#amber doesn’t have a last name

[grimmweepers]

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: OCT 17TH

— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zhongli x fem!reader | 𝐜𝐰: established relationship but reader finds out his true identity! morax!form, draconic!form mention, human!reader, sex with a god, hair pulling, creampie, nipple play, rough sex, reader wears a nightgown, he calls you 'small in his hands', reader is implied to serve rex lapis, maybe ooc, 2.8k wc 18+ only, MDNI.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

This was completely different from the first time you shared beds with him.

Back then, Zhongli had been soft and gentle, undressing you with such tender care until nothing remained but bare skin and bones. You remembered his warm amber eyes, his featherlight touches, and how he gave so much of himself to you that it left you dizzy and breathless. 

But this was something else entirely. 

It wasn’t that long ago when, to you, he was just a consultant at the Funeral Parlour—a Liyue nobleman who was well-versed in Teyvat’s history. He had been courting you since the last Lantern Rite (perhaps longer if you had paid attention) and you were more than content with the consultant, admiring him just as he was.

Then, after retiring his gnosis—and you still struggled to fully grasp what that meant—he finally confessed.

Overnight, he went from a funeral consultant to Rex Lapis and no matter how many times he explained that he was technically no longer an Archon, it didn’t change the fact that he was still an immortal who had witnessed Liyue from infancy.

And you slept with him!

The memory sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t deny the thrill of realising how the Lord of Rock had practically begged for you to get on top that night. That same feeling returned now as you prepared to sleep with him again. 

You basically asked for it, though. 

When he revealed his identity to you, you had some questions. The first was if he had a real form, to which he replied: I have many.

Then the second question—or rather, request—was to see one of these forms. He was happy to oblige, but you hadn’t expected him to be so… forward.

I’m not being forward, he defended himself, My skin is part of my form. It just so happens that I have to adjust my attire for you to see it properly. 

But he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Zhongli—” His name now felt strange on your lips as you stared, spellbound by his new appearance. You were so captivated that anything could have rolled off your tongue and you wouldn’t have noticed… or cared.

He truly embodied every depiction of Rex Lapis you’ve ever seen.

“Is something the matter?” He asked as if his arms weren’t adorned in glowing geo patterns, as if his physique wasn’t carefully carved by millennia as a leader. He stood over you while you sat on the edge of your bed and you gulped at the vitality in his features. 

He looked larger—more youthful, even.

“What do I—” You hesitated, wondering if your question was foolish. “What do I call you?” 

He cupped your jaw the way he always did, though now with bare hands darkened by power that you could barely comprehend. “You can choose whichever name you like,” he replied. “It doesn’t change who I am to you.” 

Your mouth went dry. It was frightening how much more irresistible he seemed like this.

“Morax,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

His brows lifted slightly, but he stayed silent.

“Morax,” you repeated, louder this time. You knew calling him ‘Rex Lapis’ would have been more respectful, more appropriate, but after seeing him in this divine form, with barely a towel wrapped around his waist, you knew that respect had already been thrown out the window. You would ask to be forgiven but what difference would it make if the god you pleaded to stood right before you in compromised garment?

“Interesting choice,” he chuckled as he pressed his thumb to your lips, “Now, lie still and let me enjoy what belongs to me.”

Those words sank in like branding on your skin—what belongs to me.

He was slow with you at first, hovering over you as you lay back. The silk of your nightgown clung to every curve of your body which left little to the imagination and Zhongli was so engrossed with his view, that the lust in his eyes made something inside you stir. You had to look away, your arms instinctively moving to shield your flushed expression.

After all, it wasn’t every day that you found yourself at the mercy of a man so many prayed to.

Gently, he pulled your arm away, “Why do you turn from me, my love?” He tilted his head, studying you like prey, but the tenderness in his voice reminded you that the ghost of your sweet Zhongli was still there, lingering beneath this form. 

“Are you regretting your curiosity?”

“I guess… seeing you this way makes me a little… shy,” you said, though you didn’t believe your own answer.

Before you could say more, his mouth was on yours, fierce and reassuring. It took the air right out of your lungs. You barely had time to recover before he started trailing softer kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. 

“Shy?” he repeated against your skin, “After all we’ve done, you’re still shy?” He slid his hand up your sides, tangling his fingers between the fine silk. “You may be skilled at keeping secrets but not from me. Tell me the truth, my sweet.” 

You opened your mouth to respond but you couldn’t stop your back from arching at his touch, which was very much an invitation for him to tear off the delicate fabric from your body. When he did, it left your chest exposed to his hungry gaze, earning him a small gasp and a deep ache pooling between your legs. 

“You’re so small in my hands,” he mused, fingers tightening around your throat for a brief moment. "And yet… you offer yourself so willingly."

You had offered yourself to a god.

You had offered yourself to a god.

“Do you understand what you’re doing?”

A shudder tore through you as he took both breasts into his hands and sunk his teeth between them, leaving you little marks made from canines you had never seen before. When you suddenly felt his hard bulge pressing against your core, you realised the towel around his waist had already been discarded. How could you even respond to him?

“This excites you, doesn’t it?” He murmured into the crook of your neck, grinding against you. He didn’t give you a chance to speak when he pried your legs open with one knee. “Have I ever told you how intoxicating you smell when you’re like this?” 

Harder than before, he bit into your neck and you found your fingers tugging on his hair.

“You can… smell me—?”

“I can sense you,” he corrected, “And I know exactly what you want from me." You could certainly tell he was pleased with himself yet instead of pushing you away, it only drew you in further.

With a single motion, you hooked your finger around the pin holding his ponytail in place, and pulled—freeing his hair so it cascaded down over his toned muscles.

He looked perfect. Divine. It was your way of confirming what he already knew—that you wanted this, wanted him.

Zhongli’s eyes glowed in the dim light and there was no mistaking the godly aura of Morax residing in him. The air seemed heavier under the weight of his presence. You were suffocating.

A deep growl elicited from his chest as he pushed the tip of his cock against your underwear, teasing your entrance. You whimpered at the way he bullied you, desperately pulling him in for another feverish kiss to satisfy at least one need.

This one was hungrier, messier. His groan vibrated through your mouth as his carbon-black hand slid back to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. 

Each twist and flick of his tongue felt like a silent demand: Give in. Yield.

In this state, a picture cleared. Zhongli's hands were everywhere—tangled in your hair, between the valley of your breasts, dipping into the areas you ached the most. This side of him was primal, gluttonous, and possessive. Every touch felt forbidden—blasphemous, even. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say you weren’t enjoying every sinful second of it.

Finally, Zhongli parted from the kiss, his breath heavy as his eyes stayed locked with yours. For once, he allowed himself to make you completely at his will. 

The head of his cock pressed harder against your entrance, the flimsy barrier of your silk underwear doing little to dull the intensity of his lust. He was desperate to feel the warmth inside you. You were already soaked, and he knew it—he could feel it, smell it, and it drove him wild.

“My dear,” he said, sound impatient now, “you know I admire you, right?”

“I do,” you replied too quickly.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to be mistaken.”

“What do you mea—”

Before you could finish, he pulled your underwear to the side and let his cock glide against your folds. Your hips moved with him, coating his shaft with your wetness, and that was enough for him to forget about taking it slow. Groaning, he shoved his blunt tip inside you and it left your thighs trembling. Your body felt like it was on fire, jerking back as his length stretched you out, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly, “Oh my—” you gasped.

Had it been that long since you last did this, or was this form accompanied by godly… benefits?

With his head thrown back in sheer pleasure, he let out a throaty grunt, almost salivating at the way your walls pulsed around him—like your body had been made just for him. Somehow, sex felt even better in this form and it had him feral enough to hold the sides of your hips, fingers digging into your flesh to anchor himself between your legs. “That’s it,” he growled, “Take every inch.” 

He started thrusting—hard—the sound of skin meeting skin echoed off the walls. Your breasts bounced in rhythm, and he was so entranced by the sight he could cum on the spot. Every second, he was ripping moan after moan out of you as he fucked you into the mattress. 

“Morax,” you called out, your voice shaking while he pumped in and out of you relentlessly, “So… good. I want more…” You ran your hands across his chest, feeling the quickening of his breath. His face shifted into a predatory look and you realised that he was losing himself as much as you.

“Then come here,” he groaned through gritted teeth, spoken exactly like someone who had never been defiled.

He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead, he flipped you to your stomach, left your ass in the air and your legs hanging off the bed—your toes barely even touching the floor.

You braced yourself for his unyielding pace, but he surprised you with a tender kiss on your shoulder, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

The unexpected affection made your heart swell so you wiggled against his crotch, inviting him for more. He chuckled, almost pityingly, knowing full well what he was about to do next.

You couldn’t even catch your breath before he pushed back inside you, hissing as he indulged in your warmth. You swore you were well-behaved but somehow this felt like a punishment. He, who was so deceptively gentle a moment ago, found your hair and tugged it into his fist, drawing a sharp yelp from your lips.

Once he started moving at the same unforgivable pace, each thrust forced his name out of your mouth. “M-Morax— Mor–ax,” you were barely coherent and it riled him up the more you said it. It surely wasn’t the first time hearing someone call him that but in this context, he wasn’t going to make it his last—especially if it was you.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice resonant, like the rumbling of the earth itself. 

“Y-Yes…”

Although, you weren’t sure what you expected when you asked to see his form but you knew what you were receiving now was the primal strength of something foreign to you.

His heavy cock stretched you so deliciously, filling you so completely that every nerve in your body screamed with pleasure. You clawed at the sheets as you creamed rings around his base and the wooden bedframe groaned with each erratic thrust.

His movements were undeniably getting sloppier and his breaths came in short, guttural huffs. “Feel- how- deep I am inside- you?” he rasped, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. “You’re taking it so well.” You couldn’t see it but you heard a grin dancing behind his voice as he pushed deeper.

Your feet were lifting off the ground with each thrust, leaving your ass stinging from the relentless pounding. When you felt his free hand snake around to cup your breast, fingers squeezing your sensitive nipple, you practically melted. “Thank you… Ple—,” you whined, the only words you could really manage.

But that was enough for him.

Zhongli’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled, forcing your head back while his other hand dug into the soft flesh of your breast. The pain mixed with pleasure sent your vision into a blur of white. It shouldn’t feel this good but you could feel your orgasm coming despite being nothing but a ragdoll in his powerful hands. 

His body trembled as he chased his release, each thrust growing more urgent as he drove into your G-spot. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body until finally, your climax hit like a tidal wave. Letting go of your hair, you collapsed against the mattress. It was too much so it left you biting into the sheets, a cry ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with each spasm. “I-I’m—ahhh—cumming!”

“Just like that,” he groaned while your body tightened, savouring the way your body responded to every thrust. He was unable to think about anything else aside from the feeling of your muscle clenching and pulsating, “So tight—keep going. You’re perfect like this.”

With one final snap of his hips, you felt him pulse between your walls, his balls tightening as he emptied deep inside you. Thick ropes of hot milky cum filled you, his cock twitching as he buried himself to the hilt. Your name rolled off his lips in a low, drawn-out grunt that was raw and animalistic, a sound that made you delirious enough to go another round just to hear it again. 

Even after he finished, he stayed pressed against you, fucking his cum back into you with lazy, satisfied strokes, filling you over and over until there was nothing left to give. 

“I’m… full,” you whispered shakily, still feeling every inch of him inside you.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Yes and no. If getting tossed around meant you were fine, then sure.

"I'm okay," you breathed.

"Good girl."

When he finally pulled out, you went completely limp, rolling onto your back while a thin layer of sweat left your skin glowing.

You could feel Zhongli doing the same, his body mirroring yours as you both lay there, chests heaving, struggling to catch your breaths. After a moment, you turned to face him, both of you blinking at each other under the light.

“This… wasn’t what I meant when I said show me one of your forms,” you managed to say. 

“Are you complaining?” 

You let out a soft sigh as you stared up at the ceiling. Even after all this, he hadn’t lost his sarcastic sense of humor. “No,” you admitted, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks. “It’s just that… well, I think I might’ve enjoyed you—the real you—a little more than I expected. A little more than what’s appropriate, perhaps.”

You couldn’t help but dance around the memory of all the offerings you’d given Rex Lapis throughout your life. Was this his gift in return?

“Oh? Pray tell, what is it that you enjoyed so much?”

You hesitated but the way he looked at you made it impossible not to answer. 

 “I liked… the way you moved…" you felt slightly embarrassed to continue but he nodded for you to go on, "You were rougher on me, but it made me want more…”

While you spoke, you noticed subtle changes in him. His pupils began narrowing into thin slits, and his golden irises seemed to glow with an ethereal light. The sharpness of his fangs became more pronounced, peeking between his lips. His fingers, which had been tracing circles on your arm, now felt a little sharper, almost claw-like.

“And… your strength,” you gulped as you watched his transformation. “It was… overwhelming. I couldn’t resist it but I didn't want to. I felt safe.”

A low, rumbling growl emanated from his chest, his hand sliding possessively to your waist. It made your stomach flip.

“If that’s the case,” his voice was deeper now, almost a purr as his newly revealed tail coiled around your thigh. He leaned closer, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. 

“Why are you trembling?”

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers: @/astrumaur

[loaksbitch]

blame tumblr for deleting my draft and make me rework this with rush— now girlies, imagine jealous neteyam pull you to his side, claiming you as his yes? this is the long awaited update (pt 3) of the i trusted you series.

warnings - hard angst, vulgar language, jealous neteyam i repeat, JEALOUSY NETEYAM! ugh, cussing, neteyam is tired of hurting and trying, kiri is best girl for boosting up neteyam to make a step kinda? that’s it for now!

likes and reblogs are appreciated for the final part! i love each and every one of you babies mwah!! — 3.2k wc and poor-ish grammar

“i want to trust you.” — neteyam sully (★,꩜)

here’s part (one) – (two) — (four) of this series

neteyam’s state wasn’t good when he went back home.

you’re leaving the clan because of him, you’re leaving your home, your childhood, your everything because of him.

you’re leaving him because of him.

still not accepting the words you’ve said to him, he hadn’t noticed his younger sister waiting for him right when he got back to the village, hunting long forgotten.

kiri on other hand had enough, she’s tired of seeing her brother suffer for what he was trying to make right, especially after that night. the night she saw her perfect brother kneel in front of a female na’vi begging you not to go.

“neteyam,” his name being called, pulls him out from his thoughts and his tired eyes land on his sister who has her arms crossed against her chest. “what part of leave me alone don’t they understand?” neteyam silently says under his breath

“you know i can hear you right?” kiri scoffs

“what part of i want to be alone don’t you all understand?” this time he says it clearly and louder. neteyam doesn’t give her time before walking past her and if only if it wasn't for her next words? he wouldn’t have frozen at his spot.

“if you love her, go for her.”

there she goes again, now he needs to tell her he doesn’t want to hear anything about that future mate of his, that female na’vi he doesn’t even want.

“kiri.” he starts to turn and face her, his amber eyes swollen and puffy it makes her sad. “i’ll say this for the last time, i don’t want anyone to bring äy—“

“i’m not talking about äyea and you know it.”

his heart dropped, amber eyes slightly widening like he was caught. neteyam searches for more explanation from his sister, kiri softly smiles and he definitely knows who she’s talking about

“y/n, neteyam, i’m talking about y/n.” his skin itches at your name being called and he walks fast to his sister before grabbing her by her arms. nobody has to know, not like this and he won't risk to lose you like this

“look, you can’t tell no one, okay?” he’s shaking his sister so hard that her shoulders are hurting. “i can't lose her, if the clan knows they’ll take her away from me.” his body is trembling, neteyam’s mind was too occupied with the worst scenarios that would happen if they find out about you just like this.

kiri closes her eyes and calms herself before trying to do the same for her brother. “nete, calm down” she places her small hands on his cheek. “you’ve to calm down, for her?” she knew you’re his weakness and he would do anything with your name

“i won’t tell anyone.” kiri watches neteyam’s eyes blink, confused and processing her words, “but you must tell them, everyone, tell everyone neteyam.”

he’s slowly sliding his hands down her arms and letting her go, what is she saying?

“i saw everything, the night she knew about it and how you were.” kiri didn’t want to look like she sneaked into someone's business. “i’ve never seen you so weak like this brother, you’re giving up something that makes you happy.”

where is this going? why is she not yelling at him that he failed to be perfect?

“i know you’re soon to be mated but why when you’re not happy? not wanting it, not in love.” neteyam takes every word of hers carefully. “if this is the future you want with her then make a progress.”

“i’m tired of hearing you cry yourself to sleep, starve yourself and worry mom and dad.” he felt like a child. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs and kiri sighs, “you don’t have to apologize for everything.”

neteyam was feeling his heartbeats quickening at his younger sister's words but it’s also painful when he remembers he can’t do that cause you’re gonna be gone, soon… very soon.

“she’s le-leaving,” his words are cut when his voice quivers, kiri gasps at the news. “she said she feels like she doesn’t belong here.” he’s now looking down to avoid kiri’s eyes or he’ll cry

“she’s leaving me, kiri” his sister only pulls him close to hug him and he drops his body on her, head on her shoulder. “i love her and she’s leaving, i’m losing her.” he wants the pain to end, he’s tired of hurting

“oh brother.” kiri pats his head, even though neteyam was the smartest and perfect to hide his emotions, this was too much. he’s literally crumbling down. “it’ll be okay, everything will be okay.”

“it will be okay, everything will be okay.” your mother pats your hair when you lean on her shoulders and cry. all you do is cry, you feel bad.

you’re debating on leaving everything behind and running to your neteyam but then again there’s his future mate being a wall to your love. “it’ll be over soon when we leave.”

if not soulmates why bound to fall in love and hurt?

eywa was not fair, she’s not fair with her doings and you don’t want it. you want him, you want your man, you want neteyam, you miss him so bad.

the ritual is in two days and you’re not ready to watch them or give them your blessing as a part of a clan. once the ceremony is done you know they’ll go home, you don’t even want to think what they’ll do after that.

they’ll have a fruit of love, a baby in the future… what about you? supposed to move on? no, you can’t do that.

“we’ve got to get ready, my sweet child,” your mother says as she eyes the hammock that sheltered you for years. everything is packed, ready and done.

while you’re struggling to make the pain hurt less, neteyam is struggling to make his heart beat less.

it’s now an eclipse and everyone is ready for dinner, “mom! what’s for dinner?” tuk whines when netyiri brings the bowls and trays at the wooden table. “you’ll see baby” she kneels down to finally join her family.

it doesn’t fail to catch her by surprise when her first born is sat across the right side of the table. “neteyam?” her eyes start to whelm when her son smiles at her, oh how she missed having him around the table to eat with them.

“he’s here just like you want him.” jake says and neteyam nods.

neytiri only lets soft laugh out and places a bowl for him. “eat this, it’ll help you get strength for your training.” she motions him to take his food.

kiri silently watches everyone, a smile painting her lips as she sips on her soup.

“tastes good?” neteyam nervously nods, the only thing he’s thinking is a way to bring up his love topic to them. it wasn’t much late before he’s opening his mouth to speak and lo’ak suddenly interrupted

“dad, mom i ne–…”

“tuk stop doing that, you’ll choke.” lo’ak scolds at his sister and neteyam shuts his lips quick. maybe it’s the right thing not to say anything right now.

“tuk, listen to your brother honey” jake says and turns to neteyam, “what were you saying son?”

neteyam shakes his head, “never mind i’ll talk to you guys later.” he doesn’t ignore how kiri lightly groans when he backs out. “i’ll head inside now.” he rubs his sweaty hands on his thighs and gets back to his feet

“you didn’t even touch your food.” now that’s a lie, he actually scooped two times and ate.

“i ate mom, it’s delicious t-thanks.” he hates when the last word breaks. on eywa he’s so nervous.

kiri was quick to follow his steps when he left and luckily her parents didn't question. she was fast to catch up with her brother and yanks his arms to make him face her, “what was that?” she raises her eyebrows

“what was what?”

“don’t play dumb with me right now.” kiri warns and neteyam clears his throat

“i’m scared okay!” he hissed, “i’m so fucking nervous my skin is crawling to leave my bones.” his sister only rolls her eye, “seriously— we’ve talked about this! not being a little scared ass to be telling them.”

“what happened to that?” she crosses her arms.

“kiri,” he sighs and drops his head down, shoulders easing. “you don’t understand how dangerous this is, what if–“

“what if they hurt her?”

neteyam was awfully silent and that answers her question. “you know mom and dad, they don’t do anything about what you care and love…” kiri slowly stops when neteyam shakes his head

“not them,” it’s not them he’s scared of, it’s äyea’s parents he’s scared of, he knows they would do anything to make their little perfect daughter that matches with him, or whatever they say.

kiri presses her lips to a straight line before clicking her tongue.

this is gonna be a bad idea or the best idea she has ever made and decided to tell him aways. neteyam’s eyes widen when his sister pulls him away from their family, what she’s gonna tell him is the only chance to get you back and win your trust and she’s sure neteyam will do it,

do anything for you.

