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solbaby7 · 11 months ago

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Make You Mine

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, sexual tension, toxic relationships, possessive themes, violence, ( just a fuck ton of bad decisions babe, i can’t help it, live for a feral Az )

summary:

[ part one ]

—

Sometime after dinner, once the adrenaline and underlying excitement had quelled; you’d decided to keep Damien around. While proving to be generally horrible, he also perfectly filled the place of a pawn.

A pawn in a game that only you knew you were playing.

One that pushed the line of entirely too far when you showed up at training the following day with hickeys lining the length of your neck—the same place Azriel’s lips had pressed their kisses into at dinner. The same lips you’d pictured when Damien was putting them there, hands groping at your ass as he eased the hem of your black dress over your hips.

Azriel notices you the same time you spot Nesta, striding past the shadowsinger without a hint of acknowledgement but you could feel his eyes glued to the fit of your leathers. “I thought it wasn’t your place to be out here playing with swords?” Nesta drawls out, almost bored as her opponent shuffled out of the ring nursing a bruised jaw.

“If that’s the case, then show me where I belong, Lady Death.” You peer up at her and the five finger grip on her hip, practice sword held loose in her free hand.“Unless, you can’t?”

“I’m surprised you still have enough energy to bother,” Nesta gestures to her own neck and you subconsciously tug your shirt higher. “Long night?”

A slow grin grows at the corner of your mouth, hands bracing your weight to hoist yourself into the ring and briefly you all but preen when you feel the shadowsingers rage permeating the air. Toying with Azriel’s poor restraint never ended well but surely he wouldn’t actually kill anyone. Pride overwhelms common sense and you can feel the chill of his shadows slinking around the edges of the ring as if summoned; watching, listening. “Early morning.” Nesta’s grip tightens on the hilt of her practice sword with full intent of taking you up on your offer but when her lips part no words form.

Instead, she makes a noise, not quite a scoff but not exactly a hum either. “So, there is something decent about the company you keep after all.” You don’t take it offensively and you’re certain Nesta’s readying herself for more but it never comes. A brow raises, head tilting to the side but the silence makes sense when the towering figure behind you blocks the warm sun from bare shoulders.

“Actually,” The husky tone tickles the shell of your ear. “—you’ll be sparring with me today.”

“I’d rather not.”

Azriel’s hand curls around your arm, holding firm but not hard enough that you can’t break free if you tried—if you wanted to. You refuse his gaze, focusing on anything but him and his centuries of trained muscles stuffed beneath the fabric of his fighting leathers. He’d ditched the jacket, tunic too, both tossed in a heap near Cassian. Left in nothing but the sleeveless undershirt that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination; broadcasting the sharp lines of his neck and the soft curls of inky tattoos that resided there. “You don’t get to make the decisions here anymore,” His free hand raises to cup your jaw, tilting your head to the side and he can’t fight his body’s natural reaction to snarl at the very thought of another man’s mouth on your skin. “Not when you keep proving that you make such poor choices.”

You jerk away from his grasp, twisting out of the grip on your arm and a foot smacks at the back of his knees. Finally looking at him—looking down at him, Azriel sees the fire in your eye; the hatred and anger. The betrayal at his hands and the person you had to become because of it. “You have no right to judge my choices.” It’s barely a whisper, concealing as much as you could with so many eyes watching—so many ears listening. “You mean nothing to me.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” Curse your body for reacting to his touch; warm hands sliding up to cup at your waist. The smell of him sinking into your nostrils and seducing every nerve like a walking aphrodisiac.

“I think I have feelings for Elain.”

The reminder snaps you back to reality, hand reaching out to smack him clear across his face. His eyes lower to slits, right cheek going red but you’re too pissed to even register the stinging pain in your palm. “Fine,” Azriel says too casually, jaw ticking with barely there restraint. “We can play this your way.”

It’s gone quiet save for the two of you, the others pausing their fighting to see the scene unfold, waiting to witness the spymaster make an example of you. Certainly, they must’ve forgotten that you’d been doing this since you were old enough to wield a sword; fighting males bigger than Azriel.

Fuck feelings when you had a point to prove.

“I’m not here to play with you, Az. I just want to fight.” It was a cheap shot; using the stupid little nickname to your advantage but his body always reacted so obediently to his name on your tongue. He’d just barely gotten back to his feet before you strike at him, throwing a quick succession of jabs his way in a style that he didn’t teach you.

Maybe all of those weeks away traveling the other courts after his confession had left marks that he hadn’t learned yet.

Something about you that Azriel didn’t know.

The very thought leaves him distracted a second longer than he’d have ever allowed if it was anyone else. He’s quick to recover, blocking and dodging, throwing hits of his own but eventually you grow tired of the refrained punches—the obviously subdued responses to your rage and it only adds more fuel to the fire. “If you aren’t even going to try and be a challenge then just yield so I can spar with Nesta like I planned.”

He hadn’t reached for his sword once, not a single finger twitched to grip at the daggers holstered at his hips and sure, hand-to-hand was fine but with Azriel it felt too close; too intimate. “Is that what you want?” He takes a step closer and immediately your face turns away from him, refusing to acknowledge him or that low tone he took with you and only you. “A challenge?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Except to have been the first choice. One that he was sure in. Not second guessing if every special moment had only felt like that for you. “Not anymore.” The thought alone has your skin flushing with embarrassment, completely turning around to hide but Azriel just shifts to accommodate.

“You don’t mean that.” There’s worry etched in his brow, skewing the whole canvas of his face and it was like your soul wanted nothing more than to appease him. Battering and clawing at your bones, scrambling for the freedom soothe every line and give him everything he’d ever dreamed of and more.

“I want to.” Azriel watches the stone wall you put up, rounding up all that love and adoration, cradling at the sobbing affection that no longer had a place to call home. It takes everything in you to leave it all, to ignore the desire to toss aside better judgement and fall into the need. The softness in your eyes dies with the squaring of your shoulders as you retake your stance, regarding him as nothing more than one of the recruits. “Fight me or leave the ring—I don’t exactly have all day.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to leave. Forfeit and grant you a worthy opportunity but that is not the case.

You should’ve known better.

Azriel’s determination was a force to be reckoned with, skilled swipes of his sword followed by combat moves he only saved for the battlefield. A particularly rough strike is blocked but it still makes you stumble. “Is this challenge enough for you?” Azriel demands, swords interlocked, faces so close you could smell the minty scent of toothpaste on his breath. Golden eyes are piercing under the suns rays, barely concealing how impressed he truly was with the way you’d kept up. Swift and limber, light on your feet and efficient in every step taken but there’s a certain chaos to your moves—something fresh and unpredictable. “This right here,” The fight, the passion, the frantic thrum of your blood rushing in your ears from the pure adrenaline that erupted at the sight of him. “—is why we will never be over.” He’s not even breaking a sweat, syllables breaching perfectly kissable lips while looking like he belonged on a throne in the deepest chasms of Hel. “I know he doesn’t make you feel like this—not like I do.”

“Stop.” It takes more effort now; balancing keeping up that stone wall and maintaining your composure under his attacks. A deep breath to settle your thoughts and you completely drop your sword, effortlessly switching to something more hands on.

“Don’t you see that I can’t?” The restraint in his voice slips, a vein bulging in his neck and your fingers scream for you to reach out and trace it. “Not until you see that he will never be able to do for you what I can.” Azriel’s shadows swirl around your arms, clamping them close to your body as he pulls you into him—his chest on your back and those hands attempting to disarm you. Your breath hitches when you feel the trace of warm skin down the length of your holsters and the weapons fastened to them. A barely there that sends your body in a pure frenzy; one that demands all things Azriel until the end of time. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what it felt like—you and me.” The stiff length of his cock pressed into the curve of your spine and it takes everything in you not to actually moan. “Just say the words and I’ll remind you. Right here in front of everyone if that’s what you wish.”

Do it. Your thoughts shout. Do it. You know you want to.

“I think I have feelings for Elain.”

Sharp jabs of your elbow to his abdomen. A hand that clamps down around the thick bulk of his arm and all that manly strength is used against him when he’s flipped right over your shoulder. Legs straddle at his waist, one blade shoved at his throat while the other pressed gently at his chest. “No, he doesn’t make me feel how you do.” You confess, breathless and your shoulders slump ever so slightly. “But, at least with him, I know I was his first choice. At least with him,” Your words shake and Azriel can’t handle the way you have to force the composure. “—I never have to worry about being second best.” The swords clatter to the ground, not bothering to retrieve them as you get back to your feet.

You’re nearly at the edge of the ring when he calls out, still on the ground and propped up on his elbows. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Neither do you, Az.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #azriel #acotar azriel #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fics #acotar series #acotar angst #acotar fic

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b-lossm · 2 months ago

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•*+Change pt.2+*•

Caitvi x reader [just vi for this part, fluffier but still angsty]

Synopsis: wait hes.. alive? pt.1

SPOILERS FOR ACT 2!!

Its been months since you've seen Cait, or Vi. You don't even know if you three two are still together, Lately you've heard rumors about another 'Hound of the Underground' taking on the pit fighting scene with rigor. The description almost sounds like Vi, but black hair? She was always proud of her reddish pink hair.

You walk into the arena and pay the fee to get the red ticket, you notice her friend loris in the crowd and make your way over to him. After one quick conversation later and you find out what happened and that she came her to 'outrun her demons', your anger for Caitlyn boiling over but quickly simmering down once you see your girlfriend "Holy shit....." you say, admiring her appearance, her muscles somehow got bigger, and the black suited her, but you like the pink more.

Standing there she doesn't notice you at first, focus on punching this guy's jaw again, but then she hears your familiar shouting from the sidelines, at first she thought she was hallucinating you again, but then she realizes its actually you and decides to put on a show just for you.

After her match you meet her again, hugging her softly before asking her what happened with Caitlyn even though Loris told you, you had to hear it from her "I don't wanna talk about it Sunshine, what she did made me question everything--made me question if what me and her had was even real or if she was just using me for information and my strength" oh your poor girl. You push her head into the crook of your neck "lets rest yeah? is that okay?" you don't wanna push the subject anymore, knowing that she' gonna tell you about it eventually. She cuddles into you, dropping her fists to hold you close "mph- yeah that's great Sunshine" she gives you soft kisses on your neck, missing the feeling of your skin on hers "G'night Y/n" she mumbles defeatedly "Goodnight" you kiss her forehead and rub the back of her undercut.

Before you surrender yourself to sleep you look around her small room, looking at all the discarded bottles and broken pieces of glass, noticing the beat up punching bag that has her black makeup on it, right where her eyes are 'my poor violet' you think 'what happened to us' your mind drifts to yours and hers room in your little apartment in Piltover, the nights and days you three would spend together, laughing and having fun before they had to leave.

The next morning you both wakeup with a start, she sits up slightly to see the source of the noise only to see her.. sister? After their argument, she told the two of you Vander was somehow alive and that he needed help.

"I have to do this y/n" she says while grabbing her gauntlets "Please let me come Vi--please" you beg, not wanting to be alone again, she places her hands on your waist, leaning in for a deep kiss coming back up for air she says "I promise I'll come back, I promise you y/n, go stay with Loris for a bit and I promise you that I'll come back" she hopes that you understand, even though her sister is a crazy she it had to be serious if she wasn't trying to kill her.

After your tearful reunion with the man, Jinx leads your little group to the outskirts of the fissures, Vi taking the time to catch you up with what happened, how she feels like her love for Cait was one sided all this time after her betrayal. Attempting to comfort her you try to reassure her that what she thinks isn't true, how she's too focused on grief and how she hit you too-- "What..?" Vi stops walking "She hit.. you too?" her anger is picking up, you can tell "umm. yeah..bu--" "No buts y/n what the fuck?? you didn't even do anything" she cuts you off obviously pissed at your guys' ex girlfriend, you sigh not wanting to talk about it "Vi can we just talk about it later" "No! this isn't oka--" she interrupts you again, then getting cut off by Jinx "We're here!!". The both of you look ahead at this weirdly pastel oasis civilization.

"we will talk about this later" she says with a huff after surrendering her gauntlets. You kiss her cheek to calm her down "Alright" you missed that little flash of red that appeared on her face whenever you did that, you miss the little flash of pink that appeared on Cait' face but you probably aren't gonna see her anytime soon.. you think

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act two will have two parts because so much happened!! tbh i kinda dont like this but whatever

#b lossm #arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #vi fluff #vi angst

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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago

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Nico wakes up to gagging and a soft glow coming from the bathroom.

His first thought is, bizarrely, that Hazel’s home. But her bunk is still empty, and her shoes aren’t by the door, and she didn’t wake him when she came in. She always wakes him when she comes in, even if it’s four thirty in the damn morning, because nothing makes her cackle quite like Nico choking back curses and tweaking under her smothering pillow.

“Shit,” comes a small voice from the bathroom, followed by more retching. “Shitshitshit, no —”

Nico bolts for the door.

“Hi,” Will says, or tries to. His scarred knuckles clench with every gag, wrapped too tightly around the rim of porcelain to tremble like the rest of him.

Something about the wobbly smile he keeps trying to form in between gags. Something about the sweat that has drenched his t-shirt, something about the deep circles under his eyes, something about his spot in the bed completely cold, wrinkled.

Something is not adding up.

“You’re not sick,” Nico murmurs, pressing the back of his hand to Will’s forehead. Will mutters something about bliss, leaning into Nico’s hand; he smiles again, but it is strained, and at odds with the glassy look in his eyes. The sharp, rapid breaths.

“Just don’t — feel good.”

Every word is punctuated by a big, heaving gasp, like he’s trying to breathe through heavy cotton. On a hunch, Nico slides his hands down Will’s face, brushing the goosebumps on his neck, the irritated, pulsing tendons, and rest flat against his chest, over his heart.

His heart that is pounding, so quickly it is actually challenging to recognise as a beat rather than a buzz.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Nico says quietly.

Will shrugs. He gags again, but clamps his mouth shut before it goes anywhere, breathing deeply and carefully through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart pounds faster, and the rapid movement of his chest grows shallow, but he manages to choke back his bile, swallow down whatever nausea is plaguing him.

“I’m — fine.” His laboured breathing is the loudest sound in the cabin. In the camp. “I’m handling it.”

Nico watches him. Watches him clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut and make a noise like he is being betrayed, like he is being sold for thirty silver by his own body, his own mind; watches him flex his muscles rigid and hold himself still like he can stop the nails and thorns from coming. He thinks of wide smiles and far away eyes and mental health pamphlets and cheerful slogans on infirmary walls.

“I think one of those things are true.”

“I don’t need —”

Whatever he doesn’t need is forgotten, because he is heaving again, only this time his body finds something to dredge up, even if that something is stomach acid and he cries as it burns its way up his throat, and in between heaving he wheezes, horrible whistling gasping noises, and his hair plasters to his forehead, and his body slumps into Nico’s hold and jerks away from him like rocky waves against a lakefront.

“How long have you been here?”

Will just shrugs again, and he cries, and he says “Leave, please,” and Nico wraps an arm tighter around his waist, and presses a kiss to his sweaty temple, lingering, holding, tasting salt from Will and from his tears both, and squeezing his eyes shut, and holding back the anger. Gritting his teeth and softening his hold, deliberately, resting his fingers delicately on the dip of Will’s hip, the raised pink of the stretch marks along his ribs.

“I hate it when you run from me,” he murmurs, and Will sobs again.

“I can’t breathe,” he says, and Nico squeezes and promises he can. “I’m dying. I’m dying, I’m gonna —”

“I’m here, Will.” He doesn’t say you’re not dying. He doesn’t say you’re fine, because this is the longest they’ve sat together in five days, because it is the the quiet middle of June, because yesterday Kayla spent half her shift screaming at Will to get out and ignoring him when he shouted back. Because the bandage around Will’s wrist has been worn to threads, because Lee’s hoodie has not been washed in weeks, because there is a newcomer named Michael and Will cannot even look at him. Because it has been bad. “I’m here.”

It is as much a reminder as it is a plea as it is a reprimand as it is a fruitless nothing, because when Nico struggles he gets angry, when Nico struggles he gets mean and biting and violent, but when Will struggles he wants the world to kill him. And for all that Nico is halfway to the grave he has clawed and chewed and fought his way to survival. And when Will scratches at the skin around his ears and screams into his hands and opens the chapped over scars on his lips his palms his fingers, Nico can only hold him, Nico can only gently pry his nails from his flesh and tell himself that one day they will get to the point where Nico wakes up. Where Will wakes him up, where he burrows into the place between his arms and his chest and hides in someone else for once. Where he trusts someone outside of himself enough to bare his back.

“I’m here,” he whispers again, and he presses his lips to Will’s hair and holds him as he sobs, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

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xoxoxkisses · 7 months ago

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The hot springs

Info:Muichiro invited you to go to the hot springs with him.

warnings: accidental? staring (both are aged up appropriately)

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Muichiro had a mission in the Swordsmith Village, and since you were his Tsuguko he invited you with him. The two of you had finished your patrolling and small training session, your muscles have been very tense lately and you werent sure why. You were used to his training and patrolling with him, so this was “off” for you.

“Y/n, are you okay? I’ve noticed your movements have been stiff.” He said staring at the path ahead of the two of you. “Yeah im fine, just tense muscles I guess.” You stared at the ground, slightly embarrassed. “I know a place we can go to that will help.” You looked at him and nodded your hand and followed him.

The two of you were on a different path now, you saw the signs saying “Hot Springs ahead!” So this is where he was taking you. The two of you came up on a small spring with rocks surrounding. You could feel the steam coming off even from a few feet away. “We’re here.” Muichiro sat his sword to the side and started putting his hair up. You decided to do the same. While you were putting your hair up, you heard a rustling sound. You turned around and were faced with Muichiro’s pure body facing away from you.

You turned your head fast before he could see you. You heard him get into the water and suddenly your muscles felt more tense. You suppose a few minutes went by as you were startled when Muichiro spoke up. “Y/n, are you not coming in?” He questioned. “N-no! I am!” You felt your hands trembling as you tried to unbutton your uniform. Noticing this, Muichiro volunteered to help. You brushed him off. “If you’re nervous I can turn away.” Before you could answer he already turned away. “Thank you.” You mumbled.

You finally got your uniform off and joined him in the hot spring. Your muscles instantly relaxed. “Hey this actually doesn’t feel so bad.” You said as you sunk till the water was at your nose. “I told you I knew a place.” He smiled at you. It was rare to see him smile. The two of you talked to each other, catching up with each other, reminiscing on your past missions.

Mitsuri had stumbled in and started undressing before she saw the two of you. “Eek! I’m so sorry!” She quickly dressed back up and left squealing. As she left you couldn’t help but blurt out. “Miss Kanroji is so pretty, and so Is her body, I’d kill to have one like that.” You said sighing, but in a somewhat good way. “I think you look perfect.” You heard Muichiro say. “Thanks Mui-wait a second…did you watch me undress?!!” You looked at him wide eyed, your face turning red. He let out a giggle, “Maybeee~.” You splashed the water at him, careful to not hit him in his eyes. “I can’t believe you!” You huffed. “I couldn’t help myself Y/n. I think you’re gorgeous.” He gave you a soft smile. “Whatever.” You pouted, trying to hide your true feelings. You were beyond shocked the Mist Hashira felt this way about you.

#kny muichiro #demon slayer #demon slayer muichiro #muichiro tokito #muichiro x reader #tokitō muichirō #viralpost #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #muichiro fluff

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hgfictionwriter · 7 months ago

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Sizing Up

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie’s new strap arrives and she tests it out on you.

