#the final stream drawing -v-

[an-albino-pinetree]

Second special menu item: The Obelisk ✨

@actuallynickels @justtheclippy @vixenvtuber @kovox 🍔

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I’m your god

cw: religious imagery, questioning of God, sex in church bathroom, p in v, you call church bullshit, a lot of cussing…

a/n: my kickstart to angel!reader !

You didn’t believe in God.

Not really, anyway. It was merely a facade you crafted for your parents, a delicate mask worn to maintain their “precious reputation.” This was the belief system was instilled and drilled into your head from a young age, a doctrine you were taught to never question. At the age of eight, a flicker of doubt ignited within you, yet you chose to play the part of your parents’ “darling little girl”, continuing the charade.

Inside your twisted little head, Rafe was your God. And you were his little angel. His servant. His devotee. His. Only his.

As you stepped into the church, the scent of polished wood and old hymnals enveloped you. You plastered on a wide, false smile while you held the oak door open with an exaggerated flourish for the congregation streaming in.

The warm chatter of familiar faces filled the air. The pastor, had asked you personally, recognizing your family's long-standing bond with the church, to do this job. Hold open the doors and greet the people coming in, hand them flyers, it was easy enough.

Your parents, with their insistent nudges and pointed looks, had driven you to take on this role, leaving you feeling like a puppet on a string. So, you resigned yourself to the expectation, reminding yourself to embody the good girl everyone admired—even if the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Your smile faltered when you caught notice of him. The last person you expected Rafe Cameron was in a church. He smiled at you, you smiling back.

“Hey, sweetie!” Ward greeted you, stepping aside to wrap his arms around you. Rafe also stepped aside, his hands in his pockets as he watched you hug his father.

“Hey, Mr. Cameron!” You spoke, offering a smile to your boyfriend who was behind Ward. He pulled away, you giving Rafe a hug next, before giving him a small, seemingly innocent and cute kiss on his cheek.

You and Rafe locked eyes for a moment, before Ward interrupted.

“Why don’t you go on ahead, Rafe?” Ward spoke, waving his hand. Rafe’s smile fell, nodding along, before walking away to the rest of his family.

“You know, I really feel the need to express my gratitude to you,” he said. “I think you’re truly making a difference in his life. He actually asked to join us for church this morning,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, can you believe it? That hasn’t happened in years!” A broad smile spread across his face as he glanced at you, you nodding in agreement.

“God will do that to you.” You replied, and god, You were too good at this. He so fucking believed that. “I’m so glad, Mr. Cameron.” You smiled at him sweetly, him patting your shoulder before walking to the rest of his family.

As the service started, the air felt heavy with incense and the rhythmic cadence of the pastor’s voice drifted over the congregation.

Your gaze flickered to the side, where Rafe loomed in your vision. He stood in the shadows, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if you were a fragile deer caught in the predatory gaze of a wolf. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, while the rest of his family sat beside him, oblivious to the charged tension that crackled between the both of you.

Your gaze kept drifting back to him, that undeniable pull drawing your attention. Suddenly, a vibration from your phone in your lap broke your attention. You quickly shifted the device to your side, careful to shield it from your parents, and stole a glance at the screen. You looked at the message, excitement flowing through you at the words.

rafe ! 🫶

bathroom.

You cast one final glance at him, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your chest. As you rose from your chair, you gently smoothed the fabric of your dress, ensuring every wrinkle was gone before you stepped away. Leaning toward your parents, you whispered you were going to the bathroom. They merely waved you off, their expressions full of indifference.

You swung open the doors that led into the narrow hallway where the bathroom door was slightly ajar. You leaned against the cool wall, your heart racing as you waited for him. When you heard the door open, your eyes went to him, noting the way he darted his gaze around, taking in his surroundings and making sure no one else was around. Finally, he made his way toward you, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans.

You got on the tips of your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth moving against yours. He let out a quiet groan when you put your tongue into his mouth, his hands traveling your body. He put his hands on yours ass, gently patting it. You jumped up, him holding you as he walked backwards intro the bathroom, locking it behind him.

“Oh, fuck.” You breathed out, your back hitting the cold tile wall. His hands fiddled with his belt buckle, pulling it down and his pants pooled to the floor. He bunched your little white dress up, pulling your panties to the side.

“We gotta be quick, baby. My parents-“ you started, before he cut you off with a kiss.

“Your parents can suck my dick.” He retorted, “I don’t give a fuck.” He panted out, his lips ghosting yours as he pulled his hard cock out, putting it to your entrance. The both of you panted, your breath mingling together

“Oh shit,” you cried out when he slowly slid in, his mouth moving to your neck, letting out a low chuckle, his hot breath on your neck. He left open mouth kisses on your neck, gliding his tongue and his teeth over your soft skin.

“Rafe.” You cried out when he continued to slide into your warm, velvety walls. He was so deep, yet half of him wasn’t even inside of you.

“I’m barely even in, angel.” He spoke mockingly, you could feel the grin he had on his face. He looked up, moving away from your neck.

“And you know you have to be quiet. Wouldn’t want your precious little parents to find you here, watching you get fucked by your ‘sweet, cute, little boyfriend.’”

You nodded, hiding your own face in his shoulder, wrapping your arms tighter around him. You looked almost like a koala hugging a tree branch.

He breathed out as he pulled out of you, before his hips bucked back into your warmth. You let out a cry, your hands bunching up the shirt he had on, tears falling onto it.

You could already hear your pastors voice ringing in your head. Don’t fall a victim to lust, but you couldn’t find yourself to care when Rafes hands were sliding down your thighs and his slender fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Oh god, oh my god.” you cried out.

“I’m your god, baby. Say it. Say I’m your god.” He spoke breathily.

“You’re-“ you were cut off by a particularly hard thrust.

“Say it.” He repeated.

“You’re my god!” You spoke while you came, hiding your face into his neck.

He grinned once again, his hips slowing for a moment, before he shot his seed into you, painting your walls. He groaned out, the both of you relishing in the after. You moved your legs from his waist, and stood up on wobbly legs.

He smoothed out your dress, pulling your panties to the side for you, collecting the mixes of both of you on his finger, before shoving his finger into your mouth.

You grabbed his wrist, letting out a moan on his digit as you swirled your tongue around it. He removed his finger from your mouth with a ‘pop’, and a sick smirk made its way onto his face.

“How’d you even keep me up for that long?” You asked with a giggle, wiping the remnants of the liquid from your lips.

He flexed his muscles with a smirk, you rolling your eyes and giggling at him. “It’s what I work out for.”

Your smile fell when you looked down at the Apple Watch on your wrist, grimacing now.

“What?”

“We’ve been gone for like 10 minutes, ray!”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Who cares? Just say you got your period or some shit.”

“What about you?” You asked him with a pout, leaning closer into the mirror, fixing your makeup and hair, looking at him through the reflection.

“I’ll say I couldn’t help myself and was having sex with my super sexy girlfriend.” He replied, leaning against the wall, staring at you from the mirror.

“Rafe!” Your cheeks warmed up at his dirty words, him smiling.

He laughed, “Nah, nah, I’ll just say I ran into some old lady and helped her or something. I don’t know.”

You let out a soft sigh, amusement dancing across your features as you turned to face him. Your lips formed a small, sad pout as you gazed up into his eyes.

“I don’t wanna go back,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. As if sensing your reluctance, his hands found their way to your waist, drawing you in closer, enveloping you in his warmth. “Everything they say is bullshit, anyways,” you continued.

“Then don’t.” He replied, as if it was that easy.

“I have to.” You let out a weary sigh. You leaned in closer to the boy, pressing your lips softly against his in a gentle kiss that. As you pulled away, your fingers brushed the warmth of his skin before dropping to the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Well, I’m gonna go Toppers' party later, if you want to come.” he said casually. You turned to look at him, your expression curious as you met his gaze over your shoulder. "How about I swing by and pick you up?”

“Sounds good.” You beamed, him moving to your side to kiss you one more time.

“Love you, sweetheart.” He told you, patting your ass once more when you opened the door. You giggling and rolling your eyes at him.

“Love you too, ray. See you.” You blew him a kiss over your shoulder as you left, him smirking to himself, running a hand through his now messy hair, and looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“Damn.” He mumbled, pulling his collar down to look at the marks your lipstick had left from when you kissed his neck, smiling and shaking his head to himself as he pulled it up higher.

With every sinful act you committed, you dug a hole deeper and deeper into hell. You couldn’t find yourself to care, because Rafe was there right next to you, shovel in hand.

[gigabyte-flare]

The Ferocious Beast

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: After an intense night with your wolf Thiren partner, your unsuspecting daughter notices a peculiar mark on your skin. Lycaon wastes no time mischievously adding fuel to the fire.

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: dubcon, unprotected p in v, pinning, biting, mating press, knotting, breeding kink, creampie, pregnancy mention

A/N: This came to be thanks to the horny thoughts of myself and @vampiricgf and my equally horny thoughts of Lycaon being a dad. I dedicate this to all my Lycaon besties in the little community we made on here! Line break divider by cafekitsune

You had no idea what had gotten into him. You had come home from work to find Lycaon making dinner, same as any other evening; your six year old daughter having come home a couple hours prior from school. She was sitting at the kitchen table drawing another picture of her Mommy and Daddy with her beloved crayons. Your heart warmed when you saw her tiny little ears flick forward at your arrival, wasting no time to jump up from her chair to give you a hug and welcome you home. Meanwhile, Lycaon simply looked over at you, a smirk crossing his lips before returning his attention to making dinner. He was strangely quiet for the rest of the evening until he put your daughter to bed.

You didn't even have time to react, immediately upon entering the bedroom, Lycaon had shut and locked the bedroom door and pinned you face first into your shared bed. Your pants were an absolute goner, having been torn off you and discarded before burying his face into your folds, inhaling your scent deeply.

"It took everything in me not ravish you as soon as you walked through the front door…" Lycaon had said with a breathy growl before gliding his tongue from your throbbing clit to your leaking hole.

Your body had shuddered, your fingers gripping into the sheets as your knees dug into the mattress, completely at Lycaon's mercy as he fucked you with this tongue. It wasn't until this very moment with your torso being pressed into the mattress by one of Lycaon's massive hands on your back as his cock rams into you that you realize that he is in his rut. His other hand gripping your hip like a vice, feeling his claws dig into your skin as you feel your cunt begin to stretch around his knot with each of his powerful thrusts.

Abruptly, he pulls out. You begin to whine in protest as drool spills from the corner of your mouth when he flips you over onto your back, his hands spreading your legs open to settle his hips against yours. His throbbing member has no trouble slipping back inside and he takes your legs and drapes them onto his shoulders, practically folding you in half as he resumes his grueling pace inside you. Grasping both your wrists, he pins your hands above your head as he lets out a guttural growl, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"Let me give you my knot, my little dove…" he moans into you, his thrusts becoming slower but more powerful.

That nickname sends chills straight to your cunt, feeling your walls squeeze around his cock as his knot threatens to seal the two of you together.

A couple of tears involuntarily stream down the sides of your face as you nuzzle your face against his; finally, you give him a subtle nod before whispering, "go ahead, Lycaon…"

With a snap of his hips, you feel his knot pop inside you, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix with each thrust now. His instincts taking hold, his cock aggressively rabbits into you, his claws digging into your wrists as he practically fucks you into the mattress. He lets out another growl as his thrusts become more erratic until finally he pushes himself as deep inside you as he possibly can, his powerful jaw latching onto the crook of you neck as he comes. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you come undone with him, moaning his name as your legs quiver on his shoulders as he pumps you full of his seed.

Once he comes down from his high, Lycaon's entire body weight collapses on top of you after moving your legs off his shoulders, feeling his tongue lap up where he had sunk his teeth into your neck as his arms wrap around your body. You drape your arms around his shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze as you kiss the side of his muzzle. Meanwhile your legs gently wrap around his waist, knowing full well his knot is going to keep the two of you sealed together for a majority of the night. It doesn't take long for exhaustion to consume you both and you drift into a dreamless sleep.

The smell of breakfast and coffee drags you from the realm of sleep, your eyes fluttering open only to wince at the sun pouring in from the windows, the gentle late summer breeze caressing your senses. You let out a loud yawn as you sit up in bed; Lycaon is unsurprisingly already up. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, your legs still a little wobbly from the previous night's escapade. Also unsurprisingly, you find Lycaon had already cleaned you up; how he didn't wake you is beyond you.

Putting on one of Lycaon's button up shirts and a pair of pajama shorts, you slowly make your way out into the kitchen, where you find your daughter and Lycaon already eating breakfast at the kitchen table. Upon seeing you come in, Lycaon immediately stands up.

"Good morning, my love," he says as he opens the oven, taking out a plate that he had been keeping warm for you, "I made you some pancakes with bacon. I do hope you enjoy them."

He sets the plate down just as you take a seat. You look up at him, smiling warmly at him as he walks back over to his seat to finish eating breakfast.

"Good morning, Mommy!" your daughter cheerfully greets you before biting a forkful of pancakes, a big smile spreading across her lips, "Daddy always makes the best pancakes!"

"He sure does, sweetie," you reply softly before taking a bite, closing your eyes to savor the flavor; fluffy and cooked just right.

"What's that on your neck?" your daughter suddenly asks.

Your eyes snap open, your right hand reaching over and feeling where Lycaon's teeth hand sunk into your neck the night before. You don't doubt that there's bruising, too.

Before you can even think of formulating some kind of response, Lycaon replies to your daughter's query as he takes a sip from his coffee mug, "your mother was attacked by a ferocious beast last night."

You look over at Lycaon just as he lowers his mug, the most devious smirk crossing his lips as he gives you a knowing look in his exposed eye. Your heart palpitating in your chest, you kick him under the table, which is immediately followed by a sharp pain going up your leg when your toes make contact with the metal of one of his prosthetic legs.

"Sh-- Ow!" you hiss silently as you reach down to massage your toes.

"What was that?!" your daughter once again asks.

"That would be the ferocious beast eating your mother's toes." Lycaon replies nonchalantly, that smirk still on his face as he closes his eye while taking another sip from his coffee.

"Oh no, not Mommy's toes!"

"Lycaon!" you say as you give him a playful shove to his shoulder.

You weren't sure if it was instinct or fate that a few weeks later, you decide to pick up a pregnancy test at the store after work. You can't say you were entirely surprised when the result came up positive.

[alsofoundinpeas]

I Don't Need To Know

Summary: Spencer Reid has no choice but to watch the love of his life fall in love with another man. 

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Major character death. HEAVY angst. Bittersweet ending? Graphic depictions of violence (for maybe two lines). Fingering (f receiving). P in v sex/unprotected sex (in terms of a condom, birth control is mentioned). Loss of virginity (both m and f). Creampie (god I hate that word ugh!!). Slight age gap (roughly five years). Argument scene that may be triggering for readers that have experienced SA or manipulation from a partner (nothing of that nature actually happens, but just in case).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: This is inspired by Will He by Joji, so I highly recommend listening to it while reading. I cried several times while writing this, but I felt it needed to be done so here it is. :’) Please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :) (I also ask that my work not be uploaded to other platforms or translated without my explicit permission. Thank you!)

I got knots all up in my chest… Just know, I’m trying my best…

Spencer had always found the saying “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” absurd. He couldn’t fathom willingly letting go of something he loved on the off chance that it would come back to him. Not after having everything he’d ever loved ripped from his clutches throughout his lifetime. To him, love wasn’t about releasing someone to see if they’d return. It was about holding on as though his very survival depended on it—like a feral cat finally finding food after days of hunger, sinking its teeth in and never letting go, no matter the cost. 

