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yourtamaki · 9 months

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rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind.

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

“no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.”

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets.

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?”

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to.

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

#zoro smut #one piece smut #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #god this has been in my drafts for so long

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urlocalfeiner · 1 year

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is it selfish to want you? | neteyam sully

gif by me!

pairing: neteyam sully x omaticiya!fem! reader

warnings: so much fluff, swearing, heated kissing, bonding, mating, intimate

a/n: both neteyam and you are about 17 in this, as to my knowledge that is when na'vi are declared as adults and are allowed to find a mate. please correct me if i am wrong!

masterlist!

neteyam sully was a boy of many things, he was a mighty warrior, loved by most- desired by more. he was easily one of the most sought out na'vi in the clan, many women in the clan had their eyes on him. they would do anything neteyam asked of them in a heartbeat- all waiting in anticipation for the day he would pick a mate to help him lead the clan.

but neteyam paid no attention to any of them, he had interest in not one other woman in the clan, except for you. his heart belonged to you and you didn't even know it. to him no na'vi even held so much as a finger to you and your beauty, your strong heart and mind- he honestly couldn't pinpoint any flaw you had even if he was held at gunpoint because in his eyes you truly had none. you were completely and utterly perfect.

but the one woman he wanted was the one that wasn't chasing after him- what he didn't know if that you had been pinning after him just as he did for you, but you were sure he did not return the feelings you had for him. he had all these women wanting him, why would he want you?

"neteyam!" he snapped his head at the sound of your voice calling his name, watching as you approached him with a small smile on your face. he was sitting on the forest floor carving a piece of wood. "do you know where kiri is?"

neteyam would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed when you asked him where his sister was, "sorry, i do not know." you sighed, plopping yourself down on the ground next to him- only now taking notice of what he was doing, carving something.

neteyam saw you were staring at what he was making out of wood with curiosity. "this is for tuk, lo'ak broke her other ikran toy." he tried to show you a bit better, removing his thumb a bit to make it more visible.

you chuckled- which brought butterflies to neteyam's chest. "poor tuk."

"i would say poor ikran, it got his neck snapped off." he joked, recalling how lo'ak accidently stepped on the wooden toy and tuk crying over the decapitated toy.

you laughed at his joke, "ah yes, poor ikran." he was not nearly done with carving the wooden toy, "do you mind if i stay?"

does neteyam mind if you stay? what kind of question was that? he did not mind, not one bit. with every fiber of his body he wanted you to stay- he wanted you to always be with him. "not one bit." he was excited that you wished to stay with him instead of finding the others which were probably doing something more fun than what he was.

you watched as his hands worked delicately, sure of every little move he made with his small knife when it met with the deep oak wood- your eyes slowly traveled up to his arms which were filled with muscle. it was no surprise, he was incredibly strong- his muscles just proved the point of it.

you admired his arms- as weird as it sounded, watching how the muscles tensed as he carved.

neteyam noticed how quiet you were being, turning to look at you slowly. realising you had your eyes trained on his toned arms, he felt a smirk coming to his lips- suddenly feeling confident. "my arm must be nice to look at, hm?"

you snapped your eyes away from his arm, heat spreading to your face- embarrassed you had just been caught staring at his arms. oh eywa, you have never wished to disappear more than you wanted to now. "uh, no?" it came out as more of a question than anything- you were a flustered mess.

he chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to work on carving tuk's toy. he felt proud that he could make you flustered- and was never more grateful for his toned arms. "right, that is why you were staring at them for so long." he teased you more.

"i was staring at them because of how dirty they are," you tried to regain yourself, rolling your eyes playfully- his arms did in fact have dirt on them from when he was out hunting that morning. "you need to go for a wash."

neteyam glared at you playfully, swiping his finger on his arm collecting some dirt and smeared it on your cheek. you slapped his finger away, groaning. "neteyam!- you skxqwng!" you rubbed your cheek in attempt to get the dirt that he had put on your face off. "i just cleaned myself!"

he grinned as he looked at your cheek- which was smeared with dirt, in your attempt to clean it you had made it worse- spreading it. "my finger slipped, sorry." he innocently said.

you raised your hand, slapping the side of his head harshly- making him shoot his hand up to his head that stung from your hit. "sorry, my hand slipped." you repeated his words, smirking.

but your smirk soon vanished as a smug look came to his face- you knew he was about to do something. and you were proved right as he stood up quickly, urapiductly picking you up, flinging your body over his shoulders with ease. you had not time to react with how fast he was at doing so and before you knew it he began to walk- your face being smushed into his back as one of his hands was holding you in place, the other holding your legs so you don't kick him.

"neteyam!-" you hit his back with your fist, trying to make him let go of you. "let go of me!- ugh, bitch!" he chuckled at the name you had decided to call him.

you continued to hit his back- your punches had no effect on him, his hold becoming tighter on you as you tried to squirm off his shoulders- having no success. you stopped fighting him as he suddenly came to a stop, hoping he was about to let you down. he let you down, just not in the way you had planned for.

he moved you from his shoulders, now holding you bridal style- he held a smirk on his face as he looked down at you. you were confused, looking around you. your eyes widened as you saw a large pond in front of you- knowing what he was about to do. you looked back to him, narrowing your eyes dangerously at him. telling him not to do it. "neteyam, let go of m-!" before you could finish your sentence you felt yourself get flung from his arms.

the cold water hitting your body as you landed in the water, as you resurfaced breathing heavily from not preparing yourself you looked up to neteyam who was standing on the dry grass in front of the pond, watching you in amusement.

before you could open your mouth to speak, neteyam once again interrupted you this time by jumping into the water right next to you- causing a large splash, the water getting in your mouth. you were truly done with this boy.

neteyam pulled his head out of the water, flinging his now wet braids away from his face so he could see you clearly- you had a sour look on your face as you glared at him. he was grinning widely, showing off his fangs. "what? you said to let you go."

"not like that!" you yelled at him, keeping yourself afloat. "i am going to kill you."

he raised one eyebrow teasingly, amused. "oh yeah?"

without a reply you swam forward at him, hitting him repeatedly as he laughed trying to swat your hands away- he quickly pulled himself underwater and before you could react you felt yourself being pulled under as well.

you opened your eyes under the water that you had just been dragged under, seeing neteyam in front of you grinning. you lunged forward at him in the water as he quickly dodged you- not fast enough though as you got a hold of his tail, pulling him back. you felt a smile make its way to your face as you saw neteyam's angry expression under the vision of the slightly murky water.

he swam forward to you, wrapping both his arms around your body, trapping you- pushing you both deeper under the water- as the two of you stopped fighting one another he admired how you looked. your hair floating above you, which looked almost magical- your white spots that couted your face glowing in the darkness of the water. ewya, if neteyam didn't run out of breath from being in water for too long, he was sure you would. your blushed as the two of you held eye contact- it felt so intimate, his hands wrapped around you gently as he floated just aboved you looking down at your face.

you seemed to have forgotten you couldn't breath underwater for a second, it finally registered to you that you were out of breath as neteyam pulled you and him back to the surface to breathe.

as you reached it the two of you gasped for air, regaining your breath. when you did the two of you bursted out laughing- you were suddenly glad he had thrown you in the water. oh how much fun you had with him, he never failed to put a smile on your face no matter what circumstances it was under.

as your laughter died down, you realised how cold you were- shivering slightly from the water. neteyam too realising the coldness, looking at you, “come on.” he softly said, pulling you to the edge were the dry grass was.

neteyam reached his hand out to help you up, you took it gratefully- you too now on the dry land. as you emerged small droplets from the water coated your body, dripping slowly into the soul beneath you. neteyam felt his heart pick up its rhythm, you looked like a goddess, you always did.

“i can’t believe you chucked us both in the water with nothing to dry ourselves off with.” you groaned, glaring at neteyam playfully who shrugged innocently- more time with you that meant.

you sat down on a nearby rock that was by the large pond, neteyam following sitting right in front of you. waiting for yourselves to dry off. neteyam looked at you, you were still shivering- hugging your legs for warmth. he slid forward on the rock a bit, sliding an arm around your should bringing you closer to him- he rubbed your arm in comfort.

you melted into his touch, how was he so warm after getting out of the cold pond?- whilst you were still freezing. “you’re warm.”

he chuckled looking down at you, “you’re cold.”

you glared up at him, rolling your eyes. “maybe because you threw me into a cold pond?” he sighed, playfully pulling away from you- you missed the warmth of his body as soon as he did so, “okay, okay i’m sorry- please come back.” he laughed sliding back over, engulfing you in his arms once more.

it all felt so right, you in his arms. you silently wished to stay like this for the rest of your life, in his arms. neteyam too wished the same thing.

he stroked your hair gently, running his fingers through its dampness- you closed your eyes slowly, enjoying the head massage. neteyam smiled as he saw your peaceful expression, all he ever wanted to do was make you happy- and he wanted to do that for the rest of his life.

he continued to run his fingers through your hair, a comforting silence falling over the two of you. the only noise coming from the flowing water from the small waterfall that lead into the pond.

“thank you.” neteyam suddenly said, breaking the silence- which you were quite confused at what he was thanking you about.

opening your eyes, looking at neteyam with a confused expression. “for what?”

for what? for everything you did, for being alive, for being you- there were so many things he could thank you about. “for being there for me like today. it’s good to have some fun, training has made me have less free time lately- it may be selfish but, i miss it.”

your face softened as you sat up, removing your head from his shoulder. you knew he his father had been going harder on him than usual as he was coming quicker to the age of where he would become olo'eyktan- you suddenly felt like he needed a hug, or maybe you just wanted to be close to him. you didn’t really know. you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, holding his head with one hand the other around his neck.

neteyam hadn't realised how much he needed a hug until now, breathing in your scent that he knows by heart now. wrapping his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"i miss having you around too," you whispered into his neck, it sent shivers down his spine. you pulled away slightly so you could see neteyam's face, you pushed away a loose braid that always fell in front of his face. "and it is not selfish to want something, nete."

neteyam stared into your eyes, he swore he could drown in them and he would be completely content with going down like that. your words echoed in his mind, it is not selfish to want something- he wanted you to be his and him to be yours until the end of time itself- he yearned for you so much it hurt whenever he saw you speak to another male in the clan, he knew it was selfish of him but he only wanted you to speak to him. he wanted to be the one to show you the wonders of the world, he wanted to be the one who got to kiss your lips at night, he wanted to be the one whose name you whispered in the dark. neteyam sully wanted you and only you.

"is it selfish of me to want you?" his voice was quiet, in a whisper as the two of you held each others eyes. your mouth parted slightly, not sure if you had heard him right. had neteyam sully, the boy you had been in love with since young just speak those words? "is it selfish to want to be the only one that can look at you?"

