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mssalo · 30 days ago

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dirty old man

You were assigned as Joel Miller’s caretaker, but he’s a perverted old man who just can’t keep his hands off you. And the truth is, you don’t mind one bit—in fact, you want more.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, age gap, caretaker f!reader, joel is a perverted old man (I imagine him around 60-70), reader in her 20s, ddlg dynamic, daddy kink, size difference, rough sex, explicit sexual content, power imbalance, perverted/dirty talk, oral (male receiving), dick riding, degradation, cum play, intense kink dynamics, hint at oral (f. receiving), cumming inside, reader loves herself some old man cock (same)

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· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

You’d been assigned to Joel Miller by the government, part of a caretaker program for veterans and older men who couldn’t quite manage on their own anymore.

He wasn’t exactly the type to ask for help, but his injuries left him with no choice. And from the moment you walked through that door, something shifted between the two of you.

It had started innocently enough—you were just doing your job, helping him with the daily things, cooking, cleaning, making sure he took his meds.

But Joel? Joel was a different kind of man. He wasn’t just the gruff, quiet type; he was observant. He watched you—really watched you. At first, you tried to ignore it, the way his eyes lingered a little too long when you bent over, or how he’d mutter something dirty under his breath when you passed by, something you pretended not to hear but couldn’t stop thinking about later.

The first time he really crossed the line, it was subtle.

His hands would brush against your ass when you helped him up, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. His gaze would trail down your body as you walked by, slow and shameless.

And his words started to shift, the way he talked to you changed.

He wasn’t just thanking you anymore, he was complimenting you in a way that made your skin flush.

The things he said, the low, filthy edge in his voice, it did something to you. You could feel your resolve crumbling.

One night, when you were helping him undress for bed, he let his hands wander. It wasn’t accidental anymore -Joel was testing the waters, and you didn’t stop him.

His voice had been rough, low as he said, “You’re too good to me, sweetheart. A man like me doesn’t deserve someone as pretty as you takin' care of him.”

He’d leaned in that night, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered something filthy, something that made your heart race and your body heat up. And you couldn’t resist it.

You couldn’t resist him.

Joel Miller wasn’t just a job anymore—he was something more.

From that point on, it was impossible to stop. He seduced you slowly, his filthy words and rough hands becoming more familiar, more irresistible until you couldn’t help yourself.

You gave in, and now, here you were, fucking him every chance you got.

What started with stolen touches and whispered innuendos had turned into something wild, something neither of you could control anymore. Joel made you feel wanted in ways you hadn’t before, and he wasn’t shy about taking what he wanted from you.

Joel wasn’t a young man, but the way his hands gripped you, the way his cock filled you, stretched you, made it clear he could still make you weak at the knees. You made him feel things he thought were long gone, things he hadn’t felt in years—desire, hunger, lust.

It was like you’d unlocked something inside him, something primal and desperate, and now he couldn’t get enough of you.

And the way he talked to you, the dirty things that fell from his lips, made your heart race every time. He had no shame in telling you exactly what he wanted, exactly how to make him feel good.

· · ────

From the moment you walked into his life as his government-assigned caretaker, Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not just thinking, but obsessing.

You were young, beautiful and far too fuckin` sweet. Completely out of place taking care of an old, worn-out man like him.

Yet here you were, every day, walking around his house in those tight little clothes, bending over to clean or reach for something, unknowingly driving him insane.

He’d resisted at first, or at least he told himself he did. But Joel was never a man of restraint, especially when temptation was sitting right in front of him, practically begging for it.

And damn if you didn’t start giving him that look—a mix of innocence and curiosity, like you knew exactly what you were doing, yet playing dumb, as if you didn’t feel the way his eyes lingered on you.

The sexual tension had built up so fast, it was like a fuse waiting to blow.

One night, after one too many "innocent" touches, the line between you two snapped. He pulled you into his lap, made you feel every inch of what you'd done to him, and you never looked back.

Now, this—this—was your new normal.

Every time you walked into the room, his cock was hard, his mind already in the gutter, thinking about what he’d do to you next.

Like now.

You were just cleaning up, wearing those simple jeans and that tight little tank top, nothing too revealing but still enough to make his cock twitch.

Joel sat back in his chair, his eyes following the way your hips swayed when you moved.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” Joel muttered under his breath, the hunger clear in his voice. “You know exactly what you’re doin’, hm baby?”

His gaze narrowed as you bent over, your ass perfectly framed by the tight denim, the curve of your body practically inviting him.

Filthy thoughts swirled through his mind—thoughts of bending you over the nearest table, grabbing your hips, and fucking you so hard you’d be screaming his name.

You straightened up and caught him staring, giving him that innocent smile—the one that had him aching in his jeans.

You bit your lip, like you were playing shy, and it only made his cock throb harder.

“You okay over there, Joel?” you asked, your voice all sweet and playful like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to him.

Joel shifted in his seat, making no effort to hide the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’m just fine, darlin’. But in fact, I think I could use a little help right now. A bath maybe?”

Your eyes widened slightly, but there was no surprise. You knew this game all too well. The way his voice dropped to that deep, gravelly tone that meant only one thing—he wanted you.

And Joel always got what he wanted.

“Come here,” he rumbled, patting his thigh, his eyes never leaving you. “Don’t make me wait.”

You hesitated, just for a moment, like you were still playing the role of the innocent caretaker. But you knew where this was heading.

Slowly, you walked over, standing right in front of him. Joel’s eyes drank in the sight of you, his gaze trailing up from your legs, over your hips, to the way your breasts strained against your tank top.

"Sit down," he commanded, patting his thigh again, this time more insistently.

You bit your lip, feigning innocence, but the look in your eyes said you knew exactly what you were about to do.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock pressing up against you through his jeans. Joel let out a low groan, his hands immediately finding your hips, pulling you down harder onto him.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice a deep rasp. "That’s better. You feel that, baby? Feel what you do to me every fuckin’ day?”

You squirmed slightly in his lap, already feeling the heat building between your legs. Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided your hips, pressing you down onto his hard cock.

"You've been drivin' me crazy, darlin'," Joel growled, his breath hot against your neck.

“Ever since you started comin' here, wearin’ those tight little clothes, bendin' over right in front of me like you don’t know what you’re doin'. You’ve been teasin’ me, haven’t ya?”

Your breath hitched, and you didn’t answer, but Joel didn’t need you to. His hands slid up your sides, lifting your shirt just enough to feel the bare skin beneath his calloused palms.

“You’re a sweet little thing,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

“But I bet you like this, don’t ya? You like sittin' in an old man’s lap, grindin' on my cock like a good girl.”

You whimpered softly, your body already responding to his touch, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as he pulled you tighter against him.

His words were filthy, but the way he spoke made it clear—you were his, and he was going to take whatever he wanted.

"You’ve got all those boys your age starin' at you, darlin’? But here you are, sittin' on my cock. You want it, hm, baby?" Joel’s voice was low, his breath hot as his hands moved down, grabbing your ass, pulling you against him harder, the friction between you sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Feel how fuckin’ hard I am?” he growled, grinding his hips up into you, making sure you felt every inch of his cock pressing against your core. “This is what you do to me.”

His fingers slid between your legs, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the damp fabric of your jeans, right where you needed him most.

You gasped, grinding down against his hand, desperate for more. Joel chuckled darkly, his fingers pressing harder, his voice low and commanding.

“Goddamn, you’re already soaked, aren’t ya? Just from sittin’ in my lap. You like this? Bein' told what to do, bein' my good little girl. You’re gonna take care of me now, huh? That’s your job, isn’t it?”

His hand moved to the button of your jeans, and he popped it open with ease, sliding the zipper down slowly, teasingly, all the while his eyes never left yours.

His fingers dipped inside, brushing against your slick folds, and you let out a soft moan, your hips jerking against his hand.

"That’s it, sweetheart," Joel murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"You’re gonna be a good little girl and take care of your daddy. You’ve been teasing me long enough. Now it’s time to do your damn job.”

His hand slid lower, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you trembling in his lap. He growled low in his throat, his cock twitching beneath you as he watched you squirm.

"God, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough. “But this ain’t about you. You’re gonna make me feel good first. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

He gripped your hips again, pulling you down harder, his cock pressing right against your entrance. You could feel the thick, throbbing length of him through his jeans, and it only made you ache for more.

Joel’s eyes darkened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Now, be a good girl and give your old man what he wants.”

You bit your lip, nervous and excited as you reached down, your hands trembling slightly as you brushed over the hardness straining beneath his boxers. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand as you pulled him free, the sight of him, so big and ready, making your mouth water.

Joel let out a low groan as you wrapped your fingers around him, your small hand barely able to take him fully. “That’s it, darlin’. Just like that,” he muttered, his hips jerking up slightly into your hand. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Joel’s eyes darkened as he watched your small hand wrap around his thick, pulsing length.

The sight of it—his cock heavy and leaking in your grip—made something primal snap inside him.

His rough, calloused hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you in place as you stroked him slowly, his hips jerking up, desperate for more of your touch.

“That’s it, darlin’. Fuck, you got such a small hand, hm? Barely fits around me,” he groaned, his voice low and filled with lust. His head fell back against the chair for a moment, lips parting as he watched you through hooded eyes.

But then, he shifted, grabbing your chin firmly with one hand and pulling your face closer "Now get on those healthy little knees and serve me."

You quickly followed his command.

“My sweet little obedient thing, hm? I want you to lick it. Clean.”

You hesitated for just a second, your heart racing in your chest, but the hunger in his eyes and the way his grip tightened on your chin had you leaning in closer, feeling his gaze burn into you as you knelt between his legs.

You could feel the heat of his cock against your lips before you even touched him, the scent of him intoxicating, thick with arousal.

Joels eyes were glued to the sight of you, looking so innocent yet holding him like you knew exactly what you were doing to him. His lips curled into a filthy, satisfied grin as he stared down at you, that dangerous gleam in his eye growing darker.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he murmured, voice low and dripping with lust.

"You got those pretty little lips all ready for me, don’t ya? Go on now, give your old man what he’s been waiting for."

You hesitated, your body trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze, but the excitement was undeniable.

You leaned forward slowly, your lips barely brushing against the head of his cock, and Joel growled low in his throat, his fingers threading through your hair, guiding you.

“Not like that,” he grunted, his grip tightening. “I want you to suck it. Get your mouth on me—every inch of it. Don’t be shy, baby. I want you to show me how much you wanna take care of your daddy."

Your breath hitched at his words, the intensity of his voice shooting straight through you. His demand was laced with control, and something deep inside you wanted nothing more than to please him.

You opened your mouth wider, wrapping your lips around the swollen head of his cock, letting your tongue swirl over the salty taste of him.

"Yeah, that's it," he growled approvingly.

"Good girl. Use that fuckin' tongue. I want you to lick me clean, just like that. You know how to treat your daddy’s cock, hm? Been thinkin' about it, haven’t you? Bein' my perfect little slut."

The filthy words spilling from his mouth sent a flush of heat through your body, your thighs pressing together as you sank deeper onto his length.

Joel’s hips bucked up slightly, forcing more of him into your mouth, and you could feel his cock twitching as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him just like he wanted.

“Fuck, you’re so good with that mouth,” he groaned, his head tipping back as he thrust gently into your mouth, watching as your lips stretched around him. "Get it wetter, baby. I wanna see you drool. Let that spit drip down your chin."

You obeyed, sucking harder, letting your saliva coat him until it was dripping from your mouth, soaking his cock. Joel's fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you back for a moment, his cock sliding out of your mouth with a slick, wet sound.

“Look at that mess,” he growled, his voice thick with arousal. "Fuckin’ beautiful. But we ain’t done, darlin'. No, not yet."

He leaned forward slightly, his hand guiding your face closer to his balls.

“Now lick 'em,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. “I want you to suck on them, baby. Get 'em nice and wet. Go on, clean up every inch of your daddy.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the lewd demand, but you were so far gone, so eager to please, that you didn’t hesitate.

Your tongue flicked out, gently running along the sensitive skin of his balls, and Joel groaned loudly, his body shuddering as you licked and sucked, just like he told you to.

“Good fuckin' girl,” he growled, his voice thick with need.

“You do whatever I tell you, yeah, baby? Such a sweet little thing, always takin' care of me. You know that’s your job, right? To make sure I’m feelin’ real good.”

You nodded, your lips wrapping around one of his balls, sucking gently as you massaged the other with your hand. Joel’s hips jerked slightly, his fingers still tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as he moaned deep in his chest.

"That’s it, baby," he rasped, voice rough. "Suck 'em. Show me how much you wanna be a good girl for your daddy."

Your body was trembling now, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his filthy praise filled your ears. You sucked harder, letting your tongue swirl around him, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

Joel’s expression was dark, hungry, and the way he looked at you—like you were his to use—made your core clench with need.

He pulled you up suddenly, dragging you onto his lap, your body straddling him, the heat of his cock pressing against your soaked core. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his voice low and menacing as he whispered, "You think you're done, huh? We ain’t even started yet."

His eyes darkened as he looked down between your legs, the slickness of your arousal soaking through your panties. He reached down, his fingers brushing over the damp fabric, and smirked.

"So fuckin' wet already," he muttered. “I bet you’ve been dyin’ for this. You want your daddy to fill that tight little pussy again, hm?”

You whimpered, unable to form words as he pressed his fingers harder against your clit through your panties, teasing you mercilessly. His thumb circled your sensitive spot, making your hips jerk involuntarily, and Joel chuckled darkly.

“Fuckin' needy,” he muttered, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your slick folds. “Look at you, drippin' all over me. You need this cock, yeah, sweet girl?”

You nodded frantically, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Joel grinned, that filthy, perverted grin you had come to crave, and slowly guided you down onto him.

As his thick length stretched you, filling you up inch by inch, he groaned loudly, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it almost hurt.

“That’s it, baby. Take every fuckin' inch. You’re mine. This is what you’re good for.”

His voice was rough, commanding, and it only spurred you on as you rode him, your body bouncing on his cock, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Joel’s hands never left your body, guiding your movements, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“You feel my cock deep inside, little girl?” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You’re fuckin' perfect, baby. So fuckin' tight around me. You’re takin' care of your daddy just like you should.”

Joel's grip on your hips was firm, pulling you down onto his cock with a rough, needy pace that made your breath hitch.

His body was tense beneath you, and the way his eyes darkened as they roamed over you—your breasts bouncing, your flushed face—made it clear how much he enjoyed watching you fall apart on top of him.

“Look at you, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal, rough around the edges. “Bouncin' on this old man's cock like you were made for it. You love it, baby? Bet you’ve never had anything like this, huh? Some young boy couldn’t fuck you the way I can. You need a real man, don’t ya? Someone who knows how to handle a sweet little thing like you.”

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest before his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking it hard while his other hand squeezed the other breast, rough but possessive.

His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, and the sharp mix of pain and pleasure sent jolts of electricity through your body.

“You got these perfect fuckin' tits,” Joel groaned against your skin, his breath hot, words dripping with filth.

“So young, so tight. You know what you're doin' when you wear those little tops around me, don’t ya? Teasin' me with this sweet body, just beggin’ to be fucked.”

Your moans filled the room as Joel’s tongue flicked across your nipple, his hand moving to your clit, his thumb pressing in slow, rough circles as he worked your body in tandem with the deep thrusts of his cock.

You could feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you completely, and it was overwhelming.

"Fuck, you’re so fuckin' tight," Joel grunted, thrusting deeper, his voice a low growl in your ear.

"This old man’s cock is fuckin' you so good, huh? Bet you never thought you’d be so desperate for someone like me. You need this—need me to fuck you the way no one else can. Tell me you love it, baby. Tell me how much you love havin' daddy’s cock inside you."

You gasped, your body shaking as his words only pushed you closer to the edge.

His hand gripping your ass, guiding you down harder, faster, as you rode him, the slick sound of your arousal making his grin widen even more.

He shifted his hips beneath you, hitting that perfect spot inside with every thrust, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips.

Joel’s grip tightened on your hips as he grinned up at you, watching the way your body shook with each rough thrust.

“Goddamn, you’re squeezin' me so tight,” he muttered, his thumb pressing harder on your clit.

“Look at how fuckin' wet you are. You’re drippin' all over me. I bet no one else has ever made you feel like this before, hm? Not like your daddy.”

You couldn’t answer—couldn’t find the words through the haze of pleasure that was overwhelming you.

But Joel didn’t care. He could see it in the way your body responded to him, in the way you moved on top of him, desperate for more.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice dark and filthy as he thrust up into you, hard and deep. “You’re gonna come for me, little one? Gonna come all over this cock, like the good little girl you are. You love havin' daddy take care of you, love bein' used like this.”

His words sent a shockwave of heat through you, your body trembling as you neared your release. Joel’s thumb circled your clit faster, his cock driving into you with brutal precision, hitting every sensitive spot inside you.

“You’re gonna take every fuckin' inch, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with arousal. “You’re gonna take everything I give you. You want me to fill you up, don’t ya? You want daddy to come inside that tight little pussy.”

You moaned, your body shaking as you rode him harder, the pressure building inside you, every word pushing you closer to the edge. Joel’s grip on your hips was bruising, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want this old man to fill you up.”

“Please, daddy,” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. “I need it. I need you to come inside me.”

Joel grinned, his eyes dark with satisfaction as his hips slammed up into you, his cock throbbing inside your tight heat. “That’s my girl. You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby. You love this cock. You love bein' filled up by me.”

With one final, deep thrust, Joel buried himself inside you, groaning as his cock twitched, his hot release spilling into you.

His grip on your hips tightened as he came, his breath ragged, his body shaking beneath you. The sensation of him filling you sent you over the edge, your own release crashing through you as your walls clenched around him, moaning as your body trembled, overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm.

Joel’s chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths beneath you, his cock still buried deep inside as his hips gave one final lazy thrust, pushing the last of his release deeper into your tight, slick heat. His hands never left your body, sliding from your hips up your sides, gripping you possessively, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction, low and raspy in your ear. “Took it all inside, hm? So fuckin’ good for me. You were made for this—made to take every bit of me.”

He leaned back in the chair, eyes dark and hazy as he looked up at you, still straddling him, your body trembling slightly from the intensity of what just happened.

His rough hands slid up to your breasts again, squeezing them possessively, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he let out a low, satisfied grunt.

“You feel that, darlin’?” Joel whispered, his breath still hot against your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re full of me now, all stuffed with my cum. That’s what you wanted, huh? Bein' filled up by your old man, just like a good girl.”

You shuddered slightly, his words sending a lingering spark through your body. It wasn’t just the way he took you—it was the way he owned you with every filthy word, every possessive touch.

And even now, after everything, he wasn’t letting you go. His hands continued to roam your body, lazy and deliberate, as if reminding you that you were his.

Joel chuckled lowly, almost smug, the sound vibrating through his chest as his fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.

“You do your Job so well, darlin’,” he said, voice filled with dark satisfaction, like he was proud of you, like you’d done exactly what you were meant to.

“Gotta say, this old man didn’t think he had it in him anymore. But fuck, you make me feel like a man again. Ain't no one else who could take care of me like you do.”

His fingers traced idle patterns over your skin as he kept you close, his cock still warm and softening inside you. He grinned, looking you up and down, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of knowing how much control he had over you.

“You thought you were just gonna come here and help me out, take care of the house, huh?” Joel’s voice was teasing now, low and gravelly.

“But you’ve been takin' care of me in ways no one else could. Every time I see you, I wanna fuck you. Can’t help it, baby. You’ve got me fuckin' addicted.”

You shifted on top of him, still feeling the heat between your legs, the mess of him inside you, and you let out a soft whimper as his cock twitched in response.

Joel chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your ass firmly, pulling you down against him again, keeping you pressed tight against his body.

