#and he also always lets her have the larger half’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serpentandlily · 5 months

Text

Now That We Don't Talk

Part I

Now That We Don’t Talk - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of your mate’s betrayal.

Warnings: major angst, mentions of grief and loss, mention of infidelity

a/n: this has a happy ending, I promise! I’d also like to mention that I never usually blame the woman when a man cheats, but in this case, both parties knew of the existing relationship and bond so *death to all of them* lol jk…for now…I hope this lives up to your expectations!

────────────

“That’s it, Y/n,” Madja said, taking a step backwards as she carefully monitored you between two support beams. “Go slow.”

Your shoulders and arms were straining as you held yourself up using the two beams, slowly raising your foot to take another step forward. You groaned at the pain, feeling flustered and embarrassed that walking was taking you so much effort.

Cassian and Nesta had turned one of the larger chambers in the House of Wind into a physical remedial room. You had sessions in here every day with Madja, Cassian almost always there with you and in times he couldn’t be, Rhys would fly up to be with you during these.

You didn’t have the heart to tell your brother that you preferred when Rhys was here instead of him, only because he always magicked his wings away so you didn’t have to see them. Cassian’s were just a reminder of what you had lost.

Relearning to walk has been one of the hardest parts of losing your wings.

Even now it was a struggle to simply stand. You were too used to the weight of having wings on your back and using them to balance. You felt their absence in more ways than one.

But this one was easier to deal with—the physical part. It was the mental and emotional part that still kept you up at night. The loss of freedom, having to know you’d never be able to fly again. The nightmares. The embarrassment. The shame.

You had never been a particularly proud Illyrian, never agreeing with the way your people were raised and the culture they lived in. But still, having those wings made you a part of something bigger than yourself—a community, a tribe, a family.

You weren’t like Rhys, not a half-breed like him. You didn’t have the pointy ears to make you fit in with the wingless High Fae. You’d always be other to them. And now you’d be other to your people as well.

You tried to blink away the tears forming in your eyes but it didn’t matter. Your brother seemed to sense the change in your mood and rose from his chair in the corner where he had been monitoring the session.

“You’re doing great, kiddo,” Cassian said, trying to encourage you to keep trying. “One step at a time.”

“I can’t,” you choked out, your muscles straining from the effort to keep you upright. “I-I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” Cassian said, sternly. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

“I can’t.”

You wobbled, letting out a long exhale. You had only made it halfway to the other side of the mat. Pain pierced through your still healing back, serving as another reminder of what you had lost. Your fractured hip had healed already but the bones still felt like they were being grinded together every time you moved your legs.

“Thank you for your help today, Madja,” Cassian said, sharing a look with the older healer. “I can take it from here.”

Madja, as if also sensing the shift in the atmosphere, took her leave without argument to give you some privacy with your brother.

“Just make sure she eats something after this. Her body needs more nourishment,” Madja said on her way out. The noise of the door shutting behind her was all it took for the hold on your emotions to completely crumble.

You felt your legs give out as a cry escape from your throat. Cassian darted forward, catching you only just before you hit the ground. He slowly lowered you the rest of the way, going with you to hold you in a tight embrace as sobs racked your body.

“I-I can’t do this, Cass,” you cried over and over again. “I can’t do this.”

He knew you weren’t just talking about walking.

Every intake of breath reminded you of the heavy weight of your heart in your chest. It was unbearable, all consuming. The heartache, the pain, the feeling of the mating bond still lingering in the background of it all. You wanted to rip your heart out, wanted to scream and scream but all that came out were inaudible words and sobs.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured, petting your hair on the back of your head. “I promise you.”

“My wings, Cass, m-my wings are gone,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face.

Cassian cradled your head in his neck, pulling you tighter against him. His own body was tense and you knew he was holding back his own emotions, trying to be strong for you. “I know, kiddo, I know.”

“M-my wings,” you cried. “My wings. I-I want them back, Cass. P-please, I want them back!”

“I would cut off my own wings and give them to you if I could, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered, his voice filled with despair. “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t understand this feeling, would never unless he too lost his wings. You remembered when he almost had after protecting Azriel in Hybern from the blast of the Cauldron. Azriel…Just thinking of his name was making you spiral further, choking on your own sobs.

There had once been a time when Azriel had been the one to save your wings. And now he was part of the reason why you lost them. You weren’t even sure which hurt more at this point. His betrayal or the loss of your wings.

Both felt so violating.

A piece of you, of your body, ripped away along with your trust and heart. Your mate sleeping with another female and coming home to you. Looking you in the eyes and keeping that secret from you each and every day. Making love to you knowing he was sharing himself with another behind your back. How were you supposed to move on?

It didn’t help that you weren’t fully rid of Azriel. The bond was still an unwelcomed presence inside of you, still sang his name–called for him–despite the hurt he had caused you. You wanted to tear it to shreds.

“Why?” You cried, wrapping your arms around Cassian’s neck to fall into him further. Your brother held you as tight as he could, stroking your hair, whispering words of support in your ear. “Why wasn’t I g-good enough, Cass? W-why wasn’t I enough for him? What is wrong with m-me?”

The guttural wails that came from you caused Cassian to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to keep his own tears at bay. Your chest heaved as you struggled to even breath under the crushing anguish that was consuming you. He held you as you shook, held you as your tears soaked through his shirt, held you as he restrained himself from shooting off to go find Azriel and kill him.

“There is nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. Nothing,” Cassian growled. “Azriel is a fool for losing you. He’s the fuck-up. Not you.”

“He is my mate, Cass, my mate. And he–he did this to me. Why?”

“Because he’s a miserable bastard who doesn’t know how to love,” Cassian growled.

You couldn’t even register his words over the pounding of your own wailing heart. “What did I do to deserve this?”

You felt so violated, so vulnerable, so completely and utterly shattered. The pain of your broken heart seemed to echo in the depths of your very soul. Why hadn’t you been enough for him?

Was Elain just that much better? Was she prettier, smarter, a better female? Could she give him something you couldn’t?

“You didn’t deserve this. You did nothing wrong,” Cassian murmured into your hair, kissing the top of your head. “You are so much better than them, sweetheart.”

“B-but then why wasn’t I enough?” Your cries met their crescendo, your hands shaking as you clung onto Cassian’s shirt with tight fists. “Why wasn’t I enough, Cass? Why?”

Your voice was hoarse, your words cracking as you spoke. But there was nothing left to say.

Nothing left to say at all.

You weren’t good enough for Azriel, for your own mate. You weren’t good enough to keep his attention. Not good enough to keep his love.

You were just simply not enough.

Cassian held you there as you cried and cried, held you as the weight of everything you lost engulfed you. Held you through the raw grief that surged like a tempest within you. Held you until you had cried yourself into a fitful sleep, only then rising to carry you back to your room.

────────────

As soon as Mor had gotten word about what had happened, she immediately started her journey home from the continent. She had gone to you the minute she landed in Velaris, but Cassian had turned her away because he didn’t want to interrupt your sleep, something you hadn’t gotten much of since the attack.

But that was okay because she had a few things she needed to take care of.

“Where is she!”

Mor’s shout rang through the entire house, the ground quaking underneath her as she stormed into the dining room where a very morose dinner seemed to be taking place with Rhys, Feyre, Elain and Amren at the table. Rhys shot up from his seat. “Y/n is at the House of Wind with—”

“Not her,” Mor snarled before pointing a finger at Elain, who stared at her wide-eyed. “You.”

Before anyone could stop her, Mor launched herself forward, grabbing Elain by the hair on the back of her head and slamming her face down on the wooden table she was sitting at. Rhys cursed while Feyre jumped up from her seat, thanking the Gods that Nesta wasn’t here for this.

Rhys grabbed Feyre by the arm, shaking his head at her. “Some things need to be fought the fae way. Let her learn.”

Amren leaned back in her chair, not so much as flinching at the display.

Mor kept her fist wrapped in Elain’s hair, pressing her face against the hardwood as the other girl cried out, blood dripping down her nose.

“That was for Y/n because she’s up there learning how to fucking walk again because of you,” Mor hissed before yanking Elain up by her hair until she was standing.

Elain cried out for Feyre but her sister just pressed her lips into a thin line, Rhys’s hand still around her arm. Feyre was disappointed in her sister for what she had done but she still bristled as Rhys’s amusement at the scene traveled down their bond.

Mor decked Elain in the face, the sound audible, causing Feyre to flinch. Elain’s head whipped to the side as she dropped to the floor with a loud sob. “And that was for Cassian because he would never lay his hands on a weak, pathetic female but I will. Remember that.”

Elain’s cries rung out in the room, blood dripping from her now broken nose and a bruise already forming on her cheek. Mor ignored her as she looked to Rhysand.

“Where is the other one?” Her voice was full of anger. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“I don’t know,” Rhys sighed, finally letting go of Feyre. She rushed to Elain’s side, helping her off the floor and out of the room, giving Mor a remorseful look, feeling guilty over what her sister had caused.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“He disappeared once Y/n woke up and made it very clear she didn’t wish to see him. I have no idea where he went.”

“That fucking coward,” Mor grumbled. “Why is Elain still here? This is Y/n’s home, not hers. She shouldn’t have to be the one who leaves and you know she will if those two are still around. Cassian would leave with her too—I’m sure of it.”

“I know he would,” Rhys said, sitting back down and putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do, Mor. If Elain wasn’t Feyre’s sister I would’ve had her banished in a second and Azriel…Gods, he’s my brother. I can’t believe he would do something like this. He loves Y/n. I don’t know why he would hurt her like this.”

“Azriel has always been his worst enemy,” Mor sighed, sitting next to Rhys. “We’ve all tried to help him as much as we could but this just isn’t something we can help him with. Y/n is going to need our support. This could destroy her.”

“It already has,” Rhys replied. “She might leave our court regardless of whether or not we send Azriel and Elain away. I wouldn’t blame her. I’ve already let her know that if she wants out, I’ll have everything set-up for her.”

“What of the girl’s mate? The redhead,” Amren piped up, crossing her arms. “Does he know yet? You know how males are. He might call for a blood duel against Azriel.”

“Lucien has already been informed about what happened,” Rhys spoke. “Cassian has been on a warpath and was all too eager to tell Lucien. I think part of him hoped he would duel Azriel. But Lucien wouldn’t.”

“So what happens now?” Mor asked.

Rhys looked at her and she took note of the heavy bags under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping. Neither had she. She was certain none of them had. Azriel had caused a giant rift in this family—one felt by them all.

Rhys held back his tears, clearing his throat.

“I know what was to be done,” he breathed out. “But it’s going to be hard. He was…He was my brother for over five hundred years. Regardless of what he’s done, it’s going to be hard to say goodbye.”

Mor rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know, Rhys. Nothing about this is going to be easy.”

“He cannot be trusted anymore,” Amren added. “Anyone who could cheat on their mate cannot be trusted. He might as well have spit on the Mother’s face for what he did.”

“I just want to know why. Why would he do this?”

Mor let out a long breath. “I’m not sure you’ll ever get an answer. I think Azriel, himself, can’t even answer that question.”

“I failed her, Mor. I knew how dangerous that mission was. I should’ve never given it to her,” the quiet cry shook Rhys’s body.

“Azriel was supposed to be with her, Rhys,” Mor said. “It’s not your fault. He failed her. This was his doing.”

But Rhys just shook his head, the tears finally slipping free from both of their eyes.

“Get it out now, Mor, before you see her,” Rhys choked out. “It’s…hard to see her in the state she’s in. Prepare yourself. We have to be strong for her.”

“I know,” Mor whispered, wiping at her tears. “I know.”

────────────

“Hey, kiddo,” Cassian’s voice pulled you from your sleep.

You blinked awake, groaning at the pounding in your head. It took you a second to realize you were in your room. Cassian must’ve carried you here after your breakdown yesterday.

Cassian was sitting beside you, stroking your hair. “I brought you some breakfast and someone is here to see you.”

It was only then you noticed the other person sitting at the end of your bed.

“Mor?” Your voice was hoarse, the word barely escaping. “You’re here?”

“I came back as soon as I heard,” Mor said, leaning forward to clutch your hand in hers. “How are you doing, babygirl?”

Mor had always felt like an older sister to you. Her friendship with your brother had made the two of you close.

“I’m…I’m not doing good,” you replied, honestly. “I can’t…I don’t know what to do, Mor. I don’t know how to move on from here. Part of me wishes I died in that alleyway. I wish I died the minute my wings were cut off.”

“I know,” she said, sadly. “I wish I had an answer for you but I don’t. It’s going to be hard, but we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

“Come on, why don’t you sit up so you can eat,” Cassian murmured, putting a hand on your back to help you up.

“I’m not hungry,” you protested.

“You have to eat something, sweetheart,” Cass said gently. “Madja’s orders.”

But you shook your head. You didn’t have an appetite. Everything still hurt so much.

“Just give her a second, Cass,” Mor murmured.

Cassian frowned but nodded. He brushed some of your hair away from your face again and the soothing motion started another round of tears.

“Hey, hey,” Cassian whispered. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Cass! How will I ever be able to show my face again?” you cried. “I will be shamed, spit on, shunned because I lost my wings—because I couldn’t fight for them. I can never return to Illyria. I won’t be able to help train with the girls anymore.”

“Emerie told me the girls are already awaiting your return. They miss you,” Mor reassured. “Who cares about what the stupid males are going to think? Most of those females have had their freedom of flight taken from them. They would never shun you for what happened.”

Your eyes fell on the many bouquets of flowers and get well cards on your nightstand. Cassian had been bringing them to you. Your heart ached at the sight.

“But I failed them, Mor,” you sobbed. “I failed them. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to be a warrior and all it took was one male to completely destroy me. I’m worthless to them now. How can I teach them to fight for themselves if I cannot even do that?”

“You are not worthless,” Cassian said, sternly. “You are more of a fighter than half of those Illyrian males. You continue to fight each day knowing you have to live with the loss of your wings. Most of the males would’ve given up already, sweetheart. You are stronger than you think.”

“I-I’m not. I’m weak and a failure,” you cried. “I couldn’t protect my wings. Couldn’t keep my mate’s love. Couldn’t…couldn’t–”

Your sobs overtook your words, your entire body shaking.

“Listen to me, Y/n.” Mor demanded. “You are not weak. You are not a failure. You are a million times better than the two assholes who hurt you. You will survive this. You will survive him. I promise you, Y/n, I promise you.”

She embraced you, holding you as you broke down into gut-wrenching sobs once again.

────────────

The air was tense to say the least. Rhys was standing behind his desk, palms pressed flat against the surface as he stared at the two people sitting in front of him. Feyre stood next to him as both a pillar of support and the High Lady.

Azriel’s eyes were downcast. He hadn’t even looked at Elain since he had been dragged into this office by Mor—a new black eye and a bruised jaw decorating his face. Elain stared and stared at him, her eyes pleading with him to look at her but he ignored her presence.

Azriel looked rough. He hadn’t shaved, his eyes were bloodshot, but the most surprising thing was his lack of shadows swarming him.

“Where are you shadows?” Rhys asked. “I swear, Azriel, if you sent them after Y/n, I will bring Cassian down here to do with you as he pleases.”

Azriel looked up, shaking his head. “They won’t sing to me anymore. Not since…Not since the accident.”

It was true. His shadows had hissed at him, recoiled in his presence before they dissipated as if they too had felt his betrayal. They had wailed in agony at the loss of Y/n. They had always skittered away in Elain’s presence, probably the only reason they never yelled at him when he was with her…but it seems this time, they had left for good.

Despite his curiosity, Rhys decided to drop the subject. This was not the time or place for that discussion.

“Feyre and I have come to a decision about what must happen due to the results of your actions,” Rhys said, his voice full of authority and resignation.

“What? But we’ve done nothing wrong!” Elain exclaimed. “I know we shouldn’t have gone behind Y/n’s back but we’re in love!”

“I don’t care,” Rhys snarled, baring his teeth. “I don’t care how much you two claim to be in love! Azriel has caused irreparable damage to his own mate—a member of my court, of my family. And you were complicit in that.”

“Are we not your family too? Feyre is my sister!”

“And Y/n is mine,” Rhys retorted. “And Cassian’s.”

Elain crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “So we’re being punished for falling in love? It’s not our fault the Cauldron decided to make someone else our mates. It was never our choice.”

“You’re not being punished for falling in love, if that’s even what we can call this,” Feyre spat out, staring at her sister with disappointment. “You’re being punished for how you handled a sensitive situation. You’re being punished for lying to our whole family and for causing it to be torn apart.”

“You’re not being punished at all,” Rhys snapped. “If you were, both of you would be in a cell in Hewn City and I’d let Cassian decide what your punishment would be considering Y/n would never have the heart to hurt either of you. This is simply the consequence of your own stupid actions.”

Azriel’s head shot up at the mention of your name. “How is Y/n? Is she doing okay?”

Feyre went to answer but Rhys shook his head at her.

“You don’t get the privilege of knowing anything about her at this point, Azriel,” he huffed.

