#it shines and glimmers under the sun

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[dahlibae]

END OF TIME.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(dark!wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

warning(s) — oneshot: smut, mommy kink, spanking, forced orgasm, cunnilingus, strap on sex, dubious content, it’s implied that wanda kidnapped reader but it could just be an abusive relationship. (18+)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The world you lived in was nothing more than a sick, twisted game—an endless cycle of pain and loneliness. No parents to guide you, no friends to lean on, no lovers to heal the gaping void in your chest. You were utterly alone, a pawn in a cruel universe that seemed to relish your suffering.

Until you met her.

Wanda.

She was a glimmer of light in your shadowed world, the kind of woman you’d never dared to believe could exist. Wanda was everything—an angel amidst the darkness, a storm of warmth and strength. She saw you when no one else did, pulled you from the depths when you’d nearly drowned. She cared for you with such a tenderness that was foreign, almost unreal, teaching you lessons that reshaped the jagged edges of your soul. She reminded you what it meant to feel human. Her laugh could soften even the sharpest corners of your broken heart, and her touch… god her touch was like that of a soothing balm, a cure for wounds you thought would never heal.

And she loved you.

Genuinely, fiercely, as though you were worthy of it. For the first time in your life, you believed in something greater than the endless cruelty of the world.

She made you feel alive.

She made you feel whole.

But perfection often comes with a price.

And in a world this twisted, nothing good ever lasts forever.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The clock above the kitchen door never stopped ticking. Even as the sun set and the moon rose, even as the light faded into dark, even as the warm air blistered cold.

It never stopped.

Perched on the sofa, you stared at the offending piece of metal, its steady ticking filling the silence like a relentless reminder of time slipping away. Each second felt heavier than the last, your gaze locked on its rhythmic movement until, finally, another sound broke through. The front door creaked open and shut with a familiar thud.

In walked Wanda. Her hair, now a dark shade of walnut, framed her face as she bustled into the room with an energy that seemed almost misplaced. She wore a beaming smile, the kind that used to light up your world—once.

She quickly moved over to you, intending to place a kiss upon your head, but she froze mid-step, her attention stolen by the sight of the room. The space gleamed under the soft light, every surface shining with a meticulousness that could only come from hours of dedicated effort. You had spent the entire day cleaning until not a speck of dust remained, transforming the already tidy space into something worthy of a magazine cover. Not that it had ever been messy—Wanda would sooner face the end of the world than tolerate clutter in her home.

In the six months you had been locked away here, you had never seen it untidy.

Still, you had somehow managed to elevate it, making even her discerning eye take notice. The scent of her signature lavender lingered faintly in the air, a testament to the freshly wiped counters and perfectly polished furniture. Wanda’s lips curved into a soft smile as she turned her gaze back to you, a glimmer of gratitude and warmth dancing in her eyes.

"You’ve outdone yourself.” She murmured, her voice filled with genuine admiration. "I didn’t think it was possible for this place to look even better." She moved closer, leaning down at last to press a tender kiss to your forehead, her touch lingering as she whispered, "thank you, baby."

You only answered with a quiet hum and a small smile of your own.

That smile returned to her face once more, slow and sharp, like the curve of a blade. You saw the devious plans ignite in her eyes, glinting with a wicked satisfaction that made your stomach churn. Everything was a game to her—a cruel, mind-bending game with rules only she knew, rules she could rewrite at will. Every move you made, every word you uttered, was just another piece she could twist to fit her narrative.

All you’d done was clean the house. A half-hearted, mediocre effort at best, born more from a desire to fill the empty hours than any real care for the place. It wasn’t much—a swipe of the rag here, a broom lazily dragged there. But somehow, she’d seized on it, weaving it into one of her elaborate fantasies. To her, this simple act was proof. Proof that you were finally breaking, that you were starting to accept your fate, that the fight had drained out of you and you were settling into this twisted new reality.

You wanted to scream at her, to shatter that smug certainty etched into her face.

But you knew better.

Here, in this place, every outburst was just more ammunition for her games. Instead, you clenched your fingers together and swallowed the lump rising in your throat, forcing yourself to meet her gaze without flinching. Because deep down, you knew the truth: she thrived on subduing your rebellion as much as your compliance. Whether you resisted or surrendered, you were still playing her game.

And the thought of that terrified you more than anything else.

The dread ate away at your chest.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You were on all fours: sweaty, panting, naked—of course— as your legs trembled to hold your weight up. Your arms had given up along time ago. Her hips snapped into the flesh of your ass, as her strap drove deep into your pussy. Wanda liked to hurt you. Liked to spank your ass red as she fucked you dumb. Your ass twitched with the anticipation of the first slap. And as Wanda’s hand connected over and over again, you became more and more tense, attempting to lessen the impact of the slaps.

Let it be known, the humiliation was the point; it always is with her. And worse than that, you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve came. All of them forced. All of them just as good as the last. She was relentless, and yet, she called it a reward— “for being such a good girl for Mommy while she was at work.”

You chose to ignore the pulse in your clit as she called herself Mommy.

Wanda’s increased moans as well as her rough pace told you she was close to finishing. You’d just hope this time she’d be done for real. There was only so much you could take before tears began to fall. However, her hips faltered before coming to a complete stop. Her pants filled the air before she pulled out of you, liquids soaking the bed below as she discarded the strap.

“Come here, baby." She grabbed, and you rolled to lay flat on your back.

Oh.

Her strong thighs crawled to wrap around your head as she threaded fingers through your curls. “I want to see how useful that little pink tongue of yours is, hm?”

Wanda had always tasted good. No matter how sadistic and cruel she could be, you could never not enjoy eating her out. The sounds she’d make, the way her hips roll into you; the tension increasing as she holding herself back from fucking your face, the gentle fingers scraping against your scalp.

She looked as ethereal as she tasted.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, you’re so good for me. So good for Mommy.” She rushed out, unable to contain the little whines clawing from her throat. Her hips picked up the pace, and you held out your tongue out for her to ride, pink flesh solid against her sensitivity, and she rocked against your face until she spilled all over your lips.

Immediately she fell off you, and drew you into her arms.

She’d always needed to hold you after sex.

Such a different affection than as to how she was treating you before.

“You know I love you right?” She whispered, and that same dread from earlier would crawl right back in, the heavy weight settled on your chest.

You knew she didn’t care if you believed her or not.

She just wanted you to say it back.

You turned further into her embrace, face nuzzled into her breasts, as your legs tangled with hers.

“I love you too Mommy.”

[nikovraskol]

crack baby ; four

wc ; 2114 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ?

tw ; brief mention of death, cursing, neglect, panic attacks

prologue, one, two, three, four, tbc..

The rain outside casted a shadow of gloom over the morose city, the rhythmic pat-pat-pat on the windows creating an uncomfortable backdrop to your inner thoughts. Your head was resting in your hands, fingers scrunching at the edge of your scalp, tangling your hair with such force it felt like your mind was being split in two.

The pain was nothing compared to the pounding of your heart, ricocheting so loud that you felt it in your shoulders, in your fingertips – in each cell of your body.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? Those three words echoed in your mind like a beat rebounding off a drum, what is going on? This is–..

When you miraculously turned back in time, you naively believed it would be easy – you’d silently leave without fuss, everything would progress as it should and you’d live life away from the looming Manor they called home. 

So why, why does it feel like every time you try to leave, someone’s there holding their hand on your neck. Why? Why can’t you just leave? It was so easy before, you could leave the Manor, disappear for days on end and nobody would notice, now it feels like someone is always hovering around.

Every time you leave your room, every time you try – they’re there! Why? What caused this sudden shift? You didn’t do anything drastic. So why? What changed? You’d spent years of your pathetic life scrambling for any sort of attention. For them. What secret trick have you pulled to put yourself in their spotlight? And why now?!

“Fuck.” You grumble, crumpling into yourself pitifully. There is absolutely no light at the end of this stupid tunnel. One of those stupid circus clowns is always there to stand before the small glimmers of hopes that shine through, much like the sun through a window. They curtain the light, under the pretense of protecting you from the sun’s burns, but how can you live without the sun’s warmth?

The rain outside grew more intense as you spiral, a testimony to the raging shit-show inside you. There is– one option. An option you loathe to think about. Bothering her would be.. It’s not something you’d like. You’d promised yourself – all that time ago, that you would never look her in the eyes, that you’d never speak a word to her. For her sake, not your own.

It’d be selfish, you really, really shouldn’t. But still, as a precaution, you open up your night stand, reaching to the very, very bottom to pick out a letter. A letter with an address and a phone number. Just in case.

The rain doesn’t seem to be stopping, which is a shame – you’ve always hated the rain.

“What is wrong with you?” A voice calls out, and you just narrowly avoid screaming. You tilt your head with much effort, your eyes zeroing in on Damian. Of course, it’s like a fucking roster. You’re not even safe in your own room.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You respond curtly, resting your head in your hands once more. You can’t stand looking at him. You can’t stand him. You can’t stand his stupid expression, always so prideful. Always so above you. You hate him.

“Why are you acting like this? You’re a Wayne, stop being so… pathetic.” You let out a sharp laugh at his words. Again, a few years ago, those words would’ve filled you with immense joy – enough to power yourself through the loneliness that plagued your whole being. But you’re not that pathetic waste of space, ghosting through the Manor. You’re just [Name],

“I don’t know what you mean.” You repeat, not picking up your head as you sigh. The rain is heavy, you really hate rain. “I’ve always been pathetic, right?”

You can’t see Damian, but you feel the air in the room shift. It’s strange, everything feels surreal. You almost have half a nerve to–

“Why are you trying to leave?”

His voice sounds weird, he sounds concerned. That’s impossible, you’re speaking to Damian. The boy who’s refused to acknowledge you as his sibling, the one who made it very clear what he thought of you. You raise your head once more to meet his eyes. 

He looks young. Younger than you’ve ever seen him look. 

“Why does it matter to you, this is what you’ve always wanted right?” Your hands begin to tremble, why are you trembling? You’re not scared. You’re– You’re angry. The fearful knot in your stomach frays, anger burning the rope until it tightens around your organs like a springtrap. “You’ve made it very clear what you think of me, don’t try to take the high road now.” “[Name]--”

“I’ve spent my whole life, chasing like a fucking stray for something – anything. Now you wanna act concerned? I’m fucking sick of this. I’m sick of you– I’m sick of everything!” Words were spilling out before you could catch them, the raindrops on the window fueling your anger. The patting making your head fucking pound, you wanted to rip your filthy mind out – everything was loud, too loud.

“Calm down, you’re acting–” 

“Out of everyone in this house, I hate you the most.”

“Huh?” Damian’s voice was soft, quiet – barely audible over the relentless pounding of the rain.

“However much you might hate me, I hate you a hundred, no, a thousand times more.” 

You pushed past him, your anger exploding inside your very core. Your blood was rushing through your veins, squeezing until it threatened to blow. If you had half the mind to look back, you’d see the expression on his face.

The walls in the Manor had never felt so looming, so large. It felt like each painting was looking at you, mocking you. The eyes of the soulless characters locked on your form as you marched down the halls.

You had no destination, no goal, but you needed to get out. Each wall was closing in, the roof threatening to collapse – to swallow you whole, to crush you under it’s unforgiving weight. Would that be better? Would you be happier under the sweet mercy of death?

Well, you’re not willing to find out. You’re not that gone, yet.

You could barely register anything as you stormed out the Manor, you heard nothing but the ringing in your ears as you walked. 

The moment the cold rain hit your skin, you ran. Your legs moving before your brain could process it. The downpour soaked you. Your hair and clothes sticking to your body. You weren’t wearing a coat, you had some shitty shoes that you had on from earlier, your whole body felt like it was aflame.

And then you stopped. Your frustration wore off leaving only the ache in your body behind. Your lungs were being squeezed against your ribs, air clawing against the sensitive flesh leaving you breathless. Your legs were shaking, your bones too weak to hold you as you slump against a tree.

Your body hit the cold, wet ground below you. Your head falls on your knees as you cradle yourself. Curse Bruce for living in some fancy ass Manor, away from the rest of Gotham like some fancy jackass. Curse him for being a billionaire. From behind the tree you had slumped yourself on, you could hear some lingering paparazzi – eager for some sort of scoop.

It’d be funny if you jumped out and gave them a real scoop. But you’re too caught up in your own shit for any scandals.

“I really hate the rain.” You mumble, a warm raindrop falling from your eyes. Strange, isn’t rain supposed to be wet? Whatever. 

You felt pathetic. So, truly pathetic. You’d ran away like some brat having a tantrum. Whatever, it’s not like anyone would notice. Nobody ever noticed, that was how life was, how it’d always be. You were destined to be sidelined forever, and you’d finally grown fine with that. So why? 

Your ass was muddy, you were wet, cold, sad – this scenario felt oddly reminiscent, reminiscent of a time before all the neglect, before loneliness was your only companion.

“Your name is [Name]?” A deep voice asked, his tone kind, patient as he looked at you.

Rain stuck to your small form as you looked up at him, your supposed father. The man you’d seen on TV everyday, he was looking at you – his eyes full of kindness that felt unfamiliar. But–

“Where is my mom?” Your voice was hoarse, quiet – afraid. The blooming pain in your head seemed to dull under the rain’s touch, blood seeping down your forehead, dripping down your nose – mingling with the heavy precipitation. The lights from the blaring sirens were shadowed by the man before you, the man who was looking down at you with something akin to pity. 

The teddy bear in your hands was unsalvageable. Between the missing eye, limbs, and now the rain that had drenched it. It was a hard thrust away from falling apart, but it rested in your palms nonetheless. Your fingers curling into the flat, synthetic fur as though it were your only tether to reality.

He slowly kneeled down before you, reaching eye-to-eye before extending his hand. “My name is Bruce, I’ll take care of you and your mother, I promise.” He smiled, he looked so much more human now, he was no longer an untouchable figure, no longer would you have to touch the warm screen of your TV, quietly pleading for him to save you. He was looking at you now, and he’d never look away.

You took his hand.

“Fuck this.” You huff, standing up with way too much effort, your joints still aching because of your little escapade. You weren’t going to sit around and wait for him to hold your hand again, you weren’t going to have him sign anything or give you anything – why should you rely on him? He’s given you nothing. You owe him nothing.

Your wet hand instinctively goes to your pocket, taking out the card with the address. The heavy downpour immediately enveloped the laminated card. Your throat felt heavy immediately as you reread the words on it, soaking in each letter. Swallowing back your nausea, you begin running again – this time, with a purpose.

It was rare for Bruce to lose his composure, but as he stared into your empty room – he felt his control fraying. 

“You’re sure they’re not hiding somewhere else?” He managed to keep his voice calm, despite the pounding of his heart. His eyes scanned your room. So small, he really needs to upgrade it.

“No, Master Bruce, they.. can’t be found anywhere else.” Alfred said, his expression uncharacteristically tense as he stared at the black curls at the back of Bruce’s head. 

Bruce was beginning to feel a sense of dread come upon him.

When Damian came into his study, looking strangely panicked – that was strike one, the moment your name left the young boy’s mouth, Bruce was up and practically sprinting to your room. Strike two.

And strike three was the lack of you in your space. The lack of you in the Manor. He had everyone look around, check every nook and cranny, but you were nowhere to be found. He had told you not to go out without telling him. 

But it’s fine, he is the world’s greatest detective. No need to panic.

Taking a tentative step forward, Bruce took a moment to absorb your space, your personality. The posters on the walls, the trinkets littering your shelves, the small imperfections that discerned you.

And then his eyes fell upon it, your teddy bear. “I thought they threw this out.” Bruce mumbled, his eyes flashing to that rainy day when he had met your cold eyes, eyes too haunted to belong to a child. How could he let that child leave when he had promised to take care of you? You and your mother.

Alarm bells rang in his mind, distantly, he could hear Tim and Cass theorise your where-a-bouts. But–

“Alfred, do you remember where we sent her?” Bruce asked slowly, picking up the teddy bear gently – taking in the ruined toy, a testament to the child you were. To the child you are, his thumb running over the messy stitch marks, no doubt done by you. You had the money of Bruce Wayne at your disposal yet you insisted on keeping this trash? The reminder of your impoverished days? He couldn’t understand it, but then again, he’d never be able to understand you.

Not unless he had an actual conversation, as father and child.

“..Yes, I shall send you the details.” Alfred asked after a pause, his eyes strangely distant as he looked at the window, at the rain droplets racing down. “Please, Master Bruce, be swift.”

sorry for neglecting yall i was tryna make the book immersive ;3

dookie chapter because i am simultaniously studying for my health and social exam

tags; (asked to be added thru dms)

@estreiiuh @beyondblissxoxo @jjsmeowthie @vanessa-boo @delias-stuff @d3nnji @wizzerreblogs @lilyalone @strawbrysapphic @regulus-things @iimichie @meepmoopbadabeepboop @buckturd @eloriis @xoxossam @verypersonaldazzel @froggy-voidd @shycreatorreview @wassupbroski55555 @eyeless-kun @anakilusmos @devotedlyshamelessdetective @peehall @bigeyedbaby @chaeugwi

@estreiiuh @beyondblissxoxo @jjsmeowthie @vanessa-boo @delias-stuff @d3nnji @wizzerreblogs @lilyalone @strawbrysapphic @regulus-things @iimichie @buckturd @eloriis @wassupbroski55555 @eyeless-kun @anakilusmos @peehall @bigeyedbaby @chaeugwi

ill get around to adding everyone to the taglist .

[vxnuslogy]

╭──────     deliverance's right hand    ✦ ⸝⸝

            ✦   ⭑𓂃   honkai: star rail      ┆     phainon    .ᐟ                ──╯

𐔌  warnings. ooc-phainon ( written before pre-release ), very much word vomit        ♟      notes. phainon yearning so bad i made a fic when he first appeared during the last last livestream. 

           ━━━ art credits. hoyoverse        ♟         tags.  @starcharmed @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @powchakko @pneumosia ; if you'd like to be tagged please fill out the forms in my pinned post !!

                                 ౨ৎ the nameless king, phainon — historians can only wonder what your relationship was with amphoreus' king.

a nameless new king who ascended to the throne andbrought new heroes with him is sure to be written down in history. with a silver blade and its golden hilt shining under the sunlit battlefields, soldiers and enemies alike revel in his glory. even as the sky turned red and the black tides beckoned, deliverance was always there to keep them at bay. 

his mission was simple and sound, freeing this world of the darkness that consumed his home. one would say he was a foolish boy for daring to draw a sword against a god when he was only but a child, but his right hand man would argue it was his destiny to protect. with the attack so sudden and their heroes falling, people could not help but feel their hope flicker out and die. and you? you stayed close by the future king’s side, shaking hands clutching at his bloodstained shawl as he fought with a dull blade meant for training. but despite all the fear and red stained hopelessness, you still chose to remain by his side, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

even at his coronation, he dared to refuse the crown if you were not by his side. what a rude child he was to ask the king for a nobody like you to help him get dressed, but he made no complaint. this child, with white hair that glistened like snow in winter and eyes like the oceans reflecting a sunrise view, phainon was this world’s new king—their new hero. and you would be his trusted right hand.

the people cheered when he took the palace’s balcony. stretches upon stretches of miles filled with his now citizens as they cheered and chanted his name like a prayer. “all hail the new king!” “in the name of deliverance!” these words fell deaf in his ears when his eyes trailed off the side, eventually settling on your figure draped in clothing you were uncertain to wear. hidden by the dancing curtains and the afternoon sun hitting your skin while your hair was decorated with a golden laurel wreath. you were his right hand man. you were his. and phainon thought, “maybe being a king wasn’t too bad after all.”

and as the years went by and more wars emerged, people grew doubtful. but not you. no, never you. in spite of all the bloodshed, you were patient with your care and assistance. rubbing off the blood that stained his body, or how you tend to the sword he’s used recklessly, you were never once swayed with the masses questioning. you’d still greet him warmly by the palace gates, help him settle in bed and let you treat him as if he were a child. to you, maybe he was—he grew up too fast, putting the world’s responsibilities on a plate meant for childhood games and dreams.

“are you not afraid?” he ends up asking one night as he laid in his bed. one whole arm wrapped in tight bandages as you folded his clothes by the bed’s edge. you turn to him curiously, the innocence of your childhood still in the glimmers of your eyes but it never glazes with ignorance. phainon thinks you are an angel sent from above in this light—face half illuminated by the candle in his room, his cape at your lap, and the clothing that was distinctively made to match his. in this light you were utterly and wholly his.

“of what?” you asked in return. a soft smile tugging at your lips as you move closer to him. your hand brushed with his and phainon is struck with fear the enemy could ever place on him. 

the king wonders. quietly and introspectively. completely to himself but still bare to you. “are you not afraid of me?”

and to his surprise, you laugh. he’s bewildered beyond imagination as his mind races with thoughts he could not fully process. “why are you laughing?” he asked with a furrow of his brows. hand twitching under your hold as if you’ve held him captive against his will. but deep down in his heart, phainon would not mind to be your poor servant if it meant seeing you every second of the day.