“You ain’t goin' anywhere,” he muttered, his tone possessive. “You belong to me. You know that, right? There’s no one else who’s gonna fuck you like this, make you feel like this.”

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, and you knew he meant them.

Joel wasn’t just some old man you were assigned to look after anymore—he’d taken something from you, claimed you, and now you were his in every sense of the word.

He grinned up at you, his eyes still filled with that dark hunger, even after everything. His hands slid up to your waist again, pulling you down for another lazy grind, his cock still nestled inside you.

The sensation made your body tremble again, and Joel noticed, his grin widening.

“You keep takin' care of me like this, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low rasp.

“And I’ll make sure you’re never wantin’ for anything else. You’ll always have me to fuck you, fill you up just like you need. You like that, don’t ya? Bein’ mine, lettin’ me use this tight young little body whenever I want.”

You nodded weakly, still trying to catch your breath, your body pliant under his grip. He chuckled again, a deep, satisfied sound that made your core clench around him, even as you sat there, exhausted from the intensity of it all.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel whispered, his voice a low growl. “Always doin' what you’re told. Now, you keep sittin' on daddy’s cock for a while longer. Let me enjoy how fuckin' perfect you feel.”

And so you stayed there, Joel’s hands still possessive on your body, his cock still nestled inside you as the minutes passed.

You knew this was how things were going to be for a while—him using you whenever he wanted, taking what he needed. But the truth was, you couldn’t get enough of it either.

The way he made you feel, the filthy dominance in his voice, the way his rough hands claimed every inch of you—it was intoxicating.

You were hooked, just like him.

You shifted on his lap, your breath finally steadying as the intensity of the moment began to settle. But even as your body started to relax, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Joel’s hands still possessively gripping your waist, holding you there, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you looked down at him, his cock still buried inside you, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

“You might like keeping me here all day, old man,” you murmured, your voice soft but playful, “but now I need to get up, cook, and get you your meds.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk spreading across his face. “My meds, huh?” he muttered, clearly amused, his voice still gravelly and low. “Hell, I think this right here’s better than any meds they could give me.”

His hands tightened on your hips for a moment, pulling you down one last time, making sure you felt the last bit of his cock buried deep before he finally let you move.

“But go on, sweetheart,” he said, his tone a mix of teasing and command. “You do what you gotta do. I’ll be right here, waitin’ for you to come back and take care of me again.”

You rolled your eyes, gently pushing yourself off his lap, feeling the mess of him still inside you as you stood up. As you turned to head toward the kitchen, Joel's hand shot out and smacked your ass, hard enough to make you yelp in surprise.

The sharp sound of his palm connecting with your skin echoed through the room, making your breath hitch, and you couldn’t help but grin, your body responding despite yourself.

“Still fuckin' got it, don’t I, sweet girl?” Joel growled, his smirk widening as his eyes roamed over your body while you walked away, his gaze dark and lingering.

“And don’t take too long, darlin’. I plan to have that sweet pussy on my tongue ‘til I pass out.”

You glanced over your shoulder, flashing him a playful smirk, your hips swaying a little more, knowing he was watching every move.

“You’ll survive a few minutes, won’t you? You are still the strong, stubborn old man you claim to be.”

Joel chuckled, low and rough, leaning back in his chair, the smug look on his face unwavering. “Yeah, yeah. Get that pretty little ass in the kitchen. But you keep me waitin’ too long…” His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur.

“And I’ll be comin’ after you to drag you back here myself.”

You could feel Joel’s eyes on you the entire time as you walked away, that smoldering, hungry gaze burning into your back.

The heat between you two was almost unbearable, thick and heavy, making every step feel slower than it should.

Joel might be older, but the way he looked at you, the way he commanded every moment, made it clear that age hadn’t dulled his hunger—especially when it came to you.

And you knew exactly what he wanted.

Hell, you didn’t even need his words to know. He had a taste for you, an obsession he couldn’t shake. It was the same routine nearly every night.

He’d pull you into his lap, his strong hands gripping your thighs, his voice a low growl as he told you to strip down because he wasn’t going to bed until he had your sweet cunt on his tongue.

You’d try to get things done around the house, but it was useless. Joel was insatiable.

“Come here, darlin’,” he’d say, like clockwork, his lips curling into that filthy grin.

“You know I’m not sleepin’ till I’ve had my fill.” And before you could even respond, his mouth would be on you, licking and sucking until your body shook with pleasure, his deep moans vibrating against your sensitive skin.

Just last night, you had barely made it through the doorway when he had pulled you to the bed, laying you down and spreading your legs before you could even catch your breath. "Goddamn, baby," he’d muttered between long, slow licks, "I’ll never get enough of this pussy."

And he hadn’t stopped until you were trembling, spent, your fingers gripping his hair as he kept going, like he couldn’t pull himself away.

You knew tonight would be no different. His need for you was constant, his desire always burning just below the surface.

And, truth be told, you loved it. The way he made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—had you hurrying to get back to him.

You craved the way he devoured you, the way he worshipped you with his mouth, as much as he craved you.

As you finished up in the kitchen, your heart pounded with anticipation. You knew Joel was waiting, his eyes still lingering on the thought of burying his face between your thighs.

You hurried, eager to crawl back into his lap, knowing exactly what was coming next—his rough, possessive hands and that filthy mouth, reminding you again just how much he couldn’t get enough of you.

And, if you were being honest, you craved it just as much—craved the way he claimed every inch of you with his cock, fingers or mouth - making you feel like you were the only thing that could ever satisfy him.

Your favorite old pervert.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I fear.... I want him biblically....

I`d LOVE to write many dirty scenes with these two, would y'all like that?

Stay tuned - thank you so much for reading and I would love to read your opinions!!

xoxo

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gatorbites-imagines · 26 days ago

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Kinktober day 18

Wade Wilson + Leather/Latex

Readers a spiderman variant of Last stand Spidey, cuz ive been a spideypool fan for years, and cool jacket. I was listening to NSYNC as I wrote this.

2024 kinktober masterlist.

Wade and Logan had never thought they’d stumble upon a spiderman variant of all things in the void. Deadpools, Gambits, Juggernaut and whoever else they stumbled upon, sure. But Spiderman? Savior of the world in many universes spiderman? With great power comes great responsibility spiderman?

Sure, Wade got one of the worst erections of his life when he watched the Spidey whip out a gum, and just blast the head off some variant of The Shocker. His knees almost buckled, Wade almost cumming right then and there. Seeing a Spidey in those tight pants, leggings? Spandex? And a leather jacket, waving around a gun and using it right? That was going right in the spank bank.

The scrunched up disgusted face Logan had, made it obvious that Wades arousal was strong enough for the mutants’ nose to pick it up. But how couldn’t he be so hard his head was swimming? Especially when that Spidey walked towards them, carrying himself with a confidence that spoke of many years of experience.

Why you helped them, even you didn’t know. Maybe it was some part of you that still wanted to be a hero, to help save the universe or whatever. In your own words, you were the worst Spiderman. You were selfish, violent and ruthless, nothing like the light in the dark Spiderman was meant to be. You had hurt your family and loved ones, and killed people who didn’t deserve it, but no part of you felt bad about it.

Hearing this, Wade almost excused himself to go jerk off again for what had to be the tenth time since you partnered up with them. It wasn’t his fault, okay? Spiderman and Deadpool just go together in most universes, you guys were literally soulmates in most universes. You just happened to be real eye candy.

It was surprisingly easy for Wade to talk you into coming with him to his universe. His universe didn’t have a spiderman, obviously he still knew about Spiderman though, he was Deadpool. Logan came along too, but he started grumbling about Wade being a horndog real fast, especially as you bunked with the two as well as Blind Al and Dogpool.

You found it easier than Logan to become part of this world, since there wasn’t really any memories. For Logan it was harder, with the X-men still being alive and all. But Peter Parker and other spider variants didn’t seem to exist. Youd also spent a long time dealing with your problems, so you were even able to get a job.

Guess where you got a job. The Daily Bugle, of course. You were able to snatch a job as a reporter instead of a photographer like you had in your younger days, and somehow you ended up not only befriending Jameson, but becoming one of his go-to reporters. Probably helped that his wife hadn’t died during that robbery, instead she was just injured real bad, but lived.

With your lucrative, or as lucrative as it could get, job, you found your own apartment and moved out, much to Wades despair. He had just started thinking you two were bonding, especially as you had started cleaning your guns together. Wade had even stopped longing for Vanessa, instead turning his attention towards you. and being Deadpool, Wade flirted up a storm, even making jokes about getting a red wig so he could be your Mary Jane.

And yes, Wade stole your spiderman jacket on the regular. You were working a lot, so you wouldn’t notice, right? You wouldn’t notice it being scrubbed clean after hed squirted all over it as he worked himself into a frenzy, huffing the scent of your sweat, gun oil and blood off the leather, right? Of course you noticed, you weren’t stupid, you just… didn’t feel like there was a reason to stop him.

With your new apartment you got to spend more time and space on your hobbies, which just happened to be guns and photography. You were still a spiderman variant after all. you just happened to focus on more than landscape and spiderman pictures, instead you liked taking more extreme or gorey pictures of the latest rogue or villains work, or whatever else crime that was busted around the city.

Wade would giggle and joke about you being some kinda freak as he ogled the pictures too, before turning his eyes to you once more. Wade hung around your place enough to almost live there himself. He had also bled through your couch multiple times, meaning you had to buy a new one semi-regularly.

You even ignored how hed jerk off on your couch when he though you slept, his noises only muffled by your jacket pressed against his face. Wade was pretty bad at hiding it at this point, with you walking into the living room to see him naked from the waist down, dead asleep with your jacket laid over his head. You had a thing for his suit too, so you never said anything. Plus, it did things to your ego…

It took a couple of months before you decided to be spiderman again, wanting to settle yourself before you got into the waves of it all. Plus, the usual spiderman rogues weren’t around in this universe, which meant you just went around dealing with different gangs or high rank criminals.

The X-men also got your help every now and then, even if you didn’t really count as a mutant, whatever that meant. You just knew you weren’t welcome to join their club. Something about you not being born with your powers, and not having the X-gene, meaning you weren’t technically a mutant. Colossus still invited you over for their grill evenings on Fridays though.

What you and Wade had couldn’t be called a relationship or sorts. You guys didn’t kiss, but he jerked off on your couch huffing your scent and licking the leather of your jacket, and you acted like he didn’t. at some point you even started doing the same with his suit, using the leather to jerk your cock and spilling against the insides.

Over time you both grew more confident, or sloppy depending on who you asked. You both stopped cleaning up your messes, leaving your spend all over the others things, meaning you both had to go around carrying the others scent when the mission called for you in a hurry. Logan always looked downright sick when he caught the scent, his nose scrunched up at the hormones wafting off you both.

This kept up for a longer period of time, with neither of you saying anything. Instead just marking the others things in your spend, hell, you had even rutted together on a rooftop, blaming it on “adrenaline of the mission”. The sound of the leather of your jacket and his suit only made it so much hotter, Wades hands grasping at your hips to pull you against him, voice warbly and high pitched from his excitement.

The one time opened the floodgates. That’s when you learned Wade really loved kisses, he especially loved when you kissed him like he wanted to devour him. Wades mouth was always so sloppy when you kissed, his tongue desperately curling around your own as he groaned and gurgled, his hands running up and down your back with need.

He was always so hot, ready for everything you may offer him. Wade had even started opening himself up and finding a red plug to slide home, ready for the moment you decided to fuck him. Of course, he was most excited when the time came and you bent him over some metal storage container in a warehouse, after your latest shared mission.

Wade was shaking in sheer excitement as you rucked his suit down just enough to free his ass, the mutant mercenary giggling and cooing as he waved his hips from side to side. Looking back at you, Wade was ready to finish right then and there, as he watched you open your suit up just enough to free yourself.

He didn’t even get to make a joke about how he plugged himself up for you, your usual patience running out faster than Wade ran his mouth. God, he loved how hard you fucked him, sing that super strength of yours to leave him feeling raw and used in the best way, Wade louder in the bedroom than he was normally, meaning he was almost howling and wailing with want and need.

His words were a slurred mix of begs for more, and some other mashed together comment about how the readers must love this, and how the author sucked at writing dialogue. Like always, you had no idea what he was talking about, instead just putting your hips into it and fucking him harder like he so clearly wanted.

Being a spider variant meant you had little rest period between orgasms, and you had a lot more energy than Wade. Being as backed up as you were, you also just kept fucking him until Wade was almost limp in your arms, his mask finally off his scarred tear and drool-stained face as he tried and failed to beg for more.

Wades cum was sprayed all over the floor and container hed been bent over, pathetic thin spurts shooting out of his tip as you lifted him like he weighed nothing, moving him like a ragdoll as his voice went raspy from all his moaning.

He was kinda cute like this, so fucked out he struggled to form a single thought or word. Especially when he rubbed his face into your jacket, which you had taken off and laid under his head as a pillow. It was only when there truly was nothing more to milk out of him that you decided it was enough and pulled out, cleaning Wade up to the best of your ability.

It was easy to lift him bridal style, letting Wade nuzzle against you and duck his head under your chin. Youd even put your jacket on him, just so he felt some extra safety as you somehow swung you two back to your apartment. You sure hoped none of the X-men had to check out the warehouse later on, it would be hard to live that down…

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myfictionaldreams · 6 months ago

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Light in the Darkness // Feyre/Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn't just Rhys who had been caught in Amrantha's damnatation. For nearly 50 years, you'd suffered with him, in her bed. After years of enduring agony, it becomes almost impossible to resist seeking refuge in the platonic refuge of your High Lord and High Lady. However, after one night of drunken indulgence, you're left wondering if everything you've built to protect yourself is now shattered.

Requested by: ~ ☺ -- thank you so so much for all your support and the request! I absolutely loved writing more acotar/sjm!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, past rape/non-con elements, trauma, PTSD, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, flirting, kissing, drinking, threesome (f/f/m), sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, anxiety, happy ending

Words: 9.4k (lol oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Some aspects of life can be predicted. Happiness, sadness, heartbreak, grief. Death. Every ounce of blessings that had graced your life had repercussions and hardships, something that was always centred around the balance of the world. With good comes the bad.

Years upon years had been filled with joy, laughter, and safety with your friends and family. Naturally, being drawn into the inner circle of the Night Court would bring its hardships, but it would be nothing that your friends or your family could get you out of. From outsiders, you were ranked low within the group, not even having a title to the job you provided; however, you often liked to refer to yourself as Rhysand's conscience.

Where Amren would help make significant decisions for the Night Court as the second in command, you'd be there to offer further guidance daily. Every meeting, every decision, every single day, you would be at Rhysand's side, making sure he didn't make brash decisions and, furthermore, protecting his sanity when, on some days, the weight of the world pressed down on him.

Not only did you save Rhys with your words, but as a high fae, you were blessed by the Cauldron with healing and body manipulation powers. The healing was self-explanatory as to why it could help; there were times you'd been able to bring a soul back, even from the point of death. However, such as life, with life comes pain. A power you used so infrequently due to the distress that you'd often forgotten that it was something you could do. Only on a handful of occasions have you needed to use it against an enemy they begged for death in seconds. It was a strain on your mental health to use this, and with Rhys having his own powers, along with his shadowsinger, there weren't many reasons for you to even be needed for this.

Rhysand would never expect or ask you to use this power, increasing your adoration for him tenfold. To say the two of you were close was a complete understatement. When you both live and breathe the same day-to-day life, the form of friendship is bound to shift into something more. Rhys made you feel safe; the scent of night and Jasmine that accompanied him always wrapped around you like a warm hug.

There was no one you trusted more than him, and when the two of you stumbled into bed years ago, it only helped you discover more of yourself, especially with your powers. Pleasure. You could bestow pleasure onto a person with a single thought. Have their knees wobbling, eyes glazing over and back arching as they orgasmed in a single second. It made your nights with the High Lord all the more entertaining.

Even with the closeness the two of you shared, there was still the label of friendship. You loved Rhysand, and he loved you, but the two of you were still keeping back, aware of the possibilities of mates, and until any bond arrived, the friendship would continue with the thrill of pleasure.

As your role to be by his side continued, this was the unfortunate or devastating mistake of how you were in attendance at the ball that Amarantha had created. All it took was a gathering of high lords and a drink of the magically spiked wine, and the world of Pyrthian would be forever changed. The magic within the High Lords was leashed, and no one was safe from the wrath of the Red-Haired Devil.

You could have driven yourself mad with hindsight, regretting not listening to your gut feeling of not trusting Amarantha. Only the knowledge of being able to keep the rest of your family and friends safe in Velaris was the only blessing, even if it meant a life of agony for 50 years.

Amarantha, in all of her cruel ways, personally picked the High Lord of the Night Court with her need for revenge for Rhys' father, killing her closest ally - Tamlin's father. Rhys had always had a formal villainous reputation amongst the other courts, but now, this is further shadowed by the different courts as Amarantha uses him. To hurt others, break them in a split second, and furthermore, keep him leashed to her bed. He was simply her whore and nothing more to the others throughout Pyrthian. This mighty High Lord, probably the most powerful High Lord there had ever been, had been degraded and dehumanised to nothing.

Nevertheless, where Rhysand stayed, you were by his side.

Rhysand had protected Velaris, the rest of his friends and family that remained at home, keeping them locked away from Amarantha using his Daemati skills, but could not save them.

The first few weeks of the new reign of the Red Devil, you'd been chained in a cell with only darkness and the drip of the waters running down the walls to keep you company. You'd even convinced yourself she had forgotten about you, willing to let you rot away. However, you were forced to kneel before her, and Rhys stood by her side.

There was never a second where you'd blame Rhys for what happened. In fact, over the 50 years, he had saved you in more ways than you could ever repay him for.

You were forced by Amarantha to admit why Rhys kept you so close by. The healing, the pain, the pleasure. Everything spilt from your lips with a single snap of her fingers. Rhysand was her whore, and you were downgraded to being her Harlot, except there was no exchange between sex and money, only sex and not being killed.

Rhy was forced to control minds and occasionally cause pain before death. You were just there to deal unimaginable pain until death, and then both crawl into Amaranthas bed and pleasure her until she promptly sleeps, wakes and starts the process again.

As the years trailed by, the only sight that would keep you going was the flickerings of stars that would light in the depths of Rhysand's eyes when the two of you were briefly alone for mere seconds.

Amarantha kept a tight leash on the two of you. When in her bedroom, you and Rhys were never allowed to touch, and most frequently, you were forced to kneel next to the bed and watch or tie to the bed with the Red Devil straddling your waist with Rhys pleasuring her from behind. You would watch and watch, and then her fingers would snap, and you were forced to make her orgasm, over and over, even with Rhys having spent hours pleasuring her.

These moments were where Rhys would provide support. Even though your eyes had to remain on Amarantha, Rhys would slip through your mental shiels and make you feel numb whilst remaining mentally close so that you didn't feel alone. Often, you would wake without any recollection of the previous night's antics, all thanks to your High Lord, and you wished and begged to the Cauldron that one day you could repay him for keeping you from slipping into the depressive pit that you would never be able to return from.

Then, at the risk of his life, Rhys admitted to having dreams. 47 years, the two of you had been trapped, and he'd been lost to the Red Devil, but hope came to him with glimpses of a woman's life. Hope. It had to be hope, and even though you could only see foggy images that Rhys would share of this person, the two of you would hope that this was a sign of someone who was bringing salvation.

Nearly 50 years had passed, and Rhysand finally admitted to meeting her whilst visiting the Spring Court, falling for the callings coming his way to draw him closer to her. Nothing came as easy as an overnight saviour, but at least you had a name. Feyre. Sweet Feyre. A human girl who had nearly stolen Tamlin's heart arrived under the mountain to declare her love for him and stand up to the Red Devil.

