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alltheirdamn · 2 months

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Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Summary: Sharing land with Joel Miller has always been infuriating, but when your bad attitude finally gets his attention...things get messy. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, explicit language, brat taming, semi dark!joel, dubcon elements, degrading, choking, rough spanking, hair pulling, face slapping, throat fucking, touch of dacryphilia, rope/bondage, rough unprotected piv sex, hint of a subspace moment, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, no aftercare because joel is an old, grumpy asshole A/N: Y'all probably wouldn't believe me if I told you Apple by Charlie XCX inspired this random fic...but anyway, this one goes out to my sweet bb angel @lotusbxtch <3 thank you for always being my partner in crime in the late hours of the evening ilysm

Part II

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The Texas sun beat down on your skin as you rode through the acres of land—your land— stretching out before you. Passed down from generation to generation, this entire pasture of fields and wild barley was yours. After both of your parents died during a freak accident, you inherited the land and dealt with upkeep and farm animals as if it were your life. And it was your life. Every inch of this farmland was yours, no matter what anyone said.

You pressed your heels into the side of your horse, Mac, and urged him further down through the tall grass. The summer hadn’t been kind to the fields, the grass yellowing in most places, but what would you do about it? Tell the sun to stop shining? All you could do was take care of the land and ensure nothing went wrong. The animals were taken care of, the wild wheat still grew strong in the outskirts past your tiny farm home, and you had enough money to put dinner on the table for yourself at the end of your night.

No trouble at all.

What was trouble, though, was Joel Miller riding his ass right down the edge of your land. The sun cast him in a dark silhouette as he rode closer, his broad body sitting tall on the back of his horse. You held back the reigns, shushing Mac gently as you slowed him to a trot, keeping a healthy distance from the insufferable man trespassing onto your fields.

“Think y’got yourself a bit lost out here, Miller,” you hollered.

Joel removed the black cowboy hat from his head; the grey hairs streaking through his curls shimmered in the sunlight as he swiped an arm over his sweaty forehead. Every inch of his skin was sunkissed and tan from hours under the sun, his greying beard patchy and well-kept despite his rugged exterior. If he weren’t such an asshole, maybe you’d even consider him attractive, but your irritation with him ran deeper than any other emotion.

Staring up at you under thick brows, Joel quirked an amused grin and shrugged.

“Ain’t lost at all, darlin’. S’my land out here.”

You steered Mac forward, keeping yourself parallel with Joel’s body. You weren’t intimidated by any man, let alone Joel Miller. He may have a few decades on you, but that didn’t matter. The Miller family had always been a problem. For generations, they feuded with your family over acres of land that stretched across the horizon, never agreeing on who owned what. Before Joel, his father had caused an uproar in your family, and now he just had to continue causing problems. Would you ever rid yourself of this man and his family?

“I suggest y’take your ass home ‘fore I make you leave,” you warned.

The wind kicked around you, fanning your hair down around your shoulders. Joel caught how your hair flared under your cowboy hat, and a hint of mischief sparkled inside his dark brown eyes. He was a fucking nuisance and still on your fucking land.

“Careful now, darlin’. Those are some mighty big fightin’ words.”

You straightened your spine, holding firm on the reigns to keep yourself anchored. Mac huffed impatiently as if he knew how sour your mood was turning. The longer you kept yourself around Joel, the quicker your anger grew. The sun would set soon, and you still had miles to cover before you made it home; you wouldn’t entertain an old cowboy all night, even if he were staring at you like you were a wild horse to be tamed.

“This is the last time I’m tellin’ you to stay off my land, Joel. I mean it.”

Joel chuckled lightly as if your words meant nothing. He placed his hat back over the matted curls on his head and began riding past you. You glared over your shoulder, watching his body travel further into the horizon and away from the rolling fields of your land.

The summer wasn’t getting any easier. The sun grew brighter each day, and the air thickened with humidity, making it nearly impossible to continue wearing anything restrictive. With no one else around to pester you, you paraded around the stables in a tight top, a pair of daisy dukes, and your usual worn leather boots. The fewer clothes, the better—even if that meant getting bit up by a few mosquitoes here and there.

You were deep into cleaning Mac’s stall when you heard the sound of hoofs pounding against the dirt ground outside the stables. Your body went rigid; you knew who it was without looking. Who else would it be out here? The horse in the distance bristled as its rider dropped to the ground, his heavy footfall nearing you as you exited the stall with a towel slung over your shoulder.

Joel stood tall in the entrance, his broad frame sucking in all of the light as he walked closer. He wore an old denim button-up, and the sleeves pushed up his tan forearms, exposing the thickly corded muscles that ran down to his hands. Without a cowboy hat resting over his eyes, you could see how rich and dark they were as they stared you down. Despite hating him, your body reacted on its own accord. You clenched your thighs, trying to quell the ache growing inside your core. Leaning against the stall, you narrowed your eyes, watching Joel stalking closer. His steps were confident—casually, even—as if he owned the damn place.

“Not sure why y’think it’s okay to come waltzin’ in here,” you scowled, folding your arms over your chest.

“Ain’t you just a ray of sunshine,” Joel smirked.

“Fuck off, old man,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“What was that, darlin?”

Joel stepped forward, and you mimicked his movements, drawing yourself closer to him. Even with his height towering over you, you were unphased. This man wouldn’t get the best of you.

“Oh, sorry. Should I be speakin’ louder? Ain’t sure if y’got your hearing aids in.”

“No, I heard y’just fine. Just wanna hear you say it again.”

The toe of your boot tapped against his as you glared up at him. With a smug grin stretching across your face, you repeated your retort.

“Fuck off. Old man.”

Joel’s body tensed, his eyes narrowed as he considered your words. You weren’t backing down; he was on your property and, quite frankly, pissing you off. He could bitch and moan all he wanted about how this land was his birthright, but he was wrong. Your parents settled the matter generations ago and never once faltered against the Millers. That wouldn’t change now. You’d uphold their wishes and continue fighting for what was yours.

“Y’gotta damn nasty mouth on such a tiny body. Ain’t your parents teach you some manners?” Joel questioned.

“They taught me enough, but it ain’t gonna stop me from tellin’ you off. So, get the hell off my property,” you demanded.

You glanced down, noticing Joel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. It was amusing seeing him all riled up. Who knew he had that kind of spark in him? You wondered just how far you could push him until he snapped.

“Ain’t you just spoiled rotten. Is that what it is? Y’think everythin’ is yours ‘cause your mommy and daddy said so?”

His voice was taunting, a litany of rhetorical questions to which he didn’t care to know the answer. Whatever you said, it wouldn’t matter because his mind was made up. Stubborn old man.

“I don’t think everythin’ is mine. I know it is,” you objected. “So, move your old ass back to your side of the pasture and get out of my face.”

Joel crowded your body, walking you back towards the stall door until your body pressed into the wood. You lifted your chin defiantly, watching his eyes clouded with rage.

“Spoiled lil’ brat. Should teach you a lesson for the way you’re speakin’ to me,” Joel growled.

Let’s see how far we can take this, you thought.

“Whatcha gonna do? Spank me?” You laughed, gracing him with a rueful smile.

Placing his hands above you on the door, Joel caged you between his body. You had nowhere to run; truthfully, you didn’t want to run. The incessant ache between your legs was swelling, your underwear practically soaked with the burning anticipation coursing through your veins.

“Keep runnin’ your mouth, darlin’. S’only gonna make things worse for you.”

“I ain’t scared of you, Joel.”

“You damn well should be,” he warned.

Joel’s hand shot out to grab the base of your neck, yanking you a breath away from his lips. The rich scent of whiskey wafted off his lips as he held you close, his fingers tightening around your throat. You rolled your tongue across your bottom lip, an invitation for whatever threat he had. You could take it.

“Y’think it’s cute actin’ this way? Think you’re just tough shit, and no one will put you in your place, hmm?” Joel whispered.

“You gonna be the one to do it, Joel?” You challenged.

Joel used his grip on your throat to spin you toward the door, your cheek smashing into the wood as he pinned you against it. The instant sting of his palm radiated through the denim of your shorts, the heat of his hand melting into your skin. You yelped in pain, dragging your nails over the wood that strained against the press of your body. His hand smoothed over the curve of your ass before delivering another jarring smack.

“Fuck!” You cried, biting back tears.

“Spoiled.” Smack. “Fuckin’.” Smack. “Brat.” Smack. Smack.

“Joel, please!” You begged.

You weren’t sure if you were begging for more or begging for him to stop. Either way, he was unrelenting, his handprint leaving welts on your skin. Joel’s grip on your throat tightened, restricting your breathing as he dug his fingers into the supple skin of your ass. Prodding…smoothing…spanking. A continuous, viscous cycle you were weak against. Every bite of his hand on your body intensified the throbbing between your legs, your clit swelling with need. Repeating slaps against your other cheek forced tears down your face, their path leading down your neck and onto Joel’s warm hand.

“You cryin’, darlin’?” Joel taunted. “Gonna beg me to stop?”

“Please—” You choked out, your words garbled and strained.

Joel’s lips touched your ear, his breath fanning over your skin in waves.

“M’fraid I can’t. Not til’ y’learn your lesson.”

You twisted your head around, your tired eyes connecting with his. There wasn’t a hint of brown in his irises as his pupils swallowed them whole, an unsatisfied look washing over his features. He wasn’t done, and neither were you.

“Fuck you,” you snarled.

Joel tilted his head, his graying mustache twitching as his lips curved into a smile. An unmistakable hint of desire masked his expression, keeping you reeled in and wanting more. If he could keep going, then so could you.

“You just ain’t backin’ down, huh?” Joel questioned.

You wagged your head back and forth, his fingers squeezing against your windpipes. Joel’s hand coasted up your waist, tugging at the belt loop on your shorts until your body spun to face his. Even with tears streaming down your cheeks, you grinned at him, clearly unbothered by the onslaught of pain he had inflicted.

“That all y’got, old man?” You lipped off.

“Call me old man one more time, darlin’,” Joel warned his face inches from yours.

“Old. Man.” You punctuated each word through gritted teeth.

Joel cupped your sex through your jeans, no doubt feeling the arousal seeping through the denim fabric. A rouge whimper fell off your lips, and you bit back any more sounds to give away the desperation rolling through your veins.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he exhaled, but there was a lightness in his voice.

You were both giving into some carnal need, electrifying the humid air around you. You chased his mouth, wanting to lap up every threat on his whiskey-drenched tongue. Joel pulled back, your lips connecting with nothing as you arched forward. With a slight pout, you huffed in annoyance.

“Look who’s actin’ all desperate now. Just beggin’ for this old man to fuck you.”

“Betcha can’t even get it up in the first place,” you grumbled.

Joel’s hand connected with your cheek, a rough slap sending your face to the side. Dammit, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d done. The sting of his palm sent a wave of pleasure rolling through your stomach, a burning need just aching to come undone. Thick fingers gripped your jaw, wagging your face side to side.

“I’ve heard enough of that bratty mouth,” Joel said decisively.

His hands brushed over your collarbone, grasping your shoulders and shoving you to your knees. Your legs hit the straw-covered ground with a soft thud, your skin scraping against the dry hay. He wasted no time undoing his large belt buckle, working his cock out of the confines of his jeans, and your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Joel was hung like a fucking horse, his length thick and no short of any girth. Precum dribbled down off the tip, the sticky mess enticing you to move closer. Staring up at him through your lashes, you waited for his next move. He might have you on your knees, but you’d have his cock, and that was power in itself.

“Make use of that mouth and suck,” he commanded.

You lapped at the precum, his cock twitching against every flick of your tongue. You explored his length, dragging your tongue along the veins running down the underside of his cock. Joel gripped the hair at the crown of your head, guiding your mouth over the tip and down his length. Your nose brushed against the bushy hair at the base, his musky scent flooding your senses—it was intoxicating.

“There we go,” Joel hummed, his voice gravely and strained. “So fuckin’ full of me y’can’t talk back.”

His name came out muffled as you tried to speak, your tongue flatted against the base of his cock. He pushed his cock a centimeter further, the tip knocking against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, your hands slapping against his thick thighs.

“I don’t wanna hear y’say a damn word,” Joel growled. “You’re gonna take my fuckin’ cock down your throat and choke on it.”

You clawed at his thighs as tears sprung along your waterline, threatening to spill over the longer he kept himself inside your mouth. His fingers tightened around tiny strands of your hair, anchoring you to his cock as he thrusted himself deeper. You tried to protest and pull away, but his grip on you was unforgiving.

“Please,” you garbled, spit rolling down your chin.

“Still actin’ like a spoiled fuckin’ brat, ain’t you? Think y’can get whatever you want?”

He granted you an inch to breathe, pulling you halfway off his cock. You inhaled sharply through your nose, trying to latch onto any control. Joel used his grip on your hair to slide your mouth up and down his length, the sound of your lips around his the only noise aside from his labored breathing. You tapped on his thigh twice, hoping he’d relent and give you a reprieve.

“Real fuckin’ cute,” he laughed. “Struggle all y’want, darlin’. I ain’t stoppin’.”

The tears flowed freely now, mixing with the saliva pooling down your jaw as you worked him deeper down your throat. Every strained attempt to beg him to stop fell on deaf ears; his cock only pushed further down until you had no choice but to sit there completely disarmed and helpless. The scratches left on his thighs didn’t phase him at all, nor did your whimpers as you tried to swallow a breath around him.

“Keep cryin’, darlin’. Just makes you look prettier when I’m ruinin’ you,” Joel muttered.

As your nose pressed against the hair at his navel, Joel’s hand brushed over your cheek, collecting a rogue tear on his thumb. Through blurred eyes and running mascara, you blinked up at him right as he tasted the tear pooling on the pad of his fingertip.

“Delicious,” he hummed.

A dangerous grin split across his face, his hips jerking forward one last time before he wrenched you free from his cock. You coughed violently, the air wooshing back into your lungs with each heaving breath. You swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, wiping off the saliva coating your chin and jaw.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” you choked out.

Crouching down, Joel met you at eye level, his eyes soulless and dark. You shivered under his heavy gaze and flinched away from his face as he crowded you.

“How’s that attitude of yours now?” He questioned.

You reeled back, sending a glob of spit across the bridge of his nose. Joel scrunched his eyes together, jaw clenched as he wiped away your spit. You bared your teeth at him, still refusing to back down. Joel straightened to his full height, working at shoving his cock back in his jeans. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed; you hated him but wanted more.

“Guess I ain’t been rough enough,” Joel grumbled, walking down the stable.

You watched as he picked a bundle of lead rope off the hook near Mac’s stall, weighing it between his hands. A jolt of panic ran through your veins as you saw his eyes light up in mischief. You were so fucked. You half-considered running, but where was the fun in that? Joel would only chase you down, and even that sounded delicious. There was no use in fighting it now; you were in it for the long haul.

“Now,” he started, his steps slow as he walked back toward your kneeling body. “I’m gonna give you two options. Y’either walk your ass outside like a good girl, or I drag you out by your hair. What’s it gonna be, darlin’?”

“I’ll walk,” you snapped, rising to your feet.

Your knees ached with each step as you walked into the blinding daylight outside the stables. Gnats swarmed around your face as you stood idle by the entrance, glancing over your shoulder at Joel stalking behind you. The rope swung beside his body as he carried it in his hand, the lingering threat lying within the coarse fibers that wound together. His head jerked over to the tie rack beside the barn, his eyes trained on the vacant stall before the expanse of your land.

“C’mon, brat.”

He waltzed in front of you, guiding you to the empty platform with a stern look gracing his features. Without a single word, Joel yanked your wrists together, his deft fingers working at knotting the rope around your skin. The fraying pieces bit into your skin, rubbing and burning the longer he twisted it in loops around your hands. He gave the rope a good tug, humming in satisfaction once the binding was tight enough. Guiding your arms upwards, he clipped the lead to the metal loop on one side of the tie rack, keeping your body suspended awkwardly as your wrists ached from the restraint. You refused to say a word, too frustrated even to protest his actions. If you thought you were helpless before, you were utterly powerless now. It was just you, Joel, and the empty stretch of land that went on for miles.

Joel pressed his body against your back, the warmth of his touch ignited heat within your core all over again. You squirmed as his hands roamed over your curves, his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts under your sweat-covered shirt. He pinched at your nipples, finding their pebbled indentation hidden within your bra. A desperate whine left your lips as you swayed against the pull of the rope, your feet slipping against the ground.

“See all that land out there,” Joel whispered, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “That’s all mine, darlin’, and I’m gonna make sure you remember that by the time I’m through with you.”

“Tyin’ me up and fuckin’ me ain’t gonna change my mind,” you scoffed.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck some sense into you.”

Joel’s hands worked down your body, making quick work of undoing your shorts and shoving them down to your boots. The hot, sticky summer air breezed over your bare skin, hardly helping to soothe the painful ache between your thighs. Thick, calloused fingers massaged the skin of your hips, kneading your supple curves as you writhed against his touch. You could beg him for more, and oh god, did you want to. You wanted to cave and relinquish everything just to quell the burning pleasure inside your body, but you wouldn’t beg. Not for Joel Miller or any other man.

Joel swiped a finger through your drenched folds, tutting at your pliancy. The brief touch alone was enough to spark stars behind your eyes, your breath growing shallow.

“Well, would ya’ look at that,” Joel tutted. “You’re soakin’ my fingers, darlin’.”

You refused to say a word, too afraid you’d succumb to your own devices. You wouldn’t ask him to fuck you, but Jesus Christ, you fucking needed it. Every fiber of your being cried for release, and if it meant you had to be tied up and fucked in front of the yellow fields in front of you, then that’s what you’d do.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Joel offered. “Say this land is mine and I’ll let you go.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, no doubt a mess after being on your knees before him. There was a cruelty in his eyes that alarmed you, but you were too focused on what you needed, even to feel afraid.

“This is my land,” you stated, your chin held high. “S’my family’s land and it’s gonna stay that way ‘til I’m in my grave.”

“Wrong fuckin’ answer.”

Joel knocked your legs apart, the denim of his jeans dragging against your slick arousal. There was a moment where there was absolutely nothing, a vacancy of sound or touch that deprived your senses. Maybe you were teetering on the edge of delirium, too far gone to know what he was doing behind you, but then you felt everything. The thick head of his cock brushed against your entrance, rubbing between your silken folds in tantalizing strokes. That was the only warning he gave before pushing himself deeper, splitting you open inch by inch. You cried out as your body worked to stretch around his length, and your vision blackened as the sharp pain of the sensation jolted through your veins.

“Fuck!” You screamed.

The adjustment to his size was agonizing despite how wet you were. Nothing could have prepared you for the way Joel broke you open, nor was there anything that could have prepared you for how brutal he would become. Thrust after thrust, he assaulted you, completely breaking you and molding you to his cock. The pull of the rope burnt the skin of your wrists as he took you harder, your body lurching against the restraints with each snap of his hips. Joel tugged your body backward, shifting your legs until you were forced to bend at the waist. Words wouldn’t form on your lips, and you dissolved into a heap of wailing cries as he plunged deeper into you.

“Where’s all that loudmouthin’ now?” Joel grunted, his fingers bruising your hips. “So fuckin’ cock drunk y’can’t even speak?”

Your silence only drove him crazier, his speed quickening mercilessly. The ache inside your core was all-consuming, a burning wildfire inside your stomach. You dropped your head between your shoulders and dug your nails into your palms, keeping yourself grounded.

“Joel,” you gasped. “Please.”

You failed in your attempts not to beg this man, throwing everything to the wayside as you succumbed to the pulsing ache between your legs.

“Shut up, brat,” he snapped.

“Joel!” You sobbed. “I’m gonna—fuck—please. I need to—to…”

The words turned to ash on your tongue as he snaked a hand around your body, his fingers drawing circles over your swollen clit. You yelped at the roughness of his fingers, the sensation alone nearly causing your legs to buckle beneath you. If it weren’t for the ropes holding you firmly in place, you would have fallen to the ground.

“Poor thing,” he crooned in your ear. “Y’wanna cum? Is that what you want?”

Another drive of his hips. Another draw of his fingers. Tormenting movements that kept you on the edge of ecstasy and suffering. Your arousal pooled down your inner thighs, mixing with the sticky sweat that clung to every inch of your skin.

“I need it, Joel,” you gasped. “Christ, please!”

“Y’gonna change your mind?”

“N—.”

Joel pinched your clit between his fingers, and your words drowned out under a helpless wail falling from your lips. He pulled you back by your hair, winding it around his fist as he drew his lips down your neck. The sweltering touch of his mouth on your skin and his rough fingers on your sensitive bud were enough to topple you closer to the edge. The furnace igniting inside your stomach wouldn’t stop any time soon, but you still wouldn’t give up. He was always going to be wrong, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction.

“Say it, darlin’. Say the words, and y’can cum all over my cock.”

“Never,” you panted. “Never gonna—.”

He pistoned into you, his cock spearing deeper and deeper, completely paralyzing you. Sobs wracked through your body as you took every thrust, and your mind began to float off into a blissed-out haze that drowned out the noise behind you.

“Gonna own all this fuckin’ land,” Joel gritted out. “Own it just like I own this fuckin’ pussy.”

Please. Please. You weren’t sure if you repeated the words inside your mind or aloud; either way, Joel only huffed a laugh and continued with his repetitive assaults on your body. Your orgasm began barreling toward you, your core fluttering around him as it sparked beneath your skin. Everything inside you tensed up, and your jaw went slack with an outward cry as you slipped under the rapid release coursing inside your body.

“Oh fuck!” You sobbed. “Fuck… fuck… fuck!”

Your sex clenched around Joel so hard he choked on a breath, his body rigid against yours as you spasmed beneath his hold. Hot, wet streams of your orgasm drenched his cock as he tore through your orgasm with shallow thrusts. Jole rammed into you over and over again until another wave of pleasure slammed into your body.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he hissed. “Never said y’could cum, did I?”

His hand vanished from your waist and returned to the welted skin of your ass with a resounding smack. There wasn’t enough air in your lungs to cry out, nor any more tears to shed. You hung against the ropes, limp and pliant, as he took you with abandon.

With another snap of his hips against yours, Joel spilled into you, his release filling you to the brim as he released a carnal groan. You could barely lift your head to look back at him as he untangled his fingers from your hair and pulled away.

Every atom inside your body was pulsing with overstimulation, your ass welted and bruised, and your throat raw from screaming. The constant thrum of your heartbeat in your ears smothered the sound of Joel’s belt buckle clanging together, the warmth of his body far removed from yours as you stood on tired legs. Moments passed without a single touch, and you wondered if Joel would leave you there tied to the rack and dripping with cum.

“Think y’learned your lesson now?” He asked, his voice sounding far away.

All you could do was wag your head in protest, your eyes pinned down to the floor, fixated on the pool of saliva that had fallen from your lips. Joel appeared beside you, his grey hair dissolved and face red from exertion. He worked at unclasping the rope from the hook, unbinding your wrists until your arms fell limp to your sides. Your body was weightless without the stability of the rope, and you fell forward, anticipating the impact against the cement. Joel was quicker, though, winding a strong arm around your front and holding you up.

“Easy now, darlin’,” he whispered softly. “Easy.”

Your fingers wrapped around his arm, clinging to anything to escape the impending collapse of your entire body. Your boots scruffed against the cement of the stall, kicking dust into the air around you. With his arm still braced around your chest, he used the other to guide your shorts back up your legs and onto your hips. You hissed as the denim rubbed against your ass, the swell of your skin still prickling with pain no matter how brief the touch was.

“Can y’stand on your own?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled.

“Attagirl.”

Yet as he released your body, you staggered forward, grasping onto the tie rack for support. Joel waited until you found your balance and offered a hand. You were hesitant but relented silently. He took your wrists in one large hand and began massaging at the reddened skin, working out any tension left from the rope. You stared blankly at him, watching a crease burrow between his eyebrows. You still hated him, right? Right? Something so minimal shouldn’t make your heart pound against your chest, but there you were, speechless as you watched this rough man touch your skin with a tenderness he had yet shown.

“Suns goin’ down soon,” he muttered, nodding to the sky.

You peered over your shoulder, surprised to see the sun dipping over the horizon. You hadn’t noticed the pinky hue of the sunset while he fucked you, but now you stared at it in wonderment.

“Guess it is,” you sighed. “Y’should get your ass off my property ‘fore it gets too late.”

Joel snorted, glancing up at you through thick lashes. In the dwindling sunlight, his eyes had dissolved from onyx back into a glistening amber color, the flecks of rich brown dancing as he looked at you.

“Stubborn lil’ thing,” he huffed.

He dropped your hands and straightened to his full height. Perspiration coated his button-up, staining it in dark spots as excess beats of sweat still rolled down his muscular neck. You tamed the flyaways of your hair, trying to minimize the obscenity of your look the longer he stood before you. It was no use after what he had done.

“Y’ain’t changin’ your mind, huh?”

“Nope,” you shook your head.

Joel rolled his eyes and shoved a hand into his front pocket. Leaning close, he brought his other hand to your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers brush over your cheek before pulling away.

“Guess I’ll just come back tomorrow and try again.”

“Y’come back here tomorrow, and I’ll shoot you dead, Miller.”

He cracked a grin and began to retreat toward his horse beside the stable. You stood motionless as he mounted the brown mare, slipping the reigns between his hands. Joel gave you a farewell wave before taking off across the flowing fields, his broad figure dissolving into the sunset. You slumped against the wall of the stables, letting your body fall to the ground. A smile slid across your face, taking in the open land before you.

You didn’t give up. It was all still yours.

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yourtamaki · 1 year

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rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind.

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

��no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.”

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets.

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?”

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to.

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

#zoro smut #one piece smut #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #god this has been in my drafts for so long

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sirenscriptures · 6 months

Text

pleasure waves (remastered)

pairing: tengen x hinatsuru x makio x suma x reader

synopsis: after your honeymoon with tengen starts to come to a close, he and his wives plan to make your last night on the beautiful shores of cancun memorable… 4.4k

warnings/notes: fem ! reader, fivesome, soft to rough sex, LOTS of praise and admiration, semi-public sex, size difference/kink, endearment/pet names, tooth-rottingly sweet aftercare, outdoor sex, passionate sex.

