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joelscruff · 7 months ago

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is it that sweet? (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

masterlist | a/n i've had no motivation to write lately but this randomly popped into my head the other day and suddenly my brain was like okay let's roll!! let's do this!! let's jump in!! so idk what that says about the current state of my subconscious. anyway this is filth! pls read the warnings! love u. summary: you probably shouldn't let some random middle aged man on the beach take nude photos of you, right? right? rating: 18+ explicit warnings: pervy!joel, age gap, voyeurism, coercion, objectification, sneaky picture taking, nude photos, paying for sexual favors, dirty talk, praise kink, pussy pronouns up the fuckin wazoo, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected p in v sex, standing sex, creampie word count: 8.4k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

He's been watching you for about an hour. You'd sussed him out almost immediately after settling onto your beach towel and digging into your bag for your sunscreen, mildly aware of the shape of him in your peripheral vision. He's old, definitely in his late fifties, but certainly not the most unattractive man who could be eyeing you. You're used to it by now anyway, almost feed into the way men seem to gawk at you sometimes now that you've finally thrown caution to the wind and stopped giving a fuck about your beach body. You used to be self conscious about your curves, your tummy, your thighs - you decided this summer that it had to stop.

And you're glad you did. Because now he's staring at you, this unnamed, completely anonymous middle aged man only a few feet away. And it feels fucking good.

Should it feel good? Probably not. Should you tell him to buzz off and leave you alone? Take a picture, it'll last longer, something like that? Probably. But will you? No.

You like feeling his eyes on you.

Older men like you, you've noticed. They stare. They stare more than men your own age - boys, really. Twenty somethings who try to play it cool and more often than not come across as disinterested in their interest. They're cowardly, obnoxious. And you suppose some older ones are too, especially the ones with wives - they want you to be impressed by them, ooh and awe over their high paying jobs and big mansions, their fancy cars that they think make up for their tiny dicks.

But every now and then you'll come across one like this. You can read him like a book, peering at him from over your sunglasses every so often as he lounges behind a vibrant blue umbrella. His eyes caress your bare shoulders and chest, your exposed stomach, your soft thighs. They linger on the places they shouldn't and it makes you tingle. He's appreciating what he sees, basking in it, taking his time.

You could be content just lying here and letting him look. He is handsome after all, greying curls and soft scruff flecked with white, golden skin that almost glows underneath the sun. His legs stretch out over his own towel, long and lean and strong. He's got a soft looking belly, hanging out a little bit over his trunks, and now your eyes linger for a little longer than they should.

But you won't say anything. If he wants to talk to you, he has every opportunity to. You're not going anywhere for at least another hour, not until the sun starts setting and it's time to head back to your friend's vacation home. You've only been in California for a short period of time, but it's like it's somehow molded you into a different person - a more confident, sexier version of yourself that's been dying to get out for years. A version of you who lets this old man stare and get his fill as you smirk and turn over on your towel, arching your ass up into the air.

Oh, he likes that. You can tell because of the way his jaw clenches, neck tightening as his eyes fall to the globes of your cheeks. With a barely there smirk, you arch a little more, stretching and flexing and letting him take in the way your bikini bottoms barely contain them. Your breasts hang low onto your towel, practically overflowing from their own containment, and you have to admit - you're getting a little wet posing for him like this.

He licks his lips, eyes flickering downward again to something closer to him, something in his hand. You crane your neck a little bit to peer around the blue umbrella, and your breath hitches.

He's taking pictures of you.

It's obvious now, should have been obvious this whole time, really. Only one of his hands has really been visible, the other settled low against his side behind the umbrella. Now you can see that he's got his phone angled toward you, the camera peeking slyly out from behind the blue nylon as he repeatedly taps his screen with his thumb. To test him a little further, make sure you're really seeing what you think you're seeing, you push down into the sand with your hands and rise up a little bit on the towel, almost into a lazy downward facing dog. Your tits jiggle below you, threatening to escape, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as the man adjusts the camera to get a better angle. His thumb and forefinger glide across the screen, undeniably - and unashamedly - zooming in.

You're definitely wet now. You know you shouldn't be. You know this has probably gone too far and you should get up and leave, potentially tell someone about the creep on the beach taking photos of women in bikinis.

Instead, you make eye contact with him, settling back down onto your towel with your ass still perched a little in the air. He seems to freeze, eyebrows going up in the realization that he's been caught. In response, you blink slowly at him, pout a little bit as if to say, Really? You arch your back a little more and shimmy your hips, tilting your head as you continue to gaze over at him, eyes going a little hooded.

Come fuck me, you're almost saying, even though you know there's no way in hell you're gonna let him. It's just funny to watch him squirm, phone gripped tight in his hand as his adam's apple bobs in his throat. You arch a little more and then grind your hips into your towel, flattening yourself against it, holding his gaze. You rest your head and smile at him teasingly.

He's getting up and shuffling toward you in no time at all.

"Hi, darlin'," are the first words out of his mouth when he reaches you, and you certainly did not expect a Southern accent to fall from those plush lips. He's gorgeous really, now that you can see him up close - wide shoulders and big arms that strain against his white shirt, strong chest covered in little freckles, chocolate brown eyes that shimmer in the sunlight.

"Hi," you say with a smile, blinking up at him.

"I'm sure you saw what I was doin'," he seems a little embarrassed, voice apologetic as he scratches the back of his neck, "I know I shoulda asked, but you seemed so relaxed, I didn't wanna disturb you."

Bullshit, you only came over because I smiled at you. Any other reaction and you'd have run for the hills.

"I'm Joel," he reaches his hand down for you to take. For some reason, you shake it without hesitation. "I'm actually a photographer, believe it or not."

Huh. You raise an eyebrow at the words, doubt immediately swimming in your mind as you assess him.

"If you're a photographer, where's your camera?"

He chuckles, "Back at my hotel. I just came out here to relax, wasn't plannin' on takin' any photos. But then I saw you, and, well..." he smiles at you sheepishly, "You're just so pretty, darlin'. Never seen somebody like you before."

The words are not special. They're nothing you haven't already heard, nothing he hasn't probably already used on countless other women. And yet... you smile back at him, cheeks warming a little at the way the compliment sounds coming out of his mouth in particular, all Southern and sweet. "Thank you."

His eyes suddenly leave yours to flicker back toward your body again, scanning the length of you. As if on instinct, almost to show off, you tighten the muscles in your ass cheeks and then release, letting them jiggle a little bit under your swimsuit. He swallows tightly.

"Would you be interested in posin' for me, sweetheart? There's a little spot down the beach, outta sight. Still public though, of course. I wouldn't ask you to go anywhere unsafe," his eyes linger on your ass for a few more seconds before he's meeting your gaze again, soft and sincere, "I'd love to get some pictures of you in that bikini, and some with it off too, if you're comfortable with that."

Oh, he's fucking brave. You can feel disgust brewing in the pit of your stomach, a scowl beginning to dawn on your face. This is where you should draw the line. This is where you should get up and leave, tell him to go to hell, tell him he's a pervert and-

"I'll pay whatever you think is fair," he continues, "How's three hundred as a starting point?"

On second thought...

"Beautiful, baby," he's telling you softly, "You're so pretty like that."

You hum in contentment, laying in the sand with a little smile tugging at your lips as Joel maneuvers around you with his phone, snapping pic after pic as you peer up at him through rays of sun. You're a little ways down the beach now, in a sparser area behind some rocks. He was right about it still being public - if something happened, you know you could raise your voice the tiniest bit and be heard immediately by people on the other side. Somehow though, despite his forwardness and slightly perverted habits, you trust that he isn't going to force anything on you.

You've already got three hundred dollars in your purse. He'd given it to you before you'd even gotten up from your initial spot on the beach, placed it in your hand with a grin as your eyes widened. You suppose you could've taken the money and run, but part of you wanted to play it out, test the limits, see what else he'd pay you for.

Which leads you here, laying sensually in the sand with the strings of your bikini dangling a little looser off your shoulders and hips, a little careless, a little more teasing. The poses so far have been pretty basic, and you've tried your best to emulate what you think a supermodel on the cover of Sports Illustrated would do. Based on Joel's responses - excited nods and gentle praises - you think you're doing a good job.

"Turn over now," he tells you with a playful grin, "Put that cute little ass in the air again for me."

It should be demeaning, the way he's talking to you. There's a lot about this situation that should be wrong, and yet you can't help but feel pride swell in your chest at his directions, his compliments. You do what he says, flipping over to dig your hands into the sand and arch your back, turning your head to eye the camera directly with a sultry little smile on your face.

"Perfect," he's murmuring, thumb tapping the screen like his life depends on it, "That's so perfect, honey." You listen to the fake little shutter sounds the phone makes, still wondering if he's even really a photographer. Would it even matter? Wouldn't you have still let him do this anyway?

With this new angle you can feel the loose strands of your bikini top starting to slip, unraveling at the back and trickling gently against your sides. You watch with what should be a worrying lack of urgency as it cascades down onto the sand below, leaving you topless.

He whistles low under his breath, "Well, would you look at that. The girls are out."

"That's an extra fifty," you say with a coy eyebrow raise, "Or else I cover them back up."

"Extra fifty, no problem" Joel echoes, "Can you shake your ass for me again, darlin'?"

You nod, tilting your head and peering back at him as you tighten and release your muscles with a giggle, basking in the way he stares at it, like it's a five course meal he's about to devour. You do it a few more times, arching your back a little more and spreading your thighs slightly to allow for more recoil, more jiggle. He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat and you grin.

"How much to take these off too?" he lowers the phone and peers at you with pleading eyes, brown and soft, "Huh? How much extra to show me this lil' peach, honey?"

You grimace, looking down at the sand and trying to calculate an appropriate cost in your brain. You bite your lip, "You know that's not the only thing that'll show."

"I know," he murmurs, eyes trailing downward again to eye your ass, still perched high and plump, "Your peach and your pussy then, how much?"

Fuck.

"I won't touch you," he promises softly, "You can just tug it down and show her to me, lemme see her up close, yeah?"

Her?

Her.

"Christ," you mumble under your breath. He's filthier than you thought, and not in a bad way - in a fucking hot way. "Another fifty," you decide, voice firm, "And... and I wanna see you put the money in my purse first. And no touching my... her."

"I can do that, sweetheart," he's already digging into his wallet and yanking out the money, opening your bag slightly to place it inside. It could be counterfeit for all you know; this whole thing really might be a completely worthless venture, and yet -

He watches as you reach backward to untie the strings of your bikini bottoms, doing it in one fell swoop and then spreading your thighs again, knees digging into the sand. You arch and press your face against your towel, feeling goosebumps rise all over your skin at the knowledge that he's staring at where you're now completely bare.

You hear him groan, a rough little sound that goes straight to your core, and a few little shutter sounds go off, "Now, that's a pretty little pussy you got there, baby."

Heat rises throughout your body, up through your chest and to your cheeks. You turn a little to look at him shyly, lashes fluttering when you see where his gaze has settled.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, honey, she's so pretty," he breathes, "She's all wet. Leakin' for me, you see that?"

You can't see it of course, but you can feel it; feel the way you're dripping, knowing that he can see it, has a 1:1 view of the way you throb and drool for him. This random old man who about twenty minutes ago you'd never spoken to in your life.

"And your little clit is sayin' hi to me too, babygirl, can see her pokin' out." Fuck. You squirm a little in place as his camera continues to go off, legs spreading a little more unconsciously as you tilt your head downwards and close your eyes. Your clit twitches under his stare.

"Swollen little thing," he breathes, barely loud enough to hear, "Perfect pussy."

Jesus Christ.

"Roll over for me again, sweetheart," you hear him say quietly, "Show me all those pretty parts."

You don't know why, but you whine a little at his words. It's subconscious, a burning desire you can't describe as you slowly flip over and lazily lay back on your towel to show him your entire naked body. He stands over you with his brow furrowed in a gentle kind of way, eyes appraising you up and down like you're some kind of goddess. And fuck, he's kind of making you feel like one.

"Legs open a little bit, baby, that's it." You obey, spreading your legs and looking up at him with lidded eyes, lips parting a little. You bring your arms up to rest behind your head and he takes note of the way your tits bounce for him, shivering back and forth beneath his gaze. "You're perfect," he murmurs, "You're absolutely perfect."

"Stop," you say, unable to stop a grin from spreading across your face, "M'not perfect."

"But you are, darlin'," he shakes his head, eyes full of wonder as he kneels down to get some closer pictures. You watch as he brings his phone down directly in front of your pussy, snaps a few close-ups of your puffy lips and swollen clit. "I'd love to kiss her, honey, if you'd let me."

"N-no," you say quickly, though your voice cracks, "No touching."

"I'll pay you extra," his eyes return to yours, locking your gazes, "You name it, baby. I'll pay anything to taste how sweet you are down here."

You look at him calculatingly, tilting your head. Anything?

"Two hundred," you practically whisper, "In the bag."

You're half expecting him to tell you that he's run out of money, that he couldn't possibly give you any more than the four hundred he's already blown on this. But he surprises you, reaching back into his pocket to grab his wallet and tug out the bills. It's like he has an endless supply, and you're beginning to wonder if maybe this is a hobby of his, something he prepares for, carries money around to be ready to spend on women like you. Maybe he's rich rich, has unlimited money to throw away, and this is just his weird perverted thing he does on the side of something else.

Maybe you should have asked for more.

But he's already kneeling back down into the sand and you're already opening your legs wider for him, allowing him to settle between them and lean his head forward to place his lips gently against your pussy. You watch with heavy lids as he kisses you so softly there, his mouth tender and inviting and deliciously scratchy from his scruff. Without really thinking about it, you reach down and run a hand through his curls, smiling a little fondly as he kisses you again, and again, and again.

"That feels nice," you breathe, watching as he continues to press incredibly slow and gentle kisses to your cunt in an almost respectful way, a reverent way.

"Good," he murmurs, lips vibrating against your core, "Want it to feel nice for you, baby."

You let out a soft moan the second his tongue breaches your folds, wet and warm. You watch as he closes his eyes and seems to get lost in it, tasting your pussy like it - or she, as he'd said - is some rare delicacy he's never indulged in before. He trails the tip of his tongue through the mess you've made, maneuvering your puffy lips and flicking it against your clit. Your hips buck and another moan slips out, quiet and pitiful.

"That's it," he murmurs against you with a little half smile, "So sweet for me, honey." He dives back in immediately and slowly plunges his tongue inside your entrance, fucking into you a few times before carefully pulling back and opening his eyes to peer up at you again. God, those brown eyes are fucking sinful. He gives you one more smile and then reaches down to grab his phone.

"Gonna get some more pics of this messy girl, okay?" he breathes, and you're a little startled when his left hand is suddenly coming down to touch you there, two fingers carefully scissoring you open. You don't say anything, too horny to protest, too intrigued to see what he's going to do. "Gotta open her up a little," he tells you softly, answering your unspoken question, "Wanna take a little peek at what she's hidin' inside her, baby."

A little whimper falls from your throat again as his fingers scissor you wider, holding you open and baring your hole to his camera. You can feel your walls twitching and pulsing, contracting and leaking; you can only imagine what it looks like. Your eyes roll a little when his middle finger taps your clit, another gush of arousal flooding past your opening.

"Look at this lil' hole, huh?" he's murmuring, but your eyes are closing and your head is falling back onto the towel as he plays with you, "Oh, she's alllll messy for me down here, baby. And it's no wonder your clit came out to see me, she loves gettin' played with, don't she?"

Christ, he knows how to talk. His words send another helpless little sound past your lips, thighs trembling as he slowly caresses your clit with his finger, pressing down on it with just the right amount of pressure.

"Aw, you're all sticky here again, baby," he whispers and you whine, feeling your juices dribble down toward your ass, "Shh, I'll take care of it," and then he's leaning back in to lap at your folds, a little faster this time, more desperate, "Tastes so good, pretty girl. So sweet."

He suckles your clit into his mouth and you let out a breathless moan, brow furrowing as he suctions the swollen nub and lets one of his fingers fall to slip inside your entrance. You're so close you can feel it, coiled inside and ready to snap at any moment, his thick index plugging you deliciously as his tongue swirls. You tighten around it, thighs squeezing a little around his head, and then-

He's pulling away, removing his mouth and finger. Your eyes flutter open and you watch as he stands up with a little groan, older age apparent in the way he clutches at his back and exhales once he's upright. You want to tell him to get back down here, finish what he started, but part of you feels like it'd almost be letting him win, somehow. This perverted creep on a public beach that's somehow managed to lure you away and get you naked, take photos of your body and eat your pussy. He doesn't deserve to have you beg for him - even if you want to.

"Can you stand up for me now, honey?" he tilts his head, squinting against the sun and smiling like he didn't just ruin your orgasm.

On shaky legs, you manage to pull yourself up from the sand and stand before him in all your naked glory, legs crossing a little as you squeeze your thighs together. He smirks but doesn't say anything about it, instead angling his phone toward you again and snapping some full length photos. You immediately do your best to go back into Sports Illustrated mode, posing a little and trying to ignore the ache between your legs, the relentless throb of where his mouth just was.

"Squeeze your tits together for me," he tells you, voice a bit deeper, rougher, full of arousal, "Cup 'em a little, show me those cute lil' nipples."

You do as he says, biting your lip and showing the camera exactly what he wants to see. Your nipples are peaked and hard, begging to be teased and tugged, but you refuse to do it yourself - you're not giving him the satisfaction, not after what he just pulled. He takes a few up-close pictures, camera so close to them that you shiver with sensitivity, the smallest bit of air from his movements causing them to tighten even more.

"Those are so beautiful, baby," he murmurs softly, gaze trailing upwards to meet yours, "Can I give 'em a kiss too?" God, his eyes are so fucking soft and sincere, like fucking boba pearls. You wonder if anyone's ever been able to say no to him.

You swallow, keeping eye contact, "For another fifty, sure."

He chuckles at that, "You drive a hard bargain, darlin'."

"I know what I'm worth."

He smiles, nodding slowly, "That, you do." He pulls out his wallet and slips another bill into your bag, then shuffles toward you again. You try to keep your breathing calm when one of his hands comes up to cradle your bare back, pulls you in a little bit as he lowers his mouth to your right nipple. With hazy eyes, you watch as he presses the softest little kiss to it, then does the same to the left.

Part of you wants to pull back and say that's it, that's all you get, just to see what he does, give him a taste of his own medicine. But then he's wrapping his lips around the pebbled bud and suckling, your eyes going glassy, jaw dropping a little as your hands come up to hold his shoulders. Your pussy throbs at the sensation, thighs rubbing together again as he suctions just the right amount and swirls his tongue all over the hard peak. It's impossible not to let a quiet moan fall past your lips, something he returns with a little mmhmm around your nipple, a wordless I know.

It feels so good that you feel your guard going down even more than it already has, feel your head falling forward to rest against his. His greying hair is so soft, so warm from the sun. You blink slowly and inhale, cheek smooshing into his temple as he sucks and sucks and sucks, then turns his attention to the other one. Little whimpers are tumbling past your lips, your hands squeezing and caressing his shoulders as you feel yourself starting to drip down your inner thighs.

It's so fucking intimate, much more intimate than you anticipated. And when he finally pulls away and comes back up to peer into your eyes again, leaving your nipples puffy and a little sore, you betray yourself by leaning forward to kiss him softly, tugging his bottom lip into your mouth and returning the favor with a little suckle. You feel him smile against you, the hand on your back tightening as he brings his other one up to tangle in your hair. His lips are plush and wet - a little chapped from what he's just done to your nipples - and he tastes like pussy.

It's fucking heavenly.

"I wanna show you somethin', babygirl," he murmurs against you after a moment, and you nod a little too quickly, a little pathetically. You're starting to realize that you're losing the battle here, if there ever even was one.

He pulls back a little, eyes still soft. You watch as he reaches down to his swim trunks and unties them, heart suddenly in your throat as he slips his hand inside and comes out with an absolutely beautiful dick. It's long and thick, rounded and full at the tip with an extremely suckable looking mushroom head, as well as a prominent vein trailing up his shaft that makes your mouth water. You both stare at it for a few seconds without speaking, your lips parting but no words coming to mind.

"You wanna take some pictures with my cock, honey?" he asks you quietly, and you think he's probably looking at your face now, watching your expression, but you're still just staring at his dick.

"W-what?"

"Just a few, like...well..." he shuffles forward a bit and very gently presses the warmth of his cock against your bare stomach, letting the tip sit just above your belly button, "Like this."

Your brain is blank.

"That okay?"

His cock is so heavy.

"Darlin'?"

And warm.

He pushes some of your hair behind your ear, cradles your face in his big hand, "I know, honey," he murmurs, "You just gotta say okay."

Okay?

"O-okay," you finally whisper.

"Yeah?"

Yeah. You think it but don't say it, can't say it. You feel beyond overwhelmed, eyes still glued to where his throbbing tip is smooshed into your belly. You can't stop looking at it, ogling it, awed by its impressiveness and girth, the way it leaks a little onto your skin. You've never seen a dick this pretty before. You almost forget that you're standing there without any clothes on, barely aware of the shutter sound as he snaps multiple pictures on his phone.

"Good girl," he murmurs softly, "That's a good girl, just look at it."

Every few seconds he repositions a little, pulling you in closer to capture the way his cock stands at attention between your bodies. Precum gurgles from the tip and makes a sticky mess in his happy trail, dribbling down onto your skin. Without thinking about it at all, completely unaware of even doing it, your arms are suddenly around his waist, holding him close with your gaze still locked onto his cock.

"Yeah, that's for you, baby," he tells you softly, grinding his hips a little bit against yours and essentially fucking his cock against your stomach, "You did that to me."

It's only when he suddenly takes a small step back, holds the base and angles it downward to gently prod the sticky head against your pussy lips, that you finally come to your senses.

"Wait," you gasp out, yanking yourself back from him and shaking your head, "W-wait a second."

"M'sorry," he says quickly, brow furrowing as he puts his hands up. His cock hangs from his trunks almost comically, bobbing up and down as he takes a step back, "Shoulda asked first."

"Y-yeah, you should've," your voice cracks, heat flooding your face, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me just then, that was too far." Why the fuck are you apologizing to him?

"S'not too far," his words are gentle, alluring, "We're just havin' fun, aren't we honey? You were havin' fun, got lost in it. It's okay."

You take a breath, staring at him as you try to get your bearings. Were you having fun? Is this fun? What the fuck are you even doing right now? Your thoughts are cloudy, hazed with arousal and attraction to this complete stranger in front of you. Are you really gonna let this continue? Is it really worth it? Your gaze falls back to his cock and the question is almost answered for you.

"What am I doing?" you ask aloud, a breathless little laugh escaping your lips.

"You're just havin' fun with a new friend, s'all it is."

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the way your hands tremble, "Is that what you are? My friend?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be, darlin'," his mouth turns up at the corners, eyes sparkling, "I sure would like to be your friend."

He peers at you for a moment, waiting for you to speak. Your mouth opens a few times but no words come out, your thoughts scrambled as you try to make heads or tails of this situation. You're suddenly painfully aware of the fact that you're still completely naked, and you quickly peek your head over the rock formation to make sure there's nobody nearby - there isn't.

Why are you checking?

"C'mere," Joel finally says, and you turn back to look at him with your lip between your teeth. He's standing there with his arms open a bit, cock still heavy between his legs. By all accounts, a fucking perv. And yet...

And yet.

Fuck it.

You're back in his embrace in no time, hooking your head over his shoulder and allowing his cock to press warmly into your skin again. You close your eyes and sigh as he brings one of his hands downward to squeeze your ass.

You know what he's going to ask before he even says it.

"Can I put it inside you, darlin'?" he murmurs softly, pleadingly, "Just to get a pic of your pussy all full?"

You don't say anything.

"Won't take more than a minute," he urges, "I promise, baby. Just wanna see it stretched around my cock. Don't you wanna see that, pretty girl? I'll pay extra, whatever you want."

More silence.