೫ time skip — mating ritual ceremony

your new outfit makes your curves more defined, way more defined than your usual loin clothes that you wear.

your skin shining smoothly, the leaves barely covering your breast, you looked ethereal with your hair not braided and freely displayed all over your shoulders

“honey, are you ready?”

your mother’s words make you gulp and suck a deep breath. “we must be there early to leave early!” she tells while being in the other room.

you finally check yourself and talk back, “yeah, i’m ready.” you whisper morley to yourself? swallowing the lump on your throat.

“yeah, i’m ready.” neteyam closes his eyes and breaths trying to focus on not messing up everything, he’s not even sure if you’ll show up and some part of him wishes you do show up

extra loincloths and decorations on his body makes him uncomfortable with its weight crushing him down.

netyiri proudly looks at her son’s figure while the kids are outside, “mother.” the sudden call of her name, netyiri answers quickly. “what is it? nervous?”

neteyam gulps down his fear and walks to her, “i love you” netyiri feels her eyes tear up and smile at him, “your mom loves you too, baby.” neteyam envelopes her with a hug and netyiri cries to his shoulder telling him how he’s grown up

“now don’t mess my face up with tears! let’s get you ready there.” it’s time to face reality and wait for his soon to be mate come

when he’s out of his hammock, he’s greeted with his family smiling at him and jake’s proud smile. even half of the clan was standing at his hammock.

“neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan” everyone chants and neteyam feels his inside clench in discomfort. he doesn’t want this if it’s not with you, everything makes him sick. “c’mon son, let’s get you to the trees of voice, your mate is waiting.”

what the fuck, that was what neteyam said inside his head. what does his father mean when he’s gonna meet his mate under the trees of voice? it was all about you and him, neteyam would never mate with some random girl he is set up with in a place with memories filled with yours

neteyam turns to his sister and kiri has the same expression because what is this bullshit?

“nete’ she’s waiting for you.” his mother placed her hand on his back. no, no, no— his own feet are betraying him when he realize he’s walking and the clan opens way for him straight long line created till where he’s supposed to see äyea

you on other hand stand in line with the people and pray under your breath for eywa to give you a strength not to cry or make a scene, especially when they will be bound where you thought you and neteyam would have been

it doesn’t take long when starts to cheer as the future Olo'eyktan starts to get closer and closer.

lo’ak was the first one you saw from the sully families while he’s holding tuk close to him so she won’t get lost in the crowed. “Aeyaeyaeyaeyaye!” the clan yells

neteyam’s eyes keep searching for specific someone which is you, eyes desperately looking for you and feeling more scared and anxious when he can’t figure out your face from the crowd he takes a deep breath

you finally take his figure to your sight and god he was so beautiful.

your breath hitches at his appearance, the dangling material on his forehead making him look more attractive than he already is, you realize it’s so hard to let go of him.

you suck a deep breath when his eyes lands at yours and neteyam halts his pace, confusing everyone for a second. your tears are fast to blur your vision and you blink before looking away from him

his heart cracks when you do look away, you don’t want to see him and he understands

once neteyam passed you, the crowd surrounds him and cheers when he stepped close to where äyea is found.

you hate how your mother looks at you sympathetically while her hands grip yours tighter, “it’ll be over soon” she whispers to you but you shrug her off, only watching things unfold in front of you as your heart breaks

“it will be over soon.” neteyam says to himself

it’s sickening how everyone can’t notice this is not supposedly to happen, kiri’s plan better work or he’ll seriously fuck this ritual up and run away with you.

“son.” äyea’s father greets him and neteyam, bringing his hand to his forehead. “ty’mar, i see you.” he then turns to his soon to be mate’s mother and repeat his actions.

the way äyea was smiling makes your throat hurt from desperately wanting to cry.

‘no, don’t tell her you see her neteyam. please. please.’

äyea softly giggles when neteyam stands in front of her and blush, “neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan” the way she tries to voice out his name makes neteyam feel sick.

“i see you.” she says but neteyam doesn’t bother to say it back making her smile slightly fall.

netyiri also notices how neteyam is acting, what would possibly be bothering him? definitely not everything.

after everyone was introduced to each other, the ceremony began. drinks were served, everyone clapping and dancing to the songs the na’vi’s are singing.

you’re a little far away from the crowd to breath clear air and dry your tears that constantly burn your eyes. your eyes are on neteyam who isn’t enjoy one bit of the ceremony while his soon to be mate squirms and waves her hands up

both of them are sitting on a throne-like wooden chair, both of their parents beside them just say like them.

this is so depressing how awkward and uncomfortable it looks and actually is. you think, brining the drink to your mouth

you didn’t notice the na’vi male sneaking behind you that actually has been staring at you since you joined the crowd in line. “enjoying the party from far doesn’t seem too boring after all.”

you’re now jumping in fear when a breath hits the back of your ear.

“mother eyaw! who the fu–” you scream and stumble in panic, but before you’re falling you feel strong arms hold you on your ground. “shit, I should've announced i came, i’m sorry.”

you’re about to tell him it’s okay and leave when he’s offering his hand for a shake.

“i’m no’xus, by the way.” great, now you’re stuck talking with someone.

“y/n.” you say and turn over to place your drink on the talk flat table looking object, it’s obvious you’re ignoring him and uninterested but he keeps talking

“why’re you not dancing?” the tall na’vi asks and you face him before speaking, “because i don’t want to?” you just want this over and privacy, how hard can it get to understand!?

“mhm,” the male hums, “wanna dance with me?” at his offer, you scoff mentally and realize you’re not getting him away from you soon– before you reject him, a strong glare radiating from far makes your body tingle

it was neteyam, sending glares to the male who was next to you while sitting far away.

you didn’t bother it at first but the way neteyam’s face twists makes your brow raise. why is he bothered? jealous? if no’xus had not cleared his throat, you would’ve forgotten about what he just said.

“look notoxo, i really don’t feel like…” you watch him awkwardly chuckle and correct you.

“it’s no’xus not notoxo.”

“you know what? fuck it, let’s dance.” you’re pulling him to the crowd, maybe it’s the drink or maybe it’s him, it’s neteyam making you do this.

your mother was long gone to where you don’t know, no’xus was just a bonus to get your frustration out and you’re now dancing with him. too occupied to bother, you haven’t noticed how neteyam’s nose are flaring in anger

neteyam watches how you’re dancing and it’s very obvious it’s targeted to get him out of his mind

he is not even listening to äeya and brought himself up from his throne-like seat. rage and anger is in him, this needs to fucking stop or he’ll rip the male’s hand that’s holding you by your waist and moving you sides to side

all of his fear gone when the na’vi’s eyes are on him when he’s stepping down from his seat and walking straight to you

neteyam ignores his father’s call, sight on you and you only. you didn’t notice how he’s dangerously close until no’xus stopped his moving. “what is it?” you’re annoyed when your distracted self is brought back to reality

“put your hands off of her.” it was an order and no’xus looked at him manically. “i’m not fucking repeating myself.” all the na’vi’s are confused, even his parents and äeya’s family.

your body is jerked away from the stranger you just met and you hiss when neteyam tugs you close to him. what is he thinking? in front of everyone? his last words makes the whole omatikaya village gasp and whisper.

“fucking let go of what’s mine and find your own mate.” neteyam scowl’s dangerously.

how’re we feeling, sweets? are we feeling anxious? excited? invested? spill in the comments cause i love reading your thoughts sjsjsj

also do you guys want a toe curling smut at the end or no? since neteyam is aged up!20 years old in this series, lmk in the comments if you want smut — tag list in the comments <3

[aurumalatus]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.6k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), slight angst, they are pining as fuck

summary.

on the edge of war, you and kinich face your unresolved tension and forge new promises for the path ahead.

author's note. the new aq quest had me fucking screaming. i feel my kinich love renewed. he will never leave my blood (i hate him but i love him), unedited for now. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

As the Night Warden Wars loom, you find Kinich in the armory in the late hours of the night.

He’s been avoiding you, you know; when you happen to meet in the castle halls, he bows his head as you walk past, unwilling to meet your gaze. The other guards get assigned to you more often now in his stead, pity in their wandering eyes—they’re fully aware of the tension between you and your personal guard. You try your best to ignore it, even when the maids pull you into hugs without explanation and your mother grows more overbearing, always asking if you’re feeling alright.

And, truth be told, you’re not.

Kinich’s insistence to participate in the war worries you to no end. He’s been more reckless lately, taking duties overnight, eyebags growing heavy with exhaustion. He’s trying to distract himself, but from what, you don’t know.

 It’s not that you don’t trust his strength, or even that you want him home to protect you. It’s because you want him to come home to you—period. 

He looks you over, gaze pausing over the bandages wrapping your arm. It seems to pain him, even now—his jaw tightens at the sight. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Neither should you.”

The air feels thick in your lungs. It’s a far cry from your typical interaction, when you’re giggling and he’s rolling his eyes, lighthearted. Now, a frost crawls through your chest when he turns away.

He sets about sharpening his sword with careful strokes.

“Kinich,” you approach, gentle. The muscle of his back grows taut at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please, please reconsider. Or else, I’m coming with you.”

You’re not sure at what point he started to feel so out of reach. Since the last attack, Abyssal forces have grown ever closer. Still, even when he’s only a few feet in front of you, it feels like there’s several walls between you.

He scoffs. “This isn’t just about what you want, Princess, as much as you might think so.”

It comes out bitter, venomous, and so unlike him—the Kinich you know is far gentler, far kinder. As annoying as you can be sometimes, he’s never expressed any irritation whatsoever. Still, he seems genuinely angry with you at the moment.

“What happened to ‘no one fights alone’? That’s what you always say, isn’t it?!”

It’s the motto emblazoned across the Natlan flags, the ones that line the town squares and peek from the top of the castle, proud. You’ve heard Kinich say it many times, as Guard Captain. He sighs.

“That doesn’t include you.”

A fire sparks in your chest, angry; anything that involves your nation certainly involves you. The thought has you advancing toward him, eyes blazing.

“I don’t think that’s up to you, Kinich.” You return your own poison, flinging words off your tongue like blades. “This isn’t just about what you want, as much as you might think so.”

Kinich puts down his greatsword and turns to you, barely concealed rage evident in the way his hands tremble.

“You’re not coming, Princess.” The stress is palpable in his expression, the knit of his brows and the twitch of his lip. “I’ll do whatever I have to. But you’re not taking a damn step toward that battlefield.”

The sheen in his amber eyes reflects something unfamiliar—something ugly and writhing. 

Fear.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kinich look that way before.

“What are you so afraid of?” you ask, desperate. “What are you running from?”

“What am I so afraid of?” His disposition turns fierce—his canines flash in the light, and you flinch. The action has him deflating immediately, unfamiliar with your panic.

Sighing, he leans back against the wall, sliding down until he comes to a stop on the ground. His head falls into his hands.

It’s quiet. Outside, people are whispering, preparing for the impending battle. In the next few days, people are going to die—your people. The thought is difficult to contend with. The tension weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch your knight.

He’s still hunched over, looking overwhelmingly…small. Child-like. You wonder if you’ve ever seen him look this vulnerable before. It feels like you’re seeing the Kinich from a completely different time, one where he wasn’t the Guard Captain, one where he was all alone.

“Feeling you go limp in my arms?” he finally whispers, barely audible. “Feeling your heart slow to a stop?”

You freeze. His voice is thin, like glass—it feels like he’ll break any second. You take another step toward him, careful.

“Kinich.”

“I can’t—”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then gathers himself to face you again.

“I won’t lose you like that. Not now. Not ever.”

The prior attack seemed to have affected him more than you thought. You’d noticed it, maybe briefly, in his daily routines. More often, he seemed hesitant to leave your side. He was stricter with the guard patrols, and with your safety in general. Sometimes, you found him looking at the Capital square with a hardened gaze, perhaps remembering that day.

Then, one day, he began to avoid you completely.

His words bare the truth for you to hear: Kinich is afraid that you will die.

And it is eating him alive.

He pushes himself to his feet, taking another step to meet you in the middle.

“I exist to protect you, Princess,” he says, almost begging, a hand pressed to his chest. “That is why I am here. If I must die doing it, then that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

A horror creeps through your veins at his detached attitude.

“That’s what you think this is?” you ask, in disbelief. “That you’re just some sort of object for me to use? That it doesn’t matter what happens to you?”

For as long as you’ve known him, Kinich has been selfless, always placing your needs before his own. Yet, you hadn’t realized that he was never considering his own needs at all.

He looks away. “That is my duty—”

“It’s not!” 

You cup at his face, pulling him to face you. A thin, crystalline fissure cracks through your heart at his expression—he looks hopelessly, overwhelmingly lost. When a tear slips out of the corner of his eye, you nearly sob.

“You matter to me, Kinich,” you whisper, thumbing it away. “And your life is not a risk I’m willing to take.”

His mouth opens, then closes, struggling for uncertain words. You wonder if he’s ever been told this in his life—how much he’s wanted, how much he’s needed. Despite how much you complain, you know that you’ve needed him since you met him, and that won’t change anytime soon. The thought of his injury—or even worse, his death—leaves you reeling.

He clears the lump in his throat, finding himself.

“I still have to go,” he manages, quiet. His fingers curl around your wrist, rooting you there—rooting you to him.

You press your forehead to his, his bangs and headband warm against your skin. A life still pulses there, in his ribcage, and that’s all you need to know.

“I know. But don’t be reckless.”

It’s a plea. That despite the danger and the terror, he’ll think of you on the battlefield, and the promises you’ve made. That he’ll think about returning home, always.

You look up at him through your lashes, and he looks back.

“Come back to me, Kinich,” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “That’s an order.”

The sight seems to sober him—Kinich swallows before nodding firmly.

“As you wish, Princess.”

/

The next day, you meet Kinich in the castle chapel, along with the rest of the elite guards. Your mother and father sit behind you, quiet and regal on their thrones. The mood feels overwhelmingly somber.

You’ve never had to perform this rite, this blessing, for as long as you’ve lived. But then again, you’ve never experienced war to this extent. 

Kinich advances down the center of the aisle, flanked by his fellow knights—the skylight casts a gentle shine over him. You vaguely think he looks like a prince.

He’s in his ceremonial armor, glowing paint lining his cheeks and arms. A hunter green cape flutters behind him as he approaches, greatsword flashing proud over his back. You nod in acknowledgement as he falls to one knee before you.

“Malipo Kinich,” you say, voice echoing throughout the chapel. Kinich’s gaze is meaningful as he looks up at you—it reminds you of when he was first knighted so many years ago. “Go forth and bring pride and protection to our nation.”

You outstretch a hand, and he takes it—his thumb runs comfortingly across your palm, a promise.

This won’t be the last time.

He presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, eyes fluttering shut.

“May the Abyss take my soul if I ever abandon you,” he murmurs, hushed. His breath is warm, pooling over your skin and running hot up your arm. It’s a message for you and you alone. “May my skin tear from bone if you ever suffer.”

When he rises to his feet, turning to leave, you grasp at his shoulder. The action has him flinching, glancing at you over his shoulder. Everyone in the chapel holds their breath, watchful.

You pull the ribbon from your hair, golden silk wrapping smoothly around your hand. His eyes widen. 

“Come back to me, Kinich.”

Gently, you tie it around the grip of his greatsword, just under the ridge of the one you’d given to him before. He hisses in a breath when you brush over his cheek as you withdraw your hand, before thumbing over your new gift, thoughtful.

When he looks at you again, a certain fondness sits in his stare.

“As you wish, your Highness.”

[skbeaumont]

Five for Five | Joel x Reader Oneshot

“I ain’t stupid.” His tone is heavy now, words grating out of his throat like rusty razor blades. “Last I checked, we had one hundred and two. There’s ninety-seven here. That’s five missing.”

Summary: It was probably a stupid idea to trade five ration cards for a tiny bottle of perfume, and it's not surprising that Joel is angry, but you think it might just be worth it. Tags/warnings: fem reader, smut, dubcon, spanking, punishment, dom!Joel, sub!reader, first time, oral (m receiving), fingering, pet names, unprotected p in v, aftercare. Word Count: 4k

A/N: Forgive me father for I have sinned. This is pure filth. Please mind the tags/warnings.

“Where are the rest?”

Joel’s voice cuts through you as soon as you step inside the apartment. It’s late, already dark out, and the dangerous edge to his words makes you jump as you step inside, shoulders aching, feet numb from the long walk back home through the QZ.

“Jesus fuck, Joel. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer, just holds up his hand and shakes the stack of ration cards that are clutched in his fist. The only light is coming from the wonky reading lamp in the corner and it casts an amber glow over the apartment and Joel’s stern face.

“I said,” his voice is steady, clear, but you can already hear the frustration that’s buried underneath it, the anger that’s so quick to rise in him threatening to bubble over, “where are the rest?”

“They should all be there,” you reply, letting your eyes fall down to your boots, toeing them off so that you don’t have to look at his face.

“Well, they ain’t.” He takes a step toward you, his own boots heavy on the worn linoleum floor. “And I wanna know where they are.”

“Did you check under the floor?”

Of course he’s checked under the floor, and of course they aren’t there, because last night you took a handful – five, max – and traded them for a tiny bottle of perfume that’s now stuffed under your mattress. Joel rarely checks the ration cards – he lets you deal with that side of the dodgy business you’ve been running together for the last year and a half – so you’d thought you could get away with it. That he wouldn’t notice. But this is Joel, and he’s noticed.

“I ain’t stupid.” His tone is heavy now, words grating out of his throat like rusty razor blades. “Last I checked, we had one hundred and two. There’s ninety-seven here. That’s five missing.”

With this last he slams the pile down on the kitchen side next to you, stepping right up into your space so that you feel his breath – hot and tinged with the scent of cheap bourbon – on the side of your face. You’ve seen him angry so many times, but it’s never been directed at you before, and you’re starting to understand why most people avoid his gaze in corridors, why men cross the street when they see him coming. 

“Did you miscount?” You ask, fighting to keep your voice level, light.

“Did I miscount?” He repeats, slow, each word enunciated like it’s a full sentence on its own, and you realise it was probably the worst thing you could have said.

His fingers are hot on your chin when he grabs it, tilting your reluctant face up, dragging your eyeline to meet his. His face is a sight to behold: eyebrows furrowed, deep groves carved out in the lines that surround them, his jaw tense, a muscle twitching as he grinds his teeth. There’s danger in his eyes; a fire behind them that burns as he stares down at you.

“No, I didn’t miscount.” He spits the last word out, eyes tracing the blush that’s crawling up your throat, the way your eyes dart away from his, the flicker of your pulse – fast, rising – in your throat. The trace of the misdirection, the lie, so obvious.

He can read you like a book, always could. But you’re stubborn. You’re not giving anything away if you don’t have to. Those cards are yours as much as they’re his, and this one thing you’ve allowed yourself in eighteen months is worth the way his fingertips are digging into the sides of your face.

“What did you trade ‘em for?” He asks.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs at this, lets your face go and takes a single step back, swings his arm to his side and lets it carry him into a half turn. You slump back against the door, peeling paint sticking uncomfortably to your back. But it’s a short-lived reprieve.

“Fuck me?” He repeats, turning back to you. “After all I’ve done for you, all the shit I’ve taken for you-”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Your voice is shrill compared to his gruff curses, but you continue, adrenaline spiking, “And you’ve been the cause of at least half of that shit, Joel. Don’t make out like you’re some knight in shining armour when we both know the truth!”

The truth: that he’s brutal, feared by almost everyone in the QZ;  that people only trade with the two of you because of your hard work and negotiation skills. Joel’s good for enforcing things, for smuggling things in and out, and for sending a message when anything goes wrong, but he’s also a broken man whose anger has got him into more than a few scrapes that you’ve had to get him out of with nothing more than your sharp tongue and quick thinking.

He lets you rally this outburst at him, doesn’t blink in the face of it, until you’ve finished. Then he’s striding back to you, slamming the hand holding the cards hard against the door behind you. It makes you flinch away but his other hand’s back on your jaw, grip tighter this time, forcing you to look up at him.

“Where are the rest?” He repeats, brandishing the ration cards so that they’re inches from your face.

“They’re mine as much as they’re yours.” You say, quietly defiant despite the way your voice shakes.

“You trade them?”

“What does it matter?”

“Nuh-uh,” He twists his hand, turns your face away so that you’re forced to look to the side instead of into his face and he can say the next words into your ear. “This ain’t how this works. I ask the questions, you answer ‘em. Did. You. Trade. Them?”

His face is so close to yours now that you can feel spit landing on your cheek as he speaks, his breath hot in your ear. It shouldn’t turn you on, but it does. You can feel yourself getting wet, slick pooling unbidden between your thighs. It’s hard to ignore a man like Joel, but it’s even harder to get close to him. You don’t think he’s ever been so near to you before, not even when you’ve tended each other’s wounds after a run went south.

You’ve always wanted him to; held a secret flame that’s grown brighter and hotter over the last few months. There’s something undeniably attractive about Joel. The way he moves, the quiet confidence he exudes and the brutal, coiled power of him. You’ve watched him set his fist into another man’s jaw and wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his temper, his passion.

