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hyperfixatedonthisnow · 10 months

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Siren's call

*not my GIF I know, I know, I suck at titles, but I’ve come to accept this about myself and therefore so must you! Summary: A Siren and a privateer fall in love, but how will he react when he finally learns what she is? Requested by: Anonymous - Sturmhond/Nikolai finds out his girlfriend is a siren. How will that go? - Dearest anon, I am *so* sorry that this took me so long to put out. I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole researching Sirens and found your request so interesting that I honestly could have written much more. I started out with Sturmhond, then switched to Nikolai after reader learns his real name, and I went with Sirens as shape-shifting mermaids, rather than the Greek version of bird like creatures, mostly because it was easier to write in but also because birds freak me out a bit tbh, I’m hoping you don’t mind. Also there’s smut at the end, but if you don’t like that then feel free to stop reading when the kissing starts 😉 I realized way too late that I probably should have asked you for more details 🤦‍♀️ So I can only hope that this is something close to what you wanted! Word count: 7.5K ish - because much like our favorite prince/privateer, I prefer to use several words when one will do 😅

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Mild peril, mild angst, a touch of fluff, minor OC’s who exist only to further the (minimal) plot, a very brief mention of non-con (but not with Nikolai), smut, fem!reader, P in V sex, semi-rough sex, marking, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)

You had been following the ship closely for weeks, watching the crew, learning their habits, and charting their course to figure out the best time to take them. Amalia preferred to wait until they were close to land, though it was easier and safer to simply lure them into open water out at sea. She liked the challenge, but more than that, she liked to be the last thing the men saw before they died. It made her feel powerful- to know how much they wanted her and could never have her.

If it was up to you, you would wait until nightfall and sing from a distance, letting your enchanting lullaby guide the men from their beds straight into a watery grave. You didn’t take pleasure in their deaths, even if you knew it was necessary. Unnatural your sisters teased, for a Siren to have such a soft heart. Amalia never joined in with the teasing, though you knew she didn’t really understand you either. Still, she indulged you by allowing you to act as scout, and that meant you could mostly narrow down the targets to pirates and slavers, offering the fishermen and other sailors some small semblance of protection.

Whenever possible, you would scout several ships at a time, so that you could choose the one you wanted and hopefully sway Amalia towards it when you returned to discuss your findings. Unfortunately, only one ship had passed through your waters in almost a month, and although you felt it was worth saving, there was no second option.

When you met with Amalia, you thought carefully about what you had found before you spoke, deciding on the major details you should share with her and filtering out your own more personal observations.

At first glance, it had seemed like a Pirate ship, but further investigation proved that it was not. The crew was an eclectic mix of men, women, and Grisha, of various ages and races. The captain - who went by the name Sturmhond and insisted he was not a pirate, but a privateer - was young, barely out of boyhood, and yet it was clear that he commanded their respect.

He ran a tight ship, but he always treated his crew warmly and he worked alongside them often, doing his fair share of the hard work. He was rarely angry and never cruel, as far as you could tell. At night the crew would gather on the deck to drink and play cards, and he usually joined them. He didn’t seem to think himself above their company as some captains would. You watched him dance and laugh along with the others, and when he lost at cards, he always took it in good humour.

In the conversations you had overheard, the captain’s responses were measured and kind, free from judgment or scorn. Although they carried an impressive arsenal of weapons, you had witnessed no violence from him, nor any of his crew. No prisoners taken, no poor souls forced to walk the plank, no slaves bound in the hull of his ship.

He spent most of his hours working on some flying contraption and after several failed tests, you saw his joy when it actually worked. He was a good man, you had concluded. Intelligent and funny, and handsome, too. You tried to imagine Amalia’s face if you admitted that last bit out loud - she would probably think you had taken leave of your senses completely.

You bit your lip, wondering how you could persuade her to spare them, to spare him.

“Actually, I was thinking… maybe we should… let this one go,” you suggested tentatively. Might as well just be direct.

Amalia stared at you as though you had grown an extra head. “Let them go?” She said after a moment, her nose scrunching in disgust. “You think these men should live?”

“They aren’t just men,” you rushed, trying to justify yourself. “There are women on the crew, and Grisha too.”

“And?” Amalia prompted.

“And, they don’t deserve to be punished for the sins of men,” you argued, “they’re innocent.”

Amalia rolled her eyes, “They’ve chosen to take up with a pirate, have they not?”

“Privateer,” you corrected, but the moment the word was out you wished you could call it back.

Amalia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at you. “Privateer?” She echoed.

“Yes?” You squeaked, and it sounded more like a question than an answer. You cleared your throat. “Yes. He’s not a pirate, he’s a privateer, and he’s a good man, Amalia. I’ve seen it.”

Amalia laughed, “There is no such thing as a good man,” she muttered, “They are all the same. Weak-minded, arrogant, selfish creatures. They live only for violence and destruction.”

“Not him,” you said firmly. “He’s not like the others.”

“He’s exactly like the others,” she snapped, “If you gave him the chance, he would kill you without a second thought.”

“No,” you argued, “You’re wrong about him. He’s smart and kind, and good. I swear it.”

She studied you for a long moment and you tried not to fidget under her disapproving gaze. Your cheeks felt hot, and you knew you were probably blushing.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with him!” She exclaimed finally.

You said nothing, but your silence was answer enough. You looked away, pressing your lips together. It was out there now, no point in trying to deny it.

“Foolish girl,” Amalia said, shaking her head. “There is no future for you with him, surely you must see that?”

“Of course I do,” you whispered, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. “But I won’t watch him die Amalia. Not this one. I can’t.”

Amalia sighed, and then she surprised you by pulling you in to a tight hug.

“Please,” you begged, voice breaking.

“There’s a storm coming,” she murmured into your hair, “I suppose we could wait it out.”

“We could?” You questioned hopefully.

“If they can survive it, on their own, then we will leave them be. That’s the best I can do.”

Relief flooded through you, and you hugged Amalia tighter. “Thank you!” You cried.

She pulled back to look at you, her expression troubled. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but men are dangerous. All men. Even your privateer,” she said seriously, hands gripping your shoulders, “So if I do this, if I let him live, it is on the condition that you agree to stay away from him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. You would do anything to protect him.

“You must never see him again. Not ever. Promise me,” she insisted.

“I promise,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

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The sea was rough, waves cresting 30ft high only to crash back down, as loud as thunder. You watched as the ship rose and fell along with them. You weren’t supposed to be here, had promised to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know that he would be ok. Amalia had agreed to wait until the storm had passed, but if the ship ran aground her small act of mercy wouldn’t matter.

You moved closer, letting the current sweep you towards the ship. It had to be taking on water, but so far, the crew seemed to be holding on. Once you were close enough, you watched them carefully. The Grisha who usually guided their sails spread his arms wide, fighting a losing battle against the ferocious winds. He was just a boy, and not nearly powerful enough to tame such a storm alone. A woman jumped from the lookout, rolling across the deck, and landing gracefully on her feet beside a tall man with similar features. They moved to secure the main sail, working in perfect tandem. A man in a teal coat ran from post to post, tightening the rigging and testing the knots before making his way to the helm to take the wheel. Sturmhond. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaking wet. He took the wheel with both hands, pulling hard to the left, and though his expression was determined, you could sense his growing desperation.

The ship slowly began to turn, forcing the bow away from the storm. Trying to outrun it. For a moment it looked as though his plan might actually work, but then suddenly the ship listed dangerously starboard. Sturmhond struggled to right it, but it was too late. A wave crashed over the now tilted masts, snapping them clean away with a force that rolled the entire ship on to its side. It bobbed precariously for half a second, sailors clinging to the railings, before another wave hit, cracking the hull. If they weren’t taking on water before, they certainly were now. Finally, a voice called out, “ABANDON SHIP!” and the crew began leaping into the sea, frantically trying to escape the wreckage before it capsized completely.

Your eyes scanned the chaos, looking for Sturmhond. You found him clambering up one side of the railing, the ship already beginning to sink beneath his feet. He was looking around, searching for something. Checking all his crew had managed to get out. And then you saw it, at the same time he did - the Grisha crewman, hanging upside down, tangled in the remains of the rigging. The boy struggled, desperately trying to free himself, but he was stuck. Jump, you urged the privateer silently, leave him, but you already knew he wouldn’t. He turned away from the water and began climbing towards his crew mate instead. Stupid. He would never make it in time. The ship was sinking rapidly. In just a few precious seconds it would go under, and when it did, anyone still on it would be pulled under along with it.

You wanted to help him, but you knew you shouldn’t. You thought of your promise to Amalia. She would be furious if she found out you were here, even more so if you interfered. You hesitated, still watching from a safe distance as Sturmhond reached the Grisha with barely a moment to spare. He tugged a knife from his boot and cut the boy free, allowing him to drop safely into the water beneath them. The boy didn’t wait for his captain, he immediately began swimming away from the wreckage. But before Sturmhond could follow, another huge wave swept over the ship, dragging it - and him - underwater, just as you had predicted. He was going to drown.

You made a split-second decision, diving under the water to search for him. The weight of the sinking ship acted like a vacuum, sucking everything downward to the sea floor. You followed it down, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Panic clawed at your chest. Had he made it to the surface by himself? You turned, ready to go back up, when a flash of teal and gold below you caught your eye. There. You dove back down, looping your arms under his and hauling him against you. He was limp, a heavy weight in your arms. You held him tight, swimming away from the wreckage and towards the surface as fast as you could.

When you reached the surface, you pulled him above the water line, working hard to keep you both afloat. His head lolled back on your shoulder and his eyes were closed. You weren’t sure if he was breathing, and you felt panic building again. You tried to ignore it as you headed for the shore, where you shifted quickly into human form. Once you had dragged him onto the wet sand, you laid him on his back and pressed your ear to his chest. There was no sound, no movement that suggested breathing. Maybe he swallowed too much water?

