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soelstress · 2 months ago

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Silent In the Library

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: While on a mission with Bucky, both of you get creative to avoid detection.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , explicit sex/smut, fingering , p in v sex , unprotected sex , sex in a library , some language

A/N 1 - This is my second submission for @mercurial-chuckles Smutty September Fest. Thank you for doing this challenge, it's been fun playing around with the prompts.

A/N 2 - Prompts - Asked a friend to pick up to five prompts for me... of course I was given five so two stories it is 🙈 7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 14) Library sex for those dark academia vibes

A/N 3 - Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work - I think the photo was from the 'Fresh' Flaunt photoshoot but I saved it from Google

A/N 4 - Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

Your limited sight in the dark night only heightened your other senses. Branches of the hedge dug into the skin of your back, scraping the exposed flesh. Warm pants tickled your ear. The smell of fresh greenery swirled with cologne, but the hand around your throat prevented you from inhaling. Your heart pounded and breaths became shorter, you couldn’t take much more.

“Come with me”.

You froze when he suddenly crumpled to the ground without a noise. Not daring to even breathe, your eyes darted around. A shift in the shadows caught your attention, moonlight softly reflecting off black and gold Vibranium to reveal the presence of your saviour. You took a deep breath in relief, the sudden rush of air triggering a coughing fit. “What took you so long?”

A scoff reached you long before the outline of your mission partner, barely visible in his dark attire. “Despite what Sam believes, I do not have ‘cyborg x-ray vision’. Took me awhile to dodge security AND find you. In a maze. That’s out of bounds. Couldn’t have made it any easier for me, could you?” He stopped near you, pausing as your coughing fit didn’t seem to be easing. “You ok?”

You raised your arms in an attempt to ease your spluttering. After a few moments, it slowed. “Unfortunately for you, yes”. You took a few slow breaths before turning to him. “Sorry for any extra paperwork, I’m sure you’d prefer that to having to deal with me”.

“I can handle paperwork. What I can’t handle is Sam complaining if something happens to you. I wanted to throw him off the plane because he grilled me for a bruise that you got. After our last mission. Tripping over thin air”. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the weight of his trademark scowl. Hopefully he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks from his words which unfortunately were true. “So can we please try to keep you in one piece to complete the mission and the journey home?”

Right. The mission. The one requiring you to break into the mansion of a former Hydra informant to retrieve a drive that contained information on old Hydra bases and activities. The one that Sam swore would be best to infiltrate on the night of a big party to avoid rousing suspicion. The one he insisted on pairing you and Bucky together. James Bucky Barnes - tonight’s savour, the reason you had previously tripped over thin air, and ultimately your unrequited crush. Part of you wanted to kill Sam who teased you mercilessly for your crush but the other part relished the chance to work closely with the sinfully sexy Super Soldier.

The pair of you had decided to attend the party separately, providing two opportunities to grab the drive, but also separate alibis if required. On arrival, you had started by trying to sneak upstairs to the library. But one lone security guard had thwarted your effort and then proceeded to follow you. In a desperate attempt you tried to escape him in the maze but he had cornered you. He had toyed with you, threatening to take you to the host when Bucky had stepped in.

A soft grunt interrupted your musings. Bucky had picked up the security guard and removed his phone. Walking a few strides to where two hedges met to form a corner, Bucky carefully launched the guard to land on top of the eight foot hedges so he was out of sight from anyone walking by. You couldn’t help chuckling at the sight. Together you both started to follow the path of the maze in a companionable silence. A few turns had been made and in the distance you could see pinpricks of light from the mansion. Bucky’s warm hand grabbed your wrist. “Someone’s coming” he murmured. You knew he’d be thinking about how to fight his way out as quietly as possible. But with one guard down already, you couldn’t risk attracting further attention. And only one of you had Super Soldier speed. An idea burst into your mind as you glanced around, seeing a small path in the hedge that led to a dead end after a few paces.

You turned and yanked him toward you. “What -“ his question was cut off when you pulled him into a fierce kiss. Bucky froze. You were certain he’d shorted circuited and that you would end up having to fight your way through. Pulling away, you made to turn and face the approaching threat but Bucky guided you backwards towards the small path. His left arm cushioned your back from the hedge, hand cupping the back of your head. His nose and lips drifted along your neck and collarbone, growling when your hands gripped the lapels of his jacket in an effort to pull him closer. Lost in a fog of desire, you felt your body trying to meld to his. His right hand gripped your waist, your leg starting to lift up to his waist in response when he froze again. “They’re gone”. Reality washed over you like a cold tidal wave, the heat of embarrassment soon fighting with the chill you’d felt a moment ago. Though you craved so badly to stay pressed to him, you knew that he didn’t feel the same as you. Besides which and most importantly, you had a job to do. Unclenching your fingers from his jacket, you tried to lower your leg discreetly and checked your appearance as a cover. Bucky unwound his arms from around you but didn’t step back. “What was that?”

Face burning, you sidestepped him with a shrug. “All your training and you don’t know how hard it is to run in heels, let alone fight”. As you walked, you could feel heat in your belly and slick pooling in your panties. Unbelievable. You’d acted like a horny teenager - sharing one kiss and then pressing against him as he held you. How the hell had you lost control like that? There were a few moments of your footsteps before you heard Bucky’s tread catch up. Tension was thick as you silently headed towards the mansion. Leaving the maze, you saw people making their way indoors.

You avoided looking at Bucky. “I’ll mingle”.

“I’ll hit the bar”.

Both of you separated at the bottom of the stairs, joining the crowds to drift inside. You began to work your way around the room, spending a few minutes in various conversations and contributing noises of agreement or amusement. It would be enough for the fellow guests to notice you in the moment but difficult to remember later while also giving you a good cover in case security was watching. After thirty minutes, you walked down the hallway that led to the ladies room on the next floor but also the main stairs that led to the library on the top floor.

“Sam’s gonna kill me, your back looks like you got in a fight with an alley cat”. The rough timbre rumbled in your ear.

Shrugging, you cautiously began to climb the stairs. “Some guys these days can’t manhandle a woman properly. It’s not the first time I’ve been roughed up”. Bucky fell silent as you moved towards the landing of the next floor. You hadn’t noticed the scratches on your back, Bucky must have effectively shielded your back when he pushed you into the hedge. You bit your lip to hold in a soft moan at the thought. From the way the way he’d handled you and the security guard in the maze, you knew that his version of roughing up would be very different.

“Hold up, doll. Security’s sweeping the stairs. Just lean over and wave like you’ve seen someone”. Doing as instructed, you leaned against the railing. Somehow your gaze landed on Bucky at the bar. A choked gasp escaped your mouth at the first clear sight of him. You knew he wore black from his camouflage trick in the maze. But this was something else. Dressed in a form fitting black suit with tousled hair and stubble dusting his cheeks, he had your heart and mind racing. “See something you like, toots?” Caught in a blue gaze, you blinked before waving. Bucky raised a crystal glass of amber liquid, the black jacket looking snug against his beefy arms and broad chest.

Taking that as a signal to start moving again, you quietly hurried back along the corridor. “Almost didn’t recognise you without that scowl Barnes. You actually look decent”.

A soft chuckle sounded through the comm, sounds of movement following. You figured Bucky had left the bar. “Well you clean up nicely too. Almost mistook you for a dame in that dress” he teased. As you crept up the final stairway, a mirror was placed opposite the steps and you took a moment to admire the dress you wore. A black velvet maxi dress that was strapless and had a slit up the left side hugged your body. Blushing slightly, you couldn’t help feeling pleased that he had noticed. Reaching the top of the stairs, you moved towards the correct door.

You glanced behind you before carefully opening the door to the library, slipping inside before you closed it and looked around. Two walls were lined with books, every floor to ceiling shelf filled carefully and pristinely kept. The door you had just walked through was also framed with shelves of books. A giant rustic stone fireplace dominated the fourth wall to your left, a roaring fire illuminating an abstract painting mounted above it. Chesterfield seats were scattered through out the room. A pleasant smell of old books and leather soothed your nerves and you found yourself relaxing. Approaching the fireplace to examine the painting closely, you were suddenly yanked backwards into the left corner of the room near the door. As you wriggled, you managed to elbow your assailant before being restrained. “Calm down toots! It’s me” Bucky grunted in your ear before letting you go.

“I thought men from the forties were gentlemen?” Grumbling, you turned and straightened your dress before looking at him to see him rubbing where you’d jabbed him. “Gotta say Barnes, grabbing a lady like that tarnishes your reputation as a charmer”.

Bucky smirked, his face half hidden in darkness. “Depends on your definition of lady, doll. Besides you’re the one who said about being poorly handled in the maze”. You flushed, earlier thoughts of him handling you resurfacing. “Anyway, come look at this”. He pointed towards the left side of the fireplace. On closer inspection you noticed that the fireplace was not built flush into the wall but instead the stone sides jutted a few feet into the room. Before you could ask if the old man needed his eyes checked, he gently took your elbow and led to you the right side of the fireplace. A little corner nook was formed where the fireplace wall met the bookshelf of the adjoining wall. Near the corner a bookshelf slightly wider than Bucky was built in. “There’s an electronic book safe a few shelves up”.

Glancing around, you saw a rolling ladder on a track. You made to move when Bucky beat you to wheeling it as close as possible, but there was a small gap between the shelf and the ladder. Frowning, you glanced at Bucky who nodded and moved to hold the ladder on one side. As you climbed carefully up the rungs, you heard him move to hold both sides to stop the ladder from rolling. Carefully opening the safe cover, you saw the electronic key pad with the spaces for a five digit number flashing. Looking at the buttons, you could see five buttons had been pressed more frequently than others. As the possibilities for the code ran through your head and you eliminated any as a birthday or memorable date, you thought about how the owner of this mansion had become involved, anything you could remember about his background - of course. You scoffed softly and entered the code. 4-9-3-7-2. The lock clicking open echoed in the quiet room. Shaking your head, you reached into the safe and pulled out a small drive the size of a quarter before sealing the safe and replacing the book cover. You began to descend the ladder, carefully feeling for each step before moving.

Reaching the last rung, you felt Bucky behind you. Inhaling deeply you slowly turned, using the rungs for support until you found yourself eye to eye with him. Without a word he took the drive from you and slipped it in his breast pocket. His flesh hand cupped your cheek. Blazing blue eyes searched your soul before his lips brushed over yours. Warmth rushed through every fibre of your body. As he pulled back slightly, you ached with want, with need. Lifting your right hand from the rung you caught his stubbled chin and pressed a kissed to the dimple before ghosting a kiss at each corner of his mouth. With a sharp inhale Bucky kissed you softly, almost reverently. He deliberately took his time, a sharp contrast to the fierce kiss in the maze. This was so much better than you had ever imagined, his lips firm and soft though roughened by the stubble peppering his face. You gasped when his tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking access to your mouth. Once granted his tongue carefully tasted and teased, licking along your teeth and sending shivers down your spine. His tongue brushed yours and you could taste the whiskey he had been nursing earlier. Your thighs pressed together at his luscious licks, imagining that wicked tongue somewhere else. The hand holding his chin moved to drift through his hair while the other arm wrapped around his thick frame. Chests pressed together your leg slowly slid up and wrapped around his waist, grinding against him as you captured and sensually suckled his tongue. With a groan Bucky lifted you off the ladder and held you close. Your other leg wrapped around him as you continue to rub against him.

Bucky’s lips moved to leave a wet trail on your face, neck and chest. His right hand moved down your dress and snuck in along the slit. Cerulean eyes widened when he found how wet you were for him.

“The maze” you whisper, answering his unasked question.

Nuzzling your neck, his fingers slid under the material and glided through your soaking folds. You bit back a moan when he brushed over your clit. One thick finger pushed inside you, causing you to arch into him. “Fuck… so tight, baby”. As he moaned in your ear, another finger entered you. His thumb brushed your clit as his fingers curled upward. “Squeezing me so tight… God you feel so good”. The only sound that you could hear was your panting and the sound of his fingers fucking you. A burning pressure began to build.

“Barnes” you whimpered, humping his hand frantically.

“That’s it sweet girl, cum for me”. Bucky’s smile widened as you clamped down on his fingers, his mouth swooping down over yours to catch any noise.

Using his Vibranium arm to lift you higher, Bucky’s flesh hand fumbled to undo the waistband of his trousers. The sound of a zipper opening reached your ears. Searching blindly your fingers grasped his hot velvet flesh and gently squeezed the tip.

“Been hard since I first saw you in this dress earlier today”. Your eyes widened at the understanding Bucky had wanted you before leaving for the mission. “I wanted to break the fingers of that asshole who dared to touch you”.

Longing flooded you at the dark threat. “Want you so much. Bucky… Please” you whimpered.

As he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds and over your clit his gaze burned into you, marking you. Lowering you slowly onto his cock, both of you groaned as the thick flesh stretched you deliciously. Once his groin met yours, you let out a small whine at being filled so deeply.

Before he could move the door to the room opened, chatter and light filling the quiet space. Bucky quietly pushed the ladder back toward its original position before pressing you against the fireplace wall, only the length of the fireplace wall and shadows caused by the fire hiding your presence from the newcomers. Bucky’s eyes never left yours but you could tell his attention was elsewhere. Annoyance swept through you at the second interruption of the night chased by desire. Right now, you didn’t care that your mission was to infiltrate the home of a Hydra agent to steal essential intelligence. Right now, all that mattered was that Bucky - the man who you’d wanted for so long - was here with you, inside you. These people could notice you at any moment, could catch Bucky balls deep inside you…

At the thought, your core clenched around him which caused Bucky to let out a muffled curse. His dark brow raised in silent query. You’d never felt so exposed, so reckless and you wanted him in it with you. Rocking your hips, you tried to start moving against him. Bucky’s hold on you tightened as he shifted. A whimper escaped you as he nudged your clit with his movements. His flesh hand covered your mouth, both of you straining to hear any hints that you had been detected. But the chatter carried on, ignorant to the raw exhibition only a few feet away.

Bucky placed a single finger against your lips in warning. You gently licked his finger before nipping the tip and sucking it into your mouth. Jaw dropping, he inhaled slowly before he began to move. Tongue swirling around the digit, your sucking matched the pace of his slow and steady thrusts. As his body temperature began to rise you were caught in a delightful concoction of senses - Bucky’s scent of sandalwood mixed with the smell of the library, drowning in the depths of his loving and lustful gaze, tasting the slight tang of your arousal on his finger and the feel of his body caging you as you clung tightly to Bucky, trying to pull him even closer. Cautiously he positioned you against the shelf, leaving you immobilised and unable to do anything except continue to take his measured movements. He began to roll his hips and pulled back before repeating the motion. As a wave of heat began to build, you could swear you felt his cock harden further. “Cum” he breathed in your ear. The dam broke and the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you. Feeling a cry rise in your throat you kissed Bucky desperately. With a gasp he twitched inside you, filling you as he rolled his hips to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

Distantly, you heard the door open and close. Only the gentle crackling of the fire and soft panting filled the room now. Bucky lowered you till you stood on slightly wobbly legs and slowly pulled out of you. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he carefully wiped between your legs before doing the same to himself. Eyes locked with yours, he tugged your underwear and dress back into place before tucking himself back into his pants, placing the folded handkerchief into his pants pocket. Leaning forward he caught your mouth in a soft tender kiss. “That should’ve been our first kiss” he murmured.

“So what happens now?” You hated to think that this had only happened because of the mission, that nothing had changed. When his fingers entwined with yours, you were surprised to see him smiling softly.

“Long term? I want to court you baby, for you to be my girl and me to be your guy. But now? We leave, head home and handover the drive”. A twinkle danced in his eye as his smile changed to a smirk. “And then I want to hear you all night. No interruptions. No being quiet.” His brow puckered in confusion when you giggled. “What?”

“Looks like we’ll both be giving Sam something to complain about”.

#smutty september fest 2024 #indulge with chuckles #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan characters

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tra1nchi · 1 month ago

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heyyyyaurrrr....bottom ftm reader x yandere puppy boy who has a breeding kink 🗣️‼️‼️

MINORS DNI!! bttm ftm reader,,breeding,, rough and needy,,half doggy boy

How did you get stuck with such a clingy pup like him? Going to the bound for a nice well behaved cat demi human and coming out with an Excitable, clingy and well big dog demi was not something you expected.

But the kind old woman who sold him to you was so adamant on giving him away and how could you say no when he gave you the sweetest puppy dog eyes?

He was talking non stop as you brought him home, his large tail pounding against your car seat. You didn't mind that. However what you did mind was his hand visibly groping your thigh. I mean, he wasn't even trying to hide it from you!

He seemed so desperate for you over the coming days when you had finally brought him home,resisting the urge constantly hump against your legs or catch you off card in bed and press his face into your boypussy, he craved you so badly.

You finally gave into him, much to his delight. His heart was pounding out of his chest as you layed underneath him. His cock drooling against his tummy as he worshipped your body. Forcing it into his mind so he'd never forget.

When you wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing him back down to reality. He groaned forcing himself not to cum from you showing your ownership over him. You were his and he was yours, repeating that constantly in his head like a mantra.

"We should..have pups." He spits out looking up at you with begging eyes and before you could even reply or for that matter, deny. He shoved himself into your tight, wet heat. Moaning like a virgin, his hips were uncontrolled as they snapped into your cunt.

"Gonna breed you so fucking hard..Nice and..ah! Blump with my pups." He whined into your ear, his body weight effectively crushing yours as he lost himself in your warmth. His tail wagging nonstop and he slid in and out, his ears flat against his head and his eyes white from how good you felt to him.

He couldn't believe how such a perfect pussy was his owners!! His new mate and future father of his pups..just that thought alone could make him cum all over himself, forever.

#{anon asks}#{h4rny ask}#{bttm male reader}#bottom male reader #sub male reader #x sub male reader #x bottom male reader

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literaila · 2 months ago

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i need more of gojo's dopey grin and reader cooing over him when they're alone

“hey.”

to anyone else, this position might look a bit… concerning.

but laying face down in your bed, head smushed into the pillow, fingers clinging at the sheets underneath the duvet, uniform still on—well, this is normal to satoru.

because of course it is.

you don’t bother to move, or breathe, or really even comprehend that gojo is back several hours later than he’d told you he would be.

no, your feet hurt a bit too much, and your shoulders feel pinched. whoever invented nerves and muscles anyway? and how can you travel back in time to murder them?

“why are you home?” you ask satoru, voice muffled into the pillow.

but he must understand you well enough because the weight of the bed shifts at your waist, and there’s a hand on your back. “i don’t know… thought i might try going to bed a bit earlier.”

“no, you didn’t.”

he must be smiling. “no, i didn’t. i did miss you though. tired?”

“i think i died.”

“mmm…” and then there’s a weight—at least a billion tons—covering your body, and an ear in the middle of your back as gojo lays on you. “ah, nope! there’s your heart. it’s very happy to see me.”

“my eyes are closed.”

“the heart knows no bounds, darling.”

you scoff and then remember that your lungs are being crushed. “gojo,” you cough out, lifting your head finally. “i can’t breathe.”

“then how are you speaking to me?” he asks, bravado evidence in every inch of him, but he lifts himself off and you relax once again—or relax as much as a person who might never be able to get up again can.

but then there’s a hand at your shoulders, and a blinding light in your eyes as satoru flips you over, his knees finding their place on either side of you, hands right by your neck.