"I know you wanna see it," he's relentless, his other hand coming down to squeeze your other cheek and pull you impossibly closer, "You wanna feel that, don't you, baby? Big cock fillin' you up before you go?" His middle finger slides between your cheeks and settles at your pussy, slowly teasing your entrance, "Don't gotta do anything at all, just gotta stand here, we'll do it standin' honey."

"Standing?" you ask softly, pulling back to look at him with intrigue, and your response suddenly has him grinning from ear to ear as he slowly inserts his finger. You shiver, eyes fluttering closed as he fills you with it.

"Standin'," he repeats, "Just like this, baby, don't gotta do anything 'cept open your legs a little for me. You can do that, can't you?" The hand on your ass comes up to hold your chin; he pinches it gently between his finger and thumb and gives you another soft look as he starts to fuck you in earnest, "I know you can, 'cause you're a good girl, yeah?"

"Y-yeah," you breathe, arms tightening around his body.

"Yeah," he adds a second finger, smile faltering into a sympathetic pout when you let out another soft moan, "And you want that cock, don't you? I can see it all over your face, honey. Don't gotta pretend."

"I do," you whisper with a nod, swallowing thickly and trembling in his arms, "I want it, I do."

"So..." he's waiting for you to say the words, to tell him to go ahead and put it in, do what he wants, let him take control. His fingers are relentless inside of you now, plunging in and out at a speed you know he's purposely using to distract you, cloud your decision making.

Which is why his eyebrows go up in surprise when you're suddenly reaching down to grab tightly to his wrist, yanking his fingers out of your pussy in one swift pull.

"Three hundred," you state, "Take it or leave it."

To your surprise, his face alights with a gigantic smile, a deep laugh tumbling past his lips as he nods and digs his hand into his pocket, seeking his wallet one more time, "Yes, m'aam," he grins, "I'll take it."

You've never had sex standing up before. Not like this, face to face and completely upright with your feet planted on the ground. It's a little awkward at first, Joel having to crouch a little to align his hips with yours, one hand gripping your waist while the other grips his phone. God, this fucking phone. You're pretty sure you'll never wanna see a phone case with this ugly shade of cerulean blue again, let alone hear those obnoxious shutter sounds.

Your annoyance is quickly overpowered by the sensation of the warm head of Joel's cock pressing gently to your pussy. You look down to watch, lip between your teeth again as Joel snaps image after image of the way his tip crowds your outer lips, pushes them apart. You have to admit, it's certainly a sight to behold.

"Yeah, look at her open for me, baby," he's murmuring, thumbing the base as he slowly rubs his cockhead back and forth through your folds, "Bloomin' like a little flower."

The top of your head rests against his shoulder, face angled down to watch what he's doing. A tiny whimper falls from your lips when he very slowly eases the head of his cock inside of you, the stretch barely noticeable with how wet you are. He releases your hip to reach down and open your pussy lips with his thumb and forefinger, exposing where you're joined.

"Tell her to smile for the camera, babygirl," he whispers, and while part of you wants to roll your eyes, another part can't help but feel a gush of arousal at his words, soaking his cock even more, "Good, that's good."

He feeds his cock to you slowly, making sure to take as many pictures as he can. Little whines and squeaks erupt from your throat and your hands claw at his back, fingers tangling in the white crocheted material as he fills you up. It's only when he's fully sheathed inside of you that he suddenly tugs his trunks down a little more to expose his balls, heavy and round and full. You stare at them with a longing in your eyes you can't describe, lower lip trembling as you watch them bounce and settle against where you're joined.

"There you go," he murmurs, snapping one last picture before tossing his phone into the sand and bringing his hands up to cradle your back, pulling you close, "All done, baby, that's it."

Your toes curl in the sand as you embrace the feeling of being so full of him, his tip pulsing delicately inside the deepest parts of you. A distant thought in your brain wonders why he just threw his phone on the ground, but it doesn't seem to matter when you feel like this, so full and wet and warm, lost in a hazy glow. You bury your face in his shoulder, letting out quiet little whimpers as he pulls you in tighter. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, seemingly reveling in the moment too as you stand there listening to the ocean waves, impaled on a stranger's cock.

"How's that feel, honey?" he asks you softly, thumbs tracing shapes along your bare back, "Hm? Feel good?" You don't answer, just nuzzle your face against his skin and let out another soft whine, hands clamoring underneath his shirt to grip his back. He chuckles, "Yeah, I know, baby."

You both stand there for what feels like forever, until you finally have enough sense to pull away from his shoulder and get a look at his face. He's watching you fondly, brow furrowed, eyes still incredibly soft and inviting. He really is gorgeous. Pervy, but gorgeous.

"You dropped your phone," you mumble, words faint and slightly slurred.

"Don't need it anymore," he murmurs, "Got my pictures."

"Then why are you still inside me?" you ask softly, eyelashes fluttering, "If you're done?"

He shrugs, smiling, "'Cause it feels good, don't it?"

You stare at him for a few seconds but end up nodding regardless, turning your face a little to peer over at the ocean, "It does," you admit, "Feels really good."

"Mmhmm," he kisses the top of your head again, then your temple, stroking his fingers through your hair. The way he touches you is reverent, delicate, like you're something fragile he needs to keep safe. It's not what you'd expected, that's for sure. But something you're not as sure about is what happens now, where you both go from here.

It doesn't take long for him to decide.

You feel his thumb on your clit, drawing your attention away from the ocean and back to his presence. You peer at him through bleary eyes, a dazed little smile curving your lips as he carefully rotates the swollen nub. His belly caresses yours, warm and soft, and you smile even wider.

"Feel good?" he asks you again - tender, kind.

"Yeah," you whisper.

The hand on your back comes up to cradle your hair, pulling you in close again and allowing you to rest your head against his smooth chest. You moan as his thumb picks up speed, the sound muffled by his tan skin.

"You want me to make you come, honey?" he murmurs, fingers brushing carefully through your hair, "You wanna come all over that big cock inside you?"

"Yeah," you repeat, a little broken this time, "W-wanna come."

"You've been so fuckin' good for me, you know that?" he breathes, barely a whisper, brow furrowed as he continues to rub your clit, "Posin' all pretty, showin' me that soft little pussy, lettin' me taste her," he gives a low whistle, shaking his head, "And now she's all full, huh? She full?"

You nod, eyes rolling a little, "Y-yeah." Apparently yeah is currently one of the only words in your vocabulary.

"She all messy for me?"

Again, you nod, expression blissful as you let out a moan, "Yes, Joel," you whimper, and you're pretty sure it's the first time you've said his name this whole time. It's like you've been trying to be disconnected from it, from him, and now suddenly he's everywhere; inside you, in front of you, above you - there's no escaping him. And you don't want to escape - what you want is him. Badly. Desperately.

He seems to realize this at the exact same time you do, the moment he hears his name fall from your lips. Which is why you're not surprised in the slightest by his next words.

"What if I wanted a pic of my cum leakin' outta this little pussy?" he whispers, mouth suddenly directly next to your ear, sending insane amounts of pleasurable tingles throughout your whole body, "Huh? How much would that cost? Tell me."

"You can't," you mumble, lightheaded, but you're lying to yourself, completely lost in the pleasure he's giving you, the movement of his thumb and the girth of his cock.

"Only take a few seconds, honey, m'already close," as he speaks, you feel his hips slowly begin to buck, cock pulling from you for only a moment before easing back in, making you shudder, "You don't gotta do nothin', 'cept show me how she drools when she's full. You can do that, can't you baby?"

"Joel," you whine again, eyes shut tight as you dig your toes into the sand, holding tight to his back as he slowly starts to fuck up into you. He's so big, so thick, plugging you full and then leaving you again, slow and warm. You can only imagine how it would feel to have him burst inside of you, to fill you to the brim.

"I wanna see her drool, honey," he murmurs, voice desperate again, full of arousal, "Wanna see her push it out."

"Fuck," you moan, high and whiney as you suddenly grip both sides of his face in your hands to peer directly into his eyes, "A thousand," you whimper, your hands clawing at his scruff as his hips pick up speed, as his hands fall to your waist and hold tightly as he starts to pound up into you, "A thousand and you can come in my pussy."

He presses his forehead against yours, lets out a guttural sound and then hisses, "Deal."

And for some reason, you believe him.

Getting pounded while standing upright is a fucking trip. His nails dig into the pebbled flesh of your hips, knees bending and unbending as his cock fucks up into you relentlessly without stopping or slowing. Your hands are still holding his face, eyes locked with his as your mouth pops open in a silent scream, thumbs digging into the apples of his cheeks. Holy fucking shit.

"I know, I know, I know," he's groaning, voice wild and unhinged, groans vibrating in his chest, "Fuckin' take it, s'what you were made for, honey. Knew it the second I saw you, knew you were gonna go wild on that dick."

"Please," you moan out, tears pricking in your eyes, the sensations almost too much to bear, "Please, please." You don't even know what you're begging for, thoughts muddled as you release his face and wind your arms around his neck, "Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, don't stop, please."

"I got you, honey, I got you," you feel his thumb return to your clit as he speaks, the sounds of your skin slapping together almost rivalling the sound of the ocean waves, "You gonna come, pretty girl? Huh? You gonna cream on my cock?"

"Yes," you practically squeal, and before you can really process what you're doing you're suddenly jumping up from the sand to wrap your legs around Joel's waist, ankles tangling together behind his back. He has no issue shifting positions, his arm cradling you and holding you in the air while his thumb continues to ravage your clit. You feel it building in your stomach, tightening more and more with the insistent pressure of his thumb and the continuous thrusts of his dick hitting your cervix over and over.

"Ohh, I feel her, baby," he groans in your ear, "Sloppy little cunt wants to make another mess, doesn't she?" And that's all it takes for your orgasm to hit you, your legs squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter around Joel's body as you moan and whine and cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and shaking in his arms. It's like having the wind knocked out of you, arguably one of the best orgasms you've ever had in your life, your eyes rolling back into your head as you sob into his neck.

"Joel," you whimper, pussy pulsing repeatedly around his dick through the aftershocks, "Joel, come inside her, please."

"Oh, fuck."

You feel it then, the twitch of his cock and the warm ropes of his release pumping into you. You sigh almost dreamily, burying your face in his shoulder and listening as he groans, feeling the way his fingertips dig into the soft plush of your ass. It's steady - there's so much more than you thought there'd be, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper again, murmuring his name one more time as he empties himself.

You stay like that for a moment, the ocean loud in your ears, all other sounds seemingly drowned out by the hiss of sea against rock and sand. Eventually, he carries you a few steps to your towel, your ears ringing and his body trembling a little as he carefully lowers you down. You let go of him a bit reluctantly, a pout on your lips as he lays you out and then slowly pulls himself from you with a wet squelch.

"Good girl," he's murmuring - you realize he's been saying it the whole time - "Good girl, that's it, open your legs."

There's no hesitance at all anymore, not after that. You open your legs wide with abandon and sit up on your hands, watching with heavy lids as he grabs his phone from where he'd discarded it, bringing it down to your leaking pussy.

"Look at that," he breathes, awestruck, and your eyes trail downward to see what he sees. You feel heat return to your cheeks when you see the way his creamy white release is slowly beginning to dribble out of you and onto the towel.

"Wow, that's a lot," you whisper with a faint little giggle, eyes coming back up to look at his face as he watches it drip. You're not sure he hears you, intensely focused on where you're swollen and leaking, but you don't mind. You push back lazily on your hands and smile fondly at him as he takes his precious photos. In the afterglow, you find that the shutter sounds aren't that annoying, not really.

"Open her up for me, baby," he tells you softly, "Spread her wide and push it out."

You sit up a little, feeling drowsy and dreamy as you reach down and pull yourself open with your hands. You apply a little pressure, closing your eyes in a daze and hearing the wet little sounds as you push his cum out of you and onto the towel. You hear him groan, hear the shutter sounds again, and you can't help but grin.

"Are they good?" you ask him, genuinely wondering, "Is she pretty?" As you speak you pull yourself a little wider, allow him to take one more picture as close inside as possible before he pulls it away.

He looks up from his handiwork with that familiar soft smile on his face again, brown eyes shimmering in the sun that's already beginning to set, "You're perfect," he tells you, "And don't argue with me, I just gave you almost two thousand dollars."

You snort, releasing yourself and falling backwards onto the towel to stare up at the sky. Your limbs feel heavy, eyelids drooping as you watch Joel in your periphery slipping his soft cock back into his trunks, as well as his phone.

"It's real money, right?" you ask, a little unsure.

"I promise it's real money," he says with a chuckle, walking over to stand over you, "D'you wanna come back to my hotel with me and get cleaned up? Maybe have some more fun?"

You bite your lip, "Would you pay me?"

"I'd pay you."

Admittedly, as reality begins to wash over you, the idea doesn't sound anywhere near as appealing as it might have an hour ago. With a little effort, you sit up again and reach for your bikini, half buried in the sand near your feet.

"Nah, I think I'm good."

Joel reaches his arm down and you take it, letting him help you to your feet. As you put your bikini back on, you watch with a little smile as he digs the rest of your money out of his wallet, slipping it into your purse like it's just second nature at this point - which, it basically is. He stands there then, a little awkwardly, like he's not sure what to say.

"Well, uh, thank you, darlin'," he finally says, taking a step back and nodding toward you with a kind expression, "Not many girls would have, um... not many would've done this. I'd offer you my number, but I get the feeling that's not what this is."

You wince, shaking your head, "Yeah, this, uh- this isn't gonna go anywhere, sorry. But it was fun."

He nods, "It was. And, I mean, those pictures aren't just gonna collect dust, I can tell you that much."

You laugh, walking forward a little to pick up your bag. You stop in front of him and, after hesitating for only a moment, lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. Just a peck - a goodbye.

"Have a good rest of your summer," you tell him as you pull away, heat rising in your cheeks again as he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, "And uh- maybe try to be a little more covert with that camera."

This time it's his turn to blush, his cheeks tinging a dark shade of pink as he laughs and tosses you a wave, turning to begin walking away from you. He only makes it a few steps, and then-

"Hey, Joel?"

He turns on the spot, a hopeful look in his expression that makes you wonder, if only for a moment, that maybe you're making the wrong choice.

"You're not really a photographer, are you?"

His blush deepens, a look of embarrassment crossing his features, "No, I'm not. But after today, I just might try my hand at it."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*

6K notes · View notes

chrollogy · 2 months ago

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EPISODE 2: CHOCOLATE GONE WRONG

neuvillette x f!reader

NNN ‘24 masterlist | Next Episode

DETAILS: Neuvillette finds himself itching to break the sacred rule of No Nut November after naïvely indulging in aphrodisiac-laced chocolates gifted by Sigewinne—a popular craze among young Fontanian adults.

DURATION: 5.3k

CONTENT ADVISORY: explicit smut, mdni, porn without plot, p in v, creampie, neuvi has two cocks + emphasis on his draconic features, use of aphrodisiacs (neuvillette), neuvi uses his cane as a makeshift leg spreader bar, pet names (ma/mon chérie, ma belle, (my) love), not beta read

DIRECTOR’S NOTES: divider: cafekitsune. round 2! also i’m not quite sure i will get the next two fics out in time (or if i’m getting them out at all) but i will try my best T_T. your lil moon is having a rough patch rn so yeah but nonetheless enjoy!

For Neuvillette, the month of November was nothing significant to say the least—his job continued, overseeing trials, sorting out documents, meeting with important people, and more workload now that Lady Furina had stepped down from archon hood; so, when you had come into his office one day, talking about how a certain trend spread like fire across Teyvat, Neuvillette was rather intrigued.

It had a weird name—No Nut November—and couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea based on the name alone. He remembered how you explained to him Fontanians, and people of other nations were to engage in No Nut November which was to participate in sexual abstinence.

Naturally, the idea was all bizarre to him—not because he thought he couldn’t do it but more so the fact that it was natural for humans to engage in intercourse, same goes for his kind as well. Neuvillette couldn’t see the significance of such a trend, and why humans were participating but who was he to deny your proposal of a challenge? After all, there was no harm involved, he figured it would help him understand human customs a little better despite the it’s strangeness in nature.

Situated behind his desk, Neuvillette let out a deep sigh, letting the papers in his hand fall onto the wooden desk beneath before rubbing his temples.

“Stressed, Monsieur?” A familiar, teasing voice sliced through the suffocating silence of the Iudex’s office. Neuvillette looked up from his desk, greeted by a friendly figure. The former was too focused on the case materials before him that he hadn’t realised the presence of another, “Wriothesley. I’m rather surprised to see you.”

The raven-haired male was clad in his usual attire, heavy obsidian boots sounding with each step taken against the carpeted floors.

“Ah, you’re not the only one.” Wriothesley chuckled, recalling his encounter with Sedene just mere seconds ago, who looked like she had just seen a ghost. Before Neuvillette could inquire about the sudden visit, the former beat him to it,

“Don’t worry, I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here because Sigewinne had given me an errand to run. She got these for you.” Taking a couple steps closer to Neuvillette’s desk, Wriothesley placed a small box atop the case papers. Carefully wrapped in an ivory satin ribbon, the azure container was adorned with intricate designs in gold that shone beneath the afternoon sun, neatly decorated chocolates peeked from the plastic window of the lid.

The Chief Justice subtly raised his brows in amusement, he wasn’t one to indulge in chocolate nor was he a sweet tooth but nonetheless, he appreciated Sigewinne’s thoughtful gesture.

“That is very kind, please thank her for me.”

Watching the way Neuvillette’s expression morphed into a naïve smile, Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest, “Say, Monsieur, have you heard of the craze among young Fontanian adults right now?” He most likely already knew the Iudex’s answer to the question but what was life without a little teasing?

With how the popular sweet has been making rounds across Fontaine, it would be near impossible for anyone to be clueless about it but at the end of the day, Neuvillette was Neuvillette, probably the busiest man in all of Fontaine which is why Sigewinne had to intervene with the chocolates. The head nurse didn’t have to physically see the Iudex to tell how much he’s been overworking himself nor was a simple order from her was going to stop him.

So, what better way to disguise a remedy with something simple? Basically akin to administering medication to a pet concealed as a tasty treat

Sexual intercourse was the fastest—and best—way to relieve him of his stress. Sigewinne hoped for the Iudex to pardon her complete brazenness but he was as stubborn as a rock, and took her orders about resting rather lightly.

Naturally, Neuvillette shook his head with a light chuckle, a tinge of interest seeping its way into his skin, “I believe I’ve heard her talk about it but the details must have slipped my mind.” A subtle blush blanketed the Chief Justice’s pale cheeks at the mention of his lover, you. Wriothesley’s lips stretched into a teasing smile—one which the former paid no attention to.

“Well, would you ever try an aphrodisiac?” At Neuvillette’s baffled expression, the younger male bit the inside of his cheeks, biting back a hearty laugh.

“An aphrodisiac, you say? Substances that—” “That increases one’s libido, yes.” Wriothesley cut him off, tease practically dripping from his tone. Neuvillette was a man capable of many things, an esteemed individual once he’s in court but when it came to much simpler matters, the Chief Justice was nothing but clueless, especially regarding human customs that are a bit harder to wrap one’s head around.

“I’m afraid I have no such time for trivial things.”

The Iudex shook his head once more, this time dismissively waving a gloved hand at his friend. He cleared his throat, the blush on his cheeks deepening into a crimson hue—Neuvillette wasn’t going to say it out loud, especially not in front of Wriothesley but he deemed himself more than capable of maintaining his sexual desires and performances, you were enough proof.

Wriothesley left it at that, his friend may just end up as red as a tomato if he prodded around the topic any further. Needless to say, amusement filled him to the brim, “Alright. It was nice chatting with you Monsieur. I believe Sigewinne also left a small note there—”

The latter looked down at the box. Indeed, there was a small piece of paper neatly folded and tucked beneath the ivory ribbon.

“—do heed her letter.” With that, Wriothesley dipped his chin, sauntering over to the double doors.

Reaching for the handle, the Duke stopped in his tracks, he looked over his shoulder, icy cerulean gaze full of mischief, “Oh, and I hope you two enjoy—the chocolates, I mean.” With that, he left the office, leaving Neuvillette to his thoughts.

The day went by rather quickly, the azure skies turning into golden hues of oranges and yellows as the sun bid farewell to its people, disappearing below the horizon. The chocolates from Sigewinne remained untouched on the corner of Neuvillette’s desk, it watched as stars decorated the night sky; though, as the Chief Justice retired for the evening, he grabbed the box of sweets before heading out.

Neuvillette figured he’d share them with you at home.

Greeted with silent darkness, he was suddenly reminded of your words this morning at breakfast: ‘Oh, I have work dinner later, my love; so, I won’t be eating here. We’re celebrating a company milestone.’ Conveniently enough, Neuvillette had already eaten at his office before leaving so he won’t have the pleasure of sitting across an empty seat at the dining table.

Getting ready for the chilly night ahead, Neuvillette changed into his evening attire after taking a warm bath, he donned silken azure pyjamas paired with a fluffy ivory robe. His silver strands cascaded down the length of his spine, the cerulean bow, and golden hair clips he usually wore were neatly tucked away inside his jewellery box.

Situated on the love seat, Neuvillette casually flipped through case documents inside a brown paper folder. The fireplace across him was ablazed with hues of oranges and reds, casting a citrine glow upon the dimly lit living room. As flames danced atop dry wood, the dulcet sound of classical music poured from the record player, filling the space with its tunes.

After minutes of skimming and scanning the documents, he reached for the box of sweets next to his lap, taking time to read Sigewinne’s carefully written note:

Monsieur Neuvillette, I’ve acquired these sweets for you, and her! I figured these would help you loosen up a little so please do not shy away from consuming as much as you want. Make sure to share them with her as well. Enjoy!

Love, Sigewinne

A warm smile spread across Neuvillette’s face, and despite his better judgement of waiting for you to come home and indulge in the taste of chocolate together, he figured one piece wouldn’t hurt to try alone, right?

With the moon high up in the obsidian night sky, you walked down the cobblestone footpath that led closer to yours and Neuvillette’s shared space, the evening breeze gently caressing the apple of your cheeks. Work dinner had just concluded at Hotel Debord which housed a lovely singer who put on a dazzling performance.

By now, the streets of the Court of Fontaine were more deserted as people retired to their homes for the night, shop owners here and there packed away their respective signage, their stores devoid of any customers.

With each step leading closer to home, you soon found yourself in front of your home, keys jingling between your fingers as you unlocked the front door. From the entrance hallway, warm hues greeted you like an embrace, hinting at the ablazed fireplace in the living room.

“My love? I’m home.” You called out to Neuvillette while skilfully removing your shoes, and neatly placed them beside his own.

Met with silence, you figured he either must be occupied with something or must have fallen asleep while waiting for your return. You sauntered over to the end of the entrance hallway, making your way to the living room, and as you got closer, melodic sounds engulfed your senses—you recognized it, Neuvillette’s favourite classical music.

Turning the corner, you were greeted with a rather interesting sight, a wave of concern washing over you, “Neuvi—Are you okay?”

Seated on the love seat was Neuvillette, his left elbow propped on its arm rest, face hiding behind his hand. A deep crimson blush painted his handsome face, intensified by the reds and oranges that the fireplace emitted. He sat there looking flustered, chest heaving up and down as he took heavy breaths. Drinking in the view, you noticed documents sprawled across the empty space next to him but what really caught your eye was the intricately designed box resting on his right thigh.

The box had its lid intact yet the loose ivory ribbon draped over his thigh hinted he had previously opened it. Upon closer inspection, you realised it's familiar packaging, a co-worker had shown it to you the other day, telling you how her and her boyfriend have been dying to try the popular chocolates—chocolates laced with a potent aphrodisiac.

Your gaze made its way back to Neuvillette—who was still breathing heavily on the love seat—now noticing the prominent tent beneath his silken pants, the azure fabric was flimsy and delicate which left little to your imagination. Pushing away the impure thoughts that snaked its way into your mind, you kneeled before your lover with a concerned expression,

“My love, who gave these to you?”