You turned his head to the side and then placed your hands over his stomach and pushed upwards, hard. Was that the right thing to do? You weren’t sure, but you thought you had seen it done before, once… maybe. Nothing happened. You tried again, and again… and again. Were you doing it wrong … or were you just too late? But then, suddenly, he was coughing up a lungful of water and gasping for breath as he came round. After a few moments he blinked his eyes open, finding you still leaning over him.

“Am I dead?” He mumbled.

“No,” you assured him. Thank the sea goddess! Overcome with emotion, you flung yourself at him, sobbing in relief. His arms closed around you hesitantly, though he surely thought you were insane - a perfect stranger, crying over him and hugging him without invitation.

The storm was over and the sea eerily still by the time the rest of his crew managed to make it to shore. You had calmed yourself, and Sturmhond was sitting up, chatting amiably with you, as if he hadn’t almost died mere minutes earlier. You learned that he had another ship, the Volkvolny, and he cheerfully informed you that really, the storm had done him a favour, because he hadn’t liked the other one all that much anyway. It was nothing short of a miracle that everyone had survived the wreckage with only minimal injuries, and that put them all in a remarkably good mood considering the circumstances. Sturmhond introduced you to the crew, and casually insisted you join them at the local tavern, to dry off and have a strong drink, or two.

As you got to your feet, you caught sight of Amalia at the far side of the shore. Too far away to really make out her features, but you could imagine the look of disappointment on her face. You had broken the promise you made her, and worse than that, here you were walking and talking with humans as though you were old friends. To top it all off, you had committed a cardinal sin amongst Sirens - you had saved a man’s life. You had chosen a man over your sisters, and no matter how much Amalia loved you, this was the one thing she could not forgive.

At the tavern, you quickly discovered that Sturmhond and his crew were a lively, friendly bunch. You were treated as the guest of honour since you had saved the captain’s life, and they welcomed you with open arms. So, when they planned to move to the Volkvolny, and asked if you wanted to come along, you agreed to go with them.

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It was far easier than you would have expected for you to adjust to your new life aboard the Volkvolny. You found that you had watched enough Sailors over the years to pick up some of the basics and luckily you hit it off with Tamar, who quickly took you under her wing, teaching you the more advanced skills. You listened to endless hours of poetry readings from Tolya, and in exchange he offered to teach you how to fight. In fact, most of the crew accepted you readily. In truth, a lot of the men had just been so enthralled by your ethereal beauty that they were half in love with you at first sight, and the fact that you had saved their captain’s life had been enough to endear you to the rest.

All except for one woman, a young Grisha heartrender named Laila who seemed set on hating you no matter how hard you tried to befriend her. Tamar said it was jealousy - Laila wanted to be the captains favourite but he had never shown any interest in her, and now with you around, he likely never would. You tried not to let it bother you, but you were worried that she might sense something was different about you and early one morning she confirmed your fears when she cornered you in the galley, pushing you up against the wall.

“I’m on to you,” she hissed, “you’re hiding something and I’m going to figure out what it is.”

You played it cool, pretending you had no idea what she meant, and though you briefly considered throwing her overboard, you ultimately decided it was too risky. Instead, you did your best to avoid her at all times, at least as much as you could avoid someone living in such close proximity, and you became an expert at hiding in plain sight.

The bond you had formed with Sturmhond as a result of saving his life grew into a fully-fledged friendship, and then, into something sweeter. Over time, you found yourself sharing his bed as well as his company, and once he trusted you enough to reveal his true identity - Nikolai Lantsov, royal spare to the Ravkan throne - you were moved into the captain’s quarters permanently.

You missed Amalia and being on the sea everyday but never in it, was its own special kind of torture, but you had made your choice and you would do it all over again in a heartbeat. You would choose him, always, whatever the cost. So, you vowed never to use your power again, if it only meant you could keep this new life, if it meant you could keep him. But of course, nothing was ever that simple.

You had been on the Volkvolny for almost a year when it finally happened…

The crew were gathered in a loose circle on the lower deck, chatting and sharing several bottles of liquor, relaxing after a long day. You followed Nikolai down the steps to join them and when he took the only empty seat, you didn’t hesitate to drop yourself into his lap. A chorus of wolf whistles and hooting erupted from the crew around you.

“Perverts,” you muttered, giving them the middle finger and they all laughed.

Nikolai looped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned against him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, content to just be close to him while the crew drank and talked around you. You joined the conversation only when spoken to directly and luckily no one noticed your contemplative mood, as they all got steadily drunker and rowdier as the night went on. At some point, someone started singing a sea shanty and one by one the rest of the crew joined in, happy and loud, and painfully off-key. You smiled and clapped along, but otherwise stayed quiet. Laila was watching you carefully from across the circle.

“You’re not singing,” she said suddenly, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the accusation in her tone.

“Oh, no one wants to hear my singing,” you laughed nervously, waving her off, “honestly I’m terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “You can’t be that bad. Come on, just sing a few lines,” she pushed.

You shifted uncomfortably on Nikolai’s lap. His hand tightened on your waist, and you knew he was listening. You struggled to think of another excuse. “I- umm…”

“Leave her alone,” Tamar interjected, and you flashed her a grateful smile for coming to your rescue. “She doesn’t have to sing if she doesn’t want to.”

“But she never wants to sing,” Laila muttered petulantly, “don’t you think that’s odd?”

“What’s odd is you insisting she does,” Nikolai said, an unmistakable edge to his voice. “Let it go Laila.”

Laila flushed at the reprimand. She reluctantly fell silent again, but she was glaring at the drink in her hands, her expression murderous. Silence stretched awkwardly for a few seconds, until Tolya thankfully broke it by producing a deck of cards and starting a game.

You declined to play, and as the cards were dealt you turned your attention away. Through the gaps in the railings, you could see the miles of deep blue sea that stretched all the way to the horizon, and you felt a familiar pull, calling you home. You closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill your lungs. Home. You would never be truly at home here, on this ship, and that thought filled you with sadness. You thought of Amalia, and you wondered if she missed you, the way that you missed her.

You were pulled from your reverie by Nikolai shifting beneath you. He leaned over you to throw his cards down on the table, declaring he was bowing out of the game and then he sat back, pulling you further into his lap.

“Everything alright, my love?” He asked quietly, his lips brushing your ear. You pushed away your melancholy, turning your head so you could look at him.

“Yes,” you murmured, and you meant it. You wanted to be here, with him, no matter how much you might miss home.

“Thinking about how absurdly handsome I am?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, and you laughed.

“No, but I was thinking about you,” you admitted, “about how I ended up here.”

“Ah, so you’re thinking about the time you saved my life then. No wonder you looked so serious.”

“Which time?” You mused, teasing him, “There are so many, I think I’ve lost count.”

Nikolai gasped, all faux outrage. “Once.” He insisted, “It was one time.”

“If you say so,” you smiled indulgently as he leaned in to kiss you, slow and deep, his hand cupping your jaw. The whistling and jeering immediately started up again. You pulled away, rolling your eyes at the crew’s antics.

Nikolai sighed. “For Saints sake,” he grumbled, but he sounded more fond than angry.

When you looked up, Laila was glaring at you. She fixed a smile on her face as you met her gaze, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking,” She said loudly, gaining everyone’s attention, “what exactly happened, the night you joined us? We’ve never heard your side of the story.”

Had she figured it out? You tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible, but you had stared at her for a beat too long, and now everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“There’s really not much to tell,” you said carefully.

“Don’t be so modest,” Laila said, her smile sharp, “you saved the Captain’s life after all, and I want to hear every detail.”

Your heart pounded. You should have pushed her overboard when you had the chance. As you tried to come up with a plausible story, the ship was suddenly engulfed in a thick fog.

After that, everything happened so quickly that you barely understood it. One moment you were sailing in open water, the night clear and still, and the next, you were dodging gunfire in near blindness, as men appeared from nowhere and swarmed the ship. The crew fought valiantly, but you were outnumbered and outmatched by a pair of the most powerful Grisha you had ever encountered. You had heard rumours about the drug jurda parem, and now it seemed you were seeing it’s effects first hand. All around you was chaos and you couldn’t keep track of anything. Before long, most of your crew were injured and eventually, all of them captured.

The fog dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and then there was Nikolai - bleeding, gagged and bound - forced to his knees on the deck of his own ship.

A man grabbed you from behind, holding you against his body with an arm around your waist and a hand twisting painfully in your hair. Nikolai tried to call out as he caught sight of you and your captors laughed.

“Looks like we’ve found the captain’s whore,” one of the men chuckled.

The one holding you ran his hand up from your waist to roughly grab at your breast. You held perfectly still, you weren’t going to give these animals the satisfaction of a reaction, but Nikolai struggled against his bonds, and the man standing over him backhanded him hard across the face. He swayed on his knees, the force of the blow almost knocking him over, and blood trickled from the fresh wound at his temple. The men began talking amongst themselves, loudly detailing all the disgusting things they would enjoy doing to you later.

“Don’t worry,” Nikolai’s captor taunted him, “we’ll let you watch.”

Nikolai struggled again, cold rage clear in his eyes as the men laughed. For a brief moment, he managed to get to his feet, but that only gave his captor an excuse to hit him again, and again, until he slumped to the floor, and when you screamed in protest, the men laughed harder, enjoying your misery.

These men were going to die today, you decided, and you would not show them the mercy of a quick death.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and started to sing. At first the men only looked at each other in confusion, but as your melody continued, they gradually fell under your spell, their eyes glazing over. You tried your best to focus only on them, but it wasn’t an exact science, so your crew also felt the effects. Conveniently, they were all bound and so had little chance of hurting themselves.

You concentrated on the Grisha first since they were the biggest threat, followed by the rest of the men. At your instruction, they turned as one, and forming an orderly line, walked to the side of the ship before binding their own hands and feet together. Then they clambered up onto the railing, and one by one, threw themselves into the water, like lemmings leaping off a cliff. You saved the man who had smacked Nikolai for last, and before he jumped, had him stab himself with his own blade several times, just for good measure.