“ugh,” you try to move back, but he’s on top of you. so, yeah no, nothing happening there. “i hate this thing,” you say, reaching around him to mess with the knot he’s tied at the back of his head.

usually you don’t mind the blindfold, but today it has potential to ruin your entire relationship.

satoru only laughs, pushing your hands away as he does it himself. his eyes are there, after that, focused on you even as he leans over to set the blindfold somewhere unimportant.

“the kids asleep?” he asks you, staying above you—where he’s most comfortable.

“tsumiki came and said goodnight an hour ago. and megumi might be in a coma because he fell asleep at six and probably won’t ever wake up again.”

“oh, good, so we’re off the hook.”

“yup. for at least seven more hours.”

satoru grins, his hair in your eyes as he leans down. “that’s enough time,” he tells you, kissing the side of your jaw, and then your neck, and then—

“i’m too tired,” you tell him, kind of pouting, kind of wishing you had any energy to push him off. “why are teenagers so fast?”

he kisses back up, still smiling. “endurance training?”

“i think it was more ‘let’s practice killing our teacher’ training.”

“aw, that’s my favorite,” his eyes meet yours. “did you at least kick their asses?”

you scoff. “are you kidding?”

gojo shakes his head, mostly just to taunt you.

“of course i did,” you huff, kneeing his stomach so he’ll get off.

satoru complies, just to show that he can be sweet.

and it might take all of your body strength, but as soon as he is on his side, you curl up beside him, leg swung across his hips.

you ignore satoru’s silent laugh and make an effort not to comment on the hand that wraps around you, keeping you secured to him.

“good?”

“hmm.”

satoru swallows, hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt, playing with the fabric. “i had another meeting today.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“how’d it go?” you ask softly, grabbing his hand instead. you intertwine your fingers, allowing his subtle teasing of his thumb on your skin.

“fine. good. bad,” satoru sighs. “i need to take another trip soon.”

“hmm.”

“not until the end of the month, probably. but soon.”

“okay,” you whisper to him, looking at your hands. “that’s fine.”

he makes a noise, nuzzling his nose into your forehead. “that’s what took so long. i didn’t mean to miss dinner.”

you laugh, squirming away from the ticklish feeling. “it’s okay. at least megumi was more pleasant than usual. no one to tease him.”

“i’ll double it tomorrow.”

you groan, turning so you can look up at him—because if you’re going to convince him of anything, you’ll need your face to do it.

but satoru is already grinning back at you.

his eyes are entirely soft. his skin as always been so perfect, the planes and edges of his face a mesmerizing configuration.

you must be really tired, because you pause for a moment. satoru looks at you like that often enough but it—

it doesn’t make it any more bearable.

so you groan again, shaking his hand from yours. “stop smiling at me like that. i can’t focus, and im trying to argue with you.”

he laughs. “i thought you were tired.”

“i am. i cant be dealing with you and your face right now.”

“my face?”

“your stupid eyes.”

“stupid?”

“shut up, gojo,” you tell him, shaking your head. “i’m closing my eyes. don’t look at me.”

“but i just can’t stop,” he murmurs, sweetly.

and against all judgement you look at him again—and he’s still smiling.

this time, you swallow, looking a little bit more.

no one ever said you weren’t allowed to admire him just a little bit. it’s not like it’s illegal.

satoru hums and leans down. he kisses you softly, both of your necks straining, and you can still feel the damn smile. can taste the exuberance, smell the sincerity.

he adjusts both of you then, moving so that you’re laying all the way on the bed, no longer bending your neck to see him.

satoru pulls away with a smack, eyes very close to yours. “your lips are warm.”

you close your eyes. “stop,” you say to him, so quiet it’s almost inaudible.

but satoru doesnt.

#gojo x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff #satoru x you #jjk x you

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daycourtofficial · 9 months ago

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A Valentine for You

Summary: Nyx learns about making valentines at school and convinces you to make one that accidentally ends up in Azriel’s hands

Author’s note: doesn’t this sound adorable any plot with Nyx is sure to be the cutest thing ever also this might just be the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written happy valentine’s day babes hope you all enjoyed my valentine’s fics 💕

Warnings: none, sentient house ships you with Azriel

Nyx came bounding down the stairs, yelling your name as he came in, his wings flapping as fast as his legs. He wasn’t quite large enough to support his weight, but he could get a little extra spring in his step as he ran.

He ran straight into your arms, launching himself into your torso. You laugh at the boy, his backpack comically large on his small frame.

“How was school, Nyxie?” You ask, carrying him into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around your neck as you start to grab the plate of cookies you had hidden earlier. The two of you start munching on cookies, and he gets the entire front of his shirt covered in cookie crumbs. You wipe them off, trying to clean him a bit.

“We learned about Valentine’s day.”

“And what did you learn about it?” You ask, pinching his cheeks.

He swats at your hands, “I don’t know it’s about love and stuff, but I made these cards for everyone.”

He wiggles out of your grasp, putting his bag in the ground to rummage through it. He pulls out a stack of cards, each one colorfully doodled and covered in varieties of glitter, bead, and macaroni noodle the world has never seen.

He shows you each card, going through the message he wrote for each person. You caught a glimpse of one that he snatched away and said, “no peeking! That’s for you!”

“And this one is for Uncle Cassian - I wrote ‘be better’ because he always tells me that.”

You stifle a laugh at the ominousness of receiving a valentine from a child that just tells you to be better, but he continues.

“And this is my one for - wait, where’s my card for uncle Az?”

He frantically searches through the pile, and then moves towards his bag to rifle through it again in hopes of finding it.

Tears start lining his eyes, concern that his favorite uncle will feel unloved on Valentine’s Day for not receiving a card from him.

“Hey, Nyx, how about we make one now, yeah?”

Nyx sniffles, but his wings perk back up, “yeah. Will you make one for him too? It’ll be extra special if he gets one from you!”

You stall, “I haven’t written one in a long time, Nyx. What do I do?”

“My teacher said you can put your feelings in it and your wish will come true! That’s why I asked auntie Nesta to fight with the Valkyries.”

Nyx has no idea of your minor crush on his uncle, how every look of his is burned into your soul. You also can’t deny his little request, so you decide to make one and just destroy it later in the evening. Your crush on him was getting embarassing, and you knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere.

You find yourself writing an incredibly heartfelt valentine, pouring all of your feelings onto the page. You even write Az’s name on the cover of the heart shaped paper. You’re ready to burn it in the fire and make a new one that just says “happy valentine’s day”, when Nyx spills his juice all over the table and on himself.

He starts gettjng upset, a little boy who hates being dirty, every inch his father in that regard, and you rush to pick him up and whisk him away to bathe him.

Unbeknownst to you, while you’re bathing Nyx (and he cries anyway about being wet), Azriel walks into the townhouse, finding the heart shaped paper on the table. Seeing that it’s addressed to him, he assumed it was from his nephew. He had been making valentines for everyone at school, and Azriel was curious if he would make one for his uncle. He knew the little boy was saving it for the holiday, but he couldn’t resist looking inside to see what the card says.

The card in front of him is leagues better than anything Nyx could make, not just in quality but in the content inside.

Hi Az,

Nyx explained to me how they make valentine’s cards in school and how you’re supposed to declare your love, so here I am, a girl in a valentine, wishing desperately you felt the same way about me. Maybe I should give up on this hope you’ll share my devotions.

But hey, I need to get it out, so here it is. I am hopelessly in love with you, will you be my valentine?

He scrutinizes the signature on the bottom, certain that one of his brothers forged it in an attempt for him to confront his feelings.

His heart is soaring at your words at the end, but it quickly fills with dread as he rereads and rereads your words.

“Maybe I should give up on my devotions”?

He can’t let you get over him, not when he’s been trying so hard for the past few months to just tell you how he feels, each time the words unable to come out. The past month every time the two of you had been alone, the words would creep onto his tongue, begging to be let out, but he would shove them down, deep where no one could hear them.

He tucks the card into his jacket, trudging up the stairs to begin plotting his response.

The bath with Nyx pushed the valentine from your mind, but the thought of the card invaded all of Azriel’s thoughts as he paced through his room that night, trying to plan out his next move.

Most of the holiday goes by uneventfully. You enjoy walking the street of Velaris, seeing the hustle and bustle of males and females alike trying to find a gift for their beau.

The streets are filled with flowers, money exchanging hands. Most customers leave with at least one bundle of flowers, one female leaving with as many bundles as she can carry.

Your mind races with thoughts of Azriel, wondering if he was doing anything this holiday. In recent years you can’t think of him having any plans, in fact the past three or four he had spent the holiday with you.

You wander home to the House of Wind, moving through the house to drop your market finds off in your bedroom. You come to your room, finding an envelope underneath a rose on your vanity. You walk over, smelling the rose and it smells both flowery and like cedar. The scents linger on the card as well, as you pull it out from the envelope.

You’re expecting a card from Nyx, because he refused to show you your card yesterday, but instead you find your name delicately written on the front of the card in Azriel’s tiny, near script.

You sit in a chair, opening the card to find the entire page full of words.

Dearest,

It’s the holiday of love. New love, old love, rekindled love. I have been trying for weeks on end to get the words out, but I find no excuses holding them back today.

I yearn for you. I yearn for our stolen moments in crowded rooms, I yearn for your gaze meeting mine, a conversation without words, just the colors of our eyes mixing.

My favorite day of the week is Sunday, because I pretend like I haven’t spent the whole week in anticipation of being next to you on the couch in the library. We spend the afternoon reading, discussing our books aloud. Eventually you settle more and more into your seat, your legs stretching across my lap.

I will pretend it is casual for me to place my hand on your calf, as if I am not calculating every movement so as not to scare you. My favorite Sundays are when you fall asleep while reading, because I know you feel safe enough with me to put all your faith into me that I will keep you safe while you slumber.

I know the worst parts of myself, the parts that so many would find difficult to put up with. And yet you have shown nothing but kindness to those parts.

My heart is yours, and if that means only getting glimpses of a life with you, I will cherish them for all time.

Eternally yours,

Azriel

You are awestruck at the words in front of you. You read the card several times, soaking in the cadence of his words, hearing the words in his deep voice.

Mor and Feyre had been trying for months to get you to say something, and a flicker of annoyance passes through you thinking about how vindicated they’d feel at this card.

You jump up, thinking why the hell am I sitting here when a male just confessed his undying love for me? He yearns for me, and you him. You fling open the door, only to find that someone, you assume Azriel, scattered a line of rose petals from your room down the hall.

You follow it, leading you in a trail directly to the library where you and Azriel have spent so many nights staying up, neither of you wanting to leave the other’s company.

You open the doors to find the room covered in flowers. Daisies on roses on lilies, their colors creating no matching scheme. Reds, blues, whites, purples fill your eyes until they land on hazel.

“Hi,” you tell him, all the bravado from the note he left leaving you as you stand in front of him.

“Hi,” he whispers, stepping towards you. Nerves coat that one word, and he clears his throat, willing his voice strong and steady. “Did you get my card?”

You smile, eyes lighting up, “um yes, yes I did. It was lovely, thank you.”

Your mind can’t think of anything else to say. He professed his love for you and all you can do is thank him? Your feet move forward on their own, but your mouth opens again.

“I never knew you were so talented with words.”

The two of you are drawing closer to each other, magnets coming together.

“You got to read my three hundredth draft, so I hope it was worth the read. I’ve never had to resort to such words before, never thought anyone deserved them.”

You breathe in, his scent invading your system. His words a clanging in your mind. “I-um, are these for me?”

You gesture to all the flowers filling the room, unable to linger on his words of devotion, and he chuckles, “yes, they are.”

You make eye contact once again, “they are beautiful, thank you.”

This is uncharted territory, unknown lands. You don’t know what to say, what he wants to hear.

“They reminded me of you.”

Your eyes peer into his, sincerity looking back at you in a midst of hazel and gold. You think of his words in the letter, his sign off eternally yours, and ask the question you’ve been wondering since you began reading the letter the first time.

“Did you mean it?”

You wring your hands in front of you, looking down in fear of seeing rejection in his eyes. You don’t notice him step closer until he’s taking your hands, holding them gently in his own.

“Every word. I have more words, but I thought those got my point across well enough. I was inspired, actually.”

One of his hands removes itself from yours, but his other hand quickly moves to hold both of your hands. He pulls a familiar red card from his jacket, and your cheeks turn the same shade as the card in mortification.

You start opening and closing your mouth like a fish, shock and confusion making words impossible.

“How did you- where did you-what-“ is all that’s able to come out before he’s chuckling and cutting you off.

“I found it on the table yesterday.”

You gasp, “I had to bathe Nyx and I forgot all about it!”

He places the card back into his jacket pocket, his eyes not leaving yours as he moves.

“Did you mean it?”

It’s his turn to be insecure, to be nervous. Vulnerability was not something the shadowsinger did lightly, and he knew your answer could destroy him.

“Every word. I have more, if you want them.”

Echoing his own words back to him, he smiles.

“I’ll take every word you give me as gospel,” he tells you, inching closer to you.

“Kiss me.”

He cups your face, your hands pressing against his chest. His lips gently brush your own, tentative, gentle. You put your hand on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. He responds immediately, moving his hands around your back to pull you into him.

You’re panting, your lungs wanting air but the rest of your body wanting him. The room is loud with the sounds of your lips connecting and reconnecting, breathy moans escaping from both of you.

You have no idea how long you’re swept up in kissing him until your brain begins working again, and a question comes to mind. You pull away from him, a groan leaving him as you do so. You only make it a few inches from his lips when you find the words.

“How did you get all of these in here without my noticing? Also what if I had come in here before my room?”

The whole time you were talking, his gaze is focused on your mouth, and he even moves forward slightly, as if the urge to kiss you was overwhelming him. Once you finish speaking he kisses your lips again before answering. “You almost caught me in the city, but I hid behind a massive bundle of sunflowers. And I may or may not have asked the house to lock the doors for you.”

To reiterate his point the house locked and unlocked the doors behind you.

“How’d you do the rose petals?”

“What rose petals?” He asks, the question breaking his eye contact with your mouth

“There were rose petals lining the hallway, telling me to come here.”

“I thought you knew to come here because of the letter.”

Confusion lines both of your faces until the house dumps a giant pile of rose petals onto the two of you.

You both laugh at the message the house was sending, and you laugh even further as Azriel begins kissing you and the house makes a big deal of locking the doors again.

You both laugh as you kiss him again, and he picks you up, laying you down on the bed of rose petals before lying on top of you.

“Who knew the house was such a romantic?”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n

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rennalaqotfm · 2 months ago

Text

𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART IV)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Sexual content (but MDNI 18+ just to be safe), dry humping (-ish?), violence, alcohol consumption, toxic dynamics, swearing, themes of prejudice and misogynism, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said, (not proofread).

WC: 5.6k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

As the winds guided Ser Tyland's ship to the Free Cities, the excitement regarding the wedding of the future Princess of Dorne and the Crown Prince buzzed in the air. No ravens had to be sent, for the whispers began within the palace walls, spread through the bustling streets of Sunspear, and were carried by the desert winds across the dunes, reaching the furthest Dornish houses.

Princess Y/n sat before her mirror, watching her handmaiden, Melynda, fasten the back of her dress. A sweet girl of one-and-twenty, Melynda had been brought from Pentos on a cramped boat, a former slave traded by her master for coin. Ever since she had served the Princess with quiet devotion, her nimble fingers always making a masterpiece out of her.

Despite being draped in the finest fabrics of deep sapphire, adorned with intricate golden swirls and beads of amber, Y/n stared blankly at her reflection. The celebrations leading to the wedding were set to last a fortnight, a long stretch filled with feasts, ceremonies, and endless politicking. In mere hours, she would be facing the guests, forced to smile and charm as she and the Velaryon boy persuaded them to align with Rhaenyra's cause. She didn't even know where to begin looking for the strength and willpower she had to gather to convince those lords to join a war she herself didn't fully believe in.

“Is it too tight, Princess?” Melynda asked meekly, noting how Y/n had remained quiet the whole time she had been preparing her. "Princess?"

Suddenly, Y/n's bottom lip began to quiver as she felt a knot forming in her throat.

“Gods be damned…” she muttered, feeling her tears pooling in her eyes. “How did it all come to this?”

“If it's too tight, mayhaps I could—”

“Of course, it’s bloody tight! It’s damn near crushing my guts!” the Princess burst out, causing her handmaiden to stumble backward, her hands trembling. “I apologise, Melynda,” she sniffed, feeling the guilt pool in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she had taken her anger and frustration out on the younger girl. Of all the people in the palace, she was the least deserving of such crude treatment. “It’s just—”

“I understand, Princess,” Melynda smiled sadly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y/n held her hand softly, holding back her cries. “To be betrothed to someone who you don't truly love must be a punishment for the soul.”

“I’ve been trying to avoid this all these years. Gods forbid a woman who wants to live a life free from all this nonsense," she muttered bitterly.

“You are to be the Princess of Dorne. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But not with a Targaryen… someone who sees us as nothing more than goatfuckers.”

“Once you get to acquainted with one another, I’m certain he’ll see past the veil of prejudice that blinds the rest of Westeros.”

“Oh, we’re well past the point of acquaintances, and I’m certain we’ve both made it clear that we’d rather kill each other than push forward with this betrothal.”

“And yet, you've hardly spent a moment alone together, away from prying eyes. Forgive me if I'm wrong, my Princess, but this hostility you feel towards one another... it feels more like the weight of your houses than your own. He’s not truly wronged you, nor have you wronged him... well, apart from the few wounds you’ve exchanged.”

“I wish it were as simple as you say, but the hatred between our houses runs deeper than that trial. We’re talking about years of bloodshed, of lives torn apart by their desire to conquer what was never theirs. How can we ever forget that? If anything, those Targaryens are only reaping what they've sown.”

“I understand, Princess, but is it truly fair to place the sins of the forefathers upon their children? Yes, the Targaryens once sought to conquer Dorne, but they failed. And since then, they’ve left us to rule our lands. Why should Prince Jacaerys suffer for the wrongdoings of his ancestors when he himself hasn't harmed you?”

“You speak the truth, Melynda. But do you truly think the rest of the Dorne will see it that way?” She stared at her handmaiden's reflection. “The pain the Targaryens have caused... it’s not just written in our histories, it’s engraved into the souls of our people.”

“I’m not saying that your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys will reconcile your houses overnight, Princess. In fact, it may take generations to heal these wounds. However, if Queen Rhaenyra proves to be the rightful and just ruler she claims to be, and honours your demands... and you and Prince Jacaerys unite the Seven Kingdoms as promised, then mayhaps it could be the beginning of something.”

Suddenly, both women were startled by a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Y/n cleared her throat.

“My Princess,” Ser Domeric said from the other side. “The guests have begun to arrive, and your presence is expected shortly.”

Princess Y/n quickly composed herself, ensuring that any trace of sorrow had vanished from her face, and replaced her semblance with a mask of indifference.

The late afternoon breeze crept through the palace windows, stirring the heavy air in the Hall but doing little to lift the mood. Spirits were low and the lingering music was drowned out by the quiet murmurs of the guests. Lords and ladies from House Yronwood to House Qorgyle had traversed across the arid deserts to Sunspear, not out of enthusiasm, but out of duty, their gazes shifting warily as they gathered to pay tribute to the Princess. Even Y/n herself, appeared as though she wished to be anywhere else.