Warning: Smut! Big strap, size kink, praise kink, soft dom/sub, language.

A/N: Size kink request. Did my best! Bit of a muscle fixation, Jessie manhandling reader. Reader taking a large strap.

Credit to @stargirlsfc for the gif

"Guess what just arrived?"

Jessie came around the corner holding up a box. You shot up on your knees on the couch, leaning over the arm of it as your eyes lit up. She propped the box on her hip, eyeing you and up down and spoke before you could say anything.

"I'm going to be fucking you like that before the night is out."

Your bright-eyed smile turned into a wicked smirk.

"Is that so? That's pretty bold of you to assume," you taunted.

"Pretty bold of you to tease me, too," she returned as she set down the box and strode over to you. Your smile widened as she approached.

A small yelp escaped you as she effortlessly lifted you off the couch and over her shoulder, holding you in place by your legs. She walked you both into the middle of the room and you couldn't help yourself from squeezing her ass as she did.

It was no secret that you loved her muscles and the way she could manhandle you whenever she felt like it. You knew she'd never hurt you, and being at her whim and mercy did things to you.

When she gently set you down on your feet and straightened back up to see your face, she was met with an excited grin. You quickly leaned in, cupping her cheeks with your hands and giving her a kiss. She grinned back at you.

"For you," she announced as she handed you the package. You opened it and revealed the new strap you'd purchased together. You bit your lip before looking up at her. She had her hands on her hips and she surveyed you with a smirk.

"Sure you can take all of that, baby?" She asked with a mix of wonder and teasing.

"Is that a challenge?" You asked impishly as you pulled it from the box and wrapped your hand around the base before locking eyes with her once more.

"Mm, I'll make sure you're good and ready," she said. "I know my baby can take it." She leaned down and kissed the side of your neck before pulling back. "Wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

True to her word, Jessie returned a few minutes later. Except this time, when she rounded the corner she was down to her boxers, which had a very noticeable bulge. You bit your lip in anticipation once more as she walked towards you.

You immediately placed a hand on her bulge as she came up to you and you smiled through a breathy laugh.

“Excited to see me?” You teased.

“Always,” Jessie replied without missing a beat.

"You're so big," you said as you leaned in to kiss her.

She chuckled lightly and returned your kiss. "And it's only for you."

Without any further warning, she lifted you up, guiding your legs to lock around her waist, and she walked you towards the edge of the room until your back was against the wall.

You rest your head against the wall and looked down at her as she held you steady, her biceps popping in her tank top. You squeezed them appreciatively.

"God, you look good," you told her and she flexed them further under your grip. You let out a small moan.

You felt her dig her fingers into the bottoms of your thighs, spreading your legs further momentarily as she rolled her hips up against your center, the strap pressing against you for a moment. A clipped moan escaped you at the fleeting touch.

"Mm, I can't wait to see the way you take me," she said as she kneaded your thighs and began kissing your collarbone. "The way you'll stretch out around me."

Another moan formed in your chest as you tilted your head back and tried to pull her closer.

"You're going to fill me so good," you told her. She rolled her hips up into you again.

"I know, baby. And you take me so well."

You ground yourself down into her, the strap rubbing you through the fabric and you could feel your arousal starting to pool already.

"Wish I could fuck you like this whenever I wanted. Just slip inside you whenever I like."

You moaned as you kissed her deeply, wrapping your arms around her strong shoulders. You rocked your hips against the strap. "Mm, I'd love that. And I'd let you take me whenever you like."

"God, you're too good," she muttered as continued to press herself into you, providing you with friction and temporary relief, but making you desperate for more.

She set you down, a small whimper escaping you at the loss of contact, but began to undo your jeans. She reached her hand past the band of your panties and towards your radiating heat. She grinned as her fingers were met with your slick juices and a needy moan worked its way up your throat.

"Mm, so wet for me already,” she said, blatantly pleased.

You kissed her deeply as you moved with her fingers. “How could I not be?”

“Well let’s give you what you need,” Jessie said as she took a step back and gave you a nod. You gave a coy smile, knowing what she wanted.

You hooked your fingers over the band of your jeans and rocked your hips gently from side to side as you slowly and sensually shimmied them down your legs. You gave a self-satisfied smile at the way she watched you hungrily.

“Where do you want me?” You asked, a lilt in your voice.

“Over here, beautiful,” she said as she reached out a hand, taking yours and guiding you back to your earlier position on the couch. You leaned over the arm of the couch, pushing your ass out teasingly as you looked over your shoulder at her.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” she said as she ran a hand appreciatively up your thigh before gripping your ass. “And look at this,” she tut as she ran two thick fingers along your slit through the fabric of your panties. “Soaked right through.”

“Ruined just for you,” you said. A gleam in her eye caught your attention.

“Ruined?” She asked with a slight cock of her head. She brought up her other hand to your panties and suddenly you saw her forearms flex and the sound of fabric ripping filled the room.

Your jaw fell as she ran her fingers through your folds, now unobstructed by the fabric. A thrill went through you and you let out a laugh both bewildered and excited. She caught your eye and gave you a smirk.

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” you assured her with a smile, subconsciously pushing your hips back towards her.

“So eager,” she commented as she pulled her strap through the slit in her boxers, running her hand up and down the length of it as she knelt one knee on the couch cushion. She gripped your hips, lifting you up and shifting you over a bit to better line herself up behind you.

“Mm, you are beyond beautiful,” she said in awe as she looked you over. The glistening of your wetness in the light caused her own arousal to pool further.

She gripped the strap and shifted her hips forward so the tip was positioned at your entrance. She smirked at the small moan you let out at the initial contact.

Her eyes were trained squarely on you as she carefully pushed forward. She bit her lip as you slowly start to spread, your entrance gripping the tip of her strap tightly. She took her time as she entered you, subtly pulling in and out to lube up appropriately and give you time to adjust.

“God, you’re incredible,” Jessie breathed as she watched in amazement as the “O” of your lips gradually grew larger as you swallowed more and more of her strap. “I can’t believe you can take all of this.”

“Mm, you fill me so good,” you affirmed, giving a slight roll of your hips. A crack echoed through the room as she slapped your ass, pulling a short moan from you.

Jessie let out a soft grunt as she finally sunk into you to the base. “You look so good with me stretching you out like this, baby girl.”

She gave a low moan as she saw you flex around her. She gripped your ass cheeks hard, flesh pushing up between her fingers and leaving faint prints as she released you.

She slowly pulled out so it was just the tip. You let out a mewling moan as she sunk back in.

“Such a good girl,” she praised as she ran a hand along the small of your back and drawing another needy whine from you.

“You’re so deep.”

“Just where I want to be,” Jessie said as she gripped your hips. She stayed in place for a couple of seconds longer before pulling out to the tip once more and this time thrusting to the hilt with greater force. She paused to caress you. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “I will. ‘Til then,” you rolled your hips back into her, “do what you want with me.”

Immediately, Jessie pulled out and slammed her hips back into you, drawing a heady whimper out of you. She then started pumping into you, adjusting her grip on your hips and pulling you back to meet her thrusts. The room was filled with the sound of her hips colliding into you as she began to rail you.

“You are dripping wet, baby,” Jessie said, voice shuddering as she thrust rapidly into you. She let out a huff of a laugh at how your mouth was slightly agape, head thrown back and unable to speak. “You’re taking this big cock so well, my girl.”

All you could do was reciprocate with a high moan.

Before you knew it, Jessie pushed you forward, pressing you into the arm of the couch as she hunched over you and started fucking you harder.

You braced your hands on the floor as she had you draped and folded over this couch as she rammed into you. Waves of pleasure radiated throughout your body with each stroke. Alternating sensations rushed through you, hollow wanting every time she pulled out, then quickly replaced with immense satisfaction as she filled you deeply to the brim.

A desperate whimper came from you as suddenly the warmth and weight of Jessie’s body on your back was gone, and she pulled out of you completely with a pop.

You snapped your head behind to look and saw her stand up off the couch momentarily, cheeks red and forehead beaded with sweat. Your eyes were drawn to her strap that glistened with your cum, a ring of it evident at the base of it, too.

She reached down wordlessly, grabbing you by the waist to pull you up. She sat down on the couch, legs splayed and her boxers pulled tight around her muscular thighs. She saw the way you eyed her and she flexed her thighs as she readjusted, giving you a wink.

She jerked the strap up and down, spreading your arousal over it further.

“I want you to ride me,” she told you and you straddled her requiring no further instruction, bracing yourself on her firm shoulders. She held the strap in place as you began to slowly lower yourself onto it.

You smiled at how her eyes glazed over as she watched the strap disappear inside of you. Your head fell back and your throat opened with a low moan as it filled you. She kneaded your thighs as you rest for a moment, getting used to the feeling again.

When you were ready, you lifted yourself up, eyes closing at the sensation going through you. Soon, you began rising and lowering yourself steadily on the strap.

“God, yes,” she breathed as her gaze shifted between the strap and your face. Her words fuelled you and you quickened your pace. Her jaw was slack and she breathed and watched you in reverie. “You look so good riding me like this.”

You held onto her shoulders as you moved, rolling your hips as you lowered yourself, grinding into her lap and soaking her boxers with your arousal.

You continued for a while but soon your thighs began to burn from the effort. Your legs shook at one point and she moved her hands from your waist and under you instead. She held you in her hands, fingers splaying across your ass cheeks and began lifting you up and down, letting you guide the pace.

Your eyes fell to her biceps, mesmerized by the way her muscles popped each time she lifted you.

“You like watching me, baby? Like the way I bounce you up and down on my cock?”

A whimper fell from your mouth. People would be shocked to know she spoke like this in bed, but that’s part of what drove you wild. She grinned at you as she bounced you up and down further, her now doing almost all the work as your legs gave out.

At one point, she lifted you and held you there as she simply started jackhammering into you. A long, wailing moan came from you as she used you and soon your moan became a cry as you began to spasm around her.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” she breathed as she continued to thrust into you and carry you through your orgasm.

When the waves of pleasure began to dissipate, you collapsed against her, her strap still filling and stretching you out. Her arms were quick to wrap around you and hold you to her. She peppered lingering kisses along your temple and rubbed your back as your chest heaved up and down.

She whispered to you as you recovered, but when you finally went to move your legs shook and gave out once more. She chuckled and kissed your cheek before lifting you off of her and gently setting you down next to her. You winced.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she offered with a wince. You gave a slow shake of your head, still exhausted. You took a breath, having to be focused and intentional as you spoke.

“Don’t be.” You swallowed, your mouth dry. “I love when you fuck me that good.”

She leaned in and kissed you sweetly, cupping your chin and caressing it with her thumb. “I’ll run you a bath.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #smut fic #woso smut #wlw smut #wlw #wlw nsft #sapphic smut

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lalacliffthorne · 3 months ago

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pumpkins, movie nights and a halloween party - autumn and spooky season headcanons (remastered) 🦇🎃💀

bc not writing anything to honor one of my favourite seasons and holidays would be a crime.

spooky season is one of your favourites

anything witchy and slightly shudder-inducing causes massive increases in your general happiness

so in true witchy fashion

Mor, Feyre and you decide that it will only truly be beginning of spooky season once you have carved jack'o'lanterns

you argue you can use them for Rhys's big annual Halloween party -

but really, you just want to carve pumpkins and make a mess

and so, the first week of October you meet at the flat

Feyre brings the pumpkins in two big wooden crates the two of you lug up the stairs

you have ordered a bunch of sharp knives for the occasion

and Mor brings drinks

tho, as she says as she places them on the counter with a meaningful eyebrow-raise

those are better left untouched until any activities including sharp objects are finished

"Huh."

You raise your head, and Mor squints.

"Is it me... or does this guy look a little more like Vlad the Impaled?"She turns her pumpkin, and both Feyre and you cackle. Mor grins and wiggles her brows.

You're sitting in the kitchen, the big table covered with a picknick blanket to protect the wood from the big bowls with stinky gourd intestines. Candles are flickering in the window, the speakers are connected to Feyre's phone and playing some halloween playlist, and there are mugs with steaming hot chocolate standing in front of all of you.

Feyre and Mor are perched on the couch, your best friend squinting in focus while Mor's tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth in concentration. You're sitting on one of the chairs, one leg pulled up as you happily saw a grimace into the pumpkin in front of you. You're going for a traditional evil grin. Feyre is carving some intricate side profile of a witch with a crooked hat, and Mor is winging it.

The front door opens, and you hear three pairs of heavy footsteps and the shuffle of jackets being shed. But you only raise your head once you hear Cassian's deep, familiar voice.

"Hello la-", he breaks off mid sentence and sniffles, his charming grin melting into a grimace. "The fuck -"

Rhys pushes past him, nose crunched as he heads for the window. "God, it stinks in here."

"Eh,", all three of you echo, brows crunched in focus.

"Who thought it was a good idea to supply you three with sharp knives?" Cassian leans into the doorframe, smirking lazily as he crosses his arms, and Mor raises her head, slowly beginning to smile sweetly.

"Why...?" She switches her grip on her knife to prop the handle onto the table and smiles brighter and wider, and there's a soft, amused huff that makes you raise your head again.

Azriel pushes past Cassian, one corner of his lips twitching as he throws his best friend a look.

"Dug yourself right into that one."

Your breath catches at the sight of your boyfriend. His hair is tousled from the wind outside, his shoulders straining against his t-shirt as he moves past Rhys.

Mor waves her knife at Cassian playfully, and you grin up at Azriel when he slowly comes to stand behind you. His hands close around the backrest, muscles shifting under his shirt, and straightening in your seat a little, you crane your neck to look up at him.

Your eyes find amber ones, warm in the flickering light of the candles, the golden specks twinkling in amusement when he lightly arches a brow at you, and your heart leaps happily.

You feel the muscles in Azriel's arms shift when you lean the back of your head against them and beam up at him. "Hi."

"Hi." Azriel's low, deep voice vibrates through you, slow and amused, and you feel your smile widen.

"They gave me a knife."

Somewhere to your left, Cassian begins to laugh, his shoulders shaking as his head falls back.

Azriel stares back down at you, and slowly, very slowly, a smirk spreads over his face, and your heart leaps against your ribs as a flutter rises in your chest at the sight of the creases in his cheeks and the lazy twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah?" His warm, deep voice trickles down your spine, and you widen your eyes and whisper loudly: "Actually, I just took it."

"Oh, dear God." Rhys turns his eyes towards the ceiling exasperatedly, and Mor cackles while Feyre starts rolling with laughter.

You beam up at Azriel, and your breath hitches when his lips curve and he sends you a light wink.

the finished pumpkins are placed all over the flat and the balcony, with candles flickering inside every evening

it's the cue for the start of several movie nights

for the ones where it's only you and the boys, you hole up in one of your rooms

it's usually yours

(Cass claims it's bc it smells the nicest

Rhys usually retorts that bc you don't leave smelly socks lying around)

but also 9/10 times, the ambience in your bed room is just cosiest

you light candles and fairy lights

drag several blankets into your room

and turn your bed into one big cozy pit

on the nights where it's the whole gang

you usually make a sleepover of it

you and Cass turn the living room into one big cozy landscape

you push the couch table to the side, drag mattresses from your rooms and push them into between the couches

then you fill everything with pillows and blankets

since the colder months have started, Rhys and you spend even more time in the kitchen

you use every opportunity you have, and the movie nights aren't any different

so usually, the flat smells like apples, cinnamon and butter when Feyre and Mor arrive

the latter and Cass have claimed spots as designated taste testers for new recipes

which means most times, Mor makes a beeline for the kitchen, grinning and pressing a smacking kiss onto your cheek in greeting before giggling happily at the food

Feyre usually brings non-baking related snacks, for which Cassian hugs the shit out of her

she still doesn't look like she's used to that yet

then, as it gets dark outside, you all change into pyjamas and huddle up in the living room

it's usually a bit of scooching and wiggling until everyone is comfortable

sometimes, you and the girls all curl up on the mattresses on the floor, propped up and surrounded by dozens of pillows

the boys all stretched out on the couches, Cassian and Azriel kicking at each other in a fight for the big blanket

other times, Rhys and Cass claim the mattresses while Feyre and Mor huddle up on one couch and you end up curled against Azriel's chest

his scarred hand slipped under your hoodie, his chest warm and solid against your back and his chin dropped against your head

you playing with his fingers and huddling into your blanket happily, your heart thrumming

there are candles lit everywhere, the window sills, the dining table, the shelves

Rhys keeps everyone supplied with big mugs full of steaming hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream

bowls with snacks distributed and handed back and forth between you

the actual choice of movie depends of who gets to the remote the quickest

you watch some classics like hocus pocus or corpse bride on the nights one of you girls get your turn

when Cassian is quickest, you end up buried under a blanket between Mor and Feyre with only your noses peeking out while a full on horror movie plays in the back

it's got its funny moments

but most of the time, you're hiding your face against Mor's shoulder, flinching everytime she squeaks

for more spooky vibes, Mor drags you to a Halloween themed dinner she's been dying to go to for two years now in the second week of October

it's at a restaurant located in the old part of the city, with small crammed tables under big stone arches

the place went all in with the decorating, and the menu holds all kind of spooky takes

you're very impressed with the life-like spider cake

you can even choose from several witchy potions/drinks and "brew" them yourselves

safe to say, you have the time of your lives

Rhys takes you to a screening of some old black and white horror movie a couple of days later

you deck yourself with drinks and snacks and occupy two of the fancy velvet chairs in the last row

your legs thrown over Rhys's knees so his long legs have space and your giggles barely suppressed against his shoulder while Rhys grins and steals your popcorn

like every year, spooky season mounts in Rhys's big annual halloween party

this year, he has decided, after a quick vote, that the big annual halloween party will not actually be that big

read: you'll hold it at the flat

which means, it will still be one hell of a party

just a bit less fancy

and a few less people

...

which just means more exclusive and still with a shit ton of people

bc who are we kidding

Rhys will still go all in - he's just not in the mood of the hassle that comes with a pompous location

and a smaller party means that he gets to create a fancy buffet

you go shopping for decorations a week before Halloween

Rain is pattering against the window, the smell of coffee hanging in the air as you giggle under your breath and try to fight off Azriel's fork that keeps lazily swiping pieces of pancake from your plate. You've made them for breakfast, with caramelised apples that made Cass groan when he came in earlier to get his water bottle before leaving for the gym. Now you're sitting at the table, the sky outside dark and grey and Azriel opposite of you, steaming mugs in front of you and Azriel's plate empty.

"Hey, darling?"

You raise your head at the sound of Rhys's deep voice, and Azriel easily swipes a whole fork of pancake and apples from your plate. You curse softly, and Rhys sticks his head through the kitchen door.

"Are you busy today?"

You glare at your boyfriend who lounges in his chair, his lips curving as he chews slowly, a lazy crease forming in his cheek when he sends you a light wink.

You glower, and Azriel's eyes twinkle in the warm light like he's trying not to laugh.

There's the sound of fingers snapping, and when both you and Azriel tear your eyes away from each other and look towards the door, Rhys smirks and leans a shoulder against the door.

"You know, I was going to ask whether you wanted to come shop for decorations for the party, but looking at the two of you, how am I supposed to tear you apart?"

In unison, Az and you roll your eyes and flip him off.

Rhys grins until he looks like the Cheshire Cat. "Look at that, you even share the same brain cell..."