Once the last man entered the water, you stood at the railing, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as you watched them trying, and failing, to fight against their bonds in an effort to return to you. You watched each one slowly begin to sink beneath the water, and only once you were sure there would be no chance that any of them might survive, did you stop singing and move away. When it was done, you set about releasing your crew from their bindings and tending to their wounds as best you could. They were groggy from the after-effects of your song, and it took some hours for everyone to fully come around. No one could really remember what had happened, and you pretended not to know either. You could only cross your fingers and hope that no one realized the truth of what you had done.

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Nikolai was quiet in the aftermath, and though he put up a good front for the rest of the crew, you could tell he was shaken by what had happened. Once everyone was attended to, he announced he was going to his office and he took your hand, pulling you along with him. You followed him to the captain’s quarters in silence.

He let you enter first and you heard the soft click of the lock as he closed the door behind him. You perched yourself on the edge of his desk as you waited for him, but when he turned, he leaned back against the door instead of coming closer. His face was set, his eyes hard, and you knew that he had finally figured out your secret. Honestly, you were surprised it had taken him this long, you had always known it was only a matter of time. You watched him carefully, but you said nothing, waiting for him to speak first.

“You’re a Siren,” he said finally.

You nodded your head in answer, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question. He stared at you for a long moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, mulling over the many questions he must have. Eventually he seemed to settle on one.

“How many innocent men have you killed?” He asked.

“Innocent?” You huffed, “None.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “But you have lured men to their deaths, haven’t you?”

“I have.” You conceded. He knew what you were now, there was no reason to lie.

“So? How many?” He pressed. “You must have some idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off to you.

“I didn’t exactly keep a tally,” you muttered.

“Tell me,” He demanded, “Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, “I can’t remember them all.”

“Those men had lives and families,” he said, outraged, “they were someone’s father, brother, son, and you don’t even remember them?!”

You felt your own temper beginning to rise and you struggled to keep your voice even. “They were Slavers. Murderers and Pirates. They were the worst kind of men.”

“You don’t know that!” He argued, “What right did you have to judge them?”

“I’m a Siren,” you reminded him, “It’s what I was born to do. I followed them first, watched them, saw what kind of men they were with my own eyes. I only ever took the bad ones.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “So now you expect me to believe Sirens follow some kind of moral code?”

“Not all Sirens, but I expect you to believe that I do.”

“How am I to believe anything you say” he scoffed, “You’ve been lying to me since the day we met.”

“I didn’t lie to you, not really. Everything I told you about myself was true. I just omitted one small detail.”

He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I think we have a vastly different understanding of the word small,” he muttered, “and a lie by omission is still a lie.”

He wasn’t wrong, but … “You lied to me too, Sturmhond.”

He straightened, no longer leaning against the door, but still kept the distance between you. “That’s hardly the same!” He protested.

“Isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he huffed, “besides, I told you the truth once I thought I could trust you. Although clearly, I was mistaken.”

“You can trust me,” you insisted. “In case you’ve forgotten, I saved your life - twice. You’re welcome, by the way!”

He didn’t look convinced. “That first night, when you rescued me, were you watching the ship? Just waiting for an opportunity to kill us all?”

“No! I mean, yes - I watched you for a while, but I was never going to lure you. I convinced my sister to let you go,” you rushed, desperately trying to explain, “I promised to stay away from you and in return Amalia agreed that they wouldn’t go after you, if you survived the storm on your own.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, brow furrowed in confusion. “The ship sank and I almost drowned.”

“I remember. I was there when the storm hit. I saw you save the boy who was trapped in the rigging, and when you went under, I came after you.”

“I don’t understand. If you promised to stay away from me then why were you there?” He asked, frown deepening.

“I just needed to be know you would be alright,” you admitted softly, “I wasn’t supposed to help you.”

“I don’t suppose many Sirens would go out of their way to save a man from drowning,” he said, mouth curving into a wry smile.

“No. It goes against their nature. But you decided to act the hero and almost got yourself killed in the process,” you muttered angrily, “so I had to choose, and I chose you, even though I knew my sisters would never forgive me.”

“So, you really did save my life? That was real?”

“Yes. Everything between us has been real for me, I swear it,” you said earnestly, “I gave up everything for you.”

He moved towards you then, coming to stand over you where you were still sitting on the edge of his desk, and you widened your thighs to allow him in between them. He was so close that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You closed your hands in to fists, fighting the urge to reach for him.

“And tonight?” He asked, “Did you kill those men?”

You could have lied, or pretended not to remember what happened, but you didn’t want there to be anymore secrets between you. “I did,” you confessed, meeting his eyes. You weren’t ashamed of what you had done. “and I would do it again if I had to. They would have killed you.”

“You’re not sorry,” he said, and you wondered if he wanted you to be.You thought about it for a moment, but when you closed your eyes, you could still see him on his knees. No. You weren’t sorry at all.

“They got what they deserved,” you hissed, “and the world is a better place without them in it.”

He gave a short, sharp nod of his head in agreement, and you smiled. Whatever he thought of you, he understood this at least.

“Tell me why,” he said, lifting a hand to brush your hair back from your face. “Why did you save me?”

“Because I love you,” you answered honestly, leaning into his touch when his hand lingered. “I loved you then and I love you now, even if you don’t feel the same.”

He dropped his hand, taking a single step back and you had to stop yourself from swaying forward, chasing the physical connection.

“How do I know that my feelings for you are truly my own? That you’re not influencing me somehow?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “by using your Siren powers to manipulate me? To seduce me? How do I know you’re not just making me think I’m in love with you.”

“Are you?” You asked hopefully, “In love with me?”

He looked away. “Maybe,” he hedged.

“Well, Siren power doesn’t work that way. My song inspires lust-addled obsession, blind desire, unwavering obedience - not love.”

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, considering your answer. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you, and suddenly all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.

“Okay.” He said finally. He stepped closer, into your personal space again, but frustratingly kept his hands to himself.

“Okay?”

“Yes. I believe you,” he said, “but you still should have told me. I had the right to know that the woman I’m sleeping with, the woman I fell in love with is a-“

“A monster?” You finished for him. You knew what men thought of creatures like you.

He glared at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s not what you were going to say?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“No.” He said firmly.

“Mmm,” you hummed skeptically. “So you’re not afraid of me?”

He blinked at you, as though the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Should I be?”

“Well, a little bit couldn’t hurt,” you teased.

He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now, that perfect crooked smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, finally, pulling you into him and you fisted your hands in his shirt to keep him there. He lowered his head at the same time that you tilted yours up, and your lips ghosted over each other, close enough to share a breath but not quite touching.

“I have one last question,” he said, and you bit back a sigh. For saints sake, what else could he possibly want to know?

“Have you ever used your power to seduce me?”

You squinted at him, trying to decide if he was saying you might need to use your power to seduce him. You felt a flush of annoyance at the suggestion. “No,” you said carefully, “should I?”

He shook his head, no. “I already want you,” he admitted.

“Good,” you smiled, “because I want you too. All the time.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up into a pleased little smirk. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, leaning into him, and this time he kissed you for real, his lips soft but insistent against your own, not pulling away until you were both breathless.

“I’m still angry with you,” he said, when he finally succumbed to the need for air, “for lying to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, and you meant it.

“I know,” he said and then he dipped his head to kiss you again.

He brought his hand up to cup your face, the other still gripping your waist as you opened your mouth to him. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own and every time you pulled back, he only allowed you to draw a single, ragged breath before he claimed your lips again.

One of his hands ran up your side from your waist, until his thumb grazed the swell of your breast over the thin cotton of your shirt, and you shivered, leaning into his touch. You could feel his growing arousal against your thigh, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his bare skin against your own. You tugged his shirt free from his breeches, pulling it up and off over his head before he could protest.

He immediately slanted his mouth over yours again, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from you for more than a few seconds, and you let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and chest, before you worked on removing your own shirt. Your fingers slipped over the small buttons, and you growled in frustration, breaking away from his kiss so that you could see what you were doing. He made a sound of irritation, ducking his head to nip lightly at the curve of your neck and you gasped, your shirt momentarily forgotten as you grabbed a fistful of his hair instead. He groaned low in his throat when you pulled him closer rather than pushing him away, and he nipped at you again, teeth grazing your pulse point, this time hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned as his tongue flicked out to sooth the sting and you felt his lips turn up into a self-satisfied smirk against your skin.

When you finally succeeded in unbuttoning your shirt, you reached around your back to unhook your bra and removed that along with it, and then you dropped your hands to the laces of his breeches before he could distract you again. He finally realized your goal then, and began to help, rather than hinder you, pushing his breeches and underwear down to his ankles so that he could kick them away. You stood so that you could do the same and once you were both naked, he lifted you back up, so you were sitting on the edge of his desk again.

You leaned back on your hands, and he dipped his head, capturing one pebbled nipple with his tongue. You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his mouth as his fingers skated along your inner thigh towards your centre. He gave a small grunt of satisfaction when he found you slick and ready for him and you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging him upwards until he released your nipple with a soft pop.

He slipped two fingers inside you easily, and when you clenched around him, he let out a distinctly strangled sound. You met his gaze as you sat up, so you could hook your legs around his thighs, locking your ankles behind his ass to keep him there, and you enjoyed the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched as his cock settled between your thighs, so close to where you wanted him. You tilted your hips up, and he took the hint, guiding himself into place and filling you completely with one quick, hard thrust that had you crying out.

You clutched at him desperately, barely able to do anything but hold on as he set a punishing pace, driving his hips forward fast and hard, only to retreat, again, and again, until you were both panting. His hands gripped your hips so hard that you knew there would be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. The desk creaked loudly, almost drowning out your mutual sounds of pleasure, the sturdy wooden frame rocking beneath you with the force of his thrusts.