“it was a silly question, that’s all.” 

something changed in the way you looked at him that night. because the following day, and the day after that, and until the end of the month, you looked at him gently. that he was far more valuable than any life on this planet. the look of what he assumed was love. and he replies by giving you the same look, but with actions instead. 

he is still a king—a soldier meant to fight in war and not a lover meant to be in your hold—but he wanted to be yours, too. phainon didn’t want to claim you as his because you wake him up with gentle humming, settle him on the dining table with meticulous meals to satiate his unusual pickiness, or because you treat the clothing he’s deemed a curse like a part of his being that needs to be cherished. no, no, that was unbefitting of your grace and level. 

you deserved to be drowned in your favorite flowers, a dance partner under the starry night, and a future monarch that his home already loves. without meaning to, you and the nameless king of heroes have eloped to becoming lovers outside prying eyes. anyone would notice how king phainon had stars in his eyes whenever you walked in the room, how he always reached for your hand like how he did with his sword, or whenever he sought you out first during every gala or ball. you were already each other’s without having to say it or even act on it—loving has become as easy as breathing.

some historians will argue that you were only the king’s right hand, always there to serve as a clear voice in his cloudy mind. but others would argue you were more his lover, partners for eternity with entwined souls. but to phainon, you were more than these two things—you were his deliverance, a sanctuary in this exhausting world.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[samonroegf]

good teachers create good students

when you, a virgin, have to have a sex scene with hayden christensen, he shows you what a good orgasm can truly feel like, in preparation for your scene together.

costar!hayden christensen x actor!virgin!f!reader, smut, fluff, age gap, dad kink, oral (f receiving), creampie, reader is 19/20ish, hayden is late 30s, dddne?

requested by anon! ᝰ masterlist

you sat nervously in your trailer, reading over the script multiple times. this would be your first time filming a sex scene, cold sweat crawled up your back. trying to keep yourself in a somewhat good mood, you shake your head trying to physically shake away the thoughts.

a knock on your trailer door pulls you out of your brain's endless cycle. walking the few steps to the door, your breath is almost taken from you. hayden christensen, your partner actor, stood mere inches from you.

you would never admit this even being tortured, but truth be told, he was one of the main reasons you choose this role. he was a phenomenal actor, and he was quite pretty to look at. your cheeks burn just thinking about it.

you smiled nicely at the older man, who wore an equal expression.

“hey! what's up?” a cheery expression, as you spoke. you bit your check, hoping it's not too noticeable. your mind was reeling just with having him in front of you. being a kid that grew up on television, you'd always been aware of hayden. he was like that dream man, that you never have a chance with.

“just wanted to come check on you, tomorrow's shooting will be a little grueling. you think you're up for it?” he chuckled, and the sound went straight to your stomach. you just step aside allowing the taller man to enter your small trailer.

he sat in a booth with you by the window, the sun shining like gold on his light hair. you'd hoped you looked equally enchanting.

“honestly,” you dragged out the word, mindlessly scratching your arm where no itch resided.

“i’ve never actually had sex, or like an orgasm so I'm not sure I'll be too good.” his aura just made you want to talk to him, you wanted to curse him for being so inviting. your cheeks warmed again, mentally chiding yourself for telling him this at all.

hayden’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he tried to get it under control. he couldn't understand how you'd never been touched, it's been hell trying to hold back and be professional. you shot him an embarrassed smile and looked out the window.

“i can help you,” he offered, but from the look on his face you were sure he didn't mean to actually say that. a nervous giggle slipped from your lips and now it was your eyebrows that were almost in your hairline.

“oh?” you weren't sure what to say, you weren't even totally sure that this wasn't some fever dream. you pinched your leg under the table just to check, it hurt, this is very real.

he leaned back into the seat, allowing his eyes to gaze over you. you were somewhere between hazy with lust, and feeling totally exposed.

“yeah, you're a cute little thing, helps you and helps me.” it was like he was being possesed by a man touch starved. maybe he was. there was a dark glimmer in his eyes, like a shark right under the water getting ready to attack..

it made you nervous and excited. you couldn't help but squirm under his watchful stare.

“oh, um, that would be great.” you couldn't keep eye contact with him, your gaze dropping down to your fidgeting hands. unsure of what to do next. you hoped you looked more composed then you felt.

you watched hayden as he moved, getting up to lock the door and close the blinds. he would be damned if someone was going to interrupt the two of you. he is thanking whatever god out there that this opportunity was brought to him.

he came back to you, just smiling somewhere between sweet and sinister. his hand comes to hold your cheek, he was so kind and yet you knew that probably wouldn't last long. another excitingly fearful wave passes through you.

you couldn't help but lean into his touch, humming contently. you guys had been here for months working on this film together. you'd become work buddies, always cracking up on set. now you knew there was no way that it would go back to that.

big eyes look up at him, and he has to look away to keep himself in control. there would be time for rough fucking later, he wants you to know how beautiful you are. can't let your first time go to waste.

“c’mere,” he leads you to the bed on the other side of the trailer. the bed was perfectly made, almost makes him want to laugh. you're such a good girl.

you were basically dumb in his presence, something that doesn't go by unnoticed. he loves how flustered he makes you, maybe he shouldn't but it boosts his ego.

you followed his lead to the bed, coming to sit right next to him. you're somewhere between fainting and vomitting, because you're here in bed with hayden christensen and you can't say anything.

“don’t be nervous, doll, I'll be so nice to you. but you gotta talk to me here. i have to have your consent.” he obviously knew you wanted this or you wouldn't have followed him like a lovesick puppy. verbal consent above all else, especially with you being so much younger than him.

“i want this, i actually don't think I've ever wanted anything more.” it sounded more like begging, than a statement. hayden's cock hardened against his pants, and he muttered, “fuck” under his breath. a playful smirk now played at his lips.

“using your words like a good girl,” his voice was so gentle and soft like a love confession, rather than dirty talk. a whine escaped your lips, you'd never been looked at like this, and especially not talked to like this. your body felt like it was on fire, and hayden is the only fire extinguisher for miles.

words aren't needed at this moment, he just helps you lay down. coming to lay beside you, his fingers drifting over your exposed midriff.

“i’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” his words are so soft and gentle, if you didn't know any better you'd think you were in a romance novel.

“please.” you're pleading and he hasn't even touched you yet, the way he's been looking at you makes you feel like there's a million exposed wires replacing your nerves.

“you're gonna be the death of me, baby.” he chuckles lowly and dark, his lips met yours, soft and hard all at once. his kisses are gentle, slowly coaxing open your lips to let his tongue explore your mouth. he groans into the kiss, and it makes you whimper.

your fingers clutch at him, pulling him closer if that were even possible. he can't help but smile into the kiss. you're so needy and innocent, he can't help but think about how sweet you must taste.

he seperates from you, allowing you to catch your breath. you're flushed, and the lust flowing theough you is almost unbearable.

“please, hayden, need.” you're so dumb with want, not a single coherent thought in your head.

“seems little girl needs to learn some patience.” he speaks into your neck, lightly biting and kissing on the skin.

“hayden,” you're whining, your thighs rubbing together on their own accord, trying anything to get some friction, something to alleviate the pain of need.

he kisses down your body, shedding of your outfit, one piece of clothing at a time. his lips enevlope around your nipples, little sighs falling from your lips like prayers. hayden wasn't sure he'd ever grow tired of the sounds.

he moved down, slowly pulling your bottoms down. almost like he was trying to torture you, or at least that's how it makes you feel. in reality, he's trying to savor every inch of creamy skin.

he finally comes face to face with your cunt. if you weren't so lost in his touch, you might've been nervous. however his hungry eyes make you feel wanted, beautiful.

“i just need one favor, baby,” his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afriad of your answer.

“anything, whatever you want, I'm yours.” you breathed out, a sultry tone in your words. you'd never heard yourself sound like that, it almost makes you wanna hide.

he tugs his lip betwen his teeth, just for a second before letting it go.

“call me daddy, okay? think you can do that for me?” you were quick to nod. you were probably going to do it anyway, but something about the way he asked made it so much hotter.

“words, baby.” his voice has a warning tone to it, and you almost wanted to push and see what he'd do. you weren't in a place to be able to do that right now.

“yes, daddy.” your voice shook a little as you spoke, the anxious energy seeping back into your bones.

“good girl,” he kissed your happy trail, all the way down until he was mere inches from your slit.

he licked up a stripe and you were about cry from sense of relief. his tongue slipping around your clit, his touch too much and not enough all at once. you were squirming under him, he tsked you. moving his arms under your thighs to hold you in place.

“let daddy take his time, angel, i promise you'll come soon enough.” his voice was low and you were sure you could come from that alone if he just kept talking.

“sorry,” you're wearing a sheepish smile, hiding your face in your arms. one of his hands coming to bring them down, holding both of your hands in his one.

“don’t hide, i wanna see you.” he's rubbing your knuckles comfortingly. it helps ease some of the tension, your body relaxing.

“there you are, now stay still as you can for me, yeah? and don't you dare hide those little noises from me.” you hum in accordance.

he pays more attention to your pussy now. his tongue dipping in and out of your core, wrapping his lips around your clit. eliciting whines and moans from your ‘o’ shaped lips.

he inserts a single finger, and the combination of his finger thrusting in and out of fo you and his lips attacking clit makes you come undone. shaking and crying as you come, he just looks at you with a smile.

“you look so beautiful,” his voice brings you out of the teance the orgasm sent you in. you give him a playful smile, completely in awe of the man before you.

“can you give me another one? need to fill you up, baby. can you take it?” can you take it? the words echo in your mind, almost like a challenge. you were determined to show him that you could and would take it.

“of course, i can,” you push up on your arms to actually look at him, it makes him smirk at your attitude.

it doesn't take him but a few moments to get undressed, and then he's stretching your walls with his fingers. preparing your hole for his girthy cock.

“daddy, hurry.” you pout, needing to fill him all the way. determination replaced by need.

“do you want it to hurt? cause i can stuff you full, but I don't want to hear any crying.” he's becoming a little impatient with her attitude, the soft, gentle man replaced by a wolf.

the way he spoke, and the look on his face makes you giggle, a giggle that's from the need to keep pushing those buttons.

his left eyebrow arched at your little outburst, “i want to be gentle with you for your first time, but you're making that really hard, doll.” curiosity piqued, you had to see what kind of roughness he'd give you.

“then let go,” you smiled oh-so innocently at him, and he couldn't take it anymore. an almost animalistic growl tears its way from this throat. with a few strokes of his cock, he was pushing into you.

the stretch was deliciously stinging, and you weren't sure if you liked it or not. but getting to see hayden above you, tongue poking out as he does his best to stay still. he's not a monster, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, unless that's what you want. tears streaming down your face. he tsks you again, “what did i say?” his hand comes to wipe away the tears and you lean into his touch once more.

“move, please move,” you're whining, squirming and wiggling. he thought he could get used to this sight, his little girl just needing to be split by his cock.

“what's the magic word?” his tone was playful and teasing, you almost want to bite it out of him.

you thought for a moment, what would probably get the most of a reaction out of him. so still pouting, and now batting your eyelashes at him, “daddy, i need you to ruin me.” your tone was genuine, you needed it and you needed it now.

what little bit of control hayden had left, has dissipated from those seven little words. he's grabbing your hips pulling them up to meet his. fingertips diggin harsh into your flesh, and he pistons in and out of you.

“fuck, doll, you're so tight. your cunt was basically made f’ my cock. taking me so well.” the pain has subsided, and all you can think about is the waves of pleasure being brought you by a man 10 years older than you.

“mm, daddy, so good, so full, love daddy’s cock, love it so much.” you're babbling, dumb and incoherent, unable to think about anything other than his member bullying your insides.

his hips are twitching and you can tell that he's getting close. you slip a hand down to your clit to rub little circles on the bud, but you're almost immediately stopped. one hand, now wrapped around your waist as he fucks into you. the other one holding your wrist, “let me do all the work, princess, just wanna make you feel good.”

his tone was indecipherable, but you nodded dumbly, letting him attack your clit. you can feel your muscles contracting, that familiar knot forming in your stomach.

“gonna come, daddy, gonna come, dad.” you're rambling again and it's making hayden feel sick in the best way possible.

“where you want it, baby?” he's always asking for permission, nose nuzzling into your neck taking in the scent of your sweat.

“inside, please, inside, please. want all of you, please.” he's smiling down at you again, not that you can see, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body begins to convulse.

“gonna fill you up so good, angel.” his hips stutter one last time, and you can feel his cum feeling up your cunt, it just makes you more sensitive.

you both fall to the bed, out of breath and hayden is laughing. if you weren't in such a daze, you'd ask him what was up.

“damn, doll, that's the best sex I've had in a while, you did so good.” he's laying on his side, leaned up. nimble fingers pushing your hair out of your face. mumbling little conpliments as you regain composure.

“well, i think it's safe to say, I'll know exactly what to do tomorrow.” you giggled and he agreed with a hum. he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then nose, both cheeks and finallly your lips. soft and scattered kisses pepper across your skin and you giggle at him.

he gets up grabbing a bottle of water and some washrags to clean you up. easily manhandling you to wipe down your whole body from sweat, and gently collecting the cum that's cascading out of you. you wince from sensitively and he apologizes, pressing a kiss to your tummy.

he hands you the water and watches as you down the entire bottle, “i think I'd like to do this again sometime.”

[itsswritten]

finally.

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, Nessian (platonic) x reader, fluff

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Pregnancy reveal, mentions of infertility/struggles falling pregnant, symptoms of pregnancy.

Summary: After years of trying and learning to let go, you are finally gifted your beautiful baby miracle miracles.

Wings Universe - More from this world.

“Gods you really are looking radiant today, Flower!” Elodie beamed, nudging you gently with her shoulder. 

The sun was bright among the wild blossoms, sunlight filtering down to touch your skin with a feverish kiss. The season was slowly shifting from Spring to Summer. Plants were growing larger, petals spreading wider, the pollen in the air stronger. There was a buzz among the land of the Night Court, as nature geared itself for this transformation. You had felt the change in temperature, noticed how the rays licked your skin. Leaving yourself and your friends glowing, sunkissed, glimmering from working in the meadows all day. 

But radiant? That was not the word you would use.

Elodie’s compliment had your brows furrowing gently, bringing your dirt covered hand to wipe the bead of sweat that threatened to roll down your cheek. You weren’t sure how to take the compliment. It described the opposite of everything you were feeling.

Perhaps bloated, and sluggish was more accurate. Out of sorts? You couldn’t quite figure out why, there had been no changes to your routine. Yet everything about you felt, well, just different.

Even Azriel had noticed some subtle changes. Ever the Spymaster noticed everything, especially about his precious mate. Or so he thought. He had mentioned the other day that your scent was sweeter than usual. The typical tones of vanilla and honey were weaved in with a hint of something else he couldn’t quite decipher. Azriel had taken it upon himself to touch every inch of your skin to uncover what, only to come to no answer. 

That had been a long night. A night of caresses and grazes. Not that you were complaining.

Glancing down at your fingers spread within the cool damp soil of the meadows, they flexed under the sponginess of the dirt. You could feel the vitality pulse beneath your fingertips before pulling them out. Glancing upon the skin that hadn’t been touched by dirt yet. Radiant? Perhaps. You always had a glow to you, all fairies did. That unexplainable aura that lit up any room. But maybe just maybe, you had been shining a little brighter. 

Maybe.

Casting a fertilising charm within the ground had been today’s task. Along with your usual working group you had headed to the meadows and woodlands on the outskirts of the Night Court. This particular part of your job, the more physical aspect, was one you usually relished in. The ache of your muscles and bones at the end of a hard day of graft, usually, gave you some kind of instant gratification. But fatigue was plaguing you.

You had been sleeping more than usual. Being a Fairy meant you were always rose with that hot shining beacon in the sky, but there had been numerous mornings recently where Azriel had to coax you from your slumber. The sunshine no longer acting as your alarm. Azriel would rouse you with whispered compliments and gentle kisses. Sometimes, his shadows would stir you too, brushing your skin with their cooling touch.

There had even been times when Azriel had let you sleep in. Never a working day of course. Gods be damned, Azriel knew better than that. A day missed at the meadow was the end of the world. Or at least your world. Azriel learnt in the early years of friendship that you took your duty very seriously. So on the days where he knew you had nowhere to be– nowhere other than his arms. He let you sleep.

“Honestly y/n you have this glow about you…” Elodie continued, turning fully to you now her own hands pulling out of the soil. She gently brushed them down her honey coloured dress, her apron picking up the soil as she wiped them. The sun cast a gentle glow across her deep skin, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. A curiosity you wanted to question but before you could, the call for lunch was bellowed across the meadow. 

Food wrapped in little gingham cloths were passed round, a parcel finding its way to your lap. You were starving you realised, as your tummy made a small groaning noise. Hastily you unravelled the packed lunch, the sweet recognisable scent filling the air around you, a smile spreading on your plump lips at today’s choice.

Cake and jam. Your favourite.

The little parcel was packed with nuts, berries, and veggies. But your sweet tooth had your fingers itching to pick up the sponge cake. Licking your lips gently, you brought the sweet slice, covered in a slab of strawberry jam to your lips. Taking a bite of your favourite sweet treat. 

Only it wasn’t sweet.

Instantly you gagged.

The chewed up cake quickly came rolling out of your mouth as you discreetly caught it in your hand.

“Is the food off?” Elodie hushed quietly, turning to you as she inspected your lunch. 

Your group always took turns bringing in food for the day. And you truly couldn’t knock your friends baking. Perhaps a little stereotypical, but fairies were very domestic. Not only great with plants and gardening, but also sewing, crafting, and of course baking. Gus in particular, whose cake you had just spat out was probably the best baker of all the Hollow. 

Shaking your head quickly, you secretly hid the chewed up cake underneath your berries. Your tongue swilling the metallic taste the cake had filled your mouth with. You couldn’t bear Gus finding out you’d spat out his food. The poor male would be heartbroken. 

“No, no it isn’t. It’s fine I promise. I don’t know what came over me,” you hurried out a whisper. “I’ve been feeling a little off recently. Maybe I’m under the weather.”

Placing her lunch to the side, your friend looked at you with her deep warm eyes, concerned etched into her brows as she gently pressed the back of her hand on your forehead.

Chewing your lip you let your friend examine you. “You don’t have a temperature…” she muttered, more to herself than to you as she began to fuss.

Leaning closer then, her hands clasped around your cheeks. Her grip was slightly firm as your lips were squished into a pout. She didn’t notice though, not as her eyes began to quickly flicker over every line and curve of your face. Her meticulous scrutiny not letting up. A glimmer of something winked across her face, catching her off guard if only for a second before her brows furrowed.

Then she began to sniff you.

“El, what are you doing?” You asked, tone annoyed and bashful, as you swatted her looming face away lightly. She was naturally quite a tactile fairy, but even this was a bit much for her. 

Elodie had sat back now, her eyes widening. It was as though you could see in her eyes the pieces falling into place, but for a puzzle you weren't aware of.

“Thank the Mother,” she whispered, her lips stretching to a smile, before she clasped your hand pulling you away from the group.

“El?” You were annoyed now. Your fingers were flexing at your sides, as she had pulled you into a field filled with tulips. The pink and orange hues swayed gently in the breeze, as an uneasiness began to roll over you. 

“It all makes sense now. How you were so emotional when you saw those baby hedgehogs the other day–”

Shaking your head, you lifted your hands in confusion. You didn’t understand.

“Your scent, your glow…your wings!”

There was an uncomfortable rising feeling under your skin at the signs your friend began to mention, the symptoms you knew all too well that were rolling off her tongue. You knew them so well because for a period of time you had analysed every part of yourself hoping to see these aspects, only to not ever see a glimmer.

It couldn’t be?

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you squinted to take a hard look at your wings. Furling the iridescent membranes closer to you, as you examined the very appendages your friend was peering so intently at.

There was nothing really different…except maybe there was. You squinted harder.

The tips. 

They’d turned a darker pink.

Your heart was in your throat, an audible gasp leaving your lips as you turned to get a closer look. Spinning in a circle, round and round. Only to find the exact thing Elodie had noticed.

“Wait, Elodie. No, it can’t be?” your lip quivered as realisation began to sink in.

You and Azriel had decided two years ago that you wanted to expand your family. Especially seeing your loved ones with their own growing families. Feyre and Rhys had Nyx and Selene. And of course, Nesta and Cassian recently had their little Athena.

Over the years you had tried everything, taking tonics, eating certain foods, you had even scheduled a very meticulous conceiving plan. But nothing worked. There had been numerous appointments with Madja, and even the healers and midwives of the Hollow. But everything you did was futile. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fall pregnant.

There was a period of time your mind tore you apart. Speculating and obsessively analysing the possibilities of why you couldn’t conceive. That perhaps it was you and Azriel that weren’t compatible. Biologically. That the Mother had made a mistake with you. That maybe things would have been different if you were Illyrian, not ‘lesser’ fae. That your own body was not strong enough to nurture his offspring. Defective somehow.