Knowing Neuvillette, he most likely consumed the chocolates without knowing its true contents simply because he wasn’t aware of the trivial things that humans indulged themselves in.

He let out a pained groan, shaky and vulnerable as he shifted in his seat, “Forgive me, ma chérie. This is improper of me.” With trembling hands, Neuvillette covered his throbbing groin, completely embarrassed that you had to see him in such a state. Truth be told, he didn’t know what came over him—a chocolate or two was all he had, and the next thing he knew, his skin burned like a thousand suns as blood rushed down, down, down to his cock.

The very core of Neuvillette’s body churned with desire—carnal desire—and as each second passed, each tick of the ivory wall clock, the uncomfortable yearn between his legs grew. A light sheen of sweat coated his feverish forehead, as though he was experiencing a fever, and whatever this was, it heightened all five of his senses.

From your voice sounding like it dripped with pure honey, all the way to the saccharine scent of your body, Neuvillette was driven mad with lust. It didn’t help how you kneeled before him, and gently caressed his thigh, a poor attempt of comfort because it brought nothing but waves of icy shudders down the length of his spine. Sensitive. His body was completely sensitive to any external stimuli, and if you rubbed his leg any further, he might just come undone.

An embarrassing thought.

Neuvillette was pathetically needy. How preposterous, the high esteemed Iudex of Fontaine reduced to nothing but a lust-driven man eager to shove his aching cock deep in your velvety walls. The subtle buck of his hips against the thick air; the way he swallowed breathless whimpers at your touch; the violent throbbing between his legs, he was beyond irredeemable.

With another grunt, Neuvillette panted out, “Sigewinne gifted them. Wriothesley had delivered it to my office this afternoon.”

Truth be told, you weren’t surprised. At all.

Standing up from your spot, you walked over to the wall phone. You tried your best to ignore the dainty whimper that fell from Neuvillette’s lips as your warm touch left his thigh, you also tried to ignore how his body involuntarily sought you out—trembling hands reaching to chase your gentle hold.

With glassy eyes, Neuvillette watched as you deftly dialled on the phone, he couldn’t help but trace your breathtaking figure, from the square of your shoulders all the way to the curves and dips of your legs. Oh, the things he’d do to spread them open, and inhale your sweet essence like a mad man. Neuvillette could practically taste your honey on his tongue, its velvety texture sliding down his throat.

Another groan escaped your lover at the thought of eating you out, his cock rubbed against the fabric of his underwear as it shamelessly twitched beneath his pants.

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d be calling given the . . . circumstances.” Of course Wriothesley knew. Pure tease dripped from his honeyed voice, most likely paired with a smug smile, and an icy, taunting gaze.

“Why would you give him that?!”

A chuckle from the other end of the line, “First of all, I just delivered the present. Our head nurse here bought it. She’s helping Monsieur Neuvillette out.”

You huffed, trying to make sense of Sigewinne’s motives, “By what? Feeding him chocolates with a potent substance?” You’ve always adored how Sigewinne cared for her loved ones, especially Neuvillette—whatever one’s deal was, she was always willing to help out in her own unique way. But this . . giving him such a substance without any warning felt like foul play, and not only was Neuvillette receiving the short end of the stick, you were as well.

You weren’t naïve, aphrodisiacs only wore off after one has reached their satisfaction through sexual means, like quenching one’s thirst.

“You’re making it sound like we gave him drugs.” “It is drugs, Wriothesley!”

Before you could say anything else, gentle, yearning arms wrapped around your front, caressing your stomach which ultimately caught you off guard. Neuvillette. Nuzzling into the junction of your neck just beneath the telephone against your ear, he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive spot, soft smacks of his lips loud enough for Wriothesley to pick up.

You bit back a moan, free hand coming up to rest on the wall to support your weight. Neuvillette’s kisses had your legs trembling, it left prominent goosebumps in its wake as he trailed further down to your shoulder blades.

“Hm. Looks like it's time for me to go. Pass on my best wishes to Monsieur Neuvillette.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

“My apologies, ma chérie. I just—I need you.” Neuvillette sighed, hot breath ghosting over your bare skin, akin to a gentle caress coaxing you into the borders of lust, like a lone finger protruding from the darkness, beckoning you to its endless, sinful void.

“Love—mhm!” You let out a yelp, his hands finding comfort on the curve of your hips, keeping them still as he slotted his clothed cock between your ass. Neuvillette grinded into you, unshameful and devoid of any decorum. Placing the telephone back on the wall, your nails dug into the hearts of your palms, just the feel of his hard cock had you embarrassingly wet already.

Neuvillette was different from this, despite his sexual urges, he was never forward with you, he took his time—sensual and sincere, treating you like the finest piece of gold to ever exist. But saying you weren’t enjoying his brazenness would be a complete lie. Seeing a different side to your lover put you in a rather sensitive state, almost like a virgin bedded for the first time.

Something primal had awoken deep inside his core, and the only way to handle it was to satiate his carnal thirst.

Nonetheless, you tried to get your point across, “Neuvi . . What you’re experiencing is the effect of an aphrodisiac from those chocolates Sigewinne gave you.”

Your words fell deaf on his pointed ears, instead, Neuvillette mumbled some of his own, “I’m sorry . . Ma belle, I promised you about that challenge but it seems I cannot fight my urges any longer.” Another shaky sigh left his rosy lips.

Challenge? Oh.

Oh.

Even in his lust-driven state, Neuvillette was still thinking about the No Nut November challenge you had proposed earlier this month.

“I’m a man of my word but I need you, my love. Let me break the rules just this once, please?” Pure desperation coated every word that came out of his mouth. It was thick like honey, and melted on your skin like snow. God, at this point the stupid challenge wasn’t even on your mind anymore, not when he desperately humped your ass like an animal in heat—quick, little ruts of his hips that soothed the ache a bit better.

Who were you to deny your lover?

The transition from the living room to the shared bedroom was a blur—everything was hasty; desperate hands exploring each other’s bodies; lips sealed together in a rough, passionate kiss; a trail of clothes messily discarded on the floor leading up to the room. Everything Neuvillette did had you on your toes, completely breathless while trying to mirror his hurried actions.

Normally, Neuvillette would bask in your serene glory, peeling clothes off from your body layer by layer, and decorating your exposed skin with butterfly kisses. He’d gently stroke your hair, slender fingers weaving through the strands as he takes in your bare beauty.

Now, his tongue swiftly explored your mouth—lengthy and thick—something he has never done before. It dizzied you.

You landed on the foot of the plush mattress with a soft gasp as Neuvillette pulled away. Breathless and flustered, you stared up at him through your lashes, soft pants escaping your kissed lips. The sight before him made his cock twitch. How your hair was splayed around your head, mimicking a soft halo, a divine being greater than he.

Neuvillette discarded the last two pieces of clothing—pants and underwear—in one fell swoop, and what came into view undoubtedly had you clenching around nothing. Standing proud and heavy at the base of his abdomen were his cocks, both painted in a deep vermillion hue, and generously leaking pre-cum. The sticky pearlescent substance coated his bulbous tips, it glistened beneath the moonlight, beckoning you to wrap your lips around them, and have a feast.

This wasn’t the first time you saw Neuvillette naked nor were you not aware of his kind but it always brought you shock every time, not to mention the faint cerulean scales the underside of his cocks boasted, it was also his sensitive spot.

Stepping out from the puddle of fabric around his ankles, Neuvillette did the same to your undergarments, mindlessly tossing them elsewhere in the room. A low growl sounded from his chest as he pried your legs apart, his deft hands guided them to bend at the knees while resting the soles of your feet on the edge of the mattress, putting your glistening cunt on full display.

In less than a heartbeat, Neuvillette was on his knees, his eager tongue lapping along the length of your slit, your arousal pooled at the tip of his tongue like sinful honey, the divine taste of your cunt prompting another shameless growl from your lover. He repeated the movement a couple of times, each lick reaching closer and closer to your sensitive clit, and when he finally reached it with his hardened tongue, you let out a surprised gasp.

“Neuvillette!”

Shocks of electrifying pleasure kissed its way up your spine as Neuvillette tongued at your swollen bud—tight, fast circles, up and down, side to side, he toyed with you like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Your hands immediately flew to his ivory tresses due to his ministrations, it was almost like playing a game of tug of war, indecisively pushing and pulling his, unsure if you wanted more or if you wanted him to stop and slow down.

Lewd, wet smacks of Neuvillette’s tongue mixed with his low growls filled the room, allowing you to bask in the sounds of pleasure your lover unabashedly made. Almost akin to a vicious beast swallowing down its prey.

As your back arched off the mattress, and the grip on Neuvillette’s hair tightening, he pulled away, earning a rather disappointed whine to fall from your lips. Sweet arousal abundantly coated his lips and chin, bringing warmth to your cheeks. No one in the room dared to say it but this was the first time your cunt got embarrassingly wet, not that Neuvillette was inadequate in bed per se but you were wetter than usual, and you were confident that he had also noticed.

The glow of his lilac eyes and cerulean feelers were proof enough.

Standing up to his feet, Neuvillette languidly stroked the cock that sat beneath the other one, an immodest gaze raking over your sopping cunt, and how it shamelessly dripped with sticky arousal enough to soil the ivory sheets beneath.

“Are you ready, ma chérie?” Neuvillette’s lilac stare captured you in a haze, absentmindedly nodding at his words as though you were rendered speechless.

He slowly rubbed the tip of his bottom cock before pushing it past your soaked folds, it eagerly swallowed him in—a loud, shameless squelch filling your ears as he stretched you open further. Your toes curled at the sensation, hips immediately bucking into him as you moaned his name. The stretch was a pleasurable burn, one that had you rolling your eyes back, and digging your nails onto the sheets a little harder. Neuvillette was able to easily slip into you, courtesy of the plentiful slick that coated your velvety walls.

Neuvillette stilled as he bottomed out, quick, short pants falling from his rosy lips. God, you always took him so, so well, he could never get enough of the feeling of warmth wrapped around his cock. You took this time to get used to the stretch, your muscles relaxing to lessen the resistance he felt. Neuvillette filled you up so well you could almost feel him in your stomach—a thought that had you clenching around him.

One, two, three seconds later, Neuvillette slowly pulled back, letting out a shaky breath at the pleasurable sensation. And with only his cock head inside you, he took no time to slam all the way inside. You moaned, hands flying to his bare shoulders, immediately marking his pale skin with crimson stripes. Neuvillette unabashedly keened at the clench of your cunt around him, knees buckling as you gripped his cock like a vice, making it harder for him to move in and out.

“Haah! Mhm! Neuvi—right there, my love!” Colourful moans and whimpers urged Neuvillette on, dragging him further and further to the state of insanity. “You feel divine, ma belle . .” The words came out as a choked sob—pathetic and dainty. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead paired with a deep crimson blush that painted his cheeks, if anything, Neuvillette looked absolutely ethereal in this state despite how out of it the aphrodisiacs made him.

Not only were his cocks extra sensitive to touch but he could also perfectly smell the scent of your sex that lingered in the air. That sweet, sinful aroma he knew oh so well.

It made his head spin.

He tried holding back, he really did but your dulcet moans stroked his growing ego, and the feel of your sopping cunt deliciously sliding against him, the last thread of sanity that held him snapped.

Violently.

As if he saw nothing but bright hues of ruby, Neuvillette picked up his pace, long thrusts quickly turning into short ones as he mercilessly pistoned his hips over and over again, allowing his cock head to reach your sweet spot. Your fingers raked down the length of his spine—leaving violent ribbons of red in its wake—stopping right at the dimples of his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you dug onto the pale skin there. Neuvillette wasn’t the only one on the brink of insanity with how the underside of his other cock furiously rubbed at your swollen clit with each thrust, it rested at the hood of your cunt, thick and heavy.

“S-so good! It feels so good—ngh!” The thrust of his hips felt amazing, too amazing to the point where your body started to reject them. Your body entered fight or flight mode, parted knees instinctively closing together which only allowed an inconvenient amount of room for Neuvillette to move with.

Upon noticing the change, he slowed down, sweaty palms resting on either knee, “My love—haah . . Open up for me, would you?” Winded and weak, Neuvillette attempted to pry your knees apart to no avail considering his mushy state.

“Too much, mon chérie . . I—I can’t.” Neuvillette shook his head at your words before pulling out, leaving you confused and empty. From the mattress, you watched as he sauntered over to his side of the bed, grabbing a lengthy, obsidian object that rested against his nightstand. Before a question could even formulate in your mind, he returned to his spot in the blink of an eye; though, this time, with something in his hand.

A cane—his cane. The same one he used during court proceedings, in that context, it was deemed a sacred symbolism of his authority as the Iudex of Fontaine.

To use it in such a setting would be borderline blasphemy.

Hovering over your trembling body, Neuvillette placed chaste kisses on each knee, “Do you trust me, my dear?” Was that even a question? Of course you did. He wouldn’t harm you and you believed that completely.

With a soft touch, Neuvillette was able to easily pry your knees apart, the scent of your cunt once again filling his senses. He wordlessly slotted the obsidian cane beneath your knees, its surface cool against your feverish skin, you shuddered at the contrast in temperature. Neuvillette pushed down on the shaft of the cane, bringing your knees closer to your chest—you also noticed how it kept your legs still, meaning you had no option to close them.

You whimpered at the slight burn the position invited, especially with the cane pressing down on your soft skin. And once again, Neuvillette sheathed his cock inside your cunt before setting the same merciless pace. Only this time, you wouldn’t be able to deny him.

“Neuvi! Neuvi! Neuvi—aah! Fuck—mhm!” You held on to the ivory sheets above your head for your dear life as Neuvillette roughly pistoned his hips. With each relentless thrust given, your body jolted further up the mattress, breasts bouncing in full display for your lover to drink in. Oh, how he adored the way your naked body moved and reacted to him, so plush and pliant.

Sharp hisses from the bed frame interlaced with the pornographic sounds of your moans, creating a lewd melody for the moon to witness, a sinful song only for the darkness of the night to hear—full of heat and passion.

“Does—ngh! Does it feel good, my love? Will you give in to the—haah! To the pleasure I’m giving you?” Neuvillette curled over himself, tresses of ivory cascading down to cage your face as he leaned closer to you. Despite the blur of your vision, you noticed the faint azure scales that decorated the side of his neck along with his pupils becoming more animalistic.

Neuvillette’s draconic features only ever made itself known during his heat; so, this came as a genuine surprise to you. Not that you were really complaining.

His hand remained on his cane while the other found comfort on your hip, subtly guiding your body onto him to meet each thrust. Neuvillette met your gaze through a glossy stare, you watched as beads of crystalline-like tears formed on the corners of his eyes, eventually rolling down his reddened cheeks. The sight before you was beyond divine, it wasn’t every day one would see the Chief Justice in such a poor state, his usual expressionless face painted with a colourful expression.

One that unmistakably screamed how lost he was in pleasure: rosy lips parted to let out soft whimpers, brows tightly knitted together, creating a deep crease between his brows.

“Are you close ma chérie? Mhm—aah! Come with me?” Neuvillette breathed out. It took all of his will power to hold himself up, and keep his hips moving due to immense pleasure weighing on his body like a great burden. The feeling had him trembling to his very bones, like a yellow autumn leaf braving the evening winds, and no matter how much his brain screamed at him to stop, he didn’t.

The pleasure would be too great of a loss if Neuvillette stopped now; so, he kept going—pounding, rutting, and grinding into you as he chased both your impending orgasms.

You nodded vigorously, throat too dry from all that panting to choke out any coherent words. The burn of the position you maintained mixed with Neuvillette’s cocks stimulating your cunt sent you into a painful yet pleasurable overdrive.

Without a second thought, you hastily placed your hands between your bodies, blindly seeking out Neuvillette’s other cock, and wrapping your fingers around it. To the best of your ability, you vigorously pumped his shaft, matching your strokes with his thrusts.

Neuvillette shuddered, releasing a loud moan into the damp air. After a few more quick thrusts, he stilled deep inside you, sealing his lips with yours as you both reached your climax, eagerly swallowing one another’s lewd moans. Your back arched off the mattress, toes curling, and fingers digging into Neuvillette’s skin as you violently came, the feel of his thick, hot cum painting your plush walls white had your hips bucking into him, begging for more.

Embarrassingly enough, Neuvillette came a lot. Not only inside you—to the point where it spilled out of your cunt and onto the sheets below—but also on you. The cock you’ve been stroking spurted thick ribbons of cum on your abdomen, abundantly covering your skin in his essence. He looked at the filthy art that decorated your skin, colourful curses enough to make Fontainians gasp in shock filled his mind.

How beautiful you were marked by him.

“Did I hurt you in any way?” He asked, slowly peeling himself away from you. Neuvillette made sure to quickly remove his cane from under your knees, placing it flat on the floor before tending to you. He kissed your sweaty forehead, and pulled your bodies up the mattress with your head atop the fluffy pillows.

“Not at all but I have to say, I was reaaally looking forward to completing the challenge, mon chérie.” You joked, letting out a breathless laugh.

Neuvillette blushed, suddenly remembering how he readily accepted the proposal of your challenge . . What was it again? No Nut November?

“Another year is to be expected, I am determined we will overcome the challenge.” And you were looking forward to that. Very much so. You just hoped he wouldn’t consume another aphrodisiac-laced sweet in the coming year so the both of you could actually complete the challenge.

Well, at least you concluded that Neuvillette and aphrodisiacs weren’t such a bad match, right?

Looks like you had a certain head nurse to thank. —

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thewritergx · 13 days ago

Text

Lavender Rafe Cameron x F!Reader

Based off this this

Just wanted to say a quick thank you for all the love recently <3

Summary: JJ’s younger sister can't help but fall deeper in love with Rafe. When an explosive fight between the boys breaks out, she is forced to make a choice, her brother or the man that has been sneaking into her room every night for months.

Warnings: Fighting, mentions of blood. SMUT Containing: Soft/Dom Rafe x F!Reader, Slightly Sunshine Reader, Kissing, Fingering, L-bombs, P in V, Creampie, Tiniest amount of anal play, Crying from Overstimulation, Spitting, Choking, Spanking, Praising, Breeding Kink, After Care. Pet Names: Baby, Princess, Good girl, Daddy (like a lot).

Word Count: 6K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @cafekitsune.

The day had started out so pure, waking up in Rafe’s arms, the sun glittering through a crack in your window curtains. His arms gripped you tight, stirring you out of a deep sleep as he planted delicate kissing on your neck, sucking a faint pink spot just above your collarbone. Your eyes calmly fluttered open, sinking into his touch for more.

“Good morning, princess”. Rafe cupped his hand around your chin, his fingers pushing back a strand of messy sleep hair, and attached his lips to yours.

He didn't even care about your morning breath, skillfully pushing his tongue past your lips and engulfing you under his body. You are the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he thought. Not even in a sexy, lustful type of way. In a way like you were a piece of art, handcrafted and sculpted, sitting on display in the museum of his mind.

Fuck, he needed every day to start out like this.

The kiss wasn’t even supposed to lead to this. He just wanted to be close to you, but the way you breathed inaudible little moans into his neck and whispered his name so painfully smooth hexed him.

A true siren, he thought.

You wrapped your arms around the base of Rafe’s neck, fingers ghosting through his buzzed-cut hair. Rafe always thought himself a strong man, a protector, but your touch destroyed him, all the strength in him crashing down to a whining puddle of need.

He looked so good like this, hovered over you and panting into your neck, cold metal rings on his fingers digging into the silky skin of your thighs.

“Oh baby,” Rafe begged, his hips pressing into yours, the thin material of his boxers allowing him to feel the subtle arousal leaking on your panties.

That was it. He needed you.

“Rafe,” you breathed so softly, biting the long sleeve of Rafe’s shirt you had slept in.

“Yeah, princess?” Rafe reached for the line of your panties, spreading your legs as he pulled them to the side, perfect little pussy on display.

“JJ’ll be home soon. He’s gonna see your car,” you mournfully groaned, staring up at Rafe’s parted lips and pleading eyes.

“We have time. I’ll be fast, promise.” Rafe pulled his boxers down, the chill air hitting his hard cock. “Need you now…please”.

You nodded your head in response, Rafe hands easily assassinating any thoughts of JJ coming home.

“Ow”, you whined, watching as Rafe dipped a single digit inside you, hands fighting against the hem of your panties. “Rafey, please”.

Fuck when you called him that…he was nothing but yours.

“Gotta stretch you out a little, baby. Don't wanna hurt you.” Rafe’s eyebrows were focused, watching as your walls gushed around him, arousal soaking his finger. He hooked his finger, pressing right on that spot that drove you crazy, the rings on his hands hitting against your soft skin.

“Cold”, you swallowed and Rafe hummed, gently removing his fingers and pulling his rings off, sitting them nonchalantly on your bedside table. He worked quick, sliding two fingers back inside you, relishing in the warmth of his skin. He could stay right here, like this, forever, if you would let him.

He pumped his fingers in and out, swirling them inside you.

God, he hated this. You should be coming around his fingers, in his mouth, and then around his fingers again before he even dared to think about putting his dick inside you. But he knew he didn't have time, and he cursed himself for not waking you up earlier.

Fucking JJ was always ruining everything.

If he wasn't such a mess right now, he would have taken you without any care, making you scream on his cock until the entire obx knew whose bitch you were. But Rafe fought to be gentle. Most of the time, it was so easy. You were so pure, he never felt the need to get rough, something he never experienced before. For most girls, he had no problem choking, slapping, or bending over and shoving his cock into them. But you were changing him, rewriting his DNA, and turning him into a whimpering mess. The worst part was, he fucking loved it.

Rafe’s hands grabbed at your sides and he worked fast, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a gold package. He opened it with his teeth, grabbing the condom and swiftly pulling it down his dick. Something else he wasn't used to doing before you. He never minded wearing them, as long as you were safe and comfortable. But sometimes he fucking dreamed of sliding in that sweet pussy, no barriers between the two of you, and painting your tight little walls until he was dripping out of you, filling you with his hot seed, and growing a baby.

You picked your hips up some, wrapping your legs just above Rafe’s waist. He lined himself up against you, sliding the tip in so slowly he felt your walls open around him.

Your mouth hung open, soft coys falling from you like lava.

“That's it, baby”. It was torture, sinking inside you this slow, but Rafe knew you were still getting used to him and you needed more time to really open up for him, his finger not enough to truly warm you up. He sunk down, feeling himself hit the back of your pussy, a squelching sound vibrating around the room.

“Oh!”, you cried, dragging your nails down Rafe’s back with a slight hiss. You didn’t know how he was able to do this but the heat in your body was already rising and you felt your pussy crying out for him, sucking him in further as he sat still, waiting and stretching you so much more than you had experienced before him.

“Yes!”, you yelled, legs shaking and body writhing at his touch.

“You cumming already, princess?” Rafe chuckled, “haven’t even moved yet,” He couldn't help but smirk, dragging himself out completely and slamming himself back in.

You nodded your head, unable to speak as your back arched off the bed. You felt your cheeks grow hot, the coil in you ready to pop.

“Yeah?” Rafe smirked. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Pride filled him and your pussy leaked with arousal, like nectar from a wildflower.

Rafe couldn’t get enough of it and before you had a chance to come down from your high, he slammed into you, ripping high-pitched cries from your throat.

He knew you couldn’t be too loud, just in case. So he leaned down, taking his time to explore your mouth deep and sensual. Each movement of your lips is longing and tender like he had been away for years. His breaths are hot and come out as shaky gasps. He falls into the kiss, absorbing your moans and sucking your bottom lips.

His thrusts were faster now, hitting you with the perfect force to rip another orgasm through you, the lights in the room fading as you clenched your eyes shut.

“Fuck, that’s my sweet girl”. Rafe’s breath was hot on your neck “That’s my good little girl”. He dragged his warm hands up your shirt, massaging the velvety skin of your tits and lightly pinching a nipple between his fingers.