So young and yet defiant. Despite the pain, the torture and helplessness, she never back down. Something in your heart called to her. Maybe it wasn't right to put so much pressure on her to save Pyrthian, but even if it meant you had to take your last breath, you would try anything within your power to save this woman.

Superficial wounds you couldn't heal, but the pain you were quick to vanish as she was kept in her cell between the trials. Moreover, you were more than aware that Rhys was doing just as much to keep her from losing her sanity by having her close to his side, forgetting the world as she drank faerie wine.

The fateful day came, and so many events spiralled into utter chaos. After the final trial, Feyre figures out the riddle but still dies in Amaranthas's hand. Tamlin finally finds courage and slaughters the Red Devil and the High Lords, gathering to bring Feyre back to life as High Fae.

Freedom was unforgettable, and leaving the depths of Under the Mountain was something you'd only dreamed of, but there was now the weight of Rhys' mating bond snapping into place that had the next chapter in your lives beginning.

There was no time to be happy for your High Lord as the King of Hybern began his war whilst simultaneously trying to prove to Feyre that she was safe within the Night Court and away from Tamlin and that you were thanking Rhys and Mor for stealing her from the dreadful place.

Years continue to fly by. Wars, fights, numerous deaths, including Rhys for a moment and finally, FINALLY, the Night court could be at rest and for once indeed be happy with their High Lord and Lady protecting the lands with the inner circle close by.

Having been in turmoil for so long, adjusting to returning home, being surrounded by friends, and trying to remember what it was like to be genuinely safe was more difficult than anticipated.

It was almost like having to try and learn how to live again. What hobbies would truly distract you? What job could you do from day to day as it wasn't necessarily for you to be on Rhysands' side now with Feyre there to aid in the decision-making? There was also the destruction of having survivor guilt and horrific nightmares that had you afraid of the sun slipping behind the mountains every day and night, replacing the light. No amount of talking, counselling or breathing exercises could remind you that Amarantha was truly dead and that everything was fine.

This was how you began to depend on your High Lord and Lady. Both of whom were closer to you than it seemed to be anyone else. Most days would be spent around either of them, whether to help with court business or simply sitting next to them as they continued their lives.

You had realised long ago that you were mostly in love with Rhys and Feyre and depended on them more than others. They never made you feel guilty for this. Neither seemed to mind and often would seek you out if you were starting to feel guilty and keep them safe; they needed comfort and support just as much as you did.

The damage and trauma from Under the Mountain also fleeted from just your mind. You couldn't train with any of the others; even the slightest touch against your skin would trigger red nightmares. You were unsure if it was the saviour complex you'd built around Feyre or Rhys, but you'd only allow them through your hard outer shell.

"Come back to me. Come back to Velaris. You're safe; I'm here; take a deep breath with me" Feyre's soothing voice drifted through your tense consciousness as she blew out a long breath so you could hear the steadiness of her slow breaths. The sweetness of her scent, lilac and pear, then licked through the wind across the skin of your cheek as she knelt in front of you, grasping your hand firmly and helping to ground you.

Your eyelids fluttered first, testing the movements as your mind and body began to return from the horrors within. The rich blueness of Feyre's concerned eyes is what you forced on first, then the rise and fall of her chest as you attempted to copy the movements. It was the first draw of breath that you realised just how long you'd been holding your breath as your lungs burned and your head spun.

The air of Velaris tasted sweet, or maybe it was the lingering taste of Feyre in the air as the ache in the centre of your chest eased and you became more present. The trembling throughout your body continued, no matter how many times Fey's thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

"You're always safe here, with me. It's just us together. Look outside; the sun is still shining, and there's no darkness here". Feyre continued to gently soothe you with her elegant voice.

You'd always found it so ironic that a place called the Night Court, the power to bring forth shadows and darkness from its High Lady and Lord, was actually the brightest and most beautiful home. Free. Unlike how it was Under the Mountain.

Tension struck your spine as your thoughts drifted back to the nightmarish place. Feyre's grip on your hand loosened as she shifted closer to cup both hands around your face, forcing your eyes on her again.

"Don't go back there, stay with me. Talk to me, I want to hear your pretty voice, Honey". It was both the use of her nickname for you and the warmth of her fingers on your face that brought you back from the dizzying nightmares.

Opening your mouth to follow your instructions, you were unsure what to say at first, worried that all that would dribble out would be frightened whimpers, but then a little fleck of something at the corner of Feyre's eyelid caught your eye as your fingers hovered above the area.

"You have a freckle right here that I've never noticed before", you say in a whisper before clearing your voice and smiling at your High Lady.

Feyre matches your grin, showing her teeth whilst doing so and tilting her face so that you're not cupping her face just as she was yours. "Do I? I've never noticed before. Guess I'll have to add it to my portraits".

Your index finger stroked over the freckle as your thoughts spoke before you could probably think as you admitted, "It's beautiful". Usually, only her mate caused the pinkness to blush across her cheeks as she tried to duck and hide her face, the golden hair half drawn into a ponytail now curtaining her away.

Instinctively, you brushed the offending pieces behind her pointed ears, giving you a clearer view of the beauty of Feyre Archeron-Moonbeam. As her sky-stained eyes flicked back up to yours, she coyly softened her smile. And you're a big old flirt; she uses her daemati skills as her lips remain still so that only you can hear.

Only for you, my High Lady, you respond similarly. However, the flirtatious talk was then interrupted by a third, more silky, deep voice joined as the scent of Jasmine and the crispness of night wrapped around you in a warm hug.

I object. I, too, think you're a big old flirt to me, too. It could be my handsome good looks and effortless charm. The intense eye contact with Feyre snapped as you both turned toward the doorway where Rhys now casually leaned against the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and not a single hair out of place. The hypnotic violet eyes wandered over Feyre's form first before doing the same with you before the tension eased in his shoulders.

Scoffing as you and Feyre stood, releasing each other's faces and turning towards him entirely, you spoke the following words aloud. "Excuse me, Almighty High Lord. I think you'll find that you're older than me and a much bigger flirt".

Feyre laughs as she naturally falls into his side, their arms wrapping around each other's waists and his lips dipping to kiss her tenderly across the forehead before focusing his attention on you with a wicked grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Love. I only flirt with my darling Feyre". His mate gently slaps a hand against his chest. As you all know, that was one of the biggest lies to slip from his lips. Rhys simply grabs her tattoo-covered hand and kisses the knuckles before venturing further into the room, only stopping when toe-to-toe with you.

Your neck ached as you stared up at him, admiring the twinkle of stars in his eyes as he asked, Do you want to talk about it?

You knew he was referring to your momentary lapse in consciousness moments ago. Losing the courage to maintain eye contact, you look across Velaris, noticing how the sun reflected and sparkled against the water flowing in the Sidra.

Suddenly having no energy, your shoulder shrugs nonchalantly, even though you knew the man before you could read you better than any other. "Not really".

Warm, calloused fingers grip your chin, turning your face back towards Rhys as you find that Feyre is now by your side, her fingers interlocking with yours, both touching you, the only two to have done so since being Under the Mountain, even if they were innocent touches.

"You can always come to us, day or night. You know that, right? Just call out for us, and we will come", Rhys reassures carefully, his eyebrows drawn together with concern.

Glancing between the mated pair, you try to ignore the burning behind your eyes from the threatening tears as you squeeze the hand holding yours and smile up at Rhys. "What would I ever do without my favourite High Lady and Lord".

Rhys grins down at you, keeping his hold on your chin as he leans down to kiss your cheek, remaining there for a second longer than socially acceptable as you suck in a quick breath as Feyre copies the kiss on the opposite cheek. The two of them move away at the same time as you struggle to control your pounding heart and ignore the desperate throb that warmed your core from being between them both.

It was always like this with the three of you. The longing touches by both of them. The ones that would fuel the dreams would leave you feeling regret for thinking of your friends in such a way, even if it distracted you from your dark thoughts.

To everyone else, it seemed that you were all close. Still, when the three of you were alone, something constantly shifted, and as much as you tried to remember they were mates and nothing further would ever happen, the lasting effects of the increased pulse and arousal remained. Even though you would never act on these feelings, they made you feel alive and safe.

You noticed it then, the shadows that creep into their eyes as their nostrils flare, smelling your dampening arousal. Like always, you take a step back and try to regain control over your actions, masking your emotions with humour.

"You two are naughty. Do you often kiss your friends like that".

Feyre's giggle only adds to your body's reaction as she links her arm through yours and shrugs her shoulder, "I don't know what you're referring to. We were just being supportive", her tone was laced with sarcasm.

Rolling your eyes, your arm taps the arm holding yours, "Of course you were". Leaning into her side, the two of you glance up at Rhysand, who is silently watching the interactions. Eventually, his eyes flicked to Feyres, who tilted her head with a knowing smile. Looking between the two, you sigh dramatically, "I hate when you both talk like that. It's like you're showing off that you can speak mind to mind. Some would call it rude to talk like that without including your company".

Rhys finally smirks as you notice the sweet and seedy tang that now invaded your scents, mixing with the smell of your arousal quickly; you take a step back from them, assuming they're both flirting mind to mind as you can now smell how horny they both were.

"Alright, well, now I know what you're both thinking. I'm going to take that as my opportunity to leave, " you explain whilst walking towards the exit like you usually did when the mated pair became obsessed with the other in similar situations. However, a shadow wraps around your wrist and halts your movements, so you must turn back and watch as Rhys' arm secures Feyre's shoulder.

"How do you know what we are thinking about?" Rhys asks casually.

Once more, you roll your eyes in exasperation, "because I can smell it, and you are both anything but subtle".

"Hmm", he contemplates for a second. "And what exactly do you think we're dreaming about?"

Your tongue suddenly lay heavy in your mouth as you look confused between them both, noting that Feyre's cheeks are once more flushed with embarrassment, or was it arousal?

"Is this a fun game for you both? I'm not sure I'm interested in guessing what you two do behind closed doors". A lie, but they don't need to know this as those thoughts had been fueling your quiet nights between your sheets.

The High Lord and Lady's eyes both lower to watch as your thighs squeeze together to ease the worsening ache there, not realising how noticeable your movements had been as you cough to recapture their attention back to your face.

"Maybe I should have phrased my question differently", Rhys begins to say as he licks his lips. "Who exactly do you think we are dreaming about?"

Your frown deepens with the confusion that only seems to worsen with each word Rhys says. Feyre takes control of the conversation as she steps forward and out of Rhys' hold until she is in front of you, looking like the beautiful High Lady that she is. Her shoulders rolled back, her head held high, and the confidence only added to the pulsing and fire between your legs.

Carefully, you watch every single flicker of emotion and movement from Feyre. From the way her lips part to take in a deep breath, the subtle hardening of her nipples beneath the thin blue shirt she wore, to the way her pupils expand to match the sweet scent in the air. "I, for one, was not and am not thinking of Rhysand", she speaks in a lower undertone than usual, not flinching from your unending stare.

It was your turn to open your mouth, licking the dryness while attempting to think of some kind of response, but it seemed that your mind was void of all conventional thoughts. So much so that the arrival of Morrigan as she winnowed into the room had the three of you flinching and jumping to face the new arrival.

The tall blonde's nose wrinkled as she glanced between her cousin and his mate, "By the Cauldron, will you two leave the poor girl alone with your nasty thoughts? It smells like a Pleasure house in here", Mor claims as she flicks her luscious hair over her shoulder.

You take a step back, thankful that Mor only thought the thick smell was from Feyre and Rhys and not you as well.

"Morrigan, a pleasure as always, dear cousin", Rhys drawls as he casually picks off some invisible lint from his shoulder. This sight has you smiling, knowing he was covering his discomfort with the movement.

Mor flicked her gaze over Rhys before dressing each of you with enthusiasm, clasping her hands together, "So tonight I've convinced the others to come to Ritas, and I need you three to also join to have the complete team there".

"I'll be there, " you say quickly, deciding you need something more substantial to drink after this conversation.

"Us too", Feyre answered as she glanced over her shoulder towards you with a not-so-subtle wink.

Hours later, after the sun had set and your anxiety had risen for a moment, you were now encompassed in the inhibitions of the alcohol humming through your veins. Ritas was as busy as always, and being surrounded by friends, good music and even better drinks, you were very much in your element of happiness.

Despite your friends being gathered around the table you always resided at or in the centre of the dancefloor, you were happy in your little corner of heaven in Ritas, where you could sway on the spot without worrying about feeling strangers' bodies knocking into yours.

The conversation continued to play over in your mind as you felt the coolness of the sweat dripping down the middle of your spine. As much as you love Mor, you could have cursed her to prison for interrupting before discovering who Feyre and Rhys were referring to because even though your heart screamed that it was about you, your mind tried to convince you otherwise. There was no way that your mated friends were turned on by you.

You're drawn away from your thoughts as a slender arm slides around your neck, and the sweet smell of Feyre wraps around you, replacing the salty sweat from the room. Her grin matches yours as she tips her head back, swaying her hips in time with yours as your fingers clasp to the thin material of her peach dress around her waist, pulling her closer.

From the way she laughed, you knew she was just as drunk as you but nevertheless still as beautiful as ever, even with the way her golden hair stuck to her face with the sweat and the glassy sheen over her eyes. You were happy to see her letting go and fully relaxing; she deserved it more than most.

You weren't sure which of you tightened your hold of the other, but now your faces are pressed together, her lips hovering next to your ear so that you could hear her say, "We didn't finish the conversation earlier".

Your feet somehow become tangled with hers as you both lose your footing, but a steady hand from behind keeps you both upright as Rhys' chest presses against your back. One of his hands remains on your waist, his thumb brushing in a circle, and the other reaches around your side to grip Feyre, pulling her even closer against your chest until your breasts are squished against hers.

"Wh-What conversation?" you pretend to forget, the rest of Ritas drowning away in the background.

"Don't play coy with us; I can smell your arousal already", Rhys growls into your other ear. You forget to breathe momentarily, so Rhys's tone calms, "Easy, breathe for us, it's ok. This will always remain a safe space". You appreciated his comfort, but for a moment, all you could think about was the way his lips caressed the shell of your ear.

I think you're beautiful, Honey. Feyre speaks dreamily mind to mind as she pulls away to look deep into your mind mesmerisingly. Her delicate fingers stroke down your cheek as her eyes flick between yours and the lips you're biting. I want you. She states this with such confidence and not an ounce of alcohol slurring her words that your knees wobble.

"I want you too", you finally whisper to her, unsure if the alcohol was giving you courage or making silly decisions on your behalf.

"And you know that Rhys wants you too; nothing about that has changed", Feyre continues as you glance over your shoulder to look up at Rhys as he kisses the side of your head. You nod, understanding that she was referring to your past with him.

"I think we should find somewhere more private, don't you?" Feyre continues as you agree with her.

One second, you're in Ritas, and the next, you're in the comforting bedroom in the townhouse of Feyre and Rhys. The instant calmness of the loud music faded, and the delicate touch of the wind as it floated through the open archway to the balcony. Sighing at the coolness as it kissed against the exposed skin of your arms, you let it distract you from the chaos erupting in your heart and mind.

Rhys moved away first, and before you turned to see what he was doing, Feyre stepped back and grabbed your hand. The two of you laughed wholeheartedly while stumbling over to their gigantic bed.

You both collapse into the centre, laughing at nothing as the springs cause you both to bounce before settling and wrapping your arms around each other.

Rhys leans against the bedpost at the base of the bed, smiling down at the two of you, especially as Feyre lifts her feet and wiggles them in his direction. "Come on, High Lord. Look busy", she giggles as Rhys smirks, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and dragging her feet into his lap. Carefully, he unbuckled the straps of her heels, dropped the shoes onto the floor and carefully kissed the top of her knee as the dress she wore now pooled midthigh no that she was lying down, and then his sights were set on you.

With long strides, he's around the other side of the bed, now closest to you, and begins to remove your shoes as well, but then your feet remain over his thighs, and the reality of the situation finally dawns on you. Like he had with Feyre, his eyes never leave yours as you forget to breathe altogether, and he kisses your knee delicately.

Feyre raised to lean on her fist so that she could look down at you as your gaze turned from one to the other.

"You'll tell us if it's too much, I mean", she asks, appearing more sober as you, too, notice the liquid courage seems to have disappeared from your system as you nod in agreement at her. She smiles as Rhys' fingers caress from your ankle up to your calf. "I've never kissed a female before", she admits as the hand she isn't leaning on reaches across to run her fingers down the side of your face.

"I think you'd enjoy it", you say, sounding breathless, becoming lost in the desire that darkens her usually bright eyes. You're encouraged to continue as her fingers continue to explore your face and linger on your lips. "Kissing a man is nice and dominant, rough. But with females, they're soft, sweet, gentle but demanding if needed."

Feyre bites her lower lip as she glances at Rhys for a split second before turning her attention back down to you. "I want to kiss you", admits eternally.

"I don't think your mate would appreciate me touching what's he", you say, trying to remain as level-headed as possible, knowing that the mind between mates should not be interfered with.

Feyre's eyes gleam with mischief as she looks down at her mate, who has remained silent so far. "My mate wants to kiss you too", she confirms.

"More than you could know", Rhys then speaks, his tone taunt and deep, like he is trying to hold back, but it is all the confirmation you need.

Reaching up to your High lady, you cup her jaw and pull her close, meeting her halfway as your lips connect. The two of you forget to breathe momentarily, simply remaining in place and allowing each of your emotions to escalate before your movements finally catch up to your pounding heart.

Your lips press more firmly, moving against hers until they relax and open, giving you the perfect position to tease your tongue between her lips. You both moan, especially now that you can taste her, feel her loosening and falling more into the kiss, finding the courage to push your head back onto the bed and become more demanding.

Your fingers slip through her hair as you greedily try to taste the other. She was sweet, oh so fucking sweet you could have drowned in her and thanked the Cauldron for giving you the opportunity. Her full lips are cushioned against yours until you're both starving of oxygen and needing to pull back to breathe.

A second, this lasted before her face wasn't above yours anymore, and your High Lord was leaning over your body, his hand now cupping the entire side of your face as he kissed you with greed. The sensation of nostalgia hit, the taste that you'd grown fond of over the years of intimacy before Feyre crashed through your senses. Yet, there was something new and exciting with this kiss, even as you continued to stroke through his mate's hair and hold her to your side as Rhysand bruised your lips, his tongue entering your mouth for a brief second as you moaned.

Then he's pulling back, and you're welcomed to the beautiful sight of Feyre and Rhys desperately kissing. You'd seen them kiss more times than you could count, but being this close, having each of them still clutching onto your body in some way.

Feyre was the first to ease away, tilting her head slightly so that Rhysands lips could move to the slop of her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses until reaching the strap of her dress on her shoulder and easing it down. Coping his movement, you, too, moved the strap off of her other shoulder and the material pooled below her ribs, exposing her breasts to you. There wasn't a second wasted before you moved to lick one of her perked nipples as Rhys nibbled on the other.

The soft moan from Feyre lit a fire in your belly as you continued to taste the sweetness of her skin, but then your head was moved back as Feyre demanded your mouth with hers once more.

With your back pressed against the bed, Feyre attempts to move over you but then halts herself, "I don't know what I'm doing" Feyre giggles.

Grinning up at her innocence, you admire the way that her eyes are half-lidded and swollen lips are pulled between her teeth as Rhys continues to caress her nipples and breasts with his mouth and hands.

Tucking a stray curl of golden hair behind her ear, you explain, "Touch me like you'd touch yourself. Do you touch yourself?" you ask, clarifying. The apples of her cheeks had already risen from the alcohol and kissing, but now they deepened in the shade as she said yes. Rhys growls against her chest at the thought of her touching herself and then begins to remove her dress further down her body until she's naked. You see, seeing that she'd gone without underwear and reached to touch her now slightly sensitive nipples.

Once more, you admire how she hitches a breath at the touch. She still seems hesitant as her fingers draw your dress's edge against your collarbones. Rhys, also sensing her nerves, lies on the other side of you, resting his head on his fist as he wraps his large hand around Feyre's small one.

