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astarionslittletreat · 7 months

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Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong.

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.”

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm.

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.”

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good.

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips.

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg.

You curse.

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being.

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

*************************

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.”

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.

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golden-cherry · 3 months

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deal - cl16 (21/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The truth comes under purple skies.

Warnings: angst, but mostly tooth rotting fluff because you deserve it

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

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A/N: a little late happy birthday to me! sorry for the wait. I love you.

Although you keep your eyes closed, you know that it is still dark outside.

The air in the room is cool against your face, while your tired body is kept comfortably warm under the heavy comforter. It is just as warm against the free, uncovered parts of your body as Charles' soft skin.

His arm is wrapped around your middle, his fingers are tightly intertwined with yours and his thumb strokes gentle circles over your hand. A tender, loving gesture that you're not sure whether it's meant to calm your nerves or his own.

You haven't changed your positions in bed since you fell asleep pressed tightly together a few hours ago. Charles's chest is still pressed against your back and if you were to focus on it, you could certainly feel his heart beating hard and steady. But you don't. Your thoughts revolve around breathing as normally as possible so that it still looks like you're asleep.

You don't want to be awake.

Being awake would involve thinking, and you definitely don't want to think about the last few days. You don't want to think about how Charles told you that you would jump into bed with Lando at the next opportunity. You don't want to think about Raphael coming to your front door last night and calling you a whore. And you don't want to be reminded that Charles jumped to your side and defended you without so much as batting an eye.

All you want right now is to lie here, in his strong arms, wrapped in his scent and warmth. Deep down, you know you can't be angry with him. Lando's words flit through your head again and again about how you both want to protect each other, and even though you've only known each other for a few days, you can tell Charles so well that it's exactly this part of him that makes him who he is.

But you still don't know why he treated you like that.

You breathe in deeply, take in his scent - a mixture of sandalwood, peppermint and a smell that you can only describe as Charles - and press your face into the soft pillow. Although you had been furious with him, you had missed his closeness over the last few days.

The thumb that has been tenderly drawing figures on your hand pauses.

"I'm sorry." Charles' voice is little more than a whisper against your shoulder blade. As his warm breath brushes over you, your muscles tighten. "No apology in this world can make up for what I did to you. I betrayed your trust, hurt you, and left you thinking I didn't care about you." When you don't answer him, he continues. "I am so incredibly sorry. And I won't ask for your forgiveness or kindness, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. And I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you."

Your heart beats so fast against your ribcage that you fear it will break your bones and jump out of your chest. His touch feels like your skin is burning. When you open your eyes, you see purple clouds in the morning sky through the window.

Carefully, you turn in his arms, whereupon his embrace loosens a little, but his arm remains on your hip. His eyes are closed, as if he doesn't dare to look into your face. His eyebrows are furrowed and there are a few wrinkles between them that you would love to smooth out with your fingers.

You decide to run your fingers over his bare shoulders. His muscles twitch under your fingertips. "Why did you do it?" Charles remains silent, so you tentatively place your hand against his cheek. You feel his stubble scratch your skin as he exhales deeply, as if he hasn't taken a decent breath in a long time.

He opens his eyes and there is an anxious gleam in the otherwise beautiful green. His gaze searches yours as he nuzzles his face against your hand. "I was jealous."

Jealous?

A small glimmer of hope flares up inside you. Maybe everything you've experienced together - the viewpoint, your movie night, the bookstore, the tiramisu - is based on something other than friendship. On something more. Maybe there was more to every conversation, every look and every smile than just the friendship you nailed down to protect your heart. Maybe you were just talking past each other the whole time. Maybe –

"I was jealous of how well you got on with Lando. I thought that if you got to know each other better and became more than just friends, then we wouldn't be friends anymore. I thought -" He pauses for a moment. "I couldn't bear it if I lost you because of your relationship."

You try to suppress the punch in the pit of your stomach and swallow the frog in your throat. "You hurt me and pushed me away because you didn't want to get hurt yourself?" Your heart breaks a little for him. You finally smooth out the wrinkles between his eyebrows with your thumb. His arm wraps around you tighter and presses you together. His fingers stroke your back and goose bumps spread across your body.

That's exactly what Lando said. That Charles pushes the people he cares about away to protect himself. Something you can well understand, after all, you were planning to do the same to him. Only not so drastically.

But Lando also told you something else about the Monegasque. "But that's not all, is it?" An image flickers in your mind's eye of Raphael holding out his hand to introduce himself to Charles. "You didn't just want to protect yourself. Or am I wrong, Charles Leclerc?"

As you say his name, a shiver jerks through his body, as if he's suddenly cold, and his hand freezes against your spine. "You're not." His tone is cooler, more distant than it was a few moments ago, and the tension in the room is palpable despite the purple clouds and morning calm as you place your hand on his bare chest. His heart is beating fast and strong.

"I - I think we both rushed into this friendship far too quickly." You try to put as much warmth into your whisper as you can, even though deep down your heart has caught quite a tear. "We've known each other for five days. And so much has happened in that time that takes some friends years. Our trust in each other went from zero to one hundred." You run your finger over his collarbone, your gaze following him.

Panting, he sucks air into his lungs at your touch. "What do you suggest?"

You purse your lips. "Maybe - maybe we should get to know each other better first. Get to know each other properly so that this doesn't happen again. So that our living together is easier."

Charles tightens his grip around your middle, his legs tangle with yours. "Living together? Does that mean you're staying with me?"

You nod slightly, but grab your arm with your hand to pull away from him. Something flits across his face, but as quickly as it came, it's gone again as you place his hand between your faces on the pillows. "But maybe a little distance will do us good. So we don't mess this up."

His fingers interlace with yours. "I'll do everything I can to make this work."

"That makes two of us," you smile, missing his touch on your body. You miss the warmth pulsing through your veins under your skin. But it's the right thing to do. At least that's what you try to tell yourself. You take a deep breath. "I - I'm unemployed, by the way." You look down at your hands. "I was fired from this magazine before we met. I'm looking for a new job so that I can continue to live in Monaco, because my savings won't last forever. That's why I'm so grateful to you for standing up for me with Joris. About the rent. I can't thank you enough for that."

"But you don't have to," he replies quietly. "Friends help each other. They're there for each other. I can understand why you didn't tell me. Nobody likes to talk about the fact that they've recently lost their job."

"Thank you," you whisper back. You feel a weight fall from your shoulders. You suddenly find it easier to breathe. But now it's something else that's plaguing your thoughts.

And no one but Charles can give you the answer. "Can you please explain to me what happened yesterday? With - with Raphael?"

The Monegasque briefly lets go of your hand so that he can play with your fingers. He doesn't look at you. "Do you remember the night we watched Cars together?"

You nod. How could you forget that night? The wine, the movie, the flirting that apparently wasn't flirting. Ouch.

"We talked about Formula One and how you used to watch it with your grandfather when Michael Schuhmacher drove for Ferrari." His gaze is literally glued to your fingers. "When we first met, I told you that my work had something to do with cars, and I wasn't lying."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. If he's a mechanic or engineer for one of the racing teams, that woiuld explain why he has to travel so much for work. "Is that where all the cool photos on your phone come from? Because you fly across the globe with Formula 1 to work on the cars?"

Your flatmate purses his lips. "I don't work on the cars. I - I drive them." He licks his lips once. "I'm a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari."

"Don't fuck with me," you reply, wanting to pull your fingers out of his grasp. But he holds on to them and when he lifts his gaze and looks you in the eyes, you know he's telling the truth. And his confession makes you see the last few days from a different perspective.

The conversation between Charles and Joris, shortly after he suddenly appeared in the apartment, pops up in your mind. "When we met, that night - you were on the phone with Joris. You said something about headlines."

He nods slightly. "A few weeks ago, the season ended and Annika and I broke up. I stayed away from here as long as I could because I didn't want to be confronted with it. And when I got to my apartment for emergencies, there you were. With a valid tenancy agreement. I couldn't just throw you out the door. You could have gone public and then it would have made the headlines. Something like "Charles Leclerc throws poor woman out of rented apartment". It was a risk I couldn't take." He furrows his eyebrows again, but this time you hold back.

"You have a nutritionist."

Again he nods. "For the races, I have to follow a strict diet to make the car go faster. Unfortunately, pasta and thick sandwiches aren't part of it, so please don't tell him."

Fragments of the last few days appear one after the other in your mind's eye, which you try to sort out and work through. "The bistro you went to after the bookshop had already closed, hadn't it?"

"Yes. But when do you ever have a Formula One driver on your doorstep who needs two sandwiches?" He shrugs. "One photo and we've had our dinner."

You lick your tongue over your lips and you don't miss the way Charles' eyes twitch to your mouth. "We went everywhere in my car. Why?"

"You've seen my car." He's referring to the fancy Ferrari in the parking garage. "With its stripes, it's not exactly inconspicuous. Especially since everyone knows the car is mine." He runs his thumb over the side of your index finger. "As soon as the car rolls down the street, everyone knows it's me. And everyone takes photos of it. I couldn't risk you getting caught up in all this because of a stupid car. And especially not because you couldn't choose it until now. Your sweet tin can was the only way we could get around the city together without attracting attention."

You clench your jaw. "The meetings in Italy. What about it?"

"The headquarters are there, in Maranello. Before the winter break, the team wanted to get together again and discuss what went wrong this season and what we can improve."

"And you could just leave like that?" you ask him.

He shakes his head. "Not really. But in my opinion, there wasn't much to talk about either. The season was a throwaway." He shrugs his shoulders. "I was actually a little relieved when Lando called and asked me to go home."

So you were right. The Brit did call Charles. "And what did he say?"

"Exactly what I needed to hear." He smiles slightly. "He threw a lot of swear words at me and made it clear that I'd be the stupidest idiot in the world if I screwed up this friendship."

You don't know what to do with this information. The fact that Lando called Charles and made a slug out of him doesn't bother you much, because the Monegasque needed the push. But there's also something about the fact that Charles didn't come up with the idea of straightening things out himself. That one of his friends had to step in for you first so that he would get off his butt and stand up for this friendship. That Lando -

"What about Lando? And Pierre? And Kika? Are they part of Formula One too?"

Charles purses his lips into a thin line. "Lando and Pierre are also drivers. Kika is a model."

Bile rises in your gullet as you release your hand from his and turn onto your back, closing your eyes. Everyone knew, they even work in the same field, and no one thought to let you in on it. The whole thing could have gone down the drain. People could have recognized you both, taken photos of you and spread the word.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I -" Charles exhales. "I was just scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

"My job - my name - brings a lot with it. A lot of good things, like seeing the world, getting to know cultures and not having to worry about things like money. But there are also negative things, like a lot of pressure, fake friends, no privacy." He also turns onto his back. "I don't want you to choose something you don't want because of my name. I thought - I thought if we stayed in our little bubble, our little world, that - I don't know. It was just nice to have someone as a friend who wanted to be friends with me because I'm Charles. And not because I'm Charles Leclerc."

You have to smile. "Actually, I'm only friends with you so that I can live with you and save on rent."

"Haha."

You clasp your hands behind your head. "I can understand, I think. That you have to be careful who you surround yourself with. And that there are a lot of people who only use you because you're you. It sounds very lonely."

Charles snorts softly. "It can definitely be lonely."

"Then let me assure you that I don't want to be friends with you because of your money or your name."

"But?"

"Do you really need reasons?"

"It certainly wouldn't hurt my ego," you can practically hear his grin.

"All right," you reply. "I want to be friends with you because you're kind and considerate of your friends' feelings. Because you trusted me with your favorite place, even though you didn't know me. Because you introduced me to your friends because you thought it was inevitable anyway if our friendship strengthened." You take a deep breath and exhale. "I want to be friends with you because you're funny and make me laugh. Because you have a big heart. Because -"

A feeling bubbles up inside you. You've felt it before - the day after your movie night, when you were reviewing the evening. In the not entirely innocent dream you had about Charles. And when you shared the bed after the bookshop.

It's warm, like a warm blanket, strong like a good hug and bright like Charles' eyes when the sun shines on his face. Charles is not just your roommate. Or your friend. Charles is so much more. Charles is your home.

Before you can complete the sentence, the Monegasque interrupts you. "That's good. That's good enough for me, thank you." He smiles. "It's nice to have you as a friend. Even if I don't deserve it, the way I've treated you."

"Mm-hmm."

"Maybe you should sleep on it one more night and then decide if you really want it. There's so much more that comes with a friendship with me." When you yawn, he has to laugh. "You see? Maybe you're not even able to think straight right now. And then I push you into a friendship that you don't even want."

"I'm sure," you reply tiredly and you notice how your eyes get heavier.

"But -"

Before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his hand and interlace his fingers with yours. You try to ignore the fact that this makes your heart beat faster. "I'm sure of it. Believe me."

When you gently squeeze his fingers twice, he replies with the same gesture. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Then it's a good thing you don't have to find out," you smile and as you yawn again, Charles pulls you closer to him. Like a magnet, you slide across the bed towards him, unable to resist as your face finds its place against the crook of his neck.

He lets go of your hand, but only to wrap his arm around you. His hand rests on the bare skin of your hip, while his other hand pulls your leg over him so that you're half lying on top of him. You are enveloped by him, fully and completely, and as you place your hand on his bare chest, you feel his heartbeat under your fingertips.

You try to convince yourself that it's not beating for you, but as you snuggle even closer to him and your lips touch the soft skin on his neck, you feel it skip a beat. But maybe you're just imagining it.

"I'll be better from now on," he whispers and tentatively presses a kiss to your forehead. Goosebumps spread all over your body, but not because you're cold like he thinks, which is why his arm presses you even tighter against him. "I don't want there to be another moment when you doubt how important you are to me, mon amour."

"You can teach me a little French," you reply. "Then you can hide less from me if I speak your mother tongue too," you joke.

Charles feels your smile on his neck and he is glad that you can't see the blush on his face.

"Anything you want. I'll go to the other side of the world for you if I have to."

"But not until tomorrow, all right?" You gently caress his chest with your fingertips and Charles draws in a sharp breath. "Now it's time to sleep. And don't you dare steal my blanket in the night."

Charles would love to pull you on top of him, kiss you and promise you that you're safe with him and that he won't let anything happen to you. But he holds back, just lets his fingers dance over your skin.

He promises in the purple morning light. "Deal."

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purple-writer8 · 13 days

Text

Long Story Short - ACOTAR

“And he’s passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. And he feels like home, if the shoe fits walk in it everywhere you go.”

warnings: war, war injuries, past relationship tension, new mating bond, self doubt, angst (but like not a lot), allusions to sex

1.9k words

Part 2 to Closure

Masterlist :)

You fought in the Winter Court battle along with Thesan and the Dawn Court’s Peregryn legion. You were a skilled warrior, trained by Rhysand himself— you used to love training, now you despised those memories.

Looking into the mirror in your bathchamber, you flinched as your fingers grazed over the purple bruises forming on the side of your face. It wasn’t pretty, it was horribly gnarly looking. A Hybern warrior had given you a hard blow to the face, beating you to the ground. If it wasn’t for one of the Peregryn warriors, Thesan would have probably needed to plan a funeral for you.

It was all a blur. One day you were mourning Rhysand and your failed romance, the next you were fighting in a war alongside him and all of the other courts. You had told Azriel that you did not care to make amends, and you meant it. But this was for a greater good.

A soft knock came upon the bathchamber, making you snap out of your haze and exit to find your brother standing there. Thesan looked miserable. Your brother was a protector, ever since you knew reason, and this war— the casualties— took a steep toll on his mental health. “Why are you here?”

He was supposed to be back in the war camp with everyone else. You only left because you did not wish to heal and sleep amongst Feyre and Rhysand. The wounds in your heart still needed time to heal.

“Azriel is hurt.” Thesan looked distraught. You could not explain the way that your heart plummeted at those three simple words. For some reason, it made your heart ache— the thought of Azriel hurt. “It’s his wings. I could not heal them… they are not the same as Callan’s. Will you try?” Thesan asked, and instantly you nodded. Your healing abilities were good, almost as good as his. You could try.

Your brother grabbed you and in a blink of an eye, you were winnowed away.

A chill ran down your spine when you winnowed into Azriel’s tent. He was screaming, Rhysand holding him down as he writhed in the bed— his wings shredded in a horrible manner. You felt yourself freeze, eyes wide— it was like you could feel his pain— and you would do anything to stop it. You would rather take on his pain than let him feel it.

Rhysand was there too, but for the first time ever, you didn’t even glance at him. No, instead you rushed to Azriel, kneeling besides him. There was something in your heart, something that made you strain, that broke you— all because you saw him in pain.

He stopped his thrashing when your hand reached for his face, his hazel eyes widening by the bruise that overtook your own face. “What happened?” He asked, as if he weren’t the one with shredded wings.

“Nothing. I am fine,” you assured him, feeling like he was truly gravely worried for your wellbeing. His eyes remained on you, searching all over your body for more injuries. “I am not the problem, please sit so I can heal you. Please,” you begged him, feeling like you couldn’t breathe the longer you stared at his wings.

He sat up, and you got to work.

You spent all night working on his wings, and by dawn they already looked much better than when you had come in. Azriel had fallen asleep, and he had slept peacefully for many hours all while you watched over him. You did not sleep at all, you were sick with worry.

“Thanks for coming, I know that you took a harsh beating in Winter,” that velvety voice you had once worshipped whispered from the doorway. To turn and see Rhysand there, in Azriel’s tent, made you angry.

You almost wanted to tell him to leave, but you were in no place to make commands. This was still his camp. “I came for Azriel. He doesn’t deserve this,” you responded bitterly and you meant it.

Ever since that talk the two of you had in your balcony, you had become obssesed with the shadowsinger. For some reason, you could not get him out of your head, even in the battle, while killing and fighting— you thought of him. “Well, I thank you. Thesan was drained after the battle and struggled to heal him… when he said you would do it… I doubted,” Rhys confessed, his violet eyes drifting to his sleeping brother.

“You think I am so selfish that I wouldn’t heal him just because he is your friend?” You asked, and you truly tried to reel in your emotions, but they were too strong for you to control. It wasn’t even about Rhys, you realized, it was about him thinking you wouldn’t help Azriel.

“You can sometimes be selfish, yes.” Rhysand shrugged, and you wanted to lunge foward and strangle him for suggesting you were selfish. He was the epitome of selfishness, and here he stood— accusing you after you came and healed his brother.

You had tried avoiding him ever since Thesan told you the Dawn Court would fight alongside him against Hybern. You tried picking your battles, and decided Rhysand was not a battle worth fighting, yet here the battle stood, picking you.

You decided to ignore the dig, your gaze drifting to the still asleep shadowsinger and asking, “how did he get so hurt?”

“He went to save Feyre’s sister from the Hybern camp,” he replied, and you could not explain the jealousy that surged within you at the mention of Azriel saving that girl.

Those freaks of nature bring more harm to Prythian than good, you wanted to tell Rhysand about his mate and sisters, but once more figured it wasn’t a battle worth picking.

A groan escaped the shadowsinger, and instantly you ran to his side, helping him sit up in bed. His facial expression was one of pain, and you knew taht he was trying his best to mask it. But you knew... you felt his pain.

“How are you?” Azriel croaked, his voice more hoarse than usual due to all of the pain filled screams he let out the night before. You scoffed in disbelief, “me?! I am not the one whose wings were torn apart.”

