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yanderenightmare · 4 months

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TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, slave darling, crude and derogatory terms, classism, abuse of power, death threats

fem reader

Thinking about the poor kitchen maid who's suddenly told she's to be the spoiled Prince's new chambermaid.

It hasn’t even gone a day yet, but you already miss your job in the kitchens.

Sure, the sweltering heat of the ovens always left you in a state of fever, and kneading dough from dawn ‘til dusk made your arms acidic with burns – unyieldingly sore – not to mention never getting a chance to sit down and rest before collapsing in bed at the end of the day. But the smell of freshly baked buns and the chance to sneak a bite out of those that came out of the oven just a bit too burnt for serving had always felt like payment enough.

That and not having to deal with the royal family.

You know you should feel honored. You know it’s supposed to feel godsend to be picked to become the Prince’s personal servant. But… there was a reason he so often required a change of maid.

You still remember the last one they’d taken from the kitchen. She was pretty and young and shouldn’t have been working there in the first place – that’s what everyone used to say before she disappeared.

You wonder if such words carry curses… and what you did to deserve the same things being said about you.

You nearly cried standing outside The Prince’s chambers, chewing on your lip with his breakfast tray in hand, wondering what rumors were true – if he really was as terrible as everyone claims – wondering where the other kitchen maid went and whether you’d end up in the same place… wondering what you could do to keep it from happening.

You don’t know what you were standing there waiting for, nearly pissing yourself when you knew he was still out – busy hunting down a couple of runaway servants for sport. It was almost as though you feared the room itself, as though it would bite once crossing the threshold.

None of the sorts happened, though a gust of warm wind hit you like the breath of a beast once you opened the door.

Inside, there were around a dozen heads mounted on the wall – dragons, bears, lions, wolves, and other creatures you weren’t too sure of – all with mouths big enough to bite yours off.

You took only a second to look at them before they looked as though they’d leap from the walls and eat you alive, just like you’d predicted.

You set the tray of food down on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom to draw his bath – deciding work would keep your mind off it.

Stepping out a second later, you fixed a fire in the hearth and made to make the bed, stretching the duvet and the quilt over the massive mattress while eyeing the thread count with envy and the hand-stitching with awe. Left to wonder how many ducks had been shot to stuff the mountain of plush pillows he’d all but thrown onto the floor to make space for himself.

Walking through the steam to the bath again, you opened the cupboard to pick out soaps and oils – overwhelmed by the sight of every shelf stocked full of all sorts you’d never seen – glad you had somewhat decent reading skills – unlike many of the other maids.

Soaping the water, you sat on the edge and waited with a hand wading through the warmth – and while biting your lip, you let your mind wander again – daydream, like it so often did – imagining what it would be like to feel it on the rest of your skin, warm and smooth, sucking all the stress out and leaving you soft like a newborn.

He watched you enjoy yourself, his stark eyes calmly assessing what they saw with a tilt of his head – trailing from the tip of your worn-out shoes to the tattered edge of your grey maid’s dress, up your lap to the cinch of your waist where your white apron was bound – taking his time until your eyes fluttered open to find him standing there.

You nearly fell into the water, hopping up to a stance. “Sorry, your majesty- I forgot myself! Please forgive me.” You bowed, looking down at the muddy stains on your gray shoes – in anxious wait of his wrath.

But instead of a backhanded slap that would send you straight to the stone floor or a spit of venom which would make you flinch and cry, he spoke a calm and patient “Come here-”

Though spoken in a certain tone of authority that forced you forward in quick steps until stopping just short of him – still with eyes downcast.

“Mh, I'm glad they haven't run out of cute ones down there.” He said then, once you stood only a hair's length from him – voice just as calm as before and inspiring just as much surprise in you still, though now joined with visible confusion in the crinkle it caused between your brows. A furrow that only deepened once he reached out his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Your majesty?” You questioned.

“It’s master.” He corrected sharply, and you grew unsure if his voice wasn’t just cold rather than calm. “I like that better. Now quit wasting my time and undress me, slave – I have important shit to attend to today.”

You wavered only a second, feeling the words like a flick to the forehead. “Of course, your majes- master. Forgive me.” You blurted with hands quickly jumping forth to help detangle the knots keeping his robes together.

Small fingers working hurriedly to appease him, setting aside the light leather cuirass upon his dresser once loosening it from his torso – wondering if you should tell him your name, though thinking better of it as he’d opted for simply referring to you as a slave instead of asking.

You hadn’t been called that in a long while – slave – never by anyone in the kitchen, at least. You’d nearly forgotten it was what you were – a slave – and not just a busy member of the crown’s staff.

You bit your lip with another bow of your head, not wanting the Prince to see your face in its hurt while you undid the ties to the braces on his arms. The castle had become your home rather than a prison over the years, but… with the echo of your title wringing in that very heavy tone of his, along with standing there – bowing your head while undressing him of all fine body armor and robes – you couldn’t suppress the reminder of being of much lesser blood and birth. A fact that – despite never before having bothered you much – somehow seemed to strangle you now.

He’d dragged mud in with his boots – and given he’d not bothered taking them off, you were left to believe he wanted you to do it for him. And though humiliating as it was, you crouched down and began undoing the laces nonetheless – further feeling degraded while caressing the boot.

You pulled it off and repeated the action with the other foot – wondering if he meant you to remove his breeches and tunic as well until he, fortunately for you, lifted the shirt off and pulled the strings to the trousers himself. Leaving the undergarments in a pool on the floor next to you.

You kept your eyes down until he was completely submerged in the water, afraid to see something you weren’t allowed to – before getting up and padding back to the cupboard. You'd never been any lady's or lord's maid before, but you had been trained in the duties – and though heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of those duties, you still made to grab the soap and loofa in shakey hands before kneeling down on the stool next to the tub.

You’d never seen the prince if not from afar atop the castle balcony during speeches by his mother, the Queen – and had only ever heard of his appearance as something twisted and foul – but looking at him with his eyes closed, he really didn’t look as demonic as people had made him out to be. But further thinking about it, scrubbing his chest with soap and water and oil – you realized that none of those people were likely to have seen him up close either.

He looks every bit royal with his strength of face – cutting edges as though carved in marble, with chiseled muscles gleaming in the water and oil.

He was no doubt very handsome, you concluded silently – finally understanding why he was more of an eligible prince than what his attitude would otherwise allow – that, along with the kingdom’s riches, of course.

He sagged forward while you mindlessly amused your findings – though paying attention enough to take the cue – squeezing water onto his back with the sponge before rubbing over the broad flex of muscles, freezing once hearing him let out a heavy moan.

He leaned back again after you were done. Spilling water onto your dress once pulling his arms out to rest on the frame with a sigh – his chin tipped upward, lounging lazily on the back of the tub.

You reached for his face next – now with a silken cloth – stroking it lightly over the few droplets of blood splattered from when he must have cut into those poor runaways after hunting them down with swords and dogs in heel.

You shuddered some at the thought and must have let your eyes linger too long – or at least long enough not to notice him opening his – staring at you silently with eyes jaded in something that seemed to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, ma-” You tried, but he seemed disinterested in it, reaching for you with wet fingers rubbing on the hem of your collar.

“You’re not dressed properly.” He said then, voice lazy yet loud – unimpressed, though not enough to be outright angry.

Gulping at the feel of his large hand so close to your neck, your voice only barely held it together. “I’m sorry, master. They hadn’t the right maid livery in my size, but I’ll have it ready tomo-” You started, hands folded neatly on your lap.

“Take it off.” He interrupted.

You blinked – tensing with your throat closing – sitting there stunned for a moment before mustering an ever so hesitant answer.

“Your majesty?”

“It’s master. Don’t make me tell you again, slave." He growled through grit teeth right at your face after yanking you close by the fabric of your shirt. "And you either dress properly, or you go naked. And right now, it looks like it’ll be the latter. Unless you want to be whipped for poor servitude?”

Your eyes – moon-big now while you shook your head – breathing thin through your nose. “No, master... I’ll undress.”

“Good.” He broke off your collar, dropping you back down onto your seat on the floor before rising with water rushing fast and heavy down along his limbs, dripping onto you as he stepped out with an unfettered splash.

You got up as well, beginning with the buttons on your shirt. Feeling him eye you while he wrapped himself in the towel you’d laid ready for him – his burning gaze leaving you goosefleshed and nearly in tears, bashful as you stepped out of your skirt – naked before him.

You didn’t dare look – even as he stepped toward you. Keeping your head bowed low – breath in shivers while eyeing the hand he reached for you, his fingers stopping just short of touching your bare skin.

“Clean yourself.” He said then, wafting the same hand to the tub he’d just used. Still filled with bubbles of lavender, though no doubt also of his own grime. But you wouldn’t refuse, no matter the degradation – your thoughts still lingering on the former kitchenmaid who’d disappeared not long after becoming the Prince's personal servant.

You stepped in, feeling the warmth close around your legs – still hot enough to prickle. Lowering yourself down, you sat there – swallowed by the bubbles with the loofa in hand, lathering your flesh with the mix of oil, soap, and water – brushing off soot and sweat – leaving you soft-skinned and smooth to the touch, but also riddled with goosebumps that wouldn't lower under the heavy leer the Prince was giving you.

“Get out and come here.” He said a short moment later, and you got out as told – taking slow steps toward the man, with footprints leaving soapy puddles in their wake.

He reached behind you to pull the pin from your worker's bun, letting your hair cascade in flowy wisps down around your shoulders – before brushing them behind you to clear your face and chest.

He’d dried off but didn’t offer you the towel – having dropped it into a wet pile on the floor – now reaching out to feel the smooth gloss of your breasts with brazen digits. Inspecting and assessing while caressing their weight as you stood there with your head still hung down low – silent and shivering.

Soon his hands fell from your chest down to judge your every curve, sliding over slippery slopes until reaching your cunt – stroking two thick fingers through the drippy curls found there. Gliding them between the lips, he circled your clit with his middle digit – tickling you – while dark eyes watched your lip quiver with a power-hungry gleam.

Stepping closer, the small smirk stretched on his face brushed your hairline where you tried bowing your head even lower in embarrassment – with brows tremoring similar to the hands hanging loosely by your sides.

“Aren’t you gonna bleat like a little lamb? Hmm... slave?” He asked then – low in a whisper, blowing gently into the sweat of your hair – cold enough to make you shiver even more. “The slut before you did….” He added with his smirk sharpening – lips stiffening against your skin where he brushed them in halfhearted kisses down your forehead and temple until reaching the shell of your ear. “I had to wring her little neck just to make her stop squealing.”

You sucked your teeth on impulse, jolting just a bit but not enough to make the dire mistake of moving.

“I can tell you’re smarter. That’s good….” He continued with fingers kept at your cunt – playing your shivering core where you stood planted – dripping wet with bathwater and terrified of moving. “Weak little things like you do better understanding their place.”

Your hands formed loose fists, flinching at your sides as you kept from the urge to wring your thighs shut until he left your sensitivity alone.

“But smart or not, I believe you missed a spot earlier-” Both his hands found your hair instead. “So get down on your knees, slave.”

One paw cupped the back of your skull in a ponytail while the other laid flat on your scalp, pushing you down until he had you leveled with his throbbing manhood – thick and high-strung – blushed red and strangled with veins – bobbing with might against the ant trail leading up to his navel and looking every bit impatient to be served.

“Use this pretty head of yours to do better, and maybe I won't have to wring your little neck too.”

You eyed the swaying length with eyes crossing – sucking your lip at its intimidating reach and how it seemed to rise higher than your head – mumbling out a weak. “Yes, master...”

You dropped your jaw and produced your tongue – feeling him keep control of your head in his tightening hold, yanking your hair before you gave the large cock a flat lick – starting at the base of his balls until flicking off at the very tip.

Not too revolted by the mild taste of lavender and vegetable oil, you locked your lips around the head and sucked it in hopes he’d ease his grip.

“Sh-fuuhck- you really do know your place, huh slave?” He mouthed – his head hanging back in a heavy groan – holding your skull in both hands while using them to bob you against his crotch on repeat, lolling his hips inside the wet warm comfort of your mouth a little deeper for each time – only moaning with a laugh once you gave a whine for breath. “Sweet and obedient- just how I like- with a nice wet throat to fuck too….”

He thought of kicking you when you put your small hands against his thighs to brace yourself – but given how softly you held them there without nails and pinches, he decided he’d grant you the tiny mercy – thinking he’d later teach you to keep your hands on your knees when serving him head like a proper slave ought to.

Tipping his head back again, he looked down at you and the pretty curl between your brows and the cute sight of your teary eyes looking back up at him – giving a hiss at how it made his balls tug in excitement.

“Get up-” He growled, pulling you up by your hair and throat until you shoddily stood upright on unsteady feet – lightheadedly looking at him with dazed eyes and a wet pout. “’This tight cunt as loyal to the crown as your mouth, hm?” He asked with a hand smacking the soft place, making you yelp before he made to bury two of his thick fingers inside the taunt space.

You whined out softly at the intrusion – kept steady and close by the fist holding your throat in a choke – before he used the same hand to throw you over the bed – stomach first with a slap to your ass.

“Bow down, slave- and show me some fucking respect. You’re in the presence of royalty, remember?”

He mounted you with a pent-up groan – and a strong fist in your hair, pushing your face down into the mount of pillows you’d dallied with earlier. His knees dipped into the plush next to your hips, locking you beneath him with his spit-slickened meat resting between the soft valley of your ass, sliding between the cheeks impatiently.

Gathering your wrists in his other fist, he kept them crossed at the small of your spine – before pulling back and letting his cockhead fall right to your sweetly wet and welcoming opening – wasting little time in piercing it nice and deep in a direct aim – like an arrow shot straight through a target.

You winced and bucked your hips at the attack – feeling your walls weep and sting – fluttering hot around the size of it.

He leaned across your back – heavy against your shoulders with his mouth at your ear in gritty whispers. “I like docile slave girls like you who know a thing or two about pleasing a man. Good submissive sluts who understand they’re nothing but warm soft meat for men like me to devour.”

His words groaned in nibbling bites on your earlobe – with a hand kept strict and harsh in yanking your head back for him as he slowly started dragging himself out and stuffing you so fast you couldn’t keep from yelping at the breach. Toes gripping the cold rocky tiles as your legs shook under you – being rocked into harsh and deep by the muscle strength of the beast on top.

“I'm not the first one you’ve bent over for, huh?” He continued with a grin, haughtily chuckling in low breathy condescension. “Probably the first one you’ve had take you in a proper bed, though, hm? And not in a hayloft on whatever dirty farm you grew up on.”

Your fingernails punched into your palms where he wrung your wrists tight, keeping you pressed flat beneath him while he heedlessly rutted into you like you were nothing but his own snug fist.

“I bet the whole village had a go seeing how pretty you turned out.” He laughed again, scoffing at it with his tongue tickling your ear. “Did they all fuck you like this? From behind like a farm animal? On all fours with your pretty face moaning in the mud?” Simpering, he sped up as though aroused by his own words.

Twisting your hair tighter and groaning louder against your ear – chasing your deepest parts with balls clapping hard against your clit.

“You’re all fuckin' inbreds- It’s a fucking miracle your filthy parents created something like you- prettier than all the bratty princesses I have to listen to yap all day.” He moaned – now fully drooling against your face, nomming on your ear with heavy breaths.

Fully draping you in his sweaty muscles, you lay gasping beneath the weight – cunt clenching hard around his shaft – making him hiss.

“Ah fuck- It's nice coming home to an obedient slave- so tight and warm- grateful for a royal cock in your poor slave cunt, huh?”

You winced at his pounding, so deep you felt it choke you – making your stomach fold and curl, trying to protect itself from the assault. “Yes- thank you, master- thank you-” You cried while he placed sloppy layers of wet kisses down your temple and cheek in return – until finally pulling off.

“Come here, down on your knees-” Ripping himself to his feet, he pulled you with him by the fist riddled in your hair and pushed you down at the foot end.

Tugging on his cock in the other hand – quick faps in the slick – he kept you looking up at him while slapping the wet weight in sticky taps against your lips.

“Open wide, slave- here it comes-”

Only one more jerk and it all blew in thick white beams shooting across your face – spewing in clusters, hitting you once on your forehead and another over the nose - dripping to your lips into your gaping mouth where he focused on squeezing out the rest – tapping the plush creamy tip against your tongue while panting.

“Mh-fuck- clean me off and swallow.”

With breaths heavy and slowing, he detangled his hand from your sweaty locks and made to pet your head instead. Gently running his fingers over your hair while watching you obediently kiss and lick up all the spill in tired and slow yet devoted strokes with your tongue until it was all prettily wiped clean.

“Good slave.” The Crown Prince hummed then.

Finally sounding satisfied – still with a lazy hand holding your head where you so faithfully sat at his feet, swallowing his seed, while his satiated cock grew limp in regard.

“Now go wash off while the water’s still warm, and come out and help me get dressed.” He ordered, voice groggily soft in the after high. “I have a full schedule today looking at potential brides… and I want my little farm animal by my side to keep me going insane from boredom.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa

BLLK – Reo

DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

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goddessofwisdom-7 · 5 months

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I Gotcha.

Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo!reader

Description: three times you promised Luke that you got him. The two times he struggled to believe and finally when he did.

A/N: the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

************************************************************

The days spent at camp immediately after his failed quest were arguably the worst of Luke's entire life.

He had to drag himself back home with a burnt chunk of an apple, a dragon tooth and half his face destroyed.

You had nursed him back to health. Spending three days straight in the infirmary. The solo quest was a bad idea and you had known it. Luke had gone alone in some sort of attempt to prove himself, seeking glory but now this entire thing had backfired and you couldn't help but worry.

When he awoke he had stared in mute horror at the mirror you held up to his face.

"I tried to minimise the scarring as much as I could, Luke. I couldn't remove it entirely but with the correct balm and scar creams it'll fade," you had explained.

Luke knew you were the best the camp infirmary had but he couldn't explain the rage that boiled within him. This fruitless quest, with its dumb replication to Heracles' and his quest all for the sake of earning his father's attention had permanently marred him.

Physical proof of his father's neglect right there for everyone to witness.

And he would have to carry this stupid scar for the rest of his life.

"Luke?"

His gaze snapped to meet yours, softening slightly, as you placed the mirror facedown on his bedside table.

"Yeah?"

He didn't want to see sympathy in your eyes, no doubt too many campers will be looking upon him like he was a pitiful kicked dog, nor did he want to see disappointment; he wasn't quite sure how he'd stomach that.

But your face held neither of those emotions, instead a strong conviction resided in the lines of your face, lines that you were too young to have, that marked the effects of stress no adolescent should feel.

"I'm gonna take care of you Luke, okay?" You reached out and cupped his uninjured cheek, "I gotcha. I always gotcha."

And wasn't that something.

He reached out cupping your face in his hands, this was his whole world.

"Okay baby; yeah, please."

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Luke had miscalculated. He'd failed to retain the master bolt and the helm of darkness.

Now, he was being punished. Severely. And he hated it but he deserved it. He'd let Kronos down, he needed to learn his lesson so he never makes the same mistake.