* if you recognize this, it’s because it’s a rewrite of an old collab piece from one of my old blogs <3 this may or may not be a mini series in the future, just depends on what feedback i receive ! *

a warm, kissing breeze passed over you as you stepped out onto the shore’s opening. all the noise and commotion coming from behind you began to melt into the soothing sound of the waves pushing over the sand.

the sky was stunning, clouds gradient with purple, pink and orange hues. meanwhile, the sun was piercing as it gradually sunk below the horizon, encasing the entire beach area in a warm, dim haze.

now away from the crowded resort, you felt your body relax. your feet planted into the freshly cooling sand, the thin cloth of your bathing suit cover freely dancing within the gentle breeze. with the heat slowly dying down, the near stifling warmth in the air began to fade into a soothing coolness.

behind you back at the large courtyard, there was a bustling crowd watching a large fire show being performed on the side stage. large wand-shaped poles whirled all over like flags around the flashy performers, earning excited cheers as they tossed them up and the flames continued to swirl over them.

at some point, you had lost hinatsuru somewhere in the crowd. the two of you had just gotten back early from a dinner with tengen, makio and suma, and wanted to get a head start on enjoying the last bits of the resort on your last night here.

even though the place was beautiful in and out, you had to admit the wide clearing the shore offered right outside of the resort was your personal favorite part. even if there were people all around, the serenity of the crashing waves and clear winds made it seem like pure solitude for you.

“there you are.” a familiar soft voice from behind you silenced your thoughts.

turning around, your eyes met with hinatsuru again. her thick hair flowed down her shoulders, warm violet eyes locked upon you now. seeing her in front of you now caused you to smile.

she was dressed in a lilac and white floral pattern bathing suit cover, one that was a similar style to yours. underneath, the wind kicked up to reveal her dark purple two piece that hugged her body perfectly. truly, she was a sight to behold. as she always was.

“i was certain i lost you in there,” she took your hand into hers, gently grasping it, gaze turning to the sight of the now dying sun on the shore in front of the both of you. “good thing i know this area well by now.” she chuckled.

you admired the softness of her palm intertwining with yours. the two of you stood together, watching the gentle waves roll by as night fell over the sky.

slowly, her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to her. the rhythmic, whispering crashes of the shore kept both of you practically hypnotized in your embrace.

it was amazing to think such clear waters and light air could have such a beautiful affect on you and all the people here. it was almost as if this entire shore, this entire city was something alike to a dream. which made sense, due to all the people who came here every year for vacation.

yet, your reason to be here felt so much more special than anything else. being married, especially to tengen and three beautiful ladies, was a different type of love.

it felt deeper, and certainly more adventurous than any other relationship you’d been apart of. even after the wedding, which was relatively private, it was a lot for you to get situated with.

even though you felt like you were finally breaking through the ice and getting used to being with all four of them, there was still something lingering inside you. something that just wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times you tried. a nagging feeling of what you could best describe as anxiety.

even if you did feel good and relaxed around them, especially during this amazing week vacation, there was always something you felt you were unnecessarily worried about. as if something was missing, or just not right within your mind.

while you knew it could just be overlapping thoughts, it still didn’t stop you from lying wide awake at night, even with both of tengen’s arms snaked around you, his other wives sound asleep next to you as well.

it took you a few moments to notice hina staring at you as you zoned out into your thoughts, a visibly concerned look dressing her expression.

her hands slipped up beneath your chin, hands directing your face to look at her.

“are you alright?” she asked, feeling how the heat increased in your cheeks. “you’ve barely said a word since dinner.”

you let out a small sigh. it’d be no good to just nod and say yes at this point. she knew you too well for that by now.

“i just haven’t felt my best, specifically today.” you admitted.

her hands lowered to grasp your own, tilting her head curiously. “how so, love?”

your eyes averted, glimpsing the early sprout of the full moon deep in the horizon ahead of you. it was near splintering to try and voice your feelings, yet you knew you had to. otherwise, this feeling would only fester onwards.

“well, i know its early on…but i don’t really feel like i’m really married to you.”

hinatsuru’s taken aback expression that followed your words was what made you panic instantly.

“n-not that i don’t want to be married to you! that’s not it at all! i just don’t feel completely–”

you were interrupted by her laughter, hina playfully swatting at you. she abruptly cleared her throat and met your confused expression with a soothing smile.

“[name], you’re too cute..” she murmured, stroking your now burning face with familiar tenderness. even if it was amusing, she remained with a certain seriousness, even with such a gentle personality.

“you know that’s normal, right?” she said, thumb gently stroking the surface of your cheekbone. “i can tell you, since i felt that exact same way when i first married tengen.”

you shot her a confused look. out of what you’d seen, her and tengen’s bond seemed to be so deep. even though he adored every single one of you the same, he and hina were another kind of bond that you didn’t even fully understand when first getting together with them. then again, you figured that would come with time.

“i never quite knew why, but it never felt real.” she said, turning to look at the dazzling moon above you now, its light glittering upon the water.

“it felt a little isolating and even scary at first, but that was normal at the time.” she turned back, still smiling at you. “you’re still so new to this. so don’t stress yourself out for not feeling all there.”

it was like a completely different weight had lifted off of you now that she’d said that. you couldn’t help but smile at her, your hands intertwining together again. it all made so much sense now, thankfully.

“there’s my girls!” you heard a familiar, booming voice call from behind you both.

turning around, you glimpsed tengen and makio walking towards you both, suma dashing ahead of them through the sand to come greet you.

suma’s eyes were lit up with that same fiery excitement as she ran towards you both, arms bundling you and hina in a large embrace. the three of you were left giggling at the sight, struggling to recompose yourselves.

though, suma pulled back with a slight pouty look on her face.

“now why did you head off without us?” she asked, hands now on her hips. “you know this is a honeymoon, meaning we’re supposed to be spending time together!”

“oh, give them a break, suma. can you blame them? this view is incredible!” makio exclaimed, eyes wide with amazement as she looked at the sky. “plus, we’ve had all week together.”

suma admired the view with a smile. “i guess you’re right, then.” she rolled her eyes playfully.

“well, it's our turn to enjoy it now!” she chuckled, running ahead to enjoy the rush of the shore alongside makio, where they proceeded to remove their bathing suit covers and venture deeper into the shore together.

you glanced back behind you, eyes meeting with tengen’s. he stood in front of you and hina, that same handsome smile across his lips. his longer hair was barely past his shoulders, giving him that naturally scruffy look you loved so much.

he leaned down suddenly, hands bringing your face to his, kissing you warmly. the gesture admittedly took you by surprise, the warmth rushing to your face again.

tengen pulled away gently, eyes still staring into yours with a soft intensity, paired with something else you couldn’t quite read at the moment.

“how are you?” he asked quietly, thumb gently rubbing against your cheek.

“i’m good.” you murmured in response, trying to suppress the tremble in your voice.

beside you, hinatsuru was smiling tenderly at you two. even if you were still struggling to find your true place of balance with them, she trusted it would all melt away tonight. after all, they had all arranged for this night to be all about you, the new wife.

but, you didn’t need to know that. not yet, at least.

the whole time the other two wives messed about in the shore, tengen had you wrapped in his arms as hina laid snuggled beside you both. being the new wife, they wanted to make sure you were prioritized, especially on the last night of the honeymoon.

the sound of the gentle waves paired with the darkness of the sky was so soothing. you could feel yourself practically melting into tengen’s chest as you laid on top of him.

he smiled down at you. “you look so good in that bathing suit,” he murmured.

you gushed at his sweet words as his hand tenderly stroked your inner thigh.

“you really know my style by now.” you replied.

he hummed gently, fingers running through your hair. that familiar mischievous glint appeared back in his eyes as he admired you. one of his calloused hands momentarily tilted your head up by your chin, warm breath on your cheek.

“it’s too bad i’ll have to tear it off you.” he teased directly in your ear.

slowly, his hands begin to wander even more. from your thighs to your waist, he made sure to thoroughly caress every part of your body. his hands seemed so large compared to practically all of you.

thinking about how much strength he had, he could simply wrap a single arm around you and be able to carry you perfectly anywhere he wanted. you were so delicate that it was obvious when he was holding back when touching you. it was so easy for someone of his size to accidentally hurt you if he were being careless, which he was the complete opposite of, thankfully.

you felt your breath hitch as his hands traveled to your protruding nipples, pinching them in between his fingers slightly. his large fingers kneaded carefully around your areolas, admiring how his touch made you squirm against him.

you let out a small whimper, his hands proceeding to massage and grasp at every part of you that he could. the more you responded to his touches, the more he wanted to do to you. in the midst of laying with two of his women, tengen had honestly forgotten that there was a chance anyone could walk by and see, even though this was a more private side of the shore.

“tengen…be gentle with her.” hina spoke softly, her hand interlocking with yours from behind you.

even though you only caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of your eye before she positioned herself closer to you, you swore you could see a flash of protectiveness, or…was that envy in her eyes? you never knew hinatsuru of all people had a territorial side such as this.

“she’s our new jewel, after all.” she said proudly, eyes glimmering within coming into contact with yours.

suddenly, her lips collided with yours. while this wasn’t the first time she’d done this to you, it always managed to send a plethora of sensations through you. this was especially prevalent now, for you had to hold back a staggered moan when her soft lips mashed against yours.

she tasted so sweet. with her tongue slipping in and out of your mouth, you could feel your mind blurring as if the amount of pleasure had given you some sort of fever. honestly, you wouldn't be surprised at this point if you’d caught a temperature.

hina pulled away from you eventually, her warm gaze greeting you once more with that same sweet smile. at the same time, tengen’s hands continued to roam your body, the same smirk lacing his lips.

you could feel your entire body heating up even more. having the both of them praise and caress you at the same time was almost overwhelming, yet you relished the feeling and how it began to leave a generous slick of fluid within your bathing suit bottoms.

tengen chuckled in response, turning your face back to his. now, you could really glimpse the hungry expression forming in his gaze.

“yes, she is…so precious too.”

his lips once again interlocked with yours, tongue teasing the inside of your mouth. his kiss was much heavier than hina’s, the intensity of it managing to make you let out a choked moan. meanwhile you could feel her hands from behind you taking to massage your breasts, her tender lips laying kisses along your neck.

you knew very well this whole time you were making him wait. this whole trip, you’d been so nervous around him. as if you weren’t already married to him, and like it was the first time you’d met him. you’d acted the same way in front of the wives from time to time. but it was much more intense around tengen.

but now, he craved to see your true wild side. what was it like to see you in your messiest, loveliest form? you could tell hina and possibly makio and suma would want the same.

they had only one way to find out, and what better way to do it on the most romantic beach at night?

“well well, starting without us?” makio’s voice sounded from above you. her playful smirk was directed right at you, marveling at how you were already a melting mess in between them.

suma was behind her by a few steps, peeking down at you with an aroused curiosity. “as always.” she scoffed, half-jokingly.

looking up at them, they were dripping wet from the shore that was now whispering away in the distance. you could see the sun’s golden hue beginning to cast ripples of color over the darkening water as it slowly set, the cool air fully sweeping over with the moonlight beginning to sneak in.

but you had every night to see that sunset on this vacation. what really caught your attention were the two wives in front of you. they looked so beautiful as always, just even more so now. the slight golden glow of the disappearing sun emitted a beautiful hue on their mostly bare bodies that seemed to shine with droplet marks from the sea. while suma was more bashful and trying to cover herself, makio stood unabashed with her hand on her hip, wrinkled bikini top dangling out of her hand.

tengen glared at them with the same playfulness, hands not stopping from running all over you.

“don’t complain, you just weren’t paying proper attention,” he teased. “you’re here now, after all.”

suddenly, he began to sit up, gently guiding you to do the same. tengen’s hands remained on your hips, leaning himself close to your face.

“sit and face me.” he murmured.

you immediately obeyed. now sitting in front of him, your gaze pointed up at him like you were awaiting his next command.

he shook his head at you, amused. “on my lap, princess.”

even though you were growing shaky, you obeyed. now straddling him, you gently rested your arms on his broad shoulders for a little bit of support.

you watched as he undid his robe, revealing his enthralling muscles. even if you already knew what he looked like shirtless, this was even more of an amplifying experience.

you could see how there was a faint remainder of the oil previously lathered on his skin at the beginning of the day gleaming on his skin. you could see every faint scar and mark of his perfectly displayed for you to admire. though it was futile to just stare in silence, since your awe-struck expression caused him to chuckle, even earning a slight giggle from hina and the others.

“see something you like?” he chuckled, hands running up your bare waist.

before you could react properly, you felt makio’s hand from behind you abruptly untie the string of your bikini top in a singular motion, taking advantage of you being distracted. the initial gesture caused you to jump.

“wait—!”

before you could stop it, the thin fabric had already fallen to the ground. the heat in your body now felt blistering as you were almost completely revealed, especially out in the open like this.

as you initially scrambled to cover yourself, tengen stopped you, a dazed yet still focused look in his eyes. you could almost see every want of his coming to light now. every craving, every ache he’d had for you and your body was becoming so clear now.

“don’t.” he said gruffly, placing your hands back where they were.

“you look so pretty, hun.” makio purred from behind you, embracing you by your upper waist, her lips grazing against the back of your neck.

“why would you ever want to hide this?” she admired everything from your thighs to your breasts, making you shiver even with her lightest touches.

you let out a whimper as makio continued. as if it weren't enough, both suma and hinatsuru now moved even closer to you. at this point, it was all such a collective blur that all you could feel was their hands touching you, without being able to discern who exactly was touching what in the moment.

desperately, you started to grind down on tengen’s erection through the thin cloth of your bikini. even with the slight separation, you could feel just how big he was growing beneath you. his gaze was still so focused, even though you could feel his breath growing even more labored on your skin.

though, you swear you could feel hina’s eyes burning into you. even as she patiently watched you, inside she was reeling at how good you looked. so entranced and in a pure, euphoric state. this is all she wanted for you, for you to experience the best pleasure from all of your lovers at once.

you couldn’t even gather what had happened in between, but the sound that dragged you from a near pleasure-drunken state was the sound of fabric ripping. looking down, you saw the mangled pieces of your suit bottoms in tengens hands, effortlessly ripped away to reveal your ass, along with your now soaked cunt.

before you could even move, you let out a gasp as you flinched, feeling makio’s fingers swipe over your slick wetness, admiring how a generous amount of it glistened on her fingertips.

“well, what do we have here?” makio teased. being the closest to tengen, she extended her hand to him, a knowing look in her eyes.

you could feel yourself pulsing as he took her fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping up all of your fluids from her fingers. from there, something was set ablaze in him that even he wasn’t fully prepared for.

“shit…” tengen groaned under his breath. his fingers dug into your hips, lips beginning to leave a trail of kisses on your neck. his breath was rough and hot, teeth occasionally sinking in and marking you up as he pleased.

throwing your head back, you could feel everything from his shaft rubbing against your folds, to your wives’ hands roaming and groping you all over. some were in your hair, some squeezing your ass, and some even snaking around your stomach to tease your sensitive bud.

in the midst of the entanglement, you could glimpse hina kissing up your stomach, or what of it she could manage to get in contact with while your husband suckled at your sore nipples.

her eyes had the same look of craving that tengen had—but it was so much softer. she gently caressed your face in her hands as she admired your beauty again. once more, her lips collided with yours. through her kisses, you could feel yourself instinctively squeeze your thighs together as your tongues teased one another.

in between hot kisses, you heard her say ‘i love you’ which almost made you tip over the edge, until tengen caught your attention once again. either way, there was no way you were cumming only once tonight.

you could see he was getting restless now. his hands were starting to leave deeper marks on your hips, and it was evident he wanted all of you to himself now. laying you down beneath him, the wives knew to leave him some space. they still remained close, of course.

seeing as you were already trembling and even had a few tear streaks staining your face, your wives and husband did their best to make sure you were fully relaxed.

while tengen let his cock rest at your entrance, he slowly massaged your lower pelvic area with care. hina and suma were above you: suma taking to massaging your tense shoulders and hina gingerly running her fingers through your hair. meanwhile, makio worked her hands into massaging your legs and feet.

he smiled softly down at you, the tip naturally plunging in slightly due to how wet you were. his hand caressed your face, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“take a deep breath, baby.” he said, face close to yours now. “i’ll start slow, okay?”

you could only meekly nod at him as suma and hina both held onto each of your hands now.

he let out a low groan as he almost immediately slipped balls-deep into you. your head threw back, a shaky cry escaping your lips as he was already stretching you out so much. you could feel your legs trembling uncontrollably, as you were already so close to an orgasm.

even though his starting thrusts were slow, you could feel them pick up quite fast. you could almost feel how pent up he’d been with each thrust.

tengen drove himself further into you by lifting you into a mating press, the slaps from his thrusts getting louder the faster he pounded into you. in response, your hands messily grasped around his neck, struggling to find your balance as his length fucked deeper and deeper into you.

“tengen…s’feels so good,” you slurred, the slapping only getting faster the closer you grew.

with the way you tightened around him, he could only respond with feral moans and growls, words barely stringing together as all he could think about was making you come.

“that’s my angel…taking me so well,” he panted, thrusts now growing sloppy as you clenched around him even more, your breasts bouncing with his rhythm.

his eyes, while set ablaze with something so primal, still managed to have that soft undertone to them as he looked at you. it was so clear how much he adored you, and he would make it known. he let his fingers dig back into your tender flesh, ready to spill everything he had to give inside of you.

his forehead was against yours now, both of your moans breaking up into shaky, desperate noises.

“cum for me, sweetheart,” he hissed passionately, the final thrusts becoming so deep you swear you felt like you were about to burst.

“show me that you’re mine.”

it only took a few more pumps of his cock inside of you before you cried out, louder than you ever had before. your climax had caused almost full-body convulsions, and you didn’t think you’d be able to function properly if it weren’t for your wives soothing you.

you still remained laying on your back for a while, letting hinatsuru wipe the hot tears that streaked down your cheeks as suma kissed and massaged your body, and makio helped you get your breathing back to normal.

tengen, while still in a daze himself, still fetched you cold water and wasn’t about to let you walk back to the resort. come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t let you walk for a while after this.

after a while, the group of you sat out on the shore admiring the crashing of the waves along with the beautiful stars that now blanketed the night sky.

you laid with your lovers, head resting against tengen’s chest while your wives surrounded you in a sort of “pile” of cuddling. of course, hina was closest to you, her head resting on one of your shoulders.

“I think that was a pretty good trip, hm?” tengen asked, smiling specifically at you.

you could only give an exhausted smile, hand rubbing against one of his arms that surrounded your waist.

makio let out a yawn. “it’s only good if we can stay here forever.” she sighed dreamily, resting her head on one of his shoulders. tengen chuckled, laying a kiss on her forehead.

you glanced towards hina, a sleepy figure of suma rested against her thigh. hina looked back at you sweetly, her hand rubbing over yours.

“do you feel better?”

you couldn’t help but giggle a little, thinking of how different you felt a couple hours ago compared to now.

“so much better.” you murmured, circling your thumb over her hand.

the smile you gave hina in that moment seemed to solve something within herself she even didn’t know needed solving. she figured it was because you and her lovers brought her so much peace, which was something she always found herself needing more of in her life.

after a honeymoon like this, all of you collectively felt like nothing could ever come close to this moment: watching the stars with your lovers as the waves crash in the distance.

#demon slayer smut #tengen x wives x reader #tengen uzui smut #⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚 — sea’s scriptures #tengen uzui x reader #hinatsuru x reader #demon slayer x female reader #uzui smut #makio uzui #suma uzui #hinatsuru uzui #kny smut #kny x reader #☾ — nightly yearning

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kooyabooya · 22 days

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SECRETS & SPELLS

m reader x kazuha ; sakura // 14k words

“Really,” and you’re saying this with the most unimpressed look on your face, knowing Sakura’s bullshit could never get to you that easily, “And here I thought we had something special going on between us,” you tell her with a gesture of a hand, signifying the rapport.

She laughs at that, because deep down you’ll put up with her antics in the end either way. Whether it would be spilling a few drinks down her throat or splitting her open until the crack of dawn breaks into the horizon, you’ll get the last say before she does. Always.

“Do tell,” says Sakura, “Besides, you’ve got my number on speed dial.”

It’s actually a pretty funny thing how the sacred law of attraction works in these kinds of scenarios; at least, that’s what you’ve learned when Sakura barged into your life from completely out of nowhere. This might come off as unexpected: you’re the TA for one of the design courses, and Sakura happened to be one of the top students in the class with the highest probability to break through into the fashion industry come post-grad.

And at every turn since the beginning of the semester, she has managed to impress you amazingly.

Everything’s all lighthearted at the first meeting - the usual buzz about this stellar connection you have with Sakura - and she feels the same sentiment. The feedback is subtle; the compliments start to pile on one another; you’re noticing features in her appearance that might be falling into the obvious scope of things, but you take note of them either way.

Wasn’t that long until you’ve mustered up the courage to treat her out after she came to you for additional advice and pointers and such from one of her personal projects. Although the first date was an absolute train wreck to your standards, she was willing enough to come back around for more.

One meeting happens again, and another.

Then the next one.

And the next one.

The weeks start to mesh together aside from all the usual routines and responsibilities filling up your schedule and calendar. But you’ve managed to set time aside whenever possible because that’s all part of having fun with someone like her. And sure, you’re waiting for that Friday to hit every time because it relieves you of anything for a short period; it’s also safe to say that you’re not the only one.

So you learn a lot of things about Sakura. More ways than you would like.

And it’s not even worth blaming the lowered inhibitions due to the alcohol. A test drive of sorts, the natural course of thoughts coming out from your brain and channeling that to your words and actions whenever you’re around her, there’s that appreciation in the honesty - wondering where has this girl been all your life?

Because Sakura falls in a lot of ways. Ways that you would never have expected:

“For one thing,” you’re telling her while being roped deeper into the club by her hand, “I don’t think the number 1-800-hot-n-fun was a viable one to go with, by the way.” She twists her head around once getting past the foyer, opening up from the inside to scattered crowds spaced away from the dance floor. As expected for a Friday night to no surprise - the thrumming of your eardrums in response to the overpowering bass proving a clear struggle in terms of discernibility.

“Do I have to remind you again?” Sakura tells you, loosening the grip as you’ve managed to get in close proximity, unfazed when your body is practically on top of hers, passing through the crowd, “We’re doing that thing with Miss ‘you - know - who’. Unless you’re asking me to just leave your ass back in the apartment, but oh wait - you're already here with me as it is.”

“Sure.” And that’s how things like these usually go with her: you’ll be doing one thing, then the familiar contact on your phone pops up on your lockscreen. Some days you’d drop whatever you were doing in a heartbeat - if it was willing to kill time or procrastinate, she’d know your answer already. “Drop the code name. You’re not being really inconspicuous with-”

“Kazuha? But it fits the profile perfectly!” She’s beaming, exchanging a few glances with some regulars hovering outside the dance floor, her face lighting up with wide eyes andan open an open mouth.

“But seriously,” you say, and with as much sarcasm that you could pull out of your ass, “I thought that was a one-time thing with her.” Sakura rolls her eyes, spearheading to one of the booths on the far end of the dance floor, secluded in a suspicious corner where no one else would end up unless being escorted off with enough shots in their system to do so in the first place.

And you learn - with Sakura, nothing is ever a one time thing with her. Ever. She brought you into a trap, the kind where you couldn’t even get out of if you tried.

Like all necessary cues for an entrance, this one doesn’t really have a notable introduction since you’re the one that’s interested without actually saying it explicitly. The lone girl sitting in the booth catches your eye, spacing out with the colorful floating lights occasionally hitting her face as she appears to be breaking a sweat despite her stoic expression.

She looks nervous, probably flustered at the fact that she’s even in the dance club considering how flushed her face looks without the color. You look over to Sakura, to which she smiles with her eyes, already feeling the stage being set for what’s to come.

“You sure you want to leave this as a one - off?” She asks, combing down some of her hair while waving at the girl in the booth. “Think of this as a chance to redeem yourself with her - her - I mean, me.”

“Not everything has to be about you. Acting as the lynchpin when you also want to join in on the fun as well.”

Sakura nicks her head, that prying grin coming at the corner where you can’t see it up front. She studies your features, the way your face crinkles at every remark or sly comeback that leaves her lips, priming those synapses ready and raring for how she wants this night to go. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen. It worked last time, and it’ll work again.”

With all thoughts considered, it all leads to one inevitable conclusion:

“I’d love for you to work her over again, like you did before,” she husks, lazily placing her lips along the line of your jaw. The nerve ends down your neck and spine tingling at the contact as your feet move along with hers, approaching closer to the lone girl waiting at the table, locking irises and noticing her pulled lip. “And just for your information, she’s so into you.”

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around with him?” Kazuha butts in, sliding over a subtle appetizer of some casual chips and assorted dips; the duo of Arnold Palmers is also quick to follow soon after. “I mean, you’re the one who likes to kiss everybody, Sakura.”

“Not true,” she rebukes. “But I-”

“If you want to test that theory,” you’re telling the both of them, smiling with eyes trained alternating on looks, sipping a bit of the beverage down, “I think both of you would be convinced to take this somewhere that allows more misbehavior to happen.”

It’s not that you’re not able to remember the events of last night. It’s the fact that you can’t remember what took place last night at all.

Though your memory starts to stir back to normal at the floating pair of lips hovering over and around your face in the late morning going into the afternoon.

You’re squinting from the overbearing light that breaks through the curtains and and the ambient sounds of traffic in the distance from the open window. There’s also the realization that the mobility in your body is severely hammered, and with good reason.

A look up past the sheets, and it’s a body pressed next to yours, sprawled with an arm and leg thrown over your thigh and stomach, still trying to be mindful in care not to wake you. She looks up at you with doe eyes before fluttering them shut and nestling deeper into the side of your chest, rubbing her hand across the more she gets comfortable.

“About time you woke up,” she mumbles, giggling at you, plopping your head back onto the pillow. “I was wondering if you were actually dead or something, not that I would be worried of course.”