He winced at the reminder, but still his hazel eyes did not leave yours. “You healed me…” he said in the gentlest of tones, making your heart skip a beat. You frowned, wondering why in all of Prythian your heart was thundering inside your chest.

“Will he heal fine?” Rhysan’s icy tone snapped you out of the trance Azriel has you in. You turned to him and nodded, scowling at the High Lord. “He will heal completely but he will not be able to fly for a while.”

Azriel protested, saying how he felt fine. Though one cold glare from you made him sink back down unto the bed. Rhysand noticed this, how you were able to tame down Azriel with just a look. “For how long?” The High Lord asked.

“For a few weeks, at least. For the health of his wings, he can not fight anymore battles…” you trailed, looking at Azriel with a solemn expression. You somehow knew he wanted to fight, to protect his family and Prythian.

“How is Elain?” Azriel asked Rhysand, and you snarled. You had always been a jealous female, but always over Rhys, never over anyone else.

“Fine. Shaken up but fine, everyone is fine… we will be meeting up later today to discuss some things. Join us, Az…” Rhys’ violet eyes shifted to you, “you may as well.”

“Thanks for the permission,” you mumbled sarcastically.

Rhysand stared at you. A cold, unforgiving glare, then soon after you felt those talons you had once adored caressing your mind. He wasn’t looking for a way in, no, he was reminding you who he was— what he could do. You didn’t say anything, only glared at him as he left Azriel’s tent.

A beat passed and you turned to the shadowsinger, “I’ll get you some food.” You were quick to your feet, and before Azriel could protest, out the tent you went.

You didn’t understand your new and— quite blinding— feelings regarding the Night Court’s shadowsinger. You’d known Azriel for almost a century, and you had never cared for him further than for friendship. And now, suddenly, you felt as if you had been stabbed when Rhysand said he had been hurt because he went to save another female.

Was this your mind’s sick way to get over Rhysand? You stood over a pot of rice that boiled on top of a bonfire, filling a ceremic pot you had found with rice and chicken for Azriel.

Azriel. While you swooned over Azriel, some Ilyrian warrior snatched the plate from your hands and walked off. You shouted an obscenity, but the male’s glare made you shrink back into yourself.

Fuck your life. You looked back to the pot that had been cooking and realized that plate contained the very last of the rice and chicken. You couldn’t let Azriel starve.

You groaned and got some more rice from a nearby sack, throwing it in the boiling pot and letting it cook. A yawn escaped your lips as you watched the rice cook, then a few minutes later— it was ready for him. You served him a big bowl and went back to his tent.

You went inside, only to find Azriel squirming in bed, his large wings twitching uncontrollably. You gasped, setting the bowl down and rushing to him. “What happened?!” You shrieked as you tended to him.

“It’s nothing, really. I just stood up too fast,” he tried keeping it cool, but you knew well that he was hurting. You looked up at his face, and you gasped when you felt it.

A mating bond snapping inside your soul. So strong it almost sent you flying to the floor.

“What the fuck?!” You asked in shock, your chest rising and falling in a heratic manner as you stared up at the Ilyrian male. He looked devastated, solemn as he looked at you. “Im sorry…” he whispered, and you frowned.

“Why would you apologize?” You asked, still reeling from the knowledge of who your mate was. “It is disappointing, I know. To be mated to me instead of who you always wanted. If you wish to reject me…”

“Why would I reject you?” You asked in shock, your mind running an entire marathon as you thought about everything that this meant. Azriel was your mate… Rhysand’s brother was your mate. You had known him for ninety years and you never felt the bond, no… because you were in love with someone else before ever meeting him.

“Why would you accept me?” You reeled from his words, and your heart— you could feel it— begged you to accept him.

Because you thought back to the years you lived in Velaris, to your interactions with Azriel and the Inner Circle.

One Winter Solstice, before Under the Mountain, you and Rhysand got into it— and it was bad— one of the biggest fights you had ever had. You had left the townhouse in a hurry, not even putting on your shoes and coat. Rhysand demanded you to come back, his voice thundering in your mind over and over again. You didn’t. You were so mad, you sat in a small Velaris coffee shop— freezing to death— until Azriel appeared.

He held your shoes and a coat. You wondered if Rhysand had sent him, though he hadn’t— because Rhysand was still ordering you back in your mind.

As you recalled the many times Azriel only ever showed you kindness and gentleness, you took the bowl of rice you had made, handing it to him.

His hazel eyes widened in shock. He looked at the bowl, as if it was the most grandiose thing in the world. “You are serious?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle.

“Please eat, Azriel.”

Two Years Later

Losing Rhysand felt like falling off a precipice. Loving Azriel was like climbing right back up that hill. It was absolutely everything. Your mate was… perfection reincarnated. He swooped in. Just when your life could not get worse— he came in and turned it all around.

You never thought in a million years that Azriel would be, could be your mate. You had pined for Rhysand for ninety years for cauldron’s sake. But now… now you only ever thought of your doting mate, of the male that taught you that love could be something beautiful, something that you didn’t have to beg for or ask for. It was given freely, willingly.

You were currently sitting on your bed, preparing the final touches for Azriel’s winter solstice gift. It was already noon, and he had spent the day with his family in the Night Court as you had asked him to. He had wanted to skip his family’s celebration, but you didn’t let him.

Your relationship with the IC was still difficult, you and Rhysand were not yet completely healed from your ninety year tryst— but regardless of that, you never wanted Azriel to push his family away. Even though Rhysand and him had definitely grown apart.

Rhysand didn’t care about the bond, that was what he claimed. But then he grew hostile, and always sent Azriel on long missions— away from the Dawn Court where you resided, or he didn’t let Azriel visit you. He wasn’t jealous, obviously. He had a mate and now a son. Rhysand just did not think you were enough for Azriel.

You hummed a solstice tune as you fixed up the little gift box, and just as you finished it, your beautiful mate winnowed into your room. You squealed, lunging at him and wrapping your arms around his neck, eagerly kissinng him.

Azriel chuckled, “my angel seems happy to see me.” He hugged you back, despite the flowers he held in his beautiful hands. You nuzzled your face into his chest, warmth and love engulfing your senses instantly. Azriel was your home.

He kissed the top of your head as you pulled away. “How was it?” You asked him, watching as he moved to his dresser, carefully discarding all of his leathers. “Good, but would have been better if my angel mate was there,” he groaned the last part, still upset he didn’t spend winter solstice morning with you.

“Your angel mate was preparing your gift and spending the day with Thesan in the village,” you answered in a chirpy manner. You did not care that he hadn’t been there in the morning. All you cared was seeing him, period.

You watched as he changed his leathers into more comfortable clothing, salivating as you ogled the way his muscles flexed with any sort of movement. After he was done, he turned to you, a smirk adorning his handsome face, “ready for your gift?”

“Are you my gift?” You asked excitedly, making him laugh as he grabbed a tiny box from his discarded coat pocket and strided across the room towards you. Cauldron forgive you, but this male was your religion. “No… well… later.” He said, his voice gentle and soothing as always.

His loving arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you closer into his figure. You looked up at him, smiling as he leaned down to engulf you in a passionate kiss. “I go first,” he whispers as he pulls away and hands you the velvety sapphire blue box.

You squealed and opened it to reveal two sets of keys. You smiled, eyeing the pieces of metal before looking up at Azriel with inquiring eyes. “I bought us a house in Velaris… near the hills…” He trailed off.

He eyed you for your reaction and then his wings twitched in excitement, “and a home here, in the city.” At that statement you gasped.

“What?!” You shrieked, eyeing the keys in sheer shock. He had bought two houses?! For you?!

“We can never agree on a place to live. You don’t want me away from my family, and I don’t want you away from your brother. So I figured… we split our time as we wish… I’ve spoken to both Rhysand and Thesan and they have agreed, we can go and come as we please. We get to live together without sacrificing our lives in our home courts.” Azriel explained, and the way he spoke made your insides flutter beyond remedy.

“You are serious?” You asked in shock, not expecting such a thoughtful and frankly, expensive gift. Azriel nodded, “all I want is to be near you. I will buy a home wherever you want as long as I have you. I know you don’t want me to leave my family… and I would hate for you to have to compromise for me…”

“I… fuck, my gift is so bad.” You cursed, rubbing your temple as happy tears swelled your eyes at the thoughtfulness of your mate. Thoughtfulness a partner had never given you in the three centuries you had lived.

“Angel, you are the only gift I will ever need. You know that. This bond… is everything I ever wanted, and more.” Azriel kissed your forehead as he soothed you. You rested your head on his chest until he asked, “is my gift the leather cuffs I wanted for my armor?”

“Yes.” You groaned.

“Fuck yeah, angel. Cassian will be so jealous when he sees what Nuan came up with.” You giggled at his words and handed him the box.

You watched as your mate eagerly opened and then put on the brand new mechanical cuffs. They were black and blue, and had some features that apparently would make him a more unbeatable opponent. “I feel like this is so bad compared to the TWO houses you just gave me.”

“Sweetheart,” he frowned, “you think I kid when I say my mate is my most exquisite, excellent gift?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, only for him to tackle you to the bed, his wings flaring wide as he peppered your face with sweet kisses all over. “You are all I have ever wanted.”

You laughed gleefully and gave in to your loving mate.

Long story short, you survived.

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @wallacewillow0773638 @lilah-asteria

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the-californicationist · 1 month

Text

Riptide

Price/FReader for @glitterypirateduck's Oh, Captain! challenge 🩷

Challenge #2 (First time being intimate) and #91 (Snuggling under the stars)

TW: female reader, come play, a bit of casual exhibitionism

After a long mission, you’re slowly making your way back to England, hitching rides with local extraction teams to avoid Russian detection. Somewhere in the Mediterranean, you and the 141 make camp on an island beach and discover an old bottle of rum. Once the sun sets, the rum goes straight to your head, and you and your captain get tangled up in a hammock.

The captain was dressed in his boonie hat, a pair of running shorts, and nothing else, swaying back and forth gently in an old rope hammock. The sunset glowed ruby red, just like the tip of his cigar, and the heat of the day slowly surrendered to a cool, island night.

You’d never seen a pure purple sky before, and you watched it fade until the stars came out, twinkling on the horizon line just above the crashing waves. Your toes were being lapped at by the bright white foam, and every time the tide came toward you, it licked at your skin deeper and deeper, threatening to pull you into its riptide, taking you along with it, claiming you for the sea.

Gaz, Soap, and Ghost were chatting by the fire, nursing one of the bottles of rum they’d discovered amongst the old shipping crates. You’d been skeptical at first, but when Price took a big long swig right in front of you, proving it wasn’t poison, you followed him into the drink. The two of you had made half a bottle disappear before he grew oddly quiet, giving you a strange look and retreating to his hammock bed.

You peered over at him again. A steady flow of blue, milky smoke floated up from his full lips, tangling itself in his beard before blowing away with the night wind. You wanted to taste it. You wanted to feel that fire of his on your tongue. You wanted to be burnt by it, to smolder into glowing embers and ash right along with him.

You looked over your shoulder to make sure the men were distracted before changing out of your wet sports bra. You were wearing a white button down over your black bra and panties, every bit as utilitarian as you had been trained to be, but the damp fabric was making you cold. And perhaps, if he chose to take a look, now that your breasts were unbound, a certain captain might be able to peer into the gaping neckline to see your nipples. You wanted him to see them.

Trying to be very casual about it, you marched over to the roaring bonfire where the boys were sitting and hung your bra with the other drying clothes. You were all in some state of undress, but as you approached, their boisterous conversation lulled, and they watched you fidget once more with your top, choosing to unbutton it just one button further.

“Tsk… You got it bad, sergeant,” Gaz whispered, nodding over to Price, judging you shamelessly.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “So?”

“Both of you,” Ghost shook his head, taking another swig from the bottle.

Before you could ask what he meant, Soap slung his arm around your shoulder and whispered in your ear,

“Just watch.”

Then, he let out a loud wolf-whistle and stood up with you, spinning you around the fire. The other boys laughed, understanding his game.

“Bonnie lass! You’ve got moves, hen, I’ll give you that.”

“Aye, she does. Been hitting the gym, haven’t you, babes. Quads are lookin’ tight,” Gaz commented loudly.

You realized they were trying to goad the captain, making him jealous. Sure enough, he was staring right at you, his bright eyes shining in the orange blaze of the fire, even though he was too far to do anything about it. He took another drag from his cigar, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you.

Ghost shook his head again and muttered under his breath,

“Gonna wake the dragon if you’re not careful, you muppets.”

You smiled, taking the bottle of rum from his hands and tipping it back, letting the sweet liquor flow down your throat. You wiped your lips with the back of your hand and returned it to Ghost, making your way over to the hammock.

Price watched your approach the whole time, and maybe you added a little extra sway to your hips as you tread through the sand, and maybe… maybe you let the wind billow under your button down, making the gap wider, showing more and more of your breasts until it was almost indecent.

“Got room for one more?”

He watched you from his swinging bed, making you wait for his response, puffing his smoke toward your bare belly where your shirt was knotted up. Then, in that deep voice of his, he nodded and said,

“Aye, if you’re willing to be the little spoon, Sergeant.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, sitting on the edge of the ropes carefully, putting your weight in the middle and lowering yourself until you were laying with your back against his hairy chest, feeling the stickiness of his skin, coated in salt and sand and sweat. Your feet tangled together. He did not move to untangle them, so neither did you.

He was quiet behind you, but you could feel his breathing. Every now and then, creamy bands of smoke would tumble across your cheek. You followed it with your nose, looking back at him, scooting down a bit so you could see his face.

“Can I try?” You eyed the cigar.

“You know how?” He asked gently.

You shook your head. It was a lie. You knew how to smoke cigars; who didn’t? But, you wanted him to feel like he was showing you something for the first time. More than that, you wanted to see how he would teach you. The butterflies in your belly railed against your nerves, fluttering like mad to see him make you into his student.

He handed you the stick, giving you his commands,

“Pull it into your mouth, but not your throat. Keep it on your tongue. Taste it. When you’ve had enough, let it all out.”

You stared into his bright blue eyes as you followed his instructions. You sucked in the smoke, feeling the heat and tasting the sweetness of the tobacco. You let it linger on your tongue, and then you blew it out, letting it coat his chin and flow around his neck like a smoky collar.

“Mm,” he murmured, disapproving, “Too fast, love. Like this.”

He took the cigar and put it to his lips, taking in a huge puff. Then, to your surprise, he leaned over you, putting his mouth in front of yours close enough to kiss you, but he didn’t. He let the smoke fall out of his mouth and into yours, watching it pool into your lips and beyond your teeth. It filled your senses, making you reel from its intensity. Price had a gleam in his eye, and you knew he was trying his best to get under your skin.

You smiled back. Two could play at this game.

After the smoke cleared, he pulled back, leaning away from you but still looking at your face, waiting for your reaction.

“It got cold quick, didn’t it?” You let out a little shiver.

“Sure did,” he nodded, smirking, “Maybe if you had more clothes on, you’d be warm.”

“Do you want me to put more clothes on?” Your voice dripped with lust, your desire for him wholly unmistakable.

When he looked down at you now, his pupils were blown wide, inky black, taking all of you in, memorizing you like there’d be a test. His gaze fondled you, making you feel like he was peeling you apart even though he hadn’t laid a single finger on you yet. His eyes traced down your neck and into your top, stopping to stare with wonder at your bare tits in the open fold of the shirt.

With the cigar still balanced between his fingers, he used his thumb to delicately lift the fabric away from your neck, peering inside like a newly opened gift, his eyes wide with excitement. You wanted his fingers to touch you, but he played with the buttonline of the shirt instead, making it gap more and more until your breasts were almost fully exposed to the cool night air.

You made a show of glancing over to the boys by the fire, whispering to him,

“They’re gonna see us.”

“Aye,” he said matter-of-factly, moving to untie the bow of the tail of your shirt, trying to peel it off of you like you were a ripe fruit.

Suddenly, he took a final drag of the cigar and tossed it forward into the sand. It smoldered there, half-buried. Your body prepared for him to squeeze your tits, to pinch your nipples cruelly, to satisfy his obvious hunger… but, it never happened. Instead, he lay his hand on your belly, using his fingertips to pet you, lazily caressing you in small circles.

It was making you squirm. You wanted him to go further. He seemed so hungry for your body and yet here he was, holding himself back. You rolled your ass into his crotch, hunting for the hard prod of his cock. You felt it, and he let out a gravelly sigh. Success.

Yet, it didn’t change his tempo. He kept caressing you, petting your ribs, never quite reaching the swell of your breast, but stopping short over and over.

You reached back and put your hand on his furry belly, full of rum and relaxed from his odd position in the hammock. Beneath your hand, his skin shuddered, feeling every movement that you made and responding to it eagerly. Inch by inch, you made your way to the elastic band of his trunks, reaching inside, searching for his hard rod.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Sergeant,” he whispered. His voice was soft and deep, almost too low to hear.

You needed him, and you were about to show him exactly how much. When you found his cock, you pulled it out of his trunks and shoved down your panties with your fingers, fumbling around with the fabric, trying your best to stay quiet. You rocked your hips back, allowing his head to slide between your legs and press up against your wet folds. Without his help, you couldn’t fit him inside of you, but you rocked against him anyway, smearing your stickiness all over his shaft.

Back and forth you rubbed him, working yourself up into a fever. Still, he did not help you. He didn’t even move to fondle you. His hand never plucked at your nipples, and he did not explore your swollen lips hidden behind your panties, the same lips his drooling dick was rutting through.

The elastic of your panties trapped him inside with you, keeping him close. Otherwise, he just went on with his sensual touching, brushing your hair from your face, running a finger along the curve of your rib cage.

“So wet. All for me, soldier?” He hissed into your ear.

“Yes, sir,” you panted.

“Shh. Slow down. Breathe with me.”

You were tucked in closer to his chest, and you matched his inhales and exhales, your own body rising and falling with him as the hammock swayed you back and forth. You watched the boys laughing and joking. If they had noticed you, they were giving you your privacy.

“That’s it. We’ve got all the bloody time in the world. What’s your rush?”

You looked back at him, pushing your nose against his scruffy jaw,

“Want you to touch me, Captain… please.”

“How do you want me to touch you, soldier?” He moved his hand beneath your shirt collar for the first time and you held your breath, “With my hands?” Before you could answer, his mouth closed over your earlobe, suckling at it, lightly kissing your neck, “Or with my mouth?”

“Yes, sir…” You let out a small mewl, trembling under his touch.

He chuckled darkly,

“Greedy little girl…”

When he finally ran his palm over your pert nipples, you jerked from the pleasure. It shocked you, and you felt yourself melt between your legs. His calloused hand was all you could think about. When he used his thumb and forefinger to lightly pull at your peaks, you had to stop yourself from moaning aloud. Instinctively, your body bucked into him, painting his cock with layer after layer of your slick joy.

You watched as he snaked his hand out of your shirt and licked his fingertips. Then, he returned them to your breast, slipping his spit over your sensitive flesh, heightening your sensations.

He shifted his weight and your shoulder fell back, twisting your torso until your breasts were freed from your shirt. You were fully on display, the light of the fire dancing across your skin. If the boys looked over at you, they’d see everything. They could watch how their sunkissed captain was craning his neck, knocking his hat back to lick and suck gently on your nipple, playfully plucking at the other one absentmindedly.