The nightmares cut too much into reality though sometimes. His entire body lit aflame but it always got so much worse when he was forced to face a scenario where he had to cut you up so that your pieces would replace the Titan.

He never failed this test, but it always took the most out of him. Even if you always understood his anger, he wasn't sure you'd understand his methods; and at the crack of every dawn, he'd escape his cabin and run to the lake where he knew you'd always be. Like clockwork, watching the sun rise.

This time his skin buzzed with the phantom recollection of his nightmares, he had to scrub at his eyes to clear his vision a few times, mistaking the blood on his hands to be real in his fatigued state.

You sat on the deck, eyes fixed on the changing colours of the sky. He could hear your voice humming a soft nameless tune. This was your ritual, your futile attempts at interactions with your father as he burst across the heavenly dome on his sun chariot.

Nonetheless, Luke always enjoyed the sound of your voice. He'd appreciate it if Apollo never would.

You'd sense his presence as you always did in the early hours and you'd beckon him towards you.

Sitting by your side felt right, amidst all the tension he'd been under. The weight of all his plans. Your song was familiar, the heat and strength of your figure a comfort.

"Nightmares again?" You asked, knowing the answer regardless.

He'd nod.

There were a few truths he was allowed to tell you. Sometimes if he said it with enough of himself, he could fool himself to believe that all you knew weren't mainly lies.

"Come here."

And you'd guide his head to you lap, gentle– loving, like the first rays of the sun. You would card your fingers through his curls, and every now and then lightly ghost your fingertips over the scar on his face.

On occasion, Luke would dream that you were healing him, erasing his scars, erasing his pains.

"I gotcha Luke," you'd murmur, "I always gotcha."

Some mornings he'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

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"I gotcha baby," oh he's missed that voice, "I always gotcha, Luke." It's been too long. Days, weeks, months. Years.

You were crying.

Percy and Annabeth were crying too but–

You're crying.

Don't cry.

He's really tired, and it's getting difficult to take a breath. He figures this is the feeling of death and he's trying to not be afraid.

You reach for him, and he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you.

It's not so bad. Your face has always been what he'd like to see last. It's just–

There's so much to say. So many things he has to tell you, to apologise for, to confess, to love and there's no time.

You're so beautiful.

Even covered in soot and monster dust and blood.

Your hands cup his face, fingers instinctively brushing his brows and scar. You keep mumbling small comforts, little assurances. But you don't promise life, because that wouldn't be true and while Luke has been a deceitful liar, you have never been one yourself and you won't lie to him even now.

But you promise that you got him. And he believes you.

"I know baby," He huffs and tries to say, "but now...it's time– time to let me go."

It's a struggle. His vision is blurry, he's really tired.

So he focuses on the feel of you instead, letting his eyes close. This is just like falling asleep.

*****************************************************************************

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fic rec #pjo fandom #pjo fanfic #percy jackson #luke castellan #annabeth chase #lc

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sunderwight · 1 month

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Much as I love the idea of PIDW being rife with terrible porn tropes and interesting (if contrived) erotic writing conventions, all actual evidence in canon would seem to indicate that apart from some sex pollen and "uh oh, the protagonist has gone into a fugue state, whatever shall calm him down?" type stuff, it was fairly vanilla.

Like, that's part of both Shen Yuan and Airplane's frustration with it, I think. It's full of sex and it's not even sex either of them enjoy the concept of. Airplane was fully just trying to pander to an audience he felt he knew and could manipulate, but not one either he nor his ultra mega hate reader were actually part of.

Not that they understood that themselves at the time.

I mean I know fandom likes to make Airplane less closeted than Shen Yuan (for a lot of reasons), which I support, but I feel like in canon at least... he didn't cotton on to Luo Binghe's change in interests at first either. It wasn't until he was watching his protagonist obsess over resurrecting Shen Qingqiu at any cost that the light started to dawn. For Shang Qinghua, also, many more years have passed since he was back in their original world. He's had more time to reconcile himself to certain ideas.

What glimpses we get of the person he was before he died, was reborn, and lived a whole other life well into adulthood, would seem to indicate that he probably wasn't much better than Shen Yuan back when he was writing.

I mean he probably was still BETTER (the bar is on the floor), like I bet he could have a fantasy featuring Mobei Jun without having an existential crisis or pretending it didn't happen, but he would have probably been like "wow I guess I've been writing so much m/f porn that I can't even enjoy it anymore and my brain had to come up with something else, anyway Mobei would make a hot chick tho, I'm gonna write one of his cousins as Binghe's next wife" and gotten on with things.

Basically I guess what I'm driving at is that it would be funny if SQQ and SQH figured they had a solid handle on the kinds of sex pollen-y porn tropes to expect from the world (mostly just the occasional fuck-or-die that missionary can cure), only for the rug to get ripped out from under them because the system incorporated a bunch of stuff from Airplane's subconscious to fill out the gaps. Not even his notes. His daydreams and fantasies.

SQQ: what the hell?! PIDW didn't even have werewolves or tentacle porn monsters!

SQH, suddenly reminded of some very specific fap sessions: right?! this is definitely weird and in no way my fault! it must be because of the genre switch!

SQQ: *suspicious*

SQH: which is your fault! you made the protagonist gay! in fact it's probably your fault that I'm gay too now!

SQQ: bullshit. what did you do. was this in a draft?!

SQH: *sweating* I can say with absolute confidence that it was not! I never wrote anything like this!

SQQ: *having a crisis now because maybe he DID accidentally cause the monsterfucker stuff and he desperately doesn't want anyone to realize that he's actually into it*

SQH: *continuing to sweat because the world is consistently manifesting content from his personal spank bank and if cucumber ever figures that out he's a dead man*

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

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tiredmamaissy · 9 months

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode II

Concurrent Tides

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. Most illustrations are now on her patreon.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19) Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, aggressive rut cycle, heat cycle, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy/posessiveness, knotting, marking, scenting, praise kink, breeding kink, size difference, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, ralak is a bit of a meanie in this, let me know if I forgot anything? Word Count: 10k Requested: Yes || No Author’s Note: the second special episode is finally here. sorry it took forever to get it out, but better late than never :') i hope you guys enjoy <3 theres another part to come after this one! 🤍 Synopsis: what happens if you and your new mates cycles sync?

<- Previous Next ->

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“Only I knot you.”

That was the first time you’d ever seen Ralaks eyes shift in colour. That same night right after he pulled you out of his memory of his first rut. A beautiful, deep blue, glistening before your honey glazed orbs. It’s barely been a week since that night, yet it replays over and over. Day and night. How he looked at you with nothing but unadulterated greed, hardly catching his breath as he tried to steady his galloping heart. It was something deep-rooted and primal.

Something animalistic.

Since, you’ve longed to see him fully immersed in such a state. A state where self control and sexual desire no longer coexist. He’s always too concerned with you and what he thinks you can and cannot manage that he never allows himself to do what he truly wants. The level of restraint you feel through the bond is indescribable. A level you nor any other na’vi could conceivably attain. Regardless, most nights you find yourself fantasizing about this ‘lack of control’ right before bed.

Nights like tonight.

Where the stars shimmer so brightly that you need to draw the curtains, and the air is exceptionally cold and crisp that you need to huddle closely together for warmth. When your nose is buried so deep into his chest that there's no other choice for his scent to fill your lungs. And tonight he smells extraordinarily good. The salt of the sea mixed with leather hide. And oddly enough, he smells like… home. The forest and its greenery. It’s quite ironic but perhaps it’s Eywa’s way of saying that this man is truly yours. It's so comforting and right. Like a cup of hot tea on a stormy night, never failing to put you to sleep. A remedy that works in seconds — but not tonight.

Tonight you’re restless and he can sense it.

“What is it?” Ralak husks, shifting his position to hold you a little closer. “Cold?”

Truthfully, you’ve been feeling a little off. Your body has been restless and haunted. As if it could sense some sort of change of shift in the atmosphere. Or perhaps it was between the two of you. “No.” You mumble, lifting your head to look up at him. “Just can’t sleep.”

Ralaks ears twitch, a little surprised his typical soothing techniques aren’t working. He sits up quite quickly, bringing you up with him as he scoots back into frame of his bed. His brows lower when he ponders about what could be keeping you so on edge. He takes note of your flushed appearance and the minute changes in your eyes, they’re glowing a little brighter recently.

His brows jump when the realisation dawns on him.

Could it be? He knows it’s close but is it really already affecting you? How is that possible? And does that mean it will be even more severe this time around?

He had every intention to stay but perhaps it’ll be more difficult than he expected. He should really tell you, but he knows exactly how that would play out. You would get your way as per usual, it was hard for him to deny you of anything you wanted. A quick swish of your tail and it was yours. Ralak took pride in caring and providing for you. But not for this. This was just plain dangerous. And therefore he couldn’t allow you to figure it out. It’s ultimately safer that he keeps it to himself, at least until you’ve adjusted to him a little more. Your intimate moments together are very few in number after all.

“Why is that, tanhì?” He asks in a low, steady tone, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face.

You may be a slow learner, but you weren’t slow. You could sense that he wasn’t being all that transparent with you.

“I don’t know. Something feels off about you.” You say in an almost accusatory tone, finally sitting up to look him in the eye. He’s pale in the face and his breath becomes raggedy. “Tell me, Ralak.”

You watch as his pupils constrict, leaving nothing but a black dot in an open sea of blue. Within a matter of seconds, they deepen in colour and his eyelids flutter shut. He clears his throat, and waits a few seconds to open his eyes. They’re back to normal but you could’ve sworn they looked different. Just like they did a few nights ago.

“What just happened to your—” Your heart begins to race as you utter the words, only to be cut off by Ralaks hasty voice.

“Inland. Tomorrow morning. Overnight hunting trip.” He grinds them out as if it physically hurts to say the words. Anything to keep you from figuring it out.

What? Is he — lying to you?

This isn’t like him. He avoided trips inland at all costs. Anything to stay with his tanhí. He’d even go as far as faking an illness, despite rarely getting ill, to get out of accompanying Tonowari. Especially for overnight trips.

“And why did you not tell me earlier?” You manage to squeak out a closing throat, backing away to create a little distance.

He shakes his head as he blinks rapidly, staying put to allow as much space as you need. “I was hoping I did not need to go.” He utters, dropping his head to lock his gaze on your twiddling thumbs. His eyes trail up your dark blue frame, taking note of how your body is already almost trembling —already responding to him— all out of your control. He bows his head, hiding his face. “But it seems that I cannot get out of this one. I am sorry, my paysyul.”

For a fleeting moment, you really thought this was the beginning of something bad. Something deceitful. But, his words instantly bring you comfort, slowing your leaping heart and putting your mind at ease.

But the funny thing is that there was no lie.

There was really an overnight trip inland with Tonowari. One that Ralak arranged himself. Tonowari was especially taken aback by Ralaks suggestion of a hunting trip and immediately queried if he was alright, putting a firm hand on his forehead to determine if he had some sort of fever. But once Ralak explained himself, Tonowari was smiling and laughing, smacking a few blows on his back as a form of approval, teasing him yet again about ‘the love story between an Akula and an ilu’.

Your sigh brings Ralak out of his deep thought, chin leaving his chest to witness you sliding back into bed, turning on your side and backing up onto him. A smirk pulls at the his lips as he joins you, enveloping you in his warmth once more. A wave of relief washes over him as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. He’s thankful that you didn’t press any further. Otherwise, he would’ve had to reveal his best kept secret.

His upcoming rut.

——

The harsh thump of Ralaks heart rouses him to the sight of his mate clung to his chest. He admires your beauty, allowing his eyes to fall on your chest, watching closely as you breathe slowly. He gently pulls back the thin sheeting covering your body, exposing your puffy nipples to the cool morning air. When they stiffen into peaks, saliva pools in his mouth. At this point he would have looked away because of basic na’vi decency, but this morning is different.

He allows himself to stare. To take in every detail on your chest. To sear it into his memory so he can visualise you just like this as he relieves himself. Exposed before his eyes, supple skin glistening as the rays of sunlight reflect against your freckles, exposed, stiffened nipples, that act as the perfect bait to lure in a hungry predator.

Predator.

That’s what he’ll be in a matter of minutes. Nothing but a slave to his own urges and instincts. Ravenous. Insatiable. Voracious. With not even a sliver of self composure left to hold onto an ounce of rationality. He can already feel it creeping up on him, the hunger deep in his core turning him into the beast that he appears to be on the outside. It’s always been like this. A little too much. Too overwhelming.

Too aggressive.

And as the years passed it only worsened. Six unmated years. With no one but himself to make it through the tortuous few days. He just knows that he would be too rough with you. It’s his biggest fear, after all. To have no self control. To hurt the one thing he loves more than Eywa’s gift of life itself. He would sacrifice his own (life) if it meant to save yours.

He was hoping to endure it. Bite his tongue through it and be by your side. Perhaps take a long bath in the lake and crawl into bed after you’ve gone to sleep and relieve himself as quietly as he can. But now that it’s here in full bloom, he’s already having a hard time containing his urge to spread your legs and use you as his own personal fucktoy.

But you’re more than that to him.

And this is why he’s choosing to leave before you wake. Before he can no longer contain himself to just staring at your bare chest. Before he pulls the sheet down even further and parts your legs—already trembling from his leaking pheromones—and has a taste of his sweet, sweet tanhí. Rather, he uses his last shred of self composure to plant a firm kiss on your forehead before quickly gathering his gear and heading out the door.

Unbeknownst to him, you were awake the entire time.

You could feel his eyes bore into your tiny frame as the crisp morning air grazed past your nipples, just like you could feel the roughness of his kiss right above your brow. You wanted to open your eyes but the way his pheromones waft up your nose had you in a foggy trance. Your eyes burned under your eyelids and your body felt so heavy and hot.

You couldn’t help but think, is this his rut?

To be influenced by his cycle? You had felt it before. His first rut in the flashback, but it was nothing like this. Sure, it had you shivering and a little on edge but this was to another level. You could barely open your eyes, much less get out of bed. This entire time your body has been sending warning signals that its mate was peaking in his cycle — restlessness, clinginess, the nesting. You had unknowingly gathered enough fruits and grains to last you a few days. Even in this murky state of mind you finally manage to link the pieces of the puzzle together.

Listening to his footsteps as he walks out the marui, you muster up as much strength as you can to open your eyes. It’s blurry and honestly all just one blob. You could only make out a few colours trailing behind this gentle giant—green, blue and orange. All of which mix together and move like the aurora in the night sky. If one could see what a pheromone looks like, this would be it. When you finally get enough strength to part your chapped lips to mutter his name, the colours disappear as the marui flap closes behind him.

You really thought that once he left and the room aired out, that the influence of his pheromones on your body would lift as well. But you were wrong. Instead, the heaviness of your body grew tenfold, making it hard to breathe. It’s as if your lungs were filled to the brim with cold water, yet they burned as you squirmed around to fill them with air. The fire in your lungs quickly spread to your extremities, leaving your entire being in a sweltering inferno.

This feeling is familiar, yet foreign all at once. A desire so extreme it burns from within. The desire to be connected with your mate on all levels known to the na’vi. To satiate the itch of your empty, fertile womb by filling it with his seed.

Why did you have to get your heat now?

You call for Ralak a few times in your dazed state, only for you to be reminded by nothing but the crash of the waves that he’s gone. Soon the heavy rumble of the waves is drowned out by your whimpers and whines as you call for your mate to no avail. All you can manage to do in your feverish haze is kick off whatever cloth is stuck to your body, curl into a ball and rock to ease the unbearable sensation between your legs.

All until you hear a familiar, husky voice.

“I was doing some sessions with Ronal and—”

“R-Ralak?” You call out in relief, hoping your prayers have finally been answered. You roll onto your side and squint at the figure in the door frame.

“Uh. Not quite.” He quickly mutters under his breath, moving his forearm to shield his nose from your strong pheromones wafting his way. “Eywa—” He mumbles the great mothers name like a curse as he looks around the marui for your mate. “Where is Tak?”

Tak?

The more you squint your eyes, the more you’re able to make out who this figure standing in your doorway is. Your blurred vision clears just enough to reveal the unforgettable, brawny features of no other than Ka’ani.

“Ka’ani?” You say the name slowly, unsure if you should believe your eyes.

“Hah. What do you know…” Ka’ani scoffs, moving his arm from his face to lean in to get a better look at your condition. You’re panting yet shivering, glazed in your own sweat and slick. He smirks a little as he pulls back, spitting out the words, “…bitch in heat.”

“What are you... d-doing here? You should leave!” You try to shout, although it comes out more as a hoarse cry.

“Why should I? It looks like you need a hand.” Ka’ani jesters, physically extending his hand towards you as he wiggles his thickset fingers.

“Haa. I really don’t.” You pant, hugging your knees to your chest even tighter.

“You’re sitting in a puddle of your own sweat.” Ka’ani’s voice is harsh, yet laced with concern. “And whatever else is coming out of you.” His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks away from you, seemingly out of — respect? He catches sight of the full bucket of fresh water at your bedside, along with empty drinking bowls.

Has she not been tended to all day? Not a sip to drink? Ka’ani thinks to himself, concerned as to why Tak’s mate would be alone, uncared for and in heat of all things.

You finally muster up the energy to tug the sodden sheet over your naked body and scoot back further to the frame of the bed. “Ralak said he will be back soon. You should leave if y-you want to live.” You lie, feeling a little threatened that a male na’vi has barged into your marui while you’re in heat.

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, y/n. None of this makes sense.” Ka’ani speaks, taking a few steps towards you.

You shuffle even further back only for your back to make contact with the bed frame. A rush of fear surges through you. The type of fear that has your heart twisting behind your ribs. You cross your legs over one another, bunching up the sheet between them and beg with trembling lungs, “P-Please, Ka’ani. Don’t.”

Ka’ani stops dead in his tracks, seemingly offended by your assumption that he’d be approaching you to do something that the great mother herself would look down upon. Sure, he tracked your scent last time, but he was here atone exactly for that.

“Syor [relax]. I would never do such a thing.” He says through gritted teeth, storming towards the bedside and quickly pouring you a drink. “No matter how strong your scent is. Although, you don’t smell all that great now that you’re mated.” He chuckles lightly as he hands you the drink. Your eyes jump between him and the cup in his hand before you struggle to sit up. His hand instinctively reaches out to assist you, but you bat it away and continue to pull yourself up.

“Just — let me help you.” He snaps, supporting your back when you finally give in. “Drink.” He commands, plunking the cup in your hand, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

You gulp down the water greedily, finally quenching your thirst and hoping it will provide some level of relief to your febrile condition. You hum to yourself as the water makes its way down your throat, but groan when you feel no better. Meanwhile, Ka’ani takes in your state, feeling a twinge in his heart for you when he sees how you’ve been suffering. You look more than uncomfortable. You look like you’re in pain.

“You’ll be alright, y/n. Just tell me where he went and I’ll go fetch him.” He speaks in a more gentle tone, taking the empty cup from your hand.