"Here, let ms show you, Darling", he explains lowly, and you notice that he's now topless, the muscles flexing with his movements and bat wings flared out behind him, hovering in the air.

You and Feyre watch as Rhys moves her hand over your chest, cupping your breast over your dress and squeezing firmly. You can't help but rub your thighs together as the low pleasure builds in your already aroused body, the air thick with seedy scents from all three of you.

Rhys then catches your eye, winking cheekily with a handsome smirk. Within a blink of an eye, all clothes that remained on his or your body disappeared, and now Feyre's hand was pressed directly against your skin.

Your back arches slightly into the touch, pushing your breast into her hand, and then it's your turn to gasp as Rhys moves her fingers to pinch your nipple fiery, tugging it away from your body and then pressing a thumb against the aching area.

It was a sight you adored watching as Feyre tentatively began to learn how to touch your body. There was so much you wanted to do to both of them, and as much as you wanted to give Feyre a chance to move lower, you didn't like the attention just on you. It was challenging to decide whether to touch him or her, but as it was Feyre's first time with a girl, you wanted to see if she enjoyed your face between her legs.

"Feyre, can I be on top of you?" you ask her with a surprisingly pitched voice.

She grins as her eyes glow ever brighter as she rolls onto her back, "You don't have to ask".

Returning her smile, you slip around Rhys and straddle Feyre's waist, leaning down to kiss her hungrily for a few seconds before moving backwards, lower down her body. "I want to taste you". Your words pressed against her skin as your mouth journeyed south, kissing the peaks of her breasts down her sternum and toned stomach. Her breaths were coming out in quick huffs as she squirmed on the bed, legs spreading as your body fit between them, your face pressing against the softness of her thighs.

Feyre's arousal was evidenced by the wetness that now caressed your cheek as you nuzzled yourself closer, resting your weight on your chest and arse perked in the air as you felt the High Lord move behind you. Blowing cool air over Feyre's beautiful cunt, you loved how responsive she already was as she shivered and gripped tightly to the sheet beneath her, looking down her body at you.

Whilst holding her eye contact, you finally lowered your mouth to her, tongue sweeping over her labia and tasting her salty but uniquely beautiful juices. The High Lady's gasp was like music to your ears, especially as you pressed more firmly, dipping beneath and stroking over her clit and feeling it throb against your tongue. "You taste so fucking good".

Rhys, who was licking his lips at the sight, began to hover over both of you, kissing down your spine, causing goosebumps to rush to the surface of your skin. He, too, began to use his tongue to pleasure as he knelt behind you, flicking his tongue into your cunt and pushing in. You groan, and in turn, Feyre does, too.

"I've missed this", Rhys admits from behind as he circles your hole with his fingers, carefully easing a single digit within. This was the first time you'd been penetrated by anything in over 50 years. Amarantha had often tortured you with your arousal, making sure you were never given anything to ease the ache, but then after her demise, even when you touched yourself, you were so sensitive it would only take clitoris to play for you to orgasm.

Your back arches, pressing your breasts further into the bed and arse harder into Rhys' face as he rocks his finger in and out before adding another and beginning to curl his fingers until your whimpering into his mate's cunt. Warmth flushed over your face as you realised just how quickly you were close to orgasm, so you moved with more enthusiasm as you sucked on her clit and then pressed your tongue firmly against it. Then, for the first time in 50 years, you used your powers because you wanted to, not because you were being forced to.

Rhys and Feyre both moan loudly enough that the bed trembles. You'd caused the sensation for him that his cock was now being wrapped tightly down someone's throat and Feyre to fill full internally, with someone caressing the sensitive nerves within her cunt, both nipples being sucked on by an invisible force.

"What was that?" she cries out as she closes her eyes, her hips now rotating on their own accord as she chases her high. You could have made her orgasm with your powers but didn't want to overwhelm her immediately, so you settled in softly as you continue to circle her clit.

Not stopping to answer her question, you match the sensations you're going through and then as Rhys' thumb pressed against your clit and the hurricane of an orgasm pulsed through your cunt and abdomen, you made sure that both mates also came at the same time.

Rhys grunted, one hand coming to rest on your hip and squeezing the flesh as he humped against the bed, staining the sheets with his seed, and Feyre coated your mouth with her arousal, her thighs almost crushing you in the process, but you would have died happy right there.

While still trying to catch her breath, Feyre suddenly announces loudly, "Sit on my face". You and Rhys' face snap up to look at her, laughing at the crudeness of her words that aren't usually that forward. She appears sheepish for once, asking, "What? Did I say it wrong?"

"Not at all", you begin whilst crawling up her body until you're face to face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

With Rhys' steady hands on your hips, you moved to kneel on either side of your High Lady's face, looking down your body at her excited expression. Still reluctant, it takes Feyre's tattoed fingers to wrap around your thighs and pull your body down before her mouth is on your intimate area. You weren't sure who moaned louder, you or Feyre, as she started by licking and tasting between your folds before building more enthusiasm and dipping the tip of her tongue into your pussy.

"You're doing so good", you praise whilst holding one hand on the headboard of the bed and the other slipping into Feyre's hair. Glancing over your shoulder, you admire Rhys, who was on his knees watching the two of you, his hand wrapped around his surprisingly already hard cock. He looked almost godly in this position, the tattoos of the mountains on his knees gleaming at you for more than one reason, his wings spread wide behind him. "Look busy, High Lord; I think our beautiful High Lady's cunt is looking lonely down there".

"It would be my honour, Love", Rhys agrees, moving closer and easing his mates legs over his thighs as he lowers the tip of his cock over her clit, teasing her for a second before entering her. You could feel the rush of air against your pussy as she gasps, rotating her hips as she rocks against Rhys.

You match the movements, rolling your hips against her face as her nose knocks against your bundle of nerves and her tongue moves ever deeper. Everything felt so good; your body was alive with emotions and buzzing nerves. You could have died happy right there, especially as your face is then tilted back and Rhys' mouth is on yours, kissing whilst fucking his mate.

Even with his tongue down your throat, you wish you could praise Feyre; she makes you feel so good, even though it is her first time doing this. And Rhys, he always knew how to leave you breathless and begging for more.

You weren't even prepared as your orgasm rocked you very well. Rhys had to half hold you up as your body trembled, cunt squeezing and pulling around Feyre's tongue until the sensations lessons at you collapsed next to the pair, trying to catch your breath.

Then you watched, with awe and amazement, as Rhys fucked Feyre, their fingers all over each other, grasping and holding as both of them eased closer to their peak. But even then, when both were breathless and arching their backs, you were still being grabbed and included with kisses and touches until all three were motionless in the middle of the bed.

To say you were exhausted was an understatement, having not had two orgasms in quick successions in so long, and the thrill of emotions was enough to have you falling asleep almost immediately. Not before you're checked in by both of them, Rhys wraps an arm around your waist, and Feyre's head rests against your chest.

"Are you ok? I mean - was that alright for you?" she whispers, sounding just as exhausted as you.

"It was perfect", you respond before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

Waking up was not the blissful peace you'd hoped it would be. The thrill of the alcohol had completely gone from your body, and all that remained was a heavy sickness of guilt in your stomach. Last night was beyond perfect. Everything you could have wanted and more, but reality was your worst enemy.

Feyre and Rhys were mates, not only this but your High Lord and Lady. A fun night of relieving tensions for them meant so much more for you; emotions that had attempted to lay dormant were now screaming in your mind that you'd made one of the worst mistakes yet. They wouldn't want you. They couldn't have you anyway. No matter how deep the feelings ran, there was no such thing as a mates pair having a third join.

When the pair would wake, you knew it would be full of awkwardness and 'let's never do this again'. So, with great difficulty, you began to untangle yourself from the duo, careful not to wake either of them as you climbed out of bed.

It wouldn't happen again, and the sooner you realised this and came to terms with it, the easier the pain in your heart could ease. Grabbing your dress that was folded on a nearby chair, you slipped it on and, with your shoes in hand, left without glancing back at the sleeping couple.

You had a room in their house, much like the rest of the inner circle, but there was no way you could remain in the same room as them for a day, at least so, after changing into more comfortable clothes and hiding under a coat, you left to go to your own home.

It was on the other side of Velaris, and on the walk there, with the sun slowly beginning to rise and wake up the other occupants of your home town, you had time to overthink every single touch and moan from last night. Eventually, you arrived at your abandoned apartment, having hardly slept here since your nightmares were so crippling that you needed to stay near Rhys and Feyre at all times.

You attempted to distract yourself by scrubbing your skin raw, trying to remove the scents of both of them away, but when that didn't work, you moved to deep cleaning your home, which now had a thick layer of dust and cobwebs across the surfaces. This was until you could collapse with exhaustion into your cold bed.

The nightmares were there, so violently, in fact, that you were startled awake because you couldn't breathe. Your mouth opened to scream for Rhys to save you but stopped, biting on your tongue until blood coated your mouth. Scrubbing a heavy hand down your face as you caught your breath and eased the ache in your chest, you glanced out of the window, seeing the sun high in the sky, meaning it hadn't been that long since you'd fallen asleep.

Your stomach gave a hungry growl as you sighed, collapsing back onto your pillow, staring aimlessly towards your ceiling.

I was going to give you one more hour of rest before coming to find you, but it seems you've beaten me to it. Rhys' voice echoed in your mind in a deep drawl that had a fluttering of pain seep into your chest as you remembered last night. Deciding to do something you've never done before, you tried to ignore him, turning over and pulling your bed sheet over your head and shutting down your mental shields, but he simply pushed them aside with his talons.

Why are you there and not at home?

Without thinking, you snapped back sassily, This is my home.

He didn't comment on your tone as he continued to ask. Why did you leave?

I needed to shower. You answered simply, knowing it was a useless excuse.

We could have showered together. Rhys purred back, and even his tone was your core warming. Unsure of what to reply with, you decide remaining silent was your best option, so he filled the silence with more questions. I don't want to intrude on your personal space but don't block us out. Last night was-.

I know. You cut off his sentence, not wanting to hear his rejections. It's fine. I'll just speak to you later, Rhysand.

Rhysand? When do you ever call me that? He sounded more urgent with his questions, so you try even harder with your mental shields until a thick wall separates the two of you, and his words are finally silenced. Your emotions finally snap as you sob until you can't breathe.

You remained in this position for the rest of the day. Your hunger is now dormant with the sickness in your chest. The tears would dry and then start again as you feel the ghost of their lips against your skin with the memories that continued to spiral through your mind over and over again. Eventually, the sunset, and you were left with the shadows from the fae lights to keep you company.

Deciding the bedroom only made you feel worse; you move into the living room, sit on the couch, and stare at the wall.

At one point, you could feel the stroke of gentle fingers against your mental shields, but you kept them in place, deciding it was best to ignore Feyre as well. However, a firm knock came on your door late into the night. You wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to leave whoever was there to think you were asleep, but as the knock came again, you decided to just get it over and done with, already knowing who was there.

Opening the door, you're greeted by Feyre and Rhys, holding a plate of your favourite food and both smiling gently towards you, their eyes searching over your body to check you're well but noticing how red and bloodshot the whites of your eyes were.

"A peace offering": Feyre offers the place towards you, but you don't take it; you step out of the way and allow them to enter your home. Moving further into the room, you returned to the corner of the couch, avoiding their eye contact as you tucked your knees beneath you and hugged a pillow to your chest.

Feyre places the plate on the small table before you and sits to your right, while Rhys sits opposite in the armchair.

"I've never actually been here before. It's cute." Feyre continues trying to cheer you up somehow, but you ignore her.

"I'm sorry", you finally painfully say, wanting to get it over and done with.

"Sorry?" Rhys asks in confusion, leaning forward until he rests his elbows on his knees. "For what?"

You couldn't help but flinch, turning your shoulders in to appear smaller. "For last night. For overstepping in your relationship. I shouldn't have let my emotions dictate my actions. I've- I've just been so lonely, and I trust you both more than anyone, but you're mates, and I know what's happened is unforgivable and-".

A delicate hand covers your mouth, stopping your flow of words as Feyre leans forward with fire lighting her eyes, eyebrows set furrowed. "Would you stop trying to say how me and Rhys feel, please? Because I think you'll find you're incredibly wrong with every single thing that you say". Her hand begins to lower, and you open your mouth to battle what she has said, so she quickly keeps her hand over your mouth. "Nope! No talking, just listen. We don't regret anything about last night".

Without using your mouth, you roll your eyes, but that only earns you a squeeze against your cheeks. Rhys then begins to talk, "She's not lying. There isn't an ounce of regret in my body" his eyes remain steady as he stares at you.

"Yes, Rhys and I are mates, and the thought of someone touching what's mine fills me with murderous rage, but when I watched the two of you touch and kiss, I felt anything but negativity. You've not just been anyone to me; you're special to both of us. More than you could ever know."

"You saved my life under the mountain. Without you, I wouldn't have survived her", Rhys admitted, referring to the one person you hated more than the King of Hybern. At seeing your relaxed state, Feyre finally loses her hand from your face as you stare at the deep, raw emotions on Rhys' face, the sharpness as his jaw tensed.

"You saved me too", Feyre continues as you look towards her now. "In those dark dungeons when you would visit to keep me company or healy my body and mind, there's no way I would have survived it all".

She takes your hand, squeezing your fingers as she talks. "You haven't just been a friend to us. Even now that I and Rhy are mates, I feel this longing to be near you. I often thought maybe we are meant to have more than one mate because the way I feel for you isn't just lust".

Your breath was out heavily, not realising you'd been holding your breath as they both spoke, a lightness filling your heart and mind. "I thought you both would come to regret what we did. That my emotions were just one way because you saved me more times than I could ever begin to list. You're my closest friends; save me from the dark each night, but after what we did, I thought I'd overstepped the boundary, and you wouldn't want to see me again".

"Well then, you don't know me then, do you? Because I don't back down from what I want, and I meant what I said when I said I wanted you," Feyre responds passionately as your gaze flicks from her eyes to her lips before Rhys inches forward until kneeling beside you both, his hand resting over yours and Feyres joined hands.

"This may be difficult to understand. Yes, we are mates, but you have always meant something close to me, and I've known for a long time that Feyre feels similarly. I want you, Love, like I want Feyre. The thought of not being able to have you or someone else's hands on you makes me want to strike everyone down" he pauses to take a deep, steadying breath as he rolls his neck to ease the tension and anger that burst from him as his jealous emotions overtake him. "If you don't want to be with us, we'd understand and return to how we have always been. But we can't lose you, even as a friend".

You scoff, unable to hold back your reaction, as you sit up with a burst of energy, looking between them. "Of course, I want you both! I thought it was obvious. There's no way I'm letting either of you go" Your fingers tighten in their hold as you finally smile. Rhys and Feyre sigh in relief. "I don't understand how this is going to work, though, between the three of us. How do we even explain this to the others?"

Rhys shrugs his shoulders, "It's not for them to get. This will be understood with time, but let's concentrate on each other, being together and learning this new dynamic. It's not anything to rush, just that we each understand that we have each other".

Life came with its highs and lows. Even at its lowest, the smudging of hope could draw you out and lead you on a whole new path. All those years ago, never would you have thought you could be with two of the most remarkable people of all of Pyrthian, but by the Cauldron, you were going to hold onto them so tight and never let them go.

#feyre archeron #feyre x reader #feyre x rhysand #feysand #feysand x reader #feyre archerson smut #feysand smut #feysand one shot #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand smut #acotar #acotar smut #acotar one shot #rhysand one shot #mine*

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totothewolff · 6 months ago

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Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver. The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

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2 - Breaking up slowly

As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.

It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.

"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.

He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.

"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him.

Your clothes hit the ground.

You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.

The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.

The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.

You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.

You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown.

He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!

These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.

As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.

The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.

As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.

"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.

"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.

"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.

"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."

"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine."

"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."

"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.

You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.

"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.

"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.

"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.

Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.

"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."

"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."

"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.

"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.

He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.

"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.

"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.

Only if she knew...

Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."

"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.

"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."

Oh God, you hate going up there!

You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.

He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.

You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.

Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you.

Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.

A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance.

Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...

The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.

Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.

"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."

You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."

Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."

You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."

Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."

Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."

"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.

Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.

"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.

"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."

"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.

Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.

The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other.

You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.

You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.

Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.

He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.

You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.

By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.

Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.

She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.

"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"

"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"

"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't.

She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.

"He has a sister," you answer.

"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"

"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"

The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.

"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.

You shake your head.

"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"

You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.

You are in love.

Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval.

Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.

You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!

But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.

The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras.

But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room.

In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.

You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today.

Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days.

You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.

And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.

A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.

When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.

You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him.

You share small, soft kisses for a while.

He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break.

Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.

"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.

"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."

"Where can I meet her?"

He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.

"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.

"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."

He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.

"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."

"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.

Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt.

Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.

The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.

Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.

The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.

Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.

With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.

He nods.

You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth.

His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.

His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.

Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear.

He commands you. "Ride me, now."

You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.

He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.

Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.

Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.

Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity.

The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.

"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.

You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.

You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release.

His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists.

You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him.

"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.

Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.

He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.

Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.

You can't keep away from him.

Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally.

The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.

As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water.

The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed.

As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard.

The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.

Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners.

The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.

Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters.

All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.

After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.

You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.

His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.

As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.

Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view.

Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.

"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it.

"Léo! Hi!"

"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.

Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed.

Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?

He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you.

Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.

"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange.

At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.

When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.

Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.

"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.

"Let's go, kid," he orders you.

"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.

"Move," he instructs.

Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.

The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours.

A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."

You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"

"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.

The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.

Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen.

His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer.

His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one.

He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.

His hands move to press your slick body firmly.

Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest.

He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.

He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.

Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.

With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

"Say it," he demands.

"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.

Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge.

He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.

You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly.

"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.

"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.

"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.

"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans.

"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.

"Again," his dick slams you harder.

"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.

"Again," he slams you with his dick again.

Your whimpers grow louder.

"I'm yours, daddy!"

The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.

Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.

"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.

Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.

Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.

He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin.

You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down.

"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.

Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."

He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean.

Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.

You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.

He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.

He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.

A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.

As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."

"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.

"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."

Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.

When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.

Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.

Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.

Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes.

With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk.

Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.

Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places.

Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.

Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.

Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.

Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.

He picks it up to open your chat.

"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.

He watches a photo loading on your conversation.

A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa.

Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.

No face, just body, in a contrast of light.

Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives.

It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.

"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"

"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."

"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.

"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.

"They should hang them in a museum."

You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.

"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.

"Yes"

"Do me a favor then."

"Sure!"

"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.

"Would you do the same, daddy?"

"Yes."

Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.

As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.

"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.

"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.

"So, no date?" you ask again.

"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.

"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.

"No date, child"

Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.

You two have never talked about your future.

Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever.

The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.

You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.

The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."

The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries.

The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.

Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.

The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot.

You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.

Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.

As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky!

The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.

Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!

You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."

As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.

She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation.

"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"

She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.

Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!

Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!

It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.

No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!

Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.

Apparently, you work here.

You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.

As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you.

It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.

As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.

Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.

The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you.

Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.

You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong.

She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.

You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.

"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.

You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening.

Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.

Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see.

The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"

Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party.

"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.

The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.

Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.

You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.

God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!

A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.

Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.

"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.

"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."

He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.

Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.

Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!

"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.

You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.

He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."

"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!

"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.

"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.

"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.

"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.

Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.

You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch.

Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.

Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body.

The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away.

Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch.

God, you always feel so good.

"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.

Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.

Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.

He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.

Clothes go out of the way.

Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.

He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.

Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.

The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.

Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.

Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.

"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.

He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.

With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.

As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.

Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.

"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.

"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him.

He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips.

Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."

A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.

As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.

"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.

"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"

You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.

You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.

"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.

"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.

"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."

"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!

You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.

What is that?!

You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:

"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."

And just like that, he exits your life.