"Why is he so mean?", you grumble, digging into the last bit of your pancakes.

"Probably in heat,", Azriel mumbles under his breath, his lips twitching when Rhys snorts and you fall into a giggle fit.

"Okay, seriously, sweetheart; I could use your help." Rhys pushes off the doorframe.

"I mean,", you pick up your mug and shrug, "technically, you could use Az's help too, to carry stuff." Innocently, you blink over the rim of your cup.

Azriel's eyes narrow, and he starts to glower at you.

You feel your lips twitch. Then you look over towards the door, catching Rhys's gaze, and at the same time, you both start to grin.

"C'mon, Azzie boy." Rhys's smirk is positively wicked when he winks at his best friend. "Bet your girlfriend's gonna be very happy with you if you tag along..."

Azriel's grumpy glare would make most people cower.

With Rhys, it just makes his grin grow until it nearly splits his face as he raises his brows.

Azriel's scowl deepens, then his eyes flicker towards you. He looks like he's regretting it the same second, because you're beaming at him, wide and cheeky as you raise your brows.

"Please...?"

Rhys laughs, his head falling back and shoulders shaking, and Azriel glares at you.

Still, you're almost sure to see an amused flicker in his eyes when he rolls them.

safe to say, when you leave the flat half an hour later, Azriel is behind you, wearing a thick jacket over his hoodie and raising his brows at you when you beam up at him

you're definitely sure you see the corners of his lips twitching lightly tho

Mor comes too, bc she's a sucker for shopping

and bc you need her car

Rhys has located the best shops for decoration in town

you and Mor get excited over and over again, eyes widening and squeezing each other's hands whenever you spy something new

Azriel just trails after you, a faintly amused expression on his face while Rhys chuckles at your exciement

at the first store, you buy loads of fake spiderwebs and dozens of big black spiders

also an array of skulls and skeleton hands you can use for candle holders and the buffet

Mor scares the crap out of you when she uses one of the hands to gently scratch the back of your head when you're not looking

you nearly die, darting into Azriel's chest

and Mor cackles for five whole minutes

Azriel's is so obviously trying not to laugh that his eyes crinkle at the corners as you bury your face in his chest

Rhys doesn't even try

at the next store, you get a whole bunch of candles, a whole armada floating candles you can hang off the ceiling and a ridiculous amount of paper bats

you get a giggle fit when Mor holds one up next to Azriel's head and contemplates the uncanny resemblance

the glare Azriel levels her with would make the biggest man cower

Mor just grins widely

you also find mugs shaped like black cauldrons and wine glasses with stems like skeletal hands for the bar

after lunch, Rhys makes a pit stop to confirm the rental of a fog machine

the store he's going to rent it from is big and with a massive load of things to rent, like human sized skeletons and witches

Mor pretends to dramatically waltz through one of the wide aisles, pulling you with her until you fall into fits of giggles

Azriel watches, dimple digging into his cheeks and eyes twinkling

Rhys decides to rent some spotlights as well to really make the fog shine and half a dozen of the big skeletons

then you're on your way again

Mor's car is pretty stuffed already at this point, but you make two more stops

at the first, you get a massive assortment of funkily shaped bottles and some stuff for the buffet

at the second, you buy table cloth, witches hats and some fake ravens

a couple of days later, Rhys and you go shopping for the food

you visit several supermarkets to get everything for the dozens of snacks he has planned, all spookily on theme

your pinterest has been great help when it comes to inspiration

you also get a massive amount of booze for the bar, including loads of glittering ones, a huge load of crushed ice and stuff for spooky garnish

the day before the party, Rhys and you spend in the kitchen

you make a little pre-party of it, with music and hot cider as you prepare most of the snacks

little spider cakes inspired by your and Mor's dinner, mummy sausage in a blanket, pomegranate chocolate skulls, candied apples that look like they might poison you if you try them, chocolate ghosts, monster munch popcorn -

the amount of candy eyeballs and melted marshmallows for webs you use is concerning

Feyre drops by in the late afternoon

Rhys flirts so unabashedly that after only ten minutes she's glaring at him while her cheeks are gleaming with a blush

but he doesn't seem deterred in the slightest

on the contrary

his grin only widens whenever she huffs at him

but you haven't invited her to play cupid (at least not solely)

while you and Rhys start filling the bottles you bought and cleaned with the varieties of alcohol, pimping some with some edible glitter

Feyre starts writing the etiquettes

everything gets a new, spookier, more witchy name, the actual name of the booze scribbled in the corner in Feyre's ornate handwriting

there's witch's tears, fairie's breath, dragon's flame, vampire venom -

she even draws little sketches on the labels before charring the edges of the thick paper and glueing them to the bottles accordingly

then she writes some spooky recipe suggestions you have found on instagram on the same kind of paper, drawing little doodles of ghosts, witches and cats all around them

witches' brew, midnight margaritas, ecto martini, vampire's dinner -

the options are endless

if there's anything you've learned from last year

it's to not leave the costume until a week before the party

even though it will be a smaller affair than the last one, you know Rhys will still go all out

and so you put the utmost care into your costume

first, Mor, Feyre and you spend an afternoon on the couch, browing pinterest and an array of online shops in search for ideas or center pieces

neither of you girls really has a plan at first

but then...

There's a flash of lightning, and when you raise your head, thunder cracks in the distance, rumbling and making you shiver happily.

Rain is pounding against the windows of the living room, and the candles flicker as Feyre hums absentmindedly to the music playing in the background. The mugs with hot chocolate you've made have been empty for quite a while now, but the warm, sweet scent still lingers in the air.

"What are you looking for?" Mor scrunches her brows and chews on her pen as she leans forward, browsing on your laptop.

"Not really sure?" You squint, adjusting your spot on the cushion on the floor while you slowly scroll through your pinterest on Rhys's tablet. Then you raise your brows and hold the tablet over your head. "I like this."

In unison, Feyre and Mor who sit behind you on the couch, lean in.

"Oh, I like that!" Feyre's eyes starts twinkling. "That actually fits with what I got so far."

"Huh." Mor squints at the screen. Then, suddenly, she slowly start to grin widely. "Guys. I've got an idea."

You crane your neck to look up at her, and Mor raises her brows, her grin growing. "What have we got here?"

Feyre crunches her brows. "Huh?"

Mor rolls her eyes before widening them. "Between all of us? We're the most iconic thing in mythology and spooky fiction - three women! We're the Fates, holding human life in our hands, we're the three faces of Hecate, the goddess of Magic, we're the Sanderson sisters -"

Both Feyre and you stare at her blankly.

Mor whips out her arms. "Dude, we're a coven!"

Both Feyre's and your eyes widen.

"Wait -"

"That's genuis!" Feyre beams. "We can all go as witches!"

"But those vibes!" You frantically point at your tablet.

"Exactly!" Mor is grinning widely. "We're dark, spooky, but elegant, alluring." She widens her eyes. "Think about it; silk, lace, dramatic silhouettes -"

You groan happily and turn on the spot, wiggling in excitement. "Okay, what are you thinking, all of us dresses or -"

as soon as you got the vibe down

dark, spooky, but elegant, alluring

you slowly work out the looks you want to go for

you scour several online stores for inspiration and end up ordering the base piece for your look

a few days later, you go shopping

for the vibe you're all going for, you decide to scour the plenty of vintage shops you all love first

at the first, Feyre finds a black dress with puffy sleeves that slide off her shoulders

you already ordered one piece of your planned costume; a tiered black cotton skirt

but at the next shop, you stumble upon a tight lace shirt with billowing sleeves

Mor finds you a black corset with embroidery all over the front a few stores later

along with the flowy, tiered black dress she decides to use as base for her costume

you buy some more lace for a cape Feyre is going to design for herself and some structured tights that look like overlapping spiderwebs for your costume

oh, and

as Mor puts it

"a shit ton of accessoires"

the day of Halloween all of you spend decoration the flat

Mor and Feyre show up for the late breakfast (pancakes with googly eyes and whipped cream ghosts)

after Azriel had to pull you out of bed and carry you into the kitchen

Cassian made you watch another horror movie and let's just say you didn't sleep all that much

then, after lots of coffee, hot chocolate and food

you begin to set up

Mor and Fey both have their costumes with them in big bags so they don't have to go home again

they stash them in your room before joining the rest of you

Mor pulls up her spooky autumn playlist, then you split into groups

Rhys disappears into the kitchen to prep the rest of the foods that aren't stored in the fridge yet, the decorations for the drinks, and to set up the bar

Mor starts to spread spiderwebs all over the rooms, Feyre trailing after her to carefully attach big black spiders in the webs

meanwhile, you begin distributing fake candles all over the flat

the windowsills and shelves, the couch table and the fireplace, even the floor -

Cassian and Azriel are tasked with everything that needs hanging up

big spiders dangling from thin cords everywhere, floating candles attached to fishing lines at different heights, and swarms of paper bats that sway lightly in the breeze

once Mor and Feyre are done, they start helping you sprinkle the rest of the decorations around

skulls and skeleton hands that carry murky glasses with unidentified contents that Mor brought

more spiders and bats sitting on all the possible vantage points

witches hats that sit atop the chairs, some ravens up on the shelf

and confetti in shape of tiny bats, spiders and cauldrons

"the only thing we're missing at this point is a black cat,", Mor comments when the big skeletons along with the fog machine and the spot lights are delivered at noon

"why, we got Azriel,", you throw back absendtmindedly, and Mor starts laughing

you put the skeletons in different corners and the guys set up the smoke machine while Feyre finds good places for the spot lights

then you help Rhys set up the basis for the buffet on the dining room table

you bought a big black velvet table cloth you spread out carefully

then you put up a couple of tall candelabras

on the table in the kitchen, Rhys has put up a big cauldon that actually steams

the flat is mostly done by 5 pm

and all of you are starving

Rhys orders a bunch of pizzas

Feyre starts to do Cassian's make up

his hair is pulled up messily as she starts to line his facial structures with a thin brush and white paint

Cassian catches your eyes and winks

you just grin and wink back

when the pizza arrives, you and Mor take turns feeding Feyre pieces, bc now her hands are smeared with black and white paint

it takes time -

in which the rest of you polish off four massive pizzas and Cassian whines whenever Feyre chides him for messing up her work when he takes massive bites of pizza

but after a whole lot of precision work

his whole face is turned into a ghostly white skeleton on shiny black paint

Feyre even painted spine bones down his throat

when she's done, you switch so she can actually eat properly

and you use the black paint you ordered specifically for this to paint the space between Cassian's teeth black

when he grins at you, you nearly topple backwards off the couch

both Rhys and Azriel haven't shared what they're dressing up as

tho in Azriel's case

it is more of a case of whether he's gonna dress up at all

at a little after 6, Mor drags you to your feet to get ready

you hole up in your room, shutting the door and putting on some music

outside, it's already dark, and you can see families and groups of children roaming the streets in the warm glow of the street lights

you end up sitting on the floor as you start curling Feyre's hair, giggling at the stories Mor tells

you carefully pin half of Feyre's hair up while she puts Mor's hair in soft waves and Mor does her own make up

the candles you lit on the windowsill are flickering

and it smells like apples and biscuits

Mor's eyeliner is sharp enough that you just wordlessly hand her your make up bag

Mor grins and squeezes your cheeks before getting to work

all the while, Feyre does your hair

then Mor does Feyre's make up as well while you lean against the bed, shaking with laughter at the grimaces Mor pulls to try and get Feyre to crack

when she's done, Mor disappears into the bathroom to get dressed first

"Guys."

Feyre and you raise your heads, and Mor grins and opens her arms.

"What d'you think?"

Feyre whistles lowly, and you raise your brows with a cheeky grin. "Hot."

Mor winks before doing a dramatic spin. Her lightweight flowy gown spins with her, billowing around her. It's so long, it sways around the ankles of her knee-high chunky boots when she comes to a still and grins, doing a happy, giddy wiggle.

"I didn't even notice the details before." You clamber to your feet to inspect the ruffles and the way they cleverly add layers and dimension to the fabric.

"I know!" Mor widens her eyes and happily swings her sleeves in front of her face, raising her brows. "I'm just gonna start wearing this day to day."

Feyre giggles as she picks up her clothes. "Grocery shopping is gonna be a blast."

Mor wiggles her brows and winks, then she grins and turns around to float out of the room. Feyre grins at you and follows her to disappear into the bathroom, and you close the door to get dressed yourself.

The tights you found at a drugstore sit snug against your legs as you slip into the black boots with the chunky heels that already resided in your closet. You bought them a few years ago with Mor, who lent a similar pair to Feyre as well. Then you straighten and carefully pin one side of your soft black skirt up, until it's rouched and gathered at your waist, and the side of your thigh is showing.

There's a light knock, and you make a face as you fight your way into your corset, nearly getting caught on your lace sleeve.

"Mor?" You grumble. "Can you help me with the corset, cause I'm not sure I can lace it up at the front -" You raise your head, and your heart catches in your throat.

In the mirror, you see Azriel leaning in the doorway. His hands are slipped into the pockets of his black jeans, and his shoulders are straining against his black t-shirt. His dark hair is curling and tousled, a strand falling into his forehead as his gaze slowly drags over your body, and something shifts in his gaze, grows warm and deep and heated.

He looks like he always does.

Except for one major change that makes your lips part and heart leap into your throat.

His eyes, always a warm shade of caramel, are now a deep, twinkling gold.

Something suddenly starts fluttering against your ribs.

One corner of Azriel's lips curves upwards. Then he sends you a slow, lazy smirk, and your heart topples and nearly stops beating when you catch the flash of sharp fangs.

Holy shit.

The smooth planes of his face are illuminated by the warm light, throwing shadows under his cheekbones and jaw as he pushes off the doorframe, and you watch in the mirror, your breath hitching with every inhale as he slowly walks towards you. His soundless, smooth gait somehow seems even more prowling than usual, and you have to keep yourself from swallowing violently when he comes to a half right behind you. His body towers over you in the mirror, and you can feel his body brush against your back when he shifts his weight, his bright eyes piercing yours before he lowers his head.

His warm fingers brush against your back, and through the lace, you shiver, your heart leaping into your throat.

Azriel throws you a look, and one corner of his lips twitches. Then he drops his gaze again and starts lacing up the back of your corset.

Your breath catches, and suddenly you feel very, very hot.

You're sure Azriel has to hear your heart pounding as he gently pulls the black silky ribbons tight, working his way from the top to the bottom. You're tempted to ask with a cheeky grin how he knows how to do this.

But you're afraid your voice won't listen.

There's a concentrated furrow between Azriel's brows as he carefully ties the ends of the ribbons in a bow, then he raises his eyes to meet yours in the mirror, and one corner of his lips quirk as he reaches up to lightly straighten one of the broad straps sitting on your shoulders.

"Good?" His deep, low voice vibrates through you and makes your heart leap high, and you swallow despite yourself and nod softly.

The curve to Azriel's lips deepens, and the ghost of a crease forms in his cheek when he sends you a slow, lazy smirk. The deceptively real looking fangs flash in the light, and suddenly, your skin tingles.

"Thanks." Your voice is soft and a little weak and catches in your throat when Azriel carefully reaches up to tuck some hair behind your ear.

He sends you a slow, light smirk, and somehow, you pull yourself together and grin back cheekily.

"Any specific thing you're supposed to be?"

Azriel shrugs lazily, raising his head and raising a brow. "Demon."

You blink, and suddenly, your throat is dry again.

"Right." Your voice is breathless and a little high, and Azriel's lips curve. Then his hands slide down to your waist, and gently, he tugs you around until you face him. Even in the high boots, you have to tilt your head back to look up at him, and something starts rising under your ribs, warm and pulsing when your chest brushes against Azriel's.

The crease in Azriel's cheek deepens as one corner of his lips curves into a light grin. Then he drops his head, and your heart tethers when his breath brushes over your skin.

His nose brushes against yours tantalizingly slow, then Azriel dips his head and kisses you.

A soft sound breaks from your throat, and you stretch, your hand sliding up to bury in Azriel's dark hair, the other clinging to his shirt as you kiss back, firm and just a little desperate.

The fangs graze your lip, and your breath catches. Your lips part, and Azriel makes a low sound deep in his chest, his hand coming up to slide into your hair and tilt your head back, and he kisses you deeper, harder, his chest pressing into yours as his tongue lazily maps yours.

"Dude!"

Feyre's indignant voice makes you pull back with a soft gasp, your fingers digging into Azriel's t-shirt, and he rolls his eyes and looks over his shoulder to glower at Feyre, but she just glowers back.

"Get your hands out of her hair, I worked hard on that!"

you somehow manage to pry yourself out of Azriel's grasp

your willpower must be magnificent

bc the way he's gazing down at you, his golden eyes piercing and heated and twinkling

makes your stomach throw loop after loop

you're glad Mor isn't the one who caught you

or that she hasn't applied your lipstick yet

Feyre shoos Azriel out of the room, and he lets her, just looking grumpy yet faintly amused

then she calls for Mor, and you somehow shake yourself out of the fast thrum of your heart and the pull in your lower stomach

Feyre looks spectacular

the black dress she's wearing has billowy sleeves that fall off her shoulders and a long tired skirt

she wears the corset you ended up ordering for her

black and with intricate stitching

and her tights glitter in the light whenever she moves

together, you lay last hand on your costumes

you put on the dozens of thin necklaces you own anyway

together with an assortment of rings and dangly earrings

Feyre does the same, marvelling at the manicure Mor has given all of you a couple of days earlier

it's a shade of such deep red, it nearly looks black

Mor adds deep, nearly black lipstick to your look and poufs up her hair

and you help Feyre add her lace cape that sits on her hair and falls over her back

then Mor pulls you to stand in front of the mirror, grinning

"we look good."

you really do

"the holy trinity of female spookiness." you grin and Feyre laughs, her shoulders shaking under her cape

Mor takes a picture of all of you

then she shoos you out of the room

Feyre goes to check if Cassian has managed to put on his t-shirt without smudging his make up

Mor goes to check on the buffet Rhys has erected in the mean time

and you make your way to the kitchen to see if you can help him with the rest of the snacks

the bar is already set up under spooky purple lights

all of your bottles next to the cauldron mugs, spooky wine glasses and other glassware

on the table, the steaming cauldron is surrounded by bowls and bowls with the biggest array of snacks possible

and Rhys is standing with his back to you, digging in the fridge

"You know, I was gonna ask if you need help, but -", you raise your brows, "looks like you're good."

Rhys appears from the depth of the fridge and turns his head towards you, and your lips part.

So that's where Azriel has the contacts from.

"What the -"

Rhys smirks, then he closes the fridge and raises an eyebrow, and you stare at him wide-eyed.

Damn.

Rhys is wearing expensive looking slacks, a shirt half unbuttoned that shows off his tones abs and chest and the tattoos snaking over his skin. His face looks flawless, more flawless than usual, his hair sits even better than usual, which you didn't think was possible, and his eyes -

"Holy shit." You gape, and Rhys winks.

His eyes have been sort of purple-ish since birth, which has been confirmed by one evening of baby photo stalking (which made for lot of laughter and teasing all around). It has fascinated you ever since you met him, but now, they're not just the usual deep blue. Instead, they're a stark, twinkling violet.

You almost ask what he's supposed to be. But then you catch a glimpse at his ears, and your mouth falls open even wider.

"Holy. Shit."

Rhys snorts when you immediately scurry forward to reach up and carefully touch the pointy ears that look so real, you nearly pull one just to see if it's actually attached.