“And if I was?” The question alone is alone is rhetorical as it sounds, blinking up towards the ceiling while adjusting your body meshed into the mattress and in between the sheets, “I feel like you could’ve put in a little more effort to, well, bring me back to life.”

This girl then sits up, lets the comforter trickle down to her waist, exposing her breasts; the marks still apparent from the night prior, serving to be a good kickstarter for your memory now that most of the alcohol should’ve subsided by now. “Maybe I should’ve put more effort into that, the same way that you handled us,” she tells you, “God, you really don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

“Sakura,” you say, and you’re calling her out with a soft laugh bubbling beneath your stomach.. “I’d hate to be honest with you, but I can’t even remember the amount of drinks we had at the place. That’s how you know it’s bad if you were in my shoes.”

“But you were still sober enough to dick me down after a long week?”

You don’t give an answer to Sakura’s question, but the way her actions do the talking should already say enough: placing kisses on your shoulder, shuffling herself closer to you, hand slithering to a certain spot where it’s also jogging your memory.

“Sweetie,” you tell her, a dragged - out sigh leaving your lips once Sakura’s practiced fingers start to touch down around your half-hardened cock. “You wouldn’t mind helping me remember what we did last night, right?”

Well, of course, she’d say, but instead she laces that phrase in the form of a kiss. Knowing her, she’d be willing to assist in whatever it is that you do. A transactional service: you do one thing for her and she’d do the same. And the repayment could really come in a handful of methods, but this one usually takes top of the list.

“I don’t,” Sakura answers, giggling softly when you’re trying to push for more, leaning your head to meet her lips, her pulling away just to play a little tease. “As much as I would love to help you, I can’t be the only one to do all the work around here. It tarnishes your gentlemanly appearance, but that’s what I think.”

You pull one of her legs up, shifting her closer to you when she has her lips working you again, hand twisting deliberately around your cock. The pace alone is strategic and slow, but very well practiced and methodical, licking up her palm to ensure she’s soaking up the sensitive surface in every spot possible.

She also takes the hint with the sliding hand up her waist, straddling over your thighs to where you’re almost pinned against the headboard, grip still apparent around your shaft, keeping steady the more she scooches her hips up beneath your groin. You get lost in the valley of her waist, the defined abs well deserved from the hard work in the gym, the gaze she possesses with those lovely, messy locks in her hair, the pure seductiveness with her hand grazing her breast. You’re being pulled back in with another intoxicating kiss, filled with so much care and and love, and all of that to be replaced with undesirable lust that seems to entrap both of you like the heavenly light breaking through the thin curtains in your room.

The taste, the scent of her - still present from last night’s tales - are another reminder and trick for your mind to work around against the lingering after effects of the alcohol.

“Is it working?” She asks, holding herself just above your length with hands fast around your neck, “Or do you still need some help getting your memory up to speed?”

Sakura then reaches over to the nightstand, a Polaroid captured in between her pointer and middle finger, eyes slanted along with her face, watching you examine the picture in the small snapshot. Another fragment is obtained through this, internalizing the appearance of her marked - up body sprawled up on the same bed you’re lying in, with another body next to her but the face isn’t shown.

Just as you’re about to say your answer, she catches you by surprise, the press of her lips on you again, hips jumping up in impulse when her pussy settles on top of the underside of your shaft, hands naturally trained to her hips as the slow pecks eventually become more inviting, passionate.

Maybe the home remedies would’ve been a sufficient option to cure your hangover, but with Sakura, she herself is the best kind of morning after pill that you’ll take the chance over if the opportunity presents itself like it has right now. Her kisses become more intoxicating, hoping that you’ll want her in the same fashion that she’s emitting - a being that’s blessed with a wanting so addicting, it’s impossible to think twice about it. Your mouth makes its way down the fine column of her throat and then to her chest, marking up the same spots as you did the night before, tugging onto one of her stiff nipples with your teeth.

The grip in your hair with her fingers starts to become tighter, forcing her body onto you more. She holds you there, cheek pressed to the crown of your head, the moans proving to be positive feedback for you, grinding her hips slightly over your cock, making your grasp more protective of her, as if you didn’t want her to leave your presence whatsoever.

She captures your lips again, hands now on both ends of your face, humming in approval when yours find their way to her ass, clawing your fingertips on the soft skin, setting the tempo of how her pussy lips glide across your cock, bathing it in her slick, and a small feeling of what’s to come in the passing minutes. Her teeth clash with yours on accident, laughing as she scaffolds her kisses down to your cheek, to the pulsepoint, on your trap, biting lightly as a proud badge of honor. Pulling away, she bites her lip, placing another kiss before pressing you back to the wall.

“Saku,” you sputter, gasping out when her hips slide forward, pressing herself down on your cock that tenses all of the muscles in your legs, straightening them out beneath the sheets for a moment. “Fuck, you–”

“Shh,” she says, finger on your lips.. “It’s helping a lot, right?” Her hand sliding down your chest, nails grazing across your skin riddled with goosebumps, probably because of how cold the room has gotten but at the same time how the heat between your two continues to build up. “I gave you two hints already, so do what you will with that.”

“I think it is coming together,” you say, puppy dog eyes in amazement with how Sakura keeps your chin tilted up while the movement of her hips hypnotizes you. “But seriously, holy fuck, I-”

Sakura pays no attention to your spills of cutoff praise, a moan from her lips and yours let out in unison when she rubs her clit right at the tip, hunching her back over, your face getting caught between the figurative net that is her tits, drawing another mark with your teeth and soothing it after with the flat plane of your tongue.

If she’s not careful, this right amount of pressure from her pussy over your aching cock might spell disaster for you before even getting started with resuming last night's activities. Her body is already becoming a live wire to feed off on; the taste and how responsive she’s been so far, you’ll play into it for as long as she allows it.

Luckily, she knows your body well enough as hers, stopping herself as she scooches down. The trail of kisses coming back with the first couple scattering their way down from your lips, cheeks, and neck, now down to the chest. Every touch of her lips across the canvas of your body only sends your mind deeper into that endless barrel of delusion and madness from the fantasies you’ve discovered with Sakura.

It might also be worth mentioning how she substituted her pussy for her hand again, dainty fingers well placed around your shaft again, pulling it upwards as she buries herself beneath the sheets, lips now planting kisses at the hip and down to the thigh, then turning her attention to your twitching cock.

You could feel the muscles in your ass clench underneath her body, watching with the comforter raised up to hide her from the open doorway, focused on how her breath grazes along your underside, carefully working her way up to place a chaste kiss to your tip, her tongue getting the first tastes of her favorite snack, swallowing the head first.

She then inches down a bit, pulling herself up and out, tongue swirling and well trained. The feeling settles in static breaths, watching her be grateful for the reward she’s worked hard for in the short span of time. Her head lowers for another second, you lift your hips up to meet in the middle for her, and she stares at you with glossy eyes.

The comforter gets lowered as your hands find themselves onon Sakura’s wrists.

“Saku,” you groan automatically. Sakura’s eyes flutter in approval when she slides her puckered lips further down your length. The tiny press of her perfect lips, her tongue again slathering up the underside again, tracing a vein.

Her hand finds itself at the base, building up a rhythm in her bobs that you’re all too familiar with. Tongue and the opening past her mouth and into the throat, moving in every move imaginable that she knows that you love and like.

And it’s also this double-edged sword - a blessing or curse on her terms, how the vibrations coming from her vocal cords wrap around your cock whilst in her mouth, letting you know how ravishing you are for her cravings.

“Keep the comforter over me.” Sakura commands, purring. Mixing in the swiping of her tongue as well as the erotic kisses she’s spoiling your cock with. Her head goes sideways, treating to one side of the base, dipping down to take one of your balls in her mouth. She’s also aware of how much you like your blowjobs to be wet, so it’s no surprise when she spits all over your cock, ensuring that no spot was left untouched with her saliva.

You do as she says, letting your hands rest beneath the sheets along with Sakura; the view of the room now opened up past the obstruction, watching as the small bump between your legs indicated Sakura’s head, slowly feeling her head working her way down your cock, gasping when you feel the tip of her nose meet your stomach.

She laughs with a mouthful of cock in her mouth still when she hears the sound of the back of your head hitting the wall, gripping the fuck out of her wrist on your leg to let her know that she’s doing wonders - in addition to the tension in your hips, bucking as she’s putting enough effort to take all of you down her throat, shifting her head side by side with the small chokes minimized with the comforter over her.

The pace comes back, but this time with more variety. A hand is wrapped around your shaft, holding it in one spot while her mouth takes you right at the half, gagging as the suction deepens. She’s managed to have your cock slicked up enough to where her fingers are easy to swivel around, doubling down on the stimulation.

Sakura isn’t one to really be forward when it comes to 'relieving your stress’, but with the amount of practice that she’s had from past experiences,, that thread of thoughts continues to open different avenues to sit on a balcony and ponder on. Earlier this week she felt compelled to have you bust all over her face because of how hot you looked while doing a virtual meeting on the couch; you’re picturing the image in your head - how she looks so good with your lips on you, so practiced, mouth pressuring all the right spots and tongue slicing through a vein and maybe lower.

“Baby, baby, holy shit,” you’re moaning out again, getting a response from Sakura’s filled-up mouth, picturing the furrowed eyebrows and half-lidded eyes beneath the sheets. She moves your hands up from her wrists and into her hair, prompting you to shove the best inches down into her throat, much to the point where you’re nearly sitting upright to do so.

This isn’t something to think too hard about: thrusting your hips into Sakura’s face in the morning - into that sweet heat of her mouth, how her nails are creating crevices in your skin, relaxing her mouth and throat enough to stuff nearly all of your length to that one hole of hers. You know that she could go on with this for as long as you’d like, instinctively helping her part a few stray fringes in her hair without even being able to see it. She’s sometimes worried if you’re hurting yourself with every deepthroat she does to you, assuring that having no gag reflex makes these bits in the whole experience a whole lot more pleasurable.

“Mmph.”

“This fucking mouth of yours, Saku,” you mumble, not paying any care to the increased volume of gags or the purring vibration of her open mouth creating this vacuum within your stomach - since the addicting suction and clench were about to send you into oblivion.

“Mmmmph…”

“God,“ you choke out. One thing you don’t want to accept to yourself or to anyone, for that matter: this was the best fucking way to wake up.

“So fucking good,” she mumbles.

Another thing you’d hate to admit sometimes is the fact that even though you've been restricted from seeing Sakura take in your cock so well underneath the sheets, that’s traded in for how fast you could feel yourself coming undone again. That sense of pride also put you in jeopardy because every lick, plunge, and slip of your length into her mouth was another step in the pattern in transition to holding herself steady. It also doesn’t help that she tilts her head up, poking the head of your cock on the inside of her cheek, swiping the tongue at the underside, and seriously, this woman.

The eerie ringing between your ears starts to pop up randomly, your body getting riddled with every overstimulating feeling being thrown right at it. The slickness in her mouth, the grip around the root becoming too tight, the gags becoming intense - your mouth is hanging low as your eyes begin to roll up to the back of your head. She doesn’t plan on playing it safe, and the edge is rapidly getting to you; it’s too fast, too soon, okay, oh fuck, oh fuck.

“Saki!” a voice calls out past the open door leading into the hallway. “Where the fuck are you?” Shit, the tone sounds awfully familiar, and you also notice the trail of clothes along the floor. Another fragment from last night flashes in your brain; though, you’re trying to keep focus while Sakura’s heat surrounds your cock as you hear the sound of feet scraping along the hardwood floor.

“Saki, I-” The second girl stops short past the door, phone in her hand and hair tousled, but still presentable. She’s wearing your dress shirt from the night before, unbuttoned and parted perfectly enough to where you could see the inner curve of her tits - her long, creamy thighs stand out to you, making your lowered jaw salivate when she cocks her head to the right out of curiosity, hands behind her back with her tongue buried behind her bottom lip. “Well, what do we have here?”

How could you forget? The additional set of clothes on the floor? The lady next to Sakura’s ruined body covered with cum on the Polaroid photo?

Kazuha. Who else but Kazuha?

“Good morning,” you greet, paying no attention to your hands as they appear to be all over the place before settling themselves above the sheets, just adjacent to the subtle bump where Sakura’s bobbing head was located. “I was wondering where you went off to.”

“I couldn’t really sleep, so I thought it would be a good idea to whip up some food to kill time,” says Kazuha, biting her lip at the sight of your hand resting above the oddly shaped form between your legs and underneath the sheets. “You wouldn’t mind if I asked: Where the heck is Saki?”

“Well,” you try to say, pretending to be oblivious while the heat of Sakura’s mouth trails your mind off into dreamland. “I’ll give it to you straight; she’s not here.”

“Uh huh,” Kazuha breathes, unamused. “Really though, where did she go?” She asks, raising herself up on her tiptoes, slowly migrating closer to the edge of the mattress, noticing the heels hanging out of the edge. “I could’ve sworn she was next to you when I woke up.”

“She was,” you reply, keeping that sly smile from breaking out in the frame of your face. “I don’t know if you checked the bathroom if she’s there, but that’s one place to start looking if you ask me.”

Kazuha pays no attention to your answer, only keeping her eyes fixed on the pair of feet at the edge of the matter, palming an area for what appears to be Sakura’s calf, which makes her stop her controlled bobbing around your cock for a moment, stunned at the sudden press of Kazuha’s hand pulling her head back off of your soaked shaft, gulping because she knows that she got caught.

A look under the sheets, and Kazuha laughs, locking eyes with you while the offering of a sheepish grin is all that you could give her. “Really?” she asks, examining beneath the white layer to only see Sakura laying on her stomach, bare ass between your legs while you eventually call the act off, lifting off the sheets to give Kazuha a better look at Sakura’s head buried between your thighs, hand still well gripped into the threads of her hair. “If you guys are going to start the fun without me, then don’t even bother hiding it.”

“We weren't hiding anything at all,” teases Sakura, dipping her head down your cock again that makes you clench at the feeling of her throat.

“Pretty much seems that way to me.” Kazuha retorts.

“Who was the one who woke up early again?”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” You inquire, combing Sakura’s messy hair down while she moves her wrist around your length to occupy herself, causing you to shudder at the delicate touch. “I mean, Jesus, I guess Saku here couldn’t really help herself to me.”

“She’s the worst.” Kazuha declares, slipping out of your dress shirt, now left with nothing but those lacy black pants she slipped on.

“He worked you over; let me remind you,” Sakura replies, bearing a smug grin when she looks over towards you. “You finished on her back, and before that, you finished on me twice.”

The corner of your eye picks up on Kazuha getting back on the bed, shuffling with her knees as she approaches closer to you. You remember again that she’s relatively well known in your circle of friends, considering the fact that she’s one of the four girls that you’re relatively affiliated with around campus. She’s only a year younger than you, but good friends with Sakura (obviously); and there’s also the duo of Chaewon and Yunjin, the pair of them also crazy in their own rights, respectively.

“Your point being?” The question gets both of their attention, exchanging looks when Kazuha finally reaches to you, guiding your hand to her waist and around her back, Sakura placing neat kisses across your obliques, cock still welded to her hand and stroking gently.

“I guess the golden question should be asked again,” says Sakura, bending her neck down to lightly tap the tip of your cock to her pouty lips. “Where do you think you’ll finish today? On our face? Down our throats? Our backs? Or maybe…”

“Maybe…” Kazuha teases, lifting her hands with yours up to her face, rubbing the pad of your thumb across her bottom lips, lightly sucking on it that’s insanely hypnotic. “Maybe he could finish inside us?”

(Sakura and Kazuha: birds of a feather. You can’t fathom with the fact sometimes that they’ll act like angels, dress like crazy, and only have you around to tug the clothes off of them, as they’re babbling listlessly about how you’ll pin one of them down (or both) on the carpet, make paintings with your tongue all over their bodies; the taste of each more exquisite in every round you take them on, fucking them on any article of furniture within reach. )

Kazuha’s not even remotely close to you. You and her are just surface-level friends at best. Heck, she’s only a mere acquaintance in the swing of things, if you want to read deeper into the personal analysis of each other. The only line of connection you have with her is through Sakura. And from the last outing being a solid first impression for all parties involved, you’d laugh to yourself at times because Kazuha could never have enough of you and Sakura.

“Kazuha, sweetie,” Sakura purrs, pulling her head up with a string of spit still attached to her chin. “You’ve had your fill with him already, literally.” And as she says that, you feel all of the muscles and bones in your body practically melt through the mattress beneath you from the overall presence and weight that these two women have. These two perfect dolls - imagining how their bodies will bend and crumple when you bury your cock inside both of them, shutting one up with the other’s cunt over their mouth. Sakura’s mouth has already made you want to test that edge, and with Kazuha’s?

“I think we should let him decide who to dump his cum into, no?” Sakura suggests soon after pulling Kazuha’s body next to hers, allowing you to admire the live Renaissance painting taking place before you. She then pats Kazuha’s shoulders twice, much like something straight out of practice: Kazuha quick to get on top of your waist while Sakura scooches down to hold your cock tried and true back into her mouth, the pleasure instantaneous as Kazuha’s lips find yours for the first time today.

Kazuha’s arms slither over the bridge of your collarbones, letting you indulge in her perky tits, trying to keep your focus on her while Sakura begins to up the ante again in scarfing up your cock.

“I wanted you all to myself when I woke up first,” Kazuha says, tangling her fingers in your hair, softly moaning when you’re leaving sporadic marks all over her tits, capturing your lips again as you involuntary groan into her mouth, to which she receives it incredibly well. “But you were sleeping so soundly, I decided to leave you be.”

You’re also wondering about the different things you had on your to-do list in your phone. Out of all times, why in the hell were you thinking about that now? You’ve got your personal love interest inhaling your cock by the second, with another friend in your arms who’s willing to be your personal fuckbuddy just for the sake of it.

Kazuha’s features break a bit when you’ve got your lips catered to the stiff buts of her nipples, hands wandering across that toned back of hers, tracing the shoulder blades while the grasp in your fingers starts to crunch at the fine skin.

“I think,” she husks, listening to the occasional gags Sakura’s doing on your cock continuously. “Maybe you’ve been wanting my mouth for a bit too now, huh?”

(Well, yeah. I mean-)

Kazuha quickly takes the hint right out of your mind, mirroring the same pathway of kisses that Sakura did not long ago, the same waves of pleasure mixed in with the return of goosebumps spreading across your body, hands still unsure where they play as they’re suspended in the air, giving way as Sakura slips your cock out of her mouth, twisting at the crown once Kazuha meets in the middle.

The gaze they give you, from the both of them, exchanging glances with each other because these two share a brain cell together - that’s the simple assessment to observe when you’re left speechless.

Thank God you cleared your morning from whatever schedule that was initially planned, because it wouldn’t have led to having these two in your bed wanting all of you.

“Do I still have a say in this?’ You attempt to ask, studying how their eyes are full of infectious lust, the creeping grin spreading across their lips. “To be fair, I think I also need to get some morning stretching in before getting on with the morning.”

“Oh, you’ll get your stretching in.” Sakura muses.

“You won’t be saying anything from this point on,” declares Kazuha.

No point in arguing against the pair; the verdict has already been decided.

Sakura slides her hands up across your chest, laying you back down while Kazuha shuffles down to the original spot where Sakura was occupying, eyes drawn to the peek of Kazuha’s tongue on your cock, switching in between kisses and licks.

A difference between Kazuha and Sakura when it came to blowing you: Sakura knew the different kinds of tricks from experimenting in the past couple months - what worked and what didn’t. Kazuha, on the other hand, was just yearning for the taste of you in her mouth, sealing her lips with the right press, eager to pick up where Sakura left off. It shouldn’t be making you feel like putty, but that’s exactly the case when she bottoms your cock out, clenching her throat that makes you twitch at the hip joints.

Sakura gets a hand around your length, tethering you to one angle, Kazuha dipping down with just her mouth, with every bob up being met with a palm twisting around your shaft. The sounds that rumble from deep within your chest are enough proof that the thin walls surrounding you three won’t be quiet for any longer.

Though your muscles could only stay tense for so long due to the fascinating clench, with Sakura joining back in on the fun that makes you fall slack to the mattress. She’s picking back up with kisses in certain areas of your groin where Kazuha has only glossed over, tongue well working up the seam of your balls, popping on in her mouth while Kazuha’s face is perpendicular, shifting up the side as if she’s playing the flute.

Her brows furrow for a bit when she puts the head of your cock past her pretty lips, hollowing her cheeks for a moment, swirling the tongue right underneath the tip, enough for you to tense up your length in her mouth, and you’re met with wide eyes, feeling the small release of cum onto her tongue. Kazuha then slips you out for a second, licking her lips as you’re putting everything into your body to not bust this early.

“I think he’s had enough of me, Saki. What do you think?” Kazuha observes, “Do you want more of him again?”

“Is that even supposed to be a question? Let me remind you who’s the sluttiest between the two of us.” Sakura grits, voice laced with a firm determination, as her eyes are now filled with fire building deep within the corneas.

You might be fucked here. But hey, that’s all part of the fun with these two. Remember?

Not that it was any sort of competition, so to speak, but with how they synergize together, the movements of their mouths all over their shaft, guiding one’s mouth over your cock, taking turns, whispering these sweet instructions of ‘hold here’ and ‘right there, baby,’ and even ‘god, spit all over his cock, baby. You know he likes it wet,’ it’s impossible for you to stand tall, the assault on your shaft turning into a monumental task from here on out.

Sakura asserts herself over Kazuha, fingers fast around the base, lowering her jaw enough so that the speed of the bobbing can be much quicker, and it is. Judging from how loudly you ground for the both of them to hear, Kazuha’s hands find themselves on the back of Sakura’s head, grabbing handfuls of hair as she guides her down again, making her swallow you. All of you. Until you could feel the vibrations of her hums rattling down your length and into your lower body.

Kazuha whispers into Sakura’s ear, too difficult to hear since the whines drown out the continuous gagging she’s proffering over your cock, putting her at the base for what feels like an eternity. One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. She’s still holding you down with the tightness of her throat, the urge to put your hand over Kazuha’s, prolonging the unbelievable sensation, and three taps to your hip signal that Kazuha’s had enough.

She pulls her head back up, coughing; these destroyed attempts at sobs breaking through the air. You’re left gasping, pressing the back of your head into the pillow beneath you as they both tend to your soaked cock, looking back up as they move in unison for a moment, then switching off different places around the underside while the moans just keep on coming. Hands are also fast to comb back the light obsidian and honey golden locks, not wanting to ruin their flow when they meet to kiss with your cock caught in between the crossfire.

“You girls are something else,” you husk, ears filled with the sounds of their giggles as they both continue with their makeout session, alternating with mouths and occasionally your cock still in both of their hands. The wet kisses being shared were an absolutely wonderful sight to see, and though you forget that you could also have fun for yourself, taking the liberty to press both of their lovely lips on the sides of your shaft, laughing and moaning up and over the length while you just watch. And you keep watching, feeling the puffed-up chest of yours almost rise to where your chin’s at, sucking your gut inwards as your hips do the familiar motion of raising themselves upwards to the both of them.

“He’s ready for us, hmm?” Sakura asks, wiping a patch of drool away from her chin. “Kazu, you get to ride him first. I’ve got to make sure he’s well rewarded for his patience, okay?”

Kazuha nods, watching as she primes herself, touching her slick folds as Sakura shuffles herself up past your chest, getting her thighs buried into your armpits, her pussy hovering right over your face, not wanting to wait another second as you pull her hips down, moaning into her core as Kazuha teases her walls with the head of your cock just for good measure.

“Don’t, fuck, please." Sakura pleads, taken by shock when your tongue swipes up her pussy lips, taking in the sweetness while making note of how slick she’s gotten for you. The pads of your fingers grip on her legs a bit tighter, her nose shifted up to rub her clit slightly, and she yelps. Kazuha laughs right behind her, sinking her warmth over your shaft, eliciting a moan that gets transferred into Sakura’s leaking hole, licking up the folds when Kazuha finally settles your cock into her.

“Shit!”

Sakura clutches her fingers into your hair, moaning to no avail as you quench that thirst you’ve been searching for this entire morning, and she starts to grind her pussy lips across your face, rolling slowly as your mouth hangs open, letting the sounds of rapture spill out of her mouth with every lick you do to her.

“You’re so good,” Sakura moans out, feeling the latch of your lips onto the nub, flattening out your tongue again across her folds, earning another moan in approval. You smile against her hips when your ears are filled with the endless phrases of cursing that you’ve heard way too often, but it never gets old. Ever. “Why are you so... so fucking good at this?”

So you try to speak, but all that’s said is buried underneath the drain of her pussy, moaning out as a proper response as Kazuha picks up her pace in riding your cock, feeling the clash of her hips with yours, bottoming out your length that makes you lock your knees to ensure that the lower half of your body is stable enough for her frame.

Kazuha increases the chances, setting her legs up in a squatting position, keeping herself upright with just her hands on your waist, letting her face onto Sakura’s sweaty back. She lets herself float over you for a minute, taking the chance to catch her breath while you begin to piston her pussy, thrusting upwards. You’re met with a low groan spilled out of Kazuha’s lips in response to your action, only to be drowned out when she lowers her hips to meet with yours, the primal slaps filling up the room and bouncing around the walls.

The inevitability of cumming a full-fledged broken dam into Kazuha’s cunt was a thought filling your mind, but you try to not think too much about it; Sakura’s pussy was still a thing to deal with, maintaining your pace with every lick you do to her clit.

Effort was everything; that was something to keep in mind when it comes to fucking Sakura. She loves it when you get so into it just like her, because you too can’t get enough of ruining this perfect girl every chance you get. Kazuha was also on the same boat, and by how your thighs continue to shake at the weight of her hips coming down on you again and again, it’s impossible to ignore how good she is too - keep it coming, Sakura’s telling you, in the lovely sounds filling up your ears coming from her and Kauhza. You’re fucking me so good, baby. I love it when your cock throbs inside me. Please give it to me. I know you want to.

Kazuha knows you’re close, and Sakura’s not far off in the lost rails of rhythm. Her pussy is flooding on your face, the please becoming more erratic and desparte.

“God, I’m going - I'm going.”

The words coming out of you are buried underneath Sakura’s thighs.

"Fuck, I can’t with your fucking-ah!”