“I-I don’t — haah. He said he went… He went inland to hunt.” You blubber out, feeling your body heat to a dangerous degree. It has you shaking as you ease yourself back into a more comfortable position.

Ka’ani shakes his head a bit, “Inland to hunt? Really? When his mate is in heat? Tak would never. The only time he’d ever do that is if he is also… in rut.” Ka’ani stalls on the last few words that slip off his tongue, tasting them in his mouth as the realization sets in. Ka’ani quickly fills the cup, sets it next to you and bolts to the door. Before he ducks under the flap of your Marui, he looks over his shoulder and reassures you.

“Sit tight, forest girl. I know exactly where he is.”

— —

It’s been a few hours since coming to his usual spot — the waterfall with the coldest water known to the reef people. It is Ralaks most private and intimate place aside from his humble abode. A place where only a select few people know about. He’s most drawn to the low temperature of the water, making it a perfect environment to endure the heat of his rut in.

Despite doing this for the past few years, each cycle gets a little more intense. And this one is certainly no exception.

Ralak sits underneath the overhang, right in the dip of the plunge pool, and allows the water to beat on his back. He’s maintained this position for the past few hours, only releasing himself when the pressure in his core grows too much. A pressure so immense it would have his body acting on its own accord — a wandering hand finding its way to his swollen cock.

Truth be told, he hated the feeling.

He hated feeling so out of control. To be nothing but a slave to his own primal impulses. He’d fight it as much as he could, just like he is now, until the sensation is just too intense to ignore. Until he’s grunting and squirming with a body so heated it has him grinding his teeth.

He quickly stands up, tilting his head back and covering his face from the stream of the water with his hands. At this point his cock is so swollen that it’s outright painful, throbbing and pulsing from the lack of attention. He thinks of you — your thin tail and tiny stature. The way you lay in bed this morning before he left. Naked and exposed before his eyes. Eywa, how he wishes you were here. How he could finally spend his rut with his mate, but he just knows it would be too much for you to handle.

The thoughts of you make this no easier, sending his hips thrusting into the air — the running water stimulating his thudding cockhead. He groans from the immense pleasure a little water brings him. He’s neglected himself so badly to the point that he feels like this could really make him cum. But how many times has he cum by now?

Once? Twice? Thrice?

He lost count after the fifth time, not that he was keeping track anyways. If anything he was downright denying himself the pleasure, and convincing himself that he remained in control. But fuck, the image of your delicate body —the possibility that he could break you if he weren’t careful— pushes him over the edge. Before he can stop himself, his hot cum is spilling from his slit all over the length of his cock and he’s unable to keep his noises at a minimum.

“Mmmph.” His deep growl rumbles, a hand grabbing a firm hold of his jumping cock.

He squeezes what’s left out of his slit, finally looking down to see the state of himself. It’s red and raw — spikes fully erect and balls drawn so close to his body they’re practically hiding behind his thick knot. He lets out a loud sigh.

Relief.

Finally, he leans back against the rocky wall and slides down into the plunge pool, immersing himself chest deep into the water. He lightly treads back to the bank and makes himself comfortable — allowing his head to rest and body to relax. He takes a few deep breaths and tunes into the burble of the waterfall.

All until he hears the click of a —

Ka’ani?

“Tik-Tak.” Ka’ani clicks melodically, cautiously approaching the giant submerged in the waterfall. Ralak doesn’t budge. He remains fixed in position, eyes shut, head and elbows resting on the edge of the river. His chest heaves harshly as he attempts to remain in this less than tranquil state. “Never thought I’d see the day Ralak leaves his mate in heat. To be soaking in a waterfall of all things.”

Perhaps Ralak heard wrong. Leaving his mate in heat? Ralak would know if his mate were in heat. He would sense it. Whatever rubbish he’s spewing out, Ralak doesn’t have the time, nor patience, for it.

“Skxawng, what are you on about? Leave me be.” Ralak huffs, wiping the sweat from his face with a quick hand movement.

“Just as I thought. You’re all hot and bothered too, aren’t you?” Ka’ani chuckles.

“Leave.” Ralak says angrily, his purplish-blue eyes finally snapping up to meet Ka’ani’s. “I have just calmed.”

Ka’ani’s brows knit together, offended and a little confused with himself for being upset from the way Ralak is shooing him away.

“Oh c’mon brother. All I’ve been told today is to leave!” Ka’ani’s hands fly up as he takes a step forward. “First your mate, and now you. Am I really that unwanted?”

Now he’s got Ralaks attention.

Ralak gets a whiff of your sweet, sweet pheromones on him. As if he’s been around his tanhì. Scenting his tanhì. Touching his tanhì. His primal urges devour him once more, eating away at him until nothing but a possessive beast remains. One of pure territorial instinct.

“What did you do?” Ralak growls through a clenched jaw as he jumps out the water and approaches Ka’ani. “Scenting my mate again?” His voice booms as it increases in volume, yet lowers in depth. “Answer me. Did you touch her?!”

“No!” Ka’ani blurts out, now taking a few steps back with his hands splayed out in front of him. “Is that what you both really think of me? This is the last I ever do some—”

Ralak remains silent, taking quick, calculated strides directly towards Ka’ani, who is now backing up into a tree. Once his back hits the scaly bark, Ralaks' balled fist slams into the trunk, barely an inch away from Ka’ani’s skull.

“Alright! Alright. I know what I did before. I-I’m sorry. I came looking for you to apologise for that but I found her in heat. Okay? I came here as soon as I realized.”

Unsure of whether or not to believe a word coming from this skxawng’s mouth, Ralak steps away from his prey, bloody knuckled and full of uncertainty. But the one thing he is certain about is the fact that he wants no other na’vi to find you if you really are in heat. With a huff of defeat, he pushes past Ka’ani and bolts for the shore.

——

The trek back to the marui is twice as quick. Your pheromones are thick and potent, affecting him even a few feet away from the marui door. And when he steps through the marui door, he’s completely inundated with the thick fog of your pheromones. He feels lost in himself, struggling not to succumb to his instincts. Struggling to regain control.

“Ma’ L-Lak?” You mewl shakily.

You can smell him, just like he can smell you. It only drives you further into your heat, your trembling body now shaking a little more. Sensing that your mate is in close proximity, your scent glands release more of your aphrodisiac to lure him in. In turn, this has its effects on your body — sending you into a submissive state where you feel too heavy to even lift a finger. You lay there, legs splayed out and glossy fingered.

You watch through blurred vision as the tall and thick silhouette quickly makes its way towards you. Ralak grabs and firmly holds your legs back as he leans in close, making the confirmation that his mate is indeed in heat. He lingers a little longer than he can control, taking everything in him to pull away and calm down — panting and out of breath.

“It is true.” He huffs, towering over your tiny, shivering frame. “In heat.” The two words drip off his tongue, much like the thick nectar dripping from your slit.

“Lak. Oh — lak. ’ts you.” You cry out in relief, clawing at his thigh to bring him back to you, “‘m so happy it’s you ‘nd not someone else.” His teeth grit as your hand grazes his thigh, but he remains fixed in place, unsure of his ability to keep his composure if he allows himself to give in to your touches.

What is he supposed to do now?

He didn’t think this far into his plan… for once in his life. Typically he’s quite calculated and certain of his next move but now — now he’s not sure how he’s going to deal with this. He just knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. Not for another man to find and claim you in the way that only he should. But he has to remain himself. For you. He swallows down his uncertainty before speaking.

“I should have stayed.” He looks down at the flushed, puffy flesh between your legs with a rapacious glint in his eye. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just p-please. It’s to-o much. T-Too hot. It aches, karyu.” Ralak winces when you groan the last few words, it’s almost painful to resist you at this point. You go to claw at this thigh once more, only for him to shift away. “No, don’t do that. Not right now. N-Need you so ba—”

“My rut came. This morning.” He’s quick to cut you off with a strained, yet monotonous voice, unable to peel his eyes away from your swollen cunt.

“I-I know.” You pant, earning a twitch of Ralaks brows. “‘nd t-that’s good. Ngh—that’s really good, I-I can help you too.” You mumble, sticking your hand between your legs to fondle with yourself. With the way he grimaces one side of his face, it seems as if he wants to look away, but can’t.

“No, tanhì. We spoke of this.” His accent is thick as he struggles to string the words together, “No control. Trying hard…” he inhales quickly, eyes plastered to the sight in front of him, “…not to lose it.”

At this point the haze of your heat has you lethargically shaking your head from side to side, mumbling whatever frustrated-fueled words that first come to you “…haven’t cum yet…”, you squirm around to find a position that allows your wandering fingers better access to your hole, “…need to cum.” You slur the words as you barely slip two fingers inside you and you quietly sob when they provide very little release.

“Ralak!” You cry loudly enough to at last lure his gaze up to yours, the night sea finally meeting the roaring flame. Your voice quiets down into a soft whimper, “Please. Just t-try. Please.”

A moment of silence passes where you and Ralak stare at one another, hearts pounding and chests heaving, understanding exactly how the other feels. The burning desire to come together. The resistance, yet the lack of control. The eternal flame within. The heat.

Ralak breaks eye contact to glance at your slender fingers working as hard as they can. He breathes a heavy sigh, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving you when he sees just how raw you are from being in heat all alone. He’s responsible for you even being in this bad of a state, isn’t he? Leaving you before sunrise with nothing but a kiss on the head. If anything that only made it more intense for you. He wants to — no, needs to care for you. It’s what every part of himself is urging him to do.

“The thought of another finding you… like this.” Ralak rasps as he closes in on you, “so vulnerable… it makes me — haah.” He cuts himself off with a shaky sigh and a clench to his jaw. Beads of sweat ball on his temples, slowly rolling down his angular jaw to eventually meet and drip from his chin onto your stomach. He looms over you, his hair flowing forward when he suddenly grabs and tugs at your wrist in one swift move, yanking your fingers out of you.

“Ss-ah!” You hiss with a wince, heart skipping a beat when you realise that he’s barely there anymore. “I-It makes you, what?” You ask quietly — nervously, even.

A bestial growl begins to rumble in his chest, causing a shiver to ripple through you—hardening your nipples into peaks within seconds. Jawbone fluttering from his reluctance to answer, he harshly cups your pussy with his hand, causing you to gasp. His sharp, intimidating stare locks with yours, brows tensing as he allows two, thickset fingers to slip down to your slickened opening. His growl fades into a single, drawn out word.

“Nìfmokx. [jealous]”

His admission slips past his lips just as his fingers sink into your aching core, leaving your mouth agape and hot tears spilling over your cheeks. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Ralak is used to feeling. Much less something he would subject you to experience with him. But you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, as they flicker from a dark blue to something even deeper. It’s the way his stare bores into your innermost being as he fills you up with his digits alone, telling you that you were his, and his only.

He hooks his fingers right into your gummy walls, holding his position as he moves his hand in an up and down motion at full tilt. The tips of his fingers repeatedly slam into your swelling sweet spot, coaxing out broken, filthy noises from your throat. He hums with pride, yet his face remains stone cold, minus the occasional twitch of his jawbone. He’s trying so hard to keep at a steady pace, and not to be too rough with your fragility.

“Oh f-fuck.” You curse under your breath, both hands grabbing a firm hold of his forearm. You’ve been unintentionally edging yourself all day that you’re already almost there. And no matter how hard you squeeze and claw at his now-veiny arm, he remains unmoving.

“Go on, then.” He huffs impatiently as he looks down at you, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your heels sink into the bed when you push your hips into the air, fingernails digging into his skin as you near your first release. You begin to whimper, bucking your hips to chase the feeling of relief. It’s right there. It’s so close; and you just need to allow it to wash through you. You tense up so badly your whole body shakes, sending your teeth chattering and your bottom lip quivering. You swear you can see the stars from the night sky litter your vision and feel your heavy lids flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Ralak demands in a sharp, gruff tone. Your glossy eyes shoot back up to his, and you start to sputter out whatever gibberish comes from your mouth — a few curses mixed with his name and your fathers’ mother-tongue. He continues to glare down at you with a rigid face, tensing his jaw as he wills himself to be gentle and patient with you. “Good. Now cum, little one.”

Your pathetic noises suddenly fade into a sweet, little cry. A cry of relief when your frustration washes away as you finally come undone on his fingers. The alleviation is so intense that it’s almost consuming; “T-Thank—” you collapse back down onto the bed, “—you. Thank you—haah, thank you karyu.” You pant repeatedly, his forearm ripping from your grip when he unexpectedly wrenches his fingers out of you. You squirm from the sudden emptiness, “Wait—”

“Do not thank.” He spits the accented words as he stumbles back to create some distance between the two of you. He pants as he attempts to recollect himself, his face of stone finally screwing into something of a grimace. “So…if another na’vi found you, would you thank him too? Hm?”

“Lak. I… N-No.” You stutter, unsure of what to even say.

“You are mine. My mate…” he growls through thinned lips, “My duty. Understand?”

“Yes.” You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. It arouses you to see him so jealous. So possessive. So assertive.

Ralak slams his eyes shut and gulps so hard it’s audible —visible even. You could see the bump in the column of his throat quickly undulate, his chest heaving harshly and his shoulders dramatically rising and falling with each breath he struggles to take. And for a while, there’s nothing but silence and his heavy breathing that you feel the overwhelming need to break it.

“Ralak.”

Your trembling, tiny voice snapping his head back up to you, once tightly closed eyes now flying open to reveal the most beautiful shade of mauve. They pierce into you like a spear through an unsuspecting prey, full of nothing but pure, unadulterated greed.

You never thought you’d see them again except in that vision. You get lost in them for a little, studying how the gold ring around his blown pupils still remains even in a sea of indigo.

You sense that he’s in the thick of his rut now and you need to relieve him soon, like he did for you. Or only Eywa knows what will happen. You allow yourself to finally take in the man before you in full, eyes trailing down his sweaty, muscular physique — perfectly carved v-lines and six fingered tattoo — until they land on his aching cock.

Oh, fuck. Is he bigger? You think, admiring his mushroomy head and erect spikes. It’s oozing and dripping, unable to keep still from how hard it’s pulsing. It’s at least an inch bigger than usual.

You look away to study his facial expression and by the way he’s looking at you, you can tell he’s waiting for your command, trying his hardest to prevent himself from pouncing on you and fucking you senseless right here and now. You’ve never seen him this way before. Straining so hard to keep himself in one position and struggling to keep his hands to himself.

“Ralak… More.” You spread your legs as wide as they can go, holding them apart by the bend of your knees, exposing yourself completely. His heavy lidded eyes widen almost as much as your legs, pointed ears flicking upwards in excitement when he sees you assume such a vulnerable and submissive position.

“Y/n.” He groans, voice thick with arousal and want and maybe a little desperation as he takes in the sweet sight of your still-pulsing and swollen clit poking out between your folds. “I am… losing control.”

Hearing your name fall from his lips in this way — this tone, instantaneously reignites the flame in your core. In seconds your slit is practically dripping, forming a pool of your slick underneath you. “Good.” You pant as you stare up into his slit-like pupils. You swallow quickly before mustering up the courage to invite the beast in. “Now…remind me who I belong to.”

How could he resist now?

With the way you’re talking and your pheromones so pungent that they fill his lungs to the brim with no space for any other option but to fall into the thick of his rut. Before you can formulate another thought in your foggy state, Ralak has your legs pinned back and is diving nose first into your cunt.

He wastes no time to have his fill of you, lapping up your juices so desperately your body moves from the force of his licks. He has been wanting to taste you ever since you made a mess on his fingers, fuck — ever since he got a whiff of your scent from outside his marui door, but denied himself the pleasure in the case he couldn’t stop himself from going any further. But now, all restraint and denial is now left out at that very door.

The flat of his tongue trails up your inner thigh and then back to your folds, tasting a mixture of the sweetness of your slick and the saltiness of your sweat. He groans when his tongue finally grazes past your clit, feeling it throb against his taste buds. He lingers there for a while, swirling and sucking on you until he unlatches to come up for a quick breath of air.

“Fucking ftxìlor [delicious].” He gasps out a curse, shoving your legs even further back to have seconds of his meal.

It becomes evident that he’s doing this for himself. Because if he were doing this solely for you, he would have made you cum by now. He’s eating you out as if he’s been starved for weeks, sucking and popping off your clit just to lap up the sweet, sticky nectar seeping from your hole just to coat his tongue.

He’s nowhere near as quiet as he usually is, grunting and groaning as he swallows your juices. His fingernails dig into your thighs as he tries to keep himself from being too rough with your tiny, dainty body. But, his attempts prove to be futile once you feel your hips lift off the ground from his grip tightening around your thighs. You stare at the sight of your mate between your legs, crinkling his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he can’t stop himself from indulging in his urges.

“Fuck me!” You let out a frustrated moan, your heat having you so on edge you need to cum again.

His eyes fly open, and within moments he’s tucked under your hips, pelvises flush together as he rests his throbbing, neglected cock between your folds. His tip touches your belly button with ease, beads of precum oozing out of his slit one after the next.

“This is what you want, yes?” He bucks his hips into you, the tip of his cock smearing his slick all over your deep blue skin.

“Fuck, yes.” You whisper shakily, chin meeting your chest to look at the masterpiece he’s painting on you. “I want my mates cock.”

He only responds with a rough growl, flipping you over and pushing you onto your stomach.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, a little afraid of what you’ve gotten yourself into. But you trust Ralak.

You know that even in rut he would never hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. Of course this is not to say that he would be gentle —you expect that anything but.

With a firm hand to your upper back, his body is pressed against yours and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply through his nose, holding it in his lungs, and then letting out a hot, shaky breath against your skin, finally allowing himself to really take in your scent.

He almost becomes drunk off it— at least it feels that way for him. Your scent has him feeling like he’s downed two full bottles of fermented fruit with no chasers in between and he simply can’t get enough of it.

Hand moving swiftly from your back to your head, he pins your face to the bed as he trails his tongue along your jawbone to the nape of your neck. He lingers a little longer than he can help, suckling on and grazing his pointed canines against the skin. It sends shivers down your spine until your tail curls into the air and back arches in complete submission. You push back into him, feeling his hardened length pressed between the swell of your ass and base of your tail.

Fuck, you just want it inside you already.

“Lifting your tail for me, hm?” He huffs, puckering his lips against your skin and suckling tenderly. You can feel the emptiness creep back in, and that maddening itch deep in your womb. You moan softly, like a low hum under your breath, which only riles him up more. He feels like he wants to make you his all over again.

To mate with you.

To mark you as his in every way so that no other man would even dare look your way. Without warning, Ralak pushes up off you, his sinewy arms caging you in with one hand binding your wrists and the other keeping your head pinned to the bed. His legs hold yours down, his knees locking your ankles in place.

“You belong to me.” He growls next to your ear, his hand abruptly leaving your head to reach for the base of his skull for his kuru. With a quick tug, he brings it over his shoulder and pops it into his mouth to hold with his teeth. He reaches for your kuru that lies innocently in the dip of your back, and brings it towards his mouth.

A wave of anxiety washes over you when the image of Ka’ani finding you earlier in your own mess flashes before you. You can’t help but wonder if he would see that if he made tsaheylu right now. Imagine how he’d react when he realizes Ka’ani saw you naked and covered in slick? Your body squirmed at the mere thought, only making Ralak tighten his grip on you.