His face was buried in your neck, and you tugged impatiently on his hair as you felt the first tendrils of your impending orgasm began to creep up your spine, until he lifted his head so that you could capture his mouth with yours. He slipped his hand between your bodies as he felt you tightening around him, his clever fingers finding your clit and tipping you over the edge into climax with just a few precise movements. You cried out his name, convulsing around him as you came, your hand tightening in his hair so hard that it must have been painful, and you felt his rhythm falter. He thrust harder, pushing as deep as he could possibly go, once, twice, three times, then he stilled and shuddered, spilling himself inside you.

You all but collapsed against each other, both boneless and breathing heavily in the aftermath of your orgasms. He was the first to recover, and he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple as he straightened, retreating from your body. He moved over to the basin near the bed, dipping a clean cloth into the water and wringing it out before returning. His hands were gentle, in stark contrast to how rough he had been minutes before and you tried not to wince as he carefully cleaned away the sticky remnants of your shared release, but his observant eyes caught it anyway. He pressed a finger under your chin to gently tilt your head up.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, face creased in concern.

“No,” you answered, much too quickly.

He raised his eyebrows at you, his expression disbelieving.

“I’m a little bit sore,” you reluctantly admitted.

His face dropped into a scowl, and you knew he was angry at himself for being so rough with you.

“I’m ok,” you assured him, brushing your fingers across his forehead to smooth away his frown.

He searched your face, looking for any sign that you might not be telling the truth and you met his gaze, your expression loving and completely open. He rested his forehead against yours, peering down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said after a moment, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about right now.

“Never again,” you promised.

“Okay.” He said softly.

He leaned in to kiss you, sweet and chaste, just a slow glide of his lips over yours before pulling back to slide one arm underneath you and the other around your back. You squealed as he scooped you up, bridal style, so that he could carry you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand and then lowered you down and crawled in beside you, immediately curling his body around you.

You tried to relax into his embrace, but you couldn’t, not when there was still so much you needed to talk about. You were afraid to bring it up, too scared to hear him say that this was the last time you could be together, so you waited until his breathing began to even out and he was almost asleep before you forced yourself to speak.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly.

“Huh?” He mumbled sleepily.

“With us,” you elaborated, “do you want me to leave?”

“What? No.” He said, suddenly sounding much more alert, “Of course not.”

He rolled on to his back and you turned to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you could look at him.

“What will you tell the crew?”

“Nothing,” he said simply, and though you should have been relieved, you only felt more anxious.

“But Laila is already suspicious,” you pointed out, “and Tolya and Tamar are too sharp not to figure it out eventually.”

“Then we’ll tell them the truth.”

“They won’t want me on this ship when they find out what I am, Nikolai.”

“Last time I checked, I was the captain,” he smirked, “I decide who I do, and don’t allow on my own ship.”

“Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” you grumbled, “You’ll end up with a mutiny on your hands.”

“Then we’ll leave,” he said easily, as if it was the most obvious solution.

“Leave?” You repeated, not sure you had understood.

He shrugged, seemingly completely unbothered by the idea. “I was always going to have to go home eventually.”

“You can’t just leave. You love this ship!” You protested.

“I do,” he said, turning on his side so that you were face to face, “but I love you more. It’s my turn to give something up. If it comes down to it, I’ll choose you, always.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Hadn’t you just been thinking that very same thought earlier? He leaned in to kiss you, slow and achingly sweet, and all of your protests died on your tongue. He nudged you gently to turn over, pulling you back against him and wrapping his arm around you, so that you could be the little spoon as you finally went to sleep.

#nikolai lantsov #grishaverse #shadow and bone #nikolai lanstov x reader #smut #my writing #i wrote this #patrick gibson #i love him so much #zoya is my queen but not in this fic

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redahlia-writes · 2 years

Text

unwind. | din djarin x f!reader

Summary: mando comes back from a bounty gone astray and needs to wind down.

Words: 3K

Warnings: MINORS DNI, this is straight up smut, mando being a little mean but just for like 5 seconds, there’s a blindfold involved, dry humping/thigh riding, creampie, an excessive use of pet names, unedited (as always)

also on AO3 - masterlist

“Get out,” Mando’s voice was sharp, making you jump out of your seat and almost drop the screwdriver you were holding in your hand, teeth grinding down onto the flashlight pointed at the open panel.

“What?” you turned your head, quickly shutting off the flashlight to look up at the Mandalorian standing in the doorway of the cockpit, his armor dusted. There was a rigidity to his posture, something you’d grown to recognise as annoyance throughout all the time you’d been with him.

You knew he could be dangerous - you’d seen it, hunt after hunt, when he brought the fugitives back to the ship, put them in carbonite or knocked them out if they tried to talk their way out of it. You’d seen it in the fights he kept you away from, or tried to.

But you’d seen the gentleness, too. The appreciative nods as he was offered food he had to decline; the tilt of his head when someone spoke to him, making it clear he was listening; the soft hands clad in leather gloves as he handled gifts received in thanks when the prize didn’t seem enough to the people he’d helped.

Most of all, with you. He had been the first person to show you kindness after so many years, a quiet compassion that had convinced you to stay on the ship when he’d asked. Never did anything that would make you feel uncomfortable, never even raised his voice around you.

At times, when he lost his temper after a bounty went astray, he’d lock himself away so that you wouldn’t have to see that side of him. And it was eating him alive.

“Out,” Mando repeated, a sharp inhale filtered through his modulator. “Did something happen?” his hands twitched at his sides, head turned to the side as his shoulder shook lightly with tension. “Mando -”

“Just get out,” he snapped, and for just a moment you were taken aback, the outburst so unfamiliar directed towards you - then, you tipped your chin up. “No,” you said simply, voice controlled but low.

“What?” his head snapped towards you, resolve faltering for a moment, and you could almost hear the grind of his teeth.

“You always do this - when things don’t go the way you want them to you lock yourself away,” you spoke calmly, taking a tentative step forward. In return, he took one back. “I’m not leaving you to deal with it on your own - it’s crushing you.”

“I’m fine, you can go,” he bit out, attempting to keep his voice down. “I’m not going anywhere,” another step forward. This time, he didn’t bulk, chest heaving as he tilted his helmet to look at you. “Let me help you, Mando.”

“It’s a stupid bounty, just -” his breath was labored, voice hoarse. “Forget about it.”

“How can I help you?” voice gentle, you reached out for him, hand wrapping around his wrist - you pushed your thumb into his pulse point, his heart jumping under your touch.

“Please,” he’d lowered his voice, helmet bowed suggesting he wasn’t looking at you directly. “I just need to wind down, just -” he took a shuddering breath in, the modulator sharpening it further.

“Okay,” you hummed, stepping closer yet, fingers brushing down the back of his hand, the leather warm underneath your skin. “How? Tell me,” he scoffed, tipping his head back.

“Ah, mesh’la,” you frowned lightly at the unfamiliar word. You wished you could see his face as he inhaled deeply, turning his hand around to wrap it around yours. Was he smiling? Was there conflict? “Close your eyes,” voice lowered, he reached his free hand to your pocket, taking the handkerchief you had tucked in it.

“What?” you almost stammered, the sudden shift in his voice making you tilt your head.

There was something… alluring in his tone. Something you hadn’t heard before, that made your heart jump to your throat. Something welcomed.

“Close your eyes,” he repeated, letting go of your hand, “and keep them closed.”

You looked at him for a moment, his helmet so close you could see your reflection in the T of his visor before you let your eyes flutter shut, obliging. You heard the rustle of his gloves, leather creaking softly as he tugged them off.

“Mando?” you called with a little frown, then jolted back when you felt the fabric of the handkerchief brush your face. His hand came up behind your head, keeping you in place, warm fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck.

“You can stop me anytime,” he spoke slowly and softly, thumb rubbing small circles over the skin of your neck. “Just say the word and I’ll stop,” there was a slight tremble in his voice, quick puffs that fanned underneath the helmet.

“You won’t hurt me, Mando,” you whispered, and the breath hitched in his throat, hand shaking behind your head as you tilted your chin up. “Go ahead.”

The blindfold was soft over your eyes, cold, and Mando’s touch was oddly delicate tying it. When he stepped back there was a low hiss of released pressure, a shuffle, the noise of metal against metal. Without your sight available, you found yourself tilting your head towards the sounds, brows knitted in curiosity.

Then his hands were back on the side of your face, holding you as he leaned in - in the split second before his mouth came down against yours, you felt his sharp inhale, the heat from his skin before he crashed on you.

It was hungry, desperate, the tension of his body pouring directly into the kiss. You yelped into his mouth as he pushed you back, back, hands grasping blindly at his bent arms to balance yourself until your back hit the wall of the cockpit, as cold and firm as the beskar around Mando.

He let go of your face, hands roaming down your body, his touch scorching - he grabbed your hips, holding you against him as he bit your already bruised lip. You felt yourself rising onto your tiptoes, arms lifted to wrap around his shoulders and bring him closer, one hand reaching behind his head - underneath your palm, his hair was curled and soft, and you buried your hand in it.

Mando pulled back enough to let a quiet groan abandon his lips before he latched onto your neck, nudging your chin up to expose your throat furthermore to him. You licked your lips, and when he bit down onto your skin, a keen flew out of your mouth, hand raking through his curls.

“Wait,” you breathed out, and he all but tore himself away from you, his hands remaining on your sides only to hold you steady as you staggered a little. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” his voice was hoarse, out of breath. “Did I hurt you? Was it too much?” you quickly moved both your hands at the side of his head.

“Mando,” you called softly, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “It’s not that, breathe.” “What’s wrong, then? Are you okay?” you felt him try to slip back, and tightened your hold.

“I’m fine, it’s just -” you cleared your throat. “The armor.” “What about it?” little by little, his breath slowed down.

“It’s pushing on me,” you admitted softly, and dropped one of your hands to your shoulder, lowering the shirt a little to reveal the mark left by the beskar on your skin. “It’s cold,” you added with a whisper and a quick smile.

