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kamaluhkhan · 4 months

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GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you wanted revenge on luke castellan)

read part one — THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (afab, she/her pronouns)

summary: you were very angry and possibly still in love with luke castellan. kill him or kiss him — you still weren't sure what he deserved.

warnings/disclaimers: spoilers for season 1 of pjo + lots of book references. reader + luke are around 21 for most of this. rough? smut (p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, etc...) 18 + MDNI ! injuries + blood + violence. reader and others drink alcohol + smoke. lots of angst!!! luke + reader have matching tattoos. twilight + other pop culture references. reader kinda gives 'hell is a teenage girl in her 20s' vibes. maybe slightly toxic dynamic between reader + luke but we love complicated relationships ♡

author's note: thank u so much for all the love on part one!! i got a bit carried away with this one oops, but i hope y'all enjoy it :)

♪: "get him back" by olivia rodrigo

(i. he had a savior complex)

if you were less consumed by anger, you might have noticed the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you.

no one was supposed to go into the forest alone, but you were 17 and reckless and not at all concerned about breaking the rules, especially if it meant proving clarisse larue wrong.

you ventured into the woods, farther than you'd ever been before, with nothing except your knife and a chest full of determination to prove that you were strong and brave just like any other demigod, regardless of if you had a cabin or not.

you were younger then, less disillusioned, and more willing to buy into those fantasies of power and glory, spoon-fed to demigods as truth. one that you hoped to cross off that afternoon: being worthy of attention if you could sink your blade into the next monster that dared to cross your path.

everyone would see that you’re not just some little, powerless girl with no reason to be at camp.

and, sure, there was a small but not insignificant part of you that hoped your mother was watching, that she’d finally notice how much of a hero you could be.

you could have died that afternoon. you put up a decent fight, but soon enough you found yourself fallen to the forest floor: blade down, broken arm, bleeding out. a manticore inches away from sending you to the underworld.

you weren’t angry anymore, the adrenaline had left your body. you just were a scared child, silently praying to deities you hoped wouldn’t look away like they always do.

i’m sorry, mom. i couldn’t do it.

you closed your eyes, waited for your fate, and just when you thought all hope was lost —

the sound of a sword ripping through flesh, an injured growl, and then nothing but your ragged breathing.

your eyelids fluttered open.

it wasn't your mother, or any of the other gods, who jumped in to save your life.

standing in the middle of the clearing, gripping his sword, was luke castellan.

he tucked annabeth’s invisibility cap into his back pocket and brought you to the infirmary.

"she's okay, though?" luke asked. he was watching you carefully, ashes from the manticore dusting his orange camp shirt. his arms were crossed, and it seemed that he managed to defeat the monster relatively unscathed.

lee fletcher, son of apollo, nodded as he set your injury.

"nothing more than a broken arm and minor concussion. make sure your girl gets lots of rest, okay? no more monster hunting. probably has to sit out capture the flag tomorrow, too.”

you ignored the churning in your stomach when lee assumed you were luke’s girl. luke didn’t bother correcting him.

lee left to get you some ambrosia to speed the healing process, leaving you and luke alone in the room.

“you know, i’m not a damsel in distress you have to follow around, waiting to save. i’m not your girl.”

“seriously?” he raised an eyebrow, but his cheeks became slightly flushed. “you would be dead if it wasn’t for me. i heard what happened with clarisse, but gods — you didn’t have to go and get yourself killed to prove something.”

he was right, of course. part of you wanted to argue with him for always having to be the hero, but the fight lingering in your throat wasn’t enough to act on. you just sighed and looked away, feeling too impulsive and powerless and exhausted down to your bones.

you felt the bed dip beside you, and then a hand on your shoulder. it was warmer than usual, but the calloused skin still felt familiar on yours.

“they’re not worth it, okay? that’s what you’re always telling me.”

luke’s voice was lower than before, a touch of bitterness laced through.

“yeah, well you never believe it,” you replied, voice hollow. “so why should i?”

clarisse entered the infirmary before he could answer. luke was instantly on his feet, blocking you from her view, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“what are you doing here?” he practically growled.

“i heard what happened,” clarisse explained, looking past luke to catch your eye. you waved at her with your newly applied cast. “i’m sorry about what i said earlier, if that had anything to do with it.”

at that point, you were still trying to figure out where you stood with clarisse. she had arrived at camp just before the new year. you’d been so used to new campers being younger than you, and it was nice to have someone the same age to be friends with.

it wasn’t until the start of march, around two weeks ago, that ares had claimed her. ever since, there had been a newfound animosity between you, leading up to your explosive argument earlier that day. part of you had a feeling she was just trying to fit in with her siblings. it was a subtle thread woven throughout the camp, especially with the ares kids: this hierarchy of power according to the gods, with you on the lower end because your mother was only a minor goddess.

needless to say, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before; it was just that the words pierced through your thick skin when coming from a friend.

but the very fact that she came to visit you, that she apologized and seemed to regret that you’d gotten hurt, healed you more than the ambrosia lee was just coming back to give you.

“thanks, clarisse,” you said after a mouthful of ambrosia.

even with an established truce, luke didn’t move away from you. in fact, he puffed his chest out a bit more.

“if you say anything like that to her again, i swear to all the gods —”

“i just said sorry, castellan,” clarisse scoffed. “now get out of the way so i can sign her cast.”

clarisse attempted to move closer, but luke stayed planted where he was.

“you are not getting anywhere close to her,” luke warned.

“easy, tiger.” you got up to put your hand on his arm, but luke jerked away from your touch. your fingers brushed against his skin however, and even that brief moment was enough to shock you with its temperature. you tried again, this time bringing a hand to his neck, and he let out a hiss upon contact. his pulse seemed quicker than normal.

“are you feeling okay?”

“i’m just fine,” he huffed, and stormed out of the infirmary.

a few days later, you were training with clarisse, when silena beauregard ran into the arena and interrupted you.

“it’s luke,” she coughed, out of breath. “he’s in the infirmary—”

you sprinted towards the big house before silena could finish her sentence.

when you reached the infirmary, luke was being held back by lee and a few others, screaming that he needed to go find you or you’d die. he was holding his sword, and campers wrestled to remove it from his grip. the sleeve of his shirt lifted up slightly, and that was when you noticed it: a gash across his bicep, shallow, but turning a sickly green. the rest of his skin was flushed, his eyes frantically searching for someone — you — and he was breathing heavily between sentences.

it turned out that he’d gone the entire week with the wound festering. one of the manticore’s spikes must have grazed luke, and he hadn’t thought much of it because he was so focused on making sure you were okay.

manticore poison could fuck with someone’s mind if not treated right away. worse: it could be fatal.

despite your heart beating out of your chest and the chaos you walked into, you kept your voice gentle, but firm.

“luke.”

for a moment, everything stood still. luke froze, and the campers took the opportunity to get a better hold on him.

he blinked at you and shook his head. “no. no. you’re not her. i heard her screaming from the forest and - and she’s in trouble. i need to —”

“it’s me, tiger,” you assured him.

you approached him carefully and, despite some whispers of warning, you gestured at everyone to let go of him completely. they might have had a point, because as soon as they did, the tip of his sword was dangerously close to your chin.

“you’re not her,” he insisted. “you’re just some monster trying to trick me.”

you stood in front of him then, and slowly raised your arm to show him your cast. a few people had signed it — beckendorf, chris, clarisse, silena. luke had signed his name too, of course, along with a poor attempt at a cartoon tiger that made you all laugh.

“see? it’s me. i’m okay.”

there were a few moments when you held your breath, feeling the celestial bronze dig into your skin a bit more. and then:

“it’s…you. you’re….okay?”

luke’s speech was slightly slurred. he dropped his sword like it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds; it nicked you on its way down. you didn’t care though, because luke almost fell to the ground, too.

you gripped his wrist to steady him.

“you’re probably not okay, though,” you explained, well aware of the urgency of the situation. his pulse felt weaker by the second, his skin burning against yours.

“i’m….i’m fine. i just need to — she’s gonna die if i don’t —”

“i’m right here. i’m here because you already saved me, remember? you saved me, but you got hurt.”

he shook his head slowly, and his eyes started to flutter close.

“no, i’m okay,” he breathed, his voice smaller than you’d ever heard it. “i need to make sure y/n is okay. she needs me….”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, seeing him start to fade away right in front of you.

you refused to lose hope.

no — you wouldn’t watch luke castellan die.

“i’m here, luke.” you gripped his wrist even tighter to remind him.

“but —”

“just rest for a minute, ” you insisted, guiding him towards a bed. “for me, okay?”

as soon as you managed to get luke onto the bed and, more importantly, calm, everyone else sprung back into action.

chiron was away for the week, so will solace — one of the younger apollo campers, but probably the best healer at camp — used some healing magic, while lee misted luke with cold water to cool him down and another kid dripped some nectar onto his wound.

luke hissed when the liquid seeped into his skin and reached out for you. you felt like the flesh might melt right off your bones, but you let him squeeze your hand for as long as he needed. somebody came around to put a bandage on your chin, too.

you'd always resented the gods, but that was the first time you'd really lost your faith in them. watching luke fight for his life even after saving yours, other demigods joining the battle, and you thinking: this is the life you cursed us with. you imagined the gods, with power to twist fate in their favor, simply enjoying a feast on mount olympus, hermes sipping nectar and not even aware that another one of his children is dying. you supposed your mother wasn’t any better either. her neglect felt like revenge for something you didn’t even know you had done.

after a while, the skin around luke’s wound lost its greenish hue. you released a deep breath when both lee and will declared that luke seemed to be on the mend — he just needed to get some rest, and, best case scenario, the poison should have run its course by morning.

you didn’t ask about the worst case scenario.

you estimated it was around 2 am when you heard luke’s voice again.

“cold,” was all he said through shivering teeth.

you wordlessly grabbed as many blankets as you could, and tucked them around luke. you waited a few minutes to see if it helped.

“so - so cold,” he shivered again. you reached out to check luke’s pulse, and all you could find was the faintest heartbeat. his skin looked pale in the moonlight and now felt ice cold despite his high fever earlier.

no one else was in the infirmary then. you were wracking your brain to remember what you had learned in demigod survival class about hypothermia. something about warm drinks? you ran to the kitchen and made him a cup of hot chocolate — with cinnamon, just how he liked it.

you whispered his name once you were back at his bedside. his eyelids fluttered open. you tried coaxing him to take the drink, but he wouldn’t even hold the mug. you didn’t think twice about climbing into bed next to him, gently sitting him upright against the headboard so that you could offer him tiny sips. you noticed then that he was still only wearing a tank top, so you took off your sweatshirt — which happened to be one of luke’s — and slid it on him.

when the hot chocolate was done, luke sighed. some of the color returned to his face, and his teeth stopped chattering.

“thanks, karma.”

you just hummed in response, setting the mug down on the nightstand beside you and twisting underneath the blankets. luke settled back down next to you. he brushed his thumb over the band-aid on your chin.

“what happened? did clarisse —”

“easy, tiger. it’s nothing — just a little scratch,” you replied.

you spared him from the whole truth. sure, there was a moment earlier when you didn’t know whether or not luke would hurt you. it was only a split second, because that wasn’t your luke. he shouldn’t have had to live with the guilt of something he did by accident, as a result of a poisoned mind.

“anyways, i should be thanking you. you’re the one who almost died saving my life. you were hanging by a thread just a few seconds ago. it seems like you’re not completely out of the woods yet.”

“well, i guess the fates are still deciding what to do with me.” he cracked a smile.

it was a bit morbid, given what you’d been through the past 12 hours, and the fact that the manticore venom clearly hadn’t left his body completely. the possibility of his death had not completely disappeared, though you supposed that, as demigods, the risk always remained higher.

fuck the gods. they weren’t your protectors. they weren’t your family.

the campers who put their whole heart into healing you and luke, the boy who risked his life for you — they were your family.

you took luke’s humor as a good sign. the luke castellan you knew — confident banter, radiant grin, heart of gold — was coming back to you.

the luke castellan you would not allow die, even if you could still feel the cool bronze of his blade linger on your chin.

(ii. he had an ego)

according to annabeth chase, it was statistically improbable for a demigod to reach drinking age. something always kills them first - a monster, a blade, a fatal flaw. the likelihood of survival only gets exponentially lower with each passing year.

she repeated that information to luke on the morning of his 21st birthday.

“thanks for the cheerful birthday wishes, sis.”

annabeth shrugged and hugged him before walking back to the athena table to finish breakfast.

"you hear that, tiger?” you pointed a syrupy fork at luke. “you are literally saying fuck you to fate, just by being alive."

"that’s the way i like it," luke quipped, and stole a blueberry from your plate.

"hey man, happy birthday." chris patted luke’s shoulder on his way to sit across from you and luke. "so, i just talked to chiron and he agreed to let us go out tonight."

you smiled between bites of your pancakes, reaching over to offer chris a triumphant fist bump.

“nice work, rodriguez.”

"we're going out tonight?"

you pressed your knee to luke's under the table.

"of course we are," you hummed. "we have a lot to celebrate."

so, you, luke, chris, and a few of your friends — beckendorf, silena, and clarisse — went into the city to celebrate. one of luke's favorite bands was playing, and you had managed to snag a few tickets. you'd all entered a bar confidently that night, the fake ids you were at once so giddy and paranoid about no longer needed.

there were few times when you could all just kick back and have fun, without having to worry about the responsibilities of being senior counselors. that night, you were all itching for a taste of freedom. or, at least, some alcohol.

"happy birthday to the one and only luke castellan: a hero by any other name!"

everyone raised their shot glasses, echoed beckendorf's words, and threw back their drinks.

the night became louder, more vibrant. yet, even as you laughed and drank and danced with your friends, there was a heaviness lingering in your chest.

for most demigods, birthdays were bittersweet. each one served as a reminder of time running out because of exactly what annabeth said that morning. most half-bloods don’t even live past their teens, let alone the age of 20. you had the blood of gods flowing in your veins, and your lives were influenced by sinister, divine forces from ancient times. you were the new generation of heroes, protagonists of those greek tragedies that made mortals weep.

there was no guarantee that this would last forever, but all of your friends — the people you loved — had beat the odds.

so, who would blame you for getting a little sentimental?

beckendorf and chris had wandered off to play pool, in hopes of winning some bets and free drinks. clarisse was flirting with some girl who caught her eye, and silena went to grab some water after having danced for a bit. you and luke were still in the crowd, swaying to the music. for one glorious moment, you were just a group of twenty-one year olds enjoying a carefree night out.

under the flashing lights, you stole a glimpse at luke. he wore a simple white tank top and ripped jeans, paired with a leather jacket and some rings he borrowed from you so he could, in his words, look more punk-rock. his curls were messy, his skin glittering with a thin sheen of sweat. the chain he layered with his usual camp necklace caught the multicolored light and highlighted the sharp angles of his collarbones.

whatever aesthetic he was going for, luke looked good. based on various eyes following him throughout the room, you assumed others thought the same as well. it made you just a little bit furious, feeling that he wasn't only yours to admire.

“you good?” luke’s voice cut through the noise, but he had to lean in close.

his fingers brushed against the section of waist exposed by your cropped top. you’d gotten so warm that you had to tie your flannel around your waist, but luke’s touch sent a shiver through your body. it made you somewhat dizzy, feeling the cold metal of those rings on your skin. even moreso, when you realized how much you wanted to kiss your best friend, sink your teeth into his smirk and taste the mint chapstick and tequila on his lips.

to be fair, you and luke had crossed that line before, and you were in the fields of asphodel ever since.

not quite friendship, not quite romance. something deeper, more volatile and electric.

you didn’t want to make things blurrier than they already were, though. whatever you acted on that night could have just been dismissed the next morning as a drunken mistake.

so, you just nodded at him and turned back towards the band as though you were never thinking about anything more than the music.

after a few more songs, luke commanded your attention once more.

“hey, didn’t you once say you wanted to start a band?”

“what do i look like, a child of apollo?” you joked, but luke raised an eyebrow at you, clearly wanting a serious answer.

it was slightly alarming, how well he knew you; through your childhood dreams and down to your core.

“in another life,” you conceded. “maybe.”

“in another life,” luke echoed. he leaned in close again. “you’d be a pretty hot drummer, and i’d be front row at every show.”

your lips could have touched if you moved your head just an inch, but he pulled away before you did. he was giving you that classic son-of-hermes smirk, the one that made everyone swoon.

the thing was, you were sure that luke knew the effect he had on people. you had seen him continuously bask in the praise of chiron and other campers, always preening for the crowd's attention, as if he had to do anything more than smile. everyone loved luke — he was handsome, charismatic, strong.

and, yeah, you weren’t immune. your fatal flaw: not loyalty, or anger, or recklessness, but luke castellan’s charm.

you had to keep yourself grounded. it would be a bad idea to cross that line again on his birthday, right?

luke licked his lips as you kept staring at him. you could tell he was waiting for you to do something.

maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the rhythm of the music vibrating through your bones, but you started thinking — fuck it.

before you could act on that impulse, some person with bright red hair stepped between you and luke. she introduced herself, telling luke she saw him from across the room, and she'd been watching him all night, and would he by any chance want to dance with her?

luke seemed flattered, interested even. he flashed her the very same smile he had just given you, which left a bitter taste in your mouth. you excused yourself before you had to hear them flirt even more.

you walked over to silena at the bar. she had a half-empty glass of ice water melting in front of her, her attention somewhere else. you sat down beside her and followed her gaze to what — who — she was looking at.

“if confessing feelings to someone is hard for aphrodite’s daughter, then there’s really no hope for the rest of us,” you tell her.

silena whipped her head towards you. her cheeks were flushed a light pink.

“i - i don’t have feelings for clarisse.”

“lena, please. we all know. well, except maybe clarisse.”

“what?” she blinked at you, eyeshadow shimmering in the light.

“yeah,” you said with a small laugh. the irony of it all: the head counselor of cabin 10 denying that she was in love with someone. “we talk about it all the time.”

“well,” silena huffed, cheeks now a bright red. “i guess i should tell you that the rest of us talk about you and luke.”

you reached over to grab her water, your throat suddenly dry.

“what about us?” you asked after finishing the drink in one long sip.

“about how you obviously both have feelings for each other. half the camp already thinks you’re dating.”

you started to crunch on whatever ice was still frozen.

“well, we aren’t.”

that reality hurt more than the sharp pain piercing your brain from ingesting too much cold, too fast. you couldn’t even spot luke in the crowd — he and the redhead had probably gone off to some private corner.

“people think love’s a joke,” silena sighed. “but they don’t realize how much power it can have over a person. it can make people —”

“cowards?” you suggested.

silena nodded solemnly. “cowards.”

neither of you said anything for a while, two love-sick half-bloods slumped over a sticky bar counter.

suddenly, silena sat up straight. she tied her black hair up into a ponytail. perfect, of course, along with her makeup. you were sure you had sweat off the glitter she had applied to your cheeks earlier.

“i am not a coward.”

without another word, silena got up and glided towards clarisse, and you were left with an empty stool next to you.

part of you was proud of her for following her heart. the other part couldn’t stop picturing someone else’s tongue down luke’s throat.

“can i get a ginger-ale, please?” you asked no one in particular, hoping that the bartender heard your request for something to ease your nausea.

“you sure you don’t want anything stronger?”

someone slid onto the barstool next to you. he looked around your age, wearing a navy and red rugby shirt. he had what looked like a pretty expensive watch on his wrist, and he was already leaning in way too close for a stranger.

“i’m fine,” you deadpanned.

“oh, come sweetheart, it’s on me.”

you scoffed at the nickname and shook your head.

the guy next to you didn’t care. he snapped to get the bartender’s attention. “two vodka tonics, please. that’s your drink, right? i’m usually pretty good at guessing.”

“dude, i said i’m fine,” you repeated through clenched teeth.

the bartender set two drinks in front of you and rugby shirt pointed towards them.

“well, i already got you a drink, so you at least owe me a conversation.” he slid the drink closer to you.

"i don't owe you anything."

"oh, come on," rugby shirt cooed. "i don't bite." he slipped his hand underneath your skirt, nails scratching along the skin of your upper thigh, through your fishnets.

you growled at the contact and stood up abruptly, more than a little coincidentally knocked the glass over. the liquid splashed onto him. his flirtatious grin melted right off his face.

“jesus christ —you bitch,” he spat. “this is what i get for trying to be nice?”

“that’s what you get for trying to grope me,” you snapped. “but i could do a lot worse if you’re in the mood.”

his face was a pissed-off shade of red, his mouth formulating a response when —

you felt luke’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. you side-eyed him, and ignored the hickey blooming at the base of his neck.

“is there a problem here?” luke’s voice was firm, steady.

it seemed like all the fight left rugby shirt’s body, and he put his hands up in surrender.

“oh, sorry dude. i didn’t realize she was taken.”

you rolled your eyes. figured that this guy would only back off if there was a jealous boyfriend in the mix.

“it’s fine, i’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“that’s for sure,” the guy continued. “your girl practically bit my head off for being nice and buying her a drink.”

your fingers tightened into a fist.

“that is not —”

“look, i gotta apologize on her behalf.”

“luke, what are you —”

“let me handle this, baby,” he hummed. “trust me, she’s normally a good girl. she just gets….harder to control after one too many drinks.”

“i am this close to throwing my next drink at you,” you insisted.

you weren't naive. you knew luke was putting on an act, but you weren't sure why he felt the need to appease this jerk and put you down in the process.

you hated the way he was acting now — arrogant, condescending, borderline sexist. you wanted to storm off, you really did, but that would mean having to tear yourself away from luke, and.... you didn't hate the firm hold he had on you.

he chuckled and raised an eyebrow at the guy knowingly, like they were the closest friends.

“see what i mean?”

“that’s quite the firecracker you got there,” the guy complimented, as though you were a prize luke had won. “those are the ones you gotta keep on a tight leash, though.”

oh, your patience was wearing thin. if luke didn't take care of this guy soon….

“don’t i know it.” luke laughed when you barred your teeth at him. “look, we all came here to have a good time. why don’t you go join your friends again, and i’ll send over some drinks.”

rugby shirt looked at luke, then nodded.

“alright. thanks, man. and sorry again for the….confusion.”

luke extended a hand, and the guy shook it.

"no hard feelings. i'll be sure to keep her on a tighter leash, though."

rugby shirt walked away, laughing. you were just about ready to bite luke's head off.

you shoved luke away from you. your whole body felt like it was on fire.

“luke castellan, i don’t care if it’s your birthday, if you ever talk to me like that again, i swear to all the gods —” you faltered when luke’s lips curled into a smirk.

that smug, gorgeous, self-important smirk.

“what?”

“i’m just waiting until you’re done chewing me out,” he said, clearly a bit amused. “you done?”

you hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “for now, i guess.”

“good, because we have about 2 minutes before our misogynistic frat buddy over there notices that something’s missing.”

he lifted his hand to show off the real prize of the night.

“you did all of that….. to steal the guy’s watch?”

“well, duh. he was being a jerk and i’m the prince of thieves, karma. gotta use my powers for good.”

luke winked at you as you stared at him in awe.

“we really should go though. the others are waiting for us outside.”

you jutted your chin towards the bruise on his neck.

"what about the redhead?"

luke flushed, adjusted his collar to hide the hickey. "i kinda lost interest when she said i was hot for an asian guy."

"oh." you ignored the triumph in your gut. "sounds like a jerk, too."

"whatever." luke shrugged. "hard to find the good ones, right?"

luke turned towards the exit.

"wait.” you tugged him back, and luke looked confused for a split second. “you're one of the good ones, luke castellan. did i ever tell you how incredibly happy i am that you were born?"

luke grinned. "you could stand to say it more often."

his smile was infectious. you liked this side of luke: protective, mischievous, a bit of a trouble-maker.

it made you want to kiss him all over again.

(iii. he lied without flinching)

you couldn’t find luke anywhere.

he wasn’t at the climbing wall, or the arena, or the forge. luke seemed to have a knack at vanishing when you needed him most.

when you finally found him, he was outside the big house, in what seemed to be a somewhat heated conversation with chris and a new camper, ethan nakamura.

ethan nakamura, son of nemesis. you were shocked when your mother’s symbol — swords crossed underneath a set of scales — appeared over his head after two weeks of staying at the hermes cabin.

you were still getting used to having a younger half-brother.

“hey,” you greeted the trio, slightly out of breath from running all over camp. as soon as you joined them, a silence fell over the group. “i was looking for you everywhere, tiger. what’s going on here?”

“actually, we were just —”

“nakamura,” luke spoke ethan’s name like a warning.

“i’m just saying, maybe we should consider —”

luke cut ethan off this time with a sharp glance.

“i already said no. end of discussion.”

“whatever you say, boss,” ethan grumbled.

the trio was silent again, and you eyed each of them suspiciously.

“okay, seriously. what’s —”

“we’ll talk more about this later, guys,” luke interrupted. his tone was commanding. ethan and chris dispersed.

once they were gone, you furrowed your brows at luke, not sure what they would be talking about that could make him speak so harshly.

“what was that about?” you asked for the third time.

“nothing important.” luke gave you a smile that seemed to stretch a bit thin. “you said you were looking for me everywhere. wanna go makeout in the hermes cabin? i’m pretty sure it’ll be empty this time of day.”

you shook your head, no matter how tempting the offer. the scene you walked into made you so uneasy that you completely forgot there was something important you needed to tell luke.

“percy and annabeth just iris-messaged me,” you explained.

“oh,” he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is their quest going alright?”

you repeated everything the kids had told you: medusa, the chimera, ares. clarisse maybe being the lightning thief. luke had to sit down on the stairs leading to the big house when you spoke that last part. you understood why — clarisse was your friend.

sitting down next to him, you sighed.

“you don’t think….you don’t think it could be true, do you?”

clarisse was hot-headed, sure, maybe a bit impulsive, but a war between the gods? that didn’t seem her style.

you hoped luke would assure you, but instead he said:

luke ran a hand through his hair. “it would make sense.”

“what?”

he leaned in close, voice low.

“clarisse was there with us during our field trip to olympus in december. the gods are arrogant enough to leave their stuff in the throne room, and there’s not really any security. she could have easily snuck in when everyone was sleeping. clarisse….” luke let out a heavy breath. “clarisse is the lightning thief.”

“no. no. she wouldn’t —”

“it makes sense, karma,” luke insisted. he placed a hand on your knee. “clarisse is angry at the gods.”

“we all are,” you pointed out.

“well, sure, but her dad is ares. how else do you get the god of war’s attention if not starting a war?”

you took a second to process luke’s reasoning. maybe he did have a point. it was just that sharp pain in your chest keeping you from believing it.

“we don’t know anything for sure,” you decided. “and until we do….we don’t tell anyone. especially chiron.”

luke squeezed your knee, gave you a reassuring smile.

“sounds like a plan.” he moved in closer and whispered: “now, how about we sneak away, and i do that thing with my tongue that makes you squirm?”

you felt something tighten in your lower abdomen. you and luke were still in the sneaking-around-camp stage of your relationship; you both got a thrill from it.

at the time, you figured luke was just offering you a much needed distraction.

he kissed just below your ear to sweeten the deal — and how were you supposed to resist?

you didn’t even question how luke knew when the bolt was stolen, let alone how he seemed to have the theft already planned out perfectly.

(iv. he hid behind a pretty face and perfect teeth)

it had been a little over a week since people around camp — including percy, annabeth, and grover, who had gotten back from their quest — found out about you and luke, together. apparently your friends had a bet going, meaning that everyone other than silena was less than thrilled about your announcement. they warmed up to the idea since then.

it still felt a little bit surreal calling luke castellan your boyfriend.

luke often played the role of the perfect demigod, the one everyone should strive to be. he paid extra attention to new campers and made them feel welcomed. he did his chores on time, stepped in if more hands were needed for kitchen patrol, and spent hours going through reports for chiron. he taught sword-fighting and encouraged younger campers to keep practicing. he did participate in the occasional prank, that mischievous child of hermes streak impossible not to indulge in, but it only made everyone adore him even more. because luke was responsible, but not boring. he was incredibly skilled and driven, but also gracious. he was sensible and charismatic.

you watched that luke — camp half-blood’s golden boy, the hero everyone either wanted to be, befriend, or date — and you were in awe. mostly, you wondered how he managed to bury the anger and resentment you knew was churning inside him, the same anger and resentment you sometimes let slip through.

no, you were not as careful as golden boy luke, who showed no malice towards the olympians. to chiron, to everyone else, luke castellan respected the gods, honored them in everything he did, and taught others to do the same.

that was not the luke who sucked a bruise onto your neck while suggesting something even you might consider blasphemous.