And fuck, you knew JJ would be home at any second. It had been so hard keeping Rafe a secret, him sneaking in so quietly, having to wrap his hand around your mouth so you didn’t scream out, and fucking you on the floor so the bed didn’t smack against the wall.

You clenched your walls around Rafe, bearing down your stomach to tighten around his cock.

“Fuck, baby girl”. Rafe’s eyes rolled back, his forehead pressed against yours as you flexed your legs around his waist harder, sinking him in impossibly deeper.

“Goddamn, yes”, Rafe hissed, sucking his teeth against his lips, jaw clenched tight.

“Fucking love you, baby”. His thrust grew faster, hitting you with more force.

“God, I love you so much”, he growled, pressing his lips into yours as thick white ropes of cum shot out of him.

“Ahh, ow”. Your teeth clattered together, your body shaking as he pulled out of you, your chest rising and falling. “L-love y-you t-too,”

God, he didn't want to leave. He stayed above you, peppering you with kisses again. He wanted more of you. But, he ripped his body off the bed, throwing the condom in the trash can next to your desk. Everything told him to stay, wrap his arms around you, and caress your skin until you fell asleep on him again. It felt dirty and wrong sneaking out of your window after you were just wrapped around his cock, crying for him. He wanted to take care of you, wanted to clean you up with his mouth, and wash your body in a steamy shower. He felt like a bad boyfriend, like a little bitch that didn't know how to treat his woman.

“I hate your brother,” Rafe frowned, throwing on a black hoodie and a pair of dark jeans.

“I know,” you laughed, watching as he grabbed all his things.

Rafe leaned down, your body still weak and crumbling, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in and breathing your scent. Vanilla and coconut.

“Love you, baby,” he groaned, forcing himself to open the window and snake his body through.

An immediate sadness filled you, watching as he pulled out of the driveway. You sunk your body back into your bed, the loss of Rafe’s arm making you cold.

Thirty minutes had passed and you had just enough time to get dressed, hearing the sound of JJ knocking on the bedroom door.

“Hungry?”, he asked, carrying in a bag from Heyward’s Seafood.

You sat up, legs slightly sore from your earlier activities.

“God yes,” you smiled, scooting so JJ could sit next to you. He laughed, sitting two drinks down on your bedside table.

JJ's eyes fell on the silver round metal absentmindedly thrown on the table. “What the fuck is this?”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was so bad. JJ had always been your protector, hovering over you like a bodyguard protecting celebrities from the paparazzi.

“Whose fucking rings are these?” he scowled, a venom rising in his voice.

“Nobodies. Give them to me”, you yelped, trying to stop JJ from picking them up.

You struggled for a moment and JJ snatched one from your hand quickly, silently inspecting the inside to see the name “Cameron” engraved on the inside.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me” JJ stood, running his hands through his blonde hair.

“Please tell me Rafe Cameron was not in my fucking house.” JJ was fully yelling now, looking at you like you had just stabbed him in a vital organ.

You didn't know what to say and you swore you might have been having a heart attack, chest tightening, and the room spinning.

“JJ, it's not what you think”. You followed as JJ stomped through the house, his fist in balls.

“Not what I think?” JJ yelled again, throwing on a pair of shoes. “Did he fucking touch you? Are you okay?” JJ spiral, looking you up and down for any marks or scratches.

His eyes twitched, his skin turning a ghostly white. “Is that a fucking hickey?”

“It's not like that.” You yell back. “He loves me”.

“You think that psychopath loves you?” JJ laughed, grabbing his keys and slamming the screen door, a loud screech echoing throughout the home.

“He's not a psychopath”. You chased after him, unable to keep up with his fast pace.

“Stop. Go back to the fucking house. I’m serious.” JJ practically screamed, his eyes dark and he swore he was seeing red hot blood.

“Where are you going?” you screamed, watching as JJ climbed into the Twinkie, turning on the engine and speeding away.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

JJ didn’t even know where to go, but he promised himself, that the second he found Rafe, he was going to kill him.

After what seemed like an eternity, he found the Cameron boy, sitting at a table with friends. He locked his sights on Rafe, rage consuming him. He didn't care that the restaurant was crowded, didn't even care if he got arrested for assault.

Rafe spotted him a mile away, the tires of the Twinkie screeching in the parking lot made JJ pretty obvious. He almost ignored the blonde boy, but he could see by the strides in JJ’s walk and his tense shoulders, something was off.

“JJ, don’t do this man,” Rafe yelled, putting his hands up as a sign of protest. He had promised you that he wouldn't fight JJ again, and breaking a promise with you was something he didn't plan on doing today.

Rafe stayed glued to his chair, even as JJ stomped toward him.

“Get up,” JJ shouted, the crow around them growing eerily quiet and still. “You think you can just come into my house and fuck my little sister like some slut?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He breathed calmly, trying to stop his body from the violence it was always quick to turn to. “What did you just fucking call her?” Rafe’s skin boiled.

“She thinks you fucking love her” JJ laughed, throwing Rafe’s rings at him, hitting him in the arm.

“Dude, you need to back off before you start some shit you can't take back” Rafe looked around, standing from his chair and taking a step closer to JJ.

“Nah, I don't think I will” JJ was quick to throw a punch, landing it hard on Rafe’s eye. He stumbled back, body falling on the side of a table for balance.

Rafe’s expression hardened, his jaw clenched tight, and fist locked into balls. As much as he wished he could, he wouldn't let that shit go. He regained his balance fast, and wrapped his arms around JJ, tackling him onto the ground with a loud ‘thud’.

The two boys thrashed around the floor, bodies struggling to pull each other off until Rafe finally pinned JJ down. He grabbed the collar of JJ’s shirt, blowing punches as JJ struggled under him, blood pooling at his lip. Rafe was careful, not using any real strength, but still causing some damage. The crowd gasped, and security rushed to pull the boys off of each other.

“Don’t fucking come near her again or I swear to god I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you”: JJ screamed, two men pulling him in the opposite direction.

Hours had passed and your phone was blowing up. You watched your screen flash over and over again, texts from Rafe, your friends, and even Topper. JJ finally came home, face covered in bruises and his eyes swollen.

You knew your relationship with Rafe would have consequences but you didn’t expect them to be quite this severe.

“Baby, I’m sorry”, lit up on the screen, the simple short sentence enough to stop your anger in its tracks, like the flame of a candle quickly blown out. You knew you should text him back, but you wouldn’t give up that easily. You sat your phone down, silencing it for the next couple of hours while you lay in bed.

You tried so hard to go to sleep, your mind racing and body aching. It was weird, ignoring Rafe. More texts had come through, Rafe telling you how much he loved you, that he was sorry, that he would make it up to you if you would just talk to him.

As much as you wanted to stay mad, your body was starving for him. You knew he was probably feeling like shit.

You ripped your body from your mattress, threw on a sweatshirt, and quietly sneaked out the front door. The walk to Rafe’s house was a quiet one, the breeze softly flowing through your hair in the moonlight.

You found the huge house quick, praying that Rafe was still awake.

You had been here before, but your heart pounded in your chest as you found Rafe's window, slowly pushing up on the glass. The room was dark and quiet except for the subtle breathing from Rafe.

“What are you doing?” He shot up in the dark, quickly turning on the light and grabbing your hand as you stepped inside the room.

“I-I couldn't sleep,” you coyed, playing with your finger in your hands.

“Me either.” Rafe sat on his bed, quietly watching as you stood in front of him. “Come here,” he softly demanded, tapping his lap.

You tried to get a sense of what he was thinking but he was so closed off in the moment, you couldn't figure out any of his emotions.

Rafe positioned you on top of him, placing you around his left leg. “I’m sorry, baby.” His hands fell to your sides and you locked your arms around him.

“I know. It’s okay. Just needed to see you”. You pulled him closer, placing a kiss on his lips. You relaxed into him, a moan escaping you as he licked at your lips, swapping his salvia with yours in a heated dance.

Rafe broke the kiss, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Missed me, huh? Didn't get enough earlier?”

“Yeah,” you whined, watching Rafe’s hands travel to your thigh, rubbing smooth circles with his thumb on your sweatpants.

“I know baby, I know”. Rafe reached for your shoes, roughly pulling them off and throwing them in the corner of the room. He stood you up, pulling off your sweatpants and snaking his fingers down the hem of your panties, before repositioning you on his leg.

He planted kisses back on your neck, sucking hard and biting at your skin. Suddenly he realized he could make the marks as dark as he wanted, show everyone whose girl you were, who you belonged to. You wiggled under him, his bare skin pressing against your pussy.

You grined your hips softly, Rafe’s hands reaching to pull off your sweatshirt., “Mmh”, you withered, the smooth skin of Rafe’s thighs slick with your juices as you rubbed your clit against his tensing muscles. Rafe reached for your hips, pushing and pulling you so you rocked harder against him, the added pressure pushing your body down harder.

“That’s a good girl. Ride my thigh.” You threw your head onto his shoulders, mouth falling open.

“No, no.” Rafe grabbed your chin. “Let me watch you” He locked his eyes on yours.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight, the vein in his neck noticeably swollen.

“R-Rafe,” You sighed, body hot. “I d-don’t k-know”.

“I’ve been good to you, right?” Rafe spoke, his voice emotionless and still, something you didn't recognize. He looked like a statue, eyes staring down at you as you wiggled in his lap, his hand coming to cup your chin, forcing you to stare up at him.

“Y-yes, you t-treat me…t-treat m-me so well”, you answered honestly, focusing on the dark bruise under his eye. You felt your pussy practicing dripping, a pool of your arousal on his thigh.

“Yeah? You know I love you, baby?” he swiped his thumb over your mouth, pulling the plump skin of your bottom lip down slightly.

You nodded your head, breathing becoming stranded as your body tightened.

“I do. I love you more than anything. But I think I need to teach you a lesson. I think you need to learn who's in charge here, huh?” Rafe dipped his thumb in your mouth, your soft tongue grazing the callous skin of his finger pads.

“Fuck, Rafe!” You nodded your head again, your hips moving uncontrollably. You swirled your tongue around his thumb, sucking and lightly grazing your teeth over him.

“That’s it. Cum for me baby” Rafe growled, watching the way your body moved so harshly against him.

Rafe just stared, the boiling need he had been repressing for so long finally erupting. It was the side of him he had worked so hard to make sure you never saw. But at this moment, he didn't care. You were his, all his, and if you thought you could just ignore him all day, you had another thing coming.

“Get on your knees.”

You followed his instructions without a word, watching as Rafe pulled off his boxers.

Your blood ran cold, cheeks flustered and legs weak from the orgasm. He was so gorgeous, the tip of his cock a dark shade of pink and slightly curved up.

You stared for a moment, trying to hype yourself up. Head was never your strong suit, and honestly, Rafe hardly asked for it. He stood like a rock, pumping his hard cock above you, your pretty eyes locked on him.

“Put your hands behind your back” Rafe stepped closer, grabbing at the ends of your hair and holding it in a make-shirt ponytail. You weren’t sure what to make of it, but you did as you were told, a hint of fear behind your eyes.

You nodded your head, and slowly put your hands behind your back, your knees digging into the carpet as you opened your mouth. Rafe rubbed his cock against your plump lips, precum shining on your lips as you lightly kissed the tip of his penis and licked the slit.

“Fuck,” Rafe groaned, his hands pushing tight in your hair as you wrapped your lips delicately around the head of his cock. His sounds set you on fire, confidence striking you. You bobbed your head deeper, taking him in smoothly.

“Tap my thigh twice if you need to,” His hands in your hair pushed you down until you were gagging around him and you fought to keep your throat relaxed. Your mouth was wide open, jaw painfully stretched as his cock hit the back of your throat with a vengeance, small tears forming in the corner of your eyes and tenderly falling down your cheek, Saliva filled your mouth, running down your chin and onto the base of Rafe’s cock. You had never, never done anything like this before. You tried to stay calm, keep your teeth away from Rafe's sensitive member.

“Fuck, Princess”, Rafe’s thrust were deep, the force causing you to gag and the sound echoing around the room. “Taking me so well. Didn’t even know you could fucking do this,” Rafe hissed between gritted teeth, pushing your shoulders so your mouth popped off his dick. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up. Rafe leaned into you, spitting into your mouth like a pro. His saliva was warm, filling your mouth and falling from your chin before he was wrapping you back around his cock. This time impossibly rougher and the tears continued to stream down, your throat threatening to close at any moment.

“Get on the bed,” Rafe demanded, pulling you to your feet and pushing you so you landed with a soft thud. He dragged a hand from your neck to your breast. Your heart pounded in your chest, and something told you, you were meeting the Rafe that everyone had warned you about. Every nerve in your body was shot, and goosebumps tainted your skin.

“Don’t fucking move,” Rafe demands, hand gripping down on my stomach. You nod in silence and stay as still as possible as he brings his hands between your legs, forcing you to spread them apart.

“Think I need to give you a safeword. How about lavender”. He stood above you, eyes dark but a hint of sincerity behind them.

“Okay,” you gasp, watching as Rafe shoves a finger inside you, with no warning.

“Goddamn, look at that pretty cunt”, Rafe huffs, the air hitting your core as he spreads your lips apart. He presses against your soft walls with a devilish force, sending chills through your entire body “So messy already. Gonna let me leave you dripping?”

You whimper and nod your head in response, a need growing as he begins to apply more pressure to his movements. You feel your walls clench around his fingers, eager for him to open you up more.

Rafe lets out a soft “Yeah, you are” and begins to pump his finger in and out sending a squelching arousal down your legs. You try your hardest to stay still and relax into his touch, but Rafe is quick to add a second finger, hooking them up to hit your g-spot relentlessly. A look of complete focus covers Rafe’s face, his eyebrows furrowed and lips locked tight.

“Fuck yes! Don’t stop.” Your cries grow louder and your hips develop an involuntary bucking motion, Rafe's fingers hitting you hard and rough. He was like an animal and you were the prey. He brought another hand to your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb and adding a sensation that sends you over the edge. “That’s it, cum on my fingers Princess,” he groans, fingers moving fast and rough.

Your thighs hug his wrist, clenching together subconsciously.

“Fucking keep them open,” Rafe growls, his motions showing no signs of stopping or acknowledgment about the thick white creamy liquid coating the bottom of his fingers.

“Fuck, Rafe. P-Please. Just need you inside me, please,” you whine, your legs already shaky and weak.

“I’ll fuck you when I’m ready. Shut up and take my fingers,” he states emotionlessly like he’s completely unaffected by your pleas and cries for more.

“Ahh!” you bite my lip hard, his fingers too rough after the wave of pleasure that just washed over you. Rafe loses his mind at your dripping cunt, placing his mouth around your clit and sucking hard before flicking his tongue.

“Oh my god, Daddy!” You didn't even process the name, didn’t even mean to say it.

Rafe growls, spitting on your clit and quickly devouring it again. “Good girl. This my fucking pussy?” Rafe mumbles, licking stripes between your folds. His fingers continue at an inhumane pace, sending shocks of pleasure too intense for you to handle.

“Yes, daddy. It’s yours!" You practically scream. “God, I’m going to cum again. R-Rafe, please, t-too mu-much,” Your fingers dig into his hair, pulling at him aggressively.

“You can take it. Cum on my mouth like a good girl.” Rafe growls, the demand in his tone rough and strong. His fingers leave a sloppy echo in the air, sounds of your wetness bouncing off the walls. You buck your hips into his mouth, wet thick arousal dripping down your legs and Rafe has to hold you down, his hand moving from your clit to apply rough pressure to your stomach. “God, you taste fucking amazing.” Rafe sits up, sliding his forearm behind your back, giving him easy access to pull you into another kiss, lips soft and plump against his. You taste yourself on him, sweet and salty.

“Get on all fours,” he states plainly, helping you flip over.

Rafe placed a hand on your back, spreading your legs a bit wider and pulling you back so your ass hung perfectly in the air.

You arched your back more, feeling Rafe line up with your swollen pink lips. “Oh, fuck”, you cried as Rafe sunk inside in one quick motion, so deep his balls rested against your clit.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah” You moaned, voice strained, and head deep in the pillow under you

“Doing so well for me. Such a sweet girl,” he whispered, slowly pulling out the tip of his cock, hands reaching to pull your hair back hard.

“Thank you, daddy.” You cried, the feeling of him hitting your G-spot already causing your legs to shake around him.

“Mmh, you’re welcome baby,” Rafe was a mess inside his own head, your warm pussy invading every crevice of his mind, but on the outside, he appeared collected and calm.

He couldn't believe you were taking him like this, letting him do whatever the fuck he wanted to you. He felt himself get brave, pressing his thumb inside your puckered hole, the skin warm and tight around him.

“Ow!” You screamed, trying to pull away from him.

“Stop fucking running. Arch that back baby,” Rafe growled, pulling your hair harder so you had to sit back on him.

“Fuck, you like my thumb in your ass? Dirty fucking slut, letting me ruin you, huh?” Rafe threw his head back, pumping into you on a mission, his hips slapping against you hard. Rafe brought his hand down, landing on your ass with an echoing ‘slap’. A bright red hand print already started to form, your skin stinging.

“Ahh! Ow,” cried, unable to keep the tears from spilling out any longer.

Rafe felt a sting of guilt and he couldn't exactly tell if your cries were from pain or pleasure.

“Do you need to say the safe word, baby girl?” He slowed his thrust, his voice softening

“No, Daddy, God! D-Don’t stop, please. Please don't stop, daddy.” You couldn't help it and you bucked your hips back, bouncing your ass against him and loud claps ringing in your ears.

“Such a good fucking slut, taking me like this. Bet you wouldn’t care if I came inside you, huh? Have you falling asleep with my cum dripping out of you?” Rafe’s thrust grew impossibly harder, hitting the back of your pussy like he hated you, like he wanted to hurt you.

You nodded your head, the sounds of your wetness filling your ears. You have never been this wet before. “Yes! Please”, you cried, feeling another orgasm threatening to spill out of you. Your thoughts were so clouded you didn't even realize Rafe was fucking you raw.

“Oh fuck, really?” Rafe smirked, grabbing your hands so he could put them behind your back, his hips fucking you completely into the mattress. “Gonna let me cum inside you, sweet girl?”

You nodded your head, unable to speak with your head pressed into your pillow, orgasm hitting you hard. Arousal soaked so thick inside you Rafe had to pull his cock out, splashes of your juices landing on his stomach and dripping down.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl. Squirt on daddy's cock”. Rafe slammed back inside you, immediately continuing his torturous pace, dick slapping into you like a rock.

“I’m sorry, daddy” You were completely fucked out, drunk on the stretch of your ass and pussy. You didn’t even know what you were saying, didn’t even process what was happening. “I’m so sorry I ignored you. Won't ever do it again.” You struggled to speak, your voice horse and rough.

“I know, baby.” Rafe groaned, his breath heavy and strained, sweat dripping down his chest. “I know you're sorry.” Rafe placed a kiss on your shoulder, leaning down and gently pulling out of you. You moaned at the loss of him, chest panting.

“Turn over,” Rafe hovered over you, hooking his arms around your legs and pulling them over his shoulders.

He leaned down, grabbing the base of his cock and lining himself up to your entrance. His eyes locked on yours as he pressed himself back inside you, lips crashing against yours in a hungry passion, teeth clashing together.

His hands caress over your body as if he's memorizing every inch of you, his previous roughness replaced by a tender touch, leaning down to place gentle kisses on your tits. His mouth latches onto you, sucking gently and swirling his tongue around your swollen bud, teasing and playing.

“So fucking soft and sweet,” Rafe moans, using a hand to massage your other nipple. His fingers move delicately, pinching and pulling at it softly. You try not to squirm too much under him, but your hips move involuntarily, his body weight holding down as he thrusts softly inside you.

“Harder,” you moaned, needing him to completely wreck you.

“Yeah? Need it deeper?” Rafe chuckled, picking himself up off his hands and slamming into you, matching his earlier speed. “Think you can handle more of this?”

“Fuck, Rafe!” your walls clenching so tight around him, the muscles in your stomach and chest were sore, as he pumped in and out. Rafe’s hand traveled up to your throat squeezing with a deadly force as wetness dripped out of you.

Your legs shook, back arching off the bed as your vision went black, air escaping you. You dug your nails into Rafe’s back, scratching bright red lines down him until he was hissing in pain. “T-too m-much,” you breathed out, voice strained by the tight fingers wrapped around you.

Rafe reluctantly let go, his hands traveling down to your waist. “Fuck, baby. So fucking tight,” “Stay right there. Just like that.” Rafe growled, his thrust becoming obviously uneven, just as hard but messy and uncalculated. His fingers dug into your skin as he bit his lip, dropping his head into your neck.

“Love you, baby,” he whispered, painting the inside of your walls with his cum. Fuck, no one had ever come inside you before.

“God, Rafe,” You shuddered at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you as he slowly pulled out. Your body shook violently, the feeling of his cock deep in your cunt still attacking your mind. He stayed motionless before you, placing a light kiss on your cheek, and carefully rolling you over. He placed your head on his chest, wrapping his arms tight around you before pulling the blankets over you.

“You okay?” Rafe mumbled, all out of breath and exhausted. “Did I hurt you?” his tone was lined with fear, his fingers trembling as he lightly caressed your arm.

You were still gasping at his touch, tears slowly falling down your cheek. “N-No, f-felt so g-good,” you cried, trying to breathe through the orgasms that still echoed on your skin.

“I’m sorry about JJ. I just, I couldn't let him talk about you like that” Rafe fluttered his eyes open, kissing your forehead.

“It’s, i-it’s o-okay,” you whispered, unable to move or react much to Rafe’s words.

Rafe whispered soft shh's, his mind racing as you cried into him. Fuck, this was why he never did this. He was so scared, scared he hurt you or pressured you, or did anything you wouldn’t like. You were always a mess after you had sex, but something looked broken in you right now. Rafe pulled you tighter against him and you gasped with every movement, the fear building inside him until he was just as much of a mess as you were.

“Baby, please. Just calm down, just breathe. You’re okay, I got you.” Rafe didn't know if he was really saying it to you or himself, and he felt his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He swore an hour had passed before you had finally stopped shaking, your legs only slightly trembling, and your breathing finally at a normal rate.

“I’m good, Rafe. I promise. It was just…a lot” you mumbled, cheeks all flustered and voice shy. He held you until you were asleep in his arms, too afraid to move you like you were a piece of glass that might break.

You were so sore the next day, you didn't want to walk. Bright pink hickies lined your skin, and you were sure your throat was bruised. But you fucking loved it, loved that you would feel him for days. Loved that you could finally show him off.

1K notes · View notes

sceletaflores · 5 months ago

Text

slippery when wet!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: “so who fucks better?” he asks bluntly, a bead of sweat dripping down the column of his throat and into the neck of his tank. a shocked laugh bursts from your lips. “what?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “who fucks better?” he repeats slowly, leaning down to meet your eye. “me or art? don’t fucking lie to me and tell me that prissy farmer boy makes you come harder than i do.”

—or: patrick puts you in your place three months later.

word count: 4.3k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, p in v, fighting as foreplay, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), rough sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering...kinda (fem!receiving), very light spanking, choking, degradation, creampie, throat fucking, mean!reader my beloved, art donaldson is there in spirit, patrick is gay for art, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: no one can stop me from writing rough sex patrick fics. it's all i think about 24/7, and you guys are no help but like i love it so it's fine. i'm here to serve you and this is clearly what you want so who am i to deny you that? thank you to the beautiful anon who requested this, i hope you don't mind that i changed it from a locker room scene to a bathroom scene but that was just calling to me hehe. okay bye! hope you love it! xoxo mwah.

psst! tftw series masterlist!

You’ve been on the court for at least an hour and a half, running drills and trying to sweat out all of your stress. You were the only one in the building, but it was always less busy during finals week. Most people were camped out in their dorms cramming for fifty question tests or four part lab practicals.

Art politely declined your invite, too busy studying for his business final on Monday. So you rented a tennis machine and worked on your backhand that way. It was a nice distraction, emptying your head enough that all the anxiety of finals started to melt away as you slid into a steady rhythm with the machine.

