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ohbother2 · 2 months

Note

Hi! I don't know if you write for Adam, but this man has me in an unholy choke hold and I've literally read through all the Adam fics on this site already. I am begging, on my hands and knees, for you to please write an Adam x female reader smut oneshot. Literally anything you want.

I absolutely loved your Lucifer close proximity fic btw!! You're writing is literally insane and I just know you'd do Adam's character justice!

Thank youuuu

Thank you!! Sorry this is coming out so long after you sent it in, but hope you guys enjoy!

Also to other ppl reading this! I've seen your lovely messages in my inbox and I 100% intend on responding to them I'm just swamped with Uni work at the moment. But thank you all so much!!

This is literally pure smut btw, minors DNI!! Adam is very Adam in this. Lmk what you guys think I love to hear your thoughts! Especially because Adam is so hard to write!

Tag list - @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

Adam x f!reader - After a Shitty Meeting with the Blond Short-Stack

To put it bluntly, Adam had had a particularly shitty day, and that was saying a lot considering there were absolutely no bad days in heaven. This day, however, had seemed to drag on for an eternity, and by the end of it he felt like punching a whole through every window that he walked past on his way home from work, having to walk instead of fly because he was too furious to trust his wings not to give out on him if he became too lost in thought.

To summarise, he had had to meet Lucifer today, the pompous, prideful, wife-stealing piece of short-blonde-shit that lorded about Hell as if he wasn’t banished there purposefully for his sins. The meeting wasn’t in person, with him attending from Heaven and Lucifer attending from Hell, but simply being within any sort of presence of the blond gnome had his blood boiling and his fingers itching to grab the nearest weapon and shove it through his chest. And today, well, Lucifer had gone too far.

Sure, Adam may have started it with some comment about Lucifer’s daughters failing redemption-business, and how the timer was ticking until the upcoming extermination, but really, who was Lucifer to dare let your name spill from his lips? In a mockery of your and Adam’s relationship no less.

That self-entitled little shit-eating smirk had graced Lucifer’s ridiculously rosy cheeks, and he had dared insinuate he could steal you right from under Adam’s nose the next time you went down to Hell, just like his two previous wives. He was thankful for his mask which had concealed the utter shock-horror that had overtaken his features at the insult, but he also wished Lucifer would have seen his absolute unbridled hatred once he had rebounded from the insult: if looks could have killed, Lucifer would have been incinerated on the spot. The comment had riled Adam up so much that Lute had had to step in to steer the meeting back on track, and it had taken all of his self-control, and Lute’s, to stop him from immediately teleporting down to Hell and blasting Lucifer to whatever the fuck came after Hell. He grumbles to himself angrily, hand rubbing at his temples as he finally reaches his front door. God, he just wanted to have a drink and go to bed, where hopefully he would dream about murdering Lucifer and lording it up with you above his grave. Maybe you guys could make out right next to his grave, that would really prove a point.

He slams the front door shut harsher than he should have, and immediately storms through the house, desperate to just see you in one of the rooms – he’d even break into the bathroom even if you were mid-shit if he had to, he just had to see you.

“Babe?” He calls, wings tucked tightly against his back as he prowls the corridor, poking his masked head into each room he came across, finally relaxing when he saw you relaxing with a book curled up in the loveseat in the living room.

“Adam!” You grin over at him, and the tension in his shoulders shifts at the sight, releasing a tight breath as you perk up as he approaches, tucking your bookmark back into place and waiting for him expectantly. Of course you would be here, he reprimands himself, furious that Lucifer could get to him in such a way; where else would you be? “How was your day? You had that meeting right? Did it go well?” You rapid-fire your questions, and you suddenly frown as he approaches. “You’ve still got your mask on, it didn’t go well.”

“Yes, hello sugar, it’s nice to see you too, damn.” He mutters, frustrated at himself for being so easy to read, and frustrated at you for reading him so easily, finally coming to a stop before you. “Can’t a man just wear his cool-ass mask? I just forgot, okay?”

“You can do anything you please, I’m just worried.” You look up at him sympathetically, and he immediately knew his tough-guy act was immediately lost on you. Who was he kidding? Today had been particularly shit, and he just wanted to be with you. Not to ease his worries, no, no, he was secure in his relationship, confident in his charm (he was fucking Adam, who could compare?) but just… because he wanted to be with you.

He wasn’t even convincing himself.

“Want to talk about it?” You ask softly, watching as he tugs the mask from his face and places it against the coffee table. His hair was a mess, and you could see the way his brows pinched into a light frown as he attempted to hide his frustration.

“Fuck no.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, the meeting went shitty. That pompous little prick-“ He cuts himself off, pursing his lips lightly as he stares down at you. He didn’t want to tell you what Lucifer had said. He knew you wouldn’t suddenly act on what he had said, but still, he daren’t even breathe the possibility into existence. “I just want to be home, with you.”

“I think I can help with that.” You grin, shuffling over on the love seat and staring up at him expectantly, an absolutely lovely smile on your rosy lips.

"What would I do without you?" Adam questions, sitting down next to you heavily and leaning in for a proper kiss. One of his large hands falls to your waist as he leans in closer, your back leaning against the arm of the armrest as he approaches, slender fingers weaving into the locks at the nape of his neck to hold him closer. He pulls away for a moment, pressing heavy kisses against your jawline, eyes closed to the world and enjoying the feeling of your fingertips against the nape of his neck.

"Is there anything else I could help with?" You utter softly, head tilting back to expose your neck. A sudden grin takes over your features. You were about to play with fire, but you couldn't help yourself. "Perhaps give Lucifer a talking to?"

"Why," he growls, pressing one last kiss beneath your ear before he pulls back, both hands falling to your twisted hips. "would you mention that old fucks name when I have my lips against you."

"Just trying to help." You bats your eyelashes playfully, a laugh escaping you at his furrowed expression.

"I seem to recall you saying 'anything I please' not only five minutes ago." He leans closer, a hand grasping the armrest you leant against, caging you in with a devilish grin. "This is how you can help. Distract me."

"Adam!" You mock, palms sliding up his biceps and resting against his chest as you lean further back, further from his lips. His eyes narrow in frustration. "I fear you have misunderstood-"

"You know exactly what you were doing, babe."

A flash of pearly white teeth as you laugh again, fingers pulling at his lapels to drag him closer. "I'm afraid I don't."

His lips cover yours as a hand slides beneath you, a hand grasping firmly at your ass as he sucks all air from your lungs, a moan rewarding his efforts. Adam moans as a hand tugs at his locks, pulling your waist closer as he bores down, a knee sliding up your skirt and forcing your legs to part, falling freely without encouragement. Your red silk skirt bunches up around your waist, guided by his hands to expose your milky thighs to the cool air. You gasp against him.

"You going to be good for me?" He mumbles against your lips, large hands guiding your hips, thigh rubbing at your heat through the thin layer of your underwear. "You going to be a good girl and distract me?"

You hum in response, vocalising your pleasure as his tongue slides into your mouth, not even bothering to put up a fight as Adam hungrily licks into your mouth, grip forcing your hips to shift against his own as you grasp at his biceps.

"You’re such a fucking tease." He moans between kisses to your skin, hands tugging fabric from your collarbone as he kisses lower. "If I wasn’t as generous, I’d make you do all the work tonight." He presses another deep kiss to your lips, caging you between his arms and nestling between your parted thighs. "Lucky for you I’m fucking pissed."

"Adam." You groan quietly, eyes fluttering as he licks his way down the column of your throat, teeth grazing your hot skin as he yanks your top down your shoulders. He doesn’t bother unhooking your bra, splitting it down the middle with a grin and ignoring your complaints with a harsh bite into the skin of your breast. Adam grins against your reddening skin as his free hand comes up to grip your other breast, rolling the bud tightly between his fingers as he sucks and bites around the swell of your breast. He groans at the feeling of your hands gripping his broad shoulders, fingers edging closer and closer to his wings, hips rolling forward and cock twitching in his garments. He delves forward, warm mouth wrapping around a pert nipple without warning, Adam pays you no mind when you gasp at a particularly hard nip, suckling hungrily as his left-hand travels lower to press your hips up and against him. Your head lolls back as he groans around your bud, thrusting his hips against your clothed core. He continues, on and on, until the pained groans turn into pleasured whines, your thighs quivering around his hips and hands carding through his locks.

He pulls away for air, pressing sloppy kisses along the wet skin at your chest. "Look at you, I’ve not even touched you and you’re whining like a bitch." He groans, pressing a kiss to the swollen nipple pinched between his fingers. "I know I’m good, but this is pitiful babe. Fucking desperate.”

You had half a mind to remind him that he was the one that had stormed into your living room and practically demanded you attention after a shitty day, but with his mouth against you and hands gripping your thighs like his life depended on it, you were happy to remain silent, breathing airily as he sucked harshly at your skin.

“I’d be a pretty shitty husband if I just left my wife like this, huh?"

“Adam-“ You go to warn at his mockingly coy tone, him having played this hard-to-get game before and leaving you wanting until it was actually you desperate for his touch, and not the other way around. This time, however, he didn’t have the patience for such games, your voice dying with a hitch of breath as he latches onto your other nipple, free hand travelling beneath your skirt to the damp spot growing against your underwear. He circles the damp fabric, feather-light and teasing, not yet touching the place you craved the most.