“we can’t just - uh,” you had to catch your breath when luke slipped his thumb underneath the band of your sports bra. “we’d get in trouble, tiger.”

you felt him chuckle against your skin.

“since when do you care about that?”

“since the king of the gods would probably strike us with lightning, or turn us into some horrible monsters, or curse us if we were caught fucking in his cabin."

"that’s only if we get caught."

luke gave you that flirtatious smile, the one he now reserved only for you.

it was that smile that led to luke settling between your legs, fucking you with his tongue and fingers, his other hand digging into your thigh to keep you from writhing too much.

zeus’ cabin was, of course, empty, since his only known child was turned into a pine tree. you and luke had tucked yourselves into the one corner where the giant statue of the god couldn’t see you, setting a sleeping bag down on the cold marble floor and your discarded clothes scattered throughout. the dome-shaped ceiling was decorated with an enchanted mosaic sky that seemed to move. the only sounds that echoed throughout the room were moans as your orgasm washed over you.

"you're so, so pretty," he mumbled, wet lips brushing the skin of your inner thigh. he stayed where he was, awfully concerned with lapping up everything.

you whined his name when you found him taking too long, already a bit sensitive and wanting him inside you.

it might have been your conscious, but you swore you could hear a storm brewing, the threat of thunder and lightning looming. the mosaic sprouted some clouds, growing darker by the second as if a countdown to your doom.

luke, on the other hand, was acting like you had all the time in the world, and then some.

he paused after his name tumbled from your lips again, and you tugged his hair. he propped his chin on your stomach to get a better look of you. luke was gorgeous, with his mess of black curls, deep brown eyes a little more dangerous than usual, smirk shining with your come.

"yes, sweetheart?"

“get up here and kiss me,” you groaned.

once again, luke took his sweet time. his mouth left a trail along your thighs and your hips, your stomach and ribs. it felt like he was worshiping every inch of your skin, scarred and uneven and tattooed as it was. luke took extra care in appreciating the sword engraved on your sternum, the tattoo that matched the one he had on his collarbone.

“hi,” luke whispered once he was face to face with you.

“hey, tiger,” you matched the softness of his voice, contrasting the harshness that followed when luke crashed his lips into yours. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and once he sucked all the air from your lungs, you had to pull away.

you informed him: “there’s a condom in my back pocket.”

“always prepared,” he noted with a smile, reaching over to get it.

you kissed luke again as he entered you, your nails scraping down his back. when he pulled away to look at you, you couldn’t meet his gaze. instead, you were mesmerized by the sharp contours of his body and the healed wounds that lingered, every scar that you knew by heart like they were your own. it might have been strange, but you had a favorite — the faint cut on his hip from when he, thalia, and annabeth were on the run and they had to jump a fence.

if luke hadn’t been thrusting into you, you would have bent down to kiss it.

“eyes up here, beautiful.”

when you complied, luke smiled and ran his thumb along your jaw.

“good girl,” he praised. “you okay if i go harder?”

you settled for kissing the scar on his cheekbone.

“yes,” you finally answered. "please."

luke brought his hand down to wrap your leg around his hip before he started moving faster. your head fell back against the marble floor, but you didn’t care about the impact. you just focused on how good it felt to have luke inside you, his strong hand on your hip, his warm breath on your skin.

after feeling you tighten around him, luke let go a bit more. he dropped his head between your neck and shoulder, his curls brushing against you. as he reached his peak, luke bit your shoulder, hard, to keep himself from groaning too loudly. you could have sworn that you heard thunder at that exact moment. in fact, it seemed to shake the entire cabin.

luke seemed to catch the threat that time, too.

there was no room for pillow talk as the two of you rushed to get dressed and get out of there before the king of the gods lost his patience and struck you with lightning, turned you into some horrible monsters, or cursed you. maybe all three, maybe something worse.

you slipped on your underwear and pants, but couldn’t find the top half of your outfit.

“do you see my shirt there?”

luke had just pulled on his boxers when he turned and passed the item to you. you weren’t sure why he paused for a second while doing it. then, he whispered:

“shit.” luke’s eyes were glued to your shoulder, where his teeth had broken skin. his cheeks flushed a bright red. whether it was shame or embarrassment, you didn’t know; but you were slightly taken aback. “i’m, i’m sorry, i — i didn’t mean to hurt you. i never want to —”

you placed your hands on his cheeks.

“hey.” you whispered at him softly, and it was enough for him to stop rambling. you could tell he felt guilty, though, since he refused to meet your gaze.

“luke, baby, look at me.”

when he finally did, your heart ached.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t done similar to luke. you’d never broken skin, sure, but luke seemed to enjoy — really enjoy — whenever you used your teeth in the heat of the moment. you just assumed he knew you wouldn’t mind the same.

but, one bite, and luke was almost reduced to tears, all because he was afraid of hurting you.

“it’s fine, okay? i’m fine.”

luke didn’t seem convinced, his brows furrowed with concern. you kissed the crease on his forehead and reassured him once more that you were fine.

“if anything, consider it payback for the hickey i left that took a week to fade away.”

luke smiled softly at that, and you knew he was coming back to you.

“you know, annabeth suggested that i go to the infirmary because of how it looked. i had to tell her i got it during sparring practice.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you laughed, and so did luke.

thunder rumbled throughout the cabin once more, and you swore the clouds were growing darker by the second.

you were about to finish getting dressed when he grabbed your waist.

“look, if i’m ever too rough whenever we’re —”

“sparring?”

“sure,” he smiled, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. “whenever we’re sparring, just promise that you’ll let me know.”

“of course,” you hummed. “only if you do the same.”

“of course,” he echoed, and he pecked your lips. “i think it’s hot, you know? when you feel like you can let go. when you mark me. i like everyone knowing that i’m yours.”

you bit back a smile, feeling your cheeks grow warm.

“well, i think it’s hot when you mark me, too. especially when you bite me,” you admitted.

“don’t tell me you’re still into the whole vampire thing,” he teased.

“oh, please. you were as obsessed with it as the rest of us. don’t you remember?”

as if either of you could forget marathoning the entire twilight saga with your friends, the six of you squeezing onto the small couch in the big house, sharing one bowl of popcorn and endless cups of coffee to stay awake.

you shivered out of the memory when he brought his fingers up to trace the bite mark he had left on you.

zeus could have sent more thunder. he could have created a whole godsdamned storm, but you wouldn’t have cared.

luke was so close that you had nothing better to do than to close the distance between you.

luke got bolder as the kiss became more heated — he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, his tongue sweeping over the crimson liquid that emerged, the tang of copper invading your mouth.

“easy there, edward,” you joked, and felt him smirk against your lips before moving to nip at your neck.

you trailed your hand down the front of his exposed stomach, outlining the contours and curves. with the moonlight reflecting in, accompanied by the crackle of lightning, it almost looked like luke’s skin was glittering.

“you’re so beautiful," you cooed, nails scraping against the tight muscles of his lower abdomen.

“this is the skin of a killer, bella!” he mimicked.

you laughed at the reference, but when luke seemed to realize what he said, you swore you felt his grip tightening on your hips, though you didn't know why.

“i never want to hurt you,” he finished the sentence you had interrupted earlier.

“you won’t.”

at the time, you didn’t think he was even capable of such a thing.

for better or for worse, that was the night you realized something.

you liked golden boy luke. or, at the very least, you tolerated him.

the rule-breaking, sin-committing, blood-sucking luke?

in the words of bella swan: he was the one you were unconditionally and irrevocably in love with.

except your life wasn't some cliché yet endearing love story about fictional vampires and werewolves.

it had monsters, too. you just didn't realize who they were until it was too late.

(v. he made you look so naive)

there was blood on your hands, but you weren’t sure who it belonged to.

yours or luke’s — it was a toss-up that made you more than a little nauseous.

luke had stolen the lightning bolt. luke had tried to frame percy and start a war between the gods. luke had begged you to join kronos’ army with him. you almost killed him because of it until you realized that he left percy to die.

you summarized everything to chiron and mr. d once you had made sure that percy was getting help in the infirmary. the scorpion poison was still putting up a fight, but percy was strong. annabeth was there with him.

dread simmered in the pit of your stomach just thinking about having to tell her everything, too — to see the look in her eyes when she hears just how much her big brother betrayed her.

“and you have no idea where mr. castellan could have gone?” chiron’s voice was stern, as usual.

you shook your head, not particularly paying attention. you could still feel blood seeping from the blademark luke had left.

“that’s awfully convenient,” mr.d scoffed.

you narrowed your eyes at him.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’ve heard around camp that you and this luke were quite…. close,” mr. d said, pointing his can of diet coke at you accusingly.

a wave of anger surged through you. it had been building in your gut ever since luke revealed his betrayal, and you didn’t care if it was a god who was on the receiving end of your wrath.

“seriously? i saved percy and told you everything, and you’re here suggesting what? that i’m somehow a traitor, too?”

“seems like the plot of a pretty twisted love story.”

your lips curled into a snarl, and you were about to pounce until chiron dismissed you.

you were in a trance for the rest of the day. chris was gone, too. ethan didn’t seem surprised. silena sobbed, clarisse comforted her, beckendorf cursed luke’s name. other campers kept asking about where their favorite counselor had gone, until they started growing weary of you.

because if golden boy luke was evil, what were the odds that his hot-headed, impertinent girlfriend was, too?

luke left you there, looking like an absolute fool for believing in him, trusting him, loving him.

you couldn’t unsee his blood on your hands. you might as well have been lady macbeth, desperately scrubbing out stains that would never leave.

vi. he was a vice you could never shake

calling all riot grrrls and punk rockers — this show is for YOU!!! come see the SIRENS OF NEW YORK perform THIS friday at joan’s bar ;)

the flyer was an obnoxiously vibrant shade of red and plastered throughout the neighborhood, and it did a good job. one of queens’ best dive bars was packed with people waiting to see the band perform: stella yamada on guitar, mohini banjaree on bass, sally mcknight on vocals — and you on drums.

it was nice and still a bit new, this relatively normal existence with relatively normal people.

you couldn’t cut off the demigod side of your life completely. there was still a war brewing, and you were in regular enough contact with camp.

but, you’d been away for a few years, trying to live the life of a non-halfblood in their early 20s. you had an apartment, a cat and a nice enough roommate. you were in school and working as a bartender to pay for rent and tuition. you had friends who, for lack of a better term, were normal. people who worried about paying off student loans and finding their passion in life, whether it be law school or feminist prose or angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion. people who spent their time in classrooms or tattoo parlors or their friends’ bathrooms at 2am while bleaching their hair after a bad breakup.

sometimes though, usually late at night when you couldn’t sleep, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life.

you missed home. you missed playing capture the flag and training in the arena and having breakfast in the dining pavilion. you missed your friends, the ones you’d grown up with.

you missed —

no. you tried not to let your mind wander towards him, or the consequences of what he did. you both drew blood the afternoon he confessed his sins to you, but he was the one who twisted the knife. he was the reason you couldn’t stand your life as a half-blood anymore.

you just tried to focus on the mortal, mundane things that now composed your everyday life, like the stage you would be performing on in 30 seconds.

before every show, your bandmates went through different degrees of anxiety. you didn’t get stage fright like them. they called you fearless, but the reality was that you had just gone up against much worse.

and yet, that night, you almost froze mid-set, just as you started a cover of the joan jett’s “you don’t know what you’ve got.”

ironically, luke had gotten you a cd of this album for your 15th birthday.

i was caught so unaware, when you made other plans.

think of the devil, and he shall appear.

it couldn’t have been him there, though. last time you heard of him, luke was growing kronos' army somewhere on the west coast.

you pushed through, even though your concentration was shaken.

i can’t stand to hear your name

you had to shake off the feeling of him watching you.

it was just that — a bad feeling, right?

you missed another beat, and mo turned around to give a concerned yet frustrated frown. joan had hinted that there might have been an agent in the audience, and you couldn’t afford to mess up.

oh baby, you really blew it.

the song ended, and your blood ran cold.

it had to be a trick of the light, seeing luke in the crowd, but just the thought of being in the same space again made it impossible to be up on that stage, so exposed.

as the band was getting ready for the next song, you slipped away, out the back door and into the alley for some fresh air. with shaky hands, you brought a cigarette between your lips and pulled out your lighter. it was a terrible habit, you knew.

those were always the ones hardest to quit and you needed a vice to keep you grounded.

so there you found yourself, shivering in your black tank top, just cropped enough that the fishnets you wore underneath red leather pants were slightly visible. the bricks were cool against your back and you exhaled into the soft evening twilight when you realized it hadn’t been a trick of the light.

“you look like buffy the vampire slayer.”

you rolled your eyes, because of course luke would do that. you were on opposite sides of an impending war between gods and titans, a world-ending conflict that luke directly enabled, and he led with a light-hearted comment like you were still the best of friends.

as if you hadn’t been on the receiving ends of each other’s blades ever since luke revealed himself to be a traitor.

“give me one reason why i shouldn’t kill you right now. ”

“because i’m alone.”

“you could still be here to kill me,” you reasoned. “or at least try.”

after everything, you wouldn’t put it past him. you known him to do a lot worse, all to people he claimed to, in a past life, care about.

luke tried again.

“because you always liked a fair fight. i came alone and unarmed.”

you scoffed, dropped your half-finished cigarette to the ground, and snuffed it out with the toe of your chunky patent boot before walking over to stand in front of luke. he put his hands up in surrender as you approached him.

“if you’re not here to fight, then why are you here?” you demanded, fingers brushing against the switchblade in your pocket. you always kept a celestial bronze weapon on you in case you came across any monsters in the city. you looked at the one in front of you, and wished you had brought a bigger knife.

“i just….i wanted — needed to see you.”

your eyes grazed luke carefully.

he looked rough. deep shadows under his eyes, hair disheveled and partially matted down, shirt wrinkled like he’d been on the run for days. his hands caked with blood and dirt, his face, too. a nasty bruise on his elbow, and what looked like another one disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

you bit down the urge to care. you had to remind yourself that luke was dangerous, cruel, and heartless. you couldn’t stand to look at him for one more second, at least not without biting his head off, or at the very least the cut on his lip.

“no. you don’t get to just —”

the door slammed open, echoed throughout the alley. stella poked her head out, guitar still strapped to her shoulder. from inside, you could hear the crowd cheering.

“jesus christ, y/n! where have you been?”

“sorry, stel. i needed a smoke break and then i ran into a — ” your voice caught on the word friend. “luke.”

his name left a poisonous taste in your mouth, and you swallowed its bitterness.

she saw luke then, who gave her that charming smile of his you hadn’t seen in forever. he extended a hand towards her, but stella just scowled at him and turned back to you.

“are you coming to finish the show?” stella demanded.

“i need to deal with this,” you told her. “i’m sor—”

stella huffed and slithered back inside before you could finish apologizing.

“great,” you laughed cynically. “now one of my best friends is pissed at me, and i might get kicked out of the band. my luck just gets worse every time you force yourself back into my life, castellan.”

you weren’t quite sure how to make of the way he looked at you — maybe apologetic, possibly desperately, definitely some sort of disguise.

“i know….i fucked up, karma.”

you glared at the use of his old nickname for you, feeling a shudder run down your spine.

“yeah, you fucked up. and now everyone, the whole world, is suffering the consequences. me, annabeth, your mom —”

“please,” luke begged once more, voice shaking now. “if you ever loved me —”

“don’t.” you barked. “if you ever loved me, you’d accept that the next time we see each other, it’ll be fighting on a battlefield. until one of us is on the ground, bleeding out, or never again.”

luke stared at you. you glared back at him.

“sorry i’m late, lukey. did i miss much?” a sickly sweet voice cut through the tension.

you turned and saw a cheerleader. she looked relatively normal, but the mismatched legs — one bronze, another furry — along with the red eyes and fangs gave her away.

“you said you were alone,” you pointed out, tilting your head towards the monster. “looks like you brought company.”

“i didn’t,” luke insisted. “kelli’s been hunting me down.”

kelli pouted. “i thought we were playing hide and seek. but it’s over now — i win. please don’t be mad, baby.”

baby. you could have laughed.

“i guess you moved on, castellan.” you meant your words to come across as mocking, so you hoped luke couldn’t sense the resentment behind them.

kelli giggled, and you thought your ears might bleed.

“he sure did,” she cooed and moved closer to luke, running a long red fingernail down his chest. he pushed her away abruptly, and kelli pouted once more. “we miss you, luke. i miss you. please come back home with me.”

“that’s not my home.”

out of everything luke had said, those were the words that got through to you. you glanced at him once more — his hands curled into fists, jaw clenched, and eyes locked on yours, panicking and pleading at the same time.

you had to give in to those pleading, panicked brown eyes.

luke didn’t have any weapons on him. all you had was a tiny pocket knife and some combat skills you’d been maintaining through kickboxing classes with your roommate, but you were willing to put them to good use.

you stepped in front of luke.

“listen — kelli, was it?” the empousa growled at you. “call me sentimental, but i can’t let you take him.”

kelli gave you a snarl, and you whipped out your switchblade. admittedly, it looked a little pathetic compared to her deadly fangs and sharp claws.

“aw, cute!” she mocked, and then pushed you backwards.

you expected to tumble into luke, but he had disappeared. seemed like you did make the wrong choice, to trust luke again.

again — the worst, most sinister habits were the hardest ones to break.

it briefly crossed your mind to chase him down after this for leading you into a trap. for now, you had a shapeshifting cheerleader to take care of.

you managed to side-step kelli’s next attack, and sliced across her arm in the process. she shrieked. her hair bursted into flames, as if your day could get any worse. you tried to get another jab in, but kelli managed to be quicker this time. she punched you in the jaw, then kicked you, hard, with a hoofed foot, causing a dull crack to your ribcage upon impact. the kick sent you spinning towards the brick wall; it stopped you from falling, but knocked the air out of your lungs. you spat, your mouth thick with the taste of blood. your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t locate your knife.

you were definitely out of practice.

“kelli!”

you both turned your attention towards luke, standing at the entrance of the alley with his sword in hand.

“luke!” kelli said like he was her long lost lover. she batted her eyelashes at him, the murderous grin she had given you melting away to something more enticing. “you came to help me finish her off.”

luke tilted his head. “not exactly.”

luke threw the sword towards you. despite a split second of surprise, you caught it; made a sharp diagonal cut. before kelli knew it, she was reduced to nothing but dust.

you dropped luke’s sword and fell to the pavement, adrenaline coursed through your veins from the first near-death experience you’d had in months. even with your body bruised and broken, fighting was a thrill like no other.

luke came to kneel in front of you, sneakers crunching over the ashes of his ex-girlfriend.

“you said you were unarmed.” your voice sounded muffled. you spat out another mouthful of blood.

“half-bloods are walking monster bait. i’d be an idiot if i didn’t have any celestial bronze on me.”

to emphasize his point, luke tucked your switchblade carefully back into your pocket. he moved his hand to the hem of your shirt. it was your instinct to keep him from lifting it up, and he stopped when he noticed your hesitation.

“i’m just trying to see how bad it is,” he informed. his lips then formed a bemused grin. “besides, i’ve already seen everything.”

“shut up,” but you smiled weakly even if it made your cheek hurt.

the skin where kelli had kicked you was turning an alarming shade of purple. luke tried to touch it, but you let out a sharp breath when pain emanated across your ribcage, and he recoiled.

“okay, we need to get you —”

“i’m fine,” you groaned. you struggled to stand up, but you urged yourself to walk away. in your mind, the scales were already balanced.

the moral, logical side of you was in danger of yielding to the wicked desire you always tried to suppress — to be with luke, even once more, just like old times. your quest for vengeance could only be stopped by your hunger for something more, and you needed distance from him before you gave in too much.

“i don’t need your help,” you insisted. “i protected you from kelli, and you gave me the sword that saved my life. we’re even.”

you started to limp away, but luke grabbed your side before you could get too far. you yelped at the contact.

“sorry,” he winced. “just — let me at least get you to a hospital.”

“what do i look like, a rockefeller?” you scoffed, and then grimaced when it felt like a giant was crushing you from the inside out. “i can’t afford that. i have some emergency nectar and ambrosia at my place, anyways.”

“let me at least get you back there, then. please.” he grabbed your hand. “i owe you.”

looking into those deep brown eyes, something in your stomach snapped.

bad habits were always the hardest to break.

“fine,” you coughed. “but one wrong move, and i swear: i’ll go full vampire slayer and pierce a wooden stake through your heart.”

luke nodded once, lips curling into a smile. “seems fair.”

you groaned as luke wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you steady, his hold terribly familiar as he carried you back home.

(vii. he loved you — and you weren’t sure if that was a fact or a weapon)

your apartment was only a few blocks away. luke must have gotten stronger, because he was able to carry you up the fire escape to avoid too much attention.

“i’m not sure if my roommate is home,” you whispered as luke set you down on the carpet by your bed. “so we should try and be quiet.”

you told him where you kept the supplies. he snuck away and emerged from the bathroom a minute later with clean hands and a first-aid kit.

luke knelt down in front of you.

“can i take your shirt off?”

you nodded, trying to keep your eyes from fluttering closed. you were so bloodied up, more so than you initially let on, so you let luke do whatever he needed to do. he took off your shirt, assessed your injury and apologized when the pressure from his fingers made you wince. he wiped the blood off your lips and coaxed your mouth open to feed you some ambrosia, offer you a sip of nectar.

there was no doubt about it: luke was taking care of you.

at first, you imagined your bones stitching themselves back together, and maybe some pieces of your heart, too.

what were the odds that he was manipulating you, though? certainly not zero.

and then you noticed something when he reached over to place the canteen of nectar back with the kit. he was moving slowly, his breathing shallow and fresh blood seeping through his shirt.

“wait. what happened?”

“nothing,” he winced. luke was always good at hiding his pain.

“luke.”

“it was a few days ago. a hellhound bit me when i was trying to escape from….”

kronos’ army. he didn’t need to say it for either of you to remember.

wordlessly, you switched your positions, led him to prop himself up on the bed frame while you crouched in front of him.

“can i take this off?”

luke nodded.

the first thing you noticed was that his muscles were more defined, yet his body was more beat-up than you'd ever seen it. there was a pretty nasty bruise on his shoulder. your eyes traveled down to the bitemark at his hip, and the haphazard stitching job luke must have done to himself. it looked like it could be infected, and with the activity from today, it was no wonder the wound reopened.

like he had done to you just seconds before, you took care of him.

“so…how are our friends?” he exhaled as you ran a cloth over his skin to clean off some of the blood.

our friends. it didn’t feel right that luke could still call them that.

“i’m guessing you know what happened to chris….” luke grimaced, and you hoped he felt a little guilty at sending one of his best friends into a madness-inducing labyrinth. “clarisse and lena broke up, and neither of them will tell me why. beck is doing fine, always coming up with stuff in the forges. i guess that’s as good as anyone can be now, inventing new weapons for a war none of us wanted.”

you couldn’t help but add that last part.

“and the kids?” luke asked as though you were divorce parents and he lost the custody battle.

you looked up at the gray streak in luke’s own hair, remembering that he had manipulated annabeth and percy to hold the weight of the world, a burden that they couldn’t seem to shake.

it made you more than a little uneasy, luke showing any sense of caring for the people he seemed to leave behind and hurt so easily. you wished he hadn’t been so tender and attentive, like all the fighting and animosity had been a bad dream.

luke just had to make everything so complicated.

“they’re fine, all things considered.”

you didn’t offer anything more, anything less.

he was quiet for a moment.

“you seem to be doing alright, though?”

you ignored the question completely that time, focusing on getting the job done. you gave luke some ambrosia and nectar, watched as the infection magically disappeared. the wound didn’t completely heal, and there were many bruises that lingered. you were about to give luke some more when he shook his head.

"you should save the rest for emergencies," he suggested, chin jutting towards your diminishing supplies. "in case something happens."

"is that a threat, castellan?" you asked, only half-joking.

"no." luke reached out to touch your face, perhaps a move to reassure you, but then he redirected himself. "besides, i'll be fine. just need to cover it with some gauze."

"you should take a shower before, then. i'll see what we have to eat."

you helped him up, and sent luke into the bathroom. you changed into clean clothes before going to look for some food.

the ambrosia and nectar made your body feel more powerful than it had in days, even before getting kicked around by a demon cheerleader. no wonder the gods felt invincible, if that was their diet. meanwhile, all you had in your kitchen was a half-empty box of cinnamon poptarts and packets of instant coffee.

you could hear your roommate singing from behind her closed door. you were quiet in toasting the breakfast pastries, and then slithered back into your room to look for something that would fit luke.

luke didn't hear you knock, so you just entered and closed the door behind you gently. on the bathroom counter, you set a pair of sweatpants that an ex had left behind, along with an oversized shirt of yours. before you could leave, there was a knock on the door. luke heard this one, and poked his head from behind the shower curtain. you gestured at him that you’d take care of it. he nodded, and closed the curtain again.

"yeah?"

"do you have any tampons in there?" your roommate's voice was muffled through the door.

"yeah," you replied. "i'll be out in a minute."

"do you mind if i just come in now? i'm bleeding out, out here."

you were about to protest, but the doorknob started to turn, and you panicked. you slipped behind the shower curtain with luke, who looked at you wide-eyed. you placed your hand over his mouth before he could say anything.

you were lucky earlier, that stella's mind was so preoccupied she didn't notice how beat-up luke was. you didn't want to take another chance. you didn't need your roommate asking questions.

once the sounds of shuffling through cupboards stopped, and you heard a small thank you followed by the door closing, luke bit your palm.

"ow!" you hissed, pulling away from him.

"she's gone,” luke shrugged. “you don't need to muzzle me anymore.”

you rolled your eyes. “i put some clothes out for you, and a clean towel.”

luke caught your wrist before you could leave.

“wait. my shoulder is killing me. do you mind…would you maybe help me….”

his question trailed off, and you furrowed your brow when he pointed the shampoo bottle in your direction.

“you practically carried me down 3 blocks and up 4 flights of stairs, but you’re too hurt to wash your own hair?”

“i guess the pain just caught up with me.” his cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. “sorry, i shouldn’t have —”

something pinched in your chest, hearing him stumble for forgiveness, even if it was so mundane. you caught yourself saying:

“i’ll do it.”

before you could decide if it was a bad idea or not. you got rid of your shorts and tied your shirt up around your waist to prevent the clothes from getting too wet. luke blushed even more at your panties and exposed stomach, as if he wasn’t fully naked — which you were, of course, trying to ignore.

neither of you said anything as you focused on the task at hand, massaging shampoo and then conditioner into luke’s curls until they were rid of the grime trapped within. all you heard were luke’s soft sighs as your fingers scraped across his scalp and steady stream of water hitting the bathroom tiles. luke seemed so relaxed that his eyelids fluttered closed, and he almost toppled over. with your own sudsy hands, you brought his hands to sit at your waist, steadying him.

the space was a little foggy, slightly too warm. you and luke had been intimate before, but never like this. it was almost enough to make you forget.

once all the soap was washed away, you brushed your fingers over the scar on his face, down to the sword tattooed along his collarbone, before you realized what you were doing.

“sorry,” you whispered, pulling your hand away.

“it’s okay,” he hummed, and he moved his hand up to brush against the very same tattoo you had on your sternum, touch burning through a layer of cotton.

you wanted his hands elsewhere — around your neck, between your legs.

the water was running cold by then, and it jolted you back to reality.

you had to keep your desires in check. luke was manipulative and cruel and ruthless — you were enemies, not friends or lovers. you weren’t supposed to want him carnally.

you reached behind him to turn the shower off without another word, and left the bathroom so he could get dressed.

neither of you were armed, but the situation was dangerous. you were barely healing from the claw marks luke left on your life and yet….

part of you wanted him to dig his fingers back into those wounds — to feel him again, even if it bled you dry in the end.

luke’s sword, backbiter, leaned against your windowsill, a menacing reminder of who he had aligned himself with. luke was essentially kronos’ right hand man. he was your enemy.

what were you doing, bringing him into your home, taking care of him and letting him do the same to you?

leaving yourself vulnerable to him, letting your guard down?

now that you thought of it, if his guard was down, you could probably grab your own knife and just —

you heard luke clear his throat and you turned to see him standing in your doorway, shirtless and sweatpants hanging low. it was embarrassing how much you wanted to lap up the drop of water traveling down his chest.

luke must have noticed, so cleared his throat again. your body felt warm all over when you met his gaze, and he gave you an annoyingly confident smirk.

“so, here’s the thing. i’m pretty sure you’re either thinking about wanting to kill me, or wanting to fuck me.”

you rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but couldn’t help but play along.