You had to bite your cheek so you couldn’t scream, but Price saw the panicked look in your eyes. He paused, reminding you,

“C’mon, love. Breathe for me. Relax. You’re alright.”

The only problem was when you did finally relax, you felt the bright, crackling sense that you were about to come.

“I can’t,” you hissed through your teeth, “You’re going to make me come. I’m gonna come. I’m… I can’t…”

“You can,” he suckled your breast deeper into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, “Deep breath in, let it all out. Let it come. That’s it. Good girl.”

You knew he had felt you come. You didn’t even have a chance to hide it. You were bucking against him hard enough to make wet little noises from your grinding. Your panties were wet. You’d come so hard it had felt like you had a bruise deep inside of your belly, and your legs shivered, quaking from his barely-there touch.

“Beautiful…” He commented, returning to his delicate sucking, “So eager.”

You were beyond consciousness. Everything was gleaming and glittering in your vision, and you could feel the flush of blood moving up your chest and onto your cheeks, hot and full of sexual energy.

“You want me to touch you?” He asked quietly, hard as a stone but seemingly unbothered by your ecstasy.

You nodded, whispering your desperate yeses to him.

“In front of my men?” There was a darkness in his voice that felt like a hand gripping you around your throat.

Shame and erotic desire warred in your belly. You nodded anyway, too cock-starved to care. You’d never wanted anyone so badly in your whole life.

Price’s hand moved lower, flat against your skin, and his pinky finger dipped into the waistband of your underwear. His hand cupped your mons, finding his cockhead nuzzled beneath your clit, nudging the tight bundle. He used his hand not to touch you, but to instead hold his dick and draw little circles in your flesh with it, moving it against you rhythmically. The soft head swiped below your clit over and over, enough to tease and not nearly enough to soothe.

“Soaked, love. So wet that I can smell you. So sweet.”

You turned your head to look at him. You wanted to see his face, wanted to see desire painted there, and it was. His eyes were watching you like a wolf, witnessing you fall limp like easy, pliant prey.

“When you come,” he smiled, knowing you were getting close again, “I want you to look at me. Don’t look away. Show it to me.”

“Yes, sir…”

You struggled to hold his gaze. Your body was doing everything it could to fight you, to force you to close your eyes in the face of your pleasure. As you felt yourself approach that glaring point of no return, you locked eyes with him, pleading with him, begging him for help he couldn’t give you.

“Captain!” You gasped breathlessly.

“Don’t… don’t look away,” he growled from his throat with a half-moan that revealed his desire.

You were bursting from the inside out, and it felt like you had caught fire. Your skin was hot, and you broke out in a sweat, the salty sheen making your sunburnt skin glow.

“Good,” Price purred, “So good, love. So pretty.”

You rested your forehead against his neck. He hadn’t even put his cock in you, and you felt like you’d been through hell — or heaven. One or the other. Maybe both. You were dizzy.

You felt his heart slamming into his chest, and you could smell the tobacco lingering on his breath. He was still pushing his cock against you, and your body continued to make loud, sticky come for him, enough to drip and smear onto your thighs.

You looked out at the dying bonfire. The boys were quiet now, laying around, aiming for bed. As the fire lost its height, Price became emboldened.

He fisted his cock more vigorously, jerking himself against you, his huge hand bulging inside of the fabric of your panties.

“So fuckin’ messy, love. So wet for me. Gorgeous,” Price snarled, talking into your neck in a hoarse whisper. You could tell he was approaching his own charged bliss.

You kissed his neck, sucking on his skin, enjoying each and every sigh. Your body was begging for him, contracting over and over, wishing for something to squeeze. As if he could read your mind, Price sank a thick finger into your pussy as he jerked himself off onto your folds, finding some sort of punishing pattern, ripping another round of joy from you.

He moved his mouth over yours, letting it hang slack, sharing your breath and resting his forehead against yours. His eyes were watching yours, showing you his orgasm just as you had been made to show him yours. He was right. It was beautiful. You could see the sparking desire in his eyes, built up with a sort of intensity that was almost frightening. Price cried out under his breath, right into your open lips, his face full of serene relief.

Then, you felt something warm and slick coating his hand and your lips. You realized he was coming on your folds, painting your soft skin with his white, thick cream. It was everywhere; you were so sensitive, you could feel it. It dripped onto your swollen clit, and you could feel it slide down into your stretched hole where his fingers were making you tremble. Your panties were soaked through, and you realized he was using his hand to pull out more and more of your juices, letting them run down your legs and into the cleft of your ass.

He stilled himself, breathing heavy, still gazing into your face, his eyes full of longing. Then, he pulled his cock away, letting the wet tip loll against your ass cheek. His fingers slid out of you, one by one, ever so gentle, and he used them to rub his orgasm into your flesh like lotion, mixing you together in a lurid ritual. Carefully, he removed his hand from your panties entirely, replaced the elastic where it belonged, and began to massage your pussy through the fabric, making sure his sticky come was there to stay.

“That was…” Price sighed.

“So fucking good, Captain,” you smiled, petting his cheek, letting the sway of the hammock rock you as you came down from your high.

You looked down at your legs, gleaming in the low firelight,

“I better go wash off.”

“Don’t you dare,” Price snarled, hugging you closer to him, trapping you with his heavy arms. He grinned slyly down at you, taking an obvious glance down at your panties, teasing you, “You’re gonna keep me right here, love,” he shoved his huge hand between your legs, resting his palm over your clit, “At least until they start their snoring. Then…” You felt him teasing your pulsing hole through the wet fabric, “I’ll give you some more. Let you keep it nice and warm inside this time.”

If you liked this story, please consider reblogging! ✌️🩷

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pandorxxx · 1 year

Text

Sing for me

Lo’ak x Avatar fem reader (all characters are aged up)

Warnings: heavy smut, cursing, pinning, neck grabbing, praise kink, breading kink, daddy kink, p in v, slight oral, multiple orgasms, creampie.

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

You and lo’ak were sitting in your room, listening to your playlist from back home. Unlike the other sully children, Lo’ak was very intrigued by earth music. He always wanted to know more about it. So every Friday night, he would come by and listen to some of your favorite playlists, until you two would fall asleep.

“Damn, what’s this song?” He asked, sprawled across your bed in a starfish position as the song beamed through the room.

“sky by playboy Carti.” You started, scrolling through your phone as you nodded your head to the beat. You glanced up, watching Lo’ak’s tail tap the plush bed in excitement.

“You must like this one.” You chuckled, placing your phone on the table, and sitting back in your desk chair.

“Hell yeah! Shit is niceeee!” He smiled, also nodding his head to the music. He glanced over to the led light remote.

“What color are we thinking, mama?” He asked taking the remote in his large hand, pointing it to the ceiling. “Uhhh, what about purple?” You asked, spinning your self around in the chair.

“You read my mind, baby.” He chuckled, changing the color to purple, before placing the remote to his side. He turned his head to you, taking in your gorgeous body under the dim lighting. He licked his lips, eyeing you up and down.

“Y/n…” he spoke lowly, grabbing your attention instantly. You locked eyes with him, knowing what that look meant. “Yessss?” You trailed, tilting your head with an all-knowing smile plastered across your face.

“why are you so far away? Comere.” He smiled, signaling you to come and take a seat on his lap. you rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone before walking over to him. You climbed over him slowly, before taking your place on his lap.

He watched your every move with lustful eyes, biting his lip once your pelvises met. “Hey mama…” he smiled, running his hands up and down your waist and back. “Hey, lo’ak.” You said sensually, running your dainty hands down his chest, all the way to his flexed abs. He trailed his hands all the way down to your phone that was sticking out of your loincloth band.

“What are you doing, skxawng!” You asked in an irritated tone. He snatched the phone, holding it all the way back so you wouldn’t be able to get it. You bent down, reaching as far as you could, but there was no use.

“Haha! Finally! You never let me see this damn thing!” He laughed, holding your hands down as he fiddled with the contraption. “I-I can’t believe that you tricked me, IDIOT!” You shouted, trying to pull your wrists out of his tight grasp.

“Leeetsss seee, what kind of songs do you have in here?” He asked sarcastically, scrolling through your playlists. He came across one in particular that made his eyes widen.

“Ohhh wow…who would’ve thought that YOU would have a…” he started, glancing at you briefly. You already knew what he was going to say, and you were mentally preparing for the embarrassment “Sex playlist?” He asked with a dark grin.

“Well, let’s see how sexy it really is, shall we?” He asked sarcastically, chuckling at your attempts to get out of his grasp.

“No lo’ak! Don’t, please!” You whined, shaking your head frantically. “Please what?” He asked, eyeing you up and down briefly before scrolling through the songs.

“You’re so fucking ANNOYING!” You shouted, still trying to get out of his tight grasp. “Ohhhhh what’s…feel it?” He asked with a grin, tilting his head as he awaited an answer.

“I-it’s a song, skxawng.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. He raised an eyebrow, before swiftly flipping you over, now in between your legs.

“You’re so fucking smart, aren’t you?” He said sarcastically, letting your hands go to grab your neck harshly, knocking the wind out of you.

“I know it’s a fucking song. What’s it about?” He growled, Pulling you up to his face by your neck. “What playlist did you find it in?” You challenged, tilting your head. He chuckled at your witty remark, pushing you back down by your neck.

“You’ve got about 5 seconds to tell me, or I’ll just listen for myself.” He laughed, holding the phone in your face to tease you.

“Something tells me you’re going to do it anyway. So play it.” You smirked up at him, essentially calling his bluff. No way he was going to actually play it. He smiled, nodding his head at you before pressing play on the screen. Your eyes widened when the opening music came on.

“You told me to play it, mama.” He glared down at you, tossing the phone to the side.

I’m I’m i’m… I’m gon’ make you feel it. (x2)

The opening lyrics rang through the dimly lit room, setting a different vibe. A darker vibe.

You were visibly embarrassed, trying your best to avoid eye contact with the Navi hovering over you. Seeing as you couldn’t get out of his harsh hold on your neck, you covered your face with your shaking hands.

I’m gon make you feel it (x3)

“Nah, don’t get shy on me now.” He licked his lips, gently removing your hands from your face.

“I thought this was what you wanted? You’ve got an entire playlist dedicated to it, no?” He asked, slowly running his hands down your stomach, hooking his hand behind the band of your loincloth. You breathing hitched, watching his hand intently.

Tell me why you wanna be bad? (Bad)

Tell me why you wanna be bad, babe? (Bad, babe)

Sweatin’ while you callin’ me daddy (daddy)

Givin you the best you’ve ever had, babe (had babe)

Make me feel like you ain’t never had it. (Had it)

“They’re just songs, lo’ak!” You shouted in an irritated tone. He chuckled, pulling you closer to him by your loincloth band, before untying it.

Stretching you out

like you are elastic.(elastic)

Turn around, Poke it out

so I can grab it (grab it)

“Yeah right, turn around.” He spat, twirling his finger to mimic his command. You rolled your eyes, turning around for him. You laid flat, knowing that it would make him angry.

“You know how I want it, stop playing around!” He growled, holding the back of your neck tightly. You hissed, lifting your hips to meet his throbbing cock, covered by his loincloth.

Flip that ass over

like we in gymnastics

(gymnastics).

You nasty (ahh)

“Mhmm, just like that mama.” He spoke lowly, slapping your ass gently before ripping his loincloth off. You felt his tip graze against your clit before meeting his stomach. He grabbed his cock, jerking it in the direction of your dripping core.

“You feel that?” He smirked, rubbing his tip in between your folds, slightly pushing it in and out of your entrance. You bit your lip, turning around to face him.

“Mhmm, give it to me! I hate when you tease!” You moaned, arching your back, pushing your core against his throbbing cock.

“Ha! You want me that bad huh?” He chuckled, plunging his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace. He placed his fists on either side of your head, thrusting into you hard and deep. You held on to his wrists, using it as leverage to meet his thrusts halfway. All that could be heard was skin clapping, moans, and the song in the background.

“Daddyyyy!” You whined, feeling him smash your sweetspot with every firm thrust.

“What’s wrong, mama? Talk to me!” He groaned, bending down to leave a trail of kisses down your spine.

“Y-your soooo-“ you moaned, before being silenced by a hard thrust. You squealed in pleasure, throwing your face into the mattress beneath you.

Ah, ah, baby, tell me that

you want it deeper

I don’t ever wanna come out.

“I’m so what? So deep?” He asked in a low voice, rolling his hips into your swollen sweetspot. Your soft moans were caught in your throat, and all you could do was nod with muffled whimpers escaping your mouth.

“No, don’t hold it in mama. I wanna hear you sing for me!” He growled, speeding up the pace. He slowly bent down, still rutting into you like an animal. He licked your ear before nibbling on the lobe.

“What’s my name? Whose balls deep in this tight little pussy? Huh?” He moaned, pulling your head up from the mattress.

“You a-areee!” You whined, knowing that wouldn’t be enough for him. He shook his head, sitting up. He held you up by the folds of your arms, thrusting into you nice and slow.

“Why do you love pissing me off, mama? Don’t you know I’ll break your little ass in half?” He growled through gritted teeth, gripping your arms tighter as he hit your sensitive sweetspot with every thrust. Your legs started to grow weak, trembling underneath you.

Put you in a coma,

Yeah a sleeper.

I know that your body’s

Been in drowse (so, girl)…

“Ok ok ok! Please-“ you shouted, trying to keep yourself up, but the pleasure was consuming you, bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point.

“Tell me what I wanna hear first, and then I might let up!” He let out a dark chuckle, holding your dainty wrists in one of his large hands, using the other one to abuse the plush skin of your ass.

“Say my name! Now!” He growled, spanking your ass with every word he spewed. “LO’AK! ITS ALL YOURS BABY!” You screamed, followed by your sweet moans. It’s was music to his ears.

“Ohhh mama! You know I love it when you sing for me!” Lo’ak smiled, watching your ass smack against his pelvis with such force.

“Baaabyyy!” You whined as your body started to shake lightly, signaling that your orgasm was approaching.

“I know, I know. You gonna cum for me? Huh? Come on, mama! I know you want to.” He chuckled, angling his hips to jam straight into your overstimulated sweetspot.

I’m gon’ make you feel it

“I know you feel me, right? You feel this huge cock sliding in and out of this pretty little pussy? fucking you just right?” He whispered into your ear. God, did he know how to get you to your breaking point. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, how to say it. Fuck he was just…perfect at making you feel good.

“Oh my God! Lo’ak I’m fucking cumming!” You cried, walls fluttering around his cock. He looked down, watching your cream coat his cock with every thrust.

“I know, mama! Let that shit out!” He grunted, thrusting into you slowly, letting you ride out your intense orgasm. He pulled out, bending down to French kiss your cunt, licking all the way up to your ass, planting a sloppy kiss on it.

“Do me a favor, baby?” He asked breathily. “y-yes daddy?” You asked out of breath, still trying to calm down from your orgasm. He hovered over your overstimulated body, bending down to your ear.

“Come ride this dick. I need you, mama.” He whispered, grabbing his cock with one hand, as the other one held him up. He slapped it on your ass repeatedly, groaning in your ear.

“I’m still hard for you. Help me, ok?” He whispered, kissing your cheek before rolling over to his back. You crawled on top of him lazily, using his chest to position yourself correctly. You slid down onto him slowly, moaning the whole way.

Tell me why you wanna be bad (bad)

Tell me why you wanna be bad babe (bad babe)

With the shots [pow, pow] you bust off like an uzi.

Think I’m gonna need another mag babe (mag babe)

Back that ass up on me like I’m juvie (juvie)

Bout nothing but action in this movie (movie)

He grabbed your wrists, keeping your hands flush to his chest. You stayed still, adjusting to his size in this position. He felt so much bigger, thicker. Filling you up just right, and fuck did it feel good.

“Come on mama, I got you. Just go slow.” He reassured you, pumping in and out of you gently.

You bit your lip nervously, slowly moving up and down on his cock as he held your hands in place. He bit his bottom lip in satisfaction, watching you speed up slightly when you were comfortable.

“Mmm give it to me, baby. Just like that!” He grunted, voice rippling from every harsh bounce to his lap.

“It’s goin’ down, turn around

Lemme feel yo booty.

I’m a private and your parts are my

Duty. Girl, give it to me…

“S-Sooo good, daddy!” You moaned, throwing your head back in bliss. You sped up the pace, bouncing on him harder than ever before. His tip hit your sweetspot everytime, opening up your flood gates. Juices flowing down the side of his hips with every bounce.

“Fuuuuckk girl! You’re so fucking wet. gonna make me cum. Is that what you want? Want me to paint your walls, huh?” He moaned, watching your face ball up in pleasure.

Ah, ah baby, you remind me

of my Jeep-er, the way your

bodies bouncing up and down.

Feels like a tsunami Or Katrina,

I swear I am deep enough to

drown Oh, girl…

“Yessss, please give it to me!” You whimpered, keeping your focus on the rhythm in which you bounced on his lap. He threw his head back, screwing his eyes shut in pleasure.

“Fuck *thrust* fuck *thrust* fuuuck *thrust*” he grunted, feeling his high approaching quickly. His cock twitched inside of you repeatedly, making you gasp loudly.

I’m gon’ make you feel it

“Comere.” He commanded, placing his hand on the back of your neck to bring you down to his lips. Your lips crashed into his, moving in sync as the song rang through the room. He grabbed your hips as leverage to thrust up into you. You both moaned into the kiss, before you pulled away, placing your forehead on his as you stared deep into his lustful eyes.

“I-I’m gonna cum, daddy!” You whimpered, shaking your head from side to side from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Mhmm, keep looking at me like that. Wanna see you cum on this dick again.” He chuckled, staring into your exhausted eyes. He thrusted into you harder, deeper. Knocking the wind out of you with every stroke. You started to tremble on-top of him, whimpering and moaning as you met his thrusts half way.

“Cumming! cumming! cumming!” You chanted, eyes rolling back in pleasure as he watched you. Your walls trying so desperately to milk him for everything he has.

“Fuuuuck, mama!” He moaned, watching you rock back and forth on him to ride out your high. He was about to lose it, but he couldn’t yet. Not without seeing his favorite view.

“Baby, turn around. I wanna see this!” He bit his lip, gripping your ass hard. You smirked, lifting up to turn around on him. You held onto his knees, lowering yourself down onto his cock. You earned a guttural moan from him, as you squeezed his shaft the whole way down.

Till the end of time,

I fuck with you forever

Lil friend of mine.

Let’s bring this shit together

Make you feel it in yo belly.

You used his knees to bounce on him hard, and fast. He watched in awe, the way your ass met his lap with every bounce, it was amazing for him.

“Ohhh baby, don’t *thrust* fucking *thrust* stop!*thrust*” he grunted through gritted teeth, trying his best to hold on as long as possible. On the other hand, You were a mess; moaning and whimpering his name, working on your third orgasm of the night.

I can’t sing this shit

No better. Imma hit it

Like the pedal, won’t

You make it last forever.

He grabbed your arms, pinning them behind your back as he used the strength of his legs to thrust up into you again. Although he tried, he couldn’t help the feeling of always wanting to be dominant. No matter how good you were making him feel, he always had to make you feel better.

Hit you from the back

I know that imma make

You feel it. (Damn right too)

“Mmm right there, right there!” You screamed, hanging your head low. He poked around inside you, trying to find that spot that makes you scream bloody murder every time.