Azriel stood from his chair in anger. “She is my mate, Rhys.”

“Sit down,” Rhys commanded, his voice rising for the first time since the meeting started. “Funny how now you acknowledge her as a mate but not when you had your tongue down Elain’s throat.”

“Fuck you, Rhys,” Azriel growled, but sat, unable to fight the power of a High Lord’s order.

“No fuck you, Azriel! I thought you were my brother! How could you do this to Y/n? To our family? Both of you should be ashamed. You are already getting off easy, don’t make me rethink my choice. Lucien has every right to storm in right now and demand a blood duel against you. And even though it’s not a practice in my court, I’d even let Y/n declare one against Elain.”

Elain’s face paled but Azriel only scoffed in indignation. “As if Feyre would ever let anyone kill one of her sisters.”

Feyre stepped forward, glaring at the shadowsinger and Elain. “I’m done protecting her. Nesta is done protecting her. We have spent our whole lives taking care of her thinking she was just too soft for this world—too naive and innocent. But I think we’re finally seeing the real you, Elain. And it is time for you to face the consequences of your own actions, make your own way in life.”

“So what are you going to do? Are you going to force me to live in the House of Wind like you did Nesta?”

“No,” Feyre said, stone faced before looking at Rhys. They had decided together how they would handle this situation.

“You are both hereby banished from the Night Court,” Rhys declared. “I will not tolerate Y/n having to lose her own home after she just lost her wings and we are going to do what's best for her. Lucien has made it clear that you both will not be welcomed in Day either and Helion is standing by his son’s decision. Beyond that, we cannot help you. You will pack your things and leave immediately. If you step one foot in this court after you leave, I will be notified and you will face worse repercussions.”

“What?” Elain exclaimed. “Feyre, you can’t be serious! Look, I’ll move out of the Riverhouse. We can live in Azriel’s apartment and avoid Y/n.”

“That apartment belongs to Y/n too, you know,” Feyre snapped. “We have already made our decision. We will not be negotiating any terms.”

“Rhys, come on,” Azriel said. “I will leave but you don’t need to banish Elain too. She did nothing wrong.”

“Elain knew you were a mated male, knew you were together with Y/n. While I agree that what you have done is worse, she still knew what she was doing wasn’t right.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Elain cried. “I don’t have any money. I don’t have anywhere to go, Feyre. You can’t just toss me out like this.”

“Azriel has money,” Feyre shrugged. “I guess you’re his problem now.”

“You know none of the other High Lord’s will want me in their courts, Rhys,” Azriel snarled. “Not after the things I’ve done for you.”

“Should of thought of that before you betrayed our whole family.”

“I hear the old Manor is still abandoned in the human lands,” Feyre remarked. “Since Vassa had reclaimed her territory with Jurian at her side and Lucien had moved to Day to be with his father.”

“We can’t survive there,” Elain sobbed. “Humans hate faeries.”

“Not my problem, Elain,” Feyre said. “You’re not my problem anymore.”

“Azriel, do something!” Elain cried, looking at the shadowsinger.

“What do you expect him to do?” Rhys laughed humorlessly. “He no longer has his title, his place in my court. He has no sway here. You both don’t. You will not change our minds.”

“Nesta won’t allow this!”

“Nesta,” Feyre said, “is packing up your things as we speak.”

Elain fell back in her chair, crying.

“I’d say I wish you two the best, but I don’t,” Rhys said. “You have two hours to sort out whatever you have to before I expect you both to be out of my court. Two hours. Do you understand?”

“Please,” Elain begged. “Please don’t do this, Feyre.”

But Feyre only shook her head at her sister. “There’s no going back for either of you. Say your goodbyes, sort out your affairs, but you will leave in two hours.”

Rhys took his leave after that, giving Azriel one last look that was full of disgust, guilt, regret, sadness. One last look at his brother before striding out of that room, never to see or speak to him again.

────────────

Mor had just left when you heard the flapping of wings approaching your balcony. Thinking it was your brother, you pushed yourself to stand and hobbled over to the balcony doors using the walls of your room for support. You opened the door, expecting to see your brother, but your heart stopped when you came face to face with Azriel.

Your eyes narrowed and you went to slam the door, but he grabbed it before you could.

“Please, please just hear me out,” he pleaded. “I will leave, I promise, I just…I just—please.”

“There is nothing you can say that will make me forgive you, Azriel.”

“I know, baby–”

“Don’t you dare call me that!”

Azriel looked down at his feet. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not here to try to earn your forgiveness, Y/n. I know I fucked up beyond repair. I know I failed you, failed us. Words will never be able to convey how much I regret everything.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe as your legs threatened to give out. You were debating screaming out for Cassian.

Azriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stone that looked to be enchanted. He held it out towards you.

“I can’t…I can’t hear the shadows anymore,” he murmured. “But I can’t just leave you without some way to contact me. In case you ever change your mind, in case there is ever a chance that we can be together again. You’ll be able to call for me with this.”

“That is never going to happen.”

“Please, just take it,” Azriel begged. “Even if you don’t want me, please. If you’re ever in danger again and need help, you can use it for that too. Just please, take it.”

When you said nothing, didn’t so much as open your palm so he could place the stone in it, he knelt down and placed it at your feet instead. You stared at him, emotionless. You didn’t want to give him anything. He didn’t deserve your tears or your sadness.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry for the way things ended,” Azriel said. “You deserve a better mate than me. If I never…If I never get to see you again after this, I promise I will find you in the next life and the one after that. I will do right by you. I will give us another chance.”

He stared at you, pleading with you to say anything. Anything. Even if you screamed at him, beat him, cried—anything was better than this utter silence. But you didn’t. You merely looked at him like he was nothing to you. Like he was a stranger.

“Goodbye, Azriel,” you said. “I hope you find happiness in your life. Truly.”

And then you slammed the door shut and walked away.

And he knew then that your words would haunt him for the rest of his life because he knew he had lost the one real thing that had brought him true happiness forever.

────────────

One Year Later ~ Winter Solstice

“Get up, you lazy cow!”

The sheets were yanked off your sleeping body, exposing you to the cold morning air. You let out a shriek, cursing at your brother and trying to grab the sheets back.

“What the hell, Cassian!”

“It’s Winter Solstice!”

“It’s also six in the morning,” you retorted, falling back down on your bed.

“Nope, you’re not going back to sleep,” Cassian said. “It’s time to get up!”

Before you could even respond, Cassian grabbed you by the ankle and yanked you to the end of the bed. You squealed as he tossed you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, pounding on his back as he raced out of the room.

“Cassian! Let me down, you big brute!”

But he only laughed at you, carrying you all the way to the kitchen where Nesta was sitting at the counter with a steaming cup of tea. She didn’t so much as blink as he dropped you into the chair next to her, already used to her mate’s antics.

“Goodmorning, Y/n,” Nesta said, pushing an already prepared cup of tea your way.

“Oh, you are an absolute goddess,” you groaned, greedily accepting the mug. You curled your ice cold fingers around it, relishing in the warmth.

“Hey! What about me?” Cassian yelled, swinging a wash cloth over his shoulder as he started to make breakfast for the two of you. “I’m the one making you guys food!”

“You’re also the one who woke us up, dingbat,” you scoffed, causing Nesta to snort.

It wasn’t long before Cassian was sliding a plate of pancakes your way. “Eat up. You have a long day ahead of you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him but accepted the food, scarfing it down. It was almost hilarious how out of the three of you it was Cassian who cooked the best.

After breakfast, you retired to your room to get ready to go down to the River House for the real celebrations. Cassian had cryptically told you to wear pants, so you did. You had no idea why until hours later, when you were all lounging in the sitting room after lunch.

A knock on the front door had you jumping up from your seat. “I’ll get it!”

No one batted an eye as you raced for the door, pulling it open to see Lucien standing on the doorstep. You let out a noise of excitement, grabbing him in a hug.

“Lucien!” you exclaimed. “You’re here early!”

A few weeks after the incident, Lucien had sent you a letter asking how you were faring and offering you support. He became a lifeline while you had dealt with the aftermath of saying goodbye to your mate and healing. You both leaned on each other during that time because you were simply the only two who understood the pain of having a mate who fell in love with another.

“Happy Winter Solstice,” he said as you pulled away and opened the door wider so he could enter. “I’m actually here to retrieve you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Is everything ready?”

Your brother’s voice came from behind you and you whipped your head around to stare at him. He was wearing his flying leathers now only confusing you further.

“Yes,” Lucien nodded.

“What’s going on?” you asked, suspiciously.

No one else followed Cassian out. Not even Nesta. You frowned as he shook Lucien’s hand, giving him a friendly whack on the back.

“You’ll see,” your brother said with a grin. “Lucien is going to winnow us somewhere, kiddo, to your solstice gift.”

You looked between them with narrowed eyes but accepted Lucien’s outstretched hand. His grin was the last thing you saw before you were pulled away in a flurry of wind. A second later, you appeared in the middle of a clearing.

The tall green grass, the slightly warm breeze, the lack of snow, told you that you were in the Spring Court. You whirled to face your brother who let out a sneeze as soon as he got his bearings.

“What are we doing here?”

“So, you know how when Feyre was brought back she was given a drop of power from every High Lord?” Cassian asked.

You nodded, not understanding where this was going. Your hand slipped into your pocket, around a stone that was always kept there. The one Azriel had left you. You had never used it but for some reason, had never parted with it either. At some point, you had started holding it whenever you felt nervous or fell back into the heartache you had experienced last year.

“Well, of course she inherited part of Tamlin’s shapeshifting powers. And we thought maybe she could shapeshift others the way he does, but after numerous tries, unfortunately it seems as though the sliver of power she received only allows her to transform herself.”

“It was not fun being the guinea pig for those test runs,” Lucien laughed. “When Feyre was unable to do it, we had to turn to someone else.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with me? Or my solstice gift?”

Before either of them could respond, a noise came from the shrubbery in the distance. Tamlin’s beast form pounced out from it, striding towards you. You gasped and backed away, right into your brother’s chest. He placed a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “He’s here as a favor to Lucien.”

“And Feyre and Rhys approved this?” you whispered up to him.

He nodded his assurance.

You let out another gasp as Tamlin shifted back into his fae form. He looked well, better than the last time you had seen him at least. He seemed to have regained some weight and gotten a haircut. You knew he was still in the process of recovering his court. You wondered what sort of strings Lucien had to pull to get him to willingly let you and Cassian come here considering his history with your rulers.

He gave you and Cassian a polite, but bland, greeting which you reciprocated.

“Are any of you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Tam is going to help you shapeshift,” Lucien explained. “If you will allow him.”

“Shapeshift? But why would I–”

It clicked in your head, what they were implying, why they had brought you to this large clearing. You whipped around to look up at your brother who seemed to be holding back tears. He gave you a nod, already knowing what you were asking.

“W-wings,” you choked out. “He can give me wings.”

“It won’t last forever,” Lucien said. “But yes, he can give you wings.”

Tears started slipping down your cheeks and you lurched towards Lucien, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. You…you were going to have wings. You were going to be able to fly!

You didn’t care that it wouldn’t last forever. Just the chance to fly once more was a gift in itself.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his ear. “Thank you.”

Lucien laughed, hugging you back before you slowly pulled away from him. You looked over your shoulder at your brother. “This was your idea?”

Cassian shook his head. “As much as I wish I could claim this, it was actually Lucien who thought of this first. I’m just here to supervise–and to offer you a flying partner if you’ll have me.”

You smiled up at Lucien, unbelievably touched at the thoughtfulness. Lucien wiped your tears from your face, gently, before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Are you ready?”

You nodded with enthusiasm.

Lucien gestured at Tamlin to come closer.

“Thank you for doing this,” you said to him with a small bow of the head.

“I once watched a faerie die after losing his wings,” Tamlin murmured. “Its…Its a horrific crime. One my family has a history with. I’d like this to be my first step towards making amends for their mistakes.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you just gave him a grateful nod of the head. He focused intently on you and you felt his magic surround you. It felt nice, like a crisp Spring breeze. And then you felt a familiar weight on your back. You stumbled for a second, readjusting to how it used to feel having wings. But it surprisingly came back to you quite easily.

You looked at them over your shoulder, stretching them out and flapping them a few times. They looked just like your brother’s and you realized Tamlin must’ve used him as a guide. You grinned, facing Cassian.

“Race you towards the end of the clearing,” you shouted before taking off into the sky.

Your brother’s laughter followed after you as he too launched into the sky.

+++

Hours after night had fallen, you found yourself behind the River House, leaning on the railing to watch the slow moving river. Your wings had since dissipated, but you hadn’t felt this light in a long time. Being able to fly today had healed you in some way.

You had spent a lot of time thinking while you flew amongst the clouds. Thinking of who you used to be. Sometimes you missed that girl, sometimes you wished more than anything to be her again.

But you hadn’t felt that today…

Today, you had felt like a new person. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. And perhaps in a way, you were.

Life had never been predictable. Your whole life had been filled with tragedy and sorrow, challenges and hard work, happiness and joy, regret and insecurities. You had gone through so much, so much, but somehow, you were always able to come out on the other side.

It wasn’t easy. It involved many days of despair, awful thoughts, and soulless recovery. You had to fight to get up sometimes, had to fight just to feel something. Sometimes it seemed like you’d conquer one mountain only to be faced with another.

If it wasn’t for your brother, you were certain you would’ve fallen back a dozen times. But he had been your pillar of strength, your rock to rest against when things got too hard. And Mor and Rhys had been there to help lift you back up.

You had gained new friends, found a new life for yourself. Metamorphosed into a new person.

That girl from a year ago?

Well, you were finally going to let her die.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the stone Azriel had left you. You ran your thumb over its smooth surface. It didn’t hurt as much to look at it now, not like it had before. Before it had represented so many things.

The loss of love, the grief of losing your wings, the reminder that he had betrayed you.

But now…now it just looked like a rock.

You gripped it in your fist and tossed it into the Sidra, watching as it hit the water’s surface with a small thud before sinking down into the black water. Down and down, until it would find its way to the bottom. Perhaps then it would drift out into the sea.

You heard the backdoor to the house open.

“Hey, Y/n, come on!” Mor shouted out to you. “We’re going to Ritas!”

You took one last look at where the rock had disappeared in the water, letting out a long breath.

“Goodbye,” you whispered into the cold air. “I’ll see you in our next lifetime. Maybe then you’ll deserve me.”

With a new weight lifted off your shoulders, you turned and marched back to your new beginning.

#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel acotar #azriel imagine #angst with a happy ending

2K notes · View notes

lyssaluvs · 3 months

Text

Just Play the Part

(Luke Castellan x Fem!Dionysus!Reader)

Summary: A makeover from Silena and the Aphrodite girls gives you the confidence boost you need.

A/N: this took me so bloody long it's borderline embarrassing. also luke is so out of character it almost makes me sick but whatever. god this is so short, i'm so sorry.

Warnings: Use of Y/n, reader is described to have curly hair but that's about it.

Children of Dionysus are rare, daughters even more so. As a matter of fact, you were the only one. To your knowledge… Before you came to Camp Half-Blood, you were an only child, and when you arrived, you suddenly had a much larger family that you did before. A father, brothers, it was fantastic, it felt amazing to have the family you had always dreamed of. However, with a somewhat absent mother, apparently no sisters, and not a whole lot of friends, let alone female ones, you had had little to no feminine influence in your life. This resulted in you becoming a bit of a tom-boy. It’s not that you didn’t want to embrace your femininity, you just didn’t know how.

“Oh goodness, those curls are a mess.”

“That outfit certainly isn’t doing her any favours.”

You heard the whispers as you walked past the small group of Aphrodite girls. As a child of Dionysus, you had quite a talent for theatrics, as well as being prone to sarcastic remarks, so you just couldn’t help but snap back.

“Can I help you?” You asked the group of girls, hands on your hips with your brows furrowed.

“Actually, we were wondering if we could help you…”

---

You now found yourself sat in a surprisingly comfortable barber-style chair in the bathroom of the Aphrodite cabin.

“Sorry I got defensive; I’m not really used to talking to girls much.” You apologise to Silena once again.

“Stop apologising! We love having a new girl to give makeovers to. And who knows, maybe this will give you the confidence boost you need to finally talk to Luke, since he’s obviously too shy to talk to you first.”

You cast your gaze downward as a warmth spread across your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re not that obvious. I just have a knack for these kinds of things, comes with being an Aphrodite kid. Luke, however, is about as subtle a sledgehammer. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” She paused combing your hair to look you in the eye.

You just shrugged.

“The lingering touches when he corrects your stances, yearning stares…” She awaited your reaction and when she was met with a befuddled expression, she continued.

“Oh my god, you’re oblivious. Here’s what you’re going to do. Once we’re done here, you’re going to walk right up to him, and ask him out. There’s no way he’ll say no, so don’t try that excuse. And I’ve seen you on stage, you can certainly play an outgoing character, so if you’re going to use the shy excuse, I’ll tell you to just pretend you’re on stage.”