"Adam, baby," You breath heavily, chest heaving as he continues to lavish a pert nipple with his tongue, hands tugging at his robe and sliding down the smooth skin of his chest. "Adam, please."

With a harsh nip he unlatches from your chest, peering down at you with dark eyes, the gold barely glinting in the dim light of the room, breathing heavy. A smirk tugs at his lips, brunet locks falling in front of his eyes as you continue to work yourself against his thigh, wide eyes shining and whining pathetically.

"Please, what?" He shifts, clothed cock pressing harshly against your groin, rutting once, twice. "Fuck you? Make you feel good? Feel better than anyone else ever could?” He rolls his hips again, you whimper. "Or, please stop? Leave you in this state? Return to my duties?"

"No, no- please," your breath hitches as he bites at the soft mound of flesh below your right nipple, a trail of red and purple left behind as he nips lower. "Please, fuck me." Your hands finally dig into his wings, close to where they joined at his back, fingertips digging into the feathers and tugging lightly. You can feel the way his hands tighten either side of your ribcage, and you can see the way his pupils dilate as a red hue creeps up his neck and flushes the skin of his cheeks.

"Fuck," he moans, cock twitching in his breaches. His thumbs dig into your abdomen as his hands clench against your hips, stopping you from moving against him. God, this was exactly what he needed after this shitty day. You must have been some sort of Saint in disguise. "You fucking tease, fucking hands in my-“ He has to stop when you tug again, and he glowers down at you as your nails scratch their way down the centre of his golden wings, the tips twitching as he tries to remain in control.

“Oh yeah, baby? That's how you want to do this?" His voice had deepened to the familiar gravelling husk that you loved so dearly, and you can do nothing but nod fervently, the sound going straight to your core. You knew exactly what you were doing toying with his wings, and he knew just as well as you what that meant. Adam takes in the sight before him; the heaving chest, the perfect slender column of your exposed throat, the exposed milky-white of your spread thighs, the wide glossy eyes just pleading for him to move. He breathes deeply at the way your skirt bunches around your waist, your whole body on show except from a pathetic soaking pair of underwear. "Fucking perfect."

A rough hand suddenly against your throat has you falling boneless against the armrest, eyes rolling as Adam’s fist tightens, his wings twitching upwards as your hands fall to noncommittally pry at his fingers around your neck.

"Hng, please-" You rasp, spreading your legs as far as the backrest of the loveseat would allow, hands clenching into the fabric of the sofa beneath you.

"You'll get fucked," Adam whispers harshly against your ear, free hand sliding your ruined pants down your thighs. "but not until I'm done with you."

"Adam-"

"It’s been a fucking shitty day," he begins, a singular finger sliding between your folds and gathering the wetness that had gathered. You whine, straining against his hold on your neck. "and the one thing that’s gotten me through it is knowing I get to come home to this perfect piece of ass." He grins, feeling your pussy clench at the tip of his finger. "So I’m taking my fucking time with you."

A singular finger finally enters your swollen, aching, core, mouth falling open in a silent moan at the contact, finally. The sounds that echo around the room are obscene, wet and thick as his fingers curl, digging against that sweet spot inside of you.

"You hear that, sweety?" Adam murmurs mockingly against your lips, the pet-name dripping with irony as he kisses down harshly, a kiss you could only hope to keep pace with, never mind reciprocate. "You fucking filthy girl." A second enters, easily, coated in your slick within seconds as he draws moans from your lungs. He leans back, watching you flush and gasp beneath his hands, fingers pulling non-comically at the fist he had around your neck. A third finger enters, and this time, he feels the stretch.

"God, Adam-" You squeal, hips raising from the loveseat as he continues, the sinful sounds only getting louder and louder. You moan with every thrust of his fingers, hands gripping at the material of your shirts beneath you. You groans at the fiery pain in your walls, but your eyes roll at the pleasure that had started to build.

"So fucking wet, and all it took was the thought of being with me. At least you know how lucky you are babe, fuck-" His grip tightens around your neck, a fourth finger entering, and you scream, or would have if you had the oxygen to. A pathetic choking wail comes from your throat, and you clench tighter around his digits, hips chasing his hand with every thrust.

"I'm- I'm going to-" You sob as he picks up his pace, the sounds omitting from you downright sinful. Your thighs shake as your body goes rigid, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Adam doesn't stop, eyes trained on his wife's face as you come undone beneath his fingers, hips jerking wildly as he thrusts and curls inside of you. It is only when your eyes flutter and legs fall slack that he stops, pulling his hand out from between your thighs with a sickening pop, fluid coating his hand and your inner thighs.

You blink heavily, gasping for breath as you finally return to your surroundings, feeling devastatingly empty but more than satisfied. Adam barely gives you a moment before he’s kissing you deeply, teeth tugging at your swollen lips and a hand winding into your hair to tug your head exactly where he wanted you. He doesn’t break the kiss as he scoops you into his arms, your hands grasp at his neck and shoulders as he carries you towards the bedroom.

He throws you down roughly on the edge of the side of the bed, shucking off his robe, trousers and pants quickly, hard and weeping cock springing free, red and painful at the neglect, balls heavy and painfully sensitive. You wiggle out of your red skirt, kicking it onto the floor as Adam clambers over you, knees pressed against the mattress. He slides his hand along your inner thighs, which part without question, gathering the wetness that coated them. He pumps his cock lazily, once, twice, abs clenching as he breathes deeply.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget that cunts name.” He mutters more to himself, and it takes you a moment to realise who he was talking about. Ah, he hadn’t taken your comment about Lucifer earlier well. He never did. You can’t help but feel excited, as exhausted as you already were, Adam always got so competitive after a comment like that, and you always left the situation just as smug and satisfied as Adam felt. “Hope you haven’t got any important shit tomorrow, babe,” He comments, leaning over you and shrouding your smaller form with his large body, grinning down at you with a wickedness better suited to hell than heaven. “because it’ll be a miracle if you can walk.”

"You’re talking an awful lot." You comment, but your panting doesn’t give it the mocking you were hoping for. His wings flatten when your comment registers, and the golden feathers bristle as you continue. “You’ve yet to actually fuck me, I wonder if Lu-“

Without warning he thrusts forward, groaning hotly against your throat as his wings raise. You whine at the stretch, and your hands quickly burrow back into his wings as he bullies his way into you, forcing himself down to the hilt and not allowing you time to adjust. “Don’t you fucking dare say his name.” He hisses against your throat, biting at the skin harshly. He draws back, tip resting just inside your opening, and then surges forward, burying himself to the hilt, setting a brutal, staggering pace. You whimper in pain and pleasure at the abrupt pace, but fall into it as he thrusts, legs winding around his hips and anchoring him in place.

Adam groans into your skin with every thrust, unabashed and unashamed, the wet warmth between your thighs melting away his worries. His fingers dig painfully into the divots of your hips.

"You're my girl, no one else’s, my fucking girl." He groans, balls slapping against your ass as he thrusts, seizing your thighs and pushing them up towards your chest, folding you in half and giving you no choice but to breath and take it. "Clearly I’ve not been doing my job if you’ve had time to think about him, don't worry baby, I'll fix that."

"Adam," You moan at the new angle, his cock hitting that special spot inside with every thrust, legs shaking with every thrust. "please, please, please, I don’t-"

"Fucking slut, begging for my cock." He punctuates his sentence with a particularly hard thrust that has you keening, back arching from the crumpled bedsheets.

Suddenly, without warning, he pulls out completely and your high dissipates violently as you gasp and shoot upright, trying to tug him back down by his wings. "No, no, please-"

Large rough hands grab at your body as you are flipped around, hands scrambling for purchase and legs like jelly as you’re repositioned, locks falling into your face as Adam thrusts back in, hands gripping your hips as he pounds.

"You wanna act like a slut?" He drills his cock into you from behind, large hand pushing at your tail bone to force your back to arch. You comply easily, and you’re rewarded with a fist grabbing at the globe of your ass and slamming you back towards him with painful force. "I'll fuck you like a slut."

A tender hand runs up the column of your spine and you shiver, gasping into a moan as he gathers your hair in one tight fist and yanks.

"Oh! Oh Adam-"

Every slap of your ass with his hips has your head lurching back with the grip he has on your hair, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he thrusts, the harsh sound of slapping skin filling the room.

"Adam, ‘s too much," Your moans cut your sentence short, fists gripping the bed sheets as he pounds relentlessly, scalp stinging and pussy aching at the unforgiving stretch. "Please, I can't-"

"You fucking can." He growls, releasing your hair and shoving your head forward with a hand at the back of your neck, leaning forward to place wet kisses at the centre of your spine as he thrusts down. "I’m not done with you, so you're gonna fucking take it."

You moan pathetically into the bed sheets, fingers curling into the fabric either side of your head as your pussy throbs, a familiar searing heat coiling in your abdomen and tingling along your spine.