"no." your voice was in a whisper, matching his. his eyes trailed down to your lips then back to your eyes- you had not missed it.

he reached out his hand placing it on your chin, gently pulling your face closer to his. you didn't fight it at all, you leaned in closer. your lips grazing each others. "good." he whispered against your lips, breaking the small gap between the two of you.

as your lips met his a spark appeared within you, whispering that this was meant to be. the kiss was short but was passionate, the two of your first kisses. neteyam loved that he was the one to be your first kiss and yours his.

the two of you broke away slowly, staring into each others eyes which were filled with desire and love. "you're so beautiful." he said as he pressed his lips to yours once again- this kiss was not like the first one, it was more messy, your lips chasing one another. he continued to kiss you, deepening the kiss as his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap- now straddling him with your legs. "is this okay?" he asked softly, searching your face for any slight bit of uncomfortableness- but there was none.

you smiled, cupping his jaw in your hand, leaning into him. "more than okay, nete." was this what heaven felt like?- that is what neteyam was asking himself, because this was heaven.

his name against your tongue as you kissed him- eywa, it was enough to make him fall limp. his hand was on your lower back, supporting you so you didn't fall as he slid his tongue into your mouth. the other hand on your jaw softly. your hands found it way to his braids, tanginling your fingers in them- trying to pull him closer to you.

his lips began to trail down your neck, earning slight whimpers from you. it was the most beautiful sound neteyam had ever heard in his life. "keep making those noises." it came out without thinking as he continued to suck on your neck- you were embarrassed by the whimpers that escaped your mouth, but when neteyam said that you felt all the embarrassment slip away.

he pulled away from your neck, smirking as he saw the marks he left scattered across it. "neteyam," you hissed, "people are going to see those, you skxqwng." though, you weren't sure if you actually cared.

he grinned at your annoyed expression, "then they will see you are mine." you couldn't help but smile at what he said.

that was when you decided to make it official, it was the biggest decision of your life- you had been told that it would be a hard one to make as you would be with the one you bonded with for life. but, this was the easiest decision you had made in your life.

you slowly grabbed your braid that fell behind your back, bringing it forward to neteyam. his mouth fell slightly agape, looking up to you. "are you sure?" he asked, worried you may regret it later- he knew he would in fact never regret it, he didn't want you to though.

"neteyam, i have never been so sure of anything before." you smiled softly at him, that was all neteyam needed- he grabbed his queue and brought it forward with his hand your queues mere inches away from one another.

the two of you looked at one other, as you brought your queues to the other. the tsaheylu was formed.

both you and neteyam's breath hitched and pupils dilated as you looked from the bond to one another- you had never felt anything like this before, you could feel him, everything. his breath, heart beat, his feelings to you.

"i see you, y/n." neteyam breathed out, you swore you had never been happier- and neteyam could feel how happy you were when he spoke the words through the bond which made him smile.

"i see you, neteyam."

eywa had heard the two of your wishes and answered them. you and neteyam sully were now one, mated for life.

#neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar way of water #avatar #avatar way of water spoilers #way of water #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully x reader #sully family #neteyam imagine #neteyam scenario #na'vi x reader #na'vi #na’vi #neteyam smut

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crvptidgf · 7 months

Text

Sharp Kisses

Mattheo Riddle x Reader (smut)

➸ summary: after begging Mattheo to mark you as his, he finally gives in

➸ warnings/notes: MAJOR TW & MDNI 18+, self-injury (ish), mentions of cutting & being cut, smut w/ little to no plot, p in v sex, heavy petting, oral (f! receiving), knifeplay?

➸ requested?: yes ↴ (i changed it up a bit in the fic)

- mattheo carves his name into reader’s upper thigh and one day she walks into his room and sees him coming out of the shower with her name cut on HIS ABS (requested by 💜 anon)

A/N: reader discretion is advised, i am not responsible for the media that you intake. i also do not condone any of the actions that are partaken in this, it is merely fiction. if you struggle with sh or self-destructive behaviors, please talk to someone. my inbox is always open!

word count: 1.2k

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GRABBING THE SHEETS harshly, your head was thrown back onto the pillows, breath uneven. There was a chance that your panting could be heard all the way down to the common room if it weren’t for the silencing charm put on the room.

Mattheo’s mouth was wrapped around you, his tongue flicking upwards, side-to-side, in circular motions. His movements were never-ending, not that you wanted him to stop. He pulled away momentarily, saliva connecting his mouth to your lips.

He only stared at you as he licked one long stripe upwards, collecting all your juices before diving back in. It wasn’t long before his soft hands began gripping the flesh of your thighs, practically suffocating himself between your legs. He picked up his pace, his moans reverberating into you as he reveled in your taste.

Your legs gave out, weakening under the feeling of your climax making it’s way up. Mattheo held onto you for dear life, supporting the weight of your limbs that rested on his shoulders. Once he was satisfied with the sight of you shaking under him, your hands pulling his head away from your sensitive area, he raised his head up.

He really never failed to pull your release from you.

You looked at him as you tried to catch your breath, trying not to pass out at the sight of his messed up hair and glistening chin. His lips were bright pink, the corners of them perking up upon making eye contact.

“You doing okay up there?” he mused as his breath fanned right over where he was previously buried.

“Mattheo,” you whined, “stop teasing.”

His hands rubbed soothing shapes into the back of your thighs which were hooked around his shoulder. Your pussy throbbed with every gust of air that hit you due to the quick breaths that Mattheo took. He continued to stare at you, not saying a word.

“You know,” you said, inhaling deeply as you tried to slow your heart rate, “it would be better if you used the knife on me.”

His breath fanned across your thighs as he sighed and pushed himself up, giving you a warning stare. “Love, we talked about this.”

“I know,” you practically groaned, “but can’t we try it. Just once? Maybe you’ll like it.”

Mattheo sat up fully now as he leaned over your face, his hands on either side of your head. He thought for a moment before he finally gave into your puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine. But if it’s too much, tell me to stop,” he said, his lips meeting your forehead in a hurried kiss.

The drawer beside your bed opened as he grabbed his wand, casting ‘Accio’ so he could get the dagger that you bought that rested on your desk across the room. You had been prepared for this, knowing that one day you would get to finally try out your fantasy.

Mattheo took a deep breath, asking if you were sure. Once he got a breathy ‘yes, please’ he began to slowly make work with you.

He knew how much you wanted this, and in all honesty so did he. What he was afraid of was doing too much, or causing you more pain than you could handle. He could never forgive himself if he out you in harms way.

Your breath hitched as the cold metal touched against your abdomen. It slowly travelled across your ribs, up your chest, and to your breasts. The tip of the knife touched the plump skin of your tit, and you shuddered with excitement as you closed your eyes.

“So good for me,” Mattheo whispered as he dragged the blade back down your body. He pushed it further than your pelvis, wanting to explore your thighs as he made his way down to your legs.

He pressed chaste, wet kisses along your inner thighs as he played with the blade a bit more, experimenting with how deep he could press it without causing any harm. Pulling it along your inner thigh, he added a slight pressure, causing a moan to ripple from your throat.

Now that he knew how much you enjoyed it, maybe he could get used to this.

“Mattheo,” you said, your moans mixing in with the call of his name. “Make me yours.”

He cocked his head to the side, confused. “But you are mine, baby.”

You lifted your head to look at him, lust filling every corner of your eyes.

“Write your name into me,” you breathed out.

Mattheo’s head shot up. He definitely did not expect to hear that. Of course, the thought aroused him more than it should’ve, but he was also nervous. You were putting a lot of trust into him and he didn’t want to break it. For you, though, he would do anything.

“Fuck,” he muttered through gritted teeth. This was way more erotic than he had imagined.

He slid the blunt edge of the dagger across your clit before bringing the tip to the other side of your thigh. “Okay,” he said, “but-“

“If it’s too much, i’ll tell you to stop,” you nodded, your head already falling back onto the pillows.

Mattheo kissed soft, quick kisses along your pussy, teasing you before diving straight in. His tongue was slow and meticulous, licking across the most sensitive parts of you which he knew like the back of his hand.

You felt the knife begin to slice through your skin - not enough to leave a scar, but enough that you would be marked up for a few days. The thought that only you and him would be able to see it send a strong pulse throughout your pussy.

Mattheo smiled into you, his eyes peeking to the side to make sure he wasn’t cutting too deep. He pulled away from you for a second to lick into your entrance before coming back up to suck on you.

The feeling of his lips wrapped around, combined with the sharp tip of the knife was sending you over the edge. You tried to guess what letter he was on now, but you couldn’t focus if you even tried.

Your mewls and pants were all that could be heard in the room. Mattheo looked up again, his hand curving so that he could make the ‘o’ at the end of his name.

His hand came to replace his mouth as he drew circles onto your sensitive nub.

Mattheo’s tongue swiped against the new cut, your blood coating his tongue as he licked it up. Your injury was starting to hurt a bit, but with Mattheo’s saliva entering the mix, it soothed the pain slightly.

It wasn’t long before your orgasm overtook you, and you were a mumbling, idiotic mess under him.

Shit, he should’ve just done this a long time ago.

- - - - -

You were now bouncing up and down Mattheo’s length, his fingertips gripping into your hipbones as he held you in place, his hips coming up to meet with yours. He fucked up into you, his mind reeling with pleasure before an idea popped into his head.

It had been a week since the first used the knife on you, and he was curious.

“Cut your name into me,” he said, his breaths heavy as he stared at you with half-lidded eyes.

You rolled your head back, his demand causing you to feel a certain way that you had never felt before. He had never sounded hotter than he did right now.

“Where,” you gasped as his dick hit the perfect spot inside of you.

Mattheo’s hands gripped your hips as he grinded you on top of him now, halting your bouncy movements. “My abs. I know how much you love them, baby.”

- - - - -

#mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo riddle x you #hp fanfic #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fancast #harry potter fandom #harry potter oneshot

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hexiewrites · 1 year

Text

craving some validation today, so here, have a little preview of what I'm working on this week:

“Harrington, hey! Harrington, Mark Donahue from CBC Sports. Great to see you out here tonight, first game as a rookie, right?” Steve grimaced a little and shifted his helmet to his other hand as the mic was shoved in his face. The team was stalled at the entrance to the rink, likely waiting as the Bruins were introduced and did their skate out. Still, he didn’t really need this right now. “Hey, yeah man. Thanks, look, I’m just trying to-” “We’ll be quick, Harrington, don’t worry about it. How are you feeling tonight? Your dad’s in the audience, eh? Is he excited to see his son play his first ever NHL game?” Steve grimaced slightly at the thought but forced his face into something close to a smile. “Sure, yeah, yep. Really, uh. Really excited for us to win tonight.” The interviewer–Donahue–laughed. It didn’t sound friendly. “Ah, got it! So you gotta get a win for the old man, eh? Of course. And, is there anyone on the Bruins tonight that has you worried? Maybe someone like Eddie Munson?” Steve couldn’t stop the frown that tugged his eyebrows down. He’d sat through all the media training, yeah. Smile and nod, just here to support my team, the regular nonsense. But really? His first night on the big ice and they were asking him about Munson?