It wasn’t until today that Spencer finally understood the meaning of that stupid phrase. And he wished with every intricate thread of his being that he didn’t. 

Five years. Five long, agonizing years had passed. So why was he here now? Why, after what felt like an eternity of pleading for just one more moment with her, did the universe decide now was the time to give him what he wanted? 

Ironically, the timing only drove home another phrase he’d always hated: “Be careful what you wish for.” 

There she was, as beautiful as the day he’d met her, sitting in the corner of what had once been their favorite café. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches on her ring, the enticing glinting of the jewelry drawing his eyes away from her face momentarily. His heart is in his throat. She’s still wearing the wedding ring he’d given her, twisting it in the same nervous fashion she always used to. 

And there across from her is a man that isn’t him making her smile. 

‘Cause when you look… When you laugh… When you smile… I’ll bring you back…

Spencer Reid had never been a particularly angry man. He had his moments—who didn’t?—but he usually considered himself level-headed, patient. But now, watching Y/N hide a bashful smile behind the rim of her mug as she gazed at the man across from her, all Spencer could feel was rage. Raw, unbridled rage. It flared up inside him as her head tipped back, the sound of her laughter crashing over him like a tidal wave, stirring his veins with a violent rush. The same sound he’d yearned to hear again for five fucking years. And it was all because of him—Ben. 

That was his girl. His perfect, beautiful girl. The love of his life. His angel. 

All Spencer could do was stand there, feeling every broken shard of his non-existent heart pierce his chest. 

And now I’m sad… And I’m a mess… And now we high… That’s why I left… That’s why I left…

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Spencer had never wanted to leave her. But that choice wasn’t his to make. 

That cold, cruel September night six years ago had robbed Spencer of his very existence. 

Everything that could have gone wrong during that case did. The bullet wasn’t meant for him, but he took it anyway. He had traded his life in exchange for JJ’s. It wasn’t even meant to be heroic. It wasn’t done out of love. It was just instinct. It’s who he was as a person. 

Was. 

The word leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Because that’s his reality now. He was a person; an agent, a professor, a son, a husband…

Now he’s… well, that he didn’t quite understand. As a man of science, Spencer was stumped by what he could even call his existence now. Calling himself a ghost felt silly—he felt as alive as the day he’d died. And yet, that was essentially what he was. A whisper of the person he’d once been. A soul caught between worlds. 

Spencer could still feel the exact moment his soul wrenched free from its physical tether to the world. Even recalling it sent a shiver down his spine. It hadn’t been peaceful, as so many people claimed in interviews. No… it had been agony in its purest form; white hot and searing as his very essence clawed its way out from his ribs. There was no light waiting for him to step into it and find peace.

Instead, he had watched helplessly as the team he called his family swarmed his dead body, uselessly screaming for a medic as the crimson puddle underneath him grew and smeared beneath their hands as they knelt beside him. He had watched Y/N swing open their door that fateful night, the excited grin on her face vanishing as she came face to face with a tearful Emily instead of the husband she’d been eagerly waiting for. And he had watched the guilt eat away at JJ as their eyes met at his funeral, the hatred on Y/N’s face so raw it made Spencer’s own stomach twist. 

Despite the Bureau's insistence, she took charge of every detail—planning his funeral in a way that honored everything Spencer would have wanted. Y/N held Diana as she wept over her baby boy's body. She delivered a eulogy that left even Spencer in shambles. She was the first person to arrive and the last to leave, waiting until everyone had left to sink to her knees beside his casket and howl her grievances. 

For that first year, Y/N was as strong as she could be during the day. She handled everything that needed to be done, as long as the sun was still up. But when night fell, and the suffocating silence of their empty home settled in… that’s when she’d finally let herself break. 

Spencer had never been a religious man, but the year after his death felt like an endless descent into his own personal hell. He would never escape the sound of those gut-wrenching screams. He cursed whatever force had condemned him to an eternity where he could do nothing but watch, powerless as Y/N crumpled to the floor night after night, her wails so desperate it seemed as though she thought breaking the sound barrier might somehow bring him back to life. 

All he could do was stay beside her, silently pleading for his touch to somehow reach her, his hands brushing over her again and again, unnoticed and unfelt. 

Time was no longer a concept to Spencer. 

The limits of his existence perplexed him. He couldn’t roam freely, couldn’t go where he pleased—he could only follow where Y/N went. It was as if his very soul was bound to hers, linked by some invisible string that kept him tied to her even in death. It brought him both joy and sorrow: joy in the fact that he could still watch her, still admire the way she carried on, and sorrow because she would never know he was there, silently urging her forward, so incredibly proud of her strength. 

The longer he lingered, the more control he gained over his abilities. It started with the smallest things—a strand of hair lifting with the brush of his fingers, a faint chill against her skin as he cradled her face while she slept. But soon, it became more. Doors creaked open as he stepped into rooms behind her, and objects shifted ever so slightly from their places when he pushed with just enough force. 

There were times when she seemed to sense him—moments Spencer cherished more than anything. In those fleeting instances, it felt as though she could see him, even though he knew she couldn’t. Every day, rain or shine, she visited his grave, and when she spoke to him, her gaze would drift forward, as if she were looking into the honey-colored eyes she once loved. Her hands would rest open in her lap, as though she knew he was holding them. When she was home, she’d speak aloud every thought that came to mind, as though she knew he could hear every word that fell from her perfect lips. And he always responded as if she could hear him in return. That was their new life for the first year after his death. 

After a year and one day, he was gone. 

That’s where his understanding of the phrase “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” came from. It was because she had set him free. 

One whole year had passed. The hardest year of Y/N’s life. She had knelt by his grave, laying fresh flowers with trembling hands, her tears falling freely for hours. When she finally stood to leave, her legs unsteady beneath her, she pressed a soft kiss to his headstone. Through her tears, she whispered how much she missed him, how he never left her thoughts, and how she’d never stop loving him—but above all, she wished he could be at peace. And on the night following the anniversary of his passing, her wish was granted. He had faded into nothingness, existing only in her dreams and memories for five long years. 

But now, he was back. Because he had always been hers. 

Will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips? Will your shadow remember the swing of my hips? 

Spencer remembered their first time like it was yesterday, though he wasn’t sure if he could thank his eidetic memory or the fact that it was because of how remarkable it had been for the memory lingering so vividly...

“You’re lying! You’ve really never had sex before?” 

Y/N squawked the words incredulously as she sat atop Spencer’s lap, grinning down at the stammering mess of a man beneath her. Spencer’s hands flexed against her hips, unintentionally squeezing as he took a deep breath to calm himself. 

They were inside Spencer’s apartment, having enjoyed the museum and dinner but still craving each other’s company too badly to end the night there. What started as sweet, innocent pecks pressed up against the kitchen counter had quickly devolved into ravenous, passionate kisses that had them stumbling towards the couch. It was going so well… until Spencer panicked after Y/N had whispered into his ear asking how far he wanted things to go. 

That resulted in him spewing out the fact that he, at twenty-six years old, was a virgin.

“No, I haven’t! Why is that so hard to believe?” Spencer huffs, his small smile belying his annoyed tone. 

It was their sixth date total in a span of four months, but it was their first date as an actual couple. Spencer had reluctantly agreed to let Penelope set him up on a blind date after his failed attempt at taking JJ out had shattered any of the confidence he’d built up, leaving the man petrified of taking his chances romantically again. He suspected Penelope’s pity for him was why she was setting up said date to begin with, but he quickly found himself grateful that he went. 

Y/N had been friends with Penelope for years, having bonded online over some indie punk rock band that was no longer around and developing a close friendship from there despite their age difference. When Penelope found out Y/N had moved to Virginia and was single, she couldn’t resist setting the two up. 

It’s Y/N’s turn to stammer as she quickly thinks of a response. “I, uh… you’re just so handsome that I naturally assumed you’d had sex before.” 

Spencer blinks up at her skeptically, trying to detect even the faintest clue that the otherworldly woman in his lap was lying to him. All he found was nervous adoration as she stared back down at him, her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. It suited her. He wanted to cause it more often. 

“I had, um… I graduated super early from both high school and college, so I didn’t do much dating.” 

Instead of the judgment Spencer expected to see spread across her face, Y/N simply just hummed in understanding, her eyes curious as they watched him. He’d elaborate more on his unfortunate (for lack of a better term) adolescence later. For now, he just wanted to keep from scaring the poor girl off of his lap so he could taste her sweet chapstick again. 

“I see…” Y/N murmurs before continuing, shifting forward slightly with a smirk. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m also a virgin.” 

Spencer’s eyes widened almost comically as he gawked up at her. His heart stutters in his chest, his mouth going dry. His tongue pokes out in a meek attempt at wetting his lips, his voice cracking as he responds. 

“Et tu, Y/N?” 

Oh fuck. Spencer hadn’t meant to let the lame reference slip from his mouth. She just made him so nervous that he couldn’t think straight, and Rome had been heavily on his mind since she had perched herself in his lap. Specifically Roman goddesses, because she looked like she should be amongst them on their thrones. Surely she was going to leave now—-

Loud, genuine laughter bubbles from Y/N’s lips, the noise startling Spencer as she tips her head back and her hands grip his shoulders to stabilize herself. She thought it was funny. She thought he was funny. 

“That’s, like, the last thing I expected you to say,” Y/N managed once her laughter had simmered down into giggles. “But, to answer your question… I too have really never had sex before.” 

Spencer knew that it wasn’t due to a lack of suitors. The woman was sex personified; the archetype of beauty and seduction wrapped into one perfect being. The twitching in his pants brought his attention back to the situation at hand. He could ask her later why that was. For now, he brought his focus back to her. 

In an uncharacteristically bold move, Spencer tilted his head up to brush their noses together. “Would you… would you want to?” 

It didn’t take a profiler to notice the hitch in her breath or the almost imperceptible squeezing of her thighs around his hips. Her pupils were already blown, her lower lip trembling from what Spencer prayed was anticipation and not regret as his question settled over her. The silence stretched between them, the seconds feeling like hours in Spencer’s overly anxious mind. 

He’d done it now. He’d gone off and opened his stupid mouth and frightened the one woman he could actually see himself having a future with because the head straining against his zipper overruled the head housing his supposed genius level IQ. The apologies were already forming in the back of his throat, but they weren’t needed because she— she was kissing him? 

“God, yes. Please,” Y/N murmured eagerly against his lips, effectively clearing every cohesive thought from his brain. 

If Spencer thought her words were enough to bring upon his undoing, he was sorely mistaken. The grinding of her hips against his erection ignited something inside of him that he had no idea existed. It was feral, drowning out all of his other emotions and replacing them with one thing: primal, unfiltered desire. 

Spencer understood now why men used to start wars over women. 

With each gasp that fell upon his ears, Spencer pledged his allegiance to her. Every stuttered moan that came into existence from his hips rutting up into her clothed core fueled his devotion to her. It was animalistic, the way his hands gripped her ass and pulled her tighter against his body as his mouth devoured her now, every cell swimming through his veins screaming for more. More of her touch, more of her taste, more of her sounds... God, those heavenly sounds that had Spencer finally believing in salvation, if only in the form of her skin against his.  

Tongues danced together as layers were hastily stripped away. Layers of insecurity. Layers of self-doubt. Layers of uncertainty. Their clothes fell to the ground as though the fabric burned them, clumsy hands fidgeting with buttons and tugging at zippers with a vendetta. 

Those layers that had crumbled so easily were replaced instead with the firm knowledge that this was exactly where they were meant to be: in each other’s arms, trembling and panting as their world’s trajectory tilted so violently it uprooted them from their upright position, knocking them down against the leather cushions as their bodies attempted to mend their separated souls back into one. 

Spencer choked on the words he wanted to worship her with, so instead he used the most primitive sense he could to get his message across: touch. His lips sucked purpling reminders into the crook of her neck of what they both knew to be true now: He is hers just as much as she is his. Lithe fingers tugged the soaked fabric of her lace panties down until they landed in a heap with their other clothes. Those same fingers pause at the crest of her most intimate spot, his eyes meeting hers with a silent plea. 

Y/N found herself in the same position, her words failing her as they were strangled in her throat by the overwhelming adoration she felt for the man hovering above her. Instead of chanting her desire for Spencer to please touch her, she canted her hips up in approval. 

Her moans were swallowed by swollen lips that claimed the sound straight from her body as nimble fingers dug themselves into the deepest parts of her. Their rhythm was clumsy but steadfast, her hips bucking against his hand in jerky movements as the palm of his hand pressed against her clit. Spencer’s own hips ground against the bare skin of her thigh, shielded only by the immature fabric of his equation-covered boxers. 

Spencer hadn’t for a second thought the night was going to go like this. If he had known he’d have the definition of art itself clawing at his shoulders and panting into his mouth while he made her legs tremble beneath him, he wouldn’t have worn what he deemed his lucky boxers. At least they had done their job, he supposed. 

Their lips separated completely as a guttural moan wrenched its way from Y/N’s throat, her body beginning to thrash wildly underneath him as the tension in her lower belly coiled tighter. Spencer wouldn’t allow her first time to happen on his couch. She was much too precious for that. But he’d already made the decision to unravel her at least once while they were there, to bring her over the edge before taking her into his bedroom so that he could experience the glorious sight of her falling apart more than once tonight. 

Spencer was a virgin, not a prude. He’d seen porn before. He’d read erotic novels. Anything he could use to try to prepare himself for the real experience, he did. But nothing could have prepared him for the downright visceral reaction Y/N had as his fingers curled and brushed against the rough patch of skin inside of her that caused the tension building in her body to snap. Her cries of pleasure tore through him as her pussy clenched around his fingers, his free hand leaving its place beside her head to keep her thighs pried open. He quickly shifted up onto his knees to watch her taking his fingers as she came, taking the pleasure he inflicted upon her. 

He sang her praises while slowing his pace, cooing softly at her as he stroked her hair and worked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Only when she was squirming and whining beneath him did he finally remove his fingers, sucking them into his mouth greedily. Y/N’s mouth gaped open as her chest heaved, her eyes locked on Spencer as his tongue lapped over his fingers, enjoying her essence with a groan. Her body sagged into the couch, a delighted laugh spilling from her exhausted frame as she smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling in the dim light of his living room. 

“Do you still want to keep going?” Spencer breathed as he gazed down at her, his cheeks flushed and eyes full of something that made Y/N's heart flutter. “B-because we can stop there if you want. I just… I want to do what makes you happy.” 

Above her was the man she’d recognized, soft and timid, but now with a newfound air of confidence in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Above her was the man that she wanted more than anything. Above her was the man that she knew, without a shadow of doubt, would be her husband. 

“Spencer… if you don’t fuck me right now, then I’ll die a virgin, right here on your couch... and it will be all your fault.” 

Spencer’s hearty chuckles filled the room, his nose twitching as he grinned down at the dramatic woman. He simply couldn’t let that be her fate, could he? 

Shaking his head, he stooped down to press a gentle kiss to her nose before standing from the couch, offering her his (clean) hand. Y/N’s face twisted in confusion as she stared up at him, still reeling from the earth-shattering orgasm surprisingly given to her by the same man who’d eagerly rambled about the lore behind Doctor Who on their first date when she’d mentioned she hadn’t seen it. 