At the high table, the Martells sat alongside the Targaryens, not able to look one another eye to eye. They faced the great houses, whose semblance didn’t hide their disdain for the dragonriders. They showed no efforts for forced pleasantries, bracing themselves for the next chapter of conflict rather than celebrating a wedding that would unite the Seven Kingdoms.

Before anything, Prince Qoren stood up, ready to speak before his people.

“It is truly an honour to welcome you all this evening, and I thank each and every one of you for making the long journey to Sunspear. Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the betrothal of my beloved daughter, Princess Y/n Martell, to the Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon... but also, the union between House Martell and House Targaryen,” he spoke, the enthusiasm fading in his voice.

The crowd fell into an immediate hush, the lords and ladies exchanging uncertain glances, some full of resentment, and some full of disgust. Y/n felt each pressing gaze suffocating her and tried to hide her discomfort behind the rim of her cup, already expecting those pessimistic reactions. After all, who in their right mind would willingly wed a Targaryen?

“Out of all of the suitors that have lost their lives willing to serve you and our realm, you chose to spare the one whose ancestors sought to conquer our lands?” Lady Liara from House Briar’s voice trembled, barely able to hold back her anger. “Could you not have shown mercy to my sweet boy Eldritch instead?”

The Princess had always been taught to hold back in such moments, especially in front of such a large audience, but before she could stop herself, the words were already spilling out of her mouth.

“My Lady,” Y/n began, trying to push down the feeling of irritation rising up her chest. “Remind me… who sent your son, alone, to seek my hand? As far as I know, someone that young shouldn’t be burdened with ‘providing me a strong heir’ or ‘making Dorne more prosperous than it already is.’ Those aren’t words a boy of three-and-ten should be speaking.”

Lady Liara sank back to her seat with a scowl. The Princess’ gaze swept across the Hall, their faces etched with grief and bitterness, never forgetting the lives lost in pursuit of her hand.

Whilst the guests sat in silence, waiting for either Prince Qoren or Princess Y/n to justify such a decision, Rhaenyra seized the moment to capture the crowd’s attention. She cleared her throat and rose slowly, her lilac eyes lingering on each guest, meeting the same eyes that had carried pent-up hatred for generations.

“By coming here, we are not denying the sins of House Targaryen,” she paused, allowing her words to settle, her gaze never leaving the crowd. “I understand that to many of you, we are still the enemy. I am aware of the blood that was spilled and the pain that has lingered for generations. But the true enemies now are the Greens, who have usurped the Throne and seek to bring all of Westeros to its knees. And I know Dorne will not bend without a fight. Join us, and we will stand together. We can prevent the war that the Greens will bring to your lands.”

Despite Rhaenyra's words, the guests still mumbled with one another and her plea fell on indifferent ears. She clasped her hands together, holding her composure.

“So, the Greens are the enemies now, eh?" A voice echoing across the hall finally broke through the whispers. “To them, you are the usurper. And as far as we are concerned, they have yet to come to our lands to pester us with this petty war of yours.”

“Do not mistake their silence for mercy, my Lord. When they come, they will not ask. They will take. And by then, it may be too late to decide where your loyalties lie,” Daemon retorted.

“They have left us with no other choice,” Lord Lysander Dayne scowled. “Is this why you brought these beasts? So they can burn us if we refuse to join?”

Upon the mere mention of the dragons, the fear of the crowd became palpable. Prince Qoren’s face was flushed with anger, seeing that the celebration had somehow turned into a council meeting.

“Enough of this nonsense!” Prince Qoren bellowed, rising to his feet and jabbing his fist to the table. "We are here to celebrate the upcoming wedding of my daughter, not to squabble over this bloody war! If I hear more of it tonight, I’ll throw you in a pit of scorpions myself," his voice cut through the crowd, making the lords shrink back into their seats as he glared at Rhaenyra.

The music, which had momentarily ceased, began to play again. Princess Y/n exhaled deeply, gripping her cup as she swirled the crimson liquid. If she was going to endure the remainder of this night and persuade those thick-skulled lords to support Rhaenyra, she would need wine. A lot of it. She downed the first cup, the sweet taste lingering on her palate as her gaze shifted across the room, spotting the lords she had to sway.

Lord Lysander of House Dayne sat with his lady wife, his stern face etched with displeasure. He had made it clear where he stood, opposing any involvement in the war. Yet, he was infamously known for his ambition; he was the sort of man who would bend the knee for the right price, advancing his own house in exchange for his formidable army. Then there was Lord Thaddeus of House Yronwood, head of the second-most powerful house in Dorne, capable of providing enough supplies to sustain the armies at sea; a practical man, loyal to tradition, but always open to negotiation. On the other side of the Hall, she spotted Lord Ander of House Jordayne, who owned the largest fleet in Dorne.

Ser Domeric, being part of House Uller and their loyal informant, would provide whatever support was asked. And lastly, House Santagar, though not enthusiastic, had always been fiercely loyal to the Martells and would stand by their house regardless.

Despite the collective disappointment lingering in the air, as the feast came to an end, the guests stood up to salvage what remained of the evening. Jacaerys’ eyes followed Y/n as she rose from her seat, weaving through the multitude and making her way to Lord Lysander. The man bowed his head and extended his hand, offering the Princess a dance which she accepted with a smile that seemed far too charming than she would normally allow herself to be. Jacaerys couldn’t tear his gaze from Y/n, watching how she leaned towards Lord Lysander, her lips closely brushing his ear, as he nodded eagerly so as not to disappoint her.

“A celebration of our upcoming betrothal?” Jacaerys scoffed, already feeling his blood boil at the sight of the Princess with another man. Had they been at the Red Keep, the whispers would have already circled around, rumours of the Princess enjoying the company of other men, even while bound by a betrothal to him, that would call into question not only her honour but the legitimacy of their future children. He could already hear the council’s scandalous whispers behind closed doors–whispers that had been haunting him all his life.

“She’s quite gifted, isn’t she, my dear sister?” Elyas remarked, turning to Jacaerys. “She has a way of making men dance in the palm of her hand.”

“Only if one is foolish enough to fall for whatever games she is playing,” Jacaerys muttered.

Jacaerys and Elyas watched how Lord Lysander placed a kiss on top of her hand. With one final whisper, she slipped away from his arms and disappeared into the crowd, only to be seen again; that time with Lord Ander, who offered the Princess his hand without hesitation.

“There are a couple of things you should know about her,” Elyas said with a sneer, glancing at the Princess. “One of them is… you’ll never be her only one.”

“You need not tell me what I can already see. It seems your sister is not familiar with the notion of faithfulness.”

“Faithfulness? As far as I’m aware, neither of you are bound by vows just yet,” Elyas grinned, noting how Jacaerys clearly wasn’t enjoying the conversation. "But listen, this celebration isn’t meant for you to sulk in a corner, watching my sister dance with every lord in Dorne. It's for indulging. There’s a place not too far from the palace, where we know how to truly celebrate. Who knows? You might not even survive this war you’re throwing yourself into. You may as well enjoy the finest pleasures our land has to offer before it’s too late," Jacaerys’s knuckles whitened around his cup, his repulsion palpable, but Elyas only leaned in closer.

As much as Jacaerys despised watching Princess Y/n flit from lord to lord, he wasn’t about to lower himself to her games. What was she trying to prove? Was she testing him, daring him to show any signs of jealousy or anger? Or mayhaps she was simply making it clear, once again, how much she misliked him?

Jacaerys refused to give Elyas the satisfaction of a response and merely shook his head. Elyas smirked, amused by Jacaerys' restraint, and stood up, ensuring he ruined the evening even more before leaving.

“Oh, and just so you know… whatever illusions you have about loyalty and honour, you'd best cast them aside. If you think my sister will suddenly change her ways after this betrothal of yours, then you’re completely wrong. I’m telling you now, she won’t. She’s as Dornish as they come… untamable and always chasing trouble. The more you tighten the leash, the more she’ll struggle to break free. And she’ll keep playing her games, whether you like them or not... so you better learn how to play them if you don't wish to end up as another one of her playthings,” Elyas said, slapping Jacaerys’ shoulder playfully before walking away.

Jacaerys hadn’t even realised how tightly he was clenching his jaw until the sound of Elyas and his sworn protector’s fading footsteps pulled him back to reality. He let out a breath, trying to shake off the bitterness away, and downed a gulp of wine.

But what he hadn’t noticed was a pair of dark wide eyes watching him from the other end of the table. It was Farien, whose gaze had been flickering between him and Elyas the whole time. When Jacaerys caught the boy's gaze, his expression softened. He set down his cup, watching how the little boy stood up and made his way over to him.

“If you marry my sister, does that mean you’ll become my brother?” Farien asked.

“I suppose,” he forced a smile, though he wasn’t sure if the little boy was particularly glad about that.

Farien climbed on to the empty seat beside Jacaerys, glancing around the nearly deserted table and making sure none of his family members were nearby. All of the Martells were tending their own business, leaving the Targaryens seated in silence. The boy leaned in close, cupping his small hands around Jacaerys’s ear, scared that someone might hear what he had to say.

“So, does that mean I get to ride your dragon?” He whispered.

Jacaerys looked at him, his eyes widening in surprise.

“If your father allows you, then I suppose you could… but are you not afraid?” He asked.

“I’m really, really scared. But I wonder what it must feel like to see the world from up above. The closest I’ve ever gotten to flying is in my dreams, you know? It feels like I’m one of Father’s falcons, soaring high in the skies. Father says I have the gift to turn into one of them at night and watch over the desert,” he glanced up, his eyes gleaming in wonder.

Jacaerys looked at the boy and allowed himself to smile, as Farien somehow reminded him of his younger brother, Joffrey, whom he hadn't seen in a long time.

“Anyway,” Farien continued, “I think we could be brothers, you and I. We even look alike, see?” He pointed at Jacaerys’ curls. “It would be nice to have another brother... because, well, Elyas... he’s nice, sometimes. But not always.”

Jacaerys held back a scoff, figuring as much.

“And what about your sister?”

“We like sneaking sweets from the kitchens and feeding them to the horses,” Farien’s eyes suddenly lit up. “And she loves fighting, too. But not the angry, shouting kind, no. She says that sometimes, fighting feels like dancing, and that’s why she enjoys it. She’s really good at it. And I think you are too. But my sister is better.”

Just as he was about to ask Farien what other things his sister enjoyed, one of the little boy’s servants approached them.

“My Prince, your father has sent me to take you back to your chambers to rest,” she smiled at the little boy, who had no choice but to accept dejectedly.

As the servant took him in her arms, Farien waved at Jacaerys with a small smile. He nodded at the little boy, unable to stop himself from smiling back.

“At least the little one is not as irritating as the rest of his family,” Rhaenyra said as her gaze softened, noticing how the little boy never tore his eyes from them as he got further and further.

“Give him a couple of years. He will turn out exactly like his older brother,” Daemon muttered.

Then, Jacaerys' gaze trailed back to the Princess once again, who was still locked in a dance with Lord Ander. The exchange of whispers seemed to grow more intense, as his lips lingered on the shell of her ear, making her nod as her smile never left her lips.

“Jacaerys,” Daemon’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you not have a duty to fulfil?”

“I have been fulfilling them since the moment we arrived,” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As Jacaerys had been doing everything he could to uphold his duties, Daemon merely sat back, watching the spectacle he had set in motion unravel before him.

“You have, but sitting and watching the Princess be courted by every lord in Dorne is not one of them. Listen to me, these men are doing everything in their power to pull her away from our alliance since they can see she does not favour you,” he paused leaning in closer. “You are no stranger to this. If you two are to rule the Seven Kingdoms, she needs to be seen by your side.”

Jacaerys rose from his seat as he exhaled, growing frustrated by the second. It was all in the name of duty, after all. He headed towards the Princess with steady steps, disappearing into the crowd and dodging every drunken lord and lady that stood in his way. Lord Ander, who seemed to have more intentions than just dancing with the Princess, held her close, too close, his hands lingering on her waist.

“My Lord,” Jacaerys cleared his throat, barely containing himself. Lord Ander snapped his head towards his direction. “I would hate to interrupt your conversation, but the hour is quite late, and Princess Y/n needs to rest.”

“Is that so?” He pulled Y/n even closer to him, making Jacaerys’ blood boil. “How come the Princess seems to be enjoying herself?”

Jacaerys’ eyes flicked to the cup in her hand, the liquid threatening to spill from the rim. He wasn’t a stranger to that dazed look and that loose smirk playing on her lips.

“The Princess seems to have indulged in one too many cups. You may continue whatever… conversation you were having on the morrow, my Lord,” Jacaerys forced his words through his teeth.

“Is that an order from the Crown Prince? Or from a boy who is still learning how to hold a woman’s interest?” Lord Ander raised a brow, sliding his hand even lower on her waist.

The Princess’ gaze flicked between the two men, unaware of the escalating tension. She took another sip from her cup, her eyes landing on Jacaerys, finally acknowledging how dashing he looked in a Dornish ensemble of deep blues and golds.

“Gods, spare me,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You two sound like you’re ready to start another war.”

“If it means winning your favour, Princess,” Lord Ander said with a grin.

“Mayhaps that's a battle for another day. Besides, the Prince is right, the hour is quite late,” she said softly, growing tired at the show of bravado between the two men. She moved away from Lord Ander and took a step towards Jacaerys.

Jacaerys, whose heart was pounding with both anger and relief, offered her his arm. Y/n would’ve hesitated at first, but under the effects of wine, any qualms were long gone. She noted how he tensed his arm uncomfortably, unaware that she was putting pressure on the wound she had given him not too long ago.

Casymir leaned against one of the pillars with a hint of amusement on his face, watching the whole scene unfold before his eyes. Once Jacaerys and Y/n were away from the crowd, he finally pushed himself off the pillar, approaching Jacaerys, who was struggling to keep her in place.

“Allow me, my Prince. The Princess is in good hands with me,” he said, extending his arm.

Jacaerys glared at Casymir as he adjusted her weight in his arm, wondering what he was smiling for.

“You are the Princess’ sworn protector, are you not?” He raised his brow.

“Yes, my Prince,” he smiled proudly.

“Yet all you did was stand and watch how the Princess wandered into the clutches of men with less than noble intentions,” Jacaerys tried to keep his composure, though his anger simmered beneath the surface.

“Do you question my service to the Princess, my Prince?” He chuckled, brushing the Prince’s concerns aside. “The Princess was in no immediate danger. And as far as I’m aware, a dance with a lord hardly constitutes a threat.”

“If you think a man whose ulterior motives are clearly written in his face not to be dangerous, then mayhaps we have very different understandings of the word danger,” Jacaerys said.

“You greatly misunderstand the Princess. Lord Ander was eager, but he knew better than to cross the line. And besides, she would’ve ended his attempts long before you stepped in. As you might have already… experienced, the Princess knows how to handle herself and hardly needs to be coddled,” his blue eyes trailed at the way their arms were intertwined. “Though, it seems she doesn’t mind letting you try.”

“So, what are you here for, then? Just for decoration?”

“Is picking fights with other men a favourite pastime of yours, my Prince?” The Princess laughed, poking fun at Jacaerys as she unconsciously tightened her grip around his injured arm. “You do seem to have a talent for making enemies wherever you go.”

Jacaerys hesitated, unsure if replying to the Princess was even worth the efforts given her current state, so he merely scoffed, shaking his head in defeat. However, one thing he couldn’t ignore was the feeling of having her so close as she mindlessly ran her hand up and down the length of his arm. He tried to calm his heart, but he couldn’t keep his composure with each stroke of her fingers that made him lean into her touch ever so slightly.

Once they reached the Princess’ chambers, Casymir leaned on the door, his arms crossed with an infuriatingly calm expression on his face.

“If you wish to be escorted back to your chambers, my Prince, I can call for a servant,” Casymir offered, implying that Jacaerys had overstayed his welcome.

“No. I wish to stay. The Princess and I have a few words to exchange,” he said.

“I’ll be fine, Cas,” the Princess slurred, assuring her sworn protector with a slow nod.

“As you wish, my Princess. I'll be just outside, should you require any assistance.”

Jacaerys stood by the door, unsure of what to do now that he was inside the Princess’ chambers. It wasn’t improper of him, as her soon-to-be husband, to be seen there, so he found himself leaning against the wall, trying to regain the composure that he had repeatedly lost throughout the night. His eyes trailed around the intricately carved golden statues that adorned the corners and the colourful tapestries that swayed slightly, catching the faint breeze that slipped through the windows and bringing with it the distant murmurs of the ongoing celebration.

Only when he heard a soft clink and the steady stream of wine being poured into a cup, he snapped out of his thoughts. Before he could even think, he turned to Y/n, walking towards her and snatching the cup and jug from her hands, causing her mouth to hang open in disbelief and indignation.

“You will not drink any more tonight,” he ordered, pouring the liquid out of the window and slamming the cup aside.

“Well, isn’t this absolutely perfect?” She spat, throwing her arms in the air in defeat. “Not only will you take away my freedom, but now you wish to take away one of the few things that bring me joy?”

“You must live a very miserable life, Princess, if wine and men are the few things in life that bring you joy,” Jacaerys burst out, no longer able to contain the pent-up anger that had been brewing all night.

“Oh, believe me, I’ll have a miserable life once I marry you.”

“And what makes you think I want to marry you? That behaviour of yours… is unacceptable,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I do not wish to marry someone who is a slave to their desires.”

“A slave to my desires? Is that what you think of me?” Y/n shouted, unable to control the fury taking over her voice.

“What else am I supposed to think when you go from lord to lord like a marionette whose strings had been cut?” He paused, taking in her dishevelled appearance. “I was not aware how these Dornishmen could name someone so ruthless and so debauched as their Princess.”

“And I didn’t know you Targaryens go around crowning bastards just to keep your house on the Throne,” she spat, making sure to rest her gaze on his dark eyes and on his brown locks long enough.

“You whore–!”

Before Jacaerys could finish his sentence, Y/n's palm collided with his cheek in a stinging slap, his head snapping to the side. His eyes widened, more in shock than pain, as his hand instinctively rose to the reddening mark on his face.

“A whore? A savage? A goatfucker?” Y/n's voice trembled with fury. “Is that all you see me as?” She shoved him hard, sending him stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. Her finger jabbed into his chest with every word. “You,” she spat, “should be thanking me for getting my hands dirty, persuading those lords to join your petty war!”

Jacaerys was stunned into silence momentarily, feeling every ounce of her rage bleeding through her words.

“And who told you to do that on your own?” Jacaerys shot back. “You could have asked me, we could have gone together and spoken to them like it is expected of us!”

“You overestimate yourself,” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you even know what those lords think of you? Of your family? If it weren’t for our betrothal, they would have driven a spear through your chests without a second thought. Because to them, you Targaryens are nothing but bloodthirsty murderers who’ve come to take our lands all over again.”

“Enough!” Jacaerys grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her, slamming her against the wall. “You think I do not know that? You think I do not feel it every time I step into a room? The way they look at me? At my family? You think I enjoy being the enemy?” He seethed, feeling his throat grow raw with each word. “Gods, you are infuriating,” he grunted, realising how close their faces were to one another.