“Wait!” Is all you could blubber out before you feel the connection —the bond. Your eyes bulge when you feel him surge through you, two minds becoming one. It takes you by surprise, he’s never one to hastily or unexpectedly make tsaheylu with you. But tonight he makes the bond as if you were a tsurak to be tamed.

What he sees next drives him further into his territorial urges — your interaction with Ka’ani. The way Ka’ani barged into his home. How he saw your naked, vulnerable body. The fear that you felt when another man invaded your space. When he helped you. Innocently touched you.

“He touched you.” He says between pants, a mixture of emotions washing over him all at once. But the sharp pang of your heat transferring through tsaheylu has him entirely succumbing to his own urges and carnal instincts.

He’s simply not there.

His hips start bucking uncontrollably and his cock is poking and prodding at your puffy folds. The crown of his cock jabs at your clit a few times before finally parting your folds and with a quick snap of his hips he’s probing your entrance.

It stings when his swollen cockhead breaks past the resistance of your tightness, and he can’t help but lay hold of your hip and hiss from how tiny you feel. This is the first he’s ever had his cock stuffed inside a pussy during his rut. The feeling is all-consuming and he unapologetically yearns for more.

Hips snapping back, he pops his cockhead out of you only to shove it back in again. And again. And again until he’s repeatedly using your tight, little hole as nothing more than a fucktoy for his own self pleasure.

He leans back to take in the hazy sight, admiring the way your hole stretches perfectly to accommodate the sheer thickness of his cock. And when he sees the mushroomy part of his head slowly emerge he can’t help the way his hips stutter just to sink it back inside you.

It’s torturous, not having all of him inside you when that’s what your body is pining for most. He’s so much bigger than normal and you know that this is an itch that only he can scratch. “God—” You whine the foreign word, “—just fuck me already!”

“Agh. Quiet.” He lets out an irritated grunt, both hands flying to your hips to shove you down onto his cock — a loud, audible smack permeating the air when your sticky pelvises collide.

It almost overpowers the hoarse yet piercing cry that escapes your quivering lips. You’re so tender that the sudden stretch is too intense and with no time to adjust to his size you find yourself shuddering like you did after he took your innocence —your virginity.

His head dips back in ecstasy just when his tip kisses your cervix, his eyes screwed shut as he tries not to spray his seed inside your womb right now. His fingers sink into your skin, surely leaving bruises behind that will last for weeks.

“Hngh — woman.” He groans longingly, dropping his head forward and opening his ineberated eyes to witness how your cunt is sucking in every single inch of his cock with glee.

He grinds himself inside you, tugging at your hips and pushing against the resistance as if he were trying to stuff more of his cock inside you. Your high-pitched shrill fades out into a pathetic little whimper, your wobbly elbows and knees struggling to keep you up.

It’s all too much and your fucked out mind goes blank. You can’t even process how your body is submitting to its owner and his rough touches, opening itself up to be bred already. You sense what’s coming next. Your back bows, elbows and knees burying into the softness of the bed as you try to ground yourself for Ralak to use you for his own relief.

He does exactly that— hunching over you and shuffling his knees closer so he can gain more leverage to fuck into your slippery cunt. He puts all his weight on you, his fingernails almost piercing your skin when he begins rutting into you like his life depends on it.

He sets a merciless pace right off the bat, pounding into you as if he were angry with you. He huffs and puffs from trying to catch his breath but fails because he can’t stop himself from humping at you. His body won’t let him, not until he’s ensured you're full with his seed and will bear his child.

Hands quickly leaving your hips, he grabs your wrists, binding them together once more and the other grips your kuru and yanks it back. Your neck is exposed and your mouth hangs agape as you’re given no other choice but to take the jackhammering of your life. He’s never fucked you so hard or fast and perhaps it’s the haze of your heat but you just want more of him.

“F-Fuck. FuckFuckFuckmeFuckme— yes!” You beg deliriously, pushing yourself back onto him. You can feel the way his cock is bulging from your lower stomach, but you couldn’t care less because you just want it even deeper inside you. Fuck, it hurts even but it feels so good that you can’t stop begging for more. “Deeper — oh, yesyesyes!”

Ralaks groans become drawn out and he’s burying his hot face into the crook of your neck as his pulsing tip bullies its way past your cervix. It’s like white hot pleasure surging through your entire being and it has you so lightheaded you may actually pass out before he’s finished with you.

His cock heats up inside your cunt, becoming so veiny you could practically feel each vein press against your gummy, slimy walls. He’s now panting open mouthed against your throat, his tongue darting out to lick your skin. He shoves your head down so he can access the back of your neck—a hot spot for your pheromones— and grazes his canines against you. Every fiber of his being is urging him to sink them into your skin and see if you taste as good as you smell. His fangs throb in his mouth at the mere thought, his hot saliva dripping off their length and down your neck.

You’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you can’t form a coherent thought much less process the fact that you’re quickly nearing your climax. It’s as if you’ve surrendered all control over your body to him and he’s dictating what happens next. Your pussy walls tighten around him so much it aches and he outright whimpers.

“Sst-ah.” He pulls away from your neck and slams his eyes shut, grimacing from the way your cunt is gripping his cock. At this point you’re so on edge that you’re just pinching him, locking him inside you and almost cutting off his blood supply. It’s more than painful for him, and he becomes peeved that you won’t ease up.

Irritated, he aggressively slams himself into you so that you stop with your pathetic little pinching, but all that does is tip you over the edge. Next thing you know your cunt is helplessly fluttering around his cock and your pussy juices are trickling down your thighs.

“Mmm-fuck I’m cumming!” You moan the words so quickly they jumble together, “Cu-cumming! Cumming!”

You throbbing around him has his eyes rolling into the back of his head but the more your body convulses underneath him the more he grows frustrated with you. How could such a little thing put on such a big performance? Why won’t you just stay still?

So he thrusts. And thrusts. And thrusts.

Taming you in the only way his body knows how. Fucking into you without mercy or sympathy. He lets out a hiss, the first he’s ever directed your way, and tightens his grip. “Keep…” He pulls out of you until only the tip is left inside, “...still.” Ralak’s deep voice rumbles next to your ear as he slams every inch cock into your cunt, the mere force of his thrust almost knocking you onto your stomach. You let out a broken whimper, coming down from your high and already feeling the coil in your stomach wind and heat up again.

“Haa—‘nna…make you swell.” He groans the fragmented sentence like a dying man, grinding so deeply inside you that his swollen balls rub against your puffed up clit. Your bruised cervix feels so good against his cock as he uses it to massage the most sensitive part of his tip.

Experiencing nothing but absolute rapture, Ralaks head slumps into the crook of your neck, where he’s flooded by your scent. He only grinds harder. And harder, until he’s panting like a viperwolf against your skin.

“Fuck — please…” You beg through a shaky whisper, trying to free your hands from his undying grip, “I j-ust c-came.”

He’s just so fucking big and deep that he’s touching parts of you that have never touched before, and he’s only getting more aggressive the more you push away his advances. Right now, you’re just a squirming, noisy bitch in heat that needs to be put in her place. To surrender and submit. And the pheromones wafting up his nostrils only drive him further into his bestial urges to claim you as his.

His teeth and gums throb in his mouth once more when the urge to mark you as his becomes indubitable. Much like the urge to keep you still enough to make you into a vessel for his seed. He indulges himself, yanking your head back to expose the bend of your shoulder. He hovers open mouthed over your flawless skin and gives you a kitten lick before ruthlessly marking you.

Your eyes bulge and pupils constrict into nothing but dots when you feel his lengthy fangs plunge into your flesh. The wail evading your throat is deafening and only gets higher when you feel your shoulder set ablaze. His jaw locks into place and he holds you still as he incessantly claims you as his in more ways than just marking. Your eyes start to water and your body stiffens when you feel it.

He’s bulging inside you.

Stretching you out until your shoulder isn’t the only part of you on fire. You lash around, clawing at whatever’s in your way until your nails are dull but the more you move the more it burns. “Y-You’re getting bigger inside me!” You release a high pitched squeal, your elbows and knees finally collapsing under you. Now all his weight is on top of you, pinning you flat to the bed with nowhere for you to go. He begins groaning low and deep, drawing it out until it turns into a depraved growl. It feels as if he’s swelling inside you, as if he were doubling in size. As if he were — oh fuck.

“You’re — you’re knotting me, lak!” You yell when you come to the realisation. It feels like there’s two of him inside you, stretching you to unfathomable lengths. Despite your continuous attempts to get him to let up, he continues to bulge inside you. “You’re knotting me.” You repeat the words in a weakened, croaky voice of defeat, finally giving in and accepting your fate.

Riding out his high, his hips stutter out of his control — a familiar sensation now flooding your core. A rush of warmth inside you. It’s his hot seed pumping inside you, his cock thumping with each spurt. He groans and moans until you’re so overloaded with his cum it begins to drip down your thighs and mix with yours.

He unlatches from your shoulder, lapping at the wound to prevent it from bleeding too badly. He plants a few rough kisses on the double crescent shaped mark and works them up to the lobe of your ear. He’s panting and sweating and he can feel the fog lifting now that he’s had his release. “‘m sorry.” He mumbles between wet kisses, now trailing them back down to the fresh wound to lap at it some more. “‘m sorry.”

“Ralak, I-I” You stutter, overloaded with all these new sensations. It’s burning worse than a hellfire wasp sting but at the same time it’s everything your body hungers for. “Haah.. it-it hurts” You whimper quietly, looking behind you to see the most inebriated eyes you’ve ever seen on this man’s face stare back at you. He releases his pheromones to help your body calm down and feel less pain, ultimately scenting you all together.

“Mawey.” Ralak huffs, trying his hardest to stay still now that he’s quickly coming to the realisation that he’s knotted and marked you in one go. “Doing… so well, tahnì.” He tries to praise you but truthfully he’s still in and out of it, dazing off when he feels the occasional throb of your walls.

“Am I? Am I helping you too, lak?” You ask in a surprisingly optimistic tone, proud that you were able to do what you were told was unmanageable. He musters out a nod, grunting as he finishes emptying himself in your womb.

Feeling some level of sense and rationality, you ask him a question that’s been on your mind. “I’m going to get pregnant, aren’t I?”

“Mm.” He hums, nodding his head as he nuzzles himself into the dip of your shoulder, inhaling your seeping scent.

“Is that what you w-want?” Your breath hitches as you flinch from his cheek resting on your shoulder.

“Mm.” Another grunt, followed by an unexpected, fervid thrust — his body answering your question on his behalf by ensuring every last drop of his essence is inside your fertile womb.

You focus on steadying your breathing now that you’ve gotten your answer.

“Irayo, muntxate [thank you, wife].” He says weakly, finally rolling you both onto your sides for some much needed rest. You chuckle. A weak one, but a chuckle nonetheless, and repeat his own words back to him.

“Do not thank.” You say with a smile, getting yourself as comfortable as you can for the long night ahead.

——

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familyfriendlydilfartist · 1 month

Text

Bedtime (Short)

Synopsis; you can’t fall asleep so you seek comfort.

Warnings; None

One thing everyone in camp knew was Astarion enjoyed reading. They would always catch him with his nose in a book, crimson eyes taking in every word moving slowly from the top to the bottom of the page. Astarion often held onto the books he found when looting crates and shelves during your adventures.

It was midnight and everyone was getting ready to settle down for the night. Shadowheart sat In her tent unbraiding her hair and then running a brush through her raven strands before finally heading to bed. Lae’zel sharpened the last of her weapons, a ritual she refuses to neglect. Gale lay in his tent attempting to fall asleep as he used magic to mimic rainfall white noise. Everyone else slept soundly in their tent, or so you assumed.

Well, everyone except yourself. Tonight you lacked the capacity of falling into a deep slumber.

You were kind of like Scratch. At times Scratch couldn’t sleep, too hyper to even lie down. Halsin calls this zoomies so maybe you had zoomies as well.

You lie in your own tent staring at the roof. Gods how you wish dawn would arrive sooner. You huffed sitting up, you couldn’t lie in this uncomfortable tent for much longer, it was driving you crazy. You carefully peer out from the flaps of your tent. You observed the outside. Everyone was asleep, except for one. Astarion. A warm light illuminated his red tent, outlining his shadow. He lay in his tent, with what you could tell was a heavy book.

Astarion and you shared...well could you even call it a relationship? You slept together once or twice and Astarion enjoyed flirting with you but it didn’t seem like he wanted anything more. Whenever you slept together it seemed like he wasn’t entirely there. The only time he truly took satisfaction in the act is if he was allowed a bite from your neck. You it saddened you, to say the least. You really liked Astarion, not just for his stunning look but for his charming character as a whole. However, if all he wanted was to have a fling then so be it. That wouldn’t stop you from being his good friend though.

You slowly crawled from your tent and then tiptoed over to Astarion’s tent. You weren’t hoping to surprise Astarion; his heightened senses wouldn’t allow you the luxury. Your quietness was in favor of Shadowheart and Lae’zel, two people who would stir awake at the slightest snore. Astarion had his eyes on you already, waiting for you to call out to him first.

“Astarion,” you whisper, “It’s me.”

“I could tell.” He states matter of factly, turing the page of his novel. “Whatever is the matter?”

You lower yourself to the tent opening, pushing a flap aside. “I can’t sleep, could I hang out with you?” Astarion stares at you with an unimpressed look. “Please?” you pester.

“I guess so, besides who am I to deny you the pleasure.” Astarion sighs like a bothered mother giving in to her child’s request. You grin and immediately crawl inside. You sit beside him with a silly smile on your lips. There's a silence for a moment, you trying to gain the courage to ask him questions while he read to himself.

“Whatever you want to ask go ahead, the more eager you grow to ask, the more it’ll bother me.” Astarion lowers his novel. The slightly bothered expression he wears provokes an uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. You shyly mess with your nails. “Oh, well, I was just wondering what you were reading.”

“A novel about a boy venturing into vampire territory and what he has learned about my species. His assumptions are quite laughable.” Astarion’s pale pink lips quirk into a brief smile and a small laugh falls from them. “Here he states,” Astarion changes his voice into a mocking one, “One of the known weaknesses to a Vampire is garlic. Garlic will frighten a vampire, so always wear some on your neck to scare them away.”

You giggle too, “I’ve heard that one before. To be honest, I assumed you’d be scared of garlic as well because all the other tales of vampire’s weaknesses were debunked as true by you.”

Astarion shakes his head, “No, darling. It is simply the scent. Truly odorous. And if garlic were truly a weakness of vampires then Gale’s breath after dinner would be my demise.”

You both share a laugh then the silence returns.

“...Could you read to me?” you ask out of the blue. After the moment shared between the two of you before, you had hoped the question wouldn’t be answered too harshly. “-I mean, I like stories too but my mind often drifts from the pages. I prefer being read to than reading it myself and you have the perfect voice.”

Astarion contemplates for a second, observing you as he does. He taps his bed, “Fine.” You do as instructed, tugging the blanket until you’re all warm and cozy. Once you’re settled in Astarion starts on the page he stopped on. His voice is soft and relaxing. As the night goes on you finally fall into a deep slumber.

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ageingfangirl2 · 5 months

Text

What Happens Below Deck Stays Below Deck! Shanks (OPLA)

SMUT! You are the new shipwright but have caught your captain's eye and despite your best efforts to hide from him after a drunken confession he manages to corner you below deck - what the crew don't know won't hurt them - Shanks x Reader (Female) SMUT!

It wasn't that you were avoiding your captain, it was more like doing your job which happened to keep you away. Okay, maybe you were hiding a little and not being alone in the same room as him because you were mortified about what happened a month after you joined the crew as the shipwright.

Everyone in the tavern was drinking and you had a little too much and might have told your captain what you did before you joined his crew. You weren't proud of your past as a prostitute, and when Shanks stated it was why you were so good with your hands, you purred in his ear and told him you were better with your mouth.

Luckily there were enough jobs around the ship to keep you busy. Like today while the ship was docked you could finally fix one of the dodgy planks in the main sleeping area because the whole crew were off the ship. You got on great with everyone and wanted to be respected for your work and not because you screwed the captain.

You had all your tools ready and the new plank already cut to size, you literally needed to pop the old one out and replace it. Maybe then because the ship was empty you could enjoy a bath with some of the bath salts you got from the last island you docked at. It was hard being the only girl on the crew.

'There we go, a job well done,' you say cheerfully, as you test the new plank by walking across it on all fours since you were already down there, and smiling when you didn't hear a creak.

As you admire your work you frown when a shadow looms over you because you thought you were alone, 'what the he--' you freeze, looking up to see Shanks staring down at you, more so his eyes lingering on your breasts which were on show due to your current position.

'Someone has been avoiding me haven't they?' Shanks chuckles his usual jovial tone darker and more sinister, 'Now I have you all to myself. Haven't been able to get you out of my head.'

'Captain, I can--' you go to stand but he pushes you back down.

'You've had me all flustered picturing your mouth on my dick, I'm your captain and I order you to make me feel better!' he demand, cutting you off.

Your eyes widen as you watch him pull down his pants and release his very well-endowed dick which was already hard and dripping precum. You were a little flattered this was all because of you, but you were torn.

You cave and lick your lips, 'I don't want this to change things, captain.'

Shanks nods and tangles his fingers in your hair, 'we both need this. This won't change things.'

You get on your knees and rest your hands on his thighs, before you take the tip in your mouth and start to lick the precum. It had been a couple of years since you'd deepthroated and you were intimidated by his size and if you were going to be able to take all of him.

'fuck--' Shanks grunts above you.

You take one hand and start rubbing the shaft in time with your licks, while the other hand reaches for his balls, all the while making sure to keep eye contact with him. You hated this, but it was something men seemed to crave.

'Such a tease...' Shanks groans, 'so eager you forgot where we are...' he laughs, fingers tightening in your hair, 'anyone could walk in on us.'

Realisation dawns on you that someone could come back and catch you in the act, and you didn't want to be seen like this, 'wait--'

Shanks cuts you off by pushing your head down roughly, forcing you to swallow more of him, your jaw hurting from being stretched. Your hands dig into his thighs as you fail to scream around him.

'I'm sorry, what was that? I can't hear you over all that noise you're making,' he taunts.

You manage to control your breathing as you feel him touch the back of your throat. Keeping the grip on his thighs you start to rock backwards and forwards on your heels and he quickly matches your pace. You didn't care that you were drooling, you stared up at your captain with pleading eyes that threatened tears.

Shanks moans, 'I'm enjoying the view. It's not every day I get to mouth fuck someone so pretty. I bet you can go deeper, I bet you want to choke on my cum, answer me.'

You're not quite sure if you nod or grunt a yes, but either way, Shanks wanted more and you resigned yourself to let him take control. Your nose is pressed against his stomach as he bottoms out deep in your throat, tears falling freely as he uses your mouth like his personal fleshlight, unloading cum which you tried to choke down but some came back up and mixed with your drool.