The door bangs open with a loud creak behind you, bursting the little bubble of tranquility surrounding you. The back of your head burns with the unmistakable feeling of someone glaring at you.

You hear him before you see him, a loud call of your name followed by heavy footsteps quickly coming towards you. The sound of his voice immediately grates on your nerves, all angry and shouty. You choose to ignore it, focusing on hitting each new ball the machine spits out.

It may have been a couple months since you’ve seen Patrick, but you’d always recognize the familiar way his voice wraps around each syllable in your name.

Three months, to be exact. It’s been three months since your big fight over the phone with Patrick. You blocked his number right after you hung up, so you haven’t spoken to him in just as long. He never tried to reach out, never messaged you on AOL or Facebook. The petty fuck actually went out of his way to unfriend you on both, so you knew he wasn’t exactly torn up about your abrupt split.

“Hey! I’m talking to you,” Patrick shouts over the loud humming, sounding closer to you than he was before. You pointedly keep ignoring him, eyes fixed stubbornly on the machine. “You deaf or something?” he mocks, stepping up so you can see him in your peripheral vision. You say nothing, swinging your racket harder with each hit.

Patrick scoffs, stomping over to the machine and slamming his hand over the stop button. It makes a loud beeping sound, before shutting off completely. “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking baby.” you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance. When you finally turn to glare at him, you’re shocked at the state he’s in.

Patrick’s dressed in a tank and the almost too short shorts he’d usually wear to a match, and he’s dripping sweat. Curly black hair plastered to his forehead with it, his cheeks red and blotchy like he’d been in the sun. You raise your brow, looking at him with a confused expression on your face. “Where the hell did you even come from? How did you know I was here?”

He walks back over to you, hands balled into fists by his side. “I was at a tournament in Mountain View,” he explains, jerking his head in the vague direction he came from, ”it was so close I thought it’d be wrong of me to not stop by and check up on you.”

You laugh, nodding your head lightly. “Okay, so you flunked out of another tournament and hunted me down like a creepy stalker to what? Yell at me some more? Call me a cunt again?” you step closer, lightly swishing your racket through the air dismissively. “I’m not fucking interested in whatever it is you have to say Patrick, we’re over.”

He smirks but you can see the way his jaw clenches, ticking in anger. “But you’re interested in what Art has to say?”

There it is. You really should have known it would all come back to this eventually.

You sigh, casting your eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. “What’s your point?”

Patrick takes a step closer. “My point is that you’re not fucking stupid, and Art can’t lie to save his goddamn life. You knew exactly what he was doing.” His tone is accusatory, his brows pinched together hard enough to crease his skin.

Your heart beat picks up in your chest, anger beginning to bubble up inside you. “I didn’t need Art’s help to realize that you’re an arrogant piece of shit and a gigantic waste of my time, you made it easy enough to pick up on all by yourself.”

Patrick laughs, loud and abrasive. “No, you just didn’t care.” he states darkly, shaking his head back and forth a few times. You can feel a few drops of sweat fling from his hair to land on the bare skin of your shoulders as he does. “You’re so easy that you’d spread your legs from him to stroke your own ego. You’re only playing into his whole kicked puppy charade to justify acting like a fucking whore, ‘Poor Art, he’s so sad and pathetic, I’ll let him fuck my slutty pussy to help his raise his self esteem!’.” He mocks, voice pitched up in an exaggerated impression of you.

Your grip tightens on the handle of your racket, knuckles turning white with it. You feel hot all over, anger simmering under your sweaty skin. “You’re seriously trying to lecture me about egos? This has nothing to do with Art! This is about you being a bratty little rich boy who’s never been told ‘no’ before so you can’t handle rejection. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

Patrick nostrils flare, brows pinching together in anger. “Art has nothing to do with this, really? You’re delusional if you actually think that he’s just this saint among men or some shit. He’s not, he’s a fucking snake.”

“Trust me, Art doesn’t have to be a saint to be better than you.” you sneer, voice sharp and unwavering. Your hands are shaking, blind rage racking through your body like thunder. “The only redeeming quality you’ll ever have is dangling between your legs so you better get used to this, because sooner or later everyone will leave you once they see past all your bullshit and realize that you’re nothing more than a worthless loser.”

Patrick’s jaw works furiously, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. You think something like hurt flashes through his eyes, but only for a second. It's gone just as fast, replaced by a mocking smirk that stretches over his lips slowly. He crosses his arms in front of him, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“So who fucks better?” he asks bluntly, a bead of sweat dripping down the column of his throat and into the neck of his tank.

A shocked laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. “What?” you ask, arms dropping to your sides limply. The completely one-eighty of his mood sends your head reeling.

Patrick takes another step closer, invading your personal space. “Who fucks better?” he repeats slowly, leaning down to meet your eye. “Me or Art? Don’t fucking lie to me and tell me that prissy farmer boy makes you come harder than I do.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, everything is always a dick measuring contest with you. It’s so pathetic like, seriously–”

“Answer the question.” Patrick demands, cutting you off sharply. He’s practically looming over you now, so close that you can smell him. That natural, manly, musky scent he always has after a game that drives you fucking crazy.

It reminds you of when he’d come back to your dorm fresh off a match, still in the same clothes and not showered. Pumped full of adrenaline and so pent up, needing something to take his energy out on. You were always that something. He’d fuck your mouth like he’d fuck your pussy, like it was just another hole for him drain his balls into. You’d be face down in his crotch for what seemed like hours, right where his smell was the strongest. Forced to breathe it in so deeply you’d feel high off it, your brain turned to mush every time.

Heat swirls deep in your stomach, you haven’t been this close to Patrick in what seems like forever. You kind of forgot how much he affects you, especially like this. The sex was always better when you’d fight before.

“You’re a child.”

“You still haven’t answered the question.”

You huff, narrowing your eyes at him. There’s a sort of crazed look on his face, his pupils blown out and dark. It makes you pause, it’s the look you’d get right before he’d pounce on you. You’ve seen it enough times to know that something is different about it. He looks needier, more hungry.

It has some of your anger subsiding, twisted amusement swiftly taking its place. If Patrick wants to ambush you like this, after weeks of radio silence, you might as well use it as a chance to fuck with him.

You smirk, cocking your head to the side slightly. “Art,” you say slowly, taking a small step towards Patrick, “is a better fuck than you ever were.”

Patrick pouts like an honest to God child, sticking out his bottom lip in indignation. “I told you not to lie–”

“I’m not lying,” you say innocently, voice dropping down to a whisper as you lean in even closer. You can see the freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks, darker than usual thanks to all the sun he’s been getting. “Last night he ate me out for hours, made me squirt all over his fucking tongue.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Patrick Zweig is shocked into silence. His eyes darken, you can’t even see the green anymore, the solid black of his pupils swallowing it entirely. “Bullshit,” he says quietly, clipped and skeptical. His breath fans hotly over your lips, it makes your spine start to tingle.

You smile sweetly, giving a small shrug of your shoulders. “I’ll send you the video.”

Patrick physically reels back, blinking slowly with the realization of what you just said. His lips barely part in surprise, pink and enticing. You revel in it, smirking at him smugly. His eyes flit across your face like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying or not. You stare back at him unrelenting, all the proof you need is sitting in the video gallery of your pink motorola razr.

Patrick swallows hard, you watch the way his adam’s apple bobs with it. He shifts his lower body subtly, but you’re too close to not notice it. Your eyes immediately dart down, and you’re almost giddy at what you find.

He’s hard, the fabric of his shorts stretched over the length of his dick obscenely. You can see the faint outline of the tip pressing against the seam, a wet patch seeping through the gray material around it.

“Oh my god, you’re actually getting off on this!” you laugh wickedly, eyes glued to the lewd tent of his dick. “You’re calling me a whore when you’re the one getting wet just thinking about your best friend's mouth on my pussy. That’s fucking pathetic even for you, Ricky.”

Patrick is silent, breathing heavily through his nose as he stares you down so intensely you can almost feel the heavy weight of his eyes as they bore into you.

It happens in less than a second, Patrick closing the distance between you and taking your arm in his strong hand so he can force you in the direction of the showers. His grip is tight on your bicep, fingers meanly digging into your skin and forcing you to walk with him. You put up a fight, kicking and scratching but he’s stronger than you. Not letting your slaps to his chest or nails sinking into his arm deter him from dragging you across the court.

“Let me go asshole!” you snap, trying in vain to yank your arm out of his grip while you stumble over your own feet. “You’re such a fucking psycho!” Patrick ignores you, bursting into the men's showers and marching you into the first stall. He drags you inside, whirling you around to shove your back against the door of it roughly. It knocks the wind out of you for a second, the lock digs into your back hard enough to hurt.

“Art doesn’t have any fucking idea how to deal with a bitch like you.” he grates, fisting a handful of your harshly. “He’s too soft. Too busy letting you lead him around by his dick to try putting you in your fucking place.”

The sting of your scalp only adds to the warmth pulsing in your pussy, sticky arousal dripping wet in your panties. You meet his eyes, all the fire and want swirling in them mirror your own. “Art has a bigger dick than you bitch.” You spit, standing on your tiptoes to lessen the distance of him tugging on your hair. It’s a low blow, immature and basic but you don’t care.

Patrick just hum noncommittally, roughly hooking his fingers into your cheeks and dragging you forward until the tip of your nose is touching his. “Then your throat is still nice and stretched out for me.”

He drops his hands to your shoulders, forcing you onto your knees. You hit the ground with a heavy thud, a dull ache blooms in your knees at the force of it. “Fuck,” you hiss, pulling back instinctively but the hard plastic of the shower door pressing onto the back of your head keeps you pinned in place. Your hands fly up to his legs to try and push him away.

Patrick grips your hair tight, tipping your face up to look at him. You have a perfect view of him pushing his shorts down, letting his hard dick slip out as the fabric stretches taught across his thick thighs. “Open your mouth,” he demands, yanking your head to the side meanly.

“Fuck you,” you snarl, teeth bared in anger as you fight to stand up. Patrick’s strong hand on your shoulder keeps you down while the other starts to idly stroke his dick. He’s just as big as you remember, thick and hard only a few inches away from your face.

The tip all red and weepy when he pulls his foreskin back on each tug, a thick vein running up the side that you want to trace with your tongue.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he coos softly, rubbing his leaking tip across your bottom lip a couple times, smearing his pre-come around your mouth like lip gloss. “We both know you love it.”

He’s so cocky, so sure of himself that you want to keep denying him. But he’s also right, you can feel your resolve slowly start to crack when he pushes the head between your parted lips. The familiar heady taste of him oozing onto your tongue has you sighing contently, jaw relaxing the tiniest bit almost like a reflex.

The second you give Patrick an inch and he’ll take a mile.

“There we go,” he mutters sweetly, pulling back slightly and then thrusting forward until your nose is buried in the short curls at the base.

Your whole body tenses, throat constricting over the length of his dick as your fist his shorts in your hands. As quickly as he thrust in, he pulls out, letting you sharply gasp for air before it’s back and pressing insistently on your tongue. You let him in, forcing your throat to relax as he slides forward to press his hips into your face.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he bites out, thrusting down your throat roughly. “Pussy’s so greedy it jumped on the next dick that perked up around it.”

You could only whine around Patrick’s dick, mouth too full to do anything but try and work your tongue over the throbbing length of him.

Your throat burns, spit flowing down your chin messily along with his pre-come still steadily leaking from the hot tip of his dick.

His big hands have an iron grip on either side of your head, his balls slap against your chin as he thrusts over and over and over. The back of your skull throbs, knocking into the stall with each pump of his hips.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead down to the stall with a small thunk. “You look so good like this,” he breathes, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes, “so fucking pretty with my dick down your throat to shut you up.”

Your pussy aches, so empty that you want to shove your hand down your shorts and stuff yourself full of your own fingers to dull the need. Your thighs glide together slickly, the wetness of your arousal soaking through your clothes.

It gets harder to breathe. Your choked off, spluttering gags start loudly echoing off the tile walls. Your hand slaps Patrick’s thigh a few times, he thrusts hard once more before he finally pulls back, smearing spit all over your tongue and out of your mouth.

“God, that was good baby.” he praises, slapping his dick against your right cheek lewdly. “As much as I want to pump this load down your throat,” he says casually, stroking his spit slick dick lazily, ”I want it in your pussy more.”

“I fucking hate you,” you growl weakly, voice absolutley wrecked. The tears sitting in your waterline blur your vision, you blink them away to see Patrick’s smug smile beaming down at you.

“Then tell me to stop,” he shrugs, tilting his head to the side condescendingly. You glare up at him, but you don’t say anything. He snorts, brow raising in amusement. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He shoves his shorts the rest of the way down, stepping out of them and hauling you up to your feet. You’re still desperately trying to catch your breath, chest heaving as you cough and gasp.

Patrick rips your shirt over your head, flinging it over the stall along with his own. He turns you by your shoulder, pushing you against the wall as he yanks the shower handle to start the stream.

Water rains down around you, shockingly cold for a few seconds before it finally starts to warm up. Patrick makes quick work of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and off your feet, tossing them in the corner of the stall with a wet thwack.

He kicks your feet further apart, one hand on your shoulder and the other lining his hard dick up with your tight hole, letting the leaking tip press into you with the smallest amount of pressure.

“I know you missed my dick, slut,” he says, bringing his hand down on your ass quickly, kneading the stinging skin roughly. “Art could be the best fuck in the world, he still can’t give it to you like I can.” He pops the head in, groaning quietly before he bullies his thick dick the rest of the way into you.

Your hole shakes around him. Patick is right. Patrick is always right, but you’d never tell him that. You wanted this. You missed this. The burn of Patrick’s dick forcing you open, stretching you so wide your toes curl. Him not giving you even a second to react before he’s pulling back and pounding into you brutally.

You cry out, eyes screwing shut at the sharp sting. You can tell through the haze of you brain that this won’t take long at all, the both of you already so worked up from Patrick fucking your throat. His right hand drops from your shoulder to your hip while his left slides up your torso, sliding along your skin to wrap around the column of your throat firmly. You keen loudly, throwing your head back to give him more room.

“I taught him how to use that fucking dick,” he goads into your ear, grip tightening on your throat. “Did he tell you about that? Huh?” He takes your earlobe between your teeth, biting hard enough to make you squeal into the wall.

The tile digs into your cheek, roughly scraping against your skin every time Patrick fucks back into you.

You’re hovering over the edge, pussy throbbing with the burning need to come. Your clit pulses, swollen and sensitive but you can’t find the strength to drop your down hand between your thighs.

They’re too busy scrambling for any kind of purchase on the slippery wall of the shower, manicured nails scratching against the tile uselessly.

You gasp for air, fighting to speak up under the intense pressure of his hand, “I could tell,” you choke out, barely audible, “you both fuck like you have something to prove.”

“You think?” he sneers, thrusting harder, your ass stinging each time he slams his hips into you. “Maybe that’s because we do. Maybe that’s because we both like seeing you fucking fall apart like this, seeing you beg for it after you finally stop being a little pissy bitch.”

Your breath hitches as his other hand drops from your hip, delving between your thighs to slide the calloused pads of his fingertips over your swollen clit.

You moan, thighs clenching together as he rubs fast circles over you. “You like that, don’t you? Being used like a fucking toy.” His hand squeezes just a bit tighter. “Say it. Tell me you love being our little slut.”

The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them, a mix of desperation and raw honesty, “I love it,” you cry out as loud as you can, “I love being your slut.”

“God, you sound just like him,” Patrick chuckles into your ear, low and sinister. His hold on your throat tightens, cutting off your air entirely. You sputter, hand coming up to clutch his wrist like a vice. Your pulse thunders, hard enough that he can probably feel it against his palm. “Who do you think made him come harder?”

The image alone of Patrick and Art like that sends you flying to the edge. “Ah— Patrick! ” you moan, voice hoarse and strained, “Pat, I’m gonna— fuck—“

“Do it,” he goads, sliding his hand from your clit down to where your pussy is spread open on him. He pushes his thick index finger right up next to his pulsing dick, hooking it inside or you and stretching you that much wider. “Come on my fucking dick like the greedy whore you are.”

You let out a sharp cry as your forehead hits the wall, thighs shaking violently as Patrick’s hips become relentless. Your whole body tensing up as you come so hard your vision blacks out.

You think you’re screaming, but it’s hard to hear anything over the white noise buzzing in your ears. Patrick’s hips don’t stop, fucking your abused pussy into overstimulation as he chases his own orgasm.

His hand drops from your throat to dig into your hip to put more power behind his thrusts. You’re immediately gasping for air, taking in greedy lungfuls of it.

Patrick’s chest is plastered to your back, face buried in your neck as he rambles out more nonsensical obscenities. His dick pulses and twitches in your pussy, so close to filling you up.

An idea pierces through the fog of your brain, an idea so fucking filthy it has your pussy clenching weakly.

You think back to the first night Art fucked you, how he almost came all over Patrick’s pants just because they were his, just because you said his name. How worked up and hard Patrick got when you started talking about Art.

“When he fucked me for the first time, I was wearing your sweats, the green ones,” your voice is scratchy and quiet, barely audible over the shower’s spray, “he noticed.”

“Fuck– fuck you,” he grates out, hips faltering ever so slightly. “God, gonna come,” his hold on your hip tightens, strong enough that it’ll be sure to bruise.

You keep talking, spurred on by his reaction. “He almost came right there, he wasn’t even inside me yet, just rubbed his dick all over them like he could fucking feel you.”

Patrick gives one final slam of his hips, burying himself as deep as he can in your pussy. His low groans and curses fill the room as he unloads into you, pumping you so full of his come that you can feel each hot splash of it painting the walls of your pussy.

He slumps down against you, hips twitching as he works through the aftershocks. You can feel his breath puff over the shell of your ear.

You and Patrick say nothing for a long few minutes, running water the only thing to keep the room from being completely silent. Patrick is still pressed to your back, his chest heaves against your shoulders. You think you’d collapse if his hands weren’t still on your hips, practically holding you up.

You’re the one to break the silence, voice low and wrecked, “Art lasts so much longer than that…”

Patrick snorts against your back. “Fuck you.” he says, biting your shoulder hard and pulling his dick out of you in one swift move. You gasp sharply as his come floods from your puffy, wrecked hole. Thick streams of it dripping down your thighs until the water washes it away to swirl down the drain.

You turn on unsteady legs, hair plastered to your face with water. Patrick is right there, knees knocking against yours as he shifts the two of you closer to the spray. He looks like a marble statue, water dripping down the tip of his nose and between the hard planes of his abs.

He grins smugly down at you, “I’m staying at a hotel close to campus, unblock my number and I’ll send you my room number,” he wagers, hands sliding up and down the wet skin of your back. “I think you, Art, and I have something we need to work out.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding your head with a small grin. “I think we do”

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 1 year ago

Note

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

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vampiricgf · 5 months ago

Text

— v. lycaon | stay soft, get eaten

·₊̣̇. ⊱ warnings: fem reader, dubcon, aphrodisiac, yandere, oral fem receiving, clit sucking, cervix fucking, knotting, creampie, extremely unrealistic depiction of sex, he calls you master n is a lil obsessed with you, not edited/proofread

wc: 2k+

the grip he has on me is insane now if only he'd be gripping up this [REDACTED] sobs

You were so lucky to have an attendant as well prepared as Lycaon. After spending the evening unable to sleep, angrily listening to birdsong as the light peeking in from the window grew less and less subdued, he had suggested you take a simple supplement and attempt a nap upon seeing you still laying in bed at his arrival. After all getting rest was the most important thing and if something would come up he could easily handle it for you without letting you rest excessively.

Just enough to be able to get through the day yet still feel appropriately tired come night, that was what he promised after handing a small tablet to you which you gratefully accepted. Lycaon had been sweet and thoughtful from the moment he started at your estate with the Victoria Housekeeping contract, and was always so adamant about remaining at your side.

When the room begins to soften at the edges you don't question it, it may be a mild effect from the pill or your own deprived brain. Focusing on the beat of your heart was easier, keeping your eyes closed as you remained tucked into bed. A heaviness spread through your limbs, delicious and reminiscent of a sleepy cat in the honeyed afternoon sun as you roll onto your back to stretch against the warm sheets.

The brush of them against your skin sends an unfamiliar sort of heat spreading beneath the surface of your body, an odd feeling of wishing it was replaced with physical touch, yearning suddenly for a certain thiren that you knew wouldn't be far from your bedroom.

You try ignoring the growing ache between your thighs, uncomfortably turning over and over from side to side as the temperature rises. Before long you have to thrash the covers off to rest barely covering your legs, nearly panting with the volatile mixture of desire and no sleep.

Thinking of calling for him you bite your bottom lip, a small whimper coming from low in your throat. As you struggle with the inappropriateness of the urge little do you know he's just opposite the bedroom door, listening intently to you with barely contained self satisfaction thrumming through his veins.

It's hardly appropriate for an attendant to be pining after their master, but say you were feeling struck by some overpowering need, what kind of attendant would he be to refuse if you begged for his help? Truly he'd done it on a whim, it just so happened that today was the perfect opportunity to act and perhaps it was simply fate.

"Master?"

His voice jolts you out of the thick fog of lust as he steps through the doorway, unable to bear the sounds of you whimpering for him any longer. With quick steps he's beside you, a hand coming to rest delicately against your forehead which nearly makes you moan from the contact. Your skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the scent of your arousal was heady in the balmy air, if he were less composed it would've made him drool instantly.

"Are you ill?" Faux concern laces the words as his eyes trail from your face to your heaving chest, your top having bunched up just beneath your breasts was a tantalizing challenge to his self control.

"I can't sleep- feels like I'm on fire," you whine, your eyes fluttering closed and he's grateful for the chance to ogle you openly.

"Do you require my help?" The tone of the question leaves little room for interpretation, the almost breathy way he asks betraying how clear your neediness is to him.

It should make you embarrassed, you should wave him away with a demure no I'll be fine but you can't bring yourself to speak the words aloud, nearly choking on how much you ache for him to touch you again. In a distant corner of your disconnected mind you wonder if thirens can smell things like arousal and perhaps that's why he offered. It makes your thighs clench together hard, the muscles flexing beneath the skin. How lucky you were to have someone so dedicated to attending to your needs that he'd even offer.

"Wouldn't be- appropriate-" you force the words out between deep breaths, desperately trying to regain some self control as your eyes find his.

He looked so handsome knelt by your bed, his singular visible eye shining with concern. You want to smooth the worry from his face with a hundred deep, frantic kisses, so powerful is the urge it's more like being gripped by madness.

"You don't need to worry, as my master I can't let you remain in this state without intervention." The words are so syrupy sweet to your ears, his voice low and sending delightful shivers down your spine.

If he's saying it's okay then why worry about impropriety? Once again you can't help the surge of thankfulness at his presence and his loyalty to you.

Gingerly he grasps your hand in his much larger one, bringing your arm up before placing the softest kiss to your inner wrist. The sensation of his lips against your skin is enough to make you squirm, back arching slightly just from the barest contact.

"Mm, don't know what's wrong with me," you breathe harshly as his mouth maps a trail from your wrist up your arm, your shoulder, and before you register it he's above you and those clawed hands are roaming the overheated skin of your stomach and it feels like every sense you have is being overcrowded by him.

If you had the wherewithall you would have perhaps been ashamed to be so openly writhing and moaning beneath him with your hands fisting in the material of his shirt but given the way he makes you feel like you'll crack apart in the next millisecond there was simply no room for things like humiliation or shame.

"Will you let me help you, my master?"

The request is accompanied by the feeling of him sucking on the side of your neck, sharp teeth barely ghosting over the delicate flesh he could easily rip. Why does everything feel so much more sensitive than usual? If you could think straight it would be a more pertinent question, but against the feeling of his hands cupping your breasts and urging you to help him remove your shirt the concern washes away like sugar in hot water.