“Oh,” he mumbled - then you felt him lean in, his hair tingling your jaw as his hot breath fanned across your skin. After a moment, his lips pressed onto the mark, warm and soft. “Better?” he asked, the rumble of his voice raising goosebumps across your spine. “Better,” you nodded breathlessly, the word turning into a gasp as he kissed your skin again, hands leaving you long enough for you to hear the beskar hit the ground.

His leg pushed between your knees, nudging them apart as he left a trail of kisses and bites across your chest, up to your throat, jaw, fingers digging in your hips again and moving you until your core was pressed against the beskar on his thigh. Your arms flew around his shoulders for stability, a surprised moan muffled by his lips as he jostled your hips, rocking you back and forth slowly, making you grind down on him.

Had your eyes been open, they would’ve rolled to the back of your head, the sudden feeling so overwhelming it made the space spin - if not for Mando’s hands on you, yours on him, you couldn’t have been sure about the firm floor of the ship underneath you.

Each of your whimpers got a new reaction out of him - a quicker pace of your rocking hips; his leg riding up a little more, forcing you onto your tiptoes and to hang on his shoulders; a moan when your own leg brushed his crotch, muffled by his mouth hungrily busying itself on the skin of your neck - would there be marks, you wondered?

When you started trembling slightly under his touch, Mando slowed down, moving his head back from you - you could feel his gaze on your face, could imagine him grinning as your head fell back, lips parted and breath quickened. That had been all it had taken for you to melt for him, mouth dry and skin flushed as you felt it build up in the pit of your stomach.

“Mesh’la,” he tutted, moving one hand so that it reached underneath your shirt, palm splayed over the skin of your abdomen. You cried out softly, attempting to move against him once more, the pressure at the apex of your core almost unbearable. Mando forced you back, firm against the wall behind you. “Nuh-uh, you wait.” “Mando,” you protested as he leaned in, shushing you while his hands both moved to the tie of your trousers, fingers skimming the bare skin of your stomach.

“I want to feel you come undone around me, cyar’ika,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear before he nibbled on your lobe almost tenderly, such a strong contrast with the heavy sough leaving your parted lips. He undid the tie of your trousers, dipping his fingers just slightly underneath the hem of it. “Can stop me anytime,” he repeated the same words from before.

You buried your hand through his hair, tugging on the locks a little, lips curling. “Don’t stop,” you uttered, arching from the wall and towards him. “Please, Mando,” you reached down with your other hand, blindly running your fingertips across his chest, lingering at the creases on his shirt until you skimmed over the waistband of his trousers, turning your wrist to palm him, making him hiss. “Please.”

He pushed your trousers down as he connected your lips again, desperately, cutting your breath off as one of his hands reached for the inside of your thighs as you kicked the clothing off hastily, working on his buttons.

Mando groaned, stilling for a moment when you stroked him without even pushing his clothes all the way off, hand wrapping around his hard length, hips rolling in an instinctive thrust. All but ripping the underwear from you, he took one hand off your body to push his own clothes down.

“If at any moment you don’t -” his words were cut off by a moan, hips stuttering in response to your jerk, the twist of your wrist as you arched to meet him. “Stop stalling, Mando,” you rasped, leaning in and managing to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Just take what you need.”

He picked you up urgently, both hands digging in your thighs as he guided your legs around him, pushing you flush against the wall and dropping one hand to reach for himself. You held onto his shoulders, leaving a trail of messy kisses across his face, his jaw, head tilted to fall in the crook of his neck as he pumped himself once, twice.

“It’s Din,” he murmured, thumb rubbing small circles on your inner thigh. “I want to hear you say my name,” he dragged the tip of his cock across your folds, drawing a loud gasp as he coated his length in your slick before aligning himself, pushing in just a little.

You threw your head back, mouth hanging open to draw in long breaths, the stretch both painful and blissful. He eased himself inside of you, slowly, inch by burning inch.

“Say it,” he repeated through erratic breaths, one hand on your hip to push you down on him, the other reaching up, thumb stroking your throat, ghosting your parted lips. “My name - say my name.” “Din,” breathlessly, you gripped his shoulders, rolling your hips slowly as you cried his name, familiar and unfamiliar on your tongue at the same time. “Oh, fuck - Din, please.”

“Please, what?” his mouth came down on your throat, a nip to your skin that made you keen while you tried to shift on him again, only his hand held you firmly - for someone who’d said he needed to wind down, he was showing an extreme amount of self-control, simply relishing in feeling and seeing you squirm.

The only indication that his name on your lips had any effect on him was the twitch of his length deep inside of you, the roughness of his voice as it caressed your skin, followed by his tongue, lingering on your pulse point.

And you didn’t have it in you to wait, the pressure in the pit of your stomach so deliciously warm it rose across your chest.

“Please, move,” a faint begging, digging your fingers into his shoulders - were you leaving markings of your own on him? You hoped so. You wanted to, sear yourself on him just like it felt he was doing with you.

“Like that, mesh’la?” his breath was hard, ragged, a slight tremble in his body as he pushed flush against you again, head turned to kiss your jaw instead. “Yes,” his hand not holding you was still roaming across your side, your chest, down the thin gap between your bodies as you breathed in and out. He shifted his hips, sliding half-way out of you before thrusting back in, groaning through the movement. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

It became a chant, as he picked up a relentless pace, each push seemingly stronger, harsher - don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop as the pain turned into a kind of pleasure so blinding you started to believe there was no need for a blindfold anymore.

He captured your moans with his own lips - messy, open mouthed, breathy kisses, pants cutting through as either of you moved away to catch a breath. His hand on your hip still helping you against him, each movement easier than the one before, each noise so lewd it made you burn from within.

When he started rubbing small, quick circles with his thumb over your clit, you felt yourself tip over the edge, a long whine muffled against his neck as you locked your shaky legs tightly around him, stomach fluttering through your climax.

“That’s it, ad’ika,” Din didn’t stop thrusting into you, though the movements became slower, stuttering as you clenched around him. “Think you can handle a little longer, mesh’la? Just a little longer?”

You hummed, nodding slowly as you buried one hand in his hair, guiding him back to your mouth. This kiss was slower, in tandem with his shallow pushes, less desperate, less famished. He reached up to cup your cheek, a tender touch that felt ironic with the tingling of his thrust still against your hipbone, inside you.

He stilled, a choked back cry as he came, hips jerking one last time involuntarily as he twitched inside you, leaving one last kiss - almost chaste - on your lips.

He leaned against you, hands resting on your sides and kneading the exposed flesh of your stomach, small circles as if to soothe your already aching muscles as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders tiredly, leaning your head back and gently scratching his scalp.

“I promise I’ll bring you to bed next time,” he murmured, heavy breaths falling from his parted lips and dancing across your skin. He left a quick peck against your collarbone as you chuckled wearily, arms and legs heavy around him. “Next time?” you tilted your head, cheek resting against his temple. “Maker, Mando - won’t you buy a lady dinner first?” you teased, a lazy smile blossoming on your face.

He laughed, the rumble of it moving up your body and making you bite down on your lip.

“I will,” he nodded, setting his hands under your legs to support you. “Promise I will,” he shifted out of you, a slow, controlled movement that had you suffocate a cry. “As long as you keep calling me Din.” “I will, Din,” you responded, voice a mere whisper as you attempted to squeeze your thighs, the warmth of both your releases sticking to your skin. “I will.”

You felt him shift back, leaving you a little room while still keeping you up.

“I’m gonna take this off now,” he reached behind your head, gently starting to undo the knot of the blindfold. “Can you keep your eyes closed?” “Of course,” you gave a delicate smile, nodding briefly. “Just don’t drop me, I don’t think I can stand right now.”

He chuckled, pulling the blindfold fully off. He shifted forward, prying your thighs open again, running the cloth across your skin gently to clean you, stopping before reaching your still sensitive center.

“If you hold onto me I’ll bring you to get cleaned up,” all the tension in his voice had vanished, replaced by only gentleness - it felt strange, hearing it without the croaking of the modulator. “You don’t have to, I was joking,” you scoffed, easing the hold of your legs around him.

In return, he moved closer again, helping you up against him.

“I know, cyar’ika,” he hummed, lips brushing your jaw so sweetly it had you melt right into his arms. “But you took care of me - now let me help you.”

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princelythirsts · 9 months

Text

How to Get Selfship Merch and Art with Low or NO Budget

*Okay, kinda misleading title as many of these are DIY but they can be cheap or free depending what materials you have access to. These are just some basic ideas I hope will inspire people to try their own things.

Feel free to add any ideas you have, too!

Things you can get/make for free

Picrew / Dressup games

I’ve seen some couple/romance picrews before!

I don’t always find the options I want in Picrews (ie body type) but you can always edit them using free software like Autodesk sketchbook, gimp, etc

Wallpapers

If your f/o is popular, you might be able to find some good phone/desktop wallpapers by searching online

Edits

There’s free apps for editing selfies where you can put in a photo and add in filters, stickers, etc. (Not my area of expertise, also may not work as well with animated f/o’s)

Free apps for video editing - I see a lot of edits on Youtube and Tiktok for example

Making silly edits where you put your ship into existing memes

Free art?! - Artists doing art requests / free art for experimental purposes

(Search for “art requests: open”, only ask if people offer first)

Free art?! - You can draw whatever you want, whenever you want

Apologies if that sounds condescending, but that’s often the thought that motivates me to draw selfship art when I do. No one can stop me from drawing myself kissing my f/o!

If this is daunting, try breaking it down into smaller steps. Search for tutorials on how to draw your f/o, or how to draw romantic scenes, etc.

Misc arts & crafts!

Whatever you have on hand you could make - especially in your f/o’s colors! Or things you associate with your ship

Sometimes schools and libraries have free events where they let people make things free of charge - check out your local library’s site! They’re always open for feedback, you can email suggestions for events.

I’ve seen events where they let you paint, make friendship bracelets, make buttons with their button machine, etc

For example my uni had a “destress from finals” event where you could make bracelets with plastic beads (like kandi?), and I made one with my friend’s f/o’s name and color scheme.