“sounds like you’ve accepted your fate either way.”

“well, i do have a preference,” he quipped. “i just don’t particularly care as long as it's in your hands.”

it didn’t get past you that luke was checking you out, too, eye trailing over the exposed skin of your legs and lingering on where the t-shirt hugged your chest.

how bad would it be to, for one night, indulge? no concern about what was right or wrong, about titans or gods; no worries about what a prophecy foretold or which side of a war you’re on.

just you and luke: giving into your own twisted desires, and dealing with the consequences later.

another droplet trickled down luke’s torso. it disappeared underneath the band of his sweatpants, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

you strode over to him, about to crash your lips into his when —

luke stopped you with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“no kissing,” he warned.

“what’s the matter?” you smirked. “i thought you liked it when i bite. worried that you’ll turn away from the dark side if i do?”

luke swallowed thickly.

you were taunting him, relishing in how his breath caught in his throat and gaze seemed fixed on your lips.

it was cute, how luke tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but couldn’t hide the slight tremble in his voice.

“no kissing. that’s my only condition.”

“okay.” you took off your shirt, positioned yourself on the bed to punctuate your point. “as long as you’re fine sleeping with the enemy, castellan.”

luke stared for a few seconds before accepting his fate.

he caged you in with his arms, settling his hips between your legs. his lips traveled down your tattooed sternum, nipping and sucking and re-bruising your skin until he reached the waistband of your panties. luke pulled it up with his teeth, the elastic snapping back when he let go. you whined his name and he looked up at you with dark eyes.

“can i?” his breath fanned over your navel, his nails digging into your hips as he waited for your answer.

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel luke smirk against your inner thigh before sinking his teeth into it. you whimpered, and luke salved his tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. he positioned your legs over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him most.

luke manipulated his tongue and fingers in all the ways he knew ruined you. in return, you gripped his black curls, tightly, and uttered praise in all the ways you knew ruined him.

“just like that, pretty boy,” you encouraged, practically melting into the mattress. it felt so good — dangerously good — to be devoured by luke. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

luke’s moan vibrated throughout your body and he became harsher, bringing you over the edge. he left a few more bites on your body on his way up to meet you and when he did, luke’s lips and chin were still shining with your release.

you leaned forward slightly to lick it up. you ghosted your mouth over his, and luke groaned when you pulled away.

“no kissing,” you mocked and ran your thumb over his tattooed collarbone.

luke tightened his grip on your hips, surely leaving bruises for later. his eyes feral, his curls a terrible mess, when he grumbled:

“you’re such a —”

you twisted your calf around luke’s leg and you flipped your positions before he could finish his sentence. he grunted as his back hit the mattress.

“don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll still take care of you,” you drawled, starting to trail your tongue down luke’s body, occasionally incorporating your teeth or sucking brutally, imprinting a constellation of bites and bruises. his skin smelled like your pomegranate mango body wash, and it was more than a little intoxicating.

you weren’t soft or gentle, because you knew how luke liked you — rough, raw, a little ruthless. luke once told you that the wounds you left on his body weren’t the type that left him bitter; they were the type of wounds he wished would never heal.

in a moment of weakness, you left a kiss — just one — on the semi-healed wound on his hip. luke sighed at the gesture and reached a hand down to gently brush his fingers against your cheek.

“i missed you so much, karma,” luke almost sobbed.

slightly shaken out of your lust, you weren’t sure whether to smirk at the hold you had on him, or sob at the reality that you missed him too.

sensing your hesitation, luke removed his hand and told you to continue.

you made quick work of luke’s sweatpants. luke, already hard and throbbing, didn’t last long with your lips wrapped around him. you swallowed him whole, and then some.

“always such a good girl for me,” luke praised when you were face to face with him once more. his thumb swiped over your wet lips to gather what you missed. you granted him access to push into your mouth, and luke groaned when you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his thumb clean. your teeth scraped the skin on his way out.

what followed was a brief squabble over who should be on top. you won out.

there you were, luke sitting up against the headboard, you on his lap with his length nestled in your cunt. you scraped your nails down luke’s chest, and then curled your hands around the base of his neck. he gripped either side of your waist, thumbs pressing circles into your back encouragingly. luke looked up at you in awe, desperate sighs leaving his mouth as you rutted your hips against his. it felt sinful and wonderful, feeling luke buried deep inside you again, stretching you deliciously. the two of you exchanging animalistic grunts as you used the other's body, chased your high.

when you rolled your hips into his at just the right angle, luke’s moans turned into whines.

“fuck it. please — kiss me.”

you stilled your hips, and luke whined some more. “are you sure?” you asked, breathing heavily.

luke nodded and gently moved you to lay on your back with him hovering over you. he leaned close, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.

“please,” luke pleaded once more.

his brown eyes looked down at you with such hunger and passion, something deep within you ached.

you kissed each other harshly, then. you still tasted him on your tongue and yourself on his. his sharp nose cut into your cheek, mouth attacking yours and vice versa. your nails pierced the skin of his shoulder as he resumed thrusting into you at a vicious pace. luke kept gnawing on your bottom lip until he made you bleed. you groaned, and he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to savor your coppery taste.

yes, luke could also be rough and raw and a little ruthless — which you always loved. but you knew, regardless, you were safe with him in that moment. all he wanted was for you to feel good.

you yanked his curls to force luke to look at you. he whimpered at having to detach himself from your lips.

“i missed you too, tiger,” you finally admitted, calling him that old affectionate nickname you promised yourself you would never use again. “i missed you so fucking much.”

luke gave you that troublesome smile of his. you connected your lips once more. you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer, and luke wrapped an arm around your back to do the same.

it wasn’t long until you both reached your peak, collapsing back onto the soft mattress, chests heaving. you each lied down on your side, facing each other. you admired luke’s mess of curls, his swollen-kiss-bitten lips, the rose-petal bruises you had left.

you wished the post-sex haze lasted longer, but then luke had to disturb it by saying:

“what you said earlier — i never think of you as my enemy, you know.”

you sighed and covered your face with your hand. “luke —”

“never,” luke insisted. he inched closer, took your hand in his and held it to his chest.

you were overwhelmed by his heartbeat, strong and fast, so you pulled yourself away.

“we’re fighting on different sides,” you pointed out.

you could’ve said more, but all the things that have been said and done already hung heavy in the air, reoccupying the space between you and bursting your brief moment of peace.

“but we’ve always been fighting for the same thing.”

maybe that was true.

in theory, you weren’t against overthrowing the gods. but you couldn't reconcile with everything luke had done, what he was willing to do. you couldn't let your friends and thousands of innocent people die in the name of divine beings who valued power and control over all else. you couldn't hurt or betray people you loved for the sake of revenge. you couldn't turn that love against them, the way luke had, in search of justice.

deep down, you knew it wasn’t right to have him there in bed with you. if it was so wicked, sinful, treacherous — then why did you want him to stay?

“i’m not sure they have a word for what we are,” you concede, returning to the conversation moments ago.

"i guess not."

you let luke bring you into his arms that time. you rested your head against his chest. his heartbeat still steady, but a little slower. you idly traced your fingers across the marks you left on him, and you avoided the ones you didn't.

"how's your shoulder?"

"it's okay," luke sighed. he lifted your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "whatever we are: i love you."

those weren’t the words that were meant to make you sick, but your stomach churned — with nausea or desire, you weren’t sure.

you moved to straddle his hips. your eyes glanced over a scar you didn't register until now. the cut you had sliced across his cheek that afternoon he tried to kill percy, and then ran away from camp. you had a similar one that he had given you during that same struggle.

matching tattoos, matching scars. there really was no word for what you and luke were to each other.

"i love you too.”

at some point throughout the night, with luke’s strong arms wrapped around you and your legs intertwined beneath tangled sheets, it occurred to you that luke must have tracked you down for a particular reason.

maybe he was here to convince you to join kronos' army, to help him overthrow the gods and burn the world as you knew it; maybe he was here to break your heart all over again, just for the sick thrill of it; maybe he did just want to have one more night together, enemies or otherwise. maybe, maybe, maybe.

luke’s soft snores lulled you to sleep, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the scales of justice.

you'd figure it out in the morning. then you'd decide whether or not he deserved a blade to the heart.

#i haven't seen the finale but from the gifs my heart is already broken #and here i am breaking it more <3 #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #saf writes #Spotify #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo show #pjo fanfic #pjo series

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gojoest · 17 days

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i’d die a thousand times for you ┊ hurt/comfort, suggestive, MDNI, gn! reader, established relationship, pet names (pretty, love), lovely banter, v brief somno mention if you squint, this blurb was provoked by ch261 (no spoilers though), not proofread we die like this, wc: 1.1k

you watched satoru carefully.

searing every feature on his precious face deep into your consciousness while he was soundly sleeping next to you — the way his nostrils flared with each breath he took and the way his eyelids slightly fluttered in slumber, cheek squished against the pillow leaving his mouth agape and drooling from the corner of it.

you thought you’d never get to see him like this ever again, not after what you witnessed with your own eyes in shinjuku.

—you shut your eyes close, tightly. shaking your head, desperately trying to dispel that sight from your memories like your life depended on it. it always reached you in your nightmares but you’d never let it catch you when awake. not when he was here.

when he came back to you, for the first time in your life, you considered it possible — that there might really be god, because his return was no miracle. it was god having mercy on you for he would never give one more than they could handle.

you trailed your fingers along his forehead — tenderly brushing back his hair that felt fluffier than ever between your fingers — before sliding them down his temple to his cheek and then to his cutely parted lips that planted a soft kiss on your fingertip.

“morning, pretty”, satoru spoke with a sleepy timbre, eyes remaining close.

“morning, handsome”, you greeted him back. “did i wake you up?”

“no, been awake for a while”, he smiled, “can’t miss my favorite part of the morning — having you be the creep and stare at me while you think i’m asleep. makes my chest swell with joy”, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at you, his smile growing bigger.

“can’t have you be the creep all the time, that’d be unfair”, you teased, shifting into a sitting position with your back against the headboard of the bed.

he rolled closer and laid his head on your lap, taking your hand into his and pecking it sweetly then putting it on his chest, right on top of his heart, while keeping his over yours. “so we’re basically switching roles?”

“that’s right”, you gave a nod. “we are”

“then there’s a lot more you need to do, i’m afraid”

“walk me through it then, please”

“alright”, he cleared his throat. “first”, he shifted your hand from his chest to the top of his head, “you need to pat me and slowly run your fingers through my hair”, his hand carefully guiding yours. “then you need to lean down a little bit and kiss the tip of my nose”

after you did as he instructed, it took him a hot minute to wipe the silly grin off his face but eventually he continued, “and now you have to caress my cheek and think very hard about how you might just die from happiness because i look ridiculously cute and you love me so very much. after you’re done thinking, you have to whisper it into my ear. you have to be very thorough with your confession, by the way — the required word count is minimum 1k”

“now you’re just making fun of me”, you softly flicked his forehead with your free hand, “no way you’re doing this to me every morning”

“i do even more than this but i don’t want to freak you out, so i’m just easing you into the basic stuff”

“more than this?”

“well of course”

“what is it?”

“can’t tell”

“come on”, you insisted.

“try to guess”, he lifted an eyebrow with a challenging look.

“okay. give me a hint and i will”

“something a freak would do”

“oh……”, a gasp left your lips at the realization, “don’t tell me you…”, gasping again you covered your mouth with your hand.

“oh, yeah”, he shook his head affirmatively.

no words were needed, a quick glance at his idiotic grin was enough to provide you with the answer. it was written all over his face — satoru would often jerk off to you while you were sleeping.

“by the way — if you’re up to fulfilling this part of the creep role, i am definitely watching. heheh”

you laughed, “that’d be off-script though — you’re supposed to be asleep while i do that or it beats the purpose”

“i can pretend to be sleeping, don’t you worry”, he adeptly assured you.

“it wouldn’t be very creep of me if you’re not in deep slumber, so — no”

his lips curved down into a pout. “fine”, he mumbled. “at least do the last part — tell me you love me”

leaning down slowly, your lips charged towards his for a short peck before you whispered into his mouth, “i love you, stinky”

“i love you too, pretty”, he reached for the back of your neck and pulled you in for another kiss. “now — say it again, but louder”

and you did. you said it again and again and again, in between every kiss, until your eyes welled up and it got harder to speak while holding back the tears.

you leaned back and covered your face with both of your hands. “i’m sorry”, you muffled.

“hey, love”, he sat up and pulled you into his arms. “shhh, come here”

he knew exactly what crossed your mind right now for the same thought occupied his as well — just as much as he was grateful to be here, to be as lucky to have this morning banter with you — so were you. in fact, he was more than lucky, perhaps even god’s favorite child, to make it back to you. thinking about the possibility of leaving you behind, alone in this bed, in this house, in this life — made his heart ache, because he was on thin ice back in shinjuku. the pain and loneliness he would’ve caused you would be a one-way ticket for him to hell — and he wasn’t having it. before you, he didn’t really care whether he’d go to hell or heaven. but now, heaven is a must. because you were an angel, and that was the only place he could meet you again if the worst were to ever happen.

“i am here”, he whispered. “i am here”, his repeated a few times until his voice started cracking and he just held you in silence.

“you better”, you pulled away from his embrace and straddled yourself on his lap. cupping his cheeks in your hands, you nuzzled your nose against his and breathed in his scent. “if you die again, i swear i will kill you”

“but if you’ll hold me like this every day, i don’t mind dying a thousand times”

“don’t ever joke about this, you idiot”

“but i am not joking. i mean it — i’d pay any price as long as i get to be with you like this”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader

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heartpascal · 1 year

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if the door wasn’t shut

▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: months of travelling with joel and ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.

▹— a/n: i don’t like the second half of this one D: but i made you guys wait long enough so i apologise!!! been super busy so this is v rushed but i hope you enjoy nonetheless

▹— warnings: angst, loss of loved ones, tlou ep 5/6 spoilers, father figure joel, reader is really scared, not proofread

masterlist | PART TWO

howl’s song associations!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known that those days in Boston QZ would’ve been the last peaceful ones for a long time, you think you might’ve treasured them more. Held them closer, let the edges sharpen when you thought of them, rather than seeing only blurred images, the memories faded.

You wouldn’t have believed it if somebody had told you. The life you lived in Boston was flawed, at best, but it was your life. Filled with violence and bloodshed, sure, but there were things you could control. Things that Joel and Tess had always made sure you could control.

Out in the wide world, the facade of control that the two adults had always kept up crumbled to dust in your hands, lost to Infected and hunters and shelters in the strangest places.

It was a difficult shift in your reality, and you tried to hide it from Joel. He had already given you so much, hell, he and Tess had provided you with a home, even when they had no obligation to do so. You owed them more than your life.

When you had met Ellie, you immediately disliked her. She grated on you, her biting words and humorous comments doing nothing but fueling your growing dislike of her. She was childish — she acted her age, showed her fear, and it was something you just couldn’t understand. You were far too used to closing down the emotion behind your eyes, to shutting away all of your baggage in a box deep in your mind.

It had worn you down, eventually. Hating her was much harder than you expected it to be, especially when she looked at you for the understanding she knew you possessed. You even watched as Joel softened up to her, far faster than he had done with you, and you couldn’t help but follow in his example, as you always tried to do.

Hushed conversations when following Joel’s tense figure, something young passing over you, something that had seemed so… far away. You had always thought that bonds like this could only exist in the world before your own, trust Ellie to prove you wrong.

But one gained friendship didn’t quite make up for all the losses. It was Tess, to start with. Something that had singed your lungs and left you breathing the smoke, something of choked words leaving you when she had revealed the bite on her shoulder. She had looked at you, that understanding passing through her eyes, grief for a life she wouldn’t get to live. You understood the gaze far more than you wanted to, and you knew that the burns scarring your insides wouldn’t fade for a very long time.

Then, it was finding out that Bill and Frank were gone.

It seemed wrong. Something so untouchable, so guarded, how could it possibly be gone? You couldn’t understand it, couldn’t understand how the few people you valued seemed to be dropping away before your very eyes, faster than you could even reach for them.

The journey seemed pointless to you, after that.

Though you felt for Ellie, that selfishness that had always been drilled into you rushed in, drowning out the empathy towards her cause. It left you with something empty inside of your chest, and you couldn’t figure out a way to fill it. You weren’t sure you wanted to.

It only got worse.

Warm days turned colder, the nights going to something nearby freezing, and then there was the events of Kansas City. You had been so sure Joel was going to die, that you and Ellie would follow soon after, that you couldn’t move. Your legs seemed frozen to the spot, and even as you heard the struggle in the other room, it didn’t quite register.

It was only when Ellie managed to get Joel through to the room you were hidden in that you managed to snap out of your fear-induced haze. Your eyes were cloudy, and after that, it was so hard to focus.

You and Ellie had found some comfort when Sam showed up alongside his older brother, Henry. They were a breath of fresh air in the hellscape of a city, and for once, you witnessed true childhood. Saw it in the way Sam scribbled on his board, in the way he laughed at whatever Ellie had written on it. It was contagious, almost.

That was probably the happiest you had been since leaving Boston, and it all fell apart so quickly. Like the first sparks of a fire squandered by the downpour of a storm.

You can’t even remember much of it. Not the big parts, anyway. You remember the little things, like the colour of Sam’s hoodie, or the splinters you got from the floorboards as you fell backwards, scrambled away from the only semblance of childhood you’d ever had. You remember looking to Henry, something in your chest begging to be let out, but choking on it before it could escape. Your remember the sound of something splattering against the wall, and you remember Joel touching your arm after the burial.

Everything was blurring together, but one thing stood out; that overwhelming fear that threatened to sweep you away with every sound you heard, every flash of movement in darkness, every loss you witnessed.

Each day it became harder to shake away the haze to your eyes, harder to feel something other than scared, harder to close that box in your brain and leave those big feelings in there. It became so prevalent, all of it weighing you down, pressing tightly against your shoulders, and somewhere along the line you knew that Joel and Ellie had noticed.

Whether it was your withdrawn behaviour, or the gaping hole ripped into your chest, you weren’t entirely sure. But they knew. Perhaps not to the extent that you believed them to, but they knew something wasn’t quite right.

And now it was the cold threatening to take the three of you — it was freezing the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, and you really weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. It had been months since Henry and Sam, but it felt like it had been both no time at all, yet so far away. Everything still felt so raw, so fresh, despite time passing as normally as ever.

Joel had somehow managed to find winter supplies for the three of you, consisting of a coat and gloves, a hat that you let Ellie take. It was enough to keep you all alive, but it didn’t stop the chill seeping into your very bones, making it feel all the more harder to keep going.

It got to the point where you just didn’t want to. Couldn’t.

“Come on,” Joel said, your name falling from him as he patted your shoulder, all of his supplies already packed up, “Time to go.”

Getting up seemed impossible, so you didn’t. Just let your eyes glaze over and watched as Joel and Ellie grabbed their weapons, glancing outside of the cabin you’d taken refuge in. Joel looked back to you, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed you hadn’t packed up any of your things, hadn’t even moved.

He looked at Ellie, frowning when she noticed, too. He made his way over, crouching down with aching knees, and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Kid, we gotta get moving.” Joel said, shaking your shoulder the slightest to gather your attention. You just looked at him, shaking your head. “C’mon. We don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t wanna go anymore, Joel.” You told him, finally admitting the words that sounded so much like defeat. You hated that the world had won, but you were so tired of fighting that you just couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but lose.

Joel shook his head, eyebrows creasing, an expression close to dumbfounded crossing his face. He couldn’t understand.

“We’re closer than we’ve ever been!” Ellie said encouragingly, the biggest smile she could muster on her face. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in her direction, instead looking down to where your fingers pulled at the loose threads on your sleeping bag.

“I can’t,” You said, much closer to tears than you had even realised. “I can’t keep doing this. Joel, I wanna go home.”

His frown just deepened, uncertainty present in every feature on his face. Joel didn’t know how to handle this, and there really wasn’t that much time to do so.

“Kid…” He sighed, before sitting down properly beside you with a pained breath.

“No, Joel, I— I want to go back. I want all of this to go away. I want Tess.” You admitted, heart pounding so hard just at the mention of the woman you had lost, and it was painful. Your chest aches the more you thought about it, and there was the realisation that you were homesick. Though you weren’t sure if that’s as for Boston, or for Tess.

“There is no goin’ back, kiddo. Tess… she’s gone. Nothin’ we can do about it.” Joel said, taking a moment to steady the shake in his voice after saying her name. It was just as painful for him as it was for you.

“I’m… I’m scared.” You confessed, voice barely a whisper, but it echoed around the empty walls of the cabin. The confession almost scared Joel, he knew you preferred to keep everything locked tightly, never admitting to the fear he knew was there. “All the time,” You continued, lips trembling around the words, “And it’s all I can think about. I can’t keep doing this. Every time we meet something I just get so scared, I can’t move, can’t speak.”

“It’s okay to be scared—” Joel tried.

“No, it’s not! It’s like I’m frozen, and every time, I lose someone. I can’t watch you guys die. I can’t do it.” You cut him off, the tears falling from your eyes as you looked at Joel.

He couldn’t do much more than frown, unsure how he could fix something like this. He knew the feeling more than you could imagine, so familiar it was the clearest thing he could remember. Joel had felt this way for years, but he was an adult. He had people relying on him, he couldn’t shut down in the way he knew you wanted to.

“We’re not gonna die,” Joel said, hesitantly. It was stupid to make promises in this world, especially when danger and the unknown lurked around every corner. “We’re all goin’ to be just fine. Listen to me, kid, we’re gonna get this done, and then we’re all gonna find somewhere, no infected, and we’ll just live. But we need to get through this, first.”

You shook your head, turning away from him, and he glanced to where Ellie stood, the guilt flooded onto her face.

“You two listenin’?” Joel asked, beginning to pick up your things and shove them into your backpack. “We’re getting close now. It’s almost over. Got nothin’ to worry about.”

“He’s right,” Ellie said, quietly, passing Joel something to put in your bag. “Let’s just get this over with.”

They packed up your things around you, Joel grabbing your arms to help you to your feet, and Ellie linked arms with you as soon as you were up. Together, they managed to get you out of the cabin, back out into the cold.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You had been so sure that one of you was going to die when the people on horses showed up, guns trained on each of you in turn. You thought it was going to be Joel when he shoved you and Ellie behind him, his head spinning around, taking count of the people who were a danger to you.

Then, they brought out their dog, and your heart stopped when they directed it towards Ellie. It was going to be her, you were almost sure of it, thought that it would get a whiff of something from the bite scarred over her forearm.

You held your breath for a long time, not able to let it go even when the dog settled, playing happily with Ellie. Surely, these people would shoot you, regardless. They certainly didn’t seem very friendly.

But no, they were taking you back to their town, with you and Joel sharing a horse while Ellie rode on her own. You’d never ridden on a horse, and before, you may have enjoyed the experience, but you could only feel that suffocating fear that made you choke on your words, so scared that these people were taking you to their town just to kill you. Or worse. You’d heard of people who do worse.

You couldn’t get the words out to express your concern to Joel, forced to stay silent and cling on to him as the three of you made your way past the walls, surrounded by strangers. You shared a look with Ellie, that nervous understanding shared between the two of you once more.

Your fingers twitch, aching to wrap around your gun, but that was the first thing these people had taken. Then it was your knife. And then the axe Joel had you storing in the side of your bag. It didn’t help that helpless feeling, that fear clogging your throat.

Joel’s tense frame loosens suddenly, something like relief sinking into his bones as he shouts, “Tommy!” A man immediately looking up from where he was stood atop of some scaffolding. Joel slides off of the horse, handing the reigns to you, before meeting his brother halfway in a tight hug.

Ellie frowns, and you understand the furrow to her brows as you looked at Joel and his brother. He was all the two of you had.

The two of you stick together as you follow Joel to wherever his brother is leading the three of you, sharing nervous glances and only just about relaxing when you’re seated with hot meals in front of you.

You did your best to tune as much of the conversation out as possible, even ignoring Joel’s comment about slowing down, as you shoved as much food as you could into your mouth while the opportunity was there. After all, who knew how long this would last?

Ellie kicked your leg when Tommy mentioned about a tour, the two of you reluctantly leaving your plates behind to follow the three adults. Maria went on with her touring speech, talking about when and how they settled in the town, with Tommy pitching in about the shared resources. It was only when she talked about separating you and Ellie from Joel that your attention was really caught.

“Joel.” You said, urgency in your voice, a pleading look sent his way as he wrung his hands together, his brother already heading in his direction.

“You’ll be fine.” He said to you and Ellie, nodding in your direction and missing the look of defeat you and Ellie shared as he walked away.

“Shall we?” Maria asked, looking between you and Ellie. She was half-turned away already, but caught the way you both gazed nervously at Joel’s turned back. The two of you nodded, following behind her as she made her way through the town, clearly as familiar to her as the back of her hand.

Ellie answered all of Maria’s idle questions whilst walking alongside her, though her answers were slightly withdrawn. It comforted you, even the slightest bit, to know that you weren’t the only one who was feeling distrustful towards this place. That you weren’t the only one on edge.

Maria opened the door to the house you, Ellie and Joel were meant to be staying in, swatting a hand in front of her face as dust rose up from the untouched surfaces.

“Homely.” Ellie commented, stepping around Maria to peek into the living room, and then the kitchen, whilst you remained beside the door with Maria.

“It’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm. And it’s got running water.” Maria said, despite this being more than any of you had had in a very long time. She smiled tightly at you, head dipping as she looked around. “Make yourselves at home.”

“When do I get my gun back?” You asked, probably the most you had spoken since your slight… outburst at the cabin, just a few days prior.

“Kids ‘round here aren’t armed. Nobody is.” Maria answered, eyebrows creased as she looked at you.

“Right, well I’m not a part of your commune, or whatever, so I want back what’s mine.” You replied, with more heat to the words than would’ve been considered respectful. You couldn’t really find it in yourself to care, though, because how were you meant to defend yourselves if you had no weapons? Especially considering Maria clearly didn’t want Joel here, and by extension, you and Ellie.

Maria sighed, a slight exhale from her nose, and you stepped away from her, looking towards Ellie, who stared right back at you with something nervous in her gaze. “We’ll talk about all this later, okay? How about you guys go take a shower, and I’ll grab you some new clothes.”

Ellie nodded, practically leaping up the stairs, and you heard doors slamming open until she finally found the bathroom, yelling an: “Aha!”

“There’s just the one shower in this house, but if you wanna have one now, mine and Tommy’s house is just across the street.” Maria offered, kindly.

“I’d rather wait.” You replied, voice snappier than you expected it to be, but you bounded up the stairs and flopped down in the first room you found.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Ellie had taken forever in the shower, so it was a while before you finally took your turn. As much as you hated to admit it, the warm water cleared away much of your bitterness towards this place. It felt good. Finally being clean, properly clean, after going so long living off of what little you could take when travelling across the country. You hadn't had a shower like this since Bill and Frank’s — and you hated thinking of it.

Maria had been around earlier, bringing two piles of clothes hanging in each arm, dumping them on the bed outside of the bathroom Ellie had been showering in. You hadn’t acknowledged her, so she had nodded and left quickly.

You didn’t exactly enjoy feeling like you owed anybody anything, but you had to admit that slipping on the clean clothes that Maria had left felt good. Wearing the long sleeved t-shirt underneath a thick jumper was probably the warmest you’d been in a long time, not that you would’ve admitted that to anybody.

The small part of you that had been numbed for the past few weeks began to thaw, and you felt almost embarrassed of how you had treated Maria earlier on — despite you having every right to act in such a manner. So, with a huffed breath of annoyance, you decided to follow the note the woman had left, and made your way across the street.

She had shouted to come in almost as soon as you had knocked, and you opened the door hesitantly.

The first thing you noticed was the sound of hair scissors, and it sent a pang through your chest. Then you heard Maria and Ellie chatting, and followed the noise. The chalkboard in her living room caught your eye, and you frowned as you passed by it.

“What’s going on?” You asked, eyebrows drawn together as you stepped into the room to see Ellie putting up her short hair.

“Just a trim,” Maria said, waving the scissors in her hand, “You’re up next.”

She noticed the way you tensed, drawing your arms back up towards your chest as your eyebrows furrowed further. It was defensive, the way you immediately curled in on yourself.

“No, no, I— I don’t want my hair cut.” By you were the words missing from the sentence, going unsaid but not unheard as one of your hands reached up to hold onto the too-long ends of your hair. They were splintering, and unhealthy, but you couldn’t do it.