Now, with his face so close to yours, his thick fingers digging into your jaw, you feel yourself sinking into it, relaxing despite the tension of the situation. You want this, you want his anger and razor-sharp focus. It’s overwhelming in the best way, and you feel tears burning at your lower lashline.

“Yes. I traded them.”

A tear slides down you face and Joel’s eyes trace its path as it glides over your check, pooling in the corner of your mouth, salty and unrepentant.

“What for?”

“Perfume.”

He laughs again, but this laugh is full of derision, not mirth. It’s a punch of a laugh, straight from his chest, catching in his throat and distorting into a growl that sends a shiver up your spine and a bolt of lightning through your cunt.

“Perfume.” He repeats, turning your face in his hand so that you’re looking at him again.

His pupils are blown wide, his face a mask of fury and something else that has you pressing your thighs together, seeking friction. He notices you doing it, lets his eyes follow the movement of your hips, the desperate, needy breaths you’re sucking in. He grins, teeth bared.

“And what, exactly, do you need perfume for?” He asks, not giving you time to answer before he’s bending down and pressing his nose into the side of your neck, inhaling deeply, stubble scratching your throat. “Smell sweet enough to me already.”

“Joel, please,” you say, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, because he’s licking a thick stripe up the side of your throat and you think if he stops you might scream.

“Buy it for those boys I see sniffing around you sometimes? Huh?” He asks, drawing back from you and shaking your face in his hand roughly. “Knew you were nothing but a fucking slut.”

“I just- I wanted something nice.” You try to explain, the words catching in your throat as he slides one thick thigh between yours.

“Something nice? What makes you think you deserve something nice, hmm? Ain’t nothing nice in this place, you should know that as well as I do.”

And you do, God knows you do. The QZ is dark and twisted and fucking soul-crushing, but you’d wanted the perfume, wanted it with a deep yearning that matches the way you want Joel to keep going now, to push you and punish you and take what he wants.

“I think you need to learn a lesson, baby.”

You’re nodding into his hand, tears rolling down your face, splashing onto his thick fingers. He lets go of your jaw, takes you by the wrist and pulls you into the room, toward the sofa, over his knee when he sits. Your stomach is pressed into his thighs, face buried in the dirty sofa cushion and he’s got one hand pressing into your spine, the other searching out the button of your jeans. He undoes it, wastes no time in dragging the worn denim down your shaking thighs.

“You’re gonna lie there and take it, you hear me?” He says, splaying a hand over your bare ass cheek, moving the line of your knickers out of the way so that he can squeeze the meat of you, fingers dipping between your thighs, finding the slick liquid that’s leaking from you.

“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked already. Fuckin’ filthy little thing, aren’t you?” His accent is somehow thickening, vowels lengthening, the twang of his consonants increasing.

“I asked you a question.” He says when you don’t immediately reply, and you nod your head, wipe your wet eyes against the sofa.

“Count for me.” He says, and before you can take a breath to prepare, his hand is coming down sharply on you.

The sting is sharp; delicious.

“Count.” He hisses, and you whisper a faint one, breaking off into a moan when he lets his fingers graze the side of your puffy lips.

You wish you could see his expression, see if this is affecting him as much as its affecting you, if he’s watching with something like ecstasy on his handsome, haunting features.

The second smack is harder than the first, sharper and sweeter for it. It makes you jerk against him but he’s holding you down firmly with one solid hand in the middle of your back, pressing you into his thighs, into his lap. The denim of his jeans is rough against your bare stomach, scratching you skin where your shirt’s risen up. The third slap makes you yelp, harder again, but he soothes it immediately with his palm, rubs the flesh of your ass.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Enjoying being bent over my lap and spanked like the dirty whore y’are, huh?”

You can’t believe the filth that’s dripping from his lips. Sure, he curses plenty, and you’ve heard him cuss out entire rooms full of angry men, but this is something else entirely. This is animalistic and derogatory and indecent. And God help you, its sending rushes of hot liquid practically gushing down your thighs.

“Be so easy to slide myself inside you, you’re so goddamn wet.” He says as he sends another harsh slap onto your ass. “Open you up and press myself inside this soaking cunt, hmm? Bet you’d let me, too, let me do fucking anything to you.”

“Yes, Joel, please, anything.”

His third laugh of the afternoon is throaty and coarse, full of self-indulgence. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, makes you clench your thighs together and grind your teeth to stop you from crying out again.

“You gonna come like this, baby?” He asks, sliding his hand over the meat of your ass, down between your thighs to press at your entrance, slipping beneath your ruined underwear. “Come on my lap like the dirty fucking slut I know you are?”

The sweet sting as he pushes two thick fingers inside you almost pushes you over the edge there and then, but you bite into your lip – probably drawing blood, but you’re too distracted to notice. He curls his fingers, drags the pads of them over the soft flesh inside you, seeking out that spot that makes you almost black out, pleasure ratcheting up so suddenly that you gasp, coming hard in his lap, muscles shaking and contracting, cunt squeezing his fingers tight.

“There she is,” He hisses, curling them again, chasing you as you shift against him, overstimulated.

How is he so good at this? You’ve never seen him with anyone – he’s always given the impression that he has no interest in sex, in relationships, friendships, even. But the expert way that he’s playing your body like an instrument, chasing your moans and gasps like they’re the air he needs to stay alive, tells a completely different story. And when you jerk in his grip and he presses you harder against him, shifting on the sofa, there’s suddenly a very clear indication of just how much of an affect this is having on him, too.

“Shit,” His voice is ragged now: This outburst isn’t controlled in the way that the rest of the curses he’s been spewing into your ears have been. It’s unexpected and bitten back behind a grunt as your hip comes into contact with his cock – a solid, hot weight that fills the front of his jeans, pressing the button of his flies into you, his pocket a line of stitches on your stomach.

The next smack is all the harder for the tiny huff of a giggle you let out, which turns quickly into a hiss of pain when his palm comes down hard against you.

“Concentrate,” He warns when you don’t immediately count the spank aloud. “’m teaching you a fuckin’ lesson, here, remember?”

“Four.” You say, pressing your face harder into the cushion, rolling your hips just slightly so that his cock twitches against your stomach.

“Five for five.” He says, soothing your heated flesh with the palm of his hand before bringing it down one final time. “Five. Think you’ve learnt your lesson?”

You twist round in his lap, eyes dancing when you see the flush that’s tinted his cheeks, the way his gaze is lingering on the swell of your ass cheek in his hand, perspiration beading on his heavy brow.

“I don’t know, Joel, do you?” You say, voice teasing, and he snaps his eyes up to your face as he hisses through clenched teeth.

“Fuckin’ mouth on you, you insolent little slut,” he curses, fisting the collar of your shirt and pulling you upright, opening his legs so that you slide between them onto the cold lino floor.

“Think we can find a better use for it, hmm?” He leans back against the couch, pops the first button on his jeans. Your eyes follow the movement hungrily, unable to look away as he slide the zip down painfully slowly, tooth by tooth, the clicks loud in the silent apartment.

He doesn’t take the jeans off, just pushes them far enough down his thighs that he can fist his cock where it sits, heavy and thick, in his underwear. There’s a dark stain at the tip that makes your mouth water, and when he drags his briefs down, too, you lick your lips greedily.

He’s painfully hard – head flushed a deep red, veins standing out boldly against his thick shaft. There’s a thatch of dark hair at the base, and his balls are heavy and full when he tucks the waistband of his briefs underneath them.

He strokes himself lazily a few times and you let yourself look up to his face. His eyes are dark, pupils eating into the deep brown irises, brows furrowed slightly. The amber light of the lamp is casting his face partly in shadow and it only accentuates the strong, curved line of his nose, the deep creases that lines his eyes and forehead. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists, his gaze so sharp and focused it makes you dizzy.

“C’mon then,” he says, running a hot hand up your jaw to grip the back of your neck, pulling you in towards him. “I got no doubt you know exactly what you’re doing here.”

The scent of him is musky and something distinctly masculine, and you bury your nose in the thick hair at the base of him, place a heated kiss to the side of one thigh. This alone make him moan, a deep, throaty sound that lights you up from the inside.

You press your lips to the tip of him, flick your tongue out to kitten lick at the slit.

“Fuck,” he curses.

He’s sensitive. When you wrap a hand around the base of his cock and place your lips around him he hisses, fingers tightening their grip in your hair, free hand fisting the loose cover of the worn couch. You take him further in, suck your cheeks in to caress him, work your tongue over the delicate ridge at the head of his cock. He tastes like salt and sweat and something distinctly Joel, masculine and heady. When he hits the back of your throat you try not to gag, try to swallow him down, throat contracting around him so that he groans and curses.

“Jesus Christ, baby. Your mouth is fuckin’ filthy.”

You grin around his cock, work your hand over the part of him that won’t fit, then pull back and lick one long strip up his shaft, letting your tongue follow one of the thick veins. He presses himself back into your mouth, tightens his grip on the back of your neck and raises his hips off the sofa.

“You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth, baby?” He asks, and you nod, feel hot tears prickling in your eyes when he starts moving, dragging his hips back and then forward, forcing his cock into your mouth, down your throat so that you feel like you’re choking, like all that exists is Joel and his hard cock, his breathy moans and filthy mouth.

“Got such a clever fuckin’ mouth, baby. Just needed to find a way to put it to good use- shit, yeah, that’s it.” He pushes you down once more, groans as he bottoms out on your throat, then releases the back of your neck so that you can pull back.

You’re a mess, tears rolling down your face, saliva pooling in your mouth and joining your lips with Joel’s cock in long strings. Joel’s looking down at you with fire in his eyes, his dark gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes to the open buttons of your shirt and the swell of your ass.

“Get up,” He says, wrapping his hand around your upper arm and pulling you to your feet.

Before you’ve time to get your balance he’s bending you over, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the sofa. He lines himself up behind you, drags the blunt head of his cock through your soaking folds and presses himself inside your cunt.

The stretch is intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, press yourself back against him as he inches inside. He pauses for a split second when he’s sheathed himself fully inside, then pulls out and begins a punishing pace, fucking you into the sofa, his hands gripping your hips so hard you’re sure he’ll leave marks in the shape of his fingertips.

“Pussy’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight, darlin’” He says, and something in your chest swells at the sound of ‘darlin’’ rolling off his tongue like that, full of something that’s dangerously close to fondness.

He’s a cacophony of contradictions, greedy hands gripping your hips possessively, then smoothing up your back under your shirt before sliding back down to slap the soft flesh of your ass. His thrusts are hard and intense, cock hitting that spot inside you that makes electricity jolt in your stomach with each movement, but then he bends over you, slows his hips so that he can kiss the skin of your throat. His voice – deep, husky, reverberating in his chest – keeps up a filthy chorus that has you whimpering into the couch, but he’s praising you, offering you gentle encouragement, his words warm and dirty and entirely overwhelming.

Being so good for me, baby, pussy’s so fuckin’ wet and tight around me. Can feel you getting close, you gonna come like this, huh? With my cock buried deep inside this pretty little cunt?

Without waiting for an answer he wraps an arm around you and finds your clit with two of his thick fingers. He starts rubbing confident circles over it, bringing you closer and closer to your inevitable climax. You grip his arm with your fist; fingernails digging into hard muscle.

Then suddenly you’re coming apart, white noise blocking out the sound of his hips slapping into yours and his voice and the low level hubbub of the other apartments, until there’s nothing left but your pleasure and his cock and his clever fingers, his nose pressed into your throat, teeth nipping the tendons there.

The world fades back into existence as you come down, muscles jolting. You feel yourself clenching around him with the aftershocks. Joel gasps into your neck, squeezes your tits over your shirt.

“Fuck, just like that, gonna come in this sweet cunt. Shit, that’s it.” His thrusts falter, hips slamming into yours.

You feel him twitch inside you as he comes, ropes of hot cum painting the inside of you, his stuttering breath at your ear.

You stay as you are for a moment, both gasping for breath, hearts hammering in your chests. His embrace is suddenly tender, muscles shifting as he relaxes against you. You don’t say anything, but he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, and that simple gesture opens a floodgate in your chest.

He pulls out of you but keeps his arm around you, guides you both down to lie on the couch, your back pressed to his front. The light in the apartment feels different than it did earlier, the orange hue warmer, kinder than it was.

Joel peppers kisses along the back of your neck and over each shoulder, his strong arm keeping you firmly against him. He wraps a thick thigh over both of yours and tightens it, anchoring you in place. You sigh in contentment, head quieter than it’s been for months, years, possibly.

“I didn’t hurt you?” He says into your hair, voice low.

“No, Joel.”

“You sure? I’m sorry if I was too rough. I don’t- I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I liked it, Joel.”

He chuckles darkly, hooks his chin over your shoulder and teases the skin under your ear with his teeth.

“Fuckin’ filthy, aren’t you? Always knew you were.” He presses his nose to your neck, inhales deeply. “Perfume’s nice, by the way.”

[moonstruckme]

Sorry for sending requests back to back lol, I keep having my brain work and it's crazy:

UR RECENT SIRIUS FIC GAVE ME AND IDEA! imagine poly!marauders where both reader and sirius speak french? And maybe reader uses it more when she sleepy (that's usually when I speak french), so she's just sleepily gushing to sirius abt him and james and remus and HOW MUCH SHE FUCKING LOVES THEM AND HOW PERFECT THEY ARE AND SHIT??? Omfggg

Sincerely, :]

Omg yes, thanks for requesting my love!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 719 words

“You’re all too nice to me,” you mumble as Sirius pulls your hair back into a loose bun, James washing your face with a moist cloth. “I love you guys. Not just for this, though. I love you in general.” 

Sirius’ lips curve as he watches bemusement find its way into James’ expression. He wonders if your decision to make your lovey-dovey declarations in French was even a conscious one, or if you’ve just defaulted to it as you sometimes do when you’re this sleepy. He decides to answer you in it regardless. “I love you in general, too, my sweetheart. And we’re not even as nice as you deserve.” 

“I don’t like it when they do this,” James says to Remus, even as he dries your face with a loving hand. “It’s exclusionary.”

“They don’t get it,” you lament to Sirius, catching his smirk in the mirror. “It’s so much nicer when you’re lazy. The words just flow.” 

“I don’t know,” Remus answers James, spitting toothpaste into the sink. “It’s kind of hot.” 

Sirius’ heartbeat picks up frighteningly quickly, but his grin is wicked as he leans his head on your shoulder. “Did you hear that, my love?” he asks, not bothering to whisper since no one but you can understand. “Remus Lupin thinks we’re hot.” 

“Even when they say your name?” James asks, gesturing to Sirius as if to emphasize his point. 

Remus gives Sirius a lingering look. It takes everything in him not to collapse onto the floor. Sirius looks down, breaking Remus’ stare, just to make sure he is indeed still wearing pants. “Especially then.” 

“But they could be saying anything!”

“He’s so pretty,” you say breathily, gazing at Remus. His brows raise at your devoted attention, a twinkle of amusement lighting his amber eyes. Your gaze slides to James, looking at you with suspicion. “They both are.” You turn your eyes last to Sirius, and it’s a different look than the one he’d just received from Remus, but it melts him just the same. “You all are. And all so good, and funny, and smart. I can’t believe my luck.” 

Sirius chuckles, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “Me neither. Do you think they know?” 

You hum, leaning back and letting him support some of your weight. He takes it happily. It’s going to be one of those nights where you’re asleep before the rest of them have even made it to bed, he can tell. “Not well enough.” 

“Cease looking at me like that this instant,” James demands. “Moony, why do they look like they want to eat us?” 

“Doesn’t sound like such an awful idea,” you say through a yawn, pulling out of Sirius’ arms to move towards the bed.

He follows you. “True,” he says, casting a charged look back at his boyfriends. “I could probably gnaw on a bicep, now that you mention it.” 

“It’s kind of nice that not everyone can understand,” you observe drowsily as you slip under the covers. “Makes it easier to say what we mean.” 

Sirius laughs. “Of course these are your darkest, most secret thoughts, you softie.” He sits down on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from your lovely face. “If you couldn’t understand me, I’d be saying much filthier stuff.” He cocks his head. “Actually, you don’t know what braquemard means, do you?”

Your eyebrows cinch, and there’s a gasp from the bathroom a moment before James comes barreling into the room.

“I heard something!” He exclaims. Sirius smirks up at him from his place on the bed. “That brack-whatever—it’s dirty, I think. I’ve heard him use it before.” You snicker into your pillow, and James looks at you in horror. “Angel, what’s he roped you into? Is he corrupting you while we can’t protect you?”

“Interesting,” Remus hums, moving slowly towards the bed. He approaches Sirius, nudging the other boy’s legs apart and fitting himself between them. Sirius’ heart pounds against his rib cage as Remus tilts his head up, fingers curled lightly around his jaw. “Gonna tell us what you’ve got to say, pretty boy?”

Sirius takes a shuddering inhale, static filling his head as Remus strokes idly at his face. 

You make an amused harrumphing sound, and speak in English so everyone can hear. “Softie.” 

[izvmimi]

cw: post archon war, current time period. reader is a goddess. a little melancholy. mature but no overt smut.

“You’ve never taken a lover, have you, Morax?”

You mean your voice to be light, and it is, breathy with the levity conferred by a profoundly good fuck, a warm flush to your complexion still representative of your lingering affection for him. His eyes, lidded shut in quiet contemplation, open languidly and he turns, golden eyes on you and gleaming, quick to sense the playfulness in your voice.

“In this manner, do you mean to mock my technique?” he asks. His voice is low, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your loosely interlaced fingers.

You shift, pressing your legs together, and turning in his direction to face him. Your foreheads barely touch, and your lips remain just inches apart, as if they hadn’t connected frequently over the course of the night. He looks at them not hungrily but with tempered greed, like another kiss would be an overindulgence.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

He sighs, and chooses not to kiss you yet, but pulls you closer. You adjust, resting your head on his chest, your fingers untangling from each other so that you can gently tap them against his chest. A few moments pass, and then he’s quick to take your hand again in his palm, bringing the fingertips to his lips. 

“But you do dare. I do now have to admit, I’m worried, that somehow you may not be satisfied with our time together.”

His voice is steady still and if he’s truly hurt and not just playing along with your joke, you won’t catch it. But he’s still handling you tenderly, and your desire for closeness persists. Throwing your knee over his waist is not enough; even the sensation of his body inside yours, filling you deeply, is not enough. 

You’re not sure yet what you want.

“I enjoy our time together always.” Your reminder is sincere, sweetly delivered.

“I could enthuse you in other things,” Zhongli asks. His eyes are to the ceiling, while yours are on him. “There are many games I have yet to teach you, perhaps over wine or tea.”

The idea of losing a game that you don’t understand in a foreign land doesn’t particularly enthuse you quite at all, but of course, you are a guest. A well taken care of guest, in fact, and often you wonder how many friends he’s made to replace the ones he’s lost over the eons - even if you’ve remained a constant from back then, gods often struggle to keep close relationships whether it’s among themselves or with mortals. You consider that Zhongli at least appears to be well loved in this new era, even if he keeps an air of seriousness around him that may push others away.

You wonder if he’s doing this with anyone else.

“You’d have me taste osmanthus wine again?” you ask him. 

“Why not?”

In a swift roll, you move so that you’re on top of him, and his arms rest around the base of your waist. Squishing his cheeks gently, then reveling in how his generally stoic countenance softens at your playfulness, you smile.

“I’m flattered. It’s been over a thousand years.”

Zhongli lets out a chuckle, pulling the covers to shield you from the cold of the early morning, the windows having remained open a crack to let out the smell of the incense you burned last night to pray for the dearly departed. It’s a tradition you’ve had with him for quite a while now, if only because it’s within your particular expertise to do so - that, and whatever this is, serving each other physically most of the night into the early morning and idle chat in the daytime.

It’s supposedly good for you, to expel that excess energy and to help him expel his, but sometimes you wonder.

“Zhongli.”

You use his mortal name sparingly, and it often catches his attention more readily than when you call him by his other name.

“Yes?” He is quick to respond, glowing amber oh so charitable to your thoughts.

How silly it is to call for his attention when he is right in front of you. 

You take a deep breath, then blurt out, “I know you would call this divine cultivation but I have no desire for more power in any way, shape, or form. Plus, I am quite balanced spiritually at this stage of my existence.”

He pauses.

“I understand.” His hand finds its way to caress your cheek gently, and you try not to let it distract you from your next statement.

“And what if I suggested also, that potentially, you yourself, might have enough?” To this, he sighs, and lets his hand drop.

“You are not wrong.”

Your heart skips a beat and soon you can no longer look at him, pressing your head against his chest instead for this next question.

“So what do we call this?” You finally ask. You want him to call it love but you don’t ask for it, and you’re embarrassed to fish deeper, and yet…

Humans have sex - rather, make love - for pleasure. You would like to do the same, rather than pretend that there is some higher purpose to the way you make each other feel, some greater meaning to your cries and moans of pleasure.

You can feel the heave in his chest as he responds.

“Claiming a moment for myself… chasing a feeling does not end well for me.”

You look into his eyes again, let his words flow into you. 