Things you can get/make for cheap

Keychains! Get one of those keychains where you can put a photo in, print out or draw a pic of your beloved, and put that bad boy in there

A lil character shrine! It doesn’t have to be huge

A good place to start could be a photo of the character and little trinkets you associate with them. Like an eraser shaped like their favorite animal or a candle in a scent that reminds you of them.

#thirsty ramblings #proship selfship #selfship community #selfship memes #selfship prompt

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thepolysworldau · 2 months

Text

MASTER POST

Rules

This is a POLYSWORLD blog. I tag posts with specific dynamics with the ship name to help people with content filtering. However, the plan is for the main 4 to be in a polycule.

At this time I, the owner of the blog, am 17! That said, if you want to make nsfw content for it I won't stop you! Just please do not share it with me or tag the blog in it!!

Asks that change characters personalities/designs/gives them something that would ruin a plot line I have planned will be deleted.

Asks that imply a crossover/roleplay your ocs with the blog will be deleted, no exceptions.

If an ask has yet to be answered, it doesn't always mean it has been deleted! Sometimes asks are saved for later due to art needing to be draw for them! Do not be afraid to send in a lot of asks!!

Asks that give characters things are on very thin ice, I went with it for Tom eating shit but holy cow I have been getting a lot of those and a character saying "thank you" over and over again is gonna get stale.

PLEASE tell me who you are asking in your ask! If it is for everyone then say so. Just asking a random question does not let me know who it is directed to!

If you want to make fanart of the blog either submit it through submissions here OR post it and tag the blog! You can send it through asks if you want a character to react to it, but there have been a few cases I wasn't able to make it fit well.

THE CHARACTERS RESPONSES ARE NOT WHAT I BELIEVE! Tord is, if you can't tell, a bit of a dick. Don't take their responses to heart, and know that more often than not it isn't what I think verbatim.

PLEASE do not infantalize the characters. A lot of them are written to be neurodivergent (as I myself am) and while I will make posts/jokes I do not want to belittle them due to their traits!

If I get asks that are asking something I have ALREADY answered, I will probably delete it! Granted I may forget/it may change with plot development. Loose rule.

Asks that flat out tell chatacters things that they shouldn't know/that messes with the plot will be deleted!

I have had a few posts with characters uncomfortable with stuff being said about them, and they can be! I will start answering asks more so about the ship as an observation of the blog just with myself instead of making the characters react grossly. I don't want to make people feel weird for enjoying the blog, just was too in chatacter with some reactions lol.

If you need to contact me, my main blog is @emotionallyattachedmatch ! Though, it is a lot easier to reach me through discord under the same handle!

Dni

if you are proship/zoo/dramablog/zionist/generally a dick. I want to have fun here, and I won't hesitate to block if someone soils it.

Discord

#mod talks #serious

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caught-on-tape-fest · 8 months

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#carry on #carry on podfic #caught on tape fest 2023 #carry on podfest

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miss-celestia13 · 6 months

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Hold Me Down

Jake x MC One Shot - Smut

Demons come knocking, and Jake almost lets them in, but Manon is there to coax him into the light, and remind him of what is real. You know by now that these can be read with no prior knowledge of my work. Plotless smut with feelings.

It’s another dual POV between Jake and Manon. Their names are bolded when it changes.

This will be the last one for a few weeks. At least. I have to return to Westeros and my dragons for a while now. I won’t be gone from Manon and Jake for very long. Manon doesn’t let me live in peace, she’s always yelling at me🤭❤️

“Jake! Wake up, it’s not real! Please!”

Jake heard her fierce and unyielding yelling as he glanced around his tiny dark prison for a crack of light or something that would tell him how to get out. Nothing jumped out at him, all he saw was black metal walls, a slow drip of water somewhere to his right, and his fear, a physical manifestation in the form of fanged shadows waited patiently behind him to take him down, down, down, where he belonged. She was out there, and he could do nothing, strapped and bound to a metal chair, blood rolling down his filthy face from the wound in his temple. The sleekit voices of his captors filtered through the dank air he could barely breathe in. His legs jumped and quaked, a sensation of something pressing down on his chest cut off his air, and his whole body shook again, harder this time. Rocking in time with the motion, Jake’s stomach roiled, and the buttery, iron-rich tang of blood at the back of his throat made his stomach fill with bile.

Manon’s curt tone cut through his panicking, fighting against his bonds. He snarled, biting down on his cheek too hard and spitting a mouthful of blood on the wet floor, and it bled like a bitch as he struggled to get free. Her sardonic laugh lifted the hair on the back of his neck, going very still as her measured steps came to a stop outside his cage, and she taunted the men holding him captive. Half in the nightmare, back inside that shipping container, beaten and broken, while Manon was outside, surrounded by his enemies, utterly alone. And his heart fucking sprinted in his chest as her smart-ass mouth opened, and she gifted her soon-to-be killers with a witches curse.

“Ah, I see. Thanks for the lesson, boys. I hope you get exactly what you deserve.”

No. He couldn’t take it. He started screaming. Voice tearing from him like an unearthly howl, and he thrashed violently, knocking himself and the chair over, landing with a grunting thud in a puddle of freezing, stinking, standing water. His scream echoed off the metal walls, bouncing back at him and mocking him as he lay there like discarded rubbish. Manon’s taunting laugh cut off, her silence more terrifying than anything he’d lived through.

It was wrong. His world was her, her voice the only thing he ever wanted to hear, her fierce refusal to let anything break her couldn’t be snuffed out so easily, and a world without her wasn’t one he could endure. He was nothing if not stubborn, and he couldn’t succumb to despair now. He compelled his breathing to calm, feeling the rope binding his hands, slick with his blood as his wrists burned and rubbed raw, rope biting into his torn skin. A light appeared on the horizon, a mere pinprick, but he focused on it.

It was like swimming through molasses; the hands of darkness gripped him tight, slowing his escape, and he feared they’d drag him down forever if he let them. A gunshot cracked through the shadows, Manon’s cry of pain so real his head emptied, and everything inside him went cold, ice water replacing his blood as his mind flickered between reality and nightmares. A muffled thud and someone slapping his face, anger ignited so fast the shadows had no chance as it lit him up and he raced for the shimmering surface that would take him out of this horrid place. As a dark bedroom appeared in his vision, he swam for it and didn’t stop, didn’t allow the demons running around beneath his feet a chance to drag him back down.

Manon angrily swiped tears of powerlessness away as Jake spasmed and groaned, an edge to the fear now, her stomach a mess of acid and anxiety as his eyelids shivered and his mouth flattened, lips going white. He went still, muscles trembling as he strained. His breathing stopped, hers hitched, and hopelessness washed over her as she leaned in close, trying a more gentle route as shaking and slapping him wasn’t working. She brushed her lips over his, pressing in hard when his mouth parted, and he sucked in a breath. A relieved noise, a cross between a whine and a chuckle, slipped from her as she tried it again and tentatively pried his lips apart.

Suddenly, he grabbed her and reared up. She was flat on her back, hands pinned above her head as his wild eyes stared through her, and she panted heavily as his weight bore her into the mattress. The dream still held him prisoner, his grip on her wrists tightening so much she winced as her bones groaned and bitched their complaints. Her heart rattled violently in her chest as no recognition shone in those magnificent eyes. Just horror and desperation, she didn’t struggle and lay unmoving as sleep cleared from his gaze and the whites of his eyes glinted brightly.

She said, keeping her voice soft and slow, “Jake, it’s me, love. You’re safe.

The painful hold he had on her wrists slackened, recognition finally flared in his gaze, and he shuddered so ferociously her entire body shook with it. He released her, slumping back on his haunches as she eyed him, and her fingers tingled to touch him, but he scrubbed roughly at his face with a hand, silver sheened his royal blue gaze as he dropped it and he picked at his nails, wouldn’t meet her eye as his ragged voice threatened to break her heart.

“I’m so sorry, Manon. I am so sorry… did I hurt you?” he breathed, voice weak and pitiful, face drained of all color as she forced herself to smile reassuringly.

“Enough of that. I’m fine. Do you want to talk about it?”

Remorse limned every line of his body, eyes so hollow she wanted to sob as they locked on her, and the desolation in them near floored her as he shook his head and rolled off her. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, shoulders curling in as he dropped his head in his hands and heaved a sigh so full of sorrow she wished she had someone to fight to make it go away. Scrambling to sit up, she did the only thing she could think to do. Plastering herself to his back, she slid her hands over his tense shoulders to settle on his chilled chest and gave him the heat of her body. Sluggish and gentle, she caressed him, touching any skin she could reach and holding her breath as he shook and leaned into it.

His voice cracked, a lump in her throat as she listened, “No, I can’t talk about it, Manon. It’ll make it real, and I can’t – I can’t -” She thought his neck would break as he shook his head, breath bursting in and out of him, and she felt everything as if it were happening to her.

“Shh, love, okay. We won’t talk about it.” Her fingers tapped his skin, her chin on his shoulder as she hunted for something to comfort him. He looked like a ghost, and it frightened her. He was so close to locking away the last of his demons, and they were fighting back in a Hail Mary attempt to keep him trapped with them. She knew it well, had gone through it for years, and he had witnessed it more than once. Coming to a decision, she pressed a kiss into his bristled jaw and hurried off the bed, retrieving her old silk robe off the floor and slipping it on as she padded to the door. His voice stopped her, hand on the doorknob as she turned back to him, the war in his eyes driving a barbed blade into her heart.

“Where are you going?”

Her heart clenched, voice tight as she replied, “I’m going to get you something warm to drink, and then we’ll watch stupid movies in bed until the sun comes up.”

He was partial to old nineties action movies with terrible acting and cringeworthy dialogue. She would happily watch nothing else for the rest of their lives if it made the hollowness in his expression go away. She saw the words in his eyes from where she stood; he didn’t want to be alone.

“You can come with me, and we’ll camp in the living room?” She offered, smiling gently as he immediately nodded and clumsily rose to his feet.