“Where, mama? Right…” he started, sending you one hard thrust. “Here?” He growled. You screamed to the top of your lungs, convulsing in his arms as your juices flowed with every thrust after that one.

Hit you from the back

I know that imma make

You feel it.

“YES THATS IT! RIGHT THERE DADDY!” You screamed, grinding into him to ride out your third orgasm. He shifted both of your arms into one of his hands, using the free one to smack your ass again.

“So fucking wet, mama! You ready for me to breed you? Make you mine?” He asked, reaching his hand up your waist, all the way to the bottom of your top. He slid his hand in, fondling your breast, and rubbing light circles around your nipple.

“I w-want it ngh! Sooo bad!” You whined, scrunching your eyebrows together as you felt him twitch inside of you.

“Shit, baaaabyyy!” He moaned. His legs started shaking underneath you, and before you knew it, you felt his warm seed shooting deep inside of you. You hummed in pleasure, rocking back and forth on him to work his seed deep inside of your womb.

I’m gon’ make you feel it.

Hit you from the back, I’m

gon’ make you feel it.

I know that I’m gon’

Make you feel it.

“Mhmm, you got any more songs I can fuck you to?” He chuckled, licking his lips. You lifted off of him, and he watched his cum drip out, running down his cock, all the way to his pelvis.

“Shit, we have to do this more often.” He spoke lowly, as you turned around on him, straddling his lap again. “I have a whole playlist dedicated to this, remember?” You replied innocently, lifting up to slide down onto him again. “We can do this all night, daddy.” He chuckled, eyeing you up and down.

He grabbed your neck, pulling you down to his face. He pecked your lips, reaching for your phone, placing it in your dainty hands before speaking:

“I guess it’s your turn then, isn’t it?”

Better than neteyam’s (idc idc idc) anyways, I haven’t written anything in a while lol, I’m sorry😭. I love y’all though, periodd!🫶🏽

Outtie ❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @viajaeger @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @pullandhug @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @thecutieyahia @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @neteyamsprincess @xreadersstuff @lovekeeho @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar loak #loak headcanons #loak x y/n #loak sully #loak fanfiction #loak imagine #loak fanart #loak smut #loak x reader #loak x you #loak #loak fluff

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starboyshoyo · 1 year

Text

Cherished Times

Pairings: Leona, Floyd, Jade, Azul, Malleus, Vil x fem!reader

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: fluff, romance

A collection of tender moments with your lover, to hold close to your heart.

A/N: This is a birthday gift for @kalechippp, with her faves <3 Happy birthday Kale!

Imagine…

A date in the botanical gardens with Leona Kingscholar. It’s barely been an hour since the Fairy Gala ended, but Leona is too exhausted to change out of the fancy garb he was “forced” into for the event. All he wants is to have his peaceful retreat back to the way it was, without the glitter and lights littering the planters.

Leona pulls you closer to his chest. You feel the rumble of his voice deep inside as he closes his eyes and holds you tight. “They’ve got some nerve, takin’ over my place like this. Lay down with me, herbivore. I need some time with my girl to recharge.”

Imagine…

Working the late shift at Mostro Lounge with Azul Ashengrotto and Jade and Floyd Leech After hours, when the purple glow from the aquarium lights bathes the place in shadow, you sit down at a corner booth with the Octavinelle trio while they discuss the day’s profits.

“Maaaan, this is getting boring,” Floyd complains. He’s sitting backwards in a chair, dangling his long arms over the backrest. “I’m goin’ back to my dorm room to go to sleep.”

Jade smiles at his brother’s mercurial behavior. “Floyd is right,” he addresses Azul. “It’s getting quite late. We should all retire to our rooms soon, lest we get too little sleep for tomorrow.” There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes as he glanced over at you. “I believe a good-night kiss is in order for us before we depart?”

You giggle. “Of course, you dumb eel.”

Jade bends down to let you peck him on the cheek. Floyd wraps his arms around you and lifts you up so you can reach his forehead. And when he sets you down, out of the corner of your eye, you see Azul with his lips pursed irritably.

“What’s wrong, Azul?” You tease. “Feeling left out? I’ll give you one too. You just have to ask.”

You love how easily Azul flusters. He’s placing a hand over his mouth and cheek to hide the evidence of his blush, but you know him better than that. Even if he denies it, he’ll never complain about receiving a kiss.

Imagine…

Stargazing with Malleus Draconia. He’s invited you on many a walk at night, but the sky has never been so clear before. For once, you convince him to tear his eyes away from the gargoyles of Ramshackle Dorm and look up at the pinpricks of light, so far away from where you stand as unexpected memories from your world come tumbling back to you.

“I think I remember something about my world…” you hesitantly whisper as Malleus rests beside you, hand gripped in yours. “Someone said that the light from stars takes years to reach us, because they’re so far away. Even light isn’t instant. So when we look at stars, we’re looking at how they looked in the past.”

Hmm… Malleus thinks to himself. He had never heard of such a thing before. He would doubt the accuracy of it, if it didn’t come from you. He would always believe you.

A part of him is happy that stars could be such a mysterious thing. It meant that somewhere in the world, the past was still happening. Malleus has lived a long life and seen many people come and go. But now he knew they would always exist. Maybe not on this earth, but in the sky. Somewhere out there, in the darkness between the stars.

Imagine…

Prom night with Vil Schoenheit. NRC doesn’t hold school dances often, so this is a special day. Everyone knows that Vil had been voted Prom King by his fellow students, so it’s only natural that you would rule by his side for the night, as his Queen.

He’s standing behind you in a crisp white suit, hair done up in a ponytail. Handsome, beautiful, breathtaking. All things you could use to describe the love of your life, Vil Schoenheit.

“Pull up your hair, dear,” Vil murmurs into the back of your neck as he zips up your dress. He places his hands on your shoulders, and you catch a glimpse of the two of you in the mirror.

You’re surprised to see the face staring back at you is still your own. Even with all the makeup and fancy clothes and highlighting, you still look like yourself. Vil always knows how to make you feel beautiful, without losing track of who you are. You can’t help but grin at him, and he smiles softly back.

“I dare say, my love, that there’s no way for me to be the fairest one of all tonight. How could I be, when you stand by my side?”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #jade leech x reader #jade leech #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit

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twogyuu · 2 months

Text

[1152]

pairing: vernon x fem!reader

synopsis: fluff/comfort, mild crack, established relationship (just like magic couple)

warnings: profanity

wc: idc - i don't wanna count today

a/n: for my sad bitches <3 im a sucker for back hugs shut up wbk. inspired by ten lee's 'lie with you.'

. . . .

"Why do you do it?" you ask.

"Do what?" Vernon asks in return. He removes one side of his over ear headphones.

You lean back into his chest, letting out a heavy sigh as you tilt your head up towards the deep purple, midnight sky. You feel him adjust his arms better around your shoulder and as if it is so natural, you reach up and cling onto his forearms, giving him a comforting squeeze.

"Your headphones," you look up at him, reaching up at tapping one ear. His lips spread in a sheepish smile. "You almost always have them on - even here, when things are quiet and I thought you'd like to enjoy the sounds of nature."

Vernon raises his brows curiously. "I wouldn't call a hill in the distance where you can still hear city traffic, 'nature.'"

You elbow him playfully. "You know what I mean."

"Well," Vernon leans forward and nuzzles his chin into the crook of your neck, "Sometimes, the world is just . . . too loud. Too many opinions, too many videos, too many sounds." He releases his arms from you and reaches up to remove his headphones. He takes you by surprise, adjusting them over your ear - a soft tune is playing, accompanied by a breathy, soothing voice. "And though trying to understand other perspectives is important, sometimes, it's overwhelming. Music blocks out that noise, let's me just be and centers myself."

"Grounds you like a rock," you hum, your body starting to sway to the beat.

Vernon hums, wrapping his arms around your waist now, swaying with you. "Something like that."

And because it seems like he needed it, that's exactly what you did - just let him be, soaking in the small moment, the chaos, the calm, the distance, the closeness. After all, the two of you were just two specks in an infinite amount of time and millions of the world - why not enjoy it?

Seven songs pass, now on James Arthur's 'Falling Like the Stars' (which you don't remember was a song you added on your suggestion or he found it voluntarily), you turn back around, tugging the headphones off your head and placing it over his ears again. Your hands don't quite leave the sides of his face.

Vernon looks at you dubiously, though he's suppressing a growing grin.

"Your turn," you say.

He reaches for one hand, letting it slip and press it closer to his cheek. "Next time, we need to bring earbuds - so we can both listen."

"Gross - and pretend like we're in some teen romcom running away from high school?" you fib, though it has your heart buzzing.

"I'll clean them," Vernon states matter-of-factly.

"Oh," you chortle, "That's not what I meant."

Vernon leans in and gives you a chaste kiss. it's fleeting as he's quick to pull back. He's not usually one for PDA (not that you were in public, but physical affection in general) - though you've been dating for quite some time, it still makes you flustered.

"I'm aware," Vernon chuckles as you turn back around hastily in embarrassment. "You say it's gross, but I know you love it."

"Maybe," you fib.

"Like you didn't daydream about being in some college friends-to-lovers with drive-in movies and late-night fast food diners," Vernon calls you out. He's well-aware of your obsession with 80's teen romcoms and infatuation with the seemingly dull but bright scenes.

"Stop exposing me like that!" you shrink forward, threatening to break his linked fingers to escape free.

"There's nobody here, but us," he states the obvious, pulling you closer anyway - not like you were trying that hard to run away.

"Still."

"It's okay if you love it, you know?"

You throw him a playful scowl over your shoulder.

"Let me make your dreams come true - 3AM dinner at Dino's Diner? I'll feed you fries," Vernon offers.

You fully spin around now, pushing him away by his chest. "Yes to dinner at Dino's Diner to live out my dreams - I'll feed myself the fries."

Vernon clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Fine - suit yourself."

You chortle, jumping off the hood of the car and holding a hand out to him. He's quick to follow, but rather than linking hands, he high-fives you instead.

"Hey!"

"You said stuff like this is gross," he calls as he starts opening the door on the driver side.

You both climb into the car and click on your seatbelts.

"But . . ." you squirm uncomfortably, "Not with you."

There's a shit-eating grin on his lips now as he turns the key and engine roars. Finally, he looks over to meet your eyes, his glowing bronze underneath the city lights from the distance. Vernon extends his hand, opening it up for you to take it.

"Thank you," you quip.

"No more lying," he warns as he backs up.

"Fine - b-but, you already know I like you," you stammer.

"Like?"

You groan. "Love."

"Doesn't hurt to say it aloud sometimes."

"Touche."

"I love you."

"Vernon!"

#vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff

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scribeofnight · 2 months

Text

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔. 🫧ㆍ₊⊹

✦ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ;; rafayel x afab!reader ✦ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ;; slightly suggestive, slight fluff - mostly brainrots ✦ 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 ;; clothed grinding! slight making out! spoilers for + heavily based off of raf's myth! ambiguous ending! reader is in denial! reciprocated love! sadistic rafayel! slight demeaning / derogatory tone! mean rafayel! ✦ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ;; 2.9k ✦ 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ;; my first ever proper rafayel fic. i really tried to write smut but i was and never will be one - for now, at least. it's been so long since i wrote something but, the rafayel girlies in the LADS official discord server and i were talking, and i just HAD to write this out, you know? i rushed this out in like 3 days in between classes and studying, so not my best work... t-t anyway! enjoy~

You supposed that it was a good thing - after all, the ocean was loved by you, as though it was real, and true. You imagined what it would be like, to be loved by the ocean (and you refuse to believe the image of him appearing in your mind as soon as you think it).

It was yet another sleepless night - you could tell. The sands from the bay billowed into the air, mingling into the ocean’s scent as though in a romantic waltz, the howling barely audible yet so loud to you. You did not know what to do; for you were never this sensitive to the ocean’s gaze and touch until before…him.

You swing your feet down to the carpeted floor, cashmere wool tickling your bare feet imperceptibly as you make your way towards the window, praying to the stars that the marble flooring beneath the carpet was not too cold. It had been chilly of late, more so with his absence, you realised. You try to push away these foreign feelings, dawning on you like a stormcloud, fogging over violent seas. It made sense not to indulge in them - a princess falling in love with a Lemurian? That would be unheard of (you dare not say you wished it was just).

Pulling open the door to the balcony carefully, so that it would not creak, you peeked out, finding dark clouds rapidly looming in the sky, a big mass of darkness. You sighed softly, dejection almost visible in your bodily language as your shoulders drooped lightly, a mirage of exhaustion creeping into your features. If Miss Natasha saw you as such, she would be berating you for your ‘unlady-like posture’. You could almost hear her, you realised, giggling to yourself quietly as you made your way back to your bed, the short distance from the balcony to your bed covered in a few mere strides.

Miss Natasha only meant well ever since she had found you unconscious near the ocean. Without a second doubt, she had taken you in and fed you, gave you shelter and some work to keep yourself occupied with - along with a name. She would press a warm towel to the red mark of a koi fish - that she found burnt just under your left breast, on your ribcage - whenever it burnt. You did not realise it before, but Miss Natasha knew what it was; and for your safety, she had to keep quiet.

You gingerly sat down on your bed, looking out the window through the fluttering gaps of the billowing curtains, the moon illuminating your room, bathing it in its romantic glow. You fiddled with your fingers, picking and pulling at the skin around your nails - one habit that always warranted you a harsh reprimanding and an earful, as well as a manicure from Miss Natasha.

A flash of purple caught your eyes as you spotted the fishtail beacon next to you - one that he had given.

You knew he always smelled like the ocean from the infrequent times that you both have met - sea salt, with a hint of lavender and burnt sugar. Oftentimes, you wished you could bottle it up and store it away. A little reminder of him, locked away in a part of your chambers for you to use whenever you missed him - which was often, but it is not like you would admit it out loud.

“Holding it like this, I’ll sense Your Highness’s presence.”

His voice echoed in your ears from that night; the warm timbre, that look he gave you when teaching you how to use it, the warmth from his hands as they enveloped yours… you shook your head to clear the thoughts. Hesitantly, you reached out to hold the fishtail beacon in your palm, tracing the detailed fins and tail, a smile worming its way to your face as you sighed softly. You could almost feel it - feel him - if you closed your eyes.

Thinking of, there are a lot of things you would not admit out loud - especially about him. You rubbed your eyes carefully, the revelation somehow exhausting you.

“Your Highness has been harassing my fishtail beacon for quite some time now. Did Your Highness wish to see me?”

Your head snapped up, all sense of weariness gone as you gaped at the purple clad man in front of you, leaning against the wall next to your window. You swallowed harshly at the realisation of how he looked like he belonged there, in your bedchambers, your head spinning.

You asked dumbly, despite you gripping the fishtail beacon tightly in your hands, your fingers still fiddling with its end. You pretended to not notice Rafayel’s full body shiver as you caressed the fishtail beacon, and you certainly did not notice his breath hitch, nor his voice get deeper.

“Rafayel, what are you doing here?”

“Imagine my surprise when I found Your Highness daydreaming while grasping my beacon as so. Tell me, Princess…”

“Your Highness is caressing my beacon so tenderly. I inferred that perhaps Your Highness was in danger and came rushing over, as a good companion would,”

Rafayel remarked smugly, his voice dripping with confidence, words rolling out like warm ocean waves under the glittering sun. He clicked off his mask, placing it on your bedside table before taking a seat next to you, gently pulling the beacon out of your hands, his voice taking on a raspier edge.

His face moved closer to yours, the fishtail beacon discarded somewhere in the folds of your satin sheets, his breath ghosting over your face lightly. You could feel his gaze weigh heavy on you, eyes glowing slightly in the dark as they bore into your eyes, his lips pulled up in a light smirk before he pulled away slightly, placing a few more inches of space between the two of you.

You cleared your throat carefully, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Rafayel’s robe, tugging on it and pulling him closer to you as you stood up as well, guiding him to turn to face you.

“What is it that you were so preoccupied with while my beacon was in your hands? Was it perhaps… me?”

Rafayel murmured, his voice saturated with a lilt you could not quite identify before he cleared his throat, standing up quickly, his back to you as he sighed. His shoulders were drawn together, clearly tensed as he hunched into himself. You could hear him muttering illegibly to himself, only catching the words ‘shouldn’t have’ and ‘what was I thinking’.

You murmured, gently brushing his hair back. You watched his eyes widen in surprise before his body stiffened, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, a light blush coating his cheeks at the proximity, his breathing slightly erratic.

“Rafayel.”

His voice broke off into a whimper as you tugged him closer, your fingers threading through the hair at his nape, effectively silencing him. You felt his arms gingerly rest on your waist, neither pushing nor pulling as you nudged your nose against his cheek, sighing quietly.

“Your Highness, I- I apologise; it seems as though the waves tonight are slightly uncontrollable tonight- i must retur-”

He parted his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them lightly as his eyes flickered from your lips and back to your eyes. He turned his face away, a hint of shyness evident as his crimson shaded ears made his feelings obvious, maybe perhaps his thoughts as well.

“Tell me what it is that you are thinking of, Rafayel.”

Your voice, albeit hushed, held a lot of power over him, you realised. You would not blame him - after all, if he spoke to you like this, you would react just as he is at the moment - trembling slightly beneath your touch, his breathing erratic as his ears burn red. His body was so warm, so warm that it burnt through your clothes, seeping into your skin and warming your bones.

He started quietly, inhaling sharply as you pressed closer, your head tucking into his neck as you sighed quietly. You could feel his pulse thrumming rapidly under your cheek - your only solace to find out it was just as fast, if not faster than your heartbeat. His grip on your waist seemed to tighten as he sighed audibly, gently pulling a few inches away from you.

“Your Highness- this is hardly appropriate-”

His voice resounded in the room, shaking you to your core despite the confusion. You blinked up at him, your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck, your lips parted in slight confusion. He stared down at you, a small smirk playing on his lips as he realised your innocence. Quickly clearing his throat, he ignored the burning of his ears, bending his knees slightly as his hands slid from your waist to the back of your thighs. Pressing a kiss right on your left rib cage, he tapped the back of your thighs gently once more, as you shivered while entrapped in his arms.

“Jump.”

With a soft, low chuckle, he guided you to a nearby wall, his breath fanning over your face carefully, barely breaking a sweat as he carried your weight. You stared up at him, taking in his features, getting drunk almost, as you counted the number of his beauty marks that you could see, swallowing the saliva that pooled in your mouth at the sight of him so close to you.

“Jump for me, princess.”

Unsure of what his intentions were, yet blinded by all you had, you followed his words, hopping carefully, yet hesitantly. In that moment, as you gasped, he gripped your thighs tightly, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, one hand sliding to the small of your back, pressing your upper body against his as his other hand held you up from under our thighs, his fingers brushing your butt lightly.

He murmured as he propped you against the wall, his head dipping down into your neck as he pressed a chaste kiss there, his hand sliding up from your back to your waist, his grip on your waist tightening as he shifted such that his knee was between your legs, digging into your skin deliciously.

“You’re staring, Your Highness,”

You sound so utterly wrecked, and nothing had happened at all. You felt his knee jerk slightly, pressing into your core once more, pulling a strangled moan out of your lips. Panicking, he quickly looked up at you, covering your mouth with his hands, his knee rocking back and forth as he watched your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Rafayel…”

He murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he dipped his down towards your ear, nibbling your earlobe sensually, a soft groan escaping his lips as his hot breath fanned across your ear, shivering from the feel of how close he was to you.