That duration of your life had been hard, and even harder to move on from. But with time, and endless love and support from your mate you eventually let go of that dream.

But now, that slither of hope was growing brighter than the summer sun beaming down on you.

Eloide, your longest friend. Had her hands clasped around yours. Her own eyes filled with a watery brim, mirroring your own.

She nodded with a smile.

You were pregnant.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel stood darkly behind his High Lord who was seated casually at the head of the meeting. Azriel was positioned on the left, Cassian on the right. The perfect guards to the Night Court. The large obsidian table stretched across the room. High Lords littered down the long ornate slab, all wearing the colours of their respective court. A few of Rhys’ closest alliances had joined for this gathering, discussing borders and peace treaties.

The meeting had begun in the morning, and by the stacks of documents officials were passing round it didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.

Azriel was focused, stood clad in his Illyrian leathers, blue syphons gleaming as the muscles in his jaw flexed. Despite this being an era of peace, with so many High Lord’s and emissaires in the room he was on high alert. His shadows gently grazed along the floor of the room as Azriel stayed attuned to the room's conversation.

One of his shadows seemed restless though, vibrating slightly behind his wing before curling up to his ear. Revealing nothing but nervous energy. 

With a subtle jolt, Azriels wings unfurled slightly as he felt a small ripple down the bond. It was skittish and nervous, unease seeping from you down the thread.

Cassian gave Azriel a sideways glance, an unspoken question if everything was okay. But Azriel only stood straighter for his answer, reclaiming his composure as he sent a gentle vibration down the warm glowing bond.

Is everything okay, my love?

You were quite a passionate soul, an empath. Oftentimes, involuntarily, Azriel would feel all types of emotion spill down the bond. It was one of the reasons he loved you, a quality he found endearing. How open to love you were, how you felt the sorrow and joy of others wholeheartedly. But this uneasiness left him unsettled.

Azriel was only met with silence on your end. Spurring him to send another ripple. His shadows started to become more restless, spreading and striking behind his wings subtly, as if displaying the uneasiness of their master or perhaps they were twitching out of eagerness for something else– for someone else.

Azriel was usually quite a composed male, cool and collected was the blueprint of his facade. Yet, when it came to you and your welfare, any patience went quickly out the window.

He was about to send one of his shadowy tendrils to look for you, to check you were okay in the meadows. Also on the verge of sending another question down the bond. Only for the large oak doors to swing open with a force that flushed the room with a gust of wind.

You.

It was you, his beautiful shining mate. 

A very beautiful dishevelled mate, however.

You were flushed, cheeks hot and rosy as you stumbled into the large meeting room. Your lovely pink dress was covered in soil, the lacy strap hanging off your shoulder. The flowers you’d braided into your hair that morning were hanging limp only by a few strands. Pink hues of light flickered across the room, as it became obvious to everyone your beautiful wings were unfurled behind you.

There had been no stopping you once you’d got your confirmation, you had flown urgently to River House. Storming through the hallways with a haste one wouldn’t usually associated with such a delicate fairy.

But you needed him. You needed your mate.

You needed Azriel, and no meeting, no court officials or High Lords were going to stop you.

Your eyes instantly found those hazel beacons, eyes locked in on your handsome shadow of a lover. If you weren’t so encaptured by him, you may have noticed the panicked scrape of Rhys’ chair as he stood in concern, or how Cassian left his post towards you. Hand twitching by his sword, ready to strike at any recognition of the danger that must have caused this display by you.

If you’d been listening you might have noticed how the room had fallen quickly into a silence, all heads snapping to you. Momentarily, eyes glazing over the iridescent lights that were now reflecting off your wings.

A very rare sight.

“What a beauty…” someone purred, although you didn’t hear them.

Azriel was beside you in mere seconds, his shadows consuming you protectively moving you slightly into the pocket realm. The tendrils coiled on the corners of your vision so you could only see Azriel, who tenderly had a hand pressed against your jaw, thumb gently grazing the dirt spread on your face. His other arm protectively wrapped around you pulling you close.

Something must have happened Azriel concluded. Fear seeped into his mind as he began to imagine the worst.

Your energy, the vulnerable look in your eyes and tousled appearance had Azriel reeling. Itching to figure out what had caused this. Had a danger broken into the court? Had his shadows missed something? Were you hurt?

“My love, what is it? What’s wrong?” there was an urgency in his tone.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. Azriel was confused. You were in a state of disarray, but he could feel nothing of the sort through the bond. Instead there was an overwhelming feeling of joy and love rippling through.

“There is nothing wrong, love…finally everything is right,” you cried through your smile.

These were not Azriel’s choice of words, but later on when Cassian and Rhys relayed the scenario to the rest of the family they said you looked a little mad. Deranged even. Your tangled appearance and abrupt entrance was unlike anything they’d seen from you.

Azriel was quick to move you from here, his shadows engulfing you both as they transported you to a small lounge in the house. He wanted you away from prying eyes, and needed to check you were safe. That you weren’t hurt. His hands were still cupped around your face as he began to inspect you carefully. His eyes analysing your expression, shadows circling around your ankles to check for anything that might explain your distress– no it wasn’t distress, it wasn’t madness, it was joy.

“Breathe my little butterfly, what’s got you so worked up that you barged into a High Lord’s meeting?” Azriel cooed, his expression softening as he recognised the vulnerability in your eyes. Large scarred hands lightly brushed your unrurly hair, his fingers delicately bringing the dress strap back over your shoulder as he tried to soothe you with his touch.

“Everything is finally right Azriel,'' you whispered, repeating the words from earlier. For a moment Azriel couldn’t understand. The disarray, the vulnerability, the uneasiness. How could everything finally be right?

But then he felt it, the rippling down the bond. That unconditional love again, joy, delight…but also relief. Relief that something had finally happened. Something you had both been waiting, praying and dreaming of.

The Shadowsinger tilted his head, his hands dropping from your face, not daring to breathe the words himself as the emotions he felt began to paint a vivid picture.

“I’m pregnant.”

In that moment Azriel crashed down onto his knees, an overwhelming sensation consuming him as he digested the truth you spoke. It was as if at that moment, everything slowly slotted into place. The clues he hadn’t even known were clues sung to him. Your scent, your temperament and emotions, your wings. Everything he had acknowledged subconsciously, had been tucked away in his mind because he couldn’t phantom the possibility– the possibility of being wrong. Getting your hopes up.

His hands softly came to your hips, drawing you closer as he rested his forehead against your stomach.

“We’re having a baby?” Azriel’s voice broke, the words barely audible.

“Babies.” You whispered back.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian had been pacing back and forth outside the lounge for well over an hour now. He’d desperately called down the bond to Nesta, who had arrived in a hurry with their little Athena in her arms. His reaction may have been slightly over dramatic. But Cassian assured her that if Nesta had seen the state you’d run into the meeting room earlier, she would be behaving the same way.

Nesta didn’t really believe him, her mate had a way of being quite theatrical in situations.

There had been no danger, Azriel had spoken into Rhys mind and it had been passed onto Cassian. So Cassian spent the time speculating on what could have brought such an uncharacteristically reaction from you. He’d seen you when things didn’t go the plan in the meadows and assumed something at work must have gone array.

Nesta sat lazily in a chair outside the lounge, book in hand. Every now and then, glancing up at her mate who was wearing a mark in the stone floor from his pacing. Cassian held his little baby while he patrolled outside the room, whispering theories on what possibly could have happened to Auntie y/n.

“I don’t know Thena…maybe the ladybirds lost their spots again?” He mused, recalling a previous drama you had shared with him once, that had sent you a little haywire last year.

“All spots are accounted for,” your voice sang. Cassian hadn’t even noticed you and Azriel had stepped out of the room.

“Sorry brother I didn’t know you were waiting for us” Azriel smiled softly, giving his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Cassian’s expression softened, as Nesta came to his side. Her arm looping around his free side while she kissed her little babe on the head. “Is everything okay though?” Cassian asked, concern still lingering.

“More than okay,” you beamed, tears quickly filling your eyes again.

Cassian and Nesta glanced between you both. Their expressions desperately trying to figure out what was happening. The penny dropped for Nesta first. Her own lips pulled into a genuine smile.

“Thank the Mother” she grinned, stepping forward to embrace you tightly.

The tears were spilling then, as you hugged your friend back. Little sobs racking through your body. You thought you’d cried it all out in Azriel’s arms, that there were no more tears left to give. But now, in the embrace of your friends– your family. Reality sunk in much deeper.

It only took Cassian a few moments and a glance at Azriel’s overjoyed but emotional expression to understand what was happening.

“Truly brother?” He beamed. Azriel nodded, a small tear running down his face as Cassian bear-hugged his friend, making sure Athena wasn’t squished between the giant Illyrians. 

It didn’t take long for Cassian to start shouting it from the rooftops, bellowing down the halls of River house that two baby Shadowsingers were on their way. And of course, naturally, the day turned into a celebration, a gathering with your loved ones to toast your beautiful miracle babies. 

Later that night, after Rhys and Cassian had drowned themselves in whiskey with a competition of who would be the favourite uncle.

Azriel joined you in bed, you were propped up by plush pillows against the large headboard, night dress adorned as you gazed down at your tummy. Your hands resting lightly on your stomach.

“Finally” you whispered, as Azriel laid beside you, his own hand covering both of yours as he nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent.

He breathed deeply against your throat, relief and joy rippling through every inch of his skin, “Finally.”

a/n: Here is is!!! So sorry this took so long, I've been so busy with lots of interviews and prepping, which has eaten into a lot of my energy recently. But I hope this was worth the wait! I think the next scene that was voted for was the truth or dare/drinking games which would be set pre bond snapping/in the friendship era! So I'll try write that next unless there's something else first you'd like? Anyway I love writing about these two, their my little fluff couple <3 - Lottie x

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[rafesplaymate]

The Other Woman

Rafe Cameron x Stripper!Reader

݁༉‧₊˚. navigation. ݁༉‧₊˚. masterlist.

warnings: angst. cheating (not on reader). substance use. descriptions of smut. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: there will be no second part

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

“The other woman has time to manicure her nails

The other woman is perfect where her rival fails.”

Her arms feel like the sun on a breezy day. Shining on him and encasing him in warmth while the cool winds prickle at his skin. Her scent like a pheromone that was designed solely to attract him. Her skin like expensive silk under his fingertips, delicate and smooth. Her lips felt like satin, brushing and sponging against his skin, lips and body in a way that was entirely addictive. She was entirely addictive; she was his haven. The luxury between her legs only he had access too. Her arousal was a flavor that could never be matched and that he yearned for when she wasn’t on his tongue. Slipping inside her felt like he had a taste of heaven, something he was entirely dedicated to worshipping. She was a deity he would willingly sacrifice his soul and life to.

“Baby… she keeps calling you.” Whispered out that voice that was like a sweet symphony to his ears and calmed down the ocean of complex emotions that dwelled in his heart. Rafe groaned in disappointment at his moment of peace being interrupted once more, burying his face deeper in the softness of her tummy while her manicured nails grazed his scalp. Feeling the soft pricks of hair under her smooth finger tips, touching him with a delicacy only she knew how to have. He sighed once more before bringing his head up and reaching a hand over to the incessant buzzing next to them in her satin sheets. Watching as Sofia’s contact showed for the 5th time that hour.

Rafe can’t exactly blame her, he promised her a nice dinner. Yet, he got to caught up in the girl who captivated his entire being and the one whose inner legs he finds solace in every night or day he can. Just seeing her glimmering smile or seductive gaze makes his knees buckle. He’s entirely fascinated by her, like a diamond in the rough of people who inhabit the island they live on. She’s unlike anything or anyone he’s ever known, the way she maneuvers her body on stage and glimmers under the club lights. The way he was entirely bewitched by the siren she was. He won’t ever forget the night Topper and Kelce dragged him out to a club he had no interest in being at. Small, yet no conviction in his claims of, ‘I have a girl, bro.’ He’s so entirely grateful he went. Topper’s convincing of, ‘what she doesn’t know won’t kill her, man. Trust there’s this girl there that will drive you insane. She’s got me and Kelce hooked.’ To which Rafe gave a small eye roll and scoff of, ‘any girl with her tits out has your attention.’ Topper only laughed and Kelce along with him before biting back a, ‘but hers are premium.’ As they all toppled into his truck.

That night was fate, and he knew that any woman he met or has yet to meet will pale in comparison to the goddess who’s enthralled his being and keeps him stuck in a perpetual state of desire for her and her alone. The moment he saw her glide across stage, in nothing but glimmering lingerie and wild hair. Her eyes packed on with glitter and pretty lips glossed so enticingly. Her body the kind of thing men carve into stone to keep as a recollection for life. The way she slithered across stage with her eyes set on him and only him. Singling him out while the cheers and hoots of his friends, other club goers and patrons faded into the background. Both of them fascinated with one another. The way she slung herself across his lap with her freed tits pressing into him and her intoxicating perfume swirling around him like an aphrodisiac.

“The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume.”

He paid for a lap dance that very night and let her help him escape in the private room under glaring, neon pink lights. Running his hands over every inch of her beautiful body as scraped her long nails against his skin and moved sensually across him. That night sealed their fate, and it didn’t take much convincing to let him take her home to Tannyhill. Making out in the back of Topper’s truck while him and Kelce smirked as they watched through the rear-view mirror. Praising their friend and promising to seal their lips when they were dropped off. That night y/n and Rafe brought their bodies and souls together, all night long. Sweat sticking them together as her inner thighs dripped with their mixed arousal. Their lips not leaving any inch of each other‘s bodies undiscovered. He marked her that night with his possession and allowed her to rake her nails down his strong back, calculating in his mind how he’d hide it from Sofia.

After that night any thought of another woman aside from the one under him was gone, his girlfriend included. The unsaid energy bringing their souls together as if they were lovers destined to meet. He licked and snorted lines off her body as he rubbed the powdery substance against her gums. Pouring champagne on her as he licked it up and let it soak his sheets right next to her arousal. She was like an added substance he was quickly growing addicted to and he knew this was an addiction that would never end. He took her apart over the balcony under the stars of the night sky as she whined and whimpered into the warm air. He was king and she would be queen.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

Now months later their affair is still going strong, he more often than not finds himself entangled in her at her penthouse he put her into. Vowing to move her into his mansion next. He’s yet find a way to end things with Sofia, he knows y/n is the one he wants to settle with. He wants everything with her. Aside from the passion that connects them physically it’s the understanding of their minds that really links them together. She understands him, she loves him in all his dark glory. Allowing him to be himself without feeling the need to try and fix him. Her understands her, in all her shady grandeur. They’re just as fucked up as one another; she’s not ashamed of who he truly is. She doesn’t keep him from changing either, she grows alongside him as the learn to love one another beautifully.

Rafe tells her about his dad, the pogues, even the yearning he has to reconcile with his sister. He cries to her and lets her hold him as he sobs into her naked chest, feeling her kiss his tears away. She always whispers soft, ‘let it out, baby. it’s okay, I’m here.’ Consoling him with gentle caresses and kisses. He feels guilt, guilt for keeping her in the shadows of secrecy. Yet, he’s not ready for the universe they’ve built for themselves to come to an end. He doesn’t want to share her with the world, he’s selfish and wants her all to himself. He keeps her locked away in the luxurious penthouse he’s granted her and has even taken her out of the club by providing for her. She’s his hidden gem, he knows it hurts her. It hurts him too.

He finds it difficult to end things with Sofia. Her softness and kindness to him never forgotten. He’s still fond of the girl who was there for him when no one else was. Who listened to him cry and his grieving words as he spread his father’s ashes into the ocean. Sofia is familiar, she’s routine. She’s comfortable in a different way and he doesn’t want to let it go. He knows he deeply adores y/n, he loves her with every fiber of his being. But he loved Sofia first, she’ll always have a place in his heart for the kindness and love she granted him when he needed it most. That’s why he leaves y/n every morning to go back to her. He knows it’s cowardly; he knows it’s completely selfish. He can see the tears falling from her closed eyes as she pretends to be asleep while he softly walks around the bedroom as to not wake her when he leaves in the mornings. He always knows she’s awake. Especially when he presses a kiss to her forehead as he softly strokes her hair. Promising with a whisper to her skin that he’ll be back and that he loves her. He’ll always go back for her, he’ll always go back to her.

When he greets Sofia, she looks at him with those pretty doe eyes that are so different yet just as beautiful as the ones he’s grown accustomed to love. Natural lashes in comparison to y/n’s pretty extensions he pays for. They’re both so beautiful, yet so different to him. Especially in the way they hold his gaze. When he kisses Sofia it’s not quite as intoxicating, yet he likes it nonetheless. Her scent not as addictive but he still finds himself burying his nose into her neck as he hugs her. While Sofia is all earthly beauty, y/n is pure glamour. Sofia is soft, meek, not a touch of makeup kisses her pretty face. Whereas y/n is more resilient, durable and she has to be in the line of work she succumbed to. With the way of life she lived. Her gorgeous face accentuated by flawlessly done makeup. He doesn’t think she needs it, but he loves it nonetheless. Sofia’s nails are always blunt and rarely polished, y/n’s nails always have a nicely perfected manicure. Sofia loves sandals and sneakers, y/n loves wedges and heels. Sofia’s lips always moisturized with chapstick, y/n lips always glimmering with gloss. He likes how different they are from their personalities to their styles. They’re like day and night. Polar opposites so beautiful in their own right. He’s a selfish, selfish man. He knows one day he’ll have to choose, but for now….he holds both hearts in the palm of his hand. Only one of them is feeling the stabbing pain of abandonment and pining the other has the pleasure of not being subjected too. He knows it, yet he can’t help it. Sofia is pure routine, y/n is his passion. Being with her is like being inebriated. Like an adrenaline rush he always craves, that he loves. He lives for it.

“And when her old man comes to call

He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen.

‘Cause to be by her side

It's such a change from old routine.”

Y/n waits, she always will. She knows he’ll be back. She’s begged him to stay, but he never does. Just a quick promise of his awaited return as his fully clothed body steps to her naked one which is kneeling in the satin sheets. A representation of the vulnerability she’s subjected herself to just for his approval. Her long lashes clumped with tears as her chin wobbles. He thinks she looks so beautiful like this; the dark part of him liking the way she longs and whines for him. He always gives her chin a quick pinch as he pulls away from their kiss and steps out of the bedroom. Y/n always falls back into the sheets as the tears that watered in her lash line fall down her smooth cheeks. Listening to his footsteps farthering and ultimately the front door closing shut as he leaves her once more.

She knows why, she knows what she is. A secret, a mistress. His side girl. She can’t help it; the desire she has for him overcoming her self worth and respect for his girlfriend. She feels the grief that fills her body every time he leaves, only to disappear every time he returns. She can’t bring herself to end it. Can’t bring herself to leave him alone, or give him an ultimatum that it’s me or her. She knows it’s pathetic, yet she can’t bring that thought to overcome the undying love she’s developed for him. So she does as he wants, she waits for him. She always will. When her body lays back down, and she’s sure he’s gone. Only then is when she lets the overwhelming hurt leave her body in sobs of pure anguish as she lets sleep overtake her body. Succumbing to the fatigue of a heart that is continually broken.

“The other woman will always cry herself to sleep

The other woman will never have his love to keep.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

a/n: was feeling angsty tn ugh. i hope you all enjoy, pls let me know your thoughts! muah!

© 2024 | rafesplaymate

[joelmillerisapunk]

Moth to a Flame

Firefighter!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,877

Summary: During a fire station training session, seasoned firefighter Joel Miller becomes entranced by a volunteer's poise and spirit. When you lose your cherished nanna's ring in the hustle and bustle, Joel seizes the opportunity to return it.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, male masturbation, soft but dom!Joel, light alcohol consumption, f!oral receiving, reader wears a dress.

Notes: Tysm @joelslegalwhre for being the most incredible human and beta 💖 tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider

In the golden embrace of the morning sun, the fire station pulsates with an electric anticipation. The air is thick with the scent of determination and the metallic tang of polished trucks standing at attention. Joel Miller, a firefighter with a decade of scars and stories etched into his soul, feels the familiar rush of adrenaline as he prepares for the day's training session with live volunteers. The heat, the weight of his gear, and the omnipresent smoke are his constants, his companions in a dance with danger that defines his existence. Yet amidst this orchestrated chaos, a new melody captures Joel's attention. You stand there, signing waivers, a vision of delicate strength wrapped in an aura of grace. Your eyes sparkle as bright as the ring on your finger with a blend of trepidation and thrill. There's an undeniable resilience in your gaze, and in this moment, Joel is certain, he yearns to unravel the story behind those eyes.

As you slip into character for the training exercise, your performance is nothing short of mesmerizing. You become the embodiment of someone caught in tragedy's grip, each flinch and strained breath echoing through Joel's heart like a siren's call. The world around him blurs into insignificance; all that remains is you—a beacon amidst smoke and shadows.