“Not here, silly girl. The bedroom,” He whispered. 

He guided her down the dark hallway as though he were escorting the most priceless treasure known to man to his bed, and in his eyes, he was. His hand stayed steady on her hip as she swayed lightly, her body pressed into his side as he opened the door with shaky hands. Any confidence Spencer had managed to muster throughout the night vanished as they crossed the threshold into his bedroom, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip gently as his courage began to crack. 

In an almost startling display of being seen, something Spencer had never experienced before, Y/N looped her arms around his neck and tugged him into a kiss that simultaneously stole the breath from his lungs and filled him with the air he needed to breathe again, effectively calming his nerves.

“It’s okay,” She reassured him against his lips. “It’s just me.” 

She walked them backward until the backs of her knees pressed into his cool comforter, taking over where Spencer so willingly handed her the reigns while he regained his momentum. She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands pressed into his hips to keep him from following after her. Her eyes met his, the moonlight streaming through his bedroom window illuminating her as though she were a vision, a figment of his imagination that he’d conjured up in the dead of night, ready to haunt his every waking moment once he inevitably woke up to an empty bed. She was too good to be true. 

Spencer’s hands fell to rest on her shoulders, just to give himself proof that Y/N was real and that he hadn’t dreamed her up or somehow followed in his mother’s footsteps and succumbed to early onset schizophrenia. 

She was real and she was here, eye level with the tent in his boxers and naked as the day she was born, her warm breath fanning across the smattering of hair trailing down from his belly button to below his underwear. His muscles tensed and twitched as she smirked up at him, pressing a tender kiss to the head of his cock through the thin fabric. His entire body flinched from that one touch, his brows furrowing together as he hissed quietly. 

“N-not that I wouldn’t love to feel your mouth on me—“ Spencer’s pitch raised as her hands found the elastic of his waistband, pulling his boxers down his legs. “But I… I won’t last if you do.” 

The fondness in her eyes quelled any humiliation he felt from having uttered those words. 

Placing a kiss to his hip, she nodded in understanding before shuffling backwards to lay in the middle of his bed, with him kneeling onto the mattress after her. The sight of her— stretched out and languid and looking at him as if she wanted to ravage him— had him sending up a silent ‘thank you’ to whatever in the universe had deemed him worthy enough of having this divine of a woman in his life. 

As Spencer reaches for his nightstand to grab a condom, Y/N stammers, grabbing his attention. He watches for a moment as she flounders over her words, his brow furrowing in concern at her sudden diffidence. 

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“I’m on birth control if you want to skip the condom!” 

Spencer inhales sharply at the same time she smiles sheepishly up at him, her blurted words almost making him finish before they’d even started. He holds her gaze, tracing her irises for any hint of hesitancy. When he finds none, he nods once, swallowing hard. 

“I— uh. Um...” 

It was rare that Spencer Reid was rendered speechless, but Y/N had managed to do it with just eleven words. He clears his throat, trying again. 

“Yes. Yes, I would like to skip the condom. Only if you’re absolutely sure that’s what you want.” 

“Yes. It is. I pinky promise.” 

Y/N holds up her pinky for him, the sight so endearing he can practically feel his heart melt away, dripping in a sticky mess inside him. He just grins, linking his pinky with hers before he moves to settle over her once more. 

Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair as his elbows dig into the mattress beside her ribs. The flushed head of his cock bumps against her clit as he reaches down to line himself up at her entrance, a small whine leaving her lips at the sensation. He repeats the action, dizzy from the sound of her soft noises. She was still soaked from their time on the couch, a small feeling of pride welling in Spencer’s chest at the knowledge that not only did he make her cum, but he’d kept her wet while they made it here. 

His lips meet hers in a searing kiss, the both of them quivering with anticipation at giving themselves so intimately to someone for the first time. He was happy it was her. And she was happy it was him. 

Spencer couldn’t remember a time where his mind had ever been quiet. All he knew was incessant thoughts and worries, unable to put a halt to the chaos jumbling around his brain. But as he pressed forward and sunk into Y/N for the first time, his entire mind went blank. White static crowded the spaces where various facts and tidbits of information had been stored, the only thing he was able to focus on now being the sheer ecstasy coursing through his body from being inside of her. 

His mouth hung open as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips stilling as they pressed flush against hers. She mirrored his response, squeaking out an “oh!” as her walls fluttered around the intrusion instinctively. He throbbed in response, his head dropping to rest in the crook of her neck, unable to stop the pitiful whimper that escaped from behind clenched teeth. 

She was so tight. So wet. So warm. 

Sparks of pleasure zinged up and down his spine as he remained still, waiting patiently for Y/N to adjust to both his size and to the feeling of being filled for the first time in general. He’d wait as long as she needed him to. All he wanted was for her to feel good. To enjoy this as much as he was. 

He was a humble man, truly. But even he wasn’t too shy to admit he’d been gifted with a size that was bigger than average. Not necessarily just in length, falling just shy of seven inches, but in girth as well.  

Spencer peppered soft kisses up and down her flushed skin, feeling her rapid pulse beneath his lips. He was sure she could feel his own heartbeat pounding against his ribs from where their bare chests were pressed together. Her nipples were taut, pressing into his skin enticingly. He wanted to touch them. Taste them. But he’d wait until she was ready. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. 

At her gentle nod, Spencer lifted his head to press his forehead against hers, their lips brushing together as he pulls his hips back. The sensation of her grip tightening in his hair as he pushed forward does more to him than he’d care to admit, but he still lets her hear just how affected he is by her. With a shaky moan, Spencer repeats the motion, easing out of her before gently rocking back into her. He keeps this up for a few minutes, her sharp breaths dissolving into muted moans of her own. 

“You can— you can move faster if y-you want.” 

Spencer’s eyes flutter shut at her words, and he’s pressing a fervent kiss to her lips before he begins to really move. The sound of skin smacking together begins to fill the air as he ruts his hips into hers, his walls bearing witness to every pleasured noise that spills between them. His pace is frenzied, his rhythm stuttered, but it feels so good that neither of them really care. 

Y/N’s nails roamed his body now, alternating between dragging harsh lines into the planes of his back and burying into his shoulders to leave little tender half moons in their wake. Spencer yearned to pull every single noise that he could from her throat, planting his hands beside her head and hefting himself up for better leverage before his lips wrapped around her right nipple. He sucks harshly at the pert bud, reveling in the desperate whimper it causes. 

Spencer grunts when she clenches around him, letting his mouth glide over to her neglected breast, his hips hammering into hers now as she cries out his name over and over. He was close… so, so close. But he needed to make her cum one more time before he’d allow himself to. He needed to know what it felt like for her to fall apart around his cock. With every ounce of willpower he had, Spencer slows his hips to a stop inside of her. 

Y/N whined her discontent at his sudden pause, her eyes opening to blink hazily up at him. “Why’d you… why’d you stop?” She panted, her fingers finding and twisting her own nipples as if she couldn’t help but to touch herself. 

Spencer muffled a curse at the sight, sitting back on his haunches as he stared down at the woman beneath him with reverence. 

“Flip onto your stomach for me, angel.”

She does as instructed, wiggling her hips coyly as Spencer grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and stuffs it underneath her hips to prop her up better, ensuring she’d be comfortable. Once she’s settled on her front, Spencer wasted no time in pressing himself back into her, both of them releasing a moan so loud he’s surprised the walls don’t shake. Thank God he didn’t have neighbors right now. 

He eased himself down so his chest is pressed to her back, lavishing her neck and shoulder in open mouthed kisses while his hips drilled into her. This angle was deeper, allowing him to plow directly into her g-spot as she writhed and begged incoherently beneath him. He laced his left hand with hers, shoving them into his mattress. His other hand stuffed itself between the pillow and her wriggling body until the pads of his fingers found her clit, his breath coming out in sharp pants into her ear. 

Y/N felt delirious with pleasure, bucking her hips back in a feeble attempt to meet his. He began whispering into her ear about how good she felt around him, thanking her for allowing him to fuck her, praising her for taking him so well… 

His words paired with his fingers circling her clit have her second orgasm ripping through her body with so much ferocity that tears begin to fall down her cheeks, her eyes squeezing shut and her hand clutching his so tightly her knuckles whitened as she wailed into a pillow, gushing around him. 

Spencer let out his own guttural moan at the feeling, spilling into her with a shout as he planted his head between her shoulder blades, his hips weakly thrusting into her as they rode out their climaxes. 

He held her until her tremors stopped. He kissed her forehead before he darted off to the bathroom to get a warm rag to clean her with. He thanked her in soft whispers as her eyes began to drift shut before he’d even finished cleaning his mess between her thighs. 

And he knew, watching the gorgeous woman before him sleep so soundly in his bed after they’d just defiled each other’s innocence, that he was looking at his future wife. 

Will your lover caress you the way that I did? Will you notice my charm if he slips up one bit? 

The air was thick with tension as Y/N stared at Ben, her chest heaving and eyes watering at the hurt look on his face. Spencer watched from the corner, his concern for his wife outweighing the jealousy he had previously felt when he watched the couple slip into her— though he still selfishly thought of it as their— bed. Y/N had been dating Ben for three months now. That made for three months that Spencer ached so heavily he’d sometimes wish he could fade back into nothingness if it meant he didn’t have to watch the love of his life with another man. 

The furthest Ben and Y/N had gone physically was a few pecks here and there, with Y/N always being the one to draw away and cut the kisses short. Ben had played the nice guy act, reassuring her that he understood her hesitance and that he’d be okay doing whatever she was comfortable with. Spencer despised him. He could see right through Ben’s facade, and if he could do more than nudge a door open, he’d make that hatred known. But he couldn’t. 

Spencer watched on with furrowed brows as Y/N reached a shaky hand over and turned the lamp on her nightstand on, illuminating the dark room in a soft glow that contrasted with the dark energy that began to cloud the small space. Spencer could see it all on Ben’s face: hurt, betrayal, anger. He could see the fear, guilt, and shame on Y/N’s. 

This was the first night Y/N had tried to push past her discomfort so that she could offer Ben more than just false promises of physical intimacy. It started slow, with soft kisses that dissolved into hungrier ones as they laid together in the dark. But the second Ben went to roll on top of her, sliding a hand down her body to pull her hips against his, she panicked. Her body jolted, and her hands had shot out instinctively to shove him off of her, leaving them where they were now in some sort of silent standoff. 

Spencer knew as soon as it had happened just why it did. She had thought of him. His guilt overruled the smug pleasure he’d felt as he watched it unfold. As painful as it had been watching Y/N move on with her life, all he ultimately wanted was for her to be happy. Spencer had been barely thirty-five when he passed, and she had only been thirty. That left almost an entire lifetime ahead for her, and even though he so desperately wanted to have lived that lifetime with her, he had to accept that that wasn’t what fate had in store for them. 

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened at the same time Y/N’s dropped. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N leveled Ben with a narrowed glare, rage flashing in her eyes in place of the shame that had just been there. 

“I get that you have a dead husband. I’ve tried to be patient with you. But fuck! It's been six years, Y/N. It’s time for you to move on,” Ben seethes, his face reddening with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “I can’t even touch you without you flinging me off of you!” 

It’s as though Y/N is the exact physical embodiment of Spencer’s own emotions, physically reacting in the way that he can’t. She was out of the bed before Spencer could even blink, marching over to the bedroom door and yanking it open. Ben watches in bewilderment, his mind clearly not catching up with what was happening. 

“Get out of my fucking house.” 

Y/N’s voice is cold as she stares menacingly at Ben. When he doesn’t move, she speaks again, her voice louder. “Get out of my fucking house, Ben!” 

Ben stammers, standing from the bed and attempting to plead his case. “Babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just-”

“I don’t care. Get out of my house,” Y/N repeats herself, cutting off his pathetic excuses. 

Spencer smirks proudly from beside her.

 That’s his girl. 

Ben sighs, hanging his head and scrubbing his hands frustratedly across his face. 

“If you kick me out over some guy that’s been dead for six years, then we’re over. For good.” 

Spencer cackles at Ben’s proposition, though it can’t be heard by either party in the room. That was his attempt at fixing things? Seriously? Good riddance. He’d drag the guy out of there himself if he could. 

“If I haven’t made myself clear, we’re already over. No one talks about my husband like that. Now get out before I call the police and have you escorted off of my property.” 

It doesn’t take long after that for Ben to tuck his tail and leave, slamming the front door on his way out. Y/N’s steam runs out the second his car pulls out of her driveway, tears streaming down her face as she curls up on her couch. 

Spencer’s own chest twinges uncomfortably as he sits beside her, stroking her hair despite her inability to actually receive the comfort. He didn’t know what hurt more; watching his beautiful, broken girl sob and not being able to stop her tears, or being the cause of the tears himself. He had to do something, anything to let her know he was still there and that he still loved her beyond death. 

The same time Spencer stands is the same time Y/N’s tears pause, a hiccup rocking her frame before she glances up. 

“Spence?” Y/N calls softly. Spencer’s heart would have stopped right there had he not already been dead.

Spencer turns slowly from his place at the end of the couch, his eyes wide and hopeful as he responds. “Yes, angel?” 

His hope fades as he realizes she isn’t looking at him, rather her eyes are just darting around the room. 

“Spencer I… I know it’s been awhile since I’ve talked to you. And for that, I’m so sorry,” Y/N starts, her voice cracking. “I don’t know if you can even hear me. Or if you ever could. But I miss you. I miss you in my bones. I just… you were— are my everything.” 

The lump in her throat grows as the tears begin to stream down her face again. Spencer’s own eyes sting with tears that she’ll never see drip down his face. He swallows hard, making his way over to their— yes, their— bookshelf. 

“I’d give anything to have you back in my arms… I should have begged you to leave the BAU and just teach full-time if it meant I could still have you here, safe and at home. It’s not even a home without you.” 

Y/N sobs freely now, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before she buries her head into them. 

Every ounce of grief, guilt, sadness, and anger from what his death has done to his precious girl fuels Spencer to do something he deemed impossible: he yanks the leatherbound notebook holding their vows inside of it off of the bookshelf, sending it tumbling to the ground in a desperate attempt to show her that he’s still there and that he still loves her. 

The noise causes a yelp to slip from Y/N’s lips, her head jerking up as the book hits the hardwood floor with a loud thump. It had fallen open exactly to where Spencer wanted it to: the page starting his vows to her.  Y/N crawled from the couch to the book, her trembling hands lifting the journal so that she can read the words her husband wrote to her ten years ago. With a deep exhale, she sits cross-legged on the hardwood floor, reading Spencer’s chicken scratch he called handwriting with a heavy heart. And for the first time since his casket closed, she feels a sense of peace wash over her. She was going to be okay, despite it all, because he was hers just as much as she was his.

Continued A/N: Ahh!! Ghost!Spencer my beloved. :') JUST TO CLARIFY: I am not a JJ hater!! It just fit better for the story to have her be the one this all happened for. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this fic just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I look forward to sharing more in the future with you as my blog grows <3

K <3

[l0velysmut]

can you write about inexperienced neteyam having sex for the first time and hes a whimpering moaning mess?

neteyam x fem!na’vi!reader

contains: poorly written short smut, aged up!neteyam, inexperienced neteyam, virginity loss, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie.

wc: 740 unedited

You and Neteyam lay in the mossy bed on the ground of the forest. The light was dim, and the breeze was chilling but both of your bodies were heated and needy so nothing about the environment around you mattered at that moment.