The last person to cut your hair had been Tess — a memory you treasured, held so close that it almost hurt to think about. It was one of those things that had come naturally at the time, but felt so taken for granted once Tess was gone. You could remember the evenings so clearly, one of the only times that she allowed herself to come across as something almost maternal.

It would feel like you were betraying her, her memory, to allow someone else to take scissors to your hair. It was a job that belonged to Tess, and Tess only. You pretended it didn't hurt, the length your hair had grown. She would’ve never let it get this long.

Maria frowned, but seemed to take your defensive words and body language for a good enough answer. She placed the scissors on the counter, an act of truce, if you had ever seen one.

“Okay,” She said, hands up in surrender, before she reached to the counter and grabbed the coat that had been laid there. “Here, put this on. We’re going to the movies.”

You had no choice but to do so, tugging the coat on and resorting to holding it closed with your arms folded across your chest when your fingers trembled on the zipper. Ellie glanced at you with a frown, and checked you were following her and Maria out of the door, just huffing out a small sigh as you closed the door behind you, hurrying to catch up.

Sitting around a bunch of kids was one of the weirdest things to happen to you. You’d spent most of your life surrounded by only Joel and Tess, occasionally Bill and Frank, hell — Ellie was the first person your age that you’d really spoken to. After everything the two of you had been through, being surrounded by children felt much stranger to you than being surrounded by adults.

You could understand adults, to a certain extent. Kids… were a different story. So transfixed on the movie projected on the wall ahead, which you couldn’t understand. You felt vulnerable, sat in the middle of the room. Out of the loop, even, as adults watched and chatted around the edges of the room.

It was why you went to find Maria whilst Ellie followed Tommy out of the place, confused on why she had brought you here. “What am I meant to be doing here?” You asked her, when you finally found her standing to the side, gazing at the movie.

“We’re at the movies,” She laughed, saying your name, “You’re meant to be watching the movie.”

“Why?” You asked, incredulously, because how did this help anybody? Watching fake people in an image against the wall might’ve fascinated you, but you were nervous. Paranoid. At any moment, they could have people breaking into the town, knocking down the walls, anything… so why waste time and people watching a movie? To you, it would’ve made more sense to have more of these people stationed as guards.

“Entertainment,” Maria offered, moving from where she had been leaning against the half-wall. “Whatever you wanna call it. You’re not out in the wilderness, anymore. You’re safe. Take some time, enjoy the film.” She told you, and you hated the sympathy that she held in her gaze.

You moved to say something, but followed Maria’s gaze to see Tommy walking back through the doors. Without another word to her, you were shoving your way through the crowd and pushing the door open, back out into the cold air.

By the time you found your way to the house on Rancher Street, both doors at the top of the stairs were tightly shut. You frowned, unsure why they would’ve shut them, and made your way up to the room Ellie was in.

“Ellie?” You whispered into the darkness of the room, seeing her turned away from the door as she lay on the bed. She was still, and remained quiet. With a sigh, you closed the door and crossed the hall, opening Joel’s door with the same results.

You tiptoed back downstairs, frowning as you laid a blanket across the couch, swatting the dust that rose to the air.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Waking up to an empty house stirred the panic that you had been storing away. You felt frantic as you tumbled up the stairs, ripping the covers away from the unmade beds as if Ellie or Joel could’ve been hiding beneath them. But finding nothing just made everything so much worse, because what if you were right all along?

Anybody could’ve come into the house, caught the two of them off guard, and what could they have done? All of your weapons were taken from you, which meant no defence, and no deterrent.

You were ripping the kitchen apart before you could think to do much else, pulling drawers out and sending the dusty contents crashing to the floor. In the end, you found nothing of use — the sharp cutlery had long since been taken, leaving dust in the empty compartment that should’ve held knives.

Your last resort was the plate you had smashed against the counter, leaving a dent in the material upon impact. Blood trickled down your cheek from a minuscule cut, the result of a tiny piece of ceramic. You grabbed the sharpest piece of the plate in a gloved hand, and marched out of the front door.

Upon entering Tommy and Maria’s house, you were greeted with nothing but silence, despite the impact the door had made against the wall when you had opened it. A small piece of paper on their kitchen counter caught your eye, and you snatched it up.

Going to the stables first thing. Love you - Tommy.

The edge of the paper was crinkled, and you figured that Maria must’ve seen it already.

Your run to the stables was frantic, and not at all subtle. People stared as you practically sprinted across the town, almost slipping on patches of ice that blended in with the snow. “Slow down, girl!” Somebody had shouted at you as you passed, but you just gripped the sharp ceramic tighter, barely feeling the way it had begun to tear at your glove.

“Joel, Ellie!” You shouted, almost hysterically, as you finally saw the two of them. Ellie was already sat upon a horse, holding the reins as Joel spoke to his brother. They both turned to face you as you approached, an almost defeated look matching each other’s expressions. “What—What’s going on?” You asked, stumbling into Joel and feeling him grasp on to your shoulders to get you to finally stop.

Joel shared a look with Tommy, who looked back at him with what was almost sympathy.

“Kid, I…” He sighed, rubbing a gloved hand down his face as his speech trailed off.

“What?” You snapped, gripping the ceramic tighter.

“Listen to me,” Joel said, his hand squeezing your shoulder as he said the words. “Me and Ellie are heading to the University—”

“Let—Let me grab my bag.” You told him, trying to turn away but feeling his grip tighten before he turned you back to face him, a bracing expression on his face. He looked almost pained.

“You’re not listening!” He told you, sounding far too close to frustration. “Me and Ellie. Not you.” He repeated, watching carefully the way your furrowed eyebrows fell, something so similar to grief presenting itself in the way your whole expression fell apart.

You looked to Ellie, only to find her gaze averted, and shook your head as you turned back to Joel. “What? You’re— You’re what? Leaving me behind?”

“It’s not fair for us to ask you to—”

You cut him off, stumbling back and away from his hands, and watched as they fell from the air where they had held on to you. “It’s not fair?” You asked, trembling from something other than the cold as you looked at the only man you had ever trusted.

The ceramic in your palm fell to the ground, fibres of your glove clinging to the edges of it. Joel frowned.

“Not fair?” You repeated, at the sound of their silence. “You know what’s not fair, Joel?” You questioned, stepping forward to push your hands against his chest, feeling your chest ache when he did nothing to stop you. “Following you two, all this way, just for you to fucking abandon me!”

“We’re not abandoning you!” Ellie said, then, her voice sounding just as childish as the words did. Because if they weren’t abandoning you, what were they doing? They hadn’t even said goodbye — if it weren’t for you running out here, after waking up to find them gone, you might have never even seen them again.

“Yes, you are!” You yelled at here, feeling your throat clog up as your vision went cloudy, “And after everything…—”

You stared between them, waiting for them to have a response, but neither of them did.

“I lost everything, following you here. Everything! It’s all gone. Tess…” You trailed off, feeling tears bubble at the corners of your eyes as you said her name. It was a betrayal, more than anything. If it weren’t for this whole adventure, Tess would’ve been alive. Bill and Frank, maybe not, but Tess.

“That ain’t fair, kiddo, we—”

“None of this has been fair. None of it! And you—you were just going to fucking leave me! How’s that for fair?” You asked desperately, despite knowing that no answer they could give would be what you wanted. All of your fear over losing them, it had never considered that they may leave of their own accord.

Maria said your name, approaching from behind you, and you didn't flinch when she placed a hand on your shoulder. You missed the pain on Joel’s face at the way you allowed her to comfort you, but had moved away from his attempts. She pulled you a step back from him, and another, until she finally turned you away as your tears spilled over.

Tommy shook his head when Joel made a move to follow the two of you, and you pretended not to notice their gazes on you as they strode by.

“How could they just…” Your voice broke off at the edges, and you felt the haze to your eyes returning as you looked at Maria, the realisation that you were alone hitting you harder than any of your fear ever had. That was fear; a possibility of what could happen, whereas this… this was reality.

And your reality was that nobody loved you enough to stay.

PART TWO

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller angst #joel miller father figure #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #tlou imagines #tlou one shot #joel miller platonic #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #heartpascal writes

4K notes · View notes

foli-vora · 1 year

Text

radio static

pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this gif is a fucking mess but i refuse to fight with photoshop any longer otherwise i will literally throw my computer out of the fucking window. anyway. ep 1 got me all kinds of fucked up. enjoy some porn with very minimal plot.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: very brief mention of something happening but no details and no spoilers. swearing, domestic softness, couples banter, SMUT 18+ ONLY: oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, brief handjob, nipple biting, creampie

It’s a hazy roll of pleasure, the bliss swimming through your bloodstream and stretching out along your limbs in waves upon waves of static heat.

He’s taking you nowhere fast, instead choosing to take his time, bouncing between leisurely working at your clit with firm, wide strokes of his tongue and dipping lower to force the muscle into your cunt and taste you deeper.

The threat of the climb lingers in the pit of your stomach, curdling low in your core and twisting further with every slick hot swipe and circle over your swollen clit. He’s doing it on purpose, dragging out your pleasure and intent on making you beg for it.

Soon—the words are already building in your throat.

A small part of you, the very small part of your mind that stays aware of what’s going on beyond Joel’s mouth, picks up on the sudden halt to the soft music that had been falling from the speaker next to your head, but it’s not enough to pry your attention away completely, not until the words destruction and mass incident suddenly break through the fog of lazy ecstasy hanging over your mind.

Would that explain the increase of emergency vehicles you’d seen on the roads lately? Is something happening? The reporter didn’t seem to be too panicked, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. It was their job to keep the calm forced into their voices. Mass incident? Destruction? What could it all mean? Were you all in danger?

“Can you turn that up?” You ask quietly, now distracted from the lips that break away from your cunt and press along the heated skin of your thigh. “The news—”

“Jesus,” Joel mutters against you before pulling away and looking up at you, “I’m out here with my head between your thighs, and you’re listenin’ to the fuckin’ news? You tryin’ to tell me somethin’, honey?”

“No, it just sounds important is all. Just for a minute, baby—please?”

He huffs quietly against you.

Chuckling softly, you jerk away from the blunt edges of teeth that gently dig into your flesh with a startled cry and swat at him. His tell tale smile curls against your skin before he lifts himself up with a low groan, bracing his arms on either side of your torso and reaching over to turn the dial on his alarm radio.

You ache at the loss of his mouth, your clit throbbing from the sudden lack of attention. The desperate clench of your core is almost enough to shove him back down there and forget the whole fucking thing.

He couldn’t seem to care less about what they were saying, returning to licking and nipping at your skin, planting kiss after kiss along your collarbone and trying very hard to pry your attention away from the story falling from the speaker.

He succeeds for the most part, your eyes fluttering when a hot mouth encloses over a nipple and sucks at the stiffened peak firmly, his large calloused hand wrapping around the other and squeezing the supple flesh greedily.

The news… focus. What was that about injuries? God, who cares—

“Joel,” you sigh softly, winding your fingers through his ruffled hair and tugging at the dark tresses, “I’m trying to listen—”

“And I was tryin’ t’have a nice meal, but someone had other plans—the goddamn news,” he rumbles in rough amusement, grinning against your tit before tracing his way to the other side. “You just let me know when you’re done and I’ll get right back to borin’ you.”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you groan, unable to keep the growing smile from tugging at your lips and back arching from the teeth that pluck at your nipple, your features briefly creasing from the shock of delicious pain. “Oh fu—again—”

He does. He nips and bites until you’re squirming under him, your hands clawing at his shoulders. His next bite is sharper than the last and enough to tear a whine from your throat from the harsh force of it. The sharp sting shoots straight to your core, the muscles of your cunt tightening as heat continues to curdle in the pit of your stomach.

A slick swipe of tongue soothes the leftover ache, the muscle winding round and round the abused bud and all thoughts of listening to the stupid news leave your mind.

Your fingers tighten in his hair and pull, tearing him away from your skin and diving forward to meld your mouth against his. It’s messy the instant his lips part, the kiss full of tongue and teeth with the taste of your cunt still lingering and now melting into your tastebuds.

“Careful,” he murmurs into your mouth, grinding the thick, hardened feel of his covered cock against your core, “don’t want to miss the weather report.”

“Dick,” you moan softly, feeling the soft cotton of his sweats dampen as they drag against your folds, “you know damn well you weren’t boring me.”

His chuckle is low, merely a rumble in his chest, but it sticks in his throat when you slip a hand beneath his waistband and wrap your fingers firmly around his hard cock, the thick length of it swelling in your hold. His hips jolt, briefly thrusting into your grip, and you’re the one chuckling now, your lips curled up against the brush of his facial hair.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?”

You tighten your hold, brushing the pad of your thumb over the weeping tip, smearing precum over his smooth skin before starting a steady pace up and down his length.

“Fuck—” his face crumbles, eyes slamming shut as the little dent between his brows deepens. “Move your hand out of the way, pretty girl, m-move—”

His fingers shake as they bat your hand out of the way, the long digits quickly wrapping around his cock and giving it one firm pump before lining up with your entrance and pushing forward. You hide your face in his shoulder, muffling your moan against his hot skin as his balls press tight against your ass.

“So fuckin’ warm,” he rasps into your throat, bracing himself on his elbows and encasing you into the mattress. “So—fuck, honey—”

He gives another thrust, pulling halfway out before rocking back forward, soon finding a steady rhythm that has you clutching at his back. The sounds falling your lips are caught on skin, the remaining sound of the muted cocktail of whines and groans dampened by the music now playing again.

“Joel, baby—” you breathe, running a hand along his throat and brushing a thumb over his lips as he works your body higher, his pubic bone rubbing and pushing against your aching clit with every upwards thrust, “—I love you.”

He physically shudders at your words, the cage of his arms hot and familiar. He nods, mouth hungry and messy as it tries to claim yours and you’re desperate to match his energy. The bed starts to give a creak with every steady plunge of his hips, and his hand flies up to clutch at the headboard, his biceps tensing with the effort he puts into silencing the bed.

“I—s-shit—I love you,” he pants, the hot breath of his sharp exhales washing over your mouth. “I’m not—I can’t—fuck, play with yourself, honey—p-please. Make yourself cum, show me—”

His thighs roll up beneath yours and soon he’s rising away from you to kneel, keeping a hand locked around the top of the headboard and using it as leverage to thrust up harder into your cunt. It’s takes every bit of energy to not fucking wail, one hand flying up to brace yourself and the other falling to where your clit throbs.

He watches, frown heavy and focused, as you press the pads of your fingertips to the swollen nerve, the muscles in your thighs twitching and tensing with the delicious attention.

It takes only a few circles of your deft fingers to send you over the long built up edge Joel had lazily built in your core, your face turning to hide in your outstretched arm to quieten your sounds of pure fucking bliss. He soon follows after you, urged on by the flutter and tightening of your hot walls around him.

The muscles along his jaw tighten with the effort he uses to keep quiet, his face creased and lost in his own waves of ecstasy as he fills you. Your cunt tightens around him one final time, the warmth of his cum soon seeping out from where his cock disappears into you.

He drops onto his back next to you, automatically raising his arm to welcome you into his side and you press into his body heat, pressing a wet kiss to his chest and trying to calm your breathing.

“Shit, were we too loud?”

You chuckle quietly, rest your chin over the hand splayed over his chest. “She sleeps like her daddy—she wouldn’t have heard a thing.”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“That you guys are heavy sleepers, and it’s a surprise your alarm clock actually wakes you most of the time,” you grin, the curl of it widening when he rolls his eyes.

The steady blink of his clock catches your eye and you soften, stretching to press a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling them twitch at your feather light touch. He sighs calmly under your affection, his dark eyes openly searching yours and warming when you catch him.

“Oh, would you look at that,” you murmur softly, “happy birthday, handsome.”

i was gonna start all diff tags but i really cbf right now. i’ve just used my everything pp one - if you’re not interested soz x

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @artsymaddie, @untitledarea, @sukunababe, @emiemiemiii, @your-slutty-gf, @wisecolornight

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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cozykali · 1 month

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Heartbeats (Astarion’s POV)

I downloaded Baldur’s gate 3 and immediately feel for this sexy vampire the moment he tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my neck. I’m in act 2 right now (no spoilers!) and the brainrot is BAD. I’ve read some amazing period sex fics involving Astarion but I wanted to craft one from his perspective. Let me know your thoughts!

Master list can be found here!

Pairing: Astarion x fem Tav/reader

Rating: SMUT! NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Words: 4700

TW: (this fic is FLITHY), mentions of death and dying, biting (duh), drinking blood, period sex, blood kink, oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, kissing, fingers, stalking, multiple Os, passing out, blood-loss, mentions of past torture/trauma, tension, begging, fluffy ending, ‘who did this to you?’,

Notes: Tav and Astarion have been travelling together for a few weeks. No romance scenes have happened yet, but she allows him to feed on her nearly every night. She hasn’t seen his scars yet. Tav is on her period and it’s making her vampire friend go crazy. Tav has feelings for Astarion but hasn’t acted upon them. This story is told from Astarion’s perspective. Tav can be any race or class you want (probably not durge though).

Bonus: Check out this massive playlist I made inspired by Astarion!

The fading fire crackled softly; its once licking flames now reduced to gentle, glowing embers. A thin line of smoke ascends into the damp air that coats the earth in a delicate layer of cool dew.

Astarion lies beside the fire on his bedroll, flat on his back, with his arms slightly splayed at his sides. Most nights, he is grateful that he doesn’t need sleep like his companions do. He can immerse himself in the peaceful sounds of the night, meditate, slow his breath, and calm his mind without slipping into unconsciousness. This ability had saved his life on more than one occasion.

However, tonight is different. Tonight, he wishes for sleep to claim him. He longs to drift away and escape the torment of the spell unknowingly cast upon him by Tav. He turns his head to gaze through the soft light of the fire in her direction.

Tav is laying on her side facing the fire, her mouth slightly open as she emits soft snores barely audible over the crackling flames. But what troubles Astarion tonight is her scent. It wafts through the acrid smoke of the fire like a gentle breeze through a sail, sweet as usual, but it’s currently mixed with blood and musk.

Astarion has been avoiding Tav for the better part of two days now. Whenever she drew near, he held his breath and averted his gaze. He knew he must keep his distance from her, because the alternative would be ripping her apart, which would not win any favors with the rest of the party.

Tav has also been careful around him. She must know that he can sense her menses. Despite inviting him to feed on her each night for nearly two weeks, tonight she did not proposition him, nor the night before. Last night, his attempt to catch a deer had been futile, leaving Tav as his last meal.

Lying on his bedroll, Astarion stares up at the stars, after a seemingly endless eternity for an immortal being, he hears Tav stir slightly. He glances over at her curiously, hoping she doesn’t notice his gaze. She lets out a quiet groan, clutching her lower stomach before curling into a fetal position, her face contorted in pain. Moments later, she slowly starts to rise.

Tav stumbles to fetch a flask of water, guzzling it down greedily. Astarion envies her ease in quenching her thirst while his own thirst rages inside him. Before long, he senses her absence, her scent growing fainter. He debates whether to leave her to sort herself out, but the primal urge to hunt and stalk his prey cannot be ignored.

Rising slowly, Astarion follows her scent through the trees to a nearby stream. His movements are fluid and silent as he approaches her. Tav is kneeling in front of the water, wringing out a blood-soaked cloth.

"Seems such a waste to wash that delicious blood away, darling," Astarion's voice, silky and smooth as velvet, slices through the night like a dagger. Tav lets out a startled squeal, spinning to face him.

"Astarion!" Her voice cracks with surprise as she stumbles back, but his hand shoots out to steady her, his touch cool against the small of her back as he prevents her from falling into the rocky stream.

His gaze is locked onto Tav's eyes, wide with astonishment, her pupils are dilated so only faint rings of color remain around dark voids. With his keen elven senses, he can hear the rapid thrum of her heart beneath her chest. Releasing her gently, Astarion steps back, his posture graceful and poised.

"Sorry, my dear," he says, softening his tone to one less intimidating. "I was merely ensuring no creatures were stalking you in the night as you wandered off. There are far worse dangers in these woods than bears, you know?"

"You mean like you?" Tav's words are sharp, but Astarion detects the faint quiver of her bottom lip.

"I just prevented you from bashing your skull on those wet rocks, and this is the gratitude I receive?" Astarion scoffs.

"I wouldn't have nearly slipped if you hadn't snuck up on me, asshole," Tav retorts, pushing him in the chest, though his feet remain firmly planted.

"Oh, my, you look adorable when you're angry," Astarion can’t help but smirk at her.

Tav lets out a frustrated grunt, attempting to stomp away, but Astarion catches her arm before she can pass him. Confusion clouds her face as she searches for an explanation for his unusual behavior. The facade of his usual sassy indifference had vanished, replaced by a tumult of desire and longing.

"Are you here to bite me?" Tav's voice trembles, strained as if she’s fighting back a scream. "I thought you were better than that. You promised me you wouldn’t feed on me unless I asked you to."

Astarion reaches out and takes the wet cloth from her hand, the hunger gnawing at him like a demon. Shamelessly, he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. His vision is blurred, his head swimming in the intoxicating scent of her body that lingers on the fabric.

"Astarion, knock it off! You’re freaking me out," Tav snaps, snatching the cloth back and tossing it into the dirt.

"Tav," he whimpers, hating the desperation in his voice. Slowly, he releases her wrist, turning away to pinch his brows in an attempt to ease the splitting headache caused by her overwhelming scent.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" Tav's voice remains cold, but concern flickers in her eyes as she speaks. She feels sorry for him.

Astarion straightens his stance, clearing his throat. "I apologize that I disturbed you. I’m not thinking straight," he announces before turning to walk back to camp.

"Wait," Tav said, and he freezes.

"I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. That I haven’t asked you to bite me the past few nights. I know you must know I’m on my period," she admits, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn’t know how you felt about it. I can see now that it’s driving you to madness, but I thought ignoring it was the best course of action. It’s embarrassing, really, and I’m having terrible pains in my stomach."

Astarion closes the distance between them in two swift strides.

"It’s hard to see you like this, so crazed with hunger, and I…" Tav's words falter as Astarion gently places his hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

"Shh, Tav, my sweet. You’re going to put me in a second grave," he murmurs.

To his surprise, Tav presses her face into his with a gentle kiss, and Astarion's eyes close as a deep growl rumbles from his chest.

Tav removes her lips, "I’m sorry that was stupid of me to…" but Astarion wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing her body against his. He kisses her ravenously. His sharp fangs scrape softly on her bottom lip. A sensation of an unraveling overwhelms Astarion as he kisses Tav. It's a mixture of desire, longing, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. This feeling is unfamiliar to him, stirring emotions he's long kept buried beneath his cool exterior.

She relaxes in his arms, sinking deeper into his kiss. Her hand reaches up to ruffle his soft white curls while the other slips under his linen shirt, exploring the ridges and lines of his abdomen.

As they momentarily break their kiss, Astarion feels a rush of dizziness. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into the curve of her shoulder. His tongue traces the faint marks on her skin, remnants of the nightly feedings he's had days prior. Despite the hunger clawing at him, he restrains himself from indulging further.

His hands, trembling with desire, slide down to the hem of Tav's shirt. He breathes against her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "May I?" Without a word, she responds by lifting her arms, granting him permission. In one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her skin. Astarion’s hands cup her breasts. The soft sound she emits as his mouth finds her nipple is music to his ears.

"Please, I need to taste you." He pleas between nibbles and licks on her chest. He no longer feels ashamed by his desperation.

"Oh, Astarion." Tav smiles, "You look so pretty when you beg."

“Gods," he groans, then steps back to remove his shirt before kneeling to the ground in front of her, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Tav," his voice is deep and soft, "I beg you." His hands reach out to grab her waist. "Let me taste you." He rests his forehead softly on her bare stomach. She places her hands on his and slides them down, encouraging him to remove her pants. Astarion is nearly trembling with anticipation as he helps her step out of her garments.

"Hold on," she stops him before he rips off her underwear. The bloodied rag that was freshly changed before he found her, was now soiled again with arousal and blood. "Should we find somewhere more comfortable?" She offers him her hand to help him rise back up.

Astarion feels lightheaded for a moment as he returns to his feet. However, as soon as he regains his balance, he scoops Tav up and carries her with remarkable speed to a clearing near the stream, where the ground is more sand than rocks. He lays Tav down on her back. He crawls towards her slowly, until his thigh is pressed firmly against her sex. As he lowers himself to kiss her once more, he gently hooks his other leg under hers and slides it up slowly, allowing her legs to part for him.

"Astarion?" She whispers to him when their kiss breaks, "You can feed on me tonight if you like."

He doesn’t even recognize the deep, feral growl that escapes his throat in response. "I was so hoping you would say that darling."

Astarion kisses his way down Tav’s stomach. She squirms at the feeling of his fangs brushing lightly on her ribs. He catches the waistband of her undergarments between his teeth and slides them down her legs to remove them.

He stops to hover over Tav for a moment now that she’s fully undressed. He savors the look she’s giving him through hooded eyes. Pausing, he appreciates the beauty of her bare skin splayed before him, relishing her scent before he consumes her.

"You’re too good to me, my pretty thing. I don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve you." Astarion remarks before his head dips between her legs.

Astarion flattens his tongue and licks her once slowly, bottom to top. Tav tastes unbelievable. It still tastes like her blood, metallic and rich, but it’s enhanced with the flavor of her slick arousal, the must of her sweat, the flesh of her womb. If the blood in her veins is his water, his life source, the blood between her legs is like the finest of wines.

The hums and moans that leave Astarion's throat as he devours her are so animalistic, he can hardly hear Tav’s whines. He licks up every drop until she is clean then sticks his tongue deep inside her searching for more. His nose rubs in a side-to-side motion, pressed firmly against her apex, as his tongue explores.

"Oh gods, Astarion!" Tav gasps. He feels a slight sting on his scalp as she grabs a fistful of his silver curls while rocking her hips to match the speed of his tongue.

"I need more," Astarion rasps. His lips close around her bud He slides two slender fingers inside of her and starts pumping them in and out, coaxing out more blood. Her moans fill his ears like a siren’s song, adding to his pleasure. He can feel her insides tightening around his digits.

"Astarion. I…" Tav’s sentence is cut off by a wail of pleasure. He can smell the ecstasy flooding her blood, hear her heart pounding in her chest, and feel her body spasm and quake where he touches her. He doesn’t change the pace of his tongue or hand, dragging out her orgasm until she is panting and spent. He removes his fingers from her to lick them clean like a cat and notices a small trickle of blood leaking out of her.

"You may have just finished, darling, but I am not done yet. Nothing compares to the sound of my name cried from your lips, and I intend to hear it again." Astarion’s face dips back down to clean her folds. The amount of blood he can get from her body is not nearly enough to fill him. He needs to feed soon, a real meal, a pint of blood or more, not just a taste. But it can wait; the taste is too divine to stop.

Astarion hooks his arms under her thighs and flips onto his back, pulling her with him in one smooth motion. He grabs her hips as he forces her to a sitting position on his face, drinking her in. She shrieks and tries to pull away.

"Astarion, I need a minute. It’s too much." He releases his hands and stares up at her face with mid concern while she hovers over him. He tries to imagine how he looks to her right now.

"Can I ask you to be my mirror again, love?" He recalls the evening Tav found him looking at his empty reflection.

She studies him. "Your pretty face is absolutely covered with blood," she states. "Your lips are puffy and swollen. Your skin is thin and pale, paler than usual. Then there are your eyes…" she pauses, "they’re so red right now that they nearly glow in the light of the stars. There is nothing human, or even elf, left in them. They are the eyes of a monster."

Astarion grins wide, displaying his sharp fangs to her, "I am a monster, dear. Now can you please let me get back to consuming my prey?" His tongue extends from his mouth to lap against her swollen sensitive skin.

Tav tilts her head back and moans, exposing the full length of her gorgeous neck. Her back arches as she lowers herself onto his lips. Astarion grumbles in satisfaction when the taste of her dances on his tongue again. He grabs her thighs, in case she decides to pull away again, but instead she lowers onto him more, smothering him. She rocks against him, rubbing herself against his mouth and nose.

His lungs burn slightly, but he doesn’t need to breathe air to survive; it’s just a matter of an unconscious habit from before he turned into a vampire spawn. He needs air in his lungs to be able to speak, and it’s slightly uncomfortable if his lungs go without air for extended periods of time. He represses the memories of torture he had to endure over the centuries, where Cazador would deprive him of air for days just to watch him struggle. Astarion silently scolds himself for focusing on his lungs when his attention should be on the woman on top of him.