(while you wait you can always reread carve your name into my chest for your steddie hockey fill ;))

update: you can now read it here

#steddie hockey au #carve your name into my chest #hexiewrites #hex writes stuff #my stuff #a lil snippet for everyone!#im so excited about this fic you guys #like ive been having SO much fun with it #i have gotten uh very carried away #we're at 11k right now and i'm not done yet #shhh it's fine #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

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illyrianbitch · 2 months

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Where I Left My Lover

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: After a brush with death, Azriel makes a difficult decision to protect you.

Warnings: angst!!!! & bad decisions.

Word Count: 3.8k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

With a forceful push, the door to Rhysand’s office swung open as Nesta swept into the room, eyes blazed with a fury that made Azriel swallow. Cassian’s loud footsteps echoed as he followed after his mate.

"Tell me it isn't true," she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

Rhysand moved to intercept her, his hand outstretched in a futile attempt to stop her from her warpath. "Nesta, perhaps we should—"

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Nesta shoved him away with a forceful gesture, her gaze fixed on Azriel. The shadowsinger stood eerily still, even his shadows unmoving.

"Azriel," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "Tell me it isn't true."

His gaze faltered, and suddenly he found himself unable to meet Nesta's accusing, burning stare. He looked away, his shadows curling into themselves behind him, as if retreating in shame.

Nesta's anger flared, hands clenching at her side. She breathed out sharply, the sound a mixture of frustration and rage. Whipping around to face Rhysand, she leveled a searing gaze at him.

"I expect something like this from you," she spat, her tone laced with contempt.

Rhysand's expression hardened into a withering glare, but before he could respond, Nesta turned back to Azriel. "But you?" she continued, her voice dripping with disappointment. "You're supposed to be better than this."

Azriel's jaw tightened as he grit his teeth together. From behind Nesta, he watched as Cassian approached, staring at him with a frown and furrowed brows. Azriel looked back to Nesta.

“You don’t understand-”

"I don't care," she retorted, her tone icy. "You cannot do this. Not to Y/n."

At the mention of your name, Azriel's heart clenched, a wave of sadness washing over him like a relentless tide. He swallowed hard.

"This is for Y/n," he responded, his voice low. Flat. "To keep her safe."

"That is not your decision to make," Nesta snarled, "You are stripping her of her right to choose, and you know deep down she wouldn't want this."

There was something about the way Nesta spoke, how she stared at him with such disappointment, that made him angry. Azriel was making the right decision. He was being selfless, yet everyone was seeing it the other way, seeing him as some monster.

Within seconds, his control slipped, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he took a step forward, his eyes flashing with a dark intensity. "She almost died!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with desperation. "She almost died because of me. I don't care what she wants. I'm doing this to keep her safe."

Cassian moved quickly, placing a firm hand on Nesta's shoulder. “Watch it,” he growled as he met Azriel's gaze.

Azriel blinked. And then he was composing himself once more, moving back into a straight posture. "I'm doing this because I love her," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with sorrow.

"No," Nesta said, her voice sharp. "This is not love. This is wrong. And if you go through with it, I'll never let you forget it."

As Nesta turned to leave, Azriel felt a pang of regret gnaw at his heart. A wave of guilt washed over him at the realization that he had disappointed someone he cared about so deeply. He truly cared about Nesta, respected her strength and conviction, and the thought of her walking away, angry and disillusioned, made him sick to his stomach. Had he lost two people today? Was he truly doing the right thing?

Yes, he reminded himself. Images of you conjured in his brain— your pale, bruised and bloody body, the way you laid limp in his arms. He thought back to how he’d relished in the screams of the soldiers who had tortured you, how he took his time carving them out for what they had done. He thought about how long you’d been in that bed, unmoving with shallow breaths, how scared he’d been that he’d lost you. You were human. You were something he could lose. And his life, his duties, had almost cost him your life.

Azriel looked up to meet Rhysands gaze, who had been standing in quiet observation, making no move to talk or intervene. Azriel had already spoken to Rhys, had gotten the same discussion from him. His gaze flickered to Cassian, who was shaking his head as he stared out of the door his mate had left through.

“Nes is right,” Cassian said, “I mean, we’ve done our fair share of questionable things, but this?”

He paused for a moment, eyes darting between his two brothers.

“It’s what needs to be done,” Azriel said.

Cassian shook his head. “No. It’s what you think needs to be done. And you’re wrong.”

Azriel let out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched.

“Rhys,” Cass said, turning to face the High Lord. “C’mon. You know better than this. You really think this is okay?”

Rhysand held his gaze. For a moment, Cass believed he’d gotten through to his brother, that perhaps he’d realized how far this was going to go, how wrong Azriel was. But Rhysand simply straightened his posture.

“I’m not a part of this,” was all he responded.

Cass shook his head once more, poking a finger into Rhysand’s chest.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Az has lost his goddsdamned mind. Why are you entertaining this?”

It was Azriel who moved next, walking up to Cassian and pushing him away with a small shove. He gave a snarl, shadows swirling around his forearms. Cass looked down at the hand pressed against his chest, and then up at Azriel with flared nostrils and a look of deep disappointment in his eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel growled, “You think this is something I want to do?”

Cassian pushed him off.

“I think you’ve lost sight of what is fear and what is reason.”

“Enough,” Rhysand commanded, walking to the two males to separate them with his extended hands. He turned to Cassian and let out a small exhale. Cass saw it, then, the sadness in his eyes.

“In the centuries that Azriel has been a part of this family, a part of this court, he has not asked for favors. He has asked me now, and I owe it to him.”

Cassian let out a small scoff. It was a losing game. They were all stubborn— it came with their lineage, with their dna. So he settled at casting Azriel another glance and frowned.

"This is selfish, Az," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "She is not only yours. She’s family. She’s Nesta’s friend. She’s my friend—"

Something flickered in Azriel's eyes, a weariness settling over him as he grew tired of defending his actions. "Do you want her as a friend or do you want her alive?"

Cassian slightly recoiled, a small tick in his jaw. “That’s not fair.”

“Cassian,” Rhys said slowly, “Leave.”

Cassian rubbed his jaw, a heavy anger simmering beneath his skin as he shot one last glare at Azriel. "Whatever," he muttered in disappointment, "I can’t even look at you."

And with that, he turned and stalked out of the room.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The soft chirping of birds filled the air, the sounds a gentle caress against Azriel’s skin. The beauty around him stood out in stark contrast to the heavy silence that hung over him like a suffocating cloak. He’d always loved your little home, loved how secluded it was, how quiet. Everything was slower here, more timid, more calm.

You were inside with Rhysand, now, and Azriel could hear the faint echo of your voices. It didn’t last long. Within moments it went quiet, and Az clenched his fists at his side.

The longer he lingered outside, the more he felt the pull of your presence, the echo of your touch haunting him like a ghost. Azriel fought every urge to run back inside, to hold you and kiss you again like he had moments prior. It wasn't long enough. He should have taken another minute, another hour. But he knew, deep down, it would never be enough, that it would never be the right time. The longer he spent with you, the longer he felt your touch, it broke him even more.

Azriel’s shadows pulled at him, wrapping around his ankles as if to pull him back inside. He scolded them, his wings twitching as he slightly kicked his feet. They swarmed once more. They were angry at him too. Azriel knew this. He felt it in their touch, in the way they’d whisper. He did his best to ignore it.

He wasn’t being selfish. He was putting you first.

There was a faint creak as the door opened behind him. Swiftly, he turned around, his eyes locking with Rhysand's as his brother stepped out and closed the door behind him with a deliberate slowness.

Rhysand gave Azriel a small, curt nod. "It's done.”

Azriel's chest tightened, a lump forming in the back of his throat. "Is she-" he began, his voice catching in his throat.

“She’s alright.”

There was a heavy ache in Azriel’s chest now, something tender like an open wound. His heart felt hollow. Empty. He looked down at the ground, at the shadows at his feet, and tightly shut his eyes.

Rhysand’s face softened. “Az,” he started, but Azriel simply shook his head.

"Don't," he whispered hoarsely. And before Rhysand could respond, he disappeared.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel stood outside the small inn, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated at the threshold. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't risk drawing attention to himself or risk the chance of undoing what he’d chosen to do. But the pull of his own longing had been too strong to resist. He’d lasted longer than expected, but even then, he’d been in agony. He was restless, angry, and above all else, he was lonely.

With a deep breath, he adjusted his posture, making a mental check of the glamour he’d put around himself, concealing his wings and any other identifying features of his. Even with the cover, he kept his wings tightly folded against his back, just in case something went awry.

And then he entered, casting a wary glance around the room as he made his way through the crowded floor. His hands were tucked securely in his pockets, his shadows coiled around him like protective tendrils. He’d done his best to make them blend into the black material of his clothing, told them to stay put and ripple like fabric would.

Finding a small table in the corner, Azriel made his way over, but as he lowered himself into the seat, a nagging voice in the back of his mind warned him of the folly of his actions. This was stupid, dangerous, and entirely self-indulgent. Dangerous, dangerous, his shadows echoed. He tightened his jaw. He would only be here for a few moments, he told himself, he just wanted to see you— once. That was all.

His shadows whispered louder, a small anxious buzz in his head. He needed to leave before it was too late.

But before he could make a move, he looked up and froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“Hello,” you said timidly, giving him a small smile. Azriel’s heart leapt as the sound, a sudden rush of warmth filling his veins. Your hair was shorter now than the last time he saw you, and you wore a few dainty gold chains around your neck that he’d never seen. Had you bought those recently? Made them with your friends? They looked beautiful on you. And you had so much color. You looked alive. You looked happy.

A moment passed as Azriel simply stared at you, and then he was shaking his head slightly, freeing himself of the daze he had fallen into.

“Uh, hi- hello.”

It was then he finally noticed the two small glasses in your hands, both filled slightly with an amber liquid. You followed his gaze, looking down at your own hands. You frowned slightly and then you extended one towards him.

“I’m not sure why I brought this,” you admitted, “But here. This is for you.”

Azriel swallowed, gently reaching out to take the small cup from your hands. His fingers brushed against your skin ever so slightly and he nearly jumped at the contact, a tingling sensation filling his body. Your brows furrowed as you observed his hands, your gaze tracing over the perfectly smoothed, tan skin.

He had them glamoured too, just to be safe.

He watched as you blinked, your expression shifting with a mixture of confusion, as if you sensed something wrong. A wave of sickening guilt rolled through his stomach. His shadows circled at his feet— subtly enough that they’d blend in to the darkness of the cornered floor, but strong enough to where Azriel felt them, pawing at him like dogs to an owner.

“Thank you,” Azriel finally brought himself to say.

Your gaze instantly flickered back to his eyes. You scanned his face, taking in his features, the brown of his eyes. And then you gave him another smile, a small blush forming on your cheeks. You looked over to the empty seat in front of him.

"Do you mind?"

Azriel felt a surge of flustered panic coursing through him, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to compose himself. "Oh, yes, of course, please," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He readjusted himself in his own chair.

As you settled into the seat across from him, Azriel couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He watched, mesmerized, as you took a small sip from the glass, the soft curve of your lips bringing back every memory he’d held of them.