"Where did you get that?"

"I have my ways." Rhys smirks down at you, and you blink before grinning.

"So what, you're like a hot, modern day elf?"

Rhys snorts.

"Basically. I wanted to do a whole Lord of the Rings elf thing first, but then -" His lips curve into a wicked smile. "Well, I don't know. I guess I liked this look better."

You blink and slowly start to grin back widely. "Yeah..."

You see why.

It really looks more like him.

at around 11 pm, the flat is stuffed to the brim

there are people everywhere

on the couches, the armchairs and the chairs, the floor and windowsills

the hall is packed just like the kitchen, and there are even loads of people out on the balcony, even tho it is fucking freezing

the buffet is a massive hit

it looks amazing, with the skulls and the themed food

the bar is just as popular

the music is making the floor vibrate, some Hallooween party playlist on shuffle that Mor has created for the occasion

you can tell that this party is also more excluse by just how elaborately everyone is dressed up

more have lost count of the times you have stopped people to compliment their outfits

you have seen more witches, dozens of sirens and vampires, some very fancy zombies -

Mor drags you and Feyre to dance more times than you can count

you twirl in circles, your skirts billowing, and your heart nearly explodes from how much its thrumming with happiness

whenever you focus, you can feel eyes on you

and whenever you look over your shoulder, you meet golden eyes trained on you from an armchair by the couches

but you also catch violet ones that are watching your best friend

every time, you slowly start to beam at their owner

and every time, you get back a huff, an easy smirk and a wink

cheeky bastard

you find yourself on the couch next to Cassian for a good half an hour, your legs dragged over his lap to save space and a big plate balanced on your knees as you try yourself through the whole buffet

Rhys drags you outside to breathe a little later, and you grin at him long enough that he rolls his eyes

"I'll do something about it eventually"

the way he grumbles it makes you actually believe him

tho you swear to yourself that if he doesn't get a move on soon, you'll actually have to play cupid

this has been going on for long enough in your opinion

and Mor's, judging by the way she smirks at her cousin a little later when the two of you catch a glimpse at Feyre and Rhys in the corner of the living room

deep in conversation, Rhys staring down at her with a wide smile while Feyre is laughing

"idiots,", Mor just says with a mischievous grin

then she drags you with her for a break in the kitchen where it's a little less crowded and you find a spot on the couch

Mor mixing you a series of spooky and very tasty drinks

she's a lot better at that than Rhys and you

at 2 am, the party is still at full swing when you make yourself into the living room

your eyes meet golden ones, and your heart leaps high

your already heated cheeks grow warmer, and your breath catches when Azriel lightly shifts in his seat, spreading his long legs a little wider in a silent invite

your lips start to curve until you smile brightly

then you slip through the crowd, dodging elbows and arms until you can slide into between Azriel's knees and plop down into the armchair with him

sliding into the space between him and the armrest, you giggle when Az slides his hand under your knee and pulls your legs up until they're hanging over the opposite armrest

his arm slides down your back and around your waist, and Azriel lazily sinks back in his seat, pulling you into his body

his golden eyes flicker over your face, and you prop your arm onto his shoulder and blink at him with a cheeky smile

the corner of Azriel's lips twitches

"yes?"

his deep, low voice vibrated through you, causing your heart to skip, and your smile widens

then you lean forward and whisper into his ear: "I'm gonna need help to get out of the corset later."

Azriel's grip on your leg tightens

he huffs gently

and when you pull back, he stares at you

one corner of his lips slowly curves upwards

then he gently pushes your legs off the armrest and straightens, his warm breath brushing over your neck and causing your heart to leap into your throat when he mumbles into your back

"get up."

you do not need him to be ask twice

the flat is finally quiet again by 4 am

Feyre, Mor and you are standing in the bathroom, all in pyjamas and giggling under your breath as you take off your make up

you're caught in that strange space between adrenaline, giddiness and complete exhaustion when you turn off the light in the hall

a paper bat brushes your head when you wave at Feyre and Mor who disappear into your room

then you slide into Azriel's room

The light of the bedside lamp dunks everything into a warm glow as you close the door behind you and turn around, and your heart skips gently.

Your clothes are still strewn all over the floor from earlier, mixed together with Azriel's. The bed is messy, sheets all over the place.

But what really makes your breath catch gently is Azriel laying on his back in the middle of the bed, shadows snaking over his bare torso and hair tousled as he watches with a tired twinkle in his eyes as you make your way over to the bed.

The contact lenses are gone, but as you slide under the blanket - you decide you prefer the warm amber twinkle.

Azriel's arm slides around your waist when you turn off the light, then he tugs you back into his body with easy strength that makes you giggle deliriously.

You feel his lips curve against your shoulder, then his grip tightens, and Azriel curls around you, until there's no place you can't feel him.

Your heart starts to flutter against your ribs, gentle and warm, growing even as your eyes grow heavy and you start to drift away into sleep, until there's a warm thrum in your chest.

Azriel's fingers starts to brush over your ribs, and you fall asleep to the feel of his nose buried at the back of your neck and his warm body pressed against yours.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @icey--stars @secretlyhers

@knmendiola @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds

@harrystylesfan2686 @ssmay123 @kalulakunundrum @brekkershadowsinger @acotar-lover

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madschiavelique · 2 years ago

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : miguel didn't like very much the way you left him all horny for you in the toilets during the unexpected mission, so once the anomalies have all been maintained, he decides to teach you proper manners

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, lots of tension, soft!dom miguel, quick boob job, cunnilingus, "it's too big", pnv sex, miguel teaches reader magic words, so much kissing i swear, no use of Y/N, biting, mention of scars (from fights, miguel's) - let me know if i forgot any !! word count : 7,7k

note : i'm sorry i took SO LONG writing this baby, but here it is (and not yet proofread but i couldn't wait hehehe). the end is corny i AM SORRY but it was already long and this is to keep a pretty open. thank u all so much for ur support !! we passed the 400 subscribers today and i'm literally jumping to the ceiling of happiness. this is the last part of the 4shot, i hope you liked it <33 i was super inspired by Shameless by The Weeknd (one of my favourite songs hehehe). enough of me talking, love u guys !!

the previous parts : 1 - love bite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission

tag list : @marit332 @coralineyouareinterribledanger @sunnyx07 @mamamiriamxo @l3laze @amy180801 @gojos-goth-gf @readingfan @cheezit-luv3rr @scaleniusrm @cowboyharrryy

Miguel hadn't followed you, so you decided to lure the creature back by calling out to it:

"You're really terrible at hide-and-seek, you know that?”

Suddenly, it turned towards you and charged at you as you leapt into the air to keep it at bay, at least long enough for Miguel to finish... what he had to do. The sound of his breathless voice replayed in your head, the heat in your cheeks rising. You propelled yourself silently up to a floor above, observing the behaviour of the dough.

The feel of his fangs on the skin of your neck, his tender kisses on your cheeks, the hard feel of his erection against your thigh as his claws pressed into the skin of it...

"Oh my god you're going to be the end of him!" exclaimed a small voice beside you.

The anomaly turned towards it at the same time as you: Lyla.

"Lyla?" you choked out, swivelling your head just in time to avoid the anomaly that had climbed extraordinarily nimbly to your floor.

"His pulse quickened, his body heat increased and his muscles contracted amazingly hard!" she chirped as you mimed shutting up or lowering her voice, but she wasn't listening and you started darting from floor to floor as she continued "You've got him completely wrapped around your finger! No pun intended."

"Please Lyla, keep it down!" you begged her, feeling like a huge red tomato as you blushed and above all hoping not to be chased away by this abomination.

"Oopsie," she smiled, placing a hand over her mouth.

The anomaly swung a ball of paste at you, and you narrowly avoided it as it crashed and exploded with power, splattering you as it went, a large drop smearing across your suit.

"I didn't know you had access to... all this," you muttered breathlessly as you ran down a corridor to get away from the unspeakable thing. "It doesn't matter... Yes, it does matter actually, how come?"

"Don't be angry, you've just given me what little fun I'm allowed to have," she said with a pout, "you know, programme life isn't always fun."

Out of breath, you let out a sigh that relaxed your shoulders with its depth. You shook your head for a moment.

"Well, we'll talk about it later, can you identify this for me?" you asked breathlessly, silently, as you spooned some of the substance and held it up to a small metal support on your watch, which lit up when you dropped a little on it.

"My pleasure, sugar," she said with a quick clap. "Hmm, that looks like a basic bread dough mixture to me. Flour, water, salt, yeast, not forgetting the anomaly gene, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun."

"It's true that I'm bursting with laughter," you say, putting both hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath. You looked at her for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek, hesitating before asking, "Is Miguel... Done?"

"Yep, he's on his way," she said, giving you an amused wink, and you couldn't help but let a little laugh slip from your nose.

"Right," you said, clearing your throat so the anomaly could hear, "I'm going to lure this thing towards the exit!" You could hear the oily, slimy sounds coming in your direction, turning to Lyla one last time to ask: "Make sure you send Miguel my location, okay?" you said as you started to trot off.

"Already done!" she replied, blowing you a kiss which she pressed onto her hand before disappearing in a cloud of pixels.

You ran on, stammering aloud to keep the beast at your heels: " Come this way! You know, I think you'd really like rock, I've got two friends who play really well, I think you'd love to meet them!"

The pile rumbled behind you. You leapt into the air, grabbing the glass dome and hanging upside down, standing with your arms crossed over your chest.

"No, really, I think you'd like it. Oh well! You've got a head that could listen to metal, plus you've got exactly the right mouth shape to sing it, you know."

It was rumbling from the ground, right underneath you.

Then, just above you, you felt a tap on the thin glass roof, and when you looked up, you saw Miguel. It was a funny sight, the way you were standing made it look like you were reflecting yourselves in a mirror.

"Oh, hi there," you smiled behind your mask, taking on a slight intonation as if you hadn't been the cause of his delay. "Did everything go well?"

He let out a desperate sigh, the red glasses on his suit narrowing, before simply saying:

"Something unexpected came up, it was very... frustrating. But I'll wait."

I'll wait. The very word made you gulp.

"Observations?" he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the anomaly just below you.

"It's dough, we'd just have to find something to bake it with," you suggested.

Outside there was a loud bang: the lorry Gwen and Hobie had been chasing had started to roll over, and the anomaly, just as alert as you and Miguel, leapt towards the first bay window to get out.

Gwen and Hobie seemed to have managed to deal with their anomaly, the truck was completely dented, sideways, and luckily for you, the oil from the truck was starting to spread on the ground. You got out, Miguel following to examine the situation. All it needed was a spark...

"I'll try to coat it with a bit of oil, find a lighter, a box of matches, whatever," he warned, before dashing off towards the pile of dough.

You looked around, and there, as luck would have it, was a convenience store. You leapt towards it. Managing to light a lighter with your costume on would be complicated, so you managed to find a box of matches, rushing towards the street again.

Miguel kept jumping up and down to coat the anomaly, and when he finally saw you coming, he shouted: "Light it up.

So you grabbed a match, struck it against the side of the box and threw it into the oil. You stepped aside and ran further to avoid taking any damage from the fire. It immediately licked at the anomaly, which let out horrible, high-pitched screams as the paste on its body cooked and smoked, turning golden and thinning little by little.

And so, you launched the multidimensional cell that had been given to you, and finally imprisoned the anomaly.

"I think 'the more the merrier' is a phrase I like less and less," said Gwen as you catalogued the anomalies.

"Are you kidding me? This was so much fun," said Peter. "It was like doing MMA!"

"Speak for yourself, we took care of the Magic Bus driver," Hobie huffed.

"I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud of our muffin," you agreed.

"You have to admit it smelled good," confirmed Pavitr.

Everything had gone well, Gwen had finished her exam period and you were all filling in your reports. Everything was going well, and everyone was pretty relaxed, except maybe you.

It was a pretty nasty trick you played on Miguel, leaving him like that, so close to the climax, and then leaving. And somewhere in there, you feared and waited impatiently for what was to come.

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. He seemed to be concentrating, but sometimes you could feel his gaze on you, insistent. You found him incredibly calm, and maybe it was just because he hid it well, but just to see him lose a little of that control, you managed to brush past him for a moment when no one was looking, your knuckles deliberately brushing his thigh before joining the others. Pretending to be interested in their conversation, you couldn't help but glance over at Miguel.

Death stare was probably the closest you could come to defining the look he was giving you at that moment, and a shiver of dread ran down your spine as you swallowed. He seemed to chew the inside of his cheek for a moment, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

You weren't going to get out of this alive, or entirely.

"Well, I don't know about you, but the lack of sleep knocked me out, so I'm going to bed, see you later!" said Gwen before leaving.

"Same here, see ya," said Hobie.

And successively, the only ones left were Peter, Miguel and you.

He waited patiently, with you beside him, until Peter had finished his report and, like all the others before him, had gone to sleep. The seconds seemed to stretch out painfully, every movement and possibility accentuated by the wait. Miguel seemed tense, and you had no idea whether Peter could feel it from his side too, but you could feel your skin tingling with anticipation.

Every moment, every second tickled your mind and body like tiny needles, Miguel's gaze resting insistently on yours.

"Well, that's not all, but I think we've all got better things to do than hang around making a report," Peter yawned. "Good night, sleep well."

Oh, it won't be sleep.

He then waved goodbye one last time, turning his back to you as he headed for the exit. Miguel turned to look at you, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back to look at you from an even higher angle.

The footsteps echoed around the room, fading away little by little as Miguel's eyes turned red, yours watching them and stifling a gasp. He took a single step closer, no more, but it was enough to intimidate you and for you to take a step backwards.

It was when the door finally closed behind Peter that he grabbed you powerfully around the waist and pinned you down on one of the desks, causing you to squeal in surprise as you widened your eyes for a moment, blinking frantically. In less time than it took to say 'empanada' Miguel had you completely under control, immobilising you faster than poison and more powerfully than a pair of handcuffs.

His nose wrinkled slightly.

"Did you enjoy your little act?" he asked, his tone extraordinarily calm, which made him all the more menacing. "Leaving me like that without finishing what you'd started?"

Your heart was racing, and suddenly just meeting his gaze seemed too powerful to maintain eye contact, so you turned your head to the side. Was it simply because you were embarrassed by your own little prank, or was it just that the intensity of his eyes on yours was too much? But Miguel wasn't going to have it any other way, so with one of his hands he grabbed your jaw and redirected it so that you were facing him.

"It's very rude not to look into someone's eyes when they're talking to you, you know that," he whispered, moving a little closer. "We're going to have to correct that, and teach you polite forms of address."

And you couldn't argue with that, because right now it wasn't a choice you had to make.

"Speaking of politeness, I realise that you haven't used any magic words so far for our little encounters," he said, his thumb pressing and digging into the skin of your cheek.

He moved a little closer, tilting his head to one side as you felt his nose brush against yours, moving a little closer still to feel his lips brush against yours, the simple touch of them sending little electric currents of excitement through you...

But nothing, he just grazed his lips against yours, not moving any further, but not backing away either. Your breaths collided softly, his eyes still fixed on yours with insistence.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice composed and contained, as you tried to free yourself a little from the hold his hand had on your jaw, to no avail.

His lips, so close to yours and yet so far away, gave you electrifying sensations, but you wanted more. You wanted the two of you to kiss, for your lips to become one again, for you to be able to offer him the body's 'I love you'.

So you tried to move a little closer, meeting his lips to satisfy your desire, no, your need. But he pulled back slightly, causing you to sigh in disappointment. No, you'd have to tell him.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice small but audible, as if you were pouring your desire into his plump lips.

A smile, the stretch of his lips pulling them a little further away from yours.

"Where," the question sounding more like a command.

His thumb eased a little in its pressure and caressed the skin of your cheek for a moment before sliding across your chin, settling just below your bottom lip.

"There," you replied, your desperation for more contact growing stronger by the second as the only thought on your mind was his kisses.

You wanted to taste that rainy, woody flavour on his lips again, and feel them assault your body with kisses.

"Only there?" he questioned, provoking your cravings even more as your impatience was felt almost painfully.

It didn't seem fair, he seemed to possess incredible composure and cold-blood as your veins pulsed through your body like lava flowing from the volcano of your heart.

The little game Miguel was playing with you almost felt like a little revenge. Could you blame him? He wanted all this as much as you did, but he liked balance, he liked things to be even, and he was making you pay for the advance you'd dared to take from him.

His thumb pressed against your plump lip, his skin barely brushing against it, and it felt like a thread sticking out with no way of pulling on it.

"Yes- No!" you moaned, feeling like a child who was denied a sweet treat, unable to hide your longing for more as his touch confused you, "everywhere."

His lips were parted, as close as ever, his warm breath spilling over yours. His thumb had moved up the curve of your lips to press against the volume of her, his eyes fixed on it.

"I didn't hear that properly," he said, his eyes returning to yours.

Their carmine colour reflected your face: eyebrows slanted back, eyes almost watery, his thumb resting on your lips as he continued to caress it mathematically to elicit a reaction from you.

You tried to squirm away for a moment, but Miguel's hand on your waist held you in place with incredible ease.

He raised an eyebrow, obviously your attempt was in vain, he hadn't started hand-to-hand training the day before like you had, he'd been an ace at physical power and combat for much longer, so of course he could immobilise you in less than no time and much less delicately if the mood took him.

His lips brushed yours a little closer, and you could almost feel them completely. But this tiny glimpse of heaven wasn't granted to you, and you whimpered for a moment before finally just saying:

"Kiss me," you whined, "please."

His eyes crinkled with his smile.

"Mira que buena."

He finally kissed you, and it was like you had taken cotton candy in your mouth and as it melted you could feel all the little crystals of sugar that were hidden by the fluffiness of the sweet, a moan of relief vibrating from your lips against his lips.

Millions of tiny sparkles crackled under your skin, rising to the surface like champagne bubbles as Miguel cupped your face and kissed you. He took your lips as if you were holding the air that allowed him to breathe, his hand going round your side to slip under your back, pressing against your pelvis to bring it close to his.

He bit your lower lip lightly before pulling away, his half-closed eyes looking into yours again. His hand came to caress your cheekbone gently, with a tenderness that was almost unlike anything he had ever offered you before.

"Tell me more about these desires you mentioned.”

Your breath caught slightly, and you suddenly felt your face heat up fiercely, as if you were leaning over the hearth of a fireplace, its fire licking your face and your being from afar. You swallowed, formulating out loud your desires, all those thoughts you'd had about him even after your meeting at the Conditioning Centre and what had happened in the cabin, seemed difficult.

"Come on, don't be scared," he murmured before leaning over to kiss your forehead gently, offering you soft, sweet words to help you get the burning out of your soul.

All those thoughts you'd had, those warm nights during that week when you'd imagined the feel of his fingers, his lips, the sweet words that interested you as he searched inside you to expose you to him emotionally, all of them could be said, especially the one that was vibrating immensely inside you at the moment.

"I want... I want you to..."

You had the impression that the words you were about to say would be like throwing a tiny stone into still water, like stepping on ice and feeling it crack, like throwing alcohol into the fireplace that was warming you up.

The hand that was resting on your cheek ran down your neck, brushing your chest as it slid to your hip and slid all the way down to your thigh, stopping in its descent at that very spot, his hand gripping it.

"Hmm?" he asked, his humming vibrating against the skin of your cheek and tickling you.

