thunderstorm.

Feeling the warmth of his come within you, your eyes fluttered closed as you both breathed in sync, unwilling to part yet as Garrick held you close like he never wanted to let go again.

“So perfect…” He mumbled against your skin and you giggled happily and drunk on pleasure.

You slumped down against him, trusting him blindly to catch you and he did. His strong arms held you close against his chest as his heavy exhales tickled the top of your head. You were boneless, completely happy and done with the world as long as your man held you and a sigh so wholly satisfied left your lips, it almost felt blasphemous.

A heaviness seeped into your body, but just as you wanted to hug Garrick and let yourself be carried to bed, he drew back. You whined, displeased as he slipped out of you, not understanding.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you yet.” He said with a simple shake of his head and slid down, his hands placing your bum back against the wall, one of them sliding underneath your thigh and lifting until he rested one of your shaky legs over his shoulder.

He got down on his knees.

“Garrick-“ Your eyes widened at the realization of what was about to occur, but it seemed like they hadn’t fed the returning soldiers at Riorson House yet. Because in the next second, Garrick was surging forward, moaning deeply as he buried his face in your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice nearly catapulting you into the next life.

You slammed your hand over your mouth, shrieking as he licked into you, his tongue dragging your combined releases over your spread folds before he suckled hard at your clit. He was all that held you up, his strength enough for the two of you as he devoured you without any saturation in sight.

Your hand was ripped away from your mouth and then, his glistening lips brushed over your knuckles, his eyes holding you captive as he slowly shook his head. “Let me hear you.”

Your answer was a broken moan, close to a blissful sob as he kissed and licked at you like his life depended on it, eager to taste every drop until you’d shatter underneath his skilled tongue.

“Fuck, Garrick-”

“Give me everything, baby.” He praised you, his hot breath fanning over your throbbing overstimulated clit for a moment as you panted and clawed at his shoulders in an attempt to try and keep up with him. “Such a good fucking girl, I missed you so much…”

“-missed you.” You gasped, twitching in his hold as he laid his tongue flat on you and licked a fat stripe upwards. And did it again and again.

A scorching heat tore through your stomach and it shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already there again, almost ready to jump over the cliff he had been leading you to.

Garrick, sensing your nearing release, looked up at you, his tongue still dancing around your clit as he laced your hands together and placed them both on the wall behind you.

“Every second I’m apart from you is still filled with you.” He vowed. “I love you.”

With one last stroke against you, you shattered apart. Unable to hold you up anymore, your legs gave in and Garrick caught you and pulled you against his chest as your second orgasm tore through you violently. His hands around your waist would likely leave marks later as you panted against his throat, trying to breathe through the last waves of pleasure rushing through you.

“Easy, love.” He murmured, peppering soft kisses over your temple, the top of your head and nose as you slowly calmed down. Garrick was so warm, a human furnace of a man, you felt your eyelids droop almost immediately, the position in his lap way too comfy to want to get up and clean yourself.

“I love you too…” You told him quietly, snuggling into his chest and relishing the closeness you had missed so dearly. You kissed his chest, right over his pounding, love-struck heart as he smiled warmly at you. “Welcome back.”

Every cocky grin after a game, every pointed remark, every stupid joke that made the whole school laugh—it all stuck with Mattheo, eating away at him. It wasn’t just the humiliation; it was the way the bastard seemed to enjoy it, like making Mattheo miserable was his favorite pastime. And it worked. Every time he strutted off the pitch like he owned the place, Mattheo was left grinding his teeth.

Mattheo could handle a loss—hell, he wasn’t above admitting defeat when it was deserved. But losing to him? To someone who could barely hold his own on a good day? That was a different story.

It wasn’t about skill. It was never about the game with him. It was about making a show of it, rubbing it in like he’d actually earned it, like scraping out a win somehow made him untouchable. And that made Mattheo’s blood fucking boil.

Every time it happened, he could feel the humiliation sinking deeper. The bastard would parade around like a king, lapping up the attention, making sure everyone knew he’d won—even if it was by sheer dumb luck. It was humiliating, to say the least.

The idiot couldn’t just play the game. No, he had to make Mattheo feel small while standing on the podium, taking all the praise like he deserved it—like he actually earned it. But he didn’t. Merlin, he never fucking did.

He was average at everything he did. Most of the goals he scored were thanks to others guiding him like he was some damn toddler; the guy couldn’t even stay balanced on his broom without looking like he was going to fall off at any moment. It was embarrassing to watch. And Mattheo was sure he had heard it from a few of the players on his team that the idiot was late to practice almost every day.

He was overrated in every sense of the word. Yet, somehow nothing ever changed. Everything stayed exactly the same.

No matter how many times Mattheo outplayed him, no matter how many matches he dominated or goals he scored, the brainless bastard always ended up in the spotlight, receiving compliments that didn’t even belong to him. It was insane how the whole school fawned over him like he was some god.

The guy was an untouchable, an untouchable piece of shit, but still untouchable. Teachers, students, almost everyone seemed to worship his ass, and the more they praised him, the more power the idiot seemed to get and the more self-centered he acted, which only made Mattheo even more pissed off.

The idiot didn’t even work for it. Everything was handed to him, like the world decided he was going to be the best, and nothing could change that. They treated him like some fucking golden child, and he ate it up like it was his due.

And that infuriated Mattheo, because no matter how hard he worked, no matter how good he was, he never got the praise. He never got the recognition he deserved. Never got the praise he craved. It was always about his last name. Riddle. At the end of the day, he was just Voldemort’s son, a son of a monster, a reminder of a legacy soaked in fear.

People didn’t see him for who he was or what he’d accomplished—they only saw his bloodline, his father’s sins, the deaths that followed him.

He hated every fucking bit of it. His idiot rival was constantly showered with praise and compliments, while Mattheo was stuck with pitying stares, whispers of fear, and the way everyone treated him like a damn outcast. He wanted to beat him up.

But the worst part? It wasn’t the wins. It wasn’t the way the bastard walked around like he owned the fucking place. It wasn’t even how everyone seemed to kiss the ground he walked on. No, the worst part was that he had you.

You. His precious girlfriend.

It wasn’t just that he had you, no. It was the fact that Mattheo had noticed you long before your brainless boyfriend ever did. And truth be told, it was because Mattheo saw the things your boyfriend never cared enough to notice. He saw how you laughed with your stupid friends in the stands during the matches, how you cheered when someone scored a goal, too distracted to even notice if the person was from your own house.

Mattheo noticed the way your brows furrowed when you were confused in class, the small crease on your forehead that made you seem so real, so human. So easy to ruin. He saw how your lips curved into a smile whenever you talked about something you loved—something he was almost certain your boyfriend never even noticed.

The scumbag always too busy looking at himself to care about what you were saying, too caught up in his own reflection to actually listen to the things that made you you.

But Mattheo? Mattheo listened. He saw the way your voice changed, the rhythm of it when you spoke, how it picked up when you talked about things that mattered to you. The way your breath hitched when you were nervous, the way you fidgeted, the little shifts in your body when you got caught up in something exciting. 

Mattheo Riddle noticed every fucking thing about you. Every. Damn. Thing.

And how could he not? You were fucking irresistible to his eyes, like a fucking magnet drawing people to you, pulling them in, making them want you. And Mattheo wasn’t any different. He craved you. He craved you so much that every time you were in the same room, he had to hold his breath, trying to keep himself in check, or else his cock would tear right through his pants. 

He wanted you so fucking badly, it made him ache, but still, you weren’t his. You belonged to an idiot who couldn’t even know what to do with all that.

You were his trophy, his pretty little prize to show around like a fucking object, more like a shiny thing he could flaunt to boost his already inflated ego than an actual human being. And maybe that’s all you were to him—a thing to fuck and show off, but not someone to cherish. Just another accomplishment that his pathetic success brought him.

Mattheo was sick of it. It wasn’t just the way your bastard boyfriend treated you—no, that was long past the truth. It was the fucking audacity of him, thinking he deserved you at all. If he couldn’t even catch a damn Quaffle properly, how the hell could he know how to protect you? How could he possibly know how to fuck you properly?

He didn’t. And Mattheo couldn’t for the life of him understand how you could see anything in a guy like that.

Mattheo stormed through the corridors, his Quidditch uniform pulling tightly against his exhausted, sweaty body. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed, still seething after the match he had just won against your boyfriend. It had been an easy win—your boyfriend was a joke without anyone else carrying him—but the anger still burned inside him. He should’ve felt good about the victory, but all he could focus on was how much it pissed him off.

He knew exactly what the bastard of your boyfriend would do when he left the locker rooms. He knew. He’d come straight to you, expecting you to lift his spirits like you always did: riding his dick until he was completely satisfied, making you do all the work while the fucking idiot didn’t even move his hips.

But this time, Mattheo would be quicker. He’d find you faster, and unlike your boyfriend, he wasn’t going to treat you like some cheap consolation prize. No, he planned on using you as a victory prize, almost as valuable as the points his house had just won.

He had taken his win, so it was only fair to take his consolation prize, right?

He thought so, so that’s why he didn’t think twice before slamming his fist against the door, the sharp sound of wood cracking under his hand echoing through the quiet room while his palm smacked against the sturdy surface, the force enough to make the door rattle in its frame, and making you jump at the sudden noise, your heart racing in surprise. Before you could process what happened, the door swung open again, and there, standing in the doorway, was an angry Mattheo Riddle.

And for a moment neither of you spoke.

Nevertheless, you could feel his eyes on you, shamelessly scanning your body, and for a moment, you felt vulnerable, as if you were standing naked before him. Still, he didn’t look away; instead, he crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his gaze fixed on you, already calculating how to draw you into his plan.

Yet he couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips when he noticed the blush creeping across your cheeks and the way your eyes darted, desperate to avoid his. You looked so pretty, so easy to ruin.

“You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?” His voice cut through the silence, startling you. You blinked, your gaze stubbornly fixed on his strong chest. The way his sweat-soaked uniform clung to every muscle was distracting—too distracting, and you noticed his dark curls fell messily over those piercing brown eyes, and for a brief, shameful moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring.

What the hell are you doing? You scolded yourself, your cheeks growing more red this time with shame.

You cleared your throat, lifting your head slightly to meet Mattheo’s gaze. His brow already arched as you looked, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he watched you closely. He knew his plan was falling into place, and so was yours.

“Yeah.” You stood up, trying to keep your voice steady as you looked at him. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

Mattheo scoffed, knowing full well your boyfriend was probably sulking in the locker room, making a scene about his loss and fishing for sympathy. He took a step closer to you, and it took everything in you not to back away or, worse, lean towards him. “He’s coming, he’s coming,” you kept repeating to yourself, almost like a desperate reminder that you had a boyfriend.

“Sure he will, sweetheart,” he said, the mockery in his tone impossible to miss, his eyes raking over you from head to toe again, a pretty little thing like you waiting for an idiot who doesn’t even know how to use his dick—sad, really. “He’s so reliable, isn’t he? Always putting you first. Always showing up for you,” he added sarcastically, smirking even more as you swallowed, knowing he had hit a nerve.

Mattheo’s words hit you like a slap, but the worst part was how much truth they carried. You bristled, refusing to acknowledge your failed relationship, and narrowed your eyes at him. “That’s none of your fucking business, Riddle,” you hissed, gripping your wrists tightly as he took another step towards you.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a smirk anything but friendly. “Isn’t it? I think it’s exactly my damn business.” His voice was calm—too calm—like he was savoring every second of making you realize the bastard was not all that. But even with that collected tone, you could still see the same anger in his eyes. 