Joel watches you intently as you navigate through simulated wreckage with elegance despite your role as an injured victim. Your portrayal is hauntingly authentic; it stirs something within him that goes beyond professional admiration—it touches on something deeply human and profoundly connective. With every second that passes, Joel feels himself being drawn deeper into your orbit, captivated by your enigmatic presence and vibrant spirit that shines even in play-acted despair.

As Joel moves closer to you during these drills designed to hone their skills, he finds himself longing not just for safety but also for connection.

———

As the echoes of the day's training drills dissipate into the quiet corners of the fire station, a stillness settles over the scene. The once vibrant cacophony of shouts and machinery now gives way to a serene hush, as if the very building itself exhales a sigh of relief.

In this newfound calm, Joel's gaze falls upon a glimmering object nestled against the concrete floor. He stoops down, his gloved fingers encircling the small, radiant treasure. It's your ring—the same one you wore when you first walked in, its presence etched in his memory from when you signed those waivers with such care. The ring looks well-traveled, its metal worn smooth by countless days and nights on your finger.

With a sense of purpose, Joel secures the ring in his pocket. He hastens through his post-training routine, shedding the day's sweat and grime under the cleansing spray of the station's shower before gathering his belongings to depart. But there's an unfinished task that weighs on his mind, one that cannot wait until tomorrow.

Approaching Beatrice's desk with a warm smile playing on his lips, he prepares to make his request known. "Beatrice," he begins affectionately, "my favorite admin."

She looks up from her paperwork and returns his smile with one of her own. "Joel Miller," she says with a hint of playfulness in her voice. "What brings you to my corner of chaos today?"

He chuckles lightly at her jest and nods towards her computer screen where he knows she keeps all their records meticulously organized. "Actually," Joel confesses earnestly, "I need your help trackin’ down my victim from today's exercise." He gently takes the ring from the safety of his pocket and holds it up for Beatrice to see. "She dropped somethin’ quite precious during all that commotion.”

"No problem at all, Joel," she chirps, her voice as bright as the sun filtering through the station windows. "Just give me a moment."

"Thank you, darlin’," Joel responds gratefully, his own smile mirroring hers as he waits for the information that will bridge the gap between him and you. The seconds tick by in anticipation, each one carrying the promise of an imminent reunion that stirs his heart more than any fire ever could.

———

As Joel strides toward your neighborhood, the address scribbled on the post-it note seems to pulse with a rhythm that matches his quickening heartbeat. The discovery that you live just a few blocks away from him in this cozy enclave feels like a serendipitous twist of fate. With each step he takes, the anticipation builds within his chest, a fluttering sensation that's both exhilarating and unfamiliar.

The trees lining the sidewalk whisper secrets as he passes, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. He navigates the familiar streets with a newfound sense of purpose, each step bringing him closer to your front door—and to the mystery that is you.

Upon reaching your home, Joel pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. The facade of the house seems to reflect his own nervous energy back at him. He takes a deep breath and ascends the front steps, his heart pounding with an intensity he hasn't felt in years.

With a trembling hand, he reaches out to press the doorbell, but before he can, the door swings open. There you stand, framed by the doorway and bathed in soft afternoon light. Your yellow sundress adorned with white flowers accentuates your silhouette, while an intricate silver chain with two delicate pendant charms rests against your skin—a subtle allure that captivates him instantly.

"Hello?" you inquire cautiously, your expression one of mild confusion—a sign that perhaps you don't remember him as vividly as he remembers you from just hours before at the fire station drill.

"Hey there," Joel begins with an attempt at casualness that belies his racing pulse and slightly unsteady voice. He clears his throat and steadies himself before continuing, "I'm Joel from earlier today—the fire department training session." His hand instinctively lifts to present your ring between two fingers for you to see. "I believe this belongs to you."

Your eyes widen in surprise and relief as recognition dawns on your face—a beautiful tableau of emotions playing across it like sunlight dancing on water's surface. "My nanna's ring!" You exclaim softly while gently accepting it back into your care with delicate fingers poised between reverence and joy at its recovery.

The gratitude shining in your eyes is palpable as they meet his once more over this small but significant reunion of yours with such precious memories attached. Your words of gratitude hang in the air like a sweet melody, and with a gentle tug, you pull Joel into a warm embrace. "Thank you," you say softly against his shoulder, "you have no idea what this ring means to me. I thought it was lost forever."

As the hug comes to an end, you step back, your gaze drifting toward the interior of your home before returning to meet Joel's eyes. There's a sincerity in your voice that's impossible to ignore as you extend an invitation that catches him off guard. "I was just making dinner. Would you like to join me? It's the least I can do after you've returned something so precious."

Joel's hand instinctively moves to the back of his neck, a sign of his nervousness as he contemplates your offer. "Wouldn't wanna impose," he replies hesitantly.

"Not at all," you assure him with a reassuring smile. "It's just spaghetti and meatballs—nothing fancy."

The mention of a home-cooked meal stirs something within Joel. His demanding schedule often leaves him with little time for such simple pleasures, and the prospect of enjoying one now is unexpectedly enticing.

"If it's not too much trouble ma'am."

You catch the slightest wince in Joel's expression as the word "ma'am" slips from his lips, and you can't help but tease him a little. "Please, ma'am makes me sound like some old spinster," you say with a light-hearted laugh. You introduce yourself by name before extending your hand in greeting. You step back, holding the door open, an unspoken invitation for him to cross the threshold into the warmth of your abode.

Joel pauses, a momentary hesitation before he steps inside, his senses are immediately greeted by the intoxicating aroma of home-cooked food that fills every corner of the house. “Smells delicious," he remarks, his voice tinged with anticipation.

"Hope it tastes even better," you reply with a smile, gesturing around you. "Please, make yourself at home. Mi casa es tu casa, or whatever it is."

As you lead him through the foyer, he takes in the cozy living room, a space that feels both personal and welcoming. The walls are adorned with photographs—snapshots of your life, your loved ones, and cherished memories. A stack of books on the coffee table hints at your eclectic tastes, while a vibrant bouquet of fresh flowers adds a touch of elegance and freshness to the room.

You guide Joel to the kitchen, where he takes a seat at the island, a central hub of domestic activity. You head to the refrigerator, pulling out a couple of beers. "Drink?" you ask, holding one out for him.

You watch as Joel's eyes flicker with a hint of surprise, perhaps at the contrast between the expected glass of wine and the down-to-earth beer in your hand. "Didn't take ya for a beer girl," he comments, a playful challenge in his tone.

You let out a small giggle, the sound mingling with the clink of bottles. "My parents are the wine connoisseurs," you explain, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. "I keep beer on hand just to stir the pot. They turn their noses up at it, call it a 'poor man's drink,' but I love the simplicity. No need for fancy glasses or decanting—just open and enjoy." You twist off the cap and take a sip, your expression one of contentment. "It's my little rebellion."

Joel can’t help but smirk as he sips his beer. You lift your drink and take a refreshing sip before you set it gently on the counter. Turning your attention back to the stove, you tend to the sauce, stirring with a practiced hand, the rich aroma filling the kitchen and mingling with the yeasty scent of the beer.

Joel takes a long drink from his beer, the bottle cool against his lips as he watches you move gracefully around the kitchen. He's a sweet man, the kind who would offer the shirt off his back without a second thought. Yet, beneath that kindness lies a deep-seated longing—a desire to find someone like you to make his wife, to be the heart of his home.

As he observes you, his mind begins to weave elaborate fantasies. He imagines himself returning from a grueling day of battling flames, the anticipation building as he envisions you waiting for him in your charming sundress and apron, bent over as you retrieve dinner from the oven. In his mind's eye, you're sans panties, a detail that sends a thrill through him.

His pants begin to stir with this thought, an involuntary twitch that betrays his growing arousal. The fantasy escalates; he sees himself approaching you from behind with his erection straining against the fabric of his jeans. He imagines grabbing your hips and plunging into you with one swift motion, filling you completely as your moans of pleasure echo in his ears. The scenario is tantalizingly vivid, and it fuels the hardening of his cock, which now presses urgently against his denim confines.

The fantasy lingers too long—a delicious torment that has him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He takes another swig of beer in hopes of quelling the fire that burns within him, all while keeping his gaze fixed on you.

You're oblivious to the storm of desire raging across from you as you stir the sauce on the stove and speak over the hum of the fan. Your voice is soft and inviting when you apologize for the noise and offer Joel another beer from the fridge—a gesture so simple yet so full of warmth.

Then it happens; as if by some unspoken cue in this erotic dance between reality and fantasy, you bend down to take out the garlic bread you've prepared. The hem of your sundress lifts just enough for Joel to catch sight of what he's been imagining; no panties—a confirmation that sets his heart racing and sends a jolt straight to his groin.

"Shit..." he murmurs under his breath while subtly trying to adjust himself in an attempt to conceal his burgeoning erection beneath the tablecloth draped over your dining table. "Mind if I use your restroom?" Joel asks hurriedly, striving for normalcy despite feeling anything but normal at this moment.

You turn around with a smile that lights up your face like a sunrise over calm waters—warm and welcoming without even realizing how much more fuel it adds to Joel's fiery imagination. “Of course, just down the hall, first door on the left."

"Thanks," Joel manages to say, his voice betraying a hint of awkwardness as he rises from his chair. He quickly exits the kitchen, his steps hurried as he makes his way toward the sanctuary of the bathroom. The door closes behind him, and in the privacy of this small space, he allows himself to feel the full extent of his arousal.

His hands find the cool wall in front of him, bracing himself as he tries to regain control over his body's reactions. But it's no use; the image of you, the fleeting glimpse of your naked flesh beneath that sundress, has ignited a fire within him that only one thing can quench.

With trembling hands, Joel releases his cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers, letting them fall to the floor. His fingers wrap around his length while his other hand presses against the wall for support. His thumb caresses his balls as he closes his eyes and loses himself in the fantasy of being inside you—your warmth enveloping him completely.

The sensation is overwhelming; with each stroke, he imagines himself thrusting into your wet cunt, feeling your body yield to him as pleasure courses through both of you. His breath hitches as he pictures your inner thighs slick against his hard cock, an image so vivid it feels like reality rather than mere fantasy.

His rhythm quickens; the sound of his heavy breathing fills the room as he chases release—a necessary escape from this fevered dream that has taken hold of him. With a final groan Joel reaches climax, spilling himself onto his hand in hot spurts while images of you dance before his closed eyes.

Once spent and with control regained, Joel cleans up and takes a moment to compose himself before stepping out into the hallway once more.

He reenters the kitchen with cautious steps; taking in every detail anew: how your hair sways gently with each movement; how gracefully you navigate around your own space; how utterly captivating you are without even trying to be so. Like an intoxicating drug coursing through Joel's veins—a potent mix that leaves him craving more.

You pivot gracefully, two plates cradled in your hands, their contents a testament to your culinary prowess. As you sit down beside Joel, he watches you with an intensity that borders on reverence. Every subtle movement of your hair, every shift of your body captivates him utterly. It's as though he's discovered a newfound addiction, one that courses through his veins and leaves him yearning for more—more of your presence, more of this warmth that seems to radiate from you effortlessly.

The scent of garlic wafts through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread and homemade sauce. It's a comforting symphony of scents that causes Joel's mouth to water in anticipation.

"Hope it's good," you say with a hint of modesty in your voice, "sorry it's nothing more interesting."

Joel shakes his head emphatically after taking his first bite of pasta. "It's perfect," he assures you, his words genuine and heartfelt. "I honestly can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal like this. It's delicious—quite the step up from frozen pizza."

Your smile is radiant as you accept his compliment with grace. "Well, honestly," you reply with a light laugh, "I'll be repaying you for a lifetime for finding this ring for me. Come by anytime you're in the neighborhood."

"Funny thing," Joel responds between bites, "I only live a few blocks from here, down on Anderson." This revelation sparks an animated conversation between the two of you—a sharing of stories and dreams that flows as easily as the beer in your bottles. You talk about everything: work and family; friends and interests, and even your favorite bad movies that are so terrible they loop back around to being entertaining again.

After a few hours filled with laughter and learning about each other over drinks the camaraderie between you is palpable as you prepare to introduce Joel to what is perhaps one of the most delightfully awful films ever made—a movie so bad it transcends its own terribleness into something truly special.

"I can't believe you haven't seen it yet! We have to watch it; I'm putting it on right now! It's the best worst movie there ever is or ever will be." Your enthusiasm is infectious; even if Joel has his doubts about such bold claims regarding cinematic quality or lack thereof, he can't help but be drawn into your excitement.

“That's a serious claim, dunno if I believe it." Joel's words carry a playful skepticism as he raises an eyebrow at you, clearly intrigued by your passionate endorsement of the movie.

"Trust me!" You reply with an infectious enthusiasm that lights up your entire face. "You'll never want it to end." Your conviction is unshakeable, and there's a sparkle in your eyes that speaks volumes about the joy you find in sharing this guilty pleasure with someone else.

With a swift, almost eager motion, you spring up from your seat and make your way to the couch, a well-loved blanket clutched in your hands. You turn to look at Joel, patting the spot on the couch next to you with a warm, inviting smile that seems to brighten the entire room.

"I can't in good faith let you leave until you've at least seen this movie," you tell him, your tone half-joking, half-serious. It's a playful challenge, one that Joel readily accepts with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He rises from his chair, crossing the short distance to join you on the couch. As he settles in beside you, the cushions dip under his weight, bringing the two of you closer together. You can't help but smile as you pull the blanket over both of you, a cozy shield against the outside world.

The movie's opening credits roll across the screen, but Joel's attention is divided. He's acutely aware of your presence beside him—the warmth of your body, the soft rhythm of your breathing, and the intoxicating scent of vanilla and coconut that seems to envelop you both. As you snuggle into him, resting your head on his arm, Joel feels a surge of desire tempered by a wave of uncertainty.

His mind races with images of you—bent over, moaning beneath him, your body tightening around him as he imagines himself thrusting deep inside you. The fantasy is so vivid that it takes all his self-control not to act on the impulses that course through him. But then you shift closer to him, nestling into the crook of his arm with a contented sigh that makes his heart skip a beat.

Joel's arm hovers in the air for a moment before he gathers the courage to wrap it around your shoulders. The gesture feels natural yet charged with an electricity that hums just beneath the surface. You respond by snuggling even closer, your arms encircling his torso in a silent embrace that sends shivers down his spine.

This newfound intimacy is both exhilarating and comforting for Joel; it's as if he's found a sanctuary in the warmth of your embrace—a safe haven from the tumultuous desires that wage war within him. His heart rate begins to slow as he holds you gently but firmly against him, savoring the softness of your skin and the trust implicit in this quiet cuddle on the couch.

The thought of kissing you crosses Joel's mind more than once. Your lips look so inviting—soft and sweet like ripe fruit just waiting to be tasted. He imagines what it would be like to close the distance between you two; to feel those lips yield under his own; to explore every single curve and contour with an urgency born from longing and restraint.

But despite this overwhelming temptation, Joel remains cautious—mindful not to scare you away with his crippling desire.

As the movie plays out, Joel's thoughts drift further away from the screen. The plot, the characters, the absurdity of it all—none of it can hold a candle to the vivid fantasies that dance through his mind. The desire that has been simmering beneath the surface since he first walked through your door now threatens to boil over, fueled by every innocent touch and shared laugh under the soft glow of your living room.

His cock twitches with a life of its own, straining against the fabric of his jeans as the images of you flood his senses. He imagines cupping your breasts in his hands, feeling their weight and warmth; tracing the contours of your neck with his tongue before capturing your lips in a searing kiss; teasing your nipples with his teeth until they're as hard as the erection that throbs insistently beneath the blanket.

The need for release is overwhelming, and despite his best efforts to remain still and composed, Joel's arousal is becoming increasingly difficult to conceal. The blanket tented above his groin is a clear indication of his body's betrayal—a beacon signaling his unspoken desire for you.

He holds his breath, praying that you won't shift your hand any lower lest you discover just how much he's struggling to maintain control. But what Joel doesn't realize is that you've already noticed—it would be impossible not to with such an obvious bulge pressing against the fabric that separates skin from skin.

The knowledge that you are aware of his predicament only serves to heighten Joel's arousal. And then, without warning, you move—your hand grazing the top of his thigh before inching higher and higher still until it hovers just below where he needs it most.

Joel gasps as you begin to palm him through the denim barrier. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through him. His moan is soft but audible in the quiet room; a testament to how much he craves your touch—how much he craves you.

As you continue to explore the contours of Joel's body with your touch, he feels a shiver run down his spine, a visceral reaction to the electricity that seems to arc between you two. The desire that has been building within him since he first stepped into your home now threatens to consume him entirely. He aches for you—for the taste of your lips, the softness of your skin, the warmth of your embrace. Every moment in your presence only fans the flames of his longing, and he finds himself teetering on the edge of restraint.

Your hand glides over his thigh, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through him. His cock strains against the confines of his jeans, a testament to how much he wants you—how much he needs you. His breath hitches in his throat as he fights to maintain some semblance of control, but it's a battle he's losing quickly.

You see Joel's eyes flutter shut, a silent admission of how deeply your touch affects him. The evidence of his arousal is plain to see beneath the blanket that does little to hide his desire for you. His grip on reality—and perhaps more importantly, on the couch cushions—tightens as he struggles against the tide of yearning that threatens to sweep him away.

But you have no intention of letting this moment pass by unexplored. With deliberate intent, you move your hand higher still until it grazes the head of his cock through the denim that separates you. The sound that escapes from Joel is part sigh, part plea—a clear indication that his control is hanging by a thread.

In one swift motion, Joel captures your wrist, halting your movements and drawing your attention back to him. His eyes are dark with need as they lock onto yours; there's an unspoken question lingering in their depths—a question that hangs between you both like an invisible thread.

You give Joel a small nod, granting him silent permission to explore his desires. Without missing a beat, he leans in, his lips brushing against the tender skin of your neck. He lingers at your pulse point, his gentle suction sending waves of pleasure through you. His hand finds your thigh, caressing it with an up-and-down motion that makes your legs tremble with anticipation.

A soft whimper escapes you, and you bite down on your bottom lip in an effort to stifle the urge to scream out his name. Joel's fingers trace a path under your dress, moving upward with agonizing slowness. His smile broadens as he feels the warmth of your flesh beneath his fingertips.

He carefully lifts your dress off your body, casting it aside in one fluid motion, leaving you completely exposed and naked before him. Standing up, you take his hand and lead him towards the stairs that ascend to your bed. Joel is taken aback by your assertiveness—it's not what he expected from you—but his surprise quickly gives way to desire. All that matters is that he wants you, needs you. So he follows without question as you guide him upstairs to the intimacy of your bedroom.

You walk backward towards the center of the room, drawing Joel along with you. You gaze into his eyes and see pure desire shining back at you—a look that matches the yearning within yourself. In this moment, there's no room for doubt or hesitation; there's only the two of you.

In the dimly lit room, the air is thick with anticipation, each breath you take laced with the scent of desire. Joel stands before you, his silhouette a study in masculine beauty against the soft glow of the room. With a measured pace, he grasps the hem of his shirt, the fabric straining against the defined muscles of his body. As he lifts it over his head, the light dances across his tanned skin, highlighting the rugged contours of his chest and the salt-and-pepper dusting of his happy trail.

The sight of his broad shoulders and the solid expanse of his chest leaves you momentarily breathless. His physique is a canvas of hard work and dedication, each muscle carved from years of physical exertion. The soft dusting of hair trails down his toned stomach, leading your gaze to the waistband of his pants.

With a swift, almost impatient motion, he frees himself from the last of his clothing. His movements are a symphony of strength and grace, and as his pants slide down his powerful thighs, you catch your first glimpse of his manhood. His cock stands proud and erect, a beacon of his arousal, the skin stretched taut and flushed with the heat of his desire.

The sight of him—unabashedly naked and utterly desirable—sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. His cock is a testament to his masculinity; thick, with a defined shape that beckons your touch. A bead of moisture glistens at the tip, a clear sign of his readiness, and you can't help but imagine the warmth of his skin against your palm, the weight of him in your hand.

Joel's cock is a marvel of male anatomy, the veins tracing intricate patterns along its length, pulsing. It's a sight that is both primal and beautiful, the very essence of his maleness on display just for you. The coarse hair at the base only serves to accentuate its impressive girth, and you find yourself drawn to him, eager to explore every inch of his rugged, manly form.

As Joel hovers over you, his gaze rakes over your body with an intensity that sets your skin ablaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his appreciation evident in the hunger that darkens his eyes.

He takes a moment to explore, his rough palms gently cupping the softness of your curves, his thumbs teasing your hardening nipples. The contrast of his rugged hands against your delicate skin sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and a soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging him to continue his sensual exploration.

You feel the weight of his body as he settles between your thighs. The coarse hair of his happy trail brushes against your sensitive skin. With a reverence that makes your heart flutter, he lowers his head, his lips tracing a path from your navel to the soft curve of your breast, his breath hot against your skin.