He watched as you scanned the crowd. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away, to break the spell. This would only make things worse for him. But try as he might, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, couldn't tear himself away from indulging in your presence. It took every ounce of restraint within him not to lean forward, to reach out and caress you.

You caught Azriel's gaze as he quickly averted his eyes, a small laugh escaping your lips at his sudden shyness. "I'm sorry for interrupting your quiet time," you said.

Azriel shifted in his seat. "No," he replied, a bit too quickly, his voice catching in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, I don't mind."

You smiled, a warmth in your eyes that made his heart flutter– something just as painful as it was comforting.

"This may sound silly, but it feels like I was supposed to come talk to you," you confessed, your voice soft.

A tug in his chest. “Really?"

"Yes," you replied, your gaze drifting momentarily to the crowd before returning to him. "I'm quite good at listening. Maybe you need a good ear."

Azriel chuckled softly. You always were great at listening, even better at talking, too. It was a perfect balance. He’d always loved that about you. Your presence was so calming, so quiet compared to the loudmouths he called family, even if he loved them dearly. He missed it, how gentle you were.

"I don't know if that's what I need.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a curious expression. "What brought you here today?"

Azriel thought for a moment, his gaze falling to his glass as he traced a finger along its rim. He knew he couldn't hide the truth from you, not when you were always so good at reading him, so stubborn at getting what you really wanted.

After a brief pause, he finally admitted, "A girl."

Your eyes lit up with interest, a smile gracing your lips as you leaned in slightly. "Yeah?" you asked, “She somebody special?”

Azriel met your gaze, attempting to muster a smile, but a lump formed in his throat, choking back the words he struggled to say. He bounced his knee nervously under the table. “She was. I can’t seem to let her go.”

Your frown deepened at the admission, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart. "I'm sorry," you murmured.

But Azriel quickly shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips as he reassured you, "It's alright."

Silence enveloped you for a moment.

"She was the love of my life," Azriel said, his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. He glanced up at you, instantly finding your attentive gaze that met his own.

You remained quiet, but he knew the look on your face. Eyes wide, slight furrowed brows, a small smile. You were urging him to continue, waiting for him to finish, to be heard.

"Beautiful, kind, funny," he continued, his voice soft with reverence. "Also a great listener."

As he spoke, memories of moments shared with you flooded his mind, each beautiful and painful in their own rite, a haunting sense of longing drowning his senses.

You gave a small breathy laugh.

"No wonder you can't let her go," you said. There was a ting of sadness in your gentle voice. Azriel wondered what it was for.

"Yeah," he agreed softly, his gaze drifting back to his glass.

Silence settled between you once more, the air heavy with every unspoken thought and emotion that Azriel felt. He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he let it slip. But before he could stop himself, Azriel looked up, his gaze searching yours as he asked, "Have you ever felt that way?"

You paused, caught off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation. For a moment, you opened your mouth to respond, but the words eluded you, leaving you with a furrowed brow and a frown of uncertainty.

You slumped slightly in your chair, a heaviness settling over you as you admitted, "No, I haven't."

Azriel's heart sank at your response, a pang of disappointment coursing through him despite his efforts to suppress it. He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that there might have been a glimmer of memory within you, somewhere deep in your bones that recognized him.

He didn’t know why he pressed further, didn’t know why he couldn’t stop himself from talking. He felt his shadows slowly rising from his feet, now surrounding his thighs. He pushed them back.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

A part of him dared to hope yet again, to cling to the possibility that you feel the same yearning, the same ache that he’d felt for years. But even as he spoke the words, another part of him recoiled in shame, knowing that he had no right to ask, no right to expect anything from you. He had dug his own grave. This was his doing. This was his choice— and he was being selfish. He was being so utterly selfish as he sat there before you.

Still, the longing lingered, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of his own self-imposed exile. But as he watched you, the sadness etched in your features, he knew that his hopes had been in vain.

Your gaze met his, troubled and uncertain, and you hesitated before answering, "I— No. I don't think I have."

Azriel felt a wave of sadness wash over him at your response, a deep ache settling in his chest. His heart was burning now, a pain that made him queasy, made him want to cry and scream at the same time. He decided this was worst than any torture– having to sit across from you as a stranger, as someone who was unable to touch you, hold you, tell you how beautiful you looked, and listen to you say you’d never been in love. Because you had been. You were deeply in love, so in love it scared you both.

A hot anger filled him. He mourned his old life. He mourned his future with you. You were something real. He had something real. But his past, his duty, his life, it had prevented him from keeping it all, from indulging in a life much simpler than his own, one where he could sit across from you in a run-down inn and watch drunken village males make bets with one another.

But it was still his fault. He had done this. And you sat before him, a look of frustration on your face, as if you could feel something was off. Shame filled him. He needed to leave.

Quickly he brought his cup to his lips and chugged the remainder of his drink, the burn of alcohol a bitter sensation that he welcomed with open arms.

"Thank you for the company," Azriel said as he pushed himself up from the table.

Your gaze followed him, a flicker of concern in your eyes as you watched him rise. "You're leaving?" you asked with a frown.

Azriel nodded, his movements stiff as he straightened his posture. "It was very nice meeting you," he replied, his voice strained as he turned to go.

But before he could take another step, you spoke again, your words stopping him in his tracks. "Wait," you said, the chair sliding on the floor as you stood.

Azriel turned back to face you, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited your next words. It was getting harder to breathe now, his heartbeat shuddering in his ears. He needed to leave.

"I hope that one day I'll experience a love like that," you said, pausing for a moment. With a soft, but hesitant, smile, you continued, "That one day, someone will love me like you loved her."

A flicker of surprise crossed Azriel's features. His mouth fell open slightly as he took a sharp inhale. And then he was swallowing heavily, blinking away the pressure building up behind his eyes.

“You will,” he responded, his voice a slight croak. He cleared his throat, looking to the floor for a second. Then, his gaze was holding yours for a lingering moment. "Goodbye, Y/n.”

You watched his retreating figure with a small smile on your lips. But then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, a realization struck you. You frowned.

Your feet moved of their own accord, propelling you forward faster than your mind could process. You dashed to the entrance, flinging open the door as sunlight flooded your vision, momentarily blinding you.

"Wait! How did you know my—" you began, the words catching in your throat as you stepped outside, your eyes scanning the area in search of Azriel's retreating form. But to your dismay, there was no one there, no trace of him to be found, only the empty street stretched out before you, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun.

Your voice trailed off into a whisper as you finished your sentence, "name.”

Your name.

How did he know your name?

Frowning, you brought a hand to your chest, feeling a small burning fluttering sensation in your ribs. With a sigh, you bit the inside of your cheek. You turned around and made your way back inside, your heart now heavy with a sensation you didn’t quite know how to name.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: since in death & his reaper azriel forgot about reader, i obvs had to balance the scales and write one where the reader forgets az. we luv angst!!! hope y’all enjoyed 🫶🏻

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction

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polarisjisung · 4 months

Text

KISSES WITH NCT DREAM

pairings: nct dream × fem! reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of giving hickeys (for jeno) + reader is implied to have long(ish) hair + use of pet names

notes: a little different to usual but i want to post more often and I love reading these little headcanons! although I do need to switch it up from all the fluff 🫠

MARK-cozy morning kisses:

mark loves lazy mornings, holding you by the waist to make sure you don't have a chance to escape the warmth of the duvet you're all wrapped up in. sure your hair's a little messy but mark loves the domesticity of waking up next to you. you'll make every attempt to make your way out of the confines of your shared double bed but mark ultimately wins, shutting you up with a kiss when he feels like you're talking too much

"mark baby, please I have work" mark could not care less— really, they should've made it illegal to work weekends

"you have a boyfriend too" he'd tuck the hair falling from your ponytail behind your ear and you're a sucker for the way he'd let his palm rest over your cheek as he pulls you into his chest underneath the covers

"markie, I'll get fired" you know you'd lost the battle the second mark let his eyes land on your lips, the ones that were still shining from the left over lip mask you'd applied the night before, but you still try to bolt out of the covers as fast as you can, undoubtedly you'll get pulled back in by mark just a few seconds later

"don't run from me baby" he's all pouty, you know its all just a facade to get a couple extra minutes in bed with you but saying no to mark just wasn't one of your capabilities

when you finally sigh in defeat,

"just 5 minutes" with a roll of your eyes, he's peppering sweet kisses all over your face, placing a couple pecks on your lips too

"I'll take 5 minutes"

best believe he'll take a lot more than just 5

RENJUN-stupid adorable smiley kisses:

kisses with renjun start out ever so gentle, a quick touch of your lips before he's checking to see your reaction. doesn't matter how long you've been dating, renjun still gives you butterflies every damn time, and he's the same with you, all giddy and kicking his feet, so you both start out so smiley against each other's lips, soft and sweet. on occasion renjun likes to go for deep, more meaningful passionate kisses, and the second you see his starry eyes staring up at you, grin formed into a soft smile, you know his hand is going to reach for your jaw and his lips are going to move rushed against yours

there's a sparkle in his eyes, a glint that tells you renjun won't stop at a few pecks— naturally you don't mind at all

"my love?" he coos, looking up at you, taking in your features as though he's trying to commit every detail of your pretty face to memory, your moles, the shape of your lips and your sparkling eyes, he would memorise it all in that very moment

you swear he looks at you as though you've painted the sky and hung the stars, and every time you catch yourself wondering what you've done to be lucky enough to deserve him

"I love you" as those words slip so effortlessly out of his lips, he'll guide you with a hand against the back of your head to meet his lips again, with more urgency this time

"I love you too" you'd breathe out, an oppurtunity you'd never miss

JENO-neck kisses

jeno loves your lips, kisses, pecks, full on make out sessions— he doesn't mind. but every time he finds your hair tied back and your neck on display he sees it as the perfect chance to show that you're absolutely not single, very much taken in fact. jeno finds joy in carving his initials into your neck or leaving small, unintentional patterns behind sucking and gently biting at the warm skin on your neck. the kisses eventually trail their way up across the bone of your jaw, his hands tugging at the ends of your hair as he twirls it between his fingers. jeno wants it all, quick kisses will do if you're out and about but the second you're home, kissing is at least a 20 minute task.

when you're out, be it hanging out with friends or running errands together, especially in the summer, when you like to tie your hair back a lot more frequently, jeno finds himself going absolutely feral, he's like a child begging his mother to go home

your back is against the wall the second you step through the door, jeno's lips impatiently capturing yours. he's a literal animal, he'll devour any lipstick you're wearing like it was never even there, before his kisses land on your collarbone.