“Quiet now, Your Highness. We can’t have everyone finding out how debauched and indecent the princess is when around her Lemurian companion, can we?”

He continued, pressing feverish kisses down your jaw and neck, gently biting down on your collarbone, licking the bite soothingly as he smirked at your muffled whimpers, his hand still firmly clamped over your lips. You had not registered that his knee had moved away from your core, and that he was grinding against you, his erection so prominent as it dug into your core through the layers of fabric, broken gasps and moans tumbling off your lips, barely muffled by Rafayel's slender fingers, his hand on your mouth pressing down further, fueling your pleasure as your eyes rolled back, the drag of his erection and both of your clothes so delicious.

“Unless you’re into that - then I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Awww...~ Awh, you're so adorable, princess... What, can't handle a bit of pain? Have I spoiled you too rotten, my dearest jewel? Maybe I should increase your pain tolerance. What do you say to that, Your Highness?”

“I have no problem in showing off what is rightfully mine.”

A jolt of electricity went through your spine as you heard his words, a gasp tumbling out your lips, barely muffled by the Lemurian’s slender hand. Your fingers once again threaded through his hair, tugging him up to meet your face as he rocked his body against you, soft moans and grunts falling from his red lips, as he brought a finger to the mark he had left on the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing down on it slightly, watching you squirm as you try to shy away from the pain.

You groaned at his words, your toes curling as he seemed unaffected by the way you writhed under him, a small pout gracing your lips as your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tugging the purple-haired man closer. He could see the desperation in your eyes, and you were sure as hell that he could feel the damp stickiness between your thighs through your clothes. He watched patiently, a predator tracking its prey, watching a shaky exhale falling from your plush lips as his eyes darkened imperceptibly.

"Already so wrecked? You sound so debauched, Your Highness. Do you have no shame? Letting your Lemurian pet given to you as a gift have his way with you... I suppose I really should protect you, hm..?"

“Rafayel,”

Your voice sent a shiver down Rafayel’s spine as he grinded particularly roughly against you, his hips jerking violently into yours as you both moaned out in unison before Rafayel pushed you up further against the wall, clamping both hands down on your lips before shuddering once more, grinding into you slowly, carefully, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

He groaned into your ear, his voice getting rougher as desire tinged his voice with saccharine, timber dripping with sugar-sweet honey a sharp contrast to the drunken lilt of pure heady, unadulterated pleasure seeping into both of your veins. The air was hot, so excruciatingly hot - so tense and you could not think of anything else except wanting to feel him deep, deep inside of you, quenching a never before known thirst that sparked and ebbed from your core, through your whole body, tingling with need, and want, and so much more that you just could not put into words.

Rafayel obliged, bending down and slotting your lips together in a frenzied, sloppy kiss. He panted against your lips, his body rocking into yours slightly rougher; more desperate, as he bit your lower lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he twirled it around your tongue, his hand moving to hike your nightgown up, both of your desperate, poorly muffled moans reverberating around the room and travelling between your lips, eyes squeezed shut and fingers tangled in hair and squeezing hips, squeezing so hard you were sure you could see faint red imprints tomorrow. You could feel his bulge rubbing onto your core deliciously, the friction and roughness making your toes curl as you moaned into the kiss, helplessly holding on to Rafayel as your nails dug into his shoulders, his clothes only getting in the way. The heady scent of lust and sweat clouded the room, creating a deliciously suffocating atmosphere that only fueled the need for him to be closer, closer, closer.

“Rafayel, please.”

You begged, your voice so broken, so utterly filthy sounding to Rafayel, and oh, did his head spin. Who was he if not a weak man to his princess’ desires?

He groaned in frustration, breaking the kiss, his eyes trailing a string of saliva that followed as he parted your lips gently, his tongue coming out to wet his lips - more so lick off the remnants of your kiss as he pressed his forehead against yours, pants leaving his mouth as your breaths intermingled, his hands carefully slipping out of your nightgown as he sets you down gently, still trapping you against the wall.

“I would love nothing more than to be yours for eternity, Your Highness.”

“Your Highness… are you…?”

His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty and yet equal amount of desire as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with want, ocean blue overshadowing the stiff peaks of pink dotting his irises, the mole on the left side of his nose very much distracting you. You gulped, feeling heat pool further to your core but you shook your head, cupping the taller’s cheeks gently and tugging him down, guiding his lips closer to yours.

“Would you let me have you for myself tonight, Your Quintessence?”

Rafayel froze, his body stiff against your tender hold, ensnared by your words as he gazed at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open, clearly not expecting his formal title to fall from your plush, red-bitten lips. You giggled softly, caressing his cheek gently and he gaped at you, admiration, awe and love swirling with the pure want in his eyes, concocting an addicting potion - befitting of a siren, you think, to cast a spell with just his eyes - before he surged forward, pressing a multitude of kisses across your face, suppressing his laugh as he swallowed harshly, audibly, your eyes trailing to his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with the gesture, quickly flicking back to his eyes as he flashed an impatient smile, his eyes storming over with clouds of desire, his grip on your waist tightening as he presses close, tilting his head such that his lips are brushing against yours, his canines catching on your earlobe.

♡₊˚ 🪼・ copyright @scribeofnight all rights reserved ;; do not copy, steal, plagarize, reword or repost to other platforms without proper permission || all credits to original owners and creators of the characters from the media + pictures that are not my own.

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huggybearhughes43 · 2 months

Note

omg can you write like a jeremy swayman smut pls there isn’t enough for this fine ass man 😞

You asked him?!

Jeremy Swayman x Fem! Reader

Warnings- enemies to lovers (ur not human if you hate this man idc), smut smut smut smut, PnV, anal penetration🤫, love bites, cursing, creampie, lmk if there’s anything else

Summary- Since the day you started working as the bruins management the goalie had it out for you. Nothing in particular set him off but now you two couldn’t go a day without arguing. Your best friend told you to forget your resent argument but you couldn’t. So you showed up to his apartment to ask what he meant by what he said.

Word count- 1.7k

Ever since the very first day of working for the Bruins, Jeremy and I had it out for each other. Nothing happened, but the second our eyes met we hated each other. Every bitchy remark or roll of the eyes had me closer and closer to slapping him everyday.

Soft chatter filled the air of the hallway to the locker room. The boys had just finished with their game and were on their way home. After every practice, it’s my job to close up the rink, which includes making everyone is out. I sigh as the last of the group walks out, or what I thought was the last.

I rub my eyes and make my way into the humid (probably from the showers) locker room. It was mere silent as I walked in. Looking down at my phone I run face first into a firm chest. I look up, so ready to apologize. My worried expression faded to an annoyed one when my eyes meet Jeremy’s.

“Could you take any longer? I have a job to do and an apartment to get back to.” I huff and put my phone in my pocket before crossing my arms.

He rolls his eyes and steps out of the way for me to enter. His hair was dripping wet with sweat and his eyes droopy, sad even. The team had just lost against the kraken. I rub my neck as I walk in, guilt hanging in the air.

“Look- I’m sorry, I-“ I begin but he cuts me off.

“I don’t need pity from some girl who knows nothing about hockey.” He chucks his bag over his shoulder.

I scoff, my arms never leaving the crossed position on my chest. “I was literally trying to be nice!”

“Shocker.” I bite my lip, trying to hold back a bitchy remark that was so close to slipping out.

“Fuck you.” I say, trying my best to not say something that I’d ultimately feel bad about later that night.

He smirks and rubs his eyes. “Word is you want to.” He shrugs and walks out of the locker room, leaving me stunned.

I do my job quickly and get out of the arena. Stepping into the apartment I’m met with the stare of my roommate, also my best friend. I’m slightly taken aback, “what?”

She breaks the stare with a blink. “Nothing, you just look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “Oh,” I tsk and set my purse and keys down on the coffee table before sitting on the love seat we had in our living room. “Jeremy.” I shrug.

Lana, my best friend, groans and spins dramatically before looking back at me. “Just slap him already, please, for the sake of your mental health, I’m begging you”

I smile lightly and look at her. “I wish” I start, “he said ‘the word’ was I wanted to fuck him.” Lana huffs “he wishes” “I just wanna know who told him that. Because let me tell you, that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” I pause, “you know what, I’m gonna ask him.”

Lana furrows her brows. “Like… now?” “He lives a few roads down,I won’t be able to sleep until I know.” I grab my keys again and leave Lana in the dust as I storm outside and back into my car. It’s five minutes in the car before I’m parked in his driveway. I contemplate for a moment then get out of my car.

I knock hastily on his door, not stopping until he answered. The bright sun setting casting a purple-pink haze on the sky. He opened the door with his brows furrowed, his eyes drop down to mine before his expression softens but only an amount I would notice.

“What the hell are you doing?” His hair was dripping wet with water this time, his chest shirtless, he was only wearing a grey pair of sweatpants.

“I wanna know what you meant, when you said ‘the word is you want to’” I cross my arms bitterly and a smile cracks on his face.

He steps to the side to let me in. I gladly take the offer, not wanting to stand in the cold Boston air anymore. He closes the door as I turn around, our eyes meeting again.

“You’re telling me you came all this way to my house because you wanted to know why I said you wanted to fuck me?” He crosses his arms, his muscles flexing. I curse myself under my breath for staring. “Is that not supposed to confirm my suspicions?”

My jaw drops with a gasp. “What?! No! I don’t wanna fuck you!”. Jeremy tilts his head with a cheeky smirk, “yeah?” He takes steps closer until he was so close I could feel his breath fanning across my face. “Y-yeah.” I clear my throat. “Then tell me to stop” “wha-“ my words are cut off by his lips attaching to my neck. Soft nips every now and then between the kisses made my breath hitch and involuntary moans leave my throat.

“Jeremy- this isn’t a good idea…” his teeth pull at my skin as he moves his head to be level with mine, a smirk playing on his now plump lips. “Why? You don’t like the idea of actually liking me?” The sun was now fully gone, the only light illuminating the room was the light coming from the lamp in the corner of his entryway.

I contemplate for a moment, liking him for a change does sound nice. I sigh and move up a millimeter, connecting our lips in a harsh, hungry kiss. I felt his shit eating grin against my lips, not caring anymore I force my tongue into his mouth.

“If you think you’re in control here, you’re crazy.” He loops his hands around me onto my ass. “Jump” he whispers breathlessly. I do as he says, my legs wrapping around his waist as he hoists me up. He smirks, “good girl.” He kisses me again as he walks us to his bedroom.

He lays me on his bed softly before crawling on top of me, our lips connecting again. I moan softly into the kiss, my fingers fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants. He tsks “I wanna see you first.” He pulls away and lifts my sweater over my head, my black Lacey bra on full display for him. He mumbles a low ‘fuck’ and places a kiss on both of my breasts before looping his fingers around the waistband of my jeans, pulling them down. I was now only left in my matching Lacey set.

His obvious bulge shown through his sweatpants. He looks up at me as he presses a kiss to my stomach before coming back up, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “And you said you didn’t wanna get fucked, huh?” My face flushes with a pink hue “it’s comfortable-“ “mhm” he kneels between my legs, kissing soft kisses before kissing my cunt through my panties. My breath hitches again as I squirm from the sensation.

He smirks and connects our eyes as he softly bites my panties before pulling them down with his teeth. “Jere- fuck” I moan as the cool air hits my wet pussy. He hooks his arms around me and undoes my bra, pulling it off. I was now left completely naked, squirming on his bed. “Jeremy” I whine as I tug on his waistband again. “Dirty girl” he whispers then pulls off the sweatpants that I had grown to hate.

My eyes slightly widen as my eyes drift down to his enlarged hard cock. “Flip over for me, yeah?” I nod and flip over for him, pushing my ass in the air for him. “Good girl” he runs a finger through my already wet cunt, forcing a moan from me. “Already so wet? Don’t even think I need to get you ready.” He squeezes my ass then I feel him press his dick against my entrance.

“Please~ I need you- I-“ my words are cut off by him easing into me. I gasp and moan out as I feel the sting of the stretch. He lets out a throaty groan as I squeeze around him. He bottoms out and the sting soon fades to pleasure. “Please move, Jere” he smirks at the nickname and retracts before slamming into me. I moan out loudly as I arch my back, my ass pressing into his pelvis.

Jeremy lolls his head back in pleasure, pinching his eyes shut as he pounds into me. I could think of anything but him and his cock as he fucked me dumb. I press my face into the pillows on his bed, muffling the moans. My head turns to the side, I gasp out quiet sobs of pleasure, feeling a calloused thumb prod at my tight asshole.

“Jeremy m’gonna cum” I manage to gasp out, my cunt clenching around his thick shaft. “Cum for me, pretty girl.” I cry out as I cum around his cock, breathing hard to catch my breath. He leans down to kiss my shoulder softly. “Where do you want it?” “In me Jere, I’m on the pill” I hear his light chuckle turned in a groan as he fills me up with his warm ropes. He pulls out slowly before collapsing beside me.

“We should’ve done that way sooner, baby.” He moves a hair out of my face. Still on my stomach, I smile softly. “I don’t think I can ever hate you again.” We share a laugh as he gets up. “Be right back.” Moments later he comes back with a warm cloth and a glass of water. He sits the water down on the side table as he moves to hover me again, pressing a kiss to my lips before cleaning me up with the cloth.

He lays next to me once again, pulling the covers over both of us. I nestle into him in a cuddle and drift to sleep.

After soft morning kisses and protests I insisted that I needed to get home to get ready for work. Jeremy pouting when I remind him I’d see him in a hour at work.

I was met with a judgmental stare from Lana as I walked through my front door. “You asked him?! And what did that get you?” I smile sheepishly.