You bit the inside of your lip, your teeth pressing into your flesh and trapping some of the wet skin against your bottom teeth. You released this clutch with a gasp as your voice dropped to a whisper when you whispered :

"I want you to fuck me."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, an eyebrow raised, his proud grin stretching across his cheek as his lip parted wide enough to reveal his fangs. He came to kiss your cheek, his soft lips caressing it as his lashes offered you butterfly kisses.

His grip on your thigh softened, his thumb making circular movements against your covered skin as a warm cloud began to form in your lower belly.

"Say that again," he said, his breath landing on your neck as his thumb began to move slightly up your inner thigh.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the simple sensation of his fingers on your body caressed you sublimely, a sigh of ease slipping from your lips. Miguel then took the opportunity to kiss the corner of your jaw, laying a trail of kisses that mixed sweetness and hunger, kissing and biting your skin. He lowered his lips a little further down your neck and kissed you lazily, the coolness of his lips meeting the fire burning at the back of your head. His lips reached a sensitive corner, causing you to let out a moan.

You moistened your lips, your cheeks burning as Miguel's fingers traced the sensitive skin of your thigh and his other hand rested on the small of your back, close to the cloud of heat.

And he expected you, with all these delicious distractions, to be able to string a sentence together properly and clearly. So you tried to speak louder, swallowing before saying:

"I want you to fuck me."

His lips came away from your neck, just brushing your ear before coming back to face you. The red of his eyes was deep, hungry, but above all attentive to your every move, which made him even more intimidating. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel them moving close to your skin as he spoke.

"There must be something with my hear because I can't hear properly what you said," he said, his tone a little less contained than he had managed to convey before, less composed, "say it louder."

His fingers continued their trajectory, very close to you, to where your desires came from, the knot in your lower abdomen tightening even though he never reached the spot. So this was the intense despair he'd felt earlier? The pain of his desire overcoming his thought and logic in the simple hope that he would be touched to turn the pain into sweetness?

You tried to move your hips a little, in the simple hope that he might go further, touch you, but he steadied you in an instant with his hand on your back, making you let out a little cry of longing.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze meeting his for a moment, and you saw it in the reflection of his eyes: the breadth of your desire spreading through your whole body.

You breathed in, gathering your strength and thoughts to say, "I want you to-"

His hand went up your back to the nape of your neck and traced up and down your spine, your body undulating uncontrollably as you concluded with a strangled sigh:

"Fuck me, please."

His carmine eyes watched you through his long black lashes, a proud sneer stretching his lips, your request seemed to have pleased him greatly.

If you had something to ask him, you might as well ask him politely. He tilted his head to one side, the light illuminating his jaw over his massive shoulder, it was so sharp it could have cut glass. Did he have any idea of the hold he had over you?

"Muy bien, bien hecho, muñeca," he murmured before kissing you again, gently.

His kiss was demanding, hungry, eager for your lips to be captured by his. Your hands, until now too afraid to touch anything or attempt any gesture, were tempted by the need to touch him in turn. They came to rest on his face, cupping it as he devoured your mouth relentlessly, his kiss a mixture of thirst, craving and the occasional sensation of his canines scratching your skin.

His thumb had moved up to your groin, deliberately avoiding and brushing very close to the part you'd been dreaming of him touching. Both his hands were now on your hips, gripping them to draw them to his.

And the electrifying sensation of his erection meeting in a single touch the excitement of your cunt that had grown inside you caused you both to moan together.

Your hand snaked through his hair, his sighs of comfort rushing into the depths of your body, blowing on the already burning fire inside you making it blaze and shine. His pelvis had begun to undulate against yours, the friction he was exerting against your covered flesh, against your throbbing clit, sending sparks throughout your body.

"Coño," he let out between kisses, one of his hands gripping your hip a little tighter to pull you closer to him and hold you in place while the other moved up your body like ivy on a statue, pressing against the back of your neck so that you were even closer. He wanted to eliminate any space between you, and you wanted it just as much, arching your body to his touch.

The kiss went from gentle to passionate, from passionate to hungry, and from hungry to needing more. Your tongues exchanged a waltz, and the next moment Miguel was back at your neck as your hand rested on his hip.

You needed more closeness, more of everything, but less clothing. He pulled you in again, straightening you up so that you ended up sitting on the desk, both your mouths still dancing.

He placed both hands firmly under your thighs, ready to lift you up.

"Hang on," he whispered between two kisses.

Without missing a beat you wrapped your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he lifted you with incredible ease, heading for a door at the back of the room: Miguel's quarters.

To avoid being bothered by anything during his precious, absent sleep, Miguel didn't belong to any of the dormitories, sleeping in secluded quarters. One of his hands came up to grip one of your buttocks, grasping it with his full hand and kneading it, a little hum of pleasure vibrating from your lips against his as you nibbled on it. You kissed his cheek, tracing his jaw with your wet skin.

As he depixelised his hand from his suit and placed it on the digital recognition pad, you gently kissed his neck, a rumble rising in his throat, a mixture of threat and plea for patience. But how could you still be patient? It was impossible, you were each other's tinder box and lighter.

As soon as the airlock opened, he came to kiss you dangerously, not tiring for a moment of the sensation of your lips caught between his. He walked quickly and eagerly, his erratic breathing colliding with your warm skin.

You rounded a corner, and the familiar sensation of a mattress under your back met you almost brutally. You were out of breath, lying back, looking at Miguel.

He stood there, looking down at you. His hair was dishevelled from the passage of your hands, his eyes shining like two rubies in the half-light, watching you hungrily. He towered over you, dominating you with his size and power. You shuddered, because at the moment he looked like a predator facing the prey he was about to devour.

He chuckled, moving closer as he put one knee on the mattress, one of his hands coming to rest beside your head, leaning gently over you, crawling up to spread your thighs as his face came level with yours.

And it was with the sensitivity that only lips possess that he whispered to you:

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," his mouth hungrily came to reclaim yours, his other hand sliding up your waist to reach your hip and hold it in place as he consumed you.

You were in his grip, entranced, trapped in the web of desire he had woven in your mind, every thread of which you touched bringing the spider back to its prey.

His hand came up to your head and nestled under the nape of your neck, looking for the zip to take off your suit. You helped him, pressing a little harder against his lips in your kisses as you raised your head to help him pull it off.

He found it, and you could feel with what composure he was pulling it. You knew perfectly well that if it had only been up to him, your suit would have been ripped to shreds and it would have been impossible to reassemble it properly and put it back together in one piece. But he was holding back, with difficulty.

The sensation of all those little metal teeth coming loose against your back and letting your abundantly heated skin breathe sent tingles through each of your ribs and down your spine, your back arching all the more at the sensation. Maybe having absolutely nothing under your costume could be complicated in certain situations, but it had never been as practical or as pleasant as it was right now. And Miguel seemed to agree.

His hand came to pull at the fabric, exposing your shoulder, and feeling his fingers run over it made you shiver. He continued to pull gently, your chest meeting the cool air until your breasts were bare.

He broke away from your lips for a moment, watching your skin like a flame and its enchanted dance. And you were burning, your whole body aflame with his touch, his kisses, his eyes. You couldn't undress him on your side, his costume knew no beginning or end other than pixels, and you found that profoundly unfair.

Then, very gently, his hand came to hover over your skin. It barely grazed, not even touching it, passing over the roundness of your shoulder, following your collarbone up to your cheek. He placed his hand on it, and it was as if your body was a diamond, every facet of which was illuminated by the light from his hand.

"Tan linda," he whispered, nestling back into the crook of your neck, kissing the warm, tender skin there. His kisses trailed down to your collarbone, sucking on your skin from time to time to reveal violet and pink flowers.

You hummed with delight under his touch, your body lighting up and glowing a little more with every touch of his lips against your skin. They came to rest between the valley of your breasts, his red eyes meeting yours as, while one of his hands pulled a little harder on the part of your suit that was still in place, his own suit began to depixel as he straightened up to face you.

Lips parted, you watched his body reveal itself, his tanned torso sculpted like a god. But above all, you couldn't help letting your eyes wander along the countless scars that marked his body.

Various shapes were mixed in, cuts, burns, strange, sinuous lines, all marking the traces of past dangers. And he had survived them all.

Gently, your hand came to rest on his cheek, pressing against your touch and kissing your palm as you let your fingers move down his torso. You let your fingertips trace a scar, caressing it gently, Miguel's breath shuddering against your skin for a moment.

Your breath caught in your throat as his bare hand grazed the skin of one of your tits, his thumb gently tracing the bouncing skin. His lips moved down the ridge of your breasts, kissing the soft, tender skin of it.

He looked into your eyes as he stuck out his tongue and ran it over your nipple slowly, the warmth of his saliva and the roughness of his muscle sending all sorts of little stars into your body.

It was as if your flesh was bare soil, and with his hands he brought forth flowers of many colours and intoxicating scents that enchanted you, making you drunk with his touch and the colours he painted under your skin.

His tongue traced the separation between your skin and your nipple, his hand resting on the other, pressing it gently between his large fingers. Then he kissed it gently, sucking lightly as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. And as the moans multiplied between your lips, he stopped, a smile stretching his lips as his hand dripped down your waist and clutched the rest of your costume.

As he pulled it off, in a slow motion, he kissed his way down your belly, letting buds of caress blossom on your body. Reaching below your navel, he exchanged a glance with you, seeking approval.

As a simple response, you raised your hips, and he gently pulled the rest of the costume down, his bare fingers brushing your buttocks and thighs as he pulled until you were covered by nothing but your panties.

One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other settled on your waist, lazily tracing your skin until it reached your groin, stopping there, drawing indescribable patterns as the fire in your lower belly heated up.

He stayed there, eyes riveted on yours, his other hand moving slightly up your inner thighs but not reaching your core either. The tingles it sent through your being were delicious, but you were getting impatient. Your pussy was almost starting to ache from the lack of touch and contact.

"Lower..." you murmured, your desires taking possession of your body, your reason silenced.

He tilted his head to one side, and the same words you'd said to him earlier in the bathroom came back to you:

"Say that again."

A grunt of frustration rattled against your teeth. Your own cards had just been used against you in your own game, and you had no say in the matter. His fingers continued to draw as if nothing had happened, sometimes reaching for half a second a little lower than where they were staying. You needed more.

"Touch me lower," you said, looking into his red eyes, which raised an eyebrow as if to say 'aren't you forgetting something?', so you punctuated your sentence with a little "please."

He smiled, dark, his tongue passing over his canine and his lip as he ran his fingers between your skin and the elastic of your panties, pulling the latter so that only the air, his hands and his warm breath covered you.

His fingers returned to your now naked groin, and he gently traced your skin, finally coming to touch your cunt, a sigh of respite taking hold of your chest as he gently passed a single finger between your lips.

"Hmm?" he hummed, raising his fingers to the height of his head, observing the sticky substance that glued to his skin, "would you look at that." Evidence of your arousal was placed before your eyes, "Am I the reason you're so wet ?"

Your head tucked into your shoulders, your cheeks heating intensely as he smiled wider.

"Tengo suerte," he murmured as his finger returned to your entrance, coating itself in more of your wetness as his thumb settled on your clit, making slow, hypnotic circular movements that tightened the knot in your lower abdomen.

Your hands clutched the sheets as you drew in a shaky breath, but he reached down and guided one of them to his hair, which you grabbed without hesitation.

"Like it when I touch you there?" he asked, echoing the words you had said to him in the cabin.

"Mhm," you agreed, unable to formulate a coherent sentence, inhaling more air as he pushed in his first finger.

His hands were big, his fingers thick, and he manipulated them all to perfection. His finger was streching you out, undulating to awaken exceptional sensations in you.

"How does that feel?" he asked, his tone composed and almost teasing in the way he asked you things.

"Good," you assented as he inserted a second finger, causing you to gasp out a moan, your eyelids closing of their own accord.

His fingers worked you out, curving up to touch the spot that made you see stars.

"Keeps your eyes on me," he whispered as his head lowered against your cunt, his hot breath falling against your damp skin, "I want you to see me."

With difficulty you complied, and he brought his tongue against your pussy, a moan of pleasure rising from your throat. The sensation of his hot, wet tongue licking your clit made your whole body burn.

Your hand gripped his hair more firmly, needing something to anchor it so that you didn't succumb entirely to all your vices. Miguel groaned at this gesture, and the sensation of his vibrant voice on your sensitive skin almost made you come in an instant.

Your pelvis moved of its own accord, and Miguel immediately grabbed it to immobilise you, his fingers and tongue working together to make you moan even more.

The sight reminded you immensely of the bullet incident: his eyes reddened, his tongue and lips resting on you while your fingers were knotted in his hair.

You were beginning to feel as if you were flying away, but it was at that precise moment that Miguel stopped, pulling his fingers out and his mouth away. You whimpered, a whiney complaint filling your mouth as you laid your head back in disappointment on the pillow, Miguel moving up to your face.

"I just wanted to make sure you'd know what it feels like."

The torment was unbearable, and you bit your lips for fear that, on the instant, you might send an insult into his face.

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow, "did I make you mad?"

His tone seemed almost condescending, addressing you as if you were a child. He brought his face close to yours, his eyes falling on your lips.

"Want me to fuck you, querida?" he questioned, his lips brushing yours "want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, simply nodding in response as his simple words managed to make your hair stand on end.

"Use your words," he said simply.

"Yes," you said, beginning to learn from his lessons, trying to find more strength in your voice, "fuck me, please."

He nodded, proud.

"Good," he said, bringing his two fingers, still covered with yourself, close to your lips, "open up."

Timidly, you parted your lips.

"Wider," he ordered in a calm voice.

You obeyed, and soon felt his moist fingers on your tongue. You licked them, his eyes watching with great interest. They were thick and having them both in your mouth wasn't easy, but by relaxing your jaw you eventually managed to suck them off properly, your eyes returning to his, feverish with desire.

Without further ado, he removed his fingers from your mouth and came to kiss your lips, hungry. The entre-met you had offered him wasn't enough, and he was fasting from it to be able to taste all the other parts of you that were still untouched by his lips.

His naked erection pressed against your cunt, and your hips undulated against the sensation as you let out an excited moan against his lips, your walls closing in on nothing.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he splayed his hand across your lower back, undoing the kiss to press his forehead against yours. He adjusted his cock in front of your entrance, coating himself in your juices, and just by that gesture and the memory of your hands, you knew it would be too much.

"Miguel it's," you breathed softly against him, "it's too big. I'll never-" but he cut you off.

"I'm sure you can take it, muñeca," he murmured softly, kissing your cheek.

He returned to kiss your lips, then asked before doing anything else:

"Ready?"

You inhaled softly, your eyes plunging into the red of his, before murmuring against his lips:

"Ready."

He nodded, coming to kiss you chastely before lining up his cock and thrusting in. A moan slipped from your lips, he was big, way too big.

"Shh," he soothed, kissing your temple, "you're tense cariño, breathe through your nose."

So you followed his instructions, trying to relax as much as possible as your nails on his back began to dig into his flesh. Your breath was coming in shaky gasps, your teeth sinking into your lip as Miguel whispered:

"You're doing so well," his hands gently caressing your arched back and thigh.

His voice relaxed you, your breathing a little more settled as he thrust deeper, stretching you out. He kissed your forehead tenderly, brushing the tiny tear from the corner of your eye with his lips.

"Just like that," he groaned, finally managing to fill you completely, "look at you taking me so well.

He kissed your lips gently, caressing the skin of your side. He kissed your cheek, then the side of your neck, sucking in one more mark.

Full, that's how you felt. He stretched you out fully, filling every inch of your being, meeting the warm cloud as he kissed you to contrast the sensation. And soon enough, you relaxed a little more.

"Are you ready for me to move?" he murmured, his thumb resting on your cheek.

As a simple response, breathing softly, you moved your hips on him. He smiled, kissing your lips softly as he pulled back slightly to push into you again, a shaky breath mingling with a moan that he swallowed from your lips.

His tongue came to meet yours, curling around it, sucking it between his lips tenderly as he took a slow rhythm to get you used to him.

He sprinkled kisses across your face, sloppy ones running over your warm naked skin, inevitably coming back to your neck, nibbling lightly. He traced your collarbone with his lips, running along it until he reached your shoulder, where the rounded skin was bitten and a moan was torn from your lips.

His hand came to take your arm, kissing the skin gently as he raised it, straightening slightly to manipulate and kiss it better.

His lips came to linger on the inner skin of your arms, depositing his lips gently as he traced that softened area, his pelvis taking on a slightly faster rhythm.

After the little treatment he'd given you, you weren't going to last long, so you let yourself be carried and touched by his adoring lips.

His tongue traced the skin on the inside of your wrist, his teeth grazing the separation between your hand and it. He came to kiss your palm, then delicately placed his lips on each of your knuckles before pressing it against his cheek.

Your thumb caressed it, and he surrendered to your touch. He then guided it to the side of your head, his fingers nestling in the crack of yours until your hands were intertwined.

"Qué guapa," he breathed.

His rhythm quickened, and you could feel the knot in your belly gradually tightening as Miguel's thrusting in and out of you became sublime, and the sounds you were making multiplied as he hit all the right spots.

Your fingers tightened on Miguel's hand as your other reached down his back to grip his arm, squeezing hard as you felt you were going to come.

"Miguel," you sobbed as he returned to kiss your lips, "I'm close."

It was a miracle you managed to get those few words right. The hand that wasn't intertwined with yours came to cup your face before moving down your body to grab your hip, a deep sigh escaping from his throat.

And you felt his canine gently bite your lip as the knot burst in your lower belly and a moan echoed in your throat. It was like a bolt of lightning striking against metal, spreading out in a powerful electric shock in your entire body as the pleasure beat like a second heart. Miguel's voice growled against your skin as you closed around him spasmodically, your nails clawing at his arm.

You twitched, Miguel kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, your lips. You were slowly coming down from your clouds, the sensations you had gradually fading.

"Tan buena..." he whispered, close to your lips, "but I'm not done with you yet.”

His fingers loosened from yours as he grabbed your arms with both hands to pull you against him and straighten you up. He was sitting, still inside you, making you sit on top of him, facing him.

One of his hands grabbed one of your buttocks, guiding you to move back and forth on him, while his other was on your back, caressing it.

He came to attack your lips again, the sound of your two bodies meeting clapping in the air as you felt completely disorientated by the pleasure. The speed with which he entered you was exceptional, and the sensations he triggered were even more so.

His lips moved over the back of your neck, then settled on your shoulder, his breathing becoming more and more jerky.

You tilted your head back, your voice interspersed with the feeling of him pounding you, the heat in your belly not entirely gone and tightening again.

Then the hand that had been resting on your back slipped between your two bodies and caressed your clit, your breath catching as you felt the cloud spread once more to the small of your back.

Miguel's voice grew less hushed as his rhythm quickened, his fingers working your clit with speed as you felt the climax building up again.

And all at once, you felt his fangs penetrate your beloved as he gave a powerful thrust, and you both came. The earth stopped spinning as you felt like you'd been sent miles above the clouds, both your bodies warm against each other, both of you breathless.

Everything seemed soft, floating, an inner peace had taken hold of both of you as you came down from this peak of pleasure.

He held you against him gently, running his tongue over the two slits he'd made in your skin. He pulled out of you, placing you so gently and carefully on the mattress that it was as if he had a spider's web in his hands.

You snuggled up to him, and he pulled the blanket over you as he kissed you again.

You felt safe here, cuddled in his huge arms that wrapped around you, his hands caressing your body with pure adoration and softness.