“Are you sure?” He stares at you, holding his cock in his hand and slowly dragging it up and down your slit before pressing it to your entrance when you nod your head.

“Use your words, sevin.” He says in a low voice.

“I’m sure. I want this, Neteyam. I want you. I need you.” Your words and the way they came out in such a desperate tone was enough to make him cum all over your pussy, but he tried to calm his breathing before slowly pushing the tip in because he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

He sighed out in pleasure as your cunt engulfs his tip, clenching around it. His eyes are closed as he leans down and presses his forehead to your shoulder, feeling your hands snake into his braids.

Your hips bucked against him in a way to tell him to push in deeper, and when he did, he could’ve sworn he was seeing stars. This new feeling was so overwhelming to the point where Neteyam was getting dizzy. His mind was baffled at how good this felt; he always imagined how you felt when he would jerk off to the thought of you, but the real thing is so much more then he was expecting.

“Oh my- Fuck…” He whimpers when he finally bottoms out, his ears falling flat against his head once he realizes how pathetic he must’ve sounded. You giggle softly, stroking his hair as you clench around him to stimulate him a bit.

He feels his cheeks get awfully hot and hides his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and not being able to lift himself off.

“You can move, Neteyam.” You tell him softly.

“I know, just.. Just give me a second. It’s- You- Shit. You just feel really fucking good.” He stutters out shakily. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, making you hum in pleasure.

He inhaled your scent deeply before drawing his hips back then pushing back into you, his cock passionately submerged in your wet heat that sang out for him with each sloppy thrust.

You moaned and he lifted his head to look at you which was a mistake because the second he saw your face contorted with pleasure, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his length spurted out long and thick streams of cum into you. He whined and whimpered into your skin, holding onto you for dear life as intense waves of euphoria crashed over him.

“Oh, great mother. Forgive me. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ He began to ramble, but you grabbed his cheeks and kissed him on the lips. He melted into the kiss, pushing his body further against you which caused his cock to push further into you. You could feel his warm cum inside of you, and you clenched around him which made him moan into the kiss.

“It’s okay. It’s your first time; I was kinda expecting you to finish fast.” You tell him and he looks away in embarrassment, but you tilt his chin up to look at you. “If you’re able to handle it, maybe I could get on top and we could keep going?”

Your suggestion nearly made him cum inside you again, and he nodded quickly, cock twitching inside you. You smiled and flipped the two of you over, his calloused hands resting on the plush on your hips, squeezing as if telling you to move.

“If it’s too much, just tell me, okay?” You say, and he nods, mumbling a small ‘okay’ before you began to roll your hips.

He sighed out, wanting to savor this moment and live in it forever. He dreaded the moment you lifted yourself up and off of his cock, so he pushed you down onto him the best he could whilst supporting your hips to bounce up and down his length.

This was it. This was the feeling he’s been needing for so long. Something to take his mind off of all the responsibilities that stressed him out, something to use as a stress reliever. And, thank Eywa he had you now.

[nvareim]

bite me, v. garza x fem! reader

tags; predator/prey, fearplay, dacryphilia, degradation, drugging, thigh riding, stalking, dubcon and toxic dynamics. MDNI w/c; 4.4k ao3 link | pinterest board a/n; never arguining with a woman with big brown eyes, whatever u say gorgeous

The streets of Las Almas are still blood-stained the day you escape.

It’s been quieter since the Shadows combed through the city, killing anything that moved. The dogs no longer bark, kids don’t play in the streets, and the armed men who roamed every alley are few and far between. It’s the perfect opening. You spend the morning preparing. 

You pack lightly, only the things you’re sure you’ll need. Clothing for layering, socks, underwear, and cash. It all fits nicely in a backpack you can easily carry. You leave both of your phones on the nightstand, the backs pried off and batteries neatly stacked atop each other. 

The better part of an hour is spent prying at the metal collar around your neck. You pry at the latch until your fingers are bloody, picking at the screw that holds it together. As a last resort, you use the point of a utility knife. You sit just inches away from the mirror, neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle as you slowly unscrew the locking mechanism. You’re stock-still, barely breathing out of fear the blade will slip. 

 The second the collar unlatches, you rip it from around your neck and throw it aside. It slides across the floor, hitting the baseboard with a heavy thud. You take deep, ragged breaths as you study your reflection. The lack of weight around your neck is foreign. With it gone, your decision is final. There’s no turning back now.

Las Almas is teeming with Mexican soldiers. They pace the Greyhound station, X12s strapped to their thighs and rifles slung across their chests. Their watchful eyes follow you as you pay for your ticket in cash with shaky hands. The old woman in the booth hardly scrutinizes your forged papers, clicking away at her keyboard as she logs information. She slides your ticket through the opening in the plexiglass, wishing you a safe trip. 

You practically fall onto a bench, sighing as you hug your bag close to your body. Rain pours down from the roof, streaming toward the storm drains. The air is thick and warm with moisture, heavy on your skin. You bounce your knee nervously as you wait for the bus to round the corner. 

When it does arrive, you’re the first to board. You snag a window seat at the very back where you can watch every passenger enter. You hold your breath with each new rider, nervously anticipating Valeria or one of her men to be the next passenger. It isn’t until the bus is pulling away from Las Almas that you feel the weight lift from your chest, though just barely.

Your journey north becomes a slow crawl. The best ticket you could afford brought you just north of Denver. The rest of your cash is rationed out and stuffed beneath your clothing.

In the beginning, the kiss of cool air against your skin is refreshing. It’s a welcome reprieve from the sweltering Mexican heat. A reminder of how far you’ve gotten. But the novelty quickly wears off once the slight chill turns unforgiving. You attempt to adapt by picking up a free coat from a local church and bartering over warmer clothes from thrift stores, but they only do so much to protect you from the bitter cold. Homeless shelters aren’t an option, the lines are longer as the dead of winter draws nearer. By the time you reach Wyoming, you’re running low on money to spend. You resort to stealing food from gas stations and sleeping in alleyways. You spend your days in local libraries, reevaluating your route north and searching for updates on Valeria. Librarians typically quirk a brow at your peculiar behavior, but leave you alone until they close down for the night. 

As the nights grow longer, they become even more difficult to get through. You curl yourself into a ball, your money stuffed into the band of your bra and a knife clutched tightly in your hand lest anyone gets any ideas. Hostels are few and far between and only reserved for nights you’d surely die if you slept outside. 

In early December, you spend a decent chunk of your food budget on a cheap motel room. It’s a shady establishment just outside of a small city, the kind of place you pay for by the hour. Snow flutters down and gathers in the parking lot, the pure white flakes quickly soiled by the gravel beneath. Multicolored Christmas lights are wrapped around the wrought iron railings in honor of the upcoming holiday. A few women smoke in the shadows of the building, seemingly huddling together for warmth. 

Inside the room, The wallpaper peels away to reveal yellow-stained drywall beneath and the heating unit rattles when you turn it on, blowing a small cloud of dust into the room. You refuse to peel away the comforter out of fear of what you’ll find, so you toss a blanket overtop instead. The lingering stench of cigarette smoke and artificial lemon is nearly caustic. 

 You turn the TV on, upping the volume until it’s loud enough to drown out the noise of the heater. The throw beneath you is scratchy and thin, but the bed itself is comfortable enough that you allow yourself to sink into it. With so many miles between you and Valeria, it’s easy to lull yourself into a sense of false security.

You shrug your jacket off to use as a makeshift pillow. It’s a far cry from Valeria’s luxurious bed back in Las Almas, but it’s the best you’ve had in weeks. The steady flow of warm air filling the room thaws the stiff joints in your limbs and loosens the long-held tension in your shoulders. It’s easy to fully settle into the makeshift pillow, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. It’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

It’s pin-drop quiet when you wake up. The constant hum of the heating unit has ceased, though the room has long gone cool. The TV had been shut off, leaving the room completely dark. 

You blink away the last bits of sleep from your eyes, willing your vision to focus. Something primal stirs in your gut, fight or flight instincts urging you to move. The darkness comes into focus slowly, the shape of the furniture comes into focus. So does a figure sitting at the foot of the bed. 

Your blood freezes in your veins. You push yourself up from the bed, heart pounding in your ears. A firm hand wraps around your upper arm, throwing you back into the mattress. The springs squeak from the force. You kick and thrash in Valeria’s hold, desperate to land at least one hit. You refuse to go down without a fight, not after all you’ve been through. You manage to land a single scratch across her cheek. Blood bubbles up from her skin, smearing onto your fingers and her face when you push her away. 

One of her hands pins both your wrists to your sternum as she bears down on you. Her knees press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you in place. You take in a gasping breath, lungs struggling to expand under her weight. For the first time, you get a good look at Valeria and what you see terrifies you. There’s a feral glint to her eyes and not a bit of playfulness in her smile. Your heart pounds against your ribcage like a rabbit. 

“You scream and I’ll gut anyone who comes in that door,” Valeria hisses, hand tightening around your wrists as she wraps a zip tie around them. Tears spill from your waterline as composure crumbles. The edge of the tie presses into your skin uncomfortably, but Valeria doesn’t soften at your whining.

“It was a fun chase, sweetheart, but it’s over,” She fishes a small bag from her pants pocket, shaking a small white pill into her palm. Valeria holds it to your lips with one hand, the other pinching your nose shut. You go as long as you can without air, stubbornly clenching your jaw shut until your lungs burn. 

Valeria watches with interest, grinning as the seconds tick by. You barely make it a minute before you’re gasping for air. Valeria doesn’t waste a moment before she’s pushing the pill past your lips and pressing her palm over your mouth before you can spit it out. Her fingers still pinch your nose shut, her grip unyielding against the restrained fists that pound against her chest.

“Swallow, baby,” She goads as black creeps into the edges of your vision. By now, the pill is reduced to bitter white chunks on your tongue, but you make a show of swallowing to satisfy her. The reaction is almost instantaneous, her fingers prodding past your lips as you desperately gulp down oxygen. Her fingers taste like sanitizer and lotion as she inspects your gum line and beneath your tongue. You cringe away from her touch but with the bed beneath you, there’s nowhere to go. 

When she’s confident you swallowed, she gives you a quick pat on the cheek. The corner of her lips twitch up in only a ghost of a grin before she’s hauling you to your feet and bending you over her lap. You huff, balance thrown off kilter by the sudden movement and lack of oxygen. Valeria’s knee digs uncomfortably into your stomach and ribs. A hand wraps around your upper arm, holding you firmly on her lap. 

“You thought I wouldn’t hunt you down?”  She asks, free hand trailing down the curve of your spine. Her chipped and jagged nails drag across your skin, leaving raised lines in their wake. Fingers curl around the waistband on your sweatpants, gripping tight. You kick your legs, gritting out empty threats as she pulls them down. She tugs until the cleft of your ass is exposed to the stale air.

“I’m sorry,” You sob into the comforter, tears wetting the scratchy blanket. You sound like a broken record, the apologies spilling from your mouth only broken up by promises to never do it again.

“I don’t believe you,” Valeria coos, a condescending smile playing at her lips. She splays her hand against your ass cheek, lightly pressing into the soft flesh until it dimples beneath her fingertips. Her grip on your arm has tightened enough to be bruising.

The heat between Valeria’s thighs only heightens at the sight of you draped over her lap. Idly, she considers the merits of a more sadistic punishment. Purpled bite marks across your shoulders would certainly remind you who you belong to. Or maybe nice ‘V’ carved into the soft fat of your ass. Both would crush your little attitude beneath her boot. Ultimately, she decides to stow those thoughts away for now, saving them for when you’re back home with her. It’d be easy to go overboard now, with the adrenaline and anger rushing through her bloodstream. For now, she just wants to make you cry. 

The first hit comes when you least expect it. The impact sends a ripple through the soft flesh of your ass. Valeria groans lowly at the sight. Your hips jump at the sensation, skin going hot beneath Valeria’s palm. The strike has you screeching, thrashing beneath her in a futile attempt at an escape. You clench and unclench your restrained fists.

“Count.” Her brown irises are swallowed by her dilated pupils, trained in the spot where her hand met your cheek. The heat of your skin bleeds into Valeria’s cold palms, goosebumps popping up across your exposed skin. 

“What the fuck?” You squeal, humiliation and fear petering into indignation. It’s not a surprise to Valeria, she’d always known there was a bit of you that needed training. You were impatient, even selfish at times. A wily little thing she enjoyed wrestling into submission. The brattiness was endearing in her own bed, but after the past few weeks, it only stokes her anger. 

“Count,” She repeats, a little louder this time. “Count and maybe I won’t fucking chip you.” The twist of anger in your expression has her raising her hand again, coming down in a perfect arc to hit the same spot again. You shriek into the bedding, fingernails sinking into your clammy palms. Valeria’s arm tightens around you, dragging you even further into her lap. “Not gonna do it?” She brings her hand down three more times, alternating which side she hits to keep you on edge. “You think I’m lying? Tracked you down like a fucking dog, tell me why I shouldn’t treat you like one?” 

“Won’t do it again, Val,” You sob. “Please, I’m sorry!” Hot tears stream down your flushed face, mixing with the drool smeared across your chin and mouth. Your voice cracks with the force of your crying. Valeria grows impossibly wetter, slick dampening the gusset of her panties. 

“Then start counting.” Your fingers claw at the blanket as she strikes you again. There’s no screech or resistance when her palm hits you, just sniffling. The seconds drag by like hours as Valeria waits with bated breath, hungrily watching the tears spill from your eyes. 

“ One .” Valeria releases your chin and you press your cheek to the mattress. She groans at your thin voice, hoarse from all your yelling. Her palm rubs soothing circles over the spot she’d just hit, contrasting the rough treatment just seconds prior. A shudder runs up your body at the sensation, eyes screwed shut. 

“Good girl,” She murmurs, lips curling into a predatory grin. The next hit has you tensing up beneath her, stammering out a low two . There’s still some resentment buried beneath your submission. It shows in the impudent curl of your lips, the angry furrow of your brow. The quiet whimper that slips your mouth before three is delicious. It appeases Valeria’s growing appetite.  

By ten , you’ve run out of tears. The quiet groans spilling from your throat have a knot winding in Valeria’s stomach. Your ass is marred with her handprints, raised marks from the trauma. Come time, they’ll darken into bruises, the sting of red-hot flesh fading to an overwhelming ache. And every time you see them, you’ll be reminded of your mistakes. Valeria loosens her grip on you, knowing you won’t even try to run. 

By fifteen , your eyes have glossed over and your thrashing has ceased. The numbers are whispered through gritted teeth between quiet grunts, attitude fully snuffed out by Valeria’s hand. A little pain and you’re her good girl again, all sweet and pliant beneath her. Your inner thighs are dewy with the slick that leaks from you, dribbling down your cunt to your swollen clit. 

There’s no resistance as she hauls you to your feet, hands placed beneath your armpits like you’re a doll. You brace your hands on her shoulder, legs too shaky to keep you upright. Valeria tugs your panties and sweatpants up, brushing the bruised curve of your ass too firmly to be accidental. You shift a little, lurching forward to escape the pain. 

Valeria grabs you by the hips, dragging you into her lap. You let out a little yelp upon resting your ass against her thighs, the sudden weight against the raw skin overwhelming. For a moment, you hover, but Valeria presses you down firmly, ignoring the way you wriggle away. Once the pain subsides, you practically meld into her, head resting in the crook of her neck as you sniffle. Valeria brushes the hair from your face, damp with tears and cold sweat. Your limbs are loose, heavy with warmth that emanates from the pit of your stomach.