Tav bends her back further and places her hand on his waste to steady herself. Her hand brushes against the swollen bulge in his leather pants. His other primal urge is nothing more than an annoyance compared to his crazed lust to feed. But Astarion doesn’t protest when she starts to pet him through his pants as she continues to use his face like a toy. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Astarion!" His name sounds like a symphony when it exits her body. She collapses forward, cradling his head with her arms. He drinks her in, savoring all his senses. His hands run up and down her bare thighs that seem to burn with heat. She rolls off him and lands in the sandy dirt of the bank, lying flat on her back beside him. They breathe in sync, shallow and hard.

"Tav, I…" Astarion pants, still laying on his back. "I need to feed."

"I know, I told you that you could. It’s not enough, right? Down there I mean. I figured as much. Why didn’t you just go for my neck in the first place? Why starve yourself on tiny mouthfuls when you can just bite me?"

"The taste," he whispers, "It’s addictive. I can’t stop." He swipes a finger between her legs and places the pad of it against his tongue and groans.

"Astarion?" Tav rolls onto her side to gaze into his eyes. She places her hand against the puncture marks on her neck from his fangs. "Bite me."

Astarion rises to his feet. Stars briefly dance across his vision, then fade. He is again reminded of the throbbing of his groin and decides to remove his confining leather pants and exposes himself to her. It seems only fair to be as naked as she is.

Tav’s eyes bulge and her jaw slacks as she stares at him. She props herself up on her elbows and slowly opens her legs to him. The wanting look she gives him is the closest thing he’ll get to a reflection of his own eyes. He waits, tension coiling in his muscles in anticipation as he searches her expression for the words he longs to hear.

"Darling, I am supposed to be the one looking at you like a feast laid before me, but here you are, looking at me like I’m a fresh baked pie. I could practically wipe away your drool." He smirks down at her. His hand lazily strokes his length to tease her.

Tav's lips form the word "Please," her voiceless plea echoing in the quiet night.

"Please what, my pet?" Astarion teases, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as he listens to the rapid rhythm of her heart, quickening like a drumbeat.

"Please. I want you to bite me while you fuck me." Her voice deepens, her eyelids are heavy with lust. Astarion’s stomach flips, and he pounces onto her like a fox catching a mouse.

"Such a filthy little mouth you have." He tuts. While he arranges himself over Tav. It's a familiar position that they have practiced nearly every night since she invited him to feed on her, only this time they are skin to skin. His face lingers over her neck, his breath cools her blazing skin. The tip of his shaft is posed at her entrance. She bucks her hips in response, and he sinks into her partially, then withdrawals.

"You are mine." Astarion whispers into her neck. Pressing his lips to the partially healed wound from his last bite as he enters her again, sinking his entire length into her. Tav cries out in response, but he doesn’t move.

"Astarion, please," She whines. He raises himself onto the palms of his hands to look at her. Her eyes are glossy, tears are forming in the corners.

"Tav, Darling, you look so pretty when you beg." He echoes her earlier words. He wishes he could hold out a little longer to see how far he could tease her until she breaks, but his need to feed is too intense. He starts slowly pumping in and out. Her eyes close and her mouth opens wide in pleasure. She feels amazing, so tight, so soft, so wet with blood and arousal.

Tav places her hands on Astarion’s back and digs her nails in, only to pull away quickly when she feels the bumps of the scars she hasn’t yet seen. She opens her mouth to mention it but he quickly covers it with his blood stained lips. His tongue slips past her lips and moves with the same rhythm of his thrusts. She moans into his mouth as his pace quickens. Then he breaks her kiss to purr into her ear, ‘Do you taste yourself on my lips, beautiful? It’s delicious, isn’t it? You taste divine.’

Tav shivers beneath him and lets out a sob. His lips brush down her neck. Astarion snarls to expose his sharp, elongated canines then grazes them against her throat, ready to strike. His thrusts never stop, slamming into her repeatedly, as he finally sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks her blood.

"Oh fuck, Astarion!" Tav releases a scream and falls apart under him. Shaking and panting while grinding against him. He can taste the electricity of her climax surge through her blood as her heart beats with a steady rhythm, allowing the blood to flow through her veins until it reaches his mouth. Astarion feels a rush stronger than any drug, more enchanting than any spell or potion. Her walls spasm around him, while he slurps against her neck. He sucks her blood with intense force. Pinning her under him. He can’t stop.

After several moments of bliss, he notices she has gone completely still beneath him. It takes all his willpower to unlatch his fangs before he sits up quickly.

"Shit’." A wave of panic washes over Astarion as he inspects Tav. Her skin appears paler, almost gray. Her breaths come slow and shallow, and her heartbeat is faint and stuttering. Without hesitation, he scoops up her limp body and wades into the waist-deep waters of the nearby stream, gently lowering her in. The water feels warm against his skin, though he himself is generally cooler than most creatures. He hopes the temperature doesn’t send her body further into shock.

As he holds her in the water, Astarion's mind races with worst-case scenarios. He imagines having to speak with Withers to revive her, dreading the thought of explaining his actions to the rest of the camp. Tav won’t easily forgive him this time, he fears. He might be cast out or even killed. He curses himself for following her out here in the first place. She was right to avoid him these past few days.

Just as he begins to entertain thoughts of escape, Tav’s soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "Star?"

Relief floods through him. "Oh, thank the gods, Tav. I’m truly sorry. I got a little carried away." He holds her tighter against his chest, feeling her shiver against him.

"Cold," Tav manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Astarion carries her out of the water and gently sets her down in a patch of soft grass. He hurries to gather their scattered clothes, helping her dress into her pants and shirt. He wraps his own rumpled white shirt around her for extra warmth, then puts on his pants before rinsing the remaining blood from his face in the stream.

Returning to her side, Astarion finds her hugging her legs, the color slowly returning to her face. "Let’s get you back to camp near the fire. I’ll wake Shadowheart to see if she can heal you," he suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

Tav turns to him, her voice airy and soft. "No, I think I'll manage until morning." Astarion kisses her forehead as she embraces him, her hands rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Turn around," Tav demands, and he complies, allowing her to view the intricate scars covering his entire back. She traces them with her fingers. "What happened to you?" Her voice carries a tone of pity, and Astarion swallows a lump in his throat.

"It’s a poem," He explains calmly. "Cazador did it to me. He took his time. I don’t know what it says."

"Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry," Tav responds with compassion that almost irritates him.

"You’re sorry?" Astarion snaps, turning to face her. "I nearly killed you tonight, and you’re sorry?" He immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. "No, Tav, I’m sorry." Pulling her into him, he collapses to the ground, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

‘Astarion, I…’ Tav starts to speak.

"Hush," he interrupts, holding a finger to her lips. "Listen." He tunes into the sounds of the environment around them—the rustling of tree branches in the breeze, the chirping of insects in the reeds, the rushing of water in the nearby stream. But the sound he wants her to hear isn’t external; it’s coming from within him. After several seconds, she jerks her head up from his chest to meet his eyes.

"Did… did I just hear your heart?" Her voice is filled with astonishment. "You have a heartbeat?" Her brows furrow in confusion as she searches his face for answers. "Is that another side effect of the tadpole? Like how you can walk in the sun?"

Astarion smiles at her. "Yes, you heard my heart beating. No, it’s not from the worm in my head. It’s from you, darling."

"What? How?" Tav’s confusion deepens.

‘Well, when I feed, especially if it’s a big meal, my body must circulate the fresh blood throughout it somehow. And in case you weren’t aware, I’ll give you a little anatomy lesson. I need blood in a certain area of the body to give you a performance like I did back there."

She stares at him in shock "So your heart will kickstart when you're full, or horny?"

"In simple terms, yes dear, and I do feel both of those right now. However, it only beats a couple times a minute, not like a living creature. Have you noticed the color return to my skin, and that my temperature is at least five degrees warmer than usual?"

Tav smiles softly as she lays her head back on his chest in silence, waiting to hear a soft thump again. "I can make your heartbeat," she whispers.

"Well Tav, it seems my heart belongs to you now," Astarion sighs. "I’ve never felt anything like that before. I’m practically drunk on you right now. When I told you were my first bite, I meant it and now I can’t imagine drinking the blood of anyone else. Not like I have many options anyways, no one else is exactly offering me their neck." She smacks him softly, and he lets out a chuckle before his face softens with worry.

"I don’t think it’s safe to do that again, though," He grumbles. "I nearly lost you." Tav looks up at him with sadness in her eyes. "I mean I would happily bed you again," Astarion continues, "and I still wish to feed on you if you allow it, once you're replenished, but I think we should keep dinner and sex separate from now on."

Tav scoots up to kiss his neck. Then rises to her knees and straddles him. Her hair forms a halo around her face as she looks down at him.

"What is Withers there for if we don’t use him once and a while. Plus, we have at least ten revival scrolls in the chest at the camp."

His heart beats again, slightly harder than the last time. "Are you giving me permission to suck you dry? You filthy little pup." His hands grab her rear, and he squeezes. "How did I get so lucky? Getting abducted by mind flayers seems to have been the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I mean, I've never felt anything like that either. When you were draining me of blood, I let it happen, I didn’t want it to stop. I was in a daze as I slipped away. To be clear, I don’t think the others will approve of paying 200 gold coins to Withers, or wasting revival scrolls that could be used during a fight, every time I come to your bed, but if it happens… I trust you to bring me back. I guess my heart belongs to you now too. Since it pumps the blood through me that keeps you alive and thriving."

Astarion inhales deeply. "Well in that case, darling," his hand reaches up to grab her neck and he pulls her head down so her ear touches his lips "I think you're beating me three-nil in climaxes this evening. And I intend to double your score at the very least, and maybe get a point on the board myself before the sun rises." He glances down and notices a blood stain seeping through her pants onto his. He realizes didn't put her underwear back on nor replace her blood rag when he dressed her earlier. "Also, it looks like you might need a little cleaning up again, my love."

END

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Intoxicating (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Breeding Kink, Feral!Miguel O'Hara, Pheromones, Use of Petnames, Rough Sex, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie, Mating Press, Baby Talk, SPOILER FOR ATSV Word Count: 1.5k+

A/N: Based on a prompt by @imslightlycreative. Literally cannot get enough of this man, istg. 😩🥴 I apologize, my Spanish is pretty rough. If I got anything wrong feel free to correct me. Translations are at the end of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

Original Prompt: "Reader is ovulating. Miguel finds out that his heightened senses can also pick up on pheromones".

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Miguel crept through the bedroom door. His hard heart softened when he saw you tucked beneath the comforter. You sighed and shifted slightly, your breathing steady as you slept soundly. He hovered next to you, his hand brushing some messy hair out of your face. Just as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, a bolt shot down his spine. His nostrils flared as he picked up on a scent: it was potent and sweet like rose water, yet intoxicating like wine. His talons suddenly drew out on their own as his pupils began to dilate.

"¿Qué carajo?" he muttered as his skin crawled, heat stirring inside his chest. The hair on his arms stood on end as he suddenly released a quiet grunt. Your eyes fluttered open as he clamped his hands over his mouth.

“¿Miguel?,” you blinked. Miguel’s hands shook as his carnal desires began to devour every inch of his body. He parted his lips as he felt a familiar throb in between his legs.

“Sí, bebé. I’m home,” he murmured, his voice husky and low. He swallowed thickly as you shifted yourself up, revealing your naked breasts from beneath the covers. His head spun as you slid your hand into his, your touch sending ripples down his spine and straight to his cock.

“Are you feeling okay, hermoso? You’re breathing pretty heavily,” you frowned as you stretched your arms out to cup his face. Miguel released a shaky sigh as you laid a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up,” you said. Miguel nodded and licked his dry lips, his words swirling around in his clouded mind like a torrent.

“J-Just some leftover adrenaline from the the mission,” he explained shakily, his eyes raking down your luscious body. You tilted your head.

“Are you-” You gasped when Miguel’s large shadow suddenly cast over yours. He caged you in between his muscular thighs as he bared his teeth over your pulse. A deep hunger rose from the pit of his belly and spilled into every corner of his mind. His nostrils flared as he battled with the part of him that desperately wanted to rut into you.

“M-Miguel,” you sighed as you swallowed. Your mouth opened as he stuck his nose where your shoulder and neck met, inhaling your scent.

“What perfume are you wearing, cariño?” he purred. You whined as he scraped his teeth over your soft flesh. You arched your back and gasped when his hips bucked forward into your bare pussy.

“I-I’m not wearing perfume,” you said with a shaky breath. Miguel’s eyes snapped open as his lips danced over your collar bone.

You weren’t wearing perfume? Then, that scent…

Miguel’s gaze went back to your breasts. Curiously, he cupped them in his palms before giving them a light squeeze. You moaned, your mouth falling open into a wide “O”.

“Ah-Mig,” you cried out. Miguel's lips fell into a straight line. Your whole face turned a deep shade of crimson as his lips trailed down your torso. The smell became stronger as he came closer to your dripping cunt. Miguel’s chest heaved as his hands slid down from your tender breasts and spread your thighs apart.

His hot breath fanned over your pussy before he gently lashed his tongue across your folds. His body felt like it was on fire as he lapped your sweet arousal into his mouth. The last shred of his willpower snapped with the taste of you on his tongue. Miguel released an animalistic snarl as he lunged forward and completely pinned you to the bed. Your eyes widened with shock as he grinded his hips against yours, his cock rock-hard and ready to burst.

"Cariño, te necesito," he practically whined as he drove his clothed cock against your naked pussy. You keened as wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Arruíname,” you keened with drunk, half-lidded eyes. His crimson eyes rolled into the back of his head as he cut a slit in his pants with his talons. His dick sprang out and bounced on your stomach. Your eyes glistened at the sight of his swollen, flushed cock leaking with precum.

“Mi hermosa,” Miguel snarled. He brought his hands beneath your thighs before sheathing his cock inside your wet heat in one eager thrust. He couldn’t get enough of the small moans and cries that tumbled from your lips as he eagerly pounded into you. Your tight cunt greedily sucked him in as his dick slid along your plush walls. “Tan apretada,” Miguel gasped as your pussy fluttered around him. The room was filled with the lewd sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping against skin. He bared his fangs as his heavy balls smacked against your puffy, wet folds.

“M-Miguel,” you drooled when the tip of his cock reached into your cervix. It felt softer and more open as he relentlessly stroked against it. "Feel so good, Papi-please go faster!" you begged. You released a silent scream as Miguel pressed your legs up to your shoulders. Your slick splashed against him each time he buried himself to the hilt inside you. He leaned down to your ear.

“¿Quieres a mi bebe?” he rasped. You mewled at his words, your hands scraping down his taut forearms.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you whined. The creases of your knees were held in his palms as his cock somehow struck even deeper within you. His lips crashed into yours as he nearly folded you in half, your slick dribbling down across the bulge that poked out of your lower stomach.

“Want me to put a baby in you, hm? Want me to fill you up again and again until you can’t walk?” he husked. You released a moan loud enough to shake the bedroom walls.

“Yes-yes I want your baby! Please fill up my pussy, Papi!” you begged. Miguel smirked as he slid his tongue along your jawline and pistoned into you at a brutal pace.

“Buena chica,” he purred. His balls began to feel tight as your walls restricted around his boiling shaft. Miguel had to admit that he loved seeing you like this: folded and ready to take his seed. “Vamos, puedes hacerlo,” the man groaned as he saw your eyes squeeze shut and brows pinch together. Your breasts rose and fell as your breathing became ragged.

“MIG!” you screamed as your hands raked down his back. He grunted as your cunt clamped down and spasmed around his thick cock.

“Tan buena, tan buena para mi,” Miguel strained as he tried to push through the way your pussy squeezed his cock. The way your face twisted in ecstasy brought him closer to the edge. The back of your thighs jiggled against the front of his thighs. His thrusts became sloppy as you whined below him.

“Fill me, fill me,” you begged incessantly, your lips parted as drool slid down your face. Miguel could feel the red-hot eruption boiling in his cock as he heard your pussy squelch around his length.

“Mierda,” he grunted. You gazed into his darkened eyes, hot tears rolling down your glowing cheeks.

“Papi,” you cooed. The simple word finally pushed Miguel over the edge. He yelled and slammed his hips down. His mind was drowning in waves of pleasure as his body stiffened. Miguel’s cock throbbed as he squirted rope after rope of his thick cum into your stretched hole.

He panted as he felt the tension in his body begin to unravel-feeling at how his cum bubbled and spilled out where your sexes were joined. His dick twitched as it released the last stream of his spend, stuffing you completely full of his seed. Miguel’s eyelids drooped as he caught his breath. You gazed up at him, tear stains still trailing down your face.

He cooed as he leaned down, hushing you with a gentle kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he lay on top of you, his cock still plugged in your weeping cunt. He felt your hot breath fan over his shoulder as you played with his raven hair.

“Did you know I was ovulating?” you asked. His eyes snapped open.

“It was just a hunch,” he mumbled, his mind still somewhat drunk from your cunt squeezing him so tightly. You giggled and kissed his temple. His body began to relax as he listened to your heartbeat steady.

“So, how many are we going to have?” you whispered. Miguel’s throat tightened as he looked at you with a soft gaze.

“You mean-you really want to have…” his voice trailed off as images of his variant daughter flashed through his mind. You beamed and cupped his cheek, kissing the tip of his nose while nodding. Joy spread from the cracks in his heart all the way to the tips of his fingers. A wide smile stretched across his face as he kissed you over and over again, his hand trailing down your side.

“Gracias, mi vida,” he whispered, his eyes misty as he swallowed a lump in his throat. You sighed, then gasped when he rolled both of you over.

“Miggy!” you giggled as he nipped at your ear. You mewled as he pressed his chest against your back and shallowly pumped his cock into you. His cum sloshed around inside you as he whispered into your ear.

“We might as well get a head start, since my cock is already stuffed inside your tight cunt”.

___

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Translations:

¿Qué carajo? - What the fuck?

Papi - Daddy

Sí, bebé - Yes, baby

Hermoso/Hermosa - Handsome/Gorgeous

Te necesito, cariño - I need you, honey

Arruíname- Ruin me

Tan apretada - So tight

¿Quieres a mi bebe? - Do you want my baby?

Buena chica - Good girl

Vamos, puedes hacerlo - Come on, you can do it

Tan buena, tan buena para mi - So good, so good for me

Mierda - Shit

Gracias, mi vida - Thank you, my life

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #spider man 2099 x you #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 x y/n #spider man smut #marvel smut #fem reader #female reader

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murdrdocs · 1 month

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being fucked w a racket (m receiving) (past); childhood friends; bickering; p n v; no spoilers; 1.1k+ words MDNI 18+ w/ PATRICK ZWEIG

he still kisses the same.

demanding, with the same amount of confidence that he carries around in public. the same obscure, borderline inappropriate behavior, that you see in his serve. the newly added beard rubs uncomfortably against your jaw as you let him devour you with his lips. but you don't mind it. in fact, you welcome the burn with just as much acceptance as you do with the sloppy way his tongue meets yours. just like before, the muscle misses your mouth once or twice, leaving a trail along the sides of your lips.

as he throws your top over your head and unbuttons your shorts, you can't help but wonder what else is the same.

patrick has his lips on your neck now, freeing your mouth which lets it roam free.

"you ... you haven't changed, have you?" your breathlessness makes it a little harder for you to speak. you don't even bother attempting to form words whenever he has his mouth wrapped around your nipples. you only speak in the form of praises whenever one of his hands are holding your legs open and the other is between your thighs.

"neither have you," comes his accusation. you make a noise akin to a condescending laugh at first, but then patrick nudges the two fingers he has inside of you to one side just a bit and his fingertips press into a spot that only he knows, and any rebuttal you dared to attempt to make falls short.

it's patrick who has the upper hand then. he laughs into your chest. his dark curls tickle your skin as he continues to move down, lips sloppily smacking into your skin every couple of seconds. when he gets to your cunt, leaking and sucking his fingers in with preparation to do the same for his cock, you expect him to use his mouth on you. you already have your hips adjusted, your legs opened a little further to accommodate his broad shoulders. but he only sits there. he breathes open-mouthed, letting you—making you—feel what you so desperately want. you groan and shift your hips further towards patrick, but he only gives you a peck on your clit and then he's sitting up completely and pulling his fingers out of you.

he has his cock sheathed completely into you whenever you speak again. he's grinding into you, working his cock in ways that only he can, and you feel euphoric. truthfully, this is what you needed. you'd been dreading the possibility of running into him again. you'd been considering canceling your trip back home as soon as you learned he would be here too. but, god, you were glad you got on that plane.

of course, you won't tell him that.

instead, you tell him, "remember that time? with the racket?"

it's phrased like a question, but you know the answer. the same way he knows how good you feel, even if you won't explicitly let him know.

patrick groans in the crook of your neck. he forces his cock up into you with a little more force, either as a warning or as a form of appreciation. you aren't really sure but you like either possibility.

you laugh, throwing your head back which gives patrick just the perfect angle to suck a hickey right in the middle of your neck, with absolutely no regard for how you might feel about the marks.

fucker.

you run your hand through his hair, ignoring the way the front and back are damp with sweat, and tugging through the knots. patrick winces, but he nudges his thighs under yours, lifting you up a bit more. the position allows him to get deeper. you feel like he's in your fucking guts.

patrick is big, you both know it, and he knows what he's doing. he slips a big hand between your bodies, pressing down onto your lower belly.

"you feel that?" his voice is deeper, raspier. he mumbles the question into your jugular, making sure you feel this part of him, too. "you feel me?"

you nod, your voice wobbling more than you would've liked when you respond. "yes, yes, patrick!"

he leans away from you, removing his hand from your stomach to lift your legs by the backs of your knees. he throws your calves over his shoulders and from here, you have the perfect angle of how his abdomen tightens while he fucks you.

he's lost in it, his eyes staring down at the way you take his cock and the way your tits bounce from his thrusts. he lifts a hand, squeezes your nipple, slaps it with his palm, and then delivers that same fate onto your cunt.

you mewl, the crown of your hair rubbing against the mattress as you throw your head back once more.

he has distracted you for just a moment, but you remember.

"you didn't answer my question, patrick."

when he rolls his eyes at you, you can feel your cunt squeezing around him.

"do you," you take your time formulating the question this time. "remember the time," you take his hand from where it rests sprawled over your mound and interlace your fingers. "i fucked you," patrick places his free hand over your ankle, holding your leg still against his shoulder. "with a racket?"

it takes him a second, but he nods. his mouth hangs open, his eyes are lidded in the way that they get when he's tired from a match, his hair sticks to his forehead. he looks so pretty when he's out of it, staring straight at you but not at you. you know he's thinking about it.

when you were both young, patrick was a few years into touring and you were freshly out of college. he had come to visit you, to congratulate you. and congratulations brought drinks, which brought elation, which brought you onto patrick's lap and eventually patrick laid in your bed where he sat next to the racket he gifted you.

we can be like old times, is what he told you then, referring to when you were both teenagers in braces who played against each other to expel the something stirring in your systems. but it wasn't like old times. that was something different.

he looked so pretty that night, just like he does now. his thighs were spread for you, his eyes staring at the ceiling before you asked him to look at you. he had gotten past the initial discomfort so quickly and when he came, in your mouth since you were feeling generous that night, he came hard.

you grin in the here and now when you say, "want me to do it again?"

#patricksworld!#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #celeste writes challengers

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lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

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The Woman He Didn't Choose part 2🥀

AU Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem contestant Reader

Synopsis: the aftermath of the show as you and Miguel move on(sort of). The first part is mostly from his POV then transitions into your experience on the spinoff show- Singles in Paradise where you have a second shot at finding love. Word count: 6k

A/N: Sorry to any Xina fans, I made her OOC and quite mean in this one. I haven't read the comics but from what I've heard of her and seen so far she's one of the canon love interests I like the most. (Even tho I shamelessly self ship with Miguel lolol bc as far as I know ATSV Miguel is separate from comic Miguel Soo until we hear otherwise I'm gonna be delulu.)

Also, I am sorry if any of the couple pairings in this part bother you, it's purely for the purpose of the plot since we're supposed to be on another dating show and I am too lazy to create a bunch of OCs. If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, RACIAL MICROAGGRESSIONS ABOUT ESL AND FAMILY STRUCTURE(IF THAT'S SENSITIVE FOR YOU PLEASE SKIP ❤️) EMOTIONAL ABUSE, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, ALCOHOL ,DOWNPLAYING MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLES, LITTLE BIT OF EMOTIONAL CHEATING ON MIGUEL'S PART, STRUGGLES WITH RELIGION AND FAITH, MENTION BULLYING AND FAMILY STRUGGLES, BREAK-UP, FANTASIZING, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CLASSISM, MODERATE SMUT(P IN V BUT IT'S ONLY MENTIONED NOT FULLY DETAILED, THESE ONES ARE DETAILED: DRY HUMPING, HEAVY MAKING OUT, AND FINGERING. ALSO, VOYEURISM-ISH)

(couple pairings are Ben Reilly and Felicia Hardy, Jessica Drew and Noir, George Stacey and MJ, Xina Kwan and Miguel O'Hara, not saying anything else bc spoilers)

Part 1 , Part 3

@miguelhugger2099, @kodo1221,@mimiemie, @laysmt, @cheerrioeoz , @spicydonut25 , @thisistotesnotspam-heart , @thekidscallmebosss , @librababe99 , @ce3stvu @irishbl0ss0mz @nommingonfood , @mauvecherie-writes , @royale-skeleton-key , @famouscattale

I'm so sorry if I forgot you in the tags , just lmk

------

"Miguel!"

Miguel looks up abruptly from a spot on the floor he was zoning out on to look at Xina's slightly annoyed expression. "Hydrangeas or peonies for the guest tables, babe?" she repeats, standing next to the sample table where the wedding planner and florist awaited with anxious eyes.

Miguel blinks rapidly. "It doesn't matter to me, baby...um...." he points to the peony arrangement. "That one."

Xina huffs and turns to look at the planner and florist. "We'll do the hydrangeas."

Miguel smirks and puts his hands in his pockets. "Now, why would you ask me my opinion if you're going to just pick the one you wanted?"

Xina's annoyed look softens subtly but she shakes her head. "It's mostly the bride's day, you know. You're just supposed to show up."

Miguel smiles. "Well, I guess you don't need me to come to the wedding planning dinner tonight? Since you seem to have it all handled?"

Xina groans. "Miguel! You said you'd be there! Have you even read through Exodus like I asked you to?"

Miguel feels his cheeks burn. "Shit...um, no..."

Xina shoots a glare at the wedding planner and the florist and makes a shooing motion with her hand. They both put their heads down and quickly leave the room, giving them privacy. Miguel adjusts his tie, a little bit thrown off by her dismissive actions towards the staff.

Xina sits down at the table and pours herself a glass of ice water. She takes a long sip and sighs, looking at Miguel. "Babe...," she says in a low voice. "You know that getting married in the church is a top priority for me. You know what it means to me..."

Miguel's eyebrows knit together with worry. "I know it is..." he rapidly crosses the room to join her and kneels in front of her, hands on her thighs. She squirms away from him a little and purses her lips, looking down.

"Promise me you'll catch up on your Bible reading by next week and set up an appointment with the missionaries?"

Miguel hesitates for just a fraction of a second in his mind but he answers her, almost a little too quickly, "Of course I will."

Xina manages to give him a little smile, fiddling with the top button on his shirt. "Love you..."

"Love you too."

---

Later that evening, Xina and Miguel are sitting next to each other at a large, circular, oak table across from her parents, eating dinner in their mansion of a home.

Xina's mother makes a face when she takes a bite of the salmon.

"Something wrong with it, hun?" Xina's father asks, dishing himself some potatoes.

Xina's mother spits the bite into a napkin. "Rex!" She barks. An older, balding man with a kind face and chef's uniform enters the dining room. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Salmon's not up to par, I'm afraid." She pushes the dish towards the puzzled chef.

"M' sorry ma'am. Can I make you anything else you'd like instea-"

She cuts him off. "No, my appetite's ruined. That's all, Rex."

The chef looks down in shame at the dish he worked hard on, picking it up with shaky hands and shuffling quickly out of the dining room.

Miguel tightens his grip on his fork and shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He had not seen this side of Xina's parents. But, it was only their third time meeting, so he did his best to concentrate on who he was really there for, Xina. He took another bite of his roast beef.

Once the old man was out of earshot, Xina's mother tuts her teeth. "Sorry, he's insufferable... I don't know what we'll do with him.... is your roast beef even edible, dear?" She asks Miguel.

Miguel inhales slowly, trying to stifle his outrage on the chef's behalf but Xina's father cuts in.

"So, Miguel," Xina's father says, breaking the silence. "Your folks are planning on driving down on the... 25th, right? For the rehearsal dinner?"

Miguel nods, blotting his lips with a cloth napkin. "Yes, sir."