Kazuha does one drive back down your length, and then one more for good measure. Sakura’s hips tremble over your face, quivering and hips trembling as you drag her pussy right across your tongue. Your arms latch somewhere above Sakura’s ass, matching her clutches with the digits buried in your locks, a fire lit under your chest as Kazuha’s cunt grips you like a knot - the heat from their bodies and yours submerging you as if you were in lava. Kazuha bucks forward, face hitting Sakura’s back, holding herself up with her hands as the pounds from thrusting upwards become increasingly unstable, her ravine of a pussy getting you closer and closer to that edge while you can’t even think straight.

A swipe up the tongue on Sakura’s folds. Then three more, nibbling on her clitoral area as her thighs start to press inward from both sides of your head. She keeps grinding, dragging her swollen lips across the ridges of your face, mewling with a hand on the headboard, giggling as she mirrors the movements from grinding on your cock earlier.

Kazuha slams her hips down, and not in a nice fashion since, well, fuck, legitimately, her cunt seizes your cock, smearing her sweet juices all over the rough bits, a vein that’s concealed with her walls, keening when she feels the swollen head shoved up inside her twitch that really makes her feel like mash. Her nails are ripping apart the skin on your stomach, searching for a hold to grab on to. It’s all futile when your body’s elevated to a temperature where there’s glistening sweat all over - her hands slip off and land on the cushions, priming the angle where you’ve hit before, fucking her deeper. She hisses when your balls lightly tap the pucker of her ass, just a bit, but that turns her on so much more.

“This cunt,” you mumble out, mouth still full of Sakura’s pussy, “Kazu, I can’t, babe. Your pussy is unreal.”

“Okay,” Sakura flatly says, “fuck.” And Kazuha just laughs, fluttering her eyes shut when you’ve latched onto the lower part of her thighs. “Keep working on him, Zu. You know he loves your pussy that much, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes, God.”

“Cum inside her.” Sakura instructs, and it’s a bid that you had no second thought of doing. “How nice of her to be your little personal fuckdoll, hm? To just handle her in ways that you want her to, nice and sticky and all fucked out, because you know she’ll come back for more, baby.”

The next move she does is so calculated, you can’t even tell or determine if she did it on the fly: placing Kazuha’s chin on the small divot in her collarbone, the image of her closed eyes, the frizzes in her wavy hair slightly covering part of her face, shaken because of how your hips drive upwards into her. And Sakura just does the simple motion of putting her palm on the side of her face, parting her mouth open while you can only watch with your eyes since the lower half of your face is still attached to Sakura’s pussy.

“Saku,” a frail call in the last seconds, “She feels so good.”

“Fuck your cum into her, baby,” Sakura growls again, clawing the sides of your head as she ruts her hips deeper into your mouth. “That’s the only thing that matters. Until she’s full with the fucking thickness of it.”

You managed to fuck Kazuha through her climax a minute or two ago, and now she’s repaying you by fiddling through yours.

It’s an unraveling feeling when you push past that brink, filling up her tiny cunt with cum, molding her fuckhole to every detail of your member. And she’s mouthing, Sakura’s expression filled with glee, saying, Aw baby, god, yes, would you look at her? She loves it when you fuck a nice load into her, fresh and hot, and-

“Christ,” you grit out, hoarsely, letting the pulses channel out of your body, Dick still grinding the deepest parts of her stomach, cum splattering every spot to be left untouched inside. The throbs are still happening, but with every hold you have, your cock starts to die out in the heat of her hips.

The senses are all over the place when Kazuha slips her pussy off of your cum-soaked cock, Sakura’s hips now hovering above your face, shifting off when you still see the constellations flash in your eyes, vision blurring and deblurring to the image of Kazuha paying no attention to Sakura’s state, sloppily placing her lips with hers again, rough.

These two kiss like friends, maybe friends who have had a little bit too much to drink in order for them to act like this. They’ve done this with Yunjin and Chaewon for sure, based on the stories that you’ve heard. With or without the alcohol, they both show this kind of affection because it's natural, watching as Sakuraa’s hands find Kazuha’s head, Kazuha slithering her arms behind Sakura’s back, letting the passion take over both of their bodies. They both take the time to indulge in each other's features: hands wandering, mouths on nipples, gripping necks and pulling waists closer, Sakura teasing Kazuha’s well-worked cunt, a fingertip soaked with a bit of your cum, licking it cleanly off her fingers.

And the hums. The fucking hums that these two are spilling out. You’re basically drooling when they pick up where they left off with the kissing, paying no attention to you as your hand starts to slowly slide over your cock, palming it before your fingers start to wrap around the length one by one. You’re equally fucked just like them, but there’s no problem with that.

Both of them take as much time as they needed - tender lips and tongues canvassing every part of their exposed bodies, eyes recording every second of this account - in hopes that you can play this back in your mind as Kazuha smiles with full delight to match your expression, drinking in the sight of the show presented right on your lap.

“I think Saku’s ready for you,” Kazuha hushes, lightly dragging her fingertips across the taut line of Sakura’s abs, resting on the underside of her breast, like a showoman who is trying to entice like she’s selling the latest model of a car. Her hand then goes down to Sakura’s clitoral area, rubbing it in circles when the mountains of pillows and sheets are unearthed from the mattress, ruffling and crumpling with the movements of their legs and feet, being pulled by your hand to the edge of the bed. “She made a mess all over your face, didn’t she? Now you’ve got to pay her back.”

You’ve gotten out of bed in a heartbeat multiple times before. One morning was because you were late to class; the other time was to follow the view of Sakura’s bare ass tiptoeing into the kitchen for another meal before starting the day - and here you were, with a rearranged order in what probably feels like slow motion but one constant movement throughout, hand never leaving the meat and bone of Sakura’s ankle, assisting Kazuha by reeling Sakura, who’s shying away, but this is exactly what she wants.

“Our little baby of a whore is deprived of a thick cock filling up her guts,” Kazuha sighs, expression a bit fatigued with the way she’s still coming down from her high. “So do you think you can do me a favor? Stuff up her cunt nice and tuck first, then ruin her after. How does that sound?”

You try to answer, at least, taken aback when Kazuha’s got her long fingers along the line of your hardening shaft and Sakura’s spreading her legs wider and wider. She’s holding you close. Closer. Aiming - tried and practiced - towards the heat of Sakura’s. It’s a hook, line, and sinker when the head of your cockparts her walls, slippery and still leaking, feeling every nerve ending in her hips trickle a thousand volts inside.

“Make her beg for it. I think you’ll be able to fuck her filthy with how she’s wanting to cum for you.” Kazuha’s tone drops down low, almost agitated. “This is payback for what she did to me last time, so I’ll let you be the judge.”

And when the opportunity presents itself for you to determine that said call, it’s never a clear answer from the start if you’re willing to be honest with yourself. The one of many tricks Sakura has on her exposed sleeve, enchanting you with a heavy desire - the kind of want that could never be fully fulfilled. And, even in the days where it does feel like that, it doesn’t even come close to satisfying you.

When you lock eyes with her, wide open to match with her parted mouth, bottoming her all the way with your cock tapping to that spot that has her keening, holding back her sigh as your groin meets the underside of her thighs.

“Feel good, baby?” You ask Sakura, relieved at how she’s come to grips around your shaft burying inside her, head tilting back, clutching on to Kazuha’s forearm as your fingers find their place along her thighs. “Hm,” you assess soon after, inching your cock past the halfway point, “sure looks like it does.”

Sakura’s mouth wobbles, gasping, her eyes draw shut, and her face flushes pink. She takes in your cock so well, the slipping slick of her thighs sounding off this noise of pure squelching; her whole upper body moves up in reaction; stomach bucking, chest puffing up to the open air, pushing in the deep area that has you speechless.

The bottom palm of her hand grazes your groin, adjusting to how your cock molds around her cunt, hands shifting to the underside of the knees, using the rising octaves in her moans to indicate that she’s receptive and expressive in approval. Amidst the growing chaos the lower half of your body is going through, Kazuha takes liberty in massaging Sakura’s breasts, rubbing her stomach as it bloats from the air being exhaled in whines and expletives.

“Ugh, fuck, you." She’s blabbering at this point.

And there’s you, finding your rhythm, your groove, enjoying the way her soft skin maps out across your rough and grainy fingers, how it sinks in so smoothly - much closer to melting, it seems - something of that degree.

“-mhm,” and there’s the “can’t baby, ah, ngh-” with more of, “-dick feels so good.” It’ll fall between the cracks, piercing deep, pulling out and sliding it across her folds just to play as a tease, because she deserves it without any reason, penetrating back in to pick up right where you left off.

Sakura’s body is that one journey that you can never get tired of looking at. How her thighs are just immaculately perfect, that waist offering up those sets of abs on a pedestal, the way her tits rebound on the upstroke when you’ve got past the spot of bottoming her out - where your cockhead grips at the soft spot where it’s been at multiple times, squeezing and swallowing and resting where it should belong in every case with her.

Kazuha shifts her body from the side of Sakura, getting lower to rest her head right above her waist, a trail of kisses circling over her stomach and belly button, getting caught in the throes of pleasure when you realize that Sakura’s got two fingers inside Kazuha, helping her treat herself and assisting the self-induced action.

“God, Saki, look at him all fucked out in your pussy, huh?” Kazuha bites down in an area on her waist just above her cunt, nose brushing down lower to her clit, hand curling around to the bottom of her inner thighs, keeping it out of your way. “She wraps you so well, doesn’t she? Finally getting fucked again after last night?”

“Don’t you know it,” you answer, and there’s no other need to spiel something that’s already been known; Sakura can make you shut the fuck up with her mouth, her cunt, and the way that she talks pure sex. You love how she’s nothing more than mush and warmth. A fine tapestry that’s meant to stay untouched, but you’ll tear all the edges down where the seams have already been shredded.

You get thrown off when Sakura’s pussycle clenches at the hilt, where the contraction captures the air bubbling in your lungs, turning the legs into jelly, and the bobble forward into her lying body on the mattress only punctuates without saying a word. Kazuha laughs at the sudden change in weight on her head, causing you to stand back up with your knees to the bed holding you up, drawing away as Kazuha gazes at your silken cock, soaked with Sakura, lightly teasing when you’re pushing the tip in and out for good measure.

Kazuha rises from her bent state, lazily putting her lips on yours as the pace slows a bit in the lower half of you - darting your cock in with one firm stroke. Hard. The strokes themselves are now more impactful, and ripping, the snap is becoming more assertive. “Fuck, sir, fucking,” Sakura cries out, the coil of her cunt tying you in. Kazuha sets herself back to where she was, resting her cheek on her waist as every entry with your cock, body bouncing on the soaked sheets from all the sweat and leaking slick coming out.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, ah.”

Sakura’s hands hold at her thighs, gyrating upwards at every point where your cock buries at the deepest depth, swelling at the unimaginable clench to where she mewls, wailing but cute at how she’s tuckered out.

“Goodness gracious,’ You spit out, in a half-sob, the moans and utterances and simple replies to Kazuha’s endless mumbling, repeating in one same fashion or the other. “You’re so-so fucking wet, and for what? God-”

“Look at what you did to her,” Kazuha tuts, biting on the inside of her thigh, and Sakura basically yelps. A mix of pain and pleasure, the best of both worlds. You tug yourself out of her cunt, slapping the swollen cockhead on the nub of her clit, sighing at the way she shudders. “Do you think she deserves to finally let go?’

The responses that pass through your lips are just staggered breaths, tumbling down as the slaps start to line up with your heartbeat. A fine point in pace, your internal metronome that only leads to the dwindling doom of your thick cock thrusting Sakura’s tight pussy.

“Love it,” Sakura mutters, head fallen to the provided pillow courtesy of Kazuha; she’s sobbing. “Love your cock, so fucking much.”

“Mhm honey,” and the pet names in themselves are just the ad-libs thrown into the mix, with the right touch of pheromones and increase of dopamine being shot up to the brain. “Get it in there nice and deep; I want her to own it, feel it, because this cock is all hers.”

“-god.”

The riled-up exhale comes in reflection of the ecstasy, every bit of praise coming from Kazuha’s lips playing hand-in-hand with Sakura’s moans filling your ears.

“Think you can hold out a bit longer, Saki? Kazuha croons, head turned the opposite way as she admires the sucked-out gaze Sakura wears on her face, meeting your eyes again. “I’m doing you a favor since he fucked my brains out last time, so be thankful. You greedy bitch.”

“Shut your fucking-ugh.”

“Don’t even think about keeping it in,” Kazuha doubles down, dragging her nails across Sakura’s inner thigh, forcing her legs wide open once more, almost as if she’s doing the splits across the length of the mattress. “He’s so perfect for you, hitting all of the right spots and all the right places? In that creaming pussy of yours? How his fucking fat cock splits you up into oblivion? Come on now, just-”

“My fucking god,” you blurt out, in complete shock at the words that were spilling out of Kazuha’s mouth like emptying an open bucket full of water. “You are a piece of work.”

Kazuha just laughs, taking the compliment to heart, with some mischief still showing with her closed eyelids. Sakura whines, going silent, shaking as your fingers bruise the same spots where the grip on her waist was first.

The lust starts to boil to a point where nothing else is given a second though, and it’s been that way for a while now, fueled with a hunger that could replace the morning cup of coffee with ease, watching as your cock vanishes into Sakura’s pussy, the moans hitting similar notes that are now just echoes of the night prior.

“Ah, uh, almost there." Sakura, once forward in her advances, now reduced to simple begs and pleads, the gaze half-lidded, back arching off the rumples in the sheets. She’s so fucking wet for you, and that’s another mental note that’s circling back in your head for probably the tenth time this morning so far, and might worth mentioning that it’s still in the fucking morning.

“Oh? Make her do it, babe.” Kazuha orders the go-ahead, a hand - well, actually, both hands full of Sakura’s breasts, claiming it as hers. “I think she’s willing to be killed while being split open.”

You’re paying zero attention to the words - grunting and passing air - as the piledriving only seems to be the sole constant that your mind and body seem to be focusing on.

It’s a bit disorienting how your vision blacks out before coming back with color, the mind playing tricks as if you were getting your head dunked underwater and pulled back up, gasping for air. The thrusting never stops, with every fiber in your body, pooling it into fucking Sakura’s open cunt in the best way possible. Her hips are past the breaking point, grinding up against yours. She’s wailing, towards hyperventilation, eyes rolling upward to the back of her head, mouthing, close. You can easily tell, I’m so fucking close for you. Keep ramming your dick into me.

“Saki,” now you’re saying the other nickname, and Kazuha grins, finally having her moment. “Fuck, baby-”

Sakura looks away as Kazuha looks up, chin lightly tapping your hips - the devilish smile she possesses - it’s a rare occurrence, but that look could haunt you in your dreams: “Use her pussy, fuck everything up inside of her, I don’t care. Get her creaming all over you. I want to hear her screaming.”

And Sakura fucking screeches. The better sound to wake up to rather than the annoying alarms on your phone.

She holds still, every part of her body tensing - knees locking, toes curling, back arching and unarching - as Kazuha holds her down. The noises she’s making are loud enough to slip through the thin walls, and you can guess another complaint from the neighbors would be on the cards. Kazuha takes liberty into treating a barrage of kisses across Sakura’s body, you trying to drag your cock a little bit in, barely managing to drag yourself out. A brief effect from the aftershocks: her midsection freezing as the clamp around your cock starts to subside.

Sakura whimpers with closed lips, shuddering when you finally slide out of her properly-fucked cunt, leaning down to kiss and kiss and kiss, dick taking the fresh, cold air as it rests along the bottom portion of her waist. Your hands get on her neck, helping her up with the arch in her back, hot and slicked and sweaty. Kazuha gives you two some space, playing as the makeshift crane to pull Sakura away from the clutches of your hands and lips, face racked in disappointment when Kazuha looks at you, smiling, tending to the mess that’s reforming in her arms.

Kazuha then moves across the bed with her knees, a change in guard from Sakura to her when her body crashes into yours, the press of her lips good enough for you to fall on your back as the arms and chest eventually come into their own, molding with the canvas of your skin to mesh. She’s literally perfect for you - the way she wants more of you - in the taste of your lips, how your fingers explore every area of the framework that’s tensing and relaxing, reaching for spots that get her riled up in every way imaginable.

You kiss and lick and grab wherever you can. A hand palming the firm skin of her ass, soft and plump. The hickeys and other various bite marks are an earned badge of honor for Kazuha to be proud of, her nails digging into the skin where your shoulders are as the grip on her ass-cheeks starts to become more and more possessive, slapping it as her forehead accidentally clatters yours.

“Such a klutz,” she assesses, landing a loose kiss on the bottom of your chin. “Still able to think straight after fucking Saki relentlessly?”

“What do you think?” You rebuke, dazed, as Kazuha gets a finger on a strand of your hair at the front, mimicking her messy bedhead bangs.

“I mean,” she slips her tongue across your bottom lip, biting along the patch of few hairs, pulling her head back when she notices that your hands have never left the curve of her ass. “I think you’ve got more to offer, and here’s a bonus: there’s one hole that you haven’t filled yet.”

It’s the most simple movement she could do, with any intent that she wanted to fabricate behind it. She turns around, swaying her ass from the left side as she’s on her hands and knees on the bed, stretching as far as she could possibly get them to reach. The arch starts to form along the fine lines of muscle displayed on her back, arms out straight as her legs find a proper foothold, spreading themselves for you to fill in the space.

Your hands have never been quick to get themselves on something that you want, and this was the only exception; it’s appalling how easy the soft skin wraps around the underside of your fingers, picturing the look on her hidden face where you can only see the back of her head: in her lidded eyes, the swollen lip being captured between her teeth, the mumbling of insistence when all you’re just doing is feeling her out, resting your dick above her unfathomable cheeks, grazing the underside in the small divot at the middle, pressing them closer together, her hips reeling back and into your thighs, the listless moan spilling out of your mouth when the friction tightens at the belly of your cock.

In fact, that’s the only thing you keep your focus on, not paying any sort of attention to Sakura when she shuffles out from beneath Kazuha’s lowered and bent body, doing this sort of army crawl to the nightstand for a certain thing. You’ve seen the arsenal that she has in that drawer, and some of the items were actually put to use in the last outing with Sakura and Kazuha. The instinctual thing that you do also is lean over to Kazuha’s backside and get one side of your face nestled into her as your hands wrap their way around her stomach, holding her close.

Not much is said aside from the shaky exhales and whines, filled in with the occasional smacks of your lips across skin. Until-

“My turn to watch,” announces Sakura, a slim bottle in her hand, wrapped with those long, dainty fingers of hers.

You blink once, and she’s on the edge where the nightstand is. You blink again, and she’s already made her way back to you, cap opened with the noise similar to an obvious crack of a stick, like breaking the silence in a quiet forest.

Sakura’s hands become slick, as if her hand were made of the smooth liquid itself. The grip she has on you is breathlessly attractive: palm sliding across the length, strategizing the strokes at every curve and pull while she’s kissing you.

“Do you have any idea how long she’s been wanting this?” Sakura questions, implicating you as she slaps your cock along Kazuha’s ass. “You’ve told me before: she’s made for you.”

Utterly speechless is what you are, but maybe you should say something to-

“Gotta fuck her sensless,” Sakura suggests, head perpendicular to yours while the cock in her hands starts to graze the surface of her ass, nudging the opening by just a teeny bit, a small preview of what’s to unfold. “That’s what she wants. What she needs. Isn’t that right, Zuha?”

“Mhm.” Kazuha hums in agreement, a throaty moan to follow after Sakura gets both hands full of her ass, spreading her open. “All of it,” Kazuha murmurs, chest pulled inwards when you start to descend; the more you fall, the more faster the air expels out of her chest, with a shout thrown in - a last resort call of your name: “fuck, I, hngh, god.”

You hold for a moment, pussy leaking by the second as she’s taking you fully, expanding to compensate for the girth. An enchanted feeling washes over your body, grabbing to whatever you can of Kazuha’s ass - holding, a still in this moment of time - and this was the only grace period you’ve given her much more than yourself, head falling back because her hips do this movement in your hands, and

“For fuck’s sake,” you spit, because the suffocating tightness and heat surrounding your cock is one to be unbearable. The pins and needles of pleasure prick all over your nerves as the fine weight of Kazuha’s ass takes you in and out, until you’ve retreated from the impending chamber, pausing as your cock twitches.

Then you drop the pin inside her, all the way.

“Fuck!” Kazuha gasps, sewing her eyes shut. Her hands start to grip the sheets.

There isn’t much time after for her to get used to this, as you start to drive into her more, fucking out every cry that you could suck out of her lips. Her ass does this little ripple effect with every slam, making her feel the thickness where it hurts, hugging your cock in all directions. It’s a gradual push from here on out, building your sense of rhythm again, just like how she was riding you earlier.

“Finally,” Sakura breathes, kissing Kazuha’s ass cheek, getting her fingers buried on the curve, kneading, showing, and biting.

The thrusts keep coming. One stroke and the next. Each one after is harder than the last. Your eyes are locked onto Sakura’s side profile, watching your cock disappear in the valley of Kazuha’s ass with every passing movement. Kazuha herself looks over her shoulder, a hand out reaching for something, maybe her thigh, hoping to spread herself even wider so that it’ll be easier for you to stretch her tight hole out. You could feel that she wants more, throwing her ass back to match her strokes with yours, the slaps becoming louder and louder, similar to the moans.

“So fucking tight,” you grit, your vision loosing sharpness at the top layers. Sakura’s smiling into Kazuha’s sweaty skin. “Like, nobody else could have this but me. Shit-”

“It’s not every day that you’re gaping a pretty girl’s ass.” Sakura says it excitedly, her head rocking along with the movement of Kazuha’s body in every slam. “Fucking her hole and opening up just for you. God, Kazu, can you believe this? He’s taking you so fucking well; I love the way he just fucks you, like that’s the only thing he’s meant to do. Just drop your pants whenever, and he’ll just take you right then and there- get you craving - over and over and over again, and it could be everything, if you just let him.”

Kazuha claws deeper into the bedsheets, nearly tearing the fabric, Sakura’s face on Kazuha’s ass-cheek, closing her eyes to feel the motion more.

Every inch of her body is washed with bliss, curdling in the layers beneath the skin, a form of want that could only, truly, be achieved by you.

“Baby,” Sakura’s calling out to you this time, face flustered when you realize that she’s got a hand magnetized to the heat between her legs; fingers in its own cyclone, a paradigm of its own when she’s screwing in two, no-three digits inside her cunt, parting her folds in an identical fashion the way that your cock rips open Kazuha’s ass and fucking the lights out of her since that’s the primary reason why she’s connected to you, and Sakura even sit back and watch this unfold in front of her eyes, bear witness to you fucking her friend with every matching heartbeat to the claps, “She could be a heartbreaker for you, and you could fuck her ego until she finally knows her place, like the motherfucking slut that she is.”

There’s no sense of control left in your bones anymore. All you just do is let Sakura’s words fill your ears as your fingers dig deeper into the firm cheeks of Kazuha, the warm embrace of oil trickling down the plugged-up, puckered ass as your cock picks up the dripping remnants.

“I-” is what you make of a poor attempt from Kazuha, the vowel replaced with a flat-out gasp, since the irreplaceable feeling of power goes a little bit over the top of your head, a firm thrust to send the message instead as the fucked-out girl at the front of your thighs tumbles out a voice that’s wheezing and whining in croaks. “Fuck. Yes, fuck, fuck, babe.”

Sakura doesn’t really say many words to you soon after, just mouthing yours, yours. She’s so yours. And even if you could describe the surreal feeling of bending a beautiful girl over across the canvas of your mattress and sheets, there’d probably be nothing else left to say from you. She’s just urging you to keep on trucking Kazuha’s ass, demanding that you’d fuck her until the wheelchair sitting in the dark corner of your closet proved to be a viable solution for her poor legs - when there’s all but that satiated with the proper fucking you’ve delivered.

“Aw, you like it when she’s all fucked out for you, huh?” Sakura keeps on talking, smiling her heart away, paying no attention to the obscene sounds that Kazuha keeps letting out. You try to come up with a response to Sakura, but you’re lost at the letters caught in the back of your tongue, watching as Kazuha’s beautiful ass envelops all of your cock, balls lightly tapping her cunt when you’ve got it down to the hilt. The moans hit a hitch at the throat, only for it to be drowned out with the unrelenting thrusts into her tight ass and flushing your thighs with hers.

A snap from one slow hit. Then another. You keep fucking in, one hand alternating between from the rounded end of Kazuha’s waist to her ass-cheek and the other buried into the messy locks of Sakura’s, holding her head in place as the grip around your cock burns across the surface, not failling to keep the pace consistent as it increases the more Kazuha’s walls smother your cock with ease.

“-perfect,” Kazuha manages to say, the syllables tumbling on top of each other as her whines do this staccato format the more your thrusts chop up the sound. You’re driving your hips so up to the frontside that the ripples start to catch Sakura’s cheek, who’s still laughing when she hears Kazuha try to speak, fucked at the cock stabbing inside her for all that it’s worth. “Stretching me so good, baby, you’ve got it, yes, right there,” and that’s when you see her head fall to the pillow, screaming with all her might when you’ve brought her to the point which-

“Don’t you dare fucking hide from me.” Sakura scowls, fist full of Kazuha’s hair, forcing her up. The arch in her back is deeper than before, giving you a little more space for you to take inside her ass, inching deeper. This wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t for the wetness and pulsing throbs your cock emits when you bury yourself in, holding as the grip from her tight ass is something straight out of a mythical creation. “I want him to hear you. Use you. Lower your head again, and I swear to fuck-“

This happens on impulse, or maybe this was the one thought sitting in the back of your mind that couldn’t rest there any longer, pulling your cock out of Kazuha’s ass, finger, and thumb quickly to be wrapped around the base. You’ve got Sakura’s head in your hand still, dragging her across the dune of Kazuha’s cheek, closer to the head of your cock, and she takes the hint fully, lowering her jaw until her teeth pass the head, enveloping you, eyes fluttering shut, and humming out of surprise.