The Princess’ lips curled into a smirk, a flicker of satisfaction lingering in her eyes. She had struck a nerve, realising how Jacaerys was always quick to react to whatever blasphemous speech she had to say about his family, and once again, she had managed to unleash the dormant wrath that blinded his actions.

As the Princess found herself cornered between his arms and the wall, she crouched low, slipping beneath his arms in a fluid motion and spinning around to pin Jacaerys against the wall, pressing her chest to his back. Jacaerys reacted instinctively, kicking off the wall to shove her back. The sudden force sent her stumbling as she crashed on the ground, and he followed, landing on top of her in a tangle of limbs.

Just as he was about to stand up, Y/n yanked him back down and rolled on top of him, keeping him in place by locking her thighs around his waist and pinning his arms on the floor with one swift movement. Truth be told, Jacaerys could have easily pushed her away as her usual strength was halved by the wine; yet he remained still, feeling the warmth of Y/n’s body pressed into his, and how their faces were inches apart yet again, her breath hot on his skin.

Once again, he found himself under her mercy.

She stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and lips slightly open as she breathed lightly, taking in the sight of Jacaerys’ flushed face and his gaze clouded by desire. Jacaerys looked up at her and gulped, feeling his erection stirring uncomfortably beneath his breeches.

His eyes locked onto her plump lips and trailed towards to the hollow of her neck, down to her chest. He stared hungrily as she leaned towards him, his fingertips itching to explore the skin hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. As she got closer and closer to his face, Jacaerys’ breath hitched, and without realising it, his lips parted slightly as his eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. His pulse quickened, waiting for the warmth of her lips pressing against his.

But instead of the kiss he craved, he felt the hot caress of her breath graze the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Her voice, low and smooth, held him captive with each honeyed word.

“If you want to win this little war of yours, you better start by respecting me,” she whispered as she let go of one of his wrists and began tracing delicate patterns with her finger. “Just because I’ve chosen you as my betrothed doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind,” she bucked her hips against his hardened cock, causing Jacaerys to groan at the sudden spark of pleasure coursing in his veins.

In that very moment, Y/n had uncovered yet another emotion—the primal desire that, despite her infuriating attitude, she had managed to set ablaze. If Jacaerys had to ask himself how it happened, he wouldn’t know where to begin answering. Had it all started when they first met, when she held little regard for him? Was it in the arena, when she brazenly humiliated him in front of everyone? Or was it the fact that they always seemed to find themselves pointing a blade at each other’s throats? Behind all that anger and hatred, and the prejudice that blinded him from seeing the Princess as she truly was, lay a spark of curiosity. Something he knew that once he began to explore, that spark would turn into wildfire.

With each passing second, he fought against the temptation to place his hands on the curve of her hips and make her grind herself against his cock.

“Remember, my Prince,” she purred in his ear, bucking her hips once again. “The wedding has not taken place yet, and anything could happen.”

A/N: For some reason, i keep beating my wordcount record. istg my fanfic wc is way bigger than all of my uni papers combined, and bare in mind i was a humanities student lmfaooo.

anyway, i feel like this chapter was a mess. jace's patience continuously getting tested by everyone, and our reader making things even harder for him. i actually feel sorry for those two but the way they are handling things is not very demure, mindful or cutesy. we got the exact opposite.

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a (continued in comments)

#dragonspear #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace x you #jace x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house martell #oc x reader #oc x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x you smut

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domesticandlovingmonsters · 3 months ago

Text

Eldridge/Tentacle Monster x F!Reader

Words: 2.9k Themes: Nsfw, tentacles, fictional oviposition Notes: Hi all! I'm still very sick, hence why this story is a little shorter than the others. Hopefully it's still a good morsel of ovi themes. I may circle around to it again and adjust it, or write a whole other story based on ovi to make up for the lack of words. Feedback as always is welcome!!

This was definitely the spot from your dream.

The cave opening matched your memories perfectly. To the circular entrance, draped in vines that dripped with clear water from the waterfall nearby, to the moss that covered every inch of this place.

The hike had been tortuous, to say the least. But seeing this cave made it all worthwhile. You weren’t going mad, after all.

You didn’t understand how you knew this was here. Perhaps some past hike through these old woods came to the surface of your subconscious and reminded you of this splendid place. It was beautiful. How could you have forgotten it? Your steps into the cave felt familiar and comfortable. Your shoes didn’t slip on the uneven path nor did the low hanging ceiling bump against your head as you ventured deeper.

You could hear the gentle trickling of water somewhere further. A soft echo that seemed to call you forward and away from the light of the beautiful day outside. You recalled there was more light inside.

Not that you could remember how there was more light. But the memory of being able to see clearly down here was vivid enough to ease any worries of darkness. Deeper and deeper you went. The afterthought of getting lost down here vanished when you found a path, winding down the treacherous tumbling's of rocks and subterranean flora. You found a stream bounding down a slope of dark rocks. Your fingers idly trailed along the smooth cut stone that acted as stairs towards the heart of this cave. You didn’t slip. Nor did you feel any nervousness when a sound rose up through the music of running water. A whispering murmur that called to you.

Almost there. It seemed to say.

A friend.

Your friend. The one from your dreams that spoke of itself and the sweet home it made for itself down here. Surrounded by soft moss and cool water. Comforted by the comes and goings of eager hikers that walked these trails. Listening to the world's gossip and excitement while happily residing in the depths of the mountain. Unseen and undisturbed.

But it called to you nonetheless. And you came just as you promised; a friend coming to visit a friend. The stream brought you to a wide cavern. With a pool in the center and many small plants circling the crystalline water. The lights you were promised dangled from thin, pale vines that spiderwebbed along the sloped ceiling. Giving the wide cave a gentle blue glow as you stepped towards the water.

You felt parched after such a hike. And the water felt cool against your fingers as you kneeled down beside it and cupped some into your mouth.

It tasted sweet. Almost like honey. And you sighed as the discomfort of your hike started to ease. The murmuring echoed through the cave and you sat yourself on a nearby rock. Slipping off your backpack as you looked out over the pool.

Many eyes watched you, pale and completely pupilless, locked on you from a mound of mossy bark and fern covered limbs.

It was huge. The presence you have felt for so many nights felt like a crushing weight now as your friend started to move closer. The water barely stirred as thick appendages rose from the calm waters and slithered along the ground towards you.

You smiled. Reaching for a tentacle as it coiled along your calf and bathed your warm skin with its cool flesh. You wore shorts today, given the heat of the day, and your friend seemed thrilled with how much skin was currently exposed. The murmuring turned to whispers. Eager with anticipation. You felt a wordless voice enter your mind as the creature walked out of the pool on thick, muscular legs. They looked like trunks of trees, covered in more of that mossy bark like skin. You tilted your head up as a tentacle brushed along your chest, circling your neck for but a second before retreating. Wherever your friend touched, a comforting cooling sensation followed. And after your walk up the side of the mountain it was a very welcoming change.

That presence bloomed in your mind and your smile turned sheepish as a thinner tentacle slipped under your shirt and petted along your bare chest. You felt a curiosity grow through you. Not yours, but theirs.

You couldn’t hide how warmed the smooth, velvety appendage made you feel. One of the thicker tentacles was resting between your legs. Nestling between your thighs as the others gently greeted and stroked you.

And the creature breathed an amused sound into the cave as it felt your hips twitch. And you stifled a groan when you felt the muscle tense against you, causing friction.

Clothes fell to the mossy floor in a messy pile. The tentacles were careful but impatient as they removed each piece of material from your body. Those many eyes drank in every inch of newly exposed skin and a heated kernal of need rose up within you.

You gasped as the vision vanished. A tender tip of the creature’s arms stroked along your cheek, comforting and reassuring. Asking quiet permission as your friend drew back; waiting. You nodded, smiling. That’s why you came here after all. Visiting a friend who needed company more intimately than passing gossipers.

And just like the vision, your clothes fell from your body in fluid, practiced motions. A familiar scene started to open up in front of you as your friend’s arms coiled beneath you and lifted you off the hard stone. They moved you to a more open space in the cave and you were laid down in a nest of soft moss and fern leaves. The glowing vines twisted and knotted between the crags of your bed, illuminating your friend as they settled before you. Their tentacles snaked over the edge of the nest to begin tangling between your limbs.

The thickest of them all wrapped around your calves and gently spread your legs apart. You moaned as the tip of the appendage curled over your waist and slid between your folds. Clear liquid pooled from the tip and your hips pushed up into the rounded end as they started to fondle you. How many nights did you and them fool around in your dream? Exactly like this? Pulled to you by their need and your loneliness, your once uneventful nights were soon full of tangled limbs and visions of pleasure.

You would wake up panting and soaked, both in sweat and with arousal. Lost in the fog of the dream and coming back to reality.

But here, now with your friend as they loomed over you, your legs spread and pushed up around your head as a tentacle prodded and rimmed your hole, you felt a wave of excitement come over you.

Tangling with your heated anticipation as the tip against you pushed and your walls gave entry. It felt like a great relief washed over you as they pushed deeper. The discomfort that has plagued you for days was finally relieved and you went limp against the nest as your body gave an involuntary twitch from the sweetened touch. Your friend must have felt the same because the slow rhythm rubbing along your slit faltered.

Your mind fogged with a layer of desire and joy as more limbs petted down the back of your thighs and started to grope and fondle you. Twisting and touching along your bare chest as your back arched into the tangle of arms.

You gasped, mouth hanging open as your walls were stretched. Their murmuring was gentle and reassuring. A soothing contrast to the waves upon waves of eager anticipation that radiated from them. Then the tip pushed deeper and you felt your walls welcome them. And you accepted the intrusion with a heavy moan.

They shivered above you. You felt the heat of your body burn against their cool skin and they enjoyed it. Loved how your hole so eagerly spread for them and how deep they started to go.

Inch by careful inch, your friend filled you until your eyes squeezed shut and an uncomfortable tension pushed at your stomach. They halted, and a tender touch brushed along your cheek again; reassuring and comforting.

They didn’t mean to push so hard. But your body felt so good, so soft and warm that they wanted to stay there forever.

You relaxed after the thick limb began to pull out. But it was so slow it was torture, your moan lowered into a whine.

They stalled. Those many eyes watching you as you reached down and ran your fingers along their tentacles. Giving attention to the entanglement of limbs that snaked and petted along your waist and chest. You were almost entirely swallowed by them that you could barely move without them allowing you too.

You felt small bumps and ridges slide along your palm. Your fingers were left slimy with the substance that oozed from the tip of their appendages.

Curiously, you brought your fingers to your mouth and gave them a small lick. Just like the pool, the liquid was cool and sweet on your tongue. Like honey. Your friend purred as you stuck two fingers between your lips. And before you could react, a small tentacle wrapped around your wrist and tugged your hand away.

Your lips were immediately filled with another thick tendril and you felt the tip hit the back of your throat.

Your eyes bulged and you gagged as a small drop of the liquid slid down your throat. A worrying whisper tickled your mind. A question, as the limb between your lips started to retreat. You hummed and relaxed your mouth, giving silent permission to continue.

Pleased, your friend pushed further and your eyes watered at the intrusion. But you licked at the velvety underside of the limb. Moaning softly as you tasted that sweet nectar which began to trickle into your mouth. Your friend then started to continue to pull out of you. You whined again but they slowly slid from your hole, leaving only the tip, before slamming back into you with enough force that your body rocked and your eyes widened in surprise. Whatever noise of complaint you tried to voice died very quickly as a pace was established. Rough and fast, feverish almost, as your friend purred above you. Your hips were lifted off the ground, angled in a way that folded you in half and your legs were spread wide and near your shoulders.

Your chest was rubbed and squeezed, your peaked nipples teased by pillowy suction cups on the smallest limbs. Liquid pooling from the coils wrapped around you to ensure there was no restriction to the way they moved.

Your lips were assaulted by the tentacle in your mouth, which coiled and rubbed along your tongue like a cold version of your own. Your friend shifted closer. Entirely enveloping you with their tentacles as they pulled you against their body.

You felt yourself being lifted and pressed against their underside as if they wanted to feel you squirm and writhed against them.

Your eyes closed as you lost yourself to the blinding pleasure. Your walls were stretched and you felt them knock against the deepest part of you, your womb near buckling under the onslaught of thrusts.

The whispering voice transformed into a whining growl that grated your ears. Somehow you knew the harsh sound was your friend’s moaning as they sprawled themselves over the nest. Crushing you against the soft floor as their body started to rut and flood your exposed body with that sweet cooling liquid. You could feel your climax coming forth. Fighting the cool touch of your friend was a racing wildfire beneath your skin, ready to burst when their tip found something sensitive within you. A bundle of nerves that had you thrashing against your cocoon of petting limbs.

Your friend cooed softly and your body was suddenly made empty as the tentacle slid out of you. You cried out. Your frustration was muffled by the thick tongue like limb that you were currently sucking on.

Amusement flooded your thoughts. And a feeling of patience trickled into your hazy mind. You pushed against it, harshly sucking on the tentacle in your mouth as if you could coax your friend to reconsider.

But instead of filling you again, your friend moved so all you could see was their underside. The wrappings of muscled limbs left you. You gasped and licked your lips as the tongue left you as well.

Above you, your friend’s underside was like a shelled belly. Beautiful with intricate brown lines and plates of green; you would have admired them more if your body wasn’t currently screaming at the lack of touch and stimulation. Your friend twitched above you and from a slit between the two back legs, something pushed between the thick shell like plating. As red as candy and thicker than any of the limbs that had previously been buried inside you, your friend’s cock left its protective sheath and started to lower towards your spread thighs.

The head of the length was flared and rounded nubs circled the wide tip. You licked your lips again. Your body clenching in anticipation and worry as the girth tilted, as if flexible like the tentacles before, and brushed over your sensitive clit.

You groaned and spread yourself wider. Even going as far as sliding your hands down to your hole and moving your folds so their cock didn’t tug on anything.

Appreciation melted into your mind and you relaxed against the nest as your friend’s hips dipped lower and the flared head disappeared between your thighs. You felt the cool soft tip press against your entrance and you tried hard not to tense as they started to push into you.

You gasped as your walls were stretched to their limit. Comforting murmurs filled your mind as you squeezed your eyes shut against the discomfort.

But that’s all there was. No pain, just a slight discomfort as your body adjusted to this new girth. You clung to the body that was inches above you. Holding onto your friend as they tenderly thrusted into you.

Their clawed hands tore into the nest as they forced themselves to go slow. The images of their cock ravaging you, filling you with every inch of them to claim you; fluttered through your mind before they were snatched away by their self-control.

Finally, you felt the flared head reach your womb and you were sure you felt the rounded nubs move and press against your walls. Like they were making a barrier against your cervix.

They then started to move. Your back immediately arched as pleasure burst through your center. You cried out, gasping as your body was rocked again and again by your friend’s eager rutting. They could barely move inside you. The locked position of the flared head felt like a knot deep inside you, keeping you both firmly together.

But still your friend desperately chased the pleasure they had to previously pause to properly enter you.

And just as you started to adjust to the heavy sensation in your stomach, your friend shivered above you and the base of their cock bulged as something slid down the long length.

You gasped, watching the egg roll down the thick length and your walls squeezed tightly around the new intrusion. Your friend thrusted harder than before. Pushing the rounded shaft deeper, forcing your walls to spread around it.

Your head rolled back as it popped inside and you groaned disgustingly loud as it settled deep within you. A heavy, warm bubble of liquid that rounded your stomach and jostled with every thrust from your friend.

They growled above you as another egg left them and you grabbed the trunk like leg to brace yourself as the bulging intrusion rested against the first. You reached down and started to rub your untouched clit. Sliding your fingers between your folds, wetting them on the cool liquid that your friend poured from their cock. You felt the hard lump where a third egg was currently flush against your body, begging entrance as your friend purred above you. You circled your clit, rolling your hips in time with your friend’s thrust until pleasure exploded forth. Your climax was what they needed to get the third egg into you. Your spasming walls and jerking hips gave them enough leverage to slide their third egg into your waiting pussy.

The purring increased until it was all you heard. Their cock twitched and you felt some sort of thicker liquid pool from between your legs.

In your blind chase for pleasure, you didn’t realize the stimulation you were giving your friend. And your fall into bliss dragged them down with you, spilling their pleasure into your swollen hole.

They didn’t move from their position above you. Still locked together, your friend murmured sweet whispers into your mind as you both caught your breath.

White hot bliss sparked from your body with every lazy roll of their hips. You couldn’t recall how much time you laid there beneath them. Writhing and moaning, lost in an overstimulated fog of pleasure and bliss. Sometime during this hazy moment, your friend finally pulled out of you. You barely felt the shift between your legs, still snugly swollen with eggs.

You fell asleep not long after that. Finally coaxed into rest by your friend’s nuzzling touches. Their limbs massaged along your arms and stomach, as if soothing you into finally sleeping.

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yanderecrazysie · 2 months ago

Note

For the reader rejecting her soulmate by hiding the fact that they're soulmates drabble, can we get that with Gojo Satoru?

Coming from clan of sorcerers and being one of the most promising heirs, reader was hoping that her soulmate was just a regular human being so that she could have a reason to abandon the Jujutsu world and live a normal life. But unfortunately for her, her wishes were granted backwards. So backwards that she got someone from a prominent clan who also happened to be the strongest sorcerer known to man. Not wanting to deal what fate has given her, she hid her true mark made up a fake one and informed her clan she's leaving to keep her "soulmate" safe. They were disappointed but accepted none the less, and just like that she left for a normal life.

Despite thinking she avoided fate, what she doesn't know is that a simple faking of a mark does not sever a soulmates' connection. Especially when fate has forcibly involved her with someone like Gojo.

I love this and I love you for coming up with it. NGL I was influenced by the amazing @envy-of-the-apple and the INCREDIBLE Gojo fics they've made. Don't get your hopes up for this story, it's not nearly as good as theirs LOL

Title: I Don’t Want Love

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, swearing, violence, implied murder

“If I leave before you

And I walk out alone

Keep your hands to yourself

When you follow me home

I don't want love

I don't want love”

-From “I Don’t Want Love” by The Antlers

You would turn eighteen at exactly 1 am, on the dot. You had set up a mirror on your bed, aimed straight at your upper arms.

12 seconds to go…

You wondered which arm it would appear on. That isn’t what really mattered, of course.

7 seconds…

You wondered if you could tell if the person was average or ordinary by just the symbol alone.

3…

2…

1…

The silence in your room suffocated you. Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach.

It looked like a hand with the index and middle finger twisted together. You knew that symbol. You’d seen it every damn day.

Gojo Satoru. Your soulmate was Gojo Satoru.

The weight of your fate crushed you. This was even worse than the outcome you had feared the most. You had prayed for an ordinary person, someone who could whisk you away from this world of curses and responsibilities. You just wanted someone who could offer you the normal life you so desperately craved.

Instead, fate had bound you to the most powerful sorcerer alive, a man whose very existence was a magnet for danger and chaos. A man who would never, ever live an ordinary life.

“No fucking way…” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head frantically as though you could just simply deny what was seared into your right shoulder. You couldn’t accept this. You wouldn’t accept this.