As Joel lifts himself, the muscles in his arms and shoulders ripple with the movement, casting enticing shadows across his skin. He leans over you once more, his gaze filled with a mix of adoration and unbridled lust. His lips trail a scorching path down your stomach, each kiss a tender promise that sends shivers of anticipation through you.

You arch your back, your body instinctively responding to his touch. Your breath hitches as he reaches the delicate juncture of your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. He licks and nips at the sensitive skin along your inner thighs, each touch of his mouth stoking the fire within you.

A smirk plays on Joel's lips as he reaches your clit, a knowing glint in his eyes that tells you he's fully aware of the power he holds over you in this moment. With exquisite tenderness, he flicks his tongue over the engorged bundle of nerves, each lick sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your body. You squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

His fingers part your folds, exposing you fully to his ministrations. He thrusts his tongue into you, exploring your depths with a hunger that leaves you gasping for air. His movements are deliberate and skilled—circling, probing, and sucking in just the right way to make your clit twitch erratically with need.

Joel's own excitement is palpable; with each moan that escapes your lips, his cock grows impossibly harder. The sight of him so turned on by pleasuring you only adds to the intensity of the moment.

As he continues to suck and flick his tongue around your glistening cunt , you can't help but voice your pleasure loudly, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. You push yourself further up the mattress, seeking friction against his relentless tongue as you chase the elusive wave of your orgasm.

"I'm gonna come," you pant out between ragged breaths, "please don't stop." Your world narrows down to the feeling of his tongue against your clit—a maddening rhythm.

As the words tumble from your lips, Joel's eyes flash with a primal hunger, and he knows that you're on the brink. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue working with a renewed fervor as he hears the desperation in your voice.

"That's it, such a good girl," Joel growls against your sensitive flesh, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking beautiful.”

Just as you're about to cum Joel pulls away and Joel's dominance takes center stage. He looms over you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there's a wicked glint in them that promises an escalation of pleasure and intensity.

"You like that, don't ya?" he rasps, his voice thick with lust. "Feelin’ my tongue on your wet cunt, makin’ you squirm and beg." He punctuates each word with a roll of his hips, his cock rubbing against your sensitive flesh in a way that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

"Yes," you admit breathlessly, the admission spilling from your lips without hesitation. You're past the point of being coy or reserved.

He grabs your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head as he leans down to whisper in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream my name until all your neighbors know exactly who owns this tight little pussy. "You're mine," he asserts, his voice a possessive rumble in your ear. "This little pussy is mine to fuck, mine to pleasure, mine to own.”

The raw intensity of Joel's words sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His dominance is a potent aphrodisiac, stoking the fire within you to a fever pitch. You're helpless against the onslaught of sensations—the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, the feel of his calloused hands restraining your wrists, the heat of his breath against your ear.

"Say it," he commands, his voice a low growl that resonates with authority. "Tell who this pussy belongs to."

"It's yours," you gasp, the words spilling from your lips in a rush of submission. "All yours, Joel."

A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he releases your wrists, only to grip your hips with both hands. He positions himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. The anticipation is almost unbearable; you can feel every ridge and vein of his impressive girth as he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely breaching your opening.

"Please," you beg, your voice laced with desperation. "I need you inside me."

With a grunt of approval, Joel gives in to your pleas, driving his cock into you with one powerful thrust. The sensation of being filled so completely takes your breath away, a mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you gasping for air. He doesn't give you time to adjust to his size, instead setting a relentless pace that has your body arching off the bed with each forceful stroke.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Your pussy feels like heaven wrapped around my cock baby."

You can't form coherent words anymore; all that escapes your lips are inarticulate cries of pleasure as Joel claims your body with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room, punctuated by your desperate moans and his low, guttural grunts.

As he continues to fuck you with wild abandon, you can feel the familiar tightening in your core, a sign that your orgasm is imminent. Your inner walls flutter around his cock, gripping him tightly as he plunges in and out of your soaked pussy.

As the intensity of your shared passion builds, Joel's gaze locks onto yours, his eyes dark with desire and command. "Look at me," he orders, his voice a low, insistent growl that cuts through the haze of pleasure clouding your senses. "Wanna see you when you come for me."

Your eyes meet his, and in that moment, something profound passes between you. It's as if he's reaching into the very depths of your soul, claiming not just your body but every part of you.

With each powerful thrust, Joel drives you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sight of him above you—his muscles straining with exertion, his skin slick with sweat, and his eyes burning into yours—is more than you can bear. You feel yourself teetering on the brink, a prisoner to the exquisite torment that is building within your core.

"That's it," Joel encourages, his voice ragged with need. "Come on, baby. I gotcha."

As you surrender to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm takes hold, and you can't help but cry out his name. The sound of it reverberates through the room, a testament to the raw, unfiltered pleasure that Joel has coaxed from your very core.

In the midst of your climax, with your body trembling beneath him, Joel's voice breaks through the fog of ecstasy. "So damn beautiful when you come," he murmurs. "Seein’ you like this, feelin’ you tighten ‘round me—it's the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed."

His praise washes over you, amplifying the intensity of your orgasm. The knowledge that he finds you beautiful in this unguarded moment of pleasure adds a new dimension to the experience—a sense of being cherished and admired that goes beyond the physical.

The combination of his words and the relentless rhythm of his hips proves too much for Joel to withstand. With a final, powerful thrust, he reaches his own peak, his body shuddering as he empties himself inside you. His groans of release mingle with your cries of pleasure, creating a symphony of shared ecstasy that fills the room.

Joel's laughter suddenly fills the room, a warm, hearty sound that wraps around you like a comforting blanket. He pulls you close, his arm a secure band around your waist as he tucks you into his side. You can't help but smile, your heart fluttering in your chest as you press your face against the solid wall of his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is a soothing counterpoint to your own rapid pulse and heavy breathing.

The reality of tonight's events still feels surreal to you. Here you are, nestled in the sanctuary of your bed, with a man who has managed to ignite a fire within you that you didn't even know existed. The thought flickers through your mind that this is something transient, something that might not be meant to last. But in this moment, none of that matters. All that matters is the connection between you and Joel—a connection that feels as real and as solid as anything you've ever known.

After several moments of comfortable silence, Joel's voice breaks through the quietude of the room. "That was perfect," he says, his words laced with genuine admiration and wonder. You can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm—it mirrors the joy bubbling up inside of you. Turning in his embrace, you find yourself lost in his deep brown eyes—eyes that seem to see right through to your very soul.

Leaning in, he captures your lips in a kiss that is both tender and passionate—a slow, sweet melding that sends shivers down your spine and makes your lips tingle with delight. You part your lips slightly, granting him deeper access as his tongue sweeps against yours in an intimate dance that leaves you breathless and yearning for more.

His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers gently tangling in the strands as he cradles your head with surprising gentleness for someone with such strong hands. Every touch feels electric—each caress igniting sparks beneath your skin until it seems like there's nothing else but this perfect moment suspended in time.

As the kiss comes to a gentle close, Joel pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of satisfaction and reluctance. His attention shifts momentarily to the alarm clock on your nightstand, its glowing digits announcing the arrival of midnight.

"Fuck," he sighs, the word a soft exhalation against your lips. "As much as I'd love to stay here with you, I really gotta head home and try to get a few hours of sleep.”

You offer him a smile that's both understanding and a little wistful, nodding your head in silent agreement. Leaning in, you initiate one last kiss—a sweet, lingering press of your lips against his.

"Guess it's true what they say," you murmur, your voice soft yet teasing, "heroes never rest. Go on, Mr. Fireman, get some sleep. But do me a favor and text me when you get home. I need to know you made it safely and weren't murdered on the way.”

Joel's chuckle is warm and genuine as he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones in a tender farewell. "I wouldn't dream of leavin’ ya worried," he assures you before capturing your lips in one final kiss.

With a reluctant groan, he extricates himself from the tangle of limbs and bedding, rising from the bed. You watch him dress, the moonlight casting shadows across his toned body, and you can't help but appreciate the sight of him—a man who embodies strength, courage, and unexpected tenderness.

Once he's fully clothed, Joel turns to you one last time, his eyes drinking in the sight of you lying there amidst the rumpled sheets. "I'll see you soon, pretty girl," he says, his voice filled with quiet determination. And then, with a final wave, he's gone—leaving you with the lingering scent of his cologne and the memory of his touch to keep you company through the night.

True to his word, your phone buzzes a short while later, the screen lighting up with a message from Joel

Made it home safe and sound. No murderers lurking in the shadows tonight. Sweet dreams, beautiful. I'll be thinking of you.

[the-kr8tor]

For you Ekko reqs, may I suggest R and Ekko hurt/comfort where Ekko slowly confides with R about what happened at the end of show (like probably a year or 2 of Ekko trying to process everything) and how he sometimes wished he stayed at the alt timeline? 🥲 Just him processing his grief of everything while R comforts him. Mans deserves better

-😅

Ahhhhh writing this made me tear up ngl 🥲 I hope you like it! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, can be read as platonic, cw violence mention, cw injury mention, cw blood and death mention, hurt/comfort.

Navigation

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Ekko?” Your call is carried by the cool autumn wind, breeze fluttering your lashes as you stare at his back. You see him shrink in his seat, face hidden on the crook of his elbow. Walking closer, footsteps clanging against the metal balcony where you always find him on the same day it all happened. “You'll catch a cold up here.”

Piltover shines in front of you, warm light flickering off by the windows as people settle in for the night. But the glimmering fire paper still flies above the city, its light fading as it burns out in the breeze. It's the anniversary of that day, the day Piltover and Zaun saw war right on their doorstep.

Your arm aches, a phantom pain ebbing in and out when your mind goes back to that exact day where the sky was covered in searing smoke, and the streets splashed in warm crimson. Thumb brushing along your scar, it's a mark, a reminder of what was lost that day.

After a minute, Ekko sighs, still unmoving on his spot. “I'm not leaving.”

“I'm not trying to make you leave.” You fetch the blanket that was folded and draped over your shoulder. “I have a blanket for you. If you want it.”

He turns his head slowly over to you, mind playing tricks on him as he sees the flash of you bleeding and yelling for him. Eyes bloodshot, skin clammy and marred with blood. As fast as it came, he blinked and it's gone. Vision returning to the present, the present that wouldn't be possible if not for his sacrifice.

“Don't just gawk at me, bossman,” you smile gently at him, the blanket now unfurled in front of you, ready to drape it over his trembling form. “Do you want it or not?”

The corner of his lip curls up in a small smile, his eyes are tired, weighed down by the world. “Come sit down?”

He has never asked you to join him. You always left him alone up here whenever the anniversary comes around, thinking that's what he needed. But you always waited patiently just outside the door, sitting down on the cold steps while you let grief wash over you like the tides. Until it's time to pick yourself up again at the sound of the door opening. His hand helping you up wordlessly, grief holding the two of you in place, mourning together silently. When morning comes, everything seems to go back in place. The sun still shines, the world still breathes. But it lingers, that grief that has etched itself in your bones, sorrow that lives in his chest, weighing him down but never letting it fester and spread.

You two continue to fight, to improve the very place where blood has been spilled. Carry their memories, their names and their voices until the end. Lest their sacrifices would be in vain. Ekko's sacrifice would be in vain. He deserves better, to not bear the heaviness left in his soul.

“Are you just gonna gawk there or will you take a seat?” He uses your own words against you.

“Can't help it,” you say, heart pounding in your chest as you take a seat right next to him. Giving him enough space, but close enough to see his heavy eyes marred by unshed tears. “You look good under the moonlight.” You joke in an attempt to make him smile.

Ekko manages to chuckle softly, letting you drape the fluffy blanket around his shoulders. Your warm fingers grazing along his cool skin, sending goosebumps on his lean arms.

“Do you find my frown charming?”

You smile kindly, knuckles brushing down his goosebumps. “It’s the tear stained cheeks that gets me everytime.”

He scoffs with a small smile, attention turned towards the Piltover sky. The smell of burnt paper and violets linger in the air, frown deepening at his racing thoughts.

“Will you stay?”

With trepidation, you take his hand in yours, giving him enough time to pull away. He doesn't, instead, he weaves his fingers around yours. His grip is weak, but you can feel how much he needed it by how his eyes stare at your joined hands.

“Of course, whatever you need, Ekko.” You'll stay forever if he asks.

He nods, eyes staying downturned. “I wanted to stay at that place.” Letting out a shaky breath, he closes his eyes, trying to remember what they look like in his mind's eye. Faces that he once thought that he'll never see again. Faces that he had to say goodbye to. “But that would be selfish. I couldn't—” you squeeze his hand. “—I couldn't just leave this place and let it burn.”

The last two years have melded together in your head. All those months of waiting for him at the edge of the hideout, never losing hope, not even when they declared him dead. And then the war came, and you two didn't have the time to reunite, until it ended with you laying half dead on the streets of Piltover. Waking up to him holding your hand in a grip, wishing for you to open your eyes. And you did. A year later, he comes to you, angry and furious, wanting to let it all out. You still remember the day he told you exactly what happened when he disappeared for months like it was yesterday.

He recalls it all like it was a dream, a dream that was destined to be forgotten once he awakes. He didn't want to wake up, not when everything he always dreamed of was there. He gripped onto you tightly that day, held onto you until the sun rose. Nothing was left unsaid, his story left a hole in your heart, wishing that you've seen it for yourself. But you're afraid that you wouldn't be strong enough to leave, as strong as him who made a difficult choice to leave.

He has experienced unthinkable loss, a longing you've never felt. You don't have the exact words to comfort him, to soothe his want, so you move closer to him, fixing where the blanket has fallen and wrapping it over his body like a warm cocoon. You could only hope that it's enough, but you know it will never be enough.

Ekko tucks his head on your shoulder, hand finding its way over to your raised scar. His thumb traces along the skin, feeling your warmth and in turn comforting you. He knows the pain you're in too, he witnessed it, all the nights you've hid away only to come back with red eyes and grief etched on your face.

“I couldn't leave you and Zaun behind.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

Your heart wretches out of your chest. “It wouldn't be selfish.” You say, whispering it into the air around you. “I think— I would've done what you wanted to do. I wouldn't be strong enough to leave, but you did.” He leans away, eyes soft and shining under the moonlight as he meets with your eyes. “You're brave, Ekko. You might not want everyone to know what you had to do to save everyone, but I know. And I'm forever grateful for what you did. For what you have sacrificed so we could live. I'll remember it until I can't, even then, I'll try not to forget.” Cupping his jaw, you watch as a tear slides down. You wipe it away gingerly, smiling at him as he leans against your warmth, eyes closing, shoulders slumping with every word you utter. “You did well, Ekko.”

He moves forward, leaning his forehead against your own, affection radiating off him. “Thank you.”

“We'll be okay. We have time.”

“I know.” He has seen it, one day that dream will come true.

With a tender squeeze, his hand takes the other edge of the blanket, pulling and covering you with its warmth right next to him.

[qingxin-dream]

“Moonlight Showing”

summary | lyney whisks you away after his performance, wanting to make the most of his last night with his secret lover for awhile. (art credits: @/kiyonvmi on twitter).

warnings | profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, exhibitionism/public sex (creampie), a sprinkle of dominance, breeding, honestly fairly vanilla otherwise bc lyney is such a sweetheart, lyney speaks a little french

genre | smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

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Long after the crowd had dispersed from the picturesque Opera Epiclese at the close of Lyney and Lynette’s show, the beautiful gardens lie vacant under the moon’s silvery gaze. All the guests and staff had long taken the aqua-bus back to the Court of Fontaine to return home. There was not a soul in sight at this late hour.

However, even as the city sleeps, Coppelius and Coppelia—a mechanical wonder gifted to the Opera by the Fontaine Research Institute—continue their romantic dance in the courtyard. They never failed to captivate any audience as the reflective metal of the star-crossed lovers glimmered under sun or moon, rain or shine.

Atop the many steps leading down to the outdoor stage is a hand-carved throne of stone hidden behind the cypress trees encircling the scene. From afar perhaps it appears that there are indeed still two people lingering from the night’s magical performance, sitting together to admire the lovely dance.

To any innocent passersby, the sight was undoubtedly endearing and romantic. There’s nothing quite like the rush of young love. It was a good thing no one was here to bear witness; and even better that your lover was so cunning and clever, choosing such a secluded spot to have you in his lap.

Lyney’s gloved hands gripped the curve of your waist firmly, the pads of his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he sinks your hips back down onto his hardened cock with a soft grunt of pleasure. You were forced to hold onto the cool armrests of the throne to keep yourself steady, the unexpectedly cold surface causing your walls to spasm and flutter around him. Groaning lewdly in your ear, Lyney was practically hypnotized by the way the white ring of your essence coated the base of his cock.

Your poor little legs were shaking. You couldn’t count how many times Lyney had made you cum, and yet he was utterly insatiable tonight. The erotic mixture of your fluids lubricated every inch of cock nicely. His smug, seductive laughter was a beautiful soft melody in your ears as the magician teased the tip of his length at your entrance, watching the nuances of your orgasmic expression once more.

With the ends of your sexy little red dress lifted up in his right fist, his other hand smacked your ass loudly. “You wore this on purpose, didn’t you, mon amour?”

A bratty whine rumbled in your throat as he forced you to continue fucking yourself on his throbbing length. You couldn’t possibly muster up a coherent response in your cockdrunk state. Cute little pants adorned the sound of your sex slapping onto his pelvis lightly smeared with your juices.

Lyney yanked you back by the hip to bury his needy cock into you, abruptly pulling the front of your dress down so your breasts spilled out into the open air. He loved feeling the enticing, malleable flesh between his fingers, occasionally pinching your adorable nipples to earn a sweet little moan out of you.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured from behind, taking his thumb under the string of your lacy thong to get an unobstructed view of how your slutty hole gripped and swallowed his cock over and over. Lyney’s voice was deep and honeyed, enough to have you whimpering under your breath in anticipation. “Don’t you cream on my tights now. You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, (Y/N).”

“Mm, mhmm,” you nod obediently, focusing intensely on the sensation of his cock continuously stretching your walls in the most delicious rhythm. You swear he must have memorized the exact spot that drove you wild. “Y-you fuck me… so good…”

“Mon amour, please, you’re doing all the work,” Lyney’s voice resounds lowly into the shell of your ear, smug and soft as velvet. He leans into your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. A seductive giggle warms your shoulder and sends shivers prickling down your spine. “Why don’t you let me work my magic, hm?”

You settle yourself completely onto his pretty cock, resting your back gently against his chest. Lyney continues to encourage you with sweet nothings, distracting you with his words of praise while gloved fingers cup underneath your plush thighs and spread your legs. He gently guides your legs apart to set your calves onto the cool armrests on either side of you.

You hear him draw in a sharp breath as your spongy walls suddenly tighten again. “Are you trying to milk me dry, mon cœur?”

“I’m sorry. C-can’t help it,” you mumble, practically a whimper as this position has your cunt clenching down and damn near feeling every curve and contour as Lyney’s cock angles into you from underneath.

He smirked, presenting the pink petals of your wet flower long decorated in cum to the empty gardens of the Opera Epiclese. Though it was just the two of you and the mechanical dancers below, the mere thought of anyone catching a glimpse of how his thick cock split you open was beyond thrilling to Lyney. Call it a showman’s pride in his performance.

And for Archon’s sake, every little bit of movement had you rolling your head back with a litany of soft-spoken profanities and prayers leaving your lips. Yet you found yourself curious, leaning forward slightly, mesmerized by the way he stuffed you nice and tight.

Lyney chuckled, always one to study and revel in his audience’s wonder, and even more so with his secret lover. He drank you in like fine wine, pupils dilating and swirling with endless pool of desire as you struggled to take him like this.

“Give me your fingers, ma chérie,” he asks, though his tone is surprisingly firm. It wasn’t really a question. You reached around your shoulder to offer him a shaky hand, your breath catching as something hot and wet envelopes your index and middle finger. “Touch yourself.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as Lyney’s warm saliva drips from your digits. Parting your folds, you liberally massaged in circles around your clit, already a bit swollen and puffy from your previous lovemaking sessions on the throne. You curse under your breath between moans, reaching further down to trace your fingers at the bottom of his cock and marvel at the way he disappears inside of you.

The magician groans faintly, the brush of your fingers leaving him extra sensitive as you grind your hips into him. His words come out as a desperate whisper in the night air, a plea only your delicate ears are privy to. “H-hah, fuck, it’s so perfect… ‘n’ made for me.”

Lyney’s hands trail down your sides lovingly, making sure you’re well adjusted to his length in this unique position. In the wake of his fleeting touch, he plants featherlight kisses wherever possible on your spine. He presses a final chaste kiss on your shoulder blade before leaning back, cupping the bottom of your thighs to support you.

“Call my name, mon cœur, that’s all I ask,” he groans, thrusting his cock fully into your dripping hole. You cry out, gasping as his tip reaches the deepest part of you and rubs against every lovely ridge of your walls. Lyney hushes your loud moan, not to deter you but rather to comfort you.

Caressing the innermost parts of your thigh, the magician effortlessly holds you from underneath to help you relax around his cock. He can see your back muscles loosen up, and he whispers to you, “Look up—look at the moon—she’s our spotlight, yeah?”