In a way Lycaon is glad for your habit of wearing little to nothing in bed, because it feels like this is exactly what you wanted to happen. Each evening it was like the single greatest test of his resolve to not immediately give in to the urge that screamed to rip those skimpy clothes off you and fuck you until your pretty eyes were full of tears and that tongue of yours was only good for sounding out his name.

And he hadn't lied earlier, not fully. That pill would help you with your sleeping troubles eventually but the less than mild aphrodisiac effects would kick in first. It's no concern though, because that's what he's here for, to service you as his master. And so what if it happens to be a shockingly convenient avenue for satisfying his own desires? Who could blame a devoted attendant for loving their master so greatly?

As you shift your hips impatiently he's all too eager to indulge you, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and pushing one leg up in order to slot himself better between your legs and feel the tantalizing heat radiating from the apex of your thighs.

You can feel the way his bulge throbs against you through your clothes and it's exciting, like his body is begging for just the same release as yours and his movements have taken on a more predatory tinge- caging your body with his forearms on either side of your head now, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip in between sloppy kisses and the rhythmless, frantic grinding of his hips against yours.

"Want you, please," it leaves your lips as a pathetically desperate whine as you roll your hips to meet his in a pantomime of unclothed thrusts. Feeling his erection strain against layers of clothing has only served to make you feel even more delirious, like you're on fire and he's all that could hope to put it out.

"Like this?" The question is needy, nakedly desperate and it makes your fingers claw against his soft fur, pulling him down to kiss you again in a flurry of teeth and tongues.

You give an airy mhm and his head dips down to your chest with a particularly sinful groan, teeth ghosting over the swell of your breast before his hands are on you again, nearly ripping the flimsy pajama bottoms off of you in his haste to get you undressed and knowing you're so impossibly close to finding relief for the all consuming ache in your body makes you sigh contentedly for the first time as the air brushes against your clammy skin.

His movements are quick, snaking down on his belly and brushing his nose against the skin of your inner thighs. You can hear the deep inhale he takes, feel the way your body flushes hot in response. His hands run up and down your feverish skin, riling you up and when his tongue licks a fat stripe all the way up your flesh until his face is pressed against your pussy you can't help the way you moan his name so brokenly, a sound more akin to cracking porcelain.

And it's then that his self restraint seems to snap cleanly in two, his claws nearly digging into your thighs, nose bumping against your achingly puffy clit as his tongue delved inside your soaked entrance. It was impossible, feeling him as deeply as you were and he wasn't even using his fingers. Your own twisted into the bedsheets so hard they should have torn, your mouth open as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Soon enough he held one arm across your hips to pin you down and lessen your squirming, alternating between lapping at your clit and sucking on it, his sharp canines occasionally brushing dangerously against the sensitive bundle of nerves. With every drag of his tongue it felt like a coil winding back tighter and tighter inside your gut, hands fumbling to touch any part of him you could grasp as he retained his unrelenting pace never wavering in the attention he lavished your pussy with.

And all too soon he's pulling away from you, leaving you to keen high and pathetic at the loss of him, panicked eyes frantically locked on his figure as he drags himself back up to face you. Before you can whine too much he's shushing you with a deep, languid kiss and giving you the secondhand aftertaste of yourself on his tongue. For a brief moment you wonder if you've died and this is the afterlife: one long satisfaction of desire.

"I don't mean to tease, but I need you in another manner master." And you don't need to to ask what he means, feeling what must be his painfully hard erection rubbing against your bare, soaked cunt. Thrilled eagerness skips like electricity through your bloodstream, already rolling your hips to beg for it before your mouth even opens.

And like the wonderful attendant he is Lycaon obliges before you have to say a word. His hands deftly shed his clothes, now rumpled and twisted, before discarding them on the floor in a heap. Your bottom lip catches so hard between your teeth at the sight of him it's a miracle you don't draw blood.

Even in your most vivid fantasies there's simply no way you could capture just how gorgeous he was, and you can feel your eyes widen as they settle on the sight of his now freed cock. The tapered tip, flushed red and needy, glistening with precum, the girth of him enough to make your eyes water, and the length promising that he can easily kiss that spot inside you that turns your vision to static.

You could start drooling from how badly you need him inside you, a fresh wave of overzealous longing battering against your mind like waves against a rocky coastline. As he leans down, supporting himself on one forearm beside your head you meet his eyes again, seeing an amused look on his face that made you squirm in embarrassment at being caught so openly admiring him.

The scent of arousal and sweat is so thick in the air even you can catch it, it must be driving him insane. The thought nearly makes you giggle but the press of him against your entrance cuts off any sound you could hope to make, mouth left hanging open as he starts the slow press inside. Tears instantly push against your waterline, threatening to spill both from the painful adjustment to his size and because nobody has ever made you feel so full before.

He's barely midway inside and you're already panting, chest heaving as you mewl out his name and grab onto his shoulders like he's the only stable thing in the world. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, snowy fur and as his swollen, fat knot settles against your entrance you feel a rush of the most perfect bliss. Like you two were made for each other.

The delirious thought takes root as he kisses his way from your lips to your jaw, down your throat before giving you a few gentle nips with his teeth just to make you gasp and tighten your grip on him before he begins moving.

His pace is slow, almost loving, as you feel every vein as he pulls out only to inch back inside you with ease now thanks to your excess of arousal mingling with his saliva. You can't help the way your toes curl against nothing but the air as you move to grab onto your own thighs, desperate already to feel him deeper and once again, Lycaon follows your whims dutifully.

You can't help but cry out incoherently as he presses into you again and again, the head of his cock hitting so far inside you it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

But it's still not enough, and you feel that coil resume it's firm windback into position, almost ready to spring.

"Please, feels so good," you gasp out, "need more- harder -" you squeal with a particularly deep thrust against your cervix and ever the gentleman he doesn't make you ask again.

Groaning low and gravelly he cages you fully with his forearms, burying his snout into the side of your neck as the obscene sounds of skin slapping and the squelching of your greedy cunt drown out anything else. Distantly you hear his claws ripping through the sheets but you can't be bothered to care, not when he's got tears running down your cheeks and your pussy clamping down on his so hard, desperate to keep him inside.

You can feel him throbbing as you curl your fingers deeper into his fur, crying out his name as the tension inside your belly reaches a head, making your eyes screw shut and your head press back against the pillows.

His own ragged breathing doesn't register to you, so lost in the throughs of your own orgasm, but his teeth are gritted, bared in a silent snarl feeling the way you clamp down, the way your walls rhythmically try milking him for all he's worth and in an instinct driven haze his hips move in an even more brutal pace, sure to leave bruises against your tender flesh as the maddening need to cum inside you overwhelms him.

There's no way he could stop himself now and he muffles your cries with sloppy, apologetic kisses, tasting the tang of saltwater as his knot finally pushes it's way in, sitting securely against the ring of muscle at your entrance and he can't stop himself from saying your name against your lips, again and again like a mantra as thick, warm spurts of cum drown your womb.

You remain locked together, you a mess of hiccuping moans and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm and him grinding against you as if he could still fuck more of his cum even further inside you.

Your ankles shakily lock around his hips and one of his arms slides under your back, hand finding it's way down to grope and squeeze your ass as he whispers to you, words of thanks for indulging him and for allowing him to be of service that swirl dreamily around in your head as your fingers start gingerly stroking against his silky fur, soothing the spots you had twisted and tugged.

In a far away corner of your mind you recognize that this is the first time he's ever used your name to address you. It makes you smile, small and twinged with sleep. You know once he's no longer inside you he'll adamantly clean you up, move you to a different space and ensure you can sleep comfortably while h tidies your wrecked bed.

But another part of you wonders if you could convince him to forgo it all and just stay like this, warm and tangled together.

Maybe if you ask sweetly.

#txt ☆ˎˊ˗#von lycaon smut #von lycaon x reader #zzz smut #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero smut #zenless zone zero x reader

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neteyamsyawntu · 18 days ago

Text

Patterns of Your Love

Neteyam x Human!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

WARNINGS: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, SMUT including fingering,thigh riding, p in v/m&f intercourse, dirty talk, pet names, size difference, interspecies relationship, alien genitalia

Word count~4340 Art work created by @zeroseydorum

The heat of the Pandoran sun radiated through the thick branches of the trees above where you and Neteyam laid in the plush grass of the forest. Neteyam’s eyes were closed, muscles relaxed as he allowed your small form to lay across his chest, his comparably large hand supporting your waist, caressing your side gently with a thumb. You were propped up on your forearms staring down at him intently, counting each of his calming breaths, noting the small occasional hums he would let slip as he exhaled. Your eyes drifted to his long braids, splayed out in the grass around his head like separate coinciding streams of water. A sliver of sunlight painted in a diagonal line across his face. Everything about him seemed so perfect. One of the things that had immediately caught your eyes about him was his stripes. They seemed thicker in comparison to the other na’vi. Decorating his body so beautifully. Every stripe seemed purposeful. Your eyes lingered on the angled pattern on his forehead, following their flow of movement across his face. With careful fingers you raise your hand, gently gliding the tips of your fingers along his cheekbone, tracing the stripe toward the center of his face until it trails off before moving your hand up toward his forehead. Stretching your index and middle fingers apart, you place them at his hairline then slowly move them down, following the slanted lines of his stripes, progressively closing your fingers as you reach the place in the center of his brow bone. A low hum rumbled in Neteyam’s throat as your fingers repeated the action, your own mind transfixed on him, ”That feels nice…” his voice breaks the silence in a smooth whisper, a relaxed smile growing on his lips, “Does it?” you whisper back, reflecting his own smile. Your question is met with a satisfied hum in response, prompting you to repeat the action a few more times, watching Neteyam relax further under your touch. Your hand drifts down toward his chest, fingers immediately caressing the thick stripes along his pectoral, noting the brief hitch in Neteyam’s breathing as your feathery touches move across his skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a slight chuckle in his voice, finally opening his eyes to look down at you. Your eyes meet his for a brief moment, returning his smile before glancing back down at the pattern on his skin, “Your stripes are so pretty” you reply, trailing your fingers down the center of his chest, noticing how his muscles tense slightly at your actions causing you to quirk a curious brow, “Is my big, mighty warrior sensitive?” You chuckle with a playful smirk. Neteyam moves his hand to caress your jaw carefully, shifting your gaze back to his own, his thumb wanting to press over your lips, mentally cursing the oxygen mask that guarded your face, “Do not tease me, little one” Neteyam scolds you with his own playful smile, “Besides… You know full well what you do to me.”. Your gaze fell from his face to his body once more, admiring his azure skin with your finger tips. As his chest faltered a bit from his shaky breath, a new idea formed in your mind. You shifted your gaze to the side of his head, where his nearly bunny-like ears flicked absentmindedly. Carefully you shift your weight forward, just enough to place your hands by the sides of his head without having to strain. Just as carefully you allow your hands to gently cup the Na’vi’s long ears, which flick a bit in response at the touch. “My yawne…” Neteyam warns in a low purr, his eyes now watching you closely in attempts to perhaps read your mind on whatever scheme you had conjured, “What are you thinking, little one?”, “Just… testing a quick theory” you whisper semi focused as you try to hide your smirk. The moment your thumb and index fingers shift to lightly pinch his ears, you get a reaction you would never expect from him; a shaky gasp sounds in the air, his muscles tighten beneath you just as his hands move to encompass your backside, holding you impossibly close to him. His ears now hot beneath the pads of your fingers.

Your lips loosen as you finally allow a giggle to break through them, giving another brush of your thumbs along his ears that sends shivers down Neteyam’s spine, delight painting your features while watching his eyes roll and flutter shut, only briefly. Although there is nothing particularly erotic about the rubbing of his ears, the expression and now sudden shift in the rising and falling of his chest, has your mind wandering elsewhere. Swinging a leg over his slim waist and placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself, you peer down at him with a feline smirk, “So the big tough kitty really is sensitive.”. When Neteyam’s eyes meet yours, his pupils are dilated, glazed with a softness you only ever see him give you and yet… you could swear part of that look held some sort of primal challenge. It’s when his large hands snake up your thighs that you understand the meaning of that look, “Perhaps… although aren’t humans more sensitive than na’vi?” He hums, purposely drawing out the words as his fingers purposefully caress your thighs as they make their way up to your hips, his thumbs massaging the divots there with the type of predatory gentleness that makes your pulse quicken.

“Your skin is much softer… your bodies are squishier…” Neteyam purrs, perhaps more to himself as his amber eyes follow the trailing of his hands whilst they give your hips a gentle squeeze before slowly moving upward, pushing beneath the fabric of your shirt to run his thumbs along your ribs, just under your breasts. His ears perk when the sound of your exo-pack mask enhances the sound of your staggered breathing, pulling the edge of his lips into a smirk, “See?”. You pull back out of his reach crossing your are over your chest defiantly, “What? You expect me not to react when you’re…” Neteyam cocks his head to the side, that same predatory look gleaming in his eyes. You blow out a hot breath in a fleeting attempt to slow your heart rate, momentarily fogging the glass of your mask, “Stop looking at me like that.”.

Neteyam chuckles, shifting his weight to anchor himself onto his elbows, simultaneously causing you to adjust your own weight as well to stop you from slipping down his abs. The position mimicking that of a lion getting ready to pounce, “And how, tawtute, am I looking at you?”, “Like a cat toying with its meal before devouring it.” You huff out a nervous laugh, noting the way he leans to one side to allow one of his arms free to cup your lower back, his thumb trailing along your spine, his face coming ever so slightly closer to yours, “Is that what my sky dancer wishes? To be devoured?” Not ‘sky person’, but ‘dancer’ because you were not a human fueled by greed or destruction. You were soft, gentle, free spirited, and his.

Yet as you stammer trying to find the words, Neteyam leans closer until his lips meet with the column of your throat, extinguishing your tongue of any protest or comeback you would’ve conjured and leaving it with only the ability to sigh, leaning into his touch, your fingers instinctually weaving through his braids. His hold on your lower back remains firm as he carefully shifts into a sitting position, his other hand holding the side of your face, to which you have zero hesitation in leaning into the warmth of his palm, presenting more of your neck to him. A low sultry purr answers your gesture in thanks as his lips begin leaving kiss after wet kiss along your throat while his hand at your lower back drifts up your torso, proceeding his conquest in teasing the underside of your breast. Your breath catches for a moment and Neteyam’s lips ascend to your ear, his exhale against it causing you to shiver, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, “Shall we see what noises I can squeeze out of you?” Neteyam whispers, his hand making the shift to finally touch your aching breast, his fingers tracing along its peak before giving it an experimental squeeze to emphasize his words.

Your lips part as the warmth of his palm encompasses your mound, his calluses pulling at the sensitive skin of your peaked nipple with the motion in a way that has you immediately biting your lip again. A thud sounds from behind Neteyam at the impatient bat of his tail against the ground. While he was no stranger to this song and dance of trying to coax the most delicious sounds from you, it still made him somewhat annoyed when he didn’t get immediate results for his excursions. “How my sky dancer loves to play…” Neteyam murmurs against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips down to the peak of your collarbone, “Play as you like, yawne. I will have you singing soon enough.” he purrs, giving your breast in his hand a more assertive squeeze as his tongue glides back up the column of your throat, the fangs of his bottom jaw dragging slightly, in a way that has your body arching into him in response, finally drawing a sweet, lust coated whimper from your lips. You can feel Neteyam's satisfied smirk against your neck, as well as that same satisfaction forming into a firmness that is now pressing into you as you sit on his lap, “Miklor…”(beautiful sounding). Fuck if hearing him speak his mother tongue didn't instantly turn you into a puddle, then the clenching of your core would definitely do the trick. The growing need to have him impossibly closer, touching every inch of you, filling you, ebbed at the corners of your mind, beckoning desire to the forefront that had you squirming against the hardness that pressed against your clothed ass. The seam of your shorts grinding so deliciously against the thin fabric of his loincloth had Neteyam huffing out a ragged breath that sent a chill down your spine. Neteyam's hand pressed at your lower back, held you firmly against him, whilst the middle finger of his hand that remained under your shirt stroked tight, lazy circles around the perked bud of your breast, his mouth busy with adorning your neck in love bites for you to return to the lab with later, all of it dousing your body in heat, you wouldn't be surprised if the blood in your veins had become molten lava, “Teyam…” you coo, fisting your hands in his braids, a low purr rumbling in his chest at the sound, before using your hold on his braids to urge him back and off your neck, “No more playing,” you whisper breathlessly, wining your hips against him for emphasis, “please.”. He needed no further explanation of your wants, yet his eyes took in your body, possibilities of how this could go painting a string of pictures in his mind, by the hungry look in them. “Stand for me, ma'yawntu. Strip.” The command coming out gentle on his tongue as you watched you rise, his hand drifting behind himself to untie the knot of his loincloth, the minute your skin left his, his eyes never leaving your own for a moment, even as he tossed the flimsy garment to the side, perching to sit on his knees as he gave himself a long and slow stroke.

You swallowed the excess saliva that had manifested in your mouth at the sight as your hands moved to first remove your top, then your shoes, moving slowly in an effort to give him a good show. As you moved to remove your panties along with your shorts, Neteyam’s “No,” halted your movments, “Leave those for me.”. You obliged him, stepping out of your shorts and walking between his parted knees, Neteyam's hands instinctively reaching up to guide you, resting on your hips, pulling you closer until his lips met with your soft stomach. His thumbs slide over the band of your panties whilst he continue to leave kisses along your belly, his eyes lifting toward your own for only a moment, before his fingers delicately looping around the top of your panties, before pulling them gently down your legs. The scent of your bare arousal was enough to send a shiver through Neteyam’s spine, making his body go rigid, as his eyes rolled back before closing, his teeth nipping lovingly at your stomach that despite his restraint, had you yelping with slight surprise. “You complain a lot about my own playing, when you can't even seem to stop, yourself.” you protest, shifting your hips to avert his attention from your stomach down to the aching between your thighs. You hadn't even registered that one of Neteyam's hands had drifted down your leg, until you felt his calloused fingertips smoothing over your inner thigh, traveling higher and higher until two of them glide through your wet folds, just enough to part them.

Your pulse immediately jumps, your hands anchoring on his shoulders to steady yourself, “Mmn, but it is so fun to watch you squirm, yawne. It delights me to see my mate act so needy for me.” Neteyam purrs, dragging the lubricated fingers over your clit, slowly circling it whilst your hips buck at the touch, the nerves in your thighs demanding to close, which takes nearly every muscle in your body not to obey; to let Neteyam swirl your bundle of nerves and whined the forming knot in your stomach tighter, the mental leash you had on your vocal cords long forgotten, relinquishing sweet music for Neteyam's ears. “Awe, my sweet mate makes such pretty noises… tell me how good it feels, yawne.”. Your mind seems full of static, only being able to process the feeling of his fingers, the tightening in your core, your only response being to chase his fingers by swaying your hips along with him. “Uh- uh… use that pretty voice, love.” he urges, poking at your entrance with his fingertips for extra motivation. You swallow thickly, trying to steady your breathing as to try to make your voice as clear as possible, yet to no avail as your words come out nearly trembling, “It feels so good Teyam, I…I can hardly keep standing like this.”, “Oh?” and with that his fingers submerge themselves into your soaked cunt, scissoring twice to help with the stretch. The sound that breaks from you is like a song from the great mother herself, your fingernails digging into the blue muscles of his shoulder as your hips instinctively move against his hand, “More… more…”, “You want more, yawne? I've hardly started… so greedy.” Neteyam hums not sounding at all upset as his fingers curl against the spongy bit inside of you. “My greedy little sky dancer… I want to watch you dance for me…” he whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear and much to your dismay, Neteyam removes his fingers from within you, a whine that wasn't completely voluntary, following it from your throat.

Your growing pout causes Neteyam to chuckle as he shifts his weight slightly, still resting on his knees, but now sitting on his heels, the back of his hand now placed purposefully atop his thigh, his fingers still glistening with your juices now pointing skyward, “Sit.”. The command was simple enough, but you couldn’t stop the drifting of your eyes to the place between his thighs, where his cock twitched in eagerly. “That is for later, for now…” He curled his fingers in a sort of beckoning motion, “sit.”. You didn't recall how many steps it took until you were straddling Neteyam's thigh and you couldn't find it in you to care at the tips of his fingers brush your folds, his thumb gently swiping over your clit as you lowered yourself onto him, sinking his fingers back home. “Ahh~...” You moan as you sit completely on his thigh, with Neteyam now knuckle deep in your sex. “Mmnh you’re so warm inside, yawne.. so tight. Let us get you ready for more, hm? Dance…” he cooed sweetly, his fingers repeating that beckoning motion inside of you that serves as enough to jumpstart your movements. You grind your hips into his palm, your juices squelching below you with the motion. For a moment you see Neteyam's eyelids flutter, his lips curl back in the slightest of snarls, before settling for a look so heavy with lust it had you swearing under your breath, you nearly thought you'd combust at the sight alone. Sparing a glance between his legs once again, you witnessed the evidence of that look. His cock nearly red at the tip, twitching with each sway of your hips, as if he were imagining it inside of you instead of his fingers. You knew if you were his size, a na'vi, he wouldn't have wasted a second before burying himself in you, but alas, you were a fragile human. A small delicate thing that, despite whatever protests you could throw his way, you know that Neteyam would always take his time with you. “Eyes on me, yawne.” Neteyam says in more of a growl, as if just the sight of you looking at his was shredding his self control, yet before you could so much as lift your gaze- “Haah! Tey-.” he began bouncing his leg, thus you along with it, sending you up and down on his fingers at his will. Your fingernails nearly broke skin as you bounced atop his legs, moaning uncontrollably as he fucked you on his fingers.

Neteyam's gaze seemed to devour you like a piece of art; watching the each bounce of your breasts, the juices painting his palm and thigh, thrust after thrust how they pooled on his blue skin. It was almost to much, his cock was aching to the point of pain- and then he felt your touch on it's head, not even processing when or how your hand had gone from gripping his shoulder, to rolling his cock head in your palm and… fuck did it feel good. Too good. It was almost too easy to imagine pinning you on the forest floor, lining himself with your cunt and- No, you needed to finish first before he could have you. He needed to be sure you were ready for him. Your body trembled as Neteyam began curling his fingers repeatedly as he continued to bounce his leg, the mixed sensation throwing you into the merciful arms of release as you writhed and shook, mewling out in a hitched voice as you came undone. He continued, slowly the bouncing of his thigh and shifting his curling fingers in the massaging motion, letting you ride out your high. Neteyam huffed a small laugh as your forehead leaned against his chest for support, your breathing heavy and uneven. “You… you play too much, Teyam.”, this prompted another laugh as Neteyam lowered his knee, his free hand snaking from your hip to around your backside, as he carefully lowered you onto the plush grass. Once your back was flush against the ground, Neteyam now leaning over you, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them below pelvis to smear your lingering juices along his shaft, letting out a sigh at the contact, a sound that had your chest tightening. He had been so patient, so gentle, and now you would reward him for his efforts.

Slowly you spread your legs wide, bringing your knees to your chest, watching as Neteyam continued to give himself a few more pumps to ease the hurt. When his eyes finally lifted to see you spread before him, the sound that came from him was nothing, but primal need. He ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them as he carefully leaned down, bringing your face closer to his own until his forehead rested against yours. Despite the hunger, his amber eyes swam with so much Earth shattering love that you felt you could weep and perhaps it showed in your face, because Neteyam cooed your name so softly and sincerely you almost didn't hear it, before he raised his lips to kiss your hairline, once again mentally cursing the obstruction of your mask that kept him from kissing your lips. When he pulled away, it was only enough to weave a hand between you to guide his cock closer to where you both longed for him to be. At the feel of his tip prodding at your entrance, Neteyam leaned down to place a gentle kiss at your ear, whispering sweet praises as inch by delicious, suffocating, filling inch he pushed into you. The shudder that rippled down his back muscles as your tightness took hold of him, as if it would never let go. “Siltsan, ma’ syulang…” (Well done, my flower). As Neteyam looked up to take in your expression, he found your eyes closed, brows scrunched, but not in pain as you breathed, “I don't think I'll ever get used to that first thrust… thank Eywa.”.