You knew what you had to do. Your clan was skilled in concealment techniques and, with a bit of effort, you covered the mark on your right shoulder, and created a false mark on your left. It was a simple sun, unremarkable in every way. The perfect lie you could craft to fool your family, the world, and maybe even yourself.

The symbol could belong to anyone. Anyone but Gojo Satoru, who had been showing off his mark since his 18th birthday last year.

When the next morning came, your parents’ faces fell at the sight of the ordinary sun on your left shoulder.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d get a powerful sorcerer,” your mother had never sounded more disappointed, “Someone like that nice Satoru boy.” You hid a wince.

Your father crossed his arms, “Are you sure you want to leave our world behind for some ordinary man?”

You shrugged, acting like the decision was out of your hands. “I can’t drag an ordinary person who can’t even see curses into our world,” you replied.

Your parents agreed and, without much more resistance, you headed out to a world where everyone was oblivious to the existence of curses.

A world you had always wanted to be a part of.

—-----------------------------------------------------

1 am on the dot for Gojo Satoru was like waking up in a bath filled with ice cubes. He shot out of his bed, panting and ready to fight whatever curse had found its way into his room. Then, he felt a warmth spreading over his soulmate’s mark and he relaxed, a smile playing across his face.

His soulmate had reached her 18th birthday!

Gojo’s smile widened as he pulled up his sleeve and studied the mark on his arm, the intertwined fingers that must match yours. For months, he had anticipated this moment- the day his soulmate would finally know of their connection!

Then, a strange, muted feeling. As if all of the warmth had been sucked out of him and his senses had been dulled. His smile sank into a frown.

His soulmate was attempting to hide their bond.

He was no stranger to concealment techniques- he was a sorcerer of unparalleled strength. But why would his beloved soulmate try to hide her mark?

It bothered him, but also piqued his curiosity. You must know who he was (everyone did), so why were you trying to hide from him?

Gojo’s frown deepened as the muted sensations got stronger. His soulmate was actively hiding from him. He couldn’t help but wonder, irritation spiking, why you would go to such lengths.

This wasn’t some simple concealment- you were rejecting the bond itself. And how dare you? He was the strongest sorcerer alive, you should be goddamned proud to be his soulmate!

He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He’d wait until the morning and find out whose birthday it was. Then, he’d approach you and figure out what you were playing at.

—------------------------------------------------------

One month had passed since your birthday, and you had already gotten yourself a job as a receptionist at a law firm. Your parents’ money would buy you an apartment for a few months, but you’d be expected to take care of yourself after that.

One of the lawyers, a tall, handsome man named Akira, was always stopping by your desk, flirting casually with you. You encouraged it full-heartedly. He was handsome, kind, intelligent and best of all…

He was normal.

Akira smiled as he stopped by your desk for the third time that day, “So, I was wondering-”

Briiiiing

“Sorry, hold that thought,” you winked up at him, picking up the desk phone, “Thank you for calling Hashimoto Law Firm, my name is (Y/n), how may I assist you today?”

There was no response, except for heavy breathing. Unnerved, you tried again, “Thank you for calling, how may I assist you?”

More heavy breathing followed and you gave it one last shot, “If you are speaking, I’m unable to hear you. Please call back again if you are in need of our services.”

You hung up, heart pounding for a reason you couldn’t place. Your right shoulder began to burn and your heart just about stopped altogether.

“What’s the matter?” Akira asked, concern in his voice.

You straightened up, avoiding his gaze, “Just a prank call.”

Akira took the answer with a nod, still looking concerned for you, “Don’t take prank calls too seriously. It’s usually just a kid on the other line.”

You swallowed thickly- you had a feeling you knew exactly who was on the other line.

Akira looked up at the clock, “Ah, it’s time to clock out for the day.” You followed his gaze and your stomach twisted unpleasantly.

“Will you walk me home?” you blurted out.

Akira’s eyebrow raised, “Did that prank call spook you that badly?”

“I’m worried it may be my ex,” you lied, “And if he knows where I work, he could be waiting outside for me.”

Akira smiled and offered you his hand, “No ex-boyfriend will get anywhere near you if I have anything to do with it.”

You smiled back.

The walk to your apartment had your heart pounding in your chest and your hands shaking. Akira’s larger, warmer hand slipped into yours and you squeezed it for reassurance.

You were nearly to your apartment complex when Akira whispered, “Someone’s following us.”

You realized there were not two but three pairs of footsteps walking down this street. You didn’t need to look back to know who it was- the burning on your right shoulder told you all you needed to know.

“You keep going, I’ll tell him off,” Akira said.

You wanted to tell him to stay with you, to not risk his life over you. You wanted to tell him that the person he was going to face was infinitely stronger than him.

But you were selfish.

As soon as Akira turned around, you broke into a run. You heard the man make a confused sound, as though he had tried to punch air (or, more likely, infinity) and then a bloodcurdling scream cut off by the pained, guttural noise of someone being punched so hard that their organs were being ruptured.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad, maybe that was your imagination running wild, but you didn’t turn around to see if you were right. Each time you heard that fleshy sound of a fist caving in someone’s chest, you just ran faster.

As soon as you had reached your apartment, you bolted the apartment door shut, grabbed your suitcase, and began stuffing things inside with trembling hands.

Akira was most likely dead and all you could think about was how you had to change jobs and move right away. Were you heartless?

Maybe. But your soulmate mark wasn’t burning anymore and that was all that mattered.

—----------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you arrived at the law firm, ready to quit. You walked inside and found your boss already waiting for you. “Have you seen Akira? He was meant to be here an hour ago?”

“I haven’t,” you murmured, “Look, I have to quit-”

The door opened behind you and you spun around, hoping it was Akira, safe and sound. Instead, you were met with the sight you wanted to see least.

A tall man with white hair and a blindfold around his eyes. Gojo Satoru in the flesh.

“Oh, Mr. Gojo! Yes, you must be! Ah, why don’t you take that thing off your face?” your boss was quick to welcome the man, “Take a seat, (Y/n), you can take notes for us since Akira’s slept in.”

You remained standing, frozen in place as Gojo walked by you. Your soulmate was scalding hot, burning your skin so hotly that you let out a small hiss of pain.

“I’ll keep this on, if you don’t mind,” Gojo said, his voice carefree, “Now, about what we talked about yesterday…”

You began to inch towards the door.

“(Y/n), please take notes,” your boss said sternly. You jumped at the sharp tone of voice and found yourself helplessly obeying.

I need to quit. I need to leave!

Your thoughts didn’t match your actions. All you could do was hope that Gojo didn’t feel anything on his soulmate mark.

“So, Mr. Gojo, I understand you wanted to start a legal case about securing your soulmate?” your boss asked.

All of the blood drained from your face.

“Yes,” you couldn’t see Gojo’s stunning blue eyes but you knew they were looking directly at you, “You see, she’s a shy one. But, legally, I own her since she’s my soulmate. And she owns me, of course, too, but she’s not the one filing for an arranged marriage here.”

The two men shared a laugh as you began to feel faint. Unsteadily, you wobbled for a moment, before you collapsed to the floor.

“(Y/n)?” your boss stood up, surprised, “Should I call for medical attention?”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Gojo said, reaching out for you with a vicious grin.

“You see, I know just what she needs.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere gojo #gojo satoru #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen

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heavenlyraindrops · 4 months ago

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“ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | { ɪ }

☆ Warnings: profanity, sports!photographer!reader, fem!reader, afab!reader, for future chapters: social media au, eventual smut

☆ 1.3k words | Available on: Tumblr, AO3

A career in sports photography was never something your parents wanted for you- they had decided your career path since the moment you were born. A surgeon. Bound to make them plenty of money, to make them proud. They wanted it more than anything else, and…

You decided that wasn’t your problem.

You researched the job, the career path, and began building a portfolio. Taking pictures of athletes at games, major ones and others such as college games. Mostly baseball. In fact, it was almost all baseball.

Oh. College games. Baseball.

You’d attended college in the States, attending the baseball games and snapping pictures. And, for some reason, you seemed to gravitate towards one specific player.

You had no idea what his name was.

You didn’t share any classes. You saw him around campus occasionally, but you weren’t one for parties so you had no chance of running into him at one of those. Your circles barely even touched. You didn’t know each other at all.

Correction: he didn’t know you at all, and you only knew him as the hot athlete guy you took pictures of.

“Another one?” Your friend, Taika grumbled, another one of your posts coming up on her feed. “[name], this is the fifteenth time you’ve posted this guy.”

You rolled your eyes, laptop balanced on your thigh as you edited a picture. “I’m just building my portfolio.”

“No one’s gonna hire you if your portfolio is just a million pictures of the same guy.”

“It’s not, there’s other pictures too.”

“Yeah, like, two.”

“Hyperbole much?”

Taika sighed aggressively, setting her phone-face down next to her as she leaned forward, face turning serious. “[name], is this some weird fetish? Kink?”

“What?” You almost threw your laptop at her. “You’re so dramatic. Obviously it’s not. What kind of kink would that even be?”

“Just admit you think he’s hot.”

You pressed your lips together, slamming your laptop shut. “Okay, get out.”

“But-!”

“Out!”

And that was that. You kept taking pictures of Mysterious Hot Athlete Guy,, eventually veering away from him in the end to expand your name. Your portfolio grew, you gained jobs, and your parents got increasingly frustrated until the point where they threatened to cut contact with you.

You didn’t care. This was your passion. You’d much rather be on a pitch, capturing the essence of exhausted yet still exhilarated camaraderie than in a sterile surgeon’s scrub, brandishing a scalpel, cutting into flesh to expose your patients innards.

Unfortunately they went through with the threat. Oh well.

With the little savings you had, the weight of college debt for a degree you’d never use on your shoulders and your rather expensive camera equipment for which you’d somehow managed to scrape together the money for, you decided to follow Taika back to Japan.

“There’s plenty of opportunities for you there,” she told you.

Taika, being a trust fund baby, had more than enough of her parents' money to support herself, and you in Japan. You slowly grew your career and by a couple of months, you could afford to move into your own apartment.

And now you were a- somewhat-well known sports photographer in the industry, despite never actually having a stable job, and… that was that.

That was your story.

But not the end of it.

Because after a good few months deep into your path of sports photography, a baseball player rose to stardom.

Kenji Sato.

“Oh my god!” Taika grabbed onto your arm, nails digging into your skin and making you yelp as she thrust the phone in your face. “Dude! That’s the guy you had a crush on in college!”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and your voice was grating. “I didn’t have a crush on him.”

He just had a nice… bone structure.

Maybe I should have taken pictures of models for magazines or something.

You looked at the article. Newest player on the field sparks talk of the rise of a new baseball legend.

Oh damn. Maybe he should have been a model.

“Kenji Sato,” Taika read out the name. “Dude, I swear this is the guy.” Pulling up your instagram account, she scrolled all the way to the bottom, at your earlier days of shooting. “Dude. That’s him.”

“It’s him,” you said weakly. She grinned at you, a knowing smirk that made you want to tear her hair out.

Another stretch of time passed, until the days where your life was immediately thrust into a direction it did not give consent into going.

Firstly, Ken Sato made headlines by coming back to Japan. Secondly, you’d landed a job at a baseball game in the Tokyo Dome. Thirdly, it was the game which the Yomiuri Giants were playing.

You were now on the corner of the pitch, equipment set up, game in full play. The heat of the crowd pressed down on you as you angled your camera at a figure all too familiar.

Fucking focus, [name].

The ball whizzed through the air. He hit it, arm and bat lashing out, and-

“Fuck!”

You cursed, jerking away from the camera set up and throwing your hands over your head. It fell to the ground, shattered, and the ball rolled across the ground, hitting your knee.

You looked up. The crowd was roaring. Your head was ringing, feeling faint as you stared at the broken camera lying on the ground. Oh jeez, you were going to faint. Fuck, those players hit the ball hard.

You looked up and saw Ken Sato hurrying towards you.

And that was when you fainted.

Kenji Sato was going to fucking jump off of a bridge.

Pacing his living room, he dragged his hands through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath. “Mina, I’m so screwed.” He paused, looking at her hopefully. “Am I? Screwed, I mean.”

“That would be an interesting topic of debate, Ken.”

“Give me a proper answer, dammit!”

“You’ll be fine.”

“What about the girl?” He stopped suddenly, freezing in place. “I feel awful, you know.” Mina stared at him. “Yes, I can feel regret. Shocker.” He ran his hand through his hair, again. “I already replaced her broken stuff, right?” He looked sick. “Should I apologize? In person? Over text?”

“You could apologize over text,” Mina said.

Kenji immediately fell into the couch, pulling out his phone. “What’s her instagram account name?” Pulling it up, he scrolled through the photos. “[name] [surname], sports photographer,” he read aloud, eyes flicking down to the pictures.

“She has taken photos for teams, articles, and even major sports magazines.” Mina flew down, hovering near his head as he scrolled curiously.

“How many photos do you bet she’s got of me?”

“Would you like me to run a search?”

Ken looked up, surprised. “I was just kidding.” He dug his nail beneath his other nail, considering the offer, but Mina was already doing it.

“Approximately ninety-seven out of two-hundred and twenty-nine images posted on her professional account include your face,” Mina concluded. Ken stared at her blankly. She remained silent for a few more seconds, letting it sink in, then spoke again. “I suggest scrolling to the very bottom of her account, her earliest days of photography, Ken.”

“Ninety-seven?” He asked incredulously, and Mina simply repeated her previous statement. Scroll down.

He did. It took him a while, but he finally managed to hit it, and-

“I’m in college in these.”

His eyes scanned the pictures on the screen- most of which were of him. College games, every one of them. He’d never noticed her in the crowd. Had he?

And there were so, so many.

He could feel heat creeping up his neck. He didn’t find it creepy, or stalkerish- not at all, but instead dared to feel a tiny bit flattered.

Oh, she was obsessed with me. That’s kind of cute.

He wondered if she still was.

Taglist: @moonjellyfishie, @lovingyeet, @aise-30, @scarasw1f3, @v1ennie im only doing taglist this once but I’d prefer it if people just followed me instead because they’re such a hassle

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svgvru · 11 months ago

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𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓 (𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓), 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓 (𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓), 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓─𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓!

🎁 christmas present 4 @sensivs: sub top, m!reader ─ dom bottom, ftm!sukuna ꒰ hein era!sukuna, non-con/dub-con? female + male anatomy described, uraume is helping/ watching so cuck and threesome later?, dacryphilia, sukuna has 2 clits instead of 2 dicks, face sitting, this is totally not inspired by some porn i saw on twt, lmk if there's something else.

"𝗡o, my lord..." Uraume's voice rung out through the large "throne room" Sukuna had built, "I don't believe this man is good at anything." Sukuna's watchful eyes narrow at your trembling form; you sat crouched down before him with bound wrists.

The King of Curses peered down at you with a hum. "No particular skills or nothing?" His gaze was full of judgment and ridicule, "I wonder how he intended to get wife with a list full of incompetence." Uraume nodded at his words, they never particularly liked any of the humans Sukuna thought was worth saving. "Uraume? You cleaned him like I asked?" The servant nodded.

"Yes, my lord," they responded, "Although, I believe a proper concubine would be much more useful than...him, if I am guessing your intentions correctly."

With a glare, Uraume's lips were shut. "Uraume, I suggest you don't push it." Uraume gave him a quick bow, "Apologies, my lord." Their eyes drift to your worried and scared expression before they step back into their place. Your eyes catch the four of Sukuna's rack your form. The lower two are fixed on the only cloth you have on you, covering your groin. Worries filled your head as you look at Sukuna's large form. His four arms were crossed, his legs spread wide as his kimono flowed around him on the cushion his throne. Two curved scars rest under his nipples.

"Hm, perhaps I'll use you for my pleasure," Sukuna spoke with a tilt of his head. "Come here." Uraume's lips twitched in annoyance. They hated when their lord would call upon someone else to serve him in that way. After all of the years, the learning, and memorization, there is no spot on his body they do not know. And yet, he'd choose someone else?

You take hesitant steps toward him, moving your feet faster at his glare. Sukuna studies your timid expression, almost grinning at it. "On your knees," he smirks as you easily follow orders, "Take off my robes."

There's hesitance to your actions as you messily remove his robes with your bound hands. Sukuna watches your chest flutter from your hitched breath. Your eyes are trained on the sight between his legs. His pink pussy is in front of your face; puffy, spread lips─and two red clits were inches from your mouth. Your lips part, tongue tracing the inside of your teeth. "I..."

A sudden loud laugh bursts you out of the thoughts your in.

Your eyes flicker to his face, his twisted smile meeting your face. "Enjoying the view? I thought you hated being in here," Sukuna teases. The King stands up, moving from infront of the cushion. "Lay down on your back. Let's put that tongue to use," he grins, watching your much smaller form lay down on his large cushion.

There was anxiety in your chest as you peered up at him. What if you can't pleasure him? Would be crush you with his weight? He is much larger than you, and he intends to sit on your face.

Sukuna smirks as he watches your lips part, mouth opened wide for him.

You close your eyes, feeling the plush skin of his ass envelope your face. His slick touches your tongue, his hips rock side to side as your lips swiping along his puffy folds. Sukuna smirks, his larger eyes locking onto Uraume's heated face, his smaller eyes looking down at your growing bulge.

The sounds of your rough breathing, eager mouth, and whimpers are music to his ears. "Come now, you can do better. Please me," Sukuna growls. "Ngh─ah...yes!"

The rocking of his gets rougher, your lips mouthing as his dripping cunt. Your tongue dipping inside of him, slurping up his slick. You moan into his skin; your eyes cross at his taste, bound hands slipping under your loincloth to stroke your hardening cock. It was baffling to you. You, are beneath the King of Curses, eating him out. His thighs shake around your from and you can tell he's close.

Your fingers touch your sensitive tip, loud whines coming from you, grunts coming the man above you.

Until you feel a large, calloused hand grasp your own. "Ah, ah...I didn't say you could please yourself, did I?" Sukuna grins, "I have other plans for this..." Sukuna licks his lips, grinning at the size of your cock he feels. The King sucks in a breath rotating his hips on your mouth. "Ah, glad you can be of─use," he grits his teeth, hips stuttering as he cums on your mouth. "Yeah, swallow it for me."

Sukuna sucks in a breath, eyes crossing as your tongue flicks along his sensitive clits, prolonging his orgasm. "Oh...yes," he growls with tensing thighs, suffocating you.

When he lifts his hips from your face he smirks, his hands still covering your throbbing cock. Your face in bliss, panting with his release covering your face. Sukuna laughs at your expression. "Almost came from eating me out? Hm," Sukuna lets go of your hands and simply tears the flimsy loincoth you wore, "Now use your cock to fuck me."

He lays down next to you on his side; his back faces you. "Come now, don't make me do all of the work," the man grumbles as he feels your cock pressing against his ass.

You gulp; you try and shift your hips to get your cock closer to his waiting pussy, and to no avail with your bound hands pressed to his back. Sukuna sighs and reaches between his spread legs, his hand engulfing your small cock (at least compared to him). He slips your cock between his wet folds, grunting as he feels you inside of him. "Mm, yeah..." Sukuna takes a breath, adjusting for a second, "Now move."

"M-mhm!" you whimper at the feeling of him. You drag your hips from his before slamming them back against him, feeling the warmth of his pussy coat your cock.