“You talk too much,” you’re saying to Sakura, mouthful of your cock, tongue slipping and pulling with her head in the ways that she knows you’ve ascended from before. “I thought I had you up on the ropes earlier; guess I didn’t do much, but we can fix that later.” It’s incredibly difficult for you to not lose your insanity, transitioning from Kazuha’s tight ass and into the addicting heat of Sakura’s mouth, taking you past the halfway mark, head dipping past her soft palette and into the hollow of her throat, cheeks puffing and coughing up spit to soak the areas already covered from the wetness in Kazuha’s ass. “Fucking-”

Sakura’s sharp inhale for air sends you in check, as her welled-up eyes watch your cock sink back into Kazuha’s ass, face crinkling when the tightness is a little hard to break into before you’re sliding back in and out with ease.

So it just flows the way it goes. A turn-taking kind of structure you’ve established. You thrust inside Kazuha’s tight ass for a few strokes, pull yourself out, and nestle your cock into those pretty lips of Sakura’s. The pair of them humming in approval and giggling under their breaths as you take the fun for yourself, using one hole after the other. Kazuha’s face is riddled with sweat, the hot pink shade running across her cheeks. Sakura’s is also the same, welled-up tears as she holds herself down the hard line of your cock.

These sluts. Your sluts. Many would’ve wished to be in your shoes. But you’re the lucky pick among the both of them.

“My good girls,” you mumble, groaning as you up the takes in one tight ass and one pretty fucking mouth. “Could die like this every day, using you two like this. A fucking dream.”

Sakura guides you back into the rim of Kazuha’s ass, hand posing as the makeshift pipe when your cockhead nudges back into her, groaning like crazy to the added pressure of her fingers and palm. Your body twinges a bit, gradually building up the slaps with every follow-through more quickly than the previous hit.

“My, fuck- holy fuck-”

“What’s the matter?” Sakura’s fast to assess the condition as Kazuha’s moans start to bounce around in every wall and corner in the room, watching as you keep fucking yourself into Kazuha and her ass, “Too much to handle? Oh god, you’re about to bust, aren’t you? Kazuha look, he’s going to cum again soon for you, baby.”

You could probably hear the sirens calling within your head. Kazuha’s hips are moving on their own and not in line with yours. Tensing, tensing, then relaxing, and it flip-flops. You can see in the muscles and how they sort of cramp up per se, how her moans are a lot more vocal as to earlier, when you feel down her cunt and be surprised how she’s oozing in your fingers, her ass clenching around your cock, clinging.

And the brain overload to not blow it makes you pull out, flicking your cock up in the air as you watch the arch in Kazuha’s back deepen. Sakura’s got a palm full of the oil, slathering it nicely - hand coiling you where it feels right.

“One more push,” Sakura pleads, resting her head down the midline of Kazuha’s back, both hands on her ass, spreading her open for you, “please, just for us.”

So.

You do as Sakura says, pressing your cockhead back into the soft coil of muscle, Kazuha’s body greatly accepting you - grabbing and stretching and inviting all of you. She’s buried her head back into the cushion, muffling the pained whines, pulling to the right so that the breathing is a bit easier to tolerate, and the rush soon after is a spell of your own.

Sakura’s hands hold firm on the plush of her ass, pulling outward and pressing inward when you’ve sheathed yourself, the vice ten times tighter than what it already is. Kazuha’s ass clutches around the head of your cock, and with every pound that you dish out to her, the more audible the clashes of skin are. Your upper body is starting to buck forward, the lower half losing composure in the routine that it built for itself, Kazuha’s mouth is parted open just like Sakura's - mouthing - keep going, yes, fuck my ass, just like that, god, your cock, just need you to-

“Babes, I’m going-”

That’s really all you say when you’re revealing your cock away from her ass, cumming all over her uncontrollably.

Shots of white are painted over porcelain. Spent, slick, and messy porcelain. You’re trying to readjust the grip around your cock, pointing your tip inside the open hole of Kazuha, shooting a measly two or three spurts, hips trembling as she gets help from Sakura to hold her ass open for you.

Sakura, unfortunately, gets caught in the crossfire. Earring a few scattered streams of your release all over her face, some in her mouth, and plenty into her hair.

“Mmmm,” breathes Sakura, tongue running across both upper and lower profiles of her lips, hooking the taste of you on her buds. Kazuha still has her face down, buried in the sheets, ass up, as she could legitimately not move a single muscle in her body after being wrecked for god knows how long. She’s softly sobbing into the pillowcase; bruises spread out across her skin, visible red prints highlighted on her cheeks, but she’s managed to calm down. The breathing is starting to stabilize. “Look at that: two loads from you this morning. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Should’ve came inside my ass.” Kazuha suggests, finally letting her frame fall to the side as you and Sakura both observe the obvious drip of cum oozing out of her. “This doesn’t technically count, but I want a do-over.”

You and Sakura both exchange this look with a singular eyebrow, a dragged-out grin soon to follow. “Such a slut for you.” Sakura observes.

“That isn’t really new news to anyone.”

Some hours later, things get slow. It’s the weekend, or the weekday? You’re too lost to put that setting back in your head, primarily because:

“Can you guys keep it down?” Sakura asks loudly, not willing to turn her head around away from the TV when you bend your knees a bit and slip inside Kazuha’s cunt against the kitchen counter, hiking up one of your borrowed shirts you gave her to reveal the handprint still apparent on her ass. “I can’t watch the movie if I hear two horny rabbits getting it on behind me.”

“Fuck you,” Kazuha rasps, mewling when you’ve buried yourself deep to the cornerstone of your cock. “If it were me, I wouldn’t have said no to getting some seconds.” She’s dipping her head down, hiding her face in the wavy locks of her hair, but you can tell her lips are parted when you’ve got a hand to her neck, pulling to flush her backside with your front. “God, yes-”

“Don’t expect an apology from me,” you’re calling out to Sakura, who took it upon herself to finally twist and see you staring, the pumps inside Kazuha relaxed, and its own thing happening. And Kazuha’s not even moaning yet. “You only have to blame yourself for bringing a physical version of Aphrodite to the place.“

Sakura rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the television. “That’s her little secret. I guess. And it’s not my fault that you fall for it every time.”

The thing is, there isn’t really a secret to be said amongst the three of you. You’ve mapped them out to their little glances - the one quirk that gets them both going for something to follow. Dumb it down to a simple phone call or maybe a cantation laced in the words they whisper into your ear. Sakura’s right: you will fall for it.

Every. Single. Time.

#le sserafim smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #sakura smut #kazuha smut #le sserafim sakura #le sserafim kazuha #kpop x male reader

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dearest-nell · 2 months

Text

morning person

s. harrington x reader, 2.8k

summary: a snapshot into the morning routine of steve harrington, now that the two of you have moved in together includes: established steve x reader, domestic fluff, steve is a busybody. warnings: literally none except i am still incapable of proofreading properly

a/n: honestly if anyone has any requests i would love to hear them, or just want to chat about this show that has ruined my life, because i'm spiralling into obsession over here.

People who complain about mornings have obviously never spent one waking up beside Steve Harrington, this you’re sure of. Because if they had, then they would know there was nothing in the world so deliciously saccharine than that drowsy, softened look on his face as he blinks the sleep away from mingling eyelashes, his lips curving upwards into a dreamy sort of smile. This isn’t even the first time he has awoken this morning.

Steve Harrington is a morning person – an early riser, a dawn greeter, a restless child on christmas day. His body clock is set as the sun begins to kiss the horizon, his eyes blinking open into a dark, cool bedroom. New. This bedroom is new. He is still getting used to it, this apartment, a dingy one bedroom located just a few blocks from the rougher side of town. It’s a far cry from the mansion he used to live in, small and outdated and a little worse for wear, if he were to say so himself, but it’s home. It’s home because it’s his, and it’s home because it’s yours. You rent it together, bills strung haphazardly from paychecks of jobs you’d both rather live without. Steve doesn’t mind that he still works at the video store, not when it lights up the lamp on his bedside, or cooks the pasta on your shitty gas top that flickers every so often. He needs to call the service guy, now that he thinks about it, but it’s too early to matter.

He can feel the heat of your body pressed in beside him, curled in on yourself, face buried into the pillow now folding creases into your skin, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You have never been a morning person, he learned rather early on. You’re delirious, and grumpy, and still so beautiful despite the glare in your eyes when he used to wake you, and now, he knows to let you sleep. His impatience to rouse you, to kiss you and touch you is an urge he’s learned to swallow, so he pauses for a moment simply to stare, to smile to himself at the way you mumble in your dreams.

He has the time, he thinks, considering it’s still dark out, and his shift at the store is not due for half a morning away, so he lets himself linger, tucked into the warmth of bedsheets as he works up the courage to leave it. He knows he needs to, that he’ll feel better if he does, that the routine always pays off even if it means parting from you. The air will be chilly outside, but he needs the cold to clear his head. His morning run is his time, after all. It gives him the solitude to consider, to plan, to unwind.

He slips from the bed, careful footsteps walking a still unfamiliar path through the bedroom, boxes stacked against a near wall still unpacked from the move. His sneakers are in the wardrobe, well placed for a quick pick up, though he hasn’t accounted for his discarded shirt rippled right in his path. He trips, stumbling slightly, cursing himself as the thud that resounds as heavy feet meet the floorboards. He turns with a cringe, hearing you stir, though you do not rise as you wriggle deeper into yellow linens, disappearing beneath the comforter.

He’s quick to dress, not wanting to risk another incident and the wrath of your disturbed sleep, slipping out into the living room to tie his shoes, still half asleep and blinking blearily. Despite its flaws, he likes this apartment more than he thought possible. There’s a passthrough between the kitchen and the living room that lets him talk to you as he cooks, you hanging over the bench to smile at him, pressing kisses into his shoulder when he dares to come too close. There’s a strange nook that sits in the wall by the door, one that now holds your keys and bumble bee umbrella, though neither of you are too sure why it was built in the first place. There’s a flat expanse outside the bathroom window that you want to build a flower box into, though Steve is yet to determine how, since neither of you are particularly good at D.I.Y. He loves this second hand couch Eddie found on the curb, loves the strange, abstract art piece Will designed for you both as a housewarming, loves the ceramic clown that Robin stole from an overpriced giftshop to hide in one of your moving boxes, now settled in the bookshelf beside an array of half read novels between you.

He’s building a life here with you, and Steve is trying his best to remind himself of it every chance he get. There will be Christmases spent in these walls, games night drinks spilled on this carpet, and so many I love you kisses pressed to smiling cheeks beside that front door – he hardly knows how to contain the excitement for it all, even as he ties his laces.

The morning is colder than he expected, but Steve has never been one to check the weather even now, even after he caught a cold from a raining run one morning, taking himself straight to work rather than home to you to shower. He figure’s he’ll wing it, deal with the consequences as they come, and enjoy the way you dote on him as he whines and groans in his flu like delirium days later. Cold, but not raining, he knows he’ll be fine this time.

He’s been planning out this new jogging route as he goes, still learning the maps and turns of each new lane. He’d never been to this part of town much before the move, but he’s starting to acclimate one run at a time. It’s not too far from Hawkins, after all. It still feels like a familiar place, but it’s closer to the community college to save you the travel time. Steve’s a visual learner, after all. It gives him the roadmap that he’ll need to plan out his week. He’s taking himself the long way just to jot down the layout; the farmers market, the hardware store, the cafe with the good coffee. He waves to the people he passes by, few and far between, trying to appear friendly. He doesn’t know yet the culture of this community, but he’s eager to make a good impression. He recognises the old man who runs the news agency, stops to chat as they talk about the community centre. Steve’s agreed to volunteer for the refurbishment, he’s hoping it’ll help you both settle in, and you’ve promised to bake up your best batch of pastries to feed the hungry husbands as they work. Steve’s not yet a husband, but he’s planning on changing that in due time.

The sun mingling with the clouds by the time he departs again, his pace quickening through midtown suburbia to take him home. The paperboy is tossing rolls at the doors, barely breaking on his bike as he passes house after house. Steve moves onto the road to avoid any collisions, shaking his head as the teen wheels off past a corner. He hasn’t even thought about his week yet, he realises, and his pace drops in consideration. There’s a stocktake coming up at work that will take more energy than he has to give, his parents are due over for dinner later in the week (he’s hoping they’ll cancel), and Robin has booked him tickets to some kind of gig that he’s certain he’ll hate. He mentally notes the checklist – things to buy, things to do, things to clean – now able to see his lot clearly without the buzz of a busy world around him. His days run smoother this way, alone, soles beating against the pavement. It starts him on the right foot.

He’s out of breath when he arrives back on your block, panting heavily without the grace of a water bottle. He knows he should have brought one, but there’s no point stewing on it now. His thighs ache as he climbs the staircase, three flights of stairs his least favourite part of coming home. He can’t imagine hauling groceries up this stairwell is going to be an enjoyable weekly endeavour, but for the price of rent, he’s willing to make the effort, even with a slightly busted knee.

He’s a little louder than he wants to be as he eases open the lock, slipping into a slightly brighter apartment than when he left. He doesn’t think you’re awake, but he takes pause to slow himself down, turning into the kitchen instead of the bedroom. Steve clicks on the faucet, hanging his head below the tap to let the cool water run directly into his mouth. He lacks grace as he guzzles down half a litre, droplets trickling down his cheeks and chin into unclean dishes from the night before. There’s urgency, he decides, in this drink. No type for a cup, no time to pause. He pulls away gasping, wiping a cupful of water across his sweat slicken face, unable to suck enough breath into his lungs. He leans back against the benchtop, eyes pressed skyward to focus on slowing himself down, letting his heart rate drop back to a blissful pace.

He knows he should shower, but more than anything, he’s aching to get back between the sheets with you. It’s funny how he still misses you when you’re not within reach, even for an hour, even when he knows you’re still wrapped up tight in the comforts of his bed. It feels wrong to love a person this much, like he shouldn’t be made to feel so much, so deeply, every passing minute of every passing day. But he does. He knows he’s not the first to feel such a love, but he thinks he might be the only one regardless, because no one else has you. He thinks it’s strange that everyone in the world isn’t aching to be by your side, that hearts all over the town aren’t skipping beats at the wideness of your smile, the curve of your shoulder, the tickle of your laugh. This love must be special, then, because how else can he be the only one so enamoured by you.

He forces himself into the shower, the water not yet warm even as he sinks his head beneath the stuttering stream. The pipes are old, though a cold shower bothers him far less than it bothers you. He’ll be out quicker this way. He is less thorough in his cleaning than he thinks he ought to be, scrubbing furiously at his body with the loofah you bought him, scraping sweat and red streaks into a now fading tan. He’s seeing the sun less these days in the dead of autumn, but he’ll make it up later. Right now, all he is focused on is climbing back into his bed, his skin stained with a citrus scent embedded into the new soap you had bought. It’s not his usual brand, but he thinks he likes the change anyways. It reminds him of summer picnics with you, fingers digging into orange peels, juices dribbling down his fingers until he tears out slices one by one. The scent lingers, filled with your orange flavoured kisses and sun streaked highlights burning into his mind, and yes, he thinks, the change isn’t so bad.

He shuts off the tap, yanking his towel from the rack to pat himself dry, hair shaking out like a puppy dog with rambunctious excitement to be on his way. He doesn’t bother to redress, dropping the towel to the floor without focus, padding back towards your bedroom. You’re exactly how he left you, though a little more illuminated in the morning light. You’ve wiggled out of the blanket again, one foot kicked out to the side to regulate your body temperature, one hand reaching out towards his side of the bed. You reach for him in your sleep sometimes, and he hates the idea of not being there for you when you do.

He clambers into bed his eagerness betraying his stealth, expert hands lifting your arm up for him to slide under, hanging it securely over his waist as he settles into the warm dip of the mattress. Your body responds instinctively, rolling into him with a groan, still not quite awake, though he can tell you’re not so far off. He runs fingers through your hair, trying to stave off your inevitable waking for as long as he can manage. Your alarm isn’t due for another hour, and he wants every second before that spent just like this.

He doesn’t mean to fall back asleep, but sleep takes him anyways, his eyes blinking shut under the hypnotic pattern of your breathing beside him. He’ll wake up again groggier now, but there is nothing to be done to change it. He tugs you in closer, rougher in his sleep, his neediness permeating his unconscious mind until you’re pressed square against him. The movement spurs you awake, slowly and unintentionally, though it takes you a moment to understand why.

There he is, your man, your darling boy, mouth hanging open with quiet, rumbling snores, arms wrapped around you in a protective lock. He’s never looked more beautiful, even with your eyes out of focus, one closed and pressed into the fabric of your pillowcase. You can smell the soap, feel the softness of his now cleansed skin beneath your curious fingertips, and you know he’s already been out of bed. He tries his best not to fall back asleep, but your smile curves wider to be blessed to see it. There’s a jealousy in you, after all, that he gets to watch you sleep so often. Times like these are rare, when you awaken first, and you’re greedy in your enjoyment of them. You’d take a picture if you thought you could reach the camera, but the moment would spoil, you were sure. You commit it to memory instead, every dip and curve and freckle and hair burned into your head until it’s all you can see. You want his face to be a fading image that blinks to life behind every close of your eyes, an after image repeating itself well into the day when you’re far away from him.

He is so lovely, and you are so in love.

The alarm breaks the two of you out of your reverie, your body jolting at the surprise of it. Steve is slower to start this time, groaning a drunken sort of sound as you slam your hand down on the rattling clock. His arm tightens around you, dragging you until your body is half wedged under his own, your giggles drowning out into muffled chuckles as your face burrows into the crook of his neck.

“I fell back asleep.” He mutters, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“I know.” You coo back, adjusting the curve of your back to a more comfortable position, tangling legs between his own until you’re thoroughly wrapped.

“You sound awake.” He mumbles back, squeezing at your waist with unmasked affection. “Were you up?”

“Yeah.” It’s an airy sort of confession, made to match the tender strokes of fingers reaching to scrape lovingly at his scalp. “Just watchin’ you sleep.”

“Perv.” He teases, kissing at your hair, mouth hungry and missing your skin entirely. He lights up as you giggle, his head lifting with heavy blinks to gaze down at you, hair pressed upwards into a lopsided mess. You do your best to pat it down for him. “You like what you see?”

You crook your head to the side, focusing your gaze in a tender expression. “Something like that.” His brow arches curiously, leaving you to laugh again. “I love you, you moron.”

His smile widens, head dropping to nuzzle his nose roughly into your cheek, lips catching on your jaw every so often with exaggerated noises of enthusiasm. “Love you too, baby.”

There is silence for a minute, nothing but his lips dragging affection across the planes of your cheek, his hands wandering underneath the fold of your bedshirt to press fingertips into fading stretch marks across your hips. You’re worried he’ll fall asleep again, and you know you don’t have the heart today to wake him a second time.

“You want breakfast? I can make jam on toast?”

He hums a happy sound, though does nothing to release his grip on you. “Yeah, okay. Gonna have to escape me, though. Can’t make my arm move.”

He pretends to try and shuffle his grip, putting on a little show with a pout when his hold does not dislodge. You roll your eyes, brushing the pad of your thumb against his brow bone.

“Five more minutes, then.”

Steve was back asleep within three.

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maryrouille · 5 months

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Toxic romanticization of studying

In a word of introduction, my profile partly shows that studying and exploring is wonderful. But as a person involved in science*, I would like to show healthy and true patterns of this beautiful adventure in acquiring knowledge.

The inspiration for writing this post this time was not the phenomenon from Tumblr (although you can also observe it here), but from Pinterest. There you can come across cycles composed of quotes and photos whose aim is to motivate young girls to learn, succeed and get good grades. These images often also show examples of characters from movies, TV series or real life that you can aspire to be like. Overall, I have to agree that it really works! But I would like to draw attention to certain elements that need to be verified.

1. You shouldn't get up at 5am

First of all, the correct amount of sleep is one of the most important factors affecting the proper and effective functioning of our brain. During sleep, nerve cells regenerate, organize information acquired during the day and consolidate memory traces, which is directly related to learning. Lack of sleep increases impulsivity, deepens negative thinking and slows down the body's reaction time!

2. You can be a genius without good grades

Of course, good grades are a pleasant confirmation of our knowledge and praise for hard work. However, sometimes it is worth considering whether the structure of exams themselves, especially those with closed questions, affects the results. We often study for one specific exam, the knowledge of which may be very… limited and sometimes not useful, so it is worth prioritizing the topics that we study hard.

3. It's not cool to think you're better than others

We are different and have different priorities in life. It is also worth considering how many people escape from the rat race and start a slow, stress-free life. So we have to agree that judging people based on grades or responses under stress (sic!) is not cool.

The good thing about romanticizing studying

As I have already said, these types of collages are really motivating. So let's talk about what's great about them and what's worth highlighting and saving for later.

1. Knowledge is beautiful, but your outfit and surroundings can also be

We know that we should never judge a book by its cover, but… the issue of social perception painfully confirms that we do and will continue to do so because this is how our brains work. And isn't it nice when someone looks at us and thinks this girl is so classy?

Moreover, a nice outfit that makes us feel good gives us a lot of self-confidence. There are also many studies confirming the positive impact on motivation and concentration of a neat and aesthetic workplace.

2. Not just cramming, but also discovering

Broadening your horizons is easier with passion and real commitment. And to achieve this, the topics must really interest us. Not everyone has yet found something that they are extremely passionate about in science, so that is why you have to dig deeper and discover different areas.

3. Don't be afraid to use your knowledge in practice

Schools and universities, unfortunately, have their own rules and they do not always allow you to show your 100% potential. Thus, share your knowledge with others externally, write essays, blog and social media. This form of activity also makes you learn things faster and easier. In addition, contacts with others will expand your knowledge.

Therefore, I must say that it is worth choosing your inspirations carefully. Nothing helps you enjoy studying better than a clear head and lack of prejudices.

*This post was inspired by my own experience with studying. If anyone is interested, I think I can share my mistakes that did not help me in an academic adventure :)

#study aesthetic #healthy studying #study motivation #studyblr #dark academia #light academia #studyspo #study inspiration #study inspo #study blog #studying #productivitytips #studyblr community

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hier--soir · 9 months

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night breeze

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: joel comes home to find you sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes. warnings/tags: established relationship, consensual somnophilia, oral [f receiving], joel loves when you wear his clothes, premature ejaculation, reader wears joel's clothes; body type is not described explicitly but his boxers are described as "snug" on her thighs. word count: 1.8k masterlist follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is envisioned as a part of the ALP universe [set between 7 and 8] but it can be read as a stand alone.

The air is calm at dusk.

Soft and sweet against your skin, the smell of salt in your nostrils.

The sky is a kaleidoscope of purples and pinks and blues, and a slick orange sun drips and wanes until its belly kisses the ocean. Lower, lower, until the sky spins navy and the water pitches black. You float in that black darkness, unbothered by the heavy swells that rise and roll beneath you. The water is rocky and rough, though the waves never seem to break. Too far from the shore, they simply build and build, with no end in sight.

And the water should be icy, cold enough to chill you to the bone and set you shivering, but you just feel hot. A searing, stuffy heat that clings even as you float over the rolling masses, letting them lap at your neck and face. Humid and dry, you want nothing more than for the water to suck you in deeper. Down, down, until your body is covered, and your hair is a floating halo, and you are finally cool.

Yet as time passes, you find that it is not the water that is warm, but you. That stifling sticky sun that sank beneath the horizon now burns at the centre of you, red hot and raging, ready to rise again already.

You try to smother it, to tamp it down. Tangle your legs on the water’s surface and hold your breath, but it burns still. A scorching scratch at the inside of your skin, your skull, your chest cavity. And something crawls its way up through your chest now. Something loose-limbed and drowsy, working its way past your stomach, your lungs, your throat, your—

A ragged moan wakes you.

Your fingers twitch and tighten, gripping soft sheets. Eyes roll behind lids as you drift slowly into consciousness. The air in his bedroom is cold, but in the haze of your sleep-addled brain you can’t quite pinpoint why you’re so warm. Face down on a pillow, you blink lazily and start to piece together what’s happening.

Your shirt—Joel’s shirt—clings to your skin. Sweat beads along the skin of your back, soaking into the thin fabric. The waistband of his boxers is forgiving, resting against the soft flesh beneath your belly button, though the hem of each leg is snug around your thighs. Oh, your thighs…. something sturdy holds them apart.

Two solid weights pressing against the inside of your legs, spreading them wide across the bed. A third weight against the small of your back… a hand. Fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt, bunching the material at the base of your spine, keeping your stomach flush to the bed. Another moan startles you, sharpens your mind a little. Your tongue feels heavy, mind a slow blur as you realise that the sound came from your own mouth. And as that understanding sinks in, you finally feel it.

Something hot and wet, lapping at the dark fabric shielding your cunt. And you’re wet. Fucking hell, you’re so wet it’s near uncomfortable. The sopping material clings to your folds, a persistent tongue pressing it in deeper, soaking the material in your slick juices as they drip from you. You gasp, trying fruitlessly to turn your head and see over your shoulder in the darkness.

“S’me,” he says then, and his voice is a pained, haggard thing. Rough and wanton with desire, with need, muffled from how his face is buried between your thighs. “S’just me… fuck, m’sorry.”

“Joel,” you rasp, breathless as his tongue glances over your clit through his boxers. He groans and then the thick point of his nose is pressing between your cheeks, nudging at your covered asshole. The pressure there sharpens your senses to a point, and sends a surprised moan peeling from your throat.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just let me…” Joel inhales deeply, cursing under his breath when you lazily rut your sex back against his face.

“Jesus Christ,” you whimper. When you move your face, something damp tickles your cheek. Saliva, pooling out the side of your open mouth and leaving a small damp circle on his pillow. Embarrassment warms your face, but the sound of Joel moaning against your cunt is a welcome distraction.

Muscular shoulders keep your thighs wide open, and he mouths shamelessly at the material, licking and kissing everywhere he can reach, and it suddenly makes sense why you feel like you’re on the edge already. The boxers must be ruined; slick and spit mix together to soak the entirety of the fabric until it clings to your swollen skin.