"We’re not done until you get that you’re mine, my bitch, and no one else can give you this, understand?" His large hands anchor themselves at your waist as he thrusts impossibly harder, sweat beginning to bead down his chest and stomach. No doubt bruises would be left behind, the thought of your perfect flesh, your perfect ivory skin, marred by his fingerprints only drives him further, his balls beginning to tighten.

"I'm- I'm - wait!" Adam doesn't listen to his wife's pleas, supporting your shaking hips with his large hands as he fucks you into the mattress, grinning past his exertion at seeing your thighs begin to quiver.

Your cracked voice mewls into the bedsheets as your second orgasm builds, panting pathetically as you brace yourself, tears of pleasure beginning to stream down your cheeks.

"Good fucking girl." Adam groans, feeling his own orgasm build, cock twitching within your walls. "Does my bitch finally get it? Huh?” Your lack of response doesn’t please him, and one of his large hands slaps the globe of your ass painfully as he continues his brutal pace. ‘'you gonna take it?"

"Please!" You finally wail, pussy clenching at the sheer anger in his voice, and beneath all the brovado, the desperation to know he’s doing a good job. And by God he was doing a phenomenal job. "So fuckin’ good Adam. I’m yours- yours.” You choke into the mattress when you feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hips stuttering at the praise. “Don’t stop. Adam, please, please-"

You wail pathetically, second orgasm crashing over you as you convulses beneath Adam’s cock, toes curling, legs only propped up with his large hands as you cry. “So, f-fuck– good.”

"Fuck." Adam groans as his own orgasm hits, balls tightening as he thrusts again and again, jerking uncontrollably as he empties inside of you, pumping his hips desperately. You can feel the air around you shift as his wings twitch, flapping powerfully with the concentration he pours into his final few thrusts, impossibly deep and hard as his arms flex against your lax figure. "Ah." He grunts, thrusting once, twice, collapsing on top of his shaking wife, cock buried to the hilt. His sweaty forehead presses between your shoulder blades, breathing hotly against your damp skin as you breathes shakily beneath him, catching your own breath as the aftershocks of your orgasm course through you.

"Fuckin’ perfect." Adam mutters gruffly against your skin, kissing tenderly as he straightens, hands landing on the globe of your red ass, slowly pulling his cock from you with a hiss. He watches with dark eyes as his cum gathers at your entrance, pushing a small trickle back in with a slick finger, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Large hands, far gentler than they had been mere moments ago, grasp your waist and manoeuvre you around, laying your panting frame back onto the edge of the bed. Adam leans down to kiss you sweetly, rough hands grabbing a thigh each and pulling them up towards your chest as he leans, tongue slipping into your mouth and licking into your cavern as he repositions, a soft sigh falling from your lips and your hands dangling leisurely from his broad shoulders.

He pulls back from the kiss, and you watch him with hooded eyes, unaware of the position you had found herself in until a thick cock-head presses at your weeping entrance once again. You look up, still panting, and Adam cannot help but feel utterly devoted to the sight in front of him, cock twitching back to full capacity; your cheeks shining from the tears that had spilled, lips puckered and swollen and invitingly red from the way he had nipped at them, the smattering of bruises that decorated your neck and chest. You were truly a vision, not a holy one, but absolutely divine to him.

"Adam, wait - I can't." You whimper breathily, hips pulling away from his cock. Too sensitive, too raw. Despite your reservations, Adam can see the way you breathe in suspense, the way your fingers flex against the bedsheets in anticipation. Hell, you weren’t even trying to close your legs in his grasp. You really shouldn’t have mentioned Lucifer’s name if you didn’t want this. He was nowhere near done.

"No?" He questions sarcastically, hands still pinning your thighs to your chest, golden eyes staring deeply into your own. "Looks to me like you can still talk back, that won’t do babe." Hands still grasping your milky thighs, Adam leans down, grinning before pressing a soft kiss right against your clit. You jerk, a cry falling from your lips. "Come on, sugar, you’re really tapping out so soon?" He rubs his cock against your folds, his cum coating his own flared tip, and your pussy flutters around him; you hiss out a whine. "What a shitty husband I’d be if I left you wanting, and from the look of you, I know you’re not done." He rubs his cock against you again, balls gathering the cum that had dribbled from your opening. You look up at him fervently, and you can see the determination in his heated gaze, and oh how that look had your core tightening as he leant impossibly closer. "Is my wife really done? I think she can take one more, one more, for me."

You groan as he enters again, slowly, cock dragging against your slicked walls, and a squelch emitting from your conjoined bodies as he finally bottoms out again. Your legs twitch in his hold, and he grinds his hips, fighting the urge to thrust.

Your mouth hangs open silently, eyes fluttering at the stretch to your over-sensitive core. Your nails tear at his shoulders uselessly, trying to distract yourself from the all-consuming pleasure, and the delightful sting has Adam clenching his jaw as he tries to remain composed. You can hear the shuddering breath he takes as he fights his instincts, pulling back just as slowly as he had entered, until the weight of his cock presses just inside your opening, and then thrusts back in, setting a slow, steady, hard pace.

He recaptures your lips in a searing kiss, biting at your lip until you allow him to snake his way inside, sucking the little air from your lungs as he pants into you, brows furrowed in concentration as he fucks into you with his hips and licks into your mouth hungrily. This time, he allows your hands to dig into his wings from the start, his own hands remaining perched on your thighs and pinning you down to take his harsh thrusts. He grunts when your fingertips delve back into the ruffled feathers, stretching them out beneath your touch and covering your body possessively beneath his larger frame.

"S-Shit babe.” He groans between thrusts, pace increasing silently. You can do nothing but moan pathetically, pussy aching and throbbing as your fingers dig deeper into his wings, and his shoulders tense at the intense pleasure that sparks all along his spine. "Fucking careful.” He tries to battle back his control that had begun to slip, and decides insulting you would mask the way your simplest of touches nearly had him finishing then and there. “F-fucking whore."

You simply groan, eyes rolled into the back of your head and hands blinding searching for purchase as that tight coil begins to wind in your abdomen, hips beginning to shift against his quickening thrusts. Your voice pitches and cracks as he pummels that special spot inside of you, and your hands clench into fists in his wings. "Oh God- Adam, right there, fuck – so fucking good."

“I know baby, I’m fucking good, I know.” He grits through clenched teeth, ever the egoist. Despite his parroting of the compliments as if they were simple facts, the compliments go straight to his head and his cock, and something in his chest tightens at the way you continue to babble his praises.

A particularly hard thrust has you gasping. "Adam, you’re so- so-" You couldn’t finish the sentence, but he got the message, and nearly cums with his next thrust, biting into your collarbone to distract himself from the praise.

Adam groans, balls already beginning to tighten. He yanks you closer as you continue to beg, forcing you in half as he pounds into you, cum spilling from around his cock as he thrusts again and again, your thighs slick with it.

"Adam, please." You pant, all air forced from your lungs as he drills into you over and over again, pussy struggling as Adam’s cum is forced from inside you to make room for his cock. "I'm all yours."

"Fuck, baby." He groans, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. He releases your right thigh, free thumb pressing into your swollen clit and rubbing hard. "Cum for me, I know you've got one more. One more and I'll fucking fill you, one more."

You shriek at the pressure on your clit, head thrown back as your legs shake. Chanting 'yes, yes, Adam, fuck.' between wails.

"You can take it, 'fuckin' take it."

He swallows your scream with a kiss when you finally tip over the edge, your hips shaking against his own as your stomach erupts in a fiery jolt of pleasure that travels from the tips of your toes to your fingertips, back arching from the bedsheets. Adam swears against your lips, nails almost breaking the skin of your thighs as he cums, shoulders and wings tense as he humps tightly, burying himself to the hilt and pressing as much of his weight onto you as he could.

"Fuck, there you go." He groans, thrusting lazily, pressing you into the bedsheets, all of his weight forced onto your hips. "There you go."

You moan pitifully as his cock fully burrows itself to its hilt, both hands coming up to cradle the back of Adam’s head and shoulders as he allows his full weight to rest on top of you, face pressed against the crook of your neck, soft lips gently mouthing against a blossoming hickey, hips finally ceasing their aborted thrusts. You wrap your legs loosely around his hips as his hands curl beneath you, resting flat against your spine and securing you in his embrace. You sigh at the new angle, finally able to breath fully, and relaxes into the sticky sheets below, allowing Adam to lick at the bruises covering your neck and chest.

"You okay, baby?" Adam mutters softly, voice still unusually deep and gravelly as he comes down from his high, warm palms sliding against your sticky skin in some semblance of comfort, blunt nails scratching a light comforting pattern against your skin. He lifts himself up lightly, still burrowed within, sweaty brunet locks falling across his face and tickling your forehead.

"Never better." You grin, exhausted and blissed-out, a familiar ache beginning to settle deep within, but uncaring for the discomfort after seeing the poorly-masked worried devotion in your husband's eyes. "You’re amazing, you know."

"I know.” He hums cockily, and you swat at his arm playfully as he grins. “I supposed you aren’t half bad, too.”

Your head tilts in mock-offence, but the exhaustion and complete and utter satisfaction cloaking your eyes has you looking seconds away from passing out, and he chuckles at the sight. He studies you for a moment, mapping the flush to your cheeks and chest, the fraying of your elegant hairdo, the wet streams on your cheeks and the puffiness of your lips. His eyes travel lower, following a stream of bruises that caress your ivory skin all the way down to where your bodies conjoin. His eyes flicker back up and he grins cheekily, unapologetic and somewhat proud.