You kissed his chest, on one of his scars, and he breathed a profound sigh.

"How did you know?" he whispered.

The end of his question never came, but it was simple: how did you know I wanted to be kissed here? Probably no one had ever touched him this way, here, like that.

"There's nothing like tenderness to soothe the scars." you smiled.

He breathed out, his eyes had returned to their natural brown. He pressed you a little closer to him, his eyes locked in yours. Blue words are the ones you say with your eyes, when your lips are too tired.

"Maybe we'll have to find a name for this pseudo-friendship?" he smiled, the little chat you'd had on the first mission coming back to you as you smiled and kissed him sweetly.

"Why when we already have two letters?" you replied, placing your hand on his cheek, kissing your palm as his hand caressed your waist.

"Two letters?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah," you confirmed, your voice becoming a whisper, "us."

He gave you a candid, sincere smile before kissing your lips softly.

"Yes," he nodded, "we could make a great us, muñeca."

Us, two letters, a whole world.

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stvrgxsm · 2 months ago

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long nights, soft days | joel miller [1.2k]

joel comforts reader while she is on her period.

c: references to blood, periods.

beams of late-afternoon sunshine flowed in from the window, bathing the room in a buttery glow.

it wasn’t often that you allowed yourself to sleep in so much, but then again, last night had been… a lot. joel could get insatiable sometimes, and there were usually little to no warning signs. when he did get like that, you slept for far longer than normal.

but this time, when you tried to roll over, all you felt was warmth pooling between your legs. familiar and sticky, you instantly knew what was going on.

unfortunately, the end of the world didn’t mean the end of periods.

you clamped your legs shut and willed yourself to not feel the twinges of pain, both in your core and legs. one was biology. the other was joel.

speaking of joel… the room was empty, but judging by the angle of the sun, he should have been home already. you stilled and listened for a moment. sure enough, pots and pans clanging in the kitchen downstairs alerted you to his presence.

a dull ache settled over your stomach, and you squeezed your eyes shut, groaning in pain. it didn’t even occur to you that ellie could still be home, or that she would hear you.

so when she burst into the room, you sat up in shock, your muscles cramping again. “woah. lady troubles?” she asked, hands up in a placating gesture.

“no– i mean, yes. can you just– can you help me to the bathroom?”

“yeah, of course. hold on, let me–” she ducked out of the bedroom, and a moment later, you heard her yell, “joel! she’s awake! can you bring up some pain meds?” then she was back, her arm looped under yours and wrapped around your back, supporting most of your weight. the two of you made an odd pair, hobbling to the bathroom.

your period had always been particularly bad. maybe if there were no infected, you would try to seek a diagnosis, but as it was, it hardly seemed important. there were more pressing issues to deal with.

like your family. you’d been with joel and ellie for a good six months, and nothing felt better than being known by them. ellie had started bringing you the shiny bits of glass she encountered on her outings in jackson, and joel…

well, joel was your partner. in more ways than one. he supported you, he cared about you, and he bandaged your wounds. and he fucked you stupid with increasing frequency, but that’s beside the point.

you took a seat on the lip of the bathtub and watched ellie gather some things she thought you might need. “do you prefer pads or tampons?”

“either. whatever. which do you have less of?”

she looked at you appraisingly. “i’ll just put both in here.”

“what are you making?”

“it’s a basket of period supply stuff. for you to keep next to you in bed.”

“oh. thank you, that’s– that’s really sweet of you.”

“yeah, of course.” she had to jump to reach the next item– chocolate from the top shelf. “i know how hard these are for you.”

before you could respond, joel had shouldered his way into the master bathroom. his eyes skipped over ellie completely and landed on you. his brow furrowed. “y’okay, hon?”

“she’s on her period.”

“ellie!” he scolded, the southern twang especially obvious in his distress.

“what? it’s true!”

a brief smile flashed across your face, but it was dimmed by another layer of pain settling on top of the first. joel noticed; he always did.

“c’mon, honey. let’s get you to bed.” he reached for you with both arms, and you thought for a moment he was going to help you walk, like ellie had. but suddenly he was holding you against his chest, your arms wrapped around his neck.

“joel!”

ellie laughed from somewhere behind you.

“what?” he asked innocently.

then he was laying you down on your bed gently, wincing with you at the change in position. “it’s okay, sweet thing, i’m so sorry.”

“do you have those pain meds?”

his eyes brightened with the reminder, and one of his hands went into his pocket to retrieve a small bottle of white pills. “ibuprofen,” he said, placing two of them into your open palm.

“thank you.”

“of course.” he looked over the room for a moment, then back at you and the bed. “where’s your water?”

“i don’t– i don’t have any.”

you shrunk into the bed under his withering gaze. “baby. what did i tell you?”

“i have to take care of myself?”

“yes.” he heaved a long-suffering sigh, and you smiled up at him. “i’ll get you a glass. don’t dry-swallow those.”

you nodded, cradling them in your open palms reverently. he disappeared out the door, but you could still hear his footsteps on the stairs and in the kitchen. he had heavy footfalls; part of you thought you would be able to hear him even if he was outside.

ellie brought the basket into your room. “okay, this has everything you might need. pads, tampons, a menstrual cup, chocolate, my heating pad, the works.” she rolled her eyes. “obviously joel keeps the pain-killers under lock and key. he’s so paranoid.”

you shared a smile with her, and then she nodded sharply. “okay, i’m leaving. going to make dinner with tommy and maria. i won’t be back until later. will you guys be okay?”

“you know we’re supposed to be the parents here, right?”

but she was already out the door. “whatever,” she called behind her, laughing.

you weren’t alone for long. joel’s footsteps came up the stairs and into your room, and he carried with him a glass of water and a bowl. he set both down on your nightstand. “i made soup for you,” he explained.

“just now?” a smile played on your lips, pulling an eye-roll from him.

“no, silly girl, i was cooking this whole afternoon. while you were sleeping.”

“well, you did keep me up late.”

his brow furrowed. “is that why you’re feeling so bad? i mean i know you’re on your period, but is it made worse by that? i’m so sorry, sweet girl, let me make it up to you.”

he was already kneeling at the edge of the bed before you could even get a word out. “no, no, no, joel, it has nothing to do with that!! really. nothing at all.”

he eyed you warily.

“i promise! it’s totally unrelated! please, just– can you just–”

“yes, sweet girl?”

fuck. “can you please just lay down with me?” it was almost embarrassing asking joel for anything soft. you knew he wasn’t a particularly gentle man. you were surprised he was even doing this for you.

his entire face softened. “oh, honey.” and then his shoes were off and he was under the covers, curled around you. he tucked his chin into your neck and inhaled deeply.

you giggled. “what are you doing?”

he was quiet for a moment. “just thinking about you.” his hands came up to your stomach and began rubbing soft circles into the flesh there.

“what about me?”

he didn’t answer, and when you shifted in his arms to look back, his eyes were closed. but his grip tightened, and you allowed him to pull you closer, into his warmth. another smile danced along your lips.

who needs a heating pad when you have joel miller?

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princesskenny1998 · 2 months ago

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One Piece | Monkey D. Luffy x strawhat!reader ~ Attraction, PT.1

It was a lazy afternoon aboard the Thousand Sunny. The sun shone brightly through the windows of the galley, casting a golden glow on everything. The crew had just finished a hearty lunch, and now, most of them were lounging about, relaxing in various parts of the ship. Some of the crew were enjoying a game of cards, while others were reading or chatting among themselves.

You, however, found yourself sitting with Nami and Robin at the dining table, nursing a half-finished drink and enjoying the casual conversation that was unfolding.

"Okay, but seriously," Nami began, her arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair, "who do you think is the most attractive guy you've ever met?"

You raised an eyebrow, sensing this was one of those light-hearted moments where the crew could share opinions about things that were a little more personal than usual. "You're really asking that kind of question now?" you asked, teasing Nami with a grin.

"Come on, don’t act like you haven't thought about it," Nami responded with a wink. "Me and Robin are always talking about good-looking men. This time, it’s your turn. Who is your pick?"

Robin, sitting beside you, simply smiled faintly, her hands folded elegantly in her lap. "I’m curious too," she added in her soft, almost amused tone.

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you thought about it. Of course, the world was filled with handsome men, but picking the most attractive one? Now that was a tough challenge.

"Alright, fine," you sighed, acting like it was a serious decision, though in reality, you already had a clear answer. "Well, there’s always Eustass Kid. He's got that bad-boy vibe, and I’ll admit, I don’t mind a little arrogance now and then."

Nami rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Kid? Please. He’s all muscle and no charm. He barely smiles."

You shrugged, a grin playing on your lips. "Fair enough, but still... Then there’s Sabo. He’s got that cool, collected demeanor, and let’s not forget—he's got a heart of gold. But, if we’re being honest, he’s a little too serious for my taste."

Robin gave a small chuckle, clearly enjoying the conversation. "It’s true," she added, "Sabo does carry a sense of duty with him that can be a little intimidating."

You nodded thoughtfully. "And there’s Shanks. I mean, come on. The guy's a walking legend, right? He’s got the charisma, the leadership qualities, the swagger—he’s got everything. But…"

"But?" Nami prompted, leaning forward slightly. "There’s a ‘but’?"

"Yeah," you said, looking both of them in the eye. "I think the most attractive man, the one who truly takes the crown, is someone who’s right here. Someone who might not get enough credit for it."

Nami and Robin exchanged curious glances, clearly intrigued now.

"Who?" Nami asked, her tone a little sarcastic but also expectant.

You smiled, feeling your heart beat just a little faster as you said it: "Luffy."

Nami blinked, staring at you as if you'd said something utterly nonsensical. "Luffy?" she echoed, her voice rising with disbelief. "The same Luffy who’s constantly making a mess of everything, who never seems to know when to stop eating, and who always acts like a five-year-old? That Luffy?"

You could feel the heat rising to your face, but you didn’t back down. "Yes, Luffy! Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean," you said, leaning forward as if to emphasize your point. "Luffy is ridiculously good-looking, and I swear, he knows it. He’s got that effortless charm, that thing that draws people in without even trying. It’s like… he can be so carefree and innocent, but also—when he wants to—he can turn it on and be incredibly... attractive."

Robin raised an eyebrow and let out a small, almost amused chuckle. "I think I understand what you mean, but… are you sure it’s not just the admiration you have for him as the captain?"

You shook your head, the excitement in your voice growing. "No, no! It’s not just that. Sure, he’s a great captain, but there’s something about his presence that’s just magnetic. He has this way of walking into a room and instantly making everyone feel at ease, like everything is going to be fine just because he's there. And he has this kind of… subtle confidence, you know? Like, he’s completely aware of how good he looks, but he doesn’t flaunt it."

Nami gave you a skeptical look. "You’re seriously telling me you think Luffy’s good-looking?"

"Yes!" you said, almost a little too loudly. "I swear, it’s like he has this unspoken confidence about him. He doesn’t need to try to be attractive, it just comes naturally to him. And it’s not even just his looks—it's how he carries himself. There’s something about the way he’s so carefree, but then, in the blink of an eye, he can switch to being completely serious and commanding. He can be both a childish goof and a damn sexy man at the same time!"

Robin was quietly laughing now, but Nami seemed a little more skeptical, raising an eyebrow at your enthusiasm. "I still don’t get it. I mean, Luffy’s got somewhat of a nice body, sure, but… his personality doesn't exactly scream ‘heartthrob’."

You couldn't help but grin. "Oh, Nami, you just don’t get it. He doesn’t try to be anything. That's the thing! He's so real, so honest, so Luffy. And that’s what makes him so damn attractive."

You took a deep breath, your voice lowering a little, the words coming more naturally as you gushed. "Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but sometimes when Luffy smiles at me, I swear my heart skips a beat. He doesn’t have to say anything—just his smile, his eyes—there’s this warmth in them that makes him look like the most amazing person alive."

Robin’s smile widened, clearly entertained by your fervor, while Nami just shook her head, clearly not convinced.

"I’m telling you," you said with absolute confidence, "Luffy is the hottest guy I've ever seen. Hands down. He’s the one who—"

Just then, you felt a familiar presence looming behind you. A shadow fell over your face as you froze, a sudden awareness of a certain someone’s proximity hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Luffy’s voice came from just behind your ear, smooth and teasing. "You really think I’m hot?"

You froze, your eyes wide as you immediately realized what was happening. Luffy was standing right behind you, his smirk somehow managing to be both casual and devilishly self-assured. He leaned forward slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he repeated the question, his voice dripping with playful confidence.

"You really think I’m hot?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your face turn crimson. You immediately clammed up, caught completely off guard. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words. How in the world were you supposed to respond to that? The guy you’d just been gushing about was now right behind you, acting like he hadn’t heard a thing.

"I—I… uh… Luffy!" you stammered, turning around in your chair to face him. "Wha—What are you doing here?"

Luffy grinned even wider, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Just heard you talking about me," he said with a playful wink. "I thought I’d come see what all the fuss was about."

Nami was biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh, while Robin’s amused chuckle only made you feel even more embarrassed. You could feel the heat of your blush spreading down to your neck, your words failing you as you struggled to come up with something to say. You had no idea how to handle this situation.

"I didn’t mean—" you began, but Luffy just leaned even closer, his face dangerously close to yours, his smile never faltering.

"Are you sure you want to take it back?" he teased, his tone low and confident, and for the first time, you could see the layers of his playfulness mixed with something undeniably... alluring.

You were so caught up in his gaze, in his teasing smirk, that for a brief second, everything else faded away. Luffy was everything you had just described—confident, handsome, playful, and yet, there was something undeniably charming about how unintentional it all seemed. He didn’t need to try to be anything, and that was what made him irresistible.

You gulped, finally managing to squeak out, "I—uh—I think you’re really hot, Luffy. Just… just like I said!"

Luffy raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying every moment of your embarrassment. He finally pulled back with a laugh, the playful tension breaking. "Well, thank you. You're hot, too," he said, grinning broadly.

Nami burst out laughing, unable to contain herself any longer, and even Robin was suppressing a giggle. You, on the other hand, were absolutely mortified, your face as red as a tomato.

Luffy turned around, strolling off with his usual carefree gait, leaving you to try and regain your composure.

"You’re hopeless," Nami teased, still laughing as you slumped back in your chair, face burning.

"I swear," you muttered, half laughing at yourself, half still trying to recover from the embarrassment, "I’m never living this down."

But deep down, as your heart settled back into its normal rhythm, you couldn’t help but smile. Because, yes, Luffy was hot. And somehow, you had just confirmed it to his face.

#x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #one piece luffy #luffy x reader #luffy #luffy x you #one piece

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months ago

Text

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 12: Please Call Me Only If You Are Coming Home]

A/N: Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥳 Be sure to vote in our final poll, which will be pinned at the top of my blog per usual 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Homecoming” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What the hell do you need that for?” Cregan says to Helaena in the next aisle over, sounding alarmed. You are raiding a Kwik Stop just outside Colusa, California, following Route 20 west towards the Pacific Ocean. But when Helaena replies, her voice is perfectly soothing, lyrical, too serene for the way the world is now.

“It’s not for me. It’s just in case anyone ever finds themselves in need of one.” And this makes sense, even though you can’t see what it is she’s taken off the disorderly, ransacked shelves; Helaena is always picking up trinkets to keep stowed away in her burlap messenger bag until their utility becomes essential.

Cregan is relieved. “Oh, okay, gotcha. Whew, you almost gave me a heart attack there, Miss LaeLae…”

Ice is stretched out and dozing on the cool tile floor. Luke and Rhaena are keeping watch by the front of the store. Aegon is standing by the decommissioned Icee machine and showing Daeron which route he’s marked on his map and why.

“Why do I need to know this?” Daeron is asking.

Aegon snorts. “In case I get killed, dumbass…”

Fluttering pieces of paper hang taped to the glass doors of the empty refrigerators: Don’t go towards Sacramento; People in Santa Rosa killed my brother for his car; Andrew Lounsbury, if you see this we are headed to Aunt Sarah’s house, meet us there! Meanwhile, in your own aisle, Aemond is watching you as your fingers flit through packages of Starbursts and Jolly Ranchers and Life Savers Gummies, separating the trash from the ones that haven’t been opened yet. His expression is wary, uncertain. “What?” you ask him.

“Are you…okay?” Aemond says, low enough that no one else will hear.

Of course you aren’t; you keep walking into rooms and looking for Rio, and he’s not there. But you know what Aemond means. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Did I hurt you? Are you…” He steps closer, the blue of his eye gleaming with attentive, penitent concern, sins he is certain he must have committed. “Are you sore, are you bleeding at all?”

You smile, just the ghost of a curve at the edge of your lips. “No, really, I feel fine.” And in your body, this is true. There is a tension that has vanished from your muscles, a softness in your bones, not shards of glass shifting beneath skin but living things like the branches of trees, flexible, green, damp life awash within.

“I was trying to…you know…take it slow and be super gentle, but then…by the end…”

“Aemond, you did everything right.”

And he exhales all the iron-heavy dread he’s been carrying around since he woke up this morning to find you already gone—showing Aegon how to flip Bisquick pancakes as Cregan browned them in a skillet in the woodstove downstairs—and you realize how much you’ve scared him. “I’m really sorry about…” He touches his chin restlessly. “I should have asked you if you wanted me to pull out, I just got, uh…kind of…distracted.”

Your smile grows; now you can feel it in your eyes, warm and luminous. “It’s alright. I did too.”

He is hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have told you to stop. And anyway, I think we’re safe.” But of course you’ve lost track of the days, and in your dark trance of grief and Tramadol you were entirely unaware of the rhythms of your body, pangs of desire or clear ample wetness, biological cues, primal timekeeping.

“Cool,” Aemond says, now trying to sound casual. “And next time…are you thinking that I should try to…maybe…just to be sure…?”

You shrug, then tell him the first thing that comes into your mind, that flashes in your skull like lightning bugs at dusk. “I’m thinking that life is too short and too rare to put effort into preventing it.”

Aemond’s eyebrows go up, but he doesn’t seem disappointed. “So we’ll see what happens.”

“If you’re onboard.”

“I’m totally onboard. I just want to take care of you. I…” He glances down at his palms—open, clean—and then looks back up at you. “I’ve never had anything that felt right before. Not my family, not myself, nothing. But this feels right. And it’s where I want to be forever.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” And this is what everyone thought: Jace, Baela, Rio. But you make the oath anyway, a hollow promise that echoes like a windchime.

“Me either,” Aemond vows.

You turn to leave the aisle and your backpack hits the shelf, knocking something off the top and onto the tile floor, where it lands with a thump. You gasp, and people come running; but it’s only a box of Honey Buns that was stashed somewhere too high for you to see. “It’s nothing,” you assure them. “We’re all okay, no need to get excited.”

“Death by Little Debbie,” Aegon says, chuckling nervously, his heart still racing.

You pick up the box and think of Rio with abrupt, violent clarity: he’s playing with French-speaking kids on the beach outside Djibouti City, he’s drinking cans of Guinness with you under a full moon on Diego Garcia, he’s reaching out from the pier to pet finless porpoises in Chinhae, he’s bleeding to death on a floor in Winnemucca, Nevada. Your vision is blurring with tears; your throat is knotted and scalding.

“I want him back,” Aegon says softly.

“I know. I do too.” You open the box of Honey Buns and pass one to Aegon first, then distribute the rest. There are only six total. Helaena tries to give hers to Cregan, but he rips it in half so they can share; Aemond insists you take the last one. You eat it wordlessly, sugar melting into your bloodstream.