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formulawolff · 5 months ago

Text

ix. the calm before the storm - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 2.5k

warnings: no smut for this chapter (surprisingly), cursing, age gap, inappropriate relationships, ANGST, yearning, lots of yearning, power imbalances, toto being down bad, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“mr. wolff, there’s a producer from drive to survive who would like to interview you. are you busy at the moment?”

natila, toto wolff’s assistant pokes her head behind the door, the team principal stationed at his desk, scrolling through his emails. he mutters something under his breath. it was probably cursing the netflix crew.

“what could they possibly want right now?”

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natila shifts on her feet, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. of course he was in poor spirits. however, the assistant quickly learned that he was the worst in the mornings, before he had a few slices of pumpernickel bread. his blue light glasses sat on the edge of nose, his hair a haphazard mess. the top buttons of his team shirt were undone, exposing the plain white tee underneath.

it was also pretty common for the team principal to be a complete and utter mess the morning of a race.

of course, natila didn’t mind. it was her job to tend to mr. wolff’s needs. it was her job to coordinate his appearances. his press conferences. each and every event related to mercedes-amg petronas.

after all, he did own thirty-three percent of the team.

yet, lately, the assistant was noticing that mr. wolff was not as invested in the team. he would disappear. often. for long periods of time. with no explanation of where he was going, when he would return, and what she needed to do in the meantime.

it was beginning to become very frustrating.

not that she minded having downtime.

it was just her job to assist the team principal throughout his daily activities. with him being gone, it was like she had no purpose.

a few days ago, lewis approached her, asking her about any information regarding mr. wolff’s dating life. of course, natila knew nothing. she was not close to mr. wolff on that level. also, she had learned in her short-time with mercedes that mr. wolff was extremely selective about information.

calculated, even.

he was not one to just openly share information in general. even when taking personal calls, he would shut the door to his office, preventing her from eavesdropping. not that she wanted to eavesdrop. well, sort of.

natila simply wanted to know why the team principal was such a guarded man.

however, when lewis hamilton offered to a hefty incentive to access some of this information, it was an offer she couldn’t refuse.

besides, she was nosy.

when it came to formula one gossip, who wasn’t?

clearing her throat, natila brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, “they wanted to interview you about last’s night qualifying. the producer was vague. he just was unsure if you had any time this morning.”

“send them in,” toto waves a hand, exhaling, “i’m sure it is nothing too riveting.”

“of course, mr. wolff,” she nods, a little too quickly, “they’ll be in shortly.”

toto wolff arches a brow as she swings the door, leaving it open just a hair. pursing his lips, he straightens in his chair, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt.

he was a mess this morning, a little more behind schedule than he would have liked.

but fuck, were you addicting.

he couldn’t get enough of you.

so, when you batted those damn lashes and pouted just a little bit, enough to his knees buckling, he couldn’t help but stay the night.

even if it came at a cost.

before he knows it, the door creaks, a producer waltzing in, camera crew in tow. the team principal frowns, slightly dreading this “interview.”

what could be so important that they had to interview him the morning of race day?

as the producer settles into a chair, toto can’t help but notice the shit-eating grin plastered on his face, his eyes almost gleaming, “good morning, mr. wolff.”

“guten morgen,” the response was cool, almost monotone.

“so as we know,” the producer pulls out a notebook, flipping open to his desired page, “you are on the hunt for a new driver to replace lewis’ empty seat in 2025. with lewis’ departure, there have been numerous speculations regarding the next mercedes driver. we’ve heard whispers of max verstappen leaving red bull, as well as the team’s interest in carlos sainz.”

“that’s why they’re referred to as whispers,” toto grumbles, fiddling with a pen, “is this why you came to bother me?”

the producer chuckles, shaking his head, “no. we just have to set up the scene. build the anticipation, you know?”

“right.” the team principal clicks his tongue, scribbling doodles on the nearest sheet of paper.

“so,” the producer leans forward, “is there a reason why you were at the motorhome of a certain williams driver? especially with so late in the evening, it was just a bit odd. was it contact talks or is there something more there? the encounter appeared to be extremely friendly, as if the two you have been speaking for some time.”

in that moment, toto wolff’s blood runs cold. an icy, paralyzing sensation takes ahold, sucking the air out of his lungs.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

the pen drops out of his grasp, clattering as it hits the desk.

yet, the shock quickly dissolves to pure, fiery rage.

how dare these people just come into his office, aware of the significance of race day, to take him by surprise? was this sort of maniacal tactic for ratings? some sort of bullshit for the sake of the show?

all the team principal could think about in that moment was protecting you. protecting his golden girl from the media firestorm that would ensue if this was aired.

that was the last thing you needed.

especially with your dominance on the track.

his jaw clenches, the team principal gritting his teeth, “cut the cameras. now.”

“so you don’t want to speak on the matter?” the producer raises a brow, “we can just add in that you had no comment and–”

“whatever you saw, whatever little theory you have concerning my personal life, is absolute and utter bullshit. it’s fucking bullshit. i do not know who you saw, or what you even believed you witnessed, but that was not me. it was someone else. now get the fuck out of my office. leave me the fuck alone until you have something substantial to speak on. go bother christian with that frivolous nonsense.”

“we’re just trying to do our jobs, mr. wolff,” the producer sticks out a hand, closing his notebook, “if this is truly something that you fear will diminish your name and likeness, we will scrap the footage. the last thing we need is a cease and desist over a defamation case.”

“i apologize for my outburst,” toto inhales sharply, clasping his hands together, “as you know, i am just very focused on my team. for the moment, maintaining the reputation of mercedes and preserving our future is my only priority. besides, i am a married man. would you really want to stir up affair rumors? what if they are proven to be untrue? who would look like the asshole then, hmm?”

at the mention of creating affair rumors, the producer’s demeanor shifts, his eyes widening, “oh no mr. wolff, we – we wouldn't want that. while we do have a more dramatic flair to our show, we would never intentionally fabricate a storyline that has the potential to break up a man’s family.”

although the words were genuine, toto folds his arms across his chest, a shred of disbelief lingering.

he had watched the series. he was well aware of the show’s capability to focus on the drama among the teams, stirring up some gossip among the viewers.

“contact me when the footage has been deleted. wipe it from every single possible interface it could be uploaded on. i just want to ensure my wife and family are protected.”

“of course,” the producer rises to his feet, “of course, mr. wolff. i just want to formally apologize, off camera. we were just trying to get some clarification on what we witnessed last night. since that was not you, we will delete the footage. again, i am so sorry. i know how tense things can be the morning–”

“right.” toto shoots him a blank stare, “if you could please, shut the door on your way out. i need to gather my attention on the race.”

“of course, mr. wolff,” the producer motions to the camera crew to file out of the door, “good luck, today!”

“thanks.”

once the crew disappears from the room, the door clicking shut, the team principal lets out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands.

that was close.

too fucking close.

yet, as she watches the film crew meander down the hall, making their way out of the headquarters, natila whips her phone out of her pocket, tapping on the desired contact.

lewis, i think i may have found out who toto has been seeing. she doesn’t ride horses.

text bubbles appear, the british driver quickly responding.

really??? who?!

swallowing thickly, natila glances up, ensuring that toto was still present in his office. her fingers tremble, and for just a second, she reconsiders sending that reply.

yet, she presses send, her heart thumping in her rib-cage as that tiny gray delivered text appears underneath the message.

you may not have to do a whole lot of searching because she’s in the williams paddock.

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“james!” you shout, your voice barely audible through your helmet. all around you, cameras flash, the screams from the fan piercing through the noise.

“we’re about to blast proud to be an american on repeat tonight!”

“you can do whatever you want!” james places his hands on either side of your helmet, his shirt soaked from the sprays of water flying through the air, “you just won another fucking grand prix!”

“i can’t believe it!” your voice falters, tears blurring your vision, “oh my god. i can’t fucking believe it. we did it. we won another one, james.”

“come here,” james brings you in for a damp embrace, “good fucking job. you fucking deserve this.”

pulling away, you choke on a sob as you peel your helmet off, “fuck. i don’t even know what to do with myself right now.”

in your peripheral, a blurry figure comes jogging up, nearly knocking you off your feet as he squishes you against his fire suit, “i’m so proud of you!”

the tears fall, streaming down your cheeks as alex lets go, lily approaching as well. nudging alex out of the way, you can’t help but notice the pink hue tinging her glossy eyes, “come here!”

“are you crying?” you manage to let out a laugh as she brings you in.

“yes!” the word is a squeak, droplets splattering against your shoulder, “you have no idea how happy i am for you.”

“you’re making history,” james’ voice is soft, brimming with pride, “of course we’re emotional. you have no idea how monumental this is. for you, and for our team.”

“well,” you suck in a breath, in an attempt to compose yourself, “i guess it’s time we head towards the podium.”

with alex, lily, and james surrounding you, the tears threaten to spill over once more as you make your way to the podium. all around, fans cheer, shouting your name over and over. smoke from fireworks linger, that burning scent flooding your nostrils.

before you know it, a cool, tingling sensation weighs down your hands. glancing down, you take in the polished gleam of the golden trophy, studying it for just a moment. your heart races, the blood roaring in your ears drowning out the noise below.

you weren’t dreaming.

this was real. very real.

pumping your fist in the air, you raise the trophy, the williams racing crew going absolutely nuts, jumping up and down, raising their firsts along with you.

however, you are able to pick out one individual in that crowd.

toto.

as you lock eyes with him, you’re met with that gorgeous, radiant grin.

he raises a hand, giving you a thumbs up.

your heart swells at the gesture, and in that moment, there is no one else in that crowd but him.

god, if only you could kiss him right now.

if only.

ever since you crossed that finish line, that was the only thing you wanted to do. to feel his strong arms sweep you off your feet, peppering your helmet with kisses, words of praise falling from his lips.

you could only imagine that brassy voice, thick with his accent, showering you with all the words you desperately yearned to hear.

you didn’t want that.

you craved that.

more than anything.

as the drivers pop open the champagne, lewis hamilton stands next to his team principal, gauging his reactions, his mannerisms, his body language.

now that he was aware of his team principal’s little secret, it all made sense. perfect sense, actually.

now that he knew, he couldn’t help but notice the team principal flash a thumbs up to the winner, his gaze fixated on her and only her. he couldn’t help but notice how toto pulled out his phone at the conclusion of the grand prix, his fingers flurrying as he typed away.

he was definitely congratulating his american girl on her win.

who else would he have been messaging? especially so soon after the race?

the second lewis was made aware of that little secret, it took every fiber in his being to hold it in. god, the second he saw george this morning, that was the first thought dancing on his tongue, begging to be shared. yet, he couldn’t bring himself to. regardless of his current relationship with toto, he knew better.

he would have to wait for the perfect opportunity to confront him.

of course, lewis had to be stealthy. it was a rare feat to blindside a man like toto wolff.

after the confrontation, the least he could do was tell george.

after all, george deserved to know. especially if toto was seriously considering singing that american girl to mercedes.

hell, at this point, the contract could have already been signed. it could have been signed weeks ago and not a single soul at mercedes was aware of the breaking news.

toto was always one step ahead of the game. more like three or four steps ahead.

perhaps miami would be that golden opportunity.

after all, it was your home court. you would be preoccupied with the press for a majority of the weekend. you would be attending events, spending time with your family and friends, as well as meeting with current and future sponsors.

you’d be a busy girl, and toto would be in shambles, aching for even a single second alone with his american girl.

so it was settled.

lewis would confront toto in miami.

thank god for assistants. natila would be paid in due time.

and well, lewis would finally get the answers he had been desperately searching for.

turning his head, lewis looks at his team principal one more time, licking his lips as he catches toto staring once again, the austrian’s gaze bursting with adoration.

oh, so not only was toto wolff seeing this american girl.

but he was in love with her too?

oh yeah, toto was fucked.

big time.

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taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010 @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic

if i forgot to add you, or you would like to be added to the taglist for future chapters, please let me know! as always, thank you for reading! <3

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #toto wolff x you #alex albon #alkaline #toto wolff x y/n #formula one fanfiction #alkaline: female driver! x toto wolff

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thiriann · 27 days ago

Text

Delectable

You can also find me on AO3

A short smutty oneshot

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5k

Pairing: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character

Warnings: 18+, Vampire Spawn Astarion × Tiefling Tav ,Traumatized Astarion (Baldur's Gate) ,Getting to Know Each Other ,Falling In Love, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus ,Menstruation ,Oral Sex ,Hand Jobs ,one shot

Summary:

“You look simply ravishing my dear.”

She smiled a bit at the praise but it did little to settle her nerves.

Astarion eased her legs over his shoulders taking the time to caress her thighs on either side of his head. His eyes were trained on her glistening center, glowing with an animalistic sort of hunger.

It felt a little strange, a little daunting… then she felt his breath and then his tongue.

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

“I think I need a minute," Thiriann gasped, her hands on her hips, desperately fighting to catch her breath.

Their day exploring the ruins of the Rosymorn Monastery had been filled with climbing and jumping from roof to roof, leaving her more winded than usual. It was normal for the wizard to lag sometimes, often side by side with Gale, but that day her lack of stamina was especially apparent.

Pain ripped through her midsection as if on cue, and realization dawned on her. She bit her lip, doing the math in her mind. Sure enough, it had been almost a month since she last bled.

"Are you okay there, soldier?" Karlach asked, hoping next to her side with ease.

Thiriann felt a prickle of embarrassment, staring at the boisterous woman. They were both tieflings and both had been soldiers, yet when it came to physical endurance, they were worlds apart.

"Yeah, you know how it is...probably..." she stammered, unsure why she felt the need to be discreet. But after the daily horrors they endured, faltering over something so minor as period cramps made her strangely ashamed.

"It must be that you're hungry. Hold on a sec, I have an apple in my pack," Karlach said, handing her a big shiny fruit.

The woman was an angel.

"Why don't we take a short rest here? My knees can only take so much climbing without protest," Gale offered, ever the gentleman.

As the group spread around, enjoying the admittedly beautiful scenery, Thiriann sat quietly on a flat rock, forcing herself to take small bites even as the cramps had killed any appetite.

Astarion slinked next to her unnoticed, perching himself by her side.

"Is something troubling you, my dear? You look drained, and I know it wasn't me," he inquired in his typical flirtatious fashion.

"I just had a light breakfast and lost my strength," she tried the now tried-and-tested excuse.

"Might I suggest getting it back? I don't travel with you for your personality, you know," he teased.

"That's not funny. I feel like I might pass out on the next vine we need to climb on," she replied, her voice tinged with frustration.

"You've lost your power and your sense of humor? How wretched," he smirked, and she rolled her eyes.

This man would be the death of her. Even after sleeping together multiple times, he was still so aloof and confusing. At times, she wondered if he liked her at all.

His face shifted then, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, only to abruptly close it and squint his eyes.

She was about to ask him if he was okay when he suddenly stood up and announced, "Enough waiting around. Let's go hurt someone," in his usual cheerful tone.

As she sighed heavily and stood up, another painful jolt shoot through her abdomen. Trying to breathe through it she caught up with the others.

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

The rest of the day had been miserable. The cramps were unusually relentless, and by the time the sun was setting, she was panting on every exhale, desperate for her bedroll. Astarion had also been acting strange all day, breaking his thieves tools over and over, stumbling over his own feet and dropping his daggers on more than one occasion. Maybe he was also lacking the stamina for the heavily physical activities they were doing.

She'd caught him watching her a few times, his eyes following her whenever she spoke to the people they encountered. He'd been doing that a lot as of late. Sometimes he'd smirk at something she said, and it would send a spark of joy through her. But the only reason she'd caught him was that she'd started looking at him more as well.

When they finally got back to camp she got the chance to change. Sure enough her underwear were soaked in blood, more than any prestidigitation could clean but at least her pants were salvageable. She quickly cast firebolt ending the garments.

Laughter could be heard from the campsite, everyone gathered to chatter over dinner. All she wanted was to curl up under a blanket and sleep, something which would be impossible given she didn't actually have a tent.

She'd never wanted one, in all of her years traveling sleeping under the stars had simply become her normal. And it felt especially needed during this adventure, with all the uninvited guests they seemed to get in their camp. But now she wondered if it wasn't too late to change her mind.

She had to wait for everyone to go to bed before she could manage to get a semblance of peace.

Sighing heavily she heard the faintest rustle of leaves followed by “Hello beautiful.” It was hardly surprising he'd seek her out at night, he'd been doing that a lot as of late too. He was already by her side by the time she'd noticed him, barely a foot away. Rogues and their horrible sneaky nature.

She turned to look at him. The moonlight was shining in his hair, making the silver strands glow and she found herself truly enchanted by his beauty. They’d known each other for weeks yet he still could mesmerize her with a glance.

"What did the poor silks do to deserve such a cruel fate?" he asked with a lilt in his voice, and she cursed inwardly that he hadn't come later when the undergarments had been fully incinerated.

"They committed the great sin of not being my color. And terribly gaudy," she replied.

"Simply unforgivable. You're better off without them," he said, his voice full of seduction as he slid behind her and placed his hands on her hips.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't ignore the heat he inspired in her with his words.

"I know you're in a spot of bother, darling. It has been rather distracting," he whispered over her ear, his breath ghosting over her neck.

Embarrassment flooded her, and she pulled away, irritated. Of course, a bloody vampire would notice.

Feeling defensive, she turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes, well, I'm sorry for the inconvenience," she said annoyed.

Unfazed by her irritation, he continued in his flirtatious tone. "You know, we could always make the most out of an uncomfortable situation, darling. If you're amenable that is."

"Make the most of it how?"

Taking an elegant step forward, he made sure to move his hips just enough to subtly attract her attention.

“They say a little death could bring great relief during such uncomfortable moments and I am more than willing to help.” he said, his eyes trailing her form from head to toe before meeting hers again.

She was still looking at him as if she knew what the words meant but couldn't make out the meaning of them strung together.

"Come now, don't be coy, darling. I am nothing if not a man of tremendous appetites," he continued.

"You mean...you're suggesting..." she started before quietly gasping mid-sentence as the meaning dawned on her. Her cheeks flushed scarlet in a manner that was both adorable and utterly appetizing.

The instinctive "no" rose to her lips, but then it stopped and lingered there.

The very idea of what he was offering filled her with unease but when she really thought about it, it wasn’t like he hadn’t gone down on her before or drank her blood from various spots on her body. This would be like strangely combining the two…probably.

She'd never done this particular act before, and it wouldn't be an understatement to say no man had ever seen her like this, in this condition. But with him, the thought didn't seem so intimidating. Maybe with him, it wouldn't be that bad. And she was never particularly good at resisting his advances.

"Alright, let's give it a try," she said with a ridiculous, endearing look of determination on her face. "Where should we go?"

"Here is as fine a spot as any. The others are far away, and we have this lovely fire of your former undergarments," he replied, his voice laced with amusement.

She gave him an annoyed look despite barely holding back a smile herself. "You're impossible, do you know that?" she retorted, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him. He accepted it readily, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

His tongue immediately prodded at her mouth, teasing her lips until she opened up for him. He wasted no time dominating her mouth, and she couldn't win that fight even if she wanted to. So instead, she tried to keep up with him, caressing his tongue with her own while tangling her fingers into his soft curls.

His hands, which could never stay idle, started moving up her body, and she caught her breath, causing him to chuckle.

"Cold?" he asked innocently, knowing she was feeling anything but.

"No," she answered anyway, diving into his lips again.

When his fingers brushed against her breast her heartbeat sped up igniting his hunger but he managed to keep himself in check, he always did.

He unlaced her leather top with uncanny precision before pushing one of the straps to the side and grasping her naked breast. The nipple was already pebbled when he flicked his thumb against it. Thiriann moaned in his mouth, her grip on his curls tightening as he continued teasing the sensitive nub.