With a comforting pat to your thighs, Adam leans down for a far more tender kiss, grunting against you as he removes himself from you, dick falling free as he clambers up the bed and carefully tugs your spent body along with him, nestling you tightly into his side as his wings drape off both edges of the bed. He grunts, tugging you further onto his chest, and you giggle as you swing your arms around his chest and neck, cheek pressed against his shoulder and his own pressed against the top of your head, strong arms encircling your waist and pinning you close.

“I should rant to you more about my shitty days if you’re willing to cheer me up like this.” He grumbles to himself, eyes closed as he breathes deeply, and you feel the rumble of his chest beneath you. “I can feel you looking at me. Shut your mouth and enjoy the moment unless you want to piss me off again.”

“I didn’t even piss you off in the first place,“ You defend, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “but if you fuck me like that when you’re angry I’ll have to get you angry more often.”

“You want to go again?” Adam questions deftly, the exhausted surprise yet underlying giddiness in his voice almost making you laugh, if not for the fact that you were utterly and completely spent.

“No, no, I’m more than happy. I was going to say we should shower.”

He ‘humphs’ like a child, heavy arms not moving as you try to wriggle away from his grasp to begin running the shower. “What’s the rush? Give me ten minutes.”

“We’re disgusting.”

“Five minutes.” He mutters, rightening his hold on your waist. “You never know, in those five minutes you might want to go again, and then we’d save having to wash ourselves again, save the water bill and all that shit, y’know?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You married me.” He backhands childishly, pulling you in closer to his chest. “So that we can be disgusting together. Now shush and stop talking, I was enjoying the moment.”

2K notes · View notes

essentiallyleaf · 7 months

Text

day 07. public sex. with. soojin, zoa.

2388 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x idol x male reader, reader has the tiniest hint of rizz, but is still a loser at heart, public sex, double blowjob, standing doggy, pussy eating, fingering, stand & carry, 1mg of rimming, very smut heavy, basically unedited, complete mess.

notes.

horny + tired sounds like a recipe for terrible writing. and i don’t really know if it is, since i basically haven’t read this back :] generically, leaf.

“I need this now” and “Take me here” might be the exact and only two sentences that could get you to do anything, anytime, anywhere. But that’s a hypothetical, and despite the inhibition of three Manhattans and a couple beers, castles in the sky crumble when you hear those exact words come out of those two’s sweetly curled and devilishly full and luscious lips in the middle of the dance floor.

You didn’t really know them that well. They go to the stationery shop you work at fairly frequently (every other Friday between 3 and 5 p.m., they usually hover around the notebook and colored pens sections, try a bunch of them out - like, sooo many, can they not recite the entire color palette by heart yet? - while laughing you can’t really tell at what, then come to the checkout with about exactly one sharpie and two big smiles, and then leave. What? No, you don’t remember them particularly more than any other customer. Why would you?), but you’d never really talked. That’s why you’re surprised when they approach you on a random Saturday night at the club, talking about which their favorite drinks solely based on color are and how, if bonsai are a thing, there must be a way to make humans exist in tiny, and what if they’re out there now, going around untying shoelaces and stealing any small item that falls to the ground? They don’t look drunk, they look happy, which is a different thing. Aren’t they just talking about gnomes, anyway (which, by the way, definitely exist)?

It’s not how they wear those good girl smiles a second before sandwiching you while dancing, their bodies pressed against yours. Soojin from behind, pawing at your pecs and slowly kissing your neck up to the back of your ear, Hyewon in front of you but facing away, her ass literally rubbing against your now visible erection while she takes your hands and moves them from her hips, to her exposed belly, up to her boobs.

It’s not how she turns her head to kiss you and that smile is still there, like she’s playing a game, like this is just harmless fun between friends. Yeah, friends, you think, until the deer eyed girl turns around to face the two of you, her hands reaching around you and landing on Soojin’s ass and switches from your mouth to hers. What made you think they were just friends again? You’d think of an answer, but you’re distracted by the older girl’s hand venture lower towards your dick, which she starts stroking through your pants.

It’s not even how the three of you (and you in particular) now look like a complete mess right in the middle of the club, your bodies rubbing on each other’s in feral hunger, your tongues entangling with burning lust. It’s really not that.

It’s how pairs of eyes turn towards that filthy scene. Initially just a couple passing peeks, then a few more, longer gazes, mixing aversion with slight arousal, until the whole club is aware of the tonguing, the groping and the humping. And while some of them walk away, the people who stay seem turned on by the scene, as if intoxicated by the scent of your libido.

It really should just be embarrassing for you. And at the start, it was. To be left open-mouthed in front of a live audience like a comically fat dead trout in a fishing contest while two, admittedly gorgeous, girls alternately brush, squeeze and hump your dick wasn’t exactly your proudest moment. But somehow, that embarrassment coexisted with a sense of excitement. And as the two keep making a toy for their pleasure out of you, the latter only grows stronger and ends up completely overpowering the former.

That’s why when Soojin asks “Wanna go to the bathroom?”, the only possible answer is “Why not here~?”

“There’s not enough space”

The crowd was in fact big and quite cramped around the three of you. You are left without choice as she takes you and Hyewon by the arm and leads you towards a small black door right by the bar.

The girls throw you into the wall and kneel in front of you before the door even closes. Four hands take your belt off, or rather attempt to for a while before getting it (it probably would have been easier if only one person did it, but you don’t dare suggest it), then pull your pants and your boxers down. You can still hear clearly not only the music, but every scream coming from the room you were just in (these walls suck, even for club bathroom standards).

Your cock, already erect thanks to the scene you three made back there, falls right in the middle of their expecting faces, and all they have to do is stretch their necks a little further to start sprinkling it with wet kisses and short licks and already causing you to shed some precum. They more or less intentionally happen to move towards your base and take a longer lick up to the tip of your dick, where they collect your nectar and meet in a French kiss. Actually, that’s not even a kiss, more like their tongues messily exchanging three people’s fluids while completely outside either’s mouths, and it looks fucking filthy.

Soojin is the first to wrap her lips around your head and start slowly but steadily bobbing, taking a slightly larger portion of you in her mouth each time. Hyewon, leaving no time wasted, travels further towards your balls, first getting them wet with her saliva, then alternatively taking one in her mouth and sucking it hungrily, seemingly having the time of her life. The older girl, despite the small size of her mouth, fits almost three quarters of your length in her cavern, even managing to keep herself there and brush the underside of your cock while sucking.

“Unnie, leave some for me!”

Soojin makes way for her friend/tongue buddy, who seems immediately much more feisty, though likely less experienced, sacrificing technique for power and a much faster pace. The older gathers Hyewon’s hair together in a makeshift ponytail and starts licking from her jaw and cheek to around her ear, while the younger, gifted with a bigger mouth, is basically already deepthroating you. You hold your hands around her head and push the last bit in, her eyes watering a little as you hold position for a good fifteen seconds. And, cut.

“You okay?”

“Fuck, that was fun!”

This deer eyed slut just deepthroated you without you batting an eye (well, you were quite lost in pleasure yourself, your eyes quite literally rolling to the back of your hair, but you know), and you’re surprised that she swears?

People could literally step into the bathroom at any point, but honestly, the thought is not even passing your mind. Actually, some might have even walked beside you while you were filling their mouths with your hardness, it’s honestly just too hard to pay attention to anything else, with these two. That’s why you can’t even fathom worrying about the rest of the people in the club, even with what happens next.

Soojin drops her jeans along with her light blue panties and sits on the long counter that connects all the sinks together, running along the entire length of the bathroom below the mirror, while Hyewon bends over in front of her, glancing at the other girl with a playful smile before feasting on her gorgeous pink pussy. You only need to get behind her, bunch her white tennis skirt up on her waist and pull her black panties down and to the floor. Her lips are fat, her slit clean and shiny. You look back at her underwear, and notice a wet patch in the center, not particularly small, either.

“Did you cum just by humping me back there?”

“Maybee~”

You hold your tongue out and take one long lick across her womanhood as she lets a moan out and into the older girl’s crotch. Her sweet scent, her soft texture, her perfect taste are- fuck it, you need your dick in that pussy. So stand up again, align yourself to her, and push it in.

Hyewon is tight, but even moreso, she’s warm. Her hole welcomes you like that’s all she was waiting for all night, like you’re her guest and she wants to make sure you know she prepared. And as you slowly thrust into her, making sure to use your hips to hit every little spot, every patch of her pussy, she lets a constant stream of guttural groans into the one she’s eating herself. Soojin can’t help but push the younger’s face into her crotch, stimulated not only by her tongue, taking trips now on her lips, now in her slit, now on top of her pink clit, but also by the vibrations of her lewd sounds, resonating in her cavern and expanding all over her body.