“You’ve been letting him walk all over you for too long, haven’t you? Always waiting, always hoping he’ll finally see you… really see you.” He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, his dark gaze still piercing into yours. “But he doesn’t, does he?”

You swallowed hard, the tightness in your chest making it difficult to breathe. You knew he was right; the frustration of always coming second to your boyfriend’s ego, of never feeling truly seen or satisfied, was frustrating. But you weren’t ready to admit it—not to him.

You knew who Mattheo was—the son of the dark lord and a top player on the Slytherin Quidditch team. But that didn’t matter to you, not when your boyfriend filled your head with his hate for him, always trying to be better than Mattheo, and deep down you knew he would never reach that goal. Your boyfriend had recognition but no real talent. He always hid his insecurities behind a false confidence and a big ego, caring only about himself and putting others down.

He was a piece of shit; you couldn’t deny it.

You lifted your chin, trying to stay calm and ignore how close Mattheo was getting, his gaze intense, like a predator eyeing its prey. “I don’t need you to tell me about my relationship.” You shot back, trying to hold your ground, though his words still gnawed at your mind. Yet Matthew wasn’t looking into your eyes. No, his attention was lower, fixed on the curve of your hips, like he was already claiming it as his prize.

He lifted his gaze from your curves, his smirk deepening as he seemed to enjoy the way you squirmed, desperately trying to defend a lost cause like your brainless idiot of a boyfriend. “You don’t, huh?” His voice dropping, growing darker. 

“Then why the hell are you still waiting for him? How long have you been sitting here, staring at that door like he’s gonna show up and treat you right… fuck you right?” He paused, letting the silence hang between you, thick and heavy. “You know he never will, at least not the way you want, sweetheart.”

You blinked, over and over, not realizing how he had moved closer until he was standing right in front of you, too caught up in the way your heart seemed to race at his previous words, the way they sliced through your mind. You knew he was right; you were just a precious little thing for your boyfriend to show off, nothing more, and the bastard never knew how to properly use his dick on you.

Mattheo didn’t flinch, his eyes darkening as his smirk widened. He took another step toward you, finally stopping just in front of you, making your heart race, your knees almost buckling as you noticed his Quidditch uniform clung to his body with every movement.

“It’s the truth, and you know it,” he said, his voice low. “Every time he brushes you off, every time he acts like he’s too busy for you, too busy to actually care. But not me.” He leaned in, just close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “I see you. I’ll use you how you deserve to be used, and I won’t make you feel invisible.”

You weren’t stupid; you knew the difference between Mattheo and your boyfriend. Even though both saw you as something to be conquered, at least Mattheo knew how to use his cock. The temptation was there, the promise of finally being noticed, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t because he cared.

It was all part of his plan, and you were falling deeper into his trap.

His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The touch was light—almost innocent—but it sent a shiver down your spine, nonetheless. and you knew it wasn’t innocent at all. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice faltering as you tried to hold on to whatever little control you had left.

“Don’t what, sweetheart?” he whispered, his hand moving to your neck as he brought his face closer to you once again, this time only a few centimeters from your neck, his lips just millimeters away. “Hmm?” he hummed, a provocation, you noticed, his calloused hand tightening slightly around your neck as he placed a light kiss on the spot, almost as if testing the territory.

Fuck, that was easier than he thought, and at this rate he was going to get hard in no time; he wanted to feel your pussy so much.

“Riddle,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to sound firm, yet the way you were trying to stand betrayed you. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he shot back in a whisper, his mouth still close to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes bore into your face, craving for you to finally break, for him to finally claim you as a prize, to finally piss off your boyfriend and show you how a girl like you should be fucked. Yet, he knew he had to wait; wait until you were so absorbed in him that you wouldn’t want to turn back.

“Mattheo…” First name, good.

He chuckled, his breath coming against your neck, sending vibrations through your body. His left hand was now on your stomach, while his right rested at the back of your neck. “Tell me something, sweetheart. When was the last time he touched you like this?” he asked, his hand sliding down to your skirt, gently caressing your thigh.

You try to ignore the way your own body was responding to his touch, his breath, the traitorous wetness between your legs growing, making you feel a bit ashamed, as you knew he could feel.

“I—” you stopped, the words catching in your throat, your breathing growing heavier as his hand continued to caress your thigh and his mouth lingered on your neck, leaving small kisses on your sensitive spot. You were too lost in the sensation to even remember that your boyfriend could walk in at any moment.

Mattheo chuckled against your neck, gently pushing your legs further apart as he looked at you, noticing the way you trembled against his body. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction—not just from the sight but also from the realization that you were already so lost in his touch, there was just a little chance you’d turn back now.

You sighed visibly, your eyes remaining closed as you were too lost in the touch and embarrassment to even look at him. However, you couldn’t help but let out a small scream when, with a sudden movement, Mattheo pushed you against a small desk, positioning himself behind you. His hand still squeezed your neck, but this time lifting your chin slightly, holding you like a trophy.

“Such a needy girl,” Mattheo murmured in your ear, his groin pressed firmly against your ass, making you bite your lip as your cunt clenched at his words. “So needy already, and I’ve barely touched you,” he mocked, the hand that had been on your thigh now sliding to your stomach, his fingertips prodding you teasingly.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, your head spinning as he pressed his groin even more against you. Fucking bastard.

“Shhh,” he shushed you mockingly, almost chuckling as you kept your eyes closed, trying to curse him. “Don’t be so mean, sweetheart. I’m about to give you what that fucking bastard doesn’t have the balls to do,” he whispered in your ear, giving a small bite to the lobe of your ear as he did so.

You didn’t respond; instead, you pressed your clothed ass against his hips, making him groan as he felt his quidditch uniform tighten around his cock.

Mattheo continued to rock his hips against you, his right hand tightening its grip on your neck and tilting your chin up, exposing your face to the small window of the room. His fingers on your right hand pushed your skirt down, and before you realized it, both your skirt and panties were already at your heels, causing Mattheo’s smirk to widen even more as he saw how wet you were.

“You’re so wet already,” he chuckled against your ear, his fingers trailing down your lower stomach, almost reaching your already dripping cunt. “Such a desperate little thing you are,” he mocked you again, his hips pressing into your bare ass. “He doesn’t fuck you properly, does he?”

You held your breath at his provocation, a small part of your rationality returning after the truth he had spoken. Your nails dug into the desk in front of you as you tried to process what was happening, struggling not to look at Mattheo’s fingers still trailing along the lower part of your stomach.

For a moment, a part of your mind sobered, the image of your boyfriend flashing through your thoughts. A wave of hesitation threatened to take over, and you almost gave in to the doubt, but before you could pull back, Mattheo’s hand landed firmly against your pussy, the sound echoing through the room. The sharp sting caused you to gasp, but before you could even recover, his fingers slid deep inside you.

“Mattheo!” You moaned his name like a prayer, gasping for air as his other hand moved to your hair, pushing your head towards his shoulder as his finger continued to fill your wet cunt.

Mattheo chuckled, his hips pressing and rubbing against your ass as his fingers moved in and out of you without any delicacy, and he felt his cock getting harder as your pussy squeezed his fingers, making him imagine what it would be like when it was wrapped around his cock, squeezing it until he filled you with cum.

“That’s it.” Mattheo said in your ear, his grip on your hair tightening as his fingers thrust, making you moan and move your hips even more. “Such a pretty slut.” He moaned as well, feeling your bare ass rocking against his clothed cock.From the frantic movements of your hips, he knew you were close to your orgasm, which only made him more satisfied.

Holy shit, he barely touched you, and you were already a mess; your boyfriend was a joke.

“Oh my fucking God,” you moaned louder, the pain from his grip on your hair almost fading as his fingers hit your sensitive spot, making you clamp your legs together. “Mattheo!” You breathed out, your nails digging deeper into the wooden desk in front of you, and you bucked your hips against his clothed cock as your vision began to blur.

“Jus like that,” he groaned, moving his hips and fingers in the same ruthless rhythm, the wet sounds of your pussy muffled only by the sounds of your moans. “Cum,” he commanded, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he did. You moaned louder, your legs shaking as you obeyed his order.

Your eyes opened, and you looked down, trying to control your breathing, which only made you moan louder as you watched Mattheo’s cum-soaked fingers slip out of your pussy with a wet sound. Feeling his smirk against your ear, his hips now grinding slowly against your ass.

Mattheo looked at your state, the sweat sticking to his forehead and making his hair cling even more. His eyes fixed on his fingers for a few seconds, your essence evident on them. He should be satisfied right now, on cloud nine—but he wasn’t. Not yet.

His eyes scanned over you again, taking in your flushed cheeks, the marks on your shoulder, your tangled hair. You were a mess—a hot mess—but it still wasn’t enough. No, quite the opposite. You were a mess, but not a crying mess, and that’s exactly what he wanted. After all, you couldn’t be his trophy if you weren’t used the right way, could you?

Well, that’s what he thought.

His hand pulled your hair back further, which made you let out a sudden scream and widen your eyes, the previous adrenaline still present throughout your body, and although you were tired, your pussy throbbed even more with the sudden pull.

“What are you—...?”

“Do you really think this is over, pretty thing?” He asked, his voice filled with mockery as he pushed your hair even more, his other hand still soaked with your cum. “A slut like you needs more to be satisfied, especially if she’s not being fucked properly.” He groaned into your ear, and you almost moaned at the dirty words.

With a sudden movement, Mattheo turned you to face him, his hand still gripping your scalp, and sat you down on the wooden surface, spreading your legs so he could position himself between them.

You looked at him, your pussy blinking in anticipation as you watched the way his sweat made his Slytherin uniform stick to the defined muscles of his chest, and you couldn't help but bite your lip at the sight.

“Do you like what you see?” Mattheo asked, his grip on your hair still firm, his lips curling into a smirk as he saw you nod. “Such a pretty girl.” He paused, his eyes still fixed on your face. “Open your mouth.” His voice was firm, and you, too lost in your previous pleasure, obeyed him without hesitation.

Taking advantage of the opening, Mattheo brought his free hand to your mouth, his fingers covered in your cum, making contact with your tongue. Neither of you could control the moan as your tongue rolled around his fingers.

Mattheo stared at the scene for a few seconds, as if hypnotized by the sight. However, the hardness of his dick quickly snapped him back to reality, reminding him of what he needed from you. In an instant, he pulled his fingers from your tongue and used them to open your mouth. Before you could fully react, he took the opportunity to spit onto your tongue and pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss.

You both moaned into each other's mouths, your taste present as tongues and teeth collided eagerly, both of you wanting to take control of the battle that your mouths were trying to win at all costs.

Mattheo’s hand pulled your hair harder, taking control of the kiss as you moaned against his mouth. He mirrored your sound; however, while you were completely lost in the kiss, Matt had already pulled his waistband and boxers down to his heels, his hard cock exposed as he struggled to control himself, fighting the urge to fuck you right there.

Yet, he couldn’t control himself—not when your pussy looked so fucking pretty, not when the anger was still beating against his ribs, and not when he was still waiting to make the trophy completely his.

Mattheo gripped your hair even tighter, pulling you out of the kiss with surprising strength, making you moan in annoyance at the loss of contact. However, that moan quickly turned into one of pleasure when you felt another slap on your pussy, signaling for you to open your legs. This one was stronger, the wet sound reverberating through the walls. 

Yet, you obeyed quickly, spreading your legs to give Mattheo the opening he needed to finally enter you and claim the trophy he felt he deserved.

You looked at his dick anxiously, your sensitive cunt throbbing. Mattheo grabbed your leg, placing it over his shoulder, and without a single warning, he slid inside with a single thrust between your wet folds, and a loud moan escaped your lips at the sensation. "Fuck, you're so tight," Mattheo groaned, feeling your tight walls squeezing his cock as he thrust even harder.