“No sooner than I claim something as my own, would it find its way far from me.”

You rise.

“Morax…”

You’ve called him by his old name again, and he laughs, but you are not laughing. Your face is warm and your heart pounds.

“Are you telling me that you care about me or not?”

The timing must be right again, because soon you are flipped under him, and he presses his lips against yours again, his hand cupping your face.

“I don’t control fate the way I would like to. Not anymore.”

You pull in a breath sharply, then whisper:

“A decision you made and can easily overturn.”

He shakes his head.

“A contract.”

Your arms wrap around his neck again.

“Anything can be renegotiated,” you remind him. Your lips graze again, and another sigh escapes the both of you.

“Not death,” he reminds you. He has you there. Your lips pull into a sad smile automatically.

“And thus in calling you my lover-” Zhongli continues.

“I did not ask you to call me your lover, I simply asked-” you start, shame sending flame through your body. He smiles before he interjects again.

“I run the risk of adding you to the list of things that exist to me only in memory.”

Your blood runs cold suddenly, and he finally pulls back from you, rising out of bed to stand. 

“We should begin our day,” he states, matter-of-factly. His hair is tousled still, the long lengths contrasting sharply against pristine pale skin, and you watch him in naked form move across the room to close the windows, the simple action fulfilled with the fluidity and grace of someone who’s probably existed long before time itself. Still grand, still heavenly. While he is undoubtedly calm, your heart thumps in beat with the tempest of thoughts in your mind.

Zhongli loves you, and it’s obvious. To call you dear out loud to him is akin to marking you for loss. Are you comfortable being loved if it will only add to his pain? Must you claim more than just the moments shared between the two of you?

“Zhongli,” you start, as he is just about to walk out of the room. He stops abruptly, and turns in your direction. He doesn’t say a word, just waits for you to speak. 

“I will not die,” you say out loud. You’re sitting up and perhaps now, you are the opposite of strength, looking painfully vulnerable in the way you’ve gathered soft sheets to cover your bosom, in sharp contrast to Zhongli who bothers not to hide anything, uncontested power personified.

For a moment, you can tell that he’s surprised by your declaration, and yet you press on.

“I will stay. Perhaps, if I want to, I will exist even long past you do. But I will stay in this realm, and I can be yours for eternity.” 

You pause, so that your voice does not waver. 

“You are allowed to love me.”

…

The early morning remains cold, but the birds begin to chirp their good mornings, and Zhongli speaks your name with greater tenderness than he ever has, as he makes love to you once more.

[mari-the-bimbo]

Gojo’s Satoru’s obsession

A/N: Some yummy content for our glorious king 🙏👑

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected sex, age gap implied

Gojo Satoru was obsessed with you from the moment he laid his icy blue eyes on you. He knew he needed you, in a way he couldn’t explain, you were made for him, he could feel it. Fantasies of spoiling you, kissing you and touching you forever played on his mind.

So once you finally gave the business tycoon a chance, he wasted no time making his admiration known. You haven’t been dating for long but you sure knew how he felt about you through his touchy ways.

“So how was college today princess?” He says casually, as if his tall 6’3 figure isn’t towering over you, making you hyper aware of the size difference.

You both sat on his leather sofa in his large monochromatic living room. A dim light from the crystal lamp that glowed amber.

“Oh it was okay” you manage to say with a smile. His long pale finger twirling strands of your hair, “oh yeah?” He purrs with a devious smile, as he watches your poor attempt to keep your composure, he knew his sweet girl wouldn’t last long though. Not when you’re already blushing and squirming in your seat.

He leans in closer and takes off his sunglasses as if to create more tension, before asking “you didn’t miss me too much did you?”

Trick question, he was setting you up, either answer leads to a dangerous territory.

However you couldn’t deny his scheming flirty ways and the authority he had over you didn’t turn you on. You tear your gaze away from his entrancing eyes and fiddle with his shirt, “um well..”

“Y/n~” he sings your name out when you don’t answer.

His bulge now pressing against you, you gasp from the sudden contact but that doesn’t stop him from grinding against your clothed pussy painfully slow. You feel the hardness cause friction between your sensitive area until you had a wet patch exposing your desire. You hear a stifled laugh from Gojo as he reaches down to play with the wet material. Pervert.

Suddenly you find yourself dry humping him too, chasing that delicious feeling it gave you. He smiles widely at your contorted face, eyes closed, gosh you’re so cute when he has you like this.

“Oh Gojo…” you sigh

“Say it”

“I missed you too much!” You gasp as your hands weakly attempt to pull his grey sweatpants down.

“Hey hey slow down princess, I’ll take them off for you okay? You know I’d never deny you anything right?” He says, with a soft chuckle. You nod your head in agreement.

And so as you hold eye contact with his intense gaze on you, his hands travel down, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers at once, exposing his girthy cock, pre cum glistening at his pink tip.

He gives it a few pumps with his own hand, and all you could do is stare in awe before he placed his cock into your own trembling hand, much to your surprise.

“Your turn” he says with a flirty wink, and you blink a few times, before getting to work. You knew the drill, if you wanted him inside you, you need to work for it.

Your much smaller hands pumped his now wet cock, smearing more wetness along the length, the cold feeling of the diamond bracelet he bought you touches his skin, causing him to shiver in pleasure. His hands were still entangled in your head as he let out a strangled moan. “Oh you’re so good to me y/n, such a good girl for me” he whispered.

“You deserve it don’t you?” He asks. And you know what he’s referring to. “Yeah”

“Take it off then”

Upon command, you waste no time leaving his length to undress yourself, taking off your panties to welcome him. He has a content smile as he watches you adoringly, hands behind his head.

Once you’re finally undressed, Gojo grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him to line his tip up with your folds.

Now it was a harmonious team effort of moans between you and Gojo, both immediately lost in pleasure as he pushes his length into you after promising to only ‘start with the tip’’ liar, he knew he didn’t have such self control when it came to you.

The power of his thrusts rocks your hips back and forth. At some point your screams of his name overtakes his loud moans from when you grab the white strands of his hair in desperation. Your back arches in pleasure but Gojo is quick to press you back down with just one hand.

“Can’t miss me when I’m buried inside you yeah?” He rasps as his pace quickens and you knew you were close.

You’re unable to respond as you become a whimpering mess, responding with nothing but another scream as your vision blurs. He moans as he feels his own high too, “yes yes yes that’s it, yes!” pressing himself closer to you into a mating press as you both cum, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he releases his hot white cream into you with a lewd moan.

Your chest heaves from the aftermath. But your strong, older boyfriend holds you in his warm embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, letting him press flat against you as you both catch your breath.

Once you finally escape the euphoria, you look up from Gojo’s chest to see him already staring at you with a lovesick smile. How could someone hold so much love for you after only knowing you for a while?

“Such a sweet girl” he praises as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, jokingly booping your nose just after to make you laugh.

“Forget college tomorrow, spend some time with me instead okay?“ he says pressing a kiss to your cheek as you scoff knowing damn well you won’t be able to walk tomorrow anyways.

[natsaffection]

Mafias Mistress pt. 2 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x CivilianYounger!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), kinda mean Nat, Daddy kink, BDSM, restraints, Begging, multiple orgasm, strap on (r receiving) rough sex, fingering (r receiving) poor Natty who doesn’t understand feelings 🤲🏼

Word Count: 3,7 K

A/N: Second part is here! More details about the relationship will appear in the next chapter + maybe Natasha’s secret will already be revealed, who knows🙌🏻🙌🏻

The air in the dimly lit room was thick with tension, a palpable sense of danger surrounding the two women seated at the mahogany table. Natasha Romanoff exuded an aura of power and mystery with her piercing green eyes and wavy red hair falling past her shoulders. She tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the polished surface, a subtle yet commanding gesture that spoke volumes about her authority.

Maria Hill, whose steely gaze and unwavering loyalty were etched into every line of her face, stood by Natasha's side like a watchful sentinel. Her clenched jaw and furrowed brow betrayed the gravity of the situation. As she began to update Natasha on the latest developments in the shadow world they navigated with practiced finesse, a sense of unease settled over the room like a heavy cloak.

Maria's voice was quiet and measured as she described the intricate web of alliances and betrayals that threatened to engulf her carefully built empire.

"Dreykov's men have invaded our territory, testing our defenses, trying to find a weak spot," Maria explained, her tone a mixture of concern and determination. Natasha leaned back in her chair, the soft leather creaking slightly under her weight, her eyes never leaving Maria's face.

The crackle of the fireplace in the corner sent flickering shadows dancing across the walls, adding an eerie undertone to the already tense atmosphere in the room. Natasha's fingers closed around the crystal glass of whiskey in front of her, the amber liquid swirling hypnotically as she considered Maria's words. Beneath her calm facade simmered a variety of conflicting emotions, a potent cocktail of concern, admiration, and a simmering undercurrent of defiance.

Natasha's mind was like a stormy sea, each wave crashing against the walls she had carefully built around herself. Maria watched her carefully, her sharp eyes noticing every slight change in Natasha's demeanor. The weight of unspoken words lay heavy between them, a silent understanding that went beyond mere words.

Natasha's gaze flickered from Maria's unwavering eyes to the crackling fireplace in the corner, as if seeking comfort in the dancing flames. The room seemed to shrink around them, suffocating in its intimacy, each breath taken with measured caution.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Last Night ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The room was shrouded in shadow, the only source of light coming from the dimly lit bedside lamp. Natasha leaned back on the silk sheets, her gaze fixed on the woman in front of her, her expression a mixture of desire and dominance.

"Daddyyy.." whispered the woman who was Natasha's nightly attendant, her voice trembling with anticipation. Natasha's lips curved into a predatory smile as she beckoned the woman closer, her eyes dark with desire. "Come here," she commanded, her voice dripping with authority.

The woman obeyed, her movements careful as she approached Natasha, keenly aware of the power dynamics at play. Natasha's touch was possessive, her hands sliding over the woman's skin with a need that bordered on desperation.

In the heat of the moment, Natasha's mind wandered to forbidden fantasies, her desires leading her down a treacherous path. And then, in a moment of reckless abandon, she spoke a name that did not belong to the woman herself, but held power beyond imagination.

"Y/n.." Natasha murmured, her voice animated with desire as she lost herself in her fantasy.

The woman froze at the unfamiliar name, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to understand Natasha's slip of the tongue. "Y/n?" she began, her voice shaking with uncertainty. "Who is Y/n?"

Natasha's expression darkened, her features twisting with hurt as she realized her mistake. "What do you mean?" she snapped, her voice irritated.

The woman took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to say. "The name..." she explained, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "You just said a different name, Y/n.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed at the mention of your name, her defenses instinctively rising to protect her fragile heart. "That name means nothing to me," she insisted, her voice cold and dismissive.

But the woman saw through Natasha's facade and recognized the pain and longing that lay beneath the surface. "Natasha, please," she pleaded, her voice laced with compassion. "I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you said her name. Who is she?"

Natasha's anger flared, her facade of control fading as she pushed the woman away with a forceful gesture. "Enough," she growled, her voice sharp with frustration. "You're here for my pleasure, nothing more, remember that."

The woman backed away at Natasha's sudden outburst, her heart sinking as she realized the futility of her efforts. "I-I know! But I might be able to help you with that..with her. Sounded like you were caring-"

But Natasha was beside herself with reason, her mind clouded by anger and fear. "Get out of here," she ordered, her voice icy and unforgiving. "I don't want to see you again."

The woman's heart shattered at Natasha's words, the pain of rejection cutting deeper than any physical wound. With one last sad look, she turned and fled the room, leaving Natasha alone in the darkness with her demons.

As the door closed behind her, Natasha was left with nothing but the echo of her own regret, the weight of her choices pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. And in that moment of loneliness, she realized the true price of her pride and stubbornness.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Now ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Maria cleared her throat, bracing herself for what she was about to say. "Our sources have confirmed that the rival cartel is taking steps to expand its territory," she began, her voice firm despite the tension in the room. "They are targeting our key distribution networks and..."

Natasha's mind wandered, a hint of annoyance crossing her face as memories of the past overshadowed her thoughts. Your face popped into her mind, an unwelcome reminder of a vulnerability she had long buried.

"Natasha?" Maria's voice broke through the fog, jolting Natasha back to the present.

Natasha's jaw clenched as she forced herself to focus, pushing aside the unwelcome memories that threatened to consume her. "Continue," she commanded, her voice clipped and dismissive.

Maria hesitated for a moment, narrowing her eyes in concern as Natasha's sudden change in demeanor irritated her. "Is everything okay?" she asked in a worried voice.

Natasha's mask fell, revealing the turmoil raging within her. "Everything is fine," she replied curtly, her kindness betraying her inner turmoil.

But Maria was not so easily fooled, her instincts honed by years of loyalty and service to Natasha. "You seem distracted," she remarked in a soft yet searching voice. "Do you have something on your mind?"

Natasha bristled at the suggestion, her defenses ramping up to protect her wounded pride. "I don't have time for distractions," she snapped, her voice sounding frustrated. Maria stood firm, unfazed by Natasha's outburst. "With all due respect, Natasha, this is important," she insisted, her gaze unwavering as she met Natasha's eyes. "We must be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Natasha's resolve wavered, her anger melting away in the face of Maria's unwavering loyalty. "I know," she admitted, her voice softening a little. "I...I just have a lot on my mind."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As she entered the room, Natasha's eyes immediately fell on the ropes and shackles hanging from the ceiling. She felt the familiar stirrings of power and control, her body already humming with anticipation. When she turned to face you, she could see the young woman's wide eyes and slight trepidation mixed with excitement in her gaze.

"Take off your clothes," Natasha instructed. "And then kneel on the floor, hands behind your back."

You obeyed, your heart beating faster as you removed your clothes, revealing your delicate, slender figure. As you assumed the kneeling position, Natasha stepped behind you and gently ran her fingers through your hair.

"Good girl," she purred, feeling a wave of satisfaction as you shivered under her touch. This has been going on for several weeks now. Natasha was desperate and called you. But her being desperate for you is another story.

Natasha walked over to the table laden with ropes, restraints, and other toys. She chose a piece of soft, supple rope and approached you with it. "Arms up," she ordered. "I'm going to tie you up." You obeyed, raising your arms above your head as Natasha began wrapping the rope around your wrists.

The rough texture of the rope brushed against your sensitive skin, sending tingles down your spine. You closed your eyes and let out a soft sigh as Natasha pulled the ropes tight and straightened your arms.

Now that you were securely bound, Natasha walked to the front of the room where an intricate set of leather restraints hung from the ceiling. She attached the restraints to your wrists, pulled you up, and secured you to the ceiling hooks.

Your body was now spread out, vulnerable and exposed to Natasha. Natasha stood before you, taking a moment to admire her work. She ran her fingers over the curve of your chest, tracing a line across your stomach, pausing just above your aching sex.

"You look so fucking beautiful," she murmured, her voice hoarse with excitement. Your breath caught, your body trembled as Natasha slowly began to lunge at you. You could feel the heat of Natasha's breath on your skin, causing goosebumps. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Natasha picked up a whip from the nearby table and gently ran it along your thighs.

The leather strands caressed your skin, burning gently with each smack. You moaned softly, your body's reaction betraying you. You craved more, wanted Natasha to test your limits and bring you to the brink of pleasure and pain.

And as if she could read your mind, Natasha flicked the whip harder, sending a shockwave of pain and pleasure through your body.

"Please..," you begged, your voice tight with desire.

Natasha knew what you wanted, so she’s smacking your breasts and stomach with the whip, leaving a satisfying red mark on your skin. Your moans grew louder, your body arching in pleasure and pain.

Natasha enjoyed the power and control she had over you, her own desire growing with each lash of the whip. She dropped the whip and moved closer to you. She ran her fingers over your wetness, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"You like that, don't you?" Natasha teased, pressing her fingers deeper into your core. You nodded and bit your lower lip as Natasha began to stroke your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Natasha's touch was incredibly skillful, bringing you closer to the edge with each movement of her fingers. "Beg for it," Natasha growled, nipping at your ear with her teeth. "Beg for me to make you come."

"Please," you gasped, your body burning with desire. "Please let me come. I need it. I need you..“ Natasha giggled darkly, continuing her relentless assault on your sensitive flesh.

You writhed and moaned beneath her, your body begging for release. Natasha's own need rose, her arousal unmistakable as she ran her fingers over your clit.

She plunged her fingers deep inside you, feeling your muscles tighten around them as she began to thrust harder and faster. "Oh, fuck, yes.." you gasped, the pressure inside you rising to unbearable levels.

Your hips rose, seeking more friction, more pleasure. Natasha did not disappoint, her fingers moving in a fast and steady rhythm that matched your pace. Your breathing quickened, your heart pounding in your chest. You felt the familiar tingling before the surge of pleasure, the blinding light that was your release.

"Cum for me," Natasha demanded with a low growl. With one final thrust of Natasha's fingers, you break, gasping and moaning as you come violently against her.

Natasha held you there, prolonging the ecstasy as you shuddered and trembled. As you came down from your high, Natasha slowly pulled her fingers from your wetness, bringing them to her own lips and sucking them clean.

"You taste so fucking good," she said, her eyes shining with lust. You couldn't help but blush and squirm as Natasha continued to lick and tease her fingers. "You're so fucking wet and ready for me."

Natasha wrapped her arms around your shoulders, her mouth finding yours in a new wave of passion. You could feel Natasha's hands sliding down your body, grabbing your ass and kneading your flesh.

"I want to feel you i-inside me," you whisper, gasping for air. Natasha didn't need to be asked twice, she was already hungry for your taste. She lifted your legs up and wrapped them around her waist, going deeper into you with each thrust. The room was filled with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other, their moans and groans of pleasure, punctuated by the occasional curse word. It was raw and primal, and both of you reveled in it.

Your body trembled beneath Natasha's as you gave yourself over to the experience. You could feel every inch of Natasha's fake cock inside you, filling you and stretching you to the edge of pain. But you wanted more. You wanted to feel everything Natasha had to offer.

"Beg me to thrust harder," she gasps, your fingers digging into Natasha's back. "Please...fuck me harder...!"

Natasha's fingers dug into your hips, holding you tight as she thrust into you with an intensity that took both of your breath away. "Yebat (fuck), you feel so good," Natasha murmured, her breath warm against your neck.

Your nails dug into Natasha's back, leaving red welts. You were lost in the haze of pleasure, her mind blank except for the rush of sensations coursing through your body.

Natasha's thrusts became wilder and her breath came in ragged gasps. Your own orgasm was already building inside you, each pounding thrust pulling you closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm coming," Natasha growled, her clit rubbing against yours with each movement. Your response was only a soft whimper, your muscles tightening around Natasha as the first wave of your orgasm washed over you.

Natasha's thrusts became more erratic, her body stiffening as she followed you over the edge."Oh, fuck!" Natasha gasped, her fingers digging into your hips. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Your orgasm continued to rip through you, leaving you shaking and gasping. Natasha's body fell against of yours, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for air.

Slowly, Natasha pulled out of your body, freeing you from your bonds. She’s bringing you over to her bed, your legs trembled, still caught in the aftershocks of your orgasm. Natasha wrapped her arms around your waist, holding you close and kissing you deeply.

"You were incredible," Natasha murmured, tracing patterns on your stomach with her fingers. You smiled exhaustedly, your heart still racing. "That was... incredible."

Your vision blurred, every muscle in your body frozen in a wonderfully wild tableau. Natasha pulled you close, their sweat-soaked bodies entwined as they fought to catch their breath. Their mutual satisfaction hung thick and heavy in the air.

Your breaths mingled as you stared at each other, eyes glazed with contented exhaustion. Your heavy breaths formed a synchronized rhythm as you embraced in the dim light, skin flushed and chest heaving. Exhausted and exhilarated, you lay in her arms, still and calm, letting the lulling drum of their synchronized heartbeats sing you to sleep.

As the fog of post-orgasmic pleasure dissipated, tenderness stirred within Natasha, wrapping her heart in an unfamiliar warmth. It was a feeling that reached beyond the boundaries of physical pleasure and crept behind the heavy curtains that normally concealed her feelings.

In those fleeting moments, she wanted nothing more than to surrender to the dreamy cloud of affection that swirled around her. Yet she resisted, clinging grimly to the remnants of her past.

Natasha could barely comprehend the confusing feelings that left her speechless. She had always believed that she was incapable of such vulnerability. You shifted your weight and pressed your cheek against Natasha's chest. Your eyelids were heavy with the impending sleep.

Despite the inner turmoil, Natasha felt her heart swell at the sight. She put an arm protectively around you and traced lazy patterns on your back. Her fingertips left a fiery trail on the skin beneath.

Natasha's heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful sleep, your dreams carrying you to a land free from the burden of reality. Natasha's defenses dropped and the irresistible lure of exploring deeper emotional terrain seduced her.

It was a foreign path, one she had never allowed herself to tread. And yet here she was, rowing the swaying boat through choppy waters, only partially certain of her destination.