“The best fuck of my life?”

~~~

Me when I got this request:

If Jeremy Swayman has no fans I’m DEAD

#smut #hockey smut #jeremy swayman smut #jeremy swayman #nhl

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xxelleswrittingxx · 1 year

Text

A Curious Predator

Warnings: non-con smut, somnophilia, NeytirixHuman!reader, AFAB!reader

Synopsis: Reader is lost in the Pandoran forest and Neytiri stalks her, but with this being her first time meeting a human and seeing that the reader is asleep, she grows curious about their anatomy.

AN: This is my first time writing a fic so critical feedback is appreciated, I'm thinking of writing a part 2 so let me know if you have any ideas!

Eclipse had started and the temperature was beginning to drop. Y/N found this to be a relief from the hot humidity that clung to their skin. Countless hours of searching for the route back to their comrades meant exhaustion and sticky clothes.

Doctor L/N was a scientist working on Pandora. This was the second time they had ventured out into the forest with other co-workers in hopes of samples and field experience, only this was the first time getting lost. The search for the next undiscovered fungi lead them astray, in their own world of passion for work.

The unfaithful com-call screwed them over, a limited range would only get you so far in the vast forests of Pandora. After realisation of having to stick out the night, Y/N decided to set up camp. A groove between the roots of a large tree would do, but the shelter only helped a bit to ease the fear of Pandoran predators that would be lurking. That, and the knife strapped to their shorts.

The stress of the last few hours was setting in and Y/N couldn't hold back the sleep that drooped their eyes. Neon vegetation and the soft chirping of nightlife soothed them to sleep.

Neytiri felt wide awake though.

The excitement of hunting down new prey never seemed to grow predictable. She noticed your blundering over fallen branches a while ago and knew of her duty to put a stop to you wandering close to home tree. So she followed from above.

That's why the smirk crept onto her lips when she saw you falling asleep. This was easier than she could have predicted. Not that she expected much difficulty, with you being a sky person she knew of the advantages she had over you. Not only her physical capabilities but her knowledge and experience of hunting in the forest. She almost pitied you. So small and dumb, unable to prevent yourself from giving in to sleep, leaving yourself vulnerable.

She decided to get a closer look. The view she's had of you from up in the trees allowed for her to go unnoticed, but now with you unconscious she needn't worry. Curiosity seems to have gotten the best of her. She drops down to the next branch. A soft purple glow illuminates your silhouette. You seem so different from the Navi, more curves and less skin to see with the heavy looking garments you wear.

She wants a closer look. Thoughts seem to be rushing through her mind. How she shouldn't get closer, but what's the harm if nobody knows?

And so she crawls down a few more branches. Now laying across the one that hangs directly above you. Neytiri's yellow eyes graze across you harsher. She's never been this close to a human before.

She takes in all the new details. Soft skin without markings, a tank top and shorts that cover so much, heavy boots, and a tube that sits below your nose and behind your ears. Her gaze follows it down your neck, chest, and waist to where it connects to the Exo pack clipped to your waistband. Above it is a sliver of skin that peaks out between your clothes. She feels an urge to touch it, and this bothers her. She feels guilty about wanting to get this close to the human. Again her curiosity gets the best of her.

Neytiri slips around the thick branch until she can hang above you by her hands. She drops down onto the ground you lay on. With her large feet on either side of your waist, the only evidence of her disturbance is the purple moss that glows beneath her weight.

Her head tilts at the sight of you, not even a twitch at the new presence. You have no clue about the danger you could be in. Neytiri considers that she could eliminate you here, now, and move on to go home. Let her parents know about her success in protecting the clan from a sky person.

But she can't bring herself to, not with your soft features that seem to draw her in. Before she realizes it she's knelt above you. Her blue digits graze down the bridge of your nose, so different from her. She tilts her head towards the side of yours to see your profile. Your nose bridge protrudes out... and she wants to keep looking. She wants to see what else is different.

She runs her finger over your lips next. So big compared to them. She can't fathom how much bigger she is. How she could overpower you so easily, and this sparks something inside of her. A deep tingling inside her stomach. Neytiri blames this on her heat that should be coming soon.

Neytiri ponders over your mouth, she lifts the corner of your top lip and looks at the tiny teeth you have. Blunt with small fangs. She smiles at the cuteness. But this time you twitch and stretch your head away from the invasive hands.

She waits for you to settle into your new position and moves on downwards. Your exposed neck is enticing and she leans close to take a whiff. The scent is exhilarating. It tingles in her nose to the back of her head and down her spine to the tip of her arched tail. She breathes in deeply again, but then she feels her mouth water...

Oh Eywa, how she feels the urge to taste your flesh.

Neytiri flinches away at these thoughts. She knows she should stop here but she can't. Instead, she moves lower. One of your arms is across your waist, the other is up by your head. Your chest is left exposed and the cool air is evaporating the sweat off your skin.

Peaked nipples catch the Navi's attention. She runs her finger around the bud and a soft intake of breath makes her ears twitch. She flinches away again, but this time in fear that you've woken up. Neytiri knew she should have stopped, stupid!

Your exhaustion was greater than expected, you were still deep under. Neytiri has another intake of scent and is drawn in once again. Blue digits are back on the peaks straining against cotton. Gentle circles are drawn around it. Your steady breath starts to grow heavier at the new stimulation and Neytiri picks up on this. Does the tiny human enjoy this? Her lips part at this and the digits move onto the second breast. A little rougher results in soft twitches.

The Navi picks up on the shift in scent, a little bit muskier, almost spicy. She rolls the bud between callused digits and ears perk at the soft mewl it receives. Her lips part into a soft gasp and the smirk makes its way back again.

How could you enjoy this so much? She doesn't understand, can touching your breasts feel that good? So with one hand on your small body, the other goes to touch her own. Eyes trained on your expression she feels herself start to reflect it.

Heavy breathing. Twitches. Soft mewls.

She wants to see more. Big hands grasp your shirt and slowly draw it up to your neck. Neytiri scootches down your body so she can lean towards your chest. Her hot breath precedes her wet tongue that slips over your pebbled nipple, big eyes stare up to take in your reaction. The breast against Neytiri's mouth pushes up as your chest expands with a quick gasp of air. She likes the reaction so she continues the motion of licking over you, switching from left to right and back again. Trying to pull more from you.

Each sound sends jolts through her body. She feels the need to rub her thighs together but can't with you between them. This must be her heat starting.

Looking further down your body, Neytiri sets her sight on your shorts. Her head tilts as she wonders if there is also different or the same. And so she gets to work with the task of undoing the tiny button and zipper, she's never worked these before and struggles with her lack of knowledge and large hands.

Finally, the button is undone, but she fears she may have jostled you too much. You stretch in your sleep again, but the Navi isn't as worried as before, she suspects that you must be dehydrated or have heat stroke from how deep of a slumber you seem to be under.

CLICK CLICK CLICK

The teeth of your zipper come undone one by one and Neytiris perked ears take in each sound.

She thinks of pulling down your shorts but instead decides to slip her fingers in. She really doesn't know what to do if you wake up in the middle of this, but she trusts her instincts.

Her fingers brush past a soft patch of hair and into a pool of wetness. Her jaw drops and she truly understands your reaction to her touch. With a shift of her hips, she realizes that she's just as bad as you.

Her fingers continue their exploration and she feels the bundle of nerves at the crest of your folds. She smirks as she recognizes the similar anatomy and decides to circle it, a touch she has experienced herself when she is in the midst of her heat.

Heavier mewls escape your lips and Neytiri is trained on the way your brows furrow. Soft rubbing turns harder and your hips twitch. Cobalt nostrils twitch to take in the heavy musk that is filling the air, she recognizes her own scent mixing with your own and it satisfies a feral part inside of her. Fingers dip further down and she feels your tiny opening with her fingers, could you take them, she wonders? Maybe one...her palm rubs your clit and she circles her middle finger around your opening. Hips buck up into her and she slips the tip in.

You're so tight that she worries she will rip you, but from your expression she reads that all you feel is pleasure, and so she continues on. Slick noises come from inside your shorts and Neytiri feels her clit throb. Eywa, she watches your face and wishes that she could have those pretty eyes on her. Wishes to know what colour they are. Wishes to hear you beg.

She works soft but steady and feels you tighten on her. You're close. Head turned into the glowing moss and breathing heaving, the peak is right there.

Just as you're about to come, Neytiri leans in close to rub her nose and cheek all over you. Your body tenses and soft moans fall from your lips. The Pandoran feels satisfied with the reaction to her touch and how your scent is now mixed with hers. She slips her fingers out of your shorts and into her mouth. Ears flicked back and tail swishing she savours the taste of you.

She does your shorts up and allows your breathing to return to normal. Satisfied for now she climbs back up the tree to continue watching you.

The curiosity that got her into this whole situation is not satisfied, if anything it has grown stronger. Neytiri wants to know what colour your eyes are. What you sound like when you beg. She knows she will figure this out eventually. But for now she will watch until you wake up.

#avatar #neytiri #atwow #neytiri x reader #neytiri smut #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #avatar smut #wlw smut

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politemenacephd · 3 months

Text

Arachnophilia: (Part Fifteen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Heavy Voyeurism/Mild cuckoldry, Fingering, Bondage, Praise kink, Oral (reader recieving and giving), PinV sex, Creampie, Breeding kink, Size difference, Monsterfucking, Masturbation.

Word count: 6200 Notes: this really might be the most smuttiest smut i've ever done, this shit made me blush writing it, jfc pls enjoy

You’d hoped to get home to Mig as soon as you left Miguel’s office, but at the last minute you were been called to help wrangle an escaped Lizard with a few other lower-level spiders.

You hated not being able to message Mig about your whereabouts. He knew you might be gone for most of the day but you knew he’d worry regardless, and with nothing to distract his mind it must be so much worse.

You took a few dangerous risks while trying to capture the escapee just to get it done faster, risks that your colleagues absolutely noticed. When they asked what you were thinking and you just awkwardly shrugged them off, you saw in their eyes the same mix of morbid curiosity you saw in everyone now.

Everyone knew. You couldn’t avoid it now. Whether Miguel had snapped after your fight and spread it even wider you didn’t know, but you knew you’d just have to learn to live with the universe’s judgement.

You were dating a spider. Big deal. Everyone here was a spider in some way or another, and nobody looked at MJ weirdly.

By the time you returned to Mig’s universe it was getting dark, with the sky a messy palette of dark red and purple above the darkened silhouette of the pines. You called up to Mig after dropping the tech you’d brought at the base of the nest.

‘MIG! Babe, you okay?’

‘Ah, mi arañita!’

You paused, your hand hovering over the rope ladder. Did he sound okay? You tilted your head as you replayed his voice. That was weird, he sounded almost worried? Was he still stressed out?

You grappled onto the rope and tore your way up to the entrance.

‘Hey! I’m okay Miggy, don’t worry!’

‘Arañita! Don’t—’

You grabbed the door right as he spoke, but you didn’t hear the last part of his sentence as you grunted to get over the edge.

‘Hey baby! Are you—’

You jumped out of your skin as you pushed the door aside, only barely catching yourself from falling back out and onto the earth below.

‘AH—WHAT—YOU?!’

Miguel was sitting in the nest, his body perched on one of the stools to the right side of the central fire. He didn’t even look up as you entered, but Mig rushed to steady you from falling.

‘Arañita, are you okay?’ he whispered. You didn’t hear; you were utterly fixated on Miguel.

‘What are you doing here?!’ you snapped.

Miguel narrowed his eyes, still refusing you eye contact.

‘Change of plans. Until you fill out the full paperwork to sanction this relationship, I’ve filed for an emergency supervision order. I need to be sure that you’re not breaking any rules.’

You were incredulous. Wait, is this what he’d meant? Was he really that petty? This man who was supposed to be in charge of the multiverse?

‘What- what the fuck are you— Why not put a camera up? Why not fucking warn us first?’ you snapped, your hands flying wildly as you pointed between him and the nest.

‘You could turn off a camera’ Miguel noted. ‘Besides, it’s a waste of resources.’

‘Oh, and the head of the society wasting his night watching us personally wasn’t a waste of resources?’ you argued back.

Miguel was keeping a straight face, but his smug aura radiated out of him like pus. He simply curled his lip and scoffed. ‘My job is to avoid anomalies. I’m doing that now, by ensuring that you’re both… following orders, and remaining on birth control, and that you’re not getting hurt. It seemed- the right approach, to me, as boss.’

‘You don’t need to watch us to prove that!’ you snapped back. ‘Put a- tracker in my fucking patch or something, or let me do the check ups like we agreed!’

Miguel had the audacity to yawn as you stared at him with an open mouth and clenched fists. ‘I could. But that would be a breach of your physical rights, you’d have to sign off on it, and you haven’t gone through the company mandated relationship therapy or de-escalation training. We need to agree the terms of surveillance. Until then it seemed safest to keep you on observation. That’s all.’

You opened your mouth to argue back but Miguel was faster. He raised his hand, halting you in your tracks, as those cold red eyes lingered on your face. ‘Or, would you rather hand over your watch?’ he said, his voice dipping as he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed until it hurt, your forehead furrowing with the injustice of it all.

‘You—You petty bitch.’

Both Mig and Miguel seemed startled by your language. You pointed your finger squarely at Miguel’s face, your lips drawn back over your bared teeth.

‘You petty bitch. You really think I’ll let you do this? Signing off orders so you can invade my space, because I wouldn’t sleep with you?!’

Miguel’s lips twitched. Was he holding back the urge to smile?

Mig, in contrast, looked horrified. His eyes darted between the two of you.

‘He- arañita, I-I don’t understand’ he stammered. You looked at him with nothing but sympathy in your eyes.

‘Your variant, there, revealed that apparently while I was in heat, he was hoping to— what did you say Miguel? Help me out? Ease that, hormonal pain? Something as slimy as that, anyway. He even asked why I picked you over him, and now he’s here, what a fucking surprise, huh?’

‘Mm. That’s quite the accusation. Shame you don’t have any evidence’ Miguel noted as he admired his claws.

You felt Mig beside you bristling violently.

‘You… Is this true?’ Mig murmured. He was addressing Miguel, not you, which was a comfort. He clearly believed you, as he was clutching you so tightly against his side that it was crushing your ribs.

‘Yes’ Miguel said. ‘It’s true. Of course I was interested. They reeked of heat, it was distracting. Repulsive almost. The most- desperate stench. But, that was supposed to stay between us. And it will. Because like I said, it’s your word against mine.’

‘You—’

Mig took a step forward but froze again when Miguel raised his claw, pointing it directly at your watch.

‘Again. I will remove your watch if you don’t follow the societies rules. Understand?’

You and Mig both glanced at each other. The hopelessness in your eyes was clear; you could lose your watch, and then you’d lose Mig. With a frustrated huff you turned and stormed across the nest. ‘Fucking—asshole’ you hissed beneath your breath.

Mig followed and caught you in his arms as you practically fell into his lower abdomen. You allowed his fur to muffle your continued insults.

‘It’s okay arañita. We’ll be okay.’

His soothing words were like honey, warm and sweet after a long and exhausting day. You settled into his grip.

‘So- fucking unfair’ you grumbled into his fluff. Mig didn’t disagree.

‘You need to learn some accountability’ Miguel snapped across the room. ‘You chose to do this. You chose to put yourself in a situation where you could cause an anomaly, and even though I can’t bring it forward in formal writing, you decided as a member of my society to get close to someone who is a threat. Now its my job to make sure you’re safe.’

You felt Mig breathing on your neck as he turned to watch his counterpart. His lips parted as he tasted the air with his tongue, feeling the brewing tension in the back of his throat.

In his heart, something was changing.

He’d spent so much of his life terrified of the man before him. Miguel had posed himself as the better O’Hara, the superior O’Hara, the one who knew what was best for him. But, was that true?

Mig had been told he wasn’t safe, worthy of love or affection. He was disgusting compared to Miguel, a monster in the flesh, and yet he’d soothed his self-loathing by promising that they were at least both monsters inside. Both bound to abstinence for the greater good.

And this hypocritical scum, now sitting in his nest, had tried to steal his arañita from out under his paws? How could he?

But you weren’t with Miguel, were you? Mig looked down at you as his rage boiled over. His poor arañita, nestled into his fur. No, you were with him. You’d slept with him, and you were still alive.

You’d looked him in the eye, knowing what he’d done, and you’d said he was still beautiful to you. You said you’d stay. Not with Miguel, but with him, the monster.

In his heart, something was definitely changing.

‘Fine. Miguel, you may stay’ Mig bluntly replied. ‘I’ll let you observe.’

Miguel, ignorantly assuming Mig’s concession was a sign of him backing down, took a step forward. He had such a smug look on his face.

‘Good. If you want to continue this charade, then you have to—’

Miguel’s words turned to muted gibberish as you squeaked. Mig had grabbed you between his forelegs and arms, and while Miguel had been preparing his self-righteous speech, he’d lifted you up into the air. This wouldn’t have been that unusual spare for one thing: Mig had shifted his fluffy little foreleg between your thighs, and now it was lightly probing at your clothed pussy.

Miguel just stared, too blankly shocked to respond.

‘Mi arañita, I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you so much.’

Mig purred softly as his hands began to grope you in a similar manner. He cupped your chest and your waist with his clawed fingers, lightly ripping the fabric to reveal the tender skin beneath. He prodded your clit a second time and noted the way you squirmed.

‘M-Mig, fuck—that’s, sensitive—’

‘Mmhm. Soft little pretty spider’ Mig breathed. ‘So, so pretty… Let me help you relax.’

‘What- the, f- what the fuck are you doing?’ Miguel spat in disgust.

Mig’s foreleg continued to squish against your clit, the fluffy appendage moving in neat little circles over the bunched-up fabric. He pushed it in until your lips were perfectly highlighted by the thin silk. You felt Miguel staring.

‘F-Fuck—’ Your legs kicked involuntarily as a whimpered moan escaped you.

‘I said, what do you think you’re doing?!’ Miguel repeated louder.

‘I’m just abiding by the rules, sir’ Mig hissed. ‘If you want to observe, then you may observe. But this is my home, and I’ll act how I usually would on my own territory.’

It clicked for you then, still suspended in a potent mix of embarrassment and pleasure, what Mig was doing. You caught Miguel’s eye. This selfish asshole, who’d hounded and followed and attempted to embarrass you at every turn, was now stuck here watching Mig ravage your body. Against your better judgement, you were filled with the sheer thrill of embarrassing him right back.

You gave in and relaxed in Mig’s grip. ‘M-Miggy, fuck—more, please—’

You whimpered as he moved in to kiss your neck. His full lips were warm and wet on your jugular. You felt his tongue on your skin, his claws kneading your chest. A full body shudder went through you as he gently bit down and sucked.

‘F-Fuck- Mig—’

He was rough on your neck, his fangs easily piercing down through the soft flesh. It was a potent mix of pain and pleasure, especially with his paw still massaging your clit. Your blood was pumping at this point. Your pussy throbbed in short bursts with each tender caress.

‘You—Y-You—’

To his horror, Miguel stammered. He couldn’t even find the words to berate you with. All he could do was stand and stare, eyes fixated on this ravenous display of sexual need, powerless and confused.

‘Mm—mm—’ Mig released your neck with a wet pop and a satisfied grunt, revealing a deep red and blue hickey mark. He kissed it once.

‘Mm- you like that, arañita? Mi tesoro?’ he whispered.

‘Yes, fuck—so much. I missed you so much.’

Miguel continued to stare as Mig dropped you to the mattress. He watched his variant crawl across you, with his abdomen rustling and his soft paws tapping. He was drooling venom, practically shaking with the adrenaline rush of having an audience to his physical validation.

You reached out and sleepily welcomed him with open arms, drawing him down with your arms around his neck.

‘Let me mate with you, arañita’ Mig begged, his voice muffled as he kissed your neck. ‘Please. I need you. I need you. Te necesito, mi tesoro, te lo pido por favor.’

‘Yes’ you breathed, ‘yes. Please.’

Miguel snapped his eyes away and gripped the edge of the nest with his claws. He couldn’t stand this. If he left, he was a liar, but if he stayed he had to endure this show. He could tell you to stop, but, could he force you to stop?

He could have theoretically started a fight. He could have. He could have continued barking at you to stop.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, eyes on the wall and arms folded, trying to ignore your sweet little whimpers as Mig tore your suit aside.

He drew you close with his spider legs and began to spin a silken web across your bare skin, easily turning and spinning your body. He was soft, dexterous, so alien on your human skin. Such a filthily delicious taboo.

You lay back and let your monster bind you. You succumbed to him far too easily.

Mig spun you into a shibari style tie, with a neat little spider web on your chest and your hands tightly bound at your sides. He finished by binding your ankles with webbing he’d attached from the ceiling, using it to draw them up until they were taut and spread, with your hips right at the same height as where his phallus would emerge.

‘There. Perfect. Are you comfortable, arañita? In my web?’ he asked.

‘Y-Yes’ you rasped.

You watched Mig give an affectionate grunt as he admired you from above. He was huge. You saw his abdomen twitching and rustling with anticipation, the black fur faintly glowing the same red as his eyes.

‘Mig’ you whimpered, your lips pathetically wet. You were so hot it hurt.

‘Arañita…’