Fuck, he was big—too big, or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, since the only dick you were used to was your boyfriend’s. And, honestly, you sometimes wondered if it was just for decoration.

Mattheo’s grip on you tightens harder, his breath coming in low gasps and whimpers almost as loud and scandalous as yours as he continues to push his cock deep inside your soaked folds, making the sound reverberate through the stone walls of the room.

You didn’t hold back, moaning and whimpering as you moved your hips with him, too lost in the sensation to care about your boyfriend.

Mattheo knew exactly what he was doing, stealing you from that worthless piece of shit you called your boyfriend and claiming you like a damn trophy. The satisfaction of finally having his hands on you, feeling your body around his, was like a fucking victory prize for him, an intoxicating one.

Yet, you didn’t care that you were being used as a pawn, not when you were being filled and used like a slut by a cock that actually did its job.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered, moving your hips even harder, making Mattheo groan and moan loudly and mimicking your actions, moving his hips with the same roughness as you, thrusting even further inside you. Your arms behind you, resting on the table, and you could feel your leg getting sore on top of Mattheo’s shoulder. You didn't care, though, as you continued to dig your nails into the table, leaving a mark.

“That fucking idiot has a bitch like you and doesn’t fuck her the way she deserves,” he growled, anger visible in his voice, his dick still moving inside your desperate, wet cunt, your flesh almost shining. “Such a good fucking cunt,” he murmurs, gripping your leg even harder, the sound of your moans and whimpers only fueling his ego.

He wasn’t just fucking you, you notice; the son of a bitch was claiming you in ways your boyfriend could never even dream of.

Mattheo took your leg off his shoulder abruptly, slapping your thighs roughly and then moving them apart so he had more access to your soaked pussy that was proudly swallowing his fat cock, which made him increase his movements even more, his fingers gripping your waist as he moved inside you, his brown eyes focused on yours for a few seconds.

“Mattheo!” You continued moaning his name loudly, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. You were so lost in the sensation, so caught in his intense gaze, that you had to close your eyes, shutting them tightly as you tried to regain control.

But that only seemed to anger him even more, and without warning, he thrust even harder into you, and in the next instant, his hand came down, slapping your face with force; the sound echoed through the room, making your head snap to the side, the force leaving a mark on your skin. 

You moaned once more, opening your eyes and focusing on him again. Your pussy throbbed from the sudden contact on your cheek, and for a moment, you couldn't help but curse yourself under your breath, the sensation making you even hornier than before, your walls clenching even tighter around his cock.

“What a pretty little slut, squeezing my dick like this,” he moaned at the way your pussy tightened around him. “Look at your pathetic state,” he laughed through his nose, watching the red mark on your cheek. 

His hips slammed harder against yours, making you moan when you felt his dick hit your sensitive spot, and he mimicked the sound when he felt you tighten around him, letting him know you were close to orgasm. You looked at him completely as you rocked your hips against his, trying to ignore the burning sensation his hand left on your cheek.

He looked fucking glorious; the way his curls clung to his forehead made him look even more irresistible. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but notice how his muscled chest was still covered by his Quidditch jersey, and you couldn’t help but feel a little off, knowing that your boyfriend’s team lost to the house of the man who was fucking you right now.

The force in Mattheo's deep and rough thrusts increased, and you tried to use that to your advantage to try to take off the Slytherin jersey; however, when he noticed that your hands were going towards his uniform, Mattheo laughed dryly and brought his hand back to your hair, grabbing it and pulling you back, thrusting his dick harder into your pussy.

“No, no,” he forced a chuckle, trying to control a moan as he felt himself getting closer to his orgasm, the force on your scalp getting stronger. “I’m going to wear this fucking jersey until you cum.” He gave another deep thrust, and before you could even complain, he crashed your mouths in another bruising but sloppy kiss.

“Mattheo, please!” You moaned into his mouth, tears falling down your cheeks, making him smirk even more as he kissed you roughly and pressed his cock on your hole even more, satisfied that he was finally making you a crying mess and satisfied that you were so lost in the pleasure of his cock that you let him take you as a trophy, making you forget about your brainless boyfriend.

“Fuck, I’m close too, sweetheart.” He responded by thrusting even harder into your pussy, and not even ten seconds later you came moaning loudly against his lips, your pussy wetting his cock with your cum as you cried out.

Mattheo broke the kiss, moaning loudly, his goal accomplished. His mouth went towards your shoulder, biting the skin as he continued to thrust, guiding himself to orgasm. His hand tightened even more in your hair before finally cumming, filling your pussy with his release before taking it off you.

Both of you tried to control your breaths, your hearts still racing. Mattheo looked at you, his breathing still heavy, yet before you could come to your senses, he kneeled before you, his hand leaving your hair as he placed both of his hands on your thighs, looking at your expression, your eyes closed. 

He licked a small part of your mixed orgasms, causing him to groan against your folds. The two of you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice your boyfriend standing in the doorway, looking at the scene with his jaw clenched.

Mattheo finally looked up, and when he noticed his asshole rival looking at the scene angrily, he moved his face away from your pussy, smirking in your boyfriend’s direction, while both of your orgasms ran down his chin, falling onto his sports jersey, showing your boyfriend that Mattheo had fucked the way he was never capable of.

And when your boyfriend finally stormed off, Mattheo turned his attention back to your pussy, not even telling you about his appearance.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmured against your pussy, enjoying his victory. Because, in the end, being a trophy was better than being a consolation prize, right?

And after all, Mattheo Riddle always took good care of his trophies, and you wouldn’t be the exception.

© riddleshire 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

first time writing full pnv… how do we feel? sad tbh 😔

for @asvtrials @astrxq @earth4angels my favorite beta readers, i love you all!! 🫂

and for @leona-hawthorne who was the first to know about this idea, i love you! 💕

comments and reblogs are appreciated and help me a lot, so feel free to interact 🫶🏻

Though you can’t complain much, considering that you were right here with them—dancing as if you hadn’t in years.

In a way, you haven't. You haven’t felt a rush of autonomy and euphoria quite like this before.

With everyone being nothing but working busy-bodies, there’s been little to no time to plan big events such as tonight. The lack of excitement has been a major factor too.

Hence why as soon as the Moore twins came back into town with the intention to open up their very own juke joint, everyone was on board.

The pair hadn’t been seen here in seven years.

Seven long, cruel years without the twin you’ve grown to love.

Stack.

Well, he was Stack to everyone else. But to you? He was still Elias. Your ‘Lias.

Seven years without his lingering touches and pearly smiles.

You weren’t the only one that missed him, it seems.

Your sister told you that when she went down near the train station, she was right there waiting for your Elias.

Mary was waiting.

You don’t have a clue as to how she knew he was coming home before you did, considering that nobody from the Delta had heard from him except for you. And a letter from him was rather rare.

Mary had nearly thrown a fit once she saw him; it didn’t help that Elias had turned down her persistent advances.

The lack of contact obviously sent her over the edge.

Apparently she mentioned their former relations; their connection being a secret to none.

You were envious of this; never jealous, but overcome by a feeling of want.

Growing up with the twins meant that the three of you were as close as can be. That being said, though, they looked at you as if you were their little sister. It was fine when Elijah assumed the role of a family member, but Elias?

Just thinking about it makes your heart ache.

You longed for the flirtatious remarks that he’d give off to any and every woman, a night filled with intimacy plagued your mind constantly.

But you got over it.

You had to. Not only for the sake of your friendship with Elias, but also because of his prolonged absence from town.

That’s why tonight—right now, you had to pump the breaks and focus on celebrating the twins’ success.

Speaking of success?

You making your way over to the bar with your wobbly heeled-covered feet was a success. Surprisingly.

“Someone’s been dancin’ a lil too hard, huh?” Annie chortles, looking at you with nothing but sisterly-love, and a bit of amusement.

“Only dancin’ I was doing was during my cooking—nothin’ like this in a while,” you exclaim with bliss through a beaming smile. You huff as you sit down in front of the bar. “Y’got anythin’ good back here?” You motion to the bottles Annie has surrounding her.

“Better than good,” Annie replies before ducking down and searching below the counter.

You brace your hands on the counter and slightly peer over at the woman, but then she pops up quicker than you can plop back down onto your chair. She quirks a brow at you before placing a bottle down in front of you.

“What’s this?” You question; if Annie didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that it was Christmas morning with the way you were looking at the bottle.

“Authentic Irish beer; straight from the north side of Chicago. Different from the rest they’re sellin’.” She replies. “Your man brought it specifically for you—made me promise I wouldn’t give it to nobody else, no matter how much they was payin’.”

You bite back a smile at her words; you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“He fixin’ to be Mary’s.” Your lips straighten, it’s bittersweet.

“That so? ‘Cause that ain’t what I heard,” Annie muses, making you pause. You savor Annie’s words as if they were your holy grail. Was there a chance that Elias looked at you the same as you did him?

You crane your neck and your gaze is set over your shoulder—over at him.

He catches your eye and he gives you a cheeky smile, to which you return rather eagerly.

You hadn’t had a single nonchalant bone in your body it seems.

Your shared staring was cut short as Mary forced Elias’ attention back onto her, but it wasn’t exactly a hard task for her.

Something about her was just so easy and simple, despite the ring shining on her hand that matched another man’s being anything but simple. The way that they connected even after all these years made you feel as if you swallowed a jar of mud.

After a few sips of beer, you can’t help but let a smile rest on your face. Elias knew you’d love it, and it makes your heart dance.

Speaking of dancing, your dearest friend Pearline struts up to you with a grin that soared for miles.

“What’s got you cheesin’ all hard?” You raise your eyebrows at her, making her giggle.

“Y’know the Preacher’s boy? The one that was just singin’?” Pearline’s nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement.

“Lil’ Sammie Moore? Course I do, why? What’d you do Pearl?” You gape at her and hold her hands tightly in yours.

“Well…” She trails off. “Let’s just say, he showed me he ain’t a boy, but a real man.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of the sockets as you exclaim a Pearline! that could probably be heard for miles.

Pearline gushes, “He made me feel things I ain’t never felt before.”

“Not even with your mister?” You gasp.

“Not even close. And that’s not all,” she pauses before looking around, then leaning in towards you.

“I wasn’t even able to freshen up. He didn’t want me to,” Pearline whispers.

You shout, then look around in embarrassment at your outburst; you shake Pearline vigorously by her shoulders and giggle some more.

You decide to look around the joint, and you coincidentally catch Sammie looking right at the back of Pearline’s frame in utter awe.

You nudge Pearline, and she looks over at him with you. The look that she throws his way is nothing short of flirtatious.

“He looked at ya like he wanted t’take a bite,” you snicker.

Pearline looks at you mischievously, “Funny, considerin’ he already did.” You can’t help but laugh.

“So, y’thinkin’ bout singin’ like he said?” You ask.

Pearline hums, “Maybe. ‘M thinkin’ you should too.”

“No, not happenin’. Not a chance,” You scoff playfully.

Pearline whines and grabs your wrists. “C’mon, sista! When’s the last time you got the chance to do this?” She pouts, and tries hardest to make puppy-dog eyes at you.

“Besides, this could be y’chance to make a move on Stack. Ain't that whatcha been waitin’ for?” She drags.

You falter at the question she poses.

“Tonight’s the night, sista.” Pearline murmurs softly.

It’s crazy how you always get in your head when it comes to him.

The thing is, you weren’t one to throw yourself out there just to entertain a man. No, that just wasn’t your style.

But God—tonight? His suit was fitting snug in all the right places, his grills glimmered dangerously in the dim lighting, and his eyes always found yours, recklessly.