His thrusts start to slow down and his fingers leave your hair as he gasps for breath, 'beautiful...I can see my dick inside you...' he trails off, one finger lazily running down your cheek to your throat where he traces the clear bulge, '...as much as I'd love to see you keep choking on me, I'm impatient and there's something else I want more.'

He pulls out slowly with a satisfying pop, but you still have to catch your breath coming down from your own high. With a simple motion of his eyes towards your pants, you hastily remove them and your damp underwear with shaking hands. You lie back and spread your legs, 'captain...' you whisper but it comes out like a moan.

Shanks smirk gets bigger as he gets down on the floor, 'You're fucking gorgeous like this, spread like a good girl who wants to be eaten, and lucky for you I'm starving.'

You gasp as he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder to part you even more, 'Like I said I don't want this to change things on the ship captain.'

Shanks hums as his head dips between your thighs, 'My door will always be open, but I won't treat you any differently, I always keep my word.'

You didn't know if you'd take him up on his offer, but your mind is quickly swayed when his tongue finds your already sensitive clit and starts to roll his tongue, and your hips buck when two fingers slip between your folds and curl inside you. It was easy to see why the captain had a reputation with the ladies because you hadn't been pleasured like this in a long time. You don't try to conceal your noises as he brings you to the edge and you cum around his fingers and face. You would happily take the pain of being fucked senseless if you got a reward after.

After making you cum a few more times Shanks pulls his face up from between your thighs, your juices covering his face. You somehow manoeuvre your body to pull his face towards you and crash your lips down on his, tasting yourself.

Shanks laughs into the kiss, 'I can think of a few more things around the ship that need fixing. I have a dodgy chair in my quarters.'

You pull back and rest your forehead against his, 'I'm happy you're my captain. Now we should probably make ourselves decent before anyone comes back.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 10 months

Note

Morning sex with Aemond please? If you haven’t already

Thank you for patiently waiting (for over two months!!) for this. I am so sorry. I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: Smut, nothing too outlandish, just a good ol' fashioned early morning game of hide the sausage. Word count: ~800

Vibrant hues of yellow, orange and red filter through the gauzy bed curtains as her eyes flutter open, mind still foggy as she rouses into wakefulness. She is warm within the softness of the blankets, warmer still as she stretches out languidly towards the middle of the mattress. Her hand makes contact with the heated flesh of her husband’s bare chest and slowly she turns to face him.

Aemond lays on his side, propped up on his elbow amongst the pillows, watching her intently. His long silvery hair is loose around his shoulders, framing his face, as his sapphire eye glints dimly in the soft light of dawn. The natural curve of his lips turns ever so slightly further upwards at the sight of her, as she lays there sleepily taking him in. She is unused to seeing him like this, he rises much earlier than she does; something she makes a mental note to change. The sight of Aemond first thing in the morning is simply breathtaking, she has been a fool to allow herself to miss out on it in the six months they have been married.

“What time is it?” She asks, voice thick with sleep.

“The hour of the rooster.” Comes his murmured reply, as he reaches out the hand he isn’t leaning on to brush the hair from her face.

She allows her eyes to gently close at his comforting touch, basking in the graze of his fingertips against her temple. “You will be late for training.” She whispers.

“Mmm. So I shall.” He concurs, coaxing her onto her back and shifting to hover over her.

She relaxes beneath the familiar weight of him, relishing the way her husband’s body slots so perfectly against hers. Excitement flutters in her lower belly, she aches for what she knows will come next. Aemond leans down to kiss her, it is slow and decadent, yet loaded with passion, drawing a soft sigh from her as he begins to reach downwards.

Parting her thighs instinctively, her breath hitches when Aemond drags his fingers through her folds, spreading the slick that has gathered between her legs already. She thinks she may never get used to how expertly he touches her, but it is something she welcomes the surprise of.

Her fingers tangle themselves in the silkiness of his hair as he places hot, open mouthed caresses to her neck, all the while stroking unhurriedly at her centre. She whimpers, each of his ministrations causing a tautness in her belly which sets her writhing against him with unbridled desire.

“Such an eager little thing she is.” Aemond coos, almost to himself, as if he isn’t the one responsible for the state she’s in in the first place.

He pushes his breeches down just enough to free himself, and her jaw goes slack as she feels the hardness of him press against her, demanding entrance. He sinks in slowly, a groan rumbling deep within his throat as he stretches her inch by inch, the sensation is almost maddening for her, too much and yet not enough all at the same time.

His lips seek hers once more once he is fully sheathed within, the plushness of them against her own has her rapidly beginning to buck her hips against his, desperate for friction.

“Paerī.” He commands softly, his large hands enveloping her hips and holding her in place. Slow down.

Aemond keeps her still as he slides himself out of her, before pushing back in, setting a glacial pace that allows her to feel everything.

There are no other sounds in the room besides their intermingled heavy breaths and the wet drag of his length in her cunny. He is never this gentle with her, and she savours the intensity of his eye contact, the way he pushes her into the mattress but doesn’t rut mercilessly into her.

Each stroke knocks against a spot within her that has her toes curling and a pressure building in her belly. She tenses, clenching around Aemond, causing him to inhale sharply and his pace to falter.

“Peak for me, ābrazȳrītsos.” He urges. “I know you’re close.” Little wife.

Snaking a hand between their bodies, he strokes insistently at her pearl with his thumb and she knows she is done for. The pressure reaches its precipice, bubbling over into white hot waves of ecstasy that ripple from the top of her head all the way down to her toes, as she clenches ceaselessly around Aemond. He follows her shortly afterwards, stilling with a groan and pulsating inside of her with his release.

She holds him close, breathless and dazed in the wake of her climax, until she is recovered enough to speak.

“You are definitely late now.” She says with a smile.

Aemond smiles against the flesh of her shoulder. “Then it is a good job I have found a better way to spend my morning.”

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #aemond #prince aemond targaryen #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd smut #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfic

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 months

Text

Pretty Eyes (2)

summary - you and daryl have reverted to your original positions, however your divide in getting along isn’t only affecting the two of you. it’s endangering the group, and so when needs must, you have to reconcile and make a truce (2.2k)

warnings - 18+ mdni, mentions of sex and slight mention of drugs, mentions of death, mentions of domestic abuse, silent treatment, swearing, slight angst, trust issues

a/n - i am aware that I said there would be smut in this part, however i liked the way this turned out. dw there will be a part 3! i’m really enjoying writing this, it’s my favourite mini series i’ve written so far

part one / daryl dixon works / main masterlist

His gaze avoided any direction that you were in, and you could tell that any soft interaction that you had shared was obsolete in his damned brain. It was possible that that the alarms instigating a departure from the CDC was a good thing, as then you didn’t make a mistake by sharing a tousled bedspread with the youngest Dixon.

You had remembered in the state of needing to survive, that he didn’t care about you, and vice versa, and the only reason you had almost allowed him to fuck you was out of celebration for thinking that you were safe from the dawning aspects of the hungry wilderness. The booze hadn’t helped either, and that to have found yourself in those circumstances, that you had probably drank too much.

Any time you were involved in a conversation, he would talk right past you, as though you weren’t even there at all. You weren’t stupid, you could recognise regret even if wasn’t right before your eyes, and Daryl felt it, and what for? Because he almost exposed the slither of vulnerability with you?

Despite finding him to be a ridicule in his amenity of ignoring you, you didn’t see him as weak, he was one of the reasons that you had made it to the Greene farm after Carl had been shot, aiming for the same deer as the man who had held the gun. Otis, that was his name. He had felt responsible before he died, but Hershel, the eldest and father of the family, saw you as a herd of burdens on his land, but you could only see one, and it was walking straight towards you, his foot falls being wide and ebbed with integral emotion.

It wasn’t Daryl, rather it was Shane, which was unsurprising as the redneck appeared to prefer steering clear of you entirely. His face was filled with spiced annoyance, and it made you realise that he was not walking to converse with you of his own free will, Rick, the sheriff whom had shifted everything, had sent him over to you.

The two of you had held mutual respect for one another, or at least you had back at the camp that was located in Atlanta. He had appreciated that you were willing to speak out against the arrogance of the Dixons, as not many people could find the confidence in themselves to do so, other than himself of course, for which he prided himself on.

He saw himself as a man, but you could see the averted change to his person, he had become slippery with a jurisdiction to pursue everyone as an enemy, and worst of all, lie blankly to the faces of those that surrounded him. Otis died in vain, you knew that, and for what? So Shane could get a head start in recalling his stature to safety, that was why.

He was selfish, and his slope of goodness was crumbling, the world had gotten to him; not everyone was built for the end of it, it was a frame of mind that kept you going, and more importantly helped you to stay alive. His was almost gone, vanished as his brain became plagued with the mindset that he knew what was best for your people.

It was humorous to think that he still saw himself as the leader, he’d had that position swept out from beneath his feet, unknowingly at first, by none other than his best friend. It was a betrayal in his looking and dark eyes, however it had come full circle, because as much as you’d have preferred to have stay a foot away from their business, it was evident that they harboured emotions towards the same woman.

Finally, as you patiently awaited for the brute before you to speak, you could see the slither of the archer’s silhouette within the corner of your eye, returning from his search to uncover the whereabouts of Sophia, whom had ran into the woods alone, and never came out. “Spit it out, I haven’t got all day Shane.” You sighed, refocusing your attention on him rather than Daryl, who once again ignored your presence.

“Rick wants you to get along with Daryl.” He was blunt, as though he was reciting a written speech that he had prepared for him, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if that had been the case. “It’s causing problems for the group, you’re a reasonable woman, so I’m sure you can understand.” You cocked your brow at his rehearsed lines, crossing your arms expectedly as you smirked, penetrating the large man with your stone like glare.

“I can understand that you’re all too scared to pull Daryl up on this, but he’s the one that’s not speaking so much as a word to me. It’s not a problem to me that I’m getting the silent treatment, so how come it is for you lot?” It hurt your feelings a little, sure, but in all honesty it was the least of your problems, one if provoked was stood right in front of you, attempting to rationalise the childlike behaviour that you were being given by the surly archer.

Shane huffed diligently, rolling his irises around in the whites of his eyes, unamused by the ignorance that he decided you held on the situation. He didn’t like the red neck either, he never had, but against his judgement he was here, being the messenger to resolve the petty exchange, or lack of, that you and Daryl were berating one another with. This wasn’t the camp that he had founded anymore, you had all left the gory scene, and those of you that had survived had experienced worse than you had ever imagined.

People were dead, and whilst a particular man in the afterlife had deserved the horror that had unexpectedly struck him, they had lost others than just Ed. You had watched, in the midst of trying to defend yourselves those that you had found along the way were destined to be nothing short of a feast for the undead. And you were a fighter, a good one at that, Shane could tell by how you effortlessly made the walkers fall with a plummeting of a sharp object to the location of their brains.

“Because…” the man whom had once been in military trailed off, feeling thus more controlled by Rick than he was with him in command before the outbreak, “we all need to get along, there’s nothing else that’s keeping us together than simply being alive. And if push comes to shove,” which it would, Shane thought to himself, “you and Daryl are going to have to work together.” He trusted Daryl the least, but if he could get you to understand that your skills were necessary, and that you had to communicate with the handler of the crossbow, then there would be less chance of a problem aspiring from him.

Daryl had a problem, in Shane’s eyes, and that was believing that the little girl was still alive in the depths of the woods, going so far as convincing Carol that he would find her. Shane needed you to be exactly how you were back at the camp, he thought ironically it was due to the eldest Dixon’s absence as to why you were leashing yourself from calling out any bullshit, you felt bad. You pitied the man in your own way, but that wasn’t it. He was ignoring you solely not for the reason for how you had previously spoken to Merle, it was because he had missed the opportunity of getting his dick wet.

Just the thought caused you to swell with anger, it was so typical for him to blame you for the intrusion, rather than the bleating emergency that upheld you with the threat of impending slaughter. But you had gotten out, escaped the narrow destruction that would have taken you with it, and because of it, Daryl saw you as nothing more than one of the trees, stood around them, and acting as nothing other than a distraction.

“Fine. If it’ll get you to stop berating me, I’ll talk to him right now.” You weren’t ready to, you thought in solitary, however you had never been one to back down from a challenge, even if your pride was being held by a thread. There was no cause for you to feel nervous when it involved Daryl, nothing had happened. So you couldn’t understand why as you stalked in the direction of the lone wolf, the reason your heart was berating an echo within your ear drums, and the purpose as to why your hands sweltered and grew nervously clammy.

It wasn’t a big deal. None of it was, other than continuing to live another day as it came, and speaking to Daryl wouldn’t kill you, only wound your pride a little. His spectre of a physique was within your peripheral, he was sat with a vast lack of company upon an astray log, dwindling his fingers together, holding a glinting knife between them. It was understandable that he was deterred from much to do, you felt the same, you were inhabiting the indefinite peace whilst it lasted.

The air stung you as you awaited for your own dialogue to slice through and disturb the lack of bouldering tension the hunter was distributing. He was slightly tense, but that was all, which was understandable considering that his task continued to be unresolved. “I believe you, y’know.” Your mouth felt irritatingly dry as the words ushered from your vocal cords, provoking the attention of the man whom had long since previously had you pinned vulnerably beneath his aroused body. Well it hadn’t been much time since then, but it definitely felt that way. “With Sophia being out there I mean.”

It wasn’t a fleeting battle when there was a child scarcely all alone in the threatening triumphs of the unknown, more so one that had travelled so far with you. Daryl could only scoff, biting back a retort in your direction, clearly disgruntled and unmelted by your peace offering of conversation. “Makes you the only one then.” He stated, convinced with the untested fate of Sophia, his jaw clenching at the unimaginable that may have unravelled without the fruits of knowledge.

“Is that so bad, that I believe you? That I trust you?” Trust was never something you would have once conferred with the name Dixon, but the man had proven himself despite his howling arrogance towards you that he could survive this, and have your back all the same. Without leaning on one another, none of you would have made it this far, and if this was the end, that you would possibly die on the road after Hershel gave you the boot, then you felt the desire to voice your prevailing emotions, rather than act impulsively on the unquenchable nature of lust.

“Ya don’ trus’ me, yer jus’ bein’ stupid.” His accent rang thick as he relished in his frugal spite of allowing a single soul close to him, it was his greatest fear, and he was full with an appetite of pushing you further and further away. Or perhaps he didn’t keen in your direction, you were a stiletto in his foot, pressing the sharp heel into his border of preferred personal space. He wanted you gone, to be notarised by each person in your travelling camp to be left be, especially you. He stepped unwillingly closer, hoping that the decrease in distance would make you flee from his eyesight.

“You’re right I was being stupid, when I was just seconds away from letting you fuck me.” He forced himself not to meet your eyes that were speaking a different story than your mouth, yearning to be accepted within his small list of those he cared for. They were alluring, a drug that he couldn’t quite get a fix of, splicing deeper into him than the arrow had. “And to think, you said I had pretty eyes…” You teased narrowly, slyly rolling them as you glared at him, surprisingly without judgement. “We didn’t do anything, and it meant nothing, so I propose we make amends so we can both get on with the shit surrounding our lives.”

“Make amen’s, I don’t want to make anythin’, ‘cept be left alone.” He huffed sparingly, whipping around to walk away and back to his own self-induced confinement, but you didn’t let him. You couldn’t. With defiance you grabbed his wrist, enabling him to turn around, and you felt a shiver run through your veins. It was like your blood vessels were bursting with contagious sparks, adrenaline coursing through every bone in your body, as you lowly looked up at him, finally making direct eye contact. “Fuck it.”

He hissed, ignoring the hand of yours that was attached to his wrist, and within seconds his hands were harshly cradling your face, his lips pressed hungrily upon your own. It made you forget the devastation of life in which was poisoning the world, and convinced you that you were unknowingly trapped in the CDC once again, celebrating something rather than berating any figment of emotion that crossed your minds. You never wanted to stop sharing your laboured breaths as your lips refused to detach, and Daryl had no intention of doing so as his hands gravitated towards your waist, pulling the entirety of your body closer.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus imagine #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #the walking dead x reader

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bookworm551 · 10 months

Text

Take the Edge Off | Part 4 | Jealousy

Miguel isn’t happy when he hears that you’ve been spending time with someone other than him.

A/N: do you smell that? I think there’s a plot around here somewhere. Weird… anyway! I’m back with more brain rot—enjoy :)

Warnings: smut, face riding, small sprinkles of denial, biting, p in v, MINORS DNI

Word count: 5.2k (sorry these are getting longer)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Today had not been good.

You had been on call all week, and you were finally needed to assist an ongoing mission. You had gone in and found the Scarlett Spider and a few others battling ferociously. It should've been a standard operation, but things quickly went south after the anomaly figured out the purpose of the watches you all wore, and after a nasty fight, he actually managed to steal the gizmo off of Ben Reilly's wrist.

You all stood in horror staring at the place where the portal had just closed after the anomaly jumped into it, taking it to an unknown dimension. Soon after, Ben started glitching, and the rest of you took him back to Earth-928 to get him a new gizmo and explain the situation at hand to Miguel.

Ben had been mortified and ashamed of losing his watch, so you decided to hang back and try to comfort him. It was an awkward experience for you, especially since he went on a long tirade about being a failure and recounting all of his harrowing life experiences. You were secretly relieved when you finally managed to escape back to your room for some peace and quiet.

Your suit had gotten a few nasty tears in the fabric, so you changed into your regular clothes. Assessing the damage, you sighed in defeat when you realized how much time you'd need to put into fixing your suit. Whatever, you had planned on going back home tonight anyway, and you could try to fix it then.

Without any warning, the door to your room slid open, and you weren't surprised to see Miguel's figure looming in the doorway. You sighed again. "Listen, I was fine with it last time, but I really need you to start knocking," you told him in exasperation.

"You weren't at the debriefing," he stated gravely, ignoring your comment. You shrugged indifferently. "I didn't really need to be," you muttered. "There were plenty of people who were there."

"So where were you?" He demanded, placing his hands on his waist as he stared down at you expectantly. You crossed the room to where your carry-on bag was sitting on the floor and tossed your suit in it. "I was with Ben," you said casually, your back still turned to Miguel. "I figured he could use a little companionship after what happened today."

You zipped up your bag and stood up. When you turned around, you were startled to find that Miguel had crossed the room, too, and he was standing directly in front of you. His expression was hardened in anger as he stared down at you with furrowed brows.

"Companionship?" He repeated slowly, his voice laced with aggravation. You looked up at him questioningly before realization dawned on you. You had made a passing reference, a joke really, to Miguel about seeking out Ben for a certain type of "companionship" before. It seemed like the comment must've stuck with him.

"Oh, please," you said with a roll of your eyes. "Don't let your imagination get the better of you." You tried walking past him, but he grabbed you firmly by the arm.

"Where the hell are you going?" He demanded to know. You scoffed indignantly and looked up at his face. Miguel's eyes were boring down at you with a tense glare, his eyebrows drawn in a scowl.

"Wherever the hell I want," you retorted sharply. "I don't need your permission." His grip on your arm tightened. "You're not going anywhere," he growled.