As you grip the girl’s asscheeks tightly, you start picking up the pace, but she immediately reaches a hand behind her and on your wrist. You slow down again, and her whimpers tell you that this is the rhythm she wants you to hold. In fact, her lower abdomen starts tensing up as a sign that her peak is near. She wants something else. She detaches from the older’s pussy, leaving her disappointed and cutely pouting, and takes small quick steps forward towards the counter, until her face is almost reaching the Soojin’s. She then zips her white top fully down. The older, in a better position to take care of it, gets the hint and rids herself of her top as well as her white strapless bra, leaving them beside one of the sinks. Hyewon takes a millisecond after that to attack her friend’s perfectly sized soft tits with her mouth and left hand, and her hole with her right.

The older is completely thrown off by the sudden initiative and the resulting pleasure it brings to her erogenous zones, and she starts moaning uncontrollably. The younger can’t hold it much longer. Her mouth leaves her friend’s boobs to meet her lips in another tongue filled spectacle. Two fingers from her right hand slide in and out of Soojin’s slit, while her thumb circles around her clit. The older’s also so close. But you’re the one who will make the final move.

You bend down towards Hyewon’s body, reach around and under her black one-shoulder top to feel and fondle her big fluffy mounds as you keep pumping your girth into her, and that ends her.

She washes your cock with the whirlwind of her juices while she contracts repeatedly around you and releases the lowest moan of the night. That in turn triggers her friend’s peak, in her case the liquid sprays on the younger’s hand and wrist and her hips buckle as she reaches to the mirror behind her for support.

Hyewon falls to her knees. Both girls are panting for oxygen, but the one you just fucked seems particularly spent from it.

“You good?”

She nods, and shows you her index finger: “One second”

You turn your head back up.

“Can you do it?”

“Can you~?”

This bitch. You step closer to the counter and wrap your hands around the underside of Soojin’s milky, meaty thighs to spread them open even more. You share a glance with her, and she looks fucking obscene. Her hair has lost its parting, her forehead covered in sweat. That lower lip always just kind of hanging there, like she needs something to fill her mouth at all times. So you kiss her hungrily, and she lets your tongue in her mouth like she’s craving it, like she’s begging for it.

Meanwhile, you guide your head to her slit and part it, slowly entering her cavern. She is so tight. She whines softly into your mouth as you get deeper and deeper. Once you’re fully in, you give her a second to get used to your girth.

“My neck. Your arms around my neck”

She obeys as you immediately raise her from the counter and carry her towards the center of the bathroom as you start pumping into her tight heaven.

Who fucking cares at this point, people could walk in on you and you would thank them. They’d love to have a cock big like yours, to have a girl as beautiful as yours, and to fuck the former into the latter like you’re doing right now. No. They’d just have to watch, like some pathetic frat boys peeping at an older girl they couldn’t even pray to get.

Your hands grab onto Soojin’s ass so you can bounce her pelvis on yours while pushing up, accentuating the movement, as she keeps kissing you like her life depends on it. You feel your orgasm building up.

Then, you feel something below you. Hyewon, revitalized after her orgasm, is now kneeling below you, open-mouth kissing your dick, your balls, her friend’s slit and, you guess, anything else she might find in the way. This girl can truly never be idle. Meanwhile, as you get closer and closer, you switch to quick, single, powerful thrusts. One. Two. And-

You feel Hyewon’s tongue brush your asshole. It’s a sensation you never felt before, it kind of tickles, but it almost stings, at the same time. What it surely does, is to make you cum on the spot. You fire multiple shots of white liquid into Soojin’s pussy, the sensation making her scream (they definitely heard this one outside) and triggering her waterfall a second time, and as only so much matter can fill such a tight space, all of her squirt and probably most of your cum end up dripping down and coating Hyewon’s face. Her mouth is promptly open, so she gets to taste your combined fluids.

She shuffles them around her cheeks for a while, then one big swallow.

“Yummy~”

“Fuck, Hyewon. Was that on purpose?”

“Huh?”

“Your tongue”

“Oh! Well, did you like iiit?”

“He fucking came as soon as you touched him! What do you think?”

“Well, let’s see if it happens a second time, then”

footnotes.

it’s 4am. god. finally, leaf.

558 notes · View notes

grandmother-goblin · 2 months

Text

Enough Time for Us - Part 1

AO3 - Masterlist

Summary: After surviving a daring rescue of several tieflings from Moonrise Towers, you realize just how short your time might be. Between the Absolute, the tadpoles, and the Shadow Curse, you don't want to waste a moment. Although Wyll had expressed his desires for an old-fashioned courtship, you're worried you won't be able to do everything you wanted with him before time runs out.

Relationships: Wyll x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Tags: Kissing, thigh-riding, dry-humping, a bit of navigating a new relationship.

“You should have seen them, Alfira!” Lakrissa said far too loudly. She clumsily set her empty goblet of wine down on the table you shared with her, Alfira, and Wyll. “You’re going to have to write a song about this. Maybe two. I don’t think all of their heroics could fit into just one.”

The light from the glowing hearth in the middle of Last Light Inn gave Lakrissa a mischievous glint to her eyes that told you everything you needed to know: she was trying to embarrass you.

Oh, you would get her back for this. You weren’t sure how, but you would.

Sure, you rescued Lakrissa (along with several other tieflings and some Ironhand gnomes) from the bowels of Moonrise Towers — but she didn’t need to sing your praises to everyone who would listen.

At first you thought she was just being sweet, if not overly appreciative. But now? Now you knew she was just messing with you.

Or she was just repeating herself because she was drunk. It really could have been either, considering that most certainly was not her first glass of wine.

Without taking her eyes off of Alfira, Lakrissa gestured to you grandly, like she was showing off a prized work of art. “That one there took down the Warden herself,” she said with faux reverence. “Knocked her right on her ass.”

You shook your head as heat rose to your face.

Even though Lakrissa was just having fun, you wished she would knock it off. Or at the very least, turn her attention to someone who was equally responsible for her rescue. Like Karlach, who was chatting away with Jaheira over a mug of ale alongside Lae’zel and Astarion. Or Gale, who also played a crucial role in the escape plan, was sitting at the bar with Rolan, Cal, and Lia — presumably thrilled to have a fellow wizard to converse with.

Perhaps she could gush about Wyll’s part in the Moonrise jailbreak. Out of everyone, he was the most accustomed to receiving all sorts of praise as the Blade of Frontiers.

But for better or for worse, Lakrissa’s attention was locked on to you. There wasn’t much you could do about it, so you decided it was easiest just to indulge her. At least a little bit.

Wyll’s slid closer to you on the bench you shared and wrapped his arm around your waist. “I’m sad that I missed that one,” he said, gently tucking you against his side. “After the way the Warden spoke to you, I wanted to get a few hits in myself.”

You hummed appreciatively, breathing in the scent of his cologne. It was something like amber and allspice, and so uniquely him that the smell alone filled you with warmth. “I still can’t believe you called her a bitch.”

Lakrissa choked down a mouthful of wine. “The Blade of Frontiers called the Warden a bitch?”

“Not to her face,” Wyll quickly corrected, holding his palm up as if to block the accusation. “Not that I wouldn’t have.”

“She still heard you,” you added.

Wyll took a drink from his mug of ale and innocently averted his gaze. “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

A giggle bubbled in your chest, but you swallowed it down with a smile. You snuggled closer to Wyll, letting your hand rest just above his knee as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

It had been over a week since you two had officially become a couple, yet could still hardly believe it.

Wyll Ravengard, the Blade of Frontiers, the son of a Grand Duke — all yours.

You had first kissed him at a party the tiefling refugees had thrown a few weeks ago. You would never forget the electricity that sparked between you the moment his lips brushed against yours. How your heart hammered in your chest or how his hands felt on your hips.

How you never wanted that moment to end.

But Wyll was a gentleman.

He kept things chaste despite how you had wanted to throw yourself at him like a heroine on the cover of a romantic novel.

Then there was the night he had asked you to dance with him. Everything had been so proper between you two in the time between your kiss and that night that his invitation honestly caught you off guard. You weren’t even quite sure what he was wanting out of the dance — just some friendly fun or something more?

But his intentions were made clear soon enough.

You could see the lust burning in his eye as you circled around each other. It was so intense, you could have melted under his gaze if he weren’t holding you steady.

When he pulled you in for a kiss, that heat turned from simmering embers to an inferno. A fire that burnt through Wyll’s restraint, turning his kisses from sweet to passionate and his touch from a gentle caress to a firm embrace.

Heat built in your core when his thigh had pushed between your legs. The subtle, almost imperceptible, roll of his hips and his hands tangling in your hair was enough to drive you mad.

He wanted you. You knew, at that very moment, he wanted more than just a dance and a goodnight kiss.

Yet, he still pulled away, smothering the flame.

All he had to do was say the word, and you would have been in his bed that night. He knew that just as well as you did. But he wanted to take things slower.

He wanted to court you properly. Like heroes in those old love stories with ballroom dances and flowers and poetry.

In ordinary circumstances, you would have let him take all the time in the world.

Good men like Wyll were extraordinarily hard to come by. Hells, you had been dreaming of a man like Wyll for years. A man who wanted you for you — not someone who just wanted a roll in the hay.

But your circumstances were far from ordinary.

Beneath the table, well out of view from the two tiefling women across from you, you let your hand coast further up Wyll’s thigh. Just a little bit too high to be considered decent, but not so much that you risked touching him anywhere truly inappropriate for a public setting.