---

It had been almost two hours and your makeover was finally over. Your curls were healthier than ever, your nails were painted, light makeup had been applied, and you had never felt more beautiful. You looked at your outfit in the mirror, taking note of the way the new flare jeans were much more flattering than your previous daggy cargos, and your camp tee now a size smaller and no longer drowning you.

“You’re lucky orange suits you, now go get your man!” Silena pushed you out the door, giving your butt a playful smack on the way out.

---

Feeling more confident than ever you approached Luke while he was practicing his swordsmanship in front of the setting sun, alone, as he usually was at this time of day.

“Luke”

The brunette boy turned around so swiftly he almost lost his footing. He looked you up and down and swallowed heavily.

“Y/n, you look ama- “

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words shot out of your mouth before you could stop them. Regardless of Silena’s reassurance, if he did end up rejecting you, you wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

His jaw dropped and he looked as though he wanted to say something, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate. The two of you stood in silence for a few moments as you waited for an answer.

“It’s fine if you don’t. I’ll just go.” You began to turn around.

“YES! Sorry, yes, I want to go out with you. Please. I really want to go out with you.”

It seemed his voice had finally caught up with his mind.

Hmm… He’s cute when he rambles…

@elz-zalarrr this one's for you!

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!

#percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #pjo tv show

936 notes · View notes

bunicate · 2 months

Text

rambling abt diluc’s relationship with his sister from the maid, adelinde’s pov ♡ im pretti sure dis was an ask I received on my old blog too ! !

adelinde didn’t have much expected of her besides her daily cleanings and the occasional rotation of taking out the trash, but recently she’s been burdened with the task of looking after you.

you’re a troublesome girl to tend to.

she would never say it out loud or let her feelings show, but master diluc had you spoiled rotten. you were the only one allowed to disturb him in his study and demand the most menial things for the sake of his attention.

you're often half-naked and oversleeping when you weren't bothering him.

she frequently dresses you, and brushes your hair so you could look presentable in front of your brother, and you would insist on only the shortest dresses and skirts. or flat out refuse to have your blouse buttoned all the way. she wouldn’t dare to speak out of turn, but your bosom was nearly visible at all times.

she doesn’t acknowledge her master's subtle glances towards the swell of your chest, or his hand that rests too closely to your bottom.

you both were closer than most siblings. that she knows, the other maids all witnessed it but wouldn’t speak of it lest their master would catch them.

it was an enjoyable job, and it would be a shame to lose it because diluc caught their loose lips flapping away.

adelinde was quick to regard the interactions as siblings who simply cherished each other.

although you’re a handful, you’re also sweet and thoughtful, and she could see why diluc treated you as such. she often helps you clean up your messes from making strawberry tarts, and other little gifts that you give diluc. by the end of the day, you’d be exhausted, and each time she’d lay a blanket over your slumbering body when you waited up late for diluc.

she’d watch you until she’s interrupted by her master's arrival.

“thank you, adelinde. you may go for the night. i’ll take care of her from here,” he’d say.

like routine, she’d bow.

“well then. goodnight master diluc.”

she would watch him slowly collect your body within his grasp, gentle enough not to disturb you from slumber.

he’d pull back the hair that obstructs your face and adelinde could never forget the look of utter tenderness that seeped into his visage.

a certain kind of love unbinds the furrow of his brow and eases the tension in his broad shoulders. his figure would then disappear into your room, and that would be the last she saw of you both for the night.

the next day when adelinde knocks on your door to come in, and you’re already awake.

your pajamas are revealing as always. a skimpy underwear and a strapless cotton top. your hair covers it, but she makes out the bruise on your neck, and she ignores it.

she tries not to appear uncomfortable when you walk downstairs in the same attire and diluc don't even seem phased. he just puts you on the kitchen counter, feeding you blueberries for breakfast.

touches and the palatable air isn’t enough to jump to conclusions, but she supposes she no longer had a choice anymore when she mistakenly walks into the living room and witnesses such a sweltering kiss.

her master trails his hands on the cheeks of your butt, groping the flesh while he buried his tongue in your mouth.

adelinde is stunned at the sight. her master was kissing his little sister.

a sensation she’s unfamiliar with runs down her body. his tongue is so much larger than yours, wrapping around your smaller one, swallowing your breathy cries. his hands cup your face, and it’s then she realizes how large those gloved fingers really are.

carefully, she watches them trail downwards, slipping into his pants to pull out his thickening and leaky member.

adelinde , felt fear and a tinge of arousal.

he was going to insert his cock between your folds. your pretty silken folds, that sweltered with lust. his dick was hard and angry, and your body looked too perfect — too delicate to be touched.

adelinde licked her lips as diluc entered inside of you. your back arches and your tits jiggle from the comedown of his hips. he fucks into you at a rapid pace, and the sound of wetness on his cock destabilizes the maid's ability to react appropriately.

the moistness is audible between the slaps of skin and the loud cries.

the sheets darken with sweat and cum. your skin is bitten and then kissed, and your moans reverberate in the same room.

the air is hot and sticky and adelinde feels a knot in her belly. she quickly darts out into the corridor and begins to dread the following day. anxiety pricks at her skin at the fear of facing you both once more.

she knows that she’ll have to clean you up in the morning and face the dark truth about her master and his younger sister.

#𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 ⪩⪨ .𖥔 ݁ ˖#lulu ❤︎#:] adelinde mite like reader jus a teeeenzy bit #jus a tiny bit #diluc x reader smut #diluc x reader #genshin smut #tw:incest

566 notes · View notes

brabblesblog · 5 months

Text

They will never be you.

A small drabble set post-Cazador, pre-epilogue.

What if Astarion’s not the only insecure one in the relationship?

Angsty-ish with a happy ending. Enjoy!

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

The drow who was now half draped over his arm was stunning.

You watch from across the room, your dinner half-eaten and abandoned, as he smirks at her and not so coyly puts his hand over her knee. Part of you wants to just storm over and ask him what the hell he was playing at, but the larger part of you thinks that this was to be expected.

After all, how was someone like you expected to match up to someone like him? Someone who turned heads wherever he went, who without any conscious effort stole the hearts of whoever was foolish enough to look at him for too long?

And you? You’re just you. You’ve never turned heads. You were never first choice.

Sure, he had chosen you. But really, weren’t you chosen because of circumstance? You were his first. You had chosen to protect him. You had saved him. How can you not be chosen?

You like to think you were special because you had seen beyond his physical beauty. Had loved him for more than that. However, you know it could have been anyone. Anyone in your position could have also done the same thing.

You weren’t chosen. You just happened to be there.

The slam of your mug down on the table makes everyone stop what they’re doing and look over at you. It would be embarrassing, if you weren’t so consumed with your thoughts.

“I’m retiring for the night. If Astarion looks for me, let him know.”

With that, you leave your half-eaten food and rise from the table, leaving all of your companions stunned.

The only companion not on the table however, misses it. He’s still hand in hand with the drow, whispering into her ear.

The door to your room opens an hour or so later, snapping you out of your nap. You glare as he steps in, and to your surprise and extreme annoyance, he looks giddy.

“Darling, the others told me you left early! You missed-“

Astarion narrowly dodges the shoe you throw at his head. He blinks, the grin slowly disappearing off of his face.

“What’s wrong?”

You stand, trying to not show any sign of the internal anguish you feel.

“I know you’re a bastard, but you could have at least broken up with me or said something before you start picking someone else up in front of my face!”

He blinks, then realization dawns on his expression. He moves quickly, and in a second he’s right by you. He offers you his hands, keeping them close but not pushing to touch you.

“It’s not- that’s not what it was,” he says quietly. “I thought you’d know I was putting on an act.”

“Act or not - it hurts.”

A moment to steel yourself. You don’t really want to open this can of worms, but it needs to happen.

“Look. If you’re done with this. Us. You could just say so, like a normal person,” you say, the sound of defeat inevitably present in your tone.

“And why would you think that?” Comes the reply. He moves to sit by you on the bed. “I trusted you to know that it was just an act. I saw something, and wanted to have it.”

Your mind goes to the worst possible option, naturally.

“Well, did you have it? Did you have her, then?”

With Cazador’s death, Astarion had began to rediscover his sexuality and reclaim it. You are happy for him, of course, but now you wonder if he’s shopping around for better options than you.

He laughs at your words. It is a little incredulous.

“If I wasn’t talking to you, love, I would have thought you insecure,” he begins, but as he finishes his sentence the truth hits him: you are.

You’ve always been the calm, collected one to him. You’ve always seemed so secure and so sure of your relationship. He was the insecure one. He was always frightened of the day you’d realize you could find better.

Now he sees the truth you’ve never really let slip.

He takes a deep breath, unsure how to approach this. Then, he digs inside his pocket and quickly shows you what he has in there. An aquamarine ring, set in an intricately carved band.

“I spotted this the moment we walked into the inn. And I had to have it,” he murmurs in a very different tone. “I got it for you.”

You exhale roughly, and pick up the ring from his hand. “So you decided stealing it by flirting with the drow was how you’re going to show your love?”

It felt ridiculous, but when was he not?

He chuckes. “That was the idea. The execution could have gone a bit more smoothly.” He figures he should have told you of his plan, but then again, would you have even agreed? And he did so want to give you something nice.

You are silent for a few moments, and then you nod.

“All forgiven, then. Just let me know next time.” You’d rather just sweep everything under the rug, since you were proven wrong. And you don’t really want him prying into..

“Did you think I was going to replace you, darling?”

Shit. You wince. “Yes.”

The truth needs to be said. You face him. “Look. I’m just me. I’m your.. whatever I am, because I was there. Had it been anyone else, then it would have been them. I’m-“

“Does it matter who was there? Who was first, who was not? I agree. It could have been someone else. But it wasn’t. It was you.” Astarion shakes his head. “And that is the end of it.”

“And if one day, you tire of me? If you realize you could have a more beautiful, more desirable partner who would also understand and love the real you? If you realize that you could literally have the most beautiful-“

Your words die as lips are pressed against yours, insistent but not rough. He pulls away.

“I needed to shut you up,” he says. “You’re speaking nonsense about my darling, and I will not have it.”

“I’m not special,” you hiss, at last finally managing to get the words out. This venomous thought had been in the back of your mind ever since you had gotten together, but was only voiced now. It was never just him who was insecure about the relationship.

“Right you are,” he acquiesces, “but neither is anyone else.”

“No one deserves better. We aren’t owed anything.” This he knows from experience. His hand finds yours, and takes the ring back. He holds it between thumb and forefinger, peering at it.

“But you are the one who was put in my path, darling. You’re the one I love. None of those other what ifs matter,” he adds, his hand taking yours and slipping the ring on.

You glance down at the ring and sigh. It is indeed, gorgeous.

“I won’t find someone better. Someone younger. Someone- whatever-“ he waves a hand dismissively.

“One, we’ll find a way for you to live forever. Two-“ and he holds up a hand.

“They will never be you.”

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @spacebarbarianweird @tragedybunny

816 notes · View notes

rorywritesjunk · 6 months

Text

All I dream of lately is how to get you underneath me

It was Buggy's turn to do your makeup.

Rating: R because the girlfriend can't keep her hands to herself or keep her dirty mind from wandering.

Warning: None really, just suggestive themes. Buggy has a bun because I can't help myself, and chest hair. Mentions of nipple piercings on Buggy because why not? And Buggy is a damn tease as well.

A/N: Sequel to the makeup fic. I wrote two versions of this before deciding the second one was more on track with how the original went. It's inspired by a tag from @sporadicthingcollection from the first fic. Title comes from "Closer" by Tegan & Sara.

Part One is here!

The bath had been comforting, warm, and much needed. This time it wasn't Buggy having a bad day and needing some pampering, it was you. Between losing half your groceries from ripped bags to a pot of water boiling over on the stove and making a huge mess, your foot had also been run-over by Cabaji on his unicycle while you were trying to help some of the performers literally find their marks. It wasn't the first time your foot was a victim to the unicycle, but in the chaos of the day, you didn't think to wear shoes and well, the tread-mark shaped cuts on your foot was a reminder to do so next time.

You toweled off and pulled your robe on, wincing as you limped over to the bed to sit. Buggy was sitting at his vanity, only in his underwear as he unwinded from the day as well. His hair was up in a messy bun, his back to you as he wiped away the day's makeup. It was always a fascinating sight to you, and you knew you were lucky to see him in a near vulnerable state like this.

He rummaged through the drawers of the vanity for something before looking up at the mirror and seeing you reflected back at him on the bed. He smirked, the red around his mouth still prominent, making the smirk appear larger than it was.

"See something you like?" He teased. You flushed at being caught staring.

"Always." You shot back as you continued watching him, a thought coming to your mind. It was dumb to ask. You both were going to bed in the next few hours, but you didn't know when a better time to ask would be. "Buggy, can I ask you something?"

"Depends." He replied as he looked back at himself in the mirror. "What is it?"

"Um… could you do my makeup?" You asked. "It's just… I like seeing how you do yours and… thought maybe you'd be able to do mine? But I get it if you don't want to, you know, I don't think I really have the face for it."

He pushed his chair away from the vanity and stood up. He didn't say anything as he turned to face you and crossed the room in just a few steps. You wondered if you offended him somehow by the way he grabbed your face when he approached you, staring down at you before smashing his lips against yours in a surprising kiss. You gasped when he pulled away, head spinning as you wondered what the fuck brought that on.

"Thought you'd never ask." He grinned. "Let's get started."

He went back to the vanity and started rummaging through drawers, piling whatever his findings were on the top. You wondered if you should even bother to change into clothes since you would likely end up naked by the end anyway, it would be less of a hassle to stay in your robe.

He came back over a few minutes later and gestured for you to scoot into the middle of the bed. Oh, he was going to do it on the bed, like how you did for him. You scooted to the middle of the bed and grabbed a pillow to stick under your head before making sure your robe stayed closed. He crawled on top of you, knees on either side of your body as you moved your hands to rest over your chest. He didn't need to pin your hands down because you weren't going to grope him like he did to you every time you did his makeup.

Once he settled on top of you and you realized the view you would have, you suddenly realized that oh, you can see why he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Sure, you had been under him plenty of times, but not like this. For one thing, his thighs were right there. Of course you've been between them, looking up at him from the ground as you sometimes knelt down in front of him while he sat in his captain's chair, his pants undone as your mouth su-

"Babe." He snapped you back to reality. Your face was red. "You good?"

"Y-Yes." You replied as your fingers twitched, needing to be touching something to keep you focused. He seemed to notice and grabbed them, placing them both on top of his thighs, the last place you wanted to be touching right then because you knew them so well. You knew how they felt under you whenever you were straddling his lap, whether it was in bed or his chair, naked, riding him until-

He cleared his throat and you up at him again, turning redder in the face.

"Behave." He teased as he held up two eyeliner pencils near your eyes. He studied them for a moment before tossing one aside and uncapping the other. He then leaned down, face close to your own as he carefully moved the pencil along your bottom eyelid, looking at you but not really. The urge to pull him down for a kiss was there, and you thought the possibility of losing an eye would be worth it if you got to kiss him right then.

He was finished quicker than you thought and kissed your forehead. You realize you didn't specify how to do your makeup. Was he going to do something elaborate or simple? Your fingers tapped nervously against his thighs as you started to wonder if this was a good idea. You had worn makeup a few times in your younger years but it never looked right, so you gave up trying to learn how to do it on yourself.

But damn were you glad to have asked him to do it. It was a different kind of intimacy having him leaning over you, an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a brush in the other as he whispered for you to close your eyes, which you did without hesitation. Your hands stayed on his thighs, moving up and down his thighs slowly, fingers crooking to drag your nails over his skin. You didn't really pay attention to how much you were moving your hands until you felt the fabric of his boxers against your knuckles. You decided to push your luck as you flattened your hands back down and began to slide them up his boxers slowly.

"Babe!" He yelped as he swatted at your hand. "Hey!"

You cracked one eye open and grinned. "Sorry, didn't realize what I was doing."

"Liar." He scolded, looking scandalized by your actions. "I'll sit on you like you do me if you don't watch it."

"Aw, but Buggy!" You whined. "I can't help it!"

"Watch it." He warned as he held the brush threateningly. "Everything else is fair game right now but that. Just wait."

You pouted up at him as you let your hands move to his waist instead, your thumbs running along the waistband of his boxers. He seemed fine with that and you closed your eyes again as he began brushing the eyeshadow over your lids.

It was just hard not to touch him. Before you knew it, you were sliding your hands up his sides, to his chest, your thumbs brushing over his nipples, resisting the urge to tug on the piercings he had there. You felt him flinch when you touched him, so of course you did it again before running your fingers through his chest hair, hands moving up to his neck so your arms could wrap around him. He cleared his throat and you opened your eyes.

"Okay, I gotta keep you still." He said. "You're getting too handsy."

"But Buggyyyyyy!" You pouted up at him. "I can't help it, really. Just… fuck, you should see what I'm seeing right now. You look so damn beautiful like this."