Sukuna bites back a moan, giving your cock a quick squeeze. Your hips brush against the cushion every time you retract them from him. Sukuna's face was in a frown twisted in pleasure. "Fuck," he whispers as your increasing pace, "Harder." String of moans and whimpers leave your bitten lips. The sounds of his wet pussy squelching around your cock fills your ears. "Sukuna," you moan, obliging with his request, fucking his pussy like he needs.

His hands are resting behind his neck as you hammer his pussy. There's a wave of feeling from his stomach to his thighs; he feels his orgasm coming close, but somethings mission.

"Shit─" Sukuna grits his teeth, "Uraume!"

"Yes, my lord?" Uraume steps up, their jaw locked at the sound of their lords moans, and the use of this pathetic "servant" defiling a king with his cock. Sukuna lets out a breathy moan, "Please me. Surely your mouth and hands can be of use other than for cooking."

"Yes, my lord." Uraume moves towards him, fingers ghosting his pale skin. Sukuna's chest shudders; his hips stutter at Uraume's touch. One of their hands rub circles on one of his wet clits; their mouth licking at the top one, lips encasing it with warmth. Sukuna's hips twitch as Uraume's lips suck on one, their thumb rubbing his exposed clit. It doesn't help that his ears pick up on the quiet sobs from behind him. He felt the wetness of your tears touch his toned back.

Regardless, of if you felt good or hated this, your cries only served to further his orgasm. Uraume hated it.

"Mmph─fuck," Sukuna whispers, one of his large hands delicately rest on the back of Uraume's head...the opposite of his roughness with you. "More, Uraume...more."

Uraume's jaw relaxes licks and sucking at his clits, the tip of their tongue ghosting along your cock. "S-Shit─" they hear you whisper in Sukuna's back. Your hips stutter against Sukuna, both of you are close. "May I? Please," you whimper in a sob. Sukuna's pussy tightens around you, "Fuck─yes!" Uraume's tongue swipes and wraps around one of his clits. They were sensitive, both of them. Uraume was quite surprised Sukuna's lasting so long. Perhaps because your here? Normally, he'd let it all go in front of Uraume...perhaps it was his title as king.

"Cum, my lord. Please," Uraume mumbles around his clits. Sukuna's gentle hand slightly tightens around Uraume as his pussy tightens.

A string of moans leaves your lips, a loud groan leaving Sukuna's as you release inside of him. His bottom lip catches behind his teeth, the large mouth on his stomach pants as he milks you dry. His pussy spasming on your cock. "Ngh─yeah...just like that!" Sukuna creams coating your cock and thighs in his release. His eyes rolled and tongue lolled at the feeling of your cum filling him. Uraume can feel their own arousal pooling at the sight and taste of their king, but that waits until later. Now, they simply need to help him come down from his high.

He feels your cock soften inside of him, slipping out with a wet squelch. Sukuna's chest rises up and down, "Uraume..."

As if reading his mind, Uraume jumps to help him come down, cleaning him while glaring towards you. You whose panting and covered in Sukuna's cum. Sukuna hums at his soon clean and fixed form. Uraume bows, pleased to have pleaured their lord. Sukuna looks at Uraume, one of his hands softly rubs their head before giving a command. With a quick glance to you, he orders...

"Clean him up. Perhaps I'll milk him more."

seen a lack of sukupussy. therefore, here.

taglist: @pulpbeing @flimsyichigo @icaruien @whiteholesun @ambro-main @astroknottt

#꒰ 📃 ꒱ — 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 #sukuna x male reader #afab!sukuna #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #x male reader #sub male reader #top male reader #afab character

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agoodroughandtumble · 4 months ago

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Roronoa Zoro x Reader - Hair Tie

Status: Complete (idk might be more parts) Summary: Zoro & Reader explore an island – Reader finds a way to keep Zoro from getting lost Warning: 18+. Language, mentions of NSFW but more innuendo/implied

“That’s...it,” you panted out, resting your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. “Screw what Nami will think. We are getting you a leash.”

Zoro looked down at you, an eyebrow arched and arms folded against his chest. “What’s up with you?”

Standing up fully you glared at him. “What’s “up” with me? I’ve just spent the past twenty minutes chasing after you.” The swordsman merely shrugged, only irritating you further.

Being paired up with Zoro whenever you landed on a new island was always a mixed blessing. Realising your feelings for the man were far from platonic was hardly surprising, but didn’t make his tendency to get lost any less infuriating. Especially when you were trying to spend more time with him and he kept wandering off. At least it wasn’t just you. In fact, the leash idea had initially been Nami’s. At the time she had been adamant that she had merely suggested it to you as a way of preventing him from getting lost – but it quickly became apparent that she was completely aware of your crush, and much to your chagrin found it far too amusing to keep teasing you about the subject.

Since then, it had become increasingly difficult to get the idea of Zoro tied up out of your head. Every time he was working out on deck, beads of sweat adorning his muscles, the small grunts, knuckles whitening slightly as his grip on the weights tightened… It had almost gotten to the point that whenever you saw him heading towards his make shift gym you had to make yourself scarce. Of course Nami always noticed, and always sent a smirk your way which just made you leave quicker.

Fortunately, on this particular occasion you were too annoyed to let your mind wander. Instead, you had an idea. With one hand you untied your ponytail and slipped the hairband around your wrist before taking hold of one of his. You tried to ignore the butterflies erupting at the contact, instead focusing all of your attention to stretching the hair tie over his wrist as well. Not exactly as foolproof as a leash, but you would be lying if you were complaining about the accessory forcing the backs of your hands to touch. You pulled away slightly, testing out your workmanship.

“This’ll do.” You tried to sound casual but the goosebumps running along your forearm were probably giving you away.

“You’re ridiculous.” Zoro gave you an amused look before glancing down to your conjoined wrists.

You raised your eyebrows – the fact that he hadn’t immediately pulled his hand out giving you a boost of confidence. “A big, strong swordsman like you could easily escape.”

His fingers brushed against yours slightly. You knew it was purely because of the proximity and yet your breath hitched a little at the sensation. Maybe it was a blessing you didn’t have an actual leash if you were getting this flustered with only a hair tie. You’d touched his hand before – usually when you were trying to drag him away from a bar but this was different. Intimate. Zoro was choosing to stay bound to you.

A small sigh left you. Difficult as it was, getting ahead of yourself would only cause more problems later. And you hated the fact that you were so far gone that even something as innocuous as him just not walking off was causing you to question whether there could be anything more under the surface. Every interaction was over analysed and questioned and just left you more confused. It was frustrating. Embarrassing.

“I didn’t say I was complaining.”

There it was again. The small flicker of hope. Zoro was infuriatingly hard to read, especially for someone usually so blunt. No, he wasn’t complaining. But that was far from being happy about the situation, being happy about the fact that your fingers were so excruciatingly close. It would take the smallest fraction of movement to hook your little finger around his and yet such an act felt impossible. You desperately wanted him to initiate something, anything, otherwise you were sure your heart was going to rip straight out of your chest. You were pathetic.

Worse than that, your newly found confidence seemed to be fleeting. You flexed your hand a little – suddenly aware of the pure ridiculousness of the situation. “This was just a joke, you don’t have to actually be tied to me. I just thought it would be fu-”

He twisted his wrist and suddenly his hand was clasping yours. You could feel the heat from his palm searing against the back of your hand, his thumb gently rubbing your little finger. A shiver ran down your spine, anticipating his next words.

So of course he was silent.

The pair of you walked in silence. Zoro seemed completely unfazed about the fact that he was very obviously and deliberately holding your hand, and you, well, you were trying to pretend that you had any sort of self-control. Your eyes darted along the street, trying to find something to comment on and relieve the ever growing tension. As if the gods themselves were smiling upon you, you found the perfect place – a place you knew Zoro couldn’t resist. A bar.

“Do you want to get a drink?” You asked, voice a little hoarser than it should be.

“You read my mind.”

The bar wasn’t particularly busy, it seemed more cosy. You scrunched your face a little at seeing that the majority of the tables were dimly lit booths in alcoves. A perfect spot for intimacy. For a date. Trust you to find the most romantic bar whilst stupid Zoro was holding your stupid hand. He strode confidently over to the bartender, almost tugging you along and rested both hands against the bar – seemingly forgetting you were literally attached. Your wrist hit the wood with a small thud.

“We can take this off…” You started, wriggling your fingers slightly.

“I’m fine. Drink with my other hand anyway.”

You let out an exhale. His nonchalance was starting to irritate you. If he wanted to hold your hand then obviously yes, he should do that. But if he was just being stubborn or making a point or it just didn’t bother him in the slightest… The man was infuriating. On the upside, you were in a bar. “I’ll have a beer. And a shot of … something.”

Zoro didn’t waver, purchasing the drinks before leading you to a booth. Since you were both still joined by the hair tie you had to sit with your thigh touching his. In hindsight maybe that had been a really bad idea. Or the best idea. You weren’t sure. All you were aware of was the smell of sweat and steel and how fucking big his thighs were. You adjusted yourself slightly, crossing your ankles together in an attempt to gain some sort of distance between the two of you. That action was rendered completely pointless when you went to take a sip from your beer with your dominant hand. The one that was currently attached to his. You fumbled slightly, withdrawing and then reaching with your free hand.

“Sorry,” your thumb ran along the label, pretending that was far more important than anything else happening around you. “I’m going to take this stupid thing off.” You turned slightly, reaching towards the hair tie.

“Don’t.”

His abrupt tone caught you off guard. You stared at him. All you could do was stare at him. Fuck his eyes were beautiful. At this proximity you noticed the small smattering of freckles along his cheekbones – how was he constantly getting more attractive? Surely at some point he had to run out of ways to make the butterflies perform somersaults. Feeling the nerves rising, you chewed on your bottom lip. Usually you longed for time alone with Zoro but now you were praying for a distraction, any distraction. You waited. And waited. Zoro looked at you expectantly but you were frozen in place. All you were aware of was the rise and fall of your chest and the way his lips ever so slightly parted as he continued to stare at you.

“Don’t…?”

The silence was thick. Viscous.

Zoro’s gaze dropped to your entwined hands. Your breath hitched. Heartbeat racing. His fingers running along your skin did nothing to relieve the tension. It was unbearable. Suffocating. Fuck. If he wasn’t going to break it you had to.

“Zo-”

“I want to be tied to you.”

You both stiffened. Another silence. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Eventually, his gaze lifted upwards. You wished it hadn’t. You felt like your entire body was on fire and yet you couldn’t do anything but remain completely still. Waiting for flight or fight. His free hand found your jaw, a gesture you had been waiting for for months, wanting for months and yet instead of relaxing into it, of allowing yourself to indulge in his touch you remained on edge, frozen in place.

“(Y/N) …,” he sighed and rested his forehead against yours. Breathing in the same air as you. “I want to be tied to you.”

#opla #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #opla x reader

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acotarxreader · 2 months ago

Text

Hounded

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Eris loves his dogs more than any other living thing and they love him but soon his eldest hound has found a new interest, you and your endless supply of bread rolls. An unlikely friendship begins to form between the Son of Autumn and one of Springs last border guards, Craos is just hoping to create some sort of parent trap situation.

Warning: Fluff, banter, blood, wounds, doggos, Eris shaming the dogs belly, poor editing

A/N: Hi friends! I orginally wrote this for @erisweekofficial for the Hounds theme however I've been really in the trenches recently and only got around to finishing it now, so I'm sad to have missed Eris week but still happy to be publishing my first Eris fic! Let me know what you think!

P.S Craos (cray-us) in Irish means blazing when referring to fire and Tine (tin-ah) means fire so I named two of the dogs after these words for a lil Irish flare

----------------------------------

The hounds were Eris’s greatest pride and occasionally his greatest pain in the ass. He fought with this very thought the day his eldest hound, Craos had managed to dip out of his view one walk. Eris blamed himself for losing sight of his favourite friend, so deep in the thoughts of worry about the Night Courts antics that threatened to expose his double agent status to his father. Actually, he blamed them for her escape, it was easier that way. The Autumn leaves crackled against the weight of his heavy boots, his voice getting lost in the whipping whirling wind of the forest far from his residence. Eris swung harshly around on his heels, just in time to catch Craos bounding up the hill towards him, mischievous as ever.

“You scared me half to death girl” He laughed down at her, running his thumbs over her ears in soothing circles she loved so much, his other hounds leaping around waiting for their turn. She seemed to wish to pull him in the direction she bolted from, something tethering her to the distant spot in the vast woods. “Come girl, leave that hare to its escape love, you’re getting…fluffy enough without the extra feed” he laughed, leashing her to him and taking her from her pointed stance. Eris made a mental note to closely monitor Craos food as she began to get rounder than the others in the pack, no doubt owing to the budding Autumn wildlife she’d snag unaccompanied.

The following weeks lead Eris down a rabbit hole of Night Court intricacy, forever walking the line between ally and babysitter. He took comfort in the daily strolls through the thicket of woodland, his beloved pack in toe. The days he missed the walks he noticed his own demeanour change, his interest in the tangled interpersonal mess the Inner Circle was weaving waning beyond even an ounce of interest. Eris checked his hounds daily and despite their own vast staff, he loved to take care of them and nurture the breed while nurturing something he wasn’t even sure he still had inside himself. Some care for another living thing. Not in a selfish way of course, but more in a self-preservation sense, what he loved had a habit of crumbling in his hands or being crushed in someone else’s.

Deep in thought, Eris ran a hand down the head of one of his younger hounds, Tine, who laid his head on the lap of his master as Eris tried to gain an understanding of the written correspondence on the desk. Tine grumbled against Eris’s thigh before stretching down to the ground.

“Its tough work being pampered Tine” he laughed to himself, casting an eye on the other 4 hounds, curled into their own worlds by the fire of the study. Eris smiled softly at the relaxed nature, would any other living thing find such comfort in the company he provided? He forced the ever-present question away from his thoughts, casting a look to the sofa where Craos would often take her rest. Empty. Eris stood abruptly, chair screeching along the slate enough to have Tine stand to attention once again. Craos had been there when the others came in from their dinner? Hadn’t she? Another attempt by the Night Court to swipe away Eris’s attention buried him in paperwork when the dogs were returned to him.

Quick on his feet, Eris and his pack found the staff of the kennels and after a brief and sharp discussion it was unclear if Craos was with the pack on return from her exercise. Following sharp threats, Eris took to the woodland again, his hounds hunting down their own with precision. His voice reverberated off ancient trees as their crisp golden leaves began to ink with lush green colour. Thoughts of the worst clouded the shrubbed path as Eris felt the border of Spring, his second least favourite place in the realm.

“Craos!” He echoed across a section of the stream border between Spring and Autumn. The mischievous hound leapt with excitement at the presence of her master, bounding through the shallow stream to return to Autumn and its son. He gave thanks for Spring's current instability as during time previous he wouldn’t have gotten this close to the Spring border without a visit from the furry High Lord. Eris couched into the silt of the streams bank, rubbing Craos's goofy face while quietly scolding her, knowing full well she wasn’t listening.

“Petal” Eris looked up from the rushes towards the call of the sing-song siren-like voice. Not in the mood for confrontation with Spring, Eris crouched further into the brambles, obscuring himself from the female across the watery border. Craos pulled against Eris’s gentle hold, eager to cross the border again and succeed with another call from the voice. Eris watched the most feared hound in all the realm, leap like a bunny rabbit to your shadow, jumping to lick your face as you crouched to allow her.

“Petal darling easy” You laughed, coating the clearing in an ease unfamiliar to Eris. through the thick river rushes Eris watched his much-revered hound roll to her back for scratches before leaping up to follow your hand as it dug through your bag.

“Okay, sit now” you laughed, Craos eagerly obeying and happily rewarded with a small bread roll you took from your bag.

“Easy easy” You beamed as she scoffed the lot, Eris watched the interaction with equal parts confusion and intrigue and at that very moment realised the most feared son in all the realm was acting like a bunny rabbit hiding from a fox in the rushes. That very son shot upright quickly from his burrow, causing you to leap slightly with fright as Eris pulled his shoulders back in a more becoming stance. The both of you looked across the crystal-like stream, Craos jumping at your feet eager to resume your undivided attention.

“Come” Eris called across the rushing water, only to have Craos not respond to him with obedience. You slowly ran your hand down the hounds head, not taking your eyes from the High Lord’s son.

“Forgive me sir but you have no business this close to the Spring border” You tried your best to project confidence, it slipping from your grasp in the face of Eris’s heated stare.

“You’re forgive” You fought hard to not roll your eyes at the obvious display of sarcasm. Eris lightly tapped his side, Craos’ ears snapping forward to attention before bounding across the stream to her master.

“Good”

“Don’t hurt her, she’s only coming home” You walked to the bank's edge, eyes scanning Craos for any sign of distress.

“Home?-” Eris found it hard to muffle his confused chuckle “-she is my hound, property of the Autumn Court-”

“Property!?-” You found the full strength in your voice “-she is a living being and she belongs to Prythian, she is more at home in the forest and with me-”

“-And who exactly are you?” Eris was quickly losing patience as Craos seemingly shrunk in stature at her master's strengthening tone.

“It matters little, leave the dog and return away from my border-”

“-Orders?” Eris’s laugh filled the clearing, his heavy boots now stalking closer to the perimeter “-I will not take orders from anyone.”

“I hear you take orders from the Night Court” You laughed, it now skirting along Eris’s nerves instead of soothing them.

“I do no such thing” The river water’s temperature began to rise as the son of the flame began to stalk closer.

“Really? I heard you even bend over when dear Rhysie asks” You laughed again, Eris now causing the very edge of the river to steam. You raised a hand before his boot fully slid into the refreshing stream, a long wall of water dividing up the middle of the lake, stopping him in his tracks.

“Ah ah-” you shook your finger towards him “-fire and water don’t mix sir” Craos ears pinned back at your words before she looked between the two of you, unsure of her own next move.

“Your name, tell me your name” He chewed out, examining the translucent wall in front of him for cracks.

“YN, the last keeper of my Court’s boarders” You smiled so innocently, it almost lured Eris back into that unfamiliar softness until he heard the soft sizzle of the dying flame at his fingertips, it turning to steam against the new border.

“The last? Perhaps you should take that as a hint and seek further employment at a market or something?”

“Is that where Rhysand bought you?” You smirked, with more playfulness than power and Eris fought away his own smile. Craos leapt forward, Eris going to catch hold of her before she could slam into the fortified border but to his surprise, she glided through it with ease unavailable to him.

“She can stay, you may go”

“She’s my hound, however, your supply of bread rolls certainly explains her newfound…plumpness” He heard her seemingly groan back in offesen and you looked from her to him.

“Now you’re annoying two females, you should potentially quit while you’re ahead” Eris scoffed at your teasing, the sound of the other hounds bounding behind him piquing your interest. The four looked to their eldest sibling across the water, heads cocked to the side in curiosity and some form of canine communication. The four followed suit of their leader and crossed to you and Craos with ease.

“Look at you lovelies” You beamed, crouching to meet the hounds as they reunited with their sister. Eris watched through the glistening border wall, his feared hounds reduced to cuddly toys under your touch. It was if he wasn’t even there. You interacted with them like they were never a threat and never would be, the way that he felt you might feel about him. A foreign feeling to a male whose reputation often goes before him.