If Wyll had any objections, he didn’t voice them.

In fact, you swore you saw a smirk tug on his lips.

Wyll’s hand slipped beneath the bottom hem of your shirt, the movement smooth as silk. His thumb drew slow, tantalizing circles on your hip as he continued to chat with Lakrissa and Alfira.

Gods, it almost felt unfair. He could turn you into a pile of mush with just a sweet word and simple touch. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was teasing you. Tempting you with all the little touches, but never going further.

You wanted him so badly, but you didn’t want to pressure him. He wanted the fairytale romance — he wanted to wait for the perfect moment and for everything to be just right.

But you couldn’t help but worry: what if that moment never came?

What if tomorrow was the day one of you fell to the Shadow Curse? Or to the Absolute? What if the Artefact’s protection wore out or if Vlaakith’s warriors found you?

What if you and Wyll never had that chance with the each other?

Maybe it was selfish, but you wanted to be more intimate with him. Gods, you dreamed of it. There were nights when you and Wyll would share a bedroll, sleeping in one another’s arms and fully clothed, and you ached for something more.

You just weren’t sure how to broach the topic with him. Not since he expressed his own desires regarding your relationship. A fairytale romance, like those told by the bards.

You wished he had been a little more specific about what his desires entailed, if you were being completely honest.

“Have we already finished another bottle?” Alfira’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as she picked up the empty bottle of wine from your side of the table. “Should we get another, or call it night?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lakrissa stood up and placed both hands on the table as she peered over Wyll’s horns. “Hey Mirkon,” she called toward the bar in the back of the room. “I’ll give you five silver to bring us another bottle of red.”

The small tiefling boy popped his head up over the lip of the countertop. “Just gave out the last bottle of red — gotta go to the cellar to get more. We got whiskey though!”

Lakrissa’s eyes lit up at the mention of whiskey. “Bring the bottle of whiskey then.”

“The whole bottle?” Mirkon squeaked.

“Lakrissa,” Alfira warned. “Remember what happened last time you mixed whiskey and wine.”

“I remember I had fun,” she replied and gestured for Mirkon to bring the bottle over. “Don’t need to remember much else.”

You shook your head, but you couldn’t help but smile. Lakrissa might be in for a nasty hangover the next morning, but if anyone deserved a couple of drinks, she did. Especially after everything they went through getting out of Moonrise.

“I’m going to bring another crate up before the whole place decides to switch to hard liquor,” you said, giving Wyll’s leg an affectionate squeeze before you got to your feet.

The crates were too large for the kids to carry safely, but you could manage. Besides, it made for a good opportunity to get a breath of fresh air. The longer you sat cuddled up next to Wyll, the greater the temptation to get even closer to him was. Considering “closer” probably meant fighting the temptation to crawl into his lap and straddle him, it was probably for the best to detangle yourself before that happened.

If you didn’t control yourself, you knew you’d be regretting it later when it came time to sleep. You’d be faced with the impossible decision of sleeping in Wyll’s arms or getting some alone time in your tent to deal with your self-inflicted sexual frustration.

Yep, a bit of space was just what you needed.

Before you could get a step away from the table, Wyll said, “I’ll come with you.”

Well, so much for that idea.

Wyll swung his legs around the side of the bench and stood beside you, slipping his arm around you once again. “Two pairs of hands are better than one, and besides — ” he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear, and whispered “ — it looks like Alfira wants a little one-on-one time with Lakrissa.”

“What was that, Mr. Blade of Frontiers?” Lakrissa asked cheekily, cupping her hand to her ear for emphasis. “You best share with the group.”

Wyll laughed and replied, “The only thing I’m sharing is another drink once we get back. I’ll look for another bottle of Esmalter Red while I’m down there.”

Lakrissa tapped her chin in mock consideration as she sat back in her seat. “I’ll accept that as a compromise, I suppose.”

“We’ll be back in a minute,” you said and started toward the front door.

As the chatter and the music faded behind you, Wyll’s hand moved from your waist to your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. When you glanced up at him, he was already smiling down at you with so much love in his gaze that made your heart pick up speed.

Gods, you loved him so much. Even if the romantic aspect of your relationship was relatively new, you knew you wanted to be at Wyll’s side for as long as he would have you. And you hadn’t felt that way about anyone else before.

There was something so special, so incredible, about him that you could hardly put it into words. In so many ways, Wyll was everything you had ever wanted — you wanted to experience the world with him but you didn’t know if that same world would give you time.

Wyll brought your hand to his lips and kissed the back of your knuckles. “This hand,” he said with a teasing grin, “was getting a bit adventurous under the table there.”

Pushing aside your thoughts, you blinked up at him innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” He pressed another kiss to your hand as you reached the top of the stairs at the side of the building. Without letting go of your hand, he had smoothly positioned you to the side with the railing. “Must have just been my imagination. It has been a little overactive in that regard, as of late.”

“Oh? What sorts of things have you been imagining, Wyll?” you replied knowing full well that he would be far too much of a gentleman to answer if his thoughts aligned with your own.

“You’ll find out,” he said as he helped you down the last step (although you didn’t need the help, the gesture was appreciated). “Just give it time.”

Time.

The one thing that seemed to be running out.

In the space beneath the building, the sounds of water lapping gently against docks echoed off the stone walls. Just a few hours ago, this was the location of a joyous reunion for many — people seeing loved ones they had thought lost over something completely out of their control. If not for the feeling of Wyll’s hand in yours, the whole place felt cold and yawningly empty.

Looking out over the river, you could see that thin border of light that separated you, and the people you cared about, from the Shadow Curse. It was like a singular pillar that held up an entire roof. Without it, everything would come crashing down — no matter how many other support beams were in place.

It all felt so fragile. All it would take is one thing going wrong and… you’d all be lost to the darkness.

Gods, any moment really could be the last, couldn’t it?

Your hand tightened around Wyll’s, as if you could squeeze out a little more hypothetical time with him. That’s all you wanted. Just some time for the two of you to be together without the looming fear of death.

Was that so much to ask?

“Are you feeling alright?” Wyll asked as he opened the door leading down into the cellar and gestured for you to go ahead of him. “You’ve got a bit of a far off look to you.”

There really wasn’t any point in lying to him or in pretending things were fine. Wyll was much better at reading you than most people, which was both a blessing and a curse. He always seemed to know just what you needed, but it also meant you could hardly keep anything from him. While he would never pressure you to talk if you didn’t want to, you didn’t like to leave him in the dark.

You took a few steps down the stairs, staring at the way your hand slid along the railing rather than look at the man above you. You could see his shadow against the wall beside you, the subtle tilt of his head and the curl of his horns. An ominous silhouette to most, but a source of comfort to you.

“I’ve just been thinking a bit about what you said a few nights ago,” you answered, your heart beating in your throat as you slowly continued your descent. “About our relationship, and how you want things to go.”

Behind you, you heard the door gently close against the frame followed by the click of a lock. The stairs creaked under his boots as he took the wooden stairs two steps at a time until he was at your side once more. “This sounds serious.”

You laughed, hoping to ease some of the tension. “It’s nothing serious,” you reassured him. “But it’s still something I wanted to bring up with you.”

“Of course.” There was a hint of nervousness to his voice, but he tried to mask it behind his charming, prince-like smile that could make most people swoon. “I’m always happy to talk.”

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you shuffled around to face him. The glow from a dim fireplace, one that hadn’t been tended to for a while now, glinted off of Wyll’s scarlet red eye as he gazed at you with a mixture of affection and concern.

Though the cellar was warm, you wrapped your arms around yourself as if there was a chill in the air, trying to muster up some courage.

Gods, did you even have to bring this up? You didn’t, right? But he was looking at you expectantly and the longer you waited, the worse your anxiety got and —

“I don’t want to wait,” you blurted out before you could talk yourself out of it.

Wyll’s brow drew together. “Wait for what?”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, looking past him rather than directly into his eye. “To be close to you,” you said, feeling heat rising to your cheeks. “To be intimate. We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow and I — I want to share that experience with you.”

There. It was out in the open and there was no taking it back. The worst that could happen was that he would turn you down again, right?

For a moment, there was nothing but stale cellar air and the sounds of the crackling fireplace between you two. You could hear footsteps from the taproom overhead counting out the beats of silence.

You swallowed. Gods, why did you have to say anything at all? He was giving you everything you wanted, yet you still wanted more?

Then a soft smile tugged at the corner of Wyll’s lip and a sense of relief coursed through you. The back of his fingers brushed against your cheek in a featherlight touch before he tucked his thumb beneath your chin. He tilted your face up, making it impossible for you to look anywhere but at his gorgeous, mismatched, eyes.

“I want to share that experience with you too,” he said, resting one hand on your hip as he took a single step closer. “Though, I’m of the mind that we will have plenty of time, and plenty of chances, to have that experience.”

Disappointment landed light a heavy weight in your gut, and you averted your gaze.

Well, it was worth a try.

It wasn’t like you could force Wyll to change his stance on such a thing. And it would have been wrong of you to do anything more than simply express your desires.

Still, it didn’t make the disappointment any easier.