"knew what you were doing when you tied your hair up baby hmm?" jeno likes to think you do it on purpose, to mess with him just a little, admittedly you do, but if you could be honest it had been solely unintentional this time

"come on jeno" your hands land on his chest, almost avoiding the hungry search of his lips for the skin of your neck "didn't know you were so needy"

you like to tease him, his cute agitated kisses becoming a little more intense at your words

equally jeno finds no shame in just how crazy he is for you

"needy for you baby, only you"

something about his urgency mixed with his loyalty forces you to forget about the hickeys you'll spend hours covering up over the next few weeks

HAECHAN- tip of your nose kisses:

haechan loves a makeout session as much as the next person, and despite his forward and bold attitude, sometimes the hard-core kisses just aren't what he's looking for. his favourite solution? kissing the tip of your nose, he likes booping your nose here and there as it is, but in his softest moments, where you find his eyes staring your way in pure awe, haechan's eyes travel to the tip of your nose immediately. it doesn't take long for his lips to follow— a tentative kiss to make sure you're in the mood to be absolutely bombarded with his love

forehead kisses are a close second, and eventually haechan gives in to delicate tender kisses on your lips, his fingers interlaced with yours

"have I ever told you I love you?" kisses with haechan are playful, so you can always tell he's in the mood when that adorable toothy grin shines it's way at you

"multiple times hyuck, every day actually" you'd respond, so giggly that he swears he's falling in love with you all over again, he's not sure if it's possible quite frankly, considering he thinks the same thought everyday

"that's what you deserve baby, I love you" he'd waddle his way over to you on the sofa, that smirk on his face that tells you everything you need to know— the kiss lands perfectly in the centre of your nose, your face soon hidden away in your hands

"don't get shy on me now baby, you know what I wanna hear" he's already trying to get another look at your pretty eyes and when he successfully gets your hands to slide down your face, places a chaste kiss to your forehead

"I love you too hyuck"

"can't hear you buttercup, you're gonna have to show me that pretty face so I can lip read" he's a little too proud of his words, and when you do let your hands down, his lips are all over yours

JAEMIN-lip gloss kisses:

jaemin is a sucker for those shiny, perfect glossy lips of yours, he's a sucker for you full stop, but your lips are practically a superpower.

now jaemin hates strawberries but that pretty pink lip gloss of yours with a little shimmer and that strawberry scent is his absolute favourite, he swears it makes your eyes pop 10x more it's perfect— you're perfect

he loves showering you with affection, be it hugs or kisses, holding your hand or whispering sweet nothings into your ear, jaemin treats you like an absolute princess and when his princess is all dressed up and so absolutely gorgeous, he can't help but ask for one thing for himself. not that jaemin doesn't love seeing you lounging around casually, he thinks you look gorgeous all the time, but seeing the confidence that oozes from your being when you're ready for a big event has his stomach doing backflips

his arms wrap around your waist quicker than you can twist the tube of your lip gloss shut— really there was no point going through your extensive lip combo routine because you should've known jaemin would eat it all up

"my sweet sweet girl, do you think I could have a kiss?" jaemin likes to get extra affectionate in these moments, clinging to you with a smile that reaches his eyes, just to make sure there's no way you can say no

"but nana my lip gloss" you're always trying to make excuses, really it was just because lip products were starting to get expensive, but you don't mind blowing more money on them if it meant you'd have a love like jaemin

"hmm, I'll buy more for you, just give me a kiss pretty please?"

you only make one more attempt at stalling, you know better that you're not winning this battle

"but nana it'll get all over you"

he shrugs, so unbothered you swear you hear your heartbeat ring in your ears

"I like it like that"

jaemin loves the way you tenderly hold his face before you seal his lips in a kiss, when you pull away his lips are glittery and pink just like yours, but his smile seems to have grown ten fold

"you look so pretty nana, my princess" he nods

"your princess, all yours" before locking your lips against his once again

CHENLE-spiderman kisses:

chenle loves the movie, chenle loves you, to him it just made sense and the spiderman kiss has easily become his favourite way to greet you as he walked through the door.

most days chenle would find you seated on the couch, finishing up a project for work when he'd get home, his hand would wrap under your chin and slightly over your neck with ease, lips locking with yours momentarily

"I missed you" he'd whisper, every time as he pulled away from you, placing his things down to a side and slipping into the empty space beside you. his arm would find its rightful place resting over your shoulder before his lips would brush over yours again

"I missed you too"

the both of you would bask in the warm intimacy of the moment, something between you, only for you, that the both of you would secretly look forward to day in and day out

to chenle that was enough, that daily welcome home kiss was practically routine and it was a routine he'd grown used to, practically to the point where when he'd walk in and you weren't working away at a desk or on the sofa, anywhere he could easily guide your head backwards and press his lips to yours, the rest of his day would be ruined

dramatic, would be the best way to describe a kiss deprived chenle

JISUNG-hand kisses:

to jisung kisses are one of the truest levels of intimacy, they come with philosophical and ethical discussions and debates, prophesies of where the universe might be heading in ten years or why you shouldn't take things in life for granted

jisung liked to think, and he appreciated being able to share and discuss his thoughts with you, to him that seemed like one of the purest forms of love, being unashamed to share even the most wild and crazy theories with each other

he admired your passion, the way you'd get lost between your own thoughts, in your own world as you explained a concept to him, one of the many reasons jisung loved you, and in those moments a press of his lips to the knuckles of your hand, already intertwined with his, seemed perfect, like the cherry on top

"I think it's crazy how we don't realise so much of what goes on around us" you're sharing one of those moments of yours again, when you feel like you'd noticed something that made a big impact on your point of view in life and jisung can't help but let that gummy smile flash over his lips, his thumb rubbing up and down the outer surface of your hand

it's beautiful to him, how your legs are laying over his and how you rest your head against his chest and his fingers rake through your hair while you find yourselves in this moment, for a second jisung stops listening, or at least attentively so, trying to take in this fleeting moment of what he thought was the most important part of loving someone

"sung, you seem out of it?" you'd ask the question so concerned, despite a little guilt that he hadn't been able to listen to you, jisung would smile softly and shake his head

"just thinking about how lucky I am to have you"

and his hand would lift yours, quickly pressing a feathery kiss to your knuckles

"I love you" he'd say, a phrase he didn't say often, scared it would lose its meaning, but one he'd say just enough that you'd known how much you meant to him

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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months

Text

My Girl [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] Literally just smut. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Avenger!Loki. Language. (Slightly) Possessive Loki. Loki tying his hair up during sex. (w/c 1.8k)

Loki surfaces from between your legs, strands of loose hair grazing against the delicate skin.

Your eyes are sealed from pure pleasure, the feeling of his wet lips working up one trembling thigh making you mewl his name in broken breaths. Five? Seven? You’d lost count.

He chuckles quietly to himself.

His fingers dance down your hips where they were hooked beneath your legs, a final biting kiss signalling the understated finale of his favourite repertoire.

“How tempting it is," he rumbles softly, " to see if you can take one more."

You open your eyes, lessening the punishing grip on his forearm.

Loki’s hair is a mess, mussed and wild from your fingers tangling through its lengths. It surrounds his angular features with the lustre of a Raphaelite halo, blended back into the darkness.

The glow of fairy-lights draped around your bedposts illuminate the glint in his eyes. Dark shadows caress the carve of his cheekbones as he sits back on his haunches, stroking himself leisurely.

He’s always hard when he pleasures you. However long it lasts.

As tempting as it is to watch him work, you find yourself rising; leaning forwards to catch him in a hungry kiss. “I need you,” you pant into his open mouth, fingers finding their way to the fist snug around the base of his cock.

Loki pauses, smouldering down. Your legs are spread open, bent at the knee. He kneels between them, the muscled expanse of his torso rising like rock from the sea.

All you want is him. All of him, always.

“Need me?” he purrs, feigned incredulity followed by a slow tut. “I must do better if my girl is still not satisfied.”

You place a loving slap on his shoulder.

The god bites his lip, gaze dropping to your breasts while his palms slide up your waist. They cup your curves, thumbs toying with your nipples as he pushes you lightly back to the pillow.

“I need you inside me,” you specify with an air of playful sarcasm.

Loki’s dimples flash while your eyes drop to his manhood, thick and hard and ready to fuck you.

“See what you do to me?” he says with a squeeze of his hand around the tip of his cock.

A pearl of pre-cum sparkles. The guttural sound which rumbles in his throat makes you clench.

You can feel a fresh rivulet of desire descend between your folds. Slowly, you work back to his delicate smile, a ring of moisture still glistening around his mouth. It’s smeared up his cheeks. Long winds of hair cling to his jawline, sealed to your arousal on his skin. He peels one off with understated grace.

Loki rakes a hand through his hair; wild again. Waves fan out like onyx flame behind the chariot of his devastating features, each tendril like the stroke of a madman’s brush.

He releases his grip of himself, and with one purposeful pump of his powerful thighs a hand lands on the mattress by your shoulder. You raise a foot, helpless to resist a brush of it against the curve of his ass as he hovers above. The god’s other hand sinks into the bed on your left with a soft thump.

“You are perfect,” he murmurs, nose brushing down your forehead, your eye socket, before his lips fasten to your own.

You can feel the hard column of flesh between his legs press upwards against your slit. It pulses eagerly. He slides back and forth, sending sparks of pleasure zinging through your core. With every wax and wane of his all-consuming kiss, he gyrates. Ragged breaths heave in his chest with each clench of his muscular ass, the pull of his foreskin against your heat building a growl.

Delayed gratification is a drug for your god. And you, his girl, indulge him.

He breaks from your lips, a strand of saliva dangling as his forehead rests against yours.

The veil of his curls shields you in darkness, only the hot mist of his heavy pants filling the space between you. It’s all you can do not to reach down and guide his cock deep inside. Right now, it might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you allow Loki the theatre of his seduction. Encourage, even.

He’s desperate for you. It shows.

And you love it.

Your fingertips comb past his temples, the flash of half-lidded eyes coming into view.

His eyebrows rise a fraction, a strangled yes from your lips all the encouragement he needs. With a shift of his hips, Loki’s eyes flutter closed as the crown of his cock squeezes inside your cunt.

A deep groan fills the air, his mouth hanging open.

A long curl drips over his parted lips, buffeting gently with every pant as your lover bottoms out.

He thrusts slowly as you buck your hips to meet him, rolling as one. Thick veins in his cock tug your delicate walls, flushed with the glorious weight of his need.

Your god’s hair swings around your face, dirty mutterings of devotion blasting the shell of your ear. That velvet voice absorbs into your soul like wine on tissue paper. Nothing feels as good as Loki’s cock. The way it massages the hidden depths of you, the pull of his pubic hair against your clit; the way that he can flick his hips that makes your eyes roll back.

The way he fills you so completely. He knows you; his girl.

Loki leans back on his knees, fingers wrapping around your hips and raising them. He slides in and out, enjoying every drag of your walls along his pulsing length. Those long digits knead down your thighs, spreading. Your chin is tilted to the ceiling, drowning in love-drunk chants of his name before Loki grunts.

His fluid thrusts slow.

You look up, frowning gently as he raises a hand to his side.

The god’s heavy smoulder hangs in the air like woodsmoke, chiselled torso towering over you; jet-black mane hanging sluttishly around the dagger of his jaw.