He released her mouth, trailing kisses down her neck to her collarbone as his free hand revealed her other breast. She pulled his body to hers, needing him closer needing to feel his sturdy frame press against her. Her fingers grasped his shirt, trying to pull him closer, to feel more of him but all too soon he pulled away.

His tongue flicked over her collarbone before he replaced it with his lips and she felt her knees trembling.

“Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable? “ he whispered in her skin "Come darling.”

With elegant ease he knelt on the grass pulling her down in his lap. She followed and they both freed her from her top completely.

Their lips met, wet and messy, and Thiriann's hands were hot against his back, his shoulders, his arms, anywhere they could reach. He opened them against her and allowed her tongue to enter his mouth and glide against his.

He tasted of fresh herbs with just a slight hint of citrus. He'd known they would kiss, known that she'd give into his advances, and prepared for it.

All too soon he took control again and she was swiftly pushed down onto the grass with him crawling on top of her. Astarion shifted his weight onto his right arm, his left hand pressing first to Thiriann’s chest and then sliding down, his fingers tripping over hard cartilaginous bumps and dragging over the soft skin of her belly. Despite his cold skin, heat bloomed everywhere he touched making her pant in his mouth. He shifted lower kissing down her exposed breasts, her ribs, taking the time to linger when he reached her belly, and that simple act felt more intimate than anything they'd done that night and her chest swelled with emotion. Soon he reached the hem of her pants and was as fast at untying their laces as he'd been with her top and within moments, he was helping her slip out of them.

He hooked his fingers in her newly changed underwear and tugged, bringing them down her slender legs.

The fragrance of her sweet blood filled the air along with the scent of her arousal. It was such a heady combination he felt his mind turn hazy.

Her eyes were firmly trained on the stars, afraid of seeing his reaction. It was silly and unreasonable but despite everything he'd said she still felt shame run through her and settle in her stomach. She squeezed her hands around her midsection just a fraction yet it caught his attention and he looked at her face once again.

Soft lips met her knee and she finally trailed her eyes from the stars to him.

“Gorgeous,” Astarion breathed his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled deeply, cheek resting against her leg.

“You look simply ravishing my dear.”

She smiled a bit at the praise but it did little to settle her nerves.

Astarion eased her legs over his shoulders taking the time to caress her thighs on either side of his head. His eyes were trained on her glistening center, glowing with an animalistic sort of hunger.

It felt a little strange, a little daunting... then she felt his breath and then his tongue.

He licked over her folds gently, tracing the places blood had smeared over her thighs. She could see the blood on her hooded clit followed immediately by his tongue as he made sure to clean ever spot of it.

There was no sucking, no nipping, no light teasing of teeth yet. His tongue circled over her clit, just the wet flat of it, and the move got her to exhale a shaky breath.

Her big, shiny eyes watched it closely, the slow yet firm dragging of it making her insides clench. He did nothing more than lick her that way yet that simple movement awakened a tempest of desire within her.

Circling around her hole he felt like he was teasing himself as much as her.

His tongue, moving lightly and almost experimentally, traced over the seam of her before he dipped in deep. A satisfied shiver ran over his body at the intensity of her sweet taste.

Her core tightened up and she had to remember to keep breathing, but it was so hard focus on anything other than his movements on her.

Thiriann let out a breathless little moan when he dipped back down to her, lapping at her with wet flicks of his tongue that she could hear. He opened his mouth wide before tracing his tongue flat from top to bottom and licking all of her.

Her chest rose and fell, stopping only on a hitch of breath when he swirled his tongue over her clit. His lips followed, sucking on her before pulling back and teasing her again. He ate at her with vigor and ferocity she wasn't prepared for, as if the very taste of her was sustaining him, which she supposed was partially true.

He pulled back then and she whined in disappointment making him chuckle at her needy reaction.

“Tsk tsk. Impatient aren’t you, darling? Don't worry I'll take care of you.”

She could only whimper as she felt his hand prod at her center teasing her slick folds before finding her clit and gently rubbing circles on it.

Astarion glanced up at her face, intent on watching her expression as he eased one finger into her and then another.

She groaned at the intrusion, her body squeezing his fingers, trying to accommodate them inside.

Satisfaction rolled over her as his fingers filled her, thrusting in and out with practiced precision. She moaned as he rubbed insistently over her the delicate spot within her, building up the tension inside her before suddenly pulling out.

He brought his fingers to his lips before dragging his tongue languidly over the digits making sure her eyes were on him the entire time.

He made a hum of approval and she left like she might burst into flames on the spot. It was obscene, utterly mortifying and incredibly arousing. A loud gasp left her chest and she had to fight the urge to hide her face.

“Don’t be shy, darling. You’re delectable.”

He was playing with her, a predator playing with his prey and she was entirely at his mercy. He dipped his fingers inside her again and she whimpered at the realization he’d just pull out again and leave her empty.

"Do you like that, my sweet?" Astarion breathed aiming his fingers at her sweet spot again, caressing it over and over, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.

“Astarion, please…” she nearly sobbed tilting her hips into his touch.

“Hush,love.” He shut her down instantly “Be a good girl and you’ll get what you desire.”

The taste of her blood on his tongue and the power over her were getting to his head, making an intoxicating thrill run through him.

She bit her lip, fang digging in as he pulled out to lick at his fingers again. The low growl that left his mouth at the taste set her skin aflame.

He continued his little game for some time, bringing her to the edge over and over before stopping right as she was about to tip over it.

A thin sheet of sweat broke over her body, the frustration and maddening pleasure making her writhe and thrash against the ground.

Finally taking pity on her Astarion planted his thumb on her clit and pressed. Thiriann cried out into the night, her hips jolting at the overstimulation.

“You’re doing so well. You can come now love.”

A sob of relief left her lips at his permission and it barely took a few circles of his thumb before she unraveled. Astarion’s cock throbbed as she spasmed around him, squeezing his fingers almost painfully. He ran his tongue languidly over his slick fingers one last time all while watching her breasts heave as she got her breath back.

It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted more.

She breathed out his name as he made his way to her hole again, this time going over it with his tongue, dipping just slightly inside. She was still so very sensitive but it was soft and cool against her, applying the barest amount of pressure and she let herself enjoy the delicate licks. Slowly their intensity began to increase and she let out a whimper as his pointed tongue went over her clit.

The usual precision of his movements seemed to be faltering the longer he went on. His tongue flicked and his lips suckled and she shivered, moaning now with every exhale.

He grabbed both of her cheeks, digging in his fingers and spreading them before plunging his tongue inside her. A loud unrestrained moan left her lips at the rough treatment and she dug her fingers into the grass. He fucked her with his tongue, plunging in and out relentlessly. It was cool but getting warmer from her heat and oh so nimble, spinning it inside her, licking at her walls mercilessly, exploring all of her.

She moaned his name over and over, the proximity to their companions long forgotten.

She was close; she could feel it in her spine, in her stomach, in her fuzzy head but still her orgasm took her by surprise the second time. She screamed his name as she came and it made him growl right against her core as she pulsated like a heartbeat.

She mewed and panted, and the arching of her back and the trembles of her marvelous body and those damn sweet little sounds she made had him grabbing her waist, keeping her in place as she tensed up from pleasure. Her hands slid of the grass and onto his own that gripped her middle, holding onto him as much as she could.

He slowed down when she came but never took his tongue away, instead he circled it around her hole, over her sensitive lips. He liked every crevice, every fold making sure he didn’t miss a single drop of her delicious blood, chasing her taste.

She shuddered as he licked her clean, even opened her mouth to tell him to stop, it was too much, too good.

All trace of the pain or discomfort was gone as she panted sated on the grass.

He eased away from her watching her with a strange expression on his face. If she had to name it, she'd say he looked pleased with himself and maybe a little puzzled.

Despite licking the blood from her for so long, his hunger had only increased, the flames in his belly burning angrily at being teased but not sufficiently quenched. He’d gone even paler than before, shaking ever so slightly as the hunger pangs shot through his body.

He grit his teeth tightly, trying to get some semblance of control over himself.

She looked absolutely delectable under him with her delicious blood that had rushed to her cheeks giving them a rosy hue and her skin beautifully glistening with sweat. He was sure he could hear her heartbeat as it raced.

She touched his face, just a light brush of her fingers. Astarion seemed only mildly surprised that she would lift her hand to touch him when she absolutely didn't have to, but he didn't stop her or say anything about it either. She cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing over a high cheekbone, then under his bottom lip.

Astarion," she whispered, her breath ragged. "Come here you can feed from me” she said, sitting up to face him.

His face softened momentarily but it was for such a brief moment she wondered if she didn’t imagine it. Instead, his expression was quickly replaced by his usual mischievous smirk as he leaned towards her.

“I was so hoping you’d say that, you sweet generous thing.”

The speed of his hands betrayed his urgency, one wrapping around her shoulder and the other holding the back of her head. It was somewhat awkward to feed in this position, face to face with him between her spread legs but the moment his fangs sank into her neck, nothing mattered anymore. He sucked a long pull of her blood and sighed happily as its heavy weight hits his stomach.

Her body went limp against him, leaning her weight on his sturdy frame for support.Her hands pressed against his chest and she could feel his muscles tense under her as they working on swallowing her down.

Faster than usual her vision began to swim and she used the strength left in her arms to push him away gently.

He growled low in his throat but went willingly. Despite the difficulty of letting go, he felt immediately better after, in control over his body once again.

“Thank you my dear that was…” he paused changing direction mid-sentence “ A truly succulent meal”.

And a very dangerous one by the looks of it.

He saw her eyes move lower down his body and settle on the prominent tent of his trousers.

“Oh? Still not satisfied darling? Aren’t you just insatiable.”

“I'm quite satisfied, actually," she replied, a playful glint in her eye and his ego visibly swelled.

"I was thinking we could take care of you now," she purred, a suggestive smirk playing on her lips.

Her words gave him pause.

“I'd love to but what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you do all the hard work after the day you've had?”

"So, you don't want to?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine confusion. He could safely assume no other lover before had refused her affections.

He considered her offer for a moment, probably too long a moment for something like this.

It had been a while since anyone had offered to grant him pleasure and even longer since he'd accepted.

His body was thrumming with arousal from being kept on edge for so long, from the fresh blood coursing through his veins but he also felt exposed, still feeling a little raw from his earlier loss of control, a sick feeling of vulnerability twisting inside him.

She looked so openly earnest in her desire to please him and something in his chest squeezed painfully.

“If you wish to please me my dear, well, you won't hear me complaining. “he said, leaning back on his hands and presenting the beautiful curves of his body in what he knew was a very flattering manner.

It had the desired effect and her eyes widened, lust written all over her features.

She moved her hands down his front, trailing her fingers over stomach and feeling his abs tremble underneath admiring how he was so sensitive to every touch. Finally her hands reached their destination, pressing gently against the bulge of his pants.

She unlaced his trousers slowly, lacking his precision but making up for it with determination.

His eyes never left her face as she dragged her fingers over his pale blue underwear, tented and soaked around his tip before pulling it down, releasing him from his confines.

In all of their times together she'd never managed to see him fully like this and now nerves were kicking in making her tremble. He was longer than she thought and slender, tip flushed an appetizing dark pink . She traced the tips of her fingers over him, over the blue vein that ran up his side and watched with fascination as it twitched.

As her fingers brushed his bare tip he let out a gasp but caught himself midway and it morphed into a salacious moan. Despite being thoroughly satisfied the sound brought a wave of arousal that made her tail curl and twitch against the floor.

He smirked catching the movement with his eyes.

“You like that, don't you darling?” He teased and she flushed being caught barehanded.

“I like it when you feel good.” She admitted in the end.

“Is that so? You'll have to work a little harder than that I'm afraid.” He said with amusement in his voice.

Determined to rise to the challenge she shot him a mischievous look before she started to bend over, shifting her position so she could return the favor and take him in her mouth but his hand grasped her shoulder preventing her from moving.

“Your hand will more than suffice my dear.” He said with a seductive smirk, but she could see the strain in his eyes.

For a moment, she wondered if he was shy, but shyness was a word she could never imagine associating with Astarion.

Regardless she carried on, wrapping her fingers around him and setting up a gentle rhythm. He was so wet, precum leaking copiously over his tip with every stroke. She spread it over his length enjoying the smooth glide of her palm against his velvety skin.

Thiriann stroked him with the kind of concentration Astarion had only seen her use when casting a spell. This was all strangely new, they have his partner's undivided attention on him, focusing on his every reaction.

She tried to repeat the movements that elicited the strongest response from him but his moans were strange, coming up in odd times that didn’t match her motions. So, she followed the ques of his body instead, the little tremble or occasional shiver as she tightened and twisted her grip.

She thought he'd preen at the attention as he did with all other types of attention. But instead he seemed to shrink into himself , his back slightly hunched and hands tightly fisted in the grass under him. The closer he got to his peak, the quieter he was becoming; the salacious drawled out moans turned into short breathy gasps, interrupted every so often by a low groan.

“You can lean on me.” She whispered. He hesitated for a brief moment before leaning forward and pressing his head to her shoulder, both his hands gripping the curve of her waist.His fingers traced over the cartilaginous bumps there feeling up her form.

It felt more intimate than she expected with her sitting fully naked between his legs, with one hand grasping at his shirt while the other pumped his length. She could feel him breathing against her, smell his sweat mixing with the soap he’d used and hear every sound that came out of him.

He moved closer to her, slotting his face in the crook of her neck. His fangs brushed against her skin as he panted and the image of him feeding during his climax swam behind her eyelids. But that would undeniably end her even if the thought of feeling his bite as he fell apart in her arms filled her with yearning.

He nuzzled against her ear with a gasp and her heart kicked up in tempo, beating furiously in her chest.

His muscles tensed and released under her, hips thrusting in pace with her hand and when she brushed a particularly sensitive spot, it caused a full body shudder that ended in a whimper.

Suddenly he stilled, muffling the cry that rose to his lips against her throat and she felt warm liquid hit her breast and forearm as he spilled in her still moving hand. He took a few quick breaths through his nose as he emptied completely before sagging against her.

Astarion panted quietly, relaxing the grip he had on her hips but not releasing her from his hands, thumbs moving to gently rub circles over her skin.

She unwrapped her fingers from his length and lifted her hand curiously. The cum spattered on it felt almost warm, glistening in pearly white. She wasn't sure what she expected but it looked perfectly ordinary.

An overwhelming urge to taste him rose within her and she brought the coated digits to her lips.

Astarion turned his tired gaze and watched as she inserted her fingers into her mouth. Salty metallic taste coated her tongue as she swirled it between the digits, cleaning them thoroughly.

“You deviant.” He said but there was no heat behind it.

“Hardy worse than what you were doing to me up until now.” She quipped.

He huffed an exhausted laugh before pulling back and tucking himself in, lacing his pants back up swiftly.

“No, I suppose not.”

Taking a look at her, Astarion could confidently say that after their tryst, she unsurprisingly looked worse for the wear, even though she wore a blissful little smile.

"Thank you for this. I think it helped actually," she said drowsily, and he was once more caught off guard.

"Why don't you come to my tent tonight? You can take a much-needed break from the noise, and in the morning, we could continue where we left off," he said, dipping his voice low and suggestively. Thiriann was taken aback by his offer and wondered if that was his strange way of asking for a cuddle. Regardless, his offer sounded incredible, and she couldn't wait to just lay down.

The wooden plank he slept on was far from comfortable, but she'd noticed he'd taken to covering it with his blanket or a bedroll whenever she slept over. It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot all the same.

"I'd like that," she replied.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #astarion x tav #bg3 smut #astarion smut #menstruation #period cramps #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x thiriann

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hanasnx · 1 year ago

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fratboy!anakin headcanons

part: 3 | part 1 ⟹ part 2

minors dni 18+

word count: 0.8k | character(s): anakin skywalker x gn!reader

notes: do not give anyone road head it is so dangerous.

warnings: no use of y/n, mention of reader being shorter than anakin, mentions of copping feels, drug use mention (weed, acid, shrooms) and mention of sex on acid, mention of road head, mention of twitter porn links.

☥ If you sound interested in meditating and yoga, he’d ask if you wanted to join him on the basis he’s “really good at it.”

Sits quietly in meditation with a curated playlist of music and lit incense. Cop feels while he directs your body in poses.

He usually does both in the morning to stretch and center himself and get ready for his day, using a daily YouTube video from “Yoga with Adrienne.”

It’s not that you’re bad at it or know the poses by name but when he sees you putting pressure on your knee incorrectly, he comes up behind you real close and moves your body for you. Puts his big hands on your hips and pulls you back into him, and acts all innocent when you call him on it. He knows what he’s doing.

Showering you with compliments. “Lookin’ good, baby, you sure you haven’t done this before?”

and “I see you closing up here. lemme relax you.” beginning to massage your thighs, sliding up to your ass— as if it isn’t intimate enough already.

There’s a part of you that wants to keep dangling yourself out of his reach. “Ani, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

When he speaks, his lips murmur against the back of your head, warm breath washing over your neck. “It’s okay, it’s just yoga; you’re so tense.”

☥ He doesn’t sleep much. Nightmares aren’t an uncommon occurrence, but he suffers from a case of insomnia for a number of other reasons. So his time is spent doing other things. He has the graveyard shift at his job which tires him out enough for an hour or two long power nap until he can get to class or the gym or hockey practice.

☥ Extremely disciplined despite your preconceived notions. He sticks to a schedule: a healthy diet; takes his job seriously (even if he believes he’s the best person there and should move on to better things); committing to hockey and its demands; and has a brain that processes things like homework in a record time you’re envious of.

☥ Does smoke weed occasionally for “spirituality.” He’s done acid and shrooms for the same reason. All three being low on the risk factor of drug use, which is one of the reasons he was comfortable trying them out.

He wants to take a tab with you and fuck. All of your senses heightened, and inhibitions lowered. It’s mind-blowing. He wants to blow your mind and your back out.

☥ Has gotten road head from you before. It only made him drive faster.

☥ Plays Minecraft with you and you have a server together. (Named after your ship name. He doesn’t tell you that.)

☥ Movie nights where you swap your favorites. You show him Pride and Prejudice (2005) and he shows you Tron: Legacy (2010).

☥ Sends you Twitter porn links captioned; “us💕”

#ch: fratboy!anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #reader insert #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker imagine

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datesinredink · 9 months ago

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General yandere Danny Phantom headcanons

Definitely overprotective, I mean, c'mon, have you seen what he deals with daily? Boys got trauma

Really really hesitant about letting you fight ghosts with him- can be convinced but if you ever get hurt beyond something like scraped knees he’s not letting you ghost hunt again

If you break a bone may god forgive whatever poor ghost hurt you because he sure won’t

Anyway, he's also really sweet. It's almost sickeningly sweet at times

Bro is smitten. He tries to do cute stuff with you when he’s not busy with ghosts but unfortunately he doesn’t get a break very often

By the way, you're gonna have to deal with some degree of manipulation. He swears he’s just trying to convince you to make the better choice, but honestly who is he kidding. For the most part at least he’s trying to keep you to himself. Maybe he’ll be ok with Sam hanging around you, but Tucker is standing on thin ice.

Moving on. Of course he's gonna take advantage of his ghost powers to stalk you we’re talking about a yandere au

Also leaves little trinkets that he either found in the lab or made himself around your house. You don't know who's leaving green and white bracelets in your room or how they got in while all the doors and windows were locked but you sure wish they’d go away

I think he’d be kinda touch starved tbh. Am I crazy? Maybe. Am I projecting here a little. Most likely.