“H-how… fuck, Joel, how long have you—”

“Don’t know,” he mumbles. “Twenty minutes? Fuck, I don’t—”

Lewd sucking noises fill the room and the muscles in your abdomen go rigid, mouth hanging wide open as his fingers curl around the gusset of the boxers, dragging them to the side. You moan and squirm against the bed as he dips his tongue between your folds, gliding it through the sloppy messy of you. His sounds match yours; hot exhales billowing against your exposed skin and sending goosebumps sprouting across the backs of your thighs.

Joel pulls back for a minute. Keeps the material pulled to the side, allowing the cool night air to dance across the scorching skin between your legs while he watches you drip for him.

“Got home late,” he apologises, and you twitch as his breath hits your centre. He’s still so close. “Jimmy needed help with somethin’ and I—fuck, it doesn’t matter, but you were so perfect. My good girl, all tucked up in my bed, wearin’ my fuckin’ clothes, just waitin’ for me.”

“Tried to stay awake.” You hum softly, trying to inch yourself back against his face. But Joel just tuts, and you feel a sharp sting as he nips at the skin of your thigh. You pout against his pillow, body going lax and pliant once more. “Wanted to fall asleep with you.”

“I know,” he soothes, licking over where his teeth marks mar your flesh. His lips dance higher and higher until his tongue flicks into your hole. He swears low, resting his forehead against the soft plush of your ass. “But this? Comin’ home to this… fuckin’ luckiest man in the world, I tell ya.”

It's slow and steady when he lets his mouth fall upon you again. Soft little licks around your lips, tracing the dips and folds of your labia, mapping out every inch of you before his tongue dares graze against your clit. And when he does finally make contact, you jolt and whimper, already acutely aware of that familiar tingle in your spine.

Unable to reach him, your fingers tangle uselessly in his sheets, entirely at his mercy as he devours you from behind. Thick thumbs spread you open for his eyes to see, keeping you apart as he licks broad strokes up the entirety of your cunt before lathing languid open-mouthed kisses against it. Hot and wet and needy, his moans vibrate through you, letting you know he loves this just as much as you. Maybe even more.

Your clit pulses against his tongue, alive with a throbbing heartbeat of its own. And with every swipe and glide and circle you feel that heat swirl stiffer in your belly, the wave building and building. You can feel the way your hole, painfully empty, clenches over and over around nothing but air, winking at him and begging for more.

The slippery sounds of your arousal fill the room once more and soon enough you’re keening his name beneath your breath, spurring him on as you imagine the way it must shine on his beard, his lips, even in the darkness.

“Please,” you mewl, drooling against his pillow still, vaguely aware of your saliva gliding down your neck, thick and viscous. “Joel, fuck me, I want it, want you—”

“I will,” he swears, but you can feel how rapt he is by this. How every facet of his attention is trained on keeping his mouth on your pussy, his tongue rubbing firm circles around your clit just how you like. He gasps and pants against you, nodding a little, groaning when his nose glides through your folds and your scent coats his nostrils. “I will, I will, I just need you like this a little longer. I will. Promise.”

His grip is tender against the crease of your thighs, fingers digging in right where your leg meets the flesh of your ass as he eats at you. And you can tell by the way his noises deepen, turning guttural and depraved, that he won’t be making good on that promise tonight. Know it from the way his face ruts forward into your core every few seconds that he must be grinding his leaking cock against the mattress, feverish and desperate for relief. And the mere thought of it, of him hot and hard, straining inside his pants, has the muscles in your legs going taut.

Joel murmurs your name, so soft under his breath. His long tongue dips inside of you and then strokes up to flick against your clit, and finally you dissolve under his mouth.

The orgasm flows through you much like the waves in your dream. Joel coaxes it out from deep in your stomach until you’re a wet trembling mess beneath him; nothing but a rolling mass of waves for the sticky sun to sink into. Warm and wet, the high laps at your body from every angle until the edges of your mind are fuzzy, molten heat drooling from your cunt and onto his grateful tongue as he groans.

He doesn’t let up those soft swirls of his tongue until your hips are twitching away and you’re whining his name, and begging him to come up here. And so he crawls up your body, movements slow and sleepy as he drops heavily against your back. Thick thighs bracket your own, and that scruffy chin sits against the slope of your shoulder as he presses a kiss and a drowsy mumble of hey baby behind your ear.

“That was nice.” You smile when he takes your earlobe between his teeth. Curious, you work a hand between your back and his chest, fingers trailing down until you reach the damp spot at the front of his trousers. He exhales roughly, hips jerking backward, sensitive. “Fuck, did you come?”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his smile sheepish and shy against your skin. You laugh, heart swelling and eyes falling shut as you let him tip you onto your side and pull you back against his chest. A broad palm snakes over your hip, fingers dancing beneath the band of the boxers to rest against your skin, and he squeezes the flesh there greedily. “Gonna fuck you in the mornin’,” he vows.

You hum, already half asleep again despite how chilled your skin turns as your sweat cools. “Gonna wake me up with your cock inside me, hm?”

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, his grip on you tightening. “Yeah, baby. I will.”

“Is that a promise?”

“S’a promise.”

thank you for reading x

#my writing #fic: night breeze #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ALP #somnophilia #cw consensual somnophilia

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sunnymoonxx · 3 months

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❝self destructive tendencies❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

● this is a 3rd pov, if you want to read 2nd pov, here●

summary: A week has passed since the battle on Khofar and the startling reveal of her former friend. Qimir, the man behind the mask and the murderer of her comrades took her to a remote island, far away from the Republic's surveillance, after she sustained severe injuries. She's been keeping her distance from him, trying to ignore her hidden feelings. Yet, when his thoughts merge with hers, the vow she made to herself becomes almost impossible to keep.

warnings: english is not my first language, sexual tension, lots of sexual tension, corruption, sexual themes/dreams, E Y E C O N T A C T, qimir, mentions of blood and injuries

author's note: I could not be a jedi I'd turn into aquaman if he asked me to join him

now playing, love in the sky by the weeknd

*:..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。♡౨ৎ 🍓｡˚🍰♡ ˚..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。♡ ︎

The moon hung low over the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the waves that lapped against the shores of the ghostly island. Qimir’s silhouette stood out against the backdrop of the night sky, his presence a constant reminder of the blood and carnage he left on Khofar. As she lay on the rough sand, the pain from her injuries pulsed faintly, and she could not shake the mixture of fear and thirst that his proximity stirred within her. The island was a planet unknown to her, and as much as she tried to examine the surface, its location remained elusive. She supposed it might have been somewhere in the Outer Rim or beyond. Somewhere where the Republic would have a difficult way of finding her. World away from the Republic’s watchful eyes, and here, with only Qimir for company, she felt both vulnerable and strangely contented.

She decided to relax on the beach, further away from Qimir’s constant presence that melted her thoughts. However, luck wasn't on her side; minutes after settling in, he walked past her to his favorite bathing spot, smirk on his face as he acknowledged her presence. It was late at night, her legs and arms sore from the repetitive training she put herself through. The island offered few diversions. Waiting for Qimir’s next move or for Sol to find her wasn’t her idea of a perfect day. The injuries covering her body were difficult to ignore, and she refused to let Qimir get close enough to her to heal them. She told herself she would rather bleed out than feel his touch on her skin. Deep down, though, she knew the real reason for keeping him at bay.

So, she lay there, absentmindedly playing with a rock she found, irritated by his presence but too weary to consider moving again. She had to admit her fault; she had set up camp right in front of his favorite spot. Over the past week, she had seen him bare many times. First unbothered but lately it had gotten under her skin. She had been friends with Qimir for some time before discovering his true identity behind the mask and his responsibility for her friends' murders. Their deaths pained her, but the betrayal and realization of his deception cut deeper. After many years, she thought she found herself a friend outside the temple. One that she could share her interests and secrets with, without the fear of being judged by the Jedi. She told him about her fears and likes. Her doubts in the order and her wish to help people as much as she could. About her hate and desire. The Sith emotions. Now he’s using them to lure her in and trap her on the other side.

She wasn’t the most perceptive, but his intentions were clear. He knew her feelings, her likes, and dislikes; she had shared them with him when she believed he was her friend and a supplier. Even a blind person could see his thoughts, and her strength in the Force allowed her to delve into his mind, revealing more than she wished to know.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he slowly shed his clothes to enter the water, a routine he seemed to relish. Despite her experiences in battles and missions, witnessing the horrible conditions and lack of hygiene, even her comrades didn’t bathe as frequently as Qimir did before her. She considered herself fortunate; at least he smelled good, even if the scent of sandalwood mixed with citrus fruit drove her mad. She smelled it when she woke up, during meals and training, and before sleep. She felt him everywhere. She wasn’t sure for how much longer she could endure it.

She studied the muscles of his back as he swam slowly, admiring them from her vantage point. He was undeniably strong, scars marring his skin a testament to the pain he had endured. She observed how his dark hair moved with his motions, how he ran his long thick fingers through it while washing it gently. His biceps tensed as he splashed water around his neck, and she noticed the way he caressed his chest, attempting to cleanse away the day’s dirt.

It was only when she accidentally crushed the rock in half that she realized the intensity of her stare. Clearing her throat, she sat up and leaned against the mossy bank behind her, feeling shame wash over her. She was convinced his own dreams had started to corrupt her.

One of the curses of being a Jedi was the ability to read minds, and Qimir was no exception. She saw his thoughts vividly, filled with bright colors that sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. She wondered if he wanted her to delve into his mind, to make her believe he desired her, or if he simply didn’t care. She feared he could read her thoughts too, despite her lifelong ability to block out others with ease.

She lied to herself, convincing herself that she was immune to his ideas, desires, and magnetic charm. But every time he looked at her, towered over her, or she smelled him in the air, her knees buckled, her stomach tightened, and she fought against the need to press her legs together. She felt sick, and his mind brushing against hers didn’t help.

She felt it every time he drew near. He visualized her hands in his mind, how they caressed his scars and shoulders. She saw his hair falling down as he towered over her, gently pushing her against the cold floor of his cave. She felt his breath against her neck, his fingers pulling her hair, his skin pressed against hers. In his dreams, she never resisted. He was corrupting her in his dreams, and she never once objected in them. She was embarrassed he got her mannerisms right.

She was so lost in their shared thoughts that she didn’t notice Qimir making his way out of the water, his eyes fixated on her with dangerous intensity. He carefully leaned down to grab a towel, amusement playing on his lips. He didn’t want to wake her from her thoughts, whatever they may have been.

As he gently dried himself with the soft cloth, not taking his eyes off her, he tried to read her mind, even if he failed millions of times before. He never had difficulty reading someone; one look at them and he could see their whole past. But with her, he had no idea what she was thinking or planning, or what images played in her head. She was strong, stronger than the ones he had met before, and he admired that. He praised her strength in the Force and her ability to protect herself from her nemesis. Like him.

But he could read body language. He noticed how she tensed around him when he walked past her. How her chest started rising faster whenever he stared her down. Her goosebumps when they brushed against each other. How she pressed her legs together when he towered over her. And how she was now crushing the rock in her hand, gazing in his direction.

“You can always join me, you know that.” He breathed out, letting the cloth fall to the ground, replacing it with his long blouse. She almost wanted to take the top from him just so she could continue her view, but when she finally recollected her thoughts, she wanted to slap herself. “It would help with your wounds when you don’t let me heal them.” He uttered, dressing himself, not breaking eye contact with her. He liked her stare. He liked how she fought with her emotions and how they reflected in her eyes. It pleased him.

“I’m okay,” she faked a smile, swallowing the ridiculous amount of saliva in her mouth. She forced herself to look somewhere other than his strong forearms or how he dragged the pants up his muscular legs. She found a cute shell, admiring it from afar.

She didn’t catch the grin on his face as her face turned pink and she clenched her fists. He was amused with her reactions, but her ripped bandage and the blood revealing itself underneath caught his full attention. His face froze, along with his movements while buttoning up his shirt. He would never touch her unless she wanted him to, but her leg was nowhere near being healed and with the lack of medical supplies on this island, she’d lose it long before she’d be able to leave the island.

“Let me help you.” It wasn’t a question, more of a subtle order. She didn’t miss it. A week ago, on Khofar, Qimir had stopped himself before fatally hurting her, but he still landed a strike on her leg that had trouble healing. She was stubborn enough to push him away when he offered his help, and now she started to slowly regret it.

“I don’t need anything from you,” she hissed at him, catching a glimpse of his unbuttoned blouse.

“You’re a powerful Jedi, and I don’t doubt you’d be still as fierce as you are now without your leg,” he murmured, making his way towards her, leaving his bag and shoes near the water. “If you want to risk it.” She watched him tilt his head as he slowly approached her. She could only see the images in his mind, his plans and ideas. But underneath it all, he didn’t mean it in a bad way. He wanted to help her. In his own way. He was her friend; he knew her weaknesses and strengths. He knew what she wanted, and he was willing to give it to her. But she couldn’t erase the lying and murder of her friends. She wanted her friend back. Maybe something else this time, but her trust in him had faded. Now it was just Qimir, confusing her thoughts and making her rethink her morals. She felt as disgusted with him as she felt with herself. But she understood him. Or at least tried to.

So, she didn’t oppose, letting him kneel in front of her, his hands carefully reaching out to her ripped bandage above her knee. He was so close she could smell him again. His hair fell into his face, covering his eyes that were focusing only on her wound. His fingers worked fast but tenderly as he lifted her thigh to unwrap the bandage. She swallowed hard, feeling his veiny hand below her leg. She was scared he could feel her burning skin, hoping he would mistake it as a result of the injury.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you on Khofar,” she heard him whisper, gripping the sand below her as he threw away the bandage, the cold air kissing her open wound. She almost heard pity in his voice. She was certain she imagined it.

She begged herself to look away, but her eyes betrayed her as they glared down at his hand that was almost as big as her thigh. He covered the wound, not touching it fully, concentrating on restoring her cells.

She was fascinated by how quickly the wound closed up, leaving only a small scar across her thigh. She had wanted to learn how to force heal ever since she lost her friend to a fatal injury as a kid, but the Jedi never taught her. No matter how hard she pleaded. Whenever she asked, they gave the same answer: only dark side users possess this power. She always felt it was ridiculous.

“How do you do it?” she managed to ask, ignoring Qimir’s confused stare as he picked up his head and drew his hand away from her. But he didn’t move position and kept kneeling between her feet. “How do you force heal?” she felt embarrassed asking, but he was one of her only chances to learn.

A soft smile crept to his lips as he moved his eyes from her face to her hands. She suddenly became aware of her vulnerable position.

“In order to heal someone,” he started, softness in his voice, no signs of mockery. “You need to focus on your own energy, imagine it and visualize it. Imagine its color, like you do with the Force.” He continued, his hands moving in motion with his words.

She could feel the warmth radiating off him as he sat centimeters away, his wet hair framing his sharp features. His eyes were dark, only the light of the moon reflecting in them. His lips were full, stretched as he shared his knowledge with her. She didn’t move a muscle and returned his stare. It was only the two of them.

“The Jedi teach only one way. Physical way. Taking your physical energy and giving it to someone who needs it,” he whispered, leaning his head to the side, giving her a view of his sharp jaw. His neck was thick, his collarbones defined. “But there is another way.” He stopped to look at her, examining her expression. She was listening intently, breathing fast, and her eyes bored so deeply into him he was certain she could read everything he was thinking. He let her.

“Below the surface of consciousness are powerful emotions. Anger. Fear. Loss.” He started listing, his eyes twitching between her eyes and her lips. “Desire.”

Her leg muscles twitched, her core burning up. She wanted to bury herself.

“Only Sith feel those emotions,” she whispered back, denying herself. She saw a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth before he lowered his gaze.

“You can draw energy from them, direct them in any way you want,” he purred, looking back at her, letting her feel his emotions. “However, whenever you want.” He lowered his voice as he stretched the last words, reading her face.

He knew she read his mind. He knew she saw the images that kept him awake and his wishes. He had had them since he met her months ago, and when he sensed her attraction toward him, they only intensified. He wanted her and was simply waiting for her to admit the same to herself, no matter how long it would take.

#star wars #qimir the acolyte #qimir #osha x qimir #star wars qimir #qimir smut #qimir x reader #qimir fic #acolyte ep6 #the acolyte #star wars the acolyte #starwars fic #star wars smut #starwars

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malavera · 1 month

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Echoes Beneath the Waves (18+) — Logan Howlett One Shot

summary: In which the big bad wolverine gets lured to play with the ocean’s beauty.

pairings: logan howlett x siren!mutant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI. Allusions to smut, naked make-out session.

credit: divider is from @firefly-graphics 🤍

The night was a canvas of shadows, with the lonely moon hanging as its only brushstroke of light. A biting breeze whipped through the darkness, and the relentless roar of the waves echoed against the shore, as if the ocean itself refused to rest. Laughter faded into the distance, swallowed by the night, as Logan drifted away, seeking solace in his own isolation.

Once he was far enough from the others, Logan lit his cigar, the soft glow briefly illuminating his face. He settled onto a large rock, just high enough to keep the waves from reaching his feet, and let the quiet of the night envelop him.

His gaze fixed on the horizon, where the ocean seemed to go on forever. The sky is painted dark grey until he saw a flicker of light coming from the middle of the ocean. His eyebrows furrowed together.

That’s odd, he thought.

Logan leaned forward, the cigar in his hand forgotten as he strained to catch every note of the enchanting melody. The music seemed to weave itself into the night, wrapping around him, pulling him closer to the ocean’s edge. He felt a strange compulsion, a pull that was both gentle and irresistible, urging him toward the water.

The light on the horizon grew brighter, pulsating in rhythm with the melody. It was as if the sea itself was calling to him, whispering secrets in a language he had never known but somehow understood. The world around him faded, the sounds of the crashing waves and distant laughter of his friends all but drowned out by the song that filled his ears and heart.

Without realizing it, he had risen to his feet, his legs moving of their own accord, carrying him closer to the shore. The rocks beneath him were cold and slick, but he paid them no mind. All that mattered was the light and the music, drawing him deeper into the night.

As he neared the water’s edge, the melody became clearer, more defined. It was a song of longing, of promises whispered on the wind. Logan’s heart ached with a strange, sweet sorrow, a yearning he couldn’t place. The light now shimmered on the waves, closer than before, beckoning him with its mysterious glow.

And then, she appeared.

Rising gracefully from the depths of the sea, a figure emerged, illuminated by the soft, ethereal light. The siren was unlike anything Logan had ever seen—beautiful, enchanting, and utterly seductive. Her long, flowing hair cascaded like liquid midnight over her bare shoulders, and her eyes, deep and alluring, locked onto his with a gaze that held both danger and desire.

She moved with an otherworldly grace, her voice weaving through the air as she sang, the melody now clearly coming from her lips. Each note seemed to hold him captive, drawing him in further, until he was standing ankle-deep in the water, unable to resist her pull.

The siren reached out to him, her hand hovering just above the water’s surface, beckoning him closer. The cold ocean swirled around his legs, but all Logan felt was a strange, enveloping warmth as he stared into her eyes, utterly entranced. In that moment, the world around him faded—no fear, no hesitation, only the magnetic pull of her presence.

But as their hands were about to touch, the siren suddenly gasped, choking on her own breath. Logan’s hand, which had been reaching for hers, seemed to move with a will of its own, and now it was wrapped tightly around the delicate, shimmering throat of the beautiful creature before him.

“You’re trying to mess with my mind again, aren’t you, fish?” Logan hissed, his voice low and dangerous as his grip tightened around her throat.

Her wide eyes glistened with a mix of surprise and something darker as she struggled against his hold. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he continued, his tone laced with a controlled fury. “Stay out of my head.”

With a final squeeze, he released her, watching as her legs—now human—settled onto the wet, rocky shore beneath them. She coughed, her breath ragged as she fought to regain control, but a mischievous smile soon curled her lips.

“You know I’ll always have my night dip, Logan,” she purred, her voice smooth despite the recent struggle. “It’s the humans who need to control themselves.”

She laughed then, a melodic sound that echoed through the night, her eyes gleaming with a playful challenge as she looked at his unyielding expression. “It’s almost as if you wanted me to draw you in.”

“M’not,” Logan muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, the siren’s laughter reverberating in his ears.

“Oh, but are you?” she teased, her tone dripping with mockery as she probed at the cracks in his carefully constructed walls.

Slowly, she reached for his hand again, this time with a softness that belied her earlier boldness. “Come on, swim with me. Just this once,” she coaxed, one eye winking playfully as she smirked. “I promise, this time it’s real. I’m not going to mess with your head.”

Her words were a vow, spoken with a mischievous grin that betrayed the truth—she was playing her game, but Logan knew better. And yet, despite knowing the risks, he felt himself give in. With a resigned sigh, he pulled away just enough to strip off his clothes, tossing them carelessly aside until he stood before her, bare and unguarded.

“This what you wanted?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the wariness underneath.

Her smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in her gaze as she took in the sight of him. “Perfect,” she murmured, the word slipping from her lips like a promise, as the waves whispered at their feet, the night drawing them both into its depths.

She reached for his hands once more, and this time, Logan didn’t resist. He allowed her touch, her fingers cool and delicate against his. With a coy smile, she began to step backward, gently pulling him with her, further and further into the dark embrace of the ocean.

The cold water climbed higher as they moved deeper, the chill biting at his skin, but Logan felt a strange warmth radiating from her touch, keeping him anchored to her. With each step, the waves lapped at their bodies, until they were both submerged in the icy depths.

As the water enveloped them, the siren’s legs shimmered, transforming before his eyes. What was once human flesh became a beautiful, dark blue tail, its scales glinting faintly in the moonlight. The transformation was seamless, mesmerizing, as if the ocean itself had claimed her once again.

She flicked her tail lightly, the movement graceful and fluid, sending ripples through the water as she held his gaze. The cold, the danger, everything faded into the background. All that remained was her—mysterious, enchanting, and impossibly close.

Logan was amazed. He had never seen anything more beautiful than the vision before him, you floating effortlessly in the water, your dark blue tail shimmering like a jewel beneath the surface.

You inched closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, "Close your eyes." Logan hesitated, unease flickering in his gaze, but something in your voice, in the way you looked at him, made him decide to trust you. After a moment, he let his eyes slowly drift shut, surrendering to the unknown.

A soft breath escaped your lips, brushing against his skin as you granted him the magic of your powers. The change was almost imperceptible, a gentle tingling that spread through him, filling him with a sense of calm and something more—something ancient and powerful.

"Now, open your eyes," you whispered, your voice like a melody woven into the wind. Logan obeyed, his eyes fluttering open to a world transformed. Everything seemed sharper, more vivid, as if he were seeing the ocean for the first time.

You gave him a knowing smile before slipping beneath the surface, your tail flicking gracefully as you began to descend into the depths. Without hesitation, Logan followed, plunging into the cold embrace of the water, drawn into the mysterious world that awaited below.

As Logan plunged beneath the surface, he expected darkness—a murky, cold abyss. But instead, the world around him came alive with vibrant light and color. The magic you had gifted him transformed the ocean into a realm of wonders he had never imagined.

The water, once dark and foreboding, now shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Schools of fish darted around him, their scales reflecting hues of turquoise, emerald, and gold. Coral formations, illuminated by a soft, ethereal light, stretched out like underwater forests, each structure more intricate and beautiful than the last. Logan felt as though he had stepped into a dream, a hidden world that only a few were ever privileged to see.

He swam deeper, following your graceful form as you glided effortlessly through the water, your tail shimmering like a beacon guiding him onward. The deeper they went, the more the ocean revealed its secrets. Strange, luminous creatures drifted by, their bodies pulsing with light, while the distant echoes of the sea created a symphony that filled the silence.

Logan’s senses were heightened, every detail sharper and more vivid than he could have ever imagined. He could feel the gentle currents caressing his skin, the pressure of the water embracing him, the rhythm of the ocean syncing with his heartbeat.

You paused and turned to him, your eyes reflecting the wonder of this underwater world, as if inviting him to share in the magic. Logan met your gaze, a sense of awe and gratitude welling up inside him. He had been drawn into the depths, but now, instead of fear, he felt an overwhelming connection to the ocean and to you, the one who had opened this new reality to him.

And there you are standing in front of him, enchantingly beautiful. Your perky full rounded tits, your sharp shoulders, your wide hips. All of a sudden, he yearns to lay those war-fought hands upon your magnetic body.

You smirked, a playful glint in your eyes as you swam closer to him. Logan watched you, mesmerized by your every movement. When your hands gently wrapped around his neck, his breath hitched, the connection between you two deepening with every passing second. Your fingers traced upward, caressing his skin, until your thumb softly grazed his bottom lip, sending a shiver through him.

Without hesitation, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like it could drown the world. The water around you seemed to still, the ocean itself holding its breath as you shared this moment. The kiss was tender yet intense, filled with the same magic that had transformed the depths into a world of wonder.

Then, as suddenly as the kiss began, the world around you shifted. The weightless sensation of the water was replaced by the solid feel of land beneath your feet. You were no longer in the ocean’s embrace but back on the shore, the waves gently lapping at the sand nearby.

Logan blinked in surprise, still feeling the warmth of your lips on his, the taste of saltwater lingering. The transition from the depths to the surface was disorienting, but the connection between you remained unbroken. You stood before him, the night air cool against your skin, your eyes still holding that knowing, playful glint.

Logan regained control of the heated moment, his instincts taking over as he flipped you onto your back, the soft sand cushioning your bare skin. Hovering above you, he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he tried to steady himself. For a brief moment, he just watched you, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

But all he saw was that damn smirk, the one that drove him wild.

"I'm not doing anything, Logan," you taunted, your voice a teasing whisper that sent a thrill down his spine. "It's your own hands that want to touch me."

You leaned upward, closing the space between you, your lips hovering just inches from his. The challenge in your eyes was unmistakable, daring him to take what he wanted, knowing full well that you had already captured his desire.

Logan growled before he roughly shove his lips against yours, pushing you back against the ground as his wandering hands begin to wonder around your body. Groping your tits roughly, earning a soft moan from you. You don't want to be useless, you let one hand find its way to his stomach before it lingers down towards the package that you're searching for.

Logan groaned once he feels your cold palm, wrapped around his raging-hard cock. He looks down to your lower body and noticed that your legs are still hidden away, your tail displayed upon him.