“I hope you’re right,” you conceded with a hopeful long convincing smile, not wanting to put any pressure on him.

Wyll sighed and touched his forehead to yours. His horns were cool and hard against your skin and you closed your eyes, just breathing in his scent.

“I still believe in the old tales of love,” he said as his hand moved to your lower back. “And I want to give you the fairytale because that’s what you deserve. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make it our own.”

You blinked and pulled back just far enough to look Wyll in the eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

A rakish grin spread across his face, sending butterflies to your stomach in a flurry. “I’m saying that if you want to be more intimate” — his hand slipped beneath your shirt, his palm warm against the small of your back — “then we can be more intimate.”

Your heart leapt in your chest as a mixture of surprise and giddiness surged through you. Out of all the things you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

At least, you didn’t expect him to agree so readily.

Swallowing your excitement, you laced your fingers with his. You didn’t want to pressure him, and you didn’t think you were, but you still wanted to check….

“You’re sure?” you asked and pressed your lips to the back of his hand. “I know you have reasons for wanting to wait, and I don’t want you to change your mind just because — ”

A little huff of laughter passed Wyll’s lips. “I’m sure,” he confirmed. “This is our relationship — we make these sorts of decisions together. I’d much rather you talk to me about things like this rather than just quietly go along with what I said.”

He brought his palm to your cheek, carefully cupping your face as if you were something precious. “Besides,” he added, “I’ll admit that part of me was hoping you’d ask me to change my mind.”

Before you could even think of how to respond, Wyll’s lips brushed over yours in a sweet, silky caress. Light and teasing, if not a little playful at first. Taking his sweet time tasting you. The hand on your cheek slipped behind your head, tangling in your hair as he slowly deepened the kiss.

You couldn’t help the soft moan in your throat as he pulled you flush against him. He coaxed your lips apart with his tongue, sending a thrill of warmth through you with each delicate stroke. Looping your arms around his neck, you held yourself steady as you melted into his touch.

Gods, when he kissed you like this, how could you not want more? How could you be expected to keep your desires in check when his lips were as sinful as they were saccharine?

Wyll guided you backward until your back pressed against the cool stone wall of the stairwell, not once breaking his lips away from yours. He cupped your face, tilting your head back as he kissed you as if he could breathe you in.

A muscular thigh nudged between your legs, putting delicious pressure where you had long desired it. Heat rose to your face as you rolled your hips, slowly and subtly rocking against him.

Moving his hands to your hips, he pressed himself against you as he guided your movements on his leg to match his. The rhythm alone was enough to make your core clench with need. His parted lips dragged down the side of your neck as he let you grind against him. You let out a small, pleasured, gasp when he gently sucked and nipped at your skin.

Gods, he had barely begun to touch you and you were already trembling. Your body craved him like no other, and you had contented yourself with fantasies for so long. For him to actually be touching you like this? To be pulling closer instead of pulling back?

It was indescribable.

You brought your lips to his neck, stifling a moan as you kissed the prominent ridges on his throat. His fingers dug into your hips a groan rumbled in his chest. “Those are sensitive,” he said and nibbled at your earlobe.

You sighed as you closed your eyes. “Sensitive how?” you asked distractedly.

Wyll raised his hips, pressing himself against you and fully pinning you to the wall. The hard outline of him prodded your lower stomach. “That kind of sensitive.”

Your cheeks burned as his mouth hungrily returned to yours. No one had ever kissed you the way Wyll did. It was reckless and restrained, passionate and patient. And you wanted nothing more than for that patience and restraint to run out.

At least, just for a little bit.

Tension coiled inside of you as you grinded against him, winding tighter and tighter as he rocked into you. You were so close. Gods, you hadn’t even taken your clothes off and you were going to come.

“Wyll,” you whined against his lips, not knowing quite what you wanted. Did you want him to stop you? Or did you want —

“Come for me,” Wyll rasped, his voice unlike you had ever heard it before. His grasping fingers slid over the curve of your breast as he took your mouth in another consuming kiss.

Your nails dug into his shirt as your movements grew rougher and more erratic. Your breath came in panting gasps as pressure built deep in your core.

Every muscle in your body tightened. Your mouth fell open as you found your release. Your hips moved of their own accord but Wyll’s hands kept you steady as pleasure wracked your body.

“That’s it,” he soothed as you rode out your climax, his voice husky in a way that made your skin prickle.

He removed his leg from between your thighs just as you began to catch your breath. With his hands still on your hips, he kissed the corner of your mouth and then your cheek, his breathing almost as heavy as your own.

“Tomorrow night,” Wyll said softly as pulled away. His eyes locked onto yours, his good eye dark with barely restrained lust. His hands traced your curves and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.“Give me until tomorrow night, my love,” he said resolutely. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

With that tiny bit of distance between you, you could see a prominent, hard ridge in his trousers. You must have been staring, because Wyll chuckled and cleared his throat, quickly adjusting himself to hide his erection. Well, as much as he could.

You swallowed and licked your lips. “Do you — ”

He smiled at you broadly as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “By the time we pack up these crates, I’ll be all settled down.”

Oh, right. The wine. Lakrissa and Alfira were waiting for them.

But still….

You hooked two fingers around his belt loop and stepped closer. “But what if I want to?”

Wyll cupped your face in his hands and pressed his mouth to yours, chaste and sweet. “Then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night.”

---

Author's Note: This was meant to be like a 2k word oneshot and it turned into a whole thing. I'm still relatively new to writing in second person POV, so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

#wyll ravengard #x reader #wyll #wyll x reader #wyll smut #wyll fanfic

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spacebarbarianweird · 16 days

Text

Deep Reverie

Meanwhile I am writing a bday fic for @asterordinary, here is another dadstarion piece!

And there is also a snippet into the distant future just in case you want to see Astarion's granddaughter

Summary: Astarion has a very uncomfortable reverie only to be woken up by his 2-year-old daughter.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, dadstarion, snippet of the future

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion falls on the floor. The pieces of the rat he was forced to eat are stuck between his teeth but he doesn’t bother to take them out.

A night of “passion”. An innocent young woman, only eighteen years old. She didn’t want to sleep on their first date, but he persuaded her.

And ended her life by bringing her to Cazador.

As a reward, he was offered a choice. A filthy rat or a razor. For some reason, Astarion decided to fight back. Refused to devour the rat. Besides, the girl was so pure and pretty, didn’t he deserve a treat once in a while?

For that, his skin was flayed.

Long strings of flash were falling to the floor and the wounds immediately healed only to be cut open again.

And again.

Astarion begged. Cried. He was ready to eat the rat only to be spared from another series of tortures.

The master was in a good mood.

He allowed him to correct his mistake.

Now, Astarion lies in the corner on the stone floor. It’s cold. The dungeon is cold, and the autumn winds wander the mansion. The walls are covered in mold. His own body is dead and he has no warmth to preserve.

Astarion weeps mourning his own fate.

It will never end, he knows that.

Something touches his bare shoulder. Small fingers – and Astarion thinks it’s his gnome brother who came to him.

No, it's much smaller.

And warmer.

Astarion turns around and sees no one. But the touches become more intense – small hands shake his shoulder to make him pay attention.

And they are outworldly. They don't belong to this dungeon, to this mansion. They are on another plane of reality.

Astarion sits up. He is still in a dungeon, a cold and damp place. Godey follows his every movement. Someone screams from upstairs – one of his siblings is violently beaten.

Or assaulted.

Probably both.

Another touch, now more like a slap, but the hand is too small, it doesn't cause any unpleasant sensation.

Is he in a reverie?

Most of the time Astarion is aware that what he sees is a memory. But sometimes it’s such a deep reverie he is sure it’s real.

Astarion tries to concentrate on his body and feels like he is floating. Yes, yes! It was a reverie! A memory! A woman pleading for help, beatings, the dead rat. Everything.

But if it’s reverie, what is real?

Is he going to wake up in the same place? In the same dungeons?

Is he…

Astarion’s reverie ends.

He blinks.

His memories are an absolute mess and he tries to re-arrange his thoughts.

First of all, he is on the floor, but instead of cold stones, it’s a wooden floor.

Second, the place is unbelievably warm. He lies in front of the fireplace and the pleasant flame casts orange light on his face.

Third, he isn't naked. He wears soft fabric – a shirt, trousers, fur socks.

His head lies on a pillow.

And he doesn’t feel this horrible hunger. Well, he wouldn't mind blood, but he definitely can feel fine without it.

He notices a half-open book beside him.

Small feet echo through the room.

A two-year-old girl enters the room carrying a blankie. She approaches Astarion and then puts the blanket on his shoulders. The fabric is warm but very small and covers only the upper half of his torso.

He feels tears pricking his eyes.

Alethaine.

His baby daughter.

“Daddy sleep,” she pronounces, showing her fangs.

“I am not, princess," he answers. I am not. He sits up still holding the piece of fabric to himself.

Suddenly Alethaine’s lower lip quivers and the dhampir starts crying. She presses her tiny palms against his chest, helplessly pushing him back to the floor.

Astarion is confused for a few seconds and then laughs wholeheartedly.

“Whatever you say, princess,” Astarion lies back, adjusting his head on the pillow.