She shifted you gently in her arms, maneuvering you so that they were lying side by side on the plush crimson velvet. The dim lights danced on their entwined bodies as you touched, sweet memories of the forbidden fruit they had just enjoyed.

Their limbs intertwined effortlessly and the wry smiles they shared conveyed a wealth of unspoken intimacy. The room was filled with the soft glow of moonlight, casting a halo around your sleeping form as you lay nestled against Natasha's side.

As Natasha's racing heartbeat gradually slowed to a steady rhythm, she lost herself in the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the rhythmic sound like a soothing lullaby. And in that quiet moment of intimacy, as your warmth seeped into her skin, Natasha felt something stir inside her - a stirring of feelings she had long denied.

With shaking hands, Natasha brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, her touch gentle and reverent. And as she looked at the sleeping figure beside her, bathed in the soft light of the moon, Natasha felt a wave of longing wash over her - a longing for more than fleeting passion and desire.

In that moment of vulnerability, Natasha's walls crumbled, her defenses laid bare before the only person who had managed to break through her cover.

With a soft exhale, she whispered the words she hadn't dared admit for a long time, not even to herself. "I think I'm falling in love with you," Natasha confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. And as the words hung in the air between them, she knew there was no turning back.

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🏷️ TAGLIST:

@new-Lee-marvel-fan-blog @taliiiaasteria @kipitou @queen2234 @sgm616 @dorabledewdroop @natsxwife @natashaswife4125 @loneliestafterparty @jenniferjareauwife @maggieromanov @doveromanoff

[zhongrin]

“honey, can you… leave me alone?”

— (sometimes, we all just need some downtime for ourselves)

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, diluc, kaeya, kaveh, thoma, albedo, wanderer, xiao

◇ tags ◇ angst with comfort, established relationship, petnames

◇ a/n ◇ oh wow! guys!! i wrote angst with comfort!!! guys!!!!!!! are you proud of me????? this is kinda self-indulgent bc i wrote this when i was just. tired. you know, those moments where you genuinely just want to shut down and be in your own company? yeah.

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli smiles patiently. and if he judged that you would allow him to, he would place a kiss on top of your head before stepping away. his movements are graceful and calculated, amber eyes ever so observant as he watches the droop of your lashes and the downturn of your lips.

ah. you’re in that kind of mood.

with a firm nod, he promises to give you all the space you needed, as long as at the end of the day you return to his arms. a few hours or days of waiting would certainly make him miss you terribly, but zhongli is a patient man, and your well-being matters most.

“of course. you’ll come to me when you’re ready, yes?”

al haitham understands your needs very well. contrary to most people’s beliefs, he would put them just as equally high - if not more - than his own needs most of the time.

he simply nods upon your words and, after much consideration, would place his soundproof headphones on your side before he leaves the room, carefully minding his footsteps as he walks towards kaveh’s room to inform the architect of the situation and remind him to tone his antics down.

“alright. call me if you need anything.”

diluc would automatically ask you if something is wrong or is bothering you - it’s his protective instincts, don’t blame him too much - but he knows not to probe further when you give him that look.

he offers for a maid to deliver your favorite warm drink later, and with one last comforting squeeze of his hand on top of yours, he leaves, his head full of questions and his heart set to spoil you rotten the moment you return to his side.

“adelinde? tell the maids to skip cleaning [name]’s study today. and tell the workers to be especially quiet when they walk about the second floor.”

kaeya might only have half the eyesight normal people have, yet he’s anything but inattentive, especially when it comes to you. he settles with a light, fleeting caress upon your cheek with his gloved hand, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead before retreating, offering you a sympathetic grin.

“i got you, babe. i’ll be at the office doing paperwork for once, but you can visit me anytime, okay?”

thoma holds back the urge to fuss over you like the mother hen that he is.

he knows about this habit of yours - sometimes lady ayaka exhibits the same behavior - so he knows he shouldn’t be too worried. you always get over this eventually; what you need now is time, and just like any other point in time in your relationship, he is more than willing to accommodate all of your desires.

“do you need me to sleep at the couch tonight? it’s really no trouble at all, love. anything that makes you most comfortable, okay?”

kaveh visibly pouts and looks like he’s about to cry when you ask him for such a request.

he can’t help it, okay? he wants to hold and kiss and cherish you constantly! so having to deliberately spend some time apart from you is torture to him… plus, those tired eyes of yours hurt his poor empathetic heart more than anything.....

with a saddened nod, he fiddles his fingers and gives you a pair of wet puppy eyes.

“are you sure, baby? …... you know you can tell me anything, right? …… whenever you’re ready, okay, precious? i’ll be in the living room, then…. come find me soon, okay, my love?”

albedo doesn’t even bat an eye. he’s already long since memorized your behavioral patterns, and from your recent ventures, he did conclude that this was going to happen. all within expectations, he muses, yet he can’t help but feel saddened at the exhaustion prominently displayed on your features.

with a soft smile, he places his specially curated ‘care package’ on your lap along with a gentle kiss on your cheek before exiting the room and hanging a “do not disturb - contact albedo instead” sign right in front of the door.

“there are a few snacks and calming scented candles inside, along with a few interesting puzzles and crafts. i thought you might like them and find them relaxing. i’ll be at the lab - just send a message through sucrose or timaeus if you need me.”

wanderer’s automatic response is a half-fearful, half-angry “are you fucking serious? hell no!”, but the second emotion is amplified when he sees the murkiness in your expression.

he swears to inflict pain upon whoever dared to put this expression on your face, but he falters when you explain your thoughts the best you can in your current headspace. eventually, with a scowl on his face and a gruff "fine.", the door closes behind him and he slides onto the floor. sure, you can shoo him away, but he has no intention to move from that spot until you reopen the said door.

“….. hmph. guess being a puppet is a good thing at times like these.”

xiao relates to your struggles far too well. he simply nods and teleports out from the room as fast as he could, not wanting his karmic debt to affect your mood further negatively.

throughout it all, your silent protector watches from afar and listens to the wind around you ever so cautiously. just because he agreed to give you space, it doesn’t mean he can’t continue to make sure you’re safe and sound, after all.

“understood. you need only call my name when you are ready to see me.”

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @nachotrash | @algrimmammon | @sassy-cat-in-town

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

“I want you,” is all your voice can manage, evaporating into the raw need that you are currently holding for your best-friend.

It’s a mutual lunch break hour from differing work environments, and you’d managed to huddle up into your benefits part of the friendship package, piling into Steve’s backseat. It’s not the first time… and it definitely will not be the last…

You’re insatiable for him, thoughts having been built from the night before, as you came three times with his name on your kiss starved lips.

Steve.

Steve.

Steve.

Paper bags and wrappers are carelessly littered to the beemer’s floorboards. Jackets discarded. Indiana’s icy autumn air goes hand in hand with Steve’s heater - leaving behind streaks of accumulated fog that is glistening across every window. Traded lunch tastes linger with every kiss. Steve’s peanut butter and jelly strong on his tongue as you pass it by with a sweep of your own turkey club.

And if you ask Steve Harrington one of the things he most remembers about today, it’s how you shamelessly licked the chip crumb from the corner of his mouth to finish it off. You were helped into his lap when the turning point occurred (a look, one that’s before a paused heartbeat, a sharp - shared breath). Only, it’s different on this occasion. Sure, you’ve taken control before, rode him until his eyes crossed and his toes curled into a crack, one that had him squeezing you so hard that you felt it for days. However, there’s something more building here and he knows that you know, but he isn’t sure what will happen (he is just privy to what he wants, what he’s fucking terrified to say).

“You have me,” he says, a blush pecking into the apple of his cheeks, results stirring between his legs.

You both take in those words - for a moment the sound of a soft rain and falling leaves trickling across his back windshield all that you can hear. But then Steve exhales a withheld breath that bumps at you from positioning, and you’re super sensitive to the situation, the need becoming an aching, overwhelming hunger to have. You find that freckle on his left ear first, licking your way down his jaw to follow, your hips starting rock in his lap - an established rhythm you’d worked together to find over the months. Steve’s eyes roll back, toes tingling in his Nike’s, and he’s realizing the interior of his car’s roof.

“Holy shit, honey.”

It’s said wet, weak. And he’s pretty sure he just spit the words into the air. But you pay it no mind, encouraged to find those defined tendons, covered in old scars and beauty marks alike - paying attention to each one. Steve attempts to raise his hips, close his legs to get some friction on his own accord. You provide, in synch, seconds later, dipping into a particularly hard thrust that has him whining into a whimpering pain.

It rushes across your body - molten heat obliterating your insides into an irreparable mess. Pulling away, you press your fingers straight into his mouth, nudging his chin back, your own tongue slicking across your teeth as you watch yourself wrecking him in only ways that you know how. Starved to command, to pleasure, to give to him, it’s leaving your lungs and you don’t try to stop it.

“Suck on them. Come on, Steve, work for it.”

He doesn’t falter, the blown amber irises into twisted tangles, gone to blown abyss that is his pupils. He’s gone glazed over, sucking the salty taste off your digits, wanting so badly to be good for you. His trust in you, his engagement, you’re having to undo his jeans with a noisy, hasty hassle. Getting him bare cannot come quick enough. Watching his size spill from his briefs, resting its heavy, warm weight in your grasp as you reach - it takes you completely under its bidding. Steve is mesmerized, hands finding the plush of your waist to hold onto.

You manage to get your tights slid down from beneath your tennis skirt, coolness rushing in to prickle along your flesh. You won’t be bothered with boots, so you simply slide the pink silk aside, hovering over him. Steve can feel the slick silk as you brush yourself across his length, gently giving a tantalizing taste of a tease, your hand shining with the stain of his pre-release. He wants to pound you into the driver’s seat, his teeth clenched, legs bouncing. It simply serves to add more to the temptress show.

There’s a particularly large surge of rain that spills across the crystal behind your heads, in perfect timing with your new whispers. You get close, hands now pushing his shirt up to expose that deliciously black tufted chest, taking your fingers through soft curls. You circle his areola with a nail’s edge, lips sucking in his earlobe, before releasing to divulge a secret. “Wanna take you home and lay you out in my bed, pin your hands above your head.”

A low groan rumbles into a release from his throat. You take pity, one hand cupping his cheek. He holds his breath, your spare hand remaining on his chest, both heartbeats doing sporadic gallops, eyes zoned in on one another. He can’t function, you can barely let it roll off of your salivating tongue. “You gonna let me fuck you?”

Steve cries out, a literal beg and plead combo that makes you grasp and tug him back into your palm. It serves to your reminding cause. “Such a good guy, Steve. An incredible lover, the best best-friend a girl will ever have. Teaching me so much, always willing to learn.”

He goes shy at that, tries to tuck his face into your shoulder. “M’ not…”

Your spare hand finds his chin and holds him level. “You’re fucking everything, Steve Harrington. And I wanna — no — I need to feel you inside every single part of me.”

There’s this bone deep, muscle scraping rasp that drips like scorching, soaking hot honey when he speaks. You watch the five o’clock shadow swirl around his mouth as it separates to answer. His hands pinching into your sides, releasing to gently rub up and down the fabric of your shirt that is keeping parts of your skin away from him. You await, a soft smile indenting. One of his hands makes its way to your jawline, cradling, thumbing along the bone to help beckon you into his kiss.

Upon parting, lips grazing, stringing together - he lets you know. “So much crap has always been confusing, but you… You’re not.”

Your brows push together, throat constricting around a vice grip. Implications are fragrant, clear. No more exchanges as Steve’s hand finds your neck’s nape and brings you to his forehead, your leverage given to sink down in his lap. He frowns into his drawn out moan, relaxing into your shape. You curse at the stretch, hands seeking his shoulders out, digging into the blades.

You move, taking him with you. Your pace beginning slow, climbing to a quickening desperation, a burrowing trying work you over from the inside out. Throwing your face into his neck, it has you biting, marking. Steve’s breathing becomes choppy in just several minutes, his knees jerking rapidly, you controlling the rhythm, using him, being with him. He’s a sweaty, disheveled mess - hair askew from your languid pullings, shirt still wound up, and jeans soaked from the both of you.

There’s a sound that throttles his diaphragm, comes out tenfold. His massive palm slapping around to your tailbone, before it dives up the back of your shirt, fingertips dancing, shaping letters along your flesh, ending right beneath your bra band. He nuzzles your throat, leaves a kiss. “Yeah? It’s okay if I…?”

God… you can’t take it anymore. This man drives you past outer-limits.

You consent, and your bra straps are sliding from beneath your sleeves, falling over your arms, and discarded behind somewhere. Steve immediately brings your naked chest to his, breasts squished, stimulated by his fluffy, chestnut embankment. Hands find another set, fingers interlocking, and you rock so hard that his car begins to vibrate. Seconds, hours - who knows? Steve is pitiful in his warning.

“I’m gonna — Can I cum?”

You share a cheshire set of twin grins. Your mouths meet, arms raising to hold his against your hips, just… feeling your movements. You’re nodding, nipping at the stubble underneath his jawline. He swells instantly, his grip so tight on you that you can’t help but to pick your pace up to help him ride out his high.

“Good boy, baby. Feels so right, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s jaw unhinges, throat muscles tightening, legs raising until his knees hit the backs of your thighs, and everything rings static in his ears as the knot unravels at his navel, catching all on the way down to where you’re joined. He’s pulsing inside, a wide whine stretching past his lungs, slipping off his tongue. You lick at it, slowing your pace as not to overstimulate. His heart is racing, damp chest taking purchase across your own, making you rest your forehead against him. It’s a few moments that it takes you, and - reluctantly - you start to rise off, hand shifting between your thighs to press into your clit, mumbling how you wished you brought a toy to plug his essence inside.

There’s a panicked look that overtakes his perspired form, and he’s automatically keeping you in place, making you reach for his shoulder, tightening around his sensitive cock. “Steve…”

“Just… wait! Leave it inside?”

Fuck. This man…

“You sure you can handle it? I don’t mind.”

A reserved fondness, he unlocks a hand that still remains held with your own, half his fingers on your neck, the other on your face to hold. His eyes dart back and forth, a sparkling mirth making your heart dip to rise. You get it.

“I want you to finish with me still here.” He’s let go of your other hand to urge your hand aside and spread you apart with his own thumb, admiring the shine of mixed wants.

And those words… Fuck, they’re on the tip of your tongue. You’re not sure how much longer you’re going to be able to hold them back for.

[sashi-ya]

a valentine's mini story 𝑻𝑹𝑼𝑻𝑯 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑼𝑴 trafalgar law x f! reader

🩰 tw: a soft sfw story. spoilers from the last anime episode (not manga). happy valentine's day! 💕 🦢 wc: 923

“I LOVE YOU; I LOVE YOU; I LOVE YOU (NAME)-YA!” “ME???”

If there is something Law has passed are different types of “illnesses”; from amber lead to being feminized against his will. Now, as if that wasn’t enough, the truth serum had been injected into his body and his lips couldn’t get sealed any longer.

Your kneels hit the ground, with widen orbs and opened mouth.

“What- what did you gave him?!” you scream, kicking and trying to be let go. Just two people have fooled you two, and now you are taken hostage by a guy of who knows how many meters tall.

The era of piracy is so full of this random -and annoying- devil fruit users that sometimes it can take you by surprise. Today, was the day a couple of unknown pirates decided to mess with you two.

“Oh, just the Truth Serum. Isn’t it amazing? This fruit came to me like a gift of the Gods!” a lady, quite peculiar, laughs loudly at her victim. Who could have said someone that powerful like Trafalgar Law could be defeated so easily?

Her filthy hand grazes Law’s forehead. He is drenched in sweat, also kneeling down. He is desperate to help you, but her unstoppable tongue can’t stop saying how much he loves you.

And that, to you -but probably not for the rest of the crew if they were there - is surprising.

“He seems to love you, mh? Such good timing for Valentines! Well, then, in order to spare her life, he will cooperate… right? You have those Poneglyph right?” that villainess says, slapping Law’s cheek.

Law feels miserable and absolutely embarrassed; not even his strong Haki can undo the spell of such stupid fruit ability. Or maybe it is also relieving to finally confess to you?  

“Law, don’t- don’t worry- I’ll be fine! Don’t give her shit!” you scream, looking away. You, who are also deeply in love with him but never confessed, can’t look him in the eyes.

“No, I won’t let them touch you any longer. You are mine! I won’t let them hurt you!” he shouts, desperate. Never -and probably ever again- you will hear those words being screamed into the world like the public statement of pure romance.

You dare to cross sights with him, even if in pain as that brute is holding you like a kitten by your shirt collar up in the air. Your gazes are so intense, the world around seems to disappear for a moment. Why it has to be in this situation?

“Law! I am in l-!”

You take a big gasp of air, and when your tongue begins moving, ready to give him your own confession… something happens.

“HAYAAAAAAH!!!”

A big ball of white fur covered in bright orange suit appears to save the day; a strong kick to the back of that villain sends her flying away. Law has enough time to break himself the spell, as well as using a little rock to exchange your body for it.

It doesn’t take much more for Penguin and Shachi to give Law his beloved Kikkoku; a blade he uses to slash -but not hurt- both attackers. They both ask themselves why their heads are floating around detached from their necks, but that’s just a little taste of what it means to mess with a man like him.

Soon enough, and to your amusement, his arm surrounds your waist and quickly he runs away from “the scene”.

A coward? Not really. There was something Law needed to do, now that the truth has seen the light.

“L-Law? Are- are you ok? Stop. Stop!” you demand, asking for him to put you on your feet.

He tries to find the farthest spot; the secluded place possible. It’s enough with you listening to his “pathetic” confession -and the rest of the island too.-

When he finally puts you down, his inked hands run through all of your body. He needs to make sure you are fine. You are, indeed, more than fine… you have just realized he loves you as much as you love him.

“Scan!” he takes Kikkoku to asses your body in depth, but your hand intercepts him from doing so.

“Stop…” you sigh. Again, and as always, he is searching for every single way to avoid speaking about his feelings. “Law… it’s ok, I- I do feel the same…” you murmur, softly pushing the hilt of his katana down.

Law takes a deep breath. He can’t run away. Or he can?

The surgeon ponders the possibility of escaping from there. But wasn’t for his own body acting on behalf of his love, he might have probably done it. Luckily, his hand reaches your cheek, and his feet walk towards you.

“I love you too, Law” you repeat, looking down but still enjoying the delicate touch of his hand. A touch that migrates from cheek to your chin, lifting your head up to encounter your lips with his.

“I didn’t plan for this to go this way, (Name)-ya. I had flowers prepared for tonight… I really planned on confessing tonight; it’s just that my plans always get ruined”

“My sweat Law, when will they let you plan in peace? Did the kiss part came into the original plan?” you ask, coming even closer to his lips.  

“No… I- I actually didn’t think you could-“

“My bad, it seems I am also going to ruin your plans this time. Now please, kiss me and never let me go”

[azen13]

Hello

might I request the grass ring for purchase?

A Promise To Keep

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Grass Ring: A small, shoddily-woven ring made from dead grass, containing echoes of childhood promises uttered in a land of frost. Maybe the ring’s maker, after disappearing from the world for three months before returning, acted on those vows.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CW: Yandere Themes, Kidnapping, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Implied Murder, Blood

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Snezhnayan summers are always brief and fleeting. For only a few weeks a year, gray skies part like curtains to let the smiling sun gaze over every mile of the land of frost. Withered fields of grass sway with new vigor, trees awaken from their winter slumber, and flowers bloom in all sorts of stunning shades and hues. It’s also one of the few respites you have from aiding your father and siblings in tending to the house. With the icy waters bordering Morepesok rapidly thawing, the ship your mother sails has finally docked; with her return comes both the occasional small sack of Mora sneakily smuggled from her pocket to yours, as well as a gentle push to go and enjoy the fair weather while it lasts.

With windmilling limbs, you scramble out the front door into the bustling streets of town, and head off to your favorite place. It’s a little past where the dirt path ends: over a fallen tree, down a ravine, back up the other side, and just to the right of the raspberry bushes. Making your way through the last few trees, you find yourself in a quaint clearing. For a moment, you think the world is frozen in amber–both from the tranquility you feel, and how everything from the tallest tree to the smallest fern is bathed in a gilded glow.

“Hi there!”

A squeaky voice shatters the illusion of permanence and manages to make you stumble backwards until you slam into a sturdy spruce tree trunk. Looking into the tall grass, you manage to spot a single sapphire blue eye, then another. With a rustle, a flame of ginger hair and a grin that could span the whole of Teyvat pops out from the brush, framed by a speckling of freckles. “Who are you? What are you doing here? My name’s Ajax, what’s yours?” The boy practically pelts you with a myriad of questions, eyes sparkling with interest.

You mumble your name in response, eyes falling down in fear and disappointment. You had hoped to enjoy some time soaking in the solitude of this little slice of paradise, but the journey seems to have been all for naught. 

You quickly learn the entire life story of Ajax, who follows you home after you tell him you had gotten lost in the woods. He lives in Morepesok with his large family, he likes adventuring, and he likes fishing with his father. Also, he likes you, evidenced by the fact that he won’t leave you alone.