“Why’d you run?” She murmurs, dragging her splayed palms up and down your thighs. When you don’t reply, she tugs your head from the crook of her neck, hand cradling the base of your skull. Valeria studies you with her dark eyes, searching for a flicker of resistance in your lachrymose gaze. She finds nothing. “Hm? What was it?” 

“I was scared,” The words slip out before you can consider them. It’s an admission only made more pathetic by your thin voice. Something in Valeria’s gaze shifts as her lips press into a line. Her hand tightens on the back of your neck. The weeks of false composure fracture when faced with her dilated pupils, only a thin rind of warm brown surrounding them. The fear hits you like a cold wave, washing over your body as the words are spilling from your chest. 

“I-I didn’t know if it was safe for me to stay,” You stammer out, clenching your hands into fists in an attempt to ward off the tremors overtaking you. “I was worried that maybe they’d come for me next and you wouldn’t be there, Valeria, and I-” The corners of her lips tug up into a smug, satisfied grin and your words are cut short with a stifled sob. 

It’s not a lie, but not quite the truth either. Valeria can see it in the split second of hesitation before you speak. There’s fear there, but not fear of her enemies. No, she saw that terror in your wide-eyed gaze when you realized she had been the one to find you. 

“Oh, mi vida ,” Valeria coos, a hand coming up to cradle your cheek. Her thumb brushes away the few tears rolling down your face. Her other hand brushes up and down your side, dipping beneath the fabric of your shirt. “You thought you’d be safer running?” You sniffle as she squeezes at the fat of your hip. “This,” She gestures to the room around you with a sardonic chuckle. “This is worse than if you stayed put. I can’t protect you when I don’t know where you are.”

“I’m sorry.” You say for the millionth time. It’s the only response your brain can formulate. She’s right, running only left you more vulnerable to people who would use you to reach Valeria. But she doesn’t take your fear of her into consideration, even with the marks spread across your ass cheeks. 

“I believe you,” She says, “But it’ll take more than an apology to make me trust you. You understand, right?” 

You nod, eyes cast downward in shame.

“Good girl,” She tugs at your lower lip with her thumb. “Missed you s’much, you know?” She purrs, pressing two fingers past your lips. Your jaw widens to accommodate the push of her finger against your tongue. “Was so excited to see my girl. Bet you can imagine how I took the news, hm?” Drool gathers behind your teeth, dripping down your chin as Valeria ‘accidentally’ bumps your gag reflex. You lurch, but her fingers remain firmly hooked in her mouth. You don’t have the energy to resist her, any coherent thought slipping from your grasp before you can make sense of it. 

“So pretty like this,” She muses. Valeria adjusts you like a doll, one hand grabbing and moving your limbs until you're straddling her thigh. “You know who owns this cunt, don’t you?” Her other hand grips your hip, rolling it against her muscled thigh. Valeria laughs at your garbled moan as pleasure sparks in your core. “Just my stupid little pet that doesn’t know what’s good for her.” 

“M’not,” You slur, fingers curling into the collar of her shirt. She continues the slow pace, occasionally bouncing her knee to relish in your yelps. The heat in your stomach only grows. Electricity shoots up your spine when Valeria perfects the angle, pressing the seam of your pants against your clit just right. You moan around her fingers, lips and chin shiny with spit. In the weeks you spent running, pleasure had been an afterthought. You never had the time or privacy to worry about getting yourself off. The neglect left you swollen, sensitive, and all too receptive to Valeria’s touch. 

“Really?” She coos, slowly pulling her fingers from your mouth. They come to rest on your other hip, fingers dampening the fabric beneath them. “Grinding your cunt on me like a dumb mutt, aren’t you?” With a firmer grip on you, she presses your cunt even harder on her thigh, rocking you back and forth. You mindlessly follow her movements, chasing your high. 

Valeria studies the pinch of your brow and pitch of moans, watching every minute expression that crosses your face. Your thighs tighten around her own, desperately humping at her. Quiet pants escape your swollen lips, your head hangs low, and your eyes shut. The languid pace is entirely your own, she’s barely moving you along.

When your moans take a higher pitch, fingers tugging at her shirt, she knows you're close. Valeria’s hand comes to pull at your hair, tugging your head back and exposing the bare column of your throat. Her jaw clenches upon noticing your collar’s absence. She meets your wide eyes, your scleras flushed red and pupils dilated. Your pace falters, but Valeria prompts you to keep going with a bounce of her leg. 

“Please,” You whimper. “Wanna come.” The desperation in your voice is palpable. It’s pathetic enough to have Valeria pitying you. It’s hard for you to keep your grip on her shirt, your muscles seem to have a mind of their own. Your restrained hands fall to your lap, numb and warm as you continue to grind. 

“Yeah?” She taunts. “You wanna cum on my thigh?” Her fingers dance up your shirt, calluses brushing over your fluttering abdomen as she makes her way to your breasts. You part your lips when her fingers toy with your hardened nipples, plucking and twisting the sensitive buds. 

“Mhmm,” You nod, eyes fluttering shut. Your tongue is too heavy to form a proper response. By now, your head has gone cottony and light, filled with nothing but Val. It’s hard to even remember how you got into this situation or even recognize the dull ache of your bruised ass on every grind. Her body heat is suffocating, the scent of her perfume leaving you drooling. Valeria can see the distant look in your eyes, so she lets your lack of verbal response slide. She dips her head to your shoulder, pressing wet kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Please,” You manage to wail, repeating the word until your voice gives out on you. Valeria’s teeth glint in the moonlight as you come, nipping at the thin skin above your pulse point. Your wetness soaks the crotch of your panties, leaving them wet and sticky along the curve of your folds. The heat bleeds through your pants, warming Valeria’s thigh. 

When your hips stop twitching and your breath slows, you slump into Valeria. The hand beneath your shirt traverses up and down your spine as you hiccup and cry. Shame curdles in your stomach, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. Valeria presses soft kisses to your cheek, slowly making her way to your chapped lips. 

The kiss is sloppy and almost entirely one-sided. You struggle to keep up with her, clumsily tilting your head the wrong way and hardly moving your tongue. Her teeth knock against yours. When you cringe away at the sensation, she follows you, biting down on your lower lip hard enough to break skin. Hands wrap around your upper arms hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer to her. She licks along the sharp edges of your teeth, presses her tongue against yours. You squirm and whine through it all, only settling when she pulls away, a string of blood-tinged saliva connecting you. 

Satisfaction blooms in Valeria’s chest as she meets your teary eyes. You weeks of planning, the effort spent running, all of it was rendered pointless in a matter of minutes. The regret has your chest tightening, wishing you’d fought harder, bared your teeth. It’s too late, you realize as she heaves you to your feet. There’s no chance at escape with the way the room sways, legs weak beneath you. Valeria anchors you to her side just as you're about to fall, pulling you toward the door. Your mind desperately screams to push her away, but you can’t feel your arms anymore. You stumble and trip over the door frame, only held upright by Valeria’s arm around your waist. 

You can’t help but feel like a prisoner approaching the gallows when you see the idling car. Gravel crunches beneath your feet as she drags you forward, ignoring your attempts to dig your heels in. Each step is one step closer back to Las Almas, back to her mansion, to the gilded cage she’ll lock you in. Fear curdles in your stomach, but there’s nothing you can do with Valeria practically pinning you to her side. She pushes you into the car, quickly sliding in next to you and slamming the door shut. The click of the locks cements your fate. Valeria wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close when you try to shuffle away. She barks out orders to the driver. The car shifts gears, quickly leaving the motel and meeting the open road. Valeria murmurs something about going home as your body loosens, her knuckles brushing over your arm. It’s only a matter of minutes before you’re sprawled across the seat, head resting in her lap. The promise of deep, dreamless sleep is irresistable. 

Valeria idly brushes the hair from your face, humming a quiet tune just loud enough for you to hear. For a while, she watches you fight to stay awake, eyes fluttering shut adorably each time you do. She smiles when you finally slip away, that pinched, fearful expression finally leaving your pretty face. It’s the culmination of weeks of work, countless outbursts, and more than a few deaths. You gave a good chase, she’ll admit, but she won. 

Valeria’s sure once the rohypnol’s effects wane, you’ll be back to your feral self. It won’t be easy to earn your submission, but to her, that’s half the fun. Valeria can already hear the foul threats you’ll grunt out from behind your gag, drool dripping down your chin as you pull against your leash. But that’s trouble for another day, another training session. It’ll take more than one session to fully domesticate you, but Valeria is eager for the work ahead. She’s always enjoyed playing with her food. 

[kolyasangel]

soft skin

content: fem!reader, fluff, vv sweet, slightly suggestive

synopsis: you see your boyfriend shirtless for the first time and of course, he doesn’t miss the opportunity to tease you about it.

"Nikolai! Guess what I just—"

It was like the oxygen had left the room the moment you saw him, your words abruptly cut off by a lack of breath.

Oh.

Oh.

Nikolai's bare back was the first thing your eyes landed on.

The room suddenly felt warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. You barely registered the book in your hand slipping out of your grasp and and landing on the floor with a soft thud as if incapable of handling the sight before you as much as your heart was.

The muscles in his back flex with every movement, drawing your gaze further down to where the fabric of his sweatpants dipped dangerously low on his waist. You swallow hard, trying to regain your composure before he eventually turns around and catches you in the act of staring.

But it's so difficult to abide by when the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window pours over him in an angelic glow, highlighting the curve of his spine as he turns to face you with a questioning look in his eyes and a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Hm?"

Nikolai clearly didn't expect the sudden intrusion, but he wasn't complaining about it either. In fact, he loves that you happened to walk into the room at such perfect timing.

You have to wonder if he's doing it on purpose—all to see your reaction, just to see the flustered look on your face that you know he takes so much pleasure in. You try to form words, but all that comes out is a soft gasp, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts when you watch beads of water drip from his loose hair onto his bare chest, rolling down his skin until they reach his v-line.

You don’t even realize you're staring as hard as you are until Nikolai clears his throat, jerking his head at you in a teasing gesture. Caught off guard, you quickly avert your gaze and try to compose yourself, but the flirtatious glint in Nikolai's eyes tells you he enjoys the attention far too much to let it slide, as expected.

“You’re staring real hard, pretty,” he drawls with a lazy grin, mismatched eyes filled with mischief roaming over your figure.

"Sorry," you apologize and try to leave the room as quickly as you could to avoid any impending teasy remarks, but you suppose you were too slow for him because you already found yourself entrapped by a pair of strong arms.

"You're not going anywhere just yet," Nikolai murmurs, his breath warm against your ear as he pulls you closer. Yeah, you're not sure what demon possessed you for a second to make you believe he would let you get away from him so easily—you would end up like this either way, whether you stayed in the room or not. "What did you want to ask me, sweet dove?" he asks as his arms snake themselves under your arms and around your waist.

The closeness sends a shudder to channel through your entire body. "Nothing important anymore," you hum and close your eyes, secretly relishing in the contact.

He laughs and ruffles your hair before placing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Oh come on," he insists, fingers deftly moving some of your hair aside as if parting curtains to let in sunlight, keen to get a better look at your flustered face. "Tell me?"

With a hint of reluctance, your shy eyes open to finally meet his. "I finished the book I was reading.. you know, the one I told you about."

His eyes light up with an excitement that makes your heart flutter. "That means you have to tell me all about it now!" he pries eagerly, genuinely interested in hearing your opinion.

"I can't," you mumble, the words tinged with timidity.

His lips stick out into an exaggerated pout, feigning hurt, resembling a kicked puppy. "Why?" he asks with a dramatic flair.

You feel embarrassed to be in this position, your back flush against his chest as his arms squeeze your frame like you're his personal stuffed animal. He dips his head, leaning in to get closer to your face. "Too distracted?" he asks, his voice low and sultry, rich like velvet.

"Something like that," you admit, nodding shamefully while feeling the heat on your cheeks deepening as his lips graze over the shell of your ear. "Maybe a little."

"Look at me," he tells you, fingers grabbing hold of your chin gently to tilt your face upwards to make you look up at him. His voice is sweet but also firm, one full of power. "I want you to focus on me," he says, his eyes locking with yours. "I want to be the only thing on your mind right now."

His eyes are so intense and love-filled, making it nearly impossible to part gazes. Out of all things, this wasn't something that you ever expected from him when you two started dating, though you suppose you're not exactly sure what you ever expected.

However, there is one thing that you are sure of and expect nothing less of from him—him and his new ways that, without fail, always keep you on your toes.

"You don't have to be so shy," he giggles before spinning you around to face him this time, drawing you impossibly closer. All you experience is Nikolai—every sense overwhelmed and full of only him. He'd just hopped out of the shower, so his skin is still slightly damp, and the freshly applied lotion on his skin smells so good. A combination of the fragrance entwining with his natural scent fills your head with delightful dizziness, your cheeks warming up from both the contact and how you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

Your eyes are fluttering shut again yet they aren't quite closed, lashes barely brushing the tops of your cheeks. As you inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself while reveling in this closeness, Nikolai chuckles softly as his arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace, practically smothering your face with his chest.

"You're allowed to look at me, you know," he whispers, his breath tickling your ear. "Look at me, touch me." He tenderly takes one of your hands in his, kissing your palm ever so softly before placing it on the upper portion of his chest, slowly moving it downwards, almost guiding you in a way where he wants to feel your touch, an invitation of sorts. "Do whatever you want to me."

The sheer vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart, making you realize just how much he trusts you—a trust that deepens with every touch and melding of skins. It's overwhelming yet euphoric, the feeling of intimacy that grows and further solidifies your bond as you trace every inch of his body with your fingertips. His skin is incredibly soft as you run your fingers over his body, smoothness occasionally interrupted by the roughness of his scars that you'd only ever felt under the fabric of his clothing—but you adore all of him, even the rough parts. You run your knuckles along his sides, eliciting goosebumps to rise on his skin, warmth radiating from him to you like a gentle current.

His other hand travels from your waist to cradle your cheek, packed with all the care in the world that it almost makes your heart skip a steady beat. "Are you charmed by me yet?"

"You don't even have to try.." you huff out in embarrassment. A bead of water drips from his damp bangs onto your nose, causing a small shiver to course through you from the chill. "Aren't you cold?" you ask him, voice becoming whispery as you melt into his embrace.

His arms tighten around you, a small smile tugging on his lips at your question. "How can I be cold when you're right here?" he replies with nonchalance as if the answer couldn't be more obvious, using his thumb to wipe the water off your nose, replacing it with a gentle kiss to seal the moment altogether.

hihi thank u for reading. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

[bokureii]

Zhen the Mienfoo

She's gonna appear in Chapter 3 in my PMD comic, aka in like 2 years when Chapter 3 is finally out, so you won't see her for a while, but I enjoyed drawing her!

Feel free to watch the stream where I drew her from scratch to fully shaded: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_T_e5jzo-ok (and use playback speed too)

[yourstrulybluelover]

Title: Heat 2

Pairings: Na’vi Reader (23) x Neteyam (24)

Warnings ⚠️: MDNI

Contains: oral, p in v, rough sex,

Word Count: 1953

You find yourself drenched in sweat, letting out groans of discomfort, with your back pressed firmly against the tree trunk as you pull your knees towards your chest. Leaning heavily against the tree, you bury your head in your knees, familiar waves of heat washing over you once more.