“Loki wha-” you slur, beginning to rise to your elbows. The will is knocked out of you with another of your lover’s glacial, mind-bending thrusts.

You fall back to the pillow with a gasp of his name.

“I simply wish to observe it, unobstructed,” he drawls stoically – only a tiny quiver in his voice betraying the heightened arousal searing through his veins. The warm glow of the fairy-lights is interrupted by a flash of green.

You squirm, clenching around Loki’s cock as a single circular hair-tie appears between the god’s thumb and forefinger.

“Observe what?” you manage to pant as you paw at his chest. Your pads catch in waves against the flex of his abdominals.

Loki casually sweeps his hair back from his shoulders.

Gripping with one hand, fingertips rake the tendrils cascading over his brow. He draws it back, winding the sex-dampened hair into a messy bun. You clench again.

The angles of his jaw slice into view, gatekeeper to the long thick of his neck. Veins strain beneath skin. The blood pumping within them pulses to the beat of his cock. He tilts his head.

“This,” he says darkly.

He slides his hands under your legs, hoisting them onto his shoulders. There’s a slurp as Loki’s tip pops from your entrance.

The sudden emptiness makes a gnawing hunger stir deep in your belly. The god’s cock presses gently against the squelch of your sex as he positions you with ease, fingertips sinking into the plump muscle of your calves.

Your eyes squeeze shut as Loki pushes inside you – so deep that you think you might break.

He pauses, and you can feel the primal weight of his stare roaming your face. You know that your skin is hot, that the backs of your thighs pressed against Loki’s chest slap with sweat and sex. You know that your face is contorted in pleasure, that he is fighting the urge to slam into his climax like the wild beast he is.

With difficulty, your eyelids open. Strands hang loose from his bun, flirting against his cheekbones; already falling free. Dark lashes fan against his cheek as he slides out your pussy with an obscene squelch. A deep frown appears on his forehead while he watches it disappear again, slowly.

So slowly.

“F-f-fuck-k,” he groans loudly.

A muscle in his jawline bobs as teeth clench, and you remind yourself with a prayer of thanks that Loki buried deep in your cunt is the most beautiful sight in the universe.

His fingers move from your calves to your wrists, drawing them above your head. Instinctually your digits curl around the cool metal bars of the bedstead. The god’s grip tightens, just for a moment.

“My girl,” he rumbles as he stares deep into your eyes. In this moment, more than any other, you are his.

Loki leans forward, his tongue demanding entrance and you melt into him. The weight of him bears down, squeezing air from your lungs as he fucks into you. Bucking your hips, Loki slips deeper. An untoned moan rips the air, his thrusts tripping as one of his hands palms your breasts.

You groan his name, sobbing the syllables as the fingers of his right hand curl tighter against your wrists.

More rogue strands of hair have fallen from his top-knot, sticking to his shoulders. One swings against his cheek, eyebrows peaked as climax threatens to overwhelm him.

“Do you w-want me to fill you, darling-” he grunts rhetorically, a whine snaking from his throat.

You yank your wrists from his grip, making Loki’s hand fly to the frame. It rattles the metal, the bed beginning to shake. “Fucking fill me, Loki” you cry so loudly the whole floor could hear. But you don’t care.

“Fill you with my...se- seed? My raw power, my n-norns, fuck-k-k,”

“-dripping out of me, down my thighs- Loki...please,”

Loki shudders, the ripples of his obliques between your legs making your vision blur.

You clench a final time around his cock, Loki’s head falling back. Dark tendrils fall with abandon from his topknot now, sticking against his brow. His whoreish slut-drunk form on full display as he releases a thundering rip of your name.

Hot cum throbs in a gush against your walls, the judder of your lover’s hips delivering a final wave of pleasure to your deepest centre.

Your calves tighten around his shoulders as Loki falls forward. His face buries in the curve of your neck, gyrating slowly as you milk him to completion.

Cum wells around your entrance, the filthy slurp complimenting the wet lap of Loki’s kiss. He purrs against your mouth as climax ebbs, lower your legs gently by his sides.

“My girl,” he hums quietly, before placing a kiss on your collarbone you already know will bruise.

“My girl.”

(thanks @glitchquake for reminding me Loki with a bun was hot AF❤️

Tags (cont in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #lokismut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki oneshot

2K notes · View notes

wtfsteveharrington · 1 month

Text

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors.

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?”

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago.

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off.

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.”

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there.

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?”

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.”

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him.

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused.

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief.

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out?

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least.

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are.

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off.

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.”

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too.

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream.

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him?

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess.

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone.

Oh he’s so fucked.

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.”

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late.

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work.

He had to.

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen.

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?”

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.”

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.”

And you laugh.

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions.

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now.

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today.

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems.

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg.

And he stops looking there.

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them.

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away.

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing.

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss.

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again.

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen.

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes.

His cheeks are hot.

Fuck is he blushing?

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you.

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you.

Okay fine, it is.

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground.

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop.

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor.

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up.

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different.

“You good, Chef?”

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat.

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.”

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Anything, Chef.”

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.”

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders.

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back.

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious.

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief?

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.”

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.”

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor.

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you.

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him.

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well.

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video.

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #so many versions of his name #🤍: the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #♡: carmen berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear smut #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy smut #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you

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thirteenducks · 4 months

Text

feverish

(wriothesley x wife!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to by ‘wife’ and "she/her"), established relationship, marriage, reader has hair long enough to reach neck

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.5k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic, banter while sick, this is just wrio taking care of you and being a butt while doing it, feat. sigewinne who does not get paid enough for this, if you are sick and reading this rn im so sorry and i hope you get well soon, coldsink wrio x heatsource wife agenda

༻❁༺ author’s note: my friend @mmmairon is sick and i am in another country and cannot help so i'm sending wrio on my behalf. pls enjoy especially if you don't feel well right now :(

After a restless night, Wriothesley is thrilled to hear that you're awake now. He wastes no time in rushing to your side.

Wriothesley’s pen scratches unpleasantly against a disciplinary notice, its point threatening to carve into the wood of the desk beneath. The owner mutters darkly under his breath as he completes a signature on the offending paper and slides it to his left. Immediately, another takes its place from the stack on his right.

For two hours, nothing else has broken the quiet of the Duke’s office. Two hours too long, by Wriothesley’s measure. He glances at the clock, hand continuing to sign his name by sheer muscle memory.

Are you getting any rest? Did the chamomile from your tea an hour ago help at all, or are the throes of fever keeping you awake? Does he have the right ingredients to make you beef stew? Preoccupied, he writes “soup” on the signature line of a prisoner release form by mistake.

He sighs, pinching the crooked bridge of his nose between his fingers. They’re as cold as ever. He misses the warmth of yours unspeakably.

The next thirty minutes pass like an eternity. Surely, Sigewinne would be at his side in an instant if you were awake. His presence there now would only serve to wake you from much-needed rest and defer his backlog of paperwork even more. Neither of these points keeps him from staring the clock down like he’s in the ring again.

Suddenly, there’s a quiet knock on his door and Wriothesley snaps to attention, nearly knocking over an inkwell in his haste. Sigewinne enters without his bidding, an unreadable expression on her kind face. She doesn’t wait for his question before she answers it.

“Yes, the tea put her to sleep, and yes, she’s awake now.”

His features relax in a moment, the furrow in his brow smoothing.

“I’m afraid she’s not any better than she was this morning, however. I would have really liked to see her fever come down by now...” The Melusine trails off, her small hand on her chin and a pout on her face. “The chill probably isn’t doing her much good, either.”

Her boss, however, is already halfway downstairs, pulling his coat on as he takes the steps two at a time. Sigewinne sighs as she turns to follow him at a much slower pace. So predictable when his wife is involved.

In contrast to the speed at which he crosses the fortress to your shared living quarters, Wriothesley’s steps are soft as he nears your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart? Are you up?”

A weak cough answers him. He’s by the bedside in a moment, kneeling and pushing aside the curtain that hides you from him. Your eyes squint a bit as the sickly light of the fortress filters in, and his hand moves up to shield your face as he appears in your field of vision.

Despite the red ringing your eyes and nose and the congestion in your breathing, you smile up at him and his heart almost jumps out of his chest.

“Hi, darling.”

The side of his mouth quirks up. “Hi. Feeling any better?”

You shake your head slightly, your hair fanning out on the pillow beneath you. He silently gathers it in one hand and moves it away from your neck as he waits for you to continue. The brush of his cool hand against your flushed skin feels incredible and you bring your hand to rest on his, a silent entreaty to keep it there.

“Sigewinne says I’m in the worst of it now and that from here-” you stop to cough, Wriothesley’s eyes raking over your frame as it shakes with the effort. “-from here it should be uphill. As long as I can rest up today.”

He pushes the hair back from your forehead with his other hand, stroking it absentmindedly. “Well, we’ll have to stick it out until tomorrow then, huh?” The grin he shoots you, all teeth, does more for you than you think any of the medicine on your bedside table has.

That’s why you’re as surprised as he is when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. You hadn’t even known they were there until now, but suddenly it’s so much harder to breathe than it was and Wriothesley is a swimming blur in front of you. The shooting pain in your head, dulled to an ache until now, comes back in full force as your body curls in on itself and your temple meets your husband’s shoulder.

You don’t know if you’re crying from the headache, from exhaustion, or from something else, and your mind is too foggy to care. All you can do is be held as his arms come to rest firmly around you and he pulls you to him, murmuring words of comfort.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry... I wish I could do more.” Your hands grip his collar a little tighter as you sob into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I know, love. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. Sigewinne and I are gonna take care of everything, okay?”

There’s an edge of concern to his voice that you can hear even through the haze of sickness. You hate it. It’s likely just the seasonal flu; half the Fortress has had it at some point this winter. The thought of how much you were making him worry over something so small as this...

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop it,” Wriothesley gently reprimands, his cool fingers stroking your forehead again. You can feel the cold metal of his wedding ring against the heated skin. “You’re not being a baby about anything. You hear me?”

Your silence speaks volumes. He laughs a little, the sound loud in the silence of your bedroom. “I know you well, don’t I?”

It takes a while for your tears to completely subside. When you’re finished sniffling against his collar, he props you up against the headboard with pillows behind your back. You’re more congested than ever, something your husband has the nerve to laugh at as he hands you tissues, but there’s no unkindness in his tone.

He disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes as you doze, exhausted from the effort of crying for so long. When he eases the door open again, he’s carrying a tray with a teacup and pot (of course) and a bowl of something that smells warm and comforting.

“Hmm. Excellent room service this place has. The waiter is a little scruffy, though,” you say as Wriothesley places it on your lap, tucking in the covers around you.

He gives you a fake look of injury. “How dare you, ma’am. I’ll have you know I’m too worried about my wife to shave, who I’m afraid is deathly ill,” he sighs, stroking the stubble on his jaw. He spoons soup into your mouth before you can retort, stifling a smile.

Once you’ve drained half the soup, Wriothesley seems satisfied. He removes the tray from your lap and takes your hand, bringing it to his own forehead.