Mig purred as he put his clawed hand on your naked rear, giving your right ass cheek a firm squeeze. He wanted to look at your tight little hole, desperately dripping and clenching around nothing, aching for attention. You felt him brush one calloused finger against it and jolted in place.

‘That’s my little spider’ he purred. You felt him circling his finger around your entrance, stroking that velvety flesh until you whined.

‘Mi tesoro, my precious thing. Let me see how much you’ve missed me.’

He pushed two fingers in and you melted. The moan that escaped your lips was loud enough to echo, loud enough to grate on Miguel’s ears until he hissed.

He was trying not to look. He was facing the wall, body rigid as stone, but the noises were getting to him regardless. His mind kept imagining what you felt like.

‘You were supposed to be observing, sir’ Mig noted. He was still fucking you with his fingers, still spreading you wide as you dribbled over his hand, but his eyes were fixed on his counterpart now.

Miguel refused to turn. His eyes darted, once, and he immediately felt that disgusting flush rising in his cheeks.

‘I’ll- kill you, I swear to god’ Miguel seethed.

‘You can just go’ Mig offered. He was aggravatingly calm, the only emotion in his voice the slight pant of arousal from feeling you clench around his fingers. ‘If you’re- uncomfortable, with how I conduct myself with my mate.’

‘I can’t just, go, I am stationed here’ Miguel spat. ‘YOU could have some human dignity and cover yourself up!’

‘This is my home. My territory. THIS is my territory’ Mig replied coldly, emphasising the word ‘this’ by pushing his fingers as deep as he could. You bucked your hips and cried out in response, something that make Miguel’s stomach knot.

‘It is normal for- males, to assert their territorial claim. You’ve given me no other option. Besides, aren’t you curious? Since you’re so- good, and abstinent. Right? That’s what you told me, so how about I show you what it looks like?’

Miguel was forced once more to look away. The sound of you moaning, the sound of you pathetically whimpering, and worst of all the wet slap of Mig’s hand against your pussy as he pulsed his fingers in and out, it was stirring up something potent in him.

Anger and arousal flooded his mind. He was fighting to not throb. He couldn’t allow it, he couldn’t. He’d never forgive himself if he got enjoyment from this.

But, fuck you sounded so wet. You’d probably swallow him whole, begging and whining the whole time. Were you a little brat when fucked, complaining about it being too big, or did you beg for more? No. You probably took it all, your eyes covered in those pretty little tears as you were fucked raw.

He violently shook his head as if that would clear his thoughts, but your body cruelly decided to cum right as he was reaching the peak of his tether.

‘F-FUCK—’

Your back arched as that sweet release flooded over you. All you could see was Mig’s smug, fang-filled grin as he felt your insides clench, his enormous spider legs pattering back and forth to indicate his own excitement.

‘There you go. Well done, mi amor, you feel so pretty when you cum.’

Your body went limp as your orgasm sapped all your energy away, but Mig wasn’t done. He shifted himself down between your spread thighs and began licking up your slick with his flat, wet tongue, that warm muscle flicking deliciously right on your overstimulated clit.

You screamed, unabashedly, in a way that drove Miguel mad.

With a wet pant Mig pulled back just to slather you with praise. ‘Estas mojadita, mm- Quiero explorar tus sabores, arañita.’

You knew he was speaking deliberately to provoke Miguel, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed it even more that way.

He settled down to gently suck on your clit, his red eyes fixed on Miguel’s rigid form in the corner. The man was trying his hardest to stay sober but his eyes kept darting, and every time they did Mig widened his lips and ran his full tongue across your folds, wilfully dribbling hot spit and venom down your sensitive lips.

Miguel quickly looked away, but he just kept looking back.

You kept wincing from the overstimulation, your wet lips parting and then pursing hard to avoid screaming again. You must be so god damn sensitive, he thought. Such a fucking brat. Crying over a tongue like that.

He felt his cock throb and struggled to adjust his suit. He wondered what you tasted like. He’d never got to taste one before. It probably tasted amazing.

‘Mm… so soft…’ Mig murmured, his voice muffled by your pussy as he continued his rabid smothering of your cunt with his tongue. He wasn’t skilled so much as desperately passionate, and god knows it was enough.

‘Wish—I could eat you right up—all of you, all of you, mm—’

His eyes were dangerously red, but you were too close to cumming to care. His claws dug into your hips as he pulled you into his mouth, his lips soft as they ravenously made out with your clit.

You came quickly the second time.

‘FUCK—’

As you shuddered in his grip his entire body shivered, a low rustle emanating from his abdomen as it visibly shook.

‘Ahh.. ah, good arañita, that’s it’ he breathed dreamily. He was still licking, still lapping up everything he could, to the point that his spit was sliding and dripping down your thighs and rear and back.

Once you collapsed with exhaustion for the second time, Mig began to move in. He couldn’t wait a second longer. His cock was painfully erect, having sprung from the slit on his abdomen the moment he tied you down, and it was aching for you.

‘Here. Help get me wet’ he said softly.

You looked up to find Mig bent over your bound head, his thick shaft lightly pulsing about an inch from your lips. You could see each black vein pulsing, the tip already smeared in pearly cum. In a trance you licked it.

‘M-mm—that’s it, that’s it.’

It was adorable the way he shivered at just the lightest brush of your tongue. He let you take the tip into your mouth and gently suck on it a little. Fuck, you thought, his cum was sweet. Strangely sweet. The sensation of warm, heavy, throbbing skin on your tongue was mesmerising.

After a few wet licks Mig gently released your mouth with a wet pop. With everything now utterly saturated and sopping, he moved to fuck you instead.

‘Shh, that’s it’ he soothed. You stirred in your bindings as he mounted your strapped body.

‘I’ve got you. You can take it.’

With both hands on your ankles, Mig drew you body up and began to penetrate. Instinctively you squirmed.

‘A-Ah--!’

‘Shh, shh. You’re so tight, mi tesoro. Can you loosen up for me?’ Mig affectionately whispered. You tried your best to relax as he edged deeper but with an audience it was hard. His thick veined cock was pulsating hard, stuck with only about a fourth of it inside you.

In truth, Mig was enjoying it. He would never hurt you, but, was his ego slightly peaked at how big he looked inside you? Absolutely. Spiders were judged on their size, after all, and that primal part of his brain loved feeling so large. He wanted Miguel to see you spread wide on his cock.

‘Shh, you can do it. You’ve done it so many times before, arañita.’

Another subtle jab, one that made Miguel sneer.

Mig gave himself plenty of time to fit. He’d pump a few times, gently stretching you out, and when it proved too tight he moved to licking you instead. He’d let his cock slide out and replaced it with his tongue, eagerly slathering every inch of your pussy with venom and spit. The venom helped ease the ache and the spit was lubricating enough, and after three or so tries he bottomed out.

You whimpered as he settled himself inside you. Yes, you’d taken him many times, but it always took you by surprise. You were stretched to the limit, your belly bulging, his thick shaft putting a heavy pressure on your muscles that you felt whenever you moved. When he throbbed it pulsed through your entire body.

He could see those pretty little tears on your lashes as you grappled with the pressure, the light pain in your core.

‘F-Fuck… ‘s so big, fuck—’ you whined.

‘You’re doing so good’ Mig praised. He vibrated his abdomen just a little to help ease the ache, as it allowed his shaft to gently vibrate against your insides. Your body shuddered at the unusual sensation. ‘Shh, you’re doing so, so good. That’s it. You’re taking it so well.’

Slowly, Mig started to move.

His whole body arched as he thrust into you, the power of each movement making your thighs and ass jiggle on impact. He loved feeling how soft you were, how squishy and comparatively small you were against him, how his claws sank into your bare skin. He started to pant.

‘Ah… ah, that’s it.’

In the corner Miguel was wincing. His eye kept twitching from the strain of not looking, and now the soft thwap of your mating was ringing in his ears. He couldn’t stand this. He couldn’t take his humiliation. He couldn’t take it.

‘Ah-- Maybe I’ll, rip that patch off, arañita’ Mig purred. He was pushing the limits in this pussy drunk state, pushing every button that Miguel possible had.

‘I think—you deserve a belly full of my babies, don’t you, sweetheart?’ he panted. ‘I want to see what you do with my seed. Let- let me fill you, please, pretty little spider. Let me get you pregnant.’

It was too much. Miguel snapped. He rose to his feet and stormed forward in a blind rage, his claws spread and ready to tear you both apart.

‘¡QUÉ CABRÓN ERES!—’

But then he faltered. Once actually face-to-face with the mirror image of himself he weakened, because Mig was, as you’d noted before, huge. He was bent over to fuck you but still had to look down at Miguel, his red eyes burning in the dim light. His fangs were bigger, his claws sharper, and his body heftier from carrying such weight.

Miguel froze. He’d always seen Mig cowering or backing down, too afraid of his own strength to show it, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. To his great shame, Mig saw the hesitation in his eyes. The spider’s lips curled into a soft smile.

Mig continued to move inside you, openly panting onto his counterpart’s face with each hard thrust.

‘Mm—mm—mmf—’

You jolted slightly with each pump as your belly bulged.

Beneath the two you were helpless, your body small and bound. You were inches away from Miguel’s thick thighs, his carefully contoured pelvis sitting right above your face. You saw his suit throb and desperately tried to look away.

‘You— Y-You—’ Miguel bared his teeth in a desperate attempt to regain control, but his eyes gave away his own perverted thoughts. He was losing. His breath was hot and his cheeks were the colour of burnt umber.

You let out another pitiful whine as Mig arched himself back, allowing just half of his shaft to pump into you so he was rubbing your g-spot. You immediately swooned, a slurry of mewls and moans dripping from your wet lips.

Miguel couldn’t help it. He looked down.

Right in front of Mig he looked down at you, bound and helpless beneath, brainlessly taking that monstrous cock right into your guts.

His lips parted, flashing just an inch of fang. His own lips were wet at this point.

‘F-Fuck’ he grunted.

He could see it pulsing in and out. He could see the glistening slick coating his abdominal fur, thick and sticky and hanging in strings. He could see the way your cunt stretched to swallow every inch of Mig’s shaft. How could you let out those soft, needy moans when you were impaled like that?

‘Fffuuuccck’ he repeated in a low whine.

‘Mine.’

Mig hissed that word with dangerous intent, right in Miguel’s face. He continued to pant on him as he pumped, and Miguel continued to watch you get fucked. His hand was shaking at this point.

‘Sweet arañita, who do you belong to?’ Mig panted.

You felt his cock slipping right up against your velvety little cunt and abruptly clenched, involuntarily squirting slick all over his soft fur. It clung to his fur in pearly strings, and he gave an approving grunt as he felt it.

‘Arañita, mi amor, your body is too kind, but I need your words’ he whispered. He was unnervingly calm as he rocked inside you.

‘I-I’m yours’ you dumbly panted. You were rewarded with another toe-curling insertion, that perfectly timed grind which pushed his fat girth into your spot. A flood of aching pleasure forced you to squirt again.

‘MMF- Mmm, Mig!’

‘That’s it, good arañita. You’re all mine’ Mig praised a second time.

Miguel couldn’t stop watching. It was maddening.

Instinctively his hand began to creep downward, his fingers shaking as they drifted to your swollen clit. He wanted to feel how wet it was, how warm, but the moment he drifted over your lips he was forced back by Mig.

The larger spider hissed violently, his pale green venom pooling and dribbling from his mouth. A little bit hit Miguel’s cheek as he fell onto his backside.

‘Mine’ he repeated. ‘I’ll let you look, but you don’t touch.’

The embarrassment was unbearable. Miguel scowled, torn between a desire to leave and a desire to fight. Those urges he’d desperately tried to avoid were ruining his brain.

Seeing Miguel’s obvious distress, Mig decided to make it so much worse. He wasn’t done humiliating his other half, not yet.

‘Unless, they want you to’ he panted. Mig pulled back and gently tilted your body so you’d catch Miguel’s eye, all while maintaining his wet probing of your cunt.

‘Do you want him, arañita? Or do you want me?’

At this point you’d been fucked dumb, and you were barely coherent. You were drooling onto the silk, your thighs saturated in slick and sweat, your legs trembling from overstimulation as he continued to fill you like a toy.

‘You’ you whined with zero hesitation, ‘you, I want—you, please, Mig, more—’

You didn’t see the overt disappointment in Miguel’s face, the bruising of his ego. You didn’t see the jealousy in his face as Mig groaned.

‘You sure?’ Mig purred. His gratification was fuelling his over-confidence, as was the sweet release of feeling wanted after years of neglect. ‘You wouldn’t want some extra?’

‘Mm—want—you, p-please—f-fuck its so good, so—big— you’re amazing, Mig.’ Your words were slurring each time he pumped his cock, but he heard you loud and clear.

‘Even though I’m a- filthy, half-way spider?’ he coaxed. ‘Even though I’m- a monster?’

‘Yes- f-fuck, you’re my spider’ you whined.

His whining got louder, his moans turning to pathetic whimpers. He seemed more aroused by that than anything else.

‘Ah- you want me to mate with you?’ he pleaded.

‘Yes, yes—please.’

‘You want my babies, arañita? You want me to impregnate that pretty little body? Get you nice and full?’

‘Yes, yes, fuck—’

Those soft words tipped you over the edge as you orgasmed for the third time, your desperate moans echoed out into the wider forest. Mig savoured them with a look of pure ecstasy on his face. ‘F-fuck, you’re- so tight—good arañita, so good, well done’ he breathlessly praised.

Miguel wanted nothing more than to break his counterparts chiselled face. He could feel his claws extending, his heart pounding. He was itching for a fight. But, if he fought him, he’d have to stop watching. Those soft sounds were addictive as they floated through his mind, lulling him like a siren call.

Miguel took another look at your glassy eyes and wet lips, your body shimmering with sweat as you moaned. He felt himself throb. It was, in a way, easing his rut, by vicariously experiencing this primal breeding.

It was mortifying, but he stayed. He stayed back and watched as Mig continued to mate you.

‘Mm- fuck they’re so tight’ Mig moaned, now directly addressing Miguel. ‘So- soft, so- tight—so small. Can’t, wait to fill them—’

‘You’re disgusting’ Miguel spat.

Mig didn’t even seem to hear. His eyes were half closed, his lips parted as he felt your sweet cunt squeeze the life out of him.

‘Mm—mm—mi arañita—mine’ he repeated, over and over with each thrust. Miguel buried his face in his knees.

The clap of his fluffy abdomen on your bare ass filled the nest as he started to get rougher. He looked high, his eyes almost pink in the dim light. Every part of him was shaking.

‘Ah—I’m inside them—I’m inside them—’

You squeaked as Mig started to push your ankles back, curling your spine so he could get deeper. He’d involuntarily covered the floor in webbing from his sheer excitement. He was like a man in rapturous prayer.

‘I’m inside them-- they’re mine—’

Each wet thrust was now splashing slick as Mig began to verbally pant. He was spanking your body with each insertion, releasing the most obscenely lewd noises.

‘Okay, I’m close- I’m close, fuck—stay still for me arañita, that’s it—’

With a guttural groan Mig aggressively ejaculated inside you, his abdomen jerking and grinding to get each spurt as deep into your cunt as possible. You welcomed the thick warmth as it soothed your stretched out muscles.

Miguel had no choice. His pride wouldn’t let him leave, so he watched Mig cum inside you.

He fixated on your face as it happened, his sharp eyes watching the drool pooling from your open lips as your eyes rolled. He sneered, trying to disguise his jealousy with disgust. He could have done that easily, he told himself, he could have filled you just as well.

‘Ah…. Fuck, are you okay arañita?’

As Mig gently rocked to a halt he bent to check your face, tenderly nestling your cheek. You could only moan in response.

‘I’m- so, good—so, so good…’

Mig let out a soft sigh of relief. Somehow, the tenderness of his aftercare seemed to disgust Miguel more than anything else he’d seen. He was scowling openly as Mig gently slid himself out and admired his work.

‘Pretty little spider… Do you want to see?’

Miguel was taken aback as Mig addressed him directly. The larger man had his hand on your suspended hips, his eyes glowering in the candlelight.

The two narrowed their eyes almost in unison. Miguel knew he should leave, but he was too far gone at this point to stop. It was over. He was a beaten dog of a man, so why not indulge once more? He silently walked across the room to admire your quivering body.

‘Is that okay, arañita?’ Mig whispered to you. You nodded, and with a grunt Mig lifted your hips for Miguel to see.

You were utterly soiled at this point. Mig put his huge hand on your rear and tilted you gently, showing off the thick white seed oozing down your thighs. He made a point to push some back inside you with his finger, only for even more to squish out. You were stuffed.

Miguel shamefully relished the sight. It was strangely soothing, like he was tricking his brain into thinking he’d finished himself and could therefore ease the rut he was in.

‘This is mine’ Mig purred, his claw squeezing your right cheek until it left a red imprint. ‘This beautiful little creature, is mine. Understood?’

As Mig quietly addressed Miguel again he made a point of sealing your entrance shut with his web, excreting a thick and sticky plug right over your cunt. You oomphed as he did.

‘Yes’ Miguel hissed through gritted teeth.

‘And you won’t stop me enjoying them’ Mig added coldly. ‘I… I, deserve this. I’m not a threat. I’m not like, you.’

Mig felt you proudly shuffle your hips into his palm.

‘I’m not a threat’ he repeated. ‘And you can hound us all you want. I’m done with you now. I have… I have them.’

As you rolled and moaned on the floor Miguel felt his nose involuntarily wrinkling. He was still a mess of anger, resentment, and arousal, all of which were fighting each other in a gut-churning mess. All he knew is, he couldn’t stay here another minute.

‘You’re both animals. You deserve each other’ he grunted.

Miguel stormed towards the nest’s entrance as Mig began to cut you free. ‘I’ll finish my watch outside’ he called over his shoulder, and when Mig’s only response was to chuckle he snarled.

Miguel pushed open the door and jumped to the ground, his feet thumping as he hit the cold forest floor.

As he moved into position to watch he could hear you giggling above him in the nest. He couldn’t make out what you were saying but you sounded happy. Mig sounded happy too, with his soft words and his gleeful chuckles.

Miguel breathed out, hard, his breath turning to vapor in the air. The forest was a sea of black and white, with no illumination spare the pale, draining light of the moon.

He stood, rigid, as he listened to you and Mig laughing upstairs.

And then he palmed his crotch. He rubbed himself hard, his calloused fingers feeling each inch of his own fat girth.

His breath came a little faster. His blood was pumping in the cold air, his body steaming. With a desperately muffled moan he phased his suit away at the groin and began to stroke his cock.

‘Fuck…. Fuck, fuck—’

He was dripping pre-cum in mere seconds as he strained in his own fist. In his mind, he indulged. It made him sick to his stomach but he indulged regardless. He thought about your pleading, your doe eyes as you blinked away those overstimulated tears. The sounds of pleasure. The sounds of being wanted.

It was easy to blank out Mig’s lower body. It was easy to see that as him, to put himself there like a mirror, and to pretend he was receiving your praise, that he was inside you. It was him, after all. His face, his eyes.

No one-night stands. No desperate, animal fucking to placate his brain. He could pretend for one moment he was experiencing something real. Those soft words, that need for more. I’m yours, you’d said. He replayed it in his mind.

So wet. So tight. Squirming on his cock, begging for more. Begging for him. Pulsing, filling, breeding. Being so wanted that you’d let him get you pregnant.

Oh god. Being wanted.

He vicariously put himself in his counterpart’s place, and with his free hand over his mouth he orgasmed onto the ground below. It was hard enough to make his body shudder and his knees weak. He coated the grass in his seed, the strings glistening slightly in the pale moonlight, before slowly phasing his suit back on.

The post-orgasm clarity hit him like a bus. Now satiated all he had was rage. Rage at himself that he couldn’t accept, and so just as he’d vicariously lived through his variant, he shifted all the blame to Mig.

He was going to ruin his counterpart’s life, whether it killed him or not.

But, first, he’d live through him. Link to next part

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #drider #miguel o'hara x you #smut #arachnophilia #smut with plot #miguel o'hara smut #drider miguel o'hara #monster human relationship #monster fucker #miguel o'hara au

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faithshouseofchaos · 5 months

Text

Cat!Stappen part 7

Cat!max x reader x werewolf!daniel

He dry humping me and huffing like a dog

Smut

Tagged— @moss-on-tmblr @vellicora @vivwritesfics @toasttt11 @tooprinceangel @inkfablesandstories @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @venusisnothere @alwayzbeenale @omgsuperstarg @otako5811 @dudenhaaa27 @dark-night-sky-99 @hollie911 @barcelonaloverf1life @formulas-bitch @sarahedwards16 @badassturtle13 @crashingwavesofeuphoria @norrisleclercf1 @ironcowboycopnickel @darleneslane @natailiatulls07 @charlesf1leclerc @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @briefgrungepasteloperator @laneyspaulding19 @yours-sophia-1988 @i-love-scott-mccall

It was now winter break which meant your boyfriend was over more. You weren’t complaining you loved Danny, he was the best boyfriend you had by Far and the strangest. If you had to describe Danny’s behavior you would say dog-like like the one time you both were out on a date and some guy was hitting on you he let out a literal growl, a soft one but still a growl. And not to mention how he interacts with your cat it’s like an unspoken beef. You also notice that when Danny wasn’t around the giant brown curly-haired wolf that oddly resembles your boyfriend was. You were too oblivious to put things together and it was obvious plain as day about the truth of your boyfriend and cat.

He dry humping me and huffing like a dog

When you woke up it was incredibly warm and you were coated in sweat. Your boyfriend and cat could radiate some heat. Speaking of your cat and boyfriend they both were still sleeping, Daniel behind you with an arm draped over your waist holding you tight and your cat laying on your hip and thigh.

Lifting your hand you took your index finger and rubbed the top of Max's head causing him to wake up.

“Good morning Bubba,” you whispered. “Come on, let's go get some breakfast,” you said.

Somehow by the grace of god, you managed to squeeze out from underneath Daniel’s arm. Walking into the kitchen you get started on breakfast. First, you scrambled up a couple of eggs for Max. With earbuds in your ear blasting music you didn’t hear Daniel sneak up behind you. It was only when you felt him wrap his arms around you that you noticed his presence.

“Good morning Daniel,” you said.

“It would have been a great morning if I woke up with you by my side,” Daniel says with his face buried in the crock of your neck.

“I’m sorry baby but we were hungry and you were still asleep”

“Well I’m awake now”

“I know and what would you like for breakfast?”

“You,” Daniel says, pressing himself against you.

Part of you would have thought he was joking you knew he wasn’t joking by the feel of his hard-on against your ass.