This time, you're isolated, the distant bickering of the two brothers echoing in the background. A pang of guilt strikes you; you were meant to be hunting, not the subject of their disagreement. You despise being in a vulnerable position, the center of attention, especially when it renders you unable to take control of the situation.

“Bro, we can’t just leave her here while we get help.” Lo’ak muttered under his breath, peering behind his brother to catch a glimpse of you.

"We both run the risk of being captivated by her pheromones," Neteyam mutters angrily, the echoes of your moans engraved into his mind.

“Boys-“ a sudden static like sound erupted from the comms.

“Dad! Where are you?!” Neteyam blurted out turning away from Lo’ak. “It is Y/N is uh- she’s not looking so good, we gotta get her home or well away.”

“What’s wrong?” Jake’s voice could be heard but broken, interrupted by the static.

“She’s in heat.” Lo’ak said, pressing two fingers to his throat, still peering at you. This time you’re bent over in pain. Drenched in sweat everything clung to your skin. Your body was getting hotter, almost feverish, when your eyes met his, looking at him longliy to take this pain away.

He quickly averted his eyes to Neteyam.

“Dad, you gotta hurry.” Neteyam expressed.

“Don’t do anything stupid! Lo’ak start a fire, I’ll search for the smoke from the canopy tops.”

Neteyam glared at his brother.

“Fine, I’ll go make the fire Neteyam, but you need to check on her, you can’t just leave her there.”

“Fine.”

“Brother she’s missing.” Said a slightly panicked Lo’ak.

“What do you mean missing? You lost her?”

She’s not there but we can track her.

“How?!”

We can smell her.

You navigate through the forest, seeking the nearby stream you had previously marked. Your sole purpose: finding something to alleviate the heat that threatens to induce hallucinations. The gentle murmur of running water grows louder as you draw nearer. Eventually, you reach the stream's end, where it widens into a shallow creek, ideal for a refreshing soak at knee height. Stripping off your garments, you brush bits of leaves from your scorched skin. Finally alone, you take the opportunity to relieve yourself before embarking on your return journey. Although you should have informed them, you realize you're only minutes away from where they are. Now unclothed, you step into the creek.

The frigid water now soothing your azure skin, you rest on the creek bed, leaning against its edge with your knees drawn close to your chest. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as the cold water brushes against your nipples, riling you up once more.

Without hesitation, you sprawl yourself to reach to touch your sweet spot. A moan escapes your lips, while you lean your head back onto the mossy green grass, you hair sticking to bits of your cheeks, and shoulders. You’re a flushed mess, with your hands now rubbing and thrusting yourself, while the other tugs and pull at your nipples, you moans grown louder as you’re desperate to make yourself cum. Your movements quicken as you aggressively thrust into yourself, bucking your hips above water when your eyes suddenly shoot open at the snap of a twig.

You stop as you realize you’re being watched. The brothers had found you, their green eyes glowing among the foliage of the forest. It didn’t them long to find you, your scent was overpowering and pungent, but your vulnerable state was so captivating they couldn’t look away.

Upon realization, your mind wanted to hide away in embarrassment but your body refused to stop. You continued to pleasure yourself, now one hand on your clit and the other in your sopping hole. They gawked as you laid there in the creek sprawled, Lo’ak looked down to see himself growing under his loincloth, he growled under his breath, jaw clenched. He wanted to have you so badly.

“I need to help her.” He said huskily.

"No, we found her. Go light the fire," Neteyam commanded his brother, who stubbornly refused to move. "Now!" he insisted.

Lo'ak huffed in annoyance before finally turning away.You continued to moan in pleasure as you feel yourself coming. Throwing you head back exposing your neck. Neteyam couldn’t help but trail your body with his eyes.

A fleeting sense of calm washed over you, but you could sense it wouldn't last long. The respite just didn't feel the same when it was Lo'ak who brought you to climax. As you glanced up, you noticed Neteyam standing among the shrubs, closer to the creek, silently observing you, attentively listening to every sound. “Nete, please, I need you.”

He scoffed. "You want to try the other brother now? Lo'ak wasn't good enough?" Taken aback by his cold response, you stood up angrily, water dripping from your naked body.

“Is that what you think of me now?” you huffed, “fine act righteous then, like you weren’t thinking of fucking me moments ago.”

Within moments, Neteyam growled, storming towards you as you rose from the shallow creek, challenging him with your defiance, in your naked glory.

Neteyam snatched you by your neck, hissing exposing his fangs. You smirked. You knew his reaction was not out of disappointment but more of jealously. You looked down to see his boner, causing your smirk to grow.

“Looks like you still wanna fuck me,” He releases you from his hold when he realizes you can readhim.

That's when your scent intensifies once more. His eyes grow darker, and hooded, now scanning your care body, you observe him in his current state. He was always calm and collected, hardly showing emotion, but today, right now, you felt so proud to be the source of his riled up behaviour.

“Nete-”

Before you can finish his name he turns towards you crashing his lips onto yours. Taken aback slightly you stumble back into the water. His hands roam you touching every crevice and curve of your body, you instantly kiss him back. Feeling the heat returning once more. His lips leave yours to now abuse your neck, moving lower to your breasts and soon he is kneeling in front of kissing your navel and trailing his nose down to your bud.

You stop. Your eyes meet. You’ve never seen him so hungry before. Still kneeling in the shall creek while you stand before him he tosses your leg over his shoulder, grabbing your ass to stabilize you while your other leg remained sanding on the creek, he tugged at your folds with his tongue.

You gasp as the sudden touch, your body going numb as all the blood rushes to your clit. He starts off gentle but soon is aggressively sucking and lapping at your cunt. You moan, as you grab a fist full of his braids, pressing him further into you as he devours you.

The knot in your stomach grows and he now hums satisfactorily as if he could sense that you’re near. He suddenly stops, looking up to you, and your eyes meet. You gasp as he now plunges his thick fingers into you, curling upwards to send you over your edge. Within seconds your juices are spraying as you scream his name, al while he just watches you. Loving the control he has over your vulnerable state.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’m not done with you.”

In one swift motion Neteyam pulls you on top of him. Straddling him, you can feel his thick member pressing against your bare cunt shielded by his loincloth. You’re bodies slightly submerged by the shallow creek, he states as you intensely before he bucks his hips up. You wince as the friction slowly starts to rile you up, your clit, begging for more.

Another buck, you breath hitches, your mouth forming a small O as you begin to redden from embarrassment. Aware of this, he leans back, bracing his back to the edge of the creek moving his arms to cradle the back of his while he takes you in. His breathing is definitely faster, and his eyes are darker but he is determined to show you he is in control regardless of how enticing you smell.

His self control is rather humbling as you catch on of his game of cat and mouse. Yes, you both are biologically compelled towards each other but he is determined to make you beg. He moves harshly again, and then shift once more, each movement making your core grow hotter.

He huffs at your state “looks like you want me to fuck you y/n” he smirks.

You snapped. You needed to get off again and you need to get off now. You hover over him sightly ripping his lion cloth off. A flash of shock surfaces on his face. His bulging member springs up as you take it and grasping it firmly at the base. Your sudden roughness makes him groan at your touch. As you pump his member you lean in for a kiss to which Neteyam does nothing. Keeping his movements still he watches you as you lean towards him. Your lips slightly pressed against his and he is overtaken b the tension. Like an animal snapping back into a trance, Neteyam passionately presses his lips onto yours. You moan into the kiss as you pump his cock. He grabs you firmly by the waist causing you to grip onto his shoulders for stability. Breaking the kiss he lifts you over his throbbing veiny cock before he mercilessly plunges his full length into you. It sends shockwaves through your body as he stretches you. He hoists you up once more to only slam you back down onto him. Your eyes roll back as he repeats the motion you legs soon begin to tremble.

“How does it make you feel y/n?” he whispers huskily now, pressed up against you his fangs grazing on your collar bone. You moans growing louder.

“Goood.” You hum.

“Do I fuck you better?”

You say nothing, you continue to hum, you can hear the squelches that come from bot of you. He does feel bigger than his brother, much more girthier, he also seems a bit more experienced, which was rather shocking, giving that Lo’ak was known for his philandering ways.

He stops suddenly. And now you’re mindlessly bouncing trying to fuck yourself, but he grips onto your hips firmly. Stopping you from moving. You refuse to stop movement as you circle your hips, whining on his member. He gasps, you can tell he is also near.

“Neteyam pleasssee.” You beg.

“Not until you answer me.” His hand now griping onto your face, causing you both to lock eyes.

Desperate for more you breathed out a heavy yes.

“I didn’t hear that y/n”

“YEEESSSS! You fuck me bettteeerr!” you screamed grinding into him.

“He loosens his grip, now digging his hands into the sandy creek, he fucks you form under, pounding into you mercilessly. You throw you head back, making your back arch, and your perky breast bounce. Within seconds your cumming, and soon after he follows, your juices mixing together as he groans in pleasure .

“AHEM, so much for not doing anything stupid.” Lo’ak remarked.

You look up to see the other Na’vi standing among the foliage. “Dad is on his way.” His jaw clenched but voice remained indifferent. You both spring off of each other attempting to clothed yourselves. An all too familiar feeling for you. You sighed wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Soooo I took a while to get this done annndd iduno I backtracked on the two boys but I’ll definitely do a part 3 with both of them. Sorry if I disappointed anyone. 🙈❤️💃🏽

@shadowmoonlight0604 @mashiromochi @luvteyams @erenjaegerwife

[maxfwd]

Hi everyone, thank you for the warm welcome :) I'm just an old Zelda fan and entertainment industry storyboard artist, looking to try something new: Zelda Fanart, and skillsharing demos directed at up-in-coming artists.

For those interested, Here's a timelapse-gif of my coloring approach for Young Link v Ghini: Rough thumnbnail sketch to make sure reads well at a distance, and then inks and color flats, and then i drop the output levels to darken it within an inch of its life. Then I start adding color and lighting, starting with the dimmest light sources, then building up to the dominant and then bounced light. Then materiality effects, then particles and atmospherics, then finishing details, and then finally some fine tuning in photoshop to get the exposure looking nice.

I'm really excited by all the amazing Zelda art and fiction i'm seeing on Tumblr, its like the zelda promised land here, haha

I'm continuing to work on pieces but the holidays will have me super busy with family stuff and work obligations, so my next post might be a while. I stream-draw these on twitch (@maxfwd) usually super early or late at night so that might be best place to check in until then.

Thanks and let me know if you have any questions!

-max

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Making Love Out of Nothing At All - Nick Bradshaw x Reader

A/N: I've been sitting on this for a month since I left San Diego and now I'm finally doing it. We're calling this an AU fic where Carole's just non-existent and everyone lives happily ever after.

pairing: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: p in v sex (unprotected/no mention of protection - he's a silly goose, ok?), fingering, oral (f receiving), public sex, car sex, goose goes down on you like it's an olympic sport, praise kink, body worship/compliments but no mention of specific appearance really?

word count: 1.3k

minors dni below the cut!

Every time I see you all the rays of the sun are all streaming through the waves in your hair, and every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes like a spotlight.

The dim street lamps illuminated the parking lot of the club in a dusky glow, the cool Pacific breeze licking at your bare legs as you hurried behind your boyfriend to his car, a 1983 Ford Mustang that he’d been saving up for since graduating from the Naval Academy last summer. He had whisked you out of the club so quickly that you were almost certain you spilled the contents of your drink on his best friend, Pete in your hurry out the door, rather than simply handing him the glass as you’d intended. 

Nick turned to face you, his infamous smirk spread across his lips as he placed a hand firmly on your waist, drawing you in closer to him. He leaned his back against his car, easily towering over the convertible’s frame as he stood. At an impressive 6’4, Nick’s body engulfed yours as he pulled you in, ducking his head down to leave hungry kisses in a trail from your jaw to your neck, his hands feverishly roaming over the outside of your dress, finding anyway he could to gain access to what was underneath. 

“Mhmm,” you giggled, shaking your head, “Slow down, baby. You can’t just do it in the middle of a parking lot,” you protested.

“Says who? I don’t see anyone around? Besides, that’s what the car’s for, honey.”

Nick opened the door for you before playfully pushing you on to your back across the backseat. He placed his palms flat against the seat as he hovered himself over you, his lips once again making contact with your skin. A series of hot, open-mouthed kisses peppered your neck and collarbone as his hands palmed at your breasts, grasping them over the fabric of your dress. He grinned as he hummed against your skin, taking delight in the way you squirmed and giggled with every kiss.

“You smell like heaven, you know that? Whatever this new perfume you’re wearing is, I love it.”

“Coco by Chanel,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as your hand guided his face to look at you. 

Leaning up, your lips met his in a tender, yet playful kiss, grinning against his lips as his hands continued to explore your body. His long, slender fingers ran along your leg, brushing against you in a way that made your skin feel like it was on fire, burning with passion at his touch. You took in a sharp breath as he hiked the skirt of your dress up your thighs, the fabric pooling at your waist. His hand slid in between your bodies, brushing his fingertips against the soft, delicate lace of your underwear, that was quickly becoming dampened with arousal.

“Someone’s already worked up, isn’t she?” He said as he flashed you a wicked grin, chuckling to himself at how wet he’d made you without really putting in any effort.

“Shush,” you protested, shaking your head, “I could say the same thing about you.”

Nick grinned as he pulled himself up to his knees, spreading your legs slightly to make room as he hooked a finger into the waistband of your underwear, lazily dragging them down off your leg. He tossed them aside, discarding them somewhere in the front seat before quickly leaning his head down, his tongue flattening as he licked a long, slow strip against your sex, a groan of pleasure catching in his throat as he tasted your arousal. You panted his name, a sigh of ecstasy escaping your lips as his tongue slowly began working at your clit, concentrating on soft, yet precise movements as he encircled the sensitive bud. 

“Tastes so fucking good, honey,” he husked as he lifted his head up slightly, his dark brown eyes looking up at you with a lustful stare as he delved two fingers into your dripping wet heat, curling them slightly to hit your spot. 

“Nick, fuck,” you hissed, your back arching as he effortlessly pumped his fingers into your spot, his tongue lapping at your arousal, “Getting so close.” 

“I know baby, I know, let it go for me,” he encouraged before dipping his mouth back down between your folds, sucking on your clit harshly before running his tongue over it again.

You whimpered as your thighs began to shudder and shake in pleasure, your back arching further as Nick drew you closer to your orgasm. You began moaning out his name over and over, saying it as if it was a spoken prayer as he dragged your orgasm out, his tongue lapping at you, cleaning up the arousal that dripped and threatened to stain the seats beneath you. He grinned up at you as he pulled the neckline of the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath his brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt up to wipe your juices from his mouth. 

“Have I told ya how pretty you look?” He hummed, his fingers tracing circles on your abdomen, admiring you as if he saw you as a work of art.

“No, but I like hearing it.”

“So fucking pretty, honey. Just look at you,” he gestured to you with one hand while the other palmed at his tightening jeans, the denim fabric becoming more and more restricted with his touch, “I’m not done with ya yet though, honey.”

He grunted as he got out of the car, taking you by the hand and marching you around to the hood of the car. After a quick glance around to ensure no one would be able to see, he gently guided his hand across the small of your back, spinning you around before pushing you down over the hood of the car. He shimmied his jeans down off his waist, just enough to free his cock from the strain of his boxers. 