Neteyam couldn't help, but chuckle before leaning down to bite your earlobe, “Such a dirty mouth on my mate…” he cooed, yet as you were about to retort, Neteyam pulled out slightly before plunging back in, his muscles flexing at the motion. “Ohh…shit…”, the curse natural on his tongue as again he thrusted slowly into you. The fifth time his tip pressed kissed your cervix, Neteyam had to bite back a growl. He was desperate, but he wouldn’t allow himself to throw caution to the wind, not just for your safety, but to savor this feeling for as long as he could. He maneuvered enough to set your legs over his shoulders, his knees spreading wider through the grass as he scooped an arm beneath your shoulders, pressing your front flush against his own seamlessly, like he was trying to get as close to you as possible- to force your bodies to become one and when he rolled his hips again, you rolled yours with him. Neteyam's ears pressed flat against the sides of his head and he let out a soft whimper, he was content to stay like this forever. “Teyam, please…” You begged, rolling your hips before he could move again, giving his cock a loving squeeze with a clench of your inner walls and with it, an invisible tether had broken loose. Neteyam reeled his hips back at the same steady pace he had, but when he drove back in, your body bucked with his. “Fuck! yes… like that… please.” and he did, again and again, faster, harder, until it was all he could do to bring your hips down onto each of his thrusts, driving your back into the grass each time. His lips were in a frenzy on your ears, neck and chest; wherever he could reach, you decorated your skin in wet kisses, nips, and licks and you couldn't find it within you to give a shit about how many marks he was leaving, not when it meant he was putting his claim on you in the most intimate way he could, Your body writhed and bucked beneath him, your legs that had been barking for being in the same position too long, had become an after thought as one ograsm began as another ended.

Only when Neteyam pulled away, wrapping your legs around his slim waist did you suddenly remember they needed relief, yet the euphoria of it was short lived as you were hauled into his lap, both arms wrapping around you as he somehow drove himself deeper at the new angle. Neteyam buried his face between your neck and shoulder, his grunts and moans lingering in your ear. He was close, the breathless whines that new fell from his lips indicated as much. So close you could feel the restraint in his thrusts, where one moment he pistoned into you, filling the space around you with wet slapping, the next he held your pelvis flush against his own as he ground himself into you. Your brows furrowed through your mask as his whines became more pitched, desperate you realized, like the finish line was nearly there, yet somehow out of reach. So you did what you could, clinging to him and whispering in his ear between moans, “I love you.”, “I love you.”, “My mate.”, “Mine.”, it was the last two words that clanged through him like a burst of energy as Neteyam gave a few rough thrusts, bringing your body to meet them each time, that he finally went over the edge, spilling as much of his seed as he could into you before it began to spill where you were still connected.

The moment he stilled inside of you, you both let out a sigh in unison, your bodies drenched with sweat, skin hot and sticky to the touch. It was when you each pulled back to look at each other that Neteyam’s eyes widened, taking in your body before him. “What? What's wrong?” You immediately ask, following his gaze, but that was all the proof you needed. From what you could see, your chest was littered with redish-purple spots, which you could only assume were on your neck as well, and then the embarrassment of having to walk into the lab like this hit. Neteyam merely laughed, trying as gentle as possible to lay you back down on the grass, withdrawing himself from you before laying on his side beside you. “You say my stripes are pretty, but I must say… I do find spots to be a good look on you.” then you laughed with him only after feining disapproval at his joke, giving his shoulder a playful shove before snuggling into his warmth.

Even rereading this story I'm super proud with how it turned out. I hope it holds up to everyone who read it previously and that new readers enjoy it as well.♡

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If you would like to be added or removed from a specific taglist, just let me know!

#avatar #avatar the way of water #Atwow #atwow fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #avatar smut #Neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #aged up characters #aged up au #neteyam x reader #Neteyam x y/n #neteyam x human reader

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lola-writes · 24 days ago

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DELICIAE IMPERII ║ I.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Hanno’s sister!reader

Word Count: 2,9k

Synopsis: As an esteemed warrior of the Numidian army, your world turns on its axis when you’re taken prisoner by the Romans. Ever since your stealth attack that nearly cost the General of the Roman army, Marcus Acacius, his life, he appears to have taken a special interest in you. Under his tutelage of swordplay and carnal things, you delve deeper into the heart of the Roman Empire, uncovering its instability, and Acacius’ true intentions with you…

Themes & Warnings: 18+ (MDNI!), POV first person, use of y/n, blood & violence, slow burn, enemies to lovers, implied age gap, misogyny, political corruption & instability, yearning & longing, mutual pining, sexual inexperience, terms of endearment (anaticula, Adonis), slavery, smut, p in v, fingering, dry humping, pet names, praising, creampie, voyeurism, oral, orgasms

Song: Fight for Survival – Klergy

➣ Anaticula (duckling), Adonis (god of beauty and desire)

➣ a/n: The original plan was for this to be a oneshot, but in the end it seemed impossible. I've got a lot planned for this story. Hope you stay tuned! 🥰

➣ Poem by @fairytalesques

Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist | Playlist

Enjoy the read!

Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

I am a rose unfurling, winter’s bloom. Poison dripping down my throat and out of my bladed fingers. I spin stars into black holes, drive monsters to extinction in the dead heat of summer. You ever stop to think what life could have been if the poison had been potent? A lifeline in the carnage. A blessing or a curse? The flower is now festering like a disease but with Adonis I’ll be safe, he keeps the antidote.

The metallic tang of blood, thick and cloying, hung heavy in the humid air, a shroud of death as thick as smoke. It was a symphony of war, conducted by the piercing shrieks of the wounded and the barked commands of the officers. A cacophony that blurred my senses as I moved with deadly precision through a haze of silver and red.

I fought with the savage efficiency of a wild animal, yet my kills were clean and quiet, each motion honed by years of training under Hanno's tutelage. My vision tunneled to a singular, deadly focus – the annhilation of the Roman usurpers by any means necessary. In this moment, I was a force of nature, an instrument of retribution. I would purge the land of their corrupted touch if I were to die trying.

The enemy pressed on, a relentless tide. For every ten I felled, another twenty rose to take their place. Yet somehow, the more I fought, the stronger I became, as though the adrenaline that infiltrated my every tissue contained a potent elixir that invigorated my muscles and dulled their exertion.

Clashing blades rang in the air. Our two armies mingled near indistinguishably; clanging, crunshing and screaming. It would be difficult to tell friend from foe, if it weren’t for the Romans distinctive galeas, the red fur frilling atop the silver helms like beckoning targets.

Just then, the crowd parted like clouds from the sun, unveiling a figure descending the battlement steps, a silhouette of lethal grace. Donning a sable breast plate emblazoned by Sol, sprawling across his chest with a douzen golden rays, he moved with the effortless grace of a dancer, his blade a blur of silver death, his countenance molded into a rigid canvas of authority. A retinue of red fringed galeas encircled him, their bodies his shields, their presence a testament to his rank.

My gaze fixed him through the crowd as the next wave of men in their peculiar-looking helmets came charging at me. I ducked, slicing open the patellas of the first two, making them buckle in the sand. The third I dodged, sidestepping before plunging my blade into his brachial plexus. The fourth I parried, our blades screeching in unison, before I kicked under his flared skirt. There wasn’t much fight left in him after that.

Jubartha’s words echoed in my mind as I tracked the approaching entourage, “Take out the leader of your enemy, and it matters not how much blood stains your sword.”

He moved fluidly like a windless sea. His spatha whipped around him, trailing shadows in the dust-ridden air, splattering the sand with blood. His expression was a paradox. As though he would not rest until Rome had pocketed another conquest, while simultaneously longing for a different fate entirely.

Crimson trailed around him like crushed punica granatum. None breached the shield of bodies surrounding him, and those who tried did not emerge alive, like prey entering a lion’s den.

I caught a glimpse of Hanno and Jubartha atop the parapet, fending off the ruthless wave from the assaulting sea. The walls had been breached, our numbers were dwindling. A sense of desperation seized me, a reckless courage driving me forward.

There was but one choice at my disposal.

I sprinted up the steps of the opposite parapet, scaling the heights with desperate urgency. Ducking behind a wooden pole, I dashed across the platform until I reached its bosom. I leaned out over its edifice, where down below, a second protective roof had been built. I started the climb downward, the splintering wood tearing at my hands like an angry cat. I landed on the roof with a thud and crouched towards the edge. Our men were still charging through the opening of the parapet, but before I knew it, they began to slow, getting knocked back by the shield wall of fearsome Roman guards. I rose to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, adrenaline surging through my bloodstream. My hand found the hilt of my sword and clasped it into place. For what I was about to do, risking becoming unarmed was to invite my doom.

The chaotic shadowy flare of guards flanking the steady shadow of an unyielding assassin grew in the sand below. I filled my lungs, washing out the biting fear of death creeping around the edges.

A warrior’s oath echoed in my mind: I am Numidia.

I dipped, toes to the edge. A head of dark and silver emerged below.

What could go wrong?

I leapt.

The fall felt decelerated, as if in a dream, and all surrounding noise faded underwater. My feet met his back, and a heavy grunt of startlement escaped him as he fell forward. His body broke my fall, and I rolled with the force of the impact, swiftly regaining my footing as I turned to face him. Dazed for but a second, his face dusted with sand, he grappled for his sword. But before he managed to get a proper grasp of the hilt, I pressed my boot atop his knuckles. He groaned in frustration behind gritted teeth. The next second, my one hand had clasped the knife from my boot, while the other had gathered a fistful of his hair and snatched him backward.

In the third second, my blade was poised at his throat, ready to claim his life when, for reasons unexplained, the edge paused in his skin.

In the fourth second, I had met his eyes, and an unfamilliar current passed down my spine. They were big, and brown, and full of contradictions, staring up at me with equal surprise, malice, and admiration. But no fear. His chest was heaving. His hair was a full, tangled mess of black and silver beneath my fingers, textured from the unsettled sand. The strands of silver had leaked into his beard which covered his dark, dirt-and blood-spattered complexion. His nose was sharp, angled like the limb of a bow, and his lips were slightly parted from gnashed teeth. The wound I had inflicted seemed to defy the vision of him I had before me, bleeding red but ichor.

In the fifth second his resistance faltered, his head growing heavy against me. But before I could savour my victory, a sharp blow clattered my teeth, and suddenly my body was not my own. My vision blurred, my ears buzzed, and my fingers loosened the grip of the knife, no matter how hard I fought against it.

In the sixth second, I was laying in the sand, grasping for consciousness. I thought I could hear Hanno screaming in the distance, but it was just beneath the surface. Gathering the last ounces of strength I had left I reached for the blade laying inches away. The contours of Adonis hovered over me, as one of the guards kicked my weapon out of reach. My other hand dragged itself to my waist, half-limb, seeking to undo the clasp to my sword.

“Tsk tsk tsk...” Adonis clicked his tongue. I winced as his boot came down on my hand, pressing down. “You have some fight in you, anaticula,” his voice, laced with what I would percieve as… concern, circulated around my head like a distant echo. “Grab her.” The words consumed me, nuzzling my cognisance like a warm blanket, and as I lifted off the ground, I faded into oblivion.

Vae victis. Woe to the vanquished.

The declaration travelled with me between the realms of my unconsciousness, followed by the distant wails of bereaved mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters.

I awoke to the comforting crackle of the fire we used to cook our supper. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fish, and the vague neigh of my stallion drifted in from outside. I sighed, nuzzling my face into the pillow, and was captivated by the unfamiliar softness of it. Something was different. The ground beneath me seemed to shift and sway, and as I opened my eyes, the pillow under my cheek was foreign to me – vibrant with patterns winding around the fabric like climbing vines.

Reality slowly dawned. I was not home. And the crackle of the fire and the neighing from my stallion was in fact the creaking and squeaking of ship timbers.

I groaned as a sharp pain lanced through my skull. Everything came back to me. The Roman invasion. The battle. The blow to the head. Adonis …

My breath stilled when I met his gaze across the room. Clad in the same sable armor and a royal scarlet cape, he was seated at the head of a table bedecked in plates of fish, cheese, fruit and caraffes of wine. He held my stare with a distant look of interest, rolling a purple grape between his fingers before plopping it into his mouth, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

The throbbing pain pulsed in my temple in tune with my heart as I sat up on the setee. Sludge stuck to my thoughts and it felt as though my center of gravity was off the way the room kept rocking.

“Easy,” came his voice, a low rumble. His chewing ceased, his movements stilled, as if ready to rise in haste.

The ship’s rhythmic rocking intensified, the sound of waves lapping against the hull growing louder. A cold sweat broke out on my brow. My breathing surged and grew ragged, trying to subdue the rolling sense of nausea consuming me.

But it was futile.

With a violent shudder, I retched, the contents of my stomach emptying onto the wooden planks.

I stared blankly at my mess, a strange blend of satisfaction and shame washing over me. Relishing at the thought of having defiled the ship of the Roman usurpers, I was humbled by doing so in front of the man who I failed to kill. My guts were ready to spill again at the very thought.

His chair creaked against the floor as he rose. I only saw his legs as he approached, dropping to his haunches in front of me – in my vomit, and I recoiled, equally to his sudden advance as to the indignity of it. He moved with intent, the scarlet cape pooled around him, and I could not help but feel intimidated. It was like he didn’t know what he was standing in. Or rather, didn’t care. Furthermore, based off his attire alone, he was too high in station to be on his knees for a commoner like me. Even less, kneeling in a commoner’s bodily fluid.

He was so cool and calculated, from how he moved to how his gaze settled on mine, though something alive played in his dark brown eyes. Something that could snap at any second. His complexion was still riddled with dried dirt and blood from the battle, and the cut in his neck had leaked down his throat like spilt ink.

I knew not if it was the sudden uprising of nerves, his closeness, or a result of the blow to my head, but the words slipped past my lips without thought. “You’re a truly terrible commander.” I dried the dribble off my chin with the back of my hand.

A furrow etched between his brows and genuine concern flickered in his eyes, like he was contemplating whether it might be true. “I conquered your city,” he parried.

“I nearly killed you,” I retorted.

A hint of malice clouded his features. “Nearly.” His tone of voice gathered timber; that the word came off as a threat.

He stared at me. The urge to look away was so strong it itched beneath my skin. He expected me to. Though something foreign and astute made me persevere. Holding eye contact with him felt like a deadly game. But it also evoked a whisper of adrenaline, as warm as spiced wine.

Finally, his eyes drifted downward to the pool of vomit at his feet. “I’ll have someone clean this up,” he said, before leaning forward and putting his arms around me.

Adrenaline shot through me like a violent storm, and I pushed him away instinctively. His face was a mask of indifference, and he reached for me again, and this time he didn’t let go, no matter how hard I fought him. He carried me up off the settee as I kicked, squealed, grunted and clawed. My mind raced with the thoughts of what he might do to me. His breast plate was ice cold against my skin, but I was too frantic to notice. I came to my senses once he dropped me down in a chair next to the table. He glared at me, clearly unimpressed by my defiance, before grabbing a plate off the table, methodically filling it with a chaotic assortment.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, breaking off a twig of grapes as a final touch before serving it to me, rounding the table to seat himself.

I simply gaped at him, too bewildered to respond. My chest heaved from exertion, my tense body clutching onto the wood of the chair, trembling slightly from the waning adrenaline spike.

“You need not fear me, anaticula,” he soothed. His voice was a strange blend of velvet and steel, a combination I believed to be uniquely his; calming and unsettling me in equal measure. And despite the ingrained hatred I harbored towards his people, an inexplicable, vexing trust for him began to bloom within me.

“I am General Marcus Acacius,” he boomed, as though I would have trouble hearing him from across the table. Where he came from, I’d wager men stood to attention at the mere mention of him, but I remained indifferent. Belittling him was all the power I had.

His name grew heavy in the air, silence stretching. I’d expected him to explain my fate next. That I would be sold as a slave for men to plunder as they wished, or perhaps executed for having his life at my disposal. Perhaps he’d do it himself.

“What do I call you?” he asked finally.

“Whyever does that matter?” I snapped.

“Is it so strange to wish to know the name of the woman who nearly killed me?” His voice dipped at the very mention of it.

“I’ll be dead soon enough,” I said with feigned indifference. Acacius stiffened, watching me carefully. “Or if you do not kill me, I’d kill myself before I ever become a slave.” I watched him relax slightly and continue his meal.

“That’s not going to happen,” he muttered inbetween chews.

My gut flared with anticipation, “Which part?” I demanded.

He looked up at me. “What’s your name?” he asked, deliberately ignoring my question.

“Y/N,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

He repeated my name, the sound rolling off his tongue like honey while he fixed me with his eyes dark like amber. I grew strangely warm and restless, and a sudden urge to flee seized me, a wild beast gnawing at my nerves.

“Where is my brother?” I blurted out, rather raggedly, a note of desperation creeping in, but as I did, I recalled I had not seen Hanno since the start of the battle. Was he even alive?

“Your brother?” he asked, like the notion I’d have a family was aberrant to him, a fleeting spark of uncertainty passing through his eyes. He swallowed sharply, picking at the salted fish on his plate. “With the other prisoners,” he muttered.

“So,” I began, molding myself out of the rigid posture I had assumed, and leaned forward. “Why am I here?” I asked, casting a disapproving look around his opulent cabin.

He stopped and fixed me with a gaze ice-cold. “For safe keeping,” he said sternly. “You nearly killed me today, Y/N. I wouldn’t want to find out what else you’re capable of.”

Vague images flickered before my eyes – chaos, then darkness. “You talk as if it’s some big feat,” I scoffed.

His eyes, twin pools of lethal venom, bored into me. “I assure you,” he hissed, resting his bracers against the edge of the table, a hint of admonition lingering in his voice, “It is.”

My face heated at the thought of having impressed him, but the word ‘nearly’ was a nettlesome creature.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue.

Acacius cocked his brows in recognition and poured wine. “Why didn’t you?” he asked, raising the cup to his lips.

The question caught me off guard, and a bitter taste filled my mouth. I recalled myself hesitating. I had the blade at his throat. I could have ended the battle there and then, declared Numidia victorious against the power of Rome. But I couldn’t do it.

“I-,” I don’t know, I thought.

A sharp knock on the door shattered the silence, and a sentry entered the room, bowing slightly. “General Acacius,” he spoke, his voice laced with duty and reverence. “Rome awaits.”

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mochamadeleines · 2 months ago

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Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for.

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much.

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed.

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft.

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open.

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him.

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry.

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead.

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you.

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.”

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay.

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?”

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless.

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you.

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal.

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow, he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.”

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him. “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.”

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured.

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.”

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore.

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible?

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.”

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross.

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you.

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him.

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now.

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts? I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.”

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about.

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door.

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.”

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys.

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match.

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock.

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color. He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.”

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with.

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand.

“Darlin’.”

“Right.”

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?”

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other.

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.”

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat.

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city.

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.”

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you.

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you.

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.”

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress?

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. ��As long as youre quiet.”

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you.

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down.

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-”

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.”

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head.

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.”

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt.

“Oh fuck-”

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum.

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath.

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless.

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well.

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel- Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw.

“Hhah- No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me.

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect.

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.”

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead. “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.”

#joel miller #the last of us #hbo joel miller #the last of us part 1 #the last of us season one #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x you #fanfic #mocha writes #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #modern au #smut fic #might cross post to ao3 idk...#pleeaaaase tell me if u guys like this #glaze me glaze me glaze me #Lie 2 me and say u love it...

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vero1shere · 3 months ago

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guns and roses

pairing: wolverine x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: your boyfriend’s back from a mission, and it becomes pretty obvious you missed each other.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut with fluff sprinkles, slight choking, begging, slapping (once), unprotected sex (wrap it up guys pleasee!!), p in v, teasing, oral sex, breastplay, fingering, cumming inside

a/n: guys i swear i can write more things other than smut i’m just ovulating. also the title is from the ldr song, i don’t know if the band fits but if it does i’ll take the win.

masterlist. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁inbox

“You’re back”

It was morning. The pale sun had risen behind a thin veil of clouds and you had been up far too early, waiting and expecting, and in your own giddiness entirely missed the sound of his motorcycle pulling up. You were several steps away from the door when its handle rattled and the wood creaked open. Seeing the familiar figure of your boyfriend, you didn’t waste a moment in coming close, standing up from your bed.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya darlin’,”he held you closer to his chest by placing his hands on your hips. Logan had been gone on a mission for 2 weeks and you had very much missed him.

“Wasn’t sleeping,” you slid a palm slowly up his arm, until your hand nestled warmly on the back of his neck. “How did it go?” you asked.

“As I expected it.”

“And the contact?”

“Useless.”

“Oh.” You gave a fake pout, twirling a lock of his hair between your fingers. “And here I was waiting for you to come home as the newest global hero.”

He gave a curt laugh. “Waiting for me, huh?” he said, his eyes looking down at you in a way that made your skin heat up. You were in your bathrobe. Perhaps not the prettiest clothing item, but it was the nicest thing you owned and you knew exactly how its low cut showed you off.

You leaned in closer, letting the robe slip slightly off your shoulder. “Not at all,” you whispered.

Logan looked at you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Right,” he said. And then, “C’mere.”

You moved in to kiss him readily, his hand on your cheek guiding you closer, mouths slipping together in a well versed familiarity. You weren’t one to doubt his abilities, but a fierce feeling of gladness came over you whenever you shared that first kiss after a time apart. You didn’t like it when he was gone and always had that special vulnerability course through you like a nervous strike of lightning upon seeing him again.

He was kissing you slowly, in that gentle way he showed at times, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing at your hip. There was something rather domestic about the notion, you thought to yourself, meeting him at the door with a robe on. You decided you liked that feeling.

His tongue ran across your bottom lip and you let him in, gladly, sighing into his mouth, before sputtering and pushing him away.

“You taste like shit,” you laughed suddenly, wiping at your mouth. When the excitement of his return faded, you actually looked at him properly for the first time. “And you look like shit too.”

“Oh thank you doll, always so sweet,” he chuckled.

“You taste like motor oil,” you said, unable to contain a smile as you looked him over and realised he was covered in grease marks, his military boots grimy to the hilt. “What the hell happened to you? Did you go into a sewer? Actually, no, don’t tell me. We decided on the don’t ask, don’t tell rule and I will stick to that. Go wash, then we can continue.”

“I think we can continue now,” he said in a low voice, reaching out for you again.

“No,” you said quickly, slipping out of his reach. “Logan you’re filthy.”

He gave you an unimpressed look but began nudging a boot off with a foot. “Alright,” he muttered, haphazardly kicking his boots to the side and turning to the bathroom. You watched as he lazily tugged his shirt up and over his head. To your great amusement, you saw a faint line around his shoulders where clean skin met dirty.

Hearing the sound of water being turned on, you walked over to the window and peered at the sky outside. Faint clouds diluted the sun’s light, but they were grey in colour and the air was fresh that morning after a humid night.

You cupped your cheek into a palm. You had missed Logan. Being apart made all sorts of thoughts rush through you, of confessions unsaid and feelings that maybe what he was doing with the xmen wasn’t the safest thing for him. You knew it wasn’t just about the sex, and that was enough sometimes, but since getting closer, hearing him speak, knowing that on the odd time he smiled wide his left cheek showed in it a dimple, there was something more behind your devotion. Something you knew you would need to voice someday, or perhaps leave it perfectly silent as it was already, whispered only in the hard kisses when he left and in the way you caressed his back when he had night terrors.

A hand lightly brushed the hair off the back of your neck, interrupting your thoughts.

“Care to inspect me now, officer?”

With a smile you turned, noting that his skin seemed a shade lighter, and wrapped your hands behind his head.

“Looking good,” you said, idly noticing he had a towel tied around his middle. “I can definitely see some improvement.”