“Keep your pretty eyes on the heavens. I promise I’ll take you there,” Lyney coos, the timbre of his voice laced with longing. You were hopelessly ensnared in his web of passion and temptation, more than willing to submit to his saccharine words and whims. He smiled, praising you as your eyes drifted up to the full moon. “Je t'aime.”

Just as your reply was on the tip of your tongue, the magician squeezed the bottom of your thighs and finally bucked his hips up ruthlessly into your cunt. Despite how much Lyney prepared you for this position, he still stole your breath away. It was all you could do to meet the intensity of his thrusts. “L-Lyney…! Oh my god, fuck… keep going, p-please…”

Your orgasm was already stirring in the depths of your pelvis with Lyney pounding against your G-spot repeatedly without fail. His grip on the flesh of your hips became possessive, a low growl following his rapid thrusts. “Did I say to stop touching yourself? I want you a fucking mess on my cock.”

Apologies weren’t what he wanted. This was the final act of the night before you were to be separated for Archons knows how long. Lyney wasn’t about to waste this precious time without giving you the moon, the stars, and the whole damn universe—rocketing you to your climax after you fingers messily flitted across your clit.

“Lyney! I’m cumming, a-ah!” you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy and amazement, your legs quaking and threatening to collapse onto him. Waves upon waves of pleasure wash over you. You couldn’t believe how he relentlessly fucked your release into your sopping pussy, utterly blissed out and wishing for his seed like a whore.

Coaching you through your strongest orgasm yet, he exhales heavily and clutches you tightly, “That’s it, that’s it. Yeah… Sing for me, mon amour. You feel so, so good.”

Just as your climax reached its crescendo, Lyney’s cock twitched inside you and dribbled cum out of your abused hole when he pulled out. His fingers were buried into your skin, certainly enough to leave a bruise on your hips in the morning. Even though the magician was exhausted after the night’s worth of lovemaking, he spun you around and captured your lips softly—wanting to taste your post-orgasmic pants for air.

“It’s a shame,” Lyney chuckled warmly into your mouth, seemingly unable to detach himself from your decadent lips. “I really liked this dress on you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

[little-jana]

"A Little Bit of Mischief" (1)

Part 2

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x receptionist!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: playful teasing, flirting

Words: 1.4k

Summary: You flirt with the ever-serious Aaron Hotchner, teasing him until he finally drops his professional demeanor.

You're in a good mood, as usual. It's a Wednesday afternoon, the sun is shining through the office windows, and there's something about the quiet hum of the BAU that feels comforting. Even though you’ve just finished up a case, there’s always work to be done—papers to file, appointments to set up, that kind of thing. But you don’t mind. You love staying busy, and you love the people you work with.

But more than anything, you love teasing Aaron Hotchner.

It’s not that you go out of your way to make him uncomfortable. Well, maybe a little. He’s just so serious all the time, and you can’t help yourself. It’s like a game to you—seeing how far you can push him before he cracks. And honestly, he’s always so professional, so controlled, that you never expect him to respond in any way other than with the quiet politeness he reserves for everyone.

At least, that’s what you think.

“Hotch, do you need me to book you a meeting with the director?” you ask, leaning on his desk with a sweet smile plastered across your face. You know your voice comes out bubbly—it always does when you’re around him—but you don’t mind. You have a tendency to be a little more playful when he’s near.

He glances up from his paperwork, his brown eyes narrowing slightly as he looks you over. He always does that, and it makes your stomach do a little flip. It’s as if he’s trying to figure you out, analyzing you the same way he does with cases. It’s both flattering and endearing, and it makes your heart beat a little faster.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” he replies, but his voice is a little more distant than usual. It’s his way of staying professional, but you notice how his lips twitch—just barely, as if he’s holding back a smile.

“So,” you start again, leaning closer to his desk just a little, “I was thinking we could go grab coffee after work. You know, just the two of us. I promise not to steal your files this time.”

His eyes flick up at you again, a brief glimmer of something unreadable in them before he returns to his work. He doesn’t seem to be taking you seriously, as usual. But you’re not giving up that easily.

“You know, I don’t understand why you’re always so serious,” you continue, your voice soft and teasing as you try to get him to react. “You’re like... a walking, talking textbook of boring.”

The words slip out before you can stop yourself, but you’re not worried. You’ve said worse to him before. And every time, he’s given you that same exasperated but slightly amused look—like he’s trying to act unaffected, but the small twitch of his lips always gives him away.

His expression softens, though, and you see him letting his guard down just a little. “I’m serious about the job,” he says with a small smirk. But you can tell he’s holding back the full force of his smile.

“Well, you’re lucky I don’t mind serious men,” you say, leaning in a little closer, your voice softer. “You’re still pretty cute, even if you’re all about ‘business’ all the time.”

You see the immediate flash of something in his eyes then, something like surprise mixed with hesitation. You almost think he’s going to respond with a typical Hotch answer—something neutral, something that would keep you firmly in the “professional” zone. But instead, he looks at you for a long moment, his gaze searching your face as if trying to decipher your intentions.

“How’s your day been?” he asks suddenly, his voice quieter than usual, as though the question itself signals a subtle shift in the conversation.

You smile brightly. “Oh, you know, the usual. I’ve been keeping myself busy with all the paperwork—making sure you don’t get buried under it all.” You shrug, glancing down at your own stack of work. “But it’s been fun. I like helping out. Plus, I get to see all of you guys every day.”

Hotch’s gaze softens again, and for the first time, there’s a touch of warmth in his eyes that you’re not used to. “I appreciate it,” he says quietly. “You’re a big help around here.”

His words aren’t anything extraordinary, but they make your heart flutter in a way you didn’t expect. You hadn’t thought he’d notice how much you enjoyed being around, how much you appreciated the little things he did, like staying late to make sure everything was wrapped up, or the way he always double-checks the details.

“You know, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease, the flirtatious energy flowing through your words without meaning to. “You should let me take you out for dinner sometime, Hotch. I think you could use a break from all the work.”

You’re not expecting him to say yes. After all, Hotch isn’t the kind of guy who jumps into social outings easily. But you can’t help yourself; you have to ask.

He glances at you again, his gaze softening even further, and this time, his lips do curl into a faint smile. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Maybe,” he says, and you almost think you see a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

That’s enough for you. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen that kind of warmth from him, the first time he didn’t immediately deflect your teasing.

“You’re adorable when you smile like that,” you say before you can stop yourself, your voice softer, more sincere than you intended. The words are out before you can take them back, and your face immediately flushes with embarrassment.

But instead of retreating, Hotch’s gaze softens even more, and he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sits there, watching you. And it’s in that moment that you realize—you’ve been teasing him for so long, but maybe there’s more there than you thought. Maybe, just maybe, he likes you too.

“Maybe dinner would be a good idea,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper now.

You beam, your heart racing. “I’ll hold you to that,” you reply, and this time, your flirtation is more playful than anything. “But don’t make me wait too long, okay?”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and genuine. And for once, you realize that maybe this game you’ve been playing isn’t just a game. Maybe there’s something more to it after all.

Part 2

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 , hsr men !

side comments: i love old jazzy tunes or old songs in general. i usually don't do this kind of fic but i wanted to try something new.

extra: gn reader, fluff, all hsr men except yanqing & misha word count: 434

Other arms reach out to me Other eyes smile tenderly Still in peaceful dreams I see The road leads back to you. 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 / Ray Charles

Despite age the two of you bustle about; committing your duties be it work or another passion. Perhaps either of you transverse the cosmos. However, when Twilight's wings gingerly take you under its folds, the two of you melt into one like candle wax dripping down its holder. No matter what path each of you treads- you are bound no matter the state. Thus, under the duvet covers and the unspoken lullabies of the night, he presses kisses on your wrinkled eyes like gemstones while slowly caressing your furrowed hand with a gentleness only matched by the lightness of a feather and the warmth of a beating heart. It is instinctive like blinking, like drawing air into the lungs. Rest now in silence for neither of you needed to say a word, another day will come and nights of blossoming devotion will echo into eternity.

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑 . Dan Heng . 𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎 . 𝐋𝐔𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀 . Gepard . 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍 . 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 . Blade . 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 . + any of your favourites

Just one look at you My heart grew tipsy in me You and you alone Bring out the Gypsy in me I love all the many charms about you Above all, I want my arms about you 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 / Judy Garland

Your limbs might not take you far now, but he'll twirl you in the air like a star and tease you until your cheeks ache from laughter. The glimmer and shine of that first date still trails behind the two of you: stardust in the wind, wings that seldom break. You two still share that hidden kiss in public and search for treasures amongst a sea of rust. Giddy and unfettered, the two of you are like birds spinning in the air; chasing each other in fits of uncontrolled laughter. Blush still brushing against your sagging cheeks and the tipsyness of a night still young, his own heart enthralled as the first time he met you. The throng can stare if they want; asking why not sit down? Would you like some help? That's fine, he'll still banter and pursue adoration as if it's not already tucked in his arms. Because despite his gradually wilting eyes and worn-out knees, he'll still bow down and press his head against your stomach, whispering, "mine."

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 . Argenti . 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍 . 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐎 . 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐀 . Gallager . 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 . + any of your favourites

At last My love has come along My lonely days are over And life is like a song 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 / Etta James

The two of you have mellowed over the years, lost some hair and found comfort in blue skies, the pit pat of rain and sand between your toes. Perhaps the two of you find a house in the countryside or build a home on a distant planet found in cup boards and the warmth of an oven. Perhaps you settle under the blanket of the universe; allowing your eyes to trace the sun inching down the walls of your shared home. The two of you spend your days lying languidly on the couch, days drifting into melodies spent well and arms entangled as one. He never would've thought that his heart could slow and his soul mellow like a distant breeze. His eyes drifted towards your figure, a pleasant smile reaching his lips.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 . Welt . Gepard . 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 . Dr. Ratio . 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 . 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆 . Jing Yuan . Luocha . + any of your favourites

masterlist.

[lvzrii4]

꩜ .ᐟ waves 박성훈

— ✮⋆˙ nonidol!sunghoon x reader ✮⋆˙ fluff ✮⋆˙ 0.8k wc ✮⋆˙ grammar errors

wherein its your anniversary with sunghoon, and he takes you on a special date to the beach.

the sun was shining brightly as you leaned against the car window, letting the breeze caress your face. the warm rays kissed your skin, making you close your eyes in contentment. the hum of the car engine and the fresh scent of the ocean in the distance added to the tranquil atmosphere.

beside you, sunghoon drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your lap. every so often, he glanced at you, his lips tugging into a soft smile as if seeing you like this made his whole day brighter.

“we’re almost there,” he said casually, but the glimmer in his eyes gave away his excitement.

you opened your eyes, and as soon as you spotted the sparkling blue of the ocean ahead, you gasped softly. “the beach?” you asked, turning to him with wide, excited eyes.

he grinned, dimple showing. “you caught me. thought I’d surprise you for our anniversary.”

you couldn’t hold back your excitement any longer. the moment the car stopped, you kicked off your sandals and ran toward the beach, the sand cool and soft beneath your feet. the salty breeze filled your lungs as you twirled around, arms stretched out, feeling free and alive.

when you turned around, sunghoon was still by the car, leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets. he looked effortlessly handsome in his casual white button-up and rolled-up sleeves, the sea breeze ruffling his hair.

he was watching you, his gaze soft but intense, like he was memorizing the way you looked in that moment.

“c’mon, hoon! what are you waiting for? enjoy the breeze with me,” you called out, waving him over.

he smirked, finally pushing himself off the car and walking toward you with that effortless grace he always had. when he reached you, he didn’t say a word; instead, he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around as your laughter echoed through the air.

“put me down!” you squealed, but your smile betrayed your protest.

he raised a brow, the corner of his lips curling mischievously. “hmm… no, i think i like holding you like this.”

“sunghoon,” you said in warning, but the glint in his eyes told you he had no intention of listening.

before you could say another word, he started walking toward the water. “hoon, no! don’t you dare!” you shrieked, wriggling in his arms.

“don’t what? i’m just taking you for a little swim,” he teased, stepping into the cool waves.

“hoon, i swear—”

and then it happened. both of you toppled into the water with a splash, the coldness making you gasp. when you surfaced, you saw sunghoon laughing, his smile as bright as the sun reflecting off the waves.

“you’re so dead, park sunghoon!” you yelled, splashing him with water.

he gasped dramatically, pretending to be offended. “oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?”

with that, a playful water fight broke out. your laughter mixed with his as the two of you splashed and dodged each other, completely carefree. it was moments like this—where the world faded, and it was just the two of you—that you cherished most.

by the time the sun began to set, the beach was painted in hues of gold and pink. you sat together on a large picnic blanket spread across the sand, wrapped in a soft, oversized throw to keep the cool evening breeze at bay.

sunghoon had set up a small wooden tray filled with your favorite snacks and drinks, the thoughtful gesture making your heart melt.

you leaned back on your hands, watching the waves gently roll onto the shore. the fading sunlight bathed everything in a warm glow, including sunghoon, who sat beside you with his arm resting casually behind you.

you caught him staring at you, his expression soft and full of something unspoken. “what?” you asked, feeling shy under his gaze.

“you’re just…” he paused, his voice lowering. “so beautiful.”

your cheeks warmed, and you quickly looked away, hugging your knees to your chest. “stop it,” you mumbled, but the smile on your lips gave you away.

he chuckled, scooting closer until you felt his warmth against your side. gently, he tugged you toward him, letting your head rest on his shoulder. you could feel his steady heartbeat as the two of you watched the sun dip below the horizon.

“happy anniversary, love,” he murmured, his voice tender. “to more moments like this. just us.”

you glanced up at him, your heart swelling with affection. leaning up, you pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, earning a smile from him. “happy anniversary, hoon. i wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

he turned his head slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. his thumb lingered on your cheek for a moment before he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “neither would i.”

as the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you stayed wrapped up in each other, surrounded by the soothing sound of waves and the comfort of knowing you were right where you belonged—with him.

© lvzrii4 — do not copy, translate, and repost my work.

[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) the world can't be wrong if you're in it

𝜗𝜚 ITOSHI RIN: SCARLET GERANIUM.

a/n: [fem!reader] fuyumi's is your daughter!!!!(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) I HOPE YALL LUV THE DOMESTIC SCENARIOS (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)... huhu!!!!! for you, @yolkochan ( ꈍ◡ꈍ)♡!

WHEN YOUR DAUGHTER TURNS 2 MONTHS OLD. itoshi rin makes the teeny tiny effort to wake up the slightest earlier than you to take your daughter out the swaddle. but first, your husband uncharacteristically presses two soft kisses to your temple and strokes the stray hairs away from your face before padding over to fuyumi’s room. rin takes his time to let the baby scent seep into his skin, truly imprinting your daughter’s love into his soul. he gently picks her up, hearing her small baby shuffles upon unleashing her from her soft confines, he rests baby fuyumi on his chest. gently cradling her in his arms, he looks up with a glimmer in his eyes as he finds you leaning against the doorframe with a smile.

WHEN YOUR DAUGHTER TURNS 8 MONTHS OLD. the rare occasion your daughter is crying, he puts his fingertips on her little mouth and repeatedly takes his hands on and off. it works like a charm every time! sometimes you ponder what sorcery he’s using… shes kinda making that 'wawawa' kinda sound ! you know whatta’ mean? (￣^￣)ゞ once she cools down, your husband hands ‘yumi to you and she instantly falls tired under her mother’s touch. you stroke her head with a chuckle, bouncing her gently. rin peers over your shoulder and he notices the little excess tears still glued to the corner of ‘yumi’s eyes, making him duck down slightly to peck them away.

WHEN YOUR DAUGHTER TURNS ONE. rin loves to poke his tongue out at baby ‘yumi… fuyumi (and him) have the most fun playing together when he spends cozy down time at home, tucked in the corner of the couch with his knees up and his daughter nestled close in his lap. rin stares into her little tender eyes earnestly. then, your husband sticks his tongue out slightly, waiting for her to copy. once she does rin cracks a small and rare smile before instantly rubbing his nose against hers, making little ‘yumi giggle (*´∇｀*). you walk in on this priceless view that a vacation could never buy, fondly smiling when allured by their warmth to sit down next to them. you sit right up against rin, resting your head on his shoulder. he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world, and neither would you.

maybe mondays aren't that bad. you think to yourself, when you wake up next your two favourite people. the sunlight seeps through the curtains, the highlight of shine simmering on your skin. rubbing the drowsiness from your eyes, youre greeted with your baby girl sitting up with a gummy smile and a drop of drool leaking at the corner of her mouth. what makes you quietly chuckle, however, is her thin, deep emerald hair that glows jade in the sun which resembles her father appears cutely dishiveled. you stroke her hair, then moving down to caress then pinch her chubby cheek. she then taps her your husband's cheek instead, like shes trying to wake him up. rin begins to stir at the cold contact of fuyumi's hand, groaning as sleepiness washes over his body. your baby let out a squeal of delight, waving her hand almost triumphantly at the sight of her dad waking up.

he smiles, tenderness filling his eyes.

and so do you.

[jackiepackiee]

Telemachus x Apollo Blessed! Reader

Chapter Two

Masterlist

Prince Telemachus who is favored by Athena with a reader who's favored by Apollo. Both under the guidance of the god and goddess of wisdom and knowledge respectively. One a fierce warrior and the other a lovely musician. Yet complete opposites of their role when it comes to a peaceful artist and intimidating opponent.

An- before you go please consider following my insta @/jackiepackiearts, enjoy!

“Again!” Athena’s voice roared over the training hall, arms crossed over her chest as her head gestured to the striking post.

It was adorned with scars of young and old. First built by Odysseus, Telemachus had found this training room when he was younger and first desperate to follow his father and be a hero.

Now aged, the wood was splintered in some sections that were easily torn by the sword.

But today? Not a single scar on the rough wood was being made. Not while Telemachus was swinging his weapon with less drive than a lamb trying to walk.

Nevertheless, he listened to his patron goddess and swung at the tall target.

Yet again… not even a chip of wood.

“Athena, I ca-” He began to protest, letting the metal tip of the blade rest on the floor.

Before he could continue, he was cut off by a sigh and strong words.

“No, you can. First part of fighting is knowing you can, or you’re sure to lose if you decide to lose.” She lectured, taking the sword from him and striking the target herself. Splinters of wood coming clean off, flying to the wall away from their abuse.

“Do you think a winner is okay with losing? No.” Continuing, she walked around the hall while putting the sword back on its stand. When she turned around from her fit, all she saw was Telemachus staring at a painted tile wall of his family.

Athena knows that image. One of Odysseus looking at his wife and son with so much love in his eyes one would think Penelope and Telemachus had hung the stars in the sky and saved Odysseus’ life time and time again.

Her reprimanding died down, unable to be harsh to the boy that stood before her. Instead she joined him, by his side while he stared at the colors on the wall that somehow formed his family. A family he didn’t know, with a love he never knew existed.

“Athena?” He asked, voice hesitant in his question.

“No, I don’t know if he’s coming back.” She spoke, sighing at the image.

“That’s not what I was asking.” He murmured. “I mean well… you’re a goddess and all. So, does love like that truly exist?”

His starry eyes stared at the beauty painting, glimmering tiles from the sun shine.

Before he could speak more of love, she formed a fist and lightly knocked his head.

“Don’t lose your sense, this is battle. You can focus on those types of issues when you can defend yourself.” She stood in front of him. Blocking his view of the painting.

He rubbed his head, squinting at her in slight annoyance.

“I’m getting there… jeez.” His hand traveled to rest on the back of his neck as he looked up at her. Almost pouting from her words.

“Back to training.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Even after his conversation with Athena, he didn’t feel at ease. She wasn’t aware of the restless nights he spent thinking of “love,” and whatever it may entail.

Times like this having a patron god who felt romantic love would be helpful…

He stood in his bedroom, looking out the window as the cool air blew in. Arms resting on the windowsill as he let his head stick out into the darkness. Moon shining onto his gold brackets he had yet to take off.

Looking to the ocean that danced in high tide, he sighed out all the air in his body. A breath he didn’t quite remember holding.

But before he could get too deep into his moping, he heard a knock.

“Come in.” He called, turning to face the guest.

Queen Penelope entered, smiling at her son as she quietly placed a piece of parchment on his desk.

“I brought you some new writing materials.” She smiled again, directly at him, before her eyes fully opened to get a look at him.

When she saw her son with slumped shoulders, tired eyes, and a far away gaze she pulled closer.

“Is something the matter?” Questioning him, she joined her hands together in front of her as she looked over him for any visible injuries.

“No mom… I’m okay.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes correctly and his lips fell flat.

“Was it the suitors?” Her brows pushed downward, grabbing his chin and rotating his face as she inspected for any cuts.

“No, no.” Taking a deep breath, he gently grasped her hand in his and let it down softly at her side.

“Mom… how did you know you loved dad?” Soft eyes met hers, and they looked just like his fathers. Yet more vulnerable, all the same wanting an answer. He must’ve taken his curiosity after his dad, neither ever satisfied without an answer.