Usually has a hand on you somewhere- shoulders, hand, back, whatever. He's just really physically affectionate

Won’t kill anyone, but isn't above harassing people to make them go away

Gets really possessive when he’s jealous but also you’re gonna have to strangle it out of him if you wanna know why he gets really weird around any one person

Not all that quick to jealousy though!!! Maybe mild annoyance but usually not much further than that

One way to trigger it though is if you’re fine with him being touchy/are affectionate with him and then are the same way towards someone else. He may convince himself you're leading him on

Kinda goes by the logic of ‘well he’s best friends with Sam but he's not like THAT with HER so why would you be so affectionate with some other guy’

He does not grasp the idea that maybe you're more comfortable with physical affection with others than him. He should work on that.

End note here because this is kinda long, i’m running out of things to put here, and I’ve been working on this for something around 3 nights, kudos to the… *checks tag* one person who’s semi active in the yandere danny phantom tag. I dunno how you managed to come up with stuff without any other people to add fuel to the idea fire here, but great job. I could never.

#yandere danny phantom #danny phantom x reader #danny phantom #woooo first writing post here #I apologize for any typos I wrote this near exclusively at night and during school #Strawberry's basket

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midnightwriter21 · 1 year ago

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jjk hcs: their favorite types of kisses

characters: reader x gojo, reader x geto

warnings: language (i have the mouth of a sailor sry)

AN: i am a geto apologist til the day i die argue w ya mama

also if u want another part w diff character lmk!!

SATORU GOJO

giving: a kiss to the top of YOUR eyelids

we all know that he has the most beautiful & powerful eyes of all time

but it’s your eyes that knock the breath out of him

no matter the color he thinks they’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen

in his mind your eyes overpower his any day

i mean your eyes are the only thing to ever have the ability to bring the strongest sorcerer to his knees

and besides your eyes are the first to ever see him

the real him

not gojo satoru, the honored one

or gojo satoru, the six eyes

you just see, him, satoru

the satoru that hogs the blankets at night

the satoru that lets a few tears slip during romance movies but you better not bring it up bc “no i just got something in my eyes!!”

the satoru that adopted two children at 16 and had no idea what he was doing but did a damn good job at it

the satoru that loves you because you see the things that other people wouldn’t be bothered to see

receiving: a kiss to the underside of his jaw

this is a tall ass man

so it’s unlikely (but ofc always possible) that you’re tall enough to plant a kiss on his cheek without him bending down for you to reach

big tall man make me go brrrrr

he will bend down for u ofc

after teasing u to death

but he thinks it’s much cuter to see you stand on ur tip toes to give him a kiss

plus he’s hot, he knows he’s hot

i can hear his annoying ass rn, “cmon babe you gotta be careful kissing me there! this jawline is sharp enough to cut steel”

like yea.. it is.. but shut the fuck up an lemme kiss u some more

i love him

SUGURU GETO

giving: a kiss on your forehead

I LOVE HIM HE WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING TO HURT ANYONE EVER I KNOW BECAUSE HE TOLD ME SO

ahem… anyways

sweetheart of sweethearts!!

he’s a lil more reserved when it comes to PDA but not to the point where he’s not gonna show you affection

he’s just not the typa person to have a full on make out sesh with you in the hallway if ykwim

but he will plant a kiss in the middle of your forehead after he walks you to your next class

oh y’all just finished a mission and you’re going back to your dorm to take a nap?

1. bold of you to assume he’s not coming with you and kissing you on the forehead before y’all fall asleep together all cuddled up

2. if he’s not taking a nap with you, he’s tucking you into bed and leaving a kiss on your forehead before he leaves your room

id marry him cause he’s never done anything wrong in his entire life

receiving: a kiss to the top of his knuckles

HE WOULD RECEIVE KISSES EVERYWHERE IF IT WERE FROM ME

again… ahem.. anyways

jujitsu sorcery in the wise words of nanami kento “SUCKS”

it sucks

and he uses his hands to fight and kill allegedly on the daily

his hands have been covered in blood

his hands have brought death upon people no they haven’t

so for you to kiss them?

geto takes it as a declaration of undeniable, unfaltering loyalty and love

which it is obviously

it means a lot to him

and sometimes when his doubts get to him and he thinks he’s unworthy of someone like you…

press a kiss to the top of his knuckles and those thoughts and insecurities disappear

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mychlapci · 12 days ago

Note

Alright apologies my liege this is just sending a whole fanfic in the ask box but the centipede has given me the power to write pussy vore, glory to the kingdom or whatever

After a long long day on duty, Minimus finally makes it back to his hab with a stack of datapads in his arms ready to start his post-work work. It was a hard and mostly thankless job, but it had to be done by someone, and thankfully to Minimus, the one person who did thank him for his dedication was sprawled out in their berth with his modestly playing already removed. Minimus glanced at Megatron as he set his datapads down before he turned his head once again to take a full look at his conjunx. That's right, he thought, he and Megatron did plan on interfacing after Minimus' late shift. It was even on Minimus' schedule.

All the commotion reigning in dumb scuffles and listening to Rodimus talk his audials off had Minimus totally blank on his plans. It feels bad to let down Megatron and it feels even worse to deny himself his own needs, but Minimus promises Megatron he would make everything up to Megatron the next evening, but now he was falling behind on his reports and needed a little peace and quiet. Megatron is disappointed of course, but he knows Minimus would never let his duties slip. He's a big mech though, a big mech with high charge. He can entertain himself without Minimus.

Heavy venting is what finally made Minimus turn away from his stack of datapads. He could tune out the, squelching noises of lubricant and the quiet creaks of the berth, but Megatron's breathy restrained moans as he slipped a fat fake spike up his valve made Minimus need to turn. He watched Megatron, already feeling his spike slamming into his modestly panel. Primus, he wanted to be in that spike's place so badly. A quick break wouldn't exactly kill him, it wasn't like Rodimus would even read his daily reports until he was a month behind on them. He couldn't even focus with how overcharged his body was after all, he just needed some time to work through it.

Minimus hops up onto the berth, feeling Megatron's optics on him. Megatron allows Minimus to pull the toy from his valve and set it aside, he wouldn't need it when he finally had the real thing's attention. Minimus' panels were popped open, freeing his hard spike finally. He was on his knees infront of Megatron's much larger array, licking and kissing his glowing anterior node before taking the thing into his mouth. Megatron groaned at that, he could only imagine the sight of Minimus' jaw stretching around the node that nearly fills his mouth. The determination of his minibot lover would always bring Megatron's arousal to another level. He threw his head back and rested a heavy servo on Minimus' back, pressing the minibot into his soaked valve and feeling Minimus blindly thrust his little spike into him.

Minimus was getting coated in Megatron's transfluid, which made it much easier to rut into that soft valve and slip his digits in. He was still busy with lapping the fluid off his conjunx's node when he felt Megatron pushing him once again. Whatever Megatron was doing, and Minimus knew he was up to something when he could hear his t-cog click distantly and feel Megatron shift his mass slightly bigger, Minimus was very on board with. Something was pressing on the back of his helm, making him slip away from Megatron's node and into his plush valve lips. Minimus attempted to catch himself, but Megatron just continued to push him deeper until he had the minibot's upper body fully inserted in his valve.

Minimus squirmed as much as he could in the tight valve channel, which only pushed him deeper into his lover. Megatron's greedy calipers were massaging Minimus' body as his internals tried to pull the minibot deeper inside. Megatron was helping from the outside, pushing Minimus in deeper by the pedes as he continued to leak lubricant onto his small body. He was finally feeling some resistance when his ceiling node was brushed against, causing a full frame shiver. Minimus was drowning in that wet heat and he felt like he never wanted to resurface. With no one to see him act so crudely, Minimus thrust wildly into Megatron's walls, grinding his spike into his conjunx valve deeper than he could ever reach on his own. His helm was pressed into Megatron's ceiling node, letting the captain feel all the wild thrashing from his active little toy.

Caught up in his own overload, Minimus did not see the small port of Megatron's gestation chamber opening. His forge was like a stalking predator, waiting for Minimus to get close enough to be caught. A shift, a reshuffle of his position, and he was caught. Minimus' helm had pushed back in the dark and somehow fell further into Megatron's internals. Listening hard, he could only hear his conjunx's cries of approval as his valve spasmed on Minimus' little body, so clearly whatever he had found was not going to hurt his mate by delving deeper. Minimus wiggled his way into that tighter port, into an even hotter and tighter chamber than Megatron's valve.

Deep inside Megatron could feel Minimus squirming his way into his forge, and it had pushed him over the edge of overload. He wanted his conjunx as deep inside of him as he could be, all his for all eternity where no one could take him from him. It was a horribly selfish desire that Megatron could feel guilty over when he wasn't overloading his processor out, but caught up in the heat of the moment, he would have his dream be a reality for a moment. He reached blindly for the toy Minimus had taken from him earlier, and once found he popped it up his slick loose valve. In his bigger form, meant for keeping his lover from being crushed, the toy had felt smaller in comparison. It would do the job Megatron had meant it for though, he could feel the thing make contact with something that had seemed to move against the tip. He had hit Minimus' twitching pedes with the toy, giving the minibot a slight push further through his gestation seal.

Once Megatron had found his target, he fucked himself hard with the spike, aiming to keep pushing his conjunx deeper into his forge as he did so. Minimus' hips were just slipping past the tight opening, giving a delicious squeeze to his spike. He frotted into the port, pushing him deeper into the chamber faster. Just as Minimus overloaded, his hips had popped into the forge with the rest of his body, shooting transfluid directly into Megatron's gestation chamber. His legs followed him into the wet channel easily, allowing Minimus to finally curl up in his lover's forge.

Megatron laid in the afterglow of a frame racking overload with a large servo rested on the small bump of his abdomen where his conjunx was. The fake spike had slipped out of him the second Megatron let it go, being flushed out by the still coming gushes to transfluid. As he was still in the high of a good overload, he received a ping on his private comms.

:I do not know exactly what we have just done, but I would like to make this a frequent activity:

A very Minimus way to ask to indulge in a kink, it made Megatron smile. He sent a message back, more to check in than out of any urgency to let his mate go.

:Are you enjoying it in there?:

:In the way of my interface needs? Immensely. It's rather comfortable actually, to speak outside of arousal:

:Is that so?:

:Yes. It's very warm, and quiet too. If you've been trying to speak to me, then I am sorry I missed it. Everything is drowned out over the sounds of your internals, which-:

:Which?:

:Which is making my interface protocols want to reengage. My apologies:

:Do not apologize for my frame bringing you satisfaction, my dear. I'm glad to hear you get as much out of this as I do:

:If you would allow it, could I stay inside a while longer?:

:Of course minimus:

After sending his message, Megatron was struck with an idea.

Getting one of Minimus' tiny datapads in his valve was like putting the pen of his own datapad inside himself. It was small, so to say, and Megatron could insert it into his large frame easily. Using his fake spike, he pushed the datapad further into his valve then his digits could reach until the thing was knocking into the already worked opening of his forge. He knew his idea had gone as he meant it to when he received another message.

:I need a very good reason to not come out right now to punish you for putting sensitive files in your array:

:My forge is quiet and secluded, no one will be bothering you while you work and I can entertain myself plenty:

Megatron was already rubbing his anterior node at the thought of his little conjunx happy and safe inside his gestation chamber, all his and his alone. The comm back was essentially permission for Megatron to commit to his plans.

:Thank you Captain, I understand. I may need a while then to continue my reports.:

:Feel free to stay as long as you need:

Megatron lazily thrust the toy back up his valve as he messaged Minimus. He was free to frag himself stupid while his conjunx worked away. If Minimus was ever taking more breaks to overload into his partner's forge, than Megatron didn't have to know. Of course he did know though, and the idea alone had Megatron's valve squeezing the toy harder. -🌱

ARGH i just keep rereading this, it's so damn good... Megatron's big, stretchy womb is the perfect office for Minimus, so warm and quiet and the horniness keeps him alert. When it starts making him dizzy, he simply jerks off to take the edge off, and continues working...

hrghh what if he got Megatron pregnant like this... usually his transfluid doesn't reach that far up Megatron's valve and even they're getting up to the usual pussy vore shenanigans, he doesn't produce enough to really knock him up... but after hours and hours of cumming directly all over his forge, there's bound to be a spark...

#valveplug #pussy vore #texty #pregnancy mention #size kink #scheduled

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rippersz · 2 years ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥’𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝

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(A fem!reader x Lucifer Morningstar NSFW one-shot)

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Lucifer.

The sweetest end to a life of misery. The dimmed light at the end of a dark tunnel. The succubus of depraved dreams.

The very reason why you begged to be sent to Hell.

And, coincidentally, the very reason why you wanted to stay.

For, really, what was the use of residing in Heaven when God’s hair didn’t fall in perfect blonde curls? What was the use of dipping into paradise when the Lord’s eyes weren’t so piercing? Or when the Almighty’s lips didn’t curl up at the ends, like a mischievous cat that felt hunger clawing at its lungs? And what was the point of staying in nirvana when the lights hurt your eyes? And when the angels’ symphony was simply too damn loud?

That’s just it.

There is no point. There never was.

In your opinion, although the air smelled of sulfur and death and rotted campfire smoke, Hell was a much better place. It was warmer, for starters. And it was… it could be… eerily silent. You realized that early on into your job when you began cleaning Lucifer’s chambers on a daily basis. Because outside of that private space, the world was filled with the faintest screams of the damned. Constantly. Every day - morning to night, even though time in that realm worked in strange ways and could not often be measured. If you cared more, you were sure you’d find it maddening. But you didn’t care. There was no reason to. Because unlike those subjected to whatever punishment they deserved, you were favored. Sort of. Kind of. Well, maybe not entirely, but enough. You were favored enough.

After all, no one would expect Lucifer Morningstar to have a maid. Someone to polish the floors, wipe down the columns, sweep the stairs, make their bed and tend to the flames whenever they burned. Someone to dust the surfaces and make sure nothing was out of place. Someone to keep the Lightbringer’s world tidy.

And yet? Yet, there you were. Breathing in the strange hot air, sweating slightly in your constricting white uniform, getting down on your hands and knees or stretching tall or nearly bending over backwards to clean anything you could. To make sure that they wouldn’t notice a lack of proper upkeep because you took your job very seriously and to do something wrong or to miss a small speck of dust was to be crucified. No pun intended.

Though looking beyond that- looking beyond your ‘duty’ and your life… there was something else. A different sort of loyalty simmering beneath the surface of your skin. Begging to reveal itself any time you were around your employer. Your Master. You never said it, but you thought it. Often. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ ‘No, Your Majesty.’ ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ always translated to ‘Yes, Master.’ ‘No, Master.’ ‘Thank you, Master. Thank you so so much.’

You were almost certain that no other servant they had wished to refer to them as such, but you didn’t care. It was, after all, difficult not to be affected by them. By their power. By their mere existence. They were the rebellious. They were the dark. They were the end and the beginning. The bringer of light and death. They were the anti-Christ… the anti-life, as they had even claimed to be. And although you’d never admit it, that strange familiar heat that warmed and bubbled within your heart, was the very reason why you defected. Heaven may have taken you first, yes, but upon realizing how utterly… empty… it seemed, you realized it wasn’t what you wanted. It wasn’t fulfilling. It wasn’t satisfying. It wasn’t exciting. And you hadn’t met the Creator, no, but that didn’t matter. When you complained, begged, argued, the angels grew sick. ‘Throw them to Hell, then. The silver city doesn’t need any more traitors.’ And it was then to the traitor’s realm that you went. Falling from the sky, sent by the Heavens; tumbling to the floor, received by Hell. Upon arrival, you wondered briefly if you had made a mistake. The air was too hot, the sounds were too much, the world was too gloomy. But then you looked up. Bruised and aching and breathing heavily on that marble floor, you looked up…

…and felt divinity for the first time ever.

For there- illuminated by flames and standing tall and lit with a glow that God simply didn’t have the power to take away- was the Lightbringer themself. Lucifer Morningstar. Goodness they were taller than you could ever imagine. And far more graceful… far more lethal. With great leathery wings of midnight and contrasting pale skin as smooth as porcelain; with strong tapered fingers and long limbs and such a sculpted side profile… you could do nothing but stare. In awe? Perhaps. Wonder? Most certainly. Love? Well… was that really possible? To love The Devil at first sight?

“What do we have here?” A voice, rich and deep and knowing filled the stagnant air; and thus confirmed that yes, actually, one could fall in love with Lucifer Morningstar a second after meeting them.

—

But memories such as that were only ones you held close to your chest when trying to sleep at night. No one would ever know them. No other demon, no other Lord, no other damned soul. For any memory, any dream, any wish you had where Lucifer’s name was mentioned were ones you wanted all for yourself. Yes, there were people (demons) out there who would understand your… infatuation, for lack of a better word, but that didn’t matter. In fact, that was exactly the reason why you wanted to keep such thoughts to yourself. Jealousy was the death of lovers, and Lucifer was a being you wanted all to yourself.

Well… as if that were possible.

Really, the only time you spent together was in your head. And outside of that, you merely passed them in the hall, reported to them in the morning and evening (hard regarding Hell’s time-zone but you figured it out), and showed up when summoned. Of course all you discussed was work and any upcoming events that the palace needed to prepare for, but other than that - nothing. Nothing at all.

You tried not to take it personally. The Devil was busy and you were just their maid. You kept their home tidy and they compensated you with room and board. That was that. And you tried to accept it, really you did; you tried so hard not to drape yourself over their bed when you cleaned it and you tried not to imagine what those cold fingers would feel like dragged upon your skin… but when you were waxing the floors on your hands and knees and the clicking of their heels could be heard from down the hall- your mind lost control. It ran rampant. It turned fuzzy, dripping into a strange ‘shut-off mode’ that focused solely on Lucifer. Solely on Lucifer and solely on the desire that ran through your body at the very thought of them.

Them… with those strong wings and long fingers and soft jawline… with those sharp high heels and that penetrating gaze. Knowing everything, seeing everything. Spiraling with something sultry, burning right through you, matching the dark wickedness of their lips. Oh those lips… they made an appearance quite frequently within your dreams. Caressing the hill of your shoulder, pressing to the soft insides of your thighs… such gentle perfect lips, literally carved by something divine. Admittedly, they seemed flawless from afar, but you knew the truth. You knew that there was a single scar on the right side of their upper lip; it blended in with the paleness of their skin, but your eyes had memorized its location. Your eyes snapped to it when they spoke. Your eyes traced its shape; wider at its northern tip and thinner toward the bottom, where it ran into the delightfully pink flesh of their lip. Your eyes stroked the tiny flaw and yearned to feel its depth beneath your tongue. Your eyes… and your eyes only. For no one, perhaps save one or two powerful beings, had gotten as close to them as you had.

It was one time, when you had first started. Mopping wasn’t that hard of a task, but at the time you were inexperienced and unaware. Specifically when The Devil themself was standing behind you, observing your attention to detail as you wet and re-wet the same spot over and over again. And it was only when they cleared their throat, gravelly and low, that you had gotten a fright. You nearly jumped 20 feet in the air as you let out a gasp, turned around, stepped back, and of course promptly fell right on your ass. You would always remember the confusion that swirled around in your little mind as Lucifer stood over you, watching with amusement. They were pressed against the world, as tall as a skyscraper, larger than life and stronger than destiny. Stronger than fate. Stronger than any other seraphic being to ever exist. And you were nothing beneath their heel. You were nothing in comparison to them. And for some reason- for some twisted, maddening, intoxicating reason- you found that inexplicably attractive. You found that unbelievably desirable. You found that far more bewitching than anything else in the world. And whether they noticed that or not didn’t particularly matter as, in the next moment, they leaned over. Bending at their slim waist, placing one hand on their hip, reaching out with the other and delicately wrapping cold fingers around your jaw. The touch made you short-circuit, causing your eyes to widen like a scared puppy’s as you stared up at them with wonder and fear and a myriad of other exhilarating emotions. You weren’t sure if they could see the way your heart was surging within your chest, pushing at your rib cage and begging to be swallowed whole and torn apart by those perfectly imperfect white teeth, but- again- it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t have stopped them from the way they tugged you forward, dragging you through the soapy water; or from the way they leaned down, slow and scary, purposefully making you wait for their words. And you played into it all, hanging on by a thread as your throat bobbed with the effort to hold back a sudden whimper.