You couldn’t resist Elias Moore.

And right now, you’re starting to wonder if you ever could.

“Y’better wrap that scarf on tight, Pearl,” you say as you grab her arm and start walking with her to the front. Pearline shrills and claps her hands with glee.

You saunter towards the stage with a pep in your step and your arm linked with a perky Pearline. Your heels clack on the wooden floors as you come face-to-face with the band and none other than Delta Slim, who’s now grinning at you.

“Been tryin’ to getcha to sing for years girl, what’s with the change o’ heart?” He questions with a smirk, as if he already knew the answer. You’re sure that he did with the way that his eyes looked past you and towards Elias.

“It’s a nice night, figured I’d try sum different,” you shrug, trying to mask your sudden embarrassment. Pearline intertwines her hand with yours and uses her other one to gesture to the band. You inhale deeply while looking at her; she gives you a look of reassurance.

The patrons of the juke joint grow silent at the sight of you two taking your stances and the band readying their instruments.

Pearline starts humming and you lightly stomp your feet on the stage, starting to form a beat as the band follows.

Elias feels as if his heart was being weighed down by a ton inside of him. He held his breath—scared that the rise and fall of his chest would make him miss the steady view of you: parading around as if everything outside the joint had come to a halt.

You looked completely, and utterly divine up there; moving swiftly and effortlessly, as if you owned the very ground you were stepping on.

You were absolutely ethereal in Elias’ eyes.

And he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t falling even harder for his sugar as of right now. He was the only man that could get away with calling you sugar; he knows it, so does everyone else in the Delta—and Elias can’t help but let his pride swell every time he thinks about it.

Your body sways carelessly as if you were one with the words that escaped your lips, but your eyes are grounded—powerful, even. Speaking of them: your glittering orbs meet his, your gaze nothing short of a vixen’s.

Though, the interlocking of your sights is interrupted when Mary makes her presence known yet again at Elias’ side. He can’t help but sigh at the intrusion.

Luckily, Elias’ ever-growing agitation fades when the patrons of the juke let out their elation around him. The band’s playing picks up, as well as you and Pearline’s voices.

Don’t let it shine, shine, shine once more

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

Everyone chants and stomps rhythmically.

“I wanna sing, like I hear the crickets do,” Pearline sings seductively while peering at Sammy as she struts.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna hoo,” you and Pearline sing simultaneously, harmonizing beautifully as your backs meet and you both slide to a crouching position.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna howl,” the two of you sound as if you were straight out of a folktale—like one of those myths of the sirens that Annie had explained to Elias once before. You and Pearline then reside in a crawl as you look at the crowd with a sense of hunger in your eyes.

Mary gets ahold of Elias’ tie, but he quickly removes her grip from him—without even breaking eye contact with you. He knows she’s interested in spending the rest of the night with him; maybe in hopes of rekindling an old flame.

But how could Elias be interested in another woman when his woman—his sugar—was looking at him so deliciously.

You grin slyly at him, biting your bottom lip before licking your teeth.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna scream,” Pearline sings, as you mouth the three words to Elias.

Three little words that have Elias fucking mesmerized, hypnotized even. You have him in a trance, right where you want him, and you both know it.

Elias wishfully thinks that the pick up in your breathing isn’t just from all the dancing you’ve been doing tonight. He bites his lip at the thoughts running through his mind.

Mary can’t even say that she recognizes the look that Elias gives you, for she has never been on the receiving end like you have been. Her frustration and jealousy boils over, and she eventually huffs before walking away from Elias, and out of the juke joint.

Elias doesn’t mind one bit, and he sure as hell doesn’t when the song finishes and you hug Pearline with excitement as the joint nearly turns upside down. You’re jumping up and down and Elias can’t help but smile til his cheeks hurt.

Elias feels a hand slap somewhat roughly on his shoulder. He knows good and well it’s his brother, with or without the wave of tobacco radiating.

“Came out here after the game finished, saw the way she was lookin’ at’cha, too.” Elijah grumbles.

“Breathtakin’, ain’t she?” Elias remarks breathily, not even turning to his brother—keeping his sights on you, as you hug Slim and the rest of the instrument players.

“Not ‘bout how I feel, ‘s ‘bout how you feel,” Elijah sighs. This makes Elias turn towards his brother.

“Don’t know what’chu waitin’ on, already been years,” Elijah then pauses before continuing, “Don’t be surprised when somebody see what’chu see.” Elijah trails off, almost ominously, and nods his head in your direction.

Elias follows his twin’s trail of sight and spots you: talking to a man he ain’t even seen before. You were beaming, your hair a little frizzed up by the humidity, your lipgloss smudged a little onto your shimmering skin.

Speaking of your lipgloss—whoever you’re talking to decided to rub his finger below your lip to wipe it away. Right now, Elias’ demeanor resembles the snake him and his brother killed earlier: cold and unmoving.

You glance around the sea of bodies, and Elias takes this as a sign. He starts to walk up to you, but not before having to mumble several ‘excuse me’s while side-stepping quite a few people—who seem to not be able to hold their liquor.

He finally reaches you, and he gets a glimpse of you over the guy’s shoulder, who has no idea he’s even there.

“We got a problem?” Elias murmurs, making the stranger nearly jump out of his skin.

“N-nah man,” the man chuckles awkwardly as he faces Elias.

“I reckon we do, since y’talkin’ to my lady,” Elias replies, sizing him up as he takes a step closer to him. The man takes a step back in return.

“I ain’t know, I-I’m sorry, Stack,” the man trembles meekly. Elias only hums. The man glances between the two of you before making himself scarce.

Elias stays in the same spot for a beat, before turning and giving you a look that says let’s go, before walking towards one of the back rooms of the joint. You hesitate, before inching behind him.

“So I’m y’lady now?” You don’t bother to tone down the sass in your voice.

“‘S what I said, ain’t it?” he mumbles, not even looking at you.

You scoff, “Yeah, well, y’got a funny way a’ showin’ it.”

Elias pulls you into a dimly lit room and finally faces you as you stand before him. “What’s that s’possed to mean?”

You narrow your eyes at him before speaking. “Means I saw you messin’ with ole Mary.”

“She don’t mean nun to me,” Elias guaffs. “Why d’ya think she left already?”

You roll your eyes and begin to head out the door you just came from. You’re not sure where this attitude just came from, in all honesty. The moment your eyes met him while you were on stage, it felt as if everything else had faded away, and it was just the two of you.

Maybe it was the irritation caused by Mary that left you in a sour mood now, you’re not sure. You know it won’t be beneficial to you nor Elias in this moment, but you can’t help it.

Elias grabs your wrist before you can get too far away from him.

“She ain’t nun, y’hear?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he almost sounded desperate. You stay quiet.

“Asked you a question, sugar. ‘N with that attitude of yours, I ain’t fixin’ to repeat myself.” His lips ghost the shell of your ear as he speaks, and heat twinges through your stomach. Elias seems to take notice of the subtle switch in your demeanor; he smirks and his chocolate brown irises darken even further.

“I…I don’t believe you,” You almost whisper, but still meet his gaze.

Almost immediately, he responds with, “What I got to do to convince you, baby?” Elias matches your tone, but there’s still a hint of assertiveness conveyed through his words.

You don’t speak—it’s almost like you couldn’t, but you release your wrist from his grasp gently.

Elias’ jaw clenched slightly, but you still spot it. He looks as if he’s pondering his next words.

“‘S not makin’ sense, darlin’. I mean, you were acting like a whore on stage, now you don’t want me to touch you?” He cocks his head at you and your lips part—like it was reflex, and maybe it was. Elias clicks his tongue.

Your breath picks up, and if your mind weren’t turning fuzzy, you would’ve chided yourself for making a fool out of yourself in front of a man—Elias at that.

The man you’ve yearned for longer than you can even remember.

“I ain’t no whore,” you speak, finally regaining your senses.

“That right, sugar?” You can feel Elias’ breath on your heated face, and all you can do is nod in return.

“Y’wanna know what I think?” Before you can answer the question Elias poses, he murmurs lowly, “I think that deep down….You are a whore—and you needa be fucked like one.”

Despite the vulgarity of his words, the way that Elias places his palm across your cheek is soft—loving, even.

You press your thighs together through your dress unconsciously, desperately seeking even an ounce of friction to cool the impending heat between your legs.

Elias takes the hand that rested upon your cheek and moved it to the stiff rim lock that resided on the door’s surface.

Thank god—You’d hate for the likes of someone such as Sammie barging in and being witness to sin hotter than the Mississippi sun.

Elias then starts to walk you back to the table that remained bare in the dingy-lit room, removing his suit jacket and vest, followed by his tie. The backs of your knees meet the edge of the firm table, making you stumble just a bit. Elias takes it upon himself to lay you down onto the table.

You rest on your elbows as you look up at the six-foot-something man in front of you, and you can’t help but swoon. His beating eyes look down at you lustfully—almost as if he were a predator, and you his prey.

It made you weak.

Weak at the hands of a man you’d been waiting on while he had the time of his life in Chicago, with all sorts of Italian customs. Your actions are beyond halfwitted, but you make no effort to straighten yourself out anymore.

Elias takes his warm hands and spreads your knees with ease after unbuttoning his shirt, making you yelp involuntarily at the near-abrasiveness. He licks his grillz and lets out a short, deep chuckle; you feel it vibrate your bones, while he aligns himself so that almost he’s eye-level with your warm core.

“Elias, wait—“ You whimper meekly,

He hums disapprovingly, letting out a firm ‘mm-mmn’. He rips his gaze from your thighs to your eyes, “Been waitin’ for years, sugar, not sure if I can any longer.” He repositions his hands, lifting your dress and hitching it up to your upper thighs, nearly to your pelvic bone.

Elias massages your thighs with an iron grip, it’s not yet rough, but not exactly gentle either. His switch between the two is making your mind reel.

He kisses up from your knee almost to where your dress bunches up as he removes his button-up, leaving him in his undershirt. He then says, “…So, m’sorry if I lose m’manners,” he breathes hotly against your skin, “But I don’t think I can live without destroying this pussy for a minute longer.” He damn near groans.

His mouth hovers above your clothed cunt—he purposely breathes in a way that makes you squirm at the feeling you’re unable to run from. As you shudder and tilt your head back, you suddenly hear a rip and you feel a gust of air.

You gasp and look down, where you’re met with Elias looking up at you cheekily, with one half of your panties in his mouth, and the other in his hand.

“‘Lias!” You exclaim.

Elias feigns innocence, “Told ya I ain’t mean no harm.” He then averts his focus to your legs, and he leaves a kiss to your mound.

“Y’not gon let me freshen up, will ya?” You ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

Instead of answering, Elias takes his tongue and trails it from your hole to your clitoris, and you puff out the air you didn’t know you were holding in.

Elias seems to enjoy your reaction, for he then gives you another long lick.

And another,

and another,

and you guessed it, another.

You press your lips together, muting your sounds, and Elias ‘tsk’s at the sight.

He nips a bit of the skin next to your lips, making you choke on your own spit. “Don’t like how quiet you’re bein’.” Elias reprimands you.

“Stop t-teasin’ then,” You manage to huff.

Elias chuckles in disbelief, “Wanted to be gentle, but y’makin’ it hard,” he then lifts you up from the table, and places his back where you once laid. He hooks your legs over the sides of his head, your pussy now inches away from his plump, shining lips.

Elias’ typical, million-dollar smirk is back on his face, but there’s something more sinister behind it—your legs would’ve buckled if he weren’t holding them.

“You’re a whore, jus’ like I said y’were.” His southern drawl makes your stomach twist in knots, despite the familiarity. Before you could get a word out, Elias placed you onto his face.