“I think I saw a minivan down the side street,” Luke says as he chews his Honey Bun, waving his binoculars with his free hand. “It’s probably out of gas like all the others, but…”

“We’ll check it out,” Aemond replies, and everyone follows him as he departs from the Kwik Stop.

It’s a green Kia Carnival with a zombie trapped inside: once a young man in a Nirvana t-shirt, now a ghoul that paws at the glass with its oozing hands and licks the windows, long animal drags of a decomposing tongue. But the fuel cap is still closed, and while the van is turned off you can see the keys dangling from the ignition.

“Think there’s any gas left in the tank?” Daeron says brightly. The Targaryen beach house, following the indirect route you must take to avoid the cities, is about 250 miles from where you are now in Colusa. That’s two weeks on foot, or as few as five hours by car.

Rhaena goes for the driver’s side door. “Let’s find out.” She yanks on the handle to discover it’s locked. Cregan uses his axe to shatter the window, and the zombie tumbles gracelessly out onto the pavement, rancid skin and necrotic muscle ripping from its bones. As it crawls towards the siren call of fresh meat, Ice barks viciously and Cregan swings his axe. The blade slices easily through the monster’s skull, and its flailing, murderous limbs go still.

Rhaena reaches through the broken window to unlock the doors, climbs into the driver’s seat, and turns the key in the ignition. There is a blessed sound: the thunder of a living engine. “Half a tank!” Rhaena cheers.

Aegon gags as he opens the passenger’s side door. “Oh, it reeks so bad…”

“We’ll roll down all the windows,” Aemond says curtly.

“There are organs on the floor! What the fuck is that, a liver?!”

Aemond gives it a cursory glance. “Looks like a spleen.”

“I don’t want to sit near a spleen! I don’t even know what a spleen does!”

“Then throw it outside somewhere!” Aemond snaps. “You’re thirty years old, you can’t clean a minivan?!”

Aegon grumbles as he uses sheets of Burger King coupons from the glovebox to toss zombie guts into the grass. Aemond wipes down the hard surfaces with antiseptic. Luke keeps watch and Daeron shoots down several zombies as they lurch out of nearby houses and towards the Kia Carnival. You ask Helaena for the box of 9mm bullets in her messenger bag and she gives it to you. You load your Beretta M9, stow the remaining bullets in your backpack, and take aim at the approaching zombies to make sure you still know how to get into the rhythm, that you can still be a killer when the circumstances require it. You are out of practice, but you’re beginning to feel more like yourself again. Aemond brought you back. They all did.

When the minivan is as clean as possible, everyone hurries inside and Rhaena drives west on Route 20 under the afternoon sun. At the intersection with Route 53, Aegon directs Rhaena to follow it south around Clear Lake, then to take Route 29 west through rolling hills that were once filled with vineyards, wineries, music, weddings, horse farms. Now the land is hushed, and wild, and dotted with silhouettes that sway drunkenly and swipe at vultures when they try to gobble tattered strips of putrid flesh that unravel from bones like the bandages of a mummy.

The Kia Carnival rides Route 175 west and then Route 101 south, where the earth turns dry and rocky and barren, reminding you of northern Nevada and piling stones of heartache in your belly. In a place called Pieta—an old 1800s railroad depot, according to a plaque mounted just off the road—Rhaena slows down to get a better look at something that doesn’t make any sense. There is a souvenir shop of rocks and gems, now long out of business, and in a shed beside the main building hangs a gruesome specimen that you can see through the open doors. It has two arms and two legs, but it’s not a zombie. Its flayed flesh is a vibrant, healthy red; parts of the thighs and chest have been carefully carved away like cuts of meat are sliced from beef cattle. It is suspended on meat hooks. It is being butchered.

Cregan notes uneasily: “That ain’t an opossum or a bison.”

“I think it’s human,” Aemond says, horrified.

“Guess we’re not stopping for the night anytime soon,” Rhaena quips, then floors the gas pedal.

One of Aegon’s mixtapes spins in the CD player. From the speakers flows Somebody To You by The Vamps.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you see anyone now?” Aemond asks.

Luke speaks without looking away from his binoculars. “And for the fourth time, my answer remains no.”

After a night’s rest in a cabin at Camp Liahona Redwoods in Sonoma County, you followed California State Route 1 down the coast of the Pacific Ocean until the Kia Carnival finally ran out of gas just south of Olema, a small town founded in the 1850s. A ten-mile hike has brought you to the cliff where the fabled Targaryen beach house is perched with a few hours left before sunset. The ailing daylight is golden, the wave crests glittering, gulls cawing as they swoop through the salt-lashed air. From the road that twists like a snake through the slopes of Bolinas—thick with redwoods, Douglas firs, oaks, cypresses, tall grass that whips in the wind and tufts of eucalyptus—Luke is searching the property. It is less a house than a mansion, a museum, a monument, a work of art: sharp rectangular lines and glass walls, balconies, fountains, a pool, a garden.

Cregan whistles. “A place like that has to cost a million dollars.”

“Try fifteen million,” Aemond says distractedly, and Cregan gawks at him.

“Well, from what I can see it looks safe,” Luke declares, lowering his binoculars. “No zombies.”

“You really think they’re in there?” Daeron asks eagerly. “Mom and Criston?”

“Yeah, kid,” Aegon says, squeezing Daeron’s shoulder; but his voice is morose, like he knows he has surrendered to something, a path of least resistance, a hostile planet’s gravity. “Of course they are. Let’s go say hi.”

At the end of the driveway, the five-car garage is open. There is an Alfa Romeo, a Porsche, a Ferrari, a Ducati motorcycle, and a white Chevy Tahoe, which Aemond says belongs to Criston. And there are other items of interest mounted on the walls.

“Yes!” Daeron says as he runs to a quiver full of arrows for his compound bow. Aegon lifts a golf club out of its bag and makes an imaginary putt, getting reacquainted with the feeling of his hands on the grip.

“This is an iron,” Aegon says when he catches you watching him. In the shade of the garage, he pushes his neon green plastic sunglasses up into his windswept hair. “It’s metal all the way through and gives you good control over the shot. Drivers are for long-distance, and wedges and putters don’t have enough power. But an iron is just right.”

“Are you going to teach me how to golf?”

Aegon grins, his first real smile all day. “You think you can handle it, SunChips?”

“I don’t,” you answer honestly, and he laughs.

“If you teach me how to shoot, I’ll teach you how to golf.”

“An unfair trade! My skill is useful.”

Aemond knocks on the door that connects the garage to the main house. “Mom? Criston?” There is no response; all of you wait for one, listening intently through the crashes of waves and reverberating gull shrieks. Ice begins to pace agitatedly and nudges Cregan’s hands. He looks at Aemond, half-fear and half-sympathy.

“No,” Aemond says. “No, she’s wrong.”

“She might be,” Cregan replies, steady and ever-agreeable. Helaena is wringing her small, gentle hands. Everyone is watching Aemond to see what they should do next.

He pounds on the door again, this time with a closed fist. “Mom, we’re home! Mom? Criston? It’s me! It’s Aemond!”

Still, there is no answer. Aemond tries the doorknob, and it turns unimpeded. It is unlocked. He opens the door, peeks inside, and then crosses through the threshold. The rest of you trail him like he has eight shadows, the last in the shape of a wolf.

You step into the living room: wide open windows, the ocean breeze breathing through the house. The air tastes like sand and saltwater, sun and blue skies. There are three-story glass walls that overlook the water, a staircase leading up to the next floor, pristine white couches, black end tables topped with vases full of dead flowers, grey marble floors, bejeweled golden crosses that glint cruelly in the bloody late-afternoon light, family photographs on the mantle of the fireplace. There are many pictures of Aemond, and some of Helaena and Daeron as well. You don’t see a single photo of Aegon. He notices you scanning the snapshots in the frames and looks away, ashamed.

“Mom?” Aemond calls, his voice ricocheting through the vast, open space, clinical like a hospital or a morgue. “Criston?”

“Grandpa?” Helaena says meekly. Cregan is clutching his axe and peering around vigilantly. Ice whines and paces, her strange yellow eyes glowing like flecks of gold in a stream. Rhaena tries to soothe her with ear scratches; Ice begins to howl, low long mournful sounds.

You catch Aegon’s attention when he glances at you again. “This isn’t right,” you whisper. “If they were here, they would have heard us by now.”

Aegon turns to his brother. “Hey, Aemond…”

And then there are footsteps from upstairs, slow and shambling. Everyone looks, and it appears at the top of the steps like a mirage or a night terror, like a wrathful god glaring down from Mount Olympus. Long, filthy strands of white hair hang from what is left of its scalp. Its gore-stained teeth are bared. Its eyes are cloudy like the poisoned atmosphere of another planet, one gasp enough to singe your lungs and infect your bloodstream. The snarls pour out ragged and rasping from its disintegrating vocal chords. The man was wearing a suit when he died, and the pale blue shirt is now splattered with crimson and bits of rotting flesh. The black leather shoes on its feet clop as the zombie descends the staircase with staggering, unnatural steps, its decaying arms grasping for the mortals who wait below.

Daeron says numbly: “Dad?”

Aemond’s eye is wide and dazed. Ice is growling. Helaena is screaming and fleeing towards the wall; Cregan embraces her and she clings to him. “Aemond? Buddy?” Cregan shouts. “How do you want to handle this?” And what he means is: Do you want to kill it, or should someone else? Do you need time to process what’s happened? How can we help you?

“Aemond?” you say. You touch his arm; he doesn’t react. Rhaena draws her Ruger but doesn’t shoot yet. She is looking to Aemond for permission. Luke is standing in front of Rhaena and forcing her backwards as the zombie nears the bottom of the staircase. Now you can smell it: dark wet rot, spoiled meat, blood and oily fat and organs putrefying in a threadbare patchwork of flesh.

“Dad!” Daeron wails, and he’s covering his face with his hands because he knows what this must mean for the rest of his family too.

“Aemond?!” Rhaena yells. “Aemond, what do you want us to do?!”

You reach for your M9 as the zombie’s leather shoes settle on the marble floor. This seems to shake Aemond from his paralysis.

“No,” he says. “I’ll do it.” He grabs his Glock and aims, but his finger hesitates on the trigger. And you can see the ghosts of the people who have died by his hands lurking in the crystalline blue of his remaining eye: Alys, Jace, Baela and her baby…and now Viserys Targaryen too.

In the lull, in the indecision, Aegon roars and swings his golf club. The metal head collides with the zombie’s skull. Weak corroded bone collapses; blood and brains the color of black mold leak out onto the polished marble.

“It wasn’t enough, huh?!” Aegon screams, then hits the zombie again. The corpse crumples to the floor, but Aegon isn’t done yet. “You couldn’t just fuck everything up when you were alive, you had to keep torturing us from beyond the grave, you sick bastard, you selfish prick, what is wrong with you?!” He whacks the carcass with his golf club again and again. “I hate you! I hate you! You deserved so much worse than this! We crossed an entire goddamn country, and Jace died, and Baela died, and Rio died, all so we could get back here, and now it’s all for nothing because you’ve destroyed everyone you’ve ever touched! I fucking hate you!”

Aegon strikes the zombie one last time—the skull is a pulverized soup of gore and bone fragments—and before anyone can reach for him, he has bolted up the steps to search the rest of the house. You find them in their final resting places: bones in the hallway interspersed with gold rings and a medallion of Saint Irene of Thessaloniki, bones in the shower pierced with stainless steel surgical screws from hip and knee replacements, bones in the master bedroom entangled with shreds of a bloodstained silk nightgown and long locks of auburn hair. Daeron is sobbing, and Cregan takes Helaena outside to the garden to calm down, and Aemond wanders through the rooms in shock. You don’t know what to say to him; you remember how nothing anyone said made a difference when Rio died. But Aegon is furious. He tears away from everyone and goes to his bedroom: racks full of CDs, neon green blankets, an acoustic guitar propped in one corner. Then he ravages his hiding places—inside drawers, under his mattress, on tiny shelves he carved into the walls behind golf and Green Day posters—and collects mint tins. Then he pours out the white powder inside onto his desk and arranges it into lines like contrails behind airplanes, like wagon trails across the earth.

You try to stop him. “Aegon, wait, please don’t—”

“Get the fuck out,” he hisses, and for the first time you see the cold reptilian sheen of something like hate in his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me. I can be alone. I’m used to it.”

“Aegon, I’m not—”

“They’re gone. You can leave too.” Then he slams the door and locks it.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Aegon is upstairs getting high and Helaena is downstairs inventorying supplies in the massive walk-in pantry, the rest of you use shovels from the garage to bury what is left of the bodies in the backyard, unceremonious shallow graves, the soil too rocky for anything more elaborate. Rhaena uses her jagged sliver of slate to mark stones with their names and a few kind words about each of them; but Viserys’ stone is left blank. Then Rhaena returns inside to help Helaena prepare for dinner, while Daeron inspects the perimeter of the house with Cregan and Ice. Luke uses a telescope near the pool not to gaze up at the rising stars but to study the neighboring properties.

Aemond murmurs as he stands in front of the four graves: “I should have gotten here sooner. Maybe I could have saved them.”

“You still have a family,” you say, begging him to believe that there are things worth living for. “You have Aegon and Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena, Luke, Cregan. And you have me.”

Aemond stares out over the Pacific Ocean. The sky above is red and lavender, fire and dreams. “How do we get to Diego Garcia?” He is only half-joking.

“Well you just find a boat and row about 10,000 miles that way.”

He sighs and drags his trembling fingers through his hair. It has always been his job to know what happens next, and now he doesn’t. Gulls squawk and wheel in the air. His right cheek glistens with tears.

“I never saw the ocean until I joined the Navy,” you say, and Aemond looks over at you, curious but not wanting to react in the wrong way and scare you into going quiet again. He’s always mining for details of your past, and you’re endlessly evading him. But perhaps you have been too secretive. He wants to know these things because he wants to know you, and you have no idea how long you’ll be here to shed your mysteries. If a story dies with you, it dies forever.

“Really?”

“Yeah. My mother…Mama, I always called her Mama…she went to Virginia Beach a few times while I was growing up, and that was her favorite place in the world. But she never took me with her. She’d go with my aunt or my oldest brothers. So when I got to basic training on the shore of Lake Michigan, that was the closest thing to an ocean I’d ever seen, and it absolutely amazed me.”

“Lake Michigan,” Aemond repeats, trying not to sound like he’s mocking you.

You smile. “And then of course I ended up in some more impressive places. But compared to Soft Shell, Lake Michigan was a whole different planet.”

“Soft Shell?”

“Like softshell turtles. They’re one of those animals that are so ugly they’re almost cute. We have a lot of them in Kentucky. Well, we used to. Maybe people ate them all when the food ran out.”

“Soft Shell, Kentucky,” Aemond says. “What was it like? I mean…I know you left, and I know you had good reasons…but I’ve never been to Kentucky. I’ve never really been to Appalachia period.”

“It’s beautiful. You get all four seasons, and you’re out in nature all the time, and it feels old, like hardly anything has changed there in thousands of years. You feel connected to the earth. I loved the forests and the mountains. I don’t think I realized how much I loved certain things about where I’m from until I’d been gone for years. I didn’t leave because I had to get away from Kentucky. I left because I had to get away from who I was when I was there, you know? Someone lonely and helpless. But how my family was isn’t Kentucky’s fault.”

“No,” Aemond muses. “I suppose not.” You begin walking together back towards the house.

“Ready for more bad news?” Luke asks, and gestures for you and Aemond to peer through the telescope. Aemond lets you go first, and immediately you see what Luke means. There are zombies in the surrounding hills, and not just a few. There are hundreds, stumbling around aimlessly and posing no current threat; but you are not safe here.

“We don’t have enough people to defend ourselves,” Aemond says once he’s taken a look, tapping his chin in that way that he does when he’s fearful but trying to hide it.

“No, we don’t,” Luke agrees.

“And there aren’t many natural resources here to subsist on. Even the fishing prospects aren’t great without a boat or a pier.”

“Right,” Luke says.

You wonder if Aemond is thinking the same thing you are. He might not know what has to happen next, but you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

The dining room table—large enough to seat twenty—is illuminated with candles, meticulously arranged with china and silverware, and cluttered with canned soups from brands you’ve never seen before: Amy’s, Pacific Foods, Health Valley. There are cases of Perrier and San Pellegrino to drink, and bottles of Chateau Lafite Rothschild red wine. Everyone else is here except Aegon. You are just about to go find him when he comes rushing down the staircase and into the dining room. He is wearing clothes from his closet here: a salmon pink polo that emphasizes his sunburn, khaki shorts, a white puka shell necklace, Sperry Bahama sneakers. The left shoe just barely fits over the bandages still protecting his healing left leg. There are fingerprints of white powder on the front of his shirt.

“Oh, look!” he announces. “Isn’t this precious? A family dinner?”

“Aegon, please sit down,” Aemond says briskly.

“Come on, it’ll be just like old times. We have all four of us kids, and then…Rhaena, you can be my dear departed Grandpa Otto, you just have to scowl at everyone…and Luke can be Criston.”

Luke is confused. “What—?”

“No no no! Don’t worry. It’s a very easy part. All you have to do is gaze worshipfully at Aemond and talk about how brilliant he is. There’s really not much to it, and honestly you do a lot of that already. And then…” Aegon floats by you, skimming his palm down the length of your hair. Something about the weight of his hand gives you goosebumps: careless, careful, fleeting, intimate. He sighs: “My beautiful, tortured mother.”

“Aegon, sit down,” Aemond orders.

“Father!” Aegon cries out suddenly, spotting Cregan at the head of the table. Cregan looks around the dining room, baffled. “You’ve joined us! How unusual! Did your Titanic replicas spontaneously combust? Did the world end? Well, actually, it sort of did…”

“Buddy, I have no earthly clue what you’re trying to—”

“Now this is a tough part,” Aegon says forcefully. “Patriarch of the Targaryen dynasty, big shoes to fill! But don’t worry, I’m here to help. I’ll give you your lines. All you have to do is repeat after me, okay?”

Cregan studies him and does not assent.

Aegon slams both palms down onto the table. “You’re so fucking stupid, Aegon. You’re a humiliation, Aegon. Why can’t you be smart like Aemond, or sweet like Helaena, or obedient like Daeron? Why did my firstborn child turn out to be such a fucking waste?”

“I’m not going to say that,” Cregan replies quietly.

“Say it,” Aegon seethes.

Now Daeron is weeping between spoonfuls of Amy’s tortilla soup straight from the can. “I want to go home.”

“We are home,” Aemond says.

“This isn’t home anymore, Aemond,” Daeron sniffles.

Aegon is still trying to feed Cregan lines. “Have you found a wife yet, Aegon? No, of course you haven’t. You’ve got hands like a rat and a disposition to match. You’re an overgrown vermin, you’re a plague to every house you enter. Who would fuck you out of anything but greed or pity?”

“Aegon, please stop,” Aemond pleads, wincing and rubbing his forehead.

Helaena folds her arms atop the table and rests her head on them, hiding her face. Luke and Rhaena keep their eyes downcast. Daeron reaches for a bottle of red wine, but Aegon swats his hand away.

“Nope. Illegal. You’re not 21.”

“Aegon, seriously, I’m so over that joke—”

“Shut up. You can’t even get a tattoo without parental consent.”

“Our parents are dead!” Daeron shouts. “They died terrible deaths and they’re never coming back and you’re making everything worse!”