She watched as he hunted for his boxers, shoving them on as she turned away. Now wasn’t the time to admire him. He didn’t bother grabbing a shirt as he ran a hand through his wild hair. She moved to open the door as he approached, but she was seized, hauled into him, and held so tightly she worried she would shatter as his hands roamed over her, and she had the curious notion he was searching for a wound or injury. His fear hadn’t been for him. She knew it for certain now. Clinging to him, she let him feel and closed her eyes against the searing emotion demanding an outlet as he loosed a relieved sound and three airy words were spoken into her hair.

“I love you.”

“I’m safe. It wasn’t real. I love you, too. I always will,” she replied, her voice laden with melancholia. She listened to his erratic heart beating wildly under her ear as he held her.

She studied his face when he loosened his hold; the shadows clinging to the edges of his sapphire eyes flashed and danced. She hated it. He didn’t deserve to suffer losing everything he loved over and over again, whether in dreams or real life. He’d lost enough, and she wanted to conquer the darkness in him as she took his hand to lead him downstairs. He followed like a puppy, limbs heavy and thumping as they hurried downstairs. She reached the kitchen doorway, eyes locked on the coffee machine and the heavenly nectar it could give them, but he called her name.

“Manon?”

She turned, her brows rising in silent question, and waited as he swallowed hard. His jaw could cut glass as he said, “I need you to sit with me for a while. It’s all going round in my head, and I can’t stand it.”

Her hummingbird heart lost its wings as she nodded, hurting for him as she followed him into the living room. He didn’t let her go as he lay down on his side on the massive sofa, leaving room for her as he pulled her down. She went to put her back to him, expecting his usual spooning so he could feel all of her, but he shook his head and urged her to face him, staring right into the soul of her as she settled down. They were tangled together, legs and arms like bindings around each other, skin and silk sticking as his hands smoothed over her back.

How long they lay like that, nothing but the wind and trees shivering outside to witness as Jake pieced himself back together and needed her warmth to do it; she didn’t bother to check as he stared into her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat. The silence grew too loud, and she had to fill it, take his mind off whatever he saw, and vanquish the cloak of despair hanging over him.

“When I was a little girl, I used to have these dreams. They weren’t terrifying, but they were for me. I would come home from school, and Dad greeted me like normal, setting dinner on the table as I did my homework. But a woman was there. I didn’t really know her, but I knew her from photos. My mother.” She whispered, unsure why she was telling him about an old nightmare when he was still living one, but he was intently focused on her, his breathing slowing as he did.

She kept going, anything to stop him from thinking he’d lost her, “She would sit beside me, and Dad acted completely normal like this was an everyday thing. But even in my dreams, I knew it was wrong. I knew she was dead and shouldn’t be there. I questioned her, demanding to know who she really was while Dad tried to pretend all was well. My mother never blinked or answered, and I remember getting so angry I’d wake up crying. Confused and terrified because no one would acknowledge she wasn’t supposed to be there. When I eventually told my dad about them, he looked so heartbroken I regretted ever mentioning it. They stopped as I grew up, and it wasn’t until I lost my dad that I understood them.” She paused, mind whirring as she willingly went back to those horrific first weeks after her dad’s death.

“I don’t need to know if you can’t speak it, Sweetheart,” he muttered, eyes softening a shade, and she smiled softly, shaking her head as she got the rest of it out of her.

“They say spirits haunt the places they lived because of unfinished business. I don’t know if you believe in that, but I do, and my dreams weren’t my mom visiting me because she never knew me. It was my own guilt. I felt guilty that I never knew her and that I was here, but she wasn’t. I saw my dad’s grief every day and how he never loved again. He only had me. And then I lost him, and he haunted my dreams. You know how that goes, but my mom… I was always told I was so much like her. It was a guilt I didn’t know I carried. I don’t know what you saw, but I know it was about me. If you’re feeling remorseful about staying with me or something equally foolish, stop it. You deserve to be happy, Jake. To be free to live how you want and do what you want. I don’t give a fuck what you do to get there. As long as I’m by your side when you do it, I don’t care. I knew what I was signing up for when we got together. Nothing will take me from you now. I think I’ve proved that.” She winked, watching as his eyes dilated and dipped to her mouth.

He didn’t speak for so long that she worried he’d gone into some form of stasis, but he blinked, licked his lips, and said, “If you got hurt because of me -“

“No. We’re not doing this again. If I get hurt, it will be because of my actions- not yours. Don’t make me thump you,” she snapped, forcing a smirk at the end to soften her words as his mouth tried to curl at the corners.

His hands slid up her back, knee between her thighs pushing hers apart as he tugged her against him and sighed, “I’m sorry. I look at you, and you’re everything, everything to me. The thought of losing you or you being hurt to get to me… Manon, I’d rather be beaten bloody daily than imagine that. You’ve bled enough. I can’t stand the thought of you giving more for me.”

Now she was angry, eyes narrowing and voice hardening as she dug her hand in his hair and pulled it hard enough he hissed, “I’ll give whatever I want for you. It’s my choice. But it won’t happen. They’re locked away, awaiting trial, and they can’t get to us anymore. It’s almost over. In a few more weeks, you’ll be free forever. Don’t worry about tomorrow when you have enough to handle now.”

The fingers on her hip cut in, his thigh rubbing between her legs, and she bit back a shiver as his eyes turned dark, and he murmured, “No matter what I say, you have an answer… I’ve been free since the day you dropped into my life, Sweetheart.”

The nickname made her blood race. She ignored it the first time as the hopeless look on his face froze it before it could take root. The life had returned to his singular eyes, bright and electric as they latched on to hers, red smoke hazing the vibrant blue. Still, she tried not to let it show, ignoring the ever-smoldering embers low in her belly as she spoke.

“If that’s true, stop beating yourself up for things we settled months ago.”

His half smile widened to a wicked grin, gaze trained on her mouth, and she had the sudden urge to plead for mercy as he rolled them, settling on top of her. Mouth an inch from hers, her nose invaded by his alluring scent, and her hands already shaking as they clung to his neck.

“You are a bossy little thing. Cheeky. Always right. And I love you for it.” He chuckled, brushing his lips over hers as she held herself still.

“Good. Prove it,” she challenged. The fire was instantly back in his eyes; it lit the flames of her desire as he licked at the seam of her lips, and she opened to let him in, sighing into his mouth as his tongue played lazily with hers. The weight of his body, the scalding heat pouring from him, and his insistent mouth played her expertly as she went pliant under him. As always, she lost herself in his kiss. Sublime heat and delicious, maddening tension built so fast she couldn’t breathe, but this wasn’t about her. She couldn’t be selfish and had to ensure he knew she was safe and loved him. Working her hand between them, slipping inside his boxers, she wrapped it around his rapidly hardening cock. She smiled into the kiss as he groaned, hips jerking into her hand.

Sex had been the last thing on her mind when they came downstairs. Still, he clearly needed to feel something other than fright. She was willing to give him her body if it would banish those sadistic shadows still lurking in his lovely eyes. She stroked him the way he liked, loose then firm, twisting her wrist as she reached the head of him and swiping her thumb over the drop of moisture already waiting for her at the tip. He came back to life under her influence, mouth crushing hers, and he tasted like home as she enjoyed the heavy, silken feel of his cock in her palm. She was happy to get him off in her hand, ignoring the desire slowly burning in her core if it would help him find real rest and relief. But Jake was never happy unless she was a writhing mess as well.

His kiss turned voracious, her every nerve electrified as his hand slid along her thigh, hooking around her knee to yank it up to his waist. Fingers slipped and skidded over her hip, around her back, and down the curve of her ass, blunt nails cutting into her skin. He taunted her folds with phantom touches, delving between the cleft of her ass to dabble in the wetness gathering amongst her folds and spreading it around, smirking against her mouth as she shivered and sighed. Her hand stilled, position too awkward to stroke his cock as he gradually rolled them, her on top as he grabbed handfuls of her ass and silently urged her to spread her thighs wider. She slid her arms out of her robe and tossed it to the floor before it could get in the way and focused back on him.

She wanted to look after him, erase the nightmare with her touch, and care for him like he did for her. Still, it was almost impossible to withdraw from his sinful mouth and talented fingers, tracing the shape of her and making more mess between her legs as she murmured and purred. Sparks, bright and fiery, shot through her veins as he scraped his nails over her ass and jerked his hips, hard cock trapped between them and slipping through her slick folds in an unbearable tease. As he menaced her tongue with his, she managed to steal back some control, breaking the seal over her mouth and backing away when he chased her lips, smirking as he narrowed his eyes at her.

Dragging her nails down his heaving chest, she cocked her head and said, “You’re always looking after me. Let me take care of you now.”

Jake fought the desire to snatch hold of her and have her twisted under him, breathless and sobbing, utterly out of control as he fucked her. But he saw the need to comfort him in her vivid gaze, a softness she rarely showed, and he found himself nodding as she leaned back in to kiss him so tenderly his throat suddenly went dry. She started slow, kissing him until he was painfully hard and gripping her hips to keep from burying his cock inside her wet heat, slick against his lower abdomen as she mouthed at his jaw. Laying a path of sucking bites, she worked down his neck, sharp teeth nipping his pounding pulse before dragging her lips over his chest and down his torso, stomach tensing and relaxing as she followed the trail of dark hair to his rigid cock.

Settled between his legs, his heart kicked up as her little warm hand wrapped around his cock and stroked. Her long hair tickled his thighs as she lowered her head and licked a stripe up the solid length of him with the flat of her tongue. He groaned, rough and ragged, as she did it again, her lips parted as she met his eye and took the crown of his cock into her hot mouth, watching his reactions as he curled his hands into the blankets on the couch. Her hand and lips worked together, cock engulfed in wet heat as she hollowed her cheeks to suck him down, and her hand slid up to meet her mouth. Her other hand pinned his hip as she worked. She hummed as he hit the back of her throat, his heart stalling and restarting so fast he near blacked out as she relaxed to take more of him, and a feral sound tore free of his chest as she swallowed around him.