"And why not?" You snapped. "Because you said so?" You pulled your arm out of his grip, but he pushed you back up against the wall. You glared up at him, but your eyes couldn't resist glancing at his lips.

"Did you sleep with him?" He demanded to know in a low voice.

You blinked in surprise. "Ben?" You asked in a confused tone. Miguel didn't reply, he just continued staring down at you with a deep scowl carved on his face. After a silent pause, you couldn't help but laugh derisively at him.

"Oh wow, jealousy looks good on you," you stated after your laughter subsided, your lips still pulled in a smug grin. Miguel's eyebrow tightened slightly as he continued glaring down at you. "You think this is funny?" He questioned with a sharp edge to his voice.

"I'm laughing, aren't I?" You shot back.

"Well, maybe you'll find this funny, too," he said as he crossed his arms resolutely over his chest. "No more missions."

Your smile dropped instantly, and every trace of humor evaporated from your mood. "Excuse me?" You demanded in a baffled tone. "You don't get to run any more missions," Miguel repeated, his voice hard and uncompromising.

"And why the hell not?" You demanded to know. If there was one thing that he could've said to get you riled up, it was kicking you out of the Society.

"Because I said so," he replied arrogantly. "Not laughing now, huh?"

"You're grounding me?" You exclaimed in indignation. Miguel shrugged, still glaring down at you with an irritated expression. "Until you stop acting like a fucking brat," he retorted harshly.

"You're being absolutely ridiculous," you fumed. "All this because I stayed back with Ben?"

"Yes."

"Why does it matter?"

Miguel stepped forward suddenly, and he uncrossed his arms to slam them against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you between the wall and his body. "Because you're mine," he seethed in a low voice.

His response made your heart start beating faster in your chest. In the silence that followed, you couldn't resist staring down at his full lips. "There is not another person in the whole goddamned multiverse who can touch you," he continued in a deep, angry voice.

There was another beat of silence before you raised a hand up to his chest. You trailed it slowly upwards over his muscles as you looked at him through your lashes. "And if there is?" You tested, curious to see his reaction. Envy flashed across his face at the thought of you with someone else. He grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled your hand off of his body as he leaned over you.

"Then no more," he whispered.

You stared up at him for a moment before a sly smile began growing on your lips. His possessiveness shouldn't have surprised you, and you couldn't deny that the jealous anger on his face made you hot.

Without answering him, you pushed up on your toes and kissed him. He took a moment to relax, but when he did, he released his grip on your wrist and wrapped his arms around your body. Your hands slid behind his neck as you pulled yourself closer to his body. His knee pushed between your thighs, causing you to break away from his lips with a moan.

"There was never anyone else," you whispered, sounding slightly out of breath. "It's only been you." Miguel let out a hot breath against your neck before lifting his face to kiss you again, this time, with more eagerness and passion. His hands wandered down your body, over your ass, and gripped your thighs before hoisting you up. Your legs wrapped around his torso while your tongue moved impatiently against his own.

After a moment of him holding you upright like that, Miguel began stepping towards your bed. He dropped down onto the mattress, his hands immediately started moving under your shirt, all the while never breaking away from your kiss. He was eager to get you undressed, and it was only a matter of seconds before your shirt was off.

"Only I get to see you like this," he murmured. He placed kisses on your neck while a hand reached behind your back to remove your bra. You closed your eyes and let out soft, little moans with every eager kiss he pressed to your skin. After a few moments of blind grasping, he unhooked your bra and tossed it aside.

"Only I get to feel you like this," he told you, his hands gripping your breasts as he spoke. You hummed a quiet sigh as he kissed all over your skin. His tongue traced over your sensitive skin, and your fingers grabbed fistfuls of his hair in reaction.

You were growing restless with every touch he made and every word he spoke. You tugged at your pants with one hand, and when Miguel noticed, he was more than willing to help remove them. With you completely undressed beneath him, Miguel's kisses grew sloppy across your body. His suit finally retracted to expose his tanned skin and hard muscles.

"Only me," he murmured, sounding breathless. "¿Me entiendes?"

You let out a soft moan and nodded. You had never desired anyone but him since you first joined the Spider Society, and you doubted that would change anytime soon. He'd had your attention from the first day. In fact, despite his cold and reserved nature, Miguel always unwittingly seemed to draw people to him. You knew you weren't the only one who found him alluring.

With that thought, you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him off of you just enough to grab his attention. "And what about me?" You asked him quietly, staring straight into his lustful eyes.

His eyebrows drew together ever so slightly, and he didn't respond for a second. With a strong shove, you rolled him off of your body and hovered over his instead. Miguel seemed caught off guard as you straddled yourself across his torso, and when you grabbed his throat with your hand, he groaned softly and clenched his jaw.

"Am I the only one who gets to see you this way?" You asked softly, your innocent tone juxtaposing your domineering posture as you pinned him down firmly by his throat. Tracing your free hand across his chest, your fingers brushed over his skin with feather-light touches, making him squirm beneath you.

"Am I the only one who gets to touch you like this?" You questioned, bringing your face down to his and gently running your tongue over his bottom lip. His own tongue darted out and slid against yours, eliciting a smirk from you.

When you pulled back, you looked down at Miguel expectantly. There was lust burning in his eyes, and his hands slid up the sides of your thighs in admiration.

"Only you," he promised breathlessly.

You studied his face for a moment as a crooked grin grew slowly on your face. Your hand released his neck and wandered down to his chest, and you leaned over so that your face hovered over his. "Only me?" You repeated quietly, your nose brushing against his.

Under your hands, you could feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest. His head tilted upwards to try and kiss you, but you were just out of reach. "Only you," he breathed, and one hand came off your thigh and pulled you by the back of your neck down on his lips.

You smiled against his mouth and felt his hand return to your thigh. His fingers dug into your skin as he pulled your body upwards. You didn't realize what he was trying to do until he moved his arms under your thighs and hoisted you up toward his head.

You couldn't resist the giggle that sounded in your chest as he moved you upwards. "So impatient," you told him with a smile, his strong arms pulling you so quickly that you had to catch yourself from toppling over. He ignored you and kept pulling your hips toward his mouth, but you resisted, opting to see how he reacted to your denial.

He tried once more pulling you up to his face, but again, you resisted. His eyes flashed up to yours, and you could see the desire he had to taste you. His breathing was heavy, and he looked annoyed at your refusal.

"What do you say?" You asked sweetly, running a finger across his lips. Miguel's jaw clenched when he realized what you wanted him to say, and he closed his eyes for a moment to fight back his impatience. When he opened them again, you could see how his expression had morphed from frustration to restlessness.

"Please," he said finally, eyes burning impatiently. He didn't sound happy at all about having to beg, but you knew he was growing desperate to taste you. You smirked down at him and whispered, "Much better."

Miguel didn't waste another second before pulling you up to sit on his face. He pulled your hot entrance to his mouth and immediately began devouring you. A loud gasp was forced out of you by the hungry movements of his lips and tongue. You fell forward at the overwhelming sensation, your hands grasping the sheets beneath you with a vise grip.

He made you feel so good. His tongue moved eagerly between your folds before teasing your clit. Every time it brushed over your sensitivity, your thighs spasmed around his head, and you would quietly moan, "Fuck." Based on your cues, Miguel knew exactly where to focus to get the reactions he wanted. He would start building momentum with your clit, and just when your breathing started turning into panting, he would move his tongue further down your cunt to your entrance.

After the third time that he pulled that stunt, you realized he was teasing you. Frustration burned in your chest as he denied you yet again, and you released the sheets in one of your hands to grip his hair tightly. Tugging his hair harshly, you glared down at him and snapped, "If you don't stop fucking teasing, I'm getting off."

His eyes narrowed in displeasure. Before you could try to move yourself off of him, his hands tightened around your thighs, and he actually started sitting up. You gasped sharply in surprise as he lifted you up just enough to roll you over onto your back, your head against the wall so you couldn't crawl away from him as he trapped your thighs in his arms. Such a display of raw strength was both startling and incredibly arousing.

"You're not going anywhere until I fucking say so," he growled. Without another word, his mouth returned to your pussy, and he resumed eating you out like a man starved.

Any sharp retort you could have made was smothered as the pleasure you felt snatched the air from your lungs. Your back arched off the mattress as you gasped desperately, and your legs struggled against his firm grip in reaction to his mouth against you. His tongue moved so well against you, and between your gasps and moans, you could only whisper, "Fuck."

Miguel didn't seem so interested in his little teasing game anymore. His tongue focused entirely on your clit, and he experimented with his pace and strength. When he found the perfect tempo and pressure, the hand that was still gripping his hair would tighten, and a whine would rise up from your throat. Soon enough, your breathing was growing shallow, and every muscle in your body began tensing.

He could tell you were close, and it seemed to make him even more ravenous. His arms wrapped around your thighs to pull them open even further, and his whole body seemed to move in an effort to get you off. You blinked your eyes open to look down at him and saw that his dark eyes were staring up at you hungrily. His body was moving restlessly, and you realized that he was grinding his hips against the bed in an effort to give himself some relief.

That did it for you. Seeing him so turned on by eating you out that he was desperate for his own release tipped you over the edge, and your whole body began shaking as you cried out in pleasure. Miguel moaned against you as your legs tightened against his hands, the bass of his throat adding to the pleasure that coursed through your body.

Unlike last time, Miguel stopped right as it was becoming too much for you. He lifted his head off of you and watched as your body shuddered from your orgasm. As you started coming down from your high, Miguel started crawling slowly up your body while you recovered your trembling breath.

He trailed his wet kisses up your stomach with agonizing slowness. His hands were planted on either side of your body while he moved his mouth up your torso. You whimpered quietly when he placed his mouth over one of your breasts, running his tongue over your sensitive nipple. He continued moving upwards after a moment until his face was buried in the crook of your neck, and he took a deep breath as he inhaled your scent and sighed against your skin.

"Nobody can make you feel as good as I can," he whispered in your ear. Your ability to speak still hadn't fully returned, so you shook your head in agreement with his statement. He placed a kiss on your neck while one of his hands reached down to hold your thigh as he aligned himself to you.

You were holding your breath with eyes closed in anticipation as you felt the tip of his cock push just past the entrance of your pussy but not further. Miguel's forehead rested against yours, and he let out a small grunt as he restrained himself from pushing further into you.

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice deep and hoarse with desire.

With effort, you managed to blink your eyes open to look at him. Miguel's dark eyes were focused on your face with such intensity that despite all the sinful things you had done and were currently doing, you felt your cheeks grow warm, and you blushed. There was a moment of stillness between you with only the sounds of your quiet panting to fill the silence. Miguel was looking down at you with more than just lust. There was a softer element to his gaze, something like admiration or even adoration in his eyes. Whatever it was, it flustered you.

Then, that moment of stillness passed, and he pushed himself into you. A loud groan emerged from your lips as he stretched you out, and you squeezed your eyes shut again. Miguel exhaled a stuttering breath at the feeling of being inside you, and his head fell to rest on your shoulder.

"You always feel so good," he gasped softly as he started rolling his hips into yours. Your hands gripped at his back while you let out quiet moans with every thrust. His hand on your thigh drifted up your body to one of your gripping arms, and he pulled it off his back and laced his fingers with yours. He pinned your hand next to your head as he continued moving steadily inside you.

"Eres mía," he panted in your ear. "Solo mía." You understood the words he was saying, and they made you desperate for more. You are mine. Only mine. Fortunately, you knew exactly how to respond to him. Turning your lips to brush against his ear, you whispered, "Sí, soy tuya." I'm yours.

Hearing you whine like that in his native tongue drove Miguel wild. The grip he had on your hand tightened, and his pace quickened as he drove his cock deeper into you. Your head pressed back against the mattress with closed eyes, and a long, needy moan sounded from your throat.

Miguel's face was resting against your shoulder as he grunted with each drive of his hips into your pussy. His mouth moved restlessly over the skin of your throat, and his breathing was heavy in your ear. You could tell that even with his strong, steady thrusts, he wanted to do more to you. You knew it by the way he would place opened-mouth kisses on your neck and let his teeth barely graze your skin before pulling away with a muffled groan.

You turned your head slightly so that your cheek rested against his. "I know what you want to do," you whispered in his ear. "You don't have to hold back." Miguel's face turned, and his eyes opened to gauge whether or not you were saying what he thought you were. You pressed a kiss to his lips before turning your head away and exposing your neck for him.

Miguel didn't need any more prompting or encouragement from you. His fangs pierced your skin at the base of your neck, making you gasp sharply as his jaw firmly clamped around you. He moaned at the relief of being able to sink his teeth into you, and now that his restless desire to bite you was being satisfied, his thrusts grew faster and stronger. Loud gasps and long whines filled the air since his unrelenting pace made it impossible for you to be quiet. Your nails were digging into his back while your pinned hand squeezed his, and the combination of pleasure and pain left you unable to think straight.

You realized he was growing closer when he started making more noise. His hips were snapping harshly against yours while he was grunting and even moaning against your neck. His interlaced fingers tightened around yours as his body tensed and finally stilled with a groaning sigh of relief.

The stillness lasted for a moment as he remained on top of you with only the sounds of your accelerated breathing between you. When Miguel finally moved, it was to release your neck from his jaw. You were expecting it this time, but the sharp sensation of his fangs pulling out of your skin still made you flinch.

"Painful?" he asked quietly after a moment in a hoarse voice. You took a few breaths before admitting, "A little bit." He raised his head off of your neck, and you saw genuine concern in his eyes. You smiled softly and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "But you made me feel so good, it was worth it," you whispered to him.

He studied your face for a second before lowering his mouth back onto yours in a long, lazy kiss. He eventually moved his lips down to your neck where blood was beginning to bead up from his bite. As he kissed you, he let go of your hand and pulled out of you, causing you to groan quietly. Miguel pulled away from your skin after a few heartbeats and rolled over next to you with a soft grunt.

You both lay in silence for a little while as your breathing started to even out. Your eyes had been closed, but after after a moment, you opened them and turned your head to look at Miguel. He was staring up at the ceiling with a faraway gaze, and you noticed how his eyebrows twitched with a perplexed expression.

He knew that you were looking at him, and after a moment, he sighed and turned to look at you, too. "What?" he asked quietly, his eyes containing hints of suspicion. You paused, studying his face for a second. "I can never tell what you're thinking about," you said finally. Miguel turned his face back up to look at the ceiling before muttering, "Good."

You rolled your eyes with a little huff of amusement. "But I can tell when something is bothering you," you continued. "What is it?"

Miguel didn't respond for a while, and you were starting to think he wouldn't answer. Finally, he let out another sigh and stated quietly, "That anomaly is going to wreak havoc on the multiverse." It was your turn to sigh, and you rolled over onto your side and rested your head on your hand.

"If you get to have rules, then so do I," you told him. "My rule is that you are not allowed to talk about work while in bed." Miguel's face turned back to look at you, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"Alright," he conceded. "No work." You smiled in satisfaction and said, "Good," before rolling onto your stomach and resting your head on your pillow while still facing him. His eyes never left your face, and you saw a glimmer of amusement in his expression.

"Are you staying here tonight?" Miguel asked softly, shifting his body to face you better. You closed your eyes for a second and let out a short hum. "I don't think so," you admitted when you opened your eyes. "I've got things I need to take care of back home."

He nodded silently in understanding, his eyes looking away from you. "Plus, I need to fix my suit tonight," you continued, "and I never keep any of my supplies at Web-Quarters."

Miguel's eyebrows scrunched together, and he closed his eyes for a second. "Web-Quarters?" he repeated, sounding incredibly disappointed. You chuckled at his reaction. "Oh, c'mon," you laughed, nudging his arm with your hand. "It's funny."

"It's stupid," he countered flatly.

"You're the only one who thinks so," you told him. "All the other Spider-People think it's great." He raised an eyebrow at you. "You've called the compound 'Web-Quarters' to every single Spider here?" he asked doubtfully.

You rolled your eyes. "Well, not all of them," you admitted. "But everyone I've said it to thought it was hilarious." "Like who?" he questioned skeptically. You looked upward as you recounted everyone who you had shared your little pun with. "Jess, Pav, Peter B. from Earth-616, Peter from Earth-13122, Gwen Stacey, Ben Reilly," you listed out for him.

At that last name, Miguel's face darkened, and he let out an irritated huff. "I don't want to hear you mention Ben Reilly to me ever again," he told you in a low voice. You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes at him. "I'm serious," he insisted in a grave voice.

You studied his face for a moment, and you could see just how serious he was being. After a pause, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows and moved closer to him so that your face hovered over his. You raised a hand up to his face to brush away some of the hair that had stuck to his forehead and asked with a smug grin, "Why does it bother you so much if I do?"

You knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him again. He didn't respond for a second, studying your face quietly as his hand slid under your stomach and snaked around your waist. "Because I don't want you to think about anyone else when you're with me," he murmured as his eyes fixed on your lips.

The corners of your mouth curled upward, and you ran a finger over the angles of his face. You noted how his dark eyebrows were relaxed instead of drawn in a scowl, his eyes were observant but not critical, and the shape his full lips looked more like a smile than a frown. He was at ease when it was only you, and that filled you with an unexpected sense of satisfaction.

"I already told you," you said softly. "There was never anyone else." He hummed, running his fingers up your back. "Good," he whispered before lifting his head up and kissing you gently. You smiled against his lips and savored the feeling of your body against his.

The quiet moment between you was interrupted when a yellow, holographic form appeared from Miguel's watch. "Aww, you guys are so cute," Lyla cooed. Her figure was postured on her stomach with her head in her hands and her legs swinging like a giddy schoolgirl.

You and Miguel both jumped and cursed in surprise. "Lyla!" Miguel snarled in admonition, obviously irritated and embarrassed at being caught in bed with you. You buried your face against his shoulder with an awkward laugh as you felt your cheeks grow warm in embarrassment.

"Aww, c'mon," she lilted in amusement. "You don't have to be shy. I've known since day one." "Go away, Lyla," he growled, pulling at the comforter of your bed to try and cover himself. "I just wanted to let you know that the anomaly popped up again," she explained, "but it's been tricky tracking him since he disengaged the homing device."

Miguel huffed an exasperated breath. "Can this wait?" He snapped, still pulling at the blanket beneath him. "Not for much longer," she told him with a shrug. He heaved a large sigh and ran his hand over his face. "Fine," he muttered. "Now, go away."

"Alright, alright," Lyla said dismissively. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me." With a smile and a wink, she disappeared.

You and Miguel laid in silence for a moment until you broke it with your laughter. Your shoulders were shaking as you laughed out the embarrassment that had washed over you. Miguel sighed again and turned his head to look at you. Seeing your smiling face caused his to soften considerably.

"Remind me to reprogram her," he grumbled quietly. You hummed in amusement and placed another kiss on his lips. "I guess that means you should get going," you said. Miguel closed his eyes and pulled back his arm from around your body. "I guess so," he agreed reluctantly.

You moved off of his body to allow him to sit up. He rubbed his hand across his face and pushed himself up off the bed while his suit enveloped his body again.