Tailing from behind, still rambling incoherently about all sorts of things, Ajax doesn’t seem to take the obvious hints that you want to be left alone. “...and the fish we caught was THIS big! A-and me and my dad brought it home, and my little sis–I told you about Tonia, right? She’s my younger sister, she’s about this tall and she really likes…” His mouth is a never-ending river of words that only ceases when you slam the door to your home shut.

Hopefully you can go tomorrow and enjoy the warm summer sun before the chill of winter returns once more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He’s there when you come tomorrow again. And the next day. And the day after that, until eventually, summer’s brief stint has faded away, only to return in a year. At least, you think, you won’t have to ever see Ajax until.

How wrong you are.

It seems the boy is practically camped outside of your house, watching your every move. If you’re carrying groceries, he’s quick to sidle next to you and take them into his own hands. He must think he’s being chivalrous, but you disagree. You try to fight the constant barrage, but find yourself crumbling under it after a while. You start answering his questions, asking some of your own, even. He’s not horrible, just a little overeager.

Soon, you’re happy to call Ajax a friend.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The promise is made on a brisk fall evening, snow and leaves blanketing the ground like a patchwork quilt of white and orange. The two of you sit in a small clearing surrounded by tall grass; you’re reading a book while Ajax breaks blades of grass and fiddles with them in his hands.

“We should get married.”

You frown and close your book. “Why?

“Why not?”

“Because we’re thirteen, your dad doesn’t like me, and my parents think you’re a weirdo,” you say.

Ajax huffs and crosses his arms. He’s pouting, but you can tell it’s just to cover his amusement. You’d both gotten good at that–reading each other like books, able to point out your favorite chapters and lines. “Well we could do it in secret. Or even do it when we’re older,” he says. An epiphanic look flashes on his face, and he snatches a few more blades of grass. Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, you watch as he weaves and contorts the grass until they form a small ring. 

With eyes full of starlight, he presents the ring to you. “C’mon, please? Just promise me.”

You sigh and hold your hand out. “Okay, okay, fine. If you’ll stop being so annoying, sure.” Immediately, he slides the ring on your finger, boyish glee dancing in ocean-blue eyes. “Pinky promise?” He demands, holding his pinky finger out expectantly.

Of course Ajax would ask to pinky swear on it. The boy always kept his promises.

“Fine.” You loop your pinky around his for a moment, before letting go. “Now let me get back to reading.”

Ajax only laughs, though his eyes stay glued on you.

You didn’t realize that this was both the last time you would ever see Ajax again, and the moment your fate in life was sealed.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Days later, you receive the news. Ajax is missing. Supposedly he had gotten lost in the woods. You spent the next few days in a perpetual state of distress, constantly tearing through branches and brambles, desperate to find your friend.

It didn’t take long until he’s found, though not by you. The moment you hear, you race over to his house and knock on the door. Ajax’s dad, however, is the one to greet you. He’s a tall, lanky man with scars that cut through his face and a permanent scowl marring his cracked lips. At the sight of you standing outside his door, his ire only deepens. “Ajax isn’t here. He’s with the Fatui.” 

With that, he swings the door shut and lets it slam only inches from your face.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Time moves on,  and you let your life take its course. You take up a job planning shipping routes for merchants, and find yourself falling in half-hearted love with a sailor. 

He’s a good man. But he is not the man you love.

Soon enough, encouraged by family and friends, a ring is slid on your finger. It’s a simple band of silver, yet it feels like a chain around your heart.

You accept your life for what it is. That is, until one morning, you wake up to still air beside you instead of a warm body. Unknowing of what has actually happened, you get up quietly and begin getting ready for the day. 

After putting on some clothes, you go to the small foyer of your little home, ready to go down to the docks and start working. But when you swing open the door, dull blue eyes as deep as the sea meet yours, a monstrous grin splitting a stranger’s face open. “Aw, it’s been so long! It’s so good to see you.” The man walks past you into your home as though he’s lived there his whole life. As he walks, you notice he’s trailing something in behind you.

Blood. It’s blood. When he turns back to face you, you notice droplets of blood speckled on his cheeks like freckles. He’s still smiling.

“Get out of my house,” you say.

“Or what?”

You hesitate. It’s not like Morepesok has an official police, or even anything close to a militia. “Or I’ll scream.”

The stranger’s smile melts away like snow under the sun, and he steps closer to you. “Don’t you remember who I am?” He asks. 

At the sight of you shaking your head, and you taking another step away from him, the stranger tsks and stalks forwards. A hand moves forward, so fast all you can see is a blur of motion before it captures your jaw, claims it. Its fingers force your face forwards, straight into those storming eyes. “What a shame,” the man sighs, his other hand slinking behind your back. “We made a promise, darling.”

His words shoot like icicles into your heart, rendering you speechless for a moment. “A-Ajax?” You murmur, body beginning to fall limp. The only thing holding you upright are his hands, firm against your skin.

Ajax smiles, but it isn’t a sweet smile of summer innocence. His smile is jagged and icy, full of frost. “It’s me,” he confirms. You can vaguely see mirth swimming in his eyes, as though he thinks you’re so shocked to see him, so elated to know he’s still here. But in truth, you’re terrified. After all, it’s not exactly a challenge to make the connection between the blood on Ajax’s cheek and your missing husband.

“Did…did you?”

“Come on, darling,” Ajax responds, sweeping you off your feet into a bridal carry. “We made a promise, didn’t we? And you know how the saying goes.” The man chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We made a promise. And you broke it.” For a moment, you feel fear unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. “But don’t worry. I know that you didn’t want to marry him. You were waiting all those years for me, weren’t you?” He presses another kiss to your head, holding you closer.

You try to speak, but Ajax shushes you. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you what real love looks like.” With a steady gait, he begins walking outside, looping around your home to where a carriage is waiting. Gently, he brings you inside and deposits you on a bench. His eyes are full of hunger.

“That’s a promise.”

[rxzennia]

selfish atonement

– requested. 

✎𓂃 executing your duty perfectly, until it’s not so heavy anymore. less romance, a lot of lore. mandatory shoutout to @st4rrth0ughts and their bodyguard reader & oc. i really searched up oswaldo for this pls enjoy (i tried to cook but i might’ve burnt it y'all)

ever since oswaldo’s expedition on aeragan-epharshel, you’ve become certain of one thing – he is a brilliant businessman; the epitome of a profitable business. regardless of the mostly negative emotions you felt while you undertook missions under his orders, you could at least admit that he brought unparalleled results to the ipc. 

but, well, it does not take a good man to make a good businessman.

this marks the third amber era after your departure from the marketing development department… no, your departure from the ipc as a whole. you’ve changed your name, got yourself a new appearance, and distanced yourself from oswaldo’s name.

you’ve since become a sellsword who answers only to your current client

you’ve chosen to not have your loyalty freely auctioned off to the wealthy precisely because of your history with oswaldo

aka, you’re done with the type of problems that can be solved with money, and you don’t want to be someone that can be easily bought with money, either

not in the sense that money won’t make you more likely to take a job, but in the sense that money won’t bribe you away from any ongoing duties

that’s enough about you and your standards

in any case, your history with the ipc (that you’ve manipulated a little) has been very helpful in landing you jobs

and at this point, you’ve got a nice word of mouth going on for you that you don’t need to bring up that history anymore

who would’ve thought that you’d end up in the ipc again?

this time as a temporary guard for one of the ten stonehearts

you don’t know what possessed someone like diamond to ask for you, because you’re pretty sure he knows about your previous involvement with the ipc

and also, what the fuck does the ten stonehearts need a bodyguard for?

you’d pay a million credits to bet that diamond just wanted someone to be surveillance

but hey, a client is a client, so you agree to meet the one you’re supposedly “protecting”

you walk into the room, and immediately you want to walk out. diamond is doing this on purpose, he’s gotta be, he’s got to have done a background check on you and still decided to choose violence.

you come face to face with aventurine, and you thank all the aeons out there that you’ve made the decision to wear a mask whenever you’re out. you don’t know if diamond had briefed him on you or not, but judging by how warily civil he is, it doesn’t seem so. 

just so we’re clear, you were far too green to be directly involved when oswaldo launched his sigonia-iv project. while you did tag along on these trips and treaty signings, you have no personal involvement there except standing there like a statue and watching your superiors hammer out a treaty or something. unlike in aeragan-epharshel. where you were one of the combat pilots. oh, that’s another can of worms altogether.

at least he can’t see your expression right now as you shake hands

at least he doesn't hear your erratically beating heart

you introduce yourselves, and you bow out of habit

impression points +100 (your starting score is -10000)

that’s basically how you ended up involved with the ipc again

ugh, you just can’t leave them in the past, can you?

although, in your defense, they’re everywhere, and you can’t possibly turn down a job with such luxurious pay

so, now, instead of the marketing development department, you’re in the strategic investment department. diamond is also a good businessman, but… the ten stonehearts have such a weird dynamic. they’re all tangled together with office politics, yet share one authority figure that they ultimately obey – something you haven’t bothered to think about when you were last in the ipc. and something you won’t bother thinking about, because the mere thought of corporate makes you want to dig yourself into a hole.

in any case, your constant meddling in aventurine’s daily affairs begins today. he’s quite a guarded man, and you have no idea what diamond wants you to do by putting you next to him practically 24/7, but oh well, you’re getting paid.

you settle into a routine surprisingly quickly, and he doesn’t seem to mind your presence all that much

alarmed? yes. mildly annoyed that diamond put a walking tracker on him? also yes. 

dislike your presence? kinda (not really). 

at least he knows you won’t betray him for as long as your contract is in effect

even if you answer directly to diamond, you were tasked to watch over him

which means that you will execute your assigned duty to guard him and strictly only that duty

(truly, your reputation precedes you)

but what is worrying is how swiftly you can change sides the moment your contract expires

well, a problem for tomorrow. diamond’s got you leashed for a year.

he does run a background check on you himself

not that he doesn’t trust that diamond hadn’t vetted you, he just wants to know what sort of person he is now stuck with

guess who found out your name is probably fake but can’t find your real name

because he could only trace your name so far, and anything beyond that point is blank

the discoveries will shock you!! top 10 most scary facts you didn’t know 

all he got was a full report from your first job to this one

anything about your past before your current alias is completely untraceable

not that he intends to ask anyway; you haven’t given him any reason to dig further (yet)

he keeps an eye out for you though

even if he’s not suspicious of you at the moment, that could change in the blink of an eye

aventurine is surprised at how loyal you are to him. you’re under diamond’s orders, but you’re surprisingly putting in a lot to protect him. and to look after him.

to you, it’s just your job… and a selfish, twisted sort of repentance. it’s a thought you intend to take with you to the grave.

you’re not obligated to wake him up or bring him breakfast, but you do anyway

which, he realizes that you must’ve woken up like at least two hours before him

you coordinate his schedule with his assistant so that he doesn’t make pointless trips to five different locations just to end up at the same one twice

you, quite literally, hover over him

yes, even at huge conferences, you’re tailing him like his shadow

some kinda scary dog privilege going on

but of course, you give him space whenever he requires it and keep him within your sights instead

so far so good

but you know what spooks him still? 

that you get pissed when someone makes any nasty passing remark at him

no, you are not a feral street cat that scratches anyone who wrongs you (him)

what you do is you give them a scary confrontation

or you pick them out and lodge a complaint with their superiors afterwards, if they aren’t the top dog

one time he got his hands on a report that you’re writing

aeons, you blow it out of proportion without lying 

you like to call it a suitable amount of embellishing 

then you pull a lot of emotional appealing according to the opponents' company policy

which usually results in some sort of disciplinary action that is actually pretty satisfying to see

but also

damn, you’re merciless 

and also very adept at business talk

trust +100, doubt +25

(shady mercenary for hire with far too much experience type doubt)

you’re as good of a bodyguard as aventurine can get, especially for someone he didn’t hire himself… 

he quite likes you, actually! because how many people do you think asked him something like “why do you need a bodyguard” to his face? none! you’re as entertaining as they come. 

and so he finds joy in his boring executive work by pestering you

you know that, but you put up with him

in fact, this guy is so one of a kind that you don’t even feel pestered

you sometimes even drink with him

whenever he offers, of course, because you’re not too interested in drinking

you drink moderately on the job, but c’mon, when are you not on the job

okay, maybe when he’s just chilling in his office or in the hotel and not going anywhere

then there’s competitive drinking where he tries to coax you into talking about yourself by making you down shots

and guess who’s wasted every time? not you

“mr aventurine?” you ask, nudging the unconscious man next to you. “sir? earth to mr aventurine? hello?”

his empty glass of whiskey on the table, his face slightly flushed as he snoozes away on the table… yeah, it does not look comfy at all.

you sigh, he’s giving you more work again, and you carefully hoist him from the table. 

when he comes to again, he finds himself in his own room

his head hurts so much

he notices that he hasn’t changed from his usual attire – only his coat and accessories are taken off

okay, and the top button of his shirt is undone

did you bring him back? 

as always, you don’t even bother to change him

he sighs, you’re really not very good at reading signs

because he’s done this multiple times! and he’s whined about not being changed after!

more like you did notice but you choose not to do what he wants

that’s crossing a line in your books

and your books is something you stick to like you’re obsessed

at least you left him water and hangover medicine on the nightstand

why does he feel like you’re deliberately keeping him at arm’s length?

it’s been a while and you two have spent so much time together, yet you’re still a stranger to him

not even acquaintances 

like… like, you don’t initiate conversation when you’re watching him

both when he’s going somewhere (requires actual protecting) and chilling at home (does not require actual protecting)

and even after so many late night drinking sessions, he still hasn’t seen you without your mask

mainly because you’ve never been drunk enough for him to sneak a peek, but still

aventurine doesn’t know how to express affection. platonically, romantically, in general, pretty much. so he tries to do the one thing he does best, splurging. and he tries to splurge on you, because he’s intrigued and wants to make buy a friend, but…

but you don’t let him splurge on you! you don’t even let him give you gifts! he only knows how to win affection by spending money on others! 

sometimes he feels like you stick too strictly to your duties

just like his other subordinates… you take orders far too well

he’s tried to give you trinkets, designer clothes, even limited snacks

all of which were returned to him within 24 hours

though, with the snacks, you take it if he offers you a piece or two when he’s already opened it

and you let him treat you to coffee occasionally. very occasionally.

he eventually figures out that it’s a matter of principles

but what principles, exactly? you’re a sellsword, for aeon’s sake

he thought those are the people who have absolutely no principles???

anyway, won’t stop him from trying

“mr aventurine…” you pinch the bridge of your nose as you see the bags stacked on your desk. “i remember telling you that souvenirs are unnecessary.”

“what’s wrong with them?” aventurine laments dramatically. “i’ve picked out only the finest for you!”

you don’t deserve it, you think, but you don’t say that, of course

you don’t even know of his lifelong grudge towards oswaldo

you just know that you had a hand in the extinction event

not like hand hand, but you watched it happen… it doesn’t sit well with you

besides, you have the blood of almost an entire civilization on your hands

if you think too hard about it, the image of flames and carnage overlap with what is in front of you

then, you envision the records of sigonia that you’ve read through in the past

and everything blurs together, your actions, your inaction, and your unwavering loyalty that led you to not raise a single question at all

you squeeze your eyes shut tightly and purge the images from your mind

you are currently here, in the present

“i can’t take them.” you reply, finally, shaking your head. “it’s inappropriate for our standing. especially since there’s no reason for you to be gifting me so many things out of nowhere.”

“what, i can’t be nice to my bodyguard?” aventurine pouts as he sorts the bags in height order. “i’ve got a limited edition tie, an antique phonograph, a discontinued mug, some rare natural color ink for your fountain pen, a pure cashmere sweater–”

“that’s… that’s enough, sir.” you raise a hand to cut him off. “i don’t think i can accept any of them, really.”

aventurine makes a face, then pulls out a bag from the end of the queue. “fine, fine. what about this, at least? assorted cookies from an artisan bakery, using only the best ingredients sourced from all over the cosmos?”

you stare at that bag as you feel the expectant stare from your boss

maybe… maybe one out of these dozens of bags is fine

you’ve gotta think about his feelings too, after you’ve rejected so many gifts

you reluctantly, carefully take the bag and say a small “thank you”

you don’t want his fascination with you to develop any more than what he’s already showing…

but you also know that it’s not up to you

so what is up to you is drawing a line that you won’t allow him to cross

for his sake, and for your own… 

if he keeps pushing, you should keep pushing back

keyword should

but can you?

aeons, you truly are selfish

wouldn’t it have been better to keep everything professional from the very beginning?

it’s okay. you only have a little more than half a year to go before you’re no longer obligated to be here. you’ll run away before aventurine catches on, like how you ran away from your past.

it’s okay. it’s just been a few months, there’s still more than half a year’s worth of time. before you part ways, there are still chances to get to know you better. perhaps even time to become friends, in the most literal sense of the word.

and maybe by the end of it, “you” will reach a satisfactory conclusion.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE TALK(S)

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ You get some insight from some friends. And not friends. It's you. Despite everything, it's been you. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none wc: 3.5k

New York welcomes Spinnerette back with open arms.

Several articles span over night, questioning the disappearance and sudden return. They’ll have to keep questioning, because there will be no official statement from you. You’re Spinnerette, not Tony Stark, aka Iron Man.

One of the first things you do is go pick up your order at Delmar’s. It’s been far too long since you’ve tasted heaven.

Pepper comes up with a simple cover story as to why [Name] [L.Name] was gone from public eye. It’s elegant in its simplicity: during the time [Name] [L.Name] was absent from the public eye, they were undertaking an extended philanthropic research expedition abroad, focusing on humanitarian efforts and technological research in developing countries  in order to prepare for when they eventually take over as CEO to Stark Industries.

Delmar doesn’t ask too many questions, anyway. He only says how he’s glad you’re back and gives you your order.

You happily munch on it as you watch New York’s sunset. The view from Avengers Tower is always nice. It casts a warm, golden glow over the skyline, a picturesque reminder of why you love this city so much. The gentle breeze carries the distant sounds of traffic.

“Why are you having these thoughts?”

Wanda’s voice is soft but perceptive, her presence a comforting familiarity. She moves gracefully, even in her casual pajamas, and joins you by the edge, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“What thoughts?” you ask, knowing it’s futile. You can try and pretend all you want, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Even without Wanda’s powers, she could’ve easily figured you out.

Wanda turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “You know exactly what thoughts,” she says gently.

You sigh, taking another bite of your sandwich, buying yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. The flavors are as delightful as you remembered, but they do little to distract from the weight of Wanda’s words.

The sky turns darker, with the sun sinking lower, casting long shadows across the city. Wanda waits patiently, her gaze never leaving you. The silence stretches, comfortable and familiar, but charged with unspoken words.

"I missed this place," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I missed the people, the energy... but…" you hesitate, unsure if you want to voice the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Wanda reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's okay to feel conflicted," she says softly. "You’ve been through much. It's natural to question things."

You nod slowly, absorbing Wanda's words. The city below seems to hum with a life of its own, oblivious to the inner turmoil tugging at your thoughts. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"I guess I just didn't expect everything to feel so... different," you admit quietly, gazing out at the skyline. "I thought coming back would be like slipping into an old pair of shoes, but it's more like trying to break in new ones. I got so used to life over there.”

Wanda nods, humming. Her expression softens, voice gentle. “Jon. And Damian,” she echoes softly. “They’ve been on your mind since you came back.” You nod slowly, acknowledging Wanda's insight. Her ability to grasp the complexities of your thoughts is both comforting and unnerving at times.

"Yeah," you admit, a faint smile touching your lips. "They have." You pause, considering how much to share. "It's like... being torn between two worlds," you continue, your gaze drifting back to the skyline where the last vestiges of daylight paint the buildings in shades of amber. "I've grown close to them in ways I didn't anticipate. Jon's warmth and openness, Damian's... well, his complexities," you chuckle softly.

Wanda listens intently, her presence a calming presence amidst the bustling cityscape. "It sounds like they've left quite an impression," she remarks softly, eyeing your bracelet.

"They have," you affirm, a hint of wistfulness in your tone. "And now, being back here, it's like I'm standing at a crossroads, unsure where to go."

Wanda's eyes are filled with empathy. "Sometimes, the heart knows things before the mind can make sense of them.”

You look at her. "I remember when Vision and I were navigating similar feelings," Wanda begins softly, her voice carrying a nostalgic undertone. "He was... different, not just because of what he was, but because of how he made me feel." Her gaze drifts to the skyline, memories playing across her features like shadows dancing in the fading light.

"It was challenging, trying to reconcile our differences and the worlds we came from," she continues, her tone thoughtful. "But in the end, what mattered most was the connection we shared, the understanding that despite everything, we chose each other."

Her words resonate with you, echoing your own internal struggles. "Did it ever get easier?" you ask quietly, seeking reassurance in her experience.

Wanda smiles softly, expression tinged with fondness. "Not easier, but... clearer," she replies, her gaze returning to meet yours. "Love has a way of guiding us through uncertainty, showing us what truly matters." You don’t know about love exactly, but maybe…

"It's like they've opened doors I didn't even know were there," you confess, a sense of revelation settling over you. "And now, I'm standing here, wondering which ones I should go through.”