"Remind me who's coming?" He asks, pouring a generous helping of gravy on his potatoes.

Miguel clears his throat. "My younger brother, Gabe, and my mother-"

"Right, your father's not in your life." Xina's father says, waving his fork.

Miguel's lips fall open and he blinks in disbelief at the abruptness of his statement. I mean, he wasn't lying, per se. Miguel took a sip of his wine, trying to chalk it up to just him not choosing his words carefully, that's all.

"Right, he's not..." Miguel says, straightening in his chair.

Xina's mother pipes up, "You know, that's really such an inspiration on your part. Most people like you with your background end up on the streets, or worse."

Miguel abruptly stops cutting his meat, first looking at Xina's mother, who sat with a smile on her face looking at him, to her husband, who was too occupied with his potatoes to even care, to Xina who was just looking at her lap, clearly a little embarrassed at her comment, but stayed silent.

It got worse. She continues, "... wouldn't even guess that English isn't your first language. You're so well spoken for someone like you."

At that point, Miguel is so uncomfortable that he stands up abruptly, removing his napkin from his lap and setting it next to his wine glass.

"...if you'll excuse me..." he briskly walks out, making sure to close the front door a little extra loudly than he normally would.

Miguel paces in the driveway, taking deep breaths. He exhales a little bit when he sees Xina, but he's met with a different reaction than he was expecting.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her stomach.

Miguel's face contorts in confusion, "Babe..that comment your mom made-"

"It's just how she is, Miguel!" Xina says, her annoyance starting to make itself apparent as her face comes into view.

Miguel is now even more confused.

"Just come back inside, please?" Xina looks around, hoping none of the neighbors were witnessing their spat.

Miguel takes a step back, his face hurt. "Xi...what's got into you...?"

"Look, I'm sorry that she said it, okay? But that's just how she is. She doesn't have a filter. Old people are just like that. Now she's upset because you stormed out."

Miguel becomes angry now. "Babe. I understand your parents are from a different generation and your mom has a certain way of... communicating." He sighs. "But what she said was kind of racist. I felt extremely uncomfortable."

Xina looks up at the sky in utter aggravation, "Okay! Fine! You're right! It was totally racist, okay? Happy? I'll talk to her about it later, but I really don't wanna fight anymore about this. We're supposed to walk down the aisle in three and a half weeks. They're just stressed because they're not only hosting my family, they're hosting yours too. I'm stressed, you're stressed. We all are..."

Miguel takes a deep breath. Now he's second guessing himself and his feelings. Did he overreact? The last thing he wanted was for them to dislike him. They were his future in-laws after all. Even though Miguel is hurt she won't defend him and is downplaying his feelings, he decides to shove them aside for her sake. Miguel looks down at her, taking her waist in his hands. She flinches a little and tries to pull back at first, but remains where she's standing when he holds her a little tighter.

"I'm sorry...okay? I'm sorry for being an ass..." Miguel can't help but feel a little odd that he's the one apologizing, but he continues. "Let's go back inside, yeah? Maybe we can go on a date this Friday, just to get away from all this wedding planning stuff."

Xina gives him a half smile and takes his hand in hers. "Deal..."

----

Later that night as Miguel showered in his shared apartment with Xina, he kept replaying their fight over and over again. He didn't know what it was, but lately, Xina was showing a very different side of herself. One that was completely the opposite of the soft spoken sweetheart he fell in love with when the cameras were rolling

He knew that she was religious when he proposed, but had the impression she was more of an Easter and Christmas-only attendee. Her devoutness amped up shortly after their engagement. Her pressure for him accept Jesus and get baptized so they could be married in her church started making him realize he bit off a little more than he could chew.

He felt a phony when she'd ask him to pray over meals and when he'd be called on to read a passage in Sunday School, like he wasn't supposed to be there. His scientific-inclined brain clashed with the idea of a magical being in the sky who would send him to Hell if he touched himself.

Furthermore, Xina demonstrated that she could be quite insensitive to his feelings, and he couldn't unsee the way his future in-laws poorly treated their chef in front of him, and the casual microaggressions they were throwing out about him and his family.

His whole childhood, he was bullied for his accent and for being one of the kids who would get pulled out of class for extra tutoring because he was so far behind everyone else. He was used to being doubted and constantly faced taunts from his classmates and teachers. Conchata was generally the better parent compared to George, but unfortunately that wasn't saying much.

She put immense pressure on Miguel to do well and excel in everything, constantly shifting the goalposts for the near impossible standards she expected him to reach.

But, he worked his ass off and eventually started reading two grade levels above his current grade and took home placing trophies in Math and Science olympiads. It wasn't long before Ivy League schools set their sights on him, and he went on to be the successful geneticist he was today, even buying Conchata a new house despite their volatile relationship.

Throughout it all, he never felt ashamed of where he came from, or his heritage. Nevertheless, it was something he was still was VERY sensitive about and he told Xina about it many times which is why it stung when she couldn't defend him. He even told you about it.

Oh God....you. This was the first time in a while that he finally allowed his mind to dwell on you for longer than a minute. He remembered how receptive you were when he told you. For once, he didn't hear a, "well at least you have it better than most", or a "cheer up, it's not so bad," when he explained his life story. Instead, you listened carefully with a soft look in your eyes and one of your hands resting on top of his, letting him know that the way he felt was completely valid. Something he didn't realize could be so healing when he heard you say that in that moment.

On top of that, your family was so...kind. Your mom even went out of her way to whip up an extra loaf of banana bread just for him when she caught wind that it was his favorite. Your siblings treated him like he was just another member of the family and it was a little unreal how seamlessly he got along with all of them. And, he distinctly remembered how gracious every single one of them were to the restaurant staff when you all went to lunch, with no awkward, demeaning energy like Xina's parents unfortunately demonstrated at dinner tonight. The cameras must have kept them on their best behavior until their true selves could come out once they turned off.

He's about to do something he knows he shouldn't, but he can't resist. He unblocks you on Instagram. (He has only one post on his own account and it's from when he was announced as The Eligible Suitor, the show forced him to create one for publicity's sake, he actually loathes social media in all forms).

And there you were, smiling with your friends at brunch. Another one of you showing off your new dog you rescued from the shelter named Hamilton, and your gorgeous headshot of you in a swimming suit for your debut on Singles in Paradise, where you and other rejected candidates from the show were all going to go at it in a fancy beach resort in Mexico.

Man, you looked good, curves on full display. The smile that he fell in love with was spread across your lovely face. The same one he was responsible for erasing when he broke your heart with less than 10 words on a tranquil beach in Thailand months earlier.

Now, you seemed happier. Trying to carry on with life as though he was never there. Like he didn't haunt your dreams and the sound of his name didn't cause the sting of a thousand burns to scorch through your body. Like you were never the first girl he ever spilled his cum into during that sexy night in the Fairytale Suites, remnants of him imprinted somewhere deep inside you.

Xina climbs into bed next to him and he closes out of Instagram immediately, ashamed that he let his mind wander. Her hand wanders down to his cock and it's not long until he's pounding into her. His mind struggles desperately to fight off the memory of the way your lips parted in ecstasy the whole time she's underneath him.

-----

A few days later

"What the fuck, Miguel?!" Xina screams at him over the phone. Miguel holds the phone away from his ear for a moment, the sound too harsh against his eardrum. She was upset at him this time for his interview on a morning talk show, promoting their upcoming wedding which was supposed to be aired live as the show's long awaited special before Singles in Paradise made its debut.

The host smiled and leaned on her elbow.

"Now, Miguel. Eligible Suitor's number one fan blog is releasing rumors that you only chose Xina because she was the safer option compared to y/n, the season's edgier "bad girl". Is there some truth to that statement, or can you elaborate on that?

Miguel nods slowly, a little bit of panic settling in on the inside, wondering how the hell the fan pages were eerily accurate, despite him not giving away any hints about his internal struggles regarding his engagement to the press that he was aware of.

"Well, as the man chosen to be the Eligible Suitor, there are certain expectations for me and who I ultimately end up with...Xina fit in well with my family. She had all the qualities of the ideal partner. Overall, it just seemed to be a better match..."

"But you're making it sound like if say, y/n for example had all of that, would you have picked her instead?"

Miguel hesitates, turning a little red. He wasn't good at lying. "Well, I mean..."

Awkward silence that lasts a little too long.

He quickly tries to recover but he ends up making it worse, "I mean, what's done is done. There's not really a point in wondering about that, you know....? We-we're very excited for the wedding..."

It wasn't longer than a minute after the show cut to commercial that his phone was ringing off the hook.

"Tell me right now that you love me, and not her, or I swear to God, Miguel I will call off this whole thing!" She says through tears.

Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Now he really felt like a jerk.

"I do love you baby..."

Xina is still distraught and doesn't seem to want to listen. "After everything we've been through. I've supported you. I got along with your mom, I got an apartment with you. I even supported you through all that mental health bullshit of yours and you still can't even defend me on live television and say you love me more than that broke piece of trash!"

Miguel freezes. "Hold on, mental health bullshit....?" Miguel really hopes that he didn't just hear what he thought he heard. He does his best to keep his anger at bay but he can feel it rising anyway. "So, all of the internal struggles I trusted you enough to tell you about....my depression which is something that will ALWAYS be a part of me, Xina...you think it's bullshit?"

Xina sputters, "Miguel, no, I didn't mean it like that. It's just...ugh you are just so hard to deal with sometimes, you know? I totally understand and respect the fact that you're going through a lot right now, but so am I. And I can't sit here and coddle you through everything if you don't get help."

Miguel's world comes shattering down. His worst fear that started to creep into the back of his mind ever since about 2 weeks after he proposed to Xina had just been confirmed to be true: she was not at all the woman he thought she was. It was merely an act for the show, and, with the help of the producers and audience, they pushed him towards her simply because she was the woman they wanted to see him with, when his heart truly lied with you the whole time.

And now, you were on a beach in Mexico probably getting courted by all sorts of men who could give you way more than Miguel ever could, while he was left to contend with a broken heart and a cancelled wedding.

He says in a shaky voice. "I was getting help...I told you I started therapy. I trusted you with THE most sensitive parts of me, Xina. And you threw it in my face. By the way, why do you say y/n is broke trash, as you put it, huh?"

"Miguel, stop putting words in my mouth..."

"Nononono...you LITERALLY said it, Xi. Don't start with your gaslighting bullshit on me!" Miguel is raising his voice now. "You called her broke trash. Let me guess: you shoo away our wedding planners, your parents treat your chef like complete shit. She has less money and prospects than you, therefore she's just trash, right? Well, I came from hardly anything, too. Does that make me trash? Huh?"

There's only silence on the other line, then she says, "Miguel, you're different..."

"No. No, Xina. You're different. You're not who I thought you were, and I think we shouldn't be marrying each other." Hot tears spill down Miguel's face and he hangs up his phone. He presses his back against the wall, sliding down until he hides his face in his hands, sobbing on the floor.

--------

A few weeks later at a beach bungalow resort in Mexico

"Welcome back to another season of: Singles in Paradise, I'm your host, Jason Donner and boy is it good to be back!" Jason beams, flashing his pearly whites at the camera.

You hear your cue and you walk out, clad in a white bikini with a pretty purple coverup wrapped around your midriff with the knot resting on your hip, emphasizing the curve, a certain post-break up glow about you that immediately made you hard to resist, a confident twinkle in your eye. You greet Jason with a hug and he holds your hands in his.

"Great to see you. Feelin' nervous?"

You flash a lovely smile at him, playing it up for the cameras. "Just a little bit. But I'm more so excited than nervous."

Jason's lips curve into a smirk. "Anyone down there on that beach you're hoping to run into?"

Miguel.

No, you hadn't really thought about it. Noir was pretty cute. You throw his name out there. "I hope Noir is down there..."

Jason nods, giving your shoulder a good luck squeeze. "Well, go on down there and see for yourself. Good luck! And welcome to paradise once again."

"Thanks, Jas!" You play it up, giving him a little flirty wink as you walk down the stone path and disappear into some trees, making your way to the beach. Necks turn slowly and you feel your heart pound as several pairs of eyes land on you.

Felicia Hardy is standing at the beach side resort bar waiting on her piña colada with a bad case of RBF. But, her snowy eyes melt into an enthusiastic expression when she sees you.

"Noooo way!!! Oh my GOD, you're even hotter in person! Girl! What!!"

You beam, flattered as she pulls you into a hug. Her long, platinum blonde hair hangs loose from a claw clip with the ponytail flowing in waves that brush against her back, a few stray wisps framing her face. She's wearing a dark blue tube top dress which is doing her figure all types of favors, accentuating her goddess-like pear shape. And, she smells totally divine of coconut body spray, evidence of sunbathing apparent in her sunkissed cheeks and tan lines.

"Holy shit, where'd you get your outfit?" She asks, giving her piña colada a sip, shamelessly eyeing you up from head to toe.

You smile, giving her a little twirl. "Girl, $20 at Marshall's for the whole thing. I swear to God."

"No way! Oh my God, I love that place!" Felicia smiles. "I gotta say I'm a huge fan of you. Dude, that pissed me off so fucking bad when Miguel fucked you over like that."

You smile back at her, flattered. You can tell that you definitely want to have Felicia be your beach bestie throughout this whole process. She had been the Eligible Suitorette about 2 seasons ago. Her tenure was one that went down in the show's history, the way she didn't take any shit, and had so many guys falling all over her. But, unfortunately her engagement to Flash Thompson went down in flames when his dumb ass eventually got caught cheating, making fans of the show rally around her even more.

"So, I guess I should give you the low down on who's coupled up with who so far?" She asks.

You nod, familiar with this part of the game. "Yes, please. Oh my God, tell me everything."

You two go sit down on a pair of beach chairs, turning them so your knees are touching each other, leaning in close together for your woman to woman huddle, the cameras zooming in on you both.

"Okay, so first of all, I'm with Ben." She gleams, biting her lip. You follow her gaze and see Ben shirtless, playing volleyball with some of the other men, his baby blues are locked right back on Felicia with his angelic, pretty boy face. He nods and gives you a polite wave hello.

"Girrrrrrllllll...." You smile, turning back to her. "Good for you, honestly, he is SO damn fine, respectfully of course."

Felicia throws her head back and waves you off with a laugh. "Girl, thank you. No worries at all. Yeah, he's uh, he's something else alright." She bites her lip again and looks down. "He treats me so good. It's going really well..."

You give her a warm look, the unmistakable signs of falling head over heels quite recognizable all over her demeanor and the way she's talking about him.

Felicia resumes her report. "Noir is here, but he's got a thing for Jess."

You feel slightly disappointed to hear that but nod, encouraging her to continue.

"Peter B. is here, but it's been kinda awkward. MJ is here too."

"No fucking way?" You sit up, interested. "They really invited both of them here?"

Peter B. and MJ were considered royalty as far as the show goes, with Peter being one of the most beloved suitors of the show's history. However, that quickly became tainted with scandal with the volatile on-and-off nature of his and MJ's relationship. They got engaged at the end of his season, then they were "taking some time apart", then they reunited, but he was seen in the Barbados with some mysterious brunette, but she was also out and about with no engagement ring. BUT, they were spotted in Chicago holding hands and all over each other in a night club just a month ago

"Yeah girl, I have no fucking clue. They're clearly off at the moment , but you can totally tell it's bugging Peter. She's all over George right now."

"Girl noooo. George Stacy?!"

"George, fucking-Stacy, girlll."

George had troubling political opinions and was known for being quite a douche. BUT he was also well over 6 feet tall with ocean eyes, big arms, and money. Well, for you, personally, no way in hell you'd tolerate that.

"MJ hates me though." Felicia warns.

"Wait, why??"

"She thinks I "stole her man" even though Peter was literally throwing himself at me when they were on break number 394 or some shit." Felicia chuckles, shaking her head, stirring her piña colada which is now becoming a watery slush. She pauses for a moment then looks at you. "So, girl, tell me, who did you have your eyes on coming here?"

"Well..." You sigh, the options so far were not promising. "I did think Noir was cute, but he's already with Jess."

"You could still invite him on a date, technically." Felicia points out. "But, I understand. He does reallyyy seem to be into her right now. It would be hard to try and pull him at this point." She drums her fingers. "Girl! Go for Peter. Oh my God you guys would be so cute!"

You blush internally. Peter? You hadn't given him much thought. You turn around, searching for him. He's standing in the ocean a few feet away up to his ankles. He turns to the side a little, and the wind blows open his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt as he leans down to examine one of the seashells under his feet.

Oh God, he was handsome. 6'2, lean muscles peppered with dark hair that ran across his chest and belly button, and a shadow of stubble on his face gave him a rugged feel, but those chocolate puppy brown eyes made him look so innocent. One of his cheeks had a little dimple that would pop out when he made that signature little smirk of his.

"Fffuck...really, girl?" You murmur, your jaw practically still hanging open at the sight of him. "But I thought you two were a thing?"

Felicia smirks. "Hell no! I rejected him forever ago. You sooo like him! I can tell. Just do it!"

You take a shaky breath. "God...okay, fuck it. I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Good luck!" Felicia calls after you. "Come find me afterwards and tell me everything!!"

You nod and shoot her a smile as you walk away. You bite your lip, your stomach doing all sorts of flips and tricks as you approach Peter. He has sort of a hopeless look on his face as he watches George and MJ from afar cuddled up on their beach towels, George's rough hands rubbing sunscreen into her shoulders as he was practically eye-fucking her.

"Peter!" You call for him. Peter turns, confused at the sound of a woman's voice calling for him, but his pupils go wide when he locks eyes with you for the first time.

"H-Hey!" His lips part a little bit at the sight of your gorgeous hair and friendly smile. His eyes start to land on your figure but he quickly flicks them back upwards to look into yours, not wanting to look like a perv. God, he was so cute. He offers you one of his hands, his voice gentle. "I'm Peter B."

You introduce yourself and he repeats your name back to you. The way he says it is making you scream a little on the inside, his voice is soothing and low. And suddenly you want to know more, so much more about him. And with the way he's gazing down at you, he does too.

You two just stand there in the ocean, chatting as the wind rustles against you both. Soon, the sun is starting to dip further down in the sky and you feel a chill coming on. Peter notices the goosebumps on your arms and wraps his shirt around you, holding you under his arm as you both meander back to the beach.

You squeal when he swoops you into a bridal style carry, butterflies appear in his stomach when he feels your hair brush under his chin, and he's almost tempted to pull you in closer. No, he decides there's plenty of time for that later, if all of this continues to go as flawlessly as it is already. He sets you down on one of the poolside cabanas, spreading a blanket over your legs. You curl up under it, shooting him a smile of appreciation. He looks at you with adoring eyes at how cute you look curled up like that.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He asks gently, the tips of his fingers brushing against your thigh, sending a chill down your spine.

"Um, vodka cranberry, please." You say sweetly. Peter gives you his signature smirk, the little dimple in his cheek driving you wild. His fingers make full contact with your thigh this time, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"Coming right up..." he's off to get you your drink, leaving you internally screaming by the pool.

---

Jason is leaning against a palm tree, silently monitoring the scene of flirtatious couples below when a tall dark figure approaches him. The camera stays on Jason and captures the look of shock across his face.

"Well, well, WELL! Look who it is, great to see you man!"

The man's face isn't shown, and it appears his response is being muted off mic, Jason's voice is the only audible one, the camera focusing on his reactions with the mystery guest,

"Wow...I'm so sorry to hear that man...yeah, yeah she's here. And you're sure about this.....? Alright, well here's your date card, feel free to use it whenever you wish. Good luck down there man."

------

You and Peter are laughing together by the pool, the alcohol slowly starting to weave its way into your banter. The daybed you're sharing is just a smidge too small, forcing your thigh to touch his as you squish on it together, bodies laying side by side. When you ask him a question, you subtly push yours a little closer into his. Peter seems to notice your increasing touch, his train of thought stalling for just one minute, before he turns pink and apologizes. "Sorry, must be the alcohol," he mumbles cutely, looking sheepishly at you.

"Yeah, the alcohol..." you tease, your pointer finger traces his sternum. His breath hitches and he's looking at you with wet lips, his eyes come to rest on your breasts that are squished so deliciously together.

You're looking back at him too, letting your eyes rake over his body up and down, admiring how good he looks and how the faded blue lights from the pool are casting a sensual shadow over his form, wondering how it would look if it were in the darkness of your bedroom instead.

Peter clears his throat. The nervousness catching up to him, and he turns his head, gazing at the shimmering water. "Sorry..." he lets out a breathy chuckle, then turns back to you. "I haven't connected this quickly with someone ever since...well I mean, since my last relationship which ended badly..... As I'm sure you're well aware of thanks to the press."

You hum, your finger now tracing little circles on his shoulder, making him tremble slightly. "Yeah....I heard. I'm kind of in the same boat."

You take a deep sigh. God, just when you thought you were getting over him, Miguel pulls you right back in. Being with Peter right now feels foreign, strange. You can't put a finger on it. You notice that those decadent brown eyes are already fixed on you, and you stare back, your voice oozing a hint of desire as you softly tell him,

"But, I wouldn't mind if I...spent some more time getting to know you."

Peter exhales softly, you detect the sweetness of the liquor on his breath, the wetness that the rim of his glass left behind is shiny on his bottom lip, and all you want to do is taste.

Peter slowly smirks back, his fingers coming to pull under your chin, bringing your face closer to his.

"I wouldn't mind either..." lust codes his voice now. But, before he goes in to kiss you, his eyes soften a little bit as he drinks in your features. "You're very beautiful..."

You feel the heat rising in your body, you drape one of your legs around him, resting your knee on his hip. "Thank you..."

Peter lets out a soft groan, his hand immediately comes to grip your thigh, encouraging you to press your body against his, and he traps your lips in his with a fiery kiss.

The stubble from his face is a little scratchy, but you don't mind. His tongue is sweet from the wine he was drinking, and you can't get enough. His hands travel a little higher on your thighs and you gasp into his mouth as he pulls you on top of him so you're straddling him with one knee on either side of his waist.

"C'mere..." he purrs.

You lean in closer to him, pressing your forehead against his to try and make your moans more quiet as he grinds your pussy against the bulge in his swim trunks, the soft fabric of your bikini bottoms separating you. The friction is delicious and you reward him with a neverending chorus of his name.

"Peter...."

Peter gives a loud groan, his grip on your hips tightens, this time bucking his hips under your spread pussy, letting you ride the outline of his cock.

"Ffuck....Peter, baby...." you whine.

"Mmm yeah, baby?" Peter lands a sharp spank on your ass in response, making you curse under your breath again. "You like what I'm doing to you?"

"Yes baby, I love it." You bite your lip, closing your eyes. "What if someone sees us, baby?"

"Let em watch.." Peter moans.

"Oh God...don't stop, please." Your moans rise in pitch.

"Fffuck....." Peter breaths out, his hands coming up to grip your breasts while you ride him. "I won't baby...fuck..." The sensation causes him to close his eyes as well. "You feel too good to stop."

You lean over, your lips crashing greedily against his, both of your tongues dancing in each other's mouths, while you grind together. His hands can't get enough and he finally starts to curl two fingers inside your pussy which elicits a sharp cry of passion, Peter playfully shushing you as he kisses your nose.

-----

The rose Miguel is holding falls onto the sand below as he watches you and Peter heavily making out, now engaged in mild foreplay and you might as well start fucking at any moment now due to how hot and heavy the scene is.

It's almost a race with how quickly the jealousy, nausea, and rage rises in Miguel's body, filling him to the brim. He stands there, jaw and shoulders tense. His cock twitches a little at your whines but seethes at the sight of another man's hands all over you. He finally rips himself away, not able to withstand it any longer.

Noir and Jess look at him with raised eyebrows as he sits at the beachside bar after downing 3 shots of tequila back to back. He just sits there, eyes glazed over at the empty shot glasses in front of him for several moments until he leans forward, laying his head in his arms with his eyes closed.

----

To be continued...

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spotify #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara angst #miguel ohara angst #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #Spotify

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herdarkestnightelegance · 24 days

Text

"Careful, I Bite"

My First - Part 1/3

Pairing: Astarion/ AFAB!Tav (you)

Warnings/tags: 18+, virginity, vulnerability, sexual tension, mature conversations and flirting, vaginal masturbation, explicit sexual fantasies (PiV), Act 1 spoilers

Length: ~ 5.5k words (they just keep getting longer, don’t they?)

Summary: Unable to resist his charms, you grow close with your handome, vampiric travel companion. Very close. The thing is just ... you've never been with anyone before ...

A/N: It's happening! My first venture into 🌶️ territory! Please know: No PHD thesis ever had this much lively back and forth and discussion as this fic! Thank you @nyx-knox for being the GOAT of beta-readers on what is basically group-project at his point and for your constant support and reassurance 🩷

Taglist: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate , @littlelovelore, @onlyancunin @chaoticbardlady99 @ancuninfiles

:::::::

You have never felt this weird kind of nervousness before.

It’s not the kind of suspense you feel before entering a dungeon full of goblins. It’s not the kind of pressure you feel when the eyes of your companions turn to you, awaiting a decision. No. This is a different, unfamiliar kind of stimulation to your nerves. It’s warm, yet tingly, it’s at the back of your mind constantly, making you smile one moment, then shake your head the next trying to escape the feeling. You find it increasingly difficult to think of anything else, even now while you are sitting on a log, warming yourself on your camp’s little fire. This has been going on for a few days now. And it’s entirely Astarion’s fault.

Astarion. The charming, flirty and admirably witty Vampire you’ve found yourself increasingly drawn to more and more with each passing day.

If you’re being honest … you kinda hated him when you first met. Headbutting him in the face was less than what he deserved for putting a knife to your throat! But you quickly understood that he was simply being cautious, scared, just as you’ve all been.

Everyone had been on edge the entire time as you tackled a whole cascade of challenges on your ongoing quest to find a cure: stopping druid rituals, fighting hags and harpies, vanquishing a whole camp of goblins. But throughout all of those adventures, you had noticed Astarion slowly gravitating towards you, closer and closer. And you found that you, too, were gravitating towards him. Which scared the absolute shit out of you.

When you woke up with his handsome face so close to yours that one night, you almost jumped out of your skin. His cool body hovering over yours, his breath on your neck … it immediately sent your mind - and your body - into overdrive.

Honestly? When you learned he was a vampire and that he was simply trying to drink your blood, you were almost relieved. Or … were you disappointed? You couldn’t tell. Because what you thought was going on for a split second was that Astarion - strange, intriguing Astarion - was actually trying to kiss you. And you didn’t entirely hate that thought? Right on the contrary!

The thing was just that, well, you have never actually been kissed by anyone before.

While you were no stranger to pleasure, knowing full well how to take excellent care of yourself, you have never been in this position. With another person this close to you while you lay on your back. So many things raced through your mind when that admittedly devastatingly beautiful man knelt so close to you. You wanted to slide out from under him as quickly as you could. You wanted to slap him for not asking to kiss you first. And you also wanted him to pin you down on your bedroll and succeed in stealing that kiss from you. So badly.

That thought was pushed to the side, though, when he revealed his vampiric nature to you. For the first time since you met on that beach, you felt like you were glimpsing a bit of him, the real him beneath that debonair facade. And you liked that he was confiding in you specifically. Those ruby eyes pleading for your help, his urgent voice trying to explain his situation, and his disarming charm, asking if you could trust him just a little further. Even though you were angry that he didn’t ask before he tried biting you, you knew you would have said yes if he had. And then …

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

Your heart was racing a thousand beats an hour when you laid down back on your bedroll. You felt your cheeks flush, mixed with a tingling, cool nervous sensation on your skin. When Astarion leaned over you once more, one arm on each side of your head, you caught your breath. This felt so intimidating … so intimate. You felt exposed, excited, nervous, scared. And you wanted this. This was so unlike you. It was far more usual for you to be refusing the physical advances of others. But you didn’t want to refuse him. In fact, for the first time, you felt the exact opposite of your usual inclination. You wanted to allow him closer.

Astarion took up your entire field of vision, or at least it felt like all you could see was him. The way he held your gaze steadily made it impossible to look anywhere else. He had a soft, reassuring and thankful smile on his lips … and next thing you knew his fangs were piercing your skin.

It hurt. At least for a moment. Your mind was racing, trying to take all of this in, all these new sensations: The ice-cold feeling of his fangs inside you, his body on top of yours, his cool lips touching and sucking on your warm skin, his increasingly heavy breathing so close to your ear, the pain … and the pleasure.