“Oh, no. How awful.” He shoots you a glance. “It appears the Duke of the Fortress has come down with something.”

You raise an eyebrow. His forehead is as cool as the rest of him is. “Really.”

“Oh, yes,” he says, flopping onto your lap. “It looks like he’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day.”

You laugh, wincing when it makes your head throb. “The Duke sounds like a slacker, if you ask me.”

“Well, everyone knows that,” Wriothesley murmurs, burying his face into your thigh. “They’ll have to tell my boss about it.” You feel him grin against your leg.

You sigh, feigning exasperation. “What a shame. I was just about to ask him to dinner, too.”

Wriothesley has migrated to his side of the bed by now and is nestling into your side with the stubbornness of a dog. “Don’t worry, I hear he’s a messy eater. Absolute carnivore.”

Your hands come to rest on his head, the soft grey strands tickling your palms. “You know you’re going to get sick, right? I’m highly contagious.”

No answer.

“You’re the head of the Fortress, Wrio. If you get laid up, Sigewinne might put a bounty out on you. She seems like the type.”

Your husband murmurs into your side, already half-asleep. “She’ll have to catch me first.”

Despite your many blankets and the body next to you, a sudden chill runs through you and you stiffen. He feels it, arms tightening around your waist.

“Fever pills are on the bedside in the white bottle. Water is next to it.”

You smile. “Thank you, darling.” He hums in response.

A few days later, you’re well enough to leave your room again. Sigewinne would be thrilled, if not for your husband, who looks more smug than any sick man has a right to be.

He sniffles, burrowing into your sheets again as the Melusine glares daggers at him. “I’ll be fine. My wife loves me and I have leftover soup in the fridge. What else does a man need?”

#wriothesley #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #fem!reader #mairon if u see this please feel better #this is also lowkey for me the next time i get sick #just planning ahead ig #anyway. simp wrio agenda

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sunsburns · 3 months

Note

Plssss write something wehere reader and virgin Luke fuck

[nsfw 17+]

no need to tell me twice! this is sooo obviously loser!luke coded and i'm glad he's back in my corner. and let's be honest, he wouldn't have a damn clue where to put his hands the entire time...

luke just wants to touch you, all of you. and it makes you smile when you feel his hands trail from your cheeks, your neck, down your shoulders, and once he felt a little braver, he'd grasp at your chest, brows furrowed, and lips parted.

your skin is warm, and the weight of his hands on you has you mewling. you drop your head and look down at him. luke can barely keep his eyes open, but when you bring your hand to his chin, tilting his head up, he tries to look at you.

luke's eyes are glossy, clouded by a lustful haze. his curls stick to his forehead, a thin coat of sweat against his skin while soft, low groans spill from his lips.

you let out a breathless laugh, running your finger through his hair as you roll your hips. "f-fuck..."

he's panting, his hands running from your chest to your waist, then your hips, and shyly creeping near your ass, but not quite there. you kiss his teeth and lick into his mouth, grinning when he tries to follow your lips when you back away the slightest bit.

"c'mon, luke..." you huff, pressing your forehead against his. "i've been doin' all the work, care to help a girl out?"

he's bottomed out, buried inside you as you rock your hips against his. you hold onto his shoulders for support, legs aching, but the pretty sounds that slip from his lips make it all worth it.

it's been ungraceful and clumsy, wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's mouth. you wished it could've been a little more coordinated, especially after you spent a couple of days looking for a spot you knew no one else would find you and luke in. a clearing far enough from the camp, but close enough where you could still see the lake, where the grass was softer, and none of the trees had any stranded arrows or carvings from the blade of a sword or a knife.

the sun beat down on the two of you, hot and golden, tanning your skin while luke can barely look at you without becoming flustered.

"what..." he's staring at your lips, "what do i do? what do you want me to do?"

he's trying his best, you'll give him that. it makes you smile against his mouth nonetheless.

"put your hands here," you guide his palms back to your hips, and you give them a squeeze, "and hold tight. i want you to move your hips, baby."

luke nods, a bright red hue on his cheeks when you kiss him again. his hips roll into yours, and a drawled curse falls from his open mouth. luke pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour it; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out.

you raise your hips the next time he pulls out, meeting in the middle when he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours once more before he pulls away from you so he can suck in a breath and-

"shit. you're so- fuck." he shudders, eyes squeezed shut.

you can hardly breathe, the sun is too hot, and the air is too humid, but luke feels so good, even if each one of his thrusts was so uncoordinated you had to try to roll your hips against him again so he could find a rhythm. it was half-grinding, half-fucking, and a delicious drag of the curve of his cock against your walls. yeah, you could do this forever.

"feels so good, luke." you moan, a little louder than you hoped when luke finally built the courage to grab your ass. "you feel so good. don't stop."

"don't wanna," he can barely get the words out. he's trying to kiss your neck but misses, and his teeth knock against your collarbone, the beads of your camp necklace hitting his nose. his jaw clenches tightly, "fuuuck."

one of his hands slides up the span of your back until it reaches the back of your neck, fingers ghosting below your hairline. you get a good look at him, he's a little bolder now, eyes wider, but brows still furrowed. luke licks his lips and lets them fall into a soft pout, a broken moan escaping him once he realizes you're staring.

"gonna cum, luke?"

he's nodding, his curly hair falling over his eyes as his hips buck at the sound of your voice. "yeah... yeah, yes."

you almost feel bad when you push him by the chest until his back falls onto the blanket. he stares at you, surprised, maybe, face unreadable as you lean down over him and whisper, "you're gonna have to work a little harder for it."

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke’s cabin

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pascalpvnk · 2 months

Text

take it from me

pairing: latino!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: joel is a simple man who simply finds pleasure in pleasing you.

warnings: moodboard used for aesthetic purposes - does not represent the reader description, 18+ MDNI, no timeline, no specified ages, no mention of sarah or ellie, LATINO JOEL (most translations within the text except for some reused pet names/common phrases). This is porn with minimal plot (but unrelated plot I canon—his favorite artist is Linda Ronstadt and I stand by it.), Joel maneuvers reader, manhandling essentially, no other descriptions of reader other than nipple piercings, body worship(?), Joel’s filthy fucking mouth, mention of thigh riding, oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, mentions of intense emotions, aftercare.

word count: 3.3k

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

a/n: fun fact, I’m a virgin, so if it seems far fetched it’s probably because it is. anyways, a special shoutout to ramon nomar for being the muse for this piece, another to @mrsswilliams for beta-ing and fueling my horny antics, thank you to my spanish teachers for guiding me to this moment (probably not your intention but I digress), and to you for taking the time to be here and hopefully enjoying! happy reading xx (banners & dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Addicting is the only word Joel Miller can muster up to describe you as his mind clouds with lust each night he’s alone, bucking into his own fist and spilling his sins after he’d met you. Of course you’re beautiful and charming above all things, but he can’t help the way his cock stirs after simply a phone call from you describing your day. How you miss him and want to meet up again soon.

Joel isn’t the brightest man, which he is very self aware of. But what he craves to learn about you, what your favorite flower is, favorite ice cream, your desires, outranks any level of intelligence a man could hold. He wants to please you, not for a superficial reason to use against you down the line. He enjoys your smile and the way your eyes crinkle, your dimple making an appearance on occasion, and it makes him feel good. The little things shine a light in his chest, ever the people pleaser.

However, he finds a red, hot desire to rouse you, make you squirm under his tender touch. To watch every fiber of control and tension dissipate from your being.

But he’s cautious.

He’s treading on thin ice within himself. He wants to give and give and give, but he’d never forgive himself if he overwhelmed and alarmed you. Your wit keeps him on his toes, tempting and trying his willpower to take things at a palatable pace.

But he’s just a man at his simplest form, a glutton for pleasure wanting to carve himself a home within you and give everything he has to please you.

You found yourself perched upon his lap, a forgotten movie droning in the background as hands and lips explore new territory. Joel firmly guided your hips, firstly against his own, then he aided you across his denim clad thigh after you wriggled your pants to the floor.

Choruses of Spanish praises, filth, ‘mamita, use me’, and phrases alike rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he found pleasure within your own. Consuming every moan, gasp, and ‘don’t stop’ you were so eager to give.

He struggled to deny your beautiful pleas to get him off as he had for you. You knew he wanted you to, there was no doubt in your mind considering the prominent bulge straining and begging you to. He reassured you, or rather made excuses for himself to ease the guilt he felt at your subtle disappointment.

I’m not coming in my jeans in front of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.

You said you had work in the morning, anyhow. We outta get’cha home, preciosa.

Joel kissed you softly as he pulled up your pants, grabbed his keys, opened his truck door for you, waited at red lights, and finally as he dropped you off at your apartment building, sealing the night with melted wax, branding himself on your heart until you meet next.

Made it home okay, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.

And he does.

His head is already spinning at the thought of going out with you again. He’s showered, trimmed, even ironed his flannel before making sure it’s buttoned and tucked properly. Well rested is not one of the qualities he’s adorning—no thanks to you running his imagination rampant—but the adrenaline he feels, and the coffee he drank at noon, make up for his lack of preparedness.

At the end of the day, those things don’t even matter. Joel Miller makes it as far as his front door when you ring, bringing you inside with the intention of grabbing his own keys. His hands find you instead, your face in a gentle caress as he compliments your attire, your appearance as a whole, and your waist as he kisses you with increasing fervor. You don’t stop him, and he doesn’t stop himself.

“Ay dios. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all day,” he mumbles against your neck, walking you backwards to his bedroom. His shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, suffocating him until you pop each button open one by one. You leave him in his black undershirt, half untucked in his dark washed jeans.

The back of your knees find his mattress before you even realize, forcing you to sit parallel with his waist. He takes his time, always calculated with his hands on every sweet spot he can reach. Joel cups your jaw, admiring your blown out pupils and the raw lust overtaking your features.

“Wanna take good care of ya, now,” he soothes. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, you know I’ll stop for ya, promise.”

It’s half of a promise to you, half of him asking you to promise to tell him if it becomes too much. You nod, reaching for him once again.

“No, chiquita,” he holds your hand to his chest. “¿Me prometes? You promise me?”

“I promise,” you say clearly and wholeheartedly. “On my life.”

With your renewed consent, he folds himself over to kiss you deeply. His tongue dances with yours, similarly to a few nights prior but with increased desperation. Fingertips graze up your sides, nerves twitching under his subtle touch, only unlatching your lips to lift your top over your head. His eyes fixate on the pebbled flesh and metal protruding your bra, making quick work of the clasp before removing it.

“I knew you had something hiding underneath this,” he muses, toying with the fabric of your bra between his first two fingers. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, hm?”

Joel skims his thumbs on the underside of both of your breasts, attaching his mouth to your collarbone. He suckles your delicate skin, committing the taste of your sweet musk and desire to his memory. He softly licks over one of your nipples, taking in how your head tips back with a sigh. He brings it into his mouth, nipping and assuaging the pierced bud until you manage to free his shirt out of his waistline.