"How is that not nanotech?" You asked curiously as you watched him stand up. "I told you, it's much cooler than that," he stated. You hummed indifferently. "Yeah, yeah," you mumbled as you stretched out on your bed. "You always keep the cool toys for yourself."

He smirked down at you before lifting his arm to type something on his watch. "Sounds like somebody's jealous," he commented without looking at you. You raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I wouldn't say that I'm the jealous one out of the two of us," You shot back.

Miguel seemed amused at your comment but didn't respond to it. Instead, he said, "You're still on call, you know." You smiled while sitting up to get dressed again. "So, I'm not grounded anymore?" You asked teasingly.

He turned and looked down at you with a thoughtful smile for a moment. "Don't test your luck," he muttered as he turned and walked out, leaving you staring at the door and wishing he would stay just a little longer.

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readychilledwine · 1 month

Text

Schedule Conflicts

Summary - Azriel shouldn't plan dates when he's tired. Luckily, Lyria finds a solution that makes everyone happy. Game Night.

Warning - just wholesome Fluff, slight mention of smut, Liz's dream of a friendship between Nesta and Rhys forming

Prompt - Day 7 - Free day

A/n - As @polyacotarweek comes to a close *and I post 3 fics for today* I want to make sure to thank @acourtofladydeath and anyone else involved for organizing this week. I personally believe that ending stereotypes involved with "alternative" lifestyles is so important. I genuinely enjoyed this week, and hopefully, we will all get to partake again next year!

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

“Cassian!” Panic hit Azriel the second Lyria was throwing her arms around Cass, smiling wide as she did before immediately leaving him in favor of Nesta.

He checked his calendar again, growing pale as he realized in his exhausted state from his previous mission he had double scheduled a date.

He looked to Cassian who immediately seemed to know and moved over. “We can leave.”

“She's been looking forward to this all week.”

“Rhysand has been looking forward to her all week, too, Az. He has a kid. He needs her, we can-”

“No. Let me talk to her. Lyria, baby, can I fix your dress?” Confused eyes met his before she nodded and followed. He sighed as he shut her bedroom door behind them. “I fucked up.”

Lyria made a face, nodding for him to continue. “I accidentally planned date night for you with Cass and Rhys. Feyre, Nesta, and I were all planning on going to Rita's anyway, but you have Rhys and Cass tonight.”

“Oh. That's not a big deal. Cassian and I were talking about him teaching me poker anyways. A third body would be helpful.”

Azriel felt his brows go up. “Cassian only plays strip poker.”

“I am aware,” the smirk had Azriel smiling at his mate. “Rhys knows he can't touch.”

“He'll watch, though.”

“Feyre won't mind. He goes home to her and it will rile him up for her.”

Azriel smiled softly. “Rhys will mind because he genuinely loves you. He and Feyre would like to change our rules a bit, but are waiting for you."

“Then we should all hang out here.” He watched Lyria walk to a closet he had yet to explore, jaw falling slightly as she opened in. “You said you all like board games, right? I have plenty.”

Plenty was an understatement. Lining the shelves of this closet were games from every court. Trelis from Spring, Mancala from Dawn, Risk from Night. Azriel picked his jaw up as he went to look. “Why have you been hiding all of this?”

“I normally only play with Eris and Lucien.”

Azriel smiled before picking several games they had all been wanting to get a hold of and play a few days ago before kissing his mate. “You are so smart, angel. Let's see if we can compromise.”

Rhysand and Feyre had arrived, luckily dressed casually and were laughing with Nesta and Cassian. Azriel set the board games down on the counter and turned to Rhys. “No more planning dates when I'm half asleep from missions.”

The High lord was too stunned at the collect to even respond. “Are these all hers?” They all turned to where Lyria had came out, several bottles of alcohol and a wooden box in hand.

“Who wants to take me to go get snacks?” Rhys and Cassian looked to each other before Rhysand came to her. “Perfect. Ness, you want cake?”

“Always.”

“Cass? Something crunchy?”

“Of course, princess.”

“Feyfey, lots of fruits?”

“Ooooh strawberries if you two can find them!”

She turned to Az, “I won't expose you.”

Rhysand then coughed, “The bakery. We'll just get whatever the bakery has.” Cassian glared as Rhys smirked and smacked Lyria on the ass as they walked out.

“I get her all night.”

“Excuse me?” Feyre laughed as Nesta glared to Cassian.

“You three were supposed to go to Ritas.”

Feyre gasped, looking to Nesta and grabbing her hands, “We could still go! Play a couple games and leave Rhys, Lyria, and Cassian alone.”

Nesta nodded eagerly. “Only if you're okay with sharing Az.”

“Az was made to be shared. Rhys already said he was okay with sharing her with Cass.”

Cassian sighed, “In case Cassian's opinion matters, I also told Rhys I'd love to spend the night with them. It's Lyria and Az. Az feels guilty, and we know how Lyria is.”

Feyre smiled. “Little people pleaser.”

Nesta hummed, “The cutest people pleaser. Can we play that one?” Cassian followed Nesta's deadly finger, laughing as he realized she was pointing at a game called “Wingspan.”

They began taking the game out of its protective box. Feyre was admiring the artwork, as Nesta read the rules. Cassian began opening and setting up drinks.

Azriel was moving the table, ensuring his mate's home had enough room as Feyre rested her head on his shoulder, pointing at little brush stroke details.

Rhys and Feyre returned moments later, bags in hand and faint blush on the female's cheeks as the High Lord whispered into her ear.

Lyria has not been expecting the competitive nature of her new circle to come out so heavily during game time. They had switched to partner games, her, Cassian, and Rhys on one team while Azriel sat across from her with Feyre and Nesta. Large hands rested on her thighs, occasionally their pinkies touching as well.

The arguing in the room soon turned to laughter. Laughter into deep conversation, and before all the couples knew, Lyria's home began to mimic a picture perfect sunrise instead of the Night sky.

“Holy fuck,” Cassian looked to the window. “How long were Elain and Lucien planning on watching Nyx?”

“All night,” Rhys replied from his spot next to Nesta. The two were in a heavy discussion regarding proper uses of magical objects. “We had planned to stay the night away from home.”

“I enjoyed this,” Feyre leaned against Azriel, eyes half shut.

“My mate did too. She enjoyed it so much she fell asleep on Cassian.”

They all looked to the mentioned male and where he held the now known Day Court Heiress. She had curled into his lap an hour ago, falling asleep as he whispered to her and wrapped his wings around them to keep her warm.

“Let's do it again, maybe a once a month thing?” Rhys squeezed Nesta's hand. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Ness.”

“It's the first time we haven't ripped each other's heads off.” Feyre smiled bright as did Cassian. “I think we'll still do that from time to time, though.”

“Absolutely.” Rhysand's face was serious, but his eyes sparkled. “Not in front of our starlight, though. Agreed?”

Everyone in the room nodded as Cassian went to carry Lyria to her room. Feyre smiled as Rhysand pulled her up from Azriel. “She's so sweet, Azriel. I'm so glad we all get to enjoy her this way.”

“Me too,” the shadowsinger stretched. “Her heart has so much love to give. I'm glad we all can bask in it.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

#acotar #acotar x oc #poly!acotar x oc #polyamorous visibility #consensual non monogamy #poly+acotarweek 2024 #poly+acotarweek 2024 d7 #feysand x azriel x oc #nessian x azriel x oc

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10yo-anon · 13 days

Text

☆ DARK RED. ☆

Frat!Satoru Gojo x F!reader (?)

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

⚠️: fluff and angst!!, ooc characters prob!! mention of alcohol! not proofread!

WC: 1912. whew!

A/N: guyz!!! im sorry if it isnt good enough!!! and so very sorry because the timeline is confusing!! i hope its more unerstandable when yall read part 1 tohogh!!! and..very sorry for the amout of pov switches!! very sorry in general!!

part 1 part 2

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

*/ after you ran out

"Seriously! Who in their right mind would even call in the— huh?" Shoko's voice immediately softened as soon as she read your contact name. even more so when she hears your sniffling voice and heavy breaths. "im— 'im s'sorry Shoko.. can you, uhm.. pick m' up?.." already grabbing her car keys, she asks you to hold on and wait. you tell her the location, she speeds to you, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas. the one who called literally wasn't in their right mind. damn.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

the both of you stop over at Satoru's apartment, Shoko helping you pack your essentials, so you can stay over at hers for a few days.

When you finally arrive back at her own apartment, she immediately asks if you were okay. making sure she wasn't pushing you to tell her everything. it was a while for somebody to focus on you. not even Satoru did. That thought alone made you break down in ugly tears, hiding your face on her shoulder as soon as she allowed you to as you were embarrassed of your state.

but you couldn't help but continue crying and venting out everything, even with that angel on your right shoulder shouting curses at you for leaving Satoru and pleading for you to "shut up" you still did, from your doubts, your absolute heartbreak the first time you found out he was cheating on you, to your latest and last. everything about your whole relationship, you spat out.

Shoko let you vent it out, let you take the stage and talk until your throat hurt from speaking and your eyes were too sore and tired from crying, simply wanting to close, then did she try to give advice as she knew you were still listening to her.

Only when you slept did she start thinking about other things. She internally gags. why was she even friends with him back then? hell, though she sees him as an acquaintance, why does she still keep contact?

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

*/ when satoru went back.

Where the hell were you? it was in the middle of the night!— or was it the crack of dawn... he can't remember anymore, all he could remember was how fast his heart rate sped up and how it felt.

it's been thirty minutes since he looked around the apartment for you. the only thing he noticed was gone was the disappearance of one of his duffel bags.

the devil on his right shoulder laughs aloud. "oh? guess she's acting a little now, Satoru! you've really done it! it's as if she won't come back after a few days!" and Satoru himself laughs with pride. it was right, you were going to show up after your little tantrum, why did he have to care? there were other better fish in the sea than you! little, wimpy you.

At least he could finally catch a break without you clinging next to him. he could finally stop worrying about having to make excuses for him to leave and secretly go to parties for hookups. it was your fault for feeling sad, anyway. can't you understand he's in his prime? you can't just stop him from enjoying it!

bur if there was the devil on his shoulder, the Angel would always be at his left. "oh Satoru. I warn you now. something bad is 'bout to happen to you." for some reason, he felt anxious. he doesn't know. he doesn't know why he feels that way. he never felt like this when he'd return from his parties, so his solution was to sleep it off instead.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

You thank whoever's watching you from above weekdays were over, coming from the fact you woke up at 9am. your eyes were still slightly sore, so it hurt when you would blink. the same with your throat when you made a sound from yawning.

though you were physically and emotionally drained, you sat up and eventually stood up. prioritizing to thank Shoko for letting you vent and stay at her place.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

Waking up at 10am feeling like shit is what he expected, after the amount of shots he had. it was okay though, feeling hungover was normal for him, what was not was the empty feeling of his bed, how the other side was empty, and the warm aura that usually greeted him was also gone. but what he noticed almost immediately was your missing touch and the way you wake him up by pampering him whenever he felt like this— well... you would actually always wake him up like this..

the world was cruel for making him feel your ghost touch.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

The both of you decide to go to a nice coffee shop to cool down as the extremely hot rays of the noon sun almost melted the both of you. "Shoko, do you really think this is a good idea?" you murmur as you take a sip of coffee. "yes, I do. but if you don't agree to it, that's completely fine." "no, no...I do! its just that its kind of.." "scary?" she takes a sip of her coffee. "well, yeah.. what if I see him? what will I even do?" you respond, twirling your hand in exaggeration. "I wont deny it, you would definitely cross paths with him since we're going to a party.. but all you have to do is to have fun and ignore him, its not like I wont be there myself."

"Shoko, as much as I love you, we both suck at socializing. we're both cursed with awkwardness." "we'll be fine! as long as you give me a few drinks, people wont even notice our 'awkwardness'." she half-jokingly responds.

"any how, I don't even have an outfit for a party." "Guess we have to go shopping."

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

"Yo, Satoru!" His best friend immediately greets him as he accepts his video call. "Suguru!" He responds back with the same enthusiasm. "hey, is your girlfriend with you?" Suguru asks. "nah. she threw a small tantrum so I'm all alone.."

his expected reply. Now it's time Suguru pauses. he has to act normal. he cant and wont let Satoru know he was the reason for your "tantrum". he was already guessing the scenario. maybe you and Satoru had a fight, or similar to that. oh how far his answer was.

"so.. are ya goin' to the party tonight?" Suguru asks him right after. Satoru laughs at his cautiousness, but he raises an eyebrow. "what party exactly?" "that one blonde chick's party!" he pauses for a moment before the light bulb in his head lights up. "oh, her. I think I remember her from the last party we went to." Not taking his chance, Suguru quickly ends the call with a see you later.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧🎧⊹★

As much as you try to pull down your skirt, you still didn't feel less uncomfortable. "Shoko.. uhm. can I maybe call it quits?" you complain the first ten minutes after the both of you walked into the blazing lights of the party. unluckily for you, your moral support already took shots. "you really are a cute one, aren't ya?" Shoko giggles through the loud music. "you're going to be fine!" she shouts, making sure you hear her.

When she hears people screaming and calling out others to play spin the bottle with them, she quickly takes your hand and grips it as tight as she could, before dragging you and herself of the circle of strangers nearby.

and as you try to pry away, your eyes which was nervously looking around the crowd of people, soon meets wide, bright blue ones. your heart drops. He even saw you first.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

"Satoruu! my man!" the other frat guys shout out his name as they lounge on the couch, the desperate girls from the other sorority batting their eyelashes at them.

he walks over to them, leaning on the arm part of the soft couch. "you've been coming to parties more often lately." one of the guys casually bring up. ' yeah! are you back to being single? you finally pried your insecure girl off of you?" another guy continues, and the whole group laughs aloud. whenever they make fun of you, he'd always join in and laugh. but why does he feel irritated?

Before he could talk, a woman's voice interrupts him. "guys!~ we should all calm down! maybe a game of spin the bottle will!" the hostess of the party giggles as she puts her hand up, showing an empty beer bottle.

and of course, he couldn't miss the forced doe-eyed 'innocent' look she gave him, with the additional batting of eyelashes. psh. you could've done so much better.

as the guys invite people to join the game, he slips away from them. If he has to be with that blonde chick, he wanted to do it with alcohol in his body.

as he tries to find his way to the kitchen, his eyes scan around the room. but what he found was not the kitchen. it was your eyes. your oh-so surprised eyes.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

now here you are, sitting with random strangers, Shoko by your side. you notice one reserved space around the circle as they start to spin the bottle.

you notice Satoru a few minutes later, walking back to the said reserved space. you quickly whisper to Shoko about going to get drinks for the both of you before rushing off.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

you cautiously walk in the kitchen. luckily, barely a few people are there. with your head down you go grab two bottles of cold, open beer and once again, you speed walk away.

but you come to an abrupt stop as you bump into somebody's back. "what the fuck?" a menacing voice mumbles as the guy turns around. you're dead. you have to tilt your head up to make eye contact with the guy. he has pink hair, and tattoos. all over his face. shit. you remember hearing about him. Sukuna, was it? a pretty infamous guy around the campus.

before he could curse at the person who bumped him and spilled cold beer on his back, he was met with a woman. a woman who captured his interest. wait. was this one of Satoru's chicks? even better! he decides to stay quiet and eye you up and down, silently waiting for an apology.

and an apology he gets. "ah, shit..I— im so sorry! i really am! I didn't mean to!—" mm.. he doesn't mind an ego boost. He leans down, his mouth right next to your ear, then he talks. "doll, as much as I love pathetic apologies, you should shut your mouth." is it bad you feel butterflies on your stomach?

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

Satoru was about to sit down to play spin the bottle with everyone, but he notices Shoko, and you rushing away. He's not dumb. he knows why you went away. you were scared of him.

He grins. it won't hurt if he decides to play with you for a while, after all, you were his playtoy.

without excusing himself, he continues to walk, now to the direction you went.

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

he did not expect to see this. at all.

he watches a few meters away, fist balled. why were you talking to Ryomen? with a cup of alcohol, too! you know he's his enemy. were you doing this out of spite? everyone knows you're his!

he wanted to grab you by the hand and pull you away, but he'd look desperate. even more so when there's people who know the both of you had a silent fight. so he watches.

his jaw drops when the pink haired man leans down to whisper something to you, and the way you furiously blush right after?! oh how much he wanted to make Ryomen bite the curb. He was the only one who had that effect on you! weren't you smitten with him? why were you letting him do this?

★⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹★

A/N: @the-parasites-control-me THERE. SUKUNA APPEARANCE. HAPPY?? n e ways! very dissapoiinting, i know 💪 i couldnt make up my mind how to end this so im stopping here. im rying with the amount of paragraphs i deleted cause i couldnt pick. arg!

once more, n e ways, a few notes!!

has anyone found out about that one thing i kept highlighting and its meaning? im not gonna tell it yet though!

i know im so far away from the song dark red now. but at this point.. idc 💪 (i bsolutely do. sobbing in a corner rn)

erm!! taglist! gasp!

@sukioyakio @ilovebattinson

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slayfics · 1 year

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Muichiro’s Mansion

Muichiro x Reader series

Muichiro decides it’s time you start going on missions with him.

Chapter 7

Muichiro had been gone for two days now and you were sure he’d return soon. You had picked out some new plants for the house to replace the dead ones, since you decided they were too far passed to nurse back to life. You also made sure to train extra hard like he asked you to do.

You were sitting down eating when you heard the front door open and Muichiro enter.

“Welcome back Master Tokito!” You said with a smile.

"That smells good.” He said, commenting on the food you had just finished making.

“There is plenty more if you’re hungry.” You replied, and Muichiro sat down to eat with you.

“How was the mission?” You asked, wanting to know what kind of demon he had encountered.

“Simple. Just some minor demons to take care of and some scared Kanoto ranks to save. It’s a wonder they made it this far. That demon was child’s play. They should have been able to handle it without a Hashira.” He stated. “I want you to come with me on my next mission.”

“Really??” You couldn't help but let the excitement show on your face. Your first mission together. This must mean he had felt you were getting stronger. Even if it was just a simple lower rank demon you two would go against, this meant he trusted you and your abilities finally. The thought of being able to accompany Tokito by his side as his Tsuguko gave your stomach butterflies.

“Yes, I think you are more than capable.” He said, as he finished scarfing down some food. “Also, before I forget I passed a village on the way back and brought you this.” He said holding out a hair pin with beautiful flowers on the end. “That is your favorite color right?”

“Yes, it is.” You said grabbing it from his hand unsure of what to say. Muichiro hardly remembered anything, so the fact that he remembered your favorite color and stopped to pick something out for you was leaving you dumbfounded. You weren't sure what to say, or how to feel. You stared at the hair pin in your hand trying to figure out the right words.

“Do you not like it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“No that’s not it! I’m I- It's very beautiful thank you Tokito.” You finally managed to say. He grabbed it back from your hand and moved closer to you and gently placed it in your hair. He sat directly in front of you now, staring at you intently. You weren't sure what to do, it felt like when a cat climbs into your lap and you're afraid if you move or breathe it will get scared away. He stayed silent taking you in for a few moments before speaking again.