Wanda nods understandingly, a soothing presence in the midst of your introspection. "The paths we choose often define us," she muses softly. "But sometimes, it's not about choosing one thing over another, but finding a way to integrate both into who you are."

“What would we do without you, Wanda?” you say in lieu of thanks.

She returns your smile warmly. "Anytime."

With a final glance at the city below, you finish your sandwich, savoring the flavors that remind you of home. Whatever lies ahead, you know you'll face it head on.

You find Tony tinkering away in his lab (because where else would he be?) He looks up as you enter, a small grin spreading across his face. “Pass me that wrench, will you?” You pass Tony the wrench, settling into a comfortable silence as he continues his work. The hum of machinery and occasional sparks fill the air, a familiar backdrop to your thoughts.

Tony mumbles lightly, adjusting a few components on his latest project. "Pepper told me about the cover story," he mentions casually. "Philanthropic research expedition, huh? Not bad."

You chuckle softly. "Pepper has a knack for making things sound believable," you comment, recalling how she effortlessly crafted the narrative to explain your absence.

Tony grins mischievously. "She's got a way with words," he agrees, his gaze flicking back to his work. "So, how was it, really? Did you make friends with Superman?”

“No, I made friends with his son,” you jest.

“Well, of course you did,” he nods seriously. “You have a certain effect on people.”

You place your arms on his desk, leaning. “You know, you were my dad there.”

Tony looks up, eyes boring into yours. For a moment it’s silent. “Made up an identity for myself. Had to, of course. Listed you as my rich dad who was on vacation and had left little ole me all by myself.”

"Ah, playing the absent but wealthy father role, I see. I hope I lived up to your expectations as the neglectful billionaire." He leans back, crossing his arms with mock seriousness. “Though a vacation does sound nice.”

You grin. "They bought it though, surprisingly enough. I think they were more curious about figuring out if I’m Spinnerette or not than my supposed absent father." You lean back. “They did, by the way. But it all worked out.”

Tony chuckles, a hint of pride in his expression. "Well, that's my kid—always keeping them guessing."

“You’ll also be pleased to know that I did a "Tony Stark" while I was there,” you grin, coming up next to him.

“That’s not good.”

“I remade your new element.”

Tony raises a brow, but doesn’t look all that surprised. “You’re becoming just like me. Pepper won’t like that.”

“I was gonna use it to power my way home, put it in my watch somehow, but I didn’t get to use it,” you shrug. “Figure it’ll help their world, anyhow. The blueprints you left in the suit really helped.”

“Gotta take care of my own,” he shrugs.

You smile, the warmth of familiarity easing the lingering tensions from earlier introspection. "You did," you reply sincerely, a fondness in your voice. "It was... comforting, having you there in spirit."

As you watch Tony continue his tinkering, a thought tugs at your mind. You take a deep breath  "Tony, can I ask you something?" you venture, breaking the silence.

"Shoot," he replies, not looking up from his work but clearly attentive.

"How do you know when you're ready to make a decision that could change everything?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty.

Tony looks up from his workbench, his expression thoughtful. He sets down his tools and turns to face you fully, his gaze assessing yet warm.

"You're asking the big questions, aren't you?" Tony remarks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Decision-making is a blend of gut instinct, logic, and experience. You weigh the risks, consider the consequences, but ultimately, it comes down to what feels right deep down."

You nod, absorbing his words. "But what if both paths feel right in different ways?" you press further, needing clarity on the conflict within you.

“Why should it be two paths? It could be just one.”

Oh. Hm. Guess so.

“Sometimes life’s about finding a way to blend them together, creating a new path that's uniquely yours."

You ponder his words, the gears in your mind turning as you consider the implications. "So, instead of choosing between them, I should look for how they complement each other?" you venture, seeking to clarify your thoughts.

Tony nods approvingly. "Exactly. Integration rather than separation. You're a smart cookie, kid," he says with a wink. “Trust yourself and go for it, [Name].”

His words echo Wanda's earlier sentiments, reinforcing the idea that perhaps the answers you seek lie within your own intuition. You smile gratefully at Tony, feeling a bit of the weight lift off your shoulders. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Anytime, kid.”

The two of you fall into a companionable silence, the hum of machinery and occasional banter filling the air. As Tony returns to his tinkering and you reflect on your journey, a sense of belonging washes over you, grounding you in the familiar embrace of family, wherever they may be.

Later, you leave Tony’s lab, a sense of clarity guiding your steps as you navigate through the halls of Avengers Tower. Thoughts of Jon and Damian linger in your mind, their presence like gentle echoes urging you forward.

You find yourself drawn to the training room, a sanctuary of sorts where you’ve honed your skills and found solace in the rhythm of combat. The familiar scent of sweat and metal greets you as you enter, the training mats beckoning invitingly under the soft glow of overhead lights.

You start with basic stretches, letting muscle memory guide your movements as you flow through familiar routines. Each stretch and strike brings a sense of  familiarity, a reminder of the strength and determination that brought you here.

As you spar with imaginary opponents, the echoes of Wanda’s words linger in your mind. Love, uncertainty, and the paths that lie ahead—all intertwined in a tapestry of choices and possibilities. In the midst of your training, Jon’s warmth and Damian’s complexities come into sharper focus. Their presence in your life has been unexpected yet undeniable, each offering a different perspective and a unique connection that resonates deeply within you.

You spar with renewed vigor, channeling your thoughts and emotions into each movement. The clang of fists against pads and the sound of your own breath become a cadence, a rhythmic heartbeat of determination and contemplation. Hours pass unnoticed, lost in the flow of training and introspection. By the time you finish, exhaustion mingles with a sense of satisfaction.

A week passes. You find yourself hanging out in one of the numerous lounges at Spider-HQ. You and Hobie wrangled some consoles, bean bags, fairy lights and other cozy things in (in spite of Miguel's exasperations) and dubbed this specific one yours. It's a place where you can unwind and escape the responsibilities that come with being the Spider.

Gwen, Hobie and Pav have taken to playing a ferocious game of Mario Kart. You and all your kindness have decided to help Miles with his Spanish homework. Miles listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with questions or sharing anecdotes about his latest escapades.

You sit down next to Miles, flipping open the textbook with a grin. "Alright, buckle up Miles.. ¿Listo? you ask cheerfully, ready to dive into the conjugations and vocabulary with him.

Miles chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, thanks for helping out with this. Spanish isn't my strongest subject."

You tsk. “Shameful.” He shoves you playfully in retaliation. As you guide Miles through the homework, laughter and banter fill the air, mingling with the sounds of Mario Kart battles and friendly debates over strategy. It's a relaxed atmosphere, a welcome break from the weightier decisions and reflections of the past week.

You sigh eventually, leaning your face into your hand. “How do you do it, Miles?”

“I don’t,” he scoffs, thinking you're referring to the Spanish. “That’s why you’re here.”

You snort, sliding away his assignment. “I mean, how is it so easy for you to just… be you?”

Miles looks at you quizzically, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Being me? It's not always easy, you know," he replies with a hint of sincerity beneath his playful tone. "But I guess I just try to focus on what matters to me, you know? Like family, friends, and doing what's right."

You nod thoughtfully, considering his words. "Yeah, I get that," you say, a small smile forming. "It's about staying true to yourself, even when things get complicated."

"Exactly!" Miles exclaims, his enthusiasm infectious. "You've got to figure out what works for you and roll with it. I mean, look at you—you've got this whole dual life thing down don’t you?”

You chuckle softly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone. "Maybe not always as smoothly as I'd like."

"But you're doing it," Miles insists, his gaze earnest. "And that's what counts. You're making it work. Just, do your own thing,” he trails off, looking at Gwen. It’s no secret that there is something going on between them.

Well, if that is testament enough, then what is?

“...There’s a first time for everything.”

Later, as the night winds down and your friends begin to disperse, you linger in the lounge for a moment of quiet contemplation. With a final glance around the room, you rise to your feet.

There is one more person you’d like to talk to.

This New York isn’t so different from your own. It looks the same, sounds the same, and feels the same. You even spot a Delmar's while you swing around. The nighttime lights blur into streaks as you move. The rhythm of your movements, the thwip of your webs, and the distant sounds of the city create a symphony of familiarity.

You land gracefully on a rooftop, taking a moment to survey the skyline. There’s an Avengers Tower, standing tall and proud in the distance, a beacon of strength. As you catch your breath, you feel a presence nearby—a silent observer, familiar and comforting.

familiar

“Never thought I’d see you here,” they hum. Coming to a stop beside. The spider symbol on their chest is the same since you last saw it. When they visited you to give you the catalyst back in the other universe.

The Spider that threw you there in the first place.

Strange times, huh?

“I guess you found your way?” they ask, fiddling with their web-shooters.

“I guess I did,” you hum. You gaze at them for a moment, the shared history and intertwined destinies palpable between you.

“So, to what do I owe the visit? Not that I’m not grateful that you’re not body-slamming me on sight, because I am.” That gets a chuckle out of you, and they seem to relax a little.

“I’m not so angry these days,” you explain. “Other things on my mind and all.”

“Fair enough,” they concede, their tone softening. They lean against the ledge beside you, their gaze fixed on the city below. “Seems like you've been through… a lot,” they observe quietly, their voice carrying a hint of understanding.

You nod. Silence settles between you, comfortable yet charged with unspoken questions. You study their profile, noticing the subtle shifts in their demeanor, the echoes of shared experiences between your worlds.

“I’m sorry,” they finally say, their voice tinged with genuine remorse. “For everything that happened back then.”

You turn to them, meeting their gaze with a mix of forgiveness and acceptance. “I know,” you reply softly, acknowledging the weight of their words. “We both made choices, good and bad. It’s... part of who we are.”

“As Spiders?” they question hands reaching up to hook under their mask.

“As Spiders,” you agree, eyes watching as their mask slips up.

It’s you.

Despite everything, it’s been you.

Your double, or perhaps you can call them your alternate counterpart, nods in understanding, their expression mirroring the mix of determination and conflict you feel within yourself.

“I’ll be damned,” you mutter as your own suit gives away to reveal your face.

“I suspected, when we had that talk. The one where you were probably gonna kill me,” they chuckle softly. “You said you were the only [Name], and it could’ve just been a dumb coincidence…”

“Dumb coincidences don’t really happen to us.”

They shake their head. “No, they don’t.”

You lean against the ledge, feeling tired all of a sudden. “So, who is it? Who captures the heart of [Name] [L.Name]? An MJ? Gwen Stacy? Black Cat?” Maybe you secretly like to suffer, and that’s why you ask.

They snort, head hanging. “Not sure who they are, but since you're asking…”

“...there’s these guys,” they grin softly, sheepishly, “named Jon and Damian.”

And your will completely gives away.

“Jon’s real sweet, complete cutie. Ball of sunshine, and really pretty eyes. Damian’s a rich piece of work, but he’s honest and loyal. Also really pretty eyes.”

You look into their eyes, wide and disbelieving. “Are they… so do… Superboy and Robin exist here?”

They look at you confused. “Batman? Superman?” you implore. “Not even.. the comics?”

They purse their lips and shake their head. “They’re just normal guys,” they mutter softly.

Your counterpart's words hang in the air, mingling with the cool breeze that sweeps across the rooftop. You can't help but laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief. "Can’t believe it," you mutter, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m the one who isn’t normal,” they smile dryly. “They didn’t know anything about me until I got back. They were so worried sick, and I realized how much they care about me. What better time to tell them everything?”

“And it was worth telling them?”

“I love them, of course it was,” they shrug, like it’s just that simple. “They see me now, as both [Name] and Spinnerette. I wouldn’t give that for anything.”

You feel a surge of warmth and hope at their words, realizing that perhaps your own path can lead to a similar sense of acceptance and belonging. "It's good to hear that it worked out for you," you say sincerely.

Your counterpart smiles, a glimmer of understanding in their eyes. "It can work out for you too.”

You guess no one would know you better than you.

“Thanks,” is all you say.

“Anytime,” is all they say, nodding at you with a gentle smile before shooting a web swinging away into the night, disappearing amidst the glowing cityscape.

You remain on the rooftop for a while longer, lost in thought. The skyline stretches before you, a tapestry of lights and shadows that mirror the complexities of your own life. The pieces of a puzzle are slowly coming together, guiding you towards a path that feels uniquely yours.

With renewed determination, you take to the skies once more, letting the rhythm of your swings carry you forward. The night air is crisp and alive with possibility, each movement a step towards embracing yourself and your desires.

As you land on the familiar (familiar, but not yours) balcony of Avengers Tower, you take a moment to savor the view. The city stretches out beneath you, a testament to home. You made it back to a place that feels like home, where friendships and connections intertwine to create a tapestry of support and understanding.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. Jon and Damian are waiting for you.

“Trust yourself and go for it, [Name].”

“I’m ready,” you whisper to yourself, a quiet affirmation that echoes in the night.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

You input a location into your Web-watch.

"It can work out for you too.”

You step into the bright amalgamation of light.

notes: does that parallel i mentioned in chap 14 make sense now? lol

[websterss]

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR  — ETHAN LANDRY

SUMMARY: You still have hard time dealing with the aftermath that occured in Amber’s house. You have the scars to prove it. The ever lasting nightmares that never seem to fade. You tried your best to cope with everything, yet you only knew how to do that with your good ole pal named alcohol.

WARNING(S): SPOILERS, alcohol consumption. cussing again. Fluff, Some angst, mentions of murder, blood, slight gore towards the end???

WORD COUNT: 4,838

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

The party was in full swing. The music blaring through the speakers set up in the living room. Classmates and crashers making a typical night club look like amateurs. Everyone was having a blast...including you.

“Badda-da-dah, badda-da-bah-bah. Coming out'cha mouth with'cha blah, blah, blah. Zip your lip like a padlock. And meet me in the back with the Jack at the jukebox. I don't really care where you live at. Just turn around boy, let me hit that.” You make a spanking dance motion. “Don't be a little bitch with your chit chat. Just show me where your di-” You began to sing, more like shout, but Ethan is more than perplexed on how you knew word for word.

“Okay!” Ethan placed his hand over your mouth, you muffled against his palm complaining. “Don’t know how you know all the words, but I think you’ve had enough.” He stares at you like you’ve grown two heads. He takes your red cup, taking a whiff of it, then immediately gagging. “What the hell is in this?” He leaned in closer so you’d be able to hear him. You pout, shrugging your shoulders as you start to groove to the music playing again.

“Something Anika whipped up...” You wave him off, trying to get the drink from his hands. You manage to do just that as you sneak in a sip. “I think she spiked it with vodka...” You slur off in thought. Ethan only gapes at you, taking the red cup back.

He looks around then spots a plant to your right. He reaches forward and chucks the drink on it.

“Hey!” You cry out watching your drink be wasted, and practically on its way to killing that poor plant.

“No more.” He gives a slow but firm shake of his head. “I’m gonna get you some water then I’m taking you back to your dorm.” He reaches forward and rubs your arms, up and down. You refuse to let him do so. Your lips downcast into a frown.

“What? No!” You fight against him, trying to remove his hands off you. “It’s not even twelve yet. The party’s still going...” You gesture to everyone around you. “I wanna stay…” You hiccup.

“I just think it’s better we get you home. You were swaying a bit there earlier.” He begins to convince you. “Besides, you were the one that told me to stop you when you steered off too much.” You meet his concerned eyes with a roll of yours. Of course you told him to watch over you. Yeah you had a habit of going off the rails, but you weren’t even close to blacking out, just slightly teetering towards being full on drunk.

“N-No.” You’re whole mood shifts. Your heart feels heavy, trying to find your friends amongst the bodies that were laughing and dancing. “Ethan, I’m not even tired.” You began to argue. He reaches for your hands again but you cross them over your chest. “I’m not tired. I need this.” You declare. “I’m fine-” You push past him only trip over your own feet. If he hadn’t reacted in time you would have fallen face first. Your breath shudders. Your eyes widening as Ethan's. He steadies you into an upright position again. Holding you by the waist as you sway in a place.

“What was that about being fine again?” He emits a faint laugh, but it falls into an unsettled smile.

“You’re such an ass!” You push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“Thought I was your knight in shining armor two hours ago...or did you already forget that you almost stepped into incoming traffic…” He raises his brows in question.

“You know…” You leaned in to whisper in his face. Ethan blinks rapidly as the smell of vodka fanned his face. He mouths a woah, before he gives you his undivided attention. “You’ve been making it a habit of saving me a lot. It’s odd. We barely met a few months back.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped putting yourself in life threatening situations…maybe I wouldn’t need to save you.”

“I’d hardly call- call getting shit faced. Life threatening!” You threw up quota fingers.

“You nearly just face planted!” He scoffs.

“Pish posh.” You groan. “I need another drink…” You pout as you look around trying to scope out Mindy or Chad to save you from Ethan’s hold.

“No, come on I’ll take you home.”

“No…” You squirm against his grip on your waist. “No, you have to check in with Mindy and Chad and Tara.” You gesture loosely to your friends who were nowhere in sight.

“I can shoot them a text.”

“No…Mindy!” You shout, causing Ethan to flinch. “Chad!” It didn’t take long till Chad came into view, Mindy coming up behind him.

“Hey, you okay?” He checks you over then looks at Ethan.

“Ethan wants to uh- wants to take me home, can he?” You swallow your saliva as you lean into his side for support. “D-Do we trust him…yes or no?” You hummed out a giggle.

“Nope.” Mindy rejects the idea immediately.

“Holy fuck you are shit faced.” Chad scoffs in disbelief. Then turns to Ethan.

“Mhmm.” You hummed with your eyes closed shut.

“How much has she had to drink?”

“I lost count after the fourth one she had.” He grimaces as he sets you down on the staircase. You sit with a pout. Chad kneels down in front of you, tapping your face gently as you start to doze off.

“Hey, none of that shit. How much have you had to drink?” He frowns.

“This many...” You hold up five fingers proudly. “Couple shots too, I think...”

“Five! How are you even functioning right now?” Chad exclaims, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, okay it’s time for bed princess.” He nods repeatedly. “I’m gonna introduce you to a friend of mine while we’re at it, yeah? His name’s H20, I want you to get familiar with him. Become real good pals. Ethan, get her two water bottles…” He ushers him towards the kitchen.

“Two?”

“Two, go!” He points him off.

“You have a friend named- H20?” You squint at Chad with confusion.

“And that’s how I know you’ve had too much to drink.”

“I thought you said you were gonna lay off tonight?” Mindy raises a brow at you.

“Oops.” Your eyes widen at her.

Ethan comes back rather quickly. He takes a seat next to you, uncapping one bottle for you then handing it over before making sure you have a good grip on it.

“What’s this…” You slur looking at the drink in your hand.

“It’s your best friend. Drink it!” Chad pushes your hand gently towards your face. Though the movement only makes you chuckle.

“You have a friend named H20.” You throw your head back. Ethan and Chad exchange a glance at each other with a sigh.

“Hey, shit face.” You look down at Chad loosely, your pupils dilated. “Ethan’s gonna take you home okay. You hear me?” He tilts his head to try and meet your eyes. “You can’t stay.” Chad shakes his head.

“Why do I need to go home?” You whine.

“Cause you’re fucking wasted.” Chad mocks you.

“So unfair...” You pout.

“You know what’s unfair. Having to look after your drunk ass every time we go to a party. Would it kill you to drink responsibly?”

“You deal with your trauma. I’ll deal with mine...With alcohol.” Your eyes follow a bottle a guy has and steal it from his hands as he passes by. The dude exclaims as you turn away from his glare. Yet before the alcohol can reach your watering mouth. It’s yanked out of your grip.

“Seriously?” Chad scolds you.

“One sip...” You pinch your fingers together.

“No, go home. Ethan's gonna make sure you get to your dorm okay.”

“I hate you, you know that. You’re such a fucking buzz kill.” You cross your arms.

“Love you too, stupid.” He leans in and pecks your temple, then lightly taps the side of your face. You’re startled awake again. He replaces your empty hand with that of one of the water bottles. “Here’s some H20, please get acquainted on your way to the door.” He gestures to the front entrance. He sighs, then looks to Ethan. “Please make sure she doesn’t return, and gets some actual rest.” Chad gives you a pointed look. Ethan and Chad coddle you, help you stand but you were having none of it.

“My heroes...” You smile sarcastically, then push past them, hands up by your face as you exclaim. “I can walk on my own dammit!”

“Oh, Miss Independent can walk now. What a fucking miracle!” Chad laughs as you push through the party to get to the front door. 

“Fuck you Chad!” You flip him off.

“Look after her...please.” Chad’s shoulders slump. He runs a hand down his face. Hands at his hips as he watches you shove innocent bystanders aside. “Make sure she doesn’t try and kill anyone while you’re at it.”

“You think she’d kill someone?” Ethan’s eyes widened, perplexed as he watched someone fall at your hands.

“I wouldn’t put it past her...” Chad winces.

“Move dumbass!” You shove a guy to the ground.

“Go, go!” Chad pushes Ethan towards you.