“Paciencia, amor. Patience, sweetheart, please,” he pacifies as he guides your hand out of reach from his belt. “Just wanna savor you. Can I?”

You nod and opt to tangle your fingers in his curls. Approval seeps through his smirk as he continues his ministrations for as long as he pleases, feeling accomplished each time your hips chase his.

Joel stands up straight, running his calloused hands over one of your clothed legs, meticulously pulling each shoe and sock off and tossing them to the side to find later.

“Do I need a condom, baby?” He mutters against your knee, toying with the hemline of your pants.

You tell him no and quickly explain you’re clean and protected. Something in him visibly switches, desire becoming carnal. He clings tight to his sense of control, desperately willing himself to give himself to you, not give into himself.

Joel drags both layers of bottoms down your legs, watching you challenge him by keeping them clamped together. He exhales heavily through his nose, your limbs relaxing slightly, but just enough for him to retake control.

“Christ, looks like I was wrong again,” he sighs, smoothing his flattened palms over your open thighs. You can get prettier. “Oh she’s pretty, mamita. All this for me?”

A gasp falls between your lips as you’re tugged closer to the edge of the mattress. Your head spins, the only thought crossing it is Joel. His hands. His words. His filthy mouth and how it’s mere centimeters from where you want him to be. Need him to be.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling the scratch of his blunt facial hair on your inner thighs. His lips tease the sensitive skin around your pussy.

“What?” He coos, fingernails biting your flesh. “Dime, baby. Tell me what you want.”

It feels pathetic, you’re completely at his mercy, stripped down on his bed while he remains fully clothed over you. He has you in the palm of his hand, putty waiting to be molded and shaped however he pleases. Bliss has already warped your features, the anticipation of what’s to come already numbing your brain.

“I want you,” you cry simply.

“You have me, don’t ya? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

Frustration bubbles in your belly. You’re truly not annoyed, but the tension might snap you in half before he gets the chance to.

“Want you to touch me,” you plead. “Want you to make me come, please.”

Joel hums with content, thumbs pulling your cunt open from the outer lips. A slick, sticky mess you are, hardly touched and begging to come. Arousal seeps from you, finding its way to your tight hole. You watch Joel wet his lips, the self restraint slowly dwindling from his gaze.

“Show me,” he huffs. “Be good and fuck your hand f’me. Wanna see how you like it.”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clanking against itself is enough for your hand to fly below your hips. Relief floods your nervous system the moment you circle your clit, hips lifting and chasing the friction. Sighs leave your parted lips, eyelids falling shut with pleasure.

“Ah ah,” he corrects. “Eyes on me, beba. Sigue jugando con esa flor bonita. Mírame.” Keep playing with that pretty flower. Look at me.

You comply with his request, half lidded but maintaining eye contact nonetheless. Your fingers toy with your cunt lazily, eyes settling between his burning gaze and his taut boxers. His length strains beneath the thin fabric and his hand twitches at his side.

“I love watching you, mami,” Joel purrs. “Wish y’could see how perfect you look right now…perfectly wrecked just for me.”

His words egg you on, pace quickening on your throbbing clit. Moans spill from you as you watch Joel squeeze at his seemingly uncomfortable erection for his own relief. His other palm keeps your legs spread for him, kneading desperately at your thighs as you work yourself towards the edge.

“¿Quieres que te ayude, mamita?” Do you want me to help you?

Joel settles on his knees, both palms splayed against your skin to keep you pinned down. He licks a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit, sucking harshly on your labia before diving into your weeping cunt, all while audibly sighing with delight at your taste. Your hand instinctively rushes to grip his curls.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he grumbles while putting your hand back where he says it belongs. “Keep playing with yourself. Make this pretty pussy cry all over my face, cosa dulce.” Sweet thing.

Your digits pulse against the nerve bundle, shocked by the sensation of his tongue swirling inside of you. It’s absolutely obscene. He slurps up everything you have to give, edging you until your legs clamp over his ears. Joel sings into your cunt, a delicious melody that sends you into a frenzy. Your walls flutter around him as he guides you through your orgasm, nose nudging your hand out of the way to make more room for himself.

Your gaze drops from the ceiling to his blissful face, thick eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks as he savors you. It all begins to feel like too much as you grip onto his shirt. You pull the cloth towards you and he gets the hint, dragging his mouth away from your pussy and removing his top.

“So desperate to come, mamita, already finished with me?” He cants, smoothing a thumb over your kneecap.

“No- just need a breath,” you pant. You take in his features, broad shoulders with a strong chest, thick arms. His hair alone has you running laps, the sparseness of it littered on his torso and below his belly button, his curls tousled already from your hands, and his beard—fuck his beard—is absolutely soaked with your arousal. He makes no attempt to wipe it clean before kissing you. The taste of your cunt dances on your tongue as he licks into your mouth.

“Joel,” you sigh, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your neck. “I wanna suck your cock, please.”

“You wanna suck it?” He smirks, slipping his hand beneath his boxers before shoving them off of his thighs. His fingers slip through your folds briefly before he deposits your cum onto the tip of his dick. Mischief plays on his expression as he opens your legs once more.

Joel slowly stuffs his cock into you, not your mouth but your pussy. A gasp escapes you, morphing itself into a moan. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him in deeper.

“Thought you wanted to suck it,” he grunts with a devilish grin, grinding his hips down into yours.

“Hmm, I’ll suck it later,” you draw out with a smile.

He leans down to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, gently nibbling on the sensitive skin before pulling off.

“God, mamita,” he exhales. “Love fucking this pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

His hips drive into yours at a devastating pace, only using a portion of his length to massage your pussy. You quickly adjust to him, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. You cry his name while simultaneously having all of the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Joel swallows your wails whole, moaning against your lips in return.

Your legs tense around his body, face twisting up with pleasure under the weight of his. Lips drag against your skin, anywhere he can reach. The room spins around you, eyes rolling back into your head as his hand snakes down to play with your clit. You desperately claw at Joel, gripping his curls in one hand and bruising his back with the other.

“Dámelo. Give it to me like I want, sugar,” Joel coaxes.

The bundles of twine prickling your flesh and holding you together in one piece snap, your body completely shattering into a million fragments underneath him. He stays buried inside you as you pulse around his cock, humming into your neck and soothing his hands over your burning skin.

Joel gently settles onto his side near you, cupping your jaw and kissing you feverishly. You shift your body to face away from him, pushing back against his soaked erection. His eyebrows furrow, grunts of detest coming from him.

“No, mami, I want to look at you while I fuck you. Ven aquí, come here,” he corrects, grasping your arm to guide you to press up chest to chest with him. A brief hiss escapes him as the cool jewelry brushes up against his nipples.

“These’ll be the death of me,” he sighs, latching his mouth to yours once more as he maneuvers you the way he wants.

His cock slips easily back into your wet heat, arms trapping your upper half against his as his legs anchor to the bed to buck into you. He grips onto your ass for leverage and you find yourself holding onto it with your own palm. It’s slower, intimate, reeling you in to take more, to take it all.

He draws another orgasm from you. Your heart thrums against his hardened chest, his pounding against the confines of his ribcage. He collapses on his back with a breathy groan, sweat perspiring on his forehead. You push back his sticky curls as he catches his breath this time.

“You still wanna suck it?” He chuckles cheekily, offering but not forcing.

He’s surprised as you eagerly crawl down his body, curling over his thigh while taking his cock in your fist. Your back is to him once more, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially while he’s stuffed in your mouth so perfectly. His fingers drag along your spine, palm splaying flat to soothe the sensation quickly after. His hand stills and stomach flexes as you take as much of him as you can, pumping your tight fist over the remainder of his length.

“Fuck me,” he shutters mindlessly, “feels so good, amor. Treating me so good.”

The praises fuel you, moaning around his tip as he continues to trace shapeless trails onto your back. Your mind feels cloudy, not thunderstorms and impending doom cloudy, but rather a sunny, breezy, nothing could ever go wrong kind of cloudy. You feel taken care of for once, free to slip into a warm, blissful state with Joel. He feels safe.

“Come back, preciosa,” he grins as you make your way back up his body. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you deeply once more, running his hands gently all over your skin as you settle on top of him.

“Missed ya,” he chuckles, kissing your swollen pout a few more times before wetting his fingertips with his spit. He reaches down, circling your clit as his cock twitches against your seam. Your head falls beside his, feeling too heavy to hold up on your own.

Joel protrudes your cunt once more, nestling into you carefully at first. You writhe over him at the push and pull of his cock inside your fluttering walls, hips snapping down against his with subtle slaps of skin rejoicing. He picks up his pace beneath you, overwhelming your senses a bit too quickly.

You work your core to sit up, fully sheathed with his length as you grind against him. He grips onto your hips, watching you use him for your own pleasure.

“Tan bonita, amor,” he hums smugly, his fingertips dancing along your bare thigh, his other hand tucked behind his head to prop himself up. “So pretty, mami, fuck.”

He tweaks his fingers against your nipples, pinching the pebbled flesh carefully as you ride his lap. Tufts of his neat pubic hair scratch at your clit, the friction of everything causing you to soak his lap further. You’re being pushed to your limits, throat dry and voice hoarse. Joel wishes to have put water on his bedside table, he would’ve had he’d known you’d end up here so quickly.

“Doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He checks in, toying with your fingers that have found a home on his chest. You silently nod, eyelids low and face contoured with bliss.

“Think you can give me one more, bebita? Come on my cock one more time and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Your voice hardly sounds like your own, but you mean it when you tell him yes, please. He feels it when you clamp down on his length, his thighs tensing so tight they almost cramp. His legs hinge at the knee, body pivoting you forward into his chest. Joel grabs fistfuls of your ass as he fucks up into you, all of the air leaving your lungs.

His grunts and groans become less calculated and intentional, thrusts becoming sloppier and instinctual. You squeeze him tight, toes curling as you already tumble towards your impending high.

“Mierda,” he hisses, strong arms pressing your torso firmly to his. His lips consume your every breath, whine and borderline scream.

“Take it, use me, amor. Dámelo, cariño, and I’ll give you my cum. Take it from me,” he grunts sharply, pressing into you impossibly deeper and faster. Your skin bursts into flames, embers showering your body as he pulls that final high from you. You shutter above him, dead weight against his body as he uses you to finish himself off. He evacuates your warmth and pumps out his load between your sticky, worn out figures with a drawn out groan.

Joel makes the first move to stand up, cock softening and hanging between his legs. He starts to step towards his en suite bathroom to find a towel, but you reach for him.

“I’m just gettin’ somethin’ to clean you up, honey,” he smiles before seeing a sadness in your eyes, longing for him to come back. Tears prickle your eyes and Joel quickly makes his way back to the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay, baby, cálmate,” he hushes carefully, holding you close to him. “We’ll getcha cleaned up in a little bit, I’ll make you whatever you fancy for supper and relax with you, sound good?”

A nod suffices his question, knowing you trust him enough to stay rather than run off eases him as he grounds you back to reality with his warm embrace.

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#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: take it from me

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