He blushed but said nothing as he set the eyeshadow aside. He reached back to unhook your arms from around his neck, pushing them above your head suddenly and holding them against the mattress. He held them down with one hand while the other moved to your cheek, stroking your flushed skin softly.

"And if you could see how you looked right now, babe, underneath me like this…” He trailed off as he tightened his grip on your wrists, his other hand now sliding down your body, untying your robe, touching your stomach as it moved between your legs. You inhaled sharply, trying to move your legs apart for him, biting back a moan.

And then he pulled his hand back without even touching you.

“Buggy!” You whined. “Why?!”

“We’re not finished yet, babe.” He smirked. “I still have to do your lipstick.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy opla #buggy x you #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x you #one piece #opla buggy #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc

430 notes · View notes

lexyleblancc · 1 year

Text

Something nicer {Sihtric}

Summary: Sihtric takes care of his family during the night of a storm.

Dad!Sihtric x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nothing, unless you fear children and a simp of a man :)

Word count: 699 haha nice

Disclaimer: Not proof read, we die like men here. Also have decided to make this a little series of the TLK men being dads because it warms my heart

There had been rumors of a storm hitting, and Sihtric couldn’t be more happy that he had made it home before it hit. The nights had been getting colder, almost unbearably cold. Furs were piled high on all the beds at night, roaring fires hit in hearths to keep the chill at bay. You were curled into Sihtric’s side, your nose cold and red from being the only part of you visible under the mountain of furs you curled under. The man sucked in a breath as your cold nose made contact with his neck, making him shiver. The door to the bedroom creaked open, making the restless man look up, seeing the small figure of your youngest child standing there, holding a small stuffed bear tightly in her arms.

“Da, it’s so cold.” The little girl cried quietly. Sihtric sighed, sitting up and letting the furs pool around his waist, the cold air hitting his skin.

“It is.” Sihtric agreed, motioning for his youngest to climb onto the bed. “Lay with your mom, keep her nice and warm and I’ll go get the fires going again, okay?” He cooed softly, tugging the furs over the young girl and kissing her forehead. In your sleep you reached out for your daughter, pulling her closer to you and letting out a soft hum. Both Sihtric and your daughter let out small laughs, before the man stood from the bed and found the closest tunic he could reach.

The wooden floors were half frozen, sending shocks through him as he quickly rushed to the living room to stoke the fire before heading down the hallway to the children’s room to stoke that one as well. Sihtric almost cursed the day you insisted on giving your children the larger room with a fireplace in it, but they would always come first. He just prayed to the Gods you would be able to move houses soon, somewhere that was much larger and had a fireplace in every room to keep the family warm.

Your two oldest children were curled together in one bed, shivering under the furs while the man worked quickly to warm them. The middle child, your only son, had abandoned his bed at some point in the night to help keep his older sister warm during the night. Once the fire was roaring once more, Sihtric grabbed some of the extra furs from a chest beside the door and covered the children, kissing both their foreheads before leaving the room quietly.

When he was finally back in his and (Y/N)’s room, he smiled fondly seeing his wife and youngest child sleeping soundly in each other's arms. He slowly slid back under the covers, reaching over your daughter who laid contently between you two, and pulled the both of you closer to his shivering form.

“Where did you go?” You asked, your voice laced with sleep as your eyes opened slowly to look at your husband.

“Just fed the fires.” He told you softly, pushing some of your hair away from your face as he smiled widely. “Gave the children some extra furs to keep them warm until morning.”

“We need more fireplaces to keep this place warm.” You joked quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. The walls would tend to let in drafts during the colder months, taking all the heat away when the family so desperately needed it.

“Or a nicer home.” Sihtric mumbled, his eyes growing heavy with the sleep that so desperately called for him. “I will talk to Uhtred in the morning, see if there is something we can do about the cursed cracks in the walls until then.” He promised, placing a tender kiss on your lips before leaning down and kissing your daughter's head. “Just rest darling, the warmth will flow through the house soon.”

“I’m not the one shivering.” You hummed, placing a warm hand on your husband's arm. He smiled softly, holding you and your daughter tightly as the both of you fell asleep once more.

He would always wake up at night, to stoke the fires that warmed your family, just until he could provide something nicer.

#Sihtric #sihtric x reader #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom imagine #osferth #osferth x reader #Uhtred #uhtred x reader #ragnar x reader #young ragnar #erik x reader #erik thurgilson #finan #finan the agile #finan x reader

1K notes · View notes

roseychains · 2 months

Note

Hiii, can I request Suguru(and whoever else if you’d like to add), with a short reader? Most jjk men are so much taller/larger than me, Toji, Gojo, and Suguru all are each at the very least a foot taller than me (Even Nobara is three inches taller than me 😭)

Smut or fluff, up to you!! Just something for my short readers please 🙏

Short reader with geto ~

A/n: I hear you babe. One of my girlfriends is 4’10 and legally considered a dwarf because of it. I’m 5’7(haters will say I’m 5’5 at most) and tower over her 😭 I decided to only do him cuz of this style of writing. I hope you like!

C/w: fluff, then written by a minor!, smut at the end.

Geto who finds you so endearing. your so much physically smaller than him and still put up such a good fight in sparing, he really admired that

Geto who teases you about your height. Definitely makes cheesy jokes, “how’s the weather down there” typa shit

Geto who used your head as an armrest, but in exchange let’s you rest your head on his shoulder

Geto who cuddled you and can basically wrap up your entire body in his arms, keeps you warm at night

Geto who is protective of you because of how small you are. He wants to be beside you all the time so people don’t see you as an easy target

Geto who lifts you up easily, and will hold you up on his back or shoulders so you can see better at concerts and other events

Geto who doesn’t let go of your hand in crowded places, scared he might lose you

Geto who has you say “please” anytime you ask him to help you get something down

Geto who will hold things high above his own head to make you struggle to grab it

Geto who thinks your so cute trying to play fight him when he’s so much larger

Geto who liked it when you try to be big spoon, it’s like wearing a backpack

Geto who is always so gentle when sparing, even though you are strong he still worry’s that he might hurt you

Geto who leans down to kiss you on your forhead

Geto who will also pick you up for you to kiss him, rather than him bend down

Smut starts here

Geto who can fold you in half so easily, mold your body into any position he wants to

Geto who has a size kink, and gets off on the power dynamic of towering over you

Geto who will press down on your lower stomach to feel himself inside you

Geto who is gentle still, careful not to grip your hips too hard

Geto who loves watching you struggle to get his cock in your mouth

Geto who would pin you against the bed, and have his way with you so easily.

201 notes · View notes

frenchbreadandeggs · 11 months

Text

The Other Variant of Her

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

summary: Out of nowhere, Gwen Stacy appeared on your Earth, inviting you to the Spider Society in Nueva York. As you reluctantly took her offer, you were shown the beauty of every spider person around HQ. Meeting the founder of the group, Miguel O’Hara. You never knew him, but it seems that he does.

gn!reader, also a spider person

cw. angst, soon.

After I watched ATSV, saw Miguel, I was like—why not make it more sadder? Also made this while I'm fucking writing a travel log for our project, action paper, and capstone. I SWEAR my obsession on writing fanfictions never ends. Gotta go so I can study for finals and defense this week. This was supposed to be a full fic and not by chapters but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Shit!”

You dodge at a car that was thrown in your way, quickly swinging yourself using your web towards a building to land on. As usual you do your superhero things around Kings, York New, beating up villains and chasing down thieves and criminals. But you sure do that this Doctor Octopus you’re fighting isn’t yours, you felt like it was not the doctor that kept chasing you down.

“Come back here you—!” he somehow glitched, a series of colors switched with his body for a split second before Doc Ock shrieked as the grip of his talons of his mechanical tentacles loosened on the blue brick walls, his body now falling.

Quickly, you shot a web on his chest, shooting another one to hold yourself from sliding towards the end of the building as you tried to pull Doc Ock. When he reached the top of the building, you grabbed him by the collar and dragged him on the concrete floor. Not wanting to risk him to go rampage again and destroy half of the city, you wrapped him up with webs, securing his mechanical tentacles on the wall.

He grunted, still recovering from his unusual glitching. You’re going to ask Doctor Strange about this later.

As you were going to bring Doc Ock to the wizard, a person stood in your way—or more like jumped out of nowhere and blocked your way. They wore a white spider suit with pink and black accents.

“Woah,” startled, you backed up, covering the still recovering Doc Ock, “I didn’t know there’s a comic con today—”

You were stopped by a strange tingling at the back of your head, you have spider senses, but this was different.

“Wha—don’t tell me you’re?”

“Holy—you look so cool!”

“What—”

“I’m Gwen Stacy, you are?” she reached her hand towards you after she took her mask off. Blonde short hair with pink dip-dye, the side of her head was shaved, blue eyes and eyebrow piercing. She seemed harmless even though you are still skeptical, but your guts said she is not a problem—and your gut is always right.

“SpiderSlinger.” you introduced yourself, taking Gwen’s hand and shaking it.

“So,” you started, “This is not a joke alright? Is there any cosplay going on somewhere here?”

She snorted, like what you said made no sense to her.

“No, I’m from another universe—I take care of anomalies like that Doc Ock you have there.” she pointed at your back, you looked back to see Doc Ock glitching.

You were not closed about the multiverse existing as Doctor Strange has already mentioned this to you. Though you did not expect for a person outside your universe to come and visit—let alone take care of a person who is not supposed to be in your world.

You looked at her, tilting your head at the side as you grabbed Doc Ock using your web shooter and slung him on your shoulders, unbothered by his weight. Lifts were helpful for you, “By yourself?”

Not too long you tagged along with Gwen, she has explained to you that she is in an elite group called Spider Society where they keep the multiverse from any threats and prevent it from collapsing. Very ambitious you think, the size of the multiverse was incomparable to your thoughts, knowing it is larger than what some people might think. On your way to HQ Gwen mentioned to you, she received a call from someone who’s named ‘Jessica Drew’. You minded your own business when Gwen started to respond to her watch with hushed words, you might have guessed that they were arguing. Gwen sounded pleading all of a sudden.

“Are you sure I’m allowed to go with you?” you asked her after she ended her call. Gwen nodded at you, her head seems like it is going to fall off her neck if she does not stop.

“Absolutely, I already notified them that you’re coming with me.” she handed you a blue wristband, “Here, to keep you from glitching.”

You took the wristband from her and wore it, “Thanks…?”

You have not experienced the ‘glitching’ she was telling you, so it might’ve been like Doc Ock’s situation earlier. Gwen tapped on her watch before a portal appeared in front of you. Your eyes widened in amazement, multiple neon-orange hexagons stood up from the dark but sparkling void—some looked like singular strands of web stretched across the portal, forming in some kind of path to who Spiderperson knows where.

“You got to do this?” Doc Ock still hanging on your shoulder, you pointed at the portal that was formed by Gwen’s watch.

Gwen laughed, smiling at you, not realizing she was showing her gap teeth, “Yeah, all the time.”

“Sick,” you said, still gaped at the portal, “should I…?” you looked at the Doc Ock on your shoulder then to Gwen.

“Oh, yeah definitely.”

With a lift, you pushed Doc Ock inside the portal, his unconscious body sucked into the portal’s abyss. Gwen then looked at you with a reassuring nod and went into the portal, following Doc Ock. You stared at the portal for a while, the city is fine for now since there were no attacks other than Ock—though you were unsure if this was the right idea.

You bit your lip.

“Fuck it she already announced my arrival, might as well go in now.”

Biting back the hesitation of not going in, you leaped into the portal leaving your worries for your city and jumped into the unknown.

You were thrown on the floor face flat on the smooth pavement, you grunted, muffling ‘I’m fine’ even though you know no one would care less. Surprisingly a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you up to your feet.

“Thanks,” you said, patting the dust off your spider suit. You looked at the scenery around you.

And holy shit you could not believe your eyes at what you are looking at right now. Buildings were everywhere and each building had a bridge attached and led to another building. There were multiple pillars sticking out and attached on each building. That did not amazed you though, it was the massive fucking spiderpeople lounging at the area you are right now.

Not even a hundred were here. It might be thousands of different spider people and you’re one of them. You stared, still in shock at how much spider people are with you here. Taking a hold of Gwen, you gripped both of her shoulders and shook her.

“This is amazing…” you grinned at her, she mirrored yours.

Suddenly, you felt like you were forgetting someone.

Realization hits you, with high alert you asked Gwen, “Where’s Doc Ock?”

“I took care of him,” she placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring look.

“Ok,” you took a relaxed exhale, “Well what you showed me was super amazing—very fucking cool—now I want to join—well if that is fine, it looks like y’all won’t be having understaffing for a long time though.”

“Oh—dang, then you should meet Mi—”

“Ooo who’s the newbie here Gwen?”

A distinct voice captured your attention, looking at your back you saw two spider people walking towards you and Gwen.

Pavitr Prabhakar and Hobie Browe were their names given to you in exchange for your Spider name. They were fun to be with, Hobie and Pavitr's shenanigans immediately started right after they met you. You met other spider people, them greeting you back gave you a tingling feeling inside you—maybe it's the fact that they are cool and decided to notice you.

Not for too long Pav said his goodbyes and went back to his Earth while Hobie tagged along when Gwen is guiding you to this ‘Miguel O’Hara’ person. She told you that he was the founder of Spider Society and may or may not have severe anger issues.

“The guy has FANGS?” you looked at Gwen with disbelief.

“Yup, heard that it paralyzes anyone he bites with it—with venom I suppose—obviously.”

She then turns at you, “Alright, we’ll be entering his office. I just hope he isn’t pissed off.”

“He is alway pissed, what do you mean?” Hobie interjected.

“You guys are scaring me—should I like—give him something so he won’t do…?” you wiggled your fingers, hoping they understand what you mean. Hobie just snorts, Gwen shakes her head and takes a grab of your wrists and pulls you with her.

“No, no need.”

The three of you entered a blue dimmed room. Hobie sat on one of the metal seats, watching the scene slowly unfold in front of him. There was a floating platform just above you and Gwen, both of you stood still. If you squint just a little there are yellow-orange colored monitors, cool, you thought, your world’s technology was below this Nueva York’s tech. There on the platform was a man’s back, broad shoulders and messy hair.

You are a patient person, but the platform was painfully slow.

Finally, the platform reached the floor, he did not turn around or anything but continued working on his devices.

“So this is the spider person you are talking about, Gwen?” he spoke with a husky voice. His attention was still on the screens, dragging his fingers on them as he spoke with Gwen.

“Yeah, they’re from Earth-14215. When I came there, they already took care of the anomaly.”

With a blink he was already in front of you, his body looming over you like a vulture. If you were not intimidated by him, you would admire the structure of his face—everything about him.

His eyes rounded on you, inspecting you like you were prey. There was something bugging you, he felt…something that you could not comprehend.

His intense stare at you made you feel like you needed to remove your mask, so you did. Your hair looked perfectly fine even though you wore a tight mask. Looking at him with a toothy grin, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

At a moment you saw a glimpse of Miguel’s face in shock before turning his back at you. Did you scare him? Or maybe disappoint him? You sure hope not. You watched him walking back to his monitor, he called for someone named Lyla, in which in response a yellow woman appeared in thin air. He spoke to her, though you could not hear them talking.

Not knowing what to do, you turned to Gwen in which she just shrugged—not expecting the lack of emotion from Miguel. You walked towards Hobie and sat next to him, still amazed at him and all of those inconsistent art he has, he did tell you he does not believe in consistency.

You and Hobie started talking to each other, Gwen butting in afterwards. Hobie started talking about the consequence of industrial revolution, him not liking the prime minister—whom you do not know, another consequence about capitalism and it went on and on.

“Hey,” Miguel called, the three of you looking at him at the same time, “No—no the new one.”

You stood up and walked towards him, he tossed you something. You caught it, it looks like a watch of some sorts, similar to Gwen and Hobie and the other spider people have.

“That’s a goober—”

“A gizmo.” Lyla interrupted

“Whatever,” he tries to shoo the AI away from him but Lyla glitches to another place away from him, “that gadget gives you the ability to jump to a different universe. That’s it, I’ll give you instructions for your first mission…Welcome to the club.” he stared at you for a while, a kind of longing feeling from him vibed out you just shrugged it.

“Thanks!...Boss?”

He shook his head, then walked away from you, “Don’t call me that, it’s weird.”

“Huh, alright then. I’ll call you Miguel if that is fine with you.”

He did not respond.

Not bothered by his lack of response, you ran back to Gwen and Hobie, waving the ‘goober’ in your hand. Gwen smiled whilst Hobie greeted you ‘welcome to the spidey club’, it was never really your intention to join but it seems that you got in.

You’ll wait for the first mission Miguel will send you.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderverse #ATSV

699 notes · View notes

petitemistletoe · 1 year

Note

Hi i was wondering if you could write something for James Potter x fem!reader already in a relationship. Maybe they’re at a party and some guy makes her uncomfortable and won’t leave her alone and it’s just James being the protective bf he is.