You mewl at the feeling of his tongue swirling around anywhere, and everywhere.

Your clit, your lips—it was almost as if he were starving.

There was no rhythm, no harmony and contentment, just the actions of a man on a mission.

A mission to make you scream louder than the birds on your farm.

Then, abruptly, Elias leaves a small, yet firm slap to your clit. “Admit it,” he says between licks. “Admit that you’re a whore.” He leaves another slap.

You don’t respond, too caught up in both the pain and pleasure. Your head hangs back and your eyes are clenched shut, and Elias grows impatient.

He removes his mouth from you with a ‘pop’ and almost snarls at you, “Thought I told ya Ion like repeatin’ myself.” He slaps your clit again, this time with more force.

“Okay—Okay! I was bein’ a whore tonight, ‘m sorry!” You cry out as your back arches.

Elias starts to lower you towards his grinning face, and you shiver at the feeling of his cold grillz.

Instead of teasing kitten-licks, Elias sucks at your slit and lets his tongue roam freely, without a care in the world. You writhe and whine on top of him, your body bending back and creating a dull aching sensation.

His advances are relentless, and you have no chances of escaping his grasp; he readjusts his grip as soon as he feels you start to slip away from him. You don’t know whether to clench around his tongue as he fucks you with it, or to cry–you end up doing both, and this continues on for who knows how long.

You’ve stopped counting the number of orgasms you’ve had after the second one–you think–but you think Elias has been keeping track. He’s muttered ‘jus’ one more, sugar’ maybe three times now, and you don’t know how many you have left in you at this point.

After what feels like hours, Elias finally lifts your hips up, allowing you to slide down and straddle his hips with your head resting upon his chest.

The beating sound of his steady heart fills your ear, and you try to match your breathing with Elias’. You feel a vibration as he shakes with laughter. You slightly drag your head up just enough to peek at his face, and he looks down at you with amusement.

“We ain’t done, not yet, peach,” he chuckles breathily at the wave of surprise that washes over your face.

You fumble with your words, “What d’ya mean? ‘L-Lias, I-I’m spent!” You continue to tremble in his arms.

“Y’still talkin’, ain’t ya, sugar?” He scoffs, it’s antagonizing. And before you can utter anything else, Elias flips you around onto the table, so you now lay with your back on the wood once again. Your dress rides down a tad at the sudden movement, and Elias holds your back, lifting you so that he can push your dress up past your breasts.

Elias lowers your back, before leaning peck your nipples. You bite your lip, but quickly let out a moan once he blows air onto your nipples, watching almost menacingly as they harden. One hand tweaks one of your nipples, as the other drags down your rib cage.

His hot, glistening tongue swishes around your tits, as he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

He sucks harshly as you whimper beneath him. One of his hands leaves your body and goes down to his slacks, he unbuttons them with ease without even looking, as he continues to leave hickies on your chest.

He untucks himself from his underwear, and you can’t help but buck towards his cock in anticipation.

“Easy, girl. You’ll get it when ya prove y’deserve it,” Elias mocks, you whine in response.

“I deserve it, more than anybody else–y’know that, ‘Lias,” You plead in hopes of him giving you what you want.

“That right, baby? All this yours, nobody else's?” He challenges, starting to stroke his length.

You squeeze your eyelids together, almost as if you were personally pained by the question.

“Damn right,” You huff as you look at him with a sudden wave of fire blazing through your eyes. Elias scoffs with a mixture of incredulity and mirth.

“Yeah, baby–always been yours. Glad ya finally came to y’senses.” And with that, Elias pushes inside of you, and you let out a broken gasp.

Elias quickly finds his pace as he thrusts in and out of you rapidly. He nearly pulls entirely out of your dripping cunt–and you think he’s going to tease you again, but he then slams back into you roughly, making you cry out as your back arches into him.

You’re now chest-to-chest with Elias as he continues to pump into you with little regard to your overstimulation. The contact of skin makes your toes curl in your heels. Elias grunts at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock and bites forcibly at the flesh of your neck.

Elias groans–almost as if fucking you were the key to heaven’s gates. He takes his large palm and pushes it down onto your torso, making your sweating body meet the barely-covered, rumbling wood.

You weep helplessly and squirm as he keeps you pressed against the shaking table.

“Mmnf–”Lias! Please!” You cry yet again, but without knowing the reason behind it this time.

He doesn’t respond to your watery blabbering, instead putting your legs on either side of his shoulders. Elias slowly–and almost lovingly–kisses your ankle, before unclasping the latch of your heel and sliding it off of your foot, letting it hit the floor with a thump that neither of you seem to catch through the sounds of your bodies meeting.

You two damn-near become one.

He repeats his actions on your other leg, but this time he kisses from your calf to your ankle before removing your heel and letting it meet the ground with your matching one.

His hand grips at the ankle he just kissed, using it as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded; like an anchor. He then sucks and nips at your leg, quickly marking just above your ankle with a red bruise, which you know will be purple by the time the sun rises for morning.

You hiss when he bites a little too roughly, and he shows his sympathy by licking at the irritated skin, soothing the tender ache.

“That feel good, darlin’? Tell “Lias how much y’love it, peach, c’mon,” Elias coos, lifting his shirt up so he can get a proper view of your sex.

You babble through sobs intelligibly, mewling something along the lines of ‘so so good, ‘Lias!’—at least that’s what Elias makes of it.

“Can’t hear ya, baby. Ya gotta–fuck! Ya gotta speak a ‘lil louder f’me, hm?” Elias manages to speak through his panting and groaning. You bawl, hot tears dripping from your cheeks down to your chin.

“It feels so good–oh god—‘Lias!” You shriek, not caring about the volume of your crying. “Please don’t stop! Please, please, please–” You ramble with a slur.

If Elias ever felt guilty at the way he man-handling you, seeing your fucked-out expression made all his worries wash away at the sight of you: tongue hanging out, as your tears dribble into your open mouth.

Your panting grows more frantic, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s being let out more frequently as you feel another orgasm course through your veins. “‘Lias—cummin’! S-sh-it, I-I’m cummin’!”

Elias firmly plants his feet on the floor, repositioning the arm on your stomach onto your other leg so that he can fuck you even deeper–deep enough to create a slight bulge in your stomach with his throbbing tip. “Yeah, that’s it. Fall apart on this dick, y’know y’want to, sugar. Been dreamin’ ‘bout it f’years, huh?” He taunts.

You try to answer him, honestly! But he’s hitting your cervix just right and his abs rub against the backs of your thighs–it’s too much.

Elias thought you’ve learned by now that he doesn’t take silence for an answer, so to remind you, he gives your spent cunt a more forceful slap than before.

“Fuck—Yes! A-always been wantin’ you, ‘Lias,” you wail. “I-I never let nobody touch me! Nobody but you!” You exclaim without thinking.

This fuels Elias to quicken his pace; he almost fucking growls at your words, and he tightens your legs around himself–right now, as he feels himself getting closer and closer to climaxing, he has no plans on pulling out.

He continues to heave words of encouragement as fucks you ruthlessly through your orgasm.

You moan and blabber as your vision turns white, and your ears start to ring. Your toes curl and flex, and your nails scratch at the table, hands desperate for something to hold. Your voice then gives out, as your tongue lolls out of your mouth yet again.

Elias gives you a few more earth-stattering thrusts, before his seed fills your puffy, aching hole; the guttural groan that leaves his throat ups in pitch–nearly turning into a whimper.

He pumps his cum into you once more, before releasing your legs from his grip and laying down on top of you. As he half-lays-half-stands against the table, he feels as if a cold bucket of water was dumped onto him.

He can no longer focus on the tingling feeling that shoots from his skull to his toes, but now on the fact that he was the first man you’ve been with.

You spent your first time with him–in a rickety building he bought from a Klan member, on an even dingier table.

Elias then taps your face, just enough to get you to come back to your senses. You open your eyes with a lazy grin at the feeling of his seed mixed with yours, but when you’re met with his panicky expression, you quickly push yourself up–to the best of your ability.

“What? Wha’s wrong, ‘Lias?” You question worrisomely.

He allows himself to catch his breath before speaking, “Y’serious?” It’s all that he says.

You furrow your brows and tilt your head at him, “Bout what? Y’scarin’ me, Elias,” you chuckle awkwardly.

Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

A million thoughts run rampant throughout your mind.

“‘Bout all this,” he flails his hand, motioning to where your bodies had just met. “Was that really ya first time?” He speaks loudly, and you feel mortified.

Your breath catches in your throat. You confirm his worries, your voice softer than a freshly picked feather, “Yes.”

Elias takes a step back, and it takes everything in you not to reach out for him. Instead, you sit up fully and push your dress back down to your thighs. You twiddle your thumbs idly, seeking for even an ounce of comfort as Elias pushes his shirt back down and tucks himself back into his boxers after wiping himself off with a rag. Despite his glowering, he hands you a rag so that you can wipe away the slick from between your thighs.

Did he regret spending the night with you? Did he find the fact that you remained a virgin because of him embarrassing?

“Why you ain’t tell me, girl?” He exclaims, “I wouldn’t have said and done all that foolishness if I knew you ain't never been with a man before!”

You feel your soul come back into your body. “You would’ve been all sweet with me? That whatcha sayin’, ‘Lias?” You can’t help but giggle.

“Ain’t nothin’ funny, woman! I was all rough with you ‘n–” You cut him off with a kiss to his lips, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer to you. You fold your arms around his neck, and you feel his hands drift down to your waist and squeeze lightly. Your nose nudges his, his breath fans your face as yours does his.

You break the kiss when you feel yourself losing your breath, and you gaze at Elias lovingly.

“You were perfect, I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” you whisper.

“Well for starters, could've gotten you a bed in the house ‘stead of a table in this dark ass room,” Elias grumbles.

You grin, “I think the lightin’ was just fine. Added ambience ‘n all that.” Elias pouts, and you peck his lips.

“I don’t care ‘bout the details, “Lias. Long as it was with you.” Your tone is as sweet as the finest honey in Clarksdale, and it pulls on Elias’ heartstrings.

“Y’really waited all these years….For me?” He whispers.

“Course I did, couldn’t imagine bein’ with anybody else.” You speak just as softly. You recognize the guilt that crosses his face, despite his best efforts to mask it with his bravado. “Don’t feel guilty, please. I don’t blame you for nun.” You caress his hair. Silence fills the room as Elias deciphers what to say, you just hold him tenderly until he’s ready.

“I-I love ya, more than y’know, sugar…” He trails off before finishing his sentence, “I jus’ want ya to know that. I have since we was young.” He looks at you with adoration and love in his eyes.

“I love you too, Elias Moore. Have since you stood up to my daddy on his farm f’me when we was seven.”

He smiles, but it’s tight lipped, making you frown. “Jus’ wish I could’ve admitted it sooner. Then this would’ve went down differently—would’ve been better.” He sulks.

You take your thumb and index finger and pluck his lips, making him shout ‘hey!’ with a laugh.

“Stop beatin’ y’self up, Elias. I told you, I’m perfectly happy here, right now. Ain’t nun gon’ change that a bit.” You scold him.

“If ya stop all that moppin’, I’ll let ya try again tomorrow, however y’want,” you giggle mischievously. Elias’ eyes light up almost immediately, the way he perks up reminds you of a puppy that was just given a treat.

Elias roars with laughter and squeezes you, before lowering you back down onto the table, he presses nearly all of his weight onto you.

You squeal and cackle as he tickles your sides, “‘Lias!”

You lay wrapped up with Elias, you felt as if you could lay there forever, and honestly in this moment, you wanted to.