“Even my hair is still damp.”

“Yeah, and I bet a whole handful of gunk came out of it.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking his arms around your waist. “Y’ sure know how to kill a mood, don’t you, sweetheart,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’ve been in the mood for days, baby.”

He kissed you like he was desperate, and you liked to believe he was. Your hands clawed into his hair, drawing him impossibly close, slipping your tongue into his mouth to meet his. One of his hands slid up to wrap itself warmly around your neck, the other at your hip held you tightly against his body.

To your surprise, you realised that he didn’t taste like cigarettes, even though you knew he smoked more while he was away. Instead, you could just faintly taste the cheap toothpaste you shared.

“What are you smiling about?” he breathed out, breaking away from you for an agonising moment.

What could you say, because you loved him? “I’ve been waiting for this,” you tell his mouth instead.

You let yourself be moved and pressed against the wall, barely registering anything beyond the way Logan was kissing you somewhere around your clavicle, and that one of his hands was sliding slowly down your body, pushing away folds of the robe. He palmed one of your breasts, the flat of his thumb drawing across your stiff nipple before pinching it, doing the same to the other. A jagged moan passed your lips as he slouched to bring his mouth to your chest, all teeth and tongue, biting hard on the flesh in a way you knew would leave a mark. His mouth covered your nipple, and you dug your nails into his shoulder as he suckled on it. Little sounds were coming out of your mouth without restraint and you couldn’t help but growl when his mouth came away with a wet sound.

“Pent up, baby?” he said with a smirk, his eyes dark as he leaned in to capture your lips. You felt his hand cup your breasts again, smearing his saliva across the hot skin, before moving over your ribs and the curve of your stomach and tugging the bathrobe loose.

You weren’t wearing anything beneath and he noticed and chuckled into your mouth.

“You really were waiting for me, huh?” He kissed you and leaned back, looking appreciatively over your bare body, running his hands over your hips and up again. “I wonder if you’re wet for me already, too.”

You didn’t get a moment to think of a coherent reply, though you knew the answer plainly, as his hand finally went to where you needed him most and your hips rocked into him as he slid his fingers easily through your wet folds. He breathed something you couldn’t decipher and leaned in close to bite your ear, a thumb brushing maddeningly light over your aching clit.

You rocked into him again, desperate for more, and he sucked on your neck, hard, enough to make you cry out, and slipped a finger easily inside you.

“So wet for me,” he murmured into the skin of your neck. “Did you fuck yourself thinking about this while I was gone?”

A second finger joined, and the heat pooling inside you seemed to almost make you dizzy and you leaned your head back against the wall, panting, nodding.

“Yes, yes,” you gasped, sucking in a breath as the fingers pulled out of you almost completely, and moaning as they were thrust back inside you. You wanted to say something more, but the words got lost in your mouth as his hand picked up speed and his thumb began to make agonising circles over your clit, and your brain couldn’t focus on anything except how good it felt. Logan was panting in your ear and you closed your eyes, one of your hands on his neck and the other gripping onto his arm, meeting every thrust of his fingers with your own hips.

His fingers curled inside you and you were grateful that your hands were on him, or else your knees may have buckled. An obscene sound came out of your mouth that he swallowed in a bruising kiss, teeth clacking painfully together as you both came close too forcefully, but the pain was immediately replaced with pleasure and you bit down on his bottom lip.

Suddenly, the fingers left you, and you almost swayed on your feet at the loss, making an unhappy noise. Forcing your heavy lidded eyes open, you felt your heartbeat in your throat as you watched Logan bring the slick covered fingers up and into his mouth. He gave you a look that promised you wouldn’t be walking later.

“Bed,” he rasped. “Now.”

You shrugged quickly out of the robe, letting it fall forgotten at your feet, and moved. You loved it when he got to the point of making orders.

“On your back, up against the pillows.”

You complied, breathing out of your mouth as you settled at the far end of the bed and watched Logan tug off his towel, kicking it to the side. Your eyes went immediately to a scar in his lower belly, and you traced its shape before looking at his cock, which was already hard and arching into his hand. Watching you, he slowly stroked himself.

“That was clean,” you said, in a voice you hoped sounded disapproving, nodding your head towards the towel.

“Right,” replied Logan, getting into bed. “Mention it again and I’ll gag you with it.”

It was a tempting offer, but you were in no mood to be quiet and, realising where he was positioning himself, instead eagerly parted your legs for him. He gave you a smug smile for that and, bringing his hands to your thighs, manoeuvred your knees over his shoulders. He pressed a few kisses and bites to your inner thighs but you could see he was stretched thin for more foreplay and you didn’t mind that at all.

Reaching out, you curled your fingers into his hair. You let your nails gently scratch against his scalp.

“Please,” you whispered.

If his kisses were desperate, there was something more to the way he ate you out. The first broad lick from his tongue made your hand fist up in his hair, but if it hurt him he didn’t say. He took you greedily, fingers wrapped so tight around your thighs it always left you with bruises, tongue lapping you up in quick, hard strokes.

You were moaning openly, interrupted by gasps whenever his lips would focus on your clit or the tongue pushed deep. A heavy heat was building through you, and you could feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten. One hand holding on to the headboard behind you, you looked with hazy eyes at Logan, noting the red marks over your thighs, the way his dark hair spilled across your skin. He wasn’t looking at you and you noticed his shoulders jerk out of rhythm to his mouth and, somehow, your temperature only got hotter.

“Are you fucking yourself, Logan?” you said in a shuddering voice, feeling sweat slide down the side of your face, breathing heavily. “Are you fucking yourself to my pussy?”

He shifted and you pulled away your hand as he lifted his head. Your mind spun seeing your own slick glisten on his lips and mouth.

You thought he was about to answer, but instead he pushed his sweat darkened hair out of his eye and gave you a dog like grin.

As his mouth lowered again, he had a finger in you, and then a second. By the time he slipped the third one in, you could feel your orgasm building. He was sucking on your swollen clit, fingers pushing hard and fast into you, the wet noise only covered by your own wanton sounds.

Your fingers, once again in his hair, trembled and tugged.

“I’m close,” you forced out, biting hard on your bottom lip, nails scraping against the wood of the headboard. “Fuck, Logan. I’m close.”

“Oh, yeah?” You could just feel him smile as he said the words against you. It made you tug harder on his hair, in a way you knew would burn, and that brought in him a new vigour and his fingers inside you curled against your front wall.

You were pretty sure you screamed. He did it again and the orgasm hit you like a red hot flame, your hips only barely being held down by his free hand, bucking into his fingers and mouth. He fucked you through it, until you shuddered with your entire body, throat too tired to make another sound, chest heaving as you blinked and stared at the ceiling.

“Wow,” you said.

You heard a chuckle and watched Logan lick his fingers and wipe the back of his hand over his mouth before coming close and kissing you. You loved kissing him like that. There was something about tasting your own self in somebody else’s mouth that drove you insane.

“I don’t think I can feel my legs,” you told him, running your fingers down his chest, not ignoring the way his breath stuttered as you did.

“I’ll make you feel ‘em again,” he said.

You hummed into his mouth, lips curling into a smile as you finally took him into your hand, stroking him with an easy flick of the wrist, eating up every little sound he made.

“Looks like it’s time for us to switch sides,” you breathed, smearing his pre-cum under your hand, the touch familiar and making you ache for more. “How do you want me?”

He didn’t ask. In a quick movement you found yourself on top of him, the wind knocked out of you, both of his hands on your hips. You grinned.

“Alright, baby,” you said. You leaned forward, running your hands over his body, rocking just enough against his cock that it made him hiss. You moved in to kiss him, letting your breasts press against his chest. “I’ll make you feel good.”

You rolled your hips, a shudder of pleasure going through the both of you as his cock brushed over your sensitive clit. If your head wasn’t in post-orgasmic bliss you might have thought it mildly embarrassing how wet you were or how you readily awaited to come again. But you didn’t care about that, you cared about feeling good and making sure Logan felt that extra. With an evil little smile you arched your back, holding on to his shoulder as you kept rocking your wet cunt over him, and wrapped your free hand over his neck.

It was a gentle hold, enough to explain what you wanted to do and enough for him to decline. This wasn’t yet a common thing the two of you did, but you wouldn’t have minded if it was. You looked at him but he didn’t decline, only stared back at you, hand gripping your thigh, breathing through an open mouth. You tightened your hold, only by a fraction, rewarded by a groan, and then you tightened it again and he leaned his head back, opening more of his neck to your hand.

Your mouth was going dry. You felt like you could come undone by his expression alone, head thrown back and eyes closed, hair sticking to the back of your hand. You leaned in close, listening as his breath caught in his throat, and gave his neck a squeeze.

The noise that came out of him was unholy. He bucked beneath you in a way that made you suck in your own breath before pressing your lips warmly against his ear.

You went to kiss him again but suddenly he wasn’t there and with a yelp you found yourself being rolled roughly onto your back and Logan’s teeth instead by your ear.

“Think you can just tease me the whole time?” he growled, his weight on your body driving you crazy, hand roughly palming your breast. “Think I haven’t been waiting for this too?”

Oh, God.

“Beg for it.”

“Fuck me,” you whispered, hands grabbing at his face and arms and side. “God, please, Logan, fuck me. Please.”

He raked his teeth down your neck and you cried out, nails scratching his back as he positioned himself above you, lifting one of your legs under his arm, licking the red mark he had left.

“Fuck, Logan, please. Please.”

You had dreamed of this. You were so wet that he slid inside you easily, and you released a sound that was half a moan and half a sigh of relief. He filled you up perfectly, stretching you in the way that you knew and craved. Your sensitive cunt seemed to feel it all twice-fold and you felt your eyes close in pleasure.

He pulled out of you, slowly, almost until the tip, before pushing back in a quick, hard thrust that sent your head flying back, the feeling amplified by your position. He didn’t take you slowly, he fucked you hard and fast, until your individual moans became a single, desperate sound. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on the bed, getting a fistful of sheets when his thumb pressed roughly over your clit, sending hot sparks through you.

The sound of flesh against flesh intermixed with your breaths was intoxicated. You reached for the hand that was at your cunt and brought it up to your mouth, licking his fingers and running your tongue over the joints. You could feel his grip tighten over your slowly numbing leg and opened your mouth a tad, so he could see your tongue swirl around the digits, smirking.

His next thrust wiped the smile off your face. He was hitting you in the sweet spot that sent you seeing stars, and the wet fingers went over to your hip instead, holding you firmly down as he wanted you. And you had no qualms about that. You could already feel a second orgasm growing.

Then you felt the sharp snap of teeth over your ear and Logan snarl, “Turn over. Now.”

You practically whined as he pulled out of you, quickly grappling a pillow and rolling over to your front. His hands parted your legs from behind and you heard him spit and shuddered as fingers ran through your swollen, wet folds.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, sweetheart,” he muttered above you.

You rocked your hips into his hand, looking over your shoulder and watching, hungrily, as he stroked himself while touching you.

“Why don’t you fuck me like you mean that then?” you said.

You memorised his buttons like a sailor memorised the stars. With a noise you were pushed forward, nose in the pillow you quickly managed to salvage, and then he was fucking you, one hand gripping your hip while the other slapped you sharply across the ass. You tried to match his speed but he didn’t let you, pressing you firmly down against the bed with his own weight until the only thing you could do was bite the pillow, crying out with every thrust.

A second orgasm was heating up inside you. One of his hands had tangled itself in your hair, every sharp tug only making your muscles tighten. You were overwhelmed with it all, euphoria like bright lights behind your eyes. You wanted to give yourself to him, every part of you until there was nothing left, opening up like a flower in bloom.

His weight shifted and you could feel him on top of you, feel the way his hot breaths landed on your skin.

“You close, baby?” he rasped.

You groaned and blabbered something that you hoped sounded like an affirmative. You were so sensitive and full, you knew you needed only a small push to tip over the edge again.

You felt his stubble scratch against you and then the telltale drag of his hand beneath, over your chest, down your stomach.

“Oh, god.”

His deft fingers were at your clit and you everything but mewled as he began to rub at it, every thrust hitting you perfectly. He was somewhere behind your neck, panting, pressing kisses and bites on your skin.

“Come for me,” he coaxed in a low voice. “You know I like it when you do. Come on, doll. Just for me.”

His fingers and his cock were all too much. You came undone with a loud cry, clenching around him as his fingers worked over your clit. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave and your thighs shook, gripping at the headboard as his breath hitched and he came too, fucking you through it, leaning heavily over your back. You felt your vision turn hazy and gave a moan as you felt him spill inside you, moving your hips what little bit you could into his jagged thrusts, eating up every breathless sound he made by your ear. He pushed into you a couple more times before halting, breathing like a bull behind your head.

Whimpering as he pulled out, you watched with sated eyes as he lay down beside you with a heavy groan.

“Shit,” he whispered, out of breath, and in your stupor you couldn’t help but smile.

The clouds ended up defeating the sun and with the blinds half drawn the room turned dark and grey. You were lying on your back and Logan sat on the edge of the bed to your left. You idly rubbed a hand over his back, the both of you comfortably nude, drawing shapes over the red marks you had made. In his left hand he held a lit cigar and was slowly turning his leather jacket around in his right.

“Is that a fucking bite mark?” he said with a snort, holding up the jacket.

You didn’t stop your hand. “I missed you,” you said, grinning at the ceiling.

Logan chuckled at that, giving the jacket one more look before throwing it over to a chair beside the wall. He took a quick drag and blew out strands of smoke. There was something aggressive about the way he smoked.

You ran your palm up to his shoulder, thumb making gentle circles in the skin.

“Did you miss me too, Logan?” you asked quietly.

There was that vulnerability again. You had never asked that question properly before, not without a defence of being coy or teasing. You began thinking of ways you could laugh it off when he sighed and brought his cigarette again to his mouth.

“I did,” he said.

You looked at him, at the familiar curve of his back, at the lines of muscle that you had long memorised and knew by touch. He didn’t turn around and he didn’t look at you yet somehow those were the most genuine words you had ever shared.

The bed gave a miserable creak as you sat up, reaching to put both your hands on his shoulders, pressing your chest against his back and tucking your chin into the curve of his neck. He sighed again, and leaned into your touch.

“I’ll have to go again soon,” he said.

“I know.”

“It’ll be a few days at the least.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, prodding gently at the scalp, tucking away the small, relaxed sound he made deep into your heart.

“I know, baby.”

He took a drag and turned his face away from you to blow away the smoke.

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x eader #wolverine #xmen #logan howlett smut #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine x female reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #hugh jackman characters #hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #xmen au #xmen fanfiction #hugh jackman x reader #logan howlett #wolverine smut

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black-lake · 1 year ago

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astro observations 11

your astro granny is back, I've been doing this for so long omg. some of it is venting, like always, so ignore that, but maybe don't you may find words of wisdom there. anyway, enjoy. also warning, it escalates to heavier subjects fast 🪐 🔭

——

🕰️ Virgo and gemini risings can pull off any type of glasses, sunglasses, bug-eye glasses, cat-eye, mirrored ray-bans, you name it. They even look cute with goggles no joke. They also make the smart and academia aesthetics look so cool and elegant in a chaotic way, not in a taurus capricorn way but in a- 'I spilled coffee on my boss's laptop this morning and I'm still talking about it way- because omfg- did you see the way they looked at me? it's like I've done it on purpose or smth but I didn't, not sure if they have a crush on me or they fucking hate me, what do you think? I'm pretty sure they don't hate me tho, but I can't tell, do you think I should quit?' 🎙️🎬

🕰️ I recently looked up George Clooney's chart and omggg, it all makes sense. The moon conj saturn in capricorn, giving him that nostalgic wise aura along his taurus sun, uranus and pluto opp ascendant kind of indicating finding his perfect partner later on in life, venus in aries and mars in leo, he's fiery but that fire so damn well contained with all the earth. His asc and jupiter in aquarius, yeah only an aquarius women with so much air and intelligence can maintain his attention and lock him in lmao. His synastry with Amal Clooney reminds of that of Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively. Manifesting a relationship like this for everyone reading 🧘🏼‍♂️✨

🕰️ Personal planets in scorpio 10° or 22° is a sexy mf combo, esp moon, venus, mars and asc, it gives bedroom eyes and seductive domineer, also godmade bone structures. 🗿

🕰️ Pluto opposite or square ascendant, a very classic aspect for friends/coworkers/admirers/people in general turning enemies and talking shit behind your back. This aspect can easily make people speculate, overanalyze your actions, assume things, spread rumors and lies about you out of jealousy and intimidation.

🕰️ Any planet conjunct the desc can bring the physical manifestation to that planet's shadow side, up to 10°. It can conceal traits of that planet in the sign it’s in, as it’s descending and escaping the sun’s light. Pluto on the desc brings a few shadow traits out of people and conceals their true intentions from the native. So the native has to face those traits, learn to see them from miles away, to discern what people’s intentions are and whether it's that or their own perception and fears. In other words, they start from naive to paranoid to bs detectors, and it takes a long painful journey to get there.

🕰️ Even tho personal planets on the desc are much easier to see and handle, venus on the descendant can bring shallow traits and empty promises out of people, mars on the descendant, not as easy, can bring out anger, toxic masculinity and aggression. Saturn on the desc can bring immaturity, irresponsibility, immoral and disloyal behaviors out of people, stagnation, delays in connection and loneliness, pushing the native to learn patience and endurance. The native will meet people with such traits over and over again until they learn to spot and discern them faster and take the right action. ☔️

🕰️ I’ll keep talking about it in this blog cuz it’s always been one of my biggest challenges. What I learned with pluto on the desc is that you will keep attracting the same kind of enemies to challenge you if you don’t own your power and stop diluting yourself for someone else's fragile power hungry ego, because people will have a problem with you anyway. Also don’t hold too tight to anyone, never be afraid to lose people, because trust me you will. Almost no one is meant to stay in your life, they’re meant to transform you and leave. The only thing you’re meant to rely on is your power and independence. The moment you see it the easier cutting ppl off becomes.

🕰️ I have venus in aries and I find myself always having a girl crush on celebs with this placement, Rihanna, Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, Jennifer Aniston. They all seem to share that fiery independence mixed with a childlike but fierce demeanor which I admire, plus they never age. 🐈‍⬛

🕰️ I have mercury in aries and mars in scorpio, but for some reason I’m fascinated by people with mercury in aquarius and mars in sagittarius, with mercury in aqua I always expect something fascinating about their minds but I can't guess it cuz it's always different, but females with mars in sag omggg the sass is hilarious, I can’t help but laugh when they get blunt, loud and shady out of nowhere lmfao.

🕰️ Speaking of placements I’m fascinated by, what’s the deal with moon in taurus? I keep thinking it must be… nice.. to have? people that have it are so grounded and serene it makes me think it’s the best moon sign. If you have it please share the emotional difficulties you experience, because I can speak of every moon sign emotional traumas in detail but for some reason I be romanticizing this one. ☕️

🕰️ Another placement I really admire is moon conjunct saturn, there’s just something unspeakable, that isn’t tangible (even tho they have timeless mesmerizing eyes) but on a soul level I can sense their wisdom and nostalgic aura. It’s like there’s a balance of feminine and masculine qualities which come out in their mannerisms. People that have it, Timothée Chalamet, George Clooney, River Phoenix, and every hot man ever.

🕰️ Have you ever asked yourself why Morgan Freeman has such deep unique and easily recognizable voice? It's his mercury conj uranus in taurus. Who else has an easily recognizable voice, Kim Kardashian, mercury conj uranus in scorpio.

🕰️ Having the axis of virgo-pisces over your sun-moon, like virgo sun opposite pisces moon, or mercury-moon can give someone a soft voice, their voice can even be therapeutic and healing. Think of Michael Jackson's speaking voice.

🕰️ The hardest aspect in any chart for me are oppositions or squares to pluto, saturn and chiron. These are easily the most challenging aspects you can find in a chart.

🕰️ Those that have lilith/pluto in the 1st, 6th, 7th, 10th, 11th tend to have haters in their workplace, in groups or wherever they go often. It’s saddening but I’ve seen it a lot. Can also make ppl copy your style or attitude then hate on it, and never admit they got inspired by you.

-- potential triggers in the following one, pls skip if necessary.

🕰️ Difficult planets on the angles, saturn, pluto and chiron mainly can truly mess with someone's mental health to the point of them wanting to- yeah that. The most drastic effect is when they sit on the descendant and MC, since it deals with connections, groups of people and the public, a lot of it is outside of the native's control, and at times more than what they can handle. Their usually painful past experiences and memories has shaped their perception of the world to a dark and despairing one where they don't see a better future for themselves. A few examples, Kurt Cobain (chiron and saturn conj desc and pluto conj asc all tightly opposing), Mac Miller (chiron conj desc, saturn conj asc and pluto conj MC). Marilyn Monroe (chiron conj MC and saturn close to the IC, pluto conj nn).

🕰️ I see every major astrological transit as a collective test, lesson and preparation for the next transit. It made sense that corona happened when pluto was in capricorn, a pandemic that restricted our freedom and made us prisoners in our own homes. There was a stellium of mars, jupiter, saturn and pluto all in cap the moment quarantine started in march. It was all about teaching us to respect societal rules and structures that keep us safe, whether it had to do with the government or the medical system, whether it was real or fake or real fake. Yes you have to give up some freedom for safety, that’s how surveillance and security cameras everywhere you go work, for your safety.

🕰️ It taught us to care for the health of humanity, to live responsibly and respectfully when in crisis, even if that means compromising our freedom and limiting our movement. Trusting that the structure built over the past decades is somewhat reliable and helpful. We saw how some people put their own freedom above anything and anyone out of superiority, that's the selfishness we collectively needed to face before pluto moves to aquarius and we are given freedom we didn't learn how to appreciate or use responsibly. We had to learn the value of personal freedom vs discipline and structure.

🕰️ There are two planets I’ve seen repeatedly in people that manifest like magic, saturn and neptune. To add a third it would be uranus. Conjunctions and oppositions to these planets are like superpowers in manifesting your desired reality. All work in different ways.

🕰️ For example people that have personal planets conjunct saturn (esp sun and moon) are easily attuned with the physical world and have some sort of control over time, turning it backwards or forwards, making themselves look younger and older at the same time, knowing the actions to take to bring anything into the three-dimensional world.

🕰️ Now this leads me to an astrology book I recently came across, the Alien Constructs the work of Edwin Steinbrecher and Stephanie Jourdan, discovering aspects that constitute an alien chart. The alien construct occurs when one of the outer planets, that is saturn, uranus, neptune or pluto, is conjunct or opposite the sun, moon, ascendant or the chart ruler. An individual that has one or few of these is different from other humans, they possess supernatural abilities, and typically have rough childhoods and adolescence.

🕰️ Every aspect with each of the outer planets has a unique ability, for example when the sun conjoins an outer planet it's called Power Alien Construct, the moon conjoining an outer planet is a Vessel Alien Construct, an outer planet conjoining the ascendant is an Instrument Alien Construct, an outer planet conjoining the descendant is a Shadow Alien Construct. Saturnian aliens are able to manifest things in the physical realm, plutonian aliens are masters of metamorphosis and irreversible change, uranian aliens are able to see the future and raise energetic frequencies.

🕰️ Sun conjunct pluto is Plutonian Power, aliens are able to destroy that which is not built upon truth, understand the true nature of birth, sex, death and power, generate energy and power, integrate polarities, perform psychic surgery, see beneath solid surfaces, shape-shift into animals, minerals or plants, heal utilizing sex, magnets or lasers.. etc. Moon conjunct uranus is a Uranian Vessel, aliens are able to comprehend the cycles and trends of the futures, safely corral erratic energy or electricity, channel high-frequency beings, telepath to imprisoned or trapped individuals or animals, sense the formation of inventions and innovations. Look it up, it's fun and tell me what alien construct are you and how you relate to it. oh it reminds me of a post I did a while back of aspects as superpowers.

Happy pluto in aquarius 🛰️✨ (will come back in years and see how this aged)

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