“Then get rid of me! Put me out on the street and I won’t be anyone’s problem anymore! I’ll get murdered or eaten and it’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you!”

Helaena breaks down sobbing, and before Aegon can register what’s happening Cregan scoops him up off the floor and throws him over one broad shoulder. Then Cregan lugs him upstairs as Aegon struggles and yowls and punches at Cregan’s back, all in vain. You can hear a lot of commotion and then finally Cregan reappears, sweat beading on his brow but otherwise composed.

“I tied him to his bedframe with an extension cord,” Cregan says. “I don’t think he’ll be making any more trouble this evening.”

“Thank you,” Aemond replies, defeated.

“If he’s going to be up there all night, he’ll need water and food,” you say. “And enough blankets to make sure he’s warm.” It gets chilly when the sun goes down here, as low as the 50s. You grab two bottles of Perrier off the table and stand to bring them upstairs to Aegon, but Cregan gently takes them out of your hands.

“I’ll make sure he’s well supplied, Miss Chips,” Cregan insists, and you are convinced he thinks he’s doing you a favor. He doesn’t want Aegon to have the opportunity to upset anybody further. And yet a part of you is undeniably disappointed.

Aegon has been gone for ten minutes, and you miss him already.

~~~~~~~~~~

In Aemond’s childhood bedroom, a huge, impersonal, spartan space, the very few pieces of furniture all in the same color scheme of white and navy blue, you cannot say anything to bring his family back to life, or his friends, or the possibilities of what his life might have been before the dead began to walk. But you remember what he did for you when Rio died and you were sinking in dark, numb despair, and so you take Aemond’s hands and place them on your body—skimming under your t-shirt, circling around your waist—offering yourself like a sacrifice that you both desperately need, like a shot of antivenom that will only buy you hours. He draws you into his lap, and beneath your palms and your lips and your thighs, you can feel him coming back to you, filling up with light like a horizon at dawn.

“I’m still here,” you whisper as he throws you down onto the bed, eases himself into you, carries you away like a ship coasting out into open water. I don’t ever want to be anywhere but here.

Aemond holds you after, ensnared in sweat-damp sheets and entwined fingers, and he confesses: “I knew it was possible that they might not still be alive. Logically, I knew that. But it was like I never allowed myself to feel it. And now it’s…it’s…it’s all at once and it’s too much. I can’t fathom that I’ll never see them again. But I don’t even have time to mourn. I need to figure out where we’re going next.”

“Aemond?”

His lips to your forehead, his voice a drowsy murmur: “Hm?”

“I have to tell Rio’s family what happened to him.”

He pulls back to look at you. “You want to go to Oregon?”

“What if Odessa really is safe?”

At first he is bewildered; then he begins to consider it. “Criston’s Tahoe is in the garage. If we siphon the gas left in all the vehicles, we might have enough to get us halfway there.”

“That’s a lot better than none of the way there.”

“We’ll all have to vote on it. The trip will be dangerous.”

“Everything is now.”

“Almost everything,” he teases, his hand sliding down between your legs, taking you far away again.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, you find Aegon at the cliffside smoking one of his Marlboro Golds, slow meditative drags, eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep. That’s alright. He can nap in the Tahoe. Rhaena won’t need his directions for a while; you’ll stay northbound on Route 1 for 200 miles before cutting inland as you near the Oregon border.

You sit down on the sandy, shrub-strewn ground beside Aegon and wait for him to speak. It takes a while, but you don’t mind. You’ve always had patience; you’ve always been a better listener than someone who fills silences.

At last Aegon says: “I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

“Then stop.”

He smirks bitterly, glaring out into the sunrise, orange light like fire on his sunburned face. “You make reinvention sound so easy.”

“It’s not easy. But it is simple. You decide to get out, and then you do it. You don’t let anything convince you to give up or change course. The only way out is through.”

“I have a proposition.”

“I’m still not interested in fake dating you.”

He cackles. “No, it’s something else.”

“Okay. Let’s hear it.”

Now Aegon is serious. “I don’t ever want to split up again. Not in a year, not in ten years, not in twenty. Never.”

You smile as you watch the reflection of the dawn in his eyes, murky faraway blue like oceans all across the globe. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of commitment.”

“I want to take care of you until you die. I want you to take care of me until I die. And that’s as far as commitment goes with me.”

“Deal.” You offer Aegon your hand.

He shakes it. “Deal.”

Two hours later, Criston Cole’s white Chevy Tahoe is loaded high with supplies—including several of Aegon’s golf clubs and his acoustic guitar—and heading north on Route 1, a Fall Out Boy song from one of Aegon’s mixtapes blaring through the speakers:

“When Rome’s in ruins

We are the lions, free of the Colosseums

In poison places, we are antivenom

We’re the beginning of the end…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and wait for the sapphire-and-gold Bay Area to become the misty, primordial emerald green of the Pacific Northwest.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

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insomniadreamzz · 25 days ago

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Hii can you do a jinx smut where the reader has a disability where she can’t walk properly and has to use a cane or wheelchair. Whatever one you want. Soft stuff 💚

True love

Jinx x Fem!Reader

Mentions of physical disability, smut (soft), fluff

(Little Flashback)

You can still remember the moment you first met Jinx. She saved you from some Enforcers who probably must have mistaken you for someone else. The way you layed helplessly on the floor in pain, already saying goodbye to your life and then suddenly she appeared, shooting them down in seconds you couldn’t even process how quick she was, the thing you couldn’t see clearly though were her pink eyes, the little light string they leave whenever she moved swiftly, she was beautiful and strong.

„Come on don’t lay there like an idiot and go away before more of them will come to get ya. I am not your personal bodyguard, I just had a good moment so…better run before my bullet reaches between your eyes.“ The blue haired girl said and you frowned as you leaned up on your hands. You couldn’t run. You couldn’t even walk properly without any helping gadgets. And even if you had a cane you were just ashamed about your own disability, you liked your wheelchair even though you could at least walk a little but besides the embarrassment of how it looked you were in pain when you tried to walk. But now when your eyes glanced over to the broken wheelchair, little tears formed into your eyes. „I can’t…“ You said with a soft voice, Jinx looking at you with a confused expression. „What? Do you want to get shot?“ She asked again and you shook your head with a frustrated groan. „Ugh no! I mean it. I can’t walk. They destroyed my-…my wheelchair.“ You pouted, trying to hold back your tears and somehow the blue haired girl felt sorry for you. She knew how it felt to be different even though her differences weren’t physically. „Oh damn…I didn’t know that.“ She mentioned before stepping closer to you, glancing to the broken wheelchair and then back to you again. „Well you are lucky I am in a good mood today.“ Jinx mentioned before scooping you up into her arms, the way she could lift you up so easily, her muscles flexing as she did so, it was kind of attractive to you, making you blush.

„Thank you…“ You mumbled. „It’s okay. Tell me where’s your home I will take you there.

(End of Flashback)

Since then you and Jinx became very close. She made a new wheelchair for you all by herself, of course having her signature drawings all over it with neon paint. Every now and then she helped you walk for at least a few steps to keep your muscles intact. She cared for you so sweetly sometimes it made your heart ache of how sweet it was.

Today was one of your bad days. You felt the pain again even though you took your medicine, just one of those days where you can’t do anything but lay down in bed. Jinx knew those days and she was never leaving your side on those days, staying with you all day until you feel better. „Her hand was gently caressing you as you both cuddled, her closeness always made you feel relaxed. You just loved her but you never told her.

„Thank you Jinx…I am happy I have you with me.“ You whispered softly, making her hand hold your gently. „I am happy too. I found someone who understands…how it feels being different.“ Jinx mentioned and you blushed a little bit, feeling the same. „Same here. You like me just the way I am and never treated me like I am a weirdo only because of my…disability…“ Your voice lowered, making Jinx shift a little bit before lifting your head up by your chin, making you look into her beautiful pink eyes, she looked so serious though.

„No I don’t like you. I love you. I love you just the way you are. You don’t have to be able to walk or even run with me. You do show understanding for my own differences from others, my own disabilities, my craziness. You accepted it all. This is so much more important.“ She said, veing serious and honest for once. You kept on staring at each other before you both followed your feelings, closing the gap between you and finally your lips touched, kissing each other deeply and lovingly, both of you feeling butterflies in your stomach.

The kiss deepened as soon as Jinx noticed you returned her feelings, hovering above you as she slipped her tongue inside your mouth, her hands slipping under your shirt to caress your body. You didn’t know how but you totally forgot the pain. You felt so light and save with Jinx, everyone would think you are crazy for that but Jinx gives you so much safety. All that time you knew each other you never felt not save around her. Maybe she was a little bit possessive around you but that was okay according to her past. You understood her and honestly you didn’t mind. You loved how she wanted to show people you are hers.

She slowly pulled back from the kiss to breathe, now her gaze being filled with lust and you felt the same. „I love you too Jinx. Please never leave me.“ You said and that made her reach for your cheek, gently caressing it with her thumb as she tried not to cry. „Oh toots…I would never leave you. I love you way too much. Besides I need you just like you need me.“ She said before crashing her lips against yours again, making both of you moan softly into the kiss, getting lost into a heated and passionate kiss.

After your make out session both you you wanted more. She traveled down your body, leaving wet kisses on your bare skin until she reached between your legs, helping you to adjust your legs a little more comfortably as she spread them so she had a better view at your dripping heat. Before anything she looked at you, her gaze already driving you to the edge. „Are you sure you want me to…“ She started and you blushed, nodding eagerly. „Yes. Yes please Jinx I want it.“ You hummed, biting your lip as soon as you felt her tongue moving, licking along your wetness and playfully flicking it over your clit. She kept on kissing and licking you hungrily, gaining soft moans from you as you felt shivers go down your spine, the good feeling only getting more intense as she started to suck your clit, sending more shivers of pleasure through your body. You never thought you would experience something like this, the way her hands gently caressed your thighs while she was eating you out so good, it felt amazing.

„Mhh…does my girl want more huh?“ She mumbled softly, as she looked at you with a lustful gaze, you having a hard time to look back at her, your cheeks flushed red. „Y-Yes please.“ You really wanted more and Jinx will give you more as she used her finger, easily slipping it inside since you were so wet, gaining another moan from you as she slowly pumped it inside of you, you throwing your head back into the pillow when she added another one, fucking you with her fingers meanwhile her mouth was busy taking care of your clit. The sensation driving you over the edge once she curled her fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot.

„Oh…god-…I am so close…please…“ You whimper softly, encouraging her to ho faster and she did, groaning softly when she felt you clenching around her fingers and cumming hard as you arched your back, moaning loudly.

Jinx removed her fingers, wanting a taste of your cum as she used her tongue on you, making you whimper, feeling so sensitive at this point. When she was done licking you clean, she sat up, smiling at you before crawling up to you, placing a soft gentle kiss on your lips. „I love you so much…“ She whispered and you couldn’t feel happier at this point, hugging her tightly against you. „I love you too…thank you. Thank you so much for being with me.“

#x reader #fanfiction #female reader #x fem!reader #short imagine #lgbtq #arcane #arcane fanfic #jinx #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x y/n #jinx smut #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #smut scenarios #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #smut

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curseddollfaye · 1 year ago

Text

boy, I can't wait to get next to you

“Giving you true love in abundance, uh-huh. Giving and taking because we're not a fling. Giving me faith that it's not another”

toxic baby daddy toji! x reader NSFW headcanon

ᥫ᭡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ty! please let me know what you think! ^.^ requests are currently open!! ᥫ᭡

masterlist

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

- Firstly, we have to talk about what’s under those sweat pants…

- Happy trail for days, thick thighs for days, back muscles that make you wanna mark him all up. He’s 7 inches soft and I would say 9 inches when he’s fully hard (he be all up in your guts to say the least)

- pink tip, veiny underside, you struggle to take him all into your mouth whenever you give him head. Often having to stroke what doesn’t fit or sometimes when you both are feeling it he’ll shove the rest of it in your mouth; muttering a soft

- “Don’t worry slut, I’ll make it fit. I always do don’t it?”

- He’s a dominate and would never let you sub (again, but that’s a story for another time ;) not that you would want to but Toji is just NOT submissive at all.

- his hands are on of your personal favorites. Apart from the looks of course. If he’s not sex on legs then you don’t know what.

- but you don’t miss the way the cashier from the grocery store slammed your eggs into the plastic bag whenever she saw you checking out with him happy at your trail…he knows he’s good looking too! which doesn’t help much when you’re green with jealously every once in a while

- Toji is 6’1 as established, he towers over you and you can admit proudly that you’ve always had a thing for big beefy men.

- SLUTTY LITTLE WAIST

- He was all muscle, obviously Toji likes working out! He likes lifting weights the most.

- you ask him to skip his morning gym session to lay with you he responds with a sly

- “Baby did you not see the way I was picking up up and fucking you last night? Daddy needs to be strong for his pretty slut”

- doesnt end up going to the gym and lays with you instead because you always get your way

- is very experienced! DUH

- Toji was a known bachelor. Before you he was with many women. He takes pride in knowing that he can satisfy a woman. Especially and strictly when that woman is you.

- Has mastered how to eat your pussy out until you’re gripping his head and crying out

- HE IS A MUNCH!!!!!

- Loves eating your pussy , breakfast , lunch and dinner. He’s not the slightest bit ashamed of it. Watching you quiver him and shake from the pleasure he was giving you did all sort of shit to his cock

- generous lover through and through. Your pleasure always comes first to him

- You will never forget on your first anniversary when he had you spread on the bed.

- Somewhere in Greece

-Thong shoved to the side and he really gave no fucks who was hearing from underneath the balcony

- the bastard had left the balcony doors open..which you hadn’t minded at first. Thinking it was innocent as the sun set and the soft breeze whipped through the silky lace curtains…

- “Gonna show everyone who this pussy belongs to, who makes you cry from how hard you get fucked…you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Toji had chuckled. Holding your legs apart and occasionally letting his hands wonder to grip your tits. The sounds of him sucking your clit into his lips and slurping all your juices into his mouth while groaning from your taste.

- you honestly were so lost in pleasure before you knew it he had manhandled you into the mating press and you were being fucked like you sinned

- LETS TALK KINKS!!

- No secret he had a breeding kink

- Lets be real it took you two year to have this man’s baby which you gladly did!

- Many nights were he’s had you with your legs to your chest while his cock drives in and out of you in a punishing pace. A white ring forming spring his base as your grip his forearms for some stability. Your creamy cunt squeezing him in so well.

- How could he not come inside you? And he does so with filthy words leaving his pretty lips

- “Mmm yeah you dirty fucking bitch take my cum. I’m gonna make sure it catches so you won’t think about leaving me ever again”

- “You want my babies? You think you’ve earned this fucking load? Come for me again and I’ll think about if you deserve it or not”

- “Gonna put my fucking baby into you so everyone remembers who you belong to, ohhh fuck…ahaha….m’gonna make your tummy so round for me. Making those fucking tits leak milk for our baby”

- he’s a big fan of titties

- but one thing Toji truly can’t get enough of is your ass

- worships it as if it’s his personal sanctuary

- you ALWAYS have marks on your cheeks from his bitting and nibbling whenever you two fuck

- because of this one of his personal positions is doggy, this man needs to hit it from the back

- eyes wandering down to watch your sss smack against his pelvis as he grins your hips and sets the pace for you both.

- has definitely pulled out mid stroke and buried his face into your soft pussy lips. gripping them fat of you ass cheeks back while his tongue wildly explored your wet cunt.

- you can only gasp and let out a pornographic moan as your eyes roll to the back of your skull “t-toji…daddy…ahhh!”

- loved LOVES coming inside you, but painting your ass with his white pearly cum is a bonus too

- also cumming on your face

- Toji makes you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, and it’s because he knows you are. He knows men are lined up ready to be with you. Who wouldn’t!! Your a man’s dream and Toji has it in his head that every man that looks your way wants you

- It honestly offends him

- Which is why he always throughly enjoys coming on your face

- His hand moving quick against his cock, red tip leaking pre- cum begging for release, his other hand petting your hair, moving your hair from your face. His thumb slipping into your mouth. Warm muscles wrapping around his digit. You looked so innocent yet so fucking dirty at the same time. Your eyelashes fluttering against your tinted cheeks. His eyes wandering down to look at your plump lips. His thumb fully engulfed as your tongue swirls around it. Your start bobbing your head, mimicking you ducking his cock and his pace around himself starts to stutter.

- Toji swears he’s about to have a heart attack when he wants you tug your tank top down letting your tits spill out for him

- he cums on your face

- Is into taking pictures and photos of you, he keeps them safely in a password and Face ID locked folder on his phone

- is obsessed when you send him pictures while he’s away on business trips or conferences

- One time he had been gone for two full weeks, scheduled to fly back the next day.

- Toji’s had a glass shot glass up to his scarred lip, tossing it back, basking the feeling of success and new beginnings for him. He knew the deal would go off without a hitch. He was Toji Fushiguro after all, he didn’t waste his time.

- A light buzz caught his attention

- His green eyes peered up from his associate , who was happily chatting with one of the investors who was already sold on the idea of investing in Toji’s new expansion of nightclubs in Kabukicho. Japan’s vast nightclub, bars, and restaurant district.

- Picking up his phone Toji smiled at the name

- pretty girl

attachment: 1

- Typing in his password he opened up his messages, his jaw fell slack.

- A 15 second long video of you, your hands playing with your boobs as you sat back in the jacuzzi that he knew too well

- he had it put in your master bathroom shortly after you broke it off, he heard you saying something about being nice to have one to relax your muscles in. he had the money so, why not?

- His finger hovered over the play button, but not before quickly putting the volume all the way down and looked around to make sure no one was in near proximity

- we all know this man is possessive as fuck, doesn’t give two shits that you two are not together because according to Toji

- “tch….Technicalities baby…” he muttered to you when you remind him of the very (annoying) fact.

- his breath hitches when he presses play. Your hair is up, a few strands falling in front of your eyes, soapy tits come into view. Your fingers playing with the soft flesh.

- Toji at that point couldn’t be more jealous of soap bubbles in his life.

- He shivers and feels his pants tighten against his skin.

- The video ends with your smirk on your plump lips. Eyes saying ‘fuck me’ and of course he would if he was there.

- Toji mutters grumpily at your teasing, angry he couldn’t be at home giving you what you desperately need.

- His girl needs to be fucked and he’s away in another country , what an inconvenience for the both of you

- he quickly types a response before getting up to say goodbye to his brand new investors and excuse himself back to the hotel room.

- ‘naughty girl, you better be ready for me by the time I get back to my room or else you don’t come at all tomorrow when I get there’

- Although Toji is a very dominate man, he’s also the softest man for you. You bask it in, and sometimes you never want to let it go. Whenever he’s making love to you on the bed. Passionate sex filled with words of promise and sorrys. Toji lets himself melt into you as you moan into his shoulder while he whispers the sweetest words to you. It often leaves you wondering if you would ever find a man that was willing to give you as much as him.

- it scared the shit out of you.

- “oh fuck baby…babybaby…mmm….mean so much to me. Fuck ‘yer so perfect”

- “Cant ever be with another woman, you’re the only one of me beautiful…You’re the only one for me. This sweet pussy was made for me, takes me so well.”

- “I love you so much beautiful”

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji smut #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fluff #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro x reader #toji imagine #jjk toji #toji fanart #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro fluff #jujutsu kaisen fic #toxic baby daddy toji!

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