If not don’t worry!!! xx

Title: Protection Charm

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual assault/harassment, eventual smut

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Y'all are real lucky that I've been in a marauders era and have been reading ATYD. Read ATYD here! Feel free to request more from this era!

“But why do I have to go this party?” Remus whined as he took a bite of his eggs.

“Moony! It’s your birthday party!” Sirius said, looking completely affronted that Remus would ever suggest such a thing.

“Come on, Remus! We went through all the trouble planning it and inviting everyone and-” James started but Remus cut him off.

“Wait a minute,” Remus held his hand up and looked at his friends sitting in front of him, “who exactly did you invite?”

“Well…everyone! You’re very popular, Moony.” Peter said with a grin. Remus looked like he was going to blow him top sooner rather than later and you thread your hand through Remus’s arm.

“What would you like to do for your birthday, Remus?” You asked.

“Get drunk with you lot,” he shrugged.

“Isn’t that what we’re going to do at the party?” Sirius threaded his fingers through his hair and looked at Remus had just been dropped from space.

“I mean just with us!” Remus shook his head, tearing a piece of toast in half and handing you the bigger piece.

“How’s this, Remus? The party is happening whether you like it or not so let’s get really pissed tonight and next weekend we can get even more pissed at Hogsmeade.” You suggested, dodging the bigger piece, grabbing the smaller one and spreading a bit of marmalade on it.

“Fine. But I’m not blowing out any candles.” Remus said, draining his tea and standing up.

“Where are you off to?” James asked.

“Have to turn in an essay to Binns. Told him I’d get it to him first thing in the morning.”

“See you later, Remus,” you called to the lanky marauder.

“Cheers love,” Remus gave you a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing from the great hall.

“Now hold on a second,” Sirius started and you only knew that he’d begin with the dramatics, “why on Earth does Moony get to kiss your girlfriend?” Sirius turned his head sharply to face James.

“I’m a person!” You protested lightly.

“Remus is like her older brother. I also don’t control what she does,” James shrugged, moving closer to you so he could put his arm around you.

“So can I kiss her?” Sirius asked James.

“Still a person!” You rolled your eyes.

“No. Remus is an older brother. You’re a dog, Sirius.” James rolled his eyes and tightened his arm around you.

“Are you jealous, Mr. Potter?” You said with mock shock.

“Not jealous, just making sure you don’t get fleas from Padfoot.” James laughed, dodging the piece of bacon that Sirius had flung at James’s head.

Classes always seemed to take longer when a marauder’s party was scheduled to follow. You promised that you and Remus could have a little dinner just the two of you so you snuck off to Hogsmeade for a quick dinner of pub food and butterbeer at the three broomsticks before the party.

“Listen I know you said you wouldn’t blow out any candles but,” you pulled out a cupcake with a single candle in the middle.

“God I’m glad James is dating you,” Remus said, blowing out the candle and cutting the cupcake in half. He handed the larger half to you, which you refused because there was no way you were going to allow Remus to have the smaller half of a cupcake on his own birthday.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you said with a grin.

“Don’t tell the boys but if you and James ever break up, I’m on your side.” Remus smiled. You walked back to the Gryffindor common room with Remus’s arm around your shoulders. The common room erupted with cheers with the guest of honor entered and Remus sent you a bewildered look.

“Firewhiskey?” You asked him.

“Definitely,” he nodded as Mary, Lily, and Marlene cornered him and started peppering him with ‘birthday pecks’. You could see James and Sirius playing beer pong and by the sound of their cheers it seemed like they were winning. You poured Remus a strong glass of firewhiskey and then a glass for yourself when you felt a hand on the small of your back. You knew Remus was still cornered by the girls, you could hear James and Sirius at the pong table, and you could see Peter sneaking off with some girl in Hufflepuff. So who’s hand was on your back? You turned to see an attractive seventh year Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy, grin down at you.

“Hi darling, who’s the other drink for?”

“Hi Lucius,” you shrugged Lucius’s hand off and stepped away so you were facing him, “the other drink is for Remus.”

“Oh of course, the man of the hour,” Lucius sounded like he was making his voice extra sultry.

“Surprised to see you here. Didn’t think you were a fan of Gryffindor parties.” You said cautiously.

“I’d never turn down an opportunity to see you, love. I do have a question for you, though.” Lucius’s finger hooked under your chin so you made eye contact with him.

“Alright?”

“Are you dating Lupin?”

“Remus? Oh no-”

“Excellent,” Lucius leaned down and kissed you rather forcefully. You put your hands on his chest and pushed him back.

“Lucius. I’m dating James,” you didn’t want to make a scene but Lucius’s grip on your arms was pretty tight and he gave no indication that he was going to let go. You glanced back at James but he was currently absorbed in making Sirius drink from one of those funnels that Mary had brought back from the muggle world.

“I don’t see him around.” Lucius said, leaning his head down to kiss you again. His lips were against yours but you didn’t kiss him back.

“Let me go Lucius, I’m serious,” you said, trying to pull yourself away.

“Come on now, don’t be a bitch,” Lucius said, his grip tight on your wrists. You were beginning to panic when you felt Lucius pull away from you. You looked up in time to see James punch Lucius right in the jaw.

“What the fuck, Potter?” Lucius said, holding his jaw with one hand and pulling out his wand with the other.

“Get away from her, Malfoy. Get out of Gryffindor tower before I hex you,” James said, positioning himself in front of you.

“Not if I hex you first,” Lucius said, hissing out a curse. James was ready with his own but Remus yelled,

“Expelliarmus!” Remus snatched both James and Lucius’s wands, “Now you two are making me exercise my prefect duties on my own birthday. Detention for you both. Malfoy get the fuck out of here.”

“Fuck off, Lupin.” Malfoy said, clearly not thrilled at the idea of returning to the dungeons with a bruised ego and a bruised jaw.

Peter and Sirius were struggling to hold James back and you heard Sirius hiss at his brother Regulus,

“If you’ve ever done anything good for me ever in your life you will get Malfoy out of here right now.”

Regulus was not going to disagree and along with a few other Slytherins, they hauled Malfoy out of Gryffindor tower.

“Let’s do a round of shots!” Sirius said with a grin. He had no intention of letting the party halt because of some interhouse drama. James turned and wrapped you in his arms,

“Are you okay?”

“Let’s get out of here.” You said shakily. James nodded and you both slipped out of Gryffindor tower. James’s wand was raised just in case you ran into Malfoy again but it seemed that Regulus had made sure that Malfoy didn’t linger. He lead you to the astronomy tower where you sat on the edge with your legs dangling and shared a cigarette.

The energy between you was uneasy, uncomfortable. James was obviously still upset with Malfoy but was trying to keep calm for you. You were still processing Malfoy’s disgusting behavior. You couldn’t help yourself, though, and you started to laugh. Little chuckles at first but then full belly laughs and finally you were doubled over trying to catch your breath as James stared at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He finally asked, after pulling you by the forearm after you almost toppled over the edge of the tower which only made you laugh harder.

“You were jealous,” you giggled, your hands clasped firmly over your mouth.

“I-” James started but he too started to see the humor in it and he started to laugh too.

“How’s your hand?” You asked, picking up James’s left hand and examining his knuckles. There were bluish bruises forming already and you knew he’d probably need to go to the hospital wing in the morning.

“It’s fine. Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. You let out a weak chuckle and nodded.

“Yeah. Thank you for…you know.” You said with a smile.

“Of course, love. I’ll always be here for you,” James practically whispered. You brought his bruised knuckles up to your lips and kissed them lightly. You kissed around his hand and then on the sides of his fingers and then you slid one of James’s long fingers into your mouth. James took in a sharp breath and watched you, mesmerized, as you slid your tongue around his digits. James let out a strangled moan when he saw how deep his fingers stretched down your throat. You released his fingers softly and looked up at him with doe eyes. James’s eyes were lust blown and he was looking at you while breathing very hard.

“Come here,” he pulled you towards him and kissed you hard, his hands knotted in your hair as he practically consumed you. He was starving and you were his last meal. He kissed down your jaw and down your neck before coming back up to your lips.

“We should have sex,” you panted. James nodded.

“Yeah definitely.”

“I don’t think I can make it back to the dormitory,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t either.”

“You got an Outstanding in transfiguration right?”

“Yeah,” James looked at you like you had grown another head for talking about school at a time like this.

“Then transfigure these desks into a bed.” You said, your fingers fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Oh! Yeah, fuck…yeah.” James nodded, throwing his sweater somewhere across the room. He was fumbling in his pockets for his wand and you sunk to your knees, pulling his wand out of his pocket and handing it to him before pulling his cock out of his underwear and putting it in your mouth.

“Oh my god,” James gasped, one hand on the brick wall of the tower. You let the head of James’s cock brush the back of your throat before you made eye contact with him and pulled away.

“James, the bed,” you grinned before leaning down and taking one of his balls in your mouth while jerking him off.

“In my defense,” he said in a strained voice, “it’s a little hard to focus.” James was able to transfigure the desks into some sort of futon before letting out a strangled moan and saying “please stop before I cum in your mouth.”

You stood up and took your shirt and bra and dusted your knees off before reclining back on the futon.

“Are you going to fuck me?” You asked, spreading your legs and pulling down your underwear. James watched with pure shock and adoration as you let your panties dangle on an outstretched foot before letting it drop to the ground.

“Yes, yes! Absolutely.” James nodded, diving onto the futon and burying his face in your pussy. His lips immediately attached to your clit as he maneuvered three fingers inside you. James kissed you deeply before you broke away from his lips and moaned into his open mouth.

“Fuck, don’t stop I’m going to cum.” You panted. James grinned and if you had been able to open your eyes you would’ve seen how embarrassingly fogged up James’s glasses were. He was also rutting against the edge of the futon and moaning into your own mouth. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist as you rode his hand into your orgasm. You barely had a moment to come down from it before James was fully ripping your skirt off and pushing himself inside of you.

“I learned-” James could barely get two words out through his moans and you had to take a minute to wipe the inside of his glasses so you could actually see his eyes, “-a charm hold on a minute.” James stayed inside you as he reached over your head for his wand again. He mumbled something and pointed his wand at one of the crystal balls. The ball shot itself into James’s outstretched hand and transformed into a rapidly vibrating clitoral stimulator. James pressed it against your clit and you dug your nails into his bicep.

“Where on earth did you learn a charm like that?” You gasped, feeling a second orgasm coming on.

“Moony is a genius,” James said, before practically screaming, “I’m going to cum!”

You could nod as you came, nearly sobbing and moaning. James came too, moaning loudly and resting his forehead against yours. You pushed the vibrator away and took a few minutes to breathe laying back while letting James rest his head on your chest.

“So wait a second,” you said once you and James were able to restore your heart rates to a normal BPM.

“What is it?” James looked adorably goofy with his glasses all fogged up again and you took them off and wiped them.

“What do you mean Remus taught you that charm?”

“He’s a man of many talents,” James said with a shrug.

“He deserves a much better birthday party then.”

#James potter #James potter x reader #James potter x reader smut #James potter x reader angst #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #Marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #petter pettigrew #marauders x reader #marauders era #all the young dudes #atyd marauders

1K notes · View notes

sunfyresrider · 9 months

Text

Festering Desire

Jake Sully X Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Summary: After witnessing something you were not meant to see a new emotion began building inside you. It plagued your dreams, your thoughts and every part of your life until it reached a boiling point. Tags: Minor description of injury, simping?, bad at communicating, wet dreams, minor jealously, confessions, neural link, smut, daddy-ish kink, p n v intercourse. Author’s Note: This could have really benefitted from a Jake POV but I am so exhausted lately I couldn’t. Also, my smut definitely needs improvement, but I can/will improve that when I am not half asleep.

It was past twilight when you pulled yourself out of the river and began the long walk home. You escaped here for tranquility and a place to clear your head of unwanted thoughts. The Olo'eyktan, Jake Sully, had pretty much banned you from traveling after eclipse along with several other members of the clan, his children to be more specific.

He explained it as a safety precaution since the sky people had returned but they rarely ever struck after the moons emerged. Your sister, Käani, said it was because you got too lost in your head and were a safety hazard yourself. You’ll admit you were cursed with clumsiness and the ability to completely forget your surroundings, but you’ve lived here all your life, and nothing ever happens after eclipse anyways.

You wrapped your loincloth around yourself, basking in the time you spent alone. The bioluminescent plants beneath the water's surface always brightened the night so you never had to fear the dark. The forest was filled with noise every eclipse, animals much preferred to roam in the comfort of darkness. You were wrapped in a shroud of warmth as you skipped your way home, becoming distracted by various plants all around you. Your home was nothing short of stimulating, always something beautiful to look at or to play with.

A Kenten laid on a large plant, blissfully unaware of your presence. You snuck up behind it, waiting for the proper time to pounce. Slowly, it veered its head in your direction, gazing at you cautiously. Your tail began swishing through the air excitedly, waiting for it to do the thing. The kenten blinked slowly before you gently blew air towards it. It’s fans spread almost immediately, flying into the air in a circle and eliciting giggles from you.

You began to chase it deeper into the woods, forgetting about what might be waiting for you. It led you all the way into a part where the bioluminescent barely shined and the original animal noises you heard were hushed. Its fans retracted and it disappeared into a nearby tree, leaving you mildly disappointed. You let out a deep sigh, your ears falling flat against your head at the loss of it.

Your feet began to turn to walk back home, for real this time. Until you heard a twig snap in the distance, your ears shot up alerting you to a nearby noise. It was far away from where you were, but it faintly sounded like an animal whimpering in pain. It made your heart ache hearing such noises, you knew you should ignore it and forget but it was impossible. You slowly crept towards the noise; in case a larger animal was feasting on it.

The closer you got to where the sound originated the more Na’vi-eaque it sounded. A woman moaning in pain to be more precise. One thing Jake Sully taught everyone was no man left behind and that involved ones left in the eerie part of the forest too. You saw a faint light from the corner of your eye, quickly you turned to locate its origin. The thing you saw was beyond words, leaving you had frozen in place. Your feet planted themselves firmly into the ground, your eyes nearly popping out of your skull.

The Olo'eyktan had a woman’s legs wrapped around him, thrusting into her at an intense speed. It felt as if your skin was set ablaze, a swirling sensation beginning to form in your gut. Your mouth hung agape at the sight, shocked by what you were witnessing for the first time. You blinked once, twice, before backing away and stepping directly on a branch. The sound echoing through the once quiet area.

As if on cue she spotted you, her eyes locking onto yours, and letting out a choked yelp to signal your presence. It shocked you out of your daze, fear shooting through you as he began to turn. You took off, sprinting in the direction of your tent and avoiding any further unwanted interactions. At several points you felt sharp plants cutting you as you made your ways towards your bed, but it did not matter. All you could think about was escaping Jake before he knew you saw anything.

Once you arrived you practically lunged onto your tent, securing the flap that granted you privacy from the outside world. You nervously paced around your room, panting from all the energy you had excreted. You shook your head violently, trying to banish the image from your mind entirely. The sounds of footsteps approaching your tent made you dive onto your mat, curling up into a ball and pretending to sleep.

You tried to steady your breath, burying your face in your arms so they couldn’t see you. The flap opened silently, you felt someone peer in before slipping away just as quickly. You prayed to Ewya it was just Käani making sure you arrived in one piece.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to forget what you had seen and letting sleep take you away. Since his mate had died, he had become a bit of a man-whore. Instead of accepting the emotional comfort he so badly needed, Jake fucked his way through many women of the clan. Mainly other widows as they understood each other's stance. Käani, who understood the ways of sky demons better explained they were relationships without strings attached.

Käani knew many things. She taught you everything you knew, purposefully leaving out select details. Unlike humans, information about sex was not as easily accessible. A person would have to ask another who had experienced it what happened and that was far out of your comfort zone. It would be incredibly awkward, not to mention it made you look clueless.

She did tell you enough, the different appendages, what goes where, and most importantly how to make tsaheylu with your future husband but you stopped asking her questions there. How exactly everything was performed was lost on you, though you hoped you would simply figure it out in the heat of the moment. Except, now you knew exactly what to expect from intimacy with someone else.

༺♡༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺♡༻

There was a warm sensation in between your legs. The feeling of something hard entering an area you never gave much attention to. Your core felt as if it was tingling, causing your body to squeeze around something. You grasped at their arm on instinct, pulling them closer to you. An appendage moved in circles around your clit, eliciting sensations you had never felt before. His mouth moved to suckle at your neck, pulling soft moans out of you. You practically melted into him, wrapping your legs around his warm body and pulling him closer. They were large, so much larger than you, “babygirl,” he whispered into your ear. You lazily opened your eyes, looking up to see who was bringing you such pleasure...

... "Jake?"

Your body jolted awake, your eyes scanning for any intruders. They landed on Käani, who in your tired state looked blue, just like Jake.

“Ahhh! She shouted back, “Ahhh!” Her voice ripped you out of your nightmare, you narrowed your eyes at her. “What are you doing here?!” She threw her arms up in the air as a response, “Why are you screaming at me?!” You settled down, pulling your legs up to your chest in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. You winced as an ache spread through you, your eyes peered down at your body which was covered in bruises, small cuts and dried blood.