“Yeah, yup!” Ethan’s foot slides, then hurries off after you.

“I still don’t trust him...” Mindy watches Ethan leave.

“You don’t trust anyone sis.”

-

Ethan was quite impressed by how fast you were moving in your heeled boots. Ten people knocked onto their asses and three shoves later you were nearing the campus. You had a good few feet in front of him as he continued running after you. He tried his best but he had a bad habit of being polite, helping everyone you pushed, only further increasing the distance between you and him. He had to hold you up early since you were off balance and could barely stand. However, now, you were walking perfectly fine in your three inch heeled boots. You were incredibly remarkable. “Y/n wait up!” 

You eventually decided to let up and halt in place. Your arms crossed over your chest as you looked over your shoulder towards Ethan, who failed miserably to keep up with your pace. It felt like you were the one walking yourself home rather than Ethan, as opposed to Chad making him promise to look after you. Your relaxed features and bored demeanor made him shake his head as he tried to catch his breath.

“How are you upright?” He gave you an incredulous look.

“I’m just walking...” You shrug.

“You-” He swallowed down his saliva, hands on his knees. You rolled your eyes as he motioned to give him a second. You let your hands flop down to your sides. “You walk fast in those.” He reached down and patted your black boots.

“Yeah and?” You raise an eyebrow. “Ethan, how are you out of breath?” You gesture to his curled over form. 

“I don’t know...” He heaves out. He stays this way for a minute till a water bottle is shoved in his face as he’s hunched over. He turns to look at your extended hand with the second water bottle. He shakes his head, denying the drink clearly meant for you.

“Take it!” You push your hand towards him again.

“No, it was for you. I’m okay.” He places his hands over his head to help him breathe easier.

“I always sober up with one Ethan...I’m pretty sure this one was meant for you.” You chuckle as he starts to put two and two together. He closes his eyes.

“He knew?” His chest rises and falls. “How could he have known?” He finds it hard to believe. He graciously takes the water and chugs in down, the remaining sips he splashes over his face. 

“Cause it’s routine...” You give a small smile with a shrug. “It was usually Wes who did this sort of thing though. Walk me home and stuff. He couldn’t keep up either.” You chuckle as Ethan dried his face with the collar of his shirt.

“Wes…Is he the one that- Your-“ Ethan paused. The implication of whether he was the one who had died was clear. You nod to lessen his confusion.

“Yeah…” Your breathing gets shaky. “Look Ethan you’re gonna see a variety of versions of myself. Some nice, some stable, some ugly, some messy, and some right out stupid.” You gesture off behind him. “That was messy…This is messy.” You motion up and down at yourself. Your black thin flowy dress swivels with your movement. “I like to drink my problems away and I know it’s not a healthy way to deal with the shit that’s happened to me, but it frees me!” Your eyes begin to water. “It’s a bad escape, I know that because it could lead to so much worse than trying to sober me up. I tend to go overboard, and I know it’s not your responsibility, but I just want to say thank you. For stepping in and cutting me off…” Your voice trembles. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me, or save me from stupidly walking into oncoming traffic on accident. You shouldn’t have to…but you do. So thank you.”

Ethan’s heart clenches as a tear slips down your cheek. He didn’t know the full extent of how bad it really was for you. Surely the group gave brief examples of how you got, but letting yourself be vulnerable in front of him, had him rethinking his family's plans. You were hurting enough as it was, this would only had onto it. Despite losing his brother, now knowing how fucked up almost getting murdered messed you up, he wanted to do everything in his power to see you smile again. To take over Wes’s role in watching and taking care of you. You watched as he patted his pockets and dug into his front left one. White folded squares came into your view. Ethan stepped closer to hand them to you.

“I have tissues. Well, three tissues…” He let out with a nervous laugh. His smile grew as your face lit up. You scoff in disbelief, yet a smile remains plastered on your face.

“Of course you do…” You chide. You bring them up to your eyes to pat at your waterline. You do this a couple times until Ethan reaches forward to wipe a spot you missed. No smears or smudges from your mascara anymore as he caressed your cheek with his thumb gently. Your doe-like eyes soften as he lets his hand fall back down to his side. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He grins.

You hold your right arm with your left as your eyes wander. Catching sight of other students and adults passing by the two of you in the middle of the courtyard. All dressed in various recognizable outfits from some movies you liked. Though the only unrecognizable costume you couldn’t quite put your finger on was that of Ethan’s cardboard get up. Your eyes rake up and down him, then quickly look away when he catches you staring. He grows shy as he looks down at himself.

“What?”

“What?” You look back up at him, trying your best not to laugh at him.

“What was that look?” He nervously chuckles. 

“What look? I wasn’t giving you a look.” You deny it.

“Yeah, you were. What is it? Do I have something on me or-”

“No, no, no it’s not that.” You put your hands out, stopping his fussing.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I uh-” You tilt your head, eyes furrowed as you take a step back to observe him. “What the fuck are you even supposed to be?” This time you can’t contain your fits of laughter.

“What?” His eyes widened. He looks down at himself again, then grabs hold of his helmet. “I’m uh- I’m a knight. I thought it was obvious...” He looks over his costume again. 

“No kidding...” You tilt your head to the left this time. Hoping the change of angle would make his costume appear more flattering. 

“I look stupid huh?” He takes the helmet off. Guilt eats you up as he tries to avoid your eyes. “You think I look stupid don’t you?”

“No, no....” You trail off trying to come up with something to say. Ethan waits patiently, but rolls his eyes, his arms flopping down to his sides at your lack of response.

“Great.” He nods. 

“No, I promise. You don’t look, stupid. I just wasn’t sure what you were trying to be is all...” You step forward and touch his arms in reassurance. “It’s cute!” You offer a smile, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

“Wasn’t trying to look cute...” He picks the helmet up and kicks it a few feet away. You stare at him, jaw slacked in shock. You hurry over and pick up the helmet before anyone can crush it. The click of your heels causes him to look up at your approaching figure. You do your best to wipe off collecting dirt off the cardboard. You blow onto it and begin to fully inspect his creation. Apart from being cardboard made. His attention to detail was impressive. Your fingertips follow the outline of the carved out visor. Your smile grows as you take in the effort he put into his costume. 

“When’d you make this?” You look up to meet his timid demeanor. 

“Two days before the party...Chad didn’t exactly give me a heads up.” He chews on his bottom lip.

“Two days...” Your eyes grow in amazement. You look back down at the helmet in your hands. Your caress over the visor then turn to place his helmet back over his face. An impressed smirk over your features, as you turn it a slight bit so it was aligned properly. “There...The costume is complete again.” Ethan thinks you're gonna pull away but when you stay in place, your hands slide down to his chest. He hopes then and there you don’t hear the increase in his heartbeats.

“So you don’t-” He swallows down his saliva. “You don’t think my costume’s stupid?”

“I think that...if anyone fails to see the effort you put into it, then they won’t appreciate it as much as they should.”

“You appreciate it?” He mutters out softly.

“More so than pizza guy coming this way.” You beam at him, then turn your heads, watching a group of friends in full body slip on costumes. The hotdog man got to you. You and Ethan turn away to stifle your laughs. 

“Thanks. Really, helps my confidence.” He nods in appreciation.

“Hey, you should be proud of this costume. You made it yourself.” You pat his cardboard chest armor. “There’s an actual thought process behind it...It’s sweet.” 

“Yeah?” He narrows his brows at you with a faint smile.

“Yeah!”

“Well, then you’d be the first to think so...Harry Potter girl didn’t think so.” He emits a half hearted laugh. Your heart sinks for a second. 

“A girl dressed as Harry Potter rejected you. In this get up?” You gawk at him in shock.

“Yeah, we don’t need to talk about it-” Ethan closes his eyes.

“Where is she?” You start looking around as a joke. Your stomach flutters hearing him chuckle at your antics. “I wanna have a word with her about her lack of taste in men. Dressed as Harry Potter...We do not claim her.” Ethan shakes his head, and nudges your arms to bring your focus back to him. You grow quiet from the close proximity of you two. You can’t help but mutter. “She should be ashamed...” Your eyes flicker to his lips then his eyes. Ethan seems to get your hint and starts to lean in slowly. You gather his hesitation and lean in the rest of the way to press your lips against his. For never having a girlfriend he wasn’t as bad a kisser as you thought he’d be. Ethan curls over a bit to deepen the kiss. His hands slowly sliding from holding your waist, to holding your neck, to cupping one side of your face. You let out a small gasp as he pulls away. You chase after his lips not wanting to break away just yet, even if your lungs burned. Ethan only continues to push you away slightly. The shake of his head causing you to open your eyes, a frown painting on your lips.

“You’ve been drinking, we shouldn’t. You’re not thinking straight...” He pressed his head against yours. The helmet creates a barrier between you, but it hardly bothers you. Your both breathless, chests rising and falling.  

“M-My intentions are sober, Landry.” You try to lean in again, but Ethan is quite adamant on not further continuing the kiss you’ve shared. “Ethan?” Your shoulders slump.

“I want to!” He exclaims, he steps back and takes his helmet off. “Trust me I do...” He reassures you as you cross your arms over your chest. Feeling silly and embarrassed, but he stops your doubts. “Just not like this, okay? Not when you had a lot to drink.”

“I’m fine!” You laugh out in disbelief. 

“You’re drunk.” He gestures to you. You uncross your arms, your mood shifting. “Let’s just get you home okay. Let me walk you to your dorm...” He extends his arm out to you. Palm opened and waiting. “Please...” He tilts his head a bit. He felt shitty enough that he stopped the kiss, but he didn’t want to do it this way. You were hesitant to take his hand, but Ethan sighs in relief when you place yours in his palm. He curls his hand around yours tightly, and walks you home in silence. 

-

When you had opened the door to your room. You flipped on the lights and started removing your shoes. You looked around, your roommate wasn’t here, which felt odd to you, considering she herself wasn’t as much as a party person. You catch sight of a blue sticky note stuck to your desk lamp. It read. “Y/n gone out with a few friends 2nite, don’t wait up. P.s. I can’t find my room key...Great.” You read out loud. Throwing the note in the trash. “Guess, I’ll have to leave it open.” You say to yourself, but Ethan hears you.

Ethan stands by the door. His eyes shifted to the furthest end of the hallway nervously. Not that you had picked up on it. You remove your jewelry next, then turn to Ethan, who had refused to pass the threshold. 

“You can come in. You don’t need to just stand there ya know.” You emit a faint laugh, eyes furrowed at his closed off body language. His hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks back into the hallway. You take notice of the rapid taps of his foot. “Ethan, you okay?”

“Mmm...Oh yeah, yeah!” He turns back to you. Nodding in reassurance. “I should head back anyway.” He gestures over his shoulder. You nod in solemn defeat. The walk was excruciatingly painful, but you figured that he did have a point not to kiss him while intoxicated. You disappear to the left of the room. The corner hiding you as you change. Ethan catches your witch costume flung onto your bed. He readjusts his stance, shaking his head to not let his inner thoughts take over. Yet he’s a guy, and guys are curious. He leans into the room, head tilted in hopes to catch a peek, but he’s startled back into place once you round the corner again, clad in pajamas. Well, it was really just a Blackmore University shirt, and short bottoms. Ethan’s eyes widened, growing flustered by your bare legs. He looks down as you approach him with a timid smile. It was quite a refreshing sight, to see all your armor come off. Like he finally had a glimpse at the real you. You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. He grows red, as he looks up at you through his eyelashes. He gives a faint laugh then stands tall. He taps the top of your doorway and begins to bid you a goodbye.

“Get some sleep okay, and definitely drink more water.” He informs you. You nod nonchalantly.

“I still need to take my makeup off...” You look into the hallway now. Remembering the bathroom was down the hallway. Essentially where Ethan was trying to avoid looking towards. “God I don’t want to but I need to.” You rub your eyes tiredly. “Anyway, thank you again.” You laugh. “You have truly been my knight in shining armor tonight...” You pat his chest again. “I had fun tonight and I’m sorry for the-'' You get cut off by his lips that leaned in and pressed against yours. He pulls back slowly, the kiss still lingering, and your mind barely processing. You scoff out in disbelief. “I thought you said-”

“I couldn’t leave without doing that.” 

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” You promised. You lean in this time pressing a sweet kiss on him. He gets lost in the kiss and before he knows it you shove him further into the hall to the adjacent wall. His back hits it, his chest rising and falling. You hold off on wanting to pull him back inside your room, but you knew you shouldn’t. Ethan’s words echoing in your mind. “Get home safe, dork.” You smile at him, then slowly close the door. Your back pressed up against it as you raised your fingertips up to your lips. A giddy grin decorating your face now. Ethan composes himself and walks up to your door. He hesitates to knock, but does it anyway. You grow confused and go to open it, but yelp as it’s pulled shut. “What the fuck!” You exclaim, wide eyed. “E-Ethan?”

“Lock it!” He says through the door.

“What?”

“The door, lock it!” 

“Wha-”

“Don’t leave it open tonight, lock it.”

“Ethan, you’re scaring me.” You go to pull it open again, but the grip on it has you growing nervous. He won’t let up on his grip.

“Just do it!” Once it hears the click of the lock, he lets go. “I gotta go!” He gulps nervously. “I’ll explain later okay, just keep it locked okay. I gotta go.” He gives a tap to the door and you see his shadow walk away underneath the door. You’re left standing there confused as fuck and scared. What the hell was that?

-

Ethan walked off in haste down the hallway. He kept looking behind him and when he finally rounded the corner where he saw a glimpse of black earlier, he gripped the robe and slammed the person against the wall. The person let out a groan, and slid down the carpeted floor. Ethan glared down at them as he waited for the ghostface mask to come off. It wasn’t long till he was met with Quinn’s annoyed face.

“What the fuck?” She stands up and shoves him.

“Plans off tonight...” Ethan shook his head. 

“What the fuck do you mean its off? You said you were gonna get her alone tonight. That’s why we plotted this whole shit in the first place...” She looks over at him and sees the shift in his demeanor. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Holy shit! You didn’t?” Quinn brings her knife up to point accusatory at him. “You fucking dumbass. You got attached. What the fuck did we say about getting close to the oth-”

“We kissed!” Ethan exclaimed. “I kissed her!”

“You’re fucking pathetic…” Quinn rolls her eyes. “I’m not gonna find her room unlocked am I?” She sneers at him. “You stupid fuck!”

“I’m not gonna let you kill her.” Ethan stands his ground. “Not her.” Ethan frowns.

“You fucking like her. That’s why you keep going out with them.” Quinn shakes her head.

“Tell dad she’s off the list. Not her. Quinn, I’m begging you, don’t fucking hurt her. If you do I’m gonna fucking kill you.” He glares down at her. “Not her.”

“You completely screwed up tonight's plans, you know that right? It would’ve been nice to have a heads up. Like you need to tell us when you just suddenly decide to ditch the plans we made...” Quinn pouts. Stomping her foot as she lets her arms fall to her sides. “Like what the fuck am I gonna do with her now?” Quinn and Ethan then look over to your very dead and brutally stabbed roommate next to her on the ground. The blue carpet staining red very fast. 

“Shit…” Ethan runs a hand down his face as he looks around the halls. 

“You need to say shit within reason, dumbass.” She slaps him upside the head. “This is why you don’t make the plans!”

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 5th

Day 5: Rough Sex // Anal Beads // Bondage

Ezra x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Rough sex, hair pulling, uncomfortable positions, choking, mild taunting, isolation, obsession (?)

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Nothing and no one in the Fringe is gentle. You can’t be. It’s a dog eat dog kind of existence, kill or be killed. Ezra, cunning and ruthless, is no exception. 

“Fuuuuuuuck.” His hiss is rough, almost as rough as the punishing pace of his thrusts as his hips slap against your ass brutally. The only thing keeping you from keeling over the box of supplies that clutter your tent is the fingers twisted into your hair and yanking your head back. Leverage, he calls it, although your scalp burns and your neck aches from the angle he keeps pulling you to as he hammers into your cunt. 

Your legs shake and your eyes close tightly every time he plunges deep, almost painfully into your core. Feeling like he’s in your fucking stomach and has no intention of letting up until he’s satisfied. 

The slick brutal sound of this coupling overpowers the soft hum of the scrubbers, the trickle of air coming out of the vent. Aided by his snarling and growling in your ear, making you shiver when he bites on your lobe.

“You’ll feel me for days.” He vows, sounding proud of that truth and he is. Every time he fucks you, he makes you feel him for days. Smirking when you gingerly sit or move as his shifty eyes follow you around. “Won’t you, birdie? You’re gonna sing for me.” 

You gasp, sucking in a lungful of air as he breaks you open again and again, forcing cunt to accommodate his thick cock. Shamefully getting slicker and squeezing him while that familiar pull of need tightens in your belly. Shooting straight to your cunt when he hits a little too deep and makes you hiss, lifting to your toes to find some kind of relief only to be yanked back down and his grip tightening around your waist. 

He fucks you like it’s his last mission in life, like you will disappear if he doesn’t hold tight. You might slip away like the temperamental aurelac that you mine for. 

You had never expected this when you had signed on with Ezra. Charmed by his overly talkative nature and the maddening little tuft of golden blonde hair, you had missed the undercurrent of darkness. The flash of brutality that he hides beneath amber eyes. 

There had been hope, hope of possibly tumbling into bed with the handsome prospector. It can be lonely in the fringe and fucking can pass the time and ease the temperments of even the most ornery soul. You had never expected him to completely own you, body and mind. “Ez- Ez-” Your voice catches every time he pushes back inside you, making even completing his name an impossible task but Ezra revels in it. 

“That’s it.” He coos, his tone one of dark, mocking pride in your ear. “You know you need this, little bird. You need my cock. You begged for my attention today, didn’t you? Kevva, you’re a fucking little tease, aren’t you? A siren.” 

You whine, feeling his fingers digging into your waist and anchoring you even more firmly to his chest as his hips piston and he rocks his cock in and out of your wet cunt. He has turned greedy, his desire nearly insatiable when you get back to the tent after spending the day in an enclosed suit and unable to touch more than your ears through the channel of the radios that connect you. 

Ezra is always rough when he fucks you, there no softness, no gentleness and it shames you how your body responds to it. Your nipples are harder than the useless stone aurelac turns into when the sulfuric acid of the sac is punctured. Panting as your stomach twists and coils in pleasure while his cock scrubs your walls with a ruthless tenacity that makes your eyes roll back in your head. 

The rough hewn wood of the primitive crates - where Ezra got them, you don’t really want to know - dig into your thighs and stomach. Scratching your skin and making it even more intense when he just doesn’t let up. 

He growls in your ear, a rough, unhinged sound. You don’t even have to look to know that his lips are curled into a snarl, his eyes dark and filled with a possessive glow. Right now he owns you. He owns your body, your pleasure, your very breath as his hand slides up from your hip to your throat. 

“I can’t hear you, birdie.” He hisses, the sharp punch of his cock making you squeak and his fingers flex, tightening around your neck and expertly cutting off your air. Making it impossible for you to do more than try to choke, your cunt clenching down around his length as your entire body reacts with that fight or flight response he uses to his advantage so well. 

Ezra chuckles, the tone filthy and menacing, knowing exactly how he is manipulating you, using you like a marionette on a string and he is the puppet master. “That’s it, squeeze my cock, girl.” He grunts. “I can feel how wet you get, you love the way I fuck you, don’t you?” 

You feel his fingers loosen, wanting an answer to his question. “Y-yes.” You gasp out, nodding against his hand and feeling the slight pressure. Feeling that he wants to choke you again. “Ezzzzraaaaaa.” 

You feel your body jolt and he growls your name. “Cum for me.” He demands, the intensity of his thrusts ramping up. Somehow fucking you harder than he had before. Making your vision go white and your voice breaks on a scream that echoes on the isolated planet where you are mining to make your riches. 

The wet clench of your cunt, the slick that pours out of you, just makes Ezra that much more feral. Kicking your feet farther apart and flattening you over the crates. Crowding your body with his and pressing tight. Not allowing any space between you, his thrusts grinding into you. 

He fucks you through the highs of your orgasm, pushing ever deeper, using your juices to feed his cock ever forward into your cunt. Until he is butting against your cervix, punching against it. Battering at it like it's a gate to a fortress that he is trying to sack. 

You couldn’t push up on your toes even if you wanted, his body pinning you down. His grunts get deeper, more breathless as he drives himself closer to filling you up. His groans draw out like a prayer to Kevva. 

All you can do is hold on, your cunt quivering and your thighs shaking while he hammers into you. Waiting for that moment when his hips stutter. When you know that he has finally pushed himself over that edge. 

His hands tighten, painful and beautiful as he stiffens behind you. Slamming into you one last time while he empties himself into you. Pours himself into your body with hot waves that seem to continue on forever. 

“Keeeeeva.” He groans softly, panting when he finally stops moving. The air is heavy and filled with the purified air and the pungent smell of sweat and sex. “Good girl.” He praises breathlessly. Knowing that he will take you just as fervently tomorrow, just as rough. Never getting his fill of your body and the pleasures it brings.