“We-we must be going” Eris felt unsure of the ounce of guilt he felt towards separating you from his pack, some sense of something wrong flooded him when they all ran back to his feet, leaving you alone on the other side of the clearing once again. You looked down with softer eyes to the dogs at his feet, no ounce of fear from them giving you comfort.

“Don’t make a habit of feeding them all now” Eris smiled, bringing your eyes back to him.

“I thought she was stray, I didn’t know she was one of yours”

“They’re all mine, you say she belongs to Prythian but that is the very land that tried to eradicate the breed” You nodded lightly at his proud words. Silence returned to the clearing only to have Craos groan, receiving a knowing look from Eris.

“She can come back when she is not working and when I say it is okay but, the bread rolls end” another groan from his eldest hound “No more bread rolls” he reiterated to her, gaining a laugh from you.

“It's okay Petal, we’ll see” You smiled at her, the other dogs listening carefully and plotting their own access to baked goods.

“Her name is Croas, it means blazing, a more fitting name than Petal I think” he laughed heartily, the action surprising even himself a little.

“I’m going to stick with Petal, keep to your side sir” You returned the grin before dipping you head and evaporating into the very mist you built the wall from.

Eris jogged through the vast Autumn woods, desperate to crush the headaches the Night Court were giving him like the leaves under his boots. The hounds sprang into their own exploration, all staying in close proximity except Craos, who had gone to visit you. Over the past month, she began to spend more and more time with you in Spring, even missing a few nights away from home to keep you company. It didn’t bother Eris as much as he had thought, the bread rolls had stopped and Craos seemed happy, he had no reason to take away another living thing's happiness. He never wanted to do that, to begin with, it just became part of his image, his unfortunate brand he couldn’t wait to shed once he assumed power from his father.

Wartime plans swirled across his head, scenarios of defeat and success clogging his mind until he was snapped from focus by his suddenly wet shoes. He had once again jogged to the border of Spring and Autumn. This was the third time since first meeting you that his feet had taken him where his heart wanted to go and his head didn’t consent to. Unlike those times, however, he found you sat a little way up the stream by the river's edge. Eris watched Craos sprawled along your side, your hand drawing lazy circles on her stomach as you kept your focus on the book in the other.

“No wonder Spring is falling, when the border guards take such leisure during their worktime” Eris called across to you, throwing his weight into the trunk of a sinking willow, hands tucked deep in his pockets. You looked up from your deep study with a slight jolt, Croas leaping instantly to defend you and sinking back once seeing the perpetrator. Eris never thought one of his hounds would defend anyone without his instruction and yet here Craos was, delighted to be at your service. You looked at Eris's sinking shoe before tilting your head slightly, the wall of water reappearing with the movement.

“Threatened sweetheart?” Eris smirked, his hands now crossing against his chest in amusement as you stood.

“Why would I be threatened by someone who’s going to slip?” Before Eris could question further, the sinking willow slipped free a root from the crumbling soil under Eris’s weight, his full balance being thrown back to land on an equally shaky bank. Your laugh echoed off the Spring trees at the sight of the much feared Son of Autumn helplessly falling into the shallow water, it soaking him to his skin instantly. Eris felt flushed with anger, it mixing violently with embarrassment but the sight of your head tilting back with put amusement took it from him as fast as the bank took his balance and he found himself smiling.

“I don’t know how but you did that on purpose” He stood, a quick flash of flame drying him off as Craos crossed back to his side.

“I can’t be blamed for you being clumsy” You chuckled, tucking your book back into your bag, Eris catching a glimpse of the cover.

“I’ve read that, I didn’t think others would have?”

“So unique and mysterious sir, not like other High Lords” You teased, your hands finding your hips as the other hounds joined the scene, seemingly groaning to demand their dinner.

“Well, if you would let me cross this silly little water show, I could show you” You raised an eyebrow to his tone of possible flirtation. You blinked softly, a splash of water ejecting from the wall to soak Eris again as he recoiled.

“I can be blamed for that, little water show” You laughed loudly, Eris wiping the water from his face until another flash of heat dried it away. He thought briefly about how he’d killed others for less and yet no desire to do that to you.

“Maybe another time then YN, I just came for our girl anyways, come Craos better get you home for your dinner” He smiled at the obedient pup.

“She had a bread roll” You winked before dissolving away in the mist.

—-----------------

Eris dragged his hands through his hair, his rings snagging slightly on his locks. The warmth of the study fire took away the chill from the perpetual Autumn but was unable to do the same to his sentiments about the Inner Circle. They kept him away from his home for the past three weeks and so kept him away from his encounters with you which had become more frequent in the three months since your first. Still, he stayed on one side of the watery wall, happy to exchange some stories with you across its shimmering surface. Craos was only too delighted that her newfound parents had seemed to cross the bridge between indifference to let's say tolerance.

Eris stood from his desk, taking a violet-coloured book from the vast library before stalking around the grounds of his hidden home away from home, his hounds in tow except for the usual conscientious objector. The sinking sun reflected beautifully off the crisp leaves of this secluded cottage away from both Autumn and Night Court headaches. He sank down into a well-rotting deck chair, it creaking under his weight as he cracked the spine of the forgotten book you had reminded him of two months prior. It wasn’t long before the sound of heavy panting snapped Eris from the world on the tea-coloured pages.

“Craos?” He called to the growing darkness, standing to his feet as the hound came bounding through the trees before barking frantically, stirring the other sleeping hounds.

“What? What’s wrong?” A flame came to Eris’s hand instantly as Craos took the cuff of his trouser leg between her teeth and pulled to which he went willingly. She released her grip before dashing back in the direction she came from, only stopping to make sure Eris was still following. The group leapt over tree roots and mossy burrows, all quick on their pursuit of Craos and her frantic nature until the familiar flush of Spring air rushed at them. Eris’s eyes shot to your weakening body across the familiar river, your groans of pain reverberating off the trees as you fought to stand. Craos met your side quickly as you procured yourself up on one elbow, the mud and moss obscuring you slightly from Eris.

“Hi Petal, it’s okay” You tried through tears to reassure her, taking your hand from your mangled leg to rub her reassuringly, your blood tinging her fur on contact. She yelped towards you before looking back to a pale Eris, you only notice him then. You tried your best to push from the ground, the screaming sound of metal on bone attempted to deafen your cries of pain. It became clear to him then, that the giant metal teeth of a trap designed to capture naga had found a new victim to lay claim to, its unforgiving mouth crushing through one of your ankles. Eris sank a foot into the river, your shaking hand instantly raising the wall of mist to block him.

“YN, let me cross” He pleaded, failing to hide the desperation in his voice.

“I-I can’t, he’ll know-know I failed to keep the-the border and he-he might come for you for-for crossing” Your rattling breath only pushed Eris closer to the wall, it solidly pushing him back despite your growing weakness.

“Let me deal with that overgrown badger, let me across, I need to help you” he continued to plea, his palms flat against the wall of water as the hounds cried out their own appeals.

“What-what if he comes for-for Craos” You cried, attempting to sit up, your pain threshold quickly being pushed to the limit.

“Then we’ll both kill him but you need to live for that, now please” His sterness finally had you giving in, the wall dropping with an uncharacteristically loud whoosh. Eris was quick to your side, his strong hands pried open the deathly grip held on your ankle as you cried out in almost deafening pain. The pressure released on your spraying arteries caused a new flood of blood to cover you both, the loss of blood pressure stealing colour from your face as well as energy. Eris took hold of the mangled joint, his hands gently heating.

“You’re gonna hate me for this YN”

“N-nothing new there so” You half laughed through gritted teeth, it taking some semblance of worry from Eris before he began to to heat his hands to molten levels. You screeched from the feeling of healing flame, your arms instinctively wrapping around Eris's neck to bury your scream in his shoulder. The cauterising was the easy part, the fractured joints and bones not so much. With your arms gripping around him, he sank his hands beneath your legs to pull you up from the ground, the sudden upshoot and loss of blood causing you to lose consciousness immediately.

The feeling of plush fur beneath your cheek was the first thing you noticed, then the smell of crisp cedar and smoke. Your eyes flittered open to the flickering of a well-established fire, Craos lying protectively up the length of your stomach on the oak-coloured leather couch. You rubbed her gently causing her to immediately react with large licks up your cheeks, the other dogs rushing to do the same.

“Easy everyone” Eris laughed, a large mug in his hand as you sat up from the overwhelming affection. You looked down to see your mangled ankle no longer resembling a horror scene, a pristine white bandage replacing the crimson blood and torn muscle.

“You’ll be okay, I had a healer here, you might be a bit sore” Eris spoke softly, watching you inspect the wrap before passing you the mug.

“Thank-thank you” You looked back to him before taking a deep drink from the ceramic.

“You didn’t even assume I poisoned that, we’ve made a lot of progress” He laughed, sinking into the chair across from you.

“If you were going to kill me it would have been at the sight of the first bread roll” You chuckled, Croas’s ears perking up at the mention of her favourite snack.

“Yes well, there's still time” Craos grumbled at her master's teasing, gaining another laugh from you. You looked around the small living room that had become your infirmary, noticing the vast collection of books, wooden figurines of great creatures and general Eris-ness about the place. The inspection made Eris shuffle slightly in his seat until you caught him watching you. You smiled back, swinging your legs to stand again, Craos moved from your side to the other end of the couch.

“Careful walking YN, I had to threaten the life of a healer to fix that ankle” He smirked but the worry was still written across his amber eyes. You took one or two shaky steps before stopping, Eris fixating his eyes on every movement as Craos seemingly decided to take things into her own hands…or paws. She suddenly jumped from the couch, knocking into the back of your knees, sending your shaking legs from under you. Eris was quicker to react than you, taking hold of your outstretched arms and saving you from imprinting your face on the coffee table.

“Saving you for the second time” He smiled down at you, allowing you to shift your weight for him to support you, his hands finding your waist to steady you.

“Maybe I’ll return the favour sometime and not drown you” You laughed again, your hands taking hold of his shoulders for greater balance.

“I have a weird feeling YN that you could save me in another way” He cut off any questioning you might have, your lips meeting his with a delicatness you didn’t know any male could have let alone one of the most feared. You were suddenly pulled away from him by the feeling of paws on your good foot. You both looked down to Craos who stood knowingly between you both, looking up with adoration at her two favourites fae, making you both laugh.

“Good girl Croas, very very good girl” Eris beamed down at her before looking back at you again, his new found salvation.

-------------------------------

What do you think friends?

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lowkeyren · 6 months ago

Text

quietus!

to find peace in eternal rest ; "death or something that causes death, regarded as a release from life."

in which — elio finally fulfils blade’s wish for death, in an unexpected way.

pairing — blade x gn!reader

✧˖⋆｡° — wc: 1.1k, grgrrrr angst, haha cry hurt/no comfort, bladie my fav edgelord, tw blood but dw there’s no detailed gore, spoiler for blade’s previous name, okey thats all enjoy!!!! likes n reblogs r appreciated <3

the promise of death was a distant yet tantalizing dream for blade. years of endless suffering, a paradise he's been yearning for— finally comes to an end. no longer will his body stitch up the wounds caused by his own hands; the scars holding memories, marked by countless battles fought and the years that went by, to be forgotten.

shackled by the chains of immortality, you too, know how it feels like. you knew yingxing like the back of your hand, both of you had witnessed xianzhou's rise and fall, and felt the crushing weight of loneliness as time went on inexorably. though you managed to find solace in each other, blade never stopped his pursuit for eternal rest.

coming home to you as the scent of blood wafts through the air, a reminder of the price he had to pay, and the sacrifices he made in pursuit of a “dream” that remained just out of reach. his body, marred by countless wounds, bore the scars of a life spent on the knife-edge between life and death.

for too long, you had been bound together by the scripts given by elio. you had played your parts, adhered to the lines etched into the fabric of your existence. but now, as the last act draws near, you feel the impending doom pressing down upon you.

perhaps it's unfair that blade gets to taste the sweet release of death, the peace that has eluded him for centuries. perhaps it's unfair that you are the one who has to deliver his timely demise, to be the hand that grants him the freedom he has longed for.

despite understanding his desire for peace, it tears at your heart.

you grasp at blade’s sword as he stands before you. you meet his eyes in a wavering look, the steel gleaming in the dim light, reflecting both your dishevelled state.

"why…" you whisper, your voice breaking as tears cloud your vision. "why must it be me?"

blade reaches out to touch your face, his blood-stained fingers gentle against your skin. a softness reserved only for you behind closed doors.

"—because only you can understand the depths of my suffering, and only in your hands can i find the peace i seek."

you know he’s right. no one else could understand the torment he has endured, only you were there with him throughout every part of his life. you were there when he was yingxing, a name lost to history; and now blade, a mere tool burdened with the curse of immortality.

but i don’t want to lose you

blade seems to know what you’re thinking at this very moment as he reaches down to your wrist, his touch is firm yet tender, guiding your trembling fingers to align the sword against his own neck. the cold steel presses against his skin, and when he begins to speak, the slight movement causes the sharp edge to bite into his skin, a small trickle of crimson welling up and tracing a delicate path down his neck.

“i love you.”

his eyes remain boring into yours, you’ve always hated when he deliberately hurt himself, but this time it’s different, because now you are the one hurting him. you start to quiver at the thought, breaking eye contact and just as you retract your hand, you feel his grip tighten.

he continues, “…aren’t you going to say it back?” his blood glistens in the dark, a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin. “i love you too…yingxing.” you dare not meet his gaze when you uttered those words back, your voice visibly quivering.

an uncharacteristic smile spreads across his face at your predicament. “don’t regret it now.” he whispers under his breath as he uses his free hand to pull you closer by the waist, the sword digging slightly deeper in his flesh, drawing out a fresh gush of blood.

your face immediately contorts with worry, and instinctively, you try to pull your hand back. however, he laughs at your attempt and keeps his grip firm on your wrist. “don’t resist. you have to follow through”, his voice tinges with an indiscernible emotion.

as a final expression of his love that he rarely ever shows, blade leans forward, his lips capturing yours in a tender, desperate kiss. his free hand moves to cup your face, gently wiping away the trickling tears with his thumb.

“do it now."

the scent of blood mingled with the faintest hint of regret.

with a final, shuddering breath, you push the blade deeper. as he guides your hand to the side, the steel slices through with a sorrowful finality. he collapses to the floor.

you fall to your knees beside him in despair, cradling his head in your hands. a spread of crimson staining your clothes, seeping through your fingers. his eyes, though dimming, remain solely fixed on yours, a faint smile still playing at the corners of his lips.

“thank you… for everything.” he murmurs, barely audible.

your tears flow like a ceaseless torrent of waterfall, streaming uncontrollably. you want to scream, yell, but nothing comes out, you could only stare as the life in his eyes gradually ebb away. the world around you fades into a blur, you clutch him closer, your hands trembling as you feel his body get heavier for each moment that passes by.

you press your forehead against his, your gut-wrenching sobs linger in the air. "yingxing," you whisper, your voice cracking. "please… don’t leave me"

i love you, i always will

for too long, you had been bound together by the shared burden of immortality. blade had endured more than any soul should bear, and the memories of his suffering now yours to carry. his body remains motionless, indicating that his agony has finally found its end; and with it, a part of your soul now irreparably torn. every breath you take, every dream you’ll have, every thought that occupies your mind will be engraved by his final moments.

you brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers tracing his features, committing every detail into your memory; your heart clenches as you weep silently. the thought of facing eternity without him is unbearable, a pain sharper than any blade.

✧˖⋆｡°

masterlist

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seeker-ophelia · 7 days ago

Text

Mythal, Solas, and Lavellan

So there’s lots of discussion about Mythal and Solas, and we need to talk about it.

I too, at first, was mad that Lavellan wasn’t enough for Solas.

And then I started thinking about it.

Not only was Mythal his mother, his creator, she coaxed him into being. Into changing his spirit and his purpose.

Regret Number 1.

He let her use his knowledge and wisdom to do a terrible thing, to kill (tranquil) the titans, changing a whole race of people at a molecular magical level.

Regret Number 2.

When that choice created the worst power known to Thedas (the blight) he was responsible again. And Mythal asked him to step up and fight against it, and he did. And a lot of people died.

Regret 3.

Mythal DIED. (IMO The gods blighted her because she stood against them for wanting to use the blight but that’s not important here). And Solas blames himself.

From Solas’ perspective, he is her puppy. Her Emerald Knight. Her General. Her Protector. Her Wisdom. Her servant, her SLAVE. He is BOUND TO HER. And he caused her downfall.

And you’re all like, GEAS! GEAS!

But wait.

From HIS perspective.

Rook says something somewhere along the lines of like, by abstainsing from being the good guy (oh wait maybe it was Varric in the fade…)

By choosing to be the villain instead of the hero is he absolving himself of the guilt (regret) that comes from having to have made those choices.

From Solas’ perspective, he is her slave.

LOOK AT HIS BODY LANGUAGE.

He is a worm in the dirt in front of her. He is a scolded child, a puppy with his tail between his legs.

But in the eyes of Mythal, he was always her friend. The one person who had always stood by her. She did not literally entrap him, or bind him. It was all in Solas’ own head.

He refused to take accountability for his actions, only able to survive through the crushing weight of his own guilt by blaming it on servitude to Mythal.

That’s why Rook escaped the prison. Because she faced her own choices, choices with terrible consequences, and accepted them. Took responsibility for them, and promised to do better.

Remember, after the Temple of Mythal…

Solas…

You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elvhen god!

What does that mean exactly?

You are Mythal’s creature now, everything you do whether you know it or not will be for her. *** You have given up a part of yourself.

***THIS WAS NEVER TRUE. IT WAS NOT TRUE FOR FLEMYTHAL & MORRIGAN, NOR WAS IT TRUE FOR ABELAS, NOR WAS IT TRUE FOR SOLAS. HE JUST WANTED TO BELIVE THAT IT WAS.

…I suppose it is better you have the power than Corypheus. Which leads to the next logical question… What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?

The war proved that we can’t go back to the way things were. I’ll try to help this world move forward. **Lavellan is talking about the mage/templar conflict, but Solas is putting her in his own shoes. Solas reached for power he could not control and fucked the whole world up.

You would risk everything you have with the hope that the future is better? What if it isn’t? What if you wake up to find that the future you shaped is worse than what was? **

**This is literally him asking her what she would do in his shoes. He woke up and the world was in chaos OF HIS MAKING. To prevent an evil HE CAUSED from spreading, he orchestrated the downfall of the people he loved and swore to protect.

I’ll take a breath, see where things went wrong, and then try again.

Just like that?

*He is in shock that she can be so cavalier about the guilt that has rocked him for (4?) millennia.

If we don’t keep trying, we’ll never get it right.

*And this is the only thing that calms him down.

You’re right. Thank You.

For what?

You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor, you have… impressed me.

You have offered hope that is one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave… that someday, things will be better.

Then, of course, he takes this to mean that he needs to try to put The Evanuris in a different prison and take down the veil which isn’t at all what we meant sweetie but that’s okay get up and try again.

This is a classic case of a person in power not understanding the terrible, horrible consequences of unfettered power imbalances. Because Solas was always Friend to Mythal (Im not going into Freudian sex shit with you weirdos right now).

Solas was Mythals FRIEND.