Clarity and revelations do the body good.

Everything was good.

Until you heard a commotion on the other side of the door.

"a war that will be resolved quickly with the help of a dragon. when daemon went to the stepstones it was resolved rather quickly," he said.

"he was gone for months, jace. and you're not him, and vermax isn't caraxes," you reminded. "all i'm asking is to be careful. remember that you have a girl back home waiting for you."

"how could i forget? you're the most beautiful girl in all of westeros, it'd be difficult to forget you," he said with a widening grin as he pulled you in for another kiss. you smiled into it, hands sliding up to his shoulders as he held you tightly. "i'll talk to my mother when i return. i promise." he kissed you again. and then when he pulled back, he winked. "and your hand will be mine." he pressed his lips to yours even more firmly than before.

when he pulled back you noticed the dragon pit guards looking awkwardly away from you both and you let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "i'll be looking forward to it. but now, you need to go. lord borros is waiting for you."

"i'll write if i can," he promised.

"i will too," you answered. "be safe."

"i'll be better than that - i'll be victorious."

his laugh echoed behind him as he mounted the green dragon he was bonded to, the agile thing chirping as you offered them both a wave. he winked before taking off into the clouds, headed straight for the narrow sea.

you let out a deep sigh, spinning the ring on your middle finger as you watched him disappear into the sky.

"you know it's your last time you'll see him like that, huh?" your handmaiden asked with a sad frown as she looked at you.

your eyes snapped to hers, brows knitted tightly. "what do you mean?"

her eyes widened. "that's just what everyone around the grounds has been saying. that he's headed to help win lord borros' favor to wed his eldest daughter. apparently there have been talks."

"that's ridiculous. we're practically betrothed, my father would never allow it," you answered, waving the suggestion away.

"your father isn't here, my princess," she said quietly. "but lady elenda and their daughters are arriving in a fortnight, as you know. it seems as though princess rhaenyra wants the alliance."

"what need do we have of the baratheons?" you asked, shaking your head even as your brows furrowed further. "this is a nonsensical idea. jace and i have been set to be betrothed for years."

"it's just a rumor, your highness," she said, volume dropping even more.

"yes," you said, glancing up at the skies once more. "just a rumor."

the baratheons arrived only days after jace's departure in order to stay safe from the chaotic rebellion on their homeland and you were surprised to not be called to treat with them. rhaenyra insisted there was "no need" for you to bother yourself with the formalities.

apparently, they would not be staying long.

you were walking with baela when you were approached by a courtier you knew was a lover of gossip.

"is it true?" he asked with a tilt of his head and an interested smile. "is your almost-engagement off?"

you raised your brows. "funny. no, it's not."

"rumor has it it's going to be," he told you, tsk'ing his tongue as he shook his head. "the baratheon girl - cassandra - she's a beauty. dark haired like our prince with glittering gold eyes. fit for royalty."

"you cannot announce such implications like that to your princess," baela said with a glare. "off with you. the baratheon girl will leave and y/n will remain. and if you anger her more it will be your pain."

"as you wish, my princess," the man said with a slight bow, though his smile remained ever so slightly on his lips.

"ridiculous," she scoffed as he went on his way.

you hesitated as the four baratheon sisters rounded the corner, all strikingly beautiful in their own ways - in ways completely opposite you. the oldest, cassandra, held herself high, poised, proper in every way as her sisters giggled about her. "is it, though?"

baela followed your eyes before scoffing again and slapping your arm. "it is. you two have been head over heels for each other as long as i can remember. father and rhaenyra are betrothing you. those arrangements are set in stone."

"except they aren't. and father is not exactly in rhaenyra's good graces currently."

"she's not cruel," she told you. "she will not take out her frustrations with our father on you. or jace. he loves you, and she knows that."

your eyes remained on cassandra for far too long until you both finally turned the opposite corner and you let out a breath. "right."

you were surprised when you received your first raven from jace a few weeks later, not entirely sure if he'd be able to get one out to you.

my love,

i finally understand how the stormlands got their name. vermax hasn't taken well to the constant wind and rain, but we've managed to calm the fight a decent amount. i'm certain i'll arrive home soon.

lord borros has been kind with me, though he is a rather gruff man. he trusts my judgment and allows me to make my own moves with vermax, which i appreciate. we've worked well together and i see us continuing to be powerful allies in the future.

i hope you're staying entertained without me. i wish you were here. well, i don't wish you were actually here, but i wish i could see you. i miss you.

have you spent time with the baratheon girls? lord borros insists his eldest is a wonderful girl, as does my mother. i hope you've found a friend in her.

i'll try to be home soon.

i love you.

jace

you gripped the parchment tightly, eyes scanning the lines about borros and cassandra nearly a dozen times before you finally rested it against the desk again.

his mother spoke to him of her. lord borros was speaking of her even in times of war and rebellion.

perhaps there was an element of truth to the rumors.

but jace loved you, you knew that. rhaenyra would respect that, or at least you hoped.

luke's approach was quick and his brow was furrowed as he looked down at you. "my mother has been speaking with lady elenda in the war room all morning."

"what?" you wondered.

"she's asked to see you," he continued with a heavy breath.

"me?" you repeated with wide eyes.

"you. now."

you stared at him a little longer as his brows fell into a sympathetic gaze before finally moving around him and heading towards the princess' rooms. as you walked, you spotted the younger three baratheon girls giggling their way to the gardens and then when you were outside the hallway there was cassandra and elenda.

when they spotted you they both fell into instantaneous curtsies, cassandra's head dipping lower than her mother's as she spoke: "your highness."

"the princess is waiting for you," lady elenda said as she rose, looking back towards the doors.

you didn't answer, nodding instead to the both of them and passing them by in favor of rhaenyra's rooms. you heard elenda begin whispering to her daughter but you just kept moving forward, the guards pulling the doors open upon your arrival.

you immediately fell into a deep curtsy, silvery white hair falling in front of your eyes before you raised again.

"you called?" you asked as they shut the doors behind you, eyes immediately falling on the princess seated at her desk.

she looked up at you, eyes softening as a smile pulled at her lips. "my girl, how are you?"

you raised your shoulders and mustered a hesitant smile, still uncertain of what this conversation was going to lead to. "i'm well, thank you. and you, your highness?"

she let out a breath through her nose, smile tightening before she nodded. "i'm fine, yes. thank you, darling."

your eyes roamed the room, hands clasped in front of you as protocol called for.

"what was it that you needed?" you asked when your gaze fell back on her.

rhaenyra stood then, rounding the desk to lean against the front of it and eye you intently, letting out a breath as she mulled over her words. "i need to speak to you about jace."

"is he alright?" you asked instantly, taking a step towards the princess. "he wrote to me a few days ago. has something happened since then?"

"he is perfectly alright," she said, holding her hands out as she shook her head. "he is fine. but, there has been much conversation about him and his future. lord borros is impressed with him."

you paused before speaking. "that's wonderful."

"it is. i think we will end this rebellion with much stronger ties to the baratheons than before," she said.

"i'm sure he's grateful for jace's aid."

"eternally. lady elenda speaks well of him too."

"they've met?"

rhaenyra's eyes were intense as she watched you and you quickly schooled your features so you didn't come off as offensive as you assumed you'd looked previously.

"briefly, when you all were children you were introduced. i believe she once wished her daughter to be wed to him. she's always sought a tie to the throne," she hummed, still watching you closely.

"many do," you answered, rubbing your right thumb over the top of the left in a fit of developing nerves. "i'm grateful you and my father betrothed us when you did."

"yes, we certainly ended those possibilities early," she said.

you held your breath for a moment, trying to bite your tongue as best you could and suppress the little voice within you that resembled your father's.

rhaenyra was still smiling, so you tried to keep yours afloat too.

"are you worried that lady elenda is still set in her previous plans?" you asked her carefully. "it is odd she hasn't found a match for cassandra. she's been of age for a few years now, has she not?"

"yes, she has," she answered. "and i agree that it is odd. i am not entirely sure of her intentions, but she and her husband are quite... stubborn individuals. and very self-interested. if i am to be honest with you, my dear, i'm worried for our standing even after the end of this whole ordeal."

"even after jace practically rescues them?"

"even then."

and then you couldn't help yourself, you had to know. "are you considering dissolving our betrothal in order to secure their support for you as queen?"

the silence that followed was thick.

rhaenyra was a thoughtful woman, and her eyes remained heavy on yours as she went over her words.

it caused your heart to quicken, realizing her silence as your answer.

if she hadn't been considering it she would've denied you by now. but, she hadn't. she was still thinking it through.

"the baratheons are much better as allies than foe," she decided. "it would do us good to secure our alliance with them."

"by putting their daughter on the iron throne next to jace just like they want?" you wondered with wide eyes before you caught yourself. you stood straight and stepped back as her face fell, reaching an arm out to stop you. "we've been betrothed for a decade."

"i know. sweet girl-"

"i'm in love with him," you said, stepping back further as she pushed off the desk and moved towards you. "and he's in love with me. you need to know that before you make whatever agreements and alliances you need to."

"darling," she sighed. "i cannot promise anything. this is politics. this is our lives, you know this."

"i do. i've heard my father's lectures on the importance of strong matches and sturdy alliances, which is why i'm not fighting you on it. i just need you to know what you're breaking before you break it," you said, voice as strong as it could be even as you reached for the handle. "let me know if he sends word."

she nodded, lips downturned as she watched you pull the door open. "i will."

"i'll see you at supper." and then you were gone.

the air of dragonstone shifted after that conversation. other than baela, luke, and rhaena, everyone had begun treating you different. the maids and guards and lords and ladies watched you with a sort of sadness, an odd sort of pity that made you want to crawl out of your skin or slap someone.

and they'd become more attentive to the baratheon girls.

lady elenda, you learned, was a boisterous woman who loved to speak about her daughters. namely cassandra. she'd show the servants her newest stitchings or announce how lovely she was with words, begging the girl to recite a poem of her own writing.

she did it morning noon and night.

at first, rhaenyra smiled and nodded as expected, clapping at the end of the poem or gasping at the beautiful new stitching.

the ladies of court were just as supportive, and so were the servant girls who would be in the room at the time.

baela would just scoff and roll her eyes, whispering to you: "you'd think she was ten, how excited her mother is that she can stitch."

"don't be rude," you whispered sharply even as a smile pulled at your lips. "maybe she just learned."

baela snorted into her glass, earning a few looks and a wide smile from lucerys and rhaena.

elenda narrowed her brows. "did our princesses have something to share?"

"we were discussing our own stitching projects," you answered. "they're a bit... different than sweet cassandra's, but important nonetheless."

the woman wasn't a fan of you, you figured immediately as her look sharpened more. "and what are your projects, if you don't mind my asking?"

"we make our own riding armor," you told her, leaning back in your chair and sipping your wine quietly as the surrounding individuals who were not from storm's end leaned in with excitement. "our father taught us when we were little. since dragonriding is a dangerous and quite adventurous activity we usually get rips and tears in the fabric, so it's easier to fix them ourselves anyways."

and then you made eye contact with elenda, a half smile on your lips.

"i even made prince jacaerys' for him. i've begun teaching him how to repair them, so i'm sure we'll continue our lessons upon his return since there will be plenty to repair."

cassandra's gaze dropped for a second before it sharpened again - something brittle in her pride, like cracked porcelain. she glanced at her mother before looking to you again.

"that's good of you," she said.

"it's quite impressive," rhaenyra chimed in with a smile your direction. "i am always impressed with the princess."

your smirk softened into a smile and you nodded. "thank you."

it was then that the door burst open and her personal guard came to her side, whispering shortly in her ear. she stood, meeting your eyes.