“Oh yeah and how would you like me?” You asked tipping your head back to look at Danny.

“On the bed naked my head between your thighs,” Daniel says in your ear as he picks you up and walks back to the bedroom with you giggling.

Using his foot Daniel slams the door shut and tosses you onto the bed. Daniel stalks towards you the way a wolf would its prey.

Oh, how naive you were.

“Oh darlin the things I want to do to you,” Daniel says, running his hands up your thighs.

“Then do it Daniel,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

That was all Daniel needed to hear from you as he ripped (your) shirt off your body doing the same to your panties making you shiver.

“Don’t worry baby you’ll warm up I promise” Daniel says prying your legs apart.

———-

Max was stuck and couldn’t escape. It was like fate was punishing him for lying to you for months now. Maybe it was the guilt setting in, Max knew one thing he wished the sounds of your pants and moans were for him and not his best friend and that was saying something considering how much he loved Daniel.

————

Daniel held your hands above your head as he fucked you. Lips on your neck sucking and biting littering your neck with dark purple bruises.

Now holding both of your hands together with just one Daniel took his free and used it to squeeze your breast.

———

Out in the guest bathroom, Max stood there staring at himself in the mirror, painfully hard. It was wrong, sure he’d done worse but this, this was nothing.

Max took his thumb and rubbed it over the tip of his cock spreading the bit of cum that leaked from the tip of his cock. Max hissed at the sensation causing him to grip the edge of the counter to ground himself.

—————

You were hot sweaty and sticky too blissed and fucked out to register that Daniel had left and gone to the bathroom to run a bath.

The hot water soothes the aching muscles. You knew Formula One drivers had stamina but what you just experienced was inhuman and sex with Daniel was always great.

Sitting behind you was Daniel with a washcloth using it to rid your body of its sticky sweat and sweet release of your and Daniel’s cum.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked, placing a small kiss on your shoulder. Once he got you out of the bathtub and dressed.

“I’m okay I’m just tired” you said, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“It’s okay I’ll take care of things you go to sleep”

“Hey where’s ..”

“Don’t worry I’ll find him and bring him to you” Daniel says knowing who you were talking about.

Opening up the bedroom door a ball of orange fur ran into the room and jumped up onto the bed and snuggled right up to you. If that was anybody else Daniel’s wolf would have torn Max apart but something about the sight in front of him felt right like home.

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aheathen-conceivably · 23 days

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Twilight was beckoning over the horizon, battling with the sun as it sunk below the mountains. Its rays cast the final streaks of light through the sky, sending all the colors of the desert into one final blaze. Antoine rarely stayed at Abraham’s ranch this late, at least not when Zelda hadn’t taken Violette up the hill to meet him in the afternoon. But tonight Abe had besieged him with coffee and cigarettes in an uncharacteristic display of emotion; so Antoine remained, sitting with him as the first stars began to appear in the sky.

The fire was crackling in front of them and Abe seemed antsy, as though he was waiting for the comfort of night before he began speaking. Antoine knew better than to ask what the matter was, or even to be the first to speak, because when he got that way someone else’s attempts to draw the words out only made him bury them deeper inside. So he kept dragging on his cigarette, watching the fire dance as the air grew colder and the sky rapidly fell to the inevitable pull of darkness.

But as the final blue of daylight began to give way to a bruised purple above them, Abe threw his cigarette into the fire and brought his hand to a handle of wood near him that Antoine hadn’t noticed before. His fingers trailed on its tip aimlessly as he kept staring into the fire, “I told you my granddad came out here to herd cattle, didn’t I?” Antoine nodded his head in agreement, a gesture that wasn’t really needed for Abe to continue in a gruff voice, “Well he didn’t. Not really. That came after. He came out here to outrun the patrols after he escaped Alabama.”

Antoine kept his cigarette on his lips. He didn’t have to ask for details to know precisely what Abe meant, or the sort of pain he must have felt in saying any of this. He thought of Silver, and how distrustful she was of anyone. Only horse who ever knew my granddaddy, and he always kept her nearby.

Abe’s finger ran along the wooden handle next to him and a low note escaped it. Antoine immediately recognized it as a B flat, and then realized that Abe’s hand was nervously moving up and down the handle of a guitar, “This was his. Then my Poppa’s. Only Poppa wasn’t content to stay out here. He got some idea in his head that he was meant to be a blues musician. Word after the war was it was better for us up there, so he moved me out to Chicago chasin’ some dream and false promises when I was just a boy.”

Now the words seemed to come more easily, like a song once it started or the faint dissonance echoing from the strings of a rarely played guitar that had the whole story locked inside its cavernous body. “He never gave up. Not when Momma left him. Not when I married Mabel and moved back out here with Grandad. Not ‘til the riots of ‘19 when he was just on the streets, walking alone back from a gig when the crowd found him, riled up on some horrid hatred and set on violence no matter who crossed their path…”

He stopped in his tracks and moved his hand from the guitar to wipe a lone tear from his eye. The faint sounds that had been coming from his hands on the strings settled into the loud silence of a desert twilight, filling in the ending to the story that Antoine didn’t need to hear to know.

Abe seemed to purposefully pull himself back into the moment, redirecting his attention to the guitar beside him. Then he brought it onto his lap and spoke looking directly at it, as though it had a life and a mind of its own, “You know, all his life he had some hair-brained idea that I would be able to play like him; but truth is I’m no better now than when he himself tried to teach me. And if he couldn’t, nobody can.”

He stretched out his hand, offering Antoine the old but clearly well looked after guitar, “I know I haven’t been able to pay you what your work is worth, and you’re always going on about your piano back in New Orleans, so I thought this might bring you some joy. More joy than it ever brought anybody else, maybe.”

Antoine looked down at the extended instrument frightfully, because he knew it wasn’t just some guitar. It was just as alive as his piano had been, because someone had poured their very soul into it. Abandoning it had been like leaving part of himself behind, the part that had been ripped to shreds and then reassembled by the movement of the keys. He yearned for it every day of his life here, no matter how happy he was.

But the soul in the guitar before him wasn’t his memory, or his pain. It belonged to another man, one who had been parted from it in violence and hatred. “I…I couldn’t, Abe. It’s yours. It’s your father’s, your family’s. Surely it belongs with you.”

Abraham stretched his hand out further, the emotion coming back to him for a minute as his voice went raw and he dared to lock eyes with Antoine, “I insist, chap. I want somebody to play it again. Give it life, make it sing. The way he would’a wanted.”

Abe inched the guitar closer to Antoine, and he moved his arms to accept the burdened gift. Because how could he say no to that? He had seen himself in Abe since the day they met, in his humor and the incessant guard he refused to let down. They spent nearly every day together, mostly talking about horses or work, somehow never with the need to show any other side of themselves. Now here he was, without armor or pretense, asking for nothing but to see some semblance of his father’s memory find life and joy again.

As Antoine settled the guitar in his lap, Abe left his hand on its neck for a moment. Then he let it fall away, moving the strings along with him as though it were saying goodbye. With his palm wrapped around them, every echoed sound moved up Antoine’s arm into his soul, as though it were speaking directly to him.

#1933 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #tw racism #Antoine Duplanchier #abraham hines

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lunitawrites · 5 months

Text

Both Sides of the Moon - part one

pairing: biker!joel miller x fem!reader rating: explicit word count: 2.8k summary: After a troubled childhood you move back to your hometown. You are trying to avoid facing the dark past of your family, but you realize it will be harder than you thought when a mysterious stranger appears in town trying to take revenge. TWs: no-outbreak AU, age gap (reader mid-twenties, Joel is late forties), loss of parents, reference to sex work, reference to foster homes, guns, knife, alcohol consumption, cigarettes, Joel being violent towards reader, petnames, reader has hair long enough that it can be grabbed, otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n a/n: hey! so this is my first attempt at writing, I really hope some of you out there will like it. I am eternally grateful to @papipascalispunk who reviewed and edited my work. Thanks a million to @toxicanonymity and @hier--soir for their suggestions! Shoutout to the other Joel Millers on bikes: a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike, jailbird by @toxicanonymity and little mouse by @katiexpunk & @josephquinnswhore masterlist

You are fidgeting with your nametag in front of the mirror, trying to apply it to your uniform, but you must have bent the needle when you removed it last time because it won't stay up now.

“Don’t worry about it darlin’,” you hear Arlene shout from the kitchen, “It's a small town, everyone knows you by now.”

“I suppose they do,” you mumble and drop the pin to the dresser. She's always been nice to you, almost mothering you, since you started working together in the diner. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing out your uniform and walking through the kitchen to start your 7 PM shift.

It's a slow start. The townsfolk don't start coming until the sun paints the sky purple and orange, until the dust strats to settle and the cicadas’ song fills up the night. Your shift begins at the bar; whiskey, beer, salted peanuts, a smile or two for better tips. The bar fills up with a subtle buzz, stench of alcohol and anticipation.

Later on in the evening, Sam asks you to wait tables instead. You usually prefer staying behind the bar, but it's Friday night, the dining area will get busy soon. Arlene will need the extra pair of hands taking the orders anyway, so you pick up your notepad and pen and head out to the floor.

You are always cautious out here, you have to be. The men are not violent, but they always try to take what they think they deserve. A brush of a knuckle on your thighs, eyes lingering on the swell of your breasts, an inappropriate comment disguised as a compliment, fingertips on the curve of your hips as they pass by. Sam, your boss, always makes sure that it’s not more, keeping an eye on you at all times from behind the bar. Sam is one of the few people who knows about your past, who knows that there were times when you were giving a lot more than a smile for some crinkled up bills, who knows that just a few months ago, your uniform was nothing more than a pair of thigh highs and your underwear.

—

You were six when your dad died, and you moved away with your mom right after. You stayed with her for another few months until they diagnosed her. She passed away before the next Christmas. By January, you were in your first foster home. After you got out from your last foster home with nothing more than a few pairs of clothes and the fifty dollar bill that you stole from your foster dad's wallet, you really didn’t see another option for survival.

It started at a gentlemen's club called Red Rose, just outside of Austin, all neon lights and kitsch, velvet and satin from a decade before. They gave you a room in the motel next to it, but only if you worked the after hours shift, so you agreed. You didn't know what after hours meant at the time, but you would have agreed to almost anything if it meant that you would spend the night in a bed and not somewhere outside.

The after hours, you learned quickly, meant selling your body to anyone who took interest in it during the opening hours of the club. So while you did spend your night in a bed, it was with a truck driver named Dylan, who paid you hundred dollars for an hour of you being a good girl, as he described. Forty of those dollars covered the motel bill and twenty went to the club manager for organizing the deal.

You spent six years working at Red Rose, eventually saving up enough money so you didn't have to stay at the motel. You rented a flat with black mold and sticky linoleum floors, sharing it with three of the other girls from the club. You were driving an old Chevy that one of the girls passed onto you after she moved up north. Six years of Dylans and Bobs and Johns and Joses and Miguels. Six years of sweat and spit and bruises and slaps and come, until you couldn't anymore.

You moved back to your hometown, although it was never really your home, and while you knew little about the circumstances of your father’s death, you were still afraid to come back, terrified to face the past. But as it turned out, you never had to, as if there was some silent agreement amongst the town that they never spoke of your family. No one gossipped, or if they did, they did so silently that it never reached your ears. They welcomed you into town as if you were a stranger.

You moved into your old family home at the edge of town. White paint chipped from wooden boards, almost two decades of dust and sorrow covering every inch. You slowly made it your own home, settling into the master bedroom that was once your parents’, but leaving every other room untouched. You have not dared to open the door of your old bedroom yet.

You still drove the old Chevy when you started working at Sam’s six nights a week, the only diner in town, serving the majority of the people who lived there.

—

It's Friday, which means a good crowd and better tips. Friday means an extra drink for everyone to celebrate yet another week survived in this dusty town in south Texas, just above the border. So you move among the tables with a smile so wide that your face starts to hurt.

It's almost eleven now and most of the tables are occupied; workers for their well-deserved after work drink, youngsters pregaming before driving up to Austin for a night out, some couples leaning over their drinks to be closer to one another, families finishing up their meals, greasy hands stopping you to order another basket of fries. The buzz is loud now, the air in the diner thick and heavy with alcohol and laughter. A usual Friday at Sam’s, until it isn’t.

The door squeaks open, heavy footsteps on the floor, broad shoulders in the doorframe. You really shouldn't be able to hear it over the sound of Friday in the diner, but you do. You lock eyes with deep amber, a pair of sad eyes, searching for a place to sit. Strong arms hidden under a black leather jacket, dark wash jeans, disheveled brown curls, almost halo-like, lit by the street lights behind him. The diner seems to catch up with you, surprised faces turning to the direction of the door, sentences left unfinished, whispers let out, cheeks turned red in surprise, Adam’s apples bobbing up and down. Is it? It can’t be. The sounds of Friday fun turn into whispers, and whispers turn to silence. Fear creeps up in your spine, something primal, something unexplainable.

He walks up to an empty table, heavy boots on sticky floor are the only sound now. The squeal of a chair, denim rubbing against the fake leather of the booth, fingers tapping on the tabletop, an impatient sigh. You move your feet from where they were rooted to the ground just a minute ago. Sweaty hands flipping paper on the notepad. You clear your throat before closing up the space between you and his table.

“What can I get you?”, your voice comes out raspy, almost scared. He looks up at you, a faint smile on his face, eyes not quite meeting yours. Instead, he looks at your lips, gaze burning on your skin, you press your lips together, as if you could hide them entirely. Your eyes flick over to the bar, searching for another pair of brown eyes, searching for comfort. But comfort is not what you find, Sam looks back at you with a wild gaze, almost panic in his eyes.

“Whiskey, neat,” the stranger says, now looking at his hands on the table.

“Coming right up!”, you answer with fake cheerfulness in your voice. Legs heavy as you move, “A whiskey, neat,” you say when you reach the bar, waiting for Sam to prepare the drink. You understand that the questions are not for now, the questions are for later. The people slowly turn their attention back to the drinks in front of them, conversations starting again. But still, the air stays as if it was frozen the minute the stranger came in, Friday never has been so quiet at Sam’s diner..

“There you go”, you say as you place the glass in front of him, voice heavy with the accent you thought you never had.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, not looking up at you this time.

Time feels slow, dragging on every minute, every second of the night. You cannot take being inside anymore. You feel like you are going to suffocate.

“I am going on my break,” you say quickly and don’t wait for anyone to acknowledge, just disappear through the kitchen.

The muggy evening air hugs your skin as you open the back door of the diner. Being outside is just as suffocating as being inside, but at least it's quieter. You take a cigarette out from the crumpled package in your apron, place it between your lips but don't light it just yet. You should quit. You exhale sharply and put the cigarette back. Istead, you lean your head back to the wall, looking up at the moon. She's in her full glory tonight, casting pale light to the dark forest in front of you.

You are not sure what happened inside. This man who you are sure you have never seen in your life just woke up something deep inside you. You feel like you are drawn to him by a strange force, a force that is so foreign to you. There was a certain kind of sadness in his eyes that you only see when you look into the reflection of your own eyes. Grief. Lost. Denial. Something that balances between madness and sanity.

You hear the front door open with a squeaking sound. Footsteps, drunk laughter and heavy drawls take over the silence of your break. You are about to go inside when you hear an intoxicated voice call out:

“Where do you think you’re goin´?” the drunk man shouts. “You think you can just walk in here and have a drink like the rest of us? Like you fuckin’ belong here.” he spits. The rest of the men stop talking. Now he is the only voice. “Let me tell you. You don´t. You should not come around anymore. You are not welcome here and you should know that.”

“So what happens if I do come around?” the stranger's voice is laced with coldness. You slowly start walking to the front. You need to see him again. You need to understand what's happening. You feel yourself shaking, despite the warm humidity of the night. 'You should just stay out of it,' the voice in your head says, but you keep walking.

You peek around the corner of the diner. There he is with six men from the town. They all seem fairly drunk. They seem like they are looking for trouble.

“Well, if you are so fuckin´ sure you gonna come around,” he drawls “we might as well just give you a taste of what we are plannin´ to do with you. Right, boys?” he laughs and the men laugh with him, like a pack of coyotes. They all sound way too drunk to do any real harm, but there are six of them against him.

“Try me” the stranger grits through his teeth. He doesn't seem to be afraid, he seems like he would not care if he lives or dies. He seems like someone who gave up a long time ago.

“That ’s enough!” You shout and start walking up to the crowd. ”Go home or I will call Sam out and we will see who won’t be allowed to come around here anymore”. The loudest one flashes you a drunk grin and says: “That is just fuckin’ hilarious. You wanna protect him?” he asks.

“I am not protecting anyone, it’s my job to keep this place running. So I am doing just exactly that.” you say putting your hands on your waist. “Now, gentlemen, I would appreciate, if you all went home and cared about your wives and kids just as much as you care about your liquor. I reckon you had enough fun for tonight. Go! All of you!” you order them.

You are surprised to see that they do. It might be the mention of their wives and the reminder of how they would react if they saw them coming home drunk and all beaten up. The loudest one turns back for a second and addresses you. “You don’t know what you are doing.”

“I guess not.” you whisper and turn your head to the stranger.

“You didn't need to, darlin’. I can defend myself,” he says, drawl thick as the night above you.

“Mhm, you seem like the type who can,” you say with a half smile. He laughs at that, but there is no humor in it. It should not be possible for a laugh to sound that sad.

“You new around here?”, he takes a step forward, cornering you to the wall. His eyes are searching for the name tag on your uniform. As he cannot find anything his eyes flick back to your face again. His gaze lights something up in you, deep inside your stomach. Frozen flames licking your insides. You are terrified of it, you are terrified of him.

“You can say that, moved back recently. And you? It seems like everyone knows you around here.” you say, heart pounding in your throat.

“Wasn't hard to sense that, was it?”, you can feel his breath on your skin. Whiskey, burning on your cheeks.

“No,” you say, casting down your eyes. Somehow his proximity makes you restless. His presence makes the blood rush faster in your body. Your reaction is almost instinctual, you want to rip his flash and sink your teeth into him. To be closer or to get away. You are not sure.

He must sense it, a sly smile across his lips. He lifts his hand, hovers his knuckles over your cheeks tentatively. You are red burning fire. He brushes his knuckles over your left cheek, your chin, the curve of your neck. He rests his palm on your shoulder at last.

“You are shaking,” he murmurs. He takes his hand away. It's almost like you couldn't breathe while he touched you. Lungs filling up with air again. You lock eyes with him. “So what's your..,” he starts but cannot finish, Arlene opens the back door and calls your name.

“Everything okay here?”, she asks.

His eyes darken. Amber turns black. “It's you,” he says, “I should have fuckin’ known.” One hand grabbing your hair, the other turning you around. Rough denim scratching the back of your thighs as he pushes you up to the wall. Head knocking on wood, you feel dizzy. You hear Arlene’s muffled scream, the door opening again. Cold steel pressed into your throat, you taste your death. “I couldn't have planned this better, could I?”, he whispers into your ear.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want from me?”, you spit, fear blinding you as you try to grab a hold of him behind you.

“You don't know who I am? That's good. That´s just fuckin’ good”, he laughs, blood freezing in your veins from the sound of it.

You hear footsteps, Arlene’s breathy cry in the background. Boots then. Heavier than she could be.

“Joel Miller,” Sam says with venom in his voice, “Leave her the fuck alone!”

His gun is pointing to Joel’s temple. Sam takes a step closer, “Get out of here. Right fuckin’ now.” Joel slowly releases the handful of hair he still has in his fist. As he does, a bitter smile spreads on his face.

“Another time then,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. He steps back, walks slowly to the parking lot where he swings his leg over a 1990 Harley-Davidson, the exact same model that is in your father's garage.

You look at Sam, eyes blurred with tears and confusion.You are certain of one thing, and one thing only. Joel Miller wants to kill you.

—

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. Please let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list for the next parts!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #biker!joel #dark!joel miller #dark! joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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