“We should get some rest. Training starts back up tomorrow at dawn. Once I get another mission, we will leave right away together.” He said getting up and starting to help clear the table. You stayed frozen for a few more moments still trying to process what had just happened. “Oh, were you not done eating?” He asked, seeing you still sitting down.

“Sorry I am!” You said getting up quickly and helping to clear the table.

"Also the plants look nice, thank you. I'll try to remember to water them this time." He said.

"I could also tend to them for you if you wish." You offered.

"Hmm.." He said and seemed to space off. "Yes... maybe that would be better. Goodnight.'' He said and left swiftly in the direction of his room.

You watched as he walked to his room leaving you alone in the room. You sat back down to try and process the events of the night, so much had changed it was dizzying.

Muichiro had brought you back a gift, remembered your favorite color, helped clean the table again, and he was offering to take you on missions. A warm smile found its way to your face as you realized your relationship with the Hashira was finally growing. For once you felt he might enjoy having you as his Tsuguko. You made your way back to your room feeling proud and happy for the first time in a long time.

It did not take long for Muichiro to be summoned to another mission. The next day in the middle of training a crow came to tell him of a demon lurking in the area he oversaw.

“Are you ready?” He asked. “I am!” You replied enthusiastically.

“Let’s go then.” He said and disappeared in the direction of the reported demon, and you followed behind as best as you could.

#kny x reader #kny x you #anime x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #anime x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #muichiro x reader #muichiro tokito #hashira x reader #mist hashira #kny x y/n #kny fanfic #muichiro x y/n #kny muichiro #muichiro’s mansion

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katnissmellarkkk · 2 months

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Yall I did it!!! I actually finished the chapter! Okay so now I was thinking seriously of splitting this chapter in two parts but in the end, I couldn’t find a good, satisfying place to break them in half so… here’s a really long chapter! Hopefully you guys don’t mind 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Okay well anyways, God bless all of you and thank you so much for continuing to read my stuff, following my page here, giving me kudos and especially all the really nice, wonderful comments! Those are like instant serotonin to my brain 🤍.

Anyways hope you enjoy!

It doesn’t take long for Peeta to arrive home. After our call ended, with me tearfully proclaiming I need you, all I could manage to do was stare at the clock. Stare at it and count the minutes until my husband was here with me and not lingering in town, vulnerable and unaware of the most recent turn of events.

Not lingering in town, where Vulcan could find him and follow through with his threat to take Peeta’s life.

I almost choke as the possibility dawns on me. For some reason, in the hours since I awoke, the prospect of Vulcan the Stalker harming Peeta had yet to even cross my mind.

And my head wound throbs and my side aches something awful as the image fills my mind. The image of the person I love most in the world, lying in a pool of his own blood, slowly dying from a wound inflicted by a monster, who for some deranged reason chose me to be the object of his affection. My chest hurts at the very concept that Peeta could be gravely injured and I would be none the wiser. The mere idea quite literally takes my breath away.

The mere idea that what happened to me could happen to Peeta makes my eyes fill up, and I wonder if I begin to hyperventilate how much it’ll damage the stitches in my side. How much can I move before I damage the seams holding my hip together and keeping me from bleeding out all over the bed.

But — thankfully — I don’t have time to find out. Because before I can have a full meltdown, much like the one I already had upon waking up and finding myself stitched together like one of Prim’s old rag dolls, my husband’s stomp booms as he comes up the stairs, apparently taking them three at a time.

And I’ve never been so grateful for his gait. I’ve never been so grateful that he’s as loud as a bear on a wild chase.

I only wish we could be alone. I wish we could just have a moment to ourselves. But there’s still Enforcers in our hall, conferring quietly among themselves, with no end to their visit in sight. Actually, it’s not just the hall. There is still Enforcers everywhere on our property.

On our lawn, in our kitchen, on the porch, in the living room, the office, the backyard, down the road.

And especially in the spare room where I painted the floor scarlet with my blood. They’ve all been taking turns rotating in and out of that room for as long as I’ve been coherent.

One of the Enforcers — a younger male, who I haven’t had to personally speak to — attempts to stop Peeta as he rushes to get to me, his eyes dark and wild and intense.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” the young lawman says, his tone all business and detached. Like my near death experience is nothing but a bore to him. “This whole house is a crime scene. You can’t be in here-”

“She’s my wife,” Peeta simply states, as if that changes everything.

Because it does. To me and to him.

Because for as long as that handcrafted ring is on my finger, wherever I am, he belongs too. There’s nowhere I could be that Peeta wouldn’t follow. There’s nothing that could keep me away from him.

Read The Rest On AO3

#everlark #thg #hunger games #Katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #everlark fanfiction #thg fanfiction #hunger games fic #everlark fic #my writing #every breath you take 👁✉️❤️‍🔥👀🦋📸👁

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eksvaized · 3 months

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[ Previous ] [ All In One ] part 16, MDNI

this is a looong chapter, but since it’s the last one, I didn’t want to split it into two parts. enjoy!!!

Simon isn't scared of dying. He has always seen it as a natural part of the life cycle, as constant as the changing of the seasons and as certain as the setting sun. It's an inevitability that he, like every other person, will have to confront sooner or later. The idea of squandering precious time and energy worrying about something from which there is no escape has always seemed utterly pointless to him. But now that the Grim Reaper's cold, skeletal hand was rapping on the door, he found himself, much to his surprise, being swept up by relentless and towering waves of terror that ebbed and flowed but never fully receded. Yet, it's not the fear of his own demise that disturbs him—he doesn't give a damn about himself. His anxiety is rooted in a concern for you. The two of you have just met not so long ago, and the thought of losing you fills him with immense dread. He isn't ready to let you go yet.

For the past several days, Simon hasn't engaged in any of his usual activities. Mostly, he shadows you, his gaze tracing your every move with the piercing scrutiny of an eagle. You, on the other hand, strive to maintain a facade of normalcy, a mask of composure and contentment, as if to reassure him that everything is fine. But Simon has an uncanny knack for perceiving the truth. He is adept at picking up on the subtlest of cues, the faintest hints of lies, and interpreting them accurately. His ability to read between the lines is unparalleled, and it doesn't take him long to realise when you're attempting to fool him. Thus, you stop trying to put up a brave face, realising that it's nearly impossible to hide anything from Simon.

Every night ends with you collapsed in his arms, tears cascading down your face like a relentless waterfall. Simon stays with you, holding you tight until you drift off into a fitful sleep. He strokes your back gently, and twirls strands of your hair between his fingers, while his voice, soft as a lullaby, whispers sweet nothings into your ear in a futile attempt to erase the bitter taste of another dreadful day. His efforts to distract you, though temporary, have some effect. Moments of peace, however, are fleeting. As soon as your gaze falls on the bandaged wound on his arm, the harsh reality pulls you back in, swallowing you whole and making you feel as if you're drowning. Simon, realising the sight of his wound makes you sob each time you see it, starts wearing long-sleeved shirts all the time.

Each dawn is a mirror image of the one before, as indistinguishable as two drops of morning dew. You and Simon sleep in until the late afternoon, neither of you having the energy or will to face the day. Most of your time is spent tangled in the crumpled sheets, talking about anything and everything. You delve into discussions about your lives before the world broke apart, offering glimpses into your pasts. He shares stories about his life before the streets were overrun by the biters, about his friends and his time in the military. In return, you tell him about your carefree childhood and how you had meticulously planned your future.

At first, these conversations provide a welcome respite. They allow you both to escape momentarily from the grim reality waiting beyond the walls of your house. But as the day turns into night, and the conversations continue under the soft glow of the candles, you are both painfully reminded of all you have lost and everything you are about to lose.

"You can't just leave the bed, Y/N," Simon insists with a tone of genuine concern. His hands, warm and firm, rest on your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the soft mattress. His touch, though full of care, is also unyielding. He is fully aware that in your current state of weakness, you are too frail to fight him. "You're sick and you need to rest."

"I don't want to waste the last few days of my life lying in bed," you mumble in response; it's difficult to speak because your throat hurts. He nods, but remains adamant, refusing to let you sit up. His fingers carefully comb through your hair, untangling the knotted strands that frame your fever-flushed cheeks. When you gaze into his eyes, it's like peering into a stormy sea, where waves of pain, fear, and worry relentlessly batter against the rocky cliffs. Until this morning, there had been no signs that you were going to die.

After you and Simon got bitten, both of you had assumed that the disease would cause you to fade away quickly. But luck had given you a little more time than you'd expected, and this is the first time you are forcefully reminded that those terrible bites have serious, actual consequences.

"I'll stay with you," he says. You nod in gratitude, inching closer to the frigid wall as he lays down on the narrow mattress. He carefully draws you into his embrace, pulling the covers over both of you and tucking you in tightly.

A wildfire rages beneath your skin, an agonising inferno that burrows deep into your marrow. Every breath you draw is a struggle, akin to lifting a mountain with every rise and fall of your chest. Keeping your eyes open is a tremendous effort. The slightest shift in your position feels as if your bones are grinding together, an excruciating symphony playing out in your frame. Pain resonates in every corner of your body, screaming its presence into your consciousness. You yearn for a respite from this relentless torment, a sanctuary where you can leave this agony behind. There's only one way to escape this, but you know Simon would never let you choose the easy way out.

"Do you think this is the end for me?" Your voice is barely audible, and Simon must lean in closer, pressing his ear against your lips when you speak so he can catch the faintest hint of your words. Your throat is scratchy and parched, your mouth feels like it's full of bitter, coarse sand. Despite Simon's efforts, urging you to drink water or tepid tea as if they were soothing elixirs, nothing seems to douse the discomfort.

"No, of course not." He shakes his head, his gaze drifting upwards.

This is the first, but not the last, time he lies to you. A tremor runs through his exhale, betraying his internal turmoil. Deep down, buried beneath layers of hope and denial, he knows that the odds of your recovery are slim. The cruel hands of fate are slowly pulling you away from him, threatening to reduce you to a mere whisper, a shadow, a faint echo of your vibrant existence. The thought of a world without your laughter, your warmth, your presence is unbearable. Simon refuses to let the thoughts of you passing away cast their dark, monstrous shadows over his mind right now because he knows they will shatter his heart into a thousand shards; he needs to be strong for you.

"I had convinced myself that death wouldn't come knocking at my door, that I was somehow immune to the bite. Yet now, I'm confronted with the reality that my days are numbered, and the bill is due." Even though exhaustion gnaws at you, stripping away your strength, you keep talking.

Your arms coil his sturdy torso, your hands resting upon the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Beneath your fingertips, you sense the reassuring and steady beat of his heart. You rest your head on his shoulder. You are overheating. All you want is some space, to throw off the constricting covers and let the cool breeze wash over your fevered skin. But you can't risk pushing him away. What if that was the last time you got to see and be with Simon? The potential that this may be your final moment enveloped in the secure embrace of his arms terrifies you. You cling tighter to him, refusing to let go.

"You should close your eyes. Rest," he says, after noticing that you are struggling to stay alert.

You resist, your will compelling you to stay awake, to remain present in the moment. But your body betrays you, and the allure of sleep is too potent to ignore, too enticing to resist. His fingers trace a gentle path up and down your side. His touch is as soft as a whisper against your flesh. It's a calming rhythm, a silent promise that he's there, with you, a constant presence in the quiet stillness of the night. Every so often, he dips his head to place a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips linger there. Before you even realise it, the comforting rhythm of his touch and the gentle cadence of his breathing lull you into a peaceful slumber. And there, in the tranquil silence of the night, you both surrender to the embrace of sleep.

As the first rays of dawn pierce through the thin veil of darkness, your eyes abruptly shoot open in response to an overwhelming sensation. It feels as though every fibre of your being is under siege, a relentless assault that leaves no corner of your flesh untouched. The pain is so intense, so all-consuming, that it feels like every bone in your body is breaking into a thousand fragments and then reforming, only to shatter again in a relentless cycle of torment. Your head is spinning, caught in a stormy whirlpool of confusion and disorientation. Your vision is fuzzy. The world around you fades in and out, like a badly tuned television set.

You turn your gaze to the side. Simon, unaware of your internal struggle, is still fast asleep. His calm, rhythmic breathing provides a stark contrast to your own laboured gasps, each one sounding like a desperate plea escaping your parched lips. Despite the turmoil churning within you, part of you is flooded with relief that he's finally getting some much-needed rest. He has been plagued with insomnia for the past few days. And now that he finally has the opportunity to rest his weary eyes, you refuse to be the one to disrupt his peaceful slumber. Your own discomfort, no matter how unbearable, will have to wait.

In a hazy state of drowsiness, you attempt to roll out of bed with all the grace of a newborn foal, taking extra care to not generate too much noise that might disturb Simon's sleep. You leave the bedroom. You don't know where you are going or what you want to do, but your feet guide you, leading you down the creaking staircase.

A nagging dryness persists in your throat. So, you look around for something to quench your thirst. As you enter the living room, your eyes catch sight of a water bottle perched precariously on the edge of the coffee table. You slowly lean down to grab it, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Suddenly, your legs give way beneath you, buckling under the strain of your own weight. With a gasp, you topple over, your surroundings tilting on its axis. The sharp edge of the table corner comes into contact with your head with a sickening thud, and your vision blurs. Before you can even register what has happened, everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

Simon, after a few restless hours of sleep, wakes up. He is surprised, almost shocked, when he notices the conspicuous emptiness of the cold bed. He calls out your name into the quiet room, his voice rebounding off the walls like a lone echo in a cavern. But he only receives a faint pitter-patter of footsteps from downstairs in response. His heart constricts with the cold grip of fear, like a vice around his chest. A thought, as unsettling as a crow cawing in the dead of night, crosses his mind. What if you got hurt while he was sleeping? He berates himself for his momentary lapse, for allowing himself to close his eyes.

Springing from the bed like a startled hare, he dashes downstairs, his feet skimming the steps. When he finally finds you, you are standing alone in the kitchen. Your back is turned towards him, your silhouette is etched against the pallid morning light as you gaze out of the window in a daze. Your body sways slightly, a clear sign that you are struggling to keep your balance, to resist the pull of gravity. It is evident that your fever has escalated.

"You should be in bed," he says, exhaling a sigh of relief. His worst fears, previously pounding in his chest like a wild drum, are assuaged as he looks at you. Given the circumstances, you look relatively fine.

You say nothing, though.

"Come on, let's go." He takes a step closer and tugs at your hand. To his astonishment, your temperature has gone down. Your skin, which was previously radiating with a burning heat, is now strikingly cold, almost icy to the touch.

As he stands there, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, he grapples with the enigma of how you seemingly outwitted the fever without a trace of medication. It is perplexing, to say the least. As you slowly pivot, he drags his gaze away from your interlaced fingers and looks at your face. He stumbles back, gripping the edge of the counter when he realises... you are dead.

Your eyes, a haunting shade of pale grey, are devoid of any discernible emotion. Your face is eerily expressionless. The side of your head is smeared with crimson blood, contrasting sharply with your pale skin. The slow, deliberate movement of your jaw is the only sign of animation - opening and closing in a rhythmic pattern, your teeth clashing together with a harsh, metallic sound. Your movements, though delayed and sluggish, have a predatory quality about them. It is as if every single motion is calculated, deliberate, and incredibly menacing. Then, in a matter of mere seconds, you spring into action. With the agility of a panther, you pounce on him, a guttural growl escaping your lips that reverberates in the stillness.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and your nails pierce his flesh. Simon's eyes widen as he watches your body thrashing violently, as you try to sink your teeth into him. He freezes for a split second. But then his instincts take over, and he drives his knee into your stomach, propelling you to the side and causing you to collide with the fridge. After regaining his composure, he dashes around the counter.

His gaze sweeps across the kitchen, desperately searching for something, anything, with a sharp edge. You are already limping towards him when he grabs the knife. His arm raises. The glint of the blade reflects in his wide, terrified eyes. His grip tightens around the wooden handle. But when it's time to strike, he hesitates, his resolve melting like a candle in the scorching sun, and he cannot follow through. Killing you, even if you are already dead, is something he refuses to do. Simon recoils with a sudden jerk, his eyes locked onto yours. The knife clatters to the ground. He turns on his heels, the noise of his boots on the tile floor ringing out like a hollow drumbeat as he flees the kitchen. In a move borne out of sheer desperation, he grabs the nearest piece of furniture - a heavy oak table - and heaves it against the door, turning it into an impromptu barricade to keep you at bay.

For the rest of the day, he sequesters himself away within the confines of your bedroom. The room acts as a sanctuary, a place that diligently preserves your memory. Each item, each piece of furniture, even the air itself, seems steeped in your essence. Methodically, almost ritualistically, he navigates through your stuff... Simon looks at your pictures and uncaps your perfume, letting the scent permeate the space. His thoughts, like leaves caught in a whirlpool, inevitably drift back to the previous night, replaying it in his mind like a film reel with vivid clarity. The sobering realisation dawns upon him that those fleeting hours yesterday were the final ones that you two have shared together.

You become the only thought that occupies his mind, a constant, unyielding presence that leaves no room for anything else. The world outside ceases to exist; all that remains is you, the memory of you, like a haunting melody echoing in an empty hall. When the weight of the world, heavy as a millstone, becomes too overwhelming for him to carry any longer, his emotions take control. Overwhelmed by grief and frustration, he starts wrecking the room. It's a physical manifestation of his internal turmoil. Simon berates himself, the self-loathing growing with each passing moment, spreading like wildfire in a dry field. He despises the fact that he could not save you from your fate. But of all the regrets, one stands out in stark contrast: he had never voiced his true feelings for you. You died without knowing that he loved you.

After an extended period of causing chaos and disorder, akin to a storm ravaging a once peaceful landscape, he finds himself entirely depleted, a hollow shell echoing with an emptiness inside. Every fibre in his body feels numb, devoid of any sensation. He curls on the bed. The sheets, though devoid of your warmth, still carry the familiar scent of you. As Simon shuts his eyes, he can hear the faint echo of footsteps downstairs. Even though he is aware you are no longer alive, knowing that you are still in this house, with him, makes him calm down and fall asleep.

When he awakes the following morning, he is greeted with the unwelcome sensation of a fever. His body feels hot, and every move is a struggle.

The following three days, he spends in bed, trapped in the prison of his own thoughts.

On the fifth day, as he closes his eyes one final time, the grim serenity of death descends upon him, wrapping him in its stiff embrace.

On the sixth day, you and Simon are dead, roaming in the empty house. And even though you both are just a few steps away from each other - since Simon barricaded the kitchen - he and you never cross paths ever again.

TAG LIST: @randointhecloset, @lurkinwbreexy, @breadpitt69 , @browtfyoudoing , @yelenassafeplace, @itsthealice, @naxxsstuff, @lotionlamp, @aquarianix well, this is finished, fi-na-lly, haha. I’d love to know what you think about it. :) aannd, I hope you had as much fun reading the story as I did writing it!

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #writing #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod #ghost x y/n #call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost #cod ghost #cod fanfic #cod x reader #fem!reader #ap2 #zombie apocalypse #apocalypse

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