"You have two options, kid. Either you change them into that sexy, strong, legs of yours so I could fuck and cum deep inside your pussy. Or, I could just use your mouth and cums down your throat. Which ever do you want?"

let me know if you want this to be a series.. 👀

#Malavera #Logan howlett #Logan howlett one shot #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x mutant reader #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett imagine #wolverine #wolverine x mutant reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine reader

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ma1dita · 2 months

Note

A Luke and Trouble smut in the car

a/n: she's back.... and with a trouble!verse smut gasp. anyways if you haven't read the series all you need to know is luke calls her trouble. if you do wanna check it out, read 'partners in crime' here!

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader

wc: 1.1k

“We’re gonna be late,” you grumble under your breath. The sun is setting on Long Island faster than you and your boyfriend thought it would with the old hatchback slowly inching through Queens traffic.

There’s only an hour left before curfew.

And Luke Castellan drives like someone’s blind grandpa.

“Relax, babe—once we get onto the expressway, we’ll be straight sailing from there!” Luke says, with a hint of a smile prodding at his cheek. You were never a patient person, fidgeting in the passenger seat next to him, sweaty thighs stuck to worn leather. The air vents are tired, sounding like gasping coughs, and every car in New York City seems to be inching forward and unable to pick up the breeze.

“You said that forty minutes ago.”

“C’mon, it’s not all that bad, trouble. We get to have some extra time together. And be alone,” his voice is as smooth as the rumbling engine, taking his fingertips to the soft of your thigh. You’d find him sweet if you didn’t feel like ripping all your clothes off right now. “You know how rare that is for us.”

“M’just so hot, babe. I feel like I’m fucking dying,” you groan, exaggeratedly flopping over the console and onto his shoulder. He doesn’t mind being stuck to you like this, wet skin and shiny lips nuzzling against his neck and he licks a drop of sweat from his cupid’s bow. Your gentle kisses sear onto his skin and he has to inhale deeply, almost eyeing the horizon and daring for it to darken slower. Foot tapping on the brake a little too harshly, the car is a toe away from rolling into the one in front of you.

“You’re not going to die. Would be lame if you did.”

“But baby, it’s like I’m about to explode,” you whine louder, “feels like we’re sitting on the surface of the sun!” Even at his wits’ end, your boyfriend can’t find the gall to get mad at you. Especially when your tank top flies into his lap, right over the growing bulge in his shorts that’s keeping him hot and bothered. Luke almost goes nonverbal at the goosebumps that rise—and you haven’t even touched him yet. You’re fumbling with something, knocking around in your seat as he shakes his head and tries to focus on the road.

“Don’t.”

The car behind you honks slightly and he swallows dryly, running his hand through the wet mop of curls as he rolls forward. Fuck New Jersey drivers, he thinks, this guy shouldn’t have gotten a license—what!

“You should’ve just let me drive,” your voice disrupts his inner monologue, and he doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re grinning, “Would’ve gotten there faster than you, speedster.”

You know exactly what you’re doing.

“We’re gonna be late.” Hand flexing over the gear shift, his eyes dart across the road, quickly mapping out a path to the next exit. Your panties fall over his fist, a flash of black lace and damp with something other than just sweat.

“Aren’t you a son of Hermes? Make it work.”

Horns honking like a symphony, he weaves through traffic almost dangerously fast and not being able to do anything else but bite his lip when he hears you laugh through the chaos of it all.

—

“Sh–Shit! We’re gonna…”

Luke’s the one laughing now as he slaps a hand over your throat, pistoning deeper into your warmth, and fuck, everything about you feels like fire. It’s the type of burn that licks at you from the inside out—but Luke tends to it with vigor, feeling you with every inch of his being. Your hands slap onto his wrist to hold him there, eyes rolling back into your head with wispy breaths of bliss.

It’s dark now, and you’ve both somewhat safely stopped the car in a wooded area—Luke ripping off the rest of your clothes and his own before taking you belly-up in the backseat and your calves sitting pretty against his shoulders.

“Be late? You weren’t worried about that earlier,” he teases.

The illegal fireworks and other illicit goods you’re trying to smuggle back to camp jostle in a box on the ground, digging painfully into his shins but he’s too busy stamping his hands into the shape of your breasts, rubbing you down with the mixture of both of your sweat that rolls with the momentum of your bodies.

“Fuck, Luke!”

Looking down at you with heat in his gaze, his thumb prods at your swollen lips, tapping lightly for you to open up. You do without a single complaint. He loves you, yes—even when you’re mouthy, but you look extra pretty when he gets to fuck you dumb and there’s no one around to bother you two. Grunting, you can feel and hear your skin slap against his when he leans forward to delve deeper if it’s even possible. All of you is red-hot from his passion, cock thrusting harshly so much that you can feel it slam against your insides.

For a moment you think he must hate you—dancing on the line of hot and hurt.

Your eyes lock and you both grin.

“Let me take care of it. Gonna let me take care of you, right pretty girl?” He spits, a straight shot into your waiting mouth and an inhuman noise crawls up from your caged throat.

Leaning up to kiss him and grappling at his shoulders, he smiles into your pout, smeared lipgloss and runny mascara transferring onto his tanned skin. He loves it, knowing that you’re all over him and feeling branded by you even in the dark of the night.

A light flashes in your peripherals and you pull off him with a gasp.

“Is that a car?”

“We’re fine,” he grits, locking your legs around his waist and trying to focus—you’re so soft and soaking all over. His hands slip to your ass, clapping your cheek as he jerks his cock into you harder, making you whine. “They’re not… going this direction. Stop getting distracted.”

The heat builds from your core, pussy pulsing, and tears almost sizzling off your cheeks, so shiny and tempting that he licks a trail up to your ear.

“I don’t want you to stop. Don’t… you dare, Luke. Fuck!”

Light filters through the darkness behind your eyelids as you grind yourself on his lap rapidly, chasing your high until the end. In a few hours from now, it’s back to business—but Luke has always been one to remind you of your mischievous side.

“Shit, trouble,” he sighs in bliss.

A blip of a siren goes off from outside, followed by quickly approaching footsteps towards your foggy windows.

“Shit,” you repeat back to him with wide eyes, untangling your legs and quickly trying to find your magic Zippo lighter through the mess of clothes at your feet.

—

Lessons were learned, and Connor and Travis were elected to go on supply runs from then on.

#luke castellan x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan smut #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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d1stalker · 1 month

Text

Embers of Connection [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You're not like him. In fact, you're not like any of them. Maybe that's why he doesn't trust you-- why he doesn't want to trust you. But, time and time again, you prove him wrong.

Warnings: none really. lowkey enemies to friends to lovers.... kind of slow burn. fem!reader/afab!reader - maybe some grammatical errors

WC: 6.3k - MASTERLIST

The mansion was quiet as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the lawn. Inside, the halls of the Xavier Institute were just beginning to stir, the students slowly waking to another day of training, learning, and discovery. But in a room far removed from the rest of the school, a figure sat alone, her eyes fixed on the window, lost in memories of a past long gone.

You were not a mutant, at least not in the way the students at the school understood the term. You came from a lineage so ancient, so steeped in myth and legend, that even the oldest books could not fully capture the truth of your people—a race of beings who walked the earth with the grace and power of dragons, feared and revered in equal measure.

But that was long ago, before the rise of mutants, before the world had changed. Your people had been hunted, exterminated by those who feared the strength you carried within your veins. You had been just a child when it happened, too young to understand why your world was being torn apart. One of them, moved by pity or perhaps some deeper sense of guilt, had spared your life, hiding you away until the danger had passed.

You had wandered for years, alone and afraid, never staying in one place for too long. You learned how to conceal your wings, hide your sharp nails, and conceal your powers. The world had changed, and you had no place in it, no home to return to. It was by chance that you crossed paths with Charles Xavier, a man of immense power and wisdom, who saw in you not just a relic of a forgotten time, but a soul in need of protection and understanding. He had taken you in, offered you a place in his school, not as a student but as something else—something he himself could not fully define.

And so you stayed, a silent observer in a world that was not yours, learning from the shadows, watching as the young mutants trained and grew, honing their powers under Charles’ guidance. You were an enigma to them, a being from another time, another world. Some were curious, others wary, but none dared to challenge you.

Until Logan arrived.

You sensed his presence before you saw him, a raw, untamed energy that crackled through the air like a storm on the horizon. The students whispered about him, their voices hushed with a mixture of awe and fear. The Wolverine, they called him—a man who had seen more battles than he could count, whose past was as blood-soaked as it was mysterious.

You were in the garden when he first laid eyes on you. He was alone, his expression dark and brooding as he walked across the grounds, clearly uncomfortable in this place of peace and learning. His gaze swept over the students, then landed on you, standing apart from the others, your wings folded close to your back, your scales glinting in the morning light.

His eyes narrowed, and you could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the suspicion that curled like a shadow behind those intense, feral eyes. He approached, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You’re not a mutant,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

You met his gaze, unflinching. “No, I’m not.”

“Then what are you?” There was no warmth in his tone, only a cold curiosity.

“A survivor,” you replied steadily, though your heart beat faster at the memory of what you had survived. “My people were hunted to extinction long before you were born.”

Logan’s expression hardened, and he took a step closer, his stance challenging.

“So why are you here? What do you want?”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him with the same intensity he gave you. “I could ask you the same thing. But I’m here because Charles offered me a place, a sanctuary. He’s curious about what I am… and he believes I need protection.”

“Protection from what?” Logan’s tone was edged with skepticism, as if he didn’t believe you were a threat to anything or anyone.

“From the world,” you answered simply. “And perhaps… from myself.”

He scoffed, the sound harsh and dismissive. “You don’t know what it’s like, being a mutant. You’re just hiding here, playing along, pretending to understand.”

You bristled at his words, your wings twitching with the urge to unfurl, to show him just how much power you held within you. But you held back, staying calm.

“And you don’t know what it’s like to be the last of your kind, to watch everything you’ve ever known be destroyed. We all have our battles. Just because mine are different doesn’t mean they’re any less real.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find the lie in your words. But there was none to be found, and that seemed to unsettle him more than anything.

“Just stay out of my way,” he growled, turning sharply and walking away without waiting for a response.

You watched him go, a mixture of anger and sadness swirling in your chest. You had known the moment you met him that Logan would be a challenge, a force of nature that would not be easily swayed or understood. But you hadn’t expected the sting of his words, the way they cut deep into the wounds you had thought long healed.

Over the next few months, you and Logan avoided each other as much as possible. He made it clear he didn’t trust you, and you made it equally clear you didn’t care for his attitude. The students quickly picked up on the tension between you, giving you both a wide berth whenever you were in the same room.

But Charles Xavier, ever the strategist, saw something neither of you did—a potential for growth, for understanding, if only you were forced to confront each other. So, when a mission came up that required both your skills, he sent you out together, despite your protests.

The mission was simple in theory—retrieve an artifact from a group of rogue mutants who had stolen it. But from the moment you and Logan set foot in the field, it was clear that working together was not going to be easy.

Logan, used to working alone, resisted your attempts to coordinate, charging ahead without a plan and nearly jeopardizing the mission in the process. You, trained in patience and strategy, found his reckless approach infuriating, and the two of you clashed at every turn.

The mission was ultimately successful, but it came at a cost—your mutual respect for each other (well, whatever had existed of it to begin with). The animosity between you only deepened, cementing your status as strangers within the walls of the school.

---

Enveloped in the forest's ancient embrace, you walked among towering trees that stood like silent sentinels. Their gnarled branches wove together, forming a dense canopy that swallowed most of the light. Cool, damp air hung heavy with the earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves. Each step sank into the soft, spongy ground, the stillness occasionally interrupted by the rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird.

You moved with purpose, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. Logan walked a few paces behind you, his expression as unreadable as ever. Charles had sent the two of you on this mission with little more than a vague explanation, and the tension between you had only grown as you ventured deeper into the wilderness.

“You sure this is the right way?” Logan’s voice broke the silence, gruff and tinged with impatience.

You didn’t bother turning to face him. “I’m sure.”

He let out a low grunt, clearly not satisfied with your answer. “I still don’t get why Xavier sent me with you. Seems like you could’ve handled this on your own.”

You bit back a retort, knowing that engaging in another argument wouldn’t get you anywhere. “Maybe he thought you could learn something.”

“Learn what?” Logan scoffed. “How to wander aimlessly in the middle of nowhere?”

You stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “You’re here because Charles thinks you need to understand what I’m dealing with. This isn’t just another mission, Logan. It’s personal.”

His gaze hardened, but there was a flicker of something else—something softer—beneath the surface. “And what exactly are you dealing with?”

You hesitated, unsure how much you wanted to reveal. The memories of your past were painful, buried deep for a reason. But you knew that if you were going to work together, he needed to know.

“There’s an ancient temple hidden in this forest,” you began, “It’s said to hold a clue—something that could lead me to the mutants who destroyed my people. I’ve been searching for answers for years, and this is the closest I’ve ever come.”

“And you think finding this clue will give you what you need?”

You nodded, the weight of your words pressing down on you. “I have to believe that it will. My people were wiped out—hunted down and killed because of what we were. I’m the last of my kind, and I need to know why.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze locked on yours. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and hoarse, almost hesitant. “I know what it’s like to lose everything. To have your whole world ripped away from you. But revenge… it doesn’t bring peace.”

“This isn’t about revenge,” you said firmly, though part of you knew it wasn’t entirely true. “It’s about closure. About understanding.”

Logan didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told you he understood more than he was letting on. He turned away, resuming his trek through the forest, and you followed, the tension between you easing slightly.

The journey was long and arduous, the dense undergrowth making progress slow. The further you went, the darker the forest became, the ancient trees blocking out the sun entirely. It was as if the forest itself was warning you to turn back, but you pressed on, driven by the need to find the temple.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you reached a clearing. In the center stood the temple, its stone walls covered in vines and moss, its entrance a dark, gaping maw that seemed to swallow all light. The air around it was thick with an ominous energy, as if the very ground was infused with the memories of the past.

“This is it,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Logan.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the temple. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

With that, you stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the temple. The air inside was cool and damp, the stone walls slick with moisture. The only light came from the narrow beams of sunlight that managed to filter through cracks in the ceiling, casting long shadows across the floor.

The deeper you went, the more the oppressive feeling grew. You could feel it in your bones, a sense of foreboding that made your skin crawl. But you didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, even as the darkness closed in around you.

Finally, you reached the heart of the temple. In the center of the chamber stood an ancient altar, covered in strange markings that seemed to pulse with a faint, eerie aura. But what caught your attention was the object lying on the altar—a small, intricately carved stone, glowing with a soft, ethereal light. You found yourself moving towards it subconsciously, almost in a trance.

Logan hung back, his senses on high alert. “Be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

You nodded, reaching out to take the stone. The moment your fingers touched it, a surge of energy shot through you, and you gasped, the memories flooding back in a rush.

You saw your people, the Draconic, living in harmony with nature, their wings glinting in the sunlight, their scales shimmering like jewels. But then came them, their faces twisted with fear and hatred, their powers unleashed in a torrent of destruction. You saw the fires, heard the screams, felt the pain of loss as your world crumbled around you.

And you saw them—the creatures who led the charge, who ordered the slaughter. Their faces were burned into your memory, and now, thanks to the stone, you had the knowledge you needed to track them down.

But your moment of revelation was short-lived. As you turned to show Logan the stone, you noticed something else—a series of dark shapes lying dormant against the walls of the chamber. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized what they were.

Dozens, hundreds of them, the ones responsible. Their bodies encased in some sort of stasis, their forms twisted and unnatural. These were the ones who had destroyed your people, the ones who had brought death and destruction to your world. And now they were here, waiting.

“We need to leave. Now,” you whispered urgently, your heart pounding in your chest.

Logan’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the sleeping mutants. “Agreed. Let’s get out of here before they wake up.”

You moved quickly, retracing your steps toward the entrance. But as you passed one of the mutants, Logan accidentally brushed against it, his claws scraping against the stone. The sound echoed through the chamber, and you froze, your heart skipping a beat.

The creatures began to stir, their eyes snapping open, glowing with an unnatural light. Groans and snarls filled the air as the creatures awoke. Panic surged through you, the sight of the mutants awakening bringing up old, buried fears. You didn’t need to be told twice. You bolted for the entrance, Logan close behind, but the mutants were faster, their rage propelling them forward.

“Go!” Logan urged, grabbing your arm as the enemies began to move toward you.

But, in a effort to delay their advances, you had an idea. A surge of primal instinct took over, and you felt a transformation deep within you. Your eyes flashed, glowing with a fierce, emerald shade as they narrowed into slitted dragon-like orbs.

With a deep breath, you summoned the power of your ancestors. Flames erupted from your mouth, a torrent of blazing fire that swept across the chamber. The first wave of predators got caught in the flames, their forms writhing in the intense heat. The ancient stone walls glowed with the reflected light, casting long, flickering shadows. Now was your only opportunity for escape.

You unfurled your wings, the leathery membranes catching the air as you leaped into flight, grabbing Logan’s arm and dragging him with you. The temple walls blurred past as you flew through the corridors, the remaining mutants hot on your trail.

“Hang on!” you shouted, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind.

Logan didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the creatures chasing you. They were relentless, their fury palpable as they closed in, their powers crackling in the air around them. Logan clung to you, feeling a mix of awe and frustration. The cool wind whipped around but inside, he felt the sting of helplessness. He had always prided himself on his physical prowess, his ability to fight, to survive. Yet here he was, carried like a child by someone he had barely trusted.

Whatever these predators were, they were fast in their pursuit. However, you were faster. You burst out of the temple and into the open air, your wings propelling you forward with all the strength you could muster. They followed, but they were no match for your speed.

You swooped low, diving into the dense forest below, weaving through the trees with precision. Logan felt his his claws digging into your scales, but you barely noticed, your focus entirely on evading the threat. Watching the forest shrink beneath him, he felt a deep sense of inadequacy. He had been the one to get them into this mess, and now, instead of being the hero or the savior, he was reduced to a mere passenger. The raw power you displayed was breathtaking, but it also highlighted just how little he had known about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you lost them. You landed in a small clearing, breathing heavily, your wings trembling from the exertion. Logan released his grip, dropping to the ground beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened settling over you. The danger had passed, but the tension remained, a lingering reminder of how close you had come to disaster.

Logan was the first to break the silence. “You saved my ass back there.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “You would’ve done the same.”

He nodded, his gaze meeting yours. “Maybe. But I didn’t know you could do all that. The wings, the speed… the power. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than I thought.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I’m just trying to survive.”

“You’re more than that,” he said quietly. “You’re a fighter. And I… I respect that.”

The tension between you shifted, the animosity that had defined your relationship beginning to melt away. You saw Logan in a new light, not just as a stubborn, solitary warrior, but as someone who understood pain and loss, someone who had his own demons to face. And as he stared at you, he caught a glimpse of the fierce determination that drove you. In that look, he saw not just a fellow X-Men but a formidable warrior with her own battles and her own story. He understood now that you were more than he had given you credit for.

“Thanks,” you said softly, “For helping me. For trusting me.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “We’re a team now, right? So let’s do this together.”

And in that moment, something shifted between you. It wasn’t quite friendship, but it was a start—an understanding, a shared sense of purpose. You smiled.

---

A few days later you and Logan find yourselves on the balcony of the mansion, taking in the peaceful surroundings. Logan leans against the wooden railing, his eyes lost in the horizon.

“Never really get used to these quiet times, do you?” Logan mutters, taking a drag from his cigar.

You sit beside him, your posture relaxed but alert. “It’s a stark change from the chaos, that’s for sure. But I guess we need these moments to recharge.”

Logan exhales a plume of smoke, glancing over at you. “Recharge, huh? I guess you really did a number back there. Flying us out, unleashing fire… It made me rethink a lot of things.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? What are you thinking now?”

He shifts, his expression thoughtful. “I thought you were just another oddity at the school. But seeing you in action… You’ve got a lot more going on than I realized. There’s a strength there I didn’t see before.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that from you.”

Logan shrugs, a faint grin on his face. “I guess we both have our surprises.”

You laugh lightly. “Seems like it. I’ve seen a different side of you too. You’re not just the gruff loner I thought you were.”

Logan’s eyes soften. “Yeah, well, I suppose I’ve got my own stuff to work through. You’re not the only one with a past.”

“You’re right,” you say, your tone gentle. “We all carry our burdens.”

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, the evening’s calm settling in. Logan reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, crumpled piece of paper. He unfolds it carefully, revealing a sketch of the ancient temple you explored. It captures the essence of the place—its grandeur and hidden menace.

“I drew this after our mission,” Logan says, offering it to you. “Thought you might like it.”

You accept the sketch, your fingers tracing the lines. “It’s really good. Thank you. No one’s ever taken the time to understand the significance of these places to me before.”

Logan chuckles, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess we’re not so different after all. We’ve both got our own battles”

“Yeah. And we’re fighting them together now.”

Logan’s grin widens slightly. “Let’s try not to make a habit of almost getting killed, though.”

---

Realizing the potential he saw in you and Logan wasn’t a hoax, Charles assigned you to more missions together, hoping to strengthen the bond between you and harness your combined skills. Each mission brought its own challenges, but the respect and understanding you had developed for one another made you an unstoppable duo.

There was a palpable shift in the air during these joint ventures. Logan’s gruff exterior softened around you, and his trust in your abilities grew. You, in turn, found yourself relying on his raw strength and experience more than you ever expected. The missions, though often intense, became a testament to your growing synergy.

One day, however, Charles decided to send Logan on a mission without you. The decision came with good intentions—Logan needed to work independently to regain his confidence and show that he could handle situations on his own. He was sent to investigate a lead on a dangerous group of mutants that had surfaced. It should’ve been routine. In and out, minimal resistance, standard extraction. But nothing about your life ever goes according to plan, and this time is no exception.

The distress call came through late at night, jarring you awake from a restless sleep. The voice on the other end was strained, panicked. Logan’s voice. You had never heard him like that before.

“They got me,” he had said, the roughness in his voice edged with something you hadn’t heard from him before—fear. “Don’t know who they are, but they’re… strong. Can’t fight ’em off.”

The line went dead before you could respond, leaving you wide-eyed and breathless in the darkness.

Now, standing on the deck of a small boat cutting through choppy waters, you replay those words in your mind, over and over. The coordinates he managed to send you led to a remote island, far off any known maps—a place of whispers and legends, rumored to be inhabited by creatures of immense power and terrifying abilities. Mutants, yes, but something else too. Something different.

Cyclops-like mutants. You remember the stories from the older X-Men, of a time when creatures with a single, glowing eye roamed the earth. You had been too busy mourning the loss of your people to be aware of what else was going on around the world. They had been driven to extinction, or so everyone thought. But it seems that, just like the ones who destroyed your kind, they had simply been lying in wait.

You glance at the island now coming into view, its rocky cliffs rising sharply from the water, shrouded in mist. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you sense the power emanating from the place, the dark, ancient energy that pulses like a heartbeat beneath the surface.

There’s no turning back. You tighten your grip on the wheel, the wind whipping through your hair as you steer the boat toward a small, concealed cove. It’s time to see just how far your powers can take you.

You drop anchor in the shallows, the boat rocking gently as you strip down to your tactical suit. The fabric clings to your body, designed to be lightweight and flexible, perfect for what you’re about to do. With a deep breath, you dive into the water, feeling the cool embrace of the ocean as you slip beneath the surface.

As soon as you’re fully submerged, the change begins. Your skin hardens, taking on a faint shimmer as it transforms into scales. Your fingers and toes elongate, webbing forming between them, allowing you to cut through the water with incredible speed. Your vision sharpens, the murky depths of the ocean becoming clear as day.

You swim toward the island, your movements silent and fluid, a predator in your own right. The water is your domain, and you move through it with ease, your body perfectly adapted to the environment. You can feel the power coursing through your veins, the ancient, draconic energy that makes you who you are. It’s exhilarating, but you keep it in check, focusing on the task at hand.

The cove is narrow, hidden by jagged rocks that would tear apart any normal vessel. But you slip through them effortlessly, the scales of your skin providing protection against the sharp edges. You surface silently, peering over the edge of the rocks to get a better look at the island’s interior.

It’s as eerie as you imagined, a landscape of twisted trees and dark shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. And there, in the center of it all, is a massive stone fortress, old and crumbling, yet still formidable. It’s clear that the cyclops mutants have made this place their home, and it’s equally clear that Logan is being held inside.

Your heart clenches at the thought of him, trapped and possibly tortured, and you have to force yourself to remain calm. Logan is tough—one of the toughest people you know—but even he has his limits. You have to reach him before those limits are tested too far.

With a final deep breath, you haul yourself out of the water, your body instantly adapting to the new environment. Your skin returns to its normal state, the webbing between your fingers and toes retracting as you prepare to move on land. You move quickly, keeping to the shadows as you approach the fortress.

The entrance is heavily guarded, as you expected. Two massive cyclops mutants stand watch, their single glowing eyes scanning the area with unnerving precision. You study them for a moment, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. They’re strong, undoubtedly, but you have the advantage of surprise and agility. You crouch low, waiting for the right moment. When one of the guards shifts slightly, turning his attention away from the entrance for just a second, you make your move. In a blur of motion, you spring forward, your claws extending as you strike. The first guard doesn’t even have time to react before your claws rip through his throat, silencing him instantly.

The second guard is more alert, swinging a massive fist toward you, but you’re already moving, ducking beneath his arm and driving your claws into his chest. His eye widens in shock before the light fades, and he collapses to the ground with a heavy thud.

You don’t waste any time, slipping inside the fortress before anyone else can notice. The interior is as dark and foreboding as the exterior, with narrow, twisting corridors that seem to go on forever. You move silently, your senses on high alert as you navigate the labyrinth of stone and shadow.

You find Logan in the deepest part of the fortress, chained to a wall in a small, dimly lit cell. He looks battered but not broken, his eyes narrowing in defiance as he glares at the door, ready to fight anyone who comes through it. But when he sees you, his expression softens, a mixture of relief and concern flickering in his gaze.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbles.

“Would’ve been here sooner if you hadn’t let yourself get caught,” you retort, already working on the chains that bind him.