When you felt him gently cupping the back of your head, you were about ready to actually kiss him. Feeling pressure building in your core, your legs began pressing together of their own volition, causing little jolts of lust to course through you as you felt a familiar heat rising between your thighs. You desperately wanted to wrap your arms around him, to sink your fingers into those beautiful white curls of his, give in to that delicious pain, wanting him to do more, to go further.

But instead you felt your head go woozy, snapping you out of your thoughts. No, this was too much. So you told him to stop, pushed him away gently yet firmly. You were panting, and so was he. He looked so radiant at that moment, so strong. It made you forget the pain in your neck, the way the world spun around you. He looked so happy, and you did that for him.

When Astarion turned around to leave, he stopped and thanked you, telling you he wouldn’t forget this gift you have given him. And you knew, neither would you. How in the Hells were you supposed to sleep now? After that? After you felt the weight of his body on yours, felt his soft lips on your skin, after being so close you smelled the slight perfume of … something herbal and citrusy? Gods!

You laid back down on your bedroll and for at least an hour you couldn’t sleep, your companions breathing calmly around you, unaware of what had happened. All you could think about was the image of Astarion, that little smile right before he bit into your neck, his hand caressing the back of your hair ever so slightly…

You let out a sharp breath, feeling the slickness between your thighs. Might as well ...

You unlaced the front of your trousers, looking around to your sleeping companions, who mercifully had either their backs turned or at least their heads facing away from you. You would just have to get this over with quickly. Biting your lips, you made yourself comfortable once more.

Practiced fingers slid below the fabric and to the folds between your legs, finding them already wet and ready for some much-needed attention. You closed your eyes and sighed as you began touching yourself, massaging your clit as you had done many times before. The thing that was new, though, was the image in your mind:

Ruby eyes piercing into yours with a desire so fierce it almost takes your breath away. You're lying naked next to the fire, a pale, equally naked, slender body between your open legs. And then the feeling of fangs penetrating your skin as Astarion’s cock penetrates you. A delighted smile flickered across your lips, both in your dream and in real life. “Look at you, my sweet Darling.” Astarion’s voice purrs into your ear, as he thrusts himself all the way into you, stretching you deliciously. “You are taking me so well.” Slowly he begins to roll his hips, knowing how to move just the way you want it, his thrusts quickly growing faster.

The pace of your own fingers grew faster alongside your fantasies, as you imagined what it would be like having him inside you, fucking you, filling you completely. A little whimper escaped your lips, it was hard to stay silent with your imagination running wild.

“Gods, you’re so tight, my love,” he says as he spreads your legs even further, exposing you, watching your juices run down the inside of your thighs, angling himself perfectly to be able to fuck you even deeper, harder, more. He wants you, just as you want him. It’s almost too much, your inexperienced body barely able to handle his expert movements. And you feel the familiar coil tightening inside you. “Astarion …” you whisper, desperately holding on to his soft white curls.

“Yes, my love?”, he asks, kissing the small wounds he’s made on your neck.

“Cum … cum inside me ... please,” you beg between his hard thrusts, as you feel yourself edging towards your climax. And just as the both of you come undone in unison, and you feel him unloading his thick seed inside of you, he bites down on your neck once more, causing you to moan out his name - and it’s music to the pale Elf’s pointy ears.

Unable to stop it, a little moan escaped you in the real world as well. Slapping your free hand over your mouth, you are pretty sure it really was his name that escaped your lips into the silent night around you. But the surprise at your own sound was swept away by the waves of your orgasm as it rolled through you, causing your hips to quiver a few times, before your breath began to calm, and you fell into relaxed bliss.

You pulled your hand free from your pants and wiped it on the grass next to your bedroll, feeling a lot more relaxed. Wouldn’t that be something, you thought as you lay down on your side. Actually getting closer to the mysterious vampire, getting to know the person you glimpsed a bit of today. Closing your eyes, you thought that, yes, you would really like that.

Oh no. You felt your stomach drop in surprise and your eyes shot open in realization. You wanted to get to know the real him? You wanted to get closer to him? You wanted to be more… intimate with him? It was then that it dawned on you… you were slowly but surely starting to fall for the disarming vampire.

Fuck.

:::::::

His blood was just starting to slow from his hunt, but his vampiric senses were still alert, sharper than usual. So Astarion’s pointed ears heard it before he even reached the camp. The rustling of the bedroll, the rapid breathing, the suppressed whimpers. Somebody was having a bit of fun.

Making sure to stay concealed by the darkness of the treeline, he looked towards the figures lying by the fire. Oh? Not wanting to disturb the vision before him, he stopped moving. Had anyone looked in his direction, they would have seen his eyes reflecting the soft light of the camp-fire like two tiny round mirrors. What do we have here? His ruby eyes locked onto Tav as they tried to keep their pleasured movement on the bedroll to a minimum. What a delicious sight that was.

Astarion had known Tav had gotten quite attached to him, most likely falling for his wit and charm - and obviously his looks - as most did. Otherwise, why would they have allowed him to drink from them? And it was amazing, drinking from them, too. Astarion licked his lips at the memory. Tasting the blood of a thinking being, tasting them. It had been … so intimate. Better than he had ever imagined. He usually only pretended to enjoy the closeness of other people. But not Tav. He couldn’t have picked a better person to be his first.

Frankly, he even enjoyed their company, such as it was. And he knew they enjoyed his company as well. But this? This was a display he hadn’t anticipated. At least not yet.

Shaking his head ever so slightly in disbelief, Astarion was almost impressed by the bold endeavor: Tav, pleasuring themselves out in the open by the campfire? Sure, everyone was asleep, but anyone could awaken any moment from their little moans and catch those fingers dancing amongst their folds. If Tav was this desperate to release their need for him after he’d fed from them earlier in the night, they must desperately want him. A scheming grin grew on his face as he realized… This could work.

He was sure the others in the camp would know about his condition by morning. And knowing full well that people don’t trust vampires - perhaps understandably - he needed to be sure Tav was on his side. Tav was their fearless leader and fierce protector. They may have unwillingly slipped into that role, but they had sway with and the trust of everyone in camp, including him if he was being honest. If Tav kept him under their wing… he wouldn’t get flocked or kicked out. He’d be the first one protected, heard out in every conversation, involved in every plan the group made, and therefore… powerful by association. Safe.

All it would take would be what he had done for 200 years already: some casual seduction and an offer for one night of mind-blowing ecstasy to lock himself into that kind of ideal position.

Tav’s breathing grew faster then, the smell of their arousal and pumping blood slowly beginning to fill Astarion’s head, breaking his concentration for a moment, his attention now fully on the show in front of him. It was then, as Tav climaxed, trying to suppress a moan, that Astarion heard it. Clear as day. Between the whimpering and exhalation: His name, cried from their lips.

And just like that… Astarion had laid out his nice, simple plan. Oh this would be easy.

:::::::

The next morning you could barely bring yourself to look him in the eye. He was your - almost - innocent traveling companion, and you had thought of him for your dirty little fantasy. You knew this was going to drive you crazy! So you promised yourself you would stop this, trying to cushion the fall as you were definitely falling for him. But when Astarion asked you how you’ve been feeling after the bite, with his trademark smile and his charming words, your nice, simple plan fell apart instantly when you heard yourself offer your neck to him again for tonight. As he happily accepted, your heart leapt in your chest.

Things only progressed from there. Between your party’s adventures, the fighting, tending to each other's wounds, laughing with (and sometimes about) Gale, and watching Shadowheart and Lae’zel bickering with each other, you and Astarion … connected. As you began to share your stories, laugh more at each other’s quippy jokes, indulge in witty banter with every conversation that sparked between you two, you started to see more of that man that you had glimpsed that night he first bit you. Beneath the well-crafted, snarky, and charismatic facade was someone who had endured horrors you couldn’t even imagine. Beneath his undeniably stunning looks, you saw the whole picture - the flawed, broken, resilient, complex person that he was. You began caring for him so deeply, more and more each day. You were falling for him… oh, you were falling for him hard.

Many nights you spent taking care of the desire that Astarion had been fueling inside of you. It was almost embarrassing how much you were pining for him, each night in your bedroll by the fire or in your tent, where you so often wound up with shaky legs and wet fingers. You imagined his hands were the ones roaming over your body, knowing every sensitive spot, his fingers sliding inside you, curling just right, making you gasp and shiver with pleasure. And his voice in your ear, whispering all the filthy things he wants to do to you, will do to you. He was inside your head, and you truly began to yearn for him to be inside your body, too.

Oh, how your body reacted to him whenever he was close and Gods, you really hoped he could not sense it. When he chose to sit next to you by the fire, even though there was plenty of space elsewhere, you imagined his hand sliding around your neck to pull you into a deep, passionate kiss. When he would pick pieces of foliage - or goblin guts - from your hair or stand so very close to you while helping you into your armor, you imagined him pulling you behind the closest tree and taking you right there and then. And the fact that he was so openly, outrageously flirtatious with you, and only you, saying all the right things at the right time, didn’t help either. It drove you crazy with confusion, with adoration and with desire.

So when a celebration was in order after your party had succeeded in vanquishing the entirety of the goblin camp and its leaders, you found yourself sauntering over to Astarion’s tent. You were nervous, more so than ever, but there was a strange confidence roaring within you. With spirits so high, the blood still running hot from today’s victory, you felt this might be the night. You wanted it to be. And you wanted it to be with Astarion.

You were sipping from his wine bottle to calm your nerves, when he actually, finally, suggested that the two of you could make your own entertainment. It was like the surrounding music faded away, replaced by the sound of your blood pumping in your ears. The honeyed words from Astarion’s beautiful lips promised you things that made your knees weak.This was what you wanted, what you had been waiting for.

So … you agreed.

Part of you even appreciated that he made it clear where the both of you stood at all times. He told you that he liked you, that he came to enjoy the whole package, assured you that if you wanted to - and you did - the two of you could lose yourself in your own little piece of nowhere. But he never promised it would be a committed arrangement. And honestly, with the tadpole inside your head, the descent into the Underdark before you and with the whole party looking to you as their leader, you kind of appreciated that there were no strings attached.

When you found yourself walking through the trees and brush towards the clearing after everyone had gone to bed, you felt equal parts excited and nervous. Yes, you wanted to do this, you wanted for your first time to be with Astarion, but that didn’t mean you weren’t scared as all Hells. From everything he’d told you, from the way he came on to you, there was no question as to how experienced he was and what he expected to happen tonight. “And I do mean sex, to be clear. We’ve waited long enough.” And that you had indeed. You’d waited long to find a man you felt this good with, this close and attracted to.

So when you stepped into the clearing and Astarion came out from behind the tree trunk bare chested in only his breeches, your mouth ran dry at the sight of him. Gods, he was the most beautiful person you have ever seen.

“There you are…”, he said, and your whole body trembled at the sultry sound of his voice. You could see it already - lying on the soft grass beneath him, under the stars, allowing him to kiss you, touch you, trusting him to take you places you’ve only ever been in your wildest fantasies. “I’ve been waiting…”, he continued. “...Waiting, since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

His voice was so deep and sensual - but suddenly the nervousness in the back of your mind began to overwhelm you. Had he? Had he really been waiting for you? Your already pounding heart began skipping a few beats at a time, fluttering at the thought. What if … you disappointed him? What if he left this clearing tonight feeling as though the wait hadn’t been worth it?

And just like that, you were not so sure about this anymore. Oh no.

You couldn’t do this, could you? Look at him! He’s beautiful! Were you beautiful enough for him? Why was he even looking into your direction with Shadowheart and Wyll around? You’re absolutely no match for them. And he clearly knows what he’s doing and what he’s expecting is likely far more than you can give. What in the Hells could you possibly offer him? What if he didn’t like being with a novice like you? What if he didn’t like what he saw when you lay naked in front of him? Gods, you wanted him! But how much fun and pleasure would you be able to realistically provide for him, really? After all, you had no idea what to do, you have never even kissed anyone before!

You looked up into those ruby eyes, looking for reassurance, for safety, and found them… painfully devoid of that spark you came to love. You froze. His beautiful words suddenly felt so flat, calculated, and practiced. You didn’t know if it was your sudden wave of nerves preventing you from going through with this, but you knew then at that moment… this wasn’t right. No, he didn’t truly want this.

“Hold on - I’m not sure about this,” you quickly said. That seemed to bring Astarion back to you - but not in the way you would have liked.

“Then what are you doing here?” Astarion’s surprising shift in demeanor caught you off guard. You took a step back, not expecting him to talk to you in that tone. His voice almost sounded condescending, indignant. Just like that, your walls that the vampire had managed to take down brick by brick over the past weeks began rising back up again. “I thought we had an … understanding.” You took another step back when Astarion’s whole posture changed, going from seductive to dismissive. As if, now that he couldn’t have you, he had no use for you anymore and by doing so he tapped straight into your biggest worry with pinpoint precision. You felt the impossible urge to explain, to salvage whatever tonight would have been.

“I-I know, I’m sorry …”, you stammered helplessly. “It’s just… Do you really want to do this?” Astarion tilted his head, his frown deepening.

“Now why would you think I didn’t, after all this?” He sounded irritated as he flung his arms wide, gesturing to nothing in particular.

“I don’t know. Maybe you feel like you have to do this? Like - as payback for me letting you drink from me? Because I promise, you don’t have to, I don’t need anything in return.”

Astarion crossed his arms and cocked his hip, sneering down at you.

“Listen, just say the word and we can call it a night.” You were desperately looking for the right words, only for Astarion to speak before you could say anything. “But if you want to back out, don’t use me as an excuse for it. You’ve wasted enough of my time already.”

His words felt like a slap in the face.

“I’m just not sure if I can give you what you are expecting, what you want.” Gods, you hated how desperate your voice sounded.

“But why? What exactly is your problem?”Astarion kept pushing and something inside you snapped.

“Because I’ve never DONE any of this before, alright?!”

The words exploded right out of you. The amount of emotions you were feeling at that moment was overwhelming: anger at him, disappointment in yourself, sadness about how this night suddenly took such a turn. You stared at him, breathing hard, your cheeks flushing. Neither of you spoke, Astarion only looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I… I am going back to camp,” you eventually said before finally forcing yourself to turn and leave.

Gods.

This had been a disaster. This was not how this should have gone! This should have been a night - your first night - of passion, exploration and fun with this Elf you truly cared for - and who now was most certainly angry and annoyed with you for ruining his night. Did you overthink it? Should you have just gone through with it? What if whatever you and Astarion had built over the course of these last few weeks was now shattered beyond repair? How could you have pushed him away in a moment that should have been so pleasurable, so intimate?

Getting sleep was not easy that night. And the next day, you and Astarion didn’t exchange a single word. You knew your companions noticed. They knew something was going on between the two of you - but they were kind enough to let the matter rest and not ask you about it as you packed up your belongings and headed towards the empty Goblin Camp to enter the Underdark. With all enemies already vanquished, the day was uneventful, which made the silence between you and the vampire seem even more deafening.

:::::::

How, how could he have missed that? Astarion couldn’t get that question out of his head.

It was the one question that had been whirling around in his head all day while the party had continued towards the Underdark, tensely ignoring the silence between him and Tav, who usually were bantering lightheartedly all the time.

Astarion watched them as they suggested setting up the camp for the night, the last night under the open sky for who knew how long.

How had he not picked up on Tav’s inexperience? He normally could smell a virgin from miles away! He knew the shy looks, the aversion to touch and his advances. But Tav? They threw him for such a loop! They gravitated towards him. And honestly … he liked that.

Besides, he figured virgins didn’t understand pleasure, didn’t know how to pleasure themselves. But Tav obviously did! He had heard them moan his name, seen proof of their knowledge of their own body with his own eye. But most importantly: proof of their desire for him.

Astarion’s mind whirled as he paced in his tent. Why did they have to tell him that?

It should have been so easy. It should have been a plain-and-simple, routine night of sex and pleasure for Tav. But now they had to throw him that little piece of information about themselves and… Astarion stopped pacing. He’d sworn off virgins long ago. That kind of innocence, it was too rare in the world. And after stealing it once from that sweet, darling boy… he’d sworn he’d never steal it from anyone else ever again. So he had learned to recognize and avoid virgins. His meager, unnoticeable act of disobedience to his former Master. It was the only thing he was proud of - if he could even call it that.

And, gods, the things he threw in Tav’s face? Shaming them for hesitating? What the fuck was he thinking? Their fierce leader, who stormed into a hag’s swamp with no hesitation, had hesitated before him. And instead of guiding them … he had scolded them, even humiliated them. Astarion felt ashamed of himself - something he had never wanted to feel again, now that he was free. But he felt it nonetheless. He had to apologize. It didn’t matter that he snapped at them in frustration because he saw his plan crumble, because he was scared, because he was … disappointed. If he was honest with himself.

Because he was. He was disappointed that Tav wanted to back out. The realization hit him with a force he did not see coming. Yes, seducing them was part of his plan. Yes, he had used all his favorite lines at them. And also … yes, he would have liked to sleep with them. A feeling he had not felt in … gods know how long.

Tav had been so nervous, their heart beating so quickly and loudly Astarion had heard it before they had stepped onto the clearing. They were opening up to him. Trusting him. And he? He would have taken that trust and used it. He truly was a monster. Tav didn’t deserve this. Despite how last night went … he cared for them. His eyebrows flew up as he realized just how true that thought was.

He cared for them.

Shit.

:::::::

You sit by the fire, pondering last night’s fiasco and today’s unpleasant silence. Seeing how you’ve got the second watch, you should probably be more vigilant, but your thoughts keep going back to last night. Which is probably why you don’t hear Astarion approach.

“Hello, my dear.”, he says in a low, almost careful tone, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up at him, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind if I sit?” He motions towards the log you are sitting on, toward the place beside you that he took many nights. Always choosing to be close to you instead of choosing any of the free logs. You shift to the side, making room for him. Again, feeling him so close to you, his arm brushing yours, it sets your whole body on high alert. You still want him - but you aren’t so sure he really wants you anymore, or if you’re ready to forget the way he spoke to you. But regardless of the horrid tone he had taken you still feel that guilt and shame for letting him down.

“I’m… sorry about last night.”, you eventually say, even though part of you wants to wait for him to apologize first. He turns to face you.

“Whatever are you sorry for?” he asks, a bit surprised.

“For backing out last night. I know we had an agreement and it’s not that I didn’t want to, you know? It’s just … ” with a deep sigh you turn your eyes towards him, and you are glad to see that spark in them once again, that spark that was missing last night. “I’ll be honest, ok? I like you. I like you a lot, and … I would have loved to have spent last night with you. But … I also know I don't have much to offer you, in terms of sex. We’ve all been under a lot of stress lately, so I understand you probably wanted to let off some steam … and I’m sorry I messed that up for you.” Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you turn your gaze back to the fire. You sit in silence for a moment before Astarion speaks.

“No. You have no reason to apologize for anything, my dear. I was quite out of line, inexcusably so. I should have relented the moment you had any doubt. I… apologize.” His words make you look towards him once more. Never had you heard Astarion apologize before, to anyone at camp, for that matter. “And I will do my best to refrain from feeding into this … thing between us, if it truly makes you uncomfortable. I will cease my flirtations, I promise.”

“What? No, please don’t?” you say quickly, unable to stop a shy smile from appearing on your face. “I … quite like your flirtations. And I wanted to spend the night with you, you know. I still do. But … let me ask you … ” The pale Elf patiently waits for you to find the right words. “Do you really want to sleep with me?” Astarion’s eyebrows go up, that surprised expression returning to his exquisite face.

“Darling,” Astarion’s tone is affectionate, reassuring, and hearing him call you this pet name with that sweet voice of his makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Are you really asking me that, after all I did? All I’ve said to you?” There is a slight edge to his voice now, though you can’t pinpoint what it is. He smiles at you with one corner of his mouth raised slightly and you half expect him to laugh, but Astarion falls uncharacteristically quiet, so you speak.

“Answer the question.” The amused smile on Astarion’s immaculate face disappears and gives way to a look of seriousness, of sincerity.

“Yes. I do,” he says in a low but firm voice. “Very much so.”

Relief floods your entire body, the tension you felt all day melting from you.

“Then … may we start over?”, you ask timidly with a smile on your face. Astarion answers with a gentle smile of his own.

“My dear. There is nothing I’d like more.”

#ohoh herdarkestnightelegance wrote something #this is about astarion #astarion ancunin #wait is it gettin hot or …#astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction

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hier--soir · 1 year

Text

whole new can of worms

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two friends decide to blow off a little steam together. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, famous HOG joel miller lmao, age gap [20 years], language, alcohol consumption, established friendship, guitar playing joel!!, oral [f and m recieving], p in v sex, starts slow and careful and ends up rough oops. word count: 6.9k (nice) series masterlist | masterlist a/n: okay LOOK. i’m working on a final part to this little impromptu series, but I got very side-tracked with the idea of a prequel and then the most smut I’ve ever written just fucking spilled out of me. this is the first time they had sex, ladies and gentlemen. you get the beginning before you get the end. enjoy. also, this moment from tlou pt 2 game is what i was picturing for the beginning when joel is playing the song. dont watch if you don't want to, its from a cut scene very late in the second game. zero spoilers, just joel miller strumming that damn guitar in a way i'll never forget. this is part one of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: two, three, four.

“Play that one I like.”

Joel offered no verbal response, but sat up straighter in his chair, fingers adjusting along the fretboard of his guitar. You relaxed into your seat, closing your eyes and taking a long sip from your glass of amber liquor.

He began playing and you smiled happily, goosebumps breaking out across your skin as the familiar tune filled the air between you and your friend, melding with the sound of rain softly pattering against the roof of his veranda. You kicked your feet up onto the table between you, the tense muscles in your legs aching from the stretch.

“Get your feet off the table,” Joel muttered, fingers never ceasing on the instrument. “Animal.”

Your eyes stayed closed, but you stuck your tongue out in his direction, smirking a little and keeping your feet up, knowing he didn’t really mind.

Both of you had endured a long fucking day.

Winter was fading into Spring, and the trees and plants in Jackson were slowly but surely beginning to bloom again. It meant you were spending more hours in the green house than out on patrol, and you weren’t complaining. Tending to the garden relaxed you, connected you to nature and to one of the food sources in the commune that helped put a little bit of food on everyone’s plate each week. Working there made you feel connected to the town, and you loved it, truly. Except, for when a thunderstorm happened.

They’d scared you for as long as you could remember. Since you were a kid, thunder and lightning had made you want to crawl under the covers on your bed and hide away until the loud noises disappeared. But as a full-grown woman, you weren’t afforded such luxuries. Rain, hail or shine, the people in Jackson depended on each other, and you couldn’t duck out of a shift because of a silly little phobia.

When the rain started pouring down on the glass roof of the greenhouse you hadn’t been surprised. Only a few weeks into springtime, the town was still shaking off the remnants of a bitterly cold winter, and a little rain was still common. It was only when the first crack of thunder sounded that you’d stilled, hands frozen gripping a heavy pot, an unwelcome shiver racing down your spine. You’d had to work for hours, the sound of rain pelting against the roof accompanying you, with flashes of lightning appearing out of the corner of your eye all day.

When all was said and done, you’d trudged through the downpour to Joel’s house and arrived on his doorstep looking like a drowned rat, only to find out that he’d spent his afternoon stuck outside on patrol, in the very weather you were so upset about.

He’d opened the door with damp hair, bundled in warm clothes, the tip of his nose a light shade of pink from the cold.

“Whiskey?” he’d asked.

You nodded. “Whiskey.”

And so the pair of you had ended up on his porch, under cover from the residual spit of rain, forgetting all about the shit day through good company and good alcohol.

As Joel strummed the last few chords of the song you sighed glumly, cracking an eye open to watch him. He set the guitar down gently and reached for his glass.

“So beautiful,” you murmured. “Wish I could play.”

“And then what use would I be?” he chuckled. “Can’t have you learning guitar; I’d have no one to play for anymore.”

You watched him closely. Staring into his glass, you could see him mulling the words over in his head. Ellie had hardly spoken a word to him in weeks, and you could see the toll it was taking, although you never pried. Clearly, something had happened, and although you and Joel were close, you hadn’t wanted to insert yourself into whatever drama had consumed his little found family. It made your chest hurt though, to watch him miss that girl. He’d always loved playing for her.

“Good thing I’m lazy then,” you mused softly. “Swear I couldn’t play an instrument with a gun to my head. I’ll need to keep you around.”

“Works for me,” he said, refilling both your glasses. “You on the patrol roster tomorrow?”

You shook your head, accepting the glass with a grateful smile. A slight buzz warmed your insides, fighting to keep your body temperature up as the cool breeze licked at your exposed hands and face. “Nope, I’m a free agent tomorrow, no responsibilities.”

“God damn,” he rolled his eyes. “Gonna be stuck out there all alone with Tommy.”

“Devastating,” you grinned. “I’m way better company.”

“Too right,” Joel agreed. “What’s your plan for the day, little miss no responsibilities? Still reading that book I found you?”

Probably masturbate. The thought zipped through your mind so suddenly that you felt your chest warm, and you cleared your throat softly.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Probably just read for a while. Dinner at Maria and Tommy's, remember?”

You hoped he didn’t see through the lie, because the truth was that you were embarrassed by yourself. Only a few days before you’d been struck by the realisation that you hadn’t had sex, or even been touched intimately by another person, in months. In fact, you noted sullenly, it had been half a fucking year. And you were struggling. It was your longest dry spell in a while, and every night lately you’d found yourself tangled up in your bed with your hand in your underwear, wishing desperately that someone, anyone, else was there with you.

Trying to ward off the unsavoury thoughts filling your mind, you took a deep gulp of whiskey and shut your eyes, contemplating asking if he had any cigarettes laying around.

Suddenly, a deep groan pierced the air between you and your eyes shot open. What the fuck?

With wide eyes, you saw that Joel was gripping his right leg tightly, thumb rubbing deep circles into the skin above his knee cap, and you forced yourself to relax. A sound of pain, you realised. But your heart had stuttered in your chest, because as out of character as it would’ve been, with your eyes closed it had sounded like a vaguely sexual noise. You rolled your eyes, willing yourself to get a grip. But it had been so long, and the sound of a man groaning in any way was enough to light a fire in your stomach.

“It’s the cold,” he noticed your stare. “Makes my knee ache.”

You nodded knowingly, eyes watching as his large hand gripped his thigh, applying pressure to the tender area.

“What’s up your ass?” Joel asked.

“Huh?” your gaze flashed up to meet his and found him watching you closely, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re frownin’,” he said. “Gone all quiet suddenly.”

“So are you,” you huffed defensively, face warming. “You always fucking frown, I can’t do it one time?”

“No,” he grinned cheekily, stilling rubbing his knee. “I frown enough for the both of us. You can figure somethin’ else out.”

You let out a begrudging chuckle and felt the indent between your eyebrows relax.

“Seriously,” he pushed. “What’s wrong? Is it too cold? We should move inside.”

“No,” you cringed, scratching the side of your neck awkwardly. Lowering your legs off the table you sat up a little straighter in your chair. “It’s good out here, I like it. I’m just… distracted, I don’t know.”

“What’s on your mind?” he sipped his whiskey.

Without needing any more prompting, you gave up on beating around the bush. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

A choked sound escaped him, and he swallowed quickly, coughing into his elbow. “Christ, what?”

“I’m not,” your cheeks were on fire. “I’m not thinking about you having sex, relax. I was thinking about me having sex. Or not having sex, to be more precise.”

He coughed again, an awkward expression flashing across his face.

You and Joel had been friends for a few years now, since he and Ellie returned to Jackson and decided to settle in the commune. After being friends with Tommy for a few years before that, you’d fallen into a natural friendship with his older brother. It was no secret that there was 20 odd year age difference between you and Joel, but in a post-apocalyptic world, it had never phased either of you. Friends were friends, and an age gap didn’t impact much. But sex was a topic that had seldom come up in conversation over those few years. Here and there maybe, but never in detail, and never so candidly.

“I almost walked in on Shae and Petra fucking the other day,” you continued plainly. “She was late for patrol, so I went over to see if she’d slept in, and I could hear them from outside the fucking house. Stood there like an ass for a minute, just listening like a creep.”

Joel watched you closely, and you noticed his hand gripped his glass a little tighter, fingertips white from the pressure “You… listened?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you cringed, rubbing a hand over your face shamefully. “Just for a fucking second. Hadn’t realised how long it had been, and it was like my feet wouldn’t move.”

“I see.”

“You better not tell a soul about this,” you pointed at him threateningly. “I’ll end you if anybody finds out, Miller. I swear.”

“I believe you,” he snorted, holding his hands up in surrender. “My lips are sealed.”

You relaxed a little, relieved to discover that he wasn’t going to be as awkward about it as you’d first feared.