"jacaerys has returned."

that had the baratheons perking up. elenda grinned. "perfect timing! it'd be lovely for him to reunite with cassandra. it's been ages since they-"

"i think prince jacaerys could do with some rest before socializing," rhaenyra said with a shake of her head and a smile. "perhaps in the morning."

"oh, yes, of course," elenda said as you and the princess began to make your way out of the dining hall. when you passed her, she caught your arm. her fingers pressed into the skin just above your elbow, soft but insistent - like a mother restraining a child. it made your stomach churn. "dear, the princess said he needs rest. you should probably stay here and leave the boy be."

you pulled your arm from her and moved to rhaenyra's side in one swift motion, shaking your head. "he'll want to see me."

and then you both left, leaving elenda and cassandra with wide eyes and slack jaws.

baela shrugged, stabbing a piece of chicken and meeting the baratheon mother's eyes. "she's not wrong."

you raced to jace's chambers with rhaenyra on your heels, pushing the door open with an unmatched urgency.

jace turned immediately, brows raised high before his face lit up and he caught you around the waist, burrowing his face in your hair as he held you tightly. he hummed lowly, pressing a kiss to your neck and shoulder. "hello love."

"seven hells i missed you," you breathed out. you pulled back, hands cupping his jaw by his neck as you looked him over. "you're alright?"

he let out a laugh. "i'm better than alright. i'm victorious."

you rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "good. i'm proud of you, and i'm damn glad you're home."

he pulled you back into his arms, squeezing you tightly. "me too, love."

you only pulled away so that he could greet his mother, sporting a wide smile as usual. "i have a lot to speak with you about, mother. lord borros is a talker."

"i've heard," she said, matching his smile. "you've done well, sweet boy. rest for now and we will speak in the morn."

"no, i'm quite alright," he told her, waving the suggestion away. "if i could speak to you now, that'd be preferable. if you have the time, of course."

rhaenyra looked at you then, like she knew something you didn't before returning her eyes and smile to her son. "yes. i've got the time."

"wonderful," jace said before glancing back to you and reaching for you again. "give me a few minutes and then i'll come find you, yeah?"

"alright," you answered, unsurprised by his desire to get whatever it was he wanted to speak with his mother of over with before fully relaxing. you pressed a kiss to his cheek. "i'll be in my chambers."

"i'll be there in a few minutes," he promised, hand on your cheek as he directed your lips to his for a few seconds before pulling back with a cheeky smile.

"okay," you said, grinning as you backed to the door.

"okay," he answered.

you exchanged a nod with rhaenyra before disappearing into the hallway.

you trusted jace with everything you had. you trusted him more than anyone else in this world - more than your father, or either of the twins, or rhaenyra. you knew he loved you, that much was evident. but, you also knew of his dedication to his mother and the throne that would one day be his own. if she decided to mention potential matches to him you weren't entirely sure which way he would sway.

it was a conversation you would save for later.

after an adequate welcoming home.

"i missed you," you mumbled against his mouth, hands in his hair as he pushed you back into your room and closed the door behind himself. he grinned into the kiss, flicking the lock shut before wrapping an arm around your middle and pulling you into him.

"i missed you too, darling," he hummed, squeezing you tighter as you stepped with him back towards the sofa in front of the fire.

it didn't take much effort to push you onto it, the boy holding himself just barely over you as he shifted his attention from your lips to your neck.

"what'd you speak with your mother about?" you asked, breaths deepening as he bit down gently on a sensitive spot, quickly soothing the bruise with a swipe of his tongue before he pulled away to meet your eyes with the same mischievous grin that had won you over years prior.

"why should i tell you?" he hummed, capturing your lips before you could object, one hand sliding up from your waist to cup your jaw and keep you close.

"because i'm intrigued," you answered, breathing out a laugh as you dodged his next kiss even as he tried to pull you back in. "we had a very interesting conversation the other day, and i'm curious if she mentioned it to you."

he paused, hovering over you as his brows slowly furrowed. "what did you talk about?"

you held his eyes for several moments before breathing out: "you first."

he considered you, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips before he finally pushed off you and sat back against the arm of the sofa, gesturing you to him instantly. you sat up, leaning sideways against the back cushion and reaching for his hand which he immediately allowed you to take.

"i suspect that our alliance with the baratheons is a fragile thing," he began carefully, squeezing your hand absentmindedly. "lord borros is a prideful man. he spoke much of his family and their successes. he made mention of his belief that the baratheons could have been what we targaryens are had they been the ones with dragons."

"but they don't have dragons."

"exactly, and they never will," he answered with a nod. "still, it was slightly concerning to hear. i don't believe he holds true loyalty to my mother or to alicent in regards to our inevitable debate for the throne. whoever will cater to him the most will gain his support."

"his wife seems to function in a similar manner," you told him with a thin smile. "a bit of an obnoxious lady. she's very proud of her daughters."

he perked up a bit at that, as though he just recalled something. "have you met them?"

"her daughters?"

"yes. lord borros said good things. i thought maybe they could be friends to you, given that there aren't many our age on the island."

you breathed out a laugh, shaking your head as you looked down at your joined hands. "no, jace. i don't anticipate any friendships forming soon."

"why?" when you looked up at him he seemed genuinely curious, head tilted and brows furrowed at you. he squeezed your hand. "what makes you say that?"

you looked over his sharp targaryen features that resembled his mother and even your father in some ways, and then the soft pouty lips and dark brunette curls that belonged to his true blooded father. the deep brown of his eyes accented with an amethyst hue, and the perfectly dotted freckles sprayed across his nose.

and strangely, cassandra came to mind.

her delicately waved nearly black locks she braided with purple ribbons and the dots of blush she always applied to her cheekbones. she was a few years your senior and her bone structure showed it - a perfect button nose, high cheekbones, plump lips and a jawline that was defined just enough to be amazingly feminine.

she was an elegant little doe, just as she'd been trained to be. gentle and simple and the right amount of stubborn, unlike her mother.

and you deflated a bit, glancing away from jace to the fire beside you.

"no reason," you finally decided, mustering a small smile. "she just seems content with her sisters, as am i. i'm not desperate for friendship, jacaerys. i'm quite content with baela, rhaena, and luke."

"and me," he said, grinning as he pulled you towards him.

you laughed, nodding slightly and settling yourself comfortably on his lap. "yes, jace. if i've got you, i'm alright. no need for baratheon girls to fill my time."

"ditto," he hummed, hand on your neck again as he guided your lips back to his.

the next day lady elenda forced the two to meet, and neither you nor luke were invited.

"i don't like that woman," you muttered to the younger boy as you both strolled the grounds, hands clasped in front of you.

"neither do i," he breathed out with a shake of his head. "she's been trying to set me up with her other daughter, elliana, and i've reminded her of my betrothal to rhaena nearly a hundred times. i reckon jace is doing the same."

"except he can't," you said, kicking at the pebbles by your feet with a huff. "we're not betrothed."

"you're not?"

"not technically. my father's never actually declared it. your betrothal to rhaena happened before laena's death whereas mine has been left in daemon's hands. and, well, you know how he is."

lucerys watched you for several moments before nodding. "right. either way, i'm sure jace is fending off their advances."

"he'll do his best," you sighed decidedly.

luke's eyes remained on you longer than you appreciated before he opened his mouth to speak again, only cut off by the call of his older brother.

"can i join you?" jace asked as he came to luke's side with a grin.

you looked over at him with a thin smile, shrugging gently. "i'm actually meant to meet rhaena soon. how about you two practice some?"

"you don't want to watch?" jacaerys teased, moving around his brother to rest a hand on your arm.

you breathed out a half a laugh. "as much as i'd love to, i can't. how were the baratheons?"

"cassandra seems kind," he answered with a shrug. "her mother is as you said - very pushy. my mother seemed strangely interested in the whole thing. but, i'm glad to be done with it." he smiled at you. "you sure you don't want to watch us train?"

"i know where to find you if i do," you told him, smiling slightly as you patted his chest before passing him by towards your rooms. you looked to luke. "who knows, maybe rhaena will want to stop by."

the boy flushed red, earning laughs from both you and jace as you left.

"goodbye, love!" jace called, brows furrowed slightly at your swift absence.

you waved over your shoulder and moved quick to your rooms.

that night at dinner things were as they'd been for weeks.

you sat between jace and baela, whispering quiet quips to the latter as elenda began her daily bragging. jace, a virgin to her tales, seemed too interested, which made the baratheon women smile widely.

"that is quite impressive," he said with a nod. "you are quite the poet, lady cassandra."

"why thank you, my prince," the dark haired girl answered, eyelashes too long as she blinked and smiled at your boy. he returned her smile, your heart pounding once in your chest as you looked between them.

it had to be instinct, but your hand went straight to his upper thigh, running from his knee to his inner thigh quick and then slow, which earned his immediate attention.

his eyes were wide and his pupils dramatically dilated as they met yours, head tilted in question as the corner of his mouth lifted and then fell again. his voice was quiet when he spoke: "did you need something, darling?"

"nope," you said, holding your fork with your free hand and poking at the food on your plate. when you looked back at him you smiled sideways. "just missed having you next to me."

he hummed, catching your hand as it slid back up his thigh and holding it there. "i missed this too."

you held his eyes for several moments before flashing a quicker smile, squeezing his thigh, and returning to your plate while bringing your hand back to your own lap.

you glanced up to meet cassandra's frustratingly gold eyes, only looking away to see her mother and rhaenyra stuck in a stare off. baela nudged your side, nodding at the scene before elenda finally cleared her throat.

"prince jacaerys, your mother tells me you're a wonderful dancer," she said, looking to the boy with an expectant smile. "how about you and cassandra indulge a bit? this music is excellent."

for the first time that night, you noticed the music. it was a common tune, the dance that went with it known by nearly all who resided in westeros. you exchanged a look with jace before he swallowed and turned his attention to the black haired woman.

"does lady cassandra dance?" he asked.

"she knows enough, but not as well as you i'm sure," her mother answered. "she could use a teacher as skilled as you, sweet prince."

you cringed, jace's eyes flicking back to you before he nodded. "yes, i'm sure princess y/n and i could demonstrate. it's an easy enough dance-"

"how about you simply dance with cassandra? cut out the middleman, if you would. the princess needn't assist where her assistance isn't needed."

you met her eyes this time, mouth thin and eyes sharp as steel as your features schooled into a look that rhaenyra could only describe as daemon-like. jace reached for your hand, but you pulled away, standing from your seat with an all-too-polite smile and shooting a look to rhaenyra and then to the lady baratheon. "if you'll excuse me."

and then as you stepped away from a watching jacaerys cassandra stood, rounding the table and walking past you to stand opposite the boy. "if you don't mind, my prince, i'd be happy to dance with you."

you heard baela's scoff as you walked away, but you ignored it, and you ignored whatever jace's answer was.

and since he didn't follow you, you had a pretty good idea of what it was.

you didn't have it in you to socialize the next few days, resolving to stay in your chambers instead. baela and rhaena stopped by several times, but you insisted they go about their days.

"tell rhaenyra i'm sick," you said when they first came to fetch you for supper.

"are you?" rhaena asked with a raised brow.

you let out a heavy breath. "to my stomach, rhaena."

jace attempted to see you, but you never opened the door.

"love, open up."

"i'm sick, jace, i don't want to infect you." you pressed yourself against the door so he could hear you, and so he wouldn't try to bang the thing open.

he sighed. "bullshit, open up."

"just let me rest, i'll be out tomorrow."

"darling, honestly-"

"leave me be, jacaerys."

and then, to your utter surprise and disappointment, he did.

it was another day before he returned, skipping the formality of knocking and simply unlocking the door and pushing it open. you shrieked, pulling your comforter over yourself as he locked it behind him. "jace, what are you doing here?"