“I just knew. And you’ll know too when you find the right person.” She smiled tiredly, a melancholy expression in her son's distress.

“How can you be sure? What if she doesn’t show up?” He questioned, eyes almost puppyish in their desire for help.

“You’ll find her, dear. She’ll be perfect for you, and that’s all that matters.” Her finger extends and pressed against his chest over to where his heart lived. “Do not try to find a future queen or the most beautiful girl, find the one you love.”

She smiled at him with tired eyes. Voided as she spoke of love. All she could hope was her son would find the love she once knew years ago.

“But you and dad are perfect together from what I’ve heard! How can I live up to that… to him?” His gentle eyes traveled upward to meet his mothers, squinting with nothing but desire for an answer.

Who would ever have an answer for something as abstract as love?

“You mustn’t try to live up to anything.” She took his head into her hands, curly hair brushed by her nails. “You’ll know. In here,” she pointed at his head, “and here.” And again pointed at his chest.

She pulled him into her chest as she sat on the edge of his bed. He rested into his mother, visibly relaxing at her comfort.

“It’s late, go to bed now.” She hummed, and he left the night behind as his eyes closed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The queen walked down the corridor, in an area that was separated from the suitors.

It was a sort of sanctuary for servants and family, always peacefully quiet with none of that buzz from the drunk crowd.

So to hear a soft hum was surprising. Not that she would complain. Even the simple, untrained voice of a young woman kept the song utterly beautiful.

It was soft, and sounded like love of past passions.

“Gods, what is that?” Penelope muttered to herself, not able to recognize the song that sounded of love.

Before the maid could pass her fully, she turned and faced the young woman to get her answer. Inhaling, she spoke gently.

“Excuse me, what was that you were just humming?” She inquired, racking her brain for all the music she knew. Still, nothing came to mind.

The maid looked at Penelope before bowing and keeping her head low. “Just a song from the market, miss.” Biting her inner cheek, she looked back up after she gave her answer.

When she saw the queen's brows furrowed she continued.

“I'm not sure what the name of the song is. But this girl was playing it for all the children in the market, it was just lovely.” She was smiling to herself at the memory, even the thought of the song made the maids face light up.

She continued, “My queen, you would have adored it. The maiden even defended the children from a bitter man.” After realizing her rant, she piped down and went back to her state of polite shyness.

“So it’s a new song?” She questioned further, confused. How could one song sound so familiar… unless the notes aligned so well it felt nostalgic of emotions in the past.

“That’s correct, I believe.” Nodding, she looked back up to give as much information as possible.

“And maiden, you say?” Taking a step closer, her hand reached to rest of the shoulder of the maid.

“Yes, miss.”

“Walk with me, and tell me about this maiden.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a few days since his talk with his mother, but Telemachus couldn’t help the thoughts that pooled in his mind.

It seemed no conversation was helping to ease his thoughts, plagued with anxiety about this concept he didn’t fully understand.

Was he too young to be married? Did he have to get married right away?

Whoever in the Gods would give him this “perfect girl” that his mother mentioned.

It was morning, and he had the habit of eating before everyone else. Meeting the servants in the kitchen as they prepared a gluttonous feast for the bastards in the main hall.

The sun had yet to rise as he bit into an apple, peeling at its red skin while he stared into space.

He couldn’t get his last two talks off his mind. I mean, they were from two totally different people?

One, never in love and the other absolutely enamored. It wasn’t likely either related to him…

“My prince? The sun is rising, I suggest you head back to your study before the day's work begins.” The head maid spoke, folding table clothes as she calmly instructed him.

“I didn’t realize the time.” He stood up, leaving the rest of his apple to his pet dog before he left the room. “Thank you!” He called before fully exiting.

The suitors weren’t awake yet, at least not the majority. So he traveled back to the part of the palace in which only he, his mother, and invited guests would stay.

As he turned one of the pillars is when he saw something.

No, he saw someone.

Pausing, he quickly went back behind the pillar to watch.

It was a girl, around his age. Speaking politely with one of the queen’s handmaids, holding a beautiful golden lyre under her right arm.

The sun was shining onto her from the window, making her skin look soft and hair glow in the spots the sun hit hardest. It was gently kissing her face, making each expression all the more beautiful.

It was as if the sun itself had risen just to meet your body and illuminate you for lucky eyes to see.

He was undone.

And you, you stood there with the lyre talking to the handmaiden. Unaware of the cute boy blushing in the next hall.

Taglist - @dog-and-cat-person230 @m-carriaga2021 @blessedbyahuntress @cleawritesstuff @b4ts1e @permanently-nothere @kaguraaaa @rockyeatrock @keikeiluvyou @hijinkxy @doodle-with-rhy @barrythestrawberry041 @dazedemery

[help-i-lost-my-sock]

Electric Blue (Sanji x Reader)

Word count: 8,200

Tags: NSFW, 3rd POV, past tense

Established relationship, romantic sex, lingerie, oral (f & m receiving).

Summary: Sanji’s lady decides to spoil him, but Sanji is a giver himself.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

It was no secret that Sanji loved the finer things in life - whether they be fine women, fine cuisine, or fine couture. So what finer way than for the woman of his dreams to spoil him than to bring those things together? 

First was a five course menu served with all his friends. 

Then, a couple glasses of the finest red they had in stock, sipped at a small table on deck, with just the two of them under the bright moonlight and the myriad of stars that freckled the night sky. 

When the chilly breeze overpowered the warmth of the wine, it was time to head in. Sanji, ever the gentleman, slipped his suit jacket off and gently draped it over her shoulders, before leading her to the door. How she adored him. He’d open the doors along the way for her, and hold her hand as she walked down the stairs. Every time he looked her way she could see the love in his eyes. There was a certain glimmer in his eyes that often made his expression border on awe. That night was no different, as Sanji watched her every move, and hung on every word that left her beautiful painted lips with such ardent love and fascination that one might have wondered whether she might just be his All Blue. 

And there they were - at their bedroom door. Sanji’s hand reached for the doorknob and let the door fall open before her. Those beautiful red lips smiled at him as she entered the room, with him in tow. 

Her hands still clung to the jacket on her shoulders. It was so warm, and smelt like him - a mix of cologne, and cigarette smoke. His scent always made her feel so comfortable and safe - she practically radiated joy whenever he was around. 

Closing the door behind them, he turned towards her. “May I take your coat, ma’am?” he asked with a soft smile. 

His love turned her back towards him, and tucked her flowing hair out of the way. Sanji gently lifted the jacket off her shoulders and neatly placed it on a hanger that hung off a hook on the wall. 

Meanwhile, she went to sit down at their desk. She carefully undid her earrings, placing them in a small jewelery box he had gifted her on their 10th date. She read the inscription above the little mirror in the box - ‘No jewel can shine as bright as you’. The words never failed to bring a tender smile to her lips. Sanji was far more precious than any jewel under the sun. 

Having finished hanging the coat, Sanji turned to find her hands were just reaching for the clasp of her necklace. In an instant, he traversed the small space between them. Standing just behind her, his large, warm hands gently grabbed hold of hers. 

“Allow me, m’lady” he said, his tone warm and loving.

His nimble fingers made quick work of the dainty clasp, and he carefully removed the thin and fragile necklace from her neck. 

“Thank you,” she said softly as she turned around to face him. 

“It’s only natural,” he said as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. 

His lips were warm and soft against her cold skin. His eyes lifted to meet hers, concern written over his face. 

“My love, you are freezing. Let’s get you in bed before you catch a cold.” 

“Yeah, let’s,” she murmured softly, a subtle smile on her face. 

Sanji gently tugged her up by the hand, and she slowly rose to her feet. Upright, she took a step forward, pushing her chest against her partner. The angle gave Sanji a great view into her decollete, now pressed flush against him. 

Her head tilted, as she looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and a small, sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her index finger rubbed against the stubble on his chin as she spoke. 

“I think I might need some help,” she said, trailing off. Her hands found his, and gently placed them on her sides, before pushing them as far up along her back as she could, towards her dress’ zipper. 

Sanji’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed the look in her eyes as she moved his hands over her body. He wasn’t quite sure what he’s ever done to deserve a woman like her, but he certainly felt blessed. 

He couldn’t help but trail his hands up and down over her form a couple of times. There was a choked gasp when he realised how unusual and intricate the sensation beneath her dress was. Had she been wearing it this whole time? The thought made him swallow dryly. 

A sly smirk tugged at her lips as she saw the realisation dawn on his face. She tucked her hair out the way once more, making sure there’s none left near the zipper. 

“Could you help me… out of this dress?” Her voice feigns innocence, but the look on her face betrays her intention. 

She could feel Sanji’s hands travel up to undo her zipper. He was slow, and gentle, as usual. He took his time, savouring the sight of the soft material falling apart to reveal the beauty beneath. She can feel his breath growing ragged as it hits her skin. 

The zipper was down, her dress now held up merely by the pressure between them, and their eyes met once more. 

She took a small step back, allowing gravity to do its work. The fabric hit the ground with a light thump, revealing her final surprise of the night, and leaving Sanji’s jaw hanging. 

Sanji’s eyes travelled down her body. Her heavenly bosom plumped up in a lace push up bra of bright, electric blue. Between her breasts, shone a small, pale blue jewel. Underneath, the bra was linked by short, thin straps to a somewhat broad, elastic band that hugged her ribs. 

The garterbelt too had such a band at the top - plain and simple - before it gave way to intricate patterns of soft lace and silky bows, as they hugged his woman’s hips. 

Matching blue lace panties peaked from underneath the lace and ribbons. 

Thin straps trailed from the high waist band of her garter, down the lace, and finally down her legs, where they clasped around the tops of her hold ups. 

Her supple legs, too, bore the same broad, blue bands around her thighs. Flowing from the bands, the top of her stockings was detailed with small, but intricate floral design, similar to those on her other garments. The lace offered a small glimpse at her skin in between the fragile lacy petals, before the stocking turned skin-coloured and smooth, and disappeared into her high heels. 

She smiled slyly as she watched Sanji take in the various intricacies of her latest purchase. A drop of blood peeked from Sanji’s nose - a job done well, it seemed. 

Sanji admired her in breathless awe - the woman he loved and who loved him back, her soft touch, her honeyed voice as she calls his name, her perfectly beautiful curves, framed so tantalisingly by the killer set she went through the trouble of putting on just for him. Sanji tried to string words together to express his admiration, but it was futile. And unnecessary… For she could read on his awestruck face just how much he liked what he was seeing, and she could tell by the glint in his eyes, and the way he wet his lips just what kind of thoughts were running through his mind that moment. 

“Sanji,” she repeated softly; this time breaking him out of his trance. 

Sanji shook his head gently trying to regain his composure. “You look ravishing, my love,” he breathed against her knuckles as he kissed them softly. 

She smiled at his words. His lips on her knuckles sent a small shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t help but remember what those soft, skillful lips of his felt like on other parts of her body. 

“You can touch me… not just look, my love,” she says softly, as her hands caress his hand, running idly through his silky blonde locks. 

Sanji never meant to seem crass, nor did he ever want to rush her, and so he always tried his best to restrain himself. But when her voice sang such an invitation in his ear, who was he to turn it down? 

Sanji took her hands in his, and gently tugged them to the side. His soft lips pressed against her shoulder, and worked their way up her neck with a trail of hot kisses. He pecked her earlobe, before gently taking it between his teeth and sucking on it. 

She sighed softly at the feeling, loving the way Sanji always found a way to be both gentle with her, yet still a little rough. 

“Do you have any idea what your beauty does to a man, my love?” he purred in her ear. 

She merely gave a low chuckle, as she tilted her head back further, allowing him better access to her throat. 

Sanji’s lips trailed down her neck once more, and settled on her collarbone. His lips kissed her soft skin. His teeth nipped here and there. He sucked on her neck, just the way he knew she liked it. Then his tongue would lick the marks to ease the sting. 

She tugged at his grip on her wrists - wanting to touch him, to feel him under her fingertips, to pull his head up to her lips - and Sanji relented; instead, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

His lips trailed lower, down her chest. They found her breasts - so plump and full - so teasingly displayed in that little bra. He nestled his face between them, feeling their softness against his cheeks. Her fingers daintily brushed through his hair, and caressed his head. 

His hands traced the outlines of her lingerie along her back - every band, every strap, every ribbon, every frill. He drew in a deep breath. He swore her scent could get him high. 

“Do you have any idea what your love does to me, ma cherie?” he asked, his voice now a little deeper. 

Her hand tugged gently on his locks. She wanted him to meet her gaze. 

“Why don’t you show me?” she asked him with a smile. 

It took but a moment for Sanji to dive in and capture her lips. His hand cupped her face gently, while her hands found their way to his strong shoulders and his chest. His tongue slipped quickly into her mouth, and he could feel her smile into the kiss, as he began to lose himself in her scent and the taste of her lipstick. Their tongues danced together, growing ever hungrier for each other’s taste. His hands roamed freely over her body - caressing her waist, her hips, her ass - rubbing over skin and fabrics alike. 

Snap! His fingers hooked into the strap of her bra and snapped it lightly. When he felt her moan into his mouth, he knew what she was in the mood for that night. Snap! He snapped the waistband of her garter. Snap! There went the straps holding her stocking. 

Every pleased little moan earned her a harder snap. And every harder snap, earned him a deeper moan from her pretty throat. 

Hearing her needy sounds for him only fueled his need for her. His lips left hers - now smeared with red - and dove between her breasts, placing desperate kisses all over her exposed skin. 

One of her hands found her way on his back, and grasped at his shoulder. The other, meanwhile, tangled in his soft locks once more. 

His large, skilled hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them, before pushing them closer together as if wishing to suffocate in her softness, her warmth, her essence. His thumbs brushed over her clothed nipples. Though he could not feel them through the padding, the way she sighed and sucked her lip told him where to be. 

Sanji’s hands slipped the straps off her smooth shoulders. His hot lips placed kisses all over her chest. His hands reached up and around her, where his nimble fingers made short work of the hooks on her straps. In a matter of seconds, the bra was tossed to the floor. Released from their constraints, her breasts now captured Sanji’s every attention. His mouth was quick to latch on to her hardened right bud - licking, kissing, and nipping as he went. His other hand, meanwhile, continued to squeeze her left breast, until it was time to switch sides. His eager mouth wasted no time in giving her left breast the same treatment he had just given to her right. 

With one hand squeezing her chest, his other hand now made its way down, trailing over the intricacies of her outfit, and giving her plump ass a good squeeze. Her skin was starting to grow warmer under his ministrations. Her breath picked up, punctuated by the occasional sigh and moan. 

Sanji’s tongue ceaselessly worked her nipples in turns, while his hand, continuing to grope her ass, inched closer and closer to her core. The anticipation made her shiver - a sign that was not lost on her lover. It wasn’t long until Sanji’s long fingers went for a feel. He needed to know just how much he was pleasing her, just how wet she was for him - just how much she wanted him. 

His finger brushed against her gently, softly, teasingly… Then he stopped abruptly. He looked up at her with wide eyes, and his mouth hanging slightly as he tried to string the words together. His finger was coated in slick. The sly grin on her face - her lipstick now dishevelled out of bounds - and that subtle wiggle of her eyebrows gave him the answer to his silent question. 

Sanji could feel a thin stream of blood peak from his nostril as the realisation sunk in. He didn’t think he could have loved this woman even more, and yet, here he was, overcome with love and lust alike for the goddess before him. 

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned the blood off his face. Afterall, it wouldn’t do to smear the lady with his blood. 

“I didn’t think I could love you even more,” he whispered, as he stared down at his wet finger. His confession earned him a mischievous smile from his lover. 

“Oh?” she mused teasingly, as she gently pushed his wet digit into his mouth. Sanji’s lips parted, taking it in, and sucking her essence clean off. He hummed at the taste - every aspect of her was simply delicious to him. She smiled at the sound and let go of his hand. 

“How about you show me just how much you love me then?” she asked, a mischievous grin on her beautiful lips. She slowly turned around for him, his eyes trained on her form as she moved. Bending over slowly, she propped herself on the desk seat. The frilly lace of her blue panties parted to frame her lips perfectly, and reveal her welcoming warmth to him. Her pussy glistened with arousal, twitching slightly in anticipation. 

Sanji wasted no time yanking his tie loose, and dropping to his knees behind her. It was far from the first time eating her out, yet he could never tire of it. Sanji was a pleaser - if he could spend the rest of his life pleasuring this divine being that deigned to claim him as her own, he could die a happy man. 

He grabbed her hips and teasingly traced her folds with his tongue, making her jolt from the sensitivity. Sanji smirked at her reaction. His hands trailed 

“My gods, darling, everything about you is simply divine,” he murmured as his hands roamed over her belt - over silky and lacey fabrics alike, before settling on her ass cheeks. His breath fanned over her core, sending a shiver up her spine. Then Sanji’s fingers slipped under her straps - it was so close, so intimate, like being bound to her in body too, and not just heart. His heart thumped at the thought. 

“To think that I get to taste you…” His words trailed off. His tongue flicked over her sensitive bud, making her pussy clench hard. 

“...is more than I deserve…” He continued. His tongue dragged languidly over her wet warmth. Sanji moaned at the taste, sending pleasant vibrations up her back. 

“...and I thank you for it, love.” 

With that, he eagerly set about his work. His tongue licked circles over her clit, making her tense with pleasure. It then trailed over her folds - once, twice, thrice. With every flick of his tongue, her sounds grew more strained - more needy - wordlessly asking for more. 

Every time he dipped past her entrance, her needy core would clench around nothing, pushing out more of her essence. Every time he left her aching, she’d whine so sweetly. His tongue dipped between her folds - after all, who was Sanji to deny his lady her wish? 

She hummed at the feeling of his slippery muscle exploring her wet core. Her fingers grasped a little tighter at the little cushion on the chair. The way he ate her never disappointed - he seemed insatiable; like a parched man who’d just discovered an oasis in the desert. 

Sanji devoured her feverishly. He lapped at her juices as if trying to get every last drop into his mouth. He hummed and moaned at the taste; at the thought of pleasuring her. His sounds of pleasure vibrated against her core, adding to the stimulation. His hums and moans were met with whines and moans of her own, only spurring him on. 

His lips latched onto her clit, sucking on it just the way she liked it. He moaned softly as his tongue assaulted her little bundle of nerves in all the best, most delicious ways. 

She struggled to keep her voice down. No one needed to hear this but them… And maybe the Marimo, though that was mostly Sanji’s opinion. He’d have loved to rub it in his face… Yet, restrained as they were, their moans were enough to fill the small room. 

Her restraint began to falter when Sanji dipped a long, graceful finger inside her, easing it in, bit by bit. With Sanji now knuckle-deep in her, she nearly choked on her strained moan when he began to curl his finger, tickling that sweet spot. He curled and pumped his finger inside her as he continued to lick her clit relentlessly. 

She dipped down to her elbows, and placed a hand over her mouth, trying to tame her voice. But Sanji was having none of that, as he slipped in a second digit, and began pumping them faster. 

“Come on, love,” he hummed. “Let it out, love” he encouraged. “Let me hear that beautiful voice.” His tongue sucked hard on her swollen clit, as his fingers curled to press hard on her soft spot. And she broke… A loud moan escaped past her hands, prompting her to press her palm harder to her lips. But Sanji would not have it, as he continued his ministrations ín force. 

“Sanji,” she managed to choke out. “They’ll… hear- ah! Ah! Sanji!” She could feel a grin tugging at his lips. 

“Hmm? Let them hear us,” he hummed against her. “You just enjoy yourself, love.” 

Sanji felt honoured to be of such intimate service to a woman as precious and radiant as her; honoured to be allowed to dip his sinner’s tongue between her precious folds. And he would do anything and everything in his power to ensure her pleasure. 

“Come on, love,” he urged on. His free hand pinched one of her garter straps. “Let go.” Snap. He let go. The strap snapped against her skin, adding a pleasant sting to his words. “Cum for me…” His fingers curl and pump inside her, hitting her soft spot faster and harder. “Please...” 

The way he was working her cunt - his lips on her flesh, his tongue flicking over her clit, his fingers ruthlessly hitting all the right spots, the way he hummed against her, sending such pleasant shivers up her spine, and those dirty words leaving his pretty lips, giving her goosebumps - made it near impossible to keep her voice down. Her climax was approaching fast. She was panting as she felt that familiar knot form in her belly. Her moans grew louder, as her walls started clenching harder and faster around his fingers. Sanji could tell she was close. 

“Come on, love. Let go,” he urged again. His voice was low, and deep. There was that certain tone he only ever got when they were alone together. He knew it drove her wild. 

Her voice was growing louder - just the way he wanted it to. He snapped her garter strap again. Her walls spasmed. She could feel that knot tightening, threatening to burst. Sanji had to fight back a smirk. She was so close. His fingers rubbed her clit fast. He hummed deeply as he continued to suck and licked her clit. The vibrations rushed through her core, through every nerve, finally pushing her over the edge. 