Alethaine sniffs and then lies beside him pressing her nose to his shoulder.

Her body warmth is a bit lower than it is supposed to be. She also doesn’t breathe, but her heart beats, she grows, and she has warm blood, though for Astarion it has a bitter smell and he knows even a drop of it would make him sick.

The girl in his reverie had silver hair too.

He doesn't remember her exact race or facial features but she was young, very young. And once she was a baby just like Alethaine. Maybe she insisted that her father sleep under a kid’s blankets, too.

And then Astarion found her. Seduced her. Dragged to bed even though she was clearly uncomofortable with sleeping on the first date.

He ruined her. And then Cazador destroyed her.

Astarion gives himself a promise that Alethaine will be able to protect herself. If a handsome stranger approaches her with sweet words she needs to stab him in the eye. She needs to bear her fangs and threaten to call her vampire father for help. Or murder them herself.

At least she is a dhampir. Her blood makes vampires sick. Even if a spawn makes a mistake, a vampire lord won’t dare to touch a dhampir.

For they are their parents’ demise.

Tiriel often mentions that sometimes, when her mind is sleepy, she is scared that there is a monster in her bed. Nothing changes the fact that Astarion is a vampire. Nothing.

Astarion sometimes has this chilly feeling that there is something dangerous in the house. Something that can end him. Something faster, something deadlier.

A two-year-old toddler with two pointy fangs who demands to be held by either of her parents and gets very upset if they are busy.

She is probably the only one in the house who isn’t afraid of no one. Her mortal mother. Her vampire father. The dhampir wants them both and loves them both.

Trusts.

“Oh, what a sight,” he hears Tiriel’s voice. “Alethaine, it’s time for a bath!” The half-elf leans into them, kisses Astarion, and then takes Alethaine.

“I wouldn’t mind a bath either,” he chuckles. “As long as you are present.”

“We can go there once she is asleep. I will gladly let you wash my hair,” Tiriel smiles softly and leaves the room.

Astarion finally makes himself get up and follows Tiriel to the bathroom. She’s already undressed Alethaine and put her in the small wooden tub. The girl splashes the water and giggles.

In the dim light it’s clear Alethaine has very pale skin.

Tiril splashes water on her long hair and starts washing it.

“Tiriel.”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Please?”

“Of course but I thought, you…”

“Tiriel. She is growing up. Look at her, she is two! How much time do we have to see her like that? To take care of her like that? It will be three years, four at best, and it will be inappropriate for me to see her undressed, to see her like that. You will have more years, of course, but soon she won't let you do all this. I have less time, but neither of us has much.”

“I see,” she kisses Astarion’s cheek. “Do it. You know, you are better at this anyway.”

“Am I?” Astarion chuckles, using soap to wash the girl’s hair.

“You are more tender. I sometimes make rough movements, she doesn’t like it.”

Astarion can’t imagine Tiril being rough or rude to their child but nods.

Suddenly Alethaine looks up and her ears twitch. “It’s night,” she declares. Then she makes a clicking sound with her teeth as if to bite something invisible.

Astarion concentrates on his vampiric senses and realizes that, yes, it’s already sunset.

And he can go outside.

“Yes, princess, it’s already night,” he smiles.

“I want to go outside.”

“Kitten, you can’t go outside after a bath. You will catch a cold,” Tiriel finds a toothbrush and kneels beside the small tub.

“I want outside. It’s night!” Alethaine insists. Astarion feels her muscles tense. She protrudes her jaw a bit.

Like the predator she is.

“We can go later,” Astarion splashes more water on her, washing the soap away.

“I want now! It’s calling me!”

Astarion sees terror in Tiriel’s eyes. Well, a little child insisting that something outside is calling for her is definitely creepy.

“And it can wait.”

“What is she talking about?” Tiriel asks, brushing Alethaine’s fangs.

“We are predators, darling. Night predators. It calls for the hunt. She feels it and wants to go.”

“Is it only about blood?” Tiriel asks.

“Maybe not,” Astarion gives his daughter a glass of water. “Alethaine, princess, what exactly do you want to do outside if we go out?”

“I want… I want … I want to go to the woods! To walk!”

“We can do it,” Astarion smiles. “But a bit later, all right, baby?”

“I want mum to go, too!” Alethaine casts a glance at Tiriel. “We go to the woods!”

Tiriel brings a towel, takes the girl from the bathtub, and wraps the fabric around her. “Alright, kitten, we all go together to see the night. But only once you are fully dry!”

Thanks to their dark vision, the little family sees everything perfectly. Tiriel sits on the grass, holding Astarion’s hand as if not to let him fall into the abyss of his own thoughts.

He is grateful for that. He is grateful for many things Tiriel has done for him, so natural for others, so distant for a creature like him.

Alethaine happily runs around.

“Will she remember that? This… night?” Tiriel asks.

“I don't know. Even if she learns how to reverie, such early years are beyond her reach.”

Suddenly Alethaine stands still and then jumps on something in the grass.

The next moment she shows her parents a scared-to-death mouse.

The mouse fights back for dear life, sensing the presence of two undead creatures.

“Princess, let it go,” Astarion says.

“I want it!” Alethakne insists on trying to hold the mouse still.

“Kitten, it’s scared,” Tiriel says.

“It is not!”

Astarion takes Alethaine’s tiny hand.

“Please, Alethaine. No one wants to be held against their will. It is bad.”

“Why?”

Astarion hesitates. It is difficult to explain to the child why imprisoning creatures are bad.

“Because it has a family that is waiting for it”, Tiriel says. “Imagine a giant catching you and dragging you to its lair. And how much we will miss you.”

Alethaine sits on the grass and lets the animal go.

“I would kill the giant," she suddenly says. “I am stronger.”

“And that's also not a good reason to kill anyone.”

“Unless they want to hurt you, then you are free to do anything," Astarion adds.

Alethaine sits between them, and Astarion brushes his fingers along her hair.

“I will remember that,” Astarion murmurs.

A little elf wanders through the clearance. She is only two and barely understands what is going on in the world around her. She knows that her mother calls her Little Fire because the toddler’s hair is the color of a flame. She also knows that her real name is Tiri and she is named after her grandmother who died centuries ago.

The world fascinates her and even though it’s dark she perfectly sees the tall grass flowers that grow abundant on the elven island which is her home. The toddler sees stars up in the skies and hears dozens of sounds with her pointy ears.

“Little Fire, don’t wander too far,” she hears a soft but stern voice.

Her mother stands a few feet away. Her long silver hair waves in the wind and her dress is as dark as night. Tiri is young, but she already understands her mother is different from other elves.

There is something different about her – she never goes to the druidic groves and often spends days in her dungeons where she performs something that Tiri’s father calls “necromancy”. She also has fangs she bares when she is angry.

And she can walk on ceilings.

Tiri returns to her mother and stretches her arms demanding to be taken in arms. Alethaine lifts Tiri up.

Her mother’s skin is cold but comfortable. Tiri’s vocabulary is still very small but she knows that her mother is a dhampir. But what exactly this word means, she doesn’t yet apprehend.

“You know, Little Fire,” she suddenly says. Tiri leans closer – her mother’s voice is soothing and something is enchanting about it. “I remember walking like that through the night clearance. I caught a tiny mouse, but your grandpa told me to let it go.”

“Mouse,” Tiri repeats.

“Yes, I caught a mouse. It was scared – and I was told to let it go. Weird, I am not supposed to remember such things, but I still do. You know, Tiri, my mum had the same freckles on her face. She would have loved you.”

Tiri senses sadness and buries her nose in her mother’s chest.

“Are you tired, Little Fire?” Alethaine asks, rubbing her daughter’s ear. The little elf nods and yawns. “Then, let’s you to bed.”

By the time they leave the clearance, Tiri is already fast asleep.

Alethaine hears her steady heartbeat and soft breath. Her baby is so alive she can’t believe Tiri came out of her half-dead body.

Did her father feel something similar when he was lulling Alethaine to sleep? Holding something that was part of him but much more alive and normal?

She was born with one foot in the grave her father had crawled from.

And what about her own mother, Tiriel? Tiriel died 170 years ago, her face is something Alethaine desperately tries to grasp, but it fades away. It’s a blurry image from the distant past when the dhampir was young and much more stubborn than she is now.

What did the half-elf feel when she held her dhampir child? The child who didn’t need to breathe and was cold as dead? Who tried to run away from her up to the ceiling and also had a pair of fangs?

Was she ever afraid? Did she ever feel sorry she married a vampire?

Alethaine knows the answer is “no”.

Her parents loved each other. Her father’s undead heart was shattered in pieces when Tiriel died and, even though he’s lived his undead life fully, they both know some things can’t be compensated.

Tiriel was never afraid. She wasn’t afraid of her husband, she wasn’t afraid of her daughter. She loved her with all the passion and warmth she was capable of.

Alethaine looks back.

The night calls to her like it has been doing for three centuries, ever since Alethaine was born. It sings, making the dhampir’s body stir and her fangs itch.

“I will come back,” Alethaine whispers into the dark. “But first I need to put my Little Fire to bed.”

Tag list @tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-eyes @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong @herdarkestnightelegance

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