He stroked himself a couple of times for good measure before flicking the fabric of your dress up off of you, lining himself up with your entrance, he pistoned himself into you, causing you to lay your palms flat against the cold, grey metal of the car. He paused to let you adjust before drawing his hips back and thrusting forward again, causing you to choke out a gasp as you felt your walls stretching to allow him to fit. 

“Nick, shit,” you panted, balling your hands into fists as you tried to keep your emotions and feelings in check as he fucked into you. 

“That’s it sweet girl, takin’ me s’good,” he purred, his hips continuing to crash into yours, hands guiding your ass to make contact with his hips with each movement. 

“Fucking, Jesus Christ, baby, I’m so close, right fucking there,” you sputtered, your thoughts becoming cloudy and incoherent with each passing second.

Nick’s controlled movements began to grow sloppier as he drew closer to his orgasm, unable to focus his precision any longer, his rhythmic thrusts devolving into clumsier, yet just as hard, movements. He moaned your name loudly, the syllables ringing out like some sort of sweet melodic praise as your walls clenched around him. You rode your orgasms out together, harmoniously as you both fell apart. His large hands caressed your body, pulling you gently to stand up and lean your body against his. He held you close for a moment, kissing at the nape of your neck breathlessly, his skin hot to the touch and slicked with sweat. 

A laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head, almost in disbelief as he looked at you. 

“God, you’re incredible, you know that? Absolutely fucking incredible,” he purred, stroking your hair as he held you close.

[cfr749]

Beneath Your Beautiful: Let Me Love You

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you today,” she confesses, tipping her head back to meet his eyes and settling her hand on his chest in a way that gives life to a warmth radiating through his center. How is he supposed to function when every little thing she does has him feeling like he’s melting on the inside?

“Yeah, I got that from your 332 texts,” he teases gently as he brushes his thumb along her jaw. Lucy’s steady stream of memes and ridiculous ClipToks and random, entirely irrelevant facts about sea turtles had easily been the very best part of his day. Up until now that is.

She bites her lip, little lines forming between her brows, “Was it too much?”

He finds his focus drifting from the conversation as he allows a finger to continue the journey down her neck and along her collar, finally fully processing the feel of her silk robe under his hands, the deep red of her lips, and the picture perfect waves tumbling down over her shoulders.

“Tim,” a tinge of a whine enters her voice as she tries to draw his attention back to her question. But if it’s conversation she’s interested in, she has absolutely chosen the wrong outfit. He leans in for a better look — what exactly is that bit of lacy black fabric peaking out from the deep V-neck of her robe?

Read it now on AO3

[writtenbyshama]

Long Way Home [Part V]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

Read Part 3 here.

Read Part 4 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part V

Two weeks before Star fall, we were all having dinner in one of the open terraces as it was a clear night. Nesta and Elaine weren't present, since they were at their former estate in the human world for some work. 

There was the usual chatter and bickering going on, and I was laughing at something Feyre said when my eyes landed on Azriel.

I didn't understand why it was that moment. Maybe it was because I had finally accepted my feelings for him, or maybe it was destined by fate. Or maybe it was because Elaine wasn't there to draw his gaze. Nevertheless, in that moment, I knew.

"Mate." I said in a low voice. 

The chatter died down, the rest of the table's eyes on us. I noticed a slow, weak pulse within me, a bond that connected me to him. I could see in his eyes that he was aware of it too. 

I didn't know what to think, I never thought that this moment would come to be. 

I was still trying to untangle my thoughts when he abruptly stood up. His expression had gone blank. We all watched as he recalled his shadows towards himself as he strode down to the terrace wall and jumped, flying away. 

There was a long stretch of silence, broken by Amren. "What a fool."

Cassian slapped a hand to his forehead. "Az..."

Well. 

I stood up on shaky legs, my face burning hot. The weak pulse of the bond went even weaker as he flew away from me. I had never thought that we would be mates, and what's more, he would reject me like this. Feyre and Rhys were looking at me with the pity I didn't want. 

"Goodbye, then."

I turned on my heel and ran to my quarters. Grabbing the last of my things, I threw them in my satchel and wore it over my shoulder. When I turned to leave, Rhys was in the doorway. 

"Y/n, please. Stay," he implored. "He's just a little confused, that's all."

"Oh please," I tried to walk out but he blocked the exit.

Taking a deep breath, I looked him in the eye. I had not started crying. Not yet. Not here, not now. "Rhysand, if you've ever once cared about me, please let me go."

He stood there for a moment longer, but moved eventually. I knew how to winnow myself to other places, but it required a focused and calm mind, neither of which I had at that moment. In the end, Rhysand flew me to my house in the city as per my request. 

When I unlocked the door, father wasn't there. I lit a few lamps and took a seat at the kitchen table. I wrote him a letter where I explained everything that had transpired and my intention to go to the villa that very night. I put the letter in an envelope and left it on the table for him to see. 

After it was done, I extinguished the lamps and sat there in the dark, the satchel on my lap. Closing my eyes, I took slow, deep breaths and brought my mind to a state where I could focus on winnowing. Soon enough, the darkness felt changed and I was in the living room of the villa.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

This property wasn't fully developed when it had been passed down to my father. He hadn't taken much notice of it either, but after we both healed from our wing scars, we lived here for many years before he started practising in Velaris. 

In those years, we demolished the ramshackle wooden structure and built a two story villa suffused with maintenance magic. Following that, we developed the surrounding area with lush fruit orchards, vegetable rows and flower bushes. A convenient stream flowed all year round, fed by the glaciers of the tallest mountains. It fed our gardens and flowed into the taps through pipelines. 

I sat on the sofa in the living room for a while, empty and exhausted. The sconces on the walls were lit the moment I appeared, and there was not a speck of dust or cobweb in sight. The night was cold, and the villa's temperature heated up to a comfortable warmth that settled lovingly on my shoulders. 

I smiled, feeling glad to have built this villa. It took better care of me than my own mate. 

Keeping the satchel on the table, I stood up and walked upstairs. In this floor, there were two bedrooms and two bathrooms, built separately for me and father when we stayed here together. Each bedroom had its own large balcony, too. 

Inside my bathroom, I stripped off my clothes and turned on the tap for hot water to fill into the bath. The tub was sunken into the floor, with a window carved into the wall beside it to look into the view outside. After my bath, I crawled underneath the bed covers, where my tears finally began to flow. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 6 here.

Tags:

@kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @impossibelle @sourapplex

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Cam-Girl!Reader: His Personal Assistant - Part 2[*]

A/N: This one’s pretty light for October, but I wanted to have a bit of fun :)

Warnings: masturbation, sex toys, exhibitionism (?)

Word Count: 3,378

-Part 1-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Your lips part, back bowing off the bed as you tip over the edge.

The small red dot flashes, showing the camera’s still recording, and if you squint, you can see the comments rolling in. Complimenting your form, your body, your moans, everything. Occasionally a critique from a guy who probably hasn’t been within three metres of a woman, but… Well, they brought you to fame. Of course there’s going to be the occasional creep.

Your lipstick’s smudged a little from when you slapped your hand over your mouth, and you run your tongue over your teeth before sitting upright, facing the camera. “Well, that’s it for tonight guys,” you pant, your tits pressing together as you lean closer to the recorder.

“As always, exclusive content will be going up on my private channel, so if you want to see a little more of me…” You give a feline grin, as your spine arches, thighs parting a little wider to serve as a reminder of what sort of content they’ll be getting.

How much is it. why isnt it free

Exclusive contant????

Id fuc u so good bby

The usual assortment of comments roll in, and you scan for a final talking point.

You’re working a job?

Bingo.

You give a wide smile, settling back onto your knees so they have a full view of your pretty nipples and the mess decorating your thighs. “I am working a job, yes! Stuffy corporate business—lots of men who could use a little fun, if you know what I mean,” you purr, winking at the camera, shifting to be comfortable without compromising their view.

You should definitely fuck your boss

Lush shout me out!

Where u working at

The smile widens into a grin, “I should fuck my boss? I did ask you guys that, didn’t I?” You laugh, dipping your head before straightening again, feigning a little embarrassment. Human. Draw them in. “He’s a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. Could really use a night out with a woman—or two,” you grin, tongue flicking out to wet your lips.

“Would you guys watch that? If I get him to fuck me?” You ask, already knowing the answers. Sure enough, the enthusiastic encouragements come spilling up the screen in rapid succession to one another. You laugh again, looking away from the camera, “well, I’m not sure if I can promise that, buuuttt…” Eyes return to the camera, looking up through your lashes, lips lifting into a feline grin. “The office I’ve been given doesn’t have any security cameras in, so… I could accidentally slip over one day… You know, happens to the best of us, sometimes,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly. “Maybe I could record a short little video for you guys.”

More questions spill in, asking for details, but now you’ve whet their appetite, it’s time to pull away. “Well, that’s it for tonight, everyone. Tune in next week for the stream, and get on that private channel for some additional content,” you purr, reaching forward to turn off the recorder. “Maybe I’ll do some personalised videos to someone who tips well.”

And it’s off.

You flop back into your bed, the vibrator bouncing besides you, arousal already drying on the rubbery toy. Excitement sizzles in your belly—filming yourself at work.

It could go so wrong…

————

You lean over his desk, the deep V in the neck of your navy dress showing off just a little too much cleavage as you set the mug of coffee down.

To your utter irritation, he hadn’t shown any appreciation for the last one. Made by a professional! Now, you’ve taken to stopping in at different cafes, just to see if one of them can get it right. So far: nothing. Every single one has been sub-par, and it’s getting on your nerves.

It’s been nearly a full week since your first day, and you’re still no closer to cracking him. He’s almost always submerged in some sort of Matter, dealing with organising files on his computer, or stamping out email after email. Really, you don’t understand how he doesn’t bore himself to tears every day.

The only highlight has been Gabrielle who seems to be the only spark of life to exist on this miserable floor.

You’ve been on the lower ones, too, and it really is just this floor that seems to be completely devoid of any kind of life. Nobody’s talking by the water cooler, no hushed gossiping girls by the photocopier, and not even a single person waiting in the waiting room. It’s ridiculous. The only way you’re saved from insanity is the brief interactions you have with Gabe, and those are still too infrequent for you to consider yourself safe from the madness.

You sigh internally, moving onto the next stack of papers he’d made that need photocopying, swinging your hips subtly as you depart from the office. Not even the slight prickle of hairs rising at the nape of your neck to signal a sneaky peep.

Stick-in-the-mud.

Putting your bad luck aside, you begin formulating a rough outline for when you’ll have the chance to record that sweet, little video you kind of promised. Well. Technically you didn’t promise, so it’s not owed or anything, but…

It’s exciting!

Rhys had specifically told you not to—so you have to. That’s just how these things work, and he’s a fool if he doesn’t understand that appeal.

Either way, you’re looking forward to it. Fuck him if he thinks he’s going to spoil your fun.

————

You slide your phone back into your bag, hastily wiping down the chair and opening the windows. You don’t want the cleaners getting any ideas, nor do you feel it would really fair to subject them to that sort of mess.

A quick sanitisation and few short spritzes of perfume later, and the room seems pretty normal. The small remote is still on the desk, vibrator deep inside your warm, wet cunt. You should probably take it out, but… It’s fun, and you could use a little excitement. Especially working long, boring hours like you currently are.

The door to your office swings open, and you spin on your heel, taking a startled step back, nearly toppling onto the desk as you do so. Your widened eyes flit to the source of the noise, just as Azriel steps over the threshold. He halts, pausing as if he hadn’t been expecting you.

With a hand over your heart, you lean fully against the desk, legs still a little weak from the orgasm. “What are you doing in here?” You ask, too rushed and too breathless to be acceptable. You clear your throat, straightening your dress—hoping you don’t smell of sweat.

Sharp hazel eyes run over your form, and it’s the most he’s looked at you since you arrived here. You’re unaccustomed to being at the centre of his attention, and all of a sudden you find yourself flushing under his scrutinising gaze.

His brow narrows, closing the door behind him, holding up the papers in his hand. “I was going to put these on your desk,” he says, moving silently across the room, aiming for where you’re leaning. “For tomorrow,” he explains.

You stiffen, then dart away—he’ll be able to smell sex on you if he gets too close, so you shift to be the opposite side of the furniture. “I was wondering which demon was sneaking those in,” you joke, bringing your gaze to meet his. It’s so piercing and intent, it’s difficult to maintain. Suddenly struggling to function under his attention. “Looks like it was you,” you smile.

Azriel’s eyes stab into you, raking beneath your skin, and you fight the urge to fidget. Instead you straighten your back, spine curving enough to push your chest out—just a little.

Your attention flicks over his shoulder to the door, which you know you locked. “Say, how did you get in here? I know I locked it so I wouldn’t be disturbed,” you ask, peering at him from across the desk. You’re now leaning the majority of your weight on the spinning chair, legs trembling slightly.

He’s quiet for a moment, and you wonder for a dreadful second if he somehow knows. You dismiss the thought quickly. There’s no way he does. You sprayed that perfume, and it’s pretty strong. He can’t have figured it out, there’s not enough evidence to even suggest you’d been doing anything other than flicking through emails and moving files about to the correct Matter.

He pulls something from his pocket, holing it up the metal ring. “Skeleton key,” he answers, simply. You nearly blanch at the information—he could have walked in at any moment. A flicker of arousal licks between your thighs as you imagine him walking in on you like that. How would he react?

He’d probably be pissed off for potentially getting some files dirty. Typical stick-in-the-mud behaviour.

You shift on your feet uncomfortably, “so, you have access to any room in this building?”

“That is how a skeleton key works, yes.” You blink at his tone. Narrow your eyes. The dry tone…the slight tug on his lips, as if suppressing a… “Oh my god you made a— You have humour.”

You stare at him, slightly mortified the thought slipped out, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Simply raises a brow, “I’m loosely acquainted with the concept.” You stare longer, unsure how to react, lips nervously twitching up at the edges. You nod, slowly, blinking—dumbfounded.

His lips curve almost imperceptibly, and you stiffen, for once unsure what to do, how to react. He seems to have difficulty suppressing his smile as he takes in your reaction, “I had no idea humour would have such a profound effect on you.”

You snap back to reality, tightening your grip on the chair. “No, it’s not that,” you explain hurriedly. He raises a brow, lips still slightly quirked in a way that only magnifies his beauty. Classically complimenting his features.

He’s waiting for your explanation.

You flush, realising you don’t have one.

“I just…didn’t expect it, is all,” you try, concealing your wince. But the slight lift of his mouth doesn’t fade, and you realise you should be using the time to make a move on him. Drop a couple of hints. Maybe he’ll be different outside of working hours.

Azriel opens his mouth to respond, and you prepare yourself for whatever quip he’s going to surprise you with, but instead his eyes flick down to your desk. More specifically, the small remote that’s connected to the device inside of you.

Your heart actually stops in your chest for a moment, time slowing as his brow narrows, and—picks it up.

For the few seconds he examines it, you’re paralysed, holding your breath and praying for the love of god he doesn’t recognise it.

“What is this?” He asks, and you have to control the sigh of relief that wants to whoosh from your lungs. You’re saved. “I have no idea,” you lie, unable help the smile that’s graced your lips.

His brow narrows, eyes flicking to yours as he holds the remote in his large hand, making it look tiny. “It’s not yours?” He asks, and you mentally kick yourself for the mistake. You should have said it was some kind of charger!