Her other hand moved from his hip, cupping and holding his stones close as he sobbed. She played with his restraint as she sucked his cock into her clever mouth, his instinct to own her body almost impossible to control as she reveled in holding all the power. Heat and electricity twined down his spine, fizzing and burning as he trembled under her care and ran his fingers through her loose hair, moaning as her throat constricted and relaxed around his length. She made little noises of pleasure as she worked, driving him insane as she delighted in undoing him, and he didn’t have to look to know she was touching herself; her quivering form told him she was. The thought stole a growl from his chest, long deep drags of her taut lips along his cock and swirling tongue making his body bow as she moaned around him.

“Manon, I need to feel you.” He gritted out as she took him so deep in her throat his eyes crossed, and his vision went dark for a second. She released him with a vulgar popping sound and arched a brow.

“You already are,” she taunted, fluttering her tongue against his glistening cock as her other hand moved languorously between her thighs.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, green irises almost swallowed by black as she teased him and herself. She was the most beautiful when like this, he thought. Unburdened, pleasure the only goal and love the only ending, he let out a helpless cry as she almost took him into her mouth whole and sucked. Gently teasing teeth, hand, and mouth, moving in tandem to make him sputter and buck his hips into her face, earning a pleased muted moan from her. Frantic and panting, he could do nothing as she held his gaze, eyes watering and breath harsh as she worked him and herself over, her body undulating in time with her next slippery slide down on his cock. He couldn’t take it; he needed to be the one to get her off first.

Manon’s busy fingers circled her clit as she hollowed her cheeks and tightened her lips around his cock, swallowing him down as he squirmed under her attention. She was so wet, turned on to dangerous levels as her empty cunt complained and clenched, and intolerable ache in her core as her skin pebbled, breath sawing from her as she chased her orgasm. His lovely cock jumped in her mouth, tongue tapping and licking as she loosed her lips to breathe, a strangled moan trapped in her throat. She managed a few more swipes, release hovering so close her body tensed in preparation, and sucked him back in her mouth, hoping she could take him with her.

The thrumming tension in him told her he was very close to the edge, her smile full of smug pride as he squirmed and sobbed. It wasn’t to last. He yanked her off him in a movement so fast and effortless she squealed in utter bewilderment. She couldn’t track his movements, only knew he made them as she threw her head back and yelled out in pain and pleasure as she was brought down hard on his cock. The world span and blurred as her body absorbed the sudden invasion, voice silenced by the overpowering sensation of being filled completely, and a chill like a many-legged insect skittered down her spine. Trapped and impaled by his powerful hands framing her hips, her fingers twitching and toes curling. The shock of it making her eyes bug, unseeing as she gaped at Jake, and her toes curled. His feral grin and eyes of blackest ardour watched her struggle, wholly entranced by her, and the hunger in them bottomless. She fell forward as if hit in the head, short huffs of air leaving her as she whined and tried to breathe through the feeling of her cunt being abruptly stretched.

“Your face when I fuck you, I’ve needed to see it since I woke.” He muttered, holding himself still to let her adjust despite the restraint she could see falling apart with every second she pulsed around his cock.

“This was supposed to be about you,” she managed, bending to nip at his lips with a snap of teeth, nails scratching at his solid chest, and crying out as his hands lifted her off him in a slow, tight glide of resisting walls, bringing her back down with a grunt so deliciously dark her mouth watered.

He chuckled, “It still is. I need to see you come first, Sweetheart.”

She gave a dark laugh, skin too small for her bones, as she said, “You are cruel, evil, and - oh, fuck!”

He never gave her a chance to finish the thought, both moaning as he lifted her again and let gravity do the rest as she slithered back down. It didn’t seem to matter where they were or why they did this; he always found a way to take the reins and make her shatter. It wasn’t fair how simple it was for him, but it was everything she needed and she could see now that he needed it more. Still, she found the means to take back control, rolling her hips to stir his cock inside her, cunt slackening and softening, wetness leaking from her to ease his way, her thwarted orgasm was terribly close once more. He observed her every reaction closely, eyes darker than a midnight sky and lips puffed and wet from her kisses as she reared backward in an elegant arch.

“I love your filthy mouth,” he growled as she planted her hands on his marble chest for more leverage, and clawed at his skin, “But your pretty cunt is better.”

She trembled and preened, thrilled by his bold words as she moved, relentless, and determined to chase the release she could almost taste. It was utterly overwhelming, breathtaking and she had no voice, no words in her mind except one. More. Every time they were together, it felt like this, and she kept waiting for it to fade with time, but it only seemed to burn hotter. The more they learned of each others bodies, the better they could send each other into madness and delirium. He felt too good, utterly perfect, buried inside her. Made to fit her, she fancifully thought as he helped her move over him. She fell forward again, unable to stay away from his smirking lips, and wanted to taste it as she rode him. She darted her tongue inside to play with as she rocked and rolled her hips, drowning in him as her veins filled with lightning.

Heat and nerves sparkled over her skin, stomach tensing as she bottomed out, and he was knocked so deep it forced the breath from her as her cunt fluttered around his cock. Whining into his mouth, hand scrabbling down her body to find her clit and send herself flying as his cock jumped inside her. He was holding back for her. She saw it when she opened her eyes, and his were already open, flame devouring the violet-blue as he met her next slide down with a jab of his hips. There were so many things in his gaze, awe, relief, and sheer delight at watching her come apart at the seams for him.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered reverently as she let him breathe and redoubled her efforts. Her release sparked its warning, and her essence soaked them both.

Her sob wasn’t entirely one of pleasure as she met his eye and saw the worship in his gaze, glued on her writhing form as her cunt swallowed his cock again and again. Fingers swirling her swollen clit, soaked in her own essence, as she and Jake moved together to send her over the edge. His tense jaw and quivering hands on her hips held her captive as she erratically bounced over him. Tension so sharp it threatened to slice her in half as her fingers worked that bundle of nerves, and his cock hit that sweet spot inside her that made her keen too loudly. His eyes held no shadows as she slammed hers shut against the onslaught of sensation he was pulling from her; only a glinting pride shone in that magnificent gaze, lighting her up inside as she gave herself over to the orgasm plucking at the delicate threads of her sanity.

It broke over her in a storm of static tingles and shocks, skittering under her skin and making her muscles jump, her release a smothered sigh as he pulled her down to his lips to taste her moan, a shuddering breath into his lungs as his hands at her hips held her down with strength and he came inside her. Everything intensified by how close he held her, as if he were afraid she’d slip away in a wisp of smoke and never return. His rippling growl under her flickering heart, his cock buried so completely she felt every twitch of his release as her inner walls grasped him in a taut fluttering clasp. She was whining in his hold, body utterly weightless but leaden at the same time, bliss and fatigue settling in as he slowly softened inside her drenched cunt. When she gathered the strength to break free of his mouth, she hid her face in his neck as she mumbled nonsense into his musky skin.

His hands smoothed down and up her back, prolonging her euphoria and the aftershocks of her release, the wicked feel of him inside her still convulsing cunt driving her to distraction. It was a long time before she calmed, and he found the strength to rearrange them. Her disgruntled moan as he left her body, making him smirk at her as he settled them in a spooning position. Sticky and exhausted, she barely reacted as he pulled a blanket over them and moved her hair away from her neck to kiss her there. Neither spoke again as sleep lured them in, and the sky outside the cabin window began to lighten from coal to gunmetal. Both smiled as they fell into a dreamless sleep.

~*~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you leave a comment or reblog, thank you for that too! It makes my day ❤️

This was from chapter 3 of Paper Rings & Dirty Dreams.

If you fancy reading the stories that these two are from, you can find the links below. Bloodstain comes first and then Paper Rings. Both are indulgent, explicitly romantic and utterly packed with smut. I should’ve been stopped, to be honest, in the first one 🤭no pressure, I’m posting the smut from Paper Rings here anyway, it’s just a lot of fun and chaos reigns supreme in every chapter ❤️

Marked Me Like a Bloodstain - Ao3

Marked Me Like a Bloodstain - Wattpad

Paper Rings & Dirty Dreams - Ao3

Paper Rings & Dirty Dreams - Wattpad

Or if you just want smut, my Masterlist contains plenty more smutty one shots!

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charles-leclerc-official · 3 months

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Hi I'm Luci, your resident Charles Leclerc F1 insane Ferrari girl! I like talking non-stop about the silly men in the very fast cars 🏎️💨✨

Askbox is always open ❤️

You can find all my creations below 📝🎨📕📷

Kofi: support regular race analysis and opinion pieces on Formula 1 <3

"Tyre screeches" is my rambling tag

@/devilsferrari is my @ on twitter

About Me and My Blog

I am an adult, and use she/they pronouns, in Pacific Timezone. Please no minors, I do post suggestive and nsfw content. I will block for not respecting this boundary.

1. My favorite drivers are: Charles, Max, Fernando, Oscar, George, Lewis, Logan, and Alex. Also of course Kimi (my first love) and Seb <3 It should be evident that my ultimate loyalties lie with Charles and Ferrari(that's who I am cheering for in races)

2. Just because I like one driver it does not mean I hate another driver.

3. I don't do driver hate on my blog, any asks that are overly negative and hateful get deleted. I will block for any nasty driver hate in my tags. That does not mean I won't be critiquing drivers, but I try to be fair and analytical and not just hate for no reason. I tag any driver critique so that you can filter those tags if you don't want to see. The tag format is "DRIVER NAME critical" ex "Valtteri Bottas Critical" (neutral example)

4. I am a lestappen shipper, I know it's not real and it's just for fun. They are my favorite driver dynamic. I will also multi-ship for fun, but this is a lestappen supremacy garage.

5. Always feel free to tag me in posts, send me asks, dm about F1. I love talking about it, even if it's not about my top teams/drivers. If you want to have a Nico Hulkenberg party in my asks I am down for that.

6. If you have any questions or concerns reach out, I will keep things private.