"why are you being like this?" he demanded quietly, brows knitted and arms crossed over his chest. "i've been gone for weeks and now you won't see me?"

you sighed. "jace, i don't feel well."

"that's shit and you know it too," he said, shaking his head.

you narrowed your gaze, dropping your arms back to your lap. "it's not!"

"you're not sick, y/n."

"i didn't say i was."

"so, what, you don't feel well emotionally? you don't like having me back?" he asked, brows knitted in a way that suddenly made you feel like a terrible person for insinuating such a thing.

"of course i like having you back," you said, groaning slightly. "i just don't like everyone else having you back too. the baratheon ladies to be specific."

"so you avoid me?"

"so i wallow in my pain and acceptance that your mother is going to marry you off to her," you corrected sharply, glaring at him openly now. "and you know it too. our relations with the baratheons are poor because of their pride and the only thing to fix it is to tie them to us permanently. to put one of their own on the throne beside you. you said it yourself, they will not take the side that does not benefit them."

he stared at you, eyes narrowed and jaw locked as he considered his words. "is that what you think?"

"that's what you said," you told him.

"you know what? you're right," he said, stepping towards you and letting one knee rest on the mattress. "that is what i said. because it's true. they won't do anything unless it be for their own self gain. but when did i ever say that that required us to indulge them?"

you sighed, shaking your head. "you didn't, but your mother-"

"i spoke with her," he told you. "she suggested the possibility. she told me that you understood. that you allowed her to make whatever decision was necessary for her throne."

you sat up straighter, shaking your head again. "that's not exactly true-"

"do you want to know what i said?" he asked, tilting his head at you.

you paused, watching him breathe deeply in and out of his nose before nodding. "yes."

"i told her no. i refused the thought." and suddenly your breath was gone. "i told her that she could take anything she wanted from me, my name, my dragon, my crown, but she couldn't take you. i listen to and abide by every rule she puts before me and the one thing i demand in return is you. and still, you avoid me. you need all my attention one moment and disappear the next."

that had you standing in seconds, running a hand through your insanely messy hair as you rounded the bed towards him.

"jace," you mumbled, reaching for him.

"don't," he said, stepping back.

"jacaerys," you said again, grabbing him by the biceps and pulling yourself towards him. one hand slipped up to cup his jaw as a small frown pulled at your lips. "i didn't want to step on your toes. your mother means the world to you and you are loyal to her to the end. i wanted you to make whatever choice was required of you."

"i'm loyal to you first," he whispered quietly, head falling forward to rest against yours, and your heart skipped a beat.

you reached your arms up to wrap around his neck, hugging him tightly to you and he just melted into it, his arms winding around your waist snugly. "i'm yours, jacaerys," you told him, pressing a kiss to his neck. "i'm yours. always."

"good," he mumbled into your hair.

that night you attended supper, brighter than you had been in weeks and clinging to jace's arm like your life depended on it.

when you sat, baela shot you a grin. "i see you two made up."

"he wore me down," you teased, jace rolling his eyes as he pulled your chair out for you. as you sat you felt nearly every pair of eyes on you, and as you glanced towards the head of the table you noticed both rhaenyra and your father, surprisingly, watching you and jace with the slightest of smiles.

"cassandra has written a new poem," elenda said, earning an amusing exchange of exasperated looks between you, baela, rhaena, and luke. jace knitted his brows and smiled at you, tilting his head in interest.

"this is a reoccurring thing," you whispered, squeezing his knee as he nodded in understanding.

"four poems in four days," rhaenrya mused with what you'd deemed her 'political princess smile' and a short nod. "impressive. you must have a lot of time on your hands, cassandra."

"enough to work my art," the girl answered, adjusting her posture as her gaze flicked to you. "i know dragonstone is quite busy, but i appreciate the reprieve that the oratory arts offer."

"i'm sure. though, i can't say many of us can relate to this," rhaenyra said, her eyes flicking to you and jace. "we prefer a different sort of reprieve. my future daughter by law, for example, spends many of her evenings in the sky."

"yes, she's told of her dragonriding rendezvous," elenda hummed with a thin smile your direction. "how she created her own uniform."

"she created mine as well," jacaerys added with grin.

"so she mentioned," elenda answered. "though we baratheons do not have dragons, we do our best to stay entertained and experienced."

"i'm sure y/n would be happy to give you an experience with a dragon, should you like," rhaenyra offered, glancing your way with a widening smile.

"her dragon is very eventempered," daemon said. "she claimed him when she was only ten and one. vermithor, the bronze fury."

cassandra's eyes widened. "oh! well, i've no need to ride a dragon. i'm quite content with my poems."

daemon snickered into his glass as he took a sip. "not as brazen as your father, are you?"

you breathed out a laugh, thankful for your father's sudden but welcomed return.

"i'm sorry," baela said, turning to rhaenyra with knitted brows and a wicked smile. "did i hear you correctly? did you call her your future daughter by law? are they getting married?"

it was then that lady elenda and her four daughters caught on as well, cassandra looking to the younger three with knitted brows as they looked to their mother.

"oh, yes," daemon said, sitting back in his seat. "we were going to announce that. yes, prince jacaerys will be wedding my daughter."

"when?" cassandra asked quickly, her eyes widening like she hadn't meant to say what she did.

"as quickly as possible," jace answered, holding your hand beneath the table and grinning. "i've been waiting years to call her my wife. i have no desire to wait any longer."

elenda was staring daggers at rhaenyra, whose eyes remained on her plate despite the growing smile to her lips.

"congratulations," cassandra managed, offering you the simplest of smiles.

you nodded, squeezing jace's hand and smiling widely. "thank you."

"well, i meant to announce tonight that we are leaving back to storm's end on the morrow," elenda said with a nod. "now that the rebellion is complete we are safe to return."

"yes, we're very lucky that prince jacaerys sped that up for you all so you could go home," you said, maintaining your smile. elenda narrowed her eyes.

"yes. thank you, prince jacaerys."

the boy lifted a glass of wine to his lips with a grin, nodding. "anytime."

eventually, rhaenyra steered the conversation elsewhere, though you and jace maintained your own semi-privately with your knees brushing and hands clasping whenever there weren't forks in them.

"thank you," you whispered to him as you gazed up with a smile. "for choosing me."

he shrugged, nudging your foot with his own. "there wasn't ever really a choice."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

Armin, who sat down at the little table across from Eren with his muffin, fruit, and eggs, could tell that his best friend was upset by the way he stirred his own scrambled eggs around on his plate, but not actually eating them.

“Don’t worry,” Armin looked up at his friend after taking a sip of his orange juice—Armin loved hotel orange juice, and Eren hated it—and the blue-eyed boy flashed a reassuring smile. “We’re going home tomorrow, so you’ll get to see her soon.”

“Yeah,” Eren mumbled.

“Maybe you could FaceTime her before we leave for the day,” Armin suggested. After all, jet skiing and scuba diving were on the agenda, and he truly wanted Eren to enjoy it.

“I already talked to her twenty minutes ago,” Eren sighed, slouching back in his chair. “It only made me miss her even more. She has a new hairstyle and everything.”

“Eren,” Armin slowly chewed on a strawberry as he blinked. “It’s only been a few days.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eren pinched the bridge of his nose, and that’s when Connie and Jean joined them at their table.

“Guess what,” Connie grinned, placing two packed plates of food on the table. “They said we can sit here and eat as long as we want even after they stop serving breakfast, but we just can’t go back for seconds.”

“Connie grabbed every fucking thing he saw,” Jean frowned, grabbing a seat next to Armin.

“Hell yeah,” Connie picked up a grape, tossing it at Jean’s head. “So don’t be shy, grab whatever you want and eat up!”

“Don’t throw the grapes,” Armin said. “They’re delicious, so try not to waste them.”

“Loosen up, will you?” Jean frowned, breaking his hash brown into pieces before diving right in.

“I’ll loosen up once I know everything’s going according to plan,” Armin paused. “I mean, someone has to make sure we’re on schedule. It’s our last day here, so if we miss something, we won’t get another chance to do it.”

“The hell does that have to do with throwing grapes?” Connie said, earning a laugh from Jean.

Jean ruffled Armin’s blonde hair. “Don’t worry, we know you love the beach. We’re not gonna miss anything, alright? So just relax.”

“Right,” Armin smiled softly, “sorry.”

For a moment, everyone ate their food and engaged in somewhat polite chatter about today’s planned events.

“Alright, so we have our entire morning and afternoon planned,” Jean paused. “What are we doing tonight?”

Armin took that opportunity to bring the one silent member at their table into the conversation.

“Eren, is there anything you wanna do?”

“Yeah. Pack.”

And with that, Eren left the table, tossing his uneaten food in the garbage before heading back to the hotel room.

“Damn it, Connie,” Jean frowned. “I told you to let the guy bring his girlfriend.”

Connie tossed his arms up defensively, swallowing his food before he said, “go to Hell.”

—

As the day went on, Eren managed to have a bit of fun with his friends. Even so, as he swam with colorful fish and zoomed across the sea, a tingle of pain would shoot through his heart whenever he remembered that you weren’t with him, experiencing all of the bucket-list worthy adventures by his side.

As the group headed home in Jean’s SUV, Eren sat in the backseat besides Connie. He pressed his head against the foggy window, looking out at the orange streetlights passing by.

“Eren,” Connie fought back a laugh, pulling his phone out to record the pouting man. “Why are you acting like you’re in a R&B music video right now?”

“Shut up, Constance.” Eren effortlessly tossed his hand out and smacked Connie’s tattooed arm.

Connie quickly ended the recording.

“I’m gonna drop Eren off first,” Jean said, gripping the steering wheel as he made a left turn, “I really think he might die if he doesn’t get to Y/N soon.”

“Turn left again,” Armin said, directing Jean from the passenger seat. “But guys, leave him alone. Y/N’s lovely. None of us can understand what he’s going through because the three of us are single.”

“Thank you, Armin,” Eren said.

Eren folded his arms across his chest, continuing to sulk like a kid who just had their favorite toy taken away.

But, once Jean turned down a familiar street, the depressed man instantly perked up.

“You’re grinning like a toddler, dude,” Connie teased, but Eren ignored him, gripping the door handle tightly.

Jean tugged on his hat, slowing down as he pulled up in front of your home. However, before Jean could come to a complete stop, Eren started to jump out of the car.

“Eren! Be careful!” Armin warned as Jean slammed on the brakes. His warning was utterly useless, as Eren was already halfway through your front yard by the time the words fell from Armin’s lips.

“You forgot your bags!” Jean shouted, rolling down his window. “Didn’t shut my damn door, either.”

Suddenly, you opened your front door, having heard all of the commotion outside. And when you smiled, all of Eren’s friends could easily see why he was so in love with you.

Eren nearly knocked you over once he finally made it into your arms, a big smile spreading across that beautiful face of his. He showered your forehead and cheek with kisses as he inhaled your comforting scent.

“I missed you so much,” he said.

“I can tell,” you teased, hugging the tall man back. “I missed you too.”

He pulled away from the hug only to cup your face with his large hands. He kissed your lips softly, melting over the touch he had craved for days.

“I’m not going anywhere without you ever again. I don’t care if it’s the grocery store or to the living room,” Eren mumbled against your lips, and you giggled softly.

“Hey!” Jean suddenly honked his horn. “You’ve seen her, now come get your stuff!”

“In a minute,” Eren shouted back, flipping the driver off.

He just had to stare at that gorgeous face of yours for a few more minutes, and who could blame him? He was madly in love with you.