But you’re stuck now, so you nod stiffly, feigning ignorance.

His brow narrows further, flipping the device over in his hand, making you tense. If he presses one of those buttons… You don’t allow yourself to consider that path. No way.

“Are they for the lights?” He asks, peering closer at the small buttons. Seven in total, all different types of vibration. Labelled with their number, nothing else. You shrug, stepping out from behind your chair, moving to walk over to him, “no idea. I’ll drop it off at reception or something and see if they—”

He presses the the third button.

You stumble but catch yourself, thankful for the whisper-quiet motor. He won’t be able to hear anything, thank god.

Teeth dig into your lip as you halt, fingers pressing onto the hard wood of the desk, a shaky breath exhaling from your lips. Your mind scrambles for an excuse to take it from him, but you come up empty. All you can think about is the high-speed buzzing, how good it feels against your sensitive walls.

“Azriel…” you manage, unsurely, becoming temporarily breathless when those hazel eyes slice into, carving your exterior clean off. “I’m not sure it’s wise to press those if we don’t know what they do,” you argue, fairly soundly considering the situation.

He weighs your point, peering at the remote again. “Maybe if it’s on a different setting we’ll see what it is,” he says instead, and you have no time to prepare as he presses the fourth button. Your thighs tremble, nails digging into your palm.

“I’m really not sure—”

Fifth button.

You stumble backward, knees hitting your chair as you collapse down. The fall pushing the toy deeper inside of you, brushing against that wonderfully delicious spot, switching to a patterned pulse. Your teeth dig into your lip as you shift in the seat, attempting to relieve the pressure, but it only leads to the toy pushing harder into that spot, abusing it continuously as you bite back any reactions that would be off.

His attention switches to you, and you nearly come apart right then and there.

“Are you okay?” He questions, concern shining in his sharp eyes. You manage a nod, fingers digging into the arms of your chair, attempting to sit upright. You need an excuse to leave, to go to the bathroom, or something. If you don’t soon, you’re going to fall apart right before his eyes, and there’ll be no way for you to conceal that.

“Absolutely luscious,” you reply out of habit, mind too preoccupied to sift through each word, switching onto autopilot. His brow quirks, and you could really moan at the sight. Thankfully, you don’t, clamping your teeth together as you dig crescent shapes into the heel of your palm.

“Luscious?” He repeats, the letters dragging appetising from his throat, coated in something dark and syrupy, something that would melt and splash over your skin. He sounds vaguely confused, but you have no time to unpack that.

“Delicious,” you correct, weakly, “I meant delicious.”

Upon seeing his confused look, your mind whirrs and spins for an explanation. A dizzy smile makes its way to your lips, hopefully just appearing a little drowsy from a long day of hard work. “I know it’s a weird phrase. My friend and I used to say it all the time because it made us laugh.” The smile becomes a little too sleepy looking, appearing closer to blissed out. “Guess it stuck.”

For a moment, you don’t think he’ll believe you. His gaze pierces into you, and you tighten around the vibrator, bringing the sensations��deeper.

“Full of kinks and quirks, aren’t you?” He drawls, attention returning to the device, looking ready to press another button. “Maybe you should stop messing around with that,” you suggest with forced lightness. “What if it’s messing with someone’s computer?” You argue, being dragged closer and closer to the edge with every second. “I can think of at least one Director who would be pissed if someone was messing around after-hours and accidentally deleted some files.”

He gives you an indecipherable look, then says, with a little too much pride, “every single file on my computer is backed up and stored elsewhere. If someone hasn’t taken precautions, that’s their own fault.” And presses the sixth button.

If you had been standing, you would have collapsed.

As it is, your spine arches ever so slightly, and you shift in the chair again, fingers digging into the arms. The pleasure hums between your legs, and for a second you’re worried he’ll be able to see arousal dripping to the floor.

“Either way,” he says, seemingly completely unaware of the hell and heaven he’s putting you through—for better or for worse. “It doesn’t seem to be doing anything.” And sets it down on your desk.

Without thought or explanation, you snatch it up, holding the power button for three second. Blissful reprieve soothes your nerves, even as a small part wishes for her release. At the odd look he’s giving you, eyes gleaming with something you can’t read, you manage to fumble out a vague explanation for your antsy behaviour, “I’m a bit anal about things like that.”

Not your best word choice, but it’ll have to suffice.

“About strange devices and stranger buttons?” He asks, and you could hiss at him. He so nearly— You don’t even bother expending energy on what would have happened if he hadn’t put it down. How you would have come apart right before his eyes. How furious Rhys would be, if it got back to him.

You’re not sure Azriel would be the type of man your usual persuasions would work on.

So you just nod, tiredly. “It’s like with plug sockets,” you manage, albeit a bit breathlessly. “I can’t stand when they’re on but not plugged in. Seems like a waste of some kind. Bothers me.”

Azriel simply hums, making your thighs squeeze together, shifting nervously as you try to relieve the intense buzzing feeling—the memory of those delicious, rapid-fire pulses.

Your breathing begins to even out, and you reach for your bag, hoping to get out of the room as soon as possible. Escape the situation. You must seem a little too out of it, though.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Azriel asks in that usual disinterested, monotone voice. Deep and rich. You manage to nod, “slightly unaccustomed to working a nine to five,” you explain, grabbing the device. “I’ll drop this off at reception on my way out,” you mutter, silently cursing your carelessness.

He shifts, and you realise he’s checking the time, brow raising. “A seven-thirty to half-ten, is more like it,” he corrects. You nearly groan as you realise how long you’ve been in this damn building for. In fact, you do groan, covering your face with your hands.

Heat shoots straight to your cunt when he laughs—actually laughs. Deep and delicious.

Bloody hell.

He’s so…different, outside work hours.

Maybe… No. No way. It wouldn’t work.

Unless…

“How was the coffee today?” You ask, sounding a bit too casual even to your own ears. His lips quirk and that’s it. You’re done for. He’s far too attractive to be working a job like this.

Well, you’re working a job like this, so you suppose it’s not too unbelievable.

Still.

“You can do better,” he replies, a faint smirk on his mouth. Damn him. You narrow your eyes, half teasing, half entirely serious. You take pleasure very seriously, even if it’s not sexual, and it seems his coffee may be the only thing that keeps him from throttling someone in this job.

“I don’t even know what I’m aiming for, Azriel,” you point out, a genuine smile curving your lips. “How do I know you’re not just sending me on a wild goose chase to create this perfect cup, huh?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to take my word for it and keep trying,” he replies easily, amusement gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Or,” you say, and you can’t believe you’re actually trying this. “You could give me a taste of this heavenly coffee. Firstly, to prove that it actually exists,” —you glare at him— “and secondly, to see if it’s better than the ones I’ve made.” You offer him a challenging smile, “because I’m going to be furious if I have a sip and it’s not even half-decent.”

He regards you silently, features unreadable, but you don’t retract the offer. Stand with a straightened spine, staring him down.

“Okay, then.” He relents, and you blink. Wow. Great.

Where from here?

His lips curve into a quiet smile, “I’ll show you tomorrow. Be ready to leave at five past one.”

Huh.

That settles it, then.

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General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

His P.A. Taglist: @i-am-infinite @going-through-shit

[loakstahni]

Good. Fucking. Girl.

Based on this post.

Agedup! Lo'ak x fem!na'vi reader

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MDNI🔞 DONT LIKE? DONT READ! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

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Day 28 of lunaskinktober2023 @pandoraslxna

⚠ warning ⚠

Smut without plot, rough p in v, dom-sub, male and female orgasm, breeding kink, praise/degrading kink, edging, teasing, breast suckling.

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"Little fuckin' slut.." His words echoed throughout your mind like a song stuck on repeat as his hips kept slamming into yours, his heavy, full balls slapping against the curve of your ass, surely leaving a red spot.

"M-ma lo'ak! P-please!" You sob, choking out a moan. Your hands grip at his broad shoulders, trying to find something to hold onto. Lo'ak stares down at you, chuckling deeply. He stops his movements completely, feeling your gummy walls clenching and unclench around his length.

"N-no.. No no no, please.. I was so close!" You sob, your ears drooping, making you look abosutly pitiful. "Nah, baby." He cups your jaw, making you look up at him. "If you want to cum, you shouldn't have been a brat eailer." He chuckles, making you whine. You had to admit, you did snap at him today, only because you were upset about a sick person that you and mo'at were taking care of, but of course, lo'ak is gonna fuck the brat outta' you anyway.

You whine, squirming and arching your body, trying to make him move and get the smallest bit of friction. "Please..." You draw out a whine, looking up at him again, your yellow eyes glossy with tears. "Hm.. Only if your promise to be a good girl." He rolls his hips back into yours and your almost sob. "Yes! I'll be good! S-so so good!" You blabber, tears streaming down your cheeks from how overly sensitive you felt.

Lo'ak thrusts his cock in and out of you again, teasing you by the slow pace. "Please.." You whine again, yourhead falling back agaisnt the bedding mat. Lo'ak finally gives in, slamming back into you every single time he pulls out. Your body jolts with the force of his thrusts, making lo'ak hold your hips to keep you from moving to much. "Good. Fucking. Girl." He growls, punctuating each word with a vary deep and hard thrust.

You cry out his name, choking out moans and gasping sharply, "gonna cum! P-ppleasepleaseplease!!!" You slur, your walls tightening around him like a vice as your orgasm washes over you like a wave of hot pleasure.

Lo'ak groans deeply above you, grinding his hips down into yours before he gives only last deep shove, his tip pressing into your cervix as he unloads himself, painting your gummy walls white.

You whine softly, panting heavily. Lo'ak carefully flops down ontop of you, gently kneading your breasts and suckling on your left one. "Good girl.. Did so good for me.." He mumbles softly, gently running a hand through your hair.

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[mtayl0rr]

The Anomaly: 1

Prologue Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!Original Character Rating: Mature Length: 1.2K Summary: Nobody gets the upper hand on Spider-Man 2099. Nobody, until a strange anomaly slipped from his grasp. Now, he’ll stop at nothing until he finds her. Warnings: enemies to lovers, eventual smut, cannon typical violence, graphic depictions of violence, Miguel is a bitch but so is she, cursing, angst, etc. trauma Note: First full chapter!! I promise the escape trope isn't finished after one chapter have faith i have stuff planned

Earth-B9402 was not Madelynn’s typical jump. Her brawl with 2099 left the watch she’d stolen broken and almost unusable. Although she still had her hacked day pass, she was stuck in a new universe. The jump killed the watch, sending her to the only coordinates she could punch into the cracked screen.

She managed to find shelter in the basement of an abandoned department store. It had all she needed: a couch, some blankets, miscellaneous materials she could use to repair her suit. Coming from where she did, she was used to living off of nothing. The shower in the old break room was stained red, a mix of blood and boxed hair dye. She didn’t take the time to wonder what store needed a shower for employees, but if she had the opportunity, why not take it. Now her hair will mirror the color of the blood she’ll draw from those who stand in her way. Those who side with 2099 in trying to capture her. All traces of brunette were wiped from the canvas of her body as every memory of the life she used to live washed down the drain with the blood and chemicals streaming off her skin.

Madelynn cursed under her breath as she ran the washcloth over her puncture wounds. 2099 was close to scratching bone when he finally caught her back on Earth-904H7. The coarse scabs forming over the exposed flesh looked angry as soap mixed with muscle. Hopefully, she’d never see 2099 again, and he’d never know that his wound elicited tears.

She’d never forget his haunting voice as he whispered in her ear threats of death if she dared to run. His low timbre sent a shiver down her spine, but she knew it was hollow. He wouldn’t be the one to kill her. Someone back home would. He’d just be the one to send her there.

Once she was dry, and her suit was repaired, Madelynn basked in the warmth of the torn up blankets left in the store. Anything was better than sleeping on the rooftops the past two nights. But, her relaxation was short-lived. The familiar tingling of her spine woke her up. The room was illuminated with a red hue, the same color of 2099’s glowing webbing. He was here, outside, looking for her.

Her suit was still half repaired; the blood was removed but the claw marks remained, her skin showing through the ripped elastic. Quickly, she ripped the vent cover off the corner and crawled through, swatting through cobwebs and rat shit. She had no idea how he tracked her down; the locator on her day pass and the watch were disabled. But, she didn’t have time to dwell on the “how.” He was here, and probably angry.

Through the echoes of the vent system, she heard his voice bounce off the walls; an agonizing scream of anger. He knew she was there, or at least had been. The shower was still wet, the blankets still rustled on the old couch. But he couldn’t fit through the vents like she could. He could assume where she was hiding, but he had no means of following her. As much as she hated to admit it, 2099 had an impressive physique. Heightened strength aside, he threw her around as if she was nothing. That night on Earth-904H7, his broad shoulders blocked the moonlight, drowning her in darkness. But, it meant that he couldn’t follow her.

Madelynn reached a vent gate that led to the outside of the department store, but she couldn’t risk taking such an obvious path. She pushed the gate open, shooting webs to make it look like she’d swung away before continuing her path through the vents. The whirring of the system grew louder the farther she climbed through the maze of metal tunnels and cobwebs, but her pace never faltered. She occasionally flinched at the sound of something hitting the dented paths, but she assumed it was simply her weight on the flimsy material. There was no way she was being followed.

Eventually, she made a big circle through the system, ending up right back where she started in the basement. Before she slid through the still open gate, Madelynn scanned the room, waiting for her spine to tingle at any danger, but nothing came. She’d successfully averted 2099 again. Her knees ached from all the crawling, the scabs gracing her skin nearly reopening from the abrasion of her suit’s fabric. Falling onto her couch, she lifted the edge of her mask and took a sip of the drink she’d stolen from upstairs before melting into the covers, only accompanied by the sound of something tapping on the metal of the vents.

Little did she know, while 2099 had fallen for her staged escape earlier, he hadn’t fully trusted it, sending a camera drone to search the vents he watched her crawl into. Now, it lurked in the opening where the vent grate used to be, waiting for 2099 to return.

He returned on foot, the red hue of his webs not giving him away this time as he gently rushed down the stairs to the basement. He could hear her labored breathing, her shoes tapping on the concrete floors. Curses ran through his mind as he calculated how much time he wasted falling for her simple deceit. He was nearly outsmarted again, but he wouldn’t let a slip up like last time happen.

One thing Madelynn neglected to remember about 2099 was despite his towering stature, he was abnormally stealthy. The last thing she expected was to be pushed against the wall, hearing the sound of her bone crack as 2099’s exposed face was inches from her own. Before she had time to react, he ripped her mask off her head, exposing the soft skin of her neck, and sunk his fangs into her flesh.

The effect of his venom was nearly instantaneous. Her body grew hot, the poison intertwining with her blood, leaving her limbs limp and dangling as 2099 crushed her body to the wall. She tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t move as she lost control of her jaw and tongue. All that came out was a pathetic scream of agony. All she could do was breathe, look, and listen as 2099 pulled away from her neck, licking her blood from his fangs as it dripped from his lips. His eyes glistened with a sick triumph as he moved his mouth closer to her ear.

“There’s nowhere to run,” he whispered, letting go of her body. She fell to the floor with a hard thump, her red hair mixing with the pool of blood flowing from her neck, watching helplessly as 2099 tapped at his watch, wiping curls of sweat soaked brown hair from his forehead.

The last thing she remembered was cursing how horrifyingly handsome he was under his mask before she succumbed to the lulls of the venom and passed out on the cold concrete.

Chapter 2

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