Mythal was Solas’ EVERYTHING.

co·de·pend·en·cy

/ˌkōdəˈpend(ə)nsē/

noun

excessive emotional or psychological reliance on a partner,

His Mother, General, Creator, Protector, Queen, Goddess.

And he loved her so fiercely with every fiber of his new, physical being.

And he hated it.

And when Lavellan fell for him, and he for her, he was afraid.

Because he would never force a spirit against her purpose, and in his eyes the only way to love is the sick and twisted way he loved Mythal.

But again, from Mythal’s perspective, it wasn’t twisted. Solas was just Solas. And once again the powerful care not for the thoughts and opinions of those beneath them.

And that sin is on Mythal.

And that’s why she comes out and talks to Solas. Both aspects of her. To release him from the bonds that never existed. Be free, friend. You always were, but if you need me to say it I will because I love you.

“I pulled you from the fade and sent you into war. I used your wisdom as a weapon… and it broke you.”

Cole: Is there a way to save more spirits, Solas?

Solas: Not until the Veil is healed. The rifts draw spirits through, and the shock makes demons of them.

Cole: Pushing through makes you be yourself. You can hold onto the you. Being pulled through means you don't have enough you. You become what batters you, bruises your being.

Be free.

“The things that I have done…”

“Are not for you to bear alone, my friend. The many wrongs we did, we did together.”

And he COWERS before her. Shaking and shuddering. FNALLY being absolved of the guilt he’s carried since his inception.

“I release you from my service.”

And he SOBBS. At the RELIEF.

And Lavellan kneels before him (wrong, IMO because they should be equals but its fine)

And he can go back to his original purpose.

Not Pride.

Not Knowledge.

Not even Wisdom.

But Protection.

“My life force now sustains the veil. With every breath I take, I will protect the innocent from my past failures.”

The Shepherds Wolf. Protecting his flock from those who would do them harm.

And Lavellan promises it won’t be terrible, as long as they’re together.

And maybe Solas can try this different kind of love. A love built on respect, and trust, instead of fear, and obedience.

And he can be his purpose, Protection, and also be a man. And love his vhenan.

Because he is free.

#Fuck my life its 3am im going to bed #Veilguard Spoilers #Dragon Age #Solas #Lavellan #Mythal #Solavellan #Guilt #Regret #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #da4 #datv #datv spoilers #Solavellan Hell is Over #The Dread Wolf #Fen'Harel

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pedros-mustache · 2 years ago

Text

good thing

word count: ~4k

warnings: smut (18+ only). also: established relationship, angst, non-planned pregnancy, implied sex-for-pay, age gap, language, x fem!reader

a/n: idk you guys. he is—as my middle schoolers would say—Him. it was bound to happen that i would write a pregnancy fic about this man. i will admit that i am weirdly nervous about sharing this fic so please be kind, friends✨🤗

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough.”

“Whose?”

“Not yours.”

The room falls quiet, swollen with the ugly reality of your revelation. Your heart hangs in your chest. A clock on the shelf ticks each miserable second he does not respond.

Joel drums his fingers on the faded arm of the couch, his face blanketed by an unreadable shroud. He stares out the window, and you know he is thinking—wondering—calculating—when this happened. You cannot tell if he is hurt or angry or merely confused, but you can tell he is running the numbers. Running the myriad of possibilities of how you got knocked up under his watch. You could tell him—spill your slimy secrets on the creaking apartment floor like a parishioner at confession—but what good would that do? What would that change? Truth revealed or not, the fact remains:

You are pregnant, and whatever is blossoming between you and Joel, whatever tender flower has broken through cracked soil to find the light of day, the baby is not his. More than that, this development, this situation, marks the end of your budding connection. That glittering future you once saw with him, the future of safety and security at his side? Snipped at the bud, crushed beneath the heel of practicality. You can go no further. Not with him.

Across the apartment, the girl—Ellie—shuffles side to side. You glance at her over your shoulder and watch a wave of discomfort twist her smooth features. You sigh, dropping your arms from their position crossed over your chest.

“Come on, Joel. Now isn’t the time to ask questions. When Tess gets back with the guns, you and her have got to get Ellie out of here.”

Maybe it is something in your resolute tone of voice, or maybe it is reality crashing landing at his feet, but your comment breaks Joel’s attention from the window. He stands, his jaw tight, his brow furrowed. He faces you, and that unreadable shroud falls from his face. He is angry, that much is clear.

He points to the apartment door. “Out.”

The blood in your veins slows, turned sluggish with the weight of your sudden anxiety. “What?” you breathe.

Shaking his head, his free hand comes to rest on his hip. You know the stance: he does it every time you insist on sharing tea in the morning or rubbing the tension from his sore muscles. He’s irritated, but not outraged. That alone is a reassuring sign.

“Not you. Her.” He gestures to Ellie. “Go wait in the hall.”

You start to protest. FEDRA on the move, Fireflies dispersed, night coming quickly—time is wasting. There’s no time for you and him and figuring this out, if that is what he wants. That ship has sailed and sunk beneath a bitter ocean of what-could-have-beens. There is only time for here and now and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

“Joel, I don’t—”

But his face softens as it so rarely ever does. He pulls his stare from the girl and turns his brown eyes—those damn puppy dog eyes—on you, and you are helpless. “Please,” he whispers.

The clock on the shelf ticks louder. Maybe you can steal a few minutes...

Without turning to face Ellie, you cock your head at the door in a silent dismissal. She releases an annoyed huff, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath about fucking adults before slamming the door behind her.

“Delightful child,” you murmur.

“She could save us all.”

Scoffing, you press your palms to the chipped table in the center of the apartment. The wood veneer is smooth, cool to the touch. It soothes your racing heart, even if only for a moment. “You’re starting to sound like Tess.”

Joel remains quiet—perhaps thoughtful, maybe biding his time—but his fixed stare carves gaping holes in the side of your head. You can feel him rooting through your mind like a scavenger. He is wondering when you slipped away long enough, when you found the time. He is replaying the moments in the market when you spoke to any other man and held his gaze for too long. He sifts through your shared memories with frantic fingers, and you can feel him—you know him well enough—to sense the panic swirling in his chest.

But for the first time in the three years you have known him, you do not have it in you to quiet the storm in his mind. You have your own tempest to battle.

Finally, he speaks. “You gonna look at me?”

The slow, deep timbre of Joel’s voice catches you off guard. You expected anger, shouting, frustration that boils over into rage. But Joel has always been gentle with you. Beneath the brusk of necessity, he is a true Southern gentleman. Just like his mama raised him. And even now, standing on the edge of the crumbling cliff where you have placed yourself, he treats you with nothing but respect.

God, you could love him. You really could. If only things were different.

You look away from the table and find him a step closer. Not close enough to touch. He is too angry for that; it is written in the shadow on his brow. But he is close enough that you can see the concern etched in the lines on his face. His frown is not at you, it is for you, and that makes looking at him all the harder.

“When did this happen?”

You shrug, eyes skittering to the floor. “I told you. It doesn’t matter. The details don’t matter.”

“Don’t they?” He has both hands on his hips now, his head tilted as he tries to catch your wandering gaze. “Come on, girl. Answer me. You owe me that.”

He’s right: you do owe him. You owe him so many times over it is impossible to count. Still, if he knew—if he truly knew... There would be no hope of repairing the damage you would cause. You would only split the torn earth on which you stand wider. The crumbling cliff would give way, and you would fall to your doom.

He reaches out. His fingers skim the rough hem of your flannel, his flannel. “Tell me, baby.” Those three words, choked out and brittle with desperation, snap your resolve in two.

You will lay your cards on the table, spread yourself across the sacrificial altar, bear your soul. For him—always for him.

Inhaling, you stand straight, bracing your socked-feet on the floor. You meet his eyes. If you’re going to go down for the decisions of your past, you’ll do it with your chin held high. Your father didn’t raise a quitter.

“Remember that battery, the one for the radio? The boots, the jacket?”

Joel nods. “For my birthday.”

You nod. “For your birthday.”

He holds your unwavering stare. The clock ticks: tick, tick, tick. Understanding rises like a slow tide over his face. You can’t bear to watch it. You look away. Shame gnaws at your stomach like a hungry wolf, and you press a hand to your belly.

“You didn’t—” He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth curling. “You didn’t have to...”

“I wanted to. For you.” Something catches in your throat. You circle the table, placing the furniture between his growing emotion and your growing regret. Fuck, you should have just stayed quiet. “So you could have one good thing.”

“But now you’re—”

“Pregnant.”

Tearing a hand through his hair, Joel twists. He faces the door, and you wonder if he is dreaming of escape just like you. You wonder if he is dreaming of a world where doves still fly and babies live past six months and men and women can afford to build a life together.

He presses a closed fist to his mouth. Light bounces off the cracked face of his wrist watch. “What are you going to do?”

You answer without hesitation. “Keep it.”

His neck turns so fast you swear you hear it crack. You would joke about his age if the situation weren’t so dire. Two nights ago you joked that he is old enough to be your uncle, maybe even your dad; he fucked you good when you said that, just to prove you wrong. That levity feels far away now, impossible to grasp should you even dare try.

“The likelihood of survival—”

“Is slim. For me and the baby, I know. But I’ve thought about it. Hell, I’ve even prayed about it. And I—” You blink away the warm tears rising to blur your vision. “I want this.”

“Why?”

Why? What a simple question. What a loaded answer. You don’t know where to begin. But he looks at you with such earnestness, such a craving to understand, that you have to at least try.

“I want a husband,” you say. When he frowns in confusion, you push onward, the words rising to your tongue like a sermon. “I want a child and a home. A life I can build and call my own. I may never have a husband or a true home, but with this child, no matter how it came to be…” You give a pitiful shrug of your shoulders. “I need something more, Joel. Something more than simply living to die.”

After a moment, when your words have settled like dust on a crowded roadway, Joel motions to your stomach. He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can—can I?”

“Yes.” You release the word on a stolen breath.

Rounding the table, Joel keeps his focus glued to your abdomen. His chest rises and falls, deep inhale after shallow exhale. He stands before you, a giant amongst men, his fingers shaking as he unbuttons the three lower buttons of his flannel. He brushes the fabric aside, and when your stomach is bare before him, he swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs as though he, too, feels a lump lodged in his throat. He smooths the palm of his hand over the slight bump at your womb. Barely there, blink and you miss it, but unmistakable once noticed.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see,” he murmurs. His thumb massages your ever-stretching skin, back and forth, back and forth. His warm breath fans your face as his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“Because you didn’t want to.”

You pass your fingers through the graying hair at his temples and study the way his eyelashes fan his cheekbones. Little moments, you think, to be tucked away in your heart once this is all over and he is gone.

“When Kate was pregnant, I knew. Sarah... I could feel her...”

Your chin trembles, your fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I know... I know...”

“A baby. In this world. I can’t remember the last time I—”

Without warning, he cuts his own thought short and slowly lowers himself to his knees. He presses one hand to the small of your back, the other still massaging the bump of your stomach. You hold your breath as he leans forward and touches your bump with his forehead. He whispers something, something you cannot hear and you suspect is not for you, and then he is standing. He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and when you meet his eyes, you see the world.

“Sugar, you are my good thing.”

I wanted to. For you. So you could have one good thing.

His words—your words—ring loud in your ear, and you choke on a sob as he lowers his mouth to yours. He kisses you like the rain kisses dry land. You are parched, cracked and withered from the fear of this moment, but with his touch, he waters your aching heart. He is eager, holding you close, cradling your jaw with the wide expanse of his hand. Never before, not in the year of sharing his bed, has he kissed you with such devotion coating his lips. You could drown in it.

You tear your mouth away long enough to look over your shoulder. The door to the apartment remains shut, a measly separation between you and the outside world. “The girl—”

Joel shakes his head, already working on the remaining buttons of your flannel. “She doesn’t matter.” He kisses your neck, once, twice, creating a wet trail to your earlobe. “Not right now.”

“Okay.” You turn back to him, your face softening as you catch his dark eyes.

He nudges your nose with the end of his own. “Okay.”

Words dissipate. Like fresh dew beneath the morning sun, the need for talking disappears under the weight of all that is and was and could be. There is nothing more to say—not aloud, not right now—but there is much, oh so much, your body can say for you.

You kiss Joel with a fierceness you have not felt since the first time he laid his hands upon you. You are desperate for him, desperate to tell him just why you did what you did, and how much you need him, want him, fuck—maybe even love him. You part your lips to allow him access, and you cling to his arms, your nails biting the flesh beneath his denim shirt. He hisses when you bite his lower lip, the hand still resting in the small of your back pushing you closer to his warmth. You tangle your arms around his shoulders, holding him closer, closer, as close as he can get without forcing him to merge into your own skin.

With a quiet grunt, he fists his hand in the hair at the back of your head and wrenches to the side. You gasp, eyes widening as he flattens his tongue against your pulse point. He sucks your skin, biting gently, before releasing your neck with a wet pop. You whimper—even as he takes your chin in his fingers again and seals his mouth to yours.

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink fully into the kiss. You do not know what the future holds or what will become of you and the child within. All you know is that here, in the now, in the present, Joel kisses you, and sweeps his tongue across your tongue, and runs his hand down the inside of your jeans to cup your ass. And for right now, in the here and the present, you are okay and you are safe and the risk of being with him is worth the reward.

He squeezes the flesh of your ass again, and you shake yourself free of any wayward thinking. Just him—just you—just now.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers against your lips. “Mine.”

You nod, and through laboring breaths, you confirm what has always been the truth. “Yours.”

It is a backwards, lopsided dance to the only bed in the apartment. He collapses to the edge, and you straddle his thigh as you kiss him. His broad hands run the course of your body, up and down, front and back. He massages your breasts through the paltry fabric you call a bra, pausing long enough to tweak a nipple hard enough you whine. He chuckles, leans forward, sucks the offended nub through the covering. You go to shrug off his flannel, but Joel stops you with a hand to your arm.

“No.” His eyes roam from your face to your shoulders to your peaked nipples and finally, the swollen womb above your center. “Keep it on.”

He leans back on his palms as you unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor. The zipper of his jeans strains against his growing erection. You peel your underwear off and face him with a smirk.

“You’re overdressed.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Maybe.”

“We should fix that.”

He waves his hand in invitation. “Be my guest.”

Biting your lower lip to conceal a grin, you pounce, zealous for him as much as he is for you. His clothes come off in quick succession until you are both naked save for his flannel hanging loose around your shoulders. He pauses then, a second, maybe two, his hand poised against the side of your neck. His eyes dart between yours, his lips parted, words he dare not say resting on the tip of his tongue.

“I know, baby.” You put one hand on his shoulder, his warm, tan skin a comfort against the chill in the room. You reach out and grip his hard cock with your opposite hand, and when he winces in pleasure, you brush your knuckles over the hair on his jaw. “I know.”

Joel allows you to stroke him, a rare occurrence in your repertoire of fucks. What is normally a frenzied connection in the dark, moments stolen before the light of day brings reality crashing back, is turned slow by the knowledge that things are different now. Things cannot be as they once were, no matter what the future may bring. So you stroke his cock, spit in your hand, and stroke it faster. Up and down, until he is pulsing in your hand and weeping from the tip. He drops to his back on the bed, his face buried in his hands as you touch him.

But then you pull away.

Joel removes his hands from his face. He stares at you, a flash of annoyance brightening his eyes. “What—”

“Shh.” You plant both hands on his sturdy chest as you swing your leg over his hips. “Walls are thin.”

Gripping the base of his cock, you run your dripping warmth over his tip. You hover above him, eyes rolling back in your head as you tease yourself. Sparks of pleasure radiate through your body, and you grit your teeth to keep from moaning. Joel grabs your hips, but he does not force you down. No, he waits until you are ready. He waits until you position his cock at your entrance and begin the slow descent to heavenly madness.

You suck in a deep breath as his cock stretches you open. He fits snug in your core, like he was crafted just for you. When you have adjusted to his girth, you move your hands to grip his arms. You shift your knees, lifting your hips up before descending again. Over and over, a smooth, unchanging rhythm.

You are in no hurry to find release. For once this fuck is more than finding a shot of pleasure amidst the cruel darkness of the world. You want this to last and you want this to feel good. You need this imprinted upon your mind, locked in the secret place of your heart.

But you and he both can only take the slowness for so long.

Joel soon resumes his position of dominance, as is custom when his need builds. You allow it because you crave it. His breadth and strength and command shields you from danger in the outside world, but you crave it in bed too, when you can allow that breadth and strength and command to slam the fear from your mind.

He slides an arm around your waist and flips you to your back, keeping you snug beneath him. He gives a few experimental thrusts before he kisses you—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. He leans back and exposes your body to the yellow light of the room. He trails his hand down your sweaty chest. His fingers dance over your bump, hovering there as if in prayer, before finding your swollen clit. You gasp, hips lifting upward, as he rubs you in circle after circle. He brings you to the edge before pulling away and gripping your shins with his hands. He pushes forward, and you are bent in half, completely at his mercy.

Holding your knees to your chest, he picks up the pace. He plows into you, teeth gritted, lips pulled back in a snarl. He watches his rigid length split you apart, thrust after thrust. On some level, you know he is staking his claim. He drives into you with such force, with such feral carnality, you know there is some part of him that just wants to mark his territory. Reclaim what is rightfully his. You let him because it is true. You belong to him, Joel Miller, not the man who planted his seed in you and walked away. Always and forever—his—your purpose.

You slap your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out in delicious agony. You feel stretched and full and electric all at once.

“That’s it.” Joel releases your shins but presses his chest to your legs. Your hips lift, swallowing him to the hilt. “Take me—fuckin’—good.”

The pressure in your core builds. Light dances at the fringes of your touch. You close your eyes, latching on to the feeling.

Leaning back, Joel swats your hip. “Open your eyes.” He withdraws his cock far enough to slam into you with more force, his tip angled against your most sensitive spot. “Look at me.” He swats your ass again.

Dutifully, you peel your eyes open. You look at him—into his eyes, his soul—as he fucks you.

You burst like the skin of a ripe grape. It is violent, sudden, earth-shattering. You convulse beneath him, and the tremors wracking your frame are enough to send him over the edge. He grabs the curve of your waist with one hand, lurching forward to catch himself on his forearm above your head. He swallows his groan of pleasure, managing to barely release a muffled whimper. His warmth oozes from your core and stains the bed sheets beneath.

He remains tucked inside of you until you are forced to push him away. A cramp in your leg demands attention, and you rub the blasted muscle until the pain has subsided. You return to his side, to his sweaty body, to his arm that slips beneath his flannel and lays beneath your back. He rolls to his side to face you.

The truth of your situation looms like a storm cloud at the edge of the room. He can see it; you can see it. You must acknowledge it before the here and now is upon you and you have no plan with which to fight it.

“What are we gonna do?” You hold his forearm, thumb brushing the bone of his wrist. His hand is warm and heavy on your cheek, his eyes married to yours.

He does not hesitate. “I’ll keep you safe. Both of you. All of you.” He smooths the sweat-plastered hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You nod because Joel Miller always keeps his promises. Whatever he says is true.

He relaxes his hold on your face as he shifts onto his back. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing even. You glance at him and the evening light that cuts his face in angular shadows.

“Hey, Joel?”

He opens one eye, peers at you in expectation.

You smile—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. “You’re my good thing, too.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #hbo the last of us

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