He snorts. “Didn’t exactly have a choice. These bastards are stronger than they look.”

You nod, your expression serious as you focus on freeing him. “I know. But we’ll figure a way out. Together.”

Logan’s chains fall to the ground with a heavy clatter, and he flexes his wrists, testing his strength. “Together? Sounds good to me.”

You help him to his feet, steadying him as he takes a moment to regain his balance. He’s clearly been through hell, but he’s still standing, still fighting. It’s one of the things you’ve always admired about him, even when you couldn’t stand his attitude.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he mutters, his voice low and dangerous.

You nod, but before you can move, a deep rumbling sound fills the air, the walls vibrating with the force of it. The ground beneath your feet trembles, and you realize with a sinking feeling that the cyclops mutants know you’re here.

“Time to go,” you say urgently, grabbing Logan’s arm and pulling him toward the exit.

The two of you move quickly, navigating the twisting corridors with practiced ease. But it’s not long before the mutants catch up to you, their heavy footsteps echoing through the fortress as they close in. You can hear their growls, low and menacing, and you know you’re in for a fight.

Logan doesn’t need any encouragement. He’s already on the prowl, his claws extended as he charges toward the nearest mutant. The two of you fight side by side, a lethal combination of strength and raw power. Logan’s claws tear through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency, while you use your claws and wings to strike with precision and speed.

But the cyclops mutants are relentless, their sheer size and strength making them formidable opponents. For every one you take down, two more seem to take their place. The battle is intense, the air filled with the sound of clashing steel and guttural roars.

In the midst of the chaos, one of the mutants lands a heavy blow to Logan’s side, sending him crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. Your heart lurches as you see him go down, and something inside you snaps. A fierce, draconic roar escapes your lips as your wings unfurl, their scales gleaming in the dim light. Your body shifts, your scales hardening as your claws grow longer and sharper.

You launch yourself at the mutants with a ferocity you’ve never felt before, your claws tearing through their defenses like paper. Your wings whip through the air, knocking them off balance, while your scales protect you from their attacks. It’s a dance of death, a whirlwind of power and accuracy that leaves the mutants reeling.

From his place on the ground, Logan watches as you take down the last of the cyclops mutants, your body glowing with the aftereffects of your transformation. You stand amidst the carnage, your chest heaving with exertion, but there’s a fire in your eyes that hasn’t been there before—a fire that burns with a fierce determination to protect the man you care about.

“Damn,” Logan mutters as he pushes himself to his feet, wincing slightly. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

You can’t help but smile, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “What if you already are on my bad side?” you tease, though there’s no real bite to your words.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “Fair enough.”

With the mutants defeated, you and Logan make your way back through the fortress, the oppressive atmosphere beginning to lift with each step you take. As you reach the outer wall, you glance up at the sky, the mist beginning to clear as dawn approaches. You can see the small boat you came in anchored in the cove, waiting to take you both to safety. Logan follows your gaze, then looks back at you, his expression unreadable.

“Ready to get out of here?” you ask, your voice low as you take a step closer to him.

He nods, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “More than ready.”

Without another word, you extend your wings, the powerful muscles flexing as they unfurl to their full span. Logan watches you with admiration and something else, something deeper that he’s not ready to voice just yet. You wrap your arms around his waist, and with a powerful beat of your wings, you lift off the ground, carrying him into the air.

The flight back to the cove is short, but it’s enough time for you to feel the tension in Logan’s body start to ease as the wind rushes past. You land gracefully on the deck of the boat, setting Logan down gently before retracting your wings. He lingers for a moment, his hands still on your shoulders, as if reluctant to let go.

“Thanks for the save… Again” he murmurs.

“Anytime,” you reply, your heart skipping a beat at the closeness between you. You pull away slightly, not wanting to dwell on the feeling too much, and move to untie the boat from the anchor.

Logan takes a seat on the bench, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. You’re aware of his gaze as you work, but you try to focus on the task at hand. The sooner you get back to the school, the sooner you can both recover from this ordeal.

The boat cuts through the water smoothly, and the silence between you is comfortable, the need for words unnecessary. Logan leans back, closing his eyes as he lets the sun warm his face. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the lines of his face, the slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

You’re almost back at the mainland when Logan finally breaks the silence. “You know,” he says, his voice deep and filled with thought, “I’ve been through a lot in my life. Seen a lot, done a lot. But I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

Your hands still on the wheel, and you turn to face him fully, your heart beating a little faster.

“What do you mean?”

He opens his eyes and looks at you, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’re strong, tougher than anyone I’ve ever known. But it’s more than that. You… you don’t give up on people, even when they don’t deserve it. Even when they’re as messed up as me.”

“Logan,” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“Let me finish,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re always there, always fighting, and I… I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that. For everything you’ve done, not just today, but since the day we met.”

You’re at a loss for words, the sincerity in his voice taking you by surprise. Logan isn’t the type to open up easily, to admit to needing anyone. But here he is, doing just that, and it makes your chest tighten with emotion.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you finally manage to say, “I did what anyone else would’ve done.”

He gives you a look, one that says he doesn’t believe that for a second. “No, you didn’t. You did what you do best. You fought for me. And I think… I think it’s time I stop fighting against this.”

“Against what?” you ask, though you have a feeling you already know.

Logan takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he’s about to say. “Against what I feel for you. Against this… connection between us. I’ve been pushing it away, trying to ignore it, but I can’t do that anymore.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his words sink in. You’ve felt it too, the pull between you and Logan, the way your hearts seem to beat in sync when you’re together. But you never thought he felt the same way, never dared to hope that he could see you as more than just a teammate.

“Logan, I…” You struggle to find the right words, the ones that will convey everything you’re feeling.

“I feel it too. I have for a long time. Since the temple. But I was scared. Scared that it would ruin what we have, that it would make things complicated.”

“Things are already complicated,” he says with a wry smile, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

You nod, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and apprehension. The boat slowly comes to a stop upon the reaching the shore, but you don’t make a move to get out. “So… what do we do now?”

Logan reaches out, taking your hand in his, the roughness of his skin a comforting contrast to the softness of the moment. “We see where this goes. And if it gets too complicated, we deal with it together. Like we always do.”

Logan’s eyes search yours, his gaze tender and filled with unspoken promise. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It’s a gentle touch, a careful exploration of the emotions that have been building between you.

You respond with equal tenderness, your hand still in his as the kiss deepens. The kiss is more than just a physical act; it’s a melding of hearts, a silent declaration of the feelings you’ve both been holding back.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, a shared smile lighting up your faces, and for the first time in a long time, the future seems less daunting.

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

A/N: Thanks for reading! I've been lurking for so long and have finally decided to start writing again. I think I gotta write smut or something after this - it was sooo dramatic and for what LOL.

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sp4ceboo · 6 months

Text

Within the Storms of Giedi Prime: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: the long awaited part two of upon the sands of the arena is hereeee

tw: 18+, smut (more than last time hehehe), p in v, swearing, Feels™, death, assassination, use of the Voice (not on feyd), less violence but still violence, i lack faith in my sequel writing abilities, blowjobs, SUB FEYDDDD, also DOM FEYDDD, sex Outside, lightning and thunder (it says storms in the title what do you expect)

wc: 4.2k

part 1

Giedi Prime is a miserable planet.

It’s evident in the choking, black smog from the factories in the dense air fused with the anguished cries of overworked slaves and the distant rumble of the still active volcanos. You’re near the Harkonnen’s palace grounds - you’re heading towards them, actually, and the promise of a… pleasant night; to your left, you can just about glimpse the looming silhouette of the great arena, squatting like a hulking beast on the horizon, waiting to swallow any poor soul that gets too close to its gaping maw.

Tonight, roiling storm clouds reign the sky, sending sheets of furious rain pounding down upon anyone who dares to be out at this hour - including you. Harsh bolts of lightning spear down, hurtling towards the ground like incensed, condensed moonlight and casting freakish shadows.

Moonlight: the colour of Feyd’s skin. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be off this sorry planet - alas, you must stay a little longer, your body already a little warm at the memory of his skilled fingers and scorching gaze. You haven’t been back since the encounter with the na-Baron in the arena months ago, and you can’t help but feel the sting of doubt in your chest, wondering if he’ll still want a second time, or if you’ll sneak into his room only to find yourself replaced by a concubine.

Not that you occupy significance to him anyway, you remind yourself. Feyd-Rautha could not replace you, because there would be nothing to replace, just ashes of a once bright fire.

Irked by the weakness of your own mind, you pull the hood of your cloak lower over your face, tightening it across your shoulders. The hem is sullied by browning blood: you disposed of your quarry just this morning, and delivered the decapitated head during the early afternoon.

Conveniently, the Bene Gesserit have left you alone for now, most likely tangled in the politics regarding the Kwisatz Haderach while trying to predict the next movement of Jessica Atreides - word is that she has burrowed her way deeper into the desert, surrounding herself and her son with the more fanatic of the Fremen as she bides her time, ready for her next strike.

It means that you’ve been granted enough time to establish yourself as a bounty hunter. For a highly trained Bene Gesserit, the work is easy, and earns you coin a plenty while keeping you on the move and as in shape as assassinating sloppy idiots attempting to run from debt and petty disagreements can.

Slipping through the palace’s perimeter proves easy enough. You use the Voice on a few guards, preferring it to cutting their throats: instructing them to keep quiet and forget you passed by causes much less of a commotion. The scaling of the ramparts that make up the circumference of the inner palace is the most challenging, due to the stone being slick with moss and rain - your fingers dig into the cracks between the weathered blocks of stone, the wind snapping and tugging at your cloak, fiercer now that you’re higher up.

There’s a narrow battlement ringing one side of Feyd’s room. You land on it silently, padding over to the window sill; curtains made of heavy black fabric layered on a dark, wispy privacy layer shroud most of your view of him. His pale skin is almost luminescent under the jagged flashes of lightning bathing his quarters, the blanket having slipped half off him during the night. He lies with his bare back facing you, although it’s hardly a vulnerability - you doubt anyone would be able to creep up on him easily enough to bury a knife into his exposed back without him tearing their throat out first.

Apart from you - hopefully.

Carefully, you ease the window open. A frigid gust of air rushes in as you climb through, and you witness the exact moment that Feyd awakens and becomes aware of your presence; imperceptibly, the muscles in his back ripple before he settles again - you posticipate the feel of them under your palms, hard, lean, perfect for sinking your nails into.

A thrill rushes through you at the sight of him, a sort of wondrous feeling, keen as a knife and just as cutting. You want him all over you, you want him to consume you until all you can remember is him and his smouldering eyes and sensuous touch.

Shrugging off your cloak, you let it pool to the floor around your feet before toeing off your shoes too; breath caught in your throat, you steal over to his bedside, your hand ghosting over the solid curve of his shoulder blade before you grip his shoulder, turning him so his back is flat against the mattress and straddling him in one fluid motion.

The cold kiss of metal meets your neck.

You almost moan at the look on his face. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, his eyes wild, frenzied almost, glittering with the same danger as before. Running your hands up his hard, sculpted chest, you smirk down at him, watching as ever so slowly, his gelid gaze defrosts with recognition, the ice giving way to those all encompassing flames, flames that you surrender to unequivocally.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ you murmur, fingers circling his wrist.

Feyd blinks, watching you as if he’s going to eat you as always. Slowly, the hand not wielding the knife roams waywardly down your spine, grabs a harsh fistful of your ass and lingers before gliding upwards and settling on your waist. He huffs, an abrupt, amused sound, but you don’t miss the way he greedily drinks up your figure with his eyes.

‘I thought I scared you away, little witch. Presumably, it was not too much for you?’

‘For me?’ You muse. ‘We’ll see.’

Knocking the blade from his hand, you ignore the screeching noise it makes as it skitters across the stone floor, instead enjoying the subtle inhale, loaded with expectancy, that Feyd takes as you lean in close to him. You hover above him for a prolonged moment, arms boxing him in, before he lurches upwards, connecting your lips with his.

A growl sounds at the back of his throat when he tastes you, licking into your mouth as his fingers press at the small of your back, bringing your lower body to meet his. Rolling his hips against yours, he tangles his fingers in your hair; you feel giddy with the feel of him against you, solid and warm and wanting, so real beneath you, so fucking insatiable.

You can’t get enough of him.

Slowly, you pull away, ablaze with the ravening craving in his eyes. The muscles in his well shaped chest flex as he tips his face up, following your lips, and you smile disarmingly at him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down.

Taking his chin in your palm, you tilt his head so you can look him in the eyes before swiping your thumb over his lower lip, savouring the way he’s putty in your hands: a man destined to be the Baron of one of the most influential, powerful Houses in the Imperium, a lethal, strikingly skilled warrior, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, humbled by your touch.

‘Let me taste you,’ you breathe - it’s almost a command.

‘Please,’ he chokes out, imploring you with his eyes.

Laughing, you press a hand to his sternum and push. He sinks back into the mattress, compliant, and you trail your lips down his neck and sternum, leaving hickeys in your wake. You're seized by the need to make him shake and beg and cry; you want to devour him.

Dragging your nails cruelly down his thighs, branding him with livid red scratches, you tilt your head to the side, a smile playing upon your lips as you listen to the groan that leaves him, the pricks of pain setting him alight with longing. There’s a devout look in his eyes - a fervent, zealous sort of lust that stirs within you with the impulse to make him forget his own name.

Curling your fingers around his hard length and giving him a few pumps, you watch him under your lashes, something akin to a power rush spinning your head around and around. Feyd is wonderfully sensitive, and a sneer pulls at your lips when his fingers scramble for purchase, fisting in his silky sheets as you press a chaste, loitering kiss to his cock head - a pearl of jet precum sits at the apex of it, dark against its rosy, delicate flush.

Dipping your hand into your pants, you collect your slick on your fingers and use it to jerk him - when you glance up, his pupils are blown wide; lips parted, he stares at you, transfixed.

Eyes locked on his, you take him in your mouth: his thighs tighten, every muscle taut as you run your tongue along the veins wrapped around the underside of his cock. His head tips back, displaying the strong lines of his neck as you hollow your cheeks, rubbing your thighs together to ease the increasing ache between them. Jaw slack, you gag when he hits the back of your throat, and he growls at the sight of your hungry eyes growing watery.

You toy with him, teasing him with your tongue and grazing your teeth lightly over his length until he’s gasping your name; the way the syllables leave his tongue is almost pleading, his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, his thighs shuddering, wracked with tremors.

It’s evident that he’s close, the voracity in his eyes so hot that it melts your bones, sending heat pooling in your core - you’re going to let him wreck your cunt after this; ruin you for any other man. Trembling, his pale fingers hover near your head, splaying over the expanse of your shoulder, his eyes fucking begging for permission, so you pull off him, laughing as his hips jolt forward at the loss, his cock twitching when your fingertips graze his balls.

‘Go on, Feyd,’ you coax. ‘Do as you wish.’

A tender, honeyed noise rips from low in his chest, almost a whimper, a sound you know no one has extracted from him before. It’s the only warning before he fists his hand in your hair, hips bucking as he fucks into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as you gag around him, the debased moan that escapes you sending vibrations down his cock.

You almost black out when he comes down your throat. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of air reaching your lungs or the sweet pain of Feyd’s hand yanking at your hair, but you’re sure that you’ve never taken so much pleasure in someone else’s release. Slowly, you sit up, moving to lie beside Feyd, and he smiles dumbly at you, maybe a little fucked out as he leans in to kiss you, sighing as he tastes his own come on your tongue.

‘I could spend hours exploring you, my little witch,’ he says, pressing his lips to your jaw.

Feyd flips you over with only an echo of ferocity from your previous fight, disrobing you and gripping your thighs, spreading them. Your hands find his shoulders, his back, your fingers resting in the dips of muscle there, trailing down the length of his spine as his own find your slick, yearning cunt.

Outside, the storm blows harder, rain pounding down upon the planet’s surface in sheets, lightning lancing through the thick billows of clouds; it is during one of these strikes that you glimpse that Feyd’s eyes are not as dark as they seem, but the colour of glaciers and blue fire. Within them, just beneath the keenness of his electric gaze, lurks something else - something that makes you hesitate. He senses it immediately, fingers pausing their movement, so you fit your lips to his.

You kiss him to avoid the emotions roiling in his stormy eyes.

He responds immediately, and you easily dismiss the thoughts clouding your mind; he barely knows you, there’s no room for the feelings you just saw in his gaze. You seek his body, not his soul, and it is the same both ways.

‘Fuck me,’ you mumble against his lips.

All coherent sentences leave your mind when he flips you over again, this time with your stomach pressed to his bedsheets as he kneels on the mattress behind you.

‘Ass up, my little witch,’ he commands.

Something within you goes molten at the sound of his voice. You can feel his gaze straying all over your skin, greedy, so you tuck your knees beneath you and arch your back, biting down on your lower lip as his palm presses against your lower vertebrae. He chuckles; it warms your bones.

‘You’re so filthy, little witch, displaying yourself for me.’

Bolts of ecstasy shoot through you as Feyd slides his cock head through your folds, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly that you’ll be left with bruises. Your breath is punched from your lungs when he sinks himself inside you, balls deep, white hot pleasure rocketing down your spine - it tears a wretched cry from you, more so when he starts a brutal, near sadistic pace, the angle destroying you with vicious bliss.

The drag of his searing, velvet cock on your walls makes your toes curl. You think your body might shatter into a million pieces, the way he plucks the euphoria from it so agonisingly, so beautifully. One of his hands finds its way between your thighs, his thumb rolling endlessly over your clit; you find yourself teetering on the edge, suspended there a moment before you fall.

The way your cunt convulses around his cock as you come doesn’t stop Feyd. Unforgiving, he ploughs into you, his fingers still working on your clit, not breaking his rhythm even as you writhe beneath him, trying to jerk your hips away from his to no avail. It’s too much, the pleasure melting delectably into pain and still he can’t stop, won’t stop, his low snarl a warning in your ear as he pins you to the mattress with a hand between your shoulder blades, leaving you helpless to do nothing but take him.

Tears well up in your eyes, soaking into the sheets beneath you as he rails into you, his fingers speeding up on your clit until you’re begging him, tremors shooting through you from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His grip on your hips is unrelenting, and you sob as his pace increases, the savage friction sending you over again.

For the second time, you come hard around him, pussy clenching and fluttering, ragged cries wracking your body. This time, you bring Feyd with you, the sound he makes sharp and almost pained. He pulls out, and you mewl at the sharp tug of friction, panting as he comes on your back and ass, claiming you with his dark seed.

Breathless, he sits back on his heels as you straighten your legs until you lie full stretch, revelling in the post orgasmic rapture. Dimly, you hear his footsteps on the stone floor, but you pay them no mind, instead letting your eyelids droop as you rest your chin in the crook of your elbow.

Gentle hands encircle your ankles, carefully opening your legs. A second later, you feel a warm cloth at the apex of your thighs, and you whine, flinching away from the overstimulation. You hear Feyd’s chuckle, and the comforting sweep of his thumb against your skin as he cleans you up, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses on your back as he does; barely a moment after, the mattress dips, and strong arms pull you into a warm chest.

‘How are you, my little witch?’

You hum in response, not wanting to use words. Something niggles at your brain, even through the haze of pleasure. It’s got to do with the na-Baron’s gentleness after he fucks you; it unsettles you, the sweetness of him, and now these words, as if you’re a lover, and not… whatever this is.

One of his wide palms runs up and down your ribs, and you shove those thoughts to the side, instead enjoying his touch, the way your body fits into his, his chest pressed against your front as he traces patterns on your skin with his deft fingers; his lips brushing the nape of your neck, leaving soft kisses there. You find yourself curling away from him a little - his hands on you make something deep in your chest stir to life, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s -

A blinding flash of lightning, followed by the deep, throaty growl of thunder illuminates the room. You’re facing the door: in the crack between its solid masonry and the floor, you glimpse a shadow.

Hastily, you turn, one hand meeting Feyd’s chest, fingers falling into the dip his collarbone makes as you search his eyes, urgent. He stares back at you, not quite guarded, but not quite open any more, and you’re filled with the urge to protect.

‘Give me your knife,’ you hiss.

He sits up halfway. ‘What’s - ’

You push him back down, glaring at his resistance. You can sense the change in the air, hear the subtle scrape of someone’s boot across the stone floor and the swish of clothing behind the door - or maybe it’s just the building storm outside, the escalating charge in the sky as another bolt of lightning is generated.

‘Feyd. Give me your knife.’

Eyes quizzical, he produces it from somewhere behind him, handing it to you hilt first. It’s just in time, because the door swings open, a masked figure silhouetted there. You whirl around, covering Feyd’s body with your own.

They’re holding a knife.

It doesn’t take you a moment longer to send your knife hurtling towards them. The blade seethes through the air before embedding itself with a thunk into the assassin’s shoulder, and as they drop to the floor, you’re up in another second, poised in case there’s another. A flash of movement catches your eye - the dropped knife, retrieved and held in blood soaked fingers.

‘Stand down,’ you snap.

The Voice echoes through the room, and you pluck the knife out of the now frozen assassin’s grasp and slit his throat. Turning, you see the glimmer of amusement and awe in Feyd’s eyes; assassination attempts probably occur often, an estranged Bene Gesserit using the Voice in his room less so.

‘So many people seem eager to sneak into my bed chamber tonight,’ he remarks. ‘Although I must admit I preferred the first one.’

You laugh, collecting your clothes off the floor. ‘I’m glad.’

As you pull on your trousers, followed closely by your shirt, Feyd gets up, and you’re struck by the slow manner in which he approaches you, so much like the way he prowled towards you in the arena, but this time his eyes concerningly soft, his deadly, killing machine of a body marked with hickeys and love bites.

‘Why do you always rush to leave so fast, my little witch?’

‘I - I have places to be,’ you stammer.

He tilts his head. ‘At this hour of the night?’

‘...Yes.’

Feyd takes one step closer, close enough to kiss. ‘What are you afraid of?’

You back towards the window. ‘I fear nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he warns. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

Shaking your head, panic rising in your throat, you turn, the glass chilly on your fingers as you open the window. Feyd catches your other hand, but you whirl around and lash out, a blow to the face followed by a blow to the legs, and he staggers backwards, giving you enough time to slip out of the window and onto the battlements.

Outside, the storm has whipped up, the howling wind tearing at your hood and blowing it off, the rain immediately pouring down to soak your hair, sting your eyes, wet your face. You need to run, you need to get away from him, but the weak part of you - the part that you fear - slows your strides, tugging at you as if it’s tied to Feyd somehow.

He catches up to you easily enough.

Of course he does, he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, and he is inexplicably bound to your soul in a way you cannot describe, in a way that terrifies you, shakes you to your very core. He catches your with a hand around your upper arm and presses you to his chest, your treacherous body reacting to him the way it always has as he stares down at you with those burning, icy eyes, droplets of rain running in rivulets down the moonlight planes of his chest.

Unease tears through you. You see it in his eyes, that he feels it too, and you dread the way it does not disquiet him. Your soul feels like it’s slowly rending in two - you need to get away from him, from the unguarded way he regards you, dedication clear in his unwavering gaze, but all the same, you need to remain with his arms trapping you to him, in the bewildering magnetism of his psyche.

‘Tell me what you fear, my little witch.’

You answer through clenched teeth. ‘I am not yours.’

‘You evade my question.’

You stare at Feyd, confounded. This man before you is the same man that you duelled in the arena, yet he is different; there is a certainty in his eyes, an acceptance that you yourself flee from. You’re drawn to him, even as the instincts that have kept your hollow heart intact all these years squall for you to break loose - and yet you fear that too, the evasion, because you know that if you run now, a part of you will be lost, snapped under the tension.

‘What do you - ’

You cut Feyd off. ‘Do you know what I fear, Harkonnen? I fear the look in your eyes, because it’s not just desire any more. You do not seek me in order that I inflict pain and pleasure alike upon you, you seek something else. I fear the look in your eyes because it is the same feeling that rises traitorously in my chest when I look at you, and it terrifies me.’

He’s silent.

You grab his shoulder. ‘Tell me you feel nothing, Feyd. Tell me you crave me for the thrill of adrenaline and the feel of my body - tell me and do not lie.’

His eyes bore into yours. ‘I cannot.’

‘Exactly.’

You wrest yourself from his grasp, turning and striding down the battlements. A strange feeling overtakes you, a prickle behind your eyes and a lump in your throat, an aching tug at your heart which you stalwartly ignore. It is over - you’re done. He made it harder than it ever had to be, but you’re going now.

He grabs your hand. ‘You cannot either, my little witch.’

Struggling, you snarl at him, clawing at your chest, but he pins you to the wall, his eyes aflame, searing, calling to something in you that rises up to meet him. This time, it is too strong; you cannot push it down, a part of you not even wanting to. You can feel Feyd all over you, your senses overwhelmed by him, by the way he presses his forehead to yours, forcing you to meet his gaze.

‘You do not have to fear it,’ he whispers. ‘Just let go. You’re holding on too tight.’

He dips his head, claiming your lips. You give in, yield to it, let it wash over you and carry you away on its blissful waves, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he touches you, tenderly, as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon; this is not Feyd, but this is him, irrefutably so.

You think this might be love.

It is a wild, white hot blade in your heart that twists, beauteous, enthralling. You believed that it would weaken you, shackle you, but you blaze with the glorious flare of it, the kiss of Feyd’s hips against yours stoking it further. Truly, it is magnificent.

In the only way you know how, you show him. It’s cataclysmic, the way you’re pulled to him like a comet caught in a planet’s gravity, streaking towards him, fated to collide, your hands roving over him, his over you, the taste of rain blooming on your tongue as you bite down on his shoulder, muffling a moan as he ekes sweet, tender pleasure from you. Your head tips back against the stone, eyes raised to the weeping sky, your lips parted as he fills you with his cock.

Feyd looks at you as if you are a goddess. He worships you, cradles you in his arms, anchoring you, grounding you. You do not know where he ends and you begin, nor do you want to know; you wish for your souls to meld, you wish for the two of you to be alone in the universe, unbothered by time or fate or anything.

‘You are mine, little witch,’ he intones against your rain soaked skin. ‘I am yours.’

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