“I was trying to prepare some balm for all your wounds before you decided to shout.” Your cheeks burned bright as you remembered last night, you hadn’t even noticed the damage you had done to yourself whilst fleeing the scene. “Oh, sorry tsmuke…” She scooted closer to you, huffing as she pulled your legs towards her and slapped on healing cream to your injuries. Käani was judging you, her eyes boring into you as she tried to decipher what happened.

“Should I ask or assume you are living up to the name of self-safety hazard?” You kicked her in reply, making her chuckle quietly at your expense. For a moment you tried to keep your lips sealed, harboring his secret for him. But your sister was nothing if not persistent and if she didn’t get it from you now, she inevitably would later. “I saw Jake with a woman last night.” Her eyes shot open, forehead wrinkles gracing her forehead as she stared at you. “No shit! Were they…?”

You nodded your head silently in reply, watching her mouth open wide as she stared at you in shock. Käani slapped your leg, “who was it?! Don’t tell me it was Ninat.” You rolled your eyes, the drama between Ninat and your sister was never ending. Both of them were in a constant quiet battle to be the best singer of the clan… Käani, having youth on her side, was winning by a vast majority. “No, I couldn’t tell who and I don’t want to discuss it any further.” She raised her eyes at your reaction, “You’re jealoussss.” Käani shoved your arm suggestively, biting her lip trying to refrain from laughing. “I am not!”

She leaned in, pretending to sniff the air. “I can smell it on you! You’re jealous he’s not showing you that type of attention, huh?” You swatted her hand away, “You’re so gross! It is not like that.” A faux pout formed on her lips, her hands clasping her heart. “Aw you’ll hurt Jake’s feelings if he hears you say that.” That made your ears perk up, your tail beginning to sway behind you.“What do you mean by that?” A sly smirk crept its way onto your sister's face, you hated when she got that look. You could practically hear her thoughts,‘I know something that you don’t know’.

“You know Jake always gives you extra attention during training and his hands always linger on you longer than normal. He practically watches your every move when you're in his line of sight and don’t get me started on how overprotective of you he has become.” That made you slump back against your tent, thoughts whirling around your head like a storm. “Jake probably pretends all those girls are you.”

Käani was like a devil whispering in your ear, encouraging thoughts you should not be having about your Olo'eyktan. It was impossible for him to fancy you, not in the same way he loved his late wife anyways. Not only that, but you were also younger than him by a noticeable amount. But it did nothing to ease the thing stirring within you, a strange desire beginning to form that you had never felt before.

You were scared of the unfamiliar feelings boiling inside you, the thoughts you had about a man who had already mated once and had children! They were only thoughts, as long as you did not act upon them then you were safe, you told yourself. She patted your leg, scooting backwards to the exit, "I see I have lost you,” Käani stood up, stretching her arms and gathering her things. “I’ll leave you be for now but don’t even try to skip out on the celebration tonight.” You nodded your head silently as she strided out of your tent as if she owned the place.

༺♡༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺♡༻

The camp was alive with music from Ewya, bonfires setting the forest alight with their glow. You held tightly onto Käani’s hand as she pulled you through the crowd, fighting for a log to sit on. You tried to avoid the nervous pit forming in your stomach, Jake was here somewhere.

You didn’t have the heart to face him, spending the entire day safely tucked away in your room. Times like this were rare, especially since the sky people came back. The entire clan was happy, carefree as they celebrated. You should be feeling the same, enjoying the night for what it was but you could not. Your heart ached, knowing the reason why, a lump forming in your throat.

Whereas you were on a mission to avoid someone, your sister was actively hunting men down. Atan was her current best pick for you, a strong warrior with excellent beading skills. When you were younger you used to have a bit of a crush on him, but feelings change like time. Käani heartedly disagreed, scanning the crowd for any sign of him. Whilst she continued singing praises about him in your ear, your eyes locked onto a familiar face.

Jake Sully was watching you.

You swallowed hard, unable to look away from his dark eyes. It felt as if he was staring through you, deep down you wished you could be invisible. He looked especially handsome tonight, his skin glowing with a sheen of sweat across it. His long dark hair was braided neatly behind his head, the braids complimenting his strong features. He smiled politely, his eyes twinkling. Your mind floated back to your dream, the way his lips felt against your neck and the feeling of his body pressed against you.

You looked away quickly, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. Your ears flattened against your head, that was a wildly inappropriate thought to have at this moment or any moment for that matter. Käani turned her attention towards you, raising an eyebrow at you and following your gaze. "Lover boy is looking at you, tsmuke.” You nudge your sister with your elbow, huffing, "shut up."

She giggled to herself, leaning in close as your eyes focused on the ground, “And he’s coming this way!” Your eyes snapped up, staring at her in disbelief. Before you could protest, or attempt to make a mistake, he was standing right in front of you. Käani quickly stood up to make a place for him, she nodded her in respect, silently reminding you of his position. "Sir." Jake happily nodded back, taking his place behind you and watching your sister walk away before he spoke.

“You didn’t join us for breakfast this morning or show up to training.” His eyes gazed at you quizzingly, an incredulous look plastered on his face. You lifted your leg, showcasing the marks on it without thinking of the implications. “I hurt it last night, Käani demanded I rest.”

“Last night?” The memory flashed back in your mind ripping you out of your drunken stupor. You scramble your words together, speaking fast. “Not after eclipse… I swear.” His face softened as he looked at your body, his fingers gently tracing a cut near your knee. He felt so warm, a strange feeling rose in you, causing you to shiver. You blinked slowly, praying to Ewya he didn't notice. "You need to take better care of yourself, what if this had been more serious?”

You weren't sure if he was scolding you or sincerely worried, both options made you nervous. You mumbled, “sorry, Jake.” His fingers slowly pulled away from your skin, creating a cool void you were beginning to hate.“Are you too injured to dance with me?” His eyes seemed to glimmer in the firelight, a stupid grin lighting up his face. The way his lips curved had you memorized, your eyes glued to them. It was impossible to say no, you nodded your head excitedly.

You followed behind him as he led you through the crowd, weaving between the many bodies. He gently tugged you closer to him as you danced, guiding you around each other and pressing against one another. You couldn't help but notice how strong he felt against you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he moved to the beat. Käani’s words echoed through your head ‘lover boy’ and ‘he imagines those girls are you’ as you danced with him.

You peered up at him, admiring the way his lips parted as he took a deep breath. The way his eyes lit up and pupils dilated when he stared at you. A burning desire began to bubble up inside of you, a feeling you had never experienced before. It was like Ewya herself was pouring her fire inside of you. You lowered your gaze to your feet, suddenly embarrassed about your feelings towards him. "You seem flustered today,” his fingers brushed your cheek, tipping your chin back up to look at him. "What's the matter, baby girl?"

You dared to look him in his eyes, feeling the camp starting to spin around you. “I- I am not,” you fumbled your words. He watched you for a moment, a Cheshire grin spreading across his, making your heart stop. "Oh really?" His body inched closer to yours, your heartbeat picking up speed with each passing second. You nearly choked on air, you wanted to say something witty but all that came out of your mouth were a series of broken words. "I, uh... Uh-" a new wave of nervousness washed over you. Jake took another step closer, his body pressed up against yours, his hand holding your waist tightly.

“Jake! Ma’Olo'eyktan,” the shrill voice of none other than Ninat pierced your ear lobes. You snapped out of it quickly, pulling away from Jake as if you were burned. He cleared his throat, forcing a polite smile as she quickly approached. "Ninat, is everything okay?" Her eyes focused on you for a moment, an unpleasant scowl plastered on her face. "The hunters request your presence immediately. They want to celebrate your recent achievements.”

Jake nodded his head, "I'll be right there." She left without another word; you turned your attention back to Jake who seemed annoyed by her interruption. "I’m going to find Käani.” He gave you a faint smile, "I'll find you once I'm done with this.” You didn’t give a proper goodbye, instead quickly turning around and making your way through the crowd, bumping into people as you tried to escape.

༺♡༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺♡༻

You did not return to the celebration or participate in anything that may involve Jake the next few days. Jake had been giving you an alarming amount of space, though his attempts to communicate were all futile at best. Käani was greatly disappointed with it all, constantly reminding you that it was your time to shine.

The past several nights you could not escape the dreams that invaded your mind at night. Your peace was sorely disrupted as the thoughts consumed you at every waking moment. If his head was not between your legs, then he was inside of you. If Jake was not on top of you, he was beside whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Sometimes the dreams weren’t of sexual nature at all, which scared you the most. You would be doing mundane things with him like flying, playing with the children or simply laughing enjoying each other’s presence.

It further proved what you were feeling was not hormonal nor would it go away so easily. You tried to remind yourself he was widowed; you were just a kid to him but there was always that seed of hope.

The combination of Jake merely existing and Käani’s constant presence was driving you to insanity. You couldn’t imagine how he would react if he ever found out what was going through your mind. Which is why tonight, you decided to escape to what remained of the spirit tree. You hoped to find solace in a place where Ewya was so prominent. The great mother does not take sides and she does not involve herself in things so trivial. You still hoped this place would give you something to ease your mind.

You sat in front of the tree, bowing your head to show your respects. For a moment, there was silence. You opened your eyes and stared at the light in front of you, watching the tendrils dance around each other. Then you heard the sounds of leaves cracking beneath someone’s soles. “She’s alive,” You didn’t have to gaze at him to see the grin creeping onto his face. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as he took a seat beside you, he peered into the sky. "I was wondering when I would see you again.” You continued staring at the tree in front of you, “You know where to find me.”

Jake let out a disappointed breath, knowing the expression on his face faltered. "Have I done something to upset you?" You let out a shaky breath, "it’s not your fault." He watched you closely, you felt like he could see right through you, peeling back each layer and finding the deepest secret you were hiding. Your eyes slowly moved towards him, "Jake... I," your voice trailed off, searching for the right words to say. You took a deep breath, letting the air slowly escape your lips. "Do you like me," the words tumbled out, leaving you in a state of vulnerability.

You glanced up at him, you were met with a soft smile, a strange twinkle in his eyes. "Of course, I like you," he replied so quickly you weren't sure what to do next. Your mind scrambled, trying to formulate a proper response. "I don't mean as a friend.” He leaned in closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as his eyes bored into yours. "As what?" You were painfully aware of his every movement, the warmth of his hand and the smell of the herbs he was wearing today.

“More,” you spoke quietly, not wanting to hear the reply you were hoping for. Jake’s thumb brushed your cheek softly, your ears flattening against your head as you felt yourself losing control. "I have always liked you." His voice was as gentle as his touch, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. The weight of his words hung in the air, all the uncertainty and fear that had plagued your heart suddenly disappeared, replaced by warmth.

You took a deep breath, his eyes locked with yours, and mustered the courage to speak your truth. "I want you," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and longing. The connection between you deepened, the air crackling with an electric energy. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Jake leaned in closer to you, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck. "You can have all of me."

Your lips pressed against his cautiously, your heart hammering in your chest as you pressed into him. His lips parted, his tongue tracing the curve of your lower lip. You let out a shaky breath as you felt yourself begin to lose control, his hand moved to the neck of your neck and pressed you closer into him. You kissed him deeply, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you mounted his lap.

You pulled back, panting heavily as he mourned the loss of you. “What is it,” Jake whispered into your mouth. You felt your heart ache at the thought, “you’ve already mated… we can not-” He hushed you with another deep kiss, his hands reaching around to grab at your queue. “I’m still part human… which means I can.” His voice was full of sincerity, as he pulled his forward, slowly you watched them interlock. The way you felt was indescribable, you could feel every heightened emotion, every throb of his heartbeat, every rush of blood, and every bit of pleasure.

He moaned against your mouth, your fingers tangling themselves in his locs. You were able to feel the warmth radiating off his skin, your thighs squeezing around his waist as he ran his hands across your back unlacing your top. You gasped against his mouth as his fingertips danced along your bare back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You began to move your hips slowly, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he suckled on your neck. His lips parted from your neck, a faint growl escaping his lips, “you’re so perfect, babygirl.” He gripped the sides of your loincloth, untying them with haste, you shivered when the air hit the wetness between your thighs.

Jake gently eased you on the ground, maneuvering himself in between your thighs. He gazed down at you for a moment, admiring you in the moonlight. The way the moon illuminated your skin and hair, how your body shone with a sheen of sweat and the way your eyes seemed to glow. His finger slid against your folds, "so wet already." You shivered, a whine escaping your throat. "Jake-"

"You've never been touched like this before, have you," His cock prodded at your entrance, the head slipping inside of you. Jake moved his hands, placing one on your hip while the other gripping your thigh. You let out a loud scream, the feeling of being stretched making your legs weak. “N-No,” you whimpered out. Jake pushed you down, his cock forcing itself into your tight cunt. “You’ve been a good little girl waiting for me huh?”

He groaned; his cock burying itself deep inside of you. "That's right, baby. You’re doing so good for me." Jake’s hands moved to your waist, moving you up and down his cock. "M-Ma’Jake, ahh!" You cried out, each time he hit your center. You gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "S-so pretty," his words slurred. The once holy area, meant to connect with Ewya, was filled with the sound of your skin slapping together and the sounds he was ripping out of you.

Your cunt began to tighten, a sickly-sweet heat building inside of you. "P-please," you cried out. He slowed his thrusts, biting his lip hard "not yet, princess" he pulled you on top of him, his length filling you completely. "We’re gonna cum together." He rammed himself into you, hitting the spot inside that made your legs turn to jelly. Jake moaned, "s-good babe." He bounced you on his lap, admiring the way your breasts moved with each thrust. Jake slipped his fingers underneath you, rubbing at your clit. He continued whispering sweet nothings into your ear, praising you for how good you take him.

Jake gripped your hips, slowly lifting you off his cock and slamming you down again. The forest began spinning as you felt yourself nearing climax, the sweet agony building up inside you. "That’s it,” he hissed, "Cum with me, babygirl." You whimpered loudly, the coil in your stomach tightening. His words made your mind go blank, his finger began rubbing faster against your clit, and the heat in your core was nearing its breaking point. “Ah- Ah- Jake!” Your eyes rolled back into your head as the coil snapped, pleasure racked your body. Jake’s thrust became sloppy, until he buried himself deep inside you, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” He growled as he began filling you with his seed, your body collapsing on his. You laid there, tangled in each other's arms, as you slowly came down from the high.

His cock slipped out of you, cum dripping from your womb and down your thigh. Jake pressed a kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, "my little princess," he grinned, "You should have told me how you felt sooner." Your entire body felt sore, yet you were completely at peace. Jake kissed you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making you melt. "I’m never leaving you alone again."

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #jake sully x omaticaya!reader #jake sully x na'vi reader #jake sully smut #jake sully fluff #avatar fic #jake sully imagine

258 notes · View notes

tinycozycomfort · 9 months

Text

rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta.

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done.

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for.

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation.

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for.

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him.

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing.

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.”

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?”

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.”

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out.

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.”

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?”

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?”

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.”

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?”

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it.

She might be.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—”

“Hey.”

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.”

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else.

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class.

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on.

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—”

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.”

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.”

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.”

Right, he’d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home.

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.”

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours.

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream.

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old.

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways.

But it’s not up to you.

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel.

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating.

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome.

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts.

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking.

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged.

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him.

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.”

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull.

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack.

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy.

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take.

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding.

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating.

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed.

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal.

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all.

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him.

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself.

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy.

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it..

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you.

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat.

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?”

“What?”

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?”

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to.

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?”

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself.

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why?

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away.

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.”

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous.

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.”

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more.

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.”

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear.

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other.

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun.

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?”

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.”

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?”

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?”

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?”

“So you can get his number.”

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes.

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.”

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.”

And then you’re alone again.

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed.

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous.

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing.

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet.

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind.

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now.

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion.

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind.

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time.

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement.

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip.

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable. He’s going to be a problem.

#joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader

401 notes · View notes

summercreolefanfictioner · 7 months

Text

diabolik lovers modern college au general headcanons (sakamaki brothers)

• the sakamaki bros don't live in the same house, except for the triplets bcos cordelia is the only legal wife of karl in this au (she's the first wife after all)

• shuu lives in one of beatrix's old condo unit while reiji in one of karl's mini house (yeah he has that house all by himself bcos kaaaaarl)

• subaru lives in the university dorm bcos he doesn't like relying on karl (well except for christa's meds bcos she went insane and all that sht so karl might as well pay for that)

• despite going to the same university, the six of them don't cross paths often (except for the triplets and subaru bcos they like to rile him up and tease him endlessly like a torture)

• since this is modern college au, all characters are aged up (shuu is 22, reiji is 21, the triplets are 20, and subaru is 19)

• despite being the oldest, shuu is stuck in his second year bcos he kept repeating most of his law electives (he would rather slack off than pass his law course wtf and it usually takes around 4-5 yrs to finish)

• all bros were mandated by karl to take at least one business elective per year bcos they might be working under his corporation in the near future (ayato's major is business so he has no escape)

• reiji is an exception to this rule bcos he had been granted by karl to focus only on neurosurgery since "he's the only son who doesn't disrespect me" (tbh it was only a ruse by karl since he has no reasons to make reiji his heir despite him being a genius 💀💀💀)

• ayato is so famous in the university like his red hair stands out and his status as the university's most popular basketball player made him the school IT boy

• but bcos he's a varsity player, he's not often at school so he had to take weekend classes (this is also another reason why most of his exes are either girls who watched his game or they're students from other univ or college)

• his famous relationship tho was with a rich girl who's also the main dancer of a popular cheerleading squad from a rival school (ayato broke up with her due to the immense pressure of social media and her fans)

• ayato is also the eternal chauffer of his two bros like hello let him flaunt that red sports car baby (laito and kanato have their own cars; they just don't like driving that much)

• kanato studies forensic mortuary in the same bldg as ayato and reiji; the law bldg is a separate institution from them so they have no idea what shuu was doing

• except for kanato bcos he likes lounging in the music room singing scarborough fair and bcos his voice is so relaxing, shuu listens to it for free (kanato secretly hates that shuu does it tho bcos it reminds him too much of cordelia and her shtty ways of traumatizing him)

• laito is studying hotel and restaurant management on another bldg and it's the farthest one from all his bros (like you have to pass by 4 or 5 larger bldgs before you reach their institution)

• this is bcos ryoutei university has their own dedicated hotel and restaurant for students with courses related to said industry

• so yeah maya (aka my oc/kanato's s/o) sees laito more often than her own boyfriend in the campus

• laito always has exes in every course like there would be 3 or 4 girls under the same course that have already slept with him what a slut

• and yes there is a huge possibility laito, subaru, and shuu have dated the same girl bcos these three would only date the same type of girl (the pure looking one who secretly has lewd desires and digs bad boys like them)

• it was a shock for yui when she found out half of the girls from her class have slept with laito

• then laito told her he likes corrupting pure girls and toying with their minds until they become insane and dependent on him (sounds canon, no?)

• there was a time when laito dated one of kanato's professors and she ended up dealing with kanato's incessant and murderous glares every time she teaches their class. his reason? bcos "she reeks so much of that perverted laito"

• the sbros actually had this same english prof who randomly fails someone despite their intelligence bcos he likes exerting his power like that

• while some of them threaten him using the sakamaki name, kanato had to disguise as a girl and seduce the sht out of this perverted teacher (the old geezer was so hooked he just believed this girl was kanato's twin substituting for his bro bcos he was 'sick')

• speaking of which, subaru got attracted to kanato's alter ego like once upon a time he saw her daintly pick up her bag and tuck her hair behind her ear and boom heart arrows everywhere

• afterward, subaru asked kanato who was that one chick at his class with the long black hair dressing like a sexy lolita

• "oh, you mean me?"

• subaru had nightmares after that

• and yes kanato uses that info to blackmail him to do his bidding

• "if you don't do what I say, I'll tell everyone you fell in love with my alter ego"

• oh btw subaru's major is more on athletics? like he wanted to be a PE or sports instructor/coach in the future bcos accdg to him "fighting is the only thing I'm good at"

• his allowance is mostly spent on repairs on the dorm tho (guess punching walls ain't limited in the family house)

• the reality of his dream is beginning to weigh on him tho bcos some students are scared shtless of him and his violent tendencies

• laito became one of his students one time when he was assigned to be an assistant coach

• "waaahh subaru-kun your expression is so scary pls be gentle"

• reiji actually dated someone from ayato's class bcos her father has huge connections with famous neurosurgeons

• shuu keeps a video of one of his exes doing some cowgirl sht on him (he likes her moans that's why)

• all of kanato's exes studied in the same bldg as him; and yes, they are all from yui's course but each of them from different years and classes (he is picky like that)

• up to this day, reiji looks down on this one female classmate who dated shuu like what does she see in that good-for-nothing (well uhh his huge d-)

• accdg to both kanato and laito, yui is the loudest girl ayato has been with (kanato swore one day he'll stuff her mouth with socks until she chokes if she keeps moaning so loud while he's watching his fave murder docu series)

• ayato keeps teasing both reiji and subaru as virgins (they aren't tho; but despite their tough facade, their experiences are quite hmmm minimal so there are things they don't know)

• shuu almost dated this one classmate of kanato (almost bcos she keeps talking abt those dead people she handled with formaldehyde which is gross so he was turned off a bit)

• the triplets are usually the representatives of karl during his corporate and family parties (sometimes the other three will drop by... well mostly reiji but the other two must've been forced by karl somehow)

• there was a drunk scandal video of the triplets and subaru where subaru was driving while kanato and ayato kept making fun of him

• then kanato was video calling maya and asking her to come over and "watch a movie with him" while ayato was making delusions of aliens flying around the car, almost causing subaru to drive the wrong way

• laito was sitting beside subaru, reprimanding ayato to stop his delusions bcos there were no aliens but only flying trees (ayo what?)

• there's a part 2 but this time shuu and reiji were in the car and shuu kept laughing at ayato bcos subaru's driving is getting messed up bcos of the alien shenanigans

• and reiji was crying bcos apparently all of them are going to die and also bcos kanato is finally talking "properly" to a girl (what do you mean properly he is being a pervert)

• he also said "laito has finally seen the light and started being the good son"

• yui is actually the one filming all this videos tho

ps. I might make memes abt modern college au later on

159 notes · View notes

bejeweledblondie · 7 months

Text

Just Like My Babcha

Sobiesław “Gromsko” Kościuszko x F! Reader

Summary: Y/N comes from a Polish-American family & learned from the best at making homemade pierogi catching the attention of a familiar Polish operator

A/N: I’m not from Poland I myself have polish ancestry & my own Babcha came from Poland but she never taught me unfortunately so if there’s any mistranslations I apologize in advance. For anyone who doesn’t know a pierogi is like a potato dumpling, but it can be filled with cabbage & other food

Warnings: potential mistranslations, traditional gender roles, thoughts of impregnating

Y/N’s hips swayed side to side to the song that was coming out of the nearby speaker. She used the back of her hand to brush some of her hair out of her face, & got flour on her cheek in the process. It was Easter, & she was making pierogi to celebrate the holiday. She was feeling a little homesick being far away from her family, & called her mother asking for the recipe. The smell of the dough was bringing back nostalgic memories of going to the grand Orthodox Church & coming home for a early lunch. Her babcha would help her little delicate hands pinch the edges to hold the cabbage & potatoes.

She was so focused on cutting the dough properly & to proportion that she didn’t even notice the shadow she was starting to acquire. Sobesław was returning from a mass at the local Orthodox Church when he was pleasantly surprised by the smell of pierogi’s cooking. He walked into the conjoined kitchen & living room area of the apartment he lived in. He was surprised to see their Human Resources Secretary standing there. She was also so kind to him, & was actually able to pronounce his name correctly. He was in utter shock when she was able to pronounce it on the first try.

He leaned up against the doorway as he watched her hum to herself while she started to fill each pierogi. This was a sight he could get used to. Growing up in a very traditional Catholic Polish household had instilled very traditional values. A vision of her with a small baby bump glowing from pregnancy making pierogi’s & other food played in his head. She was absolutely beautiful. Being a civilian, let alone a woman on a military base had to have been intimidating for her. Every time he’d walk into the office she worked out of her head would always been down, failing to make eye contact. Her shyness always intrigued him. He couldn’t imagine someone so stunning want to hide their face all the time.

Her delicate hands started to fold & pinch the pierogis creating the half moon shape. It took one accidental bump into the side of a table for him to gain her attention. A small gasp escaped her lips at the sound & a slew of polish curses rang out of his. A scarlet blush appeared on his cheeks as he tried to cough it off. She looked and smiled at him.

“Oh Sobiesław you startled me,” She started. “I’m assuming you got a good waft of the pierogis I already have cooking.” A small smirk danced on her lips.

“Tak (yes).” He replied. “Just wanted to know if you needed any help. My babcha, she used to make them with me.”

“That’s where I learned too.” She replied enthusiastically. “Well come in! Just make sure you wash up.” He walked into the kitchen & washed his hands in the sink. Once he finished drying them off he stood right beside her. “Hands.” She instructed. He held out his hands and she placed some flour in the them. Rubbing his hands together he spread the flour & got to work.

As he started to put some of the cabbage into the dough, he couldn’t help but notice how petite she was. The pierogis looked significantly larger in her delicate hands than his. She smiled up at him & he nearly melted into the floor right there.

“I can see our Babcha’s had very similar techniques.” She said. “How long have you been cooking them?”

“Ever since I was able to walk.” He replied. “My Babcha wanted me to know so I could pass down the recipe.”

“Mine too.” She replied smiling & continued to fill & pinch the pierogis. “Seems like they’d be close.” He could’ve dropped to one knee right there. She always had a reputation of being so kind, but she truly was an angel. It wasn’t very often that his teammates asked much about his life or his family. It was refreshing & comforting to talk to her about his life back home.

“How does a woman like you wind up in a place like this?” He asked. “You’re an anioł (angel).” She smiled at his compliment. Her life wasn’t the best back home, & the civilian sector of defense contracting provided her with a way out. Good benefits & there would always be work.

“I needed to get out. Home wasn’t the best environment for me to be in.” She replied somewhat solemnly. “Since I have personal health issues I wasn’t qualified for military service but I found employment in the civilian sector.”

A feeling of sadness washed over him. He couldn’t imagine someone as kind & beautiful having to experience something so tragic. It only triggered the instinct to protect & take care of her more. Once the pierogis were cooking away, she started to set the table for the two of them. Beautiful hand painted Polish pottery littered the table. Intricate blue & red floral designs created a kaleidoscope of colors that stood out on the white table cloth.

Sobesław admired her attention to detail even if it was just the two of them. He too was feeling homesick for his country, but seeing all the traditional Polish decor around him made him feel right at home. A timer went off alerting them the last batch of pierogis were done. Sobesław went to take the pierogis off of the pan & Y/N’s hand came down smacking it.

“You go sit down,” She ordered. “I’ll take care of it.” In pure shock he slowly made his way to the table & plopped himself down into a chair. Not long after she started to bring out the tray of pierogis. Soon followed challah bread, kielbasa (sausage), & potatoes.

“Kochanie (my darling) how do you plan for us to eat all of this?” He asked. Her heart fluttered at the term of endearment. She really did cook a meal for a family of ten.

“We’ll manage,” She replied as she poured him a glass of wine. “I’m sure some others will see the leftovers in the fridge. But don’t eat too much there’s still dessert.” She walked back into the kitchen to grab the opłatek (communion wafer) for grace. As she was walking back out she caught Sobesław almost taking a huge bite out of a pierogi.

“Tsk tsk, we still have to say grace!” She stated. A small blush crept onto his face, he had forgotten. She walked up to him handing the opłatek to him for him to break off a piece. Then she place a small kiss to his forehead. She walked to her place setting & sat down. A small prayer was said & they both each ate their piece of the opłatek. “Now you can dig in.” She teased.

He immediately started to pick up the pierogi he cut earlier. A small moan escaped his lips as the pierogi touched his tongue. He started to hear wedding bells the more he ate.

“I’m assuming it’s good.” She laughed. He nodded still speechless from the food that was in his mouth.

“They’re just like my babcha’s.” He replied after he swallowed. She smiled at the complimented & started to cut into her own food. “What are you doing next Friday?” He asked.

“Nothing.” She replied.

“I want to returned the favor, let me take you out.” He stated very bluntly.

“Sure! It’s a date.” She replied & started to eat the food in front of her. His heart leaped, & he couldn’t wait to tell his babcha he found the girl he was going to marry.

#cod imagines #sobieslaw gromsko kościuszko #sobiesław kościuszko #gromsko #gromsko x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod modern warfare #kortac #ghost x y/n #könig call of duty #cod masterlist

149 notes · View notes

tragedybunny · 2 months

Text

Love Her Like She Needs

༺Summary༻

Serafina gets worked up and needs to be calmed down. Astarion is always happy to help his love in any way he can.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ PiV sex, domestic discipline, spanking / impact play, bondage, gag use

༺Word Count༻ 2139

༺A/N༻ This is just self-indulgent porn. I don't even know if it's any good. Also, another fic featuring my Tav as a named character, yay!

Rain battered the tent, accented by periodic lightning strikes and peals of thunder, trapping Astarion and Serafina for the day. Mercifully, the enchanted tent was larger than it should be by looking at it, giving them plenty of space. Despite that, he could feel Sera growing more tense as their sunless traveling hours wasted away. None of their leads on ways for him to walk in the sun had paid off and it was starting to wear on her. It was a habit he’d once mocked, then gently chided her for, and these days did his best to keep her from engaging in it, the habit taking all responsibility on herself and worrying endlessly over it. She was itching to move on, next city, next possible item Gale had found in his research.

She sighed from her spot on the mattress next to him, letting her book drop to the floor of the tent. “Gods, I’m bored.” She whined, something Sera only did when she was in a certain mind state, when things were building up, threatening to overwhelm her, and she just wanted to let go. “Astarion,” she jabbed him with her finger, demanding he turn his attention from his own book.

“You’ll have to entertain yourself, darling.” He said as a warning and an invitation. Earlier, while still half-asleep, she’d pulled him into her arms and told him to drink from her since the weather had turned. Full of her blood and vitality, his body was already responding to the unspoken plea. If she needed to play, he would oblige.

“Not if I make you entertain me.” She snatched his book out of his hand with a mischievous laugh.

She was absolutely asking for it. Astarion sighed with feigned irritation, pulling his book back and setting it down next to him. “You’re being an absolute brat.” She smirked at him in answer, daring him to do something about it. “If you need to be entertained, I suppose I’ll indulge you.” She opened her mouth, no doubt about to declare victory, but he cut her off. “Bring me your hairbrush.” A special treat, he’d never used her own hairbrush on her.

“No, wait, I’m sorry.” The turn of attitude was impressive, but all part of the game.

“Oh no, my dear, sweet Serafina, it’s far too late for apologies. Hairbrush, now.” He sat up, putting his legs over the edge of the bed, a perfect spot for her to lay in.

She whimpered as she went to fetch it, making a great show of sudden remorse. Sera’s hairbrush was thick, silver plated, and wide. It was going to do wonders on her pale little bottom. Delightfully, she hadn’t gotten dressed that morning, remaining in her nightgown and a pair of thin underwear. As much as she needed the play between them, he enjoyed it, her sweet submission, the trust she placed in him, the control he had.

With the brush gleaming in the lantern lights, she stood in front of him, already nearly in tears. Theatrics, he could smell her arousal mixed with anticipation. He took it from her hand and patted his thigh. “Come on, over the knee, little love.”

“But Astarion…” She wheedled.

“You know you were asking for it,” he said, voice stern. “Pull your nightgown up too.”

Without further protest, she lay down across his thighs, bottom presented to him. “Good girl.” Reaching for the waistband of her underwear, he pulled them down, finding them already soaked, and she began to whimper. They wouldn’t have been much protection, but removing them was just the extra touch to deepen the act. Meticulously, he positioned them around her thighs, her perfect pale skin just waiting for the brush. “Count them and don’t lose track.”

Waiting, he let her anticipation build, watching her try to not shift around too much. The first strike landed, reddening her skin instantly, leaving her yelping. “One,” she managed with shaky breath.

“That’s very good.” Before the praise could sink in, he landed another blow she dutifully counted, both cheeks a blooming color.

The third took her from gasping to sobbing and she stuttered out her count through tears. Quicker than he had thought, perhaps he should go easy on her. They had agreements in place, to play certain roles to the fullest, and ways either of them could stop, but pushing too far didn’t feel right today. Besides, there were other ways to give her what she craved.

Quickening the pace, he delivered the rest of the spankings in sharp succession, barely enough space for Sera to catch her breath between them, counting despite her cries as they landed.

“Nine,” she whimpered on the tenth one, and Astarion cleared his throat. “T-ten,” she corrected quickly, was rewarded with a hand stroking her hair.

“Very good, pet,” he praised. “You took your punishment so well.” His hand traveled down her back, rubbing small circles, a short reprieve.

He finished pulling her panties off while she sniffled through more apologies, the most delightful idea playing in his mind. “On your knees on the mattress.”

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked, and he felt his cock stir at the term.

As soon as she had settled, he pulled her nightgown over her head with no explanation, leaving her shivering with expectation. Humming idly, he found the trunk that contained some of their favorite amusements, thank the gods for the magic that allowed them to carry all this. Loudly searching through it, building the tension in her, he found what he was looking for, a gag and some silken cord.

Walking back toward her, he stood silently for a moment before issuing another command. “Mouth open.”

“But why,” she protested and then inhaled sharply, worrying about another punishment.

“Because you need something constructive to occupy your time and furniture doesn’t talk.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat at his words.