“How long has it been?”

Your eyes ticked up to stare at him again. “Like, six months or something.”

Joel let out a low whistle and nodded slowly, sipping from the crystal tumbler in his hand. “You poor soul.”

“Oh, come off it,” you scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re having sex and I’m not? This just keeps getting worse.”

“Fuck you,” he drawled mockingly, that deep Texan accent making you grin. “Would it be such a surprise if I was?”

“S’just bullshit,” you glowered, picking at your nails in frustration. Traces of soil still lined the creases in your palms and you rubbed at it furiously, in a fruitless attempt at cleaning them.

“I’m not,” is all he said, and you frowned at him in confusion. “Havin’ sex,” he added with a smirk. "And it's been longer for me, so quit your whinin'."

You raised your eyebrows, appreciating the honesty. “Well thank god I’m not the only one.”

“Don’t know when I would,” he shrugged simply. “And who would I be having sex with, anyways? Spend all my fuckin’ time on patrol listening to Tommy talk for hours, or I’m sleepin’, or I’m with you.”

The thought itched so suddenly at the back of your brain, and you fought against it, shaking your head ever so slightly to push it away. Don’t think that. But it was persistent, and after a few moments of silence, your mind was filled with thoughts of you and Joel Miller fucking.

Admittedly, it was something you’d thought about once or twice when you’d first met him. He was a handsome guy, and his arrival in Jackson had definitely caused a stir among the women in the commune. But you’d fallen into a friendship so quickly, so comfortably, that the thought had never reared its ugly head again. Until now.

You watched him for a moment. His hair was dry at that point, and short messy curls framed his face and neck. He had neat dark facial hair, with sweet specks of ashy grey mixed in here and there. That familiar scar on the bridge of his nose. Lips that had gone a darker shade of pink from the cold, that you’d never realised looked quite so… plush. Eyes trailing down, your gaze raked over his hands. Long, calloused fingers that wrapped around almost the entirety of his glass. the warmth in your stomach spread downward, and you knew you should feel embarrassed at where your brain was taking you, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Images flashed through your mind of his hands gripping you like that. Fingers leaving marks on your thighs, on your neck. You shivered, looking away quickly.

“Fuck,” you sighed quietly, not even caring if he heard.

“Hey,” he said softly, assuming you were upset. “Someone’ll come along. We could talk to Tommy about setting you up or somethin’.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned in your chair to face him head on. Joel noticed and adjusted his position to do the same, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look?” he asked, eyebrows pinching together.

Jesus, here goes nothing.

“What if we fucked?”

Joel stared. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, and he put his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“What?” he said lowly, his voice taking on a sudden gravelly quality.

“I mean,” you searched desperately for the words to explain yourself, licking your lips nervously. “You said it yourself, we’re so busy, right? Always working, or sleeping, or we’re hanging out, you and me. So, what if we just… blew off a little steam together?”

His eyebrows had raised so dramatically you thought they might disappear into his hairline. It wasn’t often you managed to shock Joel, and you laughed gently at the astounded expression that decorated his face.

“You want to blow off steam… with me?” he pointed lamely at his chest.

“Don’t sound so incredulous,” you joked. “You’re a catch, Joel. You know the teens call you a HOG, right? Hot old guy.“

“Shut up,” he held up a hand to silence you, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as you laughed at his embarrassment. “Don’t want to hear that shit.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything, Joel,” you reassured, veering back on topic. “We could just… help each other wind down after a long day.”

You watched each other in silence for a moment, and you noticed him shuffle slightly in his seat, hand gripping his knee once again. For a minute, you worried that you’d upset him. The friendship you two shared was strong, and you always known you could confide almost anything in him. He was trustworthy, and valued your word above so many others. But maybe this was over the line.

As you were about to speak again, about to take it all back and apologise for even suggesting it, he finally opened his mouth.

“It wouldn’t mean anything?” he clarified. “This won’t affect our friendship.”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing at all. No strings, bud. Final offer.”

With a deep, rumbling sigh, Joel snatched his glass off the table and downed the remainder of its contents before standing up. “Alright then.”

You’d been in Joel’s room a hundred times over the years. Hauling him out of bed for patrol after he’d accidentally slept in, or rifling through his chest of drawers to steal a thick pair of socks. But never for this reason. The pair of you stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, staring at everything other than each other, as the air crackled with palpable tension.

Joel scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and you smirked, unfamiliar with seeing him being unsure of himself.

“If you don’t want to, we can just forget I ever sai-“

“Just taking your fuckin’ clothes off,” he grunted, staring you down suddenly. Wide eyed, you felt a rush of heat through your thighs.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “Romance isn’t dead.”

He huffed out a laugh and your shoulders relaxed, happy to see a crack through his tense façade. Your tugged off your sweater, and then your shirt, tossing them over the chair in the corner of his room. Working quickly, you undid the zipper on your pants and pulled them down your legs until you were left in your underwear, a thin white singlet, and your socks.

You reminded yourself that Joel had already seen you naked, thinking back on a time when the two of you had gone skinny dipping in a lake you stumbled across on patrol the summer before. But this was so different. This wasn’t a random moment of spontaneity. And at the lake he'd been a gentleman, averting his eyes for the most part out of politeness, but now? Now he was watching your every move.

Silently, he undid the strap off his watch and placed it on the top of his dresser, before working to undo the buttons on his shirt. After he had tugged it off, you let your eyes trail over his exposed skin, and with no fabric covering him, you could see how quickly his chest rose and fell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his chest. You felt his heart race under the warm skin and smiled. “It’s just me. Let me help you relax, okay?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips quickly, and you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. You didn’t dwell on it though, and leaned forward to drag your lips across the skin of his neck. He smelt like rain and pine needles, and you inhaled deeply, pressing soft kisses along his pulse point. One of his hands landed heavily on your waist and his thumb begun rubbing encouraging circles over your hip bone. You hummed against his skin, pressing your chest against his. Exposed to the cool temperature, your nipples pebbled underneath your shirt, and from his exhale you knew he could feel them pressing against his bare chest.

With a slight tremor in your hand, you trailed your fingers down his chest. Through the soft hair smattered there, over the thick jagged scar on his stomach, to his belt buckle. Joel shivered lightly, gripping your waist a little tighter. You worked quickly to undo his belt, and then you dragged his zipper down. With a low sigh, you rested your hand over the front of his pants. He jolted slightly, hand sliding around your back to hold you tighter to his chest. With your face hidden in his neck, you couldn’t see his reaction, but you took the firm pressure of his hand on your back as a clear sign to continue. You palmed him gently through his pants, listening to the little puffs of air that rushed out of his nose as he kept his breathing calm. A surge of confidence rushed through you, and you stepped away, letting your hand fall away from him. His arm dropped from your back to his side, and he watched with bated breath as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him.

You gripped the waistband of his pants and started to drag them down his legs, helping him step out of them. Wearing nothing but a tight pair of briefs, it was impossible not to stare. You could see the shape of him through the dark fabric, your mouth salivated. More, you needed to see more. Without wasting a second, you tucked your fingers into the band of them and pulled them down slowly, giving him the chance to stop you if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He watched you with hooded dark eyes, chest moving with deep controlled breaths, his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. With his underwear gone, Joel’s cock finally came into your sight. He was only half hard, you realised with awe, and your stomach tingled as you realised what you were in for. Reaching out, your traced your fingers slowly over his hip bones, smiling as goosebumps broke out across his skin, before gently wrapping your fingers around him.

A shaky breath escaped from his nose.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, hand stroking softly along his length. He nodded jerkily. “Why don’t you sit on the bed?”

Joel dropped heavily onto the edge of his bed, and you moved forward to rest on your knees in between his parted legs, placing your hand back over him. The air in the room had turned humid, and you could feel sweat forming on your back out of anticipation. The only light source came from the moon shining in his window, bathing the both of you in a pale light.

“You’re so handsome,” you sighed wistfully, gripping him tighter. “I’ve always known it, but seeing you like this is different. So handsome, Joel.”

He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, gripping your skin and massaging the knotted muscle at the top of your back. You groaned appreciatively, and without another moment’s hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his thigh. No more fucking around. You needed him.

Your hand stroked him firmer, tighter, but your mouth was salivating, desperate to taste him. So you dragged wet kisses along his leg until you reached his abdomen, and then you brought your wet mouth to hover over his cock. You heard his breath hitch and smiled devilishly, staring greedily at his ruddy tip, marvelling as a drop of precum leaked out of him. Painfully slow, you pushed forward and pressed a kiss to it, tongue darting out to swipe along him and taste his salt. Joel hissed in surprise, gripping your shoulder tighter as his other hand moved to the back of your head. Not putting any pressure there, just holding you. Lathing your tongue over his head, you moaned lowly at the taste of him. Salty and warm and masculine. You could feel your underwear sticking uncomfortably against you from how wet you were. Closing your eyes, you cupped his balls gently and pressed wet kisses down his length, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein that ran from base to tip, and basking in the short gasps that flew out of his mouth.

“Stop teasin’,” he grumbled, and you looked up with a smirk to see his dark eyes glaring down at you.

“Sorry,” you lied, before taking his head into your warm mouth and sucking gently. Slowly, you pressed forward, taking more of him in. You felt him swell against your tongue, getting harder from the stimulation, and you hummed around him. He was so big. Maybe bigger than anyone you’d been with, and you struggled to take it all. He was so thick and heavy in your mouth, it was all you could think about. Consuming every thought, every feeling; all you could focus on was the weight of him on your tongue. You worked on creating a rhythm, bobbing your head and taking as much of him in your mouth as you could, while your hand gripped him at the base, stroking him at the same time.

And finally, finally, he made a sound.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, drawing out the vowel as a heavy breath he’d been holding escaped his lungs. His fingers dragged through your hair roughly, gripping the back of your head. You pushed yourself forward, taking more of him in until he was pressing into your throat, and you swallowed tightly around him. “Christ, feels so fuckin’ good.”

Seemingly against his will, Joel’s hips bucked upward off the bed and you gagged around him, tears springing into your eyes. He moaned lowly, cursing under his breath at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. Unable to help yourself, you removed your hand from him and lowered it down your body, slipping your fingers underneath the band of your underwear and dipping into the wet heat between your own legs. Breathing harshly through your nose, you moaned around him as your finger brushed your aching clit. You pulled back and worked your tongue over his weeping slit, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightened as you paid close attention to the most sensitive part of him.

“You’re drivin’ me insane,” he ground out, and you glanced up to see him watching you reverently, eyes wide and glossy, cheeks flushed. “So fuckin’ hot. God, you have the prettiest mouth, how did I never notice that? Never fuckin’ thought about how good my cock would look between your lips until it was happening. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

Your cunt pulsed against your fingers and you whimpered, taking him back in your mouth as far as you could. God, the way he spoke made you fucking ache for him. after so many years of knowing him, hearing his voice every day, you’d never have imagined him saying things like that to you. But the weight of him in your mouth was delicious, and his words only spurred you to push forward, forward, forward, revelling in the way he groaned as your nose brushed the dark curls at his base. Tears leaked out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks from the effort, but you didn’t stop. You slid a finger inside yourself and gagged around him again, eyes rolling back in your head at the intoxicating sensation of having something inside both your mouth and your pussy.

“Takin’ me so well,” his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tears. “God, I’m in your fuckin’ throat, baby.” The pet name made your stomach tighten, and you moaned as more slick formed around your fingers.

“Shit,” he choked out suddenly, losing all composure. “Are you fucki-“

You moaned, eyebrows furrowing as you fucked your hand and bobbed your mouth up and down quicker over his length.

“Stop,” he ordered, saying your name firmly. “I- Stop, I’m gonna come.” You ignored him, making a high-pitched sound around him as you felt the hot coil in your stomach begin to tighten. His hand gripped your hair tighter, and he pulled you off him.

You blinked lazily up at him, eyebrows furrowed dejectedly, lips parted. A string of saliva hung in the air between your bottom lip and his tip. You dragged your fingers out of your underwear, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Jesus, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” he groaned and broke eye contact, gripping your shoulder to pull you up off the floor. “Get up.”

Pushing gently on your shoulders, he nudged you forward onto the bed, and you crawled up before collapsing with your heads against the pillows. His bed was softer than you’d anticipated, and everything smelt like him. The pillows, the duvet. God, even if this was a one-time thing, you’d never forget that smell. He followed you, settling with his legs in between yours, and placed his palms on your stomach, pushing the thin material of your shirt up and over your breasts until it was bunched around your collarbones. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest, and you were aching for him, begging him with your eyes to just please, do something, anything.

And Joel was on you before you could speak, his fingers tracing and over your nipples, squeezing the weight of your breast in his palm before latching his lips onto you. He sucked your painfully tight nipple into his mouth, tongue lazily swiping across it, driving you insane. You sighed heavily, running a hand over the skin of his back and holding him to you. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin ever so lightly and your back arched off the bed. Moving over, he shifted his ministrations to your other breast, his eyes closed as he wet your skin with his slick mouth. And then one of his hands was drifting down your stomach, tickling over your skin, under it met your underwear, and he was cupping you through the fabric. Your hips stuttered upward, and he groaned into your chest, trailing his fingers over the soaked material.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he muttered into your skin, and you nodded franticly against the pillows. “Did you get this turned on just from havin’ my cock in your mouth? Had to touch yourself?” Surprise zapped through you once more, ecstatic to learn just how much he loved to talk during sex. It was one of your favourite things, and it had always killed you to have sex with someone who was just silent the whole time.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Wanted you to finish in my mouth.”

He bit down onto your chest in response and you cried out quietly, eyes rolling back as he sucked a mark onto your skin with his fingers continued tracing feather light over your covered core.

“Maybe later,” his voice was strained. “Need to see you come first.”

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, and then he was touching you with no barrier, and you trembled beneath him. You’d forgotten how good it felt to have someone else’s hands on you.

Joel groaned as he dipped his middle finger between your warm folds, gliding it up and down along your core, getting it covered in your slick. He swirled the tip of his finger around your entrance and you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his hand. But he didn’t go inside you. His finger moved back up, all the way up, and swiped gently over your clit and you let out a pathetic moan. Such a small, miniscule touch had your stomach tensing painfully, ridiculously close to orgasm after so much time.

Bringing his face up to rest beside yours, he sucked your earlobe into his mouth gently, before murmuring in your ear, “I want to taste you.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned by the feeling of his fingers against you, until he probed you for a response, purring your name into your ear.

“Need to hear you say it,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” you begged, eyes shut tightly as he rubbed soft circles around your bundle of nerves. “I want you to taste me.” A grunt of frustration left your mouth as his hand disappeared and you opened your eyes to glare at him, but your mouth fell open, awestruck, when you saw him raise his soaked digits to his lips.

“Like this?” he goaded, sucking your slick off himself and groaning.

“Please,” you repeated, mouth dry as you watched him hum around his middle finger. “Need your mouth on me, your tongue, I-“

“Okay,” he soothed, moving down the bed in an instant. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

He spread your legs apart, fingers splayed as he held your thighs against the bed, displaying your weeping centre for him to see. A deep sound echoed though the room, and it took you a moment to realise it had been Joel. His dark eyes stared at the spot between your legs, and he dragged his fingers through the coarse hair that covered you.

His movements were torturously slow as he leaned down, pressing sloppy kisses on your hips, along the inside of your thighs, until finally his hot breaths were fanning across your core. You clenched around nothing, whimpering at how empty you felt but knowing it would have to wait.

It was like stepping into a warm bath. The second his tongue was on you, fire raced through your veins, warming your body from head to toe. A sound of relief slipped from your lips, and your eyes rolled back as he licked a broad stripe up the entire length of you. A raspy groan vibrated against you as he pressed a messy kiss against your pussy. You looked down and gasped at the sight of his eyes already on you, watching you and your reactions to him.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he drawled against you and you twitched at the sensation of his lips brushing against your clit. His thumbs pressed against your folds, holding you open for him to see everything, and he lathed his warm tongue against your clit, circling it until you were moaning and tensing your thighs against his hold, muscles screaming at you to press against his head and hold him to you.

You whispered his name over and over as if it were a prayer. As if you’d forgotten all other words in the English language and his name was your only salvation. His tongue dipped inside your entrance, prodding firmly until you whimpered and begged him to please, please, let you come.

He ate you out like a man possessed. Like you were his last meal and he intended to savour every god damn second of the experience. He was ravenous, lips and tongue working together to make every muscle in your body tighten until you were gasping. At some point your hand had drifted behind his head and you found yourself tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling it tightly as his mouth moved against you.

“Joel,” you groaned. He hummed against you, movements never ceasing. “Oh fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come.”

His eager moan into your cunt was all it took for you to be catapulted over the precipice and drop into your orgasm. Your body was on fire, vibrating against him as you trembled through it, moans and cries leaving your mouth as your way of thanking him. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, and there would no doubt be marks there tomorrow to remind you were his fingertips had dug into your skin. As your body relaxed into the mattress again, he pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling back and dragging his face across your thigh, wiping the remnants of your slick off his facial hair.

“Fuck,” he rasped, grinning up at you with glistening lips.

“So good,” you agreed, nodding as you tried to catch your breath.

“Almost came all over the sheets,” he admitted and you laughed, beckoning him towards you. He stumbled a bit, one of his knees buckling below him on the bed, leading him to land awkwardly on top of you.

“Shit,” he groused. “Sorry, bad fuckin’ knee. You’ve got me all bent out of shape.”

You chuckled lowly, pulling him up to lay beside you on the bed. “Let’s not put anymore pressure of them then, okay?” He watched you carefully, curiously, as you turned on your side and then moved backwards, pressing yourself flush against his chest.

His cock pulsed against your ass, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed on your stomach to hold you against him as he rutted forward. The feeling of his wet tip dragging along your skin reignited the fire in you and you whimpered, lifting your leg only to push it back and drape it over his waist as much as you could.

“You want it like this?” he asked urgently, hot breaths fanning across your sweaty neck. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently.

You nodded, and waited as he pushed his body a little lower on the bed. His hand disappeared from your chest, and you allowed yourself to pout a little, only because you knew he couldn’t see your face. And then his left arm slithered underneath your shoulder and wrapped loosely your neck, gripping your opposite arm to pin you against him. His free hand gripped his cock and pushed it forward until he was sliding his head between your folds.

Both of you sighed at the sensation and you gripped his arm in anticipation. You could feel his torso moving against your back as he breathed, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin.

“You ready?” he asked and you grunted, pushing back against him again.

“Joel,” you said in a dangerously low tone. “If you’ve ever cared about me, you will stop teasing and fuck me right now.”

He laughed darkly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

He notched his tip at your entrance and you gasped as he pressed forward, pressing himself inside of you. It took what felt like minutes for him to bottom out, and when you felt his hips pressing against your ass, you tried to relax. The burn was intense, and you cursed yourself for not anticipating a little bit of pain after such a long dry spell. Joel held still, fingers stroking carefully over the skin of your shoulder, understanding that you needed a second.

“Fuck,” you choked out. “Joel, you’re huge.”

He let out a gravelly sound into the back of your neck, body shuddering against yours. “You’re takin’ it so well though,” he gritted out. “So tight around me, grippin’ me so good.”

He pulled back a touch before pressing back into you, and you moaned deeply. That was all the confirmation he needed to continue, pulling almost fully out of you before moving into you harder, stronger, and beginning a steady pace. Your body jolted forward with every one of his movements, but his arm around your neck held you firmly, never allowing you to go too far.

Curses drifted from your mouth, and you hid your face in his arm, biting down on the muscle of his bicep to stifle your sounds. You clenched around him suddenly and his hips stuttered forward, slamming into you in a way that made your stomach tense deliciously. He was so fucking deep, the angle allowing him to glide against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuckin’,” he moaned. “You’re so good, bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you darlin’?”

You writhed in his arms, accepting the brutal pace he’d set. His skin connected with yours over and over, a satisfying smack, smack, smack sound filling the air.

“J-Joel,” you sobbed. “Oh my fucking god, I-“ He cut you off, gripping your chin and swiftly tugging your face upward so he could see you, and then his mouth was crashing down on yours. He groaned into your mouth, tongue pressing against your lips to part them and then tangling against yours. His lips were soft and wet and you didn’t even care about the odd angle your neck was twisted at as you moaned into it. His thrusts didn’t let up for a second, even as you murmured desperate sounds against each other’s lips.

“C’mon,” he grunted into your mouth. “Give me another one.” His hand dropped to grip your neck, the sensation only heightening the feeling of him inside you. Liquid heat was spreading in your abdomen, curling through your veins, turning your entire body into jelly. His free hand drifted down your stomach and then his middle finger was dragging across your clit, and a harsh cry spilled from your mouth.

“Shit,” you gasped, face contorting as you felt yourself near your end. He was fucking everywhere, holding you against him by your neck, pounding into you while his fingers circled your clit roughly, and the coil in your stomach just snapped. You yelled his name, body tensing up as he pushed into you, wet squelching sounds filling the air as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Say my name,” his voice urged in your ear, and you happily obliged, chanting his name like a mantra as he worked your body through it. Within a minute he was groaning frantically, and then he pulled out, and you could feel his come coating your back as he finished. You glanced over your shoulder to see him. His mouth was ajar, soft curses falling from his lips as he gripped his cock, angling it towards you as he painted your skin with his spend.

“Sorry,” he rushed out breathlessly, wide eyes meeting yours. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his orgasm, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and you smiled at the sight. But he looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you warily.

“For what?” you frowned softly, rolling forward onto your stomach to free his arm that was trapped underneath you. “What’s wrong?”

“Came on you,” he clarified. “Should’ve asked first.”

A grin split across your face and his eyes lit up when he saw it, face relaxing again. “Ever the gentleman,” you chuckled. “It’s fine Joel, it was hot.”

His body relaxed and he dropped down to rest on his back, looking at you with a soft, curious expression. “It was,” he agreed quietly.

For a moment the pair of you just laid there, gazing at each other in a moment of wonder, before you suddenly became aware of how much colder the room was now that it was over. You shivered slightly, lifting to sit on your knees. Joel’s eyes trailed over your exposed body, gazing at your breasts, and your stomach, before resting on your face again.

“I’m gonna shower, and then hit the road,” you told him, cringing at the prominent ache between your thighs as you stepped off the bed. You picked your clothes up off the chair in the corner and turned back to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night right, dinner at Maria and Tommy’s?”

He was watching you in a daze, eyelids heavy with drowsiness, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Dinner at Maria and Tommy’s.” His eyes suddenly widened and he rolled over, reaching underneath his pillow before revealing a piece of small dark fabric. Your underwear. He held them out in your direction.

“Keep them big guy,” you winked, and he laughed deeply, dropping them back onto the bed.

You padded towards the door, ready to pop into the bathroom and then head home, before a thought struck you. Resting your shoulder against the doorway you looked at him again, smiling at the sight of him lying naked and fucked out on the bed, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. He looked about as relieved as you felt.

“Hey Joel,” you said quietly, and his eyes flashed open, raising an eyebrow at you. “Between us, right? Probably best if we don’t tell anyone else this happened.”

He nodded once, smiling lazily. “Between us.”

part two

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fwb joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #cat's outta the bag #don't cry over spilt milk #whole new can of worms

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undertheorangetree · 4 months

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Cherry Wine

Summary- Coriolanus returns to the Capitol with his most prized possession.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Female reader. Technically TBOSAS spoilers. Reader is essentially Lucy Gray. Really incredibly toxic relationship. Choking. Fingering. P in V sex. This is technically kidnapping.

Author’s Note- I wasn’t sure if this was ever gonna actually see the light of day but I am a lush little creature so enjoy. This is part 2 to In the Woods Somewhere but can probably be read as a standalone?? Either way full story linked below :)

She hates the Capitol. She has hated it since the first moment she set eyes on it. Admittedly, she had not seen much when she first arrived- thrown in a cage at the zoo, paraded through the streets, dragged into the arena- but it had been enough to forge an opinion. She hates the opulence, the disgusting displays of wealth. The way everything of value is flaunted and passed around as if it’s frivolous and easily replaced. How the towers loom over the wide streets, so different from the ramshackle buildings that make up Twelve. The way garbage is swept from the roadside the moment it appears, refusing for even a moment to appear as anything less than immaculate. Everything manicured. Everything perfect. Designed to make an impression, everything about it seems to grab you by the jaw and force you to look at the perfection of it all, nails dug in lest you attempt to look away. A perfectly ripe peach, all sunset pink with its soft, near endearing fuzz, hiding the rotten, maggot-ridden center underneath.

It's enough to make her miss the coal dusted streets of home.

The Snow penthouse- Coriolanus’s penthouse- seems to be the perfect example of Capitol excellence. The perfect patterns built into the tile in the bathrooms, the marble floors that seem to glitter beneath her feet, the paintings displayed behind thin sheets of glass to keep them perfectly preserved. She can see everything from up here, the highest apartment in the tallest building, and the longer she stares out the window, the more she comes to realize she hates to be so high up.

Or perhaps she simply hates that this bay window is the only view she gets of the outside world. The only view she has gotten in weeks.

She had regretted following Coriolanus onto that train the moment she set foot inside it but by then it had been too late. The doors had slid shut as silent as a wraith and she knows her face must have changed as he had half hauled her into one of the padded chairs and made her sit, watching her with his too blue eyes as if he were waiting for her to run. And had she thought she stood a chance, perhaps she would have. She should have. But then she had caught sight of the Avoxes serving them, standing silent and resigned in the corner and knew that should she cause a scene, she would likely share their fate.

So she had sat there uncomplainingly. Let him parade her back home and listened as the lies he told Grandma’am and Tigris flowed off his tongue like honey, hating the bits of truth sprinkled throughout. Holding her hand like a shackle as he told them how they had fallen in love. That he couldn’t possibly leave her behind. That she wasn’t really district, was she? Not like the others, not when she had never truly been one of them, not now that she was a Victor. The perfect lovestruck boy and his pretty little prize. Who could make them part now, separate them so soon after they had found each other? They had fawned all over him- and Tigris over her- so quickly it had made her skin crawl but still, she had said nothing, offering smiles she knew didn’t reach her eyes.

She had continued to say nothing when she heard him tell the Plinths just how sorry he was for Sejanus, that if he had known what he was doing, he would have stopped him. As he told them how dear his dead friend had been to him. Best friends. She had listened silently as the Plinth’s rewarded him for his devotion, handing him the keys to a lavish new penthouse for little more than his supposed loyalty, for loving their sweet, kind Sejanus. The keys to her self imposed prison.

Coriolanus had never told her how the Capitol had gotten its hands on the jabberjay that damned his lone friend to the hanging tree but he didn’t have to. She has had plenty of time to put that story together herself, sitting alone in his locked apartment while he attended the university and worked under Doctor Gaul planning for the next Games.

She is a Victor and though perhaps that should mean something, it has become clear that it doesn’t. Though people watched her Games, though she made an impression, the memories of those in the Capitol are fleeting. No Victor is remembered following their Games. They are congratulated for their victory and sent home on the first train, never to be seen or heard from again. They fade from the public eye quickly, forgotten before the next moon, and perhaps she would have been as well had she not caught Coriolanus’s attention. Had he not been her mentor, so enamoured with her that he would cheat to save her.

She blames herself just as much as she blame him. Curses herself for not being able to see behind that perfectly curated mask he presents to everyone who looks at him, for being distracted by his pretty blonde curls and handsome face. Had he been ugly or cruel or anything other than deceptively kind, perhaps she could have escaped all this unscathed. Gone back home to Twelve without having him falling behind her like some forgotten shadow. Even if she had lost the Games, at least then she would be free of him. But instead she had been little more than a moth drawn to a flame, her wings now singed and leaving her an easy meal to the predator who first spotted her.

Read the full story here

#Coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #Coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #Coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas fic #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow

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kamaluhkhan · 19 days

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GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins like tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city.

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over.

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade.

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him.

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted.

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time.

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off.

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior.

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?”

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.”

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch.

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities.

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world.

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —”

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips.

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?”

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth?

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink.

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done.

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too.

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

“yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too.

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside.

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too.

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears.

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies.

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories.

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?”

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you.

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking.

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together.

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again.

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army.

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts.

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back.

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth.

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before.

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl.

luke blushes.

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you.

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you.

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really.

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules.

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further.

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.” with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care.

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him.

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind.

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind.

he’ll happily yield his power to you.

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you.

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue.

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt.

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit.

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you.

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist.

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines.

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin.

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

#we've only got two sins left idk how this happened....#thank y'all sm for reading!!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan series #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #pjo fanfic #saf writes

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