“Sanji~” Her voice sang out his name on a broken moan as she came undone around his fingers. Sanji chuckled, pleased with himself, as he continued to finger her through her orgasm. His chuckle sent another wave of pleasure to her sensitive core, making her clench even harder around him. Her sweet sounds filled the room as she moaned and panted in ecstasy. 

Sanji pulled his fingers out of her weeping cunt. She was slowly coming down from her high, and he took the opportunity to indulge himself, and dive in, lapping at her nectar. His tongue dragged past her folds a few times, before dipping in to collect as much of her essence on his tongue as he could. 

She was still sensitive from her release. The feeling on his tongue hungrily roaming her insides once more was intense - almost too much. Her fingers clenched at the seat’s cushion. She whimpered as he continued to eat her out for a few more seconds. It was intense, but she knew he loved this part oh so much. And afterall, she didn’t mind it all that much either. She loved the way he revered and adored her. 

He squeezed her ass cheeks and pushed them closer together. His face was a mess by now - coated in her thick, glistening slick - and he loved it that way. He could have done it for days, but the way she whimpered under his touch told him that a few more licks will have had to suffice for now. 

His tongue slipped out of her once more. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief to quickly clean up his face - It wouldn’t do for a gentleman to kiss a lady while smeared so. 

Having cleaned himself up, he tossed the handkerchief on the desk. He watched her as she steadied her breath and regained her composure. She arched her back, stretching like a cat. How graceful she was in all things. Sanji rose to his feet, and she turned around to face him. Their eyes met, and they both smiled at each other - softly, gently, like the love in their hearts.  

“That was so good, darling,” she praised him. Her hand came up to cup his cheek. Her thumb lightly rubbed over his stubble. 

“Only my best for you, cherie,” he responded, while taking his hand in his once more and placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. 

Leaning in, she beckoned Sanji to kiss her. Their lips met in a slow, deep kiss. Her hands caressed his firm chest and arms slowly, sensually. His hands cupped her face, before one of them sank to rest on her lower back. His hand was large, warm, and soothing. It made her feel safe… wanted… like she truly belonged there, in his arms. 

She pressed her lips harder against his. Sanji happily obliged her, and deepened the kiss. Her hands made short work of loosening his dress shirt’s buttons. Her hands roamed over his bare chest, feeling it rise and fall. His breathing was slowly picking up, as was hers. She paused for a few moments over his left breast. She could feel his heart beat firmly in his chest. Though it beat fast, she knew that it beat fast for her, with love, and with desire. Every time she felt his heart beneath her fingertips, or laid her head on his chest, she was reminded of just how deeply one can love another. 

She smiled into the kiss. Her hands resumed their travels, continuing on south - down from his firm chest and to his sculpted abs. His muscles tensed under her touch. Her fingers traced them slowly, feeling the way they dipped and bulged. 

Sanji licked her bottom lip, gently requesting entrance - a request she most happily approved. Her soft lips parted for him, and his tongue entered her mouth slowly. The kiss was slow, yet passionate. Sanji took his time to savour her tongue on his, swallowing the soft moans she gave him. His hands reached down to squeeze her plump ass, and he groaned softly into the kiss. 

One of her hands slipped further down. It trailed lightly over his belt, feigning to hook its fingers in it, before continuing on lower, and settling on his bulge. His hard shaft twitched in his pants under her light touch. She smirked into the kiss. Her hand applied more pressure, and began rubbing up and down his generous length. The roles now reversed, Sanji groaned into her mouth - his cock straining against the constraints of his suit pants. 

Her fingers hooked themselves into his belt, and made short work of his buckle. Then the button… and finally the zipper. Sanji made a somewhat high pitched noise at the newfound freedom. He loved it so much when she undressed him - it just made him feel so wanted. And to be wanted by a woman like her was certainly quite the accomplishment. 

His hands travelled up to cup her face. He meant to do so gently, as a silent ‘I love you’, but the way she shuffled his pants off his hips and grabbed a firm hold of his clothed hard cock, made it hard to contain himself. Sanji took control of the kiss. His lips pressed harder against hers. His mouth became insatiable. He needed her. He needed her in every way conceivable. To love, to cherish, to hold… and to fuck absolutely senseless. 

She melted into the kiss. Melted in his warm, large hands as they trailed over her body, pawing at her every curve. 

It didn’t take her long to yank the boxers off his hips. His pretty cock sprang to attention - long, thick and glistening with precum. Her thumb rubbed over his tip, spreading the precum around, earning her a grateful moan from her man. 

Their mouths parted slowly. They both looked so messy smeared with her lipstick, and a string of drool dangling between their lips. They gazed into each other's eyes. There was love and passion in them - soft as the soothing summer rain, yet wild like the storm. She pecked him on the lips once more before shooting him a look. There was a cheeky grin on her lips, and her eyes spelled mischief. 

“Sit down, love,” she urged, as her hands nudged him towards the bed behind him. 

Sanji obliged, stumbling back, his pants still around his legs. A few shuffles later, he plopped on their soft bed. His hands lingered on her form, running up and down her sides, and rubbing over the soft fabrics that hugged her curves so sinfully. His eyes, turned upward, behold her with an awe that borders on reverence. 

“You are truly majestic, my love. How a man like me could be so blessed, nobody knows,” he murmurs softly. 

She smiled and shook her head at him. Placing her hands on his strong shoulders, she leant in to plant a soft, warm kiss to his swollen lips. 

“I’m the one that’s lucky to have you, darling. And tonight I want to show you just how much I appreciate you,” she whispered against his lips. 

With one more gentle kiss to his lips, she sank to her knees before him. Her hands pulled his boxers and his pants all the way off, and he shuffled them off his feet, tossing them someplace in the room. 

His length stood firm at attention. He could feel her breath slowly fanning over it as she looked up at him. Her warm hand wrapped around his girth, her hand too small to wrap all the way around it. She smiled up at him as she slowly began pumping his cock. 

“Wait,” he said. His hand reached back and grabbed a cushion. Bending forward, he gestured for her to place it under her knees. “Here,” he said, as she allowed him to slip the puffy padding under her, “it wouldn’t do to have you kneeling on the hard floor.” 

Sanji’d always been so soft and caring towards her. 

“Thank you, love,” she murmured, giving him a warm smile. 

Sanji returned the smile, and placed a hand on her head, caressing her hair. 

Her eyes then turned to her work. His tip was still squeezing out tiny droplets of desire. She rubbed the tip, spreading it around. Her head dipped down and began pressing chaste kisses along his length, from the thick bottom, to his pretty, pink tip. 

Sanji sighed, feeling her lips teasingly kissing his shaft. His cock twitched hard when her tongue flattened against the base and traced a long line up to his tip. She teased the tip of his dick, tasting the salty cock droplets. Her lips sucked on the tip, as if trying to get more of it. Then, she set about licking along his length a few more times. It was torture for Sanji, but he was not one to complain. While eager to feel her beautiful lips wrapped around his cock, his length sliding down her pretty little throat, a part of him relished the teasing and anticipation. His fingers twitched in her hair, trying to grab it just yet, trying to keep himself composed. 

She judged how long to tease him based on his reactions - his wistful sighs, the tensing muscles in his strong legs, and the way his cock twitched so deliciously in her hand, begging for more. At last, she relented. Her eyes looked up at him as she tentatively wrapped her lips around his tip and sucked gently. Sanji nearly hissed at the feeling. She sucked a little harder, and could feel his fingers twitch in her hair again. 

Gathering some spit in her mouth, she welcomed him in her mouth, slowly inching down along his smooth length. She could hear him sigh above her. His hands now gathered her hair at the top of her head. His fingers tangled in her silky soft locks, keeping them out of her face. 

She’d made it about halfway down when she began slowly bobbing her head. One hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping him in sync with her mouth. The other hand rose to cup his balls and gently fondle them. 

He swallowed dryly and tried to hold back a whimper. This only urged her on to suck on him harder. 

Sanji’s breath was becoming shallower. His cheeks were dusted with such a pretty pink, as he looked down at her head bobbing up and down his length. Her hand would sometimes twist around his cock. Every now and then she would give him a particularly harsh suck, and he would groan. Down below, she took his sighs and groans as compliments and directions. 

His girth was generous and she would sometimes need a small break. In those moments, she would sometimes settle on teasing the soft, pink tip - sucking it, or swirling her tongue over it. Other times, she would pump his full length with both hands. Either way, she would leave him waiting for too long. 

She was quick to show him just how much she appreciated him. Removing a hand from his cock and placing it back on his sack, she dove down along his length, swallowing him whole. 

Her lover gasped at the sudden wave of warmth and pleasure, somewhat surprised to suddenly feel himself sliding down her throat. She held him there for a little while, enjoying the way he moaned helplessly above her. Sanji had always been vocal in bed, and she loved it. Trying to elicit those sounds out of him was something of a competition she had with herself. 

She began moving her head up and down again, sucking as hard as she could along the way, before releasing him from her mouth again with a lewd pop. She was such a mess as she looked up at him, all flushed and panting. A string of drool hung ‘tween her lips and his cock, and Sanji was quite convinced there were few sights more obscene than this. His cock was covered in her spit. Her once painted lips had left a red ring around the thick base of his cock, a reminder of how deep she’d gone. Sanji’s heart skipped a beat when he looked at her like that. Even after all this time, he sometimes still could not believe his luck. He felt beyond special to have such an effervescent beauty on her knees for him, sucking him off. 

She looked up at him with flushed cheeks and teary eyes. There was still that smile on her face, as if silently asking ‘Is this good enough for you?’ It was about to drive him mad. 

“You are too good for me, ma cherie,” he muttered, and she grinned, diving back down. She insisted on giving him her best shot. Even if it often made her choke and gag, it didn’t matter. Hell, judging by his sounds, the vibrations must have been quite nice for him. Or maybe it was the sound of her choosing his fat cock over the oxygen she needed to breathe? 

Drool coated her fist, and dripped down towards his balls. His breaths were shallow and ragged. His legs trembled, and she could feel his balls tightening. He was close to cumming. She could feel it. And she wanted to taste it.  

Though struggling, she tried to keep up the pace - bobbing, and sucking, pumping as needed. It was no easy task, but it was worth it to see the look on his face when she swallowed his milk. 

Sanji moaned above her. His one hand grabbed a hold of her hair, while his other hand clutched the sheets. She bobbed her head faster, trying to take him as deeply as she could without gagging too much. Her mouth threatened to suck the very life right out of him in the most deliciously zealous way. When she moaned around his cock, it was game over. He throbbed in her hand, and twitched in her mouth. His cum spurted into her mouth as she continued to pump him through his orgasm. A strangled gasp left his lips as he tried to steady his breath, as his hand slowly caressed her head. 

Once he stopped twitching, she released his spent cock from her mouth and looked up to him with a smile. His eyes gazed down at her with the most tender expression; love, admiration, and gratitude written all over his handsome features. 

She opened her mouth. His breath stopped and his body tensed with a new wave of arousal as he looked at the salty white liquid that filled her pretty mouth. She then swallowed heavily, not taking his eyes off him for a second. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her pretty little throat twitch as she swallowed his load. Her fingers came up to gingerly dab the corners of her mouth - her thumb brushing lightly against one corner of her lips, then her ring finger against the other. She was breathtaking. 

She slowly rose to her feet and placed her hands on his shoulders. His gaze followed her, mesmerised. 

“Lay back, love,” she instructed, as her hands gently pushed down on his strong shoulders. Sanji did as he was told. Who was he to disobey his lady, especially when she was being so very persuasive? 

With him flat against the mattress, she wasted no time climbing on top of him, her thick thighs straddling him. Her hands roamed every inch of his chiselled, exposed torso, as she leant down and captured his lips in a fervent kiss. 

Sanji grabbed her shoulders, pushing her upright and following suit. His hands desperately tugged at his shirt, trying to shake it off his shoulders. Catching on, she rushed to help. The more skin exposed, the better. They quickly managed to dispose of his shirt, tossing it somewhere across the room, and resuming position. Her hands pushed him back down on the bed, while his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her closer. 

The kiss was growing more and more heated. Lips dancing against each other’s, tongues exploring each other’s mouths, hands roaming wherever they could reach. Sanji ground up against her; his hard length pressing and rubbing against her slick, wet folds.

 She broke the kiss, leaving his still hungry lips hanging, and quickly  latched on to his neck, kissing, sucking, and licking down, along his neck, collar bones, and chest. 

His hands roamed her sides, tracing the smooth curves over her body. He enjoyed the contrast between her bare skin and the intricate designs of the lingerie still enclosing her hips, her waist, her legs. 

Jolting up, and arching her back, she ground her heat over his cock. She moaned at the friction, and panted lightly as she smiled down at him.

“Ready for the main course?” she asked.There was a frenzied look on her face as she looked down at him - anticipation, no doubt. She could feel him twitch against her. 

“Oh, I could not be more ready,” he rasped, as he reached up to cup the back of her head and pull her down in an ardent kiss. His free hand reached down, and positioned his cock at her entrance. She was practically dripping for him. He prodded her entrance, always making sure she wasn’t forcing it. He moaned into the kiss. Her walls clamped hard around him, before letting up again. 

“You doing alright, love?” he asked. No matter how many times they did this, his concern for her well-being and satisfaction would never cease, nor diminish. 

“Mmm~,” she hummed, as she rose up again and dragged a hand through her dishevelled hair. “I am more than alright,” she assured him, right before her hips pressed down on him; her needy cunt swallowing his length whole, the sudden feeling making them both gasp loudly. 

“Gods,” he gasped, as his hands grabbed her ass. “Ah~” His head fell back against the mattress. “You’re so. fucking . tight!” he hissed between his teeth, as his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. She could only moan in response, as her walls clenched around him, still adjusting to his sizeable girth. Sanji, too, could use the moment to steady himself - wouldn’t want to disappoint the lady, now, would he? 

They laid there for a moment or two, in each other’s embrace, as they caught their breath and adjusted to one another. Their eyes then met - there was that same frenzied, hungry look in them. A small smile twisted on her lips in a blend of sweet love and unadulterated lust. A nod of her head was all he needed - his hips pulled back slowly, then pushed back up into her heat. Her hips met his tempo, bouncing herself up and down his length as her tongue slipped into his mouth. Moans and sighs were muffled by their kiss. The slapping sounds of skin on skin echoes off the walls of their bedroom. One’s drool in the other’s mouth. One’s sweat on the other’s body. One’s juices blending with their lover’s. 

The heat was rising. The tempo picked up. Fingers dug deeper in each other’s flesh - her nails clawed at his chest; his fingers dug into her hips as he helped bounce her up and down his cock. Her juices coated him completely. Sanji admired the way sweat started dripping down her neck… pooling between her plump and glistening breasts as they bounced around for him. But there was only so far she could go. She could not keep up with the pace any longer - her legs were tired, her body felt heavy. Sanji noticed, and stilled her hips, pulling them down on him. He smiled at her. 

“You’ve done far more than enough, my love,” he said. His hand reached up and gently grasped her chin between his fingers. He guided her down to his lips, meeting her halfway in a soft kiss. “It’s time I took good care of my lady,” he said softly, placing one more kiss to her lips, before flipping her on her back. He never once broke their union - it would have been sacrilegious. 

Sanji wasted no time resuming their dance. His pace was steady, moderate, as he leaned down to kiss her. 

“Sanji,” she sighed. “Please~ I need more…”

She didn’t need to ask him twice. 

Sanji carefully grabbed her thighs, and lifted them slowly. His warm lips pressed soft kisses to the sides of her knees as he eyed her, checking for any signs of discomfort. But the deeper angle only made her sigh in pleasure and drop her head back on the pillow. This was good. 

Sanji smiled to himself as he watched her face twist in pleasure. He could do this all night, just to see her like that. And he loved to hear the way his name would fall from her swollen lips in broken moans or breathy whispers; the way she chanted his name and his praises; the way she begged for more, as if in prayer. 

Indeed, it had come thus far. He hadn’t even noticed how his pace had picked up, but she clearly had - there was no doubt that she’d forgotten all about being quiet… or perhaps no longer cared? Her cries filled the room as his cock bullied her G-spot.

“Sa- Sa- Ah! Sanji! Sanji! Oh! Harder! F-Fuck- Fuck me- Harder!” 

Sanji leaned a little heavier on her legs, propping them closer to her chest, fucking her still deeper. He leaned down, their foreheads nearly touching, their breaths mixing as they panted and moaned and groaned in unison. Her arms reached up to wrap around his neck. A sheen of sweat was starting to form on his brow as he pounded her harder. The heat was steadily rising. Her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping him against her body. Her cunt was so tight, so welcoming, so… greedy for him. 

“My gods, I love you,” he groaned in her ear, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. 

She was past the point of stringing words together - every sound coming from her pretty throat a wanton cry begging for more as her fingers clawed at his back. 

Sanji was mesmerised by her - the pretty sounds she made, the way her breasts bounced so sensually before him with every impact, the way she was so needy for him and only him, the way he’d reduced her to this moaning, screaming mess. 

The room was filled with their pleasure - their moans and cries, the sounds of her soppy cunt, and his balls slapping against her ass, the smell of sweat and sex, the growing heat… It wasn’t all that long until her walls started clenching around him. Sanji sucked a breath in. She was threatening to pull him over the edge, but he had to hold back - hold until he knew she’d come.But it was hard… So damn hard… 

“I - I’m so close!” she cried out. Sanji groaned in response. He was giving it his all and then some. His hands grasped her shoulders for leverage, aiming to go as deep as he could. 

With a broken moan she came undone beneath him, her slick coating his cock and forming a white ring around the thick base. She looked so pretty like that - her lips parted in a silent scream, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Sanji kept fucking her through her orgasm. His pace was growing frenzied as he searched for his own. He was so close… So close! He needed to be deep - as deep as he could - when he pumped her full of his milky white seed. 

And there he was, coming just shortly after her. Her body’d gone limp in bliss underneath him; the biggest smile on her face - all blissed out. Her legs trembled around his waist as his thrusts stuttered. He pushed into her a few more times, pumping his cum into her greedy cunt, then slowed down. 

He placed his forehead on hers and looked into her eyes. This had to be the very height of love; the closest that two souls could get to becoming one - their sweat, their cum, their breaths all mixing, as they gazed into each other’s eyes. They say the eyes are windows to the soul… And Sanji could remember ever having seen such a bright and beautiful soul before in his life. 

Silence fell over them as they slowly came down from their highs. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. 

“I love you,” he whispered, breaking the silence, and his lips found hers in a long, sweet kiss - gentle, tender and full of love. 

When their lips parted, she looked up at him with a sweet smile. 

“Are you ready, love?” she asked softly. She knew she had to ask it - if it had been for Sanji, he probably wouldn’t have pulled out ever again. And Sanji knew it too… 

 Sanji nodded. “You know I’ll never be ready. So it’s up to you, love,” he said with a small smile, and a hint of amusement on his face. 

She giggled and nodded at him. Sanji shifted his weight around, and he slowly pulled out of her. Watching his seed seep out of her twitching cunt was a sight to behold; a sight he’d never tire of. A part of him was considering trying to go for another round, but the look on her face told him she was spent for the night. ‘And what a perfectly wonderful night it’s been,’ he thought to himself. 

Standing up, Sanji headed to the faucet in their little en-suite bathroom. When they decided to move in together, Sanji asked Franky if he could arrange some privacy for them, which Franky was happy to puzzle out. 

He grabbed a soft wash-cloth and turned on the tap, letting it run warm for a moment. He washed himself in the low basin with warm water and soap, then returned to her with the warm, damp cloth. 

She was still laying on the bed; her legs still somewhat open. The flush on her skin was starting to wear off. 

Sanji sat down on the bed and began cleaning her up. He did this every time. Of course she could do it herself, but he always insisted that it was the least he could do for her and the truth was that she enjoyed the extended intimacy. 

She’d watch him clean her up - always so careful of hurting her - and talk to him in hushed tones about this or the other, blending in sweet nothings wherever she could. He was just so good to her. 

When he was done, he went and placed the cloth on the edge of the sink, and made haste to return to her. 

“Shall I get you your nightgown, love?” he asked, noticing the goosebumps on her skin. 

“I don’t think I’ll need it with you by my side,” she answered, getting under the blankets and holding them open for him to join. 

Sanji smiled at her. Smiled to himself. He’d never imagined such a love was possible - certainly not for him. And yet, here they were - more in love than the poets could verse. 

He made his way to the bed and crawled in beside her. He turned the lights out from the switch by the bedside. 

She turned around and pulled her hair back. Sanji slipped an arm under her head, while his other arm went to pull her closer. He nuzzled her hair, inhaling her scent - perfume, and sweat… and him. 

Her hips shuffled around, pushing back against his. “You know,” she started, “the early hours are particularly cold… I might need some extra help to stay warm in the morning,” he mused, and she could feel Sanji’s soldier rise up to attention again. 

Tag list: @sampaisleyriot Not sure which of the guys you were waiting for (if any in particular), but I hope you like it :)