Then soft lips parted; blue eyes, tinged with a brown and green ring around the pupil, stared; and you noticed the scar in that second. You noticed it and you felt your mind melt out of your ears.

“Careful, maid,” The Devil purred, “wouldn’t want you to break anything now, would we?” And although it was just a moment, being there with them like that felt like a lifetime. You remembered that their breath smelled of figs, and wine, and something akin to metal - blood, you had guessed some time later. And because you didn’t have a response then, Lucifer let you go. They pushed your face away with a strong hand, leaving you to scramble and press back onto your palms. The feeling of their touch lingered as they stepped away, donning their familiar sneer, and clutching their hands before them. “Clean this up,” and they turned to leave, “Otherwise you’ll have more than a few broken bones to nurse.”

And once again, you were left alone.

—

For some time after that, you were sure you had dreamed it. The mind, after all, could conjure powerful images when knee-deep in admiration; and you were well-past that point. But upon seeing the scar again in the light, when they were looking over one of their flames, you realized it had been real. It had all been real. And thoughts of them continued to create mountains in your head, and make your fingers twitch while you fell into dreams, and left a searing heat boiling in the depths of your abdomen when you woke up. It was terrible. It was everything. You wished you could feel their touch again. You wished, all the time, that you didn’t have to imagine their longer fingers pressing onto your tongue and making you drool. Or that you didn’t have to infer what it would be like to kneel before them and put your lips to their leathery boots and kiss and lick away the ash and dust that gathered there. And for as much as you did enjoy fantasizing, thinking such things was beginning to mess with your job; keeping you distracted as you nearly burned yourself against the fire while cleaning the bowl that held it.

Sometimes, only when you were alone in bed, you wondered what it would have been like if you hadn’t asked to be sent to Hell. Perhaps you’d be pampered amongst the clouds; drinking anything you wanted and feasting on anything you wanted and feeling the love of anyone you wanted. Or maybe you’d still feel the emptiness that overcame you when you first arrived at those pearly gates. Maybe you’d still feel unsatisfied and cheated and terribly curious about what lurked on the other side of mortality. What sludged along beneath Earth and the Heavens. Yes, maybe you’d still yearn to be in Lucifer’s grasp; even though, in that timeline, you never met them.

Goodness, what a terrible thought. To have never met the Lightbringer? To have never seen their smirk or their glare or that damned scar on their lip? That sounded horrid. Honestly you preferred not to exist at all rather than be devoid of their presence. So thank goodness it was all just a thought; a dip into the wonders of ‘what could’ve been’ - and thank goodness you fell asleep each night within that hot air, breathing in the scents of Lucifer’s domain, and knowing that somewhere nearby they paced the halls or lounged within their chambers. That knowledge in particular was rather nice; it was comforting to know you were safe; claimed by the second most powerful being in the universe. There was a hierarchy within the palace, yes, but that didn’t matter. You were their maid. No one could touch you.

And if anyone dared to test that theory… well you had become aware of the consequences some time ago. The group of important demons due at the palace during that time weren’t very nice to you. From wandering eyes to thinly veiled threats- they had smelled your ‘fresh blood’ the moment they stepped into Lucifer’s hall. But then promptly forgot where they were. And who they were talking to. And who owned the person they were talking to. Safe to say, only someone with a death wish would comment on your white uniform.

But despite that, you wore it with pride.

The mark of the prettiest Angel- having fallen and survived. Pure white, reminiscent of the highest honor; the softest wings, the most saintly color. You wore it and you wore it well. The skirt was knee-length and comfortable, the puffy sleeves were short and didn’t chafe, and the collar was high, hugging the sides of your throat in a similar fashion to the one beautiful garment that Lucifer wore from time to time. You enjoyed the thought of matching with them… you enjoyed the implications of being theirs. And although you weren’t allowed to wear any jewelry, that never stopped you from admiring the pieces they owned. Resting comfortably in an ornate box that sat atop their dresser were different types of rings and even one or two necklaces and a single set of earrings. They were all made of real gems/silver/gold, but you knew that The Devil didn’t particularly care for riches. They had it all. One less diamond wouldn’t kill them. And that was, perhaps, another reason as to why you couldn’t help but feel weak when they slid into your mind.

Such a powerful being… so nonchalant… and they spoke so slowly… so deeply… and they walked with such height… and had the prettiest lips… and the longest fingers…

“This doesn’t look like cleaning to me, little maid.”

Your heart did a somersault within your chest as you looked up. Your eyes were wide. Their eyes were heavy-lidded. Amused. Looking down at you as they stood with their fingertips pressed together in front of their waist, standing and haloed by dark wings. All you could do then, stuck beneath their attention, was swallow harshly and try to control the sudden shaking that overcame your body.

You’d been caught red-handed. Literally. Standing beside their bed, staring at the silk blood red sheet that ran against your palms, held tightly in your hands. It was halfway off the mattress and spilling a bit onto the floor, and you were caught in the middle of your own mess. A change of sheets rested on an armchair behind you, but that didn’t matter. You were caressing the fabric with your thumbs. You were basking in its softness. And you had lost track of time, too focused on your own memories- your own depraved thoughts- to realize that The Devil themself could walk in at any moment. It was their room, after all. Complete with a large four-poster canopy bed, a distinguished vanity, a set of armchairs and a table, bookshelves that lined the far wall, and two other doors that led to their bathroom and closet. It was, admittedly, your favorite place to be in the entire palace. The fireplace was always burning - the colors of the room were a good mix of onyx, crimson, and gold - and the smell there was far different than the smell in any other part of the underworld. For instead of anguish and sin, the air toyed with the light scents of freshly blown out candles, jasmine, and vanilla. Every time you walked in there to clean, you took a deep warm breath and resisted the urge to curl up on their bed and take a nap.

Though as you stood before them, on the other side of their half-covered mattress, you wished you had previously dared to fall asleep there before. It would have been a fascinating story to harbor after being banished, considering The Devil most likely didn’t care for those who caressed their divine bedding.

“Just what exactly were you doing?” Their voice came again, breaking your mind’s descent into the clouds and instantly yanking it back down to Hell.

A quick nervous glance up told you that Lucifer wasn’t angry. No, they were more amused than anything else. But then again, that seemed to be their constant state of existence around you. As though you were a dumb little puppy who didn’t know how to do much beyond cleaning and when they caught you thinking, they thought it was funny. And perhaps it was funny. You did often lose your voice around The Devil, so you may just as well have acted like a scared little animal in their presence…

…was that what you were doing then? Glancing every which way, unable to make eye contact, feeling the heat of the fire seep into your skin? Shaking slightly and secretly wishing that they’d grab you by the arm, throw you onto the bed, and have their wicked way with you?

Well… the more you thought about it, the more time you wasted. So you swallowed your tongue and cleared your throat.

“I was- um- cleaning, Your Majesty,” you bowed your head and clutched your hands in front of you.

A small hum filled the air. You felt your heartbeat on your tongue.

“Are you certain, little maid?” They spoke softly, deeply, running their fingertips along the edge of the mattress before pulling their hand back and assessing the state of their skin. “Because to me, it seemed as though you were rather… distracted.” And Lucifer smirked upon seeing the cleanliness of their fingertips.

And while they did that, feeling a strange sense of pride and lust curl up within their being, you felt your heart drop.

Distracted….

of course…

…They knew.

They knew.

One could never keep anything from The Devil; so why in the underworld did you think you were any different? Why did you think you could keep something like sin away from the Lightbringer’s eyes? They were always so careful with words - always so choosy - always one step ahead… and they knew.

They knew about the needy little dreams that plagued your nights. They knew about the blush that you woke up with, and the shake in your knees when you got into the shower and found your own hands wandering from your chest to your thighs. They knew about the heat that bubbled between said thighs, and how the ache- the terrible burning enticing ache- pushed you to take care of it in the only way you knew how. With searching fingers and light touches and soft moans muffled by the white fabric of your pillow; with distracting thoughts and lewd whimpers and sinful pleas- begging and begging and begging the Lightbringer, The Devil, to pleasure you until your heart melted against your insides. They knew about all that and they knew about the little whispers you spoke to yourself when the water spilled from behind the curtain and dripped down your face and created the perfect cover up.

Or… what you thought was the perfect cover up.

In reality, it seemed there was no place in Hell that The Devil could not reach. That The Devil could not hear. That included your shower. Your bath. The bed you writhed in at night when you imagined their teeth attacking the flesh of your chest. And your tummy. And your thighs. And your neck and calves and back… And in a similar sense, they heard every single thing you murmured to yourself when the flames in your room were extinguished. The faint cries of ‘Master’ as you let the soap slide down your arms; the muted whines of ‘Yes yes yes right there-’ as the steam pressed to your bathroom mirror; the mewls that escaped from your wanting lips, hugging the tile of your shower, incriminating you with every little noise…

Oh they heard it all.

And because of that- you were completely and utterly fucked.

“My my… such a strong heartbeat. One could even say you were- frightened.” Their voice was closer than it was before, and when you blinked, you found that they were slowly- slowly slowly slowly- crawling onto the bed.

Your body froze as you watched two large hands press into the mattress, swiftly followed by a knee. They were clad in a rich mahogany leather; an outfit that clung to the muscles in their arms and legs, spanning broad across their chest and still leaving room for their wings. Oh those wings… Twitching gently as they stalked toward you. You, being their prey. You, being their victim.

And as soon as that realization clicked into your slow silly little mind, you did the only thing you could think to do when filled with terror: you begged.

“Pl-please, your Majesty- I- I am so so sorry for my behavior. I have been inappropriate and- and- disrespectful and stupidly idiotic. I promise you it will not happen again, please, I am begging you- please understand, I-” you stopped.

You stopped, abruptly silenced by the slim finger that pressed itself to your lips. Their skin was just as chilled as you remembered it. And their eyes, when you looked up into them, were far more entrancing than they had ever been. As if The Devil simply could not help the way their very soul reacted to your submissive behavior. ‘Such a silly little maid,’ they were probably thinking to themself, ‘such a silly little maid with her silly little outfits and needy little sins. The poor thing had no idea that I heard it all….

…And the poor thing has no idea what I will do to her because of it.’

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Hope you enjoyed! I will be working on requests for a bit now and taking a short break from my other fic. I have not watched The Sandman so if some things are wrong, I apologize. I do hope I also did well with Lucifer’s characterization. If I did not, I again apologize. Thank you for reading. - Ripley

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#fanfictionwriter #lucifer morningstar #lucifer Morningstar sandman #the sandman #sandman lucifer #sandman fanfiction #lucifer Morningstar x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x Y/N #Gwendoline Christie Lucifer #fanfic #gay fanfiction #gwendoline christie #oneshot #fanfic oneshot

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mvltisstuff · 1 year ago

Note

Evan Buckley x female reader

Reader is using the gym in the fire station and she suddenly gets a painful sensation in her stomach and she ends up collapsing in the gym and after 10 minutes Buck finds her on the floor and they take her to the hospital. The readers appendix has burst which is life threatening and needs emergency surgery, Buck panics because he knows how scared you are of hospitals and can’t be there to tell you it’s okay. It’s also found out reader hit her head on the bench when she collapsed.

lots of angst, Buck being worried, fluff, pain, crying ❤️‍🩹

delicate - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

the pain had been faint in y/n’s stomach in the morning, so she figured it was probably just something she ate that bothered her. she had a pretty grueling work schedule for that week, but she never thought of it as bad. she absolutely loved her work as a firefighter, and she met the man of her dreams there.

buck loved her from day one, they worked so well together, in and out of the station. it was bound to happen, a relationship between them. everyone knew it from the way they looked at each other to the way they engaged.

buck noticed a bit of discomfort in her face, but she just pushed it off as maybe some cramping or the take out they ordered the night before. being the worrier he is, buck was thrown off a bit, but trusted her judgement. if it was up to him, she would’ve had to stay home and rest, but she can make her own decisions.

“are you still feeling ok?” buck questioned, peeking his head through the door of the locker rooms.

“i’m fine, buck,” she grinned lightly, turning to face buck as she finished putting her things away. her shift didn’t start for a bit, so she was getting ready to work out in the gym for a little. it always pumped more energy through her, giving her more power to push through her day.

“i know, i just don’t want you to feel like shit. you can always take a day off.”

“i don’t want a day off, it’s different when you have a job you actually enjoy.”

“ok, but promise me that you’ll leave if it gets worse, alright?”

“i promise, go,” she points up the stairs where bobby is summoning buck to help him, and she slips on her sneakers and moves over to the gym.

it was just a regular routine, something she does daily. by the time she got onto the treadmill, she felt exhausted. it was rare, normally she feels the adrenaline pumping through her but this time, she just wanted to lay on the ground. the longer she ran, the more her stomach ached.

it started as just light cramps, and then it moved up to a burning pain inside her. it felt like someone was digging at her stomach every time she moved her feet. as much as she wishes she could just run it off, she knew that wasn’t reasonable. she moved off the treadmill, grabbing her bottle of water.

she waited patiently for the pain to decrease, but it only intensified by the minute. she was leaning against the wall, hand on her knee as she breathed heavily, trying to distract herself from the pain.

she really began getting alarmed when her jaw started to tremble, trying to get her palm to stop it. she skipped to the bathrooms, praying that no one was inside. luckily, there was no one to hear her groan in pain. her mouth began to water before she released the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

whenever you’re sick, vomiting usually gives some type of relief. y/n waited for that moment of ease to come, but the pain never came to a stop. she gripped her knees as she leaned over the bowl, exhaustingly panting as her hands began to shake.

the next moments came across in a blur. she started to see the flashes of black dot around her eyesight, and her breathing began to slow down. she sat against the door of one of the stalls, trying to bring herself down from the agony she felt in her whole abdomen. at this point, it felt like someone was inside of her with a knife. she shakily sat back, before her vision vanished along with any noises that she could recall.

“hens here!” chimney exclaimed, mouth full with a granola bar, seeing his friend walk into the station with her bags. she waved quickly to him, before going to put her bag in the locker rooms.

“hey, buck,” hen greets, placing her things down onto the bench where buck sits.

“what’s up, hen?”

“not much, where’s y/n today?” she asks, looking around to see no signs of y/n.

“she was in the gym a few minutes ago per usual,” buck looks up, surprised that y/n isn’t still there. “unless she went to the bathroom to change, she’s probably doing that.”

“well, i guess i’ll see her then.”

she gathered her clothing for work before moving into the bathroom. when she walked in, she noticed that every stall was open, thinking that y/n wasn’t in any of them. the bathroom was still dim, the only lights being from the tiny window. she flicked the lights on, illuminated the room. she walked over to place her clothes on the counter, and that’s when she saw her.

y/n was on the ground, head slumped down and she looked like she could fall any second. hens first thought was a long night, possibly, but she wouldn’t have come in. when she realized that y/n really was not moving, her heart dropped. she whipped around, getting a better look at y/n’s limp body before moving over.

her face had become pale and her skin was clammy. hen felt around for a pulse on her neck, and exhaled deeply when she felt the steady beat on her fingers. “y/n?” she shouted. “y/l/n, can you hear me?”

it was no use, she was out cold on the chilly tiles of the bathroom floor. she sprinted over to whip the door open. “guys!” she waved her hand, telling her team to come assist them. buck’s blood ran cold, hearing hens yell for everyone to help. what was even worse was that hen shot buck a look of pity and fright, for him and for y/n.

he was the first to stand up, but also the most horrified. he came into contact with y/n’s body on the floor, now laying on her side. “oh, my god!” he crouched down, moving the stray pieces of hair out of her face. “y/n, honey, c’mon!” he tried to get her awake, but there was no point when he saw no reaction in her eyes. the gurney was sped into the room by eddie and chimney, then seeing their friend and coworker passed out on the ground.

it happened in the blink of an eye. bobby pulled buck away from his girlfriends seemingly lifeless body, forcing him to watch them roll her away into the back of the ambulance. however, buck yanked himself out of bobby’s grip, jumping into the back of the aid car to sit on the side. she had already been given IV fluids, and had a heart monitor on. eddie pulled out the portable ultrasound and started running it over her stomach.

“it’s looking like her appendix, we found her at a good time, we’ve only got a few until it ruptures,” he slams the ultrasound back away, injecting more drugs into her system to hopefully slow the condition.

buck just sat there, gripping onto her hand that didn’t have any reaction to it. he knew that she could survive this, they see it all the time. it’s horrifying to see someone you love on that gurney, unconscious. he thought about all the times he’s been in this ambulance with y/n while working. every time she’s tended to someone with this problem, never imagining that it could be her one day. buck knows her fear of hospitalization as well. it’s ironic, someone who works around them also has a deep fear of them.

she always thought that is someone goes into a hospital, they don’t come out. it’s not always that way, but she’s seen it happen enough times. even since she was a child, she’s had a fear of being helpless in that hospital bed, her life in the hands of someone else. the worst part about her situation now was that she had no idea what was happening.

the next time her eyes fluttered open, despite the bright white walls in the room, it felt dark. it made her body shiver, looking around to see not a single person around her. the only thing she could hear was the steady beating of her heart in her own ears. her eyes landed on the small bouquets of flowers in her room. her heart rate increased the more she looked around, knowing all too well where she was.

her breathing started to speed up, looking down at her hospital bracelet and the needle in her arm. she wanted to sit up and pull it out, but the ache in her stomach was almost unbearable whenever she moved.

y/n’s mind was still hazy from the sedation, so she couldn’t puzzle together exactly what happened. the last thing she recalls is running into that bathroom and feeling the air around her become suffocating.

she fumbled with the IV tube in a panic, wanting to yank it out and make a run for it. her body wouldn’t let her. buck saw her moving around in her bed through the glass window. he’d stepped out to ask the doctor some questions. now that he finally had answers, his anxiety had died down knowing that she’d be ok soon. he could recognize the look in her eyes, the terrified look in her face as he watched her fidget with the wires.

“hey, hey,” he walks in, trying to make himself noticeable as soon as he can. “y/n, you’re ok, don’t mess with that.”

“i have to go,” she murmured out, being blinded by fear so the man that usually comforts her couldn’t.

“no, listen,” he brushes her hair back softly with his hand, letting it run down to her shoulder. “your appendix was this close to bursting,” he tells her, holding up his finger and thumb. “i promise you’re ok, i’ve got you now.”

he gazes into her watery eyes, getting them to focus on him as she tries to reach up to him. he can tell how badly she wants to sit up and hold him, so he does the work. he leans down, kissing her cheek and allowing her hands to rest on his back.

“i didn’t realize i was that sick, i thought it was nothing.”

“i know, but we found you and you’re gonna be alright. you’ll have to recover for a bit, but you’ll be good as new before you know it.”

“i’m sorry,” she mumbles into his ear, making his brows wrinkle.

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” buck replies, pulling back to lock eyes with her. “i will say, i almost had a heart attack when i saw you on that floor.”

“you found me?”

“hen did, you were passed out in the bathroom and she called us in. i was so scared even before i walked in, but i knew you needed me. but i’ll always find you when you need me.”

y/n stared into his beautiful blue eyes, trying not to lose herself in them. she was relieved that she was able to see them again, and the worry of the hospital had been crushed by buck. she never realized that someone could understand her so well that they can make her feel like the only person in the world. she got so lucky when she walked into that station on her first day and saw him.

“i love you,” she says, simple words but they go deeper than a well.

“i love you, too, y/n,” he grins, helping her get comfortable in the bed. “you need to rest, though. we’re gonna need you back ASAP.”

“i’ll try,” she smirks, letting him plant another kiss on her forehead before sitting down besides her.

“go to sleep, honey, i’ll be here when you wake up.”

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