Gently, he placed the bit in her mouth, and tightened the strap, feeling his own arousal growing. “Very good,” he praised, knowing she’d crave it. “Now hold out your arms in front of you and face me.”

Tears dotted her face still, and drool already ran from where the gag held her mouth open. She was gorgeously ruined, all for him. He could lose himself just looking at her, but that would ruin the fun. Pressing her wrists together, he wrapped the silken cord around them, securely binding them in position. “Perfect, stay right there.”

He watched her puzzled expression as he stripped himself and lay back on the mattress, propped up by a stack of pillows, cock visibly growing hard. Palming himself, he let out a sigh, stiffening further, ready for her. “Come here and sit on my cock love, I have something to keep you busy with.”

Gripping her hips, he helped guide her to straddling him. The moist heat of her already starting to tempt, but he couldn’t let the fun end so soon. Positioning her just right, he coaxed her down to impale herself on him.

He almost let out a groan as she settled into place, so wet and warm as she clenched around him. “Now I want you to stay perfectly still,” he balanced his book on her outstretched, bound arms, “and hold my book for me. If you behave yourself for long enough, I’ll release you. Understood.”

Sera nodded quickly, eager to appease him. But he had no intention of making it that easy. His eyes skimmed a page, never intending to read it. Reaching out to flip to the next, he slipped his fingers under the cover, rubbing against her nipple, making her whine softly. “Sensitive today, aren’t we?”

Her eyes widened at his words, realizing he wasn’t going to be fair. He would leave her waiting for the worst, though. Relaxing, he lay back, pretending to read again, really admiring the woman straddling his hips, bound and stuffed full of him. His partner, the love of his life. A few minutes later, he reached forward again, delving under the cover of the book to give her nipple a proper squeeze. Reflexively, she rolled her hips, rutting against him. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I said to stay perfectly still, pet.”

His hand slapped down on her already reddened bottom, and she made a noise around the gag. His cock twitched with all the motion. Gods, it was so tempting to just roll her over and fuck her mercilessly. “Now, try again.”

He leaned back, once again feigning reading, his cock throbbing inside her. The wait was torture for him as well, laying there with a placid face as he listened to her ragged breathing and felt her wetness dripping out around his cock to slick his pelvis. Idly, his fingers began to stroke her thigh, feeling her tense as she tried to not move. Nails gently raked along her soft skin as his fingers wandered closer to her sex.

Her thighs tightened around his hips, and he watched in delight as her eyes grew wide. One finger gently slid past her folds to stroke where she was most sensitive. Beautiful little panting sounds answered his action. He couldn’t resist grinning up at her as a second finger was added, increasing the pressure on her clit.

Despite the way her cunt clenched around him, she managed to hold still, book firmly in place. He could feel her coiled tightly, ready to come undone, and how she shuddered when he withdrew his fingers. Soon.

“Are you suffering, little love,” he cooed at her.

Whimpering around the gag, she nodded vigorously. Astarion rolled his hips, thrusting up into her, rejoicing in her desperation. Once more, he returned to the stack of pillows, more torture to play out. His finger found her clit again, rubbing slow, languid strokes along it. She was positively drenched for him, driving him nearly as mad as he had her.

“I bet you want to come, don’t you?” He teased, his one finger still giving her the most feather-light caresses. She answered with a noise, and Astarion could see more tears in her eyes, giving him pause.

“Serafina, look at me,” he commanded, forcing her eyes to his. “I asked you a question.” She nodded, an answer and a confirmation all was still well.

Sitting up fully, he began to stroke her roughly, two fingers circling her clit. His other hand reached for her breast, squeezing it and pulling and twisting her nipple. Her face was a thing of wonder as she began to fall apart with his touch. In the midst of her trembling, the book tumbled from her arms. Her eyes went wide and she froze, staring at him.

He’d had enough of playing with her though, it was time they both got what they needed. Swiftly, he rolled, pinning her and her bound arms beneath him, moaning as she instinctively pulled her legs up to her chest. Fingers digging into the skin of her hips, he fucked her with a desperate need. Soft whimpers from behind the gag told him she was close, teased beyond the point of lasting, not that he was far behind. “Come for me, love.”

Her eyes rolled back and with a desperate keening, she tightened around him, her whole body shaking slightly. Every thrust of his continued to pull little mewls from her as he relentlessly chased his own pleasure. “Gods,” he looked down and she was staring at him not with lust, but with that gaze so full of love it was hard to contemplate sometimes. That finally sent him over the edge. “Se-ra-fin-a,” he ground out, as he spilled himself inside her.

Sweat covered the both of them, and the sounds of the storm still raging outside mixed with ragged, quiet breathing. “Lesson learned,” he whispered hoarsely. Below him, she nodded, a peaceful, dreamy look on her face.

Pulling the gag off and tossing it aside, he leaned down to kiss her softly, hearing the slowing of her rapid pulse. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, heart swelling at the way she nuzzled into his neck. Would there ever be a time she didn’t have that effect on him?

Carefully he unbound her arms, cord joining the gag on the floor, concerns for later. The next steps were like a sacred ritual between them, as he cleaned her, tended to her backside, and dressed her again. “Can I have your shirt,” she asked sweetly, as though he could deny her anything. Finally, he pulled her into his arms, safe, loved, treasured, worshiped.

“I love you,” she sighed against his skin.

“I love you too,” he replied, as if those words could contain a fraction of what he felt for her. The whole of his world, in flesh and blood, placed into his arms for him to worship.

tag list

@micropoe10 @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

@tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblog @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary @talented-bitch

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #bg3 tav #bg3 tav: serafina #my fanfic #my writing #dom!astarion #sub!tav

108 notes · View notes

sollsmith · 3 months

Text

Fire in the Flesh

Chapter Three

Daemon Targaryen x Original Female Character

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: mentions of abuse

Summary:

After five years at war in the Stepstones and the death of his first wife, Daemon Targaryen returns to court embroiling himself, and his niece and heir to the throne Rhaenyra, in chaos and scandal. Daemon’s actions cause Viserys to give him the one thing he has always wanted. A Valyrian bride. Just not the one he had in mind.

“He will say no!” Maelor said, exasperated at this point.

“He is sending me to live in a foreign country, with foreign people. Surely having Marra with me is a good idea. Plus, I’ll be married to the Prince of Realm, do I not need a handmaiden?” Daella tilted her head. To her, this was the most logical thing in the world.

“Yes, you will. One of your husbands choosing.”

“I highly doubt that the prince has time to assign maids to me. We are getting married within a half moon once we dock in Westeros, he couldn’t possibly know what type of handmaiden I need. I think the Prince will be most grateful that I have taken a task off his plate. He can spend more time keeping his brother’s city safe.” Maelor breaks eye contact with her and rolls his jaw when she says this. While it had been true, Prince Daemon had been reinstated as Commander of the City Watch. Daella had just assumed that he had previously stepped down due to the war in the Stepstones. Maelor didn’t have the heart or courage to tell her he had really been fired and exiled for celebrating the death of his newborn nephew.

“Ella, you will need a Westerosi maid. You have to integrate into their ways, and a native maid is the best way to do so.”

“And you think the best way to integrate me is to completely abandon me with them?”

“We are not abandoning you-”

“Yes, you are. You are leaving King’s Landing the day after the Princesses' wedding. I will not see you again until the tenth moon, at your own wedding!”

“Father will be there until you leave for Dragonstone.”

“He’s not exactly good company.” Daella seethed quietly.

Maelor sighs and shuts his eyes. He knows she is right. Marra will ease his sister's transition, he even considered asking his father during their last meeting when planning the journey to King's Landing, but he had already pushed a little too far when he asked that Daella be given a couple of personal guards. The truth was, Maelor had barely slept since his father told him of the agreements that had been made. He was content with his own match, particularly after he met Lady Laena on his last trip to Driftmark.

It was his sister’s match that kept him up at night. He had heard every rumour about the Rogue Prince there was to know. The list was never ending, ranging from mildly amusing to horror stories that made him feel slightly ill. But there was one in particular that kept him up at night. One, that every time he looked at his sweet sister, he couldn't help but be consumed by guilt and dread. It was tearing him apart, not giving Daella every piece of gossip and every horrid tale he had heard of her betrothed.

“Let me see what I can do.”

Daella sat on the quarter deck, the early morning skeleton crew growing larger as the sun continued to rise. They had broken into Blackwater Bay two days ago, and now King’s Landing was fully in view. She had overheard the first mate ordering the crew to start preparations for docking as she climbed the stairs onto the deck just an hour ago.

The trip had been long. Maelor had insisted they not sail through the Stepstones, so they had travelled by hathay for two weeks to Myr, before setting sail across the narrow sea. She had spent most of the last two weeks in her cabin, the sea had been unforgivable on her stomach and she was on a mission to avoid her father as much as possible.

While he had agreed to allow Marra to accompany her to Westeros, a conversation that had ended with Daella leaving bruising wrists, bloody knuckles and a stinging cheek, he had also taken to berating her if she even so much glanced at one of the many men that were working on the boat. So she had remained in her small cabin, with Marra as her soul companion.

Marra was a couple of years younger than Daella. Her father was a red priest, born to a prostitute of the red temple. Her father had acquired her as a handmaid for Daella two years ago when her previous handmaid had decided to leave for Pentos. In those two years, the dark haired girl had become Daella’s fast and only friend.

While Marra was bought by her father to dress, wash and do Daella’s hair, Daella had taken to do the same for her, the pair spending hours braiding and pinning each other's hair, and Daella forcing Marra to dress up in her old dresses. The girls were rarely seen apart, gossiping and giggling as they walked around the gardens or from one end of the Black Walls to another.

Daella’s eyes had been set on the large brick red castle on the horizon, so lost in thought that she only realised Marra was climbing up the steps towards her when she finally reached the top.

“You’re up early! I was looking for you.” Marra beams. She had been worried about her friend. In truth Daella not leaving her chamber was not a new thing. Ever since she had gotten the news of her impending marriage, she had slightly faded as a person. While never a loud girl, she had taken to talking even less, and seemed to be consistently within her own head.

“Mm, good morrow Marra. Sleep well?” Daella smiled softly at her friend, shuffling along the bench to allow her to sit beside her. Marra takes her seat, reaching over to tuck the shawl Daella had tighter around Daella’s body.

“Like a newborn babe. I must say, the sea does agree with me.”

“Perhaps when we dock we will find you a nice seafarer who will take you on voyages.” Daella teased, bumping her arm into Marra’s.

“And leave you? I think not!” Marra stated, taking Daella’s hand as she did so, holding it in hers. Daella smiled, appreciating her comfort. The girls fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments, watching as the docks grew closer and closer.

“He’s been lying to me.” Daella broke the silence.

“Who? Your father?”

“Maelor.” Daella sighs. “I’m not sure what exactly. I know it’s in regard to the Prince. He refuses to tell me anything about the man.”

“Maybe there is nothing to know?”

“I don’t gain the title ‘The Rogue Prince’ if there is nothing to know about you, Marra,” Daella eyes her, Marra laughs a little.

“Yes, but perhaps it is not relevant. If he was so terrible, Maelor wouldn’t have agreed. He would have smuggled you out of Volantis before your father could accept.”

“He did speak of him once, when he returned from Driftmark the first time.”

“And what did he say?”

“He called him a savage. A disloyal and violent savage. Before the Prince left the Stepstones, do you know what he did? Do you know why my brother insisted we sail from Myr and not Volantis?”

“Mm?”

“There are two thousand Triarchy corsair corpses staked on the shores. By the order of my betrothed.”

Marra doesn’t say anything, just squeezes Daella’s hand lightly. Daella rests her head on Marra’s shoulder. She cannot take her eyes off the keep, the place she will call home for the next moon or two. While she is aware that men do cruel and terrible things in war, she is finding it hard to convince herself that leaving men staked on the shore was necessary for survival. To her it just seemed like cruelty. What type of husband will the Prince be if he can be cruel for the sake of being cruel.

“Your life here will be happy. I know it. It may take time, but you will find it. Away from Alios, a life free from behind the Black Walls. This might not be what you envisioned for yourself, but promise me you will try to make it work?”

“But am I trading one horrible man for another?”

“Maybe, but at least here you can run from here. Your mother did. So can you.”

As the carriage pulls through the gates of the Red Keep, Daella tries her best to look past the small cutout shapes blocking her view.

“Daella!” Her father scolds. Daella leans back in her seat next to Maelor, looking straight ahead at Alios.

“Sorry, father.”

The carriage pulls to a stop and the door is pulled open. Her father is the first to get out, turning to help Daella out of the carriage, offering his hand. So the show begins, thinks Daella, taking her fathers hand and ensuring to keep a pleasant expression on her face. She steps out onto the soft dirt of the courtyard, and does her best not to show her disappointment.

The keep seems dull and rather miserable, completely different to the light and vibrant palaces in Volantis. She was grateful Marra had suggested wearing a light purple overcoat over her more vibrant dress, fearing she would have drawn too many eyes had she not. But it seems to not matter, as everyone who was busy working or making their way through the courtyard had now stopped to stare at the silver-haired girl, just as the people in Harrenhal had done twelve years ago.

“Alios Nogarys. Welcome to King’s Landing.” A voice says. Daella turns her head around to see a man starting at the top of the steps in front of the door. A tall, large man dressed in all black. Daella notes the pin on his chest. The Hand of the King. He moved forward, down the steps to shake Alios’ hand.

“Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King. His Grace does apologise he is not here to greet you himself, we just arrived from Driftmark last night. Final arrangements for the Princess’ wedding.” Lyonel smiles warmly and apologetically.

“Thank you, Lord Strong.” Alios shook his hand, before jestering back to his two children that stood behind him. “My son Maelor, and daughter Daella.”

“My Lord” Daella spoke, smiling and bowing her head softly to the man. Maleor just nodded his head in kind acknowledgement.

“His Grace will see Lady Daella in the small council room. Come, I will show you the way.” Lyonel turned, beginning to pace us up the steps, Alios close behind.

“Just Daella?” Maelor asks, eying both Daella and then his father.

“Viserys wishes to speak with his future good sister alone.” Lyonel confirmed, looking nervously at Alios who was now standing close behind him. Daella begins to step forward, before stopping.

“What of my father and brother? And our household?” She asks. From the corner of her eye, she can see her father glaring at her.

“No need to worry my lady, a servant will show them to your rooms as well as their own.” Lyonel responded kindly.

“Thank you.” Daella nodded, and began to move forward following him into the Red Keep.

Lord Strong opens the door of the chamber and Daella follows quickly behind him.

“Your Grace. The Lady Daella Nogarys. They just arrived.” Lyonel announces, before turning to Daella and giving her a soft smile. “I will be outside when you are finished.”

“Thank you, Lord Strong.” Daella whispers and nods. The pair walk past each other as he ventures out and her further into the room, stepping out of the dark shaded part of the room.

“There you are!” Viserys beams as she finally comes into view. Daella smiles, remembering the kind and warm man that had made her feel welcome all those years ago. He was sitting at the top of the table. She stops at the end of the table and bows.

“Your Grace. A pleasure to meet again.”

“Haven’t you grown? Please sit!” He nods to the chair in front of her. Daella pulls the heavy wooden chair back, settling down in it.

"I trust the journey was well?"

"It was. Long, but I am happy to be here now. I may not eat fish for a whole moon." Daella smiles. It was true, if she saw or smelt another fish she may just through herself from one of the towers.

Viserys laughs, before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable coughing. Daella watches with slight panic, looking around, locating a table with wine and cups. She moves from her seat at the table, quickly grabbing a chalice and filling it with red wine. She hurries towards Viserys, going to place the cup in his left hand, before realising he is missing several fingers.

"Oh." She whispers softly, reaching over to hand him the cup to his right hand. "Here." She helps him raise the cup and take a few sips, before taking the cup off him.

"Thank you." Viserys asks weakly. “I hope this arrangement hasn’t caused you any distress?”

“No, your grace. I am a woman of a certain age, I knew this day was coming.” Daella lies. This arrangement had been causing her distress. She had spent last week crying herself to sleep. She is not even really sure why. She does not know the Prince, for all she knows he could be the great love of her life. But the unknown terrified her. What if he doesn't love her back? What if he is just like her father?

“Good. I’m glad to hear you are at peace. Daemon was meant to be here.” The King sighed. Daella feels her heart pick up at the mention of the prince. “Introduce you. But as you can see, he is not here.” Daella can tell he is frustrated. She walks back to the small table that housed the wine, returning the cup.

“I’m sure the Prince has important meetings to attend. We have the next half moon to get to know one another.” Daella offers to ease both the King and herself. Viserys chuckles.

“You will be lucky if you see him before your wedding day. I will be honest, Daella, he is not happy about this. I’ve barely seen him since I told him. But I will assure you he will perform his duty, I will ensure that. Daemon is chaotic and restless, he has the blood of the dragon-”

“As do I.”

Tag List: @ajthefujoshi @hangmanscoming

Add yourself to my taglist here!

For the masterlist to this series and all my other fics click here!

#daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #hotd

97 notes · View notes